Disclaimer: Well. Here we are. Heh. It's taken me long enough to get a
story up here, but there you are. I didn't create any characters I have
written about - just the mad storyline for this mini fiction. So don't sue
me, I'm just a humble, bored teenager. :-) Also, this is a kind of Harry
Potter version of the film Freaky Friday, and I didn't create that either.
Note: Thank you reviewers for reviewing, also for telling me that this
chapter came out as one big paragraph! I don't really know what happened,
but I'm hoping this has fixed it. Thanks again :-D
Chapter Two - Where All Bizarreness Extends Ron stared.
Hermione had been rambling for the last five minutes or so, and he hadn't heard a word of it. His mind had been wandering even more than usual. He was watching his mouth move, and speak words that Ron himself would never speak, in a style, accent and tone that he would never use.
It was bizarre, to say the least.
To know that everyone else thought that it was Ron Weasley whispering furiously in the corner of the Public Library in Diagon Alley, and to know that it was actually Hermione Granger was even more bizarre.
So it wasn't surprising, really, that he wasn't listening. He was thinking about the strange morning that he had had. He had received Hermione's owl and - feeling insulted on the slur on how he treated his family - he had scrambled downstairs to ask Mr and Mrs Granger if he could have a lift.
And they said yes.
After a very long argument with the voices in his head about Hermione's clothes, he managed to put on a long denim skirt, trainers, and a blue jumper, with one of her coats over the top. This was the one thing that Hermione didn't have to criticize.
Meanwhile, Ron was furious with her. How dare she put on those jeans and that shirt! It made him look like a complete berk. His brothers must have been wetting themselves. He had gotten that outfit from an auntie of his for Christmas, and he hated it so much that he had never worn it. And there he was, sitting there, wearing it. Looking completely stupid, and un-Ron like.
But he didn't have time to tell her off about it, because she was babbling.
"... so I was thinking maybe a charm, because a Potion would be silly - surely we would have noticed - I've never heard of a Potion that the drinker can't feel drinking. Like the Polyjuice Potion. I mean, that tasted and felt disgusting. Unless someone tried to hide it. I mean we have to think about the purpose of the thing first, I suppose. Before we think about how we got like this. I mean, it's strange, isn't it? Maybe a prank. Do you think Fred and George could have - Ron? Ron! Are you listening to me at all?"
Ron blinked.
"Huh?"
"Ron!" Hermione snapped. "Pay attention. This is serious!"
"I know it is. My head's spinning. Can't you slow down a bit?"
"Alright." Hermione sighed. "We - have - to - think - of - the -"
"I mean, speak normally. Not like you've got ten seconds to explain the meaning of life."
Hermione looked put out. Which was strange in Ron's face. Ron made a mental note: he looked stupid when he pouted.
"We have to think of the reason why someone would do this. Unless we accidentally did it? I think we should get a piece of parchment and write all the possibilities of who would have made us like this and why." Hermione said all of this without breathing, and then inhaled deeply when she had finished. Ron blinked.
"Got some parchment, then?"
"No..." Hermione said, thoughtfully. "I didn't think of that, to be honest. I'll go and get some."
She wandered off, giving Ron the chance to look around. He was in awe at the size of the Public Library. He thought the one in Hogwarts was big - this was humongous. It was probably about five times bigger than the library at school, with thousands upon thousands upon thousands of shelves of books, stretching right up to the top of the enormous ceiling, where a few large lights glowed down on them. There were dozens of sofas and comfy chairs with huge tables in front of them. Hermione had picked a table right in the corner, where they wouldn't be seen.
He settled into the back of his armchair. Hermione came back with five rolls of parchment.
"Where did you get that from?" he asked lazily.
"You can buy it. And don't slump!"
Ron stayed where he was, scowling. "You're not my mother, Hermione. And how exactly did you buy it? I'm not full of money."
"I know. I took some from my purse."
She pointed to where the little denim purse with a butterfly stitched on it lay, on the table, where Ron had set it before.
"Oh." he said.
"And I know I'm not you're mother - but I don't sit like that, do I? I don't want people to think I've morphed into some lazy simpleton."
Ron blinked. "Oi! I'm not a lazy simpleton."
"I know, I didn't mean it like that." Hermione said, looking distracted.
"So you think this is all happy for me, do you? I don't want people to think I'm a stuck-up bookworm." Ron snapped.
Hermione looked up at him. There was cold look in her - well, Ron's - eyes. She stared at him for a very long moment, looking genuinely hurt.
"Sorry." Ron muttered. He sat up. "I didn't mean to say that. I'm just a bit stressed out."
Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything to his apology. "Right. Let's think. Wait a minute," she said, looking as though she had just had a new thought. "Do you think we should tell someone?"
"Like who?" Ron queried. "Do you really think that anyone's going to believe us anyway?
Hermione looked thoughtful. Ron made another mental note: looking thoughtful didn't suit him. "Well ... you might be right. Actually, yes. I don't think we should tell anyone until we've done some independent study. I mean, it would be so much more hassle if Dumbledore and McGonagoll and your parents and my parents knew. Everyone would make such a big fuss. I just want life to stay as normal as possible."
"I just don't want to be researching over the Christmas holidays." Ron muttered, but not loudly enough for Hermione to hear him.
"Now. We're going to have to be each other while we research, I suppose. It won't be too hard for you, your parents are used to me working all the time."
Ron blinked, thinking. And then he realised that could be taken as an insult.
"I do work!" he protested. "Sometimes."
"Well, you're going to have to now. Pretend you've got a big potions essay, or something." Hermione was looking thoughtful again. Ron winced. "Now ... what about you? Have you made any plans with people?"
"Harry's coming to stay for the last three days of the holiday." Ron said. "Hey, do you think we should tell Harry?"
Hermione fell silent. Ron thought about Harry knowing. The three of them were best friends ... they told each other everything.
But him knowing such a humiliating thing about them both was a bit too hard for Ron to handle.
"I don't think we should," Hermione said eventually. Ron wondered if she was worried about being embarrassed, too. "At least, not until we've fixed it."
Ron nodded.
"And I'm meeting Seamus, Dean and Neville on Monday."
Hermione sighed. "I haven't made any plans as yet."
"What about your parents?"
"They're going to the Annual Dentistry Practice Convention on Sunday, and will be there until Wednesday afternoon." Hermione said. "You won't have too many problems there."
"What about your brothers?" Hermione said suddenly, after a moments silence.
"What about them?"
"Well ... don't you think they'd notice ... that you're acting differently?"
Ron shrugged. "Not really. Fred and George aren't really around that much, because of their joke shop. And you know Percy ... always has his head in work. Bill and Charlie are away. It's only really me, Ginny, Mum and Dad around the house. And Ginny keeps going out all the time, too. And Mum's always busy, and so is Dad. I usually go out as well."
Hermione blinked. "Erm. Okay."
"Oh no." Ron groaned suddenly, flopping his head onto the table with a loud thump.
"Ron!" Hermione snapped. "Don't bruise me!"
"Sorry." Ron sat up again. "It's just - me and my brothers always play Quidditch on a Sunday. Always!"
Hermione's eyes widened in fear. "Oh, dear God. I can't play Quidditch! I can't even get on a broomstick without falling off again!"
"I know that!" Ron said. "Oh ... God ... okay, you'll just have to pretend that you've ... erm ... sprained an ankle or something."
"Do you use your ankles in Quidditch?" Hermione queried.
Ron thought.
"Sometimes."
The pair of them went quiet again. Then Hermione sat bolt upright, as though someone had just sparked up a light bulb over her head. Ron made yet another mental note: the insane genius look didn't really suit him at all.
He was beginning to wonder if anything suited him.
"I've got it!" she cried happily. People said, "Shhh!" so she lowered her voice to a whisper. "I've got it, Ron! I've really, really, really got it!"
"Oh, good." Ron said. "Well, if you feel like sharing it at any point, I'm here ..."
But Hermione was talking to herself, which she did quite often. It looked disturbing, especially as Ron was looking at himself. He looked especially schizophrenic when she did that.
"I know - I think - I've got it - if it's still there - it might not be - I'll have to take the - and go to the - to get the -"
"The what?" Ron hissed. "The what? WHAT IS IT?!"
But Hermione didn't say. She picked up Ron's - Hermione's! - purse, and bolted out of the library with it.
Ron sat there quietly, contemplating what might happen if he just ran away. And then someone coughed, and he spun around.
"Hello." It was a woman. Not just any woman; she was a very pretty woman. She had long, dark, glossy, curly hair, and was a bit curvy, but in a good way. She was smiling. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting. I know what it's like to be lost in my thoughts. Sometimes I just like to sit there and think, too. But you look a bit confused. Is there anything I can help you with?"
Ron's mouth dropped open. He hoped he wasn't going purple. His mind went blank for a moment and then he realised that she worked at the library, and therefore was paid to help confused looking people.
"Urm -" it took Ron a few moments to say something. "Yes. I'm researching for - a - school project. We've been asked to find out if - its possible - to switch people's minds, and personalities, with their bodies. So you wake up one morning only to find that you're not in your body, if you see what I mean."
"Well ..." the woman looked a bit taken aback, but she smiled. "I think ... I mean, I've never heard of such a spell ... but I could help. I suppose you'd like to look at Switching Spells. Is it for Transfiguration?"
"Um, it's a general question. For - extra marks."
"Ah." she smiled. "Well, if you come with me, I'll try to find some books that might be of help ..."
Ron would follow her to the moon if she was happy for him to. He pottered around after her until she finally found a shelf that looked promising. "You'll want this one - and this one - and this one - this is a potions book, about switching, it could be a potion that they're after - or if they want general theories about switching spells, then you'd better take these -"
She loaded him up with about ten books.
"Are you okay with those?"
"Yes! Of course." Ron said, trying to balance the teetering pile of books.
"Okay." to his immense surprise, she picked up about twice the amount of books that he was carrying. So not only was she clever, and pretty, but she was strong, too!
He let her go first, feeling that it would be more gentleman-like. She smiled and gently placed the stack of books on their table. "Okay. I think that should do you good. Check this one - I've read this one before, really helped me when I was in my sixth year at Hogwarts -" she picked up a very heavy, complicated looking book. "I've got a copy at home, it was so useful."
"Thank you," Ron said. "But how did you know I'm in my sixth year at Hogwarts?"
She smiled.
"I've seen you in here a lot. Ever since you started at Hogwarts, I think ... you seemed so keen to learn. So much like me at your age. Anyway. I remember the first day you came here. I had just started working here. You were just little, about ten or eleven ... and I remember thinking that was what I was like at that age. So eager to find out everything that the world wanted me to know. I suppose you're Muggle-born? Sorry if you're not. It's just, you seemed so surprised with the books when you first came here. I'm Muggle-born, too, you see."
Ron blinked. He had never set foot in this library before that day in his life. And then he remembered - he was Hermione.
She was helping him because she thought he was Hermione.
Great.
"Oh. Yes. I'm Muggle-born. I like the library ... it's really big ... and helpful."
She smiled.
"The librarians are helpful, too ..." he said, before he could stop himself.
"Thanks." she smiled. "Anyway ... I'll be over there if you need anything, okay?"
And then she walked off, helping another lone person at a table.
Deciding that he might as well play the part of Hermione properly - and besides, thinking about the librarian woman was too painful - he took some of the parchment and opened the book that she had suggested and copied out likely looking passages. He was quite into this, because it wasn't necessary for him to think all the confusing thoughts that kept nagging at him all the time, and was lost in his note taking when Hermione came back, holding a carrier bag and beaming.
"I found it!" she cried. The librarian lady said, "shh!" and Ron blushed.
"Shh." he muttered.
"What? Oh. Don't pay attention to her. Anyway." she smiled. "I found a walkie talkie!"
"Keep your voice down." Ron muttered, glancing at the librarian girl, who was now looking annoyed.
Hermione ignored him. "I'll explain it when we get back to my house. I've decided, it's better if we go there, I know how to work the computer. And Mum and Dad wont mind. We can say its for school."
The librarian was walking over. Ron hid his face behind the book in shame.
"Excuse me," she said to Hermione, "can you be quiet, please? This is a library. If you can't respect the rules, you can leave."
"Sorry." Hermione muttered, going red. Ron suddenly realised.
The woman thought that Ron Weasley was the rude one.
Oh, God.
"Stuck up bag." Hermione muttered when she walked off. Ron blinked. "She's been here ever since the first time I came here. Wearing daft, tight jeans and tops ... she looks ridiculous ... she's probably only here for the money, I bet she doesn't care about libraries one little bit ..."
"For your information," Ron whispered furiously, "she's really clever, and she found all of these books for me. Because she thought I was you. She's seen you! Since you were only a little boffin, and you were surprised by all the books, and she gathered that you were a Muggle-born because she is, too. And she likes you and respects you because you work all the time. So if I were you I'd keep your voice down if you're going to complain about things you don't understand!"
Hermione looked completely taken aback, as though Ron had just slapped her around the face. She went bright red and looked at the floor, and didn't say anything for a long while. Ron took a deep breath. Where had that come from?
Maybe he had a bit of Hermione's feisty-ness in him.
Who knew.
With a sigh, he closed the books and said, "Shall we get some of these out, and leave?"
Hermione nodded, still not saying anything. Ron got out ten of the books from the library; usually you were only allowed five, but it seemed that Hermione had been there so many times that she was allowed more.
"My God, you are a boffin!" Ron said in amazement once they were back outside. Hermione scowled and wrapped her coat around her. After a long silence, Ron said, "Well ... are you going to show me your idea, or not?"
Hermione brightened. "Yes. We'll go back to my house. We can walk, it's not too far."
Not too far! Ron thought, an hour later. Not too far! That's the longest I've walked in about five years. He sent a look over to Hermione, who was walking along briskly as though they had just been for a nice stroll in the park.
But they eventually got to Hermione's house. There was a note stuck to the fridge door:
Dear Hermione,
We've gone shopping to get a new quilt cover and a few bits and bobs. We'll be back soon.
Love Mum and Dad.
"Oh." Hermione said. "Well, at least we can practice with the walkie talkies in peace."
Ron hung around and asked questions, wanting to know what Hermione was on about. But every time he asked something, she snapped at him, so he went to get a glass of water from the kitchen and left her in peace.
A while later, she rushed in, grinning from ear to ear.
"I've got it!" she cried. She handed Ron a small, black contraption. "It's a walkie talkie. You press that button and you talk into it, and I'll hear it on the other end."
Ron blinked.
"Go upstairs and we'll see if it works."
Ron did so, being too tired to complain about her bossing him around. He walked along the hallway and into her room and flopped onto her bed, waited for a few moments, and then jumped as he heard the thing crackle.
"Hermione to Ron, Hermione to Ron, over."
Ron rolled his eyes and said, "Ron to Hermione, Ron to Hermione, that sounds sad, over."
"Shut up, Ron. Over."
He decided that he couldn't be bothered to move, and he would let her come to him. He sighed and looked around. Something on the bedside table caught his eye. It was blue with stitching in it, like Hermione's purse. Only it said "Hermione's Diary."
"Ron, are you there? Things are looking up! Come downstairs! Over."
Ron grinned.
Things were looking up indeed ...
Chapter Two - Where All Bizarreness Extends Ron stared.
Hermione had been rambling for the last five minutes or so, and he hadn't heard a word of it. His mind had been wandering even more than usual. He was watching his mouth move, and speak words that Ron himself would never speak, in a style, accent and tone that he would never use.
It was bizarre, to say the least.
To know that everyone else thought that it was Ron Weasley whispering furiously in the corner of the Public Library in Diagon Alley, and to know that it was actually Hermione Granger was even more bizarre.
So it wasn't surprising, really, that he wasn't listening. He was thinking about the strange morning that he had had. He had received Hermione's owl and - feeling insulted on the slur on how he treated his family - he had scrambled downstairs to ask Mr and Mrs Granger if he could have a lift.
And they said yes.
After a very long argument with the voices in his head about Hermione's clothes, he managed to put on a long denim skirt, trainers, and a blue jumper, with one of her coats over the top. This was the one thing that Hermione didn't have to criticize.
Meanwhile, Ron was furious with her. How dare she put on those jeans and that shirt! It made him look like a complete berk. His brothers must have been wetting themselves. He had gotten that outfit from an auntie of his for Christmas, and he hated it so much that he had never worn it. And there he was, sitting there, wearing it. Looking completely stupid, and un-Ron like.
But he didn't have time to tell her off about it, because she was babbling.
"... so I was thinking maybe a charm, because a Potion would be silly - surely we would have noticed - I've never heard of a Potion that the drinker can't feel drinking. Like the Polyjuice Potion. I mean, that tasted and felt disgusting. Unless someone tried to hide it. I mean we have to think about the purpose of the thing first, I suppose. Before we think about how we got like this. I mean, it's strange, isn't it? Maybe a prank. Do you think Fred and George could have - Ron? Ron! Are you listening to me at all?"
Ron blinked.
"Huh?"
"Ron!" Hermione snapped. "Pay attention. This is serious!"
"I know it is. My head's spinning. Can't you slow down a bit?"
"Alright." Hermione sighed. "We - have - to - think - of - the -"
"I mean, speak normally. Not like you've got ten seconds to explain the meaning of life."
Hermione looked put out. Which was strange in Ron's face. Ron made a mental note: he looked stupid when he pouted.
"We have to think of the reason why someone would do this. Unless we accidentally did it? I think we should get a piece of parchment and write all the possibilities of who would have made us like this and why." Hermione said all of this without breathing, and then inhaled deeply when she had finished. Ron blinked.
"Got some parchment, then?"
"No..." Hermione said, thoughtfully. "I didn't think of that, to be honest. I'll go and get some."
She wandered off, giving Ron the chance to look around. He was in awe at the size of the Public Library. He thought the one in Hogwarts was big - this was humongous. It was probably about five times bigger than the library at school, with thousands upon thousands upon thousands of shelves of books, stretching right up to the top of the enormous ceiling, where a few large lights glowed down on them. There were dozens of sofas and comfy chairs with huge tables in front of them. Hermione had picked a table right in the corner, where they wouldn't be seen.
He settled into the back of his armchair. Hermione came back with five rolls of parchment.
"Where did you get that from?" he asked lazily.
"You can buy it. And don't slump!"
Ron stayed where he was, scowling. "You're not my mother, Hermione. And how exactly did you buy it? I'm not full of money."
"I know. I took some from my purse."
She pointed to where the little denim purse with a butterfly stitched on it lay, on the table, where Ron had set it before.
"Oh." he said.
"And I know I'm not you're mother - but I don't sit like that, do I? I don't want people to think I've morphed into some lazy simpleton."
Ron blinked. "Oi! I'm not a lazy simpleton."
"I know, I didn't mean it like that." Hermione said, looking distracted.
"So you think this is all happy for me, do you? I don't want people to think I'm a stuck-up bookworm." Ron snapped.
Hermione looked up at him. There was cold look in her - well, Ron's - eyes. She stared at him for a very long moment, looking genuinely hurt.
"Sorry." Ron muttered. He sat up. "I didn't mean to say that. I'm just a bit stressed out."
Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything to his apology. "Right. Let's think. Wait a minute," she said, looking as though she had just had a new thought. "Do you think we should tell someone?"
"Like who?" Ron queried. "Do you really think that anyone's going to believe us anyway?
Hermione looked thoughtful. Ron made another mental note: looking thoughtful didn't suit him. "Well ... you might be right. Actually, yes. I don't think we should tell anyone until we've done some independent study. I mean, it would be so much more hassle if Dumbledore and McGonagoll and your parents and my parents knew. Everyone would make such a big fuss. I just want life to stay as normal as possible."
"I just don't want to be researching over the Christmas holidays." Ron muttered, but not loudly enough for Hermione to hear him.
"Now. We're going to have to be each other while we research, I suppose. It won't be too hard for you, your parents are used to me working all the time."
Ron blinked, thinking. And then he realised that could be taken as an insult.
"I do work!" he protested. "Sometimes."
"Well, you're going to have to now. Pretend you've got a big potions essay, or something." Hermione was looking thoughtful again. Ron winced. "Now ... what about you? Have you made any plans with people?"
"Harry's coming to stay for the last three days of the holiday." Ron said. "Hey, do you think we should tell Harry?"
Hermione fell silent. Ron thought about Harry knowing. The three of them were best friends ... they told each other everything.
But him knowing such a humiliating thing about them both was a bit too hard for Ron to handle.
"I don't think we should," Hermione said eventually. Ron wondered if she was worried about being embarrassed, too. "At least, not until we've fixed it."
Ron nodded.
"And I'm meeting Seamus, Dean and Neville on Monday."
Hermione sighed. "I haven't made any plans as yet."
"What about your parents?"
"They're going to the Annual Dentistry Practice Convention on Sunday, and will be there until Wednesday afternoon." Hermione said. "You won't have too many problems there."
"What about your brothers?" Hermione said suddenly, after a moments silence.
"What about them?"
"Well ... don't you think they'd notice ... that you're acting differently?"
Ron shrugged. "Not really. Fred and George aren't really around that much, because of their joke shop. And you know Percy ... always has his head in work. Bill and Charlie are away. It's only really me, Ginny, Mum and Dad around the house. And Ginny keeps going out all the time, too. And Mum's always busy, and so is Dad. I usually go out as well."
Hermione blinked. "Erm. Okay."
"Oh no." Ron groaned suddenly, flopping his head onto the table with a loud thump.
"Ron!" Hermione snapped. "Don't bruise me!"
"Sorry." Ron sat up again. "It's just - me and my brothers always play Quidditch on a Sunday. Always!"
Hermione's eyes widened in fear. "Oh, dear God. I can't play Quidditch! I can't even get on a broomstick without falling off again!"
"I know that!" Ron said. "Oh ... God ... okay, you'll just have to pretend that you've ... erm ... sprained an ankle or something."
"Do you use your ankles in Quidditch?" Hermione queried.
Ron thought.
"Sometimes."
The pair of them went quiet again. Then Hermione sat bolt upright, as though someone had just sparked up a light bulb over her head. Ron made yet another mental note: the insane genius look didn't really suit him at all.
He was beginning to wonder if anything suited him.
"I've got it!" she cried happily. People said, "Shhh!" so she lowered her voice to a whisper. "I've got it, Ron! I've really, really, really got it!"
"Oh, good." Ron said. "Well, if you feel like sharing it at any point, I'm here ..."
But Hermione was talking to herself, which she did quite often. It looked disturbing, especially as Ron was looking at himself. He looked especially schizophrenic when she did that.
"I know - I think - I've got it - if it's still there - it might not be - I'll have to take the - and go to the - to get the -"
"The what?" Ron hissed. "The what? WHAT IS IT?!"
But Hermione didn't say. She picked up Ron's - Hermione's! - purse, and bolted out of the library with it.
Ron sat there quietly, contemplating what might happen if he just ran away. And then someone coughed, and he spun around.
"Hello." It was a woman. Not just any woman; she was a very pretty woman. She had long, dark, glossy, curly hair, and was a bit curvy, but in a good way. She was smiling. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting. I know what it's like to be lost in my thoughts. Sometimes I just like to sit there and think, too. But you look a bit confused. Is there anything I can help you with?"
Ron's mouth dropped open. He hoped he wasn't going purple. His mind went blank for a moment and then he realised that she worked at the library, and therefore was paid to help confused looking people.
"Urm -" it took Ron a few moments to say something. "Yes. I'm researching for - a - school project. We've been asked to find out if - its possible - to switch people's minds, and personalities, with their bodies. So you wake up one morning only to find that you're not in your body, if you see what I mean."
"Well ..." the woman looked a bit taken aback, but she smiled. "I think ... I mean, I've never heard of such a spell ... but I could help. I suppose you'd like to look at Switching Spells. Is it for Transfiguration?"
"Um, it's a general question. For - extra marks."
"Ah." she smiled. "Well, if you come with me, I'll try to find some books that might be of help ..."
Ron would follow her to the moon if she was happy for him to. He pottered around after her until she finally found a shelf that looked promising. "You'll want this one - and this one - and this one - this is a potions book, about switching, it could be a potion that they're after - or if they want general theories about switching spells, then you'd better take these -"
She loaded him up with about ten books.
"Are you okay with those?"
"Yes! Of course." Ron said, trying to balance the teetering pile of books.
"Okay." to his immense surprise, she picked up about twice the amount of books that he was carrying. So not only was she clever, and pretty, but she was strong, too!
He let her go first, feeling that it would be more gentleman-like. She smiled and gently placed the stack of books on their table. "Okay. I think that should do you good. Check this one - I've read this one before, really helped me when I was in my sixth year at Hogwarts -" she picked up a very heavy, complicated looking book. "I've got a copy at home, it was so useful."
"Thank you," Ron said. "But how did you know I'm in my sixth year at Hogwarts?"
She smiled.
"I've seen you in here a lot. Ever since you started at Hogwarts, I think ... you seemed so keen to learn. So much like me at your age. Anyway. I remember the first day you came here. I had just started working here. You were just little, about ten or eleven ... and I remember thinking that was what I was like at that age. So eager to find out everything that the world wanted me to know. I suppose you're Muggle-born? Sorry if you're not. It's just, you seemed so surprised with the books when you first came here. I'm Muggle-born, too, you see."
Ron blinked. He had never set foot in this library before that day in his life. And then he remembered - he was Hermione.
She was helping him because she thought he was Hermione.
Great.
"Oh. Yes. I'm Muggle-born. I like the library ... it's really big ... and helpful."
She smiled.
"The librarians are helpful, too ..." he said, before he could stop himself.
"Thanks." she smiled. "Anyway ... I'll be over there if you need anything, okay?"
And then she walked off, helping another lone person at a table.
Deciding that he might as well play the part of Hermione properly - and besides, thinking about the librarian woman was too painful - he took some of the parchment and opened the book that she had suggested and copied out likely looking passages. He was quite into this, because it wasn't necessary for him to think all the confusing thoughts that kept nagging at him all the time, and was lost in his note taking when Hermione came back, holding a carrier bag and beaming.
"I found it!" she cried. The librarian lady said, "shh!" and Ron blushed.
"Shh." he muttered.
"What? Oh. Don't pay attention to her. Anyway." she smiled. "I found a walkie talkie!"
"Keep your voice down." Ron muttered, glancing at the librarian girl, who was now looking annoyed.
Hermione ignored him. "I'll explain it when we get back to my house. I've decided, it's better if we go there, I know how to work the computer. And Mum and Dad wont mind. We can say its for school."
The librarian was walking over. Ron hid his face behind the book in shame.
"Excuse me," she said to Hermione, "can you be quiet, please? This is a library. If you can't respect the rules, you can leave."
"Sorry." Hermione muttered, going red. Ron suddenly realised.
The woman thought that Ron Weasley was the rude one.
Oh, God.
"Stuck up bag." Hermione muttered when she walked off. Ron blinked. "She's been here ever since the first time I came here. Wearing daft, tight jeans and tops ... she looks ridiculous ... she's probably only here for the money, I bet she doesn't care about libraries one little bit ..."
"For your information," Ron whispered furiously, "she's really clever, and she found all of these books for me. Because she thought I was you. She's seen you! Since you were only a little boffin, and you were surprised by all the books, and she gathered that you were a Muggle-born because she is, too. And she likes you and respects you because you work all the time. So if I were you I'd keep your voice down if you're going to complain about things you don't understand!"
Hermione looked completely taken aback, as though Ron had just slapped her around the face. She went bright red and looked at the floor, and didn't say anything for a long while. Ron took a deep breath. Where had that come from?
Maybe he had a bit of Hermione's feisty-ness in him.
Who knew.
With a sigh, he closed the books and said, "Shall we get some of these out, and leave?"
Hermione nodded, still not saying anything. Ron got out ten of the books from the library; usually you were only allowed five, but it seemed that Hermione had been there so many times that she was allowed more.
"My God, you are a boffin!" Ron said in amazement once they were back outside. Hermione scowled and wrapped her coat around her. After a long silence, Ron said, "Well ... are you going to show me your idea, or not?"
Hermione brightened. "Yes. We'll go back to my house. We can walk, it's not too far."
Not too far! Ron thought, an hour later. Not too far! That's the longest I've walked in about five years. He sent a look over to Hermione, who was walking along briskly as though they had just been for a nice stroll in the park.
But they eventually got to Hermione's house. There was a note stuck to the fridge door:
Dear Hermione,
We've gone shopping to get a new quilt cover and a few bits and bobs. We'll be back soon.
Love Mum and Dad.
"Oh." Hermione said. "Well, at least we can practice with the walkie talkies in peace."
Ron hung around and asked questions, wanting to know what Hermione was on about. But every time he asked something, she snapped at him, so he went to get a glass of water from the kitchen and left her in peace.
A while later, she rushed in, grinning from ear to ear.
"I've got it!" she cried. She handed Ron a small, black contraption. "It's a walkie talkie. You press that button and you talk into it, and I'll hear it on the other end."
Ron blinked.
"Go upstairs and we'll see if it works."
Ron did so, being too tired to complain about her bossing him around. He walked along the hallway and into her room and flopped onto her bed, waited for a few moments, and then jumped as he heard the thing crackle.
"Hermione to Ron, Hermione to Ron, over."
Ron rolled his eyes and said, "Ron to Hermione, Ron to Hermione, that sounds sad, over."
"Shut up, Ron. Over."
He decided that he couldn't be bothered to move, and he would let her come to him. He sighed and looked around. Something on the bedside table caught his eye. It was blue with stitching in it, like Hermione's purse. Only it said "Hermione's Diary."
"Ron, are you there? Things are looking up! Come downstairs! Over."
Ron grinned.
Things were looking up indeed ...