A/N: Here's a nice, fluffy little story that I wrote the other day when I was sick…
Disclaimer: All the characters, settings, situations, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling and her associates.
"Urgh, I feel awful!" Hermione complained, tossing another used tissue onto the floor.
"Hermione, dear, would you like some soup for supper?" Molly Weasley poked her head into her daughter-in-law's room.
"No thank you, Molly. I think I'll just go outside and take a walk…,"
"Oh no you won't! You're going to stay in that bed until you're well, or my name isn't Molly Weasley!"
"I don't suppose you'll be changing you're name anytime soon?"
"Not a chance,"
"But, Molly! I'm bored!" Hermione whined.
"I'll have Harry and Ron come and keep you company until that husband of yours gets home. Don't know why he had to work late tonight, what with you sick and-,"
"I'm fine, Molly," she said, going into a small coughing fit.
"And I'll send that soup up," Molly called from the hallway.
"Grr," Hermione muttered in annoyance.
Deciding that she could at least get some work done, she grabbed her wand from the chair next to the bed and summoned a pile of parchment, a quill, and some green ink. Unrolling the first essay, she began to read about Dennis Creevey's views on The Second Rise and Fall of Lord Voldemort.
"Grading papers?" Ron asked from the doorway.
"Yeah," Hermione tried to say, but her voice cracked.
"You okay, Hermione?" Harry wondered, setting a tray with soup on the chair next to her bed.
"I'm fine, it's just my throat acting up," she said, taking a point off for spelling Voldemort as "Volymore".
"Need any help?"
"Sure. Take a paper and start grading. I only take points off for large errors, and of course if the essay has incorrect information,"
Harry and Ron each grabbed an essay and a quill and began grading.
"Hermione, what's the topic supposed to be?" Ron asked, looking at the essay strangely.
"The Second Rise and Fall of Lord Voldemort. Why?"
"Because this person wrote some nonsense about the effects of a Shrinking Potion,"
"They must have given me their Potions essay. Whose paper is it? Oh, he's a Slytherin. I'm sure Severus won't mind," Hermione rolled her eyes and continued grading.
"Hermione! How are you feeling?" someone called from the opposite side of the room.
"Like crap, Ginny, but thanks for your concern!" Hermione said, smiling at her almost-sister.
"What are you three doing?" she asked, pulling up a chair and grabbing one of the rolls from the large stack.
"Grading. Want to help?"
"Sure," Ginny answered.
"Hermione! Are you eating that soup?" Molly called up the stairs.
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley!" she shouted, shoving a spoonful into her mouth.
"How is it, dear?" Molly called once again.
"It's lovely! Thank you!"
"Mum sure makes good soup, doesn't she?" Ron asked, eyeing the bowl next to Hermione's bed.
"Hungry, Ron?" Harry teased.
"I'll be right back!" Ron jumped out of his chair and dashed downstairs, presumably to get some chicken soup for himself.
Sure enough, Ron returned minutes later with three bowls on a tray.
"Want some?" he offered.
Harry and Ginny both grabbed their steaming bowls in one hand and continued to grade with the other.
Random Barenaked Quote
"I'd rather [play in a crammed studio] than talk about music, 'cause it's a bit like dancing about architecture."
-Ed Robertson (from "Barenaked Ladies") on "Marooned in Europe"
"When do you think you're brother will be home?" Hermione asked Ginny.
"He'll be home soon, Mione, don't worry,"
"I hope so,"
"And when he does get home, he'll come straight here, I'm sure of it!"
Hermione would have replied, but she was interrupted by a commotion downstairs.
"Mum! I'm home!" a man, probably one of the boys, yelled.
"Hermione's in your room, dear!" Molly replied.
The person ran up the stairs and skidded into the room.
"Percy!" Hermione cried happily, dropping the quill she was holding and jumping out of bed.
That was not a good idea.
"Whoa!" she cried as the room began to spin.
Percy rushed to her side and led her back to their bed. Pushing her into a sitting position, he looked around.
"Where'd they all go?" he asked.
"I don't know," Hermione said, looking curiously at the three empty chairs.
"Who cares?" Percy asked, laying down and pulling Hermione with him.
Hermione smiled and rested her head against her husband's chest.
"Do you feel any better?" he asked as he fingered her brown curls.
"I do now that you're here," she said with a smile.
"You know what, Mione?"
"I love you,"
"You know what, Perce?"
"I love you, too," she said before closing her eyes.
"Go to sleep, love," he whispered, pulling out his wand and muttering a spell to turn out the lights.
A/N: Awww…. I wish I had someone like that to be there when I was sick! Anyway, review, please! And don't flame me for writing Percy/Hermione! I'll bet a lot of you (mostly those who don't love Sevvie to death) would prefer this over my Severus/Hermione story! So don't complain! Review, review, review!!