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*