Disclaimer: Oh, what's the point? It's not mine. Don't sue--I've only got my lunch money.
A/N: I got so many nice reviews! *dances around the room, attracting strange looks from family* Thanks
to everyone! Oh, and I just have to do this, because...Well, I dunno why. Go read Ebony Foxfire's "In
The Center of the Trophy Room" if you haven't--I'm assuming anyone keeping up with this drivel likes
R/H fluff, and I told Ebony to post it, and believe me, it DEFINES R/H fluff. Plus it's amazingly cute.
I'll be on medication for a bit, I think. I may be coming down with strep throat. *everyone backs away
in fear of contamination* Anyway, I'll be able to keep writing this stuff. I've written down my Sudafed-
induced plotline.
A'right, I'll shut up now. Please do review--I promise not to beg anymore. For this part.
Lost
Part 5
By Veralidaine
"Well, we were thinking..." Harry paused, watching Hermione stir her oatmeal around her bowl listlessly.
He cleared his throat and began again. "Sirius and I were thinking that, since he's been cleared and I'm
going to go live with him, you could come to, if you like."
Hermione looked up abruptly. "D'you...D'you mean it?"
"No," Sirius said earnestly, before dropping his hands to his sides and breaking into a rather sarcastic
smile. "Hermione, if we didn't mean it, would we really offer it? OF COURSE we mean it..."
And, for the first time since he'd arrived the day before, Harry saw Hermione smile. "Thank you..."
Well, at least she wasn't TOO depressed anymore...She had somewhere to live. Now they only needed to
work on her eating habits. And sleeping. Yes, that too.
Ron, sitting next to Hermione, heaved a great sigh but didn't say anything. Harry supposed he'd been
hoping that Hermione would stay at the Weasleys. By the way his friend kept glancing at her, Harry was
sure that they'd made up over their recent little incident and were back to sneaking nervous little
glances at each other when they thought no one was looking. So at least THAT was resolved...
Hermione picked up a spoonful of her oatmeal, examined it for a moment, then let it plop right back into
her bowl, where it was now growing cold. Ron cleared his throat and she glanced at him. "You're not
going to eat that, are you?"
Hermione sighed and shook her head, sending the usual whisps of hair into her face. "No, I'm not hungry.
D'you want it?"
Ron shook his head, shooting Harry a worried glance. "No...You really ought to--"
Hermione had caught his eyes with hers and he stopped, looking even more worried when she looked away.
Hermione turned to Harry. "Well, when are you two heading back to your house?"
"Well, we've not got one yet," Sirius muttered, cramming a few strips of bacon into his mouth, acting
quite dog-like. "So today I'm going to go see what's available. I'll be staying in London, so it'll be
you lot staying here for tonight, I think."
"Yes, and you're to behave," Mrs. Weasley added, entering the kitchen and pointing a wand at the sinkful
of dishes, which started washing themselves. "I'll be helping Sirius pick out a decent house for you
three, since he seems a tad out of practice." She shot him a none-too-serious glare.
Sirius held up his hands defensively. "Look, *I* thought that flat was nice."
"It didn't have a kitchen."
"And when have I ever cooked?" He laughed. "No, I know what you're getting at, Molly. And you're right.
I'm glad for your help."
Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes and hung her apron on a hook on the wall. "Well. Whenever you're ready to
go, Sirius, we'd best get moving if we want to have all day to house shop." She turned back to the three
teenagers sitting at the table. "It'll just be you lot and Ginny, I'm afraid. Your father's out tonight
on Ministry business." She glanced meaningfully at Sirius, who nodded. Harry sighed. As if it wasn't
obvious--Dumbledore was obviously still working with Mr. Weasley from inside the ministry.
"Anyway," Mrs. Weasley continued, "We'll be getting rooms at the Leaky Cauldron, so you can reach us
there. And I swear, if I come back to find the house in ruins or-or Ginny hanging from the ceiling
again--"
"Aw, Mum," Ron interrupted, "that was just a bit of fun...And besides," he added, seeing how her eyes
narrowed dangerously, "it was Fred and George what did it, not me."
"Right," Mrs. Weasley muttered grumpily. "Well..."
***
At about seven-thirty that evening, Hermione stood up from the kitchen table where she'd been reading
the Daily Prophet's latest edition and headed into the living room. Once in the doorway, she stopped,
surprised at what she saw. "You guys have a TV?"
Ginny shrugged. "Yeah, sort of. Dad got one about a month ago and we figured out that all you have to do
is prod the plug-thing with your wand and it starts up."
Hermione very much doubted that they could pick up any sort of signal with a magically-energized TV, but
she was wrong. Within about five minutes of swerving the antennae around with a determined expression on
her little freckled face, Ginny sat back, grinning, as a picture fizzled to life on the screen. "There,"
she said, glancing up at Hermione. "I think it's a movie, isn't it?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You know about movies? Do you take Muggle studies?"
Ginny shook her head. "Nope. Dad."
"Oh," Hermione said, nodding. "I see. Where's Ron?"
"Up in his room," Harry said, squinting at the TV. "Why don't you go see if he wants to join us."
Hermione nodded and started up the stairs. At the end of the hallway was the familiar door with the
plaque on it saying, "Ronald's Room." Ron's door stood slightly ajar, and the fierce scratching of a
quill on parchment was coming from inside. Hermione quietly peeked in to see what he was up to. He was
bent over his rickety old desk, a recent addition to his room, scribbling something on a sheet of
parchment and looking quite busy. Hermione quietly stepped inside and closed the door behind her,
waiting to see if he'd notice. He didn't.
She cleared her throat, and he looked up. "Pardon my intrusion," she said, smiling, "but I'm curious as
to what you're working on."
He snorted. "'Pardon my intrusion?' What century are you from?"
She grinned, probably for the first time in days, and walked over to his desk, looking at the paper. It
was headed, "The Process of Becoming an Animagus, by Ronald Weasley." Hermione looked up at him. "For
Professor McGonagall, right?"
He nodded. "Yeah, she assigns too much holiday work, if you ask me."
Hermione sighed. "Yes, well, Ron, I've heard that much from you before." She looked back and started to
read through it. "Well, there's a spelling error here--that's supposed to be I before E. And you might
want to rephrase this here; it sounds sort of odd. Also, there's--"
"Slow down a bit, Professor Granger," he interrupted, leaning over the desk so his face was level with
hers. Those clear blue eyes were almost overwhelming. He grinned at her. "You and your proofreading. How
d'you manage to do yours AND correct mine?"
Hermione smiled tartly before something occurred to her. Her eyes grew wide and Ron shot her a confused
look. "What?"
"Oh...Oh, no...Ron, I...When the house burned down...My-My homework..."
He took her hand and squeezed it before she could work herself up into a proper fit. "'Mione, I already
talked to McGonagall about it. She says that since you always do it anyway, she's sure you did, and so
you don't have to worry about it. Full marks, as usual."
She wasn't sure why she was so utterly relieved. Maybe because it was something she DIDN'T have to worry
about for once. Or perhaps it was just because he'd actually cared enough to do that for her when she
didn't even say anything to him about it. And when she'd been spending the days sleeping. And yelling at
him.
Whatever the reason, she couldn't help herself and decided she simply had to give him a hug.
***
Ron was a tad surprised at the way she'd reacted to that. After all, he would have done much more for
her if he could have. He hadn't really done it to be the hero; just because it occurred to him that she
would get upset when it finally hit her that her homework was gone. Of course, he still hadn't figured
out quite what to do when she remembered Crookshanks...He didn't know where the cat was, or whether it
was even alive.
But since recently he'd been the giver of hugs and not the receiver, he forgot about all of the other
problems and tried to control the rapid beating of his heart as she slid her hands up over his shoulders
and around his neck. He'd forgotten how pleasantly nervous it made him, to be touched like that. And
how much he'd missed it. For just a moment, he was shot back to about a year ago, when they'd first
acknowledged their feelings for each other, and just having her near him was enough to send him into
dizzy spells.
As he slipped his arms around her waist, she looked up at him. "Ron, I...Thank you for putting up with
me. You're wonderful."
He shrugged, embarrassed. "Nah...I mean...For awhile there I was fairly dreadful to you, but you still
were my friend, regardless of what a bleeding idiot I was."
"Watch your language, and you're not a 'bleeding idiot,'" Hermione said softly, smiling lightly. "You've
taken care of me, haven't you? The bossy, know-it-all, bushy-haired teachers' pet who is, as I recall,
'a nightmare, honestly.'" Ron laughed at her attempt to mimic his speech pattern. She smiled somewhat
lopsidedly. "I mean, if you can deal with me, then certainly you're not a bleeding idiot..." She trailed
off there as they had been getting gradually closer to each other, and Ron finally leaned over slightly
and kissed her full on the mouth.
They'd only kissed twice, really, since they'd become "a couple," and Ron had to admit to himself that
this had to have been the best time yet. He tightened his arms around her waist and she slid her hands
down onto his shoulders, and they pulled apart, just staring at each other. Finally, Ron shook his head
slightly to clear it and blinked. "Uh...What was it you actually came up here to tell me?"
They both dissolved into soft giggles and Hermione shook her head. "Uh...Oh, yeah. Ginny's set up the TV
and they want us to come watch a movie with them, if you're not too busy with homework."
"Depends on your definition of homework," Ron muttered, looking straight into those brown eyes, then he
cringed. "Bugger...I just said that out loud, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did," Hermione giggled, looking fairly amused. "But then, you never were one for hiding what
you were thinking, were you?"
"What?" he said indignantly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She grinned. "Nothing..." she muttered, pulling away from him and slumping down on his bed. "So, about
the movie...?"
"Oh, yeah," he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Well, I s'pose. But I swear to God, if
Ginny makes me watch that one Muggle flick about the boat sinking ONE MORE TIME..."
Hermione laughed right out at this, but quickly caught herself and stifled it. "You mean 'Titanic?'" She
giggled again. "Yes, well, I can see how it would get on your nerves..."
"Well, why didn't she just cast a heating charm--he wouldn't've died, then, would he?"
Hermione shook her head, obviously not wanting to go through explaining it to him, and Ron just shrugged
and dropped his hands to his sides. "Well, fine. I guess I'll go watch their movie."
"Good. I think they'll be pleased."
Ron snorted, not really looking forward to another evening of watching Muggles make idiots of themselves
onscreen. It got old, after awhile. He shook his head, still trying to figure out exactly why they
hadn't been able to just waterproof the darn ship.
***
Harry sat on the rather lumpy old sofa and sighed, not really watching the movie. He'd seen Star Wars
before, and after a rather long try at explaining to Ginny how "The Force" was a little different than
magic, he just gave up and let her yell things like, "Oh, that was stupid, why not just stun him?" and
"Oh, come on, he could've used a summoning charm on him!" at the television screen.
He looked up at the stairs as he heard footsteps, and grinned as Ron and Hermione entered the living
room, looking a tad red in the face. As it had been a good fifteen minutes since he'd sent Hermione up,
Harry had a pretty good guess as to why they were both looking so very happy. He rolled his eyes and
went back to listening to Ginny yell at Luke Skywalker: "Why not just use a wand? It's much easier than
that sword thing, I'm sure..."
He was just drifting off to sleep when suddenly, a tiny sting in his forehead made his eyes snap open.
It wasn't a really painful sort of sting, just sort of annoying, really. He decided it wasn't much to
worry about and attempted to sleep again. Once more, just as he closed his eyes, his scar stung again,
but stronger this time. He shook his head and sat up, not sure what to think, but the pain ceased as
soon as he sat up, so he slumped back down in his seat, brow furrowed. He'd never had this sort of pain
before--it was always immediate and strong, not gradual, like this. What did it mean?
Suddenly, it stung again, and this time it really did hurt. "Ow," he muttered, putting one hand up to
his forehead.
Hermione, who was sitting between him and Ron on the sofa, looked at him. "Harry, is something--"
She never got a chance to finish, as suddenly a blinding pain shot through his scar and seemingly all
the way down his spine. He yelped and clutched at his forehead, cringing against the pain. Then, just as
suddenly as it had started, it stopped. He sat up, panting, to see Hermione and Ron staring anxiously at
him and Ginny, face lit dimly by the TV screen, looking quite scared.
"Well," Ron began quietly, "It doesn't necessarily mean...Because, I mean, doesn't it hurt whenever You-
Know-Who's in a bad mood? I mean, it doesn't really mean that he's, like..." He trailed off, looking
nervous. "D'you think we're in any danger?"
Harry shook his head, confused. "I'm not sure...I mean, it was different this time. It wasn't all at
once, like usual. It got steadily stronger, and it stopped every few seconds. I dunno what it means,
really..."
"D'you think it might have to do with...with the Death Eaters?" Hermione asked softly, eyes not leaving
his face. Harry had forgotten--she was probably scared stiff of Death Eaters now that she'd experienced
them firsthand. He shrugged and Hermione grabbed a nearby pillow and hugged it to her chest, looking
rather nervous.
Ron slipped an arm around her shoulders and turned back to Harry, who was too busy thinking to mock his
friend. "What d'you think caused it?"
"Dunno..." Harry rubbed his scar again, but nothing happened. He settled back in his chair, pretending
not to notice the nervous glances his friends kept shooting at him.
***
Tap, tap, tap.
Hermione sat up just barely, not wanting to leave the warmth that was Ron's shoulder. Groggily, she
looked over at the TV. Another movie was playing--Titanic, from the looks of it. Vaguely, she figured it
must have been a 24-hour movie channel or something. How they'd managed to get it using the TV antennae
was a mystery to her. She snuggled down again, shooting a quick glance at Ginny, who had fallen asleep
on the floor in front of the TV, to Harry, who was using the sofa's armrest as a pillow. Then she yawned
and let her head droop back onto Ron's shoulder.
Tap, tap, tap.
It was a very soft sound, and she wondered how it had even woken her, as she'd been so deeply asleep.
Aggrivated, and still a bit scared after the episode earlier that evening, Hermione looked up at the
window. There wasn't an owl there, so she could only assume that it was a treebranch, or something
equally harmless. Well, she hoped it was.
Tap, tap...clunk.
Now she sat up. That had come from upstairs. Maybe she was just imagining it, but...No, those were most
definitely footsteps. Coming down the hallway. She heard someone on the steps and shook Ron awake. He
groaned slightly and she shushed him. He sat up as he recognized the sound of footsteps and looked over
in the direction of the stairs. There was a rather loud squeak as whoever it was stepped on the last
stair, and someone clothed all in black appeared on the landing, pointing his highly-polished wand at
them.
A/N: MUAHAHAHAHAHA! A cliffhanger! Bad, naughty, WICKED Veralidaine! Well, not a very GOOD cliffhanger,
but a cliffhanger nonetheless. Care to take any guesses as to who it is? Hmm?
I'll try to get the next part posted later tonight or possibly tomorrow morning. Promise.
~ Veralidaine
A/N: I got so many nice reviews! *dances around the room, attracting strange looks from family* Thanks
to everyone! Oh, and I just have to do this, because...Well, I dunno why. Go read Ebony Foxfire's "In
The Center of the Trophy Room" if you haven't--I'm assuming anyone keeping up with this drivel likes
R/H fluff, and I told Ebony to post it, and believe me, it DEFINES R/H fluff. Plus it's amazingly cute.
I'll be on medication for a bit, I think. I may be coming down with strep throat. *everyone backs away
in fear of contamination* Anyway, I'll be able to keep writing this stuff. I've written down my Sudafed-
induced plotline.
A'right, I'll shut up now. Please do review--I promise not to beg anymore. For this part.
Lost
Part 5
By Veralidaine
"Well, we were thinking..." Harry paused, watching Hermione stir her oatmeal around her bowl listlessly.
He cleared his throat and began again. "Sirius and I were thinking that, since he's been cleared and I'm
going to go live with him, you could come to, if you like."
Hermione looked up abruptly. "D'you...D'you mean it?"
"No," Sirius said earnestly, before dropping his hands to his sides and breaking into a rather sarcastic
smile. "Hermione, if we didn't mean it, would we really offer it? OF COURSE we mean it..."
And, for the first time since he'd arrived the day before, Harry saw Hermione smile. "Thank you..."
Well, at least she wasn't TOO depressed anymore...She had somewhere to live. Now they only needed to
work on her eating habits. And sleeping. Yes, that too.
Ron, sitting next to Hermione, heaved a great sigh but didn't say anything. Harry supposed he'd been
hoping that Hermione would stay at the Weasleys. By the way his friend kept glancing at her, Harry was
sure that they'd made up over their recent little incident and were back to sneaking nervous little
glances at each other when they thought no one was looking. So at least THAT was resolved...
Hermione picked up a spoonful of her oatmeal, examined it for a moment, then let it plop right back into
her bowl, where it was now growing cold. Ron cleared his throat and she glanced at him. "You're not
going to eat that, are you?"
Hermione sighed and shook her head, sending the usual whisps of hair into her face. "No, I'm not hungry.
D'you want it?"
Ron shook his head, shooting Harry a worried glance. "No...You really ought to--"
Hermione had caught his eyes with hers and he stopped, looking even more worried when she looked away.
Hermione turned to Harry. "Well, when are you two heading back to your house?"
"Well, we've not got one yet," Sirius muttered, cramming a few strips of bacon into his mouth, acting
quite dog-like. "So today I'm going to go see what's available. I'll be staying in London, so it'll be
you lot staying here for tonight, I think."
"Yes, and you're to behave," Mrs. Weasley added, entering the kitchen and pointing a wand at the sinkful
of dishes, which started washing themselves. "I'll be helping Sirius pick out a decent house for you
three, since he seems a tad out of practice." She shot him a none-too-serious glare.
Sirius held up his hands defensively. "Look, *I* thought that flat was nice."
"It didn't have a kitchen."
"And when have I ever cooked?" He laughed. "No, I know what you're getting at, Molly. And you're right.
I'm glad for your help."
Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes and hung her apron on a hook on the wall. "Well. Whenever you're ready to
go, Sirius, we'd best get moving if we want to have all day to house shop." She turned back to the three
teenagers sitting at the table. "It'll just be you lot and Ginny, I'm afraid. Your father's out tonight
on Ministry business." She glanced meaningfully at Sirius, who nodded. Harry sighed. As if it wasn't
obvious--Dumbledore was obviously still working with Mr. Weasley from inside the ministry.
"Anyway," Mrs. Weasley continued, "We'll be getting rooms at the Leaky Cauldron, so you can reach us
there. And I swear, if I come back to find the house in ruins or-or Ginny hanging from the ceiling
again--"
"Aw, Mum," Ron interrupted, "that was just a bit of fun...And besides," he added, seeing how her eyes
narrowed dangerously, "it was Fred and George what did it, not me."
"Right," Mrs. Weasley muttered grumpily. "Well..."
***
At about seven-thirty that evening, Hermione stood up from the kitchen table where she'd been reading
the Daily Prophet's latest edition and headed into the living room. Once in the doorway, she stopped,
surprised at what she saw. "You guys have a TV?"
Ginny shrugged. "Yeah, sort of. Dad got one about a month ago and we figured out that all you have to do
is prod the plug-thing with your wand and it starts up."
Hermione very much doubted that they could pick up any sort of signal with a magically-energized TV, but
she was wrong. Within about five minutes of swerving the antennae around with a determined expression on
her little freckled face, Ginny sat back, grinning, as a picture fizzled to life on the screen. "There,"
she said, glancing up at Hermione. "I think it's a movie, isn't it?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You know about movies? Do you take Muggle studies?"
Ginny shook her head. "Nope. Dad."
"Oh," Hermione said, nodding. "I see. Where's Ron?"
"Up in his room," Harry said, squinting at the TV. "Why don't you go see if he wants to join us."
Hermione nodded and started up the stairs. At the end of the hallway was the familiar door with the
plaque on it saying, "Ronald's Room." Ron's door stood slightly ajar, and the fierce scratching of a
quill on parchment was coming from inside. Hermione quietly peeked in to see what he was up to. He was
bent over his rickety old desk, a recent addition to his room, scribbling something on a sheet of
parchment and looking quite busy. Hermione quietly stepped inside and closed the door behind her,
waiting to see if he'd notice. He didn't.
She cleared her throat, and he looked up. "Pardon my intrusion," she said, smiling, "but I'm curious as
to what you're working on."
He snorted. "'Pardon my intrusion?' What century are you from?"
She grinned, probably for the first time in days, and walked over to his desk, looking at the paper. It
was headed, "The Process of Becoming an Animagus, by Ronald Weasley." Hermione looked up at him. "For
Professor McGonagall, right?"
He nodded. "Yeah, she assigns too much holiday work, if you ask me."
Hermione sighed. "Yes, well, Ron, I've heard that much from you before." She looked back and started to
read through it. "Well, there's a spelling error here--that's supposed to be I before E. And you might
want to rephrase this here; it sounds sort of odd. Also, there's--"
"Slow down a bit, Professor Granger," he interrupted, leaning over the desk so his face was level with
hers. Those clear blue eyes were almost overwhelming. He grinned at her. "You and your proofreading. How
d'you manage to do yours AND correct mine?"
Hermione smiled tartly before something occurred to her. Her eyes grew wide and Ron shot her a confused
look. "What?"
"Oh...Oh, no...Ron, I...When the house burned down...My-My homework..."
He took her hand and squeezed it before she could work herself up into a proper fit. "'Mione, I already
talked to McGonagall about it. She says that since you always do it anyway, she's sure you did, and so
you don't have to worry about it. Full marks, as usual."
She wasn't sure why she was so utterly relieved. Maybe because it was something she DIDN'T have to worry
about for once. Or perhaps it was just because he'd actually cared enough to do that for her when she
didn't even say anything to him about it. And when she'd been spending the days sleeping. And yelling at
him.
Whatever the reason, she couldn't help herself and decided she simply had to give him a hug.
***
Ron was a tad surprised at the way she'd reacted to that. After all, he would have done much more for
her if he could have. He hadn't really done it to be the hero; just because it occurred to him that she
would get upset when it finally hit her that her homework was gone. Of course, he still hadn't figured
out quite what to do when she remembered Crookshanks...He didn't know where the cat was, or whether it
was even alive.
But since recently he'd been the giver of hugs and not the receiver, he forgot about all of the other
problems and tried to control the rapid beating of his heart as she slid her hands up over his shoulders
and around his neck. He'd forgotten how pleasantly nervous it made him, to be touched like that. And
how much he'd missed it. For just a moment, he was shot back to about a year ago, when they'd first
acknowledged their feelings for each other, and just having her near him was enough to send him into
dizzy spells.
As he slipped his arms around her waist, she looked up at him. "Ron, I...Thank you for putting up with
me. You're wonderful."
He shrugged, embarrassed. "Nah...I mean...For awhile there I was fairly dreadful to you, but you still
were my friend, regardless of what a bleeding idiot I was."
"Watch your language, and you're not a 'bleeding idiot,'" Hermione said softly, smiling lightly. "You've
taken care of me, haven't you? The bossy, know-it-all, bushy-haired teachers' pet who is, as I recall,
'a nightmare, honestly.'" Ron laughed at her attempt to mimic his speech pattern. She smiled somewhat
lopsidedly. "I mean, if you can deal with me, then certainly you're not a bleeding idiot..." She trailed
off there as they had been getting gradually closer to each other, and Ron finally leaned over slightly
and kissed her full on the mouth.
They'd only kissed twice, really, since they'd become "a couple," and Ron had to admit to himself that
this had to have been the best time yet. He tightened his arms around her waist and she slid her hands
down onto his shoulders, and they pulled apart, just staring at each other. Finally, Ron shook his head
slightly to clear it and blinked. "Uh...What was it you actually came up here to tell me?"
They both dissolved into soft giggles and Hermione shook her head. "Uh...Oh, yeah. Ginny's set up the TV
and they want us to come watch a movie with them, if you're not too busy with homework."
"Depends on your definition of homework," Ron muttered, looking straight into those brown eyes, then he
cringed. "Bugger...I just said that out loud, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did," Hermione giggled, looking fairly amused. "But then, you never were one for hiding what
you were thinking, were you?"
"What?" he said indignantly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She grinned. "Nothing..." she muttered, pulling away from him and slumping down on his bed. "So, about
the movie...?"
"Oh, yeah," he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Well, I s'pose. But I swear to God, if
Ginny makes me watch that one Muggle flick about the boat sinking ONE MORE TIME..."
Hermione laughed right out at this, but quickly caught herself and stifled it. "You mean 'Titanic?'" She
giggled again. "Yes, well, I can see how it would get on your nerves..."
"Well, why didn't she just cast a heating charm--he wouldn't've died, then, would he?"
Hermione shook her head, obviously not wanting to go through explaining it to him, and Ron just shrugged
and dropped his hands to his sides. "Well, fine. I guess I'll go watch their movie."
"Good. I think they'll be pleased."
Ron snorted, not really looking forward to another evening of watching Muggles make idiots of themselves
onscreen. It got old, after awhile. He shook his head, still trying to figure out exactly why they
hadn't been able to just waterproof the darn ship.
***
Harry sat on the rather lumpy old sofa and sighed, not really watching the movie. He'd seen Star Wars
before, and after a rather long try at explaining to Ginny how "The Force" was a little different than
magic, he just gave up and let her yell things like, "Oh, that was stupid, why not just stun him?" and
"Oh, come on, he could've used a summoning charm on him!" at the television screen.
He looked up at the stairs as he heard footsteps, and grinned as Ron and Hermione entered the living
room, looking a tad red in the face. As it had been a good fifteen minutes since he'd sent Hermione up,
Harry had a pretty good guess as to why they were both looking so very happy. He rolled his eyes and
went back to listening to Ginny yell at Luke Skywalker: "Why not just use a wand? It's much easier than
that sword thing, I'm sure..."
He was just drifting off to sleep when suddenly, a tiny sting in his forehead made his eyes snap open.
It wasn't a really painful sort of sting, just sort of annoying, really. He decided it wasn't much to
worry about and attempted to sleep again. Once more, just as he closed his eyes, his scar stung again,
but stronger this time. He shook his head and sat up, not sure what to think, but the pain ceased as
soon as he sat up, so he slumped back down in his seat, brow furrowed. He'd never had this sort of pain
before--it was always immediate and strong, not gradual, like this. What did it mean?
Suddenly, it stung again, and this time it really did hurt. "Ow," he muttered, putting one hand up to
his forehead.
Hermione, who was sitting between him and Ron on the sofa, looked at him. "Harry, is something--"
She never got a chance to finish, as suddenly a blinding pain shot through his scar and seemingly all
the way down his spine. He yelped and clutched at his forehead, cringing against the pain. Then, just as
suddenly as it had started, it stopped. He sat up, panting, to see Hermione and Ron staring anxiously at
him and Ginny, face lit dimly by the TV screen, looking quite scared.
"Well," Ron began quietly, "It doesn't necessarily mean...Because, I mean, doesn't it hurt whenever You-
Know-Who's in a bad mood? I mean, it doesn't really mean that he's, like..." He trailed off, looking
nervous. "D'you think we're in any danger?"
Harry shook his head, confused. "I'm not sure...I mean, it was different this time. It wasn't all at
once, like usual. It got steadily stronger, and it stopped every few seconds. I dunno what it means,
really..."
"D'you think it might have to do with...with the Death Eaters?" Hermione asked softly, eyes not leaving
his face. Harry had forgotten--she was probably scared stiff of Death Eaters now that she'd experienced
them firsthand. He shrugged and Hermione grabbed a nearby pillow and hugged it to her chest, looking
rather nervous.
Ron slipped an arm around her shoulders and turned back to Harry, who was too busy thinking to mock his
friend. "What d'you think caused it?"
"Dunno..." Harry rubbed his scar again, but nothing happened. He settled back in his chair, pretending
not to notice the nervous glances his friends kept shooting at him.
***
Tap, tap, tap.
Hermione sat up just barely, not wanting to leave the warmth that was Ron's shoulder. Groggily, she
looked over at the TV. Another movie was playing--Titanic, from the looks of it. Vaguely, she figured it
must have been a 24-hour movie channel or something. How they'd managed to get it using the TV antennae
was a mystery to her. She snuggled down again, shooting a quick glance at Ginny, who had fallen asleep
on the floor in front of the TV, to Harry, who was using the sofa's armrest as a pillow. Then she yawned
and let her head droop back onto Ron's shoulder.
Tap, tap, tap.
It was a very soft sound, and she wondered how it had even woken her, as she'd been so deeply asleep.
Aggrivated, and still a bit scared after the episode earlier that evening, Hermione looked up at the
window. There wasn't an owl there, so she could only assume that it was a treebranch, or something
equally harmless. Well, she hoped it was.
Tap, tap...clunk.
Now she sat up. That had come from upstairs. Maybe she was just imagining it, but...No, those were most
definitely footsteps. Coming down the hallway. She heard someone on the steps and shook Ron awake. He
groaned slightly and she shushed him. He sat up as he recognized the sound of footsteps and looked over
in the direction of the stairs. There was a rather loud squeak as whoever it was stepped on the last
stair, and someone clothed all in black appeared on the landing, pointing his highly-polished wand at
them.
A/N: MUAHAHAHAHAHA! A cliffhanger! Bad, naughty, WICKED Veralidaine! Well, not a very GOOD cliffhanger,
but a cliffhanger nonetheless. Care to take any guesses as to who it is? Hmm?
I'll try to get the next part posted later tonight or possibly tomorrow morning. Promise.
~ Veralidaine
