Dangers Of Living

Chapter 1: Bulgaria and Burrows

"And this is the National Bulgarian Hall of Fame," droned the tour guide. Hermione´s eyes were beginning to glaze over and the girl´s bright yellow blouse and her clashing maroon skirt seemed to blend together as they walked through yet another boring building.

"Hermione, darling, isn´t this exciting? I´m so glad we came," her mother gushed as they climbed the steps. Patricia Granger grabbed her husband´s hand excitedly as they entered the large, imposing, white structure.

"Yes, mother. It´s so educational," Hermione tried to agree, attempting to sound interested. But her tone must have fallen short because her mother´s face fell and she looked disappointed.

"Listen, dear," she started. "I know you wanted to spend more time with Viktor and all, and honestly, he´s a wonderful boy. I just don´t want you getting too close too soon, you understand?" her mother´s face was apologetic and sad-looking and Hermione became irritated. Why did her mother always try to goad her into feeling guilty?

Impatiently, she tried to explain. "It´s not that, Mother. I don´t miss Viktor; he´s off playing Quid- er, practicing. It´s just that this tour is a little boring."

"Hermione," her dad interrupted sharply, stopping the family just before the entrance on the speckled marble steps. "This would be an interesting and educational tour if you let yourself be interested. You spend far too much time mulling over things alone and sending letters to your friends. You need to take you head out of the clouds and come back to Earth, with us normal people."

Hermione was hurt, and she found herself fighting tears. "Excuse me?" she asked.

"I don´t want to sound harsh, Hermione," her father began. Well, he´s miserably failed at that, Hermione thought to herself, biting back the urge to say it out loud. "But you´ve been on another planet this whole summer. I am proud of your abilities, but really, can´t you just be yourself for a moment? Stop worrying about them and spend more time here with us and be normal, if only for the summer."

There was that word again, normal. Did her father mean to imply she wasn´t normal? Hermione looked up to meet his eyes and saw that they were judging her. Ashamed, she broke eye contact and shifted her gaze to her mother, who was standing a step below Mark Granger, wringing her hands worriedly. Sadly, she lowered her gaze to the floor and blinked back tears that were threatening to fall. She couldn´t cry, especially here, in public.

She followed her parents into the building, carefully walking three steps behind them. She was perfectly quiet, silent as her parents chattered meaninglessly as they `oohed´ and `ahhed´ over one picture or another. To Hermione, each picture was blurred as she tried to make the best out of a horrible situation. She was trying to learn, she really was, but couldn´t her own mother see that her only daughter and child was miserable? Hoping for maybe at least a look of compassion, she looked up at her mother. But the image that was presented didn´t soothe her in the least- Her mother was stopped at a portrait of some fat, Bulgarian man, and was laughing giddily at whatever joke her father had cracked to the couple they were standing next to. All of a sudden, her mother´s blush looked too pink and her mascara too dark, and her hair was stiffly sitting on her head as a result of too much hairspray. Hermione choked on air as she drew in a quick breath. Couldn´t her parents see? Couldn´t they tell she wasn´t happy? It wasn´t only about her; she was worried about their safety as well. Why couldn´t they listen? Once again, tears threatened to overwhelm her and she had to turn her gaze sharply back down the mosaic-tiled floors. But she refused to let them moisten her eyes and roll down her cheeks. She knew what was expected of her, and she would try to uphold that as long as she could.

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...I´ve seen Viktor almost every day, but often he is busy with Quidditch. I haven´t been down to the pitch because my parents are so nervous and won´t let me go without them. They take tours often, but completely ignore all the wizarding sites I´ve wanted to visit. I am rather irritated, but I suppose I should be grateful. After all, they were planning a trip to America this year. It´s my fault that I made them go to Bulgaria.

But enough of me, how are you? Are all your siblings all right? Have Fred and George made and new tricks recently? And could you say hi to your parents for me, and tank them for sending me the treats. That was very sweet of them

I know it sounds as if I´m begging for news, and that would absolutely correct. Life is so dull with my parents, and I am so worried about you. About everyone.

How is Ron? He´s still not speaking to me, and I´m not going to owl him anymore. He can be a jealous prat if he likes to; I´m not going to waste myself trying.

And I´m especially worried about Harry. He doesn´t answer any of my questions, when he bothers to write back. And he won´t tell me anything! I´m going crazy with curiosity and worry. I wish he would just open up.

Ginny, I´m sorry to bog you down with all my problems. But you are the only person I can write too about things like this. Imagine me sending this letter to Parvati!

With Love,

Hermione "

Wow, thought Ginny, as she folded up the letter and stored it in a chestnut box on her desk. Hermione sounded so...sad in her letter. She claimed she was having `an absolutely grand time´ in Bulgaria, but sometimes Ginny wondered if that were actually the case.

But as she reflected, almost everyone seemed listless these days. Her father, just this morning had fallen asleep at the breakfast table. Her Mother screamed with surprise, and immediately rushed him upstairs to bed orders "not to get up unless the house was burning down!" Unfortunately, her father was adamant about going to work, and this had set off a huge row. It was loud enough that Molly had put up a silencing charm around the dining room, something she hadn´t done it years. As soon as the spell was cast, the house creaked nervously. Any extra pressure on the house itself, even magical, always threatened to make the walls fall, and it was avoided at all cost. As Ginny reflected, the argument must have been pretty serious if her Mother felt the need to burden the house like that.

In the end, her father ended up taking some homemade pepper-up potion and going to work, albeit a little late. Her mother had stomped off furiously into the kitchen and began slamming pots and pans around, forgetting that breakfast had just been served only an hour ago. Charlie, who had popped in for a visit, escaped to Hogsmeade with Fred and George. Ron quickly made his way outside and Ginny was stuck inside alone, with Percy already on the job. She went upstairs and turned on the WWN, but there was nothing to interest her on there. Just as she was about to die from boredom, an unfamiliar owl flew in trough her bedroom window and dropped of a long letter from Hermione. The letter was postmarked two days ago, and the owl must have gone through quite a journey, coming from Bulgaria. Quickly, she hopped off her bed and ran downstairs to get a saucer of water to soothe the bedraggled message carrier, but when she returned to her room, the owl had already left. She ran to her window to try and call it back, but it didn´t even look back as it flew off towards the sun.

Stuck up post owls, she thought, resignedly setting the saucer down on the floor. Eagerly, she opened up Hermione´s letter, and gasped when she saw there were over two sheets or Muggle notebook paper! She decided to get a snack before delving into a letter this long and popped downstairs for some cookies and milk. She came back up, settled on the floor and began to read.

She had been corresponding with Hermione since the summer before her third year, when they went to the Quidditch World Cup. It was amazing how close two girls could get by just spending a few nights together in a makeshift wizarding tent. Also, Hermione´s company, two gossipy girls and five quarrelsome boys, was lacking. Ginny was her only close friend who was a girl, and she knew better than to take her for granted.

Almost as soon as she had set down the letter, she heard a ruckus coming from downstairs. She glanced at the clock on her wall, and it only read half past two. It wasn´t time for Percy and her father to be home yet, so who was making all that noise?

"George, Fred, tell me now!" she could hear Charlie angrily say to the twins. She descended the last flight of stairs and almost did a double take when she saw what was happening. The fireplace flames were a bright green, indicating that they were under the influence of Floo powder. But that wasn´t unusual, in the Weasley household, someone was almost always coming or going somewhere through a Floo portal. The unusual part was that George was obviously struggling with removing one of many packages from the fireplace. He grunted as he lifted a particularly heavy white box, and immediately another one appeared. She figured Fred must be on the other side, pushing them through.

"Charlie, we would appreciate a little help here," complained George, breathing heavily as he pulled out a brightly wrapped package help together by some blue twine. He threw that package into a growing pile about five meters away from him.

"I´m not helping with anything until you two tell me how in the world you could afford all these purchases. I thought Mum strictly ordered you to put Weasley´s Wizard Wheeze´s out of business," said Charlie obstinately, crossing his arms as he did so.

"Really, Charles Weasley, you should be ashamed, throwing around accusations like that. We would never defy our darling mother," said Fred, carrying one last box and coming through the fireplace at last. "And we haven´t robbed Gringotts or anything."

"So how would you explain all these packages?" demanded Charlie angrily. "Come on, you two, I want an explanation."

"Some people," Fred began, a smirk already playing on his lips. "Have this little thing called money."

He should have seen it coming. Charlie knew the twins could turn any simple question you asked into a bombardment of jokes and mockery. "And when you acquire," George continued, "This foreign little money thing, this enable you to buy...oh what´s the word again, dear brother?"

"I believe the word that you are looking for," said Fred, "Is packages." He did a swooping movement with his arms towards the piles of boxes and parcels next piled precariously next his feet.

Charlie sighed, knowing he had been beat. "Okay, you two don´t have to tell me, as long as you promise it´s nothing illegal." The pair furiously nodded their heads up and down. "But hurry and get these boxes and things into your room and don´t let Mum see them. She´ll go crazy wondering how you got them, and she doesn´t need anything else on her mind right now. The twins agreed and began carrying the packages up the stairs, nodding hello to Ginny and motioning her to `zip her lips.´ Silently, she agreed. She didn´t think Mum could take much more either.

She joined Charlie in the living room. When she entered, he motioned for her to be quiet and still. His hand was cupped to his ear and he appeared to be listening intently. After a while, he asked, "Do you hear that?"

"No," she said, but she also cupped her hand to her ear and soon she thought she heard what Charlie was listening too. "I hear it Charlie! Those creaks and groans!"

"Yes,´" he said seriously, "What are those? It sounds as if the whole house is about to collapse on us!" And suddenly, at the same time, he and Ginny both remembered the spell Molly had used earlier to drown out her and her husbands disagreeing voices. He ran into the dining room, wand extended, and carefully ventured into it. Each step he took seemed to make the floor quake. Ginny stood in the frame of the door and braced herself against it. She watched as Charlie took a deep breath, closed his eyes and pointed his wand towards the wall, which was quaking dangerously. He said "Finite Incantem" very quietly and hastily opened his eyes back up in surprise when the dining room ceiling didn´t collapse on him. He smiled, and asked Ginny if she heard the sounds any more. Once she had reassured him that she didn´t, his smile turned into a grin. He was obviously proud that he had managed to save the house from destruction.

But no sooner did they exit the dining room than did Ron come running inside, crashing into them and sent them flying right back into the rickety room which had just been on the verge of collapse. One second earlier, Bill thought wryly, and that flying tackle would have made the whole house come crashing down atop our heads.

But Ron either didn´t care or didn´t know about the danger his carelessness has almost caused. "I´ve just received a letter from Dumbledore!" he proclaimed loudly, holding up a piece of parchment in his fist triumphantly while disentangling himself from his siblings. "And he says Harry´s allowed to stay!"