Je l'adore Chapter 2
George lay sweating and out of breath on the lawn. How could he be so stupid? What kind of idiot sends a letter as someone else without considering that it might be replied to? George wasn't quite sure what to do next, but he'd definitely found some entertainment, how ever negative...at least he wasn't bored now, right?
Why was it so hard to think of a nice way to word 'What the fuck are you on?' Ron didn't know the answer to that, so he paced the room several more times, trying to think of what to say to Hermione which would politely convey the right message. After around an hour of careful consideration he settled on the following message. "Urm hey Herm. I don't seem to remember writing to you...maybe I had my memory modified. Hah. Anyway, I'm not that bored really. Harry arrived last week, and we've been playing a lot of quidditch...well I have...he's been playing some and snogging Ginny for the rest of the time. Well I dunno if they've been snogging, but they've sure spent a lot of time together. That's beyond the point, sorry... So yeah, I'll ask Dad if we can bring you here, but I dunno how it will work...anyway I'll write soon 'Mione...see ya."
It wasn't the most eloquent of letters, and Ron hoped it didn't come across as mean or anything like that, but it did the trick. Hermione was obviously going crazy in her boredom, although how she got hold of Pigwidgeon he'd never know.
Hermione had gone back to her gentle pacing of the hallway in her parents' neatly decorated house. It's funny how a little excitement makes you more bored once it's removed. Sighing loudly Hermione flopped down onto the floor in a dramatic faux faint. It had been approximately 27 hours 53 minutes and 45 seconds since she'd sent her reply to Ron, not that she was counting or anything. Almost 28 hours of boredom had passed. It seemed like months to Hermione. The sight of Pigwidgeon was nothing but a distant memory... Ok so maybe that's a little over the top, but the point it she was bored! Nothing around this little muggle house would satisfy her thirst for entertainment. Television programmes were just not realistic. She'd never been one for technology, so the computer seemed pointless. And if she went anywhere near the kitchen, where her mother spent many out of work hours, she'd be in danger of cooking lessons, the most patronising of things, especially with a dentist as a mother, It was always 'watch the sugar there honey' and 'That's very acidic, not good for your teeth you know...'
She thought she'd actually cracked and was hearing things when the gentle but persistent tapping began at her livingroom window. Looking up Hermione gasped and let out a shriek of excitement.
There, standing on the dry lawn of her front garden was none other than George Weasley! Running to the front door it didn't occur to Hermione to wonder why he was there and Ron was not. Or how he knew that she was bored. Or any of those things. She was just so happy to see a friendly face from the wizarding world.
"George!! It's so amazing to see you! I was going out of my mind!" She squealed.
"Hermione! Calm down love, you might burst something..." George was so alarmed by the shrieking ball of energy that greeted him, that he didn't have much chance to look at her properly. He wanted nothing more than for her to just stop so that he could look at her, admire her. She was so beautiful, so intelligent. He wondered how nobody else noticed how amazing she was.
"Hellooooo?!" Hermione waved a perfectly manicured hand in front of the freckled face before her. George promptly snapped out of his trance as a pale blush crept up his cheeks.
"Sorry, forgot what was happening then." He didn't want her to know what he'd been thinking, and hoped beyond hope that she wouldn't guess.
George lay sweating and out of breath on the lawn. How could he be so stupid? What kind of idiot sends a letter as someone else without considering that it might be replied to? George wasn't quite sure what to do next, but he'd definitely found some entertainment, how ever negative...at least he wasn't bored now, right?
Why was it so hard to think of a nice way to word 'What the fuck are you on?' Ron didn't know the answer to that, so he paced the room several more times, trying to think of what to say to Hermione which would politely convey the right message. After around an hour of careful consideration he settled on the following message. "Urm hey Herm. I don't seem to remember writing to you...maybe I had my memory modified. Hah. Anyway, I'm not that bored really. Harry arrived last week, and we've been playing a lot of quidditch...well I have...he's been playing some and snogging Ginny for the rest of the time. Well I dunno if they've been snogging, but they've sure spent a lot of time together. That's beyond the point, sorry... So yeah, I'll ask Dad if we can bring you here, but I dunno how it will work...anyway I'll write soon 'Mione...see ya."
It wasn't the most eloquent of letters, and Ron hoped it didn't come across as mean or anything like that, but it did the trick. Hermione was obviously going crazy in her boredom, although how she got hold of Pigwidgeon he'd never know.
Hermione had gone back to her gentle pacing of the hallway in her parents' neatly decorated house. It's funny how a little excitement makes you more bored once it's removed. Sighing loudly Hermione flopped down onto the floor in a dramatic faux faint. It had been approximately 27 hours 53 minutes and 45 seconds since she'd sent her reply to Ron, not that she was counting or anything. Almost 28 hours of boredom had passed. It seemed like months to Hermione. The sight of Pigwidgeon was nothing but a distant memory... Ok so maybe that's a little over the top, but the point it she was bored! Nothing around this little muggle house would satisfy her thirst for entertainment. Television programmes were just not realistic. She'd never been one for technology, so the computer seemed pointless. And if she went anywhere near the kitchen, where her mother spent many out of work hours, she'd be in danger of cooking lessons, the most patronising of things, especially with a dentist as a mother, It was always 'watch the sugar there honey' and 'That's very acidic, not good for your teeth you know...'
She thought she'd actually cracked and was hearing things when the gentle but persistent tapping began at her livingroom window. Looking up Hermione gasped and let out a shriek of excitement.
There, standing on the dry lawn of her front garden was none other than George Weasley! Running to the front door it didn't occur to Hermione to wonder why he was there and Ron was not. Or how he knew that she was bored. Or any of those things. She was just so happy to see a friendly face from the wizarding world.
"George!! It's so amazing to see you! I was going out of my mind!" She squealed.
"Hermione! Calm down love, you might burst something..." George was so alarmed by the shrieking ball of energy that greeted him, that he didn't have much chance to look at her properly. He wanted nothing more than for her to just stop so that he could look at her, admire her. She was so beautiful, so intelligent. He wondered how nobody else noticed how amazing she was.
"Hellooooo?!" Hermione waved a perfectly manicured hand in front of the freckled face before her. George promptly snapped out of his trance as a pale blush crept up his cheeks.
"Sorry, forgot what was happening then." He didn't want her to know what he'd been thinking, and hoped beyond hope that she wouldn't guess.