Not Your Ordinary Love Story
by LondonWitch
A/N: Contrary to what you may think while you read this story, I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. Also, contrarily, while we're at it, I do not think that Ginny and Draco belong together even though Draco does (think that)...well, you'll see in the end. (Oh, what now, Andrew?)
Chapter One: Haven't A Clue
Friday, September 20th
"Honestly, Ron, when are you ever going to grow up? You need to stop with the whole spider thing," Hermione sighed, lugging her heavy schoolbag up to the portrait of the Fat Lady. The trio of Harry, Ron and Hermione were making their way back from a tiring Care of Magical Creatures class, and had encountered a row of spiders on the second floor. Ron, of course, had squealed and jumped backwards, knocking Hermione to the ground and causing her array of books to go flying in every direction and crash to the floor.
"Hermione, I can't! I just can't! How would you feel if something you loved turned into a giant spider? Like...like – your pillow, or something?" Ron shot back, shuddering at the remembrance of his teddy bear growing eight long, scaly legs. That was a memory he'd rather not re-visit again.
Hermione mumbled something under her breath while Harry said loudly to the portrait "Patronus," the password, and it swung open. Harry clambered into the large Common Room, leaving Ron and Hermione to their quarrel. He did not want to get involved...ever since that whole Krum/ Hermione/ Harry triangle, anyway. It was best to let them go at it and work the problem out, eventually, by themselves.
"What was that, Hermione? Did I just hear you say 'Mr. Reginald the 3rd?' Who in the world is Mr. Reginald the 3rd? No – wait – you're going out with some older guy! Hermione! 'Mr.'? Are you serious?" Ron seethed. He'd been mad as it was over Viktor Krum; now, if it was some thirty year old...Hermione was going to get it big-time. His ears started to go red with fury.
"NO! Mr. Reginald the 3rd is a yellow stuffed elephant I've had since I was two years old. And, for your information; no, I wouldn't like him to turn into a spider. So...so, I'm sorry," Hermione replied, turning a bit pink and following the long-gone Harry into the Common Room.
Ron walked up behind her. "Okay, then. No older guys, no worries – phew," he muttered, grinning in spite of himself. He didn't really notice what he was doing; actually, until Harry came up next to him and began to wave in front of Ron's face and everything of that nature.
"Earth to Ron. Come in, Ron. Are you even here with us? Or are you in Ronville?" Harry asked as he followed Ron's gaze to Hermione, who was now sitting in a squashy armchair, reading a hefty book titled 'Arithmancy – Numerology through the Times'.
"Hmmm? Oh, yeah, right, Ronland..." Ron said distractedly, still staring at the sixteen-year-old girl just across the room. "Don't you love the way her hair curls, Harry? And her eyes? They're like Honeydukes chocolate; they're – gorgeous and...brown. And...and..." Ron broke off, and looked at Harry, who was doubled over in a fit of silent laughter next to him.
"Hello, Ron. And how is Hermione today, since you seem to be concentrating on her rather than yourself?" Harry managed to say, still laughing, his green eyes watering.
Ron's eyes opened very wide, he was mortified. He hadn't even realized what he was saying or seeing. Looking around and abandoning Harry, he darted up the stairs to the boy's dormitories, humiliated.
Harry walked over to the couch in front of the fire where Seamus, Dean, and Neville were sitting. They were discussing something and Seamus was scribbling on a long sheet of yellowed parchment.
"Hey, guys. How's the bet coming?" The whole of Gryffindor house was betting on how long until Hermione and Ron got together. Even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were in on it. Judging by the sheet that Seamus had, there were quite a few takers.
"Not bad, Harry, not bad," Neville said, "But what was that all about with Ron? Is he crushing or what?" The group laughed again at Ron's expense, not only at the recent thing, but at Ron's sudden tongue-tied-ness every time seemed to get near Hermione.
"So, d'ya want to make a bet, Harry? You haven't, still....but then, they are your best friends. Sure you want to risk it?" Dean asked, grinning at the predicament Harry would be in if this all backfired on them. Not that it would, though. The whole school knew that Hermione and Ron liked each other. The two just weren't planning to admit it anytime soon.
"Yeah, why not?" Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out two galleons, handing them to Seamus, who scribbled Harry's name and wager onto the paper and placed the gold in his robes. Absentmindedly, as Seamus did so, he scratched his nose with his quill and got a great long streak of black ink all over his left nostril. The group laughed again, and pointed at his nose.
"So, how long do you think it'll be before they get together? We've got a nice range – anywhere from three days to eighteen months," Seamus inquired, running his finger over his nose, trying to get the ink off, and looking avidly at Harry as he did so.
"Oh, give them a week, I'd say. Maybe not even that long, but who knows. They haven't a clue that they like each other, I think," Harry said, grabbing his schoolbag from where he'd set it on the floor, "Now, if you don't mind, I've got to go see if Ron needs some psychological help. I think he's going to need it."
With that, Harry walked off towards the stairwell to the boy's dorms. The three boys that were left watched him go, and Neville remarked, "Well, we need to fix him up with somebody. Cho's definitely out of the picture."
Dean nodded, and added, "How about someone in Gryffindor? That way, she could be on our side during the Quidditch matches."
"Is Quidditch all you think about? I thought you were more into soccer, or football, or whatever that was," said Seamus, waving his quill in the air to make a point, "And how about this bet?" He started to ramble on about facts and figures again, and produced a few more sheets of parchment out of the pockets of his robes as he talked.
"Yeah, whatever," Dean and Neville said at the same time, and they too got up and left, leaving Seamus all to his lonesome with nothing but twenty pieces of parchment and a quill.