Chapter two: Break It to Me Gently
"What?!" yelled Ron, his face turning into a nice plum color.
"Well, it's really quite simple, Ron, once you analyse everything," explained Hermione in a timid voice, tugging at her bushy brown hair.
"Analyse what?" shot back Ron, still not lowering his voice and furrowed brows.
"Honestly, Ron, we're great friends, but, you know, ever since we got together, all we've been doing is bickering-"
"But we've always done that!" cut off Ron, obviously exasperated and baffled by now, for he threw up his arms in the air, waving them wildly around.
Hermione had to suppress a smile at this.
"But Ron," she continued, speaking as she would to a five-year-old, "that's a different case if that's all we do. I mean, really, don't you think that if we were really such a good couple, we would have had more to this relationship than bickering? If we wanted to be bickering partners, we could've done it without actually going out, right?"
"Well, then," said Ron, pleading desperately with his eyes, "we could just, you know, stop bickering."
Hermione let out a huff of breath slowly.
"Ron, it's not that easy, is it, now? Besides, we were never exactly two for chemistry, were we?"
By now, Ron's brows were furrowed in concentration. He scratched his head as understanding slowly crept into the corners of his narrow mind.
"I suppose you could be right. Not that I agree with everything you said, you know, I think you should think about this a little more, though…"
"Ron, I've been thinking about this for quite some time now. Did you think I'd bring it up if I weren't positive about this? You should know by now, Ronald Weasley, how my mind works," said Hermione, one brow raised, arms folded across her chest.
"Oh, well, if you're absolutely sure-"
"I'm sure, Ron," Hermione interjected quickly.
Ron just heaved a sigh, "Well, since you're sure, I mean, you're probably right, you almost always are."
Hermione couldn't help but release the breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding all along, as relief coursed through her.
"Oh, Ron! You and Harry really ARE my best friends, and I love you both so much, you know, I just can never be in-love with either one of you. I hope you understand," she said as she engulfed Ron in a big hug.
"Er, Hermione?" Ron added uneasily. "This isn't about Krum, is it?"
"Hmm? Oh, Ron, you honestly think I'm that kind of person?" Hermione asked, frowning a little.
"You could let go now…" he replied rather stiffly.
"Oh," was all that Hermione could mutter, flushing slightly as she stepped back. You just had to make this harder, damn you, she thought. Men and their pride.
Just then, Mrs. Weasley's voice boomed through The Burrow's rickety walls and halls.
"FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY!!!! Don't bother hiding your arses; I know you're behind this!!!"
Curious, Ron and Hermione crept silently to the kitchen.
Eyes growing wide, they had to clamp their hands over their mouths to stop from snickering out loud. On the kitchen counter top, Ginny (at least that's who Hermione thought it was) was sitting with a third of her hair shaven, what little bristles left on it dyed electric pink. The middle section was in a Mohawk, its tips electric blue and neon green. The last third however, retained Ginny's shoulder blade-length, only, it was now in thousands of tiny braids ranging from her original vivid red to purple to lemon yellow to orange to silver and a spectrum of colors more.
They watched unnoticed as with a soft *pop* behind them, Fred and George sauntered into the kitchen, their lips twitching.
"What did you do to her?!" screeched Mrs. Weasley, whose normally plump and kind face was now purple with vexation and barely suppressed anger.
"Oh, it's brilliant, really," said George with the air of someone explaining the theory of relativity, "Fred and I have been developing this one for quite some time now. We call it Smashing Pumpkins-"
"-because it's pumpkin juice that turns your hair aaabbsssolutellly SMASHING!" continued Fred with a flourish, chest puffing out with pride.
At this, Ron let out a snicker, and Fred and George turned around to grin and wink at him and Hermione.
Ron gave them a (what he hoped was) discreet thumbs up, making sure that Molly Weasley didn't see him. No such luck.
"RONALD WEASLEY! I saw that! What your brothers did is nothing short of childish, immature, insensitive, oh, Hermione, dear, do come in. Have a spot of breakfast?" Mrs. Weasley said all this almost in one breath, her tone and facial expression changing swiftly from indignant and vexed to warm and welcoming. It was quite comical, really, but luckily, Fred and George knew better than to laugh at a time like this, lest they wanted to be shipped off to work with their older and more responsible brother, Percy, in the Ministry.
"And you," she turned to face Fred and George who hastily put on innocent expressions that could fool no one (no one who knew them, at least), "You fix your sister up right now," she finished quietly, which meant that they better do as she says or else.
Fred glanced quickly at George. "Um, well, mum, that's gonna be a bit of a problem-"
"-you see," continued George, "we're still in the process of finding a de-smashing pumpkin…"
"WHAT?!" bellowed Mrs. Weasley.
Ginny, who up to now had been silent, spoke up.
"Um, Mum, I don't mind, really. I think I'm rather fond of this 'do, if you ask me," she said in a timid voice, hoping her mum wouldn't chew out Fred and George too much.
Mrs. Weasley looked at her only daughter quizzically. Finally, she expelled a long breath.
"Well. I suppose if it's all right with you, dear," she said, too tired of shouting anyway, to think of suitable punishment for Fred and George.
Honestly, who would think that these bulks of identical mass with vivid red hair and freckles all over (a Weasley family trait), who dropped out of school in their last year, would've grown into pleasant-looking young men? With their boyish looks and innocent smiles, no one would guess that the biscotti they were handed would turn them into Snape dressed up as Cher. Well, no one who didn't actually know them, that is.
Professor Severus Snape was Hogwarts' Potions Master. The head of Slytherin House, sallow-skinned, hook-nosed, and greasy-haired, he tended to favor students from his own House, and take points away from its rival House: Gryffindor. To see him in anything other than his usual black robes was amazing, to see him as Cher, moreover, was just too much too handle.
Just as Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George were seating themselves at the Weasleys' dining table, a soft *whoosh* and some coughing was heard from the fireplace.
"Harry!" squealed Hermione, running to Harry and almost knocking him over as she hugged him.
"Uh, Hermione, gerroff!" grunted Harry, "I can't breathe."
"Sorry," muttered Hermione, " I told Ron, he seems okay now, though," she whispered before letting go and stepping back from Harry.
"Oy, Harry, mate! How'd you get here by floo?" said Ron, clapping Harry on the shoulder.
Harry finished brushing off the soot from his shoulders before answering.
"Well, you see, Percy owled me this morning, gave me some floo powder, and said that he had the Dursleys' fireplace connected to the Floo Network for an hour so I could stay here for the rest of the summer," explained Harry.
"Hold on, Harry, I think mum's yelling caused quite some damage on my ears, as I heard you say Percy connected the Dursleys' fireplace to the Floo Network," said Fred, sticking his middle finger into his ear and rotating it.
Harry chuckled at this.
"Well, while I could sympathize with the damage to your ears, I reckon it's still not enough to render your hearing faulty. Yes, Percy connected the Dursleys' fireplace to the Floo Network so I could stay here."
"Right," said George, still with a disbelieving look on his face.
"Looks like our uptight older brother is learning how not to be a git," remarked Fred snidely.
In their fifth year, Percy walked out and all but disowned his family to side with then Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. In their sixth year, however, Percy ate his words and came crawling back home, sobbing his apologies to the family.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," said Percy from the doorway, as he appeared out of thin air.
"Percy!" cried Ginny, rushing over to hug the third Weasley brother who, though older than the twins, was shorter by a bit.
"Ginny?" cried Percy, taking in her new hair-do.
It was only then that Harry noticed her, too, and he stood gaping at her.
Ron noticed Harry staring at his younger sister and chuckled to himself before reaching out to close Harry's mouth for him.
Snapping out of it, Harry turned to Ron and muttered, "Thanks."
"Oy, Hogwarts letters," said Fred, tossing out envelopes to them.
Many pancakes, waffles and sausages, (and bran flakes for Percy), they all prepared to set out for Diagon Alley.
***************
Stepping out into the bright sunshine, and into Diagon Alley, Harry, Ron and Hermione broke away from the group to do some shopping of their own.
About half an hour later, their money bags considerably lighter, the three of them sat down at one of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor's tables outside. Harry disappeared inside for a few minutes, and returned with three large bowls of triple-peanut-butter-and-chocolate-chip-mint ice cream with sliced bananas on the side.
Ron and Hermione started to bring out their money bags.
"How much, 20 sickles?" asked Ron.
Harry pushed back Ron's money bag.
"My treat," he said.
"Wow, thanks, Harry!" exclaimed Ron and Hermione in unison.
As they sat down, happily devouring their sticky afternoon treat, a shadow loomed on them from behind. They didn't have to turn around to find out who it was that drawled lazily at them.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Potty, Weasel, and Mudblood,"
All three heads swiveled round to face their arch nemesis, Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy was tall, almost giving Ron's six feet three inches a run for its money, and his popularity in Hogwarts, and not to mention money, rivaled that of the famous Harry Potter.
Unlike Harry's unruly jet-black hair and vivid green eyes hidden behind black round-framed glasses, Draco had slicked back silvery-blond hair that reached his collar, piercing grey eyes and a flawless smooth, pale complexion. Right now, he exuded money, power and authority, standing in his impeccable black robes over an equally impeccably crisp white shirt and black slacks.
Following Harry's help in getting Lucius Malfoy into Azkaban, Draco simply got nastier, if that were possible.
At Malfoy's last word, Ron stood up, stretching his full frame and towering over Malfoy a good five inches.
"You take that back, Malfoy," he said, clutching his wand, his voice seething.
"Why? Maybe you were brought up to lie, Weasley, but I was brought up to tell the truth," answered Draco coolly, almost sounding bored.
By now, Hermione was full of it. As if some inexplicable vengeful force drove her, she stood up and strode to Draco, grabbing the front of his robes and some of his shirt in the process.
Draco was too shocked to react.
"Listen here, you pathetic little brat," she spat out the last word with disgust, "you are nothing but a sorry, Nancy-boy who likes bullying people he thinks are smaller than him, but likes to hide under his mummy's skirt otherwise, so if you mind, we were having a perfectly good time until you showed up and ruined it, as you always do. Now, leave before I do something we'd both regret."
"Oohh," drawled Draco, shivering, "Potty and Weasel aren't man enough, and that's with them combined! So, tired of being the Gryffindor mudblood whore? What, purebloods aren't good enough for a muggle anymore? Or is it a Gryffindor issue? I didn't think that Gryffindors were so sexually deprived that you'd come running and grabbing me, hoping to "punish" me," he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, stressing the word punish in a way that left Hermione with a clear idea on what he really was saying.
"Ugh," Hermione grunted as she shoved Malfoy away from her, revolted, "First off, I am a witch. Second, you are an insufferable git, Malfoy! I actually pity the Slytherins for having to bear with your presence every damn day."
"Actually," smirked Malfoy while straightening his robes, "the girls find my presence actually pleasurable."
Mouths already open with disbelief at this git's pompousness; their jaws dropped lower with horror as Malfoy removed his robes and took off his shirt, revealing a well-toned, firm chest and stomach.
"Here," he said, tossing the shirt to Hermione and pulling on his robes over his naked upper body, "something for you to fantasize about, I can't wear it now, really. It's white; your mudblood dirt would show."
Hermione was too busy staring and glaring at Malfoy that she failed to notice the thin white scars on his torso.
***************
A week after the Malfoy incident, Hermione sat in her and Ginny's room, doing some last minute packing.
Humming to herself as she folded and packed her clothes, she stopped abruptly when she came across Malfoy's shirt.
Out of curiosity, she brought it up to her nose and nuzzled her face in its softness, inhaling Malfoy's peppermint and aftershave scent.
Realizing what she was doing, Hermione jerked her head back and hastily tucked Malfoy's shirt into a far corner of her trunk. Just in case, she thought. In case of what, though, she didn't know.
