Chapter 3
Harry Potter's eyelids fluttered sleepily against the bright September
sunshine streaming in through the un-curtained window of Ron's room in the
Burrow. He desperately wanted to go back to sleep, but there was an
aggravating tapping noise that was preventing him from doing so. Ron, Harry
knew, slept like a log, so if Harry wanted the noise to stop, he would have
to get up himself. After a going back to sleep a few times, and dreaming he
had woken up, Harry finally sat up and wearily got out of bed, stepping
over Ron, who was lying in a Chudley Cannons sleeping bag on the floor,
having graciously given Harry his bed. Harry sighed; he would much rather
have had his fiancée, Ginny, as his room mate, but he hadn't wanted to risk
the Weasleys' displeasure by asking, so he had resigned himself to staying
in Ron's room, just as he had when they were at school.
When Harry finally reached the window from which the tapping sound was coming, he was surprised to find a rather large, unfamiliar owl perched on the ledge, and tapping its beak on the windowpane. He quickly opened the window, feeling sorry that it had taken him so long to get to there. He untied the two letters that were tied to the owl's leg, and noticed that one was addressed to him, and one to Ron, in a very familiar handwriting: Hermione's. But it couldn't be. Hermione hadn't sent them letters since graduation or a few months after.
"What are you standing there gawking at?" asked Ron, who had finally awoken and was sitting up in his sleeping bag.
Still a little disconcerted by the early hour and by the shock of the possibility of having received a letter from Hermione, Harry made no reply. Instead, he tossed the letter addressed to Ron over to him, and watched as Ron's jaw dropped. Clearly Ron had recognized Hermione's handwriting as easily as Harry himself had.
"What in the world is this about?" asked Ron rhetorically, the expression of shock still very clear on his face.
"Let's open them and see, shall we?" replied Harry, deciding to attempt to keep a sense of humor about the situation. "I've got one too."
Ron and Harry's letters were identical except for whom they were addressed to. They read:
Dear Harry (or Ron),
I really need to talk to you. I'd like to say I'm sorry for not contacting you for the last eight years, but whatever I say will be completely unacceptable to you if you don't hear the whole story. I want to tell you in person, and it really shouldn't be written down anyway, in case this letter is intercepted. Please come to my flat tomorrow, September 15, at eleven a.m. and I'll explain everything. My address is: 45 Camden Place, City of Westminster, London.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
"Well, what do you make of that?" asked Harry calmly, trying to act as if this were an everyday occurrence, in a vain attempt to keep Ron's temper in check. Ron, Harry was fairly sure, had been passionately in love with Hermione, and the severance of her ties with them had clearly devastated him, though Harry knew that Ron would never admit that to anyone. Ron was a very private sensitive person, and Harry was worried about how Ron would take this new development with Hermione.
"What's she playing at?" asked Ron angrily. "She 'needs to talk to us.' Well shouldn't she have thought of that before she took off?"
"Ron, Ron, calm down," Harry urged. "Nothing's going to be solved by getting all hysterical about this. Now please calm down!"
But Ron continued to rant, mockingly: "What does she mean she can 'explain everything'? She better have a really good explanation for me to even consider forgiving her!"
Harry sighed, and tried a direct approach to the situation: "Well, Ron, are you coming with me? It says we're supposed to come on September 15 and that's today."
Ron sat down on the bed, his head in his hands, his body shaking slightly. It was plain to Harry that Ron was truly upset, and who could blame him? Harry would have felt exactly the same way if Ginny hadn't spoken to him in eight years. Still, Harry felt that Ron needed to go, if for no other reason, than to bring some sort of closure to his relationship with Hermione. Harry decided to entice Ron to come along by pointing out that he would be seeing Hermione again.
After much cajoling, Ron agreed to come. The two of them dressed and ate breakfast with the Weasleys. After Harry, afraid of Mrs. Weasley's possible reaction to their going to visit Hermione, the girl who had "hurt her darling Ronniekins," told the Weasleys that they were going sightseeing in muggle London, and that he didn't know when they'd be back, he and Ron started the long walk to the nearest British Rail Station.
Meanwhile.
Hermione paced the tiny sitting room of her house. She paused for a moment by the large windows which opened onto her balcony above the communal garden. She watched the children playing in the playground, and was reminded for the millionth time of Evie, her beloved daughter. What had happened to her? Where was she now? Was she in Voldemort's clutches? No, Hermione would not let herself imagine horrible scenarios where her daughter was imprisoned or tortured or k. NO! she wouldn't think about that.
Hermione sighed and began to wonder about Ron and Harry; would they come? Would they accept her story, as offensive and far-fetched as it would seem? She felt certain that Harry would be angry, after all, Malfoy was his worst enemy, but that he would forgive her in the end. Ron, she had no such assurance about. He would probably fly into a rage, and feel jealous, hurt and betrayed. He was clearly infatuated with her, and she wondered if she herself liked him in a vaguely more than platonic way. Oh, she hated to think that she was causing him such anguish. Well, shouldn't you have thought about that when you deserted him eight years ago? asked the nasty little voice in her head. Well, yes but. Hermione's thoughts were interrupted as the doorbell rang. It was exactly eleven o'clock. Would it be Harry and Ron?
A/N: Cliffie, huh? Sorry for not writing for such along time. Please review, or we can't know if anyone is actually reading the story. Disclaimer: We're not J. K. R. We don't own the rights to this. We're not making any money off of this. Blah, blah. You know. SO DON'T SUE US.
When Harry finally reached the window from which the tapping sound was coming, he was surprised to find a rather large, unfamiliar owl perched on the ledge, and tapping its beak on the windowpane. He quickly opened the window, feeling sorry that it had taken him so long to get to there. He untied the two letters that were tied to the owl's leg, and noticed that one was addressed to him, and one to Ron, in a very familiar handwriting: Hermione's. But it couldn't be. Hermione hadn't sent them letters since graduation or a few months after.
"What are you standing there gawking at?" asked Ron, who had finally awoken and was sitting up in his sleeping bag.
Still a little disconcerted by the early hour and by the shock of the possibility of having received a letter from Hermione, Harry made no reply. Instead, he tossed the letter addressed to Ron over to him, and watched as Ron's jaw dropped. Clearly Ron had recognized Hermione's handwriting as easily as Harry himself had.
"What in the world is this about?" asked Ron rhetorically, the expression of shock still very clear on his face.
"Let's open them and see, shall we?" replied Harry, deciding to attempt to keep a sense of humor about the situation. "I've got one too."
Ron and Harry's letters were identical except for whom they were addressed to. They read:
Dear Harry (or Ron),
I really need to talk to you. I'd like to say I'm sorry for not contacting you for the last eight years, but whatever I say will be completely unacceptable to you if you don't hear the whole story. I want to tell you in person, and it really shouldn't be written down anyway, in case this letter is intercepted. Please come to my flat tomorrow, September 15, at eleven a.m. and I'll explain everything. My address is: 45 Camden Place, City of Westminster, London.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
"Well, what do you make of that?" asked Harry calmly, trying to act as if this were an everyday occurrence, in a vain attempt to keep Ron's temper in check. Ron, Harry was fairly sure, had been passionately in love with Hermione, and the severance of her ties with them had clearly devastated him, though Harry knew that Ron would never admit that to anyone. Ron was a very private sensitive person, and Harry was worried about how Ron would take this new development with Hermione.
"What's she playing at?" asked Ron angrily. "She 'needs to talk to us.' Well shouldn't she have thought of that before she took off?"
"Ron, Ron, calm down," Harry urged. "Nothing's going to be solved by getting all hysterical about this. Now please calm down!"
But Ron continued to rant, mockingly: "What does she mean she can 'explain everything'? She better have a really good explanation for me to even consider forgiving her!"
Harry sighed, and tried a direct approach to the situation: "Well, Ron, are you coming with me? It says we're supposed to come on September 15 and that's today."
Ron sat down on the bed, his head in his hands, his body shaking slightly. It was plain to Harry that Ron was truly upset, and who could blame him? Harry would have felt exactly the same way if Ginny hadn't spoken to him in eight years. Still, Harry felt that Ron needed to go, if for no other reason, than to bring some sort of closure to his relationship with Hermione. Harry decided to entice Ron to come along by pointing out that he would be seeing Hermione again.
After much cajoling, Ron agreed to come. The two of them dressed and ate breakfast with the Weasleys. After Harry, afraid of Mrs. Weasley's possible reaction to their going to visit Hermione, the girl who had "hurt her darling Ronniekins," told the Weasleys that they were going sightseeing in muggle London, and that he didn't know when they'd be back, he and Ron started the long walk to the nearest British Rail Station.
Meanwhile.
Hermione paced the tiny sitting room of her house. She paused for a moment by the large windows which opened onto her balcony above the communal garden. She watched the children playing in the playground, and was reminded for the millionth time of Evie, her beloved daughter. What had happened to her? Where was she now? Was she in Voldemort's clutches? No, Hermione would not let herself imagine horrible scenarios where her daughter was imprisoned or tortured or k. NO! she wouldn't think about that.
Hermione sighed and began to wonder about Ron and Harry; would they come? Would they accept her story, as offensive and far-fetched as it would seem? She felt certain that Harry would be angry, after all, Malfoy was his worst enemy, but that he would forgive her in the end. Ron, she had no such assurance about. He would probably fly into a rage, and feel jealous, hurt and betrayed. He was clearly infatuated with her, and she wondered if she herself liked him in a vaguely more than platonic way. Oh, she hated to think that she was causing him such anguish. Well, shouldn't you have thought about that when you deserted him eight years ago? asked the nasty little voice in her head. Well, yes but. Hermione's thoughts were interrupted as the doorbell rang. It was exactly eleven o'clock. Would it be Harry and Ron?
A/N: Cliffie, huh? Sorry for not writing for such along time. Please review, or we can't know if anyone is actually reading the story. Disclaimer: We're not J. K. R. We don't own the rights to this. We're not making any money off of this. Blah, blah. You know. SO DON'T SUE US.