Chapter Text
Ron did not speak all the way back to the Gryffindor common room.
This was unusual, because Ron normally spoke all the time, especially when he was annoyed, hungry, tired, losing at chess, winning at chess, thinking about Quidditch, or existing. But now he climbed through the portrait hole in complete silence, walked straight across the common room, and went up to the dormitory without saying a word.
Harry followed him, slightly concerned.
Ron pushed open the dormitory door, walked inside, and sat down heavily on his bed like a man who had just received very bad news from a doctor.
Harry closed the door behind them. “You alright?”
Ron did not answer immediately. He was staring at the floor with a deep frown, like he was trying to solve a very complicated problem.
Ron lay on his back staring into the darkness, thinking about something he absolutely did not want to think about.
Viktor Krum.
Viktor bloody Krum.
Hermione had kissed Viktor Krum.
Viktor Krum was an international Quidditch player.
Viktor Krum had broad shoulders.
Viktor Krum was tall.
Viktor Krum had probably kissed loads of people in multiple countries.
Ron turned over aggressively and punched his pillow.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself.
Unfortunately, his brain continued helpfully providing more information.
Viktor Krum had taken Hermione to the Yule Ball.
Viktor Krum had written Hermione letters.
Viktor Krum was probably very experienced at kissing.
Ron sat up in bed suddenly.
“How am I supposed to compete with Viktor Krum?” he whispered angrily.
From the other side of the room, Harry’s voice said, “Why are you competing with Viktor Krum?”
“He’s famous,” Ron said. “He’s tall. He’s a Quidditch star. He’s probably brilliant at kissing.”
After a long silence, Ron said, “I have zero experience.”
Harry sighed. “You’re still thinking about that?”
“Yes,” Ron said. “Because apparently everyone else has experience except me.”
“It’s not a competition,” Harry said.
“It is a competition,” Ron said darkly. “I am losing the competition.”
Harry sat on his own bed. “I don’t think there is a competition.”
“There is now,” Ron said.
He lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.
Harry picked up a book but didn’t open it. He had a feeling Ron was about to say something ridiculous.
“What if I’m terrible at it?” Ron said suddenly.
Harry closed his eyes. “At kissing.”
“Yes, at kissing,” Ron said. “Keep up.”
“You are overthinking this,” Harry said.
“I am not overthinking this,” Ron said. “This is important.”
“Why is this important?” Harry asked.
Ron hesitated, then said, “Because what if I finally kiss someone and it’s awful?”
Harry tried not to laugh. “It probably won’t be awful.”
“You don’t know that,” Ron said. “What if I bump noses? What if I breathe wrong? What if I don’t know where to put my hands? What if I panic? What if I forget how mouths work?”
“I don’t think you can forget how mouths work,” Harry said.
“You don’t know that,” Ron said again. “I panic under pressure.”
“That is true,” Harry admitted.
Ron groaned and covered his face with a pillow. “This is a disaster.”
Harry said with a loud sigh. “You do realize Hermione didn’t choose Krum because of his kissing skills.”
Ron was quiet for a moment.
“Still,” Ron said, “he’s probably better at it than me.”
“You have literally never tried,” Harry said. “You might be amazing.”
Ron considered this for about two seconds.
“I will not be amazing,” he said. “I trip over chairs when I walk normally. I am not going to be naturally talented at kissing.”
He turned onto his side and frowned into the darkness.
“I’m not losing to Viktor Krum,” Ron said firmly.
“You are not in a competition with Viktor Krum,” Harry said.
“I am in my head,” Ron said.
There was a long pause.
Then Ron said very seriously, “Do you think Krum practiced?”
Harry stared at the ceiling. “I am not having this conversation.”
“He probably did,” Ron continued. “International Quidditch players probably practice everything. Training, flying, tactics, kissing—”
“Go to sleep, Ron.”
Harry lay back on his own bed. “You’re acting like you’ve got an exam.”
Ron slowly removed the pillow from his face and stared at Harry.
“That’s it,” Ron said.
Harry immediately looked worried. “What’s it?”
“It is like an exam,” Ron said, sitting up. “You don’t just walk into an exam without studying.”
“Oh no,” Harry said quietly.
“You study first,” Ron continued. “You practice. You prepare. Then you pass the exam.”
“Ron,” Harry said, “you are not preparing for a kissing exam.”
“Yes, I am,” Ron said. “I refuse to fail this exam.”
“There is no exam,” Harry said.
“There will be,” Ron said darkly. “Eventually.”
Harry had a terrible feeling he knew exactly which exam Ron was talking about.
Ron swung his legs off the bed and started pacing the dormitory like a general planning a battle.
“This is like Quidditch training,” Ron said. “You don’t just play a match without practice. You train first.”
Harry watched him pace. “You are going to say something very stupid in a moment, aren’t you?”
“I need practice,” Ron said.
Harry covered his face with his hands. “You are going to go around Hogwarts asking girls to help you practice kissing.”
Ron stopped pacing and pointed at him. “I will be polite about it.”
“That will not make it better,” Harry said through his hands.
“I will explain that it is for educational purposes,” Ron said.
“That will make it worse,” Harry said.
Ron ignored him.
“This proves my point,” Ron said. “Practice is important. Preparation is important. I am simply preparing.”
Harry pulled the curtain shut. “You are going to get slapped by someone, and I am not helping you.”
Ron lay in bed, now fully awake and fully committed to his terrible idea.
He imagined Viktor Krum somewhere in Bulgaria, being tall and impressive and experienced
Ron got up again and went to his trunk, rummaging around until he found a piece of parchment and a quill. He sat at the desk and began writing very seriously.
Harry got up and walked over to look.
At the top of the parchment, Ron had written in large letters:
Important Plan
Underneath it he wrote:
Step 1: Learn theory
Step 2: Practice
Step 3: Become experienced
Step 4: Do not embarrass myself
Step 5: Eventually kiss Hermione and survive
Harry choked. “You wrote her name!”
Ron quickly covered the parchment with his arm. “You didn’t see that.”
“I definitely saw that,” Harry said.
“That part is confidential,” Ron said.
Harry pulled up a chair and sat down backwards on it. “You do realize this is completely mad.”
“It is not mad,” Ron said. “It is logical.”
“It is not logical to create a kissing training program,” Harry said.
Ron ignored him and started another list.
People Who Might Agree To Help Me Practice (Confidential)
He tapped the quill against his chin thoughtfully.
“Older Gryffindor girls,” Ron muttered as he wrote. “They’ll be more experienced.”
Harry stared at the ceiling. “This is unbelievable.”
“Hufflepuffs are friendly,” Ron continued, writing. “Ravenclaws will probably treat it like homework. Absolutely not Slytherins — I want to live.”
Harry started laughing despite himself.
Ron kept writing.
“Not Ginny,” Ron said. “She would actually kill me. Not Hermione — too important. Final exam.”
Harry laughed so hard he nearly fell off the chair. “You just called Hermione the final exam.”
Ron looked up. “She is.”
He froze.
Harry slowly grinned.
Ron turned red. “I did not mean — not like that — I mean — academically — metaphorically —”
“Sure,” Harry said.
Ron folded the parchment quickly and shoved it inside a book.
“This is a secret mission,” Ron said seriously.
“You are the worst secret agent in history,” Harry said.
Ron lay back on his bed again and stared at the ceiling with a determined expression.
He imagined a possible future scenario.
He imagined leaning toward Hermione.
Then he imagined accidentally knocking their teeth together. Or sneezing. Or saying something stupid. Or falling off a chair. Or breathing at the wrong time and choking.
He sat up again immediately.
“No,” Ron said. “Absolutely not. I am not going into that situation unprepared.”
Harry sighed. “I cannot believe this conversation is real.”
Ron crossed his arms and nodded to himself.
This was a serious problem.
It required a serious plan.
It required courage, careful planning, and possibly a helmet.
Ron lay back down, folded his hands behind his head, and looked very determined.
“This is going to work,” Ron said.
Harry turned off his lamp and lay down. “This is going to be a disaster.”
Ron ignored him.
He looked at the list for a moment, nodded to himself, then put the parchment back.
Yes.
This was now a matter of pride.
Ron Weasley closed his eyes with the determination of a man about to undertake a very important and extremely stupid mission.
He was going to become experienced.
Somewhere in the castle, completely unaware of the chaos that was about to enter her life, Hermione Granger was probably reading a book and being sensible.
Ron closed his eyes and nodded to himself in the darkness.
Ron Weasley had a plan.
And it was, without question, a terrible plan.