Chapter The First: Ron

The wind is roaring outside, but the common room is mostly quiet, except for the crackling of the gentle, warming fire and the quiet murmurs of private conversations and discussions about homework. Once every few minutes a strange squeaking sound emerges from a somewhat suspicious group of third years sitting in the corner, but I ignore this, though, as a prefect, I should probably investigate. Hermione would want me to investigate.

My mind is far too occupied. There is an endless stream of thoughts swirling around in here.

Thoughts of her.

There she sits – she isn’t paying attention to the students in the corner, either; unlike me, however, it’s not from lack of desire to do find out what exactly they’re up to; she is much too emerged in her book to even have noticed it.

I wonder what she’s reading – not something for school, I know. The book is much too small. Now that I think about it, she did mention something about Pride and Prejudice. I remember her telling me it’s a Muggle book, about a girl named Elizabeth and a man whom she detests named Mr. Darcy, who despite his original dislike for Elizabeth, just happens to have fallen in love with her, though she isn’t aware of it. I remembered because it reminded me of myself and Hermione.

Hermione detests me, I know she does. And just like Mr. Darcy, despite my original dislike for Hermione, I’ve fallen in love with her.

I asked Hermione if Elizabeth ever returns Mr. Darcy’s feelings, if he ever gets the girl. It would be good news for me if he did. Then I might stand a chance.

“I’m only half-way through the book, Ronald,� she told me. “So I don’t know…�

“Well – do you think he’ll get the girl?�

“I think so,� Hermione had said stiffly. “Though, I’m not sure Elizabeth should be so forgiving to Mr. Darcy, he’s been quite rude to her since they’re first meeting, and he hasn’t done much to make up for it.�

I wasn’t too pleased with this answer. I figure that it’s probably how Hermione feels about me.

So here I am, sitting trying to watch at her without anyone noticing. I think we’re the reason the room is so quiet – we’ve just had another one of our infamous arguments. My own bloody fault, really…

“Hermione – would you help me with my Transfiguration essay?� I had asked, quite innocently I might add.

She looked up from her book.

“When you say ‘help’…�

“I wasn’t paying any attention in class yesterday,� I told her.

“So not only do you have know idea what you’re supposed to be doing due to your own incompetence, but you’ve waited until the last moment to do it, and on top of everything else you’ve decided to ask for my help while I’m busy doing something else…�

“It’s not the last minute, it’s not even eight yet – and I could even be doing it tomorrow at breakfast, but I’ve decided to take a bit of initiative,� I protested. “Besides, you don’t look busy to me.�

“I’m reading!�

“Well, I’m sure that can be put off…� I had said, stupidly.

“No, Ron – it can’t. And you know why – because I would rather read this book than help you with an essay that I’ve already done myself, simply because you’re lazy!�

“But you love doing schoolwork!�

“Is that what you think? You’ve known me for more than five years, and you think I enjoy schoolwork…�

“Yes! You read all your schoolbooks from front to back before we even get to school, you get upset when we get excused from exams, and in third year you took every class that was offered – despite having to request Ministry assistance in order to attend all of them!�

Hermione simply glared at me.

“I might want to do my best Ron – but don’t think I enjoy getting a cramp in my hand from taking down comprehensive notes which I then not only hand over to you, but explain to you when you don’t understand, and then tell you how to write them into an essay which I then EDIT FOR YOU!�

She seemed to have lost her patience with me by the end of her rant, and her angry shout that she finished with brought the common room to a stunned silence.

“So, you don’t want to help me then?� I had said, flashing her an adorable grin. Or what I had thought was adorable grin.

Let’s just say she didn’t react well to that.

So now, I’m sitting here, scribbling on a piece of parchment that is supposed to be my Transfiguration essay, and she’s returned to reading her book. I might ask Harry for help – but he’s gone to Dumbledore’s office, and he’s never in what I’d call a ‘good mood’ when he comes back from Dumbledore’s office. Not since Sirius’s death, at least.

Poor Harry, he’s in a right state, nowadays. I think there’s something he’s hiding from Hermione and me, and I can’t imagine what it could be. He’s always told us everything. Must be pretty bad.

I feel that Harry’s the only thing keeping Hermione and me friends. I mean, the girl must hate me – but she’s decided to be civil to me for Harry’s sake. She’s been much more impatient with me this year than ever before. It all comes to down to her absolute loathing of me, I’d say.

Though there are times when I think that can’t possibly be true. Only two weeks ago she came to me in tears. She was terrified – terrified for her mum and dad, for Ginny, for Harry…

“…and for you, Ron,� she had cried. “I’m just so scared.�

I put my arms around her and held her head of adorably bushy hair to my chest, frightened only that she might hear how fast and hard my heart was thumping.

“Why are you so frightened?� I had asked her softly.

“It’s not going to be over with Sirius, Ron. More people are going to be killed, and they’ll probably be close to us. We’re right at the center of it all…we’ve been lucky so many times. It can’t always be like that…�

She stopped talking for a minute or two, crying.

“And Harry – what Harry must be going through…� she said quietly. “It’s him Voldemort’s after, Ron…�

That was probably it. She had come to me because she couldn’t have possible gone to Harry. But I couldn’t help but think that she wouldn’t have come to me, wouldn’t have let me hold her like that, if she hates me as much as I think she does.

I watch her reading, and I still can’t help but wonder if Mr. Darcy ever gets the girl. I wish I knew. Maybe then I’d know if I have a chance.

Then, Hermione stands up, looking to the group of suspicious third years. She must have finally noticed. She walks over, with her hands on her waist, and asks them what’s going on. They look at her guiltily, and point to something in the center of the circle they’ve formed. Hermione clasps her hands to her mouth.

Must be bad…

She bends down and scoops something up, and orders one of the students to follow her – and then she walks to the portrait hole, furiously I might add, and sets off with the frightened looking kid. Bless him – I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.

I can’t help but smile as I run the replay of what just happened – the way she marched over with her hands on her waist. She’s irresistible when she’s mad, I just want to take her and kiss her when she’s like that. It’s probably not a great idea, though.

I look over to where she had been sitting; her book is still sitting on the arm of the chair. An idea crosses my mind, though, like most of my ideas, it’s probably a very unwise one.

Couldn’t hurt.

Yes – it could hurt very much, Ronald Bilius Weasley.

Not if she already hates you…

I wish I were a bit more decisive.

Maybe I should do it – I could always lie and say it wasn’t me.

She’d know, you idiot.

I scribble my thougts down on my parchment, and tear it from the sheet. I fiddle with it for a moment.

There’s no harm in it. I can’t see how this could possibly upset her.

Alright – I’ve decided. I take a glance at the portrait hole, and then rush over to where she was sitting. I pick up the book. It is, as it turns out, Pride and Prejudice.

I open it, and find a page marked – near the very end – its corner is turned. I slip the piece of parchment in with the marked page, and set the book back down, before returning to my place on the far side of the common room.

I look down at my parchment – it’s scribbled upon, complete with doodles and a few scratched out retracings of Hermione’s name surrounded by hearts, and now it’s torn, as well. I shake my head at my own idiocy, before throwing my things into my book bag I glance back at Hermione’s book, then I pick up my book bag and leave the common room, setting off for the library, still wondering if he ever gets the girl.

A/N: Second Chapter - a lot more thoughts, but then again, it is Hermione. Enjoy it!

Marked To Find Your Way Back

Chapter the Second: Hermione

I can’t believe it – some of the things students get up to in this school! Turning your friends into mice, I ask you!

“Where on earth did you get the potion, Arthur?� I ask the third year.

“I bought it from a hag in the Hog’s Head…�

“Why were you in the Hog’s Head – and why would you buy something from a hag, and then proceed to administer it to your friend?�

“Well, Maurice and I bought it together, you see…so, he kind of volunteered to take it,� he told me. “It was cool at first, but now we don’t know how to turn him back…�

Unbelievable – I mean, I know I’ve stepped outside the school rules numerous times during the past several years, but I’ve always known precisely what I was doing, and it was never for fun! I would never turn one of my friends into a mouse without knowing how I’d return him to human form…

Well, now that I think about it – I might like to turn Ron into some kind of small animal, and a rodent seems quite fitting. Stupid Ron.

We reach Professor McGonagall’s office, and I open the door for the third year to go inside. He looks at me apprehensively for a moment, before lowering his head hopelessly and entering.

“Good evening, Ms. Granger, Mr. Casey,� Professor McGonagall greets us when we enter. “Is there something I can help you with?�

“Mr. Casey here turned his friend Mr. Mephtimus into a mouse, using a potion he bought from a hag in the Hog’s Head, Professor,� I tell her, placing the mouse form of Maurice on her desk. “And now he has no idea how to turn him back.�

Professor McGonagall’s eyes widen in surprise for a moment, and her mouth hangs open as she looks at the blonde mouse scurrying across her desk. Then, standing up with her hands balled into little fists, she presses her lips together tightly and her eyes narrow into a deadly stare on the trembling young third year. She seems unable to express her anger in words.

“Thank you, Ms. Granger,� she says, her gaze remaining fixed on Arthur. “You may return to what you were doing, I will handle these two.�

I nod politely and turn to head back to the common room. My thoughts return to rodent Ron. Yes, it might be quite enjoyable to see him scurry around helplessly with no hope of returning to human form. I could then carry him around in my pocket, and he’d never ask me for help with homework again.

I still can’t believe he had the nerve to say what he did. That’s the fourth time this week he’s asked me for help with his homework. And it’s Tuesday! And his excuse is that I love schoolwork! For goodness sake, of course I enjoy learning new things and reading and writing and such, but it can be quite tedious at times. For instance – everyone knows that Professor Binns is a lousy teacher, even me! Of course I despise going to that class as much as every other student in this school – but who is it who pays attention and takes notes? Me, that’s who. I don’t blame Harry too much, he has so much on his mind right now, though I might like it if he took just a bit more initiative… but Ron! Ron has absolutely no excuse other than his supreme laziness… I mean, he actually has the audacity to sit in class and watch me take notes! He doesn’t think I notice, but I do. I know he’s lying when he tells me that he falls asleep in class because it’s too boring. No, he’d rather just sit there and watch me take notes and then copy from me later.

And as for the Transfiguration essay – well, yes, of course I found it fascinating. We’re learning about Human Transfiguration for goodness sake, of course it’s interesting to study. But I am certainly not going to sit there and do his work for him simply because he doesn’t want to.

Besides – I was reading. I’m actually almost done with Pride and Prejudice. Mr. Darcy, it seems, will get the girl. It’s all so romantic. Especially since Elizabeth had no idea for so long, and then she found out that everything she detested about Mr. Darcy was based on false assumption.

Sometimes I wish it were that way with Ron and me. I wish that he has some secret reason for not paying attention in class, and asking me for help with his homework. I wish that, secretly, he is very much in love with me.

But I know that’s not the way of things. He detests me. He has since the first time we met, and he told Harry I was an absolute nightmare. Ron probably only puts up with me because of Harry, and of course because I do half his schoolwork for him.

And I detest him just as much.

Well, no – that’s not true. I can’t help but love him.

“Ronald the Dashing,� I tell the Fat Lady.

“Excuse me?� she says, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I apologize Ms. Granger, but that’s not the password.�

“Oh – sorry,� I say quickly, feeling my cheeks grow hot. “I meant to say Donald the Daring…�

“That’s right, dear,� she says softly, and I know she’s trying not to laugh.

She knows how I feel, she must know. How could she not, after all? I mean, I know she’s merely a portrait, but everyone knows how I feel about Ron. Even Harry knows, I can tell he does. Ron is the only one who doesn’t know.

And then I’m struck with a horrifying thought: What if he does know? And pretends not to?

I’ve been so short with him lately, out of my impatience with his complete idiocy in not catching on to every hint I’ve thrown him. Every time I brush up against him, or kiss his cheek, or sit as close as possible to him, he moves away. I’ve thought that he’s just being an idiot – but what if he knows?

Now I’m distressed.

I look to the far side of the room where Ron was sitting, and I see that he’s not there.

I pick up my book as I reach my armchair, but I don’t open it. I don’t really want to read about how Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth end up happily ever after. It’s a stupid phrase, really – ‘happily ever after’. Does anyone ever really live happily ever after?

Truthfully, I haven’t read a single line of the book since I had that argument with Ron earlier. He stalked off into the corner, where I just happen to know he remained watching me, probably thinking about how horrible I am for not helping him with his homework, and what an idiot I am for having feelings for him. And I sat there, staring at the pages of my book, turning them absently, but not reading anything.

He can’t possibly know how I feel, that’s giving him too much credit.

I sigh, not sure what I think at all anymore and pick up the book, deciding that it probably is time I finish it. I open up to the last page I was reading; I had turned down the corner to find it more easily.

As I open the page, a small piece of parchment falls out, its edges are torn.

I pick it up from my lap and read it:

Does he ever get the girl?

I smile; it’s from Ron. I turn to the far side of the room to look at him, but remember that he’s left. I don’t know why he’s so interested in Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, but I think it’s sweet. I let out a deep breath of relief, feeling somewhat more at peace about the entire Ron situation. I don’t want to turn him into a rodent, after all.

I return to my book, finally, holding Ron’s note in my hand as I read.

Just as I finish, and close the book and take notice that the common room is empty. I am alone. The portrait hole opens and Ron enters, looking exhausted. He comes over to me and sits in the chair next to mine.

“I have something for you…� he tells me quietly.

I close my book and lift my eyes to his.

“Oh?� I say.

He smiles nervously and hands me a scroll of parchment, which I unroll.

“Your Transfiguration Essay?� I say, upon seeing what it his he has handed me.

“I went to the library and did it,� he says. “All by myself. Research and all. And mind you, I had to research quite a bit because I didn’t pay any attention in class… I felt bad about earlier, and you’re right – I shouldn’t rely on you to be doing all my schoolwork.�

See, its things like this that make me love Ron. Most people wouldn’t understand the significance of his actions, here, but between him and me, this means everything. He knows that this means everything.

“Would you like me to look over it for you?� I ask, smiling.

“If you don’t mind,� he says. “Just to make sure I did a good job. And you don’t have to do it now, when you’re ready, of course…� he adds quickly.

I’m quiet for a moment, wishing I had the nerve to tell him how I feel.

“I got your note,� I say.

His ears turn red. I love it when his ears turn red.

“So…?� he asks quietly. “Does he ever get the girl?�

“Yes, actually,� I tell him. “Elizabeth finds out how Mr. Darcy really feels and how everything she detested about him –�

“Hermione,� he interrupts. “I didn’t mean Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth…�

His face and ears are now burning red. He puts his hand on mine, and I see him swallow hard.

“Does he ever get the girl?� he whispers to me.

My thoughts are numb for a moment. He can’t possibly mean what I think he means.

“Ron, what -?�

He moves his other hand so that both of his hands are wrapped around my own small, trembling one.

“Hermione?� he asks, a small quivering smile spreading across his lips. He knows now. He didn’t know before, but he knows now.

And then, it happens. All the times I pictured our first kiss it was always in the heat of a moment, right in the middle of an argument, and Ron just kisses me to shut me up, or I kiss him to shut him up – and then the whole common room falls silent as we break apart and stare at each other realizing the line that has just been crossed, waiting with bated breath for what happens next.

But that isn’t what happens. Be both know exactly what is happening, and neither one of us makes the move alone. We both know what’s coming as we each lean towards each other, closing our eyes to share our first kiss. My book drops from my hand and Ron puts both his arms around me. I feel the smile playing wider across his lips, and feel an irrepressible smile taking over my own.

We break apart, and Ron laughs softly, brushing a piece of my hair from my face.

“Is that a yes?� he asks.

I just nod.

We lean in to kiss again, when we realize we’re being watched. By Harry. We both turn to him, completely speechless, afraid of his reaction. He’s been in Dumbledore’s office the past few hours, and he never returns in a good mood.

He just smiles at us, and heads up the boys staircase to bed. It’s the most genuine smile he’s offered Ron and me since June.


- Finite -