The Weasley Trap by Ziegod Lizski

Chapter 1

            It was amazing how many shades of red Ron Weasley's face could turn—There was carnation pink when he saw a pretty girl, the familiar crimson of embarrassment, the ruddiness of anger. At this moment, Ron's face was nearly purple in a physical show of pure, unbridled ire. There was only one person who could cause this shade—Hermione.

            "Insufferable bitch," he muttered darkly, slumping into a comfy chair between his two twin brothers. Normally, the sight of the roaring common room fire and the familiar Hogwarts musk would make him happy, but after a particular spat with his bushy-haired friend, he was far from delighted.

            "So where's the little vixen now?" Fred asked, grinning.

            "Who? 'Mione? I wouldn't call her a vixen. Stubborn mule is more like it…She's in the library. Mind if I hide out with you guys until this blows over?"

            "Mule? Not Hermione. She's more like a--"

            "Kitten," George finished, "A sex kitten. I don't think a mule could have as nice a booty as 'Mione's."

            "Ugh," Ron mock-gagged in disgust.

            "Come on now, Ronny. Sooner or later you're going to have to admit that your little girlfriend is really quite shagable," George beamed, proud of his ability to push all the right buttons.

            "She is NOT hot. She's Hermione. And she's NOT my girlfriend! When will you two get that through your thick skulls?"

            "Let me tell you a story, Ronniekins," Fred said, wrapping his arm around Ron's shoulders in a brotherly fashion, "Do you remember when Mum sent me and George to that wizard pre-school 'cause we were such a handful? Well, there was this really pretty girl named…er…Let's just call her Angel. Anyway, to let her know I liked her, I would pull her piggytails."

            "Right…And what do piggytails have to do with me and Herm?"

            "Everything."

            "Huh?"

            "Isn't it obvious, little brother? You pull her piggytails, she pulls yours--"

            "It's all sexual tension, really," George chimed in, admiring the way Ron's face was quickly turning magenta with a mix of embarrassment and anger. Groaning, he stood up and stormed off towards the portrait hole.

            "What's his problem?" George simpered.

            "Dunno," Fred shrugged, "But it probably stems from a certain bushy-haired hottie—Hey! Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Georgey boy?"

            "Wow! Are you thinking about Play Wizard playmates in Tahiti rubbing suntan lotion on themselves, too? It must be that psychic twin wavelength thingy!"

            "Uh, not exactly…I was thinking about helping Ronny and Hermione on their way to eternal bliss."

            "You mean play matchmakers?"

            "More on the lines of giving fate a helping hand."

            "Ah, and then the Tahitian babes?"

            "Exactly."

***

            Hermione sat curled up in a quiet corner of the library, comforted by the mustiness of antediluvian volumes, hidden by a mountain of books that balanced precariously on the table before her. Despite how hard she was trying to concentrate, she simply could not focus on writing her Potions essay. She would write a sentence, and then the thought of a certain redhead would float into her mind.

            Curse that Ron Weasley! All she had said was that perhaps there were better uses for time than obsessing over Quidditch and that if Ron spent less time poring over Quidditch Illustrated, then he might make better marks…His voice echoed inside her head:

            "God Hermione! You sound like my mum lecturing me about how I should be more like the great, almighty Percy! At least I have a life! All you have are books!"

            As if! Hermione was proud of her top marks!

            Ron could be such a dunderhead sometimes. But then there were those moments when—when…Hermione's head swam just thinking about it. Some nights when they had to stay up late to study, they would sit close together in the empty common room, warmed by the fire's flickering flames. She smiled as she recalled how every once in a while, their knees would brush—gently, casually—how she could hardly focus on her studying because of the nice clean boy smell emanating from Ron's robes…Yes, there were moments that Hermione wouldn't trade for all the gold in Gringotts…Damn him. He turned her life into a bad Julia Roberts movie.

            Suddenly, two identical heads popped out from behind a shelf of books, shaking Hermione out of her disjointed reverie with their brash voices.

            "Hullo--"

            "There--"

            "Hermio--"

            "Ne!"

            Not looking up from her work and in a dry voice, she responded, "What do you want, Forge?"

            Wiping a tear, Fred announced, "World peace!"

            George nodded and added, "A Tahitian Play Wizard playmate."

            Hermione shook her head, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "Boys."

            "While we're on the subject of wishes, there is a wish that you could grant. You see, Ronnie wants nothing more in the world than to make up with you."

            "Oh, how sweet!" she touched her hand to her heart and batted her eyelashes, "Tell him to eat shit."

            Huffing, she slammed her Potions book shut and left.

            "Man, getting to Tahiti would be easier than getting those two together."

***

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