First, I want to thank TMBlue for helping me finish this chapter. Not only does she offer her impeccable writing skills to fix my grammar and typos, but also fantastic insights into Ron and Hermione's characters and encouragement to keep writing. Just in case, for some insane reason, you haven't yet, go read her stories. They're amazing! (ahem! Riches ahem!)
I'd also like to thank those of you who have favorited, followed, and especially reviewed. This story is an experiment for me, a way to challenge myself. You guys trust me with this idea, and I thank you for that! We all know the end game, but it's the happenings in between that are going to be the most fun to write and, hopefully, read.
And I promise not all A/Ns will be this long in the future! On with the story already!
Rated M for later chapters
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Chapter 2: Accommodation
The Weird Sisters' latest single blared out mid-song at the highest volume, waking Ron up from a deep sleep so suddenly that he sat up like a spring, reflexively swinging his arm toward the radio. The momentum of his awakening, and the twisting of his body caused him to fall out of bed, blankets to tangle around his legs, and his elbow to smash into the nightstand. He then rolled over on the floor to avoid the radio hitting his head when it fell to the floor. Unfortunately, it didn't break as the music was now screaming into his right ear.
Groaning and rubbing his elbow, he scrambled for his wand from underneath his pillow and tapped the radio. Silence. He dropped back down to the floor with a sigh and a forearm over his eyes, shielding them from the offensively bright sun as his heartbeat slowed to a more normal rate. Since he knew from prior experience that going back to sleep would be a waste of time, he kicked the covers off his legs and got to his feet. He picked up the radio and put it back on the nightstand, then paused to turn it off, making a mental note to turn it back on tomorrow so he wouldn't be late for work on Monday… again.
Still half asleep and irritable from the rude wake up call, Ron trudged across his bedroom, side-stepping boots and dirty socks, the clothes he had taken off the night before, a pile of pamphlets and papers, another pile of clothes, and pushed aside a partially opened box of chocolate frogs. He scratched his bare back as he entered the loo, and left the door open as he relieved himself.
As he brushed his teeth, he looked in the mirror at his reflection: a head that looked scarily similar to a ball of fire, the glaze of sleepiness in his eyes complete with crust in the corners, and toothpaste foaming out of his mouth.
"A real ladies man," he said out loud, spattering the mirror with flecks of toothpaste. Chuckling and shaking his head, he rinsed out his mouth and splashed water on his face.
Barely clothed in only his underwear, Ron made his way back through the messy room and into the kitchen, which was right through his bedroom door. He set about making coffee, feeling like he needed something stronger than tea today. He took out a pan and cracked three eggs into it, scrambling them together until they resembled something edible. He'd go out onto the balcony, but it was getting cooler as winter approached and he didn't feel like getting dressed. So he ate at the counter, sipping his coffee and staring out the large window over the sink, admiring the view that sold him the flat eight months ago. He lived on the tenth story, so he had the advantage of looking out over the tops of trees and buildings, with massive hills in the far distance and the sky so big and close up. Being able to see such a wide expanse of the world humbled him- made him feel like he was part of something bigger than the bubble of family, friends, and work.
Feeling more awake with food and coffee in his belly, Ron flicked his wand to get the dishes washing, then turned around and walked the few steps to his living room. In the remaining space of his small flat there was a long plush sofa that served as a bed when he was too lazy or pissed to walk the extra steps to his bedroom; a desk littered with parchment, quills and a lamp; a few paintings on the walls; and a work bench with a set of weights that only just fit into the corner of the room, but it was enough for him to get a good work out, which is what he did that morning.
As an Auror under Harry's regime he was expected to maintain his strength, flexibility and stamina. Harry said their job was more than just wandwork- they needed to be agile and quick, and able to throw a punch just as much as stunning someone. Ron and Harry often went to a muggle gym to avoid people gawking at them, but he preferred to do the bulk of his sweating and grunting at home.
After a half hour of working up a good sweat, and with his muscles burning, he wiped his brow and made the short walk back to the loo. There he shaved his face clean of stubble, and then took a long shower. Nothing felt better to Ron than getting under a pounding stream of hot water after working out. He'd stand there, stretching his back and rolling his neck, and sigh through the relief before washing himself and scrubbing his hair. He thought about having a wank that morning, but decided against it and instead got out, wrapped a towel around his waist, and managed to placate his hair.
He took a moment to study himself in the mirror again, flexing his arms and puffing out his chest, checking his teeth and wiggling his eyebrows… He was relieved to have finally grown out of that lanky boyish phase, but didn't think he was anywhere close to being as fit as his older brothers. He shrugged, deciding that he at least looked slightly less tragic than he did earlier. Then he sighed and rolled his eyes, feeling embarrassed even though he was alone.
Vacating the loo and his overly freckled reflection, he stood in front of the closet, looking for something to wear. He took the damp towel off from around his waist and tossed it behind him on the bed, then pulled on clean underwear and socks.
He remembered he was supposed to go to Harry and Ginny's house and meet this Hermione person. He wasn't looking forward to it, thinking back to last night and Ginny's reaction to him merely suggesting caution. He still didn't understand why this girl couldn't find somewhere else to live, or what her intentions were, but he was determined to find out.
He had just grabbed a black jumper and a pair of jeans from the closet when a loud knock sounded from his front door. He dressed quickly as he tripped his way through the room, his arm just pulling through the jumper when he opened the door.
"Hey… you're awake," Harry said, looking confused as he took in Ron's attire and obviously clean and awake appearance. Then he grinned. "Alarm again?"
"You guessed it," Ron replied as Harry came in, and then closed the door. "What are you doing here? I'm supposed to go to yours in a few hours."
Harry walked to the kitchen and grabbed a mug, filling it with the rest of the coffee. "I know. Can't I visit my best mate on a Saturday morning?"
"Not with that weird look on your face, no you can't," Ron said, narrowing his eyes as Harry sipped his coffee and avoided Ron's eyes. "Is this about last night, why you've been so 'tired' lately?" He sat on the sofa and watched as Harry came to sit on the other end, setting his mug on his knee.
"No, I told you I had a headache," Harry answered.
"Bollocks. Is it happening again? The nightmares and shit?"
Harry rolled his eyes and Ron regretted sounding so harsh, but he didn't know how else to ask. He had to be up front with Harry or else he'd dodge the issue, just like before…
"You know as well as I do that that 'shit' doesn't just go away."
"Yeah, but-"
"That's not why I'm here. Don't worry about me, I'm fine. Really."
Harry took another sip and shifted uncomfortably. Ron wanted to persist, but knowing Harry that would just start a row and he'd end up more closed off than he was right now. He knew when to back off; if Harry wanted to talk he knew where Ron was.
"So what did you want to talk about?" Ron asked, pushing the matter to the back of his mind. He summoned a bag of crisps from the cupboard and started eating them, waiting.
Harry sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose, looking at Ron with that serious I-mean-business face.
"This is about last night, but about what Ginny told you."
"About what's-her-name living with you guys?"
"Hermione, yes. I want to make sure when you come over you're not gonna get all intense and act like-"
"A complete wanker arsehole?"
"More or less."
"Well, you can tell Ginny I'll be on my best behaviour."
"Ginny didn't ask me to come," Harry said, offended. "I just want peace, that's all. Just… try to be nice."
"I'm always nice!"
"Yeah, but not when you're suspicious. I've seen you interrogate, Ron. You can be right scary."
"That's with criminal suspects. This girl, I don't know her and yeah, I'm gonna ask her stuff, but I do have manners. Fucking hell, you two act like I'm a mental case or something."
"You know that's not true."
"…Fine. Alright. I'll be nice."
"That's all I ask."
Harry exhaled loudly and leaned back on the sofa, and Ron offered him something to eat. He summoned another bag of crisps and threw it at Harry who caught it and swiftly opened it. They sat on the sofa for a while in comfortable silence eating crisps, however the conversation they just had rolled around in Ron's mind; there had to be a solution besides him just being nice, because if he were being honest he didn't think he could sit there and have lunch with someone he was wary of and maintain enough politeness to appease everyone. He was never very good at hiding his feelings. He racked his brain and then suddenly sat up, making Harry jump in his seat.
"What is it?" he asked Ron, looking around the flat.
"I think I got it! A way to know for sure!" He stood up, threw the empty crisps bag on the sofa and went to his desk. As he rummaged around in the drawers Harry came to stand beside him.
"What the hell are you on about?"
"Ha! Here it is," Ron held up a white jar with a purple lid, and a label that read "NO FOE" in large print, and scrawled underneath was handwritten "Plus".
"What the hell is that?"
"No Foe, but… altered a bit."
"Okay… what the hell is No Foe?"
"It's something George sells in the shop." He opened the lid and showed the contents to Harry. Inside was a translucent goopy lotion with flecks of blue shiny bits. Harry curled his nose and shook his head.
"It stinks."
"Right, well that'll be the plus, then. The original doesn't have the blue stuff in it."
"Can you just tell me what is happening right now?" Harry asked impatiently, pushing the jar away from his face.
Ron replaced the lid and said, "So the original No Foe is something you can use to tell if someone likes you or not. You put the stuff on your hand and it disappears, but for 24 hours whenever you shake someone's hand you'll be able to tell if that person-"
"-is a foe. Got it. How does it work?"
"I'm getting to that. So when you shake the hand of someone who doesn't like you, of a foe, then your hand turns cold. If they're a friend there's no change."
"And if they like you as more than a friend?"
"Then it warms up. I know it's stupid, and kind of a gimicky, but it works."
"Alright, so is there a degree to the coldness or heat? Can your hand turn to ice or, I dunno, melt our skin?" Harry was looking skeptical, but Ron rushed on to get to his point.
"No, the product George sells is just one level either way. But this," he shook the jar and quirked an eyebrow at Harry, "is different. George and I worked together on advancing the product so we can use it for work. Imagine being undercover and having an advantage of knowing if the person trusts you or not?"
Harry's eyes widened and Ron could tell he was interested. "I admit it does sound useful… But I don't see it being foolproof, or safe. Or even ethical… But you said this was different."
"Yeah, I thought about that, but, like you said, it could be dead useful. Right, so the colder your hand gets the worse their intentions. Nothing turns to ice or catches fire. Say, if you use it on Ginny- nevermind. Forget I said that. You get the idea."
Ron shuddered visibly, but Harry ignored him and took the jar back, opening it. He sniffed again, wrinkling his nose, and said, "So it's safe? Are you sure?"
"Positive. It's still new so that's only one of two jars. I was going to show you on Monday, but I think we can test it out today."
Harry's eyebrows lowered and he squinted at Ron. "Today?"
"Yeah, with Hermione! We have to shake hands when we meet, right? I'll know right away if we should trust her or not."
"But Ginny already trusts her, and Fleur. You don't-"
"Yes, I do." He looked steadily at Harry because he didn't know how else to explain this need to either justify or nullify his suspicions.
Harry sighed and looked down at the substance. He poked it and rubbed it between his fingers. "You said it lasts 24 hours?"
"The original stuff does. This only lasts about ten, give or take."
"Alright, I'm curious. I trust you, but it still feels a bit weird…" He sighed and Ron knew he had him. "So, here's the deal. I'm going to meet her first so I'll test it out. When you come later you can do the same. I'm sure this isn't necessary, but if it'll ease your mind, and it's safe then… fine. Let's do it."
"Cheers, Harry," Ron said happily and clapped him on the shoulder. "All you need is a little bit and rub it all over your hand, like that."
"Is it supposed to tingle like that?"
"Um…"
"Ron!"
"I'm kidding! It's normal!"
Harry thrust the jar back to Ron and continued rubbing his hand until it was dry. "This is kind of brilliant," he said with a slight grin.
"I told you," Ron replied, grinning cockily. "I have the best ideas."
"Let's not get carried away."
They laughed and Ron rubbed some of the No Foe Plus on his own hand, feeling it tingle then watching it disappear. Then he held his hand out and Harry grabbed it, shaking it firmly. Ron didn't feel any difference in temperature, and Harry sighed.
"That just means you don't want to kill or shag me," Ron explained, letting go of Harry's hand.
"Well, that's a relief," Harry said and they both chuckled. "Right," he said, glancing at his watch. "I should get going. I have to do a bunch of errands and pick up lunch later."
"I can help pay for it if you want," Ron offered, already turning to get his wallet.
"No, don't be stupid. I got it," Harry said, moving toward the door. "Besides, if this stuff works like you said you got a promotion coming your way. Then you can pay for breakfast, lunch, dinner and pudding." He smiled wide as he pulled the door open. "See you later!"
Ron waved as the door shut, then plopped down on the sofa, picked up Harry's half empty bag of crisps and finished it off, grinning to himself. It wasn't often he felt proud of something he'd done, and he had George to thank for it. Thinking of George made him want to visit and tell him Harry's reaction. He still had time before lunch so he got up, put on his boots and jacket, grabbed his wand and wallet, then left to give George the good news.
XXXXX
Hermione stood in the middle of her bare soon-to-be former living room, clutching a single black sock tightly in her fist that was clasped by her other hand, both of which were held firmly at her chest. She took a deep breath and told her herself to remain calm. This is what she wanted.
When she told her coworkers she was leaving they were shocked. They tried to hide it, but she knew most of them resented her, thinking she didn't deserve that level of power in a field they had been working in for so many years. But she didn't have to worry about that anymore: the sideways glances and rolling eyes behind her back. She could start over with new people and hopefully this time not gain a reputation as a "dictator" just because she preferred to have things done correctly and on time.
In the past few days she had closed her bank account, sold her flat, shrunk down her furniture and packed everything in a canvas tote bag along with all of her clothing and books using an undetectable extension charm. The bag hung on her shoulder and there was nothing else to do but wait. She had turned the sock that was currently in her hand into a portkey that would take her to King's Cross Station where she would meet Ginny. From there they would Disapparate to her friend's house. After that, well, all she knew was her new job started in two days… and that was it.
She had no idea exactly what she would be doing in her new position, where she would live (she didn't want to overstay her welcome at Ginny and Harry's house), or how the rest of her life would turn out. She didn't even know what she was having for lunch today.
As someone who scheduled almost every minute of her life, all of these up-in-the-air unprepared plans made her head spin. But even with the trepidation beating against her instincts, she knew she was doing the right thing. She couldn't place the feeling, but it was very much close to a fate that she didn't understand; something inevitable that she couldn't fight any longer.
With the adrenaline from quitting her job, packing her things, and ultimately flipping her world upside down, fueling her already hyperactive drive, she couldn't help but feel simultaneously energized and scared out of her wits.
The sock started to tremble in her hand, jolting her from her thoughts. She gripped it harder than was necessary as she waited with bated breath for it to take her from this cold empty world and into a newer brighter one filled with implied promises.
XXXXX
"Hermione!"
As soon as she stepped out from the bathroom in which she had Apparated, Ginny's unmistakable voice rose above the din of the train station, over the massive crowd of travelers pushing trollies and running to catch their train. She picked this location as it was a familiar place for the both of them. Her parents had wanted to meet her after she sent a letter stating her plans, but she declined. She would see them the next day, but today she was too anxious to be asked the many questions she knew they were waiting to ask about her supposedly abrupt alteration to her carefully planned life.
"Ginny!" she called out, waving her hand and watching as the top of Ginny's red head weaved in and out of the mass of people toward her. Then she was engulfed in a fierce hug that almost threw Hermione off her feet.
"Finally, come on," Ginny said with a smile then started walking toward the exit as she talked over her shoulder. "Did anyone see you arrive? I mean, talk about picking the busiest muggle location there ever was."
Hermione let herself be led, amused at Ginny's enthusiasm and distracted by her energy.
"No, I had set up to arrive in a stall I knew had been out of order for years when I was a child. I'm lucky they never fixed it."
"You do know everything, don't you? Or you're just really lucky," Ginny laughed. They were suddenly outside and Hermione stopped in her tracks, making Ginny skid to a stop beside her. "What is it?"
"I just… want to take a moment."
"Oh, right. Sorry," Ginny sighed and tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear and gazed around her. "It is lovely."
"Yeah," Hermione said and took a deep breath. The buildings and pace of people walking the streets were all familiar to her. It had been ages since she had visited, but a surge of warmth filled her just then. It felt like home. "Okay, I'm ready. Lead the way, Ginny," she said with a tremor in her voice, and when she met Ginny's face both of them smiled broadly and practically ran to the next empty alleyway. She took Ginny's arm in her hand and immediately felt a twist in her belly, pulling her up and around and then down again, her feet landing on soft grass.
"Here we are," Ginny announced. "Sorry I was rushing. I wanted to get here before Harry came back. He's out getting lunch and I wanted to show you around."
"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed, shielding her eyes with her hand as she looked up at the cottage in front of her. It wasn't very big; with only one floor it stood on a large piece of land that surrounded the house on all sides, except one long road that led to what looked like infinity. However, framing the property were acres and acres of forest.
The house was built with stone bricks, windows flanked by bright green shutters, and a large red door. Flowers and bushes and various other plants cascaded from around the house, filtering to the sides of the stone walkway leading to the front porch that wrapped around the entire house.
"Thanks," Ginny said, beaming. Her freckled cheeks bloomed pink from Hermione's expression and she wondered if she got many visitors. "My mum helped with the gardening, and I admit I took a liking to it," she said as she led the way up the walk.
"Well, you both did a wonderful job," Hermione said, reaching down to run her fingers through a particular plant whose long thin leaves grazed her legs as she passed.
Ginny waved her wand over the door and muttered a few words before tapping it two times and twisting the knob. "Remind me to show you the password later. Harry's a bit… particular about his protective spells."
Hermione nodded as she followed her through across the threshold. "I completely understand. If I were him I would be as well."
"Right, of course," Ginny chuckled. "But seriously, it is very important. Only a few other people know it and can show up when they please."
"You must have really sold me to him, then," Hermione said, looking around the cozy living room that was open to the kitchen and dining room. "Are you sure it's alright that I stay here? It won't be for long, like I said-"
"I'm sure," Ginny said quickly, waving her hand and taking off her jacket, throwing it to land perfectly on a wall hook by the door. Hermione did the same, albeit more carefully.
The apprehension she felt earlier was coming back after learning just how cautious Harry and Ginny lived out here in the middle of nowhere. She wasn't sure how Ginny got Harry to agree to this, but she imagined he'd be wary of any visitor, especially someone he had never met before. As a person who just left a job in journalism she was up to date about the situation surrounding Harry Potter, what he did only three years ago, and some of his past endeavors. Of course she didn't know any personal details, nor was she here to gain any of that information; she was inquisitive, not stupid. But this was the Harry Potter; suddenly she was worried that she hadn't adequately prepared for this meeting.
"Where did you say he was again?"
Ginny must have heard it in her voice because she turned and smirked at Hermione. "Don't be nervous. It's only Harry. I didn't think you were the type to get all turned around by a 'celebrity'." Her smile was starting to fade so Hermione shook her head.
"Oh, I'm not! I'm just not sure… have you told him everything about me? What I did for a living?"
Ginny rolled her eyes and said, "Yes, and I told you it's fine. Harry's not as hard-ass as people think. Yeah, he defeated Voldemort, and has his down moments, but he's also loyal and loves his friends like they're family. And you are one of them now, by extension of course." She smiled again and wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulder. "Now relax and let me show you around."
Hermione tried to do just that as Ginny steered her in the direction of an archway that led to more rooms, pointing out different things on the way.
"This here is the living room, obviously." She threw her arm out wide to cover an area with two posh modern looking grey sofas facing one another and a glass coffee table sat on top of a plush white rug. A faded high-backed armchair faced an enormous white stone fireplace that dominated the wall between the sofas, with numerous framed moving photos littering the mantle. Hardwood floors ran throughout the entire house that felt and looked much bigger than it did from outside. Hermione detected magic was at work to accommodate for the size.
"There's the kitchen; help yourself to anything you like, there's plenty of food. We can take a trip to the market later if you want to get anything specific, but like I said, Harry will be here soon with lunch. I hope you like fish and chips?"
"Yes, very much, thank you," Hermione said politely, feeling overwhelmed by so much at once. But Ginny was so welcoming and practically bouncing with excitement of having her as a roommate that she couldn't help but catch some of her happiness. "You have a beautiful home, really."
"We got almost everything as soon as we moved in. Harry wanted everything new. Well, except that armchair. It was his godfather, Sirius'…"
Hermione looked again at the armchair that faced the fireplace and remembered reading and editing an article about the infamous fugitive turned famous dead hero that turned out to be Harry's long lost godfather. This man she had only read and written about on paper was being brought to life before her eyes.
"He must have really loved him."
"He did… I was there when it happened. I didn't see, but I saw Harry afterwards… and so much has happened since then…" Ginny smiled sadly then cleared her throat.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said and touched Ginny's arm.
"It's alright," she smiled in reply and shrugged, then beckoned for her to follow. To the left of the open living space was an archway into a long hallway with four doors. "The one right across the entryway is the loo. We have one in our bedroom so this is the one you'll use. To the right are mine and Harry's bedroom and office. To the left is your room." She opened the door to a small bright room that was decorated in all white with light blue curtains and pillows. A tall wardrobe stood facing the double bed and a door that Hermione assumed was a closet was to the right. However, what pulled her attention were three large paintings on separate walls, scenes of people in random and candid poses. They didn't move, and looked as if caught in the middle of everyday life, but with a brightness that almost took Hermione's breath away.
"Did you do these?" Hermione turned to Ginny with wide eyes.
"Yeah," Ginny said with a blush. "I like taking photos of people when we're out, without them noticing. Nothing creepy, but more like normal stuff. Then I thought I'd paint the photos and change them a bit, with a new life I guess. I dunno. I stuck these in here, but I have more in the garage out back."
"I would love to see them," Hermione said enthusiastically and turned to gaze at one with a little girl eating an ice cream cone and holding her mum's hand who was busy talking to a vendor. It was so simple, but it touched Hermione and she wasn't sure why. "I had no idea. You're very talented, Ginny."
"Thanks," she said and smiled to herself. "Harry says he likes them and even offered to ask around galleries for a showing. Can you imagine? I'm not an artist. It's just a hobby."
Hermione was about to tell her she agreed with Harry, but Ginny was already opening the closet door and she figured she'd bring it up later.
"You can hang your things in here. I hope there's enough room. You said you had a lot of books. There's a shelf in the wardrobe you can use."
"I'm sure it'll be fine," she said, almost laughing out loud, thinking of the mountain of books she carried on her shoulder that could probably fill this room. She placed her bag on the bed and patted it. "I have all my things in here so if I need anything I can just summon it."
"Very clever," Ginny mused.
The sound of the front door opening and slamming shut made them both look toward the door and back at each other.
"Ginny! I'm back!"
At the sound of him calling her name Ginny's demeanor changed from ecstatic and bubbly to relaxed and Hermione swore she saw her sigh with relief.
"That'll be Harry Potter," she said to Hermione with a cheeky smile and raised eyebrows. "Come on, let's eat. I'm starving."
Hermione left the room after Ginny and walked in on them hugging and Ginny whispering something into his ear.
"Hello," Harry's face brightened when he saw Hermione standing under the archway. There was Harry Potter in person; unruly black hair, circle-shaped spectacles, and the scar…
He squeezed Ginny's hand and they smiled at each other, and Hermione felt like she was intruding before he walked over to Hermione. He held out his hand, which she shook firmly, straightening her back and attempting to appear as friendly and casual as possible.
He was shaking her hand and all she could think about was the sacrifices he had made, how much he had lost since he was a baby, the terrible things he had gone through. Yet he was smiling and even though she sensed sadness behind his bright green eyes that she assumed had always been there, nowhere in his expression did she read an ounce of smugness or entitlement. She was taken aback by how immediately she was taken by him, but in a way that felt almost… familiar. She smiled, thinking he had that effect on everyone he met; he must be that humble of a person.
"Hello… you're Harry Potter," she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth, and she could have chopped her foot off right then and there and promptly stuffed it into her mouth. Her face felt hot when Harry's smile changed from friendly to amused.
"Last I checked," he replied and took his hand away since she hadn't let go yet. She groaned and he chuckled, speaking before she could stuff the other foot in with the first. "Are you hungry? Sorry I was so late. I was at Ron's trying to get him going." He put a hand on her shoulder briefly then walked to the kitchen to gather plates and utensils.
Ginny caught her eye when Harry's back was turned and winked at her, as if telling her she needn't have worried so much.
"I am quite famished," Hermione said, shaking off the shock and awe, and internally reprimanding herself for acting like a nitwit. She sat in one of the six seats at the table and smoothed down her jumper. "I was so busy this morning I had forgotten to eat breakfast."
"I guess that means we don't have to worry about you eating us out of house and home then," Harry said with a laugh as he placed 4 glasses on the table and sat down across from Hermione.
"Harry!" Ginny smacked him on the shoulder and sat down next to Hermione, pulling a plate off the stack and handing her one, then Harry and herself. "I was just telling Hermione how friendly and wonderful you are. You spend too much time with Ron, I swear."
Hermione laughed along with them, unsure of the context. She did, of course, know who Ron Weasley was, him being the other half of The Duo and Harry's best mate for ten years. He was an integral part of winning the war and was Harry's partner in the Auror Department. Aside from that Hermione didn't know much else about him other than the photos in various newspapers, including her own. The image of his face came to her mind and she found herself blushing at the thought of meeting him in person, in only a few moments.
"Should we wait for your brother before we eat?" she asked, watching them pile food onto their plates. It felt rude to start eating when other guests hadn't arrived yet.
Harry laughed, shaking his head, and Ginny said, "No, it's only Ron. It's his own fault he's late. Take what you want, there's plenty. He should be here soon." She exchanged a glance with Harry, but Hermione couldn't tell what it was about. She wondered if there was something she should know, but her hunger won out and she decided to eat, hoping that would calm her nerves.
Harry was just telling her that she would be accompanying him to work on Monday, since she had never been to the Ministry before, when the front door opened. From her place at the table she could only see the door as it stayed open for a moment, then a tall figure with hair as red as Ginny's stepped through and banged it shut behind him.
"Finally! Get your arse in here!" Ginny yelled toward the door and rolled her eyes. Harry stood up when he saw Ron arrive, and before Hermione could introduce herself he opened the door and pushed Ron outside, closing the door behind them.
"What the hell was that about?" Ginny asked out loud. Hermione shrugged, feeling out of place and anxious by the second. She watched as Ginny stood up and walked to the door. But it opened before she could reach it and both Harry and Ron came back inside to Ginny glaring at them.
"Sorry, I had to, er, tell him something quick before I forgot. Work stuff," Harry said, and even Hermione knew that was a lame excuse. She couldn't help but think that that strange moment was about her. She stood up as well, feeling awkward being the only one sitting, and walked over to them, smoothing her hair back and feeling if her plait was still intact.
Her first thought when she saw Ron up close was how overwhelming his entire… being was. Pictures didn't do him justice: his hair was incredibly bright, lighter than Ginny's, and reminded Hermione of a sunrise… or sunset – she couldn't decide. He was much taller in person and she imagined if she were to get close enough the top of her head would only reach his shoulder. He had big hands, big feet, a massive amount of freckles over his long nose and pale cheeks, piercing blue eyes, full pink lips, and long blonde lashes. It seemed every part of him was extreme and so very… significant that he made her feel small in comparison. But she was determined not to let that interfere with a good first impression. She had already mucked up with Harry, and she didn't want a repeat performance.
"This is Hermione," Ginny said when Hermione reached them. "Hermione, this is Ron, my prat of a brother."
"Whom you love to bits," Ron said with a smirk toward Ginny. Then he turned his eyes to Hermione. "Ah, the elusive Hermione. It's so nice to meet you," he said. His tone was friendly, but she felt like he was putting on an act. However, she didn't know him well enough to know the difference, so she assumed this was his way of being humorous.
"You are correct. Nice to meet you, too." She smiled brilliantly and stuck her hand out, attempting to be as polite as possible to dissipate his obvious apprehension. "Thank you so much for your help, you know, with the job and all." She noticed his eyes darken and he hesitated before grabbing her hand in his, gripping it harder than she had anticipated. She faltered for a second then gripped it even harder back; her defenses suddenly up around her. It was then she realized: he didn't trust her. Yet for some reason she was intrigued by him. Maybe even a bit… attracted? Which was understandable as he was a handsome man, so it was perfectly logical to find him attractive, wasn't it?
"You're very welcome," he said and cocked his head to the side, his smile twitching on his unreadable face.
She was determined not to be the one to let go of the handshake that was becoming sweaty under her palm. He was studying her, his eyes roaming over her features. She felt the warmth spread from her hand up her arm and into her chest. When she started to feel flustered under his scrutiny and her heart began pounding she yanked her hand back, clearing her throat.
The handshake only lasted for a few seconds, and she doubted Harry or Ginny noticed the quiet exchange, but when he raised one of his brows, questioning her silently, she refused to meet his stare. She was angry at herself for not knowing whether to be offended or… something else…
Harry pushed Ron playfully, telling him to come and eat. As soon as Ron was out of her line of sight Hermione felt a chill run down her spine that wasn't unpleasant, but worried her nonetheless.
Ginny sighed heavily, watching Harry and Ron walk away, then turned to Hermione. She must have noticed Hermione's uneasiness because she nudged her and whispered, "I told you he was a prat." Then she smiled reassuringly. "Honestly, he's just an overprotective big brother, so don't worry if he acts like one. But I wouldn't be offended if you decided to hex him at any point."
Hermione laughed along with Ginny, but, now more than ever, she wondered if she made the right decision. Watching them talk and interact as she stood on the sidelines, it was as if she had accidentally disrupted something intimate, as if she were prying into this already established inner circle where they all knew one another's ticks and humor.
But then Ginny called her over and she shook it out, reminding herself that she was invited, and she was Hermione: intelligent, strong-minded and confident. She was determined to fit in, no matter what. She rolled her shoulders, walked back to the table and sat back down. But even in her most resolute state of mind she was relieved that Ron wasn't directly in front of her- far enough away from his calculated looks and that indecipherable impression he had on her.
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