This one goes out to Goofball, one of my favorite reviewers, because it seemed to fit his personality. It's fun, and light, and hopefully you'll enjoy it. :P
Disclaimer- Don't own it.
I don't get paid for these one-shots,
So is it asking for a lot
If all I'm asking you to do,
Is leave behind a kind review?
Scientific studies have proven time and time again that January the 23rd is the most depressing day of the year for a variety of reasons, all of them ranging from the gloomy, cold weather to the passing of the holiday season. Hermione thought that those scientific studies were accurately proven when the most depressing day of the year actually came. The entire week had been long, but that day must have been the worst yet.
Christmas was over, and the holidays had passed long enough ago that Grimmauld Place had returned to it's natural state; gray, dark, and depressing. The lonely, empty house had never seemed more unnerving than it did that day.
Hermione tried to block out the ticking of the nearby clock and concentrate on the journal of one of the Black ancestors that she was reading.
Hermione sighed. She turned the page.
Harry sighed.
The clock ticked.
Ron seemed to snore.
Fed up with all of the monotonous noises and the dull, cold house, Hermione snapped her book shut. "Right. Well, whatever we're looking for obviously isn't here."
Ron raised his tired blue eyes to meet hers. "Then where," He started, wincing as his back cracked when he sat up. "Do you suggest we look?"
"The Order said that Voldemort wasn't in that manor in Little Hangleton." Hermione pointed out for what seemed like the hundredth time. "We could look there." Ron rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione cut him off. "I know that Order already searched it, but maybe they missed something."
"And what about when we searched it?" Ron asked dryly, covering his mouth as he yawned. Hermione frowned.
"Well, maybe we didn't spend enough time there. You have to admit that we rushed through it."
"There was a reason we rushed through it, Hermione." Harry said, massaging his temples. "There's no way that Voldemort left the Riddle manor without some sort of dark magic or wards behind."
"Nothing happened last time." Hermione pointed out. "So we know there's no protective wards."
"No, but there may be tracking wards." Ron pointed out, irritated. "We were attacked four times after we went there, all in the course of three days. The Death Eaters probably found us through a spell that Voldemort left on the ruins of the manor, and you know it as well as I do. You agreed with me the last time I said it."
"But even there would be better than here!" Hermione snapped. Her voice echoed through the empty house and harshly repeated her words.
"What, you think that some old, destroyed manor would be any better?" Ron asked.
"Better to find information, yes!" Hermione replied.
"Stop it." At the voice of the third member of the trio, Ron and Hermione instantly quieted. Harry rarely spoke anymore unless spoken to, and his soft but angry tone made both teenagers feel more than a little ashamed. "Fighting over it isn't going to help anything. I agree with Hermione, that we need to get out of here; Merlin, it's no wonder Sirius was going crazy in this place." All three members of the trio sat in silence, and Hermione shivered, feeling slightly nauseous. She could barely handle a few weeks in Grimmauld Place alone, with only the constantly coming and going members of the Order and her two best friends to keep her company. She couldn't imagine being shut in this house alone for months on end.
"I also agree with Ron." Harry said, calmly continuing. "Riddle Manor may hold answers, but it's going to have to wait. We can't afford to risk it." Hermione nodded, her eyes staring at her clasped hands, which were resting on the table.
"I'm sorry…I think I need a little air." Ignoring the fact that it was freezing cold outside, Hermione wrapped a scarf around her neck, pulled a thick and heavy winter coat over the pajamas that she hadn't changed out of yet, and stuffed her feet into boots, then trudged through the thick snow outside, unaware of her two best friends watching her walk away.
"She'll be fine." Ron said, after a moment of quiet between the two boys. "She just needs some time to…cool off." Both of the boys chuckled as Harry shook his head at Ron's bad joke.
"I think we all do." Harry murmured, feeling slightly bitter. It seemed like Voldemort was all that any of them thought of nowadays.
Ron smirked. "Well…do you think we should help her cool off?"
Catching the implied idea, Harry smiled. "I think we really should. What kind of friends would we be if we didn't?"
Mrs. Phillips, of Number 14, Grimmauld Place, looked up from her dishes that evening when she heard a loud shriek come from outside. Amused, she looked on as two young men and a teenage girl ran around in the snow, attempting to pelt each other with snowballs. Apparently the young woman had been the first target, and was now struggling to dodge the flying snow and throw her own snow back at the other two, despite the fact that she and her friends only had on pajamas under their coats and scarves. Shaking her head at their antics, Mrs. Phillips returned to her dishes, never once wondering where that empty lot next to her home had come from. It was nice to see young people enjoying the snow.
Tonks was about to end the snowball fight, concerned for the safety of the trio, when she felt Remus hug her from behind. "Let them have their fun." He murmured to her, smiling as he watched the laughing teens from the window. "Merlin knows they've earned it, and they can take care of themselves." Unable to argue with her boyfriend's logic, Tonks hung her coat on the stairs banister and watched as Harry hit Ron in the back with a large, slightly icy, ball of fluffy white snow.
When the trio came in a while later, all three were soaked from head to toe and shaking, but for the first time in what seemed like forever, each member of the trio was smiling.
And as she went to bed that night, Hermione realized that there was no way to scientifically decide which day of the year was the most depressing. Each day was what you made of it.
And it had been one of the best days Hermione had had in a long time.
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