~September~
A Dreadful Beginning
Monday 3 September~
Hair bushiness (on scale of 0 – 10): 5 (blech). School assignments completed: 2. Hours spent on study: 4 (fair). Chocolate eggs consumed: 2 (but they were gifts, so would have been rude to refuse). Number of times tempted to hit Ron over head with ‘Hogwarts – a History’ – 12.
11 am: Ugh. Classes arranged this semester so that I have a brief break before lunch. Should be reviewing ‘Wizarding Wonders of the 5th Century’ for History of Magic, but I’d rather hide. Harry and Ron are behaving abominably. Actually, Harry’s not so bad – he just wanders around, looking rather lost next to that long redheaded streak (Ron has gotten quite a bit taller over the summer, if that were even possible). I wonder if he is being reminded of Cedric and You-Know-Who, now that he is back at Hogwarts. I tried to talk to him about it, but of course he said, “I’m fine,” and then became completely absorbed in mending his quill nub. It’s so annoying. And Ron – he’s the real problem. Every time I look up lately, he’s watching me. It’s very unsettling, that look. Like I’m sort of chess problem he’s trying to work out. Have the terrible feeling he’s plotting something. I asked him about it, and he nearly bit my head off.
“Stop it!”
He blinked as if against a bright light. “Er – what?”
“Looking at me! What – do I have something in my hair?”
“What on Earth are you talking about, Hermione?” he asked a bit grumpily. He did, however, seem to wince when I mentioned my hair. Oh dear.
“Since the station yesterday – you’ve been watching me. You’d better not be up to anything, Ron Weasley, or I’ll—“
His face tuned red with anger. “I’m not up to anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, if you don’t *mind*, I’m trying to listen to Professor Bimms.”
Which is ridiculous because he’s never listened to a word Profession Bimms has said in his entire Hogwarts career.
Ugh. Will ignore Ron for the rest of the day. Annoying prat.
3 pm: Neville has given me belated birthday present, during Herbology. I think that class might just make him a bit bolder than usual - but he still blushed quite a bit.
“Hermione!”
I started and nearly fell off my stool, but grabbed onto the workbench just in time. It was Neville. He stood next to me, shuffling his feet and looking nervous.
“Yes, Neville?”
“I…erm…I was going to give you your birthday present earlier, but I…er…forgot. Um…here,” he said quickly, thrusting a small, brightly wrapped package into my hands.
Next to me, Harry and Ron stopped talking.
“Oh…oh, well…thanks. That’s very sweet of you to remember, Neville,” I replied.
Ron looked over the top of Harry’s head to my end of the bench. “What did you get her, Neville?” he asked curiously – the great interfering twit.
Neville blushed pink all the way across his chubby face, and looked intently at his feet. Curious as well (well, who wouldn’t be? And I *adore* prezzies, after all!), I tore open the wrapping paper.
“Wicked!” Ron offered, “Frizzy Friller’s Self-Hatching Chocolate Eggs!”
I shot a glare at him, and he suddenly remembered that we were not presently on speaking terms. Harry piped in with, “Good call, Neville – Hermione loves those!”
Oh, hoo-*rah*. “Yeah…this is marvelous, Neville. Thank you.”
He nodded bashfully, muttered a ‘Happy Birthday’, and went back to his workbench. I gazed on the two chocolate eggs in dismay. Oh dear. First day back in school, and already I’m contemplating breaking my resolutions. That simply *will not* do. I’ll have to save them – maybe give them to roommates as expression of goodwill?
8 pm: Sod the roommates. Have eaten both chocolate eggs in fit of self-pity. Friends are uncaring and mean. After a miserable day spent ignoring *him*, decided to retire to the common room for some study, conversation, and maybe a good chess match.
He didn’t ask me. He didn’t even *ask*. And *I* certainly wasn’t going to bend over backwards to make things easy for him, so I turned to Harry for help.
Harry looked between the two of us. Ron was very studiously avoiding our gaze, and was instead wiping imaginary dust from his chessboard. Harry shrugged helplessly.
Fine. Ron can just go ahead and be that way. See if I care!
It wasn’t as if I was feeling teary because of him, anyway. It was just I was absolutely exhausted all of a sudden – it *is* the first day of classes, after all. And I didn’t run out of the common room because I was upset, either. I just don’t see any use in lollygagging when you’ve a specific destination in mind.
When I got up to my room, the two chocolate eggs were resting temptingly in their bright foil wrappers. They looked very cozy resting in the jumper Mrs. Weasley had made me last year, and as everybody knows, Self-Hatching eggs need a nice warm environment to hatch in or else they’ll sour. Through experimentation I’ve discovered that Weasley sweaters are capable of producing exactly the temperature required.
After a great deal of shaking, the first one burst open and a tiny model of Padraig Moondust serenaded me with a rather high-pitched ‘Happy Birthday’. It’s wonderful luck - Padraig Moondust is the last singer I needed to complete my collection of Wizard Musicians of the 1970’s. How incredibly thoughtful of Neville to get it for me (though, I suppose, it was more luck than anything else on his part, as well)! Much more thoughtful than *some* people I could mention.
Then the second egg hatched as well. A white knight on an armored war-horse trotted onto the bed, looking annoyingly perky. The knight flipped up his visor and gave me cheerful miniature smile. This, of course, made me burst into tears *again*. I sniffled a bit and popped a piece of the chocolate eggshell in my mouth. And another. And then I pulled a paperback copy of “Enchanted Rendezvous” out from under my mattress – the passionately embracing couple on the cover looked at me curiously and then went back to snogging.
Stupid, horrible day.
Oh – look. There’s one more piece of chocolate.
Perhaps things will look better tomorrow.
