Harry Potter and the Fifth Year from Hell

Chapter 4:  The Colour of her Dress Robes

“Just do me one favour, okay?  Buy Ron some new dress robes and say they’re from you.”

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Ch. 37

*  *  *

The next day, as Harry and Ron were eating a very unhealthy ice cream lunch at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, Harry recalled that he hadn’t told his friend about Professor Sinistra’s message from Firenze.  Ron was interested.

“‘The child of fire is the father of the storm,’ huh?  Do you think it has anything to do with the fire at Hermione’s house?” 

“I hadn’t thought of that.  So would the ‘child of fire’ be Hermione, then?” Harry asked.  “Hey, if it was, then Firenze predicted the fire before it happened.  Sinistra said ‘the other day.’  Maybe centaurs really can predict the future.”

“Would’ve been nice of him to give her some warning, then,” scowled Ron.  His expression cleared.  “Nah, I’ll bet the ‘child of fire’ is you.”

“How d’you figure?” asked Harry, puzzled.  “I’ve never been in a fire.”  Ron grinned and flicked Harry on the back of his head.

“It’s always about you, Harry.  Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Harry knocked Ron’s Chudley Cannons cap off, and laughed when the wind caught it, and Ron had to leap up after it.

“Just as likely to be you,” called Harry.  “You’re the one with the flaming red head.”

“Hey, I resemble that remark!” said a loud voice just behind Harry.  Harry jumped.

“Yes you do, Fred, and so do I,” said another voice to Harry’s right.  It was George Weasley.  “And a strikingly handsome resemblance it is, too.”  Harry twisted around in his chair.  Sure enough, there were Ginny Weasley, Lee Jordan, and Cassie Jordan approaching them.

Ron hurried back to the table and snatched his ice cream away from Fred, who had sat down and was calmly eating it.

“Get your own, you pig!  Hi, Lee.  Hi, Cassie.”  Ron didn’t bother to greet his brothers or sister.

“Hi, you guys,” said Harry, smiling from Ginny to Cassie to Lee.  “Would you like to join us?”  George had already fallen into the fourth chair at the table, but Harry pulled up chairs for the two girls and Lee snagged one for himself from a nearby table.

“Thanks, Harry,” said Ginny, sitting down with a smile.  “What were you yelling to Ron about his hair?  Was that an insult?”

“It was a compliment,” said Lee, who was sitting backwards on his chair with his chin on his hands, “and so, of course, not true.”  He shrugged apologetically at Ron’s surprised scowl.  “Line from a book.”

“Never mind that,” said Fred.  “Eat up, Ronnie, and let’s go to Madame Malkin’s before Mum sees us.”

“Yeah,” said George, “remember we promised you new dress robes?”

“And I still don’t get why you’re doing that,” said Ron suspiciously,  “or where you’re getting the money.  Besides, how do you know I’ll even need them?”

“They’re on our list again,” said Harry.  “I don’t know why.  I don’t think we’re having the Yule Ball any more.”

Fred and George looked at each other and shook their heads pityingly.  Lee spoke up.

“There’s the End-of-Term Ball, isn’t there?”  He looked sidelong at Ginny and then Harry.  “Even though it’s been cancelled two out of the last three years.” 

Ginny looked down at her feet and Harry frowned.  Last year, all end-of-year celebrations had been cancelled because of Cedric Diggory’s murder.  And two years ago, everything had been cancelled because of the monster of Slytherin and Ginny Weasley’s near-death.

“Don’t forget the Prefects’ Dinner in Hogsmeade,” put in Fred, not the least abashed by the sudden silence.  “Not that any of us will be going to that.”

“Hey, speak for yourself, man,” objected Lee Jordan.  Lee had been made a prefect the previous year.  “I’m looking forward to it.  Second week of school.”

“Yeah, we can’t forget that one,” said George.  “That was Percy’s first date with Penelope.”

Ginny stood up abruptly.  “You better go to the robe shop if you’re going,” she said.  “Come on Cassie, let’s go in Flourish and Blotts.”

“I’ll meet you back at the Cauldron at three o’clock,” said Cassie to her brother, as they left.

“Come ON, lad.”  Fred and George each took one of Ron’s elbows and pulled him up.  Harry and Lee followed.

As he was about to follow them through the doorway, Harry saw Ron stop for a moment, and then move on.  When he got in, Harry immediately saw the reason:  two customers already in the shop, Draco Malfoy and his mother, Narcissa.  Harry had to smile.  While Madam Malkin was wrapping up their purchases, Narcissa Malfoy was holding a length of pale green silk up to her son’s face.

“And this one to line the dress cloak, don’t you think, Draco?  It looks lovely with your eyes.”  Harry sniggered.  He could hear Ron’s derisive snort, but, as usual, the twins were far ahead of them.  Fred minced forward, one hand pressed to each cheek.

“Oh, with the eyes, yes, but what about the skin?” he gushed.  “George, what do you think?”  Narcissa Malfoy stiffened and dropped her hand.  The doting expression disappeared from her face, to be replaced with one of cold disdain.  Draco Malfoy whirled around to face the group, a bright spot of colour on each of his pale cheeks.  George shook his head sadly.

“You’re right, Fred, it makes him look sallow.  Perhaps a nice pink?”

Mrs. Malfoy turned to Madam Malkin and gave her some Galleons, pretending she could not hear Fred or George.  Malfoy looked at the five grinning boys with fury and a hint of fear.  His usual bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere near, and he was badly outnumbered.  A pleasant memory flitted through Harry’s mind of the last time he’d seen Malfoy, lying in the corridor of the Hogwarts Express, unconscious with well-deserved hex marks all over his body.  Satisfied with their teasing, the twins and the Lee moved on to the back of the shop where the dress robes were, but Harry and Ron stood their ground, too cautious to turn their backs on the poisonous Slytherin boy.  He’d tried before to hex Harry from behind.

Malfoy’s mother received her change and turned to leave the shop.  She tossed her head as she passed Ron and Harry.  Her short, beautifully cut blonde hair gleamed as she stepped into the sunlight of the doorway.

“Come, Draco.”

With the three older Gryffindors out of earshot, Malfoy looked more his usual confident self.  He glided after his mother, a smirk appearing on his mouth as he passed the two boys.  Suspicious, they both swivelled to watch him out the door.  Just as he reached it, he stopped and turned, pretending to have been struck by a sudden thought.  He peered around the shop as if puzzled.

“Aren’t you missing somebody?” he asked.  “Where’s the Third Musketeer?  Or does she have another fire to put out right now?”

Harry felt his vision clouding with red rage, but before he could launch himself at Malfoy he felt the wind of Ron’s passing.  Sobering quickly, he converted his rush to a grab for his friend, and managed to catch him by one elbow.

“Let him go, Ron!” he hissed.  “You can’t kill him in front of his mother.”  Ron’s face was purple with anger, but he turned around with a crack of laughter.

“Right, I’ll save it for later then.  Don’t let me forget.”

Madam Malkin came out from behind her counter, her eyes bright with curiosity, but all she said was, “And what can I do for you gentlemen today?”

Ron entered enthusiastically into the search for the perfect dress robes, though he had a hard time choosing a colour.  Madam Malkin tried to help.

“What colour will your young lady be wearing, dear?  You’ll want to harmonize with it.”  Ron’s ears turned red, and he glared at George, who doubled over with laughter.  Harry tried to keep his face blank.

“She wore blue last year, didn’t she, Harry?” asked Fred innocently.  Ron transferred his glare to Fred.  Harry attempted to help his friend out.

“Yeah, I think Padma wore blue,” he said, shrugging.  “But Ron might not be going with her this year.”  Absolutely not, after the way he treated her last time, he thought.  Fred frowned and shook his head reproachfully at Harry.  Then George straightened up, a look of delight crossing his face.

“Here she is, Fred,” he said gleefully.  “Ron can ask her in person.”  Ron spun around toward the front of the shop and his face crimsoned to match his ears.  Harry looked over his shoulder, and saw Hermione approaching.

“Hi,” she said happily.  “I saw Ginny and Cassie next door, and they said you were in here –”  Fred interrupted.

“Hi, Hermione!  What colour are your –”  He broke off as his younger brother assaulted him.

“Shut UP, you prat,” Ron hissed, trying to lift Fred with a fist in the front of his shirt.  “She doesn’t HAVE any anymore, remember?”

For once in his life, Fred looked embarrassed.  Harry, George, and Lee quickly moved to greet Hermione.

“Did you get your parents off okay?” Harry asked her.  She nodded sombrely, and then looked at Fred.  “What were you asking me?”  George spoke up.

“We were just wondering if you managed to save anything from the fire, or if you have to buy all new stuff.”

“I pretty much have to buy everything,” said Hermione.  “My clothes that were in the downstairs laundry room are okay, and my books that were in the garden room.  I lost everything from my bedroom, though.”  She smiled grimly.  “I feel like a first-year again.  I have to buy a new cauldron, and everything.”

“What about your cat?” asked Lee.  He was a big animal lover, always bringing exotic pets to school.  Hermione smiled gratefully at him.

“Crookshanks is fine,” she said.  “He got himself out, somehow.”  She looked at Ron, who let go of Fred and spoke for the first time since Hermione’s arrival.

“I brought him.  He’s in Harry’s room at the Leaky Cauldron.  Want to go see him now?” he asked hopefully.

Hermione looked around the shop.

“Oh, I have so many things I need to buy – ”  She bit her lip and looked from Harry to Ron.  Ron looked somewhat crestfallen.  “But, yeah, sure, let’s go.”  She turned to leave immediately, and Harry and Ron hastened to follow.

“Oh!”  Ron stopped, and turned back to his brothers.  “That dark blue is fine,” he called.  “You’ve got enough measurements, right?” he asked Madam Malkin.

“Well, yes,” she said, puzzled, “but – ”  Ron waved a hand.

“My brothers will take care of it,” he said.  “They’re paying.”

As they left the shop, Harry heard Fred call out, “Oh, that’s gratitude for you!” and George shout, “Be good, kids!”  They didn’t bother to answer.

In front of the shop, Harry was startled to see Mad-Eye Moody, eyeing the passing crowd with an expression of extreme watchfulness.  Hermione stopped beside him.

“I’m going back to the Leaky Cauldron with Harry and Ron, now,” she said.  “I’ll be fine.”

“Not so fast, young lady,” growled Moody.  “I’ll leave you when I deliver you to the Weasleys’, and not a moment before.  You just go on ahead, and I’ll watch your back.”  They set off down the street.  Harry felt ridiculous with Moody stumping behind them glaring at passers-by with his magical eye, but Hermione ignored him.  She reported cheerfully on her activities of the past two days.

“It certainly does make it easier to move, when you have nothing to move,” she said calmly.  “We bought Mum and Dad a few clothes and things, but they’ll buy furniture and dishes when they get there.  “We had to buy new luggage, and toothbrushes, and –”  She trailed off and looked blankly into space for a minute or two, and then recovered herself.  “The hardest thing was the visas – the Azores are a Portuguese possession, of course – and all the people we had to call, and putting the car into storage.  Well, Mum and Dad can do a lot by telephone once they get there.  The main thing is, they’re safe now.”

Harry looked at Ron over Hermione’s head.  Is there something we should be doing for her?  Ron shrugged and looked helpless.  Harry looked back down at Hermione and his face lightened as he saw a wand in the back pocket of her jeans.

“Hey,” he said, “at least they didn’t get your wand.”

“No.”  Hermione pulled out the wand and touched it lovingly.  “I had it with me, of course.”  She peeked mischievously up at Ron.  “As well as all my books for this year – I had them so I could read during the drive.”  Ron rolled his eyes, but refrained from comment.

At the inn, Moody insisted upon following them up the stairs and stationing himself outside Harry’s room door.  The three of them burst into giggles as soon as they were safely inside.

“Constant vigilance!” gasped Hermione.

Ron shook his head in amazement.  “Does he sleep outside your door at night?”  Hermione was overcome with fresh giggles.

“YES!” she said.  “In the Muggle hotel corridor, wrapped in a blanket.  I was so embarrassed.”

Crookshanks came out from under Harry’s bed, and Hermione picked him up and buried her nose in his orange fur.  When she put him gently down on the bed, her eyes were wet.  Ron shuffled his feet.

“How are you, really?” he asked hesitantly.

“Oh, Ron!  Harry!”  She hugged them both in swift succession.  “Oh, it’s so awful!”  She sank down on the bed and pulled the cat into her lap.  Harry and Ron sat on either side of her.

“All my books!  All my school prizes!  And don’t you dare laugh, Ron Weasley!”  Ron raised his hands and shook his head.  Hermione continued.  “My Mum kept everything from when I was a baby, and it’s all gone.  My Dad’s whole record collection –  All my Mum’s plants – ”  She bit her lip, and Ron patted her gingerly on the back.

Harry stuck his hands in his pockets and scowled at the floor.  The same thing had happened to him, of course, though he didn’t remember it.  My whole life gone.  My baby things.  My toys.  My parents.

Harry jumped to his feet.  “We better get started on your shopping,” he said.  “If we’re going to make it to the Burrow by nightfall.”

*

With some difficulty, they did get Hermione’s shopping done.  Harry was glad he and Ron had gone to Gambol and Japes and Quality Quidditch Supplies the day before, because they certainly didn’t have time now.  Mrs. Weasley managed to shepherd them all together in time to return to the Burrow for dinner. 

“After all,” Mrs. Weasley told Hermione consolingly, as they prepared to use the Floo at the Leaky Cauldron, “we have almost a month to come back for anything you’ve forgotten.”

Mrs. Weasley Apparated ahead to the Burrow, while Mad-Eye stayed behind to see them all safely into the fire.  Fred and George went first, carrying Hermione’s new trunk as well as their own bags.  Ginny went next, holding Pigwidgeon, and then Ron, with Harry’s trunk.  Harry touched Hermione’s arm as soon as Ron disappeared.

“So,” he asked quietly, “you decided not to visit Krum?”  Hermione tossed her hair back impatiently.

“When would I have had time to?”  She looked at Harry seriously.  “I had just two goals for this summer – to get my parents out of this somehow, and to do something about you.  If they hadn’t approved the Apparating thing, I was going to try to get you a Portkey that you could carry around all the time.  But this is better.  Anyway, I don’t have time for all that” – she flicked her hand dismissively – “boy, girl stuff.”

“Have you told Ron?” Harry asked.  Hermione looked up at him with alarm.

“Told him what?”

“That you’re not going to Bulgaria.”

“Oh,” she said, relieved.  “No.  He hasn’t asked. 

“Uh, Hermione?”  Harry had to point this out.  “He’s asked about three hundred times.”

Hermione blushed slightly.  “Well, not lately.  Anyway, it should be obvious I don’t have the time.  The Burrow!”  She stepped into the flame, Crookshanks’ basket in her hands.

Harry shook his head ruefully.  While he’d been moping around this summer worrying and feeling sorry for himself, Hermione had set goals.  And by golly, she’s achieved them!  Harry grasped Hedwig’s cage tightly, and threw a pinch of Floo Powder into the fire.

“The Burrow!” he said firmly.

*

If Harry had been happy to find himself at Diagon Alley, it was nothing to the feeling he had stepping out of the kitchen fireplace at the Burrow.  Mrs. Weasley was already creating appetizing smells, and Mr. Weasley was eagerly greeting his returned children (and Harry).  Mad-Eye Moody stumbled out from the fireplace behind Harry, cursing.

“Almost forgot how to use the blasted things,” he grumbled.  “Hah, Weasley.  Well, I’ve got them safely to you.  Your job to take care of them now.”  Mr. Weasley shook hands with the scarred Auror.

“I’ll do my best, Alastor,” he said.  “Thank you for all your help.”

“Oh yes,” said Hermione, fervently shaking Moody’s hand.  “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for my parents and me.  I just wish you were going back to really teach at Hogwarts.”  Moody looked gratified, but shook his head.

“More important things to do now,” he said.  “Anne Weasley will teach you what you need to know.  She’s a good man.”  Hermione giggled.

Moody’s magical eye spun around once more, looking into all the corners of the room, then he saluted and Disapparated.

“What’s the real Moody like?” Ron asked Hermione curiously, as they climbed the stairs with the luggage.  “Is he just like the fake one?”  Hermione pondered.

“Well, he’s funnier,” she said.  “But mostly the same.  He made me tell him everything his impersonator did, and I must say, he seemed to approve of most of it.”

“Even the bouncing ferret?” asked Ron.  Hermione nodded.  “Good man,” said Ron.

“Come on in my room, Hermione,” said Ginny.  “I’m dying to talk to you.”

*

Dinner was wonderful and lively, and the food was as good as ever.  The peace was marred only when Mrs. Weasley asked Hermione about her purchases and Fred expressed great curiosity about her new dress robes and what colour they might be.  Ron limited himself to kicking Fred hard under the table, but Hermione looked speculatively from Fred to Ron.  Harry quickly asked about Percy, who was not present.

“He’s working late,” said Mr. Weasley curtly, looking anxious.  Ginny looked down at her plate.

As they finished, Mrs. Weasley announced that Fred and George would clean up after breakfast every day, Ron and Harry would wash up the lunch dishes, and Ginny and Hermione would do the dinner dishes.  Harry went out on the front porch with Ron, Fred, and George.  The summer sun was still in the sky, but a cool nighttime breeze was rising.  Harry threw himself into the porch swing by Ron, feeling pleasantly stuffed.  Fred and George sat on the two wooden chairs, their feet up on a small circular table.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, George stirred.

“What was that in the robe shop with Malfoy?” he asked.  “Looked like you two snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.”  Ron glowered and set the porch swing swinging hard.

“Yeah,” said Fred.  “Don’t you know you should quit while you’re ahead at a time like that?  Don’t give the little git time to think of something to say.”

Harry sighed.  “He always has something to say.  He said something about the fire.  Was it in The Daily Prophet?”

“It was reported,” said George, “but they didn’t give a name or location.  It just said the family of a Muggle-born Hogwarts student – didn’t even say wizard or witch.”

“Well Malfoy knew it was Hermione,” said Harry.  “I wonder if – ”  He broke off.

“Say it, Harry,” said Ron in a low furious voice.  “You wonder if Malfoy told his father to do it.  I bet he did.”

Fred and George looked unusually grim.

“Should we jump him?” Fred offered.  “Beat the truth out of him?”

Harry looked at Ron.  “There are other things we can try first,” he said, thinking of the Polyjuice Potion they’d used in their second year.  “Less likely to get us expelled.”  Ron sighed, but nodded.

“Hold that thought, though,” Ron said to his brothers.  They fell into silence again.

Ginny and Hermione joined them a few minutes later.  Hermione looked around at the lack of empty chairs, almost as if she expected one of the boys to leap up and gallantly offer her a seat.  Ginny, who had no such illusions about her brothers, plopped down on the edge of the porch steps and leaned against the railing.  Harry smiled at Hermione and patted the bench swing between him and Ron.  There’s enough room if we both scoot over.

Hermione approached, and Ron hastily removed his arm from the back of the swing and pressed himself against the armrest.  Harry had been wrong – it was a tight fit for the three of them.  With dismay, Harry saw Fred sit up with grin and open his mouth to speak.  Surprisingly, George frowned him down, and he subsided.  Ron jumped up.

“Umm, Quidditch anyone?” he asked brightly.  Fred guffawed, and George kicked his foot.  Ginny stood up.

“Yeah,” she said eagerly.  “There was no place to play at Lee’s and Cassie’s.  I’ll go get my broom.”

“Me, too.”  Harry stood up, as did Fred.  George remained seated.

“Bring down mine for me,” he told Fred.  “I want to talk to Hermione for a minute.”  Fred shrugged and went into the house with Ginny.  Ron spun and backed through the doorway, glaring suspiciously at George.  Harry followed him with a sigh.  It looked as if the unnatural lack of argument that had existed between Ron and Hermione all day was about to come to an end.  Oh well, it was too good to last.

Ron did send Fred, Ginny, and Harry to the Quidditch paddock without him, saying he would wait for George, but the two brothers joined them a few minutes later without any signs of discord.  Harry immediately forgot the whole matter and threw himself into the wonder of Quidditch.  Though the sun was just setting, the stars were already out above the high field, screened by tall trees from the village of Ottery St. Catchpole below.  Harry looped wildly around the field a few times, before they settled to a simple scrimmage.  The twins both played Beater, claiming that they needed the practice.  Ron and Ginny made a smooth team as Chasers, and Harry kept the goals.  Harry knew that, despite his spectacular flying ability, he wasn’t all that good as a Chaser – not having grown up with Quidditch left him at a disadvantage in the close coordination needed for offensive plays.  He was a fine Keeper, though –

As they walked back down the hill, tired and happy, a couple of hours later, Ginny suddenly exclaimed, “We should have let Harry play Seeker!  He hasn’t practiced in a lot longer than two weeks.”

“By Jove, she’s right!” exclaimed Fred.  “Harry, how long has it been since you’ve caught a Snitch?”

“Nearly a year,” Harry confessed.  “Since the practices we had last summer after the World Cup.”  The previous school year, all Quidditch games and practices had been cancelled because of the Triwizard Tournament.  Harry had hardly had a chance to fly his broom at all.

The Weasleys were loud in their dismay.

“Tomorrow we’ll throw golf balls for you all day long,” promised Ron.  “Professor Lupin won’t be here for the first lesson until Saturday.”

“Yeah,” said George.  “Don’t worry, we’ll whip you back into shape.”

“Great!” said Harry simply.  He was hot and tired and sweaty, but he could never get too much Quidditch.

When they got down to the Burrow, Ginny went on into the house, but the Weasley boys looked longingly at the dark pond at the back of the garden.

“Shall we?” asked Fred.  The others agreed.  Harry knew this routine from previous visits.  Mr. Weasley kept a part of the pond magically free from lily pads and reeds during the summer for his children to swim in.  They were too old now to really enjoy the two-foot-deep water, but it was wonderful to sit in the pond and cool down after Quidditch. 

Fred and George set down the Quidditch ball case they were carrying between them, dropped their brooms and clubs, stripped off their shirts, trousers, and shoes and dropped into the water with loud sighs of pleasure.  Ron hesitated, looking back at the house.  There was no sign of Hermione or Ginny, so Ron quickly peeled off his shirt, sinking into the water in his jeans.  From the twins’ smothered laughter, Harry guessed that Ron was not usually so modest.  He followed Ron’s example, wearing his own jeans as he sat on the soft sand bottom of the pond.  Just in case.

Harry and Ron were pensive, but the twins soon drew them into a boisterous splashing game.  As they gathered their things to go back to the house, Harry was glad he’d worn his jeans into the water.  Fred and George had to pull their sweaty trousers back on over their wet shorts.  They all carried their stinking shoes, socks, and shirts and dropped them in malodorous heaps beside the back door.

“Mum can hit those with a Cleaning Charm tomorrow,” said Ron lazily.  Harry felt delightfully decadent after all his toiling to help his Aunt Petunia keep house to her spotless standards.  He knew that Mrs. Weasley could do it with just a quick charm, while he and Ron were forbidden to do magic.  Not that I know any Cleaning Charms anyway, thought Harry with a flash of guilt.

*

Ron and the twins kept their promise, hauling Harry out of bed quite early the next morning to go out to the Quidditch field.  Ginny just moaned when they tapped on the door of her room, so they left her.  Harry suspected the two girls had stayed up very late talking.

They gave Harry a good workout, flying about the field and throwing the gold-painted golf balls in random directions with no warning.  Harry laughed out loud as he felt his old skills coming back to him, never letting a ball hit the ground even when all three of them threw at the same time.  After a particularly harrowing dive where he’d caught one of Ron’s throws inches above the grass, Harry looked around the field in puzzlement.  He’d rather expected Hermione and Ginny to join them by this time.  Hermione usually watched their practices, and Ginny either watched or participated.  It wasn’t that Harry wanted admiration; it was just – it took some of the fun out of dangerous moves if he couldn’t look over afterwards and see Hermione trying to hide her horror and Ginny beaming with delight.  Oh, forget it.  Harry soared back into the air to catch another ball.

By the time they got hungry for lunch, the girls still hadn’t made an appearance.  Harry was rolling his shoulders as they trooped down the steep path to the Burrow – he was a little stiff from bending low over his broom all morning.  Suddenly, he ploughed right into Ron, who had stopped in front of him.

“Oof,” said Harry, shoving his glasses back up, and then, “ouch,” as the heavy mass of Fred or George hit him in the back.  “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” said Ron in a muffled voice, bounding down the path at a much faster pace.  Following him, Harry suddenly understood his reaction.  On a blanket spread out by the pond, Hermione and Ginny were lounging in swimsuits.  They had sunglasses over their eyes, a large jug of juice on the grass beside them, and the Weasleys’ radio tuned to a Wizard music station blasting out tunes.

“Excellent!” said Fred, behind him, and the twins slipped around Harry and jogged down the path.  Harry followed more slowly, taking in the scene before him. 

Hermione was sitting, leaning on her hands behind her, and with one knee up.  She was wearing a bright yellow bikini top and denim shorts, and had her hair pulled up into a knot behind her head.  She was incredibly tan all over, Harry thought.  She must have got a lot of sun on her trip.  Ginny, on the other hand, was very pale in a one-piece reddish swimsuit.  She was lying on her stomach with her chin propped up on her hands, talking seriously to Hermione.  Hermione, for once, wasn’t reading, but was listening to Ginny and nodding.

Hermione looked up as Ron got close, but Ron stopped suddenly, and swerved over to the back door steps, where he sat down and glowered, hunched over with his elbows on his knees.  Fred and George swaggered right up to the blanket, grinning broadly at Hermione.

“Hi, girls,” said George buoyantly.  “Are you ready for lunch?”  Hermione sat up straight and turned off the radio.

“Your Mum went to see a friend who just had a baby,” she said.  “She told us to make sandwiches when we got hungry.”

Fred just stood there (grinning like an idiot, thought Harry), but George held out a hand.

“Ready?” he asked.  Hermione put her hand in his, and Fred hurried forward to take her other hand.  Together, they pulled her up and set off for the house, one on either side of her.  Harry couldn’t help looking at Ron, not surprised to see him glowering more fiercely than ever.  Then he turned around to see Ginny up on her knees looking, he thought, rather wistful.  Harry walked closer.

“Err, do you need some help with that stuff?”  Ginny was picking up the radio and the pitcher of juice.  “Here, let me get the blanket.”  Ginny’s face was flushed, maybe from the hot sun.

“Thanks,” she said, not looking at him.  She hurried to the back door ahead of him and he followed, trying not to look at her long, pale-white legs.  Hardly any freckles on them, even.

Harry stopped when he got to the back steps, and looked down at Ron.  He was still sitting hunched over, staring into space with glazed eyes.

“Uh, are you okay?” asked Harry.  Ron nodded.  Harry went on into the kitchen, thinking wryly that Ron would never again forget that Hermione was a girl.

When he got inside, Ginny had put on a loose cotton dress over the red swimsuit and Hermione had pulled on a T-shirt.  Fred and George were putting on a show, making rapid-fire jokes and insisting on making sandwiches for the “guests,” Harry and Hermione.  Having nothing of their own to boast about at the moment, they entertained Hermione with a description of all Harry’s best dives of the morning, illustrated with extravagant hand gestures.  Hermione listened calmly, smiling and eating her sandwich.  Ron finally ventured inside, recovered enough to scoff at the corned beef the others were eating and dig himself out some ham and cheddar cheese.  After they had inhaled a large number of ginger biscuits for dessert, Fred slapped Harry hard on the back.

“You guys hurry up with the cleaning, and let’s get back out to that Quidditch field,” he said.  He turned to Ginny and Hermione.  “You two can sunbathe some more, if you like.”

Ginny widened her eyes at Fred.  “Thank you for the kind permission, Big Brother, but I think I’ll fly with you.  It sounds like you were too easy on Harry this morning.”  Harry groaned, and rose to begin putting away the food.

“I’ll watch you,” said Hermione.  “I’ve got some reading to do, anyway.” 

“Great!” said Fred.

Harry’s workout that afternoon was even more gruelling than the morning one.  Hermione sat with her back to the trunk of one of the trees that edged the paddock and read her Apparition book.  To the twins’ evident disappointment, she kept her T-shirt on, but Ron was distracted and crabby, anyway.  Harry sniggered to himself.  I guess he’s remembering that she has on a bikini top UNDER that shirt.

*

By the time they went to bed that night, Fred and George seemed to have forgotten all about the incident, but Ron was still silent and abstracted.  Harry lay in bed staring up at the dark, feeling his tired back muscles gradually relax and wondering if Ron would say anything.  Finally Harry ventured a comment.

“So, our first Apparition lesson tomorrow.”  Ron grunted.  Harry tried again.

“I still haven’t heard from Hagrid.”  Silence.  Harry gave up and composed himself for sleep.  Just as he was about to drift off, Ron spoke.

“Harry?”

“Hmmn?”

“Do you ever – never mind.”

“What?”

“Umm, do you ever – notice – Hermione?”

Harry smiled, but kept all trace of the smile out of his voice.  “I did today.”

“D’you think that’s sick?”

“Well,” said Harry, choosing his words carefully, “I reckon we can’t help it.”  Ron made a noise of assent and was quiet for a while, then:

“Do you ever – think about doing things with Hermione?

“No,” Harry said firmly.  That was true.  Well, it was at least 99% true.  Anyway, it was definitely the right answer.

Ron was silent.

“Do you?” asked Harry.  Ron cleared his throat and spoke with elaborate casualness.

“Yeah.”

“Well, why don’t you?” said Harry.  “Do them, I mean?”

Ron sat bolt upright on his bed, making a scandalized sound.  “Harry!”

“What?” asked Harry, puzzled.  Oh.  “Ron, I mean the mild ones.  Like, you know, hold her hand or something.”

Ron collapsed back on the bed, suddenly convulsed with laughter. 

“Is that what you have for fantasies, Harry?  Holding hands?”  Harry had nothing to throw and was forced to hit Ron with his pillow to make him stop laughing.

“Shut up, you moron!  What kind of “things” are you thinking of doing, anyway?”  He thought for a moment.  “Wait, I think this is sick.”  Ron said nothing.

After a few minutes, Harry said, seriously again, “So, why don’t you?”

Ron made an impatient sound.  “There’s a big difference between thinking about something and actually doing it.”

Harry didn’t answer.  That’s true, he thought.  But Ron started the conversation again.

“D’you think she’d let me?”

“What?  Hold her hand, or those other things?”  Harry sniggered.  Now it was his turn to get hit with a pillow.

After a few moments of quiet violence, Ron subsided.

“Let’s say hold her hand,” he said quietly.

Yes, thought Harry, she would.  Or at least he thought so; it was hard to really tell with Hermione.  How could he answer this without being disloyal to either of his two best friends?

“Well,” he said cautiously, “I think she’s interested in boys.”

He heard Ron’s fist thump the bed.  “Yeah, Viktor Sodding Krum!”

“Krum’s pretty far away,” Harry ventured.  “She might like something closer.”

Ron snorted derisively.  Harry ventured a bit more.

“I don’t think she put on that swimsuit and went out in the back garden to impress Krum.”  Ron stilled, and then shifted restlessly.

“Probably for Bloody George,” he muttered bitterly.

“I don’t think so,” said Harry, though he didn’t really know.  He added brightly, “Anyway, that would mean she likes redheads, right?”

“Huh!” said Ron.  He was silent for a moment and then burst out, “Or maybe it was for Bloody Hero Potter.”

Harry bit his lip.  “I really don’t think so, Ron.  Anyway” – he cast about for an encouraging slant – “umm, at least that would mean she’s okay with dating her best friends.”

Ron sputtered with reluctant laughter.  Again there was silence for a few minutes.

“Harry,” said Ron sternly, “you’re NOT going to say anything to Hermione about this.”

“No, of course not,” said Harry earnestly, and then he grinned.  “I can just see me: ‘Hermiiiioneeee, Ron liiikes you!’”

“No,” Ron cracked, “It would be: ‘Ron wants to hold your haaaaaand.’”

“Prob’ly I should warn her,” said Harry, snorting.  “Hermione, Ron is a degenerate pervert and he wants to do sick disgusting things with you.”

“Harry?”  Ron wasn’t laughing.

“What?”

“Shut up.”

“Right.”  Harry smiled, and rolled over to go to sleep.

Suddenly Ron sat bolt upright again.  Harry blinked at him sleepily.

“What?”

“I’ve just thought,” said Ron in a steely voice, “If Hermione put on that swimsuit to impress somebody, what the hell do you think Ginny was doing?”

“Uh,” said Harry, “she was probably just keeping Hermione company, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” said Ron.

“Yeah,” said Harry.

*  *  *

Next Chapter:  (Hermione Interlude) The Weasley Curse

What did George talk to Hermione about?  Why was Ginny dying to talk to her?  I yielded to the temptation to do a chapter in Hermione’s POV.