Holiday Plans

by Angela

06-09-03

 

Ron was glad to be going home.  The Hogwarts Express jolted and rocked, Pig cooed from beneath his robes, and for the first time since Harry’s name was pulled from that bloody goblet, Ron felt content.  He peered at the others from beneath half-closed eyelids.

 

Harry and the twins were talking--deep in an enthusiastic discussion of next year’s quiddich season.  They were speculating about who would be captain, now that Wood had graduated.  Ron hoped it would be George, but he couldn’t very well say so or Fred would be hurt.  He shook his head, thanking the maker that he hadn’t been born a twin.

 

Hermione was curled up beside him, her shoulder almost brushing his as she flipped through her summer homework.  If she wasn’t careful, she’d finish it all in a week and have nothing else to study all holiday.  Ron wondered if Pigwidgeon could carry such a heavy parcel as all of his books; if Hermione became desperate for Hogwarts work, he would gladly sacrifice his own for her to do.

 

But if she took up Krum’s offer--if she went to Bulgaria--she wouldn’t have time for extra homework.  In fact, it would make sense for her to finish her studies as quickly as possible, to get it out of the way so it wouldn’t interfere with her trip.  Ron suddenly felt sick to his stomach and he regretted the half-dozen chocolate frogs he’d eaten.

 

“Say, Hermoione,” he whispered, praying that the twins and Harry wouldn’t notice him.  “You never did tell--you going to Bulgaria to visit Krum this summer?”

 

Hermione looked up from her book, her expression surprised.  “What?”

 

“Krum.”  Ron tried to keep the impatience from his voice.  “Are you going to visit him over the holiday?”

 

She smiled.  Ron wondered what it was about Viktor Krum that made her eyes shine like that.  “I’ve thought on it,” she replied smoothly.

 

Ron felt even sicker.  “Well, I was thinking,” he began, trying to come up with a suitable counter-offer.  “You and Ginny get on famously, and Mum asks about you all the time, so maybe you’d rather spend some time at my house?”  It didn’t seem good enough.  “I mean, we’ll be having Harry over as soon as Dumbledore says it’s all right, and I thought you might want to come, too.  It’ll be more fun with all three of us, I reckon.”

 

Hermione’s grin widened, and Ron got the distressing feeling that she knew something that he didn’t, that she might even be laughing at him.  He wished he’d kept his big mouth shut--chances were she wasn’t really going to Viktor’s anyway. 

 

“That sounds fun.”  Hermione tucked her book into her bag.  “It gives me something else to think on.”  She petted Crookshanks idly, a faraway look coming into her eyes.  Ron was confused by her goofy smile and the slight blush that touched her cheeks.  Was thinking of Krum that exciting?

 

Pig fluttered in his cage, suddenly letting out a series of wild hoots despite the darkness beneath Ron’s robe.  Ron patted the back of the cage gently, trying to calm the hyperactive owl.  He was startled when his hand encountered skin instead of the smooth fabric of the school robe.

 

Hermione twisted her fingers around his.

 

He looked up at her, completely shocked.  Her head was bowed; for all appearances looking like she was intent on studying the beetle in her jar.  She gave him a sidelong glance, though, and her eyes were smiling.  She squeezed his hand gently.

 

Ron was on fire.  His face, his neck, his ears, his chest--they all felt hot and sweaty all of a sudden, as though someone had cast a heating spell in their compartment.  He glanced at Harry.  He was still wrapped up in his discussion with his brothers.  Good.

 

Their hands were discreetly tucked behind Pig’s cage, so there was no way anyone would know that they were so intimately entwined.  Ron breathed deeply, feeling the flush fade from his face.  This was nice.  Her hand was soft and small and warm. 

 

He leaned back and closed his eyes, suddenly in the mood for another chocolate frog.  He wasn’t going to let go of her hand long enough to find one, though, so he let the notion go.  He was happy enough that his stomach didn’t hurt, that his face was turning back to its normal color.  He was happy enough that Hermione wouldn’t be going to Bulgaria after all.