Disclaimer: Yeah yeah, you know the drill. The characters belong to her, the measly little plot belongs to me. It might not be much, but it's all I need. Just try to take it from me. Just try. I got the "just try" deal from somewheres too. I forget exactly. So I guess that's not mine either. Ron's tummy muscles *definitely* belong to me, and some genius owns pillows. They're a pretty good invention. Ice skating belongs to Nancy Kerrigan, I think.
Wow, big pause, huh? I'm sooooorry... I went on a mad writing jag, though... I have through part five done, and I thnk I can finish part 6 tonight, and part 7, 8, and 9 after that. Major writer's block took me over, it was horrible. But I'm back, and I'll post more quickly... Gotta love those four day weekends.
I've decided. Hermione's favorite book? Jonathon Livingston Seagull. No one said that they've even read it, and that depresses me. Very much. Also, I just want to be an instagator, so I'm going to go against everyone and say Jonathon.
Zsenya- my dad is the same way. He's always threatening to call me Daddy's Little Princess in front of my friends... EEK!! To everyone who asked- it's my house I'm describing, right down to the magnets on the fridge. Someone said that when we met them in the books, Hermione's parents didn't seem like deranged dentists... We met them once, and didn't get physical discriptions or personalities, so I made them up. Ok, that's enough.
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Everybody's looking for that something,
the one thing that makes it all complete.
You'll find it in the strangest places--
places you never knew it could be.
-Westlife "Flying Without Wings"
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Hermione woke up very early the next morning, when the dawn was just beginning to streak across the sky. She quickly shut off her alarm clock and dressed as quietly as possible; she didn't want anyone to know where she was going. She grabbed her skates and slung them over her shoulder, the gesture old and familiar.
She trooped downstairs and out the back door, and began to make her way through the snow to the lake behind her house. Once she got there, she sat on a log and removed her shoes. A sudden sense of deja-vu came over her, and she remembered that crazy dream she had. She looked over her shoulder cautiously, expecting a man to be standing there, and then she mentally kicked herself. 'Be sensible,' she reminded herself, and she forced her gaze back down to her feet.
Once her shoes were off she slipped on her skates. They were a little snug, but they would do for a few quick turns on the ice. She laced them up, and stepped onto the ice for the first time in four years.
She slid out first one foot, and then the other, a little apprehensively at first. But the old rhythm was still there, and she found it with no trouble. She glided across the lake, being careful to stay only where she was sure it was thick enough to support her weight. Once she was certain that she hadn't forgotten the basics, she easily shifted her weight and did a little half turn so that she was moving in reverse. Her skates swooshed across the ice as she flipped back to normal and picked up speed, skating a figure eight and then moving on one foot. She did a small turn, and it made her want to do something very stupid. She took a deep breath, trying to work up the nerve. No, she couldn't. It was too risky. She had just gotten on the ice ten minutes ago, and she wanted to try a jump? Not to mention that she hadn't done one in years; she would probably break a leg. Or her neck. So no, she would keep to the simple stuff.
But as she did another turn, her body stopped listening to common sense. She dug one toe into the ice and leaped, spinning twice before she landed again, one leg straight out behind her. The move was just as natural as it had been four years ago. A broad grin spread across her face and she had to try it again. And again. And now a tight spin, fast and dizzying. It had always been the hardest for her, not because it was a terribly difficult move but because she always lost her balance after all that crazy spinning. So she attempted it now with caution, and only did half of it. But that was alright, she could jump. She could still fly, and nothing else mattered in the world.
~**~**~**~**~
Two hours later, Hermione tromped back up through the snow to the house. Her ankles were killing her and she was shivering with cold, but she didn't care. She had skinned her knee when she fell after a particularly zealous attempt at a jump, but she didn't care. It had been so good to skate again that she hardly even noticed the cold or the pain. She hadn't known just how much she missed it until that morning, and she resolved to skate more than once every four years.
Her mother was already up, puttering around the kitchen making breakfast. "Morning, sunshine," said Mrs. Granger. "Have a nice skate?"
"Yeah, actually I did," said Hermione with a grin. "It was great to be back on the ice. And- Wait, how did you know?"
"I assumed that you didn't just take those skates with you out for a walk. And I could see you out the window," said Mrs. Granger. "Besides, you've got that look on your face."
"What look?"
"The look you get after you read a really good book, or go ice skating," said her mother, grinning at her.
In spite of herself, Hermione smiled a little sheepishly. "It was nice to do it again... Skates were a bit tight though..." She trailed off, reveling in the last little bit of left-over rush. She gave her head a little shake to clear her mind. "Do you want help with breakfast, Mum?"
"It's pretty close to being done already. You can go wake up your friends, though, so they don't miss the food."
"Alright," said Hermione, her good mood fading a bit at the thought of facing Harry and Ron so soon. Nevertheless, she climbed the staircase and knocked lightly on the door to the guestroom. When no one answered she creaked it open and peeked inside.
Her gaze first fell on Harry, who was sprawled on the floor, face down on his pillow. Only the top of his head was visible beneath the blankets, and his hair looked even darker than usual against the white pillow case.
Then she looked at Ron, who was stretched out on the bed. He was laying face up, and the blankets had worked down to his waist. The top of his paisley pajamas had hiked up a little bit, and his stomach was visible. 'Looks like someone's been working out,' thought Hermione, and instantly clapped her hands over her mouth to prevent the giggles from escaping. She stretched out an arm to shake him awake, but stopped mid-stretch. He just looked so peaceful... And with his face all relaxed, and his hair all messy, he looked extremely cute. A little half-smile was on his face. She wondered what he was dreaming about.
And then she wondered if maybe she had spent a little too much time out in the cold. What was she doing, standing there thinking about how adorable he looked? Was she crazy? She shot her arm out and practically smacked him awake.
Ron jerked upright with a little gasp, looking panicked. His gaze traveled wildly around the room until it fell on her, and for one moment his azure eyes were completely naked and revealing. 'He was dreaming about me,' she thought fleetingly, not knowing how she knew but knowing it all the same. Then he blinked and the familiar shroud went over his eyes, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't like knowing what he was thinking, even if it was about her. Something about the way Ron was looking at her told her that maybe he knew he had revealed something.
He looked away and ran a hand through his hair, and Hermione suddenly realized that her hair probably wasn't looking its best either. Cold air did weird things to her hair, not to mention the spinning probably hadn't helped much. She reached up and tried to smooth it down, making the gesture as natural as possible.
Once she trusted her voice, she said, "My mum wanted me to wake you guys up. For breakfast."
"Yeah? What time is it?" asked Ron, looking anywhere except at Hermione.
She glanced at her watch. "It's about nine-thirty."
"Oh." He looked down at Harry. "Aren't you going to punch him awake too?"
She scowled at him. "I think I'm entitled to do a little punching after last night."
He looked suddenly sheepish. "Yeah, about that... Me and Harry talked about it, and we're really sorry we laughed."
Hermione was taken aback. She reached out an arm, causing Ron to flinch, but she didn't hit him. She laid her hand across his forehead. "I don't think you have a fever..."
He smacked her hand away, grinning. "So I apologized a bit fast. 'Tis the season, and all that."
She grinned back at him, thinking that maybe she had the fever; she couldn't remember the last time she'd accepted an apology from him so quickly. But at the moment she didn't care; it felt nice just to be on good terms with him again.
Ron grabbed his pillow and tossed it at Harry, who had continued to sleep peacefully through the whole conversation. It bounced off his head and he jumped up to a sitting position. He saw Hermione, trying not to laugh, and Ron, trying to look innocent, and he grabbed up the pillow that had hit him and chucked it in the general direction of Ron, but as he was still partially laying down, his aim was quite a bit off. The pillow instead hit Hermione in the face, and when Ron burst out laughing she took her turn with the pillow; she was only a few feet away from him, and her aim was good. He seized his pillow back up and looked at Harry; Harry grabbed his own pillow and looked at him; they both turned to Hermione with evil grins.
She instantly saw what they were smiling about. "Oh no, come on guys, that's not fair, I don't have ammunition, don't you dare-" But they were already on her, and an all out pillow war commenced.
It was quite a while before they got down to breakfast.
~**~**~**~**~
So, mama like, mama like? Does anyone who is reading this ice skate? Because I want to get a little more technical in my descriptions, and I'm gonna need names of some actual moves pretty soon. You'll all see why! Unless they're technical enough already, feedback would be nice.
And is it completely off the wall that Hermione is a good ice skater? I'm a believer that everyone has at least one special talent, and school just doesn't count. So for the purposes of this story, I gave her the ability to ice skate. It was gonna be snow-mobiling, be thankful.
See the box? Well, leave me a flame. Yup, go ahead. I'm gonna need the flames later in my story, and if you leave me some, then I won't have to buy them. Because store-bought flames are really no match for the home-cooked ones. So go ahead, do me a big favor and leave me a flame!
