Hullo, lovelies. I've been updating a bit more than I planned on updating. I was only going to write once this week, and I've already written three times. This will be my fourth. I hope you guys don't mind! I just need to strike while the idea is fresh in my mind. Once again, I get these writing spurts where I do nothing but write. So, I hope you enjoy.
Hermione dropped her gaze from Ron's and wordlessly moved into the kitchen behind Harry. Much to her unfortunate luck, there were only three unoccupied seats, which were all next to the other. Harry was making a beeline for the seat next to Mrs. Weasley, but Hermione cut in front of him and took it before he had the chance to sit down. His eyes were questioning, but Hermione merely shook her head. Harry rolled his eyes and sat next to her, with Ron on the other side. She breathed in gratefully. Her first stroke of luck that day.
There weren't very many people there; just Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny. Kingsley couldn't come 'round much – his duties at the Ministry kept him busy most of the time. Despite the tension between Ron and Hermione, the conversations flew smoothly through the room.
She threw herself into an animated discussion with Mrs. Weasley about how to properly clean a pot with magic, avoiding any interaction otherwise. On the rare occasion that she glanced elsewhere, she saw Ginny sitting quietly, playing with her food. She felt a pang of sympathy for her friend. Harry hadn't said a word to Ginny since Hermione arrived. She wasn't entirely sure he'd been chatty before she got there, either.
She wasn't sure if she should go and comfort her. Ginny hadn't said her usual hello, nor did she look pleased when Hermione had arrived. Hermione didn't have many female friends, but she considered Ginny to be just as good a friend to her as Ron and Harry. It seemed lately that she was losing them all.
Of course, the cause of Ginny's detached attitude had nothing to do with her; it was Harry. She knew and she felt sad, like it was her own fault. She watched Ginny swirl her fork around her plate before she finally looked up. Hermione looked away, unsure if she should instigate a conversation. Instead, she turned back to Mrs. Weasley, listening to the woes of persistent gnomes and gardening problems.
A mere hour after her arrival, everyone was saying goodbye, their stomachs bursting and plates clean. Hermione permitted a very harassed Mrs. Weasley to kiss her on the cheek (a small doxy infestation had been discovered) and hugged Arthur. She looked with uncertainty to either side of her, hoping she'd be able to evade a goodbye to Ron or Ginny. When she thought twice about it, a discussion with Harry may be a bit awkward, so she hurried to the front door without a word to anyone.
Just as she'd thought she'd managed to escape, a hand closed on her shoulder, causing her to squeak and jump about two feet into the air. She had a hard time catching her breath, praying it wasn't Ron.
'Anyone but him.' She thought. 'ANYONE but him. I'd even take Ginny right now.'
The owner of the hand walked around Hermione to where they were facing her. She sighed in relief; it was only Arthur.
"Sorry to frighten you." He said, his face obscured by the night.
She smiled, knowing he couldn't see it.
"Believe me, it's alright. Did you need something, Mr. Weasley?"
He chuckled. "I've told you before; call me Arhur. You're like my daughter." He said fondly.
Hermione's face burned, and was grateful for the cover of night to hide her blush.
"Well, thanks. I consider you family, as well, Arthur." She said, her tone formal.
He didn't speak for several moments. He looked as if he were analyzing her, or at least, that's what it looked like to Hermione in the dark.
"Well," he began slowly. "how… er – how have you been?"
