Out of the Cupboard

Out of the Cupboard: Part I

 

            Hermione was sitting right across from Ron in the library. She was researching some sort of essay, and Ron was watching her skim through another Arithmancy book. He and Harry were quietly working on new predictions for Divination, deciding which one of them would be struck by lightning, and who would be drowning in the lake.

            “I’m sorry, but I just don’t like the idea of being in the lake with all those Merpeople again, they creep me out. You go ahead and take that one, Ron,” Harry said.

            A few tendrils of her bushy hair had fallen from her barrette and were dangling inches from her nose. Ron stared wistfully as she unconsciously furrowed her brow, and blew them away from her face, only to have them fall back again near her nose. He wanted so much to brush the hair away from her face himself, if only to count the light dusting of freckles on her nose again. In fact, he probably would have done anything to touch her again, and the thought of him doing so nearly drove him over the brink.

            It has only been a few weeks since term had started, and unfortunately for Ron and his girl (as he secretly called her in his mind), it had become increasingly more difficult to find time alone together. Most of the time, only stealing moments alone to grope each other madly whenever they could get the chance. They had both agreed not to tell Harry about their newfound relationship (as she called it). Though sometimes, he didn’t understand why himself. Ron was thankful the Quidditch season was beginning soon, and would give them a better chance to be alone together without the intrusion of Harry or his siblings.

            And it wasn’t as though Harry thought of them together as a bad thing. Ron was sure Harry suspected something, as on occasion, Harry would ask him why he had become more ‘tolerant’ of Hermione’s usual nags and rants. But Ron would play dumb and deny any accusation that Harry had of his feelings for her. It wasn’t too often though; luckily for them, Ginny was beginning to attract Harry’s attention away from them.

            Really, it wasn’t that he was more ‘tolerant’ per se, but it was just that he would rather be snogging her than arguing with her. And he liked the kissing Hermione far too much to let his opinions get the best of him. At least for now. So for the most part, he kept his mouth shut. Besides, he wasn’t the only one that had become more tolerant. Hermione had been less nagging and pushy since that night at the pond, so he assumed that she felt the same way about arguing.

            Hermione looked up from her book and caught Ron staring at her, and sent him a faint smile in return, before she returned to her usual quips about Divination.

            “Honestly you two! Why don’t you just have a house fall on Harry? And Ron, you can break out into a severe rash,” she said sarcastically.

            Both Ron and Harry turned to each other with deep grins in their faces, before they both returned to their parchment, scrawling frantically, while Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to her book.

            Smiling happily to himself, Ron sucked on the end of his quill as he thought of how to elaborate on Hermione’s brilliant idea, when he felt a slight brush against his leg. He thought nothing of it at first, until he suddenly felt another one, this time slower and more firm. He looked up at Hermione, who was nonchalantly continuing her studies. He glanced over to Harry, to see if he had noticed, but of course was unwise to Hermione’s sudden advances. He smiled inwardly at the girl’s genius and began stroking the leg back.

            Soon, Hermione’s shoes were off, and he could feel her toes beneath her soft kneesocks traveling up the inside of his trouserleg. He remained calm, though he could feel his entire body flush at her touch, along with the intense heat growing even further up his legs.

            “How is she able to do that? Just sit there and pretend as though nothing is going on? Doesn’t she know how she is driving me mad?” he thought wildly, finding it more difficult to focus on his assignment, as she was now rubbing his leg in a slow, deep rhythm. He had to stop her, before he couldn’t stop himself climbing over the table and jump her in front of everyone.

            Ron caught her calf in between his legs and squeezed hard, stopping her momentarily. He caught her eye and gave her a warning look before releasing her leg again, which didn’t move from its current position as he did so. He watched her cautiously as Hermione glanced at Harry, scratching his head with the tip of his quill and began writing again. She again looked at Ron, giving him her most innocent smile, and winked at him. At once, her leg continued up it’s regular path up his leg and inner thigh, and stopping just before her toes could settle on his . . .

            “Agh!” Ron squealed, banging his knee hard on the table.

            “What is it?” asked Harry, as Ron felt Hermione’s toes quickly retreat from his leg and back to her own side of the table.

            “I–I,” Ron stuttered, not knowing how to explain himself. He looked around the rest of the library, feeling the flush that had centered in his trousers rush back up to his face, as the other students looked at him in interest. Even Madam Pince was giving him a grievous look. “Something bit me,” and then smacked himself mentally for saying something so ridiculous.

            Harry eyed him suspiciously. “Okay . . .”

            “Well,” Hermione said casually, getting up from the table, “ I’m going to find another book, this one doesn’t seem to have what I’m looking for.” She smiled politely and swished away across the room, before she turned into an aisle to lose herself in endless rows of books.

            Ron waited a moment longer before he got up himself, still rubbing his knee. “I think I’m going to go to the toilets myself and check my knee.”

            “All right,” Harry said, not looking up from his parchment, but noticeably smiled. “Don’t forget to check for that rash too.”

            “Yeah,” Ron said flatly. “I will.” He walked towards the door into the corridor outside, turned around to see if Harry was looking, and dashed down the nearest aisle of books, and began searching for Hermione.

            Aisle after aisle he searched, but she was nowhere to be found. He ran a freckled hand through his hair in confusion. Nearly ready to turn around and head back to their table, he suddenly felt a pair of hands wrap around his face, and he felt the warm breath whispering in his ear.

            “How’s your rash?”

            He growled back, “It’s killing me. I’ve got to scratch it.”

            Ron spun around and swiftly pinned Hermione up against the bookshelf by her shoulders, and began kissing her fiercely. She reciprocated, swinging her arms around his neck and running her ink stained fingers through his hair. His own hands roamed freely into her robes, grabbing a hold of her waist and pulling her closer to him.

            Smack. Slobber. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

            Sigh. “Twenty two hours, forty minutes and eight seconds.”

            “Far too long in my opinion.” Slurp. Kiss.

            “Quite so, but I think we should hurry. Don’t you think Harry will wonder what happened to us?” Moan.

            “I think a more appropriate question would be,” Nuzzle. Lick. “Do I care?”

            “Ron,” Hermione said irritably, pushing him off her neck. “I thought we had agreed to not tell Harry yet.”

            Ron looked at her still focused on, his mouth still hanging open from kissing her. “You had to open your big mouth, didn’t you? Big prat!” he thought, as he sighed, giving her a sincere look. “Although I highly enjoy sneaking around like this–I mean, it is kinda mysterious and sexy, but it’s been over two months now. Don’t you think he should find out?”

            “NO!” she said in an highly audible whisper.

            “Why not?” Ron asked, becoming irritated himself as another thought crossed his mind. “Are you ashamed of me?”

            “Ron Weasley, don’t be ridiculous!” she nearly yelled now, pushing his hands away from her waist and holding them in her hands until Ron put his finger up to his lips as a reminder of where they were. “I would never be ashamed of you!” she whispered, taking his hands again. “I meant that at first, I thought it would have been okay to tell him, but now, I’m not so sure. Harry’s very fragile now, and I think that if he knew about us at this point he would draw further into himself than he already has.”

            “I suppose you’re right,” he huffed, though not quite meaning it. He thought Hermione was far too concerned for Harry than she should be, and for a moment he wondered if that meant something other than just friendship.

            “Come on,” she smiled, pulling away urgently. “We should get back.”

            “All right, just one more thing,” Ron said, still grasping her hand in his.

            “What’s that?”

            “This–“ and he pulled her back to kiss her again. He was softer this time, and for the moment, he could feel her practically melt in his arms.

            They stayed there in their intimate embrace a moment too long, however, as they were suddenly interrupted by a gasping choke of a cough, followed by an unusually deep laugh. The couple broke apart just enough to see Ron’s older brother, George staring wide-eyed and grinning at them.

            It was then that Ron murmured something that made Hermione gasp herself, slapping him on his arm with disgust.

            Smiling wickedly, George walked over to them slowly, and Ron knew by the look on his face, it would not be long before George would tell his twin, Fred and the entire house of his and Hermione’s relationship.

            “Well, well, well,” George said, clicking his tongue. “This is interesting. I must say though that I’m not surprised in the least.” He raised an eyebrow. “Does Harry know?”

            Hermione gave George a desperate look that Ron had never seen on her before. “Please George, we beg of you not to say anything about this to anyone–especially Harry. We don’t think that he’s ready to know about us yet.”

            George stifled a laugh. “I’ve got to admit, I don’t think I’m ready for this yet myself,” he kidded, clasping his hands together and batting his eyelashes. “Wonniekins in wuve . . . “

            ”We mean it George,” Ron cut him off , trying to ignore his last comment in front of

Hermione. They hadn’t said those words to each other yet. Despite the secret meetings and intimate moments they rarely shared in the past two months, they were still trying to take it slow. And George was just making it worse.

            “Don’t say a word–not even to Fred, or Hermione here will give you hex you into the next millennia. And you know she could do it too,” Ron threatened. Hermione nodded in agreement, her eyes lowered at George with a simple look that conveyed the same.

            “Okay, okay! Calm down,” George said, holding up his hands in protest. “I won’t say anything. I don’t understand it myself, but I’ll do it.”

            “Thanks,” Hermione sighed with relief. “We appreciate that.”

            “You owe me big time. The both of you.”

            “We know, we know. Now would you mind,” Ron nodded to Hermione, “I’m trying to snog my girl here.”

            “Righto!” George said, trotting off, still with a look of mischief on his face. Just after he walked around the corner, he popped his head back and said with a wink, “Oh yeah, way to go little brother!”

            “Will you get out of here!” Ron said exasperated, waving him away. He turned back to Hermione, who was giving him a quizzical look.

            “Your girl?”

            Ron gave her his most dashing smile and said softly, before kissing her again, “Quiet you, before I give you a rash of your own.”

 

            *          *          *

 

            “You’re joking? Really?” Fred sputtered out, through a stunned laugh that echoed through the empty locker room, as his brother told him what he had seen in the library after that afternoons Quidditch practice. “Well, can’t say I’m all that surprised.”

            “I suppose you’re going to give me that five Galleons you owe me now, right?” George said, beaming with delight as he stuck out his hand. “Hand it over, mate!”

            “Oh no,” Fred countered, shaking his head as he shut his locker. “I need more than just your word that it happened. Besides, the bet was that he was in love with her, and from what you told me, Ron said nothing of the sort,” he finished matter-of-factly.

            George’s grin faded only slightly as he put his Cleansweep Five away in his locker. “Honestly Fred, you know that he’s in love with her just as much as I do. Is it really necessary to go through these technicalities?”

            “Hey, if I’m going to cough up five galleons, I want my money’s worth,” Fred said.

            Only slightly exasperated, George asked, “Okay, fine, we have to prove it–with witnesses. So how do you suppose we go about accomplishing this? They’re trying to keep this a secret you know.”

             “Simple. We coerce them to expose their secret,” Fred said devilishly.

            “And how do you intend to do that?”

            Fred sighed, thinking out loud. “I’m not entirely sure yet. But I do know someone who probably has some inside information that could help us.”

            A wicked grin spread to George’s face as well. “Ginny?”

            “Precisely. Now follow me.”

            The twins caught their little sister, Ginny still sitting in the Quidditch Pitch bleachers, talking to Harry. George knew as well as Fred did, that Harry had barely left Ginny’s side since he visited them at The Burrow over summer holiday. They agreed that Harry and Ginny were probably on the same primrose path as Ron and Hermione, but unlike them, they were taking the time to stop and smell the roses, not to mention, not bothering to keep it a secret from anyone.

            Still chuckling as she flirted with the dark haired boy beside her, she regarded her brothers as they approached. “Good practice mates. You two are really at the top of your game this year, I can tell.”

            “Thanks Gin,” Fred said concealing a slightly sheepish grin that only George could tell when his brother received any compliment. “Say, I didn’t see Ron and Hermione with you during practice. Where are they?”

            Harry rolled his eyes as he shared a look with Ginny and said, “They’re in the common room, practicing charms for a quiz we have on Friday. They said that they wouldn’t be able to make it today.”

            Watching his twin bite down on his lip in a weak attempt to hide his own laughter, George went on. “Well, it’s better that they aren’t around anyway,” he said, glancing at Harry. “Is there anyway we can speak to you alone, Gin?”

            “What is it?” Ginny asked, showing mild concern. “Is there something wrong with Ron?”

            “Kind of, but really it’s nothing we can talk about in front of Harry. A bit of a family matter if you know what I mean,” George said carefully, trying not to offend his teammate. “Sorry mate.”

            Capturing another knowing look from Ginny, Harry turned back to Fred and George with a rather large smirk and said, “You found out about them, right?”

            “What?” the twins said in unison.

            “You found out about Ron and Hermione, didn’t you?” Ginny laughed. “We already know.”

            George stood there aghast. “You do? But how?”

            “How could you not?” Harry looked at them as if they were insane. “Ever since before term started, they haven’t been able to keep their eyes off each other. Even this morning in the library, they were playing footsies underneath the table.”

            Suppressing a quiet laugh to himself, George listened as Harry continued. “Haven’t you noticed that they are always finding ways to be alone together? I’m happy for them, but honestly, I don’t understand why on earth they need to keep it a bloody secret! It’s not like they’re doing it all that well, anyway.”

            “Well, that is why we have come to you, Gin. We thought you would know,” Fred chimed in, now unable to control his amusement for Harry’s disdain.

            Harry gave Ginny a reproachful look. “You know?” he asked with a insufficient scowl.

            “Of course,” Ginny said, looking barely guilty. “I’m her best girlfriend. She tells me practically everything. I really wanted to tell you Harry, but I promised her. I didn’t want to betray that trust.”

            “I know, but why couldn’t she have told me?” Harry said, looking hurt. “I’m her best friend too.”

            George stood there next to his brother, feeling uncomfortable as he soon realized that they were suddenly in the middle of a long overdue lovers’ quarrel. He felt a nudge in the arm from his brother and looked over, as Fred signaled with his eyes that perhaps they should leave. But George couldn’t help but watch this fascinating exchange between his baby sister and the would-be savior of the wizarding world. George inwardly thought the odds were five to one in Ginny’s favor.

            Ginny put her hand on Harry’s shoulder to comfort him. “You are, Harry. But Hermione thinks of you like a brother, and she could never confide such a thing to you. Especially when it comes to your best friend. Besides, I think deep down she was afraid that you might be jealous of their relationship.”

            “Ten points to Weasley,” George thought.

            “Jealous?” Harry guffawed. “Honestly Ginny, why would I be jealous of their relationship?”

            “Because you don’t have one,” Ginny murmured, looking away from him.

            “Oh.”

            Characteristic of most of the Weasley children, George watched with interest as his sister’s ears became a severe shade of pink.

            Harry paused a moment. “Well, I’m working on that,” he said quietly, taking her hand as he looked into her eyes, ignoring the fact that her brothers were standing mere meters away from him.

            “But Potter once again catches the Golden Snitch, and thus ending the match,” George smiled to himself inwardly.

            Growing impatient and mildly astonished that Potter had behaved in such a way right in front of them, Fred coughed loudly, finally interrupting their would-be intimate moment. “Careful, Potter, that’s our little sister.”

            Coming out of his daze, Harry turned back to them and laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that threat.”

            “Okay, back to business then,” Fred began again. “We need to convince these two dolts to come out of the broomcupboard, and admit they love each other,” he said.

            Ginny looked at them with a bemused sort of smile. “Why? Did you make a bet?”

            Fred smiled sheepishly at her. “Well, yes . . . but that’s beside the point. We need a plan Ginny. And it seems that the only way we are going to convince them is by threatening their relationship–“ And with that another wicked grin spread across his face.

            A wicked grin that rivaled Fred’s own also came over Ginny’s face. “Of course!” she shouted, jumping from her seat. “They are both seemingly unattached. All we have to do is give them the opportunity of a potential love interest to one of them, and they will crack.”

            “And who do you suppose is going to do that?” Harry asked confusedly.

            Sharing glances with both is brother and sister, George knew exactly who they had in mind.