Disclaimer: The great J. K. Rowling owns all...I own nothing. :) I
get no money from this...just fun!
AN: Yay! It took me three days to write this because the electricity kept going out. GRR! Good thing I save a lot. lol We've been having really bad storms here in Ohio, so forgive me, please. lol Anyway, this is again, shorter, and a bit on the serious side once more. :) Oh vell! Zat iz ze vey ze ball iz volling! The story writed itself. LOL Anyway, here you are! Enjoy! Oh, and for the men...please pardon my feministic views. lol And the men insults are dedicated to my friend Dan. *evil grin*
Chapter Seven: Misunderstood
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Hermione wasn't in the Gryffindor common room. Ron frowned deeply before taking a seat on the couch before the fire. He was happy that she wasn't there, as he needed to think about what had just happened before attempting any kind of conversation with her. Ron closed his eyes and sighed. For some odd reason, he felt betrayed by Hermione telling Seamus about their love making. He had wanted to keep it private from everyone, their own little secret, and now the entire school knew. Try as he might to remind himself that she did it to save him, Ron just couldn't keep from feeling hurt
Ron thought back to the bet once again. If Hermione had known about the bet all along, why had she gone along with the lessons? Why had she made love to him last night? Why hadn't she told him she knew? The answer came abrubtly, souring in his stomach.
Because she wanted to get even with him.
Ron laid his head in his hands. So it was all a lie, all just some big joke. She had learned about the bet and decided to punish him by seducing him, giving him what he wanted, and then taking it away. How cruel. How inhumane.
So she really didn't care about him. She had just given him her body the previous night like some kind of whore, in the name of revenge. No wonder she had laughed when he told her he loved her. The pain was deafening. He had thought that he would finally be happy, that all his dreams were coming true. Now his dreams were crashing down on top of him and he felt he couldn't breathe. Hermione didn't love him. No, she was the Ice Queen. How would she know how to love? Ron's pain evolved into anger and a great fire burned in his heart. He stared at the fireplace, his face screwed up in anger. He was going to show Miss Granger that his love wasn't to be taken for granted. She couldn't just play around with his feelings like that.
Ron stood up slowly, contimplating exactly what he wanted to say before stomping off to Hermione's room, his teeth bared. She was either there or in the Library, and for her sake, it had best not be the latter. As he reached her door, he raised his large fist and pounded it three times, knocking as loudly as he possibly could. There was a moment's pause before Hermione called out, "It's open Ron."
He slammed the door open and stared around the room. The minx would probably be hiding, trying to confuse him. But there was no confusing such a wise, powerful man such as Ronald Weasley. She was probably hiding in the large closet to his left! Ron hurled himself across the room, throwing open the closet door. He threw item after item , searching for the wench he knew was hiding like a coward. As he reached the bottom, he realized that beneath the pile of clothes, there was no Hermione. Maybe she was under the large pile of silk panties that lay in the corner! Ron tore through them, snarling like a wild animal, nearing foaming at the mouth and yet, when the floor became visable once more, there was no Hermione. She couldn't hide forever! Perhaps she was hiding beheath that large, fluffy, pink blanket! He reached for it, yanking it high above his head and yelling, "AH HA!" But still, there was no Hermione. Ron was fraustrated.
"Do you always get that excited over women's panties?"
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Hermione stared at Ron from her seat on the bed. She had been sitting there when he had thrown the door open, breathing hard and looking ready to kill. She had continued to sit on the bed as he searched her closet, throwing her neatly organized clothing all over the place. She still sat there, in fact. He had never even glanced at her before making his way across the room, searching for an unknown item in her seemingly bottomless closet. She was a tad bit confused, to say the least. Now Ron sat on his knees in her closet, a pair of her favorite bright orange panties situated on his head like a hat, her pink comforter wrapped around him. He gazed up at her in wonder, never looking more like an innocent, little boy. She smiled sweetly, unable to stop herself from thinking about what beautiful babies he would make. She just hoped they were hers as well.
She had known this would come. Ron would probably be a wee bit mad at her because she had not told him she knew about the bet. She had expected it. It was only natural, as he was a man, and men were irrational, as all women know. She had not, however, been expecting this wild man to come barging into her room. His eyes were strange. She had never seen a darker blue, and they were full of fire and rage. What in the world was he so angry about? She had done nothing to deserve such anger, and was sure that if Ron only listened to reason, they would get past this episode of needless drama.
Of course, they was one tiny thing Hermione forgot.
Men don't listen to reason.
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Somehow, Hermione had eluded him in the closet, sneaking past him to sit on the bed. Surely she had not been sitting there the entire time! Ron stared up at her, suddenly realizing how strange he must look. Here he was, a grown man with a pair of panties on his head, and a blanket wrapped around him like a cape. She smiled. Was she laughing at him? How dare she! Ron threw the comforter from his body, swiping the panties off his head. "You can stop laughing now! We need to talk."
He stood up and made his way toward her bed, stalking like a panther. She raised one eyebrow as she watched him, then carefully closed the book in her lap, laying it aside. "And what exactly do you want to talk about Ron?"
He laughed menicinly. "What, no 'Mr. Weasley?' Why such informality now, your Highness?"
She had a puzzled look on her face. "Your highness? What in the world are you talking about?"
"I'm addressing you properly, your Majesty. After all, you are the Ice Queen." He watched for any sign that his words were affecting her. Her brown eyes narrowed slightly, but she was the perfect picture of calm. He leaned against her bed post and crossed his arms, continuing. "It's a pity that such beauty is wasted on such a cruel soul. I would never of thought it possible of you, Hermione, but the way you played me just proves all the more that you aren't as sweet as you seem. I wondered why you came to me last night, all pretty and perfect and willing...now I know. It's pathetic."
She had no reaction. She sat stiffly, her nose lifted in the air like true royalty. She was very good at masking her feelings, he realized. She finally spoke, a quiet anger in her voice that betrayed her calm appearence. "You had better explain, Mr. Weasley."
Ron smiled slightly, wanting to taunt her for the pain he was feeling. "You've known about the bet all along. Neville just confessed that he told you, don't deny it. So why did you keep teaching me and why did you give yourself to me?" Ron acted like he was pondering this for a moment, then stared into her face. "Because you wanted revenge." Hermione's eyes lowered slightly and any shadow of a doubt Ron had of her innocence washed away. "So it all meant nothing. The kiss, my words, last night. It was nothing to you but a means of using me. And that is EXACTLY what you did, you USED me. It makes me sick to think about it. There I was, pouring my poor, little heart out to you, telling you I LOVED you, for god's sake, and you were laughing all along. You, Hermione Granger, are the worst kind of person. You're -"
"A player?" Hermione stood suddenly, staring him down. She crossed the short distance between them, biting out her words. "Someone who uses someone else? So wouldn't that make me a lot like YOU, Ron?" Ron's eyes grew large in surprise. He hadn't been expecting this. Her eyes were glittering with anger, her mouth set in a stiff line. She leaned forward until they were as close as possible. "I remember all the things you've done with other girls, Ron. I remember the fact that you've bedded every girl in Gryffindor, and then tossed them all away, exposing their feelings and personal moments to your friends. You use women for your own pleasure, or whatever you get from sleeping with them, and then leave them to cry in the morning. Why would it be different for me? Talk about a bloody double standard! Because you believe that I used you once, I'm a slut, some kind of whore! But since you're a man and therefore superior to me in some way, you banging about 50 girls is alright? In fact, it's made you a star! You're a legend! Ronald "The Sex King" Weasley, isn't it? Well, I think it's more like Ronald "The Chauvanistic Pig" Weasley, and so do most the girls in Hogwarts. DO NOT berate ME for using someone when you've done it every day of your miserable life!"
Hermione spun on her heel and grabbed her Larry Water book, walking toward the door. She stopped and turned toward Ron, fury burning on her face. "And another thing, Mr. Weasley. I NEVER used you. I came to you willing last night because I knew you lost the bet, and I didn't want to see you suffer. Yes, I wanted revenge because you made me angry. You were going to try to use me like some piece of meat, then humiliate me in front of everyone. I wanted revenge, but I would never go as far as to hurt you to seek it. I am not some pathetic no brained bimbo. I am a educated, intellegent young woman, and I don't hurt people for the fun of it! Haven't you figured out yet why I called off the lessons? Because I knew it was going too far, and that I was getting too close. Revenge isn't worth the destruction of my heart, nor yours." She turned back toward the door, turning the handle. Ron's breathing was shallow. He didn't know what to say. He stared at her bed, listening to the door click shut behind him. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He had been wrong, so very wrong. He should have known she would never use him, but he was still hurt. He had wanted her to come to him because she cared for him, not just wanting to save him from losing the bet. Here he was, in love for the first time in his young life, and the woman he cared for did not return his feelings. Ron's heart felt tight.
As he turned to leave, he saw a small piece of paper on the floor near her bed. He bent over to retrive it. It was the same piece of parchment that had fallen out of her Larry Water book that morning. Ron hestitated before opening it, his eyes scanning the words written upon it. His mouth fell open, his eyes large. "Oh my god..." He stuffed the parchment into his pocket before running from Hermione's room, urgent to find her and correct the mistake he had made.
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AN: Yay! It took me three days to write this because the electricity kept going out. GRR! Good thing I save a lot. lol We've been having really bad storms here in Ohio, so forgive me, please. lol Anyway, this is again, shorter, and a bit on the serious side once more. :) Oh vell! Zat iz ze vey ze ball iz volling! The story writed itself. LOL Anyway, here you are! Enjoy! Oh, and for the men...please pardon my feministic views. lol And the men insults are dedicated to my friend Dan. *evil grin*
Chapter Seven: Misunderstood
~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~
Hermione wasn't in the Gryffindor common room. Ron frowned deeply before taking a seat on the couch before the fire. He was happy that she wasn't there, as he needed to think about what had just happened before attempting any kind of conversation with her. Ron closed his eyes and sighed. For some odd reason, he felt betrayed by Hermione telling Seamus about their love making. He had wanted to keep it private from everyone, their own little secret, and now the entire school knew. Try as he might to remind himself that she did it to save him, Ron just couldn't keep from feeling hurt
Ron thought back to the bet once again. If Hermione had known about the bet all along, why had she gone along with the lessons? Why had she made love to him last night? Why hadn't she told him she knew? The answer came abrubtly, souring in his stomach.
Because she wanted to get even with him.
Ron laid his head in his hands. So it was all a lie, all just some big joke. She had learned about the bet and decided to punish him by seducing him, giving him what he wanted, and then taking it away. How cruel. How inhumane.
So she really didn't care about him. She had just given him her body the previous night like some kind of whore, in the name of revenge. No wonder she had laughed when he told her he loved her. The pain was deafening. He had thought that he would finally be happy, that all his dreams were coming true. Now his dreams were crashing down on top of him and he felt he couldn't breathe. Hermione didn't love him. No, she was the Ice Queen. How would she know how to love? Ron's pain evolved into anger and a great fire burned in his heart. He stared at the fireplace, his face screwed up in anger. He was going to show Miss Granger that his love wasn't to be taken for granted. She couldn't just play around with his feelings like that.
Ron stood up slowly, contimplating exactly what he wanted to say before stomping off to Hermione's room, his teeth bared. She was either there or in the Library, and for her sake, it had best not be the latter. As he reached her door, he raised his large fist and pounded it three times, knocking as loudly as he possibly could. There was a moment's pause before Hermione called out, "It's open Ron."
He slammed the door open and stared around the room. The minx would probably be hiding, trying to confuse him. But there was no confusing such a wise, powerful man such as Ronald Weasley. She was probably hiding in the large closet to his left! Ron hurled himself across the room, throwing open the closet door. He threw item after item , searching for the wench he knew was hiding like a coward. As he reached the bottom, he realized that beneath the pile of clothes, there was no Hermione. Maybe she was under the large pile of silk panties that lay in the corner! Ron tore through them, snarling like a wild animal, nearing foaming at the mouth and yet, when the floor became visable once more, there was no Hermione. She couldn't hide forever! Perhaps she was hiding beheath that large, fluffy, pink blanket! He reached for it, yanking it high above his head and yelling, "AH HA!" But still, there was no Hermione. Ron was fraustrated.
"Do you always get that excited over women's panties?"
~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~
Hermione stared at Ron from her seat on the bed. She had been sitting there when he had thrown the door open, breathing hard and looking ready to kill. She had continued to sit on the bed as he searched her closet, throwing her neatly organized clothing all over the place. She still sat there, in fact. He had never even glanced at her before making his way across the room, searching for an unknown item in her seemingly bottomless closet. She was a tad bit confused, to say the least. Now Ron sat on his knees in her closet, a pair of her favorite bright orange panties situated on his head like a hat, her pink comforter wrapped around him. He gazed up at her in wonder, never looking more like an innocent, little boy. She smiled sweetly, unable to stop herself from thinking about what beautiful babies he would make. She just hoped they were hers as well.
She had known this would come. Ron would probably be a wee bit mad at her because she had not told him she knew about the bet. She had expected it. It was only natural, as he was a man, and men were irrational, as all women know. She had not, however, been expecting this wild man to come barging into her room. His eyes were strange. She had never seen a darker blue, and they were full of fire and rage. What in the world was he so angry about? She had done nothing to deserve such anger, and was sure that if Ron only listened to reason, they would get past this episode of needless drama.
Of course, they was one tiny thing Hermione forgot.
Men don't listen to reason.
~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~`*`~~
Somehow, Hermione had eluded him in the closet, sneaking past him to sit on the bed. Surely she had not been sitting there the entire time! Ron stared up at her, suddenly realizing how strange he must look. Here he was, a grown man with a pair of panties on his head, and a blanket wrapped around him like a cape. She smiled. Was she laughing at him? How dare she! Ron threw the comforter from his body, swiping the panties off his head. "You can stop laughing now! We need to talk."
He stood up and made his way toward her bed, stalking like a panther. She raised one eyebrow as she watched him, then carefully closed the book in her lap, laying it aside. "And what exactly do you want to talk about Ron?"
He laughed menicinly. "What, no 'Mr. Weasley?' Why such informality now, your Highness?"
She had a puzzled look on her face. "Your highness? What in the world are you talking about?"
"I'm addressing you properly, your Majesty. After all, you are the Ice Queen." He watched for any sign that his words were affecting her. Her brown eyes narrowed slightly, but she was the perfect picture of calm. He leaned against her bed post and crossed his arms, continuing. "It's a pity that such beauty is wasted on such a cruel soul. I would never of thought it possible of you, Hermione, but the way you played me just proves all the more that you aren't as sweet as you seem. I wondered why you came to me last night, all pretty and perfect and willing...now I know. It's pathetic."
She had no reaction. She sat stiffly, her nose lifted in the air like true royalty. She was very good at masking her feelings, he realized. She finally spoke, a quiet anger in her voice that betrayed her calm appearence. "You had better explain, Mr. Weasley."
Ron smiled slightly, wanting to taunt her for the pain he was feeling. "You've known about the bet all along. Neville just confessed that he told you, don't deny it. So why did you keep teaching me and why did you give yourself to me?" Ron acted like he was pondering this for a moment, then stared into her face. "Because you wanted revenge." Hermione's eyes lowered slightly and any shadow of a doubt Ron had of her innocence washed away. "So it all meant nothing. The kiss, my words, last night. It was nothing to you but a means of using me. And that is EXACTLY what you did, you USED me. It makes me sick to think about it. There I was, pouring my poor, little heart out to you, telling you I LOVED you, for god's sake, and you were laughing all along. You, Hermione Granger, are the worst kind of person. You're -"
"A player?" Hermione stood suddenly, staring him down. She crossed the short distance between them, biting out her words. "Someone who uses someone else? So wouldn't that make me a lot like YOU, Ron?" Ron's eyes grew large in surprise. He hadn't been expecting this. Her eyes were glittering with anger, her mouth set in a stiff line. She leaned forward until they were as close as possible. "I remember all the things you've done with other girls, Ron. I remember the fact that you've bedded every girl in Gryffindor, and then tossed them all away, exposing their feelings and personal moments to your friends. You use women for your own pleasure, or whatever you get from sleeping with them, and then leave them to cry in the morning. Why would it be different for me? Talk about a bloody double standard! Because you believe that I used you once, I'm a slut, some kind of whore! But since you're a man and therefore superior to me in some way, you banging about 50 girls is alright? In fact, it's made you a star! You're a legend! Ronald "The Sex King" Weasley, isn't it? Well, I think it's more like Ronald "The Chauvanistic Pig" Weasley, and so do most the girls in Hogwarts. DO NOT berate ME for using someone when you've done it every day of your miserable life!"
Hermione spun on her heel and grabbed her Larry Water book, walking toward the door. She stopped and turned toward Ron, fury burning on her face. "And another thing, Mr. Weasley. I NEVER used you. I came to you willing last night because I knew you lost the bet, and I didn't want to see you suffer. Yes, I wanted revenge because you made me angry. You were going to try to use me like some piece of meat, then humiliate me in front of everyone. I wanted revenge, but I would never go as far as to hurt you to seek it. I am not some pathetic no brained bimbo. I am a educated, intellegent young woman, and I don't hurt people for the fun of it! Haven't you figured out yet why I called off the lessons? Because I knew it was going too far, and that I was getting too close. Revenge isn't worth the destruction of my heart, nor yours." She turned back toward the door, turning the handle. Ron's breathing was shallow. He didn't know what to say. He stared at her bed, listening to the door click shut behind him. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He had been wrong, so very wrong. He should have known she would never use him, but he was still hurt. He had wanted her to come to him because she cared for him, not just wanting to save him from losing the bet. Here he was, in love for the first time in his young life, and the woman he cared for did not return his feelings. Ron's heart felt tight.
As he turned to leave, he saw a small piece of paper on the floor near her bed. He bent over to retrive it. It was the same piece of parchment that had fallen out of her Larry Water book that morning. Ron hestitated before opening it, his eyes scanning the words written upon it. His mouth fell open, his eyes large. "Oh my god..." He stuffed the parchment into his pocket before running from Hermione's room, urgent to find her and correct the mistake he had made.
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