"Ron, Hermione, and the Idiotic Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher Who Thinks the Students In Hogwarts Can Act" by Quidditch, Anyone? (C'mon... this title HAS to be better than the previous one, does it not? Thanks, tigris... hee hee.)


Mmm Mmm Good


The winter months came quickly. The normally peaceful Common Room buzzed with the racket of notorious young actors who were constantly practicing. Surprisingly, this turned out to be an annoyance to nobody due to the Weasley twins' much appreciate earmuffs. The only pupil who had anything negative to say was (interestingly enough) Hermione.


"Ron, pass me the- the- the..." her sentence was lost in a very loud sneeze. A small pile of notes scattered from the force.


"Tissues," she sniffed.


He cringed and handed her the deep purple box with an expression similar to that if he had been asked to clean out a mile of cow barns. Still, being the loving and sweet boy he was, asked if she was okay.


"Urgh. It's all DeMarlo's fault. If he hadn't asked me to keep off those Yetiettes in the snowstorm, I would be fine."


"Yeah, you'd think being our teacher, he'd know how to handle them without having to consult a fifth-year," Harry voiced.


"Well, he is from Hollywood," Ron said. "And their brain cells diminish faster than their marriages."


"Too true," Hermione blew her nose.


"Just don't get too close to the thespians... they'll kill you if you get them sick before opening night," Harry smirked. Ron took note of this and tried to discreetly inch away from her. But being Rangy, Redhead Ron, he was a little hard to miss.


The group continued to work with a general simmering chatter with sudden injections of "Ah-CHOOS!" now and then. It wasn't until Hermione's nose was Weasley red and the pile of tissues grew larger than her books when her friends told her to go to the hospital wing.


"S'for your own good, Hermione," Ron reassured her.


"Right, you just don't want to catch what I have! You're so shallow!" she snuffed at him.


"Of course I don't want you to get me sick! What, am I supposed to say, 'Please, Hermione, may you be so kind as to share your bacterial microbes with us'?"


She turned redder and left.


"Really, Harry, sometimes I just want to kill her!" he peeved his friend.


"Oh, give us a break, Ron, you know you'd rather snog her than anything!"


The two boys turned to face the flashy team beaters, who had just appeared from being a red couch.


"Fred! George! I... she... who asked you?" Ron stammered.


"Didn't need to," Fred grinned as he took Hermione's chair. "I think your reaction to her bright pink knickers provoked enough evidence to clear everything up we've suspected about you."


Their juvenile brother's eyes expanded. "How'd you know about that?" For obvious reasons (like having girlfriends, not girl-frieeends! and manly curves, not manicures), Forge did not participate in this so-called play, so they didn't witness anything first-hand.


"Word travels," George said matter-of-factly.


"You honestly think a piece of gossip that good is going to be left untouched?"


"Well, I... but it's not true!" Ron finished hurriedly.


Fred and George laughed. "Right, brother, right." George gave a very superior pat on Ron's shoulder. His face was contorted with embarrassment and frustration at the three boys laughing at him.


"What do you want, anyway?" he questioned.


They stopped laughing rather quickly. Trying to look beyond suspicion, Fred casually said, "Oh, right... we need Pig."


"What do you want him for?"


"Just an errand... nothing major," George answered without expression.


"What is it?" Ron asked with narrowed eyes.


"Geez, bugger off, Ron! Can't we just use your ruddy owl?"


"Fine. If you stop spreading rumors about me."


"Us? Spread rumors? Why, we're crushed!" Fred faked being offended.


"Plus, we don't need too- you're as open as a book, Ron!"


Before another insult could be rebounded, the twins scurried off. Ron grumble lowly.


·~··~··~·


Few days passed and Hermione's cold seemed to be expiring. Luckily none of the future Broadway stars had contracted it either, which made DeMarlo "More than pleased with their good fortune". However, opening night was getting closer and closer, so practices were being held more often than ever. After a particularly long one, Ron and Hermione walked back by themselves.


She was laughing at something Ron had said, but he couldn't remember what; he was too busy noticing how nice her teeth were now. All straight and white and lovely and...


Don't make it obvious don't make it obvious don't make it obvious don't make it obvious


If it was plain enough for his sluggishly sad excuses for brothers to notice, then who else might think that he fancied Hermione? He can't let his guard down- just pretend he doesn't like her and no one else will think he will.


But look at her! No, stop it! Look down, or at... anything else! Just not her.


"So, er... Herbology's getting a bit tougher, isn't it?" he said awkwardly.


Hermione sighed. "Well, it wouldn't be if you did your work, now, would it?" She licked her lips while he responded.


"I didn't ask for a lecture! I just said it's awfully disheartening when Neville Longbottom's doing better in a class than you are."


She laughed again. It echoed off the corridors and rang in silence for a minute.


"You know, maybe I should have been in this play," she blushed. Wetting her lips again, she continued, "Seeing you up there, it looks like so much fun!"


"Yeah, it would have been, to have you in it and all," he lied. Not that he didn't want her to be in the musical, but part of him sort of wanted her to take that other dare they had made a long time ago. Ron cleared his throat and tried to change the subject, but couldn't help concentrating on her face. "Say, why d'you keep doing that?"


"Doing what?"


"Licking your lips like that."


She did it again and made a slightly discouraged face. "I don't really know. They... taste odd, or something."


"Really? Hmm-"


Before she could remember her first name, Ron Weasley had leaned over and kissed her smack-dab on the lips. Stunned shaking unbelieving what was this- he was kissing her! Why was he doing this? What was she supposed to do? Should she pull away? What if someone's watching...?


It's amazing all these thoughts could cross her mind in the mere second it all took place. Well, she is Hermione- her brain was used to working in triple-speed.


"Mmm. Yeah, that's funny," he commented as if he did it everyday.


Hermione stood stick straight at first, but reminded herself to act normal. Maybe friends do that after they've known each other long enough. Just play it cool.


Wait! She couldn't play it cool! She just remembered-


"Oh, right, now I remember why they tasted strange..." she told Ron slowly. She faced him and couldn't think of a look or tone to fit the occasion, so remained totally neutral.


"It was a special lip balm Madame Pomfrey had given me a while ago in the hospital wing," she started. Ron's face rose in color in fear of what was coming next.


"I had more than a cold. I had Lippe Kranken- a contagious kissing sickness."


Whoops.





Yay! For once, a long chapter. And finally something is- oh my God- 'happening' in one of my stories! What's wrong with me? Maybe I have lippa kranken, which I think means 'lip' and 'sick' in German. I don't know, because I don't speak it, just steal words from my Wöterbuch. Anyway, enough talking- I have to go write more while I'm on a roll.