After Classes
Dec. 28th, 2001 10:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveChapter seven is up: Chapter Seven
Also, below, because ffnet keeps crashing my browser.
After Classes
chapter seven
Ron was staring at the parchment, unrolled before him. It was completely blank, and doomed, he knew, to stay that way. If there was a spell to automatically fill in the parchment with an essay - a brilliant essay, preferably - Ron had never heard of it. He was pretty sure he would have, because Fred and George were the most likely ones to have found out about it, and they'd have told him.
Wouldn't they have? Well, they'd at least be getting better grades than they were - so it was more likely no such spell existed. Perhaps he ought to try again to write something down.
He glanced across the table at Hermione, and opened his mouth - snapping it shut when she flicked her gaze up at him, sharply, with an expression he knew all too well. With a sigh, Ron propped his chin in the palm of his hand, and looked around the common room, glumly. They should have done like Harry, and gone to the library to study. Ron had opted not to, after long and careful consideration. He really had to get this essay done, and the library was too...distracting, what with certain transfer students having said they were headed there, this morning.
"Oh for-" Hermione said, and Ron heard her slam her book shut. He looked at her, startled. If *she* was having trouble with her homework, there was absolutely no hope for *him*, was there? But he found her glaring at him, again.
"Er...what?" He glanced around behind himself, to make sure there wasn't a large mandrake, or something, pulled free of the pots and sneaking up behind him.
"If you can't concentrate on your homework, could you at least stop sighing like that?"
Ron blinked. "I wasn't."
"You were."
Ron blinked again, and thought back. He'd been sitting here, trying to think about his essay. Thinking about Quidditch, occasionally, and whether he and Harry should go sneaking out some night soon, under Harry's cloak, to investigate the grounds and look for..well, nothing in particular. Trouble, generally.
Anything to get out of their rooms, and away from lying in bed and thinking about things.
"I wasn't," he repeated, though he couldn't be entirely sure he was right. Arguing with Hermione was half-reflex, though, and certainly more agreeable than homework.
Hermione folded her arms on top of the table, and regarded him. Ron shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Ron. You were sighing. Now - I'm sure there's a reason you didn't just agree to do your studying in the library, with Harry. But as you aren't getting any more work done here, as you would have, there, I don't see why you didn't just *go* where you could pretend not to be looking at him."
"WHAT?" Ron sat up straight, and frantically looked around, hoping no one had heard her. If anyone had, they certainly had heard *him*, he realised guiltily, as everyone in the room was now staring. He lowered his voice and leant forward, whispering, "I don't know what-"
But Hermione was half-smiling at him, looking a cross between amused, and annoyed. A common enough expression for her, Ron had noticed. At least when he and Harry were around. "Ron, it isn't perfectly obvious-"
"Thank god! I mean - what are you talking about?"
"To anyone who doesn't pay attention," she continued. "But I do confess, I've been hoping to get you alone, so I can ask you something."
With another furious glance about the room, Ron said, "We aren't alone."
Hermione leant forward, as well, and asked quietly, "I wasn't sure, at first, because I'd thought you would have asked me for advice, before you did anything. But you didn't, and I'm not sure you're not going to make a mess of things."
"Hermione, what *are* you on about?"
"Do you really like WuFei, or are you trying to make Harry jealous?"
Also, below, because ffnet keeps crashing my browser.
After Classes
chapter seven
Ron was staring at the parchment, unrolled before him. It was completely blank, and doomed, he knew, to stay that way. If there was a spell to automatically fill in the parchment with an essay - a brilliant essay, preferably - Ron had never heard of it. He was pretty sure he would have, because Fred and George were the most likely ones to have found out about it, and they'd have told him.
Wouldn't they have? Well, they'd at least be getting better grades than they were - so it was more likely no such spell existed. Perhaps he ought to try again to write something down.
He glanced across the table at Hermione, and opened his mouth - snapping it shut when she flicked her gaze up at him, sharply, with an expression he knew all too well. With a sigh, Ron propped his chin in the palm of his hand, and looked around the common room, glumly. They should have done like Harry, and gone to the library to study. Ron had opted not to, after long and careful consideration. He really had to get this essay done, and the library was too...distracting, what with certain transfer students having said they were headed there, this morning.
"Oh for-" Hermione said, and Ron heard her slam her book shut. He looked at her, startled. If *she* was having trouble with her homework, there was absolutely no hope for *him*, was there? But he found her glaring at him, again.
"Er...what?" He glanced around behind himself, to make sure there wasn't a large mandrake, or something, pulled free of the pots and sneaking up behind him.
"If you can't concentrate on your homework, could you at least stop sighing like that?"
Ron blinked. "I wasn't."
"You were."
Ron blinked again, and thought back. He'd been sitting here, trying to think about his essay. Thinking about Quidditch, occasionally, and whether he and Harry should go sneaking out some night soon, under Harry's cloak, to investigate the grounds and look for..well, nothing in particular. Trouble, generally.
Anything to get out of their rooms, and away from lying in bed and thinking about things.
"I wasn't," he repeated, though he couldn't be entirely sure he was right. Arguing with Hermione was half-reflex, though, and certainly more agreeable than homework.
Hermione folded her arms on top of the table, and regarded him. Ron shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Ron. You were sighing. Now - I'm sure there's a reason you didn't just agree to do your studying in the library, with Harry. But as you aren't getting any more work done here, as you would have, there, I don't see why you didn't just *go* where you could pretend not to be looking at him."
"WHAT?" Ron sat up straight, and frantically looked around, hoping no one had heard her. If anyone had, they certainly had heard *him*, he realised guiltily, as everyone in the room was now staring. He lowered his voice and leant forward, whispering, "I don't know what-"
But Hermione was half-smiling at him, looking a cross between amused, and annoyed. A common enough expression for her, Ron had noticed. At least when he and Harry were around. "Ron, it isn't perfectly obvious-"
"Thank god! I mean - what are you talking about?"
"To anyone who doesn't pay attention," she continued. "But I do confess, I've been hoping to get you alone, so I can ask you something."
With another furious glance about the room, Ron said, "We aren't alone."
Hermione leant forward, as well, and asked quietly, "I wasn't sure, at first, because I'd thought you would have asked me for advice, before you did anything. But you didn't, and I'm not sure you're not going to make a mess of things."
"Hermione, what *are* you on about?"
"Do you really like WuFei, or are you trying to make Harry jealous?"