Full Circle

Chapter 7 - Decking the Halls

Ginny's melodic voice floated throughout the infrequently used music room adjacent to the Great Hall. She sat at the baby grand piano, her fingers dancing gracefully across the porcelain keys, her mind lost in the world that the music created. So absorbed and focused on her practicing, she did not realize that she was being watched until the song had finished. The pleased expression on Professor McGonagall's face differed somewhat from the surprised look from Professor Malfoy.

"We're sorry to interrupt, Miss Weasley, but we just received notice from your parents that they need to take a trip to Romania for the holidays. Since the international travel of under aged wizards is highly questionable at this time, they have requested that Ron and you stay here at Hogwarts for Christmas. I'm sure you two will not be terribly disappointed because I know you've spent the holidays here in the past."

"No, Professor McGonagall. I was actually thinking of sending an owl to Mum and Dad asking if we could stay. Ron might complain, of course, at missing out on homemade pudding, but he'll get over it." Originally Ginny and Ron had decided to go home for Christmas (since Harry wouldn't be here this year there was really no sense in staying), but when she noticed Hermione's name at the top of the list, Ginny immediately thought of excuses for them to remain with her.

"Well, this brings the total number of students to seven." This meager amount was typical, since few students would spend the holidays at Hogwarts if there wasn't something spectacular like the Yule Ball to entice them. Professor Malfoy examined the list she held in her hands. "We have three from Gryffindor - Miss Hermione Granger along with Mr. and Miss Weasley, Miss Marion Applegate and her brother Stuart from Hufflepuff, Mr. Davis Martin from Ravenclaw and of course my son."

Ginny was not surprised to hear that Malfoy would be at staying (since she knew that his mother would be reluctant to return to the family estate for Christmas), but it seemed odd that his cohorts Crabbe and Goyle would not be there as well. She wondered if Mrs. Malfoy's separation from her Death Eater husband caused a subsequent riff in Draco's friendships since they were both predestined followers of "You-know-who". Thoughts of Malfoy and his situation sporadically came to Ginny's mind over the past two weeks since their last meeting, but she did her best to not waste her time thinking about him. Occasionally their eyes met from across the tables of the Great Hall before she could quickly turn her attention away from him. She had to remind herself that Malfoy had made his distaste for her and her family abundantly clear.

His mother's eyes wandered around the dusty music room with a hint of longing; her expression less cool and reserved than usual. Unlike Draco's pale gray, Narcissa's eyes were a brilliant blue like the sky on a cloudless day. But the sophisticated slope of her nose, Ginny noticed, was definitely passed on to her son. Both Professor McGonagall and Ginny watched as she wiped her finger across the dusty top of the filing cabinet holding a large collection of sheet music. Her slender fingers grasped the handle of the drawer and pulled it open before perusing the contents. She smiled to herself when she had found the piece she was looking for.

"I can't believe it's still here," she said in voice that seemed much younger than her forty odd years. "The Lover's Waltz for piano. It even has my notes written on the side of the page." She looked up to see the Headmistress and the sixth year Gryffindor looking at her. "My performance piece for the Spring Concert of 1975. Do you remember that, Professor?"

She nodded. "It wasn't long after the three of you graduated that Hogwarts stopped holding instrumental concerts due to lack of student interest. In fact until Miss Weasley started here, no one had even requested use of this room to practice in about fifteen years."

Ginny was confused. "The three of you?" she asked.

Professor Malfoy smiled. "During my enrollment at this school, Hogwarts had three musical stars, each concentrating on a different instrument: mine was the piano, Lily Evans played the violin and Liu Chang was a flutist. We used to spend hours in here, after classes and on the weekends preparing our selections for the biannual concerts. My last performance was this song."

Ginny stretched her long legs before standing up from the bench and walking over to her potions professor. "May I see it?"

She nodded and handed over the sheet of music. Ginny once again situated herself at the piano, cracked her fingers (as Mrs. Malfoy winced in dismay) and began to play. But as the enchanting sound of the music emerged from the depths of the instrument, the elder pianist could not take her eyes off of Ginny. So elegant was the melody that it enraptured both the listeners and performer, suspending them in a trance until the piece ended. When the silence had returned, Professor Malfoy stood with her mouth slightly parted in a failed attempt at speech.

When she gathered her words together, she asked "Who was your tutor?"

Ginny's cheeks colored with embarrassment. "I never had a tutor. My family could never afford one."

The professor continued to stare in an uncharacteristic fashion. "You mean you have never had a music instructor? Nobody taught you how to play the piano?"

"My parents had inherited an upright piano after my great Aunt Elsbeth passed away when I was just a baby. No one in my family really knew how to play and since several of the keys didn't even work, it spent many years just sitting in the corner of the parlor collecting dust. But the year Ron left for Hogwarts, I was so lonely at home that I was desperate for something to do. So I just sat down and played. Mum got me some books on how to read notes and since then I've basically taught myself."

Professor Malfoy looked astonished. "From the age of five, I was professionally tutored by Jean-Claude Courtais from Paris. He spent years looming over me to ensure that my method was precise and flawless. My mother insisted that every civilized person should know how to play the piano. Years later I even tried to impose this idea on Draco, but that never caught on. But to think that you've come this far without any tutoring. Your raw talent alone...." She could barely grasp the concept. "It almost beats mine after years of instruction.

Ginny didn't even know what to say. Did Mrs. Malfoy know who she was praising? Had she somehow forgotten who she was talk to in the last five minutes? Her flaming hair was the obvious mark of a Weasley. The fact that Ginny sat in her potions class every Wednesday and Friday afternoon was obvious as well. She and Professor McGonagall had specifically come to this room in search of her to inform her of the change in plans. There is no way that a simple shared love of music could cause a Malfoy to be so sincerely complimentary of a member of the poor, Muggle-loving Weasley family! It is against everything she stands for, Ginny thought, or at least what she used to stand for until recently.

Narcissa tentatively approached the teenager. "Would you be opposed to improving your technique under the guidance of a tutor?"

"I really can't afford-"

"Nonsense, child. I'm volunteering! It has been so long since I've met someone interested in playing the piano that I would be glad to help." They both turned and looked at the headmistress. "Would that be acceptable, Professor McGonagall?"

"Oh course. But may I suggest you wait until after the holidays to begin your lessons. There is a great deal of things to be done around here before then."

"How does the first Saturday after break sound, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny still sat in shock. "Umm...yes, that should be fine, Professor Malfoy."

With that, the two teachers turned to leave. "Wait... professor!" They stopped in the doorway and looked back at her inquisitively. "Um...I just wanted to tell you...thank you." Professor Malfoy nodded and smiled - a surprisingly genuine smile. "It's my pleasure."

A few hours later Ginny told this story to Ron and Hermione while they got ready for the Gryffindor tower Yule Party. They were all in the Seventh Year Boy's dormitory; Hermione sat on the window seat with her knees drawn up and Ginny was cross-legged on the unoccupied four poster bed that formally belonged to Harry. Dean and Seamus were still in the common room, waiting for the absolute last moment to get dressed, while Neville was in the boy's bathroom taking a shower. Ron stood admiring the goatee he was trying to grow.

"So, whadda ya guys think?" He asked in mock sexy tone.

Ginny cocked her head to one side and smiled. "Eh, still looking a bit patchy to me," she laughed.

Hermione frowned. "Are you even allowed to grow facial hair at Hogwarts? Isn't it against school dress code?"

"Nobody's complained yet, 'Mione. Especially not the ladies," he growled.

"Well, I think it looks ridiculous," replied Hermione and turned her face to the window. She couldn't let the expression on her face reveal her true opinions on the matter. The goatee had a way of making Ron look older, more mature... perhaps even handsome. Not Hermione had ever found him necessarily unattractive, obviously, since she had once been his girlfriend. She glanced over her shoulder and watched him put on his new dress robes for the occasion. They were probably the first article of clothing Ron had ever owned that wasn't second hand. Now that the majority of the Weasleys were out on their own, the family had a little extra money for such minor extravagances.

He couldn't have picked a more striking color, Hermione thought as she sized him up out of the corner of her eye. A brilliant navy blue contrasted nice with his ginger hair and emphasized his blue eyes. Wow. He looks great! Suddenly his reflection in the mirror caught her looking at him and he smiled at her. Quickly she returned to staring out the window at the snow covered grounds of Hogwarts. What on earth did she think she was doing, Hermione asked herself. Checking out Ron Weasley!

He turned to his sister. "So are you guys going to sit here all night or do you plan on getting dressed for the party?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright Ron. We'll leave you to your primping. Come on Hermione. We're supposed to be downstairs by seven o'clock." Hermione stood up and proceeded to follow her friend out of the room. As they opened to door, the two girls were met with a very surprised Neville wearing nothing but a bath towel.

"Some twit stole my bathrobe," he explained apologetically. "I had to walk all the way down the hall with some Second Year girls giving me catcalls." It wasn't hard to see why. Having always been a bit of a short and stocky boy, he grown a bit taller in the last several months and his now shirtless upper half revealed a slightly more defined chest and arms. Hermione fought the urge to reach out and touch his bare skin.

"You look kind of ...different, Neville," said Ginny, with an impressed expression.

"Well, I've be doing some weight training in my free time. I just started at the beginning of the semester. Actually, it was Ron who helped me get on track, but I still have a long way to go." His smile was awkward but it held a secret hint of delight in his friends' appreciation of his efforts.

"Ok, folks - break it up! We haven't got all night here!" Ron attempted to shoo the girls out of the room. "You can fawn on him more when we're ready." The girls gave him a dirty look, but eventually left. At the staircase that divided the boy's dormitories from the girl's, Hermione anxiously looked at Ginny.

"Well, I'm going to go to my room and change," she said, hoping that she would not insist that they get dressed together like they would normally do in preparation for a formal event. "I'll meet you at the party."

"Yeah, sure, not a problem," Ginny replied. She knew why Hermione was acting this way and for a moment she was tempted to admit it, to free her of the burden that she was facing alone. But as Hermione headed down the stairs to the prefect's suite, Ginny stood there and said nothing. Now was not the time, she told herself.

When Hermione entered the Gryffindor common room, she couldn't help but admire at the beautiful holiday decorations. There were swags of evergreens along the walls tied with red ribbons. A majestic Christmas tree stood beside the fireplace covered with candy canes and fresh fruit and glittered with what looked like fairy lights. The tables were covered with red linens and in the center were bowls filled with chocolate coins and Christmas crackers. Lavender and Parvati, who were the self-created heads of the holiday decorating committee, couldn't have looked more pleased with themselves. Not to mention how nice they both looked for the occasion.

Parvati's long dark hair was curled and flowed down the back of her majestic purple dress robe. Lavender, on the other hand, had her golden hair pulled back into a sophisticated French twist, and her robe was made of brilliant red velvet and had a scooped neckline. Ron seemed to immediately notice.

"Between your hair and that dress, you couldn't look like a truer Gryffindor," he said with a smile.

"You look pretty cute yourself with the goatee of yours," Lavender replied.

Is she flirting with Ron? Hermione asked herself. Not that it would matter if she was...would it? Walking over to a delectable cheese and cracker platter, she noticed that Ginny was watching her. Ginny looked wonderful as well, her red hair was pinned in a pile of curls on top of her head and her dress was an emerald green color. Seeing all of her classmates looking so nice made Hermione feel even more self-conscious than normal. Not that she hadn't made an effort - her own brown waves were twisted back and secured with a jeweled barrette and her face was done up to disguise the effects of her sleepless nights. Between the empire waist of her cream colored dress robes combined with a creative stretching charm, the fact that she was four and a half months pregnant was cleverly disguised. But the fact that no one had discovered the truth about her condition did not make Hermione feel any better about it.

She knew she was quickly running out of time, but she still couldn't gain the courage to contact Harry about it. How could she even begin to explain? She hadn't even seen him since the day it had happened. Hermione was tired of standing, but was reluctant to sit down on any of the couches for fear of drawing attention to herself. Quietly, she walked over to where the friends were gathered in conversation. Parvati sat on Seamus' lap outrageously flirting with him, while Ginny and Neville chatted beside them. Dean had his arm around Tina's waist, who looked fabulous in her yellow dress robes. Antoinette and Edward bickered over by the window sill about which was the more annoying older sister - Angelina or Katie. Ron, Lavender and Sam stood by the fireplace and discussed Quidditch techniques; with Lavender's hand touching Ron's arm the entire time. (Not that Hermione noticed....)

They all looked so happy, like they don't have a care in the world. No one knows how scared she was at that moment. She hated change, hated not being in control of the situation. Secretly her opinion was that smart girls don't get pregnant when they're still in school. There were plenty of methods to prevent such a thing, both in the Muggle and wizarding world - things that she would have used if she planned on having sex. The problem was that she hadn't planned on any of this and now that it had happened, she was trapped. Hermione stared at the fire blazing in the fireplace, the orange flames flickering and waving in the air like arms reaching out for help. She was fixated on the glow, wanting so badly to feel the warmth in produced. The fire reminded her of the night she spent with Harry. It had been chaotic and feverish, yet warm and soothing...but it burned. Now she was permanently scorched.

"Did you read in the Quaffle Monthly that the United States is trying to create their own national Quidditch Team?" Lavender asked her teammates.

"They don't have one yet?" asked Dean.

"Well, they have state teams," replied Ron, "but not a representative team for the country which they would need to compete for the cup."

Hermione couldn't take it any longer. She felt like her mind was snapping under the pressure. "Can't you guys talk about anything besides bloody Quidditch?" she interrupted in a voice much louder than she had anticipated.

Everyone in the room turned and stared at her in disbelief, not so much because she disagreed with the topic but because she was practically yelling at them. After what seemed like a minute of awkward silence, Ron turned to her and said coolly "Well, I'm sure Quidditch talk didn't seem annoying when Viktor Krum was fawning all over you."

Hermione said nothing as a curious First Year student asked "You mean the famous Viktor Krum from Bulgaria?"

"Yes. A couple of years back, Hermione was quite the celebrity herself playing Viktor's girlfriend. Betcha it didn't bother you then, did it? Or were you too busy distracting him by talking about Harry?"

Again the quiet in the room was deafening, but this time people were glaring at Ron. It had been the first time anyone had mentioned Harry it a long time, but only Ginny and Hermione could comprehend how much it hurt to hear Ron say that. Of all the things to say, thought Ginny.

Feeling the petty jealousy of the Yule Ball all over again, Hermione gritted her teeth in frustration, stormed off and climbed through the portrait hole into the empty corridor. Everything was so confusing. She couldn't understand why she had been irritated by the conversation in the first place or why she felt so envious about how Lavender was paying attention to him. Ok, so she shouldn't have snapped at them, but to bring up Viktor and Harry? What was Ron trying to prove in saying what he said? Was he really mad at Hermione?

Back in the common room, the conversation returned to normal. Ginny frowned at her brother. "Ronald! If you care anything about your friendship with Hermione, than you should go out there and talk to her."

"Are you kidding me? She's being a bitch and I should go comfort her? Give me a break, Ginny."

She put his arm on his shoulder and guided him over an empty corner. "I'm serious, Ron. She's obviously really upset about something and I think she needs a friend to talk with," she whispered.

"And you're not her friend?"

Ginny shook her head. "I am, but not the one she needs right now." Ron examined the seriousness of her face. "Please, Ron. Trust me."

Ron thought this over for a moment and then sighed. "You're probably right. Hermione has been acting strangely all semester and I really haven't taken the time to discuss it with her. I just figured she'd get over it."

"What if it's not something she can just get over?" his sister asked.

Hermione was sitting on the floor in the hallway when Ron climbed through the portrait hole. Upon seeing him, she quickly squinted her eyes shut in an effort to hide the tears that were forming. The anger that he had felt earlier melted when he saw how weak she looked. Here in this desperate state was one of his best friends in the whole world and he felt guilty for having ignored her much of the last few months. What if she had been needing help all this time and had been too proud to ask?

"Mind if I sit down?" he asked and she was too tired to deny him.

Hermione stared aimlessly at a suit of armor that stood at attention across the hall, while Ron watched her carefully.

"What's wrong?" He asked, tentatively.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Ron!" she blurted out. "I've just be under so much pressure recently, you have no idea. I feel like I'm losing my mind." Her throat was tightening around her words and she felt like she was going to start crying. Oh god, not now. Not when Ron is here.

But suddenly he reached his arm around Hermione and pulled her close. "It's ok, really. Just let it all out. You look like you need it." The expression of sincerity on his face was all that it took for her to feel safe with him. It had been awhile since Hermione had let anyone get so close to her, either physically or emotionally, and it wasn't until she was cuddled up next to Ron that she remembered that fact.

Ron looked down at the mass of wavy locks flowing onto his shoulder and smiled. Her body seemed frail, but it was warm, and he could feel her heavy choked up breathing as she sobbed. Sitting here next to Hermione and holding her in his arms reminded him of the night, almost a year before, when she had decided to end their six month relationship. At first she pretended to be logical, explaining how having a boyfriend would interfere with her school work and how important her goals were, but eventually she broke down and cried her apologies much like she was doing now.

"It's not you - it's me," she tried to make clear, but Ron cringed at the words even now in memory. "I just can't handle a relationship. We're too young. I'm not ready for something so serious." But he heard none of that. In his mind, her words said that she did not love him. That was the only thing this breakup could mean - because if she actually loved him then they could make anything work. This is what Ron believed to be true, despite her efforts to convince him otherwise.

Fortunately a year had made all the difference in the world. At first, their attempt to be friends again was difficult to maintain, but after several months his heart began to heal enough to preserve their current relationship. The trio had been successfully reunited and seemed stronger than ever, but since Harry's absence Ron had turned his back on Hermione. Instead of being there during their mutual time of need, he sought solace in other places. Now he regretted how he had put their friendship on hold.

"Oh Hermione, I'm sorry too." Ron cupped his hand under her chin and tilted it upwards so that he could see her tear filled eyes. "I should have been there for you. I've just been so wrapped up in other things as well."

Hermione looked at Ron's face and her heart ached. It felt so good to know that he still cared about her. She had been so lonely these past few months that it eased her pain to be here with him - to be held so close in his arms. For that moment, everything seemed almost normal.

"You look tired, Hermione. Do you want me to take you to bed?"

She grinned sheepishly and nodded. Ron stood up and dusted himself off before reaching his hand out to Hermione. Grasping it firmly, he yanked her to her feet a little harder than he expected and he was forced to catch her in his arms. But once she had regained her balance, Hermione still did not loosen her grip on Ron. He looked down at her and felt slightly uncomfortable at the way she was gazing up at him. Her brown eyes look large and glossy, her cheeks rosy, her lips parted ever so slightly. Wow. Had he somewhat forgotten how tempting his ex-girlfriend could be?

As if responding to Ron's unwanted thought, Hermione leaned forward and pressed her lips firmly against his. Despite the fact that his body instinctively wanted to kiss her back, the first thing to flash through his mind was Lavender. Being here with Hermione, regardless of how nice it felt, was not what he wanted deep down. But he couldn't help but be intrigued - why was she kissing him?

Just as about to pull away from her, they were abruptly interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Shit! He thought as they both whipped around to see who had caught them.

Standing there in wrinkled Muggle clothes, his dark wind blown hair sticking up haphazardly on his head, was a young man whose lopsided smile bordered between confusion and embarrassment.

"Umm...hey guys. Happy Christmas!" said Harry Potter to his two best friends.