The days at Grimmauld Place were awkward and slow. As Ginny was at the Lovegood's summer home, and Fred and George spent most of the day in Diagon Alley, Hermione was left alone with Ron for hours at a time. At least she had the memory of Tonks, Lupin, and Mad-Eye Moody in her sitting room, and the odd looks her parents exchanged behind their backs, to talk about. Ron said he wished he had been there to witness it.
So far, Hermione's stay had been slightly enjoyable, if not entirely relaxing. There was something about the way the Order members carried on as usual that brought Hermione back two years, to the summer of her fifth year. Harry had been attacked by dementors, nearly been expelled, and was constantly jumping down everyone's throats. Still, she thought sadly, that was nothing compared to last summer. She and Ron had hardly seen Harry aside from mealtimes- he locked himself in Buckbeak's room and refused to speak to anyone. Once they'd gotten outside Grimmauld Place, he was less antisocial, but Harry Potter was certainly not the same person.
Ron, too, had changed over the years, though in a different way than The Boy Who Lived. Hermione guessed it had something to do with the fact that they were entering their seventh and last year at Hogwarts- and Ron was running out of time to confess his feelings for her. Though Hermione had a feeling Ron thought he was being quite inconspicuous indeed, she did put two and two together when Ron had started putting an arm around her, and trying to hold her hand. Lupin had not called her the smartest witch of her age for nothing. Hermione heaved a sigh. She just wished she could think of a way to make Ron stop flirting with her without hurting his feelings.
Hermione blinked. Since when had she decided she didn't want Ron to flirt with her? Oh course, she'd always felt awkward and- honestly- quite uncomfortable, but for several years she'd fancied Ron. It wasn't as if there was anyone else in the picture- and Ron was really nice, he really was. So why, now, could she find nothing left of the schoolgirl crush she'd held on to for six years?
People can always change, she reminded herself.
It was simply a matter of maturity, Hermione decided. Ron could be a bit immature and impractical at times. Still, Hermione thought, frowning, he had always been that way.
"Mione? Are you up here?"
Ron's voice came hesitantly, and the nervousness was evident on his face, even from Hermione's distance.
"I'm right here, Ron," she said, smiling to cover up her irritation.
Hermione nodded to Ron to sit down, wishing she could have at least figured out her feelings before the object of her thoughts came bursting in.
"Where've you been?" Ron asked, oblivious to Hermione's discomfort, "Fred stopped by with some butterbeers to tell everyone- they just won the Something Award for... something about "The Best Vomit-Inducing Candies Ever". Here, I brought one up for you."
At Hermione's raised eyebrows, he added quickly, "A butterbeer, not a vomit- inducing candy..."
"Thank you, Ron, I didn't hear him arrive," Hermione lied.
"Well," Ron said, "Another thing- I just got an owl from Harry."
Hermione choked on a rather large quantity of butterbeer, and managed to spill even more down the front of her robes.
"You what?!"
"Just got an owl-" Ron repeated.
"-from Harry?!"
"Yeah, er... he says- right here," Ron said, shoving a piece of parchment under her nose, "er... he's- alive, at least, isn't he? That's good news."
Hermione read in silence, her head buzzing.
How's your summer? Been having a good time at the Order? I'm sure you have. Don't act like it's such a sacrifice to be there without me. I know what's going on, anyways. Some stuff's happened here, Dudley's friends- the Polkises- got attacked by Death Eaters on their vacation in Majorca- of all places. Seems Voldemort's not so inactive after all. Can't say any more in case this is intercepted. Just that someone's been really happy and really excited here, and it's not me.
Say hello to Ginny, Hermione, and the rest of the Order for me.
Harry
Hermione stared, and reread the letter."The Polkises were attacked?" she mused, "There was nothing in the Daily Prophet about it. And what about this? "Someone's been really happy and really excited here, and it's not me". That can only be Voldemort- oh honestly, Ron- so... whatever could he be excited about?"
Ron said nothing, but looked grim.
"Ron, what are you going to write back to him?"
"Dunno," Ron said slowly, "Seems to have lightened up a bit, though, hasn't he? Reckon he'll speak to us this time?"
"I hope so," Hermione said, looking intently at the floor, "I do wish he'd talk to us like he used to. Honestly, he's got to tell someone what's going on- Harry can't keep it all inside like he's done for the past two years. All that accomplishes is making him frustrated and cross with us for no reason."
"Yeah..." Ron trailed off, taking the parchment from Hermione. His ears reddened around the edges as his hand brushed hers. Hermione stiffened, and stood up suddenly.
"I need to find Crookshanks."
With that hurried, lame excuse, she was out the door and down the hallway before Ron could ask any questions.
Ron only sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door for quite some time after.