by Ford Prefect
Chapter 2: Lessons in Love
Ron had suspected, but he had hoped that his gut feeling was wrong: Trying to teach Neville how to get a girl to like him was like trying to teach Neville how to master his potions lessons. Everything was all mixed-up, and the situation had the very distinct possibility of blowing up in both their faces.
They had plenty of time to practice and talk, much to Ron's relief. Now that Quidditch was starting up again, Harry was often gone at practices, especially now that he was helping out more with team strategy. And having Hermione out of the way was easy. Whenever the students had free time she would be off studying for the O.W.L.s. These days she practically lived in the library. Ron thought it was a little bit of a nesting thing that girls did (his mum was like that sometimes), but he thought it was mostly her. She had been tetchy as of late too. He thought it was probably all the prattling she had to hear Parvati and Lavender go on and on about, especially now with the ball coming up. Hell, if all he did was study for fun, and then had to put up with that chatter all night long, he'd go absolutely barking as well. So he had forgiven her for snapping at him the other day when he had offered to tear up a couple of books ("Hogwarts: A History?" he had suggested) to make her a bed in the library in a corner over by the Divination section of the library stacks.
Hermione had been nagging at him for weeks to join her in studying for the O.W.L.s, but he had made quite clear his feelings on that matter. However, she hadn't given up. Day after day, a bloke couldn't even eat a quiet dinner without her going on and on about how important the O.W.L.s were for their future, blah, blah, blah. Eventually he had broken down just so she'd quit nagging him and give him a little peace, and agreed to one extra study section a week.
Their study sessions in the library were providing good research though, Ron rationalized. Whenever Hermione studied or did her homework (which seemed like most of the time), she was in another world entirely. It was fascinating to watch her sometimes though. She was as intense about studying as Harry was when he played Quidditch, and when he himself played chess.
He had seen her concentration break a few times, though. Just a week ago, a third-year Ravenclaw boy had knocked against her chair and she had been a hair's-breadth away from hexing him. Then, during one of their study sessions together, Ron's knee had bumped against hers and she had slapped it away. She had also let out a startled squeak, dropped her Artithmancy textbook, and turned bright pink from all the embarrassment. Hermione was definitely off her nut lately. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she was going crazy, and it was only mid-September. Ron was a bit worried: There was still a whole year of crazy for her left.
Thinking back on the moment, she had never apologized for hitting him. Ron couldn't help it that he was growing into a strapping young lad. But of course, he could never tell with her anymore these days. One minute she was getting all weepy on him, throwing her arms around him and being a complete girl, then she was running about slapping around Malfoy, which was a side of Hermione Ron wouldn't mind seeing more of. But it didn't help that she liked to hang around unsavory characters like that Viktor Krum. Absolutely barking, that one, he thought.
After much secretive discussion over the past week, Ron decided it was time to give Neville some practice. They found an empty classroom where they could talk more freely. Ron had told Professor Trewlawny that they needed somewhere more private where they could focus their auras and find their inner eyes, and she had given him a dreamy look and then permission.
"Okay, Neville. Lesson one."
Neville pulled out a quill and a roll of parchment that unfurled, bounced on the floor, then rolled for a few feet until it thudded to a stop as it hit a desk.
Ron sighed, then continued on. "First things first, Neville. Girls are not like normal people."
Neville quickly scribbled this down quickly, then looked up expectantly for the next part.
"For example, look at Parvati and Lavender. Not. Normal. They may seem like it sometimes, but then they go do something funny and then run off to go braid their hair or something mad like that." Ron paced the room, gesturing at the appropriate moments as Neville continued to write furiously. "I mean, some of them don't even like Quidditch. I mean c'mon, what is that? I just don't understand girls sometimes."
Neville looked up, startled. Ron, quickly realized his slip and corrected himself.
"I don't understand some girls sometimes, but Hermione, I do. Don't worry about it, mate."
Looking more confident now, Neville leaned forward, hanging on Ron's every word. Ron puffed up a little proudly at this. He thought maybe he'd have to look into becoming a professor or something like that if this worked out well with Neville.
"Now," Ron said pressing on, "while girls are different, Hermione is different from them. She's not your typical girl, if you haven't noticed. Though I think you have."
Ron paused and ran a hand through his hair. It was getting very mussed up lately, and it was starting to rival Harry's hair for unruliness. Ron had even spotted Ginny eyeing him, looking suspiciously like she wanted to comb him.
Neville raised his hand.
"Ron. What can I do to make her," here he blushed a little bit, biting his lip, "well, what can I do to make her you know, notice me more, but in a good way? I mean, besides asking her to help me with potions homework." Neville turned a little more pink in the cheeks. To put up with this much embarrassment, Ron thought, Neville must really, really fancy Hermione.
Ron sat down in a chair by the blackboard to think. Distractedly, he ran his hand across the board, his fingers becoming streaked with chalk dust. He tried to think of what he usually did when she'd start hovering around him, annoying him. Then he got it.
Ron snapped up in his seat. "I got it, Neville. Easy stuff." Ron was so pleased with himself for thinking of the idea that he almost forgot to say what it was.
"Ron?"
"Oh, right. Like I said easy. Just don't do your homework."
Neville stared, unsure whether or not he should be getting it or not.
Ron hopped off his chair and walked over to where Neville was sitting.
"Trust me, mate. Whenever I'm not doing my homework she's always right there going on and on about how 'it is soooo important for me to do my homework,' and how 'what if you don't pass your exams?' and 'What will Professor McGonnagall think? And your mum!' What a nutter. Honestly, she's going to snap one day and we all better hope we remember how to disarm her."
"How is that supposed to maker her notice me in a good way though, Ron?"
"Well, uh. Well maybe that's how you get her to come over in the first place, and when you're being all rebellious (girls love that—even Hermione, I reckon) she'll come over and you can do your thing."
"What do I say," Neville spluttered, "when she does come over?" He looked very serious. "What if she yells at me? What do I say to charm her?"
"Well . . ." Ron tried to imagine Neville charming Hermione, and in doing so he almost snorted out loud. She's probably hex him if he tried.
"Ron?"
"Oh. Sorry there. Let me think."
Ron didn't imagine that complimenting her on her hair was going to work. It had been ages since she had done that funny stuff to her hair that had made it all smooth and pretty and weird. Also, Hermione wasn't Lavender or Parvati. And while telling her how smart she was wouldn't hurt, Neville did that almost every time he asked for homework help, and if he did it again it was likely that she wouldn't even bat an eyelash. Besides, it wasn't like she needed to hear how bloody brilliant she was. It was enough that she was smart and that she also knew it. Ron didn't know if he could bear being around her if she was even more of a know-it-all than usual.
The idea at last popped into his head, and Ron almost hit himself in the forehead, it was so obvious. "Make her laugh, Neville," he said. "She's always so serious, and if you can make her laugh she'll be just that much better for it. She'll definitely notice you then. Don't worry if she calls you a prat or something. She's always nagging me when I annoy her and make her laugh and put her off her studies, but I see her smiling to herself when she thinks nobody's looking." Ron grinned.
"What if I'm not funny, Ron?" Neville had put down the quill and now stared moodily out the window. Ron saw a giant tentacle swing out from lake and splash down again, disappearing below the surface. He walked over to where Neville sat and put a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Then we will have to do something about that."
***
Luring Hermione out of the library and back into the common room was harder than Ron had thought. She had huffed and puffed, and complained that if she went to the common room he would only harass her the whole time and try to get her to stop studying and bully her into playing chess or something, and that would be entirely the opposite of what she wanted to do.
"Hermiiiione!" he had whined, bending down on both knees, hands pressed together and begging with as much flourish as possible (Fred and George would have been proud of their little brother). "I never see you anymore, and when I do your head is always buried in a book. And then it's just all hair." He made a poofing motion around his head to illustrate. She tried to give him her most severe frown, but failed miserably. "At least come back to the common room where you can study and we can actually see you. Harry misses you too, and how are we supposed to stay out of trouble if you're around to nag us and tell us how many ways we could get expelled?"
Ron got back up to his feet and brushed his dress robes with a prissy swat here, and a prissy swat there. "For all you know, Harry and I could have gotten into loads of trouble so far, and it's only the beginning of term." He sniffed.
"You are such a prat, Ronald Weasley!"
He tutted at her for using such language, and after that they launched into a bit of a shouting match. As it happened, Miss Pince threatened to throw them out of the library for disturbing the other students, and only after Ron had grabbed Hermione's bag of books and made a mad dashed back to the Gryffindor common room through the torch-lit corridors, did he manage to get her where he wanted her to be.
He was panting hard (he wondered how she wasn't crippled from the sheer weight of the books she carried around with her) and laughing into his sleeve on the couch when Hermione finally caught up with him, looking ferociously angry. She was towering over him staring daggers when he looked up. Ron shot her his most beatific smile and shoved the books over so she could have a seat next to him.
"You look tired, Hermione. What's up?"
"Oooh! Ron!"
Ron looked past her shoulder to see if Neville was positioned as they had planned. He saw Neville watching them with rapt attention near the desk by the fireplace, and distinctly caught him mouthing the word, "Brilliant." Ron felt his cheeks glow with pride. Now if only the next part would not fail as painfully and horribly as he had imagined it to over the last few sleepless nights.
He coughed nervously into his fist, Hermione still glowering at him, and launched immediately into part two of the plan.
"Oi! Neville mate. You're not studying now, are you?"
Neville jumped at Ron's voice and looked around the room, a panicked expression on his face. Ron felt his muscles tense, but Neville proved to be of tougher stuff.
"Homework?" Neville made a disdainful noise. "I'm done with doing homework! Who needs it? I'd rather, uh . . ." He froze for a moment, and looked desperately at Ron who for a second blanked. What was it that Neville liked to do? He just hoped Neville knew how to read lips because Ron hadn't launched into part three of the plan yet. At last, Ron mouthed the first thing that came to his mind.
"I'd rather play cribbage," Neville said defiantly. Hermione looked at Neville, confused.
Ron smacked his hand against his forehead.
"Quidditch!" Neville corrected. "I'd rather be playing quidditch."
"That's right, mate," Ron mumbled with relief.
That could have gone a lot more smoothly, Ron thought, making a mental note to himself. But he soon forgot that. He had to see how Hermione reacted.
She didn't disappoint. A low, irritated growl came from her mouth. She spun on him. "Goodness!" she cried.
"What'd I do?" Ron said, standing up to face her.
She stuttered, her cheeks turning pink. From his height, he could even see the blush spreading to her temples by the little tufts of hair that were more reddish than brown. "Honestly!" she finally managed, "you're rubbing off on everyone now, Ron!" She turned around and started towards the fireplace. "Neville. You can't listen to Ron. He's a bad influence. Here . . ."
Ron smiled. Really, she was just too easy. Now if only the next step would go well. He didn't want to imagine the wealth of curses Hermione had at her disposal if she found out what they playing at.
[End Chapter 2]