Adamo Mortalis

Hermione finally got tired of falling in and out of an uneasy sleep at around 4:30 in the morning. She got up, made her bed, and lit a candle with which to read by, seeing as it was still dark outside. Pulling out her last years' Potions textbook and sitting down at the desk in the corner of the room, she began to search for "Pepperup Potion" in the index.

***

Just a few short rooms away, in the Leaky Cauldron's largest room, Draco Malfoy stirred in his sleep. The black silk sheets rustled smoothly around him, then quieted. His silver-blond hair contrasted perfectly against the dark pillow; even though he'd been unconscious for several hours, the scene appeared as if planned: his flawless, pale face wholly at peace, a creamy shoulder just peeking from beneath the silk, 300-thread-count sheets that were the traditional Malfoy shade.

Draco smiled, dreaming of the veelas that had danced at the Quidditch World Cup. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence. He emitted a little moaning noise, and the sound of his own voice woke him up. He rolled over, pulling the ebony sheet over his head, and his face was hidden. The faultless picture was ruined, and all that was visible was a few strands of luminous hair above the hem of the sheet.

***

Hermione began brewing a Pepperup Potion in her room in the Leaky Cauldron. She was a little tired, and distracted by thoughts of Harry and Ron--not the best mood for the specificity that was potion-concocting. Her fingers trembled with the phial of newt bile, and it fell and shattered on the floor. Muttering a few mild curses, she cleaned up the mess, then fumbled for her bathrobe and shoved her feet into some trainers, deciding to head down to the Leaky Cauldron restaurant for something to eat before continuing. She didn't glance in the mirror, but it murmured to her as she passed it. "Perhaps take a brush to those locks, dear."

Pursing her lips in frustration, Hermione slammed the door and immediately winced. She'd forgotten it was only just past five o'clock in the morning, and that she was staying with several other people that probably didn't wish to be awakened so early. Biting her lip, she began to make her way down the narrow hallway.

***

Draco jerked awake and his bed gave a reluctant sort of creak. He squinted at the expensive silver watch on his bedside table, and groaned when he saw it was still very early. He climbed out of bed, annoyed, wearing only a pair of striped pajama bottoms, preparing to tell off the person who'd stupidly made loud noise so early. Probably a Mudblood, he thought wryly to himself. I wish Father hadn't gotten those convention tickets at the last minute when all the nice hotels were full. This Leaky Cauldron place is so very . . . communal.

***

Startled by the opening of another door in the hallway, Hermione jumped back and nearly lost her balance. Draco Malfoy was standing less than a meter away from her, and he looked very, very annoyed.

"Granger," he growled, crossing his arms across his bare chest. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of him, but he seemed not to realize he was attractive (and shirtless.) "What are you doing here? And what the bloody hell are you doing at five in the morning?"

"I have every right to be here, just like you," she replied, standing up straighter so she was nearly as tall as he was. He seemed to have grown in the time since they'd been out of school. "I didn't mean to make noise. That was an accident."

"Preparing for school already?" he said, smirking. "Perhaps you should start with helping your little friends Potter and Weasley first. They don't seem to be doing so well in their classes."

"You should talk, Malfoy. You're not the pointiest wand in the school . . . if you know what I mean."

He narrowed his clear gray eyes at her. "Go to hell. At least I'm good-looking."

"And vain," she shot back icily. "Not to mention rude, dirty, and just plain mean."

He raised his eyebrows. "I simply tend to associate with the higher classes of people. Can't help it if I look out for myself. It could be worse - at least I don't follow around Potter like some boy-band groupie. It's all you're ever going to be - Harry Potter's second sidekick."

Tears rose to Hermione's eyes. She had never been so furious in her life. "Draco Malfoy--" she began, through clenched teeth.

He interrupted. "Did I mention that Longbottom might be a lot more useful for befriending? He probably thinks you're the best thing since the invention of the wand, since he hasn't got a mind of his own."

Hermione couldn't help it. She whipped her wand out of her bathrobe pocket and pointed it at him, yelling, "Stupefy!" She waited until he froze, then pushed him back in to his room and shut the door, trying not to notice that she had to touch his bare torso to do so.

***

Harry was dozing on the same couch Hermione had left him on the night before, although he woke up with a jerk when she arrived through the fireplace. Sunlight was shining through the single window, lighting the stubble on Harry's chin and jaw. He still looked exhausted.

"'Lo, 'Mione," Harry said thickly, propping his head on his hand. His clothes from the day before were now wrinkled, his hair messier than Hermione had previously thought possible, and his expression led her to believe that he'd slept as restlessly as she had, if not worse. There were wrinkles on his cheek from where he'd been laying on the couch.

Hermione's heart melted a little at the sight of him. It was obvious that this whole mess with Ron was wearing him out, and he wouldn't be able to stand it much longer.

Hermione knelt down by his side. "Harry. Look at me."

He did. Tears welled up in the back of her head when she looked into his clear green eyes, which were full of worry and weariness.

"You've got to go back to the Leaky Cauldron and get some sleep. We can't possibly do anything for Ron except wait, and you won't do him any good if he wakes up and you pass out. I want you too Floo powder yourself back to the Leaky Cauldron, take the Dreamless Sleep Potion I've concocted, and let your body get some rest. Then, I've also brewed a Pepperup Potion" - she pulled both phials out of her bag - "and you can take this and come back here and be awake enough to do something, all right? Listen to me: this is the best possible thing you can do for Ron."

Harry was too tired to care anymore. He nodded, which seemed like a great effort, and stood up, wobbly on legs that hadn't been used in too many hours. He took both glass containers from Hermione, who looked maddeningly fresh and clean. She led him over to the fireplace, even throwing the Floo powder for him, while he called, "Leaky Cauldron," and closed his eyes as he began to whirl around.

Harry fell out, rather undignified, on the floor of the Leaky Cauldron, but it was early enough in the morning still that not too many witches or wizards were up yet. He was dizzy from the spinning of the Floo network, and he had to take several seconds to regain his sense of balance after the trip.

Stumbling up the stairs and heading down the hallway, Harry thought he saw Draco Malfoy pass him, glaring at him. Convinced he must be imagining Draco through his exhaustion, Harry shook his head to clear it, which only had the effect of making it more muddled.

Later, he couldn't remember taking the Sleeping Draught, but he knew he must have. He hadn't eaten or drank anything in many hours, and felt rather ill, so the Dreamless Sleep Potion made him gag just a little bit, and he had to swallow back waves of nausea. Without even removing his glasses, he slumped over on the bed and fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

***

Hermione sat cross-legged on the couch in St. Mungo's and pulled out Practical Applications for Arithmancy, which she had purchased that morning before coming to send Harry away to get some rest. She was wearing a pretty flowered sundress with an unbuttoned white cardigan over it - both of which her mother had talked her in to buying before her trip. It was the first time Hermione had been truly out on her own for an extended period of time - she'd gone to stay at the Weasleys, and of course she lived at Hogwarts, but all of these times had been under adult supervision. She'd found, up until the day before, of course, that she rather enjoyed the responsibility - setting up her own schedule, choosing where to visit and when. Before Harry had shown up at Flourish and Blotts, she'd basically been planning to spend the day there, with a possible lunch break and some ice cream in the afternoon.

She was in the middle of reading a section entitled, "Arithmantical Calculations Used in Transfiguration," when two people Apparated into the room with a pop!, appearing to stand before Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley adjusted her sweater, then turned to Hermione. "You haven't been here all night, have you, dear?"

Hermione shook her head, sending her curls cascading around her shoulders. "Harry stayed. I just sent him back to the Leaky Cauldron a bit ago."

Mrs. Weasley clucked her tongue. "Oh, the poor thing! He must have been asleep on his feet."

Hermione smiled kindly. "Nearly. I'm sure he'll be fine after some rest."

"Have you heard anything about Ron?" Mrs. Weasley questioned, frowning.

Hermione bit her lip. "Nothing. They still won't let me in to see him, but . . ."

The Weasleys accepted this rather calmly. "Well, Hermione, dear, I see no reason that you need to stay, unless of course you want to," Mrs. Weasley told her gently. "We'll be here all day, and I'll send Arthur for you should there be any change."

Hermione thanked them, then gathered her books and left. The clouds from the previous day were all gone, and the sunlight was so strong it made her sneeze. She wandered around Diagon Alley for a bit, vacantly looking through some stores, fingering some merchandise with a preoccupied look. She wasn't quite sure what to do, with Harry asleep and Ron in the hospital and all of her errands in Diagon Alley done. She certainly had no intentions of leaving the area until something decisive happened with Ron, but was at a loss for what to occupy herself with.

Walking slowly back to the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione paid the desk clerk to use the fireplace for communication and called up the Burrow. She nearly laughed when the scene faded in and she caught Fred and George trying to spell open a drawer.

"Blasted thing's too strong," Fred muttered, tapping the drawer with the tip of his wand. "Honestly, it's only our experiments, not minions of You-Know-Who. You'd think Mum doesn't want us to stretch our creative powers to the fullest."

"Minions of You-Know-Who wouldn't fit in that drawer," George pointed out, slouching in a kitchen chair. "Oh, hello, Hermione. Any idea how to open this thing?"

Fred turned around and grinned upon spotting her in the fireplace. "How's Ron?" he asked, sobering a bit.

"Try Alohomora," Hermione suggested, then, "There hasn't been any change."

Fred tapped the drawer and said the incantation, and it hot open, spilling all sorts of treats on the floor. Fred and George's eyes lit up. Hermione just smiled at them, amused. "Could you go get Ginny for me?" she asked.

George, in the process of stuffing as many of their jokes and toys as he could into his pockets, nodded. "Just a minute," he said, as the twins managed to carry the whole lot out of the kitchen and begin tottering up the stairs. "I'll see if she's up for you."

Ginny appeared through the kitchen door momentarily and gave a weak smile upon seeing Hermione's head in the flames. "Hello," she said softly.

"Ginny. How are you feeling?" Hermione's eyes took in Ginny's appearance, from her disorderly hair to her pale lips. She still looked as if she'd been ill for a very long time.

"I'm all right," she said in the same quiet voice. "How's Ron?"

"They think he might be doing better," Hermione lied. "Harry's here, too, but he's in his room sleeping."

Ginny seemed to take this all in stride. "That's good."

Hermione nodded, and there was an awkward silence for a moment. An idea began to form in Hermione's mind, and she smiled a little, then cleared her throat to begin speaking. "Do you want to come to Diagon Alley? I'd really like something to do, and you should get out of the house. It'll be fun. We'll have a girls day."

Ginny looked startled, but Hermione was glad to see a hint of color rush into her white cheeks. "Are...are you sure? Is someone there with Ron?"

Hermione was touched by Ginny's concern for her brother. "Both of your parents. They're going to contact me right away if anything happens. Harry's asleep, and I don't have anything else to do, although I would like to stay in the area, in case Ron..." she let the sentence hang, but it seemed obligatory to finish it. Brightly she added, "In case Ron wakes up."

"I...I suppose," Ginny said hesitantly, and Hermione took this for a yes.

"All right, then. I'm going upstairs for a bit, but you can Floo powder yourself to the fireplace in the lobby whenever you're ready. I'm in room 213."

"All right," Ginny echoed faintly. "I'll be there."

***

Hermione correctly guessed the password for Harry's room ("Firebolt") after three tries and opened the door slowly to check on him. She had taken care to be quiet as possible in this procedure, but it proved needless: Harry lay quietly, breathing in a rhythmic patter, still fully dressed. Hermione tried to remember exactly how much powdered horn of bicorn she'd put in her Sleeping Draught; as she stood thinking, she flushed a little to realize that she might have been a little overzealous. Just as well, she decided, for now Harry could get all the rest he needed.

Satisfied with the thought that he probably wouldn't wake up were there an earthquake, she knelt down and began to untie the laces of his trainers. It was more difficult than she'd imagined: the laces were old and knotty, broken and retied in many spots. But, with care, she finished and pulled his shoes off, setting them on the floor. Harry's glasses were still perched on the bridge of his nose, sliding down just a little bit, so Hermione took them off and set them on his bedside table.

He still looked uncomfortable, even sleeping as hard as he was, so she firmly grasped his ankles and pulled him farther along the bed so he was laying in a more normal position. With care, she pulled the blanket he was sprawled on out from underneath him and draped it over him, and more securely stuffed a pillow beneath his head.

Finally satisfied that Harry was comfortable, Hermione stood up and looked at him for a moment, wondering why she cared so much to intrude on what would probably be considered his privacy just to come in and do something he'd probably never remember or appreciate. I don't want to think about the answer to that question, she thought, and, after lingering only another moment, resolutely shut the door behind her and left him alone.

***

Ginny took a shower and toweled her body off, slipping into a plain gray skirt and a white blouse. Even with the plain clothes, she thought, looking into the mirror, I still stand out because of my bloody red hair.

She sighed and began to pull a brush through her flame-colored ringlets. Tom. Tom liked my hair.

Ginny finished getting ready and figured she should tell someone she was leaving. Since her parents weren't home, she went and knocked on Charlie's door. He was home from Romania for a couple of weeks - he had said he was just taking a vacation, but Ginny suspected that he'd come back to make sure she was all right. Bill hadn't been able to get away, but Percy had been spending an unusual amount of time in the house and asked her how she was every couple of minutes.

Ginny really just wanted to be left alone.

She had stubbornly refused to tell anyone anything, and so the only reason her parents knew she was upset was the fact that she kept waking up screaming or crying from nightmares. Her brothers had been taking turns sleeping on her floor, so there would be someone to comfort and reassure her when she woke up, although she hardly let them. Her mother had been trying to get her to go shopping in Diagon Alley for weeks, and probably would be thrilled that Hermione had lured her out of the house. Ginny only hoped that Hermione would be distracted enough with her own problems so that she wouldn't try to pry in to Ginny's.

After some muttered curses and a mild thump, Charlie opened the door, looking tired, his short auburn hair mussed. "What?" he asked, a little crankily, as he pulled on the doorknob. His face softened a bit when he saw it was her. "Ginny? Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine," she replied, her voice steadier than it had been in weeks. "I just came to say that I'm going to Diagon Alley with Hermione for the day. I don't know when I'll be back."

Charlie grinned, and it eased the tiredness from his face, making him look younger. "What did she have to bribe you with? Mum's been trying to get you away for weeks."

Ginny smiled back weakly, though Charlie thought it was the best she'd looked since he'd been home. "Nothing. It just sounded fun to go with her, and...well, Mum and Dad are with Ron, and Harry's asleep, so..."

"Ah, so it's not the great Harry Potter that lured you out there," he teased. Ginny flushed to the roots of her hair. "I was only joking. Have a good time, sweetheart." He bent down to kiss her forehead. Although all of Ginny's brothers were somewhat overprotective, Charlie had a special soft spot for her, and although she pretended to hate it, sometimes she did secretly feel very loved. Spontaneously she flung her arms around his neck, standing on tip-toes to reach him. He said nothing but held her tightly, letting her go after a moment. "I'll see you later. Let me know when you get back, and owl me if plans change."

Ginny affirmed this and left. She realized she was even a little excited to go have fun with Hermione; perhaps this was the time her life would take an upswing.

***

As the world slowly came back in to focus, Draco gradually realized what had happened. When he figured out that Hermione must have Stupefied him, he ground his teeth in annoyance. Blast her, he thought irritably. If I'd finished my Dark Arts training that Father's started...we'll, she'd never know what hit her. Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, he looked at his watch again once he'd gotten up; it was now ten o'clock in the morning, and he didn't feel as if he could sleep again.

Draco bathed and opened the closet, where one of the Leaky Cauldron's house-elves had hung all his clothes the day before. Pulling out a tight gray sweater that matched his eyes, Draco's hand hesitated for a moment before landing on cleanly pressed black trousers. It was a little warm for the summer, but Draco didn't wear things like shorts and t-shirts - they were much to plebeian for his taste. All his clothes were enchanted to fit perfectly and very, very expensive.

Draco entered Knockturn Alley and wandered around for a while, examining various Dark Arts objects. Historical artifacts that had malicious purposes had always fascinated him - nastily enchanted swords, suits of armor, and the like. He found a particularly interesting set of chain mail that was spelled to gradually kill the wearer by shrinking the rib cage after several days of wearing it. It was 300 Galleons. He made a mental note to come back later and purchase the item with his father.

Late in the morning, Draco's stomach began to grumble, so he returned to Diagon Alley for a snack. Knockturn Alley was wonderfully entertaining for most things, but he wouldn't trust anyone there to serve him food. He ordered a rich chocolate sundae from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor and sat eating it slowly, savoring the sugary taste and mentally ridiculing every person in the shop.

Out of the corner of his eye Draco caught sight of Crabbe and Goyle entering the ice cream parlor with their parents. He called them over imperiously, saying, "Crabbe. Goyle. Here."

They came obediently, like well-trained show dogs, and sat down across from Draco. Both offered up grunts as the word of greeting. Draco raised one eyebrow.

"I see you two haven't changed a bit. Injured anyone lately?"

Crabbe slurped a milkshake. "Punched little kids in my neighborhood at home."

"Yeah," Goyle agreed. "Haven't seen anyone else to punch lately."

Draco shook his head. "Sometime natural selection will knock you two out of the gene pool...in the meantime, I meant to tell you, I ran into Harry Potter's little girlfriend today." He didn't mention that she'd hexed him. "We've got to get her good sometime."

Goyle pointed a sticky finger. "Isn't that her?"

Draco looked to where he was pointing, and, indeed, there was Hermione entering the shop, along with a small red-haired girl. He turned back to Goyle with surprise. "Good one."

Furrowing his heavy brow, Crabbe said, thinking deeply, "She's smart. Maybe you should think of a better way to hurt her than hexing. She always gets to you with curses and all that."

Draco looked taken aback. "Do you have a better idea?" he sneered.

"Break her heart," Goyle said, and he and Crabbe (after a moment to process his statement) burst into laughter. Draco, however, tilted his head and considered the merits of this plan.

"No," he said finally. "Granger's too smart; she wouldn't fall for that." A malicious smirk began to spread across his face. "The redhead, though...she's gullible. Wouldn't that just be the ultimate revenge, against Potter and his friends? I'll lead her on and then dump her. Crabbe, Goyle, that may have been the smartest thing you've ever said."

They looked deeply honored. Crabbe said, "Better than that one time I thought of throwing cheese at Hagrid?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You don't even know." He sighed. "Honestly, you two. My I.Q. goes down just listening to you talk."

"What's an I.Q.?" Goyle asked, frowning.

Draco could only laugh. "That's it. I'll see you two later. I've got to think about the best way to seduce that Weasley girl...what's her name? Jenny? Janie?"

Crabbe raised his eyebrows; or, rather, eyebrow. "I'll bet you twenty Galleons it doesn't work."

This was just the kind of incentive Draco wanted. "You're on. Later." And he left the ice cream parlor, smiling to himself, the kind of smile that one might perhaps find on a convicted axe-murderer.

***

Hermione and Ginny returned to the Leaky Cauldron for dinner after having a refreshing day in Diagon Alley. Hermione was pleasantly surprised by the change that had come over Ginny - she gradually came out of her shell and was now quite comfortably chatting with Hermione. Tilting her head to one side, Hermione wondered if it was the change of scenery that made such an impact on Ginny, who was more relaxed than Hermione had ever seen her.

Ginny glanced at her watch, then said reluctantly, "I should be getting back...it's late evening, and the whole family's probably worried." She rolled her eyes. "That's what it's like, having six older brothers."

"That's fine. I should probably go check on Harry again anyway - just to see if he's up yet." Hermione had filled Ginny in on how she'd sent him away to get some rest.

Ginny nodded. "I'll come with you. Then I should probably leave." She hoped she wasn't being too obvious about her desire to see Harry, but Hermione didn't seem to notice.

"All right. He's upstairs." Ginny trailed the older girl as they climbed the stairs, and headed towards a room a few down from Hermione's. "He's probably still asleep," Hermione whispered, but quietly knocked on the door anyway. They waited, and there was no response, so Hermione muttered, "Firebolt," and they entered.

To neither girl's surprise, Harry was still unconscious, sprawled out over nearly the whole bed and breathing deeply. Ginny felt herself flush as her eyes roamed over him: she imagined herself fingering the curve of his jaw, touching his closed eyelids, interlacing her fingers with his. His right hand faced upwards, palm open and trusting; his left arm was beneath the quilt that Hermione had earlier flung over him.

Ginny was still in a nearly trancelike state when Hermione said, "Looks like he's still out. Let's go," and turned to leave. Ginny forced her eyes away from the sleeping figure, heart aching, and closed her eyes briefly as she gently pulled the door handle closed.

***

Once Ginny had left, Hermione went to St. Mungo's to see if there was any news about Ron. She knew that Mrs. Weasley had said they'd tell her once anything happened, but she was anxious to hear if anything, insignificant, had occurred.

Neither of the Weasleys were in the room when Hermione arrived. She went through the doors she'd seen them disappear through before and stood in the hallway, uncertain about what to do, until Mrs. Weasley came out of one of the rooms, looking a little teary.

"Oh, it's you, Hermione, darling! Is everything all right?" Mrs. Weasley sounded concerned.

"I'm fine. How's Ron?" She bit her lip.

Mrs. Weasley smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "They've said he might wake up tomorrow, but they're still not sure what side effects everything will have on him. There's no way to tell yet - we'll just have to see. If..." she hesitated. "If there are problems, they may not be magically reversible."

Hermione nodded. As well as being worried for Ron, she felt pity for the Weasleys, who must be even more anxious for their young son's health. Hermione put a comforting hand on Mrs. Weasley's shoulder. "I'm sure this is all very difficult for you. You should go home and get some rest."

Mrs. Weasley looked up at Hermione, respect in her eyes. "You act so much older than your age, dear. Yes, that's just what I was about to do - Arthur's staying here for the night, and I'll be back tomorrow. There's no need for you to stay; we'll be sure to let you and Harry know as soon as there's any change."

Mrs. Weasley Apparated away, and a resigned Hermione returned again to the Leaky Cauldron.

***

Draco sat pensively in his room in the Leaky Cauldron, mentally considering the best way to seduce Ginny Weasley (whose name he'd finally remembered, and scoffed at.) He couldn't exactly show up at her house and ask for her--he was smart enough to know that her six older brothers would prevent that, most likely in a most violent way. Draco was confident about his fighting and dueling skills, mostly because he didn't play fair, but not that confident.

Frustrated, Draco flopped back on his bed and ran slender fingers through his white-blond hair. Well, he had time. And in time, he would think of something, and it would be so flawless that she wouldn't be able to resist him. Who could?

***

He could sense light behind his eyelids, but that was all. There were voices, ones he recognized, but couldn't identify. He felt as if he were straining his ears, and still could barely hear them, like the noises were coming from the end of a very long tunnel.

He tried to open his eyes, and although it felt like he was exuding enough strength to lift all of Hogwarts, nothing happened. He tried to move a finger, concentrating on it as hard as he could, but he couldn't even move it a hair's width. He tried to change his steady and rhythmic breathing.

Still nothing.

He felt as if this were somehow wrong, a vague sense of uneasiness forming in the back of his mind, but he couldn't shape it into coherent thoughts. There was a moment's stillness, and then the blackness came rushing back, a formless cloud that overpowered him, and then Ron lapsed back into complete unconsciousness.

***

Hermione, who'd felt worn out all day long after not sleeping well, had barely climbed in bed when her eyelids fluttered closed and she was deeply asleep. She didn't come close to waking until late the next morning, when she heard someone saying her name and forced her eyes to open, squinting in the sunlight that streamed in pillars across her bed. Apparently, someone had also opened her windows.

"Hermione." It was Harry. He was leaning against her doorframe, dressed, with his dark hair still damp, as if from a recent shower. He grinned at her, and Hermione privately thought that this was the best awakening she'd ever had.

"Harry," she murmured, struggling to sit up and push her curls back. "What're you doing in my room?"

Still smiling, he came to sit on the side of her bed. "Your password's 'Lockhart,' you silly," he teased, and she flushed.

"You shouldn't have just come in," she said, a little severely, ignoring the fact that she'd done much the same to him twice the day before. "But...you look better." Hermione pulled the covers up around her chest, and propped herself up against a stack of pillows. She wasn't quite ready to get out of bed yet.

"I feel better," he replied. "I haven't slept like that in...well, a long time, anyway. And your Pepperup Potion helped this morning, too."

"When'd you wake up?"

"Around eight o'clock," Harry responded. He grinned again, and she could see now that he was closer to her that he did look much more relaxed. "Nearly twenty-two hours. I think that's a personal record."

"Good." Hermione closed her eyes briefly, and Harry could see a hint of blue in her eyelids that came from tiredness - she looked as if she still yearned to be sleeping soundly.

Harry cleared his throat. "Worried about Ron?"

She nodded feebly, keeping her eyes closed. Harry put a hand over hers, and they sat quietly for a moment, not wanting to voice their worries.

Hermione sighed. "I should get up." She attempted to do so, but Harry, sitting on her bed and comforter, made it impossible for her to move very far. She sighed again. "Harry. Come on. Move."

Grudgingly, he did so. "Meet me downstairs in a little bit, and we'll go to the hospital."

Hermione nodded. "Half an hour or so. I'll be there."

Harry smiled at her once again, and shut the door. Hermione laid back in bed for just a moment, hugging a pillow to her chest.

***

Both Harry and Hermione were deeply involved in their own thoughts during their brief breakfast. Harry had woken up starving and already eaten eggs and several cinnamon rolls, so he sat nervously and fiddled with the tablecloth. Hermione flipped through the day's Daily Prophet, leaving her muffin untouched.

Idly Harry picked up the front section, which Hermione had already glanced at and discarded, looking through it to see if there was anything of interest. New regulations on Apparating over international borders, a break-in at a wizard pet supply store in Diagon Alley, a witch writing a complaint letter about becoming ill from a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean...none of it could hold Harry's interest at that moment. He opened to the second page of the section and paled upon seeing a large article in the upper-left-hand corner.

Former Hogwarts teacher charged with murder

Remus Lupin, 36, who taught at Hogwarts school for one year before fleeing after he was discovered to be a werewolf, has been officially charged with the murder of Eric Robertson, 12, on June 15. Ministry officials discovered the body in the Black Woods a day later and determined the cause of death to be mauling by a large animal, likely a werewolf. Just yesterday the Control of Magical Creatures Committee confirmed this suspicion, and affirmed the presence of Lupin in the area.

"We believe that Mr. Lupin performed this murder, and have sufficient evidence to convict him once he is tracked down," Ministry official Francis Parkinson said. "He is highly dangerous and possibly insane."

Anyone with information on Lupin or the murder is encouraged to contact the Control of Magical Creatures Committee within the Ministry of Magic as soon as possible. Rewards will be given for accurate information.

Harry looked at Hermione, who was still flipping through the paper but not appearing to actually see anything. He said her name, and she startled, apparently having forgotten he was in the room. "What is it?"

"Look at this," he said grimly, and watched her face as she scanned the article. He could see by the way the color rose to her cheeks that she hadn't read the article before.

"We've got to do something to help him," Hermione said firmly. "I'm embarrassed to admit that I'd almost forgotten about it all after Ron's accident...but once we know he's all right, we can get started working right away."

Harry nodded. "Remind me to contact Sirius. I was going to do that before, but..."

Hermione knew what the end of his sentence would be. "I know. It's all right. We'll just have to work harder now. If Ron's up, we can tell him about it when we get there. He'll probably still need to rest, so you can send Hedwig out and I'll go the library..."

Harry thought that Hermione was being awfully optimistic. He was trying not to get his hopes up about Ron--in fact, he was trying to avoid thinking about him altogether. It wouldn't do him any good to worry, and being to hopeful would just make him feel worse later. It was hard to stay neutral when it was his best friend that was in the hospital.

"Let's just go," he said finally, realizing that Hermione was watching him expectantly. His gaze flickered down to her untouched muffin. "Aren't you going to eat that?"

She shook her head. "I'm not really hungry. You're right--we should just go."

Harry nodded, and they walked over to the fireplace, Hermione pulling the Floo powder out of her bag along the way. She gave him a handful, and gestured that he should go first. Harry stepped into the fireplace, saying clearly, "St. Mungo's," and disappearing in a flash of green flames. Hermione imitated his actions, and Harry helped her up once she arrived, brushing soot from the back of her shirt.

Hermione's heart was beating rapidly as they entered the hallway and went to stand outside the room where Ron had been before. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, unsure about what to do next.

"Look in the window," Hermione suggested finally. "There's a crack in the blinds--there." She pointed. It was more than six feet off the ground, and Harry had to stand on his toes to peek through it. "What do you see?"

"It's the right room," Harry said, squinting through the glass. "The Weasleys are there." He stood back on his feet and looked at her. "Should we knock?"

"I...I suppose," Hermione said hesitantly. Harry took a deep breath, wondering why he was so nervous about the simple act of rapping his knuckles on a door, and knocked.

Mr. Weasley immediately came to open the door and seemed relieved to see it was just them. "Harry. Hermione. Good to see you kids--come in." He held the door open and they followed him in.

Hermione clenched her hands together briefly, leaving half-moon imprints on her palms that gradually faded. She could see out of the corner of her eye that Harry was biting his lip as Mr. Weasley led them presumably over to where Ron was, although there was a curtain shielding the bed. Hermione's knees wobbled just a bit, and she took a deep breath, not knowing quite what to expect.

***

Alone in her room at the Burrow, Ginny was startled by a tapping at her window. Wondering who was owling her, she pulled back the curtain to see a large, black owl hovering outside. She opened the latch and the bird dropped something in her hand. She was surprised to see that the bird flew away without requesting payment. Someone must have already given it money for the delivery.

It was a pale pink envelope, addressed to her in scrolling letters. She slit open the note, expecting a letter from her parents, or maybe Hermione, telling her of Ron's well-being. She was shocked as she watched the envelope curve itself into a rose. Dewdrops were glistening all over the flower. The rose was one of the most exquisite things Ginny had ever seen.

Ginny's eyes opened wider as the it began to recite a poem to her. It was a lovely, lilting voice, obviously male, and completely unrecognizable. She flushed, but couldn't take her eyes off of it as words emanated from it.

"The first moment I saw you

I knew you were meant for me

O flower of my heart

I only hope that we can be."

The rose continued to hover in midair, and once Ginny was able to tear her gaze away, she went to the kitchen in search of something to put it in. All she was able to locate was an old yellow watering-can, but she figured it would have to suffice. She filled it partway with water and took it up to her room, where the flower still waited for her.

Clearing a space for the watering-can on her desk, Ginny set it down and gently picked up the rose, careful not to touch any of the thorns. She put the flower in the watering-can and stood back to look at the stunning present she'd just received.

Ginny gave a little shriek of surprise as the watering-can began to transform, and in a moment it was a sparkling crystal vase, entirely suited for holding her magnificent rose. She put her hands to her cheeks, feeling that they were hot with embarrassment, and sat down on her bed, still staring at the wondrous thing that had arrived outside her window. Who could it possibly be from?

The first answer that came to her mind was, of course, Tom. It was just his sort of thing--the Tom that she had known, the Tom that had loved her and listened to her and wanted to be with her. Not the Tom that had controlled her and opened the Chamber of Secrets, but the Tom that she wanted even more than she wanted Harry.

But that was impossible. Harry had killed that Tom; Ginny had seen his memory disappear as Harry stabbed the diary that had harbored him. There was no way, she told herself, that it was Tom.

However, he'd been the only boy to ever love her. She didn't know who else could have sent it. Harry, maybe--

Ginny's thoughts were interrupted as the door was flung open. Charlie, looking a little wild-eyed, crossed the room in one stride and came to stand next to her. "I heard you scream. Is everything all right?"

Ginny found that she was actually laughing. "I'm fine. Look what came in the post." She pointed at the rose, sitting on her desk and looking pretty as ever.

Charlie's eyebrows jumped up in surprise. "Who's that from?"

Ginny shrugged. "I'm not sure. There wasn't a name--just, well, it read me a poem." She felt color come in to her cheeks again.
Charlie eyed it suspiciously. "Are you sure it's not harmful? I'd better test it." Before Ginny could react, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the rose, firmly saying, "Finite Incantatum!"

The rose disappeared in a puff of smoke. Ginny could only stare at the spot where it had been, and the yellow watering-can in place of the crystal vase.

"Charlie!" she exclaimed. "Look what you did! It was a perfectly beautiful, harmless rose, and some nice person sent it to me, and of course it disappeared, it was created by a spell and ending it made it go away, and it was lovely, and you ruined it!" She felt tears welling up in the back of her eyes; the rose had been the nicest thing that had happened to her in months.

"I'm sorry. Look, Ginny, I was just trying to protect you--"

"By destroying a rose? For goodness' sake, Charlie, I'd understand if someone sent me a--a--well, food, or something that could be poisoned, but I already touched it and it was fine--"

"Ginny--"

"And it's not like there are a lot of people out to get me in the first place!" She was crying now, although she knew it was immature of her. Why, why had he had to destroy it? She turned away, and shook him off when he tried to put a hand on her shoulder.

Charlie sighed. "I'll be in my room if you need me. I'm sorry." He left, shutting the door behind him.

Ginny let the tears flow freely for a couple of minutes before wiping them off angrily with the back of her hand. In frustration, she took the watering-can and flung it out the open window.

***

Excepting times when, as a child, Harry had occasionally caught a flu bug, he'd never in his life felt so much like throwing up. He'd been nervous before his first Quidditch match There had been many anxious moments in his adventures with Ron and Hermione, many gruesome sights in his battles with Voldemort, many tense moments before the tasks in the Tri-Wizard Tournament--but nothing like this. Harry was rather glad that he had been asleep for much of the past few days--if his nerves had been any more strained, he was sure he would have done something drastic by now: punched a hole in the wall in his room in the Leaky Cauldron, or passed out on the floor, or had a nervous breakdown. When his close friends had been injured in the past, there was always the basic knowledge that magic would be able to heal them, or he simply hadn't had time to consider the consequences, because he'd been in the middle of some life-risking escapade.

But now, the realization that if Ron wasn't all right, there was nothing he could do about it, truly scared him. Harry had always been the hero; of the simple mentality that, if there was something wrong, he would try and fix it. Cedric's death had made him realize that he couldn't always do everything, and although he'd been trying to avoid thinking at all about the events at the end of the past year, the simple truth was that someone had died, and he hadn't been able to stop it. Now, one of the people he cared about most was in danger, and it was his fault, all his fault, if he'd just gotten on the stupid broomstick himself instead of trying to be so generous--

Harry bit down on his lip so hard that he tasted blood, which certainly didn't help his unsettled stomach. He swallowed hard as Mr. Weasley led them over to Ron's bed, and hoped with all his heart that Ron would be all right. If he wasn't, Harry was quite sure that his nerves would overcome him and he would promptly be sick on the floor.

***

Draco sat thoughtfully in his room at the Leaky Cauldron, tapping a quill on the side of the table he was sitting in front of. The first love poem had been a bit of a struggle, seeing as they weren't really his area of expertise. Love poems weren't necessary for Draco Malfoy. Once he had gotten a girl to go out with him simply by raising his eyebrows at her seductively.

But he was smart enough to realize that Ginny Weasley would be different. She would want sappy things, sweet things, just like love poems and roses--total crap as far as he was concerned. But it would be worth it, it would all be worth it, once she'd convinced herself that their relationship was true and he could break her heart. He imagined her young, innocent face crumpling, imagined her crying and begging him to stay. And when she did, he would simply laugh, enjoy the view for a while, and leave her there to be found, brokenhearted, by Potter and his friends. Yes, it would be worth it, worth all the love poems and the roses and all the other gifts he would shower her with--spending hundreds of Galleons on Ginny wasn't an issue for Draco Malfoy, and since the Weasleys were desperately poor, it was to his advantage that he could throw money out the window on her.

Draco allowed himself a small, malicious smile, and rang a bell-pull in his room for a house-elf to bring him more parchment.

***

Hermione was walking in front of Harry and was able to see Ron before he could. She let out a little exclamation, and flung her arms around Ron's neck.

"Ouch," Ron gasped, at the force of Hermione's embrace, but he was smiling, and reached a hand around to pat her back for a moment. Harry grinned, and felt his entire body relax simultaneously at the sight of Ron, awake and recovering and recognizing them. Harry was smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt.

"Harry, come here," Hermione said, turning to grab his hand and pull him in to her embrace. There were tears on her face, but she had a wobbly smile.

The three of them stayed together for a moment, simply holding on to one another and being glad that they were all alive and well. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hung back, smiling.

Hermione finally pulled back and sat on one side of Ron's bed. Harry offered her a tissue, and she gratefully accepted it.

"Oh, Ron, I'm so glad you're okay," Hermione said. "We were so worried." She ran her fingers lightly over a large bandage that encompassed most of his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," he replied lightly, making Hermione giggle through her tears. His voice was a little hoarse. "I'm also fairly sure I won't be purchasing a SkyThunder, although the first couple of minutes before all the wall-smashing were bloody awesome."

Harry laughed at that too, and it was amazing. Hermione was making indiscernible snerking noises--it was difficult to tell if she was laughing or crying. Ron and Harry began to laugh at Hermione's melodrama, and they laughed so hard that Ron began to gasp, "Ow...ow..." and hold his side; that Harry's eyes began to stream; that Hermione had to hold herself up with the side of Ron's bed. They finally managed to subside when their stomachs as if they'd just run a marathon.

"Oh," Hermione gasped, "oh, I love you both," and flung herself at the two of them. She realized she was being overly dramatic and utterly un-Hermione-like, but she didn't care. Over Hermione's shoulder, Ron pretended to stick his finger down his throat, and Harry began to shake with the effort of keeping himself calm. "What's so funny?" Hermione protested, pulling away and smoothing her hair down.

"Everything," Harry said, feeling as if he could fill the whole room with his happiness. "Everything is bloody hysterical," and the three of them were off again, laughing so raucously that a nurse had to come and quiet them down, reminding them that this was a hospital and that patients were there to recover, not relapse from overexerting themselves.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said, wiping her eyes, when they'd all exhausted themselves. "I'm so glad you're all right."

***

Far away from Harry, Hermione and Ron, in a forest in Scotland, a werewolf stretched and yawned. He shook out his shaggy tail and licked one of his front paws, scents coursing through his mind like a rapidly running stream. He was hungry; it was time for a meal. He could smell that deer were nearby, off to the...he sniffed again...southeast.

Inhaling deeply, the werewolf caught another scent, that of a human, approaching to his left. He felt all his fur prickle up: he did not like men. This smell seemed familiar, however; the werewolf cocked its head to the side quizzically, in a remarkably human way. Taking another breath, he put his nose to the ground and began to track the man.

***