The Prefects

This is just a little summer project, for myself mostly, as I read Harry Potter again and fill in the gaps where Harry's commentary doesn't narrate what happens when Ron and Hermione are left alone. Starts from the Order of the Phoenix and will hopefully run up to and beyond the Deathly Hallows.

Hope anyone who might read this likes it! Been a while since I wrote anything that wasn't for uni.

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Ever since the summer after second year it had been tradition for Hermione Granger to spend the first half of the summer with her parents, flying out on distinctly middle class holidays in Aspen and the south of France. Which she loved. And although Hermione rarely got to see her parents except for these holidays, as soon as Mr Weasley showed up at her house with her red-headed best friend at his side Hermione knew it was time for her real summer to begin.

That was why she knew this summer would be different. On the 14th July, just two weeks after returning to her parents' large London home, Ron appeared on her doorstep with a witch not ten years older than herself. She introduced herself as Tonks, not Nymphadora, and told her that she was an Auror assigned to take her to a safe house. When Hermione asked where they were going she couldn't help but feel a twinge deep in her stomach, as the witch and Ron exchanged a look that showed they knew something she didn't.

They took the temporary floo network set up in her parents' home to a house in another part of London, from there they walked, shielded from vision under disillusionment charms, to their final destination; a large, dark house which under the fidelious charm could only been seen as Tonks read out from a sheet of paper; "The head quarters of the order of the phoenix can be found at 12 Grimmauld Place, London."

As the house came into view Hermione found herself not looking at the townhouse that was squeezing out from between two other houses, but at Ron. And the look on his face told her this was going to be a very different summer indeed.

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Yes, rather than spending the long lazy days degnoming gardens or taking trips into Ottery St Catchpole, Ron and Hermione found themselves head of the cleaning committee, along with Ginny, Fred and George. This was to make their living arrangements, well, liveable. It also distracted the teenagers from the heated meetings of this mysterious "order", which compromised of Mr and Mrs Weasley, Tonks, Lupin, Mad-eye, Snape and even Dumbledore, plus a host of other witches and wizards whom frequented the safe house.

In fact, the only wizard who seemed to be absent from this mysterious Order was their best friend, Harry Potter himself. Ron and Hermione had protested many times to the isolation of Harry at Privet Drive, even cornering Dumbledore himself one time he had visited for a meeting.

"I don't have time to discuss this today Mister Weasley, Miss Granger," The old wizard had explained, his long beard swaying as he walked quickly down the corridor.

"But I don't understand why we can't tell Harry what's going on! He must be going mad all alone with the muggles," Ron exclaimed, almost tripping in his haste to follow the headmaster. Hermione had steadied him with a hand which sent a scarlet flush to his ears.

Dumbledore responded shortly, "Privet Drive is the safest place for Harry right now."

"But why?" Hermione protested, "Surely he's safer here with all the aurors and enchantments?"

"Harry is being tailed and protected at all times by at least one wizard. And there is protection at his Aunt and Uncle's that we do not even have here."

"But-"

The teenagers' cries were lost as the heavy door slammed behind Dumbledore, unsettling a cloud of dust around Ron and Hermione's feet. An uneasy silence fell as they stared at each other, unable to form a response to their headmaster's abrupt dismissal.

The silence did not last for long, however, as Sirius' mother decided to join the debate, her screams and cries doing as much good as Ron and Hermione's protests made.

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One morning a particularly frazzled and wet haired Hermione ran the two flights of stairs between her room and Ron's, barely stopping to knock before barging into the room.

"Have you heard?" Hermione asked breathlessly, throwing herself onto the cold, empty single bed.

"I haven't heard anything except your piercing tones this morning." Ron grumbled this retort with his eyes still firmly closed, his hands gripping the quilt as if she was about to take this warmth away from him as well.

"Don't be smart Ronald," Hermione quipped haughtily, "I was in the shower and I could hear Sirius and Professor Dumbledore arguing downstairs…"

This certainly got Ron's sleepy attention. His eyelids fluttered open and saw that Hermione's curls were wet and smelling of her vanilla conditioner, the scent so strong due to the copious amounts she used to tame her frizzy locks. Not only that but her thin t-shirt was clinging slightly to her still damp frame…

He coughed and turned over in bed with a thump, trying to pay attention to what she was saying.

"I've never heard the Professor speak so angrily before! I couldn't quite hear exactly the conversation but what I got was, well, Harry's coming!"

The mention of his best friend quickly removed any thoughts of Hermione in the shower from Ron's head and he sat up in bed, exposing his embarrassingly crumpled cannons t-shirt to Hermione.

"Harry's coming, here?" He asked excitedly, imagining his best friend's things filling the second half of the slightly empty room.

"Yes!" Hermione responded with enthusiasm, but then her face fell.

Ron frowned, "What is it?"

The argument Hermione had overheard had been extremely heated, mainly with Dumbledore telling Sirius what he cannot tell Harry and what he cannot let Harry do. There had been a pattern this summer of leaving Harry out of the loop, no owls longer than a sentence of nothing had left 12 Grimauld Place that summer and now look what had happened; Harry and Dudley had been attacked by dementors and Harry was facing a ministry hearing!

"Dumbledore said Harry had been attacked by dementors-"

Ron was standing now, looking ready to storm Little Whinging himself in his half-mast plaid pyjama pants and orange t-shirt, he cried "We have to-"

"It's fine, Ron, he's okay," Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him back to his bed to continue the conversation, now sitting next to him rather than on the bed opposite. A fact they were both acutely aware of.

Ron struggled for a moment, staring at the hand that was still placed over the "CC" emblem on his shoulder, "Wh-how had this happened? What are we going to do?"

"I expect we'll find out at breakfast," she explained calmly, clasping her wayward hands now in her lap, "But I did hear something about underage magic-"

"He was being attacked! They can't expel him for that… Can they?"

For one, blissful moment Ron imagined all the alone time he would have with Hermione if Harry was expelled, how he'd step out from beneath his best-friend's shadow, finally prove himself on his own… but that was just it. Harry was his best friend and like hell was he going to be expelled for defending himself. Ron was disgusted in himself for even thinking it.

"We don't know he's being expelled." Hermione replied calmly.

"Well with the way Fudge is carrying on he'll certainly try and make sure of it!" Ron responded equally angry as Hermione was calm, "talking about him in all the newspapers like he's a liar, when we know there's a bigger threat!"

Hermione was silent for a moment, considering her next words carefully, "I think there's a big threat to us coming today."

Ron stared at her questioningly.

"Well we haven't been the best of friends to Harry this summer and now he's under all this stress-" when Ron opened his mouth to oppose her view she raised a hand, "I know we didn't have a choice but think about it from Harry's point of view. Imagine you saw something as horrific as Cedric being killed and You Know Who returning, then immediately having to go back to live with your family who hates you, having no contact from me or Harry all summer, then be attacked by dementors and prosecuted by the ministry – only to find out me and Harry had been living in a secret house somewhere, not speaking to you on purpose."

Ron, for the first time in his life, had no response to this. He sat mutely, imagining how he's feel if Hermione and Harry had been shacked up all summer without him, all the things they'd get up to if he wasn't there. It took a while before he realised he was thinking of things from Harry's point of view, but from his own jealous feelings about his two best friends.

When Ron looked up, Hermione was by the door appraising him, "Get dressed, breakfast is in ten minutes."

Hermione gave his comical sleepwear an amused once-over before exiting, trying not to dwell on how she found his bedhead more arousing than endearing as a younger her once did.

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The long table was filled with people fifteen short minutes later, Hermione sat between Fred (who was talking excitedly with George about "skiving snackboxes", whatever they were) and Ginny. At the head of the table Molly Weasley was too caught up in a heated conversation with Sirius and her husband to wonder about the whereabouts of Ron, who had not yet surfaced.

"So Harry's coming back today?" Ginny asked, her voice no longer with the childish tone when she spoke his name, but still with excitement.

Hermione looked at her enquiringly.

She rolled her eyes, "Come off it Hermione, I'd be surprised if Sirius' voice hasn't broken the muffliato charms this morning. I've not been eavesdropping on yours and Ron's conversations, I know you wouldn't want to tell the little sister anything anyway."

Hermione wanted to retort that they knew just as much as she did, but decided it wasn't worth the effort, "Oh. Yeah. I guess so, then."

Before Ginny could probe further the heavy wooden door opened with a bang and Ron wandered in, wearing jeans and a muggle t-shirt with the faded image of Homer Simpson across the front. He'd even attempted to straighten out his bedhead from earlier, something a younger Ron would have never bothered to do. Ginny raised an eyebrow as she noticed her brother had Hermione's full attention.

"Sorry am late," Ron mumbled, slumping onto the chair across from the two girls.

Hermione pursed her lips, "I told you ten minutes til breakfast, Ronald."

He rolled his eyes in the same manner as his sister, "Okay, mum."

A voice from the other side of the table called out, "what is it, Ronnie?" when Ron shrugged and flushed red, Mrs Weasley changed tact, "Oh, well, now we're all here we need to tell you all-"

"Harry's been attacked, him and his oaf of a cousin. Dementors in Little Whinging," Sirius shook his head bitterly, "but on the bright side the order will be gaining a new member!"

"He will not be joining!" Molly hissed, looking disgruntled at being interrupted.

"Let him decide that for himself," Sirius growled.

There was an unnatural quiet across the large breakfast table, obviously most people had overheard this news half an hour earlier, but seeing Molly and Sirius arguing showed there was something bigger going on under the surface.

"So anyway," Molly said brightly, "let's make sure we give him a big welcome when he arrives."

"Hear hear!" the twins chimed in unison, and Ron swore he saw a brightly coloured package being passed between them. Molly obviously saw something as well as she quickly berated on the meaning of an appropriate welcome, quickly taking the table back to it's usual morning antics.

"When do you reckon he'll get back?" Ginny whispered to Ron and Hermione, who shrugged in response. All three anticipating and panicking about the imminent return of their friend.

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Later that morning Ron and Hermione found themselves cooped back up in Ron's room, trying to figure out what would happen when Harry returned – plus avoiding that day's chores.

"D'ya really think Harry's mad with us?" Ron asked, a morbid look across his face.

Hermione stopped her pacing to stare at him, "Don't you remember that last letter? If you're not going to tell me anything then don't write me at all."

"Maybe he's just saving on parchment?" Ron quipped hopefully, but the look in his eye said he knew they were in trouble.

Before Hermione could respond however, Hedwig flew through the open window at full speed, dropping three letters onto the empty bed. She then promptly began pecking at Ron's long, freckly fingers.

"What the bloody hell-" He spluttered, batting at the large white owl as blood dripped down his hand.

"Hedwig!" Hermione scalded, concern in her eyes as she ripped open one of the letters and scanned it quickly. Harry's scrawled handwriting read:

"It's Harry," She confirmed, assisting Ron in shooing Hedwig away, "He's really not happy."

Hermione's attempts to help however only shifted the owl's attention onto her. Soon enough her hands were also covered in beak marks.

"Bloody great bird!" Ron grunted, attempting to tend to his own wounds whilst deterring Hedwig from feasting on Hermione's hands. He frowned, "Well I guess you wouldn't be. But it's not our fault!"

She sighed, "I've told you this Ronald, he doesn't know that."

Finally, the pair managed to wrestle Hedwig into Pigwidgeon's cage, whom zoomed excitedly around her new roommate. Hedwig looked less than pleased with this arrangement and not just a little bit sinister, with blood trickling down her snowy feathers.

"Ooh, they look nasty Ron," Hermione commented with a wince, as she examined the wounds covering his fingers.

Ron gulped as Hermione took his hands into hers for further examination, "Yours are just as bad," he responded in a strangely high pitched tone.

She shrugged this off, turning his hands over to see the palms, "I'm sure your mum will have some essence of dittany, it heals all wounds according to Healing at Home with Herbs."

"Can we use that on our friendship with Harry?" Ron quipped. Despite the humour in his tone it was obvious he was worried.

Hermione smiled and shook her head a little, her hands lingering slightly on the wounds dotting Ron's fingers before dropping them. She began to walk to the door, "Come on, let's go find your mother."

"No!" Ron groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. When he looked up again there was a smudge of blood on his nose, "Anything, please. She'll want us to do chores and clean-"

"What, do you want to stay hauled up in here, just us alone together for the rest of the summer?" Hermione interrupted quickly. She soon turned pink as she realised the implications of her words.

Ron didn't respond, but the bashful smile on his face as he pushed past her said; yes, please.

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Any thoughts and criticisms would be greatly appreciated.