O.W.L. Post

Hermione bounded down the stairs of Grimmauld Place as quickly as she could without literally waking the dead. Just five minutes ago, in the early morning hour, she had opened her window - as quietly as possibly so she wouldn't disturb Ginny - to admit a dutiful screech owl, Ministry issued. Attached to his leg was the letter she had been waiting for all summer.

The crisp parchment was held tightly in her hand now, dented where her fingers had clutched it vice-like while she read its contents. She glanced down joyfully at it once more as she hurried across the landing to a familiar door.

"Ron!" she called, knocking urgently. "Ron, it's me. Have you received them yet? An owl just arrived with mine. With my O.W.L.s." She laughed at the nonsensical thought of an owl bringing her O.W.L.s, knowing it was only funny because of how delirious she was in excitement.

She nearly jumped when Ron opened the door to admit her. Nonetheless, she carried on her speech as she followed him into the room and took a seat on Harry's as-of-yet unoccupied bed, not noticing that Ron did not sit on his bed to face her as he usually did.

"Did you get yours, then? I wonder if Harry has his yet? I'm sure the owls can get to Surrey in no time, but wouldn't it be thrilling if we were the first two students to receive word, seeing as we're so close to the Ministry? Oh, I'm so pleased! I got O's on every one, even Astronomy and Arithmancy, which I was sure I failed because of my ehwaz error. Even Umbridge couldn't keep me from an O.W.L. with her meddling. I was so afraid I hadn't picked up all the pertinent information with her infuriating distractions for us and the professors, not that I blame them; they all tried very hard to keep things normal. How many did you get? Do you think everyone in the DA passed in Defense Against the Dark Arts? I mean the fifth years, obviously. My letter said I scored the most O's since 1861. That made me suspect it was Dumbledore, because he's nearly 150 years old, now. I'll have to check in the library when we return to Hogwarts, or maybe someone in the Order would know. Ron?"

Hermione cut off when she realized at last that Ron was standing near the thick-curtained window, pointedly facing away from her. He was slowly crumpling a letter into a ball in his fist, his head hanging. He hadn't said a word to her yet.

"Ron? Is everything all right?"

Ron stood silent for a long moment while Hermione stared at his back, her heart rate increasing. He very rarely confronted anything with silence. It was always a terrible sign if he was beyond the point of speech, even angry speech.

Finally, when Hermione was just about to speak to him again, he hastily turned around and strode across the room, tossing his ball of paper into Hermione's lap as he passed.

Before shutting the heavy door, Ron muttered, "Read it yourself. Hope you have a good laugh."

And then he was gone, and Hermione was left alone, shocked and worried, sitting on the bed, staring at the object of his anger.

She slowly unfolded the sad blossom of paper and skimmed her way down to the relevant contents.

Care of Magical Creatures - O

Defense Against the Dark Arts - O

Charms - E

Transfiguration - E

Herbology - A

Potions - A

Astronomy - P

History of Magic - P

Divination - D

Although Hermione didn't find his scores bad, she knew why Ron was so upset; the marks weren't high enough for him to get into the N.E.W.T. level classes he would need to qualify for Auror training after Hogwarts. The Auror program looked for top marks, and Ron's O.W.L.s simply weren't at that level. It wasn't impossible for him to get in now, but Hermione knew Ron well enough to realize that he could be dreadfully insecure, and his own attitude was what typically held him down, not the lack of necessary skills.

Hermione sighed and pressed her hands across the parchment on her lap to iron out the wrinkles. Then she carefully placed in on his bureau, tucked her own letter into her pocket, and headed down for breakfast.

Hermione entered the kitchen and took her normal seat at the table next to a groggy Ginny. Her friend started telling her about how they would have to clean the Pixies out of the attic, but Hermione's attention was focused on Ron; he was sitting at the corner of the table, not in his usual place across from her, and was huddled over his porridge in a very uninviting fashion. Ginny noticed his odd behavior as well, as she was shooting him odd looks, but the youngest Weasley remained silent. Apparently even without knowing the worrisome cause for it, Ginny concluded the same thing as Hermione did from his behavior: Best to leave him alone at the moment.

Mrs. Weasley, however, was clearly too distracted with her cooking to pick up on her son's mood, because just as Hermione had tucked in to her breakfast the matron said, "Ginny mentioned post coming for you this morning, Hermione. It wasn't your O.W.L. scores, was it? This is right about the time they usually arrive."

Hermione almost choked on her porridge. Normally, she would have jumped at the chance to discuss her O.W.L.s, but if she told Mrs. Weasley, Ron would be forced to discuss his too, and Hermione didn't think he wanted to do that. A glance at him confirmed this; Ron was still huddled over his meal, but he was completely frozen in obvious anxiety about her response.

Hermione raced to think up an answer. "Erm, no, it was just a letter from Viktor Krum...." She trailed off when she realized that Viktor, while a feasible excuse, wasn't the best choice, for Ron's sake.

Predictably, Ron unfroze in a second and leapt from the table to storm out of the room. Hermione was mortified at the devastation evident on his face.

"Don't worry, dear," said Mrs. Weasley while kindly patting Hermione's shoulder. "He can be a bit overprotective."

Ginny sniggered at her side. "He's not overprotective, he's bloody jealous."

"Ginevra, watch that language!"

"Bloody."

"I'm warning you, young lady!"

Hermione tuned out the bickering between temperamental mother and defiant teenage daughter. She had never seen Ron so distraught, and now her efforts to help him had instead made things worse. Sighing, she dug into her breakfast, as she knew there wasn't anything she could do but wait for his anger and disappointment to become less raw.

The next two days were torture for Hermione and clearly for Ron too. He spent most of his time in his room, only coming out when his mum ordered them all to clean out some infested room or eat a meal. Hermione tried to apologize while they eradicated the Pixies in the attic the next afternoon, but that only resulted in Ron avoiding her more; he snapped at her to spare him the pity and then frowned dejectedly for the rest of the cleaning job. After that, he shut himself in his room.

Hermione wasn't the only one to notice, of course.

The absence of Ron at dinner that night was very apparent. Mr. Weasley had been called into work for some crisis with someone Transfiguring Muggle statues to pose in a lewd manner, and no Order members had shown up to dine with them. Hermione sat across from Mrs. Weasley and next to Ginny, awaiting the inevitable questions.

"Where is that boy?" asked Mrs. Weasley after calling him for the third time. "It's not like him to be late for a meal."

"I don't think he's coming, Mum," said Ginny wearily. "He's locked himself in his room again to brood."

Hermione concentrated on her plate, as if peas were as captivating as ancient runes.

"Why would he be brooding, dear?"

"I told you, he's mad about Hermione writing to Viktor Krum."

Mrs. Weasley tsked. "He can't possibly still be upset about that."

"He can and he is, right Hermione?"

Hermione raised her eyes to meet Ginny's. "Oh, I don't -"

"I saw you trying to apologize to him today," the redhead cut in with a smirk.

Now that Hermione had made up the excuse, she knew she had to go along with Ginny's assumption, no matter how silly of an idea it was to apologize to Ron for writing an innocent letter to Viktor. "Well, I tried, but I guess he's not ready to hear it yet."

"My brother is such a git."

"Ginevra!"

"He can stay mad for days over the most ridiculous things. I don't know how you stay friends with him!" Ginny glared at her mother as if daring her to disagree. "You know I'm right, Mum."

Mrs. Weasley let out a long sigh and threw up her hands in defeat. "Weasley men have stubborn streaks a mile wide."

"Ha!" said Ginny in triumph.

"Weasly women, on the other hand, are very meek," Mrs. Weasley said sarcastically. She turned to Hermione and continued. "I know you didn't do anything wrong, dear, but you were on the right track by apologizing. It can certainly be effective at times, although it's really just part of a more direct approach. I should have let you in on it years ago. Merlin knows I've used the tactic a thousand times with Arthur. That man and his abominable collection...." She paused, shaking her head and frowning.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Mum!"

"What? Oh, right, the direct approach."

Dinner forgotten, Hermione leaned forward in interest. She had never received many inside tips about dealing with Ron from Mrs. Weasley before, and she was always an eager student in any subject.

Mrs. Weasley and Ginny also leaned forward, the former looking as though she was about to divulge the meaning of life and the latter looking thoroughly amused.

"Apologizing can work, but only if you catch him off guard. If he expects it, he'll only become more pigheaded and petulant. The real trick is to do anything that completely shocks him, whether it's an apology or a feigned bout of hellebore poisoning. By the time you're done, he'll be the one apologizing to you. And once you put that into practice a few dozen times, he'll be much more amenable and less prone to bouts of stubbornness; Weasley men simply don't deal with shock well and would prefer to avoid it."

Hermione processed all of what Mrs. Weasley said. Some of it seemed logical and some didn't. Ron certainly had a knack for digging his heels in deeper the harder she pushed, and surprises never went over well with him. They had elicited apologies, or at least Ron's version of apologies, on several occasions - a Cave Troll, Buckbeak's trial, and Harry's experience with the Horntail came to mind. But she couldn't imagine Mr. Weasley ever being resistant to his wife or Ron losing his obstinacy.

Mrs. Weasley must have sensed her doubt. "I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. Arthur used to be almost as mulish as Ron."

Hermione smiled at her and continued to ponder.

"Did you really pretend to have hellebore poisoning, Mum?" Ginny inquired with a chuckle.

"Oh, yes. Back when we were just married and the house was much smaller, your father kept all of his Muggle gadgets in the spare room. I put up with it until I became pregnant with Bill. I told him he needed to move his contraptions out to the shed so we could turn the room into a nursery, but he refused. Do you know what your father said?"

"What?" prompted Ginny.

"He said there was plenty of room in the pantry for a crib."

Both girls gasped in indignation.

"Well, I wasn't having any of that! The next day I used a perfectly safe Glamour Charm to put green spots all over my body and told Arthur I'd accidentally used hellebore as mouthwash. He took me to St. Mungo's straightaway, where the Healers said I was fine, of course. The point is that by the following morning, I had a nursery, and the Muggle things have been in the shed ever since."

"And he never found out?" asked Hermione in awe.

"No. I love Arthur, bless his heart, but he's not much inclined to uncover plots. I even used that same Charm again eight years later to coax him into building the twins' room."

"Don't you feel bad for lying?" said Ginny.

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "Not when he's lying to me about sewing himself up and enchanting cars to fly." Her expression softened. "I wouldn't ever do anything to hurt your father, and Merlin knows I put up with his fascination with Muggles, but every wife has a trick or two to keep her husband on his toes."

Conversation went back to funny stories from the Weasleys' marriage, but Hermione was still mulling over the situation with Ron and what Mrs. Weasley had said. While Hermione didn't think she could ever mold Ron as suggested, it was nice to have that information tucked away. She was more curious as to whether or not she could get through to him using that element of shock. He wasn't exactly stubborn at the moment, more sullen, but it could work. All she wanted was an opportunity to make him listen to reason, to explain that his O.W.L. scores weren't the end of his dreams. But as for what type of shock to use, she was at a loss. Apologizing was out, and she certainly wasn't going to fake illness, but there didn't seem to be many other routes. He would laugh if she told him she was joining the circus or starting a Snorkack Appreciation Society with Luna Lovegood. What else was there?

A thought struck Hermione so suddenly she dropped her fork. It clattered against her plate and she rushed to pick it up and resume eating so neither Ginny nor Mrs. Weasley would notice her fierce blush. The idea was ludicrous, but once it lodged itself in her mind, no others would come. It was frightening and terrible and exhilarating all at once, but something told her that it would indeed shock Ron enough to listen to her, if she didn't die of humiliation before he had the chance.

"Hermione?"

She lifted her head quickly to see Mrs. Weasley staring at her.

"I asked if you were finished with your dinner."

Hermione blushed even harder and stumbled over her words. "Oh, er, yes, I suppose so." She stood and started to grab her plate so as to take it to the sink, but the older woman picked it up and took it for her.

"Don't worry about the dishes, I can do them. You girls can go on upstairs, but let me give you a plate of food to take Ron."

"I-"

"Now would be the perfect time to talk to him. They're easier targets if they're hungry and you're bearing food. I've always said that Weasley men are made up entirely of stomach!"

Several minutes later, Hermione found herself on the second floor landing, walking slowly toward Ron's room and carrying a plate heaping with food. She considered just placing the food outside the door and running, but Ginny was watching her from the stairs. A glance over her shoulder showed the redhead grinning and nodding her head encouragingly. Before Hermione thought better of it, she shifted the plate to one hand, took a deep breath, and knocked.

Nothing happened.

Hermione opened her eyes and glanced at Ginny, who was now indicating animatedly that she should just open the door and go in. There was really no choice, so she quietly turned the knob and opened the door. She caught sight of Ginny giving her a thumbs-up before she entered and shut the door behind her.

Ron was sitting at the dusty desk in the corner, facing away from her, although he didn't seem to be working on anything. He was bent low with his head resting on his hands.

"I'm busy. Go away."

Hermione suddenly realized that she would have to speak to him to follow through with her plan, but when she opened her mouth no sound came out. The room felt too small, and the plate felt heavy in her hands. She set it down on the nearest surface, the armoire on Harry's side of the room, and immediately put her hand over her heart in an effort to slow the frantic thrumming. Then she squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds and walked the few short steps closer to Ron's desk until she stood just behind his shoulder.

"I said I'm busy, Mum."

Hermione curled her hands into fists to gather courage and said, "R-Ron, it's me -"

He spun in his chair to face her and she almost stepped backward. He looked venomous. "I told you already, I don't want your pity."

As he started to turn back around in his chair to effectively cut himself off from her, Hermione knew it was her chance, and she reached out and grabbed each side of his face to stop his movements. She registered disconnectedly that he looked shocked just before her lips collided hard with his.

Hermione had absolutely no idea what she was doing; it was her first kiss. All she knew about the subject came from seeing it in films or between exhibitionist couples in public. It looked something like moving the lips against that other person's, so that's what she did. She couldn't even tell if Ron was reciprocating or not, and she didn't wait to find out if he would push her away or grab onto her like she was grabbing onto him. A deep inhaling of breath accompanied her break from the kiss, and she stood and let her brain catch up with her body.

It felt like days passed as she stood there sharing a long stare with Ron, who was gradually turning vibrant red.

Finally, he worked his lips open and closed a few times, as if it was a delayed response to the kiss, and made a sound like a creaking floorboard. "I... you... what was that?"

If Hermione wasn't so terrified, she might have laughed. "A kiss," she said mechanically.

Ron blinked, blatantly processing the information. "But... why?"

Words seemed to come to Hermione's lips of their own accord, and she had a vague notion that they might be part of a speech she had mentally prepared down in the kitchen, but she couldn't be sure. "I thought a bit of kissing might cheer you up." Her voice sounded much calmer than she felt.

Ron just stared at her, dumbfounded.

His stunned expression and fuchsia ears boosted Hermione's resolve somehow, and she offered him a small smile as she explained herself further. "Because you are the most sensitive wart I have ever had the fortune to meet."

The reminder of their conversation from seven months prior sparked Ron back to life. He averted his gaze to the floor and rubbed his palms against the knees of his trousers. "Sorry for being stupid. I shouldn't take it out on you."

The predicted apology had come much sooner than Hermione had anticipated, but she was thankful for it, as it allowed her to segue into what she really wanted to say. To facilitate eye contact, she knelt down in front of him, rested her hand over his on his knee, and peered up into his face.

"Ron, you are not stupid, and despite your strange behavior, you have nothing to be sorry for." She paused a moment to let the words sink in. Ron hadn't moved his eyes from the floor, but he was definitely listening. "I understand what you're upset about; this does put a kink in your plans. But it's not the end of the world. There are ways to overcome it."

"This coming from a girl with ten O's." He sighed. "You just don't get it, Hermione. Being an Auror was the only job I might have been decent at. What am I supposed to do now? Work for my dad and go barmy over Muggle rubbish and be poor for the rest of my life?"

"Ron, stop it!" She hated to be harsh, but it was the only was to convey her meaning. "Your dad works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department because that's what he truly enjoys. Of course you're not supposed to work there if you wouldn't love it."

"The only thing I'd love is being an Auror, and we both know that won't happen now."

Hermione shook her head, frustrated at his lack of confidence. "You're still capable of becoming an Auror." She ignored his grunt of protest and continued. "You'll just have to work harder and procrastinate less."

He eyed her askance and shrugged, which was a marked improvement in his attitude. "And then what, Hermione? Then what do I do when I fail my N.E.W.T.s too? Work on the Knight Bus? Apply at the Hogshead?"

"No, you work for the Chudley Cannons. They're terrible enough to accept you."

She waited for a reaction from him, and sure enough, he yanked his hand from beneath hers so he could cross his arms and scowl. Before he could make a biting comment, Hermione smiled up at him to let him know she wasn't serious.

He scowled harder at first but then broke into a half-smile.

"Ron, if you're willing to try, I'll help you. We can study harder, which will be easier since we're not taking as many classes. And I promise that I won't be as hard on you as I was last year."

"Does that mean no talking homework planners?"

Hermione grinned at his remark and rolled her eyes. "Yes, no talking homework planners. I'll get you something much better for Christmas, I swear."

The release of tension on Ron's part was palpable. He uncrossed his arms, and looking as though he was at a loss for what to do with them, since Hermione was still touching his knee, he settled for placing them awkwardly on his thighs.

A minute of silence passed. Hermione could tell he was working up the nerve to say something, as he kept fidgeting with the material on his trousers and twisting his mouth, so she waited patiently. At last, he made a jerky movement and laid his hand over hers.

"So, er, do you reckon someone who spends two days moping over his future might have the emotional range of more than a teaspoon?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to look at the floor and blush. Her plan to kiss him hadn't extended further than the actual act. "Well, I...." She tried to think of a way to tell him directly how much she cared for him but failed. "I suppose he might have the emotional range of a tablespoon."

"Erm, what about really clever witches? Do they like tablespoons?"

Hermione could feel his hand shaking in nervousness and knew hers must be as well. She lifted her head and found him staring at her hopefully from behind too-long fringe. "Y-Yes, they like tablespoons very much. Tablespoons are their favorite utensils."

"Oh."

Then he leaned down the remaining distance and kissed her. He squeezed the back of her hand and she squeezed his knee and she could very clearly feel the trembling now. She knew he hadn't responded to the earlier kiss, because this one felt completely different. In fact, this time she wasn't even sure if she was responding to him.

When Ron pulled back, she felt winded. She sat back on her heels and laid her cheek upon their stacked hands to catch her breath. Ron's free hand sunk hesitantly into her hair and she closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling.

"That's good," he said belatedly, "because tablespoons are really fond of clever witches too."

Sometime afterwards, Hermione briefly left the room, only to show up a short time later with her schoolbooks for a review session. Whenever he said he wanted a break, Hermione would let him kiss her, and as the breaks became more frequent over the course of the evening, the kisses became less timid.

Hermione gathered her books at the end of the night and headed up to her own room to get ready for bed. Ron stopped her at the door with a hand on her shoulder and said, "Hey, could we could study again tomorrow?"

Hermione smiled. "Everyday, Ron."