Hermione sighed in frustration as she sat in her room. It was a week since Professor Dumbledore’s funeral. It was a week since she had cried on Ron’s shoulder and he had held her and stroked her hair. It was a week since she and Ron had told Harry that they would go with him wherever he went in his search for the Horcruxes and the destruction of Voldemort. It was a week since the monumental events following Harry and Dumbledore’s attempt to get one of the Horcruxes and all she could think about was how it had felt being held in Ron’s arms. She had been far too upset at the time to even register the fact yet now, a week later it was all she could think about. She should be reading, finding out as much as she could to help Harry, but she couldn’t concentrate.
She’d realised a couple of nights ago that what she’d been wishing would happen for ages had finally happened. True, the circumstances were far from ideal, but the sentiment had been there: Ron cared for her, had wanted to comfort her as she expressed her grief for the loss of Dumbledore. He had cried too, the tears dripping from his nose and soaking into her t-shirt. How could she ever have accused him of having the emotional range of a teaspoon? The question now was, how much did he care? She thought he cared a lot more than he let on, but she wasn’t sure. Well sometimes she was, but then the little doubts crept in and gnawed away at her confidence until she was no longer sure of anything about Ron.
Her musings were interrupted by a tapping at the window. She jumped up and opened the window to let Pig in. The little owl hooted happily and zoomed wildly around the room. Hermione smiled; only Ron could have a mad owl called Pig (admittedly the name was Ginny’s fault, but still!). She coaxed Pig down with an Owl Treat and untied the letter from his leg. It was addressed in Ron’s untidy scrawl and her heart leapt at the sight of her name in the familiar writing. She hurriedly opened it and read.
Dear Hermione,
Has the last week been as bad for you as it has for me? I still can’t believe it: Dumbledore dead, Snape the murderer and Hogwarts probably not going to open next term. I keep sitting in my room going over it all again and again in my head until I think I’m going crazy. Goodness only knows how Harry’s getting on at his uncle and aunt’s! I’m having enough trouble and I didn’t see it all.
Anyway the real reason I’m writing is to ask if you want to come and stay at The Burrow from Wednesday. Mum’s going mad getting ready for Bill and Fleur’s wedding and the rest of us are working like house-elves (Hermione tutted loudly) doing stuff for her. Sounds like fun, huh? Come on, you know you want to join in! Besides I could really use someone to talk to, no-one else understands like you do. Send Pig back telling us when you’re arriving and we’ll see you on Wednesday.
Ron.
Hermione smiled as she finished reading the letter. She couldn’t wait to get to The Burrow. She loved being there in Ron’s house with Ron’s family. They were great people to be around. Besides, she could really use someone to talk to. Her parents were wonderful people, but being Muggles, they had no idea when it came to the wizarding world, and no real concept of what she had been through. She was sure they wouldn’t mind her going. They knew that she was in danger and that being with other witches and wizards could possibly keep her safer than she was in an unprotected Muggle home. Only one way to find out for sure and that was to ask them. Hermione went downstairs to the living room.
After gaining permission for the trip from her parents, Hermione ran back upstairs and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. She wrote quickly in her neat handwriting,
Dear Ron,
I’m doing OK, I suppose. I can’t stop thinking about it all either. I should be finding out stuff to help Harry, but I just can’t concentrate for long enough to read. I could use someone to talk to as well. I could write it all down, but it’s not the same, plus I don’t think Pig could carry all the parchment I’d need! So in answer to your question, I’d love to come to The Burrow. Will Harry be coming or has he got to stay at the Dursley’s for a bit longer? He needs to talk too, otherwise he’ll just brood like he did after Sirius died. Anyway, I thought I’d arrive about midday, if that’s all right. Let me know, otherwise I’ll see you on Wednesday.
Then she hesitated. Should she put ‘love Hermione’ or just sign it? What would Ron think? She’d never signed her letters to him ‘love’ before, but then neither had he. She thought about it for a moment, the tip of her quill poised above the parchment, then nodded and dipped her quill in the ink. She swiftly wrote ‘love Hermione’ on the end of her note and quickly sealed it before she could change her mind.
“Come here, Pig,” she called and Pig zoomed to her hands. She fastened the letter carefully to his leg. Pig jumped into the air and hurtled excitedly around her head.
“Take it straight to Ron, won’t you?” she said nervously. She didn’t think Ron would appreciate all the teasing he would get if his brothers found out that she’d written ‘love Hermione’. The little owl surprised her then; he landed on her shoulder and rubbed her cheek with his beak in a reassuring gesture before launching himself out of the window.
Knowing that she wouldn’t get as much work done when she reached The Burrow, Hermione turned to her books, determined to concentrate. Picking up Forgotten Hexes and Curses she began to read.