Harry Potter and the Fabled A-OO-gah (utterly blatant Ron/Hermione
fluffiness!)
Author's Notes: I don't own them. J.K. Rowling does, and I bet she's rolling over in her sleep at what I've done to them.
Author's Notes: Yaay! My first jump into Harry Potter-dom! It was bound to happen sooner or later...[sigh] I just hope Bezo will forgive me for this. Anyway, this is just a little piece of insanity that, ironically enough, Bezo helped me to come up with. I thought it was rather cute, so I wrote it down...with a couple changes to indulge my rapidly growing liking for the most adorable pairing of Ron and Hermione. This takes place in about their...sixth year at Hogwarts, I suppose. Well, whenever would make them all sixteen. Maybe seventeen.
Anyway, be gentle. And please take this in the spirit it was intended.
And now, oooooooooooooooooooooon with the show!
It was fairly clear to sixteen-year old Hermione Granger when she entered the Gryffindor common room that her best friends, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were leaving her out of something. Something most interesting, too, if their excited hushed tones and the way their heads were bent together, black contrasting with flaming red, was any indication.
And if there was one thing that Hermione disliked - aside from flying on the backs of very large creatures, Draco Malfoy, any other Slytherin about ninety percent of the time, being informed on no uncertain terms that she was a know-it-all (which tended to occur mostly at the hands of said Slytherins...and Ron), mustard, the particularly bad flavours of Every Flavour Beans, raisins, the taste of orange juice right after brushing one's teeth, shoes a size too small, unnecessary time spent fussing with one's hair, Professor Snape, breaking of several house rules at the same time, and less-than-perfect test papers - it was being left out of something.
Well. This certainly could not be allowed to pass without reproach. And so, carefully keeping out of sight, she leaned against the wall, watching them intently.
Being an intelligent girl, as well as knowing both of these young men rather well, it was immediately obvious to her that storming straight over and demanding to know what was going on would serve only to fire up Ron's temper - they had, after all, been rather at outs with one another this week, she reflected with a tiny sigh of regret - and would prompt an immediate response of, "None of your business!"
Better, therefore, to wait until Ron had left, and she could pick out of Harry what they had been talking about. A nice fellow, he was, and a good friend, but a real pushover.
It wasn't long to wait. After a few moments, Ron bid Harry goodbye with a casual wave, and started out of the common room, making a rather ridiculous show of not noticing her as he passed, although his ears did grow slightly pink.
Shaking her head, she started toward the corner of the room.
"So, Harry, what were you and Ron talking about?" she inquired, seating herself carefully in a large, cushioned wing chair next to his. Hermione, it seemed, did not waste time with subtlety.
"Hello to you too, Hermione," the dark-haired youth grinned.
"Yes, yes, hello and all that. Now, what were you talking about?"
"Well...er...ehm...that is, we...er..."
She tapped her foot impatiently. This sudden display of stuttering, as well as the way he had gone suddenly very red served only to fuel her curiosity.
"Oh, come now, spit it out!"
"Well...we were discussing a...a new spell!"
"Is that all?" she scoffed, somewhat disappointed. "Well, which one?"
"I...I don't think you'll know it," he choked.
"How absurd! Of course I will!"
"No, no, I really doubt you'll have learned this one yet."
She raised a sceptical eyebrow.
"That's ridiculous. If you and Ron are discussing it, I must've!"
"This...this is one that boys tend to learn about before girls."
"Piffle! What's it called?"
"It's...it's called 'A-OO-gah.'"
Hermione blinked. What an odd name...
"The A-oo-gah?" she repeated blankly. "Never heard of it! Why, I believe you've just made it up on the spot!"
"No, no, it's been around for a very long time. As long as there have been people, I think," the dark-haired boy assured her, gazing miserably at the floor. How, oh how, had he contrived to become entrapped in this conversation? Why, oh why, couldn't Ron choose this moment to come back and rescue him?
"Well, alright, then, what does this a-oo-gah of yours do?"
"It...it's hard to explain."
"Very well," she said impatiently. "Can you do it?"
"W-well, I probably COULD..."
"Then show me!"
Harry's eyes bugged out and he tugged at the uncomfortably tight collar of his robes.
"Er...that's a bad idea. This is hardly the place. And anyway, we're almost certain to get in trouble for it."
Well! Now, THIS sounded interesting, Hermione reflected.
"Come now, Harry, you've GOT to show me this spell! I don't know how it is that I don't know it yet, and I suppose I could ask one of the teachers just as easily, but-"
"Oh, don't do that!" he nearly yelped. "Really, it's not the sort of spell that the teachers will want to talk about.
"Harry," she began sternly. "Have you and Ron been casting a forbidden spell in your dormitory?"
"No!" he exclaimed, blushing more brightly than ever.
"Somehow, I don't believe you."
"Really, we haven't!"
"Then you're planning on it."
"No! We aren't! We really, really aren't! You've no idea how much we aren't!"
"Why? Is it a dangerous spell?"
"Well...it can be if the proper...precautions aren't taken..."
"What sort of precautions?"
"Er...there's a...er...something like a...really, Hermione, do we have to talk about this?"
"No, I suppose not," she sighed. "Maybe I can get Ron to tell me...once he's speaking to me again..."
Harry jumped on this suggestion immediately, most grateful that she had inadvertently let him off the hook.
"Yes, yes, that's a good idea! Go talk to Ron. I seem to remember him mentioning that he'd like to show you."
"Oh! Wonderful! But...he's still angry about the whole mustard incident - even though he was the one who threw the dish across the table and hit ME..." she trailed off, crossing her arms resentfully.
In truth, Ron had been aiming for Draco Malfoy, who had chanced at that moment to happen past with his lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, and had muttered several rather nasty things about Ron, Harry, and Hermione, finishing up with one particularly off-colour remark about Ron's family that had prompted the flying mustard pot. Unfortunately, when one is seeing red, as Ron undoubtedly was by this point, it is rather difficult to maintain perfect aim. As such, the mustard pot had fallen short of Malfoy, and had instead bounced off of the table and splattered their contents all over Hermione, who had been sitting directly in front of where Draco was standing at the time that the mustard pot had become airborne.
In her own mind, Hermione KNEW this - it had simply been a little hard on the patience to find herself liberally splattered with mustard, with no word of apology from the offender, whether or not she had been the intended target. Of course, she had sharply demanded an apology, and Ron, temper already stoked into a full blaze by Draco and his decided Draco-ness, had shot back that she should lighten up. And of course, no girl wearing the contents of a mustard pot all over her robes, face, and hair enjoys being told to lighten up.
From here, the argument had escalated.
Harry knew from his own experience with both Ron and Hermione that neither was likely still harbouring a grudge toward the other, now that tempers had cooled. Instead, they were probably both feeling quite sheepish, and quite miserable.
And he was really, REALLY beginning to get embarrassed by the turn this conversation had taken.
"If you tell him you want to try A-OO-gah, he'll speak to you in a shot."
She frowned.
"Why's that?"
"Er...it's...it's a lot of fun."
"Oh, have you tried it?"
"No," he hastened to reply, blushing brightly again. "That's just what I've heard."
Hermione stood up, shaking her head.
"You're acting awfully strangely."
"Oh...am I?"
"Incredibly. Anyway, do you happen to know where Ron went off to?"
"Er, the library, I think."
"Ron, in the library? How very novel. Oh, well. Maybe I can ask him to show me this A-oo-gah of yours there."
"No, I wouldn't suggest that. Really, it's much more suited to a...more private place."
"I'm sure he'll be able to come up with something."
"If an A-OO-gah's at stake, I wouldn't doubt it..."
Peering strangely at him, Hermione turned to leave.
"Aren't you going to come along and watch?"
"I-I'd really rather not...I'm not into that sort of thing."
"Into...that...oh, never mind. Well, I'll see you later, then?"
"Right," Harry agreed, waving goodbye as she started from the common room. Once she had gone, he finally gave into the gales of laughter that had been threatening to overtake him amidst his painful blushes this entire conversation through. "Heaven help poor Ron if she ever figures out exactly WHAT we were talking about..."
As it turned out, though, poor Ron needed little help from said heavens, as, once he finally managed to make Hermione understand what exactly A-OO- gah was, she was not angry, but quite in favour of trying it out then and there.
In fact, Ron's biggest problem at that point was how to get the two of them to a secluded supply closet and get the door locked before the garments started flying.
Needless to say, all animosity between the two was completely forgotten.
A-OOOOOOOOO-gah, indeed!
End Notes: Hee! I am SO sorry for this! I just couldn't resist! Just a bit of fun insanity. ^_^ Also, quite lacking in characterization. It was amusing, though. And short, if nothing else.
Author's Notes: I don't own them. J.K. Rowling does, and I bet she's rolling over in her sleep at what I've done to them.
Author's Notes: Yaay! My first jump into Harry Potter-dom! It was bound to happen sooner or later...[sigh] I just hope Bezo will forgive me for this. Anyway, this is just a little piece of insanity that, ironically enough, Bezo helped me to come up with. I thought it was rather cute, so I wrote it down...with a couple changes to indulge my rapidly growing liking for the most adorable pairing of Ron and Hermione. This takes place in about their...sixth year at Hogwarts, I suppose. Well, whenever would make them all sixteen. Maybe seventeen.
Anyway, be gentle. And please take this in the spirit it was intended.
And now, oooooooooooooooooooooon with the show!
It was fairly clear to sixteen-year old Hermione Granger when she entered the Gryffindor common room that her best friends, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were leaving her out of something. Something most interesting, too, if their excited hushed tones and the way their heads were bent together, black contrasting with flaming red, was any indication.
And if there was one thing that Hermione disliked - aside from flying on the backs of very large creatures, Draco Malfoy, any other Slytherin about ninety percent of the time, being informed on no uncertain terms that she was a know-it-all (which tended to occur mostly at the hands of said Slytherins...and Ron), mustard, the particularly bad flavours of Every Flavour Beans, raisins, the taste of orange juice right after brushing one's teeth, shoes a size too small, unnecessary time spent fussing with one's hair, Professor Snape, breaking of several house rules at the same time, and less-than-perfect test papers - it was being left out of something.
Well. This certainly could not be allowed to pass without reproach. And so, carefully keeping out of sight, she leaned against the wall, watching them intently.
Being an intelligent girl, as well as knowing both of these young men rather well, it was immediately obvious to her that storming straight over and demanding to know what was going on would serve only to fire up Ron's temper - they had, after all, been rather at outs with one another this week, she reflected with a tiny sigh of regret - and would prompt an immediate response of, "None of your business!"
Better, therefore, to wait until Ron had left, and she could pick out of Harry what they had been talking about. A nice fellow, he was, and a good friend, but a real pushover.
It wasn't long to wait. After a few moments, Ron bid Harry goodbye with a casual wave, and started out of the common room, making a rather ridiculous show of not noticing her as he passed, although his ears did grow slightly pink.
Shaking her head, she started toward the corner of the room.
"So, Harry, what were you and Ron talking about?" she inquired, seating herself carefully in a large, cushioned wing chair next to his. Hermione, it seemed, did not waste time with subtlety.
"Hello to you too, Hermione," the dark-haired youth grinned.
"Yes, yes, hello and all that. Now, what were you talking about?"
"Well...er...ehm...that is, we...er..."
She tapped her foot impatiently. This sudden display of stuttering, as well as the way he had gone suddenly very red served only to fuel her curiosity.
"Oh, come now, spit it out!"
"Well...we were discussing a...a new spell!"
"Is that all?" she scoffed, somewhat disappointed. "Well, which one?"
"I...I don't think you'll know it," he choked.
"How absurd! Of course I will!"
"No, no, I really doubt you'll have learned this one yet."
She raised a sceptical eyebrow.
"That's ridiculous. If you and Ron are discussing it, I must've!"
"This...this is one that boys tend to learn about before girls."
"Piffle! What's it called?"
"It's...it's called 'A-OO-gah.'"
Hermione blinked. What an odd name...
"The A-oo-gah?" she repeated blankly. "Never heard of it! Why, I believe you've just made it up on the spot!"
"No, no, it's been around for a very long time. As long as there have been people, I think," the dark-haired boy assured her, gazing miserably at the floor. How, oh how, had he contrived to become entrapped in this conversation? Why, oh why, couldn't Ron choose this moment to come back and rescue him?
"Well, alright, then, what does this a-oo-gah of yours do?"
"It...it's hard to explain."
"Very well," she said impatiently. "Can you do it?"
"W-well, I probably COULD..."
"Then show me!"
Harry's eyes bugged out and he tugged at the uncomfortably tight collar of his robes.
"Er...that's a bad idea. This is hardly the place. And anyway, we're almost certain to get in trouble for it."
Well! Now, THIS sounded interesting, Hermione reflected.
"Come now, Harry, you've GOT to show me this spell! I don't know how it is that I don't know it yet, and I suppose I could ask one of the teachers just as easily, but-"
"Oh, don't do that!" he nearly yelped. "Really, it's not the sort of spell that the teachers will want to talk about.
"Harry," she began sternly. "Have you and Ron been casting a forbidden spell in your dormitory?"
"No!" he exclaimed, blushing more brightly than ever.
"Somehow, I don't believe you."
"Really, we haven't!"
"Then you're planning on it."
"No! We aren't! We really, really aren't! You've no idea how much we aren't!"
"Why? Is it a dangerous spell?"
"Well...it can be if the proper...precautions aren't taken..."
"What sort of precautions?"
"Er...there's a...er...something like a...really, Hermione, do we have to talk about this?"
"No, I suppose not," she sighed. "Maybe I can get Ron to tell me...once he's speaking to me again..."
Harry jumped on this suggestion immediately, most grateful that she had inadvertently let him off the hook.
"Yes, yes, that's a good idea! Go talk to Ron. I seem to remember him mentioning that he'd like to show you."
"Oh! Wonderful! But...he's still angry about the whole mustard incident - even though he was the one who threw the dish across the table and hit ME..." she trailed off, crossing her arms resentfully.
In truth, Ron had been aiming for Draco Malfoy, who had chanced at that moment to happen past with his lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, and had muttered several rather nasty things about Ron, Harry, and Hermione, finishing up with one particularly off-colour remark about Ron's family that had prompted the flying mustard pot. Unfortunately, when one is seeing red, as Ron undoubtedly was by this point, it is rather difficult to maintain perfect aim. As such, the mustard pot had fallen short of Malfoy, and had instead bounced off of the table and splattered their contents all over Hermione, who had been sitting directly in front of where Draco was standing at the time that the mustard pot had become airborne.
In her own mind, Hermione KNEW this - it had simply been a little hard on the patience to find herself liberally splattered with mustard, with no word of apology from the offender, whether or not she had been the intended target. Of course, she had sharply demanded an apology, and Ron, temper already stoked into a full blaze by Draco and his decided Draco-ness, had shot back that she should lighten up. And of course, no girl wearing the contents of a mustard pot all over her robes, face, and hair enjoys being told to lighten up.
From here, the argument had escalated.
Harry knew from his own experience with both Ron and Hermione that neither was likely still harbouring a grudge toward the other, now that tempers had cooled. Instead, they were probably both feeling quite sheepish, and quite miserable.
And he was really, REALLY beginning to get embarrassed by the turn this conversation had taken.
"If you tell him you want to try A-OO-gah, he'll speak to you in a shot."
She frowned.
"Why's that?"
"Er...it's...it's a lot of fun."
"Oh, have you tried it?"
"No," he hastened to reply, blushing brightly again. "That's just what I've heard."
Hermione stood up, shaking her head.
"You're acting awfully strangely."
"Oh...am I?"
"Incredibly. Anyway, do you happen to know where Ron went off to?"
"Er, the library, I think."
"Ron, in the library? How very novel. Oh, well. Maybe I can ask him to show me this A-oo-gah of yours there."
"No, I wouldn't suggest that. Really, it's much more suited to a...more private place."
"I'm sure he'll be able to come up with something."
"If an A-OO-gah's at stake, I wouldn't doubt it..."
Peering strangely at him, Hermione turned to leave.
"Aren't you going to come along and watch?"
"I-I'd really rather not...I'm not into that sort of thing."
"Into...that...oh, never mind. Well, I'll see you later, then?"
"Right," Harry agreed, waving goodbye as she started from the common room. Once she had gone, he finally gave into the gales of laughter that had been threatening to overtake him amidst his painful blushes this entire conversation through. "Heaven help poor Ron if she ever figures out exactly WHAT we were talking about..."
As it turned out, though, poor Ron needed little help from said heavens, as, once he finally managed to make Hermione understand what exactly A-OO- gah was, she was not angry, but quite in favour of trying it out then and there.
In fact, Ron's biggest problem at that point was how to get the two of them to a secluded supply closet and get the door locked before the garments started flying.
Needless to say, all animosity between the two was completely forgotten.
A-OOOOOOOOO-gah, indeed!
End Notes: Hee! I am SO sorry for this! I just couldn't resist! Just a bit of fun insanity. ^_^ Also, quite lacking in characterization. It was amusing, though. And short, if nothing else.