Chapter Two
Ron gaped at Harry, his mouth opening and closing like a
goldfish. Eventually, though, he found his voice.
“YOU WANT ME TO WHAT?”
“Kick Professor Snape,” Harry replied.
“Up the arse,” Hermione added helpfully.
Harry nodded in agreement. “Yeah, although I’d try to avoid
making contact with the crown jewels. I think he’d end you if you did that.”
“Crown jewels?” One of the pureblood First-Years, a boy
named Alastair Higgs, asked.
“You know,” Harry replied. “Gonads. Cojones. Knackers.
Nuts.”
“I think they understand Harry,” Hermione said, a small,
amused smile appearing as she listened to her friend.
“Rocks. Bollocks. Goolies.” Harry continued.
“Privates?” Neville chipped in, receiving a thumbs-up from
Harry in return.
“Testes! Sack! Scrote!” Fred and George had joined in now.
“I GET IT,” Ron cried. “Harry – mate – I can’t do that.
Snape would kill me!”
“Professor Snape,
Ronald.” Hermione sighed.
“I don’t really think his title matters if I’ve got to kick
him up the arse.” Ron snarled back.
“Especially if you make contact with his stones,” Alastair
interjected and was swiftly swept off his feet by Fred and George, who danced
him around the room, exclaiming how proud they were of the ickle-firstie.
“Harry… please…” Ron begged.
“Sorry mate – all I can suggest is you have a bloody good
plan. Oh, and there needs to be proof – witnesses or a photo, I’m afraid. We
can’t have you just claiming you’ve done it when you haven’t.”
“And don’t let Mum find out.” Added Ginny, causing Ron’s
face to pale dramatically.
“You’ve got 6 weeks, Ron,” Harry said. “That should be
plenty of time for a master strategist such as yourself to come up with a plan
and execute it.”
“Just don’t balls it up,” Hermione said, then giggled as Harry, who had been staring at her, amazed that she’d joined in the game, swept her into his arms before jokingly demanding that she marry him.
-----
Lying in bed that night, Ron decided Harry was right. He was a chess prodigy – strategy was his thing! The more he thought about it, the more confident he became that he could pull this off. He began imagining the adulation he would receive when he was successful and eventually drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.
That level of confidence allowed him to put off planning the
act until after his OWLs had finished – the only problem being that, whilst 6
weeks seemed an enormous amount of time to accomplish the task before him, 3
weeks meant the deadline was now staring him in the face.
Ron had taken to pacing around the common room, muttering to
himself and occasionally shaking his head as though dismissing an idea. At
first, this behaviour had been alarming to some of the first-year Gryffindors
but once they’d understood this was Ron’s method of planning, they sat back and
watched, occasionally hearing words such as ‘shoelaces’, ‘broomsticks’ or
‘sausages’ – although admittedly that last one came just before lunch so may
not have been related to Ron’s undertaking.
Then it happened. With two weeks remaining, Ron – who had
been standing at the tower window looking down at the Black Lake – suddenly
burst into action and sprinted for the common room door, forcing a group of
Second-Year students to scatter rather than being run down by the rapidly
approaching ginger mass that was hurtling toward them. Harry grabbed Hermione’s
hand and together they hurtled after him, down the mass of staircases and out
of the huge doors that led out to the castle grounds. They watched from a
distance as Ron hid behind a tree, studying the Potions Master who was
carefully combing the edge of the lake for potions ingredients. Harry pulled
his wand from his pocket and conjured a large bowl of popcorn before pulling
Hermione down onto the grass next to him to watch Ron’s plan unfold.
As Professor Snape bent over to pick a herb, Ron saw his
opportunity and ran at his teacher full pelt. As he began his final approach,
tensing his body in preparation for the kick, Snape straightened suddenly and
turned to face the incoming student. Ron took the only option left open to him
and abandoned the attempt, instead choosing to sprint directly past the puzzled
Professor and launching himself into the cold waters of the Black Lake.
“Weasley!” Snape snapped. “What are you doing, idiot boy?”
“Just… fancied a dip, Sir…” Ron stammered as he returned to
shore.
Snape glared at the bedraggled student before him, who stood
uncomfortably, not just because of the look being sent his way, but also
because of how soggy his underwear had become.
“Get out of my sight, Weasley.” Snape sneered, dismissing
him before muttering “dunderhead” under his breath.
Ron visibly sagged and trudged back up to the castle, past Harry and Hermione, who were rolling around with laughter, popcorn forgotten, only to be accosted by Filch as he made his way across the entrance hall, and assigned detention for ‘befouling the castle’.
-----
Ron tried twice more to achieve his goal, but each time, for one reason or another, circumstances conspired to rob him of the opportunity at the last second. Harry and Hermione had taken to trailing after him, popcorn in hand, whenever he got a look of resolve in his eyes and had been amused to see Ron’s attempt to backtrack whenever Snape caught sight of him. Snape himself had become highly suspicious of the Fifth-Year Gryffindor and became more and more wound up by his mere presence.
With two days to go before the end of term, Ron was
desperate and out of ideas. The next opportunity he had, he was going to go for
it and, once again, that now-familiar glint of determination appeared in his
eyes. Hermione nudged Harry and pointed out Ron’s expression and they knew the
game was afoot once more.
Ron was nervous and distracted throughout the final Potions
lesson of their fifth year and Professor Snape became more and more irate as
the lesson went on, even snapping at several Slytherins (though not going as
far as to deduct house points). Finally, the lesson had reached its conclusion
and, as the rest of the students filed out of the room, Ron stooped to slowly pick
up his bag, while Harry and Hermione hung back to observe.
Snape turned his back and began to inventory what remained
of his ingredient stores. As he bent down to look at the bottom shelf, Ron
sprang into action. He nodded at Harry, then moved as quickly and as quietly as
he could into position behind Snape. He looked like he was pondering something
as he studied the greasy-haired dungeon bat in front of him, then his
expression cleared. He shrugged and looked at Harry once more before swinging
his leg and kicking Severus Snape firmly in the right buttock, jolting him into
an upright stance with surprise.
Snape spun around, shock on his face as he stared at Ron.
“Sir?” Ron asked. “Are you OK?”
Snape just looked at him in silent disbelief.
“Sir - you’re scaring me.” Ron didn’t have to fake the
nervousness in his voice. “I’ll go get Madam Pomphrey.” With that, he dashed
for the door, closely followed by Harry and Hermione.
Once they were safely several floors away, Ron slumped
against the nearest wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. He
looked up at Harry and Hermione, who both appeared to be caught somewhere
between horror and the need for pants-wetting laughter.
“Ron! What the hell was that!” Harry exclaimed.
“I panicked, alright?” Ron replied miserably. “I ran out of
time for the bet and just… went with it.”
“You really gave it some welly,” Harry said, unable to hold
back his amusement any longer. “He’ll be feeling that for the next couple of
days at least.”
Ron shrugged. “I thought if I was going to do it, I might as
well go for it…”
“WEASLEY!” Snape’s voice boomed down the corridor and the
trio looked round to see the furious figure of their teacher bearing down on
them. Snape almost skidded to a halt in
front of them. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE PLAYING AT? I’LL SEE YOU IN DETENTION
FOR THE ENTIRE OF NEXT YEAR YOU LITTLE…”
Ron gathered his Gryffindor side and got back to his feet.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” he stuttered. “I don’t know what it is I’ve done…?”
“WHAT IT IS YOU’VE DONE?!” If possible, Snape’s voice,
already loud enough to draw a crowd, had kicked up another few decibels. “YOU
KICKED ME UP THE ARSE, BOY.”
Ron’s terror was plain to see, but he’d started down this
path and couldn’t give up now. “Sir, I’m sorry but – let’s be honest, I’m
terrified of you. Is it really likely that I kicked you in the arse… Sir?”
Snape’s jaw snapped shut with a click as he thought about
what Weasley had just said. He was sure it
had happened, but there was an undeniable truth: nearly all the students
(except those in his own house) were petrified of him. Would Weasley of all people be the one to
break out of that fear and take action, however imbecilic?
“Yes – well,” said Snape, self-doubt clear on his face. “I
suppose not…” Snape drew himself up to his full height and regained his
composure. “Get out of my sight – all of you.”
Harry had hastily wiped his face free from expression the
moment Snape had appeared, but now eagerly grabbed Hermione’s hand once more,
before catching hold of Ron’s shoulder and shepherding him through the crowd of
onlookers and back to Gryffindor Tower.
“Bloody hell.” Whispered Ron as he slumped into a chair once
they’d reached the safety of the common room. “I thought I was done for.”
“I can’t believe he bought it.” Said Hermione in wonder as Harry regaled the rest of their house with the story of Ron’s narrow escape.
-----
Harry approached the Hogwarts Express the following day with
a satisfied smile on his face. During dinner the previous night, Snape had been
shifting uncomfortably in his chair and glaring suspiciously at Ron, who had
decided to forego dessert and head up to bed early, leaving Harry and Hermione
on their own.
“You know, Hermione,” Harry began, “I’ve really enjoyed the
last few weeks. I’m going to miss our popcorn breaks.”
“Me too, Harry,” Hermione replied, smiling.
Harry looked at the bushy-haired girl sitting next to him
and decided to go for it. “There are, of course, places in the Muggle world
where we could share some popcorn…” he said as nonchalantly as he could manage.
“Like the Cinema…”
“Harry? Are you asking me out on a date?”
Without warning, the nerves kicked in and butterflies
started dancing in Harry’s stomach. “Ermm… yes? I mean, only if you want to…”
Hermione stood and placed a gentle kiss on Harry’s cheek.
“I’d love to,” she whispered before leaving the Great Hall, glancing back only
once she had reached the door to see her friend looking back at her with a
dazed expression and blushing, his hand touching the place where her lips had
fallen only moments before.
Harry's thoughts returned to the present as he felt a small
hand slip into his. He looked up into the sparkling brown eyes of his…
girlfriend? He wasn’t sure what they were, but he was more than happy to spend
the time to find out.
Harry gave her a small peck on the cheek and lifted her
trunk onto the train before returning to the platform for his own. He
straightened up and looked around at the multitude of school children boarding
the train, with a frown on his face. “Has anyone seen Ron?”
“There he is,” said Neville, pointing at Ron, who was sprinting down the path to the station. “Why is he running?”
-----
Severus Snape was not happy. Usually, he’d be able to take
it out on one of the brats – preferably an insufferable Gryffindor – but as it
was the last day of term, it wasn’t possible. His right buttock had bruised so
badly he’d been forced to go and see Madam Pomphrey for some bruise remover and
he was now stalking his way to the Headmaster’s office. He climbed the stairs,
irritated by the situation but satisfied he would receive answers soon.
“Good morning, Severus. Is there something I can help you
with?” Albus Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled at him over the frames of his
spectacles.
“Yes, Headmaster. I was hoping I could make use of your
pensieve?”
“Certainly.”
-----
Ron Weasley was casually sauntering down to the train station, flush with the success of getting away with his actions the previous day, when he heard a voice, booming from the castle, encouraging him to leave the grounds as rapidly as possible.
“WEASLEY!”
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