Ron lay sprawled on his bed, the product of dozens of bottles of butter beer and thinking of his move for the game of owl chess. Checkmate – five moves. That'd be fourth person he'd beaten in a week. He wrote Harry quite a few letters, but received an owl asking him to stop. His letters were being intercepted by the Dursleys, of course, who read them, lied to Harry about the content, and then chucked them into the fire. This left Ron to owl chess and butter beer.
Hermione? Ron wrote her a letter, a very polite, politically and grammatically correct letter. Pig surprisingly delivered the letter to the correct address, unfortunately Hermione was away, in Bulgaria. Of course her parents responded to Ron, but thought it weird to write a letter of response to a letter they've never read, so they read it. Ron, being totally humiliated, blamed his owl Pig and held an owl treat dangling above his cage for 10 minutes before letting it fall inside. He was angry, but Ron's not the type to be cruel. After that incident Ron chose to wait for Hermione to write to him.
"Ron!" yelled a voice.
"Ron!" yelled another, identical, voice. The owner reached out to Ron, grabbing him by the shoulder and shook him violently as if waking him up would save the world.
Slowly Ron opened an eye, the other was face down on a pillow along with the left half of his face. The sight he saw with his eyes made him want to fall into a coma. There, standing to his side, was none other than the twins, his brothers of torment. The last thing he needed was for them to use him as a guinea pig for their new invention.
"It's," Ron paused to look to his clock. "It's seven in the morning. Could you come back tomorrow, I really don't feel like eating a salamander sandwich." Ron closed his eye and tuned over, pulling the blanket over his head. He could hear Fred whisper to George "Write that down: Salamander Sandwiches."
"Ron, we weren't going to feed you salamander sandwiches, or anything else either. In fact we're going to steal your salamander sandwich idea," said George sitting at the foot of Ron's bed.
"But that's not the reason we came over," Fred said. He took Ron's blanket and chucked it to the other side of the room, leaving Ron exposed. "We thought you'd like to come with us to visit Charlie."
"But Charlie is way over in Romania, and I'm certain that mum didn't say anything about going on a trip," Ron said as he positioned himself into a sitting position.
"Ah, that's the thing – she didn't. We're going to go by ourselves. Fred and I have already gotten our Apparating licenses," George said pulling his I.D. in tandem with Fred. Looking closer to their I.D.'s Ron saw that each had a mischievous looks on their faces and stole glances at each other.
"Well, are up for it?" asked Fred, smiling his best toward his youngest brother. Ron only nodded and then lay back into his bed. Not that he didn't want to see Charlie again, it's just that he wish that he didn't have to travel there.
"We'll be leaving in thirty minutes. That should be enough time for you to get ready. Pack heavy, we're going to stay there until two weeks before the start of school." And with that said the twins left their little brother, who wasn't so little anymore, alone to get ready for the journey.
"Well, I'm ready. Let's get going. But I just remembered something, you can't apparate me with you."
"We already thought of that. We got you a Port key," Fred said handing his youngest brother the porno magazine. "Now don't go peaking in there, it's only for heterosexual males." Ron punched his brother in the shoulder and rolled up the magazine.
"Well, we'll meet you there," said Fred as he waved his brother good-bye. George gave Ron a wink before they both seemingly blinked out existence.
"Well, I guess I could take a little peak," Ron said. He only began to unroll the magazine when he felt his body being pulled forward by his navel. Around him green walls kept flashing past him.
Ron landed surprisingly on his feet. Though where he had landed, he neither knew nor really cared. He walked around the room with it's baby blue walls, and magnificent chandelier. In the center of the room were a long table with bravura table coverings and the cleanest dishes he has ever seen since the Welcoming Feast Hogwarts had to welcome the Durmstrang and Beubaton group. Moving to the next room he saw two people sitting on the couch, the female leaned her head on the male's shoulder as they watched the movie in silence.
Ron calmly walked up to them and asked "Is this Romania?"
"AHH – !" the lady shrieked making Ron drop his things to cover his ears. The man who sat beside her rose up and placed himself in front of her.
"Who are you? What do you want? Take anything, just don't hurt us," called the man to Ron.
"I don't want anything, and I wouldn't dream of hurting you. My name is Ron, and I don't know why I'm here. I'm supposed to be with my brothers in Romania.
The couple exchanged their look of terror to a look of incredulity.
"Ron. Ron Weasley?" asked the man who had his blonde hair combed over to the left. He had thin, round glasses on his face which made him seem much younger than Ron might have thought him to be. The woman looked similar, with glasses on her face as well, but had brown colored hair and was familiarly bushy.
"Yes," Ron said in a questioning manner. Who were these people, and why did they know his name? Were these friends of Charlie's or of Voldemort? Maybe not the latter.
"Whew. What a relief, we're the Grangers. This is my wife Kathleen Kelly Granger." His wife smiled and shook Ron's hand, which shook by itself. These people of course were Hermione's parent's. Muggles. Of course he didn't hate Muggles, but had had very little contact with them aside from Hermione. "And I'm Joe Fox Granger. Nice to meet you Ron."
Ron took Mr. Granger's hand, who surprisingly had a very strong grip. "It's nice to meet the both of you, but why am I here?"
"Well, I was hoping you could tell us."
"I don't know, I guess I'll be heading home." Ron started toward the door, but stopped in mid step. Slowly he turned back toward the two Muggles who were his best friend's parents.
"Do either of you know how to get to my house from here?" asked Ron practically shaking from head to toe.
"I'm sorry we don't but we could help you if you tell us your address," said Mrs. Granger happily. Ron shook his head slowly and offered an apologetic shrug. Ron looked horrified, he didn't know his address, the Muggle postman never delivered mail to his house and there was no need to remember it when visiting relatives because they always had floo powder.
"Well we'll just call your parents," said Mr. Granger picking up the receiver. "What's your number?" Ron gave another shake of his head and another apologetic shrug. The Grangers just smiled and then returned to their movie. "Well you'll just have to stay here for a while. If you're hungry you can have some cake in the fridge."
But Ron didn't want any cake, at least not at the moment. All he wanted was to get back home, away from his best friend's house, and in his own. Is that too much to ask?
Ron looked around frantically. Fred and George couldn't have done this to him, even this was too cruel for them, isn't it? He walked over slowly and touched his fingers to the cool baby blue wall, it was real. He pinched himself on the hand and yelped when he instantly felt the pain run through him. Finally accepting what has happened to him Ron opened the refrigerator and found a large chocolate cake on the middle shelf all alone beside dozens of vegetables and other healthy foods that Ron expected from the Grangers. But that thought crossed Ron's mind again, weren't Hermione's parents dentists?
"Er… Mr. Granger?" called Ron from the refrigerator holding a very large portion of the piece of cake. He was answered with an "Hmmm." "In what profession are you and your wife?"
"We're dentists," called Mrs. Granger who craned her neck to look at Ron, all the while smiling; her teeth in perfectly straight order and brilliantly shining. Just like Hermione's is now. "Why, are your teeth bothering you? We could take a look if you want."
"No, thank you sir. I was just wondering about the cake. Was there some sort of celebration?" Ron asked sitting in front of the Grangers, making sure that he was not obstructing their view.
"We celebrated our wedding anniversary a few days ago," said Mrs. Granger snuggling closer to Mr. Granger. "We thought that a cake would be fine this year."
"Right," said Ron lackadaisically. "Do you er know when um Hermione will be coming back?"
Mr. Granger looked over at his wife with a small smile on his face. "No, I'm afraid that we don't Ron. But you're welcome to stay here till it's time to go back to school, seeing as you're all packed for a stay."
"Er… thanks, but I wouldn't want to intrude or anything…" Ron said glaring at his cake.
"No, you wouldn't be intruding at all.. We'd love to have you here. We can talk about your adventures at school. Hermione has talked a great deal about you –"
"Really?" Ron asked jumping from his position, and nearly spilling his cake, to look at the Grangers.
"And Harry too." Ron pouted his lips and nodded solemnly and turned back to the TV. and his cake.
"Don't worry son, you'll get your chance. Your brothers aren't as cruel as you think," whispered Mrs. Granger.
"Sorry," Ron said craning his neck, meeting eye to eye with Mr. Granger.
"Nothing. Great movie." Mr. Granger smiled at Ron, who turned to the movie for the last time before it finished and he went to bed in the guest room adjacent to Mr. and Mrs. Granger's room which is adjacent to Hermione's. He lay on his bed thinking of what that duck footed, git of a Quidditch jockey was doing to Hermione before sleep engulfed his body and dreamt a boy's dream.