Chapter 9: Self-Conviction
"Hermione!"
Ron's voice – slightly apprehensive in tone – made her yelp and whirl to face him two feet from Snape's door.
He jogged towards her, looking sheepish. "Sorry."
Hermione felt a surge of irritation threaten to overwhelm her common sense. What was he doing here?
She forced a small smile. "What's up?"
"I… I forgot to tell you something."
Her mood deteriorated – if at all possible; Ron never used that tone of voice to say anything good.
"We…" Ron gulped. "We have our first Prefect's meeting tonight. It's in five minutes…"
"Ron!"
"I forgot… I'm sorry."
All of the anger and resentment that she'd been wallowing in prior to Ron's uninvited interruption exploded in his direction. "I did NEWT practise papers after classes because I thought I would time to do homework after my detention!"
An expression of total incredulity swept any contrition from his features. "What were you doing NEWT papers for?! We're in sixth year!"
"Oh for heaven's sake, Ron, NEWTs aren't something you can study for the weekend before."
"It's not the weekend before, it's the year before! You're mental."
"I'm prepared, which is more than I can say –" On impulse, she stepped forward, hands raising to shove at his shoulders, and opened her mouth to snarl, "For you."
But first, she inhaled – and was suddenly made aware of just how close her movement had brought them.
She glared up into Ron's half-angry, half-startled eyes for a fraction of a second – and then their mouths slammed together.
Nice, Hermione.
She felt incredibly short of breath, but a hormone-driven, suicidal part of her was refusing to let her lips loose contact with his. Her arms, seemingly acting of their own accord, wound themselves about his neck and pulled her body into abrupt contact with his and –
"Thirty points from Gryffindor."
Hermione's teeth snapped into Ron's tongue.
Yanking herself out of his arms – and mouth – she stumbled back into the opposite wall – to stare up into Snape's smouldering gaze.
She couldn't concentrate on anything except a fervent wish that Ron could stop breathing so loudly.
Snape turned cold, mocking eyes on her. "Are you so attached to the dungeons, Miss Granger, that you feel the need to utilise their hallways as you would your bedchamber?"
Oh, god. Oh shit, oh shit, shit.
Whoa… it's okay. He just caught you kissing. It's not that big a deal.
But it's Snape. Oh god dammit.
Ron had bristled at Snape's words and was visibly restraining himself from launching himself at the man, who, Hermione suddenly noticed – for some ridiculous reason – was now only a little more than a foot taller than Ron.
Snape turned with a sneer. "Control yourself, Mr. Weasley, before you embarrass your girlfriend further." His eyes contorted. "Get up to the meeting, both of you, or it will be a round fifty points."
Hermione stumbled away down the hallway without a second glance in Snape's direction. She heard Ron follow a moment later.
He only caught up with her a few feet from the meeting, completely winded.
"Hermione!"
She came to a stop, turned to look at him dully, and then buried her face in her hands.
"Where did you learn to run like th…" He trailed off at her reaction and, after a brief hesitation, moved over to pull her into comforting sort of hug.
She sniffed softly and shmushed her nose into his shoulder.
That was some kiss.
What was I thinking?! In the potions hallway. God…
Hermione, sweetie, I don't think that thought was what motivated that.
Ron pulled her closer, mumbling an inch from her ear. "Hermione… I'm really sorry I forgot to tell you about the meeting."
She sighed softly. "I know… I didn't mean to get so angry. The detention just had me upset …"
Ron pulled back to get a good look at her, expression turning stormy. "What did he make you do?"
"Oh, it's nothing." She elaborated, as he continued to eye her beadily. "Really. I just had to label bottles…"
Ron frowned, deflating slightly. "Oh… well… that's not too horrible."
I.e. What the hell are you so upset about? He'd have had me scrubbing shit-filled cauldrons for hours. Labels are nothing, but I'm trying not to upset you again, so I'm going to pretend to be sympathetic, even though I haven't got a clue why Snape's arduous label operation made you angry enough to –
Oh stop it. I don't expect him to understand things like that.
You don't?
Well, no…
Even though he's your boyfriend now?
That doesn't mean…
And even though one might expect a boyfriend to understand things like that?
That's not –
Really, to be the one person in the whole world to understand almost everything about you–
That's enough.
"Ron, I –"
"So Miss Perfect does have a weakness after all."
Malfoy's voice sliced between them with the ease of a knife through butter. "Just dangle a penniless numbskull in front of her hormones and she's suddenly late f–"
Ron plunged his hand into his robes, throat producing a strangled yell.
Malfoy followed suit with alacrity, but, to Hermione's intense relief, Flitwick chose that exact moment to trot out of the meeting room and stop both wand-bound hands dead in their tracks.
"You're late, children. Really, I expected better; it's the first meeting. Get inside, all of you, we're about to start."
Malfoy eyed her with a libidinous sneer before slinking through the door after him.
Hermione followed, clasping Ron's hand in a death grip to preclude Malfoy's public execution.
…or Ron's.
Please. Ron could take Malfoy any day.
That'd convince him, but convincing yourself is going to take a little more work.
Malfoy could never beat Ron in a fair fight.
Malfoy doesn't fight fair. Admit it, you might have faith in Ron's bravery, but you haven't got a clue who would win if it came to a duel.
…it's just that they'd fight so differently.
You know… if you ever wanted to find out, all you'd have to do is smile at Malfoy the right way.
What?
The way you smiled at Ron in your dormitory a few nights ago. But with a bit more challenge to it.
You've actually gone mental.
Just because you refuse to acknowledge the fact that you grew breasts over the summer, Hermione, it doesn't mean that the boys have.
Holy god. I'm not listening to this.
Oh, you've still got a while to go before you really start knocking 'em dead, but you're getting there.
I am not "knocking Malfoy dead!"
I know you're not. But he's noticed the fact that you grew up. And he can't stand the fact that he's attracted to a filthy little mudblood.
Don't be –
For god's sake, Hermione, if you could get over your insecurities and use them to your advantage for a change, you –
"Miss Granger?"
Hermione jerked her eyes – which had been squinting vaguely at Malfoy – over to Professor Flitwick, who was frowning as though she'd suddenly sprouted tentacles.
She blinked, pulling her mind back to the meeting. "Sorry?"
A few snickers and murmurs punctuated the air.
Flitwick shot her a puzzled frown before speaking in a slightly less severe tone. "Do you know when Professor Snape is planning to end your nightly detentions? We have to arrange the patrol schedules."
Hermione shut eyes momentarily, giving this evening's desolate ambience a chance to overwhelm her completely. "I'm sorry, sir, I have no idea. I can ask him tomorrow, if you'd like…"
Flitwick shook his head tiredly. "No, never mind. We'll just assign you to the later shifts for now."
Hermione cringed and sunk into the depths of her chair.
She didn't resurface until Flitwick pressed a patrol schedule into her hand ten minutes later and murmured, in an unexpectedly kind voice, that she should get some rest. Nodding to him with a tired smile, she let Ron pull her from the room.
His voice sounded hopefully in her ear. "Which shifts did you get?"
She groaned, looking the sheet over. "Eleven o'clock on Wednesdays and Thursdays, twelve o'clock on Sunday, and ten o'clock every second Tuesday. Joy."
A female voice cut into their conversation. "Did you say twelve on Sunday, Hermione?"
"Oh, hey Ginny. And, yeah I did, why?"
"Me too." The newly elected fifth-year prefect grinned.
Her brother did not. Ron was glowering at their schedules. "I don't have a single shift with you! And," he made a snarling sound, "You've got one with Malfoy."
Ginny rolled her eyes before shooting Hermione an impish smile and setting off down the corridor.
Ron was still in full rant. "…and your other two are with Anthony Goldstein. Why are all of your partners boys?!"
Hermione tried, without much success, to stop her eyes from rolling and proceeded to pluck Ron's schedule neatly from one of his flailing hands.
"Ron."
"Yes?"
"You've got a twelve o'clock with Padma Patil."
His arms came to a dead stop. "…yeah?"
"You went to the Yule Ball with Padma Patil."
"Hermione, you sound like Luna –"
"Do I look even slightly concerned about the fact that you have a shift with Padma?"
"Well, no, but…"
"And did I go to the Yule Ball with any of those boys?"
Ron's eyes flashed. "No, you went with bloody Kru –" Hermione tilted her head in a menacing sort of way, and he amended quickly. "But… really… if I hadn't… if he hadn't… well… that's not the point. It's different, you patrolling with guys."
Hermione had had enough. She rounded on her fuming boyfriend.
"Ron, do you remember when I said that you were jealous of my relationship with Victor?"
"What does this have to do with –"
"Ron."
"…yes."
"You were wrong then, and you're wrong now."
"Hermione!"
"Ron, do you trust me?"
"Of course I trust you. That's not the –"
…
"Do you plan on kissing me every time I annoy you?"
"Do you plan on kissing me every time I annoy you?"
Ron smiled. "Hermione?"
"Yes?"
His voice rose in a very bad imitation of hers. "You've got dirt on your nose, did you kno–"
From the author: I was at camp, but now am back and getting ready for my first year of university. Which means I'm both busy and terrified. Once I'm settled in, though, you'll be seeing updates more frequently. Sorry I've kept you waiting this long!
Dead Lenore: I don't deserve a reviewer like you. Especially when I don't update for over two months. In gratitude, a bit of information: (1) This fic might not stay completely "lighthearted." And, (2) about Ron, I'm trying to keep him as IC as possible; he's thought being in a relationship through very thouroughly, but when things stop going "as he planned," you might see a bit more of the characteristics you don't like in him. Also, Hermione"s inner dialogue is actually easier for me write; it moves the story along quickly - you might have noticed that I progresses SLOWLY otherwise - but I think I've neglected character description in doing so, so I tried to include both in this chapter. I hope it works alright. In any case, thank you, thank you, thank you. Again. (is going to a comic book store after this)
Artemis MoonClaw: (bites lip) Is that good or bad?
