Living Unity

Chapter 2: Walking to School

Hermione bent down to pick up a quill that had fallen out of her bag, looking around as she did so. As she extracted it from the dirt, she pulled out her wand, using a simple scourgification spell to restore its previous state of cleanliness.

Ahead of her was Hogsmeade Station, to where all the Hogwarts pupils arrived and from where they departed several times each year. Despite its location in a relatively simple village, the station had a glamour; a charm to it that was very becoming of the locale.

As she proceeded along the winding, rough dirt tracks, her black leather boots, made of dragon hide and designed for walking, made contact with the polished oak of the station's floor. As she passed by the platform, out of the corner of her eye she noticed a coat, apparently abandoned by its owner on one of the royal red benches. She wondered if she shouldn't hand it in to Hogwarts' lost property office. However, as she was about to go over to the coat, its eyes opened.

Hermione blinked, uncertain if she had seen what she thought she had or if, in fact, she had been hallucinating. It raised its head, eyeing her for a moment, then bounded off of the bench, and charged towards her. Hermione suddenly realised who it was.

"Crookshanks!" she yelled out, drawing the attention of several patrons of the station, as the large fluffy cat dived at her, almost bowling her over. Looking over his coat, she noted to him, "Crookshanks! You've been out all night chasing mice again haven't you?" She tutted somewhat, but stroked him and then allowed him to follow her on her voyage to Hogwarts.

Crossing the shining silver railway line, she proceeded, bags in hand, into the lush green grounds of Hogwarts, which had a light frosting of brown, shrivelled leaves from the deciduous oaks that surrounded the area.

The sunlight shone down brightly on the lake and Hermione and her cat reflected in it, Hermione's bright red, knee-length coat accentuating her slim form and her thick, long brown hair allowed to flow liberally behind her. The water was calm, except for a few ripples caused by a recent appearance of the Giant Squid. Hermione smiled slightly, thinking about many a time spent near the lake, with many a friend...

Her thoughts turned to Ron, and her smile faded; the sunlight also dimmed a little, and even Crookshanks looked a little down. Hermione increased her pace to get to the doors quicker; this was, as it had been every day since that fateful moment, an unpleasant and unwelcome reminder of her seventh year.

The grand doors to the school were now in view; as always in winter, only the smaller lower section of them was open, due to the immense winds that picked up due to Hogwarts' coastal location. Although this situation presented the observer with lovely views and superlative sunsets, basking the land in golds and yellows, it represented much more to the new teacher.

As she approached the old, wooden doors, she glanced subconsciously to the right; she saw Hagrid's hut, but, as had been regular for the entirety of this term, the billowing smoke present when Hagrid occupied it was nowhere to be seen. Again, Hermione felt a twang of pain as she stepped inside the castle in which she had essentially grown up.

A couple of students passed her by, and she smiled to them politely before she spotted Professor Lupin coming down the grand staircase.

"Ah, Professor Granger. Good morning. Off to breakfast?"

Hermione nodded curtly. "Yes, but I need to deposit my things first."

"Ah," he offered, "allow me to assist you." He took some of the baggage from her, and led her to the staffroom, where in the past two weeks alone, Hermione had enjoyed some of the best coffee in her life. The privileges of being a teacher were quite numerous, she had discovered.

Crookshanks happily placed himself in the armchair closest to the roaring, searingly hot fire, and curled up, preparing for a sleep. Hermione shook her head in mocking, and then placed the remainder of her things on a desk allocated to her.

The new professor picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet that was lying idly on the same table, and, spotting something, she opened it to a page near the centre. It was a detailed article describing the abolition of the Act that had previously prevented werewolves from being permitted to work in schools, and although it had been a long time coming, this academic year was the start of their reunification with other creatures.

Therefore, Professor Lupin had been the first to be rehired by Professor Dumbledore.

Looking over her shoulder, Remus commented. "I still think they could have been a little more graceful. I mean, look at those comments," he indicated several, "they present werewolves in a less than favourable manner."

"I absolutely agree," Hermione replied enthusiastically. "But then, I guess old loyalties never really die, do they?"

No reply to this comment was needed, and the pair exited shortly thereafter, breakfast beckoning them to the Great Hall. Every day since Hermione had been a teacher, she had made a conscious effort to be the first professor to the staff table, but Albus Dumbledore had somehow managed to beat her on every occasion, no matter how early she arrived.

Today was going to be the day she would be first. She had arrived forty minutes earlier than usual, had only stopped briefly in the staff room, and was taking the most direct route she knew to the Great Hall. Plus, he hadn't passed her in the corridor - she HAD to be first this time.

However, as she entered the Great Hall, she muttered something under her breath as she noted that Professor Dumbledore was talking to Professor Flitwick at the staff table.

She tried to hide her annoyance by smiling widely at the two men as she arrived at the table with Lupin, but Albus commented, "You'll have to do better than that, Hermione my dear," winking at her knowingly.

"Whatever do you mean, Professor?" she asked mockingly, inclining her tone.

Albus simply smiled as he took his seat, Hermione, in addition, taking hers. She took out a leaf of parchment and a quill, and began to work on her lesson plans for classes that would take place in two weeks' time. She had many classes, library study time periods, and lunch breaks to schedule, although given what Hermione did during her eating times, these sessions were one and the same. However, Hermione had never had a problem coping before, and now was no different.

Albus watched her work for almost twenty minutes straight before students started to trickle into the Hall and assemble on the various tables. Many of Ravenclaw's group arrived first, followed by Gryffindor and then Slytherin and Hufflepuff.

Professors and other staff also began to arrive, taking their seats to both Hermione's left and right. However, the seat directly adjacent to her was left empty, even at eight o'clock when breakfast officially commenced.

Breakfast appeared in front of her; it was a bowl of bran, with large pieces of various coloured fruits intermixed with the brown-coloured flakes. Hermione smiled; she knew Dobby had had something to do with this. Somehow she had managed to receive her favourite breakfast every day since she had been a professor; the only other person to receive this special privilege was Dumbledore himself.

As she took the first spoonful into her mouth, she saw another Professor marching quickly and clearly hurriedly up the central isle. He wore a pin denoting that he was now head of Hufflepuff House; although it was unprecedented for a former Gryffindor to be head of this House, Professor Dumbledore had offered Neville Longbottom the job after Professor Sprout had been promoted to Minister of Ecology at the Ministry of Magic, and since the Hufflepuffs had readily accepted him, both the positions of Herbology professor and Head of House had then been bestowed upon him.

He took his seat next to the radiantly beautiful Hermione, and tucked into the bowl of Wizard-O's that sparkled as they floated gently in the creamy milk.

Hermione smirked at him. "You should really be here on time, Neville." He looked mortified at this comment, and defended, "But I tried to be on time, Hermione, I really tried. It's just that I get so bogged down wi-"

She grabbed his hand quickly between hers and noted, "I'm joking." She looked into his eyes and smiled, and he returned it as realisation dawned upon him.

Letting his hand go, they both returned to eating the cereal; that is, until Hermione felt a searing glare burning at her flesh and stinging her soul. She looked to the right, and saw Professor Snape directing a glance at her, and she shuddered somewhat, memories of her time as a student resurfacing again.

She turned back, and met silence for a few moments, before Dumbledore addressed her once more.

"Don't worry about it Hermione. He does it to everyone, even to me on occasion. I don't take it too seriously."

Directing Hermione at his feet, he added, "I don't take a lot of things too seriously, of course." He revealed his socks, which today, were pink with green frills. Hermione stifled a laugh and returned to her breakfast, smiling at her elder as she ate.

"So I've noticed over the years," Hermione quipped, earning her a smile from Albus.

"Not something I ever intend to change," Dumbledore added, and with a smirk, finished, "irrespective of how much Severus decides to send glares in my direction."

"As it should be." Hermione returned to her notes as Professor Dumbledore moved off to talk to Flitwick.

***

"This class," Hermione announced, "will be conducted on the topic of Theory of Transfiguration, and is not a practical session, as indicated by the schedule sheets I issued at the beginning of term." There were various groans at the idea of a theory lesson - they meant a lot of writing and study, and most of the students did not enjoy this. One girl, however, smiled brightly at the idea, Hermione noticed.

"However," she was about to make people even more unhappy, "today we are not going to be studying any new topics, but instead reviewing those that we have already covered in the form of a test. Sorry for the black marks down the left edge - the replication spell went slightly wrong."

Hermione started to distribute the test parchments using her wand, what little glow that remained on each student's face disappearing like a stone dropped into water.

Students' heads bowed and quills scratched against the parchments as everyone got to the task at hand. Many of the expressions indicated either frustration or unhappiness at the questions, although a few were managing to a fair standard, and one person was simply staring at the paper, perhaps willing the correct responses to manifest themselves upon his parchment.

One girl was sat looking toward the front of the classroom, her quill neatly positioned on the desk in front of the parchment. Assuming that she was having difficulty, Hermione returned to the marking of the fifth year Ravenclaw homework. This was only the second OWL-standard Transfiguration homework she had marked, and she intended to be a harsh marker in order that the students would learn more than she herself had learnt in the same year of her education.

She read over the first homework and corrected an erroneous spelling of an advanced transfigurative spell, then a spelling of a standard English word, before moving on to read the rest of the piece. Giving the piece a mediocre grade, she moved to the next, affording herself a glance at the student whom she had previously seen doing nothing.

She noted that the girl was in a similar position to before. The girl flicked a piece of frizzy golden brown hair over her ear, and, chancing a glance at her teacher, flicked her eyes away when she saw Hermione looking back at her.

The girl rested as she was, so Hermione took the initiative. "Aeranna, is something wrong?"

Aeranna flushed a little at the attention, and drew a couple of stares, the eyes from which they had come soon returning to their work. "No, ermm... I'm finished, Professor Granger."

More glances were drawn, and Hermione herself seemed a little bit caught off guard. Collecting herself, she noted the stares which now focused on the teacher instead of Aeranna, and told the class to return to their work, before telling Aeranna, "bring your test paper to my desk."

Aeranna raised herself from her seat and walked up to Hermione's desk, straightening her jumper on the way. She handed the paper to her teacher, who, pushing aside the fifth-year work for a moment, commenced marking it.

After looking at the first question, she noticed that Aeranna was still standing nearby. She offered, "Aeranna... you can either have some additional work, or you can have the rest of the period free, since the test is all we are going to do today. What would you like to do?" She turned her gaze to meet Aeranna's.

Aeranna didn't need time to consider. "I'd like some more work, please, Professor," she chose.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, then smiled, quite in contrary to some of the members of the class, who simply shook their heads and returned to work.

"Alright," Hermione nodded, and began to give her a list of chapters to read, after which she was to proceed to review questions on the topics covered.

***

Hermione made her way to the expansive Great Hall and as she approached the staff table, she noted that Professors Snape and Flitwick, and Madam Pince were also present, as well as a number of minor supernumeraries to replace recently retired members of Hogwarts staff.

Taking her seat, she nodded to each one in turn, receiving a smile from Flitwick, a curt nod from Pince, and a downright rude glance from Snape. She looked at the Lunch Menu: today, the House Elves were serving a delicious tuna and mayonnaise wrap, a bowl of chicken soup, or a rump steak with Dijon mustard as a flavouring. The vegetarian option, for which Hermione usually opted, was spinach quiche. She requested it, and within seconds, it was delivered to her, along with a silver knife and fork.

Before starting, she used her wand to activate some knitting apparatus that she had stowed under her seat at the staff table. Two socks of different colours and patterns were being created by the needles. She took a bite of the food, unaware of Snape's sneers toward the constructs. Halfway through the quiche, which was of an excellent standard as always, she noticed the sneers, and, gaining courage, turned to face him and scrunched up her nose, smiling a little. He turned away in disgust and returned to glaring at various students as they entered the Hall.

Hermione, satisfied, turned back to her meal and struggled not to laugh.

***

Later, the meal consumed and the socks somewhat slightly more knitted, Professor Longbottom re-entered the Hall. Hermione didn't notice at first, but he was sporting an enormous boil. It looked like, upon closer inspection as he approached, to have been caused by the acid of a Fructilian Fungus plant, which, Hermione knew from experience, could become somewhat angry if improperly treated.

"Neville," she asked as he climbed the steps to the staff platform, "what happened to you?"

Neville looked frustrated and weakened. "Slytherin seventh-years. Rowdy lot, they are. They irritated the Fructilian plants," Hermione nodded in recognition of the proof to her theory, "and of course you know what happens when you do that. One of them is in the hospital wing now - has a head the size of a watermelon."

Hermione shook her head. "Idiots." She took another bite of her quiche. "Don't be so harsh on yourself, Neville," she added, noting the sombre look adorning his defined facial features.

"I've just had to send a kid to the hospital wing." Neville wore an expression of failure.

Hermione chastised him lightly. "Many pupils go to the hospital wing every day, Neville. Don't worry about it."

He seated himself, but looked down at his plate with the despondency of a dog with an empty food bowl. Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"Neville... why don't you join me for dinner this evening?" She stepped up to the plate to try and raise his spirits.

He froze for a moment, and then turned his lowered head to face Hermione. "You're asking me to join you for dinner?"

"Sure I am. We're friends, aren't we?" Hermione proffered a tiny smile, which seemed to have a massive influence over the young professor.

Neville smiled brightly after a moment's consideration. "Thank you, I'll join you, definitely."

Hermione nodded. "7.30pm at my house, then. I'll see you there."

***

The lake radiated the golden September sunlight onto Hermione's brown locks and danced over her face as she passed its cool waters and the grassy reeds that surrounded it. She trotted along at a comfortable yet efficient pace, her bag filled with academic items, including a large amount of students' work for assessment, and a bag of cookies she had saved from her mid-afternoon snack. Pushing her thin hand inside the bag, she took one and sank her teeth into it, flinching as she missed and bit her tongue.

She walked on toward a large tree that stood at the other end of the lake. As she closed on it, her eyes moved to stay in alignment with it, as she remembered Ron climbing the tree one sunny summer afternoon.

***

"Peeves..." Hermione called warningly to the ghost, who in a rare move had left the castle itself and moved into the grounds. He had stolen Hermione's bag, whilst Hermione and Ron were pursuing the poltergeist, and was heading towards a tall tree.

Peeves simply sniggered and threw the bag into the tree, dodging a random hex that Ron threw at him in fury, then fled back to the safety of the castle.

Hermione raised her wand to cast the Accio spell and call the bag back to her, before Ron grabbed her wrist. "Wait, Hermione," he proclaimed, "I'll get it for you."

"No, you don't have to," Hermione looked curiously at him.

"I'd love to," Ron insisted, and ran towards the tree, jumping up onto the lower branches with relative ease. Hermione sat down in the grasses below, untamed and allowed to grow over the years, as she watched Ron swinging up to the higher levels of the tree using the strength he had built up over the years. Hermione hadn't realised just how much Ron had matured, and this apparently showed it.

He reached the branch deftly, then, pulling himself up with principally his right arm, grabbed the bag and strapped it onto his bag, turning around to come back down. He descended one branch, and then moved to the next, confidence abound in him before slipping, and falling into the grasses below, rolling to avoid serious injury.

Hermione crawled over, since he had landed not far from her, and sat over him.

"Ron, are you alright?" She was desperately concerned; it had been no small fall. Ron had descended a good three metres.

He looked up into her worried brown eyes; nothing had changed. No, *something* had changed, he decided. They weren't just 'eyes' any more. They were deep brown centres to a face of perfect formation, unblemished and pure, that belonged to a girl that emanated beauty. And intelligence, and compassion, and kindness.

He looked again at her still concerned expression, and raised his lips to hers, gently brushing the soft skin against her own, before realising what he was doing. His cheeks turning to a furious, fiery red, he slid away from her and picked himself up, running away with haste.

Hermione touched her lips with a single finger, then looked at the same digit, surprise overwhelming her more than any other feeling.

Then she smiled, acknowledging to herself what he had just told her.

She rolled over in the grass, lying flat out on her back and smiling up at the sun.

It seemed to smile back down at her.

***

Hermione, angry at herself for even allowing herself to be nostalgic, increased her pace as she marched on past the tree and made the rest of the journey to her home in silent rage.

***

Entering the house, she slammed the door, startling Crookshanks, but who nonetheless jumped towards his master, climbing up on her knees. Hermione couldn't stay angry for very long after that, and as she fussed about with her cat, she waved her wand to bring in any post. Today, incidentally, there was none.

Checking the clock, she noted that it was nearly five pm already, and that she needed to get the food cooking and to prepare herself for Neville's arrival. Moving to the kitchen, she waved her wand once and food started to fly out and around into a concentric circular arrangement, before distributing itself into appropriate pots and pans, which themselves had arrived from various locations around the room. Activating the gas-supplied cooker, she left everything to cook as she moved to the kitchen table to grade the tests she had given to the students in class today.

Most of the tests were of a middling grade at best - apparently not many students had revised well, or at least not to Hermione's standards. She was turning out to be almost as harsh with her marking as Professor Snape had been during her day, and presumably still was.

Eventually, the pile began to rotate back around toward the beginning as Hermione completed the task at hand, and she eventually found the test that Aeranna had done. Re-reading the script, she smiled; the answers that Aeranna had written were almost textbook replies to the questions. Raising an eyebrow, she ran her wand over to check for foul play, which would have been imprinted on the test paper due to the anti-cheating spells, but found nothing. Aeranna was truly as good as she had looked.

Suddenly, an aroma that certainly didn't agree with her tastes met with the inside of her nose. She looked over to the food; smoke had emerged from one of the pans and was billowing about the kitchen. Concurrently, the doorbell rang. Sighing, Hermione pointed her wand at the cooker, extinguishing the flames and headed to the door. As she approached the door, she heard a plant pot smash against the stone outside the porch.

She unlocked the Yale security device and pulled open the wooden-glass door, revealing Luna Lovegood, and Gilderoy Lockhart, once again.

Gilderoy immediately stepped forward, and with his most elaborate voice, announced: "Gilderoy Lockhart. Order of Photography, Third Class. Honorary Memb-"

He found his mouth covered by Luna's petite and bony hand as she shoved him back. "Ah, hi, Hermione. Mind if we come in?" She pushed past Hermione, Gilderoy following her. They proceeded into the living room, Hermione fuming silently behind them. She poked around with her wand under various objects. "Not under here... DEFINITELY not around here... WHAT is this, Hermione?" she indicated a rat that Crookshanks had brought in. Hermione scowled at the rat and then watched as Luna moved on. "Oh, I'm disappointed, I thought it was an Hinkleberry Moose." Hermione shook her head slightly; Luna didn't concern herself with it. She poked her wand into the roaring fire. "Oooh, fire hot. What's this? Soot on the mantelpiece? Hermione! Ah, here it is..." she directed her gaze to the ceiling. Her tone turning mystic, she chanted, "Dumpleting! Dumpleting!"

After a few seconds, she shook her head to Lockhart. "Not here, Gilderoy, sorry. Ciao, Hermione." The two promptly exited, leaving Hermione to regard the dead rat.

"CROOKSHANKS!" she yelled in fury.

*

Having repaired the plant pot, cleaned up the dead rat, and thoroughly chastised Crookshanks, Hermione had returned to the kitchen, continued with the preparation of the food and finally, the doorbell rang again. Hermione, crossing her fingers, moved toward the front door, sighing when she heard the tinkle of ceramic pieces against stone, and upon reaching the door, opened it to reveal the form of Neville.

"Sorry," he said, regarding the broken pot.

"Oh, don't worry, come in," Hermione ushered him in. She showed him to the living room, and told him she wouldn't be a minute while she finished the food. She promptly exited to the kitchen.

Neville, meanwhile, looked around the room, regarding each delicate and carefully-selected object with his rounded green eyes. His gaze strayed over the white, soft feathers of Hedwig, who cooed at him, and Neville found himself allured to her call. His feet pattered lightly across the carpet, which bore Crookshanks' hairs, as he approached the bird. Hedwig's head settled into his hand as he stroked her snow coloured fur.

A tear formed in his eyes and as the weight of the liquid increased, its form began to slide down his face and towards his rotund chin.

He hadn't noticed Hermione's renewed presence in the room. As he turned around, she saw his face and easily picked out the tears, and the skin surrounding the eyes which was starting to redden ever so slightly as the salt penetrated and inflamed the skin.

She trotted across the room to meet him, wrapping her arms around the professor in a warm, protective way as he withdrew his hand from Hedwig's cage and placed his own arms around Hermione.

He whispered almost silently into her ear. "Sorry, Hermione. It's just..."

"Shhhh," she whispered back. "It's alright. I understand."

*

Neville let out a healthy belch as he finished his meal, then immediately his face reddened in embarrassment.

She giggled. "I take that as a compliment, Neville."

"I... can't believe how quickly this term's going," Neville changed the subject hastily.

Hermione followed his lead. "I know. I should be planning my trip to Paris by now. I'm way behind."

Neville's eyes flicked up as he stuck a fork into the chocolate sponge cake Hermione had provided by way of dessert. "I meant to tell you something about that. Luna mentioned that the Crumple-Horned Snorkack has been sighted in Paris. She wanted to come along with you."

Seeing Hermione's eyes rolling faster than the wheels on a car he continued. "Just for the journey."

"Luna and Gilderoy, presumably, want to come with me to Paris?" Hermione was disgusted and without a doubt sickened.

"Yes," Neville was looking embarrassed again now, "but only for the journey. And besides, I think there's something to be said for having them along."

"Oh? Please, enlighten me," Hermione insisted.

"Luna's covering the Quidditch matches for the Quibbler," he elaborated.

"And?" Hermione was no further enthused.

"Well, the European Cup is being held in Paris, and one of the people representing Britain is..." He hesitated.

There was no need for Hermione to ask him to complete the sentence.

She flushed bright red.

*

As Neville left gracefully, two hours and twenty minutes and several glasses of white wine later, Hermione waved goodbye to the Herbology professor.

"Thank you for this evening," he told her. "I had a lovely time."

"That's ok, Neville," she smiled. "You're welcome any time."

He left with haste, carefully avoiding the plant pot this time. Hermione stepped forward and cursed as she herself knocked it off of its pedestal.

"Reparo!" she cast, and then put the repaired pot back on the stand, entering the house again shortly after. She looked at the clock, and seeing that the time read ten forty pm, she decided it was time to go to bed for the night. She needed to be fully awake for the next day in order to adequately teach the seventh-year Advanced Transfiguration class.

Having undressed and then vested herself in her night clothing, brushed her teeth, and had a wash, she slid into bed, protecting herself inside the quilts and sheets that made up the grand double bed. As her eyelids protected her sensory organs of sight, she found herself in a world that was entirely her own...

*

"No, Ron!" she said. "Can you not see I am working?"

"Come on!" Ron insisted, flashing his best puppy-dog smile at the ovals of her eyes.

"No, Ronald," she pushed him away gently, smiling, "I have work to do."

He didn't say anything nor move; however, he kept the eyes fixed on Hermione's, and she, as he knew she would, relented.

"Ten minutes, Ron, and that's all you're getting," she told him, pointing like a professor. He smiled, grabbed her hand, and pulled her out of the common room at speed.

"Where are we going, Ron?" she asked as they passed the third-floor corridor.

"Come on, we're going to miss it!" Ron, now nearly a man, pulled her along. His hand clasped tightly around her own, he helped her round the last corner to the bottom of the staircase.

As they passed through the main door, Hermione found herself knocked to one side. She turned, but there was nothing to have knocked her.

"What? What was that?" Hermione was puzzled, before cogs turned in her mind. "Was that Har-"

"No," Ron interjected hastily. "I, er, saw him in his room a few minutes before we left," he lied.

"OK," Hermione was dubious, but she allowed it to slide as Ron pulled the last few metres to a bush near the lake.

"Now, you've got to close your eyes," he told her, and as she did, he put his hands over her eyes and led her around the corner to a spot by the lake that had been used by many a couple over the years. A pink and white picnic cloth, a basket filled with much food and a bottle of Madam Rosmerta's Private Reserve, four large candles and two place settings were present.

He removed his hands and told her she could open her eyes, which she did with a flutter, taking in the sight of the picnic and of the rippling lake, lit only by the candles, the stars and the moon. The luminescent effects were beautiful and radiant.

"Ron... it's beaut-"

"Shhh," he said, silencing the overwhelmed girl. "Now... Hermione, if you want to see something even more beautiful, you have to lie down."

Hermione wondered exactly what her friend was implying presently, but indulged him as he gently pushed on her shoulders. She lay on the ground, and her eyes were inclined to the sky. She trusted Ron implicitly, so she had no problem when she heard him positioning himself in the grass next to her.

"Now watch," he said, and waved his hand at the sky.

Nothing happened for a few minutes, before Hermione spoke again. "Ron, what exactly are w-"

"Shhhh..." Ron told her; his sound was swiftly followed by a resonant bang and flash of blue radiant colour. Hermione was dazzled but she kept her eyes focused on the effect, watching as something emerged from the clouds of blue energy.

"The Blue Phoen-" she muttered... "but... this is... so rare... Ron, how did you know?"

"I asked Hagrid," he told her softly, moving his body closer to hers. "He told me that the Blue Phoenix was migrating tonight, and so I hadn't got much time to set this up."

"It was Harry!" she called out playfully, turning her face to match his eyeline.

He smiled back at her pretty face. "Yeah..." he admitted.

Their eyes having met, he moved away slightly. "You know what, Hermione. It's pretty humid. Let's go for a swim." He started to toss his clothes off.

"Are you mad?" Hermione demanded playfully.

"No. Come on in!" he jumped over her and dived into the lake, disappearing under the water.

At first, she was unconcerned but as Ron spent longer and longer under the water and the silenced persisted, she became concerned rapidly.

"Ron?" she called, to no avail.

"Ron, this isn't funny," her tone changed to a darker one, a hint of fear contrasting her previous sense of happiness.

Eventually, she moved to the lake, ignoring the phoenix, which was now beginning to distance itself. She peered into the water. "Ro-"

She screamed as an arm reached out of the water and grabbed her, pulling her in with an enormous resonant splash.

As both surfaced, she screamed, "Ron!" and splashed him with the water. He dodged, and returned fire vivaciously, swilling the already soaking Hermione with the lukewarm lake water.

The two tired, and her angry cries changed to smiling giggles. "That was not funny, Ron!"

He swam over to her, and she approached him a little, before he surfaced inside of her arms, allowing them to drape like a curtain around his neck. He brought his own around her neck, and stared into her deep brown eyes.

His hand settled into her hair, and he pulled her head closer to his own, their bodies floating together synchronously. The light of the full moon encapsulated their bodies as they drifted closer, and as their lips met, the reflection of the moon's light on the water was perfectly aligned to their own forms.

Their lips melted together and soon their mouths opened to each other, allowing their tongues to dance an endless tango with each other as ripples of passion matched ripples of water.

As their kiss broke, Hermione and Ron stared into each other's eyes for a seemingly infinitesimal moment before they swam back to shore. Ron pushed himself up and onto the bank, his eyes focused on the reeds and the muddy banks that made up the shore.

Hermione's eyes, however, were transfixed on something else.

"Errr, Ron..." she said.

"What?" Ron stood tall in only his boxers, his eyes rapidly meeting those of Professor Snape. He jumped and nearly fell directly back into the water.

"Well, well, well," Snape snorted. "Team Potter have finally gotten together. You know sexual relations are forbidden for people your age. After seven years, you're still disobeying the rules. I'm especially disappointed in you, Miss Granger."

"We haven't had any sexual contact!" she defended.

"Oh, and the fact that Weasley here is only in his boxers is not evidence of the same?" Ron flushed furiously.

"But..." Hermione tried to argue.

"SILENCE!" he roared. "Back to the castle, now, both of you. We'll see what Professor McGonagall has to say about this." His sneer omnipresent, Hermione reluctantly climbed out of the water. She clung to herself, the cold of the sudden night time breeze against her wet skin a chilling force that was unwelcome and decidedly unpleasant.

He frog-marched them back to the castle. Hagrid, in the distance, shook his head in disgust at Snape's actions as they passed the gates.