"She wept uncontrollably for three days and three nights. Nothing could console her, for her one true love was gone from this world, and nothing would ever be the same. However, on the fourth night, as she lay in her bed, a great creaking was heard from her door. She sat up with a gasp."

Hermione felt her eyes begin to flutter closed, and she stroked her pillow with sleepy fingers. Her mother's face was softly illuminated by the golden glow of her lamp, dark brown eyes travelling swiftly from left to right as she read from a dog-eared storybook.

"There, framed in the doorway, he stood, with his waves of auburn hair lightly caressed by the wind, with his piercing blue eyes cutting through the murky darkness that had entered her heart since his absence."

"Hermione…"

"She gazed with wide eyes at his image and tears of joy rolled down her porcelain cheeks. Swiftly, he strode across the room and held her to his chest. Unable to utter a single word, she continued to stare at him, clutching him as though he might suddenly turn to dust and crumble away.

"Are you real?" she whispered, hoping with all her heart that it was true. He regarded her with his electrifying blue eyes, stroked a tendril of hair away from her face and said –

"HERMIONE! WAKE UP"

My eyes jerked open. Someone was poking me repeatedly in the forehead. I looked up with every intention of decapitating the poker, and was treated to a lovely sight up Ron's nose.

"Are you awake?" he asked tentatively, giving me an extra poke for good measure.

I growled in the affirmative, instinctively pulling the duvet closer to me as Ron stood by my bed, staring. God, his hair was so bright in the morning sun that it hurt to look at. I groaned, rolling over and cramming my head under the pillow, hoping that he would take that as a hint that I wasn't up for conversation.

Oh, but didn't you know? Ron isn't very good with hints.

"You have to get up, Hermione."

I sighed loudly. "And why," I muttered, pronouncing each word carefully as my mouth was rammed into my mattress, "Would I want to do that?"

"Because Harry's here," he said simply, and with that, he left me to it.

Well. That made things a tiny bit different. I attempted to drag myself into a sitting position, but my muscles hadn't fully woken up and I only succeeded in falling out of bed with a thump that probably shook the whole house. Which isn't the best of things to happen when you're in a house that looks like it could fall over if an ant sneezed near it.

Seeing as I was already on the floor, I shrugged and started rolling in the direction of my wardrobe. This seemed like a good plan right up until I collided painfully with the wall, at which point I decided that maybe it would be a better idea to go the conventional route and walk. Ron returned as I lay in crumpled heap, nursing the top of my head.

"What the hell are you doing?" he said all quizzically, and although I could hardly see him through my boisterous tangle of frizz (i.e. my hair) I knew exactly what expression he would have on his face: the quietly bewildered one. The one that always reminds me faintly of a red-headed puppy.

"Imitating a sausage," I said sarcastically, provoking a slightly perplexed snigger from him.

"You're mental, you are," he said, sounding almost affectionate, and I raised myself to my knees, pushing my stupid hair out of the way. He was standing in the doorway, an amused grin tugging at his mouth, eyes sparkling in his laughter…or was that just the sun reflecting in them? I didn't know. Ignoring the faint blush that crept steadily up into my cheeks, I stood up and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Only as mental as you are," I countered firmly, and he chuckled again as I crossed the room to my suitcase, where I began rummaging around for some clothes.

"Hey, Hermione…"

I looked up. He held my gaze for one long moment, and my heart sped up slightly as I knelt there, staring into his eyes. Was this a 'moment'? Could it be? In the dim morning light his eyes were such a vivid blue, bordered by that scattering of freckles and floppy red hair…

"…hurry the hell up, I want to see Harry," he said eventually, and with that he slammed the door loudly and I heard his footsteps plodding heavily away downstairs.

Well THAT was romantic.

I sat there, gazing blankly at the place where he had been, the bang of the door still reverberating in my ears. Then I sighed angrily and continued with tearing through my clothes.

0o0

It was wonderful seeing Harry again. Ron found it necessary to greet him with a loud warrior cry and violent smack to the head – I have no idea why. Must be a boy thing. Or perhaps just a Ron-thing. Can you imagine what would happen if I went around welcoming people like that? I can see the scene already…

Me, walking into dormitory: Lavender! Parvati! I didn't know you were here already! Come here so I can punch you hard in the head and let you know how much I've missed you!

Harry seemed OK in general, not great perhaps, but OK. Which is more than can be expected, really, considering his Godfather died two months ago. He looked a bit on the thin side. I can imagine him all too easily in his house with his relatives, refusing meals and locking himself in his room. Thank God Dumbledore got him out early, is all I can say.

He also told us some news. Regarding him and Voldemort and the wild rumours the Prophet has been spouting. I was telling Ron the other day (though doubtless he probably doesn't remember) that I thought there may well be some truth in what that ridiculous paper is saying for once, and it seems I was right. Harry's destined to kill Voldemort. He really is The Chosen One.

We had one of those silences – you know – the ones that can only follow a dramatic, life-changing sentence. Ron was just sitting there with a bit of toast hanging down his chin, his eyes wide. Harry's head was bowed, and he determinedly wasn't meeting our eyes. Luckily, I broke the silence with an incredibly loud bang and rush of purple smoke.

Bloody Fred and George.

I'd quite forgotten about the telescope I'd idly fished from a box earlier, and I must have squeezed it or something. Obviously the telescope didn't much approve of being squeezed, because it socked me one right in the eye.

Ron found it very funny. I could tell by the way his lips quivered up and down.

I didn't find it funny. He could probably tell by the way my eyebrows plunged down.

Harry then casually slipped in a mention that our OWL results were due that day.

I can't really remember much of what was said after that, because that was when I started panicking, big time.

All in all, not the best start to the day.

0o0

As predicted, it truly wasn't turning out to be the best of days.

I clenched a fistful of my hair, squeezed it hard, and took three deep breaths. Then I turned back to the woman who had been ignoring me for the past ten minutes.

"Excuse me?"

Hallelujah, praise the Lord, she looked around. Admittedly, she fixed me with the snottiest glare that was known to man (or woman) kind, as though I was some kind of ignorant underling with the gall to speak to a superior, but at least she acknowledged me. Well, two could play at that game. Sticking my nose in the air and raising myself to my tallest, I pushed my ingredients across the counter.

"I would like to buy these, please," I said, doing my very best to impersonate my mother, who is, if you hadn't gathered, the Queen of Snottiness. "If you don't mind."

The woman snorted through her long, white nose, eyeing my chosen ingredients as though I'd dumped a package of dog poo before her. "Two galleons, three sickles," she said curtly. She didn't offer me a bag.

I exited the apothercary with my goods under my arm and a foul temper to match. Harry and Ron were waiting by the door, talking amicably about Quidditch. Honestly, is that all boys talk about? I didn't say a word to them – just strode straight past and started making my way up Diagon Alley without them. They didn't even notice my mood, just trailed along behind with Hagrid, arguing about whether the Cuddly Cannons (or whatever their name is) are a good team or not. Stupid boys.

My heart rose slightly as we entered the cool, dimly lit shop of Eeylops, where bleary hooting was the only noise breaking the muffled silence. Not because I'm particularly fanatical about birds or anything (though I am rather fond of Hedwig, it has to be said) it was just that the sight of all those owls reminded me of my OWL results. All O's, and one E, which I am not disappointed with, as Ron implied earlier. Just slightly…annoyed. I mean, it would so much less of a bother to say "I achieved eleven O's" wouldn't it? Instead of "ten O's and one E." Straight Os would sound so much more impressive.

Nonetheless, I am still really happy with my results. I took my turn at waiting by the doorway as Harry and Ron bought packets of owl treats. The curvy woman behind the counter was so blatantly flirting with them. It was quite sickening to watch. I mean, for goodness sake, she looked about twenty-three, and she's batting her false eyelashes at a couple of sixteen year olds? Not that either of them were complaining. Ron especially lapped it up – his face nearly exploded with all the blood rushing to it when she said, all coyly: "So what's a couple of 'andsome men like yourselves doing down Diagon Alley?"

"Shopping," replied Ron wittily.

"Shopping for your owl I see." She smirked as she tugged a plastic bag up from under the till. "I always try to guess what sort of owl a person owns when they come in 'ere. Now you…" she trailed her eyes up and down Ron, like he was a piece of meat passing her inspection. My wand arm twitched toward my pocket before I could stop it. "…I'd imagine you own an eagle owl…strong, handsome, swift…am I right?"

Harry's face contorted as he clearly struggled to hold back explosive laughter. Ron's neck went red, but – and you won't believe this – he actually leant casually on the counter, cocked his head toward her, and said, "And I'd imagine you own a snowy owl…beautiful, swift…er, big…"

I don't know what made me do it. It was actually amusing in a way, watching Ron humiliate himself as he attempted to chat up an older woman, but even though I was telling myself that, my subconscious clearly begged to differ. I don't quite know how, but as the woman held out his change, and Ron reached out to take it with what he clearly thought was a devastating grin, my wand appeared in my hand, and I muttered a burning hex under my breath, aiming directly at the coins.

Ron gave a piercing yelp, flinging the coins away from him so that they bounced, striking the cages and making several owls shriek in alarm. The woman looked startled.

"They hurt me!" Ron whimpered pathetically, holding his palm in one hand, his face flaming red. "They were hot!"

I felt Harry's eyes on me as I tried to tuck my wand discreetly out of sight. I deliberately didn't look at him as I helped Ron gather up his money and waited for Harry to purchase his own owl treats.

"I'm telling you, they were burning hot!" Ron was continuing to say plaintively, as we exited the shop, the woman very pointedly not saying goodbye. I patted his arm sympathetically.

"They've probably been sitting in the sun, Ron. Don't worry about it."

Yes, alright, I know it was slightly mean. But I really couldn't let him embarrass himself with those crap chat-up lines any longer. It was all for his own good.

0o0

Hey this is Mooncheese here, a.k.a. Hermione!

Thatnks very much to Victoria Lily (we are honored to be blessed with the prescence of a HHr shipper ) and also Windrider. Your reviews made our day! (and also made our hearts smile)

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