Current Career Plans

A suitable blank followed, which pretty much reflected the state of Ron's mind. His options slowly presented themselves. First, he could lie. He could write something amusing like "sewer-cleaner" to give McGonagall a coronary. Second, he could actually put down what he wanted to do.

As he chewed on the quill, he realized he had no idea what that could be. Working for Fred and George didn't sound like fun at all; working with Percy sounded like a method of torture. He wasn't spectacular at Quidditch, or anything for that matter. Nothing really pulled his interest anymore than anything else.

"I'm not going to be a bum," he muttered to himself.

Sighing, he raked his hands through his hair and tipped back in his chair. As he did so, he turned his head upwards and saw Hermione's flushed face glaring down at him.

"You got in another fight today," she said, arms akimbo.

"Yeah, well, Malfoy needed punching," he said dismissively.

"You lost us five points."

Not that voice, not that voice, he begged silently. It was her best guilt-inducing voice, and she was damn good at wielding it. Ron attempted to appeal. "I'm sorry, I guess I can be a little..."

"Pugnacious?" she suggested crossly.

"I was going to say impulsive," he said, throwing her a look. "You aren't really mad at me, are you, 'Mione?"

"Not really," Hermione replied. She set her books down at the table but remained standing. "I wish you'd just grow up every now and again. I suppose you're only seventeen, and that's not likely to change for awhile."

"At least not until my next birthday," he said with a cheeky grin.

She rolled her eyes and pushed his chair, sending him tumbling.

"That was so mature," Ron said, lying in an awkward heap on the floor.

"I rather think you deserved it," she said archly.

He narrowed his eyes. "Is that so?" He hooked her ankle with his boot and brought her down on top of him.

She landed with a thud on his chest. It's only Hermione, he told himself even as his pulse increased wildly. She barely covered him; she was like a butterfly on a tree trunk. He felt huge and ugly and clumsy, a veritable ogre, and...

Her hair smelled really good.

He didn't quite understand why this suddenly cut through his self-consciousness, but it had. It had the scent of... well, it was something. He frowned, perplexed. Maybe it was vanilla.

She cleared her throat, and he could feel the tiny vibration go through him. "Maybe I should get off," she suggested.

"Maybe," he agreed, his voice cracking. Inwardly he cursed his vocal cords. Now, of all times...

She rolled off with utmost efficiency and dusted off her robes. The air became normal again when she said with a bit of a sniff, "You shouldn't be leaning back in your chair like that anyway."

They were both radiant.

Hermione's breath caught, and she sighed wistfully.

"Aren't they cute?" she whispered to Ron.

He made a noncommittal grunt.

"Hullo," Ginny said cheerfully.

"Really enjoyed watching Malfoy's face get smashed today," Harry piped up.

"It almost makes me forgive you for wasting the five points I won in Herbology today," Ginny added. She slumped into a chair facing Hermione and Ron. "I cannot wait until holidays. Snape is really bogging us down with homework."

"You're coming home with us, right, 'Mione?" Ron said absently.

Hermione took a deep breath and silently counted to ten. "Actually, I was wondering if you all wanted to come to my house for the break."

"What's that?" Harry said, green eyes clouded with surprise.

"We always go to the Burrow for holidays," Hermione plunged on, "and I thought it might be a nice change to spend it at our townhouse in London."

"You have a townhouse?" Ginny's face was almost lime.

Ron poked Ginny's shoulder by way of warning. "I'm in," he said.

An echo came from Ginny, and a simple nod from Harry.

She expelled a breath and beamed. That wasn't so hard, she chided herself. Why in the world did I make such a big deal about it?

"I'll post Mum," said Ron, dimples winking quickly.

Butterflies fluttered relentlessly in her stomach. Oh, yeah. Now I remember.

He could have kissed the calendar the day the school session was closed.

"Packed?" Harry asked, rummaging under his bed. He had clothes scattered all on top of his blankets, his suitcase open and haphazardly organized.

"More or less," Ron said. He peered at Harry's feet, which currently were the only thing protruding from the space below the glorified cot. "More than you, I'd say, but definitely less than Ginny. She's packed enough for the entire female population of Bolivia."

"And probably even some of the men," Harry said wryly. A few more items came flying out, one of them solidly nailing Ron in the shin.

"What on earth are you looking for?" Ron asked, exasperatedly peeling the stocking from his leg.

"Ginny's present," was his muffled reply. "I hid it somewhere, down here I think, but I can't seem to find it."

"The necklace you bought at Hogsmeade's?" Ron scratched his forehead. "You put it under the mattress."

With a sheepish grin, Harry crawled back out and retrieved a small package from the said place. "I did, didn't I?"

He's mad for her, Ron thought to himself. A sudden vision of his best friend and his baby sister with a brood of children left him shaking his head. Uncomfortable, he turned on his heel and said, "Hurry up, would you? The train leaves soon."

Ron hadn't planned for the awkward distance between them, it had simply happened when they walked in. His butt was crunched against the wall, he didn't dare move over. She might think he was interested or something.

Which I'm not, he asserted.

"Who all will be there?" Ginny asked. She was burrowed into Harry's side. If they got much nearer, he would have to surgically separate them. Or at least wound Harry a little.

"My parents, of course," Hermione began, ticking the guests off on her fingers. "They're both dentists, so if you call them Dr. and Dr. Granger, they'll be tickled pink."

"That's got to be confusing," remarked Harry.

Ginny bit her lip. "Will they be terribly upset if we slip up and say Mr. and Mrs.?"

"No, no, no," Hermione said with a laugh. "That's fine. My brother might give you a look if you do, but that's about it."

"Jamie," Ron remembered. That was about all he remembered.

Hermione nodded. "He's an engineer, so he's apt to confuse you if he starts talking about his work. Of course, if he only comes out of his room for meals."

"Cousins?" Harry inquired.

"My German cousin Günter, for sure. He's accompanying my grandmama and my aunts. I'm certain several will simply show up, but I'll introduce them as they do."

"How many, total?" demanded Ron. The more people, the better- less room for Ginny and Harry to hide away.

"Including you three? No more than twenty I should think. I know you must get twenty at your house for Sunday tea, but my family is quite a bit different."

"It shall be refreshing," Ginny declared.

It better be a damn small townhouse, Ron thought, and grumpily turned his eyes to the passing landscape.

"Dr. Granger, Dr. Granger, Dr. Granger," Ginny mumbled beside her.

"Chill," advised Ron.

The ride home was charmingly uneventful. Well, Hermione amended, if you could discount Ron's random mutterings of "hand check."

The car rounded the final corner, and the aged brick came into view. The townhouse wasn't a prized familial possession- instead, a fairly recent acquisition paid for by the sturdy salaries of dentistry. It certainly looked impressive; she supposed that was the reason her parents had purchased it. Had it cost a small fortune? Probably, but it didn't leave much of a dent in their finances.

Even if hoards of ancestors hadn't lived in the structure, Hermione had grown up in it. That, in her mind, made it home.

"Hermione!" said her mother merrily, opening the door. She absently kissed her husband's cheek as he passed inside. "You're home! How is school?"

"Fine, Mother," she said truthfully. She jerked a thumb behind her. "You remember Harry, Ron, and Ginny."

"Thank you for letting us stay with you, Dr. Granger," Ginny said politely. Hermione knew she'd rehearsed that line at least twenty times.

"Oh, dear." Her mother's hand fluttered to her chest. "What a nice girl you are. Do you all need help with your luggage?"

"No, thank you," Ginny said, batting her eyelashes at her boyfriend. "Harry's carrying mine."

"You are?" Ron said in surprise.

"I am now," Harry said, sighing.

"Well, then, Harry, why don't you follow me? I'll show you where to put Ginny's things." Her mother paused. "Ginny, you should probably come, too, so that you know the way."

"Alright," chirped Ginny. She tugged on Harry's sleeve. The little force almost toppled him over. "Come on, Harry." He grunted and trailed after them.

Ron folded his arms and scrutinized the building. The sun caught his hair, seemingly setting fire to it.

Hermione blinked, trying to rid the image. "Does it meet your approval?" she teased.

"Too big," he replied cryptically.

"I'm not even going to try to understand that," she told him. "Do you want to see your room?"

"Yeah, sure." He hitched up his bag. "Where to?"

Ron wasn't afraid of many things, but he was definitely afraid of pissing off his mother.

"Welcome," greeted an accented voice. "I'm Günter Granger, Hermione's cousin."

"Uh, hi," Ron said distractedly. "Ron Weasley." He furrowed his brow, rearranging the clothes. Shirts should go in the second drawer; it'd make more sense that way...

"Hello, then."

Ron looked over at the German. Light brown hair, a bit shorter than him, but more... built. Ron had only recently begun to fill out, but this guy looked like he lifted tree trunks for a hobby or something.

"You don't look anything like Hermione," Ron said finally.

"We are distantly related," Günter said, shrugging. "But I like to sponge off rich family. Good for parties, no?" He peered at Ron. "Is that hair color real?"

Ron blinked. "As far as I know."

He clasped his hands to his chest in a manner oddly reminiscent of Hermione's mother. "I am greatly fond of redheads. Something so... spanky about them."

"Spunky?" Ron suggested.

"Spanky, spunky. My English is not good." Günter said easily. "Perhaps you would give me lessons?"

"No, that's quite alright."

Günter stepped closer, folding his arms. "Certain? I should like to spend more time with you, Herr Weasley. You are very interesting."

Ron coughed, backing away. "Are you hitting on me?"

He frowned. "Yes, yes," he said impatiently. "I am sexy, you are sexy, it is to be expected."

"I'm not gay," Ron blurted out.

"Are you homophobic?" he questioned. "Seventy percent of homophobes are actually-"

Oh, god. Save me. "I'm not a homophobe, I'm just not gay," Ron said, putting his head in his hands.

Günter sighed. "This is sad. My heart is broken." He walked out of the room, looking desolate and lonely. Ron almost felt bad for him.

"Ron," Ginny said, appearing in the doorway. "Have you seen Hermione?"

"Fraulein!" said Günter brightly. "Welcome! I am cousin of Hermione from Germany."

He definitely didn't feel sorry for him now. "You get around," Ron said darkly.

"You cannot expect me to weep over you forever, Herr Weasley," he sniffed.

"Or five minutes," Ron said.

"Am I missing something?" Ginny said, bemused.

"No," he replied sharply. "I'm going to find Hermione."

"Oh, good. Tell me when you do," she called after him.

She poked her head out of a nearby door. "What is it, Ron?"

"Your cousin," he growled through clenched teeth, "was flirting with me."

"Günter?" she said knowingly. "Don't worry. He flirts with everyone."

"But-"

"Don't let it bother you," she said, patting his shoulder. "He's harmless, but I'll talk to him if it makes you too distressed."

"Thank you," he said, heaving a sigh of relief.

"Loosen up," Hermione said, smiling. "Have some fun."

Ron was paralyzed by that smile. Her entire face lit up, like the Christmas tree at Hogwarts with a candle for every bough. He would do anything-

We're just friends, he reminded himself.

"Herr Weasley!"

"Oh, my god," Ron groaned, and bolted for the nearest safe place.

He's so strange sometimes, she thought. Her smile remained. He wouldn't be Ron without that streak of strangeness.

He was one of her best friends. He'd grown in that capacity lately, especially since Harry and Ginny had begun hanging all over each other. She could tell him everything.

Almost everything.

It was getting weird between her and Ron. Bad weird.

Maybe he knows I'm in love with him, she thought with resignation.

He went to the toilet, flipped the seat down, and parked his rear.

"Hullo," cheeped a small voice.

Ron's eyes sharply went to the shower stall, where a little girl sat.

She had the cheeks of a cherub, but with her frizzy, curly brown hair, she was no doubt related to Hermione.

"Hi, there," Ron said softly. "What are you doing in here?"

"Hiding," she replied promptly, sticking her thumb in her mouth.

"Me, too," he said.

He put his ear to the door and listened carefully. "I think they're gone." He held out his hand. "I think we can leave now."

The little girl fit her unoccupied palm in his. It was tiny and cute, just like every inch of her.

Ron led her out into the hallway. He had to bend down to keep hold of her. "Do I still have to take a nap?" she asked.

"I don't know," Ron said helplessly.

"I don't want to take a nap," she said seriously.

"I gathered," he answered dryly. He let go of her hand. "Go find your mama."

"Want to come with you," she said fiercely, throwing her arms around his leg.

Ron attempted to walk, but the girl was hindering his progress.

"Get off, little girl," he said, shaking his leg.

Her liquid brown eyes stared up at him. "Papa, please?"

"Papa?" he repeated.

Then he looked down at her again.

"Oh, shit."