Title: "Mr. Pot, Meet Mr. Kettle"
Author: Witch's Quill
Pairing: RW/HG & HG/GW
Summary: Any amount of time spent at Grimmauld Place is never anything short of an adventure. After all, you never know what sort of trouble you might get yourself in to. Especially when there's Magic in the air...
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Here, finally, is an R/Hr fic that focuses primarily on the actual romance of the two. Of course, there are still going to be some fun sub-plots and I hope to include a few other pairings in there as well ;)
And oh, if the title confuses you, just think of the saying "The pot calling the kettle black." If you've never heard of it...ask your mom. She'll know.
"Mr. Pot, Meet Mr. Kettle"
"No, don't look at me!" Hermione dove behind the dingy, moth-eaten couch in the living room of Number 12 Grimmauld Place."Come on Hermione, let us see it."
"No!"
"It's just a haircut, Hermione—it can't be that bad."
"Really, what are you doing behind the sofa?"
"I didn't expect you to be here so soon," came the mumbled reply. "You startled me…"
Harry and Ron looked at each other and tried very hard not to laugh. They had only just arrived from the Burrow via flooing into the house across the street (the family that lived there had just left on a vacation to Africa) and upon entering Grimmauld Place, they happened to come upon Hermione just as she was exiting the stairwell. Unfortunately (for them) she had seen them before they saw her, and had scurried into hiding before they could even catch a glimpse of the haircut that Ginny had told them so much about in an owl that very morning.
Painfully curious, the two boys started creeping towards Hermione's hiding place. But before they could reach it, a little hand appeared over the back of the couch and grabbed the lacy throw, pulling it down and out of sight.
"Hermione," said Ron. "What are you—" But he choked before he could finish his sentence. The moldy brown throw suddenly emerged around the side of the couch in the very obvious shape of a human head. A small hole in the fabric revealed two familiar, honey-brown eyes and a stray curl of frizzy hair. Ron's face turned purple as he coughed violently, caught between a roaring laugh and the last word of his sentence. Harry gave him a hearty slap on the back.
"It is too that bad," she said sharply, disappearing again. "And why are you here? You weren't supposed to arrive until late tonight."
"Well, it's good to see you too," huffed Harry, though not very convincingly as he was still finding the situation very funny.
"Yeah, remember us?" said Ron. He pointed to himself and articulated very slowly, "Friends."
There was a great, heaving sigh, and then Hermione's voice floated over the couch, sounding tense and irritated. "You just—you have to promise not to laugh, okay?"
"Oh come on, Hermione," said Ron, with a smile much too wide for his face. "When have we ever laughed at you?"
"Mm, two seconds ago comes to mind."
"I wasn't laughing—I was…coughing. Isn't that true, Harry?"
Harry didn't say anything in reply but shrugged, reluctant to get in the middle.
"Exactly right, Harry," said Ron, unperturbed. "Now come out already, Hermione—I want to get some breakfast."
There was a moment of silence. Then, "Okay," she said hesitantly.
At last Hermione stood, the ridiculous throw still pulled over her head. Harry thought she looked very much as though she were being eaten by a big, fuzzy, brown sludge monster. But he did not articulate this particular thought.
"It's really short," Hermione warned them, still peaking out from beneath the moldy fabric.
"Oh really, Hermione—it looks just fine!" Ginny suddenly appeared from the stairwell and strode over to Hermione, grabbing a big handful of the sludge monster and yanking it off her head.
With a shriek Hermione hid her face behind her hands, only hesitantly peeked out through parted fingers.
The boys gasped. She was right—her hair was very short. Her frizzy mess of curls was now cropped (though still bushy as ever) and came down to just below the upper line of her jaw. She had obviously spent time with it, as it now parted to the side and was pulled fashionably back with a tiny broomstick-shaped hairpin.
It was short, thought Harry, but not at all unfortunate looking. He actually thought it looked quite nice.
And from the expression on Ron's face, Harry was pretty sure he thoroughly agreed.
Ginny cleared her throat and Hermione gave a start, blushing as she lowered her arms. Ginny just rolled her eyes and said to the boys in a casual tone, "So? What's the verdict, Jury?"
Ron sputtered, and then appeared to be about to start a sentence, but nothing intelligible came out. Harry smiled and stepped in for him. "It looks...uh, nice, Hermione. You obviously have great taste in, er…um…" He indicated the broomstick clip. "…hair things," he finished lamely.
Much to his surprise, Hermione beamed. "You think so?" she asked, still smiling.
Ron was still sputtering, and Harry started to feel a little sorry for him.
Ginny, however, seemed to think he was an outstandingly funny joke. "And how about you, Oh-Articulate-One?"
Ron flushed a brilliant shade of red and shoved his hands in his pockets with a scowl. "I don't care," he finally managed to grumble.
Hermione's smile fell a little. "Oh," she said. "Yes, well, it isn't really a big deal." After a pause, her smile returned, strangely bigger than before. She suddenly seemed over-bright—as though she were a lamp and someone had just turned her dimmer up to full blast. "It'll grow back someday, I suppose," she sighed, shrugging her shoulders and with a flick of her arms, replacing the throw in a cloud of dust.
"Exactly right," said Ginny. Then all four of them hurried on to breakfast.
Harry's mouth watered as Mrs. Weasley set down plate after plate of her exquisite cooking; steaming buttermilk pancakes, crisp strips of bacon, and sausage links. Mrs. Weasley might drive Ron mad, but she undoubtedly made the best breakfasts in the world.
"Eat up, dears," Mrs. Weasley said as everyone dove into the steaming buffet with hapless abandon. She bustling around the table, making sure napkins were in laps and elbows tucked neatly away before she finally took a seat herself. "If you lot are still hungry when you're done, there is plenty more where that came from."
"I fink fish ish p'enty, Mum," said Fred, his mouth so full of food that he looked very much like a freckly, red-haired chipmunk. "Fanks."
Everyone at the table nodded their agreement, their mouths also stuffed near to exploding. Mrs. Weasley looked very pleased.
It was a long time before conversation of any kind started up around the breakfast table, even though it included every member of the Weasley family (minus Percy, who Harry didn't think had ever been to Headquarters, and Mr. Weasley, who had left early that morning). In addition, there were also a few other Order members including both Sirius and Lupin, who had been making a significant dent in the food supply for about a week now.
"Good heavens, Remus, you are thin," said Mrs. Weasley eventually, as she spooned another steaming portion of eggs onto Lupin's plate. "Have I not been giving you enough food? I'll never forgive myself! Please, Remus, take some more bacon—Oh, that's right, you don't eat meat do you? Well have some more eggs then, dear."
Lupin waved his arms in defense and pushed his chair back a ways from the table. "Please, Molly, you are very kind, but I think that if I eat any more I might very well explode."
Mrs. Weasley made a face. "Nonsense—look at you! All skin and bones, and hardly enough—"
"Really, Molly, I'm fine." Lupin attempted to give her what looked like a reassuring smile.
Mrs. Weasley, however, still seemed to take offense (though she did her best to hide it). "Well," she said, standing up with an over-bright expression on her face that very much resembled Hermione's following Ron's comment about her hair. "I suppose I should start clean-up then," she quipped, grabbing up the nearest plates and sweeping them into the kitchen, even though some of them were still loaded with food.
"Now, Molly, don't," said Lupin, giving everyone an exasperated look. Tonks giggled, but then started to choke on her bacon and so had to hide her face in her napkin.
"Molly, at least let me help you with the dishes." Lupin stood and started gathering up glasses and plates—though he was sure to only grab the empty ones.
"Have the four of you gotten your letters yet?" asked Sirius after time, when the bickering between Mrs. Weasley and Lupin in the kitchen had ceased and there was only the sound of water splashing and dishes being banged around.
"Not yet," said Hermione, and Harry almost smiled at the gloomy tone in her voice. "They aren't supposed to arrive for another week—I do hope I make Head Girl! Though I doubt I will...I mean, have you seen the way Professor McGonagall has been looking at me lately? I swear it was that essay in Transfiguration about Wood Sprites and how to turn their nests into handbags—but I really do feel that it is extremely inconsiderate to the Wood Sprites! After all, how would you like it if your house was turned into—"
"Yeah…" Sirius replied, looking almost sorry he asked.
Then the table lapsed into silence again. There was an awkward space of time during which everyone pushed their food around with their forks and the only sound was Mrs. Weasley grumping around the kitchen.
"Well, we're off," said Fred abruptly, standing up and throwing his green fringed napkin on the table. George followed suit almost immediately.
"Where are you going?" asked Ron suspiciously.
George reached over and pinched Ron's cheek. "Money's not going to count itself now is it, ikle Ronnikins?"
Ron swatted his hand away with an annoyed growl.
"Business doing well then?" Sirius asked curiously, piling up his own empty dishes.
"Just blooming," replied Fred. Then the both of them gave a quick salute to the room and left without another word.
Ron sat back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest and looking sulky. Tonks struck up a conversation with Ginny and Hermione about something along the lines of a "girls' day out"…or maybe just something about lunch in Diagon Alley—Harry wasn't sure, but didn't really care as it was pretty clear that he wasn't invited.
"Want to play a game of Chess, Ron?" Harry asked him, trying to get his attention away from how successful his brothers were.
"Sure," he replied moodily. "I'll go upstairs and get my—AARGH!" Ron gave a sudden convulsion and toppled off his chair. "MY FOOT! IT'S GOT MY FOOT! GET IT OFF!"
With a great jerk, Ron flung his leg from under the table, and whatever it was that had latched itself onto his toes, rocketed across the floor with a yelp and disappeared through the kitchen doorway. There was an answering scream from Mrs. Weasley, and suddenly the thing came zooming out again, launching itself at Hermione, who caught it up in her arms and hugged it furiously.
"What in the bloody hell was that!" Ron gasped, his face pale. "Hermione?"
But Hermione didn't answer, occupied instead on crooning over the thing that was still clutched in her arms.
Sirius gave a huge sigh. "That, would be Hermione's new puppy."
Harry gave the thing that Hermione was holding a better look and saw that it was indeed a puppy. It was a fat little thing, and didn't seem to be of any particular breed that Harry knew of (which wasn't saying much). At the moment, it was preoccupied with chewing delightedly on Hermione's hair and squirming so vigorously that Hermione seemed to be having a great deal of trouble not dropping it.
"But, Hermione," said Ron abashedly. "You have a cat!"
Hermione finally looked up from the puppy and gave them a miserable look. "I—Well—They don't get along very well," she admitted gloomily.
"I should say not!" said Mrs. Weasley, who had just appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking very disgruntled. "Hermione, would you please keep that animal under control! I can't very well wash dishes when I've got a little creature running around under my feet and tripping me at every turn!"
"I know, Mrs. Weasley. I am so sorry—I really am. But he's only just a puppy after all…"
Ron gave a "Ha!" of disbelief. "That little monster just about took my leg off!"
"He is not a monster," said Hermione, stamping her foot as she hugged the puppy even closer. Said canine, however, did not seem to mind, as it was still making quite a meal out of Hermione's now thoroughly slimed hair.
"Yeah," Ginny said as she put her hands on her hips in a very Mrs. Weasley-like manner. "And his name is Rupert!"
A/N: More will follow soon, I promise. And if you are so inclined, please feel free to leave me a review. I would very much like to know what you think :)