DOORWAYS || MARAUDERS ERA

ϟ51: ANOTHER SUMMER WITH THE POTTERS (PART IV)ϟ

"How long do you reckon she's going to ignore Ron?"

Rhea sat next to Harry, leaning her head against his shoulder and snuggling under the blanket, the bitter, chilly air that was so common in December filling the tent. Ron was sitting opposite to them, and Hermione made sure to put as much distance as possible between her and Ron.

The day Ron came back, Hermione had made sure to give him an earful and even packed several punches to accentuate her anger. On the bright side, Hermione hadn't conjured any birds yet, so Ron was slowly acting like himself, taking this as a good sign.

"Hermione," Ron said in a courteous voice as though he was talking to McGonagall. "Would you like some tea? It's quite cold, isn't it?"

"Yes, Professor Flitwick, I would love some," Rhea said in a honeyed voice. Harry sniggered and shifted in his place, causing Rhea's head to fall off his shoulder.

"I wasn't asking you," Ron spared a disdainful look at her. "Hermione?"

Hermione didn't answer, but a scowl appeared on her face. Her bushy hair was cackling, as though she wanted nothing more than to hex Ron into oblivion. However, with superb indifference, she continued reading her book.

"I want tea," Harry said, looking at Ron in a silent plea. "Make some for me."

For a moment Ron looked like he was going to say no, but then he remembered he had to stay in Hermione's good books. Walking to the table, he bustled about to make four cups of tea, all the while muttering under his breath incoherently.

"I hope this doesn't have sugar, Ron," Rhea warned when Ron handed her and Harry their cups. Once she took a sip slowly and closed her eyes when the heat warmed her up further, she choked on the liquid when she felt the sugary essence practically leave a coppery taste in her mouth.

"Ron!" Rhea said, glaring daggers at him until he cowered slightly.

"What?" Ron asked defensively. "Do you want more sugar or something?"

"No, you git," Harry said, laughing. "She hates sugar in her tea, and knowing you, you must have added five spoons of it."

"A mistake!" Ron protested, eyeing Rhea as she gave him yet another death glare.

Hermione gave an almost inaudible snort, but Ron picked up on that and immediately rounded on her. "Did someone hear that?" he asked loudly, pretending he hadn't heard her even though he was staring right at her. "Sounded like the wind, to me."

"Where are the biscuits?" Rhea muttered.

"I've got scones—" Harry was saying, but Ron continued with his drivel.

"Of course, it could have been a certain female with a lot of anger issues—"

"He's asking for a death sentence," Harry grumbled, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

"I do worry for her mental health, you know?" Ron said insistently, now looking like he was burning holes into Hermione with his stare. "Anger can cloud one's judgment.

Hermione downed the contents of the teacup and looked at Ron coolly. "Look here, Weasley, what do you think I'm holding in my hand?"

"Er," Ron said unsurely, wondering where this conversation was going. "A cup?"

"Yes," Hermione said sweetly, giving Ron a sickly sugared smile. "It's my cup of care. But look," she turned the cup sideways so Ron could see its interior. "It's empty."