This is fluffy now, but later on it will involve lots of action and stuff that's good like that. So anyhow, onto the story.
A/N: Asterisks* are where italics would go.
Come Together: a story of magic.
Seven Years to master it, when in a single moment, you could lose it forever.
Chapter 1
~Ron~
Doodling on my advanced alchemy homework I began to loose myself in the scrolling script on my paper.
"MR. WEASELY! Unless you would like me to read this to the rest of the class, I suggest that you get a new piece of parchment out and start your homework over."screeched Professor Ragon, my alchemy teacher.
"Sorry Professor, I'll do that."
"Thank you." she said, walking away, tapping that stupid little baton of hers.
The bell that rang at the end of each hour brought me abruptly out of my pondering and thoughts of alchemy quickly flew from my head, replaced by thoughts of roast chicken and potatoes with gravy that were awaiting me in a little less than an hour. Walking back to Gryffindor house, I stood in front of the lady in the painting and smiled.
"Swarthy Widow."
"Very good Mr. Weasley!"
I grinned, pushing my robe back, putting my hands in my pockets and stepping into the dormitory, "Thanks!"
I yelled my gratitude as I heard the painting close behind me. It was good to be back for my seventh year, and I was planning to enjoy it. Walking up to the fireplace I set my eyes on a head full of unruly raven hair, and smiled.
"Hello Harry, up to a little study I see." I said, placing my books on a table and going to stand in front of the fire, set under enchantment to burn endlessly.
"Oh, yes, well, you could say that." Harry said, marking his place and closing the book.
"Are you up for a little chess? George was home a few weeks ago and taught me a new maneuver. I've been busting at my seems to use it!"
"Come to think of it, I am up for a game. I accept your challenge!" Harry said, standing to bow lowly.
He looked up at me and we started to laugh and he stood up straight, coming over and patting me on the back, "This is going to be quite a term I should think."
"Yes," I replied, "Quite."
~Hermione~
I walked into the commons area in just enough time to see Harry and Ron standing at opposite ends of a small table, casting humorous glares toward each other.
"Your move," Harry spat, as his bishop shattered Ron's knight.
"Queen to E7, checkmate!" he jumped triumphantly out of his seat and raised his arms high above his head as if he had just, single-handedly won the house cup. His Queen glowed and Harry's king fell to it's small marble death.
"Oh sod off Ron!" Harry said, sitting back in his chair dejectedly, but with a trickle of good humor still in his eye.
"You two will never be able to explain to me, why that barbaric game is still so entertaining, even after seven years." I said, coming over to the table.
"It's the thrill of the hunt." Ron said, sweeping his arm over the board.
"And the strategy, it's amazingly exciting, it's very intellectual really." Harry explained.
"You should love it!" Ron smiled, throwing his arm around my shoulder.
Surprised at the gesture, I shivered and blood seeped to the surface of my skin giving my face a pink glow. I had been so confused about a lot of things when the term started, but there was one thing I wasn't terribly confused about and that was the feeling I got every time Ron was near me. He was so different this year, so more confident and so good looking. He had grown much taller than me during the summer break, his hair was a little darker and cut short into a thick, silky crew. His shoulders had filled out and he had grown perfectly into his big sparkling eyes and brilliant, crooked smile. He still had big clumsy hands and feet that he was eternally tripping over, but somehow, he had even grown into his clumsiness. He had matured and calmed himself over the years and he'd been turned from a wiry, carrot topped boy to a solid, handsome, good hearted man. Now, you'd think, having figured all of that out in the few short weeks back at Hogwarts that I couldn't possibly be confused, but alas, it weren't my feelings that I was confused about, it was his. He was being very physical lately, standing close to me and touching my hands and face whenever it seemed acceptable. He would smile at me for no reason and he was always concerned about my well-being. Maybe I was trying to get what I wanted out of his friendly behavior, but it seemed to me that he was making some very peculiar and unnecessary strides to be close to me. And it made me feel brilliantly warm inside at every touch, every smile, and every extra look that he wasted so carelessly on me, like sunlight on a warm day. The feeling was wonderful. But I still couldn't help the feeling that I was a little girl with a crush on a strapping, older man. It was dreadful.
"We'd better get to studying, need to keep those marks up." I said, changing the subject and tearing my eyes away from his face.
"Just like yourself," Ron joked, "All studying and no fun, I guess that's what it takes to be Head Girl."
And I don't know what came over me, but his comment was like a dagger in me. Was that all that he thought of me? Good old Hermione, the brain who never likes to have a little fun once in a while. I don't know why, but I turned to Ron with fire in my eyes.
"Is that all I am to everyone!? Hermione, stuffy, old, bookworm Hermione! Well if that is all you think of me after all these years, Ron Weasley, I would think you simply a dull, mischievous little boy who has quite a bit to learn about his friends!" And with that I turned on my heel, and stalked up the steps and into my room, slamming the door behind me. I walked over to my bed and collapsed on it, furious, and called my diary..
"Come book, up to me." The book, which I had bewitched more than two years before, levitated over to my bed and flopped itself in front of me, opened, and flipped to a clean page.
"Dear Diary, I've had another silly encounter with him. Oh it was awful this time......."
~Ron~
Stunned and with injured pride I turned around and walked out of the commons area, pushing the painting open and stalking down the hall.
"Ron, RON, *RON*!!!!!!" I heard Harry calling to me, but I refused to turn around, red heads have tempers, it's a proven fact.
"Ron!" Harry said, grabbing my shoulder and spinning me around so that I was facing him. He stared squarely into my eyes with all the determination that a good best friend should have in situations as hostile as these.
"What *is* it Harry? You know, I didn't *do* anything and I don't really need both of you-"
"Can you listen to me for once in your bloody life?!" Harry screamed, using as much strength as he would allow himself, to push me harshly against the wall, taking a forceful step toward me.
We stared at each other in one of those defining moments that every long friendship goes through. It's like the biggest game of cat and mouse ever played between two men. The goal of the game being, of course, to break down the other's defenses on the principle that you are right and they need to come over to your way of thinking. Knowing, from the moment the face off began that I wouldn't win, it didn't take me very long to break eye contact and surrender to his logic.
"Fine Harry, you win."
"Thank you. Now, I *know* that you didn't deserve that, but did it ever occur to you that her temperament might be the root of something deeper?"
"Deeper than what exactly, because all that it's the root of at this point, is *my anger*." I leaned against the wall and shoved my hands in my pockets.
"Will you listen to yourself? You need to step out of your coming-of-age crisis and realize that there is *something* bothering her. We need to find out what it is and whatever it is, you seem to be the cause of it." Harry said, poking his finger at me with every word.
"Well, we need to figure *something* out because she's driving me over the damned edge." I said.
"From what I heard, she has been treating everyone like this, but you do get the worst of it I'm sure. I can't even remember the last time the three of us were together and she didn't yell at one of us." Harry said, taking a step away from me and crossing his arms, his brow wrinkled and scar pink with frustration.
"I guess I should *talk* to her shouldn't I." I said, scowling at the thought. I hated apologizing weather I'm first or last, justified or not, I simply hate admitting that I'm wrong, although I would never say that aloud. There are only three people in this whole world who can make me apologize first: Dumbledore, because no one is too dim-witted to deny a request from him, My mother, who's apple tarts and deafening screech could make you do just about anything, and last but far from least, Hermione, because staying mad at her is far more trouble than it's worth and furthermore, I can't stand not being able to tell Hermione things, she always has the most clever answers.
"I think that could very well be the best idea you have ever had." Harry said, clapping his hand on my shoulder as we began to walk back to the Gyffindor common room.
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