The Logic behind the Lateness
A drabble by The Red Haired One
Authors Note: Well, I must say that this is my first stab in the dark for the Good Ship. Which is quite scary, because I can't write Ron. I can't. He is something so uniquely JKR that I can't write him. Anyways...I hope you enjoy this story as I have, and please be careful with it, it's my baby. It's the first story I have ever written of its kind, and I really would like to know your honest opinion of it. So please, review. I came out of the depths of Homework Hell to post this, so I really want to know if its complete crap.
Disclaimer: Nope. I can't write Ron. It's not mine.
Dedication: To...1039 the X, my local radio station. Thanks for the music.
The book wouldn't fit.
She tried moving around the various other text books, scrolls, quills, and ink bottles to fit it in. But it simply wouldn't fit. Once again she tried, stacking the scrolls on top of each other, crushing them, desperately trying to fit this one book—it wasn't even that thick, just 200 pages—into her sack, but it proved hopeless. She blew back a strand of hair that simply fell back into her face as she slipped the book out, tossed the flap over her bag, and hoisted it onto her shoulder, grabbed her book and a lantern, and made her way for the common room.
The path to the common room proved to be very uneventful. Nothing tried to kill her, none of her teachers saw her, no ghosts floated though her. Just her and her books, trying to get to the common room as fast as possible. Mumbling the password, waking up the Fat Lady, she tossed her books on the armchair closest to the fireplace which contained only embers, and plopped herself down on another chair, sighing.
It had been a long night, and Hermione Granger was beat. She looked at her books which she had checked out—abet after hours—and groaned, twisting her hair in her fingers. It was already one in the morning, and the extra credit essay she had told Ron she did ages ago sat on the floor, having slipped out of her bag, less than half-way finished. Even brilliant people can tell white lies, she thought to herself, as she flicked her wand at the fire. The fire roared to life, as she plucked a quill and ink bottle out of her bag, grabbed the book that had caused her so much trouble, and the essay from the floor.
Ten causes for human transformations to go wrong she jotted down, chewing on her lip. She only had five reasons, and she needed five more. Fingering the book, she opened to a random page in the book, and began reading.
A distraction in the environment is often or not the reason for a human transformation to go wrong. In the instance of a transformation where the caster is not the one the spell is being preformed on, a mispronunciation which can be caused by the slightest diversion can prove to be life-threatening…
Hermione sighed. Distractions…she knew all about those. She had one named Ronald Billius Weasley who was proving to be a major thorn in her side, and partly the reason her essay was not finished. She tried to finish her essay, she really did, but she got so distracted by watching his hair glisten by the fire light as he chewed on his thumb as he thought of some amazing strategy for chess, or watching his face contort to strange positions as he quietly whispered curses at whoever had assigned that essay.
She sighed again, and pushed away her essay. It was extra credit anyways, and besides, she wouldn't be in school much longer if the war persisted the way it was. Hermione hated to say it, but it was true. School wouldn't be much use once Death Eaters infiltrated it and destroyed it. Hermione wiped the sleep from her eyes, and left her school work out as she headed up to her dorm, dragging herself away from the fire.
◦◦◦
Ronald Weasley slowly eased himself off the stairs. He had been silently watching Hermione try to work on her extra credit Transfiguration essay, and he knew she was fighting a losing battle. He picked her unfinished one off the floor and looked at it. Whether he knew it or not, Hermione would be crying herself to sleep tonight, reasons indirectly related to him.
Ron sighed, and sat himself in the chair which she had recently occupied, and closed his eyes. He felt horrible. Everyone did. It was a war, and this one was hitting much too close to home. It was wasn't something that happened in a far away place unheard of until a war broke out—no, this war was taking place in their very country, in their towns, in their homes.
°°°
The next day, as everyone rushed out of the Transfiguration classroom, Ron, Harry, and Hermione were making their way out, when Ron stopped. "Hermione, do you want me to turn in your essay for you?" He asked, motioning to his own. She stilled from shuffling round in her bag to hand Harry something.
"Um…"
"Hey, I need to go send someone a letter…I'll catch up with you two later." Harry said as he quickly left the classroom. McGonagall had long gone, saying something about a hot cup of tea, and Hermione let the flap on her bag go.
"Hermione?" Ron asked, holding out his hand. "Do you have your essay?"
"N-no." She said, and she left, leaving Ron standing there, his arm outstretched, holding his own essay. Ron dropped his arm, and placed his essay on the desk, slowly walking out of the classroom, wondering what he had done.
After walking a few steps, he remembered. She never finished it.
Ron, being the noble man he is (which might be shocking), ran back into the classroom. He grabbed the essay, and hastily got out some White Ink and scribbled over his own name, and putting H. Granger in its place. He rolled the essay back up, and ran from the room, hurrying to dinner.
End Notes: Yep, that's it. End of drabble. My friend who happens to be the only other person to read this before I posted it said it was a good beginning, and I was like...that's the whole story...
Anyways, enough with rambling on. Please review!