Slow Grenade

Chapter Twenty-One - Year Four

Year Four

It was the summer before Hermione's fourth year at Hogwarts and she was with Ginny at the Burrow. They were laid head to toe on Ginny's small bed, chatting about the holidays and what they were looking forward to most about going back to Hogwarts.

When the redhead skilfully turned the conversation to boys, Hermione started to zone out and gaze around the bedroom. It was tiny, but very cosy, and had an incredible view over the Weasley's wild garden. Whilst Ginny lamented the pink walls she had chosen as a child ("it clashes dreadfully with my hair!"), Hermione felt comforted by its innocence.

Ginny suddenly paused her discussion of who was more dateable, Dean Thomas or Seamus Finnigan, and sat bolt upright. "Something's happening downstairs," she announced.

Hermione couldn't hear anything but nodded anyway; having come from a family of six boys, Ginny had picked up some impressive skills, heightened hearing being one of them.

They both got out of bed, crept down the rickety staircase, and quietly stepped into the kitchen. The two girls beamed as they glimpsed the new arrival and Hermione couldn't help noticing a distinct blush creep into Ginny's cheeks when Harry smiled back at her.

"Tell me what, Arthur?" said Mrs Weasley, in a dangerous sort of voice.

"It's nothing, Molly," mumbled Mr Weasley. "Fred and George just... but I've had words with them."

"What have they done this time? If it's got anything to do with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes – "

Hermione decided this was the point to cut in and save her two friends. "Why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping, Ron?" she suggested.

"He knows where he's sleeping," Ron replied. "In my room, he slept there last –"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione tried again, "We can all go."

"Oh," said Ron, finally cottoning on. "Right."

"Yeah, we'll come too," George chipped in.

"You stay where you are!" snarled Mrs Weasley.

Harry and Ron edged out of the kitchen and the four of them set off along the narrow hallway and headed up the stairs towards Ron's bedroom. It was three floors above Ginny's, right at the top of the house, and yet shouts from the kitchen still echoed up to them.

The only way Hermione could describe Ron's room was, chaotic. Almost every surface was covered in merchandise from his favourite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, which rendered the entire room orange. It was especially cramped as four extra beds had been squeezed into the already small bedroom; all the Weasleys had returned to the Burrow, ready for the Quidditch World Cup final tomorrow.

Everyone was relieved to finally arrive at the campsite the next day, it had been a stressful morning. Mrs Weasley noticed the twins sneaking their new creation, Ton-Tongue Toffees, out of the house and had severely admonished them.

Luckily, the group still made it to the Portkey on time and were now trudging up a misty field between long rows of tents. They had reached the very edge of a wooded area and, here, was an empty space with a small sign hammered into the ground which read 'Weezly'.

"Couldn't have a better spot!" said Mr Weasley happily. "Right, we'll be putting these tents up by hand, no magic allowed! Shouldn't be too difficult... Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"

In the end, Hermione helped Mr Weasley with the poles and pegs and, though he was more of a hindrance than a help because he got thoroughly over-excited when it came to using the mallet, they finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-man tents.