Author's Note: The story I've been planning for over a year has finally actually come into existence (at least the first chapter). I hope you enjoy this fic half as much as I've had writing and planning it.
The grey and cream-coloured owl woke Hermione Granger from her sleep with a hoot, and the witch stirred almost lazily, opening an eye to an envelope in her face. She sat up with an excited squeal, recognising the loopy handwriting of Headmaster Dumbledore. She took the letter and ripped it open in the same way she did test results, half-excitement and half-nerves.
Dear Miss Granger,
After some discussion, I have decided to acquiesce to your request to allow Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley spend some time at your home this summer. I feel that it might be quite helpful for the the three of you to spend some time together away from the magical world. Professor McGonagall will visit this week to place a few more protective charms on your home, and Mr. Weasley will drop the boys off this Friday.
Wishing you a very happy remainder of your holidays,
Albus Dumbledore
Hermione let out a happy trill and swept from her bed in her striped nightshirt to get breakfast and set her plans in motion. There were lists to make and things to do, but for once she would get to have her friends over to her house. She had never had friends over before, never really had friends before Harry and Ron. She wanted to rescue Harry from his horrid aunt and uncle and spend the summer with her friends, where Molly wouldn't be trying to worry over all of them, especially after Harry had lost Sirius. Just thinking about that night made her chest tight, but she ignored it. The battle was over and they had time before Death Eaters were storming the gates after their latest defeat...or so she hoped.
Friday didn't dawn bright and clear like Hermione would have hoped, but it wasn't raining or cold, which was as much as one could really hope for in an early English summer. Her parents were in their flat above their practise for the workweek; leaving her on her own, just the way she liked it. She loved her parents, of course, but they had both been busy and independent people and nurtured the same thing in their daughter, helped along by their discomfort with the magical world. Now, however, Hermione was waiting for her friends. The house was immaculate, spare rooms were aired and ready, and the Gryffindor was nearly bouncing in the parlour in front of the fireplace, looking between it and the windows, unsure of how Mr. Weasley and her boys would arrive.
Just as she was about to look at the mantel clock for what felt like the hundredth time, green flames erupted in the fireplace and it was all Hermione could do not to clap her hands in glee as Mr. Weasley appeared, dragging soot all over the cream-coloured carpet. "Hello, Mr. Weasley!" She chirped instead.
"Hullo, Hermione!" Arthur replied, as Harry all but fell out of the fireplace with a gasp, pulling his school things behind him. "Where are your parents?"
"Hi Harry!" Hermione said happily, helping him pull his chest out of the way of the fireplace, just in time for Ron to follow through the green flames. "Don't worry, Mr. Weasley, my parents are at their dental practise for the day, that's all." She didn't mention that during the week they rarely came home, choosing to stay at their flat instead of coming home and commuting during the week.
"Hey Hermione," Harry replied, with what she could instantly tell was a forced smile. His green eyes were shuttered and she knew that he was still blaming himself for the Department of Mysteries and grieving for Sirius. Impulsively she gave him a smile and reached out to squeeze his hand.
The moment passed and she turned to smile at Ron. "Hi Ron!" She grinned at him. "Come on, let me show you to your rooms and we can relax."
"Hey Mione." Ron replied, grinning back at her in a way that made her heart beat faster. She shook her head just slightly.
"Where do you want me to float these two's things, Hermione?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"Oh, right this way Mr. Weasley, the boys' bedrooms are on the second floor." Hermione led her guests up the stairs of the townhouse to the second floor. "Here we are." She said excitedly, opening doors on either side of the second floor bathroom. "I set up these rooms for you, and even hung hooks for Pigwidgeon and Hedwig's cages so they'll get plenty of sunlight."
"Wow, Hermione, this is really great." Ron said, as he followed Arthur into the first guest room. "Thanks!"
"Yeah, Hermione!" Harry called, from where he was hanging Hedwig's cage two rooms down. "Your house is great!"
This was going to be the best summer ever.
This was as bad as the summer when she had been sent away with Lavinia and Miranda to a mountain lodge while her parents got to stay home and work. It had started out well enough, but Ron was getting more and more sullen.
"Thanks Suresh." Hermione said with a cheerful smile as she took the sack of delivery from the boy, peeling off a few extra notes for him, when he had shown up with ginger beers as well as the curries she had ordered for her and the boys. "How'd you know my parents weren't home?"
The delivery boy gave her a wink. "You only ever order phall when your parents aren't home. Just looking at anything stronger than madras gives your father heartburn." He grinned perfect white teeth at her. "I figured a fizzy drink when they weren't home couldn't hurt."
Hermione gave him a grin. "Clever, Suresh. See you next time."
Suresh took the notes easily. "I'm always around if you have a taste for something exotic." He replied. "Bye Hermione."
Hermione closed the door and turned around to find Ron glaring at her. "What?" She asked, annoyed. Ron had taken to an annoying trend of glaring at her for no reason, refusing to look her in the eye or sulking. She was beginning to feel like it was the Triwizard Tournament all over again and she was Harry. "Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing." Ron grumbled.
Hermione shook her head in confusion at the redhead, and handed him the pack of ginger beer. "Come on, let's go eat dinner. Poor Harry's probably wondering what happened to us. Ron grumbled something Hermione couldn't hear in reply, although she thought she might have heard 'bloody wanker,' but ignored it. Harry and Ron weren't fighting again, so she was probably wrong anyway.
At least Harry was acting normal, Hermione reflected as they gathered around the kitchen table eating dinner. "I was thinking maybe we could call Dean and go to a football match this weekend." She said, thoughtfully, as she took a bite of naan. "I know you two must miss quidditch, and since my parents will be home they'll be enforcing healthy food and activity anyway."
Ron looked at her suspiciously. "You hate quidditch."
"I'm not a fan of football either, but I thought you two would like it better than following me around the British Museum or shopping." Hermione replied, smiling at him. "I do want this summer to be fun for you."
Harry grinned slightly. "That's really nice of you, Hermione. I never got to go to a football match, except when the Dursleys were trying to make Dudley more of an athlete, and even then it was just to school teams."
"Will it be fun for you too?" Ron asked.
Hermione shrugged slightly. "Anything is more fun with friends."
Football might be more fun with friends, but not with Harry, Ron and Dean.
Hermione had prepared for a day of pointless talk of sport she didn't really understand or care to understand, but she wanted to spend time with her friends, and she did enjoy quidditch enough to appreciate the camaraderie of a shared team. The day hadn't started badly. Sure, Hermione had wanted to march to The Burrow and incendio all of Ron's 'Martin Miggs' comic books, but that was becoming a normal part of her day. (How Ron stayed her friend when he took all that bigoted tripe as truth flabbergasted her. She would've expected some of the things that came out of his mouth to come from a Slytherin!) The trip on the Tube had been easier than the first time they took it, and it had seemed, for awhile, that everything was okay.
Until she had gotten up, gone to the loo, and then to the concessions stand, bringing back everyone pork pies and tea. She could only take so much discussion on why there was only one ball and how football strategy might be useful back at school. Laden with snacks, she handed them out to the Gryffindor boys.
"Cheers, Hermione." Dean said over a chant a he raised his cup of tea.
"Here Ron." Hermione said, handing him the last pie with a smile.
Ron didn't look up from where he was staring fixedly at the football pitch. "I'm not hungry." He said, voice rough.
Hermione was instantly concerned. "You're not hungry?" She repeated, pie in her hand forgotten. She had never thought she'd ever hear those words pass Ron Weasley's lips. He was always hungry. She had watched him create mountains on his plates at meals for years. "Are you feeling all right, Ron? You only had two pieces of bacon and some eggs at breakfast, and now you don't want a pie…"
"I'm fine!" Ron insisted, the tips of ears going red.
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, concerned. "We can head back to the house if you want."
"I said I'm fine!" Ron shouted, just a bit, and waved his arms. Hermione could see what was about to happen a split second before it did, but not soon enough to stop it, and soon her blouse was covered in an unappetizing combination of grease, tea and pork pie. She let out a sound of dismay. "I'm sorry I was concerned, Ronald!" She snapped, stomping off in the direction of the loos. Why did she even bother. Why did she even care? Why had she decided this summer would be a good idea?
Hermione muttered mutinously under her breath as she tossed her stained shirt into the washer, angry that her attempt to be kind had backfired for no reason that she could understand. It was as if Ron was a different person than he had been for the past five years.
"Hermione?" Harry's voice disturbed her from her list of epithets, which had just reached 'mouth-breathing frog spawn.'
"Not you, Harry." Hermione said, quite quickly. "I just don't know what's wrong with Ron. I'm worried about him, are we sure no one put him under the Imperius?"
Harry grinned at that, even though the subject was serious. "It's Ron all right. He's just jealous, Hermione."
"Jealous of what?" Hermione asked in disbelief, utterly lost. "I was giving you and Dean the same thing."
Harry shook his head at the fact that someone so clever could miss what was so obvious to even him. "Hermione, you have a lot more money than Ron, and every time you buy us something, or take us somewhere, he wonders how you could have possibly been happy visiting the Burrow." He sighed
"That's ridiculous." Hermione grumbled. "I'd rather be at the Burrow with people, than be here, all alone all summer." She looked away. "I get lonely here, with my parents gone all week."
"You always have your books." Harry reminded her, with a grin.
"True." Hermione said quietly. "I just...wanted a summer with my friends in this world, away from You-Know-Who and Death Eaters and prophecies."
"I know." Harry said honestly. "But maybe we should go back."
Hermione frowned. "Maybe." She admitted. "But as little as their here, this may be my last summer with my parents. I have to stay."
"I understand." Harry said, with a sigh. "I'll talk to Ron, we'll probably leave tomorrow."
Hermione turned and gave Harry a hug. "You know you're like a brother to me, don't you? I don't want you and Ron to leave."
"I know, but Ron…"
"I know." Hermione said with a sigh. "I know."
The Monday night after the boys had left, Hermione found herself curled up in the parlour under an afghan, rereading The Odyssey as a summer storm raged outside. As Telemachus set out on his journey, she was broken from the epic by a knock at her door.
Wand in sleeve, just in case, she opened the door carefully, stopping in shock at the sight in front of her. "Malfoy?" She gasped.
"Hermione," Draco Malfoy groaned, rain diluting what could only be blood on his face and running off the black of his clothes.
Hermione found herself staring at the boy who had made a lot of her schooling hell, bloody and pale, and somehow at her door in muggle London and using her first name. "What happened to you?"
"The Dark Lord." Draco answered. "I wouldn't...the Mark." He groaned, and without anything else to say, slumped against the wall and went unconscious.
Unsure what to think, Hermione grabbed him before he fell to the ground, and taking the unconscious weight, she dare not think dead, and pulled him into the parlour. She didn't know what to think, but it went against everything against she believed. No matter why, he had come to her, and she would make sure he would get better, no matter what.