The Year of Honey and Vinegar

"It's bitter," protested Hermione Granger, pushing away the steaming mug of potion Madame Pomfrey offered her and wrinkling her nose. Shaking with cold, she pulled her flannel blanket a little tighter around her shoulders, grimacing at the acrid taste in her mouth.

"Come on now, Miss Granger, that's a good girl," Madame Pomfrey coaxed as she advanced, foisting the cup on Hermione.

Reluctantly, Hermione accepted the mug; glad at least for the feeble warmth of it on her frozen hands. Her entire body felt stiff and frigid, and there was ice in her hair. Her hands would not stop trembling, and she shivered, chilled even as she drained the last few drops of the foul brew, coughing at the taste.

Teeth chattering, Hermione glanced at the bed on the opposite side of the room, where Draco Malfoy lay, unconscious and bleeding through his bandages. His girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, sat anxiously beside him, her face pinched with worry as she plucked twigs from his hair.

"Is he going to be okay?" Hermione asked, indicating Draco.

Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips, her expression disapproving. "He will be, after a few days rest and some strong potion. The foolish boy, taunting Thestrals! I have never heard of them behaving that way, though, going after a human! Hagrid has said ours are especially well trained. Still, it's in their nature."

"It's not their fault," Hermione insisted, rubbing her hands together rapidly in hopes of producing warmth. "Malfoy completely lost his head. He was firing spells at them. He almost killed a little one!"

"Well, he was quite lucky you were there," Madame Pomfrey said seriously as she gathered up the empty potion vials scattered on the bedside table. "Thestrals are dangerous creatures, you know, quite violent. But what were you doing outside in a blizzard, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shrugged, sighing. She did not know whether to feel pleased with herself for saving Draco Malfoy's life or angry that he was still in the land of the living. All she knew was that she was exhausted. She could still hear the panicked shouts of Draco when the Thestrals had first approached him, and then his sharp scream as the first one had bitten his arm and dragged him deeper into the forest. It was not an incident she was likely to forget. "I was just going to visit Hagrid," she lied, not wanting to admit to Madame Pomfrey that she had been pacing outside in a blizzard because she was angry at Ron. Teachers counted on Hermione to be more sensible then that.

"Lucky for that! Mr Malfoy is going to have you to thank when he pulls through," Madame Pomfrey said, pursing her lips as her brow furrowed. "Though I must say, I don't like the look of that arm. He's had trouble with it before."

"Can I go now?" Hermione asked, frowning. She did not want to contemplate heroism. All she wanted was to go upstairs, throw everyone out of the prefect's bathroom and submerge herself in a tub for hours until she forgot about the whole rotten afternoon.

"Yes, but take care not to stress yourself, and you might want to come back tomorrow for a good dose of Pepper-Up potion, to chase away that chill," Madame Pomfrey warned.

Stifling a yawn, Hermione rose from the bed, taking one more look at Draco before she walked out the door. She could not help but wonder what the consequences of her rescue would be.

~*~*----------*~*~

Twenty minutes later, Hermione Granger found herself up to her chin in water so hot it turned her skin bright red. Her auburn hair floated out behind her and she closed her eyes, breathing in the fragrant cinnamon scented bubbles. The hot bath was finally starting to chase the cold away, though it was also making her incredibly drowsy.

A sharp knock on the door startled her. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

Ron Weasley pulled open the door to the prefect's bathroom and walked inside. "Neville said he saw you levitating Malfoy up the stairs to the hospital wing. What happened?"

Hermione sighed. "He was attacked by thestrals; he's in the hospital wing now."

"Really?" Ron asked, unable to stop looking delighted. He cleared his throat, his expression sheepish. "Um, Hermione, I wanted you to know, er, well I'm sorry," he finished rapidly, eyes on the floor. "About the fight and all. I didn't mean to rip up your owl from Krum."

Hermione sighed. "Are you apologising because you really mean it, or does this have something to do with the fact that you and Harry still have that huge essay from Snape to finish, and you're both absolutely clueless?"

"Hermione! That's not fair," Ron muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and submerged herself in the tub, hoping that when she came up for air Ron would be gone. Boys! She thought to herself, annoyed. Transfiguration and Ancient Runes were second nature to her, but she doubted she would ever understand men.

"Why did you rip up my letter?" Hermione asked as she rose up from the water and saw Ron still standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Why do you write to him anyway?" Ron asked, heated. "I don't trust him!"

"He's my penpal," Hermione pointed out logically.

"He is not just a penpal," Ron declared. "Penpals don't send roses. Penpals don't send boxes of chocolates. Penpals don't do kissing spells on the letters they send, Hermione."

"And that gives you the right to tear up my letter? I didn't even get to read it, and now I have to write back telling him why!"

"I'm looking out for your best interests!"

"And that includes mutilating my correspondence?"

"He's after something," Ron shouted. "He doesn't just like you as a friend."

Hermione was sorely tempted to splash Ron with water, or reach for her wand and fire some jinx his way. "Again, who has made you the guardian of my virtue? I'm seventeen, Ron, I can write to whoever I want. Now get out! And no, I won't help you with your stupid essay."

"But, Hermione ---"

"-- Go!" Hermione glared at him. She'd had enough of Ron's jealousy; him tearing up her letter in a fit of anger had just been the icing on the cake. "Just leave me alone."

"I said I was sorry!"

"Well you're obviously not!" Hermione shouted. "But stay a little longer and you will be!"

Ron glared at her and stormed out, slamming the door loudly behind him, and Hermione picked up her towel, pressed it to her face to muffle the sound and screamed. Normally she was good about keeping her temper, but there was something about Ron that always seemed to drive her mad. Maybe it was that pained, pity provoking look in his eye that he got when he was angry, or maybe it was the flattering fact that he was jealous over her and Krum. Either way, Hermione hated fighting with him.

The moment of relaxation was over. Hermione climbed out of the tub and towelled herself off.

~*~*----------*~*~

"What happened?" murmured Draco Malfoy an hour later. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to focus. He could make out the familiar blunt sheet of black hair; Pansy Parkinson. Something tall and white kept twisting around her like a dancer. Dimly he could see other shapes, the brute rectangles that were his friends Crabbe and Goyle, and green cloaks that indicated some other Slytherins. "Where am I?"

"You are in the hospital wing," announced Madame Pomfrey, smoothing her white robes across her hips as she crossed the room, carrying a tray of potion. She bent forward, a small smoking glass in her hand. "Here now, sit up, drink this."

Exhausted and sore, Draco struggled to sit up. He did not recall ever feeling quite so weak, and it was rather embarrassing to be in a crowd of his schoolmates and not have the strength to sit up. Gritting his teeth he forced himself into an upright position. "How did I get here?"

"Miss Granger brought you," Madame Pomfrey told him, pushing the cup his way. "Go on now boy, take it, I haven't got all day."

"Granger," sneered Pansy Parkinson. She looked absolutely irate. "Was it that Mudblood who did this to you?" she demanded of Draco, pointing at his arm, which was wrapped in a thick wad of bandages. Draco could see traces of claret seeping through, and imagined he had been cut badly. He knew, however, that it hadn't been Granger's doing. He thought of the sudden lunge of something invisible, ripping and pulling at him, and shuddered.

"Thestrals," Madame Pomfrey confirmed, her lips pursed, looking perturbed. She was, of course, Muggle born herself, and thus sensitive to criticism of that nature. "It was Miss Granger who saved your life, Mr Malfoy."

Draco felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. He remembered following Hermione through the blizzard, making out the bright red of her cloak. He had been spying on her, of course, hoping to find some way to get her into trouble. She had seen him, turned and shouted at him, finally sending a curse his way. It had opened up a cut on his cheek, and then next thing he knew, something cold to the touch which he could not see had been nuzzling him, licking at the wound. Thestrals, of course, it made sense now, but in the whirling snow and shadow it had been a shock. He had been terrified.

"Granger brought me here?" he asked, unable to believe it.

Madame Pomfrey nodded briskly. "Hagrid saw her firing spells at the Thestrals. There were four of them. By the time Hagrid reached her, the Thestrals had backed off, and she was able to levitate you here while Hagrid got to work fixing their pen. And lucky for you she did, Mr Malfoy," she went on. "You could have been trampled to death, or eaten, if she hadn't. You've a bad bite on your arm, two broken ribs, not to mention a great deal of bruising!"

"Oh, Draco," Pansy exclaimed, her face pinched with worry. "It must have been simply awful for you! You could have died!"

"Nah, he could have fought 'em off," declared Goyle heartily as he pounded his left fist into the palm of his right hand. "They just took him by surprise 'sall."

Draco peered up at Crabbe and Goyle, wanting badly to adopt his usual pose of casual egotism, but he was still too out of sorts and mystified. "I, I couldn't see them."

"Lucky for you Miss Granger could!" Madame Pomfrey declared. "Otherwise who knows what would have become of you!"

"She could see them?" Draco asked, surprised. "But in order to see Thestrals, you have to see someone die. Who'd she see die?"

"That's private information, Mr Malfoy, you'll have to ask Miss Granger about it I'm afraid. Now," Madame Pomfrey clapped her hands. "Out with you all. The patient needs to get some sleep."

"I'm not leaving," declared Pansy Parkinson, looking tenderly at Draco. "I'll stay all night if I have to, until you get better!"

Normally, Draco would have been pleased about that, and would have spent the night basking in Pansy's attention while allowing his pals to clap him on the back heroically, but for some reason he felt curiously deflated. His arm hurt, and his side was paining him, but most of all his thoughts were a confusing blur, and he needed time alone to work through them.

"No, it's all right, I'll be fine," he said to Pansy.

Madame Pomfrey took this as her cue and stepped in, pushing the knot of protesting Slytherins from the hospital wing. Draco stared at the ceiling as he listened to Pansy's complaints, wondering if he would be back to normal tomorrow.

~*~* ---------- *~*~

"I told you, no!" Hermione shrieked the next morning on her way to breakfast. She glared at Ron, who was holding out his parchment to her, his face puzzled and upset. "I am not doing your essay for you!"

"I just want you to check it," Ron explained. He exchanged a curious look with Harry, wondering if Hermione had gone mad.

Hermione shoved his hand away, angry. "Check it? Ron, that's a blank piece of parchment you're holding! What exactly am I supposed to check?"

Ron flushed. "Well, I was hoping you would put the right answers in." He sighed. "You know I don't get this Potions stuff, but if Harry and I fail the class, we're done for. No NEWTs, no Auror training."

"You should have thought about that earlier, like last night, when you were up playing Exploding Snap until three in the morning!" She whirled, her rather too thick auburn hair flying out behind her like a flag blowing in a violent wind, leaving a crestfallen Ron and confused looking Harry on the landing.

"Morning, Hermione," Ginny Weasley said pleasantly when Hermione entered the Great Hall and took her usual seat at the Gryffindor table. Ginny pushed a bowl of oatmeal towards Hermione and nodded at the cream coloured envelope, tied with a blue ribbon which was resting near Hermione's empty plate. "That came for you, just now."

"Am I late?" Hermione asked, glancing around the room. Normally post did not arrive until breakfast was nearly finished.

Ginny shook her head, reaching for a peach. "No, no one else has got mail yet. This one came just now. A barn owl brought it."

Hermione picked up the envelope and slowly turned it over. She recognized the handwriting on the envelope immediately - Viktor's usual bold strokes. With a sigh, she set the letter back down and reached for a piece of toast from the nearby tray.

"You're not going to read it?" Ginny asked, puzzled. Ginny lived for letters, especially romantic love letters, which the envelope in front of Hermione most certainly was.

Hermione shrugged and pretended to be concentrating very hard on peeling her orange. She wished she had brought some homework to do; no one ever nagged her when she was engrossed in her books. She glared at the letter out of the corner of her eye, noting the perfect knot in the ribbon. Viktor was always so precise. Frowning, she stuffed it in her pocket, harder then necessary, hoping it would wrinkle.

The problem was that she was growing tired of Viktor. He had been interesting at first, of course, a famous international Quidditch player who spoke five languages, a fascinating visitor from a distant school. The attention Hermione had received, showing up at the dance arm in arm with him, had been rewarding. Even Draco Malfoy had not had anything nasty to say. But lately, Hermione was getting tired of hearing about endless Quidditch matches, which was all Viktor seemed to have to talk about. Her replies to him had grown shorter and shorter, but instead of taking the hint, Viktor had sent more gifts her way; ancient magical texts, French made dress robes, boxes of gourmet candy, singing bouquets. That made it all the more difficult, since he knew exactly what she wanted, gift wise. She wanted to break it off, but Hermione was not a cruel girl, and she was not inclined to be a heart breaker.

Then, of course, there was the matter of Ron. The issue had become a power struggle between her and Ron, and Hermione knew if she broke up with Viktor, Ron would gloat and brag and then make a move, and how terribly embarrassing that would be. Hermione loved her friend, as a friend, but the idea of dating Ron Weasley was, well, frightening. Hermione thought Ron was nice and funny, but she could not imagine lying beside him hour after hour, reciting romantic poetry and feeding him chocolate strawberries or discussing issues like the history of magic in Britain during a carriage ride, which was exactly what she wanted from a boyfriend. Ron's idea of a date, she thought ruefully, would be cold ham sandwiches over a game of Gobstones.

"Hermione," Ron said, breaking into Hermione's thoughts as he sat down at the table. "I've been thinking and, and you're right. Harry and I should do our own homework from now on. We shouldn't be asking you all the time."

Trying not to choke on her toast, Hermione turned to gape at him. Ron was the picture of contrition, his lips pouty and twisted, his eyes dark and scowling.

"Really?"

He nodded, and beside him Harry also nodded, a weak grin on his face.

"Well, er, that's good," Hermione told them, feeling a little bit better.

"There's just one thing, Hermione," Harry said.

She frowned. "Yes?"

"The thing is, it doesn't matter how hard we work on our homework from now on, because if we get zeros on this big essay, we're done for. It's a T for us for sure," Ron explained.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She had expected something like this. Ron's eyes, shining with hope, made her feel guilty, even though she was annoyed with him. Finally she heaved a sigh and pushed away her breakfast. She wasn't hungry anyway. "All right, but just this once! This is the last time!"

"Of course," Ron agreed, nodding. Hermione had delivered that same ultimatum before, hundreds of times. She never stuck to it. Ron hated to manipulate her, but, well, she was smarter then he and Harry, after all, didn't that justify it? "We promise."

"Absolutely," Harry added, looking seriously relieved. Harry was even more determined then Ron to become an Auror someday; his favourite daydream was of blowing away Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy with a single, well aimed curse. "Thanks, Hermione."

"Yeah," she replied, reaching for the parchment Ron was offering. "I can't believe you didn't even fill in the title. Do you even know what the essay was on?"

Ron shook his head. "Not really."

"Figures," Hermione replied sourly, but a few moments later she was deeply engrossed in her writing, scribbling madly and feeling a lot better. There was nothing like hard work to get her troubles off her mind.

~*~*----------*~*~

It took Hermione until the end of breakfast to complete the essays for Harry and Ron, and after that there were classes, so it wasn't until the end of dinner that Hermione had a chance to open Viktor's letter. She excused herself from the table, which was completely unnecessary, since Harry and Ron had all their attention focused on the turkey and cranberries. She did not want to go up to the common room, which would be noisy with Gryffindors talking and studying, and the dorms were just as bad. Peering over her shoulder, Hermione ducked down an empty hallway, hoping to catch a few minutes of privacy.

When she got to a shadowy, secluded spot, Hermione reached into her robes and pulled out the envelope, still crisp despite her poor treatment of it. She was just about to undo the ribbon when she felt someone's eyes on her. Glancing up the staircase, Hermione saw Draco Malfoy stepping off the bottom stair. He looked different somehow, in a way she couldn't quite place. His arm was in a sling, of course, and he still had a nasty cut on his cheek, but neither of those things explained it. Hermione stared at him coldly, bracing herself for an attack, but none came. Draco fixed her with an unblinking stare for a moment, and then turned and hurried off in the direction of the Great Hall.

"Stupid git," Hermione muttered to herself. If it was anyone but Malfoy, she would have said hello and asked how they were feeling, but normal etiquette went out the window when one was dealing with Draco. Hermione wondered what was wrong with him. Normally he would have shouted something rude in her direction, or sneered at her, the way he always did. Hermione shook her head, deciding that Malfoy was probably still drugged up on potion. Irritable, she ripped open the letter.

"My dearest Hermione,

I have not received an owl from you in two weeks. I hope everything is well at Hogwarts. Everything is fine here. We are practising six hours a day now in preparation for the tournament in Spain. I hope you'll come. The team is improving. We won our last two games, but we are still working on that Donovan dive. Did I tell you about that in my last letter? It was developed by the Irish, but their players are not quite as skilled as we are. By the way, I hope you liked the chocolates. I bought them in Paris, when we were there for our match.

We will be in Britain over Christmas, and I hope to see you. Perhaps we can meet during your weekends at Hogsmeade, at that tea shop we went to last summer. Send an owl with your reply. I miss you.

Love, Viktor"

Hermione felt a sudden pressure on her lips and crumpled the letter absently. Viktor's kissing spells left something to be desired, though Hermione supposed she ought not to fault him for that. As a professional player, he did not have a lot of time to practise his charm work. Hermione sighed and turned, heading for the stairs. She decided that she should at least be glad the letter was brief. Maybe Viktor was getting the message after all.

"There you are!"

Hermione turned and saw Ron, Ginny and Harry leaving the Great Hall. Both Harry and Ron looked stuffed to the brim with food, and were grinning madly.

"Why'd you leave?" Ron asked. "The dinner was really good." He paused, noticing the envelope in Hermione's hand. "What's that?"

"Hmm? Nothing," Hermione said absently, quickly hiding her hand behind her back.

Ron frowned. "Hermione."

Hermione shrugged, feeling annoyed. She held out the letter. "Here then, if you're going to nag about it! It's a letter from Viktor."

Ron made a face, but pulled the letter from the envelope and read, his eyes trailing down the page. When he got to the end, his eyes bugged out and he covered his mouth, looking shocked and sickened. "Ew! He put a kissing spell on it!"

Ginny burst into laughter as she watched Ron wipe his hand across his mouth rapidly several times, as if afraid he would catch a disease. Even in her bad mood, Hermione had to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling. Ron always completely overreacted.

"He wants to meet you for Christmas?" Ron demanded when he regained his composure. "What did I tell you, he's after something!"

"Oh, please!" Hermione snapped, ripping her letter out of Ron's hands and stuffing it into her pocket. "All he said is he wants to see me during the Hogsmeade weekend! All he wants is for us to go have a cup of tea and a chat!"

"In Madame Puddifoot's shop!" Ron shouted, accusing wildly, his red hair falling over his eyes. "I know about that place! He wants to snog you over a cup of tea! He's a womanizer! He wants to turn you into a -- into a scarlet woman!"

Ginny snorted loudly and seemed on the verge of collapsing into giggles again, but Hermione was not amused. "Oh give it a rest, Ron," Hermione said, her voice rising with frustration. "Anyway, what business is it of yours? You took Lavender Brown there before, and I don't hear you calling her a scarlet woman."

"That's different!" Ron said, heated.

"'Only cause Lavender wouldn't kiss you," Ginny interjected pragmatically. "And because you're in love with Hermione."

Ron went red. "I am not," he said, staring at the ground with apparent fascination.

"You are too!" Ginny shot back. "And anyway, you're being ridiculous. Hermione can do what she wants with her life. Personally, I think she and Viktor are perfect together!"

"What would you know about it?" Ron demanded. "You don't know anything about dating!"

"Oh yeah? I've snogged more people then you, and none of my dates ran out of the tea shop crying!" Ginny retorted.

Harry felt the issue was hitting a little too close to home. He put a reassuring hand on Ron's shoulder, hoping Ron would calm down. "Come on, Ron, leave it alone. It's Hermione's decision."

"Yeah!" Ginny declared, looking pointedly at her brother.

"What are you staring at, Malfoy?" Ron suddenly yelled loudly, looking over Hermione's shoulder, and the small group all turned to see Draco Malfoy standing in the middle of the hallway, watching them. Ron whipped out his wand. "Get out of here, unless you want to see what it's like to be a toad!"

Hermione looked over at Draco, confused. He still seemed out of sorts, but he sneered at Ron and spun on his heel, obviously thinking better of duelling with four Gryffindors.

"Ferret," Ron muttered.

"I'm going to bed," Hermione announced, watching Draco slip furtively into the gloomy hall that supposedly led to the Slytherin dorms. "And when I wake up, no one is going to nag me about Viktor anymore." Ron frowned.

"But Hermione -"

"Just leave it, Ron," Ginny advised, sounding angry.

"Hermione's a big girl," Harry said, patting Ron's shoulder as the two girls moved away towards the stairs. "Let her decide for herself."

Ron scowled and sighed, covering his face with his hands. He took a deep breath. "I'm really messing it up, aren't I?"

Harry considered lying, but he knew it wouldn't help Ron. "Yeah," he admitted. "You've got to let Hermione run her own life. You're going about it all wrong anyway, you should tell her how you feel."

"Like she'll care," Ron sighed, his face glum. "She's all in love with her precious Vicky."

"You could try," Harry offered. "Maybe it'll make a difference."

"I doubt it," Ron said. He brightened. "Well, at least she isn't dating Malfoy."