The Book of Morgan Le Fey

Chapter Fifteen: Harry's Vision

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Percy, Fred and George all left Hogwarts on New Year's Day. The sun finally came out and Harry and Ron took advantage of it with a fly on their brooms and some easy Quidditch practice, then spent the rest of the afternoon taking down the hundreds of gaudy decorations Dobby had strewn there for the New Year's holiday.

'I swear, Dobby needs to get out more,' Ron said dryly, tossing another banner that read HAPPEE NOO YEER into the fire. 'I'm starting to think Hermione might have a point about spew.'

The students began to return to school that evening. With the common room clean, his studies up to date, and his morning fly on his broom out of the way, Ron had nothing to occupy his mind until Hermione got back that night. As such he was very nervous. He tried to take a long walk through the castle to clear his head, not really paying attention to where he was headed, but then he passed by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy--who was getting conked on the head by several mean looking mountain trolls--and he remembered that the Room of Requirement was just behind it and that it was a popular place for couples to go to snog.

Among other things, he thought, half-terrified. The room had been sealed shut but somehow Ron doubted the lack of access to that particular room would stand in the way of couples determined to do...other things. He wondered if he and Hermione would eventually--

But then he bit his lip and tried to think about something else, because thinking about THAT made things a bit uncomfortable for him in particular body parts.

Ginny arrived back with Dean at dinner time, full of stories about everything having to do with Muggles. Ron only half-listened to her chatter and tried to eat something, but his stomach was in knots.

'What's wrong with you?' said Harry in a low voice.

'Nothing,' said Ron. He couldn't bring himself to eat much.

'You're nervous about Hermione, aren't you?' said Harry.

'No,' Ron lied.

Harry appraised him coolly, clearly not believing him, but went back to his meal all the same.

Five minutes later as Harry finished his second helping of pudding and Ron continued to stare at his plate, a voice floated over them.

'Hi, Harry.'

Harry whirled around, nearly spilling his pumpkin juice, and looked up.

'Hi, Susan,' he said, his face lighting up with a smile.

'Uh, do you want to--' Susan began.

'Yeah,' said Harry at once, taking her hand and standing up. He left the Great Hall hand in hand with Susan without so much as a backward glance at Ron. Ron hoped they were careful; McGonagall was still on a tear about 'fraternizing' students.

'They're getting serious,' said Ginny, taking a bite of apple tart.

'Looks that way,' said Ron stiffly. He was too nervous to think about Harry right now.

'She seems good for him,' said Ginny dispassionately. 'He seems happy, or at least not so upset all the time.'

'Yeah,' said Ron.

'Are you okay, Ron?' said Ginny.

'Fine,' said Ron.

'Did you ever talk to Hermione?' said Ginny.

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'We, uh, talked.'

'You told her?'

'Yeah,' said Ron, his ears now beet red, his neck burning.

'How'd it go?' Ginny asked.

'Good,' said Ron. 'Uh, well, I mean.' He stared resolutely at his uneaten pudding.

'Oh,' said Ginny, and Ron could feel, if not see, her smile. 'Well, congratulations. It's about time.'

'Uh, thanks,' said Ron, and he realized he couldn't stand to sit down in the Great Hall another minute. He got up and headed to Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione arrived sometime after dinner. Ron was in the common room, pretending to read his History of Magic textbook. Seamus and Lavender were sitting on the sofa near the fire, flipping through a photo album. Colin Creevey and Ginny had taken a table in a far corner and were studying their Charms notes. Harry was still not back from his walk, or whatever it was, with Susan. Ron kept checking his watch every fifteen seconds, then looked down at his book and noticed he'd read the same line at least twenty times without it sinking in, when he heard a distinctive creak and looked up.

Hermione clambered through the portrait hole, dragging her trunk behind her.

Ron leapt up, his History of Magic book falling to the floor with a thud. He ignored it and hurried over to her.

'Hi, Hermione!' he said, his voice a bit too loud. Seamus and Lavender turned around. 'Uh,' Ron went on. 'I'll get the trunk for you.'

'Thanks,' said Hermione, smiling shyly. 'But, um, Ron, you can't really...carry it up to my room, you know.'

'Oh, right!' Ron said, remembering that boys couldn't enter the girls' dormitories. 'Uh, I forgot about that.'

'It's okay, I'll just levitate it upstairs,' she said.

They stood still for a long moment, just looking at each other. Hermione's hair was curlier but still looked very springy and soft and she was very tan. He really wanted to touch her hair. Well, he really wanted to touch HER, but instead he kept his hands at his sides, fists clenched.

'You...you look nice,' he said, wishing immediately that he'd thought to tell her she looked radiant or beautiful or anything more impressive than 'nice.' He heard Seamus and Lavender snigger and shot them a dirty look; they turned around and went back to their photo album.

'Thanks,' said Hermione. 'So, how...how was your holiday?'

'Oh, yeah,' said Ron. 'It was good. Thanks for the Ptolemy card, it was excellent. I really liked it. I mean, I told you that in my letters, but, you know thanks. And for the book as well.'

She smiled and drew him into a very tight hug. Ron hugged her back, breathing in the scent of her hair, which smelled a little different. Like lilacs and something tropical. Citrus, perhaps.

She kissed him on the cheek and pulled back, looking very shy. Ron was nearly overcome with the urge to kiss her on the lips right then, but he held back, not sure she'd appreciate that with the common room being so crowded.

'Have you seen Crookshanks?' she asked.

'Oh, uh,' said Ron. 'Actually, yeah, he's up in my room at the moment, sleeping. He's decided he likes the foot of my bed.'

'You're letting him sleep on your bed?' Hermione asked shocked.

'Yeah, well, you know,' said Ron. 'He seems to like me now, I guess. He's not so bad, really.'

'That's very sweet of you,' she said, smiling, and she hugged him again and kissed him on the cheek, except that he turned slightly and she caught the corner of his mouth.

'Oh,' said Hermione, blushing, as she pulled away.

'It's okay,' said Ron. 'My fault.' Not that he minded. No, he didn't mind at all.

Then he suddenly remembered Bill's advice about 'little things'; apparently, being nice to Crookshanks must be a 'little thing' that made Hermione happy. Ron resolved never to have an unkind thought about Crookshanks again.

'Well, I'll just put this away,' said Hermione when she stepped back from Ron. She looked at Ron expectantly.

'Oh!' he said suddenly, something clicking in his brain. 'Uh, shall we...go for a walk, or something? You know, after you've stowed your trunk?'

'That would be lovely,' she said, beaming at him. She pointed her wand at her trunk, saying 'Locomotor trunk,' and followed it up the staircase to the girls' dormitory. Ron watched her go, feeling absurdly happy that she was back, even if his stomach was flopping around like a dying fish again.

He returned to his chair and stacked up his books, ignoring the renewed giggling by Lavender and Seamus, and met Hermione at the foot of the girls' staircase when she reappeared.

'Shall we go, then?' he asked.

'All right,' she said. Ron took her by the hand and she smiled up at him. He noticed them how small her hand was compared to his. Hers was soft, but for her index finger and thumb, which were a bit callused from holding a quill so much. It was nice, holding her hand like that. They left the common room, not noticing that everyone else was staring at them.

They walked for well over an hour. Ron was very nervous at first, because he just wasn't sure he'd be able to talk to her as he had before he'd confessed everything to her and they'd kissed on the boys' staircase. It was indeed awkward for a few minutes, but pretty soon they were chatting about everything and nothing, and Ron suddenly realized that, even better, they were TALKING. Without having a row. They simple talked like best friends who happened to be holding hands.

'Ron,' said Hermione slowly.

'Yeah?' said Ron.

'I...missed you,' said Hermione, blushing a bit. 'Over the holiday.'

Ron blushed as well, and the nervous flutterings in his stomach started up again. 'Me, too. I mean, I missed you, too.'

'You know how last year, I came home from holiday early?' she said. 'Well, not home, but to the headquarters?'

'Yeah,' said Ron. 'Because Harry was--'

'It wasn't just...to be with Harry,' said Hermione, not looking at him. 'I...well, I rather wanted to be with you, too.'

This news made Ron feel inordinately happy, and he grinned.

'I'm glad you came back early,' he said.

'I really liked that perfume you gave me,' she said.

'Oh,' said Ron, remembering that she'd gotten him a homework planner, which he hadn't liked much. But he wasn't about to tell her that. 'Uh, I liked your gift, too.'

'No, you didn't,' said Hermione. She stopped walking and let go of his hand.

'Yeah, I did,' he insisted.

'Ron,' said Hermione, in that tone of hers that told him she didn't believe him at all. 'It's okay. I wanted to get you something else but...well, I didn't know what to get at all. It's hard to shop for boys and...'

'The homework planner really wasn't so bad,' said Ron. 'Honest. I used it during O.W.Ls.'

'You did?'

'Yeah,' he said, 'although I did put a Silencing Charm on it.'

She giggled. He usually didn't like it much when girls giggled, but it wasn't so bad when Hermione did it. Maybe because she didn't do it very often, or maybe because he was the one who'd made her giggle.

He took her hand in his again.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, and Ron realized that this was okay, too.

All too soon it was time to head back to the common room. They walked deliberately slowly, not really anxious to get back too soon, when they reached the Transfiguration classroom.

Ron started to move past it, clutching Hermione's hand in his, when she suddenly tugged him through the open door and into the darkened classroom.

'Hermione, what--' he started to ask her, but he was cut off when she flung her arms around him, pulled his head down and kissed him.

Ron staggered, completely taken off guard by her...assertiveness. But soon enough he had his arms around her and he was stroking her hair and he was tingling all over and remembering just what her mouth felt and tasted like.

She pulled away and he felt like he might fall down.

'Wow,' he said, his knees very weak.

'Sorry,' said Hermione quickly.

'What for?' said Ron. 'That was...really good.' He smiled what he knew had to be a very goofy grin.

She laughed shyly and looked down at her shoes. He took her hands in his and tugged her just a little closer.

'Is this...weird?' she said softly, finally looking up at him.

'Is what weird?' said Ron. He was still a bit dizzy from the kiss.

'You know,' said Hermione. 'I mean, you and me...you know.'

'I don't think it's weird,' said Ron. 'Different but not...weird. Do...do you think it's weird?'

'No,' she said, without hesitating. She looked at him and smiled, then looked away, shy again.

He was still holding her hands in his, when he noticed something.

'Your hands,' he said. 'They're really small.'

'Oh,' said Hermione. 'Maybe your hands are just...really big.'

'Right,' said Ron. 'That's me. Big clown hands and big clown feet.'

'I didn't mean it like that,' said Hermione quickly. She looked down and turned his hands so that his palms faced the ceiling, and she studied them for a moment. He swallowed. There was something about this gesture that struck him; he felt tingles spreading all over him even as he felt ashamed of his large, clumsy hands, that were freckled on top and callused beneath from playing Quidditch.

'I think they're very nice,' said Hermione shyly. She looked up at him and smiled. He smiled weakly back, his mind spinning. Nobody had ever told him he had nice hands. Nobody had ever told him he had nice anything, really. He wasn't handsome like Bill or good-natured like Charlie or smart like Percy or funny like Fred and George. He wore hand-me-downs and he scraped decent grades in school because the girl holding his hands right now helped him with his homework all the time. He was Harry Potter's Best Friend. He was nothing special. He was Just Ron.

Except that now he was alone in a dark classroom with a girl he'd fancied for the better part of forever and she was looking at him with wet lips and she'd just told him he had nice hands, and suddenly he felt like a whole lot more than Just Ron. He also felt a whole lot of things going on with his body and he was very, very glad at that moment that he had school robes on.

'Yeah?' he said, in part because he wouldn't mind if she said that again, and in part because his head was spinning too much for him to say anything else.

She only nodded, though, and moved closer to him and let go of his hands. His nice big hands. He clenched his fists, not quite sure where to put them. His eyes moved down, then up over Hermione and he suddenly had a very good idea of where he wanted to put his hands, but he stopped himself. She'd slap him for sure.

Instead he felt himself put his hands on her waist--that was really small, too, he noticed--and he tugged her closer to him again and he heard himself say 'C'mere' and he felt his head drop and felt her breath as she lifted her head and then they were kissing again.

Somewhere in the small part of Ron's brain that was still functioning properly, he thought perhaps they should be heading back to the common room. That maybe kissing in a classroom was not such a good idea. That there was a chance they could get caught.

The rest of him, however, was focused on what was happening with his lips, her lips, her hands, his hands. Hers were on the back of his neck. His ran up her back and pushed into her hair. Merlin, but it was so soft and wonderful. Her mouth tasted like chocolate and bloody hell, did they just open their mouths and oh my was that her tongue and he pressed his against hers and he knew they hadn't kissed like that on the stairs before Christmas and this was a million times better...

'Mr. Weasley! Miss Granger!'

They broke apart and found themselves looking at the very furious and thin-lipped Professor McGonagall.

'Oh dear,' murmured Hermione.

Ron gulped and looked at Professor McGonagall, who was white in the face. He, on the other hand, was so red in the face he was quite sure he resembled a giant tomato.

'Uh...hi, Professor,' he stammered, and like an idiot, he waved at her.

'This is a CLASSROOM, not Lover's Lane!' she snapped, marching over to them and looking supremely regal and supremely put out. She was shorter than Ron but in that moment she seemed to tower over him.

'I am shocked! Such behaviour in two prefects! After I specifically warned students about this very thing. I am extremely disappointed, especially in you, Miss Granger. I expected better judgment from you. Both of you receive detentions, and five points from each of you! Now get back to the common room immediately. And if I catch either of you engaging in inappropriate behaviour again, you'll get a lot worse!'

'Yes, Professor,' they both mumbled. They left the Transfiguration classroom with McGonagall right behind them. For a moment Ron thought she might follow them all the way back to the common room, but instead McGonagall turned around and headed in the direction of the staff room. Ron wondered why she was leaving him and Hermione alone after the way she'd just screeched at them, but then he realized that Hermione was practically running to the fat lady's portrait, and he started to jog to keep up with her.

'Fainting Fancies,' she said in a strangled sort of voice, and she and Ron crawled quickly through the portrait hole.

Hermione went into the common room first and raced over to the fireplace, where she collapsed against the mantle, her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Ron gulped at the sight of her sobbing. It would be awful for her, when she took being a prefect so seriously, to have received a detention. He felt absurdly guilty, even if it had been she who had pulled him into the Transfiguration classroom in the first place.

'Hermione, I'm really sorry about this,' he said regretfully, closing the distance between them and putting a hand on her shoulder. 'Please, 'Mione, don't cry.'

Hermione turned to him, but to Ron's shock, she wasn't crying. She was laughing hysterically.

'What's...what's so funny?' he asked, amazed.

'I...I got a de-detention!' she gasped, laughing so hard that she was clutching at a stitch in her side. 'I got a detention!'

'And that's funny?' said Ron, bewildered. What had gotten into her?

'It's hi-hilarious!' she croaked, wiping at her streaming eyes. 'We're p-prefects!'

'Uh, yeah, I know,' said Ron, starting to get a bit worried about her, because she was acting a bit mad. Entirely un-Hermione. Regular Hermione would indeed be sobbing or stomping round in a temper about getting a detention.

'And we-we got d-detention for "fraternizing" in a classroom!' she said, howling with laughter. 'That's brilliant!'

'It's not brilliant, it stinks!' Ron protested. 'This isn't funny! We got busted by McGonagall for...for snogging in a classroom and we got detention. AND we lost points!'

'Oh, Ron,' said Hermione, calming down at once and smiling up at him. 'You really need to lighten up.'

'I need to lighten up?' said Ron, incredulous. 'Me? You're actually telling ME I need to--'

But his voice broke off as he watched her laughing, and suddenly he found the whole thing hilarious, too, and he broke into laughter with her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following evening Ron and Hermione served their detentions, separately; McGonagall clearly didn't trust the two of them in a room together. Hermione was made to write lines ('I will not engage in fraternizing with a boy in classrooms').

Ron was sent to the trophy room again, to polish the silver, Muggle-fashion, under the watchful, grumpy eye of Filch. It went far better this time around, as Ron wasn't belching up slugs.

He entered the common room at around midnight, exhausted, to find Hermione sitting at a table in the corner, her head resting on an open book. She was fast asleep. All around her were books, more than she usually had, which was saying something. Books spread out on the table, on the floor, stacked up in the other chairs. He crept over to her table and knelt down next to her. Her hair was in her face. He brushed it back and on impulse he caressed her cheek with his thumb. Then he gave her arm a gentle shake.

'Mione,' he whispered. 'Wake up.'

Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up groggily. 'What? Oh! Ron!' She smiled at him sleepily.

'Hey,' he said. 'What are you doing? Term doesn't start until tomorrow. Don't tell me you still have homework left.'

'No,' said Hermione, yawning and stretching. 'I was just doing some research. You know, about viruses. See?' She indicated the book where her head had rested a moment ago. It was clearly a Muggle book, because the photos inside didn't move. One photo showed a picture of a horribly ill man lying half-dead on a crude stretcher inside what looked like little better than a tent. The man's face was sickly yellow and blood was bubbling from his nostrils. The other showed a picture of a red, translucent blob with several bizarre squiggles.

'What's that?' said Ron, indicating the photo of the blob and trying not to look at the photo of the man on the stretcher.

'It's a blood sample,' said Hermione, 'shown under a microscope. It's a magnifying glass that doctors use. The big blob is blood cell and those squiggles there, see? Those are strands of the Ebola virus.'

'Lovely,' said Ron, feeling slightly sick.

'Unfortunately I wasn't able to get much research done on holiday,' said Hermione, standing up and stretching again. 'It's not easy to cart all these books around, but I'm really grateful Mum and Dad's doctor friends are letting me use them. There's nothing like this stuff here at Hogwarts.'

Just then the portrait hole opened and Harry climbed into the common room.

'Hey,' he said tiredly, then he noticed the dozens of books surrounding Hermione's table. 'What's all this?'

'Research,' Ron answered. 'Hermione's got all these Muggle books on diseases.'

'I'm trying to determine what virus Voldemort would use,' she said. 'But so far nothing I've seen makes too much sense. There just isn't a virus that's both powerful enough and fast enough for Voldemort to get what he wants--'

'OW!' Harry cried out suddenly. His hand flew to his scar. He dropped his bag of school books.

'What?' said Ron, rushing over to Harry and taking his arm to lead him to the sofa. 'What's up?'

'It hurts,' Harry groaned, sinking onto the couch. 'Really...really bad. It hurts.'

'Harry!' Hermione cried, running over to him. 'What can we do?'

'Nothing,' Harry said through gritted teeth. 'Nothing. It...it has to pass...on its own--OW!'

His face had gone ashen. He was sweating. He looked ready to vomit.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other and then at Harry, feeling helpless.

'Voldemort...' Harry said slowly, panting. 'He's...a lot's happening. He's...he's really emotional about something...he's angry and he's...he's more determined. I think...the scientists!'

Harry sat up, his eyes wide, his hand still at his scar. 'Those three scientists. Something's happened to them. Something bad. Voldemort's talking to someone...I can't see who it is...'

Ron stared at Harry in fear and awe as Harry, lost in his vision, continued to speak.

'Something about a book,' Harry said. 'He wants a book...he thinks it will help him gets what he wants...a book. He's telling whoever he's talking to...to get the book. To find the book...but he doesn't know...the bloke Voldemort's talking to swears he doesn't know...OW! Oh, god, help me...no...'

'Harry!' Hermione cried. Ron grabbed Harry's right hand and clutched it tightly, but Harry didn't seem to notice.

Harry began to thrash around on the sofa and mutter words that Ron could not understand. Hissing, sinister words. He was speaking in Parseltongue. His scar was almost glowing red on his sweaty forehead.

'Ron, what can we do?' Hermione cried, looking at him. Ron shook his head. He didn't know. He simply didn't know. He felt utterly useless.

Harry's whole body began to tremble, and his eyes were fluttering and his ashen face went white and he spoke in a voice that was not his own.

'Get the book...get it...find it...it's...it's in Hogwarts...' Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he passed out.