A/N: Well, this is my first songfic . . . I hope it turns out right . . . It goes with my story A Dry Mouth . . . I guess it could be considered "THE MISSING CHAPTER!" . . . but not really . . . just pretend . . . yeah . . . It's probably a little too fluffy for my writing but whatever . . . ok . . . I love this song . . . It's by Ben Folds . . . It's called "The Luckiest" . . . It's awesome . . .


Ron sat as calmly as he could in the cushiony armchair in front of the fire as Hermione gingerly sat in the chair next to his. He stared down at the open book lying in his lap and pretended he was reading. It obviously did not work very well since Hermione asked him, "What's wrong, Ron?" His stomach turned over when she mentioned his name.

"Nothing," he said still staring down at his book. "Just doing some homework." She giggled.

"You seem to want to burn a whole in your book," she said, and Ron noticed that his nose was almost touching the pages as he glared at the tiny letters. He hated homework, but it was not exactly the reason why he was glaring. "Here, I'll help you," she said taking the book from his lap and putting it in her own. Ron looked up at her puzzled. Hermione usually never liked helping him with his homework.

"Now, what is the main ingredient of a fogging potion?" she asked not even having to look for the answer.

Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Bitterroot?" Hermione shook her head.

"Have you even begun to study?" she asked, looking at him pitifully.

I don't get many things right the first time

In fact, I am told that a lot

"Not really," Ron said with somewhat of a snicker. Him . . . studying . . .

Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls

Brought me here

"Well, I suppose you have to start somewhere," Hermione said with a sigh. "Now tell me what you already know, and I'll go from there."

Ron thought for a moment. What he already knew? "Well, I know that we are studying the fogging potion . . ." he said trailing off.

"And . . . ?" Hermione asked making a gesture for him to go on.

"That's about it," Ron said, shaking his head in agreement of himself. Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead in hopelessness.

"It's going to be a long night," she said turning to the beginning of the chapter in the book. Ron grinned. She went off into a lecture about the history of the fogging potion and who discovered it and the like. Ron was not really listening though . . . he was a bit preoccupied with gazing at her. She luckily did not notice as she stared down at the book for references.

Ron thought of the first time he had seen her. She had poked her head into the compartment he had shared with Harry on the train their first year. He remembered wanting to slide the door shut on her nose.

And where was I before the day

That I first saw your lovely face?

Now I see it everyday

"Are you listening to me Ron?" He was yanked out of his trance when Hermione waved a hand in front of his face to get his attention.

"Yeah, of course I'm listening," he said straightening up in his chair and coughing a little. Hermione shook her head and laughed.

"You're hopeless, Ron," Hermione said as she finished laughing. Their eyes met, for longer than a moment, and Ron felt himself want to lean forward. He resisted however, but did not tear his eyes away. He was drinking as much as he could.

And I know

That I am

I am, I am

The luckiest

Hermione was the one that finally looked away. She quickly jerked her eyes back to the book and started to lecture once more. Ron sighed. He also felt a smile work onto his face.

What if I'd been born fifty years before you

In a house on the street where you live?

Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your bike

Would I know?

Ron let his mind wander once more. Instead of thinking about her, however, he tried to think about . . . well . . . something else. He searched his mind for something . . . anything. Quidditch, he finally decided on, and he pictured himself flying around the Quidditch Pitch, searching for any sign of the Quaffle as he guarded the three hoops. Crowds and crowds of people stood around the pitch, cheering and making as much noise as possible. He flew higher and suddenly he was playing in the World Cup. He looked around through the crown and suddenly jerked out of this daydream.

And in a wide sea of eyes

I see one pair that I recognize

He had seen her. That smile began to creep onto his face once more and he did not hold it back this time.

And I know

That I am

I am, I am

The luckiest

"Okay, so why don't you start your essay and I'll check over it when you are finished," Hermione said as she passed the book back to Ron and passed him some parchment and a quill. Ron took them both hesitantly and unwilling.

Ron did not even know where to start; he had not listened to anything Hermione had said. He just tapped the tip of the quill on the paper, over and over again. Hermione sighed.

"Why don't you starts with 'the properties of the Fogging potion are . . .,'" she said informatively, almost in her snobbish way. Ron did not mind when she turned all matter-of-factly, he just did not like when she started getting too snobby and he started yelling.

He had written down a few sentences that he remembered hearing her say at some point in her ramblings and thought they were flowing quite nicely. Well, before Hermione corrected him at least.

"No, you should put that sentence here," she said taking out her wand and removing the words he had written. She then took the quill from his hand and wrote the sentence at the end, changing the words a bit. Ron usually would have felt uncomfortable having someone leaning over him in such a way, and correcting his mistakes, but he did not care that it was she.

I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you

Hermione seemed to actually realize what she was doing and quickly game the quill back to him. She gazed into the fire that was starting to die away to faint embers. Ron found himself staring at the fire himself, wishing he were just a little bit closer to her.

Next door there's an old man who lived to his nineties

And one day passed away in his sleep

His wife, she stayed for a couple of days

And passed away

"Well, I think . . . I'm going to head up to bed," she said hesitantly, getting up from her chair and going to collect her things that she had spread out on the large table. Ron emptied his lap and got up, like a gentleman. She noticed it and looked curiously at him.

I'm sorry, I know that's a

strange way to tell you that I know

we belong

When she got to the stairs up to the girl's dormitory, she turned and bade him goodnight before retiring. Ron just stared after her and wished she had stayed longer. He gathered up his things and after just standing and gazing at the floor, decided he would withdraw also. Slinging his school bag onto his shoulder and slipping into his shoes from where he had taken them off earlier, he climbed the common room stairs to the boy's dormitory.

That I know

That I am

I am, I am

Quietly placing his bag on the trunk at the foot of his bed, Ron slipped into his pajamas in silence. Getting into his bed, he only had one thing on his mind: a beautiful brunette just on the other side of the walls.

The Luckiest


A/N: Well, there ya go . . . I hope it was alright . . . I'm not entirely sure if I like it so give me some feedback . . . ok . . . later . . .

annapooh

P.S.

QT is the lonestar of the

O-I-N-T

Droppin' octaves

Startin' shockwaves

I'm a hotter General Lee

Still searching for amor

But you're not esta qui

Let's forget the Alamo

And remember you and me!

Boyling Point (QT)