A Girl Named Hermione Granger: Year Four
Chapter Seven: You And Your Logic
Discaimer: I don't own anything.
After Draco and Pansy were sent home, Hermione had found herself living in lock down; although she hadn't actually been grounded. After the night in the kitchen, her father hadn't brought it up again, either. It was now nearing the end of August, and she was due to go to the Burrow for the rest of the summer.
She sat on her bed, books spread out in front of her, with the sun light filtering in her window, gleaming off the hard covers, and their curly silver writing. She had received her list of new school books this morning; a perk to having a teacher as a father, and she was wondering how on earth she was going to fit everything. Her father had told her to pack up whichever of her items she absolutely needed, and then he would be taking her to Diagon Alley for her new robes and books.
The very first thing she had packed, and quickly covered with her customary muggle clothes (for the weekends of course,) was the one book she had removed from her Gringotts vault. She had not been able to bring herself to read it under her father's roof; feeling a little like she was betraying his trust. So she had decided she would be reading it at school instead.
She climbed off her bed and grabbed her broom; she would definitely be bringing it his year. Over the summer, while she had visited Ginny at the Burrow, she had grown rather comfortable with flying; not to mention the number of times she had flown up to the roof. She leaned it carefully against the open lid of her school trunk, and looked around; all of her old robes were much too short now, and she'd thoroughly memorized her old school books. She could think of little else to pack.
She grabbed her purse from its resting place and left her room, taking the stairs two at a time, "Dad?" She called out as she reached the lower landing, "Julie?" The house was eerily quiet, though the front door was propped open slightly, to let in a draft of air. She made her way to the door and poked her head out as she heard faint voices drifting on the wind.
She was mildly surprised to see Julie out in her front garden, chatting amicably with some muggle neighbours; Julie had been given strict bed rest orders from the doctor when she'd finally returned from Jane and David's. She was, however, greatly surprised when her father stepped out of the front door of Julie's house, carrying a faded black travel mug, and dressed in dark gray jeans and the same green shirt he had made her wear at the beginning of the summer.
Hermione watched through the crack in the door as Julie accepted the mug; telling her new muggle friends that it was a secret recipe tea, before placing a chaste kiss to Severus' cheek. The exchange looked so normal that the fourteen year old felt like she was spying on someone else's family for a moment. She had rarely seen her father dress down in muggle clothes, and she had never seen him converse willingly with the muggle neighbours either.
Though she supposed it had to do with the rumors that had been floating around the small town; it was amazing how people frowned upon the idea of single mothers, not that Julie was a single mother, though she had appeared to be for a while.
The scene next door made her think of her home before Hogwarts; Julie and her father looked like a happily married couple expecting their first child; she guessed the neighbours would never guess that he had a fourteen year old daughter watching them from a crack in the door, like a horrible secret burden. She sort of wished to go outside and include herself in the family event, but she was afraid to ruin their moment.
She retreated into the kitchen and reached into her purse, drawing out her wand and placing it on the table top. She hadn't touched it since her night in London, until now, as she spun it around in circles, broodily watching the tip spin round and round.
When she grew bored of that, she drew out handfuls of galleons, sickles and knuts, and began stacking them into tall towering piles. She continued building, adding walls between the turrets, and using what remained of her muggle money to add a roof and the front gates.
This was how Severus found her half an hour later; sitting in the kitchen building a scale model of Hogwarts out of coins and bills. He froze in the doorway, watching in awe as she finally finished. She looked up and saw her father gaping at her model, and she quickly knocked it over, "I'm ready to go now," She said quickly, scooping everything back into her purse.
Severus watched his daughter pour the large amount of coins into her purse and felt a little bit conflicted. Should he be somewhat proud she had built an exact replica of Hogwarts from memory; or angry that she had withdrawn so much money on her last visit to Gringotts? His mind was decided when he noticed that she was waiting for him to scold her. "That was rather impressive." He said slowly, delighting inwardly in the embarrassed smile that came over her face at the praise.
Diagon Alley was nearly devoid of life, aside from the shop owners, and Hermione guessed it was because of the Quidditch world cup. "Why do I need to get dress robes?" She currently had her list of needed supplies in front of her face, she was particularly curious about the newly required formal wear. She had never seen the older students wear anything fancy before, nor had she heard Fred and George complain about it.
Severus chuckled as he walked beside his daughter, "There may be a formal event this year at which you should dress up." He replied, not wanting to give up any more details. He had spent the better part of his summer assisting Dumbledore in setting it up; he didn't want to spoil the surprise. "What kind of formal event? A dance?" She pushed, but her father just shook his head, "I won't say. Just get something nice."
She sighed and looked back down at her list, "Will you help me pick it out?" "I'm sure you'd rather I didn't." He did not particularly want to end up sitting in Madam Malkins' Robes For All Occasions, for the entire afternoon; at least partially because he didn't want to know how her dress robes would look. He remembered his first formal ball; as a Slytherin student he had been forced to attend, and he remembered how the girls had dressed then.
"Okay, can you get my ingredients from the Apothecary while I'm picking out dress robes?" She usually preferred to pick out all of her own supplies; but she had a good feeling that her father would probably be hiding out in the Apothecary while she was trying on robes anyway. "I will give you an hour." He said, stopping as they reached the front of the robe shop.
She watched him leave before entering the warm, cozy shop, and heading over to find a rack full of long, flowing, colourful robes. She flipped through the ones on display and chewed on her lip, most of the ones here were sort of awful. Just as she was about to give up, her eyes landed on a beautiful Periwinkle blue dress. She pulled it off the hanger and pressed it up against herself, surprised to find it was the right size. As she turned to find someone to help her with the new school robes she would need, her eyes landed on something that just screamed Ginny's name to her. Deciding she still owed the younger girl a proper birthday present, she grabbed it as well.
When she walked into the Apothecary forty five minutes later, with her over stuffed bag of robes, including two boxes, her father gave her a questioning look. "I found a present for Ginny." She explained, and he rolled his eyes in amusement, "The formal event is for fourth years and older." Her face fell slightly, disappointed her young friend wouldn't be able to use her present, but she shrugged, "Well, then she'll have it for future events."
They went to Flourish and Blotts next, and she ended up buying several extra books, along with the ones on her list, several new quills, and at least ten new bottles of ink. By the time they had returned home, Hermione was beginning to feel utterly exhausted. "I still have to pack too," she groaned as she dumped all of her bags and boxes onto her bed.
The sound of crickets permeated the still summer air as Hermione lay on an old cot in Ginny's room. Her school things were tucked under the window, where faded purple curtains hung limply with no breeze to move them. The cot she was occupying took up most of the floor space in Ginny's cramped room, and if she were to let her arm hang over the edge of it, she could rest her hand on Ginny's bed in all of its eclectic glory. Still, Hermione was quite happy at the moment.
Her father had dropped her off two days before, and rushed off without much of a proper goodbye. But all the tension that had been building at home since the night her father had found her in the kitchen with Draco was gone. "Hermione, you still awake?" The whisper from Ginny was so quiet that the brunette nearly didn't hear her.
"Yeah," Hermione shifted her head so she was looking at the blurry silhouette of her friend, "Can't sleep?" A soft rustling movement indicted the younger girl had shaken her head, "Ah, no, I'm too…nervous, I guess…"
The fourteen year old couldn't help the breathy chuckle that rushed forth. Harry was going to be arriving tomorrow, and Hermione knew that Ginny was nervous because her little crush on the dark haired boy never seemed to fade away. "Don't be nervous Ginny," she tried to sooth the younger girl, but was met with an irritated sigh.
"I can't help it – I really like him, but why did he and Ron have to get all friendly? It'd be easier to have a crush on him if my brother didn't talk about him non-stop."
Hermione chuckled again and bit her lip when she felt the red head's glare through the darkness. "If he and Ron hadn't become friends, then you and I wouldn't have either, because I would have wound up smooshed by that troll in my first year."
There was a moment of silence before Ginny burst into giggles, "You and your logic!"
Satisfied with the ease in the dark, cramped room, the two girls slowly drifted to sleep, dreaming of snitches, and two similar, but very different, seekers.
The sun beat down on the parched meadow as Hermione sat leisurely on her broom, eating an apple that had previously been used by Ginny and herself for Quidditch practice.
"So, you never did tell me what happened when the Slytherin's were over," Ginny drawled, hanging upside down from her own broom, low enough to the ground that her palms were pressed lightly into the dry dirt.
"Well, you never asked," Hermione said quickly, tossing the now bare apple core over her shoulder and into some bramble bushes. "I'm asking now, c'mon, 'mione, I want to know. You're always so skittish when Ron's around, but he's down at the house with Fred and George."
Of course Hermione didn't want to tell Ginny about Draco's visit when Ron was within hearing range; her friends didn't exactly get along, and who knew what Ron (and Harry, because Ron would tell Harry,) would say if he found out she'd kissed Draco? She'd rather not find out.
"You promise not to let Ron and Harry find out? Or any of your brothers, for that matter?"
"Cross Merlin's heart and a toad's eye."
Hermione snorted at the obscure wizard saying and lowered her broom so she was much closer to where Ginny was floating, wary of any eavesdroppers, "Well, for the most part it was nice to have company at home. Dad was gone a lot and then Julie was sick, so I got left alone with Draco and Pansy." A slight frown tugged at her lips as she recalled the first few days; trying to do homework, but being constantly bothered by one Slytherin or the other.
"Draco – he was particularly insistent on talking to me. Remember when I was telling you about the argument he and I had just before the end of school?" Ginny swung herself upright on her broom and nodded eagerly, leaning forward on her broom as the handle dug into her palms.
It had been glorious to have a friend she could confide such things in. As soon as she and Ginny had begun to grow closer, Hermione had opened up and confessed the whole of her feelings to the red haired girl, and in turn, Ginny had owned up to the depth of her crush on Harry – not that that was much of a secret.
"Well, he wanted to talk about that, mostly. I avoided him pretty well for most of the visit, but he cornered me in the kitchen in the middle of the last night he and Pansy were there. We both sort of apologized, and we decided we should pretend like last year never happened." Hermione felt a blush creep up onto her cheeks as Ginny leaned even closer, waiting for more.
"And –" the brunette shifted awkwardly and let her eyes drop to the polished handle of her broom, "and then he kissed me –" Ginny's jaw dropped and there was silence for the space of a second before the younger girl squealed and clasped her hands together in front of her face as the brunette flushed furiously and tried to bury her face into her own hands. "And then my dad came home."
Ginny's excited squeal turned into raucous laughter, and her broom lowered to the ground so she could get her feet on solid ground. "You – your first kiss got interrupted by your dad!" Ginny snorted and slapped a hand over her mouth as Hermione touched down on the ground beside her. "I can't even imagine – Snape walking in on you and Draco – the horror," Ginny continued on, howling with laughter for the next ten minutes.
By the time the worst of the red head's laughing fit was done, Hermione's blush had managed to fade, and the fourteen-year-old was tapping her foot impatiently in the dirt. "Yes, yes, I know that's funny and all, but we should go back for lunch – and don't you dare tell anyone! You've promised!" "Of course I won't, 'mione, I think my brother would have kittens if he knew you kissed Malfoy!"
Hermione stiffened as she was reminded of the rather awkward confession that had spurred the decision to tell Ginny about Draco in the first place. Shortly after they'd begun to hang out, Ginny had casually mentioned something she'd seen in Ron's room – a rather crumpled valentine that had been addressed to her. It had brought to light something that Hermione had begun to notice whenever Ron and Harry would actually spend time with her during the school year. Ron was harbouring a very minor; almost not-there crush on her.
She could have ignored the signs forever, until Ron found someone else to focus on, if Ginny hadn't noticed. But the younger girl had, and she'd even tried to push the idea a little, until Draco floated into the equation.
"Good, that's not really a bridge I want to cross just yet." Things were bound to get ugly when that came to light; IF that came to light. Resting their brooms over their shoulders, the two Gryffindor girls meandered through the bluff of trees that blocked the make-shift Quidditch pitch from the view of the Burrow.
The rest of the day passed in an exciting blur as Hermione assisted Ron with setting up a cot in his room for Harry, while Fred and George made a large amount of suspicious noises in their room, and Ginny was helping her mother down in the kitchen.
"What time is it now, Hermione?" The fourteen-year-old did her best not to roll her eyes as she straightened out the sheets on the cot; it was the fifth time in as many minutes that Ron had asked that question. "It's still half six, Ron, and for the last time, your dad said he was going to call you down when he was ready to fetch Harry."
Satisfied that the wrinkles were all out of the fabric, and no longer able to pretend she was doing anything, Hermione turned to face Ron where he sat on his bed, wearing some shabby old jeans and a terribly red shirt. "What time are we leaving in the morning?" Awkwardness had gripped the two of them firmly since she had come to stay, and it was such a painful awkwardness that Hermione had endeavoured to keep as close to Ginny as possible, knowing the two youngest Weasley's didn't like to spend time together during the summers.
Ron shrugged and picked at the fraying bottoms of his jeans, "Dunno, before sunrise, I expect. Dad says we're walking a ways out before we get to the portkey." His blue eyes were darting about the room, fixing themselves on everything they could – everything except for Hermione. Despite popular opinion, Ron was very much aware of the growing awkwardness between himself and Hermione, and he was at a loss as to figuring out how to stop it – short of keeping Harry as a constant presence.
"That's helpful Ron, really," she drawled dryly, supressing a soft chuckle as his freckled face flushed red and his eyes finally settled on his hands, "Well it's not like he told me a specific time or anything. I've hardly had a chance to talk to my dad since Snape dropped you here."
"He didn't 'drop' me here, Ron, you make it sound like I've been abandoned." Hermione snapped as she made her way to the door leading to the winding staircase that would free her from Ron's indelicate presence. "How d'you know he'll take you back at the end of the year? You brought an awful lot of stuff here." In a flurry of thick brown hair and a flash of her pink, long sleeved shirt, Hermione spun on her heel once more and smacked her friend on his arm in warning. "I brought my school things here, Ron, and that's it. My dad won't be abandoning me here forever. He's had me for three years, and until Voldemort comes back, I'm staying with him."
Ron snorted and rubbed his arm grumpily, "I was just making an observation, Hermione, you didn't have to hit me," he grumbled as she stormed out of his room, casting a glare over her shoulder at him. As soon as she was out of sight, Ron dropped his head into his hands and groaned. He'd been trying to act like a concerned friend, and somehow, he'd ended up being a jerk to Hermione – again. He just couldn't get it right. "RON! I'VE GOT THE FLOO UP, GET DOWN HERE!" Arthur's shout echoed up the stairs, and was followed by grunting and groaning and banging from the ghoul in the attic as Ron hoped off his bed; the disastrous conversation with Hermione already brushed aside in his mind as he planned what to do with Harry later that night before bed.
Several hours and a large supper later, Harry and Ron were sitting on their respective cot and bed, sharing a box of slightly stale Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans.
"That looks like it might be spinach, Harry," Ron said cautiously as he took a long hard look at the flecked green jelly bean currently being held up by the dark haired boy. "I think it looks like apple," Harry replied, breaking the bean in half, "A knut to whoever guessed right?"
Ron accepted the half bean with a grimace, "Alright, but I did warn you." They each popped their half into their mouths and spit it out just as fast – it had indeed been spinach.
"So, how's it been having Hermione over for the last few days? You two getting closer yet?" Harry asked as he fished a single bronze coin out of his money bag to toss onto his best friend's bed. Ron shrugged as he scooped up the coin and tucked it into his pillow case with the rest of the money he had been saving all summer for the world cup. "Not really, she and Gin are getting pretty close though. Always giggling and gossiping. Worst part of it is Snape's the one dropping her off all the time. I've run into him in my own house I don't even know how many times."
Harry's brow knotted together as he frowned, digging around the carton for a harmless-looking bean, "So she really is living with him? I thought that was a joke – what's he like in the summer?" He plucked two cream coloured beans out of the box and threw one at Ron before popping the other into his mouth as the red head gave him a sour look. "He's an ass, just like in class, but he was wearing muggle clothes a couple times, and he reeks like firewhiskey half the time. I think 'mione's out of her gourd, saying he's a great dad. Maybe he's controlling her."
Swallowing his bean with a grimace – it had been horseradish – Harry rolled his green eyes and set the box of beans on the floor so he could lie down. "Ron, we already got reassured by Dumbledore, what more do you want? I don't like him any more than you do, but Hermione seems pretty happy to call him her dad."
"Well then why didn't she tell us sooner?" Ron asked, eating his own bean and laying down on top of his faded orange comforter. "Probably because we accused Snape of trying to steal the sorcerer's stone to revive Voldemort in our first year." The boy replied without missing a beat as he placed his glasses on the tiny table between the cot and bed and tucked his arms behind his head. "Oh yeah…she still could have said something though."
End chapter seven.
I wasn't exactly planning to post this until Sunday or Monday, but I've had a very trying day and decided "what the hell, why not."
My email got hacked for the second time in as many months and hotmail froze it, so I've been switching everything over to a new one. And my boyfriend is being forced to work all weekend and therefore had to back out of a trip to visit some of my family this weekend, and now, now I have to spend the next two days listening to my brothers rag on me about it. And they never waste time in doing that. Ever wish you were an only child?
Right, so I'll stop my bitching now...just, I had to get that off my chest somewhere, and I don't wanna deal with the stress and fuss I'd get if I did it on facebook and fml always rejects me...
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and there were no errors - I didn't really proof read this one. I'll have the next chapter up by the end of next week; possibly skipping right to the end of the world cup, but maybe not. I have a half assed attempt at the camping bit written already.