Chapter 13
Ron, Hermione and Harry were sitting in the dining room, having breakfast. As Hermione had pointed out (more than once; in a loud voice) that this was, by far, the best breakfast she had had since she left Hogwarts. Harry could bet that Ginny was in the kitchen, blushing, like only a member of the Weasly family could. He turned to Ron, remembering him turn scarlet one too many times, as the subject of him fancying Hermione came up.
Speaking of Ron fancying Hermione, he was looking at her intensively as she drank her special mug of strong black coffee she had ordered form Niles. Whom exactly, Harry thought to himself, did Ron think he was kidding? He had known for more years than he could count for that those two would end up together. He had suspected that they liked each other since the first year, however after the Yule Ball it had became too obvious with Lavender and Pravati constantly staring in their crystal balls and laying out their Tarot cards when either Ron or Hermione were in the room and telling them that they saw a wedding drawing near. Hermione would ask irritably whether they were getting married and wanted her to be the made of honour, at which the two shrieked, muttered 'How dare you' and fled the room. That didn't, however, stop them from trying again and they seized the opportunity whenever it presented itself. This didn't go unnoticed by a certain Ginerva Weasly. She used to give Ron and Hermione sideways glances whenever they were not on speaking terms and she was forced to be the middleman between the two of them whilst Harry was in Quiddich practise. Harry never grew tired of coming through the Portrait Hole of the Fat Lady and seeing the three of them study together. Hermione writing essays that were not due for another two weeks, Ron pretending to learn Potions, never actually understanding the difference between wolfsbane and monkshood and Ginny doing her Transfiguration homework and flipping through the pages of her book, firelight playing on her hair.
The Weasly hair. Harry had to admit that he had never admired the fiery hair on any of the other Weaslys but Ginny. The way it matched her eyes, it was simply…
"Harry, would you kindly agree to bring the evidence?" Harry, who was still, stuck somewhere between crystal balls, Tarot cards and the way Ginny's hair matched her eyes, shook his head lightly.
"What?" Ron exclaimed in confusion. "Would you care to explain what you were thinking of just a second ago? Before I so rudely snapped you out of it?"
"I …um…I…mean…. I'll be right back with...the evindence ," Harry stammered. How is a person supposed to tell the other, the other being his best friend, that he was daydreaming about his little sister without getting punched in the face in the process?
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Harry had to go attend Quiddich practise so Ron and Hermione retreated to the library to study the evidence. At first the two of them weren't too happy about Harry going ("You'll be totally defenceless up there!" "For once I agree with her! The perfect target! What are you thinking!" "Well, if I won't show up Wood will hunt me down and kill me anyway. Believe me, he's far more dangerous these days. The Cup's coming up. Besides if anybody tried to hurt me, he'd, in all probability throw himself in front of me before the curse even got close."), but had reluctantly agreed to it and busied themselves with the letters.
"Okay, I'm done Ron. You want to give me the next one?"
"Ne, I'm still reading." Ron answered head bent low.
"If you were any slower, you'd read backwards." Hermione muttered to herself.
Ron just glared at her and before continuing with his reading muttered: "Know-It-All."
"So it's my fault you're slow?" She asked, blush creeping up on her cheeks, eyes darkening.
Can you say: Here we go again!
"No, it's just not nice of you to rub it in." Ron continued calmly.
"Rub it in? Rub it in? I thought I heard you say: Know-It-All, not me!" Her cheeks were flushed as she recalled him saying it to her throughout the years.
"Well, you'd have no reason to say it to me, since I have no wish to know it all and be the best at everything."
"Oh no? Yes, that's true! You never studied as hard as you should have! I still, to this day, can't believe you scored that high in your finals! Well, of course you had to make up for not being as famous as Harry!" Her head was stabbing with pain. She knew she was overreacting over the 'Know-It-All' thing, but she just couldn't help it, it burst out. Nevertheless, seeing Ron's expression, as he looked up from the letter, she knew she had gone too far. They were facing a huge fight. She just knew it. The way his magnificent blue eyes darkened when she had managed to piss him off with saying or doing something… She hated to admit it to herself, but she even liked it – being the one who starts the fight, seeing how the other gets all worked up with something she's said. "All your brothers were such glorious figures in the history of Hogwarts, weren't they? Bill was Head Boy, Charlie Quiddich Captain, Percy Perfect and later on Head Boy. Even Fred and George made a name for themselves as pranksters and Beaters…. And then of course Harry…"
Ron cut her short. "Has it ever occurred to you, Granger, that maybe I never wanted those things? That maybe, just maybe, I wanted to be something else? I studied all right. I studied for the finals, as hard as everyone else did. Maybe not as hard as you, but I had my future figured out, that's something you didn't. I had my eye on it for about a year then and I got it. I got what I wanted, even though I never got to be like one of my brothers, even though I was never famous like Harry, I got it. " Ron faced her furiously, keeping his voice calm and at the end of his little speech turned to face the fireplace.
"You got to be the window washer at The Ministry of Magic? Congrads!" Hermione bit back. She didn't like that the fact that she hadn't had the slightest idea of what she was going to do after she got out of Hogwarts and that it had been so obvious to everyone around her. After all, she was supposed to be the cleverest witch in her year.
"Oh that was rich! Really rich, coming from you!"
"What do you mean coming from me?" She spat out.
" I haven't heard you going on and on about your work. That's what I mean."
"Well…. I'm not supposed to talk about it." Hermione said confusedly, fearing that Ron would dig it out of her.
"Presumably you haven't filled us in because of the simple fact that you do not work, but spend your days laying around reading books and getting smarter and smarter by the day!" Ron said with a smirk.
"And how exactly would that be possible? Do you erroneously suppose I have a tree in my back yard, money growing on it instead of leaves?"
"Might as well have."
"What do you mean by that?" She asked suspiciously.
"I expect Krum to be rich beyond his dreams, after all those years in professional Quiddich. Isn't he?" Ron wore a mask of anger and… something more. Pain?
"Krum? What would he have to do with me?" She asked, confused.
"You two got engaged the same year we graduated, didn't you? And then he retired…" Ron finished the sentence as if it had been the happy ending of a beautiful fairy tail that said…and they lived happily ever after.
"For your information I am not married to Krum. We broke off our engagement. "She hissed through her clinched teeth."Yes, I actually work for a living. Not that I could say the same for you."
"I don't have a rich girlfriend at hand so I must be working for a living." He was smirking again.
"Oh, really? I asked Gin a few years back, when I ran into her at Flourish and Blotts, how you and Harry were, and she said that if I wanted more info on Harry, I should probably just read the sports section, as he never replied his letters. She knew nothing of you. Only that you came around on birthdays and holidays, looking tired. She wondered if you had a job altogether."
"Well, I do. Inform her of it when you see her next time!" he turned to face the fireplace once more, his fiery hair spiked, after pulling his hand through it constantly.
"So?"
"What?"
"What do you do?"
"The first rule is that I'm not supposed to talk about it." He said quietly.
"The second rule is that you are not supposed to talk about it?" She asked unbelievingly.
"Yeah." Ron stared into the flames, then realising what Hermione had just said. "Unspeakable?"
Hermione nodded. She could hardly believe what Ron was saying. He was part of The Unspeakables. She had never seen him around; then again she had only seen her division, as she always Apparated to work. Maybe he worked for another division or something.
"What division?" She asked. "Aurors?"
"Ne. DMD (Different Magical Disasters)."
"That's my division. Who's your boss?"
"I'm the boss of DMD." Ron grinned at her. "You work under…?"
"Smith." Hermione said bitterly.
"Aha, nasty piece of work that guy. Told me to go back to Hogwarts, when he found out they made me the head of Disasters, instead of him." He chuckled. "Say, you weren't the one to mess up with the giants, were you?"
"I was." She looked at her shoes, finding them very interesting at the moment.
Ron roared with laughter. "Smith was outraged. Came to my office. Told me to fire agent." He broke into fits of laughter once again, then imitated the poor fellow: "Problem. Must her fire. Work bad done. "
B
