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 ā“ she isnāt paying attention to the students in the corner, either; unlike me, however, itās not from lack of desire to do find out what exactly theyāre up to; she is much too emerged in her book to even have noticed it.
I wonder what sheās reading ā“ 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 itās 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 isnāt 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, Iāve fallen in love with her.
I asked Hermione if Elizabeth ever returns Mr. Darcyās feelings, if he ever gets the girl. It would be good news for me if he did. Then I might stand a chance.
āIām only half-way through the book, Ronald,ā she told me. āSo I donāt knowā¦ā
āWell ā“ do you think heāll get the girl?ā
āI think so,ā Hermione had said stiffly. āThough, Iām not sure Elizabeth should be so forgiving to Mr. Darcy, heās been quite rude to her since theyāre first meeting, and he hasnāt done much to make up for it.ā
I wasnāt too pleased with this answer. I figure that itās probably how Hermione feels about me.
So here I am, sitting trying to watch at her without anyone noticing. I think weāre the reason the room is so quiet ā“ weāve just had another one of our infamous arguments. My own bloody fault, reallyā¦
āHermione ā“ would you help me with my Transfiguration essay?ā I had asked, quite innocently I might add.
She looked up from her book.
āWhen you say āhelpāā¦ā
āI wasnāt paying any attention in class yesterday,ā I told her.
āSo not only do you have know idea what youāre supposed to be doing due to your own incompetence, but youāve waited until the last moment to do it, and on top of everything else youāve decided to ask for my help while Iām busy doing something elseā¦ā
āItās not the last minute, itās not even eight yet ā“ and I could even be doing it tomorrow at breakfast, but Iāve decided to take a bit of initiative,ā I protested. āBesides, you donāt look busy to me.ā
āIām reading!ā
āWell, Iām sure that can be put offā¦ā I had said, stupidly.
āNo, Ron ā“ it canāt. And you know why ā“ because I would rather read this book than help you with an essay that Iāve already done myself, simply because youāre lazy!ā
āBut you love doing schoolwork!ā
āIs that what you think? Youāve known me for more than five years, and you think I enjoy schoolworkā¦ā
āYes! 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 ā“ despite having to request Ministry assistance in order to attend all of them!ā
Hermione simply glared at me.
āI might want to do my best Ron ā“ but donāt 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 donāt understand, and then tell you how to write them into an essay which I then EDIT FOR YOU!ā
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.
āSo, you donāt want to help me then?ā I had said, flashing her an adorable grin. Or what I had thought was adorable grin.
Letās just say she didnāt react well to that.
So now, Iām sitting here, scribbling on a piece of parchment that is supposed to be my Transfiguration essay, and sheās returned to reading her book. I might ask Harry for help ā“ but heās gone to Dumbledoreās office, and heās never in what Iād call a āgood moodā when he comes back from Dumbledoreās office. Not since Siriusās death, at least.
Poor Harry, heās in a right state, nowadays. I think thereās something heās hiding from Hermione and me, and I canāt imagine what it could be. Heās always told us everything. Must be pretty bad.
I feel that Harryās the only thing keeping Hermione and me friends. I mean, the girl must hate me ā“ but sheās decided to be civil to me for Harryās sake. Sheās been much more impatient with me this year than ever before. It all comes to down to her absolute loathing of me, Iād say.
Though there are times when I think that canāt possibly be true. Only two weeks ago she came to me in tears. She was terrified ā“ terrified for her mum and dad, for Ginny, for Harryā¦
āā¦and for you, Ron,ā she had cried. āIām just so scared.ā
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.
āWhy are you so frightened?ā I had asked her softly.
āItās not going to be over with Sirius, Ron. More people are going to be killed, and theyāll probably be close to us. Weāre right at the center of it allā¦weāve been lucky so many times. It canāt always be like thatā¦ā
She stopped talking for a minute or two, crying.
āAnd Harry ā“ what Harry must be going throughā¦ā she said quietly. āItās him Voldemortās after, Ronā¦ā
That was probably it. She had come to me because she couldnāt have possible gone to Harry. But I couldnāt help but think that she wouldnāt have come to me, wouldnāt 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 canāt help but wonder if Mr. Darcy ever gets the girl. I wish I knew. Maybe then Iād 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 whatās going on. They look at her guiltily, and point to something in the center of the circle theyāve formed. Hermione clasps her hands to her mouth.
Must be badā¦
She bends down and scoops something up, and orders one of the students to follow her ā“ and then she walks to the portrait hole, furiously I might add, and sets off with the frightened looking kid. Bless him ā“ I wouldnāt want to be in his shoes.
I canāt help but smile as I run the replay of what just happened ā“ the way she marched over with her hands on her waist. Sheās irresistible when sheās mad, I just want to take her and kiss her when sheās like that. Itās 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, itās probably a very unwise one.
Couldnāt hurt.
Yes ā“ it could hurt very much, Ronald Bilius Weasley.
Not if she already hates youā¦
I wish I were a bit more decisive.
Maybe I should do it ā“ I could always lie and say it wasnāt me.
Sheād know, you idiot.
I scribble my thougts down on my parchment, and tear it from the sheet. I fiddle with it for a moment.
Thereās no harm in it. I canāt see how this could possibly upset her.
Alright ā“ Iāve 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 ā“ near the very end ā“ 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 ā“ itās scribbled upon, complete with doodles and a few scratched out retracings of Hermioneās name surrounded by hearts, and now itās torn, as well. I shake my head at my own idiocy, before throwing my things into my book bag I glance back at Hermioneās 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.