Disclaimer: As much as I wish I had my very own Ron, I don’t. JKR owns him along with all those publisher peoples. Lucky them.
*******
Bloody freckles. You know, I never wanted freckles. I’ve always hated them. So how did I end up with about 10,000 of them? Okay, so there probably aren’t that many. But one of these days I’m going to count them all up, just to see how many there really are.
I don’t really think they make me look gruesome though. I mean, I hope they don’t. I’m certainly better looking than some broken-nosed, hunched over, Quidditch player, but apparently some people find surliness attractive. Not like I care or anything.
Hmmm, I don’t think I’m pockmarked either. Bloody painting. Probably as cracked as old Sir Cadogan. I bet spattergroit isn’t even a real disease. In fact… what was that?
Oh, great. She’s standing at my door. Just exactly the person I wanted to see. Maybe we can discuss Quidditch players with bad social skills because I reckon that would be just a jolly old time.
“Checking for spattergroit?” she asks. Oh, bloody hell, she must have been watching me examine my over-abundance of freckles in the mirror. She’s smiling at me, but it’s not a Hermione smile. More like a smirk… I can’t describe it. I kind of like it though.
My face is going red too. I can feel it happening. Not as bad as it could be, but my ears feel hot. Why’s she just standing there? Oh, right, she asked me a question. Er… what was the question.. … spattergroit.
“Of course not,” I mumble. Okay, changed my mind. I don’t like the way she’s looking at me. Like I’m on display or something. You know those dreams you have where you show up at school completely starkers and you don’t know it, but everyone else does and they’re all staring at you? Yeah, that’s kind of how she’s looking at me.
“Oh,” she says. “Well, if you need any help with that remedy just let me know.”
Remedy? What remedy? Oh, right, that loony old wizard told me how to get rid of this disease that’s not really a disease. What was it again? Something about toad livers and eel eyes… but why would she want to help with that? Merlin, she’s as barking as the wizard in the portrait. Mad I tell you. Er, wait… there was another part to the remedy, wasn’t there? Huh, Hermione’s looking a bit ill… like she’s said something she didn’t mean to say. Now what…
My jaw’s four feet lower than it was a second ago and let me tell you, I may not be looking in the mirror, but I’m very sure that I’ve got reeaally red ears now. According to that batty wizard, you’ve got to be naked for the remedy to work. She was imagining me starkers! She’s not allowed to think things like that! She’s a prefect! Well, so am I, but that doesn’t count. I’m a fifteen-year-old bloke. She… she’s Hermione!
Calm down, deep breath. She’s trying to get to me, that’s all. Well, two can play at that game. Okay, a plan… retaliation… throw her off guard…right, first, calm down.
“I think I’ll survive without the remedy,” I say casually. At least, I think it was casual. It could have just been weak with the knowledge that she was imagining me starkers! No, quit thinking about that. Er, now what? Right… what would make her really nervous and uncomfortable? Merlin, all this thinking is making me really tired. I’m yawning even… oohh… idea! Idea!
“I think I’m going to turn in,” I say. Er… she looks confused now. How is that confusing? How does “I’m going to bed” confuse the most brilliant witch in our class? Not that she’s brilliant or anything. She just has good study habits.
“Turn in?” she asks. “But it’s only…” she glances down at her watch and her eyes go absolutely huge. “It’s ten fifteen!” she gasps. “Since when is it ten fifteen?”
“Since it’s no longer ten fourteen?” Hah, a point to me for sarcasm. She’s not even glaring. Amazing.
“But it was only half past seven when we finished dinner,” she says, still looking at her watch. Good, time for step two of plan.
“You’re right,” I say. “It was only seven thirty when we finished eating. And then you disappeared into your room, during which time I washed the dishes,” I pause and begin to pull my shirt off, “wrote a letter to Bill,” dammit, it’s stuck! It can’t be stuck! “and beat Harry in about eight games of chess.” Ugh, okay, it’s off.
Ah yes, she’s spotted me. Didn’t know her eyes could go that big. Don’t blush… don’t blush, it’ll ruin it. Give her a bit of a smirk instead… ha! She’s blushing now! Man I’m good. If I was a girl, I’d giggle.
“Er, Ron, why is your shirt off?” What? Oh… right. I’m “turning in”. Heh, forgot for a moment.
“Getting ready for bed,” I tell her. I wonder… I do have boxers on. Maybe if I… I mean, she’ll probably run away before, well… couldn’t hurt to experiment. Maybe I’ll just fiddle with the buttons for a minute. Pretend, just to throw her off a bit.
“Ron, why’re you undressing in front of Hermione?”
Bloody hell! I didn’t even see Harry standing there! So much for not blushing.
“I… er, that is to say“ ” Git. He doesn’t have to stand there smirking like that.
“I think I’ll just nip off to bed then,” Hermione says. “Night Harry, night Ron.” Blimey that girl can talk fast. And Harry’s still looking at me oddly. Great, so she makes a run for it and I have to explain to Harry… whatever it is that just happened.
Oh, sure, Harry, sit down on the bed and look at me like that, I don’t mind.
“There is a perfectly good reason for everything you just saw,” I say. Yep… I just have to think of it. He doesn’t even say anything, just sits there, waiting.
“I, um… er… well, the reason is… Hermione… she was imagining me starker!”
“Which explains why you were ready to take your trousers off how?” He’s kind of got a point. Seemed a good idea at the time though.
“She was practically asking me to take off my clothes, Harry. It was innuendo!” That tosser, he’s laughing at me! Laughing! At me!
“Our Hermione?” he says. “Ron, Hermione does not use innuendo.” Well, no, our Hermione doesn’t. But the Hermione that was in my room a minute ago apparently does. Merlin, why won’t he quit laughing?
He’s done now. Amazing how hurling pillows shuts people up. Especially when it knocks off their glasses.
“Damn it, Ron!” he says. “I can’t see… where’re my glasses?”
“Don’t see ‘em, mate. Maybe they’re under the bed, or by your trunk.” Or in my hand. There’s a whole range of possibilities.
I let him stumble around a bit, just for fun.
“I’ve found ‘em, Harry!” He holds out a hand for them, but I back away.
“Ah ah ah, can’t have them yet. Not until you promise to forget everything you just saw and never talk about it again,” I tell him. And do you know what he just did? He snorted. One of those ‘right, you’re not serious,’ snorts. Smarmy bugger.
“I’m not giving your glasses back until you promise. And since you can’t see without them, you won’t be able to find me.” Just to prove my point I turn around and walk away from him, over to the mirror where I slip the glasses on. I’ve always wondered how I’d look in glasses. Not bad.
“Ron, I’m not completely blind,” he says. “You’re over six feet tall, and even I can see a six foot tall blur, especially when the blur’s got red hair.” Hmm… hadn’t thought about that. Still, I can run faster than… what the…
“Argh! Harry, are you stupid or something? What are you doing?” He’s jumped on my back! Ack… falling over… fallen. I take off the glasses and hold them away from him, out of his reach, but he’s somehow managed to pin me down and he’s sitting on top of me and taking my arm and doing that thing where you twist it around so that it hurts like hell…
“Gerroff, Harry!”
“Not till I get my glasses back.” As soon as I get him off of me he is in trouble. He’s obvious forgotten that I’m nearly half a foot taller than he is. I just need to get my arm free first… ow…
“What is going on in here?”
Oh, bugger. Them. Because this is exactly what I need right now. At least Harry’s let go of my arm.
“Well?” I think that’s George. Might Fred though. I can’t see because Harry’s still sitting on me.
“I’m getting my glasses back.” As he says this, Harry grabs his glasses and finally rolls off my back.
“And why did Ron have your glasses?” That’s Fred. I sit up so I can see them.
“He was trying to get me to promise not to say anything.” Uh-oh. Both their ears just perked up, like a dog’s does.
“And what was it that he didn’t want you to talk about?” Fred again. Why do they have to be so damn nosy?
Don’t say anything, Harry. Don’t you dare. I swear I’ll… I’ll do something not very nice.
“He didn’t want me to say how I saw him undressing in front of Hermione.” That’s it. He’s a dead man. Forget You-Know-Who, forget the Death Eaters, I’ve got dibs on Harry now and he’s soon going to be ‘The Boy Who Lived Until He Told His Best Friend’s Twin Brothers Something He Shouldn’t Have Which Led Said Best Friend To Murder Him In A Very Unpleasant Way.’ And after that I’ll have to go after Fred and George because from the way they’re looking at me they are never going to shut up about this.
“You know,” George is saying. “I thought Hermione looked a bit ill when we passed her a minute ago.”
“Yeah, well, if Ron tried to take his clothes off in front of me, I’d feel a bit queasy too.” Fred.
“Probably scarred her for life you have, Ronniekins.”
“Shut up! That’s not what happened at all!” Know what? I don’t think they believe me. And Harry just snorted. Again. Will someone please tell me why I’m friends with him because I can’t remember.
“Sure, Ron,” he says. “I only imagined you trying to take off your trousers.”
“She… she was imagining me starkers!” I blurt out. There’s an uproar of laughter at this and it really makes me want to hit something.
“Sure,” Fred says, wiping tears from his eyes. “Hermione was thinking of you without any clothes on so you decided to give her the real thing.” It’s no use. I give up.
“I’m going to bed,” I mutter, glaring down at them. “So get out of my room.” Then I look pointedly at each of them.
“Hey,” Harry says. “This si my room too.”
“Not tonight it’s not. Go sleep with them.” I nod toward the identical gits.
“Er, yeah, Harry. You can kip on the floor. If you stay here Ron might attack you in the middle of the night and I don’t really think that would be a good thing.” Huh, for once in his life I think Fred may be using his brain.
Good, they’re all leaving. No… Harry’s stopping… he’s turning…
“Y’know, Ron, try to keep your clothes on if you see Hermione during breakfast. Pancakes and you with no shirt on just don’t go well together.”
Pillow, where’s a pillow when I need one? Better yet, a bat. But all I can find is a shoe so I chuck that at him, but he closes the door so the shoe hits that instead. What a shame. The tread marks would have gone nicely with his scar.
I get into bed, but I’m not even going to take off the bloody trousers, not after all the grief they’ve caused. I don’t care how uncomfortable they are to sleep in. And maybe I just won’t go to breakfast tomorrow morning. I can pretend I’m sick or something. I won’t be able to eat anyway, not with Fred ,George and Harry there, and certainly not if Hermione’s in the room.
I can’t believe her. Honestly, she’s not allowed to imagine me with no clothes. Still… wonder if she liked… okay. Not going to think about things like that.
Well, maybe it’s not so bad that she was thinking about me like that. Maybe I’m just blowing things out of proportion. I do that sometimes, you know. It’s probably just that she caught me off guard. Maybe it’s actually a good thing. Maybe it means that she thinks of me the way that I… maybe she feels… maybe it means that she feels differently about me and Harry… just a little bit…
Maybe.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Hey! Wow. I apologize profusely for the ridiculous wait. To tell the truth, I completely forgot I had posted this here. *Ducks* Again, I'm really really really sorry. There's another chapter that's finished, so I'll be sure to get that up sometime in the next week or so. I'm currently working on chapter four, which will be the last chapter. I'm not sure when it will be finished, because life is insanely busy right now, but I'm working on it whenever I have the chance. Thanks loads to everyone who reviewed, and a special thank you to "Tibbycat" (sorry, I don't know your name), who reminded me that I had this story posted here.