Expectations and Responsibilities

The end of July had been a nervous time of year lately for Hermione Granger. The summer before fifth year, she eagerly awaited her letter from Professor McGonagall, anxious over whether or not she would be chosen as a prefect. In retrospect, it had been silly to be worked up over things. Of course she'd be chosen over Parvati and Lavender. They were nice girls really, but not prefect material.

The summer before her sixth year had been OWL results. Hermione had been studying non-stop for weeks, with only slight breaks for the whole saving the wizarding world from Voldemort thing, and had hoped dearly that her efforts had paid off. Ron and Harry, of course, had teased her for it. She remembered with pleasure hearing that Ernie Macmillan had been spending eight hours a day studying; at least someone took things seriously. The letter had arrived at Grimmauld Place, where she was staying with Harry and Ron that summer. She had eagerly opened the letters for all three of them, pleased to see that her marks were high enough for NEWT-level courses in Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Transfiguration, Charms, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. She would have also been permitted to enrol in Potions and Herbology had she wanted, but Hermione learned long ago that there was only so much she could expect from herself. A twenty-six hour day was not one of those things.

This July, Hermione waited by the window of her parents' house from twelve to two each afternoon. She had kept careful track each year of what time the owl in question had arrived, and determined that hers would be arriving during the early afternoon. Designating this time for Nervous Waiting allowed Hermione to dedicate the rest of her day to reading up in preparation for the coming year. Her parents had given her money at the beginning of the summer, which she'd promptly taken to Flourish and Blotts to purchase post-graduate level books in each of her chosen subject areas.

It was a warm day, and the windows swung open, the wind blowing the curtains in front of her on the window seat. Hermione leaned against the wall behind her resting Hogwarts, A History on her knees. As she waited, she flipped through her favourite chapters, remembering the founding of the school and imagining what the earliest classes must have been like. She held a quill, making notes in the margin about details she felt the original writers had left out, such as treatment of the house elves, and the subject matter tested on early final exams.

With a whoosh, a brown owl flew straight into the room and came to rest on top of the open page of 'Hogwarts, A History' perched on her lap. Hermione hurriedly reached for the owl treat she'd kept beside her, and snatched the letter from the owl. Realising she had been a bit rough in her haste, she apologised to the owl as it flew back out the window.

The envelope was the same as the one she'd received every year from the school. She knew it would contain the list of books for the coming year - a matter of certain interest - but she felt the weight of the envelope, wondering if there wasn't a second sheet of parchment inside. Shaking it, the contents were unclear.

Unable to wait any longer, Hermione tore open the letter with the letter-opener she had stashed next to the owl treat. The paper ripped loudly, and she pulled the folded, heavy bond paper out. Unfolding it, she saw the welcome to the year blather written in Professor McGonagall's neat, familiar script. Ignoring the usual information, she licked her index finger, prying the paper away from the one behind it.

Without another thought, she tossed the letter aside. Underneath was the list of schoolbooks, usually her favourite part of McGonagall's letter. Today however, she discarded that as well, noticing that there was indeed a third sheet included in the letter.

There it was! She had been chosen after all. Exhaling the breath she'd been holding practically since she saw the owl on the horizon. Hermione stood and clutched the paper to her chest.

She, Hermione Granger, would be Hogwarts' Head Girl.

Taking another deep breath, she directed her attention back to the letter. It congratulated her on her appointment and detailed the expectations upon her for the coming year. She scanned this part quickly, already fully aware of and anticipating the responsibilities of the job. She only hoped it would allow ample time to revise for her NEWTs.

She reread the letter again. Something was missing. "Exemplary student" blah blah blah, "role model," of course, "authority and responsibility." Yes, but who was the Head Boy? Though she would never tell either of her closest friends, Hermione secretly hoped it was Harry. As nice as it would be to work with Ron, she doubted he would be the best Head Boy. While he had certainly matured since she'd first met him, Ron was always better off enjoying himself than enforcing the rules. Harry wasn't exactly a by-the-book student himself, but at least he understood the importance of order. Better than Ron, at least.

Of course, there was always the possibility that the Head Boy was not a Gryffindor. Hermione looked over the letter again, sincerely hoping that her counterpart was not Draco Malfoy. While he had grown into a stickler for rules as a prefect, he was still the same Draco Malfoy: petty, immature, and snobbish. If Hermione had to work with him the entire year, she would scream. Though she imagined even Draco Malfoy's appointment would not be horrid enough to cause her to relinquish the post.

She had worked hard for six years for this. Of course she had been selected as Head Girl.

Ernie Macmillan sat in the living room, studying his father's chess set. It was a routine they had developed that summer. A week earlier, the board had been set up for a game and his father had made the first move before he left for work at the Ministry. Ernie came downstairs to see the nearly clear middle of the board covered with a note from his father. "Your move," it read. Ernie surveyed the board and moved his pawn out to meet his father's.

This had continued over the course of the week, his father making moves in the morning before he left for work and after dinner when he returned. While Mr. Macmillan toiled at the office, Ernie responded to the morning move before he left for the afternoon, and after his parents had gone to bed, exhausted, he came downstairs and moved once again. The game had progressed slowly in this way, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. It seemed the only way Ernie and his father could get the game in.

In the afternoon, Ernie would visit a friend of his father's in his office. Mr. Quigley worked in Outside Communications for the Ministry, and coordinated reports for the press and public at large. His father had suggested Ernie look into this as a possible career, and Ernie had to admit it was somewhat interesting, though he was somewhat concerned that Mr Quigley had worked the same position for thirty years with little sign of advancement.

Having eaten and dressed for work, Ernie had been spending the past twenty minutes staring at the chessboard. Ernie was not sure how he felt about the lack of a time limit. On one hand, it was nice to take a leisurely pace, to plan and strategise with no pressure to move. On the other hand, it took away from one of his favourite things about the game: clarity of thought under pressure. Then again, Ernie found that on holiday afternoons, with his father sitting opposite him, he tended to act rashly only to discover his error several moves later. He was in fact better this way.

Ernie reached his hand out, finally deciding to move his rook, when a brown owl flew through the open window and into the room. It landed right in front of him, knocking several of the pawns to the floor.

Uncharacteristically, Ernie ignored the upset pawns and took the letter from the owl. As he had suspected this time of day - and this time of year - it was addressed to him. Ripping open the envelope, he noticed excitedly that there were, in fact, three pieces of parchment inside. He took them all out and glanced at the first two. The standard stuff, very interesting, but saved until later.

The third sheet, now this was a bit of a surprise. Ernie had hoped, of course, and had known that he was capable of doing a most excellent job. Yet, with the exception of Cedric, it seemed that Hufflepuff house was always being overlooked. He had looked over the records at the beginning of the summer. There had not been a Head Boy from Hufflepuff in thirty-five years.

Until now.

Hermione immediately drafted a letter to Harry and Ron, who were both staying at The Burrow until the middle of August. Rereading it, she thought better of it. If one of the two had been chosen, it would be rather tactless to ask them about it. Each of them had enough trouble not envying what the other had without her bringing this up. She tore up the letter, drafting another one saying things were going very well, that she missed them, and was especially excited for the start of the year and sent that off instead. She would have to wait until September first to find out.

Ernie immediately jumped up to floo his father at the Ministry. On his way to the fireplace, however, his eye caught the chessboard, and he carefully picked up and replaced the pawns, hoping he had each one back in the proper position. Reaching for some powder, he threw it into the fire shouting "Alfred Macmillan, Ministry of Magic."

A young, bespectacled wizard's face appeared in the fire a moment later. "Your father's in a meeting with the assistant minister. Shall I give him a message?"

Ernie thought for a moment. "No. No message." He would tell his father himself.

The man's face disappeared from the fire, and he tossed more powder into the fire. "Roberta Macmillan, Wizarding Wireless Limited."

It took a minute, but his mother's face appeared in the fire. "Mum!" Ernie shouted, his face erupting into a broad smile.

"What is it, Ernie?" his mum asked. She looked interested, but her voice sounded somewhat rushed.

"I've been picked as Head Boy."

Her eyes lit up and she began smiling. "Oh, that's wonderful! Does your father know yet?" Ernie shook his head. "Well, don't tell him. I'll be sure to bring home a special dinner, though. We'll surprise him."

"That sounds great, mum."

"I'm very proud of you. I ought to get back to work, though." She apologised and disappeared.

Ernie turned from the fire. He wondered if maybe, just maybe, Hannah had been picked as Head Girl. Though the chances of two Hufflepuffs did seem quite remote. Deciding to leave off contacting his friends, Ernie returned to the chessboard and moved his rook forward three spaces. He watched as it attacked his father's pawn.

It had been difficult for Hermione to keep the good news to herself when she met Harry and Ron at Diagon Alley in late August. She had originally thought she'd tell them then, but when she saw the look in Harry's face as he hugged Mrs Weasley, and the way Ron's lips quivered when Harry treated himself to a broom-cleaning set, she decided against it. They made plans to meet up at King's Cross-, and Hermione held her tongue, deciding she could handle the suspense until then.

Her parents had driven her to the station, and she kissed them each goodbye as she stepped out onto the curb. Her original plan had been to affix her Head Girl pin onto her clothing, so she wouldn't so much have to tell them as show them. Looking at the silver badge across her red cardigan in the mirror, however, had told her how silly it looked, and she had no desire to wear her school robes through Muggle London.

Putting her luggage onto a cart, she waved goodbye to her mother and father and made her way to Platform 9 ¾. As she crossed through, she noted that Harry and Ron were already there, talking with Ginny and Dean. When they saw her, all four of them waved enthusiastically, Hermione made her way over to them.

Ginny gave her a hug and smiled. "I got my OWL results back, Hermione. Eleven, including O's in Charms and Transfiguration."

"That's great, Ginny. Your parents must have been proud."

A sound something along the lines of "Hrrmph" came from Ron's direction. "More like angry at me for not doing as well as she did."

"You got ten, Ron. That's nothing for them to be mad about," Harry pointed out.

"Not when this one goes and gets eleven," he complained, gesturing towards Ginny.

A whistle blew, and the five of them quickly boarded the train. After searching through the first two cars, they finally found an empty compartment.

Ernie had made his own way to the station, bidding his parents goodbye at breakfast that morning. His older sister Victoria, who was twenty-eight and worked for the Department of Financial Relations, had owled that morning to wish him luck for the year.

He saw Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones talking right near the boundary to the platform when he arrived. He shouted hello and made his way over.

"Well, if it isn't the Head Boy," said Hannah proudly.

"Congratulations," said Susan, hugging him. Ernie had written to them, along with Justin Finch-Fletchley, to tell them the good news over the summer. Neither of the girls had been chosen, though neither had expected to. Hannah, quite frankly, was perfectly happy not to have to worry about the load of responsibilities.

"Do you know who the Head Girl is?" Hannah asked.

"No idea," Ernie admitted. "Though I've been doing some speculation. It's probably one of the prefects. I mean, Head Girl doesn't have to be a prefect, but that's only happened twice in the past thirty years, so I don't figure it very likely. If it's not Hannah, then it's either Hermione Granger, Padma Patil, or Pansy Parkinson."

"I don't think its Pansy," said Susan. "She's got a bit of a temper, and I don't think Dumbledore likes her."

"She's a pretty responsible prefect," Hannah offered.

"That's true," said Ernie, "But I think Susan's right. I mean it's possible, but not likely. Hermione or Padma seem a lot more probable. Both of them are really smart. All the professors like them."

"Except Snape," interrupted Hannah, wrinkling her nose.

"Except Snape," echoed Ernie. The whistle blew, and the three of them made their way onto the train. "I could work with either of them, I guess," Ernie continued as they walked, "But it's too bad it's not either of you."

"I wouldn't want to do it anyway," said Susan. "I'm going to be quite busy running Law Club."

Walking through the train, the three Hufflepuffs looked into the windows of compartments. They passed several crowded with first years, and a few with upperclassmen they didn't really know. A car down, they found Justin Finch-Fletchley, Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein sharing a compartment among the three of them. The three opened the door and happily greeted their school friends.

Hermione looked at her watch. As prefects, they'd always had to make their way to the front compartment by halfway through the journey. She thought as Head Girl, she should allow even more time to discuss things over with the prefects and the Head Boy, whoever he was. They'd been on the train only about fifteen minutes when she stood and told the boys she was changing into her robes.

"Already?" asked Harry.

"Well I'll be very busy dealing with the first years at the end of the trip. Might as well do it now while I have the time."

"Mmm hmm," Ron mumbled, his face never moving from behind the copy of Quidditch This Week that Harry had given him.

When Hermione returned, she wore the new black robes her parents had given her as a gift upon hearing the news. She had carefully pinned her large, silver Head Girl badge onto the front. She closed the door behind her, a bit louder than necessary.

"Oh, it's you," said Harry.

"What, thought it might be Malfoy coming to pick a fight again?" asked Dean.

"You'd think he'd grow up a bit by now..." Ginny said, her voice trailing off as she looked more carefully at Hermione. "Oh," she squealed. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Hermione responded, blushing, but proud nonetheless.

"Well done, Hermione," Ron added.

"Yeah. I think we all always knew, though," Harry said as she sat back down next to him.

"So who's the Head Boy?" Ron asked.

She looked at him. "I have no idea. The letter didn't say."

"Well, your prefect letter didn't say the others either, did it?" Harry pointed out.

"Right," said Hermione.

"Oh, I hope it's not Malfoy," Ginny groaned. "It'd be just like him to buy his way into something like that."

Hermione looked at her friends. "It's not one of you then?" The boys shook their heads. "Oh. I was hoping."

"Better this way," Harry assured her. "It'd be nice and all, but I'm busy with the DA, and Ron's going to be Quidditch captain."

"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione. "That's wonderful."

"Yeah," said Ron proudly. "Katie Bell wrote to me just last week to let me know. Couldn't have done it any later, could she?"

"Have to find a complaint with everything, don't you?" said Ginny with a smile.

So it wasn't Harry or Ron, Hermione thought. Then who? She supposed it was one of the other prefects: Anthony Goldstein or Ernie Macmillan, or, if merit was no longer looked on as any sort of criterion, Draco Malfoy. Hermione mulled this over in her mind for a while, noticing that the others had moved on to discussing plans for the year. Pushing the nagging question to the back of her mind, Hermione joined the conversation for the next hour or so.

Glancing at her watch again, she decided it was time to head to the front of the train. The trolley witch had already passed by, and she hoped she hadn't spent too long catching up with her friends.

A couple of first years were talking in the corridor as she made her way to the front of the train. "Excuse me?" she said, leaning down to speak to the two small boys, remembering that once, she too had been that young. How you've grown, Hermione, she thought to herself, remembering the ordeal with Neville's toad. "Can I help you with anything?"

One of the boys answered her in a quiet voice. "He's just a little worried," the boy explained, gesturing towards his friend. His voice dropped even quieter, to a whisper. "He's Muggle-born."

Hermione smiled at the two boys. "That's nothing to worry about. I was a Muggle-born first year myself once. A bit overwhelming, hey?"

The silent boy smiled and nodded. "Don't worry about anything. It's not so scary as the older students tell you. They're just being dramatic."

Hermione kneeled down and put her arm around the two children. Kids had never really been her thing, but she'd come to learn that if you treated them as you'd treat anyone, just a bit smaller, that usually worked rather well.

The door to the railcar opened, and Ernie Macmillan walked in. Seeing three small figures clustered together, he puffed out his chest, just a bit, and approached them. "Is there something I can help you with?" he asked.

He was taken a bit aback when he noticed that the girl in the middle was not a first year, but Hermione Granger, kneeling down to talk to the two small boys. "Nothing to worry about," Hermione said, not betraying the worried expressions the boys had shown minutes before. She looked up at Ernie and noticed the gleaming silver badge pinned to the front of his robe.

"You're Head Boy, Ernie?" She asked.

"Yes, I am," he said, unable to keep himself from smiling yet again at the thought.

"I was just going to make my way up to the front. You know, meet with the prefects..."

"Oh..." It was Hermione then, and not Padma, Ernie thought. He should have known. "Would you like to walk together?" he asked her.

"Sure." She turned to the first-years beside her. "You boys all right to go back to your compartment now?"

The boys nodded enthusiastically and hugged her before running off. They were running going a bit too fast for her tastes, but she restrained herself from telling them to slow down.

Ernie let the boys pass, smiling as he walked across the railcar to Hermione. "Comforting the first years already?" he asked.

"You know, it reminded me of how nervous I was when I first came here. Not that I let anyone know about that." She let herself laugh at the memory.

Ernie nodded knowingly. "My sister Victoria had graduated before I even started. It was nice to have someone beside my parents who'd been through it all before, but I guess it would have been nicer to have someone here to show me the ropes. Then again, it's nice to not have so recent a shadow to be under."

"Mmm," agreed Hermione, to none of his points in particular.

The two of them proceeded to the front of the train. In the very front, there was one compartment, which was completely empty despite the crowds elsewhere on the train. Ernie put his hand on the doorknob and opened it. It was larger than the others, with seats arranged around a circular table. The Head Boy and Girl entered, and sat at the table, facing the door.

"Right, then," began Ernie. "The prefects should be meeting us as we get closer."

"I'd expect so," said Hermione.

"Right," Ernie said. "Well then, I guess we should know what we're going to tell them."

Hermione nodded. "Well, we should start by having everyone introduce themselves, and congratulating the new fifth year prefects. We should outline expectations for the year-"

"Yes," said Ernie, "They really should know they're the prefects of the school and are expected to act that way."

"Mmm hmm. We should go over responsibilities." Hermione looked over to notice that Ernie had taken out a quill and parchment, and had begun dipping his quill in a small inkpot, ready to take notes.

He looked up at her expectantly. "So, expectations and responsibilities. What exactly are they?"

"Good point. Well, they're expected to obey all school rules, treat other students and professors with respect, and take their responsibility seriously. That's an important one."

"Yes, yes, it is. And responsibilities?"

Hermione thought for a minute. "Enforce school policies, of course."

Ernie nodded, his quill scribbling furiously on the parchment. Hermione listened, enjoying the delicate and productive sound of the quill scratching across the surface.

"What about be there for students who need them? You know if people are having problems or issues."

"Yes," Hermione chimed in. "That's true, though some prefects are more suited to that than others." Hermione wondered whether she would ever go to Ron for advice and support if she was having personal problems. He had always been a good friend to her, but sometimes he did have the knack for saying the wrong thing at just the wrong time.

They turned as the latch on the door clicked open, and three of the sixth year prefects walked in. Hermione and Ernie both turned to them and smiled, welcoming them back to Hogwarts. More and more of the prefects streamed into the compartment over the next few minutes, until it was time to start the meeting.

Expectations for the year were outlined, responsibilities were discussed, and each of the prefects was given specific assignments for the first few days of school. Before leaving, the students pulled out their date books and set a meeting for the following Sunday evening.

By the time all business had been attended to, the train was slowing into Hogsmeade station. Ernie declared the meeting adjourned, and the prefects filed out to make sure all the first years ended up where they were supposed to go.

Smiling goodbye to Ernie, Hermione caught up with Ron on the way out. "So," Ron said smiling, "Not Draco Malfoy then."

"No. I think Ernie will be great, though. He's very responsible, even if he is a bit showy about it."

Ron just stared at her.

Ernie and Hannah followed a group of excited fifth-year prefects off of the train and towards the horseless carriages. He remembered learning in his fifth year that the carriages were actually pulled by magical creatures called Threstrals, but Ernie had always found this difficult to believe. If something could not be seen, who was to say it was really there? Of course, other people could see it, but still...

Ernie felt a hand on his shoulder as he fell into the crowd of returning students waiting for carriages. Turning around, he smiled when he saw who was beside him.

"Hiya, Justin!"

"Head Boy, eh, Ernie?"

Ernie just nodded and smiled. "Head Boy."

"That's really great. You know," Justin said, sighing. "I bet I would have been Head Boy if I'd gone to Eton. My father and uncle both were."

"Yeah, but then you wouldn't be here with us," Ernie said.

"True,"

"Very true," agreed Hannah, putting her arm around Justin. Ernie noticed his fingers winding their way through her wavy, blonde hair, and the way she let her head rest on his shoulder.

"So," Ernie said, "is this new then?"

Hannah and Justin looked at each other and giggled. "Is it... is it all right with you?" Hannah asked nervously. Ernie and Hannah had dated briefly; back in fifth year, during that time when it seemed everyone was going through awkward yet convenient relationships for the sake of feeling older. She had been his first kiss, which he'd always remember as a nice feeling, but all in all was more than happy they'd come out of the ordeal still friends.

"Ernie?" asked Justin.

Ernie looked up, having been lost in his thoughts momentarily. "As long as you two are happy," he said, with a distant smile on his face.

The three of them climbed into a carriage together, along with a girl Ernie recognised from Oration Club as a sixth-year Ravenclaw named Melina Grant, and began discussing the sorting, hoping that there would be plenty of new and enthusiastic Hufflepuffs that year.

As dinner was ending, Ernie felt someone tapping him on his shoulder. Before turning around, he thought to himself that he had been very much in demand that day. Turning his body away from the table, he found himself looking into the cheery face of Professor Sprout, his head of house.

"Mr Macmillan," she said, her tone as friendly as always (well, except for when she was admonishing him for trying to do Herbology without getting his hands dirty). "Professor Dumbledore would like to see you after the feast."

"Yes, Professor," Ernie replied. Knowing he wasn't in trouble or anything, it felt very nice to have his presence requested by the Headmaster.

As the students became more and more stuffed and finally slid their plates towards the middle of the table, Ernie leaned across the table to Hannah.

"Hannah, will you make sure that the prefects get all the younger students up to the dormitory after dinner? I'm supposed to go and see Dumbledore."

"Sure, Ernie," Hannah said.

As the prefects dealt with the first years and other young ones, Ernie made his way out a different door of the Great Hall, and up the staircase he knew usually lead to Dumbledore's office.

He found himself before the door to Dumbledore's office, where Hermione and Professor McGonagall were waiting.

"All right," said McGonagall, in her typically businesslike voice. "The password for this year is 'Granny Smith Apple,'" she whispered to the two of them.

"Granny Smith Apple?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, well Professor Dumbledore has decided to go on a diet."

Hermione nodded, trying fervently to avoid a smile.

Ernie could not help but stare in awe at the surroundings as he and Hermione made their way up the spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office. The office reminded him of his room as a child. Not so much messy as cluttered with an endless supply of fascinating objects. Now, of course, Ernie's room was no longer cluttered, and what interesting artefacts there were kept in the correct drawers.

"Good evening," Dumbledore's deep voice came from behind his desk.

The two students wished him a good evening in return.

"Don't look so shocked, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said suddenly. "Professor McGonagall only thinks I've given up my sweets. She of all people should know better than to deprive an old man of his pleasures."

Ernie nervously nodded his head, yet noted that Hermione was smiling openly.

He felt Dumbledore's eyes on him and instinctively stood up straight, looking back at the man who had done so much in his years. "Congratulations to both of you, Miss Granger and Mr Macmillan. There were many excellent people we could have chosen for your position, this year, but in the end, we have chosen the two of you. I am quite confident you will be able to hold up the responsibilities of this post, though I would like you to know that I, as well as your Heads of House, are here for you if there is ever anything you do not feel able to handle on your own. Asking for help is not an admission of failure, but an acknowledgement that some things are too daunting to deal with on one's own. Be sure to use each other as resources throughout the year as well. Do either of you have any questions?"

Ernie nearly laughed when he saw that Hermione was raising her hand. He tapped her quickly in the side and she blushed, lowering her arm. "Professor Dumbledore... I was just wondering if there were any formal guidelines? Like a book we can read up on?"

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes sparkling as he looked back at her. "You shall receive full instructions on exactly what is expected of you by owl tomorrow morning. If you have any problems with these instructions, please contact either myself or Professor McGonagall as soon as possible."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Professor."

Ernie looked at Professor Dumbledore, not positive his question was appropriate, but unable to hold back his curiosity. "How were the Head Boy and Girl chosen, Professor?"

"Ah," Dumbledore began, with a mystic-looking smile on his face. "I'm sure you'll see that for yourself as the year goes on."

As they were heading back towards their dorms, Ernie turned to Hermione and spoke in a conspirational tone. "He certainly can be strange sometimes."

Hermione looked somewhat offended. "Dumbledore is the best headmaster this school has ever had."

"Well, I know that," Ernie responded immediately. "He's done more than any witch or wizard since Helga Hufflepuff."

He heard the sound of her laughing quietly under her breath. "Well, I don't know that I'd go that far."

Knowing he'd left out many powerful if non-Hufflepuff witches and wizards during the time span, Ernie was not offended to note her amusement. "Hey," he said playfully, "we Hufflepuffs need someone to look up to."

Hermione looked slightly taken aback. "I only meant...." she thought for a second. "Well, I'm not quite sure what I meant..."

Hermione had to admit that she loved running prefect meetings with Ernie. The two of them seemed to be on the same page about the issues at hand, and let things dissolve into friendly conversation only often enough to keep a good working environment. Most people seemed to grumble all day Sunday about how the weekly meeting interrupted their last minute work before Monday morning, yet Hermione truly enjoyed it. Afterwards, when she walked back up to Gryffindor Tower with Ron, it felt like their time to catch up on the events of the week, even if Hermione found herself spending half the time reminding Ron that it was his own fault he still had two foot-long parchments due the following morning.

Several meetings into the year, however, Ernie called out to her on her way out.

"Hermione!"

She and Ron turned around simultaneously. "Hermione," the Head Boy continued, "It's Susan Bones' seventeenth birthday, big occasion you know, and I was wondering if you wanted to come to the Hufflepuff common room to celebrate with us. Don't worry; Susan suggested I invite you up. You're welcome too, Ron, if you'd like."

"Oh, that's so nice of both of you. I'd love to come," said Hermione.

"I don't know," said Ron grudgingly. "I've got a lot of work to do."

"Go ahead then, Ron," said Hermione. "You really ought to get to work on the Defence Against the Dark Arts essay. It took me over four hours, and it's already nine o'clock. I'll catch up with you at breakfast, if you're awake by then."

"Highly doubtful," muttered Ron as he turned and headed back to Gryffindor tower.

"He hasn't started the essay?" asked Ernie incredulously. "It was assigned last Wednesday."

"I just started yesterday," said Hannah. "I mean, I felt bad putting it off, but I don't see how you can get work done that early. There are so many other things to be doing."

"To each his own," sighed Ernie as the three seventh-years headed towards the Hufflepuff common room.

Hermione had been to the Hufflepuff common room before, though only very briefly and with specific reasons to be there. She'd never stopped to look around. Unlike the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw common rooms, which were nestled in towers above the castle and the Slytherin common room down in the dungeons, the Hufflepuff common room was placed at ground level. It faced a grassy area behind the Hogwarts castle that was edged with tall and majestic trees. The outside wall was lined with windows, which stretched floor to ceiling and seemed to rest upon the grass. A fire burned in a red brick fireplace, and several students gathered around on wooden rocking chairs and fluffy upholstered sofas. It was not as impressive-looking as Gryffindor Tower, Hermione thought, yet it had a beauty and a comfort all its own.

"Hermione," said Susan, "come over and join the party." Realising she must have seemed awfully exclusive looking around by herself, Hermione walked over to the fireplace and grabbed a chair between Ernie and Justin.

"Happy birthday, Susan," said Hermione with a smile. "I'm sorry I didn't bring you anything. I didn't know."

"That's fine," said Susan, gesturing to the large pile of brightly wrapped boxes on the floor beside her. "I think I have enough as it is. Frankly, I'm so glad to finally be of age, I couldn't care what else I get."

"That's true," said Hermione, thinking back to her own birthday a few weeks earlier. It had been nice to know that, whatever happened, she could now use magic when necessary. She'd always thought that the law allowed for extreme circumstances, yet after what had happened to Harry in fifth year, turning seventeen had seemed like an even more important landmark.

"Here," said Justin, handing her a plate with a delicious-looking piece of chocolate cake on it, "Have some of this. Hannah's mum sent it this morning."

"Thanks," said Hermione, taking the cake. It was, in fact, delicious. Mrs Granger would never send her something so sweet and tasty, and Hermione never thought to treat herself to desserts.

"I know," said Hannah. "We should play truth or dare."

"Hannah," Justin said with a good-natured groan, "Aren't we a bit old for that?"

"Well, yes. But it's fun. I'll start. Terry, truth or dare?"

Terry Boot peered out from his place beside Susan on the yellow sofa. "Truth."

Hannah let her eyes dart around the room momentarily before turning to ask her question. "Do you like anyone who's in this room?"

"That's two questions," Terry pointed out. "Yes to the first, but I don't have to answer the second."

"Fine then, it's your turn," said Hannah.

"Ernie, truth or dare?"

Ernie thought for a few seconds before finally, tentatively answering, "Dare."

"Drat," said Terry. "I didn't have one of those thought up." Hermione looked over at Susan next to him, noticing that she seemed to be locking eyes with Hannah Abbot. A moment later, Susan leaned over and whispered something in Terry's ear. "OK. I dare you to kiss..." he paused, looking around the six of them gathered there, "Hermione."

Hermione thought she noticed Ernie's face pale somewhat, thinking that she was quite likely doing the same. It wasn't that she'd never been kissed before; it had just never been like this.

"Don't you think we're a little old for this?" asked Ernie. "I mean we're mature enough that kissing really shouldn't be that big of a deal. I should think that I could work out who I want to kiss without the aid of some thirteen-year-old's game." Though Hermione felt that Ernie was vocalising her own thoughts precisely, she also noticed a slight sinking feeling in her stomach.

"You know," said Hermione quickly, "I really ought to get going anyways. Classes early tomorrow." She stood up, leaving the plate and fork on her chair. "Happy birthday, Susan. And thanks so much for the cake." Before things could get any more awkward, Hermione left the Hufflepuffs and returned to Gryffindor Tower.

When she returned, she said a quick goodnight to Harry and Ron, assuring Ron that the party was nice, but small and he really didn't miss anything, before going straight to bed.

Between keeping up in five NEWT-level classes and her Head Girl responsibilities, Hermione found herself spending less and less time in Gryffindor Tower. One night in early October, after helping a second year Slytherin to return home to a family emergency, she returned to the Common room near midnight to find Harry and Ron chatting by the fire.

"I feel like we never see her anymore, Harry. She always was a bit caught up in school and everything, but sometimes I think she thinks she's too good for us." Knowing what she should do was make her presence either known or scarce, Hermione nonetheless remained in the corner by the door, watching the backs of her friends heads and listening.

"I'm sure she doesn't mean it, Ron. She's just very busy."

"Too busy for her friends?" She knew she'd been neglected them of late, but surely Ron knew it wasn't purposeful. Yet he seemed so angry. As if it were her fault that she had so many important commitments.

"I miss her too. But if you really feel upset about it, maybe you should just tell her."

Ron's voice sounded shocked. "Tell her?"

"She's not going to run away. She's Hermione."

"I know she's Hermione." Ron said, groaning.

"Look," Harry said impatiently, "if you're just going to sit around here like a fourth year, nothing's going to change, and nothing will change. You'll see her in Defence and in Charms, and at meals, and then we'll all graduate. If that's what you want, by all means, stay here." Harry stood up, and Hermione found herself backing against the corner wall as flat as she could. "I, for one, don't have the patience to listen to this seven nights a week if you're not going to do anything." Picking up the textbook, which Hermione would have bet anything, had gone all night unread. Harry started up the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

"Wait!" Exclaimed Ron, standing. "You're right. I will tell her," he said, while gathering up his stuff and following Harry to the stairway. "Tomorrow."

Hermione could have sworn she heard a very loud sigh as she finally crossed the common room and made her way to bed.

Ernie loved being in the Hufflepuff common room, surrounded by friends. He always found himself the centre of attention, the one telling the stories and giving advice. So what if he was recounting incident that everyone else had been present at, or if his advice wasn't always the most thought through. His friends did love him, and accepted him and his faults. On his best days, he was completely oblivious to the fact that he occasionally grated on them, and on his worst he still knew, deep in his heart, that they would always be there for him.

Such were Hufflepuffs. At times he knew his house was not the most renowned or storied of the four, yet he wouldn't trade the people he'd lived with the past six years for anything. Lately, however, he found himself spending more and more time away from them, studying in the library, supervising the prefects, attending meetings with the faculty, and dealing with the minor everyday incidents that always begged his attention.

When he was in his favourite overstuffed chair by the fire, he noticed that things had seemed to change. Justin and Hannah, as much as he loved them, were starting to bore him. They sat on the far couch together, their heads huddled together and their conversations in whispers. Each of them on their own was great, yet together; they seemed to exclude the rest of the world from their collective cuteness.

Susan, who he had always found intelligent, fair and reliable, had started seeing Terry Boot in Ravenclaw, and seemed to be around even less than Ernie was. Even when she was there, he found that she gushed about Terry far too much. Ernie liked Terry very much, but to be honest, could list many, many more interesting topics of conversation.

A couple of weeks before Halloween, Ernie was sitting in his favourite chair, for all intents and purposes alone, reading his History of Magic textbook. As much as Ernie had wanted to drop History in favour of something more interesting and practical, his father had made it clear that anyone who wished to advance within the Ministry was unlikely to do so without a thorough knowledge of the history of the wizarding world. Ernie sighed, and continued to read about the Congregation of the Half-breeds in 1550, and how the ministry reacted at the time. It was tedious stuff, full of declarations and treaties, with nothing of substance actually occurring.

Ernie looked up to see Hannah and Justin enter the common room hand in hand. He watched silently as Justin walked her to the stairs up to the girls' dormitory before kissing her goodnight. Hannah gave an absolutely adorable little wave to him as he watched her ascend. Quickly turning away before Justin could catch his eyes, Ernie tried to immerse himself in the technicalities of the Vampire Truce of 1551.

Wishing Ernie a friendly goodnight, Justin walked back to the stairs to his own dormitory. Slamming his book, Ernie had a sudden revelation. Why had this not occurred to him before? He was jealous.

It was Ernie who had been avoiding Justin and Hannah, not the other way around. He was bothered by their closeness and their happiness together. They were the same Justin and Hannah, sweet and friendly. He'd been distant and busy and, most of all, jealous.

Hermione was leaving for breakfast the morning after her foray into eavesdropping when she noticed Ron catching up with her on her way out. Knowing full well he never woke up as early as she did, Hermione felt acutely aware of what was coming.

"Hermione!" He shouted as she slowed to let him catch up.

"Yes, Ron?"

"I... I was wondering if you might... be interested in... well, there's usually a Hogsmeade trip coming up soon, isn't there?"

"Yes," Hermione responded automatically. "Next Saturday."

"Well... I was wondering... would you want to go with me?"

She frowned and shook her head. "Ernie and I have to keep an eye on the third years. Make sure they stay where they should be and everything. We also have to make sure that the younger students don't try to sneak out and that everyone gets back on time." She looked at him again. "I mean if you want to tag along with us, I'm sure that'll be fine."

He looked downtrodden and somewhat miffed as they reached the doors to the great hall. "No, I wouldn't want to tag along."

"Sit with me, Ron?" She asked, leading him to a deserted section at the end of the Gryffindor table. He nodded.

She knew what she wanted to say, but had little idea how to get it across. Sitting, she watched as he sat and began eating. Even at such a time, his appetite refused to let up. Hermione, on the other hand, merely picked at a plain piece of toast and pushed around the scrambled eggs on her plate.

"Ron, we're friends, right?"

"Yeah," Ron answered unenthusiastically. "Friends."

"I really do like being your friend. I just... I've been so busy with everything this year, and to make it work as more than that, it would take a lot of work, and I'd have to be really sure it's what I wanted. And while it's not something I don't want, I don't think I want it enough." She'd said what she wanted to say, but she wasn't sure it made any sense whatsoever. "Do you understand, Ron? I like you, I really do, and I want to be your friend. I do."

He looked up at her and nodded before returning to his breakfast sausage. He understood, she knew. She knew him well, and knew he would get over it eventually, but not yet.

Ancient Runes was a subject, which required patience and hard work. Whereas talent could enable a student to perfect a charm or transfiguration with little practice, natural talent was little advantage in Runes. As such, it was a favourite elective among the Hufflepuffs, but still a very small NEWT class.

Ernie arrived in class with Justin and Hannah, glad to see that his realisation had led to a renewed friendliness between the three of them. They had admitted that they'd thought he was angry, and he admitted that he'd been inadvertently avoiding them. It was a difficult admission to make, as they all are, but Ernie gritted his teeth and told them the truth as soon as he knew it himself.

He sat in the second row beside Justin and waited for the rest of the class to fill up. Just before the lesson started, Hermione rushed in and took the last chair in the row. Ernie turned and smiled at her. She smiled back, whispering that she'd been in the library working on Arithmancy and had lost track of the time.

Ernie nodded and dipped his quill in the parchment, taking diligent notes as the lecture began. Wishing he were more artistic, he copied down the Egyptian Hieroglyphics and their definitions. This really was much easier to remember than the Celtic runes, which bore little visual resemblance to the things they represented.

Class passed fairly quickly, as it usually did for Ernie when he concentrated fully on taking perfect and thorough notes. As he stood up to leave, he felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder. He tried to recall if they'd shared any physical contact before, and found himself surprised to rack his brain over it. It was a meaningless gesture, he was sure.

"Are you free next period, Ernie?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. It's my only free period today though, so I was hoping to be productive. Though if there's something you want to do..." he found his voice trailing off uncharacteristically.

"Well, it's almost midterms. I was thinking we could make up some study guides. Unless you have other ideas."

"No, that sounds great, Hermione. Have I ever showed you the way I organise my notes? I like to go back through by date and then rewrite everything, but organise it alphabetically by topic. That way, it's easier to look things back up later."

"But what about when the exam isn't cumulative? What do you do then?" she asked as they left the classroom and headed towards the library.

"Well, I do keep the dates of the lectures on the recopied notes to be sure, but it doesn't ever hurt to study too much, does it?"

Hermione laughed, and Ernie felt himself somewhat warm on the inside as he watched the sound escape her lips. His palms were inexplicably clammy as she led him to a table in the back of the library.

He pulled out his Ancient Runes notes and a fresh quill and parchment when he noticed that she seemed somewhat distracted.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"I was just thinking."

"Thinking is good," Ernie replied awkwardly.

"Have you ever had a friend, who you knew was your friend, and knew you could rely on, suddenly want to change things? And you feel like you could see what he's talking about, but you just don't want to change things, you want to keep them the way they are?"

Ernie shook his head. Part of him wished earnestly that he could be of more help, and the other half found itself hoping she wasn't talking about him.

She seemed to sense his discomfort at her vagueness. "I mean, I guess I've suspected Ron liked me, you know, as a girl, for awhile now, and I finally found out yesterday. This morning, he tried to tell me himself. I didn't want to hurt him, but I think I did. I just... I mean. I'd love to date him. He's sweet and nice and everything, but I'm so busy, I just don't have time to make a relationship work. This is real life, not a fairy tale. Just because two people like each other doesn't mean it will work. It takes time and effort, and I just don't think I want to do that when I'm still so happy just being his friend. But... but I think I hurt him."

Ernie turned and looked her in the eyes, which seemed slightly watery but far from letting those tears drop to her cheeks. "Well, you told him the truth, right? Just what you told me." She nodded. "It may hurt, but if it's the truth... it's always better off being direct with people. It'll save a lot in the future. I mean, if you did tell him you wanted to date him, and ended up not wanting to, it could ruin things for your friendship in the future. He'll realise it wasn't going to work, and eventually get over it."

"That's what I thought," Hermione said. "He just seemed very distant and kind of mad this morning. It made me wonder if I'd done the right thing."

He put his hand on hers. "I think you did the right thing." Her hand felt warm underneath hers, and nice. Ernie found himself forgetting about his clammy palms, though his heart continued to race.

"All right," Ernie spoke up, after feeling nothing but her soft hand in his for several long seconds. "Studying."

"Yes," Hermione answered briskly, sitting up straight in her chair. "Studying."

When Hermione returned to Gryffindor tower, she tried to sit by the fire and hang out with Harry and Ron as she always had. She really did. Ernie was right, she had done the right thing for her and for Ron and, most importantly, for their friendship. Ron, however, avoided her eyes and spoke mostly to Harry, trying to draw him into a private conversation about Quidditch; something he knew well did not interest Hermione. Feeling out of place beside the two of them, she made her way back to the seventh year girls' room, which she was glad to find deserted.

Things had changed, then. They would change back. They would, Hermione assured herself. The more she thought about it, though, the more she worried. They were seventh years, and Harry and Ron were busy with Quidditch and the DA, and Hermione was busy being Head Girl and with classes. After June, who knows if they'd see each other much anymore? She'd always assumed they would, that they'd be Harry, Ron and Hermione forever. Yet, they were getting older, time was moving faster, and they were moving apart. She knew they were, as much as she wanted to ignore it.

Ron would get over things eventually, though how long would that take? Would it be weeks, or even months? Would he be able to look at her without hurt in his eyes again before they graduated and went their separate ways? Hermione found herself cursing inside her head and striking angrily at her pillow. Ernie had been right, right? He'd sounded so sensible earlier in the library, he had been sensible, and so had she. Yet it seemed that sensible was not leading to the optimal conclusion.

What was the optimal conclusion?

She sat down on her bed, pulling out her Ancient Runes notes. Opening to the back pages, she looked over the notes she'd recopied with Ernie earlier that afternoon in the library. Alphabetical... it seemed silly somehow, like it wasn't the best way to study for the exams. Looking over the recopied notes, however, she realised that this way was much better off for revisiting the notes and looking things up later, just to know them. Hermione found herself wondering if Ernie knew what he wanted to do after graduating Hogwarts.

Was that where all her time had gone this year? It had gone fast, and it had been busy. Hermione thought back over the past weeks though, and realised how much of it she'd spent with the Head Boy. There were meetings, of course, but they also tended to the younger students together, and now had started studying together. As much as she missed Harry and Ron's company, she realised that she had been quite enjoying herself this year. She was busy, but she liked it that way. She hadn't had much time to spend with her friends, yet all in all, she really hadn't felt lonely.

After Ancient Runes, Hermione found herself waiting behind for Ernie. She watched as he started to walk out with Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott, and only at the last minutes got up the courage to call out to him.

"Ernie? I was wondering, I wanted to talk to you about the prefects' schedules."

"Oh, sure," he said, turning around and smiling. He turned back to Hannah and Justin, bidding them goodbye, and returned to the classroom. Hermione stayed at her desk and waited for him to sit next to her while the rest of the class left.

"You wanted to talk to me, right?" Ernie asked, unsure of why she was waiting so long. The prefect schedules weren't a matter for the entire school, but they weren't a secret either.

She turned to him, and placed her hand on the desk, looking at him. To Ernie, it appeared as if she half-expected him to place his hand on top of it. Unsure, he placed his hand on the desk as well, letting it sit an inch or so away from hers.

"You know how there's a Hogsmeade weekend this Saturday?" she started, and then quickly continued. "And how we're supposed to stay behind and check that no one unauthorised leaves and gather everyone at the end of the day, and all that?"

He nodded. "That's what we're supposed to do for all the Hogsmeade weekends."

"Yes, yes it is." She paused a moment before speaking again. "Well, I was wondering if... in between all those responsibilities and everything... if you wanted to hang out with me."

"Of course I'd like to hang out with you," said Ernie. "We only spend about six hours a day together."

She pursed her lips together before responding. "Yes, but I was wondering if you might want to hang out in a different way... like on a date..."

Ernie looked at their hands a mere inch apart from each other on the worn wooden desk. He brought his hand the short distance and clasped it around hers. "But what about Ron? I thought you said you couldn't commit the sort of time."

Hermione looked sheepishly into his eyes. "That is what I said, and what I thought, too. But I realised... well I'm already putting in the time with you."

He smiled as he felt his hand in hers. "Convenience then?" he teased in a falsely light-hearted tone of voice.

"No," she said firmly. "So much more than that," she answered, little doubt in her voice as she leaned in and kissed him.