Despite the stifling August heat visible in the warps on the pavement she could see out of the window, a chill had settled over her. She was in one of the upstairs bedrooms at Grimmauld place (grimy place she'd heard the twins call it), the room she found the least ostentatious. A queen size four poster sat in the middle, and no matter how many of Molly's linen-fix spells she cast she was certain she could still see faint puffs of dust emerge when she sat on it, contributing to the soft glimmers floating through the air.
She'd gotten over her distaste for the bed and was sprawled on it, staring at the cracked ceiling paint. The wall paper was a peeling, faded, grey, with patterns of ivy circling the ceilings. Her and the Weasley children had claimed the room, unofficially, because of the small sitting area, a couch and a matching tartan chair. They could discuss the latest snippets of information they'd overheard (or pried) out of an order member, or play exploding snap without admonishment.
She didn't think it was possible to be so sick of a place. She'd read, reread, and annotated her textbooks.
Last week Ginny had slipped her a novel before bed. It was one of Molly's wizarding romances. She'd been scandalized at first, but Ginny was having none of it. Hip cocked, eyebrow raised, she'd said "Hermione, come off it. If I have to look at a textbook one more time before September 1st I'm writing Charlie to see if they'll take me on the reservation." Then, a sly look had overtaken her face "Maybe you'll learn a thing or two about handling a wand".
She dodged out the door before the pillow Hermione had flung could make contact, it thumped against the door amid a cloud of dust and plopped to the floor. Hermione had shook her head at Ginny's antics, a blush fading from her cheeks as she set the book down on a nearby table.
Today, boredom and curiosity were winning the battle. Ginny was napping, the twins were plotting, and Ron, well, the last she'd seen of him he'd been roped into something involving the fireplaces and a large bucket of Self Scouring Suds.
It was the kind of boredom that pulled at you, made you stand up and sit back down; with a desire for purpose, but nothing to do.
Normally, she preferred non fiction. The distinct satisfaction of feeling your mind expand, losing yourself in the connections and fresh ways of seeing something. But Ginny had a point. Even for Hermione, three readings of the same few books in a month got tedious (maybe the last one was more of a skim). She turned her head to lay her cheek on a musty pillow cover, considering the novel she'd tossed on the bedside table earlier in the week. The cover had given her pause, she'd never seen dress robes worn quite like that. Open at the front, the tanned, toned chest of a wizard bare for the audience as he prowled around the dark forrest he'd been set in, a recurring loop playing on the front cover of a damsel in a red (uncomfortable looking, Hermione decided) gown, sword in hand, running away from the wizard as he advanced wand out. She wondered if the woman was a muggle. Interesting. She made a mental note to ask Ginny how frequently Muggle/Wizard romances played out in Wizarding popular culture. Some, she guessed, with the prevalence of half-bloods... but historically? She hadn't come across much mention of it. But then, this wasn't her forte.
You win Ginny she thought, laughing to herself and reaching over to pick up the book. It's well-worn spine was a recommendation in itself. It would be good to forget, she thought, just for a few hours, the mounting tension present in her daily life, cooped up, unable to talk openly with the Weasleys, or with Harry at all.
She settled against some stacked pillows and opened the well worn book.
Forty-five harrowing minutes later she slammed the offending book back down on the duvet cover she'd been resting on. Looking down, the nails on her left hand were chewed to the quick. She felt like she had just taken an exam where half of the questions were in french.
What in merlin's name was that girl thinking?? Hermione asked herself. She'd just read the first quarter or so of the romance, and endured a muggle girl making the worst possible decisions available. Hermione would have liked to reach right into the pages and slapped her. It has started off ok, the flowery, yet engaging writing style captivating her right away. But as she was drawn into the tale of Eugenie, a muggle young woman who became roped into the local baron's web of intrigue, including finding out he was a wizard (!), she made poor choice after poor choice. Running away from her parents who suggested it unwise for her to become involved with an older man so young, and without a chaperone, and then becoming reliant on the Baron's charity to survive. Hermione scoffed at the thought of ever relying on anyone, especially romantic partner like that But. There were some other parts to the book... well Hermione had simply never read such a thing. Of course she'd heard Lavender and Parvati giggling about the short stories section of Witch Weekly, but had never worked up the nerve, or interest, to ask to borrow it.
She considered her own (limited) romantic history. There was Viktor, of course, and the handful of kisses they'd shared in the gardens during the ball, but they seemed exceptionally tame compared to the electrifying passion Eugenie experienced for the Baron. Even just kissing in the novel seemed significant, and much more intimate than Hermione remembered. Kissing Viktor has been pleasant, perhaps even thrilling, but nothing more. It evoked no deeper feelings for her. She frowned, brow furrowed. It wasn't her was it? Maybe she just wasn't capable of passion; of love. God knows she'd been teased for being uptight, boring, a stickler for rules. Maybe that was why at 15 (16 in a few weeks) her romantic history was so minimal.
She'd had crushes before of course, the butterfly flutter feeling when she'd caught Dean Thomas' eye in second year, or, as horrifying as it was to think of now, she'd thought she might have had a crush on Harry first year. She'd quickly realized she just appreciated how nice he'd been to her, something of a rarity for a nerdy, gawky girl like herself at that time. But she'd never been in love, that was for sure. She certainly couldn't relate the all encompassing feelings described in the novel.
Hermione stepped onto the floor, all at once bored again, antsy from the drama in the book, and looking for something else to do to keep her mind of the conflict that arose in it.
Just as she was about to open the door, it violently swung opened just enough to let in a streak of red hair, who quickly silently shut the door, and turned to Hermione with a finger on his lips. Ron. and considerably dirtier than the last time she saw him. There was dirt smeared across the bridge of his nose and along his forehead, and his worn Cannons long sleeve was splattered with water and grime.
"Please 'Mione, I need you to cover for me" He looked at her beseechingly, "I literally can't feel my fingers and I reckon she's actually gonna serve dinner on the mantels based on how many times she's made me scrub them."
His eyes lit upon the bed, and he took two steps forward before collapsing dramatically on it, face first.
Hermione was pretty sure her heart was going to beat out of her chest from the shock of him bursting in. she'd been standing as if stunned, but at once sprung forward and slapped him on one freckled arm.
"Ronald! You could have given me a heart attack the way you burst in here! You almost hit me with the door! Wha-"
"Shhhhhhhgh!" He cut her off in a muffled whisper "She's going to hear you and come find me"
Hermione glanced to the door and hastily lowered her voice to a whisper "Would it have killed you to knock!?"
He twisted his head around so his cheek was resting on the bed and looked at her
"Honestly Mione it might have, knuckles are rubbed raw, plus mum can hone in on any noise, she's mental" He grinned at her, blue eyes twinkling. "She told me she didn't want anyone bothering you"
Hermione relented, disapproval quickly giving way to complicity. "Fine, I'll stay in here for 20 more minutes and I won't say a peep to your mother."
She sat on the edge of the bed beside him "honestly I'm bored out of my mind up here, I was about to go down and see if there was anything to help with"
Ron snorted, "Trust me, you do not want to to help with what's going on down there, I'm pretty sure the scrubbing would be the end of you"
"It would not, I grew up a muggle, I can scrub"
Ron rolled on to his back and looked up at her "Not how Mum does it... what've you been doing up here all day anyways?" He glanced around curiously and noticed her novel. He turned to look at her, one eyebrow quirked before reaching for it
Hermione quickly leaned over and caught his arm before he could get to it "Oh that's one of your Mum's books Ginny leant to me, I was going stir crazy without anything new to read"
Ron smirked. "Yeah I recognize it from her stash. Didn't reckon you were the type 'Mione" He picked it up and read the synopsis, grinning "Muggle girl wanders into dark world, learns about love, lust" At that he raised his eyebrows teasingly at her "And Magic."
She could feel a scarlet blush seeping into her cheeks "I was curious about wizarding fiction. Besides. It's non of your business what I'm reading for fun"
At this Ron chuckled, "Hey now I'm not judging you, it sure looks a lot more fun than your normal reads" He tossed it back down on the bed. With an expression reminiscent of the twins he asked "Learn anything useful?"
Hermione gasped in scandalized outrage and whacked him with a nearby throw pillow. "Ronald!"
"Relax 'Mione I mean about our books, nothing dirty!" He said, hands up in surrender.
She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, not trusting him not to make fun of her for the romance. "Well, yes, the portrayal of muggles was certainly interesting, as was the historical context of secrecy. I would love to compare it to a more recent publication and see if attitudes towards muggles have shifted at all in popular culture... the plot I found to be... frustrating."
"Frustrating? Why?"
She began to warm up to the questions. Harry, Ron, or any of her friends for that matter, tended to be reluctant to talk books with her, knowing the detail she could go into. "Eugenie, that's the main character muggle girl, makes every wrong choice she could possibly make. She moves in with some rich man she hardly knows just because he's, er, interesting, and she's... attracted to him." Hermione omitted the fact the Baron seduced her almost instantly, "I just can't imagine losing myself to someone I hardly know like that"
"I dunno 'mione, I've seen my brothers do some pretty crazy things over girls, I once saw Bill in an actual fist fight, no magic, over some silly bint he caught with another bloke"
She shook her head "Boys."
"You're best friends are boys" He retorted. "Besides, you saw Gin for her first 3 years, she couldn't even talk to Harry. It's not just boys" Then he shrugged. "Mum always says love makes people do crazy things. Apparently dad didn't eat for two full days before he asked her out for the first time and nearly fainted when she said yes"
Hermione snorted out a laugh, and then Ron joined her, almost instantly they were laughing together
"Imagine!" Hermione gasped out, which set the both of them laughing even harder, imagining a poor, nervous Arthur approaching Molly, who was still a fearsome character.
"Ronald! Are you up there?" A ringing voice from the bottom of the stairs instantly silenced them, a bolt of anxiety striking through Hermione. Quiet followed for a few moments, before they heard footsteps retreating down the stairs. Molly. They hadn't heard her over their laughter, luckily it seemed she hadn't heard them either. Hermione glanced over at Ron, who looked several shades paler. The second they made eye contact he began to chuckle a little, and soon she was too, elation at getting away with the near-miss fuelling them.
As their laughter faded, Hermione dropped onto her back beside Ron, her feet still touching the floor. She turned her head so their faces were lined up. The lighthearted mood evaporated from the room. She felt an unfamiliar flutter in her chest, and felt heat rising in her face after only a few moments of eye contact. She looked back at the ceiling and flailed for a few moments in her mind, trying to think of a topic to divert from the thick atmosphere her face being only inches away from his had created. He beat her to it.
"Are you going to keep going?" He asked the side of her face.
She turned back to him, puzzled. "What?"
"The book, are you gonna finish it?" He watched her, his blue eyes sincere with curiosity.
"Erm, yeah, I suppose. It's not like we've got much else to do is it?" She giggled a little, nervously, but didn't break eye contact. This feeling with Ron was new, exactly, but it had certainly intensified over the past few weeks, the two of them spending so much time together without Harry. It felt natural, so natural, and she'd caught herself smiling over nothing but his easy grin lately.
She broke their charges eye contact and looked back at the ceiling, feigning thought about the question. "Plus, I want to know what happens, if it turns out alright for her in the end"
Ron shifted onto his back so they were laying shoulder to shoulder and nodded decisively.
"That's my Hermione, always making sure it turns out ok"
Hermione froze for a second, staring up at the ceiling. Suddenly she understood how Arthur felt before he fainted asked out Molly. Was it even possible to be dizzy laying down?
"Your Hermione?" She was going for casual and teasing. It came a good deal more high pitched.
Ron, she could tell, was scrambling. His ears reminded her of a muggle fire truck and the rest of his face wasn't face behind
"Erm, y'know like 'my best friend Hermione', nothing like that, you're my friend! I don't -"
His ramble was cut off by a sharp rap on the door, they both sprang off the bed guiltily, as if they'd been caught doing something far worse than talking side by side
"Mum says dinner is ready and if you aren't down in 2 minutes she's coming up!" Ginny called through the door.
Hermione got to the door first and pulled it open, coming face to face with her nonplussed friend, Ron darted out from behind her and started down the stairs, looking back he said "Right, well, i've got to wash up, see you two at dinner" He turned and hurried down the stairs.
Ginny turned and raised an appraising eyebrow at a flustered Hermione.
"What were you doing up here?"
"Nothing!" Hermione replied, too defensively. Ginny squinted at her suspiciously, not believing it but biding her time to press Hermione further.
"Sure you weren't. Anyway dinner is Mum famous stew, we'd better go if we want there to be anything left." With a toss of her hair she turned and clattered down the stairs, leaving Hermione to catch up, the scent of roasted vegetables wafting up the stairs towards her.
