Stormy Weather

Hermione selected a few samples of breakfast and nibbled them lightly. On either side of her, Harry and Ron were wolfing down food as if there were no tomorrow, or no lunch. She glanced at them curiously. "What is it? Quidditch game today?" She'd lost track of time since her captivity and rescue.

"Against Ravenclaw." Ron reported, swallowing several more bites. "It's going to be an easy win. Lisa Turpin's no match for Harry, and their Chasers...well, they need work." He didn't even bother mentioning the Ravenclaw Keeper. He knew his opposite number had nothing on him.

Hermione nodded slightly. "Good luck."

"Bet you're glad about not having to choose which side to cheer on today." Ron shoved more food down his throat, almost not bothering to chew. Hermione shot a dark look at him.

"Well, if you're going to take that attitude, I hope Ravenclaw wins!" She snapped, grabbing her bag of books and storming out of the Great Hall.

"Good going, Ron!" Ginny snapped at her brother. "You did it again!"

Ron shook his head. "What?? I was serious!" How could she have gotten mad about what he'd said? What had he said that was so wrong?

"That could be the point," Harry told him. Ron shook his head again. Was this a girl thing? No, Harry understood it. Why didn't they teach girls at Hogwarts?

He shook his head furiously. "Yeah, I guess I can't even try to be nice to her anymore, because I'm obviously just trying to cover up for being a jerk!"

"Not that." Ginny tried to correct him. "Hermione's not used to you being serious."

"Whatever." Ron grabbed his bag of books and headed out the Great Hall swiftly. He spied Hermione not that far away and stalked over there, wanting to say something, needing to say something to vent. "If falling in love means you stop thinking altogether, I'm glad I'm not in love with you!"

He stalked on towards the Quidditch pitch, wanting to get a few quick rounds of flight in before the game. There was an interruption waiting, however: one by the name of Draco Malfoy.

"What the hell did you say to Hermione?" The Slytherin asked harshly, his gray eyes alive with a terrible kind of anger.

Ron tried to push the other boy away, but to no avail. "That I was glad she didn't have to pick who to cheer on in the game today, because I know I wouldn't know who to be happy for if I were dating someone in a different House!"

Draco stepped back slightly. "And she got upset because of that?" He seemed as confused about it as Ron himself was.

"Apparently falling in love means all your brains dribble out of your head!" The redhead snapped. This idiot was the cause of everything! If he hadn't been born, Hermione wouldn't be acting like a simple wish of good luck was the kiss of death!

"Not really." Draco shook his head thoughtfully. "It could be what happened to her while we were being held captive."

Ron snorted. That had to rank in the top ten stupidest things he'd ever heard. "I'm not exactly a mediwizard but I'm pretty sure that whatever happened out there didn't have a damned thing to do with who you cheer on at Quidditch."

"No," Draco agreed. "But you don't know the damage that Pomfrey is still trying to heal on her."

He started away, only to stop as Ron put a hand on his shoulder and yanked him back around. "Right. And apparently I don't deserve to find out because I'm just a jerk who has no feelings, right? I'm not a superrich secretly nice guy who is her destined soulmate!"

"Have you tried asking her what happened?"

Oh, this was rich. Look at Malfoy trying to be the 'better person'. "Why should I? She'd just claim I don't understand and you do." Ron glared into those pale disgusting eyes. "But if you ever hurt her, you die."

He yanked his hand off of the paler boy and stalked back to Gryffindor Tower; no longer feeling the slightest need or desire to be in the air. What the devil am I doing wrong here? He wasn't able to read minds, and Hermione had been draped over Malfoy like she was his own robes ever since Christmas. How was he supposed to know what they'd went through when she hadn't been bothered to tell anyone?

The fire in the common room flickered and snapped, a perfect match for his feelings. He was the only one there at the moment; everyone else was either still in the Great Hall or the library or wherever they went between classes and Quidditch. It felt a little nice to imagine both Hermione and Malfoy writhing in the depths of the flames as well. Just a little nice.

He heard the Fat Lady's portrait slide back, and someone clambered in. He didn't bother to look up and see whom it was; he had other things on his mind. "I'm sorry." It was Hermione.

"Sorry," Ron continued to stare into the fire. How could I have seen her in the potion if she's this much of a jerk? I know I don't have the best taste in the world but I think I could do better. "You're in the wrong common room. This is Gryffindor."

"I wanted to explain." Her voice shook slightly, the way it always did when she was upset. "But I guess you don't want it or the apology." She started by him to the steps that led to her own room, stumbling a little and catching herself on one of the chairs.

"No, I don't, because you don't mean either one of them." Ron snapped, a sort of dank chill rising inside of him as he twisted to look her in the face. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to talk to me anymore, Granger." The look that spasmed across her face tore into his heart, but he didn't care. She'd brought it on herself.

"If that's what you want." She made her way haltingly up to her room, shutting the door behind her firmly. Ron turned back to stare into the fire, a small smile of triumph evident. It wasn't every day he won an argument with Hermione.

She still looks kind of bad. I wonder what they did do to her. He wasn't ever going to forget seeing her the way he had in the hospital wing, so bandaged up he could hardly tell it was Hermione there in the first place. No way I'll know, even if she told me, she wouldn't tell me everything.

But there was a way he could find out. He didn't even think about it; he simply got up and headed out. McGonnagal's office was a quick jog through the halls, and in a few seconds he was knocking on the door. "Come in." Her familiar voice came from the other side.

"Professor?" He opened the door and came in, fighting back the familiar sense of dread that went with any student going into any teacher's office for any reason. "Can I talk to you?"

"Mr. Weasley." The Deputy Headmistress motioned briefly to a chair. "What can I do for you?"

Ron sat down and looked at his Head of House. I hope she can help me. "What happened to Hermione?"

McGonnagal studied him intently for a few moments before saying anything. He started to squirm in his seat a little from her regard, feeling as if he were eleven again and trying to convince her that the Philosopher's Stone was in danger. "She was whipped quite frequently, kicked enough to break three ribs, one of which nearly punctured her right lung, three of her fingers were broken, her left eye was burned slightly, she was afflicted with the Cruciatus Curse at least three times we can be certain of, and Madame Pomfrey is of the opinion that one or two other curses were applied that she is still working on fully reversing. Of course the emotional damage is something that can't even be spoken of, and which will take much longer to heal." There was a glint of something in her eyes, which if she'd been forty years younger, Ron might've thought was a tear. "Is there a reason you didn't ask this of Miss Granger?"

Ron had nothing at all against being honest, especially with McGonnagal. "I didn't think she'd tell me everything." He was almost certain Hermione herself didn't even know everything, too.

"I see. Is there something else?"

He nodded. "I want you to tell her that she's the new Gryffindor Keeper."

The corners of McGonnagal's mouth turned down slightly. "There's a problem with that. She is on the exhibition team for the parents' weekend, and as you well know, she cannot be on both."

That was easily solved, in his mind. "Then I'll play this game, and after the exhibition game she can have the spot. She wants it, anyway." He wasn't going to tell the Professor that he'd overheard Draco and Hermione talking Quidditch in the Hospital Wing. She wants to play Keeper, then she will. No problems there.

"Ask her before you do this." McGonnagal suggested. Ron wasn't having any of that, though.

"I already know she wants it, I heard her say it."

McGonnagal did not seem the slightest surprised by his stubbornness. "You may be surprised. At any rate, there is a scout coming to the Slytherin/Gryffindor game at the end of the year that's interested in you, not Miss Granger.

A scout??? Ron clenched his fists tightly. "A scout?"

"Oliver Wood arranged it, with Professor Dumbledore. Wood wants you to have his spot on the Puddlemere United team while he works on adjusting to his current condition." McGonnagal's lips pursed slightly at the mention of that. Oliver had been married only a year and a half when his wife had died giving birth to their only son. "He thinks that you'll be a good asset to it. Think about it, at least."

"All right." Ron sagged back slightly into the chair. Things seemed to be piling on top of him all of a sudden, and he had no way to deal with any of them. Was this how Percy had felt when he was in his final years? So completely out of his depth? No wonder he'd been such a pain half the time.

"I believe it's almost time for the Quidditch match, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps you should be going?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Professor." He slouched his way out of the office and down the hall. A scout. Great. Three hours ago he would have been out of his skin at the notion of playing professionally. Now, he couldn't care less. He plodded along, not caring where he put his feet as long as it had solid stone under it.

"Ooof!" He grunted as he slammed into someone, knocking them down and sending books spraying all over the hallway. "Sorry about that."

He took a better look at whom he'd just run into and groaned. This was turning into the number one worst day of his life. Something shiny gleamed near him and he picked it up. "You dropped this, Hermione."

"Throw it away," she started to pick her books up quickly. "I don't want it or need it or deserve it."

Ron shrugged as he began to help her. "That's up to you. I didn't think you were the type to let other people make choices for you, though. Gryffindors are supposed to be brave, not curl up and cry every time something bad happens to them. Guess that idiot thought he was capturing a couple of Slytherins...not a Slytherin and a Gryffindor." If she swallows that, I'm really going to see if she needs to go to Saint Mungo's.

"What good is being brave if one of my friends doesn't want to be my friend anymore?" A book slid from her shaking hands and he picked it up, putting it back on top of the pile.

"Funny, I always kind of thought people were brave for their own sake, not because any one person liked them or didn't like them. Does this mean you wouldn't be such a selfish brat anymore if you stopped hanging out with Malfoy?" Ron watched her carefully. He couldn't really see her face because of how much she was shaking; her hair kept getting in the way, but he was certain he was getting through to her, somehow. "The Hermione I know and care about makes up her own mind about things and doesn't let anything get in her way, even common sense. But we'll never know if you're the real Hermione still because you don't want to know things anymore. Even how to beat something as stupid as having the crap beaten out of you."

He carefully did the one thing he was almost sure would push her over the edge into what she really needed to do: vent. He stepped away from her.

Almost as soon as he did, she sagged against the wall, tears sliding down her cheeks in a torrent. Her books went tumbling once more as she wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth, sobbing her soul out. Ron hesitated just for a moment, then hurried back over to her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as they'd always held each other when things got rough.

No words were said or needed, but when they finally pulled apart, both of them knew that their friendship was just as strong as it had always been, if not stronger. "I should go." She finally hiccupped out. "I'm going to talk McGonnagal into letting me miss the game. We'll talk later." She shoved her books back into her satchel once more and headed down the way he had come.

Ron watched her go, shaking his head. She's always been kinda mental. But I do want to talk to her. He headed out to the changing area to get ready for the game, passing Malfoy along the way. The Slytherin held a roll of parchment in one hand, his cold eyes furious. Ron glanced at him a little. "Something wrong?"

"Where's Hermione?" Draco hissed, more emotion visible right now than Ron could really recall seeing in quite a while, even when Hermione had been hurt.

"I don't know." If they'd had a fight of some kind, Ron wasn't going to let him near his friend in her current condition. "Why?"

The Malfoy heir's glare was enough to peel paint all by itself. "None of your damned business, Weasley!"

"When it concerns my friends, it is." Ron told him coolly. Draco shrugged him off and stalked out towards the Quidditch pitch, obviously not intending on discussing the matter further.

"You better hurry and get ready, Ron. We're playing in just a few minutes!" Ron turned at the sound of his best friend's voice to see Harry and the rest of the team coming up behind him, everyone dressed and ready for action.

"I know." Ron hurried in to change, pulling on his scarlet robes as fast as he could. The familiar mixture of dread, anticipation, and the intense need to go to the bathroom threatened to overwhelm him as he fastened on his robes. I love feeling like this.

Once everyone was ready, they headed towards the pitch. Harry caught Ron's arm a little. "What's with Malfoy? He was acting like...like he used to. You don't think he and Hermione broke up, do you?"

"Maybe." Ron had no idea if he wanted this to have happened or not. He'd have to think about it. "Hermione was really upset earlier."

Harry nodded, taking in the looks on the rest of the team's faces. "Let's win this one for her, everyone." All seven of them nodded in agreement, and the Gryffindor Quidditch Team took to the air.

Ravenclaw was a good team, everyone knew that. But this particular team had been working together since Harry and Ron's fifth year, and they were a well-oiled and well-practiced unit. Bludgers were sent hurling away from those in scarlet and towards those in blue with almost fatal velocity at times. The Quaffle zipped by the Ravenclaw Keeper as if he wasn't even there. Harry and Lisa Turpin, the Revenclaw Seeker, soared by each other a few times, but neither saw the Snitch at the moment. Ron was keeping the goalposts safe and free of goals, knocking the Quaffle back frequently. It was a great game.

It was also one that Hermione wasn't there to see. Draco kept part of his attention on the game, and part of it on the Gryffindor stands, trying to see if she was there anywhere. What is with her? He clenched a piece of parchment tighter in his hand, then jerked suddenly as something small fluttered by him. A heartbeat later, Potter was floating almost in front of him, his hand clenched around the Golden Snitch.

"Sorry." The black-haired Seeker grinned a little at him, then flew off, the prize in his hand and the applause ringing out all around him. Draco had seen enough. If she's not here, she has to be in Gryffindor Tower. If she's not there, someone will know where she is.

He stalked his way inside and through the twisting corridors until he reached the portrait that hid the entrance to the Gryffindors' lofty little retreat. They were already on the way; he could hear them quite plainly, so he assumed a position of careless ease waiting for them. As the cheering group hustled up the hallway and towards him, one of them stopped and stared.

"What do you want?" It was Dean Thomas. After seven years of some shared classes, Draco had learned to recognize a few Gryffindors on sight, just by the pleasure of hearing Professor Snape take points off of them.

"If it's any of your business, I'd like to talk to Hermione." Draco drawled out lazily. Dean glowered at him suspiciously.

"Why?"

So much for the trusting Gryffindor theory. Draco rolled his eyes mentally. "That's between us. If she's in there, have her come out here. I have no intentions of going in there." He'd probably spontaneously combust at the combined nobility and self-sacrifice.

Dean leaned closer to the Fat Lady to whisper the password, keeping a wary eye on Draco the whole time. The group of them hurried in, leaving Draco out there the way he wanted to be: alone.

"Hermione?" Dean looked at his fellow seventh year where she was staring into the common room fire. "Someone's waiting for you outside."

She glanced up at him, her eyes red and puffy. "Who?"

She doesn't sound all that happy for someone whose boyfriend is out there. Maybe they're having problems? Dean didn't care for Malfoy one way or the other, but Hermione was his friend and housemate. If Draco hurt her in anyway, there would be Hell to pay. "Malfoy."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then headed out of the portrait opening. As soon as she could see him clearly, Draco held up the parchment. She recognized it easily. "I wish I hadn't sent that." She murmured quietly.

"Why did you?" He looked right at her, not paying attention to the return of the freshly showered and changed Quidditch team. Ron and Harry were in the lead, and they all stopped as soon as they saw the little play being acted out here.

She said nothing at first, then looked from Harry to Draco. "Wait here. I don't want to talk about it here." She walked over to Harry and tugged him a bit closer so only he could hear what she had to say. "Harry, I need to borrow something. I want to talk to Draco, but I can't do it here. I need your invisibility cloak."

Her friend looked at her for a moment, gauging what she'd said, then nodded slightly and quickly headed into the common room, the rest of the team following at his jerked head. A few moments later he was back out and held a small bundle out to her. "Take care of it, Hermione." She didn't have to be told why. Anything that was his family's, Harry treasured above his own life.

As the portrait swung back into place, leaving her and Draco the only ones there, she looked at him. "Your place or mine?"

"Mine." Besides, how could they get back into the Tower without arousing some kind of suspicion? She wrapped the cloak around herself firmly, making certain it covered everything.

"I'll be right behind you. Let's go." Together, one visible and one not, they headed for the dungeons.