This is one of my first short stories, I normally write poems. After reading stories on here I was inspired to write a short story about two of the characters I love most. I have one of the oldest versions of Word on my computer, so some mistakes are probably present. I hope you like it. It's not nearly done--I see this being quite a few chapters before I get to where I want to go with it. Please, I need all the reviews and critics I can get, so feel free.

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"Ron, honestly—why can't you do your homework when it's assigned? I've already finished Binns' essay ages ago."

"Hermione, it's difficult now with being in quidditch and all. You don't have to do it for me; just let me, you know, look at yours if I have questions or something."

"Oh really Ronald, I'll just do it. How far have you gotten?"

"Oh, well, you know. I've got quite a bit done, way more than half."

"You haven't started have you?"

"Well, no. But I—"

Ron continued to describe how he was going to do his essay. He had just finished adding another lavish detail to his excuse ("Well, you see, I sat down last night to do it, and then an angry pack of owls stormed through the window and tipped my ink bottle and snatched my parchment away.") when Harry walked through the common room door.

"Oh, hey Harry," said Ron, with a look of relief on his face.

"Hey Ron," Harry said distractedly. "Oh, hey Hermione," he said when an enthusiastic smile.

Ron looked from one friend to the other, confusion spreading on his face. His ears turned as red as Hermione's cheeks had. When he opened his mouth to ask a question Hermione interrupted him.

"Harry, please tell you've done the essay Binns assigned," she said impatiently.

"What? Oh, oh yeah, I—erm, I've got loads done; nearly finished," Harry said while he searched aimlessly through his bag.

"Well good for you, that makes two of us," said Hermione as she looked sternly at Ron.

Ron's cheeks turned a deeper scarlet, almost imitating the red in his Gryffindor tie, and he retreated toward the couch. After a few minutes of sitting, staring into the fire, he noticed he was alone. He looked around to find Hermione giggling and smiling at Harry, who was telling a very in-depth story. He watched them for a few moments, heat rising in his face all the while. Once or twice he thought he saw lust float across Harry's eyes, but he shook the thought from his head.

What is he doing? He doesn't like Hermione. Why is she touching his arm? She never touches my arm like that.

Hermione laughed aloud and said, "Oh, Harry you tell some of the best stories."

"Well, I do try," he said, with lust seeping back into his eyes. "Hey, shall we go down to the kitchen? You can give Dobby some more hats or something; I'm really in the mood for some pumpkin pasties."

"Sure, I'd love too," she replied. "Oh I'm sure they'll love these, I've just knitted them last night. What do you think?" she asked Harry, holding up what appeared to be yarn mittens without any holes.

Ron saw the hesitant look on Harry's face and took the opportunity to answer. "I think they're lovely, Hermione," he said. Harry shot him a reproachful look.

"Well, shall we go then?" Harry asked Hermione impatiently.

"I do suppose we ought to be going, it's almost 8:30, and I certainly don't want to be caught outside the common room after hours. Are you coming Ron?" she asked, getting up to stand next to Harry.

"What? Oh, yeah, sure. I'd love to—" said Ron.

"But he can't, can you Ron," said Harry. "You've got to finish Binns' essay. It is due tomorrow."

"I, but," stuttered Ron, obviously confused by the aggressive look on Harry's face. "Yeah, you're right mate. I . . . the essay, right."

Hermione took Harry's arm and led the way toward the door. "Well let this be a lesson to you. Would you like us to bring you anything back?"

The hunger Ron had felt a few minutes before had quickly turned to a fiery jealousy. He lied and said, "Oh, no, no I'm fine, thanks." He then stood up, turned on his heel, and proceeded up to the dormitories—he did not want to see them leave together, arm in arm.

Hermione watched him sulk up the stairs, and then turned toward the door with a trace of a tear rolling down her cheek. The tear went unnoticed by Harry.