Chapter 2

A deep breath filled Hermione's lungs with the cold dewy morning air, and she slowly pulled herself up from the porch swing, and looking longingly at the comfortable escape, before grabbing her empty coffee mug and dragging her feet towards the front door. Only when she was inside, did Hermione realise that she had goose bumps on her arms from the morning chill.

When Molly Weasley came down the creaking stairs, the better part of an hour later, her eyebrows raised and her eyes widened slightly in surprise, pausing for a second, before continuing to the pantry to start breakfast. Hermione's own eyebrows furrowed, knowing that Molly was surprised to see her up before herself. But it was the younger witch's turn to be surprised when Mrs Weasley spoke.

"Good morning dearie. How are you? Good? I'm surprised that you're up already after such a late night. Why don't you go upstairs and lie down with Ronald?" Molly's tone was bright and cheery, but left no room for questioning her meaning. She wouldn't accept protest and pushed Hermione up the stairs to her bedroom – or well the room under the attic that was her and Ron's bedroom.

But tip-toeing inside and lying down carefully on her own side of the bed, Hermione sighed at Mrs Weasley's insistence that her and Ron be together all the time. And she really didn't like it how Mrs Weasley was always suggesting that her and Ron would stay up later, she didn't like the thought that Mrs Weasley spent any time at all thinking about why her and Ron would stay up late.

I mean, it's not really any of her business, right? Hermione thought. We are both responsible adults – or well I am, and we know to be careful wh—but Hermione's trail of thoughts we cut of when her boyfriend rolled over, only just waking up, his heaving arm pressing down on her chest, his hand groping, trying to find her breast. Another, bigger, sigh left her, as she bit her lip and rolled over to face the wall.

But Ron was having none of that and pulled her back to face him. She cringed internally when she felt him place a sloppy wet kiss onto her lips and chin, her nose turning up when he breathed out in her face. But she remembered what her parents always said – just grin and bear it, so she did (Hermione's parents had also told her that Ron was no good, but she had decided that because they didn't know him, how could they know that?). Smiling sweetly at him, she whispered, "Good morning darling, sleep well?"

"A'ight. But it would be better if there was less sleeping and more…" Ron's gruff, careless voice trailed off, as his hand, which had be massaging her boob rather hard and sorely, trailed downwards, pushing aside her favourite dressing gown roughly – but Hermione drew the line there and pushed his hand away, quickly pecking him on the cheek before once more leaving the bed to Ron's complaining.

"Ron, I've only just gotten up and I haven't even had breakfast! Besides, I'm still sore from last night and I don't think I could bear going again…" Hermione trailed off, hoping that he wouldn't pick up on her numerous lies. And he didn't, but that wasn't really a surprise, even though she was already wearing a dressing gown that she hadn't last night… Hermione shook her head in wonder.

Now that she wasn't worried about disturbing Ron's sleep, Hermione made her way to the dresser and picked out a pair of new-ish jeans and a nice deep purple top that she like – and Ginny said she look "fantastically hot" in. But apparently her boyfriend couldn't get past the colour. "Why do you always wear such dark, depressing colours? I mean, the war is over! The final battle was three months ago and it seems like your still in mourning! How are you not depressed by it? I'm depressed by it!" he ranted rather insensitively, not paying any heed to the wince that came from her side of the room and the sad little frown that appeared on her face for a moment, but was gone just as fast.

Maybe it's a guy thing, I mean, aren't they all supposed to be super insensitive? An unsure voice said in Hermione's head.

But aren't they also supposed to love it when women are "fantastically hot" too? And Harry isn't this insensitive to Ginny, or even to me! Hell, even the twins aren't this insensitive to me, and I'm not dating them! Another voice said, betraying her even in her head.

Hermione shook her head as she squeezed into the skin-tight jeans and cleared her mind of any traitorous thoughts she might have towards her boyfriend. And she should, because she loved him.

Yes, she loved him, and he loved her and they were happy. She was happy. She was happy when he talked to her, when he held her, when he danced with her, when he kissed her, when he made love to her, and yes, she was happy when he slapped her bum as she walked past him to the door.

The late morning found Hermione siting under the old tree by the Weasley's pond, casting a shadow on the rotting wooden jetty. Her head was bent, her face an intense frown as she concentrated on thick, heavy novel that was resting in her lap. Suddenly she gave a bark of laughter, paused as she reread the passage and let out a loud booming laughter than nobody outside her family had heard. She was still grinning wildly, the last traces of mirth slowing fading from her voice when she spotted 2 dark spots in the cloudless sky. Hermione knew what they were of course; she hadn't spent seven years in the magical world looking at owls every day to not know what one looked like in the distance. She was curious, though, as to why the two birds went in different directions, and more so when one came towards her. But then she realised who they must be from and she hit herself softly on the forehead for not realising it sooner.

Hermione gently removed the heavy letter on that familiar yellowing thick paper from the tired owl's leg and nudged it towards the Burrow's open window where it would most likely find an owl treat lying somewhere around the kitchen or the living room. Then Hermione paused, almost as if she were frozen, not moving, only her eyes shifting from side to side, before squealing quietly in excitement. Hogwarts! She thought with relief, I can go home.

Hermione didn't like people see the excitable, almost silly side of her. She had hid it when she was a child, trying too hard to be good, and then at Hogwarts, trying too hard to fit in. And now she finally had a place, she couldn't be herself when other people were there. And that was sad, but Hermione didn't mind, they could think what they wanted, they didn't know the real Hermione Granger. However, getting to return to Hogwarts, this was a moment that the real Hermione Granger was allowed to shine.

She ripped open the letter, not caring if she looked like a little kid and read:

Dear Ms Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been invited to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to complete your seventh year. We are furthermore pleased to inform you that you have been invited by the staff here at the school to be Head Girl this year. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary book and equipment, along with your Head Girl badge. I shall meet you and the new Head Boy on the Hogwarts Express to inform you of your new duties. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than August 5.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmaster

A delighted squeal left her mouth before she could stop it. Hogwarts! Hermione quickly looked around her, checking to see if nobody was around, before she did her own little happy dance. And then she gave a relieved laugh when what she had read really sank in. She was going back to Hogwarts, she could finish school, she could take a break from her tiresome boyfriend and his overbearing mother!

Wait, what? Ron isn't tiresome… no, a small voice said in her head, that's exactly the problem - he simply doesn't tire out…

Hermione sighed, pushed that devil voice out of her mind, shook her head and composed herself. Then her eyes darted back to the date on the parchment. August 5th - only 2 days from now! Almost of their own accord, Hermione's legs started moving in a fast walk towards the kitchen once again, pausing to pick up her book. And as she walked back to the Burrow to write her acceptance letter, she mentally made a list of what she would need to do over the next 3 weeks.

To do:

Buy textbooks/supplies

Read textbooks

Pack trunk with clothes/supplies/books/personal belongings

Have a "talk" with Ron about long-distance relationship

Well, she could think of more as time went on, right now she was too distracted, too excited.