Helpless

Chapter 3 - Flipside

"I hate this," Ron mumbled as he and Harry sat in the common room later that day, passing the minutes until they both had to go to Potions. "Why couldn't they just have told us she went home? There's nothing that big about it."

"We would have asked why, Ron."

"Yeah, well, it's a valid question! It's... it's the kind of thing Hermione wouldn't have given up on until she knew the whole story."

"She's not dead, Ron, she just went home for a few days."

"I know... and really, I guess it's good. I just want to know why... why she didn't tell us anything, leave a note, tell someone to pass the message on."

"I'm sure she'll be back. We'll ask her then."

Ron nodded. Harry knew he was just tired of discussing it, knew there was nothing they could do - and neither of them were looking forward to Potions, closed quarters with the Slytherins who hadn't stopped whispering since Hagrid's class. And with Professor Snape there, the head of Slytherin house who always favoured his own students, they most likely wouldn't bother to whisper anymore.

Sighing, Harry gathered up his bag.

"We're going to be late," he said.

"Oh, and that would be a shame. A bloody tragedy, I 'spect, late for Potions," Ron said sarcastically as he grabbed his own satchel and followed Harry out the portrait hole.

* * *

As it turned out, Harry and Ron were not late for Potions - but only barely. Snape barely looked up at them as they entered.

"Take your seats quickly or it will be five points from Gryffindor." Snape stood and passed back a set of marked essays on Despair Draughts and their antidotes as Harry and Ron found their seats. Irritatingly, the only two seats left were in front of their least favourite fellow student, Draco Malfoy. Grimacing secretly to Ron, Harry dropped his bag heavily by the stool and sat, glancing down at the essay he'd just been returned. 71%. Considering the amount of research he put into it (he really had been making more of an effort at his schoolwork so far this year), he knew he should feel bothered by the grade, but he knew it was par for the course (so to speak) when it came to Snape.

And thinking of research automatically cast his thoughts to Hermione, who he couldn't help worrying about. He glanced over at Ron, who was tapping his fingers against his own essay, rolled and unopened. He nudged his friend and gestured to the roll of parchment. Ron shrugged and went back to staring at the table.

Harry tore off a small strip of parchment and scribbled a note, passing it to Ron. Ron read it, scribbled a response and passed it back. Reading it, Harry sighed.

How'd you do?

I don't care.

He looked up at Snape, who was busy with a particularly indignant Pansy Parkinson, insisting she deserved more that the 95% she had been given. Satisfied that they weren't risking house points, he scribbled back.

Of course you don't, it's Potions. Aren't you curious?

Ron read this, and shook his head. After a few seconds, he wrote something shakily on the paper. Harry took it back.

She helped me with it. I'm waiting until she gets back.

Harry looked over at his friend and nodded. They shared a feeble grin.

As Ron went back to staring at the table, Harry's mind wandered. He missed Hermione highly, that much he could tell. The three of them had grown entirely inseparable over the last four years or so, and having her gone now was like waking up to find yourself missing an arm. He knew somehow that they'd see her again, sometime soon, so his concern was more towards what exactly had made her leave in the first place.

Ron, however, was a different case. Even Harry, who would be the first to admit that when it came to matters of the heart he was only a step up from utterly clueless, knew there was something between the two of them. Perhaps nothing concrete or established... nothing (Harry paused internally at the choice of words) consummated... but there was something there. He could tell, though he'd die before he brought this up with Ron, that the boy cared deeply for Hermione. In a way, he suspected, Ron worried that Hermione wouldn't return, that he would never get a chance to be with her... and possibly that his affection for her was the reason she had left, or the reason she might not return.

Harry worried for the both of them, more than he tended to for himself. After the events of last year and Cedric Diggory's death, he felt unable to indulge in any sort of self-pity. He had survived, while Cedric had died for no reason. He couldn't feel put-upon when he still walked the earth that Cedric was buried in. But Harry did worry - he worried for the state of the world, both Wizarding and Muggle. He worried that, when the time came, too many people would suffer. Mostly, though, he worried for Ron and Hermione, the two people who he loved (yes, loved) more than anyone else in the world. He worried that they could be hurt. He worried that they would risk too much. He...

Harry's train of thought was interrupted by a small item colliding with the back of his head. He jolted out of his reverie and turned around, where Malfoy was smirking at him. Picking up the small bronze Knut which had been chucked at him, he tossed it carelessly on Malfoy's desk, gave him a dirty look and turned back to the front.

From behind him, he heard a short, derisive laugh.

"Wakey wakey, Potter."

Harry didn't answer. He had better things to focus on. Snape was giving out instructions on how to make a basic Calming Potion - they had been doing a unit on potions that focus on the human emotions - and compared with trading hissed barbs with Malfoy, he'd rather listen to Snape's condescending voice.

"Where's your mudblood friend, Potter?"

Harry felt Ron tense up beside him and kicked his leg gently. Ron unclenched his fists and resumed staring at the desk. Harry could almost feel Malfoy's smirk.

"You're more vacant than usual today. Something to do with Granger up and leaving?"

Harry heard a strange ringing in his ears as he tried to ignore the blonde Slytherin.

"Maybe she finally came to her senses. Figured out that she shouldn't be souring this school with her dirty blood. I mean, honestly, a Muggle-born bint like that?"

Harry knew Malfoy was trying to set them off, to goad them into giving Snape an excuse to drop Gryffindor into a negative points value. Ron knew it too, Harry was sure... but Ron was so much more sensitive when it came to Hermione. Ron was tightening his grip on a bottle of salamander scales, to the extent where Harry was sure it would shatter. If only Malfoy would shut his fat mouth...

"Face it. The smartest thing she's ever done was finally figure out she's in over her head, nothing more than a stupid, mudblood bit-"

"That will do, Mr. Malfoy." All three boys jumped at the sound of Snape's voice. He was staring at the three of them, his eyes fiery. He strolled up in front of Harry and Ron's desk, but didn't look at either of them. "If you continue to distract your fellow students, do not doubt that I will not hesitate to take points from Slytherin for your... phenomenal lack of decorum."

Harry's jaw dropped. He looked over at Ron, who was blinking rapidly as though his brain wouldn't accept the information it was offered, then behind him at Malfoy, and for the first time since Hermione had left, he felt like laughing. The look on Malfoy's face was one of unabashed disbelief and confusion. Snape glanced down at Harry and raised an eyebrow.

"Close your mouth, Potter, you look like a fish."

Harry snapped his mouth shut as Snape flourished away. He couldn't stop himself from turning behind and throwing a smirk right back at the flabbergasted Malfoy. Hermione would be sorry she'd missed this.

* * *

Harry and Ron were talking a mile a minute on their way back from dinner, which they'd left early.

"Did you see his FACE?" Ron said, laughing. "He looked like he'd swallowed a Blast-Ended Skrewt! I can't... Snape really jumped to our defense, it was incredible. I thought I'd slipped into an alternate dimension. Whippersnapper." The portrait eased open at the password and Harry and Ron stepped inside.

"It was brilliant... That's right up there with Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing... Hermione?" Harry blinked. Hermione was sitting on a chair next to the fire, staring into the flames. She was back.