DISCLAIMER: If I actually owned any of these characters, you would not be reading this for free! We all know this is all thanks to JKR!
Four More Days
A sob broke the still night air of number four Privet Drive. It had been only a few hours since Dumblerdore’s funeral and Harry Potter was staring up into his ceiling, not quite sure if he was ready to respond to his friends’ crying. They had arrived hours before to some expected resistance from the Dursleys; however, with a quick comment from Ron involving a pair of pig’s ears to match Dudley’s former tail and Hermione fingering the wand she had tucked into the waistband of her jeans, the trio was able to retreat into Harry’s room without incident. Another soft sob issued from the corner opposite Harry, breaking Harry from his remembrances of their arrival early that day, when a voice next to him called out.
“Hermione,” Ron whispered, “is that you?”
“Ron,” an almost inaudible gasp escaped Hermione’s lips. “I didn’t know anyone was awake,” she responded in a choked whisper.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he responded with a watery chuckle as he rose and crossed the room from a cot she had conjured just hours before to the bed that both he and Harry insisted that she take for the night. He paused for a second before he sat on the edge of her bed.
“It’s just catching up with me I think,” Hermione began as she sat up and rubbed her forehead. She started to cry again, though softer than before. Harry saw Ron pat her awkwardly on the back before Hermione threw herself into his arms. Ron looked momentarily shocked, but then allowed her to ease into him as he wrapped his arms around her and leaned back on the headboard. Hermione sobbed onto Ron’s chest, not unlike several hours before in the broad daylight of the funeral. Ron kissed the top of her head and then whispered to her soothingly, rubbing her back as she continued to tremble.
Harry noted his own eyes had started to burn as he felt a solitary tear slide down his face. A familiar, yet unpleasant, pang hit him in the stomach as he grieved for what was lost. He grieved for the loss of his mentor, for the pain his friends were forced to feel, for what he knew was ahead of them, and for the loss of a certain redhead who refused to leave his conscious mind.
“It’s alright, Hermione,” Ron’s words brought Harry’s mind to the present moment, “It will be alright. I’ll protect you; I’m here for you.”
Hermione’s breathing eased as he spoke.
“I know you will,” she whispered back, snuggling closer to him.
After several long moments, Harry saw Ron shift in Hermione’s bed. “Umm…Hermione?”
“Yes, Ron?”
“Do you want me to…I mean…should I….go?” he managed to sputter.
“Oh!” Hermione started, “I, well, I mean…..would you mind, staying with me……for a few more minutes?” she asked shyly. Harry could almost feel the heat rising from two faces that he was positive were blushing.
“Sure!” Ron responded a little too quickly, while tightening his hold on her.
And, within seconds, Harry noted Hermione’s breathing completely relaxed, and Ron’s unconscious form emitting soft snoring noises.
~*~
“Ron! Wake up!”
“Hmmmmm.”
“I said wake up!”
“Not yet Hermione, I’m tired,” slurred an obviously sleeping Ron as he tugged on the arm wrapped firmly around Hermione’s waist, pulling her closer to him.
Harry was lying silently in his bed. He had been awake only a few minutes before he realized that his friends had spent the night in each other’s arms. He knew it had been completely innocent, but he wanted to give them the opportunity to rearrange themselves before they found out he was awake.
“Ronald!” Hermione hissed. Harry was once again aware of the heat radiating off his friend’s face. “Ronald, wake up and let me go!”
“What?” he replied sleepily as he opened his eyes. “Oh, Hermione,” he started, “I’m…I didn’t mean…..sorry” he finished lamely as he struggled to disentangle himself from her.
“No, it’s not….” Hermione trailed off, blushing furiously, as she tried to explain herself, gently putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder to stop his frantic struggling. “I mean to say, I’m not upset with….well I….It’s just I think we should……reposition…...before Harry wakes up.”
Ron stopped struggling out of the blankets for a moment to look down at Hermione.
“Right. Sorry,” Ron mumbled as he made to return to his own cot, but half way between sitting up he paused, his back to her.
“Hermione?”
“Yes?”
“Just so you know,” Ron was stumbling over his words. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, I just sort of fell asleep,” he finished sheepishly, refusing to look at her.
“No, it was my fault,” Hermione replied hastily. “I asked you to stay, remember,” she finished softly, putting her hand lightly on his forearm.
“I just wouldn’t want you to think…..well…that I’d try to….take advantage,” Ron stated awkwardly.
“I know you’d never do that, Ron,” she replied sincerely, tugging slightly on his forearm to force him to look at her. “Not that I’m saying I wouldn’t enjoy it, on occasion,” she added in an afterthought, a smirk playing on the corners of her lips.
Ron’s jaw dropped.
“I don’t care what they pulled last night! This is not a hotel! They can do the chores he’s assigned to do if they expect to stay in this house!” a voice was bellowing from downstairs and getting closer every second.
Ron jerked away from Hermione suddenly and scrambled back to his own bed as a pounding nearly beat down the door.
Harry got out of bed slowly, taking his time, and opened the door unabashed by the loud awakening he had received and ignoring the embarrassed looks both his friends were trying, unsuccessfully, to hide. The source of all the commotion was of course his uncle, Vernon Dursley.
“Good morning,” Harry stated lazily, stifling a yawn.
“Hmph,” Uncle Vernon seemed to have lost some of his steam now that he was standing in front of his nephew and being glared at by a young witch with a wand already in hand as well a young wizard whose face was contorted with anger. Harry was in the process of deciding whether Ron was angry about the way his uncle had treated him, or the fact that his uncle had ruined a good moment between Hermione and himself, when Uncle Vernon chimed in again.
“The yard needs mowing, the hedges need trimming, and the garden needs weeding. If you expect me to put up with your lot….well, don’t think it gets you out of your chores! We could have shipped you out long before this, should have too in my…” but Harry interrupted him, he thought he should given the enraged looks on the face of both his friends. The last thing they needed was trouble with the Ministry for inappropriate use of magic on a Muggle.
“First, do not speak to any of us that way ever again. I will be an adult in only a month, angering me would not be healthy for you.” Harry started dispassionately, eyeing his uncle head to toe. “Second, I’ll agree to do my chores, as I have for every other summer, but you will not approach us for the rest of my time here. Me doing my chores will be payment for whatever little it is you gave me over the past sixteen years, though it’s probably more than you deserve.” Harry finished with cold indifference and a look that challenged his uncle to disagree.
Uncle Vernon looked like he wanted to retort. Apparently he thought better of it because he sputtered something nonsensical as he trudged down the hall and out of sight.
Harry looked apologetically at his friends.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered, embarrassed.
“No mate, I’m sorry…..” Ron trailed off. “Bloody brilliant speech, though!” he added enthusiastically.
“Well, I’m off to shower,” Hermione stated suddenly, jumping out of bed. “Then I’ll nip off to Diagon Alley for some groceries. I wasn’t looking forward to your aunt’s cooking anyway,” Hermione added, wrinkling her nose.
Harry laughed and got out of bed himself.
“Well, it’s lucky I still have some Galleons left,” Harry said. “Gringotts is one place we’ll definitely have to stop after we,” Harry indicated Ron and himself, “get our Apparition License.”
With that Hermione dashed out of the room only to dash back seconds later mumbling, “I almost forgot.” She ran up to Ron, kissed him quickly on the check and whispered in his ear something that sounded dangerously like, “By the way, thanks for last night,” causing both to blush furiously as Hermione, once again, headed for the showers.
~*~
After breakfast was finished; Hermione cooked up some eggs, ham, bacon, and biscuits that Ron marveled were “as good as mum’s;” Ron decided it was time for a shower as well. While Hermione was helping Harry straighten out his room into a more livable arrangement, as the three of them were to be sharing the room for nearly a month, Harry confronted Hermione.
“So, what did Ron do last night that deserved such thanks?” Harry asked, turning away to make his bed in order to hide the laughter threatening to burst from him.
Hermione blushed a deep crimson before replying, “Well,” Hermione paused, “I suppose I should tell you.” Hermione dropped the old radio she was about to transfigure into a dresser. “Harry, last night, Ron and I…..we sort of…..” Hermione trailed off.
“It’s alright, I already know,” Harry said, sympathy for her embarrassment causing him to stop her from continuing.
“You know?!” Hermione asked looking at him with confusion and shock written all over her face. “But, how?” she spluttered. “You weren’t…..awake….were you?” she cringed at these last words.
“Well, not last night,” Harry decided the whole truth would embarrass her. “But, this morning, I heard you guys waking up. Don’t worry,” he added quickly in response to the worried look on Hermione’s face, “I don’t think anything happened last night.”
“Oh,” relief spread over Hermione’s face. “Well, nothing did happen. We wouldn’t do that to you, Harry,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly.
“Not that, like you, I’d mind if something did,” Harry added with a smirk causing Hermione to blush in remembering her last words to Ron. “Though perhaps not with me in the room,” he added in an afterthought.
Hermione turned a color that would make any Weasley proud as Harry continued, becoming serious.
“I know Ron, and while he might not be as good as you on the feelings stuff, he really cares for you. And, not just in the you’re his-best-friend kind of way,” Harry looked at Hermione, but her eyes were intensely focused somewhere in the vicinity of her left shoe.
“But, then why,” Hermione began in a small voice, still examining her shoe, “why, all of last year…….” she trailed off.
“You know, as well as I do, he never cared for Lavender!” Harry stated with exasperation, causing Hermione’s eyes to meet Harry’s.
“I know he didn’t!” she snapped back. “I thought it was the….well,” Hermione’s voice lost its power, “the…”
“Snogging?” Harry filled in.
Tears were welling in Hermione’s eyes.
“Hermione,” Harry softened his voice and put an arm around his friend, “he was jealous, he’s been jealous for the last three years.”
Hermione wiped a tear from her cheek, “I know that,” she responded in a choked whisper. “But, he shouldn’t be,” she responded in earnest, locking eyes with Harry. “Viktor was…he was someone who took notice, and yes, my first kiss,” Hermione looked down again but Harry didn’t remove his arm. After last year, after how happy he had felt for those few precious weeks, he wanted his friends to have that same happiness - while they still had the time. “But, it was always Ron!” she sobbed. “He just never noticed….” she trailed off sadly.
“Well, I think he noticed, or at least recognized his feelings for you. I’ll bet he just feels……unworthy.”
Hermione looked at Harry like she wanted to argue, but then simply nodded her head. “He’s always been rather stupid about that,” Hermione said with a watery chuckle.
“I think you should tell him, Hermione,” Harry said, locking eyes with her, “while there’s still time.”
“Harry, there are things now, important things, this can wait,” Hermione stared back at Harry, expecting him to agree.
“No,” Harry was shaking his head, “this is important, too. He should know how you feel. It would mean the world to him. And, as Dumbledore would have said, ‘It’s good to have a little more love in this world,’” Harry finished as if that had settled everything.
“What about you?” Hermione countered. “What about Ginny?”
Her name stung him.
“Well, it’s always a different story with me isn’t it,” Harry returned, almost venomously.
“It doesn’t have to be,” Hermione replied in a small voice, touching his hand.
Harry softened. “I’m sorry,” he said, aware of how his sudden change of tone affected his friend. “I’ll think about it,” he added, not really believing that to be true.
“Well, I’ll think about it, too,” Hermione replied softly. “Maybe, the wedding….” but Hermione was cut off.
“Oi, what’s this? I thought you two would have the room done by now?” Ron came traipsing into the room with fresh clothes on, drying his hair with a towel.
“Here let me,” Hermione said, jumping up and pointing her wand at Ron’s head. In an instant his hair was dry.
“Thanks, Hermione!” he stated brightly. “I forgot I could do that now.” She blushed as she turned to continue the transformation of Harry’s room.
~*~
Hermione really was a homemaker. Harry’s room was barely recognizable; she had enlarged the room as a whole and transfigured Harry’s old, battered furniture into comfy replicas of the Gryffindor common room. All three had four-poster beds, though a thin wall now separated Hermione’s bed from the other two; there was a common sitting area (complete with wizard’s chess), and a kitchenette. She also took care of each meal, making Harry eternally grateful that she would be accompanying them after the wedding. Ron completed the chores that Uncle Vernon had outlined so maliciously in a matter of minutes with the swish of his wand. “So, that’s what Muggles have to complain about, huh?” Ron grumbled from the window. “Tell them to try a de-gnoming.” Hermione simply rolled her eyes.
Each day brought them closer to the wedding, and closer to the day their journey would begin. Each day they mused, plotted, and discussed the cup, the locket, the snake, and something of Gryffindor’s or Ravenclaw’s. Each day Harry felt fear creep through him as he remembered Dumblerdore’s careful pondering at the cave, “How am I going to….sense….the magic, as he could?” He was hoping it would come to him when he needed it. Each night Harry tried to sleep, anxious and exhausted. And every night, without fail, that spontaneous redhead would flood his mind with wistful memories and promises never fulfilled.
Tomorrow was his birthday. Three days after that was the wedding. To him, that meant four more days before it all began. To him, that meant four more days of peace with Ron and Hermione.
Harry Potter and the Beginning of the End by Ozma333
Chapter Notes: This is my first fan fic. I would love reviews, especially brutally honest ones! I plan on adding at least one more chapter to this story, but I wanted to know how this one goes first!