Ron Weasley reclined on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The summer breeze ruffled the curtains of his window and he breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of the warm grass outside. Turning his head, he caught sight of the spare cot set up for Harry's impending arrival and he grinned, thinking of all the activities they would enjoy together when he came to stay.
Thoughts of future activities, however, did nothing to alleviate his current state of boredom. Oh sure, there were things he could be doing, such as homework or getting a start on the list of chores his mother had so courteously left by his breakfast plate, but none of those things conformed to his idea of fun at the moment. Groaning, he stretched his long arms above his head and sat up, idly scratching his belly.
Deciding he was hungry, which seemed to be his normal condition lately, he left his room, intent on making himself a sandwich of the excellent leftover ham they'd had for dinner last night. He paused outside the door to his room, noting the unusual quiet in the Burrow. Normally the wireless was on as his mother worked in the kitchen, but this afternoon there was nothing. Shrugging, he headed down the stairs, intent on his sandwich.
He spied Ginny's open door and took a quick peek in, surprised to see only Hermione at his sister's small desk. She was scratching away at a piece of parchment, looking very intense and Ron almost rubbed his hands together in glee. One of his favorite activities this summer before his sixth year at Hogwarts was bothering Hermione and he tried to never miss an opportunity.
Stepping into the room, he threw himself on his sister's bed and heaved a dramatic sigh. He cast a quick glance at his quarry and saw that she didn't seem to be bothered in the least. Hmm, this is going to take some effort, he thought, a plan forming in his mind. "Hermione, I'm bored!"
"I don't see why you would be, you certainly have enough to keep you occupied." Her calm voice floated over to him above the unceasing scratching of her quill.
"Yeah, but those things aren't fun," he sighed. "I need to be entertained." He lifted his head from the pillow and looked at her again. She hadn't moved at all and he studied the thick, brown hair that his fingers had been itching to touch for quite some time now. "Where's Mum and Ginny?"
"Your mother and sister are out shopping for groceries. In a couple of days you won't be the only walking stomach in this house, you know." She continued to write and Ron couldn't help but admire her ability to maintain a conversation and scribble at the same time. "If you had stirred yourself earlier, you could have gone with them."
"Nah. They'd just make me carry stuff, yeah? Come on, let's do something fun."
"Fun?" Ron could actually hear the raised eyebrow and he smiled to himself. "I'm sorry, Ron, maybe you can't see the fact that I am currently engaged in completing my summer work. Have you even cracked a book yet?"
"Nope. I am honoring the tradition of allowing my brain go completely to mush over the holidays."
Hermione snorted and paused her writing to page through a textbook. "I would argue with you that since you're a prefect you need to set an example, but that didn't work last year, so I'm done wasting my breath on that one."
Stung by her words despite the ring of truth, Ron sat up on the bed, making it creak underneath his weight. "Oi! What's that about? You trying some of that reverse psycha-whatsis on me?"
"Psychology, Ron," Hermione sighed, back to scratching with her quill.
"Right, that. Are you trying to use that on me?"
"No."
Taken aback by the finality of her tone, Ron scratched his nose and crossed his long legs, resting his arms easily on his knees. He could tell he was starting to irritate her and he smiled. "What're you working on?"
"Arithmancy."
"Daft subject, that."
"Ronald..." she said in a warning tone. Ron's grin only widened.
"I mean, you chuck Divination and go in for Arithmancy? One's just like the other, Hermione."
With a growl of frustration, she dropped her quill and turned in the chair to face him at last and he quickly wiped the grin off of his face. "It is not! Arithmancy is completely different!"
"Oh yeah? You're just saying that because you're good at it and you were rubbish at Divination."
"I was rubbish? No, Ron, Divination is rubbish! I mean, who can 'see' anything with that airy-fairy Trelawney floating about? 'Open your inner eye' indeed! How can anyone expect to make sense out of a bunch of old tea leaves that just need to be tossed in the bin?" Hermione spoke forcefully, her eyes glittering and Ron's own face grew hot in response. He loved it when she got all worked up.
Hermione took a deep breath and visibly calmed herself down. "Arithmancy is so much more precise and actually has useful, real-world application. Not that I would expect you to understand that." She turned back away from him in a huff and paged furiously through her textbook and he let out a long breath. Hermione in a full strop was something to see. And be appreciated.
"Okay, okay, no need to get your knickers in a twist, yeah?" He would have to file this nugget away for later Hermione-irritating activities. Hermione didn't answer and he listened as she returned to her writing with a vengeance, Ron almost feeling sorry for the parchment she was abusing.
He let her continue in peace for a few minutes before starting again. "When you finish your work, can you help me with mine?"
"As long as you only want me to help," Hermione said, sounding like she was gritting her teeth.
"Now Hermione, would I ask you to do my schoolwork for me?" Ron attempted to sound wounded and thought he did a good job of it.
"Yes."
"Hermione Jane Granger, I am shocked that you would think such a thing of me, a fellow Hogwarts prefect!" He placed a hand on his heart and collapsed slowly backward, making the bed squeal in protest. Glancing at Hermione again, he was disappointed to see her still with her back to him, completely missing out on his excellent theatrics.
He watched her for a moment, admiring the way the thin cotton of her red tee shirt hugged her body, knowing that she really had no idea just how beautiful she really was. He knew and he knew that some other blokes at Hogwarts knew and that fact was causing him some anxiety with regards to the upcoming school year. Ron had spent part of the summer since Hermione had arrived trying to come up with a smooth, suave way of telling Hermione that he did indeed fancy her and he had so far come up empty. The best he had come up with to date was to continually get on her nerves.
"Hermione Jane Granger," he said again, drawing it out slowly, carefully pronouncing all of the syllables. "Hermione. Why can't he get it right?"
"Ron, I'm not talking about him with you again." Exasperation borne of long suffering was in her voice and he winced just a little.
"I'm just curious. I mean, it's a very simple name. Does he have a speech impediment or something?" He sat back up again and rested his chin in his hand, eyes on Hermione and waiting for her reaction. She did not disappoint.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley! If you cannot control yourself I will have to ask you to leave this room!" Hermione threw down her quill again and stood up, whirling to face him, her eyes narrowed.
"I can't control myself?" he asked mildly, raising one eyebrow at her. "It looks like I'm not the one having trouble controlling myself, yeah?"
"Oh! You!" She stamped her foot in frustration and glanced fleetingly at the door and Ron's stomach lurched. He didn't want her to take off angry at him and he held up a placating hand.
"Okay, look, I'm sorry, okay? I promise, I won't talk about him anymore. I didn't mean it."
Hermione glared at him again and gave a sniff before settling back down and returning to work. Ron lay back down on the bed and crossed one leg over his bent knee, watching his bare toes as he flexed them, making the joints pop. Satisfied, he repeated the procedure with the other foot, noting the pause in Hermione's scratching and smiling to himself. He knew this drove her up the wall, something he'd discovered quite by accident one night in the common room. She was determined not to give him satisfaction, though, and remained steadfast in her seat, continuing to work on her Arithmancy.
Ron lay quiet for a short while, enjoying the breeze coming in through Ginny's window. For some reason, she always seemed to get the best breezes coming through and when his attic room was stifling, he knew he could always come down to cool off. Right now though, cooling off wasn't his aim and he looked at Hermione again. "Hermione Jane Granger."
"That's my name."
Ron propped himself up on one elbow and grinned. He'd just thought of a way he could do some investigation without looking like a total prat. "You know, if you married Harry, you'd have the same initials."
"No I wouldn't." Hermione continued to write and Ron began to wonder just how long that damned assignment was.
"Would too. Harry James Potter. Hermione Jane Potter. See." Ron couldn't keep the slight smugness out of his voice, even though the thought of Hermione marrying Harry made his stomach hurt.
"Would not." Hermione finally put down her quill and began rolling up her essay.
"Why the bloody hell not then?"
"Language, Ron." She closed her textbook and turned in the chair to face him. "We wouldn't have the same initials because I wouldn't change my name."
"You what?" Surprise flooded through Ron. He'd never heard of such a thing. He couldn't imagine in the slightest his mother, Molly Weasley, marrying his dad and staying Molly Prewett.
Hermione looked at him curiously. "What Ron? It's hardly unheard of. Muggle women do it all the time, especially if a woman makes a name for herself professionally before marriage."
"Yeah, but, you're ... you're not a Muggle. You're a witch." Ron knew he sounded foolish, but the idea of a witch keeping her own name after marriage ... it just wasn't done!
"Oh dear. You are old-fashioned." Hermione shook her head and smiled at him.
"Old-fashioned? I'm not old-fashioned. That's just the way it's done in the wizarding world. What about your children? Won't they feel strange when they don't have the same last name as their mum?" His shoulder beginning to hurt, Ron sat up again and re-crossed his legs, popping his toes absently.
"Well, if I were to marry Harry, my children would be Granger-Potter," she said loftily.
Ron collapsed backward with a groan. "Oh God. Doesn't that just sound mega-posh?" He sat up again and made a face. "Hello, I'm Charles Philip Granger-Potter," he said in an exaggerated voice, holding out his hand in a limp-wristed way.
"Ron!" Hermione slapped his hand and he laughed, watching as Hermione tried not to laugh along with him. "I just happen to think that my name is just as important as my husband's, whomever he may be."
"You don't know yet?"
"Know what?" Hermione coolly studied the fingernails on her right hand.
Ron felt a heat rise on his face, certain he was blushing and he cursed his fair skin. "Um, you know. Who you're going to marry."
Hermione did laugh out loud this time. "Ron, I'm sixteen, of course I don't know who I'm going to marry!" She looked back down at her hand and said, "Whoever he is though, he'd better not have a problem with me keeping my name."
Ron was quiet, not quite sure what to say. She'd made a big deal of him being old-fashioned in his beliefs about how a woman should always take her husband's name, but truthfully, he'd never been exposed to any other way. Afraid of inadvertently revealing his feelings for her, he felt it safest to say nothing and allowed the silence to stretch out, looking out the window at the oak tree by the pond.
It was with great relief that he heard the return of his mum and Ginny downstairs. Knowing they were down in the kitchen served to remind him that he was still hungry and he moved to get up. "Um, I'm going to help Mum," he mumbled as he passed Hermione on the chair.
"I'll come too." Hermione followed him down the stairs and he paused before going into the kitchen.
Curiosity had gotten the better of him and he looked down at Hermione, resting a casual hand on her shoulder. "You wouldn't actually marry Harry, would you?"
She returned his look with her eyes full of mischief. "I might. If he let me keep my name. Do you think he's interested?"
"He better not be," Ron said grimly, pushing through the door to the kitchen, completely missing Hermione's smile of satisfaction.