033. Fire

                                    

                                          
After sitting through an incredibly tense dinner at the Burrow, Hermione wanted nothing more than to go straight home. Unfortunately, she knew her parents wouldn't approve of her asking them to drive all the way to Little Whinging when, just weeks ago, she'd practically begged them to let her spend the final night of break here.

                          
Instead of following Ginny to her room, she decided to stay in the living room. She didn't think she'd be able to fall asleep any time soon, given the thoughts of the events—or lack thereof—at dinner bouncing around in her head. 
                          
Ron had barely spoken a word to her all night. He'd avoided eye contact all night, which Hermione was grateful for. At Hogwarts, it was easy to bury herself in her school work or hide out in her dormitory. At the Burrow, though, it was much more challenging to push down her feelings when everything reminded her of Ron.
                          
From her chair right in front of the fireplace, Hermione stared into the flickering flames until her eyes grew tired. After some time, she jolted awake, feeling someone's eyes on her even as she slept. She jerked her head around and saw Ron sitting on the couch, looking right at her. She realized with a start that he had draped a blanket over her, and her heart softened slightly.
                          
She tried to repress those feelings though, and just rolled her eyes. She turned her attention back to the fire, unsure if her eyes were burning from the light or from the threat of tears.
                          
"I couldn't sleep," Ron piped up, offering an explanation Hermione hadn't asked for.
                          
"We don't have to talk, Ron," Hermione said shortly. 
                          
"But—" Ron started before Hermione cut him off with a glare.
                          
"Don't," she warned. "Please."
                          
"Hermione," he protested.
                          
"No, Ron. I can't do this with you," Hermione hissed, standing up abruptly and throwing the blanket at Ron. "I don't even know why I'm here," she whispered, mostly to herself.
                          
She started to walk away from Ron, suddenly feeling as if there wasn't any air in the room when he reached out and grabbed her wrist.
                          
"Why are you mad?" he demanded. "If either of us is angry, it should be me."
                          
"You?" Hermione glowered. "Please. Enlighten me. Why should you be angry with me?"
                          
"Krum!" Ron exclaimed as if that explained everything.
                          
"I'm sorry, what?" Hermione asked indignantly.
                          
"Ginny said you snogged him, and now you're writing to him? He's a creep, and way too old for you."
                          
"This again?" Hermione fumed, her face turning red from both anger and mild embarrassment. "I'm not allowed to have friends, is that it? And so what if I snogged him? It was two years ago! Besides, whatever we did or didn't do would look like child's play next to you and Lavender. You can't go two minutes without putting your hands all over each other. It's revolting!"
                          
"Since when does Lavender have anything to do with this?" Ron demanded.
                          
Hermione scoffed. "She's always had something to do with this, Ron."
                          
"Wait!" Ron called as Hermione turned on her heel and made her way to the stairs. "What does that mean?"
                          
Hermione looked at him incredulously. Surely he couldn't be serious. "I shouldn't have come here. I'll see you back at school."
                          
With that, she stomped up the stairs, ignoring Ron's look of bewilderment, and collapsed on her bed in Ginny's room, allowing her tears to fall silently.