Official Fine Print: Nope. Not mine. The brainchildren of the mighty pen of JK Rowling. Just playing with them. Honest.
A/N: Oops. Got writing on this one and it just got too unwieldy. I'll post it as two separate chapters, today and probably Saturday. Thanks for reading and all the really awesome & thought provoking reviews. You guys are amazing!
Magic Never Dies
Chapter 6
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The bell tolled during breakfast just two days later. Ron, Harry and Hermione were all eating together; the change in dynamics between the three had actually acted something like an escape valve and they were all a little easier around each other than they had been. Harry hadn't actually been conscious that Ron's sleeping habits were anything other than his true nature shrugging off six years of Hogwarts hours, but it felt oddly right to have him back with them in the mornings. He knew that Hermione and Ron had talked. So far he and Ron had not, at least in so many words. There was lots of very pre-verbal animalistic male ritual behavior going on; Harry was ruefully aware that he'd probably done everything short of actually licking Hermione in front of Ron to get his none too subtle point across, but he'd also allowed himself to be pretty thoroughly pushed around on several occasions that could have gone either way, dutifully doing his belly-up-to-the-big-lion time to keep the peace.
Neither had suggested resuming practice dueling quite yet.
"Owl on the roof." Hermione said absently when it rang a second time, deeply absorbed in a thick, musty copy of Dark Magic Your Mother Never Taught You. She hadn't found anything about horcruxes yet, but it was fascinating reading none the less. Repulsive, but fascinating.
"I'll get it," said Harry, pushing back his chair.
Hermione looked up from her book then and glared at Ron.
"What? He offered, and it's good exercise for him, keep things from stiffening up." Ron told her. "Not everything is supposed to, you know."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll..."
"I can do it, for Merlin's sake, I'm not a cripple or anything. It's fine. You just sit there flaccidly and enjoy the Prophet, Ron. Hey, ready for a little dueling practice this afternoon?" Harry grinned at Ron as he passed on his way to the stairs.
Ron grinned back, "Absolutely. Prepare to be whipped, Oh Chosen One."
"Oh there's a good idea." Hermione muttered, returning to her book. "You'd better not take the roof off, either of you."
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The fact that her tea was stone cold the next time she took a sip alerted Hermione to the passage of time she'd lost to about three chapters. Ron was still engrossed in the Quidditch results but there was no sign of Harry.
She closed her book. "I wonder what's happened to Harry?"
"Owl must have needed a reply," Ron commented unconcernedly.
"I'm going to go check," she decided.
"Call it what you like," said Ron.
"Are you going to be permanently insufferable about this, or is this just a phase?" Hermione asked him.
