Reign O'er Me

---

Chapter 30 - Call Me Lightning

See that girl who's smiling so brightly,
Well, I reckon she's cool and I reckon rightly,
She's good looking and I ain't frightened,
I'm gonna show you why they call me lightning.

Hey, little girl who's dancing so lightly,
My XKE is shining so brightly,
The noose around us is slowly tightening,
I'm gonna show you why they call me lightning.

- Call Me Lightning, The Who

---

"Do you have a few moments for me?" Perenelle asked, standing in the sitting room door.

Ginny pulled back from Harry after a moment and leaned against the arm of the sofa, but continued sitting on his lap.

"Um... sure." Harry gave the grinning redhead a pointed look, but she made no effort to move... at least off his lap.

"She had fair warning," Ginny said, again arching an eyebrow.

"Indeed I did," Perenelle said, matching Ginny's gesture as she settled into a nearby chair. "Youth, alas, is so often wasted upon the young. You would doubtless do far better, mes enfants aimés, to send an old woman on her way."

"Professor Flamel said you'd be... GIN!!! C'mon, move!" Harry protested.

Ginny gave him an innocent, "Who, me?" look before slowly sliding across his lap and settling on the sofa beside him. "You'll be sorry later," she promised in a whisper.

"Actually, I'm pleased to see that you are in such good spirits," Perenelle said, as her eyes twinkled. "I take it your conversation with Cassandra went well?" Perenelle watched carefully as Ginny nodded. Harry's expression was more guarded.

"Yes, it did." Harry paused for a moment. "I can't help feeling bad for both of them. They've lost so much, and now Professor Dumbledore is... hurt, and... and... so much older."

"Do not forget with whom you are talking, Harry. Beside me, there is little difference in their ages. But the obvious problems aside, were you comfortable talking with Cassandra?"

"Yes... though it's a little hard to sort it all out," Harry replied.

"It is wrong that I should ask you this, but I hope that by doing so a greater wrong might possibly be prevented. Would you share what happened earlier with me?"

Perenelle took Ginny's hand first, then Harry's. She finally released his hand and leaned back in the chair wearily. "Thank you, children."

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked.

"With Cassandra? No, lapin, what you have shared is more convincing that anything else thus far that Cassandra's spirit has truly returned to us. I had no doubts that the memories I saw earlier today were Cassandra's, but both what she said to you and what she left unsaid leave me with much less doubt." Perenelle sighed. "Your life, Harry, would have been quite different had Cassandra not fallen."

"But..." Harry started to object.

"What Cassandra told you was true, but less than everything. Nicholas has told you, has he not, that he largely withdrew from the world when Brian became guardian, and that I had done so even earlier?"

Both Harry and Ginny nodded.

"I gave up dueling and much of the public life a century before. I had hoped to live out the remainder of our lives in peace and tranquillity; but that, alas, was not to be." She looked fondly at the young couple. "You should understand that I love both Brian and Cassandra, and I disagreed with Nicholas that Cassandra--or more exactly, her gifts--represented a danger to Brian. After she left home, I became involved, one last time, as Cassandra told you; and I finally convinced Nicholas that it was better to accept them together than risk searching yet again for another to succeed him. Afterwards... I chose to withdraw completely from the world, not even permitting Nicholas to share his burdens or news of the world outside our four walls. Some time after that, a barrier arose between Brian and Nicholas, but I would have none of it, and by the time the Guardianship passed, they could not see eye to eye. Then, when Brian confronted Grindelwald," Perenelle's voice dropped to a whisper, "Cassandra was lost."

Harry could see Perenelle briefly struggle to maintain control before she continued. "And we almost lost Brian as well. He was, as you children might say, a basket case, for years afterward. Nicholas... Nicholas was consumed with guilt, as was I. Brian was healed in body... but even so, none of us could move forward, until Godric came."

"But... but by then, Godric Gryffindor would have been..." Harry started.

"Long dead and buried? Indeed he was. Perhaps I should not have told you that, but you will know everything soon enough. You have already learned that time is mutable, and the needs of the Guardianship sometimes transcend even time itself. Indeed, the two of you should understand that better than most." Perenelle looked down. "Cassandra knew most of this already, and I did not attempt to conceal either my guilt or that of Nicholas in sharing what came after. Even so, she did not cast blame or frame any of this to you other than in the gentlest of ways. Nicholas and I did both Brian and Cassandra a great disservice. Had Nicholas not attempted to meddle, or perhaps if I had remained involved, Cassandra might have lived, and Brian would have been whole... which, Harry, I think would have made a profound difference in your life... And even after all that we had done, and left undone, we... we still hesitated to involve ourselves again... though this time, from fear of causing even greater harm. It took your fifth year, and your bold actions at the Ministry, to convince Nicholas that, like Gryffindor, he still had a role to play.

"I... I waited even longer, Harry. Brian did everything but beg on bended knee to get me to come to Surrey that first day, and he would have even done that had I not finally agreed to come. And then, when I touched your minds for the first time... I knew then I had no choice other than to become involved. That this time, at least, my sins would be sins of commission, not of omission. And when Nicholas shared your words, that day after you came here to Grimmauld Place, following the reading of Sirius' will, my resolve redoubled. I wanted, more than anything else, to see that you and Ginny would have a chance to grow old together, hopefully without making the mistakes that we made, and that you would not be harmed further by our errors.

"Then, that morning, when the four of you came to Hogwarts, Nicholas had intended to come back to meet with you. I asked him to permit me, instead. I saw then how the four of you were together... your determination and courage, Harry, Ginny's love and faith, Hermione's skill of hand and mind, and Ron, who could only think of you as his... not a brother, Harry, but his brother, since he lacked the words of Rudyard Kipling that Ginny knew. I discovered then, Harry, that each one of them would have followed you through that arch, or would have fought to take your place. In spite of all our collective failures, you had come into your own; and you had, in one fashion or another, found much of what you needed, and had somehow inspired an intense loyalty in those three who appeared to be, but were anything but, children. I determined then and there that I would do whatever I might to give you the time you needed to prepare, and that I would assist you as I might, even if it meant breaking other vows, and instruct you and Ginny in the Wyrvin way of Avalon.

"Then... after I had stalled you for days and dodged answering your questions, after you had yet again been forced to seek answers on your own, when I finally deign to answer your questions, you call me by a name I have not heard, save once, in centuries: Grand-mère. I did not deserve that, Harry. You, and Cassandra, and Brian... you all deserved better from Nicholas and from me."

Harry and Ginny's fingers had entwined as Perenelle spoke. "Grand-mère, Ginny finally told me what she had meant by, 'To the gallows-foot--and after,' and she also gave me the words I need now. None of that--what didn't happen--matters now. What does matter is all that you have done, and all you are doing, and what we do from here. I love you, Grand-mère."

"And I love you, both of you, as if you were my own. And I have also come to love your sister, Harry, never more so than when I watched as she prepared to defend the two of you. It is a comfort to know that when I am gone, there will be those who will care for you as I have. But therein also lies a problem. She has asked me to help her, but I do not believe that you would approve. But I have said I would not betray your trust."

"What does she want?" Harry asked.

"Ginny, you told Harry about the encounter you had with Draco Malfoy at Hogwarts, didn't you?"

"Yes... Grand-mère," Ginny replied.

"Thank you, child," Perenelle said. "And I believe she said she had started to talk to you as well when Brian, Nicholas, and I interrupted the two of you the night we met Voldemort?"

"Yes... she asked why we all hated him... and I told her. Then she started to say something about the Sorting Hat, and that's when the three of you came in. I haven't had a chance to ask her about it again." Harry looked at Perenelle. "Did she tell you what it said?"

"Yes, and if you ask I will tell you, but I would rather you hear it first from her," Perenelle replied. "But to put it simply, while she believes what you and Hermione have told her, her experience does not match, and she wants to hear what he has to say. And I will volunteer this much--the Sorting Hat came just short of making this a quid pro quo for placing her in Gryffindor."

"But... but..." Harry objected.

"She is as stubborn as you are, Harry; perhaps more so, as she was making her own decisions for far longer. If she is set upon this course, I think it would be better if she were able to do it openly instead of attempting to conceal her actions. I have no doubt that she will try. But I will not help her against your wishes."

"Help her? How?"

"At present, she wishes to speak with him, and has asked me to help make that possible. Draco is staying at Hogwarts for the moment, and it would be simple enough for me to facilitate that, and to watch them closely. Otherwise, she may be forced to wait until school begins, and to do it on her own..."

"Talk to him... is that all?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Thus far, at least," Perenelle replied.

"What do you think, Grand-mère?" Harry couldn't think of any good alternatives.

"I will tell you what I told Jamie," Perenelle answered. "Brian believes that there is hope that Draco will choose not to follow Voldemort. Though we have discussed Draco Malfoy at some length, he has not offered any details. Severus also believes that Draco has not yet made a final choice. And Harry," Perenelle's voice softened, "Draco does owe Jamie a life debt, despite what he said. That is ancient and powerful magic. It could be that we interfere at our peril--or Jamie's."

"It sounds like you think she should go ahead," Ginny said.

"I believe that she will eventually, and that it would be wiser to accept that and ensure it is safe, and then let events play out for themselves," Perenelle said. "But as far as my involvement, I shall not do so against your wishes, Harry."

"If you put it like that... do what you think best, Grand-mère. I'll trust your judgment." Harry said. "Please try to get her to be careful. She doesn't know him like we do."

"I will, lapin. Now, I have taken far too much of your time. As I said earlier, youth is often wasted upon the young. But it need not be that way. He is all yours, Ginny. Good night, mes enfants aimés."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hi," Hermione said as she tried to casually walk into Ron's room. "All right, Ron?"

Ron carefully closed his book, now jacketed in a bright orange Flying with the Cannons cover, and set it aside. "I'm okay. You?"

Hermione sat on the bed as he moved aside to make room for her. "A little nervous, maybe. I'm sorry about earlier. You were just teasing, weren't you?"

"Yeah, mostly anyway. I just came on up because I didn't want to fight. We've done pretty well about that, you know."

"I know. I... I was hoping you'd be across the hall waiting for me."

"I wasn't really watching the time, I was just reading..."

"Ron, you've read that silly Cannons book a dozen times. And we've got a big day tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know, but there's no reason to worry about it tonight. Madame Flamel told me, 'Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof,' and I reckon that's spot on about tomorrow."

"What?"

"It means that there are enough problems to worry about today without worrying about tomorrow's. I had to ask, too. Anyway, there's nothing your Mum and Dad can say that will change how I feel. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, but..."

"No buts, ands, or maybes. We'll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. You started pretty early with Jamie this morning. How about we just relax tonight instead?"

"Shouldn't we do at least one more practice run? You've done okay, but..."

Ron shook his head. "Tomorrow. That way it'll be fresh." He held his wand up and pointed it dramatically. "Tomorrow... we who are about to die, we salute you! But tonight, in the calm before the storm, we should relax."

"Relax?" Hermione looked at him suspiciously.

"Yes. Do I have to spell it out for you? Relax. C-U-D-D-L-E."

"I thought you spelled it N-E-C-K or P-A-S-H," she said severely, but a smile lurked at the corners of her mouth.

"Even a Death Eater gets a last request."

"Oh, enough! Come on, let's go on across." Hermione said as she tugged at his hand.

"Stay here," Ron said quietly as he tugged back, his other hand tracing a quick pattern with his wand. Hermione slowly allowed him to draw her down beside him as the door closed. "And nothing else about tomorrow tonight!" He didn't give her a chance to respond.

Some indeterminate amount of time later, Ron's breathing gradually slowed and became deep and regular as he drifted off to sleep. Hermione, however, was wide awake as the apprehension that Ron had managed to hold at bay, at least for a few minutes, returned full force. She thought about returning to her own quarters; but to her own surprise, she wanted to stay here in this disorganized orange maelstrom that was Ron's room. If she had just brought a book, she could have read herself to sleep and maybe have forgotten about tomorrow... Her eyes flashed to the copy of Flying With The Cannons that Ron had placed on the table beside the bed earlier. "Why not?" she thought. I'm going to be putting up with orange décor for a long time. Maybe it'll at least get me sleepy.

There was something awkward about how the jacket fitted the book, but Hermione opened it to a random place near the middle. After reading for a few moments, she flipped several pages, read again, and then closed the book while pulling the jacket away. Hermione sat staring quietly at the title for several moments, then re-opened the book to where one of several pages had been folded in. She read for a short time; then, very carefully, she replaced the cover on the book and returned it to the table exactly as she had found it. She moved next to Ron and laid her head on his shoulder. There was little evidence that Hermione remained awake, other than the occasional jerk of her shoulders and the slowly expanding damp spot on Ron's shirt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I WILL DO NO SUCH THING!!!" she said, placing her hands firmly on her hips. "I can't believe the two of you would even suggest something like that. Do you have any idea how important this is to your brother? These aren't wizards, they're Muggles... they wouldn't even let Hermione have Madam Pomfrey fix her teeth. How could you even think such a thing?"

"But it would be perfect," George protested.

"And Hermione is growing up," Fred observed.

George looked thoughtful. "Well... out."

"It might even take some of the heat off Ronnikins..." Fred added.

"...If he could keep eyes front, anyway," George said. "Besides, it doesn't last that long."

"If either one of you as much as suggests it again..." Ginny glared at each twin in turn. "You know Madame Flamel has been teaching us?" They both nodded. "And you know what our combined Patronus looks like?" Again, two nods. She continued, calmly, "Would you like to see my dragon-bogey hex, with Harry helping? Up front and personal?"

"We just wanted to make sure..."

"...That things started on a light note, with a good laugh."

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Out with it. What else are you two planning?"

"Are you planning something, George?"

"Who, me? Are you planning something, Fred?"

"Who, me?"

"ENOUGH!!!" Ginny raised her wand, and held up her other hand, palm open, a few inches behind it. "I'm not Mum, and I'm not going to worm it out of you a bit at a time. Either you tell me now, or ELSE!"

Fred sniffed loudly. "Our baby sister... she's threatening us."

"No, you mean again. She's threatening us, again."

"And after we enchanted those unmentionables for her."

"And she never even used them like she said she would," George complained.

"I think one of them was really for her all along..."

"...Or maybe Harry."

"QUASSO!" Ginny watched as the twins literally began to shake before her. She let the spell continue for almost half of a minute before ending it. "Now, out with it!"

Fred and George exchanged a glance. "Hermione asked us to pick up something for Ron to wear in Muggle London," George explained. "She wanted some Muggle threads..."

"I can't see why. We could have gotten him some excellent Dragonhide for what we paid for those stuffy things," Fred said.

"What did you do to the clothes? Will they disappear? Change into rags? Transfigure him into a hedgehog?" Ginny demanded.

"Why... nothing." Fred smirked.

"We wouldn't do that after Hermione paid for them."

"But hey, those are all good ideas."

"Especially the..."

Ginny started to raise her wand again.

"Okay, okay, okay," George said, holding up his hands. "We splurged and got him a pair of shoes. A nice pair of oxfords."

"Shoes are lot easier to enchant than clothing, you know," Fred added. "They hold multiple charms much better."

"What... did... you... do... to... the... shoes?" Ginny pressed.

"Why... we just made sure they'd help Ron..."

"...Act like he always does."

"More of the same, you might say."

Ginny's wand hand twitched.

"These are Weasleys' Foot-In-Your-Mouth Oxfords," George explained proudly. "No matter what you say, the shoe will end up in your mouth."

"The only thing we were worried about was that Ron might not even realize we got him."

Ginny tried to not to grin. "Give me an example."

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I really like Hermione..." George said, mimicking Ron.

"...She's so easy," Fred added.

"Yes, Mr. Granger, I do want to marry Hermione one day..." George mimicked.

"...Soon, before everyone knows she's in the pudding club," Fred concluded.

"No, you're not going to do this," Ginny said firmly. "Not with them going to the Grangers'. Hermione's parents won't understand. They'll get really upset, and it'll create a big mess. This is as important to Ron as... as Harry is to me. Even if you don't care what it might do to Ron and Hermione, Harry's depending on her too... where will either of them be if her parents rip her out of Hogwarts, or out of our world? How would you feel if that happened?"

"Um... are Muggles really that ..."

"...Grim?"

"You saw Harry's aunt and uncle," Ginny replied. "Now, if you did it here, or maybe at Harry's birthday party... that's something else. I might even help out then."

The twins muttered something about getting back to their shop, but Ginny insisted they tell her where they had left the shoes before she allowed them to leave. She watched as they walked back towards the kitchen; there would be time enough to retrieve the shoes after McGonagall's lesson. Glancing at her watch, she decided it wasn't worth going back to the kitchen, and turned to head towards the classroom instead, and almost walked into Molly.

"That was nicely done, dear." Molly pulled her youngest into a hug. "I really appreciate you looking out for Ron."

Ginny returned her hug. "You saw that? Why didn't you say something?"

"Why? You handled it magnificently, dear. I'm very proud of you. And don't worry about the shoes. I still have the things they left. I'll make sure there's a nice pair for Ron, and both Bill and I will go over everything very carefully."

"Thanks, Mum," Ginny said, as Molly started towards the kitchen. "Just don't tell Ron."

"Ginny?" Molly stopped and looked back towards her daughter. "Just what was it they enchanted for you?"

Harry, fortunately, chose that moment to round the corner. "Hi, Harry! Is it time for our lesson already?" Ginny then whispered to Molly, while nodding once towards Harry, "I'll tell you later, Mum. And don't throw them out, okay?"

"I'll think about it," Molly whispered back, as she headed towards the kitchen, hoping to intercept the twins before they departed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"A four-in-hand knot's okay for a school tie, but it just doesn't look right with that silk job," Bill said critically, as he looked Ron over. "You need a Windsor. It's a wider knot, and on a tie like that it will look more even, too. Here, let me show you." Bill undid the knot Ron had spent most of the last half-hour attempting to tease into looking halfway acceptable, and his hands moved fluidly as he wove the silk in front of Ron's neck. "There. How's that?"

Ron looked in the mirror, which said approvingly, "Much neater, dear."

"It looks good. Thanks, Bill," Ron said.

Bill turned towards Charlie. "What do you think? Is he presentable?"

"Mum did a good job fitting that suit. Ronnikins looks... well, almost respectable," Charlie replied. "Not like a Weasley at all. You know, that suit's good enough to get married in."

"Or buried in," Bill said, and then the two older Weasleys laughed. "Which is it gonna be, Ron?"

"I thought I'd save it for your wedding, Bill. When are you and Fleur going to set a date?" Ron asked, returning their grins.

"I thought I'd wait and see how it works out for Charlie," Bill replied.

"Keep me out of this, guys," Charlie said. "If you can change the subject that easily tonight, you've got nothing to worry about, li'l bro."

"Hermione says to let her do all the talking," Ron said. "Rumor says that worked out pretty well for Harry."

"Maybe so," Bill said, "but rumor also has it that Mum fought some of the early rounds of that one before either of them got involved. You may be dealing with two on one."

Ron shrugged. "It's not like I've got a lot of choice."

"You'll do okay," Bill said. "You'd better get moving. Chances are Hermione's already wearing a path in the kitchen floor." As Ron started towards the door, he added, "Hey, don't forget your gift."

Ron turned back and picked up a wrapped package. "Thanks, and thanks for picking it up for me, too, Bill."

Bill and Charlie accompanied him as far as the second floor, where they bade him good luck and turned down the hallway. Ron continued downward towards the kitchen and found Harry waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. "Ready?" Harry asked.

"As ready as I'm ever going to be, mate."

"You look good. Um, I didn't know if Hermione told you, though it looks like she did," Harry said, looking at the wrapped box Ron carried. "But anyway, I got this for you." Harry handed Ron a second wrapped package. I owled Colin and asked him to send me a copy of one of his best photos of Hermione. He sent back one of the two of you that he took last year, and it's really quite good. I think the Grangers will like it."

"Hermione didn't say anything, but I... er, I read about it. Bill picked up a crystal biscuit barrel for me to take... but this will be perfect. Thanks, mate."

"Read about it?" Harry asked dubiously, and then grinned. "She's rubbing off on you, mate."

Ron continued on to the kitchen with Harry at his side. There, Hermione was waiting, not pacing, but sitting at the table with Molly, Ginny, and Jamie. She was wearing a dress that she had described to him earlier as a lilac satin crepe--though it looked dark red to him--three-quarter-length gown with a trailing hemline. And she had used whatever potion she had used on her hair before the ball their fourth year. "Wow! You look... incredible."

"You scrub up pretty well, too." Hermione said, smiling. "We'd better get going. It's almost time."

"Listen, kids, keep your eyes open. Remus and Chris will both be nearby, but just because things have been quiet and there's supposedly a truce..." Molly said.

"We know, we know, CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Ron said. He looked at Hermione. "Sure you wouldn't rather take on Voldemort tonight instead?"

"You're awful," Hermione said, as she wobbled to her feet unsteadily and grasped Ron's arm. "Sorry, I don't wear heels often. I made a Portkey that will take us near the front door, but we should be out of sight from the street. Ready?" She held out a key ring.

Ron placed a finger on the Portkey and felt the familiar yank behind his navel. A moment later, they were standing on the porch outside of a brick home. Hermione took three steps towards the door with Ron trailing, and rang the bell. "Here goes nothing," she said.

"Let's hope."

The door swung open, and a moment later Hermione was hugging her mother while Ron stood back waiting. When their embrace ended, Ron stepped forward and offered his hand. "Good evening, Dr. Granger."

"Hello, Ron. It's nice to see you again. And the two of you look so nice. I'm sorry I didn't say casual in my note; Hermione should have known better." Dr. Granger was wearing jeans and a polo shirt.

"Quite all right, ma'am. Um, for you and Dr. Granger," he said, handing over the two wrapped presents.

"Why, thank you, Ron. Hermione's father will be down in a few moments. Hermione, why don't you show Ron to the dining.... Oh, my! What's this?" She was staring at the ring on Hermione's left hand.

Hermione held the ring up for her mother's inspection. "It... it's certainly... certainly a lovely ring. Er, Hermione, please show Ron to the dining room. I'll finish up, and we'll be along in just a moment.

Hermione motioned for Ron to follow her while her mother disappeared into another part of the house. "At least now we know they know," Hermione whispered.

"Your Mum didn't look very happy."

"If nothing else, now they'll have to shuffle their agenda for tonight," Hermione said with a hint of a smile. "At least there shouldn't be any more surprises."

"Let's hope."

Hermione suggested they sit, but Ron insisted they wait for her parents. It turned out to be more than just a moment.

When the Grangers finally entered, carrying the last few items, Hermione hugged her father, who was also dressed casually, and then Ron shook hands with him. Nothing was said, but Ron could see him looking intently at the ring on Hermione's finger.

They sat down and tucked in. Hermione seemed comfortable enough, chatting casually with her parents, but Ron felt an underlying tension in the room that built as the meal progressed. Hermione kept bringing him into the conversation; like Hermione, her mother seemed comfortable enough engaging in small talk, but her father responded with only a word or two at a time and avoided looking towards either of the young people.

After Hermione's mother served dessert--a delicious sticky toffee pudding--Hermione whispered something to her. She responded, "You're quite right," and then left the table. She returned a few moments later with the two gifts Ron had brought. She handed the package with the photograph to her husband, who took it reluctantly. She opened the box with the crystal biscuit barrel. "Why, it's lovely, Ron. But really, it's too much."

"My pleasure, ma'am." Ron replied as Hermione beamed at him. "I hope you like it."

"Open the other one, Dad," Hermione said.

"You go ahead," he said, still not looking at Hermione, as he handed the package to her mother. She exchanged a look with her husband, and then took the package from him and unwrapped it. "Look, dear, this is really quite good. Thank you, Ron. We have dozens of pictures of Hermione when she was in school before Hogwarts, but very few since."

"You're very welcome, ma'am."

There was an awkward silence while the Grangers exchanged another long look. Finally, Hermione's mother said, "Hermione, dear, we have some new clothes for you in your room. Would you go and try them on? It shouldn't take you more than fifteen minutes. And in the meantime we'll get to know Ron a little better."

"Mum, that's not going to work. You're not going to get rid of me and then gang up on Ron."

"Hermione," her father began, and then paused, looking at directly at his daughter for the first time since they had sat down. "We've heard a number of things in the last two weeks. Some of them, frankly, were almost beyond belief... and the most charitable conclusion your mother and I can reach is that you have been less than completely honest with us. And then tonight, you show up here with... with a ring on your finger that looks like it cost over five thousand pounds. I think we're entitled to some answers, and for this once, it's not going to happen the way you've planned it out. We need to talk to this young man--alone."

"I'm not going..."

"Hermione," Ron interrupted. "Go. We'll be fine."

"Ron..."

"Go and try on your things," Ron insisted. "Please."

"But..."

"Go!" Ron said firmly.

Hermione stood up, again unsteady on the unaccustomed heels, and then walked from the room. Ron suspected--and apparently her Mother did as well, as she kept glancing at the door--that Hermione had not gone beyond earshot, but her father, after watching her walk from the room, turned towards him.

"Ron..." Hermione's mother said, "I'm sorry this is such an uncomfortable situation, but... we simply have no other choice."

"And while were given to understand you and our daughter had... had established a... relationship, the ring was a surprise... more than a surprise." Her father paused for a moment. "I don't mean this to sound like a cheap melodrama, but I'm afraid I need to ask you: what are you... your intentions regarding Hermione?"

"Dr. Granger, I... I care a great deal for Hermione. You know we became friends our first year, and... and it's become more than just friendship. I... I love your daughter, sir. When I picked the ring, I picked a ring that didn't have a diamond as a center stone. It's a sapphire, her birthstone. I told her she could call it a friendship ring, or whatever she wanted. But, sir, I made my intent clear: I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

"I'm sure you believe you're sincere, Ron, but what can a sixteen year old really know about love?" Hermione's mother asked. "Or about a lifetime commitment?"

"More to the point, young man," her father asked, "how could you support her? You're what, sixteen? seventeen? How could you even begin to afford a ring like that?"

"I'm sixteen, sir. The ring is real. I... er... don't want to brag, but it cost quite a bit more than five thousand pounds. Not that that makes it worthy of a girl like your daughter, but it was the best the shop had... and I didn't want to wait. I know I'm only sixteen, and that we both have two years of school left, but I do have almost 247,000 Galleons in Gringotts... that's about a million pounds in Muggle money. I know that will get us started; and after we finish school, I'll certainly work. And, ma'am, I may not know much about love, or much about anything, but I do know this: I do love Hermione. She was hurt several days ago. Badly hurt..."

"RON!!!" Hermione ran back into the room, her face white. "What the hell are you saying?"

"Hermione, I'm not going to lie to your parents or hide anything. Not about us, or what we've done. It's way too important." His eyes met hers. "Trust me, Hermione." Then he turned back towards her parents. "Ma'am, Hermione was hurt a few days ago, pretty badly hurt. I... I knew before that how I felt about her, but I kept putting off telling her. I knew she liked me, but I didn't know how she'd feel about taking it further. She was so important to me that having what I had was so important, I... I was afraid to risk it, even for something more.

"I was wrong, Dr. Granger... and er, Dr. Granger. I was afraid I'd never have a chance to tell her what I felt, how much she meant to me. And after she was okay... I didn't wait any longer. And maybe I don't know much about love, or anything else, but I do know this. Your daughter is the most important thing in the world to me. I'd give my life and everything I have for her."

"Mum, Dad," Hermione said, as she went to stand beside Ron, "When I was hurt--it was a subdural hematoma--and I was in a coma, Ron didn't leave my side. He stayed beside me and kept on talking to me, begging me to come back. Mum--I followed his voice back. I... I'm not sure I'd have found my way back without him." Her voice became soft. "I... I'm not sure I could have found my way back... without him. I... I almost gave up."

Both elder Grangers sat quietly for several moments before her father said, "Even... if this is true... wouldn't Hermione be much safer here, away from all this... this... magic? Away from the magical world?"

"No, sir," Ron said. "No... not in the end. If it would make her safe, I'd leave her here and walk out your door and not look back. This... this is kind of hard to explain... it's hard to know where to begin... but there is a war underway in our world, sir, ma'am. Voldemort is an evil wizard, one who wants to rule everything and everyone. He hates people like Hermione, who are Muggle born. She'd be in danger no matter where she was. And it's not only our world; the conflicts that begin there can and do spill over into yours. The last time this happened, you called it World War Two, and a man named Himmler... no, it was Hitler who was the leader. But he was only the front man for a dark wizard named Grindelwald. And Voldemort is thought by a lot of people to be even a greater threat." Ron described Voldemort's first rise to power, how Harry as an infant had defeated him, and how he had returned in their fourth year.

"Does that mean that you... and that Hermione... are somehow mixed up in all this?" her mother asked.

"Yes, ma'am. We are. It was Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, who defeated Grindelwald in 1945. And... you've met our friend Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Yes," her mother replied. "And Hermione has talked incessantly about both of you any time--which hasn't been very much of late--that she has been home. But I don't understand..."

"Mum," Hermione said, "Harry... Harry is fated to face Voldemort. This is hard to explain, but he's the only one who has a chance to defeat him." She continued on for some time, explaining as much as she could without revealing the details of any of the prophecies or anything about the Order.

"And we're his friends," Ron added. "And Hermione is not only the smartest witch in our year, but one of the smartest ever to come through Hogwarts. Harry's said several times he's depending on her to figure out how he can defeat Voldemort. He can't do it alone."

"But... you're... all just children," her mother objected.

"Yes," Ron said, "And I know that makes it hard, particularly since your world has become so different from ours. Even two or three hundred years ago in your world, it wouldn't be strange for two people of our age to be together, or seriously considering it... or to be on our own, and making our own decisions. I know we're considered years away from being ready for that in your world today."

The two dentists exchanged a long look, and finally Hermione's mother said, "I'm... I'm sorry, but I need to talk to your father, Hermione. Will the two of you excuse us?"

"Certainly, Mum."

"Certainly, sir, ma'am."

"Just have a seat in the parlor," her mother said. "We'll try not to be too long."

After the elder Grangers had walked from the room, Hermione turned to Ron and asked dejectedly, "Just what did you think you were doing, telling them all of that?"

"They already knew you were weren't leveling with them. Did you expect them to be thrilled about us--or about any of it--if I did the same thing?"

Hermione looked startled. "Um... maybe not... but now I'm not sure what they'll do."

"They'll do what they have to... and we will, too. Don't worry. Let's clean up while we wait," Ron said. "But you'll have to tell me what to do."

They worked together with little conversation other than Hermione giving directions as they cleared the table and washed up. Despite what he had said, Ron found himself worried, both by Hermione's subdued manner and by the uncertainty she clearly felt. Maybe it would have been better if I hadn't spoken up quite so soon, and had given her more of a chance, he thought. After all, they were her parents. Still, even if the worst came to pass, they couldn't keep her here... at least past her seventeenth birthday. But if it came to that, it wouldn't be good for any of them; they clearly were concerned about their daughter, and Hermione loved her parents. I probably should have talked to them before giving Hermione the ring. Mum was right; I do need to spend some time getting to know them, not just show up and then turn everything upside down.

By the time they had finished, Hermione's parents still had not returned. Hermione motioned for Ron to follow, and she led him to a formal sitting room near the front door where they had come in. The room had two chairs, a loveseat, and a sofa; here, Ron took Hermione's arm and guided her towards the sofa. Hermione sat down, and then Ron moved to the other end of the sofa before settling onto the cushions.

"Why didn't you let me handle them?" Hermione asked quietly. "It's only two more months until I'll be seventeen. After that, it wouldn't matter. All we had to do is maintain the status quo."

"Then why didn't you take off the ring? You could have still brought it and showed them if they'd heard something, if they'd asked."

"I... I thought it would be worse, if they had found out."

"In other words, they'd have been unhappy if they thought you had been hiding something?"

Hermione's face fell. "I've really screwed everything up, haven't I?"

"I think deep down, you really wanted them to know."

"I don't like hiding things from them. I never have. It all started because I didn't want them worrying about me... or second-guessing about letting me go to Hogwarts. But since fourth year, there have been things I couldn't tell them without putting them in danger, too." She sighed. "And we used to be so close. Now it's like we're almost strangers."

"I know how you really feel about them. That's the only way you could keep it up, wasn't it? Staying away? With the Floo there, you or even both of us could have come here almost any time."

Hermione looked down for several moments. When she finally met Ron's eyes again, he could see she was close to tears. "I know... but I couldn't. I didn't know how... how to come back here again. I thought if you were with me, maybe they wouldn't force the issue... but now..."

"What matters is, did you want to? Or would you rather have kept going on like we were?"

"No... I wanted to come home. I want it to be... to be like it... used to be."

"Then I think I did the right thing. Keeping things as they were would just make it harder for you later."

"I... I saw what you were reading."

"Then you know how important tonight was to me. I wanted to do everything right. And above all, I didn't want to mess things up."

"I've already messed things up. Really messed them up."

"No, we both did. I should have talked to your parents first, or at least we should have talked to them the next day."

"It started way before that," Hermione said, shaking her head.

"Then... let me help."

"You already have," Hermione's mother said from the doorway, as she and Hermione's father entered the room and sat down opposite them. "I'm sorry, but we arrived just after you did."

"You listened?" Hermione asked, staring at the floor.

Both of her parents nodded, and her mother asked, "How far did you get when we asked you to look at your clothes?"

"About a foot outside the door," Hermione replied, still looking down.

"When we left earlier, we weren't quite sure what to believe. Now... now there are still some questions we need to ask. Hermione?" She waited until Hermione finally looked up. "Ron told us how he... felt, about you. I know what you said about him staying beside you... but I want to know the truth about how you feel, that it's more than just a sense of obligation."

"Mum, I... I do love Ron. I... I was too proud, too stubborn... to tell him first. When... when I was hurt, I could still hear everything that went on around me. Ron didn't leave me, not once, for several days. The healers, the doctors, had told him that talking to me could help, and that's what he did. About anything and everything. They even got my OWL scores and he told me over and over how I'd done. But most of the time, what he said over and over was 'I love you'. That's why I had to find a way back. That's what I'd wanted more than anything else, and I had to tell him that I loved him too. I said that back to him over and over and over; and finally, it came out and he heard me. I've not stopped saying it since."

"Hermione?" This time her father waited for her to return his gaze. "Do you want us to be involved in your life? Or would you rather vanish completely into your magical world?"

"Daddy... you said you listened. I... I wanted to come home. I just didn't know how. It... everything just snowballed. I love you and Mum. I'm sorry." Hermione bowed her head and dabbed at her eyes.

Ron exchanged a look with each of Hermione's parents before moving across the sofa to sit next to her. "Hermione thinks the world of both of you. I don't think she could imagine you not being part of her--and our--lives."

"That leaves the question of where do we go from here," her father said. "You've told us a lot tonight; still, I feel like there's a lot more."

"We scratched the surface, sir. And we didn't tell you everything. Some of it's not ours to tell, and there are other details we shouldn't tell, at least until you know enough of the background to understand what's involved."

Dr. Granger nodded, and then he said, "Even so, Adelaide and I have a great deal to talk about and absorb. But we do want to understand, and we do want to be part of our daughter's life. Hermione... Hermione is our only child."

"That's what I want, too, sir." Ron said.

"We've been quite unfair to you, Ron," Hermione's mother said, "and you've been very gracious under fire. Will you give us a chance to make it up to you? We'll still have lots of questions, but not like this."

"Certainly, ma'am. I'd be honored."

"Also," she said, looking hesitant, "Harry's name came up over and over in what you told us at the table. Do you... do you think that he might be willing to join us as well?"

"You should ask Ginny, too, Mum," Hermione said. She still had not looked up. "She's Ron's sister. She and Harry are... together, and she's involved as well."

"And I think they would come," Ron said.

"Perhaps if you could all come over Saturday afternoon?" she asked. "Nothing fancy, come casual--like you should have tonight. We can grill something outside..."

"Can we let you know tomorrow?" Ron asked. "I'm not aware of any reason why we can't, but I'd rather not commit without asking first."

"Certainly," she replied. "I... think that Roger and I are going to retire for the night. You're both welcome to stay as long as you'd like."

The two older Grangers stood up; but Hermione said, "Please, wait," as Ron rose and then helped her to her feet. She crossed the short distance to her mother, and they embraced.

Finally Hermione stepped back, still a bit wobbly. "Next time, dear, wear some sensible shoes," her mother said, smiling. "You look good in those, but you need to start off with something that's not quite so high and narrow."

"I will, Mum," Hermione said, as she turned to hug her father.

"You're always welcome here, honey," he said. "You, and any of your friends."

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"It's okay, honey. We'll work it out."

Ron had taken her mother's hand. "Thank you for dinner, Dr. Granger. It was a delicious meal. Your dessert was wonderful."

"And thank you for coming, Ron. And I promise that next time, you won't be the main course."

Ron held out his hand to Hermione's father. "Thank you, sir."

"No. Thank you, Ron," he replied. "Thank you... for bringing Hermione home."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Theeeey're back!!!" Ginny announced, somewhat unnecessarily, to Harry and Jamie who were waiting with her around the kitchen table. "And Ron seems to have..." Ginny's voice trailed off as she took in the expressions on both Ron's and Hermione's faces. They were both still dressed as they were when they had left, other than that Hermione was in her stocking feet and carrying her shoes. They both looked exhausted, particularly Hermione, who just stood there like a wilted flower, staring at the floor. Harry thought that she had been crying; he could see tear tracks on what was left of her makeup.

"Are you two all right?" Harry asked, concerned.

Ron nodded. "It was a little intense, but we're both okay--and I think everything is going to be all right." He glanced worriedly towards Hermione. "But it was a little rough on Hermione. I think we'll go on up." As he guided Hermione towards the door, he looked back towards Harry and mouthed, "We need to talk," then jerked his head upwards.

Harry nodded back as Ron led Hermione towards the door. He waited until they should be well out of earshot and said quietly. "Hermione looked pretty ragged, even worse than the week before OWLs."

"Hermione has worried about this ever since the letter came," Ginny observed, "but she wouldn't talk much about it."

"At least they let her come back here," Harry said. "They haven't seen much of her the last two summers. I suppose it's no wonder they were upset."

"Could you imagine Mum under those circumstances?" Ginny asked, nodding.

"I think we'll know as soon as Hermione's asleep. Ron wants to talk."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"...and that's about it," Ron said, sighing. "After they left, Hermione tried to calm down, and then we came back here. I'm sorry you're getting pulled into the middle of all this, mate."

"Don't worry about it. I feel responsible, too, and at least I don't have to take the heat for what's on her finger." Harry grinned. "Besides, it sounds like it ended on a positive note."

"It took a lot out of Hermione. I've never seen her like that," Ron said.

"She doesn't like to be in a situation where she doesn't have the answer," Ginny observed.

"She as much as said that," Ron replied. "And that she had no idea what they would do."

"I think we should tell them as much as they want to know," Harry said firmly. "More harm than good has been done by all the cloak and dagger stuff, and with Hermione risking what she is, they have a right to know."

"But what will Dumble..." Ron started to object, before remembering that the Professor lay unconscious, two floors below.

"It doesn't matter," Harry replied. "This is my fight, not Dumbledore's, not the Order's. I need Hermione; I don't think it can be done without her... without all of you. If there's something I can do to make it easier on her, I will."

"It's not exactly the safest thing, you know," Ron observed.

"I know." Harry looked down for a moment before looking his friend in the eyes. "But could you imagine holding out on your Mum and Dad? It's not right to ask Hermione to do that. We can talk it over with her first, if you want to, but I believe that telling them is the right thing to do. The last thing I want to do is make Hermione into an orphan while her parents are still alive... That... that..." He stopped for a moment, took a deep breath and swallowed. "That her father actually came out and asked her if she still wanted them to be part of her life... that really hurts. We all know how she feels about them. And it wouldn't have been like that if wasn't for her being so wrapped up in helping me."

"Then just let whatever happens Saturday happen," Ron said. "If she brings it up, talk to her; but otherwise, Saturday will be soon enough."

"Am I supposed to go with you?" Jamie asked.

Ron looked startled for a moment, and then nodded firmly. "Yes, all of us." He grinned. "It's a package deal."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you awake, ma chère fille?" Perenelle called softly.

Jamie stirred and opened her eyes. "I... I think so."

"Hermione will not be meeting with you this morning, though not by her choosing. I have undertaken to see that she should get some additional rest this morning. And I thought perhaps you might join me for breakfast instead--at Hogwarts."

"You mean...?"

"Yes, Master Malfoy is of the habit of taking his breakfast around eight half. He usually arrives after the few others who partake of the morning meal have finished; thus, he often dines alone. It was my thought this would, perhaps, provide the opportunity you sought."

"With Harry's approval?" Jamie asked, a little bitterly.

Perenelle walked across the room and sat on the bed. "Harry is concerned for your safety, and objectively, his concerns are not misplaced. The Malfoy family has long been associated with the dark forces, and Draco's father is a trusted and high-ranking follower of Voldemort. Even so, Harry has not attempted to prevent this, but instead, has asked that if this is what you want, that I make it as safe as possible. He is not attempting stop you, chérie, but acting as a brother should - with concern." Perenelle grinned. "And I have also advised him that you are at least as stubborn as he is, and even more accustomed to having your own way. He has yielded graciously, with your safety his foremost concern. You should not harbor any resentment."

Jamie sighed. "I'm not used to..."

Perenelle nodded. "Family can be a two-edged sword at times, but consider what you have gained against the costs."

Jamie looked thoughtful for several moments. "I guess you're right, and I'm being silly."

"Once it is the three of us, I will leave first; but understand, mon petit chou, that I shall be both watching and listening. And should you become the least bit uncomfortable, do not hesitate to end the conversation. And I would like for you to wear this." Perenelle held out what appeared to be a plain silver ring.

"It's more than just a ring, isn't it?"

"Indeed. It is a Portkey block. As long as it is on your finger, you will be immune to Portkeys. Will you wear it?"

"Okay. But... but I still think... think you might be wrong."

"Child, I hope that we are. But in truth, it may be that we are right--at least until we account for you. A rudder is a very small part of a ship, but over time and distance, this small part can change the direction of even the largest vessel. But also bear in mind that this lad is heavily weighed by his own traditions and beliefs and is already well within the orbit of Voldemort."

"I'll be careful. And thanks."

"I shall meet you downstairs? Shall we say twenty minutes?"

"Okay. And thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wow, you scrub up pretty good, too," Ron said, as Jamie entered the kitchen. "That's a nice dress. What's the occasion?"

Jamie blushed and tossed her hair. She was a bit surprised to see him there; he usually came downstairs about the time she and Hermione were ending their session. "I just felt like wearing a dress after your Mum was nice enough to help me. No special occasion."

"Are you ready, Jamie?" Perenelle said as she stood and carried a teacup to the sink. "Put the ring in your pocket until we're there."

Jamie nodded, removed the silver ring, and placed a finger on the key ring Perenelle extended.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco had watched her closely since she and Madame Flamel had entered the Great Hall. He had tried to do so covertly, from the corners of his eyes, and had immediately averted his gaze when she or Madame Flamel looked anywhere in his general direction, but his interest was obvious to Jamie. By her standards, he wasn't particularly good at this sort of thing.

Finally Madame Flamel stood up and said something about needing to get a book from her quarters and picking up a potion from the hospital wing. She asked Jamie to wait there, and they would begin when she returned. Jamie nodded quietly, and two pairs of eyes tracked Perenelle Flamel as she walked from the Great Hall. As the door closed behind Perenelle, Jamie looked down for a few moments, and then quickly looked up, catching Draco obviously staring at her. She matched his gaze for several seconds, and then said, "You wanted to talk, Draco. Now's your chance."

Draco smirked briefly, and then drawled, "Offhand, I'd have to say the change in your... er, circumstances, shall we say, has agreed with you. But will the Potties and the Weasels approve of your conversing with the likes of me?"

"If they don't, that's their problem. But if you're worried about them doing something to you, I'll tell them it was me who started talking to you. I know none of you are friends."

"That... that is not necessary." Draco recovered from his surprise, and the smirk returned. "But why do you say we are not friends? We have all had a long... a very long... association here at Hogwarts."

"I've heard a lot of stories, Draco. About you, about your family, about your homies."

"Homies?" Draco asked, puzzled.

"You know, homeboys, the two goobers you hang out with. And since just about everything else I've been told has been true..." She let the implication hang there for a moment. "There's just one thing that doesn't fit. Why did you help me?"

He just looked at her for a long moment, without even a trace of his trademark smirk. "Why did you help me?"

She returned his gaze. "At first, I guess it was because I thought you were like me--stuck on the streets and in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then I thought you were a clueless rich kid, out in the 'hood where you had no business being at all, especially at night. Those bros would have cheerfully strung your lily-white ass up, you know. You were lucky that knife didn't end up between your ribs."

"If I had had my wand..."

"You'd what? You'd have handed me over to Voldemort?"

"Do not say his name!" Draco hissed. "And no... I had my own issues to deal with." The smirk returned. "There were too many who were too eager to take credit for finding you."

"And you wanted to make sure you got the credit?"

"No." Draco looked at her intently. "No, I just did not want to get caught in the crossfire, and the safest thing was to keep you away from all of them."

"What's a life-debt?"

Draco mumbled something.

"What's that?" Jamie pressed.

"Yeah, there was that, too." Draco looked at her sullenly. "That is ancient magic. Even my father would hesitate..."

"But what does it mean?"

"You must have some idea or you would not be asking." Draco seemed to be growing frustrated.

"I've asked several people... including Professor Flamel, Madame Flamel, and Professor Snape. But I want to know what it means to you."

"When one wizard saves another... it creates a... a link between them. It is hard to put into words, but it is something very few would even attempt to cross. Even trying can be dangerous because whatever you do can rebound. Unpleasantly."

"And what did you mean when you said all debts are paid?" Jamie looked at him steadily.

"You... helped me, I helped you. I did not take you to my father; when Potty showed up, I did not stand in the way of your making a huge mistake and going off with him. We're even."

"You think that makes us even?" Jamie's gaze did not waiver.

"If you would just acknowledge it..."

"Ah. So it's something from me that you want."

"No...um, Yes. Is that so much to ask?"

"What, exactly, is it that you want, Draco?"

"An acknowledgement that we are even: that I do not owe you, and you do not owe me. I do not wish to be beholden to a Potter."

"What's the rest of it, Draco?"

"It does not matter."

"It does to me. And besides, I really don't think we're even. What risks did you take? When your daddy showed up, you tucked your tail between your legs and ran like a whipped dog. And I learned a long time ago not to buy a pig in a poke."

"A pig in a what?"

"It means something I can't see. You wanna lay all your cards on the table?"

"My motivations are not any of your concern."

"When they impact me--or my family--they damned well do concern me. You weren't like this that night. What's changed?"

"I did not know who you were then."

"You said something about Potter as soon as you got a good look at me. You knew before I did. I didn't know who you were or anything about you. That didn't make a difference to me. Why does make a difference to you now?"

"It is... complicated."

"I'm listening."

Draco shook his head. "No matter what you have been told, you have barely been introduced to our world. You could not possibly understand. You know none of the history."

"Then tell me."

"My path was set before you were even born."

"And you're marching along like a wind-up toy? Doing what you're told? Never thinking for yourself?"

"No!" Draco's eyes flashed for a moment; then he said, "That you are here is proof of that."

"Is this path--is it what you want? Really?"

Draco did not answer.

"Then let me help," she offered.

"That's easy. Acknowledge that all debts are paid."

"Do you think that my saying it, when it is not true, would change anything?"

"Then name your price," Draco challenged. "What would make us even?"

"My price?"

"What do you want from me?"

"I'll have to think about that."

"I can offer more than you can imagine."

"I'll think about it. We'll talk again... soon."

"I'd rather..."

"Jamie, are you ready?" Perenelle called, as she opened one of the doors.

"Soon," Jamie said, looking at Draco. Then she rose and followed Madame Flamel out of the Great Hall.