Adamo Mortalis

Adamo Mortalis

Chapter 9

There was a part of Ginny that was secretly thrilled by the brawl that had broken out between Harry and Draco. To a degree, it could be construed that they were fighting over her, and while on the surface it seemed like a bad thing--Merlin, it made her feel desired, and wanted, and simply someone worth fighting over.

She was with Draco now. There was no question in her mind of the validity of that statement. But Harry's attention still gave her a thrill inside, and the fact that Draco felt the need to defend her made her feel appreciated and protected.

It certainly made things awkward for her, though. She couldn't look at Harry, and Hermione seemed much more stiff and formal around her. None of them mentioned the fight, although Ginny overheard Harry telling Ron that Dumbledore had given the two boys detention together for a month.

Ginny couldn't be sure, but it seemed as if something had happened that day to separate Harry and Hermione. They rarely spoke, and tended to sit farther apart at meals than they had before the Hogsmeade trip. Hermione often breakfasted with Seamus, and Harry never sat with her when he was there. But as Ginny's relations were strained with both Harry and Hermione, she really had no idea what was going on. None of them ever brought up the subject of Draco, either, although Ginny continued to spend time with him out of the eye of the public--and the whole of Gryffindor house, not just Harry and Hermione, knew it.

She often wondered how Draco dealt with the similar problem within the Slytherins. They must hate Ginny as much as Ginny's house despised Draco, and yet he still seemed to remain popular within his group. Ginny could hardly imagine that the Slytherins had come to accept her. She still got dirty looks when Draco took her to his room--and that was the way it always was, with Draco right beside her as they navigated the Slytherin dungeons to get to his dorm. Ginny never would have dared to venture down there by herself; she would never trust the rest of Draco's house-mates, and it seemed they felt similarly about her.

***

"Asphodel root?"

"It's right next to you."

"That's powdered. I need whole."

"Well, maybe you should be more specific, then." Harry couldn't help it any more. He was usually slow to anger, but after so many straight days of detention with Draco, his nerves were at their end.

"Silence!" Snape barked from the other side of the Potions classroom. "Potter, keep your mouth shut or I'll take points from Gryffindor."

Harry clenched his jaw so tightly he was afraid the bones would snap. But he handed Draco the root of asphodel wordlessly, although he hoped the Slytherin boy wouldn't notice that he was shaking with pent-up fury.

Half an hour later, Snape dismissed them, and Harry gladly set off to escape in the direction of the Quidditch field--he was already going to be late for practice. But Draco stopped him with, "Potter. Wait."

Reluctantly, Harry turned, crossing his arms over his chest. "What do you want?"

Draco looked Harry in the eye, steady gray meeting with fierce green. "I shouldn't have punched you."

Harry scoffed. "You don't have to convince me."

"I like her," he said simply. "Ginny. She's good for me."

Harry looked away. After a moment's silence, he asked, "Are you good for her?"

"I hope so," Draco said quietly. "But I do know one thing: I really like her. And I won't hurt her."

"All right," said Harry, so softly that Draco didn't hear him the first time.

"What?"

Harry looked up. "All right. I accept that."

Draco nodded at Harry, and he returned the favor.

Harry went to practice then, and Draco to his dorm room, but from then on, they remained, if not in friendship, in a mutually agreeable peace treaty.

***

Ever since she'd befriended Harry and Ron after the encounter with the troll first year, Hermione had thought it wasn't possible to permanently destroy the bond between the three of them. Even through fights, and the weeks, and the weeks in the summers when they couldn't see each other, and all the other challenges they'd had to face--she'd always felt instinctively that nothing could ever rupture the unbreakable connection they shared.

But now, she wasn't so sure.

Before, things had been different. During third year, when she and Ron and Harry had gone through the worst time of their friendship when Ron had thought that Crookshanks ate Scabbers, Hermione had thought that there was a chance she'd never have friends again. But now, looking back, she could see that it had been only a disagreement that had separated them--not this awful awkwardness with Harry, and the complete disinterest that Ron showed towards the two of them. She didn't know how they would get over the...well, the apathy that all three of them were showing toward each other.

Hermione was spending more and more time with Seamus. He was the only person that seemed reasonable and rational now, with Ron distracted with Merlin only knew what and Harry still giving her the cold shoulder. Seamus was simply fun to be around--clever and mischievous and teasing in the way that Harry and Ron had used to be. Occasionally, Hermione let herself think about the way things used to be, but it made her ache so much that she forced it out of her mind.

Besides, she was truly enjoying her newfound friendship with Seamus. While she wouldn't precisely say they were dating--the most he'd ever done was peck her on the cheek, although they continued to occasionally hold hands--it was obvious to anyone observing that he now had a monopoly on her free time, as well as her affection.

It was a crisp Sunday in mid-October when Seamus finally decided to cash in on his promise of teaching her how to fly.

The ceiling over the Great Hall told the student body that fall was settling in. The sky was a brilliant pale blue, thin whitish wisps of clouds streaking across it, reflecting the sort of weather that made one think of leaves, and pumpkins, and getting winter jackets down from the attic. In other words, it was perfect for flying.

"Today," stated Seamus over breakfast, and Hermione glanced up from the day's Daily Prophet quizzically, "you are going to learn to fly a broomstick."

Hermione set down her newspaper and rubbed her temples. "Seamus, I really can't. Haven't you been listening all week about how much homework I have-- "

Seamus put a hand over her mouth, although he could still see her eyes, which were dark and full of indignance. "No arguments. It's perfect. You won't find a better day all year."

Hermione had freed herself. "But--"

"I'll take your books away. Don't think I won't."

A ghost of a smile crept across Hermione's face. It made her look much younger, like the fifteen years she actually was. "Fine. You have today. That's it, though."

He grinned and took her hand. "That'll be enough. You need a day off, anyway."

Her brown eyes caught and met with his, and he was mildly stunned to see that she looked apprehensive, almost fearful. He had seen a range of emotions go through her in the time they'd spent together--rage, pity, playfulness, worry, exhaustion, curiosity, annoyance, joy--but always she seemed to be in control of herself. The expression in her eyes made him wonder what made her afraid.

"Hey," he said soothingly, stroking across her knuckles with his thumb as he continued to clasp her hand. "It'll be fun. Don't look so frightened. I'm going to teach you to fly, not just set you loose on a broomstick."

Hermione looked up at him warily. "How do you know," she said, "that they're not the same thing?"

***

Had anyone been paying attention, they would have noticed that Ron was visibly nervous. At breakfast, he dropped a bowl, fumbled for his silverware in such a manner that it ended up on the floor, and misjudged the distance between the glass he was holding and his mouth so that pumpkin juice spilled all down the front of his shirt.

But there was a good reason for his anxiety. Today was the day that his love-revealing potion was supposed to be done brewing, and he was eager to try it out. Supposedly, it should only make him more obvious to those who already had feelings for him, and not create emotions that weren't there, but that was all he felt was necessary. Fleur needed only to have her eyes opened to realize what had been right there in front of her all along.

Ron, abandoning his breakfast, left the Great Hall, changed his stained shirt to a clean one, and took the stairs two at a time to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the third floor. He could feel his heart thumping wildly in his chest, but he was so full of adrenaline that he didn't even realize the effort he was making.

Nearly tripping over a loose tile, Ron raced in to the room, glad to see that his cauldron was still there, bubbling in an appropriate manner. He sat down cross-legged on the floor and stirred it slowly. He hoped that the week he'd been instructed to let it sit and stew had been beneficial in some way other than to make it look and smell more vile, because that was the only difference he noticed.

Measuring out a cup of the rancid potion, Ron looked down at the amount in his glass. The purplish-gray mixture was burbling less furiously now, and he could smell it much more clearly. It reminded him of the taste left in his mouth after he'd spent several hours throwing up slugs in second year, which was not a pleasant recollection.

Not allowing himself to lose his nerve, Ron took a deep breath, held his nose, put the cup to his lips, and swallowed.

For a dizzying moment he thought he would be sick. His stomach heaved, and he gagged, but he forced the liquid down, knowing that becoming ill would make his weeks of work on the potion a waste of time. Crouching on the dank tile floor, Ron spent several moments swallowing forcefully until the urge to be ill left him. After that came a period of time in which he simply took in ragged gasps of air, his head between his knees, trying to remember how to breathe normally.

"Ron." Harry was suddenly in the bathroom, for no logical reason that Ron could come up with, and Ron jerked his head up from the floor, although he quickly regretted it from the jolt it gave his stomach. "I couldn't find you downstairs, so I thought you might be up here to work on your potion. Are you...are you all right? You're..." Harry trailed off and crinkled his nose. "Merlin, it smells awful in here."

"Yes, well," Ron said weakly, his voice reduced to a hoarse rasp. "I just drank it. I think it was worse than the Polyjuice Potion, and that's really saying something." He clutched his stomach and grimaced. "I think I'll wait a bit before going after her. It wouldn't be very romantic to throw up on her blouse."

"Not so much, no," Harry agreed. He located the only working faucet in the restroom, rinsed out Ron's potion cup, and offered him a glass of water. "Here. Drink."

Ron took small sips from the glass, and gradually felt his nausea subside. "Eurgh. You'd think a love-revealing potion would be a little better-tasting."

Harry smirked. "I think it's kind of funny, really."

"You would. It wouldn't be so funny if you were me, and just working on keeping all of your internal organs...well, internal." Ron stood up slowly, using a sink to help himself. His legs felt like rubber. Groaning a bit, he turned to Harry and said, "Remind me not to try this again."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you really going to forget that quickly?"

"On second thought, probably not. I just hope it's worth it. You mind grabbing my cauldron there?"

"Sure." Harry jumped down from the sink he'd been perched on and picked it up easily. "Oh, look, there's some left. Are you sure you don't want any more?"

"Trust me. I'm positive."

***

"You," Charlie stated authoritatively, "need a haircut."

"Mr. Weasley--"

"Charlie. I'm not Mr. Weasley. That's my father."

"Charlie, then." Remus cleared his throat. "I'm not quite sure what getting my hair trimmed has to do with...anything, really."

"Despite the fact that they think otherwise," Charlie said calmly, "the judges we'll be seeing tomorrow for your arraignment are just average wizards like you and me. They take as much stock in appearance as anyone else, even if they don't think they do. It is absolutely crucial that you come off as a kindly Hogwarts teacher who would never do anyone intentional harm as opposed to a wild werewolf who enjoys ravishing young children."

Remus self-consciously combed through his graying-brown locks which, admittedly, were slightly out of control. Trust Charlie, Remus told himself. He knows what he's doing. "All right. Fine."

Charlie gave a small smile. "Good. Then I think we've gone over everything for tomorrow, yes? You know to meet here in my office at twelve o'clock and we'll Apparate there."

Quieting his lawyer with a wave of his hand, Remus said, "I'm aware of all the times and details. I'll be here."

"Then we're done for the day," Charlie told him. "Go have a little fun. Make sure you're fully rested for tomorrow."

Remus half-smiled and replied, "I'm off to guzzle down Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, then. See you tomorrow." He left, shutting the door behind him.

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. He'd forgotten how much work it was to argue a case. All in all, however, things were going as well as could be expected. He had a testimony from Snape that the Wolfsbane Potion had been sent to Remus, and proof that the owl sent had never made its delivery. At Remus' destroyed home, a detective friend of Charlie's had found residue from a very powerful potion that could indeed disallow a transformed wizard to return to his original state. It would be very easy to prove that Remus had not taken his Wolfsbane Potion, and had instead ingested a potion that kept him as a werewolf. Charlie had no worries about that.

The major trouble, however, was that there was no proof of anyone else being involved in the situation. Charlie had no one to charge with the crimes of intercepting the Wolfsbane Potion, coming in to Remus' home, and forcing the other potion upon him. At the scene, there had been no footprints, no fingerprints, no evidence. The only thing that the court would have to go by that Remus was deliberately sabotaged by someone else was his own testimony, which meant that Charlie would have to do an outstanding job of proving that Remus was trustworthy and had no motives to intentionally endanger himself. It was a difficult task, with no evidence.

Charlie allowed himself a five-minute break and rested his cheek against the cool wood of his desk. Finally, taking a deep breath, he sat up, deciding he needed and deserved a break, and left the stack of testimonies behind him for a walk around the castle.

***

As he stepped through the Slytherin portrait hole, Draco stopped short, and Ginny, trailing him, bumped into his back. A large group of students formed a half-circle in the common room, all with equally fearsome expressions. Draco slowly climbed all the way out of the portrait hole, crossing his arms over his chest, and Ginny came to stand by his side.

No one spoke. Ginny shivered, and although Draco felt it, standing next to her, he didn't touch her.

"What's this about?" Draco said finally, roughly, as he examined the group of Slytherins, none of which had moved a muscle.

One of them stepped forward: a seventh-year with a rat-like face. "The girl."

"Ginny," Draco said very quietly, "You should leave now. I'll meet you later."

"But if--"

Draco turned to her. His eyes were blazing, and nearly the color of charcoal. "Ginny."

She turned, and pushed the portrait hole open. It slammed shut behind her.

"I explained to you all before why I'm doing this," Draco said, annoyed. "What's different now?"

"Yeah, you did explain to us why you're doing this," the rat-faced boy said. "You said you were going to lead her on, befriend all the Gryffindors, and then dump her. So you've done that. Why don't you break up with her now?"

Draco sighed. He felt as if he were talking to a group of very small, very stupid children. Unfortunately, they also happened to be very strong children, and there were a great number of them. "The time isn't right yet. I haven't penetrated in as far as I can I'm still working on Potter, especially--"

"Why do you need to be friends with him?" This time it was Pansy Parkinson. Draco wouldn't be surprised if she was the one who had come up with the idea to confront Draco, in order to get him to break up with Ginny so that she could have him for herself.

A muscle twitched in Draco's jaw. "It's always a benefit to befriend the enemy. You never know what secrets they might give away, and then you can betray them when they think you trust them."

"And what exactly has Potter told you so far?" The rat-faced boy again.

Draco was caught off-guard. "Well--"

"Nothing. Exactly. You're not getting anywhere."

"I'm sure he's getting some, though," someone muttered from the back of the room. Draco forced himself to ignore the comment.

"That's not true," he protested. "I'm making progress. You have to give me time. The Gryffindors aren't as stupid as you make them out to be. Except for Weasley, they don't trust me right now. I just need time--"

"You've got a month. If, in that time, you don't find anything useful to us, then you'd better watch yourself, Draco. We wouldn't want you accidentally turning good on us."

With that, as if on cue, the group dispersed, some going out through the portrait hole and others back to their dorm rooms. A few gathered around a table, pulling out a wizard's chess board.

Sighing, Draco ran a hand through his hair, leaving it uncharacteristically ruffled. Although what he really wanted to do was curse all of his housemates into oblivion, he decided that was a bad plan, and instead went to his dorm room to allow his white-hot anger to cool down.

***

"So you know the first thing to do is to say, 'Up!' to it, right?"

"I took Flying Lessons, Seamus. I know everything you're supposed to do. It just doesn't work out for me." Hermione twisted her fingers together behind her back.

"I was just checking," he said patiently. "I didn't know how long it's been since you've flown."

She hesitated. "A...a while, I guess. The end of first year is the last time I properly remember doing so, when..." she fell silent, thinking about her and Harry and Ron's adventure chasing after the Sorcerer's Stone, when she'd briefly had to mount a broom and try to help corner one of the winged keys with Ron while Harry went after it. She hadn't said so, but that had been the most nerve-wracking part of the whole experience for her.

"When you what?" Seamus asked, startling her out of her reminiscence.

Hermione shook her head. "Never mind. It's not important. Sometime at the end of first year, I guess."

He shrugged. "Anyway. So set your broom on the ground"--she was using one of the school's broomsticks, a Cleansweep Seven, not wanting to ask Harry, whom she was barely speaking to, to borrow his Firebolt--"and hold your hand out above it and say, 'Up!'"

Biting the inside of her cheek, Hermione followed his instructions and said weakly, "Up."

When the broomstick didn't even ruffle a twig, Seamus looked at her and said, "Now try it again, and this time with feeling. It has to think you want to ride it."

What if I don't, really? Hermione thought, but she kept that to herself and called more strongly, "Up!"

This time, it shivered a little and turned over. Seamus smiled encouragingly at her, lifting her spirits slightly, and motioned for her to do it again. After several increasingly forceful attempts, Hermione became frustrated, shouting, "UP!" so loudly that the broomstick flung itself at her and hit the inside of her palm with an audible slap. She winced, and Seamus grinned.

"That's the way," he told her, laughing. "Do you know the proper way to mount?"

"I've seen Harry do it a million times," she told him. "I know what it's supposed to look like," and she climbed over one side of the hovering broomstick and positioned herself as comfortably as possible. Her hands gripped the top of the wood so tightly that her knuckles were already white.

Hermione stiffened as Seamus' fingertips brushed lightly over her hands. "Relax," He told her, and when she didn't, gently pried her grip of the broomstick. "You don't have to hold it that tightly. Just--like this." He adjusted her fingers. "See? You've still got a firm hold on it, but your hands won't be sore afterwards. It doesn't need to be strangled to death."

"No strangling," Hermione repeated, feeling foolish. "Right."

"Now you just stay right there," he told her, his hands still on hers, "and I'm going to climb on my broomstick, okay?" He moved away, and she had to physically curb her desire to grab the top of the handle harder.

He flew slowly over to hover in front of her. "When I tell you to, pull up on it just a little bit and kick off the ground, all right?"

She nodded, her bottom lip clenched in her teeth. Seamus had to force himself to concentrate--Hermione's curls were blowing around in the light wind, there was a lovely healthy flush in her cheeks, and she was concentrating so hard that he normally would have laughed if it hadn't been quite so attractive.

"And...now," he said, and he had to give her credit, she didn't hesitate--she slowly forced her hands and consequently the broomstick up, and suddenly she was three feet off the ground. Glancing down, she wobbled a bit and the broomstick started to droop.

Seamus reached out to grab the front of her broom. "Hermione. Look at me. Don't pay attention to the ground. Just concentrate on me, all right?"

Turning her gaze on him, he could see that she was shaking, but she said, "All right," and as she focused on him, the position of her broomstick stabilized.

"Okay, now I'm going to let go and come alongside you, but keep looking at me and not at the ground," he told her, and moved so that they were parallel. "Push forward when I say so."

Hermione did what he told her to, and her broomstick sailed forward. He went with her, hovering alongside, and made her turn to look at him by putting his hand on top of hers again. "You're doing fine. Want to go a little higher?"

Nodding gamely, she gave him a terse smile, and he let go again. He didn't give her directions this time--she took a deep breath and leapt up and forward on her own.

Seamus quickly caught up with her. "Nice. How do you feel?"

"Mildly terrified," she told him, only half-joking. "Not bad, though, considering."

"Well, we can stop whenever you like, although you're doing great."

She took another deep breath. "I'll keep going." Her mouth turned up as she met his eyes, although her lower lip was trembling. "Really, in comparison to Quidditch players, I've hardly done anything."

He gave her an encouraging smile.

Shutting her eyes for a brief moment, Hermione gave an emphatic push and flew nearly straight up. She hardly paused to bank left, and right, and then came swooping back to Seamus, who was watching closely and grinning. Her cheeks were flushed with adrenaline.

"That," he said seriously, "was great. You did what Quidditch players do, you know."

Hermione flew in a circle around him. "I did, didn't I? Thank you for helping me."

"Shall we go down now, or do you want to fly more?"

She shook her head. "I think I'm done for the day."

Seamus dove towards the ground as fast as his broomstick would carry him, with Hermione following behind more slowly. He reached the ground first and waited for her to land.

Hermione hit the field clumsily, climbing off her broomstick on weak legs. Impulsively, she threw her arms around Seamus, who held her tightly, laughing. "You were brilliant."

She laughed with him, if not as energetically. It took him a minute to realize--"You're still shaking," he said quietly, not releasing his grip on her.

"Let's just say it's still not my favorite method of travel," she told him, her voice muffled in his neck.

He rubbed her back lightly. "You did it, though, anyway."

Hermione finally pulled back, and went to pick up her broomstick as they started walking back toward Hogwarts. "I suppose so. But please don't ever make me do that again?"

"I won't. I promise." He slung an arm around her shoulders, for which she was grateful: she still felt a little wobbly. "We can do whatever you like for the rest of the day. Study, even."

She giggled. "No, I don't want to right now. I'll play you in a game of wizard's chess, though."

"That's my girl," Seamus said lightly, and moved his hand down to tickle her. Hermione darted away, laughing, as he chased her back to the school. She was nearly out of breath when she reached the front doors and almost collided with Harry, dressed for Quidditch practice. His eyes went from her to Seamus and their flushed faces, along with the fact that they were both carrying broomsticks, and then he wouldn't meet her gaze, even when she tried to look at him.

Hermione giggled when Seamus caught up with her and began to tickle her again, but she took a quick glance back at Harry, and the image of his slumped shoulders stayed in her mind all through the rest of her day with Seamus.

***

Ron practically strutted down the hallway towards Fleur's classroom. His nausea had subsided, to be replaced with a feeling of super-confidence he was pretty sure had nothing to do with the potion. He silently prayed that she would be in her classroom--he had mentioned at the end of class the day before that he had been having some trouble with the most recent lessons and he wanted to come in for extra help. Fleur had looked pained, but said she'd try to be available. Ever since Ron had kissed her at the beginning of the year, she'd been extra careful to avoid speaking with him (Ron was sure it was because she didn't want to tempt herself, because she wouldn't be able to hold back).

As he came closer and closer towards her classroom door, Ron's heart began to hammer in his chest. He took a deep breath as the doorway loomed in front of him, and smoothed down his white button-up shirt. This is it, he told himself, and pushed on the partially-open door.

The sight that greeted him inside brought all of his earlier sick feelings rushing back. Fleur was in her classroom, all right--she's kissing someone else, someone with red hair and freckles like me, and oh, Merlin, it's Charlie, my brother Charlie, how could he do this to me, and oh no no no--

Ron watched, open-mouthed with horror, as Charlie pulled Fleur's shirt off over her head and bent his head to kiss the space between her breasts. She was making little gasping noises, and as Ron continued to stare, she arched her back and pressed against Charlie and he couldn't watch any more.

Dazed, he stumbled back into the hallway, bracing himself against the wall. I have to get farther away, he told himself, and staggered along until the hallway turned and he could no longer hear the sounds emitting from Fleur's classroom. Ron slid down against the nearest wall and wondered how it was possible to feel so awful--his head was spinning, and he felt numb all over, except for his shaking hands, and when he looked up the corridor spun and tilted around him, and he felt the gruesome potion still rocketing around in his stomach.

He couldn't remember later how he eventually got back to his dormitory, but somehow he must have, and the next thing he knew Harry was poking him in the shoulder and saying it was time for dinner.

"Eurgh," said Ron.

Harry frowned at him. "Are you okay? You look kind of...peaky."

"I don't feel good," Ron croaked, and rolled over to avoid the light that was in his eyes since Harry had pulled back the red velvet curtains surrounding his bed. "I'm not coming."

Shrugging, although Ron couldn't see it, Harry said, "All right. So I assume now is not the time to ask how the potion worked?"

"No," Ron said, his voice muffled in his pillow. "Later."

"Well, I'm going to dinner, then. I'll talk to you later."

To Ron's great relief, Harry shut the curtains, and Ron lay in the darkness, blinking and trying not to think. He forced his eyes shut and somehow fell back asleep.

***

Ginny ate dinner quickly, hardly noticing that her youngest brother wasn't at the table, which was rare. She shoved her plate back as soon as she finished and went to stand outside the Great Hall doors, and waited for Draco to come out.

She knew, from the weeks of watching him at every little chance she had, that he would finish much faster than Crabbe and Goyle and leave to go back to the dormitory, typically by himself, the very second he was done. So Ginny was ready when he came through the doors, and she touched his shoulder to attract his attention.

Before she even knew what was happening, something shattered in her jaw, and blackness enclosed her before she even hit the floor.

***

"Check," Seamus said, with a great feeling of satisfaction, and put his hands behind his head, grinning at Hermione. This was their third game of the day, and she was still putting off her homework, even though it was after dinner.

She scowled at him. "I know, I know, you're winning. I'm just going to run upstairs and grab a sweater, all right? I'll be back in a minute."

Seamus grinned again. "Fine. You're just postponing the losing, you know."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, feeling immature, and went up the stairs to the dormitory. She hit a solid object which she realized was another person turning the corner too quickly and was about to apologize when she realized it was Ron, and he was a ghastly pale greenish color.

"Ron, are you--"

She couldn't even finish her sentence before he pushed roughly past her, running into the boys' bathroom. Following more slowly, Hermione waited for the awful retching sounds to stop, then went in when she heard water running in a sink.

Ron didn't seem surprised to see her as he splashed his face with water and wiped his mouth with a trembling hand. He turned, still not speaking, to leave, but as he let go of the sink he'd been holding, his knees buckled and he sank to the floor. Hermione rushed forward to catch him, and although he nearly crushed her with his weight on her slight form, she still struggled to help hold him upright.

"Do you want me to go get someone else to help you back?" she said quietly, trying to at least support his upper body as he stumbled to his feet.

He shook his head, freckles standing outright on his deathly pale face. "I can make it," he said, his voice raspy, although he continued to allow her to hold her arm around his shoulder. They walked very slowly back toward the Gryffindor fifth-year boys dorm room, and Hermione followed him inside and helped him to lie back in his bed.

She pressed her hand to his forehead, noting that he didn't seem to be feverish. "Ron, what is it? Are you ill, or is it something else?"

Hesitantly, in a croaky voice, he told her that he'd felt sick earlier in the day and decided to just go to bed. "But..." he trailed off. "I had one of those nightmares again, you know, and it woke me up, and I just felt worse."

Hermione smoothed back his hair. "Ron...I'm really sorry. I've completely forgotten your dreams lately. A few weeks ago, I bought this book...well, I suppose it's not necessary to tell you about it now, but I think it can help. I've assembled most of the ingredients for the potion that'll help you remember what your nightmares are about, except one that I have to get from the Forbidden Forest, but I'll do that as soon as I can and we'll fix what's wrong with you, all right?"

Nodding weakly, his eyes drifting shut, he murmured, "There's something else I have to tell you...later..."

"Shh," she whispered. "Don't worry about anything else right now. I'll tell Madam Pomfrey to come see you tomorrow, and you probably won't have to go to class. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Mm," said Ron, already mostly asleep. Hermione waited until his breathing was deep and even, and then she pulled the curtains around his bed shut and left.

***

Ginny returned to consciousness slowly, still feeling very tired. Her jaw throbbed, and she could feel something cold pressing down on it. She moved the rest of her body gingerly, and the sheets rustled loudly, something her own never did. As her eyes opened slowly, Draco's face came in to clearer and clearer focus above her.

"What?..." she said weakly, but it hurt to talk with the wrapped ice pressing on her face.

Draco gave her a charming and sympathetic half-smile that, even now, made her want to melt. "Do you remember what happened?" He gently plucked the ice pack off her and set it aside.

"Mm," she said negatively.

Squeezing her hand gently, Draco whispered, "I hit you on accident coming out of the Great Hall, because I didn't know who you were. It broke your jaw, and knocked you out. You're in the Infirmary. I told Madam Pomfrey we were playing Quidditch and a Bludger hit you, but I don't think she believes me."

"Mm," said Ginny noncommittally.

"I see our patient is awake," someone said, and Ginny placed Madam Pomfrey's voice. "Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco moved out of the way as the nurse bent down to examine her. "Do you know where you are, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny nodded, and winced, because moving her head jarred her jaw. "The Infirmary."

"And you recall how you got here?"

"We were playing Quidditch," she said blandly. "I didn't see the Bludger coming."

Madam Pomfrey looked at her with a sharp eye, then said, "I don't believe you have a concussion, so I have no reason to keep you here, as I have healed your broken jaw. It'll be tender for a few hours, but you should be fine by morning. I can give you some Pain-Relieving Potion, if you like."

Ginny nodded gingerly and accepted the liquid the nurse poured down her throat.

"I'll help her out," Draco said, from behind the nurse, and Ginny was surprised to find that she could stand and her legs still worked properly. Madam Pomfrey held the door open for them, and Draco's arm tightened around her shoulders. He stopped her a few steps away from the door.

"I am so, so sorry," he said, turning to face her and looking right in her eyes. "I didn't know who you were, and I was just paranoid. I know you're probably angry at me--"

Smiling slowly, afraid to move her mouth too much, Ginny interrupted. "I'm not angry with you. I know it was an accident." She prodded her jaw gently, feeling the soreness recede some as the Pain-Relieving Potion began to work. "That must have been some punch you threw, Draco."

He grinned. "It was amazing, if I do say so myself. I would have been thrilled if it had been anyone else but you." He turned, and they continued walking back toward Gryffindor tower.

Ginny recalled the reason she'd been trying to talk to him in the first place and questioned, "Draco--what happened this afternoon?"

"Oh--that," he said lightly. "It's not a big deal. Listen, you should go get some rest and I'll explain it tomorrow, all right?"

Deciding to accept his explanation for now, Ginny kissed his cheek and stepped into the Gryffindor portrait hole. As she entered the common room, she was startled to find that several of the other Gryffindors were staring at her with frank amazement.

Hermione was the first to say something, stepping up and away from her wizard's chess game with Seamus. "Oh--Ginny. What happened?"

"Is it that--"

"You have a horrible bruise all over one side of your face," Hermione said, putting her fingertips lightly on the injured area. "What--"

Ginny had decided it'd probably be better to tell the Quidditch story. "I got hit by a Bludger, and it broke my jaw. Madam Pomfrey healed it, though, and she said it'd be fine by morning."

The older girl shook her head as if to clear it. Most of the other students had returned to their previous activities, shifting the focus away from Ginny. "My goodness. This certainly isn't a good day for the Weasley family."

Tilting her head to one side confusedly, Ginny asked, "What do you mean?"

Hermione explained to her about Ron.

Ginny furrowed her brow. "That sounds horrible. I hope he'll be all right."

Hermione shrugged. "I told Madam Pomfrey to check on him tomorrow. I think after he gets some rest he'll be fine, so he probably just wants to be left alone."

Putting her hand to her bruised jaw, Ginny said, "Well, that's all right. I think I'm just going to go to bed, too, and let this heal." She felt a twinge of guilt at lying to Hermione about how she'd been injured, but it would be horribly awkward to admit that Draco had unintentionally hit her.

"Goodnight, then," Hermione said, and went back to her chess game with Seamus. Ginny began to climb the stairs, but felt a strange sensation and glanced back. For some reason, Harry's green eyes were still focused on her, and he had a very odd expression on his face.

***

"Now," said Professor McGonagall the next day, to a class of fifth-year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, "our lesson today may not seem very interesting to you. But it is crucially important. We are going to practice very specific transfiguration--so specific, in fact, that I am going to show you an object, and you are going to transfigure your desks to an exact replica of that object, down to the very last detail. This can be useful in terms of making precise copies of things, and it is essential that you pay very close attention."

Harry slid down further in his seat. His first four years at Hogwarts, he'd had some difficulty paying close attention, especially in History of Magic, but so far this term, things were going much worse. Nothing seemed to be able to entertain him for very long, and he would drift off and think about Ron and Hermione and the way things used to be and suddenly the class would be over and he wouldn't have a clue what had been discussed.

"I'm going to partner you up," McGonagall said, and Harry jerked his head up, "and then both of you will come up to study the object that will be your final result. Let's see...Thomas and Weasley...Granger and Brown...Finnigan and Potter..."

She continued, but Harry couldn't listen any more. He sneaked a glance at Seamus, and could see the other boy's ears were turning red, and Harry knew that he was uncomfortable as well.

When Professor McGonagall finished giving directions, most of the students stood up to pair with their partners. Harry stood up slowly, and Seamus approached him with a wary look. Before the whole issue of Hermione had divided them, they would have chatted easily about Quidditch or something meaningless, but now, while the rest of the class broke into bursts of talking and laughing, the two of them stood silently together, waiting until McGonagall called their names to see the object they were to end up with. It was a silver cup, ornately decorated with green jewels and very old-looking. There was a scratch on the stem of the goblet.

Both of them looked at it for a moment, then found a desk and pulled out their wands.

"I'll start," Harry said quickly, to avoid another awkward silence. He tapped the desk and it immediately began shrinking (to Harry's great relief; he'd hoped that it wouldn't blow up to the size of the room) while Seamus stood off to one side.

"Harry," he began, and Harry glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He laid another spell on the tiny desk and it turned to silver. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"Oh?" said Harry, realizing he sounded haughty and not caring enough to fix it. "What's that?"

"It's...Hermione," Seamus said, as the figure reformed itself and began to be shaped similarly to the cup McGonagall had shown them. "You know...I've been spending a lot of time with her lately..."

"Right," said Harry, not wanting to hear any more of the details. "I know."

"She's unhappy," Seamus said bluntly, causing Harry to start and look straight at him. "It's because of you. She won't tell me what happened between you two after that day at Hogsmeade, but I can tell she would really like to be friends with you again and--"

Harry sighed tiredly. "Did she tell you that she was the one that got angry at me and ran away? I still had a nosebleed then. I couldn't really chase after her and beg for forgiveness."

"Well," said Seamus awkwardly. "No, she hasn't shared any of the details. I just know that--" he broke off abruptly. "Harry. Why are you turning the cup purple?"

"I...what?" Harry said, and turned to look. Bugger, he thought, it's happened again. The goblet was now a vibrant shade of violet, and even when he tapped his wand on it to turn it back, nothing happened.

"Here, ah...I'll do it," Seamus said, and got their transfiguration project back on the right track. "Is your wand..."

"Yes," Harry cut him off. "There's something wrong with it. I guess you'll have to finish it up." He was tempted to walk away, but that seemed too rude.

"Anyway," said Seamus, as Harry put his wand away, "I just...know that you two were good friends before then, and I hate to see it wrecked, because I know how unhappy it makes her, and you must miss her too. So... I just thought I'd let you know. You don't have to do anything about it, just realize that she probably wants to make up with you--"

"Right," said Harry tersely. "Thanks for the update."

Seamus finished the transfiguration and stood back to look. "Think it's good?"

"There's another jewel, there," Harry said, and pointed. Seamus fixed it. "There. Fine."

Hesitantly, Seamus stuck his hand out to Harry. "Don't be angry with me. I haven't done anything to make you mad, have I?"

Only stolen away my best friend, Harry thought, but he didn't say it out loud, particularly because it wasn't exactly accurate. But he took Seamus' hand and shook it. "No, we're fine. So...how about those Chudley Cannons lately?"

***

Charlie was having a difficult time clearing his mind. It had been good for the time being to distract himself with Fleur, who had been flirting with him since the day he arrived back at Hogwarts, but now that he needed to focus and be at his best for the arraignment, he wished he had simply limited himself to the walk he had planned out.

Ginny had also come to tell him that Ron was ill, and a vague sort of brotherly concern was floating about in his mind as well. Those things combined with the fact that Remus was supposed to be here now and wasn't made Charlie rather unable to remember precisely what he was supposed to say to the judges in order to allow Remus to stay at the castle while they continued to prepare for his trial.

The door clicked open, and Charlie whirled around to see that Remus had finally arrived, really only a minute or so late. His hair was neatly clipped and styled, and he was dressed in an old but still nice brown suit.

Forcing a casual smile on his face, Charlie asked, "Are you ready to go? Any last-minute details you want to go over?"

Remus shrugged. "No, I think we'll be fine. I mean, I don't have to do anything, right?"

"Right," Charlie affirmed. "You just have to be there and look nice."

"I've already got one down," Remus said, sounding awfully upbeat for a wizard heading to his arraignment. "Let's go get the other."

"All right," agreed Charlie, and they quickly Apparated to the Ministry Courthouse.

Arabella Figg gave them an imperious look when they first arrived. "I'm glad to see you've made it, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Lupin. You may speak first, Mr. Weasley."

Charlie took a deep breath and began to speak.

***

Ron lay awake in his dormitory bed, his whole body aching. He wished that he was able to take fuller advantage of a day off, but really, he just felt weak and tired and sore, although he was thankful that he no longer felt like his stomach was trying to exit via his mouth. Trying without success to remember how he'd felt after various other terrible things that had happened to him--getting knocked out playing the giant chess game to get to the Sorcerer's Stone first year, having to face the huge spiders in the Forbidden Forest with Harry second year, thinking that Sirius Black was going to kill him third year--Ron decided that this was probably the worst he'd ever felt in his life.

At least he didn't have to go to class. Harry had tried to wake him and make him get up, but Ron had used various one-syllable words like mmph and urgh to communicate that he didn't feel well enough to move. He was certain that he wouldn't have made it through a single lesson, and was glad that Hermione had had the sense to send Madam Pomfrey to check up on him. He'd hardly been awake when she'd come to see him in the morning, during the time when he'd normally be eating breakfast, but he vaguely recalled her taking his temperature and blood pressure and then prescribing at least a day of bed rest. After she'd left, he'd fallen back into a drugged sort of sleep, then finally woken in the late afternoon and was currently unable to return to his slumber.

Ron was staring up at the top of his four-poster bed and hoping that someone would come and bring him a glass of water when Hermione came in and sat down on the side of his bed. She'd pulled the curtain away, and he flinched at the bright bars of sunlight that splayed out on his quilt and in his face.

"Hey," she said quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, I guess, though still fairly horrific," he said.

"I'm sorry."

Ron didn't know what to say to that, so he just sort of shrugged, although it hurt. "Oh. Thanks for sending Madam Pomfrey in. She did let me have the day off, and maybe tomorrow, too."

"Well, you deserve it," she told him. "I haven't ever seen anyone so sick." Hermione picked at something on his quilt. "I just came in to see how you are, and to say that I'm going to go in the Forbidden Forest tonight and find the last ingredient for the potion that'll tell us what you're dreaming about so hopefully we can fix it. It should be done by Wednesday."

"Be careful," he told her seriously. "Is Harry going to go?"

Hermione snorted. "I doubt it."

"You should have someone come with you. You know how dangerous it is."

"I'll be fine. You know I'm careful."

He shrugged again. "Thank you, then, I guess."

She smiled and patted his hand. "Feel better. Is there anything I can get for you before I go?"

"Just a glass of water, if you don't mind," he said, and she left the room for a moment. In her absence, Harry came in, setting down a stack of books on his bed.

Harry looked across the room at Ron. "Hey. Are you all right?"

"I will be," he told Harry, "later, anyway. Sometime--not now--there's something I have to tell you both--"

"Here you go," Hermione interrupted, coming back into the room. She handed the water to Ron, who accepted it gratefully and began taking small, careful sips. Ron saw her glance up and see Harry, but neither acknowledged the other's presence.

"Well...I've got to get back to studying," Hermione told him, "but I hope you feel better soon, and I'll be going tonight to get the final ingredient for the potion so that hopefully we can diagnose you, all right?" She touched his forehead in a very matronly manner. "Bye."

"What did she mean, go to get the final ingredient for the potion?" Harry asked, when Hermione was gone, and Ron had to explain.

"That's so like her," Harry muttered resentfully, "to go traipsing off into the Forest by herself at night--"

Ron snorted. "Right, like we've never done anything like that before."

Harry paused and bit his lip. "I suppose that's true. Well--I'll just have to follow her, then." He grinned. "Of course, knowing Hermione, she'll just get angry if I save her life."

"I bet she'd be more angry if she died."

"Thanks so much for that thought," Harry said. Hours later, when he saw Hermione coming down from her dorm room carrying a cloak and her school bag, Harry dashed upstairs to grab his Invisibility Cloak and followed her as she snuck out the front doors and headed towards the Forbidden Forest.