An Ideal Death-Eater

About this actual chapter: I saw a review at Schnoogle (where I have fail to remember to post chapters time and again) that said Ron is not in character and I'm using him as a plot device to get Harry and Hermione together. That was never my intention. *pauses* Oh all right! Until roughly chapter 4, that was my intention. However, thanks to the lovely Claire, I grew quite fond of Ron and decided to change his storyline a bit. Thus you all saw Ron killing Voldie instead of Harry. I hadn't planned that and it was quite accidental, but in a good way. After I grew so fond of the Weasley boy, I decided that he needed his own plot and I delved deeper into his little red head. I'm not trying to make him a bad guy here; I'm just trying to make him real. There are no actual bad guys in this story, except Lucius and Voldie perhaps, just people who are either misguided or giving vent to their passions. This chapter and those which follow are more Ron-centred to a point, then it weaves back into the rest of the plot for a while and Ron is still there, just not as vocal. I believe some people, like Sarea, will appreciate his story. *winks*

About Draco and Ginny: Yes I know I know. You're all dying to find out how they actually feel about each other. There's a bit of that in these next three chapters and more as things progress. I've actually written the ending to this story (not that I've finished, whoa, far off from that!) and finally decided how things will end up for everyone once the Big Bad/Good is out of the way. I may change it later though, so I'm keeping mum. I want to see what Clairey thinks of it first before I decide anything seriously.

About Narcissa: There is a major plotline/tapestry thread partially concerning her later in the story. I know that I said I wouldn't change her surname from Emeric, however, I changed my mind when I realised that I could make this major plotline more believable if I stuck with canon on the point of her family background. So according to OotP (cover your eyes if you haven't read it) her maiden name is Black. According to AIDE, her maiden name is Black and her mother's name was Rosier, Lucius' aunt. Draco speaks about this later, so I didn't want anyone getting confused. When I have the chance, I'm going to go back and fix the other chapters to reflect this. It's a very small change, but very important.

So after the rambling, chapter nineteen is commenced!

Io non so ben ridir com’ i’ v’intrai How I came to it I cannot rightly say;
tant’ era pien di sonno a quel punto So drugged and loose with sleep had I become,
che la verace via abbandonai When first I wandered from the True Way.
~ Dante’s Inferno, Canto I

Ron was stalking down the halls in search of his sister. Classes had been over for some time and Ginny wasn't in Gryffindor tower last he'd checked, but maybe she had come back since then so he decided to try again.

He had been trying to keep what Pansy had told him about Ginny and Malfoy out of his mind all afternoon. It made his blood boil to think that his sister had sunk so low as to sleep with someone like Draco Malfoy. Not only that, but the entire school knew about it and no one had told him, not even Harry or Hermione. Sure, they were probably angry with him still, but something like this transcended anger. If they were ever really his friends, they would have told him. Perhaps they didn't know? It would be typical considering how little attention they had paid to rumours in the past.

Ron hadn't thought of Hermione for a while except when he would see her brush past him in the halls and a little spasm of pain would shoot through him before he turned away. And Harry, well, he still saw him every time they had practice on the Quidditch pitch. But relations between them were strained and Ron wished so many times since Christmas that he hadn't lost his temper at them both. It was hard to tell who was right and who was wrong anymore.

He also wished that he'd never thought of lying to Hermione in the first place. It had been a stupid thing to do, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he would have been found out eventually.

Things had started innocently enough.

Ron remembered the friendly kiss Hermione'd given Harry at the end of their fourth year. He'd dwelled on it almost all summer, along with the anger he felt about not getting a kiss, too. But he didn't know why it upset him so much; it seemed quite innocent. Perhaps it was the fact that Hermione hadn't thought he needed a kiss. After all, he was traumatised, too! When they came back to Hogwarts for their fifth year, he could see that Hermione was getting more emotionally attached to Harry and he'd felt left out. The first lie had been so spectacularly easy to say: Harry couldn't go for a walk with them because he was snogging Cho Chang.

"But don't talk to him about it, Hermione," Ron had whispered in her ear. "He's very sensitive when it comes to Cho and doesn't want anyone to know. You know, because of what happened to Cedric last year and all those rumours that flew around about you two. I only found out because I saw them and he made me promise to sit on it."

Hermione's face had gone beetroot before settling into a shade paler than normal. She'd nodded and accepted his offer to go for a walk around the lake.

It hadn't been his intention to keep her and Harry apart, at least not at first. He only wanted some time alone with Hermione where she would pay attention to just him instead of her O.W.L's or the other member of their Trio. And Harry was always off doing . . . Harry things. Like drilling the Quidditch team or making rosters because he was Captain, so Harry had no time for him either until sixth year when Ron became a Chaser.

It was terribly lonely during his fifth year and Ron didn't think he could handle Harry going on about Quidditch Captain and how rough it was without wanting to strangle him.

Later though, as he started to notice how pretty Hermione looked when she nibbled on her quill in class, or the way her robes started filling out in interesting places, he knew that he didn't want to share Hermione at all.

Harry always had everything: money, fame, and oodles of girls ready to pounce if he gave the word. And what did Ron have?

There was a time when he thought-- he'd hoped, that Hermione returned some of his feelings. She would blush sometimes when he asked her to go for a walk with him, or her eyes were especially bright when she spotted him coming toward her. But after a while, even that started to fade away, and she would gaze at Harry longingly from across the room where he sat, wallowing in self-pity or Firewhiskey. Sometimes both.

Ron kicked a bit of rubbish on the floor, delighting in the crunch it made against the wall. It was too late. He had been too scared to say anything to her and he lost; she'd moved on. Or back, maybe. Back to perfect Harry Potter. Back to the boy she'd obsessed about protecting her entire time in school. Harry who had everything he really needed. There were always loads of people about, willing to lend an ear or whatever Harry needed, whenever he needed it; even if the stupid sot was too thick to see them. And until Voldemort, what did he, Ron Weasley, have? Nothing. No money, no fame, and there certainly weren't girls coming out of the woodwork for him were there?

Ron winced as he thought about the scene with Pansy earlier and patted his leg absently. Well, they were coming out of the woodwork now, or rather, the loo. Only this one didn't want to shag him, did she? Nope, a friendly speck of brutality was all she was after, messy brutality. Stupid, pug-nosed witch needed to learn how to keep her boyfriends in line. Ron snickered at the thought. She probably took them in a line, too. Pansy was known around Hogwarts as being more than a bit of a scarlet woman, as his mum called them. Then again, Ron wasn't much better, and he admitted this to himself for the first time. He was taking it a bit far with all the girls, but how could he help it when they threw themselves at him like they did? They had even taken to popping up in the hallway between classes and dragging him into unused rooms. He couldn't count the amount of times he'd missed Charms because a bit of wicked had waylaid him in the corridors. Perhaps it was getting out of hand after all.

He wished, for the twentieth time in as many minutes, that he still had Harry and Hermione around. They had a right to be angry, and he knew he'd done wrong, but he missed his friends now more than ever before. Everywhere Ron went, people wanting to be his friend bombarded him, but they were shallow friendships at best. No one dared to disagree with him or have a pleasant banter like Hermione, and there was no Quidditch talk or rough-housing like he'd had with Harry; everyone only wanted to hear about Voldemort or how big his-- Well, Ron felt lost and it was pointless to continue when he knew what he wanted. Perhaps if he got on his knees and threw himself before them then they would take him back. And that's just what he would do, after he had a word with Ginny.

Ron reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and gave her the password, climbing through the hole behind her and walking into the Gryffindor common room. He looked around for his sister while he was still in the shadows and frowned when he saw her happily pouring over a book next to the fire. She sat facing him and he walked toward her, noticing that her robes weren't buttoned properly and she only wore one sock. It was as if she didn't even care what people thought of her anymore.

Ginny's face brightened at his approach and she tossed her book aside to stand up and hug him. Ron stood stiff as a board with his arms by his sides while she embraced him, but she didn't notice and started chattering animatedly.

"You'll never guess who I saw today! Outside of Dumbledore's office I saw--"

Ron narrowed his eyes and grabbed her upper arms in a crushing grip. "I know who you saw," he whispered, even though he didn't have a clue as to who she was talking about. But by the look on her face she knew who he really meant. "I know."

Her eyes grew wide with fear and she tried to back away but he wouldn't let her. "R-ron, I-"

Ron felt his face flush hot when he saw Ginny's jaw quivering as if she wanted to say more, but didn't. All activity in the common room ceased. Ron turned to look at everyone and most flinched visibly under his accusing gaze. "Get out. All of you get out."

Most of them did as he said, dropping their quills and parchments for the relative safety of their dorms. Only Colin Creevey had enough courage to stand up for Ginny.

"Leave her alone, Ron."

"She's my bloody sister and if I want to talk to her, I will. Now get the hell out of here!"

"No. You're frightening her; can't you see that?" Colin pleaded, his palms upturned and reaching.

"She deserves more than a good scare after what she's done."

Colin sized Ron up for a moment before looking at Ginny. "I'm getting Harry and Hermione."

He bolted up the stairs and Ron turned his attention back to Ginny. "Why didn't you tell me? Why did I have to hear from Pansy Parkinson that you've been shagging Malfoy?"

Something in her eyes snapped and she pulled herself out of his grip. "Because I knew you'd be an arse about it and it's none of your bloody business who I'm with!"

"None of my business? I'm your brother and I have a right to know what you're doing."

"No, you don't," Ginny said quietly. "I stay out of your private life; even if I think you're thoroughly buggering yourself with all those girls. Even if I think that your head's swelled so big that you can't see anything anymore. You don't care about me, you never did. This is all because your pride is hurt. You're not doing this out of love for me, but out of love for yourself."

How could she say that? How could she dare? Didn't she know that it was because of her that he had found the strength to kill Voldemort? It was the terror, etched so deeply into her face, that threw him over the edge and made it possible for him to lift that knife up high and bury it into the Dark Lord's back. It was his love for Ginny that overcame his fear. Now here she was, throwing everything in his face after he had done so much for her. Here she was-- with the same horridly fascinating chalk-white complexion and pale lips pressed together as if she were going to scream . . .

Panic blinded him to reason and Ron pushed Ginny in the chest; anything so she wouldn't look at him like that! She stumbled over a footstool and fell to the ground with her ankle twisted underneath. He blinked for a moment at what he'd done and was about to apologise when he heard the fast patter of feet down the stairs behind him. Ron turned to see Harry and Hermione pulling their robes on hastily as they ran toward him with Colin scrambling after them. Ron's eyes narrowed slightly; there was no doubt about what they'd been doing when Colin had interrupted them.

Hermione went to Ginny and quickly assessed the damage to her ankle before turning a gaze full of venom on Ron. "What did you do?"

"I--" Ron broke off and gazed at his sister, who was wincing every time Hermione touched her ankle. Good God, what had he done? "Ginny, I--"

He was cut off when someone shoved him from behind. Ron turned and they shoved him again, this time in the chest.

"She's your fecking sister, man! Your own flesh and blood, and look what you've done!" Colin roared at him, his mouth twisted into a grimace and his eyes burning like twin coals. He was shorter than Ron, yet there seemed to be an inner strength that loudly proclaimed he could be a worthy opponent if motivated, despite his wiry frame.

Ron beetled his brows. "I didn't mean to do it. And it's none of your damn business anyway, you little ponce. Like you said, she's my sister."

Ginny gasped and looked at Colin. His eyelids were twitching and, without warning, he drew back his fist and punched Ron in the jaw. It was the second time that day someone had hit him, not to mention the same exact spot, and Ron was getting more than a little sick of it.

"You're dead, Creevey!" he shouted, blood spraying from his lips. "They'll be able to sweep you into a--"

Harry stepped forward and shoved Colin behind him. "No, Ron. You're not doing anything to him or anyone else. Just get out of here and let Hermione and I take Ginny to the Infirmary."

All thoughts of apologising to them fled and Ron stared at Harry, his chest heaving with indignation. "Get out of here? Are you daft? I'm not going anywhere until I have a talk with Ginny about her choice of companions."

Hermione stood up and wedged her way between Harry and Ron. "It isn't any of your business, Ron! She's a big girl and if she wants to be with that git Malfoy, then she can. We can't do anything to stop her or change her mind. Believe me, I've tried."

They knew! They had let Ginny trot around the castle with Malfoy and hadn't even told him about it. Were they ever his friends at all or did they just hate him that much?

"I can't believe you. You knew and you didn't tell me?"

Hermione couldn't look him in the eye, but instead stared at a point below his chin. "Yes, we knew. And we didn't tell you because it wasn't your concern."

"Not my concern? Why does everyone keep saying that?" Ron yelled. "How many times do I have to say that she's my sister and it is my concern? Malfoy is evil."

Harry put his hands on Hermione's shoulders protectively. "I don't like Malfoy anymore than you do, Ron. But even you have to admit that he's changed."

"He hasn't changed," Ron sneered. "And if you think he has then you're thicker than I thought."

"Leave them alone, Ron," Ginny wearily said from behind him. He turned to her and she continued. "And leave Draco alone, too. You don't know anything about him."

"Really?" he asked. "I know that he's the son of a Death Eater; the same Death Eater who slipped that bloody evil book into your cauldron your first year. I know he thinks that Hermione's inferior just because she isn't pure-blood. I know that he's an evil wanker who can't seem to keep his nasty, slimy hands off of my baby sister!"

Ginny smirked. "And I know that he's not a wanker. And his hands are very nice, thank you."

Ron inhaled sharply. How could she just throw it in his face like that? "Mum would be ashamed of you. In fact, I think everyone will be ashamed of you once they find out."

"Mum and Dad like Draco," she retorted.

"Maybe now, but when they find out that you've been messing around with him, I can guarantee that Dad is going to kill him."

Tears trickled from her eyes and she looked up at him, her face twisted in anger. "Don't you dare tell them! I'll tell them myself when I'm ready for them to know."

"But I thought that--" Hermione said before she seemed to think better of it. Ron glanced at her from the corner of his eye and he could see she was struggling to stay quiet.

"What?" Ron bit out.

"It's just that-" Hermione's hands twisted in her robes uncomfortably before looking at his sister. "Well, I thought you said that it wasn't anything serious, Ginny. And you should tell them if it's . . ." She trailed off nervously, as if she didn't want to vocalise her own thoughts anymore.

Ron looked back at Ginny. She wasn't exactly smiling, but there was something on her face that he didn't like.

"Maybe it is serious. I'm not saying that I love him or anything, but . . ." One corner of her lip perked up. "Well, I fancy him a bit."

"You won't see him again, Ginny. I mean it. If I find out that you're sneaking off places with him, then I'll-" He struggled for a moment. "Well, I'll lock you up in your dormitory!" Ron said a bit more firmly. "And I'm going to kill Malfoy," he added in a whisper.

"You can't tell me what to do! Who do you think you are?"

"I'm your brother, damn it! And if I say that you're not to see Malfoy, then you're not to see him and that's final."

Harry reached over Hermione to lay a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Ron, you can't do that. Especially if Ginny has, well, feelings for him. None of us like it, but you don't see us locking her away like a prisoner, do you?"

Ron turned to Harry. If they were ever friends then Harry would have told him about this. If they were ever friends, Harry would be helping him hunt down Malfoy right now. "Don't touch me, Potter."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Stop being such a baby and grow up, Ron. Why don't we just agree that you'll leave Ginny alone, and Harry and I'll apologise for not telling you about her and Malfoy."

Ron was just about to tell Hermione to rightly piss off when he heard the portrait in the hall scraping open. They all turned to see Bill walking toward them, looking slightly haggard. His face was serious, as it rarely was, and he regarded them each in turn, lingering on Ron and Harry. Obviously he could see that there was something going on, but he didn't stop to ask questions.

"You'd all better stop what you're doing. We need your help."

Hermione was the one to step forward and she pushed herself from between Ron and Harry to greet Bill with a look of apprehension. "What's happened?"

Ron had a bad feeling as Bill looked down and rubbed the back of his neck before finally meeting Hermione's eyes. "Hagrid's missing."

*~*~*~*~*

Draco sat up in his bed with a scowl and looked at the clock on the wall above Crabbe's bed. The small hand was still about two marks away from pointing to 'eat supper, you lazy git'. Since Ginny had gone, this meant that he wasn't about to get that nap he wanted anytime soon. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do now that Slytherin was out of the running for the House Cup.

He sighed and leaned against the headboard. When had his sleep schedule become tied up with whether or not Ginny Weasley was in his bed? Late in the night she sometimes crept into his room, as if she knew that he couldn't sleep well without her there. He hated that she had this-- this power over him. Even more than that, though, he hated that she seemed to know it.

It wasn't love.

Draco was honest with himself about that. He wasn't even sure what love was exactly; some sort of fluffy Gryffindor-type feeling, no doubt. This thing with Ginny was more about comfort. She was comfortable. Not just in the way that her body was soft and pliable and nice to nap on, though he reminded himself to tell her to stop running around so much because she was becoming decidedly less soft. No, Ginny Weasley was all around comfortable, almost motherly in a fashion when he allowed her to fuss over him. That notion was rather twisted when he thought about it. He liked her because she was motherly? God, he hoped that wasn't it!

Draco frowned and pulled one of his father's journals out from under his pillow, just a little dark reading before supper might possibly take his mind from other things. He sighed and opened it to where he'd left off before and started scanning the lines out of boredom, if nothing else.

He'd already learned at least two things of significant interest from the journals: the curse his father had written about before was somehow connected to an Irish myth, and even Lucius wasn't perfect. Well, the last bit was obvious, being the uphill gardener that he was. But still, it made Draco smile every time he saw a misspelling here or there. The Tir nOg curse was most likely the Tir nan Og curse, if it was indeed connected to the land of Tir nan Og, as Draco suspected.

Draco thumbed through the leather-bound book until he came to a page that he'd marked with a silver ribbon. There was a line Lucius had written in a margin here that particularly captured Draco's interest: a land wherein there is naught save truth, and where is neither age nor decay, sorrow nor gladness, nor envy nor jealousy, hatred nor haughtiness.

Obviously the man had copied it from some other source, the language was too archaic to be otherwise. But most interesting were the words 'envy' 'jealousy' 'hatred' and 'haughtiness'; they'd all been crossed out.

Draco narrowed his eyes and grabbed a quill. He would get to the bottom of this whole thing. He summoned his inkwell and a scroll of parchment from across the room and set to work.

He copied down the passage before flipping through the journal for the other entry he had marked. Ah, there it was. A few lines scribbled hastily in the margins of another entry. They seemed to be more quotes from something, but they made no sense; at least not in his father's journal.

Where the hair is like a blossom of the golden primrose,
Where the tender body is as fair as snow.

Then on the opposite page was written:

Where the youth never grow to old age,
Handsome people without blemish.

Well, what the devil was all that supposed to mean, anyway? If the last four lines described the curse at all, it wasn't much of a curse. Draco looked down at his naked chest. Apart from his ever-fluctuating emotions, he hadn't physically changed much aside from growing hairier perhaps. At least not that he had noticed. And he had a feeling that this curse, whatever it was, had little to do with excessive body hair.

Draco's gaze trailed from his chest and down to his wrists. They were scarred from the ropes his father had used the night he'd run away. Then he remembered his back and how it looked now, crisscrossed with pale pink lines from his father's whip. Now that he thought about it, he'd never had a scar before. Most people had something; a skinned knee that escaped their parent's notice or a wound too deep for spells to cover completely, or even a damned lightening bolt on an equally damned forehead. But he had no mark on his body from anything that may have happened before the phoenix shed a tear for him, except the Seize Quartiers perhaps, if that could be considered a blemish. Well, he considered it a blemish, but Draco wasn't sure who dictated the rules and what they considered a blemish.

God, it truly was an eyesore. He had a copy of it on his bedroom wall at the manor. It was interesting enough, and Lucius had told him, with uncharacteristic patience, what it meant and which bloodlines were bred into the Malfoy family.

Draco hadn't lied to his mother when he said that he was proud. He was proud of his heritage, as dark as it was. He was proud of the fact that no Muggle or half-blood had ever tarnished the Malfoy name. And although the Malfoys hadn't been in England as long as some other wizarding families, only a paltry four or five hundred years, they had been well-established in France before that. His mother had no right to say he wasn't proud. She had no right at all because she was just as bad as he was. She had run away once, too.

Oh, it had been shocking to see written down on parchment that Narcissa Malfoy, his mother, had run away from Malfoy Manor. Draco went to another marked passage in the old journal and reread it with relish.

Narcissa ran away today. We've been married for just under six months and I should have known that she would; the Rosier side of the family has always been weak and simple-minded. Narcissa is quite like my mother in that. A pity, but My Lord did all he could with that lot. She has no pride in her name and I must find her before she does something foolish. If it's ever known that she has left I will be humiliated, and I will not allow that to happen.

I have told her friends that she has gone to visit her mother. None of them know that my aunt is dead, so it makes little difference. Narcissa will be well acquainted with my Chamber when she is found.

Draco made a note to ask her about that. As much as she had berated him for leaving the manor, it would be amusing to see her face when she found out that he knew about her little jaunt in the countryside. It hadn't been a particularly long absence, only a week or so, but it was enough to bring a smile to Draco's face just knowing that she was human, too.

He looked up at the clock and sighed. It was about bloody time. He shut the book and shoved all of his notes inside. But as he reached under his pillow to put it away, he noticed something soft and fuzzy that he hadn't come across before. Pulling it out, he realised that it was Ginny's sock.

Draco brought it immediately to his nose and sniffed: it smelled like grass and patent leather from her shiny school shoes. He closed his eyes for a moment and could see her lying on the neatly trimmed grass of the Quidditch pitch; smiling through her fingers, her eyes alight with pleasure. It was lovely except she'd never done that, not for him anyway. Not anywhere but his own private fantasies had she looked at him like that. And why should she, he asked himself? It didn't matter whether Ginny smiled or not as long as she did what he wanted.

He tossed the sock on the bed angrily and stood up to find something suitable to wear. It wouldn't do to look like he'd been in bed all afternoon, even if he had.

Draco chose a pair of tapered black trousers and a dark grey roll neck from his new spring wardrobe to wear under his standard Hogwarts robes. He noticed that his trousers were a bit too long, draping over the tops of his shoes. Draco made a mental note to have a stern word with his tailor before he bent to discreetly fold the hems to a more comfortable length. He combed his hair into place with slightly more precision than he normally used, observing that his widow's peak seemed to be misbehaving. It wouldn't do to look like Potter with his untamed mess. Bloody hell, why was the thing being so unreasonable?

After his hair was finally tamed with a quick spell, Draco rubbed a bit of cologne behind his ears and practiced a charming smile in the mirror. The mirror, for its part, sighed in admiration.

"Striking as always, Mr Malfoy," it assured him in a throaty contralto.

Draco straightened his trousers, smoothed his robes down, and walked steadily out of his room, thinking all the while that the Ginny affair was getting too complicated.

It was time to find a new girl.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry was gasping for a smoke.

He had been out most of the night with Hermione, Ron, and Bill looking for Hagrid. There were other people searching as well, but they had their own little group away from everyone else. He couldn't believe that Ron and Hermione had actually managed to be civil to each other for the almost three hours that they'd been out looking.

Colin had taken Ginny to the Infirmary after her spat with Ron, and Hermione had told him to stay with her there until she was healed properly. It wasn't as if she had to ask, Colin would gladly walk over hot coals for Ginny; even if he was queer as a nine bob note. Not that Harry held that against him or anything, but it felt-- well, odd, to say the least. Especially when he remembered the boy's former camera-happy obsession with him.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat and ran a hand through his hair as he waited for Hermione to collect Ginny from Madame Pomfrey. Couldn't she just let Colin walk Ginny back to the tower? He was tired and wet and bloody freezing, which, on top of everything else did nothing for his mood. Harry sighed and pulled out a cigarette. He was in the hallway and, according to his map, Filch was at the other end of the castle. Harry put the cigarette to his lips and drew from it deeply. Then he frowned; the calming charm didn't seem to be working very well and the cigarette was quite stale. But the habit itself was comforting, so he shrugged and continued to smoke, pacing up and down the hallway out of sheer boredom. What the devil was taking so long, anyway?

From inside the Infirmary he could hear firm steps coming toward the door and he quickly pinched his cigarette, popping a mint in his mouth for good measure. Hermione strode through the doors, flanking Ginny with Colin on the other side. Her hair was wild and floated around her head like a nimbus of electric energy. It matched the lightening in her eyes. She was obviously angry about something.

"When I get my hands on Ron, I'm going to tear him in two," she bit out.

"Yeah, elbow him in the corkers for me while you're at it," Ginny muttered.

Harry walked over and put his arm around Hermione, but she wouldn't have any of it and shook him off. She was too angry. It was more than likely a combination of holding her tongue in front of Bill and being reminded of Ginny's injuries again. Hermione suddenly stopped in her tracks and sniffed the air.

Uh oh.

"Have you been smoking, Harry?" she asked pointedly.

Harry considered telling the truth, but in her current state she was likely to rip him apart, so he opted for what sounded like a good lie. "Uh, no. I stopped smoking, you know that."

He forgot that she could always see through his lies.

Hermione pulled his face down to hers and sniffed at his mouth before prodding it open with one of her fingers and pulling out his smoke shop mint. She looked at it with disgust and held it daintily between pointer and thumb. "What's this then?"

"Uh . . ."

"You can't tell me that it's not one of those mints you suck on after you've smoked a cigarette because I can see the writing on still."

And it was true. In ridiculously tiny letters that were only partially eroded it said: 'E&F smoker's mint'. By the look in her eyes, Harry could tell that he was in for a tongue lashing of the most unpleasant sort.

"Perhaps Colin and I should go ahead without yo--"

"You stay precisely where you are!" Hermione screeched at Ginny before turning back to Harry. She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment and her breath was very shallow, as if she was trying to contain her rage, but failing. Harry slowly realised that he had managed to get on her last nerve and this wouldn't be one of her normal tirades. He unconsciously flinched and tried to move away.

"You stay, too, Harry Potter."

There was no way to avoid this, so he sighed and looked down at the ground in a very pathetic manner he hoped would soften her a little. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I know I shouldn't have lied to you about that, but I--"

"Shut up." She cut him off. Harry kept his eyes on the floor while she continued. "This is exactly the reason why I no longer speak to Ron: lies! I think that you owe me a bit more courtesy than that arsehole considering that I'm your bloody girlfriend."

Harry did look up then and his mouth was hanging open in shock. "H-Hermione? Are you feeling all right?"

He could see that Ginny and Colin were equally stunned, but they were quiet. Hermione stood there, staring daggers at his head for a moment before she answered him. "I'm fine."

But Harry could see that she wasn't fine, her hands were clenching and unclenching into fists and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. Hermione sniffed once and just as he was about to put a hand on her shoulder she shook him away. "Just-- just leave me alone for a while. I need to think."

Harry frowned. "Hermione, this isn't just about me smoking, is it? Did I do something else? I mean--"

"It isn't--" She shook her head and sniffled again. Her entire body seemed to slump. "I just have something on my mind, Harry. I need to puzzle this out."

Harry blinked and swallowed; this didn't sound good at all. He nodded and patted her on the shoulder hesitantly, afraid that she would snap again. He trusted Hermione though, so he wouldn't push the issue, as he was sure she would tell him-- in time.

"Go on to the library, then, I know that's where you want to go. I'll let you alone."

Hermione did cry then and she brought his face down to kiss his lips quickly. "Thank you for understanding, Harry. And I'm so very sorry for snapping at you."

He was a bit surprised that she would kiss him in front of Colin and Ginny since they were both very private people and hated public displays of affection. But he smiled and brushed a stray hair out of her face before pressing the Marauder's map into her hand.

"It's all right. You've had a hard day. Just don't stay up in the library too late."

She nodded and squeezed his hand once before racing down the hallway toward the library at unusual speed. When she had gone around the corner Ginny finally spoke.

"I never thought I would see the day when Hermione would swear."

Harry frowned. "Me neither. What happened in the Infirmary?"

Ginny continued to stare at where Hermione had disappeared and rolled her lip between her thumb and forefinger. "Nothing really," she mumbled around the intrusion. "She sat and read a book while my ankle was given a final check over."

"What book?"

"Um." She furrowed her brow in thought. "It was one of the books off of Madame Pomfrey's shelf, I think. In fact, I'm sure it had to have been because Hermione didn't bring any books with her when she came to get Colin and I."

"What on earth could she have read in one of those books to make her so upset?"

"Well," Colin spoke up. "It's not like she needed much to set her off if you think about it. She's been through a lot tonight the same as us. But whatever she read must have upset her because she dropped the book like a hot coal and ran back over to us. Then she noticed Gin's foot again and started talking about how she was going to squish Ron into itty, bitty, bite-sized pieces."

Ginny interrupted him at this point. "Her heart didn't seem to be in it, though. It was more like she was trying to think of something else to distract herself from what really had her worried." She crinkled her nose at Harry. "D'you know what I mean?"

One of the corners of Harry's mouth drooped in a half-frown and he nodded. "I know what you mean. What did the book look like?"

"Just a book; one of those really thick ones that she always reads. Um, brown cloth cover, I think." Ginny patted Harry on the arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch the name of it."

Harry nodded absently. "It's all right. I wonder if Madame Pomfrey would mind if I looked for it."

"Tomorrow, will you? We do have classes in the morning." Colin mentioned this with a pointed glance at his wristwatch.

"Oh right," Harry said. "We should go back to Gryffindor tower, then. Is your ankle good to walk, Ginny?"

"Right as rain."

She smiled tentatively and Harry smiled back, but his heart wasn't in it. His heart was halfway across the castle sitting in a dark, musty library.

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