Mood Ink

by MD1016

Harry had passed annoyed a hour before and he was sliding comfortably into disgusted. How could two people who were such fierce and loyal friends be so vicious to each other?

"Sod off!" Ron yelled for the hundredth time. "And take that blasted, mangy cat with you!" Crookshanks scampered for the girls' dormitory.

"You're a child, Ron Weasley! Pathetic!"

"Better pathetic than a gormless, insufferable know it all!" They were Snape's words, twisted in classic Ron fashion, designed to hit with maximum damage.

And just as he knew they would, Hermione's eyes rounded. She threw the bottle of Mood Ink Ron had just given her as if it were a Bludger, and it hit Ron in the face. Good arm, Harry thought. The bottled shattered. Ron was covered in the ink that quickly turned bright pink.

"Fuschia's not a good look for you," Hermione quipped tartly.

"Come here!" he growled, and he took off after her.

She screamed a high-pitched, girly scream so unlike Hermione, and bolted for protection behind the Common Room's heavy couch. Ron, ever the athlete, had her in seconds. Arms wrapped tightly around her, he smeared his inky face against hers. She wriggled, and laughed - laughed – and twisted against him until Ron managed to cover her hair and shirt as well.

"Let me go!" she insisted through a giggle.

"No," he said, a deep, serious voice coming from behind his fading grin. He stared down at her chest, where his cheek had just been.

Harry's stomach clenched. Hermione's breath caught. The ink turned bright red.

Ron gazed at her mouth. "Take it back, Hermione," he said. The way he said her name sent a chill up Harry's spine.

"Never," Hermione swore, breathless.

Stalemate.

Harry held his breath as the ink turned a deep, rich crimson.