Don't let the first few lines fool you

Chemistry

A STORY ABOUT GUYS, GIRLS, AND THE REASONS WHY

Don't let the first few lines fool you. This is NOT slash.

          Ron turned on his heel and peered anxiously into Harry's eyes.

            "I really, really like you," he began quickly. "I've liked you for a long time. Will you go out with me?"

            Harry gave a slight sigh from the bed on which he was sitting crossed-legged amidst a pile of books, watching Ron intently. "No, that doesn't work either," he stated bluntly.

            "What?" Ron threw up his arms in a gesture of defeat. "Why? You know what, I give up. I give up right now. What did I do wrong?"

            "It wasn't  romantic enough. Can't you say something about her hair or…..or moonlight or something?"

            "Her hair and moonlight, eh? Let me try," Ron's voice took on a tone of mock-seriousness. "Hermione, your hair makes me think of moonlight; will you go out with me?" He looked back over at Harry. "Like that?"

            Harry grabbed a pillow and chucked it a Ron's head. "Shut up, you git. You know that's not what I meant."

            Ron caught the pillow deftly in his hands. "Maybe this just isn't a good idea," he muttered.

            "What? Not a good idea? You've got to be joking, Ron, really, because if you and Hermione keep staring at each other like you do all the time, I'm going to crack. I'll go stark raving mad and it'll be all your fault. Now, you're going to ask her out….soon, understand? So you'd better figure out how to do it quick."

            "I could write her a poem," Ron offered tentatively.

            Harry snorted. "This is Hermione we're talking about. She doesn't go for poetry…….. or does she? You know, I don't know one single thing about girls."

            "I've noticed," muttered Ron derisively. "All right, what about this: Hermione, you've shared every important experience in my life, you're my best friend, and I care more about you than anyone else in the world."

            "Or you could just grab her in the hallway, spin her around, and snog her passionately," Harry offered, shrugging his shoulders.

            "What? And get slapped? No thanks."

            "She won't slap you if you kiss her hard enough."

            Ron cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you so experienced all of a sudden? And, speaking of things happening suddenly, since when have you been so supportive of Hermione and me getting together?"

            Harry looked away and shrugged once again. "It's not that I don't love the idea of my two best friends going around dopey-eyed and snogging all the time. It's just that you two are so pathetic that I can't stand it anymore. You've been harboring all these feeling for each other since, what, 4th year, was it? It's 7th year, Ron; your last chance. Now or never, mate. And from the way things have been going so far, never seems the more apparent choice."

            "Thanks for your unending support." Sarcasm dripped from Ron's voice as he spoke. "But in case you haven't noticed, it's your last chance too."

            "What's that supposed to mean?" Harry looked sharply at Ron, who smiled wickedly and sat down at his desk, taking a quill into his hand and pulling a piece of parchment in front of him.

            "Hey, Harry," he called over his shoulder. "You know any words that rhyme with Hermione?"

            Harry laughed, forgetting his puzzlement over Ron's comment. "Fo-tie-uh-me?"

            Ron made a rude noise and tossed an inkwell over his head at Harry, who ducked  expertly and caught it just before it hit the floor. It was going to be a long, long day………

           

*****

Hermione sat alone in her dormitory, desperately trying to concentrate on her potions book. But other thoughts kept creeping into her head, sneaking up on her when she least expected it. Wormroot, eye of newt, boomslang skin, Ron, damn it! Not him again! Was she ugly? Was that why?

Hermione slammed down her book, unable to keep these thoughts from her mind. She reached out and grabbed Lavender's hand mirror from the dressing table.

I don't know why I suddenly care so much, Hermione thought as her eyes roved over her reflection in the mirror, carefully studying the shape and details of her features. Brutally honest, Hermione reminded herself. She was pretty enough, though by no means what people would call stunning. She had the personality and intellect to match anyone, but as far as looks went, she knew she would never be much more than a poor man's Juliet. But Ron was poor. Then again, Ron was no Romeo.

"Maybe," she sighed to no one in particular, "maybe it's just better that way." She set the mirror back down on the dressing table and picked up her book again.

I just want to be Hermione, she thought as her eyes skimmed over black ink on the pages. I don't want to care about looks and all that rubbish. I just want to go back to the way I used to be. Why can't I stop thinking about Ron? Ron's a git, isn't he? Isn't that the way it's supposed to be? Oh, I hate being a girl! I can't concentrate! I'm going to fail this semester all because of Ron! I hate Ron!

But no, she didn't hate Ron. Quite the opposite, in fact. After another failed attempt at studying, Hermione hastily grabbed her book bag and stormed out of her dorm toward the library. Maybe she'd be able to concentrate there, where she'd be farther away from Ron and everything that he made her feel. But she knew she couldn't escape it. The feelings were everywhere, following her, suffocating her. It was either to act or to drown.

Her question hung unspoken in the air around her. "Does anyone have a life preserver?"

*****

"Finished!" called Ron triumphantly from his desk, startling Harry, who had slowly begun to fall into a stupor.

"Huh? Finished what?" Harry asked drearily.

"My poem to Hermione. Listen: 'Hey there Hermione, I think you're kinda neat. And if we got together, it would be really sweet. So please don't leave me hanging; I've really got to know. Will you be my girlfriend? Just answer yes or no.' So, what do you think….Harry…..Harry?"

Ron looked over his shoulder and spotted Harry, no longer on the bed but on the floor next to it, his shoulders convulsing with silent laughter.

"I think," he gasped between spurts of giggles, "that that's the most pathetic thing I've ever heard in my entire life."

Ron bit his lip in a sour expression. "Is it really that bad?"

"You sound exactly like Dr. Seuss!" Harry exclaimed.

"Who's that?"

"Someone that you sound like," Harry said offhandedly. "Don't tell me you were actually thinking of giving that to Hermione." He stood, wiped the tears from his eyes, and went to stand behind Ron, peering down at the poem over his shoulder.

"I thought you were being supportive," Ron muttered darkly.

"I was. But this - - this isn't worthy of support."

"So," began Ron, "where exactly in the hallway should I grab her and spin her around?"

"Somewhere where I'm not," said Harry simply, grabbing the poem from Ron and tossing it into the fireplace.

"Now?"

"Now," Harry nodded.

Ron rose sullenly from his chair and trudged over to the door.

"C'mon, Ron, brighten up," called Harry as Ron pulled open the door and stepped out of the dormitory. "You look like you're on your way to be executed."

"You never know," Ron called back. "I just may be."

*****

            The first place Ron looked for Hermione was in her dormitory and when she wasn't there, he instantly set off for the library. In his head, he rehearsed lines over and over, the words he would say to her when he found her. Should he say something about the moonlight? About her hair? Should he just kiss her? He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Why does it have to be this complicated?

            It was around dusk when Ron pushed open the door to the library, thin streams of light from the windows pouring out like snakes onto row after row of books. He looked around and spotted Hermione's book bag, the familiar brown one she always carried, full to the brim with various books and papers. But where was Hermione?

            Ron walked between aisle after aisle of books until at last coming to a dark corner in which rested several large armchairs. In the dim light, Ron could see movement in one of them. A girl with bushy brown hair. But - - but she wasn't alone. Someone was with her. She was kissing him…….

            Ron felt himself grow sick to his stomach as his face paled and blanched. It was Hermione……And she was kissing someone……But not just any someone.

It was Malfoy.

*****Alas, thus ends Chapter One. I claim nothing and I apologize for nothing. I especially don't apologize to Hermione for making her snog Malfoy. Draco's sexy…..dead sexy, lol. And Harry's not so bad either. *slaps herself across the head* Stop it, Rachel, you've got a boyfriend. You don't need to be fantasizing about fictional wizards. Anyway, write a review, tell me what you think, ask for more (if you want it). Flame me, threaten me, praise me, slander my very soul, but one truth remains: Review or Die…….and have a nice day. Ciao!~ f.B.i.