Arithmancy
by Faithful Wheezy
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
Two: Ghostly moans
"That was embarrassing," groaned Ron from under his bedspread. "I am dead. Dead-dead-dead-dead-dead-dead-dead."
"What are you talking about?" asked Harry, who was lounging on his own bed. "I was watching Hermione read it. You know, she smiled. I think."
"You know what I'm talking about," Ron said impatiently. "The Slytherins! What brought that on? They saw the note, Malfoy definitely called me out, the Slytherins sang 'Granger loves the Weasel' to the whole Great Hall, and you're wondering why I'm dead?"
"Well, if you weren't yelling and screaming and raving at me like a lunatic, then maybe I'd get a clue," said Harry with a laugh.
"Why did I have to take Ginny's stupid advice and write that bloody note anyway?" mumbled Ron. "Why couldn't I just return the blasted book normally and say sorry?"
"Why'd you pick a fight with her?" Harry stood up and gave him a book. "Here it is, by the way. She left her Arithmancy book again."
"Bloody hell!" Ron said. "Really? I already gave the damn thing to Hermione through bloody owl post! I go through embarrassment like that and she—"
"—dropped it," said Harry with a squint. "She dropped it. Again. Can you believe that? After she blasted those Slytherins with that weird hex that makes them go—" Harry imitated some rather gruesome movements—"she practically took off and left the book and Cormac McLaggen behind. Speaking of which," here, Ron's ears flared up a becoming shade of red, "you looked pretty ready to murder him."
"With a Beater's bat," Ron agreed calmly.
"Er, right. Well, don't worry about him. I'm pretty sure he and Hermione aren't going out."
"Officially, anyway," muttered Ron.
After a few moments, Ron straightened up. "Is there anything important about that book, anyway?" he asked. "For something so important, she seems to drop it an awful lot."
Harry looked at the shabby Arithmancy textbook and shrugged. "Ginny just told me there was a little significance to it. Not too important, I guess. Maybe it was just bought by somebo—" but he stopped at the look Ron was beginning to develop. "Like I said, it's probably not important."
Harry watched Ron for a minute. He was practically melting into his bed, with his face burning up like a constipated tomato. Harry knew for a long time that Ron had long since cradled unsteady emotions toward Hermione, and every time those two would fight, Harry had the urge to walk up to them, smash each other's face into the other, and yell, "Geeze! Just shut up and snog already!" even though he knew it was equivalent to walking into a basilisk's lair with his eyes taped open. Without a wand. Naked.
Also, he knew McLaggen was tricky. He was bad enough to be a Slytherin—he had a sneer that was almost half as bad as Malfoy's—and he heard McLaggen call Ron a 'blood traitor' firsthand. He also caught him staring at Hermione occasionally, but he didn't think much of it. He was starting to get his suspicions, and now, he just wasn't so sure.
"I'm dead," moaned Ron for the millionth time that afternoon. "I'm dead and buried and this is my ghost, I'm dead… bury my body at the Burrow, Harry, I'm dea—"
"Ron?"
Harry whipped around. "Hermione? Er… this is the boys' dormitory. What are you doing in he—"
"Never stopped me before, Harry," she said cheerfully. "And, I seem to recall something about two boys who looked like you back in second year who brewed a practically-illegal-potion-that-could-have-gotten-us-expelled in the girls' bathroom."
"And whose idea was that?" shouted Ron from his bed.
"I thought you were dead, Ron," said Hermione, her voice getting louder. She looked as though she was going to say something, then changed her mind. "Excuse me, Harry; Cormac's waiting for me downstairs. Today's a Hogsmeade weekend, and we're going together." She put a lot of emphasis on the word. "I can't wait. It's going to be so much fun. I'd invite you, Harry," here she put on a convincingly sympathetic face—"but I've never had a weekend alone with Cormac, so I thought I'd take the chance today. I'll see you later tonight, though! Harry," she repeated, making it a point to ignore Ron. She waved, and left the dormitory.
"'Well, don't worry about him,' he says, 'I'm pretty sure he and Hermione aren't going out,' he says." Ron furrowed his brow angrily. "Could have fooled me."
-x-
"Finally," Cormac McLaggen said, standing up from the armchair he was sitting in in the Common Room. "What were you doing in the boys' dormitories?"
"Sorry," she said hastily. "It's just—he's one of my best friends, you know? Got to watch out for each other…"
"I didn't say anything about any best friends," McLaggen said slowly.
Hermione balked at her Freudian slip.
"Well anyway, let's go to Quality Quidditch Supplies when we get to Hogsmeade—I have a bunch of stuff I need to buy. And if I run out of money, do you mind to lend? I'll… pay you back," he said in his sly voice.
Okay. Game plan, Hermione thought to herself. Think of pleasant things when near McLaggen. Okay. Hogwarts: a History. The smell of freshly cut grass. A finished essay. Red hair, freckles... what? Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts, which McLaggen interpreted as affirmation.
"So you don't mind?"
Think of Cormac McLaggen... dead. Yeah! Think that you killed him. Imagine aiming the wand at him… imagine Ron watching from the sidelines… imagine his hair blowing in the wind…oh. Was that creepy? "Nah, I don't," said Hermione weakly. Oh bugger it! Ron. Ron, Ron. "Afterward, we'll get something to eat?" Blue eyes, the way he punches me playfully when I correct him about something...
"Let's try the Warlock Wun Stop, great beef and steak place."
Hermione was not a vegetarian, but she attempted to avoid meat most of the time.
Here lies Cormac McLaggen, beloved son and friend. "No, I don't mind…"
-x-
"I'm dead! Just DEAD! I'm dead and gone, dead and gone, dead and gone,"
"Ron! Will you shut up, already?" Seamus yelled from his own bed. "Please? If you just shut up, I promise you that me, Dean, Neville, and Harry will… get you and Hermione together. Just shut up!"
"Oooooooh... did you guys hear that? Was that a good ghostly moan?"
"Why don't you save your moans for other recreational activities?" Dean said, waggling his eyebrows. Ron was just about to hex those eyebrows when Harry came to the rescue.
"That was a brilliant idea, Seamus!" Harry roared, pretending to casually step in the line of fire between Ron and Dean. "We'll get you two together, easy. Just leave it to us."
Neville was able to finally breathe again. "Yeah, Ron. We'll help you. Right guys?"
Dean and Neville could do nothing else but nod their head feebly and say "Sure, mate. Anything for you!" While Seamus added under his breath, "Anything to shut you up."
finite