Turnabout is Most Definitely Fair Play

Word Count: 762

Hermione's POV

When we first started school, Ron was always the casual, laid-back, best-friend-of-the-hero kind of guy. He didn't worry much about what people thought––except for Malfoy––although he did care particularly about what people said about his family––especially when it was Malfoy that said it. He didn't care much about class work either, apart from when his mum came into the picture…now those were Howlers anyone would run away from.

I, in contrast, was a typical book worm, obsessed with school and following the rules. Great load of good that did me… thanks to Voldemort. I was also, I'm kind of sorry to say, very, very organized––probably too much so, seeing as I gave both Harry and Ron talking planners for Christmas. Even I agree that's going as bit far.

But, even through the obvious differences in our personalities, I ended up liking Ron Weasley.

I'm not sure when it happened, I just know it wasn't on the train, our first year when I walked in on him trying to perform some stupid spell on his rat. Back then, I just thought he was another thick show-off. Well, it turns out I was sort of right, about him being a bit slow and all, just not exactly in the way I had imagined.

He was clueless when it came to school and common sense and anything that required you to think and use your head for more than about five seconds, including understanding or even having an ordinary emotional range. At least, this was my first impression of him.

It turns out, he could be really nice when he wanted to…and considerate too. Like when I tripped walking down the stairs, and sprained my ankle, or when I had to go to the hospital wing after Pansy Parkinson hexed me behind my back and made my front teeth grow to the size of a small dictionary. Ron didn't laugh once, though he was probably tempted to, and even yelled at that wretch Pansy for me since I could barely speak. He did help me hobble to Madame Pomfrey's however, and came to visit whenever he could; regardless of the fact that he and Harry couldn't always come because of their constant detentions with Snape. It was really nice of him––of the both of them actually, but at the time, I only had eyes for Ron.

I was always the one to act nervous, even if it didn't usually show. My heart would flutter a bit when I saw him (it sounds completely stupid thinking about it now) and my hands would get sweaty and shake a little. Fortunately, the books I always carried around hid this fact. I even tried to sneak looks at him every once in a while. Other than that, though, I struggled to act normally, and not like a complete idiot, in front of everyone else.

Still, I always thought Harry had caught on. He always looked at the two of us with a strange look on his face, that kind when he's trying to think, but the ideas get jumbled up in his head. I suspected he had figured out what was happening, but didn't say anything to me––or to Ron either, for that matter. I was thankful.

Things were like this for a long time. Then, in our fifth year––this one, in other words––everything changed.

Ron suddenly turned into the typical school-oriented, hard-working student, trying to beat his brothers in the race for O.W.L.S., and always putting up 'but's and 'what if's when we wanted to do something even remotely risky, afraid of getting any more Howlers from his mum.

I, on the other hand, turned rebel, setting up the DA and breaking what felt like a million rules––all in one year. I also started to notice that Ron, the prat that he was, snuck looks at me when he thought I wasn't looking, just like I used to do to him, and when we talked, he would stutter and wind up getting his words mixed up, which would generally lead to him blushing beet-red. I thought it was rather cute.

It might seem a bit mean or maybe even arrogant in some people's opinions, but I intend to let him go at it like that for a while, just to see what happens. I've spent way too much time seeing myself act that way, with him just blubbering around, not noticing, in the slightest bit, what I'm feeling. Now it's his turn.

Who ever said life wasn't fair?