Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of someone else. Go read her work, I assure you that it's much better than my fluffy tripe.
Damn. Damn damn damn damn… you get the point.
My point is, I just kissed my friend. One of my best friends. In fact, it barely qualified as a kiss. It was more of a snog. I just snogged my best friend.
How did I let this happen? How could Ronald Weasley fall so far into idiocy ("It wasn't that far of a fall") as to do something so monumentally STUPID?
It started three days ago…
I was walking down the hall to Potions. Harry, the lucky prat, was injured from a deranged Quaffle (those things are dangerous; it was a Hufflepuff practice at the time), so I was walking alone to my favourite class.
When I arrived I saw the usual group of Slytherin idiots standing outside the door, two of them doing something Hermione would no doubt disapprove of. When I saw Hermione approach from behind them, I discovered that I was right. ("For once.") Shut up, Ginny.
"Honestly," she muttered. She's pretty when she's indignant, I thought, to which I added, Don't think that about friends. I likely would have had a long, tedious mental argument, but Snape chose that exact moment to let us in.
"Today, class, we will be… separating," Snape said, as if disgusted about something. Of course, there were Gryffindors in the room. "Ladies, you will go with Professor McGonagall. Gentlemen… you stay with me."
Just then, the door burst open, and Harry rushed in and sat down next to Hermione and me. "Mr Potter, you're—" Snape looked up at the clock to decide just how many points to remove from our house—"right on time. Damn." At that point, McGonagall arrived in the door to escort the girls to wherever they were going, and in the noise I got to ask Harry what the bloody Hell he was doing there when he could be… anywhere but there.
"Madame Pomfrey told me to rush down here. She said that I would want to see this Potions lesson," Harry explained, rubbing his injured arm slightly. "I wonder what would be so important that she would send me away. Normally I have to beg to be released."
"Everyone kindly shut their mouths and turn their attentions to me," Snape said in his voice normally reserved for talking to Harry, Hermione, or me. "Now, this is not something I was hoping to ever have to teach, but apparently Headmaster Dumbledore finds me to be a better instructor in this than Professor Flitwick." As he was talking, he started handing out thin little textbooks. "You will need these."
He went back to the front of the class and wrote in glowing letters with his wand "Contraceptive Potion." This caused a wave of giggles and red faces in the room. Ginny, stop laughing.
"Everyone turn to page seventeen and copy the ingredients as precisely as humanly possible. There will be a test on this, as I don't think some of you should reproduce any time soon." He glared pointedly at Neville and went on. "As some of the smarter of you have figured out, your female classmates are taking similar lessons from Professor McGonagall. Do not let this influence your actions!"
We were shocked by the emphasis he put on it. "Birth control potions for women are sporadically effective at best. And for those of you with more intelligent girlfriends—" here he glared at me for some reason—"don't think you can get by on their skills alone. The potion only works if you make it. Never EVER forget this." His eyes seemed to say, "Or else you might end up like Weasley's family." ("Idiot.") I know.
"Unfortunately, there's no truly effective way to see if you've done the potion right except by listening for the pitter-patter of little feet." I doubt I'll ever know just how he could make that sound so sinister. "However, the potions are orange, and one can usually tell by taste if it worked. It's disgusting. Truly, if the female equivalent is any worse, it's a wonder there aren't more of you.
"By now, even the slowest of you should have had enough time to copy down the necessary ingredients and instructions, so you may start." He walked around, as if angry at us because our presence made him the one forced to teach us this.
"Each ingredient is extremely important," he went on, "and even one missing can have dire consequences. Never forget to add the Spanish Fly. It counteracts certain… side-effects the potion itself can have." He was almost blushing when he said that. Harry looked about to explode with laughter when he realised that Snape was probably speaking from experience. I had to cough to cover mine. I'll continue after you're done laughing.
I put more effort into that potion than any other I've done yet. It's not as if Snape has had anything important to teach yet anyway. The swamp water, the rabbit skin, the Spanish Fly (Neville almost forgot his)… it was the perfect potion. It was what perfect potions aspired to be. It was something a potion's wildest dreams… I'll just go on then, shall I?
By the end of class, everyone's potion was bubbling with an orange liquid, even Neville's. Even the Slytherins had found the lesson important enough to not goof up with.
"Very good… nice… sufficient… not bad, Longbottom. Better than I'm used to from you, anyway… excellent, Mr Malfoy…" Snape walked up and down the room assessing the potions. "Looks like I won't be forced to teach any more Weasleys or Grangers anytime soon…"
"What did he mean by that?" I whispered to Harry. He just shook his head and turned away. Kind of like how you're doing now.
"All of your potions were more than I've come to expect from most of you. I suppose your hormones are the controlling parts of you," Snape said coldly. "I won't require you to test it until the time comes in which you'll need to test it. Rest assured, if any of you have offspring before you leave school, you shall not pass Potions. Store your Contraceptive Potions and get out of my sight."
There was a small amount to store, so we used tiny vials. I actually have mine with me. No, you can't see it.
We met Hermione at lunch. She was blushing profusely when she saw us, and I can't imagine we were looking any less red. She's cute when she's embarrassed, I thought. Stop thinking that way!
We ate in somewhat awkward silence, waiting for one of us to say something. It was Hermione who broke the silence. "So, how was class?" Wrong topic, Hermione, I thought.
"Oh, fun. We got to learn about horrible tasting potions and Snape's erectile dysfunction," I replied. Harry coughed and nearly spat out his food while Hermione looked like a radish. Cute, I thought again. Stop it.
"Well, that was an image I could have done without," Harry said, pushing his plate away. Hermione and I followed suit. "Of course, the girl he took it for probably said the same thing."
"Eww. I don't want to think about a girl that would do that with Snape."
"Can we please find a different conversation topic?" Hermione exclaimed. "How did you do with your potion?"
"Everyone's was fine. Even Neville's. He couldn't even find fault with ours," Harry told her.
"Really? That's great. Professor McGonagall told us that the potion works a lot better for men than it does women," Hermione said. "She said it was because a truly effective potion would have to be crafted to the cycles of that particular woman, and these are just general."
"Fascinating," I said sarcastically. I held up my vial of orange potion. "I can't believe this won't work if I'm not the one to make it."
"You're carrying yours around with you?"
"What if you break it? You'd be in a spot then, wouldn't you?"
"Well even if I did, it's not as if I'm planning on shagging anyone any time soon!"
"That's not the point, Ron!"
"Well what is the point?"
Harry had been watching us with an odd look on his face. In my opinion, that had hardly qualified as a fight. Far less than what we're used to. He looked like he was remembering something important
Just then, Snape's words came rushing back to me. "Looks like I won't be forced to teach any more Weasleys or Grangers anytime soon…"
He was saying that Hermione and I were… but we hadn't…He thought that I was in love with her. I looked over at her, with her arms folded and her nose turned up and I realised something. He was right.
I'd fallen for one of my best friends.
Kidding. To be continued, as soon as I figure out where I'm going with it. In case you hadn't figured it out, Ron is addressing all this to Ginny. You'll find out why later. All of the bold italicised print is Ginny talking. Except this. And the disclaimer. That's me talking.