The Battle for Peace

Chapter 8: The Talk

A few weeks into February were when things began to go back to normal. Ashley had given up her position as co-Head Girl. She explained to the Headmaster that Hermione was doing a better job than she was. So, Hermione was the only Head Girl; Ashley was still allowed access to the Head Suite if she ever needed it. When she asked Dumbledore why she might need it, he just smiled and told her to get to class.

Hermione had taken to talking less when Ron was around. When Harry asked her why she would become so quiet, she replied that, "If I don't have something civil to say, I might as well say nothing at all." It amazed Harry that Ron and Hermione were still fighting.

Ron was eyeing Ashley's friend, Patty. Need I say more?

Harry had only one thing on his mind: the war.

As important as that was, it bothered Ashley still. She didn't understand why, though, until Adrian, who had finally started to talk to her after a while, explained why she felt that way.

"It's almost too common," he told her, trying not to smile. She tapped her foot impatiently.

"Not common enough for me to know, because I'm asking you," she muttered, rolling her eyes. Stressed out from intense class-work, her hair was slightly frizzy and falling out of her chignon. In Adrian's eyes, she was rather pretty, what with her eyes shining with the impatience and anger he was causing her.

"You don't want him to think about anything else but you," he stated, leaning back in his chair. She furrowed her brow, confused, before setting him right in his chair.

"Hold it, Dr. Love," she said, pulling his chair forward. The legs hit the ground with a sharp THUNK. He looked at her. "We're over, remember? Why do I care if he thinks about me?" He smirked.

"You are not as modest as you think you are," he began.

About half an hour later, Ashley had shoved Adrian and left the Ravenclaw Common Room in a huff. Adrian had told her that, despite not thinking she was good enough for a beauty pageant, deep down she suspected that once she got someone's attention, she expected to keep his attention.

As if, she thought to herself. She wasn't like that at all.

But was that the case with Harry?

<><><><>

March was upon Hogwarts, meaning the professors were trying very hard to prepare the students for their exams. Hermione was going into studying overload, encouraging her friends to do the same. As Head Girl, Hermione had the influence to quiet any student who would disrupt the fifth and seventh years' concentrated studying. More than one or two ignorant students had felt her wrath.

Harry had asked his friends to write down on a piece of paper that might be helpful for...well, you know. So, in between absorbing ingredients for a potion or a spell in charms, they also managed to jot down any spell that might be helpful. Harry was pleased to see that there were some simple spells written; "simple" just screamed the element of surprise among Death Eaters.

"Ron, what exactly does that one do?" Harry asked, pointing to a particular spell on the sheet. Ron, who was desperately trying to remember the spell to transfigure an object into a mirror, barely glanced at the spell Harry was pointing at before replying.

"Took a little page out of Danaev's book," he explained, chewing on his quill. Harry wouldn't have minded this, but it wasn't a sugar quill. "It sends the victim into a series of flashbacks over their most painful memories; they're supposed to suspend in midair and sort of go into shock.

"You-Know-Who might know that one, but it doesn't mean it's useless," he stated, writing something hurriedly on his parchment. Harry nodded, focusing on a Sleeping Draught for Potions.

It was almost an hour later when Hermione spoke.

"We should take a break and go to dinner."

In pure shock, everyone at the table had dropped their quills and books, disrupting the peace in the common room. Even the fifth years, who were taking their O.W.L.s very seriously, were staring open-mouthed at Hermione. Lavender put a hand to Hermione's forehead.

"Are you all right, Hermione? You don't sound like yourself," she said. Hermione scowled, shoving her hand away.

"Oh, please!" she exclaimed. She turned to the fifth years. "Go on, study. There is nothing to see here." Reluctantly, the fifth year Gryffindors went back to work. "I know that what I said was a bit out of the ordinary--" she whispered.

"Hell, yes!" Ron hissed. Hermione ignored him, gently tapping her fingers on her Charms book.

"--but we really should relax and let all of the information settle into our minds. Cramming it in with no breaks will only harm us." Sighing, the group nodded and rose. They stretched for a minute, a few bones cracking from being in one position too long. Ready, they headed out of the portrait hole to the Great Hall, hearing for once the intense grumbling of their stomachs.

When they entered the Great Hall, it was not what they expected. Every student was silent, picking morosely at their food. The teachers at the Head Table looked on helplessly; it appeared that they had tried everything to brighten the mood, but to no avail. Not a sound could be heard except for the occasional utensil against a plate or the placing of a goblet on the table. The ceiling, which was supposed to mirror the sky outside, seemed to reflect the mood inside; it was very dark and cloudy.

Hesitantly, the seventh year Gryffindors sat down, eating their food and glancing uncomfortably at the people around them.

A little frustrated, Neville stood up and banged his goblet hard on the table, grabbing everyone's attention.

"CAN'T YOU AT LEAST PRETEND TO BE BLOODY CHEERFUL?"

Okay, so maybe Neville was very frustrated.

"Neville!" Parvati scolded, tugging at the hem of his sleeve. Everyone was staring at him, their mouths opening and closing like fish. Blushing, Neville sat down.

"Why do they have to ruin it?" he questioned, sulkily stirring his mashed potatoes, his head resting on his palm.

"We need something to liven this place up a bit. Not an attack, but something to get everyone happy and cheering," Seamus said, thinking. The entire group began to think of a way to spice up the Great Hall, absentmindedly taking swigs of pumpkin juice.

They all jumped when they heard someone humming.

Turning to see what the source was, the group saw that Ashley had come into the Great Hall, stuffing books into her bag (that brought back a lot of memories for Hermione) and humming. Ron grinned at his friends, clearing his throat as she sat down.

"Evening, Ash," he greeted.

"'Lo, Ron," she mumbled, stuffing food into her mouth at an alarming speed.

"Eat much?" Seamus asked.

"Not really," she answered dryly, reaching for a plate of chicken. Harry handed it to her, amused.

"Will you sing something?" Ron blurted out. Ashley didn't face him.

"Sure," she agreed. Ron grinned.

"Really?" he asked.

"No!" she exclaimed, dropping her fork. "Ron, I only sing by myself, and even then only in the shower."

"Interesting," Harry noted, raising his eyebrows. Her cheeks grew hot as she glared at both him and Ron.

"It was just a suggestion! I mean, come on; everyone is so sad it's depressing," Ron remarked. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"What a way with words, Ronald," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. When she wasn't looking, Ron stuck his tongue out in her direction.

"Well, think of something else," Ashley advised, reaching for some carrots. Ron relented, keeping quiet during the rest of dinner. Everyone else proceeded to do the same. Harry was watching Ron and Ashley eat with a lopsided grin on his face.

"What is it with Weasleys and food?" he asked. Ron turned to him, grinning and showing half the contents of his dinner to his friends. Hermione gagged into her napkin.

"Disgusting, Ron!" she berated.

"It's how we grow, mate," Ron answered. "You didn't think we got so tall on genes alone, did you?" Harry thought about it; it was possible they were tall because of their parents, but Mrs. Weasley was rather short. Maybe food did help. So, Harry, always rather small for his age, began loading his plate as well.

"That's it, Harry, grow horizontally, too," said Lavender, rolling her eyes. Seamus sighed, staring at the remaining contents of his bowl.

"That eye-rolling thing has got to stop. It's spreading like mono," he said. Parvati narrowed her eyes.

"You don't even know what mono is," she pointed out, poking his shoulder. He pretended to be wiping dust from the area she had touched him.

"Woman, I do know, and it's not because I've ever had it. I just really don't want it," he explained, staring pointedly at Parvati. She rolled her eyes and scoffed, pushing away her half-eaten plate.

"Why are you letting good food go to waste, Parvati? Do you even realize how hard the house elves work to cook all of this food for us, and you just throw half of it away?" Hermione scolded, half-shouting half-whispering. Parvati smirked, wiggling a finger in Hermione's face.

"Now, now, are we still on about S.P.E.W.?" she asked in a sing-song voice, thankfully naming the society correctly.

"That's not the point," Hermione answered gruffly. "The point is that your weight is perfectly fine according to your height and there is nothing wrong with your body, so stop starving yourself!" The boys spit out their food and drink, staring at the girls with shocked faces as they wiped their mouths.

"You starve yourselves?" they all exclaimed. Yes, readers, Hermione's comment was, at the moment, directed at Parvati, but neither of the girls could say that they hadn't, at one point, limited the amount of food they ingested. Therefore, they blushed.

"Not anymore," Lavender stated, picking at a freckle on her hand.

"All this time I thought that maybe you weren't feeling well or something, and it's because you want to be thinner?" Neville asked, frowning.

"Aren't we the ones who are supposed to try to improve ourselves, mates?" Ron asked.

"Yeah!" the boys agreed.

"When was the last time the rest of you 'starved for perfection'?" Seamus asked, quoting his words with his fingers.

"I just stopped," Parvati said, bringing her plate towards her and beginning to eat again.

"Three weeks ago," Lavender answered, filing her nails.

"Last month," Hermione admitted, lowering her head. Everyone turned to Ashley. She seemed to have no trouble telling them; she wasn't blushing nor was she stuttering.

"Last year for the Winter Formal, a little in February, a little in summer, and generally once in a while, I guess," she said. Harry and Ron stared at her, incredulous at what she had admitted.

"'Generally once in a while'?" Ron repeated, stunned.

"Why?" Harry asked. He knew, above all things, that starving yourself for looks was silly and dangerous. Ashley and all of the other girls were perfectly fine just the way they were. A little chunkiness never hurt anyone.

"I always eat a lot, so I have to work hard to get my weight down to normal. I never exercise, I'm always studying," she explained, shrugging. The other girls nodded, saying that that also contributed to their reasons.

"Listen very carefully girls," Seamus began, "because we're only going to say this once: we are men, you are women." Silence followed his statement.

"Wow, I can't believe we never figured it out," said Ashley sarcastically. Neville wrinkled his nose.

"No, that's not what we're trying to say. What we're really trying to say is that you shouldn't worry about appearance," Neville said knowledgably, wiping his hands.

"You girls are smart, funny, fun, and beautiful," Harry declared. "You are just what every guy is looking for. Guys are the only ones who have to work on themselves; it's not the woman's problem. Sorry, guys," he lamented, "but it's true." Ashley smiled.

"Harry, that's sweet of you to say," she began sweetly, "but unfortunately, not all men out there are Harrys, Rons, Seamuses or Nevilles. They're all creeps who only want women for their bodies, not their mind or their personality," she said heatedly.

"Then choose different ones," he answered coolly. She opened her mouth to retort, but instead decided to go to the library. "What did I say?" Harry asked them as she left the Great Hall. The boys shrugged, while the girls shook their heads. "What?" he asked again. The girls said nothing, only getting up and leaving.

"Women," the boys chorused. They laughed and continued eating.

~~~~~~~~~~

The library had changed only slightly over the past year. The chairs and tables were made more comfortable for those students who took their studies seriously. House colors were everywhere, almost designating members of their respective houses to sit or stand in a certain spot, but Ashley knew that that was not Dumbledore's intention. Trying hard not to slam her books on the almost-new table, she took a few deep breaths.

The nerve of Harry! "Then choose different ones"? Didn't he know anything? There were no choices when it came to men these days. It was either settle for the beer gut man or become a lesbian, and Ashley was willing to do neither. She blew the hair out of her face, trying to concentrate on inanimate transfiguration.

"Penny for your thoughts?" a voice asked. Suddenly calm, Ashley looked up to see Aaron with a pile of books in his arms. She smiled; he was the only wizard she knew who studied Muggle customs and sayings around the world just for the heck of it.

"Can you afford it?" she inquired, holding back a grin. He chuckled.

"Depends what you're thinking about," he started, sitting down and spreading his books out. Ashley could see that some of them were about ancient spells. "Is it the N.E.W.T.s, the war, or darling Harry?" he asked, smirking. She lightly punched his arm.

"Quit it!" she murmured. Apparently she was too loud in hissing, because Madam Pince glared at her and sharply told her to "Shush!" She lowered her voice. "I'm thinking about something he said. It relates to all men, not just him." She succeeded in grabbing his attention. He placed his quill behind his ear and twirled his wand in his fingers. His blue eyes lit up with intrigue, and he stomped the floor as quietly as possible. Ashley tried not to giggle.

"Do tell, girlfriend!" he urged, trying to flip his hair. He almost toppled out of his chair and was admonished by Madam Pince for his efforts. Ashley sniggered.

"Stop with the American sayings," she said. "Anyways, I was just wondering...after the war's over, what am I going to do?" Aaron frowned, pulling spare pieces of paper out of his hair.

"I thought you were going to write. And what about that internship?" he questioned. She shook her head.

"I mean--you know," she trailed off, blushing. He was confused for a moment, but then realization dawned on him.

"Oh-oh--OH!" he exclaimed.

"One more peep out of either of you and you're out!" Madam Pince hissed.

"Sorry," they whispered. They opened their books, pretending to study. After a minute, assuming they had convinced the librarian that they were immersed in their studies, Aaron spoke.

"Why the Hell are you worrying about that?" he asked, taking notes as he spoke. She sighed, looking up the necessary ingredients for a Forgetfulness Potion.

"It's just that--well, did you know that girls starve themselves? Only sometimes, for looks?" she inquired, hoping he knew.

"I do now," he answered, grinning. His grin faded when he saw that she remained serious.

"Well, somehow the guys thought that we-girls--do it only for looks and that made me think, 'What ever happened to a girl trying to be smart or witty to get the guy?' I mean, everything is based on looks, so you'll never really get to know someone, and that's a dead-end relationship and that leads to--"

Aaron covered her mouth. "You can stop, I get the point." He let go, and she stayed quiet, waiting for his viewpoint. "First, you shouldn't worry. We're only seventeen, we have some time. Second, you really should focus on getting a career or something, not some guy," he advised. She sighed.

"You're right. I won't think of it again until I get my facts straight," she lied. There was no doubt she would think about it again; he knew it, too.

"And, well, now that that's over with," he said, deciding to drop the previous subject, "I need to tell you something." He was quiet, not sure whether to tell her what he needed to disclose. She leaned forward, laying a hand on his arm.

"What is it?" she inquired. "You know you can tell me."

"It's a job I've been doing," he began...

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was frustrated. Seriously, he was at the end of his tether. He and Ron were supposed to be studying in Transfiguration, but Ron kept throwing Harry glances, as if he wanted to tell him something. Whenever Harry would ask, Ron would say it was nothing, though they had been best friends long enough for both of them to know it wasn't true.

Currently, they were in the Gryffindor Common Room, which was, at the moment, empty, except for a sleeping Neville and a jumpy Ginny by the fireplace. She kept checking her watch; Harry knew why, as she had told him her secret, only after making him swear he wouldn't tell Ron. Hermione had figured it out earlier, of course, and some other people had. Ron was the only one of them that didn't know.

Was that what Ron was going--trying to ask Harry about? Well, if he was, he had better get on with it, as Harry was growing increasingly uncomfortable with Ron's nervous glances.

Not being able to concentrate on inanimate to animate transfiguration, Harry finally snapped his book shut.

"Out with it, man!" he shouted. Ron jumped. "Either out with it or I'm going upstairs to study by myself! You're making me nervous. What's wrong?" Ron wrung his hands, which, annoyingly, reminded Harry of Wormtail. Bastard, Harry thought absentmindedly.

"They're driving me mad, Harry," Ron admitted, folding an Exploding Snap card repeatedly.

"Who is?" Harry asked.

"The Terrible Threesome," Ron whispered, as if uttering a swearword he never intended to say, no matter what the circumstance. Harry was confused, until Ron elaborated. "Hermione, Ashley, and Ginny. They're absolutely strange, lately." Before Harry could intervene, Ron continued. "Hermione keeps biting my head off, Ginny is being extremely secretive, and Ashley won't tell me about that letter." Harry did a double take. What letter?

"What letter?" he voiced aloud. Ron frowned.

"That letter," he repeated. "The one that--wait, if she didn't even tell you she even got the letter, then I must be up in rank!" Ron exclaimed. "I know and you don't."

"You dumb arse," Harry laughed, "you just told me she got the letter. We're square, now." Ron groaned.

"Damn it to Hell," Ron swore. Harry and Ginny stifled their laughter. Looking at her watch, which said Yes, it's time to go, Ginny jumped out of her seat. She grinned at Harry and Ron.

"Have to dash. See you later," she said. She waved at them before heading out of the portrait hole. Ron rounded on Harry, eyes wide.

"See? She wouldn't even tell us where she was going!" Harry sighed, rubbing his temples. He was exhausted; they had been studying all day, plus had an interesting conversation with the girls. Add Ron's hysteria and Harry was officially worn out. He rubbed his eyes, sleepily sliding to the boys' staircase in his socks, too lazy to go out and get into the Heads' suite.

He was walking up the stairs when Ron said, "You'll be sleeping on the floor, then?" Of course, his old bed had been removed. Harry groaned, and unwillingly trudged back down the stairs and out of the portrait hole.

"Night, Ronnie," he teased, grinning slightly.

"Prat," Ron replied, though Harry could tell he was smiling.

Harry arrived at the Head Boy and Girl's suite, mumbled the password, and stumbled in. He was surprised to see Ashley on the couch, brow furrowed and her hair loose around her face. She was in her pajamas; they were a deep blue with golden snitches. Her socks were red and patterned with yellow ducks. Harry smiled.

"Whatever happened to house loyalty?" he teased. She shrugged, worry etched on her face.

"I don't know," she replied, somewhat sullenly.

Harry became serious. "Is something on your mind?" She shook her head. "Liar." She nodded. "Will you tell me?" She shook her head. "Do you realize you're acting like a five-year-old by answering me with nods and shakes?" At this she looked up sharply.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, indignant.

"Thought that would get your attention," he said. She sighed, her head in her hands. "Um, I'm still waiting." She raised her head, just staring. Should she tell him?

Of course; this was Harry she was talking about.

"You wouldn't believe me at all if I told you," she warned, her eyes round and bloodshot.

"You weren't crying about it, were you?" he asked, concerned. If something was that bad, he had to know, as Head Boy and as her friend. She shook her head quickly, hesitating. "Come on, I promise it stays here." She stared at the floor.

"What would you say," she began slowly, "if I told you that I knew--" she paused. "Come on," she ordered, dragging him out of the room.

"What--" he asked, but she shushed him. Harry had no idea where they were headed when suddenly she was whispering passwords to a statue of Godric Gryffindor, who was holding a sword. Of course, he thought, so we won't be overheard. Hurriedly, she pulled him into the familiar secluded room.

"Okay, so," she started again, pressing the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "What would you say if I told you that I know someone who works as a spy for the light side? That this person was a Death Eater, but not really?" Harry processed all of this information, stunned.

"Are you willing to tell me who it is?" he asked gently. She was about to answer when she strengthened her resolve. No, she told herself firmly. She might tell Harry a lot of things, but she needed something to keep between her and...never mind.

"Actually, I do," she answered. He shrugged.

"Okay," was all he said. She raised an eyebrow.

"That's all you have to say, 'okay'?" she asked. He nodded.

"If Dumbledore, at least, knows about it, what can I do if you won't tell me?" he explained, a bit guiltily, in Ashley's opinion. She was getting suspicious. Then it dawned on her. She smirked.

"You already knew, didn't you?" she inquired, shaking her head. He nodded, blushing. "Well, then, why didn't you speak up instead of letting me make a fool of myself?" Harry laughed.

"I needed some form of entertainment besides Ron complaining about Ginny," he answered. Ashley let out an "AH-HAH!" "Yes, I think he's starting to suspect, but not Malfoy," Harry voiced.

"D'you think he'll come around?" she asked, grinning. Harry grinned back at her.

"Our Ron Weasley?" he asked, amused. They both answered their own questions:

"Not a chance in Hell!"

<><><><><><>

Ron was ready to fall asleep waiting up for Ginny. Where was that girl off to every night? True, she didn't have to worry about the O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s, but she still had tests this year. Why wasn't she studying like the rest of Hogwarts's population? What was wrong with her?

Ron couldn't answer any of his own questions because, alas, he didn't understand girls. If he did, he would have been perfectly capable of fixing his relationship with Hermione Granger.

Yes, another problem in itself: Hermione. He knew that their first and only date was a disaster, and he suspected that that was what was causing the strain in their friendship. But was it possible that Hermione would take something so seriously? After all, Hermione was too intelligent and too busy with more important matters than a failed romance. I mean, is he not right, people? This is ridiculous, right?

"Ron?"

Ron jumped and raised his head to see Hermione standing beside him. He was about to greet her properly when he noticed that her hair was loose and a bit unkempt, her eyes were small and bloodshot, and she had tearstains on her cheeks.

"Hermione?" he questioned, worried.

"We need to talk," she said. "Maybe you should sit down."