Red Tide Rising

After the first week of staying with the Weasley's, Harry was ready for the weekend. Every morning at six, he woke with Ron, who liked to go running now. Mr. Fawcett, who also lived in Ottery St. Catchpole and was an Auror, began to run with them in the mornings, and Harry suspected that he was there to protect him and Ron should Death Eaters burst from the foliage. He couldn't fathom why such a portly man would want to go jogging; Mr. Weasley told them that Fawcett had to get back into shape or lose his field position to a younger, fitter Auror. Ron claimed he needed to run, not only for Quidditch, but also so he put muscle on his frame. "Look, mate, I've grown three inches in a month. I'm not going back to school a skeleton!" After the run, Ron would do other exercises, and then eat as much as he could (as usual).

After breakfast, the entire family Flooed to Grimmauld Place, Gringotts, or the Ministry and Flooed back for dinner. At Grimmauld Place, Harry practiced with Tonks or Professor McGonagall, learning new techniques to use his gift. Tonks made it fun with games and rhymes and such, while McGonagall was just as strict as she usually was in a class of thirty. Ron studied different methods of Divination with Firenze, and often exploded into the room Harry was working, raging about something he'd seen. "I'm no good at this, I swear. I can't see a bloody thing! Or if I do see something, it's useless." Firenze would always calm him down and promise him it was normal for new Seers to feel inadequate (Ron refused to admit he felt inadequate). Hermione told Ron that if he hadn't lost his marbles in the Ministry of Magic, he wouldn't be a Seer now; when Ron reminded Hermione he'd been hit with a Hilaritus Curse, she would simply roll her eyes, and mutter "Sure, Ron."

Hermione was usually too busy to be bothered with them, anyways. The parchments that she was translating, although Harry didn't fully understand, had something to do with the Killing Curse. Apparently, the counter had been well known in the Middle Ages; so well known in fact, no one had bothered to write it down. Now, Harry assumed, Hermione and Bill were trying to decode transcripts to figure the counter out. But that was only a guess, as he rarely saw Hermione, and Bill was always out at night with Fle-ur, as Ginny and the twins teased. That Hermione bothered to breath was odd; that she actually took time out of her schedule to attend the Cannons games was nearly scary.

Sometimes Mrs. Weasley declared that they all needed some fresh air and sunshine, and she'd walk with them to Diagon Alley, where they were inevitably joined by some of the Weasley's friends, who were inevitably in some Department of the Ministry that dealt with defense. They'd go to Fortesque's and have ice creams, and if Ron, Harry or Hermione had to use the washroom or the like, an adult would always have to as well. The friends were beginning to feel claustrophobic, but Hermione kept reminding the boys it was all for their safety. "Well, she doesn't have to stand at a urinal with Waterman. I swear he's not checking for enemies when he looks around," Ron would say.

Ron had asked Padma Patil to go to the Chudley game with him, and she'd actually blushed before saying yes. It seemed she had totally forgiven him for ignoring her at the Yule Ball. "Yeah, life isn't bad, is it?" Ron asked as they watched girls pass by. He'd become quite the flirt, Harry was appalled to see; girls were always fluttering around and giggling at him.

That Saturday night, as they got ready for the game, Ron was taking a lot of time with his hair. "Ron, come on, stop preening!" he'd laughed. Ron had already changed his robes twice, trying to find his least tatty set; he'd even considered his dress robes, but nixed that, in case Padma wasn't dressing up.

"Shove off, Harry. One must look ones best when meeting an attractive member of the opposite sex," Ron returned, pulling one more hair into place. "There, perfect." Harry just resisted the temptation to muss it all up, but decided they had to hurry. The Cannons were playing Puddlemere United, Oliver Wood's team, and Oliver had just been pushed up to first squad.

"Why's Krum playing for the Cannons, anyway?" Harry asked Ron as they made their way down stairs. "I mean, they have professional Quidditch teams in Bulgaria, right?"

"Yeah, they do," answered Ron, "but Krum told Witch Weekly he likes the underdogs, and- Hermione hated this bit- he wanted to be closer to his Hermy-own-knee."

"I heard that," Hermione's voice called from the kitchen.

"You loved it!" Ron teased. "Floating on air for a week, you were." Hermione scowled.

They Flooed to a bookshop in Chudley, and walked to the Stadium from there. It could have been a football stadium, except for the goal areas, and that the good seats were high in the air instead of at the pitch. There were about a thousand people there, and they were all wearing the colours of their team. The roar of people talking and cheering the reserve teams, arguing and laughing, nearly deafened Harry, but it was just as exciting as the Quidditch World Cup.

Viktor had managed them good seats, and after collecting Padma and Parvati, who had come along with her sister, they made their way to the top stand. Sitting, watching the reserve teams, Harry wondered if he was good enough to play Quidditch professionally. Glancing at Ron, he knew his friend was wondering the same thing.

"Good thing we have our careers mapped out, eh?" Ron said with a regretful tone.

"Yes, good thing," Harry replied.

The game was exciting and fast. Chudley, Ron's team, favoured strong offense, their Chasers doing a good job against Oliver Wood, who was much better than Harry remembered, but obviously a rookie. Unfortunately for the Cannons, Oliver was still much better than their Keeper, who let in seven goals in the first hour. By the end of the second hour of play, Puddlemere led 110-70. Shortly after the third hour, Krum caught the snitch in a brilliant spot of flying, and the game ended with a Chudley victory.

"Fourth straight victory!" Ron cheered as they rushed the field. "They may give Tutshill a run this year!"

The field was crowded with fans, all shouting with joy at a home team win. Fighting their way through the crowd, they finally managed to a few feet from Krum, who was busy signing autographs. "Hermy-own-knee!" he called, waving her closer so the crowd would let them pass. He gave her a quick kiss before another quill and parchment was shoved under his face. "Harry, Ron, it is good to see you again," the Bulgarian said as he scribbled his name on the parchment.

"Top job, Viktor," Ron said heartily, slapping him hard on the back. Krum nearly lost his balance and gave Ron a quick sharp look. "This is mad though, and we need to see Oliver. Do you want to meet us in town once you're ready?"

"Yes, that is good. I vill see you later, at the pub, Hermy-own-knee? Yes?" he repeated as he gave Hermione another quick kiss. Hermione nodded and he nodded back and disappeared into the crowd.

"Bit odd, isn't he?" Parvati giggled. "But good on you, Mione, for hanging on to him. He's famous, and rich, even if he's not very handsome."

"That's not very nice, Parvati," Padma scolded. Ron slipped his arm around her, trying to be casual about it, and she smiled before she continued. "You forget that Viktor was a Tri-Wizard Champion as well. He must be very clever."

"Oh, he is!" Hermione cried, and began to rhapsodize on how brilliant Viktor really was. The group began to move toward the Puddlemere change rooms, hoping to see Oliver Wood before he left. "But then, he said-"

CLICK!

A huge bright flash went of in their eyes, and they let out pained groans. "Harry! Harry Potter! Lucinda Hawksley, Witch's Weekly. Having a good summer, Harry? One of these girls your girlfriend, hmm?"

"Go away!" Hermione and Ron shouted at the same time, both lifting their hands and shielding Harry from the camera that had been raised again.

"Ms. Granger, any comment on yours and Viktor Krum's relationship?"

"Yes! It's none of your business! Go away!" she repeated angrily.

"Now then, I've a responsibility to my readers to-" Lucinda was cut off.

"Lucy, I believe they asked you to leave them alone." It was Rita Skeeter, looking much more prosperous then she had on Valentine's Day. "Hello, children. Having a good vacation, Hermione?" It seemed Rita liked Hermione much more now that she had her job back thanks to her. It probably didn't hurt that Lucinda and Rita were in a publication war; Lucinda had picked Rita's column up after she'd been let go. Hermione nodded. "Run along, then. I'll have a chat with Ms. Hawksley about the proper way to treat an interview subject," she said with a wink and a grin.

Finally arriving at the Puddlemere change rooms, they were told Oliver had just left. "Stupid reporter!" Hermione growled. They made their way to the pub they were to meet Krum at, and waited. They had dinner there, Krum was in good spirits, talking animatedly with Ron about Chudley's chance for a title.

"If not this year, than next," Ron said cheerfully. Padma finally announced that she and Parvati had to leave, and Ron rose to stick his head in after them, "To make sure you get in alright."

When Ron returned from the bookshop, he had a dopey look on his face. "They got home just fine," he said, and blushed when Hermione pointed out his hair was quite messy. "Let's go, then?" asked Ron, quick to change the subject.

Harry reached for his jumper, as it was still cold at night, but Hermione shook her head. "Er- I'm staying out a bit later, with Viktor." Harry and Ron shot anxious looks at each other, both frozen in the act of pulling wool over their eyes.

"Stay out later, Hermione?" asked Ron. "But it's already eleven o'clock, and Mum will be worried."

"Not if you tell her I'll be in on my own, Ron," Hermione replied, a bit tense.

Ron shot Harry another look, and Harry shrugged. He didn't like the idea of Hermione staying out alone with Viktor, either, but if it's what Hermione wanted to do, he and Ron certainly couldn't stop her. On the other hand, Harry wasn't in the mood for the upcoming rant Ron would deliver on Viktor, and what exactly Hermione saw in him.

"Suit yourself, then," Ron said angrily. "I'll tell Mum you'll be along, by the by. She'll be angry, mind, probably take it out of my hide for leaving you, but if that's how you want it-" Ron ranted.

"Yes, that's fine. Good night," Hermione said breezily.

Ron raved at Harry on the Knights' Bus. "She's mad, staying out with him! You know what he'll think, don't you? He'll think that she's going to- well," he huffed, "she'd better not! And he'd better not think it, either, or I'll kill him!"

Harry nearly grinned. "Ron, isn't one sister enough for you?"

"What?" Ron asked. He glared. "I'm not trying to protect Hermione, Harry. I just don't think she understands about Krum! He only wants one thing, and he's too old for her, besides."

"How do you know he only wants one thing? We stay up with her all the time, and we don't want that."

"Yes, well, we've known Hermione since forever, haven't we?" Ron said simply as they stepped off the Knight Bus and into the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley was indeed waiting up.

"How was the game?" she asked. "Where's Hermione?"

"The game was fine, Mum," Ron said. "Hermione decided to stay out later with Viktor, even after I told her you'd be angry."

"Angry?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "Ron, you have to stop all this nonsense! Hermione can look after herself, you know, and Viktor is such a nice boy. Did she say what they were going to do?" she called to their backs as they climbed the stairs.

"They're going to shag each other to death, Mum," returned Ron.

"What?" Mrs. Weasley gasped.

"Nothing, Mum, they didn't say what they were up too."

The next morning, Hermione didn't wake until nearly eleven. Yawning, she padded into the kitchen, books and parchment under her arm.

Ron had woken Harry at five that morning for their jog, and when they'd left, Hermione had not been in her bed (Ron had forced Harry to crept into the girls room and check. Ginny kicks the bedclothes off at night, and wears boys' pajama bottoms. Not that he was looking).

"Late night, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Hmm, not especially," she lied.

"What did you do?" asked Harry.

"Nothing, really. Home by one, nothing to worry about," she lied.

"Liar," Ron growled under his breath, as he stood to leave the kitchen. "I'll be working with the Crystal Ball, Harry, so if you need anything from the room, come get it now." Ron locked himself in the bedroom all day, and came out for dinner in a rancid mood. He snarled at anyone stupid enough to so much as glance at him, but everyone knew Ron well enough not to be bothered by it.

"Good job," Tonks said, after he finally managed to pass every test she could throw at him. It was nearing the end of August and Grimmauld Place was broiling under the second straight summer of drought. While he wasn't really good at being a Metamorphmagus, Tonks assured him all he needed now was practice. "I'd say you've got this figured dead. Didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would, but then, Dumbledore said you were a talent."

"You've seen Dumbledore?" asked Harry.

"Yes. Now, Harry-" Tonks began, but broke off as Mrs. Black's portrait began to scream.

"UNGRATEFUL GRYFFINDOR WHORE! TRAITOR! WHY DO YOU COME HERE? HERE! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME-" Suddenly, Mrs. Black's tirade ended. Harry, curious as to who had managed to shut the portrait up began to head for the door.

"No, Harry. Stay in here for a few more minutes. I have to go," Tonks said excitedly after checking her watch. "Just stay in here!" she repeated as she ran out the door and down the stairs.

As soon as her footsteps had fallen into the foyer, Harry rushed to the door, anxious that he catch a glimpse of the visitor, but just as he rounded the banister the front door closed with a bang. Harry was sure he heard the tinkling of female laughter.

Summer seemed to slip past, a blur of Quidditch matches, dates, Quidditch practices in the paddock, workouts, late nights at the Burrow and long days at Grimmauld Place. While Hermione had been dating Viktor steadily all summer, Harry had walked in on Ron and her a week before September. The two had been embarrassed, swore that it wasn't anything, and oddly, Harry thought, the tension between them wasn't nearly as thick as before.

Boarding the Hogwarts Express on September 1^st, Harry felt a sick feeling in his stomach. He had asked Ron the night before if this year be better than the last few semesters. Ron wouldn't answer, saying he didn't know, but Harry felt he was lying. He didn't know what was going to happen, but something would. Something always happened, and it was getting worse every year. After last June, Harry couldn't imagine what could be worse, which he assumed explained why Ron was so quiet on the subject.

"Well, another summer over," Hermione said cheerfully as she flopped onto the bench in their compartment. She ignored Ron's dirty look and opened the window. "Goodbye, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley. Have a nice autumn."

"We will, Hermione," Mr. Weasley returned as the chain began to chug out of the station. "Don't forget to write!"

"Why do they always say that?" Ron asked. "It isn't as if, suddenly and unexpectedly, we'll forget we haven't any parents. I suppose they think we'll go heathen at Hogwarts, and they can prevent it by telling us to write home. Nice, civilized Burrow, with the twins, the ghouls and the surprisingly nasty gnomes."

The weather was perfect for a train ride. Hermione and Ron had left to attend the prefects' meeting with Ginny, but the other sixth-year Gryffindors found their way to the compartment. A few minutes before they pulled into Hogsmeade station, the prefects returned and the compartment got very noisy.

"Come on, Mudblood," a voice drawled from the doorway. "Can't you keep this unwashed mob quiet?"

"Go to hell, Malfoy. Go to bloody hell. That might warm you up," Harry shot back. He was rising to throw Malfoy out bodily when Ron pushed him back into his seat.

"Get out, Malfoy," Ron warned. With a flick of his wrist, the door slid closed. Ron, realizing that everyone was looking at him oddly, cracked a grin. "Can't have Harry getting a detention before school even starts, now can we?" The 'unwashed mob' returned to its previous volume when the train halted, and an owl flew into the compartment.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"A letter from Snape. You and I are to report to him directly from the station. He does not seem happy."

The Sorting Hat was receiving a huge round of applause when Harry and Hermione finally entered the Great Hall.

"Appleton, Maureen!" McGonagall called. Harry and Hermione slipped in beside Ron and Neville.

"What was that about?" Ron asked, but Hermione shook her head.

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Snape's a jerk. Tried to get Harry to admit to cheating on his Potions assignment."

"Benton, Neill!"

"But you didn't, did you, Harry?" Neville asked.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Wild cheering momentarily stopped the conversation. Benton made his way cheerfully towards the Gryffindor table.

"No. I brewed them all on one burner on a Muggle stove! I nearly had to use the microwave," Harry said.

"The what?"

"Never mind. Anyways, he just wanted to ask some questions about how I brewed them." He turned away to look at the new first-years. There were a lot of them, nearly twice the number of six years. Harry supposed after Voldemort vanished, parents felt safe to have children.

"Granger, Riothamus!"

"Hey, Hermione, there's your-" Ron began.

"SLYTHERIN!"

"-Cousin?" he finished lamely. All eyes in the Hall flicked at Hermione, who graciously sunk as low into her seat as possible.