The Seventh Year Itch

Hermione jumped down neatly from the carriage and gathered her cloaks around her against the cold, unconsciously smoothing over every crease. She watched as a highly-resentful Filch retrieved her trunk, then checking that her Head Girl pin was still on straight she waited as the other carriages pulled up in a long procession to the giant oak door of Hogwarts.

"I trust you had an enjoyable holiday Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall asked as she swept up next to Hermione in preparation to let the students enter.

"It was very nice seeing my family again, Professor, but it's still wonderful to be back." She had meant to ask her teacher how her holiday had been, but didn't get the chance.

"Ah yes, returning for your final term," the older woman commented as she watched the students disembark and jump down into the snow. "It's difficult to believe that nearly seven years have passed, and that so many things have come to pass, for good or for ill—mostly for the greater good however, thankfully. . ." She briefly turned to Hermione. "I've felt very privileged to watch you in your—" At this she abruptly broke off with a sharp sigh and stalked down to a carriage where a pair of third years had decided to conduct a snow fight from opposite sides of a coach through its opened doors; nevertheless Hermione felt a proud blush bloom on her cheeks, and she felt her admiration for the professor grow even more, if possible.

Once the returning students had all gotten out of the thestral-led vessels and gathered in a giddy, shoving, shivering queue along the castle, she and Ernie split up, and she jogged to its end, giving overexcited students stern looks on her way. She couldn't help but share in their enthusiasm, however, and craned her neck over their snow-specked heads for a flash of ginger or unruly black hair. Instead she saw the widening beam of yellow candlelight slicing through the dim wintry dusk and illuminating the lightly-falling flakes as the professors drew open the expansive entrance. Immediately students surged forward amidst a clamor of trunks clanging into each other, laughter, croaking, meowing, and hooting. She felt her heart immediately rise. It was wonderful to be back.

Soon she was swallowed by the great door and she looked around to see that despite how long it felt since she'd been gone, everything looked the same as it had when she had left for home. She realised with a start that that would also be the case after she and her years left Hogwarts that June. To them it would seem like it should just stop in their absence, but in fact it would go on as it always had. This was somewhat startling to grasp, but quite comforting as well, especially since there had been no such guarantee in years previous.

An hour later she was wrapping up her Head Girl obligations and making sure that various passwords were functioning, but she still had not seen Ron or Harry. Trying to pretend that she wasn't a bit huffy that they hadn't sought her out right away, she asked all the Gryffindors whom she encountered if they had seen them, and many had. Apparently Ron had finished his prefect duties already, so why hadn't they come to find her? Hadn't they missed her like she missed them? Or were they too preoccupied with their brilliant holiday to care?

Now finished with her responsibilities, she climbed the staircase with a frown. Well she, for one, was ecstatic to be back and even if they were acting like idiot boys and leaving her out (she muttered the password, "Hungry Hippogriffs") she would not let it ruin her mood—

As soon as the portrait of the fat lady swung out to reveal the interior of the Common Room, however, she stopped dead in her tracks and her jaw fell open. In the corner of the room which the trio had made their own, Ron and Harry had set up a Christmas tree with hundreds of glass baubles with miniature three-dimensional images of Hogwarts hovering inside. All around them people were casting stares and questioning looks, but the two boys were engrossed with arranging three plates stacked with food next to the tree. Hermione was speechless for a moment, but Harry looked up and caught sight of her, and with a big grin he grabbed Ron's elbow. Ron looked up too, but after catching her eye he looked away, seeming fascinated with arranging the plates just so. Ignoring that, she rushed up to them and gave them each a big hug; Harry squeezed back but Ron's arm was rather limp and he gave her arm several awkward pats. Again Hermione intentionally ignored it, taking a closer look at the ornaments. Here was the portrayal of a long wide hall with suits of armor, and when she peered in for a closer look, she swore she heard the tinny sounds of Christmas carols. Here was another of the Great Hall with its ceiling enchanted to show falling flakes of white fluffy snow, and then one of Hagrid's cottage festooned in swags of wild holly. Excitedly she peered from ball to ball until finally she remembered Ron and Harry standing behind her expectantly. She whirled around with a huge smile.

"This is brilliant!" she breathed, and squeezed both their arms warmly. "Where did you get the tree?"

Her two friends exchanged grins.

"We filched it from Filch," Ron stated, apparently deeply satisfied at this perceived one-up, but then paused to perhaps stem off a lecture from Hermione. "Well, I mean, he was going to toss it in the rubbish anyway so. . ."

"We decided that we needed it, basically," Harry added, and Hermione nodded, though she didn't actually understand.

"I love it, and it's wonderful, and the little scenes are really sweet, but. . .why did we need it?" She giggled.

Ron stared at her. "It was our last Christmas at Hogwarts!" he exclaimed obviously. "And we weren't even at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, we couldn't be together, so we decided to make our own Christmas," Harry added. "So we fleeced one of their old trees, made up some more of these decorations using Sentimenta Captiva, and got some house—er, got some food from the kitchen. Even if we weren't here on the 25th, we can still celebrate now. . ."

"Oh wow. . ." Hermione said softly, taking in the tree, and as comprehension dawned she felt her eyes mist over and her throat clench. "Harry, that's just so. . ."

"Actually," Harry interrupted, grinning cheekily, "It was Ron's idea, wasn't it Ron?"

For some reason Ron glared at Harry then looked at Hermione defiantly. "Yes well, in your letters you sounded like you wanted the three of us to be together for it but—well—anyway, Christmas is my favorite holiday so this is a way to get to celebrate it twice."

"Okay," Hermione said simply.

"And Ron thought you'd like his Sentimenta Captiva charm too," Harry said, apparently enjoying himself.

Ron shot him another look, "Well yeah. . .but actually I think they were probably good practice for our NEWTs—every little bit helps—don't you think Harry?"

"Oh are you already studying for them Ron?" Hermione asked brightly. "Well done, maybe I'm actually getting to you!" She laughed, but Ron seemed a little taken aback.

"Maybe you are," Harry chuckled.

"We have presents," Ron announced loudly, cutting Harry off and turning his back on both of them to delve under the tree.

He straightened with a bunch of hastily-wrapped gifts in his arms, and Harry and Hermione settled down in their usual chairs.

"Oh you two. . ." she protested, "I don't have anything, I thought we already owled each other Christmas presents."

"No worries!" Harry said. "This is compensation for you not getting to take apparating lessons with us."

Now a little grin appeared on Ron. "Yeah true, mate. Hermione, you don't even know what you're missing out on! It's like nothing else. I mean, first you're here, then you're there. Like, instantly! It's incredible. Shame you missed it. So since we knew that you were probably a bit hacked that you couldn't come too—er, not that you shouldn't see your mum and dad. . .anyway, we took pity."

"Thanks?" Hermione responded a bit dryly. "Here I thought it was about the 'Christmas spirit' and friendship but you just feel sorry for me?"

"Erm," Ron looked a bit disconcerted. "I was only joking. . ."

"You're going to have to get used to Ron being a git like that Hermione," Harry smirked. "I think he's crushed that he can't show off every ten seconds like Fred and George did back when they got theirs. . .not that he didn't back at the Burrow."

"Oi!" Ron protested. "When you two get your licenses you'll understand, all right?"

"All right, Ron," Harry and Hermione chorused, then exchanged looks and burst into laughter, while Ron looked away, indignant.

"Oh Ron, I'm sorry," Hermione said once she stopped. "Thank you for the presents. And thank you too, Harry. If I had known—"

"Then you would have gotten us the matching quills to our parchment set, cheers," Ron finished for her, visibly relaxing and settling into his chair.

He handed her one of the ill-wrapped gifts, and then a few to Harry, one of which Harry then added to Hermione's pile.

Both of them were rectangular and thick, and she couldn't help but smile. "Let me guess, some more books to add to my library?"

"You mean your bedroom?" Ron asked. "Honestly I wonder where you can even sleep with how many books you must have up there." Suddenly his ears coloured. "But no," he continued. "They're house elves. They actually come in little gift boxes."

Harry snickered but Hermione simply rolled her eyes and ripped off the paper to reveal, what else but, a book: a yellow and black one called Apparating for Muggles. She was distinctly reminded of the Muggle series of books about various topics which had the name of the subject followed by ". . . For Dummies," and she gave a little chuckle. In terms of apparating, it might very well be the same thing for her.

"Well Harry said that it's hard to grasp for people who have grown up in non-magic households," Ron explained, "so it's got all the magic-logic to it, the psychology, the arithmancy—I know you like that—"

"Ron, this is perfect," Hermione said sincerely, and his ears glowed even more brightly. "Yes, Harry was telling me it was challenging for Muggle-borns, and of course what better way to learn about it?"

She reached across the table to give him a quick hug but apparently he hadn't expected that; she caught him just as he was leaning forward to grab the discarded paper and they knocked foreheads.

"Bugger!" Ron exclaimed, his hand flying ot his head. "Hermione, are you all right? Sorry!"

Well, her head did ache a bit but as soon as she looked up into Ron's concerned face peering down at her that was the least of her concern. She had never been this close to his face and for some reason she felt a bit entranced, and also like everything was thrown into too-sharp focus.

"Er, she looks a bit off Ron, what did you do?" Hermione heard off to one side, and she flushed immediately and pulled back jerkily.

"I didn't—" Ron started defensively.

"No, I'm fine!" she interrupted, and it sounded a little shrill even to her ears. "Anyway I just wanted to thank you Ron, I'll definitely use it. And Harry. . ." She hastily turned her attention to his present, which turned out to be a book in possible careers for witches and wizards who had achieved a certain high amount of NEWTS.

"I know we haven't even sat them yet, but I'm not concerned," he laughed, but slowed down when he noticed Ron staring at him avidly.

"Can I help you with something Ron?"

Ron simply kept staring. "Harry mate, your scar. . ." He looked as dazed Hermione had just felt, and she followed his gaze to Harry's forehead, only to gasp.

"It's gone!"

Harry looked bored. "I was wondering when you'd notice. At least Hermione hasn't seen me for a while, Ron."

"Well your fringe covers—"
"How come you didn't tell us?!" Ron and Hermione erupted simultaneously, and they both looked at each other in shocked disbelief.

Harry's mood seemed to sour before their eyes. "I just woke up from, you know. . .and it was gone. I guess it left with him. It was his mark, and it faded just like all his other deliberate ones did on the leftover Death Eaters. I don't know, okay?"

"Okay Harry," Hermione answered with concern. "But. . .aren't you glad it's gone? Wasn't it a reminder of, you know, some pretty terrible things?"

Harry avoided his friends' eyes and took a long time to answer. "I don't know," he finally said. "I can't explain it but sometimes I miss it. Usually. . .usually I couldn't be happier about it. Like I've had a sort of operation remove some tumour—" Ron looked perplexed at that— "but at other times I feel like I—I lost part of my identity. Everyone knew me by my scar. Now I don't have it. On one hand it's good because I'm not tied to all that bollocks but on the other hand. . ." He sighed deeply and stared into the christmas tree. . ."Who am I now?"

Ron was staring at Harry open-mouthed at this sudden turn of events, but Hermione felt a rush of compassion and she grabbed his hand. "You're still the 'Boy Who Lived. . .you're the best seeker Gryffindor has ever had, and maybe even Hogwarts. . . !" She smiled encouragingly at Ron, who was looking at their hands wordlessly. "You're our best friend. . .Right Ron?"

Ron finally seemed to snap out of whatever funk he had been in, and nodded vehemently. "Of course, nothing would change that." Still, he looked confused, and Hermione could not say that she blamed him.

How could Harry just not mention something so significant? Had he set it up as some sort of test of their friendship to see how long it would take before they realised it had faded?

"Well. . .thanks," Harry said tersely, and Hermione squeezed his hand once more before letting go.

The little Christmas-in-January celebration didn't feel very festive after that though, as they all sat there rather awkwardly, and Ron and Hermione kept stealing disbelieving looks at Harry's forehead.

Finally Harry stood up and (rather obviously) feigned a yawn. "Look, I'm really tired so. . ."

Ron made to stand up as well but Harry waved him off, and when Ron gave a quizzical look to Hermione, she just shrugged.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk some more, Harry?" she asked gently, but Harry assumed a carefree expression.

"I've already made a massive issue out of it, so not really, no." He turned for the boys' staircase, but then turned back. "Look. . .maybe I should have told you, and I don't really know why I didn't but. . .maybe don't tell anyone?"

"Of course not," they both swore, and he nodded and started up for the stairs again.
"Oh." He pivoted around once more before disappearing. "Goodnight. . .and it's been really great to see you again Hermione."

"It's great to see you again too, Harry," she answered quietly.

"Blimey!" Ron muttered once Harry had gone, shaking his head and looking thunderstruck. "How could I not have noticed?"

"Don't blame yourself Ron, he obviously was hiding it on some level." Hermione threw up her hands. "After all he didn't even tell us!"

"Yeah that too. . . " Ron said, barely above a whisper.

"Hmm?" Hermione asked, staring into the fire.

"Nothing."

Hermione decided to let it go. "I mean, what is he so worried about? He'll lose his strength in magic?"

"Yeah maybe," Ron grunted and turned to her. "Are you worried about him?" he asked a little sharply, taking Hermione back. What sort of question was that, and why was he looking at her that way?

"Well I don't know, Ron, should I be?"

He shrugged and flicked something off the arm of his chair.

"Well?" she pressed. "Did he seem moody over holidays? Did he seem distracted?"

"No, he seemed really happy," Ron sighed. "He seemed like the old Harry, you know, the one before all this stuff happened. . ."

"But now?"

"I don't know, since he's been back he's seemed more nervous. I don't know why." He gave her another penetrating look. "Do you?"

"Look, I don't know why you're taking the attitude like I knew something and didn't tell you," Hermione said, turning and looking at Ron intently. "I'd tell you anything involving Harry, you know that. You'd be the first person I'd tell."

"Anything, really." He looked skeptical.

"Yes of course!" Hermione exclaimed. "Wouldn't you do the same for me Ron??"

"Yeah of course!" Ron fired back, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"So then—"

"But maybe I wouldn't be in the same type of position you'd be in. . ."

"Oh for goodness sake," Hermione rolled her eyes. Why on earth was he trying to instigate something? "What are you talking about? We're both his friends, what would he tell me and not you? If anyone were to be left out it would be me, since I don't dorm with you two, nor did I get to holiday at the Burrow." She stared at him expectantly. "Well?"

Ron just folded his arms and looked into the fire with a studied-blank expression. "Never mind."

"Fine!" Hermione huffed. "You know Ron, I thought that maybe when we were older we would grow out of this. I was really hoping we would."

"What, 'this'?" Ron shot back.

"You know what I'm talking about!"

He looked at her mutinously. "First of all, no I don't—"

"Then you're being deliberately thick—"

"And secondly. . .well excuse me for having eyes."

Hermione was reaching her limit of exasperation. "Excuse you for having eyes?!" she yelled in an incredulous whisper, as she didn't want to attract anymore attention from other Gryffindors than they'd already received. "What is that supposed to mean? Ron, have you completely lost it?"

Ron's scowl deepened.

"What is going on?" Hermione asked a little more softly. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

His fierce stare finally deflated. "It's just. . ." he exhaled. "If you and Harry get together, then—"

"What?" Hermione shrieked, forgetting about potential stares. "Me and Harry, are you joking?"

"Well he was always writing to you, and talking about you, and—"

"Oh Ron." Hermione had to suppress a grin. "You're so afraid of getting left out, aren't you?" She marveled at him and felt a burst of affection. It must be tough being the youngest of so many brothers. "But I'm one of Harry's best friends, so of course he'd write to me. What, do you want me to be left out even more than I was down in Richmond, not getting to take apparating lessons?"

"No. . ."

"I'm worried about Harry because he's one of my best friends in return. He's like my brother Ron, I'm sure you can understand that."

"Yeah," Ron answered, beginning to look contrite. Then, "So do you consider me like a brother then too Hermione?" He glanced across the table into her face just as he asked that, and the timing doubled Hermione's heart rate. Something about that eye contact right then felt dangerous, and it made her uncomfortable.

"Erm, sure Ron."

"Sure?" He looked dubious.

"Well, am I like a sister to you?" she asked, and pinned him with eye contact as well.

Interesting, she thought. When the tables had turned he seemed every bit as uncertain as she had.

"Well you're really different than Ginny. . .and she's the only sister I've got, so. . ."

"Well Harry's not like any brother you've got and yet you said that you know what I mean that he feels like one."

Ron looked speechless for a second then changed tack. "So there's nothing going on between you and Harry, then?"

"Nothing romantic, Ron, and I can't believe you'd even think that, honestly! Don't you know us at all?"

"Yes, but. . ."

"You're really seeing things." She scooted her chair closet to his and looked at him frankly, which seemed to spook him a bit. "It's like you're trying to create something nonexistent in order to fill the void of concern that has been left since Voldemort was killed. . .oh don't convulse like that Ron, he's dead. But anyway, we're all so used to being anxious about something that you're inventing something to be anxious about!

"I'm. . .whaa? That was some girl-speak if I ever heard it. Come again?"

Hermione smiled. "Basically, you're getting worked up that Harry and I are going to leave you out, but we're not, all right?"

"Erm, yeah, okay."

"So do you realise you were wrong about Harry and me?"

Ron looked pained, but he conceded his error.

"Okay then. I'm going to bed now. I suppose the term just couldn't start off without us getting into it Ron! I had hoped. . ." He looked up at her keenly but she trailed off. "But never mind, I'm glad that's settled. Although to think you even entertained it for one second. . . !" She giggled, and even if it was forced she felt like she'd pulled it off, and they bid one another goodnight.

How, how, could Ron be so dense? She and Harry together, was he mad? Or was he just jealous? And if he were jealous, she wondered as she climbed up the stairs towards her room, was he jealous because they were leaving him out, or for other reasons? Like maybe (just maybe) he was jealous of Harry? She flushed these thoughts from her mind as she usually did, willing herself to not obsess or overanalyze, because as she had learned from Gilderoy Lockhart in second year, no good came out of thinking too much about a member of the opposite sex. And she hadn't even known Professor Lockhart, not really. . .certainly not like she knew Ron.

She finally arrived in her private chambers and flopped across her bed diagonally. A moment later the door cracked ajar and Crookshanks leapt onto her blankets beside her.

"What a night," she sighed, pressing her nose into his fur and listening to him begin to purr. "Here I was operating under the misguided impression that things could return to their normal pattern." She sat back up and pulled off her robes, then looked back at her cat. "What I should have known is that there never was such thing as 'normal.' And if there were. . .this would be it: Ron's mood jumping all over the place and impossible to read, and Harry aloof. . ."

Crookshanks yawned and stretched, then curled up into a ball, and without one more thought, Hermione followed his example. If tonight were any example, it would be a long week.