Brief reminder: Before the first movie, I had always envisioned Hermione as a black girl, so in the books, she was always black to me. Not too dark, not too light. Basically my complexion, in the middle. So you'll read references to her blackness. However, if you would just like to imagine her as very tan, go right ahead :)
Chapter 85: Scars And Swims
Dad woke us after only a few hours sleep. He used magic to pack up the tents, and we left the campsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Roberts at the door of his cottage. Mr. Roberts had a strange, dazed look about him, and he waved them off with a vague "Merry Christmas."
"He'll be all right," said Dad quietly as we marched off onto the moor. "Sometimes, when a person's memory is modified, it makes him a bit disorientated for a while...and that was a big thing they had to make him forget."
We heard urgent voices as we approached the spot where the Portkeys lay, and when we reached it, we found a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, all desperate to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible.
Soon, we were back walking through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane toward the Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because we were so exhausted, and thinking about breakfast. At least I was.
As we rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane.
"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!" came Mum's voice.
She had been waiting for us in the front yard, and came running toward us when she seen us, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand.
"Arthur - I've been so worried - so worried -"
She flung her arms around Dad's neck, and the Daily Prophet fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, I saw the headline: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.
"You're all right," said Mum as she looked over all of us, "you're alive...Oh boys..."
And to everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.
"Ouch! Mum - you're strangling us -"
"I shouted at you before you left!" Mum said, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.'s? Oh Fred...George..."
"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," said Dad soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says..."
When we were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione had made Mum a cup of very strong tea, into which Dad insisted on pouring a shot of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, Bill handed him the newspaper. Dad scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.
"I knew it," said Dad with a heavy sigh. "Ministry blunders...culprits not apprehended...lax security...Dark wizards running unchecked...national disgrace...Who wrote this? Ah...of course...Rita Skeeter."
"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" said Percy furiously. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans -"
"Do us a favor, Perce," said Bill, yawning, "and shut up."
I couldn't help smirking at Bill. Percy on the other hand, gave Bill a disapproving look.
"I'm mentioned," said Dad, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he reached the bottom of the Daily Prophet article.
"Where?" said Mum, choking on her tea and whiskey. "If I'd seen that, I'd have known you were alive!"
"Not by name. Listen to this: 'If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen.'
"Oh really. Nobody was hurt. What was I supposed to say? Rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods...well, there certainly will be rumors now she's printed that."
He heaved a deep sigh. "Molly, I'm going to have to go into the office; this is going to take some smoothing over."
"I'll come with you, Father," said Percy importantly. "Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person."
"Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely they can handle this without you?" said Mum, completely upset
"I've got to go, Molly. I've made things worse. I'll just change into my robes and I'll be off."
"Mrs. Weasley," said Harry , "Hedwig hasn't arrived with a letter for me, has she?"
"Hedwig, dear?" said Mum distractedly. "No...no, there hasn't been any post at all."
Hermione and I looked curiously at Harry. With a meaningful look at both of us he said, "All right if I go and dump my stuff in your room, Ron?"
"Yeah...think I will too," I said, catching the hint. "Hermione?"
"Yes," she said quickly, and the three of us marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
"What's up, Harry?" I asked, the moment we had closed the door to my room.
"There's something I haven't told you," Harry said. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again."
Hermione gasped. "Oh no, Harry! Well, maybe we can look something up in a text. Or, maybe reach out to Professor Dumbledore or Madam Pomfrey."
"But, he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-Who?" I asked Harry, looking bewildered. "I mean, last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"
"I'm sure he wasn't on Privet Drive," said Harry. "But I was dreaming about him...him and Peter - you know, Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill...someone."
Hermione began to look even more horrified than she already did.
"It was only a dream," I said, hoping it would stop their worrying. "Just a nightmare."
"Yeah, but was it, though?" questioned Harry. "It's weird, isn't it? My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again."
"Don't - say - his - name!" I hissed through gritted teeth, putting my hands over my ears.
"And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry went on, clearly ignoring me. "At the end of last year?"
Hermione's terrified look vanished instantly, and was replaced by a snort.
"Oh Harry, you aren't going to pay attention to anything that old fraud says?" said Hermione, waving her hand dismissively.
"You weren't there," said Harry. "You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance - a real one. And she said the Dark Lord would rise again...greater and more terrible than ever before...and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him...and that night Wormtail escaped."
"Why were you asking if Hedwig had come, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Are you expecting a letter?"
"I told Sirius about my scar," said Harry, shrugging. "I'm waiting for his answer."
"Good thinking!" I said, feeling a bit better. "I bet Sirius will know what to do!"
"I hoped he'd get back to me quickly," said Harry.
"But we don't know where Sirius is...he could be in Africa or somewhere, couldn't he?" said Hermione reasonably. "Hedwig's not going to manage that journey in a few days."
"Yeah, I know," said Harry, looking out of my window at the sky.
"Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Harry." I suggested. "Come on, three on three, Bill and Charlie and Fred and George will play...You can try out the Wronski Feint..."
"Ron," said Hermione, in an I-don't-think-you're-being-very-sensitive sort of voice, "Harry doesn't want to play Quidditch right now. He's worried, and he's tired. We all need to go to bed."
"Yeah, I want to play Quidditch," said Harry suddenly. "Hang on, I'll get my Firebolt."
I gave Hermione a smug grin. I knew what my best mate wanted.
Hermione left the room, muttering something that sounded very much like "Boys."
The next couple of days was pretty relaxing. That was until Ginny and Hermione suggested we go for a swim again.
Harry had swam in our lake before, but not with Hermione there, so he didn't know why I was so quick to turn down the idea, despite Bill and Charlie busting me out during the talk. After bickering for a while, Harry finally forced me into getting dressed and going outside to swim with the girls.
When we got out there, once again I was met with the sight of Hermione's perfect legs. Even though she had a one piece on this time, it didn't hide her legs at all, which in was starting to believe was my favorite body parts of her.
"Come on your two, let's play chicken." said Hermione. "Ron can hold me up, and Harry, you hold up Ginny."
Ginny's face went red and I was sure mine did too. Ginny still had her crush, despite being less odd around Harry these days. And while personally, I shouldn't have had an issue at all, the thought of Hermione sitting on my shoulders suddenly seemed a but naughty to me.
Still, Harry and I climbed into the lake, allowing the girls to sit on our shoulders. I felt my body tense up as Hermione draped her legs over my chest as she sat on my shoulders. I felt her thighs clench up slightly around my head, as she was a bit nervous.
Merlin, I wished I was an owl. You know, because they can turn their heads backwards.
"Did you hear me, Ronald?" came Hermione's voice, breaking my train of nasty thought.
"I'm sorry?"
"I said, please don't drop me."
"Oh!" I said, my hands immediately grabbing hold onto her smooth, soft legs. "Don't worry, I won't. You just don't break my neck."
Hermione let out a laugh and the game was on.
It was an interesting game to say the least. I had Harry by at least four inches, so Hermione towered over Ginny, who was about two or three inches shorter than Hermione herself. It ended up being a short and pretty much landslide of a game for Hermione and I.
We spent the rest of the time with the girls basically using us like those muggle animals called dolphins that live in the ocean. They would sit on our backs while Harry and I would try to race each other swimming back and forth.
Mum brought us out a picnic since we had stayed out well past lunch. The four of us sat and ate ham sandwiches and pieces of pie as the sun dried us.
"I shouldn't let all this sun on me." said Hermione, as she covered her legs with a towel.
"Why is that?" I asked. Harry and Ginny had left us to go and play a game called treasure hunt we made up in the water.
"Because, I'm black, and my skin only ends up darker, like I'm burnt. Not really all that flattering." said Hermione, with a look that she would have when she was "blushing".
"At least you don't get freckles everywhere." I said, pointing to my legs. I probably look like some splotchy painting. Pale with specks of brown all over."
"I think you look just fine." said Hermione.
Now it was my turn to blush. "Really? Gee, thanks." I said, sounding like a complete git.
Then I found myself being bold. I took the towel off of her legs, and actually brushed my finger quickly, but at the same time slowly, against her leg.
"Your skin doesn't look burnt." I said truthfully. "You look fine too."
Hermione gave a small laugh and pulled her legs up, hugging them. "Thanks, Ron." she said, smiling, then looking out at the water.
"You're welcome." I said, grinning.
Score one for you, Weasley.