Hermione didn't actually have a valid excuse for sending Ron upstairs on a random errand. Mostly his "help" was getting him far to close to where she'd stashed her Christmas gift to him. While he was gone she'd found a new place to hide it in the hopes that it would remain a surprise until Christmas morning.
It had been a very long time since she'd been able to put much of anything under a tree. Too long. The last Christmas present she remembered giving him was the year before Harry had... back before the battle at Malfoy Manor. But with Luna's addition to the house, a welcome delight to the normal sombre surroundings, Hermione now had the chance.
She was reading comfortably (and maybe a little guiltily, as she had misled him when she'd sent him off) when he'd come back. His Quidditch magazine was sitting on the sofa. Then things happened quickly. He shoved the journal, her journal at her, his tone of voice speaking more than the question itself. Anger crept up over her shoulders suddenly and she snatched the journal from his hands, barely glancing at, but indeed catching which entry it was.
It had been a very long time since she'd been able to put much of anything under a tree. Too long. The last Christmas present she remembered giving him was the year before Harry had... back before the battle at Malfoy Manor. But with Luna's addition to the house, a welcome delight to the normal sombre surroundings, Hermione now had the chance.
She was reading comfortably (and maybe a little guiltily, as she had misled him when she'd sent him off) when he'd come back. His Quidditch magazine was sitting on the sofa. Then things happened quickly. He shoved the journal, her journal at her, his tone of voice speaking more than the question itself. Anger crept up over her shoulders suddenly and she snatched the journal from his hands, barely glancing at, but indeed catching which entry it was.
"You read this?"
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