The Silent Siege

Chapter 9

Ships that Pass in the Night

A white knuckle double potions session on Friday afternoon finally came to an end and the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term rolled around. The Gryffindor common room was alive with chatter on Friday night, especially among the excited third years who were visiting Hogsmeade for the first time. Seamus was doing his best to take over the role of the now absent Fred and George in describing with great embellishments the numerous attractions and threats Hogsmeade presented. Anyone who listened to him would have thought that Hogsmeade was the last amusement park on earth rather than a small wizarding-only village.

The third years woke up early on Saturday morning for their first visit. It was nearly mid-morning, however, before Harry and Ron, after staying up late talking about a rumored Quidditch-only store that had just opened, finally made their way down to the Gryffindor common room where Hermione and Ginny were waiting.

"Of course," Hermione was saying, earning a silent groan from Harry, as the four Gryffindors walked down out of the main doors and across the grounds. "I'll be looking for some extra supplies for our action at the ball."

"I didn't know they had an explosives shop in Hogsmeade," retorted Ron.

"Actually, I was thinking of the joke shop," replied Hermione, grateful to have earned Ron's curiosity.

Harry was wracking his brains to think of a way to change the topic of conversation. He wished Hermione and Ron could get through one day without talking about S.P.E.W. or maybe even without trying to goad one another into an argument. Fortunately, Ginny seemed to be thinking along the same lines and entertained the trio of friends for the remainder of the journey with her deadpan imitations of Professor Umbridge.

"Or how about this one," Ginny was saying. She cleared her throat. "Hem, hem. Why," she started in a falsely sweet voice that was chillingly similar to their former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts. "Draco, I do believe those bat bogeys do wonders for your complexion. Now stand still, dear, while I kiss them all off."

Ron and Harry made a face while Hermione giggled.

"It'll just take - "

Ginny suddenly let out a small cry and clutched her forehead.

At first, no one reacted, merely assuming this was part of the performance but when Ginny continued to clutch her head after a few seconds, they started to grow concerned.

"Ginny, are you all right?" asked Hermione.

Ginny let out another cry as though someone was stabbing with a needle, her face closed tightly in pain. Ron, Hermione, and Harry crouched around her in concern as she bent down, holding her knees. After a brief moment, however, she stood up straight again, still rubbing her head.

"I don't know," she said, suddenly serious. "My forehead just started hurting. It seems all right now. Perhaps I haven't had very much sleep lately."

"Old Umbridge must have put a curse on this spot," joked Ron, without smiling.

Hermione's brow suddenly creased with curiosity as she looked up to see the wrought-iron gates and flying boars that marked the entrance to the school grounds.

"I wonder," she said as Ginny continued to rub her head.

"What?" asked Harry.

"No, I suppose it couldn't be," replied Hermione, an infuriatingly vacant expression on her face.

Ron looked a little impatient but Harry and Ginny just shrugged. Then when it seemed that Ginny had suffered no lasting harm, the four Gryffindors continued to make their way down to Hogsmeade. They started to talk again after a few moments of silence but Ron couldn't help but notice that his sister did not seem quite as energetic as she had when they had first started out and she did not continue her impersonations of Umbridge, as though taking his quip to heart.

It wasn't long before the first Hogsmeade buildings started to come into view. They passed the Shrieking Shack first and then Trans-figuration, the clothing store (Hermione said that they could visit there later, earning a suspicious glance from Ron). The street soon began to fill up with Hogwarts students, wearing a varied mix of casual robes and even Muggle pullovers and jeans in contrast to the typical uniform black of their school robes. Hermione noted with disapproval that lime green and canary yellow striped knee-length socks had come back into fashion once again.

"Hello, there, Gryffindors!" said a gravelly voice.

Hermione jumped back a little and all of the Gryffindors looked to their left to see Lord Ravenhurst staring back at them. Lord Ravenhurst was the portrait that marked the entrance to the only all-wizard public lavatory in Britain. Lord Ravenhurst was invariably jolly and seemed to pride himself on remembering the names of all the students and staff. Indulging Lord Ravenhurst in conversation was an acknowledged rite of passage for all third years but most of the older students tried to avoid him if possible. He was also known to chastise frequent visitors with sayings like "too much Butterbeer's not good for the liver, you know." He was partnered on the other side of the building by Lady Picklewick, a demure portrait with a drawn face and a high backed collar who marked the entrance to the only all-witch public lavatory in Britain. Unlike Lord Ravenhurst, Lady Picklewick rarely said a word. There had been talk of removing Lord Ravenhurst a few years before when, in a particularly frisky mood, he had attempted to move into Lady Picklewick's portrait and she, while trying to escape, had moved back into his. This had generated a great deal of embarrassed confusion.

"Hello, Lord Ravenhurst," said Harry, "enjoying the day?"

Lord Ravenhurst frowned. "The third years don't seem quite so sociable this year. I'm afraid someone might have warned them."

Harry was about to reply when he felt Ron tugging on the sleeve of his sweater. He was about to ask what the matter was when a truly bizarre sight reached his eyes. Looking back at Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, he could see that they were all thinking exactly the same thing. Walking up the high street in the opposite direction was Luna Lovegood, wearing the strangest costume Harry had yet seen her in: her customary necklace of Butterbeer bottle caps graced the top of a halter top and mini skirt that seemed to be made from pasted together clippings of The Daily Prophet. The wizards and witches on the photos seemed to have drifted into glued together pieces of other photos which they were never meant to have visited. Some of the photographed subjects seemed to find this quite curious while others seemed to be wandering around, panicked and lost. The outfit was completed by a pair of mismatched boots with the stuffed heads of a lion and an eagle sticking out from left and right toes respectively. Luna continued to wear her large pointed hat which on this day seemed to have settled its face into a smile.

And Luna was not alone. She walked arm in arm with Neville Longbottom whose eyes looked like they would explode as he caught sight of his four Gryffindor housemates.

"Neville," said Ron, trying desperately to contain a smirk.

"Ron - Harry - Hermione - Ginny," squeaked Neville. "I - I - I - I - we're - "

"We're on our first date," announced Luna, smiling, pulling Neville's arm closer to hers.

"That's a very," Ginny paused, "interesting outfit you're wearing, Luna."

Luna smiled engagingly.

"I made it over the summer while practicing sticking charms," she explained. "My father says The Daily Prophet is just useless but I don't agree."

"Isn't it a bit cold to be wearing that today, Luna?" said Hermione reproachfully.

"Oh, no," said Luna. "Besides, Neville would have preferred me in a bikini so this is a sort of compromise."

"I didn't!" squeaked Neville defensively. "I never said - "

"Oh, but you thought it, dear," said Luna, smiling. "I do like it when he's shy," she declared, kissing him on the cheek and causing a pale color to return to his complexion.

"Now don't stare too hard, Ronald," she chided as Ginny stuck her fist in her mouth to stop herself from laughing. "It's not my fault our animal mates aren't fated for each other."

"I - I - wasn't - "

But Luna had already moved on to Harry and had begun studying him as if he were a mildly curious laboratory experiment.

"Uh, hello, Luna."

"Why, Harry, I do believe you might be starting to lose your horns."

"Er - right."

"Well," said Luna dreamily as Hermione shook her head. "I think we'd better be going. I promised Neville I'd show him the Warty-Horned toad exhibit in the Hogsmeade museum. You know, he's never seen a blue one before?"

"Bye!" said Neville, still an unnaturally high voice, tugging Luna along with him.

Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron stood still on the spot. They managed with difficulty to contain themselves until Neville and Luna were out of earshot and then collapsed into stitches of laughter. Ginny laughed so loud her ribs started to ache painfully but she was happy to see Harry join in. She was starting to wonder when she had last seen him laugh like this when something happened that stopped her from smiling altogether.

Michael Corner had just walked out of the boys' lavatory. He was alone.

"Hi, Ginny," he said, a little clumsily. "What's so funny?"

Ron had suddenly stopped laughing also.

"Oh, hi, Michael," said Ginny nervously. "Nothing."

"Hi, Harry," said Michael, his eyes leaving Ginny's for only the briefest of moments.

"Hi, Michael," said Harry. "How was your summer?"

Michael gave Harry a very odd-looking one-shouldered shrug before turning back to Ginny.

"So," said Ginny. "Where - uh - where's Cho?"

"Oh, didn't you know?" said Michael, his eyes seeming to bore into hers. "We broke up. She said I was too miserable."

Ron started to cough loudly.

"I expect she would know," said Michael, looking sideways at Harry.

"Yeah, she would," said Harry bitterly. "Anyway, you're better off without her, mate, believe me, you - "

Harry broke off as he looked sideways and noticed that Ron was looking very seriously at Michael, his jaw set rather oddly, while Hermione was looking anxiously over at Ron.

Michael, for his part, had already stopped listening to Harry and was staring at Ginny again who was starting to blush. Harry suddenly noticed how much taller he was than her.

"I heard you and Dean aren't going out anymore," said Michael.

"Oh - uh - right, we broke up," said Ginny quickly.

"I'm sorry," said Michael. He didn't look it. "Listen, Ginny," he said urgently. "If you're not going to the ball with anyone, I'd like to ask you."

"I - I'm sorry, Michael," said Ginny stiffly. "I don't think that would be a very good idea."

"Why not, Ginny?" asked Michael, looking hurt. "Look, I'm sorry about all the rotten things I said to you before."

"It's not just - it's not - " Ginny paused and shot a furtive sideways glance at her three companions. Part of her felt sorry for Michael but another part of her sighed in disbelief at his imbecilic decision to ask her to the dance right in front of her brother and her friends, reminding Ginny very much of why she had broken up with him in the first place.

"Look, Michael, I - I don't think this is a good time to be discussing this."

"Discussing what? We're not discussing anything. I'm just asking you - "

Ginny looked back at Ron, Harry, and Hermione again and this time Michael did not fail to notice.

"Look, it's just - "

"I LOVE YOU, GINNY WEASLEY, AND I DON'T CARE HOW MANY PEOPLE KNOW IT!"

Ginny screwed up her fists and willed with all her might for the ground to break open and swallow her whole. She was certain things couldn't get any worse. Then they did.

Ron took a step forward.

"She doesn't want you, anymore, Corner, don't you get it?"

Michael rounded on Ron.

"Sorry, Weasley, I don't recall asking your opinion," he said hotly.

Ron's eyes narrowed and his face turned a deep purple. Harry and Hermione quickly grabbed onto his arms just as he started to lurch forward to attack Michael. Ron struggled against the restraining grips of his friends. To make matters worse, Michael had started to roll up the sleeves of his sweater to reveal a pair of forearms nearly as scrawny as Ron's.

"Let me go!" Ron demanded. "He's deserved it for a long time!"

"No, Ron, stop it!" cried Hermione.

Hermione was not as strong as Harry which caused Ron to pull to his right and led the three friends in a strange pirouette.

"I'm not afraid of you, Weasley!" said Michael. "Your sister and I would still be going out if it weren't for you talking dirt about me!"

"It's got nothing to do with him!" shouted Hermione suddenly, temporarily losing her grip on Ron's arm and causing Harry to grab his best friend frantically around the stomach like he was restraining a crazed dog.

"LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE! Let me go!"

"Drop it, mate, all right?" said Harry, his teeth clenched with the effort of restraining Ron.

"Let me go, Harry! Let me have a go at him! Let me!"

Michael backed away slightly.

"I won't forget about this, Weasley! And next time you won't have your friends around to protect you!"

"Goddess, what a bloody idiot!" cried Hermione as Ron spun her and Harry around in an attempt to follow Michael who had walked past Ginny without another word and down the street back in the direction of the school.

Michael had walked a good fifty meters past them and Ron was still struggling against Harry and Hermione who were standing in front of him now and blocking him from following Michael.

"Look, stop it! Stop!" Hermione bellowed into Ron's face.

She stomped hard on his toe three times.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" cried Ron back but he finally stopped struggling.

Hermione and Harry released Ron and the three friends stood on the spot panting from their efforts, neither saying a word at first. It was finally Hermione who broke the silence.

"Come on, we're going to The Three Broomsticks," she declared officiously and before anyone could stop her, she had marched off in the direction of the pub. The others followed a little more reluctantly. The entire walk down what was, for most of the other students who milled passed them, the cheerful and lively main street of Hogsmeade, was passed in extremely awkward silence. None of them seemed to know what to say to one another, though Harry sensed that Hermione was preparing a formidable agenda of rebukes for Ron which would likely set them off against each other for a good week. He found himself somewhat surprised, however, that Ginny herself had remained quiet. For reasons he kept safely locked away far in the back of his mind, she had not been herself around him for many years and as a result, Harry didn't have the feeling that he'd known Ginny for very long but from what he had seen and did know, it amazed him that she wasn't shouting and flinging hexes at her brother all the way down the street. He glanced at her for as long as he dared; he certainly didn't want her to catch him looking at her: things were tense enough as it was. In that brief stare, however, Harry was struck by how pale and sullen Ginny looked especially in contrast to the flushed face and defiantly folded arms of her similarly-complexioned brother. It was difficult for Harry to believe that he was looking at the same girl who had seemed so full of energy when they had first left the school and she was impersonating their erstwhile headmaster.

Despite his disease at the silence that seemed to travel between the four of them, Harry found that The Three Broomsticks approached much sooner than he wanted. He was the only one of the four to pass a cheerful wave to Hagrid whom he noted with slight interest was sitting in a corner table with Madame Maxime who looked slightly worse for wear since he had last seen her. Hermione quickly led them to a table at the corner, far away from the colorful scene of the main street through the pub's windows to a somewhat dim table in the corner which she no doubt thought would be more private but that Harry found almost unbearably claustrophobic.

There was little noise as they Harry sat down at the table save for Ron's angry pounding of his elbows on the table top. Harry looked up to see Hermione looking down at him despairingly and expected her to join them when she unexpectedly grabbed Ron's elbow and hoisted him up.

"What?" he demanded irritably.

"Don't get comfortable." Hermione poked him in the chest. "We're just dropping these two off. We have some Christmas shopping to do, remember?"

Ron's expression changed from anger to complete bewilderment.

"No," he replied.

"Well, we do," declared Hermione.

"You finally have gone completely barking, haven't you? I knew this would happen. What on earth are we going Christmas shopping for?"

"Harry. Wasn't it you who was telling me about that new Quidditch shop you wanted to visit?"

Harry stood up, feeling not for the first time that his two best friends had not noticed he was still there.

"For me? But why don't I - "

"You can't very well come, too, can you?" said Hermione shortly. She caught Harry's eye and nodded her head slightly in Ginny's direction, after which Harry stared back at her with an expression identical to Ron's.

"Could you at least explain to me why we're going Christmas shopping in October?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Honestly, Ron, if you wait until the last minute everything will be taken."

Hermione pulled a protesting Ron from his seat and shoved him, slightly roughly, back in the direction of the front entrance to the pub. She turned to follow him out of the door and was making her way in between the crowded tables of the room when Harry walked up behind her and grabbed hold of her arm.

"Stay here!" Hermione demanded in a stage whisper. "Look after Ginny!"

"But Hermione, don't you think you'd be better at that than me? Let me talk to Ron. I'll make him see sense better than you will!"

"No, Harry." Hermione pushed him gently back in the direction of Ginny's table. "You stay here."

"But what am I supposed to say to her?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Harry, I thought we'd been over this before. All you have to do when a girl talks is listen."

"When a girl talks? What's that got to do with what happened with Ginny?"

"She's a girl, you know."

"Yes, but - "

"Harry, just trust me!"

Hermione turned on her heel and walked out of the pub before Harry could say another word. With a mounting sense of dread, he turned around to rejoin Ginny at the table who was staring at the varnished lines on the table top in front of her. She looked up briefly as he returned as if only dully aware of the world around her. No more than a few indeterminable moments had passed when it became painfully obvious to Harry that it would be very hard to just sit and listen to Ginny when she wasn't going to talk.

"Er, w - would you like a Butterbeer?" Harry asked, a little gingerly.

He was somewhat relieved when Ginny nodded, though she still looked pale and continued to stare down at the table top. He quickly moved to the bar and ordered two Butterbeers, exchanged in some impatient conversation with Madam Rosmerta, and then returned to the table.

Ginny barely acknowledged receiving her Butterbeer though she managed to take a few sips. Harry took slightly larger gulps of his Butterbeer as if doing so would somehow make the time pass more quickly. He stared down at the gratuitous amount of foam that seemed to collect on the surface of every pint of the stuff, wondering what his next step should be now that Hermione's suggestion was obviously not going to work. He chanced a glance up at Ginny only see two large tear drops falling silently down her cheeks.

Harry desperately wanted to say something that would make Ginny stop crying but he couldn't think what it would be. He wasn't sure why but he suddenly remembered how Cho had stood in front of him in the Room of Opportunity, crying in just the same way and on neither occasion had Harry known anything to say or do that would make them stop. A sudden wave of guilt rushed over him and he had the irrational feeling that it was not Michael or Ron but he who had made Ginny suffer just like he had led Cedric to his death and made Cho cry.

"I - I'm sorry," he suddenly said, feeling immediately foolish.

Ginny looked back at Harry, her expression unchanging and tears continuing to run down her face.

"Oh, Harry," she said, in a voice so quiet it haunted him. "What on earth do you have to be sorry about? I - it's just sometimes all a little too much, that's all."

She stood up.

"Please tell Hermione I'm sorry. I - I - I have to go."

Ginny dried her eyes with the sleeve of her robes and weaved quickly between the clusters of tables, looking down at the ground to hide her tears. Harry wanted to tell her to stop and come back but the words seemed to take ages to reach his lips and by that time Ginny had already made her way to the door and left.

***

Voldemort sat in his forest staring at the diary which now rested on a patch of damp black earth. Soft spots of rain splattered its front cover and fell down the front of the Dark Lord's robes but he did not appear to care. Anyone who approached near enough would have noticed that Voldemort was panting heavily as if he had just run a race.

Voldemort forced himself to concentrate on what he had learned. It had been nearly an hour since his link to Ginny Weasley had been severed abruptly as she had swiftly passed back through the entrance gate to Hogwarts. Much of his plan had been a success. He was sure she had not felt the link. She had experienced some momentary discomfort when he had initiated the link but that had been all.

And he had seen into her thoughts. He also knew that Harry Potter had spent most of the morning together with her and even when she had left him, she had known exactly where he was. Voldemort told himself that this was sufficient for his plans. He would not need to possess her.

Which was good.

Voldemort fought back a wave of anxiety as he reflected on how difficult it would have been to control this girl if he had tried. She had been so much easier to manipulate in her sleep. He had supposed her to be simple-minded but he could see that he had been wrong. He clutched his head as he tried to struggle to control and repress the alien emotions that sped through his mind, emotions that seemed to constantly erupt to the surface of Ginny's conscious thought: hope, love, courage, fear, and despair - feelings she seemed to cling to one moment and force down the next. Voldemort recalled a distant memory of a boy, too young to have yet begun his schooling at Hogwarts, whose witless mudblood father had strapped him into a small child's roller-coaster at a carnival and watched in amusement as he had run around and around the track. Voldemort remembered how helpless he had felt, how someone else and not he himself had been in perilous control of his every movement, how he had vowed never to feel that way again.

And now Ginny Weasley had forced him to recall that memory. And Voldemort was sure he did not like that.

Voldemort tried to recover his composure. He knew he could not face his Death Eaters in this state. And there was so much still to plan. He needed to find another forest. He needed to feed again. He imagined the thrill of power that would come from trapping another unicorn, the energy that would surge through him on drinking its blood. Yes, he would certainly feel much better then.

***

Halloween came and went in an unusually uneventful fashion. The feast had been especially delicious this year and Hagrid had outdone himself with the enormous size of the pumpkins he had grown for the event. Hermione had been extremely busy with whatever she was planning for the Guy Fawkes ball. She was constantly meeting with Colin, Neville and now, Arabella, and whatever it was she had bought at Zonko's had mysteriously vanished. When Harry finally told Ron about his conversation with Winky in Dumbledore's office at the beginning of the term, Ron suspected that the items were being stored down in the kitchens. Whatever the case, as the week went on, Hermione seemed to grow more exasperated. It soon became apparent that the house elves were getting cold feet about their part of the arrangement, and it was starting to look as if the whole thing was going to be called off. But Hermione continued to work at all hours, desperate to put some part of her plan into effect.

Though they might not have thought she had taken any notice, Hermione could see that as the week went by and the Guy Fawkes ball grew nearer and nearer, Ron and Harry were experiencing a great deal of barely controlled mental anguish, albeit of a somewhat different nature. Harry had grown even more sullen than usual although he continued to claim, with decreasing convincingness, that the approach of the ball made no difference to him one way or the other. Ron also pretended nonchalance, but if anything, he seemed even worse. He was hardly eating any of his food and seemed just as frightened during History as Magic, which was now given over to Binns' announcements of upcoming arrangements for the ball, as he was during Professor Dibble's potions lessons from hell. Hermione could not stand this behavior. For her, inaction seemed totally pointless. You just asked the girl to the dance. If she said no, you asked someone else. And then finally, at breakfast on the morning of the day before the ball, Hermione made her feelings clear.

"Neither of you have asked a girl to the dance yet, have you?"

Ron dropped his spoon into his cereal bowl, causing milk and wizard puffs to splash all over the table.

"I'll take that as a no." She sighed and shook her head, turning back to her own breakfast and the open book next to her on the table.

"I told you before I don't care about the stupid dance!" retorted Harry.

"Fine, Harry," said Hermione, forcing her exasperation down with effort. In truth, she had very much hoped that Ginny might have asked him by now or, even perhaps, that he might have asked her. But Ginny had been avoiding her ever since their Hogsmeade fiasco. In fact, she had seemed unusually withdrawn around everyone as if she had somehow inherited some of Harry's less desirable personality traits.

Hermione forced her concerns about her friend down for a moment and turned to regard Ginny's intractable brother like a piece of rotting sausage that had wandered too near her nose.

"What about you then?" she demanded. "I don't suppose you've asked anyone yet?"

"No, I've only just last night made up my mind who I'm going to ask."

Forgetting for the moment to feign disinterest, Harry looked up at Ron in surprise. He wondered if he was bluffing for Hermione's benefit.

"Really?" replied Hermione incredulously. "And who would that be?"

"I'm going to ask the beautiful girl in the school." Ron suddenly downed his orange juice in one gulp as if it were a shot of vodka and stared back at Hermione, daring her to defy him.

Hermione opened her mouth in surprise. "And I suppose the most beautiful girl in the school is not taken, the day before the dance?"

"That's right. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some planning to do."

And with that Ron stood up, grabbed his bag, and left the Great Hall.

Hermione looked back at Harry but could see he was just as bewildered. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, finished a large piece of sausage, piled her books into her bag and made her excuses to leave. She hesitated for a moment as she put her bag around her shoulder, wondering if she should say something to Harry about the dance, or about Ginny, but then decided against it and left him with a quick goodbye for the library. As she walked out of the door and made her quickly toward the staircase, she forced herself to tear her mind away from Ron's strange pronouncement, and Harry and Ginny's mutually infuriating moods. If she could just find that one book Arabella had said she'd seen, then she knew that Dobby would see things her way. A voice behind her made her stop.

"Hermione, wait."

It was Ginny.

Hermione stopped and turned around. Ginny walked over to her. Hermione could see she looked a little frightened and almost a little sad.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," she said quietly. "I'm sorry I left that day and I'm sorry about what happened."

Hermione shook her head and took Ginny's hands in hers.

"I'm sorry, too, Ginny. I thought you would feel better if I left you with Harry but I guess it didn't work."

"I couldn't, Hermione." Ginny flinched as though a bee had flown too close to her face. "I couldn't. Not on top of everything else that happened."

"Ginny, are you all right?" Hermione knitted her brow in concern. "You've looked awful ever since we were in Hogsmeade. You're not yourself at all. Did Michael bother you that much - or Ron - or were you thinking about Harry?"

Ginny just shook her head.

"I gave Ron a good talking to when we out to the Quidditch shop," Hermione reported, trying to sound hopeful. "I don't think he'll try that again. And I think Michael will avoid you now, too. I wouldn't take anything he said too seriously"

"I know, Hermione. I can deal with them, anyway, and I - I'm better now," was all Ginny said, and Hermione could see that a normal color had indeed returned to her face, but she still looked at the younger girl with concern.

"Well, Hermione," Ginny said after a moment's pause. "I know you're awfully busy with S.P.E.W. so - "

"Wait, Ginny. What are you going to do about Harry now? Look, maybe you should ask him to the ball. We don't have another Hogsmeade weekend but maybe I could find some way to fix things up so the two of you will be alone."

"Maybe," said Ginny vacantly, a very odd smile playing on her lips. "Actually, though, I already have an idea."

***

Later that night, Harry sat next to Hermione, trying to finish a long parchment about the properties of the Synchronis Totalis curse. Hermione, who had not failed to mention to Harry that she had finished the parchment days ago, had a large folder of S.P.E.W. parchments sprawled out over the table to her right and her Arithmancy book opened up in front of her. It seemed to Harry that she was looking at both at the same time. Every now and then, Colin, Neville, or Arabella would draw up and whisper furtively in her ear. She would then nod and whisper back further instructions.

Ron had disappeared after dinner, saying that he had something to take care of. Harry suspected that this had something to do with the girl he was supposedly planning to ask to the dance, but he wondered why he hadn't told him anything. It was certainly not like Ron. Harry looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly 9:00. He was about to ask Hermione where she thought Ron had gotten to when he was aware of a tall, lanky figure walking up and standing across from Hermione's chair. He knew that it was Ron without looking up and continued to concentrate on his parchment as he had reached a rather tricky explanation that he did not want to have to think over twice. He was just beginning to think it strange that Ron hadn't pulled up a chair to sit down himself when Ron said:

"Hermione."

"Yes," Hermione replied, without looking up from her work.

"I - I wondered if I could ask you something."

"Ask away."

Hermione still kept her nose down in her Arithmancy book, but there was an edge to Ron's voice that made Harry look up. He was shocked to see that Ron did not look very well at all. His face had a sickly green pallor and his eyes were glazed over. He kept looking furtively behind him as if he expected a Boggart to leap out from the wall but all Harry could see there was the boys' bathroom.

"I - I - I was wondering whether you - well, whether you would go to the ball with me."

Harry's jaw dropped but Hermione continued to look down at her Arithmancy book. Harry did notice, however, that color started to rise in her cheeks.

"Ron," she said slowly. "I thought we'd discussed this two years ago. If you want to ask me to the dance, you have to ask first and not because someone else won't go with you."

But Harry could already see that Hermione had seriously misunderstood the situation. He watched as Ron's lower lip began to tremble. Harry pushed his chair back a little as if to guard himself from an imminent explosion.

"Anyway," Hermione went on, oblivious, turning another page in her book. "I already told you I'm not going. And what happened to the most beautiful girl in the school?"

"SHE'S SITTING RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME BUT SHE'S TOO BLOODY THICK TO NOTICE!"

Suddenly no one in the Gryffindor common room was doing any work. Harry's parchment rolled up with his quill still inside. Hermione's Arithmancy book fell to the floor with a loud crash as she looked up at Ron.

For a moment, there was total silence. Harry watched as a single tear fell down Ron's left cheek.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you earlier, Hermione," Ron continued, his voice thick with emotion. "It's not easy to tell the girl you like how you really feel about her."

Hermione stood up. Harry could see she was in complete shock. So was he.

"R - R - Ron," she finally stammered. "B - but I didn't know, I didn't think - "

"That's right, Hermione," said Ron. "And now, I'd just like to ask you one more time. Just so you're clear. I am asking you, Hermione Granger, to stop whatever it is you were going to do and come with me to the ball."

And without waiting for a response, Ron turned on his heel, walked into the boys' bathroom, and closed the door behind him.