Here we go then. Bill and Hermione are together, everything is fine. But it can't end there, can it? No, it can't, I am continuing.
******'
It was a week left before they were going back to England, a week they spent either hiding in their rooms, writing letters, getting to know each other better, and inevitably, snogging, or in Corwith's bookshop. It seemed like the local newspapers wanted interviews or pictures every time they stepped out the door. Of course, breaking the Borealis Curse was sensational news, but after a while it got tiring.
Hermione used the time to catch up on her summer homework, writing essays and doing even more research. Bill wrote his reports and answered letters from his friends and family. The week passed faster than either of them could have anticipated, and soon they were standing outside the Swan and Dragon, with their trunks behind hem and their tickets in hand.
"Alright, the plane leaves in about half an hour, so we better be going." Bill informed her.
"Yes, Bill, I know. You've told me several times. What's wrong? You don't act like this normally." Hermione took his hand.
"Well, I'm worried about breaking this to Mum and Dad, not to mention my siblings." He confessed.
"Well, I don't know about your brothers and your father, but I know Ginny will probably give me hug, and then give you a hug, and then return to me and yell at me because I didn't tell her sooner. Your Mum will probably yell at both of us, me for not taking care of myself, since she secretly want me to end up with Ron, and you for being a cradle snatcher." She finished, grinning at him, and he actually had the grace to blush.
"How'd you know she wants you with Ron?" He asked, trying to change the subject.
"Just a hunch. Every time we see each other, she hints that I should get a boyfriend, glancing at Ron. Trust me, Bill, she wants me with Ron. But that isn't going to happen." She assured him.
Bill didn't reply, but squeezed her hand tightly as they started walking through Fiddler's Fair. People seemed to have forgotten that they had been in the paper only a week earlier, and left them alone, save for a few curious glances.
*******'
The plane ride was just as tedious and boring as the first time, and Hermione fell asleep against Bill's shoulder. He simply smiled and put an arm around her shoulder, his chin on her hair and continued reading the book she'd leant him. A pair across from them pointed at them and whispered to each other.
"Look at them. We used to be just like that, it's so sweet." The woman whispered, just loud enough for Bill to hear her.
He smiled and held Hermione closer, placing a kiss on her hair. It was unbelievable, everything that had happened over the last four weeks. He had laughed at people who used the term ´falling fast and hard´ when referring to love, and called them foolish. It would appear that he was now equally foolish. He had fallen in love with Hermione.
He still couldn't believe she even wanted to be close to him, let alone let him kiss her. To think she would love him was too much to hope for, especially this early in their relationship. He hadn't told her yet, because he didn't want to scare her off. Besides, he'd fancied himself in love with Fleur Delacour, and told her so, and she'd turned on him and slept with one of his few friends.
He didn't want to be hurt again, and even though Hermione assured him time and time again that she would never leave him the same way Fleur had, he wasn't sure at all. He knew no one was perfect, but in his eyes at least, Hermione was so close it was scary. And why she wanted to be with him, dirt poor Weasley who forgot to shave very once in a while, went beyond his comprehension.
Deciding that such gloomy thoughts could wait until later, and that he should at least enjoy it while it lasted, he went back to his book, trying to understand the concept of ´fantasy´ literature. Muggles clearly had some confused ideas about magic in general, and wizards in particular.
*****'
"Hermione? We've arrived."
Hermione blinked sleepily, and looked up to see Bill standing over her, noticing that he'd forgotten to shave again. She smiled and stood up herself. He grabbed her hand and led her down the aisle. She noticed the shoulder of his shirt was damp, and raised an eyebrow.
"What happened to your shirt?" She asked, gesturing to his shoulder.
He glanced at it, and chuckled.
"You happened. You drool when you sleep." He said, grinning.
"Oh, Gods. I wonder if the floor would open up and swallow me if I asked it to?" She mumbled to herself. "Well, it'll disappear when you wash it."
"Who says I'm going to wash it? It's not every day I have the honour of having a beautiful woman drool over me." He said, shooting her a mischievous look.
She blushed at the comment, but stuck out her tongue at him, making him laugh aloud. A few of the Muggles around them turned and stared, but otherwise ignored them.
When they walked out to the parking lot, they were still holding hands, Bill carrying their trunks and Hermione looking around for her parents, who had promised to come and pick her up. She spotted their car, and dragged Bill with her towards it.
"Mum, Dad!" She exclaimed, waving her free hand.
"Hermione! We've missed you so much!" He mother exclaimed and threw her arms around her daughter.
Hermione hugged her back, without letting go of Bill's hand. Bill on the other hand, didn't want to be slaughtered by Hermione's father, and tried to pry his fingers loose. But to avail; Hermione refused to let go. Her parents noticed of course, and took a step back, looking at the two of them uncertainly.
Finally Hermione seemed to realize that she was still holding Bill's hand tightly, but instead of letting go, like he thought she would, she held on tighter. He gave Mr and Mrs Granger a hesitant smile, while they stared at him.
"Mum, Dad, I've got something to tell you." Hermione said.
"What is it, dear?"
"Well, you've got to promise not to get mad or anything, before I tell you."
"We promise, now what is it?" Her mother asked impatiently.
"Remember, you promised. It's like this; Bill and I are together now. And that's all." She finished, voice trembling a little.
Her father glared at Bill, who felt like cowering behind Hermione, but stood his ground. Her mother had clapped a hand over her mouth and looked from her daughter to her daughters newly found boyfriend and back again.
Her father stepped closer to Bill, and glared at him intensely. Bill gulped, but didn't look away.
"How old are you boy?" He asked, nearly growling n anger.
"Twenty-six." Bill answered weakly.
"And Hermione is only seventeen! How dare you!" Her father asked threateningly.
"Eighteen." Hermione interjected.
"What? Hermione you're seventeen, I should know." Her mother said, looking at her sternly.
"No, Mum, I'm eighteen. It's a long story, but I'm legally eighteen, so you can't actually decide what I can do and what I can't." Hermione explained calmly.
"Wait, Ron told me something about this." Bill interrupted, forgetting he was supposed to be afraid of her father, "In your third year at Hogwarts, you used a Time-Turner right?"
"Exactly. So telling him I'm seventeen won't help, Dad. Besides, you were older than he is when you met Mum, and she was only sixteen." Hermione shot at her father.
He bristled, and opened his mouth to snap back, but faltered. He looked at his wife and sighed heavily.
"Hermione, honey, you know that was a low blow. We're only worried about you; we don't want you to get hurt." Her father said, looking apologetic.
Hermione threw her arms around him, finally letting go of Bill's hand, and hugged him.
"It's alright, Dad, I know you're worried, but I can take care of myself." She said, smiling.
Her father hugged her back, and then her mother took over. After they were done, Hermione took hold of Bill's hand again, and they walked towards the car. Bill helped her father put their trunks inside and they were off to the Granger residence.
*****'
Even though her parents offered to let him stay in the house, Bill told them that he had to get back and leave a report to his superior, and that he needed to look into his flat, which had been standing empty for six weeks. He hadn't been in there before they went to Rome, and had barely even unpacked when he got it, immediately being sent on a new job.
As soon as he left, her father excused himself, saying that he had to get to work, and her mother took her on a shopping trip, which sooner than she anticipated turned into a mother-daughter talk, concerning Bill.
"Are you sure he isn't taking advantage of you, dear?" Was her first question.
Hermione rolled her eyes at her mother's worry, knowing immediately who ´he´ was.
"Mum, if anyone is taking advantage of anyone in this relationship, it's me. You should have seen him after we kissed the first time. He looked so miserable, blaming himself, thinking that he' forced himself on me. And he's Bill, for crying out loud. He couldn't hurt a fly if he tried." She told her mother.
"But he is older than you." Her mother warned, "He might leave you for someone else, and then where would you be?"
"What does his age have to do with him leaving me?" Hermione asked, but continued before her mother could reply, "As for leaving me, he would never do that. Maybe he would, but then he'd let me down gently, since he knows all too well how it feels to be rejected."
"He does?" Her mother asked, instantly curious.
"I don't want to talk about it. It's private, Mum, and I promised not to tell anyone. But he wouldn't leave me for someone else, I'm sure of that. Besides, if he did, I'd hex him six ways to hell." She shrugged.
"Oh, alright then, I'll stop worrying. But did he say about having a flat?" Her mother continued, now looking extremely curious.
Hermione rolled her eyes again, and slumped forward on the table they were sitting at.
"Oh, Mum!" She said.
*****'
Bill stepped into his empty flat, surveying the white walls silently. In the middle of the room, dumped on the floor, was the small heap containing his belongings. There had been no time to pack when he got the order from Gringotts, and he always travelled light in any case.
He knelt in front of the heap, looking at it closely. There were his extra shirts, and his patched and stained trousers, having been worn so many times that if he held them up to the night sky, he would be able to see the starts through them. There was the small mirror he always carried around when excavating in the desert, not because he was vain, but because by reflecting the sun off it, making the sunlight hit something on those buried tombs, was sometimes the only way to open them.
Peaking out in the very bottom of the heap was a blanket, dusty and torn on places, which had warmed him though many cold desert nights. There was his trusty penknife, always there when he needed it. He sighed, looked at the heap one last time, and stood up again.
His footsteps echoed as he walked through the flat, looking at the empty rooms, occasionally stopping to open a window or pick up some old paper scraps off the floor. He soon found himself leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, hands in his pockets, thinking.
He'd have to get some furniture. He'd been informed by his superiors that he could, no, needed, to take a break from working. They said he'd been working constantly since they employed him, with the exception of a few short breaks to visit his family or help the Order.
He had several weeks of leave, giving him enough time to tell his family about Hermione, tell Hermione that he loved her, and a lot of time to spare for fretting to pieces about it. The only problem he had now was coming up with a way of how to tell her. Or his family, for that matter; Ron would go spare.
He would go absolutely bloody spare. He'd go totally mad. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to blows. His little brother had a notorious hot temper, and even though he was both stronger and more experienced than Ron, it wouldn't be nice having to fight him. He loved his brother dearly, but some times, he could be such a thick headed idiot.
Sighing, he walked out the door, snatching his coat along the way. He might as well distract himself by buying some furniture. He shut his eyes, willing for the vision of Hermione's smiling face to go away. Yes, he definitely needed something to distract him right now.
******'
Hermione was fully intending to spend the rest of the day sitting cuddled up by her window, reading a good book and daydreaming about Bill, when her mother called from downstairs. Sighing, she put down the book and headed down the stairs, wondering what her mother could possibly want now.
"What is it Mum?" She called, halfway down.
"Claire's here to see you." Her mother called back.
She quickened her steps; Claire was one of the few Muggle friends she could still get along with, even though Claire didn't know about the more magical aspects of her life. Claire had been a good friend, laughing with her when she was happy, comforting her when she was sad. She was a female version of Harry and Ron, really. She could still remember all the times when they used to go out together during the summer, transforming from sweet little girls to the official heirs to the Marauder's throne.
"Claire!" She shouted, holding out her arms to the dark haired girl by the door, nearly skipping down the last few steps.
"Hermione! Where have you been?" Claire exclaimed, hugging her.
"Mum, I'm going out with Claire!" She shouted back into the house as she grabbed her shoes, and hopping on one leg, put them on.
When she was done, she turned to Claire, smiling. She threw her arm around the smaller girl's shoulders, grinning widely.
"Have I got news for you, Claire." She told the girl.
"I don't know, have you?" Claire asked, eyes twinkling.
"Oh, I do, but maybe we should start with any questions you have, and go from there."
"Well, I was kinda wondering where you've been." Claire admitted.
"In Rome." Hermione grinned.
"You've been in Rome? No fair! I've wanted to go there all my life, and then you slip off without as much as a phone call? Injustice!" Claire shouted, although grinning.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, but when the chance comes by, why not jump at it?" Hermione asked.
"Whatever. So what did you do there?" Claire asked, curious.
"I worked, Claire. I worked."
"Worked? Why did you work when you were in one of the most romantic cities in the world? Hermione, you are so strange!" Claire accused, shaking her head.
"I know, but you like me anyway. I worked, because hat's what I came there to do. And as for ´most romantic place in the world´, well, maybe. I know it worked wonders for my love life, anyway." She smiled dreamily.
"What? You're kidding! Hermione's got a boyfriend! I can't believe it! I've waited so long for this moment! You're first boyfriend, Hermione, aren't you excited?" Claire asked, nearly bouncing up and down.
"It's not my first boyfriend, he's my third, but yes, I'm excited, because this time I think it'll last." Hermione said, grinning at her energetic friend.
"You've had two other boyfriends? Hermione, why didn't you tell me; I'm your best friend! Come on, we'll get an ice-cream, and you'll tell me about your boyfriend." She ordered, and dragged Hermione off towards an ice-cream stand.
*******'
Ending Notes; and that's that. I'm still not sure whether to let them break it to the Weasley family over summer, or wait until school begins. Why don't you tell me what you think?
******'
It was a week left before they were going back to England, a week they spent either hiding in their rooms, writing letters, getting to know each other better, and inevitably, snogging, or in Corwith's bookshop. It seemed like the local newspapers wanted interviews or pictures every time they stepped out the door. Of course, breaking the Borealis Curse was sensational news, but after a while it got tiring.
Hermione used the time to catch up on her summer homework, writing essays and doing even more research. Bill wrote his reports and answered letters from his friends and family. The week passed faster than either of them could have anticipated, and soon they were standing outside the Swan and Dragon, with their trunks behind hem and their tickets in hand.
"Alright, the plane leaves in about half an hour, so we better be going." Bill informed her.
"Yes, Bill, I know. You've told me several times. What's wrong? You don't act like this normally." Hermione took his hand.
"Well, I'm worried about breaking this to Mum and Dad, not to mention my siblings." He confessed.
"Well, I don't know about your brothers and your father, but I know Ginny will probably give me hug, and then give you a hug, and then return to me and yell at me because I didn't tell her sooner. Your Mum will probably yell at both of us, me for not taking care of myself, since she secretly want me to end up with Ron, and you for being a cradle snatcher." She finished, grinning at him, and he actually had the grace to blush.
"How'd you know she wants you with Ron?" He asked, trying to change the subject.
"Just a hunch. Every time we see each other, she hints that I should get a boyfriend, glancing at Ron. Trust me, Bill, she wants me with Ron. But that isn't going to happen." She assured him.
Bill didn't reply, but squeezed her hand tightly as they started walking through Fiddler's Fair. People seemed to have forgotten that they had been in the paper only a week earlier, and left them alone, save for a few curious glances.
*******'
The plane ride was just as tedious and boring as the first time, and Hermione fell asleep against Bill's shoulder. He simply smiled and put an arm around her shoulder, his chin on her hair and continued reading the book she'd leant him. A pair across from them pointed at them and whispered to each other.
"Look at them. We used to be just like that, it's so sweet." The woman whispered, just loud enough for Bill to hear her.
He smiled and held Hermione closer, placing a kiss on her hair. It was unbelievable, everything that had happened over the last four weeks. He had laughed at people who used the term ´falling fast and hard´ when referring to love, and called them foolish. It would appear that he was now equally foolish. He had fallen in love with Hermione.
He still couldn't believe she even wanted to be close to him, let alone let him kiss her. To think she would love him was too much to hope for, especially this early in their relationship. He hadn't told her yet, because he didn't want to scare her off. Besides, he'd fancied himself in love with Fleur Delacour, and told her so, and she'd turned on him and slept with one of his few friends.
He didn't want to be hurt again, and even though Hermione assured him time and time again that she would never leave him the same way Fleur had, he wasn't sure at all. He knew no one was perfect, but in his eyes at least, Hermione was so close it was scary. And why she wanted to be with him, dirt poor Weasley who forgot to shave very once in a while, went beyond his comprehension.
Deciding that such gloomy thoughts could wait until later, and that he should at least enjoy it while it lasted, he went back to his book, trying to understand the concept of ´fantasy´ literature. Muggles clearly had some confused ideas about magic in general, and wizards in particular.
*****'
"Hermione? We've arrived."
Hermione blinked sleepily, and looked up to see Bill standing over her, noticing that he'd forgotten to shave again. She smiled and stood up herself. He grabbed her hand and led her down the aisle. She noticed the shoulder of his shirt was damp, and raised an eyebrow.
"What happened to your shirt?" She asked, gesturing to his shoulder.
He glanced at it, and chuckled.
"You happened. You drool when you sleep." He said, grinning.
"Oh, Gods. I wonder if the floor would open up and swallow me if I asked it to?" She mumbled to herself. "Well, it'll disappear when you wash it."
"Who says I'm going to wash it? It's not every day I have the honour of having a beautiful woman drool over me." He said, shooting her a mischievous look.
She blushed at the comment, but stuck out her tongue at him, making him laugh aloud. A few of the Muggles around them turned and stared, but otherwise ignored them.
When they walked out to the parking lot, they were still holding hands, Bill carrying their trunks and Hermione looking around for her parents, who had promised to come and pick her up. She spotted their car, and dragged Bill with her towards it.
"Mum, Dad!" She exclaimed, waving her free hand.
"Hermione! We've missed you so much!" He mother exclaimed and threw her arms around her daughter.
Hermione hugged her back, without letting go of Bill's hand. Bill on the other hand, didn't want to be slaughtered by Hermione's father, and tried to pry his fingers loose. But to avail; Hermione refused to let go. Her parents noticed of course, and took a step back, looking at the two of them uncertainly.
Finally Hermione seemed to realize that she was still holding Bill's hand tightly, but instead of letting go, like he thought she would, she held on tighter. He gave Mr and Mrs Granger a hesitant smile, while they stared at him.
"Mum, Dad, I've got something to tell you." Hermione said.
"What is it, dear?"
"Well, you've got to promise not to get mad or anything, before I tell you."
"We promise, now what is it?" Her mother asked impatiently.
"Remember, you promised. It's like this; Bill and I are together now. And that's all." She finished, voice trembling a little.
Her father glared at Bill, who felt like cowering behind Hermione, but stood his ground. Her mother had clapped a hand over her mouth and looked from her daughter to her daughters newly found boyfriend and back again.
Her father stepped closer to Bill, and glared at him intensely. Bill gulped, but didn't look away.
"How old are you boy?" He asked, nearly growling n anger.
"Twenty-six." Bill answered weakly.
"And Hermione is only seventeen! How dare you!" Her father asked threateningly.
"Eighteen." Hermione interjected.
"What? Hermione you're seventeen, I should know." Her mother said, looking at her sternly.
"No, Mum, I'm eighteen. It's a long story, but I'm legally eighteen, so you can't actually decide what I can do and what I can't." Hermione explained calmly.
"Wait, Ron told me something about this." Bill interrupted, forgetting he was supposed to be afraid of her father, "In your third year at Hogwarts, you used a Time-Turner right?"
"Exactly. So telling him I'm seventeen won't help, Dad. Besides, you were older than he is when you met Mum, and she was only sixteen." Hermione shot at her father.
He bristled, and opened his mouth to snap back, but faltered. He looked at his wife and sighed heavily.
"Hermione, honey, you know that was a low blow. We're only worried about you; we don't want you to get hurt." Her father said, looking apologetic.
Hermione threw her arms around him, finally letting go of Bill's hand, and hugged him.
"It's alright, Dad, I know you're worried, but I can take care of myself." She said, smiling.
Her father hugged her back, and then her mother took over. After they were done, Hermione took hold of Bill's hand again, and they walked towards the car. Bill helped her father put their trunks inside and they were off to the Granger residence.
*****'
Even though her parents offered to let him stay in the house, Bill told them that he had to get back and leave a report to his superior, and that he needed to look into his flat, which had been standing empty for six weeks. He hadn't been in there before they went to Rome, and had barely even unpacked when he got it, immediately being sent on a new job.
As soon as he left, her father excused himself, saying that he had to get to work, and her mother took her on a shopping trip, which sooner than she anticipated turned into a mother-daughter talk, concerning Bill.
"Are you sure he isn't taking advantage of you, dear?" Was her first question.
Hermione rolled her eyes at her mother's worry, knowing immediately who ´he´ was.
"Mum, if anyone is taking advantage of anyone in this relationship, it's me. You should have seen him after we kissed the first time. He looked so miserable, blaming himself, thinking that he' forced himself on me. And he's Bill, for crying out loud. He couldn't hurt a fly if he tried." She told her mother.
"But he is older than you." Her mother warned, "He might leave you for someone else, and then where would you be?"
"What does his age have to do with him leaving me?" Hermione asked, but continued before her mother could reply, "As for leaving me, he would never do that. Maybe he would, but then he'd let me down gently, since he knows all too well how it feels to be rejected."
"He does?" Her mother asked, instantly curious.
"I don't want to talk about it. It's private, Mum, and I promised not to tell anyone. But he wouldn't leave me for someone else, I'm sure of that. Besides, if he did, I'd hex him six ways to hell." She shrugged.
"Oh, alright then, I'll stop worrying. But did he say about having a flat?" Her mother continued, now looking extremely curious.
Hermione rolled her eyes again, and slumped forward on the table they were sitting at.
"Oh, Mum!" She said.
*****'
Bill stepped into his empty flat, surveying the white walls silently. In the middle of the room, dumped on the floor, was the small heap containing his belongings. There had been no time to pack when he got the order from Gringotts, and he always travelled light in any case.
He knelt in front of the heap, looking at it closely. There were his extra shirts, and his patched and stained trousers, having been worn so many times that if he held them up to the night sky, he would be able to see the starts through them. There was the small mirror he always carried around when excavating in the desert, not because he was vain, but because by reflecting the sun off it, making the sunlight hit something on those buried tombs, was sometimes the only way to open them.
Peaking out in the very bottom of the heap was a blanket, dusty and torn on places, which had warmed him though many cold desert nights. There was his trusty penknife, always there when he needed it. He sighed, looked at the heap one last time, and stood up again.
His footsteps echoed as he walked through the flat, looking at the empty rooms, occasionally stopping to open a window or pick up some old paper scraps off the floor. He soon found himself leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, hands in his pockets, thinking.
He'd have to get some furniture. He'd been informed by his superiors that he could, no, needed, to take a break from working. They said he'd been working constantly since they employed him, with the exception of a few short breaks to visit his family or help the Order.
He had several weeks of leave, giving him enough time to tell his family about Hermione, tell Hermione that he loved her, and a lot of time to spare for fretting to pieces about it. The only problem he had now was coming up with a way of how to tell her. Or his family, for that matter; Ron would go spare.
He would go absolutely bloody spare. He'd go totally mad. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to blows. His little brother had a notorious hot temper, and even though he was both stronger and more experienced than Ron, it wouldn't be nice having to fight him. He loved his brother dearly, but some times, he could be such a thick headed idiot.
Sighing, he walked out the door, snatching his coat along the way. He might as well distract himself by buying some furniture. He shut his eyes, willing for the vision of Hermione's smiling face to go away. Yes, he definitely needed something to distract him right now.
******'
Hermione was fully intending to spend the rest of the day sitting cuddled up by her window, reading a good book and daydreaming about Bill, when her mother called from downstairs. Sighing, she put down the book and headed down the stairs, wondering what her mother could possibly want now.
"What is it Mum?" She called, halfway down.
"Claire's here to see you." Her mother called back.
She quickened her steps; Claire was one of the few Muggle friends she could still get along with, even though Claire didn't know about the more magical aspects of her life. Claire had been a good friend, laughing with her when she was happy, comforting her when she was sad. She was a female version of Harry and Ron, really. She could still remember all the times when they used to go out together during the summer, transforming from sweet little girls to the official heirs to the Marauder's throne.
"Claire!" She shouted, holding out her arms to the dark haired girl by the door, nearly skipping down the last few steps.
"Hermione! Where have you been?" Claire exclaimed, hugging her.
"Mum, I'm going out with Claire!" She shouted back into the house as she grabbed her shoes, and hopping on one leg, put them on.
When she was done, she turned to Claire, smiling. She threw her arm around the smaller girl's shoulders, grinning widely.
"Have I got news for you, Claire." She told the girl.
"I don't know, have you?" Claire asked, eyes twinkling.
"Oh, I do, but maybe we should start with any questions you have, and go from there."
"Well, I was kinda wondering where you've been." Claire admitted.
"In Rome." Hermione grinned.
"You've been in Rome? No fair! I've wanted to go there all my life, and then you slip off without as much as a phone call? Injustice!" Claire shouted, although grinning.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, but when the chance comes by, why not jump at it?" Hermione asked.
"Whatever. So what did you do there?" Claire asked, curious.
"I worked, Claire. I worked."
"Worked? Why did you work when you were in one of the most romantic cities in the world? Hermione, you are so strange!" Claire accused, shaking her head.
"I know, but you like me anyway. I worked, because hat's what I came there to do. And as for ´most romantic place in the world´, well, maybe. I know it worked wonders for my love life, anyway." She smiled dreamily.
"What? You're kidding! Hermione's got a boyfriend! I can't believe it! I've waited so long for this moment! You're first boyfriend, Hermione, aren't you excited?" Claire asked, nearly bouncing up and down.
"It's not my first boyfriend, he's my third, but yes, I'm excited, because this time I think it'll last." Hermione said, grinning at her energetic friend.
"You've had two other boyfriends? Hermione, why didn't you tell me; I'm your best friend! Come on, we'll get an ice-cream, and you'll tell me about your boyfriend." She ordered, and dragged Hermione off towards an ice-cream stand.
*******'
Ending Notes; and that's that. I'm still not sure whether to let them break it to the Weasley family over summer, or wait until school begins. Why don't you tell me what you think?