Pique and Poetry

by She's a Star

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling :)

A/N: *mwahaha* Look out HP readers, I am BACK! *hehe* I missed writing R/H fluff, so naturally I had to write this. I hope you enjoy it. :)

~*~

Was it normal to absolutely loathe Hogsmeade weekends with a passion?

Hermione Granger doubted it.

Here he comes, she thought, filled with dread as she sunk into a stiff chair next to a mahogany table and dropped her books onto it.

Perhaps he won't notice me. . .

"Hey, Hermione!"

No such luck.

"What, Ron?" she groaned, sitting up straighter and attempting to tuck a few runaway strands of unruly hair behind her ears.

"C'mon, it's a Hogsmeade weekend," he said. "You've got to come."

His tone was casual enough...classic Ron, but his eyes were so full of hope that they ruined his nonchalant act right away.

Just say yes, Hermione! she instructed herself angrily. It's not that difficult...you KNOW he likes you...the Yule Ball last year pretty much proved that...so why can't you just bring yourself to show you like him too?

"Well?" Ron asked impatiently.

Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes-

"No."

Oops.

Ron scowled at her, and his brown eyes immediately lost their sparkle. "Don't tell me you're staying to do homework."

"I have to, Ron!" Hermione said defensively. "I still have to write my potions essay...I can't just put that off to do something frivolous!"

"Fine," Ron scoffed. "And don't use such big bloody words. You sound like a dictionary."

"Frivolous is NOT a big word, Ron," Hermione snapped angrily. "You're just an idiot."

"Oh, is it that time of the month again?"

Hermione felt her cheeks heat up. "You are SO disgustingly crude and immature."

"Thanks," Ron spat, then turned and stomped out of the common room.

"Idiot," Hermione muttered bitterly under her breath, currently unable to come up with any other word adequate to describe him.

You know you like him, a mischievous voice sang out in the back of her head.

SO? Hermione asked fiercely. That doesn't mean he can't be an idiot! And at the moment, I hate him. Hate him.

Su-ure, the voice said teasingly. That's why you're so upset.

Well, Hermione thought angrily, Wouldn't YOU be upset?

I'm you, remember? the voice reminded her.

"Aurgh!" Hermione groaned aloud, staring angrily at the blank piece of parchment that she had intended to compose her Potions essay on.

There was no way she could write now.

Thanks, Ron, she thought bitterly.

God, she hated him. She hated that smug smile and that never-ending haughtiness in his voice. She hated the way that whenever she was trying to stay mad at him, he could find a way to make her laugh. She hated the way that he could beat her at chess. She hated the way his ears turned red and made him look so adorable.

But most of all, she hated herself for not being able to show that she liked him. After all, he'd already done his part and pretty much announced to the world that he fancied her.

But she just...couldn't.

She was the smart one, the walking dictionary, the Little Miss Know It All. If Parvati and Lavender knew that she actually LIKED Ron, she'd never hear the end of it. How many times had she told them how shallow THEY were because all they talked about (in addition to nail polish, of course) were their boyfriends?

Feeling almost as though she were in a trance, she dipped her quill into her ink bottle and began to scribble furiously.

Five minutes later, she stared down at the paper with a mix of horror and satisfaction, declaring to herself that she would never hand THIS in to Professor Snape.

~*~

"And Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said sternly, "If you EVER attempt to strike Mr. Malfoy again, it's a week's worth of detentions and no Hogsmeade trips for the rest of this quarter!"

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Ron said dutifully.

McGonagall studied him suspiciously for a moment before turning around and slowly walking down the corridor. As soon as she was out of earshot, Ron rolled his eyes.

"Stubborn old bat."

It had been bloody Malfoy's bloody fault! Insulting Hermione like that....

'Where's your girlfriend, Weasley? Where's that Mudblood trash? You mean she wouldn't come with you? That's pretty sad, Weasley....both of you are so desperate that you may as well get together. Would anyone else have either of you?'

"Bastard, bastard, bastard," Ron muttered angrily under his breath, then looked up to the Pink Lady, who was staring down at him in disapproval.

"No, Mr. Weasley," she said stuffily. "I'm afraid that's not our new password."

"Funny," Ron said dryly. "Griffin's blood."

The portrait swung open, and Ron climbed into the Gryffindor common room.

This must be a record, he thought to himself as he stared around at all of the second years and under. Kicked out of Hogsmeade after only twenty minutes.

His eyes scanned the room for Hermione, and he felt his heart drop after realizing she wasn't there.

"Great," he muttered to himself. "Now I'm alone, too."

He wanted to see her. He missed her...sort of. And felt bad about being mean to her earlier.

But of course, he'd never tell her that.

Nope...he'd probably just get on her nerves more.

That worked, too.

Groaning loudly, he stomped up to his dormitory and collapsed onto his bed. This was great. Just great. Fun, fun, fun way to spend a Saturday. Alone in a dorm room with no one but Trevor for company.

"Ribbit," Neville's runaway toad contributed intelligently.

"Aw, shut up."

He shifted on his bed, then swore under his breath as he felt something jab into his neck. Sitting up, he discovered an envelope with his name written on it in neat cursive.

Hermione's handwriting.

Ooh, Hermione's turned into a rebel, he thought in amusement. Sneaking into the boys' dormitory...McGonagall would be so ashamed.

Curiosity taking over him, he slit over the envelope, wondering what in the world would be important enough to cause Hermione to break a rule.

He began to read easily, but stopped at once.

'You look at me with a glint in your eye...'

It was a poem.

Taking a deep breath, Ron began to read it softly to himself.

"You look at me with a glint in your eye

That's saying I'll never know

How you feel

Because I act as though I don't care

You don't think I can feel this way

I'm a stranger to this in your eyes

But can't you see

How much I want to kiss you

How much I want to be with you

But I can't

Because I made this image of myself

Always right

Always perfect

Always the one to say no

When I want to say yes

You don't think I have feelings

You don't think I care about anything you do

You don't think that tears can fall from my eyes

But they do."

~*~

"Hermione Granger, you are an IDIOT!" Hermione muttered in disgust to herself, wondering what in God's name had possessed her to put the poem in Ron's room.

"Idiot, idiot, idiot!" she continued, ranting insanely to herself.

But she could still get it back. He was at Hogsmeade for at least another few hours...

She stood up from her bed at once and rushed from the common room.

What if he came back early? What if he'd already come back? What if he'd FOUND it? What if he was READING IT RIGHT NOW?!

Hermione suddenly felt as though she was going to be sick, and she had to stop and steady herself for a moment before pushing open the door to the fifth year boys' dormitory.

As soon as she stepped into the dormitory, she wished more than anything that the floor would open and pull her down into it.

Ron stood there, the parchment in his hands.

Maybe he didn't notice me coming, Hermione thought, quietly creeping back towards the door. I'll just be going now...

"Hermione."

He didn't even turn around, and yet it wasn't a question.

"What?" she asked weakly.

Ron turned around slowly, his face strangely serious. It almost looked as though it was someone else.

"You...feel like this?" he asked awkwardly.

"Er...uh...um...maybe?"

Oooh, brilliant answer, Hermione.

Ron shrugged with an infuriating grin. "Well, then maybe I do too, I suppose. But if you're not sure, then I guess I can't tell you."

"Well...uh...why aren't you at Hogsmeade?"

"You're changing the subject," Ron noted teasingly.

"Well, would you rather stay on this one?" Hermione snapped.

"Wouldn't mind."

"I would," Hermione said bitterly. "It's too...awkward."

"So you're just going to pretend this never happened?" Ron asked, waving the parchment containing her poem.

"Yes," Hermione said simply. "Now give me that."

"Give you what?" Ron asked sweetly.

"You know what I mean!" Hermione cried. "The...poem. Just give me that."

"But it's mine!" Ron smiled innocently. "The envelope had my name on it and everything...you can't just take it back!"

"Yes, I can, and I WILL, Ronald Weasley!"

"No you can't, and you WON'T, Hermione Granger!" Ron squeaked in a falsetto tone.

"Ro-on!" Hermione whined helplessly, standing on her toes and trying to snatch the letter out of his grasp unsuccessfully. Why did he have to be so TALL?

"Hermi-one," Ron replied with a sickeningly sweet grin.

"I hate you!" she proclaimed angrily, finally giving up and crossing her arms across her chest.

"Really?" Ron asked slyly. "The poem didn't exactly give off a hateful vibe..."

"Oh, shut up," Hermione commanded furiously. "I should have known you would have reacted so immaturely...I just wanted to..."

Hermione's voice trailed off, and she felt a blush rise on her cheeks.

"Wanted to what?" Ron asked softly.

"Never mind," Hermione spat, sinking down onto his bed.

"What is it?" Ron repeated.

"Nothing," Hermione said, a lot more loudly than she'd intended. "I...I'd better get out of here. I don't want to get in trouble."

"God forbid," Ron agreed sarcastically.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him before rising from his bed and rushing out of the dormitory.

Fine. He could keep the letter for all she cared. Keep it and show it to Harry, so they could laugh at how pathetic she was.

Just great.

Groaning, Hermione pushed open the door to the deserted fifth year girls' dormitory and threw herself onto her bed, sighing so dramatically that she reminded herself of Parvati or Lavender.

Maybe she would just fall asleep...fall asleep and pretend that it never happened.

But it appeared that this time, pretending wasn't going to be good enough.

~*~

'...You don't think that tears can fall from my eyes

But they do.'

Ron sighed as he finished reading the poem for what seemed like the millionth time. He hated himself...how bloody idiotic could you get?

"You, Ron Weasley, are an idiot," he proclaimed to himself, then added after a bit of thought, "And an insane one, as well. I mean, really mate, talking to yourself?? This is an all-time low."

He gingerly folded up the piece of parchment that contained the poem and slipped it gently back into the envelope, then slid it under his mattress. After all, he seriously doubted that Hermione would want anyone else to read it.

Maybe...I shouldn't have given her such a hard time earlier, Ron thought uneasily. That poem was pretty personal...

Suddenly, a surge of determination ran through him, and before he knew what he was doing, he'd leaped off of his bed and fetched a piece of parchment and quill from his trunk.

Biting his lip in concentration, he lowered the quill to the parchment, then lifted it again. After repeating this procedure a few times, he decided he may have to do a bit of brainstorming first.

Now, he thought to himself, What rhymes with Hermione??

~*~

Hermione was awoken from her sleep (which was filled with pleasant dreams in which she HADN'T given Ron the poem) what seemed like minutes later. However, after consulting the clock on the wall, she discovered she'd been sleeping for two hours.

It's just as well, she thought to herself as she stretched her arms above her head lazily. I still have to write that awful Potions essay.

By the time she reached the door, however, whoever had been there had seemed to have grown impatient of waiting and left. She was about to shut it and get back to work on Snape's assignment when she noticed a small white envelope sitting on the crimson carpet.

'Hermione' was written on it in a familiar messy scrawl.

Despite her angry feelings towards him, she smiled fondly as she bent over and picked up the envelope. After tearing it open, she unfolded the parchment and began to read, a grin growing wider and wider with each line.

'I know you think I'm a git who doesn't have much class

And that usually, I'm a pain in the ass-'

At this, Hermione stopped reading for a moment to shake her head and mutter, "Oh, Ron" to herself.

'You're scolding me right now, I can tell

Aren't you amazed? I know you so well.

I'm sorry, I'm getting a little off-track

And my poetic 'skills' probably make you go 'ack!'

But anyhow, what I'm trying to say

Is Herm, I think of you every single day

I know I'm a jerk without a Bulgarian accent

And I never bother to ask for your consent

My vocabulary doesn't have many five syllable words

And I'm not one of those Ravenclaw nerds

But if you gave me just one chance

And overlooked the fact that I really can't dance

And that I'm not a five time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award

I'm pretty sure that you'd never get bored

You're so much better than Lavender or Parvati

No one's as bloody brilliant as Hermione.'

Hermione was grinning so widely that she was sure she looked possessed as she finished the poem, and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Ron was so...

"Eh eh ehm."

...Here.

Hermione looked up from the parchment to see him looking expectantly at her.

"So," he asked meekly, "What did you think?"

Hermione responded by throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

"You liked it, then?" Ron asked when she pulled away, grinning at her.

Hermione nodded, then responded, "That was the worst poem I've ever read in my entire life."

Ron nodded. "I guess I was a poet, and I didn't even know it."

Hermione laughed shortly. "Clever," she deadpanned.

Ron beamed at her and enveloped her in another hug.

"Aren't I always?"

THE END