Summer is Overrated
first 3 chapters by Mystical Spirits
Chapter 3:
Ice Cream Obsessions
The alarm clock beeped annoyingly at exactly nine o'clock in the morning. Hermione groaned, but, being used to the rude awakenings the clock gave her, slammed the top of the device irritatingly.
She had set the alarm as soon as she arrived to her beach house after yesterday's activities with Malfoy, making sure that she wouldn't be late once again. Luckily, Hermione had set the alarm to go off much earlier than she was to meet the Slytherin, allowing her to get some last few minutes of sleep at the same time as her being aware that it was morning.
Of course, she had very good self-control of herself, and like the perfect Gryffindor she worked so hard to become, she ignored the right to sleep in a few more minutes and immediately dragged herself out of bed.
She made her way to the bathroom at the end of the hall, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. As soon as she reached her destination, she closed the door shut to block out as much sunlight as she could, covering herself in a semi-dark shadow, as the blinds in the room were closed as well.
Blinking slowly so that her eyes were, at most, half-open, Hermione grabbed a brush lying out on the sink and automatically detangled her morning bush of hair. Normally, in the past, she would of course never care about her hair first thing in the morning over everything else – not to mention that she was going to have to brush it again later after her shower anyway – but she just couldn't stand trying to freshen up in the morning only to have her hair brush against her face and annoy her. So she made her flyaway bed-hair look as neat as it could and out of her eyes and face before continuing her attempt at getting ready.
Looking at a nearby shelf, Hermione saw a large plastic container of mouthwash. She hated the stuff immensely, for the taste was unbearably strong, but as her parents were dentists, she found she should abide to their wishes.
Hermione, she remembered her mother telling her once, every morning you should be using mouthwash! Not only does it get rid of all that extra plaque, but it also helps your breath smell and feel minty fresh! Brushing your teeth merely cleans your teeth, dear, not make your breath smell bearable…! And then Hermione remembered her going on and on about the many uses and results of mouthwash, not to mention the many different flavors. Unfortunately for her, though, was the fact that whenever she wanted to force herself to not drown her mouth with acid-like liquid, she remembered this particular conversation and argument with her mum, and she ended up rinsing her mouth anyway.
And this morning was like any other. After the disgusting taste in her mouth disappeared, Hermione released the wince on her face and, now more awake than before, walked back to her pink and white room to get any necessary clothes for the day ahead, just to once again head to the bathroom.
Dumping her neatly folded clothes on the long shelf next to the sink, she turned a few shower taps and let the water pour into the tub below it. While letting the water heat up a bit more, Hermione stripped herself of an oversized shirt that Ron let her keep last year and her short pajama shorts. She tested the water by placing her hand, palm-up, into the pouring water. As the temperature was a bit too hot, she automatically lowered it a bit and stepped into the tub.
Allowing her naked body to become completely soaked, Hermione stood and raised her face to the showerhead. Whilst she washed herself as usual, she let her mind wander to Malfoy.
Why was he being so – dare she say it – tolerable? Why was he respecting her conditions that she had set two days ago so well? Why did she invite him for the second day in a row to do something with her? Well, she supposed the answers to all those questions were a bit obvious:
It was all because of his father, and the fact that he had no idea what to do for the rest of the summer by himself.
If it weren't for his father, he wouldn't be civil or nice in the slightest, Hermione was sure. His mother wouldn't have fallen into clear depression, and Malfoy would never have come to this island. Hermione could completely understand why Malfoy was following the rules, for he indeed needed an escort around an area he wasn't all that familiar with, and on that first day, he had found Hermione – although he didn't know it at first – which resulted in the two making an agreement, one that he knew he would have to abide to. And as for why Hermione herself had offered an entertaining day to her most-hated rival, it was also because she had to do her part of the deal herself.
Oh, and there was the fact that yesterday she had quite a fun time with him.
Not that she meant to, though. After all, just because the two had spent an entire day doing their best to respect their truce, it didn't change the history of the past six years at Hogwarts. Malfoy was still, all in all, a jerk, even though it was almost all his father's fault yet again, and Hermione was still her bossy, bookish self.
But then again, it had been an entire day, just the two of them, with limits of what to talk about, as conversations including magic was out of the question in the Muggle world. Hermione could honestly say that she never expected that the Gryffindor and the Slytherin could enjoy each other's company as much as they did – assuming, of course, that Malfoy enjoyed the aquarium.
But, then again, no one even thought that a Gryffindor and Slytherin would spend an entire day together at an aquarium. So who was to think that the two couldn't have fun? There was a truce, a hint of politeness because of the events at the beach two days ago, and the fact that there were hours throughout the day when both Hermione and Malfoy eventually eased up and were as nice as they could be in a situation like that. After all, you couldn't expect them both to be polite and merely civil for an entire day without lightening up at all.
But, Hermione thought, rinsing her hair, if all that friendliness occurred in such a short time, what will happen when Harry comes? Obviously, only time would tell about what would happen when Harry found out about the Malfoy-filled week she had had, but Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit anxious and nervous of his coming. Knowing him, he might overreact, though not nearly as harshly as she would expect Ron to.
But although Hermione knew Ron well enough to take the news of this week badly, she didn't completely know what Harry's reaction would be. It was strange, her liking him like she did, and being his best friend for all these years, but for some reason, Harry just had that aura of mysteriousness that she just didn't know what to expect exactly. Would he overreact, like Ron? Would he ask a lot of questions, like Hermione would herself? Would he do absolutely nothing?
Only one thing was for sure: he would be concerned. That was one of things Hermione loved so much about him - he was always so caring, even though all the troubles his friends ever had was nothing compared to the problems he himself had had to face. So, yes, he was modest, but even modest people didn't necessarily have to be so…devoted into helping others as Harry was.
So surely he would understand about this whole Malfoy predicament, wouldn't he? He would understand that Malfoy wasn't utterly terrible, or that there were no biting comments (at least in the first two days, so far), or that if, by chance, Hermione had not accepted the truce, the entire month before school started would be a living hell, as they both would have to deal with an angry Slytherin prince.
For some reason, she felt slightly guilty for thinking as though she had no choice but to accept that truce Malfoy had offered her. His asking for a bit of help seemed more sincere than most would think, and Hermione couldn't help but feel uncomfortable by blaming him for the entire week (or the first two days of it, anyway). After all, he simply asked her to help him, not told her to, and that was reason enough to know that she had not had to accept his proposal at all.
Hermione shook her head and pushed the thoughts of her predicament to the back of her mind, finally turning the water taps so that the water stopped completely. She smiled to herself, pleased that she didn't have to shave her legs. As a matter of fact, she had never shaven her legs in her life. Her aunt had told her many years ago, before Hermione had a single dark hair on her legs, that waxing them would be much more useful.
If you wax your legs instead of shaving them, she had told her, you will only have to get them fixed once every few months, rather than at least once every day. Not to mention that those legs of yours will be amazingly smooth and not the least bit bumpy, like mine turned out… And then she had ranted about her terrible, coarse legs and explained the reasons to why she had to wear pants every day.
Hermione rolled her eyes inwardly. Her aunt had always been a bit annoying, going on and on like that, but then again, she supposed it ran in the family. And waxing her legs did work magnificently, and it didn't even hurt at all, since she was used to it by now.
Hermione rung out the extra amounts of water in her hair and pushed back the curtains to step on the plush mat on the floor, grabbing a white towel to wrap her body in. She stepped to the sink and wiped part of the large fogged-up mirror above it so she could see her reflection a bit clearer.
She dried her damp hair, which was now no longer bushy because of the water's effect on it. After she dried it enough so that it wouldn't drip too much, she wrapped the towel around her body, just to pick up that brush again to smooth out her hair.
A few minutes later, Hermione was clean and as dry as she could get at the moment. She exited the bathroom in her fitted pale yellow off-the-shoulder top, her white tank top straps showing at the top, and a pair of comfortable jeans. Her hair was still slightly wet, but the natural curls in her hair could already been seen through the dampness.
As Hermione once again entered her room to dump her pajamas from the night before, she glanced at the clock quickly. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet, and her outing with Malfoy wasn't until noon.
Hermione felt a sense of comfort run through her. She had gotten up earlier than necessary, just like usual (save yesterday). She had always liked getting up before she had to. She didn't fancy the idea of sleeping her life away, and these next few hours alone would be pleasant and relaxing, she knew.
She made her way to the kitchen to prepare herself some breakfast, but not before picking up her ribbon on her bookshelf.
She always wore a ribbon in her hair, her friends knew, which was why she loved this particular ribbon especially. Ginny had given it to her just a few months ago, for no apparent reason whatsoever except to make Hermione happy. This ribbon was, of course, magical, and it changed color when it was picked up to whatever color it was longed to be. Yesterday Hermione had worn it white, and today she let the ribbon turn into a pale yellow that matched her top perfectly.
Once she arrived in the kitchen, she paused shortly to tie this special ribbon into her hair expertly. Although she always tied her hair in a ribbon, she still styled her hair differently at times, from a mere ponytail to a messy bun. Today she did her hair half up and half down, causing some of her wavy layered hair in the front to pass her ears and hang to frame her face.
Hermione opened the fridge to look for any type of suitable breakfast. Finding a loaf of bread and some marmalade, she quickly made some toast to eat.
While eating, and for a long while afterwards, she watched TV, only pausing to brush her teeth, and lost track of time. Luckily, though, at the beginning of a series of commercials, she glanced at a clock hanging at the wall to find that it was half an hour until noon.
Smiling to herself for her good instincts of looking at the clock at the perfect time, Hermione slipped on the same white flip flops she had worn the day before and put her house keys and some money into her jeans pocket, not wanting to bother taking a bag with her. She locked the door to the house and left, not taking any of her sporting equipment with her like yesterday, but walking to the Sunbeam Inn instead.
Draco paced the lobby of the Sunbeam Inn, glancing at the clock every now and then. Fifteen minutes to go.
Why was he so anxious for Granger to arrive? Well, alright, so he had fun with her yesterday, but he refused to believe that that was the only reason he was waiting for he so intently. He was also anxious, he told himself, because he didn't want to stay in this inn all day doing nothing, but instead, he wanted to go out and enjoy himself, even if it meant spending another whole day with Granger.
It wasn't that he didn't want to spend the day with her; he actually enjoyed her company and was more comfortable than he expected he would be with her. It was just that it seemed…fast.
This was Harry Potter's best friend, a Gryffindor Muggleborn, a girl he never particularly liked much, although he truly didn't hate her, like he told her two days ago on the beach. But it was a bit strange to have such a sudden change in the situation, a change that made two enemies have fun together.
But it was different now, wasn't it? His father was gone. His mum didn't exactly care, to say the least. There were no students or teachers or anyone he knew in the magical world on this island, except for Granger, and soon, Potter. He had, needless to say, some freedom, at least for a while.
So to say that he was excited for going to lunch and to meet some of Granger's friends could be understandable, couldn't it? And, as weird as it was, the dislike for Granger was quickly disappearing. Sure, he still thought that at school she was a bossy know-it-all, but here on this island, just the two of them, he was, needless to say, happy when he spent time with her.
But this is only for a week anyway, Draco told himself. Once this week is up, Granger will go crawling back to Potter, and all this fun will be over.
Somehow this thought didn't make him feel all that better.
He was finally, for the first time in a long while, having fun. He was having a good time. And Granger was the one giving him this experience, strangely. But it didn't matter, did it? Potter would come and this good, happy feeling he got when he was with Granger the past two days would be gone.
And guess who was going to take it away from him? Potter. Not Granger, but Potter. Potter would show up and take another thing away from him. First it was his friendliness, back in the beginning of first year, and recently it was both his parents, although his father being gone was quite a good thing. But now, he was going to take away his only excitement for the entire summer.
So, at this moment, now only five minutes before twelve, Draco was anxious for the Gryffindor to arrive. He might as well make the most of the time he had, right?
Draco looked up, hearing the heavy door of the inn being pulled open. Granger was early. But when he looked up, he was struck numb. Yes, it was indeed Granger that entered through those doors. But her appearance was…well, Draco could only think of one word at the moment to describe it: gorgeous.
Gorgeous? he asked himself. Never thought I would call her that!
But he knew that it was the perfect word to describe her as she walked through the doorway, not noticing his reaction to her appearance.
He had never really thought of Granger like this before. Well, yes, he knew she was pretty, and yes, he knew she was definitely a girl, if you caught the drift. But the way she looked just…stunned him, for some reason. He had seen girls who dressed just like this, only their faces had make-up, if they had caught his attention. But Granger had not a singleounce of cosmetics on her face, and he knew there were prettier girls out there, but for some strange reason, all he was able to think of was her. For some reason, her simple appearance, compared to some other girls, was breathtaking.
She gave a small smile and made her way over to him, her elbows out and her thumbs in her front jean pockets.
"Hey," she said casually.
Draco forced himself to move and respond, doing his best to get over her looks. "Hey, yourself," he half smirked, half smiled.
"You ready to go?" she shrugged her shoulders inward a bit. Draco couldn't help but think it was cute.
"Sure am." He walked towards her a few more steps before she turned and walked next to him. Over her shoulder, he spotted the young bellboy at the counter looking at her in a way Draco didn't like. He didn't like it at all.
He suddenly felt very possessive of her. He stepped closer to her and placed his hand on her lower back. Like he expected, she was surprised at this. She turned her head to look at him, and, not knowing what to say or do, he muttered softly, "Play along."
She looked confused, but she got the hint that Draco wanted her to allow him to guide her out like this, for some reason currently unknown to her. Over her shoulder, yet again, he sneaked a glance at the bellboy once more, angered that he was still looking at her, although his face showed slight disappointment at where Draco's hand was. All the same, Draco felt that possessive feeling overcome him, and he slid his hand further across Granger's back to her waist to pull her closer to him.
Again, he felt her stiffen a bit before relaxing. Draco wanted to look at the bellboy's face now, but they had passed him already, no longer giving Draco an unsuspicious chance to see.
The short walk to the inn doors seemed to take hours to both Draco and Granger, when it really only took mere seconds. But when they got there, Draco opened a door with his free hand before Granger had a chance to move to open it herself. He led her through first, his hand still holding her close, and he followed, shutting the glass door and leaving the bellboy behind.
Draco's arm was still draped around Granger outside until they walked out of view of the inn and its see-through glass windows. Unfortunately, the moment was over too soon.
"What was that about?" Granger moved out of Draco's grasp and stood in front of him.
For some strange reason, Draco couldn't help but feel…colder. The warmth that Granger gave him was gone. And not only that, but he found himself - dare he say it - missing the feel of her body close to his. His hand ached a bit from letting go of her, as though it couldn't stand the thought of not holding her close.
Damn, he thought, what the hell is with me?
"Nothing," he said stupidly. He could tell she didn't buy it.
"Nothing?" she asked incredulously. Draco was glad she didn't sound angry, but she was definitely shocked and confused. Well, it was understandable, wasn't it? Draco Malfoy putting his arm around his enemy randomly? "You expect me to believe that that was nothing?"
"Well…" Draco said, preparing himself to explain as vaguely as he could, "the guy in there."
"What about him?" she asked slowly and cautiously.
"It's nothing," he said, planning to leave it at that, but her look made him continue. "He was eyeing you like a piece of meat. What was I supposed to do?"
Whatever answer she was expecting, Draco was sure it wasn't that. "Excuse me?" She paused, her eyes wider than they were a few seconds before.
Draco could understand. He doubted Hermione Granger had received many looks, as mean as it was to say, but her bookish nature, he thought, wasn't one that attracted a lot of attention. Not to mention that Draco Malfoy, the Draco Malfoy, not only held her close, but made an action to protect her from another guy.
"Look," he said, getting a bit more awkward, "let's just…let's just go have lunch now, okay?"
To his relief, she closed her gaping mouth and turned to walk to the boardwalk. Draco followed behind her, and the two walked on in silence for a while. That is, until the boardwalk came into clear view.
"Malfoy?" He turned to look at the Gryffindor next to him. "Thanks."
He smiled a genuine smile. "No problem, Granger."
She smiled back, a smile that Draco couldn't help but relish. "You're sweet."
"Yeah, just don't tell anyone, okay?" he shrugged the awkwardness back. He didn't wait all morning just to have a silent day with this girl.
Lucky for him, she laughed. "Oh, of course not! What would the Slytherins say?"
"Well, first they'd say you're crazy. Second, they'd check to make sure hell hasn't frozen over."
She laughed again. Merlin, it was strange how he loved making her laugh.
The rest of the walk to the boardwalk, they joked and teased each other, mostly about each other's school houses. By the time they reached the line at the small burger stand, they were both completely comfortable with each other like they were the day before at the aquarium, the bellboy in the back of their minds.
"Well," Draco teased, "it's not like we're the only rule-breaking students." He did his best to not mention Slytherin or Gryffindor or anything that would hint to the Muggles around them about their world and their kind. "From what I hear, you, Potter, and Weasley tend to cause a bit of trouble."
"A bit?" Granger smiled, pretending to be offended. "Why, Malfoy, you should know by now that only the Weasley twins caused more trouble than us!"
Draco scoffed. "How modest of you."
"Indeed," she replied, sarcastically sophisticated. This earned a laugh from Draco. He never remembered a time when a single someone made him laugh so much in such ashort amount of time.
Once at the head of the line, the two both ordered cheeseburgers and French fries, but nothing to drink ("We're going to go to the ice cream place afterwards, anyway!" reminded Granger. "Save your appetite!"). Draco shook his head when he saw Granger dig out some money from her pocket.
"I don't think so, Granger," he said, pushing her hand away. "My treat."
"We didn't agree on that," she protested.
"Well, now we are." He took out his own Muggle money and paid for their lunch.
"What a gentlemen," she laughed as they brought their food to a nearby plastic table with a built-in umbrella above it.
"Only the finest for the lady," he joked as they both took a bite from their burgers.
The two limited their conversation for the next few minutes, hungrily wolfing down half their meal. When Draco had only his chips left in his paper tray, he would pick one up, spilt it in two, lean back, and toss one piece of it up in the air to catch it in his mouth.
He was pleased to see that Granger had taken an interest in his game. He knew she had seen that he caught every single piece in his mouth when he threw it up in the air.
"Malfoy: the genius of chips," she teased, smiling.
"Hey, it takes practice!"
"And, pray tell, what on Earth would you use this…skill for in life?"
"Well…" he smiled, "making you smile, for one." He grinned as she blushed slightly. "Watch." He pulled off the stunt effortlessly again, and he, indeed, got a smile from her. "See? It works."
Draco tried to get her to toss up at least one of her own chips and catch it, but his attempts were unsuccessful. "I'll tell you what," she said, once he was completely done with his meal and she still had half her burger and a few chips left. "I won't abuse my table manners ("Hey!" Draco protested), but I will try this!" Draco watched, amused, as she lifted the bun on top of her burger to slip in the rest of her chips on top of the remaining cheese. She picked up the remains of her meal and took a large bite.
"Woohoo!" Draco clapped his hands, grinning and laughing. "Granger: the genius of the chip sandwich!" he mocked her earlier joke.
"Thank you, thank you!" she mock-bowed, still in her seat and looking ridiculously funny, in Draco's opinion.
Who knew that Hermione Granger could be so food creative and weirdly funny? It was…intriguing, to say the least. She wasn't acting at all like the know-it-all, book-smart girl he thought she always was. He liked the fact that she acted completely different than all those other girls, the ones who couldn't stand watching him catch chips in his mouth or let themselves eat anything out of the ordinary, especially in a bite as big as the one Granger had just taken.
He smiled, glancing at the burger. "Hey, wanna give me some of that?"
Granger scoffed. "Are you kidding me?"
He smirked his famous Malfoy smirk, snatching it right out of her hands. "Thank you!" he said sarcastically. He ignored her fake protests and took a huge bite out of it from the same side she took her bite from. And here I am sharing a cheeseburger with Hermione Granger! he thought.
"Well, sheesh," she said, grabbing her food back, "don't eat it all, will you?" She shoved the small remaining piece into her mouth, not getting the least bit messy from her eating.
"Hungry, are you?" he teased her.
"No thanks to you," she swallowed. "Good thing I still have room for loads of ice cream, unlike your stuffed self."
"Stuffed? Whatever gave you that idea?"
"The fact that you ate both yours and my food, of course!" she smiled innocently.
"You can't separate a man from his food, Granger," he motioned to himself and stood up, "which is why I think we should get going." She laughed again and stood up as well.
"You piggy ferret, you!"
Draco gave her a look that clearly said "well, duh!" She laughed once more and threw both their trash away.
"C'mon then, Ferret Boy," she teased. "Let's go get your ice cream."
He really was something.
Draco Malfoy.
Hermione never imagined that he could be so…funny! He made her laugh just as much as Harry and Ron did, and that was certainly saying something. He was comfortable with her, as she was with him. It was strange, but pleasant. She couldn't help but immediately enjoy her time with Malfoy.
However…
What happened in the Sunbeam Inn still nagged her from the back of her mind. Why did Malfoy…well…care? Why didn't he flinch at the chance to hold her close? And why did he even try to protect her from that guy in the first place? It wasn't like he was approaching them - Hermione didn't even know which guy he was talking about!
Thelobby wasn't exactly empty when she arrived to pick him up, and she wasn't looking at anyone else anyway. She was intent on getting him to spend the day with him, not flirt with whoever she managed to catch the eye of. Not that she planned on catching anyone's eye, though.
At first she didn't believe Malfoy when he told her about the guy in the lobby, but she noticed he looked serious about the matter, and she realized it was true. But why was his plan to get her away from the creep include touching her in general, let alone hold her to him?
"Are we there yet?" Malfoy complained next to her. They were walking toward the other end of the small boardwalk now, to the less crowded area (although there wasn't really too much of a crowd on such a small island as this).
Hermione smiled at a small group of children with candy floss. "Nope, not yet."
There were a few seconds of complete silence between the two. "How about now?"
"Nope."
"Now?"
"No!" Hermione laughed at the childish Slytherin next to her.
"Well, why not?" he whined.
Hermione snickered and muttered to herself. "Someone's ice cream obsessed…"
"Hell, yes!" was the reply. "Don't you know how amazingly amazing of an amazing invention ice cream is?"
"Malfoy," Hermione raised an eyebrow, "it's just milk and sugar."
"What?" he exploded hilariously. "Just milk and sugar? Don't you understand that the milk and sugar are crucial ingredients of this magical concoction?" Hermione's gaze sharpened at the words "magical" and "concoction". Malfoy, however, ignored it. "If there was no ice cream, then…then…then I don't know what we'd do! Imagine if whoever it was who invented it gave up halfway through the making of ice cream? We'd be…we'd all be like Snape!"
Hermione, at this point, cracked up with laughter. Not only did Malfoy sound like a kid who lived and thrived on ice cream, but his insult to Snape, the head of his house, and possible favorite teacher, was amusingly priceless.
"Now tell me, my dear Malfoy," she smirked to herself, wanting to hear the Slytherin's uncharacteristic ranting again, "what exactly is your favorite flavor of ice cream?"
Malfoy's eyes widened. "My favorite flavor? Thousands of different experiments with ice cream and you ask for my favorite flavor? Why, there's strawberry, rocky road, French vanilla, chocolate, cookie dough, sherbet--"
He went on and on, naming as many ice cream flavors as he possibly could, which Hermione knew wouldn't end for a long while. He truly was a spoiled little brat who had obviously been surrounded in ice cream since he was little.
Hermione giggled at the thought of Little Malfoy. She imagined this seventeen-year-old next to her who was a head taller than she was as a short five-year-old with the same pale, pointed face, only looking up at her rather than down. She imagined him parading around the house like the spoiled boy he was, marching around with his nose in the air and his mum watching how cute her little boy was.
Reminds you of a thin and good-looking Dudley Dursley, Hermione giggled to herself, remembering all the stories Harry had told her and Ron about the Dursley boy. But she stopped herself.
Did she, Hermione Granger, just think that Draco Malfoy was good-looking? Well, she supposed it wasn't exactly surprising. After all, all the girls in her dorm, including many of her female friends, had always said it, but she herself, too repulsed with the idea, ignored it completely and never thought of it. Now, however, Hermione was able to see the handsome face itself, and she had finally admitted to herself that he wasn't as repulsive, both looks-wise and personality-wise, as she had always thought.
She mentally shook her head. It's not as though she liked Malfoy or anything. After all, she couldn't even say his first name comfortably…at least not yet. He was still her school enemy, and he had always been that same annoying prick, up until recently, anyway.
"…coffee, pistachio, swirl, chocolate mint--" Malfoy continued.
"Alright, alright!" she laughed, shakingone of hisshoulders so he'd shut up.
"Excuse me, Granger," he complained, smiling, "but I was still going, there!"
"Yeah," she stuck her tongue out at him, "and I get it: ice cream is your life."
"Well," he flirted, "there's you too, Granger."
The two laughed, but for some reason they both couldn't explain, they could both feel a twinge of uneasiness on that simple joke.
Hermione continued to lead the way down the boardwalk, conversation between the two once again nonexistent. Until finally--
"Are we there yet?"
"No," Hermione groaned sarcastically, a smile starting to form once again.
"How about now?"
"No."
"Now?"
"Nope."
"Now?"
Hermione looked up, and her eyes caught a sign still a bit of a ways off: Stevenson's Ice Cream Parlor - Cones of All Shapes and Sizes!
"Yup! We're here…"
Disclaimer:
Don't own HP or the plot -- first three chapters written by MysticalSpirits.
A/N:
This story is adopted from MysticalSpirits, but I'll be continuing it from now on, although she'll be putting in her ideas into this fic.