SECRETS UNVEILED

by Prototype 2004

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.

02: Thrill Ride of Feelings

Ron opened his eyes wearily. A glimpse at his watch showed that it was noon. Heaving a great sigh, he pushed his blanket off and stood up, stretching out his long arms. Then the cold air took an effect on him, and he hopped around the room, trying to find the protection of his warm, wooly maroon socks. Finishing his morning duties, the lanky boy ran his hand through his crimson hair, attempting once again to straighten out the oddly-positioned locks. A voice rang out of the ornate portrait on the cracked wall, remarking, "Quite scruffy now, aren't we boy?" Ron glared at it, irritated. And Harry thinks he's got a hair problem, he though gloomily.

Bad mistake. Ron gulped. Thinking of Harry -- all alone in Privet Drive with those Muggle gits -- caused him to feel an unpleasant churning in his stomach. Guilt. But he did want to tell him what had been happening lately. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't allowed to. And how much did he know, anyway? Brushing the distressing thoughts out of his mind, he headed for the door.

As soon as the door edged open, he collided unexpectedly with a smaller body marked by a bunch of very wild chocolate-colored hair. The impact sent him sprawling backwards and -- whack! His head smashed against the door, and he knew no more. The last thing he heard was someone shrieking his name frantically.

*

After what seemed like hours, Ron awakened yet again, a painful throb scattering throughout his head. At first, his azure eyes could see nothing but blurred visions. He sat up, looking around him curiously, trying to figure out where he was. The drawing room, apparently. Just as he remembered the event that had taken place before, a short and quite chubby red-haired woman stormed into the room, brightening up as she saw Ron's conscious form.

"Finally, awake, Ron dear? Well, I'm glad -- the poor girl's been sitting here by your side, worrying her head off -- she's miserable, you know. I told her you were going to be all right --"

Ron immediately perked up and glanced around to see who his mother was talking about. Previously unnoticed, she stood on a tattered chair close to the sofa he had been rested upon, her head held down and fast asleep. It was Hermione; no doubt, her puffy brown hair was instantly recognizable.

"Oh, so she was the one I bumped into," he remarked, realization dawning upon his face. "But, wait... when did she get here, Mum?"

"Last night. Her parents insisted on bringing her here in one of those Muggle automobiles, you know. They apparently couldn't find the house, the poor dears," Mrs. Weasley declared from behind the sofa. "I suspect that was why they got here so late. Of course, afterwards I tried explaining to them that this house is only granted access to certain wizards and witches, but I don't think they understood -- oh!" she exclaimed suddenly. "I think there might be something inside of this putrid piece of old furniture. I'm going to go ask Sirius..."

Her footsteps slowly died away through the empty corridors. Ron stepped down from the sofa, walking over to Hermione's sleeping form. Curiously, he noted that she had a wet towel in her hands. Had it been for him? Had she really stood by his side and took care of him? Ron's ears flushed scarlet, for some reason he could not understand. She doesn't hate me then?

Drawn in by a dreamy, mint-like scent, he felt the strange urge to get closer. Closing his eyes, savoring the fragrance...

That was when Hermione stirred, her head coming up so close to Ron's that it looked as if they were about to indulge into a passionate kiss. Her hazel eyes widened in utter surprise. In an awkward whisper, she murmured, "Uh, Ron."

That simple phrase sent Ron whizzing backwards into the opposite wall, his whole face and ears turning an unimaginable dark shade of scarlet.

He started mouthing speechlessly, trying to come up with something to say, but not succeeding at all. Hermione's face had also gotten rather pink -- she did not dare meet his gaze. The situation was well beyond what she could have dealt with. For the first time in her life, Hermione the "Know-It-All" was flustered as well.

The uncomfortable silence, however, was crushed when out of the blue, a pair of flaming-headed twins Apparated in mid-air, plummeting down seconds later with a hearty thud!

"Ouch!" they shouted in unison, picking themselves off the dusty floor and massaging their bruises.

"Well, that was a rather wild ride, wasn't it, Gred?" inquired George.

"Why, yes it was, brother Forge," Fred replied, shuddering in mock awe. "Ah, what've we got here?" he continued, glancing around and noticing Ron and Hermione.

The brunette mumbled something incomprehensible, striding towards the staircase as if a trance. "I was just... going upstairs."

Ron nodded violently in affirmation. After taking a long, deep breath, he followed her uncertainly.

"What's up with them?" Fred questioned, shaking his head at his twin brother. "You know, George, everyone's been too cheerful lately. How 'bout we...break up the fun?"

George grinned mischievously in response.

To Be Continued...