A Vague Plan

Part Two: Wherein the characters´ motives and back-stories have been properly established, and the plot can finally begin

(Or: A morsel of sweetness before the plan begins full force)

"So..." Harry said, his practice Quidditch robes billowing out behind him as he walked swiftly into the changing rooms.

"What?" Ron asked, rather irritably. He had allowed his sister and newly named Chaser, Ginny, to score on him five times during practice, and so didn´t feel particularly like making small talk.

"So it´s been a week, when were you planning on implementing this cunning plan of yours?"

Ron unclasped his tattered wrist guards and shoved them into his bag. He then flexed his hands a few times and massaged his sore knuckles.

"Implementing it? The first stage is already in process," he answered as he unbuttoned his heavy robe and pulled it off in a rush. Though it was mid-October and very late at night, the weather was unbearably hot, and his robe clung uncomfortably to his body. He removed it to reveal a dark orange Chudley Cannons t-shirt he´d received from his brother, Bill, for his fifteenth birthday. It was a wizard´s shirt, and the decoration on it was a constant replay of the moment in 1892 when the Cannons´ Seeker, Patrick Picadilly, leapt off his broom to catch the Snitch and win the Cannons´ their 21^st and final League Championship.

The problem was, that while the t-shirt was too big when it was first given to him, over the years as Ron grew, it seemed to become smaller and more threadbare. Now, the fabric was pulled taut across his chest and shoulders and there was a rip where it hugged his waist, a memento from a wrestling match with Fred the year before. But it was his favorite, and he refused to throw it away. Every time he put it on, the model Patrick Picadilly gave him an annoyed glare, because the farther the shirt was stretched, the farther he had to jump from his broom in order to keep catching the Snitch.

"I haven´t noticed anything out of the ordinary," Harry countered while unlacing one boot, "In fact, it seems to me, lately, that you´ve been around Hermione even less than usual."

Ron, who was fiddling with his left shin guard, paused a moment to glance up at Harry. His blue eyes were shining and his mouth was twisted into a devious smile.

"Exactly. You´re perfectly right, Harry."

"You´re telling me that the first part of this plan of yours is to NOT talk to her? Good thinking. Smashing, really, wish I´d thought of it. You know, it´s a wonder she hasn´t fallen head over heels for Malfoy by now, what with the spectacular job he´s done of avoiding any more contact with her than is necessary over these last six years." The sarcasm was glaringly obvious as it dripped off of Harry´s tongue.

"What time is it?" Ron asked, changing the subject briefly.

"Must be at least half past eleven," Harry answered.

Ron groaned and ran a hand through his wet and disheveled red hair. "Thanks, Captain. Another all night practice."

"Hey! Is it my fault the Slytherins refuse to give up the pitch on time, causing our practices to run grossly over schedule?"

"Suppose not," Ron conceded, "Ah well. At least there won´t be anyone in the halls, so I don´t have to worry about wearing my robe. It´s bloody hot!"

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed at the perspiration that was stinging his eyes.

"I´ve noticed, thanks. Now you´ve moved off topic."

"What were we talking about again?"

"You avoiding Hermione," Harry supplied.

"First of all, I´m not avoiding her," Ron explained, "Both because I don´t think I could do it for very long, and because that would be quite obvious. What I am doing, however, is simply refraining from giving her all the extra attention I usually do. You know, walking her to the Astronomy Tower for class, bothering her during Transfiguration, stealing her rolls at dinner, that sort of thing."

"And how is this a useful strategy?" Harry asked as he and Ron walked out of the changing room and into the silent hallway. Only the students returning from Quidditch practice were allowed out of their houses that late.

Ron grinned easily. "Simple, really. Over the last three years, I´ve been rather..."

"Obsessed?" Harry suggested helpfully.

"Taken with her," Ron corrected, choosing to ignore his friend for the moment, "And because of that, I´ve made the time to be around her much more than necessary. She´s gotten so used to me consistently being there, that she´s taken it for granted that I always will be. What I am doing is forcing her to realize that my presence is important in her life."

Harry´s eyebrows furrowed, "But I thought your plan was about getting her to understand the two of you being together wouldn´t hurt me?"

Ron rolled his eyes playfully, "Yes, Harry, the sun rises and sets everyday only because of..."

"That´s what you said," Harry protested.

"I know, I know. But as I was re-evaluating the plan some time last week, I figured out that before I could go about convincing her that the logistics of a relationship would work, I had to first convince her that she wanted a relationship."

"And asking her out wouldn´t achieve the same results?"

Ron sighed and looked properly exasperated. "What, just throw that out there without any sort of warning to her first? `Hey Hermione, have you done the Herbology homework and would you perhaps consider a romantic relationship with me?´ That would get the desired effect...if the effect I desired was causing an aneurysm in her logical brain."

"And by ignoring her you´re...giving her warning?"

"I´m not ignoring her, and this is only the first st...honestly, have you even been paying attention?"

Harry sniggered. "You sounded exactly like Hermione then."

"Look, if I ask her now, she´ll say no because she has become so accustomed to repressing any feelings she has for me. You see how well she´s done with it so far. I mean, three months with Justin Finch-Fletchley?" Ron complained.

"Oh no, not this again," Harry groaned, "I thought you´d gotten over that after they broke up."

"I am over it," Ron argued, "And he seems like a nice sort of bloke. But really, three months? Was she mad?"

"Please, no more. Anyway, I´ve never seemed to have any trouble with straight-forwardly asking girls out."

Ron shot him a sidelong glance and clutched his heart in mock surprise. "Gryffindor´s star Seeker and the bloody Boy Who Lived doesn´t have trouble getting a date? I´m absolutely floored, I assure you. You do realize the first years have started a We Love Harry Potter fan club, right?" He grinned when his friend´s face flushed, then continued, "It´s a bit harder for us regular types, I´m afraid."

"Ok, but you can´t forget that you´re Gryffindor´s star Keeper, and..." he looked slightly embarrassed, "The Boy Who Lived´s best friend."

Ron nodded in agreement, "And I have successfully asked girls out. But not Hermione, not the girl I really care about," he paused a moment and gave Harry an appraising look, "Come to think of it, you don´t have too much experience in that area either, do you?"

Harry made a sharp, strangled sound as they made their way up to Gryffindor Tower.

"I don´t know what you´re talking about."

"Don´t you?" Ron questioned before glancing up at the Fat Lady who was blocking entrance into their common room, "Brown-speckled newt."

He was taken aback momentarily when he his eyes reached her face. The look she was giving him was almost...lascivious.

"What?" He asked defensively.

"Just got back from Quidditch practice, did you?" Was her sly reply as the portrait swung open.

Ron turned toward Harry, who simply shrugged, as confused by the Fat Lady as he was.

They chose not to respond to her, and instead climbed into the common room. When they walked in, Ron tried to pick up their conversation.

"No idea what I´m talking about, huh? Maybe I should ask..."

"Ron!"

His eyes darted immediately across the room until they came upon Hermione, her mouth wide open and her cheeks very red.

Again, Ron looked to Harry for a clue as to what was going on, with the same clueless shrug as a result.

"What? What´s wrong?"

It seemed Ron failed to notice, much to his credit, that his cheeks were flushed charmingly from the exertion of Quidditch practice, his wild red hair was wet and tousled elegantly about his head, and his favorite Chudley Cannons t-shirt clung to his chest in such a way that it perfectly outlined his lean and toned muscles, all of which combined for a rather pleasing picture.

The females lounging around the common room certainly did not fail to notice this, however. When the fifth year Chaser, Kylie Grundenberg, emitted something that sounded distinctly like a catcall, Hermione flew across the room until she was standing in front of him.

"Ron! What are you...you look positively indecent!" She exclaimed.

"I don´t know, Herm," Parvati Patil sniggered from a corner of the room, "He looks more than decent from where I´m sitting."

At that, she and Lavender burst into giggles.

Hermione spun around abruptly, "Mind your own business, Parvati."

"Oh, I see. So Ron´s current, delicious state of undress is only your business, then?" Parvati retorted.

Hermione´s face turned a funny sort of tomato color when she turned again to focus on Ron, who had his head lowered in order to conceal his amused grin.

"Ron," Hermione said, with a great deal more composure than he probably would have had if the situations were reversed, "What do you think you´re doing strolling in here like that? There are first years present! You can´t just walk around looking..." she gestured abstractly at his body.

Ron raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

"Looking the way you do..." she hissed lowly, "At least put on your robe, Ron."

There was a bark of laughter from Harry and both Ron and Hermione turned to look at him sharply.

"So sorry," he gasped, "I´ll be in my room."

With that, he made his way up the stairs to the boys´ dorms.

Ron switched his gaze back to the girl in front of him.

"Hermione, I swear, it was not my intention to scandalize eleven-year-old girls, or whatever you´re accusing me of. I just finished a four hour long Quidditch practice, and didn´t feel like putting on my stuffy robe. That was all. I´m going up to the dorm now, you won´t have to see me again," Ron said calmly, holding Hermione´s eyes captive with his own.

He turned and made his way for the stairs, but as he was about to go up, she called to him and walked swiftly to where he was standing at the foot of the stairs. He cocked his head and eyed her with a curious expression.

Hermione sighed softly and placed her hand on his forearm. Ron shut his eyes briefly to gain control over his body, as it shocked from the sensation of her hand on his bare skin. He could recite from memory the very few times when Hermione had touched him anywhere skin to skin, because it happened to infrequently. They so often wore their insufferable, suffocating robes, which covered everything from wrists to knees.

"Oh, Ron," she whispered finally, looking truly repentant, "I´m sorry I yelled at you. It was silly of me to think you´d purposely try to do something like that."

He smiled gently down at her, and their gazes once again locked. Those eyes. So beautiful. He couldn´t stop his hand from reaching up and brushing a stray lock of dark curly hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

He let his hand linger on her cheek, and his features softened even further when he felt her body sway almost imperceptibly into his touch.

"Good night, Hermione," he said, before ascending up the stairs.