Kismet

'Hermione, stop, I'm not, –' Ron sneezed loudly, and sniffed, '– sick,' he finished, without really convincing anyone.

'Honestly, Ron, you are sick. You should go to Madam Pomfrey.'

Ron glared at her, sniffing again, and wiping his nose on his sleeve. 'I am not. Besides, I can't be sick, because we have a Quidditch match in the afternoon.'

Hermione let out an angry growl. 'Ron, stop being such a stubborn prat, and go to the Hospital Wing!'

'No!' said Ron, jumping up. Hermione patiently grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled him back down. 'Do you really think you can play Quidditch like that?'

'Like what?' huffed Ron, crossing his arms over his chest.

'You sneeze every three seconds, you have a fever ('Haven't!'), and you're sick. You can't play Quidditch.'

'Can too,' said Ron, pouting.

'You're not a three-year-old, Ron,' said Hermione, rubbing her forehead wearily with her left hand.

'Lay off, Hermione. I'm going to play Quidditch. And I'm not sick.' Ron stood up, forgetting Hermione was still holding his shirt.

Hermione found herself being pulled up; she wobbled and lost her balance, crashing into Ron, who put his hands on her shoulders to stop himself from falling.

'Oh, he smells nice, doesn't he? Go ask him what it is,' a voice in the back of her mind said.

'I will not.'

'Yes, you will. You're curious.'

'No.'

'Yes, you are.'

'I most certainly am not!'

'You're pathetic, you know that?'

'Ron, could you just go? Please?'

He sneezed. 'No.'

'But, –'

'I said, no!' And with that, Ron pushed her away. Hermione, who hadn't expected this, fell backwards, tripped over a table, and landed rather forcefully on her...

'Bloody hell, Hermione, are you all right?' Ron was kneeling next to her. Hermione groaned, sitting up and rubbing her back with a pained expression. 'I don't recall seeing a table there.'

'Seamus moved it last night so that we could play Exploding Snap,' said Ron apologetically, and Hermione rolled her eyes, and tried to stand up. Ron extended a hand to help her.

'Thanks, Ron,' said Hermione, surprised at his unexpected display of chivalry, when she was back on her feet again.

'No problem.' Ron grinned at her as she dusted her skirt off.

Ron's grin was a very peculiar thing, she'd decided long ago. He would tilt his head somewhat, and grin, but only half way, so that a small dimple would appear in his cheek. Hermione absolutely loved his grin.

'Could you please go to the Hospital Wing?' she asked.

You could say a lot of things about Hermione Granger. She was intelligent, pretty (though she didn't really know it), witty and funny, when she wished to be. Sometimes, however, she really didn't have good timing.

Ron's grin faded. 'I told you, I'm not going,' he snapped at her.

'I'll hex you.'

'W-what?'

'I said, –' began Hermione, but Ron interrupted her.

'I know what you said. You'd hex me?' He tried to make it sound like an offhand comment, but Ron would always be Ron – and that Ron would be a terrible liar.

'Yes, I would,' said Hermione matter-of-factly, putting her hands on her hips. Ron sighed deeply, looking at her. 'All right, I'll go,' he said, defeated.

Hermione's anger vanished, and she let out a victorious squeak, which she turned into a cough when Ron gave her a strange look.

'You're free to go now, Mr. Weasley. Though, you should've stopped by sooner.'

Ron glared at Madam Pomfrey, who hadn't noticed the smug look on Hermione's face, while she grabbed the Pepperup Potion from the nightstand next to the bed Ron had been forced to sit in, and disappeared into her office.

'Now aren't you glad you went to Hospital Wing?'

Ron rolled his eyes.

'I'm always right, you know,' she continued, undeterred.

He didn't reply, choosing to study the ceiling intently instead.

'You smell good.'

Ron immediately turned around, staring at her. Hermione smiled and leant over to kiss his cheek. Ron gave her an even more bewildered look, putting his hands on his cheek.

'Good luck on the Quidditch match, Ron,' said Hermione. 'I'm really glad you're feeling better, you know. I was just concerned.'

Ron nodded, and Hermione's smile widened. Then, without a warning, and without planning to at all, Ron leant forward and pressed his lips to hers.

And Hermione couldn't have been happier.

Author's Note: This one's for magicteen, who requested a stubborn sick Ron and a persuasive Hermione.