I don't even know what this is. Pls don't ask me. I don't know.

Thanks as always to Bex (DobbyRocksSocks) for the help and support. This fic goes out to a special llama kiddo I love very much. Please don't judge me for whatever this nonsense is, llama kiddo.

Assignment 4: Llama Education

Task 1 - Drama Llama - This is when an individual causes drama - write about a dramatic person

Summary: Ron annoys Hermione. Hermione retaliates. Harry gets caught in the middle. Also, there are llamas.

Word Count: 2487 words

"You can tell us, Mione. It's Zabini, isn't it?"

Hermione lets out an absent sound, her eyes resolutely glued to the worn pages of her thick NEWT textbook. "For the last time, Ron, I'm not answering that."

"C'mon, why not? Zabini's the bloke, yeah? It was him you were with last night."

"I wasn't with anybody last night."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

Hermione flicks Ron in the meat of his arm with that rebuttal, still not taking her eyes off her textbook. Offended, Ron flicks her on the back of the neck. She catches his palm in mid-air and almost bites the tip of his finger off. He squeaks his surprise—which is a perfectly manly reaction to have, Ron would later defend himself when the rest of the Gryffindors in their dorm teased him about it, if a crazy broad went straight for your hand with those razor-sharp finger-biting teeth of hers.

"Oi!" says Harry, who is in the unfortunate position of being caught in the middle of them both. He fends off stray elbows before they jam into his stomach again, and spits out a stubborn mouthful of bushy hair. "Stop pulling me into your fights, guys. Why am I the one getting knocked around?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Harry! Did I hurt you?"

"Blimey, mate," Ron adds, slapping him on the back in apology. "Step out of the way next time, will ya?"

Harry glares back mildly. "That's a fine apology right there, it is."

"I agree. That's really insensitive, Ron."

"No, what's insensitive is that you're still not willing to admit that you were snogging Zabini in the Astronomy Tower after curfew last night."

"Honestly, Ronald."

Irritated, Hermione glances up from her book for one fleeting second, taking in Ron's smug smile and the underlying insecurity he hides beneath his gaze. She decides she doesn't want to deal with it today.

"Stop it, really," she mumbles, shoving him one final time. "NEWTs start in two weeks, and you haven't even cracked open your book yet. Why don't you focus your energies on rectifying that instead of going on and on about my so-called boyfriend?"

"Aha! So you admit you're snogging someone."

"I'm not snogging anybody." Hermione's face grows red at the very thought. "Now shut up and let me study, or I'll hex you."

"You'd never," Ron decides, grinning. "You love me too much to mess with my pretty face."

"Yeah, you're a real looker," she retorts sarcastically. The fiery blush that spreads to her nose before she buries it in her book says otherwise.

Ron smiles to himself, satisfied, and shuts up.

The morning summer sun beats down on the Gryffindors as they stroll through the Hogwarts grounds, ambling towards the cooler waters of the lake. Hermione has taken it upon herself to make use of the precious minutes being wasted in transporting themselves from the castle to the lakeside by obsessively reciting Charms passages from the book and narrowly bumping into every bush and rock in her path. She's a hazard to herself.

Personally, Ron likes her the way she is. Absent-mindedness and all. It gives him an excuse to be useful. If he wasn't around to steer her safely past the obstacles, Hermione would have taken a header down the grassy slope and plopped right into the lake, and it would get her book all wet. She wouldn't like that one bit.

It feels nice to be needed. But the thing is, if Zabini really is sniffing around Hermione like Ron suspects he is, it won't be long before the Slytherin ponce is the one doing all the little things Ron does for her now. And soon, he won't be needed anymore. And that will suck.

"Mione?"

Hermione takes an irritated breath. "Yes, Ron?"

"If you are, in fact, snogging Zabini…"

"Oh, mate, not again," Harry groans, but it's already too late. Hermione's temper has been sparked.

"Ron! That's it. I warned you."

She swishes her wand at him with an angry jab. Instinctively, Ron ducks.

Behind Harry.

"Oi!" the poor Boy Saviour exclaims again, before the jet of soft purple magic hits him and envelopes him in a cloud of sparkly lavender smoke.

Ron gapes at the furry white creature that stands in its place.

"Bloody hell, Hermione," he finally remarks, far more composed than he thinks he should sound, "you turned Harry into a wingless hippogriff. A fluffy, wingless hippogriff."

Harry the Fluffy Wingless Hippogriff stares down at his black fur, wearing a look of mild consternation. His coke-bottle glasses are still perched on his jutting snout—recently Reparoed and without its frequent spellotape wrapping at the bridge, thankfully not making this already bizarre sight even more so. They glint gold in the morning light, and glint again when Harry attempts to shake them off his face.

Hermione spins around and claps a hand over her mouth, almost dropping her book in the process. "Oh, Harry! Merlin, I didn't mean to hit you. Oh, did the spell hurt you? I'm so sorry!"

Harry stomps a foot and twists his long neck in Hermione's direction, looking quite lost. How Ron can read the look on his furry best mate's face, he honestly doesn't know. In this form, Harry has a resting face that just always looks affronted.

"He's a hippogriff, Hermione," Ron points out again, fairly flabbergasted by now. "And you didn't even give him wings."

Hermione rolls her eyes at him, still busy checking Harry for bruises or wounds. Harry seems terrified by the pat down. "It's a llama, Ron. I saw them sight-seeing when my parents took me to Bolivia, the summer before fourth year. They're really sweet creatures."

A loud shriek is emitted in the distance, startling them all. "OH SALAZAR, A CURSED HIPPOGRIFF!"

Ron squints down at a trio of figures down by the lake, locking in on the flailing platinum blond in the middle. "Oh, blimey, it's Malfoy. Harry, it's Malfoy."

Harry stomps his foot again, looking pointedly at Ron in a way that said, 'I have eyes, mate.'

"NO, I WON'T CALM DOWN!" comes more shrieking. "PANSY, LOOK AT THAT THING! ARE YOU CRAZY? GRANGER CURSED A BLOOMING HIPPOGRIFF!"

"Oh, for the love of… He's a llama!" Hermione exclaims back, loud enough for her voice to travel down to the lake. "And it's just Harry! Get over here and see for yourself."

"What the—Hermione!" Ron bursts out, chagrined. "Don't invite the ponce over. We see enough of him already."

Hermione glares back. "That boy will go straight to Headmistress McGonagall if we don't nip this in the bud right now. I'm not dealing with any of this so close to the NEWTs."

"We're Eighth Years! We're allowed to use magic outside the classroom!"

"I invented that spell, Ron. What do you think McGonagall will make of it?"

"Of course you invented it." Ron sighs, because he should have expected that. Ugh. "It's a bloody shame that Malfoy's gotten over his fear for authority. We should do something to fix that, by the way. Scare the pants off him bad enough that he'll be too terrified to even breathe around the professors."

Hermione's glare is positively flaying. "If you're dreaming up a repeat of the Vanishing Cabinet incident, Ronald, I swear, I will literally kill you."

Even Harry looks offended. Which is impressive, considering it's already his natural resting face.

Ron raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! Bad joke."

Merlin. A bloke can't even have some good old fashioned fun at a Slytherin's expense anymore. It's a hard knock life around these parts these days.

Finally, Draco Malfoy and his posse climb up the slope towards them. Malfoy looks wary as all hell by the sight of Harry, which secretly brings Ron far more joy than it should. Zabini looks bored, like he always does, and Parkinson, on the other hand, just looks done.

"It's not going to bite your face off, Draco," the short-haired brunette says tiredly, pushing Malfoy the last few steps towards Harry. "It's about time you get over this thing you have against hippogriffs. It's so inconvenient."

Malfoy narrows his eyes at Harry, inspecting him carefully. Still, he has one booted foot poised backwards, clearly on the verge of scuttling back at the slightest twitch from the tall ball of fluff.

"Well, you're wearing those atrocious glasses, which means you're obviously him," the blond finally drawls. "No animal on the planet will voluntarily let those ghastly things sit on their face. They're a crime against living things. But how do I know you're really Potter, Potter?"

In response, Harry extends a sassy pink tongue and promptly licks Malfoy's face.

Malfoy wastes no time in scrambling back. "Potter! You're not allowed to molest me in this form. Bad hippogriff."

Ron shares the sentiment. He doesn't want to watch his best mate feel up Malfoy either. He sees enough of that in the Eighth Year common room.

"For the last time," Hermione groans, "he is a llama."

Malfoy raises an eyebrow. "And pray tell, Granger, what's the difference? They both look equally cursed to me."

Hermione shoots him one of her patented 'are you kidding?' looks. Draco, as usual, remains unaffected. "Well, they're completely different species, for one. Llamas are also very muggle, while hippogriffs are very much not. Llamas don't have wings, or feathers. Also, they're adorable. Hippogriffs are adorable too, but only in Hagrid's eyes."

Ron smirks, feeling something inside him light up as the word adorable sinks into his chest. "You were going to hex me into something you thought was adorable?"

Hermione grows firetruck red again. "W-Well, I figured you'd need the help in that department if I were ever to forgive you."

Harry lets out a sound that sounds suspiciously like a snicker.

Parkinson and Zabini look on with interest. "Are you and Weasley on the outs again, Hermione?" asks the dark-skinned Italian in his smarmy voice. Ron itches to tell him to piss off, but he doesn't want to make Hermione mad.

"No," Malfoy replies absently before Ron gets the chance to shut down Zabini's self-serving line of thought. He's slowly inching closer to Harry again, reaching out a finger to poke at his soft black fur. "It's Granger and Weasley. They're always like this. They'll be sticking to each other like glue within the hour, no doubt." His gaze darts up to Harry, almost in commiseration. "They fight about the nuttiest things, too. Don't they, Potter?"

Harry nods miserably.

"I know, love," Malfoy hums, petting his neck lightly. "You know this is not something I use lightly, Potter, but… you're actually a saint for dealing with those two imbeciles for all these years. I don't know how you do it. I'd have bashed their heads together and told them to kiss and get it over with by… oh, third year, probably."

Ron lets out a choked sound. He can feel his own cheeks heating up this time, and he doesn't like where this is going.

Harry snuffles into Malfoy's neck with a soft, sing-songy hum that strangely sounds mocking.

"Oh, I know," Malfoy responds, somehow understanding him. Ron doesn't know what's happening anymore. Not that he ever does, where Malfoy is involved. "I know it'd come back to bite me on the arse if I forced them together. I can see why you didn't want to. But honestly, would it really make you want to strangle them more once they start snogging all over the place, or would them being lovey dovey and disgusting actually be less irritating than whatever all this is? Think about it."

Harry pauses, cocks his head, and then snuffles into Malfoy's neck again. Ron is definitely choking now. He's choking on air and stupefaction.

"I know I'm right," Malfoy croons, primly adjusting the glasses on Harry's nose. "I always am." He turns around to face Ron and an equally startled Hermione. "Oi, you heard what Harry said. Kiss each other and say your 'I love you's already, you dingbats. Put us all out of our misery."

"Uhhh…" Ron replies very intelligently.

Zabini makes an impatient noise. "How thick are you, Weasley? Draco couldn't have made it more obvious. If you think I spent a whole year being Hermione's Runes partner and listening to her rant the hours away about you for nothing, think again. I've been plotting out what to poison your morning pumpkin juice with for months. The only reason I haven't done it yet is because it's not as satisfying when you don't know what I'm seeking revenge from you for."

"Uhhhh," Ron says again just as intelligently. "Thank you… for your consideration…?"

"Godric, Ron." For the first time since Malfoy opened his fat mouth, Ron lets his gaze drift towards Hermione. But when he turns towards her, he finds that she is already flying towards him, her eyes wild with desperation. "Just kiss me, you idiot."

In the eight years they've been friends, Ron has learned not to question Hermione's orders. So he doesn't.

He kisses her.

When they both come up for air, Ron's face feels as fiery as the Weasley-red mop atop his head. His head is dizzy, his mouth is tingling, and his chest feels almost uncomfortably tight. But these wonderful new sensations are incomparable with the way Hermione's face glows, still mere inches from his, the smile on her lips so decidedly happy that Ron knows that there is only one way this will go.

And he has no qualms about it.

"Oi! Oi, Granger," comes a miffed, acerbic voice from somewhere to their right, bringing Ron back to the baffling reality where his best friend is a llama. "It's all well and good that you're sucking face now, and I promise I'll let you get back to it when we're done with this conversation, but I'd very much like you to change my boyfriend back to a human before you two get busy."

Hermione bites her lip, still grinning. Ron wants to glare at Malfoy for interrupting their moment, but he's struggling to tear his eyes away from her.

"There's no counter-curse, you just have to wait it out," she tells the blond absently, still gazing at Ron with that soft grin. "Twenty minutes, max."

Ron leans in to kiss that smile off her face again. "Wanna ditch studying for a little while and head back to the castle?"

Hermione laughs fondly. "Fine, but you're only getting out of studying this time. These are special circumstances."

"Oh, it's special, alright," Ron quips, slipping an arm around her and leading her back towards the castle. Behind them, Harry lets out a long, drawn out hum that sounds distinctly relieved.

"No, wait. Granger. Granger!" They ignore Draco. "Granger, what on earth do I do with a four-eyed, wingless hippogriff for the next twenty minutes?"

"… Oh, for Merlin's sake. He's a llama!"