"A lot more happened, later at Grimmauld Place, then at Hogwarts. Do you
still want to hear it?"
"Sure."
Ron nodded, then stood and helped himself to a drink from Harry's glass of milk. Wiping his mouth, he sat back down on his own bed.
"Okay. Well, we left for Grimmauld Place a few days later." Ron grimaced, remembering the creepy house of Sirius' family. "That place was really horrible, Harry."
Harry nodded. "I know." He had just recently found out that he and Remus Lupin had inherited the house from Sirius, along with other assets from his estate. Lupin was in control of Harry's share of the inheritance until Harry came of age. But Harry wasn't sure he would ever want anything that had belonged to the Black family.
"It was even worse when we first got there. By the time you came, we had helped Mum clear out a lot of the dark arts stuff. It was like that house knew that Hermione is muggle-born. That awful picture of Sirius' mum started calling her names the moment we walked in. And that wasn't the worst of it. That house hated all of us, but it seemed to have it in for Hermione. We tried to tell her to let us take care of things, but she insisted on helping..."
~~~~~~~~~
Ron and Hermione were in one of the bedrooms, clearing out the last few remaining items in a large wardrobe. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had gone to prepare lunch a few minutes earlier. Fred and George had been out the door and headed for their room to work on their latest concoction almost the moment Mrs. Weasley had disappeared into the kitchen.
The pair worked quietly, neither enjoying the task at hand. Hermione was standing on a stepstool in order to reach the highest shelf, having waved off Ron's insistence that he was taller and could take care of the topmost shelves. There was a healing scratch across her left cheek, and she was favoring her right hand, which bore a large bandage, and handling the objects in the wardrobe with deliberate but determined care. Every so often, Ron glanced up at his friend, as though to satisfy himself that nothing had attacked her yet.
It happened very suddenly. As Hermione reached for a huge, ugly, steel- toned clock, it grabbed her with its long blood-red hands, wrapping them around her forearm. She gasped and jerked backwards, almost toppling off the stepstool, the clock still attached to her arm. Ron instinctively caught her around the waist and helped her step down while she pulled at the clock with her left hand, tears in her eyes. Still steadying her with his right arm around her, he helped her unwrap the clock's hands from her arm. They fought with it for several minutes; its hands were literally steel bands, and they held tight. Finally, it fell to the floor with a clang, then used its hands to pull itself across the carpet and behind the wardrobe.
Ron and Hermione carefully examined her arm. There was no blood, but dark bruises were already appearing where the clock had squeezed her tightly. Hermione drew a shuddering breath, and Ron looked at her sharply. "Are you all right?"
She nodded, unable to speak, trying to fight the tears that were threatening. She stood quietly for a moment, biting her lip, then she shook her head slowly. She had put her left hand on Ron's shoulder to steady herself, and now her forehead joined it as she leaned against him, crying softly.
Keeping one arm around her waist, Ron patted her head, trying not to notice his discomfort at her closeness. "Hermione...if I could...I'd never let anything hurt you," he whispered.
"I know." She leaned against him for a few more moments, then she straightened up, wiping her eyes. She smiled at Ron's look of concern. "Really, Ron, I'm all right. Really." But Ron could see that she was moving her arm gingerly.
As she started to climb back up onto the stepstool, she stumbled, and Ron reached out to steady her once more. "Hermione...don't. Let me do that."
"Don't be silly, Ron, I'm fine. I was just startled, that's all." She climbed carefully onto the stepstool, Ron ready to catch her if she fell. When she reached the top step, she looked down at him and smiled. "See...I'm all right." She turned toward the wardrobe. "Let's finish this job and have lunch, I'm starved."
Ron watched her, astounded. "Have I ever told you you're amazing?" Ron said without thinking. He blushed when he realized the implication of his statement.
Hermione looked back down at Ron, surprised. "Thank you, Ron," she said quietly. "That means a lot to me."
Ron cleared his throat nervously as their eyes met. "No problem," he muttered, then he turned back to work.
~~~~~~~~~
"That was the worst attack, but by the time you got here, Hermione had been bitten, scratched, and burned. But she wouldn't give up."
Harry felt very guilty. He had been thinking about himself all during last summer, he had been mad at Ron and Hermione for being together someplace without him, and all the time Hermione had been suffering at the hands of Grimmauld Place. He had even told Hedwig to peck Ron and Hermione, and now he wondered if the marks he had seen on Hermione's hands when he arrived at headquarters had all been from Hedwig's beak. He felt even worse, realizing something: they hadn't told him about Hermione's injuries, probably because he had been so wrapped up in his own problems.
"And when I got to Grimmauld Place, all I could do was complain about everything that had happened to me. I should apologize to her," Harry said miserably.
Ron dismissed his statement with a wave of his hand. "No, that's all right. We were worried about you. And you had been attacked by dementors, mate. No, Hermione understood, trust me. She used to worry and talk about you so much, that I...well...I began to think maybe she fancied you," Ron admitted reluctantly as Harry looked surprised. "And I didn't know what I would do if she did. On one hand, you're my best friend. On the other...to let you have the girl that I wanted...I didn't think I could do it. I felt bad whenever I thought about beating you bloody..."
"Thanks a lot!" Harry said, laughing.
Ron shrugged, blushing but laughing, too. "What can I say? Anyway, I finally asked Ginny...trying to act like I didn't care..."
~~~~~~~~~
Ron knocked on the door of the bedroom that Ginny and Hermione were sharing. He knew that Hermione was downstairs, reading, and that Ginny was alone. He opened the door upon hearing her yell "come in" and found her sitting at the desk, writing a letter. He wandered over and sat down on her bed.
"What's up?" Ginny asked, not looking up from her parchment.
"Nothing much. Who're you writing to?"
"Harry", she replied, giving Ron the opening he was needing. "Poor guy--I hate not being able to tell him anything important."
"Er...do you still have feelings for Harry?" Ron asked carefully. Ginny stiffened and turned toward him, blushing.
"No. That was a long time ago and you know it. I was a little kid. I've grown up a lot since then. So don't you start with me, Ronald Weasley."
Ron held up both hands defensively, aware of Ginny's proficiency with a certain Bat-Bogey curse. "Okay, okay...I was just wondering..."
Ginny glared at him for another moment, then turned back to her letter. Ron watched her, trying to word his next question.
"So," he began, "do you know of any girls at Hogwarts who do fancy Harry?"
"Why the sudden interest in Harry's love life?" Ginny asked, not looking up.
"No reason," he said carelessly. He waited a few minutes. "So, do you?"
Ginny snorted and continued writing. "Well, there are several girls in my year and in the younger years who think he's cute. They go around giggling about him."
"Oh...any girls in my year?"
Ginny sighed impatiently, then put down her quill and turned to him. "None that I know of, Ron. Why?" She examined his face for a moment, then suddenly grinned. "You're wanting to know if Hermione likes Harry, aren't you?"
Ron blushed, wondering when Ginny became so intuitive. "No," he insisted, snorting as though the thought was ridiculous. Ginny continued to stare at him, grinning. "Well...does she?" he asked grudgingly.
Ginny laughed and went back to writing. "No clue. Why don't you ask her?"
"Thanks for nothing!" Ron said as he stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.
He went downstairs and looked into the parlor. Hermione was curled up on the end of the sofa, reading. There was no one else around. Ron wandered into the room and sat down on the opposite end, nonchalantly, he hoped.
Hermione looked up briefly and smiled at him. "Hi," she said, turning back to her book.
Ron just nodded in greeting, then he sat there, debating with himself. Reaching a sudden decision, he almost blurted out, "written to Harry lately?"
Hermione marked her place and closed her book, sitting up. "Yes, a few days ago when we both wrote the letter. Remember?"
"Oh...yeah." He thought for a moment. "You've been very worried about Harry, haven't you?"
"Yes. We all have." She looked at Ron questioningly. "Why?"
"You know Harry fancies that girl in Ravenclaw, Cho Chang, right?" Ron said desperately, changing tactics.
"Yes. Ron, are you feeling all right?"
"What do you think about that?"
"About Cho? Well, I suppose she's all right. She seems very nice, and she's certainly smart. And she and Harry have Quidditch in common, so I suppose..."
"So it doesn't bother you that he fancies her."
"Harry? No. Should it?"
Ron sighed, feeling relief. But it was short-lived.
"I do love Harry very much, though, and I worry that he may place his trust in her before he knows her very well, and..."
Ron had heard nothing after the words "love Harry", and he felt simultaneous panic, hurt, and yes, fury at a certain dark-haired friend of his. "You love Harry?", he sputtered increduously.
"Well, yes," Hermione looked at Ron like he had taken leave of his senses. "You do too, don't you? He's like a brother to us, after all."
Ron slowly realized the kind of "love" Hermione meant, and he felt his heart start to climb back into its rightful place in his chest. "Oh...you don't fancy him, then?"
Hermione looked stunned. "Harry? No. Is that what you thought I meant? No, I love Harry like a brother. I could never think of him any other way."
Ron took a deep breath and forced himself to say the words before he could think about them too much. "Do you fancy someone else?" he asked nervously, almost whispering.
Hermione blushed and looked away. "Why do you ask?"
Her reaction was almost answer enough to Ron, but he said anyway, "I'm just curious, that's all."
Hermione chewed on her lower lip, thinking. She looked at her hands in her lap. "I can't really answer that, Ron. I'm sorry. Just let me say...you have nothing to worry about...if you are worried, that is..."
"I just don't want you to be hurt, that's all," Ron said somewhat defensively.
She looked up at him and smiled. "Oh, don't worry. If he could, he would never let anything hurt me..."
~~~~~~~~~
"Which is exactly what I had told her after that clock attacked her. I told her I would never let anything hurt her if I could help it."
"And you still didn't get it. And I thought Crabbe and Goyle were thick...", Harry laughed and Ron joined him.
"I'll tell you the rest in a bit--let me go get something to drink, though," Ron said, standing up and stretching. "Be right back..."
"Sure."
Ron nodded, then stood and helped himself to a drink from Harry's glass of milk. Wiping his mouth, he sat back down on his own bed.
"Okay. Well, we left for Grimmauld Place a few days later." Ron grimaced, remembering the creepy house of Sirius' family. "That place was really horrible, Harry."
Harry nodded. "I know." He had just recently found out that he and Remus Lupin had inherited the house from Sirius, along with other assets from his estate. Lupin was in control of Harry's share of the inheritance until Harry came of age. But Harry wasn't sure he would ever want anything that had belonged to the Black family.
"It was even worse when we first got there. By the time you came, we had helped Mum clear out a lot of the dark arts stuff. It was like that house knew that Hermione is muggle-born. That awful picture of Sirius' mum started calling her names the moment we walked in. And that wasn't the worst of it. That house hated all of us, but it seemed to have it in for Hermione. We tried to tell her to let us take care of things, but she insisted on helping..."
~~~~~~~~~
Ron and Hermione were in one of the bedrooms, clearing out the last few remaining items in a large wardrobe. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had gone to prepare lunch a few minutes earlier. Fred and George had been out the door and headed for their room to work on their latest concoction almost the moment Mrs. Weasley had disappeared into the kitchen.
The pair worked quietly, neither enjoying the task at hand. Hermione was standing on a stepstool in order to reach the highest shelf, having waved off Ron's insistence that he was taller and could take care of the topmost shelves. There was a healing scratch across her left cheek, and she was favoring her right hand, which bore a large bandage, and handling the objects in the wardrobe with deliberate but determined care. Every so often, Ron glanced up at his friend, as though to satisfy himself that nothing had attacked her yet.
It happened very suddenly. As Hermione reached for a huge, ugly, steel- toned clock, it grabbed her with its long blood-red hands, wrapping them around her forearm. She gasped and jerked backwards, almost toppling off the stepstool, the clock still attached to her arm. Ron instinctively caught her around the waist and helped her step down while she pulled at the clock with her left hand, tears in her eyes. Still steadying her with his right arm around her, he helped her unwrap the clock's hands from her arm. They fought with it for several minutes; its hands were literally steel bands, and they held tight. Finally, it fell to the floor with a clang, then used its hands to pull itself across the carpet and behind the wardrobe.
Ron and Hermione carefully examined her arm. There was no blood, but dark bruises were already appearing where the clock had squeezed her tightly. Hermione drew a shuddering breath, and Ron looked at her sharply. "Are you all right?"
She nodded, unable to speak, trying to fight the tears that were threatening. She stood quietly for a moment, biting her lip, then she shook her head slowly. She had put her left hand on Ron's shoulder to steady herself, and now her forehead joined it as she leaned against him, crying softly.
Keeping one arm around her waist, Ron patted her head, trying not to notice his discomfort at her closeness. "Hermione...if I could...I'd never let anything hurt you," he whispered.
"I know." She leaned against him for a few more moments, then she straightened up, wiping her eyes. She smiled at Ron's look of concern. "Really, Ron, I'm all right. Really." But Ron could see that she was moving her arm gingerly.
As she started to climb back up onto the stepstool, she stumbled, and Ron reached out to steady her once more. "Hermione...don't. Let me do that."
"Don't be silly, Ron, I'm fine. I was just startled, that's all." She climbed carefully onto the stepstool, Ron ready to catch her if she fell. When she reached the top step, she looked down at him and smiled. "See...I'm all right." She turned toward the wardrobe. "Let's finish this job and have lunch, I'm starved."
Ron watched her, astounded. "Have I ever told you you're amazing?" Ron said without thinking. He blushed when he realized the implication of his statement.
Hermione looked back down at Ron, surprised. "Thank you, Ron," she said quietly. "That means a lot to me."
Ron cleared his throat nervously as their eyes met. "No problem," he muttered, then he turned back to work.
~~~~~~~~~
"That was the worst attack, but by the time you got here, Hermione had been bitten, scratched, and burned. But she wouldn't give up."
Harry felt very guilty. He had been thinking about himself all during last summer, he had been mad at Ron and Hermione for being together someplace without him, and all the time Hermione had been suffering at the hands of Grimmauld Place. He had even told Hedwig to peck Ron and Hermione, and now he wondered if the marks he had seen on Hermione's hands when he arrived at headquarters had all been from Hedwig's beak. He felt even worse, realizing something: they hadn't told him about Hermione's injuries, probably because he had been so wrapped up in his own problems.
"And when I got to Grimmauld Place, all I could do was complain about everything that had happened to me. I should apologize to her," Harry said miserably.
Ron dismissed his statement with a wave of his hand. "No, that's all right. We were worried about you. And you had been attacked by dementors, mate. No, Hermione understood, trust me. She used to worry and talk about you so much, that I...well...I began to think maybe she fancied you," Ron admitted reluctantly as Harry looked surprised. "And I didn't know what I would do if she did. On one hand, you're my best friend. On the other...to let you have the girl that I wanted...I didn't think I could do it. I felt bad whenever I thought about beating you bloody..."
"Thanks a lot!" Harry said, laughing.
Ron shrugged, blushing but laughing, too. "What can I say? Anyway, I finally asked Ginny...trying to act like I didn't care..."
~~~~~~~~~
Ron knocked on the door of the bedroom that Ginny and Hermione were sharing. He knew that Hermione was downstairs, reading, and that Ginny was alone. He opened the door upon hearing her yell "come in" and found her sitting at the desk, writing a letter. He wandered over and sat down on her bed.
"What's up?" Ginny asked, not looking up from her parchment.
"Nothing much. Who're you writing to?"
"Harry", she replied, giving Ron the opening he was needing. "Poor guy--I hate not being able to tell him anything important."
"Er...do you still have feelings for Harry?" Ron asked carefully. Ginny stiffened and turned toward him, blushing.
"No. That was a long time ago and you know it. I was a little kid. I've grown up a lot since then. So don't you start with me, Ronald Weasley."
Ron held up both hands defensively, aware of Ginny's proficiency with a certain Bat-Bogey curse. "Okay, okay...I was just wondering..."
Ginny glared at him for another moment, then turned back to her letter. Ron watched her, trying to word his next question.
"So," he began, "do you know of any girls at Hogwarts who do fancy Harry?"
"Why the sudden interest in Harry's love life?" Ginny asked, not looking up.
"No reason," he said carelessly. He waited a few minutes. "So, do you?"
Ginny snorted and continued writing. "Well, there are several girls in my year and in the younger years who think he's cute. They go around giggling about him."
"Oh...any girls in my year?"
Ginny sighed impatiently, then put down her quill and turned to him. "None that I know of, Ron. Why?" She examined his face for a moment, then suddenly grinned. "You're wanting to know if Hermione likes Harry, aren't you?"
Ron blushed, wondering when Ginny became so intuitive. "No," he insisted, snorting as though the thought was ridiculous. Ginny continued to stare at him, grinning. "Well...does she?" he asked grudgingly.
Ginny laughed and went back to writing. "No clue. Why don't you ask her?"
"Thanks for nothing!" Ron said as he stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.
He went downstairs and looked into the parlor. Hermione was curled up on the end of the sofa, reading. There was no one else around. Ron wandered into the room and sat down on the opposite end, nonchalantly, he hoped.
Hermione looked up briefly and smiled at him. "Hi," she said, turning back to her book.
Ron just nodded in greeting, then he sat there, debating with himself. Reaching a sudden decision, he almost blurted out, "written to Harry lately?"
Hermione marked her place and closed her book, sitting up. "Yes, a few days ago when we both wrote the letter. Remember?"
"Oh...yeah." He thought for a moment. "You've been very worried about Harry, haven't you?"
"Yes. We all have." She looked at Ron questioningly. "Why?"
"You know Harry fancies that girl in Ravenclaw, Cho Chang, right?" Ron said desperately, changing tactics.
"Yes. Ron, are you feeling all right?"
"What do you think about that?"
"About Cho? Well, I suppose she's all right. She seems very nice, and she's certainly smart. And she and Harry have Quidditch in common, so I suppose..."
"So it doesn't bother you that he fancies her."
"Harry? No. Should it?"
Ron sighed, feeling relief. But it was short-lived.
"I do love Harry very much, though, and I worry that he may place his trust in her before he knows her very well, and..."
Ron had heard nothing after the words "love Harry", and he felt simultaneous panic, hurt, and yes, fury at a certain dark-haired friend of his. "You love Harry?", he sputtered increduously.
"Well, yes," Hermione looked at Ron like he had taken leave of his senses. "You do too, don't you? He's like a brother to us, after all."
Ron slowly realized the kind of "love" Hermione meant, and he felt his heart start to climb back into its rightful place in his chest. "Oh...you don't fancy him, then?"
Hermione looked stunned. "Harry? No. Is that what you thought I meant? No, I love Harry like a brother. I could never think of him any other way."
Ron took a deep breath and forced himself to say the words before he could think about them too much. "Do you fancy someone else?" he asked nervously, almost whispering.
Hermione blushed and looked away. "Why do you ask?"
Her reaction was almost answer enough to Ron, but he said anyway, "I'm just curious, that's all."
Hermione chewed on her lower lip, thinking. She looked at her hands in her lap. "I can't really answer that, Ron. I'm sorry. Just let me say...you have nothing to worry about...if you are worried, that is..."
"I just don't want you to be hurt, that's all," Ron said somewhat defensively.
She looked up at him and smiled. "Oh, don't worry. If he could, he would never let anything hurt me..."
~~~~~~~~~
"Which is exactly what I had told her after that clock attacked her. I told her I would never let anything hurt her if I could help it."
"And you still didn't get it. And I thought Crabbe and Goyle were thick...", Harry laughed and Ron joined him.
"I'll tell you the rest in a bit--let me go get something to drink, though," Ron said, standing up and stretching. "Be right back..."