The Final Reckoning

Chapter Seventeen: Professor Hopkirk

Ron's plan to get him and Hermione quickly settled in their rooms before taking Hermione to his room and being 'properly alone' was thwarted almost at once when Hermione announced that they had to do patrols first.

'Patrols?' Ron said, appalled. 'Now? We just got here!'

'Ron, we're Head Boy and Girl,' Hermione groaned. 'Patrols are a part of the job.'

'But...but...' Ron protested weakly. 'I wanted to...'

The protest died on his lips when he saw the look on Hermione's face. They therefore went to their rooms, alone, to get settled in. The rooms were in a small corridor that looped off the main corridor on the fourth floor. Ron entered his room, using his wand to unlock the door. Dumbledore's letter, that listed all the new rules, also contained instructions for setting a password for his room; Ron read the instructions carefully and performed a Locking Charm and chose a password: Chocolate Frog.

He then gave a cursory glance at his new living space. It wasn't a huge room, but he had his own bathroom and a nice big bed and a comfortable looking desk. His trunk and Pigwidgeon's cage were already set up for him; Pig was sleeping soundly, with his tiny head tucked into his wing.

Ten minutes later he met Hermione in the main corridor, and they set off on patrols. For roughly a nanosecond Ron considered pulling Hermione into a corner somewhere and snogging her until she was breathless, but he immediately abandoned the idea. She'd be furious, and Ron couldn't get away from the fact that the patrols, however annoying, were necessary now. After what had happened last term, nobody could afford to be too careful.

They patrolled in silence, passing Aurors and prefects as they moved through the corridors, up to the towers and down to the dungeons. All told, it took them almost two hours. It was near midnight when they headed back to the fourth floor and found the Head Boy and Girl's corridor.

They came to Hermione's door first. She muttered a password that Ron couldn't quite hear, and her door clicked open. Before she went inside she turned and looked up at him and gave him...that look. That soft, doe-eyed look of hers that made him melt and feel excited all at once.

He started to say something--he wasn't really sure what, it was always difficult to talk when he was suddenly turned on--but then she threw her arms round his neck and kissed him firmly.

'Do you want to--' she murmured against his lips.

'Yeah,' he gasped, and he felt her pull him through her door--

ZAP!

'OW!' Ron yelped, and he leapt back from her door. 'What the bloody hell--'

'Oh...oh, no,' Hermione groaned.

'Don't tell me,' said Ron, as realization clunked in his brain. 'Your room's jinxed against guys entering.'

'I thought I'd fixed that!' she said angrily, and she put her hands on her door, on the door frame itself. 'I could have sworn...' She pulled her wand from her robes.

'Forget it,' said Ron. 'Let's just...go to my room.'

He tried not to consider whether his room might be similarly jinxed against girls entering.

'Wait,' said Hermione. 'I can fix this. Just a second...' She eyed the door carefully, and then made an elaborate motion with her wand and muttered something.

There was a brief red glow on the door and the door frame, and then it faded. Hermione walked through the door.

'Try again,' she said, smiling softly and holding out her hand.

Bloody hell, she looks so yummy when she does that.

'Okay,' said Ron, and he reached to take her hand, moving his hand past the door frame into her room--

ZAP!

'Ow!' Ron snarled, yanking his hand away from her. Whatever spell it was that was guarding her room had a very nasty sting. He looked at his hand and saw that it was red.

'Well...dammit!' Hermione hissed angrily. 'This is ridiculous. There has to be some way I can--'

'Hermione,' said Ron impatiently, struggling to keep his voice down, 'can we please just forget it and go to my room?'

'But Ron, I know I can fix this, just give me a few minutes to--'

He silenced her by kissing her, deeply and slowly. He felt her melt against him.

'Let's...go to your room,' she murmured, when he pulled away at last. Her lips were swollen and pink and her eyes were dark.

'Good idea,' he said, grinning, and he took her hand, crossing his fingers that she could get inside.

His room wasn't all that far away, just down the hall about a hundred feet. He tried not to run, but honestly, it was difficult not to; the anticipation of being with Hermione was driving him mad.

They reached his door and Hermione bit her lip as Ron took out his wand, muttered the Unlocking Charm, and then his password. The door clicked open.

He went inside first; she didn't follow. He turned to see her standing in the corridor, a look of apprehension on her face.

'Come on,' he said. 'I'm sure...there's nothing there. They don't jinx the boys' dormitories so why bother with the Head Boy's room, right?'

'I don't fancy getting a shock,' she said.

'Hey, I got two,' said Ron. 'Small price to pay, as far as I'm concerned.'

'Honestly,' said Hermione, rolling her eyes and smiling. 'Is there anything a boy won't do to get a shag?'

'Hermione, please,' Ron begged.

'I'll just...try with my hand first,' she said, and she reached up and slowly, slowly--far too slowly--extended her hand toward the threshold of his door. Ron held his breath.

Please, please, please let her be able to come in here. I really don't fancy dealing with my frustration alone.

She squeezed her eyes shut and reached across the threshold of his door.

And nothing happened.

She opened her eyes to find that her arm was half inside his room, untouched, and there were no alarms or electric shocks.

'Thank god,' said Ron, and he moved toward her and started to pull her into the room, but then he stopped. 'Wait, I just thought of something.'

'What?' said Hermione. Ron gently pushed her back into the corridor; he looked up and down the corridor in both directions.

'Ron, what are you doing?' said Hermione, with an edge of impatience in her voice.

'Sorry, just checking,' he said, and he looked down at her and grinned. 'I've always wanted to do this.'

'Do wha--Ron!' Her question dissolved into a squeal and a giggle as he scooped her up in his arms.

'Shh!' he scolded, before sealing his lips over hers. She wrapped her arms round his neck and let him carry her into his room. She began to giggle between kisses as he kicked his door shut behind him with a flourish; it locked and sealed on its own. He started toward his bed, which looked huge and inviting.

They stopped kissing for a moment and he grinned.

'Is this the part where you throw me on the bed and ravish me?' Hermione said, her voice light and teasing.

Oh, bloody hell. I love this girl.

'Do you want me to?' he asked, his voice suddenly a bit croaky.

'I think I do,' she murmured, against his lips.

'Game on,' he said, grinning wolfishly.

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

Afterward, they held each other for a while. Ron knew at some point she'd have to go back to her own room, but he was in no hurry to let her go just yet. He'd not had a chance in what felt like forever to just lie there with his girl in his arms, and he intended make the most of this.

And yet, as they lay there quietly in the dark and his eyes took in the shape of the room, the contours of its simple furniture, the dim, weak light emanating from the bathroom, Ron felt just a bit...off. He knew it had nothing to do with Hermione. It was two words, a concept, that was only now beginning to hit him.

My room.

Not his and Harry's (and Neville and Seamus and Dean's) room. His own room. For six years Ron had fallen asleep almost every night with his best friend in the next bed. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they played chess. Sometimes they didn't say anything. But Harry was nearly always there (except those nights when he'd snuck off to be with Susan). And Ron was nearly always there, too. And now...Ron would sleep in his own room, and he knew there would be some nights he'd have to sleep alone. Even with the privacy afforded to him and Hermione, he knew there would have to be a limit to them sharing a bed through the night. If either of them were ever caught, it would be disastrous.

But there it was. The idea of sleeping alone in a room in Hogwarts, when Ron knew he was supposed to be in the dormitory with his mates; he was supposed to be there in case Harry ever woke up in the throes of another horrifying vision. Who else but Ron knew, really, how to deal with that?

And suddenly, the idea of having his very own room seemed just a bit less attractive to him.

Hermione must have sensed something, because he felt her shift and lift her head from his chest.

'Ron?' Her voice was soft in the darkness.

'What, love?'

'You're thinking about Harry, aren't you?' she said.

'Yeah,' he admitted. 'Is that weird, to be thinking of him...now?'

'No,' said Hermione, and she put her head on his chest again. 'I'm thinking about him, too. About how things will be this year.'

'I just...what if he has another nightmare or something?' said Ron. 'I don't feel right...not being there. You know?'

'I know,' said Hermione. 'Ron...maybe you should talk to Neville about this.'

'Neville?' said Ron, confused. 'Why?'

'Well,' said Hermione, 'someone has to help Harry if he has another vision. Why not Neville? He's been through so much with us, he's really trustworthy, and he and Harry get on well. I think Neville could handle it. And he said he wanted to help Harry, remember?'

'I couldn't talk to Neville without talking to Harry first,' said Ron.

'No, you couldn't,' said Hermione. 'And talking to Harry about this...well, you know how he gets.'

'We both know,' said Ron. 'But...you're right. Someone has to be there for him and...if it can't be me, then Neville makes the most sense.' He let out a breath and felt his spirits sag.

'Ron, it's okay,' said Hermione, leaning up on her elbow and brushing a fringe of red hair off his forehead. 'You'll still be there for Harry, even if you're not in Gryffindor Tower. And Harry knows that.'

'You really think so?'

'I know so,' said Hermione firmly, and she lay back as his hand began to trace lazy patterns over her smooth belly. She smiled up at him, and it melted him inside, and he decided to push away the bad stuff for now and think about it tomorrow.

'What?' she asked.

His hand continued to move over her tummy.

'Nothing,' he said. 'I just...I love you, that's all.'

'Hmm,' she murmured. 'Do you?'

He gave her a look. 'You know I do.'

'Show me,' she whispered. And then she smiled suggestively.

She is such a contradiction. One minute all shy and proper, and the next minute just...naughty. I'm the luckiest bloke alive.

He grinned at her. 'I think I can manage that,' he said.

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

Hermione left his room just before dawn. His bed felt cold and empty without her, but he managed to get a few more hours of sleep before the day began in earnest. He dreamed of Hermione, and awoke about as aroused as he'd been last night.

He rolled his eyes and checked his bedside clock. No time for a wank. He thought of something thoroughly disgusting.

Filch in a nightie.

The image worked. Ron showered and dressed; his stomach growled then, and he headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Ron was just tucking into his bacon and eggs when Harry slid in to sit next to him.

'Hey,' said Harry, sounding tired.

Ron immediately looked him over.

'You look knackered,' he said.

'Didn't sleep well,' said Harry shortly. 'And before you ask, no, I didn't have any nightmares or visions. I just couldn't sleep.'

'Oh,' said Ron. 'Okay.' He took a bit of toast and then remembered something.

'Hey, whatever happened with Daphne?' he asked.

Harry said nothing for a moment, but his face flushed slightly.

'I asked her out,' he said.

'No kidding,' said Ron, trying to digest this information. 'Where are you taking her?'

'Picnic, on the grounds,' said Harry. 'First Hogsmeade visit is weeks away, so...'

'Right,' said Ron. 'Well, cool. She seems nice enough. Good looking, too.'

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Very.'

At that moment Daphne came into the Great Hall with Blaise Zabini and another Slytherin girl Ron didn't know. She glanced at the Gryffindor table and caught Harry's eye, and smiled. He smiled back, and his eyes glazed over just slightly. Ron grinned.

'Is that all you did?' he said in a low voice. 'Ask her out?'

Harry's eyes were still on Daphne as she sat down next to Blaise. She smiled once more at Harry before turning her attention to the other Slytherin girl.

'We might have had a snog,' Harry muttered, fighting a grin.

'Excellent,' said Ron, grinning widely and pouring himself some coffee.

'It was that,' said Harry, looking at Ron and smiling. A real smile. Ron's good mood increased.

'Hey,' said another voice, and Ron and Harry looked up to see Neville sit down. 'Last year of school. Weird, isn't it?'

'Are you kidding?' said Ron. 'No more Snape after this year. I'd say that's a good thing.'

'True,' said Neville. 'But after Voldemort Snape doesn't seem so scary anymore.'

Ron and Harry stopped chewing their food and exchanged a look, and then looked at Neville, who went pale.

'Sorry,' he said. 'I...I shouldn't have brought it up.'

'It's okay, Neville,' said Harry at once. 'How are you doing with...you know?'

And it struck Ron right then that neither he nor Harry had bothered to ask Neville about this during the Apparition training.

'Okay, I guess,' said Neville. 'I mean...my gran was really proud of me and all, especially about...about...her.'

'Her' was Bellatrix Lestrange, the witch who'd tortured Neville's parents with the Cruciatus Curse until they had both lost their minds. Neville had killed her in the battle at the Riddle House. Ron watched Neville for a moment as the other boy pushed his eggs around on his plate. He wondered if Neville had nightmares about what he'd done.

Like I have about Dolohov. Only, not as much as I used to.

Nobody said anything for a moment, and then Ron forcibly changed the subject. 'You never told us, Neville,' he said, 'whether you got your Apparition license.'

'Oh!' said Neville, and he brightened considerably. 'I got it. First try, even. Only...' At this Neville lowered his voice and leaned in. 'Don't tell anyone but...I sort of splinched off a bit of a fingernail.'

'Did you?' said Ron.

'Yeah,' said Neville, and he grinned. 'But nobody noticed and...well...I sort of forgot to mention it.'

'Sneaky,' said Harry. 'Maybe you should be in Slytherin.'

Neville snorted. 'Not on your life. That lot? No thanks.'

'They're not all bad,' said Harry, his eyes skipping over to Daphne again.

'If you say so,' said Neville with a shrug, and he took a bit of bacon. After a moment, he looked about the Hall.

'Where's Hermione?' he asked, and then he looked at Ron, and Harry followed suit.

Ron felt his ears get a bit hot, and he tried to act casual as he shrugged. 'Probably in the library. You know how she is, first day of school and everything--'

But suddenly Hermione appeared in the Great Hall, and she practically ran over to the Gryffindor table, her hair flying. She sat down hard next to Ron and dumped her bag--overstuffed with books as usual--onto the bench next to her.

'I can't believe it!' she said breathlessly. 'First day of lessons and I overslept! Wonderful start I'm on, being Head Girl. Can't even wake up when I'm supposed to--'

'Keep your shirt on, Hermione,' Ron said, without thinking.

Hermione gave a squeak; Harry and Neville both sniggered.

'I mean...relax,' said Ron, glaring at both of them before he looked sheepishly at his girlfriend. 'You're not late. Lessons don't start for another twenty minutes.'

'I know,' said Hermione, 'but I wanted a bit more time to mentally prepare myself. N.E.W.T. classes this year are going to be so demanding and I really need to have all my wits about me if I want to do well--'

'Hermione, it is physically impossible for you to do badly in school,' said Harry. 'You've probably memorized every book at Hogwarts by now.'

'Not really,' said Hermione modestly, and Ron fought back a laugh. She tried hard to be humble where her intelligence was concerned, but she couldn't help but love it when people praised her for her smarts.

'Oh, dear,' she said, her eyes drifting up to the staff table. 'Dumbledore's not here.'

'He's not?' said Harry, and he looked up to find that, indeed, the Headmaster's chair was empty.

Former Headmaster. He's retired now.

Professor McGonagall was sitting in her usual seat; somehow this didn't surprise Ron in the least.

'Why do you need to talk to Dumbledore?' Ron asked. 'Something to do with Head Girl stuff?'

'No,' said Hermione, and at once her voice changed; she looked evasive. 'Just...some research I was doing.'

'Research?' Neville asked, intrigued. 'For what?'

'Extra credit,' said Hermione at once, and Ron knew she was lying. If he had to guess, she was probably doing more research on ways for Harry to kill Voldemort.

Ron shuddered. He didn't want to think about...that. Not on the first day of school.

'Hey,' said another voice. It was Seamus Finnigan; he and Lavender Brown sat down across from them and poured themselves some coffee.

'Did ye get a load of the schedules this year?' said Seamus, munching on some toast. 'Defence Against the Dark Arts is our first lesson, with the Ravenclaws.'

'Seamus is only excited about it because of the new teacher,' said Lavender, rolling her eyes as she sipped her coffee daintily. 'Honestly, you'd think he'd never seen a female before.'

'Not one like her,' said Seamus, grinning.

'Are we talking about the lovely Professor Hopkirk?' said Dean Thomas, as he sat down and began to eat his breakfast

'I still think she's creepy,' said Neville.

'I agree,' said Harry.

'Whatever she is,' said Ron, looking over his own schedule and unfolding it, 'she's got to be better than Snape. At least we're spared that agony until tomorrow--hey, what's this?'

Another small piece of parchment fluttered onto the table. He picked it up and looked at it.

Dear Mr. Weasley,

Please report to my office at 7 p.m. this evening. I would like to meet with you, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley, Mr. Longbottom and Harry tonight to discuss something very important.

Regards,

Albus Dumbledore

P.S. The password is Blood-Flavoured Lollipop.

'What is that, Ron?' Lavender asked.

'Nothing,' said Ron. 'Just a Head Boy and Girl thing.'

He passed the note to Hermione and gave Harry and Neville a look, which the other boys seemed to understand--they'd discuss it later. It was only then that Ron noticed Ginny wasn't in the Great Hall.

'Where's Ginny?' he asked.

Harry, who'd been sipping his orange juice, coughed and sprayed juice down his front.

'Are you okay, Harry?' Hermione asked, passing him a napkin.

'Fine,' he choked.

'Have you seen her, Harry?' Ron asked.

'Seen who?'

'Umbridge,' said Ron sarcastically. 'Ginny, you prat. Have you seen her?'

'No,' Harry croaked. 'Haven't seen her at all this morning. Haven't seen her since last night. I don't know where she could be.'

Ron eyed Harry for a moment. His face was flushed and his green eyes were darting every which way, refusing to meet Ron's.

What is going on? Lately I bring up Ginny and he starts acting all weird.

For a moment Ron debated whether he should push the issue, but decided against it. Not here in the Great Hall.

'I saw Ginny going into the hospital wing this morning,' said Dean.

'Hospital wing?' said Ron, alarmed. 'What's she doing there?'

'Dunno,' said Dean, shrugging, but his answer, too, seemed evasive and not entirely truthful. 'She didn't look sick or injured or anything.'

'Then why go to the hospital--' Ron began, but he stopped when he felt Hermione pinch his thigh, very hard. He winced and met Hermione's eyes; she was looking at him hard, and he understood.

It must have something to do with her...power. She said she was training with Madam Pomfrey, after all.

There you go. That's all it is. No cause for concern.

And yet, as they all finished eating and gathered their books to go to class, Ron couldn't help but feel uneasy. Why were Dean and Harry both acting so weird about Ginny?

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

Ron, Harry, Hermione and Neville entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom to find it already full. The boys were crowded up toward the front of the room, and the girls--all looking a bit disgruntled--were partnered up at tables near the back.

'Honestly,' Hermione grumbled. 'She's not that pretty.'

For a moment Ron was torn as to whether he should sit next to Harry or Hermione, but then Hermione nodded at Ron and flicked her eyes at Harry, and Ron sat next to Harry, as Neville took a seat next to Hermione. The classroom was filled with the buzz of chatter, but Ron didn't feel much like talking. He pulled out parchment and quill and ink. They had no textbooks as of yet, owing to the fact that, as usual, Dumbledore hadn't found a Defence teacher until the last minute. But then Ron noticed a tall stack of books at the front of the room; he couldn't make out the titles but he assumed those must be their textbooks.

Ron checked his watch and noticed that Professor Hopkirk was late. Odd.

Not very professional behaviour, being late.

In the next instant Ron felt, rather than heard, the doors at the back of the room open. Everyone turned in their seats to see Professor Hopkirk stride, no, glide gracefully into the room. Once again she was dressed entirely in black, but this time she had no hat on to hide the bright strawberry blonde that was her hair.

As she moved toward the front of the room the eyes of every male in the classroom were glued to her. Ron's, too. He couldn't help it. She was too beautiful to be real. Almost as though she were a Veela, and yet, Veela were not so pale, their skin not so translucent.

Professor Hopkirk passed by Ron and Harry's table, and Ron felt it: a sudden, almost painful blast of cold wash over him. Just as quickly it was gone, replaced by a blast of sticky, uncomfortable warmth.

Ron glanced at Harry, and the look on his best mate's face told Ron that Harry had felt it, too. Ron looked at Neville and Hermione, and knew they'd felt it as well.

It was then that Ron felt another frisson of energy--neither cold nor hot--as Professor Hopkirk turned and faced the class. She was holding a wand in her left hand.

'Good morning,' she said, and her voice was impossibly low to belong to a woman, and yet it was distinctly feminine. 'Welcome to Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, N.E.W.T. level. I know who all of you are so there is no need for time-wasting introductions.'

She appraised the class coolly, her impossibly pale blue eyes--they looked like ice--scanning the room.

'I understand,' she said, picking up a piece of parchment from her desk, 'that Professor William Weasley was your teacher last year, and that you all were working on basic Occlumency, is that correct?'

Nobody said a word, but about half the class nodded.

'Well, don't be shy,' said Professor Hopkirk sharply. 'Speak up.'

'Yes, ma'am,' came several overlapping murmurs.

She looked disappointed. 'Really,' she said. 'You call yourselves N.E.W.T. level students? I ask you a simple question and the lot of you behave as if you're a bunch of five year olds who've been caught with a broken lamp. Since when is telling me what you've learned a cause to look so guilty?'

Ron gulped.

'Speak up!' Professor Hopkirk snapped, smacking her wand on the desk and making the whole class jump. 'Were you in fact working on basic Occlumency with Professor Weasley last year?'

'Yes, ma'am!' the class shouted.

'That's better,' said Professor Hopkirk, and she smiled. 'Much better. If you wish to succeed in this class, I will expect not only superior work from all of you, but a lot more assertiveness. We are in the midst of a war, ladies and gentleman. We cannot afford to shrinking violets, now can we?'

Ron shuddered. Beautiful or not, this new teacher was a little scary. And not just because she was so pale she looked like she might almost be a ghost. And not just because whenever she moved, the temperature changed so drastically.

'This year,' said Professor Hopkirk, in a calmer, more even tone as she began to pace, 'will, of course, be your most demanding year.'

She paced back and forth across the front of the room, but as she spoke, her voice changed again, and it was low once more. Seductive. Ron shivered.

'In looking over the history of this class, I am concerned,' she went on, still clutching her wand in her left hand. 'There have been significant gaps in your education due to a lack of a steady teaching. Only half your professors--based on the notes given to me by Headmistress McGonagall--appear to have actually taught you anything useful, but the skills you have now are currently inadequate, not only for your exams, but for the dangers of the real world.'

She stopped in front of Neville and gave him a look that made him shudder visibly.

'Nervous, Mr. Longbottom?'

'N-no,' Neville lied.

'You're a horrible liar,' said Professor Hopkirk, her decadent voice oozing like honey from her lips. 'A Death Eater would have no trouble successfully interrogating you, I imagine.'

Neville flushed, and he looked both embarrassed and angry. Ron felt a flash of anger as well. He was liking Professor Hopkirk less and less by the second.

Professor Hopkirk turned away from Neville and returned to her desk.

'Now,' she said, her voice sharp again. 'I understand that thus far, none of you save for Harry Potter is able to resist the Imperius Curse. This is unacceptable. We will have to get everyone up to speed there. I also understand that none of you have been taught the methods for safely dealing with the magical world's most dangerous creatures, Dementors notwithstanding. I will have to get all of you up to speed on that, as well. The Dark Lord's armies do not consist merely of Death Eaters, and the defensive magic you've learned up to now applies mostly only to them.'

She paused a moment, and her eyes swept over the room.

'What is the most effective way to kill a werewolf?' she asked suddenly, her voice piercing the quiet of the room.

Hermione gave a little gasp and Harry and Ron exchanged looks.

'Well?' Professor Hopkirk snapped.

Hermione raised her hand.

'Yes, Miss Granger?' said Professor Hopkirk.

'A silver bullet or blade,' said Hermione, her voice just a bit timid.

'True,' said Professor Hopkirk. 'Silver is poisonous to werewolves. Unfortunately, if you're close enough to a werewolf to be able to use a blade, chances are you've already been bitten. And while there are wizards and witches who avail themselves of the use of guns--one of the better Muggle weapons--solid silver bullets are hard to come by and are expensive. Any other way, then, to kill a werewolf?'

Hermione raised her hand tentatively again.

'Yes, Miss Granger?' said Professor Hopkirk, smiling coolly.

'There's a spell,' she said. 'But...it's restricted by the Ministry--'

'What spell is that, Miss Granger?'

Hermione swallowed. 'It's...it's a cutting spell--'

'The name, Miss Granger, the name,' Professor Hopkirk snapped. 'I'm quite sure you know it.'

'Caedere,' said Hermione. 'The Caedere Charm.'

'Very good, Miss Granger,' said Professor Hopkirk, her voice almost a purr. 'Ten points to Gryffindor.'

Ron shivered.

Somehow it's not so cool when she's giving the points.

'Do you know the incantation?' Professor Hopkirk went on, and she smiled. 'For another ten points.'

Hermione hesitated. Ron knew she had to know the incantation--he had yet to hear of a spell or charm or curse Hermione hadn't read about somewhere. Somehow, Ron didn't think Hermione's reluctance to answer the question was because she didn't know the answer.

'Miss Granger?' said Professor Hopkirk.

'Caedere venas argenteum,' said Hermione at last. 'But the charm is restricted by the Ministry because it's so dangerous, and you don't even need it to stop a werewolf, you only need to Stun it--'

'That will do, Miss Granger,' said Professor Hopkirk. 'You've answered the question more than adequately. Another ten points for Gryffindor.'

'Th-thank you,' said Hermione, looking slightly appalled. Professor Hopkirk didn't seem to notice.

'Now,' the Professor said, 'obviously you haven't done any reading over the summer, because you lacked textbooks. I will remedy that right now. Accio books!'

With a wave of her wand, the Professor summoned the stack of books, and then began to distribute them by levitating them to the tables in the room.

Two books landed in front of Ron with a thud.

'Understanding the Origins and Methods of Dark Magic: A Practical Guide,' Ron read. And then 'Beyond Avada Kedavra: The Ultimate Guide to the World's Most Lethal Charms, Curses and Hexes.'

Everyone read the titles of their books and a collective gasp went up in the room.

'Professor,' said Hermione fretfully. 'These...these textbooks--they're restricted by the Ministry. They're not allowed to be used as school texts--'

'Miss Granger, I suggest you be quiet or risk losing all those generously awarded house points,' Professor Hopkirk snapped, and her eyes went ice cold. 'I am well aware of the Ministry's rules and regulations. Under normal circumstances, of course, these books would not be available to you as school texts. But seeing as we are at war, Miss Granger, I was allowed to make an exception. Unless...you prefer not to learn the most effective means of defending yourself...and your friends?'

She looked penetratingly at Hermione, who seemed to shrink into herself. Then Professor Hopkirk turned slightly.

She cast a long glance at Harry; he held her gaze for a moment, but then broke away with a visible shudder, looking down at his hands. Ron noticed a thin sheen of sweat on Harry's forehead. Then she turned her eyes on Ron.

Ron glared back at her defiantly. He didn't like her at all. Not one bit. And yet, as she looked deep into his eyes, he felt...something. Cold, and then that same weird, damp warmth, and suddenly he a drop of sweat trickle down between his shoulder blades. She was gazing at him with a frightening expression in her eyes. Frightening and...and blatantly erotic. She licked her lips and Ron felt a rush in his veins as his eyes followed the slow sweep of her pink tongue, and then he felt it: he was aroused.

Bloody hell. This can't be happening.

She knows what she's doing. That sick cow. What is she up to?

She looked away, and that feeling passed, but then Ron felt sick. Dirty. He wanted to take a long, cold shower and wipe her frightening, beautiful face from his mind. What had she just done?

Professor Hopkirk spoke, and her voice cut through the swirl of emotions in Ron's brain like cold steel.

'Today I'd like to devote to some reading,' she said, her voice brisk and snappish. 'Chapters One and Two in Origins and Methods. Homework tonight will be an essay, two feet, on the development of one of the ten most common dark spells listed in Chapter Two; you are free to write about whichever spell strikes your fancy.'

Ron shuddered again as he opened his book. He exchanged a glance with Harry, who looked pale and nervous; Hermione glanced back at Ron with anxious brown eyes. He felt his stomach clench to think of what Professor Hopkirk had done, how she'd coaxed that reaction from him. He smiled weakly at Hermione and willed the image of Professor Hopkirk from his mind, keeping his eyes glued to the pages as he read. But he felt her gliding around the classroom, watching them, because every time she passed, she left that blast of cold, followed by that sick, sexual heat, in her wake.

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

Nobody talked about the Dark Arts lesson until lunchtime, and by then, it was the only thing any of the Gryffindor seventh years could speak of. Ron was grateful to put as much distance between himself and Professor Hopkirk as he could.

Ron, Harry, Neville and Hermione sat together, away from the rest of the Gryffindors. Ginny, having just completed Divination, joined them. She sat next to Neville and smiled weakly at Harry.

'Hey, Gin,' Ron said, as casually as he could. 'How are you?'

'Fine,' said Ginny shortly.

'Dean mentioned he saw you going into the hospital wing,' said Ron.

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously, but she kept her voice even. 'Just had a quick meeting with Madam Pomfrey about a training session.'

'Training?' said Neville brightly. 'Oh, are you thinking of being a Healer, Ginny?'

'Something like that, Neville,' said Ginny, smiling at him. 'So how was the Dark Arts lesson?'

Ron smirked--she was changing the subject. He let it slide.

'It was the weirdest bloody lesson I've ever had,' he said firmly.

'Don't swear,' Hermione interrupted. 'But...yes, it was weird.'

'Scary, more like,' said Neville.

'I'll say,' said Harry, but he steadfastly didn't look at Ginny. 'What's the deal with these textbooks, anyway?'

'Highly restricted,' said Hermione irritably. 'Those aren't defence books. Those are books on using Dark magic.'

'Are you serious?' said Ginny. 'You really think Dumbledore or McGonagall would let Hopkirk teach us how to actually use Dark Magic?'

'Maybe not either of them, but the Board of Governors might,' said Hermione darkly. 'After what happened last term? A third of the students aren't even enrolled in school anymore after that. The Board of Governors is in as much political hot water as the Ministry. They need to look like they're doing something.'

Ginny shivered slightly, and Ron remembered something.

'I almost forgot this,' he said. 'I got a note from Dumbledore this morning. He wants to see all of us in his office tonight at seven.'

'All of us?' said Neville. 'Me, too?'

'You, too,' said Ron. 'He said was important.'

'Damn,' said Harry. 'I was hoping to have a fly tonight.'

'We can have a fly after,' said Ron.

'Ron, you're supposed to work on prefect patrol schedules tonight, remember?' said Hermione.

'I'll do it,' said Ron defensively. 'After I have a fly with Harry.'

'And your homework?' said Hermione. 'Were you two planning on fitting that in?'

'One day in school and she starts up on us,' said Ron, smirking at Harry and Neville. Neville blushed and smiled.

'Oh, really,' said Hermione.

'Mind if I join you?' said Ginny, looking at Ron. 'Flying, I mean?'

She looked at Harry, and he looked at her, and they both flushed very red.

'Sure,' said Ron.

'Do you mind, Harry?' Ginny asked.

'No,' said Harry. 'Not a bit.'

Ron watched them for a moment, convinced more than ever that something was going on. But what, he couldn't say.

'I wonder what Dumbledore wants,' Neville mused.

'Maybe he'll explain why he hired that...that woman,' said Hermione.

'What's so bad about her?' Ginny asked.

'She's just freaky,' said Neville. 'She...she walks by and it gets all cold, and then it gets...hot.'

'I noticed that last night,' said Ginny. 'That is weird.'

'Yeah,' said Harry uncomfortably, and he shifted in his seat. 'What is that, anyway? Some kind of wandless magic?'

He looked at Ginny and he blushed again, and so did she, and she shrugged.

'Maybe,' Hermione mused, but her expression changed. Ron recognized it at once: she had an idea.

'What?' he asked.

She looked at her watch. 'I've got a half hour before Ancient Runes. I'm going to the library. I just thought of something. See you both in Transfiguration.'

She gave Ron a swift peck on the cheek and gathered up her books and was out of the Great Hall in a flash.

'One of these days I'm going to do a Total Body Bind on her so she can't do that anymore,' said Ron.

'Do what?' said Ginny absently.

'Come up with a brilliant idea and then leave before sharing it with us,' said Harry.

'Oh,' said Ginny, and she blushed again and looked down at her sandwich, but she wasn't eating it. Harry, too, looked very uncomfortable for some reason.

Ron groaned inwardly. Now he was positive there was something going on between the two of them, but based on the way they were acting, it didn't look good.

He felt himself sigh and turned his attention to his lunch, but he suddenly wasn't very hungry. His good mood had vanished, and it was only lunch time. And it was all the fault of that damn Professor Hopkirk.

And somehow, Ron didn't think the day was going to get much better.

He wouldn't know, until that evening, how right he was.