In response to reader Emerika: I doubt this fic will turn out the way that you don't want it to. Double negatives. w00t. I know that sounds confusing, but I want to maintain some aura of mystery and suspense . . . lol. Thanks for reviewing.
BLLLLLAAAHHH mmk
Hermione was slightly discouraged. The utter failure of yesterday's attempt to win over Harry had left her reluctant to start over.
But hey, it was a new day and it was the morning! And Hermione loved mornings! She loved them almost as much as she loved Pokemon! And boy did she love Pokemon! She had never told anyone that, though, of course! You know what else she loved? Excessive punctuation!.!.!.!.!.!.!.!.!
As she waited for Harry and Ron at the bottom of the stairs, as was her daily routine, Hermione formed plan after plan. However, she was unable to think of anything even remotely feasible, and found herself discarding every plan she made as soon as she made it.
Well, Ron was a bit of a spaz. She supposed she would just have to 'play it by ear' . . . although she wasn't quite sure what that meant. Stupid American euphemisms.
". . . And guess what else?" Ron was telling Seamus as he walked down the stairs with him and Dean. "Harry let me touch his broom!"
"Did you ride it?" Seamus asked in awe.
"Yeah, it was the best ride I've ever had, pretty much! I mean, it just rose right up, all I had to do was hold on," Ron responded excitedly.
Hermione rolled her eyes. Boys and their brooms. Did they ever think about anything else?
Ron said bye to the other two boys and came over to Hermione. She asked him where Harry was.
"He's not feeling so good," Ron explained. "He was up all last night, he's tired. He'll come down later, maybe, he said."
Hermione did not care about the reason of Harry's absence – all she could think about was how much easier this would be without Harry around. Talk about luck!
Ron continued to blabber about brooms or Quidditch or some such useless entity all the way out of the common room, down the corridor, and into the Great Hall. When he paused to take a breath, Hermione seized her opportunity.
"I wonder how Harry's feeling," she said with relatively fake concern. "It looks as though we might be alone this evening, Ronald. Since Harry's not feeling well."
Ron nodded his agreement, unable to talk due to the seven pounds of bacon occupying his mouth. He swallowed with great difficulty and said, "We can do that bloody Potions essay that's due tomorrow," and began to complain about how unfair Snape was.
Hermione forced herself to look interested while she carefully chose her next words.
"Well, Ron," she said in as sultry a voice as she could manage, "maybe that's not all we can do this evening."
His brows furrowed into an exasperated expression. "Hermione, our Herbology diagram's not due 'til Thursday!"
Hermione restrained herself from rolling her eyes with extreme difficulty.
"That's not what I meant, Ron, you idiot!" she heard herself saying.
Ro's expression turned to one of an indignant tomato. "Why are you always so bloody mean to me?" he asked angrily. "You fawn all over Harry and then you call me an idiot. You never say anything nice to me! All you ever do is take the mickey out of me. I'm going to find Harry." And with that impassioned declaration, he stomped dramatically out of the Great Hall.
Hermione followed a few minutes later when the bell rang for first period. Harry was not there either, and even though se sat next to Ron, she could not get a word out of him all period. When the bell rang for the end of the period, he left without saying a word. He sulked for the entire rest of the day. Hermione found herself thinking, Ron is such a girl! but she immediately banished these thoughts as imprudent.
When she finally entered the common room at the end of the day (alone, as Ron had avoided her all day), she found Ron waiting for her. He said, "Erm, Hermione, I'm sorry I had a fit before."
She said, "It's all right, Ron."
"So . . ."
Hermione waited. Was this it? Was this the moment when Ron would express his passionate undying love for her? It must be, it must be! What else could it ―
". . .Will you help me with the Potions essay?"
Hermione sighed, disappointed. I should have known, she reflected. "Again, Ron? Merlin, can't you do anything by yourself?"
Ron looked alarmed. "Please, Hermione. Harry's still unwell so I can't ask him. Please! I'll do anything. What do you want?"
Hermione looked Ron in the eye.
"You," she said with utmost sincerity.
Ron looked confused. "What?"
"I want you," she reiterated. "You, Ron! I want YOU!" She rushed over to him and grabbed his robes.
Ron looked disgusted. He brushed Hermione's hand off. "Forget it, Hermione. If you're just going to make fun of me more, I'll do it myself. You could have just refused to help, you know. You didn't have to take the mickey out of me." He went up the stairs to his dormitory.
Hermione stood stock-still, stunned. Ron was such a git! He took everything as an insult! Why had she even wasted her time on him?
At least it hadn't turned out disastrously, like it had with Harry.
Hermione put her face in her hands. This picking-up-guys business was harder than it looked.
With a sigh, she let her dream of Ron go. It was time to move on.
Time for Seamus Finnigan.
