RP: Molasses

[pb_ron]

Characters: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger.
Date: 3rd of August, 2000
Location(s): Grimmauld Place.
Summary: Ron receives a visitor.
Status/Warning: None.
Completion: Complete.

Comments

[pb_hermione]

The thing with Hermione was that she wasn't a forgetful person. She was a list-maker and a step-by-step kind of girl. Not to say that she wasn't conceptual, but she always functioned far better knowing facts and figures rather than vague generalizations of things to be understood.

So it came as sort of a shock to her when she got home from Harry's party (which, despite certain incidents, had actually been quite lovely) that she'd come home without her sweater.

Though, actually it wasn't the sweater that was the problem, it was what was on the sweater. A pin, small and silver and simple. Draco had given it to her some months back -- one of the many gifts. In all honesty, Hermione shouldn't have cared, told herself she didn't care, but things between them had been on rocky ground ever since she'd moved in. It couldn't simply be "adjusting" could it? Not after this long. And that pin...he'd asked about it last night and she'd made up an excuse before storming out of the room on some pretense

[pb_ron]

"All right, all right..." Ron grumbled, rising from a dusty couch.

He wasn't usually the one to answer the door, unless he had to; he felt odd taking responsibility for the house, especially when the house disliked him so earnestly. It hadn't been as bad as before lately -- honestly, no murder attempts -- but there were moments Ron felt as if the Place were perhaps considering it. Anyway, one could see why he might not want to speak for such a house; but when he was forced to, he did so as was natural.

Which meant swinging the door open with no warning, in some variant of lounge clothes -- a disgusting old shirt and floppy pants -- and though at first it was all with a smile Ron reserved for the usual visitors, this quickly disappeared in recognition of

"Hermione. Um."

Ron's tongue grew surprisingly heavy. He shifted uncomfortably. "Hullo there."

[pb_hermione]

Things usually went this way, as far as they were concerned. Murphy's law and all, though personally Hermione put no such stock in that rubbish. She had been hoping, however, that it would be Harry answering the door instead of Ron. Not that she could ask for Harry, though, her situation being what it was.

She eyed him quickly, taking in the shirt and the loose pants. Not that she'd blame him for not expecting visitors, but Hermione did have this habit of silently judging.

Quickly, she snapped him a grin to defuse the situation. "Hullo, Ron," and promptly invited herself in. Grimmauld had been like a home, once. Almost.

[pb_ron]

Ron attempted a grin, but by the time he managed it she was gone -- into Grimmauld, which hated her more than him by far.

So he followed her. Because there were no pockets to shove his fists into, he scratched the back of his head, crossing his arms with a kind of awkward tilt to the head. He knew it was his job to be civil, at most -- it was the least he could do for Harry, and all that -- but he still didn't see why it was his responsibility to accept her behavior, especially when she was obviously thinking about the urchin he was emulating at the moment, and probably -- if the past few months held true after the apology -- every other thing he'd ever done wrong.

(The event at Harry's party had reminded him of her tendency to do so; Ron wouldn't forget again for at least another few days.)

"Er. You can come in," he finally said, hoping to sound sarcastic. Instead he sounded very late. "What's... What're you doing here?"

A little more accusatory than Ron had meant, actually. "I mean. Since."