Unlikely Connections

Chapter Twenty-Three - The Pavanne

"The Pavanne - a dance of Court (a renaissance dance) ... called "le grand bal" because it was used on state occasions. ... it was actually a solemn ceremonial dance.... The Pavane was a very solemn couples' dance done with long gliding (walking) steps in procession with many curtsies, retreats and advances." from StreetSwing

Hermione clutched the thin dressing gown Madam Pomfrey had given her as tightly as she could around her body without ripping the flimsy material. As if the conversation itself hadn't been enough, she now felt that much more violated. She had been subjected to so many pokes, prods, scrapes and tests; she felt like a piece of veal. She couldn't help a sniffle as she sat on the edge of the hospital wing bed. Madam Pomfrey had told her to wait while the results of the test were being processed, but she had a mad urge to dash out of the wing without even waiting to get dressed again.

A shadow appeared on the thin curtain around her bed and she stood, preparing to drop the gown for more testing. Hermione squeaked in horrified surprise as Professor Snape moved into her little cubicle and dropped unceremoniously into the chair by the bed. Once again, Hermione clutched the material around her, all the more aware that it was practically transparent.

"Miss Granger," he said as he nodded regally in acknowledgement, as if this sort of thing happened every day.

"Get out," she managed, "get out now! I'm not dressed."

He fought to keep a sigh of sympathy from escaping his throat. Her voice was still parched, dry ... almost rusty, showing its fall into disuse. "I'm not embarrassed," he said.

"I am!" she shrieked. But as it slipped from her mouth, so too, it seemed, did the energy to fight him. "This is all so humiliating. As if the ... act itself wasn't ... enough. Now I have to suffer through being handled like a postal package--"

Snape interrupted briskly. "You are so oblivious."

Hermione could feel anger surging in her throat but she clamped her lips together. Just because she had started speaking again didn't mean that she must rise to his obvious baiting. Very carefully, she smoothed the dressing gown across her body and settled back into the bed.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "No seething comment? Miss Granger, I'm impressed. It would seem that being violated has finally tempered your tongue."

Hermione stared at him in horror. She could barely believe that even he had said something so heartless and cold. Much to her anger, a tear slipped from her eye as she crossed her arms about her chest and looked away from him.

After a moment, Snape cleared his throat and Hermione could hear him shift in his chair. "That was uncalled for," he stated simply.

"Well," she said, wiping at her eye, "I suppose that's as close as I'll get to an apology."

"Most likely."

She smiled for a moment, but then a niggling fear returned to her mind. "Can't you do something about this? I already told her ... I already said that he didn't ... do I really have to go through all this? Does she really have to -?"

"As I said before, Miss Granger, you are most unfortunately oblivious."

Far from anger, this time Hermione stared at him in confusion.

Snape sighed heavily. "Do you really think that Poppy would not have performed tests on you when you were brought into the hospital wing? Did you think that a trained witch dealing with the medical maladies of adolescents for longer than you've been alive would miss the signs of sexual mishandling?"

Hermione was quiet. She felt ridiculous that it had not even entered her mind that Madam Pomfrey would have been able to guess her mishap.

"Especially when coupled with the reports of myself and Mr. Potter regarding the situation that you and Master Weasley left the Three Broomsticks on Halloween."

Fury rose hot and strong in her throat. "You and Harry told her to do this to me? You and Harry told her -!"

"Miss Granger, do be sensible. Poppy would certainly have come to these conclusions without our help. In fact, she did come to these conclusions, and had informed Mr. Potter and me that she had already done the proper tests at the time that we confronted her."

"She ...you ... you and Harry confronted her?"

"Indeed," Snape replied, folding his hands across his lap.

"Together?" she asked, baffled.

Snape sighed heavily. "Surprisingly enough, Mr. Potter had the common sense to approach someone regarding your condition, unlike you. And as I had tired of the inexplicable prattling guilt I was experiencing, I felt it was in my best interest to aid him."

"Guilt?"

With barely a hitch in his facial expression, Snape raised a long finger and tapped it against his forehead. Hermione was suddenly flooded with a constant, quiet stream of words, mostly consisting of "filth," through the back of her head.

"And then there was the even more delightful ..." he said.

And then Hermione's mind rang with a raspy pleading.

"Ron, no ... Ron please, don't..." She could feel a few errant tears running down her face.

"So you see," he said calmly, "it hasn't been the most pleasant few weeks for me either."

After a slight pause, Hermione remembered something Snape had said earlier. "Madam Pomfrey ran tests on me before I woke up?"

"Certainly," Snape said. "Considering the situation, she needed to check for any damage done to your body, as well as tests for pregnancy, or--"

"But he didn't--"

Snape smirked thickly. "Miss Granger, I do not know - nor do I care to know - who taught you about the facts of life, but they neglected to mention that the 'he didn't finish' line of reasoning is poor protection against the reality of carrying an attacker's child."

Hermione slid down from the bed so quickly that she nearly toppled over. She bore down upon him, a blaze of anger in her eyes. "Well, pardon me Professor, but it wasn't exactly the height of sexual caution at the moment. I barely had enough air to breathe let alone ask Ron if he would please take care to give me a contraceptive before he finished raping me!"

Hermione's anger raced through her body so quickly that she found herself shaking from it. And when she opened her throat to rage at him again, she found that it was not yelling that came from her, but hysterical screams of pain. When she tried to move towards him to regain a sense of control, her limbs crumpled beneath her and she found herself hurtling towards the floor. With a surprising amount of speed, Severus heaved forward out of his chair and threw his arms around Hermione as they both collapsed to the floor. The squeak of the chair across the stone floor was achingly loud as Hermione skidded across the flagstones and crumpled to a heap in Snape's lap.

With her legs fanned out behind her, Hermione dropped her head to Snape's chest. He quickly gathered her into a tight ball and rested her in his lap, his legs cold against the chilly floor. She curled into his body as a small animal might when seeking protection from the winter wind. Snape felt as if his arms were acting without reference to his mind as they wrapped themselves around Hermione's body, shielding her from the world, hugging tightly as she sobbed out her sorrow against his scratchy woolen robes.

Quietly, Madam Pomfrey dropped the edge of the curtain and moved back towards her office. The results of the tests could wait another half hour.

*****

Severus waited until her sniffles had died down enough before he spoke again. "Quite finished are we? I do hold issue with my robes being used as a handkerchief."

Hermione scowled at him but fought a small grin. "I'm done, Professor," she said, lifting herself to her feet. "Erm ... thank you."

Severus nodded shortly and, after fidgeting a bit with his robes, drew the chair up to her bedside again. "So, explain to me the one thing that I'm sure you won't discuss with Albus ..."

Hermione glanced up into Snape's face, confused. He was not elaborating further, merely waiting patiently for an answer. "I don't know what you mean, Sir," she said quietly.

"You most certainly do," he replied, but when she didn't answer, continued. "You told a pretty little story, Miss Granger, of your attack. But you didn't tell us why you refused to report your situation to anyone."

She started to open her mouth to rebut, but Severus continued before she was able.

"Oh, you can say it was out of fear or shame, but we both know that's not the truth."

She started to rebut again, but closed her mouth quickly. Severus tapped his forehead. "You can't fool me. One does not think one is filthy out of shame or fear. That, Miss Granger, is guilt."

Hermione looked up from her lap, panicked.

"The question is, why on earth would you feel guilty about that act? You did no wrong."

Hermione was quiet a long moment before she responded. "Because I deserved what he did to me."

Severus's face barely changed expression, but for the widened eyes that showed his surprise. He remained quiet and thoughtful, so Hermione - shifting in her spot on the edge of the bed and curling her legs underneath her - continued.

"I can't say that I asked for it, but I did deserve it. What I did was no better than his actions."

"What could you possibly have done that compared to his actions?" Severus roared before he caught hold of himself and quieted.

"Well," she began shakily, "first of all, he was mad and he had a right to be. You are dangerous, I did promise never to touch you or let you touch me again, and I did break my promise. He had every right to be mad at me."

"How could--"

"No," Hermione interrupted, "now that I've got the guts to say it, let me finish saying it. He was rightfully mad. And with the way I ... well, my clothing did give quite the wrong message I suppose. And," she added quickly, holding up a hand at his enraged expression, "I'm well aware of what they tell every little girl: dressing sexy does not 'ask' for rape. But it wasn't his fault I was dressed that way and that he got the wrong idea."

Severus's throat was burning with rage, but he held himself firmly in his seat. "That does not excuse his behavior," he said acerbically.

"Well, maybe not. But ... but I deserved it. What I did to you was no different than what he did to me."

"What you did to me?" Severus asked, nonplussed.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Rape and/or sexual harassment are defined as unwanted sexual attention or action. Now, I realize that I didn't force you to have sex with me, but when I kissed you that night of my first detention, it was definitely unwanted attention that, while it wasn't sexual at first, I suppose a kiss can be defined as sexual. I forced unwanted sexual attention on you, just as Ron did on me. I'm just as guilty as he is."

Severus gaped at her for a moment before, against his better judgment, he rose from the chair and sat next to her on the bed. Her voice had broken as she finished speaking and he could see the blush on her cheek deepen and flourish as he sat next to her. When she didn't immediately turn to him, he eased a hand to her shoulder and forced her around to meet his eyes.

Where to begin?

"Miss Granger, your logic is truly dizzying." When she grimaced, he softened. "I cannot deny that your kissing me was unexpected. But it is a far cry from forcing yourself on someone against a wall while choking and bruising them. The two are completely and disgustingly different. And, while I can say that you're kiss was unsolicited, that doesn't necessarily mean that it was unwanted."

Hermione jerked just a tiny bit as his words registered. "What are you saying?" she whispered.

Severus was moving towards her minutely. He did not know why. He only knew that she was moving in response. Close ... so close to her face ... her curls, her smell, her eyes clouded his vision. "I'm saying," he whispered back, "that just because I didn't ask you to kiss me doesn't mean that I didn't ..."

She moved closer. Her breath was hot on his cheek. "Didn't ..."

His lips brushed hers. "Enjoy it."

Hermione felt her heart leap in her chest as he laid his lips against hers. She felt warmth gush through her whole system ... but it was a warmth without heat. So different from the crashing tidal wave of lust that they had shared before. Hermione lifted her hands and laced her fingers about his neck and pulled him closer; her heart jumped as she felt his fingers brush her throat, cup her jaw.

After a brief moment, Severus pulled back, shaking his head to clear it. He cleared his throat loudly. "What you did was nothing like Mr. Weasley," he said quietly.

"Certainly not."

Hermione's heart seemed to drop into her stomach as she looked up to see Albus Dumbledore standing in the gap of the curtains surrounding her hospital bed. From the careful expression on his face, Hermione was quiet certain he'd been standing there for some time.

"Miss Granger, please accompany me to my office," he said quietly and turned without a word.

Hermione leaped up from the bed, dressed hurriedly and rushed out of the hospital wing, sparing only a tiny glance back at the bed, where Severus was sitting, his head clutched tightly in his steepled fingers. They were in extraordinarily large trouble.

*****

Hermione jogged to catch up with Dumbledore and then spent quite a bit of time walking next to him in complete silence. She knew that somehow she should volunteer some kind of explanation ... but she could come up with nothing that could possibly help their situation. Hermione knew that the fact that Dumbledore was saying nothing could be a sign of no good. Eventually she decided she had to say something, even if it was nothing productive.

"Sir--" she started.

"Miss Granger, I do remember warning you that Professor Snape was not a safe person to trifle with. I would have expected that someone of your foresight and intelligence would have realized that if Severus fails at his position in this war, people die. Starting with him. Most likely following shortly with you and Harry. I had expected more out of you."

"Sir, I--"

"Not to mention that the indiscretion I have just witnessed is sufficient enough in its severity to have you expelled as well as Professor Snape terminated from his position at this school."

Hermione was stunned into silence before gathering her thoughts. "Sir ... are you ... angry with me?" She was stunned into silence once again at the hard look in Dumbledore's eyes when he turned them on her.

"Sugar Quills," Dumbledore said to the gargoyles outside his office.

Hermione followed him to the top of the stairs without a word, and assumed the chair in front of his desk without question. Dumbledore took his chair behind the desk quietly and surveyed Hermione with a cold stare for a few moments before his face broke into a worried concentration.

"Miss Granger, do you have any idea how dangerous what you did is for both you and Professor Snape?"

Hermione felt her hackles rise despite herself. "What I did, Sir? I believe it takes two people to kiss; I'm not at sole fault here."

"Perhaps not," Dumbledore continued quickly, "but I expect you to know better. You know what's at risk here and it is not to be toyed with. You know -"

"And Professor Snape doesn't?" she charged on. "I realize that conducting any kind of relationship with a teacher is against the rules and for that I am willing to accept full punishment. But sir, I cannot apologize for the feelings that caused me to do it."

"Miss Granger, by allowing yourself to act on those feelings you're putting yourself in an incredible amount of danger and--"

"Which is any safer than being best friends with Harry? I assure you sir, I am a target no matter what I do. And if I didn't know better, I'd think you were telling me not to care about Professor Snape."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, his age showing in the creases around his eyes. "Miss Granger, I am sure that Professor Snape appreciates your feelings and is grateful for the consideration but--"

"I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot stop caring for him. I consider myself extraordinarily lucky to have witnessed the real Severus Snape. Beneath those wonderfully crafted layers of hard intelligence and pitiless adherence to the rules, he is a witty, humorous and honorable man. Not many people see that side of him and I refuse to give up my share. I care for Professor Snape." Hermione stopped and took a breath. "I care very deeply for Severus Snape. And if that makes me a target of Lord Voldemort, so be it. He is worth the risk."

"Miss Granger, you misunderstand me," Dumbledore said quietly. He sighed again and removed the half-moon spectacles from his face. Long, wrinkled fingers massaged his temples in gentle circles before he continued. "Had I been blessed with a son of my own, I could not care for him any more than I care for the man you speak of. Severus is an upright, noble and intelligent man, despite his complete lack of social skills of any kind," Dumbledore added with a wry smile, "but I could not forgive myself if you were put in danger and I had the ability to stop it by warning you about the yoke of danger that you are taking onto your back. Being so careless as to display such shows of affection right in the hospital wing, where anyone could see the two of you, is borrowing trouble. I can only cover up and forgive you of said indiscretions if I am the only one who knows about them. You must be more careful."

Hermione felt tears leaking from her eyes but did not brush them away. "I appreciate your understanding, Headmaster, and I hear what you are saying. But, sir, he has been a pillar for me. He was there for me not so long ago when even my friends turned away. He saved my life. And he is on a long, lonely journey that could bring about his death. I owe it to him to make sure he is not marching to his death alone. I care too much."

Dumbledore raised his eyes and gazed around the room. When his eyes rested on a spot over her right shoulder, Hermione rose from her seat to regain his attention. She summoned a deep breath and said the words that had not even occurred to her to say until that very moment.

"I love him, sir." A deep gasp echoed over her right shoulder and she spun to see Professor Snape standing in the doorway, a dark, unreadable expression across his face. Her legs unsteady beneath her, Hermione took a step towards him, a hand outstretched towards him. Snape stumbled a bit in his anxiousness to move away from her. His face was coated in horror as he stared back at her and when a small sob worked its way out from between her lips, he turned and stalked away in a flourish of black robes.

Hermione sank to the floor and stared at her hands as they dropped to her lap. "What have I done?" she muttered to herself.

She heard the rustle of robes and jumped a bit when Dumbledore's gnarled hands touched her shoulders. "Come, Miss Granger," he said, "come have a seat by the fire. I'll get you a cup of tea and we can talk."

"What is there to say?" she asked helplessly, but allowed herself to be bustled over to the fire and into an armchair. She sat for nearly an hour, sipping at a cup of chamomile tea, while Dumbledore spoke comforting words that had nothing to do with Severus.

*****

A knock sounded on the deeply carved door, making Hermione start within the plush chair and almost overturn the dredges of the tea in her cup.

"Yes?" Dumbledore called to the knocker.

"Professor Dumbledore, I have gathered everyone necessary. Are you ready to proceed?" said a strong female voice that Hermione recognized as the Head of Gryffindor House.

Dumbledore spared a quick glance at Hermione before answering. "Yes, Minerva, please escort them in."

Hermione looked around the room quickly in confusion. "Sir, should I...?" she said and gestured towards the door. But before Dumbledore could answer, Hermione recognized the people trooping in the door behind Professor McGonagall. Her heart sank in her chest as Mrs. Weasley swiftly crossed the office and enfolded Hermione in her arms.

"Hermione, dear," she said with an air of forced cheeriness in her voice, "how are you dear?" Mrs. Weasley was talking overly loud and Hermione's stomach was tying itself into nervous, slippery knots. She quickly dropped her voice and muttered into Hermione's ear, "Do you know what's going on here? McGonagall just said it was about Ron and very important ... he's not hurt is he?"

Hermione couldn't stand the worry on Mrs. Weasley's face. She turned quickly and ran towards the door of the office, her breathing spiking quickly, choking her. She couldn't breathe anymore; she had to get out ... get out quickly before they started asking more questions. She soared past Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley, both of whom swam before her eyes as she ran, panicked towards the door... Harry called out to her as she blew by him.

"Hermione, wait--"

She kept running, skidding a bit on the carpet, before trying to dash out the door. Before she realized what was going on, a large, thin hand caught her around the wrist and kept her from falling over the doorframe. The hand stayed around her wrist as she righted herself and she looked up into its owners face, expecting to thank Professor Snape for averting her little tumble. With horror, she noted the hazel eyes hidden behind a shock of red hair and freckles.

She had wanted to keep her cool; it wasn't necessary, she told herself, to fly off the handle. Just walk away. But the throbbing fear in her heart had other plans. She felt disconnected from the girl who started screaming and flailing away from him.

"Don't! Don't you touch me!" she heard herself yelling. "Don't you dare lay a hand on me! Don't you ever come near me again!"

She was scratching at her wrist, screaming incoherently, by the time Harry had thrown his hands around her waist and dragged her, kicking out, tearing at his arms, across the room.

"Hermione," Harry said, "Hermione ... come on, M'inee, calm down ... it's okay, you're fine ..."

Hermione was trying to master herself, trying to get her limbs back under her control, but the room was spinning again, her lungs collapsing, everything was pulling at her. She could only vaguely note Harry shaking her gently as she clutched at the chair and her chest and anything else within her grasp. Her eyes were going blurry.

"Hermione!" Harry said, panic creeping into his voice. "Come on, honey, calm down!" Harry knelt down next to her chair and forcibly drew her to his chest. She started to sob hysterically and flail at him.

"It's okay," he said as she began to quiet, "it's okay. I won't let him touch you. I'm here. It's all right."

Hermione glanced around as her breathing slowed and noticed the wall-eyed stares of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the sadness in Dumbledore's eyes, the concern in McGonagall's. The fear and anxiety in Ron's. Hermione could tell that he was just barely holding himself from tearing out of the room as she had tried to do. McGonagall's eyes darted from Ron to Harry and Hermione in the chair across the room.

"Albus," she said, "perhaps it wasn't the wisest idea to do this with both of them here at the same time. Perhaps we should let her go while they--"

"No, Minerva, I'm sorry," Dumbledore answered calmly. "Miss Granger needs to be present in order for action to be taken. Molly, Arthur," Dumbledore said, turning to them, "please sit, I shall explain directly."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley quickly and quietly took seats in front of Dumbledore's desk; Mrs. Weasley looked quickly at Hermione, then nervously at Ron, and reached out for Mr. Weasley's hand. He took it wordlessly and inched his chair closer to Mrs. Weasley. Hermione noticed that she was shaking.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said brusquely, "I believe you can go back to Gryffindor Tower now--"

"He stays," Hermione said firmly.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall began.

"He stays," Hermione repeated.

Dumbledore raised a hand to McGonagall and she nodded shortly. Ron walked quietly over to the windowsill, where he rested his bottom and stared out over the grounds. Dumbledore removed his half-moon spectacles and folded them carefully before he began speaking.

"Molly, Arthur ... there's no easy way to discuss what has gone on here, and I will not insult you by delaying things with small talk. I have called you here for a very serious reason, and there can be no delay in action. Your son has perpetrated a very grave action upon another student, and we cannot turn a blind eye now that it has come to our attention.

"What...?" Mrs. Weasley began, but fell silent when Dumbledore sighed heavily.

"Albus, perhaps I should ...?" McGonagall offered, to which Dumbledore nodded. McGonagall cleared her throat, obviously uncertain of how to start. "It has come to our attention that Ronald has ... participated in an act that is defined, even by Muggles, as intolerable in any form--"

"Please, Minerva," Mr. Weasley interrupted, "if you keep us waiting any longer, Molly will have a heart attack. Just say it, please."

McGonagall opened her mouth but no sound came out. Dumbledore sighed heavily.

"Oh for god's sake," Harry spat impatiently. "Ron raped Hermione! There! Someone had to have the guts to say it!"

"Harry!" Molly shrieked. "That's impossible! What an awful thing to say! Ron wouldn't ... Arthur tell them! Ron wouldn't ... he couldn't--!"

Mr. Weasley placed a hand on Mrs. Weasley's arm and looked to his son, who continued to stare out the windows. "Ron?" he asked quietly.

Ron flinched and began to sob quietly.

"When?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Arthur, he couldn't have ..." Molly said helplessly.

"It's true," Ron said from the window.

"When?" Mr. Weasley repeated loudly.

"Halloween," McGonagall answered. "As we understand it, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger had ... argued about her conduct at the party, Mr. Weasley became angry and ... lashed out ..."

"I just ... I can't believe that Ron would ... he ... he cares for Hermione so ..." Mrs. Weasley stammered.

Harry stood next to Hermione's chair, his fists clenched next to his sides. "Show them, Hermione! Show them the bruises he left on your body. They'll believe it then. They'll see for themselves what he did to you! They can see how much he cares for you!"

Hermione shook her head furiously. "No, Harry, I ... no ... Harry, stop ..."

Harry tugged at the hands she had thrown up across her to shelter her body.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall warned.

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley said loudly. "Harry stop!"

Eventually, Harry trapped both of her hands in his wrists and used the other to loosen her tie and unbutton the top few buttons of her shirt. He ignored the repeated warning McGonagall was giving him; much to Harry's surprise, she stopped fighting and allowed him to turn her head towards the Weasleys.

"There!" he said, pointing to the lightly brown-ish purple circles fading on her neck. "You see. He left finger prints."

"Don't be ridiculous," Mrs. Weasley said. "There's no guarantee that those are Ron's fingers!"

"Molly..." Arthur began.

"There's no proof!" she shrieked, standing, clearly hysterical.

"Molly, please calm yourself," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat to usher her back to her chair.

"No proof?" Harry cried. "No?" Harry threw a furious glare towards the window and Ron was thrust from the ledge as if Harry, himself, had pushed him. All four adults in the room watched in fascinated horror as Ron was dragged bodily across the room by an unseen force; seemingly dragged by Harry's sheer will. Mrs. Weasley reached out a limp hand as Ron was deposited at the foot of Hermione's chair.

"Harry, please," Hermione cried, sobs started to eek out of her chest as she curled up, afraid to be touched by the man lying at her feet.

"No," Harry said fiercely, "they need to see!" He dragged Ron up to his knees and seized his wrist. Ron did not fight back as Harry grasped his hand and placed the fingers over the bruises. Even Harry grunted in horror as the fingers fit perfectly over the aged bruises.

Mrs. Weasley started weeping as Ron gradually drew his hands away from Hermione's throat. She curled up tighter into a ball within the chair's depths, her breath coming again in fast, heaving gasps. Ron collapsed into a hunch at her feet.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry ... I'm ... I ... I'm so sorry," he sobbed.

She said nothing, but cried all the harder, her breathing now in audible gasps that sounded like shrieks.

"Get away!" Harry cried in disgust. "Can't you see you're making her worse?"

McGonagall moved from Dumbledore's desk and placed her hands on Ron's shoulders, leading him away from Hermione's chair back to the other side of the room. "Molly, Arthur," she began, "I think you see now that Harry was telling the truth."

Molly and Arthur nodded wordlessly.

"Obviously we cannot allow this to go unpunished," Dumbledore continued. "This matter is of the utmost gravity and as proprietors of Hogwarts, where the crime took place, we must pursue it to the full extent of the law."

At the word 'crime,' Ron's head snapped up and his eyes filled with fear. Molly's eyes watered again but she said nothing; Arthur cleared his throat.

"Of course," Mr. Weasley said. "We couldn't expect you to let this go. And ... Hermione," he seemed to have trouble saying her name, "Hermione needs to feel that justice has been done, I'm sure."

"Well," Dumbledore started slowly, "Ronald will have punishment to be served at school until such time as Miss Granger is well enough to testify in front of the Wizengamot."

"No," Hermione said so quietly that only Harry noticed.

"She will have to make a formal statement and press documented charges, of course," Dumbledore continued after heaving a sigh, "so until Ronald is brought to trial, he will have to serve our punishments out. From there, the Wizengamot will decide what is to become of him as far as Hogwarts is concerned--"

"No," Hermione said stronger, partially drown out by a sob of fear from Ron. "No, I won't ... I won't press charges. I can't."

The entire room of people stared at her in disbelief.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall started.

"Hermione," Molly said firmly, reaching out a hand and laying it on the girl's arm. Hermione recoiled slightly, expecting a strike of some kind, but Molly's eyes were firm, but kind. "Hermione, if he's ... done this to you, he needs to face the consequences."

"No, Mrs. Weasley, I can't--"

"Hermione, I'm sorry," she said, "I'm sorry I didn't believe you. He is my son, but I can't ... I can't ... let him hurt you like that. You need to take some kind of action."

"I deserve it," Ron said after a moment of silence. "I do."

Hermione rose from her chair and walked to the fireplace, shutting out the rest of the room. She was almost talking just to herself. "I can't. I don't want to live it all over again. It's bad enough that I have to see it in my dreams. Bad enough that I ... that I have to have a friend ... gone. I can't do it again. I can't do that to Ron. I just ... I just don't want to think about it anymore. I don't want anymore."

Arthur rose from his seat and crossed the room. He lightly laid his hands on the back of Hermione's shoulders and she shrieked as she moved away from him.

"Don't touch me," she said, a little louder than she had intended. "I can't ... you can't ... you can't touch me. I trusted him, don't you see? He was one of my best friends, and he could do this to me."

She was backing away towards the door as she spoke. "He was my best friend and he could do this to me. If he could do this to me, anyone could do this to me! How could I trust anyone not to do this to me? How could anyone trust anyone not to do this?"

Hermione's breathing was erratic again and she found the room starting to spin in front of her eyes. Her knees wobbled and they threatened to give way underneath her, but she continued towards the door. "I have to go," she mumbled. "I'm going ... I have to go."

She stumbled towards the door, unaware of the calling of the people she left behind in the plush, warm office that smelled of tea and firewood.