"Hermione, can't you just give it a rest for an hour or two?" Ron all but whined, staring at the piles of books and notes that towered precariously on the table.
"Whatever for?" she reciprocated, pausing from her steadfast scribbling to give him an absent glance. She waved her wand to restore a few snuffed out candles and promptly resumed flipping through her Arithmancy textbook.
"Well, to relax! It is the Easter holidays after all."
"What, and be unprepared for the N.E.W.T.s like you are? No, thanks."
Ron gave one last attempt to lull her away from the columns of precise numbers, "Could you come over to my room when you're done, at least? For me?"
Her tone softened considerably when she looked up to stare into the bright blue eyes, a surge of fondness causing her lips to tilt in a resigned smile. "Alright, Ron, for you."
Already an inkling of regret was teasing the edges of her conscience for having chosen to live at 12 Grimmauld Place, where it was infinitely chaotic and noisy, rather than the comfortable quietness of her parents' place. But it was instantly dashed when the redhead rewarded her with a beatific smile of his own and a hurried peck on the cheek. She stared at the opposite wall for a while after Ron had clambered up the stairs, lost in a whirlwind of confusing thoughts, before abruptly returning to her notes, a steady blush blossoming on her cheeks while she inwardly cursed herself for the precious few seconds wasted. There was plenty of time for her to be nostalgic about the blossoming of her and Ron's relationship after the N.E.W.T.s……
"Anyone home?" Hermione nearly jumped at the merry shriek, but immediately leapt forward to catch her falling inkpot a second before it would have hit the ground. A desolate sigh left her lips once again when a distinctive figure bustled into the kitchen. She looked at the clock that hung above the door – she'd been left alone for half an hour, at least, and that was saying something.
"Hello, Tonks." She said wearily.
"Hey 'Mione," the Auror mumbled through a mouthful of cookie crumbs. "You'd best clear that up, lots more people on the way." She flicked her wand at the various parchment and books littered across the table's surface and they all scrambled into a neat pile that floated out of the room and up the staircase.
"Oh?" Hermione's woes at having her notes flicked away so carelessly were immediately forgotten as she pulled up a chair to face Tonks. Not much of the Order had bothered coming to Grimmauld Place over Easter, summer being the preferred period for the house to turn overcrowded and cramped. So far, only the Weasleys, Harry, herself and occasionally Shacklebolt and Tonks resided in the house Sirius had left for them.
Sirius......a great wave of sorrow welled in her at the thought of the dark, handsome man who, despite the allegations of murder tacked onto his name, had a heart of gold beneath the quick tempers and changing moods. No one could deny the unmistakable love he'd held for Harry as a godson. And poor Harry, to recognise a father figure for once in his life only to have him snatched away so quickly….
"…. Snape, too. But Minerva and Dumbledore'll probably be arriving tomorrow."
Hermione started slightly when she finally realised that Tonks had been listing off the number of people who would be arriving tonight, but it was their headmaster's name that had pulled her from her reverie. Dumbledore was visiting? The wizard had found little time to hold meetings during the summer, much less in the Easter holidays, certainly the nature of the conference now would be one of extreme importance? Maybe even… a thrill shot through her, although she squashed it down irritably. It would do her no good to raise her hopes, only to have them crash down again. But maybe, just maybe, they had found a way to break the Deatheaters' ranks, to weaken the Dark Lord… Voldemort. She repeated the name firmly inside her head.
Before she could say anything in reply, though, Molly Weasley swept in, looking quite flustered as she plopped a brown grocery bag on the countertop. "Out of the way, now! The kitchen's out of limits till dinner. Merlin's beard, expecting me to cook up a feast for twenty in such short notice, what do they think I am?" The last comment was muttered under her breath, although Hermione couldn't help hearing it anyway. She followed Tonks out of the room and ascended the stairs, heedful of the curtained painting of Mrs. Black, which, to everyone's irritation, had still not been removed.
The rest of the afternoon was spent studying in the room that she and Ginny shared, over protests from the boys. Only when the twins were sent up to drag her down did she realise that she had been holed up with her books for a good five hours, not that she had much complaints against that. She actually felt quite pleased when she looked at her carefully plotted schedule; she was up to par if not ahead of her second revisions.
A chorus of greetings reached her ears when she stepped into the crowded kitchen. It was a whole different picture from the serene workplace she had left only hours ago. "Hermione! What a pleasure it is to see you again, since I haven't for quite a while, you've certainly grown!"
She turned to face the speaker, who turned out to be a widely grinning Ronald Weasley.
"Oh, you!" she chastised lightly while Shacklebolt conjured up a chair for her at the already overpopulated table. The conversations were flowing, and the atmosphere was light, a rarity for an occasion such as this, where they would normally be tense with anticipation. Hermione surveyed the faces as she sat, recognising all but a few : the whole Weasley family except for Percy, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Shacklebolt, Hastia Jones, Mundungus Fletcher, two or three she wasn't familiar with and… Professor Snape, who was glowering quite unpleasantly at them all.
"You had a good afternoon, I reckon?" Harry inquired flippantly, sawing carelessly through a piece of lamb.
"Yeah, had fun with your books and all that?" Ron joined in, lips still stretched into an impish grin.
"It's not a laughing matter," she said prudently, although a smile couldn't help teasing the corners of her lips. "The N.E.W.T.s could determine whether you'll work in the Ministry or end up in Azkaban."
"I don't see the difference." Tonks quipped. Those who were listening chuckled.
"Where's Lupin?" Harry asked, looking around curiously before settling his gaze on Arthur Weasley.
"Oh, er… well, Lupin's… he's – "
"Do stop stuttering Arthur," Mad-Eye growled. "The man will be here in a day or two, Potter, rest assured."
Hermione couldn't help noticing that they hadn't exactly answered Harry's question but decided to let it pass and sat back amicably, letting the comfortable lull of conversations wash over her.
The food was, as usual, absolutely delicious, which was what one would expect from Mrs. Weasley's cooking. She had consumed two platefuls and had to force herself not to scoop another…before long there would be another inch or two strapped to her waistline if she wasn't careful. The boys, however, had no such worries. It took five or more helpings to satisfy the rowdy bunch.
"I'd best be off now," said a prim-looking witch with severe features, whose name had momentarily escaped Hermione's memory for the moment. "Thank you for the delightful dinner, Molly. I'll be coming by at around one tomorrow."
There were murmurs of assent, and a select few stood to leave, each edging around the table to give Molly their thanks before Apparating out with distinct 'pop's.
A brief moment of silence greeted their departure before it was broken by an exasperated sigh from Tonks. "Fine, I'll do the dishes, you lazy sods." The twins and Ginny leapt up to leave the room at that, and Hermione followed a moment later, fully intending to squeeze in a chapter of the goblins' revolution before bed.
She didn't count on tripping over a wrinkled part of the carpet in front of an audience of ten.
"Oh, bollocks," she swore under her breath. The crowd burst into laughter after a startled silence. Great, here she was, all tangled up in some dusty old rug, and there they were being thoroughly entertained about it.
Well, at leastsomeone has manners, she thought huffily when a hand edged into her vision. She grasped it firmly and tugged herself up. Surprising, really, that Ron's turned into such a gentleman. I'd have expected him to be sitting on his arse and laughing his head off.
She was startled when instead of merrily twinkling blue eyes, a pair of beetle black ones met hers. Professor Snape! She could feel a familiar flush spreading from her neck to her face as she immediately released her grip and whirled to glare at Ron, who was, indeed, sitting on his arse and laughing his head off.
"Along with minding your mouth, Miss Granger, you'd do well to regain proper control over your limbs lest they'd be amputated, or something equally unfortunate that would render your ability to probe about others' lives useless."
How she longed to snap back, to tell him he wasn't all that better with his greasy hair, sallow complexion and nasty demeanour, that she at least was liked by most and not feared and hated. But she wasn't known as reliable, know-it-all Granger for nothing – she managed to leave with most of her dignity intact and an icy stare aimed at Harry and Ron, both of whom had only sat there minding their own businesses, Gryffindor courage be damned to hell and back again.
But she couldn't banish at the little thrill that sparked from the surly man's touch, and the image of his dark, intense gaze kept rising in her mind, surely it wasn't… she hurriedly put a halt on that train of thought. She was tired and mightily irritated, that was all. And she had Ron after all.
Right?