The Last Time

Chapter 14

Hermione didn't want to go down to breakfast in the morning. After what had happened the night before, she wasn't sure if she could look either of her friends in the eye. She had been absolutely furious when she'd come back upstairs - she'd screamed herself hoarse and lain awake for hours afterward, staring miserably into the velvety blackness above her head and replaying every word over and over in her mind. She couldn't believe that they had the nerve to stand around and discuss her, like she was incapable of deciding things for herself!

But in the cold light of morning, she felt sorry for what had been said and done. Granted, Harry had been pretty nasty to both of them, but considering the day he'd had - not that that was an excuse, mind you - but still, she hadn't needed to slap him. He hadn't been himself for a long time.

And Ron - well, she knew what he really meant when he said it wasn't a big deal for them to be kissing in a public place. It just wasn't a capital crime like Harry seemed to make it out to be. Ron just wasn't always able to say exactly what he was thinking.

Just when we were back on speaking terms again, we mess it up. Like those ridiculous, melodramatic soap operas Mother used to watch. Well, you weren't Sorted into Gryffindor for nothing, you know. Get your arse out of bed and get moving. You can't fix it up lying around in bed all day. You think Snape's going to care that the three of you had a fight when you don't show up for Potions?

The common room was empty when she went downstairs. She went alone to the Great Hall, where Ron was sitting by himself at the end of the Gryffindor table. An untouched plate of poached eggs and bacon sat in front of him, and he was tearing a piece of toast into little shreds.

Swallow your pride and make the first move, she thought, otherwise we'll all be mad at each other till Easter.

"Good morning," she said casually, sitting down beside him.

He looked up with a tentative smile. "Hey."

"Listen, about last night, Ron - I'm really sorry," she said, very quickly.

"Me too," he said, in a very relieved voice, with a real smile this time.

"It was a long day, and I was tired, and you know how I hate people talking behind my back, and - "

Ron waved his fork at her. "You don't need to explain, Hermione. It's okay. We were prats and we deserved it."

She filled her plate and they both ate for a while in companionable silence.

"There's Harry," said Ron, nodding.

Harry stood in the doorway to the Great Hall, looking as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to go in or not.

"Maybe - maybe I should go talk to him," said Hermione. "I don't want this to drag out forever."

"Good idea," said Ron.

As she approached Harry, he looked as if he wanted to turn and walk away, but he didn't.

"Harry - can I talk to you? Please?" asked Hermione.

"Not now," he said. "Not here. Later."

"Then will you at least come sit with Ron and me?"

He followed her to the table. "Hermione, I'm not really in the mood for conversation this morning, okay?"

"Come on, Harry, have a seat." She sat down beside Ron, and patted the seat on her other side.

"No...I think I'll just get some toast and go," said Harry, not looking at either of them.

"Harry, come on now," said Ron. "Sit down."

Harry grabbed some toast from the table. "I'll see you in class later."

He left.

"That didn't go well," said Hermione. "He's not the same, Ron. It's like we're trying to corner a wild animal or something. I don't like it."

"Me either," said Ron. "But what can we do? He hates for anyone to make a fuss over him. I say we just try to act as normal as possible and the whole thing will blow over on its own."

Hermione wasn't too sure that was the best thing to do.

*****

For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger skipped class.

She had barely paid attention in Arithmancy and Healing Arts that morning, and was mortified when she was called on for answers and had none to give. When Harry didn't show up for lunch, she got a sick feeling in her stomach. She told Ron she wasn't feeling well - mumbling something about a stomachache, which wasn't too far from the truth - and instead of going down to the dungeons for Potions, she headed to the Owlery. She pulled out a quill, inkbottle, and parchment from her book bag and sat on the stone floor to write a note to Remus Lupin.

Dear Remus,

I'm worried about Harry. He is not acting like himself lately. I know he's had a lot going on, and I could just be overreacting, but I don't think so.

I went with him to the Dursleys' funeral yesterday. While we were there he found his parents' graves, and it was a great shock. He wanted to go to Privet Drive also, which upset him. Then when we returned to school, he started an argument with Ron and me. It was a nasty row all around. I lost my temper and slapped him. He stormed out of the common room and did not come back last night. This morning, I tried to talk to him, and apologise, but he didn't want to talk. He did not sit with us at breakfast and did not come at all to lunch.

Ron thinks that the best thing to do is just wait and let it blow over, as we all know how Harry hates to be fussed over, but I'm not so sure about that. I wanted to let you know how he is, and ask your advice on what to do. Please owl back as soon as possible.

Thank you,

Hermione

P.S. Please do not tell Harry or Ron that I wrote you.

She folded the letter neatly and tied it to the leg of one of the school owls, sending it off out the window. Then, since she'd told Ron she wasn't feeling well, she decided to go up to her room and use the time to catch up on some studying. He'd probably come looking for her later to tell her what nasty things Snape said about her missing class.

*****

It's amazing how much work a person can get done when they have a long stretch of uninterrupted time to themselves. She finished two essays in the time she was supposed to have been in Potions, then turned to her Healing Arts textbook to catch up on what she should have learned when she daydreamed the morning away. Crookshanks curled up at her feet, purring madly, and she stopped every so often to tickle him with her toes, making him stretch luxuriantly. She was so absorbed in reading about Boneset Spells that she didn't notice the knock on her door until it was loud and frantic.

"Hermione? Are you in there?" It was Ron.

"Yes - come in!" called Hermione, sweeping her books and papers off the bed and sitting up.

Ron came in, looking very uneasy about being in the girls' dormitory. "Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yes, quite," she said. "I think it was just something I ate. Much better now."

"Good," said Ron. "Potions was a nightmare, as usual. Neville blew up another cauldron and I thought Snape would have a stroke. Here, I brought you my notes to copy." He dropped some parchments on the bed.

"Thanks, Ron," she said. "Did he have anything to say about me not being there?"

"Yeah, the typical stuff, taking five points from Gryffindor, but nothing too bad. I told him you were sick, and he just rolled his eyes." Ron did his best disgusted-Snape look and imitated the Potions teacher's oily voice.

"Well, well, well, Miss Granger's missing," he said arrogantly. "I'm sure she feels she knows so much about the subtle science and exact art of Potion making that she has no need to grace us with our presence today. Too bad the rest of you lot didn't fall ill as well. Now I have to watch your incompetence up close, instead of in my nightmares!"

"Oh Ron, that's horrible!" said Hermione, laughing.

"So? He's horrible," said Ron, dropping back to his normal voice. "Wait, here's another one. See if you can guess who this is."

He sat down on the edge of the bed, steepled his fingers, and looked down his nose at her as if he were looking over the top of a pair of reading glasses. "Ah, Miss Granger, what an excellent idea!" he said in a pleasant, old-fashioned voice. "Let's see, how about three hundred points for Gryffindor? Yes, that does it quite nicely. Now run along, I have some urgent business to attend to."

"It's Dumbledore!" said Hermione, falling back on the bed. "Do another one!"

Ron's eyes glazed over and his voice changed to flat and monotonous. "And then, in 1235, the second son of Eric the Eager went on strike for reforms in the Upper House of the Chamber of the Blah-Blah-Blah, and oh dear me, I seem to have died. No matter, business as usual. Right then, moving along, in 1300, the first assassination attempt on Stewart the Stupid failed as a direct result of the students who really are not listening in this class but I'm going to keep talking anyway, because I haven't a life."

"Binns! Too funny!"

Ron waved his hands in the air randomly and broke into a ridiculously high falsetto. "Yes, my dears, the psychic vibrations in the room are quite strong...those blessed with the Sight have a rare gift...I foresee much death and destruction...terrible things are about to happen, yes, terrible things...how dare you question the Sight, Miss Granger! Just because you are not sensitive to the vibrations of the universe! Ah!" He began to fan himself furiously.

Hermione was laughing so hard she almost couldn't speak. "That's - that - old - fake - Trelawney!" she sputtered, tears rolling down her face. "Don't do - anymore - I might - just - explode!"

He jumped to his feet and began to prance around the room. "I'm such a poncy git. Look at me, my hair's all curly, and my robes are all frilly! I've sold millions of books, you know, I'm incredibly famous - look at the girls swoon! But don't ask me to duel - I might just drop my wand! I can't do a thing except Memory Charms! Oh no, my hair's mussed up! Saaaave meee!"

"Lockhart!" shrieked Hermione, holding her sides, which ached terribly from all the laughing. "Oh, you've really got to stop now. I can't take any more!"

"I guess if I can't find any other job when I leave school, I could open my own comedy club, huh?" said Ron, sitting at the end of the bed again.

"Of course you'll get a job," said Hermione, sitting up and trying to get the giggles back under control. She seemed to have been giggling an inordinate amount lately - maybe it was Ron's fault.

The smile left Ron's face. "Yeah, right. I don't have the grades to go into the Ministry - not that I'd want to. D'you think I want to end up like Percy?" He made a face. "Fred and George said I could come work for them, but - I don't really want to. It's fine for them - it's their own business, they planned it and made it work, but if I worked there I'd be a charity case. And I'm in the Auror track but...."

"There's always Quidditch," Hermione suggested. She couldn't believe how down Ron sounded, after his silly impressions just moments ago.

"Yeah, Quidditch," Ron said, picking at the bedspread. "I'd love that. But you don't see any recruiters banging down the doors to get me, do you?"

"The season hasn't even started yet, Ron. Don't worry. You're a wonderful Keeper. I don't even know anything about Quidditch, and I know that," she said.

"Well, we'll see. What about you? Any ideas about what you're going to do?" he asked.

She frowned. "No, not really. For a while, I thought I might want to be an Auror. You remember when Moody said I'd make a good one? Of course, it wasn't really Moody...but I still thought about it. But I don't think I'd like that. I don't know if I would want to be in the line of fire all the time."

"You could teach..."

"When I was little, I wanted to be a teacher. I used to have some wonderful teachers in primary school. But were would I teach? Here? I don't see that happening. And even if I could teach in the Muggle world, I don't think I'd be happy doing that either." She sighed. "I don't know what I want."

"Well, I do," said Ron.

"You do?"

"I want some dinner," he said, getting up. "Let's go."

*****

At breakfast the next morning, Hermione received an owl. Ron gave her a curious look over his bowl of porridge, but she just shook her head and opened the letter.

Hermione,

I will come to Hogwarts as soon as I can. It will be a few days before my business here is finished. Keep an eye on Harry in the meantime. I'm concerned about his mental state. Try to patch things up if you can. Don't let him start another fight with you, as hard as it is. Bite your tongue and try to keep calm. Tell Ron to do the same. If anything else happens before I get there, go to Dumbledore or McGonagall.

Remus

She had to tell him. "Ron?"

"What?"

"You know yesterday when I said I wasn't feeling well?"

"Yeah."

"Well...I...er...lied."

"What for?" he asked, a puzzled look on his face.

"I know you said you thought we should just let Harry get over this, but -"

Ron scowled. "You're not on about Harry, again, are you Hermione? I told you, he doesn't need us hovering and smothering him. He just needs some time and space, and he'll come around!"

"I'm telling you, I don't think so! And I'm not the only one!" She thrust the letter in his face. "Look!"

Ron scanned the letter, mouth moving silently as he read, then glared up at her. "What's Remus Lupin doing writing you?"

"Because that's why I skipped Potions yesterday - to owl him! And good thing I did, too. He's worried about Harry as well!"

"Hermione, you're overreacting," said Ron. "I know he had that thing with the dreams. You fixed that. He's better now. He's just in shock about the Dursleys. He doesn't know how to act about them being dead, since they were such rotten people. When he gets it sorted out, he'll be fine! And when Lupin gets here, he's going to tell you the same thing."

"No, Ron, I don't think so," she said.

"You're such a worrywart," said Ron. "Harry doesn't need us to hover over him. I'm telling you, I know Harry like I know my brothers. He's going to be fine."

"I am not being a worrywart!" snapped Hermione.

"You are! Haven't you heard a thing I've said? Harry will be fine!" He threw Lupin's letter down on the table. "I'm going to get ready for the game. Don't go writing anymore letters, okay?"

*****

The stands were packed for the first Quidditch match of the season - Gryffindor against Ravenclaw. Hermione sat nervously in the stands, with Ginny on one side and Fred and Angelina on the other. She hadn't seen Harry since breakfast the day before, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him come out onto the pitch with the rest of the team. Wherever he'd been and whatever he'd been doing, at least he remembered there was a game today.

Maybe it would have been better if he had forgotten. Usually when he came out for a game, he flew high above the pitch, making a few turns and loops before the balls were let out, but today he just flew to the end of the pitch and waited while the rest of the team flew around. Ron flew up to him several times, apparently talking to him, but Harry just waved him off and hovered in place.

"What's going on with Harry?" Fred asked. "He looks bloody awful."

"He's - got a lot going on right now," said Hermione.

"Well he better get his mind on the game," said Fred. "He looks like he's about to fall asleep on his broom out there."

"Leave him alone!" said Hermione. "Some things are more important than a stupid game!"

Fred's eyes widened in shock. "What's with you?"

"I'm sorry Fred...it's just that I'm really worried about Harry. You don't know about his aunt and uncle, do you?"

Fred shook his head. Hermione filled him and Angelina in on the Dursleys and everything that had happened during the week.

"Oh," said Fred. "Crikey, I'm surprised he's even out there. Dangerous game, Quidditch, when your mind's not on it."

"Well, your brother seems to think Harry's going to be just fine," said Hermione.

"Ron's an idiot," said Ginny suddenly.

"Ginny!" said Fred.

"Well, he is," Ginny continued. "He means well, and thinks he's doing the right thing - but he's still an idiot. Do you think he even noticed when I...when I had the diary? When I was out killing chickens and writing on the walls in blood and letting Tom Riddle take over my mind? Didn't think so. Don't pay him any attention, Hermione, he's clueless. If it means anything, I'm worried too."

Hermione was shocked to hear Ginny mention her experience with Tom Riddle's diary; she had never talked about it with her in the four years since it had happened. Hearing Ginny say she was worried as well brought two sharp thoughts to her brain: See, I'm not overreacting, and If Ginny thinks so too, then something bad really is going on. Then she thought, None of us noticed what was going on with Ginny. Tom Riddle was making her do terrible things, and we hadn't a clue. Ginny almost died because we weren't paying attention. We can't let that happen with Harry.

Just then, the Bludgers and the Snitch were let out of their crate, followed shortly by the Quaffle, and the game began. Kevin Entwhistle, a Ravenclaw seventh-year, was calling the game today.

"And Natalie McDonald has the Quaffle for Gryffindor, she's making a dive for the goals - intercepted by Orla Quirke for Ravenclaw - she tries to score - blocked by Weasley!"

Ron blocked the Ravenclaw Chaser's scoring attempt and tossed the Quaffle to Dennis Creevey, who promptly dropped it. Su Li, another Ravenclaw Chaser, picked it up and tried to score, but was again blocked by Ron. For what seemed like an eternity, the Gryffindor Chasers kept dropping the Quaffle, allowing Ravenclaw to intercept and attempt to score, but Ron blocked them every time.

"What's with this team today?" said Angelina. "These Chasers can't hold onto the Quaffle for love nor money!"

"If Ron wasn't blocking so well, Ravenclaw would have scored about a hundred points by now," said Fred, shaking his head. "I can't believe it."

Ron yelled something to Harry, who waved to Madam Hooch.

"And Potter calls a time-out for Gryffindor!" called Entwhistle.

The Gryffindor team gathered at the end of the field. Ron was yelling and waving his arms about, as the younger members of the team cowered. Natalie McDonald yelled back at him, sticking her finger in his face, and he roared back at her until Dennis Creevey separated them. Finally, Harry must have said something either very inspiring or very rude, as everyone immediately jumped back onto his or her broom and back into the game.

"All right, we're back on. Creevey has the Quaffle - he throws to McDonald - who scores! Gryffindor's up ten-nothing. Wake up down there, Ackerley!" Entwhistle shouted at the Ravenclaw Keeper, earning himself a poke in the head from Professor Flitwick, who was seated behind him on a large brown box.

"Sound like anyone you know?" laughed Angelina. "They must always pick the smart-arses for the commentary."

"Penalty to Ravenclaw for cobbing!" shouted Entwhistle. Su Li took the penalty, which Ron easily blocked, and he tossed the Quaffle to Natalie McDonald. She flew down the pitch to the Ravenclaw goals, dodging and weaving to avoid the Bludgers and Beaters in her path.

"McDonald scores again for Gryffindor! They're up twenty to nothing."

Hermione saw a golden flash near the Gryffindor goalposts and grabbed Ginny's arm. "Look - Ginny - see that?" They both began to yell, along with Fred and Angelina, hoping Harry would hear them.

Apparently, Harry saw it just as they did, because he dove straight for it. The Ravenclaw Seeker, Stephen Cornfoot, was right beside him in an instant. He tried to bump Harry off course, but Harry shoved him right back and reached out for the Snitch. They both dipped and swerved to avoid a Bludger, but the Snitch didn't get away. Harry shoved the other Seeker hard enough to make him veer off to the left and then -

"Potter has the Snitch!" shouted Entwhistle. "Gryffindor wins - one hundred seventy to nothing!" He looked extremely angry, and it seemed that only Flitwick's wagging finger kept him from making rude comments about the outcome of the game.

Hermione and Ginny ran out onto the pitch with the rest of the Gryffindors, and pushed their way through the crowd until they reached the Gryffindor team.

"Great job, Ron," said Hermione, kissing him on the cheek. "You were wonderful."

"Yes, you were," said Natalie McDonald, her dark ponytail bobbing merrily. "Sorry about that yelling thing at the time out. But it worked out end the end, right?"

"No big deal," said Ron, blushing. "Heat of the moment, and all that."

"Mr. Weasley?" said a tall man that Hermione didn't know. "Excellent game, son. They weren't getting anything past you today."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" asked Ron, offering his hand. "Ron Weasley."

"Simon Warrington, from the Tutshill Tornados," said the man, shaking Ron's hand. "I'd like to talk to you, if you have a few minutes."

Mr. Warrington steered Ron away from the crowd, leaving Hermione standing there with Ginny.

"Well, that was rude," said Ginny. "Just walking off like that! He acted like you weren't even here!"

Hermione wasn't listening. A solitary flash of red caught her eye, and she looked across the field to see Harry walking back to the changing rooms alone, the struggling Snitch still clutched in one gloved hand.