Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me.
A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! This is not much of a chapter but I think it is sort of like. . .a connecting chapter.
"I don't think I can do this anymore." Claire stood in the living room, with her bags clustered about her.
"Why not?" Hermione hissed. She wanted Claire gone that night so that when Ron came back from work, she'd be there. Alone (muhahahahahahahahaha).
"How can I just go there? And. . . he might ask me. . ."
Hermione placed her hands on Claire's shoulders and shook her gently. "Claire, Harry knows about everything. He knows why you'll be staying there. Don't be afraid."
"I'm not afraid!" Claire said indignantly. "Well, we made a deal," Claire shook Hermione's hand. "good luck and . . . God speed?"
"Yeah, yeah. . . that's the phrase. Alright then, bye!" Hermione nearly pushed Claire out of the front door. And without a second to spare, slammed the door shut. She locked it with a click, almost expecting Claire to burst in again. Great - she was alone and she felt strange. "Breath deep Granger," she told herself.
She hastily went in to the kitchen to check on her treacle tart. She didn't like it, but Ron did. . . and she had to do this right. She opened the oven door and found that the crust was already beginning to blacken.
"Oh, bugger." She muttered and reached for her oven gloves. She rose up from her squatting position to come face to face with. . .
"Hello Hermione dear."
Hermione screamed. "AHHHHHHHHH!"
Mrs. Weasley smiled rather sardonically. "I'm sorry if I gave you a fright dear. What are you doing here? Where is Claire?"
Hermione brushed her hair off her face.
"Oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley. . . um, Claire is er. . . out. So I am cooking."
"That's a shame. I came here to tell Claire about a new recipe. It's a variation of the traditional chicken pie."
Hermione managed a smile, "Well, you could teach me Mrs. Weasley." She said brightly.
Mrs Weasley waved her hand dismissively, "No dear, I know you are not interested in that area. . ." she eyed Hermione's a little overcooked tart. "Sorry to trouble you. . . I must be heading back. Tell Ron I've been here will you? Thanks dear." Mrs. Weasley gave a small smile to Hermione and turned to head out of the house, but she turned back. "Sorry, what are you doing here?"
"I er. . . live here."
Mrs. Weasley raised her eyebrow. "Excuse me? You live here? How many women does Ronald keep with him in this apartment?"
"I just came here because I had no place to live. . . for the moment."
Mrs Weasley sniffed, "I mean to give you no offence, but I never liked the idea of Ron cohabitating with someone. . .But since you are Ron's best friend and I am sure your feelings for him are purely platonic, I am a bit relieved."
Hermione opened her mouth and closed it several times, "Mrs. Weasley. . . I er. . ."
"Yes?"
Hermione was having a very quick debate inside her head. If she was going to be her future mother in law. . .then she might as well have an open honest relationship with her. . . but if she told her then Mrs. Weasley might drag her out of Ron's apartment by her hair.
"My feelings for Ron. . . aren't platonic. My primary purpose of staying here is because I. . .I um. . . like him."
Mrs Weasley's eyebrows shot into her hair. "What? But Ron is already interested in Claire. . . is he not?"
"No. Their relationship is totally platonic. Mine isn't." Hermione held her head up bravely.
"Well. That came as a surprise. Well, then erm. . . good luck dear."
Mrs. Weasley turned to leave muttering about the young people of the day and how traditional values were being undermined. However, Mrs. Weasley's blessing, or that what Hermione interpreted it to be, gave her a fresh surge of courage. She looked into the oven once more, the crust was little darker than before. Sighing, she reached for her oven gloves. Breathing deeply, Hermione reached in to take her pie out but ended up jumping back and flinching, the oven was hot.
"Well, no shit Granger. . . it's an oven." She reprimanded herself. Once again, she reached in and managed to take the tart out. She quickly dropped it on the counter with a clang. She wiped her brow. Then she got her second fright of the evening.
"Hey,"
"AHHHHHHHA!" Hermione's arm flailed and her beautiful (though a little burnt) tart flew off the counter and landed somewhere behind an apologetic Ron.
"I'm sorry; did I give you a fright?"
"No Ron. You didn't. I just thought I'd knock of my treacle tart with my bare hands and get them burnt." Hermione replied in her most sarcastic tone as she turned the taps on to cool her hand off.
"Here, let me see that." Ron grabbed a reluctant Hermione's wrist to examine her burn.
"It's only a light burn. I can fix that." He said brightly.
"I don't want your wand anywhere near my burn." Hermione wrenched her wrist from his grasp and sighed. "I'm sorry Ron. . . it's just that,"
"I know."
"Thanks."
"I'm sorry."
Hermione smiled, "If you really are sorry, then you could clean up the kitchen for me." Ron took a look around at the mess Hermione had made. There must have been a hundred dishes waiting to be cleaned.
"Alright. Here, come out to the living room so we can fix your hand." Ron led Hermione to the living room. Gently, he took her hand. Hermione blushed; their proximity was getting to her. Feeling a little flushed, she edged a little closer, perhaps this was a chance for her to. . . experiment.
"Where's Claire?"
The warm and fuzziness of the atmosphere suddenly iced over.
"Is she all you can think about?" Hermione snarled. Ron looked a little taken aback.
"Well, not really but. . . well she lives here."
"Not anymore." Hermione snapped.
"Eh? She moved out?"
"She went to live with Harry. For the moment."
"Oh I see. So we have the house to ourselves?" Ron asked.
Hermione jerked back in surprise. Their eyes met. She swore there was some sort of mischief in Ron's eyes not unlike the one he had during the times of rule breaking at Hogwarts. "That would be correct." Hermione whispered.
Ron smiled. "That's nice. Here. Your hand is all better now."
Neither made the move to get up.
"Are you hungry?" Hermione asked.
"Not really."
"Huh."
"You?"
"No."
There were a few more minutes of silence.
"Want to play chess?"
Hermione snorted. "Loosing to you and having a whole week of 'smug Ron' gloating over his little victory is not my ideal way of spending time."
"We'll make it interesting then." Ron said with a shrug. "And you get to choose how to make it interesting."
Hermione smiled almost evilly. "How about, 'Hogwarts: A History' trivia? Each time we ask each other a question, we get to move a piece. If you get it wrong, the other person gets your turn."
"Are you crazy? I'll be playing chess with my hands tied behind my back!"
"That's the point."
"No, that's not acceptable." Ron shook his head vehemently. The idea of loosing chess was not becoming to him.
Hermione frowned. "Well, I don't see how else we can make a game of chess fair."
Both sank into deep thought.
"How about if we just play a trivia of the past events that we've been through?"
"That's not fair," Hermione scowled.
"Why?"
"Can we just play the trivia? Not the chess?"
A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! This is not much of a chapter but I think it is sort of like. . .a connecting chapter.
"I don't think I can do this anymore." Claire stood in the living room, with her bags clustered about her.
"Why not?" Hermione hissed. She wanted Claire gone that night so that when Ron came back from work, she'd be there. Alone (muhahahahahahahahaha).
"How can I just go there? And. . . he might ask me. . ."
Hermione placed her hands on Claire's shoulders and shook her gently. "Claire, Harry knows about everything. He knows why you'll be staying there. Don't be afraid."
"I'm not afraid!" Claire said indignantly. "Well, we made a deal," Claire shook Hermione's hand. "good luck and . . . God speed?"
"Yeah, yeah. . . that's the phrase. Alright then, bye!" Hermione nearly pushed Claire out of the front door. And without a second to spare, slammed the door shut. She locked it with a click, almost expecting Claire to burst in again. Great - she was alone and she felt strange. "Breath deep Granger," she told herself.
She hastily went in to the kitchen to check on her treacle tart. She didn't like it, but Ron did. . . and she had to do this right. She opened the oven door and found that the crust was already beginning to blacken.
"Oh, bugger." She muttered and reached for her oven gloves. She rose up from her squatting position to come face to face with. . .
"Hello Hermione dear."
Hermione screamed. "AHHHHHHHHH!"
Mrs. Weasley smiled rather sardonically. "I'm sorry if I gave you a fright dear. What are you doing here? Where is Claire?"
Hermione brushed her hair off her face.
"Oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley. . . um, Claire is er. . . out. So I am cooking."
"That's a shame. I came here to tell Claire about a new recipe. It's a variation of the traditional chicken pie."
Hermione managed a smile, "Well, you could teach me Mrs. Weasley." She said brightly.
Mrs Weasley waved her hand dismissively, "No dear, I know you are not interested in that area. . ." she eyed Hermione's a little overcooked tart. "Sorry to trouble you. . . I must be heading back. Tell Ron I've been here will you? Thanks dear." Mrs. Weasley gave a small smile to Hermione and turned to head out of the house, but she turned back. "Sorry, what are you doing here?"
"I er. . . live here."
Mrs. Weasley raised her eyebrow. "Excuse me? You live here? How many women does Ronald keep with him in this apartment?"
"I just came here because I had no place to live. . . for the moment."
Mrs Weasley sniffed, "I mean to give you no offence, but I never liked the idea of Ron cohabitating with someone. . .But since you are Ron's best friend and I am sure your feelings for him are purely platonic, I am a bit relieved."
Hermione opened her mouth and closed it several times, "Mrs. Weasley. . . I er. . ."
"Yes?"
Hermione was having a very quick debate inside her head. If she was going to be her future mother in law. . .then she might as well have an open honest relationship with her. . . but if she told her then Mrs. Weasley might drag her out of Ron's apartment by her hair.
"My feelings for Ron. . . aren't platonic. My primary purpose of staying here is because I. . .I um. . . like him."
Mrs Weasley's eyebrows shot into her hair. "What? But Ron is already interested in Claire. . . is he not?"
"No. Their relationship is totally platonic. Mine isn't." Hermione held her head up bravely.
"Well. That came as a surprise. Well, then erm. . . good luck dear."
Mrs. Weasley turned to leave muttering about the young people of the day and how traditional values were being undermined. However, Mrs. Weasley's blessing, or that what Hermione interpreted it to be, gave her a fresh surge of courage. She looked into the oven once more, the crust was little darker than before. Sighing, she reached for her oven gloves. Breathing deeply, Hermione reached in to take her pie out but ended up jumping back and flinching, the oven was hot.
"Well, no shit Granger. . . it's an oven." She reprimanded herself. Once again, she reached in and managed to take the tart out. She quickly dropped it on the counter with a clang. She wiped her brow. Then she got her second fright of the evening.
"Hey,"
"AHHHHHHHA!" Hermione's arm flailed and her beautiful (though a little burnt) tart flew off the counter and landed somewhere behind an apologetic Ron.
"I'm sorry; did I give you a fright?"
"No Ron. You didn't. I just thought I'd knock of my treacle tart with my bare hands and get them burnt." Hermione replied in her most sarcastic tone as she turned the taps on to cool her hand off.
"Here, let me see that." Ron grabbed a reluctant Hermione's wrist to examine her burn.
"It's only a light burn. I can fix that." He said brightly.
"I don't want your wand anywhere near my burn." Hermione wrenched her wrist from his grasp and sighed. "I'm sorry Ron. . . it's just that,"
"I know."
"Thanks."
"I'm sorry."
Hermione smiled, "If you really are sorry, then you could clean up the kitchen for me." Ron took a look around at the mess Hermione had made. There must have been a hundred dishes waiting to be cleaned.
"Alright. Here, come out to the living room so we can fix your hand." Ron led Hermione to the living room. Gently, he took her hand. Hermione blushed; their proximity was getting to her. Feeling a little flushed, she edged a little closer, perhaps this was a chance for her to. . . experiment.
"Where's Claire?"
The warm and fuzziness of the atmosphere suddenly iced over.
"Is she all you can think about?" Hermione snarled. Ron looked a little taken aback.
"Well, not really but. . . well she lives here."
"Not anymore." Hermione snapped.
"Eh? She moved out?"
"She went to live with Harry. For the moment."
"Oh I see. So we have the house to ourselves?" Ron asked.
Hermione jerked back in surprise. Their eyes met. She swore there was some sort of mischief in Ron's eyes not unlike the one he had during the times of rule breaking at Hogwarts. "That would be correct." Hermione whispered.
Ron smiled. "That's nice. Here. Your hand is all better now."
Neither made the move to get up.
"Are you hungry?" Hermione asked.
"Not really."
"Huh."
"You?"
"No."
There were a few more minutes of silence.
"Want to play chess?"
Hermione snorted. "Loosing to you and having a whole week of 'smug Ron' gloating over his little victory is not my ideal way of spending time."
"We'll make it interesting then." Ron said with a shrug. "And you get to choose how to make it interesting."
Hermione smiled almost evilly. "How about, 'Hogwarts: A History' trivia? Each time we ask each other a question, we get to move a piece. If you get it wrong, the other person gets your turn."
"Are you crazy? I'll be playing chess with my hands tied behind my back!"
"That's the point."
"No, that's not acceptable." Ron shook his head vehemently. The idea of loosing chess was not becoming to him.
Hermione frowned. "Well, I don't see how else we can make a game of chess fair."
Both sank into deep thought.
"How about if we just play a trivia of the past events that we've been through?"
"That's not fair," Hermione scowled.
"Why?"
"Can we just play the trivia? Not the chess?"