It had started out as such a good morning, too, Hermione thought, as she stood stiffly, looking out the eaves of Grimmauld Place. The birds flew back and forth, and here she was, trapped - and not doing a damn thing. Below, sounds of wild laughter echoed. She heard Ron call upward, "Charlie's here!", and then the stampeding of Ginny flying down the stairs. Harry followed at a bounding, leisurely lope. It didn't feel right, for her to go downstairs. Charlie hadn't heard about the fight... and he wasn't her brother, either. Why should she want to welcome him? They weren't friends.
With muscles and bones that complained about her enforced positioning, she tottered back to her room, grabbing the first book that she could find. It was dark and delicious - spells and legends wrapped together, forming a twisted skein. She had never wanted to use Dark Magic - but learning about it? It called like a flame, flickering at the edge of her awareness, calling her to just step a bit closer. When her moods were at their darkest, she leaned in.
Minutes later, she was again in the eaves, reading the book - as she heard -without listening, the pounding of feet as Charlie and the other kids retreated to someone's room. Light laughter did not catch her attention - and neither did Harry's green eyes, still and quiet, looking up at her a moment, before heading into an unseen room.
Perhaps minutes passed, perhaps hours - Hermione was wrapped up in the book, and utterly insensate to time or her body's own needs. Suddenly, she snapped out of her daze, as twin freckled hands pushed her hunched shoulders back. Looking upward, her eyes caught Ron's blue eyes - glimmering with something almost mischevious. She looked again, more firmly in the present, no, that was hope. And, deep inside her, she felt a dark snake settle in her belly, twisting and turning.
"Mione! I figured out what to do! Well, really Charlie told me -" Ron babbled quickly, the joyous look on his face unfading.
Hermione bit her lip to hold back a sigh. "What is it, Ron? I'm reading."
"You don't need to marry whomever-it-is! All you need to do is to get your parents to cancel the betrothal!" Ron's face lit into an unrepentant grin.
"My -muggle- parents?" Hermione asked, slowly climbing to her feet - both to gain a few inches on Ron, and because she was beginning to get annoyed. Having the higher ground might help to keep her temper.
Ron nodded, checked himself slightly, and then continued, "Surely your parents would understand that you can't marry a Muggle - Hermione, you're a witch!" And Ron grinned like this had been the most profound thing that he had ever thought of. Perhaps it was, at that. Still, he needn't look like she ought to fall at his feet for it, Hermione thought, as her fingers gave a bit of a twitch, wanting a wand that was barely out of their reach.
"Ron-" Hermione said, taking a moment to look over the boy she had secretly fantasized about for years, now. He had a broad smile, and bright sparkly eyes. She had to wonder, if only for a second, if she was really saying goodbye to him now. He had such a terrible temper after all. Straightening as tall as she could, she said sternly, "Ron, it wasn't my parents that made this engagement."
"What do you mean?" Ron asked, clearly shocked. Below, the twins were looking out of their room - clearly eavesdropping. Hermione sent them scrambling with a glare - she'd deal with them later. [Not that she actually expected them to stop eavesdropping. That was a futile endeavor, and Hermione eschewed futility at all costs.]
"It's... it's magically binding." Hermione said, her voice wanting to quiver, as she stammered through the explanation. "I'm not going to run away from this - pretend it didn't happen."
"But... you have to marry him?" Ron said, looking at her with hopeful eyes, even as the hope dwindled.
"I said I would. Would you have me break my word?" Hermione said.
Harry stood at the bottom of the flight of stairs, and asked simply, "Is the marriage permanent? Could you get a divorce?" The glare Hermione focused on him made him quickly realize that it was the absolutely wrong thing to say. His face paled at the force of her anger, but he stood there, practically demanding an answer. How dare he take Ron's side in this? Ron was acting completely immature, and Harry was trying everything he could to give the boy false hope.
"I could." Hermione said, her voice spitting nails.
"Then it'll be okay!" Ron said, with a grin, "Don't worry, I can wait!"
"Like you did with Lavender?" Hermione said, her grin starting to show glimpses of the rage she was feeling under the surface.
"Exactly!" Ron said, completely oblivious to her anger.
Hermione had had enough - her two friends were obviously in league against her - no matter how crazy that sounded. All she wanted was out. Some time to retreat, to heal. Shoving Ron's shoulder roughly with her own, she barreled down the steps. Harry, with his seeker reflexes, flattened himself to the wall. Hermione had reached the second floor before someone dared to break her run. Fred and George stood there, wide grins on their faces. "We hear someone's getting married!" they said, their words echoing oddly from one mouth to the next. "Who's the lucky guy?" They said, teasingly.
In her heart of hearts, Hermione knew they meant well. She really did. However, that was exactly the wrong thing to ask... "I don't know!" She shrieked at them, hurrying downstairs. She stepped into the powder room, ignoring the audible sniff of the mirror at her frizzy appearance. Even in her rage, her frustration, Hermione remembered Professor Snape's words. Undoing her ponytail, she swiftly muttered a few quick charms. Violet eyes, black hair with just the hint of a wave, spiralling neatly down from her head. She didn't even need to change the length - the lack of curls made her hair easily a handsbreath longer.
Without a word, she slammed her wand down on the sink, and strode out of the house. She needed to think.
[a/n: Hermione is not having a good day. Have I depicted that well? Tell me in a review!]