Lesson Plans

Hermione watched the tiny enchanted otter romp amongst the hills and valleys created by the folds of her bedcovers as they lay draped across her legs, idly chewing on a braid. Though she'd never truly believed the figurine had been a gift from Ron -- it was far too extravagant and costly -- part of her had secretly hoped it'd been so. Recent events, however, had led her suspicions down a different path.

Goyle's apparent fancy for her was a complication she hadn't anticipated. She wasn't even positive it was there, but Draco's accusation and the look on Goyle's face when she fled for the castle gave her good cause to believe his feelings for her had gone beyond mere appreciation and gratitude. It brought back memories of her fourth year, when she'd deduced that her frequent run-ins with Viktor Krum in the library weren't all happenstance. Once she'd realized what he was up to she'd encouraged his attention, though she later felt badly for leading him along, knowing she didn't -- couldn't -- quite return his affection. Still and all, though, they'd parted on good terms and she counted Viktor as a good, dear friend.

Goyle though.... Hermione sighed. Goyle was an different matter entirely. She liked him well enough, but encouraging him would be a catastrophic mistake.

There was a quiet knock at the door. Lavender and Parvati were already both sound asleep, the curtains drawn around their beds, so Hermione flicked her wand at the door to open it.

Ginny's tousled head appeared in the opened doorway, followed by the rest of her, clad in pajamas and a well-worn dressing gown. "All right there, Hermione?" she asked.

"All right. You?"

"Can't complain. May I come in?"

Hermione patted the bedcovers. "Hop on." She gently scooped up the otter as Ginny shut the door and hurried over to climb up beside her. Carefully balanced in the palm of her hand, the figurine sat back on its haunches and studied Hermione, its little whiskers quivering.

"Oh, how darling!" Ginny exclaimed quietly. "Is that the one you saw in Hogsmeade?"

"Mm-hm."

"I thought you'd decided not to get it."

"I did."

"Then... Oh!" Hermione looked up to see Ginny's eyes grow wide and a smile creep across her face. "From your secret admirer?"

Hermione sighed and tipped her hand so the otter could return to its cozy velvet-lined home. "Not so secret anymore, I'm afraid."

Ginny tilted her head to one side and studied Hermione. Hermione suspected her whiskers would've been twitching too, if she'd had them. "You sound disappointed."

She sighed again. "Not disappointed, exactly, just... I don't know, unprepared."

"Does this have anything to do with what happened out by the pitch tonight?" Hermione nodded without looking her in the face. "I see." Ginny took a deep breath. "You don't fancy him, do you?"

"Oh, no!" Hermione said. "That's not it at all."

"Then what is 'it'?" Ginny asked.

Hermione sat back against her pillows and hugged her knees to her chest. "I don't want to hurt him." Ginny raised an eyebrow. "He's very sensitive, Ginny. And...."

"And?"

"And I think, if I play my cards right, I can --"

"Save him?"

Hermione shrugged. "I reckon that's as good a way as any to put it."

"Does he want to be saved?"

"I think so, yeah. Or, rather, I think he doesn't want to be Malfoy's pet bully anymore."

"D'you reckon he wants that for himself, or because he fancies you and reckons that's the best way to win you over?"

Hermione made a face at Ginny. "You're not making this any easier, you know." She pressed her brow against her knees and groaned. "I really, really don't want to bungle this. He's come so far. I don't want to encourage him to fancy me, but I'm afraid if I hurt him I'll just send him straight back into Malfoy's arms."

"Ew," Ginny said. "That's an image I could have gone to my grave without."

Hermione looked up to see Ginny screw up her face in mock disgust and shook her head. "What do I do, Ginny?"

She snorted. "You're asking me for advice? Blimey, you are desperate." She reached over to rest her hand on Hermione's arm. "Just... be yourself. Be honest. Tell him the truth, that you don't fancy him, but that you still want to...." Her brow wrinkled as she gave Hermione a puzzled look. "Just what were you doing with him anyway?"

"I was tutoring him, that's all."

"Wow," Ginny said, whistling under her breath. "That must've been a challenge."

"It was," Hermione said with a smile. "But a good one. I'd like to resume, if he'd just let me." She loosened her grip around her legs to sit cross-legged. "He stopped coming after I was hurt."

"You mean after he let his friends attack you."

"He feels terrible about that."

"Does he now? He couldn't be arsed to prevent it."

"It's not that simple, Ginny. He was in an impossible position."

Ginny flopped back against the mattress and propped her head up on one hand. "Why do you care so much?"

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm. "Because no one else does, I reckon."

* * * * *

The bell indicating the end of the lesson heralded a flurry of noise and activity. Hermione was aware of students gathering their belongings and departing for lunch, she even exchanged a few words with Daphne Greengrass and Anthony Goldstein about an Advanced Potions study session planned for that night, but her thoughts were far away from her present time and place. She'd hardly slept at all after her talk with Ginny night before last; all day yesterday Harry and Ron had more or less ignored her and then this morning had taken seats on the far side of the Transfiguration classroom. She should've seen it coming; though Ron was more inclined to be vocal with his disapproval whenever he thought she'd erred, Harry tended to prefer the silent treatment, and where Harry led, Ron was likely to follow. It was what made Ron such a loyal friend to Harry, and such a thorn in Hermione's side. She couldn't make Ron see reason if he wouldn't even acknowledge her existence.

She blew out sharply through her mouth, sending a few errant hairs flying away from her face, and began rolling up her scrolls of parchment and stuffing them in her satchel. She was so intent on packing her bag she didn't even realize Professor McGonagall had been calling her name until she looked up from her desk and saw the professor standing before her, a worried expression tightening the lines around her mouth.

"Miss Granger, are you unwell? I've been trying to get your attention ever since the bell rang."

Hermione briefly considered claiming illness so she could be excused from her afternoon lessons and spend the rest of the day hiding in her room, then thought better of it. If Ron and Harry wanted to behave like prats, that was their problem; she was above letting such playpark tactics get to her. "I'm fine, Professor," she said. "Just distracted."

"I see," Professor McGonagall said. She pulled a chair away from the desk in front of Hermione's and turned it around so she could sit in it and face Hermione. "You've been distracted ever since you emerged from the Gryffindor common room this morning. That's unusual for you."

"I reckon so," Hermione said with a shrug. She paused, waiting for McGonagall to dismiss her.

"Does your state of preoccupation have anything to do with Mr. Goyle?"

Hermione dropped the strap to her satchel, letting it fall against her chair with a slapping sound. "Gregory? Why do you ask?"

"He came to see me late last night," she said. "He was in quite a state." Unsure what was expected of her, Hermione merely waited to hear what else McGonagall had to say. "He confessed to his involvement in the vicious attacks against other students this term."

Hermione had to grab hold of the edge of the desk to maintain her balance. "H-He did?"

McGonagall studied Hermione over the rims of her glasses. "You didn't put him up to it?"

"No!" she exclaimed. She shoved her bag to the floor and lowered herself clumsily into the seat. "He knew I'd guessed he was involved, but I never... I never told him to turn himself in."

"Why not, Miss Granger?"

She opened and closed her mouth, momentarily at a loss for words. "Well... I don't think it occurred to me to do so. I just wanted him to believe that he wasn't obligated to go along with everything Draco tells him to do." She raked her fingers through her hair. "He's really a very decent boy, Professor, once you get to know him."

A shadow of a smile flitted across McGonagall's face. "Is that so?"

"He's worked hard to bring his marks up this term."

"I know he has, and he has you to thank for that."

Hermione gave her a tentative smile. "I reckon he has you to thank, too, since you sent him to me in the first place." Then her smile faded. "What's to happen to him now that he's confessed? I don't suppose a week's detention will do?"

"I'm afraid not, Miss Granger. Mr. Goyle is to be expelled from Hogwarts."

"No!" She almost jumped to her feet, but caught herself just in time. Even so, she couldn't avoid leaning forward on the edge of her seat. "You can't do that, Professor. It'll ruin him."

"Ruin him?" McGonagall's eyebrows knit into a thin, severe line. "He was responsible for inflicting serious harm against several of his fellow students, including, might I remind you, yourself."

Hermione shook her head firmly. "He didn't attack me. He took me to the infirmary."

"But he was involved with, and aware of, the plan to ambush you that night." When Hermione shook her head again she continued, "He told me so himself."

"He didn't mean to," she insisted. "He didn't have any choice. He told me his family owes a life debt to the Malfoys."

McGonagall leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. "Just a few minutes ago you told me you were trying to convince him he didn't have to do Mr. Malfoy's bidding."

"You don't understand," Hermione said, clutching at straws. "That was after the attack, but before I knew about the nature of his relationship with Draco."

"You're right, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, "I don't understand. Please enlighten me."

"Professor, you've often said that it's our choices that define who we are, not our family backgrounds. But sometimes the families we're born into make it easier for us to make the right choices. I believe that Gregory is on the edge of going one way or the other. I believe that he wants to turn away from the reputation he has, but he's afraid to because of his family's life debt to the Malfoys. That's why he confessed to the attacks, don't you see?" McGonagall shook her head, but motioned for Hermione to continue. "It's proof that he sincerely wants to change. Expelling him from Hogwarts could drive him back the other way, to a life of making the wrong choices for the wrong reasons. I can't let that happen."

"You can't?"

Hermione shook her head. "I won't. I may be his last chance at... at redemption." She leaned forward, willing McGonagall to see reason. "If you force him to leave Hogwarts, he'll have nowhere to turn. He'll think his only choice lies with Voldemort. I couldn't bear it if that happened."

"I see." McGonagall exhaled slowly through her nose, then regarded Hermione with fondness. "I wonder if Mr. Goyle has any idea he has such a passionate advocate in his corner."

"I'm not an advocate," Hermione said. "I'm merely his friend."

"There's nothing 'merely' about your defense of him, Miss Granger," McGonagall said as she rose stiffly. "Please understand that I cannot let Mr. Goyle go with a slap on the wrist. His treatment of his fellow students, and his admission of guilt, require severe punishment. However," she added, raising her hand when Hermione opend her mouth to protest, "I will speak to Professor Dumbledore about what you have told me here. Perhaps we can work out a punishment that will be suitable to all interested parties. A suspension for the remainder of this term might be appropriate."

Hermione beamed up at her. "I think that's fair, Professor. Thank you." Her smile faded. "What of --?"

"His accomplices?" Hermione nodded. "Sadly, my hands are tied where they are concerned. Though I am certain of their involvement I cannot discipline them without firm evidence or an admission."

"That's not likely to happen anytime soon."

"Not in this lifetime or the next, I imagine," McGonagall said with a sigh. "Very well, then, I will speak to the headmaster about this presently. You'd best get some lunch before the bell rings for afternoon lessons."

Hermione gathered her things and followed McGonagall to the door of the classroom. Just before they stepped out into the corridor she said, "Thank you again, Professor."

McGonagall turned to lay her hand on Hermione's shoulder. "No, thank you, Miss Granger, for seeing the potential in him. We should all be so fortunate as to have you for a friend."