I OWN NOTHING IN THIS STORY BESIDES THE PLOT.
June 28th, 1997
Dear Hermione,
I hope your summer is going well and that you're having fun with your parents. The Dursleys are ignoring me, which is an improvement over the yelling and piles of chores I used to get. I've been here for almost two days so far and I've only gotten a lot of stares and the occasional grunt from my Uncle Vernon...
July 5th, 1997
Dear Hermione,
I've had an interesting week- the Dursleys have been gone to dog shows almost every day because Dudley is trying to impress a girl who just happens to have a champion show dog. It's been heaven. I get to watch television for more than two minutes, I can eat all the leftovers, and best of all I can finally get out of my room…
July 15th, 1997
Dear Hermione,
I haven't gotten a letter from you yet, but it's probably on its way. How's your summer been? Have you gone anywhere interesting? I don't know if you've heard from Ron yet but he says Fred and George are testing some new products out. They're being really secretive about it, which means that it's going to be big. I don't know whether to dread or look forward to them releasing it…
July 26th, 1997
Dear Hermione,
I can't help but notice that you haven't sent one letter to me yet, and Ron says he hasn't gotten anything either. We didn't do anything to make you mad did we? What I mean is why aren't you writing to us? I could understand Ron acting like a prat, but what could I have possibly done?...
After reading Harry's letters, I start to cry. I've let down my best friends without meaning to. Harry has a way of making me feel better, whether he's right beside me or while I'm reading a letter from him, but suddenly he isn't helping. Harry's comfort just isn't enough for me anymore.
I search my mind, trying to think of something, anything that would help ease the pain of all the loss and hardships we've all endured. Suddenly I remember the only solace I had the day of Dumbledore's funeral- the soft feel of the fabric covered shoulder I cried into, the smell of wood spice cologne, the soft touch of a hand stroking my hair, the hot tears falling onto my face and mingling with my own…
I don't need books. I don't need my parents. I don't need Crookshanks, Parvati, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, or even Harry. At this point, there is only one person who can come close to making me feel like I'm worth something.
As weird as it sounds, I need Ron.
I laugh bitterly, brushing tears off my face and trying to compose myself. Ronald Weasley… he's been the bane of my existence since first year. Ron definitely knows which buttons to press to tick me off; he's been an expert at it for about six years now.
Even so, through all of the things about him that irritate me beyond belief, I really do like Ron. He's a great guy- he's fun, he's loyal, there's never a dull moment when he's around, and (dare I say it?) he's become pretty attractive in the past couple of years. Our personalities may not mesh well, which is apparent from our constant fights, but somehow we always find our way back into our friendship. I like knowing that no matter what happens I always have him to fall back on.
And Harry, of course.
I suddenly hear a knock at the door. I walk over to my bedroom window and look down at the front porch trying to see who it is, but the ivy climbing up the side of my house conceals their identity.
I sigh. If it's another door-to-door salesman I'm going to ask mum and dad to think about getting a Doberman. There is no way I'm going to stand at the door for half an hour listening to a man I've never met and will never see again talk about why I absolutely must buy this new and improved vacuum cleaner. I hate it when people say something is "new and improved". If it's new, there was nothing to improve on before, so it contradicts itself.
The door bell rings a few times in rapid succession, and I'm jolted back into reality. Continuing my muttering about salesman and new and improved products, I walk down the stairs, ready to teach the person behind it about patience. The door bell is still ringing, and the person pressing it is about to get his head bitten off.
Throwing the door open, I start yelling at the people on my porch.
"Did your mother never teach you about patience? It took me two minutes to answer the door, it's not like it was an hour! I heard you the first time you knocked, you didn't have to-"
I stop, my mouth hanging open like a goldfish.
Harry, Professor Lupin, and Mr. Weasley are standing on my porch, looking bewildered. Harry has his finger pointed at the buzzer, ready to press it again.
"Is that how muggles answer the door then?" Mr. Weasley says, astonished. "I would have thought they'd be more polite than that."
I start talking again, babbling so fast they probably can't hear what I'm saying.
"Mr. Weasley, Professor Lupin, Harry, I'm so sorry, I thought it was a salesman and I didn't want to have to listen to someone talk about vacuum cleaners, please forgive me, I didn't think it would be you, come in, we'll have some tea, my parents aren't home but I'm sure they would've loved to meet you, well, meet Professor Lupin, not Mr. Weasley and Harry, not that they wouldn't be pleased to meet you two, it's just that they already have- wait a minute, what are you doing here?"
They all continue to stare at me like I'm insane. Finally Harry seems to find his voice.
"Ron and I hadn't heard from you, and we were worried that something had happened to you."
I look at him blankly. "Oh- well, come in then. I'll make some tea." The three men walk past me into the house, each watching me cautiously as though they think I'm going to go crazy on them again.
"Alright- well, the parlour is this way." I close the door and lead them all into my house. My mind is still reeling.
From behind me I hear Mr. Weasley ask Harry in a low voice, "Harry, what's a vacuum cleaner?"
After making some tea for everyone and explaining to Mr. Weasley what a vacuum cleaner was, we all sit in uncomfortable silence in the parlour.
"So, why don't you three explain to me why you're here?" I say cautiously. Mr. Weasley looks a bit confused. "Actually, I'm not quite sure why we're here either. Harry said he needed to talk to you urgently."
"Yes, I do," Harry says a bit too urgently. "In private. How about we go in the kitchen, Hermione? We can get some cookies."
"Oh… okay." I say, and I lead him into the kitchen. As soon as we get out of earshot of the two adults I turn on my heel and say threateningly, "Harry, tell me what's going on."
Harry stares at me for a second. "Hermione, Ron and I were worried sick about you. You're usually the one who writes a lot of letters, and we haven't heard from you all summer. What's wrong? Don't try to tell me nothing, I know when something's up with you."
I slowly try to think of a good response. How on earth am I going to explain my problems to Harry when I barely understand them myself?
"Harry, I don't know. I'm just overwhelmed."
"You're overwhelmed?" Harry says. "You're overwhelmed? During the summer? Why?"
I sigh to myself and explain. "I'm trying to deal with all of this. Not just Dumbledore dying, but everything since third year. It's the constant worry, Harry. My last thread of grace is breaking."
He looks hurt as he gets what I'm saying. "So you're saying you don't want to be friends with Ron and me anymore?"
…Okay, maybe he doesn't get it. "No, of course not," I reassure him. "I just needed some time to myself to work it out. I actually hadn't even read your letters until about ten minutes before you arrived."
"Oh," Harry says. "So you won't come up to the Burrow with us then."
I think about this for a second. Yes, it would be awkward for a bit, but I've really missed the two of them. It's been almost unbearable, but until now I just couldn't bring myself to read those letters.
I'm not ready for it, but I have a feeling that I never will be if I don't make myself.
"Actually Harry, there's nowhere else I'd rather be right now."
Harry's face lights up. "Okay. Let's go pack your stuff." He follows me out of the kitchen back into the parlour.
"Hermione's coming too," he says proudly to Professor Lupin and Mr. Weasley.
"If it's alright with you, Mr. Weasley," I say nervously, wondering if Ron has mentioned me ignoring him this summer.
Mr. Weasley just smiled. "You're always welcome, Hermione."
"Great," says Harry impatiently. "Let's go get your stuff."
He runs up the stairs but stops there. "Uh, Hermione? Which one is your room?"
"First one on the right," I say, coming up behind him.
Once all my things are packed into my trunk, I open my letter drawer again. "I haven't opened any of these yet."
Harry moves over to my bed and sits down. "Then open them. See what they say."
I start to break the envelope on one of Ginny's letters, but I can't make myself do it.
"I think four letters is enough for today. I'll have to work my way up to the others, especially Ron's."
Harry adopts a mischievous look. "Especially Ron's? Why?"
I stare at him. "It's Ron. He sent me six letters. Six."
"So?"
I laugh bitterly. "So, he's never written me six letters before, and it kind of scared me a little."
Harry bursts out laughing. "Ron scared you. That's funny. Ron. You're one of the bravest people I know, and you're scared of Ron."
"Shut up, Harry. I was just freaked out because I didn't know why he was writing me so much. It's not like anything's different between us."
His face falls a little. "Nothing's different at all?"
I think about it. "Well, there's the whole Lavender thing which was upsetting since she's such a prat- I didn't think Ron's standards were so low. That's about it."
"You're saying you haven't noticed anything?" Harry sputters disbelievingly.
"What are you talking about?" I say crossly, hoping he's had too many bludgers to the head to have put two and two together.
"Hermione, you weren't mad about Lavender because she's a prat. Don't try to pretend that was it. I know when something's going on."
I turn away quickly. Damn, how did he figure it out?
"Something going on? Like what?"
Harry says, "I guess I have to spell it out for you. RON LIKES YOU. YOU LIKE RON. Get over yourselves already!"
My face turns very, very red at the thought of that. Ron? Ron likes me?
"Ron likes girls like Lavender. I'm not even close to his standards! I mean look at me! I have bushy hair, I used to look like a beaver, and it's not like I have a good body!"
Harry looks at me like he can't believe what I'm saying. "Hermione, you've really grown up in the past few years. You're not ugly at all."
I pause, trying to think of more reasons Ron wouldn't like me. "We fight too much-"
"You've got to be kidding me. You fight mostly because you two are jealous. With Krum, that was jealousy. Lavender was jealousy too," Harry practically screamed at me. "There is no way you two don't like each other. Everyone knows except for you and Ron."
I slump back, defeated.
"Oh my god, is it that obvious?"
Harry looks up at my ceiling. "Finally, she gets it!!!"
He looks down at me sitting on my floor, staring into space.
"Look, we've got to get to the Burrow. Let's get this stuff downstairs."
I stand up, but then remember something.
"Oh, I have to leave a note for my parents to let them know I'm gone."
"What time are they coming home tonight?" Harry asks.
"Around 7:30."
Harry thinks. "No, there's no way for an owl to make it from the Burrow in time for that. Write a quick note- we have to get out of here before Mr. Weasley figures out how to work the television, or else we'll never be able to leave."
I grin. "Agreed."
Hey guys, sorry this took so long! I've been so busy with school and exams coming up, and half my friends have birthdays in January so I've been really stretching my time as far as it will go. I'm not sure when the next chapter will go up because I have so many projects to do and exams to study for and all that jazz, so it might be a while- hopefully not as long as it was this time. I'll write as much as I can! R&R please. You know you love the button.
(FYI, if this seems a little rushed, that's because it was)