Summary: A Ron/Hermione vignette, post-GoF; OotP canon.
Rated: G

 
 

It was a bit like growing up, Ron thought.  Older brothers (stupid git) left home, and then the whole family moved out.

He hated Grimmauld Place.

He lay awake at night, letting it fester, imaging the creaks and groans of the old mansion as he tore it apart, looking for—

He didn't know what.

He hated the house, and the house hated him, and they were very happy, thank-you-very-much.  Just like Fred and George, and how they never had as much fun as when they were picking on Percy.

He spent a week lurking at the top of the staircase, avoiding his family and the adults moving downstairs.  Sirius tried to talk to him a couple of times, but Ron ducked away.  Sirius looked at him and saw Harry, and Ron wasn't in the mood to play that game.

"Your mum said I'd find you here."

Hermione leaned against the staircase, looking up at him, and even the house seemed to draw itself away from her.

Or maybe he was being stupid again.

"What are you doing here, then?"

"I've come to stay.  Dumbledore invited me.  For safety."  She sat down beside him.  "He told my parents it was a special study retreat."

He wondered if they'd have let her come if they'd known the truth.  If even Hermione's picture-perfect parents screamed at their children over the dinner table.

Of course not.  She was an only child.

"How long will you be staying?"

"All summer."

"It's pretty horrible here."  He kicked the crumbling banister.

She smiled, and he was willing to consider the possibility that it was for him.  Just for him.  Not his brothers, not Harry.

Just him.

"It's not so bad," she said.
 
 

end