Declaro: Rites of Spring

The Importance of Being Earnest

In the second week of term the importance of robes, rites, and owls with ribbons exploded. If there was a trigger for that, Harry couldn't see what it was. Perhaps families that had considered participating had waited to see who would do it first - and if that was it then the Malfoys must have been the right family.

Seamus went to London to meet his mother on the weekend. Everyone knew what for, though Ron wouldn't let anyone ask about it in the common room on Sunday night, and Seamus clearly decided going to bed early was better than facing up to a Weasley sulk.

Monday's Daily Prophet included an interview with Cornelius Fudge, which expressed his warm admiration for those families who wanted to maintain the most fundamental wizarding traditions, at which Hermione snorted indelicately. The Patils received their "green robes", as they were apparently called, and they weren't the only ones either. Snape gave them a significant look, but they went by arm in arm, and giggled when he passed. Lavender said there was nothing he could do, the Ministry had approved it and most parents were behind it after all. And what could you really object to, anyway? It was some kind of security, if you made an engagement; and if you didn't, well it was just fun then, and better clothes and special parties.

Tuesday's Witch's Weekly included a picture of Draco in his green robes, looking glamorous, dignified and youthful all at once, Harry supposed. Draco turned his grey eyes slightly towards the window, in recognition of the obvious. It was a suspiciously professional portrait, and the Gryffindor boys took bets on whether those bookcases could be found anywhere in Hogwarts. Hermione assured them Dumbledore would never have allowed Rita Skeeter on the grounds.

Wednesday brought the rush of special owls. Another for Draco, which must have been at least six, though Harry wasn't counting. But white owls also came for Zabini and Parkinson, and at least one other Slytherin that Harry missed because everyone tracked the two owls trailing ribbons to Ravenclaw. He then forgot about the other houses entirely when a ribboned owl came down low along the Gryffindor table.

Flicking its white ribbons irritably across the plates and platters, the owl balanced itself between a jug of pumpkin juice and the pile of newspapers expanding in the wake of Neville's owl-post. Seamus and Neville shifted nervously while the owl settled, and let out a shared breath when she clearly directed her attention to Dean. The entire table watched him sit there until she made a soft impatient noise. He tentatively untied the small scroll fastened above the ribbons. No one said a word as the scroll expanded into a smooth white and gold roll and the owl left in a hasty flurry. After a long beat or two, someone further down the table giggled and Dean looked up with a grin - "Guess I'm the first Gryffindor after all, Harry."

* * *

HARRY:

Ron was still swinging his bag irritably against the wall all the way to Divination.

"Ron." Another thunk. "Ron!"

"It can't really matter that much." Thunk. "I mean, so what? No one's saying you have to do it. Or me. Or anything." Thunk. "Dean can if he wants you know. Seamus too."

"It's bloody ridiculous." He's finally going to say something. I lean against a window ledge, and Ron scowls at the floor. But I'd nearly be grateful for Trelawney's intervention, because while I'm his friend I definitely don't need this. Ron has no. . . I think it's tact.

"It's all a Death Eater plot, I bet," Ron, well, whines. "I mean nobody's heard of the bloody Rite of Engagement for bloody ages."

"So, Seamus and Dean, their parents are Death Eaters now?"

He huffs, "Well, no. They can just be bloody idiots."

"Ok." There's another thunk and then he drops the bag entirely and walks over to me, looking down at a huddle of 1st years being intimidated by Madame Hooch. We can hear her shrill whistle.

"It's not like it's a real competition where, you know, the best wizard will win or anything." Ron has moved on from talking to ranting. "It's just another stupid scheme. Just another complication."

"Win what?" Cause I genuinely don't know.

"Just win, you know. Be the best. I mean, if you can get the proper clothes and, say, tutors for all the competitions. . ."

I know that if I say it, then I'll have said it and I won't ever be able to take it back. But if Ron's going to go round being a total idiot, and upsetting the whole year because he thinks someone has something. . . "Is this about Hermione?"

* * *

Everyone knew not to mention the rite around Ron. So, only when he was evidently occupied, playing chess, talking Quidditch, and other everyday things, did the others swap gossip from other houses or try and reach a Gryffindor position on the whole business. There even seemed to be a "distract Ron" roster, though Hermione and Harry pretended not to notice.

On Friday there was a letter in the Prophet from Arthur Weasley questioning whether teenage wizards and witches should really be subjected to the attentions of their elders "sanctioned by an archaic tradition which wizarding society has long outgrown." Ron was ever so happy about it and talked about organising a petition to Dumbledore. It was bit too much like calling them all children to be popular in the 7th year common room, but everyone opted not to mention it. By Saturday, though, when a Hogsmeade pass for the upper year had everyone excited, people were being less cautious.

Ron blinked hard when Lavender asked Padma for the second time whether she was quite sure they could get green robes in Hogsmeade. He flinched when he saw Seamus had traced a gold S in the air over Dean's head, and they happily quarreled about removing it. Everyone knew that Sarah - a Ravenclaw who graduated last year - was the girl who had sent a declaration of interest to Dean, and Dean was very happy to be teased about it. Then Neville came in with his new copy of A Youth's Guide to the Rite of Engagement. There was some enthusiastic jostling for a position near the book, and when Parvati noticed another special robe for a forthcoming feast Ron leapt up with a growl. The common room door slammed loudly.

Hermione is already scolding, "Parvati, really. You know. . ."

"Hermione, can't you talk to him?" she replies. "We shouldn't have to be all secretive just because Ron isn't happy." Everyone could feel the murmur of assent, even the ones who were automatically on Ron's side. "It's about time we got to do something fun."

Hermione has no choice but to be Hermione. "Ron's right to be concerned. Nothing just appears like this, and almost every Slytherin family. I mean, not only Slytherins and it's not like Slytherins exactly are or have to be evil. . . But, I know. . . but it's Ron."

They shuffled around one another nervously as people went to bed. Down the hall they could hear Parvarti explaining that the summer robes would suit her much more, and from up the boys' stairway Seamus called out "Goodnight Sa-rah" in a teasing falsetto and Dean took off after him. When only she and Harry and Neville were left, Hermione asked, "Dumbledore doesn't like it either, does he? Students all distracted, dressed up in some kind of uniform - ok, different kind of uniform."

Neville met Harry's eyes but neither of them had anything helpful to offer except, "You know we're definitely on Ron's side."

"We all are," Neville added.

"You mean," she said, "even if he's obviously being an idiot."

"Especially then."

* * *

HARRY:

Ron's already there, pulling loose pieces from the end of his broom with pliers from the kit I had given him at Christmas. There's more than an hour till Quidditch practice, but he's avoiding the latest round of who received owls and look it says on this page...

"So it's about Hermione, right?" I ask.

He puts the pliers down. Puts the broom down. We've barely spoken the last couple of days, not because I'm all for the rites, because I'm not; I'm just not against them either. I can see, really, why it's appealing. I mean flattering, to begin with, to be asked to make some kind of major commitment - though being on Ron's side and publicly not talking about it means I'm still not entirely sure what kind of commitment. And then, I don't know about Ron, but I haven't got a clue what I'm going to do next, when Hogwarts is finished. Playing Quidditch for a living isn't a very realistic aim. There's not even any kind of closure on the big evil that dominates my life. So to have something set out, even someone to talk to about it...

"No!" I wait it out. "Not really. Maybe."

He's twirling the pliers now, and I'm tempted to take them from him. You know, just in case. "Only," she says, "You know."

"Um. Maybe. But I'd know a lot more if you'd just say it."

"Right. No reason why Harry Potter would get it, I guess. Hah." And that's a really bitter laugh, and I suddenly feel really pissed off about it.

"What won't I get, Ron?" He rolls his eyes. "Or don't you have to explain - you just get to make everyone else tense and miserable."

"It's not really your problem is it. Maybe because you are just a little bit rich, famous, and popular, and good-looking, and..."

"And...?" I can't believe this.

"Just leave me alone."

And then I know he means it, and everything seems out of focus because Ron is always on my side, and I'm always Harry to him, to him and Hermione, and never the boy who. . .

I'm at the door of the broomshed faster than I should be. I should tell him he's just angry. I should give him a chance to take it back. "This would be less stupid if I didn't know what the problem is," I finally say. He doesn't look at me. "She's not going to pick anyone else or anything that's far away from you. It's always going to be you." I can see when he closes his eyes, trying to make me go away. "And you know she probably won't even. . ."

"Could you just leave?" And I would, but I can't when he's so stupidly angry with everyone. "It's not like I asked for your sympathy." And then again, maybe I can.

* * *

HARRY:

There's the usual business of owl-post, but no one is excited by ordinary mail right now. Neville's unfolding the Prophet and there'll be some new historical piece there about a famous wizard or witch's Engagement, and maybe a letter about it as well. One of the girls, or maybe Neville, will read them tonight even though we've already seen it. There's a ribboned owl and most people pay attention to it, though I'm watching the professors at the high table studiously not notice it. I can't really see what kind of dark plot the rite could be part of, and even Mr Weasley owled Ron yesterday saying not to worry about it - he doesn't like it for a lot of reasons, but that doesn't make it evil.

That owl must have gone to Slytherin because Snape gives the upper end of his table a cold glare when they explode into excited giggling. I think anything more cheerful than a smirk must be un-Slytherin. I don't need to wonder who the owl was for because any minute now - yes, here he comes - Colin will run up with the latest news. He's appointed himself semi-official gossip courier, often with photographs of course. He specialises in other houses because we know about our own. Seamus yesterday; and he's more relieved than I expected. This is his second day wearing the green robes, and Ron hasn't spoken to him since he put them on. The first boy in our house, but I bet not the last. Dean will, now he doesn't have to be first. And Neville wants to, I know it. He told me confidentially last night that this seems a really good opportunity to get a position after school that's based on something more than just his marks. We know more than we did about what the rite involves, but I don't think anyone's sure about what it's doing to us.

Colin is even more excited than usual. Apparently Zabini has a declaration, which isn't news, it's not his first, but it's from a man. We always talk about the rite in terms of careers and places to travel or live, even though the pamphlets and books all make it clear there can be other terms to the Engagement. That it might be about sex has pretty much remained an unspoken presumption, because obviously not all job offers will come as a boy-girl partnership. When you think about it, there aren't that many women with the power or position to offer a 7th year boy a really enticing career. And right now that's all so obvious its embarrassing. Before even Seamus can get out any kind of sexual innuendo, Ron's out of his seat and I have a bad bad feeling.

"Zabini!" I'm right behind Ron as he chases after the Slytherins moving out of the Hall. I can't think of any way to stop him that won't make it worse. "Taking the proper death-eater part then?" he calls out. "The Slytherin boys' dorm turns out to be good training after all." They're not saying a thing, which is probably a sign of worse to come; just looking at Ron like he's a particularly ugly magical creature. "Pervert," he adds emphatically.

"Mr Weasley."

Christ. It had to be Snape. And right now, Ron can't be allowed to talk to Snape. "Professor, Ron and I are just leaving."

Ron shakes off my hand, "Piss off, Harry."

"Ten points from Gryffindor for language, Mr Weasley."

Ron's muttered "Bastard" is just loud enough that he has to be caught.

"And another ten. Would you like to try for detention, Mr Weasley? I'm sure Filch has a few appropriate tasks."

Ron doesn't answer, but his fists are clenched. "Well?" Snape prods.

"I'm just talking to Zabini."

"As I have already observed." Snape's shoulders are thrown back and his chin raised - he's doing tall and polite, which is the most dangerous version of Professor Snape. The four Slytherin boys are silent, and not at all smirking. But there's a pleased anticipation about them and there's a small audience assembling, which Snape isn't sending away.

"Pervert, Mr Weasley? This would mean you are not only imputing a sexual intent to the declaration from Dr Figg. . ." He looks for confirmation from Zabini, who inclines his head, "from Dr Figg, but you are maligning relationships between wizards. And here I was under the decided impression that such relationships were one of those topics on which your father repeatedly calls for tolerance." This is going to go downhill really quickly if Snape starts talking about Ron's dad. "On and on about tolerance, really."

"Don't you talk about. . ." I slap my hand roughly over Ron's mouth. He's pulling against me, but if I can hold him till Hermione gets here. . .

"I think I will have to insist on an apology. Mr Potter, you will leave Mr Weasley to his own stupidity." I hang on. "Let him go, now." I have to, but Hermione's finally here, drawn with the expanding crowd. "Well, Mr Weasley?"

"Fine." Ron spits. "I'm sorry Zabini's a pervert." The boy in question rolls his eyes, apparently unaffected. Hermione looks appalled, though I don't think Ron's noticed, and around us the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs also seem pretty unimpressed.

Snape hardly seems taken aback either. "50 points from Gryffindor and a week's detention with me starting at 8 o'clock. And leave your hormones in the Gryffindor tower, Mr Weasley."

He turns away down the hall with a flourish of his cloak. "Get to class all of you."