Sorry, forgot to put the disclaimer at the start of the story; here it is:
All characters and names copyright J.K. Rowling. Only the plot of this
story is mine. And by the way, if I was making money off it, I'd be living
in Edinburgh, rolling in the dough. Okay? Obviously I'm not.
Rejection
...Just five minutes...Ron repeated these words to himself as he climbed the stairs to the landing of Ginny's room. The door was shut; he opened it anyway.
Hermione looked so peaceful, her hair dishevelled, lying across the white pillow. Her leg had been propped up at the end of the camp bed, keeping the pain to a minimum. The steady rise and fall of her chest was calming. He sat there, watching; entranced just by her. She'd never like him, but he could still have his fantasies, couldn't he?
Ron leaned over to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face. She gasped and grasped his hand.
"Holy Jesus!" Her eyes were wide, her hand gripping his wrist painfully. "Ron! What are you doing here? You scared the shit outta me!"
"Hermione, easy!" he said, trying to catch his own breath. "I just came up to check on you. You doing all right?"
"I was," she said, a bit of an edge to her voice. "Until you came in and woke me up. And after what you did, you deserved it."
"Hermione," Ron said, exasperated. "What the hell are you talking about? What happened in the marshes?"
"YES!"
"Hey, I came after you, not the other way around."
"I could have handled it myself."
"Yeah," Ron snorted. "You could've handled it right well in the belly of that...thing. Or worse."
"You shouldn't have told those men what you did. They'll come after you."
"Muggles with guns? God, I'm scared. And can you please let go of my wrist now? I'll end up with bruises. I'd prefer not to have to tell Harry or Ginny that I got them from you."
Grudgingly, Hermione released her hold on him.
"What were you doing in the marshes anyway?" she demanded.
Ron was slightly taken aback. "What?"
"You heard me."
Ron's ears went pink. I wanted to see if you were meeting that...Krum, he thought to himself, though he didn't voice it. Yeah, I'm a jealous, stocking prat. Got what you wanted now?
"I was...er..." God, what was he supposed to tell her? "Erm...I was...sleepwalking." Sleepwalking? What is the matter with you, Weasley? Is that the very best you can come up with?
"I see," said Hermione skeptically. "And do you typically sleepwalk three miles away from your house at four in the morning?"
"No," Ron admitted. "But I did tonight. Do you have any idea why Harry and Ginny are in the Quidditch enclosure at..." he glanced at his watch, "Half-past six in the morning?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. God, her eyes were...Watch it, Weasley, you're being stupid...
"Practising Quidditch?" Hermione suggested sarcastically. "Ron, Harry would never do anything that would make you hurt him, if that's what you're worried about. He's too smart for that. And Ginny...what, do you think she's a – " she spat out the next word like the disgusting curse it was – "whore – " she shuddered – "or something? Honestly, Ron, you don't think much of your sister, do you? She's a big girl, she can stand up for herself, don't you think?"
"Er..." Ron was flabbergasted. Hermione was certainly more chipper than she should be, having had a sleeping potion a mere half hour ago. "Hermione, did you really take that potion? The sleeping potion?"
"No, Ron, I didn't. I'm not stupid."
"What, did you think I was trying to poison you?"
"No. I just need to think. And stop changing the subject, you bloody bastard."
"Hermione!"
"Well, that's what you're being," she said matter-of-factly. "Now, if you've nothing else to say to me, you git, go down, have breakfast, and talk to me later. I've got a lot of thinking I need to do. A lot. And I think I might have some material for my essay in Defence Against the Dark Arts, what with this whole event. If not that class, Care of Magical Creatures, surely. Now would you be so kind as to leave?" She turned away from him, face to the wall.
He moved to the door, muttering quietly, "I don't think Ginny's a whore, you know, and I do trust Harry."
"Get out, Ron, and shut the door after you."
What's got Hermione in such a bloody hellish mood? Ron wondered as he closed the door with a soft click behind himself. She nearly gets assaulted and all she can think about is a goddamn essay? What is wrong with the girl? Though he hated to admit it, Hermione was being a bit too Hermione- like to be normal just now. Normal for Hermione, that was. Good God, he wasn't making sense. He was crazy to think she would ever like him, well, that way, especially when she so obviously hated him as it was.
Rejection
...Just five minutes...Ron repeated these words to himself as he climbed the stairs to the landing of Ginny's room. The door was shut; he opened it anyway.
Hermione looked so peaceful, her hair dishevelled, lying across the white pillow. Her leg had been propped up at the end of the camp bed, keeping the pain to a minimum. The steady rise and fall of her chest was calming. He sat there, watching; entranced just by her. She'd never like him, but he could still have his fantasies, couldn't he?
Ron leaned over to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face. She gasped and grasped his hand.
"Holy Jesus!" Her eyes were wide, her hand gripping his wrist painfully. "Ron! What are you doing here? You scared the shit outta me!"
"Hermione, easy!" he said, trying to catch his own breath. "I just came up to check on you. You doing all right?"
"I was," she said, a bit of an edge to her voice. "Until you came in and woke me up. And after what you did, you deserved it."
"Hermione," Ron said, exasperated. "What the hell are you talking about? What happened in the marshes?"
"YES!"
"Hey, I came after you, not the other way around."
"I could have handled it myself."
"Yeah," Ron snorted. "You could've handled it right well in the belly of that...thing. Or worse."
"You shouldn't have told those men what you did. They'll come after you."
"Muggles with guns? God, I'm scared. And can you please let go of my wrist now? I'll end up with bruises. I'd prefer not to have to tell Harry or Ginny that I got them from you."
Grudgingly, Hermione released her hold on him.
"What were you doing in the marshes anyway?" she demanded.
Ron was slightly taken aback. "What?"
"You heard me."
Ron's ears went pink. I wanted to see if you were meeting that...Krum, he thought to himself, though he didn't voice it. Yeah, I'm a jealous, stocking prat. Got what you wanted now?
"I was...er..." God, what was he supposed to tell her? "Erm...I was...sleepwalking." Sleepwalking? What is the matter with you, Weasley? Is that the very best you can come up with?
"I see," said Hermione skeptically. "And do you typically sleepwalk three miles away from your house at four in the morning?"
"No," Ron admitted. "But I did tonight. Do you have any idea why Harry and Ginny are in the Quidditch enclosure at..." he glanced at his watch, "Half-past six in the morning?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. God, her eyes were...Watch it, Weasley, you're being stupid...
"Practising Quidditch?" Hermione suggested sarcastically. "Ron, Harry would never do anything that would make you hurt him, if that's what you're worried about. He's too smart for that. And Ginny...what, do you think she's a – " she spat out the next word like the disgusting curse it was – "whore – " she shuddered – "or something? Honestly, Ron, you don't think much of your sister, do you? She's a big girl, she can stand up for herself, don't you think?"
"Er..." Ron was flabbergasted. Hermione was certainly more chipper than she should be, having had a sleeping potion a mere half hour ago. "Hermione, did you really take that potion? The sleeping potion?"
"No, Ron, I didn't. I'm not stupid."
"What, did you think I was trying to poison you?"
"No. I just need to think. And stop changing the subject, you bloody bastard."
"Hermione!"
"Well, that's what you're being," she said matter-of-factly. "Now, if you've nothing else to say to me, you git, go down, have breakfast, and talk to me later. I've got a lot of thinking I need to do. A lot. And I think I might have some material for my essay in Defence Against the Dark Arts, what with this whole event. If not that class, Care of Magical Creatures, surely. Now would you be so kind as to leave?" She turned away from him, face to the wall.
He moved to the door, muttering quietly, "I don't think Ginny's a whore, you know, and I do trust Harry."
"Get out, Ron, and shut the door after you."
What's got Hermione in such a bloody hellish mood? Ron wondered as he closed the door with a soft click behind himself. She nearly gets assaulted and all she can think about is a goddamn essay? What is wrong with the girl? Though he hated to admit it, Hermione was being a bit too Hermione- like to be normal just now. Normal for Hermione, that was. Good God, he wasn't making sense. He was crazy to think she would ever like him, well, that way, especially when she so obviously hated him as it was.