˗ˋ 85

                                    

                                          
CHAPTER EIGHTY FIVE
✧
-: fifth year :-
── IN WHICH MRS WEASLEY
FINDS OUT
. . .

Jane might have noticed Harry's slip into disappointment, but Hermione didn't. She burst through the door seconds later, her cheeks flushed and her hair flying. There was a letter  clutched in her hands, and her eyes flickered from Fred patting Harry on the back to Jane sat by wrong, and her mind shot towards the wrong conclusion. 
"Did you - did you get - ?" Her gaze flickered down to Harry's hand, where the Prefects badge was sat and being admired. She let out a shriek, Jane wincing. "I knew it!" She exclaimed, excited. "Me too, Harry, me too!" Her letter was brandished around, rippling in the force of it.
"No." Harry stood up, taking a couple of steps towards Ron. "No - I didn't get it." Jane looked up at him as he deposited the badge into his palm. "It's Ron - not me." 
"What?" Hermione blinked. "It's-"
"Ron." Jane said gently. "Ron's prefect, not Harry."
"Yeah." Harry emphasised. "Ron got it, not me." He confirmed.
"Ron?" Hermione's jaw dropped. "But... are you sure? I mean -" Her face turned pink as she realised both Ron and Jane stared up at her, expressions defiant. "I mean-"
The ginger girl nudged his side. Ron nodded, sitting taller. "It was my name on the letter." He replied, all the more ready to pull it out of the envelope again and present it as a kind of proof. 
"I...." Hermione trailed, looking thoroughly bewildered. "I... well... wow! Well done, Ron! That's really -"
"You wizards have no tact." Jane muttered, shaking her head.
"-Unexpected." George finished Hermione's sentence quickly, knowing that any more silence could result in a lot more tension than they wished for. "Yeah, we all figured that out."
Hermione shook her head hurriedly. She was trying to salvage the atmosphere that had developed. "No." Hermione insisted, blushing harder than ever. "No, it's not... Ron's done loads of... he's really..."
"No tact at all." Jane added, deadpan.
The door behind her opened a little wider; Mrs Weasley was backing through into the room. carrying a pile of freshly launderedrobes. "Ah, good. Jane delivered the letters - I have no idea why they came so late this time..." She placed down the pile of laundry on the side, looking around at the room at the empty envelopes and the gathering of teenagers by the beds before turning back to the robes, which she began to sort into two piles. "If you give them to me I'll take them over to Diagon Alley this afternoon and get your books while you're packing... Ron, I'll have to get you more pajamas, these are at least six inches too short, I can't believe how fast you're growing... what colour would you like?" 
"Get him red and gold to match his badge." George replied for him, smirking. It seemed that their promise of their mother reacting in such an extreme way was being put in place. 
"Match his what?" Mrs Weasley replied absently, rolling up a pair of maroon socks.
"His badge." Fred said, emphasising greatly. "His lovely shiny new prefect's badge." They watched with baited breath as his words permeated Mrs Weasley's preoccupation with the laundry. For a moment it didn't click, and when it finally registered in her mind her movements slowed, and the socks dropped from her hand.