halfbloodhill_logs | Covering Bases (Open)

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Covering Bases (Open)

Who: Hermione Granger and whomever happens to cross her path
What: Training/practicing her magic
Where: Near the lake
When: Sunday, August 4th, early evening
Why: Because after the hectic changes that occurred over the last week and a half she doesn't feel like angering any of the other gods

Of course she was secretly smug about the fact that she'd followed the rules this time. She hadn't incurred the wrath of Hera. She did feel slightly sorry for those who had been punished though.

On the other hand, this just pushed Hermione further into the mindset she often waffled on; was she there to learn, or there to make friends and push boundaries? She knew she belonged at Camp because she was a demigod and she knew she was there to train and protect not only her family and others in her home town, but herself.

Her magic was powerful. That much she also knew. Over the last three years that she'd been attending Camp she'd grown stronger and better than she had been as a 13 year old. But she also knew she still had a long way to go. Fire spells and the creation of illusions were impressive, sure, but if she settled for mastering only a few skills where would she be?

She waited until later in the day when the lake was more or less cleared out save for maybe a few of the other campers. They weren't a huge concern though. Not anymore. She was just going to mind her business for once and settle in to recite her incantations and focus on her magic. She's doing her best to keep one eye on her form and one eye on the area around her to ensure nobody sneaks up on her.

Yeah, good luck with that, Granger. It doesn't help that by now it's pretty well-known among her group of acquaintances that she always comes to the same spot.

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Ron was so ready for dinner. His clothes will still singed from practicing on the Lava Wall where he'd had a near escape of not being crushed to death, but at least they weren't still smoking. They'd stopped that halfway through an advanced archery lesson, which was good.

It did mean he was done with the day and wanted nothing more to eat and pass out in his bunk back in Cabin 6. The shower could wait in the morning and maybe the tossing out of the shirt, because they were both jobs he really didn't want to bother with (as much as he was certain it would annoy some of his half-siblings).

He did make sure to do one thing, though. And that one was a familiar one at this point. He was used to her running off into her own spaces. She used to do it at school, too, but the bad thing was she always chose the same ones. Before it meant her stupid bullies would find her, now it just meant she was in the same places as usual. He could even see her as he made his way towards the lake and rolled his eyes.

Making his way quietly up, he figured she knew he was there as he propped the bow and arrows against a rock and moved to sit down. "Predictable, as always," he called, smirking slightly, "you know, strictly speaking, this is an awful habit you have. You've got to have seen a horror movie where some stalker killed someone because they went to the same places everyday... Actually happens, y'know."

It wasn't as though Ron joining her was anything new. Ever since they had both become year-rounders it wasn't unusual for them to check in with each other at least three times a day. She smelled him before she saw him, nose crinkling at the slightly burned aroma coming off of him. She didn't break her concentration, successfully pulling off a proper illusion spell and disappearing briefly. When she returned to his view though she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. She was trying to reprimand him, but it was hard when she was fighting off a slight smile.

"Honestly, Ronald," she sighed. "You say that as though I'm not capable of handling myself against a stalker."

She didn't look as sure as she sounded though. He wasn't the only one who remembered how easily her childhood tormentors would track her down.

He was at least kind enough not to talk while she finished her spell. Or maybe it was that he really didn't want an explosion to happen. Brilliant she was, sure, but they'd had a few near misses together. Raising a brow, his features turned amused at the look she gave him before he shrugged.

Then he had to make a face. Ronald. After nearly six years you'd think she'd know by now that his name was Ron. But really she was the only one who could get away with that beyond his adopted mom...

Instead, he scoffed. "Yeah," he said pointedly, "sure. S'that why I had to come save your neck through middle school, eh?"

In her defense, at least his eyebrows grew back perfectly normal and she learned how to control the fire spell she'd been working on. Her eyes widened at his statement and she shook her head firmly, mildly annoyed suddenly.

"That's different and you know it's different!" Even if she didn't want to admit it, middle school still sort of haunted her a little bit. It didn't matter that she was a demigod and that she could do things mortals couldn't; part of her was still that weird, insecure know-it-all that needed to hide behind the Mist or her best friend. That didn't mean she had to make it obvious though.

"Anyway, if you'll recall I was the one who saved us from the Manticore, remember?"

He doesn't seem that plussed by her annoyed reaction. If only because they went through this and he was only looking out for. Or maybe it was that he never really cared much about emotion and more for common sense. Nonetheless, he rolled his eyes.

"Real different when a monster in disguise stalks you and attacks, sure," he said easily, cooly. It happened before. He didn't know it when he was a kid, but before her he'd had plenty of those experiences. Not that he'd told her, but there was one that she knew she knew. That she was the center cause of and then she went and said.

"I saved you first. I told you the guy was an idiot," he returned, scowling, "anyway, I didn't have any mystical powers remember?" Or no about any. Not that he did have any beyond having a knack for not dying in a fight.

She'd often wondered if Ron ever saw all of the things she saw as a child, but she knew better than to bring it up to him. They were both at Camp Half-Blood for the same reason. She didn't always have to needle him for the fine print of every situation. The problem though was that she was sometimes an emotionally-driven person by nature which often clashed with his cut-and-dry common sense. This was one of those times. She moved suddenly, stalking up to him so that she towered over him from his seated position.

"The point is that I can still take care of myself," she said with only the slightest bit of hesitation in her voice. "I know Cormac was an idiot and I know that you chased him off the first time, but he came back and revealed himself to us. And I saved us. Mystical powers or not that counts."

It wasn't even a matter of who saved who anymore. It was all about who was right and who wasn't.

Why she was so emotional he would never know. Things didn't have to be something up in arms. Which was why he often found himself yelling back at her. She's get too stressed or worried and he'd have to turn it around. But maybe not wasn't the time for that, really. Why fight now? The fact she'd come storming up to him now seemed a good enough reason as he looked up at her levelly.

His brows pulled downwards, and after a moment he pulled himself to full height. He was taller than her-- he could use that to his advantage. She'd saved him, she was right there, but that didn't mean she was right and he was going to prove it.

"Can you?" He said it point-blank, seriously, his tongue darting out to moisten his lip before he continued. "Who was it who managed to take out a few of those monsters they saw with a sword the first time?" It was true, at least. When his mother claimed him she'd done so in a way to give them something to fight with-- not just something that wouldn't permanently kill a monster along the way. He'd done well enough the first time, but--

"Face it. I know you. We've been in camp ages and you've focused on magic," Ron said, voice gruff, "you hate fighting. So what happens when you're in a situation where you can't be mystical? Can you do it then?

Didn't have to be, but they usually ended up that way. About 70% of their conversations ended with them bickering with one another, but even despite that Hermione would claim Ron as her best friend without any sort of hesitation or faltering. They'd been through way too much together not to remain close, but...sometimes being this close was a bad thing.

She didn't step back when he rose to his full height, merely turning her nose up to try and keep her eyes locked on his. He was a good couple of inches taller than she was, but she wasn't easily intimidated by that anymore. Mostly. She inhaled deeply through her nose, a sharp sort of noise as she processed the question he was asking her. Of course she could. That was the point, wasn't it?

...then again...she had seen him take down the hellhounds when they were on the run to Camp three years ago. She'd watched him grow stronger every day he was at Camp with her and she knew instinctually that he also had a point. It hurt her to admit he had a point though.

"You're not the only one who's been training with weapons," she spoke again, trying to match his gruff tone but ending up sounding a little more frazzled than usual. "I could handle it."

At least it seemed as if most of their bickering had a point to it. It could be much worse. But for Ron he was overprotective of her-- something he couldn't voice outloud. He wanted her safe and he wanted her to realize that magic wasn't always going to fix everything. It never had for them before, did it? But most of all he didn't want to lose her. That sounded stupid because he hated her at first and she'd always scolded him anytime she saw fit (which was a lot), but beyond the Weasleys she was the one person who stuck by him before camp. And technically-- didn't he have to leave them? He couldn't lose her.

For more reasons than that, but they were the only reasons he thought of or even confessed to himsel.

Staring her down, Ron let out his own breath as his fingers flexed at his side. He knew she knew he had a point. She may have been smarter when it came to academics and could recite facts so fast that it would make his head spin, but he'd always been better at common sense. At plans to survive and knowing how to survive. It came with the territory of being an Athena kid, but it wasn't something that was exactly supernatural, ater all.

"Yeah?" He returned. Without a single moment of hesitance he bent down and grabbed the bow from its place and fished out the familiar pocket knife. "Take your pick, then."

Edited 2013-08-06 07:24 (UTC)

She had a feeling that Ron was overprotective of her, but she never knew to what extent and she never would even dream that it was for any of those reasons. She knew that Ron was very protective of the family that actually stuck with him, but she never bothered lumping herself into that category. She was merely something familiar and that was understandable. In her world, she came to accept that it was okay if he wasn't as close to her as she felt she was to him. It was natural. Instead she settled for their friendship that consisted of her bossing him around and scolding him, and him pushing her and challenging her. Sometimes though? Sometimes that backfired horribly such as this case.

As soon as he grabbed the bow and his pocket knife though, she balked. She stumbled back a tiny bit out of the range of the bow, gawking at him in disbelief.

"What, now? You must be joking!"

He was trying to make a point. Maybe it was in the worst of ways-- not in the kindest of ways-- but she had to see. He didn't know what brought it on. Perhaps the memories of the last time people knew her routine. Perhaps it was knowing she couldn't really through but one good punch at a time. And maybe it was just needing to know.

The hand that held the pocket knife went instinctively to steady her before dropping uselessly to his side. His expression didn't change from the serious, set look he had on before.

"Of course I mean right now," he said with an exhale, "you don't get to choose when you fight, do you? Or who? So let's do it." Because he wouldn't try to hurt her, that much she had to know, but he was also confident in what he knew about her.

"I'm not always going to be around, Hermione," he fumbled with a breath, "I've seen you. You're awful. So you've gotta learn someday because there's gonna come a time--" He swallowed and shrugged. He'd long since realized he may die in a monster battle one day, or she might. Or anyone. He knew and expected it in the war against the Titans just last summer. Maybe that was why this was so important. Regardless, it didn't stop him from treating it like he didn't know the fate of a demigod.

She didn't even seem to notice that his hand moved, focused on what he was trying to tell her. On the one hand, Ron was right. They never got to choose when or who they were to fight. She couldn't fault him for pointing out a simple fact that she sometimes tried to ignore so that she could give herself more time. On the other hand, she really, really disliked being backed into a corner, literally or figuratively. When she was faced with sudden pressure, she often found that she struggled with a bit of performance anxiety. She knew what she was doing in theory, of course, and she could manage perfectly well in a controlled setting or during Capture the Flag. But there had been a few times she went out in the world and fought monsters, fought in wars, where she had narrowly escaped and only because of sheer luck.

She bit down on her lower lip as her hands fidgeted at her sides. Though she wasn't ADHD like her companion, she did have some nervous tics that arose on occasion.

"But...we don't even have our armor or anything! I'm not doing this right now." She tried to back off again, though her eyes lingered on the bow in his other hand. She could stand to get better with her aim. "And I'm not that awful."

Unfortunately for her, they both had the same stubborn streak. Especially him. Really, her not having ADHD as a demigod was worrying. It made him hate her less from before , well, just a smidge. She'd always been a show-off Still gripping bow and pocket knife he rolled his eyes.

"How many times are you going to have armor when you're out grocery shopping?" Ron shot back, quirking a brow, "and you're dead awful." At least compared to him.

But he paused and scowled. "Admit it, you know I'm right," Ron said," I've instinct for this and you're my best friend. Really think I'd say it if it weren't true?"

Edited 2013-08-06 08:11 (UTC)

All right, so he had another point. That didn't mean she was going to break down and admit he was right. She was still right, too, and he wasn't proclaiming her to be a genius yet.

"You've instinct because you're one of Athena's kids," she retorted. She had always been very slightly envious of Ron's athletic ability (or anyone's really.) It wasn't as though she wasn't coordinated and couldn't hold her own, but it didn't come to her as naturally as it did other children, mortal and demigod alike.

Before she could change her mind, she suddenly reached forward and snatched the bow out of Ron's hand, backing up and looking upward in a challenging stance. "I don't know. Sometimes you say some really awful things."

"Yeah, so?" He retorted, shrugging a shoulder, "it just means I'm more right, you know." Why she was jealous he'd never know. He was good with creating things, strategy, and beating people up with stuff. He didn't have any magical ability beyond being dyslexic and ADHD. No magic fire, no spells. Nothing. So it wasn't like he had anything extra to help.

Raising a brow when she took the bow, Ron didn't move from his position. He figured she wasn't likely to shoot him with in an arrow straight to the face, but he did get caught on what she said next. "S'never without good reason," Ron grumbled. After all, he did try hard not to say the things he used to before they became friends. Sometimes insensitive? Cetainly. But he never really realized it when he said it. And he really did always try to make a point-- even if, you know, those points were really insensitive. He's just not good with emotions and people.

"So that's almost like cheating," she shrugged back. "It doesn't make you any more right than me." Sure she was smart and she had a head full of useful and useless facts and she could create spells and enchantments, but she still couldn't properly wield a sword if her life depended on it.

She examined the bow, obtaining an arrow and loading it onto the bow calmly. He was right; se wouldn't shoot him in the face with an arrow on purpose. Accidentally...well, her aim was a lot better if she just focused. She suddenly stopped though upon hearing those words. "How is any of that for good reason?"

"No it's not," he retorted, fishing for the right words, "it's me using my natural talents. You're good at school, I'm good on the field. It's the same." That was her own fault, really, it's not like he isn't trying to teach her.

Taking a step back out of precaution, Ron frowned and flicked open one of the blades on the pocket knife that didn't turn into his sword as a tick. She always had good form, but good form didn't mean anything when you had five seconds to noch and go. He was studying her before she stopped and his eyes went from bow and arms to her face. "What do you mean?" He responded thickly, "Pointing out you'll shoot someone in the eye like that is a good reason. So's telling you about learning to use a weapon."

"It's not the same when we're in a place where you have the advantage." Granted, that's probably how Ron when he was in school with Hermione. The playing field was never even for the two of them.

Her eyes are fixed on that knife in his hands but she'd made sure to perfect her form with graceful lines and strong angles. She did her best to avoid his eyes then, focusing on the tip of the arrow instead. "Never mind, Ron. " It was silly to bring up some of the insensitive things he'd said over the past and even the insensitive things he still says. "I'm not going to shoot eyes out."

"Funny that," he commented, "now you can see how the rest of us feel." He scowled unhappily, giving her a pointed look. Because at least he didn't purposefully try to be better than her.

He wasn't going to stab her with it. He just flicked it open and closed, watching. Strong lines and grace didn't matter much if you couldn't do this faster. He frowned. "Not never mind, go on," he said easily, moving to point to one of the markers out in the lake, "right then. Prove it. See that? You've three chances to hit it square in the middle. Fifteen seconds to nock the arrow and shoot."

"That's hardly my own fault!" she exclaimed. He'd struck a nerve, and he knew it. She was aware of her need to constantly be better than everyone els and her ambitions. That still didn't make everything her fault.

She knew he would never hurt her on purpose. If there was anyone she trusted her whole life with, it was Ronald Weasley. However, she's not stupid enough to look away either as she held her stance with the bow, adjusting the arrow a bit. "Never. Mind." She settled for glaring at him before whirling around to face the markers. She grappled with the arrow a bit, fixing it to adjust it properly and promptly firing it toward the lake. She hit the marker, but on the very edge of the square.

"Fifteen seconds?"

"Course not," he returned, though in part disbelief, "can hardly blame anyone else then, can you?" Because it made them even. Better at opposite things.

Frowning slightly, Ron rolled his eyes at the way she seemed to glare at him like he killed her pet or something. He decided to put the matter aside for the moment, but that didn't mean he would bring it up later. She needed t owork on this more.

"Loosen up. Feel and see at the same time, sort of the trick," he mumbled before giving a nod, "fifteen seconds. You've only two tries left."

"...well," she faltered briefly, stumbling on her words. "Ron if you would just try a little harder..." She knew two things about that phrase. A.) It was useless. They'd had that discussion for ages, too. And B.) It was a statement that was probably going to anger him because she knew he was trying. She knew he tried his hardest but sometimes she felt maybe it could have been just a little more.

She huffed in irritation, trying not to lose her composure as she reset. For as often as she went about correcting everyone else, she hated being corrected herself. She especially hated it when it came to Ron because it was just admitting her flaws. It was a reminder of the first Capture the Flag game all over again where she'd realized she only possessed magical skills and had run off in tears to hide deep in the forest. After that she'd started to learn a variety of weapons, but the only one she had any real grasp on was archery.

"I know how many tries I have left!" she snapped, lining up again and firing off the second arrow. It hit the mark again but still off center. She was definitely thinking too much about the theory and the trajectory rather than feeling the pull of the bow and the dynamic of the arrow itself.

That certainly was the wrong thing to say. Especially as he tensed and glared at her unhappily. "Don't you start," he said icily, "you've no idea what it's like." It was colder than his usual tone with her because he hated this. Or the idea that he didn't try. He did, every day. Sure, he'd kind of just stopped when he got too frustrated-- because nothing worked. And here she was acting like it was some sort of easy fix that he could do like that. It was just like every adult and teacher before who acted like it was him-- and maybe in part it was when he got too frustrated-- but he tried his damnedest along the way.

The tension didn't leave his shoulders as he let out a breath. He wants to not talk, to just walk away and leave her there, but he struggles with it and instead clenches a hand. "Stop thinking about it so much," he said, frowning, "try again before I start counting your time off now."

She immediately regretted it at least, but she doesn't hurry to apologize. Instead she shut her mouth and gave him a muted stare. He was right; she didn't know what it was like to have all of the complications that came with ADHD and dyslexia, but at the same time he didn't know all of the problems that came from having her amount of brilliance. Neither was a great option, in her opinion, but it was an argument they could have another day.

She was much more wary now that he was tense and annoyed. She still chose not to speak, following his instructions and only briefly opening her mouth to protest before closing it again. One more chance...she only had one more chance to prove that she knew what she was talking about and Ron was being ridiculous. She steadied herself, taking more than her allotted fifteen seconds before she fired the last arrow. It sailed through the air and sank into the marker, just a bit off-center but closer than her previous attempts. It was enough for her though and she turned toward her best friend, giving him a smug look.

"I told you. I can handle it just fine."

Because being brilliant was such a bad thing. He knew he could probably give her a run if he wasn't as bad off as he was-- or if he really cared so much about English, science, and history-- but he was. So he could read Ancient Greek with ease and repeat people back to them, normally in their own voice, but that was it. So he stared her down, easily enough. Because she didn't know what it was like and never would.

Folding his arms he scowled as he watched her. At least she seemed to be listening to him. Finally. But he winced slightly when she shot and still managed to be somewhat off. So when she turned to look smugly at him he gave her a look. Shaking his head, he moved to pry the bow from her hand and grabbed an arrow. In a matter of seconds he set the arrow and shot-- not bothering to watch as it sailed through the air and hit its mark dead center.

"You took longer and you were still off," he said easily, "even the slightest bit off in a monster's armor and you'll be dead. You've got to see and do. All this theory and perfect stance isn't gonna do you much good when you go slow and still miss."

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