How to Inadvertently Make Hermione Granger Get Down on Her Knees

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Twoshot. German version available on my profile.

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How to Inadvertently Make Hermione Granger Get Down on Her Knees

The very first time, she had her cheeky mouth to thank for.

It all started when she opened the Daily Prophet at breakfast and her eyes promptly fell on a photo of his smug face.

"Oh no," she grumbled quietly to herself. "That goddamned bastard."

"Who are you talking about?" asked Ron with his mouth full from across the table.

Hermione winced and closed her eyes briefly. It was mornings like these that she wished she was finally living alone. They hadn't been a couple for two years now (and were happy with it) and yet Ron still hadn't moved out. She couldn't even blame him, after all, she was the one who didn't have the heart to tell him it was time. It was her bloody helper syndrome. His insistent pleas and persistent whining because he didn't want to move in with Harry and Ginny or back to the Burrow (let alone live all alone) were responsible for the fact that they were still sharing a small (too small) flat in Diagon Alley. A nerve-wracking state of affairs.

"Malfoy," Hermione muttered, tossing the newspaper onto the table so Ron could take a look at the article beneath the portrait of the nuisance in question.

Ron looked up from the sports section she had given him earlier and skimmed the headline.

"He won a prize?" he enquired, puzzled.

"He was awarded a prize," Hermione corrected him. "And not just any prize, but my prize. The one for the most outstanding healing breakthrough of the year."

"If he was awarded the prize," Ron began slowly, thinking hard, "then it's obviously not your prize, it's his prize."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose to stop herself from going for his throat. Yes, they were still best friends, despite their failed relationship, but when it came to riling her up to the hilt, you could always rely on Ron.

She took what she hoped was a calming sip of her coffee. All it did was burn the roof of her mouth.

"What did he invent?" Ron asked distractedly, having long since turned his attention back to his Quidditch articles.

"He was researching something," Hermione corrected him once more, this time rather indignantly. "The psychological effects of different types of curse-breaking for healing purposes after contact with dark magic. He's published a treatise that's more or less a guideline on how best to treat curse damage without re-traumatizing the patient. The wizard's equivalent of a perfect narcosis, so to speak."

Ron's face told her that he'd only understood half of what she'd said.

"Well, that's pretty good for us Aurors, I'd say," he mused. "What is it again that you're working on? Still that memory restoration thing, right? Have you had a, er, breakthrough yet?"

Hermione pressed her lips together. She had managed to give her parents back their memories after the war, but the subject was still dear to her. There were more problems with the Obliviate than one would think, which was why she had decided after her exams to research the spell and find ways and means to fully restore the memories of those affected even after improper use or a very long period of time. So far, unfortunately, with moderate success.

"Some subjects respond better to my potions than others," she said with a challenging look.

Ron was oblivious to the warning in it.