A Vague Plan

Part Three: Wherein the plan is more solidly outlined, and the rising action begins.

"Oh Ron, you dashingly handsome Keeper, you," Seamus cried out to the red head in question as he entered the seventh year dorm, his expression the slightest bit dazed.

Ron raised a wry eyebrow while he watched his friend's antics.

Seamus wasn't nearly done. He fell backwards onto his bed and gave Ron his best 'come hither' look.

"Ravish and generally have your way with me! You can take off those Quidditch pants, but leave the t-shirt. The Cannons' logo really brings out the orange in your hair." He threw his body spread eagle on the bed and shut his eyes. "I'm at your mercy."

By that time, Dean had already almost tossed his long body off his bed and onto the ground with the way he was convulsing with laughter. Harry's shoulders were shaking uncontrollably, and his arms were wrapped around his stomach. Even Neville looked properly amused by Seamus' display.

Ron took it all in stride.

"Harry's telling stories again, I see. Honestly, he's worse than Parvati when it comes to spreading gossip," he responded dryly.

"It's not gossip when it's completely true," Harry defended himself, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes briefly. He turned his attention to his roommates. "You should have seen the way they were ogling him. Looked like they wanted to eat him alive, they did. Bloody priceless. And Hermione, bless her, was the worst of all. I thought her mouth was going to start collecting flies, the way it was hanging open for so long."

"So Hermione is interested in Ron?" Seamus queried, as a slow and characteristically devilish smile began to slide over his face, "I knew it! Didn't I tell you, Dean? And you had the gall to doubt me. Me! Seamus-bloody-Finnigan, Knower of All That Needs Knowing."

Dean easily ignored his best friend and focused on Ron instead, "What happened after Harry came bounding in here, then? Hermione push you up against a wall and snog you senseless?"

His friends each sniggered when heat spread up Ron's neck to cover his face. It wasn't embarrassment from Dean's ribbing that caused it, but rather the alarmingly vivid pictures the words instantly conjured to his mind.

"She did nothing of the sort," Ron answered quickly in an attempt to rid his brain of those distracting mental images.

"Ahh, but she did do something, didn't she?" Seamus prodded, "I saw that look on your face as you walked in, all moony-eyed and whatnot."

Bloody perceptive git. "You've gone 'round the bend, Finnigan."

"Oh please. You don't think I've been subjected to that dreamy expression of yours for the last two years? 'Hermione talked to me 14 times today.' 'Hermione laughed at one of my block-headed jokes today.' 'Hermione existed today.' You really have been quite effeminate about this whole thing. What did she do now, Weasley? She say your name, and the way she rolled the 'r' just set your heart aflutter?"

Ron grinned ruefully. He couldn't deny his occasional lapses into sentimentality when it came to her. However, the bashful grin slowly became a sly one when his thoughts turned to the common room.

"Her reaction was quite spectacular though, wasn't it?" He questioned, dropping his Quidditch bag on the floor and moving across the room to his bed.

Sitting down on his disheveled comforter, he simultaneously toed off his worn boots, inherited from Charlie and one and a half sizes too big, and peeled his Cannons shirt up over his head.

"Definitely," Harry agreed enthusiastically, chuckling again just thinking about it, "If I hadn't already known the first step of your plan, I would have assumed that was part of it."

Ron looked up from where he was rooting around inside his clothing chest for his pajamas and shook his head.

That bit of information piqued both Seamus and Dean's interests. Neville had since fallen asleep in his bed, and the other boys could hear his low, rhythmic breathing.

"What's this about a plan?" Dean asked.

"Ron has decided to begin to take matters into his own hands with Hermione," Harry explained, a small smile playing on his lips.

Seamus seemed excessively pleased by this news. "Excellent! And what did you have in mind?" The question was directed at Ron, who pulled his nightshirt over his head.

"Well, for the last week or so, I've been keeping my distance from her in order..."

"To make her realize how much she misses you!" Seamus finished excitedly, "Brilliant, Weasley, you sly beast."

Ron gave him a thoughtful look before replying, "I'd really rather you never called me that again, Seamus, thanks so much. Anyway, based on current developments, I've decided to head straight into part B."

"Step two," Harry piped up.

"What?"

"The bit for the last week was step one, so this is step two, not part B."

"Does it matter?"

"I'm just saying, you can't possibly expect to create a successful plan when you keep switching about your..."

"Step two, got it," Ron cut Harry off.

"What is step two?" Dean prodded, moving the conversation back to its original topic.

"Right," Ron said, "That's the problem I'm having. I don't really have anything past step one, save the vague understanding that a step two would be needed at some point."

Seamus groaned aloud and shook his head. "Am I the only person in this House who has the ability to be sneaky and slightly underhanded?"

When the other boys nodded at him, he reached out for his wand and commanded, "Accio quill!"

His favorite blue, goose-feathered quill flew out of his bag and into his waiting hand. Then, he reached over and nabbed a piece of parchment from his nightstand.

"We're going to do this right now," he said decisively.

Ron eyed him suspiciously, "Why does it seem like there is a nefarious ulterior motive behind you helping me?"

Seamus had the good sense to look utterly appalled by the accusation. "I'm in Gryffindor! How could you suggest such a thing?"

"Yes, you are," Dean agreed, "But we'd all eaten dinner, played a game of Quidditch and taken our O.W.L.s by the time the Sorting Hat finally decided to put you here."

An indifferent wave of his hand showed Seamus' opinion on that subject.

"It probably couldn't choose between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, based on my fearlessness in the face of danger and, on the other hand, my intelligence and unending wit. A difficult decision even for a charmed, inanimate object, I assure you."

The three other boys looked at each other and responded in unison, "Slytherin."

"Alright," Seamus declared, cutting short what would have inevitably become an incredibly off-topic listing of all his faults, "How about this for a motive besides genuinely being interested in the well-being of two of my good friends? Perhaps if this little plot works, then for the first time in almost three years I can get, you know, A DECENT NIGHT'S SLEEP!"

"Here, here!" Harry shouted from his bed, and punctuated it with a solemn salute in Seamus' direction.

Ron sighed wearily and ran a hand over his face.

"Fine. What've you got?"

"See how much smoother things run when people just defer to me?"

"I don't see anything running at all yet, Finnigan," Ron sneered, before falling back on Seamus' bed.

"Well, first of all, I stand by what I said earlier. Keeping away from her for a few days? Very cunning. I'm impressed."

"Glad for your approval," Ron answered sarcastically while motioning for his Irish friend to continue.

"I have a question now. What was Hermione's reaction to her brief deprivation from the Weasley charm?"

Ron shrugged. "Confusion, nervousness, she sought me out more and seemed loathe to leave when we finally met for whatever reason. Not an altogether disagreeable situation from my point of view, you understand. She even walked me all the way to the changing rooms today for Quidditch practice, and was going to walk right in until I pointed out where we were."

Seamus rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Excellent, and what was to be expected. I think the best course of action for step two based upon the facts you've just presented us with and the display Hermione made earlier, is to do exactly the opposite of what you've been doing during step one."

*

"Morning, Hermione," Ron greeted, sending her a cheeky grin.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. He looked distinctly like Fred and George when they were planning a particularly dastardly scheme.

"Hello, Ron. I wasn't expecting you. You haven't been attending breakfast lately."

He shrugged carelessly. "Slept late. Here now though, ready to go?"

He ducked his head to keep her from noticing his small smile when she put her hands on her hips and examined him closely. From his current vantage point, he saw her raise her right hand to touch him, but halfway to his cheek she hesitated. Clenching her fingers into a fist, she returned it to her side.

"Are you sleeping alright? You and Harry haven't been sneaking out with the Invisibility Cloak, have you?"

"I'm sleeping fine," he assured her, "Even better than fine, since I've been using those extra hours in the morning to rest instead of going to the Great Hall."

She still looked as if she didn't believe him, but then sighed slightly, obviously deciding to let it go.

"Let's go then, I want to get there before all the apple pasties are taken," she told him.

They were making the trek to the Great Hall talking amicably when, halfway there, Hermione's eyebrows suddenly furrowed.

"Where's Harry?" She asked.

"He said to go on and he'd meet us in a bit," Ron answered, "You just realized he wasn't here?"

Hermione shook her head slowly, feeling rather silly.

"I guess I didn't think about it."

*

"I need help," Ron declared later on that day in their common room.

Hermione looked up from her Defense Against the Dark Arts book.

"It's good you've finally realized that."

"Hey. And that's not what I meant. I need help with my Potions essay."

That really confused her. "The Potions essay? But that's not due for another two and a half weeks."

Ron nodded in agreement. "Yes, I wanted to get a head start on it."

"No, you didn't."

She put her book on the end table beside her, crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him with weary distrust. He was standing in front of her, his hands stuck in his pockets, his head slightly bowed and his eyes wide and innocent. She didn't believe him for a second.

"Excuse me?" He blurted, sounding surprised.

"You have never, ever, in all your years at Hogwarts wrote an essay anytime earlier than the day before it was due. Especially not a Potions essay, for Merlin's sake. What are you playing at?"

"You don't think it's possible I could just be genuinely interested in getting a good grade on this, one of my last essays ever for Potions?"

"No."

"Perhaps you're rubbing off on me?"

She shook her head sharply. "It's impossible to believe that after six years, my rubbing on you has had any affect."

Her face reddened the moment the words came out of her mouth. He looked up quickly, eyebrows rising and lips twitching.

Hermione threw her hands up in a flustered manner. "You know what I mean."

"I know, and you're right. The truth is, I wanted to spend some time with you," he admitted, looking completely unabashed.

She was pleased, but not at all convinced by his argument.

"You see me every day, Ron," she pointed out, but the uncrossing of her arms showed her resolve weakening.

"But never alone. We're always with Harry or Ginny or someone. I never get time with you anymore."

"And you decided to lure me with homework?" She asked.

"Don't make it sound so dirty, Hermione," Ron argued, "I thought the prospect of saving me from academic misery would be the only thing that could tear you away from your book, that's all. Let's go to the library."

"You promise you aren't planning some wicked scheme?"

Ron graced her with one of his deep, genuine grins. "I can't promise you that, but I can say honestly that the reason I am asking for your help is to be with you. It feels like we haven't seen each other in ages."

"I've noticed," Hermione acknowledged quietly.

"Well then? Will you come? You might even teach me something."

Her attempts to seem conflicted were utterly transparent to him, and he knew he had her. Reaching out, he took hold of both her hands and hauled her off the chair she had been sitting on. In doing so, though, he pulled fractionally too hard, and she landed gently against his chest.

He held her there a moment longer than was necessary, her head on his shoulder, their bodies flush against each other and their hands still linked at their sides.

Ron closed his eyes for a brief moment and enjoyed the contact before gently righting her. Her eyes were a glazed chocolate brown and there was a small blush spreading like butter across her cheeks.

"Sorry about that," he said, looking for all the world decidedly unapologetic, "I guess I underestimated my own strength."

"It's alright," she accepted swiftly, "Let's just get going then."

Ron refrained from chuckling when she tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ears, an obvious effort to regain her composure.

"Good idea."

He motioned for her to go through the portrait first, and followed her out.

"What time do you have Quidditch practice today?" Hermione asked when they were walking together through the hallways.

"Seven," Ron responded, "So we have a few hours yet. Did you see Malfoy today at lunch come prancing in with Parkinson all over him? Made me sick, that disgusting display. Stupid git."

Hermione sniggered into her hand and nodded. "I saw it, I think the entire Great Hall was witness to Parkinson hanging all over him. Even Malfoy looked disturbed."

Ron turned to her in surprise. "Sticking up for the Great Prat now, are you?"

"Of course not," she said, "But since we've been forced to work together as Head Boy and Girl, we've come to something of an understanding. He doesn't purposely annoy me, and I don't hit him. Rather simple, really."

"I don't think I like you having any more contact with him than you absolutely need to."

Hermione snorted, "Don't worry about that. Our ceasefire lasts we until stop working, then it's back to business as usual."

Their conversation was ended abruptly with the appearance of Brenda Bitzwagner, a sixth year Ravenclaw Ron had been chatting a lot with in recent weeks.

"Ron, hello," she greeted, and offered Hermione a pleasant smile.

"Brenda, nice to see you," Ron said honestly. She was a very agreeable sort of girl, funny and quite smart, with the sleekest black hair he'd ever seen.

"You too," her grinned widened, "I'm glad I ran into you, actually. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind helping me. We have a match against Hufflepuff coming up, and I can't seem to figure out that double-eight move you do to block Frenkelwerst's shots."

Bitzwagner was the Ravenclaw House Keeper, and an incredibly good one at that. Ron highly doubted she had any trouble whatsoever with that relatively simple maneuver.

"Normally I would, but Hermione and I are headed to the library to do some studying. Sorry."

Bitzwagner looked almost as surprised as Hermione at his declining the invitation. Both women knew there was little Ron liked to do more than go over Quidditch technique.

"Oh, ok. Some other time then," she said hastily, offering another quick smile and departing.

As she was leaving, Ron continued the walk toward the library.

"What were we talking about?" He questioned, "Oh right, Malfoy..."

His words died when he saw Hermione's confused expression. "What?"

"You do realize that Bitzwagner wasn't asking you to help her out of a desire to learn some little Quidditch move, right?"

He shot her an amused grin. "Thank you, Hermione."

She looked annoyed at his sarcasm. "Haven't you been interested in her for weeks now? That was the perfect opportunity."

He shrugged. "Perhaps, but I'd already made plans with you."

"Oh really, Ron, it's just a little studying, we could do it any time. What's working on Potions compared to playing Quidditch?"

"That wasn't the choice I had," he answered simply.

"And what was it?" Her voice challenged him to come up with a suitable retort. He was happy to oblige.

"The choice was between you and someone else, and so really there was no contest. You should know that."