Author's Notes: Since this chapter's rather short, I think I might just have a two for one deal today…two chapters for the price of one! And this has to be my favourite chapter so far…heh, heh, heh…^_~
Thanks for the plentiful reviews…those of you F.U.'ers who can't always review, do not fret! I am not a review Nazi! I'm okay with non-reviewingness due to the pressures of real life! So fear not, friends. The F.U. will always be there.
Special thanks to Ashii Black, who's F.U. songs are inspirations. To view these song wonders, see the reviews of this story.
Wednesday, 26 July
7:12 p.m.
With Monday's Weekly Goal #1 in mind, the second Ron and I were alone, I asked him for help.
We had moved on to Sirius's mother's old room, possibly the most disgusting and dangerous room in the house. Adding to this was Buckbeak, who was quite harmlessly munching on bones in the corner – but still, it was slightly unnerving to have to kneel and make eye contact and all every time we walked into the room.
A little bit after lunch, the five of us were toiling away when the doorbell rang, followed by the cacophony of people rushing about, Mrs. Black screaming, and Sirius yelling not to ring the doorbell began. The twins and Ginny exchanged meaningful looks, and then dropped their cleaning devices and stealthily slid out of the room to see who had arrived. I poked Ron with the broom I was holding once Ginny had closed the door behind her.
"I'm worried about Harry," I said very fast. Ron immediately stopped trying to pry a framed photograph of a cursing Mr. Black off a shelf.
"Me too," he said, turning to face me. And he looked it, too. His face was paler than usual, and I don't think he's been sleeping well. Today there were bags under his eyes.
"Ron, he's going to do something stupid, I know it," I said fervently. "Stuck at his relatives with no news and no one to talk to…and our stupid letters can't be helping…"
Ron paused and looked worried. "I know…but Dumbledore said…"
Hell has officially frozen over, for today was the day that I was pushing to break rules and Ron Weasley was reminding me to heed the words of the authoritative figure.
But he did have a point.
I made a frustrated sound and sat on Mrs. Black's bed. Then I quickly stood up, because I had sat on a bone Buckbeak had spit out. "Well, I was thinking that maybe we can talk to your dad…maybe he'll let Harry come here like I did. Then we won't have to break our word to Dumbledore, Harry will be right here!"
Ron brightened. "Yeah, Dad's really fond of Harry…and I mean, Sirius won't have any qualms about it, obviously!" He beamed at me. "Brilliant, Hermione, we'll talk to Dad."
I think I may have blushed or something. Really, Hermione.
But when we found him later that day, Mr. Weasley wasn't as enthusiastic as we had hoped. "Now I know you two want to see Harry," he said sympathetically when he returned from work and we accosted him. "But he really is safer where he is. Dumbledore wants him there for good reason."
Even Sirius, who is the only person that possibly wants to see Harry more than Ron and I do, nodded grimly in agreement.
"But Dad – " Ron began.
"You'll see him soon enough," Mr. Weasley tried to say encouragingly. Our shoulders slumped, and Mr. Weasley frowned. "And in the meantime, don't be forgetting your promise to Dumbledore. You swore, remember?"
"Yes," we both said flatly. Mr. Weasley smiled and left to go hang up his coat and greet his wife.
"See him soon enough," Ron muttered furiously. "Like in a month. Wouldn't Grimmauld Place be the safest place for him? I don't get it."
"Neither do I," I confessed as we headed down to the kitchen. It was empty, save for Crookshanks, who I scooped into my lap as we sat down across from each other at the long table.
"Well, we'll just have to get him a really wicked birthday present," Ron decided firmly.
I smiled at him. Then he did something rather unexpected – Ron smiled back, and sort of patted my hand awkwardly. Then he turned red and was suddenly very busy scrounging for food on the other end of the kitchen.
And I sort of…felt that…jump…in my stomach. But never mind, it's stupid. It is a waste of time to discuss any unfortunate, slightly non-platonic feelings that I may or may not have for a certain someone that I may or may not be best friends with who has red hair and a nice smile.
…
Really, this nonsense has got to stop. Curse whoever's brilliant idea it was to allow hormones to interfere with better judgement between the ages of thirteen and nineteen.
Revisions to Weekly Goals
4. Do not dwell upon trivial, hormone-induced, non-platonic feelings. Then continue on road to emotional satisfaction.
5. Find really good birthday present for Harry.