Harry Potter and the Fifth Year from Hell

Chapter 20 - (Hermione Interlude) The Best-Laid Plans

Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Ch. 12

* * *

Hermione perched on the edge of Professor McGonagall's sofa and watched Ron pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. Remus Lupin sat hunched in the chair on her left, frowning at the floor in front of him. He was obviously worried over what Sirius was telling Harry right now.

Hermione cleared her throat. She would go insane if somebody didn't say something soon. "So, Professor... why did you become a Certified Apparition Trainer?"

"Call me Remus," he said automatically. "Err - what?"

"Why did you get a license to teach Apparition?" Hermione repeated. "Did you always want to be a teacher?"

"Oh... no. Well, yes, actually," said Remus, a little surprised, "but that's not why I went for my Trainer certificate. It was because of the work I was doing for Dumbledore in the war. Trainer certification is the only kind of advanced Apparition training available. Several of us..."

Ron halted in his pacing and looked interested, but Remus stopped and stood up.

"I think I'll go see if Harry is ready. You two wait here. I'm sure you'll be all right. I'll be back soon." He Disapparated.

"Well, he's in a right state," said Ron. "I wanted to ask him what exactly he did for Dumbledore during the war."

Hermione looked at Ron resentfully. He looked so relaxed, standing there with his hands in his pockets - it drove her mad. Why did he have to be cool all the time? Here she was, all worried about what Harry might be hearing, and... and they were alone together for the first time in forever, and he wasn't even nervous...

"So, errr..." Ron's voice cracked slightly, and he started again. "So what do we do now?" He looked around the flat, and his face brightened as it fell on the table in front of the hearth. "Look!" He pointed to the chessboard laid out ready. "The board is set."

Hermione rose to look more closely. "And the pieces are moving," she said. The chessmen on the table had noticed Ron's interest and were signalling their eagerness to play. The pawns were shaking their spears at each other, and the knights were making little charging motions on their steeds. Hermione could hear their tiny voices shouting.

"Want to play a game?" Ron suggested.

"A game?" Hermione thought quickly. "Do you think we have time? I mean, Professor Lupin said he'd be back soon..."

"Oh, I don't know." Ron grinned wickedly. "If it goes anything like our last one..."

Hermione flushed. The only time she had played Ron with her lovely new chess pieces, he'd beaten her in something under ten minutes, a new record.

"Hey, stop worrying about it," said Ron, more kindly. "You'll get used to them - you were listening to them too much. Remember, your chessmen will always care more about not being taken than they do about winning the game. You just have to -"

"I know that," said Hermione irritably. Her new chess pieces had just sounded so reasonable when they'd argued her moves - so different from Harry's rude ones. The queen especially, with her lovely cultured voice... But Ron was right - the player, not the pieces, had to be in charge. She stood up. Maybe they should play chess. It would be interesting to see how well Ron would do without his own beloved chessmen.

But Ron was now looking down to the street from the front window. "Look, Hermione - you can see the Three Broomsticks from here. I wish we could go down and have a Butterbeer."

Immediately, Hermione protested, "Remus told us to stay here -" but Ron cut her off with an impatient look.

"I know. I said 'I wish'." He raised a finger and traced the mullions of the window. "You know, last weekend..."

"What?" Hermione joined him at the window and looked down at the empty street below.

Ron stared at his finger stroking the wood. "Last weekend, if we hadn't been going to have the Apparating lessons, I wanted - I mean, I wished..." He looked quickly down at her, and then away again. "I even talked to Harry about it."

"About what?" asked Hermione, confused. What on earth was he going on about?

Ron shoved his hands in his pockets again and turned away from the window. "Nothing," he said, scowling now. The tips of his ears were pink. "So do you want to play or not?"

"Okay," said Hermione, trailing him to the little table. She had a feeling she was missing something, but what?

Ron threw himself down in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace and pushed the king's pawn forward. Hermione sat down more slowly and mimicked his move. This was the opening they used most often, the one she knew best. She leaned forward and concentrated on countering Ron's rapid, seemingly careless moves.

Hermione gradually relaxed as the game developed into knotty position play and their pace slowed. Professor McGonagall's chess pieces were quiet and obedient, although they had a way of raising their eyebrows disapprovingly that was disconcertingly reminiscent of their owner. Hermione looked around the flat as Ron's hand hovered over his castle. It was brighter and more modern than Hermione would have expected from her professor, but the walls of books gave it a scholarly air. A wave of guilt shook Hermione as a familiar volume caught her eye. She should be back at Hogwarts revising, not sitting here playing chess. Or, at least, she should be doing the supplemental reading for Transfiguration - she had been humiliated the previous week, when Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones had done the extra reading and she hadn't. Everyone back at Hogwarts would be working right now - everyone but her, who needed it the most. Surely Professor McGonagall wouldn't mind if she read from one of her books -

"Hermione?" Ron was looking at her with a raised brow. "Anybody home in there? Your turn." He tapped the chessboard with his finger.

"Oh, yes..." Hermione scanned the board quickly. Ron hadn't moved that castle after all; what... He had moved a knight instead, forking her castle and bishop. He can't. The knight smirked up at her. Hermione's brow furrowed and she bent all her attention on the board again.

Ten minutes later, she seized an opportunity and moved her bishop. "Check!"

"Wait." Ron put his hand on hers before she could take it off the bishop. She looked up at him, startled. He pulled his hand back a bit and frowned. "You don't want to do that."

"Why not?" she said challengingly, wondering why he looked embarrassed. Was he trying to trick her or something?

"That's mate in two moves for me... look." He pointed to his queen.

Hermione looked down - her king was nodding urgently in confirmation of Ron's statement. "Oh!" He was right. She flushed. "Well, I'll have to do it now, won't I? Your game."

"No you don't," said Ron quickly. "You haven't taken your hand off yet - that's the rule."

"Well, you're not supposed to tell me!" said Hermione hotly. "I don't want to win that way."

Infuriatingly, Ron laughed. "Oh, you won't win," he said, "but you're doing well - you could hold out for a while yet."

Hermione took her hand off with a toss of her head. "No thank you. I concede."

Ron shrugged. "All right, then." He began setting up the pieces in their original positions. Hermione helped him. Her right hand was still tingling where Ron had touched it. She felt a blush rising in her cheeks and let her hair fall over her face to cover it. She concentrated on the chess piece in her hand. Pretty. Nice carving.

Ron broke the momentary silence. "I wonder what Sirius is telling Harry?"

"I imagine he'll tell us," said Hermione. "He always does. Well... usually."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, he doesn't tell us everything. Not straight away."

"I wish..." Hermione stopped. What did she wish? That Harry's life wasn't so horrid? That he would talk about his feelings? That they could help more? Something.

"This was nice, playing chess," she said shyly. "We don't get much chance to do that any more." She studied Professor McGonagall's queen - it looked a bit like the professor herself.

"Yeah," said Ron. "Quidditch practices. And all those classes you're taking... I told you how it would be."

"I'm all right," she said quickly. "Anyway, I need to do something while you and Harry are at Quidditch practically every night."

"You could come out and watch us." Hermione looked up in surprise and saw Ron's eyes crinkling. She looked down again quickly.

"Or you could try out for the team." He was openly grinning now.

"Oh well, too bad," said Hermione primly. "I'm taking those classes, so the team will just have to struggle along without me."

Ron laughed out loud. Then, abruptly, his face darkened.

"What?" said Hermione.

"The team's not doing too well right now," said Ron. He scowled. "Damn Fred and Angelina - they're buggering up everything."

"Ron!" She couldn't stop herself - the reprimand came out automatically.

"Well they are," he said, glowering. "Harry's going spare about it, too. The Slytherin match is a week from Saturday."

Hermione drew in her breath sharply. She knew it was foolish to care about their house standings, but she couldn't help herself. It was so important to the younger students, and...

"Oh, we just have to win!" she said. "We should beat them - we have the better team."

Ron half-smiled. "Nice to know you fancy us -" He broke off. " -- I mean, our chances. But..." He shrugged pessimistically.

Hermione put one hand out toward him. "If I can help in any way... Do you think I should try talking to Angelina?"

Ron shrugged. "Sure - it can't get any worse. No - wait - forget I said that!" He grinned again. "It would be great if you could. Thanks!"

Hermione smiled back at Ron, thinking how much she liked seeing him look happy like this. He changed moods so quickly, and every one of them showed on his face. Now, his grin had faded to a smile, and he was looking at her with a curious expression - kind of... soft?

Hermione felt warmth steal into her cheeks again, but she found herself unable - or unwilling - to look away. Ron was staring at her, and she wanted to stare right back. In the background, her mind was racing with a stream of burbling nonsense: Well, this is different. We've never done this before... This should be really embarrassing, but it's nice. Ron looks so... grown up...and focused... and serious.

Suddenly, Ron was looking very serious. He took a deep breath, paused and then spoke in a stumbling rush. "I wish we could spend more time together."

Hermione was unable to respond. She knew her cheeks were turning bright red, but she didn't turn away. Did he mean that the way it sounded, or had he just been missing their time together -- as friends?

"I know all the Hogsmeade weekends are right out, with these Apparating lessons, but there must be some way..." Ron's husky voice got suddenly higher and he seemed to run out of momentum. He was embarrassed. Did that mean...?

"Yes?" Hermione asked softly. When Ron didn't respond, she tried again. "Some way...?"

Ron was blushing now as well. Hermione held her breath. Was this... it? Would he...?

"Maybe you could find some free time in between all your revising, and we could..."

Ron's voice had gone almost inaudible. Hermione leaned forward to hear him. "We could...?" What, what?

POP.

Hermione whirled around as Remus suddenly emerged, not two feet away behind her. There was another 'POP,' and Harry appeared beside him.

"So," said Harry briskly, "are you two ready?"

*

Harry talked rapidly in the carriage on their way back to Hogwarts, filling them in on what Sirius had told him.

"A prophecy?" said Ron eagerly. "Who made it? D'you think it was Trelawney? You know - how you said Dumbledore said she had one other real one."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. Sirius did say that the Diviner didn't know what he or she had prophesied, and Trelawney didn't know that time when I was with her. She didn't remember anything about it."

"And that's why Dumbledore said hers was a 'real prophecy'?" said Hermione slowly, overcoming her distaste for the whole subject of prophecies. "Because you did defeat Voldemort, and you are a Potter?"

Harry shrugged again.

"And what did the centaurs say?" demanded Ron. "Can you remember the exact words, Harry?"

Harry frowned. "'Only the one chosen by the Order could succeed... but the Order would choose someone who could not succeed' - something like that."

Ron's face twisted in concentration. "Maybe that means that the Order would make two choices - the wrong person and then the right one. Who did they choose then?"

"They never even met," said Harry. "They haven't chosen anyone."

"But you're the last of the Potters now," said Ron. "Until you have a sprog."

Harry's brows twitched down. "I won't," he said shortly. "Not unless..."

Harry didn't continue, but Hermione finished the sentence in her own mind. Not unless Voldemort is destroyed. Of course Harry wouldn't want to risk having a family, after what had happened to him when he was a baby. Because...

"Harry, why did your parents have you then?" she asked abruptly. "Weren't they afraid that Voldemort would..."

Harry blushed bright red. "I think I was an accident," he said. Hermione suddenly became aware that Ron was glaring at her over Harry's head and she remembered what Snape had said. Oh.

She tried to recover her error. "Well, if you were the only one who could defeat Voldemort, it's a good thing you were born," she said firmly.

"Yeah," said Ron slowly, staring at Harry. "Especially if you're still the only one who can."

*

They reached the Gryffindor common room about an hour before dinner. Remembering her promise to Ron, Hermione looked for Angelina Johnson. She didn't see her, but her eye was caught by Ginny, rising in haste from the table where she sat with her three dormitory mates and heading up the stairs with a toss of her head.

Still angry, thought Hermione. Beside her, Harry was also watching Ginny. He turned and caught Hermione's eye.

"You could ask her that question now," Harry suggested. "About Malfoy's trip."

Hermione nodded. If Ginny was going to her room, she would be the only one there. And, really, anything about Voldemort's doings was more important than Quidditch troubles, no matter how badly she wanted Gryffindor to win the first game.

She climbed the spiral stair and knocked on the fourth-years' door.

"Come in," said Ginny. "Oh, hi, Hermione."

Hermione lingered in the doorway, looking at Ginny. She was seated cross-legged on her bed, her half-grown kitten purring in her lap. Her face was stormy.

Hermione approached cautiously. "May I sit down?"

Ginny nodded, scooting over to make room. The black cat twitched his tail in irritation.

"He's sure growing," said Hermione. "Hello, Raffles." She scratched him under his chin. Ginny's face softened and she smiled.

"Yes, he eats like a manticore," she said fondly. "I think he's going to be as big as Crookshanks."

Hermione doubted it. Crookshanks was enormous. But she didn't say anything to contradict Ginny. It seemed unlike Ginny to hold a grudge against Ron and Harry for as long as this - it had been a full week. Usually she got over things as quickly as Ron did. Of course, on a few occasions, he had...

She pulled her thoughts back to the current situation. "So, you're pretty miffed at Ron and Harry."

Ginny snorted. "'Miffed' is not the word. Try 'livid'."

"Would that stop you from...." Hermione hesitated. "There's something we need to know that might help Harry. It's about Draco Malfoy."

Ginny didn't say anything, but she looked mildly interested. Hermione carried on.

"Harry thinks Malfoy might have told Ian where he went on his summer holiday," she said. "Somewhere on a boat. Has Ian mentioned anything about that?"

Ginny shook her head.

"Well, do you think you could... ask him?" said Hermione. "It's nothing bad for Ian, it's just... gossip, sort of.* If you could lead the conversation around to holidays, and yachts, he might..."

"That's not going to happen," said Ginny coldly. "Ian and I are over."

"Over?" said Hermione, surprised. "You broke off with him?"

"No," said Ginny, grinding her teeth. "He broke off with me." She thrust her jaw out, looking for a moment amazingly like her brother.

Hermione was stunned. "But... why? Just because you left him for a moment in the Three Broomsticks?" Hermione swelled indignantly. "Well! Ginny, if that's the sort of boy he is, I don't think -"

"Oh, you don't know anything about it," said Ginny furiously. "You don't..." She stood up with a suddenness that made Raffles stalk off and lick his fur irritably, and paced across the floor.

"Everyone in Slytherin was making fun of Ian because of me," she said fiercely. "They constantly told him that I was 'Potter's lap dog' and 'faithful Fido' and all sorts of things like that. But he never listened. He just... treated me like a normal girl that he was interested in."

Ginny whirled and glared at Hermione. "You have no idea how polite and... and decent he was. He courted me. He did everything right. And then, the very first time I went out with him, when he had finally convinced all his friends that they were wrong about me and he was right in the middle of introducing me to them, he had to go and do that!"

"Who?" asked Hermione. "What?"

"HARRY!" spat Ginny. "He had to go and make it look like I was still his faithful lapdog - like I couldn't say no to him when he called me. There was nothing he could have done that would have humiliated Ian more than that - and in front of his whole house. Ian stuck his neck out for me and I made him a laughingstock. I don't blame him for deciding I'm not worth the bother."

"But Ginny," said Hermione, "if Ian really likes you, he shouldn't let one mistake... I mean, Harry said it was important, and we're all used to... Harry usually tells the truth about things like that. You couldn't know..."

Ginny made an impatient gesture and sank back down against the edge of the bed. "You don't understand, Hermione. Ian has perfect manners, and mine are awful. I just wasn't brought up the way he was - I was always being careful not to be... low-class. And then that! It's no wonder he decided I'm not his sort."

Hermione's brows twitched. "Well, Ginny, did you ever think that he's not your sort? If he's as posh as all that... And it was awfully strange watching you shake hands with Draco Malfoy. When his father--"

Ginny nodded. "Yes, I know. Don't think I didn't think about that. Honestly, even saying hello to Malfoy made my skin crawl. Ian said he isn't such a bad chap once you get to know him, but..." She sighed. "But - oh, it was lovely, too! Ian was so nice, and he liked me. He thought I was pretty, and he listened when I talked, and tried to please me."

"Yes," said Hermione hesitantly. "Viktor was like that. He has wonderful manners. But..." She sighed in her turn, and Ginny nodded understandingly. "So, how does Ian treat you now? Can you still talk to him?"

"We have two classes together," said Ginny, "and he's polite. He nods to me when I pass. But I don't see myself asking him any questions about Malfoy. He would think it was odd."

"All right. I understand." Hermione couldn't press Ginny any further. But if she did happen to make up with Ian, then - not that she wanted Ginny with Ian, necessarily, but it would be useful if -

"Why do you want to know where Malfoy went for his holidays?" asked Ginny. "Is this something to do with your house?"

"My house? Oh - no. We were just wondering what Lucius Malfoy was up to."

"Do you know something?" Ginny asked. She settled back on the bed again, looking very interested.

Hermione considered her words carefully.

"Harry overheard Malfoy talking about a holiday on a boat, and we wondered where they went, and if it was for Voldemort."

Ginny winced. "Hermione, do you have to say his name?"

"I - oh..." If it had been anyone else, Hermione would have defended the necessity of calling Voldemort by his right name. But somehow it was different with Ginny. "Sorry."

"So..." Ginny asked, "you were gone all afternoon. Did you see Hagrid?"

"No. We haven't seen him since the first night." Hermione frowned, vowing to see Hagrid the next day if they had to wait outside of his cabin all day. "Have you?"

"I haven't seen him," said Ginny. "But I talked to Annie about it, and she's optimistic. Listen, maybe we could go tomorrow, together. I really want to see Hagrid."

"Sure," Hermione said brightly, "why don't you come with us? We'll probably -"

Ginny stiffened. "You go ahead. I'll be fine."

"Ginny, I didn't mean -"

"Don't worry about it."

*

Harry and Ron were hard at work on Divination when Hermione returned to the Common Room. Both boys looked up.

"Will she ask him?" said Harry.

"What? Oh, no," Hermione said. "She -"

"Is Ginny still cheesed off about that thing in Hogsmeade?" Ron asked indignantly. "She needs to get over herself."

"It's not that! She -" Hermione broke off.

She wasn't sure whether she should tell Ron and Harry anything about Ginny's private life... and she wasn't sure she wanted to. They were looking at her expectantly.

"Look, she's just not going to be able to ask him, all right?" Both Harry and Ron opened their mouths to argue, and Hermione felt her annoyance rising.

"She has a right to be mad," she said. "The two of you embarrassed her in front of -"

"A bunch of Slytherins!" Ron put in.

"Not just Slytherins," Hermione retorted. "Everyone in the Three Broomsticks was watching. And anyway, Slytherins count too."

Ron gaped at her, but Hermione's attention was distracted by a strange owl coming into the Common Room.

It looked like... yes, it was one of the owls her parents used to send letters from the Azores. It must be their answer!

Hermione hurried to the owl, ignoring Ron's sputters. Oh, they just had to have agreed. She took the parchment eagerly and unrolled it.

"Yes!"

* * *

*This is the point where I was I writing this chapter when Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix came out.

Next Chapter: Of Lions and Snakes

In which Harry faces his first test as Quidditch captain, and Hermione makes a persuasive case.