Hermione Granger and the Order of the Phoenix

"Hey, Hermione, wait up!"

Hermione turned around, and waited expectantly for Neville Longbottom as he jogged over to her. "Good morning, Neville," she said pleasantly.

"Is Harry all right?"

All other thoughts in her head came to a crashing halt.

"Why wouldn't he be?" Hermione asked anxiously. "Did something happen to him?"

"Oh, well, yes," Neville answered, looking rather nervous that he had brought the topic up after seeing her face. "He got rather ill last night, and was rambling on about Ron's dad getting hurt or something, and Professor McGonagall took him and Ron somewhere, and they never came back...Hermione?"

Hermione, upon hearing those words, had promptly took off at a run to the Great Hall so fast that she actually had to throw her hands out to prevent herself from running straight into the open doors of the hall since she had so much momentum. A quick scan of the Great Hall showed that neither Harry nor Ron was there, and she also noted that Fred, George, and Ginny were absent too. Granted, it was still early, and all of them could be asleep, but Neville had said Harry and Ron hadn't come back, and if something had happened to Mr. Weasley, all of the Weasley children would have been notified, and if the injury was serious enough, probably left Hogwarts to see him.

Her eyes next went to the Head Table, and she saw that Dumbledore and Snape were both not present either. They were prominent Order members; if something had happened, they would probably have gone to help. But Professor McGonagall was still here, and Neville had said that she was the one that taken Harry and Ron out of the dormitory, so wouldn't she be gone as well?

Professor McGonagall seemed to sense her gaze, and rose to her feet, but before Hermione could start towards her, the professor held up her hand in warning. Hermione then realized that Professor Umbridge was seated not two chairs over from McGonagall, and she noticed that the DADA professor did not look happy in the least. McGonagall swiftly pointed one finger towards the door to one of the side chambers of the Hall, and Hermione nodded discretely, quietly making her way to the door as Professor McGonagall followed suit.

A thousand questions were buzzing around in Hermione's head--she wanted to ask about Harry, about Mr. Weasley, about Ron, if anything had happened with You-Know...Voldemort, if there was anything that she could do. But once the door was closed, and locked with a flick of McGonagall's wand, Hermione found she didn't have to say a word.

"Miss Granger, we'll have to be brief," McGonagall said tersely. "But I assure you that Mr. Potter is fine, but Arthur Weasley has been injured, and Mr. Potter and the Weasleys have left to check on his condition. We don't know the extent of Arthur's injuries at the moment, but Professor Dumbledore asked me to inform you that he will personally update you as soon as we know everything." Whether her professor was about to tell her anymore, Hermione didn't know, because someone at that moment tried the handle of the door rather roughly. McGonagall rolled her eyes at Hermione and quickly opened the door. Sure enough, Professor Umbridge stumbled a few steps into the room, her face as pink as her atrocious jumper with exertion. "Ah, Dolores," McGonagall said with icy civility, "I didn't know you were there. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Umbridge straightened up, pulling on down on her cardigan. "Yes, Minerva," she replied with her sickingly sweet voice, "I was wondering once again if you knew the whereabouts of the headmaster."

"And I will tell you once again," All civility had now vanished from McGonagall's voice. "That Professor Dumbledore is accompanying the Weasley children and Mr. Potter to St. Mungo's as their father has been hospitalized. I was just informing Miss Granger here of the situation and making sure she is capable of taking over Mr. Weasley's prefects duties for the evening." She shot a beady eye over to Hermione, and Hermione quickly nodded--she could patrol by herself. "So I suggest you concentrate on your classes, Dolores, and leave these matters to the headmaster, as they are none of your business!"

Hermione grinned; there was nothing better than seeing her favorite professor reprimand her least favorite teacher.

**

Hermione had expected to receive an owl at some point during the day from Ron, Harry, or Ginny telling her what was happening, but now it was past eight o'clock, and she didn't expect they would send Hedwig or Pig out so late, especially after what had happened to Hedwig. Besides, it was rather easy for owls to get intercepted here, but still, she would think that they would get word to her somehow.

Well, no news is probably good news, Hermione thought as she walked through the empty sixth-floor corridor. If Mr. Weasley had died...her stomach did a somersault at the thought. Mr. Weasley was one of the kindest people she had ever met--he had been so kind to her parents at Diagon Alley in second-year when they had been rather nervous about being in the magical world, as they always were. He always made her feel comfortable and welcome whenever she visited the Burrow, and especially this past summer. She bit her lip as she remembered the conversation they had had when she had first arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place. He had actually reassured her that everything was going to be all right, and usually, only Ron or Harry could do that. Ron. Hermione's chest started to hurt at what Ron must be going through. Ron adored his father, it was plain to see that, he had to be so worried, and she couldn't do anything for him. And Harry too, if he had witnessed something in his dreams, he would most likely be blaming himself or feeling that he had done something to cause the accident, or whatever had happened. And she knew that Harry thought of the Weasleys as his own family too, he would be devastated if anything happened to any of them. Well, maybe not Percy, but he would still feel awful. A funny lump caught in her throat. She would feel awful too.

She was glad that she was almost finished patrolling--she didn't want to start crying in the middle of the corridor, although she was quite alone. It was funny the moments you missed a person the most; she ached for Ron to be walking next to her, either making her laugh or starting up an argument or just talking to her. She smiled; when Ron had joined the Quidditch team she had actually thought they wouldn't have any private time together. But since they had so many prefect duties together, that fear had been quite unnecessary. Ron was probably sick of her by this time. She swallowed hard. She hoped he wasn't.

Hermione hurried up the staircase to the seventh-floor. All she had to do was explore the rest of the hallway, and then she'd be free to retreat up to her dormitory to finish her homework in peace, and cry if she felt the occasion called for it.

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

The lump in her larynx vanished as bile filled her throat instead. It was interesting how one, cold, drawling voice could produce such anger from a rational girl like Hermione Granger.

She stopped walking, but kept her back to him. "What are you doing up here?"

"Can't a student explore if he wants to?" Malfoy asked with a mixture of sarcasm and contempt.

Hermione made sure that her wand was still hidden from his sight as she slowly turned around to give him one of her famous glares that she knew the first-years were terrified of. Malfoy was leaning up against one of the walls, eyes on her in a manner that she couldn't quite comprehend. Well, he wasn't leaning against the wall, exactly, but one of the tapestries. A very familiar tapestry.

She swore internally. Malfoy was standing directly across the blank wall that hid the Room of Requirement.

"You are supposed to be monitoring your own hallway, if I remember correctly," she informed him in what she hoped was a steady, professional tone. "I'm in charge of sixth and seventh floors."

"True," Malfoy conceded mockingly, "but I thought you might want some help with the Weasel away."

Her grip tightened on her robe that was still concealed in the folds of her robes.

"I can handle it, thanks," she still managed to speak calmly, how, she never knew, but she did it, "so you can just bugger off!"

Okay, maybe she didn't manage to stay calm.

"I don't know, Granger," Malfoy's brow furrowed as if he was thinking very hard, "Potter and Weasel aren't here, are they? So what would you do if..."

Before Malfoy could even complete his sentence or make a move, Hermione's wand was out and aimed at his chest. He started slightly.

"Go on," Hermione said with false pleasantness. "What would I do if..."

"You've grown up, Granger," Malfoy admitted, but the hardness in his eyes showed Hermione that this was anything but a compliment. "You've been learning a lot, haven't you? Especially in Defense?"

Malfoy's smirk returned as she twitched involuntarily. He had hit a nerve, and knew it. Hermione swallowed hard.

"What are you going on about?" she demanded. Her eyes shot over to the blank stretch wall, praying that no door had appeared there, and to her relief, it was just as deserted as before. Without waiting for an answer, she pocketed her wand angrily. "Get out of here!" she ordered, backing away a few steps and figuring that she would just go back to the Gryffindor Tower lest she reveal anything to Malfoy about D.A.

A rustle of robes told her that Malfoy had just gone for his wand, and she instinctively ducked as some sort of spell flew past her shoulder. Her wand was back out and the two foes started at each other, deadlocked.

"It's not smart to turn your back on an enemy, Granger," Malfoy mocked.

"It's not smart to have such poor aim," Hermione retorted.

Malfoy twirled his wand expertly, its tip never straying from its aim on Hermione. "Come on, Granger, let's have a go, shall we?"

"I could report you for this," Hermione warned him. "Attacking a prefect isn't the best idea."

"Well, you don't count, Granger, remember, you are a Mudblood."

Hermione started slightly. This was the first time Malfoy had mentioned the M-word when they were alone. He usually used the Mudblood ploy to rile Ron up. And in spite of her independence and self-reliance, Hermione couldn't help wishing fervently that Ron were here right now, not to protect her, of course, but just to help out.

"Well, by that philosophy, I could attack your troll of a girlfriend," Hermione shot back, "and you too. I don't think egotistical pricks such as yourself count as human beings." She usually didn't use language like this, but dammit, he was just so irritating.

Malfoy's smirk just grew larger. "Have you ever wondered why we don't shag?"

If her jaw could have hit the ground, it would have. She gaped at him openly. Was he serious?

"Hermione? Everything all right?"

Hermione jumped. Malfoy was now scowling as Dean Thomas came up from behind her, watching Malfoy carefully, his own wand casually out.

"Yes, Dean, of course," she replied, lowering her wand and shooting Malfoy a triumphant look. He was too clever to go up against two students at once, when he for once was without his goons. "Just a little prefect discussion."

"Well, sorry to interrupt," Dean said severely, "but it's almost nine o'clock, Hermione."

"Right," Hermione kept her wand ready but she took her eyes off of Malfoy. "You better clear out of here, Malfoy."

Malfoy let out a sarcastic laugh. "Do you really think I'm going to take orders from two Mudbloods?"

"Watch your mouth!" Dean spat out, temper flying in a way that was startlingly like Ron's, and his wand was now pointing straight at Malfoy, shaking slightly.

"Dean," Hermione warned swiftly.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows, looking rather nonplussed. "Well, I didn't know that all the Mudbloods were doing so well in defense."

Hermione stiffened again at the remark aimed at D.A. Malfoy couldn't know about that, no Slytherins were in D.A., how on earth would he know? Dean also visibly reacted to Malfoy's words, and like Hermione, his eyes shot over to the wall that they were standing in front of.

"Dean," she repeated, lowering his arm rather roughly and glaring at Malfoy again. "He's not worth it. Let's just go back to the common room." She then without another look at Malfoy, swept past him, dragging Dean along with her.

Well, not entirely. She risked a glance back at Malfoy when she and Dean were a safe distance away, and her stomach jolted when she saw that he was staring at the blank wall with noted interest.

**

Hermione entered the Great Hall the next morning with almost the same amount of trepidation that she had yesterday. McGonagall had promised that she would receive a full report about what was going on today, and she was about to mad with waiting. Anything could have happened by now; Mr. Weasley could be dead for all she knew, and she wasn't there for Ron and his family. She scanned the front table and was disappointed to find that McGonagall was nowhere to be seen.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione jumped and turned around, her hand over her chest. "Professor, you startled me," she admitted with a slight laugh.

"Would you come with me, please," McGonagall glanced anxiously behind her, and Hermione realized in an instant why the professor was being so curt; Umbridge had yet to arrive. They needed to get out so she couldn't attempt to eavesdrop.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked, slightly puzzled as McGonagall led her away from her office and down a corridor that she had rarely traveled down.

"Professor Dumbledore would like to speak to you," she explained. She stopped in front of a statue of a stone gargoyle. "Fizzing Whizbee," she said quietly. Hermione recoiled a step as the gargoyle sprang to life, revealing a sort of spiral escalator. McGonagall gestured towards it. "Go ahead, he's expecting you. You have been excused from Ancient Runes this morning."

"Thank you," Hermione was about to step on the spiral steps when McGonagall stopped her.

"Everything is fine, Miss Granger,"

"Thank you," Hermione repeated more earnestly this time. She felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders as she traveled upwards to the oak door, which she tentatively knocked on.

"Come in," Dumbledore's pleasant voice echoed.

Hermione entered the office, and she couldn't help pausing to examine the numerous whirling, silver instruments, the lively plethora of portraits of headmasters, and the bright red-and-gold bird that she knew had to be Fawkes. She had never been in Dumbledore's office before, and she wished that she could spend hours exploring all of the books, gadgets, and the other miscellaneous items cluttering the room. But she didn't have time today.

Dumbledore was sitting behind the desk, a small smile of welcome on his otherwise grim face. His blue eyes were as alive as ever, but they were much graver than Hermione ever remembered them. No, she thought, McGonagall said he was fine, he couldn't be dead.

"Arthur Weasley is alive," Dumbledore got straight to the point, something that Hermione was instantly grateful for. She dropped down in relief in an empty chair. "He's resting comfortably at St. Mungo's and I expect he will be released sometime soon."

"Thank goodness," Hermione breathed in relief. "But what about Harry? Neville said he was ill after that dream. Is he all right? What about Ron?"

Dumbledore hesitated, which Hermione took as a bad sign. "The Weasleys are doing just fine," he said slowly, "but I am quite concerned with Harry's state."

"Why?" Hermione pressed. "What happened?"

"He's not physically ill in any way," Dumbledore said slowly. "But he is suffering from acute guilt complicated excessive overdose of miscommunication and wrong information."

"Ah," Hermione nodded, "yes, he's quite susceptible to that, isn't he?"

Dumbledore's small grin returned, and vanished just as quickly. "He tried to run away last night."

"What?" Hermione burst out. "Why?"

"Because he blames himself for what happened to Arthur," Dumbledore explained calmly.

"But that wasn't his fault!" Hermione protested. "Voldemort must have attacked Mr. Weasley, and Harry was able to see it! He's had these dreams before, it was just one of the more vivid ones, that's all!"

"Miss Granger, calm yourself," Dumbledore said lightly, his eyes twinkling, "I don't believe that I need to hear this, do you?"

Hermione leaned back in her chair. "Sorry,"

"Quite all right," Dumbledore rose from his desk. "Now first of all, Miss Granger, I would like to commend you for finally being able to speak Lord Voldemort's name." Hermione blushed; sometimes she forgot that she could manage to do that. "And second, I'd like to further elaborate on what happened to Harry after arriving to St. Mungo's." Hermione looked at him puzzled; what did a hospital visit have to do with Harry's attempt to run away. "I believe that some of our young Mr. Weasleys' have a rather clever invention enabling them to eavesdrop on conversations?" Hermione nodded; yes, she knew Extendable Ears very well. "Miss Weasley told us that they used this invention to overhear some rather disturbing hypothesis some Order members had about what Harry experienced."

"What was that?" Hermione inquired.

"Some believe that Voldemort possessed Harry."

Hermione's jaw dropped in complete and utter shock. The thought was so terrifying and ridiculous that she couldn't even think at all for a few moments. "That can't be true," she finally stuttered out.

"Of course not," Dumbledore continued. "But I'm afraid some Order members do not fully understand Harry and Voldemort's connection, and therefore make the wrong conclusions."

"So now Harry thinks that Voldemort somehow made Harry attack Mr. Weasley?" Hermione clarified. "That's ridiculous!"

"I know it is," Dumbledore soothed. "The issue is that Harry does not."

"Well, haven't Ron or anyone told Harry that they don't blame him?" Hermione pressed. A brilliant idea flashed in her head and she straightened up in her chair. "Why not have Ginny talk to him; she's actually been possessed by Voldemort, she can tell him how it is, and I bet that her experience is nothing like what Harry's was!"

"I assure you, Miss Granger, that there are several people who are most anxious to reassure Harry that he is not at fault, but it appears that Harry does not want to talk to anyone," Dumbledore was now at Fawkes' perch and stroking his pet's smooth feathers.

"Sounds like Harry," Hermione muttered as she got to her feet. "What are we going to do?"

"We?" Dumbledore smiled again. "I'm taking it that you wish to join Harry and the Weasleys?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione said without even pausing to think about it.

"Good," Dumbledore nodded with pleasure. "I think your presence would be most helpful at Grimmauld Place."

"Is that where they are?" Hermione asked, a little surprised. She would have thought they'd have gone to the Burrow.

"Yes, Molly wants to be close to Arthur," Dumbledore explains, "And Sirius agreed to keep an eye on the children while she visits. I received word from her this morning that if your invitation to stay with them for the holidays is still open, but she mentioned that you already had plans."

Damn.

"Yes, I do," Hermione remembered, biting her lip. She wanted to see her parents, and despite her worries about seeing Viktor again and skiing once again, she had been quite excited to go. But she couldn't go now, not after everything that had happened. She had to be there for Ron and Harry; she wouldn't be able to have a good time if she went off to Bulgaria and worried about her best friends the entire time.

Dumbledore looked at her intently before speaking. "Do you wish you to contact your parents do discuss this?"

"Yes," Hermione said with relief.

Dumbledore nodded and beckoned for her to follow him across the office to one of the tables cluttered with magical objects, except for the one, familiar Muggle item that Hermione had completely missed seeing at first glance.

"A telephone! But I thought Muggle inventions didn't work around Hogwarts with all the magic in the air."

"Ah," Dumbledore's eyes winked mischievously. "Then it's a good thing that a bit of magic can rectify that, isn't it?" He gestured to the phone as she laughed. "Take your time."

"Thank you," she called after him as Dumbledore disappeared at the back of his office to another chamber of the area. She merely stared at the receiver for a long moment before picking it up and dialing. What on earth was she going to say? Hi, Mum, hi, Dad. Listen, I can't come home for the holidays because my best friend had a nightmare about my other best friend's dad and now they're both in quite a state and I have to stay behind to help them.

Somehow, Hermione didn't think that her parents would buy that explanation. Especially since she had neglected to tell them about Voldemort or anything like that. She had even gone as far to chalk up her Petrifaction in second-year as an accident in Transfiguration class.

"Hello, Granger and Granger Dental Practices, this is William."

Oh, thank Merlin, it's Dad. Her dad was much more easygoing than her mum.

"Dad, it's me."

"Hermione! You told us you didn't have a phone! How are you, dear?" Her father must have moved his mouth away from the end piece since his voice sounded farther away as he said, "Helen, it's Hermione!"

"Things are fine, Dad, just fine," Hermione answered vaguely. "But that's not why I'm calling." Just say it! "I'm calling to say I don't think it's a very good idea for me to come home for the holidays."

There was a long pause.

"Why not?"

Uh oh, this wasn't looking good. Her father's voice had taken on a very strained tone that she only heard whenever she had been in very big trouble. Think, Hermione, you're supposed to be clever, remember? You talked Mum into going to London for the summer, you can do it again...

That's it!

"Well, did Mum tell you about the O.W.L.s?"

"What are those?"

"Tests I have to take at the end of term for placement into my classes for next year," Hermione explained quickly. "That's why I stayed with Ron for the summer, remember? So I could study?"

"Oh, right."

"Well, anyone who wants to do well on these exams uses the holidays to study," Hermione didn't fancy the fact that she was becoming quite adept at lying to her parents, but she had to do it. "And I can't study properly in Bulgaria, so..."

"You think it's best to just stay at school," her dad finished for her. Hermione had a feeling that he was saying that so her mother could know what was going on. She thought she heard her Mum sigh with disappointment and she then heard a door close.

"Yes," Hermione swallowed hard; goodness, this was harder than she expected. "I'm sorry, Dad, I know you were looking forward to this, but I just can't."

"No, no, I understand," Hermione didn't think her dad understood at all, but now didn't appear to be the proper time to bring that up. "Well, I can't say that I'm very happy about this, love."

"I know, I'm not either," Hermione said quietly. "But I have to."

"I understand," her father said again sadly before adopting a very false cheery tone. "Well, your mum was a little disappointed to miss seeing your Aunt Gina, but now we'll be able to run over to Nottingham for a couple days."

"Good," Hermione said. "Send everyone my love."

"I will,"

"I better go," Hermione glanced at the clock; Ancient Runes had ended fifteen minutes ago and she'd prefer not to miss any more of Arithmancy. "And I really am sorry."

"Don't worry about it, love, we'll be fine. I'll just tell your mother--well, I'll tell her something."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Be good and study hard."

"I will."

"And happy Christmas, love. We love you."

Hermione swallowed hard. "I love you too. Tell Mum Happy Christmas for me."

"I will. Good-bye, dear."

"Bye, Dad."

**

BANG

"Oomph!"

That settles it, Hermione thought grimly as she picked herself up for the tenth time, the Knight Bus is not the ideal way to travel. She rubbed her sore nose while peering out of the window, and to her great relief, she realized that she had reached her destination.

"Leaky Cauldron, London!"

Stan Shunpike quickly tottered back to help Hermione with her trunk. "Thank you," she called to the driver, who waved good-bye as she stepped off the coach.

"You got someone meetin' you 'ere, luv?" Stan asked after setting her trunk down on the sidewalk.

"I think so," Hermione said hesitantly, frowning slightly. That aspect of the trip to Grimmauld Place had not been discussed before her departure. Dumbledore assured her that he would contact the Weasleys to let them know she was coming, but he had neglected to say anything who would be escorting her. He had just told her to take the carriages down to Hogsmeade like everyone else, but instead of getting on the train, to head toward the outskirts of the village before signaling for the bus. She had then been ordered to ask to be dropped off at the Leaky Cauldron; they couldn't risk someone on the coach remembering that she had been dropped off at Grimmauld Place. That was also the reason why she couldn't just take the train to King's Cross; she couldn't be seen heading off with an Order member with Lucius Malfoy present. You could never be too careful nowadays. But did they honestly expect her to walk to Grimmauld Place alone?

"Well, 'ave a nice day," Stan tipped his hat to her before jumping back in the coach and the triple-deckered bus raced out of sight. Hermione gripped her trunk tight as she continued to glance about. But only strangers bustled past her on the busy sidewalk. Hermione sighed and pushed some wind-swept hair out of her eyes. Well, it wasn't like she couldn't handle Muggle London by herself. She did remember how to get to Grimmauld Place; it just would have been nice to have a bit of company.

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned with surprise, a pleased smile on her face. "Ron?"

"There you are," Ron made his way through the crowd towards her, "we've been waiting for ages!"

"Well, there were quite a few people who had to be dropped off before me," Hermione explained, quietly taking in Ron's appearance while she spoke. He looked all right; perhaps a tad paler than normal, but he was smiling. Although he didn't have his cloak on, maybe he was pale from the cold. Hermione suppressed the urge to chide Ron for running outside without proper clothing, and simply looked up at him in concern. "How are you?"

"Fine," Ron replied swiftly. "Everything's fine; you heard that Dad's going to pull through, right?"

"Yes," Hermione said, "Professor Dumbledore told me everything. I--I..." Hermione couldn't express how relieved and grateful she was when she had heard that Mr. Weasley was out of danger.

"Yeah," Ron cut her off while stooping over to pick up her trunk. "I know."

"Ronald Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley's sharp voice instantly made Ron snap to attention and swing around to look guiltily at her. "What on earth are you doing, running out in the dead of winter without your cloak!" She shoved an armful of fabric into Ron's arms. "You are going to catch your death of cold, young man!" Ron flushed as he hastily slipped into his heavy cloak, pulled on his gloves, and jammed on the Chudley Cannons hat that Harry had given him for Christmas last year. Mrs. Weasley turned towards Hermione while her son dressed. "Hermione, dear, lovely to see you again. Have a good trip down?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione replied politely.

"Well, best be off then!" Mrs. Weasley said brightly. "The Underground waits for no one!"

Mrs. Weasley led the way while Ron lagged behind, hampered by Hermione's trunk. He jerked his head away from his mother, indicating to her that he wanted her to hang back along with him.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly.

"It's Harry," Ron explained. "Ever since we got back from St. Mungo's, he hasn't said two words to anyone." He glanced edgily up at his mother to make sure she wasn't listening before leaning in and lowering his voice. "Y'see, we used the Extendable Ears..."

"I know all about it," Hermione interrupted. "Ginny told Dumbledore all about it. You overheard someone say that they think Harry's being possessed."

"Yeah," Ron looked quite shocked. "Ginny told Dumbledore?"

"Yes."

"So does Mum know..."

"Yes, Ron, I do know about you using those toys of your brothers; your sister told Albus all about it when he stopped by last night," Mrs. Weasley called over her shoulder crossly, "and believe me, we'll have a word later about that!"

Ron gulped, but his fear didn't last very long. He had more important things to worry about it; he could plan how to get his sister back later.

"Anyway," Ron continued, "we reckon that he's blaming himself again, and somehow thinks that You-Know-Who made him attack Dad."

The conversation had to be abruptly terminated as they entered the crowded Underground station, and all attention had to be focused on lugging Hermione's trunk through the turnstile, down the stairs, and onto the car.

"Damn, Hermione, read much?" Ron panted as he dropped one end of her trunk with a thud, slightly out of breath. He rubbed his upper bicep wearily.

Hermione only gave him a haughty look as a response before jumping back to the previous discussion. "Have you spoken to him today?"

"No, I told you he's avoiding us," Ron answered. "He's been holing up somewhere; I looked but couldn't find him. He doesn't even know that I left." He looked almost bitter as the car lurched violently, and he swayed to the left, oblivious of the usefulness of the overhead rail that Hermione was holding on to.

Hermione fought the urge to laugh at Ron's clumsiness while she helped him unload her belongings out of the tube station. Mrs. Weasley was now chattering away to them about the glorious fact that it was now snowing, Christmas plans and when they should go visit Mr. Weasley, so once again, hers and Ron's discussion had to cease.

Ron appeared to be more than a little disgruntled at his mother's interference, so when they finally reached 12 Grimmauld Place, he passed the trunk off to her.

"Can you get this, Mum? Hermione and I'll be right in."

Mrs. Weasley eyed him curiously. "All right," she conceded, "but not too long; it's not a good idea for you to be seen around here, Secret-Keeper or not." Ron and Hermione nodded in assent. "I'll just pop up to your room, Ron, and light a fire for you," she continued, "and I could rustle up some sandwiches if you'd like."

Ron was never one to deny a meal, and nodded vigorously again. "Yes, that'd be nice, Mrs. Weasley, thank you," Hermione replied politely.

"You remember how to deactivate the locks, Ron?" Mrs. Weasley continued, and Ron's nod came with an impatient roll of the eyes. "Good. Don't stay out too long," Mrs. Weasley repeated before unlocking the front door and bustling into the house with Hermione's trunk.

"Finally," Ron sighed with irritation.

"What's up?" Hermione got straight to the point; she was rather cold since she only had a jacket on while Ron had cloak, scarf, gloves, and a hat.

"Listen," Ron glanced almost nervously over at the dilapidated house before continuing. "What are we going to do about Harry?"

"Well, we're going to talk to him, of course," Hermione answered frankly, "whether he wants to or not."

"Now?" Ron asked anxiously, "I don't know if he's ready, Hermione..."

"Look," Hermione broke in, "I gave up my holiday to come here and sort things out, and I want to do it as soon as possible. So you're going to get Ginny..."

"Why Ginny?" Ron interrupted. "She's not involved!"

Hermione knew that whether Ginny was involved or not, it wouldn't really matter to Ron; he wouldn't like his baby sister involved in anything that had to do with Voldemort. "But she is, Ron," Hermione pointed out. "She's actually been possessed by Voldemort, she can tell Harry what it's like, and we can see if her experience is similar to Harry's, which I'm sure it isn't."

"Really?" Ron asked in a small voice.

"Is that what's bothering you," Hermione realized with a start. "Ron, the idea that Voldemort possessed Harry is absurd. It was a vision, that's all. Harry didn't leave the dormitory that night, did he?" Ron shook his head. "Then Harry couldn't have done anything to your dad."

"Yeah, I know it was stupid," Ron said after a long pause. He tilted his head back to stare up at the gray London sky. "I reckon I don't know much about anything anymore," he admitted to the clouds. Hermione stared up at him, blinking snowflakes out of her eyes. His voice sounded so distant, as though he didn't realize that he was speaking out loud. Hermione wished she had the courage to wrap her arms around Ron and tell him that everything was going to be okay, but could only manage to touch his forearm gently. Maybe she should have been sorted into Ravenclaw. Ron glanced down at her hand before emitting a short laugh. "Not that I knew much in the first place."

"Don't be silly," Hermione said quietly. "You know loads of things."

Ron looked like he wanted to argue with her, but for the first time in his life, he thought before speaking, and realized that he didn't want to get into a row with Hermione. Not now. In a couple hours, sure, but not now.

"So you're going to find Ginny," Hermione continued, "and I'll track Harry down, and we'll meet up in your room and have a good chat, all right?"

"Yeah," Ron jammed his hands awkwardly into his pockets, unsure how to express what he was currently thinking as he looked down at Hermione's earnest, hopeful eyes, unsure if he even should voice his thoughts out loud.

"Well, let's get going," Hermione said briskly as she started off towards the door.

"Hermione?"

Hermione turned and waited expectantly. "Yes, Ron?"

"I--I-I just--thank you," Ron finally got out. "For coming I mean." Once he started speaking, the words came tumbling out much easier. "I couldn't do this without you."

All concepts of Hermione's brilliant "plan" to get over Ron Weasley flew out of head along with any guilt she had about ditching her parents and Viktor. She felt her cheeks turn pink despite the bitter cold, and she was certain that the snowflakes that had been clinging to her eyelashes melted due to the surge of heat rushing to her face. Oh, God, Ron, why do you have to say things like that and then expect me to believe that we're just friends.

"Well, you-you're welcome, Ron," Hermione managed to get out without throwing her arms around him. Despite the danger, she met his blue eyes dead on. "And believe me, there's no place I'd rather be for the holidays than with you...and Harry," she added. Chicken, she chided internally; you really should be in Ravenclaw.

Ron's wide, lopsided grin that she adored so spread across his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she returned with a smile.

"You'd rather be here than skiing? You told me you loved to ski."

Well, first of all, Ron, I only told you I loved to ski because you laughed so much, which made me laugh too. And second of all, even if I did love skiing, I love you more.

"Ron," Hermione said patiently, "I didn't have to come spend Christmas with you, did I?"

"No," Ron conceded, the much adored grin still on his face, "I reckon not."

Okay, Hermione thought as she locked eyes with Ron once again, we need to get inside this house before I do or say anything really stupid.

"Well, we better get in," Hermione said abruptly.

"Right," Ron pulled his wand out and waved it with a flourish over the front door.

Nothing happened. Ron tried again, but to no avail.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You forgot how to open the door, didn't you?"

"No," Ron lied very poorly, waving his wand frantically.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded.

"No, no, wait, I know!" Ron jabbed his wand so it struck the doorbell. He flashed her a smirk eerily similar to Fred and George's. "See, the door will open in just a minute."

Hermione didn't have to lecture Ron for his irresponsibility and forgetfulness; Mrs. Weasley had just opened the door and was doing a bang-up job for her. Hermione slipped in around her best friend and his mother and spotted Ginny hovering anxiously in the foyer. Her eyes widened in relief when she saw Hermione, and she darted over to her friend's side.

"Hermione, you've got to go talk to Harry, he won't speak a word to anyone..."

"I know, Ginny," Hermione said quickly. "Ron told me everything. Do you have any idea where he is?"

"Yeah," Ginny jerked her thumb towards the stairs. "He's up in the room where Sirius keeps Buckbeak."

Hermione smiled slightly as she remembered how she had found Ron in the very same room the last night she was here. Great minds sulk alike. "All right, Ginny, I'll go get him and we'll meet you in Ron's room. Ron will fill you in."

Ginny nodded, looking infinitely relieved. "Thanks a million, Hermione."

Hermione nodded with a smile. "I'll be back." She hurried up the stairs two at a time and flew down the hall until she found the closed door that barred Buckbeak's room. In case Harry had dozed off or something, she pounded rather hard on the door. He also needed to know that she wasn't going to just walk away if he chose not to answer. "I know you're in there," she called through the door. "Will you please come out? I want to talk to you."

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked as he opened the door. He was paler than all of the Weasleys; he was taking the news even worse than they were, just as she feared. "I thought you were skiing with your mum and dad."

"Well, to tell the truth, skiing's not really my thing," said Hermione, leaning forward conspiratorially. "So I've come for Christmas. But don't tell Ron that, I told him it's really good because he kept laughing so much. Anyway, Mum and Dad are a bit disappointed, but I've told them that everyone who's serious about the exams is staying at Hogwarts to study. They want me to do well, they'll understand. Anyway, let's go to your bedroom, Ron's mum's lit a fire in there and she's sent up sandwiches."

Harry agreed to come without a fight, much to Hermione's relief, and the conversation that occurred in Ron's room went smoother than expected; Harry's temper had flared only momentarily before Ginny had swiftly put him in his place. At least Ginny wasn't afraid to speak up when Harry acted like a git.

But the point is, that Hermione was so relieved to get Harry sorted out and had such a good time with at dinner that evening that it wasn't until much, much later that a new disturbing thought popped to the forefront of her mind. She had been remembering the conversation she had with Ron out in the snow with a wistful smile on her face when it hit her. The severity of the thought made her sit up bolt right in bed despite the late hour, her hand pressed against her now rapidly beating heart.

Did she really love Ron Weasley?