quote Lady Norbert: i don’t own these crazy british kids!

warning: there’s plot ahead! tomato my beta reader if you don’t like it—it was her idea. wheeee!

"Ron! Wake up!" Somebody was shaking him. Ron groaned and pushed the offender away, trying to squish himself back into his wonderful dream about chocolate pudding and Hermione’s left—

"Ron, you prat! We have a game in half an hour!"

Ron’s eyes sprung open and all thoughts of Hermione fled. "You’ve got to be joking." Then his eyes registered Harry in full quidditch regalia. He groaned and put a hand over his face.

"Get your ass out of bed, Ron." The door slammed and Ron sat up, greeted by an empty room and a watch screaming "You’re absolutely positively disgustingly LATE!!"

"Bloody hell." He tumbled out of bed and into his quidditch robes as quickly as he could, and managed to make it to the pre-game area, still only half awake. The team was gathered round their pep-talking seeker/captain.

Ron walked up to the circle and stood beside his sister. "About time, Weasley," Ginny said in low tones. She smirked at him and poked him in the leg with her broomstick.

He grabbed the offending broomstick and pushed it back towards her. "Sod off, Weasley," he whispered in warning tones, "or I’ll tell your boyfriend you’ve been reading Hermione’s muggle romance novels." Ginny shot him a murderous glare and quickly pretended to be deeply involved in Harry’s speech. Ron shook his head with a small smile. Harry would probably think it was charming, honestly—like Ron did of Hermione owning the books in the first place—but Ginny had a wider-than-average streak of the already severe Weasley pride.

Ron tried to listen to Harry’s talk, but his mind kept drifting back to bed and dreams. He shook himself mentally. Quidditch. Must concentrate on quidditch. He focused on Harry just in time to catch the end of a speech he had heard numerous times in the past few years. "…because we cannot lose this one, people. We have practiced very hard for months, been out there in rain and wind, we work together better than any professional team out there, and we are most definitely—"

"—the team that deserves to win," Jo and Natalie intoned good-naturedly.

Harry’s eyes widened and he stared at the two chasers for a moment. Then he shook his head and looked around at the team. "All right then, so you know what to do—then let’s do it." He grinned and turned to walk onto the field. Ginny joined the other chasers and followed him; Thomas and Bryant disappeared next, bats in hand. Ron took a deep breath and listened to the roar of the crowd. He couldn’t help but smile as he stepped out.

Sunlight blinded him for a moment, but as he kicked off and got into opening formation with the rest of the Gryffindors, his eyes adjusted and adrenaline kicked into high gear. He suddenly had a thought of Hermione and squinted into the stands for a glimpse of her, but Madam Hooch’s whistle sounded, the quaffle was released, players were everywhere—and Ron’s only thoughts were of quidditch.

***

"That was a bloody brilliant save, mate." Harry, his arm around his favourite chaser, grinned at Ron. "We thought you’d had it with that bludger, and we didn’t have a chance with such a brilliant chaser working against us." Harry winced as Ginny smacked him on the arm. "Not that our chasers aren’t absolutely stunning, of course." He looked at her cajolingly, practically batting his eyelashes. She rolled her eyes at him, but let him kiss her.

Ron tried to put on an annoyed face, but it was merely an attempt to hide his impulse to let out a very schmoopy sigh, which usually surfaced when he saw Harry and Ginny caught up in themselves. Contrary to popular opinion, Ron was all for Harry’s acquisition of his little sister—but it often brought up these pathetic romantic yearnings from out of nowhere. And that annoyed him to no end.

He cleared his throat. Ginny looked at him and laughed, then reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "You did me proud, big brother."

Ron flushed a bit. He did feel good about his quidditch performance, and would have accepted all the praise he could get—except for the fact that he was just as amazed as anyone that he’d managed to stay on his broom and block Ravenclaw’s brilliant final scoring attempt that had left Harry open to catch the snitch. He shrugged and shook his sister off. "Couldn’t’ve won it without Harry, you know that." Ginny smiled but Harry rolled his eyes. Ron raised an eyebrow at them. "And, of course, my wee little sister has a wicked left hook shot." Harry’s mouth curved into a smile and he started to say something, but Ron guessed it would be lecherous and raised his hand to stop him. "Never mind. Let’s just get on with it. Off to the showers." He waved them away, then thought twice and shouted after them. "Separate showers!" Ginny grinned at him over her shoulder and Ron had a sneaking suspicion they weren’t going to follow his advice.

But he decided not to dwell on that. He started slowly towards the castle, enjoying the twilight on the darkening quidditch stands. He had his own shower to take, his own woman to fantasize about. Maybe even do something about. It had been a week since their first encounter and Ron was slowly going mad. He somehow doubted she’d just hop into the shower with him, however. He grinned at the thought. Hermione stepping daintily out of her clothes and getting in the tub, complaining about the water temperature, looking good enough to—

"Ron?"

He spun around and squinted into the lengthening shadows of the field. Hermione stood beside one of the empty stands. He couldn’t quite make out her expression in the dark and he couldn’t for the life of him think of something to say. "What are you doing out here?" was the first thing that came to him. He groaned inwardly. Brilliant, Ronald.

She laughed softly. Sometimes he was sure she could read his mind. "Waiting for you."

He fought back the urge to grin. "Oh, really?" he said with an eyebrow raised, approaching her slowly. "Shouldn’t you be studying? We do have a rough test in potions tomorrow."

The corner of her mouth turned up as she watched him draw nearer. "Ron, I’ve been ready for that test for days."

He stopped, inches from her. "All right, then; shouldn’t you be letting me study?" 

She looked at him appraisingly, seemingly unaffected by his nearness. "You made me late for class, Ron. It’s time for a little turnabout."

These were delicious words. But he wasn’t going to let her have the upper hand straight away.

He chuckled. "Well, then, you’re out of luck, as I am brilliant enough to at the very least pass Snape’s exam, and I just played the best quidditch game of my life. I’m afraid I’m invulnerable."

"Oh really?" Hermione looked pointedly at him and a smartass voice far back in his mind warned that he was in for it.

He ignored the voice. "Certainly."

Hermione shook her head and put a hand in her pocket. "First off, Ron, men are the far more vulnerable sex overall." She didn’t give him a chance to argue. "Second, you should be a bit more cautious about to whom you issue challenges. I happen to know exactly where you are vulnerable." She looked at her hand, keeping it closed around whatever she’d had in her pocket. It seemed about the size of a snitch from what Ron could tell, but he couldn’t see much in the twilight. He shifted his weight impatiently, and she looked at him and laughed. "Curious, Ron? It’s not dessert, if that’s what you’re surmising. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Slowly, she opened her hand. Ron had to lean in to see the small, green, lettuce-shaped lump she was holding, until his forehead was a mere centimeter away from hers.

"A brussel sprout, Hermione?" he said softly, trying not to be distracted by the feeling of her body so near to his.

She smirked at him and he almost lost his nerve and stepped back. "Is your memory that faulty, Ron? You brought this upon yourself, if you’ll recall."

Ron’s mind raced, then thudded to a stop as she pointed her wand at the vegetable and muttered something. She smiled at him triumphantly and held up an honest-to-gods eclair.

His respect for this woman grew exponentially. "You invented a spell?" He shook his head. "Of course you did. You’re bloody brilliant."

Hermione studied him for a moment, then regarded the eclair in her hand. "Must be a compliment to have someone swear about your intelligence," she said, then looked at him innocently and took a small bite out of the sweet.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth. "It’s certainly a compliment when I do it," he answered, keeping his tone as casual as possible.

She examined the nibbled eclair, then dipped her finger into the creamy center. "Yes, well, I wouldn’t expect anything less cryptic and juvenile from a professional tease such as yourself." She held the sweetened finger close to her lips for a moment, then her eyes took on a wicked glint.

His heart was randomly skipping about in his chest and the temptation to give in and kiss her was almost too strong. Not yet, you useless git. He took what he hoped would be a calming breath.

The corner of her mouth turned up in a scheming smile. "You have such a foul mouth," she said, carefully touching his bottom lip with her cream-covered finger.

She lingered for the longest second, leaving a dab of vanilla that Ron immediately had to taste. Hermione watched him dart his tongue over his lip, her face flushing a shade of pink that made Ron’s stomach do cartwheels. He had to suppress the urge to pull her to the ground and ravish her right there on the cold quidditch field.

But he couldn’t give her the upper hand now, at such a crucial juncture. Instead, he ran his tongue over his lip with leisure, watching her intently. He was close enough that he could feel her breathing.

He smiled wickedly. "My mouth can be quite useful, however." He raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t hide the desire in his gaze, but he refused to jump off the cliff first. The moment stretched taut between them. Not giving in. I am not giving in. She is unbelievably gorgeous. I am NOT giving in.

Then she smiled. "Oh, to hell with it." He barely had time to register her words before her lips touched his and the world made sense again.

This time it felt slightly like being caught in the ocean current. He reached a hand up to her cheek, as if to steady himself, and was delighted by the soft heat of her flushed skin. He kissed her again and again, as deeply as he dared, shots of fire coursing through his body. She responded in kind, with as much ardour as she ever had in his fantasies. Her hands danced across his cheeks, his neck, snaked around his shoulders and pulled him to her. He went willingly, getting as close as he could without betraying just how much she affected him. His fingers tangled in her hair and he kissed her hungrily.

He pulled back, catching his breath, wanting to look at her, to take in her pink cheeks and beautiful mouth. She smiled a little smile at him, but her eyes betrayed a bit of uncertainty. "Everything all right?" she asked cautiously.

He grinned and dipped his head down, putting his lips next to her ear. "Better." She laughed softly and he leaned in, gently planting kisses along her jawline. Her laughter became a gasp that sounded suspiciously like his name, and a surge of heat cascaded through his body, headed for the land of no return. Her hands touched his cheeks, pulled his lips back to hers and he willingly partook. He kissed her thoroughly and deliberately, attempting to communicate everything he felt, everything she made him feel. One hand traveled down her arm to interlace fingers with hers, the other exploring where it would, caressing her back lovingly, even hedging smoothly around to her sides and under her breasts. His mind whirled, a vortex of disbelief and absolute abandonment. He never wanted it to end.

Then he heard a whisper behind him. "I knew it."

He froze. It sounded like his sister.

There was another whisper. "Come on, we should go." That one definitely sounded like Harry.

Ron contemplated pretending he hadn’t heard, hoping that they’d leave so that he could keep with the snogging.

Unfortunately, before he got the chance to act on this folly, Hermione pushed him away hastily. He looked at her, surprised, but she ignored him, instead calmly rearranging her robes and smoothing her hair back to normal.

"Yes?" She looked at Harry and Ginny casually, as if she hadn’t just been in a very passionate embrace with the person standing not a foot to her right. Ron stomach suddenly sank and the wicked voice in his head piped up helpfully. I told you you were in for it. You just thought I meant something else.

Ginny laughed softly. "We were looking after you; there’s quite a knees-up happening in Gryffindor and they’re starting to clamour for their game MVP." She smiled, her eyes twinkling. "But we can go back and tell them you’re otherwise engaged, if you want."

"No!" Hermione said emphatically, startling everyone. "I think this should stay between us," she said hastily, looking from Ginny to Harry with a mostly-disguised look of panic on her face. She laughed, the sound almost cutting through the surprised silence. "And I think a party sounds wonderful, don’t you?" She glanced at Ron quickly, her gaze skating around his face, never really looking at him.

See? the wicked voice cackled.

Ron’s heart began to thud in his ears.

Ginny studied Hermione, who stood with her arms crossed. Ron got the feeling his little sister knew something he didn’t. "All right then," she said cheerfully, "let’s get on with it. Come on, Hermione, I’ll walk up with you." She grabbed Hermione’s hand and started up the hill, sneaking a pointed look towards Ron and Harry over her shoulder while the older girl was otherwise occupied.

Harry seemed to get the hint, for he stayed back with Ron, regarding him hesitantly. "Er—Ron?

Ron looked at Harry reluctantly. "What?"

Harry frowned. "Are you all right?"

His mind felt like it was being squeezed into a very small space. "Guess."

Harry laughed dryly. "You weren’t expecting her to dismiss it, were you?"

"No." Ron ran a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell, Harry. What’s she playing at?"

Harry shrugged. Ron could tell he didn’t know what to say. A sour laugh escaped him. "She’s going to drive me mad."

Harry chuckled. "I know."

Ron paused. "Guess it’ll have to do," he said, his jaw clenched slightly.

Harry tried to cheer him up. "Most people would pay to be in such a situation, you know—friends with snogging rights."

Ron had to smile at this. "True."

There was another moment of silence. Harry looked up towards the castle. "Ginny wasn’t kidding; everyone in Gryffindor is waiting for you." Ron didn’t reply. Harry tried another tack. "You have something better planned than butterbeer, fizzing whizbees and a hundred adoring fans?"

Ron laughed and threw his hands in the air. "Fine! On with it, then. I say we get drunk because I’m all out of ideas."

--------

i’m not even going to te pretend that ron likes snogging more than playing quidditch. get real. maybe if they were—er—making the secret sign of the eight-legged aardvark—then quidditch might have some competition. but not until then. (ooo is that foreshadowing? <cackle>)

'schmoopy' is self-explanatory, in my opinion. if you have any questions, watch Seinfeld.

i’m not a sports-writer. fill in the quidditch match if you want. and—er—i didn’t feel like re-reading all the books to get the terms right, so if it’s supposed to be a club not a bat, or if they’re goals, not scores, then tell me please!

i always imagine the showers at hogwarts to be these big claw-footed bathtubs with white curtains. just run with it, okay?

and DAMN i was doing so well without plaguarizing … then the last line happened … <sigh> everybody repeat after me ‘Alan Rickman RULES!’ especially in Dogma.