I do not own Harry Potter anything.
But I do have a wand. Sorta.
Summer at Grimmauld Place
Tough Decisions
Hermione Granger stood in the steamy bath.
Completely dumbfounded.
She never forgot her wand. It was always next to her.
Always.
Especially in troubling times such as these.
And even when they weren't.
She loved her wand.
It was the first magical item she had ever touched.
On the day that it chose her.
It was special.
It was made of vine wood and a dragon heartstring core.
And it was not here.
Determinedly, she closed her eyes.
Concentrated.
Accio, wand.
Opened her eyes.
And waited.
Nothing.
With a deep, calming breath, she closed her eyes.
And tried again.
Accio, wand.
Again, nothing.
She let out her breath.
Oh honestly.
And looked around.
The curtains wouldn't work. Too flimsy and thin.
The loo paper useless in this situation. Only dissolve and stick to her.
Her clothes, well, she had to put something on, didn't she?
So Hermione Jean Granger, a most clever witch, stood and thought.
She never forgot her wand.
And she never forgot a towel either.
But there she had been, musing over possible clues in 'Babbity Rabbity' and she'd gone right into the bath.
Locked the door.
And just showered away.
It wasn't until she had turned the water off and reached for her towel that she had realized her mistake.
Unbelievable.
But, no worry, she'd just siphon off the water with her . . .
No. Way.
And there she was.
A brilliant witch, if she did say so herself.
Entrusted with a Time-Turner third year by Professor Dumbledore himself.
Creator and owner of a teeny beaded clutch imbued with an illegal Undetectable Extension Charm.
Stranded with no towel and no wand.
In a quite female-less House of Black.
Unless you counted the hateful Mistress Black's portrait.
Which she didn't.
She considered just remaining there in the bath, allowing herself to drip dry until she could re-dress and finally leave.
And decided the Dark Lord might be defeated before she and her thick, unmagicked, unmanageable hair dried.
And she was so very chilly.
So there was only one option left.
Biting her lip anxiously, she opened the door.
Just a tiny bit.
"Kreacher?"
No answer.
That had been too much to hope for.
Still, she waited a bit, shivering and dripping water, before trying again.
"Harry?"
Nothing.
Hermione Granger wasn't one for obscenities.
But . . .
"Hermione, you alright?"
Oh bloody hell.
Everyone had their breaking point.
"Hello, Ronald."
And refrained from banging her head on the wall in frustration and shame.
Shuffling feet on the other side of the now firmly shut door.
And a repeat of the question.
"You alright then?"
She hesitated.
"Yes, thank you. I . . . I . . . I left my towel on the bed."
And it came to her.
Suddenly. Obviously. As if it had been there. All the time.
"And my wand on the bureau."
More shuffling, this time slightly embarrassed sounding.
Then the feet went away.
And came back.
"I've got it. Your towel. Pale blue, yeah?"
She hesitated again.
Opened the door a crack.
Thrust her arm through up to the elbow.
There was a brief pause.
In her mind's eye, she feverishly saw him lean down and kiss the upturned palm.
And came back to reality as cloth touched it instead.
Instantly, she grasped it, pulled it inside, and shut the door again.
"Thank you, Ronald," she called most formally, willing her voice not to shake.
The feet stayed still for a moment.
"You're welcome, Hermione."
Then they went away.
And Hermione Jean Granger never forgot her wand or her towel again.
Until years later.
When she meant to.
Okay, I can already hear some of you. Why do witches and wizards even need to take showers? Why didn't Ron just magic the towel into the bathroom? What are you writing, you twit?
Meh, I'm just having fun here. And you keep reading, don't you? ;)
Thanks to brigid1318, DinahRay, ChAvi, and JeanandBilius for your reviews! You guys are so sweet!