Angst & Adoration by Moira Whipstaff
Chapter Notes: I hereby state that J.K. Rowling is a literary genius and to steal her work would be barbaric. That being said, I do not claim ownership of Harry Potter or any part of his magical world.
“WON-WON!” Lavender Brown’s joyful squeal sailed down the corridor and directly into the very red ears of Ronald Weasley.
“Harry,” he pleaded, “Please make her go away!”
Harry chuckled as his friend was knocked to the ground in a torrent of blonde hair and baby noises.
“Oh, Won-Won,” Lavender cooed as she covered his now scarlet complexion with kisses, “I missed my Won-Won! Did he miss me, too?”
“Mph phaffa gehBLEH!” Ron promptly gave up his strangled attempts of protest upon receiving a rather large portion of Lavender’s hair in his mouth.
“Eeeew, Wonnie!” Lavender giggled as he batted at the light strands hanging in his face.
“I’ll uh, meet you back in the Common Room, eh Ron?” Harry grinned.
Ron’s helpless expression quickly turned to panic as he let out a muffled whimper. Harry gave him some encouraging eyebrow wiggles before mouthing “Go on,” so that Lavender couldn’t hear.
Ron looked absolutely miserable, but he gave Harry a half-nod as he watched him disappear up the smooth stone steps to the common room.
By the time Harry climbed through the portrait hole, Hermione had already tucked herself away in a far corner where she sat at a table, pouring over several thick textbooks. Bits of parchment littered the polished surface and Harry feared that the expression of immense vexation on her face might soon become permanent. In fact, the zest with which she normally completed her homework seemed to have been replaced by method of savage attack. Still, whatever was bothering her appeared to diminish slightly at the sight of Harry cautiously approaching.
“Hi, Harry,” she said distractedly, then went back to her almost brutal page-turning.
“Hey,” he said, still wondering as to whether or not he should stay. He finally decided he would be safe enough sitting across the table; that way if she decided to spit fire, he might have room to escape.
They worked in silence, except for the constant rustle of paper and scratching of quills. Suddenly, Harry felt Hermione’s eyes on him, studying him. He looked up as she glanced away and pretended to be immersed in a particularly large and grimy book. As he turned his own attention back to his parchment, however, he sensed her scrutinizing gaze once more. He squirmed.
“What?” he asked.
Hermione started.
“Oh! No, uh … I was just … nothing,” she finished lamely, shaking her head. She propped her book up on the table, giving a tiny sigh.
Harry dipped his quill into his ink pot and poised it over his still very bare parchment, then completely forgot what he was supposed to be writing. He gazed absently across the table and realized that Hermione had been peering at him over the top of her book.
“Look, Hermione,” he said, feeling slightly annoyed, “Is there something the matter or have I just got a giant bogey hanging out my nose that you’re afraid to tell me about?”
Hermione’s mouth hinted at the start of a smile, but quickly changed to concern.
“Harry,” she began, looking him straight in the eyes, almost pleadingly. “Are you…? I mean, you … Harry, you are being careful, aren’t you?”
Harry blinked at her.
“Well, I just … you know it’s just that Ginny, of all people, knows ““
Harry bumped his knee so hard underneath the table that his ink well nearly spilled.
“- how dangerous relying on a book can be,” she finished, clearly pretending not to have noticed this painful reflex.
“Hermione,” Harry said, grimacing slightly, “We’ve been over this a hundred times and I’ve already told you that I don’t think the Prince is keen on possessing people and personally, I’m quite happy about not failing Potions.”
Hermione, looking quite huffy indeed, opened her mouth to retort when she was interrupted by an ear-splitting yowl.
“I HATE YOU, RON WEASLEY, AND I HOPE YOU FALL OFF YOUR BROOMSTICK AND BREAK YOUR BLOODY NECK!”
Every head in the common room turned as a puffy-eyed, tear-stained Lavender burst through the portrait hole and up the winding stairs to the girl’s dormitory. Several girls hurried to follow her, casting threatening glances at Ron, who was now standing, stunned, in the middle of the room.
Harry winced. Hermione, who’s mouth had been hanging slightly open, snapped it back shut.
Slowly, Ron made his way to the corner, blushing profusely and trying to ignore the many eyes boring into him as he passed. Once he reached the table, he promptly plopped down next to Harry and buried his head in his hands.
“Good,” said Harry. “Looks like that went well.”
Ron groaned.
“So you two are over then?” Hermione more stated than asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Well, considering she wants me dead, I suppose that’s one conclusion,” Ron replied frostily.
“Oh, don’t be dramatic, Ronald,” Hermione sighed. “If she honestly wanted you dead, she would have used that long hair of hers to strangle you or something.”
Harry snorted.
“She did a fairly good job of that when she wasn’t angry,” he chuckled.
“Anyway,” Hermione continued, “I don’t expect she particularly fell for your sleeping act every time she came to visit you in the hospital wing.”
Ron gave a rather sheepish half-grin, then frowned and stared at his hands.
“I haven’t been screamed at like that since Mum’s Howler second year,” he muttered.
He shook his head and paused for a moment, frowning again, then looked over his shoulder toward the stairs.
“Girls,” he said, scowling grumpily.
Hermione narrowed her eyes into slits and shook her head in disbelief. Harry noticed just in time to stop her from making a rude suggestion.
“AH-HA!” he announced loudly, shooting her a warning glance. Ron looked as though Harry might have sprouted some large, fluffy wings.
“Er,” he continued awkwardly, “Now … now she’s gone and uh … and good on ya, mate!” he finished enthusiastically.
Ron nodded slowly, still rather surprised by Harry’s sudden outburst.
“Anyway,” he sighed, “I’m glad that’s done with.”
“You have NO idea,” said Hermione under her breath.
“Hm?” Both boys looked at her.
“Nothing,” she lied, “I was just trying to find a spell.”
She went back to flipping pages. Ron studied her closely. He could have sworn he heard her say “You have no idea,” but perhaps it was merely his own secret longing playing tricks on him …