It was late one Saturday night in the Gryffindor tower. The only students awake were a few of the seventh years, which were all trying to enjoy a few more memories before they graduated.
In one corner, Seamus Finnegan was trying desperately to finish a particularly difficult Charms essay, and Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were sitting opposite him, gossiping about this and that. In front of the fireplace sat Hermione Granger and one of her best friends, Ron Weasley, who was stubbornly bickering with her about the Potions essay they were both working on.
"Please, Hermione, I just have to write one more foot of parchment to write and I'll have finished. Just let me have a little look at yours," Ron pleaded with her for what seemed to be the millionth time. Irritated, Hermione glared at him, looking up from her work.
"No, Ron," she snapped testily, and then returned her glance to her paper.
Seamus gave a deep sigh, and shook his head in frustration. "At the rate they're going I'll never be able to finish my essay," he whispered to Lavender, who nodded, a pout crossing her face.
"They are annoying," she said with a slightly resentful sigh. Parvati nodded in agreement.
"I'm going to bed," she told them, standing up and stretching her arms. "Good night."
"I'm following you," Lavender told her, standing beside her friend. "'Night, Seamus."
He smiled at them. "Good night." As the girls traipsed up the stairs, he shot another annoyed glance at his fellow classmates and rolled his eyes. He got up and left the room, muttering under his breath as he went.
Hermione turned to Ron and glared again. "Excellent job, Ron," she told him sarcastically. "You've just driven away all of our friends."
Ron snorted. "Yes, Hermione, I was the one who forced them into leaving. I was the one moaning and groaning about my pathetic work ethic, not you."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Well," she said haughtily, "if the Sorting Hat fits…"
He made an angry sound in the back of his throat, and she just smiled at him daintily, jabbed her quill into a pot of ink, and scribbled a few more words onto her parchment.
Staring down at his paper in frustration, he groaned. "Bloody hell, Hermione! I'm supposed to be your best friend, and it's a widely known fact that friends help each other!"
Hermione looked up from her almost-finished essay. "If you need my help, Ron, just ask for it. Don't ask for my paper so you can simply cheat."
"But Hermione," he exclaimed, his voice rising a bit more than he had intended for it to, "That would be helping me, wouldn't it?"
She shook her head, and said, her voice only slightly lower than his, "Not in the long run, Ron."
"But you let me copy your papers all of the time, 'Mione! How is this different?"
A scandalized look crossed over her face. "I don't ever let you copy! I just-" she paused, searching for the right words, "I just correct your papers a lot."
His eyes shot heavenward, and he said in an exasperated voice, "So correct my papers then. Please, Hermione."
She frowned sternly at him. "Because, Ronald," she said, emphasizing his name in a way that strongly reminded him of his mother, "I still have to get this done, and then I have to write three rolls of parchment on a topic for Ancient Runes, and you're slowing me down very much."
He crossed his arms over his chest in a way that reminded Hermione irresistibly of her four-year-old cousin, Timothy. "That's so unfair, Hermione," he said crossly. "You know Harry would help me if he was awake."
She smiled at him in an attempt to placate him. "Well he's not awake now, and I really can't help you right now. So just stop, please."
Ron scowled at her, and faced away from her, bending back over his essay and trying to scribble in a few lines that might make sense. Ten minutes later, Hermione wrote down the last word onto her paper and smiled in satisfaction. She looked over at Ron and groaned inwardly in frustration; he was still refusing to look at her. Looking down resignedly, she tossed the paper towards him, making one of the corners hit him on the neck.
"Bloody hell," he exclaimed angrily, turning around only to glare at her. "What was that for?"
She suppressed a grin at the way he rubbed at his neck as if an axe had been thrown at him. "I'm finished," she told him. "I guess you can use it to complete yours."
Glancing down at the paper almost wistfully, he nodded his head resolutely. "I can handle it all on my own, thanks," he told her shortly. "I wouldn't want you to get impatient with me."
Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Well you don't have to worry about that, Ron. I'm already pretty impatient with you. And not just about this sodding essay, either."
Ron looked at her, his eyes wide with shock. "Did I make you swear, Hermione? You never swear! I'm so-" He paused, frowning a little. "Wait a tic. You're mad at me? What about?" He stood up, and placed a hand on his hip in irritation. Hermione grinned a little- now he was the one emulating his mum.
She stood up, too, looking up at him. "You're just so- so predictable!" she told him, her voice getting louder with every word. "So incredibly predictable, about everything! It's like you can't even think for yourself! The only time you ever talk to me is when you need help! And it's getting old, Ron!" Taking a deep breath, she said quietly, "You're just so predictable." And with one last look, she walked away from him, towards the portrait hole, thrusting it open, and jumping out, swinging it shut behind her.
Ron stood there for a moment, stunned into silence. Then he jolted from his stupor and ran after her. Once he had caught up with her, about twenty meters away from the Fat Lady, he grabbed her shoulder and twirled her around.
She looked up at him expectantly. "Yes, Ron?"
When he couldn't think of anything to say, she nodded regretfully. "That's what I thought." She turned around and began to walk away again.
Ron groaned loudly, and said, "Merlin, Hermione!" Then he jogged after her, turned her around once more, and kissed her.
Pulling away from her, he grinned down at her smugly. "Not so predictable now, am I?"
She shrugged her shoulders teasingly. "Eh," she said, a wide smile across her face. Rolling his eyes, he leaned down and kissed her again.
It was all rather predictable.
Well, I'd like to thank my friend Britt (she wrote most of the original story). It turned out ok. And then my beta Turkey! You're the best! You pretty much perfected our work to the maximum!