The Grangers owned a pet budgerigar called Stanley. He'd been living in their house for three years, an impulse buy on Mr Granger's behalf. When Ron came to stay with Hermione during the summer before their sixth year, he instantly became fascinated by this cute yellow feather puff Mr. Granger was extremely fond of.
Stanley was smaller than Errol and Pigwidgeon and much better behaved. Every day Ron would commute to the backyard from his room and greet the pet bird with much enthusiasm, a ritual Hermione and Mr. Granger found strange. But then again, it was Mr. Granger who insisted on taking the blasted bird everywhere, to dinner parties and formal meetings, much to his wife's chagrin. Hermione thought it was odd, as she had never seen this side of Ron before. He was always worried about what others thought of him. His dress robes dilemma in fourth year's Yule Ball was indicative of that. Talking to a bird every morning threatened to take that sense of pride away from him. Of course, Ron always made sure that nobody could catch him in the act.
"That Ron chap is quite strange," Mr. Granger said to his daughter. He made sure he was out of Ron's hearing range. "He's a nice boy, but quite strange."
They both stole a glance at Ron, who continued to tap the gilded cage playfully. Father and daughter tried with all their might to stifle their uncontrollable laughter.
Despite the balmy summer's air they had experienced the day before, the next brought many periods of tumultuous rain, soaking through the grass and bringing a slight chill to the air. When Ron and Hermione sat in the living room that dreary afternoon, Hermione made a casual comment about how they were safe and dry inside. On the other hand, poor Stanley was probably shivering in the cold outside. "Which reminds me," Hermione added as she turned to Ron, "why is it that you make the effort to greet the bird every morning? What is it that you find so fascinating about Stanley?"
Ron's face suddenly became slack. He shot her a contemptous look from the corner of his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about," he finally stammered.
"Don't be ridiculous," said Hermione abruptly. "I see you every morning. You always go to his cage and talk to him."
"I do not!" exclaimed Ron vehemently.
"You do."
"Your eyes are playing tricks on you," said Ron. It was clear that he was trying to hide his embarrassment. His ears turned a nice shade of scarlet as he clamped his hands over them.
After a while, Hermione sighed and then changed the subject, "Maybe I should bring him in for the night," she said. "My dad loves that bird - he basically treats him like a human."
"Why don't you just cast a warming charm on him?" Ron suggested.
"Don't be silly," Hermione scoffed. The way in which she raised her eyebrows reminded him of her bossy manner back in first year. "You know just as well that you're not allowed to practice magic outside of school," she continued. "Ronald, you should know that by now. We've been going to Hogwarts for almost four years!"
"It was just a suggestion," Ron grumbled, more to himself rather than to Hermione. The rest of his words were muttered under his breath and were indistinguishable to her.
Mrs. Granger, having just returned home from a day's work at the surgery, scrambled frantically into the living room in search for something. What it was, Hermione didn't know. Having just come out of the shower, she shivered as she ploughed through the room, peering into every corner and every crook and nanny. She then groaned audibly and threw her hands up in the air in utter frustration. "I can't seem to find my hair dryer! Have you seen it, dear?"
"No," Hermione replied. "Have you checked in your room?"
"I have," Mrs Granger replied. "It's not there. I can't seem to find it anywhere!" She ran a hand through her newly washed hair, waiting to be dried.
Ron turned to Hermione after Mrs Granger had left. "What's a hairdryer?" he inquired. He had this look of anticipation on his face, suggesting that he was almost as Muggle-crazy as his father was.
"It's an electrical appliance," Hermione replied. Even after years of being a witch, she still found it odd how she still had to explain 'Muggle' things to her peers. "Instead of a drying charm of some sort, Muggles use hairdryers to ... well, dry their hair."
"It runs on ecklecticity?"
"It runs on electricity, yes."
"Does it only dry hair?"
"Uh ... well, it can dry other things too," said Hermione. "All you have to do is just point the hair dryer at something and a blast of hot air is being emitted from the nozzle. It takes longer than performing a simple drying charm but it does the same job."
"Oh, so it's just like using an ecklectical massager as a vibrator. That does the same job too, right?"
In response to this, Hermione's eyebrows flew to her hairline in utter shock. Talk about 'misuse' of Muggle artefacts! She turned to Ron with her mouth agape, and all Ron did was nod his head slowly. "My dad brought one of those things home once and ... well, you don't want to know the rest of the story ..."
"You're right, I don't," said Hermione. She tried with all her might to banish lewd images that had just crept into her brain.
"Anyway," Ron continued. "I think I remember Dad bringing a hairdryer home once. You know how he is with Muggle stuff."
Later that night, Mr. Granger cornered Hermione just as the family and Ron were clearing the table after dinner. "Are you sure Ron's all right?" he whispered into Hermione's ear.
"Why?" Hermione asked.
"Well, it's just that this afternoon he was asking me endless questions about the hairdryer and how to work one."
Hermione was surprised by this interesting revelation. She had spent the majority of the afternoon explaining to Ron the basic concept behind the hairdryer. "He could have asked me," she said.
"You were busy reading," Mr. Granger told her. "He didn't want to disturb you."
Hermione felt slightly guilty for neglecting to entertain her guest in favour for her favourite hobby, but she shrugged it off when her father continued to talk. "He was asking me all these questions, and then he finally asked me to show him how to work one." Mr. Granger chuckled slightly to himself as he and Hermione took the dirty dishes to the kitchen.
"And did you show him how to use it?" Hermione asked.
"Well yes," Mr. Granger replied, "after he found it in the kitchen of course." Hermione's mind traced back to her mother's fruitless attempt at finding the hairdryer.
When the household was finally asleep that night, Hermione was woken by a sudden crash of thunder, which rattled the window panes and shook the whole house. In addition to that, Hermione was puzzled to hear somebody awake and in the living room, making noise. Making a lot of noise. A lot of noise for somebody who was supposed to be asleep.
What on earth was her father doing?
Quietly, she tip-toed out of her room and descended the staircase. As she approached the living room, Hermione suddenly realised that all that noise was being made by ... a hairdryer? How could anybody be using electricity during the storm? It was highly dangerous. Curious, she reached the bottom of the stairs in one brief landing and flicked on the switch.
When the light illuminated the room, a peculiar scene was being played out in front of her. Stanley was now inside, on his perch in his gilded cage. Ron was in front of Stanley. In his hand was Mrs Granger's hairdryer, plugged into an electrical socket. Judging by the noise it was making, a blast of warm air was being projected out of the nozzle and was aimed directly at Stanley.
Hermione suddenly placed all the pieces together. Ron simply wanted to dry Stanley and keep him warm. Hermione was astounded that his affection (or denied affection) for the bird would extend to looking out for his well-being. He was battier than her father. She didn't know whether to laugh raucously or remain quiet. Instead, her jaw hit the ground in shock. She glanced at Stanley, whose feathers now stood up on all ends. He now resembled a yellow puffball more than anything.
Sensing her presence in the room, Ron turned to Hermione. Bewilderment spread across his face. However, seconds later he grinned. "Since we're not allowed to use magic outside of school," he said smugly, "how else is this bird going to stay dry?"
Inspired by an actual event.