tw : references to sex that aren't very explicit
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Hermione
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Dear Hermione,
I hope you're having a good summer in London with your parents. You'd better get some rest, because the Time Turner probably has you out of whack and you need to see some sunshine. So put those books down and get outside, Merlin!
Anyway. It's business as usual here. Ginny's training with us in Quidditch, and she's really good. She's the Chaser, Fred and George are the Beaters, and I'm the Keeper. We're waiting for Harry to play Seeker, even though our Golden Snitch is all broken up and doesn't fly very fast any more.
I know you get the Daily Prophet every day at home, but I also know you don't watch the Quidditch news. It's the World Cup though, so I'll keep you updated here: Bulgaria are leading, they're clearly top of the rankings. There are only a few matches left before the final. For the moment, the favourites this year are Peru and Ireland, who will face each other at the end of the month, and Bulgaria. Personally, I'm going all out for Ireland!
My dad will be picking up tickets for the final as soon as the scores are announced. He usually manages to get good seats. You've got to come! It's a really important event for wizards, and I'm sure you'll get caught up in the atmosphere, even if you don't really like Quidditch. So let me know as soon as possible if you're up for it! You can stay overnight at the Burrow, of course.
Write back quickly,
All the best,
Ron.
PS: Sorry if Pig bites you, he gets too excited sending letters.
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Hermione picked up the second letter she had received that morning, which was much shorter, but with nicer handwriting:
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Dear Hermione,
I hope your summer is going better than mine. My aunt and uncle have decided to put my cousin Dudley, and the whole family, on a diet. As a result, I'm only eating mini portions and I've run out of Chocolate Frogs to nibble on. Could you send me some snacks to hide in my room, please?
Apart from that, I don't have much to say. How's your holiday going? I think Ron would like us to go to the Burrow in August, I'd love to see you there! I miss you so much and can't wait to get back to Hogwarts.
See you soon, I hope, unless I become the ghost of Skinny Harry who haunts the mysterious lands of Privet Drive because I've been on a too strict diet.
Love,
Harry."
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Hermione smiled as she read the two letters in turn. She had received a few letters this summer, from Harry, Ron, Neville and Ginny. She went downstairs to the living room of her house, where both her parents were having breakfast before going to work.
"Hi Mum, hi Dad." she said as she entered the room.
They both smiled broadly:
"Good morning Mimi. Did you get a letter?"
"Two, actually. One from Ron and one from Harry. Harry's aunt and uncle are even worse than last year." she said with a frown. "He told me about his cousin having to go on a diet, and Harry finds himself in it unwittingly. He's not eating enough, and is asking me if I can send him some food by owl."
Hermione's parents' eyes rounded and they immediately lost their smiles:
"Gosh, that's awful!" exclaimed her father.
"Poor thing! His guardians are monstrous, how can he still be there? Hasn't he got any other family to look after him?"
"To be honest, I don't know why he has to stay there," Hermione admitted. "And no, apart from Sirius, he doesn't have any other family."
Hermione had told her parents all about Sirius, but since he was on the run, there was obviously no way Harry could spend his summer with him. His parents nodded, concern still evident on their faces:
"Poor darling. Of course we'll send him something," said her mother, getting up and heading for the kitchen. "I've still got a box of hors d'oeuvres and sugar-free cakes from Fabrice's farewell party at the firm. Would that suit him?"
"Yes, perfect."
Her mother arranged the box for Harry with a crease between her eyebrows. Her father finished his coffee and added:
"No sugar, that's a shame. That's all he must want at the moment."
"Ron's probably going to send him something too. And it's his birthday soon, so I'll make him an orange cake."
"Good idea, Mimi. What have you got planned today?" her mum asked from the open kitchen counter.
"Oh, probably hanging out with Danny at the park."
"Do you want me to get you train tickets to Edinburgh in August?" her dad asked.
Hermione bit her lip.
"Er... Actually... Ron's invited me to his house at the Burrow. There's the Quidditch World Cup on and his family offered me to stay with them for the month of August..."
"Quidditch? I thought you didn't like it." said her mother.
"I don't like playing it, but it might be interesting to watch a match."
"Is it the World Cup? Interesting. Is it played like football?" asked her father, curious.
"Yes, sort of. The favourites are Ireland, Ron's favourite team, Bulgaria and Peru."
Hermione's father chuckled and nodded:
"Alright Mimi. I'm sure you'll have a great time! And just as well, because we don't have any holidays in August, we were afraid you'd get bored here in London."
"We can go to Edinburgh to see your grandmother at the end of July, then?" offered her mother, who was looking at the calendar hanging on the door. "For a week, would that be all right?"
"Yes, great." said Hermione.
Her parents made a note of it and got ready for work, both of them putting on their sky-blue dental coats. Hermione reread Ron's letter again and felt the beginning of the excitement of seeing her friends again. Thank goodness her parents were as tolerant as hers, and not like Harry's Uncle Vernon and Auntie Petunia.
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Draco
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It had been almost a month since Draco had spoken to Pansy. The last time he'd seen her was on the Hogwarts Express, and he hadn't heard from her since. Still, that didn't stop him from going to the courtyard of the Manor every evening and waiting desperately by the fountain. But she never came.
One fine morning in August, as Draco was having breakfast in Blaise's garden, Theo exploded:
"Alright, I've had enough. Draco, you're going to have to wake up now."
"What? What did I say?" gasped the blond.
"Nothing! That's just it, you say nothing! You sit in your corner and mope, and Pansy does the same. It's unbearable! Don't you want to make up, so we can all see each other again like we used to?" he cried.
"Thank you, Nott. I hadn't thought of that. All we had to do was make up." said Draco with a hint of irony as he spread strawberry jam on his toast.
"You know exactly what I mean."
"Pansy asked me to give her space, and time. That's what I'm trying to do."
"That doesn't seem to be helping, either of you." Blaise interjected. "She's even more miserable than you are."
Draco suddenly straightened in his chair:
"What? You've seen her?"
"Yeah. A few times." said Theo. "She comes when her dad's away..."
"Or when I'm not around." grumbled Draco.
"And she spends a few hours with us." continued Theo without taking Draco's intervention into account. "But she's depressed, and she doesn't talk much. A bit like you, in fact."
"Do you think I should go and see her, then?" asked Draco.
Theo shrugged.
"I don't know, I've never understood your weird connection. But anyway, I can see that Pansy's sad, and I don't like that very much. So if there's anything you can do to make her feel better, and if you can stop being a lunatic who only picks up a word or two an hour, that would be fine with me."
Draco took the day to put Theo's advice into action. First he went back to the Manor and had dinner with his parents, who were much more cordial than on other evenings. Then he waited until it was dark outside before going next to the fountain. Even though he knew perfectly well that Pansy wouldn't be there, he couldn't help but feel a little pang of pain in his heart when he saw that she hadn't turned up.
He waited a few minutes, just in case, and then crossed the garden towards the hedge at the back, which took a good five minutes. The air was damp, indicating a storm that was due to break in a few hours, and there were no stars in the sky.
He reached the end of the garden, bordered by a thick green hedge. He and Pansy had dug a passageway so that they could move more freely from one house to another, which he struggled to find in the dark, and then rushed through. He found himself in the garden of Pansy Manor, which was almost as wide as his own. The light in her room was on.
Draco crossed Pansy's garden, skirting the hedges to avoid being spotted by Pansy's father. He arrived at the bottom of the facade, just below Pansy's window, which was miraculously open. He had his wand in his hand, but it was no help, because he wasn't allowed to practise magic outside of Hogwarts until he was seventeen, so he put it in his pocket and prepared to climb.
The facade of Pansy Manor was made of stone, which made it easy to climb. Draco did the best he could, holding on to the handholds he could barely make out in the darkness. Forcing himself not to think about the dozens of spells that could have enabled him to reach the window effortlessly, he finally managed to touch Pansy's windowsill. He dangled in the air for a few seconds, pulled himself up with difficulty and landed in his best friend's room.
Pansy wasn't there. Draco entered the room in soft steps for fear of being overheard by Pansy's father or his house elf. Draco had already been in her room a few times, and it hadn't changed at all, despite the years. It looked very much like his Hogwarts dormitory, except that it was much bigger and had only one bed. It took up a large part of the space and could easily hold four people on its own. The wall was covered in magical ivy that reached right up to the ceiling. Opposite the bed was a small desk, and next to it a large bookcase. Draco knew that Pansy had never touched one of these books in her life.
He found no packet of cigarettes, unlike in her dormitory, probably hidden from his father's view. He wondered if she was secretly smoking here, at the window. Draco didn't know what to do while he waited for Pansy to return to her room, so he wandered up and down the room without making a sound.
He found himself in front of the desk, which was empty. There were no scrolls or open books to indicate that Pansy had ever sat in that chair at least once. Her desk was like her room: unused, as if it belonged to someone else.
Draco then noticed one of the desk drawers, which was slightly ajar. He opened it and found a diary, which he immediately recognised as the one Pansy had taken from her pile of presents at Christmas in first year. It was made of brown leather and fastened with a string. Draco opened it, not at all embarrassed to be snooping around. He was surprised by the number of pages already covered in Pansy's round handwriting, and was amazed to discover that she had been writing in it since first year, and that there weren't many pages left.
He flipped through the pages, suddenly stopping on one of the last ones because it had several round spots on it. Draco ran his hand over them, realising they were tears.
3 March 1994
Dear Diary,
Today was not a good day, like most days this fucking week, or year, even. I've tried to pretend everything's fine, as Daphne advised, but I can't. I need to see him. I need to see him, all the time.
I hate myself for feeling this way about him. I hate myself, because I know it's not mutual, and it's pointless, and it'll destroy what we have. But I can't push away these feelings for him. Every day, when I see him arrive for breakfast, I feel this joy of seeing him, and it's both intoxicating and painful. I don't know how to free myself from it, as if I were locked in by my own thoughts.
I wanted to tell him earlier, when he was half slumped over me on a sofa in the Common Room, but when I launched myself, I saw that he was asleep. He doesn't look well at the moment, just like me. But I don't dare ask him why, because I'm afraid he'll tell me about Astra or some other girl, and I don't know if I can bear that.
I miss those times when I didn't care, when I didn't see him as anything other than... than what we were. I miss him, even though he's right next to me. I want to tell him, but I don't have-
The page stopped abruptly in the middle of a word. Draco turned the page, but it was a different date. He wondered what had made her stop writing: tears? Or someone talking to her?
He put the diary back where he'd found it, reluctant to continue reading after reading that. Worst of all, he hadn't even noticed how depressed she'd been this year, too busy watching everything Granger and her bloody Time Turner.
When he turned to sit on the bed, he heard footsteps in the corridor. He knew that the Manor was big, too big, and that her father never ventured too close to her room. Yet he was suddenly afraid that it was her father who was coming back, and he even hesitated to hide behind the curtain until he recognized Pansy's footsteps. They were much more muffled and discreet. She opened the door and Draco had just time to put his hands forward before she saw him and jumped.
"Fuc-" she screamed.
"Shhh!" intimated Draco. "I don't want your father to hear."
Pansy's eyes were wide open and one hand was over her heart as the shock of seeing someone in her room had shaken her. In her startle, she had spilt a few drops from the glass of milk in her hands and placed it on her desk. Then she turned back to him, her coal eyes sparkling with animosity:
"Draco! What the hell are you doing here? My father's here!"
She pointed to the door of her room, which she had closed.
"I know, I know, I just wanted to talk to you." he murmured.
Pansy arched her eyebrows, which were hidden under her black fringes. She was in pyjamas, purple checked trousers and a far too large white t-shirt, which Draco recognised as his own. Pansy glanced towards the open window:
"Talking? Wait, you climbed over the wall to get in?!"
"Pansy, I'm sorry." Draco enunciated very solemnly.
She stopped talking and crossed her arms over her chest instead, then put her gaze on Draco to show him she was listening. He continued as sincerely as he could:
"I'm sorry I'm not in love with you." (Pansy's lip twitched a little at this), "I wish, I wish I could have told you it was mutual, and married you, and had children with you, like my parents would have wanted. I swear it's my dearest wish, especially since you distanced yourself. Pans', I don't know how I can do this without you. I'm lost, and I miss you terribly. Nott called me a lunatic."
She smiled the smallest of smiles at this sentence and uncrossed her arms:
"And he called me a depressive." she said in a breath.
"It proves that we don't work like that. I know you said you needed space, and time, but Pans', please stop ignoring me. It's too hard."
Pansy seemed a little surprised by his words. It had to be said that Draco was a specialist at not saying what he felt, or in very limited doses that only Pansy could analyse. But telling her had done him a world of good. She took a little time to reply, keeping the distance between them by leaning on her desk.
"I miss you too, Draco." she finally said. "But I can't. I wanted to see you at the fountain on the first night of the holidays, but I couldn't bring myself to see you when I..."
It was horrible to see her like this, in distress. Draco could see she was holding back tears by pinching her arm discreetly under her pyjamas, and the sight was far too painful to watch. So Draco made a spontaneous, resolute decision. He didn't want to lose his best friend, and he would do anything to get her back.
Impulsively, he crossed the room in two strides, closing the distance between them. Pansy widened her eyes, clearly not expecting this, and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Draco leaned in and kissed her.
At first, they were both surprised by what he had just done. Although they had been very close since they were children, they had never done that. But it didn't shock Draco that much. Pansy's lips were soft and familiar and her smell comforted him. He had missed her so much. Surprisingly, she responded to his kiss, which then intensified. He ran his hands over his best friend's cold cheeks, her neck, her hair, before turning her and pointing her towards the bed, where he made her fall backwards.
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Draco closed his eyes.
They'd slept together.
It should have disturbed him, but strangely enough, it wasn't as disturbing as he thought it would be. It was as if they'd done it hundreds of times before, as if they were used to it. Even if it was Pansy's first time, it had happened naturally, and it sounded like a reconciliation.
He watched Pansy sit up in bed and quickly put her bra back on, then open the little drawer in her bedside table and take out a packet of cigarettes. So she did sneak smoking in here. She took one out, offered one to Draco silently, who refused, and burnt the end of her cigarette with a match in the packet.
Once she had swallowed and spat out the smoke several times, Draco spoke first:
"Your father doesn't say anything, about the cigarettes?"
"He hasn't noticed." she said in a white voice. "He never comes here, and I asked the elf not to say anything. He is obliged to follow my orders."
Pansy's room was soon filled with smoke, but she didn't seem to realise it. Draco was still lying next to her, shirtless under the black sheets. Suddenly realising his lack of clothes compared to her, he grabbed his t-shirt to put it on.
"What was that, Draco?" asked Pansy without looking at him.
"What, you didn't like it?" the blond immediately enquired.
He'd asked her several times if she was still up for it, and he couldn't bear it if she regretted it. Fortunately, she shook her head:
"Yes, but that's not the point."
Pansy took another drag from her cigarette and Draco considered the question she had just asked.
"I'm not in love with you." he repeated. "But I can't stand not having you in my life. So I decided to kiss you to see what it felt like, and I liked it."
He knew it was one of the shakiest explanations possible, but Pansy didn't dig. She just smoked her cigarette again in silence.
"I don't want us to think of ourselves as a couple either." Draco clarified. "Because I guess you don't either, and I can't stand labels about who we are. But I don't want to stop having sex with you because of it."
"You want to be a booty call, then?" asked Pansy.
"Yes and no. I want to be like we used to be, best friends, with benefits."
He smiled and Pansy did the same, much to his relief. She seemed to be giving the matter some serious thought. He gave her time to digest what he had just proposed as he looked up at the ivy stretching across the white ceiling.
"Shall we talk to Theo and Blaise about it?" she finally said.
"They'll work it out for themselves, won't they?"
Pansy nodded.
And it was as simple as that.
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Hermione
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"In Ireland?"
"Yes, that's right, with my class."
Danny nodded, eating a crisp from the packet they shared.
"The whole month of August? That's so great! You'll love Ireland, I went there with my dad when I was five."
"I hope so. I can't wait to get there."
She and Danny were lying on the floor at the foot of the sofa in the Grangers' living room. They'd laid blankets all over the place to lie on and watch a film while eating snacks, Hermione's favourite summer moments. The next day she had to go to Ron's at the Burrow, so Hermione had made up the excuse of a school trip to justify her month-long absence to Danny.
"I'm going to France, to the South, with my parents and Leonie." Danny explained. "Hey, maybe I'll see your school! Where is it again?"
"In the Pyrenees." Hermione invented.
"Oh, no. I'm going to Montpellier."
"You'll come back all tanned." Hermione remarked as she ate a fudge.
"I hope so. I'll send you a postcard, well, to your parents, so they can pass it on to you."
Hermione nodded with a smile and turned her attention back to the film. She was so happy to be spending her last evening in London with Danny. It was strange, but since she'd left for Hogwarts, they'd grown closer despite the distance. She had received at least fifty letters from him, which she had kept in a drawer in her dormitory.
She had also asked Mary to come, but she had refused, saying she wasn't available. Over the years at Hogwarts, Hermione and Mary's exchanges had become less and less frequent, and now amounted to one or two letters a year asking about each other. Hermione had only seen her twice since the beginning of the summer.
She turned discreetly to Danny, who still had his eyes glued to the small television screen. He had changed, and yet he still represented that comfort of home to Hermione.
She really liked Danny. She would have loved to tell him about her real life, about the fact that she was a witch, but just imagining McGonagall coming back into the living room to tell her that she was expelled stopped her in her tracks.
Besides, it was no bad thing talking to someone who had no idea what Hogwarts was like. Her mum and dad were familiar with it, thanks to Hermione's letters. The fact that Danny was an outsider was refreshing, it was a break and Hermione relished these moments of reality.
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The next day, Hermione tried to drag her suitcase up the stairs, only to be interrupted by her father, who took it for her. At the foot of the stairs, Hermione's mother was waiting with a sad little smile, wearing her dentist's coat. When Hermione reached her, she brushed a lock of hair out of her face and kissed her cheek:
"I'm really sorry I can't take you to the Burrow... I'd love to, but with all the appointments we've got..."
"Nonsense, Mum! Don't worry, I'll manage just fine."
"Here, here's some Muggle money." she said, putting some pounds in her hand. "And the rest of the Galleons we exchanged on Diagon Alley, do what you like with them."
"Mum, that's far too much, I'll never need all that."
"Then buy us some chocolates in Hogsmeade." advised her father, who had finished taking her suitcase down the stairs. "We loved the ones you sent last year, for Christmas."
"John, you're a dentist." Hermione's mother remarked in a slightly incensed tone.
"So what if I am? That doesn't mean I'm not allowed to enjoy the sweets of the wizarding world, does it?" he replied, winking at Hermione, who smiled. "Besides, they must be magically altered not to give cavities, right?"
"I have no idea." Hermione admitted. "I'd ask Ron, or the Weasley twins, they must know something about it. Talking of teeth... I was thinking, maybe... I could have mine shortened, this year?"
"Oh no." said her father, suddenly losing his smile.
"But Dad! They've got specialist spells in there, and you refused to get me braces despite me asking you a million times..."
"Mimi, for the millionth time, you can't make teeth smaller with braces. And you've already told us about these spells, and it's always no." said her mother softly. "Your teeth look fine, perfectly aligned."
"No, they're too long."
Her father chuckled and kissed the top of Hermione's head:
"Nonsense."
Hermione rolled her eyes but didn't insist, her parents were already very kind to let her go to the Burrow for August, she didn't want to seem ungrateful.
They said goodbye with many hugs, until Hermione's father was forced to literally pull Hermione's mother away from his daughter, because they were already late for their first appointment of the day. Hermione noticed that her parents were saying "see you next year", not "at Christmas", as if they already knew in advance that Hermione wasn't coming back for the holidays.
Once Hermione's parents had left for the practice round the corner, Hermione found herself alone in the house. Danny was at one of his drawing classes, and she had no reason to stay there.
She went round the house a few times to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, then went out with her suitcase. Ron's last letter telling her what she had to do to get to the Burrow was curled up in her hand, and her wand in the other, hidden from view by the sleeve of her jacket. She walked up the street from her home until she came to an empty alleyway next to a small park.
Once she was sure no one could see her, she unfolded the letter and carefully reread the lines Ron had written:
"You must hold your wand aloft and hail, or simply think of the Knight Bus, and it should arrive ahead of you."
Ever since she'd received that letter a week before, Hermione hadn't understood that sentence. How could the Knight Bus come when she didn't do any magic whatsoever?
She decided to trust Ron and took her wand. As usual, a warm shiver ran down her hand, as if magic had entered her. She didn't say a spell though, and just raised her arm, as if waving at someone from afar.
She thought she looked quite stupid like that. But she didn't have time to lower her arm, because a huge noise detonated in the small alley, causing Hermione to violently fall back against her suitcase.
The Knight Bus looked like a London double-decker bus, except that this one had three decks and had been painted a garish purple. The bus doors opened and a ticket inspector, dressed in the same colour as his bus, jumped down and recited in a loud voice:
"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus, emergency transport for witches and wizards in distress. Wave your wand and hop on, we'll take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike and I'll be your conductor this morning. Give me your luggage and I'll be happy to carry it inside for you."
He sounded as if he'd recited it a hundred times. Stan Shunpike gazed casually at Hermione. He had floppy ears and acne, he looked like he'd only just left Hogwarts.
"Hum... Hello." Hermione greeted awkwardly.
"Hi. You've only got one suitcase?"
Stan walked over to Hermione and picked up her trunk, but before Hermione could help him, he let out a yelp:
"Merlin, that cat! Is it yours?"
Hermione was slightly annoyed that people were talking about her cat like that, especially before asking such a stupid question. She felt like replying with a scathing retort, but stopped herself just before it crossed her lips and simply nodded.
Stan looked at Crookshanks again with his mouth hanging open a little, then turned back to Hermione:
"Where do you want to go?"
Hermione consulted Ron's letter again and read the address aloud:
"The Burrow, Gnome Road, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon."
"Ah, it's at the Weasleys'!" commented Stan, clearly proud to be showing off his knowledge. "No problem, we can take you."
"How much is the ticket?" asked Hermione.
"Eleven Sickles. But for you, I'll make it ten, and I'll offer you the hot chocolate."
He winked at her and Hermione looked for her change in her purse, wondering if he was making offers to all the girls who travelled on his bus. Stan then carried his suitcase over and placed it next to an empty seat.
The only seat that was occupied was that of an old man with a cane. He was sitting down but looked shaken, as if the journey had made him a little ill. Hermione gave him a slight nod in greeting and went to sit down in her seat.
"Hogwarts?" asked Stan as he stood in front of her.
"Yes, fourth year. Gryffindor."
"Wow, cool." he replied. "I've just finished. I was in Hufflepuff."
Hermione nodded and suddenly the driver engaged the handbrake. There was a huge noise, as if the engine had slammed, and Hermione was thrown backwards in her seat by the speed of the bus. Now she understood why the old man was in such a bad state. She looked out of the window and saw one landscape after another, changing from green, to grey, to blue.
"We'll drop Mr Grant off first, if that's all right. He's going to Scotland, to Inverness."
Hermione's eyes widened:
"To Scotland?!"
She thought back to the letter she had sent Ron that said she would arrive in the afternoon. She'd never get there in time...
"It'll take about twenty minutes."
"What?" asked Hermione, surprised. "But how is that possible? Does the bus Apparate? Or is the speed magically accelerated by a propulsion spell?"
Stan frowned in an almost comical figure:
"Huh? Well, I don't know. It's moving fast, that's all. You should have been in Ravenclaw. What's your name, anyway?"
"Hermione Granger."
"Hermione. Nice name."
She simply puckered her lips and looked out the window at the view. It felt weird going so fast. The seat shook beneath her. Hermione's face scrunched up a few times as she watched the bus drift along the pavements and risk accidents a score of times, so she preferred to look in front of her so she wouldn't get dizzy.
"Tell Mr. Grant we're on our way, Stan." advised the driver, whom Hermione couldn't see from where she was sitting.
Stan walked along the bus, obviously very used to the shaking. When he reached the other passenger, he shouted:
"MR. GRANT! WE'RE ALMOST THERE!"
The old man nodded, although Hermione suspected that he must not have heard anything because of the chaos. The bus came to a screeching halt, propelling Hermione forward and nearly falling if she hadn't caught herself in her seat.
"INVERNESS!" shouted Stan.
He grabbed the old man's suitcase and threw it outside like a pile of rubbish, then waited for the old man to come down with difficulty before closing the doors. The sound of gunfire rang out once more and Hermione grabbed hold of herself so as not to fall again.
Stan returned in front of her, carrying a cup of hot chocolate the same colour as the Knight Bus.
"Oh, thank you." she said in a slightly uncertain voice.
Trying as best she could to sip the drink, which spilled more onto the floor than into her mouth, Hermione wrote off any attempt to read a little under her mum's blanket.
After what seemed like an eternity, the driver called out:
"Ottery St Catchpole, straight ahead!"
Hermione packed her trunk, reluctant to leave it in Stan's hands. Crookshanks was hoisting from his cage, absolutely outraged at having endured this journey.
"Here we are!" said Stan.
Just then, the driver slammed on the brakes and Hermione fell forward again, this time caught by Stan who pulled her to her feet.
"Thank you." said Hermione, getting out quickly.
She found herself back on the path, and as she turned round, the Knight Bus had already disappeared. The journey had made her nauseous. She looked around for somewhere to go, but immediately realised where it was when she saw the house in front of her. It was all twisted, as if they'd added floors as they went along like dominoes. Hermione understood why they called it "the Burrow", because it looked like a big anthill.
She arrived in front of the house and could already hear the shouting from outside. Hermione cocked her fist to knock on the door, but it flew open before she could and came face to face with Fred:
"Hermione! There you are!"
He gave her a quick hug, followed by George, and they carried her trunk and Crookshanks into the sitting room. All the rest of the family were already sitting at the table having a snack, and when she came into the room, everyone stood up with big smiles:
"Oh, Hermione!"
"How nice to see you again!"
"Are you all right? How was the Knight Bus?"
"Very well, thank you." Hermione replied. "A bit shaky."
Arthur gave a small laugh and Molly then came over to Hermione and hugged her affectionately:
"I'm so glad you're here."
"Mrs. Weasley, thank you so much for welcoming me into your home..."
"Oh, dear! You're always welcome at our house, Hermione. Make yourself at home. You'll be sleeping in Ginny's room, if that's all right?"
"That's perfect." said Hermione with a smile. "Thank you again."
Molly patted her shoulder and sat down to drink her tea. Hermione was in awe of the room: practically everything was controlled by magic, from the washing up to the knitting that went on by itself in the armchair. Fred and George had gone out into the garden and Hermione could hear them laughing.
Ron finally arrived in front of her and gave her a hug:
"Hey, Hermione. Sorry, my family are a bit... intrusive." he added in a low voice.
"Are you kidding? I'm so glad to see them again. A month is a long time!"
Ron had grown a little more during July, and now towered over her by almost a head. His hair was a little longer than usual, and his freckles stood out even more in the sunshine.
He helped her carry her suitcase to Ginny's room. The walls were pale pink and decorated with various posters, including one depicting a Quidditch team. Hermione put Crookshanks's cage on the bed and opened it, but Crookshanks refused to come out.
"Come on! Bus time's over, we're at the Burrow now!"
The cat turned his head towards Hermione and consented to go outside to stretch his paws. Ginny entered in turn and let out a squeal of delight when she saw the cat:
"Crookshanks!"
She went over to him and stroked his neck, which made him purr.
"There's my room." she said to Hermione. "It's small, I hope it suits you..."
"Oh, of course!" exclaimed Hermione. "I'm so happy to be here."
"I'm glad you're here too. It's getting a bit boring here when you're the only girl."
Hermione couldn't understand how Ginny could feel any hint of boredom in this house, it felt like every corner was a place to explore. Hermione walked around the room and stopped at a poster that depicted several musicians, dressed all in black.
"Who's that band?"
"The Weird Sisters! Haven't you heard of them? Here, listen."
Ginny touched a small machine that Hermione didn't know was sitting on her desk, and immediately some rather loud music came out of the speakers. Hermione wasn't much of a rock fan, but she had to admit that their songs were very catchy.
"I've always been a fan of theirs, but Mum doesn't like it when I play their music, she says it hurts her ears. Do Muggles have rock bands?"
Hermione explained everything she knew about Muggle music, and then their discussion turned to Hogwarts and many other subjects. Ginny was so different when she was alone with Hermione. She was funny, confident, she could talk to her for hours without feeling embarrassed. They always had something to talk about.
Ron joined them a little later with two bowls of apple chips:
"Hey, Ginny, I remind you that Hermione is my best friend." he remarked as he sat down on his sister's bed.
"You're together all the time at Hogwarts, I can steal her for a couple of minutes to chat!" exclaimed Ginny, laughing.
They talked about all sorts of things, but mostly about Quidditch.
"Ireland crushed Peru." Ron explained excitedly. "It'll be them against the Bulgarians, the best possible match. I can't wait to see Krum in the flesh! The best Quidditch player in the world!"
"Krum?" repeated Hermione. "I thought you were for the Irish?"
"He is." replied Ginny. "But he's fallen in love with Krum, and has talked of nothing but him for months."
"Shut up, Ginny." Ron muttered.
"Dinnertime, children!" shouted Molly from downstairs.
All the doors to the rooms opened and closed, and many footsteps echoed through the house. Hermione, Ginny and Ron went downstairs and sat at the dining table outside, under the stars. Hermione took some chicken which she ate with appetite, having not eaten much all day, and listened to the various conversations around her. Molly was talking about Harry, who was due to arrive the next day, worried:
"He doesn't eat, poor thing... I'm going to cook a big meal tomorrow, so he can eat his fill. What kind of food does he like?" asked Molly.
"Onion soup." Hermione replied instinctively.
Ron gave her a funny look.
"And treacle tarts." added Ginny, who had suddenly blushed.
"Why are you blushing? He's not even here yet." Ron pointed out.
"Shut up, Ronald."
The meal continued and Hermione helped herself to several more servings, including desserts. Then they all had a cup of herbal tea, and around midnight Molly sent the 'children' to bed. Hermione wished Ron and the others a good night and went back up to Ginny's room. She put on her lightest pyjamas and lay down in Ginny's bed, while Ginny brushed her hair in front of her mirror.
"By the way, did you see? In Ron's list it says "dress robes"" said Ginny.
"Yes, I did see that. I don't have any fancy dresses at home, though." said Hermione.
"I thought we could go and buy some in Hogsmeade, both of us, during the year."
"Yes, that would be lovely!"
Ginny smiled and sat down next to Hermione in her bed. It was extremely comfortable. What's more, Crookshanks had crawled under the duvet and was sleeping at the foot of the bed in a concert of soothing purrs.
Unable to stop chattering, Hermione and Ginny talked for most of the night. Mostly they talked about Hogwarts. Hermione had noticed that Ginny was very fond of gossip, but unlike Lavender or Parvati, these were interesting. Ginny was extremely observant, which made her gossip much more grounded than her dorm mates, and Hermione loved listening to her tell about other people's lives, even if she didn't know who she was talking about.
"Are you looking forward to the match?" asked Ginny.
The room was pitch black, and Hermione couldn't see Ginny, but they were close enough that she could hear her whispering.
"I don't particularly like Quidditch, but I'm glad I'm going. Besides, with you and Harry, it's going to be great."
"You know, I think I really like Quidditch." Ginny confessed. "At first I thought I was just interested because Harry loves it, and I wanted to share it with him. But actually, following the World Cup has been a real passion of mine this summer. I've been training to be a Chaser, and I think I'm pretty good at it."
"Yeah, Ron told me that. That's great!"
"Yes." replied Ginny, who seemed to be smiling. "I'm glad I found something I like, and not just something I'm forced to like because of my brothers."
"What? What are you talking about, you're good at lots of things!"
Hermione felt Ginny shrug:
"I don't know, I think I do everything to impress Harry as much as possible, mostly."
"You're really very much in love with him." Hermione commented with a smile.
"What's the point if he doesn't care about me?" she moaned.
"If you stand up for yourself, I'm sure he'll notice you a lot more. You're right, Harry loves Quidditch. If you allow yourself to have real passions and assume your personality, he's bound to fall in love with you, too."
"You think so?"
"I'm sure of it."
There was a silence, then Ginny spoke again:
"In any case, you don't need to affirm yourself to attract Ron, do you?"
"What?" asked Hermione, frowning. "What do you mean?"
"Well, he's already in love with you."
"Nonsense."
Ginny raised herself up a little more on her elbow:
"Are you kidding? You didn't know?"
"No, because that's not true." Hermione said with a laugh.
"It's not untrue at all. You only have to listen to him talk for five minutes to realise that he loves you."
"No, he's just my best friend, that's all." protested Hermione in a whisper.
Ginny lay back with a mocking chuckle:
"Yes, of course. I hope you don't mean that about Harry then, otherwise I'm screwed."
They fell silent after that, and Ginny was asleep within minutes. Hermione could hear her breathing getting deeper and deeper. But Hermione couldn't sleep, because she was thinking about a certain redhead, who was sleeping just a few floors above her.