Chapter 3: Burrowing In
In which I keep my promise to Olivia – she paid me $2.25 :) - to make Harry like Hermione. Fun love triangle, which will continue until the 5th WD. Then there will be another love triangle tee hee hee. I didn't mean to rhyme, don't kill me. Aagh! I did it again! I better get on to the story...
Olivia says: I want Hermione and Harry to share a passionate kiss (maybe more wink wink nudge nudge say no more).
Alquamor: Fat chance.
Harry stepped out of the Weasleys' fireplace, Mrs. Weasley following close behind him. He had never liked Floo powder, but with years of experience he had finally gained a sense of balance, so that now he never fell over at the end of the trip. For some reason, the Burrow looked different this time – after about a minute, he knew why. There were only four people waiting for him in the kitchen: Mr. Weasley, Fred, Ron, and Ginny. With nine people in the family, the Burrow had often seemed crowded, but now it felt strangely empty.
"Harry!" said Ginny warmly, standing up and giving him a warm hug. "How are you doing?" A straight year of going out with Ira Glatz had left her with only sisterly feelings for him, much to his relief. No more elbows in butter dishes or minor spills when he entered the room!
"Hello, all!" he replied cheerfully,returning Ginny's light embrace and then moving to sit down on an empty chair next to the fireplace. "how've things been here? I expect a full report. All right, Ron?"
"All right," smiled Ron. "But maybe you should tell us about your summer, first. After all, you are the guest." Ron's grin widened as he saw Harry's discomfort. "After all, you are a wonderful public speaker," he teased.
The Weasleys all laughed as Harry's skin color grew closer to theirs by the second. Obviously the little fiasco with the dungbombs had not been forgotten over the summer. "Well," began Harry, trying to save face, "since you seem to have enjoyed that performance so much, perhaps you would like an encore?" He had said it so believably that this remark was met with absolute silence. Ginny started to giggle.
"Oh, come on, Harry, you know we were only joking with you. Anyway, how about your summer?"
They had only talked for about an hour when Mrs. Weasley shooed them out of the kitchen so that she could cook dinner, so Harry followed Ron up to his room. The bright orange walls blinded him, as usual. With a melodramatic sigh, Harry reached into his bag and started putting Magpie posters over the ones Ron currently had up. The black and white on top of the orange gave the room a strange, Halloween-like effect.
"Don't you dare put those up!" said Ron, pretending to be offended. "Keep your sucky Quidditch team away from these winners!" he pointed to his bedspread. Harry responded by grinning and pulling something more from his bag; in a few seconds the orange bedspread with two cannonballs was replaced by a white one with the head of a magpie.
After about fifteen minutes of playful squabbling, Harry packed up his Magpie gear and sat down on the bag, while Ron let himself fall over onto the bed. "So, Ron," he said, "how have things been going this summer?"
"Well, I've been pretty much the same. But almost everybody else is having a lot of success in their jobs! Dad's the same as ever, but Fred, George, Percy, Charlie, and Bill are all moving up the ranks. I don't know much about the last two – they work too far away – but I can tell you about Fred, George, and Percy."
"Shoot."
"Percy, as you know, was working for Mr. Crouch during the fourth year, before... yeah, well, before all that. After a year of confusion, the Ministry has finally worked out the new hierarchy. They still call him 'Weatherby,' but he is now personal assistant to Fudge himself. He seems pretty happy about getting to order dad around, and his salary allows him to live elsewhere, I'm not sure exactly where. He's just an antisocial bastard s.o.b., if you ask me."
"That's an insult to your mom, you know. And how are the Wizard Wheezes coming along?"
"WHAT? Oh, that's right, I almost forgot you spend your summer with muggles. They're the newest sensation, and the entire wizarding world is wild for them. They had enough of a profit after just one year to buy out Zonko's. Now if we want to see the twins, we can just wait for a Hogsmeade trip!"
"But how..."
Harry didn't get to finish his sentence, because at that very moment Fred poked his head in. "Mum's finished supper. She says to come now or you won't get any." The three stumbled quickly down the stairs towards Mrs. Weasley's wonderful cooking.
At the dinner table, Harry had a thought. "Fred?"
"Hmm?"
"Why are you here, but not George?"
"Oh, Ron told you about Hogsmeade, eh? George is there, getting stuff set up for the school season. We didn't buy out Zonko's until about a month ago, see. I'm here to pick up the last of our inventions, the ones we stashed away so mum wouldn't find them."
There was a moment of silence, and then Ron laughed.
"What?"
"Oh, I just remembered of something. Do you remember that time when mum told you two that you weren't going to amount to anything, because you were wasting your time inventing and hadn't gotten enough OWLs?"
Harry and Fred both laughed. "Yes, that is funny, isn't it?" chuckled Harry.
"By the way, you haven't gotten your OWL results back yet, have you?"
"You think I could hide them from mum? No, even you and George couldn't pull that off."
"No, I'm serious. They're normally back by now."
Harry shrugged. "Who knows?"
"Who cares?"
"You certainly will, once mum lights into you for being even worse than me," bantered Fred, who then put on a mocking Mrs. Weasley voice. "Even Fred and George had better grades than those, and they were busy doing something useful! You lazy bum I'm going to throw you out on the street and not let you come back in until you've gone to the ministry and illegally changed your results."
"Shh!" warned Ron earnestly, as Mrs. Weasley was watching suspiciously from the other end of the table. "We don't have as much talk to cover our own conversation anymore."
Harry hastily changed the subject. "So, when are we going to Diagon Alley?"
"Next week," said Ron. "Hermione's coming four days before. Apparently her parents don't particularly enjoy being the only muggles on a wizard street, so they're going to drop her with us again. Oh boy." Ron's rolling eyes and sarcastic drawl did not conceal the fact that he was looking forward to her arrival.
"Really, Ronald," said Fred, putting on an air of false offense, "shame on you to lie like that! You know you are looking forward to getting laid when she arrives!"
The table went silent. Ron's skin was outdoing itself in an effort to match his hair, while Mrs. Weasley's narrowed eyes were fixed on Fred, who backed into his chair sheepishly. The rest of the meal passed silently but for requests to pass dishes.
By the next day everything was back to normal again, or at least as normal as it got at the Burrow. The rest of the week was spent lounging around, playing gobstones and finishing homework, more of the former than the latter. On Tuesday the OWL results came for Harry and Ron; they surprised themselves by getting a 10 and an 8 respectively. "Hermione probably got a perfect 13," muttered Ron, "but we'll find out in a couple of days."
Hermione arrived on Thursday, and Mrs. Weasley made another huge dinner that night. True to form, Hermione had received a higher grade than any they had ever heard of, a 12.9 . It appeared that the graders, unwilling to give anyone 100%, had given her the next best thing.
On Friday morning, though, Hermione didn't come down to breakfast. Hours passed. Lunch was served, and she still hadn't made an appearance. "Do you think she's all right?" Harry asked Ron as they went back up to the flaming orange room after their meal. "Maybe we should go check on her."
They stopped at Ginny's room, and Ron put his ear to the keyhole. "It sounds like she's crying," he muttered. "What could she possibly be crying about? That she missed 1/10th of a point on her OWLs?" Despite his mocking tone, he was obviously concerned.
"Hermione?" said Harry, knocking at the door. "Can we come in?"
There was a moment's pause, and then the door swung open. Hermione stood there, tears streaming down her face, clutching a piece of parchment in her hand.
"Are you all right?" asked Ron, for once letting his care show on his face.
"Oh, Ron," sobbed Hermione, coming forward to cry into his chest.
"What is it, Hermione?" asked Ron, putting his arms around her to comfort her.
"V-Viktor," she stammered. "He – he sent me th-this."
She turned the letter over to Harry, completely abandoning herself to Ron's embrace, now crying uncontrolably. Harry read out loud, "Dear Hermione, We have been going out for quite some time, as you know, but I think it is time for our relationship to end." Hermione cried even harder and louder and tried to burrow into Ron's chest and find protection there. Harry read on. "I wish you to know that I hold you in the highest respect and that I love you as dearly as a sister, but the long distance has taken a toll on our relationship. Please do not harbor any hard feelings towards me, and I will always regard you as a friend."
"Shh, it's all right, Hermione. It's all right," soothed Ron, patting her on the back as he held her.
The truth is that Harry was becoming more and more uncomfortable with the situation as it went on. Especially the part where Hermione was finding solace in Ron. "Correct me if I'm wrong," he thought in a growl, "but whenever there's an argument you two are on opposite sides. You fight constantly, you hated each other the first time you met. I was the one who brought the group together. And now," he continued, his anger rising, "I am the one left alone. Oh, Hermione, why did you pick Ron?"
[Author's Note: Remember, I personally do not like this arrangement. The only reasons I include it are that a) I get money and b) it will prove a useful plot element later on.]
"I'm sure you'll find someone else, Hermione. Besides, you have us." Harry's feeble attempt at comfort, along with his similarly lacking attempt to comfort Hermione by punching her lightly on the arm, did not meet with success. Ripping herself out of Ron's arms, she came kicking and screaming at her completely surprised admirer.
"How dare you!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. "I don't want anyone else. I want Viktor. No one else!" She stamped her foot. "How untrue that is," she added to herself. "There is most definitely someone I want more than Viktor."
Ron pulled the momentarilly crazy girl away from Harry before she could hurt him. He held her close, effectively pinning her arms to her sides, as he gave Harry a small wink. "Hermione, I don't think you want to be personally responsible for changing Harry's title from 'the boy who lived' to 'the boy who died.'"
They all laughed, and for a single moment everything was back to normal. Then Hermione sank into Ron's chest again, and Harry felt another surge of jealousy course through him. "Thanks, Ron," said Hermione with a winning smile. "I needed that."
"Ha!" thought Harry and Ron at the right time. "Sure she doesn't want anyone else." Of course, their reactions to this thought were different: Harry's heart plummetted through the floor, while Ron's mood skyrocketed.
"That's right, Hermes," Ron flirted back. "Now, get yourself cleaned up; you're a mess. Burn that letter, or better yet, send it back to Krum filled with bubotuber pus." Even Harry laughed at that.
After Hermione went to freshen up, Ron and Harry continued up the stairs. "Ron?" said Harry at length.
"Hmm?"
"You like Hermione, don't you?"
"Of course. Along with you, she's my best friend."
By this time they were in Ron's room. Harry shut the door. "Just friends?"
Ron rolled his eyes. "Well, if you have any intelligence at all – which I gather that you do, because you're asking this question – you already knew the answer."
"That's what I thought." Harry's tone was a combination of smugness and jealousy.
"What? You're not telling me you like her, too?" Harry was about to answer in the affirmative when Ron continued, "Because, if you do, well, I'll lay off her. You – well – I'm not sure how to say this, but... you've kind of had a screwed up personal life. The parents thing and everything." He glanced up at Harry's scar, an action that was to be expected of strangers, but not of Ron. "I'm sure I wouldn't want to interfere."
If Harry had been expecting anything, that wasn't it. He was faced with a difficult choice, between friendship and love. Ron was willing to give up his love for friendship; shouldn't Harry do the same?
"No," said Harry at last with an effort. "No, you take her. She's my friend, but not – not more."