The Weasley Trap

When we last left our heroes...

“But why would Hermione go after you when she’s already got--”

“Because she’s discontent with Ron’s…performance, that’s why. She needs a nice, strong beater with a very large…club.”

“No, you great git! Don’t you--”

“Of course, it’s not the size of the wave but the motion of the ocean that really matters.”

“Would you just shut up and listen? I’m trying to say that the only reason why Herm would hit on you is that she knows about our little plan…However, they don’t know that we know they know!* So keep at it, boy! We’ll show them not to mess with Forge Weasley!”

***

While George talked to Fred, Hermione snuck off to talk to Ron.

“I think Fred figured it out!” she said, a worried expression on her face that Ron found strangely endearing.

“You mean they know we know?”

“Yes, but they don’t know we know they know we know! I’m going to go flirt with George some more. He’s so dumb he’ll hit on anything with breasts.”

Ron blushed, realizing that Hermione did in fact have breasts, mentally slapping himself each time his eyes gravitated towards her chest region...Damn, that Aberzombie and Witch shirt really did look good on her.

***

After hours of flirting with George, Hermione was thoroughly exhausted. Eventually, though, because of the bludger injury, George forgot why Hermione was hitting on him. Sensing this, Hermione winked and said, “Why don’t we go somewhere a little more...private.”

“But we are alone.”

This was true. The common room was empty, as everyone was at dinner, except for Ron and Fred, who were well-hidden.

George, being George, nonetheless heartily agreed, and the two set off for a utility closet next door to the Great Hall.

“Okay,” said Hermione, once they were safe in the darkness of the closet, “Take off your pants.”

“Aren’t we a feisty one.” George rather enjoyed the liberating feeling of a fresh breeze around his privates. Hermione stifled giggles, noticing that George was wearing telly-tubby underpants.

“Well, I guess they’re better than tighty-whiteys,” she thought, wondering how and why he bought telly-tubby knickers.

She conjured up a blindfold, which George said was “kinky,” apparently pleasing to him.

“Now, make sure not to open your eyes. It’s a surprise.”

Quickly, she pushed him out of the closet, down a corridor, and into Great Hall. George removed the blindfold to see the entire student body pointing and laughing at him. Of course, the situation was worsened by the telly tubby underpants.

“You’re amazing,” Ron said, bowing in homage to the new Prankster Princess. “Seriously, in seventeen years, no one has ever been able to pull one on the twins. I never knew you had it in you.”

“Well, there’s more to a book worm than meets the eye.”

At this moment, Ron realized that Hermione was still in her skanky get up. With her slightly tousled hair, she looked...well, she looked hot. All of the sudden, he had the feeling that he really, really wanted to kiss her. But Ron, being a dopey, ducky sort of guy, did the closest thing--he hugged her.

In an instant, Hermione was swept into Ron’s lanky arms, enveloped by the Ronnish smell emanating from his robes.

“Ron would be easier to hate if he didn’t smell so good,” she thought. “You know, our relationship would be much less complicated if he would just quit bathing.”

It was strange being in his arms--she had never actually been that close to him. Sure, she was used to half-armed hugs at the beginning and end of each school year, but never anything as intimate as this. It was actually rather nice, except for the fact that Ron’s arms were cutting off the air flow to her lungs.

“Um, Ron, you’re choking me.”

He blushed, not realizing how strong he had been embracing her.

“Right-o mate,” he said, saluting her.

He blushed even deeper now, as a salute wasn’t exactly the appropriate gesture to give a girl he really wanted to kiss...In fifteen years of life, Ron Weasley had never been able to say the right thing.

***

Because the prank had cost Hermione several hours of prime studying time, she had locked herself in her dorm in order to catch up. Ron, in a desperate attempt to forget that he had actually wanted to kiss Hermione, was out by himself. This left Harry alone in the common room, staring bemusedly at the scene that was unfolding before him.

Fred and George did not look very happy. Ginny, who had filled out quite a bit since the last year, was caught between them. As she was about their height and had the same red hair, they looked like a three-headed monster, even more vicious than fluffy.

Fred and George were apparently trying to convince her to spy on Ron and Hermione for them. Judging by the ruddy shade taking form on Ginny’s face, the idea wasn’t going over very well with her.

“Oh please,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you two just leave them alone? I mean, Hermione’s my friend. I wouldn’t want to break her trust.”

“So you’re choosing Granger over us, your own flesh and blood?”

“No, actually, I’m choosing Ron over you.”

Fred feigned tears. “But I thought I was your favorite brother!”

“Actually, that would be Percy...Listen Fred, I’ve got a huge Transfig test tomorrow, so I’d appreciate it a lot if you’d leave me alone, and if you don't,” she attempted a sly grin, which quickly faded into giggles, “I’ll tell the whole school about that note from your little ‘Angel’ that Mum found in your sock drawer.”

Fred turned purple and mumbled an excuse, running up the stairs to the boys’ dorms. George looked terribly confused. Of course, ten seconds later, he started humming an indiscernible melody, a blank look painted across his face. The bludger injury had severely damaged his short-term memory, and if his attention wasn’t held, he would tune out, thinking of Tahitian babes. Lavender walked by, wagging her butt in a miniskirt, and he chased after her, leaving Ginny alone with Harry. She rolled her eyes, slumping onto a couch. She blushed when she noticed that Harry was staring at her intently. She tried to focus on her homework but grew even more flustered as she accidentally dropped her quill onto the floor, which rolled toward Harry. She went to pick it up, but in an instant, Harry was there, and the two reached to grab it at the same time. Their hands touched, and their faces were but centimeters apart.

Ginny’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding so loudly that she was afraid Harry could hear it. Harry wondered how he had never noticed that Ginny’s mouth parted--ever so slightly--when she was deep in thought, as she appeared to be now. She gave a small smile and a weak chuckle, trying to dispel the fact that she felt as if her insides were turning into marmalade.

“C’mon,” Harry thought, giving himself an internal pep-talk. “She’s just Ron’s kid sister...Ron’s totally hot kid sister...Man, when did she get so hot? Must have been while I was off fighting Voldemort...Note to self: spend less time saving the world and more time checking out hotties.”

Harry’s internal monologue was quite horrifying, but at least he wasn’t thinking about Tahitian babes.