Hermione Granger and the Half-Blood Prince

Ann Margaret

Story Summary:
Did you expect anything less from me? Sixth-year from Hermione's POV--primarily following her troubled relationship with Ron Weasley. Did anything happen over the summer? Had they started something when Lavender commenced sticking her tongue down Ron's throat? Did she really stop talking to him completely? What did she do during that time? Was there something going on with McLaggen? How did she and Ron reconcile? Why was she the one sent down to Snape instead of fighting alongside Ron and Ginny?...So many questions so come find some answers!

Chapter 11

Chapter Summary:
Hermione goes home for Christmas and gets a surprise or two...
Posted:
05/09/2006
Hits:
4,455


I rode the pain down

Got off and looked up

Looked into your eyes

The lost open windows

All around

My dark heart lit up the skies

Now that I've worn, I've worn out the world

I'm on my knees in fascination

Looking through the night

And the moon's never seen me before

But I'm reflecting light

"Reflecting Light" Sam Philips

**

One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not to sale to under-sixteens.

Hermione turned the box over and over in her hand, examining it all angles. She had just been searching her trunk for a lost book and stumbled upon the twins' birthday present to her. They really were much nicer than she gave them credit for. They certainly were loads nicer than their younger, stupider brother.

With a scowl, Hermione scooted off of her bed, still holding the box. It was really a lousy Christmas. She had hoped some distance from Hogwarts would help put her problems behind her, but that hadn't been the case. Her parents had eagerly been waiting for her to return, to of course see her, but also to finally find out what was going on as promised. They had sat her down, told her they were ready to listen, and waited expectantly.

And she couldn't do it.

Ron had just messed everything up. The last few months were so awful that Hermione couldn't bear to add anything else to her multitude of pressing problems. She couldn't hurt her parents like she had been hurt. Hermione knew she had to one day, but she couldn't do it today. Not on Christmas. Instead, Hermione had stupidly burst out into tears and blurted out that this was all about some stupid boy. Her mum had been quick to comfort her, wholeheartedly commiserating and telling Hermione stories about her experience in dating. It had helped loads, but then there was the look on her father's face. She had told him last summer that this wasn't about a boy. He didn't say anything to Hermione, probably so he wouldn't upset his wife so close to Christmas, but he knew the truth: his precious daughter was still lying to him.

Hermione fumbled with the box she was holding. Perhaps if she felt better in a few days, she could tell them. Then she wouldn't have to break another promise. Her father's face flashed in her head again. It had to be killing them to think that their only daughter, their pride and joy, was purposely lying to them. Hermione sat back on her bed, dropped the Weasley product in her lap and flopped tiredly backwards with one hand gripping her hair. What was wrong with her? She had spent most of the holidays moping around in her room, staring out the window with her chin in hand, and occasionally succumbing to the terrible urge to cry. Even today, on Christmas Day, the happiest day of the year, Hermione was up here wallowing in her grief instead of downstairs with her family. She had never been so out of sorts before and she had been through some trying times. Lately, she didn't even feel like herself anymore. Hermione Granger never would have flaunted a meaningless date in front of someone else in a cruel, calculated ploy to make someone jealous. Hermione Granger wouldn't fall apart just because one stupid boy chose someone else over her.

She knew that it wasn't just some stupid boy she was crying over, but Hermione stopped herself sharply from even thinking about that. It hurt much too much and it was Christmas. She deserved to be happy on Christmas. Abruptly, Hermione sat up again and popped the lid to the box in her lap. She knew that it was silly and the spell would only give her a superficial sort of happiness that would only last for a half an hour, but frankly, Hermione could care less. She just needed something right now to fill the void. It was Christmas; she deserved some form of happiness on Christmas. Inside the box was only a small scroll of parchment with a list of instructions, safety precautions, and a lengthy advertisement for other Weasley products. Hermione skimmed them quickly before getting her wand, flicking it expertly, and repeating the incantation printed on the parchment.

At first, Hermione thought nothing had happened. Everything looked exactly the same. She fought a sigh. Maybe the twins weren't as gifted as she had suspected. But then someone called her name. She turned to look over her shoulder, expecting to see the headboard of her bed, but there was only the Hogwarts lake, quixotically lit by the rapidly falling autumn twilight. Ron was standing under the beech tree by the lake, leaning rakishly against the trunk and watching her. Hermione let out a long breath with wide eyes and fluttering heart. He looked good. He looked really good. Well done, she praised the twins before walking towards Ron.

"You called?" Hermione said impishly with a smile.

"Yeah." Ron gestured for her to join him. "You've got to see this." Curiously, Hermione obediently walked to Ron's side and tried to see what he was referring to. Ron sensed her confusion and took her by the shoulders to guide her to the proper place. He positioned her so she was standing right in front of him; she was so close to him that when she exhaled, her back bumped lightly into Ron's chest. The top of her head just reached Ron's chin so it was easy for him to raise his arm over her shoulder and point directly in front of them. He was now even closer to her. Hermione surreptitiously slid her feet so she was practically leaning against him. No matter what Ron had to show her, she definitely was standing in the perfect place. "You ever see the moon like that?" he asked, indicating the gleaming full moon radiating eons of soft romantic light.

Hermione shook her head, her hair probably tickling him unpleasantly. Automatically, she brought a hand up to smooth the bushy madness down, but there was no wild mane to restrain. She ran her fingers through her hair with surprise. Whoa. Her hair had magically transformed into a long, silky mane of beautiful chestnut brown curls without a single trace of frizz. Her hair hadn't even looked this good at the Yule Ball. Looking down, Hermione realized that her hair wasn't the only thing that had changed; instead of the white and blue pajamas she had been wearing, she was now dressed in a satin sky blue dress with thin straps, a scooped neckline, and a skirt that flared slightly at the hips and brushed her knees. Even in a daydream, Hermione self-consciously touched the sleek fabric before bringing up a hand to her bare collarbone. She hadn't shown this much skin in a good long time and the idea of Ron being the one to see her dressed like this was exhiliratingily scary.

Ron's arm that had been pointing to the moon lowered so one of his fingers could lightly trace the curve of her bicep. "You really have no idea, do you?"

His breath burned thrillingly on her neck and Hermione unconsciously leaned so more of her skin could experience the delicious sensation. It was becoming increasingly difficult to think. "No idea about what?" she asked blankly.

To answer her question, Ron's hand slid to hers so he could gently spin her to face him. He just looked at her for a long, long, wonderful moment that made everything around them stand still in anticipation before Ron as usual turned Hermione's world upside down by finally, mercifully letting her know what it would be like kissing Ron for real. There was no Malfoy to divert, no Lavender, nobody else on the planet but her and him. Hermione pressed herself up on her tiptoes so she could wrap her free arm around his neck. This was the most powerful magic Hermione had ever experienced; she definitely didn't want it to ever stop. She wanted to forever feel the world spinning, her mind reeling, and her heart singing in everlasting joy. Although a tiny part of her knew that she was in a daydream, Hermione also knew that this was one of the best, truest moments of her life.

It had to end eventually although Hermione and Ron used every last moment to keep themselves connected this intimately. Now that they had finally reached this point, Hermione didn't ever want to go back. She dropped back down to her heels, her arm still draped around Ron's neck while her other hand continued to hold on to Ron's. Her forehead fell against Ron's chest and she took a deep, soothing inhale of his jumper. She didn't ever want to let him go.

Ron raised their intertwined hands so he could brush aside some of her perfect curls out of her face. She looked up at him and almost immediately had to look away although she certainly didn't want to. For some reason, it was too overwhelming to look at someone and see everything just in their eyes. Ron moved his head so his nose nuzzled the side of her forehead and his mouth was close enough to her ear so he could whisper. "Now what?"

Hermione seriously considered telling him to shut up and commence snogging her again, but instead, she tilted her head back up and gave him a long, lingering look before reluctantly unwrapping her arm from his shoulders. "I want to show you something."

"What?" Ron asked curiously as Hermione pulled him away from the beech tree. The Hogwarts lake shimmered and vanished as they walked, the ground beneath their feet turning from rocky to sandy. Ron looked down with surprise. He bent down to pick up a handful of the soft white sand, allowing the particles to stream softly through his fingers while looking about at the huge white cliffs that lined the one end of the beach. As he stood up, he turned and gazed out for the first time onto the crystal turquoise waters of the Aegean which stretched for miles and miles in a vast uninterrupted plain of perfect blue. He let out a soft whistle. "What's this?"

"Greece," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "The island of Zakynthos. She pointed to the monstrosity that was plopped down in the middle of the sand. "Shipwreck Beach to be exact."

"That's a ship?" Ron exclaimed in surprise. He tilted his head as he headed towards what appeared to be a giant mound of rock, sand, and vegetation. "Aren't they supposed to float?"

"Yes, but this particular ship ran aground thirteen years ago," Hermione continued. "It created quite a bit of a scandal at the time because it carried an illegal shipment of cigarettes. They just left the remains here and over time, nature took its course and now we have this." She crouched down and ran her hand over the smooth blackish-brown rock. "Feel it. It doesn't feel like normal stone. That's how you can tell there's something different underneath."

Ron complied and let out another soft whistle. "Well, son of a bitch," he breathed. He fell backwards onto the sand, his legs sprawled out in front of him and supporting his weight with his hands, he gazed up at the former ship. "You know," he noted idly. "If this happened at home, the Ministry could have gotten rid of it with a flick of a wand. They never would have known what it could become."

"And which way do you prefer it?"

"This way," Ron answered immediately.

Hermione beamed widely. She allowed him a minute to revel at the scenery around them before nudging his calf with her toe. "I've always wanted to show this place to you, you know." Hermione confessed. "I knew you would love it."

"Of course you did. No one gets me like you do," Ron affirmed sincerely. "I don't get me like you do." Hermione blushed deeply, but Ron didn't notice as he had pulled his hands out from under him so he could fall flat on his back and stare up at the night sky. The stars seemed to burn much more brightly here. It was without a doubt the most wondrous place he had ever seen and what was even more amazing was that it was entirely Muggle; Ron could sense when there was magical energy in the air and there was none here aside from the majesty of the awestruck natural beauty. "Damn, Hermione," he said in utter amazement. "Where did you find this place?"

By this time, Hermione's face color had returned to normal and she could answer him with the utmost seriousness. "I came here for holiday when I was seven," Hermione recalled. "This was where Mum and Dad came for the honeymoon. For their tenth anniversary, they wanted to come back and brought me along." She dropped to the sand next to him and pointed vaguely in the direction of the docks. "You actually have to take a ferry to get here. It's quite secluded, especially at this time of night."

Ron rolled his head towards her and grinned. "And whatever will we do with ourselves with all of this privacy?"

"Don't be getting any ideas," Hermione warned with a lofty raise of her chin and a smile.

Ron's grin confirmed that he was getting some very nice ideas about what to do next, but all he did was lift his hand to run his hand up and down Hermione's back like McLaggen did at the Christmas party but in an infinitely gentler, more affectionate manner. Reveling in the sensation, Hermione drew up her knees so she could wrap her arms around them. They sat in contented silence for several minutes, just watching the waves crash and break against the sandy shores. "You know it's not like this with Lavender," Ron finally spoke with a nervous huskiness to his voice.

Hermione repressed the urge to break away from him. She contented herself to savagely picking a hole at the cuffs of her jeans--once again, to fit the mood and location, her clothes had changed and she was now dressed in a perfectly broken-in pair of jeans and a loose white cotton button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up so she could feel the sea breeze on her arms. "I don't want to talk about Lavender," she said quietly.

"Yeah, you do," Ron protested. He propped himself up so he could look directly at her. "You need to hear this."

She turned so she could look at him. Somehow, he managed to still keep rubbing her back. Even more amazingly, the strong breeze lifted her hair so it floated a few inches from her shoulders but stayed out of her eyes. She didn't want to be distracted by her untamable hair right now. Ron was right; she really did need to hear from him just why he was choosing to be with Lavender over her. "I'm listening."

"Me and Lavender are nothing," Ron said promptly. "I'd much rather be with you. This is just something I have to do."

"Why?"

"Why did you have to snog Viktor?" Ron countered.

"Because you were going around saying that you would rather ask a pretty but horrible girl to the ball rather than someone like me!" Hermione snapped straight back.

Ron finally stopped stroking her back so he could sit all the way up. "So you felt you had to prove that you were good enough to be snogged, right? You needed to prove that you could have a boyfriend too. It was like a test for you: could you be what you thought I wanted. And always, you passed with flying colors and bagged the best bloke around." He scowled fiercely and unearthed a small stone buried in the sand. It quickly sailed in the air with savage fury and landed with an angry plop several yards away in the sea.

"I don't see what this has to do with anything," Hermione said in lieu of an answer. She couldn't deny that Ron's assessment of her feelings about Viktor wasn't accurate. Although he was thicker than Hagrid's rock cakes, he really could be uncannily perspective at times.

"It has everything to do with this," Ron insisted. He shifted his position so he could appeal to her directly, his eyes undeniably earnest, truthful, and bluer than the cyan waters twenty feet from them. "I always knew that Vicky was crazy about you and I reckon I did know in some ways that you must have done things." He ground his knuckles into the sand as he spoke. "But after you didn't visit him in the summer and you told me that you and him weren't fooling around, that you were just friends, I just reckoned that you hadn't done anything. I thought--well, I hoped--that you hadn't and I didn't have anything to worry about."

"Well, you certainly still worried," Hermione muttered. She recalled vividly all the times that Ron would balk every time Viktor's name came up.

"Because I knew he wanted more," Ron answered instantly. "I knew it every time he looked at you. I mean, bloody hell, Hermione, it's you--how couldn't he want more? So when I heard that he got more than I thought--" He shrugged awkwardly. "--it was like he won."

"This isn't a game, Ron," Hermione said slowly. The sanity of her tender heart definitely was not a game.

Ron raised an eyebrow at her. "Then what the hell have we been playing at the last few weeks?"

Hermione chose not to respond. Instead, she leaned back on one arm, tossing her hair audaciously over her shoulder. "So this is all about Viktor," Hermione asked incredulously. "You felt threatened because Viktor had snogged me so you decided you needed to do some snogging of your own?"

"Maybe, but it's more than that--I needed to feel worthy of you," Ron explained. He looked just as surprised as she did to hear those words come out of his mouth. "Every time I look at you, Hermione--it's-I can't--" He sighed and reached out to needlessly brush her hair back. "--I can't even look at you sometimes because I've never wanted something so much that it hurts."

She swallowed hard and leaned into his touch. "I know what you mean."

For a moment, Ron just caressed and memorized the curve of her cheek before continuing. "I don't know what to do when I look at you and I should. I don't know what to do when I'm around you but I have to if I'm ever going to give you everything. So I reckon if I'm with Lavender for a while--"

"--you'll be able to figure that out," Hermione answered to him. Looking down at a patch of sand near his knee, Hermione boldly reached out to trace her fingertip over the back of Ron's hand. "But Ron, I want you to figure that out with me, not Lavender."

Ron flipped his hand around so he could take her hand in his. "You had Viktor," he said seriously. "Just let me have this for a little while."

"So this is about jealousy?" Hermione asked. "You want me to feel what you go through when you hear about Viktor?"

"No." He squeezed her hand affectionately. "This has nothing to do with you. This is something about me."

"What?"

He just smiled wanly. "You'll understand one day, I swear. But I'd like to tell you myself." His other hand rose to resume fiddling with Hermione's hair. "And not in a dream like this."

Hermione looked down at her lap, heart dropping like a stone. "That's right, it's a daydream," she breathed in infinite disappointment. She had forgotten.

His hand slid to under her chin to raise her head so their eyes could meet. "But that doesn't mean there's no truth to it. Everything that's happened is real in some way, you'll see." He smiled so warmly at her that her temperature jumped ten degrees in three seconds. "Just have a little faith." Their faces were pulling closer and closer together, drawn by the inexplicable overwhelming attraction that had been there from the moment they had met on the Hogwarts Express. "We'll be together, I swear to you," Ron whispered before sealing the pledge with the best use of his lips that was humanly possible.

Despite the uncomfortable topic of conversation, Hermione couldn't help a little inexplicable sound escaping from the back of her throat as she sank into him. Ron really did know what she wanted more than anything. She had always known that they were more than snogging and this proved it: in a daydream, when the secret desires of her subconscious were pushed to the surface for analysis, instead of only snogging and rolling about on a deserted beach, she and Ron had talked about Lavender. What she had really needed was to be reassured that no matter what happened, if she wanted him, he was hers. It just couldn't happen yet. She had to wait a little longer.

And for the first time since the dreaded incident, Hermione decided that that was okay with her.

She opened her eyes to bask in the light of his, to tell him that she would let him do this idiotic thing if it was so important to him, but there was only the blank ceiling of her bedroom to behold. "Damn!" Hermione let out before clapping a hand over her mouth in dire embarrassment. She had been spending much too much time with Weasleys.

She sat up quickly to make sure her parents hadn't heard her--they didn't condone swearing--but there was only the ticking of her clock mounted on the wall. With a glance, Hermione saw that it was nearly midnight; her parents must have already gone to sleep. Pushing back her once again incredibly bushy hair, Hermione scooted forward to the edge of the bed to reclaim the box she had dropped while falling back onto the mattress to daydream. Fred and George really were quite talented; they were going to make a fortune if all of their products were as marvelous as this one.

It certainly had put some things in perspective for her. Feeling more alert in ages, Hermione rose to set the box prominently on her desk--for some reason, she didn't want to throw it away although it was now useless. She wasn't going to play any more games with Ron. No more dates with McLaggen, no more cruel laughter whenever he struggled in class, no more anything that could openly hurt him. She wasn't going to try to draw him away from Lavender. It was up to him. All she could do was wait and have a little faith.

Bending down next to her rubbish bin, Hermione pulled out the parcel that had arrived for her this morning. She hadn't even unwrapped it when she saw who it was from, but now she wanted to know. A cursory inspection told her that it was about the size of textbook, but it was nearly heavy enough to be a lengthy book like Harry had sent her. Curiously, Hermione tore off the brown paper and smiled momentarily. It was a box of deluxe sugar quills from Honeyduke's, the ones she had looked at the day they visited Hogsmeade. He had remembered.

He'll come back to you, Hermione told herself more confidently as she set the box next to the other one she had just placed on her desk. In the meantime, there were plenty of other things to do. Her classes were much more pressing and required a great deal of studying. Harry would need help piecing together the snippets of Voldemort's memories to discern a possible weakness. Perhaps now she could even find time to resume S.P.E.W. meetings. There were plenty of other things to do besides sitting around pining for Ron. She would just turn the other way and let him be while she went on with her life. It was as simple as that.

Hermione picked up the book Harry had gotten her on defensive spells and jinxes--he had received a copy last year for Christmas and she had noted to him a few months ago how much useful it must be--and curled back under the covers. Feeling more like herself in a long time, Hermione settled down, began to read, and for the last fourteen minutes of the holiday, had a very merry Christmas.


Thanks for reading! This was all original material--yay! Next up: will Hermione's new philosophy about Ron hold up? The return from the holidays...