to quote Jules, i own nothing—suing is futile.

Ears still red, but feeling much more relaxed, Ron checked that the coast was clear and scuttled up to his dormitory, books still in tow.

"Honestly, Ron, you’re the worst sneak." Harry smirked at Ron from the doorway. Ron groaned.

"Listen –-"

Harry held his hand up, shaking his head. "No, no, don’t fret, your secret is safe with me." Ron let out a breath. "As long as you tell me what you’re going to do with that book of hers." Harry raised an eyebrow suggestively.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Nothing like that, you silly prat."

"Well, what, then?"

Ron sighed. Time to modify the plan, apparently. "Look here," he said, pointing to the scribbled word on page 394.

Harry had to chuckle. "So you think Hermione has some sort of secret passion for fluffy desserts?"

Wasn’t it obvious? "Well … yes."

Harry looked impatient. "And?"

Ron flustered slightly. "And I was thinking about having a little fun with it."

Comprehension dawned on Harry. "So that’s what made you so –-" he grinned "cheerful in McGonegal’s class today. Dreaming of Hermione covered in desserts again?"

This time Harry didn’t escape a brawl for his cheek, and unfortunately for him, Ron’s sibling-filled childhood and tall personage gave him a definite advantage.

"Wait! Wait!" Harry yelled before Ron completely flattened him. "She knows!"

Ron stopped short, mid-throw.

"What?" He even sounded panicked to his own ears.

"She knows! When you sprinted to the washroom, she glared at me and muttered something about eclaires."

Ron groaned and ran a hand over his face. "Why does that woman have to be so bloody brilliant?"

Harry chuckled. "Because otherwise your life would be no fun."

Ron’s eyes snapped open. "I’ve got it! I’ll just erase what she wrote — I’m sure there’s some spell, right? that’ll leave no trace? — and give it back to her! She’ll be so confused she won’t approach me about it — you know how she hates to admit she’s doesn’t understand something."

Harry smirked. "Sounds brilliant, mate. Too bad she’s probably the only one who knows the right spell."

***

"Here you go, with no extraneous damage, I promise." Ron handed Hermione the Bildred book and walked past her to sit in an armchair by the common room fire, where he promptly pretended to busy himself with the latest issue of Shot in the Dark: The Chudley Cannon Weekly Reader. He surreptitiously watched Hermione quickly scan the pages of Bildred the Brave and snap it shut in frustration. That was his cue. He closed his reader and looked over at her. Her eyebrows were drawn together in a barely-disguised look of bewilderment. "Something wrong, Hermione?"

"What?" Her gaze snapped over to him. "Oh — um, no. I was — I was just thinking — about the transfiguration paper I need to write."

"Ah, yes." Ron nodded sagely. "The one due in three months. Of course. Silly me."

She picked up her books and stood, glaring down at him with moxy that Ron found unerringly sexy. "Unlike some," she said emphatically, "I have more in my life than fantasies!" and marched off.

Ron watched her walk away, the familiar movements bringing a smile to his face. She was definitely unsettled. Perfect. Time to begin Phase 2.

***

"Hermione?" It sounded funny to whisper but Madam Pince was already irked enough at his mere presence in the library.

"What?" Hermione whispered distractedly, unwilling to tear her eyes away from her book.

"Can I—er—can I borrow your copy of the book for McGonagal’s class?" He tried to put on his best wounded puppy dog expression.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What happened to your copy? Another toilet mishap?"

Ron huffed. "If you must know, we couldn’t afford to buy it for me, so I’ve been borrowing Harry’s when I can. And today I can’t."

Hermione’s expression immediately softened. "Oh, Ron, I’m sorry. Yes, of course you can. I think I’ll be fine in class today."

"Oh, please! You’d be fine in class six months from now!"

She blushed and waved the book at him to shush him. "Never you mind. Just get your work done and get it back to me."

"Fine." He shot her a teasing smile and left. When he got out into the hallway, he opened the book, just to check. The pages were blindingly new and definitely blank of student scribblings. Which was just fine with him.

***

Juvenile chatter bounced off the walls of the Great Hall, as it tended to do on Friday nights. Ron tucked in to the dinner that has just appeared on his plate, maintaining a facade resembling his normal reverence for eating.

Then he heard Hermione gasp.

"Ron!" He looked up at her with an inquisitive look on his face, as if shocked at her tone. She narrowed her eyes at him and pointed to the eclair sitting innocently on her plate. "Don’t even think of pretending you had nothing do with this!" she hissed at him in low tones. "I am not daft!"

"Well, what?" he said matter-of-factly. "Thought it’d be a nice treat." She gave him a glare and opened her mouth to protest but he would have none of it. "Perhaps you should eat it before it—I dunno, mysteriously disappears." He smiled at her and went back to his own meal—until a bit of toast literally flew off his fork and landed somewhere in the vicinity of the Slytherin table. He looked up, genuinely surprised, and saw Hermione’s face dangerously close to his, wand out, gaze intent & angry.

"If you think that you can parade around, mocking me for one lousy indiscretion—and believe me i regret ever lending you that book—then you’ll simply have to grow up because I couldn’t care less. And if you’ll please excuse me, I have work to do."

And with that she left. Ron tried to think but it seemed his brain had just slammed headlong into a bowl of pudding.

"You okay, Ron?" Ron started. "You look kind of flushed." Harry smirked. "Too many chocolate-covered dreams?"

"Shut it!" Ron aimed the rest of his muffin at Harry’s head and chucked it hard.

Harry caught it and laughed. "Never throw anything at a seeker, mate. "

***

She gave him a suspicious look and didn’t touch the transfiguration book he placed in front of her.

"I didn’t hex it, Hermione."

She blinked, than smiled sugary sweetness at him. "Thought never crossed my mind." She picked the book up and put it in her bag, refocusing immediately on the charms assignment in front of her.

Ron sat down in the nearest chair with his own bag of books, his eyebrows scrunched together. That wouldn’t work at all — he wanted to be there when she found what he’d written. "Er—Hermione?"

"What, Ron? Don’t you have any work of your own to do?" She didn’t bother looking at him.

Ron tried to think of something innocent he could say to get her to look at her transfiguration book, but failed. He sighed. Hermione looked at him questioningly. "Never mind," he said dejectedly, going back to his own heaps of schoolwork.

All was not lost, however…twenty minutes later, he heard Hermione’s sharp intake of breath, looked up and saw her flushed cheeks and wide eyes.

Bingo.

She glanced at him but immediately looked down again, looking a little lost.

And all at once he couldn’t force himself to be catty with her. He looked around the crowded common room, leaned towards her, and said her name quietly. She flushed a darker shade of pink, took a deep breath, then looked him in the eye. He couldn’t quite think of what to say. "Listen—"

"No, Ron, don’t bother." She looked determined to seem unaffected. She reached for her quill and scribbled something in the book she was holding before handing it back to him. "If you’re so insistent on passing notes…Here." And she promptly settled back with her potions book as if nothing was amiss.

Ron gaped at her, then glanced down at the transfiguration book. A slow grin spread across his face.

At the top of the page in his hasty scribble was the message she’d just found: "…wonder if Hermione tastes as good as eclaires…" And below it, in her clear handwriting, was her reply.

"…better."