Title: Don't Do Drugs! (Thanks to Bex! Her banner inspired this story!) Author: Ama Pairings: Ron/Hermione (Don't Do Drugs!*wink*) Rating: PG-13 Note: Third person omniscient narrative arranged to conveniently portray the action concerned with furthering the plot. All descriptions and images are significant to later parts of the narrative. (Boy! this sounds like something for English class!)

Disclaimer: All characters and locations within this story are the property of J.K. Rowling. The plot is mine.

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Hiccupping, the stumbling, redheaded boy led a group of ready, anxious first-years down a dark, dank corridor, which would eventually lead to the Gryffindor Common Room. He trumbled along, nearly toppling over every time a hiccup interrupted his slow and faulty, yet determined, step. With each encumbering hiccup, the worried first-years stumbled over each other as they struggled to support the toppling leader before he fell. In this slow, inefficient way, the group of students made their way down the irksome hallway.

A few hallways away, another prefect led a similar group of students down a similar hallway. However, this prefect was not handicapped by troublesome hiccups, and her students didn't have to stumble over each other to support her. She of the buoyant, brown curls led the students with a hurried, pompous stride, scolding the younger, clumsier legs when they couldn't keep up with her fast pace. As she guided the students along the empty corridor, the girl gave notable lectures on the school's rules, as well as its history and the significance of its architecture, quoting from one of her favorite books: Hogwarts, A History.

Several floors above the two antithetical prefects, the school's headmaster sat in his office, watching the progress of the two on one of his numerous, glittering silver instruments. He stared intensely at the images of the two wandering prefects as they drew nearer and nearer to each other. He surveyed anxiously the image of the stumbling, drunk, redheaded boy as he blundered closer to the responsible, curly haired girl that was excitedly sharing her knowledge with the first-years. He knew before it happened that the two would collide, and he silently counted down the seconds until it would happen. 10...9...8...the girl glanced expectantly back at her charges as she asked them a question, rounding the corner into the next hallway...3...2...the boy tripped over his feet as he hiccupped once more, and the two collided.

"Hey! Wotchwhuryoorgwing!" slurred the boy, tumbling to his feet with the help of the big-eyed first-years that he was leading.

"You don't have to tell me to watch where I'm going, Ron Weasley!" the sixth-year girl responded vehemently. "I should be yelling at you for acting the way you are around a bunch of first-years! You should know better than that! How will they ever learn to respect you when you act so irresponsibly the first time that they are put under your care?"

The redheaded boy stopped, staring at the girl dejectedly while trying to percolate a comeback. He couldn't devise one, and sighed in contempt. The girl almost felt sorry for him, but then he hiccupped, and it reminded her that he had caused all of the trouble himself. She opened her mouth to begin scolding him again, but on her sharp intake of breath, he fumblingly raised his hand in a gesture to make her stop, and sighed again.

"Just stop, Hermione," he asserted before she said something. "I know," he continued, "just let me go without yelling at me too much."

Upon another sigh from him, Hermione's back lost its rigidity, and she managed to whisper okay before he turned away, annoyed, and continued to lead the younger students on to the portrait of the Fat Lady. She turned back to the pupils she was leading, who were staring open-mouthed at the boy's receding back. She realized then that she still had duties to do, and she called out to her students.

"Okay, first-years, follow me," she yelled, guiding the students onward. "The password for the next few weeks will be porcupine bile. Remember that, but don't write it down. We don't want any nasty Slytherins finding their way into our Common Room." At this, a few the first years laughed nervously. "I will let you know when we receive a new password," she continued. Sighing, Hermione led the first-years through the portrait hole when it swung open, and showed them to their dormitories. She gazed longingly up the stairwell to the sixth-year boys' dormitory before finding her way to her own dorm room, where Lavender and Parvati were waiting for her. Her heart lurched as she undressed and climbed into bed. He'll never figure it out, she thought, before closing her eyes and going to sleep.

As lights turned out all over the school, Albus Dumbledore turned his eyes from the silver instrument he was staring at. "Maybe they will discover more about their feelings this year, Fawkes. Goodness knows I hope they do."

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