An early August night’s breeze blew through the open window, making the curtains dance dreamily. A nearly-full moon cast its bluish shadows on the sleeping houses and neatly manicured lawns of the drowsing suburban street. A dog barked in the distance, and another replied.
A young woman with dark, intelligent eyes and massive amounts of curly, messy brown hair gazed down on this peaceful, prosaic scene. It was impossible, she thought, to tell from here the havoc and turmoil that had ensued in the past few months and the real dangers that lie ahead, not only for her and the people she loved, but for the whole country.
Hermione sighed and shifted on the window seat. Sleep was a fair-weather friend, apparently, and it was the rare night this summer that she got more than a few hours of rest. Sometimes she wished her brain had an “OFF” switch…or at the very least, she could get her hands on a Pensieve. There was too much going on, inside of her and out, that she had very little control over, and it made her restless.
Trying to speak with her parents was frustrating. They were intelligent, open-minded people, but they couldn’t really relate to her any more. For the first time in her life, Hermione had to edit her conversations with them. What would they say when she broke it to them she wasn’t returning to Hogwarts? That, instead, she was running off “ with two boys, nonetheless “ to destroy the most evil wizard of all time? The looks she imagined on their faces were ones of almost comical horror, and would be funny, if only the topic weren’t so deadly serious.
She yanked her hair in frustration. She supposed this was part of becoming an adult, but the fact that she was a witch, and lived, basically, in a different world than her parents had widened the canyon between they and she that much more. This would make the gap nearly impossible to bridge. She longed to be back in the wizarding world, to be with Harry and, of course, Ron.
Ronald Weasley. Was there anyone more infuriatingly, irritatingly, stubbornly, clumsily…loyal, good-hearted and brave? What a mass of contradictions he was, and was a mass of contradictions he caused in her heart. She was self-aware enough to know she was in love with him, and had been for the past few years. But Ron himself, what a mess he was. Harry was your typical clueless guy, but Ron made Harry’s dealings with women look Cassanova-like in comparison.
Last year, she had finally, gently started revealing a bit of her heart to Ron, and in his own bumbling way, he had begun to respond. But, what was that disaster with Lavender all about? It had been hurtful and immature. She had a feeling that Harry could offer her some insight to Ron’s erratic behavior, but that was another problem. Harry. She couldn’t make Harry an intermediary between herself and Ron. Harry wasn’t a fool, he had to sense there was a certain amount of tension between Ron and Hermione that didn’t exist in her friendship with Harry. The whole situation was awkward and unfair. It was at times like this that Hermione found it difficult to have two male best friends. She needed a girl to talk to.
On cue, and almost, well, almost like magic, a feathery silhouette headed towards her open window. As the owl landed on the sill and ruffled its wings, Hermione grinned to herself. Thanks Ginny, she thought, and eagerly untied the scroll of parchment attached to Errol’s leg. The owl hooted nervously, his head turning towards Crookshanks’ languishing form on Hermione’s bedspread. “Hang on, Errol, I may have a reply for you,” she stroked his head soothingly
She unrolled the letter and read:
Hi Hermione!
I was glad to get your letter earlier…the only women to talk to around here are Mum, who’s in a wedding-induced frenzy, and Phlegm, who just clogs my sinuses and makes my wand hand itchy for hexing. Wouldn’t Bill be surprised if she walked down the aisle with purple tentacles sprouting from her forehead? Aahhh, well it’s nice to imagine, at least.
But, more to the point, you wrote for advice and I am going to give it. (Though, considering my own currently frustrating romantic situation, I can’t promise that it’ll be any good!)
Hermione looked up from the letter and smiled to herself. She knew Harry’s heroic but rash decision to break things off with Ginny wasn’t going to last. All it was going to take was one afternoon of pick-up Quidditch in the Burrow’s backyard “ or maybe seeing Ginny in her bridesmaid’s dress.
From a sister’s perspective, it’s sorta hard to see any of my brothers as, well, fanciable. This is particularly hard with Percy, but that’s mostly because he’s such a prat in general. But we are discussing dear Ronnie, aren’t we? Hermione, listen to me. Ron is a bit immature and hot-headed. Insensitive at times, even. But there’s no doubt in my mind that he fancies you. As much as you guys argue, go head-to-head, you bring out a tender side of him that no one else really can. He worries about you when you aren’t paying attention, and draws comfort from you.
Hermione brushed a stray tear from her cheek and remembered being comforted by Ron at Dumbledore’s funeral. At the time, she felt like she was holding on to a life raft. Not out of desire, but out of need. It was like breathing. It seemed a little impractical to be bothered about fancying her best friend when so much else was at stake, but she needed him. His friendship, his warmth, his love, now more than ever.
Besides, this week I caught him checking himself out in the mirror at least three times a day and even found him attempting a Vanishing spell on some of his freckles. He certainly isn’t going to all that fuss for our Aunt Muriel or Grannie Weasley! I know you are coming for the pre-wedding festivities on Friday, but why don’t you head over here a bit earlier so we can chat in person? Send word back with Errol tonight, and you can Apparate as early as tomorrow morning if you’d like. Mum’d love to have you, and Harry is coming tonight “ in fact, he may be here by the time you read this. Now that he’s of age he can leave those dreadful Muggles he lives with. **Sigh!** I suppose you and I will just have to look as ravishingly beautiful as we possibly can to wake up the pair of gits we’re in love with.
I know the three of you are going after You-Know-Who when this whole wedding hoopla is over, but is it so wrong of me to want you here to help me fix my hair in the meantime??? ;-)
Love,
Ginny
Hermione smiled. There really was something special about those Weasleys, there was no denying it. She flipped the letter over and scrawled,
Ginny,
Thanks so much! I will Apparate tomorrow morning before breakfast. Expect me at the Burrow by 9 a.m. and ask your mum to save me some of her fantastic blueberry pancakes.
Chances are we’ll get some “girl talk” in since neither of our gits will be awake yet!
Love,
Hermione
She watched Errol fly away until he was no more than a blurry speck against the moon. Abandoning her reverie at the windowsill, she stretched out on her bed, scratching Crookshanks behind his ears. With a mind just as full as it had been a few hours before, but more at peace, she drifted to sleep with a small smile on her face, and thoughts of the Burrow in her heart.
The Time is Now by Hermione816
Chapter Notes: Hermione can't sleep - it's been a problem all summer. But an owl from Ginny inviting her to the Burrow a few days before Bill and Fleur's wedding changes that...