I started this on something of a whim after recently entering a Harry Potter phase. The speed may be relatively slow, but I'm off from Uni for the summer so I do have a lot of time free for writing, so it shouldn't be too bad; it's dependant on how long this phase lasts. I just had a real desire to give Hermione a voice and this story basically just details the last four books in a series of events vital to Hermione discovering her true feelings.

I do not own Harry Potter.


Chapter 1

Hermione Granger was sat on her school trunk, restlessly tapping her foot on the living room carpet. Her parents were buzzing around her like a pair of annoying flies, pacing and listing a rather long list of things she might have forgotten in her packing for her fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hermione was confident in her planning, however, and allowed her mind to wander. She was leaving her family's home that day, and her father was driving her across the country to spend the rest of the summer at the Burrow. She was already late, and her parent's fussing was impeding the journey's start even more.

Eventually, just as her father was reading over the set textbooks and checking them off on his fingers for the third time, Hermione stood up, interrupting his flow.

"Dad, don't worry." Hermione said, snapping impatiently although she did not mean to. "I'm pretty sure I haven't forgotten anything."

Mr Granger glanced to his wife and then looked to the floor. "Are you sure you want to go to Ronald's house so early in the summer?" he asked. "We've hardly seen you, Hermione."

"Mrs Weasley's expecting me for dinner." Hermione said with a sigh, turning to her mother, seeking the more punctual parent. "I need to be going."

Mrs Granger was able to meet her daughter's eyes, but the disappointment within them filled Hermione with guilt.

Over the past few years, tensions between the two halves of Hermione's existence had been high. She was painfully aware of her parent's discomfort over the fact that she came home for the holidays talking about werewolves and potions and broomsticks and eight foot tall, half-giant gamekeepers. But no matter how hard Hermione tried to involve her parents in her schooling, the muggle world and the wizarding world were having trouble over-lapping.

"Must you leave us so soon, Hermione?" Mrs Granger asked, the regret easily noticeable in her voice. "It seems like you've only been home for a few weeks."

"I've been here for over a month." Hermione corrected. "And it's the Quidditch World Cup. I have to be there."

"I didn't think that you liked Quidditch." Mr Granger mumbled, sitting back in an armchair with a dejected sigh.

"I don't." Hermione replied, turning back to her father. "Ron asked me to go with him."

Hermione wasn't entirely sure why she had agreed to join Ron and his family to the World Cup. She knew that it would be a magnificent spectacle, but she had never been a huge fan of Ron and Harry's favourite pastime. Of course she had been to every game possible during her time at Hogwarts, but her attendance had been mostly due to concern for Harry's life. Yet when Ron had made his offer – shouting it down the telephone – she had accepted instantly; she hadn't even needed to think about her answer. Why? She had absolutely no idea.

"I don't suppose anything we say will change her mind, will it?" Mr Granger said, looking past Hermione to her mother.

Mrs Granger shook her head. "I suppose not. She's got your stubbornness."

Mr Granger got to his feet smiling. "I'll wait in the car, Hermione." He picked up Hermione's trunk and made his way out of the living room, giving his wife a comforting look.

"You have to promise to write to us. Let us know how the Quidditch goes, and we want to know when you're at school safely."

"I'll be fine, mum, I –"

Hermione was prevented from continuing. She was forced into her mother's arms, and Mrs Granger held her tightly. The embrace was brief, however. In fact, it happened so fast that Hermione didn't even have time to return it.

Mrs Granger pulled away with what might have been a muffled sob and hurried out of the living room through the door to the kitchen. Hermione stood still for a few moments, stunned. Her mother had never reacted so explicitly to her daughter leaving for Hogwarts, and it did nothing to diminish the guilt still churning in Hermione's stomach.

Picking up Crookshanks' travelling case, Hermione decided to leave her mother in peace, hoping to turn her back on the farewell. But even when she was in the car and her father had turned the radio on, Hermione could not distract herself from what she had heard; the sound of her mother's tears rang in her ears despite her attempts to listen to the droning of the DJ.

Should she have followed her mother, offering some sort of apology? Was she making the right decision leaving her parents to spend more time with her friends? The questions plagued her every mile of the journey.

Saying goodbye to her father was just as difficult but less one-sided than her parting with her mother. After a hug and a kiss, he too was gone, and Hermione was alone on the Weasley's front porch.

Arthur Weasley answered the door, and he beamed down at Hermione.

"Good to see you, Hermione." he said jovially, scooping up Hermione's trunk and Crookshanks' cage with a flick of his wand. "I'm afraid you've missed dinner. We finished almost an hour ago."

Hermione hung her head. "I'm sorry, Mr Weasley. There was bad traffic."

"Has your father left already?" Arthur looked over Hermione's head eagerly, perhaps hoping to ask her father more about the muggle world as he had the first time they had met.

"He has to get back home before it gets dark." Hermione said apologetically.

"Never mind." Arthur said, standing aside to let Hermione in the kitchen. "Ron's just through there. Oh, and watch out, he's been in a funny mood all day."

Hermione laughed. When was Ron not in a fuss over something or other?

"What's wrong with him this time?" she asked.

Mr Weasley smiled. "I wish I knew. I'll take your luggage upstairs to Ginny's room."

Hermione gave him her thanks and then walked through the kitchen and into the living room until she saw a familiar red-head lounging on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling.

After watching him lie still for a few moments, glad to finally be seeing him again, Hermione cleared her throat.

Ron jumped to his feet, and when his eyes found hers, he beamed at her. "Hermione!" he cried with a relieved sigh. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten to come."

"Don't exaggerate." Hermione scolded gently. "I'm only an hour late."

"Sorry," Ron mumbled, sitting back down, calming for only a few seconds before standing up again. "Where's your stuff?"

"Your dad said he'd take it upstairs."

"Oh," Ron said, falling back to a sitting position again. "Good."

Hermione stood awkwardly while Ron looked down to the floor, steadily turning red. Racking her brain for something to say did not provide any results. The silence lasted for long seconds. She could not remember tensions ever being this high between them.

"Should we go upstairs?" Ron asked eventually, not looking up. "To my bedroom, I mean." His blush worsened. "We don't have to go to my bedroom. We could stay here … or you could unpack in Ginny's room … whatever you want."

"I suppose I should unpack." Hermione said, but when she saw Ron's face fall, she changed direction. "But it's not urgent. Why don't we go and see Pigwidgeon?"

It was only when following Ron upstairs that Hermione tried to determine why she had been so instantly drawn to keeping Ron happy. Maybe it went hand in hand with breaking the awkwardness that had risen between them.

Ron's room could not be described as tidy. Posters, mostly wonky, covered every available wall, clothes were scattered across the floor and the bed had not been made. As soon as Hermione entered, Ron began hurrying about, piling the mess under his bed with a mumbled excuse that Hermione did not quite hear.

When a path had been carved through Ron's laundry, Hermione walked to the windowsill where Pigwidgeon was sat in his cage, picking at his feathers. The soft scent of mown grass was wafting in through the open window, and Hermione stared out at the view.

Suddenly the door was flung open and Ginny Weasley burst in, her freckled face grinning.

"Hi, Hermione!" she said brightly.

"I told you to knock!" Ron roared before Hermione could reply.

Ginny wasn't fazed by Ron's temper. "Mum wants to know if you need anything to eat?" she asked Hermione.

"Get out!" Ron snapped. "I told you not to bother us!"

Ginny laughed, and she flashed Hermione a sympathetic yet knowing smile before leaving the room.

Ron glowered at his sister through the wood of the door until he jerked his head back to Hermione.

"Do you want something to eat?" he asked.

Hermione laughed at the concern in his eyes. "I'm not hungry." she said, sitting down on Ron's bed.

Laughing as well, Ron sat next to her.

"So," Hermione said, conversation inspiration finally hitting her. "Are you excited for the World Cup?"

And just like that the tension that had lingered over them was gone. They talked easily, as if it had been only yesterday that they had last spoken. Hermione's parents were also temporarily forgotten, and, at least until the silence and darkness of bedtime, Hermione did not think about the upset she had left in her wake that afternoon.


Any comments would be appreciated as always. I'd love to know if you think this is worth continuing.