"Oh, I forgot how beautiful the countryside is this time of year!"
Laurel pressed her hand against the train's window, continuing to gawk.
"Eh," Ron shrugs. "Its just snow."
"I love snow," Laurel counters. "We have a lot in common."
Ron turns to Harry, crosses his eyes and sulks down in his seat.
Harry had to try not to laugh.
The two boys, along with Laurel and Hermione were on the Hogwarts Express, heading home for the holidays. Another four inches or so of snow came overnight, making everything sparkle without a footprint in sight. It was hard to believe that such a place existed, Harry thought. The busy streets of London were the exact opposite.
"Ah," Ron groans randomly, grabbing his hair. "I hope Mum got that letter."
"Pig left about a day ago," Harry says.
"Yes, but it is Pig," Hermione agrees with Ron. "He might have gotten himself lost in the snow."
"Oh, the poor thing," Laurel sighs.
"I sense…sarcasm," Ron says.
Laurel shrugs. "The little twit made Joel think there was a torture chamber in the janitor's closet."
"Sorry," Ron replies with no feeling. "I should have known his slow mind would replace owl with human."
"Shut it, Weasley."
Ron laughs. "Love can do crazy things to a person."
Harry opens his mouth to speak, but Laurel beats him.
"I wouldn't be talking, Ronald!"
Ron's ears turn pink, finally are of the hole he dug for himself.
"Okay, let's not start off on the wrong foot," Harry says. "Enough joking around."
Hermione was blushing, probably from feeling awkward. Laurel tapped her foot rapidly, staring Ron down, who tried to avert her gaze. The silence broke when the cabin door slid open. Malfoy stood in its frame, face appearing somewhat disappointed.
"Ah, I see," He nods. "There's only a bunch of scum in here."
"Not until you came in," Harry replies.
"Very smart, Potter," Malfoy says. "If only you were as quick as your wit when it came to saving your Mudblood girlfriend…"
Hermione doesn't say a word, but sits quietly, gazing down at her feet.
Both Harry and Ron stood up, ready to throw any punch possible. Malfoy simply closes the door casually, smiling mischievously. It fell silent and all you could hear was the train moving over the rails. Laurel sighs slightly, but the emotion behind it was indecipherable.
"I'm sorry."
"Hermione, why are you apologizing?" Harry questions.
"I'm…I'm just sorry," Hermione replies.
"Non of this is your fault, Hermione," Ron says.
"I said I'm sorry already!!" Hermione yells, quite angrily.
Harry and Ron sit back down and don't speak. Hermione pulls her cloak tighter around her and stares at the floor.
The rest of the ride was uneventful. At least they didn't argue anymore. The tension, however, still hung around. What type of tension it was didn't matter for it made them all uncomfortable, and that is never enjoyable. The fat witch that pushed the snack cart came at noon and they purchased some Cauldron Cakes and Chocolate Frogs, Licorice Wands and Every Flavor Beans. Candy always loosens the mood, even though it made diction suffer.
An hour later, a knock sounds from the door and Fred and George's faces appear in the window.
"Well, isn't it the leftovers," Fred says, coming into the compartment.
"Run out of entertainment elsewhere?" Harry asks.
"Yes, sort of," George nods.
"Anything else?" Ron wonders aloud.
"We're almost to King's Cross—"
"—And Dad said he'll have a company van for us."
"No, he didn't. We'll probably use the car—"
"—Which won't fit all of us."
"Unless we have one of you four spread across our laps—"
"—Like a little, cramped harem."
"We might even fan you!"
"No takers?"
"Maybe they'd rather ride in the trunk?" Fred asks his twin, who nods.
"Maybe you'd rather button it!" Ron says.
"Oh, we'll answer to that later," George replies. "There will be a snowball fight when we get home."
"That sounds like fun!" Laurel perks up unexpectedly.
"Join our team, young Lady, and make it a three-on-three?" Fred raises an eyebrow.
"Sure," Laurel says.
"Evil!"
"No far, she's got a good arm."
"Exactly. That's why we need her."
"Well, we got Harry, he's a Quidditch player."
"And we're not, Fred?"
"…I didn't mean to cause trouble."
"You're fine, young Lady."
"Hermione is the brains of our operation."
"Yeah, like that will help you."
"Excuse me?"
The intercom cuts through the gibberish. "We will be approaching King's Cross Station shortly. Please gather all your belongings and make sure to check the overhead racks."
The group grabs their luggage and within five minutes, the train arrives at Platform 9 ¾. Everyone aboard hustled out of the carts and got crammed into the hallway. It was a slow exit, and it was rather stuffy after a while. Parents greeted their children merrily with hugs and kisses. It was way too dramatic for a simple holiday return, and Mrs. Weasley was no exception.
"Oh, it's so good to see you, dears!" She cries.
She pulls her boys into her arms.
"Where's Ginny?"
"On a different car," Ron squeaks out in lack of breath.
"Harry! Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley releases her sons and takes hold of the next two.
"Hullo, Mrs. Weasley," Harry says.
"Thank you for letting us visit," Hermione adds.
"It's not a problem at all!" She replies. "I'm so glad to have you for Christmas."
Mrs. Weasley lets them go and sees Laurel.
"And you must be Laura!"
"Laurel," She corrects, holding out a hand. "It's nice to meet you."
"Oh, not a handshake," Mrs. Weasley shakes her head. "Come here."
She beckons her for a hug and Laurel goes reluctantly.
"Official initiation," Harry whispers to Ron.
"Thank you for having me over on such short notice."
"Think nothing of it! It's so nice to know that Ron is making new friends," Mrs. Weasley says. "Not that anything is wrong with Harry and Hermione. I love them like my own."
"Except for when those rumors were in Witch Weekly. Remember, Hermione?" Harry laughs under his breath.
"Ugh," Hermione hangs her head.
"Too bad Vicky couldn't read English," Ron growls.
"Oh, drop it Ron," Hermione snaps. "And don't call him Vicky."
Jealousy is never forgotten, Harry thinks to himself.
The large group made their way out to the car and the backseat surprisingly fit all of the children. It magically expanded just as the truck usually did when packing all of their enormous school luggage. Still cozy at shoulder to shoulder, the ride to the burrow seemed to last longer than the train ride back to London. Mrs. Weasley made small-talk. The boys would grunt an answer while Laurel gave elaborate responses as if she would be graded on them. She enjoyed it like a game, even if the only opponent was herself.
Hermione looked out the window almost the entire time. Sometimes her eyebrows would furrow or twitch as if she was thinking incredibly hard and still couldn't come up with an answer. Harry tried to reach across the twins to give her a pat on the knee, but Fred simply took his hand in a playful handshake.
Before long, the twins managed to get the entire company to participate in a rousing game of 20 questions. Of course, they ended up choosing things that didn't actually exist in either the muggle or wizard world. After a while, nobody even bothered to ask them a single question and they ended up playing with themselves (which may have been more annoying than everyone contributing).
The burrow finally appeared as if magic, or mostly because the kids were in such a daze they lost track of time and space. They all unloaded the car and brought their trunks up to the rooms. By then, everyone could already smell food being made down in the kitchen. In response, they congregated in the living area to wait. Laurel simply could not sit still. She bounced in her seat on the couch, looking up and down the walls, around corners and into every crook and cranny.
"Could you possibly calm down?" Ron asks, irritated and swaying slightly because of her bouncing and he sat next to her on the couch.
"Oh, I'm just so excited," She replies.
"For our snow battle?" Fred leans over.
George perks up from his position on the floor.
"Of course," Laurel stretches out a long as possible, intense look on her face.
George nods sinisterly. "After lunch."
All through the meal, a tension rose. Mostly between the Weasley boys and Laurel; Harry and Hermione ate casually. As soon as the plates were clear and Mrs. Weasley was thanked for the delicious food, everybody sprinted up to their rooms to drape themselves in warmer clothing. Scarves and mittens and coats came on. Once the armor was secure, all six rushed outdoors. Ginny, of course, wanted to play but decided after seeing Fred and George put rocks in their snowballs to sit and watch instead.
Laurel and the twins began with amazing force, most likely delivering bruises. The rocks hidden in the snowballs may have been the cause of that, but who would dare call them out at cheating? After a good fifteen minutes went by, the rules changed slightly. Laurel, Fred, and George wanted to make it more like a deadly capture the flag. One person would be the "flag", one a guard and the other a mobile infantry unit.
Each team chose a base. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on the side of the house, Hermione being the flag and Harry her guard. Ron did not want to be out in the field, for fear of being clobbered. He eventually gave in, however. He wiped his scarf around his face and made sure a snowball was in each hand before summoning all of his bravery and stepping out from behind their wall of security.
Hermione snickered.
"What?" Harry asks.
"They're all treating it like an actual war."
Harry shrugged. "I guess so."
Hermione sat down and sighed. Harry looked down at her and ended up sighing as well. He shook his head to himself and patted the top of her head a couple times, making her already curly hair poof even more.
"What? Am I your dog?" She laughs.
"No."
"You know," her voice began to choke up, "I'm not going to go away again. At least, not on my own volition…"
Harry was taken aback slightly, but the thought was truly in the corners of his mind.
"I didn't mean it that way, Hermione."
"I… I know you probably didn't," she stutters. "I just can't help but think you and Ron are going to baby me now, like I can't take care of myself. I mean, I'm not some fragile person."
"I know that Hermione," Harry sits down next to her. "You're very strong. I'm just glad you're back."
Hermione looked over at him, eyes narrowed.
"Am I?"
"What?"
"Am I?" Hermione repeats. "Harry, I can't remember most of my first semester. All I have are flashbacks and I feel as if they're not mine. I can see myself doing these things and I am like…I wouldn't do that! Would I?"
Harry couldn't reply to that. He was trying to place together everything Hermione had said. She looked so frustrated, biting the inside of her cheek. Her nose twitched slightly, the same way it always did when she was upset with someone, or herself.
"I'm not me, Harry," Hermione continues. "When Malfoy talked about me on the train, I did nothing. I sat there. I never used to be scared of him, and now I can't even look at his face. I'm so stupid, Harry! I'm pathetic! I'm a shell of who I used to be and I hate myself for it. It's my own fault I lost myself."
"Hermione, stop blaming yourself."
"But, Harry, you don't understand!"
Hermione paused.
"It is all my fault!"
"No, it' not—"
"Yes, it is! It's all my fault because I let it happen!" Hermione says.
"Ron and I—" Harry begins.
"No," Hermione says flatly. "I appreciate yours and Ron's help more than anything, Harry. However, can you see where I am coming from?"
Harry looked into her eyes, trying to find the bit of reason she was hanging so dearly on to.
Suddenly, Ron burst from around the corner, his hat completely caked with snow and one could swear there was a small line of blood across his cheek. He shook his head violently and a sheet of frozen snow showered down. His eyes were wide and almost wild with either fear or excitement.
"Wow," He exhales.
"How fares the combat?" Hermione asks.
Ron's whole body shuttered.
"Fred is merciless," He replies. "I almost got to Laurel, but got shot in the back with a really hard snowball."
"Well, get back out there, soldier!" Hermione leans over to tap his leg. "Protect your flag."
Ron grabbed a couple more snowballs and headed out into the battlefield.
Hermione shook her head and let out a little laugh.
Harry took a moment to remember the look on her face. She seemed the happiest just at that moment than she had the whole day.
"What is it now?"
"Well," Hermione says, "it's a bit ironic, isn't it? We just finished the fight to regain my initial memories. And now, I'm fighting to remember the fight."
Harry slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer, running his hand up and down her arm. She placed her head on his shoulder, some of her hair tickling his nose.
"You'll be you in no time," Harry says.
"Thank you, Harry. You've always been like a brother to me."
Harry then remembered what Laurel said back when they were still trying to cure Hermione. They were in Hogsmeade, the park, and Laurel had locked Hermione and Ron in a tool shed. "That's what happens in a guy-guy-girl relationship. You love them both to death, but one is more of a brotherly love. The other couldn't help but capture your heart". Harry was happy to be platonic with Hermione. He knew for quite some time that she and Ron had something different between them. He supposed it was mostly fear of being cast aside after things progressed, if they ever did. Jealousy was one of the many monsters residing in Harry, and it was hungry more often than the others.
There came three terrifying war-like cries from the backyard. Fred and Laurel rounded the corner at top speed, and nailed Harry with snowballs galore before grabbing Hermione by an arm each. They lifted her clear off her feet and cried their victory once more. Ron crawled from around the house, completely covered in snow, cheeks and nose rosy.
"Harry," he cracks. "You're the guard. What happened?"
"What happened to you?" Harry counters.
"I looked away for one second," he replies. "One second was all it took."
The two boys collapsed, looking up at the grey sky. It slowly started to snow.
That night, the six lounged in the living area once more, this time decked in comfy pajamas and slippers. Hermione was sitting on the couch, Laurel on the floor in front of her. They were taking turns French braiding each other's hair. It was strange seeing Laurel with her hair down. She smiled as she sat cross-legged, holding a mug of hot eggnog. Hermione had loosened up after her talk with Harry that afternoon. For some reason, it helped.
"Ah," George groans. "It's too early to go to bed, but it's too late to do anything productive."
"I know; I have an idea," Laurel says. "Let's play a game."
She lowered her voice for 'game' as if it were forbidden.
The twins perked up, but Ron, slouching in an armchair, sighed heavily and looked up at the ceiling. Harry laughed, trying to anticipate what was on Laurel's mind. It turned out to be nothing to worry over.
"We're going to play Poker."
"What's Poker?" Fred and George ask together.
"Oh, I forgot," Laurel nods, looking back at Hermione. "We're surrounded by wizard folk."
"Muggle game," Hermione adds.
"Hey, I know what Poker is," Harry says.
"Alright, three are in the know. That should make it easier to teach to the red-heads here," Laurel stood up. "I have a deck of cards in my trunk."
Laurel quickly ran upstairs. Fred and George started to raise their eyebrows at each other, sly grins on their faces. Hermione appeared calm as can be, taking a spot on the floor. Laurel returned quickly and sat down next to Hermione, beckoning all the boys to join them and form a nice circle. She shuffled the cards, not in any fancy fashion, and deals five of them to each person and sets the rest of the deck in front of her.
"Okay! Your goal is to get the best possible hand. Ace is high; you can get a pair, three of a kind, four of a kind, two pair, flush, straight, royal flush, full house. I don't think I forgot any, did I?"
Hermione shook her head. "Don't think so."
"I'm the dealer, and you can trade cards in to me for a possible better hand. You can only trade once and up to three cards. If you have an Ace, you can trade four. We all bet on our hand. Best hand wins, of course, and wins all of the booty."
She smiled widely on saying booty, swooping low into the double o.
"Does it have to be money?" Fred asks.
"No, I don't have a problem with miscellaneous items," Laurel says. "I think that's even more fun."
"I'm not sure I get it," Ron looks quickly at his five cards.
"Okay, the first hand will be a demo."
After each player traded in their desired cards with Laurel, they all showed their hands. Hermione came away with the win, displaying two pair, 7s and 10s.
"Remember, it's all luck, really," Laurel says as she collects all of the cards. "All in good fun."
The rousing gambling continued for hours after the Weasleys got a hold on the concept of Poker. Not much money was added to the pot. If any, they were Knuts, and those were only used for the initial ante. Hermione did surprisingly well. She took win after win, grinning to herself as she pulled in all sorts of items. She won a pair of Harry's socks, one of Ron's shirts, and, oddly enough, a pair of boxers from the twins. Laurel laughed so much, maybe influenced by the countless mugs of eggnog she consumed.
Fred and George eventually retired, saying they needed some underwear left for tomorrow. Hermione offered to give back her prize, but they claimed she won them fair and square…and should use them wisely. Hermione laughed, loud and proud, brandishing those buck teeth. It was amazingly good to see her act in such a way. Her smile was the best.
Laurel, Ron, Harry, and Hermione remained on the couches and armchairs late into the night. The Christmas tree in the corner glowed magically (literally and figuratively). On a dare, Hermione attempted to wear all of her booty at once. She easily put on Harry's socks over her own, Ron's shirt over the exciting one and the boxers on the outside of her pajama pants. The colors clashed horribly, but it was quite amusing to see the ensemble together. Harry noticed that Ron wasn't taking his eyes off her.
Hermione was slowly drifting away, nodding off and letting her eyes droop. Her words were slurring and not making sense. It had been a long day.
"Hermione, you should probably go to bed," Harry says.
"You're probably right," Hermione nods.
She heaves herself off the couch that was swallowing her by the minute and sways on the spot. Laurel quickly holds out her arm for Hermione to grab.
"Harry, would you be so kind as to get her up the stairs?" She asks.
"Sure."
Harry took Hermione's arm from Laurel and guided her up the winding staircase towards Ginny's room where two cots were set up for the visiting girls.
Ron leaned forward in his chair, obviously ready to turn in himself.
"So," Laurel says, making sure he was looking at her, "did you have fun today?"
"Yeah, I suppose," Ron answers. "I didn't think I would, but I did."
Laurel grinned. "You were so cute, defending you flag."
Ron flushed slightly. "It was just a game; don't look so deeply into it."
Laurel nodded.
"I know you're planning on not telling Hermione how you feel anytime soon, Ronald," She says. "But you really should."
"Who are you to talk?" Ron asks. "You have it easier than I do and you still haven't made a move."
"Excuse me? You think it's easier for a girl to do this than a guy?"
Ron hesitated. "I don't say that, but it's possible."
"Ha!" Laurel almost snorts. "I don't know what it's like to be a guy, obviously. However, I can tell you it's no easy trip for girl. We fear rejection just as much as you do."
"I find that hard to believe."
"And I find it hard to believe you boys have a heart down there sometimes," Laurel counters. "Anyways, I wanted to make a pact with you."
"Pacts are useless."
"Okay, a promise? You like that word better?" Laurel teases. "We'll both tell our secrets after break. You, Hermione, and I, Joel."
Ron didn't answer.
Laurel poked his arm. "I'm not saying we'll do it in the same room. I just think it may be easier on us knowing there are others in this boat. The words may come easier knowing someone else is saying the same ones. I'm sorry if I'm not making much sense."
Ron slowly nodded. "I understand."
"Do you think you can do that?" Laurel asks. "Not for me, but for yourself. Maybe things will be easier once you tell her."
Ron laughed shortly. "Right after break?"
Laurel thought for a moment. "Well, not the day after," she laughs. "However, we cannot go into February without doing it."
"February, huh? That gives us a month to prepare."
Laurel smiled. "You make it sound like an exam."
"I'm as nervous about this as I am about exams!" Ron jokes. "Well, maybe more."
"I should say so," Laurel agrees. "Look, I don't want to push you. I want to help you."
Ron shrugged. "Okay, I'll give it a go."
Laurel flashed a bright grin and holds out her pinky finger. "Pinky Promise!"
"What are you, seven years old?"
"Possibly," Laurel smirks.
Ron smirked back, giving her his pinky finger. They lock them and shake them up and down two or three times.
The two get up from their seats and head toward the stairs to go to bed. At the base, Laurel turns around to face Ron again, a slight sneer painted on her lips.
"I bet you liked seeing her in your shirt, eh, Ronald?"
He shoved her shoulder hard, a devilish look on his face. "Laurel!"
She giggled and ran up the stairs before he could punish her again.