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_hermione]

She hadn't expected Ron to figure it out this quickly. Hadn't given him that much credit, though by the look on his face when he realized that the pin belonged to Draco, she wished she had. Ron was smarter than he let on, sometimes, whether by accident or on purpose, and even he could have his moments of chivalry and brilliance.

This didn't please Hermione as it might have once, because now that unexpected brilliance was working against her, flushing her a deeper shade of embarrassed pink.

Kreacher cowered and hissed at Ron once before vanishing into a dark corner of the closet that turned out to be another smallish hole in the wall. Her sweater lay on the floor limply, sagging under its own depressing weight, as if bleeding from the place where the house elf had torn the pin. Hermione paused a moment before taking it into her hands.

"We all have obligations." She spoke through clenched teeth, now, staring off into the space where Kreacher disappeared instead of looking to Ron. Easier when she didn't have to face him.

[pb_ron]

Bit of a let down, that.

Ron didn't have the heart to attempt grabbing Kreacher; he'd sort of learned his lesson when it came to sudden movements in Grimmauld Place. Instead he watched the little hole grow and then disappear behind the house elf's back, closing as if there'd been nothing there at all -- no pin, no Malfoy, no obligations. He had no idea what Hermione was trying to say with that.

He did glance at her with something of a question on his face, though; when it turned out she wasn't looking back at him he felt oddly thankful, allowing his brow to fall. A moment later he turned away, back to the cabinet he'd pawed through earlier. "So I dunno what you're going to do about that, then."

There was a small note of victory in his voice, actually, now that he spoke; he couldn't really hide being pleased that Malfoy would have something to be angry about.

[pb_hermione]

She had her obligations to make this thing with Malfoy work, even if it was falling apart at the foundation. Hermione hated the feeling of failure, especially. In schoolwork. In anything, really, which just happened to include relationships. Maybe it hadn't been so bad when the thing with Ron had fallen through, initially, because she'd never had much hope for it in the first place. Hermione wasn't a 'half-full' or a 'half-empty' kind of person, but she was the irritating test-subject who complained, "How can I make a valid judgment about the status of the glass when I already know what the answers signify?"

Sighing, she stared down at the hole in the sweater and grimaced, pulling out her wand. "I'm sure I can fix it. Reparo." She pointed the wand at the gaping hole and watched silently as fabric knitted itself back together.

"All better."

It really wasn't.

[pb_ron]

"I meant the pin," specified Ron, grinning to himself. "What're you going to do about that?"

Maybe it was a little mean. Maybe. And while he certainly didn't hope for Hermione to get in arguments or be unhappy -- well, not exactly anyway -- there was an undeniable joy in imagining that Malfoy would be unhappy with her. Not even that she'd be unhappy with him, mind. Though he couldn't quite figure out what was so much more satisfying in this, he reckoned it wasn't worth finding out; it wasn't as though Ron didn't know he were being spiteful at least this time.

(One of the rare times, unfortunately.)

[pb_hermione]

"I'll manage." Though, she admitted, the situation at home wouldn't be eased at all by this new development. She supposed it was better to know that Kreacher had the heirloom, and for all intents and purposes, it was safe with him; he was one who'd never harm the Black legacy. Likely, he'd hide the bit of flair somewhere in one of the places of Grimmauld that no one knew about. Possibly some hidden shrine to his Mistress.

She sighed. "Reckon Kreacher won't give it back now. Doesn't matter. Not like things can get much worse." This last part was muttered, half-muffled by the sound of her pulling the sweater on over her head, which caused her hair to frizz again with static electricity.

[pb_ron]

Ron was in the midst of looking quite pleased with himself; and of course he hadn't expected it, but when Hermione didn't lighten up even a little, he glanced at her with perhaps a little more of what could be called regret. He'd gotten used to her attempts at being nice, and cheerful; even though most had crumbled almost immediately at having to spend more than ten minutes near him, it had become a common thing for Ron, and he had been getting rather used to it. It was odd having a truly unhappy Hermione around; in his memory he would've been teasing her, attempting to make her smile, but that just wasn't possible in the way it had been once. Ron knew that if he tried it would come out all wrong -- he also knew that it might have nothing to do with him if it did, but he didn't trust Hermione's mood swings to fall in his favor anymore

[pb_hermione]

"I said it's none of your business." Again, she was being snappish and hasty, not looking forward to coming home and explaining to Draco that she'd lost his family's pin. Well you shouldn't have gone there in the first place, he'd say. And then she'd say something equally cruel and he'd look down on her and she'd get angry and cry.

She pawed at angry hair, her fingers tangling in the curls, all hope of manageability lost.

"Bugger...well thank you for your help, Ron. I'll be getting out of your way, now." She moved back through the living room to pick up her rucksack, slinging it over her shoulder in a resigned huff.

[pb_ron]

"None of my business?" Ron repeated, as if this were a surprise.

He knew very well that there wasn't really any part of her life now that was -- and he'd been fine being bitter over this a moment ago -- but somehow hearing it aloud was much different. Painful, even, in the way that these things still had at their worst.

Perhaps they'd been better off not speaking or trying at all.

Ron followed her part of the way out, frowning, but stopped in the doorway of the living room. "You're welcome. Come back anytime when you realise you've lost something."

He meant her mind.

[pb_hermione]

She stomped out, hands buzzing, humming, itching. On the step just outside of Grimmauld, Hermione turned around, opening her mouth to say something horrible and bitter and scathing in Ron's direction, but then she saw his expression. It was the typical "Ron" look, sort of. Confusion and frustration because of something she'd said. In fact, a look she'd grown used to over the years. But still. Still. She shut her mouth again, grimly muttering, "Fine," before storming from the house entirely.