Chapter 8: Apologies in the Common Room
By Sango-sama
Author's notes: Doo doo doo. Not really much to say today. This is my break from Finals, but the bulk of my tests are later this week, so you may not see another chapter until Saturday or so.
Update-ness (12-13-01) After talking with a number of people and reading the wonderful reviews I've gotten about this story, I found that nearly everyone wants to hear what Dear Ickle Ronniekins has said. Imagine that! ^_^* I really had intended not to, because I enjoy the whole mystery of the thing and all, but in the giving spirit of the season I will tell once the review number hits a certain point....it won't be for some time, I figure, but it will be put in the story eventually. I think it'd make a great last line. ^_- If by some miracle the story hits the magic number (which is the page number of one of my favorite HP quotes) before I finish writing, it will go in the chapter I'm working on and I'll make some announcement in the Author's notes. If I don't get it until say June of next year (by which I'm figuring this will be done), well...I guess I'll have to haqve to write an epilogue. Please Enjoy!
Dedication: The story is dedicated to my Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin. But this chapter gets dedicated to Chira, who has been as close to a beta-reader for this fic as I've been able to get.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or the original song Love Potion No. 9. But they sure are fun to borrow!
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Upon leaving Myrtle, Hermione trudged through the hallways to Advanced Transfiguration. Her head was far from her studies, settling rather on a rather hot-tempered Red-head. She tossed a glare at Ron where he stood on the other side of Harry. He had his head slumped on the desk, half-heartedly waving his wand at the wicker baskets they were supposed to be transforming into cats. He seemed to be having nearly as much trouble concentrating as she; his basket sprouted whiskers and a tail but bore no further resemblance to a cat..
People kept approaching her all during dinner, offering everything from sympathy to tips from half of the Slytherin table on how to improve her right hook. She sat quietly by Ginny and a few of her fellow fourth year Gryffindors, staring at her plate, nodding her thanks to those offering sympathy. Ginny had been nice enough to drive away the Slytherins.
After dinner, Hermione had gone straight to the library, immensely glad to immerse herself into a stack of books rather than face any more people. She was all too happy to drown her own troubles in the jumble of words.
Madame Pince had looked a bit eager to leave, but having witness the scene in the dining hall earlier in the day, she told Hermione to stay as long as she needed, but to be back to her dorm before lights out.
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The lights in the common room had already been dimmed, a few candles flickering off in the far corner, making the room just bright enough for her to see her way to the dormitory steps. And just bright enough for Hermione to see a figure laying on the common room sofa, as the flickering light gleamed off their hair.
Setting her book laden pack to the ground, she frowned. It was Ron.
His auburn hair was sleep tussled and the hem of his dress shirt was peeking out from under his sweater. He was sprawled out on the sofa, his head cushioned by the armrest and an open book resting over his chest. His legs were tucked up onto the cushions
She stood there for a few moments, just watching him sleep. He looked deceptively innocent and calm, his temper hiding behind a mask of unquiet sleep. A smile crept up on her lips, as she temporarily forgot what a prat he had been at lunch. He must have been waiting for her to come back.
Walking over to the couch, she hovered over him a moment. She closed the Potions book he had been reading, marking off the place with a scrap of paper setting on the side end table. Picking up his discarded school robe, she lay it over top of him like a blanket.
"Hermione..." He had grabbed her hand, his eyes barely opened, but were clearly staring straight up at her.
Her eyes grew wide and she felt herself grow very warm; her cheeks, she was certain, must have been very nearly the colour of Ron's hair. Silently, she thanked whoever had turned down the lights. Not that Ron would ever really notice any ways.
He sat up on the sofa, his free hand rubbing over his eyes and the other still grasping Hermione's. His legs swung off the the sofa and onto the floor. The robe was pushed back onto the couch.
His eyes couldn't quite meet hers; "'m sorry," he mumbled, still a bit sleepily. "I just...I wasn't thinking."
Her eyes narrowed. "No...you weren't." She wanted to be terribly angry, but somehow she wasn't able to bring herself to having a row with him right now. True she was quite tired, but she had a growing suspicion that the warm hand holding onto hers was doing quite a bit to calm her anger. The warmness she was feeling had yet to die away. "But thank you for apologizing."
Ron had apparently grown aware of where his hand was, because he dropped her hand abruptly, his ears quite obviously red, even in the dim light, and his eyes gazing into the bluebell flames dancing in the hearth. "If it makes you feel better, you can slug me."
She regarded Ron with an odd expression, nodding slightly. His eyes trailed her as she stood up in front of him, pulling her fist back.
Eyes screwed shut, Ron's face scrunched up, anticipating the impact of her fist with his face. He waited and waited. But nothing came.
Suddenly, he felt the pressure of Hermione's palm gently pressing against the side of his face. Startled, he opened his eyes, to her brown eyes staring back at him.
"I don't want to hit you again, Ron. I don't even want to fight with you now." Her expression was serious, but softer than it had been. "Just please listen to me."
She was looking him right in the eyes with...like that. Ron couldn't speak. He barely managed to nod, as he swallowed back that little lump that was slowly forming at the base of his throat.
"Viktor is just a friend. He sent me that package today, because when my parents and I visited his family this summer, we took some muggle books that had been cluttering our library and...well, he found them very useful." A sort of secretive smile was lilting Hermione's lips. "It was a gift he had given me then, but I had forgotten to take it before getting on the aeroplane."
Ron nodded mutely, still staring straight forward.
Hermione wasn't even sure if he heard a word she had been saying. Though it seemed nearly impossible, his ears had appeared to become even more red and he had been looking at her rather like a deer that had been caught in headlights.
She stood up, walking back over to the portrait hole to retrieve her bag. "Well," she announced, apparently to the walls since Ron still seemed off in his own world, "I'm off to bed."
Ron was nodding again.
She shook her head, and rather annoyed, walked back over to Ron. Her voice had started to hiss, "Ron, we need to give Harry the potion tommorrow...at Hogsmeade."
His head had started to bob up and down, before he caught himself. "What?" he whispered, half croaking, looking up at her.
She smiled, shaking her head. "Just get up on time tommorrow, Ron. We've got a job to do in Hogsmeade."
Ron looked terribly confused. "Huh?"
