Just some notes about the fic before we begin: They're in seventh year, and none of the Book Six stuff ever happened. 'Cause they're still in Hogwarts. And Ron and Hermione aren't all "love-y dove-y". And Draco totally didn't run off with Snape. Stupid JK….
Stuck In Love
Part One
Nachzes Black-Rider
It was a cold, dreary grey November morning when Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger hurried down the soggy grounds towards the greenhouses, and, eminently, seventh year Herbology class.
"Bloody rain," Ron muttered, wincing with each loud squelch his trainers made. "Sprout better not have a class planned outside today, else I'll kill her." A pause. "I'll kill those bloody Slytherins, too," he added sourly, wincing again.
Squelch.
Squelch.
Squelch.
"Bugger."
"Ron!"
"What!"
"You shouldn't swear! You're a prefect, remember?"
"Hermione, I—auugh!" Ron leapt back as a large mud-ball sailed towards him; but, evidently, he didn't jump quick enough, for the filth splattered all over the front of his robes; getting him in the face, too.
"Ha ha! Looks like Weasley needs a new set of robes; don't you, Weasley?" Draco Malfoy crowed proudly, a derisive smirk playing over thin lips. Ron glared at him and attempted to lunge forward, but Harry and Hermione seized him by the arms and dragged him back.
"Ronald, don't!" Hermione protested, pulling the fuming redhead backwards.
"He's not worth it, mate," Harry said sagely, straining to keep his grip on the arm of his companion. "And besides," he added, attempting to coerce the other into cooperating, "you can get him back in Herbology."
Hermione suddenly dropped Ron's arm, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "We're nearly late! Hurry, Harry; and you too, Ron!" And she took off down the verge, her sodden robes streaming out behind her.
"Damn it," Ron grumbled, shaking himself loose from Harry's grasp and attempting to clean the mud off his robes. "These were my last pair! And we can't afford any more—we're strained enough as it is, with Percy in the family again."
Uncomfortable, Harry nodded and slapped his friend on the back, leading the way down the hill towards the greenhouses. "On the bright side, mate," he called back, "Hermione probably knows a spell that can not only clean your robes, but dry them, too."
"Now there's a thought…."
There was a loud gonging noise, and a huge ruckus as a fleet of owls took off from the roof of the castle, and both boys groaned. "Late again," Ron moaned. "That's the third time this week; I'm gonna get a detention for this one."
But, to his surprise, when he and Harry sprinted into the greenhouse, Professor Sprout was already busy scolding two other students.
"…fifty points from Slytherin, Mister Malfoy! I've never heard such appalling language in my class!" (Harry and Ron exchanged looks of glee at this, but their mouths fell open in shock at the professor's next words.) "And you, Miss. Granger! Fifty points from Gryffindor for your most un-lady-like actions; and you both have detentions with me at five o'clock on Saturday." Looking ruffled, she turned around and addressed the class: "Get back to your work stations, now; we've a lot to do this class."
Ron and Harry glanced at each other, stunned, and hastened over to join Hermione at her workstation. "What happened?" they both asked in tandem, eyes wide.
Her mouth twisted in a sour expression, and she dug her trowel viciously into the dirt before her. "Malfoy," she bit out, "was impersonating Ronald after he'd gotten hit by the mud-ball when I came into the class." She paused to set her trowel down and pulled on her gloves, beginning to stir up the dirt with her hands. "Then I guess he spotted me, because he said something to the Slytherins that made them laugh, and then he…" she blushed madly, though Harry and Ron weren't sure whether it was from rage, embarrassment, or a combination of the two, and muttered the next five words under her breath. "…And then he kissed me," she said.
Harry and Ron's jaws dropped. "HE WHAT!" they both yelled, earning them twin glares from Professor Sprout and Hermione.
"You heard," Hermione said.
"So what did you do?" Ron persisted, pulling on his own pair of gloves.
"Well…" Hermione stalled, "obviously, I was very shocked, so I just stood there…and then I pushed him off and asked him what in the seven bloody Hells he was trying to do, and he responded with a very articulate expletive, and told me that he wanted to see if 'the Mudblood' would spread her legs to accommodate just anybody, or just you two." She flushed deeper, and glared at Ron, who had launched off into a spiel of loudly punctuated expletives of his own. "And then he made this big show of wiping his mouth clean, and I guess that was it, because I tried to hex him; but Professor Sprout stopped me before I could."
At this revelation, Harry and Ron looked a little more than slightly disappointed, and the latter muttered something about "teaching that blond bastard a lesson", to which Hermione shushed him hurriedly.
"Do you want to get detention with him, too?" she hissed, and Ron's scowl deepened.
"Would be worth it," he insisted.
"Fine," Hermione snapped, "but don't come crying to me to 'help' you with your homework because you've had no time to work on it!" And she stormed off towards the bins of fertilizer, leaving a dreadfully confused Ron, and an equally baffled Harry in her wake.