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    Author's Note: Hello everyone! This story originally started out as a songfic to the song The Final Frontier (the theme song to the sitcom Mad About You), but expanded into a two-chapter story (the second chapter is rather long), and this is Part One! Enjoy!

    Mad About You

    Part I’un

    Tell me why
    I love you like I do…

    Most people thought of her as a common, bossy, know-it-all. Hermione Granger was the common, bossy, know-it-all of Gryffindor House. She wasn’t known as beautiful, or sweet-tempered, just bossy and overachieving Hermione Granger. But Ron Weasley was not most people, and for that reason he thought of Hermione Granger as more than a common, bossy, know-it-all. He thought of her as his common, bossy, know-it-all.

    She had incredibly bushy hair that spent most of its time down, surrounding her head like a halo. But whenever it wasn’t down—and this was a very uncommon thing, mind you—it was poised in a neat braid, or curled into a loose bun on her head and eventually little wisps of hair would escape from said braid or bun, and those wisps would hover annoyingly around her temples. Ron had always had the strongest urge to take one of those wisps and curl it around his finger before neatly putting it back in its place.

    Her eyes were a deep brown and were more expressive than anyone, except for Ron, cared to notice. They flashed when she was angry, sparkled when she laughed, twinkled when she was plotting something mischievous, darkened when she was worried, and stayed unnervingly impassive otherwise.

    Those were two things Ron really noticed about Hermione. They were her trademark qualities, two of the more prominent features in Hermione Granger’s personal space. This doesn’t mean to say that he did not notice her smooth, pale complexion, or her full lips, or her ears, or her nose, or the occasional blemish that popped upon her chin every now and again. Nope, he had memorized Hermione’s appearance right from her hair straight down to her toes, and sometimes, at night, she haunted his dreams by playing the roll of leading lady in several of his…more adult fantasies.

    “You have adult dreams about me?” Hermione teased, grinning at the redhead next to her, as they sat up against the tree overlooking the lake.

    “They’re not adult dreams,” Ron defended himself, mentally cursing Harry for bringing up the subject an hour earlier at dinner. “They’re just dreams I have about us—you and I—as we indulge in rather interesting events.”

    “Indulge in rather interesting events?” Hermione repeated amusedly as she laid her head on his shoulder. “Perhaps you could explain to me what these interesting events include?”

    “Bloody hell, Hermione,” cursed Ron, his voice not unkind, “I can’t give you an anatomy lesson.”

    “I know that, Ron.” She looked out onto the lake. “But you could give me an idea of what might happen between us.”

    Ron looked down at her. “Why?”

    Hermione blushed and bit on her bottom lip. “Well…I mean, if you tell me what you expect, perhaps I can…read up on it…”

    “Wait,” said Ron, shifting into a more comfortable position, “you want to read up on sex because you know that I’m already having dirty dreams about us?”

    Hermione frowned at him. “Well, when you say it in that context, Ron, it doesn’t sound the way I meant for it to sound.”

    “Okay,” Ron drew out, “how did you mean for it to sound?”

    “Well…” said Hermione pensively, “how about a girlfriend just trying to make her boyfriend happy by wanting to know all there is to know about being intimate?”

    Ron grinned. “’Mione, you don’t have to do that for me. You’re not ready and—“

    “I know, but I want to,” she whispered gently, though her face betrayed her, and Ron could tell that she was very apprehensive.

    “It’s a big step, ‘Mione,” he sighed as he draped an arm around her. “I don’t even think I’m ready for it yet. And I certainly won’t do anything you’re not ready for, you know that right?”

    Hermione nodded.

    “And just think what Madam Pince might think if the Head Girl checked out a naughty book?” Ron gave Hermione a look of mock astonishment, and Hermione, in turn, just rolled her eyes.

    “What am I going to do about you, Ronald Weasley?” Hermione shook her head.

    Ron grinned smugly. “I might have a few ideas—OW! ‘Mione…that hurt!”

    “Good…” Hermione declared, as Ron rubbed the spot she had just used as a punching bag. “We should get going. It’s getting dark, and you still have homework to do.”

    “No I don’t.”

    “Yes, Ron, you do.”

    “No, Hermione, I don’t.”



    She started to get up, but Ron grabbed her arm and pulled her into his lap.

    “Ron…stop…we really should be going…” She writhed in his arms, but he kept a tight hold on her. After a few moments of struggling, Hermione abruptly stopped and heaved a great sigh before pointedly throwing her arms up at the sky. “Look! The sun’s going down!”


    “That means it’s time to go!”

    “No, my dear, it does not.” Ron grinned at her. “I thought girls liked a little romance at sunset in the arms of the one they love.”

    “Not when there’s work to be done, Ronald.” Hermione pursed her lips. “Ron…honestly…I really should be getting back to my room. I’ve got that Arithmancy chart to finish before Tuesday and—“

    “You’re right.”

    “—and I promised Ginny I’d—wait—what did you say?” Hermione blinked at Ron.

    “I said you’re right…you should be getting back to your room. I’ll go with you.”

    Hermione rolled her eyes, as Ron tried (and failed) to hold back a laugh. “You’re incorrigible.” She pried his hands from around her waist and managed to maneuver herself out of his lap. “Come on…we’re going back into the castle.”

    Ron gave a slight frown as he watched Hermione kneel down to gather her things. This was the first time they had been together alone in a little over a month, and all she could think about was finishing an Arithmancy chart! Needless to say, it irked him a bit.

    “You’re acting like my mother,” he muttered bitterly under his breath. He did not mean for that comment to reach anyone but himself, and yet, it did, and Hermione made that apparent by the brisk way she pursed her lips and the harsh way she quickly whipped around without so much as a goodbye.

    “Oi…Hermione!” Ron called after her. He cursed his own stupidity as he picked up his bag, and then jogged to catch up with her. “’Mione…come on…I was only joking—“

    “Only joking!” she repeated shrilly. “Only joking! Well, than, my dear, enlighten me: if you were joking, than why am I not laughing?”

    Ron gulped nervously, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the process. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks to look up at him, hands on her hips, with an air of superiority surrounding her like a force field.

    “Go ahead!”

    “Well…I—er…bloody hell, Hermione—“

    “And will you stop swearing!” she snapped. “I do not find it at all attractive!”

    “You don’t find my swearing attractive?” Ron spat disbelievingly. “You don’t find my swearing attractive? What about you and your bloody study habits? We can never have a moment alone because you’re too busy worrying about the ruddy N.E.W.T.s that are, mind you, five fucking months away!”

    “STOP SWEARING!” she shouted, pointed an accusing finger at him. “And I can’t help it if I care about my future, Ron. It’s just something that comes along with being Head Girl.”

    “Oh bloody hell!”

    “—STOP IT!—“

    “All I hear from you now is ‘Oh Ron, I’m sorry I can’t go to Hogsmeade this weekend because I’ve got to study!’ or ‘Oh Ron, I’m sorry I can’t meet you on the Astronomy tower tonight, but I’ve got to meet with Harry about Prefects’ duties’,’ or ‘I’m sorry, love, but our anniversary is just going to have to wait until next year…I’ve got a meeting with McGonagall!’”

    Tell me who
    Can stop my heart as much as you…

    Ron looked at Hermione, his blue eyes filled with a fiery passion, and his heart beating from the adrenaline of their argument. She was the only one who could get him all riled up like this, the only one who could get under his skin.

    Hermione stared up at her boyfriend, and her eyes flashed with anger and…pain. Ron’s heart constricted with the knowledge that he had struck a nerve—a rather sensitive nerve at that. Hermione’s head abruptly shot down, and she twittered with her hands. “All right, Ron. If that’s really how you feel…” She swallowed nervously before merely shaking her bushy head and stalking off without another word.

    Ron let out a string of curse words as he watched her walk away before running a hand through his shaggy hair. It was true—he was tactless and incorrigible and a horrible person for saying all those things. He was just so bloody angry. He was so madly in love with Hermione Granger that it hurt whenever he couldn’t spend time with her, and it hurt his heart whenever she had something “better” to do than to spend time with him.

    The thing was, it just seemed like she always had something better to do. If it wasn’t fulfilling her duties as Head Girl, it was studying or writing constant letters to her parents. It never stopped. There were even some days she wouldn’t eat, and she wouldn’t allow Ron to make her eat, so she’d end up weak and still expect to get everything done with little to no help.

    The girl was insufferable. But he loved her anyway.

    “What’d you do this time?” Harry greeted Ron rather accusingly when the latter walked into the sixth year boys’ dormitory.

    “I didn’t do anything,” Ron defended. “I can’t help it if Hermione can’t take the truth.”

    “Must you really throw it back in her face?”

    “Why do you care?” Ron rounded on him. “I thought you were on my side.”

    “I’m not on your side, and I’m not on Hermione’s side,” Harry told him.

    “Than whose side are you on?”

    “I’m on my side,” said Harry, “and my side hates seeing you two mope around Gryffindor Tower like two corpses, so my side is trying to get you to feel so guilty about your row with Hermione so that you two will get over this bump in the road to Happiness and go back to snogging each other senseless in the Room of Requirement.”

    “We don’t do that anymore,” Ron stated dully. “Hermione says that just because she’s Head Girl it does not give her the authority to sneak around.”

    “Oh.” Harry frowned. “Well…”

    “Exactly,” said Ron as he tiredly pulled off his shirt. “The girl’s obsessed. She’s got no life at all—not even with me! Even when I try to do something nice—like today for example—she’s always got to cut it short because something more important comes up. I’m her bloody boyfriend! Can’t I be as important as her Ancient Runes book?”


    “—and why do I try so hard, anyway? I know I’ll just fall right on my arse. She’s so bloody aggravating, Harry…”

    “Have you talked to Hermione about this?”

    Ron blinked. “What do you think our argument was about?”

    Harry shrugged. “How should know? All I know is that Hermione came into the common room with tears in her eyes, spluttering about you not knowing what you were talking about.”

    “Well…that’s not what happened,” Ron scoffed. “At all.”

    Ronald Weasley…you stupid git!”

    Harry and Ron both jumped in alarm, as Ginny Weasley marched into the seventh year boys’ dormitory, her brown eyes cold, her jaw set, and made a beeline for her brother. “You are an idiot!” she yelled at him. “What in the bloody hell is wrong with you? Your girlfriend is in her dormitory crying her eyes out because you don’t think she’s good enough!”

    “WHAT?” shouted Ron disbelievingly. “I never said that rubbish!”

    “Well, Hermione said that you did!”

    “Maybe she misinterpreted my words!”

    “Maybe she didn’t!”

    “Gin,” Harry interjected cautiously, “perhaps you should listen to him.”

    Ginny rounded on Harry. “You’re on his side, are you? Do you have any idea what this prat said to Hermione?”

    “I didn’t say she wasn't good enough!”

    “In a matter of words you did!”

    “All I did was tell her that she works a little too hard!”

    “She works too hard and won’t play with you, you mean!”

    “Ginny!” Harry got up from his seat on his bed and moved in between them. “That’s enough.”

    Ginny faltered and looked at Harry. “But, Harry, he—“

    “Let it go, love.”

    “No—he hurt my best friend.”

    “He’s also your brother,” Harry pointed out. “Did you ask Hermione what she did to hurt him?”

    Ginny opened her mouth, and then closed it quickly. “No,” she said finally. “I just assumed…”

    “Yeah,” Ron growled suddenly, “and your assumption was wrong. Yeah, okay, maybe I overreacted a little—“

    Ginny raised her eyebrows.

    “—okay, a lot, but I did it for good reason. She’s been ignoring me. She’s canceled dates and avoided being alone with me. What was I supposed to do?”

    “You could have talked to her about it,” Ginny suggested. “You know, like a rational adult rather than a blubbering teenager.”

    “Gin, I am a blubbering teenager,” Ron pointed out, “and I couldn’t see any other way I could have told her. She wouldn’t have listened to me otherwise.”

    “Where on earth did you get that idea?”

    Ron, Ginny, and Harry all whipped around to find a certain sniffling, puffy-eyed Head Girl in the doorway. Ron stared at her, surprised.

    “What are you doing here?” he blurted out stupidly.

    “I—uh—wanted to know if you…er…”

    “Yeah,” he said, catching her drift. He quickly laced up his trainers, ignoring the odd looks from Harry and Ginny, and grabbed her hand before leading her down the staircase and out of Gryffindor Tower.

    Let’s take each other’s hand
    As we jump into the Final Frontier…

    For a long while they walked along the Hogwarts grounds, hand in hand, not speaking. Ron was collecting his thoughts, trying to come up with something to say—a heartfelt apology—but every time he opened his mouth to speak, his throat became dry and all that came out was a strained, straggled type of cough.

    “Do you need some water or something?” Hermione questioned worriedly after Ron coughed for the fifth time.

    “No…I’m good, thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Just nervous.”

    “Me too,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

    They reached a bench, and Ron motioned for Hermione to sit down before he did.

    “What made you do it?” Hermione said suddenly, looking out at the horizon.

    “Do what?”

    “Tell me I remind you of your mother,” she stated. “Do I remind you of your mother?”

    Ron chuckled in spite of himself. “Sometimes.”

    Hermione sniffed. “Was today one of those times?”

    Ron nodded, and then turned his head to look at her. “It was more than that, ‘Mione. I just—you were nagging me—“

    “I do not nag!”

    “—and I didn’t think before saying anything.” Ron heaved a great sigh. “I’m really sorry, ‘Mione, honest. I reckon I was pretty harsh on you, and I know how much stress you’ve been under lately, with being Head Girl and all.” He paused to recollect himself. “I just want you to know that you’re not alone. I’ll help you—I want to help you. Do you understand that?”

    Hermione looked down at her hands, and Ron caught a shadow of a single tear fall from her eye. “I know…I’ve been awful, haven’t I? I’m a horrible girlfriend!”

    “Oh, no, no, no, no, no…” Ron shook his head vigorously as more and more tears started to pour from Hermione’s eyes. “’Mione…no…”

    “Yes I am!” she wailed. “I remind you of your mother, I nag you, I don’t spend enough alone time with you—oh! I am awful!”

    Ron wrapped his arms around her, and she sobbed into his neck. “You’re not awful, ‘Mione,” he reassured her as he stroked her back. “You’re the reason I’m doing so well in my classes. You’re the reason I get up in the morning. I love you.”

    “But I don’t spend time with you,” she sobbed. “You don’t deserve that. You deserve so much better than me.”

    “Nobody’s better than you…”

    “No!” She shook her head and wiggled from his grasp. “No…Ron…no…I don’t deserve you. You need someone who will be there for you always and will care if you do well at Quidditch practice—“

    “I don’t want that!”

    “Yes you do,” Hermione argued. “Everybody does.” She shook her head and stared at him, her eyes sparkling with tears. “We’re too different, Ron. Too different. We can’t keep doing this.”


    “No.” Hermione carefully slipped off the promise ring Ron had given her a year earlier and forced it into Ron’s palm. Tearfully, she looked up at him and croaked out, “I love you.”


    “I’m so sorry!”

    She got up, now sobbing, and ran away.

    I’m mad about you.

    I'm already done with the next chapter and it should be up once I go through it for errors and such. Thanks for reading!

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