Sunday Morning

Ron fumbled out of bed early for once, his growling stomach goading him on. It was about breakfast time in the Great Hall, but he decided to head directly for the kitchens. His plans for this beautiful Sunday morning involved jamming his pockets full with breakfast provisions and a thermos of tea and sprinting directly back to bed.

Goofy smile firmly in place, he hurried down the hallway looking forward to his triumphant return to the Head Girl's room.

###

Turning a blind corner, Ron nearly slammed into a group of younger girls, apparently Hufflepuffs. He smiled winningly, inclined his head and said, "Excuse me, ladies".

The group went completely silent as he skirted around them and continued on his merry way.

Feeling the sudden the pressure of at least ten beady, teenage-girl eyes on his back, Ron paused to look over his shoulder and found that the girls were all still staring at him. Confused and slightly alarmed, he quickened his pace and turned another corner, disappearing from sight to an unsettling outbreak of giggles. Muttering a phrase that involved "bloody" and "mental", Ron flew down the nearest stairwell two steps at a time.

###

By the time he arrived at the ticklish pear, the strange encounter had been forgotten, owing entirely to his state of very near starvation. Ron tickled the pear vigorously and rubbed his hands together in anticipation as the door handle revealed itself. He stepped into the warm, aromatic room and groaned happily, brought back to his senses by a familiar voice.

"Mister Wheezy! Dobby is glad to see you this morning!"

Wrinkling his brow, he regarded the gnarled house elf clad in haphazardly arranged specimens of the brightest colors imaginable, and forced a smile. "Erm. Hullo Dobby. I was wondering if you could help me. I'm going to need..."

Dobby cut him off, nearly bouncing with enthusiasm. "Yes, yes, Mister Wheezy! Dobby is glad to help Harry Potter's friends. Dobby knows you will need plenty of energy this morning!"

Ron considered this statement a moment too long. Dobby continued, "I have it all ready to go for you, sir: tea, tarts and apples for three. Dobby made the tarts especially for Harry Potter to cheer him up."

"Erm, Dobby--How did you know these are for Harry... wait did you say three?

Leaning forward, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper, he said, "Oh, Dobby doesn't mean to pry, sir! But... Mister Wheezy and Harry Potter were not in their beds last night... and... that usually means..."

A migraine was beginning to form just behind the throbbing vein in his temple. Ron lifted a hand to his eyes and said, "Stop there. Please." It was bad enough that Dobby knew what was going on, but at least Dobby's fierce loyalty to Harry would keep them safe. Reminding himself that the situation could be worse, he tried to remain calm. "Erm, Dobby, why does Harry need to be cheered up?"

Dobby wrung his hands, and whispered, "On account of that terrible paper... Saying such things about Harry Potter when it is none of their business."

Ron stopped breathing. The vein was about to explode. "Paper?! Dobby, what paper?"

Backing away, the house elf cringed. "Dobby should not have said that! Dobby has upset Mister Wheezy!" Dobby reached out to take hold of a frying pan and brought it crashing down on his head, sending himself sprawling.

Exasperated and paranoid, Ron lunged forward and pulled the pan from Dobby's grasp. "NO! No, Dobby, please don't - I'm fine, really! Just tell me what paper."

Dobby rubbed the bump on his head with one hand, stretching the other towards Ron. Apologetically, he said, "This one," as the newspaper materialized in his outstretched hand.

A giant, black cloud floated across Ron's conscious mind as he attempted to process what he was seeing. His thoughts came in jumbled words and feelings. He snatched the paper from Dobby and backed towards the door, the horror of what was happening settling fully into his skin.

Ginny. The rest of Gryffindor. The rest of Hogwarts. The whole of the Wizarding World.

His Mum and Dad.

Ron clutched the bulky Sunday edition of the Prophet to his chest and set off at a dead run to escape the kitchens and run back to Hermione's room.

Dobby called after him, "Mister Wheezy!! Your breakfast!!" but Ron was long gone.

###

Running past groups of students at various points on the way, he thought he could hear a faint strain of "Weasley is Our King" from a group of Slytherins as he passed, making him run that much harder. Out of breath upon arrival, he'd had to wheeze the password three times, nearly needing to threaten the elderly gargoyle with bodily harm in order to get in.

As he entered the room still breathing hard, he made directly for the bed and climbed onto the nearest empty space, shaking awake the first tousled sleeper at hand.

"Harry, Harry, wake up, mate! You... I... we... she... bloody hell!"

Not a single coherent phrase seemed capable of making its way past his lips.

Harry smiled indulgently and squinted slightly at Ron, eyes disturbingly small without his glasses. He laid a steadying hand on Ron's chest, trying his best to sound soothing. "Calm down. Whatever it is can't possibly be that bad since the school is still standing and we're all still alive and... oh.... bloody hell..."

Harry's thought trailed off as he began to digest the headline on the front page of The Prophet that Ron was now holding up rather close to his face.

Nearly falling out of the tall bed in a mad scramble to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand, Harry managed to right himself and snatch the paper from Ron's grasp. Ron threw himself face first onto the duvet with a heavy groan. A small, sleepy "oof" came from under the covers next to him and Hermione's hand whipped out, slapping about randomly.

A muffled, sleepily imperious voice accompanied the flailing hand. "Would you mind terribly not impersonating a freight train at this ungodly hour of the morning, Ronald Weasley?"

Harry caught her hand in mid air and pulled Hermione into a sitting position. Face drained of color, he held the paper up for her review, but she shut her eyes and threw herself backwards onto the pillows, groaning, "No. Not today. Today I'm sleeping in. I absolutely refuse to care about whether Lord Bloody Voldemort strolled into the Ministry of Magic wearing a corset and heels--I don't want to know." Her pained expression softened and immediately became a wicked smile as she turned to one side to face Ron (still face down and issuing an occasional groan). Sliding a surreptitious hand up Harry's back, she said, "Unless, of course one or both of you have a better idea that doesn't involve leaving this room for the next... oh, hour or three..."

"Merlin's Balls, Hermione--We'll never be able to leave this room again!" wailed Ron, but from his position buried in bedding, all Hermione could make out was "merrrblehh belsminey whhmnbrmmmgn."

Falling back onto the bed next to Hermione and onto her arm, effectively pinning her in place, Harry reached around her body and slipped The Prophet between her face and Ron's. Harry whispered, "He said, 'we're doomed'".

Her body tensed immediately and Harry was sure he's be deafened or at least concussed by the shrill outburst that followed. "Sweet Circe on a Bloody Unicycle!" Face turning a shade of beet red to rival the brightest of Weasley flushes, she snatched the paper from Harry's grasp with her free hand and did not appear to take a breath before continuing. "Of all the nerve! That filthy cow! That BITCH!"

Ron and Harry both popped up and locked eyes over Hermione's form still twitching with rage, registering identical expressions of shock.

Reacting first, Harry said in the most soothing voice he could, "Hermione, now just calm down--we don't..."

A knock on the door interrupted his train of thought and sent both Ron and Harry flying to their feet. Ron grabbed the cloak from the bedpost and Harry ran to join him in the corner of the room.

Hermione stormed to the door and threw it open, not waiting to see if the boys were properly hidden. "Can I Help You? And This Had Better Be Good."

Lavender shoved her way into the room pushing past Hermione as she moved in and scanned the room briefly, no doubt taking note of the extra clothing and knapsacks strewn about. Parvati followed closely behind, shutting the door and hovering just behind.

"GIVE! GIVE! Details!" Lavender squealed as Parvati reached out and grabbed a handful of Hermione's wild hair, tsking loudly.

Standing straighter and beginning to look very official despite her fluffy kitten pajama top, Hermione growled, "At the risk of appearing rude, you both need to get out of my room, as I do not recall inviting you in and... Oi! Give that here! And get off of my bed and get your paws off of my hair, thank you very much!"

Lavender settled comfortably on Hermione's bed and was spreading the front page of The Prophet open; Parvati had moved behind Hermione and was tugging at her wild mass of brown curls, twisting gently and whispering charms she pretended Hermione couldn't hear. Without looking up from the paper, Lavender smirked and pointed to the picture of Hermione sitting on Harry's lap, locked in a passionate kiss with Ron, who was leaning across Harry, one hand on Hermione's hip, the other on the nape of Harry's neck. Wizarding photo that it was, there was also quite a lot of movement associated with the captured moment.

"Wow. Would you look at this one? This has got to be my favorite. Hermione dear, that had to have been outright sinfully good... Please tell me you've seen it through to a luscious denouement you're dying to tell someone about?"

Leaning over her shoulder, Parvati added, "Good Goddess, Granger; Lav and I were both betting you would die a virgin. Who knew you'd be the one to finally settle the question as to which of the golden Gryffindor boys is... ahem... better equipped for a duel."

Hermione sputtered, opening and closing her mouth. For once, she was at a loss for words, as this was the first time she had been called upon to publicly defend the truth about her love life.

Smiling and showing far too many teeth, Lavender said, "Of course, the headline does leave a little to be desired really, but the article is truly delightful reading. THE BOY WHO LIVED FOR SCANDAL - The sordid love life of four-time winner of the Witch Weekly 'Most Eligible Bachelor' award, exposed by none other than Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter!"

Parvati snickered, taking advantage of Hermione's momentary distraction to add subtle, sparkly highlights to the hair at the crown of her head. She stepped back and frowned slightly at her handiwork before resuming. "As if. I mean, Harry's good-looking enough, and famous, but as far as prospects for the future, this rivalry with You-Know-Who could really get a nice girl killed in a hurry. I mean look what happened to his parents. Oh--no offense Hermione. I'm sure you'll be fine."

Under the cloak, Ron clenched his fists, wishing for any excuse to hex the smirk from one or both of their shallow, smug faces. Harry, feeling an equally strong urge to fling disfigurement curses at Parvati and Lavender, was for once glad that he had left his wand out of reach.

Finally shocked into action, Hermione yanked her tamed and smoothly curled hair out of Parvati's grasp and spun to face her. Face contorted with outrage, she growled, "I would rather kiss a Skrewt than spill my secrets to you. Either of you. The extent of your interest in me for the past seven years has been to arse around with my hair and try and pump me for information to help you get into The Pants of The Boy Who Lived as well as those of His Best Friend, regardless of who either of you was shagging at any given point in time."

Ron and Harry high-fived, forgetting a little of their mutual terror at being exposed.

Lavender shot up from the edge of the bed, mouth open, eyebrows pulled so far up as to nearly meet her hairline; Parvati's smirk had only grown more feral, but Hermione continued her tirade.

"Well, here's some late-breaking news: This is MY hair," she said as she gestured with a handful of sleek, shiny hair, "and I like it this way. Finite Incantatem!" Her hair immediately puffed out and she threw it back over her shoulder. Pointing her open hand towards the corner in which Harry and Ron were hidden, she shouted, "ACCIO CLOAK". The Invisibility Cloak zoomed across the room to her grasp and she threw it aside as well. "And these? These are MY boyfriends. Both. MINE."

Both boys torn between anger and shock and amusement, Harry, clad in only pajama bottoms, shook his head as Ron grinned madly and waved slightly in the girls' direction. Lavender seemed about to faint. Parvati stood her ground.

Hemione had now planted both hands on her hips, exposing far more leg than she had intended, but she was too far gone in her anger to notice. A little more quietly, she added, "And this, the last time I checked was MY room. So get the hell out, go tell whomever you feel like telling whatever you feel like telling them, and make sure to please let the gargoyle bite one or both of you on the arse on the way out. Understand?"

Rolling her eyes and heading towards the door without a look back, Parvati said mockingly, "And this, Hermione, is why you have no friends. See you later."

Lavender smoothed her skirt in an effort to regain her composure. Cocking an eyebrow at Ron and Harry and back at Hermione before following Parvati, she said archly, "Enjoy your morning, gentlemen. Hermione." Linking arms in the doorway, Hermione could see them strolling off in the direction of the Gryffindor common room as the door swung shut.

A strangled scream of frustration was cut off as a pair of strong, wiry arms slipped around her shoulders. Hermione turned and buried her face in Harry's chest and groaned, "Oh my God. Harry, seriously, what are we going to do? That mad cow has single-handedly seen to it that our last few weeks at Hogwarts (and quite possibly the Earth) will be made a living hell."

Harry smiled and said, "Well, that may be, but on the other hand, you are now the envy of an overwhelming majority of the Wizarding world." He flinched as Hermione shoved him hard, but did not stomp away. "What I really want to know is how she got the nerve to publish all this, after her experiences as Hermione's pet."

Ron came up behind Hermione placing one hand on her shoulder, the other holding the paper. "Wait for it-ready?

Harry Potter, AKA the Boy Who Lived, 17 and a seventh-year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has long been romantically linked with friend and classmate, muggle-born Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Head Girl. Recent speculation, however, had increasingly linked Potter with male classmates ranging from best friend Ronald Weasley to notorious and dashing rival Draco Malfoy."

Hermione rolled her eyes, mumbling against Harry's chest, "A rumor started by Malfoy himself, likely." Harry snorted in amusement and Ron continued,

"While in downtown Hogsmeade celebrating her recent registration as only this century's eigth Animagus, this reporter discovered Mr. Potter's secret. Photographic evidence has confirmed that Harry Potter is indeed involved in some kind of obviously romantic relationship with BOTH Hermione Granger AND Ronald Weasley. Details of this shocking and highly unorthodox arrangement are sketchy at the moment, but rest assured that your Daily Prophet will bring them to you as they become available.

Pulling the paper from Ron's grasp, Harry reached out to him in a silent invitation to join a familiar three-sided hug. Hermione said, "I suppose it wasn't the smartest thing to slip out of The Three Broomsticks for a 'breath of fresh air', was it?"

Harry leaned against Ron and grimaced. "No I suppose not. I'm so sorry about this; so sorry to have..."

Ron mumbled, "And now those two are going to march straight into the common room and..."

"Stop. Just stop," Hermione sighed. "It wasn't your idea to begin with, and we were all there. And who cares what those harpies say, anyway. What's done is done anyways, so enough of that, both of you. We'll find some way of dealing with this."

A sharp knock elicited groans from all three. A stern voice sounded from the other side of the door. "Miss Granger! A word please!"

Ron hung his head as he allowed Harry to pull him into the corner again, muttering under his breath, "Bloody hell." His stomach growled loudly, reminding him of the forgotten breakfast. What had started as an excellent Sunday had become a nightmarish ordeal. Except for that bit with Hermione all forceful and leggy and...

A gentle poke in the ribs ended his reverie as the familiar voice went on. Settling back against the wall, Ron pressed one hand to his stomach, pining for his missed meal. Harry slid his arm around him, bringing his lips close to Ron's ear and whispered, "At this rate, we'll be in this corner most of the day."

Slumping against him, Ron laid his head on Harry's shoulder and tried not to make any noise, determined to wait out McGonagall's tirade... a tirade which surprisingly never came, as they watched her whisper with Hermione momentarily, hand her a bundle and see herself out.

Hermione approached them wide-eyed as they emerged from beneath the shimmering cloak. "Dear Merlin. Will someone please Obliviate me?"

Alarmed, Ron and Harry straightened and said simultaneously, "What happened? Why? Are you alright?"

Hermione thrust the bundle at Ron and walked back to her bed and climbed onto it, apparently her turn to faceplant into the duvet.

Ron opened the bundle to find tarts, apples and tea and issued a triumphant "Wicked!"

Confused, Harry pressed on. "Hermione, what the devil is going on?"

Horrified, Hermione rasped, "McGonagall said that it would probably be best if we holed up here for the rest of the day. And then she winked at me and told me to enjoy my Sunday. Muttered something about having 'been there and done that' and 'in this very room' as she walked away."

A moment of silence was followed by an outburst of incredulous, hysterical shared laughter that seemed to go on forever.

Unnoticed by Hermione, her pajama top crept higher and higher, now exposing an edge of sensible, girly knickers. The laughter died down a little as both boys caught each other focusing on the newly revealed flesh. Exchanging a look with Harry, Ron stepped forward and balanced an apple gingerly in the small of her back, and began to roll it gently along her spine, as Harry circled the bed, looking for a safe place to put his glasses.

"Hungry, 'Mione? 'Cos I can think of a few things we can do keep ourselves busy... beginning with breakfast, of course..."