December 16

December 16

Hermione knew things.

For instance, she knew the atomic masses of all the elements, a fact that she had memorized on her own to her teacher's great astonishment in second grade. She knew the habits of the African dung beetle, although if asked she wouldn't be able to tell you where she had learned that, only that it was a long time ago. She knew the histories of almost all the magical wars and rebellions by heart--at least the ones that happened in Europe.

She knew the basics of spell construction, a complex art that normally took a person seventy years to master, and she was spending most nights working on her own spell, one that tried to replicate the process of glaucoma, with Professor Flitwick. She especially prided herself on, however, her ability to predict what her best friends would do in any given situation, simply because she had known them for seven years.

So Hermione wasn't caught off guard when Harry got back with Ginny at Grimmauld Place, or when Ron asked her out those four weeks ago. In addition, though, she knew that her own emotions were hidden to her analysis, and so she accepted Ron's proposal with a bit of hesitation. Looking back now, after four somewhat turbulent weeks with Ron, she asked herself if she was really happy, now that she had what she thought she had really wanted.

It was a hard question, something she was still mulling over, because Hermione sensed that there was something, something just not right. She couldn't put her finger on it, though, and so she went along with her life. But there was certainly something wrong with Ginny and Harry's relationship, as anybody could see, although they were both seemingly oblivious to the fact.

But Hermione thought she knew other people's emotions, and her skill had been proven time and time again, from first grade to her seventh year at Hogwarts. Currently she was predicting that Ginny would, in the next few months, go crazy when Harry eventually refused to let her leave the safety of Hogwarts.

It was, Hermione thought, an interesting situation, one certain to provide a slight bit of intellectual work on everybody's part to come to an agreement. But it would all work out in the end.

Hermione knew it.

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"No, he can't go!"

Ginny's wail, echoing off the stone walls of the modified Room of Requirement, took Hermione completely by surprise, a feeling she experienced once in a blue moon. When Ginny had come up to her at breakfast and loudly whispered into her ear that they needed to talk, Hermione had grimaced and assumed that it would, in some way, be connected to Harry. For the bond between Harry and both Hermione and Ginny was, Hermione had come to realize, the only thing that actually connected the two girls.

So Hermione, attempting to stay on top of the upcoming meeting, had given her half-Defense half-Ancient Runes period to try to think of exactly what to say when Ginny would demand to accompany her boyfriend on his hunt to destroy Voldemort's horcruxes. Needless to say, Hermione was caught off guard upon hearing Ginny's first statement.

Trying to formulate an intelligent response on the spot, Hermione paused infinitesimally and said haltingly, "Um, why not?" and then mentally kicked herself for not coming up with the answer two seconds beforehand when she actually needed it. Of course Ginny would want Harry to be safe, but Hermione had postulated that Ginny would want to accompany him to assure his wellbeing, not shut him up in the virtual prison of Hogwarts. Her companion, however, had impatiently shifted several times and had thrown herself into a luxurious black leather chair in front of the empty fireplace. Ginny started speaking, her voice barely hiding the current of anger running underneath.

"Why does he want to put his life in danger when he's so young, just to fulfill some stupid prophecy. Does he really think that he's Voldemort's equal--" she spat the word "now, when he's still in school? He has the rest of his life to learn more, to get stronger, to..."

Ginny trailed off for a second, apparently biting back her next phrase, and then started up again with renewed vigor.

"And he expects me to come along!"

Hermione, who had followed, if not agreed with, the tirade up to that point, frowned slightly and cut in. "Harry asked you to go with him?" she said slowly, trying to think of a reason. Harry had explicitly said to her and Ron last night in the Common Room that he didn't want anyone going with him because it was too dangerous. What had made him, Harry, known for his stubbornness, change his mind? Unless he had asked Ginny alone--

"No, of course he didn't tell me. But I could tell he wanted to."

Hermione opened her mouth but was waved off by Ginny, who continued, "He can't leave Hogwarts. It's the only real safe place--not even the Burrow, with all those Order spells last summer--"

Ginny's voice cracked and she broke off. Her eyes darted around the room, apparently looking for something. Hermione took the seat opposite her and also glanced about the small room. Bookcases filled with huge tomes, some strange glass display case, a mirror--tissues. She pushed herself up out of the coziness of the chair and awkwardly walked over to the box to give it to Ginny, acutely aware of her movements. As she sat down after giving them to the teary girl her chair let out a puff of stale smelling air.

"Thanks," sniffed Ginny as she took a tissue and wiped her eyes. Hermione patiently waited, thinking of what to do with the Ron situation, until Ginny finally started talking again. "You know, Hermione, he's too heroic for his own good."

Hermione thought about this for some time, in which Ginny shifted uncomfortably on her squishy chair, and came to the conclusion that she didn't know that he was too 'heroic'. Harry didn't want to be, she knew that well. It had been unfairly pushed upon him, but he needed to do what he needed to do. In fact, anyone who really knew Harry should know that well...

"I mean, after I got over the shock it seemed really cute that he rescued me, but he can't just go out and get killed!"

Here Hermione felt a strong need to defend Harry, to remind Ginny that he had been having intensive private lessons every day instead of attending normal classes, but she kept quiet our of sheer curiosity--what would Ginny spout off next?

After a few seconds of looking at the vaulted stone ceiling Hermione presumed that Ginny had really and truly stopped speaking for the moment, and she snuck a glance at the girl sitting across from her. Wearing her flame-colored hair pulled back in a 'fashionable' short ponytail (for that was the way she thought Harry liked it--she was wrong, Hermione knew), Ginny was curled up on the overstuffed chair in a way that reminded Hermione of a gazelle with broken legs. She supposed she could see what Harry saw in her girlfriend, but really--

"So I'm going to stay at Hogwarts."

This blasé statement, delivered by Ginny in an uninterested and almost detached voice, shocked Hermione out of her quiescence and made her retract her previous thought. What could Harry see in such an... an airhead?

"What?" Immediately after her outburst Hermione looked guiltily at the ceiling, where she could have sworn she had heard an echo.

"It's simple--I'm staying here. When Harry sees that I'm not going with him, he'll finally come to his sense and stay at Hogwarts. He'll be safe and he can go on having lessons with McGonagall and the other teachers." Hermione stared, open-mouthed, at the calm Ginny. "I know him; I know what he will do and what he won't. Trust me on this."

Hermione was on the brink of breaking in and declaring that, being Harry's best friend for seven years, she would know what he would do, much more than a girlfriend of six months, and started talking: "Ginny, I don't think..."

But Ginny was out of her cushy seat and had started for the door, her short skirt that was clearly outside the dress code limits swinging with her every step. "I think I'll do it now. Wish me luck!" As she left the Room of Requirement she flipped her ponytail back to its original, perfect state: a controlled mess. The heavy wooden door swung shut behind her and her footsteps died away almost immediately.

Hermione only stared at the closed door and didn't even move when the room changed to a dungeon, a library, and broom cupboard all in succession. Apparently the thoughts swirling through her head indicated that she needed a drink; one appeared at her left elbow in an elegant glass, balanced on a green plastic bucket. By instinct she picked it up and, bizarrely noticing the etched design on the glass, took a drink. Hermione immediately spit it out onto a nearby pile of heaped mop heads: it was whisky.

Broken out of her stupor, Hermione cast a quick spell on her mouth to wipe it of the taste, got up off the bucket, and, stepping over brooms, mops, and boxes, grasped the heavy metal handle of the door. She heaved the door open--how had Ginny managed it without, Merlin forbid, breaking a nail--and headed for the Gryffindor Common Room, sure that when she got past the Fat Lady she would find Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley on opposite sides of the room, no longer a couple.

Because Hermione just knew things like that.

~Fin~