Disclaimer: Come on now, people! If I owned Harry Potter, not only would Ron and Hermione be an official couple by now, but I and several of my friends would all be characters in the last two books...DAMN, that would be sweet...ahem, but since I don't, all I got is this story. Enjoy! Reviews make me happy!

Summary: Hermione hasn't been able to focus on her studies lately! Of course, her secretly harbored feelings for a certain freckle-faced redhead aren't exactly helping her concentrate. Cute humorous fluff for all my fellow R/H shippers. I know you're out there!

Rated R for language, crude humor, some drug references, and SEVERE naughtiness in the prefect bathroom...heh heh ;)

Concentration is Highly Overrated

Chapter One: Sparrows Have Freckles?

"DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!!!"

These would be the choice words one would hear if one happened to be in the 6th year Gryffindor girls' dormitory on a certain Friday evening at 6:30 p.m. By this time, Hermione Granger was thoroughly fed up with herself. Having tried (quite unsuccessfully) to complete her Potions essay for the past two and a half hours, she finally laid her quill aside in defeat.

"I still have a foot to go, and I've been driving myself simply batty trying to think of semi-intelligent things to write! Merlin, why can't I concentrate?!" she muttered to no one in particular.

Sighing deeply, she placed a hand on her forehead and sat back in her chair to think. What on earth could possibly be so distracting that she, Hermione Granger, top of her class in every subject AND school prefect, couldn't seem to give sufficient attention to her work?

After ten minutes of pondering the source of her problems, Hermione had nothing.

"Ah, screw this, I'm taking a break. Maybe if I go downstairs with my book and have a nice sit by the fire for a while, I can clear my head..." she thought aloud.

Slowly walking down the stairs, she paused for a brief moment to watch two sparrows on a tree branch just outside the window. The small brown one chirped merrily and fluttered around as the other, who was a bit larger and more reddish, chased after her. Hermione couldn't stop a small smile from breaking out on her face when the brown sparrow finally landed on the branch and soon nestled herself under the reddish one's wing.

Hermione's gaze fixed subconsciously on the reddish sparrow as her thoughts drifted. He seems so very protective of the brown one...so loving...so freckled...wait a minute—freckled?!?! GAH! What the hell is wrong with me?! A perfectly ordinary thing like two sparrows on a branch, and I start going on about freckles...and fiery red hair...and ocean blue eyes...and toned muscles from playing Quidditch...and a big—OK! STOP! Bad Hermione! No more naughty thoughts!

Snapping herself out of her sparrow-watching/sexual fantasy moment, the young witch rushed down the rest of the dormitory stairs, almost causing her to drop her Potions book along the way. The plush couch looked only too comfortable, and she plopped down gratefully. With a cry of "Incendio!" and a casual flick of her wand, the common room was bathed in a warm, inviting glow. The bright red-orange flames (which were also NOT helping her concentration, since they reminded her of someone's hair) crackled cheerfully in the fireplace while Hermione desperately tried to remember facts about snake venom and dried rosemary leaves.

"When brewed together, these ingredients, combined with two fresh rat spleens and a single unicorn hair, can be used to create a Healing Potion commonly used by wizards who work with (and are often injured by) dangerous magical creatures..." she read aloud. Hmmm, maybe I should whip up a batch of this stuff for Hagrid...goodness knows he could probably use it...

Forty-five minutes of this would be enough to make anyone sleepy, let alone someone who had previously been working on it for over three hours. The crackling of the fire was quickly making Hermione very drowsy indeed. Okay, Hermione. Ten minute nap, then it's back to work... the sensible voice in her head told her. She stifled a yawn and stretched out languidly on the couch, book still open in her lap.

I have to get my concentration back...must get rid of these naughty thoughts...concentrate...freckles... was her last waking deliberation. Little did she know that fifteen minutes later, the very source of her problem would come strolling into the common room to find her fast asleep...mumbling something about freckles, sparrows, and (you guessed it) concentrating.



All righty! Well, that's enough for tonight. If you haven't figured out who the "source" of Hermione's concentration issues are by now...I feel sorry for you. Did you notice how many friggin' times she either said or thought the word "concentrate"?! Geez! Anyway, quick shout-out to my good friend/roomie Tygrressatheart. Love, peace, and chicken grease! lol. Did I mention that I love reviews?!?! ;)