Disclaimer: That's right: You guessed it. All the interesting characters and their powers belong to J.K. Rowling and her publishers. The typos in-between are mine and I will not relinquish claim to them. No matter what the men from the mad-house say. They're mine, I tell you, MINE!!!!
A/N: I wrote this chapter and posted it without even looking into Bulgarian culture, and then a couple of things were brought to my attention by some people who were kind enough to review. THANK YOU! I went back & looked at some things and it turned out they actually fit into Bulgarian culture! They would have been totally ridiculous in Britain or here in the US (like 15 yr olds engaged) but in the Bulgarian countryside average age of marriage is pretty young, so it all worked out. Anyways, on with the story. :)
*~* Neville's Crush and Heather's Surprise *~*
Ron usually relished the afternoon before Christmas Break. Most years it was filled with visions of presents and free time spent with his two best friends—well his best friend and the girl who got under his skin like none had done before. This year, however, he felt nothing but dread as he made last minute checks of his trunk. He and Hermione were to take the Hogwarts Express that evening and they hadn't had a chance to say goodbye to Harry. They'd seen him in class but since classes ended he had seemed to have disappeared. Ron turned to take one last look at his bed and found that there was a cage with a rare, completely black owl sitting inside of it (A/N: Is there such a thing as an all black owl? I have no idea but pretend there is in this story :)). Beside the cage sat a note carefully scrawled by none other than the great Houdini himself.
"Dear Ron:
I know you're probably wondering where I am. I'm sorry I couldn't be there to say goodbye, but I don't think we should be saying goodbye. It's just like you going home for the holidays, right? You'll be back, I know it. And when you do come back, we'll finish this thing with Voldemort for good. The owl is on loan from Sirius and Dumbledore helped me enchant it. It doesn't talk or anything cool like that, but it can fly better than a Firebolt. Speaking of which, my broom's in my chest, take it with you. See you at the end of break. By the way, your Christmas present is sitting on top of the broom. Promise you won't open it until Christmas morning. Also, feed the owl good food or it'll start hooting loudly. Leave its cage open and by the window. Dumbledore says it's a really active owl and likes its freedom. Don't worry though. I didn't tell him it was for you or that you were going to Bulgaria. He thinks it's so that Sirius and I can communicate faster. Anyways, have a Happy Christmas and tell Hermione I say the same to her. I'll see you both back here at the start of the new term.
Not saying goodbye,
Harry.
P.S. I know you won't be needing the Marauders' map, but take the invisibility cloak, you know, just in case."
Ron turned back towards Harry's chest and opened it. Inside he found the cloak folded up and placed next to the broomstick. On top of the broomstick sat an envelope addressed to "Ricky and Heather," the names Hermione and Ron had chosen for each other while they were "under cover." The fact that his name sounded very much like Vicky didn't get passed Ron, and it had caused a rather loud row in the common room, which led to his picking a name for her that rhymed with Fluer. Hermione said he was being childish but agreed to keep the name if he kept Ricky. Ron smiled and put the "present" along with the cloak in his trunk, grabbed the broom and started to leave. He was stopped at the doorway by a loud "Hoot!" and he realized that he had almost forgotten the owl. Carrying everything down to the carriages felt like an impossible feat but eventually he descended the 7 floors and made it outside to where Hermione was waiting for him.
"Do you have the money?"
Startled, she turned around to see Ron still holding onto everything. "What's that," she pointed to the owl.
"Harry put it on my bed. Said we were supposed to send this owl to him if anything went wrong."
"I thought he said he was going to think of something faster to use."
Ron shrugged. "It's enchanted or something. He said Dumbledore made it fly faster than a Firebolt. He left very specific instructions for taking care of it. You'd think it the prince of all owls or something. Do you have the money," he repeated.
"Of course, my parents sent it last week. Oh! Here come the carriages."
Ron's immense displeasure Neville joined them in their carriage ruling out any discussion of the plans until they were on the train. As soon as they found a compartment to themselves they began hurriedly running over the plan. Once they landed at the station they were going to wait with each other "for their parents." Once all of the students had left Hermione would head up to the ticketing booth and buy tickets for both of them while Ron would stand guard over their things. Once they were safely inside a compartment on the train Ron would use a charm to turn his hair dark brown and Hermione would enchant hers to turn blonde. Neither was particularly thrilled about it, but Harry had suggested they go incognito and they had to agree that it was a good idea. Ron had been wondering all week what it would be like to be the Ricky-The-Brunette-from-London. Just as Ron was about to tease Hermione about her choice of hair color the door to their compartment slid open to reveal a very red-faced Neville.
"Malfoy came in and took my compartment. Told me if I knew what was good for me I'd find somewhere else. Do you guys mind if I join you?"
"Uh, actually—"
"Of course we wouldn't mind, Neville," Hermione said shooting a warning glance to Ron. "Come on in."
The three sat discussing Christmas, Quidditch, presents, and their excitement to be seeing family again and Neville stayed on with them the whole ride back. Ron tried several attempts to get Neville to seek another compartment but the glares from Hermione finally convinced him it would be better to give up.
**
"Look Neville! It's your grandmother!" Ron had never been so excited to see an elderly lady before in his life. Neville had decided that he also going to wait with them for their parents and was going on non-stop about his grandmother and their plans during break. Neville ran up to the older lady but left his things with Ron and Hermione. Ron raised his eyebrow in question to Hermione, but she just shrugged. A moment later Neville and Mrs. Longbottom walked over to the two but neither reached for the trunk.
"Granny's agreed to wait with you guys for your parents!"
Hermione turned and threw a panic stricken look to Ron.
"Er, thank you Mrs. Longbottom, but that won't be necessary," Ron assured her. "They'll be here any second now. I'm sure you'll be wanting to get Neville home and get started on all those Christmas plans."
"Oh it's ok," Neville said. "It wouldn't be right to leave Hermione here waiting alone."
"But I'm not alone, Neville, Ron's with me. And I'm sure his mum will be more than happy to wait with me if my parent's haven't gotten here by then."
"Yeah," Ron continued. "She won't be alone, don't worry."
Ron thought he saw Neville glare at him for a moment, but the look vanished from his face as quickly as it had appeared. "Oh, ok then. Well, Happy Christmas!"
"Well, we're going to have to start a Hermione Granger Fan Club if you're not careful," Ron said as soon as Neville was out of earshot.
"What is that supposed to mean," she snapped.
"Seems like everyone's getting a crush on you all of the sudden."
"What are you
talking about?"
"First Vicky and now Neville. I
wonder who will fall for you next."
Hermione stood up promptly and threw the things she was holding at Ron. "I don't know what's gotten into you Ronald Weasley, but I'm going to buy our tickets. I hope you use an aging charm by the time I get back because I don't want to spend hours with you on a train if you're going to act like that and bring him up again!"
With that she turned and walked through the barrier back onto the muggle train platform and went to buy the tickets. Ron sat there, ears red, fuming over the sudden turn of the tide.
**
The ride to Bulgaria was a relatively quiet one. They changed into muggle clothes in the train's rest rooms and did the hair charms in the compartment. It took several tries before Ron found a shade of dark brown that fit his skin color. When Hermione was finally done she was unrecognizable. Not only did she charm her hair to turn blonde but she had also found a spell to make it sleeker and straighter than it usually was. Ron wondered why she had never used that spell at Hogwarts. She looked nice with calmer hair. Not that the big hair looked bad—it looked quite nice actually but—why was he thinking like this? Ron shook his head and turned his attention to the window where an endless series of fields were sweeping by.
"Once we get to the station," Hermione's words interrupted his thoughts, "We'll find our guide."
"Our guide?"
"Well, yes. You couldn't have thought we'd be flying all the way to Grad Sofiya on our own! How would we know the way? How would we know when we'd gone too far? It isn't as if the provinces and towns have neon lights in the sky marking them you know!"
"I just thought that we'd, well, I guess I never actually thought about it."
"Well, I've arranged for someone to lead us to the wizard town at the foot of the mountain. We'll stay there for the night and set out the next day to find the cave. Once we have the feather, we can go home."
"The sooner the better," Ron muttered. He had a bad feeling about this. "How can you be sure you can trust this, er, guide?"
"Ron, stop worrying. It will be fine. Just trust me."
Ron played nervously with the buttons on his muggle shirt and looked out the window. You know, you have two weeks alone with her, he thought.
What??!??!?? Where did that come from? We're here for the feather. Once we get the feather, we're going home, I'm getting my red hair back and I'm forgetting Bulgaria ever existed.
He looked over to where Hermione sat. She had turned sideways on the seat so that her back was against the wall so she could bring her feet up onto the seat. Nestled in her lap sat a large book and she was reading.I can't believe she's reading. She's on holiday for heaven's sake!
Blonde hair agrees with her.
What??!??!??
It's not as nice as her brown hair of course. It's nice in a different way. She looks…different. Girly.
Ron nearly fell off his seat.
Ok, look. I don't know where you're coming from, but get OUT OF MY HEAD!!!!!
Sorry! I was just saying—
OUT!!!
Ok, ok.
"Are you all right?"
Ron shot his head up and looked at a very blonde and very concerned looking Hermione. "I'm fine, thanks. I just, almost fell asleep there for a second." He laughed nervously and ran a hand through his brown hair.
"I like your hair that color," she said.
She likes my hair!
Shut up you prat! It's not even my hair remember?
Oh, right.
"Ron?"
"Oh, right. Thank you. Yours looks nice too. Not that it doesn't always look nice, but you know, it looks nice like that too." Where did that come from????? "I liked it better when it was all bushy." He hoped this corrected his momentary lapse of judgment but one look at her hurt and angry expression assured him that he had, indeed, shoved the foot much farther into his mouth.
Brilliant. Way to go Casanova.
Who asked you anyways?
"'All bushy?'"
"Wait, that's not what I meant."
"Well then what did you mean?"
"I just meant…" How do I say this?
Tell her she's pretty!
Have you gone batty?
Tell her she's pretty!
If you don't shut up right now—
Tell her she's pretty!I'm warning you!
Tell her she's pretty!That's it!
"You're pretty." What??!??!??
Is that how you always punish? 'Cuz if so, I may do that more often.Why you little—!
"Er, what I meant to say was that I like your hair the way it normally is. I think it, you know, suits you." See? Now that was so hard was it?
"Thank you," she said. She quickly stuck her head back into the large book she was holding and resumed her heading. If Ron had looked closely he would have seen a slight blush on her cheeks and that she had been reading the same page for the last hour, but he was too deep in his own thoughts to notice.
**
Hermione looked around, nervously biting her lip. They had been waiting at the platform for nearly a quarter of an hour and their "guide" had still not shown up.
"Hermione—"
"Heather," she corrected.
"Right. Heather, why are we still here?"
"Because we're waiting for—"
"Hermy-own-ninny!"
Oh. My. God.
Oh. My. God.
"Viktor! Hello!"
A tall, lanky man with dark hair, a crooked nose, and sunken eyes approached them. "Ver you vaitink for long?"
"No, we just got here," she lied.
Once he reached them he threw his arms around her and gave her a big hug.
"I have been missink you. I almost did not recognize you. Vhat is in your hair?"
"Oh, do you like it? I guess I was looking for a little variety." Hermione threw a nervous glance at Ron.
Ron didn't move. His face was paler than it had ever been and she was afraid he would throw a tantrum right there in the middle of the train station.
Viktor, noticing her gaze, turned to Ron as well. "Hello," he greeted. "My name is Viktor, and you are?" He held out a massively large hand with long crooked fingers to Ron.
"Uh, Viktor, that's R—"
"Ricky," Ron interrupted her. He stood up and took Viktor's hand. He had grown over the past year and was taller and broader than he was when he had first met Viktor. The two now stood head-to-head. Ron was sure that Viktor didn't recognize him, especially with his newly brown hair. "Ricky Weatherby." He shook Viktor's hand hard, determined to leave an impression in his fist forever.
"Vell, it is very nice meetink you. A friend of Hermy-own-ninny is alvays velcome." He withdrew his hand and grabbed Hermione's trunk. "Let us go to my home for now. I think you are right Hermy-own-ninny. It is a good idea to vait until midnight before ve fly."
Ron looked down at his watch and lifted an eyebrow. "Uh, Viktor, it's 10 pm. Wouldn't it be better to just find a pub or restaurant somewhere and just wait until midnight?"
"Uh, don't you think Hermy-own-ninny is too young to be in pub?"
"Ah, yes, I forgot about our young little Hermione," Ron laughed and the furious expression on her face. "Well, how about a nice restaurant then?"
"What was that all abut, Ricky," Hermione whispered as Viktor lead them to a nearby restaurant.
"You said we should disguise ourselves. The fewer people who know who we are the better," he shrugged.
Ron spent the entire two hours at the restaurant listening to Viktor's rant about the current state of international Quidditch and his hopes to be traded to the British team. For the first time in his life, he found a conversation about Quidditch utterly shallow and mind numbingly boring. He couldn't understand how Hermione could like someone as mindless, egotistical and self-centered as—
"Ricky," Viktor's voice shook Ron back to his senses. "I vas askink if you vere ready to go?"
"Oh, right. Ready as I'll ever be." Ron saw Viktor reach into his pocket to get some money to pay the bill and stopped him. "Allow me," he said puffing out his chest. He reached down into his pocket only to realize he didn't have a single sickle on him. "Hermione, may I have my pouch please?"
"What pouch?"
"The one with all the money in it," he said looking into her eyes with meaning.
"Er right. Here," she pulled out the pouch with Harry's money and handed it over to Ron. She had to bite her tongue from laughing when she saw that he was pulling out galleons to set on the table. "This is a muggle restaurant," she whispered.
"So?"
"So they don't take galleons!"
"Oh, right. Of course. I knew that, I was simply moving the galleons out of my way so that I could get to the muggle money in here."
He reached down and pulled out some British notes and laid them down on the table triumphantly. This time she let herself laugh outright. "R-Ricky we're in Bulgaria. They don't take British money here."
"Oh, of course." His ears were so hot he were afraid they were going t be charred by the time they got out of the restaurant. "Em, Viktor, listen, could you spot me enough to cover this?"
"Vhat? Spot?"
"Loan," Ron explained, exasperated. "Can I borrow some money," he said raising his voice as though he thought if he spoke louder the "foreigner" would understand his words better.
"Oh, of course." Viktor held out a rather large wad of money and helped Ron count out the appropriate amount. When Ron had finally placed the money on the table the three of them walked out into the open air.
"Vell, have you brought brooms?"
"Of course we have," Ron said huffily. He opened his trunk and pulled out the Firebolt Harry had loaned him. He stood up proudly brandishing the expensive broom.
"Er, Ricky," Hermione said.
"Yes?"
"What about me?"
"You? Oh! You!" He turned back to his trunk and began digging for his Shooting Star. When he didn't find it underneath the cloak, he emptied out the entire contents of his trunk onto the floor. "I don't understand it," he said as he pulled out article after article. "I specifically remember putting it in here…well, I mean I think I remember it…" Suddenly he paled when he realized that the broom he remembered putting in his trunk as the one he was holding in his arm. He looked down at the Firebolt. "I—I think I forgot it," he said quietly. Brilliant. Bloody brilliant!
"Oh, I only brought vone," he said holding up a beautiful broom made of wood that looked so vibrant it was as if it were still connected to it's roots. A glint in the light caught Ron's eye and he saw tiny writing at the end of the broom that read "Nimbus 2002." Great, he thought. I can't win. "All right, vell, Hermy-own-ninny, you vill ride vith me. I vill take as much of your tinks as I can, and da rest Ricky, you vill be so kind as to take, no?"
"Er, right, of course." Ron looked at Hermione. She looked a little anxious and blushed slightly.
"Oh. Well, all right. I supposed it's the only way." She threw a look to Ron that looked almost—what was it? Apologetic? No. She seemed to be searching for something. Permission? Was she asking permission? Why should I care? He thought. It's not like she's my girlfriend. She's his girlfriend. She can ride with her boyfriend if she wants. Ron avoided looking at her while they walked around the buildings to a secluded alley where they loaded the broomsticks and kicked off the ground. Viktor and Hermione rode in front and Ron followed them. It was torture watching Viktor's arms around Hermione.
He shouldn't be riding like that with her.
And why not? She has every right to ride however she wants with whoever she wants.
She has not!
And what are you going to do about it? Go over there and sweep her off her broom?
If I have to—yes!
Have you lost your mind?
Ugh! She shouldn't be riding like that with him! She should be riding with me!
Oh really?
Yes! I'm the one who taught her how to get comfortable with riding in the first place! Where was he when his girlfriend was in need of riding lessons?
In Bulgaria.
Exactly! Thousands of miles away in Bulgaria.
Exactly. Thousands of miles away, in Bulgaria, practicing Quidditch with the second best team in the Wizarding world on a broom faster and better than the one you've got.
Well you don't have to rub it in!
By the time they arrived at Mount Vitosha Ron's mood had gotten even worse. He strode silently into the Inn behind Viktor and Hermione and stood several feet away as Viktor spoke with the wizard behind the counter in Bulgarian (A/N: Guess what? I did some research and the language is really called Bulgarian! Yay! I got something right!). He came back looking a little disgruntled and walked over to Ron.
"He says it vill cost two galleons a night for each room."
Hermione smiled and thanked Viktor and pulled Ron aside. "Ron, we can't afford that! We can't afford four galleons a night."
"We can't?"
"No!"
"Haven't we got enough for that?"
"Well, what if we need to buy something else? We'll have no money left over for food or supplies or anything."
"You're assuming we'll be here for the whole two weeks," he reminded.
"You're assuming we won't. You have no idea how long it'll take us to find the cave. We may not find it for a week," her voice got quieter and she leaned in even closer to him. "We may not even find it at all."
"Well what do you propose we do?"
She looked at him with a blank expression on her face. "Well, I should think it's perfectly clear."
"It is?"
"We have to share a room."
"You're joking."
"Do you have a better idea?"
"Fine, but we get two beds!"
For the second time that night she looked at him as if she were dealing with a five-year-old child. "Of course we will. Now, give me the pouch"
"What pouch?"
"Your pouch 'the one with all the money in it'," she reminded him.
"Oh," his ears turned pink and he reached into his pocket sheepishly for the pouch. "Here."
As she and Viktor went back to the desk to sort things out Ron took a moment to look around the Inn. It was made entirely of wood with several fireplaces burning with emerald green fires and flowerpots on the mantles above them. Floo Powder, he thought. Wish I'd thought of that before we got good old Vicky to fly us out here. The place was decorated modestly with several rugs patterned in white, black, red, and green. He found them utterly tacky but was sure Bulgarians would find British decorations equally displeasing.
"Vell," a gruff voice said from behind him. Ron noted a sudden tone of hostility in Viktor's voice. "This is vere I leave you." He turned to Hermione and gave her a hug. If he weren't already leaving Ron would have grabbed him by the shoulders and thrown him out of the Inn. He released her and didn't even stop to shake Ron's hand as he passed by him. "Ricky," he nodded as he passed Ron by.
"Thank you Viktor," Hermione called out to him, and Ron noticed that he didn't bother to turn and acknowledge her. "Good bye!"
"Er, right. Goodbye," Ron said.
Viktor walked over to one of the emerald fires, took a pinch of glittering powder from the flowerpot and threw it in. The fire roared higher and Viktor stepped in. Within a matter of moments he was gone.
"What was that all about," Ron said turning to Hermione who looked a bit flustered.
"I'll tell you abut it when we get upstairs, Honey," she said as she took his hand.
Shocked, Ron followed her up the stairs to the third floor and down a corridor. "Our things have already been brought up for us, Dear, isn't that lovely?" Said as she fumbled with the key. When she finally got the door to open she swung it open wildly, threw him and slammed the door behind her.
"What on earth is going on here," Ron demanded.
"They're on to us?"
"What?!?"
"When we went to get the room, the man behind the counter looked at the back of your head and said, 'Ah, Harry Potter!'" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Yeah," she continued. "So I had to say something." She suddenly found the floor deeply interesting "I got panicked, you know."
"Hermione," he said hesitantly, "What did you do?"
"I said 'Oh, no, that's my fiancé, Ricky Weatherby.' I think it upset Viktor because he turned very red and said he had to go." (A/N: I know they're only 15 in this, but average age for marriage in Bulgaria is 18-25 so it wouldn't be TOO out of the ordinary to see such a young couple, especially in the countryside where age-of-marriage tends to be earlier. Plus, Ron's so tall Viktor thought he was older than Hermione earlier remember?…so it's not too far off is it? Oh just pretend it works!)
If it were possible for Ron to fall over and die from shock he would have done it. And then he would have promptly stood up, and fallen over a second time. And he would have continued to do so until someone stopped him by putting him out of his misery with an Avada Kedavra curse. She said we're engaged?!?
Don't get any bright ideas there, Loverboy. She was covering for us.
The black owl that Harry had given him seemed to be thinking the same thing because suddenly he began hooting like mad in his cage.
"Fiancé?" was all he could stammer.
"Well I had to say something! Someone knew that someone having something to do with Harry Potter would be here! How could they have known? What is going on here, Ron!?"
"Hoot! Hoot!"
But Ron's attention had been diverted. He was staring out at the middle of the room. There, against the center of the back wall, between a table and a rug sat one, massive bed. Not two twins, but one Queen sized bed—the kind fiancés use. "Um, Hermione, don't you think you're taking this whole fiancé thing too far?"
"Ron what are you talking about?" she spun around to see what he was looking at and gasped. "I—I said two beds! I know I did!"
"Um, right, maybe I should go down there and straighten this up."
"No, it's ok. It would be better for you to lie low. If they see you alone others may think that you're Harry and it'll just bring us trouble. I'll go talk to the manager," and with that she left the room.
"Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!" Ron turned back to the owl sitting on the trunks the hotel had magicked up for them.
"They were probably brought up by House-Elfs!" He put his finger over his mouth in a gesture to indicate secrecy, "Shh! Don't tell Hermione. She'll have a fit!"
"Hoot! Hoot! Hoot!"
"You're telling me!" Ron sat on the bed beside the trunk and opened the cage. The great owl flew out of it immediately and began circling the room. When it heard Hermione fumbling with the keys again it flew back into it's cage and sat quietly, as if it were awaiting the move. "Smart owl," Ron mumbled as he rose and walked over to the door. "Who is it," he asked in a high-pitched singsong voice.
"Her—Heather."
"We don't know any Heathers," he replied still speaking in falsetto.
"For goodness sakes, Ricky, let me in!" she sounded furious.
Ron opened the door and she came in and closed it behind her. "We're not moving, are we?" he asked, looking at the furious expression on her face. If there was one thing that irritated Hermione, it was not being able to figure out a solution to a situation. Well, that and him mentioning Vicky.
"No. He said he didn't have any more double beds left, but judging by the smile on his face I think he was lying."
"Hermione, why would he lie to you?"
"I don't know. To infuriate me? To get me alone with the famous Harry Potter!"
"I'm not Harry Potter, I'm Ricky Weatherby, remember?"
"Oh shut up!"
"So what are we going to do? Are they going to bring up any cots?"
"Apparently they don't have any of those either. He looked at me like I'd gone half-mad when I asked for one, but he did say he'd send some blankets up," she winced, "with a house-elf."
Ron smiled, "so that's what's got you all upset!"
"Can it," she said. "Now, help me unpack all this stuff." With that she marched over to the trunks sitting beside the bed, leaving Ron still standing in the doorway watching her with a grin on his face.
