Author's Notes: I realized that I'd forgotten to insert a disclaimer, so here's one now. I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling and her publishing company. Etc. etc.

Dillying with Lavender +

by Jen Ann Bradley

-----

In the morning after the disaster with Ginny, Ron came down to breakfast with a mission to make Hermione Granger suffer. His plan had been the result of long hours of arduous thinking, and he was more than ready to put it into effect. However, once he entered the Great Hall and saw her dutifully remove her books from his seat to welcome him, Ron nearly abandoned his resolution. Out of habit, Ron began to delve into his favorite morning fantasy of having Hermione kiss him good morning. When he found it tainted by the idea of smelling Krum's breath on her lips, Ron remembered his intent to give her the full silent treatment.

Thus, Ron managed a sneer as he approached the customary table, before taking the seat by Harry and ignoring Hermione's obvious invitation. Once again, however, he almost relented when he saw what might have been confusion and hurt cross her pretty face. Then again, it was nice to see she cared enough to look hurt. Ron decided to let her suffer for a while. Besides, it was also possible that he had misinterpreted Hermione's expression and that she actually didn't care whether he was angry or not.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, quietly, confirming his suspicions that she didn't care enough to ask him what was wrong.

"Fine," he snapped, afraid that if he said anything more he'd say something nice and ruin his plan.

"Oh. That's good," she replied. "Could you pass the oatmeal?" she asked, politely after a moment's pause.

"It's closer to Harry, why don't you ask him?"

Hermione just stared at him, her beautiful chin quivering, and said nothing. Ron tried not to notice, but relented long enough to pass her the oatmeal. He practically shoved it into her hands.

"Here, take it," he said gruffly. "I'm not hungry."

Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but Ron saw it and knew he'd brought on a storm. "Well," she fumed, "You had better eat something because after Transfiguration, you'll be positively exhausted from all that copying off other peoples' notes."

Ron looked at her with all the venom he could muster.

"Er…" stammered Harry from beside him. "What's gotten into you, Ron?" he asked, although Ron was certain he already knew. After all, he'd been there when Ginny had said what she'd said about Krum. Harry was suing for peace.

Unfortunately for Harry, war had started and Ron simply wouldn't let it go. "Nothing," he said, sarcastically, "Hermione was just looking out for my well-being. Weren't you, Hermione?"

She stared back at him, obviously trying to figure out if this translated to an insult. Ron mentally dared Hermione to admit she'd been heckling him, but after a moment of silence, she turned back to her plate. Finally, she scooped a spoonful of oatmeal onto the platter and shoved the bowl right back at him without saying another word.

Ron hissed with frustration. Why wasn't she acknowledging that he was angry? She was supposed to ask so he could tell her why he was behaving this way. He couldn't just say what he'd heard about her and Viktor. She'd deny it and get angry when he accused her of lying, and then this whole mess would look like his fault.

"So, gotten any letters lately?" sniped Ron, knowing she'd automatically think of Krum.

But Hermione merely gaped at him. She let out a surprised and airy, "No —"

Ron hadn't quite expected the "no," so he backed down and remained silent for the remainder of the meal. He recognized when Hermione wasn't going take the bait. He would have to regroup, but he was determined to make her understand.

-----

Ron treated Hermione with cold indifference for the rest of the morning, which was surprisingly much harder to do than it had been when they were younger. He found that he had gotten accustomed to her constant presence and missed it when she was gone. Sometimes when he had planned to be angry, he kept quiet so she would stay near. Ron also felt that Hermione had become accustomed to his temper and was not so easily frightened away as before. However, this in itself was irksome. After all, if she'd gotten used to his temper, that must mean she thought he was some sort of temperamental freak, who had to be treated differently from other people. Hermione must have trained herself to tiptoe around him like a gamekeeper would tiptoe around a dragon or bow before a hippogriff. What rubbish! Hadn't she ever tried asking him what was wrong? Then she'd see how amicable he could be.

Ron was pondering all of this in between their afternoon classes, as he stood by one of the windows of an alcove in the wing of the castle overlooking the great lake. It was the brightest time of day—and the water was shimmering under the midday sun—when Hermione came to join him. He was standing to one side of the window, leaning against the wall of the alcove, and she mimicked his posture on the opposite side. For a while neither of them did anything other than watch the last leaves of the season drift to the earth below. However, it was scenic and romantic, and Ron didn't want to be there with Hermione while he was supposed to be angry with her. Unfortunately, he could not count on Harry to come rescue him, for Harry had gone to the infirmary to check on Katie Bell.

Meanwhile, Hermione was watching him with her books secured against her chest, covered primly by her school robes. She exhaled, which caused an errant lock of hair to blow upwards and fall back against her mouth. She lifted a hand to swipe it behind her ear and smiled, her bright eyes sparkling with contentment. "What a beautiful day," she announced.

Ron wondered why she'd said it. She must have figured out by now that he was angry with her. It was difficult to remain angry, but he didn't know any other way to make her understand how hurt he was. So Ron chose to ignore her in the hopes that she would ask him what was wrong. Hermione did not ask, unfortunately. Instead, she peered up at him with a curious, questioning look in her eyes and didn't utter another word for a long time. Ron wondered if she would ever care.

"I noticed Lavender staring at you in class," she said at length.

Ron considered this piece of information. "Oh yeah?" he asked, then felt irritated that she'd tricked him into speaking. "Maybe she saw something she liked."

Hermione went into a pout, like she usually did whenever he said something silly in class. Ron took it to mean she didn't see what anyone could like in him. Even more perplexing was that her whole demeanor seemed to imply that she blamed him for Lavender. Ron knew this couldn't possibly be his fault. In the end, he pushed away from his post at the wall, feeling even more injured than before.

"See you in class," he said, dismissively. Then he trudged off in the other direction. After abandoning Hermione by the window, Ron stalked all the way back to the Gryffindor Common Room and slammed the portrait shut behind him. Once inside, Ron discovered Lavender Brown on the couch, giggling with Parvati.

"Hey Ron!" Lavender called after he had he entered, undaunted by his gloomy expression. Ron wondered at this, and for decency's sake he tried to look happy and think of something nice to say; but mostly he just wanted to go sulk in his room.

"Hi Lavender," was all Ron mustered before continuing to his room. When he reached the bed, Ron collapsed on top with a dismal flop. He tried to cheer himself up. He even tried to conjure up the image of Hermione smiling at him in his mother's kitchen, but all this did was produce the vivid memory of Hermione dancing with Krum.

Ron sat up and removed his shoes, thinking very hard about skipping potions, but knowing he'd never hear the end of it if he did. But maybe, just maybe if he wished hard enough, he could make himself disappear from the planet.

Everybody would be better off. Harry could recruit McLaggen. Ginny could snog Dean. Hermione could have more time to do her own homework.

He heard the sound of girlish laughter from far across the hall and thought of Lavender Brown smiling at him when he'd walked into the common room.

I saw Lavender staring at you in class.

Huh. Come to think of it, Ron remembered seeing a lot of Lavender recently. She was omnipresent, in fact, and always smiling. She always had a greeting ready for him and never failed to laugh at his jokes. Slowly, in his darkest hour, it dawned on Ron that Lavender Brown might fancy him. It was possibly the first time a girl ever liked him, so Ron tried to savor the idea. However, he felt flattered, but no happier than before.

At the end of the day Lavender was still Lavender, and Ron hadn't ever fancied her. Although, he had to admit she was pretty. She did smell nice, and her eyes were interesting…and very kind. She always laughed at his jokes. The only thing that seemed to be wrong with Lavender was that she wasn't Hermione; and Ron wasn't so sure anymore that this was a bad thing.

-----

Ron's bad mood did not improve in the evening. Especially when Quidditch Practice turned into another fiasco. Once again, Ron failed miserably as Keeper. He couldn't manage to block a single Quaffle, even when the entire team took pity on him and started hitting easy ones that arched slowly and came directly to his hands.

Even Ginny, who normally hit the Quaffle as if she had a vendetta against it, sent Ron an easy one. But when Ron watched it whiz behind him and through the hoop, he couldn't bear it anymore.

Unable to mask his crying by any other means, Ron began to shout at the Chasers. "What kind of Quidditch are you playing!" he taunted them. "That wasn't even worthy of being stopped!"

He waited for Ginny to call him on his bluff, but to his relief (or dismay, he was unsure which it was) she shook her head at him and flew to the other end of the pitch with not so much as a "pooh pooh."

Demelza and the Beaters remained behind, but Ron knew he'd be unable to block their shots with his pathetic skill, so he chased them away from the goal. When there was no one to chase, he jeered at them.

"Keep on your own bloody side or the referee will call a foul," screamed Ron, glowering at Demelza. "If you keep on like this, Demelza, I swear you're going to lose the next match all on your own!"

Ron could only be so daring when Ginny was on the other side of the pitch. He knew that Ginny would have struck him in response to a challenge like that. However, Demelza seemed to have a quieter disposition and to be more inclined to believe what other people said of her. After he threw another insult her way, Ron suddenly realized she was crying.

"Oh stop that wheezing or I'll hit you in the mouth again," scoffed Ron, incapable of admitting he'd gone too far.

"You shut up and leave her alone!" shouted Peakes, brandishing his bat.

Ron started towards him but was stopped by a very angry looking Harry, coming from Ginny's direction. "ENOUGH!" he shouted before barking directions to everyone and ending the practice. They all scattered, but not before throwing well-aimed glares in Ron's direction. He even thought he'd heard someone shout, "That prat! Who does he think he is?"

Ron waited for them all to leave so he could apologize to Harry for ruining practice yet again. But before he had the chance, Harry looked at him square in the face and said, "Ron, you're my best mate, but carry on treating the rest of them like this and I'm going to kick you off the team."

Ron's first instinct was to punch Harry for his defection, but he managed to control himself. Perhaps it was because his depression was, at this moment, outweighing his anger; but somehow, even amidst the red haze of his anger, Ron knew he couldn't strike Harry. What Harry had said was fair enough, and it was a testament to their good friendship that he hadn't said it before in front of the others. It was a horrible thing to do, lashing out at one's teammates because you were rubbish yourself. Ron felt the most honorable thing to do was to bow out. "I resign," he said, "I'm pathetic."

"You're not pathetic and you're not resigning!" said Harry, grabbing hold of him in his predictably loyal way. "You can save anything when you're on form, it's a mental problem you've got!"

"You calling me mental?" Ron sputtered.

"Yeah, maybe I am!"

They glared at each other, but Ron felt the tears coming in behind his eyes and knew he had to get away fast. "I know you haven't got any time to find another Keeper, so I'll play tomorrow," he offered. "But if we lose, and we will, I'm taking myself off the team."

With that, Ron slunk away to Gryffindor Tower in order to have a manly cry before dinner. But as he climbed past the portrait he once again ran into a smiling Lavender Brown. Ron was tempted to ignore her until he remembered that she fancied him. In fact, she was probably the only person in Gryffindor that he could say welcomed his presence right now. Feeling glad for her enthusiasm to see him, Ron returned her smile and inquired after her day.

"Oh, it was good!" she said, and if she were surprised at his sudden kindness, she didn't show it. "I tried out a non-verbal spell this morning to make my finger nails grow and it worked."

Ron nodded, blankly. "Sounds neat."

"Oh, hardly," she said with a giggle. "I bet you've done tons more interesting spells. Hermione probably teaches you new things all the time."

"Hermione doesn't teach me anything," he snapped, instantly defensive at the mention of Hermione. His shortness seemed to please Lavender.

"Oh?" she said, her feminine voice turning upward in pleasure. "Too bad for her, then, isn't it?"

Ron felt his brow furrow. He was fairly certain this was flirting, but he wasn't very good at it if it was. It made him nervous, but at least he didn't feel like crying anymore. This strange encounter had cheered him up. But as he'd run out of things to say, Ron decided the best thing to do would be smile at Lavender and depart, leaving an aura of mystery behind him.

So he did.

Thirty minutes later, Ron realized he was about to wreck his aura mystery when he appeared on the steps to go down to dinner and found Lavender waiting for him by the portrait. Without thinking why he did it, Ron veered backwards so he could hide behind the banister. Unfortunately, this caused him to trip on the steps.

Lavender didn't notice because she seemed to have given up waiting and was exiting the door when Ron looked up a second time. However, Hermione, who had just been coming down the stairs leading up to the girls' dormitories, did see his tumble and laughed.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and then looked up to see Lavender's ample backside disappearing through the painting. Her expression turned accusatory when she faced him.

Ron scowled at her, refusing her offer to help him back to his feet. He didn't see why Hermione had to witness every single calamity that befell him.

"How was practice?" she asked.

Ron ignored her as he brushed himself off. "Don't ask," he said, cool as ice.

"Oh," she said. "All right, then."

They continued to the Great Hall in stony silence. Toward the end of their journey, Hermione started to say, "What did I —"

But Ron didn't feel like talking to her about Harry or homework or "the Prince" or Slughorn, which was all she ever talked about. He quickened his step in order to get away and didn't bother holding the door open for her as he strutted into the dining area.

After a lousy dinner and an even lousier dessert, Ron didn't see Hermione again until after breakfast the next morning, at which point he was feeling so glum about the Slytherin match that he wouldn't even attempt a smile for his only admirer.

He pointedly ignored Lavender when she shouted words of encouragement to the back of his head. Ron preferred to stare at the table. Besides, once she saw his miserable performance today, he could guarantee she'd never say anything at him ever again

To make matters worse, Hermione wasn't at his section of the table where he could most conveniently try to make her feel like a Flobberworm. She was off somewhere talking to other people instead of here to wish him good luck. Even though he was angry with her, Ron felt he could use a kiss on the cheek or a kind word from Hermione. At the moment, he was beginning to forget why he was angry at all. However, when she finally appeared to inquire how he and Harry were both doing, Ron found it easy to remember.

"How are you both feeling," she asked from behind him without a modicum of enthusiasm.

"Fine," Harry replied. Ron considered grunting an answer after Harry nudged him. However, when Ron looked down he saw that Harry was not telling him to be nice to Hermione. Instead, he was handing him his glass of pumpkin juice. "There you go, Ron. Drink up," he said.

Ron thought it was a bit odd for Harry to hand him his pumpkin juice, when he was perfectly capable of reaching for it himself. Surely Harry didn't believe he was so pathetic that he couldn't even eat his breakfast without aid.

What happened next clarified the situation. "Don't drink that, Ron!" barked Hermione.

"Why not?" Ron asked, wheeling around to find Hermione glaring lightning bolts at Harry.

"You just put something in that drink," she accused him.

"Excuse me?" Harry said.

"You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron's drink. You've got the bottle in your hand right now!"

Ron heard the word 'bottle' and realized what was happening. His best mate had just handed him the key to success. Harry had put Felix felicis in his pumpkin juice! Ron didn't care that it was illegal. Harry was his savior. No more humiliation! No more fear!

"Ron, I warn you, don't drink it!" threatened Hermione behind him. But Ron figured whatever she was threatening to do to him wouldn't matter once he took the potion. In fact, if he took the it, maybe he'd be lucky enough to make her admit that she was a bossy know-it-all, who stabbed her friends in the back by kissing Bulgarian cavemen and lying to them about it!

He downed it like a shot of Firewhisky. "Stop bossing me around, Hermione," he said, smacking his lips to punctuate his point.

However, Hermione wasn't looking at him like she was sorry. Her mouth was hanging open, and she regarded him with disappointment and shame. Ron didn't feel very lucky, and decided that maybe Harry hadn't put anything in his pumpkin juice at all.

It was only after they got to the changing room and discovered that both Malfoy and Vaisey had called off that Ron began to believe again. Harry didn't verify his suspicions, but Ron knew he couldn't in front of the rest of the team. However, once the match started and Ron saved his first Quaffle, a difficult shot at a sharp angle that came zooming at his left arm, Ron knew the truth.

And by his fifth save, Ron Weasley could have believed he had wings.

-----

Gryffindor won by a landslide. What else could have happened with the Felix Felicis on their side? It had been inevitable. And it didn't matter to Ron that he couldn't have made those saves all on his own. What mattered is that everyone thought he could, and that they had cheered for him during the game and currently were hugging him, slapping him on the back like an old war comrade, no matter that he'd bellowed at them so fiercely the day before. They were practically hauling him by the arm toward the changing room so they could rush back to the tower and celebrate.

Nothing could ruin this moment. Not even if Snape were to appear in the changing room with a detention slip would Ron feel that the day's glory had diminished.

This was one day he'd remember forever.

But of course, that was when Hermione appeared. Ron watched her poke her head into the changing room, checking right and left to see if they were alone, her, him and Harry. When she entered he saw that she was somber and fearful and was indulging her nervous habit of twisting her scarf. Ron braced himself, knowing that if nothing else could ruin his mood, Hermione could. After all, he noted bitterly, Hermione could succeed at everything.

"I want a word with you, Harry. You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, it's illegal."

"What are you going to do, turn us in?" demanded Ron, remembering the time Hermione had taken tattled on Harry because she thought his broom was cursed. The possibility of being caught had not occurred to him, but Hermione would do it if she thought it was the right thing to do. And it was obvious from her stern countenance that she did, in fact, believe that telling would be the right thing to do.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Harry, playing a very convincing dumb.

"You know perfectly well what we're talking about! You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!"

"No, I didn't," said Harry, still as innocent as can be. Ron, on the other hand, was beginning to sweat. He knew Hermione was serious, and he knew Harry did too. But maybe if Hermione had no proof, she couldn't say anything. Maybe he should stop feeling guilty, because if he didn't then he would look guilty, and then she would know.

"Yes you did, Harry, and that's why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!" she stomped her foot on the ground, looking ready to cry.

"I didn't put it in!" cried Harry, pulling something out of his robes. Ron peered at it, and discovered to his amazement that it was the unopened bottle of Felix Felicis. He knew it was impossible, but Harry was grinning at him. Ron struggled to understand.

"I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking," Harry explained with a laugh. Then Harry looked at Ron as he sputtered with relief and pride.

"You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself," said Harry.

Ron had felt pathetic for so long that at first he couldn't grasp what Harry was saying. He forced him to clarify it several times because, frankly, it was too good to be true! When it sank in at last, Ron couldn't help but rattle Hermione for trying to ruin his moment.

"You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything!" he mimicked her in his best Hermione voice, which included scrunching up his nose and whining so it sounded like someone had just rammed something up her…uh…shirt. If Harry had believed he could save everything, Ron decided that Hermione should have had a little faith as well. "See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!" he exclaimed.

With that, Ron hefted his broomstick up and turned on his heel like a soldier, striding past her as if he were passing an antique tapestry that no one noticed anymore. Ron strutted back to Gryffindor Tower, with his head held high and his broomstick at attention, to meet the cheers of all his housemates. As they slapped him on the back and recounted all of his most spectacular saves, Ron couldn't help but think, Take that, Hermione.

Almost immediately after his entry, Lavender Brown ran up to him out of no where. "Oh Ron, you were wonderful!" she exclaimed, clutching his arm and leading him into the center of the room. She was wearing a low cut shirt, and was herself precisely the correct height so that her bosom brushed against his forearm. Most importantly, if he moved his head an inch to the right, he could peer down into her cleavage.

"Was I?" Ron repeated, distractedly.

"You were brilliant! We all thought so."

Ron grinned like a lunatic. Lavender's dark eyelashes batted up at him. Ron recalled something Hermione once told him about how difficult it was to apply mascara properly, but he shoved the thought away. This was not the time to think about Hermione. And he certainly didn't want to think about Lavender's make-up.

"Oh, it was nothing," he said, deciding to play the reluctant hero.

"Don't be so modest!" exclaimed the girl on his arm. "You've put us in a position to win the cup again. Everyone knows what a good Keeper you are."

Ron felt her finger circling on his chest and wondered how it had gotten there. It didn't feel unpleasant, and it was nice to have a girl fawn on him instead of reprimand him as if he were a pack mule. This had never happened to him before. But even if Lavender had lacked novelty, Ron would still have allowed her to lead him to the sheltered corner of the common room.

Once there, he sat down in the nearest lounge chair, allowing Lavender to choose the arm for her seat. As they sat together, she inched very close. So close, in fact that Ron could smell the scent of her perfume in her clothes. "You know," she murmured. "I've fancied you all term."

"Uh huh…" said Ron, absolutely mesmerized by her pretty brown eyes and the way she was tracing the lines of his chest muscles.

"I think you're the best player on the team. Maybe even better than Harry. All he has to do is chase a little gold ball."

"Uh huh," he replied, leaning closer. Lavender was getting closer too. Ron could make out the little freckles on her nose and the black gunk that had escaped from the corner of her left eye. When Ron felt her minty breath on his lips, images of Ginny exploding as she called him "pathetic" came to mind like a spectacular fireworks display. And when his lips met Lavender's at last, Ron could practically hear Hermione's bossy voice trail off into a gasp.

Lavender's lips were mushier than he'd expected, but the sensation was not altogether unpleasant. He let her do most of the work, until he'd figured out basically what it was all about. She led with her tongue, so he did the same. But all in all it was a lot of work, and Ron might have stopped sooner if not for his resolution to stop being pathetic.

Maybe fifteen minutes into the snog session, Ron remembered that they were kissing in public where anyone might see them, the very thing he had told Ginny not to do! He broke away, scanning the room for Harry or Hermione, hoping Harry hadn't witnessed his hypocrisy. Luckily, he found the coast clear. No one currently in the room would care what Ron Weasley was doing in a corner with Lavender Brown. Most of the Gryffindors were ignoring them, and some had found corners of their own.

"Ron?"

Ron looked back at Lavender and found her pout irresistible. She was upset because he had stopped kissing her. She was upset because she wanted him to do it again! Ron didn't mind kissing her again, but he didn't want to be here where Harry and the other friend might find him.

He smiled and said, "C'mon, let's go somewhere quiet," and he pulled her toward the portrait. As they exited, Lavender stumbled over the step and landed squarely in his arms. Ron laughed as he righted her, and then they both ran hand in hand for the door of the nearest unlocked classroom, which they entered without thinking anyone else might have preceded them.

But someone had gotten there first. Someones, in fact, who were the very people Ron had been trying to avoid.

Ron gawked at Harry and Hermione, who were gawking right back. Harry was standing nearer to the door, while Hermione sat upon the teacher's desk, a flock of transfigured canaries swirling around her head like a halo from Hell.

"Oh," was the only thing he could say, astute enough to see that no greeting in the world was appropriate for this meeting. He felt his heartbeat arrest itself for a full five seconds. It was Hermione's expression that had stopped it. She looked like she was in agony, like he had just sucked out her soul. Ron couldn't look at her any longer. It hurt his vanity to see she was capable of displaying such unabashed pain when he had always told himself that she was incapable of any frailty. It hurt his heart and chest and lungs too. He couldn't feel anything but shame and hung his head low. Lavender abandoned him.

At last it occurred to Ron as he stood there feeling ridiculous, that he was capable of hurting Hermione. It was possible that he had hurt her more than she had hurt him by kissing Krum. Worst of all, he knew that she could only be so hurt if she cared for him as someone more than a friend. Only he hadn't seen fit to recognize her overtures because he hadn't been able to believe her sincere. Knowing this, Ron didn't know what to do or how he could explain himself.

But for all that, Ron still did not entirely feel that he had to explain himself. He had done nothing wrong! How could Hermione expect him to stay faithful to a dream when all she did was spout insults, and when there was a girl just around the corner, who adored him? Lavender was one of a kind. …She was really something else! She was…well…she was… She was just what the doctor ordered, and he didn't have to explain that to anyone!

Ron decided he wouldn't acknowledge Hermione. He wouldn't acknowledge Lavender either. He would just try to wriggle out of this mess as quickly as possible.

"Hi, Harry!" he attempted. "Wondered where you'd gone to!" Harry's expression was unreadable, but he did not lend his hand in extracting Ron from this debacle. He might even have been shaking his head.

Just then, Ron heard Hermione's shoes click on the floor, meaning she'd gotten off the desk. He risked a glance at her and saw that she still had those silly birds twittering around her head. And he knew—because he knew Hermione—that she was going to send those birds to peck out his eyes.

Instead, all she said as she passed him was, "You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside. She'll wonder where you've gone."

Fair enough, thought Ron, still waiting for her attack. He felt confused when it didn't come and looked at Harry to see what his take on the whole situation was.

Then Hermione struck. "Oppugno!" she shrieked, dispatching her birds in V formation to twitter around his head and peck at exposed flesh wherever they could find it.

"Gerremoffme!" Ron waved them away, missing Hermione's exit. She was soon replaced by Lavender, who came running in as Harry was performing the counter curse.

"Oh, my poor Ron," she cooed, kissing the scratches on his head and hands. Ron couldn't help but think her kisses were very unpleasant, seeing as every time she touched him, his scratches stung. He thought about going after Hermione, but the more Lavender kissed him, the more Ron realized he had nothing to say.

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