Accidentally

By soul release


When Professor Flitwick asked Hermione to tutor Ron on Conjuring Spells after he had missed consecutive lessons due to falling off his broom prior Friday in a game against the Slytherins, she readily agreed.

Well, now, she was regretting it.

She sighed for the umpteenth time as she paced around the empty classroom they'd been using to learn the Conjuring Spells. Ron hadn't managed to successfully do the spell and was becoming increasingly bad-tempered; so, you tell him to follow the textbook instructions, he snarls at you, and when you tell him to hold the wand like so and so, he bites your head off or simply acts as if you don't exist.

Hurray.

It was getting, quite honestly, annoying.

And now, this.

She had half the mind to chuck the textbook at his head.

Patience, Hermione. It's your responsibility – you did promise Professor Flitwick, she reasoned, trying to calm herself down.

She succeeded, chose to drop the throw-textbook-at-the-biggest-prat-in-English-history plan, and instead said:

"You wave the wand like this, Ron," she repeated, trying to sound patient while demonstrating the technique. Ron had been doing the same wrong wand movements for about twenty times in a row, and had been ignoring her instructions for the same duration of time. Ron chose to ignore her – again. It was quite predictable, really. Honestly, she wondered why she dealt with him, feeling quite angered and frustrated again.

It's your responsibility. Be patient, she told herself once more, but she knew she didn't sound very convincing.

After all, quite sadly, it was her responsibility.

It's not like this …" she illustrated the wavy movement he'd been doing, basically repeating her instructions once more. She decided to call the wand technique "Hi-my-name-is-Ron-and-I-am-an-extremly-thick-headed-git-and-this-wand-movement-doesn't-work-but-I-don't-care" movement.

"Well, why don't you try and do it?" Ron growled, clutching his wand so tightly and she was sure if he added just a tiny ounce more of pressure, it would crack into two. She could practically see frustration and indignation steaming from his ears. They were probably oozing out of her ears too. Well, whose wouldn't be if they were dealing with such a GIT like Ron.

Well, maybe I have, Ron – and I've been trying to teach it to you for SIXTY minutes!

Patience, Hermione, patience, she breathed in and out, attempting to calm herself.

"Fine," she declared, and snatched her wand again. Perhaps, teaching him a lesson would set things straight. "Conjurus Textbook." She waved her wand – in the correct movement – and the textbook appeared out of nowhere, and plopped itself promptly upon the desk beside her.

"Insufferable know-it-all," he muttered darkly, scowling almost scarily at the Charms textbook.

"Ron," she argued defensively. "Just because I listen in class and I know how to perform this spell does not means I'm an insufferable know-it-all."

"Is too."

"Am not."

"Is too."

Screw patience.

Hermione threw up her hands in fury. If this was where the tutoring was going, and if he was going to be this impossible to deal with … and such a total and utter prat, then she gave up.

What can she say – she tried? She imagined telling Professor Flitwick – "I'm so sorry that Ron hadn't managed to learn it. I tried, but he was being so stupid and un-deal-able."

Well, un-deal-able wasn't really a word. But she didn't care anyways. She couldn't stand it anymore. He was just … too intolerable. (Italics are great fun to use.)

"Look," She said, glowering at him dangerously, a furious expression upon her slightly-freckled face, her hair practically crackling with rage. "I give up now, okay? Do you know why? I've been trying to be patient with you for the past bloody hour, trying to teach you how to do it properly. But do you listen? NO. You bit my head off, argue with me constantly, and ignore me. So I give up. I'm leaving."

She shoved her books into her old book bag, and thrust her wand in. But Ron was staring at her in awe.

"You swore!" He said with conspicuous mingled pride upon his face, practically glowing. Honestly.

"So?" She said acidly, too enraged with him to gasp in shock as she normally would've done (Eek! I'm setting a bad example for the younger years, and I'm the Head Girl!). "You would be, too, if the person you were dealing with was so thick-headed and ignorant and ugh."

Silence dwelled as she continued to pack away her things. It suited her just fine though because if he did open his mouth, it would probably be a diatribe or rant or … well, something stupid.

Then –

He did something he'd never done before.

(No, he did not kiss her … you fool)

He ….

…apologized. Wait, that deserved capital letters and bold to emphasize the rarity of the occasion)

APOLOGIZED.

It was frightening, Hermione realized, later on in an absurd and ridiculous way.

"Herms … I'm … I'm …" he seemed to struggling with himself, as if afraid to lose his pride and dignity and everything else he owned, including his vanilla-flavored sugar quills that lasted up to three hours straight, "sorry."

She gaped. Openly.

Literally.

"You – er – you – wha?" She stared at him outright, incredulous. Ron Bilius Weasley rarely asked forgiveness for anything, even if he had to face the wrath of her. She had only heard him apologize once in his lifetime, and that was in third year after all the havoc and ranting and furious blushing they'd gone through. She swore she was going to fall over. Really soon.

Wobble. Wobble.

(Splat!)

"I'm sorry about being rude to you." He was flushing furiously now, avoiding her eyes. "There's nothing wrong with me apologizing." He said a bit indignantly.

"Oh … well, you just apologize … really, really rarely. It's still quite a shocker."

"Oh, hush up." Ears were turning red.

"Anyways, I forgive you." She said, smiling at his shy earnestness, nearly wanting to burst into happy tears but stopped herself just in the nick of time so that she wouldn't die of embarrassment later on. And somehow, no matter how bad his fault was, she could always forgive him when he asked for it. He was always so sincere and sweet when he apologized.

"Really?"

In the dimness of the candlelight, he looked sweet, his face blushing red, and his hair all ruffled and she just wanted to kiss him on the cheek …

He's your best friend, Hermione.

Why on earth are you thinking like this?

She pushed the thought away, but somehow, something felt awkward. She pushed the awkwardness away as well, and strayed onto a subject that wouldn't make her think of such things – things she didn't want to think about. Things she would never want to think about.

"You're still a prat, you know."

"Am not."

She groaned obviously. "Let's not be five-year olds. Anyways, the Conjuring Spell …"

It WAS really strange because he actually paid attention this time as the female Gryffindor watched him follow her instructions carefully and with precision she'd had never seen – ever – in her life. She hadn't even known he was capable of it – goodness, after seeing all the times Ron had set the things he'd been supposed to charm on fire … Within thirty or forty minutes, he finally got the hang of it, and could actually get the textbook to appear out of thin air and let it plop neatly upon a nearby desk.

Smiling, she felt satisfied to know that her hard work had finally paid off …

… Yet for some reason, something didn't feel right. Something felt uncomfortable … not meant …

Something felt missing

… Like bickering.

Don't be foolish, she admonished, and erased the thought from her head. Hadn't you always hated it when you two bickered?

"Okay, let's just try this one more time," she instructed instead, a hint of bossiness in her voice.

He simply nodded and reached to pick the book that'd fallen of the floor …

BANG!

… And tripped and fell …

… And landed right on top of her …

For a moment, all she felt was the pain in her back and shoulder blades and something really warm on top of her crushing the breath out of her and was prepared to launch a head on lecture about "watch where you put your feet" for the fellow Gryffindor who seemed to be born with two left feet.

No wonder Padma Patil ditched him at the dance, she thought darkly.

But her body was reacting differently …

She was BLUSHING. And all she wanted was for him to stay there, and he felt so warm … and …

Her mind lost control and for what seemed like hours, her eyes got drawn to his … and they stared at each other, a bit lost, a bit unsure … just gazing … not bothering with the fact that he was toppled over her on the floor of the Charms Classroom, books and practice material strewn all over …

… And she knew she wanted to kiss him, hug him …

"Hermione …" he croaked … "I'm …"

Merlinmerlinmerlinmerlinmerlin!

She bolted (well, not really, seeing that a person who was twenty pounds heavier than her was on top of her), and snapped quickly out of her reverie, an embarrassed flush coming into her face …

He's your best friend, god's sake.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Act like nothing's happened. You have to fix this; you can't let things go on the way you did.

"Ron, um … can you get off of me?" She said, a bit timidly.

But it was too late – something was already amiss. A sinister, undesired awkwardness haunted the air, and suddenly, all she could do was blush furiously, feeling utterly childish and ambivalent.

Stop being nonsensical.

Nonsensical?!

Foolish, I mean.

"Er … yeah … sorry …"

"Um … er … what were you going to say?" She asked, tripping over her tongue and blushing furiously again, avoiding his eyes. Merlin.

"Er … I'm … er … sorry." He apologized, flushing just as madly too, and avoiding her eyes.

Awkward Pause.

"Oh." Feeling that she had nothing better to say, not even to rant at him for tripping in the first place.

More Silence.

Stop being stupid. He's your best friend. Try and fix everything. Don't let things become awkward. She repeated over and over and over and over and over again, as if praying for a solution to end all this stumbling comments and blubbering nonsense.

"I – I gotta go." She said, thinking that a short absence would simply solve all this.

Even More Silence.

"Um, yeah. I'll see you later" he answered faintly as she tilts her head slightly in his direction, her lips too immobilized to smile properly in goodbye.

And thus the tutoring session laid forgotten as the girl briskly left the room, her book bag sailing behind her, leaving a boy with his wand and heavy textbook in his hands behind in the empty candlelit classroom, looking oddly and pitifully disappointed, muttering inaudibly to himself with no one to hear.

IalmosttoldherwhatItrulyfelt.


End


("I told you he liked her!" exclaimed Ginny behind the closet, squished into an Invisibility Cloak with none other than Mr. Potter, practically squealing as if watching a soap opera.

"He didn't say anything!"

"But he was going to!"

"Ron doesn't like Hermione!"

"He does! It's so obvious; it's like the relationship between Darya and Teddy on Love is Magic!"

Blank look.

"Never mind.")


Teehee … just an optional snippet that I wrote about Ginny and Harry spying on the famous duo, Ron and Hermione.

Read and review please!