Well. This was just going wonderfully.
I growled in irritation as Ron head butted me for the third time in a minute. Really, cramming three adolescents under a one-man cloak whilst walking through one of the darkest streets in England really isn't as easy as it sounds. Oh wait. It really doesn't sound easy at all.
"Sorry," muttered Ron gruffly, grinding his foot into my heel for good measure.
"That's OK," I hissed back through gritted teeth, trying and failing to disguise my irritation. I don't know why I bothered – I don't think he realised I actually said anything, seeing as my voice was muffled by the back of Harry's neck. Which, all things considered, was rather sweaty and generally an unpleasant thing to be muffled by. Urgh.
So there I was, sandwiched between my two best friends, one of who was slowly suffocating me and the other tripping over and poking and generally causing me all round discomfort.
I sucked in a breath as Ron slipped a hand round my waist and brought me sharply to a halt. My forehead missed colliding with Harry's back by millimetres, and the next moment Ron's mouth was by my ear, breath tickling my neck.
"What?" I tried to snap, but his other hand leapt up to cover my mouth. Oh. Yum. Sweaty palms.
"Stand still," he muttered, and out the corner of my eye I saw an old warlock walk by, so close I could actually see a hair protruding from a particularly large chin wart. We all stood, frozen in a bizarre still image until he was well out of earshot. Finally, Ron's hand slipped away from my mouth, and I let out a breath I wasn't aware I had been holding.
"That was close," I clichéd ridiculously, but I still didn't move. Ron's other hand hadn't left my waist.
"Yeah," he agreed softly, voice buzzing into my hair, then walloped his head into the back of mine in an overenthusiastic nod. I stifled a small shriek of pain as my already much abused head started to throb angrily.
"Sorry," he grunted as we all continued up the street.
Does he have a single un-clumsy bone in his body! "Shut up, Ron," I snapped, and proceeded to ignore him for the rest of the journey.
Draco Malfoy's radioactive blonde head bobbed in and out of my vision as I tried to peer around Harry's shoulder in a lame attempt at getting a sense of where we were. However, as he seems to have grown about a metre over the holidays I really didn't get anywhere, and the next thing I knew Harry had ground to a halt outside a rather charming little shop with bloodied rags and human bones littering the window display.
Ah, there was Malfoy, looking completely comfortable with said assorted delights surrounding him.
"He's in there," I whispered, not daring to take my eyes off him in case he disappeared again. Malfoy was conversing with the oily little man behind the counter, and from the looks of the expression on Oily's face, they were not having a pleasant chat about the weather.
Unfortunately, seeing as there was a rather large, irritating door between us and him, we couldn't hear a word of their conversation.
How utterly typical.
"If only we could hear what they're saying!" I hissed in frustration, voicing what I'm pretty sure all three of us were thinking. Well, it is horribly annoying, isn't it? We get dragged all the way into Knockturn Alley under a too-small, sweaty Invisibility Cloak, getting all hot and bothered in the process, only to stand out here in the cold and press our noses at the shop window in vain.
However, much to my surprise, Ron came up trumps for once. He started fumbling excitedly with his boxes (oh, please, just ignore the innuendos there) and suddenly thrust a bunch of fleshy coloured string in front of my eyes. I squinted a bit. I recognised that stringy stuff…
"Extendable Ears, look!"
When did I ever say he was clumsy?
"Fantastic!" I burst out happily, resisting the urge to fling my arms around his neck in my celebration. Ron looked startled. "Oh, I hope the door isn't Imperturbable…" That really would be the icing on the cake, wouldn't it?
Fortunately for us, it wasn't, and within seconds we had tuned into Radio Evil, with DJ's Malfoy and Oily presenting the show.
I won't go into detail, but this is my version of their conversation:
MALFOY: You know how to fix it, yes?
OILY: (Dither dither)
MALFOY: (Threaten threaten)
OILY: (Cower cower)
MALFOY: (Smug smug)
OILY: (Bow)
MALFOY: (Struts out shop)
While Ron and Harry promptly fell into an intense whispered discussion, musing over what exactly Malfoy needed fixing, I felt the beginnings of an idea stir up inside me. Looking through the glass, I could see Oily, still hunched over slightly from the bow. His face was rather crumpled, like he was about to cry.
'Pushover' was the word that popped into my head.
"You two stay here," I muttered, ducking under the Invisibility Cloak and striding into the shop before they barely had time to realise what was going on.
Only to stride out again three minutes later, with a slammed door and incensed Oily at my back.
Pushover, my foot.
I retreated to the safety of the Invisibility cloak and warmth of Ron's back, and sighed angrily to myself. I had been so damn obvious, I knew it, if only I'd –
"Ah well," Ron's voice came as we all started trooping up toward Diagon Alley again. "Worth a try, but you WERE a bit obvious…"
Who the hell does he think he is? James Bond?
"Well, next time you can show me how it's done, Master of Mystery," I snapped scathingly.
We bickered all the way up the street, which actually left me feeling quite cheerful by the time we got back to the twins' shop. My arguments with Ron can be so daft they often end up going round in circles, and I almost always end up laughing at myself. I feel rather sorry for Harry sometimes. I don't know how he puts up with us.
The rest of the week passed by in a blur, filled with much of Harry's speculation of 'Could Malfoy be a Death Eater?' Ron doing the usual nothing, and me catching up on the latest copy of the Ancient Runes textbook; there was a rather fascinating idea regarding the re-translation of an Icelandic rune that could well tell of a Wizarding civilisation in Britain prior to the era of Merlin… um, anyway, where was I? Oh, the last week.
Harry got rather frustrated with Ron and I, actually, because neither of us really took his Malfoy Theories seriously. Well, I did. But the book was more interesting and, frankly, more realistic to read, and I preferred it on the whole to listening to Harry. Yes, he was making sense, but I rather thought (to myself, of course) that Harry was simply reading too deeply into it. For the first time in his life, Ron actually made a joke that could well have been the actual truth:
"Maybe Malfoy broke his Hand of Glory."
Harry didn't find it at all funny.
0o0
Before I knew it, September the first was upon us.
We all stood outside, the early autumn breeze feeling wonderfully cool at the back of my neck. I'd somehow wrested my untameable hair into a bun that morning, yet even with liberal amounts of hairspray (that I'd pilfered from my mum's room back home) curls were already slipping out to dangle most irritatingly in my eyes. I sighed, brushing them away as I turned to survey everyone critically. Hedwig, Crookshanks, Pigwidgeon and Arnold (don't ask) were all safely enclosed in carry cases. Everyone had a suitcase near at hand, and what's more, everyone was dressed like they hadn't done it in a tearing rush (i.e: glasses and ties askew, shirts on backwards and inside out…you get the idea) which was what I had always been used to in previous mad dashes to Platform 9 & ¾. Now we were all standing in silence, awaiting the Ministry cars that would transport us safely and without further ado, to Kings Cross.
You would expect me to feel relieved, happy even, that everything was going so smoothly.
I didn't. It felt…well, for want of a better word, it felt weird.
I turned my head to peer up the path, then started slightly as my eyes smacked (not literally, mind you) straight into Ron's. His eyes widened as I clocked his staring, then snapped his head away instantly to look back at the house like it had just yelled something insulting at him.
Whoa…just a second there.
Had he been staring at me?
A hot blush started up in my cheeks, and I bit my lip to prevent a smile. My mind started going haywire – if he had been staring at me, then, good Lord, surely that meant –
"Au revoir, 'Arry!"
Oh.
Fleur.
The smile slid from my face like Stinksap as that, that girl appeared from behind me, swooping down on Harry and kissing him on each cheek. Ron looked around at once, and started to hurry forward with a look of such sickening hope on his face that I felt inexplicable tears start up in my eyes. I shook my head furiously, angry at myself. For God's sake, why was I crying? Of course he hadn't been looking at me. I had been stupid to think such a thing. Why would he, when there were beautiful, gorgeous, French girls like Fleur -
There was a thump on the dirt before me. I whipped my head around. Ron lay sprawling at my feet, while Ginny stood triumphantly behind him, her foot stuck out. She gave me a broad wink as I stared at her.
Sometimes, every once in a while, I can really see the resemblance between her and the twins. I felt a tiny grin crack out on my face as Ron scrambled, red faced and dirt splattered, into the car. Fleur raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at his back, kissed Harry once more for good measure, then floated away back off to the house. Suppressing an even broader smirk, I picked up my suitcase and began lugging it into the car.
0o0
Well, here's another nice big dollop of Hermione for your enjoyment! Sorry about the long wait. If you read and enjoyed, please review!
If you read and didn't enjoy - review anyway! I take constructive criticism very seriously, and it will improve my writing.
If you read and absolutely hated it with all your heart and mind - feel free to flame. (I can't promise I'll take the flames seriously, though. But they will give me something to laugh at, so yeah. Flame! Go on! Be happy!)
I think that's all.
Much love and peace and encouraging-nudges-toward-the-review-button...
Kelsey xxxxxxxxxxxxx