Chapter 2: Burrow Times (Hermione)
Dear Silverhawk,
I'm dreaming of rain here. It's unusually hot and dry, even though it's strangely dark. Can't wait until summer is over. And the fall brings loads of rain and cozy days inside with hot butterbeer and relaxing nights curled up by the fire. Is there anything better than that?
Always,
Vinewood
Hermione twisted the twine around Errol's leg, hoping desperately the poor old bird could make it to Silverhawk. That was the only bad part about being at the burrow. It was hard to send owls.
Ron and Harry burst into the room. “Dinner's ready!” They shouted at the same time before pounding recklessly down the stairs. Harry had been depressed all summer. It was nice to see him with a smile on his face. Even with everything going on with You-Know-Who's return, it was hard not to have a smile at the Weasley's. Hermione ran her hand through her tangled hair then followed them to the kitchen in her bare feet, denim shorts and pink tank top. She never dressed like that. It really was a scorcher.
The entire Weasley clan was piled around the kitchen table. Fred and George were already fighting over the crispy fresh baked rolls. Hermione could smell the shepherd's pie and pumpkin pasties before she even saw them.
“This looks great!” shouted Hermione to Mrs. Weasley over the chaos. Hermione took the seat next to Ginny.
“Thanks for letting me borrow Errol,” she said to Ron, a slight heat in her cheeks. She always felt a little...warm when she spoke to Ron.
“Oh, sure,” he said with his mouth full. “Who were you owling?”
Nobody knew about the Secret Owl Post. “Just my mum.”
Ron nodded as he shoved three more bites in his mouth. Nobody enjoyed food as much as Ron Weasley.
“Eat up, eat up, Hermione,” Mrs. Weasley chimed. “ You're skin and bones.” She really wasn't. Hermione was healthy, but Mrs. Weasley always made sure everyone was well-fed... maybe even a little extra fed.
It was ten at night. Hermione was sitting in the candlelit living room with a Potions book open on her lap. She had some studying she wanted to do before term started.
“You should join the game of gobstones upstairs.” Ron flopped down beside her. “You know, studying all the time isn't normal.”
Hermione glanced up at him but didn't say anything. She returned to the chapter on healing potions.
Ron groaned. “People might... I don't know... not give you such a hard time if you didn't always have your nose crammed in a book.”
She slammed the open book down on the coffee table and whipped her head toward Ron. “As hard as this might be for you to believe, I don't study for you Ron Weasley or anybody else. I read and study and work hard for myself. Because I want to. Got it?” Hermione pointed her finger at Ron's chest. He raised his hands in surrender.
“Okay. Okay.” Ron stood and walked upstairs. Hermione pulled the book back into her lap. She had finally admitted it to herself last year. She liked Ron Weasley but she didn't change herself for anyone. Even him.
