A/N: Babysitting tonight in a Tropical storm. Going to read him Harry Potter as we watch the movies.
Words: 580.
Pairings: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.
Date Written: September 3, 2011.
[third year]
Her damn cat is always causing trouble. You glare at her as she pets the fat orange cat's fur and does her essay for Muggle Studies. Her eyes look confused, and her hair is falling in her face. She looks tired all the time, you notice, but you don't say anything since you're suppose to hate her at the moment.
Honestly, she's becoming a nightmare again.
You're only a few months into the new year, and you're already fighting. You lasted the last two weeks of the summer holiday not fighting with her as she stayed with your family at the Leaky Cauldron, but the minute she bought that ratty cat, you couldn't help but say something. He was trying to kill Scabbers!
You won't admit to anyone, let alone yourself, that you miss how she would help you with your homework. She was always the one to make you do it, and now you're barley getting anything done. You're surprised she can even get her work done because you remember when you came down to the common room towards two in the morning to grab a forgotten book and she was there, half-asleep, still doing Divination.
Though, you were quiet proud of her when she stormed out of Trelawney's class, not looking back, her back straight, her bushy hair looking more wild than ever.
But at this moment, it's midnight, and you haven't done your Potions work. You grudgingly look up to see Hermione still doing work for Muggle Studies. You wonder why she takes that class, since she grew up in a muggle home.
You decide that you need to ignore your inner pride and ask for help.
"Her-my-oh-knee," you stretch out her name, "can you please help me with this?"
She looks up, and you indicate your Potions essay. You see her eyes become slimmer and she looks up at you.
"Ronald, I'm busy."
You sigh and stand up, grabbing your essay and quill and walk over to her table. Even though you know she hates when you do it, you grab the current essay she's working on and holds it above your head, a smirk playing on your features when you see her stand up and try to grab it. This is why you love being taller than her.
You swiftly turn your back to her, causing her to stumble since she had been partially leaning on you. You hold your arm to her, making sure she's out of reach to the paper. She's fighting you, but you're taller, larger, and stronger than her thirteen year old self, so you can hold her off.
Your smile fades off you face when you see the name on her paper is in fact not her's. It says in a small, neat handwriting, 'Harry James Potter'.
Suddenly, your pride steps back in and you turn around, your face gaining more and more color as the seconds go by. You speak through clenched teeth, "You're doing Harry's essay?"
Hermione stands up tall, but still barley reaching your shoulder. She's angry as well, you can see it. "Excuse me, he's actually very busy at the moment, doing these you aren't. He needs his rest."
She doesn't want to hurt you feelings, Weasley, your mind tells you. She must like him. A lot.
You hand her the paper, and slowly make your way back to your dormitory. You glare at Harry's sleeping form before going to sleep, not caring to finish your essay.
