Never is Good, Too [Harry Potter - Ron/Pansy] PG-13
Title: Never is Good, Too
Summary: Harry and Hermione are in the middle of doing rounds when they happen upon…well, you’ll see.
Characters/Pairings: Ron/Pansy, Harry, Hermione
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humor
Beta: None
Rating/Warnings: PG for insinuations
Word Count: 624
Prompt/Challenge: Ficlet #25 - Pairing crack
Author's Note: Written for hh-sugarquill. 01/13 for my rarepair_shorts claim.
A shrill giggle sounded from behind the door on the other side of the corridor, making the two Prefects, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, pause.
“Er…was it just me, or did that door just laugh?”
“No, Harry, you’re right. There’s someone in there.” A stern look crossed Hermione’s face. Students in broom closets was certainly against the rules. “We need to take care of this right away!”
With determined strides, Hermione marched down the hallway toward the closet to give those delinquents what for. Harry stumbled over his clumsy feet to catch up with her.
Just as she was about to pound away on the door, demanding the students emerge, Harry grabbed her wrist.
“Wait!” He urged quietly.
She turned to him, a sharp reprimand on her tongue, but another high-pitched giggle stopped her, followed by a loud guffaw that was decidedly masculine in timbre.
Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise, and then quickly narrowed in anger. Two students in the broom closet?! Snogging, I’m sure, she seethed. Well, that just won’t do.
Again, she opened her mouth to yell at the irresponsible dunderheads, and again, the voices inside stopped her.
“Ron!” a female voice called, accompanied by a now breathy giggle. “Not there! Oh!”
Hermione paused, holding back a gasp. Ron? As in Ronald Weasley?
A very male, very familiar chuckle rumbled through the wooden door.
It was Ronald!
Hermione’s anger immediately dissipated, replaced instead by immense curiosity. She looked to Harry to find him already pressing his ear against the door, face scrunched in concentration as he tried to hear more. Hermione followed suit.
Catching her eye, Harry mouthed silently, “Ron has a girlfriend!”
“Since when?” Hermione mouthed back.
Their silent conversation was interrupted by a loud moan (very male, and apparently, very Ron). The two eavesdroppers blushed profusely. They probably shouldn’t be listening to this…
“Yes, Pansy!” Ron crowed.
This time, Hermione couldn’t hold back her gasp.
Pansy Parkinson?!
Crikey. She’d officially seen it all.
Harry was similarly astonished. In fact, he looked so pale that Hermione feared he might fall over right there. She gripped his shoulder in a show of support. Together, the two friends cringed, shuddered, winced, gasped, and bit back numerous gags and harsh laughs as they (somewhat shamefacedly, they’d admit) listened in on their friend’s private moment with his girl.
Many minutes later, the noise within quieted. Hermione, who was (very inexplicably) feeling sort of hot and bothered all of a sudden, looked to her companion, her head motioning down the hall in a questioning manner. A flushed Harry nodded in agreement.
Both of them should just leave (actually, they probably should have just left seventeen minutes ago); they could confront Ron and Pansy later. Or never, Hermione thought. Never is good, too.
But before they could leave-or, really, before they could move at all-the closet door swung open.
Both Prefects lost balance immediately, pitching forward and landing in ungainly heaps on the stone floor. Twin gasps sounded somewhere above them.
Hermione held her breath. Bad. Very, very, bad, she panicked.
She looked up, meeting the horrified stares of a very mussed Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson.
“Er…”
Suddenly, Harry sprang to his feet and rushed out the door, careening down the hall as if someone had cast a Bat-Bogey Hex on him.
Wanting desperately to follow suit, Hermione awkwardly came to her feet and turned to face the now profusely blushing fifth-years. Then, with only an embarrassed wave in greeting, she ran out the door after Harry.
She could punish them later for breaking the rules.
Or just never speak of this moment ever again.
Yes, never. Never is good, too.
Summary: Harry and Hermione are in the middle of doing rounds when they happen upon…well, you’ll see.
Characters/Pairings: Ron/Pansy, Harry, Hermione
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humor
Beta: None
Rating/Warnings: PG for insinuations
Word Count: 624
Prompt/Challenge: Ficlet #25 - Pairing crack
Author's Note: Written for hh-sugarquill. 01/13 for my rarepair_shorts claim.
A shrill giggle sounded from behind the door on the other side of the corridor, making the two Prefects, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, pause.
“Er…was it just me, or did that door just laugh?”
“No, Harry, you’re right. There’s someone in there.” A stern look crossed Hermione’s face. Students in broom closets was certainly against the rules. “We need to take care of this right away!”
With determined strides, Hermione marched down the hallway toward the closet to give those delinquents what for. Harry stumbled over his clumsy feet to catch up with her.
Just as she was about to pound away on the door, demanding the students emerge, Harry grabbed her wrist.
“Wait!” He urged quietly.
She turned to him, a sharp reprimand on her tongue, but another high-pitched giggle stopped her, followed by a loud guffaw that was decidedly masculine in timbre.
Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise, and then quickly narrowed in anger. Two students in the broom closet?! Snogging, I’m sure, she seethed. Well, that just won’t do.
Again, she opened her mouth to yell at the irresponsible dunderheads, and again, the voices inside stopped her.
“Ron!” a female voice called, accompanied by a now breathy giggle. “Not there! Oh!”
Hermione paused, holding back a gasp. Ron? As in Ronald Weasley?
A very male, very familiar chuckle rumbled through the wooden door.
It was Ronald!
Hermione’s anger immediately dissipated, replaced instead by immense curiosity. She looked to Harry to find him already pressing his ear against the door, face scrunched in concentration as he tried to hear more. Hermione followed suit.
Catching her eye, Harry mouthed silently, “Ron has a girlfriend!”
“Since when?” Hermione mouthed back.
Their silent conversation was interrupted by a loud moan (very male, and apparently, very Ron). The two eavesdroppers blushed profusely. They probably shouldn’t be listening to this…
“Yes, Pansy!” Ron crowed.
This time, Hermione couldn’t hold back her gasp.
Pansy Parkinson?!
Crikey. She’d officially seen it all.
Harry was similarly astonished. In fact, he looked so pale that Hermione feared he might fall over right there. She gripped his shoulder in a show of support. Together, the two friends cringed, shuddered, winced, gasped, and bit back numerous gags and harsh laughs as they (somewhat shamefacedly, they’d admit) listened in on their friend’s private moment with his girl.
Many minutes later, the noise within quieted. Hermione, who was (very inexplicably) feeling sort of hot and bothered all of a sudden, looked to her companion, her head motioning down the hall in a questioning manner. A flushed Harry nodded in agreement.
Both of them should just leave (actually, they probably should have just left seventeen minutes ago); they could confront Ron and Pansy later. Or never, Hermione thought. Never is good, too.
But before they could leave-or, really, before they could move at all-the closet door swung open.
Both Prefects lost balance immediately, pitching forward and landing in ungainly heaps on the stone floor. Twin gasps sounded somewhere above them.
Hermione held her breath. Bad. Very, very, bad, she panicked.
She looked up, meeting the horrified stares of a very mussed Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson.
“Er…”
Suddenly, Harry sprang to his feet and rushed out the door, careening down the hall as if someone had cast a Bat-Bogey Hex on him.
Wanting desperately to follow suit, Hermione awkwardly came to her feet and turned to face the now profusely blushing fifth-years. Then, with only an embarrassed wave in greeting, she ran out the door after Harry.
She could punish them later for breaking the rules.
Or just never speak of this moment ever again.
Yes, never. Never is good, too.