The Last Time

Chapter 11

"Ha! I did it!" yelled Hermione. "Look!" She pointed to the dummy that she'd just knocked out, laying on the floor of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. "I did it!"

Ron sent his dummy flying to the floor with a quick strike and beamed at her. "Good job, Hermione!"

"Yes, Miss Granger, excellent work," said Professor Tenby, coming over to her. "You've improved a great deal these last few weeks. Ten points to Gryffindor."

"Thank you, Professor," said Hermione. Maybe it will help make up for the essay I failed for Potions yesterday, she thought glumly.

She'd written a meticulously researched essay on how to develop antidotes to unknown potions, a whole roll of parchment longer than Snape had asked for. The research alone had taken two weeks. When he returned hers to her with a giant red "F" scrawled across the top, and thick red lines struck through whole paragraphs, she felt sick and crumpled it into her bag, fully aware of a mirthfully evil glint in his eyes. It was the first F she'd ever gotten in her entire school career.

"Oh, bugger him anyway," Ron had said after class. "It's just one paper. He can't fail you on everything. He's still sore because you yelled at him about Harry in front of Dumbledore."

Hermione had pretended the dummy she was using for sparring practice was actually Professor Snape. Maybe that's why she had gotten so good at knocking him out so quickly. The dummy got up again and she began to attack it, imagining the grey, featureless form had Snape's greasy black hair and sarcastic smirk.

How did I get an F? I worked so hard on that essay! I used twenty-two different references when he asked for ten...

Pow!

...a whole extra roll of parchment...

Wham!

...carefully documented footnotes...

Slam! The dummy went smashing to the floor.

...it was a great essay!

"Miss Granger!" Professor Tenby snapped her out of her daydreaming. "Watch your hand, please - you'll break your wrist if you keep that up. Your wrist should be in line with the rest of your arm." She held out her arm, demonstrating. "Like this."

"Okay," said Hermione, brushing her hair out of her face.

Professor Tenby looked at her thoughtfully. "Why don't you take a break? Rest for a minute? I think you've quite got the way of this."

Hermione started to say no, but Professor Tenby raised an eyebrow, and Hermione changed her mind. She went over to the side of the room and sat against the wall, stretching her legs out in front of her and watching the rest of the class.

Most everyone was doing rather well. Many of them had been as clumsy as Hermione had been at first, but they had improved over the last month. Even Neville was doing a good job of disabling his dummy on a consistent basis, though like Hermione he still had some trouble with falling properly.

Harry and Ron were doing quite nicely. Ron had taken to the class like a duck to water, and Professor Tenby usually ended up awarding him several points at the end of every class, which thrilled him to pieces. She often asked him to help her demonstrate certain moves to the class, which he did eagerly. Harry was rather capable as well; his Seeker's reflexes were put to good use here, though Hermione could tell he felt uncomfortable not being able to use his wand.

Not surprisingly, Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's ever-present sidekicks, mastered everything Professor Tenby taught almost effortlessly, something that happened in no other class. This was a good thing considering the trouble Malfoy was having. Apparently, 'Junior Death Eater' training didn't include non-magical concerns. She got a kind of perverse pleasure in watching Malfoy get thrown to the floor over and over again while he complained the whole time.

"Quit staring at me, Granger," sneered Malfoy, when he noticed she was looking in his direction. "Don't think Weasley will be too happy to see his little Mudblood girlfriend drooling over me."

She ignored him. He wasn't talking loud enough for Ron to hear. Arguing with him would only make him insult her more.

"Guess what I heard, Crabbe?" Malfoy said over his shoulder to his sidekick, as if she weren't there. "I heard that the famous Harry Potter got his heart broken by a Mudblood and tried to off himself. She hooked up with his best friend, of all people. How pathetic is that? I mean, really, who would want to - "

"Shut up, Malfoy!" yelled Hermione, leaping to her feet. "You don't know what you're talking about, you disgusting little ferret!"

"What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?" said Ron, stepping between them.

"Just congratulating her on her choice of men," he said casually. "She might be a Mudblood, but at least she had the sense to choose a pure-blood wizard, even if he is a Weasley, over that half-blood Potter."

It was fortunate that Professor Tenby stepped between Ron and Malfoy at moment, because Ron exploded into a murderous rage. Harry, who had just realized what was happening, dragged Ron off to the side.

"You are the sorriest piece of rubbish I've laid eyes on, Malfoy!" Ron yelled.

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy," said Professor Tenby. "I will not tolerate this kind of outburst in my class. Thirty points from each of you."

"He started it," snapped Ron.

"Actually, you did, Weasley," Malfoy replied.

"Shut up!" Ron struggled fiercely to get away from Harry and over to Malfoy.

"Okay, make it forty points, and a detention for each of you," said Professor Tenby. "Mr. Malfoy, you're dismissed. Please get your things, then go back to your common room and stay there until lunch. If I see you in the hall before then, you'll have detention for a week."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't think my father will be too pleased to hear about this, Professor," he said nastily.

"I really don't care what your father thinks about the way I run my classroom, Mr. Malfoy," she replied, equally nastily. "Now go - before I decide to give you that week's detention anyway."

He went.

"Same for you, Mr. Weasley. Go straight to your common room and do not come out until lunch."

Ron didn't argue. After Malfoy got his clothes from the changing room and left, Ron did the same, fuming the whole time.

"The rest of you, let's get back to work," said Professor Tenby.

*****

"What did Malfoy say to you, Hermione?" Harry asked, as they went back to Gryffindor Tower after class. "I know it was something about you and Ron."

"I don't remember, exactly," lied Hermione quickly. "It was really stupid...don't worry about it. Come on, let's check on Ron."

He wasn't in the common room. "He must be in our room," said Harry. "Wait here, and I'll go and see." Harry disappeared into the seventh-year boys' dormitory.

He returned almost immediately. "He's not there either."

"Where would he have gone?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know, but he's in big trouble if Tenby sees him," said Harry. "Let's go see if we can find him."

Just then, Ron came bursting through the portrait-hole. He looked terrible - one eye was swollen half-shut and turning black, his lower lip was split and bleeding, and he was cradling his right hand against his chest.

"Ron! What happened to you?" cried Hermione, running over to him. "Your face! And your hand!"

"You didn't go after Malfoy, did you, Ron?" Harry asked.

"Damn right I did," said Ron furiously. "But if you think I look bad, you ought to see him." He grinned, then winced at the pain in his split lip.

"You need to see Madam Pomfrey," said Hermione.

"No," said Ron. "She'll have to tell McGonagall, and I'll be in even more trouble than I am now."

"Well, you can't go round looking like this, or you'll be in trouble anyway," said Hermione. "Let's see what we can do - come up to my room."

"What?" Ron looked shocked. "Go in the girls' dormitory? Are you mad?"

"Oh, please," said Hermione. "It's perfectly innocent. Besides, Lavender sneaks Seamus in here all the time, and he's a prefect."

"That is not a picture I want in my head," said Harry, as the three of them climbed the steps to the dormitories.

"Sit," said Hermione, pointing to a chair. She looked at his injuries. "You mean Malfoy did this to you? He looks so incompetent in class."

"Well, not just Malfoy," said Ron, flinching as she wiped the blood off his face. "There were a couple of other Slytherins lurking around, skiving off class, not Crabbe and Goyle, but they amounted to the same thing. Good thing I disarmed them all, they just got to use their fists."

"Why did you go after him anyway?" asked Harry. "You were supposed to come right back here."

"I'm sick of that bastard talking to Hermione like that," said Ron. "I swear to Merlin, one of these days I'm going to kill him, I really am - ouch!"

"If you'd be still, it wouldn't hurt so much," said Hermione. She poured some water from a jug on a table, used a Freezing Charm on it, and wrapped the ice that formed in a cloth. "Here, hold this to your eye. What about your hand?"

Ron held out his right hand. The knuckles were badly swollen and his thumb stuck out strangely. "I forgot what Tenby said about how to make a fist properly. Then Malfoy ducked when I threw a punch, and I hit the wall instead. Solid stone. Hurts like hell."

Hermione frowned. "I hope not. I can't do anything but the most basic first-aid spells. We haven't gotten very far in Healing Arts yet. I can fix your lip, but I can't do anything about your hand. If it is broken, you're going to have to go to Madam Pomfrey."

She touched his lip gently with her wand and muttered a few words, and the edges of the cut sealed themselves together. "There, I think that should do it."

"I'm sure it would feel a lot better if you kissed it," Ron said, grinning.

Harry coughed loudly.

"You've got to calm down when it comes to Malfoy," Hermione said quickly. "You don't need his father causing trouble."

"Bugger Lucius Malfoy! I'm sick of all the Malfoys." He added a few other choice comments about the Malfoy family that made Hermione's ears burn.

"Ron! Watch your mouth!" she said.

"I mean it, Hermione. If he doesn't leave you alone, I'll kill him."

"Did you hear what he said to Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, something about - ouch! What are you doing, Hermione?"

"Harry, can you go find something that I can use to get the blood off Ron's robes, please?" Hermione asked.

"Well, okay, but I just wanted to know - "

"Now, please, Harry? Otherwise we'll be late for lunch."

"I can just change clothes, Hermione, it's no big deal," said Ron.

"Go. Now. Please," said Hermione through gritted teeth.

Harry, looking puzzled and slightly offended, left the room. Hermione waited to make sure he had gone before she said anything.

"What's going on? Why did you get rid of Harry?"

"Did you really hear what Malfoy said to me, Ron?" she asked.

"Yeah, he said 'at least she had the sense to choose a pure-blood wizard, even if he is a Weasley, over that half-blood Potter'...oh..." He trailed off, comprehension dawning on his face.

"But first, he said 'I heard that the famous Harry Potter got his heart broken by a Mudblood and tried to off himself,'" she said.

"That's just a load of dragon-dung!" said Ron indignantly. "Harry doesn't like you in that way. He was all upset about those nightmares about his parents dying."

"I know that, and you know that, and Harry knows that, but that doesn't mean he needs people harassing him," said Hermione. "He says he's all right, you know, but I'm not so sure. If Voldemort really is behind all these dreams he's having, then he needs to keep his wits about him. So just watch what you say about Malfoy, okay? And try to keep Harry away from him, if you can."

"If Malfoy's thinking that, then I bet other people are too," said Ron slowly. "What if someone else says that to him?"

"I don't think anyone will," said Hermione. "Malfoy and his brainless sycophants are the only people tactless enough to spout that kind of nonsense."

"Can I come in now?" called Harry from the hallway.

"Yes!" yelled Hermione. "Remember what I said," she hissed to Ron. He nodded.

Harry came back in, holding a green bottle. "Do you think this would work?" he asked.

"Great, Harry, thank you," she said, taking the bottle.

"Your hand looks terrible," said Harry to Ron. "Are you sure it's all right?"

Ron wiggled his rapidly swelling fingers, wincing. "I don't know. I guess I'm going to have to go to Madam Pomfrey after all. Great. More detention."

"Hermione," said Harry thoughtfully, "what exactly did you do to me down in the hospital wing?"

"I thought we went over this already, Harry," she said. "Why do you ask?"

"I wonder if you could do it to Ron's hand."

"I don't know," she said. "I really don't know what I did in the first place. And what if it doesn't work on physical injuries - just the other kind? I really shouldn't be doing this kind of magic without knowing what it is, or what I can do with it."

What if it does work? What if you can do it?

"You could give it a try, Hermione," said Ron.

"What if I mess up? Your hand might end up with no bones left, like Harry's arm when Lockhart got through with it."

"Well, he'll just have to take a big swig of Skele-Gro, won't he?" said Harry, pulling a face.

"I'm going to be in trouble either way," said Ron. "I won't be able to hold a quill at this rate, and I can't hide it."

"Okay. But don't say I didn't warn you."

She pulled a chair over in front of Ron and sat down, took his injured hand in both of hers, and closed her eyes.

Think.

She felt as if she could see inside Ron's hand. Each of the tiny burst blood vessels and capillaries, bruised muscles, and even a cracked bone stood out very clearly in her mind. As she concentrated, she could feel each one of them shifting back into their proper places; the swelling gradually went down, and the hand became firm and solid again under her fingers.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione, it worked," Ron said softly, when she'd finished. He held up his hand and flexed his fingers carefully, staring at it like he'd never seen it before. The swelling and scratches were completely gone. "It doesn't hurt. Not even a little bit." He and Harry looked at her with identical expressions of amazement.

I fixed his hand! How did I do that? What kind of magic is this?