The True Confessions of Hermione Granger
by Mio Granger
July 3rd
Oh, I'm so excited! We're leaving this dreadful place tomorrow and going to the Burrow! It seems that the adults have been working on the wards for a long time now, and all they needed was last full moon and then a little help from Remus, and it's all set to go, snug and safe, as far as the village. They just told us today as a surprise, and it's made us all ever so happy. I feel like I could float, and Ginny's gone around with an extra bounce in her step that makes her hair fly everywhere, and Harry and Ron grin madly at each other in five minute intervals.
This past week has been just as lackluster as ever. I'm officially done with every piece of homework I could do, and Tonks has been out on an assignment and Fred and George are utterly embroiled in their entrepreneur, and seeing the same people over and over again at Grimmaud Place does not have the same sort of effect as seeing them over and over again at Hogwarts. I was growing heartily sick of flaming Weasley red hair and piercing green eyes until we got the news. Now I'd be willing to dye my own hair red.
Not really though. I don't have much….well, it's not as strong as respect, but I kind of think that people who dye their hair are a bit pathetic. Unless it's purple or something, and then you're just silly. To each her own, I suppose.
Snape has been sweeping through the house like a madman. He's at the crucial bit of an important mission, but all he can do is hope other people take the right cues and pray. Not that he's been doing a lot of that. He doesn't strike me as particularly religious, especially since he's swearing, really obscene stuff too, under his breath whenever he thinks no one can hear him. An odd form of venting his feelings, but if it works…. I just wish he wouldn't keep throwing us vile glares every time he came into the kitchen. Ginny and Ron are trying to bake a cake for Mrs. Weasley and Harry and I are sitting at the table respectively reading and writing. He actually had the cheek to ask us if we were all packed the second time he stormed through! I think he just wants us to leave so he can get himself a whiskey from the fridge. If I was a bit bolder, I'd get one out and hand it to him. Could you just imagine his face!
.
July 5th
Burrow sweet Burrow! I realized, of course, what a dismal feeling hung in the air at Grimmaud Place, but the contrast is stunning. Everyone is so much more carefree. The boys are out flying almost all day, and Ginny's enchanted a CD player so she could make me listen to this country song that her friend Victoria Hanley brought back from America last summer. Her favorite song is called "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy," which I didn't get at first, but she told me to think in the most suggestive way possible. It's a good song, actually, but God forbid Harry or Ron hear us listening to it. Or worse, someone like Remus!
Who is also staying at the Burrow. He's translating some ancient text for Dumbledore, I think, so he needs the protections, plus he's a good confidante for Harry. It's my turn to help Mrs. Weasley get dinner started, though, so I've got to go do that.
July 6th
Oh, I feel the right fool! My face is still burning from it. All I can say is, once I've gotten over the initial embarrassment, I can't let this ruin our friendship. To think—Ron's fancied me for ages and everyone but me knew about it. Gah! I think I shall go drown myself.
Later
Failed dismally at that too. Ginny caught me halfway through and made me get out of the bathtub. That girl is driving me insane. It's too bad we're on her home turf and I daren't do anything. First she goes and dumps it on me that her brother practically idolizes me, then she says that she won't tell a soul that I am now aware of what everyone else within five miles already knew and don't feel the same way, unless I do, and then she'll go and wave banners in Ron's face about it.
Me! Fancy Ron? I mean, not that he's unfanciable or anything, I'm sure that if girls could get past his utterly male apathy and interest in nothing but himself, they'd be crawling all over him—I mean, I'm not friends with him solely because he and Harry are a package deal. And red hair is rather attractive, and Ron's quite tall. But. But when you start a friendship with nothing but friendship on your mind, and you continue that way for five years, it's a little hard to start working romance into the equation. At times I feel simply like a Weasley sans red hair. The same goes for Harry. Well, I didn't get into a friendship with him solely for friendship, you must remember I was a quixotic little eleven year old, but we've been just friends for nearly all the time we've been friends that it would be near impossible to love him. That way. Because I do love Harry and Ron with all of my heart, like brothers, or more than brothers, but it's strictly platonic. Plato knew what he was talking about. I am quite proud of myself to be able to hold a platonic relationship with not only one boy, but two. Platonic is such a tricky thing to do, so few people ever have genuinely platonic relationships. Now I am just blathering, in hopes that I distract myself from the matter at hand.
Argh. I've Ginny at my elbow asking me if I want to talk every three seconds. I'll go shake her off by finding Harry.
Even Later
This is what I'm reduced to. Hiding under scraggly bushes outside the living room window. I feel like a bandit with a diary.
I went to find Harry. Oh, yes, I searched the Burrow high and low, cleverly avoiding Ron, and then I took myself outside and searched there too. What did I find? Harry and Remus, half-sloshed, cozied up in the Weasley's broom shed, sharing old school gossip over bottle of Firewhiskey! As I came upon the shed, I could hear Remus' voice, slurring a little.
"Now Narcissa Black, there wah an enigma. She was alwaysh—hic—pardon moi—the little social butterfly, surrounded by a carefully neutral group of friends. Never outright nasty the 'Mudbloods' of the school, but never too close. Nope. The shurprising thing about her engagement to Malfoy was that they'd never been seen together. Probably orchestrated by the parents."
Then came Harry, sounding more far-gone than Remus by a half.
"She ignore Shiriush like the resht—hic—of that no-good family of—hic—shcoundrels?"
"As far as I could tell, they weren't close, but closer than the rest of the family. Sirius was the main source of enter-a-tat-tainment at Hogwarts, and it was good for her popularity to be on shpeaking terms with him. He was so guarded when it came to anything to do with family, for all I know they wash having duels every other night!"
Then I descended, using the time for good practice of unconventional French. I was yelling every swear word I could remember from my holiday in between admonitions to Remus for letting Harry drink Firewhiskey, Harry for going along with the obviously irresponsible Remus, and a little of everything else. They gaped at me for a minute, then each grinned for different reasons. It only made me more furious.
"Geesh, Mio, hic, you need to lighten—hic—up a little," Harry slurred up at me. "We wash only—hic—having a bit of fun, drowning our shorrows, ya know?"
"A bit of fun? Harry, you're completely drunk! That's not a bit of fun, that's—"
"You remind me of Lily, Hermione," Remus interrupted pleasantly, attempting to sound sober. If I'm not mistaken, he shot a sly glance at Harry. Why is everyone trying to set me up with my best friends? "So pretty, and sho concerned with propriety and the rules—until, of course, it suits you not to."
"Well, really!" I huffed, and stormed off. Behind me, I could hear Harry tell Remus in what he thought was a quiet voice, "Eggshellent job at getting rid of her, we could ushe—hic—you when exshams come 'round."
So it was no use talking to Harry about my impending future, or lack thereof, with Ron, and I'm completely doomed. Doomed girl sitting under a badly-pruned rosebush. All I can think of is that Remus Lupin is utter cad, even if he was more than a little inebriated, and for some reason my mind keeps going back to that pressed flower in the attic. Gack! Gack and good riddance!
Three Minutes After That
Remus just walked past this bush and mutter out of the corner of his mouth, "Astonishing grasp of the language of romance, regardless." I think I may go drown myself in Ginny's bathtub again, and remember to lock the door this time.