Title: When Time Stands Still.
Author: SantiMonreal
Pairings: Harry, Hermione and Ron.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, published in her books, borrowed by me, to release some of my mind's stress; and more importantly, I'm not making any money off this.
Summary: Harry tries to cope with the phantoms of his past. Ron deals with a future that he couldn't accept. Hermione draws bliss out of the present melancholic world.
A/N:I don't think I can e-mail you guys for this chapter, so I'll just repost it a few days later, I'm too busy; my midterms are this week and the next. Sorry.
Chapter 8:Voyage and Receptions
Ron looked out of his window to the cloudless summer sky. The dry air came in and entered freely into his room. Still tired and bleary from last night's dream, he closed his eyes and stretched his arms as he sat down.
One more day for 'our little prefect' to help mum around the kitchen, Ron thought. Why was it like this? Was he doomed to living his life in the shadow of his brothers? Ron looked on his bedside table. There lay his only outlet from the pressure that was exerted on him from being a Weasley, the notebook where he kept his thoughts.
Ron grasped the tattered notebook in his hands; the spring that held it together was rusting along the edges. The familiar texture of the roughened cover was a comfort to his hands, bringing a tiny smile onto his lips. He always wrote a note to himself when he tired of living to the standard that his brothers set for him. He never told anyone how much he hated it, no one but Harry on that summer's night in the Astronomy Tower.
Flipping through the pages, Ron smiled at how it seemed that every time he would write a new entry it would always be more poetic. Now it even seemed that he copied it off a book, as it was more recently written in the third person. He read silently to himself his most recent entry. Slowly he spoke in a voice that was almost a hiss.
"Regret," he managed to say barely audibly.
"He sits in the floor of his room alone, realizing the greatness of his failure. He tries to hold himself but there he finds no comfort. "The deed is done," he tells himself. The voices of his mentors mock him from his thoughts. There are no words of comfort he can say. All is lost. He looks about his room and sees luxuries that he is unworthy of. The eerie silence of the room brings shivers to his spine that emanate to the rest of his body. In a final breath, he leaps forward and falls to the floor, never to rise again, the blood flowing freely from his wrists."
"Regret," again Ron muttered, sotto voce. He scanned over his sullied penmanship. He always wrote deep when he marked the book, as if to emphasize the asceticism of his feelings. His eyes rested on his notes, yet his mind was elsewhere. He remembered the night he wrote this entry. It wasn't a time that called for such a despondent writing. In fact it called for celebration. He wrote it the night he became a prefect. His mind drabbled, but he managed to catch every word uttered. Why did it say this? He did not know. He only knew that when everyone seemed to be cheerful, although he felt cheerful too that he was prefect, a greater part of him was sad. Sad beyond the saddest moment he had ever encountered. It seemed to warn him of a melancholic journey on which he was heading.
Harry came into his mind; it was Harry that always seemed to understand him. Whenever people saw Harry, they always said how much he looked like James how James was the star of the Quidditch team, how James would always catch the snitch. But then again, Harry never knew James. Ron knew his brothers well, almost too well in fact. Harry did not feel the pressure of having to live up to his father's standard as much as Ron had felt the impact of his brothers lives on his. It was always strive to be the best. That was the cardinal rule with the Weasley's. Harry's lucky, Ron thought, nobody need tell him to play Quidditch; he loved the sport. No one would have to tell Harry how to behave, everybody knew of his parent's demise against the Dark Lord. They felt sorry for Harry. But things were different for Ron, he needed to be strong, he needed to be a prefect. Ron hated the pressure; Harry on the other hand did not feel it.
"If only he was here," Ron caught himself saying. He wanted to speak to his best friend.
"Ron!" Ginny called from the bottom of the stairs, interrupting Ron's reflection. "Mum needs help in the kitchen!" she called to him.
"I'll be there!" Ron called down the stairs taking one look at the mirror. His eyes were misty, His mum and Ginny were in the house with him, but he felt more alone than ever.
* * *
Harry sat uneasily on the Dursley's living room couch. He kept looking at the clock, eleven thirty. Tension was high in the Dursley household. His things had been packed since he awoke. He had checked every nook and cranny of his bedroom three times for any spell books he might leave behind. All his things were at the bottom of the stairs; he couldn't wait to get out of Privet Drive.
"They'll be driving of course?" Uncle Vernon grunted, he was wearing his favorite suit, he held a newspaper over his face, but he wasn't reading it; Harry knew his uncle tried to look as casual as possible.
"Yes," Harry replied uneasily. He wasn't sure whether that had been the truth. He never saw what the Granger's used to pick up Hermione, but he was almost sure Hermione mentioned that they had a car once or twice.
Aunt Petunia was wearing her favorite white dress, and nervously checking the room for any dirt. Dudley was sitting on the couch opposite of Harry, his hair was greased with gel, he kept glancing out the window tensely. Harry knew that they must have looked like a welcoming family to those who didn't know them very well. But Harry knew the Dursley's very well, too well in fact to know that this little show of best clothes and clean living rooms and foyers were just to intimidate those who came to their home.
"Very well we can't have those people magic themselves in here and intrude into our privacy," Uncle Vernon said after a long pause.
"They're dentists!" Harry retorted. "You know, those people who fix your teeth and take care of your oral hygiene." Uncle Vernon snorted, as if saying that witches and dentists were the same thing.
"Maybe so, but people who mingle with people like you are all one and the same! Loons!" he spat back. Harry wanted to say something in return, but he chose to remain silent. A quarter before twelve, a green car pulled on the curb of the Dursley's home. From the untainted windows, Harry recognized the face of Mr. Granger. He rose and rushed to the foyer; the Dursley's followed suit.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as she threw her arms around him. "How have you been?" she asked him. Hermione's brown hair was dancing in the breeze that blew past as Harry opened the door to her. Hermione's smile disappeared when she saw Aunt Petunia smirk at her unapprovingly.
"Good afternoon!" Mrs. Granger called from Hermione's back smiling at Aunt Petunia.
"Good morning," Aunt Petunia answered indifferently, checking her watch. "It's only a quarter before twelve."
"Boy!" Uncle Vernon yelled from Aunt Petunia's side. "Get your things, and be off with the lot!"
"Hermione, why don't you help Harry with his trunk," Mrs. Granger said, clearly shocked at the Dursley's behavior and reception. Clearly Hermione had not told her of how they reacted to anything that deals with their nephew. Harry and Hermione carried his trunk along with a suitcase while Mrs. Granger took Hedwig's cage. Very little was said from the Dursley's door to the Granger's car. Once everything was loaded into the Granger's trunk, which was getting full, as Hermione also had her trunks and books on in the rear end of the space wagon; Harry took his seat beside Hermione behind the Granger's.
"It's so nice to see you Harry!" Mrs. Granger said looking back at them, turning her head. "How has your summer been so far?"
Harry wanted to say that the Dursley's were terrible and that he was more than happy to leave, but he stopped himself. "Nothing much has happened in the past few days," he said.
"So, do you know how to get Ron's house Harry?" Mr. Granger asked him thru the rear view mirror.
"I don't exactly know how to get there," Harry replied, looking to Hermione for answers.
"I have the directions Dad," Hermione called from beside Harry. "I know how to get there, Ron and I discussed this during the last year and again before the vacations," she answered him as if it was tiring her for Mr. Granger asked her ad nauseam.
"He's just teasing you dear," Mrs. Granger told her knowingly.
Harry looked at the houses as they flew past his window; his thoughts of leaving Privet Drive were finally realized. Now the problem was that he couldn't believe he was actually leaving. He kept looking out the window, seeing the cats in the corner, next to the dumpster in the park, the trees that shed their leaves although it was summer. It was quite odd really as Harry saw Hermione beside him. She was there, at his side not at arms length away from him and yet his thoughts took him elsewhere. He thought of the very strange vision he had of Hermione nights before.
"Did you hear from Ron?" Hermione asked him leaning forward. Harry was pulled out of his reflection by the same scent that he had dreamed of, strawberries and roses. He closed his eyes for a moment and re-opened them, to find Hermione still staring at him and awaiting his response. Embarrassed by the awkward moment that had just passed, Harry shook his head furiously.
"No."
Hermione lay back on her seat, her mind obviously wandering. Harry too, looked out of the car's window, counting lampposts as they passed. He saw Hermione look at him with the same expression he saw she had the night of his vision. His face flushed with nervousness. Did she know? he thought. Perhaps she could tell he was thinking of something that was bothering him, from the sweat that formed in his brow or the stolen glances he took of her, that she caught, or the avoidance of her eyes. Can she tell?
Hermione reached forward and put her hand on Harry's leg. Now Harry was certain she noticed how tense he was. His leg nearly kicked when she touched him. He stared at her hand, then at her arm the little blond hairs that that lay there, up to the empty space where the forearm met the upper arm, and on to her lovely formed and delicate shoulders; her hair dangling loosely atop of them. His eyes followed the strands of hair that fell past the clavicle and onto her breasts. Those lovely breasts that he so wanted to hold, to grasp. Then he followed her neck and finally his eyes found their way to hers. She too was watching him, following him as his eyes flowed over her body. Harry looked away; he felt the heat rush to his face, he was humiliated to exploit her like that. Hermione took her hand off Harry's leg.
Harry did not say anything. His face was still a bright crimson from his embarrassment. What the bloody hell was he thinking? Not a word passed between them, they pulled off the high way and were now on a dirt road. Harry again looked out and studied the farmland and vegetation, which seemed to interest him.
"Which way?" Mr. Granger asked as they approached a fork in the road.
"You're supposed to take a left." Hermione replied. "Drive straight, until you see a huge oak on the right, next to a group of evergreens," she continued. Harry looked at her, but still said nothing, he felt awkward to even ask her if they were near. They appeared to be in the middle of a very dense forest. Harry heard the buzzing of the insects as they passed. "There!" Hermione said pointing to a huge oak that the road swerved around.
"I see it dear," Mr. Granger said. "What then?"
"You're supposed to drive into it," Hermione responded.
"Are you sure dear?" Mrs. Granger asked her, looking frightened.
"Yes, it says right here," Hermione said holding out a piece of folded parchment. "'Go through the huge oak' See?" she said handing her mother the parchment. "Wait! We might feel like crashing for a moment but it isn't that, just keep driving Dad, okay?" Hermione told her parents nervously, sounding as though she was not sure if they believed her.
A few years ago this would have been very surprising to Harry, but now it was just another day in the wizarding world. Harry looked out at the oak, which now seemed vaster than ever.
"Hold on to your seats, this might be rough," her father called to them from the front seat. Mrs. Granger had her eyes shut, Harry didn't know why, but Hermione's parent's reaction to the idea of driving into the tree, was making him nervous too. He was sure Ron knew what he was talking about, but it could be possible that this was the wrong tree, as there was many evergreens scattered throughout the woods. Swallowing his shame, he turned to Hermione, who was still looking forward out of the car and at the oak. When she saw him look at her, she turned to him immediately putting her hand in the space between them. Harry was about to ask her if she was sure about the tree, instead he asked her something else.
"Can I hold your hand?" Harry blurted out. He didn't expect to say that, but when he saw Hermione's hand lay there on the seats, he wanted to take it, to caress it, to feel it in his own hand. Hermione smiled nervously, but she said nothing; instead, she took his hand from his lap. Harry didn't know what it was, but something in him relaxed, the fear of crashing was still present, but a greater part of him seemed content with the moment that was present in the Granger's car.
The road was getting rougher; they were feet away from the oak. And then there was a crashing sensation, and it seemed that Harry was pulled from his seat. Mrs. Granger let out a small scream. But as soon as they were no longer in the woods, they were inside what seemed to be a cave. The light was poor in the cave as it came only from the opening, a spec at the mouth of the cave, from the sun outside.
As they reached the end of the cave, Harry was blinded by the sunlight that came from all around them.
"Drive toward the road, Dad," Hermione said as she started looking around too. They were in a field of grass, and somewhere to their right lay a dirt road that led to the village where the Weasley's lived. "We're a little outside the village," She said, "Ottery st. Catchpole. Dad pull off the main road and take a right here, then go straight ahead." Then they saw it, a lopsided sign near the entrance, which read: The Burrow.
Harry looked at the home for the third time in his five years of knowing the Weasley's. It looked like a very roughly cut stone, with several rooms added here and there so that it was now several stories high and so crooked, it looked like it had been held up with magic (which it probably was, Harry thought). Four or five chimneys poked out of the red roof, around the front door, lay a jumble of old rusty cauldrons. Several fat brown chickens were poking around in the front yard.
Harry looked at the top window of the house; he knew it to be Ron's room. He finally took in a deep breath and sighed. Things were going to be better now, he thought.
A/N1: Sorry it took so long for an update, I didn't have much time to write at all, plus my beta went on a vacation, so I waited a little while for her to come back.
A/N2: Midterms are on this week, they lead all the way to the next since most of our exams are practical, they require long periods of taking them. Expect that I upload sooner after the tests...
A/N3: I didn't drop my subjects; you guys made me think and realize a lot of things about college life. Thanks for that.
Acknowledgements:
Jennifer- you're simply the best! Thanks, you're like my confidante, you nothing short of a great person. I'm happy to have you beta me, and happier to ask you for advice. Thanks!
Roxanne- Hi! Yes I noticed that too, and believe me I've debated about it once or twice in my head. But the bottom line is I can't write slash, I don't know how... But there will probably be moments that they are together and comforting each other, just knot slash...
Macy Gray- I hope this chapter answers your question... is it romantic? You're the first person to say that... hehehe.
Steph- Thank you, I try to make the situations as real as possible. I hope this one continues in the same sense...
Odessa- Here's more! I didn't drop them at all, I'm glad I took your advice.
Hpfreak18- It's okay, (I couldn't imagine life without internet) I hope you like this chapter!
Andrian- Thanks! I never thought of it that way before, sweet coming of age. And I do love your published work. I just haven't been able to review it for a while, I'm in school almost twelve hours every day now, But after the midterms, I'll be back to normal...
Sliver- Muchias gracias señor! I hope this chapter answers the questions to your answers...
Milkshake- I hope that it did explain a few things. I really appreciate it when my readers review, and as much as possible I try to write back and answer their queries.
Anon- I didn't quite get that...
Jerome- Thanks man, This has been the longest time it took for me to update. Sorry.
ShyHi- I just did, Although it took a while didn't it? Thanks for reviewing.
Amulet— hi! Thanks for thinking so, this next chapter was actually written a long time ago, I just recently realized that I wasn't able to post it here at FF.net. sorry to all of you guys!
Author: SantiMonreal
Pairings: Harry, Hermione and Ron.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, published in her books, borrowed by me, to release some of my mind's stress; and more importantly, I'm not making any money off this.
Summary: Harry tries to cope with the phantoms of his past. Ron deals with a future that he couldn't accept. Hermione draws bliss out of the present melancholic world.
A/N:I don't think I can e-mail you guys for this chapter, so I'll just repost it a few days later, I'm too busy; my midterms are this week and the next. Sorry.
Chapter 8:Voyage and Receptions
Ron looked out of his window to the cloudless summer sky. The dry air came in and entered freely into his room. Still tired and bleary from last night's dream, he closed his eyes and stretched his arms as he sat down.
One more day for 'our little prefect' to help mum around the kitchen, Ron thought. Why was it like this? Was he doomed to living his life in the shadow of his brothers? Ron looked on his bedside table. There lay his only outlet from the pressure that was exerted on him from being a Weasley, the notebook where he kept his thoughts.
Ron grasped the tattered notebook in his hands; the spring that held it together was rusting along the edges. The familiar texture of the roughened cover was a comfort to his hands, bringing a tiny smile onto his lips. He always wrote a note to himself when he tired of living to the standard that his brothers set for him. He never told anyone how much he hated it, no one but Harry on that summer's night in the Astronomy Tower.
Flipping through the pages, Ron smiled at how it seemed that every time he would write a new entry it would always be more poetic. Now it even seemed that he copied it off a book, as it was more recently written in the third person. He read silently to himself his most recent entry. Slowly he spoke in a voice that was almost a hiss.
"Regret," he managed to say barely audibly.
"He sits in the floor of his room alone, realizing the greatness of his failure. He tries to hold himself but there he finds no comfort. "The deed is done," he tells himself. The voices of his mentors mock him from his thoughts. There are no words of comfort he can say. All is lost. He looks about his room and sees luxuries that he is unworthy of. The eerie silence of the room brings shivers to his spine that emanate to the rest of his body. In a final breath, he leaps forward and falls to the floor, never to rise again, the blood flowing freely from his wrists."
"Regret," again Ron muttered, sotto voce. He scanned over his sullied penmanship. He always wrote deep when he marked the book, as if to emphasize the asceticism of his feelings. His eyes rested on his notes, yet his mind was elsewhere. He remembered the night he wrote this entry. It wasn't a time that called for such a despondent writing. In fact it called for celebration. He wrote it the night he became a prefect. His mind drabbled, but he managed to catch every word uttered. Why did it say this? He did not know. He only knew that when everyone seemed to be cheerful, although he felt cheerful too that he was prefect, a greater part of him was sad. Sad beyond the saddest moment he had ever encountered. It seemed to warn him of a melancholic journey on which he was heading.
Harry came into his mind; it was Harry that always seemed to understand him. Whenever people saw Harry, they always said how much he looked like James how James was the star of the Quidditch team, how James would always catch the snitch. But then again, Harry never knew James. Ron knew his brothers well, almost too well in fact. Harry did not feel the pressure of having to live up to his father's standard as much as Ron had felt the impact of his brothers lives on his. It was always strive to be the best. That was the cardinal rule with the Weasley's. Harry's lucky, Ron thought, nobody need tell him to play Quidditch; he loved the sport. No one would have to tell Harry how to behave, everybody knew of his parent's demise against the Dark Lord. They felt sorry for Harry. But things were different for Ron, he needed to be strong, he needed to be a prefect. Ron hated the pressure; Harry on the other hand did not feel it.
"If only he was here," Ron caught himself saying. He wanted to speak to his best friend.
"Ron!" Ginny called from the bottom of the stairs, interrupting Ron's reflection. "Mum needs help in the kitchen!" she called to him.
"I'll be there!" Ron called down the stairs taking one look at the mirror. His eyes were misty, His mum and Ginny were in the house with him, but he felt more alone than ever.
* * *
Harry sat uneasily on the Dursley's living room couch. He kept looking at the clock, eleven thirty. Tension was high in the Dursley household. His things had been packed since he awoke. He had checked every nook and cranny of his bedroom three times for any spell books he might leave behind. All his things were at the bottom of the stairs; he couldn't wait to get out of Privet Drive.
"They'll be driving of course?" Uncle Vernon grunted, he was wearing his favorite suit, he held a newspaper over his face, but he wasn't reading it; Harry knew his uncle tried to look as casual as possible.
"Yes," Harry replied uneasily. He wasn't sure whether that had been the truth. He never saw what the Granger's used to pick up Hermione, but he was almost sure Hermione mentioned that they had a car once or twice.
Aunt Petunia was wearing her favorite white dress, and nervously checking the room for any dirt. Dudley was sitting on the couch opposite of Harry, his hair was greased with gel, he kept glancing out the window tensely. Harry knew that they must have looked like a welcoming family to those who didn't know them very well. But Harry knew the Dursley's very well, too well in fact to know that this little show of best clothes and clean living rooms and foyers were just to intimidate those who came to their home.
"Very well we can't have those people magic themselves in here and intrude into our privacy," Uncle Vernon said after a long pause.
"They're dentists!" Harry retorted. "You know, those people who fix your teeth and take care of your oral hygiene." Uncle Vernon snorted, as if saying that witches and dentists were the same thing.
"Maybe so, but people who mingle with people like you are all one and the same! Loons!" he spat back. Harry wanted to say something in return, but he chose to remain silent. A quarter before twelve, a green car pulled on the curb of the Dursley's home. From the untainted windows, Harry recognized the face of Mr. Granger. He rose and rushed to the foyer; the Dursley's followed suit.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as she threw her arms around him. "How have you been?" she asked him. Hermione's brown hair was dancing in the breeze that blew past as Harry opened the door to her. Hermione's smile disappeared when she saw Aunt Petunia smirk at her unapprovingly.
"Good afternoon!" Mrs. Granger called from Hermione's back smiling at Aunt Petunia.
"Good morning," Aunt Petunia answered indifferently, checking her watch. "It's only a quarter before twelve."
"Boy!" Uncle Vernon yelled from Aunt Petunia's side. "Get your things, and be off with the lot!"
"Hermione, why don't you help Harry with his trunk," Mrs. Granger said, clearly shocked at the Dursley's behavior and reception. Clearly Hermione had not told her of how they reacted to anything that deals with their nephew. Harry and Hermione carried his trunk along with a suitcase while Mrs. Granger took Hedwig's cage. Very little was said from the Dursley's door to the Granger's car. Once everything was loaded into the Granger's trunk, which was getting full, as Hermione also had her trunks and books on in the rear end of the space wagon; Harry took his seat beside Hermione behind the Granger's.
"It's so nice to see you Harry!" Mrs. Granger said looking back at them, turning her head. "How has your summer been so far?"
Harry wanted to say that the Dursley's were terrible and that he was more than happy to leave, but he stopped himself. "Nothing much has happened in the past few days," he said.
"So, do you know how to get Ron's house Harry?" Mr. Granger asked him thru the rear view mirror.
"I don't exactly know how to get there," Harry replied, looking to Hermione for answers.
"I have the directions Dad," Hermione called from beside Harry. "I know how to get there, Ron and I discussed this during the last year and again before the vacations," she answered him as if it was tiring her for Mr. Granger asked her ad nauseam.
"He's just teasing you dear," Mrs. Granger told her knowingly.
Harry looked at the houses as they flew past his window; his thoughts of leaving Privet Drive were finally realized. Now the problem was that he couldn't believe he was actually leaving. He kept looking out the window, seeing the cats in the corner, next to the dumpster in the park, the trees that shed their leaves although it was summer. It was quite odd really as Harry saw Hermione beside him. She was there, at his side not at arms length away from him and yet his thoughts took him elsewhere. He thought of the very strange vision he had of Hermione nights before.
"Did you hear from Ron?" Hermione asked him leaning forward. Harry was pulled out of his reflection by the same scent that he had dreamed of, strawberries and roses. He closed his eyes for a moment and re-opened them, to find Hermione still staring at him and awaiting his response. Embarrassed by the awkward moment that had just passed, Harry shook his head furiously.
"No."
Hermione lay back on her seat, her mind obviously wandering. Harry too, looked out of the car's window, counting lampposts as they passed. He saw Hermione look at him with the same expression he saw she had the night of his vision. His face flushed with nervousness. Did she know? he thought. Perhaps she could tell he was thinking of something that was bothering him, from the sweat that formed in his brow or the stolen glances he took of her, that she caught, or the avoidance of her eyes. Can she tell?
Hermione reached forward and put her hand on Harry's leg. Now Harry was certain she noticed how tense he was. His leg nearly kicked when she touched him. He stared at her hand, then at her arm the little blond hairs that that lay there, up to the empty space where the forearm met the upper arm, and on to her lovely formed and delicate shoulders; her hair dangling loosely atop of them. His eyes followed the strands of hair that fell past the clavicle and onto her breasts. Those lovely breasts that he so wanted to hold, to grasp. Then he followed her neck and finally his eyes found their way to hers. She too was watching him, following him as his eyes flowed over her body. Harry looked away; he felt the heat rush to his face, he was humiliated to exploit her like that. Hermione took her hand off Harry's leg.
Harry did not say anything. His face was still a bright crimson from his embarrassment. What the bloody hell was he thinking? Not a word passed between them, they pulled off the high way and were now on a dirt road. Harry again looked out and studied the farmland and vegetation, which seemed to interest him.
"Which way?" Mr. Granger asked as they approached a fork in the road.
"You're supposed to take a left." Hermione replied. "Drive straight, until you see a huge oak on the right, next to a group of evergreens," she continued. Harry looked at her, but still said nothing, he felt awkward to even ask her if they were near. They appeared to be in the middle of a very dense forest. Harry heard the buzzing of the insects as they passed. "There!" Hermione said pointing to a huge oak that the road swerved around.
"I see it dear," Mr. Granger said. "What then?"
"You're supposed to drive into it," Hermione responded.
"Are you sure dear?" Mrs. Granger asked her, looking frightened.
"Yes, it says right here," Hermione said holding out a piece of folded parchment. "'Go through the huge oak' See?" she said handing her mother the parchment. "Wait! We might feel like crashing for a moment but it isn't that, just keep driving Dad, okay?" Hermione told her parents nervously, sounding as though she was not sure if they believed her.
A few years ago this would have been very surprising to Harry, but now it was just another day in the wizarding world. Harry looked out at the oak, which now seemed vaster than ever.
"Hold on to your seats, this might be rough," her father called to them from the front seat. Mrs. Granger had her eyes shut, Harry didn't know why, but Hermione's parent's reaction to the idea of driving into the tree, was making him nervous too. He was sure Ron knew what he was talking about, but it could be possible that this was the wrong tree, as there was many evergreens scattered throughout the woods. Swallowing his shame, he turned to Hermione, who was still looking forward out of the car and at the oak. When she saw him look at her, she turned to him immediately putting her hand in the space between them. Harry was about to ask her if she was sure about the tree, instead he asked her something else.
"Can I hold your hand?" Harry blurted out. He didn't expect to say that, but when he saw Hermione's hand lay there on the seats, he wanted to take it, to caress it, to feel it in his own hand. Hermione smiled nervously, but she said nothing; instead, she took his hand from his lap. Harry didn't know what it was, but something in him relaxed, the fear of crashing was still present, but a greater part of him seemed content with the moment that was present in the Granger's car.
The road was getting rougher; they were feet away from the oak. And then there was a crashing sensation, and it seemed that Harry was pulled from his seat. Mrs. Granger let out a small scream. But as soon as they were no longer in the woods, they were inside what seemed to be a cave. The light was poor in the cave as it came only from the opening, a spec at the mouth of the cave, from the sun outside.
As they reached the end of the cave, Harry was blinded by the sunlight that came from all around them.
"Drive toward the road, Dad," Hermione said as she started looking around too. They were in a field of grass, and somewhere to their right lay a dirt road that led to the village where the Weasley's lived. "We're a little outside the village," She said, "Ottery st. Catchpole. Dad pull off the main road and take a right here, then go straight ahead." Then they saw it, a lopsided sign near the entrance, which read: The Burrow.
Harry looked at the home for the third time in his five years of knowing the Weasley's. It looked like a very roughly cut stone, with several rooms added here and there so that it was now several stories high and so crooked, it looked like it had been held up with magic (which it probably was, Harry thought). Four or five chimneys poked out of the red roof, around the front door, lay a jumble of old rusty cauldrons. Several fat brown chickens were poking around in the front yard.
Harry looked at the top window of the house; he knew it to be Ron's room. He finally took in a deep breath and sighed. Things were going to be better now, he thought.
A/N1: Sorry it took so long for an update, I didn't have much time to write at all, plus my beta went on a vacation, so I waited a little while for her to come back.
A/N2: Midterms are on this week, they lead all the way to the next since most of our exams are practical, they require long periods of taking them. Expect that I upload sooner after the tests...
A/N3: I didn't drop my subjects; you guys made me think and realize a lot of things about college life. Thanks for that.
Acknowledgements:
Jennifer- you're simply the best! Thanks, you're like my confidante, you nothing short of a great person. I'm happy to have you beta me, and happier to ask you for advice. Thanks!
Roxanne- Hi! Yes I noticed that too, and believe me I've debated about it once or twice in my head. But the bottom line is I can't write slash, I don't know how... But there will probably be moments that they are together and comforting each other, just knot slash...
Macy Gray- I hope this chapter answers your question... is it romantic? You're the first person to say that... hehehe.
Steph- Thank you, I try to make the situations as real as possible. I hope this one continues in the same sense...
Odessa- Here's more! I didn't drop them at all, I'm glad I took your advice.
Hpfreak18- It's okay, (I couldn't imagine life without internet) I hope you like this chapter!
Andrian- Thanks! I never thought of it that way before, sweet coming of age. And I do love your published work. I just haven't been able to review it for a while, I'm in school almost twelve hours every day now, But after the midterms, I'll be back to normal...
Sliver- Muchias gracias señor! I hope this chapter answers the questions to your answers...
Milkshake- I hope that it did explain a few things. I really appreciate it when my readers review, and as much as possible I try to write back and answer their queries.
Anon- I didn't quite get that...
Jerome- Thanks man, This has been the longest time it took for me to update. Sorry.
ShyHi- I just did, Although it took a while didn't it? Thanks for reviewing.
Amulet— hi! Thanks for thinking so, this next chapter was actually written a long time ago, I just recently realized that I wasn't able to post it here at FF.net. sorry to all of you guys!