Ronald's Little Dilemma

Chapter One: Thinking

"Ron, look out!" a voice yelled from behind me. I turned around quickly to see a red ball zooming right towards me. As it got inches away from my abnormally large nose, I caught it and threw it back. Now where was I before my rude little interruption...ah yes thinking about a certain girl, sitting upstairs probably studying her cute little brains out...

"RONALD WEASLEY! Pay attention!" Harry yelled, flying right up in front of me. "Could you at least act like you're interested in the game, instead of in the girl you've been thinking about for the past..." Harry paused, and I watched him, as he mockingly counted on his fingers, "4 years?"

"Shut it Harry," I say, feeling my ears going slightly pink. "For your information I wasn't thinking about 'Mione at all!"

"Who said I was talking about Hermione?" Harry asked, smirking and flying off to rejoin practice.

Ok I admit it. Harry's right, as always. The certain girl I was thinking about was Hermione. I mean, cripes, how can I think of much else? She's been in my head ever since I saw her on the train. 'Course the only way I thought about her then was when she was being a snobby little know-it-all. She was always annoying the criky out of me, in first year was practically all the bloody time! But now I can literally not get her out of my head! It's like she's been implanted there and I can't do anything about it! Not that it bothers me, mind you...

"Ron Weasley! Are you going to play like a Keeper or am I going to have to hire Dean to take your place?" Harry yelled from farther down the field, as yet another Quaffle went sailing behind me, straight into the golden hoop. "Get your head out of the clouds and concentrate!"

Uh Oh...He's really fuming now...look what you did Hermione! Blimey, I cannot believe this! There must be someway to get out of practice...Aha! A Puking Pastille, useful in skipping classes, and for skipping Quidditch practice...

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Note to self: Never, under any circumstance eat a Puking Pastille while hovering in the air, on a broomstick! Disgusting! Ah but I must say, lying in this nice cozy bed in the Hospital Wing does have its advantages, such as sleeping. I don't understand why Harry's so impatient to get out of here!

But anyways, before this whole puking shenanigan, I was thinking about, oh yes, my favorite topic, Hermione Granger. Ok so lemme see...Ah I got it! Second year, when I was twelve years old I had this little crush...a teenie-tiny itsy-bitsy crush, so don't you get all "Aw" on me! I hate when you people do that... Neways, in my second year, I kissed her! That's right, you heard me, I kissed Hermione. 'Course the slight drawback was that she didn't notice because she was petrified.

See because the brilliant mind of a twelve year old Ronald Weasley thinks that if he kissed her, it would be like Snow White waking up from the dead...Well that was obviously not right, as she remained petrified. Stupid muggle fairy tale! Do kids actually go for that stuff?

So anyways Hermione finally wakes up by the end of the year, and this is what really gets me... the hug! See because when she woke up, she ran into the Great Hall, straight towards...mmm-Harry. O' Course she can hug Harry but Ron, oh no heaven forbid she even thinks of such a thing! All I got was a measly little handshake...

Oy speak of the devil...I mean angel. Perhaps I should close my eyes and pretend to be dead! Maybe she'll fall for that muggle thing too!

"Ron, open your eyes!"

Maybe not! Fear not, I can play Hermione's little mind games too! I flip over onto the other side of the bed! Crikey, hope my boxers aren't showing! I hear footsteps. She's smart, that one!

"Ron, come on!" Hermione pleaded, putting both her hands on my shoulders, shaking me trying to wake me up. I push her away grumpily, acting like a ten year old. Why do I always tend to do these things when she's near me? Act immature and all...Oh well, whatever the case may be I don't stop! I turn back around, stubbornly.

Hermione huffs, then I feel a weight by my legs...she sitting down on the bed! Blimey, she's never really been this close to me before!

"If you were Viktor..." she starts.

"What about Vicky?" I growl. Instantly, my eyes are open, and I'm wide awake. I get up so fast; she stands up suddenly, though I catch a glimpse of triumph in her eyes. Cripes Hermione, you always have to ruin the moment!

Oh a little heads up by the way, Viktor, or Vicky as I like to call him, is the root of all my little dilemmas. See, two years ago, in our fourth year, this Bulgarian git has to come up out of nowhere, and ask Hermione to the Yule Ball, which was held that year during the Tri-Wizard Competition. She of course, being the polite, lovely girl she is, says yes. (Hey, don't look at me! Why she would want to go with that babbling idiot is beyond me!) So anyways, Hermione goes to the ball, looking extremely gorgeous...Oy did I just say that? Whatever, so any who Hermione goes to the ball, looking beautiful...There I go again! Where in the name of Merlin are all these adjectives coming from? Continuing on, Hermione goes to the ball with a guy, so not her type and...

"Ron, are you even listening to me?" Hermione asks, bringing me out of my reverie.

"Oh, if it's about Viktor, I hardly wanna hear about it!" I say.

"Are you sure?" Hermione continues, persistently. "Not even if it's about Viktor being engaged?"

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Bloody hell! Did she just say what I thought she said?

"Hermione," I say, staring her in the eye, pleading, "Please say you didn't."

"Didn't what?" She says. Honestly it's hard to believe someone with that many brains could be so slow on the uptake.

"Say yes?" I tell her.

"Oh, good heavens no! He's fallen for some French girl! Ron, you don't think I...Oh you really are too much!" Hermione says, and out of her comes the most melodious sound known to me...her laugh!

I know, I know that sounds really corny and lovey-dovey, but it's true. The best, though, is that I made her laugh. The reason she's producing this harmonious sound is because of me. So while she's laughing her pretty little head off, I will continue thinking about...ah yes, fourth year. So after the ball, Hermione and I get into the biggest fight in the history of our friendship. She says it has to do with me being jealous...honestly! I don't know where she gets these ideas of hers from. Me, jealous? What is she thinking? I mean that's almost as ridiculous as Snape washing his hair, and believe you me, that's pretty ridiculous! There's no reason for me to be jealous! It's not like I fancy her or anything...

"So, Ron," Hermione asks. "What did you do this time?"

"Well you see, I uh..."

Wait I can't tell her the reason I wanted to skip practice! She'd think I was some sort of creep, which I guess is partly true. I mean what sort of sane human being constantly daydreams of a girl he doesn't even fancy?

"Ron, why did you start throwing up during Quidditch practice?" she questions me. "Are you sick?" Is it me or does she sound worried? "Or was it one of those silly treats invented by your unruly brothers?" I guess it was just me...

"Um...well I was feeling kinda tired and had to er...um think about a few things!" I say. Blimey, that was lame. Now I know this will come as a shock, but at times I even embarrass myself.

Hermione looked at me disbelievingly. "Ok well now that you aren't wasting your time flying, you can get started on that homework you've been putting off all weekend."

"But 'Mione," I start. "I'm sick." I say, making the most convincing coughing sound I could muster. Hermione rolls her eyes, and pushes back her hair. Merlin those eyes are pretty, such a perfect melt-in-your-mouth chocolate, and that hair...whoa what is the matter with me? Please say these are just those stupid little hormones every teenage boy goes through. Please don't say that I've actually fallen for my best friend?