A/N: Another chapter up! This fic was originally supposed to bea one-shot, but it turned out a little longer than expected. Please tell me what you think! It's pretty short, but... um... oh well. I had a little bit of trouble coming up with a plan C, let me tell you, but that won't happen again. I have planned out several plans in advance. Now I have up to plan E or F, so it won't take nearly so long to update next time. On with the chapter! Hey, I wonder if people are less likely to review if the author seems desperate for reviews... that would be an interesting study to conduct...
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters, titles, etc. In the olden days, they said &c., instead of etc. Sorry, I just thought that was interesting.
Chapter 2
Ron's temporary means of avoiding Lavender was working fairly well, until Harry just had to go and tell him to stop. So much for Plan B, Ron thought dryly. Now he would have to come up with a Plan C… Ron's brain was getting tired. If he kept this up any longer he would soon be done with all 26 letters and into Roman numerals. Ron wondered how old he would be then. Seventy-four, maybe?
It was the day of the big Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch game, and Madam Pomfrey would not even let him watch the game, let alone play. Harry was forced to let McLaggen play Keeper instead of Ron, a fact that Ron was very nervous about. He asked Harry countless times whether or not McLaggen was a decent Keeper, and every time Harry's response was that he kept giving everyone tips on how to play Quidditch, (as if they didn't know already!) and it was driving the whole team mad.
Why isn't he giving me a straight answer? Ron thought frantically. What if that git McLaggen is better than me? What if this is all an evil plot set up by the Death Eaters to get me kicked off the team? What if... Another voice in the back of Ron's head spoke up. Relax, it said. You sound like Hermione before a test. Ron sighed. Hermione, he thought. I love her even more than Quidditch, and that's saying something. Ron bowed his head in a moment of silence, inwardly apologizing to the noble and ancient sport of Quidditch, although he felt no regret.
"Ron? Ron!" Harry said, waving his hand in front of Ron's face. "What are you doing?"
"Oh," Ron said, quickly casting about for an excuse. "I was…er…in mourning. Yeah, that's it, in mourning. It was exactly ten years ago to this day that my poor pet puffeskein was killed by Fred in Bludger practice."
"Right," said Harry suspiciously. "See you after the match."
The Quidditch match proved very amusing to Ron, as he could hear Luna's commentary from his bed. She kept commenting on things completely unrelated to Quidditch and insisted that Zacharias Smith was suffering from "Loser's Lurgy." Ron often laughed out loud, earning disapproving glances from Madam Pomfrey. How he wished he was down in the stands with Hermione, instead of sitting here with a very irritated and unpleasant Madam Pomfrey. He loved Hermione's laugh, it had a sort of ring to it…
Seriously, Ron really needed to get that girl out of his mind. And since that didn't seem like a possibility, now or ever, he decided to compose a Plan C. Yes, Sir Ronald Bilius Weasley would win the fair maiden Hermione's heart if it was the last thing he did!
You've been talking to Sir Cadogan's portrait again, haven't you? the voice in the back of his head commented wryly. Ron would have thrown a shoe at it if it was a solid human being. His sour look caused Madam Pomfrey to stuff a large block of chocolate into his mouth. Ron choked.
"Nice of you to drop in," Ron said as Harry woke up in the hospital wing with a cracked skull, courtesy of Cormac McLaggen. Ron had just finished his masterpiece, Plan C, which covered several rolls of parchment. Plan C was a highly complicated scheme involving a Time Turner, two Blast-Ended Skrewts, and Cornelius Fudge's lime-green bowler hat. Ah, the things people do for love…