The Seventh Year Itch

The next morning broke sunny and cleansed after the night rains, and Hermione had almost forgotten about the incident the previous night as she skipped down the steps to McGonagall's office to retrieve Gryffindor's timetables. Almost. Her Head Girl duty sense took over most of her mind, but a vague feeling of anxiety still nagged at her. As she passed out the lists of classes amongst her younger housemates, their excited chatter about the holidays made her believe it was the recently-constant ache of knowing that her time here was nearly over, but when Ron sauntered in, looking unkempt and bleary-eyed, with his shirt's buttons unevenly fastened and his red hair refusing to behave, she rethought it. Shortly after, however, as Harry followed looking even more sleepless, she knew the largest source of her discomfort. And either Neville's notorious snoring had been particularly noisy the previous night, or the two boys felt similarly uncomfortable.

"Good morning, you two," she said breezily, passing each of them their papers, and they both looked back nonplussed. Alright, maybe it had sounded a bit too breezy, but far be it from her to be the one responsible for sinking the mood even further.

Harry averted his eyes quickly but Ron's gaze lingered, and he raised a questioning eyebrow. She feigned innocence and raised both eyebrows back at him.

"I still have Ginny to collect her timetable, but she said she's skipping breakfast for a bit of a lie-in," Hermione announced, checking her remaining two sheets. "Apparently she was up late last night. . .and then Christopher Orbtrott's missing his too, but I also recall how he slept through last term's first breakfast as well, so I think I'll just have a quick bite before running back up to the tower to make sure they’re up."

"Yeah, come on, let's eat," Ron exclaimed as he ungracefully tucked his long limbs under the table. "I'm right starving. How can Ginny miss out on this? Most important meal of the day. Not that any of them are unimportant. . ." He reached across Hermione to grab a large roll on her other side, and it was such a typical scenario as they loaded their plates from the full breakfast that Hermione could have kissed him.

Though she was still compulsively drawn to stare at Harry's fringe, things seemed to lighten up a little, helped even more when Seamus stopped by to boisterously boast about his expedition tracking magical Nordic Capybaras whilst on his trip to Iceland--at first. That was before he got to a point in his story that erased any progress.

"Yeah, apparently the nonmagical ones down in the southern hemisphere are really pretty docile but you can't say the same about that Nordic variety, man. Those claws had some kind of venom I think, because the wounds took ages to heal properly--check out these scars, huh?" He pulled up his sleeve to show some impressive zigzag marks, and grinned proudly. "Giving you a run for your galleons, eh, Harry?" he said with a laugh.

Hermione immediately felt a shift in the atmosphere but Seamus ploughed on, oblivious. "Hey, this one kind of looks like yours. Course, yours is a little bit wickeder, but not by that much, wouldn't you say?"

"Erm, yeah definitely Seamus. Er, those are a, ah, badge of courage there." Seamus hadn't heard it, but Hermione had, and she bet that Ron had as well. There was bitterness in that voice.

"Yeah well," Seamus replied with carefree capriciousness, "Sorry Ron and Hermione. You two are definitely brilliant, proven so time and time again, but only the chosen few get to wear these marks of bravery, right Harry?" He clapped Harry once on the back with another laugh, and took off to share the story with a group of fifth year girls down the table.

With one look at Harry, Hermione immediately read his mind, and she didn't need Sybil Trelawney's ridiculous class to do it, either. Though Seamus' remarks were at the height of flippancy, she knew that all Harry heard was the implication that the scars signified courage and since his scar had faded, he wasn't courageous. But honestly! Did he think it through enough to then conclude that she and Ron weren't, despite their lack of (physical) scars? Or conversely, that Wormtail was courageous because he had been scarred, worse, mutilated, by Voldemort?

Of course he hadn't, of this she was also sure, and she could not believe how ludicrous it was. She looked over at Ron and found that he was waiting to exchange a significant look with her, which she replied with a widening of eyes.

"So, erm, how do your schedules look?" she asked, using the same bright tones as before, and earning the same looks in turn. She slumped a little and stared down at her own. "Mine's all right. . ."

"No, mine's good too," Ron said, with an encouraging smile, and Hermione smiled back at him a bit gratefully. "Have we any of the same classes?"

"Oh I'm sure. Harry?"

He blinked then looked down. "Yeah. . .first lesson today is. . .Transfiguration."

"Me as well," Ron nodded, and they both looked at Hermione, who nodded.

"Wonderful, we're to do all that thinking right after breakfast, including on Mondays, in the morning, no less," Ron moaned, jabbing at his bangers with a fork. "And at NEWT level, too!"

"Oh quit it," Hermione told him, grabbing away his plate, and getting the first smile of the day (faint as it was) from Harry. "At least you didn't have Arithmancy as a first lesson like I did last term. This is a welcome break, trust me."

"You're too right I didn't, because I know my limits and would never ever take Arithmancy! Ever think that taking Transfiguration in the morning for me is what Arithmancy was for you?"

"An analogy, Ron, I'm impressed," Harry inserted teasingly from the other side of the table, apparently unable to resist the chance, despite his mood.

"Harry!" Ron said. "A nice time for you to join the conversation, thanks mate."

"Even so," Hermione took this chance to put in.

"Well," Ron shrugged. "I've said it before and I'll say it again, we can't all be as clever as Miss Hermione Granger."

Hermione could feel it coming on as soon as he turned that playful-but-teasing expression to her: the dreaded blush. Why oh why couldn't she just ignore it and control her complexion? She could feel the heat blooming in her cheeks, and spreading down her throat, and there really wasn't anything she could possibly do to stop it. And Ron knew it, which made it all a thousand times worse. In fact, she swore that he could control it using much of the same skills he had for making others laugh; it was a talent of words and timing.

"See?" he crowed, claiming his victory. "That proves you know I'm right, so end of story." He grabbed back his plate of bangers and popped one into his mouth triumphantly.

"Class?" Harry asked, and Hermione realised that for a few seconds she had actually forgotten about him.

She flushed slightly again, this time out of guilt, and gathered her things. "I'm going to run up now and make sure Ginny’s up and that poor second year isn't late for his first class and makes a bad first impression. It's Professor Ahmniss and she can be a bit, well, like her name. I'll see you two in the classroom in a few minutes."

She tucked in her chair and shouldered her bag, then turned briskly down the hall, but before she reached the door she heard someone bellowing her name, and she turned to see Ron jogging towards her.

"What Ron? I'm in a hurry."

"I know, but if you're going up to the tower now . . ."

"Erm, I think she'll understand if I'm slightly late," Hermione answered, a bit peevishly. "Since I'm Head Girl I have responsibilities. . .and particularly because we're Gryffindors, plus she remembers quite well that this happened with Chris at the beginning of the year."

Ron looked at her curiously, then shook his head and started again. "As I was saying, if you're going all the way up to the tower, why don't we just go up with you? That way when Harry and I pick up our books you can just give us yours as well before you search out Ginny and the Orbtrott kid. That way you don't have to drag them around with you, you know? I mean, we're going to the same class. . ."

"Oh. Oh. . .!" Hermione felt the threat of the blush again and quickly handed over the rucksack. "Er, thank you Ron, that's really thoughtful."

Well, maybe she had the ability give him a dose of his own medicine, she noticed, as his flush raised up along the edges of his ears. She felt a bit satisfied by that, and smiling to herself she turned and jogged up the stairs, leaving Ron and Harry at the bottom.

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

The day went by rather quickly and by their last class, Advanced Spells and Incantations, which Hermione had with Harry, she noticed that that he seemed much more studious than usual. She wondered if he was acting so as an excuse not to have to talk to her and Ron, or if he actually always was capable of being a good student but had always had Voldemort as a constant distraction. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, until she noticed that he wasn't actually writing class notes, but a note of a different variety. Feeling particularly nosy she nudged her quill off the desk and as she leaned forward to pick it up, she focused on the top of his parchment. Just before he put his quill down over it protectively she caught the words, "Hiya Ginny."

She sat up immediately, and Harry looked back over his shoulder, defensive. She returned a blank look, but her mind was running. Writing to Ginny? Was he confiding in her instead? She felt a burst of jealousy--Harry was Ron’s and her friend--but then thought it over more.

This did answer several questions. First of all, it made sense that Harry would talk to her instead of his two best friends. Maybe he felt as if he'd put them through enough, and as Ginny had once pointed out, only she could understand what it felt like to have that evil thing's voice in her mind. Plus, it was obvious to her that they shared more than just that common understanding. . .like a mutual attraction. Maybe Hermione had practically zero experience in the subject, but somehow she was an expert in judging others' love lives. Rather sad actually, when she thought about it.

Professor Flitwick finally ended the class and Hermione clutched her books together and stuffed them into her overflowing bag. She didn't even notice Harry standing at her elbow until she nearly knocked him over when wheeling around.

All he said was, "Don't tell Ron, okay?"

"Tell him what?" Hermione asked. That he'd been writing Ginny a note? So what? Ron would probably be relieved to hear about any extenuating circumstances.

"Exactly," Harry said, smiling the fullest one she'd seen since the previous night.

Oh, of course, she realized. He was worried that Ron might come to the same conclusion that she had. Well luckily for Harry, Ron's subtlety in such things didn't really match Hermione's. She knew this from experience.

"See you at dinner?" Harry waved, as he went to most likely seek out Ginny.

Hermione stared at his back for the few seconds she could before he melted into the crowded halls.

"He can be a bit hard to be friends with, can't he?" someone voiced her thought aloud next to her. She jumped before noticing Ginny standing next to her.

"Have you seen Harry?" she continued. "I was supposed to meet him after his class."

Hermione cocked her head, confused. "I thought you were just talking about him. . .he went that way," she pointed off to the left.

Ginny opened her mouth, then chuckled. "I assumed you were thinking about my brother. You had that look."

Wonderful. She had a look.

Ginny laughed again at Hermione’s expression. "No, not that look, though it's familiar, too." She shook her head. "Never mind, I'll see you at dinner. I've got to catch up with him." Before Hermione could stop her and question her about how she interpreted his recent behaviour, let alone what did she think of the scar, (alright, and that 'look' comment) she had slipped through the thinning group of students with a flash of red hair.

Sighing, Hermione hoisted her bag onto her shoulders and walked to the other end of the sprawling and ever-changing building.

"Cheer up luv!" one portrait of a buxom maid called out as she passed. "It might never happen!"

When she reached the portrait doorway of the Gryffindor Common Room, she was in the mood for curling up by the fire with a good book, but Ron had other ideas. Apparently he had been lying in wait for her to get back from lessons, and as soon as she came in he came to her side and guided her over to their table.

"I need a word."

"Ron, what. . .?"

"No offense Hermione, but just be quiet for a second. Here, sit down." He gestured to her usual chair. "It's important," he added.

She sat, partly because she was surprised at seeing Ron so insistent, and partly because she really was curious about what he had to say.

"If this is about Ginny, I already. . ."

"Ginny? No. This is about. . ." He stopped. "Wait, what about Ginny?"

"Oh, nothing. So, go on."

"I knew there was something weird going on when she didn't come for breakfast. Was she with some bloke last night?"

Actually Hermione hadn't considered that possiblity, but she kept her gaze neutral. "I don't know about that, I don't think she's dating anyone right now."

Ron scrutinized her shortly, but then shook his head. "Anyway, never mind about her. I have to tell you what just happened. I was in Care of Magical Creatures with some of the Slytherins and I overheard then all talking amongst themselves. Well, I recognised the tone they were using, you know the one? Like they're up to something. So I started listening in."

Hermione had moved to the edge of her seat. "And?" she prompted.

"And so they were talking and I heard them mention Harry, and someone said, 'we've got to do something while we still can,' and then someone else said, ‘it’s seventh year, so we only have a few more months to do something,' and the strange thing Hermione, is that I think they knew I was listening. And they didn't care because maybe they thought it would intimidate me. But it's also a bit scary, because after all this, they're still as bloody arrogant as ever."

"Or it was just a show," Hermione mused, "for your benefit."

Ron shook his head. "No I really don't think so. Most of them seemed really angry, really bent on whatever it was they were talking about. And I overheard them mentioning something about a rose, something about a rose? I think. . .like they actually had something in mind. And that's all I really heard. Not much I know, but enough to know that those tossers are up to something."

"It seems so," Hermione nodded, tapping her chin thoughtfully. Then, "A rose? What kind of rose?"

"I don't know. You know, even with You Know Who gone they just can't get over it! What do they think, that they can finish the job that, you know, he started?"

"First of all Ron," Hermione observed wryly, "You're still not even saying his actual name, so you haven't gotten over it yourself. Oh don't look so sour, none of us has. And especially not a lot of the Slytherins. I mean, think about it. Their fathers' characters have been exposed and they're locked away in Azkaban. You wouldn't want to get over it either."

He looked at her accusatorially.

"It's not like I'm justifying it," Hermione went on. "Obviously. As if your dad would ever be like that. . .Mr. Ministry of Magic! I'm just saying that they're not pleased with the outcome. And on top of it all they have to act as if they were nothing like their parents, which must feel like complete betrayals. Again, not that I condone, I'm just imagining what they're feeling."

"Yeah well. I was hoping that when this was all over we could go back to normal, and not have to constantly watch our backs with those bloody Slytherins.

Hermione chuckled mirthlessly. "I was thinking that things would maybe go back to normal too, but now I realise something. I had a different view of what normal' would be, but actually, the Slytherins are trying to get some sort of revenge they believe we deserve... Face it Ron, this is back to normal."

He shrugged, admitting in his way that she had a point, but looked crestfallen. "So...but what do you reckon we do?"

Hermione drew her legs up under her and thought about it. After all these years, they were still talking about the Slytherins, but as long as it only remained an inter-house rivalry, she felt that it the three of them could easily handle it. As strange as it sounded in terms of someone plotting against you, it was a bit comforting.

Nevertheless, she wondered aloud, "Do you think they will really dare go after the Head Girl?"

Ron just snorted in response and Hermione giggled with him. "You're right," she admitted, realising that their roles had temporarily reversed. He was the one who usually blurted something out, then amended at her look.

"Their dads and in some cases, mums, had no problem going against Dumbledore and the rest of the Order, and that's one hell of an example for them," he went on thoughtfully.

"True," Hermione agreed, giving Ron an appraising look. He was sitting at the table, both palms flat on its surface and looking contemplative, and she felt a surge of some ambiguous type of emotion for him. "Well what do you think we should do?" she asked softly.

He looked up as if surprised she would ask him his opinion, then shrugged slowly. Then, "I wish Harry were here too. Do you know where he is anyway?"

Why no, not exactly, but wherever it was, Ginny was likely there too. "Er, no, he disappeared after the last lessons." The remark also slightly rebuffed her; she wasn’t missing Harry too much in the moment.

Ron sighed heavily. "He's a touch difficult to be friends with sometimes, don't you think Hermione?"

She recalled her exchange with Ginny a few minutes before and raised an eyebrow. "It hasn't been easy, no, but I'm sure we're all a bit hard to get along with now and then, being so close. . ."

Ron started to nod, but then shook his head and redeemed himself: "I don't think you're that hard to be friends with," he said, looking up at her with no trace of sarcasm in his eyes, and for a brief moment she was touched speechless, before gathering her wits.

"Please. Don't be absurd,” she said haltingly. “We never agree on anything. Is that fun?"

"I mean," he said, quickly dodging the question and his ears colouring, "that you're not moody--oh wait, no, never mind about that--"

"Hey!" she crossed her arms and pouted, but secretly she was pleased.

He chuckled but his voice cracked and he abruptly cleared his throat. "Alright. . .that you're just always predictable--"

"Okay, you're really not doing well here."

The cheeks were flushing now, and Hermione felt excited as she looked at him with expectation. Putting him on the spot was strangely satisfying.

"You're dependable, and you don't just take out things on me that I don't deserve--oh wait, I misspoke again--OI!"

Hermione had heaved a pillow embroidered with a rearing lion straight into his face.

"Hey, maybe I'm realising you have more traits in common with Harry that I thought."

"So it is hard to be friends with me?" She almost wanted him to say yes, for some reason, but he didn't reply to her directly.

"Hermione? To answer your other question, yeah. It is fun."

Hermione suddenly felt the chair under her more keenly, and her vision seemed hyper-clear, and was she imagining it or was there a hum in her ears? But before she could digest what she was feeling, or stammer out some random reply, he was already off and running on some other tangent.

"I don't know if Harry would even know what to do, though. He's been so weird lately, don't you think?"

"I've only been here for one day Ron, I really don't know," Hermione managed.

"He's acting so differently than he did at home. It's seriously strange. Last night when I went up to our room he had the curtains shut around his bed and he wouldn't answer me when I tried to talk to him, but today he seems a little better, I don't know.” Ron traced the edge of the pillow with one finger, and Hermione followed with her eyes. “It's just, over the holidays he was really okay. I didn't know about his scar at the time but looking back I'd say he seemed relieved it was gone. But now that we're back in school. . ."

"Maybe he's being reminded of everything he is expected to be again,” Hermione suggested, blinking. “You know, with you and your family he's just Harry. But here. . .it's different. Also, the Burrow is so enclosed and personal. Now he's out in the world and he has to face that public persona again."

"Blimey, Hermione," Ron said, gaping at her. "You're good at this stuff. First with the Slytherins, now with Harry. . ."

Hermione beamed; the pride she usually felt when praised always doubled when it came from Ron. She often thought that after herself, he could be her toughest critic. "My mum says that if I had been a Muggle, or had I even decided to stay in the nonmagical world, I would have probably been a psychologist."

"A psycho-what-gist?"

At one time Hermione might have come with some sarcastic rebuttle, but she really wanted to move beyond that pattern with Ron, and so she replied to his question with no derision. "Muggles have people who study others' behaviours and thoughts and can help them adjust to their problems and lead more content lives."

Ron looked confused. "And that's not magic? Like divination? Sounds like mind-reading."

Hermione smiled. His confusion reminded her of the Muggle Studies class she’d once taken, and how fascinated witches and wizards (especially Ron’s own dad) were with the way Muggles managed without magic. "A different kind, I suppose."

"Well that's just we need isn't it?" Ron said, sitting straight up and looking animated. "For Harry and the Slytherins both. If we could guess what they're going to do. . .and solve Harry's problems. . ."

Hermione slumped back into her chair with a sigh. If only it were that easy, she thought, and she hated hurting Ron’s hope. "It takes years of study. I'm just making observations here. I'm not an actual one."

"But how are we going to fix his problems, then?" he asked disappointedly.

"I don't think we are, Ron," Hermione shook her head, thinking of the note she'd seen in her past class.

"We're not--what. . .?" Ron looked up at her in disbelief, and Hermione tried to think of a way to frame her thoughts without diverting the focus to the subject of Harry and Ginny.

"I think we've got to accept that as a part of growing up, we need to let Harry take responsibility," she said slowly, gauging his reaction carefully. "He's old enough, and he can do it. And hopefully we're mature enough to accept that."

"So we should just abandon him then," Ron replied flatly. "Well I don't know about you Hermione but I actually care when there's something wrong--!"

"Oh don't be so thick." Hermione rolled her eyes, and impatiently pushed past Ron’s potential instigation. "Of course I care! In fact that's why I think it's best that we let him come to terms with it on his own. We'll be there for him of course, but we won't interfere, as much as we may want to. Trust me, okay?"

Ron chewed on his lip, his raised eyebrows regarding her doubtfully for a long moment, but he finally shrugged his consent. "You're the Psycho Gist. I just hope that he doesn't take it out on us Harry-style while we do wait for him to 'come to terms'."

Hermione pushed a hand through her thick hair, once again ignoring his continued mispronunciation of the word. "It's like I said for the Slytherins," she answered. "For all of us. We can't just get over it. For Harry of course this is even more valid. If we're his friends, we'll wait as long as it takes."

Ron nodded reluctantly at her words, but she couldn't help but agree, in turn, with his statement. If Harry decided to take this out on them, she didn't know if she could resist taking some of the reins from Ginny in the matter.