Chapter 3- Facing The Facts

Hermione tapped on the door before opening it slowly. Ron squinted at her from his position, half-hidden underneath the duvet, before groaning and rolling over.

"Rise and shine, lazybones!" she yelled in a far too loud of a voice, before ripping open the curtains. Sunlight flooded the room, blinding Ron, who gave another, louder groan and pulled the duvet further over his head. What time'd she call this?

"Come on," Hermione urged, bustling around the room. "We've got things to do! It's already half past seven!"

"Wha?" Ron mumbled, still half asleep. "It's only seven thirty... gobacktosleep..."

"Get UP, Ronald," Hermione said firmly, yanking the duvet out of his grasp. "We've got places to go! People to see!"

"Okay, okay, I'm up!" Ron moaned, sitting upright and glancing around the room for his slippers. "What do we have to do, anyway?"

"We're meeting the girls in the park at ten, and then at one we're meeting some guys to go and see a film. Before that we've got to have breakfast, get ready and post a package for my mum. Oh, and I have to vacuum the living room..."

Vacuum? Film? What? Ron thought, as he located his slippers and pulled them on. And more friends to meet? He wasn't going to get a moment alone with her, was he?

Ron went to bed that night in a very bad mood. The day hadn't gone well. It had started off on the right foot- he had helped Hermione to vacuum the living room, and he now knew how to work a Hoover. They had also had a most enjoyable trip to the post office, and he had brought some stamps for his father, as a souvenir. There had been a minor incident at the park, when he had revealed his ignorance about Muggle sports (he knew he should have listened to Dean's lectures on football), but it wasn't until they met up with the boys that things went really downhill. He had been monumentally unimpressed with the film- its depictions of werewolves were laughable, and it all looked so fake- but the Muggles had lapped it up, squealing in horror the whole way through. They had gone out for something to eat afterwards, and Chastity, the blonde one, had introduced him to "the guys". They hadn't been overly impressed with him, and he had to say the feeling was mutual. There was one in particular, Jake, who irritated Ron the most- he was constantly chatting up Hermione, and he kept calling Ron "mate". He wouldn't have been mates with that smug idiot if they had paid him...

He had been forced to spend almost two hours watching that wanker flirt with his Hermione, and she didn't even try to stop him! That guy wasn't good enough for her, he thought with a scowl. He was impolite, loud and he talked to her like she was an idiot. And they called her "Mi". Mi! If he called her that, he'd be lucky to get away with both legs intact, but when lover-boy did it she didn't say a word!

It was just his luck. He finally reached the point where he almost believed that there was a possibility- slim, but still there- that Hermione might like him as well, and some idiot with designer jeans and a stupid haircut swept her out from under him! This was worryingly similar to the whole Vicky debacle. But at least there he could almost see the attraction. Yes, he was a grumpy, glowering, bad tempered foreign wanker, but he was also an international superstar. Jake- pure wanker. It just wasn't fair.

The next few days passed without much incidence. Sometimes they met up with Hermione's friends for trips to various points of interest. Chastity, who had taken up the position as official Ron entertainer had spent an entire afternoon trying to explain football, whilst Ron spent it making up elaborate excuses as to why he had never heard of it before. On other days he and Hermione simply hung out, chatting, messing around and occasionally having bizarre moments of frission, which were invariably broken by some distraction before Ron could make a move. Hermione spent a great deal of her time moaning about her "friends," their irritating shallowness and how she wished they'd stop trying to engage her in social activity. Ron listened sympathetically from the sidelines. He had to admit that he'd found it hard to swallow at first. It didn't fit in his mind that Hermione could possibly have ever considered these girls as actual friends, let alone her closest friends. She just didn't fit in their world of giggling and make up and self-obsession. She was too complex, too deep. She had too much intelligence to sit around and obsess over boys like Jake.

He had attempted to broach the subject of Jake with Hermione at one point, but she had been frustratingly oblique and vague, simply muttering something about how he was a nice enough guy. Ron noticed that she avoided his eye whilst saying this, a sure sign that she was too embarrassed to tell him how much she really liked Jake. This angered him immensely, for reasons that he obviously couldn't express to Hermione. He had at last given up all pretence that his feelings were just a phase, and had committed himself to the unfortunate truth- he was hopelessly in love with his best friend and there was nothing that he or anyone else could do to stop it.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" Fliss squealed down the phone. Hermione sighed.

"Hi, Fliss. What's up?"

"You are never going to guess what has happened!"

"What?"

"Guess."

"You've got a new pair of shoes?" Hermione said.

"No. Well, yes, but that's not what I'm talking about. Guess again!"

"Fliss, is there any chance that I'm ever going to guess this?" Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. There was a loud clunk in the background at Felicity's end. Hermione could tell exactly where Fliss was- on the third step of the stairs, with her legs sprawled out across the step, totally blocking their maid Roberta's path and causing her to drop whatever she was carrying. "Fliss, move."

"Uh! Okay!" Fliss said. Hermione could hear her walking up the stairs, and she knew she hadn't stopped to help Roberta. "Anyway, you'll never guess what I found out!"

"Well, then just tell me!" Hermione said irritably. She was getting really fed up of always having to guess. She wished that Fliss were as straightforward as Chas- no guessing involved, just a lot of excited shrieking.

"Calm down, Mi, I'm just getting to it. Okay, so you know Stuart, right?"

"Yes..." Hermione sighed. Stuart was Fliss's boyfriend, whom she talked about whenever the conversation lulled for any longer than three seconds.

"Well, he was speaking to Jake, and apparently Jake told Stuart to tell me to tell you that he thinks you're cute!"

"And...?"

"That's it! Isn't that great!" Fliss squealed. "Apparently he thinks you look really quirky, and he thinks you're different from other girls. In a good way, of course. So, do you want me to tell Stuart to tell him that you like him too?"

"No," Hermione said. She didn't really care that much for Jake. Sure, he had been nice to Ron, and he hadn't actually done anything to make her dislike him, but she found him... irritating. Besides, there was only one boy whose opinion she cared about...

"Look, Fliss, I'm kind of busy at the moment, so I'll speak to you later, okay?"

"Sure, whatever," Fliss said. She sounded slightly dejected and Hermione knew that she was upset that Hermione hadn't been more thrilled by her news. Fliss had always fancied herself as a matchmaker. "Bye."

"Bye!" Hermione said, before laying the phone down. She returned to the living room, where Ron was rewriting his Potions essay.

"What was that all about?" he asked, as he scratched out what appeared to be a large chunk of his essay.

Hermione smiled. "Nothing important..."