Natural Instincts

"Where is that book?" Hermione whispered in aggravation, her chocolate brown eyes searching desperately through the titles in the dark dusty aisles of the Hogwarts library. She sighed in frustration, because she knew it was here, somewhere.

Hermione glanced at the sheet of parchment in her hand. Yep, it read 'Mother Nature and Her Unexplainable Forces' by J. L. Medon. There were no mistakes in her neat penmanship. She looked hopefully at the shelves one more time.

"Is this what you are looking for?" came a sardonic drawl from behind her.

Hermione turned around, knowing what to expect.

Draco grinned triumphantly, the coveted book in his hands. She glanced at it quickly.

"That's the one," she replied dully, glaring expectantly.

He just smiled. A strange, surprised smile. Hermione wasn't sure exactly what it was.

"Just give me the book, Malfoy," Hermione requested impatiently. An encounter with the one that was Draco Malfoy never was pleasant, and she knew her inquiry was hopeless. Hermione knew that he would never hand it over. That was just his sadistic manner.

He continued to smile, taking all of her in.

She groaned audibly and stormed off, out of the library.

Several minutes later, Ron trudged reluctantly into the library. He took a quick look around, and after not finding what he was looking for, headed for the exit.

"Hey, Weasley!"

Ron knew that voice. He moaned and turned around. Draco Malfoy was seated rather comfortably at one of the tables, with an enormous book on his lap. Ron noticed the conspicuous absence of his dim-witted cronies.

"What do you want?" Ron snapped rudely.

"Sit down," he suggested as politely as a Malfoy was capable of, and pulled out a chair.

Taken aback, Ron replied, "Hell no."

Draco sighed in mock-hopelessness and said, "Fine, but give this to your girlfriend," holding up the book that Hermione had been looking for.

His heart leaped, as it did whenever someone called Hermione his girlfriend. He hated it, but loved it. It was a great idea to fantasize about...late at night, when all was dark and no one else was awake.

Ron glared loathingly at Malfoy. "She's not my girlfriend," he replied through gritted teeth, and marched forward to grab the book.

"It's a funny thing that you knew exactly who I was talking about, though," Malfoy retorted mockingly.

Ron's blood was raging. Draco Malfoy always made his blood rage, as a Malfoy's sole purpose in life was. And there was nothing he hated more than when he mentioned Hermione. Hermione was this elusive target to Ron Weasley. A dream that will never come true, a fight that will never be won. To Ron, Hermione was the breath of air that kept him alive, what kept him moving every day. He knew there wasn't a chance. But he couldn't give up on her. He was in too deep of love with her. And no one needed to know that...

Especially Draco Malfoy.

Ron continued to glare menacingly at the Slytherin prefect that he detested so much.

Draco gave a cruel smile. He held up the book and examined it, knowing that Ron was watching him.

"Fine, take the wretched book to your....friend. Shame she's a Mudblood, because she's quite a doll, when I think about it," he added, more to himself than anything else.

That was the last straw for Ron. Nothing at that moment could have stopped his fist from braking Draco Malfoy's nose, or breaking every single solitary bone in his body. Ron couldn't hear anything around him, not Draco's girlish squeals of pain, his own knuckles cracking as they clobbered Malfoy's face, Madam Pince cry of 'Stupefy!'...

* * *

"He did WHAT?"

"Miss Granger, keep you voice down! He should be awake any minute," Madam Pomfrey demanded in a loud whisper.

Remnants of the Hospital Wing swam strangely in front of Ron. He could vaguely make out two people standing to his left, one bent over him, feeling his forehead, and the other with her arms across her body, and a frown on her charming face.

"Oh, he's all right, now," Madam Pomfrey announced as Ron sat up slowly. "A dose of Pepper-Up Potion and he'll be back to his stubborn old self," Madam Pomfrey said to herself and she dashed off.

Hermione took a few steps forward, and uncrossed her arms. But her disapproving frown was steadfast.

Ron opened his mouth, but Hermione beat him to it. "Ron, are you okay?" she asked cautiously, looking him over.

"I'm fine, Hermione," he replied dully, and thought that Hermione always makes too much of little things.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he said emphatically, rolling his eyes in aggravation.

"Positive?"

Ron glowered at her.

"Good," she said and slapped him across the head unexpectedly.

"Hey, what was that for? Have you lost your-" Ron began angrily as he put his hand to the place where she had whacked him, with much force than he thought she was capable of.

"Ron, how many times do I have to tell you to ignore him? He's just an unintelligent, arrogant, immature, manipulative Death-Eater-to-be and you shouldn't waste your time on him! As long as he doesn't have a wand in his hand, his words can't do anything to you, so please stop all of this nonsense!" Hermione pleaded meaningfully, looking Ron deeply in the eyes.

"Hermione, it's a lot more-"

"What could he have said that's so bad?" Hermione inquired confusedly. She never understood how or why Ron and Harry reacted like they did. She was always able to keep her cool...well, almost...

Ron sighed nervously, and ran his fingers through his hair. He never thought about this part before he attacked Malfoy. Well, he didn't really think about anything before he attacked Malfoy. He could feel his ears begin to burn. How was Hermione going to react to this?

"He, um, he uh, called you a -"

"Ron, I don't care if he calls me a Mudblood. And neither should you! Its-" Hermione exploded furiously.

"Um, that's not what he called you," Ron interrupted quietly and in humiliation, the horrible burning sensation moving to his face. He gazed down at his hands, unable to look her in the eyes.

Hermione began to notice that something was different. This was not right, not normal, she pondered musingly. Being as intelligent as she was, she recognized the signs. Red face, embarrassed tone, inability to look up...

Her curiosity was pumping. For once, she had no idea what was going on...

"What was it?" she asked remarkably, dying to know the answer.

Ron sighed apprehensively, and wished that he could have been almost anywhere in the world right then, except for in the Hospital Wing with Hermione asking that terrible question.

"He called you a doll," he blurted out bitterly. The words had fallen out of his mouth so quick he wasn't even sure if he had actually said them.

A moment of silence.

"Oh," Hermione replied. That had to be the last response in the word she was expecting. Questions were flowing a hundred words a second in her head. Doll? Are you serious? Draco Malfoy, the cowardly, cunning, conceited, horrible, Draco Malfoy, call me, a doll? Well, if that was not one of the most flattering things she had ever heard in her life, then...another question came to mind, which she decided to voice.

"Ron, what's so wrong with that?" she asked, almost laughing to herself.

Ron's eyes were wide. "What do you mean, what's wrong with that? This is Malfoy, we are talking about! You don't mind him calling you something like that?" he practically shouted; even though Hermione wasn't a foot from his face. His blood was boiling, yet again.

"Honestly, no. It's quite flattering, even if it is from Draco Malfoy," Hermione confessed, rather awkwardly. She bit her lip, the atmosphere was so intense. "Why would you get so angry about that?"

He hesitated. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but no one is allowed to call you something like that, even though it's not really...offensive," Ron replied defiantly. It was more than offensive; Ron thought hotly, he had no right to call her something like that. Not Hermione. Anyone but Hermione...

Hermione was looking at him rather strangely. It was resentment, but grateful, pleased, but confused, flattered, but unsure.

She knew that Ron was protective of her, he always has been. The Mudblood comments were one thing, but doll? No, this was something completely different. When Ron blew up over mentions of Hermione's background it was out of sticking up for a friend, standing up for the belief that Magical or Non-Magical background meant nothing. But blowing up after this seemed out of...jealousy, and defense over trespassing into his territory...

What does this all mean?

Ron's heart was pumping angrily again, and to control himself he tightened his fists together, gazing straight ahead.

Hermione smiled at him. She leaned over, and kissed him on the cheek.

Ron's furious and rash composure evaporated immediately. He couldn't move.

"Thanks, Ron," she said tranquilly, still an inch or two from his face.

His face was burning, but his heart had soared high.

"Anytime," he replied, in an unusually high voice. He swallowed nervously and turned his head towards her.

She was smiling. She took a deep breath. Should she?

He smiled back. Should he?

They both felt compelled to move forward, to lean in...a natural instinct was forcing them together...

But at that moment, Madam Pomfrey walked in, a flask of Pepper-Up Potion in hand. "Here you are Mr. Weasley," she said, slapping it in his hand.

"Thanks," he replied, even though his eyes were still locked on Hermione.

Madam Pomfrey eyed the two of them suspiciously. "Take your potion, Mr. Weasley," she ordered warningly.

Ron winked capriciously. Maybe there was a chance...

He'll just have to let nature take its course.