- Rating:
- PG-13
- House:
- Schnoogle
- Characters:
- Hermione Granger Ron Weasley
- Genres:
- Romance Action
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
- Stats:
-
Published: 06/06/2004Updated: 01/06/2005Words: 243,073Chapters: 26Hits: 84,040
Hermione Granger and the Beginning of the End
Ann Margaret
- Story Summary:
- This is the story of the beginning of the trio's last months at Hogwarts, the beginning of the end of their childhood and the end of the war. But will good prevail? Will they survive? And why the hell did Ron Weasley throw away his relationship with Hermione? Once again, a lot more action, darker, but perhaps this time we shall have a happy ending...or not...
Chapter 02
- Chapter Summary:
- Just an ordinary day for Head Girl Hermione Granger...run-ins with irritable Malfoy, troubled Harry, annoying Daphne, sympathetic Hagrid, and sweet, wonderful Ron
- Posted:
- 06/17/2004
- Hits:
- 3,118
Over the years, Hermione Granger had mastered the fine art of reading Harry Potter's carefully set facial expressions. Harry had learned at a young age how to make sure no one would know what he was thinking or feeling by always keeping his face decidedly set in a blank, unrevealing manner. It was one of the reasons why he played Quidditch and dueled so well, it was why no one could tell how upset he got when he heard about Death Eater attacks on anyone, whether he knew them or not, and it was the deciding factor of why everyone had thought he had finally grown up and gotten a hold of his temper. Harry had perfected these facial expressions after Christmas of sixth-year with Ron's disappearance, so by the time seventh year had approached, he had become quite adept at hiding how he felt from almost everyone.
No matter how hard he tried, Harry could never hide what he was feeling from Hermione. He reckoned it was due to her female intuition, but Hermione knew it was more logical than that. She had just begun to read his face like she read any textbook: with the utmost scrutiny and attention to detail. Her quick eye had observed that his left cheek muscle would twitch if he was angry, his lips would tug upwards if he was hiding a smile, and his jaw would tense if he was upset. No one could truly hide emotions from anyone, especially from someone who knew him as well as Hermione Granger.
There were others who could read Harry just as well as Hermione, but she was the only one who had the courage to approach Harry about it. Ron never liked to talk to Harry about feelings and unmanly topics such as that, so he would just talk to Hermione about it instead, asking her to talk to Harry for him. Even seven years later, Ron still adopted the policy of let-Harry-make-his-own-decisions-and-support-whatever-he-decides-to-do, and this motto also applied to the discussing feelings area. And even someone as dynamic and feisty as Ginny Weasley didn't even dare approach the Boy-Who-Lived about this. Well, she would if it was absolutely necessary, and then she came through brilliantly, often doing a better job than Hermione ever could. For some reason, Ginny understood Harry on a deeper level than Hermione ever could, but despite Ginny's insistence that she was over Harry, she was still rather tentative about having heart-to-hearts with him.
So when Hermione glanced over at Harry on the first N.E.W.T. DADA class after the Christmas holidays and saw his clenched jaw, she knew in an instant what she was in for tonight. Getting to Harry to come out with his emotions was like pulling teeth, as her father would say. It wasn't going to be easy, and for some reason, Hermione's stomach twisted with dread more than usual at the thought of approaching Harry tonight. She never really liked forcing him to talk to her; she would much rather he open up to her of his own free will. But it had to be done.
In fact, Hermione noted as she stole another look at her best friend, he looks a bit worse than usual. It was much more obvious that something was eating away at him. His jaw was unusually tight, and his eyes were riveted to the edge of his desk, not even putting up the charade of paying attention to Professor Snape's lecture. Hermione also glanced over at Snape to make sure he didn't notice that she was no longer paying any attention to him; if someone had told her that Professor Snape would finally get the position he had been vying for ever since becoming a professor at Hogwarts in her seventh year, she would have probably laughed out loud. Snape was an extremely competent Potions master, and Snape's double-agent role for the Order would be shattered in an second if he became DADA professor. However, Snape's cover was blown to smithereens after Christmas Eve of sixth-year, so Dumbledore saw no other reason why to keep Snape from the post he desired and rightly deserved. Hermione had to admit that Snape was a great professor; not as good as Lupin, who was still her all-time favorite, but better than most professors she had in this field.
Ron and Harry hadn't been too happy about the change in Snape's post, Ron especially. Harry had managed to receive an O in his Potions O.W.L. and had to put up with Snape in sixth year, but Ron had been freed of the Snape curse. Ron had gotten an A on his Potions O.W.L. so he had gone through an entire year without the horror of a Snape lesson, and had greatly enjoyed lording over that fact to her and Harry. But now, once again, all three of them were stuck with the greasy-haired professor who hadn't changed his ways a bit. This was why Hermione cautiously elbowed Harry out of his stupor and tilted her head warningly towards the front of the room. Harry blinked, waking himself from his daze, and gave Hermione a quick glare before focusing again on Snape.
Yes, something's definitely wrong, Hermione said to herself, biting her lip. Harry had stopped snapping after they had come to that understanding in sixth-year, and had tread carefully around her ever since. Their friendship at that point had almost been shattered beyond repair, and both of them never wanted to be in that place again. Hermione knew that hers and Harry's friendship was strong enough to last one argument, but she was still antsy about it. Now she knew why Ron was probably so hesitant to talk to Harry about certain issues; he never wanted to risk getting into a row with Harry like he had in fourth-year.
Ron indeed never wanted to risk fighting with Harry, but that didn't stop him from making sure his concerns were somehow voiced. He was now nudging her under the desk with his foot. For a brief moment, she thought he was trying to play footsy with her or something but when she had looked over at him she realized at once what he wanted. He had noticed Harry too.
"I know," she mouthed to him, using her hair to shield her face from Harry and Snape. Ron shot a quick glance over at Harry to make sure he wasn't watching them before meeting Hermione's eyes again. Unlike Harry's, Ron's blue eyes always radiated what he was feeling at the exact moment, and right now, he was very concerned for his best friend. And Hermione could never stand it when Ron was upset about something; it was the reason why she had wrote an Astronomy essay for him in fifth-year.
Hermione sighed. Now she knew what she had to do. And she wasn't looking forward to it at all.
**
"So was he like this when he got up this morning?" Hermione asked Ron as she leaned against the front table in the prefect meeting room.
Ron frowned as he thought back. "I think so," he said slowly, brow furrowed in concentration. "He didn't talk much during the Quidditch strategy meeting."
"And he hardly said a word during breakfast and lunch," Hermione added. "That's never a good sign."
"What do you think it is?" Ron asked worriedly.
Hermione shrugged. "It could be anything. Maybe he got an owl that upset him, or he had another one of his dreams."
"He was tossing and turning again last night," Ron recalled.
Hermione bit her lip sheepishly. "Did you notice that when I woke you up again?"
"Well--yeah," Ron admitted, his ears starting to glow with its telltale maroon hue. "But it's fine, Hermione, really."
"I still feel awful," Hermione apologized.
"Don't," Ron said firmly. "Our dormitory isn't the quietest of places with Harry's bad dreams, Neville's snores, and now both Dean and Seamus mumble in the sleep constantly," Ron rolled his eyes in exaggerated annoyance. "Trust me--it's nice to focus on you instead of listening to that din,"
Hermione felt herself starting to blush so she quickly steered the conversation back on track. "Did he say anything in his sleep?" Hermione pressed.
"Nothing that I could make out," Ron relayed, "not with Dean and Seamus blabbering away too,"
Hermione tucked some hair behind her ear as she nodded in greeting to some of the prefects who were just arriving. "Well, we can't talk about this now," Hermione said in a low tone of voice, indicating the other people in the room with a slight tilt of her head.
"Right," Ron nodded and flashed her a smile before heading to his seat. Of course he had to use the smile that made her go weak in the knees and the blush Hermione had been trying to hide flared up once again so she was forced to duck her head and hastily take her seat behind the front table. Forcing her mind back to business and not on Ron's smile, she glanced at her watch and frowned. They were supposed to start the meeting five minutes ago.
The entire room jumped as Draco Malfoy stalked into the room in an obvious rage. "All right, all right, shut up!" he snapped as he crossed to take his place at the front of the room with Hermione. "Let's get this meeting started!"
"You're late," she chided under her breath as he approached
Malfoy slammed the books he was carrying onto the desk and leaned towards her threateningly. "And you're a fucking Mudblood," he hissed so only she could hear. He back away and sneered down at her. "Don't see me complaining though, do you?"
Hermione didn't even give Malfoy the satisfaction of seeing the anger on her face. She had been looking at the desk in front of her when her jaw had dropped, but her eyes went straight to Ron. Sure enough, he had tensed up the moment Malfoy had gotten two inches closer to her than Ron liked. She was vividly remembered one time at the beginning of seventh-year when Ron had tackled Malfoy for just looking at Hermione the wrong way. And right now, Malfoy was looking at, speaking to, and standing near Hermione in a very, very wrong way.
Don't, she fired warningly to Ron in her mind as she got to her feet and yanked out a Quick-Quote Quill so they could record the meeting. "This meeting will come to order," she said in a steady tone. She finally forced herself to look at Malfoy. "Draco," she stated simply, gesturing towards the other prefects to indicate that he had the floor.
She sat back down and fought back a grin as Ron disrespectfully leaned back in his chair, plopped his feet up on the desk, clasped his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes. He did this at every prefect meeting; he refused to pay attention whenever Malfoy spoke, but always straightened up whenever anyone else had the floor. Malfoy had at first retaliated by sending some jinxes to knock over Ron's chair but Hermione had always managed to send a Protection shield in time to prevent Ron from falling. But Ron wasn't the only one not paying attention, Hermione noticed curiously. Ginny Weasley was concentrating on something in her lap that she was reading with the utmost scrutiny. I wonder what that's about, Hermione thought.
"Weasels!" Malfoy broke off in mid-sentence from his explanation of the upcoming change in curfew times. "As much as I would love for the Gryffindors to lose points for being out after hours, I suggest that you pay attention!" When the two Weasleys didn't respond instantaneously, Malfoy slammed his fists down onto the table and made everyone in the room flinch at the impact.
Ginny squeaked and shoved whatever she had been reading on into her bag with flaming red cheeks, which rather surprised Hermione. Ginny never let Malfoy get to her like that. Ron, on the other hand, slowly opened one eye, saw Malfoy fuming, and promptly shut it again. The prefects from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff all tittered with laughter at Ron's defiance. A smile spread across Ron's face as he continued to keep his eyes closed and balance on two chair legs. Malfoy's hand jerked towards his wand, his cheekbones blazing bright pink, but Hermione as always was two steps ahead of him. She swiftly rose to her feet and shoved Malfoy's hand away. Malfoy jerked his wrist away as if she had thrown scalding hot potion on him and scowled furiously.
"Now, as we were saying," Hermione took over. Ron promptly opened his eyes, swung his legs off the desk, and sat up straight to pay the utmost attention to Hermione, producing another laugh. Hermione had to fight back a giggle of her own as she continued, "A new curfew for the weekdays has been reinstated for 8:30 in response to a certain party that a certain house," she shot a glare at Malfoy, "decided to host despite the fact it broke quite a number of school rules. The curfew takes place immediately and will be enforced for an indefinite period of time," Everyone groaned and Hermione waved her hand to get them to settle down. "That's all we have for you. Is there any questions or concerns you wish to open up to the floor?" Everyone was too busy snickering at a still extremely hacked off Malfoy. "Right. Meeting adjourned."
Hermione quickly gathered up her papers and books and stuffed them back into her school bag, ignoring the din of post-meeting chatter. As she swung the bag over her shoulder, Ron caught her eye and pointed to his watch and then to her books. To a normal person, those gestures would be meaningless and rather odd but Hermione knew what Ron wanted her to do. A quick glance at her watch told her that it was a bit after 4:00 which meant that since it was too early for dinner, Harry would therefore be in the library studying before his evening Quidditch practice. Ron obviously thought this would be a perfect opportunity to talk to Harry. She made a slight face at him to express her disapproval that he was refusing to come but Ron only returned it. Harry was bound to open up to one person at a time and besides, Hermione had the sinking feeling that Ron had a previous engagement to get to and although he'd drop it in an instant if it was for Harry, Hermione didn't really want to ask him to do that. So she simply rolled her eyes at him but nodded to let him know she was on her way. Ron flashed her a smile and a thumbs-up before making his exit.
Hermione found herself watching Ron go until Malfoy's cold drawl reverberated sinisterly in her ear. "Your boyfriend better watch himself, Granger,"
"Ron is not my boyfriend," Hermione instantly said in a flat voice as she made her way around the front table.
"Glad to hear it," Malfoy said with such an unusual inflection in his voice that Hermione instinctively halted. She thought about turning around and demanding what he meant by that but she decided against it. He was probably trying to bait her so he could make some sort of crack about Ron's family or her being a Muggle-born. Hermione simply gritted her teeth in annoyance and strode out of the meeting room without a second glance to the Slytherin.
She found Harry seated at the back of the library at the farthest table from the door, almost out of sight. He was hunched over some textbook, reading intently. Hermione had never seen Harry focus that much on a book for homework, so she had a hunch that this trip to the library had something to do with whatever was eating at him at the moment.
Hermione walked over to his table and pretended to just spot her best friend. "Harry," she said with feigned surprise.
Harry jerked up from his book and shoved his glasses up his nose. "Oh, hey, Hermione."
She gestured to the empty chair across from him. "Is this seat taken?"
Harry just shook his head and buried himself in his book again, cradling his arm around it to block Hermione's view which of course instantly attracted her attention to it.
"What are you reading?" she inquired casually.
"Just some stuff for Defense." Harry didn't even look up from the text.
Hermione took a deep breath. Please don't blow up at me, Harry. "Harry, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," Harry lied, still not looking at her.
"Harry," she said quietly. "Please." He finally looked up, and sitting this close to him, Hermione was startled to notice that he had dark circles under his eyes. His eyes were also a little bloodshot. "Harry, are you sleeping well?" she pressed. Hermione obviously had hit the nail on the head because Harry jolted as if he had been hit with an Impediment curse. "You look a bit peaky," she added.
Harry slammed the book shut and rested his elbows atop the cover so he could wearily rub his tired eyes. Hermione knew he needed a minute before speaking so she waited patiently while cricking her neck ever so slightly so she could see what he was looking at. To her surprise, it was in fact his DADA textbook; he really was studying.
"It's nothing really," Harry finally lowered his hands from his face and leaned closer to Hermione so they wouldn't be overheard. His fingers roved absently over the leather binding of the book. "It's just this feeling I've been having, that's all,"
"What sort of feeling?" Hermione inquired.
"I dunno," Harry sighed, reflecting for another long moment before looking at Hermione once again. "Don't you think it's a bit funny that absolutely nothing out of the ordinary has happened here?"
"Yes," Hermione conceded. "But I rather hoped to just enjoy it while it lasted."
"But we can't," Harry said fervently. "We can't just sit here and wait; we have to do something..."
"Like what?" Hermione asked sharply, praying that Harry wasn't going to get any bright ideas like he had in sixth-year when he thought willingly going with Death Eaters would solve everyone's problems. She had thought he would have more sense than that, but she couldn't be so sure.
"Not that," Harry reassured her impatiently while rolling his eyes. Hermione sagged slightly with relief and raised her eyebrows expectantly, awaiting a further explanation. He hesitated for a moment before leaning even closer to her. "There was another Muggle attack today,"
Hermione's heart clenched. "There wasn't anything in the Prophet," she argued weakly.
"The Ministry decided to stop publishing every attack," Harry explained. "Decided that it was only causing a panic."
Hermione let out a tut of disapproval. "Ignorance never helped anyone." Harry just shrugged morosely. "How many?" she asked quietly.
"Five," Harry told her. "Some kids who were out late last night were attacked while walking home," Harry's fingers tightened around the binding of his book. "The oldest one was thirteen."
Thirteen. Hermione had to look away for a moment. She remembered being thirteen all too clearly--it had been her second-year at Hogwarts. She had her first crush when she was thirteen, sent her first Valentine, brewed an illegal potion, broke into a teacher's office, turned herself into a cat, gotten Petrified, gone to France, got her first pet, seen a dementor, and used a Time-Turner all when she was thirteen. It was a glorious age to be and it was much, much too young to die. The thought made her more than slightly nauseous and she swallowed hard. "They're getting worse," she commented grimly.
"Yeah," Harry said thickly. "It makes me think something really bad is coming."
"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked anxiously.
"Because Muggle attacks are usually done by bored Death Eaters, right?" Harry explained. "They have too much to drink and attack defenseless Muggles." Hermione nodded and Harry looked intently at her. "So why are they bored?"
"You tell me," Hermione spoke in a very even voice. Harry's mind was still focused on his thoughts so his answers were rather quick and honest; he spoke his thoughts as soon as they came into his mind. It wasn't often that Harry was this candid and Hermione didn't want to break the spell.
"Because they aren't doing anything for Voldemort," Harry frowned as he shifted slightly in discomfort, "and we all know that Voldemort has to have a plan so they must be waiting for something to happen before they can make any more moves." His fingers inadvertently clenched the spine of the book. "He's up to something; I can feel it."
Hermione's eyes widened. "What do you mean by feel it?"
"My Occulmency lessons have been going really well," Harry continued. "Snape reckons I'll be able to not only block Voldemort but to hear him like he was able to hear me," Harry broke off uncomfortably and for once the emotion he was undergoing was written plainly all over his face.
"What is it?" Hermione asked quietly.
Harry finally was able to get the words out. "But I can still feel his thoughts every once in a while," he admitted. "Not as bad as it was before but just flashes whenever I'm not focusing, like right before I'm going to sleep." Harry set his jaw and clenched his fists. "And he's up to something."
"Can you tell what precisely?"
"No," Harry's frustration was evident just from his utterance of a single word. Hermione jumped slightly at his intensity but Harry didn't notice. "I think I have it sometimes--it's like it's there in my mind and I just need to think the right things or say the right words or something and then I'll know but I just don't." Harry gripped the sides of his head as if he was trying to call Voldemort with his mind once again. "All I know," he said very slowly, brow furrowed with concentration, "is that it's coming and it's close,"
She blinked in puzzlement by Harry's choice of words. "What do you mean by close?"
Harry's frown deepened. "It's going to happen here."
Hermione inhaled sharply and Harry did too as if he realized for the first time what he had been thinking. "Here?" Hermione repeated in disbelief, desperately not wanting it to be true but knowing from the horror in Harry's eyes that it had to be. "He's going to come here?" Harry stared down at the table mutely as he tried to process what he had just said. "But he can't, Harry," Hermione tried. "He wouldn't take on Dumbledore at Hogwarts with all the wards and protection spells and everything!"
"I know, I know," Harry conceded as he leaned back in his chair, sweat beading his upper lip. "Maybe I'm wrong," he added while taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.
"Were you just trying to find him now?" Hermione asked shrewdly. Harry didn't respond and only shoved his glasses back on his face. She knew she couldn't scold him for it but she had to say something. "Harry, you have to be careful; you don't want to strain yourself."
"I'm fine," Harry said for probably the two billionth time in his life and for the one billionth and nine hundredth time, he was lying.
"You don't look well," She tried to sound as sympathetic as possible; it wasn't as though she wasn't completely understanding to Harry's plight but she was very worried and whenever she was worried, she often became a bit sharp with the people she loved out of her irritation that they were hurting themselves. "And you know the risks of trying too hard." Continuous practice of Occulmency could result in health issues and Harry's particular skills could cause Voldemort to be able to see into Harry's mind again. For these reasons, Harry was only supposed to be practicing Occulmency in Snape, Dumbledore, or Lupin's presence. But Hermione had a feeling that this wasn't the only time Harry hadn't broken this rule; in fact, she was willing to bet her Hogwarts: A History that Harry was trying at least once everyday to make contact with Voldemort.
"Yeah, I do," Harry's voice was starting to get a bit sharp, indicating that Hermione was pushing it too far. She gave him a terse smile and raised her hands in defeat to show that she was dropping the subject. But Harry didn't drop the subject straight away. "I know you may not believe me," Harry's voice was deadly serious. "But you just have to trust me on this."
Hermione looked critically into Harry's earnest green eyes and remained silent as she tried to sort out what she was feeling. She trusted Harry implicitly, of course, but she had trusted him on several occasions and he had been wrong about these sorts of things. But at the same time, this was different. They were older and Harry had never been so sure of himself and his talents as he was now. She could no longer treat him like the clueless boy she had met on the train seven years ago; he was a man now and as much as the thought of Harry so grown-up and self-aware startled her and made her wish for their somewhat carefree first-year days, she was so immensely proud of the man that Harry had become despite all the Dursleys, Malfoys, and Voldemorts in his life that she had to let him do this. And as much as she hated the idea, she was going to have to let him do this alone. She could help him with the research and planning portion of the latest adventure he would undoubtedly have to take. She could pour her heart out to him and suggest to him what she thought was the correct course to take, but she had to let him take whatever course he chose. And if that course was to break the rules by practicing Occulmency outside of class, so be it.
"Of course I trust you, Harry," she finally said quietly. "I just worry about you too."
The irritated look on Harry's face vanished at her evident concern. "I'm fine," he said, bringing the total count up to two billion and one. But Hermione wasn't very reassured considering that he had now told this lie one billion and nine hundred and one times.
**
"Ah, 'ello, Hermione, good to see yeh," Hagrid exclaimed happily as he opened the door and lumbered aside. He grinned widely at her and Hermione as always flinched when she saw the empty space in Hagrid's mouth where the centaurs had knocked out his teeth. Due to her upbringing, painful medical issues concerning teeth had always struck a particular chord with her. "Cum on in,"
"Thanks, Hagrid," Hermione smiled as she entered the cozy hut. Fang continued to bark loudly until she crouched down and patted him in welcome before straightening up. She had taken to visiting Hagrid whenever she was going through times of extreme trouble, like in third-year when she was overloaded with too many classes or in sixth-year after she and Ron broke up although she hadn't told Hagrid precisely why Ron was upsetting her so much. Even though she was totally over the whole Ron thing, she still found it quite comforting to come down at least once a week to visit the friendly half-giant. She often visited along with Harry and Ron, but she also greatly enjoyed seeing Hagrid alone which is why she often came by while Ron and Harry were at Quidditch practice. She wished that today was purely a social visit, but unfortunately it wasn't. "Thank you so much for agreeing to write this recommendation for me, Hagrid."
"Pleasure is all mine, Hermione," Hagrid replied. "Bu' are yeh sure they'd wan' a lette' from me?"
"Of course they will," Hermione took a seat at the large table and took off her heavy cloak, gloves, and scarf. "You are my friend for one thing--you're the only teacher who can adequately depict my personality," Hermione gave him a proud, reassuring smile. "Besides, remember, you are the Care of Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts, the best wizarding school in all of Europe--of course they will take your thoughts on me under serious consideration."
"Bu' I ain't a--I mean I don' write good at all," Hagrid looked slightly embarrassed as he held out the roll of parchment he had messily scrawled out Hermione's recommendation on.
"It's quite all right, Hagrid," Hermione told him. "I was going to ask Professor McGonagall to edit it if that's all right with you--she's writing my other letter."
"Oh, I reckon thas' all righ'," Hagrid looked very relieved that his poor grammar wouldn't be a hindrance to Hermione's job search. He started to make a pot of tea out of pure habit--he and Hermione always had tea when she came to visit. "I though' yeh were goin' to work at the newspaper?"
"Yes, of course," Hermione explained. "I am very interested in working at the Prophet but I want to have as many options as possible."
"Thas' sounds smart," Hagrid agreed with a nod of his shaggy head. "Where are yeh applyin'?"
Hermione laughed quietly. "I think it may be easier to say where I'm not. Thank you," she added as Hagrid handed her a steaming mug of tea. "I've been filling out applications left and right--I feel awful for Rowena. She's been taking all of my applications all over the world and when she finally finished, I'll have to send her out again straight away so they can receive my letters of recommendation--I would use a different owl, but Rowena always gets so huffy when I don't use her,"
"All 'round the world, eh?" Hagrid picked up astutely. "Yeh wanna leave England?" Hagrid couldn't mask the surprise in his voice as he settled himself down in the chair across from her.
Hermione shrugged one shoulder somewhat awkwardly. She didn't like bringing up the idea she had been toying with of leaving home; she actually hadn't told anyone and hadn't planned on bringing it up. It had just accidentally slipped out. "Maybe--it depends if I get a good enough offer."
"Yeh'd really wanna leave everyone?" Hagrid sounded quite wounded at the thought. "Whadda 'bout yeh're family?"
"Oh, we really don't get along very well anymore," Hermione revealed. "They aren't that enamored with the magical world so needless to say, they aren't too thrilled that I'm at Hogwarts,"
Hagrid seemed to sense that this was not a topic of conversation that Hermione wanted to pursue. "Well, whadda 'bout Harry? And..." Hagrid stopped himself from stating the obvious person that Hermione shouldn't be leaving behind.
Hermione blew carefully into her tea before answering. "I think he's a good reason to leave," she said softly and took a long sip of tea. Ron was the primary reason she was sending quite a few applications over to France, Bulgaria, and America. There were several good opportunities over there and if she was going to stay true to her plan and forget about him if nothing changed by the end of the year, Hermione knew that the only way to accomplish that goal was to leave the country. It was a rather drastic decision, but it was the only feasible solution to the predicament.
"Yeah, thas' true enough," Hagrid reluctantly agreed, knowing exactly who she was referring to. "Nuttin' changed with 'im?" he asked tentatively.
"No, everything's the same," Hermione said briskly. "As it should be." She rose from the table to take her empty mug over to the sink.
"Hermione," Hagrid said quietly. Hermione stopped at the sink, her back to Hagrid, turning the mug over and over in her hands. "Yeh luv 'im."
It wasn't a question or an accusation--it was a basic, truthful, clearly stated fact and Hermione Granger never denied the facts. "Of course I do," she admitted. She dropped the mug down with a loud bang before turning back to Hagrid. "But he doesn't love me and there's nothing I can do about it."
"Now, cum on now," Hagrid said with a smile. "Thas' not the Hermione I jus' wrote abou'," He indicated the letter of recommendation still resting on the tabletop. "The Hermione I know wud be fightin' for 'im."
She shook her head vigorously. "No. I can't."
"Hermione..."
"No." She knew that Hagrid was just trying to help her; he had been one of the first people who had recognized her more-than-just-friendly feelings towards Ron and had always urged her to act upon them. But Hagrid didn't know the whole story; she and Ron had kept their brief relationship hidden so of course only a few select people knew about the break-up. Everyone always knew that Ron fancied Hermione and she fancied him back and had predicted that they would end up together but they didn't know that it actually happened. Ginny had told Hermione that the twins had received a flood of bets on when Ron and Hermione would finally officially become a couple during Ron's first week back at Hogwarts; everyone had just assumed that the tragedy would bring them together. But then something had happened that made the two not talk to each other for two months so the rumors had died down for a bit until Ron and Hermione had become friends again, then they had resumed with renewed vigor. Only Harry, Ginny, Fred, George, and apparently Dean and Seamus knew the truth. Hermione guessed that Ginny had let it slip to Dean one night and Dean had therefore told Seamus--she actually was unclear how that lot had found out but it didn't matter; Ginny had made it very clear that if either of them let it slip that Ron and Hermione had secretly been seeing each other, she would give them a demonstration on just how effective her Bag-Bogey Curse really was.
Now she wasn't sure just how much the school knew about what had really happened between her and Ron. For all she knew, the entire school was aware of their relationship. The sly innuendos certainly hadn't abated after their breakup--Hermione had to constantly cope with people's remarks about when was she finally going to get with her best friend or how "prefect duties" were going or something utterly lewd. It was only when Ron had gotten himself his little girlfriend that the remarks had stopped. Well, most of the remarks had stopped--the Slytherins were as cruel as ever, but honestly, what could expect from that lot?
"I couldn't fight for him if I wanted to," Hermione elaborated after a moment of reflection. "Ron has a girlfriend now and he seems very happy with her and she's a very nice girl so that's that,"
"Yeah, Daphne is a nice lass," Hagrid stated considerately. "Sweet girl, she is. I don' think they ain't really that serious, though."
"Why do you say that?" Hermione demanded.
"Coz I see her go around with some bloke from Ravenclaw," Hagrid answered. "I don' think they're exclusive or nothin',"
"Oh," Hermione said, wondering if it was obvious that blessed, soothing relief was coursing through her veins. "I suppose that's the sort of girl Ron wants, isn't it?" Hermione continued. "Sweet, shy, very pretty--not too blessed in the brains department but other than that, she's perfectly nice and exactly Ron's type." She gave Hagrid a sideways look. "Right?"
"Nah," he said instantly. "Ron needs a girl with a bit more spunk."
"You think?" Hermione said hopefully.
"'A course," Hagrid stressed earnestly. "Ron's too emotional of a lad to settle with a girl like Daphne--he's gonna need someone who'll keep 'im on his toes but keep 'im in line too 'cause we all know that Ron can be a bit of a hothead." Hagrid laughed his trademark deep, throaty chuckle that tugged at the corners of Hermione's mouth. Hagrid wagged his finger teasingly at her. "Ah, there's a smile, there is!"
Hermione let her smile break through and she rose from the table so she could drop a quick peck on Hagrid's hair-covered cheek. "Thanks for that." She turned on her heel and briskly started to pick up her cloak.
"Yeh have to go so soon?" Hagrid said with disappointment.
"I'm afraid so," Hermione apologized. "Loads of homework," She returned to Hagrid's side so she could pat his hand thankfully. "Thank you again for my recommendation; it really means a lot to me."
"I mean every word I wrote," Hagrid's hand came up to grip her shoulder, his palm spanning across her entire forearm. "And don' give up on 'im just yet, all righ?"
"I won't," Hermione promised. "Have a good night,"
"Yeh're gonna walk back by yehrself?" Hagrid asked as he lumbered over the door to let her out.
"No, Harry and Ron should be finishing up with Quidditch practice," Hermione lied smoothly. "I was going to pop over to the pitch and go back with them." This was another useful reason why she preferred to visit Hagrid during Quidditch practice--she could use it as an alibi. She had tried to tell Hagrid once that she was perfectly fine walking back to the castle in the dark alone--in fact, she would prefer it as she loved to walk alone and think things out, especially in the tranquility of early night. Hagrid had however felt that she needed an escort with times as they were so Hermione always had to resort to a little white lie in order to get her few moments of peace. Hagrid nodded with relief and wished her a good night and with a parting scratch to Fang's ears and smile to Hagrid, Hermione walked out into the cold January darkness.
The walk back to Hogwarts was as serene as she had hoped although she found herself staring off at the Quidditch pitch for several seconds, trying to discern which one was Ron but that peacefulness was abruptly shattered when after entering the castle, a voice called out her name.
She knew who it was immediately and her stomach tightened but she turned around with a polite smile. "Daphne, how are you?"
"Oh, I'm good," Daphne replied with her bubbly, high-pitched voice and a bright smile. God, this girl could just not stop smiling it seemed at times; did she have any problems? She played with a strand of annoyingly bone-straight strand of honey blonde hair, wrapping it around her finger as she continued to speak to Hermione. "Did you just come in from outside?"
No, I just adore walking around the castle with my winter cloak, gloves, and scarf on because the idea of getting overheated and passing out for some reason really appeals to me. Hermione swallowed the sarcasm she had developed over her years of friendship with Weasleys and simply nodded.
"Oh, good--were you watching Ron practice Quidditch?"
"No," Hermione answered immediately. "No, of course not, I was just visiting Hagrid, I had some things for him to do, no, why would I want to go watch Ron play Quidditch, that's just silly," The titter of nervous laughter escaped her throat against her will only augmented the awkwardness of the situation. Oh, brilliant, Hermione, very convincing; this cleverness of yours that you're exuding is exactly why you were named Head Girl.
Daphne looked a bit put out but her smile didn't fade. As usual. "Oh, well, I know you think it's silly, but I wanted to go watch Ron play and I was just wondering if you could tell me if they were still out there,"
"Yes, yes, of course, he's still out there," Hermione felt herself about to babble again so she bit down on the inside of her lip to prevent any damning words from escaping.
"I was going to go out sooner, but I was doing that essay for Snape--isn't he murder this year?" Daphne inquired conversationally as she whipped out some pink gloves and began to pull them on.
"He certainly is," Hermione agreed. "But then again, when is he not?"
Daphne giggled. "Too true, but of course, I'm sure you're not having any trouble; Ron always talks about how brilliant you are." Hermione fervently hoped that Daphne would think that the new flush to her cheek was a delayed reaction to the bitter cold of the outdoors. "But someone like me and him," Daphne trailed off as she finished putting on her gloves. Hermione didn't particularly appreciate Daphne suggesting that she and Ron were on the same level intellectually since she knew that Ron was loads smarter than everyone suspected but she managed to keep her mouth shut. "Well, no, Ronnie's pretty smart," Daphne quickly amended with a soft smile playing at her rosy pink lips. She gave an exaggerated shrug with another giggle. "Guess it's just me who's stupid then!" Hermione felt the urge to contradict the self-deprecating girl but Daphne had already switched subjects. "Oh, I never asked--how did your study date with Maurice go?"
"Just fine," Hermione answered. It always amazed her that Daphne always seemed to know whenever she had a date and she always made a point to ask about them whenever they met.
"Good," Daphne's smile brightened as she finally finished dressing properly for the night. "Well, I better be off before they finish up before I even get there--it was really nice talking to you, Hermione."
"Bye," Hermione returned as Daphne breezed out of the Entrance Hall. She let out a little sigh as she resumed her walk to the library. As hard as she tried, she just couldn't seem to muster up any sort of malice towards the girl who was dating her Ron. She did try her hardest--she really did try, she honestly did, but Daphne was just so nice that it was quite difficult not to like her. Yes, she was a bit lacking in the brains department and self-deprecating but it simply wasn't enough for Hermione to hate the girl. And things would just be so much simpler if she could despise Daphne but since she actually liked the girl, it made Hermione rather guilty that she was pining away for a boy who was dating such a sweet girl. It almost made her feel like the other woman even though there was nothing going on between her and Ron; the thoughts were still there and liking Daphne made Hermione feel quite guilty that she was having those sorts of thoughts about such a nice girl's boyfriend.
Stop it, Hermione told herself firmly as she mounted the stairs. You can't berate yourself for simply thinking, for goodness' sake. Besides, honestly, she needed to stop obsessing over her love life as if she were in a Jane Austen novel or something. If she had to select a popular novel to describe her life at the moment, Pride and Prejudice certainly would not be very high on her list; a more accurate selection would be A Tale of Two Cities since "it was the best of times, it was the worst of times," seemed to be an accurate assessment of her life. She was eighteen, in the prime of her life, in the last six months of school before heading off to begin a whole new life, find a career and hopefully a family--the best years of her life. But she was also in the midst of a war that constantly plagued all of her thoughts--the worst times of her life. Not to mention that the novel's plot was primarily fueled by the actions occurring in a bloody war instigated by people being afraid of other people who were different than them. Hermione shook her head, wondering why she was using novels as analogies when she should be finishing her homework for the evening.
And then there other very important things to focus on besides homework. A frown crossed her face as Harry's words from earlier that day returned to her mind.
"It makes me think something really bad is coming...He's up to something...All I know is that it's coming and it's close; it's going to happen here."
Not only had Hermione become skilled in reading Harry's facial expressions but she could also discern his real emotions by the tone of his voice. And there had been a raw, underlying fear in Harry's voice that made Hermione's stomach churn uncomfortably at the mere memory of it.
There were indeed some very important things to focus on.
Author notes: Thanks for reading and I hope you review!
And join the Yahoo group!
Chapter Three: A reappearance of one of my favorite aspects of Ron Weasley...drunk Ron!