Harry Potter and the Fifth Year from Hell

Chapter 14 - (Hermione Interlude) Tea with Penelope

"Now he's accusing me of dripping tea on his photo of Penelope Clearwater. You know," Ron grimaced, "his girlfriend."

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Ch. 5

* * *

Hermione glowered at her reflection in the mirror above the dressing table in her dormitory room. The problem wasn't what she was wearing - her new rose-pink dress robes were actually rather nice. It wasn't her face - that was fine, with a few tiny makeup tricks. The problem was her hair - her blasted bothersome bouncy bushy boring brown hair!

"Don't frown so, ducky" said the mirror with a titter. "A bottle or two of Sleekeazy's Potion, and you'll be simply loverly."

Hermione glowered at the mirror. This looked exactly like glowering at her reflection, but required a different mental aiming. She distinctly remembered that this mirror had been perfectly sensible and pleasant when she was originally assigned to this room as a first-year. Four years of constant exposure to Lavender and Parvati had made it annoying, superficial, and far too knowledgeable about beauty aids. And if the mirror wasn't bad enough, the real things - her two dormitory mates - were right behind her, irresistibly drawn to the sight of her primping.

"You could use just a little," suggested Parvati tentatively. "You don't have to make it all straight. Just take some of the, umm, frizz, out."

Hermione glared at Parvati. "I don't have any Sleekeazy's Potion," she said shortly. She saw Parvati and Lavender looked at each other, stumped. What with Parvati's long, satin-straight hair and Lavender's soft bouncy curls, neither of them had a bottle to lend to Hermione.

"We could ask around the other years' rooms for you," offered Lavender.

"No!" Hermione hadn't planned to use any of the potion tonight. This wasn't a date, for goodness sake, it was just a - a - a social occasion - a simple dinner for the school prefects to get to know each other and form a good working relationship. She turned sideways to the mirror and drew her hair into a ponytail in the back. "I'll just have to..." She trailed off and scowled. The ponytail stuck out in all directions. She looked like a Hairy MacBoon.

"Ahhm." Parvati seemed to be trying to hide a smile. "Hermione, have you ever tried a French braid?"

"I can't do them," muttered Hermione. Her mother plaited her hair for her sometimes, but she was utterly unable to perform the complicated procedure on the back of her own head.

"Here, let me." Without asking permission, Parvati took Hermione's hair in her hands and began dividing it into sections. Hermione jumped at the touch, but Parvati just rolled her eyes and continued. She and Lavender touched each other all the time - adjusting robes, tucking ornaments in hair, fingering jewellery. Hermione wasn't used to touching anyone but her mother and father - well, she did grab hold of Harry and Ron sometimes, but generally only when she was terrified, or to stop them from doing something stupid.

Hermione watched in the mirror as Parvati's slender brown fingers flashed through her hair. The fingers slowed slightly as Parvati bit her lip.

"So... you visited Ron Weasley's house over the summer?" she asked in a casual voice. Hermione stiffened and her narrowed eyes sought Parvati's in the mirror, but the other girl kept her eyes firmly on her work.

"Yes," said Hermione challengingly.

"Were, umm, Fred and George there?"

"Of course." Hermione looked at Parvati in astonishment. Parvati's hands slowed even more in their task.

"Is it true they got their Apparating License?"

"Yes."

"Did either of them, umm, date or anything while you were there?" Hermione glanced over at Lavender in the mirror. She was smiling slightly, but looked unsurprised at Parvati's questions. Which one of them does Parvati like? Hermione wondered. Or does she even care?

"Not that I know of," said Hermione honestly. "They were out a lot after they got their Licenses."

"Did they ever - talk about any girls?" Despite her slow pace, Parvati had now reached the bottom of the braid.

"No," said Hermione slowly. She didn't think she should mention what George had said about Fred and Angelina. "Why?"

"No reason," said Parvati brightly. "There, finished."

"How about one of my butterflies to fasten it with?" proposed Lavender. Hermione concealed a shudder.

"Umm, just a simple band, I think," she said. "Thanks, Parvati - that looks very nice!" It really did. Parvati had drawn all of her hair gradually into the braid, leaving only little tendrils to frizz around her face. The tendrils would look better with some Sleekeazy's Potion, but... this is good enough for tonight. "I'd better go down."

The other two girls seemed reluctant for the dressing-up session to be over.

"Wouldn't you like to borrow a pair of earrings?" asked Parvati. Hermione started to say no, then reconsidered. With her hair all drawn back, her ears did look a little bare.

"I'll wear mine," she said. She moved to rifle through her trunk, looking for her jewellery box.

"I think there's a charm for French braids," said Lavender thoughtfully. "My cousin uses it."

Hermione tucked this information away for later consideration as she slipped on the earrings and headed down the stairs, carrying her dress cloak over her arm. Lavender and Parvati followed her. Hermione felt horribly self-conscious as she neared the common room. Everyone else was dressed in his or her everyday robes or Muggle clothes. She didn't see Angelina, or Lee, or James Arnold, the sixth-year boy who was the other new Gryffindor prefect this year. After one swift glance around the room, Hermione kept her eyes on her own feet. It wasn't that she was nervous, she told herself. It was just that it wouldn't do to trip on her floaty robes and tumble down the stairs.

Ron and Harry were lounging at their usual table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron straighten up and Harry look at him and then look over at her. She wished she could see the expression on Ron's face, but there is only so much one can see while staring at one's own feet.

"Hey, you look really nice." Harry came up to her with a teasing smile. "We're going down with you to see you off."

"Thanks, Harry," she muttered. Against her will, her gaze went over Harry's shoulder to Ron's face. He was - well, kind of looking her up and down. What would he say?

"We'd better get you down there," Ron said abruptly. "Don't want you to miss the carriages." He finally looked her in the face and flinched a little at her glare. "What?"

"If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you," snapped Hermione bitterly. Behind her, she heard Lavender stifle a giggle. Hermione turned to the two girls, who had stopped on the bottom step. "Thanks for the help."

"Our pleasure," said Parvati, smiling in what Hermione privately considered was an insufferable know-it-all way. "Have a good time." Hermione led the way to the portrait door, with Harry and Ron behind her.

*

There were five horseless carriages waiting in front of the steps to Hogwarts. Hermione, Harry, and Ron headed toward the last carriage, where Fred, George, Lee, Angelina, Katie, and Alicia were all standing. James Arnold was sitting in the carriage quietly reading a Daily Prophet. Hermione climbed in beside him and looked out the window at her friends. Harry immediately began talking to his five teammates about tomorrow's trials. He'd recently been chosen as Quidditch captain, despite being the least experienced member of the team, apparently because he was their best player. Hermione supposed that made some sense. The other players were more likely to listen to someone who was valuable to the team, and Harry definitely was that. But it was rather daft, too. Of course, the last thing Harry needed right now was another responsibility, but try telling him that... He'd just laughed when Hermione had suggested that he turn down the position, and Ron had gotten rather upset and shouted that Harry wasn't mental, even if she was.

Hermione sighed. Ron had Lee Jordan by the arm and was talking to him very earnestly. Hermione strained her ears - Ron seemed to be trying to keep his voice down, but he wasn't very good at it. She caught a few words.

"...Malfoy... ...away from Hermione... ...(a very bad word indeed)..." Lee nodded seriously. It sounded like Ron was asking Lee to protect her from big, bad Draco Malfoy. Hermione snorted. She could out-duel Lee Jordan any day - maybe Ron should be asking her to protect Lee. Ron turned his head suddenly to watch someone coming down the stairs - it was Terry Boot. Hermione's mouth opened in indignation as Ron leaned close to Lee again, jerking a thumb at Terry. "... that one... ...Ravenclaw... ...don't trust him..." Lee nodded again, and then gasped and grabbed Angelina by the hand as the line of carriages started to move.

"Hey, Angie, we're leaving. Up you go!" Lee handed Angelina up and then swung in after her. He leaned out the door, waving goodbye to Fred, George, Katie, Alicia, Harry, and Ron.

Hermione stared forward with a flushed face as the carriage moved toward the school gates, ignoring the lively conversation developing among her three companions. Ron was such a - such a - dog in the manger! He - he - he -- Hermione took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. He would do anything to keep other males away from her - anything except do something with her himself. Hermione felt her cheeks cool as her anger faded into dejection. She knew - knew - that Ron was interested in her. She'd pretty much forced him to admit it only four days ago. But nothing had happened since - nothing but a few awkward moments when she'd caught him staring at her (she stared at him too, but so far he hadn't caught her at it) and that one time at lunch when she'd accidentally touched his foot with hers and they'd both blushed bright red. Thank goodness, Harry had been preoccupied with glaring at Malfoy and hadn't noticed that one.

Hermione hunched down lower in her seat. This was as bad as the summer. She would get her hopes up, get all excited, and then nothing would happen. She'd really thought, this summer, that something must happen if she spent a whole month in his house. All those lovely summer nights - and there had been hardly any rain this August - all those evenings on the front porch, or playing chess by the fireplace. But there had been precious few times when the two of them had been alone - Harry was always with Ron, and Ginny was usually with Hermione. Finally, on the last night of the holiday, Hermione had snapped. It had been such a marvelous, romantic night, with the fairies flitting around and the intoxicating breezes of a distant thunderstorm. There she was, with - well really with four attractive males, though personally she wouldn't have Fred Weasley if you served him up on a golden Hogwarts platter - and not the slightest trace of romance, or even flirting. It was as if they didn't even notice that she was a girl. Except for the time she'd gone sunbathing... and that had been even worse - driving Fred and George to smirking idiocy, Harry to bland-faced silence, and Ron to... to hardly speak to her for the rest of the summer. So she'd deliberately brought up Viktor Krum, but that hadn't worked, either. Nothing had. Probably nothing ever would. She was doomed to a dateless, loveless, completely celibate life. Forever.

Hermione shook off her brooding and looked around with interest as the carriage reached the Hog's Head Inn. Hermione had never been here before - students generally went to the Three Broomsticks for butterbeer. But the Three Broomsticks was a tiny building, with only a room or two upstairs. The Hog's Head - despite the shady reputation of its public room - was the principal inn of the village. It had a front on the road, with a wide arch leading to a courtyard between two wings behind, and on the left of the arch there was a large doorway reached by a few broad steps. Above the arch there was a lamp, and beneath it hung the painted head of a huge black pig, looking surprisingly cheerful for one who had been decapitated. The carriages proceeded through the arch and jolted to a stop in the courtyard.

Professors Flitwick and Sprout were waiting for them in the entrance hall. A babble of voices and cheerful song emerged from the open door into the notorious public room where, Hermione recalled, Hagrid had won the dragon's egg. But the two professors ushered the prefects through a different door into a quiet room. The private dining room was large, and pleasant enough. Hugh Summers sat at one end of the table and Sarah Fawcett at the other. Hermione found her place marked by a parchment card with her name on it. She was sitting between a seventh-year Slytherin boy and Eloise Midgen, a sixth-year Hufflepuff girl famous around school for once having accidentally removed her nose while trying to curse off her acne spots. Flitwick and Sprout closed the door and vanished into the smoke and noise of the other room. They were on their own.

Hermione frankly enjoyed the evening. The dinner was simple but delicious, and the other prefects were entertaining in a mature, totally non-Ron Weasley-type way. Even better, Eloise Midgen was one of Hermione's few S.P.E.W. supporters and Hermione had a marvelous time discussing elves with her. Hermione realized guiltily that she'd been neglecting the fight for elf rights ever since Voldemort had returned, and she resolved to do better in the future. It was simply a matter of priorities, and organizing one's time. There was no reason she shouldn't be able to prepare herself (and the two boys) for the OWLs, help Harry survive Voldemort's nefarious schemes, do her duty as Gryffindor prefect, and still work for inter-species justice. And keep up with all eleven of her courses. And find out who had torched her house. Hermione sighed. Maybe she should be glad she didn't look like having any sort of a love life this year - she really didn't have time for one.

Reminded by the thought of her burned house, Hermione glanced narrow-eyed at Draco Malfoy across the table. This was one of the few times she'd ever seen him on his own, without his friends Crabbe and Goyle. He seemed quiet and watchful, limiting his offensiveness to eating with elaborately polite table manners that were a silent rebuke to nearly everyone else at the table. As the dinner progressed, however, he was drawn into a lively Quidditch conversation between Angelina Johnson and Hugh Summers, actually siding with Angelina in defending the honour of the Tutshill Tornados against the rival claims of the Caerphilly Catapults. Hermione wondered idly if Malfoy's support of the Tornados implied that his home was somewhere in Gloucestershire. Not that she planned to burn it down or anything...

Cho Chang was sitting on Hugh Summers' other side. Hermione regarded from under her eyelashes, wondering if Harry was still interested in her, or whether the Cedric Diggory tragedy had put him off the idea. Hermione hadn't seen him looking at Cho so far this term, but Harry was usually pretty good at hiding his feelings. Well, the signs weren't encouraging tonight, if Harry was still interested. Cho was silent and downcast, looking almost on the edge of tears. It was perfectly obvious that she was thinking of Cedric, who would have been sitting in Hugh's place as Head Boy if he had lived.

On the ride home, Hermione was surprised to find herself involved in rather a pleasant conversation with James Arnold. Under his stolid exterior, he concealed a sly sense of humour and a passionate interest in the history of magic. They were exchanging hilarious quips about Professor Binns's shortcomings as a teacher when they were interrupted by a sudden exclamation from Angelina.

"Hey, who is that out canoodling by the gates?" She leaned out the window, muttering, "Fred Weasley, if that's..." Her face relaxed slightly. "Must be George - he's out there with Alicia."

Lee, who had been grinning at Angelina, frowned suddenly and thrust his head out the other window. "What? - where?"

Hermione craned her neck to look too. Two figures were silhouetted against the full moon on top of one of the gateposts. The girl was climbing onto one of the flying pig statues; the boy, whose hair definitely glinted with Weasley red, was giving her a boost. Both of them turned their heads and waved as the carriage approached.

"Angie!" shouted the boy (Hermione recognized the voice as Fred's), "quick - open the carriage door!"

Angelina got the door open just as the carriage passed the magically opening gate. There was a huge "fwomp" as something heavy landed on top of the roof, and the carriage swayed dangerously as Fred Weasley jumped through the open doorway and landed on James Arnold's lap.

"Oops - sorry about that, lad!" he said cheerfully. He leaned his head out of the window on the other side. "Alicia? All right up there?"

"I'm all right," Alicia's voice called. "Can you lot give me a hand down? It's bloody cold up here."

With much laughing and not a little cursing, Alicia's friends hauled her in safely. As soon as they were all settled in seats, Angelina asked, rather frostily, "And what were you two up to?"

"Waiting for you, of course," replied Fred without a trace of self-consciousness. "We missed you so much we had to come out and meet you."

"But it's after midnight," said James blankly, exchanging a helpless glance with Hermione. "You're not allowed out on the grounds at this hour. You'll get in troub..." He trailed off as Fred, Angelina, Alicia, and Lee all turned to stare at him in surprise.

"Oh, that's all right," said Alicia serenely, "as long as we don't meet any prefects." Hermione looked around at the carriage full of prefects and thought of the four carriages ahead of them stuffed as full as they could hold with prefects, head boys, head girls, and professors. Alicia seemed to read her mind, and grinned.

"Don't worry - we hid in the rose bushes until all the other carriages had gone by. Good on you for being last, by the way."

Lee grumbled something that sounded like, "rose bushes, huh?" Hermione didn't say anything. If Angelina and Lee couldn't control their friends, she wasn't even going to try. She'd have her hands full enough this year trying to keep her own best friends from breaking too many rules.

Though Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout met them when the carriage let them down at the stone steps, they didn't say anything about Fred's or Alicia's unauthorized presence. The only person who seemed to notice was Draco Malfoy, who spun around at the sound of Fred's cheerful greeting to the two professors and glared at them from the pool of light just outside the door to the entrance hall. He opened his mouth to say something, but was forestalled by Fred, who waved to him and smiled.

"Malfoy! Is that the cloak we saw you ordering in Madam Malkin's?" Malfoy closed his mouth with a snap and disappeared abruptly through the door of the castle. Fred turned back to the others, looking perturbed.

"Lee, we warned him, but he did it anyway," he said. "He got that green lining after all, and damned if it doesn't make him look sallow!" He shook his head sadly. "George will be so disappointed."

*

Less than eight hours later, Hermione was in the Quidditch stands, huddled in a blanket next to Ginny Weasley. Ginny's classmates Stephanie Lee and Susannah Weiss were huddled on Ginny's other side. Gryffindor had the first time slot for the Quidditch trials, which meant that it was held much too early in the morning. It looked to Hermione like most of the House was out in the stadium, either shivering with cold in the stands or shivering with pre-trial nerves down on the pitch. The existing team - Harry, the Weasley twins, and the three Chasers - were conferring with Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall in a purposeful-looking clot near one end of the pitch. The hopeful candidates were milling about in the middle of the field. Hermione craned her neck to look at Ron, who was talking animatedly to Dean and Seamus, making them laugh despite their obvious nervousness. Lee Jordan was pacing around by himself, looking extremely tense.

There was a huge turnout for this, the first opening in the Gryffindor team since Harry had joined it. Besides Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Lee, Hermione saw three sixth-year girls, Ginny's dormitory mate Sophie Greene and two fourth-year boys, two third-year boys, and no less than five second-years.

"I'm surprised to see Lee down there," Hermione murmured to Ginny. "I thought he loved announcing."

"Fred and George talked him into it," Ginny said. "They've been coaching him every night since we got back to school, just like Harry has with Ron." She chuckled. "They had no clue Ron was planning to try out. They're such idiots - it was obvious he was practicing for it all summer."

Hermione gave Ginny a considering look. "It sounds like you knew everything," she said. Hermione knew that Ron hadn't wanted Ginny to know he was trying out for the team.

"Well, I wouldn't have survived this long if I couldn't suss out my older brothers," said Ginny complacently. "Oh, look, they're starting!"

Hermione surreptitiously brought out her book on the Order of the Phoenix and began reading. The trials were very repetitive, and she knew she could depend on Ginny to tell her when there was anything worth watching.

"Oooh!" One of the two girls on Ginny's other side squealed annoyingly. "There goes Sophie - she's making her move on your brother, Ginny!" She pointed, not up into the air, but down to the grass of the Quidditch pitch. The other girl giggled. Hermione felt herself stiffen as she looked up from her book to see a brunette, curly-haired girl smiling up at Ron where he stood waiting his turn. Beside her, she felt a jerk as Ginny elbowed her friend.

"Shhh," Ginny hissed. There were more smothered giggles from Susannah and Stephanie. Hermione scowled - she had always thought the other girls in Ginny's year were terrible, boy-crazy gigglers. Down on the pitch, Ron grinned and gestured with the arm that wasn't holding his broom. Apparently it was the punch line of a joke, because Sophie Greene threw back her head and roared with laughter. Hermione sniffed. Ron was funny, but he wasn't that funny - could that girl Sophie be any more obvious if she tried?

The trials seemed to Hermione to go on forever, but at last they ended. As far as she could tell, Ron and Dean had done better than anyone else by far. It was a pleasure to Hermione to see a Muggle-born student fly as well as Dean could - Muggle-borns were terribly underrepresented on the House Quidditch teams - but naturally, she was rooting heart and soul for Ron. She knew how hard it was for him to put himself on the line like this; he was much more comfortable joking around than trying his hardest when there was a possibility of failure. His face had been so tense and white during his turn in the air that she had nearly bitten her lip through watching him. But he had done wonderfully! - or at least, she thought so...

Hermione turned to Ginny for reassurance, as they climbed down from the stands. "Ron did really well, didn't he?"

"Oh, yes!" said Ginny, her face glowing with sisterly pride and Quidditch fervour. "Didn't you see how he was the only one who stopped the Quaffle when Katie and Alicia did the Porskoff Ploy? He was brilliant!"

Hermione could never remember exactly what a Porskoff Ploy was, but this sounded good. "So, he'll be the one who makes the team, right?" she asked. A small frown flickered across Ginny's face.

"Well, Dean was awfully good, too," she said reluctantly. "He can really pass! And Sophie was awesome. And Natalie MacDonald..." Seeing Hermione's anxious face, Ginny smiled. "I'm sure McGonagall and Hooch will pick Ron," she said reassuringly. "He did the best at keeping the Quaffle out of the hoop, and that's what matters for a Keeper."

With that, Hermione had to be satisfied. Harry and Ron flew over to them, grinning, and Ginny immediately changed the subject. Apparently the etiquette of sports competition demanded that the whole issue now be completely ignored until the team was announced. Hermione knew that Harry was supposed to meet with Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall before dinner to make the final decision, but neither Harry nor Ron so much as mentioned the word "Quidditch" for the rest of the day. Hermione feared that she would never understand boys. Or was it the wizarding world she would never understand? Or maybe it was just sports?

*

A moist breeze heavy with the promise of rain moved across the Hogwarts grounds as Hermione and Ginny walked to Hagrid's cabin for tea with Penelope Clearwater. In the shrubbery around the front steps, first year students were gingerly destroying Flesh-Eating Slugs, supervised by Professor Weasley. She nodded to Ginny and Hermione, and then rushed to the aid of a student.

"Finnigan! You're supposed to kill it, not catch it for a pet." She dashed the creature from Patrick Finnigan's hand onto the grass and let out a stream of sparks that turned it to a smoking ember. "Quick - take your glove off! These little buggers can eat through dragon hide too, you know!" Patrick threw his glove to the ground with a surprised scream of pain.

As Patrick Finnigan set off for the Infirmary, sucking his acid-burned finger and bravely blinking back tears, Professor Weasley turned back to Ginny and Hermione.

"Are you off to tea with Penelope then?" At their nod, she continued. "Well, tell her my first-years have almost finished with the slugs here. I'll be glad to get my second-years to work on that Glumbumble nest, if she still needs it. By the way, I hope you're peckish - she's been baking all day." Ginny's face brightened. Hermione had noticed before that Ginny had an amazing appetite for one so thin and small.

Near Hagrid's cabin was the corral where the Beauxbaton horses had been kept. In their place, Professor Grubbly-Plank had stabled some smaller grey winged horses known as Granians, which they were studying in Care of Magical Creatures. Hermione wondered why she bothered to fence in the graceful creatures, since they could obviously fly away any time they wanted to.

"Ginny! Hey, Ginny!" A boy who was sitting on the fence admiring the Granians hailed them. Ginny blushed.

"That's Ian - you can finally meet him," she whispered to Hermione. She walked quickly over to join the boy, and Hermione followed, looking at him curiously. She could see why Ginny had said Ian was "cute" - it was the perfect word for him. He had a fresh boyish face, curly brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a killer set of dimples. His well-cut, expensive-looking robes bore a Slytherin crest.

"Hermione, this is Ian St. Clair," said Ginny, very correctly. "Ian, this is Hermione Granger." The boy jumped off the fence to shake hands with Hermione. She could tell from his expression that he knew who she was. She scanned his face for any sign of prejudice against Muggle-borns, but his manners were too smooth for her to guess what he was thinking. He smiled winningly.

"Pleased to meet you, Hermione. I'm giving them sugar - would you like some?" He held out his left hand, displaying a pile of white sugar cubes. Hermione retreated a step.

"Oh - no - thank you," she said hastily. He held the hand out to Ginny next. She reached eagerly for some cubes, but then started guiltily as Penelope Clearwater opened the door of Hagrid's hut and looked out.

"We'd better go, Ian," she said. "Penelope is expecting us for tea." Ginny quickly leaned over the fence and offered her flattened palm to the nearest equine, which lipped at it delicately. Ginny's expressive face softened as she looked at the animal. The Slytherin boy watched Ginny with a little smile on his face. Hermione looked away and waved at Penelope.

"It was nice to meet you, Ian," she said to the boy. "Come on, Ginny."

As they stepped over the threshold into Hagrid's cabin, Hermione halted in shock. The inside of the cabin didn't look much different, though there was a striking lack of dead animals hanging from the rafters. It was the smell that had changed. Hagrid's cabin had always smelled of blood and wood smoke and wet dog and, well, Hagrid. The boys had never seemed to notice, but Hermione always had to take a deep breath before she walked through the door. Today, it smelled like ironed cotton and lemons and beeswax and freshly baked scones - Hermione inhaled with delight.

"Ginny. Hermione. Come in and sit down," said Penelope, a little breathlessly. Fang sniffed at them eagerly, wagging his tail, but looking, Hermione thought, disappointed that Harry wasn't with them. Penelope led them to Hagrid's table, which was groaning with breads and sweets.

"Wow, Penny, this place looks great!" exclaimed Ginny. "Did the House Elves clean it up for you?"

"Oh, no," said Penelope hastily, with a little sideways glance at Hermione. "I've been trying out wizarding housekeeping techniques. There's so much you can do! They ought to teach it at Hogwarts."

"Yes," Hermione said, nodding eagerly. "I think they forget how many of us are Muggle-born and don't learn that kind of stuff from our parents. There should be a class called Wizard Studies where we could learn regular, day-to-day magic that you lot" - she nodded at Ginny - "take for granted."

"Oh, you just want another class to take," teased Ginny, "so you can get even more OWLs." Hermione made a face at Ginny, but smiled.

"Ginny, you don't know what it's like to be Muggle-born," said Penelope seriously. "Hermione, were you terrified when you got your Hogwarts letter? I sure was."

"Not terrified exactly," said Hermione, "but I was very anxious and curious. It was better when we finally went to Diagon Alley and I could see what wizards were like. And read some books, of course."

"Books really helped," said Penelope, nodding vigorously. "Did you read Muggle books, too?"

"Before I got my real books, I read everything I could find with 'wizard' in the title or on the book cover," Hermione admitted with a grin. "T.H. White and Terry Pratchett and Ursula LeGuin."

"Mary Stewart," added Penelope eagerly. "Marion Zimmer Bradley - everything about Merlin."

Ginny looked from Hermione to Penelope, obviously completely lost. They tried to explain fantasy fiction to her.

"But Merlin was a real person," said Ginny, confused. "Why do they call it a fantasy?"

"They have it all mixed up," said Hermione earnestly. "I mean, some true things obviously got through, but they have some crazy ideas."

"Like most of the books make a big difference between women's magic and men's magic," put in Penelope. "As if they were different kinds or something. I was really surprised when I found out that 'witch' really just means the same as 'wizard,' but female."

"Yeah, and they have that thing about celibacy," added Hermione. "I was shocked when I found out real wizards get married and have kids and everything. In most of those books, you have sex and - bang! - there go your magic powers."

Ginny and Hermione laughed heartily, but Penelope frowned. Hermione gave her a curious look.

"What's wrong?"

Penelope looked from Hermione to Ginny. "Neither of you have had your fifth-year assembly yet, have you? The one where they talk about that kind of thing?"

"No..." said Hermione slowly. "We're having it later this month. What are you trying to tell us? I know witches and wizards don't have to stay virgins."

"Penelope!" Ginny narrowed her eyes. "You're not trying to feed us that old line that your powers stop growing when you, umm, become experienced? That's just a way to keep teenagers in line!" She frowned. "Isn't it?"

"It's not a superstition!" snapped Penelope, flushing angrily. "McGonagall and Sprout explained it all to us at the assembly. Your magic grows most rapidly during your teenage years, after you reach puberty. That's why they don't even try to teach kids magic until they reach eleven - most of them couldn't do it anyway. And you know that seventh-years have much stronger powers than first-years."

"Sure," said Ginny impatiently. "But why would - you know - that - make your magic stop growing? I don't believe it."

"It's true," said Penelope shortly. "After you're about eighteen, your magic grows a lot more slowly, but it does keep growing. If you want to be a very powerful wizard, like Dumbledore... well, you have to let it keep growing."

Hermione's eyes rounded in sudden understanding. This certainly would explain some references that had puzzled her in her reading. But Ginny had crossed her arms and was looking stubborn. Penelope tossed her head.

"Well, you may not believe it, Ginny, but your brother certainly does!" Hermione had an immediate, strong feeling of I don't want to hear about this, but Ginny sat up alertly and pounced.

"Is that why you broke off with him then? Because he wouldn't - stop his magic from growing?" Penelope flushed and started picking up the tea plates. Hermione suppressed an urge to put her hands over her ears and hum.

"There were a lot of reasons," muttered Penelope, carrying plates to the basin. Ginny rose to help her.

"Would you tell us about it?" coaxed Ginny. Her mood seemed changed in an instant from stubborn scepticism to sympathetic concern. "Percy wouldn't say anything about it this summer. But he's completely miserable. If he was beastly to you... I'm sure he'll apologize if you'll let him."

Penelope bent over the basin. She seemed to have forgotten her newly learned housekeeping magic and was washing up in the Muggle manner. After a long pause, she spoke.

"He - we had our first row ever after the Yule Ball last year. I had gotten new dress robes, and of course I didn't have a date. When he told me he was coming instead of Mr. Crouch, I was so excited..." Penelope pushed her long curls behind her shoulders with a soapy hand. "And then he - circulated - I suppose is what he calls it. He danced exactly two dances with me, and went around chatting up all the important people. I didn't even get a chance to show him my garden."

"Yes, I noticed what a prat he was being," said Ginny sympathetically. "But you forgave him?"

"I sent him a very stiff letter," said Penelope with a little smile. She dried her hands and turned to face the two girls, leaning back against the basin. "Then, when he came back to Hogwarts for the second task, he - well, he paid proper attention to me that time. In fact, he sort of... well, in a way, he asked me to marry him."

Ginny gave a little squeal. Hermione blinked. Penelope was still only eighteen and Percy was only nineteen. That seemed awfully young to be getting married.

"He never said a word about that," gasped Ginny. "Did you say 'yes'?"

"Oh, he didn't exactly ask me," said Penelope. "He just said he thought we should get married some day. He didn't ask me if I thought so too, but I expect he could tell that I did. I mean, I didn't disagree." She blushed.

"Sooo..." drawled Ginny invitingly. "What went wrong?" Penelope began to wipe the wooden table carefully with a damp cloth, letting her hair fall across her face.

"I was leaving school and I wanted to work with the Ministry of Magic - and the only job I was offered was in the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"Percy's department," confirmed Ginny. "But why was that a problem? Did Percy mind or something?"

"No -" said Penelope. "But - I couldn't live with my parents..." She broke off and looked at Hermione. "Oh, you don't know about it. Well, my father is - well - he has a big mouth. After the third time he told other Muggles about me being a witch, the Ministry had to Obliviate him - wipe out all his knowledge of the wizarding world. He's - he's a radio presenter, you see, so it could be disastrous."

"Oh, Penelope, that must be terrible," said Hermione. She couldn't imagine keeping her magic a secret from her own father.

"Well, I'm used to it now," shrugged Penelope. "Mum knows, but we have to keep it secret from my dad. If I lived with them, I couldn't do any magic at all." Hermione shuddered. It was bad enough not being able to do magic in summers. To be a qualified adult witch and not be able to do magic would be unbearable.

"Anyway," Penelope blushed and ducked her face again, "I thought maybe Percy would get a flat and maybe ask me to live with him - in London, close to our jobs. And then, when Professor Dumbledore told us about You-Know-Who, suddenly everything seemed so - dangerous, all of a sudden." She looked straight at Hermione. "Since I was Petrified in my fifth year, everyone knows I'm Muggle-born. It was even in The Daily Prophet." Hermione nodded understandingly. She could identify with that. Penelope went on, haltingly.

"I suppose, if I were a better person, I would have wanted to stay far away from Percy - to keep from endangering him. But, it made me want to - grab life while I still could. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was be with him, all the time. I even thought maybe we should just go ahead and get married now. So I stopped waiting to see if he would ask me to live with him - and I asked him."

"Uhh, what did he say?" asked Ginny nervously. Anger flashed across Penelope's face.

"Oh, you would have thought I'd asked him to kiss a skrewt!" snapped Penelope. "He was all - 'of course I want to marry you, in about three or four years,' and 'I really need to bring my powers to full strength if I'm going to reach my potential in my career'." Ginny closed her eyes and shook her head disgustedly. "So then I tried to explain to him about Voldemort and trying to grab life, and - he laughed!" Penelope's voice was so indignant that Fang raised his head and whined. "He told me not to be silly - that it was just a wild rumour and the Minister of Magic had personally assured him that everything was under control."

"Oh, Percy-you-prat," Ginny muttered under her breath. Penelope went on without seeming to hear her.

"So I told him if his career was all he cared about - if he cared more about his job than he did me - that I hoped they would be very happy together. Then I told him I never wanted to see him again, and I left. And he let me." Penelope bit her lip, close to tears. Hermione concentrated on reassuring Fang until Penelope had recovered herself.

"After that, I couldn't work in the same department as him, so I turned down that job. And I wouldn't live at home. So... I was here, checking on my rose bushes - do you know about that?"

Hermione nodded. Penelope had designed the rose garden that had decorated the grounds for the Yule Ball as a project for school, with help from Professors Sprout and Flitwick. After the Ball, Dumbledore had asked her to adapt it as a permanent installation and to do something similar around the front gates.

"Somehow, I found myself telling the Headmaster that I didn't know where to go, and he offered me a temporary job as Groundskeeper until Hagrid returns." Penelope smiled at them. "I had it all looking smashing, until you lot came back and started trampling everything. Someone's just done some awful damage to the new young plants by the front gate." Hermione looked away, thinking of Fred and Alicia the night before. Probably best not to say anything.

"Oh Penny," said Ginny softly. "I wish - is there any way you can get back together?"

"I don't think so," said Penelope, her face pale. "I've had to face facts - Percy may love me as much as he can love a girl, but that's not very much, is it? Compared to his ambitions."

Ginny looked as if she would like to deny this statement, but she couldn't find the right words. Fang raised his head and looked alertly at the door. There was a tentative knock.

"Miss Clearwater? Er, Miss Clearwater - are you there?" Penelope frowned in a puzzled way and went to the door. Fang backed cautiously behind Hermione as Penelope pulled the door open.

"Oh, Mr. Gudgeon. How are you? Won't you come in?" She backed up, conducting in a youngish wizard in bright blue robes. He had dark curly hair and a narrow handsome face, marred only by a horrible scar beside his right eye.

"I see you have a dog... oh!" Mr. Gudgeon winced as Fang put his paws on his shoulders and licked his face. "Nice doggy - down. Oh dear, I'm sorry. I see you have company," he said.

Penelope introduced Ginny and Hermione. "We were just leaving," said Hermione.

"No need to leave on my account," said Mr. Gudgeon pleasantly. "I'm a few minutes early for a meeting with Professor Dumbledore, and I couldn't pass up the chance to try one more time with Miss Clearwater." He turned to Penelope. "That position is still open. We haven't found anyone else as qualified as you. Frankly, we haven't found anyone else qualified, period. Your knowledge of languages is almost unique. Is there any way --?"

Penelope interrupted him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Gudgeon, but it's quite impossible. I have personal reasons - I'm sure you'll understand." Mr. Gudgeon looked as if he didn't understand at all, but he was too polite to say so.

"Of course," he said. "I won't press you. But if you change your mind, please owl me." Penelope promised, and saw them out the door. Mr. Gudgeon politely escorted Ginny and Hermione back to the castle, raising a large black umbrella that did little to protect them from the misting rain.

"So you are Percy Weasley's sister?" he enquired cheerfully. "A very, umm, able wizard - very hard worker. We could use more like him in my department; it - great elephants!" Ginny and Hermione looked at him curiously. He was staring at the group of first years by the front steps, just finished with the slug-killing duty. Or, more specifically, he was staring at the bright red head of Anne Weasley, towering above her students as they gathered around her for a final word. Gudgeon's jaw was dropped in an attitude of total stupefaction.

"Is that - can that be Annie Weasley?" he asked in a choked voice. Ginny stared at him curiously.

"Yes," she said. "She's teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"I - I thought she was in Africa," he said. "I had no idea." He looked pale and frightened. Hermione, remembering a scrap of conversation at the Weasleys' dinner table, concealed a smile. She turned to Ginny.

"We should hurry," she said. Mr. Gudgeon had come to a stop on the grounds. He didn't seem to notice Hermione and Ginny leaving.

As soon as they were safely within the front doors, Hermione and Ginny burst into giggles. Hermione shook her head.

"This is certainly the afternoon for Weasley romances," she teased. "Percy and Penny, Professor Weasley and Mr. Gudgeon... you and Ian." Ginny blushed.

"Well, if Percy and Annie are anything to go by, Ian and I don't stand a chance. What did you think of him, really?"

Hermione said nice things about the Slytherin boy, but inwardly she was surprised. This was the first time Ginny had seemed to acknowledge that she was really interested in Ian. She had been flustered and excited when he had caught up to her in the corridor on their first night back at school, and had insisted on telling Hermione every word of their conversation, convinced that she'd made a fool of herself, and eager for Hermione to reassure her that she hadn't. But Hermione had thought that Ginny didn't feel anything more for the boy than she herself had felt for Viktor - a kind of flattered gratitude. But now... a vague anxiety fluttered through her. He was charming and cute, but... he was a Slytherin - a rich Slytherin, in the same social grouping as Draco Malfoy. Was his interest in Ginny genuine, or - something else?

"When did you get to know Ian?" she asked curiously. If he suddenly started pursuing her after Voldemort's return...

"Last year, in Care of Magical Creatures," said Ginny nonchalantly. "I would stay after class to help Hagrid, and he usually would too. He's really interested in magical creatures - his mother breeds Crups. You might have heard of her - Calantha St. Clair?" Hermione shook her head; she knew that a Crup was a magical, forked-tailed dog, but that was about all she knew about them.

"They have winged horses, too!" said Ginny excitedly. "They'll be getting a Thestral foal from Germany as soon as it's old enough to be weaned - can you imagine? I've never seen one." She snickered. "So to speak." Hermione understood the joke - Thestrals had the power of invisibility.

"Well," said Hermione uncertainly, "you both love animals, I suppose. Umm - have you told anyone in your family about him?" The Weasleys would know if the St. Clair family had ever been suspected of Dark associations.

Ginny frowned. "No, and don't you say a word to Ron. You know how he is about Slytherins. Fred or George, either. They can just mind their own business for a change."

Hermione nodded and didn't reply.

*

An hour later, Hermione sat by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, surreptitiously watching Ron. He was sprawled on the room's only couch, idly practicing Charms. With each flick of his wrist, he sent a silvery bird shape from the end of his wand fluttering across the room and out an open window. Crookshanks watched in an agony of frustrated desire, twitching his tail angrily each time another of the "birds" flew by too high for him to reach. Ginny's new kitten, Raffles, was stalking Crookshanks's twitching tail - there was likely to be an unfortunate confrontation in a minute or two. Most of the Quidditch team candidates were hanging around the common room, occupying themselves in similarly undemanding ways. At this very moment, Harry was meeting with Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall to choose the new Keeper and reserves.

Ron was so - long. With both his legs stretched out, he took up the whole couch, even though he was sitting up. Hermione studied him from under her lashes. She wasn't really able to judge if he were handsome, or funny looking, or what. For so long, he had been her good friend, always a pleasure to see - except in third year, when he hadn't been talking to her. Then, it had hurt to look at him. But now... it hurt too, in a different way. Don't think about that.

With Harry gone like this, she was reminded of the many evenings he had been out at Quidditch practice - six or seven days a week for weeks at a time. She and Ron usually sat quietly together (unless they were mad at each other) - doing homework or playing chess or just talking. It was good to have time for the two of them. When Harry was around, they tended to focus on him - Ron trying to entertain him and cheer him up, and Hermione - well, let's be honest - fussing and worrying over him.

And if the two of them were ever to... well, since they had had the conversation about Terry Boot, they hadn't been alone together at all. Harry was always around, making it impossible for them to come to any understanding even if they wanted to. If she could be alone with Ron, maybe she would have the courage to... Or - maybe not. Anyway, it was a given that nothing would ever happen if they were always with Harry.

Despite Ron's casual attitude, his face was tense. Hermione wasn't fooled. He was waiting in an agony of anxiety to learn his fate. She tried not to be hurt. Of course he would want to make the team. He loved Quidditch. He would love to play with Harry, and to be a house Quidditch player like Charlie, Fred, and George before him. It didn't mean he hadn't enjoyed spending time alone with her. He probably hadn't even thought about that part of it yet. Hermione jumped - Ron had suddenly jerked upright, his feet thumping on the floor. Had he seen her watching him? But no - he was staring at the door with a painful intensity.

Hermione spun around. Harry was climbing through the portrait hole. The huge grin on his face as he locked eyes with Ron told the whole story. Hermione's evenings alone with Ron had just vanished forever.

* * *

Next Chapter: The Direction Writer

In which Harry and Ron flagrantly break rules (in defiance of the wise advice of a Gryffindor prefect) and the Dursleys actually do something.