Miracle Worker

I am a miracle worker. Yes, you read right, my name is Ronald Michael Weasley and I am a miracle worker. I wave my name in your face, because you did not make Hermione Granger late for work. But I did! So HA! HA! HA! HA! Okay, I am now done gloating.

HA!

Apparently I lied. Breathe Ron, breath, okay, laughter under control. I will now regale you with my grievous, painful, saga...

It was last night some time, not really sure what time, but I'm guessing about nine because Hermione was getting ready to leave, fully determined she would not freeze her ass off walking to the nearest Apparition point.

In short I did not want Hermione to leave. But this was not just because we had just had a wonderful dinner from wonderfully handy take-out cartons followed by wonderful sex, and it was a wonderful night. Or it was all very wonderful until Hermione's need for a full ten hours of sleep overwhelmed her.

The too heavy coat went on over the five layers of variously colored turtlenecks, vests, and scarves knitted by my mother. She slid on a pair of clunky snow boots that were unnecessary when there was, as of yet, no snow. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" she chirped, far more interested in her mittens than in kissing me good-bye.

Amazing me tugged her down on the sofa. "You can't leave. It's cold outside."

"Hence the clothes." She tried to gesture, but her puffy coat restrained her movement, it also kept her from stopping me tossing her stocking hat at a random destination.

Struggling she tried to scramble away. "No leave. Too cold."

"Ron! I have to go to work!" she whined. Hermione is very good a whining, especially where practical things are involved. Practical things like- work, getting enough sleep, eating green vegetables, and wearing condoms.

This time I got the coat off her, but it was hard, I swear she tried a Paste Charm. "Yes, you have to work. Tomorrow."

"Ron! Give that back!"

I am a very stubborn person. Some people even go so far as to call me hard headed. "Nope, I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

"You're right I'm not."

Somehow she managed to get up and grab her stuff and I was forced into drastic action. I stood guard before the door in face of what could potentially be Hermione Rage. Hermione Rage is scary. I tremble at the thought. "You are not leaving, you'll catch hypothermia, or pneumonia, or some other horrible sick thing and then you'll be stuffy nosed and hard to kiss."

Crossing her arms Hermione did her best impression of a hag. "Ron, I will not catch the death."

"But you could, and then I would never get to do this."

The best way to make Hermione Granger late for work is to purpose to her while she is angry with you and wearing far too many pieces of winter garb.

Miracle worker, yep, that's me.