So, um, I do believe this will be the 2nd last chapter, but I haven't written the last, so I don't know. However, I am planning a SORT OF sequel, but it will be about Lavender, because I love and adore her. But it will, like, pick up where this story takes off.
Anyway, voila, enjoy, and oh- I don't have anything against you if you read Sophie Kinsella, I just don't think it counts as literature. Only my opinion though. xxooxx
So they spent the day apart. Again. Only they decided to employ their fiercest weapons.
For Hermione, what else would it be but a book? Not a text book, a book of facts, nor indeed a book of magic. A novel. Worse than that. A Muggle novel. Worse than that. A Sophie Kinsella.
It was not a book that, under normal circumstances she would have been caught dead reading. That was just her objective though. She was making sure Ron knew these were not normal circumstances, and that should he approach, forgiveness would not be so easily come by.
Ron's chosen form of attack was…cheerfulness. Pretending nothing had happened. He decided to go into town. The only thing was, Neville had gone home and Luna had said she would probably not be coming out without him, so Harry and Ginny thought that they would go for a romantic picnic together in the hills. So he went alone and once out of sight of everyone, became very sullen indeed. He wandered around the shops, spoke to the newsagent girl that Fred and George had been so smitten with a few years before, tried on a pair of jeans, bought a bag of fudge with his small amount of Muggle money. He did not however, go to the barber. He sat on a bench in the square and ate his Scottish tablet, watching the people.
Suddenly he thought he recognised someone. A girl, with waist length dirty blonde hair. But no, it couldn't be, because she was arm in arm with a tall black boy, no, surely not.
He went home.
And there she was, sitting in an armchair with a book. Typical. Her hair was pulled back into a French plait. He stared at the complex pattern it made for a moment. Then he approached.
"Hey 'Mione." he said. "What you reading?"
No response. Great. She must be angry, if she can't talk about her book. Then he caught sight of the cover. Shopaholic Abroad.
Oh. Dear.
"D'you want some fudge? I think I still have some coconut ice in the bottom…yup. Or chocolate. Sorry I ate all the tablet. I know it's your favourite. But there's still vanilla."
She didn't move.
"So you just been reading all day? You should have come into town. I would have enjoyed your company."
Dammit! Not even a twitch.
"I didn't go to the barber after all. Mum'll kill me eh?"
No answer.
"You'll never guess who I saw in the village. Luna and Dean! All wrapped up in each other, can you believe it? I wonder if she's painted him on her ceiling?"
No reaction to this piece of news.
He sighed and said. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I really am. I don't know what happened this morning. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper. I don't know why I did. And I'm sorry. Truly am. I hate it when we fight now. I can't stand it in fact. Do you forgive me?"
She looked up. "I can't believe it."
"What?" he asked looking confused.
She looked at him grinning. "Luna and Dean! That's so great! Oh wow!"
"Did you just hear what I said?"
"Hm? No sorry, I was finishing my paragraph. What did you say?"
He sighed. "I love you." he summarized lamely. "And I hate it when we fight."
"Oh, they'll be so cute together!" she squeaked. Then she became more serious. She put the book down and knelt down beside him like she had the night before and took his hands. "I hate it too Ron. Honest to God I hate it. And I love you more than anyone. I couldn't survive without you. You're my big toe."
He looked into her eyes. "And you're my knee."
She stared at him for a moment, then laughed at the ridiculousness of the joke. He laughed as well, and his shaking shoulders combined with the angle his arms were at to reach Hermione's hands made him fall off the chair, and they laughed even more at that. They laughed, happy for Luna to have found Dean, and laughed more when they thought of what Dean had got himself into. They laughed for at that exact moment, Harry and Ginny appeared. They laughed at their confusion. They laughed because they had made up, and laughed over the argument.
And finally, they laughed simply because it felt good to laugh.