A Time to Love

Chapter Five. What Are Friends For?

"Friendship is the hardest thing in the world to explain. It's not something you learn in school. But if you haven't learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven't learned anything."

_ Muhammad Ali

"Honestly, Ron! Don't be so melodramatic. They're only your brothers for Heaven's sakes, not escaped Azkaban prisoners!" Hermione said to him.

They may as well be, he thought. For anything that involved Fred and George, Ron didn't think he was being dramatic enough. Asking them for a favour was like deliberately putting yourself into the lion's den. Unfortunately, he feared she was right. She definitely needed her things and there was nobody else they could ask. Still, the idea made him wish he hadn't eaten breakfast.

"They'll want something in return. And it won't come cheap. In fact, we'll never live it down." He thought of all the possible ways they would think of to torture him. Making him be their personal slave would be high on the list, of that he was sure of.

To his surprise, a small, devious smile played on her lips and he could tell that she was formulating a plan, and a good one at that. She wouldn't lead them wrong; he breathed a sigh of relief.

"You leave that up to me. I'm sure I can find someway to outsmart Fred and George," she said with the same mischievous smile and for a brief moment, Ron pitied them.

"I can't believe that you would trust them. That's not something I would ever do under any circumstances."

"Are you underestimating me?"

"Normally I wouldn't, but this is Fred and George we're talking about. I wouldn't trust them with my middle name, much less a secret as important as this."

She looked at him in surprise. "You have a middle name?"

He was sorry he had even said anything. "Of course I do," he said brusquely.

"Go on then, what is it?" she smiled.

"No bloody way," he said, each word pronounced slowly and clearly so that she wouldn't miss that he didn't want to discuss this. She missed it anyway and pressed on.

"Please tell me! Oh, and don't swear."

He rolled his eyes. "There's nothing wrong with swearing."

She immediately saw through his tactics. "You're trying to change the subject and it's not going to work."

Ron stubbornly set his jaw. "How about this: I'll tell you mine and then you can tell me yours. Deal?"

As much as he didn't want to tell her his middle name, he was instantly curious about hers. The thought had never even crossed his mind that she would have one, until now.

"No problem," she said trouble-free. "As long as you promise to say your name too."

"Fine," he said resignedly.

"Yes!" she said triumphantly. "Ok, mine's is Jane. Now what's yours?"

Hermione Jane Granger. It suited her incredibly well. And it was easy for her to say her name - it was a simple (yet elegant) name. His whole name sounded more like a sneeze than anything else.

She could see him hesitating. "We had a deal, Ron. If you don't tell me, I swear I'll make you regret it for a long time."

He believed her too. How had it come down to this? "Bilius," he whispered so lowly that he was sure she couldn't understand him.

"Ron!" she said in her warning voice.

"What?"

"Oh you know perfectly well 'what'!"

"Well, I kept to the bargain, didn't I? Not my fault you couldn't hear me."

"You miserable prat!" She spat at him.

He grinned and opened his mouth but she stopped him before he could say anything. "And if you dare say it, I'll curse you into oblivion."

He had been; of course, about to say his now trademark line, 'I'm just being honest'. It was funny how they fell into this pattern.

She now turned her back on him and he sighed. As fun as it was to ignite her temper, he had no desire to be ignored for the rest of the day.

"Bilius."

She turned back around and gazed at him in fury. "What did you call me?"

Ron could feel his face heat up. He knew his middle name was dreadful but he had no idea that it was this terrible. "No, that's my middle name; Bilius."

Comprehension dawned on her face. "Oh! Oh, well that's not too bad, Ron. From the way you were exaggerating, I was expecting something really dismal..."

"Bilius sounds pretty dismal to me," he said darkly.

"You're being idiotic, Ron."

"No, I'm just_"

Her eyes flashed. "Don't."

"_telling the bloody truth. Ha! Now who's doing the underestimating?"

She scowled and sent him a whack that left his arm stinging for ten minutes.

***

They spent the day talking, playing chess, and, of course, bickering. He kept asking her for information about her plan but she wouldn't budge. For some reason, that made him really uneasy. Perhaps it was because he liked to know exactly what it was he was getting in to.

That night Fred and George came home for dinner. All throughout the meal, Ron was feeling slightly out of sorts. He could barely concentrate on what his Dad was saying about the Wizengamot wanting to vote him out of office. Considering what Fudge had done to Harry last year, he probably should have paid more attention to the conversation, but he was too nervous to concentrate.

Although he had confidence in Hermione, there were still so many things that could go wrong. They were risking a lot by revealing Hermione to them, but he knew it was worth it to do something for her and to see her smile on his behalf. So right after dinner, he drew in a breath and approached them.

They were in the process of fastening their cloaks when Fred saw him. He nudged his twin and they shared a wicked grin before turning to him. He felt his stomach - as well as a notch of his confidence - drop.

"Look, George! It's our favourite little brother!"

"I'm your only little brother," he grumbled.

"Shame, shame, Little Ronnie. It's obvious you want something; you're in no position to correct your elders," said Fred.

"Hear, hear!" piped in George. "And we also haven't got all night, so out with it."

Here goes nothing. "I need help."

"Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery," smirked George.

He scowled at them. "Not that kind of help. A different kind of help." He couldn't just come out and say that he was hiding his best friend in his room, could he? No, definitely not! "I think it would be better if I showed you."

He saw them exchange sceptical glances. "If you're trying to prank us, you're wasting your time. George and I are virtually unprankable," said Fred.

"The thought has never crossed my mind," he said, rolling his eyes. "And I'm being perfectly serious. Could you please just follow me?" Without waiting for their answer, he began the steep ascent to his room. Eventually he heard footsteps behind him and felt momentarily satisfied.

But when he reached his door, the satisfaction vanished. Ron hoped Hermione's plan was good, because these two were impossible.

Well, here I go, he thought, feeling like he had just signed his own death certificate. He opened the door to his room and there was Hermione, sitting patiently on the bed as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary and she had just simply called for on them for a spot of tea. It seemed that Fred and George hadn't noticed her yet. He ushered them inside and shut the door.

There was a very pregnant pause, followed by two gasps that were almost simultaneous to each other.

"Crikey, Ron! That's Hermione!"

"No kidding," he said sarcastically.

"Do you have any idea how worried everyone is about you?" George asked her incredulously.

"Me?"

"Yes you!" he said. "They're tearing up the whole of England looking for you_."

"_and you were right here under our very noses!" Fred finished for him.

"Everyone's looking for me? But how do they know that I'm missing?"

"Well I would've thought that was obvious," said George. "Mum and Dad keep in touch with your parents and they told them the whole story."

"And what a story it was! George and I never suspected you had it in you. We were quite impressed."

"Which doesn't come easily to us," George assured her. Ron believed them; they had, after all, only just recently accepted him as their brother.

"Just wait until they hear this!" Fred exclaimed.

"No!" said Hermione.

"Don't you get that Hermione doesn't want to be found?" Ron asked them.

"As responsible adults_"

"Responsible my arse! You haven't been - and will never be - responsible a single day in your bloody lives!"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "Don't swear!"

He ignored her. "And that's why you have to help us!"

They both crossed their arms. "And why should we?"

He actually had no idea. This was Hermione's turf now. He turned to her and asked why? with his eyes. He could tell she was gathering herself by the determined look that came to her eyes.

"Because if you don't, I'll spread horrible lies about you and Weasley Wizard Wheezes."

"Ooh! I'm shaking so badly that I think I'm going to pee in my pants."

"Menacing that, Hermione. Terribly menacing. You've certainly turned us into a pile of jelly."

"In the Quibbler," she said. "And people take the Quibbler quite seriously, don't they Ron?"

"Oh, yes!" he said quickly nodding his head vigorously. "Quite seriously."

"Ever since Harry's story was posted there, people read it as religiously as the Daily Prophet."

Fred and George had stopped laughing by now. But Ron could tell that they still weren't yet convinced.

"Fine," Fred said. "We'll give you that. But how do you think to get one of your lies in there?"

This time Hermione gave a quite confident smile and he could tell they had won.

"How do you think Harry's story got in there last time? There's a certain witch who I'm currently holding the strings of. And believe me when I say this, she'll do anything to get me to keep her story."

"You don't mean Rita Skeeter, do you?" George asked incredulously.

Her smile widened. "I sure do."

They were both staring at her as if she had just sprouted two heads.

"You're evil!"

"Not to mention mad!"

"Is that a yes then?" she asked innocently.

Fred sighed. "Can we at least know what we're agreeing to?"

"Oh it's quite simple, really. I just need you to go to my house, pick up my trunk and such, and bring it back here," she said as simply as if she had just asked them to go fetch her a glass of milk.

"WHAT!?!" they said together.

"What's going on up there?" came the shout of Mrs. Weasley.

"Nothing, Mum! Just...playing Exploding Snap," Ron called back down.

"Well, keep it down, then!"

"Yes, Mum!"

But Fred and George still hadn't recovered yet. "Though we admit that we are on the adventurous side_" George started.

"_we don't exactly fancy ourselves ending up in a grave, courtesy of Mum," finished Fred.

"But she doesn't have to find out," Ron argued.

"Oh, she has her ways," Fred said cryptically. "Take it from the masters when we tell you this: she has her ways."

"Quite scary, actually," George said.

"Well, you know what the alternative is," said Hermione in a way that would have been infuriating to Ron if he had been on the receiving line.

"We need to consult," said Fred.

They huddled together and he could hear them conversing in low whispers. One would shake their head every now and then and they were both making hand gestures. George made a funny face before turning back to them and Ron was anxious about what they had to say. He looked to Hermione and saw that her face was impassive. But he knew her well enough to know that she was at least halfway as anxious as he was.

"We've reached a verdict," said George. "Drumroll please." Fred transfigured Ron's chair into a drum and drumsticks. He beat out a long-winded rhythm.

"And you think I'm dramatic?" Ron muttered to her. She rolled her eyes, though he wasn't sure if it was at him or Fred.

"We're going to help you," George finally announced. Fred stopped beating the drum.

"Praise the Lord," Ron muttered sarcastically.

"Just one little problem, though," said Fred.

"My chair is still a drum set?"

Fred waved this away. "No. We don't know where Hermione lives or what her house looks like. And we assume you need us because we're going to apparate there, right?"

"I'll just describe it to you then, right?" said Hermione.

"All right," said George sceptically. "But if we end up in Africa, I'm blaming you."

***

"I'm worried," said Hermione.

"They'll find the way, I'm sure of it," said Ron

She shook her head. "It's not that. I just hope my Mum and Dad aren't home. On Wednesdays, they always stay late at the office and finish up paperwork."

"So we've got nothing to worry about, right?" Ron looked at her face. "Right?"

"Well...not particularly. I just hope their routine didn't change."

Ron saw how pale she had turned and the frown lines that creased upon her brow. He wanted to put the smile back on her face. Or at least ease her anxiety.

"I never thought I'd be saying this, but when it comes to something that needs to be done, Fred and George will do it. Even if they are there, they'll just modify their memories, or something. Everything will be all right, you'll see."

She nodded. "Yes, yes I suppose you're right."

He flashed her a grin. "When aren't I?"

She rolled her eyes. "I think the better question is, when are you?"

He licked his tongue at her and to his utter surprise, she licked hers back at him. That was when he found out Hermione had a small tongue.

"Ooh, frightening. You know, I think I'm starting to rub off on you."

"I think you are too."

They laughed until he saw her face change; just like that, she turned serious.

"Thanks, though. I don't know what I would've done without you," she said, her eyes starting to cloud up with tears.

"Uh - no problem. What are friends for?" Ron was getting worried because it looked like she was about to cry and he knew he didn't handle crying girls very well.

She wiped at her eyes. "Yes, but you've gone above and beyond. I don't know how I can repay you."

You can snog me. That'd be payment enough to last me a lifetime. "Don't be silly, 'Mione. You don't have to do anything for me. You've saved my arse enough times," he said.

"True, but..."

"I think I know what you mean," he said. And he did, too. It wasn't often that Ron and Hermione openly acknowledged their friendship. They both knew that there were bound to be moments filled with emotion like this one. He realised it was generally best to avoids times such as these. Now, however, he harboured a warm fuzzy feeling inside of him. It felt sort of like drinking warm tea after coming in from a frigid snowstorm. He liked being with her. A lot.

This answered his previous question perfectly: Why do I like her? But the answer came quickly: Simply because she was Hermione. And that was more than enough.

***

Ginny's door was opened a crack, just enough for her to see Fred and George carrying a trunk, along with other miscellaneous items, up the stairs. It was their rather loud grunts that had made her peek in the first place. That... and the fact that she was expecting them.

She had seen Ron pull the twins aside earlier this evening and shortly after they went to his room. She knew Hermione was still inside and so this could only mean one thing: Ron was letting the twins know. Oh, how mad that made her! Why not let her in on the secret (even though she already knew it)? Didn't he trust her enough by now to know that she wouldn't tell a soul? Apparently not.

So then, she did the only appropriate thing that could be done in that situation - spied shamelessly. This was her house too and she had every right to know what was going on. And why didn't Hermione try to talk Ron into including her? Bloody bastards. They're probably too busy snogging to do anything else.

And with the help of the Extendible Ears, she had heard everything. Even in her fury, she had to admit that Hermione was resourceful and smart. But obviously not smart enough to tell somebody to put a Silence Charm around the room.

Vengeance, Ginny swore, will be mine.