Current mood:	whimsical
Entry tags:	fic

Fic: Drawers (Ron/Hermione, PG, ~1000 words)
Title: Drawers
Pairing: Ron/Hermione (implied Harry/Ginny)
Rating: PG
Genre: Fluff. The utterly frivolous variety.
Summary: Hermione finds something she wasn't expecting.
Length: ~1000 words
Author's Notes: Birthday fic for ladyofthesnitch. It is somewhat late, I'm afraid, but Happy Birthday nonetheless. Happy Day After Your Birthday, maybe.

“Honestly, how on earth did you manage to lose your wand? It’s like – it’s like losing your shoe, while you were still wearing it!”

Ron made a gesture that looked as if a shrug and defensive angry crossing-of-the-arms had mated and said, “It was a wedding! What was I going to use my wand for? There were all those kids running around and I didn’t want them getting hold of it!”

Hermione stared at him. Sometimes she wondered if Ron had lost his brain in some twins-related accident as a child and the staff at St. Mungo’s replaced it with one from another planet. It was only way some of his behaviour made sense. “You wanted to keep it safe so you put it somewhere you couldn’t keep an eye on it or use it to help out if the kids you were so worried about got a hold of someone else’s wand?”

“It worked, didn’t it? No-one got hexed! Well, I think Ginny hexed Gabrielle when no-one was looking, but that would have happened anyway. Now are you going to help me look or just yell at me some more?”

Hermione considered. It was a hard decision; although ‘yell at him some more’ did seem the obvious choice, helping him look did give her a chance to look through his stuff.

Not that she was the slightest bit curious as to what Ron kept in his chest of drawers or anything.

No, wait, she’d made that resolution to stop lying to herself where Ron was concerned. Okay, she was curious. Just a little.

“FineI’llhelp,” she said. Maybe just a little faster than she’d intended.

She stepped over Ron, who had one arm thrust beneath his bed and was rummaging around with an expression of great trepidation on his face, and opened the top drawer (she imagined her face would have something of trepidation about it, too; one heard stories, living in the same dormitory as Parvati and… that-other-girl-who-was-friends-with-Parvati-that-Hermione-certainly-did-not-want-to-strangle, as to what was contained within a boy’s bedside table).

Well. It wasn’t too bad. One (1) issue of Martin the Mad Muggle (issue no. 127, Martin vs. the Dread Eskalator); seven (7) pairs of boxers (Hermione valiantly clamped down on her imagination, which was gleefully attempting to conjure up an image of Ron in said undergarments); nine (9) socks, several with holes (four in the heel, two in the toe); one (1) wand (apparently a deadly ceremony-destroying weapon in the hands of children); two (2) packs of Bertie’s Every Flavour Beans (one of which was empty); an innumerable (?) number of said Beans scattered from the empty packet.

One (1) pair of woman’s pants (not Hermione’s. This was not a relief).

For a moment, she just stared at the chest of drawers, stunned. They had to be hers. He’d kept a pair. He’d obtained a pair. She’d just assumed that because Ron and Lavender had spent so much time publicly trying to establish whether it was physically possibly to get a tongue all the way down the oesophagus, they hadn’t done anything else when they weren’t in public.

She was an idiot, even if she could spell and pronounce 'oesophagus' in her head without having to look it up.

She considered for a moment sinking to the floor and clutching her stomach – that was what one did, when one felt sick and dramatic, after all.

Then she decided that what one did had no bearing on what Hermione Granger did, and instead turned with her best glare and held the offending (and how – what had he kept them for, anyway?) piece of clothing up. “What on earth do you think you’re playing at, keeping… keeping these? You’re- you’re disgusting, you’re-”

Ron waved his hands in what was either confused protest or some sort of bizarre interpretive dance of apology. Probably the former, since ‘interpretation’, ‘dance’, and ‘apology’ weren’t really words that spent very much time in sentences with ‘Ronald Weasley.’

“It’s not what you think, I swear! Hermione, I can explain!”

She paused. She’d give him, oh, five seconds. That meant she wouldn’t have to sacrifice her momentum if his explanation turned out to be ‘fairies did it’ or ‘Harry likes wearing knickers’ or some-such.

“They’re Ginny’s!”

Of course, he could break her momentum by revealing himself to be an utterly depraved pervert. “…what?!”

“I… Mum put them in with my laundry, accidentally, and I couldn’t take them back!”

“Why not?!”

“Well, I wasn’t about to wander about the house with my sister’s knickers now, was I? What if someone caught me putting them back, they’d think I was an utterly depraved pervert or something!”

Ron Weasley was the most ridiculous boy in the history of the world. All she could was laugh. Well, that or… “Ron Weasley, you are the most ridiculous boy in the history of the world.”

Then she started laughing.

And laughed harder when Ron made an aggrieved face and said, “’s’not that funny. Do you have any idea how worrying it is to have your sister’s knickers in your drawer and not have any idea how to get them back to her without looking like some sort of, of deviant?”

She was going to have to go to St Mungo’s and get herself a new set of sides, since hers were moments away from splitting completely. “If only you had some sort of tool for performing magical spells! Like this wand, conveniently placed right next to the source of your troubles!”

Well, that’s what she meant to say. It probably sounded more like uncontrollable laughter with the occasional ‘sort’ and ‘wand’ thrown in.

“I heard shouting, what’s – why is Hermione rolling on the floor laughing? With… Ginny’s knickers?”

Hermione managed to compose herself somewhat, taking note of Ron’s garbled attempt to explain everything to Harry. She decided she could take pity on the poor, ridiculous boy this once and bail him out. The hilarity would be just an added bonus.

“Harry, how did you know that these are Ginny’s?”