Red Tide Rising

The events over Christmas had changed the dynamic at Hogwarts immediately. What had at one time seemed a conflict far off, barely concerning the students safe at Hogwarts, now, at the end of January, seemed to involve them directly. Whatever activities they had pursued for fun, like Exploding Snap or Gobstones, now took second place behind Dueling Club and schoolwork. Anything that wasn't seen as advancing their ability to fight and defend themselves was seen as a waste of time. The only things to avoid this fate were Quidditch, naturally, and the Hogwarts Hornblower, which was more popular than ever.

The students themselves had made these choices, and it was painful for the professor's to see children snub fun for work and responsibility. It hit Briar particularly hard, since she had spent most of her childhood indoors and studying. But they all seemed to want this, so she couldn't say anything. The worst part were the rumours that this student or that one was a supporter of the Dark Lord. Quite often, Briar knew, the rumours were correct. Several of the students attending her classes would use what they learned against her and her cause. It really hurt; when she'd taken the job, she hadn't thought she'd be teaching the enemy.

And what she was teaching them wasn't easy, either. For most years she had finished the curriculum before Christmas break, and was now working with them on the next years work. Some students were flagging behind, but she tried her best to push them along without shorting the others in her class. Some students simply weren't ready to move on- what Hogwarts needed was more teachers.

Briar had expanded the Dueling Club to four days a week to answer the huge numbers of students who began attending. The Ambushes picked up speed and were becoming highly planned and well-executed operations. They were also rarely successful, due to the vigilance and preparedness of the students; only last week, an entire team had been uncovered when they tried to attack Potter and Longbottom who countered their attack with such brutality Briar had actually given them detentions. She'd also awarded them points because the level and efficiency of the curses and spells they had used was amazing.

The general attitude within the school was of a panicked calm- no one caused trouble, because no one had the time. Most of the students cooperated with each other as best they could, but several students, like Hibernius Crow or Pansy Parkinson, were avoided by everyone who didn't absolutely need to speak with them. The kids had their own code to signal which students could be trusted and which couldn't; it was amazing how quickly the students caught on. It seemed that the students might actually be prepared for the future, and the outside world was calming down; three or four attacks a week, few injuries, no deaths. It seemed like business as usual. Briar knew better, she knew nothing was ever as placid as it seemed. If a situation seemed simple, it would be difficult; if a situation seemed difficult, it would be impossible. And heaven forbid a situation seem impossible, because it usually was worse.

Even with all the cooperation amongst the students, things seemed off around some of them. Morag and Draco had broken up over Christmas, and Morag had immediately begun to date Rufus Ratstamper, another Slytherin sixth-year. Draco had begun to hang around with Harry, Ron and Hermione as much as he could without it seeming like he was trying. Hermione seemed to have recuperated over the holidays and her work was reflecting that, both in classes and in her efforts to translate scrolls of Ancient Runes.

Harry and Ginny were dating- it was cute to watch Harry mastermind a way to sit next to her at meals, something that before he would have done without thinking, and without blushing. It was even more amusing to watch Harry be yanked into an empty classroom or broom closet by a pale, freckly arm, and appear later untidily tidied. Briar nearly felt she should warn the boy about the- ahem- habits of the Weasley family, but being friends with Ron and the twins, she assumed he was as prepared as he'd ever be.

The Weasley clan seemed to approve of the relationship at the very least. It had been difficult to keep Molly from throwing another party after she was told the two were dating; Hermione and Charlie had finally convinced her it wasn't the way to usher in a 'tender, blossoming' relationship. Briar's suggestion of a box of condoms and a stern lecture to Harry on the art of foreplay had earned her the cold shoulder from Charlie for the rest of the holidays and earned Harry the hawkeyed glare of Charlie anytime he was in the same room as 'sweet Ginny'.

Ron was working harder than ever to master Divination; he seemed to feel the Christmas attacks were his fault and he didn't want another repeat. He was working himself to hard, though, and he had snapped in the middle of January, destroying a Hufflepuff seventh-year in a brawl over the affections of Susan Bones. Ms. Bones had made off with the Hufflepuff, horrified at Weasley's behaviour.

Maybe it was the cynic in her, but she didn't trust any of these kids. There was something off with all of them, like they were quietly hiding something that could wreak havoc. And with that lot, she wouldn't be surprised if they were, and it did. They were all, she knew, very important to the outcome of this War. She may decide to find out what it was they were up to, and heaven help them when she did.

******

Draco rolled his head around, relieving the stiffness that barricaded his neck. He wrenched his head to one shoulder, than the other, and turned it either way with the palm of his hand. Satisfying cracks came, and he smiled. When Hermione gave a huff of disgust he laughed outright.

"Stuff it, Malfoy," came her reply.

Rising, Draco paced around the Press Room rereading his article on government. So much research, so much work, so much revision on an article of only five thousand words. Hermione would print it in installments, since the finished product was much longer than anticipated.

It had taken him three weeks to finish the article, originally a survey of the Ministry of Magic and how effective it was. The final product was what Hermione called 'a call for reform'; Draco Malfoy was endorsing a radical shift in government, a move towards democracy. He had done the research, as frustrating as it had been (Wizards were not much interested in Muggle government), and he honestly believed that only democracy could make society strong enough to withstand the threat of the Dark Forces.

Plus, democratic governments usually meant unbridled capitalism, which Draco needed to continue his work recouping his family fortune. As well, it would make it much easier to become Minister for Magic, a dream he hadn't completely let go of yet. Better yet, with democracy, he didn't need to be a part of the Ministry to become Minister, he could run for the position as an 'honest' businessman. Not that democracy wasn't a spiffing idea.

In fact, democracy was an excellent idea. Draco just wished he could see it as excellent in a completely pure way. Within a democracy, each member elected had the same weight. However, certain members who belonged to the party who received the most votes would run departments. This meant that instead of one Minister for Magic (who was very expensive to bribe- er, influence), there would be several different people, each in charge of a specific department, and they reported to the Prime Minister, who led the government, but could only delay legislation's presentation. It was an excellent system.

It would be easier- and cheaper- to influence the person in charge of the Department of Experimental Charms than it was to influence the person who was in charge of every department. And, in the end, if the Minister for Experimental Charms would not be influenced, you could influence your own representative to put forth the legislation you wanted. Then you just had to convince the other members of Parliament to agree with you. Small bribes- contributions, pardon- would suffice to those you could not persuade.

Still, Draco was angry with himself over how cynical he was being. He shouldn't be trying to push the community into a new form of government- even if it was the strongest- just so he could benefit personally. Draco had tried very hard to support the Ministry for pure reasons, but he didn't see how that was even possible. Besides, he didn't agree with the Ministry, he was merely supporting Dumbledore. Not for a moment did he see siding with Dumbledore as supporting the Ministry, but the vast majority of people would not see the difference. The vast majority of people believed Fudge had refused to believe that the Dark Lord had returned because he had no actual proof. The vast majority of people were stupid and easily fooled. And, unlike Dumbledore and Potter and his friends, Draco didn't care about the vast majority of people.

Draco cared about himself and his sister and a few of his friends. He cared about money and prestige and living a comfortable life. What did he care about the vast majority of people who would listen to what ever he put in his article and take it as the gospel truth as long as it had the voice of authority to it. The vast majority of people would believe anything if they wanted to- look at Umbridge, who had believed Granger when she'd said Dumbledore had been creating a weapon. How stupid the vast majority of people were!

It made it easy, though, and using their own stupidity, Draco planned to help himself to the vast majorities pocketbook, while at the same time giving them the freedom to chose for themselves what they wanted. So long as they were happy, secure and prosperous- as he intended them to be- they wouldn't think twice about the price of a new cauldron or whether or not to buy Tommy a new broom for Christmas- two of the many fine products Malfoy Industries produced.

It was just weird that no matter how hard he tried to convince himself of his cynicism, and how proud of the bastard he was becoming he was, he couldn't help thinking of how much his ideas would help everybody. He might not like Mudbloods, Half-Bloods and Half-Breeds, but he was willing to work with them if he should need to. He might not like people in general, even Purebloods- most were intolerable bores- but he could see their side in things. The point was he was beginning to be a bleeding heart. He may have no thoughts on starving children, sick dogs or homeless people, but that didn't mean he didn't care about average people. Unless starving children and homeless people with sick dogs were average people- he wasn't sure, as he'd never spent much time with anyone he considered 'average'.

But none of that mattered! He was going to make a fortune, and he was going to be happy and envied and no one would ever think of him as Lucius's son; Lucius would be known as the father of Draco Malfoy!

Every word he wrote and spoke was important now. He couldn't screw up in public ever again- he could start people talking about reform through the Hornblower, but sooner or later, they would need to be led. Draco wouldn't allow anything to stop this. Indeed, why should it be stopped? Technically, every word he had written was true, and he was excited because democracy was an exciting idea. Democracy would strengthen society and allow it to change with the times. Under democracy, people would be free and equal (even the Malfoy's) and able to make their own destiny.

And Draco would be rich, because Draco was brilliant- if everyone were equal, everyone would have to accept that he was better than them, not because he was a Malfoy, but because he was smarter and more creative and more ruthless than them. That excited him too. It was a lot of work and it would take a lot of time- just like this article.

To cover his editorial space, he had written fluff pieces; an article on how important Quidditch was to society, and another on the importance of checking antidotes with a Healer. Both pieces had garnered generous donations from the Quidditch League and the Healers' Guild. Both had been well received. But they had been fluff. This article, this was the real deal.

"Hermione," Draco said in a near whisper. The Press Room was nearly empty, just the two of them remaining. The silence seemed golden to Draco. It felt smug. "Hermione, my article is done."

Hermione looked up, her eyes round in surprise. "I was beginning to think you'd never finish. Hand it here," she demanded, her hand thrust out greedily.

Draco hesitated. "It's perfect, Hermione, trust me. But- be kind, all right? I've found my cause." He gave a small smile and handed his baby over.

She seemed to take forever, the bitch. Her eyes, though he knew she was reading as quickly as always, seemed to drag along the parchment. Her demeanor never changed- steady on there, lads. Maybe Draco cared more about her opinion than he'd thought. Finally, she exhaled.

"Well, what will you do while I'm printing this serial?" she asked, deliberately not commenting on its style, or content, or anything. What was she thinking? He desperately needed to know. But-

"I'll begin writing a continuation. This is only the beginning, Hermione."

"Draco, I'll be honest," she said slowly. "This is excellent, and right on. However, it will not be well received by the adults. Oh," she speed on breezily, "the students will love it, I'm sure- we all want to change the world. But, the adults, the Ministry, Draco, if they acknowledge this at all, it'll only be to discredit it."

Nodding, Draco said, "I know, and I don't care. Hermione, just so long as you don't stop printing it, I'm happy. It's important that people read it. And they will, even if just to shout about me not knowing anything."

"I wouldn't not print it, and I couldn't, anyways. You've done the research! This is more for the Irish Free Press than the Hornblower. You've added footnotes and a bibliography-"

"So people can go and look it up themselves, see what I'm saying is right," Draco said.

"In fact," Hermione continued, ignoring Draco's interruption, "I may send it to the Irish Free Press first. If they publish it, and there's no reason why they shouldn't, it would be legitimized. To discredit it, the Ministry will have to find evidence that you're wrong, that democracy is wrong."

"They'll probably ask Percy," Draco said with a scowl.

"Exactly, and you know the bull dog he can be, if he's threatened."

Draco couldn't think of what to say. His heart was pounding in his throat, as if he'd swallowed it. The Free Press? Hermione, Morag, Blaise, Ron and Neville had all been published in the Irish Free Press. The professors were lapping it up, loving how well the students were doing. "Furthering research and society," Dumbledore had said just a week ago when Neville's paper had been published. It had been on the effect lavender leaves had on the Relaxation Potion, and Neville had been heralded as 'a bright, new Herbologist, ready to further the field with his creativity' by the International Herbology Association.

Morag's paper on Werewolf Legislation had the same reception, and she'd been offered an internship with Tiberius Ogden after graduation. Bad pay, no respect, but the first step to becoming a member of the Wizengamot, something she wanted so desperately she was blinded to any other possible career; she had been so thrilled she had forgotten she didn't like Draco anymore and had actually smiled at him. Ron's research into the accuracy of tarot cards and palmistry had gained him an honorary membership into Society of International Diviners. Blaise and Hermione were nearly monthly fixtures in the journal, and were considered the very best of the Hogwarts crop. The Hornblower had allowed all the pent-up genius of the student body to be harvested. The Hornblower assured recognition within the community.

Draco was hungry for the same recognition, but at the same time he wanted, and needed, the glory to go to the Hornblower. This serial would make the paper necessary reading, he knew. It would force debate and, hopefully, reforms. Reforms were needed now before it was too late (or too far past too late). And the sooner these debates effected change, the sooner Draco could begin his plan to milk the money from the world into the Malfoy coffers. It was a brilliant master plan, if he did say so himself. The Irish Free Press just didn't have a large enough base to get the idea into the public domain, and any debates would be purely academic and devoid of emotion.

Sometimes he wished he could tell Hermione or Morag why he was doing this, but he didn't think for a moment that they would trust him ever again. The good guys never wanted to work with those planning to corrupt their goals.

"Hermione, yes, send it to the Free Press, but publish it in the Hornblower first. You deserve it, I think." He leaned over, and without realizing what he was doing he kissed her full on the lips. Warm, warm lips. And soft. And- and Hermione! His eyes popped open so zealously he was sure they made a sound. Hermione's eyes were closed, softly- like her lips, but he was sure he could rectify that with just the right amount of pressure just there- oh, yes...

An hour later and Draco was in his bed, hands behind his head and a smile on his face. Truly, he was troubled by Hermione and his infatuation with her, but he was far too happy to be bothered with that now. Kissing Hermione had been... who would have thought Hermione could be so soft? Wasn't just her lips and her eyes, but her hair and her skin and- oh, yes... and.

She didn't seem soft. Draco had assumed kissing Hermione would be like kissing know-it-all Granger (and she did know it all)- he thought she'd be demanding and overbearing, not soft. She had sighed, twice; that had to be a good sign.

Not that he cared, really- she was only a girl, after all, and below the notice of Draco, even if she did that thing with her tongue that had made him a little insane. But he didn't care- she was only one girl, after all, and he wouldn't become obsessive about her, even if she had broken away before he could taste anything below the collarbone. She was just a girl, and he had more pressing matters at hand.

Writing that article had been one thing- actually publishing it quite another. The Dark Lord was still encouraging Draco to continue 'ingratiating' himself with Potter and his friends, and he had, but not because he was directed to. It just wasn't as easy as he would have thought to be around them and not like them, at least a little. Ron was really funny, damn him, and Potter was actually a very nice person, the idiot. And I plan on seeing a lot more of Hermione, Draco thought with a grin. Damn it! Out, witch, out! He had more important things to think about!

It didn't help that things within Slytherin House were deteriorating quickly. Those who supported the Dark Lord outnumbered those who did not. Hell, those who supporter the Dark Lord outnumbered those who were undecided, and that was bloody amazing. Pansy, Theodore, Crabbe and Goyle, Millicent, Tracey, Daphne, Tobias- maybe, anyways, he claimed he supported the Dark Lord, but Draco didn't think he really did- nine out of thirteen sixth-year Slytherin's supported the Dark Lord.

Morag, Rufus and Blaise refused to support him, going so far as to camp out in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Common Rooms to protest the sentiments of their Housemates. Professor Snape let them, although they took the brunt of their Housemates fury during classes and fake Ambushes. Yesterday, Crabbe, Goyle and Millicent had lost Slytherin one hundred points and been given a months detention for attacking Rufus and Morag while they walked to Runes.

Nobody had the balls to ask Draco which he supported. Pansy and her group avoided Draco as much as they could, not sure what to make of their former leader. Draco liked that, he could use that to his advantage; if he needed to retreat, he could do it with the least bit of fuss, claiming he was following orders from the Dark Lord himself. He knew none of them were actually Death Eaters, so they wouldn't dare contradict his statement.

But, still, something inside of his mind cried out at him, screaming that he was fooling himself. Something was off, wrong.

*****

Hermione's response to Draco had been quick.

The response to Draco's article was quicker. The day after it was published, The Daily Prophet ran a ministry communiqué disclaiming it, as well as a column by Blenheim Stalk, who supported it. Many people wrote to the Hornblower, and the opinions were split neatly, half were outraged and half were interested. More important than the split of opinion was that the Prophet was treating the article as if it were noteworthy and important.

In timely fashion, the Hornblower seemed filled with mentions of 'the movement for democracy', with nearly every column and editorial mentioning it as if it were a longstanding entity. Harry, who, when he did write n article, usually wrote about Quidditch or Defense, wrote an article about how important democracy was in the Muggle world, and how it stimulated the economy. Hermione wrote about how it could solve inequality by forcing governments to court support from minorities. Morag wrote that it was a much more natural form of government than the 'autocracy' of the Wizarding world. Blaise wrote how British Wizarding society had always been a leader in governmental reforms and advancements but was now falling behind others, like the North and South American Ministries.

It was all done in a way to make it seem casual, off-hand, as if the contributors had been writing and debating the merits of democracy for years. As Hermione had predicted, Draco was hailed as a hero around Hogwarts, a freedom fighter. Not a single person checked themselves in their adoration; no one paused for a moment and thought, "Wait, Draco Malfoy is a hero? But he's such an ass!"

It was again as Hermione had predicted it. She knew how people worked; she had seen it happen over and over with Harry. It may be purely selfish, but Hermione wanted Draco to be accepted by the students, she didn't want anyone questioning his motives or his stories. It was for the good of the paper and the school.

Ron said something was going to happen at Hogwarts, he either didn't know or wouldn't tell exactly what, but he believed it was important everyone trusted Draco. Hermione didn't question (overly much), she was just pushing it along, knowing that no one in his or her right mind would trust Draco without proof of his change. And if she, Harry and Ron were absolutely convinced, that was enough for most to accept his rehabilitation. Not that she, Harry and Ron were totally convinced; it was just prudent to give him the benefit of the doubt. And if he was going to continue on his little crusade, preaching democracy, equality and acceptance, well- Hermione was really trying to enjoy the free time he provided her.

It was annoying and exciting, really, to see how easy it was to manipulate large numbers of people; you just had to tell them what was true, and they'd believe it. Exciting- but terribly troublesome. If she gained any free time from Draco taking most of her issues from her, she lost it in worrying that he was fooling them all and would twist all this around in a horrible fashion. Or by thinking about The Kiss.

"Ms. Granger?" a voice called from the end of the corridor. Turning, Hermione saw Professor Gryffindor jogging to catch her up. "Hello, Hermione. You missed Dueling Club today."

"Yes, the study chart Ron drew up matching my high and low energies to my study schedule showed that I'd be particularly productive today. So I decided to get all my essays finished. Just now I'm going to study for two tests I have tomorrow."

"Poor thing," the Professor said. "You remind me far too much of myself, except you actually enjoy it, don't you?"

"Yes. Quite a bit."

"That's refreshing, I suppose. However, be warned, Ms. Granger," she continued in a low voice, "that I know Ron's study chart is not what's allowing you to manage as well as you are." Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. Did she know? "Hermione, there are plenty of ways of detecting Time Turners', and I hope we'll be able to discuss them someday when I've the time. You can make it, I'm sure. I'm not concerned or angry, Hermione. I'd just suggest you remember that there are quite a few Professors here at Hogwarts who can sense a Time-Turner, and some don't approve of bending the rules. And one in particular doesn't approve of you."

"What do you mean, Professor? Your not going to tell Professors Dumbledore or McGonagall, are you?" Hermione demanded in a horrified whisper.

"Me, tattle? Not since my brother Chris turned my skin blue for tattling that he'd kissed Sebastian's girlfriend, and that was much more serious than this. Just, for Merlin's Sake, be careful."

"Yes, Professor. Thank-you, Professor." Hermione watched Gryffindor receding form walk down the hall.

She had tried so hard not to use the Time Turner. She hadn't until after Christmas, when finally she realized she couldn't keep up. Once Draco Malfoy shows concern for your well-being, you know you have to do something. She had done other things, like used Ron's chart and prioritized her time, homework over studying, but it still hadn't been enough to get everything done. So, she had started using the Time Turner, but only for a few hours a day, and she used the extra time to sleep. She wasn't using it to study or get ahead or anything, she just wanted to sleep.

Unfortunately, she shouldn't have the Turner at all; she'd stolen it from the Time Room at the Department of Mysteries. At first, it had been to reverse what had happened: the botched mission to the Ministry to 'rescue' Sirius. But she hadn't been able to do it, because the Ministry had finally accepted that Lord Voldemort had returned. She had kept the Time-Turner, not because she thought she'd use it, but because she could hardly have given it back. She had started using it, and now she had to be more careful.

And because she was using it, she'd have to make it up to the Ministry. Mentally, she added another year to the employment she reckoned she owed the Ministry. A year for the first Time-Turner, three years for the destruction of the Department of Mysteries and another for the theft of this Time-Turner. Now, if she didn't break any more rules, she might actually be able to leave the Ministry while she was still young. Sighing, she wondered what the chances of her breaking no more rules actually were.

Maybe I should just round it up to ten years, and be done with it, she mused. Walking towards the Library, she saw Draco coming towards her. With a sharp inhale, her inner monologue took hold: stay calm, not to panic, it will be fine, you can treat him just like before the kiss- The Kiss. What a kiss.

"Draco, congratulations on your article," she said with just enough cheer in her voice that she seemed perfectly balanced, not a bit insane. And certainly not as if her palms her shining with sweat because he was smiling and she was remembering what else those lips managed to do.

Sterilize, girl! Running water, running water, running wat- oh, he's saying something.

"Thank-you, Hermione. I was wondering if I could speak with you?" Draco asked. That's a bit too sterilized. Hey!- he enjoyed the kiss, too. He moaned... that was good, wasn't it?

"Absolutely. I'm just on my way to study, now, but I'll be in the Press Room tomorrow," she said. Very good. Very steady. Normal Hermione makes a strong comeback. Lift your chin, lick those lips, cock that brow, pout the lips, and push your chest out, Granger! Obeying these commands as her inner monologue uttered them, she didn't realize what she was doing until Draco swallowed- nice Adam's Apple- and stared at her chest.

"Now," he grunted and grasping her arm he wheeled her toward a small storeroom used by Madam Pince to store extra textbooks. Yanking the door open, Draco pushed her into the dark room and closed the door behind them. His lips attacked her throat.

"What the hell!" a husky, male voice cried, the owners face unrecognizable because of the lack of light. Hermione and Draco jumped apart. "Get out!" the voice shouted.

"Focus!" demanded a dry, whispy voice, which Hermione knew very well.

"Luna?" Hermione cried.

"Hermione?" came the boy's voice again.

"Weasley?" Draco demanded.

"Malfoy? What the hell is going on?" roared Ron. A rustling came from the other side of the small room, followed by the jingle of a belt clasp. "Lumos!" Ron had his wand high above his head, and he glowered straight at Draco. "As I said, what the hell is going on?"

Luna was unconcernedly buttoning her blouse. Her hair was a limp mess and her eyes were watching the scene in the room with marginal interest.

"Nothing, Ron. I just needed to speak with Draco," Hermione said.

"So you just chose this room by accident?" Ron demanded. "Hermione, I'm trying to work here!"

"So, Weasley," Draco began with a rude grin, "dipping your quill into the fifth-year inkpot?"

Hermione gasped at that and Ron looked ready to launch himself at Draco -two fights in two weeks would be bad- when Luna spoke.

"Well, he was about to," she said. She was pulling her skirt back to rights. "You should really knock first," she continued as she opened the door and left, closing it behind her. The three remaining in the room stared after her.

Ron wheeled back to Hermione and Draco, an angry look burning in his eyes. " So..."

"Er- we should be going anyways, Ron. Curfew, and all," Hermione said in a small voice.

"What do I care about curfew, Hermione?"

"Weasley, shut up. Can't you find a better place for a shag then an old store room? I mean, there's not even a proper place to lay it off," Draco said. He had a point: knee-tremblers only.

With an angry snarl, Ron manhandled Draco out of the room and slammed the door on him. Leaning against it firmly, Ron smiled when Draco's kicks and shoves did nothing to move the door.

"Reckon I outweigh him by about forty pounds, don't you?" Ron asked. His eyes slitted and took Hermione in, and she felt herself about to blush. "Hermione, I held my tongue when you dated Krum, but I can't allow this to continue."

Hermione's mouth dropped. "Excuse me?"

"Hermione, you're an attractive girl. The lads are all over you, and rightly so," Ron said. "But, blokes like Malfoy, they only want one thing from a girl."

"How do you know what boys like Malfoy want from me?" Hermione demanded. Don't curse him. Don't curse him- emasculate him!

Ron gave a small smile. "Because I am boys like Malfoy. No, Hermione, listen to me! You can't go around sneaking into cupboards with any lad that'll give you a passing eye-up. You need to hold your ground, otherwise you'll earn yourself a reputation."

"A reputation," Hermione repeated, nodding her head. "A reputation?" she demanded.

"Hermione, relax. No one thinks you're a slag-"

"Stop right there, Ronald Weasley! No one thinks I'm a slag because I'm not a slag, and if I decide to go into a hundred cupboards with a hundred different boys, that's none of anyone's concern but mine and the lad I'm with! And it certainly isn't any of yours, certainly not! You go about 'dipping your quill' with impunity because you're a male, while I can't even see a lad without you thinking you've something to say about it?"

"Hermione, chill!" Ron called. "I just mean-"

"You just mean that I'm to be a prissy little girl and live by someone else's rules? Your rules, perhaps, Ron? Should I lock my belt and live only through my mind, or vicariously through yours and Harry's sex life?"

"Harry hasn't a sex life!" Ron shouted in a very horrified sticking-my-fingers-in-my-ears-will-make-it-not-so way. "And neither have you!"

"Yes, I have, Ron. And I had mine before you had yours!" Hermione shouted as she pushed him away from the door. Opening it, she turned back to Ron. "And for your information, Harry is about to get a sex life, if Ginny's got anything to say about it!"