Possibilities
By: politelycynical
Hermione was a realist.
Or at least she thought she was. She had always had what she thought was a realistic outlook on the outdoors— it was pretty to look at, it was necessary for life to occur, and long ago people had lived in it, but that didn't mean that it was particularly essential for people to trapeze about the Georgian woods in the Appalachian foothills.
It simply wasn't something she thought she would enjoy.
So when Harry had begged her to go camping, she had been a little reluctant.
How could that be fun? There were bugs outside. It was hot as hell. Where was she supposed to use the bathroom?
In the forest?
The whole idea was horrifying.
But he had begged and pleaded. He had explained that he and Ginny were having problems, but that this trip had been planned for months, and that he just needed her to come- to be a buffer so that he and Ginny could have a good time. They needed someone there that wasn't going to ask them how the wedding planning was going, someone who could change the subject and distract the family, because honestly—it wasn't.
Proposing had been a spur of the moment decision. Harry had wanted to be romantic, to cling to the first family he had ever known. And then upon realizing that he wasn't ready and bringing up those concerns to Ginny—Well, it hadn't went well from what she had heard.
And so that's why she was there—hiking through the woods, stumbling over rocks, and cursing under her breath every time a curious insect harassed her.
She was a good friend.
She barely knew the Weasleys. She had met them before in passing, but she wasn't nearly as acquainted with them as Harry. After all, he had moved in with them in middle school after his aunt and uncle had kicked him out. But she had only been around Ron and Harry since halfway through their freshmen year.
Her calves burned as she hiked up a particularly steep hill. Years of leaves littered the ground, causing her to slip every few feet. She watched one of Ron's older brothers use tree trunks to pull himself up the slopes. His back flexed with every pull. A particularly interesting muscle beneath shoulder blade bulged. She thought maybe his name was Fred, but she couldn't be sure.
She shook her head. What had she been thinking?
Oh right—meeting Harry and Ron.
A football player named Tank had been following her everyday on her way back to her dorm. He would leer at her, but she had thought he was harmless.
She had been wrong.
One night he had gotten handsy with her near the stairwell. She had been pushing him away when they had appeared in the second floor stair access, and Harry Potter had proceeded to knock Tank across the back of the head with his lacrosse stick. They had been pals ever since.
When Harry had invited her, she thought that it was going to be with the whole family. Earlier that morning they had honked loudly outside of her apartment at 5:00 AM. She had blearily climbed into the car, situated herself beside Ginny, and had been introduced to their two older brothers. They were seniors. George's major was in chemistry, while Fred was pursuing a business degree. Or it was the other way around? She wasn't sure; it had been very early.
She could feel sweat seeping through every stitch of clothing that she had on. Why the hell did people think this was fun?
George had parked his parents' SUV in a small gravel clearing off the highway.
It had taken five minutes of walking through briar patches for her to get injured. Five fucking minutes to get deep, stinging scratches that everyone else had seemed to avoid.
It was another forty minutes to get to camp. To some arbitrary clearing that Fred had said was perfect.
"Yeah," She muttered silently. "This was worth the hike for sure. After all, the grass is green and the sky is blue." She kneeled down to examine her mangled flesh. "It's unique. A true paradise."
Ron frowned.
Harry sent her an apologetic, nervous smile.
But Fred Weasley watched her adamantly, his eyes darkening to a deep aquamarine. He raised his eyebrows up at her and scoffed. "You probably don't need our help assembling your tent then, right, Granger? Since you know so much."
"Of course I do," she replied wryly. "What co-ed doesn't know how to assemble a fucking tent?"
She snatched one of the bags off the ground and stomped towards a relatively flat patch of grass.
Tents were based off tension, she knew that much. You just nailed the little pegs in the ground and tied ropes to them, and that's what made the tent stand. It couldn't be so hard. She was smart—intuitive even.
She didn't need an athletic ginger Neanderthal to save her.
She dumped the bag out on the ground. Metal bars clanged together loudly causing birds to fly out of nearby trees in fear.
She fussed with the tarp, and tried to connect bars in what she thought was a logical way. A tent was supposed to be a triangle shape right? Why the fuck did she keep ending up with a rectangle? That couldn't be right.
She ripped it all apart and laid the pieces out by size, tilting her head from side to side as she examined the relatively unsolvable puzzle pieces before her.
"Do you want help, Hermione?" Harry asked somewhere behind her. She glanced up at him hopefully.
Fred was standing off in the distance, his tent having seemingly popped up out of nowhere in less than ten minutes. He didn't even bother to have the humility to hide his smirk.
"No." She spun back around and glared at the chaos in front of her.
She heard Harry shuffle into the forest to get firewood.
Somehow they all knew what they were doing. Maybe the Weasleys were frequent campers? She knew for sure that the Grangers had had no such desires in her youth. Not once had her father suggested camping as a possible vacation activity.
They only ever went to Florida, or Six Flags. Those were the two choices.
She finally had it standing. It was a little wobbly, sure. And also she had three extra pieces, which wasn't a good sign. Maybe tents came with extra pieces, like the way her cardigans had extra buttons sewed into the hem.
She heard bickering.
Ginny and Harry were arguing nearby. Ginny was flinging her arms around in the air as they whispered back and forth.
Hermione sighed. She needed to be better. They needed her.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
Birds chirped in the distance, a floral scent wafted in the crisp air, and the wind blew gently through the trees, catching tendrils of her hair and tickling her neck. Maybe this was why people needed the forest. It was tranquil.
She could enjoy this.
She smiled as the wind picked up. A clamor of metal interrupted her reverie.
"My…" She snapped her eyes open. "My tent." She said weakly.
Fuck the woods.
Fuck camping.
"Alright there, Granger?"
Him. Of course it was him.
She took a deep breath and counted to ten. She probably shouldn't hit him.
"You're practically an architect." He whispered into her ear. She could hear his fucking smirk.
It would be bad manners to deck him. Maybe no one would see her do it, and maybe he would be too embarrassed at being hit by a girl to make a fuss about it.
"Do you need my help, Darlin'?"
Maybe she could draw blood.
She spun around and glared at him silently.
He smiled widely at her. It was a slow grin that cut across his whole face. It was crooked. His tongue flickered forward to scrape across his canines.
"I'm sorry." He said in a way that signaled that he was anything but.
She huffed.
He laughed loudly. "You're fun." He said over his shoulder as he started sorting through the mess.
She sat down on the ground, pulled her knees near her chest, and watched him work quietly.
"This place is perfect because it's near the river, has a flat stretch of soft ground that is free of large rocks, and it has a clear view of the northern sky." He explained, pulling the tarp taut in strategic spots as he nailed the pegs expertly into the earth.
"The sky?" She said quietly, watching his arms wield the mallet like he was a Viking. On the high seas. "Did you forget your compass or something?" she joked. "I have GPS on my phone."
He snorted. "You're not too far off." He sat down in front of her, mirroring her position. "Astronomy is a hobby of mine."
"That must come in handy," she quipped.
"Just because the world doesn't use it anymore doesn't mean it's not worth knowing." He watched her carefully. "What's your major?"
"Political science." She quick-fired back at him.
"So you would have absolutely no interest in Anglo-Saxon law? Early Greek courts?" He asked, smiling.
"That's different." She reasoned.
"It's not relevant anymore, is it?" He picked up his mallet and started to rise to his feet.
"What do you use it for?"
His eyebrows furrowed, his freckles shifting and stretching as his face contorted. "The mallet? I hit the pegs with it, were you not paying attention?"
"The stars."
"They're for watching. I thought you were smart."
She smiled. "They're just lights."
"They're possibilities. Every star being orbited by countless planets in countless galaxies. How could anyone not be amazed by that?"
She opened her mouth.
He shushed her. "Don't answer that. I'll come and wake you up later tonight. You apparently need a lesson. You're lucky you're cute. I have zero patience with closed minds."
She scowled. "I am not—"
"Aw- come on. I'm joking." He chuckled.
He stood up and brushed off the back of his jeans.
"About waking me up tonight or thinking that I'm close-minded?" She called out to him.
"I have faith in you." He smiled widely at her before crossing the clearing to help George get the fire going.
Word count – 1700
A/N – So after having made Fred a cartographer in Dead or Alive, I can't imagine him not being amazed with stargazing. That's just canon for him now, okay?