All About the Town

Ron and Hermione followed the gaggle of students down the long trail, across the wide grounds of Hogwarts and through a safe stretch of woods (Ron was quite thankful they didn't have to go through the Forbidden Forest), to the village of Hogsmeade. They were barely even in sight of the buildings when Hermione let out an excited squeal.

"Oh, it looks so old! I bet there's loads of history!"

Ron shot her an incredulous look. "What're you so excited for? Hogwarts is an old place too, I'd think you'd be used to it by now!"

"Yes, but schools are normally like that; think of Cambridge or Oxford!"

"Where?"

Hermione went on, so caught in her excitement she didn't hear him. "I mean, you'd think the village, with people living here all the time, would have remodeled, gotten a bit more modern - even Diagon Alley seems more like the Victorian era! But this looks like something out of medieval days!"

Ron scowled, taking in the surroundings. There was a mix of thatched and tiled roofs, windows with lead bars making diamond shapes in the glass, and the walkways were cobblestone. The walls were a mix of wood and brick, the signs all hand-painted. People strolled about in robes in a variety of cuts and colors. There were also some rough-hewn tunics or stiff white shirts and wool jackets on the men, and soft cotton shirts with colorful bodices and layered skirts, or one-peice wool dresses with a bit of lace here and there, for the women. Perfectly ordinary. To his eye, it wasn't so terribly different from Diagon Alley, for that matter. What was she getting so excited about?

He really did want to understand, but, not for the first time, he found himself wondering if he ever would. At least his annoyance with her had abated from the day before. How could he stay mad when this was his first chance to see Hogsmeade? His excitement almost made him manage to forget that poor Harry wasn't with them.

Several times that morning he'd considered not going at all, but staying behind to keep his best friend company. He'd discussed it with Hermione, and she had been perfectly willing to stay too, but he could see the disappointment in her eyes. When they brought it up to Harry, he was adamant that they go for his sake, and tell him all about it. He went on to say he would feel horribly guilty if they didn't get to go just because of him. Ron was secretly relieved, and he was willing to bet Hermione was too.

Of course Ron still felt a twinge of guilt if he thought of his absent friend, but Hermione was good company. In fact, there was a moment when Ron found himself thinking that he was a little glad Harry wasn't with them, so that he could spend the time with her alone. But he banished the thought with more than a little horror the moment he entertained it. No, Hermione was his friend, but that was all, and it just didn't seem quite right not to have Harry along with them.

Nothing would ever get him to admit aloud that he was perhaps a bit more overprotective of her than simple friendship encourage. If anyone had suggested that the reason they fought so much was because he cared more about what she thought than anyone else, and therefore took any disagreement from her very personally, he would have told the person suggesting it to take a long walk off a short pier. And if he'd found himself sometimes getting a little jealous when it seemed she was paying more attention to Harry than him, well ... no, he didn't get jealous, and that was that. Not even being threatened with detention with Snape an hour a day for the rest of his school career could get him to admit otherwise!

But no amount of denial could change the fact that it was all true.

Sure, she was an insufferable know-it-all, but then, he almost had to admire that. A little voice -- his mother's, probably -- told him he could stand to learn a few things from her.

For her part, Hermione was feeling much like Ron: a bit guilty for having fun without Harry, but also a bit glad for the chance to spend the day with just the Weasley boy. In fact, when some of the others tried to tag along, like Neville Longbottom or Dean Thomas or one of Ron's brothers, she managed to steer Ron away and lose them, or avoid them altogether. She told herself it was just because she felt that things had been a bit tense between her and Ron, that she just wanted to iron out the wrinkles in their friendship. She told herself, when her heart fluttered when he laughed or jumped when he smiled, that it was just the day's excitement. Never mind how she caught herself three times just before she would have reached out to ruffle his fiery red mane. ...

Honeydukes was packed with students, so they decided to leave that for later. Besides, it meant they wouldn't have to lug the stuff all about the town. Zonko's was crowded too, so they figured that could wait as well, although Ron was half afraid his brothers Fred and George would clean the place out of Filibuster Fireworks.

The crowd hadn't yet reached Dervish and Bangs. Ron wasn't too keen on going in at first -- it reminded him too much of school -- until Hermione pointed out the Firebolt in the window. When they went inside, he spent the entire time drooling over it. Hermione didn't mind; it meant she could take her time browsing. In fact, after she paid for her choices, she had a dickens of a time getting his attention so they could leave. Outside the shop he almost walked into a light post because he was still looking back at the window.

The crowd had died out by this time at Zonko's, moving on to Dervish and Bangs, leaving the joke shop empty enough for Ron and Hermione to enjoy in relative leisure. This time it was Hermione who wasn't much interested, but she managed to keep the scowl off her face and her foot from tapping as Ron stocked up on his objects d'juvenile delinquency. The day had been going so well with him, she didn't want to spoil it. Instead, she occupied herself by talking with the shopkeeper.

After Ron had stocked up on dungbombs and other unsavories, they worked their way down the street, a bit behind the crowds. Wanting to save the rest of their pocket money (and pocket space) for Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks, they window shopped mostly, going in now and again only if they saw something that merited a closer look. Much to Ron's chagrin, Hermione dragged him into a shop called "Faerie Frocks". Well, he could have waited outside, but he figured someone was sure to see him standing out there alone, thinking HE was interested in the frilly stuff. Certainly it had nothing to do with a desire to stay by Hermione's side. ...

She took an armfull of dresses and robes into a dressing room. Time after time, she opened the door, asking his opinion on this outfit or that. He pretended to be bored and utterly uninterested, hoping that no one noticed how uncomfortable he was. He prayed his face wasn't as red as he feared, which would be just a perfect match for his hair. He tried valiantly on a daily basis to look as Hermione as just "one of the guys", every day a little harder than the last. Today he was fighting a losing battle -- and she was giving ammunition to the enemy.

Finally she stepped out in a gown he couldn't feign to ignore. (He thought ruefully that he was going to have to pop his eyeballs back into his head and manually shut his jaw). The shining white robe was made of something as fine and draping as silk, loose and flowing, and faintly translucent. The billowing sleeves were gathered at the wrist and left the shoulders bare; the gown was held up by a fine silver chain around her neck. The silver threads running through the opalescent fabric made it twinkle here and there in the soft candlelight of the shop; it seemed as though the gown were spun of rainbows and stars. Her hair free and loose, Hermione looked like some fairy princess from a story. Or a nymph. ...

[Ron looking at Hermione in the dress.]

Hermione didn't fail to catch his reaction, though she pretended to be oblivious to it. He couldn't see her grinning like a fool when she was back inside the dressing room. He looked almost crestfallen when she stepped back out in her own school robes. He looked even moreso when she walked out with him without having bought a thing. The irritation in his voice confirmed it for her.

"Why didn't you buy that last one? You drag me in there and don't even buy anything! ..."

She shrugged innocently. "Girls like to try on clothes, even if they couldn't afford them and wouldn't have anywhere to wear them to even if they could. ..."

She dragged him to all sorts of places he wouldn't even think of going to on his own. She read all the plaques she could find, asking anyone that would stop long enough to answer questions about the history of the town. She scribbled away furiously on a pad with a quill that supplied endless ink without ever having to be dipped, which she had bought at Dervish and Bangs. Ron had to admit some of the tales were pretty interesting, stories of attacks by monsters, of duels and discoveries, of excecutions and visits by celebrities (unless it was a story about Gilderoy Lockhart visiting! Then even Hermione, who had finally come to her senses about the man, cut the story short with a "Thank-you, but we really ought to be going. ...") Even the post office turned out to be interesting!

And he liked it best of all when Hermione asked him questions about wizard culture. She gave him a new appreciation of things he took for granted, like Heatsocks that kept you warm so you could still wear short sleeves in the dead of winter (they both wished they could afford a pair!)

He also, from a simple desire to get to know her better, began asking her questions about muggle life, and found himself developing a fascination with it (although he would never be obsessed with it like his father, he assured himself.) It gave him a new appreciation of what kind of hardships she and Harry had had to go through growing up without magic. And he'd thought life as a poor Weasley was hard!

After a while they came to the Shrieking Shack. No one had been in the building for years -- his brothers Fred and George had tried to break in, and failed. According to legend, the ghosts there weren't like the friendly Hogwarts ghosts -- these were something to be feared! Sure enough, the students coming back uphill from the yard looked white as a sheet, but they were laughing and shouting about what a blast it was. So of course Hermione wanted a closer look.

The shack certainly lived up to its name; Ron had to cover his ears to dull the noise emanating from within. Hermione, on the other hand, was so fascinated she forgot to be scared. Or so he thought.

Thanks to his ears being plugged, he didn't hear her telling him how, while he'd been poking about in Zonko's, the shopkeeper had told her that the Shrieking Shack hadn't made a peep in years. So of course when Hermione heard her fellow students in town talking about how scary it was, she just had to investigate. Edgy from the screaming, Ron just followed Hermione as she poked about, nodding his head as she assumed she was simply making this observation or that about the architecture.

They made their way around to the back of the building. No one else was around. Hermione was about to peek in a window when a dark figure stepped before them. The air suddenly grew very cold -- from all the ghosts, so Ron thought, as he gazed longingly back the way they 'd come, fingers still in his ears, oblivious to the thing before them. Meanwhile, Hermione's had teeth started to chatter -- and she wasn't so sure it was just because of the cold. She had a sinking feeling she had encountered this ghoul, or one like it, before. She looked into its hood, confirming her fears.

It was definitely a dementor.

It stepped towards her. She tried to see into its dark robes. Fear kept her riveted, waiting to see what horrors were in its folds. She could feel her extremities going numb. She felt like a cold mist was seeping its tendrils into her mind, her thoughts gone foggy -- until something stepped between her and the apparition, making her jump and squeal. It was Ron.

"Here, now, get lost! Neither of us is Sirius Black, and we've been all over this place and haven't seen him, so why don't you go look somewhere else!" His voice sounded firm, even menacing, belying the cold fear that lay like a lead weight in belly.

[Ron protecting Hermione from a dementor.]

Without a sound or an acknowledgement the dementor turned and drifted away.

Ron grabbed Hermione and shook her, his heart beating madly, the sweat on his brow like ice.

She shook her head, disoriented for a moment. Then her eyes flew open wide, locking with his. With a cry she threw her arms around him, pulling him close.

"Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you. ..." she breathed, over and over.

He could feel her shivering in his arms, and found that he was too. Her held her tightly, stroking her long soft, curls. The sweet smell of her hair had a balming effect on him. He kissed the top of her head, softly, murmuring into her silken tresses that everything was okay, the dementor was gone.

For her part, Hermione began to relax in his embrace. She could feel the fear draining from her, and was starting to enjoy the moment when the sound of laughter managed to ring over the shack's shrieking.

They sprang apart in much the way Ron had imagined his older brother Percy must have when their younger sister Ginny had found him kissing his girlfriend Penelope. Ron had a fleeting image of himself in Percy's shoes, Hermione in Penelope's. He quickly squashed the thought, telling himself he was going to hurl if he thought things like that. But he silently cursed that things hadn't even gotten that far. ...

The source of the laughter wasn't on their side of the Shack, and therefore hadn't actually seen them. When the culprit, Draco Malfoy, stepped out from around the corner with his henchmen, clearly unaware that Ron and Hermione had been nearby, Ron breathed a sigh of relief.

Malfoy found plenty of things to tease him about all on his own, without needing a new topic handed to him on a silver platter.

"What a JOKE this place is!" Malfoy was telling his cohorts, Crabb and Goyle. "OOOH, I'm SCAAARED!"

He stopped short when he saw Ron and Hermione. "Oh, you're here too, are you Weasley? Why bother? I should think you would be used to scary sights, hanging out with HER all day. ..."

Ron's roar was only barley drowned out by the screaming of the Shack's inhabitants. He drew his wand as he cried, ready to throw out a nasty curse that would turn the boy's hair white and have him crying like a banshee, when a figure came running out in front of him and ducked behind a hedge. He just barely managed to cut off the words and avoid hitting the figure (which turned out to be Neville) with his spell. He would have tried again, but Percy walked up just then, Penelope on his arm.

"Longbottom, it's ok; it was just Fred and George! Oh, hello, Ron, Hermione! You guys having fun?"

Hermione piped up, stepping up alongside the Head Boy, inwardly thankful for the interruption. "Uh, yes, loads! Soooo, where are you two going next?"

Ron's other brothers came up from behind Malfoy. They were each carrying a Shrieker, a ball that made horrible screams when you held it just so, sounds so loud they could be heard up to a hundred feet away, or so the manufacturers claimed. They spotted their younger brother and put their arms around him companionably. "Ron, you won't believe what fun we've had today!"

Ron had no choice but to walk out front with them, Malfoy's laughter following him despite all the screeches coming from the Shriekers, which the twins seemed reluctant to turn off.

Neville was waiting for them on the hill. Lee Jordan, Oliver Wood, Seamus Finnigan, Pavarti Patil, Dean Thomas, and Lavender Brown all joined up with them as they made their way down the street. The lot of them went into Honeydukes.

Feeling a little better now that they were away from the dementor, Malfoy and his goons, and the "shrieking ghosts" (Percy had threatened to report the twins to McGonagall), and now being with their friends, Ron and Hermione began to laugh and smile again. Ron showed off his knowledge of the strange delights of wizard candies, whirling Hermione about from one barrel to the next. She looked a bit wary of many of the items, but took an instant liking to Droobles Best Blowing Gum, which was so much better than muggle bubblegum, because the bubbles lasted for days. You could even put small objects inside them and send them flying, as Fred and George demonstrated with Percy's Head Boy badge.

They filled two sacks and all their pockets to brimming with candy, enough for themselves and Harry. As they made their way out of the shop, Hermione stumbled, hand to her head.

Ron dug into his bag and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, handing it to her. "Remember what Madame Pomfery told Harry. ..." he reminded her.

Harry had had a similar, but more serious, encounter with a dementor, leading him to have a strange fainting spell. Professor Lupin had insisted that Harry and the others eat some chocolate, but hadn't explained why; they thought maybe he was just trying to keep them distracted from their ordeal. Later Madame Pomfery had commented that it was about time they had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knew his remedies.

Hermione smiled, thanking Ron as she unwrapped the frog. When they started walking again, he saw her rubbing her shoulders, as though the chill of the dementors hadn't quite left her yet.

He gestured towards the Three Broomsticks. "Let's get some butterbeer, warm us up. ..."

"Some what?" she asked as they changed direction.

He winked at her. "You'll see."

The Three Broomsticks was a warm and cozy place, packed with tables and people. They nodded to familiar faces as they made their way to a small table in the back, near the cheerful fire. Ron ordered from a plump, sweet-faced woman as they sat down.

The waitress was back in moments with two steaming tankards and two plates of something that resembled a croissant.

Hermione sniffed the drink. It smelled rather like a cross between rootbeer and a warm, buttery roll. She enjoyed the heat it gave off, cupping both hands around it.

Ron had already taken a swig, leaning back with a sigh and wiping his lips with his sleeve. "Go on then, it won't bite you!"

She laughed. With wizard things, you never knew. ...

She sipped it tentatively. It tasted like it smelled, but the combination was surprisingly good. She felt a warmth spread through her, finally chasing away the last of her chill from their awful encounter.

"So what's this thing?" she asked, gesturing to the plate.

He grinned. "It's a Crescent Moon Cake. Come on, try it!"

She bit off a chunk. It had the texture of a croissant, sure enough, but it tasted like cheesecake! She grinned back.

She looked way after a moment, blushing. The grin softened into a gentle smile, and her eyes got a faraway look, as if she were about to use her drink to tell a fortune -- and likely do a far better job of it than Professor Trelawny, he mused. After a long moment of silent thought, Hermione finally spoke.

"I want to thank you ..." Though the room was full of conversation, the sudden sound of her voice seemed to make them both jump a bit. Why did he suddenly feel nervous?

"For standing up against that ... that THING," she continued, determined to have her say, even though the Butterbeer seemed to have become a butterfly in her stomach. "Now I know why Harry reacted like he did. It's like the dementors feed off your soul!" She shuddered. "I can't imagine the things are GOOD; I think Dumbledore has very good reason not to allow them inside Hogwarts. ... Anyway, I'm glad you were with me. And thank you for standing up to Malfoy for me!" She said that last in a bit of a rush.

Ron blushed, but said nothing, pretending to be very interested in reaching the bottom of his tankard.

"Even though I really think you need to learn to control your temper," she added.

He almost choked, dropping the mug to the table with a thunk and a splash. He stared at her, indignant. She was grinning smugly.

"Well that's *cough* a fine lot of *cough* gratitude!" he muttered.

Her smile dropped and she got THAT LOOK, the one she adopted when she was getting ready to tell him when he'd done something wrong. And they had done so well that day, barely fought at all. ...

"Who cares what Draco Malfoy has to say, Ron?" she asked, her tone for once sounding like she was pleading, not reprimanding. "His words are never going to live on in some book as an example of great wisdom! He's not worth getting in trouble over!"

He scowled and stared at the fire, arms crossed and chin to his chest as he slouched in his chair.

When he didn't answer, she looked down at her drink, sloshing it absently. "And I'm not worth it either. ..." she mumbled miserably.

He snapped up at that, mouth open in a mix of shock and indignation, brow furrowed. "What??" He sat up and leaned forward, one arm on the table and a hand on his hip. "Hermione Granger, how dare you tell me how much my friends are worth! First Malfoy insults my taste, and now you!?"

She finally met his gaze, wonder playing across her features. As he watched, the firelight seemed to melt her eyes and hair into liquid gold. For the second time that day he was struck speechless by the sight of her. She was right, Malfoy was an idiot; the boy had to be blind to speak of such a beautiful creature as if she were a basilisk!

He suddenly found himself ... for lack of a better word, hungry for something, But he'd gorged on candy and the Crescent Moon Cake, so he was relatively certain it wasn't food he wanted. It was a need, a desire he'd never felt before, and yet he didn't have any idea what it was he actually wanted. He felt a little scared by it.

He felt himself drawn to Hermione, as surely as if she had used her wand to pull him in with a summoning spell. The table was so small, their faces were less than a hand's breadth away. His breathing grew shaky. His lips parted; so did hers. Her eyes grew hooded, and he found himself closing his eyes too. He could feel her breath against his lips now.

[Ron and Hermione lean in to kiss.]

"OK, FOLKS, TIME TO PACK IT IN! GRAB YOUR THINGS, AND WE'LL HEAD BACK TO HOGWARTS FOR THE HALLOWEEN FEAST!!!"

Percy's holler startled Ron so badly he fell backwards in his chair. Hermione hurried over to help him up.

"RON! Are you all right?!" She got him on his feet.

"Yeah, yeah, just hurt my pride is all. ..." he laughed, brushing himself off. "Let's ah ... let's not mention the dementor to Harry, huh?"

She grinned. "And let's not mention your run-in with Malfoy. He has enough on his mind. ..."

Ron nodded as they gathered up their things and followed the long line of students back to the school. There was, he felt, another, unspoken agreement between them as well: to not mention, ever, what had been about to happen -- or perhaps not happen -- just now between them, beside the fire. In fact, they didn't say a word the whole way back. But they both thought about it, trying their best to burn the memory into their minds -- and silently cursing Percy for not letting them know the ending. ...