Previously:
Once outside, she did not stop running until she came into the warm yellow glow of the Three Broomsticks. She looked inside but didn't recognize anyone, so she decided to Apparate to Ron's house. She disappeared with a faint pop and reappeared outside a tall, poorly built house. Smoke rose in lazy grey clouds from the brick chimney. She knocked on the door. It opened, and she fell inside.
Once outside, she did not stop running until she came into the warm yellow glow of the Three Broomsticks. She looked inside frantically but after peering into countless strangers' faces she realized that she didn't recognize anyone, so she decided to Apparate to Ron's house. The Burrow had been briefly mentioned that morning, and her mind immediately clicked on it. She disappeared with a faint pop and reappeared outside a tall, poorly built house. Smoke rose in lazy grey clouds from the crooked brick chimney. She knocked on the door. It opened, and she fell inside.Once outside, she did not stop running until she came into the warm yellow glow of the Three Broomsticks. She looked inside frantically but after peering into countless strangers' faces she realized that she didn't recognize anyone, so she decided to Apparate to Ron's house. The Burrow had been briefly mentioned that morning, and her mind immediately clicked on it. She disappeared with a faint and reappeared outside a tall, poorly built house. Smoke rose in lazy grey clouds from the crooked brick chimney. She knocked on the door. It opened, and she fell inside.
"Hermione!" Harry said. "What's wrong? Why are you here?"
"The house! They damaged my house! They came—everything messed up—I opened the door—all quiet—SOMEONE IN MY HOUSE." Harry gasped.
"What?" Ron said incredulously. Harry set her on the worn couch. She drew a deep shuddering breath before telling them the whole story, from leaving the Three Broomsticks to Disapparating from it. Ginny appeared over Ron's shoulder part way through her retelling, and soon Hermione had almost the whole Weasley family looking at her curiously.
"Never mind; I-I'll just go home. I'm just overreacting, I guess. Sorry to have disturbed you—"
"No, Hermione, you stay here." Harry told her forcefully, sitting on the couch.
"Are you sure? I mean, maybe it wasn't an intruder, or maybe…" Harry put his finger over her lips and laughed.
"Just listen to you, Hermione! You're the cleverest witch I know! How can you even think of going back to that house by yourself?"
"Right," Ron chimed in. "You should stay here and let someone who is qualified go to your house." Hermione snorted. Ron had been using words "qualified" and "witch" (often within a word or two of one another) ever since his youngest sibling, Ginny, had been qualified as a HitWizard. He was very proud of his sister, Hermione could tell, but sometimes he overdid it.
"No, Ginny is not going into that house!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley. "I am not losing another—" She suddenly drew a deep shuddering breath and stiffly fast-walked out of the room. They could hear her sobbing in the kitchen.
"She's been like this ever since—you know," Ron said in an undertone. All those present—Fred, George, Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione—knew that he was referring to the day they had seen Harry last before he had come back. It was also the day they last saw Percy and Mr. Weasley. According to the witnesses, they had fought side by side until the end: Voldemort, the evilest, most powerful wizard in a century, had murdered them in an attempt to kill Harry as well in the final battle. This was always a touchy subject with Molly, who never quite got over the fact that it had been the first time since Percy's split from the family that he and his father had been together, physically and emotionally.
"I'll go talk to her," Ginny said with a sigh. She stood up and left the room.
"Well, it's nice to see you, mate, but we really have to be going. We're trying to invent a new thing for the shop; business is slowing down." Fred said. George nodded, and as one the twins left the room as well.
"Hey!" Ron said suddenly. "Guess what!"
"What?" Harry asked.
"Our first game is this weekend! Want to come?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Harry said. He really missed Quidditch, and couldn't wait to see Ron play professionally.
"As long as there's no singing," Hermione said. "I think I've had enough of 'Weasley is Our King' for two people's lifetimes." Harry laughed and Ron blushed.
"It's a deal," Ron said and he left the room to go get his broomstick. So he could show off, Hermione presumed.
Silence. For ten minutes. Ten long, excruciating minutes. Why couldn't she think of something to say to her best friend?
"So," Hermione said to break the silence. "How long has it been since you've played Quidditch?"
"Erm—a couple years, I guess. Maybe I should practice with Ron…?" He suggested. Hermione smiled as she recalled the two of them on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. "Knut for your thoughts?" he asked at her distant expression.
"Oh, just thinking."
"About what? About me? About how gorgeous and awesome I am?"
"Yes," Hermione said laughing, "about how modest you are, and your wonderful personality, and how I can't imagine how girls can keep themselves away from your god-like body." Harry laughed. "No, I was thinking about when you and Ron last played on the same field. It was so long ago, but I remember the Weasley is Our King badges, and how we had to keep Ron from seeing them or else he would have done something drastic, and the match—you played really well! But then you got a ban, and…" her voice drifted off as she saw Harry's face in his hands and sensed, rather than saw, a glimmer of a tear behind his hands. "I'm sorry," she said, "I guess I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry to remind you…"
"No," came the Voice Behind the Hands, "I'm sorry. I'm fine. I mean, it happened a long time ago, and the ban was lifted…" Hermione put her arm around his waist.
"Well," she whispered in his ear, "at least you don't come home to find your house has been ransacked and you have to go crying to your friend's house, or get fired from your job after you quit your first one, and you're extremely gorgeous and awesome. How lucky do you get?" Harry chuckled and put his arm around her.
"Thanks, Mione," he murmured, "You've always been good at that kind of thing, I guess. But you know what would make me feel even better?"
"Mmm?"
"Let's go to a club."
"Erm, Harry? All my stuff's at home."
"Well, Ginny should have something to fit you."
"Yeah, I guess so…" she said, not masking her reluctance well enough for Harry.
"What, do you not want to go? Do you like seeing me miserable? Is that it?" Harry said accusingly. Hermione could not help laughing.
"Fine; I give in. Let's go. Should we invite Ron?"
"Sure, and Nanette and Giselle can come too. We have to find you a date, though. That's our mission for tonight—get Hermione a date."
"Sounds good to me," said Ron from the doorway. "Let's go."
"Excuse me?" Ginny shouted from the kitchen. "What about Hermione's house?"
"Can you sort it out? Please, Gin?" Ron pleaded.
"Fine!" Ginny shouted grumpily, obviously huffy about having to work instead of play.
"Yes!" Ron pumped his fist in the air, either ignoring or not realizing his sister's annoyance, and Disapparated.
"Where's he going?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "We don't even know where we're going!"
"Sure we do! We're going to the best one in London: Wand's Crossing!" said Harry. "Here—I'll hold your hand so you won't have to concentrate on how to get there as much," he suggested, wrapping her small hand in his larger one.
"Thanks," Hermione said, pleasantly surprised. Since when has Harry been so courteous? She wondered. However, she hardly had time to think as they disappeared from the Weasleys' living room and instantly appeared outside a cheaply lit McDonald's restaurant. "Harry? This isn't a club," she said uncertainly.
"I know, Wand's Crossing is this way," he replied, pulling her off around the side to the drive-in window. "A Big Mac, hold the Floo please," he ordered politely to the Muggle in the window. Hermione wondered if he had lost his marbles. Hold the Floo? Floo powder was a method of transportation via fireplaces, not a condiment on a burger. The Muggle nodded and pressed a button on his headphones. Just then, a fireplace appeared on the side of the fast-food building. Harry wordlessly pulled her through it. The flames, rather than burning, felt like slipping back into her old four-poster bed at Hogwarts when the house-elves had put warming pans in it for her. She only felt this for a second before entering a big, open—and crowded—club. She had never been to one of these before. Somehow, despite seven years of living the Gryffindor bravery, she found herself staring at the floor.
Yay! An update within a reasonable amout of time! XD
Anyway, there's part 6. 7 should come soon.
As always, thanks for reading!
insanehpluver
