Tap, tap, tap.
Let me sleep.
Knock, knock, knock.
Goodness! Two more minutes; can't you wait?
Bang!
"Hermione! It's eleven! Get up!" rang Ginny's voice. Hermione's coffee colored eyes widened. Ginny came forth, barging in, and causing a ruckus. "Up, up, up!"
"For fucks sake, Ginny, leave me alone! I'm bloody tired," Hermione threw out. She had a major headache due to the drinking binge she had last night in Ron's room, which consisted of Ron passing out, George calling his mum "a fat lard," and Harry heavily making out with Ginny in front of Molly.
Ginny tsked her and said, "Aren't you supposed to go to Diagon Alley and getting school supplies? And swearing in the wee hours of the morning is not good for your health. Now up!"
The bushy haired Gryffindor groaned, her head pounding and her mouth feeling as if sand had been shoved down her throat. The sunlight wasn't helping at all, and she buried herself deeper in the sheets. Diagon Alley could wait.
Just when Hermione was feeling comfortable, a gust of wind swept through, leaving Hermione shivering and very moody from the lack of her warm, soft blanket. Hermione got up a little too fast, causing a wave of unsteadiness to her. "Give it back!"
"They're my sheets! And, this is my room. Now up!" To prove a point, Ginny went out the door and slammed it shut. Hermione's head started to spin, and she really wanted to smack Ginny. Plus, it didn't help that it was that time of month. She was going to be very moody indeed.
Grudgingly, she got up, and another round of dizziness swept over her. Her stomach lurched at the smell of the food being made downstairs. Gingerly, Hermione kept her stomach still as she began to walk towards the loo. This is a bad idea, she thought.
As Hermione shut the door behind her, she looked up and inspected last night's damage. Dark circles covered the underneath of her eyes, leaving her looking distraught and completely hung-over. The bushy mane had gotten even wilder during the night. Now scared of her appearance, Hermione splashed cold water on her face, soothing the worry lines.
Hermione could hear the shouts and the arguments already in the morning. Despite her parched mouth, she was suddenly eager to get something shoved down her throat. Step by step, and cautiously that was, she went down, the talking getting louder. Now somewhat remembering what had happened last night, Hermione was downright afraid to come face to face with Molly.
She stuck her head out, checking to see if the coast was clear. The table was empty, although there was food on it. Only thing was, nobody was sitting down, save for Arthur and Harry. Upon further inspection, she found Ron, George, and Ginny lined up, staring straight ahead. Their clothing was prim and proper. To the left of George, Molly was standing with her arms crossed, her lips pursed and her face down right beet red.
"This kind of behavior is not accepted, do you understand? Calling your mother a-a 'fat lard' is extremely rude! Not to mention getting drunk out of your mind in my house! From now 'til the end of summer, you will make amends to me, whether you like it or not." Molly's shrill voice stopped. Her chest was heaving up and down in sheer anger.
"Now just a minute, Mom – we were just having some fun, alright? I mean—" Ron began.
"Fun!" Molly broke out. She angrily fumbled with her pocket and pulled out a thin, white rolled up paper.
"This is fun to you?" she asked, shaking the spliff in front of Ron, her face turning purple now. His eyes got wide, and then made a disbelieving sound.
"Believe me, I didn't do it—"
"Ah, good times last night. These Muggles make the most wonderful contraptions," George rang out. He was smiling as if he were running down memory lane. "Dad, what's this called?"
Arthur, who had long been deprived of his Muggle profession, happily straightened his back, getting ready to lecture. "Well, it is a curious little thing. You see—"
"ENOUGH! I have simply had enough! No more parties, no more drinking, and everyone goes to bed at ten, with no exceptions!" She flicked the spliff out the window and smacked her hands on the kitchen counter. She fumed for another minute, her breathing going in and out rather fast. During this time, however, Ron and George's stomachs rumbled. Ginny, being the sweet girl she was, kept silent. Although she tried unsuccessfully to smother her giggle.
"Oh, for goodness sake, go and eat," Molly said unwillingly. Exuberantly, George and Ron went to the table, Ginny in tow. They acted as if nothing happened, considering the way the boys were wolfing their food.
Timidly, Hermione moved away from her threshold. "Ah, Hermione; I was wondering where you were," greeted Molly. Despite the fact she was yelling a mere three minutes ago, she seemed genuinely happy.
"Morning, everyone." Hermione sat down next to Ginny while getting some toast for herself. Having heard Mrs. Weasley yell at her kids for being irresponsible, Hermione thought she should say something. After all, she had participated.
"Mrs. Weasley, I think it's only fair that I get punished also. I-I mean, I was drinking also, and—"
"Oh! What nonsense! Please don't bother yourself with this. I already had to explain to Harry already, so don't you worry!" she said. Molly paused, sliding her eyes down to her three redheads. "You three, on the other hand . . ."
"Are the best fucking kids you ever had!" George slammed his fist on the table, grinning from ear to ear.
Everyone waited for Molly to scold George for swearing. "Fucking right, my boy" was all they heard from the corner of the table. Six pair of eyes moved simultaneously to face the oblivious eyes of Arthur. He shrugged nonchalantly. "What? It's true."
Hermione couldn't help but laugh.
"I need nine goat—Ginny, look at this! It says I need nine pieces of 'goat droppings!' Am I taking Potions or what?" Everything in Diagon Alley was nothing like it was before, and she was just mad for no reason. Goat droppings; really? There were only three uses for them, and she had to spend all her money on nine goat droppings because her Potions class required it.
"Hermione, lighten up. All you've been doing is complaining and complaining. C'mon, we're all shopping," said Ginny. "Be happy!" she sang, spinning around in a circle as she did so.
All Hermione could do was roll her eyes. It wasn't that she didn't want to buy new items for school, but Diagon Alley was not Diagon Alley anymore. It was a barren wasteland, filled with empty streets and empty people. Most of the shops were ruined, but only a few were put together. There were several people out in the streets, hungry and tired, their raggedy clothing showing how much of a battle they put up with.
She felt guilty buying all this nonsense when someone else needed the money. She hated going out for school supplies when there were hardly any stores to buy anything in the first place. She hated how everyone was thinking everything was all dandy and fine when it wasn't. There was such a huge mess and no one was bothering to at least help. For being one of the most famous witches, Hermione felt useless. She could be using her power and influence to help in some way.
Harry did not come with them because every time he went out, he would be bombarded with people and cameras. So, for now, it was just Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Ginny.
"Ginny, just leave 'Mione alone," said Ron from behind. Out of the corner of Hermione's eye, she saw Ron form the words 'It's that time of the month' to Ginny. Twat. Just because it was the time of the month didn't mean anything. Wasn't she allowed to be upset anyway because of what was in front of her?
"Ron, what the hell do you know about that time of the month? Haven't you thought maybe seeing this once happy place is making me upset? Or how about the fact that you're not coming to Hogwarts with me?" Thankfully, no one was in sight. Ginny and her parents had fallen behind. Hermione stopped walking, tears threatening to fall. Oh, bugger. There would be no stopping now.
All the stress and worry Hermione had accumulated was getting to her. Nothing was going to help. She felt like shit. She was tired and sad and plain mad, all mixed in one. Hermione was confused with her emotions.
Clutching Hermione's books in one hand, Ron came closer and rested a soothing hand on her shoulder. He smiled slightly, but it was a bit blurred due to the lingering tears in Hermione's eyes. "Hermione, don't worry. We've already worked this out; I'll visit you all the time, and we can go to Hogsmeade, and it'll be all right. I mean, I think we're a pretty good couple, if you get what I'm saying, really." The hand that was resting on Hermione's shoulder left, went to Ron's pocket, and retrieved a pastry. A silly grin was plastered on his face. "Want one?"
Anger bubbled forth. Hermione's eyes stung even more; not from sadness, but from rage. Everything would not be all right. She was going to be in school, and Ron would be doing God knows what. The fact Ron was leaving her reminded her of a certain event from not too long ago. He had promised that he would be there for her—for both of them, but instead, he had bolted for selfish reasons. She remembered feeling empty and gone, only having the comfort of the dingy tent and Harry's soothing words. Even the damn locket brought some sense of security during that time.
"No."
"Hermione, do you have everything ready?" asked Molly. She tugged on her woolen robes nervously, smiling as she did so.
Hermione looked around at everything, seeing all the packed bags were good to go inside the car. "Yes, Mrs. Weasley."
She was going to visit her parents for the first time this summer for three weeks. She knew she was being unfair to them, and so she had decided to go. Hermione was planning on staying at the Burrow for another week, but some things couldn't wait.
It wasn't that Hermione just suddenly wanted to leave; she had meaning to visit her parents all summer. But now she had the overwhelming urge to just . . . go. She was cooped up in this Wizarding drama and she wanted to relax. Her parents had promised to take her to South of France, and she was excited to say the least.
But there were other causes as well.
The wind blew over, causing Hermione's hair to become a mane again. Everyone had said their good-byes—only Harry, Ron, and Molly were outside. Arthur was already in the car, waiting for Hermione. She could have gone through the Floo Network, but Arthur insisted on driving.
"Well, I'll see you at school then, Hermione," said Harry. He smiled as he came nearer, wrapping his strong arms around Hermione's thin frame. She hugged him back fiercely, trying to convey how much she cared for him. Eventually, Harry let go, and Ron slowly stepped forward.
Much to his credit, he kept a strong face. He came gradually, testing the waters and their emotions. He rested half a foot away from Hermione, not bothering to come closer. The sunlight made his orange hair even brighter; his eyes were squinting to block out the light.
"Bye, Hermione."
She swallowed, not trusting herself to look up at Ron. She felt tears gather around her eyes, and now she really wanted to kick herself. This wasn't a final good-bye. They were going to meet each other very soon. Ron had promised her he would visit often and take her to Hogsmeade. He said he loved her.
So why did it feel like it was a final good-bye?
You could say she bolted. You could say she ran off like she was getting chased by Voldemort himself. And instead of being the mature, smart person she was, she left without another word, silently shutting the ancient car door, and watching Ronald Weasley disappear through the side mirrors.