Little Things You Show

When Ron and Mr. Granger arrived back at the house, they found Hermione and her mother in the back garden discussing late summer planting plans.

Mr. Granger walked over to Hermione, hugged her, and kissed her forehead. "It's good to have you home," he said. "I have some work I need to finish. I'll be in my study for a while."

That seemed to be some kind of code between the Grangers and Mrs. Granger followed him inside.

Hermione cut her eyes at Ron. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" Ron said, looking around the garden, which was neatly planted in symmetrical beds, nothing like the haphazard garden at the Burrow.

"I mean, what did you two talk about? Dad seems upset."

Ron pushed at the grass with the toe of his trainer. "He explained cricket."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "All you talked about was cricket?"

Ron shrugged. "Sure."

Hermione glared at him. "You're a terrible liar, Ron."

He frowned at her. "Well, apparently, so are you."

"What?"

"Last summer, after the fight at the ministry, you lied to them about your injuries."

"Of course, I lied. What would you have had me do, tell him the truth? Oh, I followed a group of friends on a dangerous mission to fight a bunch of Death Eaters. I knew it was a bad idea, and said so, but I went anyway out of a sense of loyalty, and because I thought they'd need me. Is that what I should have said?"

"Maybe," Ron said stubbornly.

"That would have pretty much guaranteed I never set foot in Hogwarts again."

"But Hermione, they know you lied."

She shook her head. "But they don't know the truth and that's more important."

"So what did you tell them?"

"I told them I was performing a particularly complicated bit of magic and it backfired on me. That's plausible. It happens. It happened to me with the Polyjuice potion."

"He's reading The Daily Prophet now," Ron said.

"What? That's impossible."

"No, it's not. Dumbledore arranged it for him. He knows a lot more about what's going on in our world than you think he does. He knows about Harry and you-know-who. He knows we're involved."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. She stumbled over to a garden bench and sat down heavily. "Why would Dumbledore let him get the paper?"

Ron sat next to her. "Maybe he threatened to take you out of school if he couldn't find out what was going on."

Hermione looked pained. "He must be worried sick."

Ron nodded. "Yeah."

She rested her forehead against his shoulder. "This is awful."

He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair. He wondered if he should bring up the other things her father said. One thing in particular weighed heavily on his mind. He decided then and there that he didn't want to have the kind of relationship with Hermione that her parents had. He didn't want to keep quiet and not say things to spare her feelings. What was the point of having someone if you couldn't share everything with her? "Hermione," he said softly. "Your Dad thinks you've come home for a drink before the war. Is that why we're here? Is this visit because you think it might be your last chance?"

When she looked up at him, there were tears in her eyes. She wiped at them with her fingertips. "Not entirely," was her raspy response.

"But partly?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

He cupped her face and kissed her mouth gently. "We're going to be fine."

She nodded but more tears flowed down her cheeks.

Ron pulled her to him and let her cry quietly against his chest. He felt a lump forming in his own throat but swallowed it back. It wouldn't do for him to start blubbering too.

xxx

They stayed in the garden for a long time before going back inside. Hermione went to the loo to wash her face and perform a charm, so her parents wouldn't see she'd been crying. Ron wandered into the kitchen. Mrs. Granger was preparing dinner. Ron was fascinated with all the things she did without magic. It took so long. His stomach growled.

Hermione came in a few minutes later looking refreshed. "You need some help, Mum?"

"If you want to make a salad, that would be nice."

Ron was amused to see that Hermione made it the Muggle way. He wondered if she was embarrassed to use magic in front of her parents, or if it was just her habit not to do it at home.

xxx

Dinner turned out to be a somber affair. The baked chicken and salad were good, and Ron was pleased that he and Hermione were served wine like adults, but the conversation, or lack there of, was dismal. Ron finally couldn't stand the melancholy silence of his dinner companions anymore, and took it upon himself to be the evening's entertainment. He regaled the Grangers with every funny story he knew from school with special emphasis on anything that highlighted Hermione's talents.

After dinner, they retired to the living room to watch telly, but Ron was more interested in how it worked than what was on, and he and Mr. Granger talked for a long time about electricity and how it made pictures on the screen. Mrs. Granger retired early.

When Ron finally seemed to grasp the general concept, it was after ten o'clock. Mr. Granger stood and stretched. "Ron, I'm a dentist, not an electrical engineer. I'm afraid I've tapped all my resources on the subject."

Ron nodded. "It's really complicated."

"That it is, son, that it is." He yawned. "Well, I'm off to bed." He bent over and kissed the top of Hermione's head. "Goodnight, darling."

"Goodnight, Dad."

"Goodnight, Mr. Granger," Ron added. He looked over at Hermione from where he was sitting on the floor at the back of the television. She was curled up on the loveseat with her feet tucked under her. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid but untamed tendrils framed her face and caught the light from the lamp. He smiled at her.

"What?"

"You're beautiful," he said.

Her cheeks went pink. "Ron."

"You are," he said and went to sit next to her. There was a small blanket covering her lap and Ron pulled some over on to him. "Why is it so bloody cold in this house? I know you said it was drafty, but in the middle of summer?"

Hermione laughed. "My parents have air-conditioning."

"Air-what?"

"Air-conditioning. It's electrical and pumps cool air through the house. Dad used to work in India and now he can't stand being hot."

"You know," Ron said. "I'm starting to think my Dad might be right about Muggles. It's genius the way they get on without magic."

"You're not going to start collecting plugs now, are you?"

Ron slid his hands around her waist and tickled her sides. "Would that bother you?"

Hermione giggled and squirmed in his grasp. "No. It'd be really easy to shop for you then. I'd get you loads of plugs for every holiday."

He continued tickling her. "I could collect all sorts of Muggle things." They wrestled until he wound up on top of her. Suddenly, the mood shifted and he leaned down and kissed her.

She opened her mouth to him, but as he slid his hands under her shirt, she stopped him. She pulled away from the kiss. "Let's not do this here."

Ron sat up and ran a hand down his face. "You're right. Sorry."

"I think it's time we turn in," Hermione said standing.

xxx

Ron followed her upstairs, kicking himself for losing control in her parents' house. What was he thinking? He opened the door to his room and watched longingly as Hermione went into hers. Then he stumbled around in the dark looking for the lights. He'd seen her flip a switch in the hallway to make the lights come on, but he couldn't seem to find one of those on the wall in his room. He didn't want to look like a fool and ask Hermione, but where was the damn thing? He pulled out his wand. "Lumos," he said and began looking for the switch. He saw a lamp next to his bed and went to examine it. Now how does this work? he wondered. He pressed the base and pushed the shade. Nothing. He saw a little black bar below the bulb and pushed that in and was delighted when the light popped on.

"Hmph," Ron muttered. "I could be a Muggle." He changed into his pajamas and got into bed, but he wasn't sleepy. It seemed inappropriate to have a wank in Hermione's parents' house, so he looked through the nightstand for something to read. There was a stack of books. Unfortunately, most of them were dental texts. He found one called Mr. Midshipman Hornblower, which seemed pretty good. At least it wasn't about teeth.

He had just finished the first chapter when there was a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," Ron called.

Hermione came in carrying a blanket. She was wearing a short, white, cotton gown that showed a lot of leg. Ron grinned.

"I thought you might get cold tonight, so I brought you an extra blanket."

"Thanks," Ron said, setting the book on the nightstand.

"What are you reading?" Hermione asked, setting the blanket on the foot of the bed and reaching for the book.

Ron could feel his breathing hitch as she walked toward him. The light from the lamp made the fabric of her gown more sheer and he could see her breasts outlined rather clearly. She wasn't wearing a bra. Of course, she's not wearing a bra, he thought, she was on her way to bed and thought to bring you a blanket so you don't freeze your bollocks off. She's not here for a snog.

"Hornblower?" Hermione commented as she flipped through the book. "Dad loves these."

"Seems pretty good so far," Ron said, folding his hands across his lap to hide the growing evidence of his arousal.

Hermione set the book back down and walked to the door.

"Goodnight, then," Ron said and wondered just how inappropriate it would be to have a wank after all.

Hermione surprised him by shutting the door and turning back around. "Actually," she said, without looking at him. "I was wondering if you'd mind if I slept here."