Swear

Summary: Hermione utters a swear word for the first time in her life. Ron is delighted. RH one-shot.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. (No, I did not write that disclaimer. I copied and pasted it from someone else's story because it sounded official.)

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Hermione Granger considered herself to be a sensible and rational person. She did not lose her temper. She was not spontaneous. Everything she did had to be planned ahead of time. She did not break school rules. She always did her homework, and she always completed her essays at least a week ahead of time. She did not blush or act all giggly and girly around boys. And she most definitely did not swear.

Yet lately she had been feeling all out of sorts. She found herself arguing ceaselessly with Ron (all right, she always argued ceaselessly with Ron, but lately she had been arguing even more ceaselessly) and losing her temper and having her face turn a rather unattractive shade of red. Not that she cared whether she was attractive, of course. There were far more important things than looks. Her education, for instance.

Yesterday, Ron had invited her to watch the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice. She didn't even like Quidditch, and besides, she hadn't finished her Potions essay due in two weeks. Yet she agreed to go without even thinking. She had never before made a decision without thinking about the logical choice and the consequences resulting from each decision.

She'd sat up in the bleachers, contemplating her actions and trying to figure out what was wrong with her, when Ron flew by in his scarlet Quidditch robes, his cheeks flushed and his hair adorably mussed.

No, no, no, not adorable! He's Ron

"Hey, Hermione," he said breathlessly as he flew past her.

She was blushing. Blushing. Good thing Ron didn't notice, as he was already halfway across the Quidditch pitch.

Merlin. She was turning into such a sap.

Hermione banished her thoughts and turned back to her Potions essay. Her quill hovered over the parchment as she scanned across the page of her reference book.

"Hermione."

Hermione looked up from her essay and fought to keep her expression neutral. "Hi, Ron."

"Can I take a look at your Transfiguration essay?"

"Ron, you've had all week to do your essay, and you're only just asking me for help now?"

"I'm not asking for help! I just want to see your essay—I only have five inches left."

Hermione concentrated very hard on her Potions book. Ron was much too close to her, and she knew that if she met his eyes, she'd hand her essay right over. Damn him for having so much control over her.

"Hermione, come on. I just want to see it for a minute. It's late, and—"

"It's late because you spent the last three hours playing Exploding Snap with Harry," Hermione snapped. "Go away, Ron, I'm working on my Potions essay."

Ron gaped at her. "That essay isn't due in two bloody weeks, Hermione. You can't sacrifice two minutes away from your precious essay to help out a friend?"

"Don't swear, Ron," Hermione said primly as she wrote another sentence of her essay.

Ron stood a moment longer beside Hermione, then sighed in exasperation. "Fine, Hermione." He stomped off in the direction where Harry was sitting.

Hermione found herself feeling a bit guilty, but quickly excused her action. She hadn't done anything wrong, after all—she'd merely prevented cheating, and as a Prefect, that was her job. Ron was a Prefect, too, and he should be responsible enough to finish his own essay without having to "consult" her own.

Yet she couldn't quite erase the look of hurt on his face when she'd snapped at him, and she felt a vague sense of disappointment. She promised herself that she'd compensate by helping him with his Potions essay tomorrow.

A tap on her shoulder jolted her out of her thoughts, causing her to jump, and in the process skillfully knock over her ink bottle so that her essay was now completely immersed in black liquid. She turned around in frustration. "Damn it, Ron, look what you made me do!" She cleaned up the mess as well as she could with the help of a Scouring Spell.

Ron, however, instead of bending down to help her, was staring at her like she'd sprouted another head.

Git.

"What?" Hermione snapped irritably.

"Hermione," Ron said slowly, drawing out the syllables.

His eyes had widened to a frightening size, and Hermione began to worry for his sanity.

"Hermione," he said again. "You—you swore!"

Hermione stared at him blankly for a moment. "I did no such thing!"

"Merlin, Hermione, you have the most awful short-term memory out of anyone I've ever met. Just now, you said—and don't say I'm wrong because I'm positive I heard you say this—'Damn it, Ron, look what you made me do!'"

Realization smacked Hermione in the face. The truth of the matter was, she'd been so used to thinking swear words in her head that she'd been completely unaware that she'd uttered the evil word out loud. But Ron was not to know that, of course.

"No, no," she tried to protest feebly. "I didn't say D-A-M-N; I said 'dam,' as in D-A-M. That's not a swear word."

"Oh, puh-leeze," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "You said a swear word, Hermione. 'Fess up."

"No! See, when I said dam—D-A-M—I meant the kind of dam that holds back water."

"I know what a dam is, Hermione! I'm not completely ignorant of Muggle objects."

"Let me finish! I meant that kind of dam—I was telling you to dam it—the ink, I mean, so it wouldn't spill everywhere!" Hermione took a deep breath and shot a triumphant look at Ron, rather pleased with her explanation.

Ron looked torn for a moment, as though trying to decide what to believe. For a moment, Hermione was almost certain that he'd believe her explanation.

Her hopes were dashed when he burst into obnoxiously loud, raucous laughter, and she wondered, not for the first time, what she saw in him.

Ron was already drawing attention to himself. Everyone in the common room looked at him in amusement as he doubled over, clutching his chair for support, wheezing. To make matters worse, as soon as he'd composed himself somewhat, he shouted at the top of his lungs for all to hear, "Hermione Granger swore!"

Hermione felt herself flushing a deeper scarlet than the Gryffindor Quidditch robes. "I did not!" she proclaimed just as loudly to the common room. "Ronald Weasley here just wants to get me back because I wouldn't let him see my Transfiguration essay!"

She saw, however, as she did a quick scan of the room, that not many people seemed to believe her. Harry and Ginny, looking rather cozy together in their corner, were gawking at her, their mouths twitching from suppressed laughter.

"Hermione Granger swore," Ron announced again. "Hermione Granger, Head Girl, Miss Perfect, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes, Miss Telling-Off-Everyone-Who-Swears, said her very first swearword. She said—" Here, he paused dramatically, and continued, "'Damn!'"

Hermione, if possible, turned ever redder, as Harry and Ginny finally lost their ability to hold back their giggles and erupted into laughter. Hermione glared at them.

"So now Hermione can't scold me for swearing anymore, because she's done it herself, and she'd be a hypocrite if she tells me not to swear," Ron said delightedly.

Hermione was about to eject a biting remark, when Ron quite unexpectedly leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. But somehow, she found herself a few minutes later in his lap, one hand buried in his hair, the other resting on his shoulder, their tongues interlocked as they shared saliva. And somehow, Hermione found that she didn't mind. She rather liked it, as a matter of fact. Actually, she had been wanting to do that since she was thirteen.

The common room exploded into whoops and applause, and Hermione blushed. But she saw that Ron's ears had turned red, and she felt decidedly more at ease.

"Hermione," Ron said hoarsely. "I'm—sorry—I didn't mean to—"

She silenced him with another kiss and was rather pleased with her bravery. Ron's eyes widened, but he had no qualms about engaging in another session of snogging…

"Oh, get a room, you two," someone said.

They broke apart, Hermione unable to stop smiling.

She was definitely going to swear in Ron's presence again sometime soon.

FIN.

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AN: I am fully aware that the above story was rather ridiculous and would never happen in canon. So sue me. I had fun writing it… though it did turn out shorter than I expected it to be, and the characters seem a bit two-dimensional. And I realize that the title is probably the stupidest thing I have ever come up with, but it's two in the morning and I want to get this posted because if I so much as stray one foot away from my homework in my mom's presence, I will not be allowed to go to my best friend's sixteenth birthday party. Oh, the threats.

I know I should be working on "Disillusionment," but RH plot bunnies invaded my head during AP Biology and instead of taking notes on pleiotropy and epistasis, I was writing Harry Potter fanfiction. I will definitely have another installment of "Disillusionment" up sometime during winter break.

Review, please! Thanks!

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