At The Hands of the Caretaker
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on their way upstairs after Transfiguration when they heard a crash from down a nearby corridor.
"What was that?" Ron wondered.
"Probably just Peeves," Harry said.
But he was wrong, for a second later, the tiny man that they had seen sitting next to doctor evil walked into their sight. He had apparently just hit his head on a suit of armor.
"Uh, hi there!" said Ron, waving. The little man gave him the finger. "Oy! That's not proper!" The little man gave him the finger on both hands. Ron got pissed. "Little bugger…" He picked up a quill lying on the ground and threw it at the little man. It hit him in the eye, and he flung both hands over it and started going "Eee! Eee!"
The next moment, a tapestry behind them was flung aside, and Dr. Evil, the caretaker, stepped out, and he immediately rushed over to his little friend. "Mini-me! Are ya okay?"
Mini-me nodded.
"Are ya hurt?"
Mini-me shook his head.
"Do you want a hot pocket? No? An ego? Hmm… Who did this to you?"
Mini-me pointed a stubby finger at Harry and his friends.
"Really?" Dr. Evil stood slowly and approached Harry. "Harry? 's there somethin you want to tell me?"
Harry gulped. "N-no sir."
"Really?"
"Ron was provoked, sir. Your mini friend gave him the bird!"
"Riiiight. Well, I'll let it go. Once. Should we meet again in unfavorable circumstances, it will be far less pleasant."
"Yes sir."
Dr. Evil took Mini-me's hand. "Let's go, Mini-me. We'll ask the house-elves to make us hot pockets."
After Dr. Evil was safely gone, Hermione said, "I really don't like him!"
"Hey, at least he's better than Filch," Harry offered.
"Still, he looks like a guy you don't want to piss off," Ron said.
"Well, come on it's time for Potions." Hermione said.
Potions class went as usual. Snape and Harry were at each other's throats, and Malfoy and his cronies did everything they could to try to screw up Harry's potion.
"Ignore them, Harry," Ron said from the table behind, where he and Hermione were working together. "Not worth your time."
Harry tried his very best to shut out everything but the task at hand, but he was startled a half-hour later by a loud bang. Ron's potion had gone wrong, and his hands were covered in thick green slime.
"My, my, my, Mr. Weasley…" Snape said from the front of the room. "It seems like more than one person in here is completely incompetent."
Neville's fists clenched.
"Zero marks for today, Mr. Weasley. Pity."
Ron growled, but Hermione said, "Ignore him, ignore him. Here, let me help you wipe your hands off." She grabbed a cloth and started rubbing Ron's hands down.
A chill went through Ron as he felt Hermione's hands run the cloth over his own. And when she was done, she looked up at him with a smile, and their eyes locked for a few blissful seconds. Unfortunately, the bell rang, so they had no more time for the moment.
Ron found himself pondering the mysterious feeling that had just overcome him. All she did was wipe his hands down. That's all. But the way she had done it, so slow and gentle… and that look in her eyes… it was almost like she was longing for something… like she had been waiting for that moment.
"Ron? Are you okay?" Hermione asked, causing him to snap out of his thoughts.
"Huh? Oh… yeah, I'm okay."
She smiled at him. "I'm glad. Come on, it's lunchtime!"
Ron smiled back, but his insides were in turmoil. Something was definitely changing. And it was good.