Hermione was so unbelievingly
angry as she walked out of the door of whatever shop they were both in- kissing,
she remered. She ran her hand through her hair (which, believe it or not, she
had actually smoothed down for RON, the prat), just fuming. She bumped into
an old witch as she was half-running, half-walking down Diagon Alley. "Sorry!"
she called after the witch, who was grumbling slightly about underage witches
these days. Hermione usually was considerate towards other people, but anger
could make her blow up at someone. "Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn,"
muttered the brunette, who was rushing as fast as she could, away from the shop,
and away from Ron. Her bookbag was slamming uncomfortably on her hip, making
her wish she could at least use a Muggle backpack. Hermione walked for a while,
trying to find an Underground station. Usually she carried a Travel Card of
it around in her pocket, but today she must have forgotten it. Anyway, she knew
the stations near her home like the back of her hand, so she never had any trouble
getting places. The trouble was getting back.
She found herself in the
inner heart of London, full of tall grey buildings and busy people with shopping
bags in their hands. There, she saw a Metro (AN: Sorry! I'm only familiar with
the French metro, so that's what the Underground shall be named on signs and
such.) Hermione looked around herself, finding her body on the corner of Weschire
and Forton, people jostling around her. She walked down the hard crumbling steps
of the South Kensington station, finding herself in one of many brightly lit
white tunnels. The tunnel she was in was very wide, and the sides had posters
of various kinds of plays, shopping centers, Marie Claire posters with "Make
Sex Sparkling!" splashed everywhere so that everybody travelling today
would see it. Hermione walked down the tunnel with the flat bottom warily, rushing
by a little faster as she passed a young man with bloodshot eyes yelling, "Change
for a pound! Change for a pound!"
After much deliberation
and trouble, she found a ticket machine, and managed to get a map of the London
Underground. Hermione lived 10 minutes by bus away from High Barnet, which was
all the way at the end of the black line, north of where she was- in Green Park
which was on the periwinkle blue line. She traced the lines for a moment, trying
to figure out how many stops and how many times she'd have to switch lines.
Hermione had it figured out in under a minute, and pullet some Muggle money
discreetly out of her jeans pocket. You couldn't be too careful- even though
guards were stationed everywhere. She bought two tickets, one to stop off at
Warren Street. Then she'd have to get off and get on at Euston- the second little
bubble from the left, and then ride all the way to High Barnet.
She went through the bars,
and made it into the train, the silvery doors just gnashing together after she
jumped on quickly. She looked around warily, and made her way through the normally
crowded seats, graffiti sprayed all over the floors. Hermione sat down quickly
in an empty red seat, depositing her bookbag upon the place next to her. She
could breathe a little more easily now, crossing her tanned arms over her blue
shirt. She had gotten away from Ron quickly enough to not show her complete
embarrassment to him. Crossing her legs in front of her, she noticed a little
girl in messy red pigtails and checked blue overalls. The little girl had deep
gray eyes and was coloring in a coloring book- and the pictures started moving
after the little girl colored in them. A woman sat next to the little girl,
also with red hair. She was continually picking up crayons as the little girl
kept on accidentally putting them in her lap, making them roll off onto the
mother. The compartments started swaying, which indicated that the train had
started to move. Flashing lights outside of the train blared on and off in the
dim part of where the passengers were. The tunnels rushed by as the little girl
colored furiously with a smushed up brown crayon.
Hermione smiled at them,
looking at the dog the girl was coloring in. The dog was starting to make barking
movements with his mouth, when the mother finally noticed that Hermione was
looking at the coloring book. The woman hastily took the coloring book away
from her supposed daughter and closed it, putting it in her blue leather purse.
"It's a hologram coloring
book," the woman said quickly, flashing a smile at Hermione.
"It's okay- I go to
Hogwarts, you don't have to worry about hiding it from me," she smiled
back at the lady. Hermione stuck her hand out, the woman reaching out to shake
her hand also. "I'm Hermione Granger."
"For a moment there
I thought you were a Muggle- what kind of a witch travels on the Underground?"
the woman said, laughing. "I'm Ramona Weasley. This is my daughter- Victoria."
Hermione looked at them,
not being able to believe the weird coincidence. "Would there be any relation
to the Weasleys with the certain names of Ginny, Fred, George, Bill, Charlie,
and Ron Weasley?" There went his name again...
"I'm their aunt!"
Ramona Weasley said proudly. "Ronald would be in your year, right?"
"Mm-hmm. He's my friend."
Now, apparently to Ron, a snogging partner. How. Wonderful.
"Oh! You wouldn't happen
to be the girl in the picture with the infamous Harry Potter, would you? Ron
has lots of pictures of him and the girl that looks like you. And you seem so
familiar, like out of a magazine or the morning paper...." the woman mused
over this for a second.
"I would happen to
be," Hermione told her, her lips thinning a little. She really hoped that
Ramona Weasley didn't read the "Witch Weekly," or then there were
going to be some complications explaining everything. And Ron had pictures of
her up around his walls? Strangely disturbing, but still. Or he just had pictures
of Ron, Harry, and herself in one simple picture. "I mean, I have pictures
of him. And Harry. All in one picture, too. Wait- would that make me weird to
just have pict-" Hermione mentally slapped herself for going out on a babble.
Oh, if Rita Skeeter could
hear her now. "A True Love Story- the Girl *Madly* in love with a Celebrity
and the son of a Ministry Official."
Ramona seemed to know exactly
what she was talking about. "That Rita Skeeter is an abomination, isn't
she?" she said as she pulled the coloring book back out of her purse and
handed it to her daughter. "The way she talks about people..." Ramona
shook her head disdainfully. "It's really not a shame that she's gone now.
I wonder what in the world could happen to her. I'm quite sure she's not dead-
she's like a cockroach, they never die."
Hermione had to smile. "You
have no idea."
"Oxford Circus,"
bellowed the loudspeakers loudly. The train slowly came to a smooth stop, and
Hermione's compartment because subtly lighter as the yellow lighting came into
the plastic scratched-out windows. Doors opened on each side, and more people
came pouring in, bustling about with their packages and shop bags.
"Mum, how much longer
do we have to be here?" asked Victoria in a soft voice, putting down her
crayons and looking up into her mother's eyes pleadingly. "The doggie peed
on the coloring book." She pointed at a the dog she had colored in in the
book.
Hermione had to stifle a
giggle as tears appeared in the small girl's eyes.
Ramona Weasley smiled warmly
at her daughter. "We still have to go all the Hornchurch, love. That's
about 30 minutes, all right?"
Victoria pouted a little,
but flipped the page over in her coloring book and started to work on a sun.
"We're going to go
visit your friend Ron and his family for a week until we get a house. I wanted
to live a little bit closer to my brother," explained the red-haired woman,
who really did look a lot like Arthur Weasley when you looked a little closer.
"Their house is absolutely fascinating. Wizarding houses usually aren't
all that interesting, don't you think? But Arthur's house, now, that's a piece
of art."
"Well, I wouldn't know.
I'm Muggle born," clarified Hermione, who had been to Ron's house before.
If that was interesting, then she really did want to see other wizarding houses.
Hopefully ones without house elves.
"Really?" Ramona
Weasley sounded fascinated. "So, that's why you're on the Underground!
I don't believe 5th years can apparate yet, can they? Victoria and I are just
taking the Underground because it's actually much safer then Floo powder. We
had sent our baggages by Floo powder, but when we try to do it, well, things
don't work out so well. Our fireplace is a barbecue, and it's much too crammed
for the two of us."
Hermione seemed a little
bewildered by how much one woman could talk. "Oh, well, my parents are
a little scared of letting me travel that way."
"Sometimes the Muggle
way is the best way," the tomato haired lady told her confidentially. Victoria
continued to scribble in her book, while giggling giddily. (AN: Yay, alliteration!)
"I think Muggles are
absolutely fascinating. Arthur is obssessed with them. Have you ever been to
their house? The Order of Merlin should issue him an award for having so many
Muggle things and not magicking them to do wonderful things. Goodness knows
I'd be tempted," she declared confidently to Hermione, leaning over her
handbag laying on her lap to tell her this.
Hermione felt her lips tug
up slightly. If only Ramona Weasley knew what her brother was doing, she'd go
*on* and on about that even to her, a not-so-complete stranger. The teenage
girl decided not to budge in at this point to tell her of the time that Harry
and Ron- Ron, the bloody prick, had flew to Hogwarts on their father's bewitched
car. Flew. Not drove! Not that she would, anyway, but it really was an
interesting conversation point.
"So, where are you
heading to today?" asked Arthur Weasley's sister.
"Actually, I'm heading
back to High Barnet. I just came back from a tutoring lesson with Ron,"
clarified Hermione, leaning back in the uncomfortable plastic chairs a little.
"Well, so the boy tutors
now? Good, it'll make a little bit more for Arthur and Molly." Ramona smiled
somewhat.
"I'm teaching Ron.
He didn't do so nicely on his exams last year, so I'm helping him. But, I requested
that I only get paid very little," she stuttered, after Ramona Weasley's
look.
"Good!" Ramona
smiled, glad to hear that she wasn't taking all the poor family's money.
Then, the train stopped
again, and the tinny loudspeakers called out gruffly: "Euston!"
Ramona Weasley's mouth made
a small 'O' and started to gather up her daughter's crayons, ignoring her protests.
"Well, the time just flew with you, Hermione, love. This is our change."
She was very hurried, putting the coloring utensils and magical coloring book
in her daughter's pink backpack, then hoisting the little girl off the seat.
"Bye bye, Hermeeown!"
said little Victoria sweetly, with her big eyes. "I'll tell Ron you said
hello."
"Bye, Victoria,"
replied Hermione, smiling a little at the adorable girl. If only Victoria knew
what an idiotic boy her cousin was... Well, she would, soon enough. Ramona Weasley
stuck her hand out, pushing her hair back behind her hear with her other hand.
"It was lovely to meet you. Maybe I'll even see you if you come by the
house in Ottery St. Catchpole. But that's far, isn't it?"
She gave a quick smile to
Hermione, after shaking her hand. "Bye!"
Then, Ramona Weasley and
her daughter, holding hands tightly, walked off the train into the station.
Hermione didn't know what
to feel now, now that she had met Ron's aunt and his cousin. She couldn't even
vent a little, or then Ms. Weasley would have told Ron about what happened and
how she had looked "a little disturbed." Now, Hermione was by herself,
on the train, and didn't know whether she was highly frustrated, perturbed,
or completely turned on by the fact that Ron had kissed her first. Not like
she had ever planned on kissing him, she thought hastily.
So she slumped back lazily,
the seats facing her now empty. Soon, they would be filled with people and Ramona
and Victoria would be erased from the chairs' memories, until they came back
and graced them with their presence. Hermione crossed her legs straight in front
of her, and crossed her arms just under the swell of her chest. Glancing at
her silver watch (which really did work in the magic world, as it didn't require
electricity), she saw that she had about 10 minutes 'til she'd arrive in High
Barnet, and then take a bus to her part of town.
She tried to think of something
happy, she really did. Her mind wouldn't listen to her, and just kept on flashing
back to Ron's lips pressed on hers, so warm, the thin lines on his lips molding
perfectly to hers. Goosebumps appeared on her arms, and she slapped her hand
lightly. 'No. Don't think of Ron. Think of- arithmancy. The square root of Ron
is- damn, damn, damn...'
It was useless. And it was
all his fault. If he hadn't kissed her, none of this would've happened and we
could be the way we were. I'm going to have to send him an owl and tell him
to forget about everything that happened this lesson- not that they had learned
anything worthwhile in Hogwarts except how to snog without your mouths open.
It was *sick*, really, just pathetic. Then Hermione smiled. Oh, *so* sick*.
But it was good, she reminisced.
Very good.
_____________
"Hermione, Hermione,
Hermione, Hermione..." Ron stood in Diagon Alley much the same way Hermione
before he had arrived for lessons. He kept on running Hermione's name through
his head, lest he forget the woman who damned his soul to some evil creature.
It was his punishment. Then he would have to face facts, and accept the fact
that he was a bad, bad, naughty boy who had absolutely no common sense and should
be sentenced to die a long slow death in a cold chamber with nothing but his
skivvies. That's how bad he was. An innocent passerby might think him a little
odd, but if the woman sitting on a bench across from his standing figure were
to look close enough, she could hear and see him muttering soft, angered little,
"Why why why?"'s underneath his breath.
Luckily for Ronald Weasley,
no one really paid attention to him or his tall, akward stance in the middle
of the alley. So he just glanced at his watch quickly, to find that only 5 minutes
had passed since he'd received the weirdest and most mind-boboobling of his
entire life. "Okay, well, then that's an exaggeration. Still," thought
Ron angrily, "What right had she to- to- do such naughty things? Hiding
underneath that guise of a studious nerdy schoolgirl, how dare she!"
Well, he really wasn't quite
sure who instigated this rather large problem. The only problem was, was that
he'd have to go back again next week and face the wrath of his best friend,
who he believed had no right to be angry. She had kissed him! Why was she angry
at him? "So unfair," murmured Ron. Again, nobody heard him, and his
mum/dad/somebody still hadn't arrived with the floo powder and such.
Then, a tall figure strode
over the smooth cobblestones down the long length of Diagon Alley, calling out
his name.
"Ron! There you are!
Where were you? I've been looking around for a while, and you weren't where
I left you," breathed out Mr. Weasley, who was a little flushed and out
of breath. "What did you do to Hermione?" he then demanded, instantly
assuming that Ron had poofed her out of existence.
"Dad, don't worry.
She's not dead or anything like that-" he said quickly before Mr. Weasley's
eyes could do their Look thing. "She just went home, nothing to worry about.
But she didn't have any floo powder, so, she had to take the Muggle thingie
that goes places."
"Oh, the Underground!
How fascinating!" exclaimed Mr. Weasley excitedly, before snapping out
of his excitement, and remarking, "I didn't get to pay her. I'll have to
send it by owl mail and hope that Pigwidgeon won't eat the money."
Father and son started walking
down the midday light alley, towards their destination of the Diagon Alley entrance,
where then they could be transported back home via the lightweight green powder.
"I'm pretty sure she'll
get it. And Pig won't eat it; he only eats Mum's treacle tarts to Harry,"
reassured Ron.
"Well, here we are.
Remember the rules, Ron. And don't tell your mother I didn't get a chance to
pay Hermione, she'll go off on a tangeon again..." Mr. Weasley reminded
his son.
Ron gingerly pinched some
powder from his father's hand and threw it into the Diagon Alley entrance, which
was really just a deep brick wall with the golden glowing words of "Diagon
Alley, London" embellished upon its scratchy surface.
"The Burrow!"
Ron called loudly into the instantly roaring fire. Then, he was swept away into
a deep vortex of green and swishy colors, vivid red flames, fireplaces, and
a very confused looking wizard he recognized as Professor Flitwick. He wanted
to say 'hello' to him, but he stumbled into the charry black fireplace of his
home before he could. It was just as well. Students weren't meant to see their
teachers on their vacations; it was kind of like having tutoring sessions with
Hermione. Only that gave him an extreme headache as he stumbled upon a faded
green couch of their family's in the living room. He plopped down soddenly on
it, as weary as dried dirt.
Mr. Weasley came in soon
after him, his hat askew and capes a-whirled. "Well then! Burrow, sweet
Burrow."
He smiled at his son. Ron
managed to fathom a smile back. He jumped off the couch, and managed to weave
through the many wizarding items the family had, and walked up the long winding
staircase with the Nit-Grit popping out at him through the door of his twin
brother's room. Then, the youngest Weasley boy got an idea. He knocked at the
worn door softly, hoping that Fred and George were in there.
"Enter, young Weasley!"
boomed one of the twins' voices from their room. Ron opened the door carefully,
expecting to see the Nit-Grit (dust monster) attack him. Instead, he found the
two boys lying upon their bunk beds (covered with the Thundellara Thunders from
Australia). Fred and George looked a little too calm and innocent laying idly
upon the coverlets, with thunderbolts striking safely near kangaroos.
Ron pulled up a swirly blue
office chair to the bunk bed, spinning a little once he sat on it. The room
spun around him in panoramic view, the boys' posters of their Quidditch team
grinning and hooting silently at him. Opposite from their white bed were two
small desks absolutely cluttered with papers and drawings. To the right of the
desks was a built-in armoire that when you clapped, it would open and you could
say which cloak you wanted to wear today and what trousers. To the left of the
desks were three windows smushed together that looked out onto the green front
yard. Several wrinkly little horned toads walked by the bushes akwardly, tipping
over occasionally.
The youngest Weasley boy
sighed ruefully and gazed upon his older brothers; whom were looking expectantly
at him.
"Spit it out already,
will you?" groaned George, who had the top bunk. "Gred and me have
'portant things to do that don't concern you, little brother. No offense intended."
"None taken,"
sniped Ron unintentionally.
"There's no need to
get snippy, Ronald," said Fred, who was twiddling his thumbs, looking quite
bored. "Was the lesson that awful?"
"Who said anything
about a lesson?" asked Ron, feeling a little panicked himself. He hadn't
come in here to talk about Hermione, had he? But what other reason did he come
into his brothers' rooms for except to nick some of their Chocolate Frogs? "Lesson
was fine."
"Right," Fred
said, smiling a little. Something was *definitely* in his brother's trousers,
gnarling at his ankles. "If you say so."
"Mm-hmm," George
joined in. "We believe you, ole boy."
"Oh, completely,"
Fred chimed in, poking Ron in the stomach.
"Hey! Everything was
fine, I'm fine, we're all fine."
"So why are you in
here disturbing our precious bonding time in which we need to bond?" said
George, knowing exactly that something was wrong with his younger brother. The
twins could always tell if something was wrong with Ron- he was *such* a temperamental
boy, so sensitive.
"You don't ever bond,"
declared Ron, feeling a little smug, sitting there in the twirling blue office
chair.
"And you never sneak
into our room unless you want our goodies," declared Fred. "So what's
with the what? Who's with the who? Tell us, Ron, and get a clue!"
"Good one," said
George.
"Thank you, Fred."
"You're welcome, George."
Ron sighed, knowing already
that the twins knew something was up. "Fine, I'll tell you." Inside,
he felt a little squeamish about telling the twins the day's events, but he
had to get it out. It was too weird to let it bottle inside of him, but then
again, if he told Fred and George... They'd be on his back for the rest of his
life. Fred and George sat up eagerly, looking at Ron with bright eyes. "You
snogged someone, didn't you? You ditched Hermione and snogged someone!"
said George excitedly, his long legs dangling over the edge of the top bunk.
"No, wait, you STOLE
something! Oh, you did, di'in't you? Oh, whadja steal, c'mon now, tell us!"
Fred bounded up and down on his bed, grinning.
"Yes, no," Ron
replied vaguely. His hands were feeling all clammy in the bright room. It was
a little uncomfortable, but he had to or he'd explode!
"You snogged someone!
You snogged someone!" said Fred and George simultaneously. "Who's
the lucky girl?"
"Shouldn't you say
boy?" Ron winked at them.
Fred's mouth dropped. George's
eyes went wide. Gulped. "You... Kissed a boy?" whispered Fred furtively.
"Well, if you lean
that way, then you lean that way..." George shook his head in disbelief.
Ron had seemed so- not poofy... What had they done?
"Please! I snogged
a girl, all right?" muttered Ron, who had turned a bright shade of red
and whose heart was fluttering again.
George and Fred gave each
other high fives, and Fred slapped him on the back. "We knew you weren't
a-a-"
"Poofter," finished
George.
"Right."
"So, who? Who was it?
Tell us! We have to know so then we can educate you, little brother dearest,"
exclaimed Fred joyously. He faked a tear running down his face. "Our 'ittle
'wittle beebee is growing up! I don't know how you can stand this, George, but
I sure can't."
Ron looked at his odd brothers
warily, then grinned. "Oh yeah, I'm real grown up now."
"Oh, but you are,
Ronnikins. Don't you understand? You're a big boy now."
"Who?" asked Fred,
not to be pushed aside. "Who?"
"Her-hairislovely,"
said Ron, completely incoherent.
"It was HERMIONE!"
George exclaimed triumphantly. "It was her, wasn't it? Ah, I knew it! 3
long years of sexual tension can only leave so much self control in a man."
He grinned at Ron and smacked him on the shoulder. "You naughty bastard,
you. Taking advantage of your teacher."
"What?" Ron's
voice shook slightly. "Who said anything about Hermione? No, no,no."
The no seemed to have done
Fred in, too. "So it was! Ooh, you lucky ass, you. Is she good? She is,
isn't she? Look at you, you're grinning like an idiot. You looooooooooooooovvvvveee
her! Ronnie's got a girlfriend, Ronnie's got a girlfriend!"
"Fine. It was Hermione,"
mumbled Ron, blushing furiously and grinning with pearly white teeth.
George let out a tiny squeal.
"Pay up, Fred."
"Oh, come on now, we're
brothers. Twins. Kindred spirits. If I paid you it'd be like paying m'self,"
groaned Fred.
"You bet on me?"
asked Ron incredulously. "When?"
"Fifth year, we started
it, actually. Reflectin' on it, I 'spose it was pure genius on our parts,"
said George not-so-humbly. "You little weenies were in 3rd year, and it
was really too obvious. I'm surprised Harry didn't ever notice it; I would've.
But I guess that's why I'm in seventh year and he's in fifth, and,"
"Anyway," Fred
continued for George, who was veering off into a completely different subject,
"When you and Hermione were fighting about that damned cat and Scabbers,
rest his soul-"
Ron rolled his eyes inwardly,
knowing the true nature of the despicable Scabbers.
"There was a lot of
tension between you two. A lot. And so George and m'self took it upon us to
bet on you two to see how long it would take you to realize your deep and concentrated
love and attraction..." Fred sighed happily. "And now it has finally
happened, and that's why I have to pay George, which I really don't want to
do right now so Georgie-pie, please don't make me?"
"Actually," Ron
cut in, "We haven't. I kissed her- or she kissed me- when we were 'sposed
to be doing our lessons. We got lost in the Diagon Alley alley, and we went
through this empty store and it was just completely out there."
"Wait- so you didn't
feel anything for her and then you just kissed her? That's harsh, Ron. Real
harsh," twitted George, raising his eyebrows at his brother. "You
didn't tell her you didn't feel anything, right? Because that would be really,
really, stupid, you know that?"
"Err... Well, I sort
of didn't tell her anything afterwards. I said we had to go. Because Dad might've
been waiting for me," Ron said nervously, waiting for his brother's reactions.
"Noooooo..." moaned
George loudly, flopping back on his bed.
"You idiot."
said Fred, his mouth agape, shaking his head at Ron. "Why did you do
that?"
"Well, what was I supposed
to say? 'Hey, Herm, you look nice today, thanks for the snog, I love you?'"
said Ron rather angrily. "I mean, that was my first actually kissing experience
and-"
"As sweet and darling
as that is, lovely stupid boy, you don't ever shove the girl away after you
kiss her. Didn't you even stop and think that Hermione might have- some repressed
feelings about you? Don't you even slightly care for her?" said George,
sounding quite disappointed in him.
"Well..." Ron
started softly, not sure of what to say. "I don't know! She makes me so
mad sometimes, you know! And then she's all smart and Hermione one day, and
then she's wearing a tight shirt and her hair is straight, and it's Hermione
but it's not Hermione and it's confusing."
"Oh, yeah. She likes
you, Ron. I'm figuring she likes you a sodding lot. Then you go and stomp on
her heart."
"Lesson the first,
Ronnikins: when you kiss a girl for the first time, you have to declare feelings
afterwards. Have to, have to, have to. Or do something that's less idiotic than
what you did," replied Fred, sounding as disappointed as George.
"I don't feel anything
for her! I don't!" Ron denied, feeling a little flustered. "You can't
'declare' anything unless you have feelings."
"Or unless you don't
know it yet. You're a boy, Ron, doi. Of course you're not going to know it.
Like me and Angelina..." Fred told him, patting him on the back. "You're
going have to figure this part out on your own. We can't do anything for you;
you have to figure this mess out yourself."
"Poor boy; so much
in denial," sighed George. "Now go. You go and sulk and have a Chocolate
Frog. No doubt your blood sugar is low and you're not thinking so nicely."
George handed Ron a glossy
little frog from the plastic container by their bed that served as a nighttable.
"You go. Go and be with yourself."
Then, he pushed Ron out
of the small bedroom, leaving him out in the little staircase by himself with
nothing but a chocolate frog. He took a bite out of it, and felt instantly better.
But there was still that sense of dread for next week. How could he go back
when he now knew Hermione liked him? It was terrifying! Then he took another
bite, and that cloud of worry went away, leaving him in the happy daze of chocolate.
_________________________________________
Muwahaha! Chapter
three, also NOT the end... I'm sorry, that end of the chapter sucked majorly,
I managed to come upon some lip gummies that I thought were strawberry but were
cinnamon and pretty nasty and eeeeeeeeeewwwww.... It just screwed the entire
mood. Anybody intrigued? I love Ramona Weasley, really, I do. Please review,
I love you! Oh, I sound like the twins... Anyway, yes. It's been a long long
time but I finally managed to do it. *beams*