Chapter Eight: Letters

Everything seemed a little dimmer, a little grayer, a little less interesting as Harry Plodded down the stairs.

"Good morning Harry!" Since when had Ron been a morning person? Well, on any other day but Christmas. But the animated denied all logic as he pounced on his best friend. "Breakfast smells great! I haven't slept so well in days."

"Good. How's Hermione?" Harry asked, looking back at the door from which Ron had appeared.

"She's still sleeping; she was really tired after last night." Ron continued to babble on and on as they walked down to the kitchen.

"What will you do when your mother isn't around any more to make you breakfast?" Harry asked, watching Mrs. Weasley as she prepared large servings of eggs, bacon, and pancakes.

Ron simply rolled his eyes and dug into a plate piled high. "Good morning Ginny."

Harry winced ever so slightly as Ron smiled at someone behind him.

"Ron, Harry." Harry felt Ginny's hand brush against his shoulder ever so briefly before she sat down. "I got an owl last night; I have to apperate to the Ministry shortly."

The orange juice caught in Harry's throat, nearly sending juice over the entire table; Ginny sent him a surprised glance.

"It's a little sudden isn't it?" Harry shrugged, defensive.

"The department of mysteries can be a little sporadic." Ginny explained, and Harry felt the blood rush to his face at her demeaning undertones.

"Don't get hurt." As Ginny rose Mrs. Weasley engulfed her in a hug. "I never imagined my only little girl, going off to work at such a place."

"See you later Harry." Ginny offered him the first near genuine smile since… Last night. Going to show her out, they exchanged a somewhat awkward embrace; then she was gone.

Turning back to the hall he saw Ron's back as he went up stairs again, a tray of food in hand for Hermione.

"Very very tricky this one." Frederick was fairly dancing around the portrait in delight as Mrs. Black glared austerely down at him. "I've not seen anything so complicated in years."

"Blood traitors and mudbloods! Get out of my house with your putrid smells!" Mrs. Black began screaming again as Frederick began to poke his wand into the dark recesses behind her frame.

"So you can get rid of her?" Harry's voice, swelled with hope, was barely audible over the portraits screams of indignation.

"I'll have to look through some of my books, but I am confident in a positive conclusion." Frederick bellowed over the racket, displaying one of his sparkly smiles.

As Harry lead him back to the door, handing over twenty-five gallons. Harry remembered another person with such a smile; he was sitting in a mental institution.

"I'll be back tomorrow."

Harry offered the man a nervous smile and closed the door quickly behind him.

"What's wrong Harry?" Harry spun around to face Hermione.

"Nothing. That was just Dean's Uncle Frederick. He thinks he can get rid of her." Harry replied, gesturing to the grumbling portrait.

"If you say so." Hermione shrugging; for all she looked tired and pale, she looked sorry for him.

"I really am okay." Harry snapped back. Her sympathy was nothing but intrusive and irritating. "How are you feeling?"

"Better every day."

"Still think you're up for another year of school?"

"After what we've been through, it'll be easy." Hermione laughed.

"Hermione, the mail just arrived!" Ron was bounding down the stairs, a hand waving several scrolls. "Our letters just got here!" Reaching the entranceway, Ron wrapped his arms around Hermione without a second thought.

Harry's heart ached.

A/N

Sorry for the short chapter, that took so long.

I've already started the next chapter and there is Luna, so never fear!