Kiss the Girl
Chapter 11
Detention and Dilemmas
~*~
Author's Note: Sorry for my little lie here, guys. It turned out that right after exams I had a twenty-page research paper, and then I promptly became ill after handing it in. All in all, it's been a busy month. I'm making it up to you, though. This chapter is what you've all been waiting for, not to mention nine pages long. Due to the length, I didn't even get around putting in my response to your reviews. Know this, though: I loved each and every one of them and thank all that gave their time to do so. I can only hope you continue.
It has also come to my attention that fanfiction.net will be down on the fifteenth and sixteenth, and I probably should have just held off on this update. However, I'll be shopping in Boston (for a college, that is) and won't have another chance for at least a week and a half.
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Disclaimer: I never knew just how hard it was to be witty. When I was a youngin', every chapter had some wonderful disclaimer, and now, I've got nothing. Zip. Zero. Nothing.
Either way, I don't own Harry Potter, but if I did, book five probably wouldn't be the size of a dictionary.
***
A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.
-Ingrid Bergman
***
Severus Snape surveyed the group before him with a disgusted look upon his face, as if he was doing all in his capability to hold back some particularly nasty vial that was rising in his throat. It just so happened that it was the class he hated most, the fifth year Gryffindors, along with the slightly less despised Slytherins. It didn't help the fact that it was Friday, and all the little kiddies were more hyper-active than usual, brimming with energy they'd been storing up for the weekend, none of which they'd used to help their pathetic Potions' grades. And Severus was well aware of just how pathetic each grade was, he'd bestowed each mark upon them himself.
Even the Slytherins were getting on his nerves, and the only thing that kept him from taking off points was the fact that Lord Voldemort would become suspicious if he didn't play the part of his standard biased self. "I suppose you've all failed yet again, but what else is new. Except maybe for Mr. Malfoy here," Snape allowed himself to give an approving nod to the teenager before him, all the while fighting back the urge to roll his eyes at the silver-haired boy's smirk. Little did Draco know the only reason his favorite professor showed him such benevolence was because his father was the link that kept the Dark Lord from investigating Snape's rather treacherous activities. Voldemort didn't take kindly to spies, but as long as Luscious was feeding him tales of Snape's favor towards the Slytherins, and hatred towards Harry Potter, his attention remained diverted.
It wasn't at all hard to feign hate for Harry Potter, and it was an additional bonus because his cruelty (albeit rather deserved cruelty) towards the boy was something the Slytherins loved to see. It was with the fire of a thousand suns that Snape loathed the little bugger. If Dumbledore hadn't taken such a liking to the piece of pond scum, the professor would have put together an "accident" that would have left the Gryffindor with only seven fingers long ago. If dreams were reality, Harry would be one very disfigured fifteen-year-old.
"Hey, Potter, I see it didn't work out between your friends, but then, perhaps I can see why now." Snape had only just turned his back when Malfoy spat the comment, and he continued on towards his desk, pretending not to have heard. He missed the blush that rose instantly to Hermione's cheeks, and the renewed concentration Ron took towards his potion.
"Blushing, Granger? I never saw you as the type. Of course, the situation must have been difficult for you." Draco paused and stared at his fingernails, examining them for any imperfections. "Although, maybe I understand the reasoning behind your inability to be one-half of a couple with the Weasel." Ron looked up from the ingredients he'd been slicing, a venomous gleam in his eyes.
"And why is that, Draco?" Pansy Parkinson called from her workstation. Draco laughed and leaned over to stir his cauldron.
"Well, perhaps Weasley here just came to his senses and realized that even though he's little better than one himself, he doesn't want to be seen dating a Mudblood like Granger. Especially one so ugly looking." Though Hermione had traces of tears in her eyes, she held on to Harry's arm, effectively stopping him from murdering Malfoy. However, due to her occupation with one friend, she missed the objective of the other.
Draco didn't even have time to blink before Ron crossed the room and took a stance in front of him. Snape, who had gone into his supply closet to gather a potion that he needed for his next class, remained blissfully unaware of the situation that was going on in his classroom.
"Yes, Weasley, did you want to comment?" Draco seemed a little nervous, noticing that Ron was staring at him with quite a bit of rage. Harry felt Hermione's grip go limp around his arm, and started to walk towards Ron, wondering if Malfoy's aggression was coming from the fact that it seemed he would never get to use any of the insults he'd bragged about so extensively.
However, Harry wasn't fast enough, and was only in time to hear the words Ron was speaking with such menace. The redhead was fuming, and Harry was worried he was about to put a felony into action. "Don't you ever talk about her like that again," Ron growled to Malfoy. "She's ten times better than you and your family, and you don't even deserve to say her name." Draco's face took on a twisted appearance, and Crabbe and Goyle clenched their fists, ready to pounce at their friend's command.
With reserve that Harry didn't even know Ron to possess, the taller boy turned and started walking back to the table he shared with his two friends. "Come on, Harry," he called back. Harry couldn't resist the grin he allowed himself, and before he too started to go back to his place, he tipped his head towards Malfoy.
"Before your time is through here, Potter, I'll have made you and your friend's very sorry. The Mudblood. The Weasel. You." Even his fellow Slytherins were taken aback by the threat, and Lavender and Parvati were even considering going for help.
In a flash, Ron was hovering over Malfoy, and his fist was flying towards the Slytherin's face. When he made contact, there was a sickening crunch, and then Draco fell to the floor in a heap. Crabbe and Goyle advanced, but not before Harry could draw his wand, along with his seven other housemates.
Before pandemonium could take hold, Snape reentered the room in a flourish, his black robes billowing behind him in a way that must have taken years of practice. His face was livid, and not one person in the classroom moved.
When Snape spoke, his voice was very low, and Hermione fearfully noted the white-knuckled grip he had on his wand. "What, may I ask, is going on here?" The bell rang in the background, but nobody went to leave, which was a very good thing, as Snape would have hexed anybody who had tried.
"It was Weasley, Professor, he attacked me!" Draco finally said, his voice very nasally, as if his nose were broken (which it was.)
"Did he now?" Snape cast his glare upon Ron, before looking at Harry and Hermione. "I suppose he was aided by his little friends."
"Professor, Malfoy was saying things that no decent human being should say to another." It was Parvati, surprisingly enough, who came to her classmates' defense. It was not because she was the only one unafraid (she was petrified, in the sense that, though she wasn't akin to of a piece of rock, she was afraid), but the only one who trusted herself to speak without allowing a stream of dirty words to go flying towards Malfoy.
"Thank you, Miss Patil, for your totally unnecessary outburst. I've made my decision. Fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor, and Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger will be serving detention tonight with Mr. Filch. You all shall clean up this mess, then you are dismissed. Mr. Malfoy, I suggest you go see Madame Pomfrey." Snape left the room, and very slowly the students started to shuffle out.
Seamus Finnegan came and patted Ron on the back, "Good show, old boy, wish I could have done the same. Don't worry about the points, we'll spread the word about how it wasn't your fault." Ron nodded, then walked over to Harry and Hermione.
"Ron—" Hermione tried to go on but Ron held up his hand.
"I know, Hermione, I shouldn't have hit the slime ball." Ron gathered up his books, gave Hermione a wistful look, and then left the room.
"Well, this is nothing short of a mess." Harry handed Hermione her books and started to lead them out the room. "But still, I wouldn't be too hard on him. He really hates it when people make fun of you, Hermione. I mean, so do I, but I deal with it differently."
"What makes you think I was going to be hard on him?" Hermione screeched, causing Harry to sigh.
"No reason, Hermione."
"I wasn't."
"I believe you."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"Harry!"
"Hermione!"
"Don't you make fun of me while I'm yelling at you, Harry James Potter!"
"Hermione…"
The two continued on in this manner all the way back to the tower, where they found Ron sitting on the couch, staring out into space. When he saw Harry and Hermione he got up and walked over to them, an apology on his lips. However, before he could finish, Hermione interrupted. "Ron," she began, "I'm not going to be hard on you, I know you know what you did was wrong." With that, Hermione turned on her heals and retreated back to her room.
"I guess she's still mad at me," mumbled Ron, who sank back into the couch.
Harry plopped down beside him. "What on Earth do you mean? She didn't yell at you."
"Ever since Hogsmeade she's been like this, either ignoring me or just being different. See, if she wasn't mad at me, she'd have been yelling at the top of her bloody lungs."
"But if she was yelling at you, she'd be angry at you." Harry was growing increasingly exasperated.
"Harry, it doesn't work that way." Ron shook his head.
"Merlin, help me." Harry let his head hit the cushion as he closed his eyes. He felt a terrible headache coming on, and he was afraid that by being alive it would get worse. With his luck, it would probably explode by detention that evening.
"I'm going to send an owl to Bill, Harry. I'll see you later."
"Yes, well, mind you bring an Unforgivable with you when you do."
Ron stopped from his track to the exit. "What?"
"Never mind. I think I just need some sleep."
"Sounds good, mate. You've been acting stressed lately."
Harry turned his head at an odd angle so he could look Ron in the eye. "Go send your letter, Ron. I beg of you."
"Well, I guess it doesn't take much to show a guy who is real friends are." In a huff, Ron left.
Harry sat for a moment, wondering whether to laugh or cry. Crying probably wouldn't do much for his image, thanks to the articles written by Rita Skeeter the past year. Laughing, it seemed, wouldn't do much good either, as it would add to Fudge's belief he was off his broomstick.
He settled for sitting in the peace and quiet, musing only half-heartedly what it would take to make his best friends realize they were crazy for each other. Not to mention just plain old crazy.
***
"Who in the world ever decided upon a 'Midnight Detention, who? Aren't we all supposed to be tucked up in our beds, our brains being nurtured by that thing called sleep?"
"We realize you're tired, Ron. Just shut up and walk." Harry, who was in now mood to be pleasant, yawned and walked up to the door of Filch's office. It was lucky he didn't knock immediately, for as soon as he raised his hand Filch was revealed, a very irritated looking Filch.
"Late. Always late. You wouldn't a been late if you were hangin' from your toes in the dungeon."
Ron, Hermione, and Harry all looked at each other warily, and then back at Filch. "I suppose it wouldn't help if I said we were sorry?" tried Hermione.
"No, now follow me." With that, the foursome set off, nobody saying a word. After five minutes or so, they reached the dungeons, which were even more dank and dreary than they usually were. A long corridor led them to none other than Snape's classroom, though Snape was nowhere in sight. Filch didn't notice as all three students let out large sighs of relief. "You two!" Filch pointed at Ron and Hermione. "Hand over your wands, you'll get 'em back when you're done. Potter, the headmaster wants a word."
"What do you want us to do?" asked Hermione after she'd given Filch her wand.
A sinister grin crossed the old man's face. "Why, didn't I mention that? I want you to scrub this floor until it shines like glass. And remember, I've got your wands."
Hermione didn't think the punishment sounded too bad until she looked down. A groan escaped her as she realized that the floor here had probably never been cleaned before, judging by the amount of dirt that covered her. But on the second hand…
"It didn't look this dirty during class today," Ron mused aloud.
"Yes, I heard Professor Snape mention that. Seems he magicked all the dirt off the ceiling an' this is where it landed. Pity." He smiled again. "Well, have fun." He and Harry left then, leaving Ron and Hermione with their two sponges, rags, and bucket of soapy water.
Filch dropped Harry off at the door to the Headmaster's office, cackling about Harry's expulsion. Harry found this rather unbelievable, however, as he hadn't really done anything. It had been Ron who threw the punch at Malfoy, and while he would have gladly done the same, he really hadn't broken a school rule in weeks. Or was it days? Harry would have to think on that.
"Come in, Harry." Dumbledore's voice broke Harry out of his reverie. Without hesitating, he swung open the door and met the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore.
"Hello, Professor."
Dumbledore glanced at the clocks that were lined up next to each other on the far wall. On one the little hand was on the twelve, and the larger one on the five. The other clock was more interesting, reading: Waaaay past your bedtime, so go to bed like a sensible person. "Good Morning," he said when he looked back.
"In light of recent events, I thought it best to leave Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger to their own devices while I told you something much less enjoyable…at least, you may think it is." Dumbledore's voice was grave, but his eyes hadn't lost of their beloved twinkle.
"It is almost Spring, Professor, it was almost strange, not having a disaster to face."
Dumbledore laughed, "Sit down, Harry, and cheer up. This will only be a disaster if we let it. Sit down, and I will tell you everything."
The conversation lasted for over an hour, and when Harry left the office, he was more than a little shell-shocked. The Order of the Phoenix…that was what Dumbledore had called it. The other things though, they too lingered in his memories. He'd been given a choice: relay the conversation he'd just taken part in to Ron and Hermione later that night, or let it rest on him a while. Dumbledore had given him a week to decided on his decision. Harry chose the latter and started walking back towards the Gryffindor Common Room, ready to stay up waiting for Ron and Hermione. He'd been given immunity to come and go as he pleased that night, but he didn't really plan on making use of the gift bestowed by the aged professor.
When he stepped into Gryffindor Tower Harry found himself confronted by none other than Ginny Weasley. She was immediately at his side, looking for traces of emotion on his face.
"Ginny, what are you doing?" Harry asked.
"Where were you all tonight? Detention doesn't last until two in the bloody morning!" Harry blushed sheepishly, he should have known that a late arrival would equal worry from anybody who knew of the situation that he usually participated in during the middle of the night—which was just about everybody. The fact that Ginny had stayed up waiting for them was what made guilt invade his senses, however. She, most of all, knew what things went creep in the night.
"Actually, I ended up talking to Professor Dumbledore. Ron and Hermione should still be cleaning the dungeon floor."
Ginny looked Harry up and down before nodding. Harry recognized the fact that she wasn't going to press him about his meeting with the headmaster, and was very thankful for it. Truthfully, he had nothing to say.
"Well, let's go see what your friends are up too, shall we?" Ginny held up an Invisibility Cloak that looked suspiciously like Harry's.
"They're your friends as well, you know," Harry began. Then, recognizing his cloak, raised an eyebrow.
"Ron gave me permission to use it case of emergencies. If you weren't back by three, I was going to go get Dumbledore, and I didn't want to be caught by Filch on my way."
Harry smiled, "That was very kind of Ron, truly. Next time he'll lend you my Firebolt as well, I'm sure."
Ginny laughed in response, "No, Ron's not that generous."
"Very true. Now, let's go."
***
When Harry and Ginny reached the dungeon, they heard a distinct bickering emitting from down the hall. Harry grimaced and made a hand gesture towards the door, and Ginny rolled her eyes.
"At least now we know why they haven't finished," Ginny whispered. Her breath tickled Harry's cheek, who had just joined her under the cloak, in order to get a closer look at Ron and Hermione's actions.
"Do you feel bad that we're spying on them again?" Harry said, making sure to keep his voice down. He didn't notice Ginny shiver, in spite of her close proximity with his body. Finally, she regained speech.
"Not at all, Mr. Bond, not at all." With that, the two moved in for a closer look.
***
"You're scrubbing it incorrectly!" Hermione grabbed the rag Ron was holding out of his hand. "It's a left to right circle, not just back and forth. Watch." She started to work the grime out of the stones below her. To Ron's chagrin, her way was quite a bit more effective than her own.
"Well, I guess you can give up that dream of becoming the Minister of Magic. Now you can answer your true calling: scrubbing floors for a living." Hermione gave Ron what he had dubbed: "The-really-phsyco-look-that-means-she's-going-to-butcher-me-with-a-cleaver" look.
He gulped.
"Start scrubbing, Ronald."
"Start scrubbing, Ronald." Ron's impersonation of Hermione was awarded when Hermione threw the rag back at Ron, giving a satisfied grin as it landed on his head, sending trickles of dirty water down his face and neck. Ron just glowered at her, which Hermione found only at tiny bit disheartening. If she'd really been thinking properly she may have been alarmed at Ron's lack of response, however, she wasn't, and Ron took full advantage of this.
With a loud thwap a sopping wet sponge hit Hermione square in the face, soaking her body and robes thoroughly. "You are going to pay for that, and dearly, if I have anything to say about it," Hermione said in a deadly calm whisper.
Ron gave her a roguish smile, looking much to happy for Hermione's liking. Slowly, she walked over to the taller boy and opened her mouth to lecture him on protocol, and not just a lecture, mind, but THE lecture.
Of course, she never got the chance.
***
"Oh. My. God."
"Ablahblah."
"English, Harry!" Ginny hissed. None too gently, she poked him in the ribs.
"Gin…please tell me you're seeing what I'm seeing."
Ginny nodded, a goofy grin on her face. She was only barely able to whisper as she said, "Oh, I am. And it's quite the sight for sore eyes."
"Ablur…er…bloody hell, Gin." Next, Harry looked down at his watch. "But…hasn't he been kissing her long enough?"
***
Indeed, Ron had grabbed Hermione nearly a full minute beforehand, and he didn't look like he was letting go of her anytime soon. Triggered by Hermione's menacing glare (of all things!) as she looked up—way up—at Ron, Ron had accomplished what everybody had given up for lost—kissing Hermione. She had looked, in Harry's opinion, as if nothing short of a bomb would end the oncoming tirade, and instead, all it took was a kiss from Ron. Where it came from, nobody knew, but now Ron and Hermione were wrapped in an embrace that seemed straight out of Ginny's favorite romance novel.
"Come on, James. Our work here is done."
Harry nodded and gave Ginny a smile. "I just hope they give this up before Filch comes back and sees they're not done cleaning."
Ginny frowned. "Little chance of that happening." Suddenly, Ginny gasped. "Merlin, I don't care if he's my brother, he'd better move that hand." Ron ignorantly complied, perhaps because of the mental vibes being sent his way, and Ginny put down her wand.
"Wait, Ginny, leave your wand out, let's help them out." Ginny nodded knowingly, then repeated the name of a spell.
"Perfect."
Each nodded to the other and uttered the incantation to clean the stones in the dungeon. Harry briefly wondered if the sudden burst of magic would alert the kissing couple to their presence, and was only mildly relieved when they didn't even stop playing tonsil-hockey long enough to notice.
"Let's go," Ginny said when they'd finished. "At first this was cute, now it's nightmare material."
***
An all-encompassing warmth had blanketed Hermione the second the boy before her had let his lips meet her own. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before. It had started out with a feeling almost like nausea, before she went numb completely. Her heart was racing, and she was sure Ron could hear it pounding. When her knees gave way, Hermione discovered it wasn't even so bad when Ron had to support her body-weight, holding her as if she were some china doll.
Ron was in seventh heaven. He did not know what had possessed him to kiss Hermione, but he was sure as hell glad that he'd done so. At first he'd been panicked, more than a tad bit alarmed that she was just standing there. Had he killed her? But no, when he felt her respond he felt that all was right in the world, and he could have taken on You-Know-Who himself.
At one point, much later, Hermione pulled her head back. "I'm sorry, Ron. I'm really sorry for everything I said and did…I was just so…well, I was…"
Ron, with his magnanimous patience, came to her rescue. "Hermione, just tell me. Come on, spit it out already."
Hermione closed her eyes and hid her face in his robes. "I was scared."
Ron looked at her incredulously. "Scared, of me? Why that's the silliest thing I've ever heard. They let you be a prefect? Next they'll be letting me take your spot."
"In your dreams, buster," she told him. Neither noticed they were still holding the other in their arms.
"WHAT THE BLAZES IS GOIN' ON!?!?" It was a cruel awakening, but it seemed Argus Filch had come to collect the pair, and with a sickening dread, they realized that a) they had been caught cuddled up together by Filch, and b) they hadn't cleaned the floor. Both looked down to their assigned task, and gasped in shock and wonder at its lack of muck.
Harry and Ginny had saved them from one wrath, but it looked as if they'd have to get themselves out of this one. "You see," Ron started, "Hermione was so tired she fainted."
"Dead away," piped up Hermione.
"And I simply went to go catch her."
"Thank Merlin."
"And really, it's not what you think."
"Not at all."
Flilch eyed them both warily, taking in their dirt stained faces, which were properly hiding the redness they'd accumulated during their snog fest…er…cleaning.
"I've had enough of you brats, go on now, git!" he said.
Ron and Hermione needed no further prompting, they ran out past the old caretaker, hand in hand, back towards Gryffindor Tower.
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::Pants::
After all this writing, I hope you all reward me with some reviews. Like a puppy, come on, I know you give them dog biscuits when they're good, what about your friendly neighborhood fanfiction writer? Please?