Awakening

Chapter Two – Consequence

In which Ron's head is back to its usual size and he's waking everyone up; Hermione is deeply disturbed; Ginny tries to stay out of trouble; and Harry's stuck in the middle—again.

The skies slowly changed form deep indigo to pale gray, the moon gave way to the sun, and the stars left the heavens. Dawn.

And the entire Gryffindor house slept.

Well, almost the entire Gryffindor house.

"Fred! George!" the voice was furious, threatening, and loud. Extremely loud. Footsteps just as noisy were heard from the common room and up the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories. "Both of you wake up right bloody now!"

Unfortunately, the Weasley twins seemed to have slept right through the whole racket. But Harry Potter, along with quite a few very irritated Gryffindors, was not able to.

Harry got up, his mouth stretching into an involuntary yawn as he opened his eyes and groped around his bedside table for his glasses.

"Ron?" he slid off the bed as soon as he had gotten the glasses on, a rather befuddled look upon his features as he spoke. He looked around the room drowsily and saw that nobody else was there before his mind very patiently informed him Ron's voice was coming from outside.

Yawning again and trying not to breathe in his own surely wonderful-smelling breath, he trudged out of the door and into the long hallway of the boys' dormitories. Several people were outside and glaring irritably at Ron, who was a few doors up, rapping on his brothers' door.

Harry scratched his head as he began mumbling excuse-me's and out-of-my-way's as he began to make his way towards his best friend, who was—amazingly— unaware of all the commotion he was causing all throughout the dorm.

Ron was starting to shout quite a few graphic obscenities when Harry gingerly tapped him on his shoulder.

"Harry," Ron's eyes widened as he turned to Harry—and saw perhaps half of the dorm outside, looking at him with avid curiosity. His ears reddened. "Er, have I woken everyone up?"

Harry arched one amused eyebrow. "Oh no," he answered sarcastically, grinning, "just only about half. Or more."

"Oops." Ron shrugged, smiled in what was supposed to be in an innocuous manner. "Well, it's their fault, they put me through bloody hell last night—the swelling wouldn't subside—hey. Are you laughing?"

"What?" Harry mumbled, looking down as he almost choked on his own laughter. "N-no. 'Course not."

"You're laughing!"

"Okay, maybe a little—"

"I can't believe you're laughing at me," Ron said in a hurt voice, crossing his arms.

"Yeah," Harry snorted—he could tell Ron wasn't really all that offended, else he wouldn't even have dared to smile, "well, you looked pretty funny."

"Did not," Ron muttered stubbornly as he and Harry began to walk down the halls, mumbling quiet apologies as they did so.

"You didn't see yourself," Harry snickered loudly as they walked back into their room. "Oh, yeah. That was because your head was too heavy to even lift!" He cracked up, leaning upon his best friend's shoulder as he was overtaken by high-pitched snickers.

Ron mumbled something that vaguely resembled "You try the lollipops one time, you big prat."

After he was done laughing, Harry sighed cheerfully, happily wiped a tear from his eye, and pulled their door of their room open. Everyone else in the hallway followed suit.

"I can't believe I managed to wake so many people up but I didn't wake up Fred, George, or any of their roommates," Ron said dejectedly as they closed the door behind them.

Harry snorted. "You know them. Fred, George, and Lee can all sleep through an earthquake, and their two other roommates were probably tricked into some magical sleep, with their luck."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"'Course I'm right," Harry said, yawning drowsily. Seamus, Neville, and Dean were all already back in bed, fast asleep. "Now get some sleep. We've probably got another hour of it left."

Ron was shrugging off his shirt and replacing it with a large fuzzy one as he nodded. "Yeah," he yawned as he crept into his bed and pulled the curtains shut.

Moments of silence passed before Harry's quiet voice shattered it.

"Ron?"

"Uh huh?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Um, Mione might—er—act a little weird today. Just thought I should, uh, warn you. Or something."

"Weird? Whaddaya mean? Ron's voice was muffled, as if his face were pressed into a pillow, or something of the sort.

"Um, just, you know. Weird. Different." Harry answered uncomfortably, now mentally hitting himself for initiating such a strange conversation.

"Why would you think so?" Ron's voice was no longer muffled, just openly inquisitive.

"Uhh…" At a loss for a proper response, Harry now mentally threw himself over a cliff. "I don't know. She was just acting really, really…weird last night. Just thought you should know, that's all. Now just sleep," He added quickly, hoping to end the conversation as soon as possible.

"Okay," Harry almost saw Ron nodding in his imagination, "thanks, Harry."

Harry didn't answer anymore; he pretended to fall asleep, as a precaution against Ron inquiring about anything any further.

Hermione still felt dizzy, if not completely sickened. She had barely slept the whole night, and even the thought of Andy was no comfort to her, which was something that had never happened before. It disturbed her, made her even more determined to make thoughts of Andy would manage to chase away all thoughts of Ron.

She irritably yanked the curtains of her bed, pointedly ignored everyone in the room, even Parvati Patil's "Hermione, why are you being so cranky today?" as she began to immerse herself in thoughts and memories of Andy Geller.

Andy Geller, she allowed the now-familiar name to wash over her mind like a comforting caress as she began to dress up. Head Boy of Hogwarts. Well-liked by everyone. Handsome, responsible, intelligent and sweet. The kind of guy that used to only exist in my dreams.

As she washed her face, she began to remember the summer before their fifth year, when she had been on a cruise ship in America with her parents.

She recalled feeling strange, out of place and alone in a place chock-full of Muggles. She called to mind the loneliness that had plagued her (Viktor Krum had just recently broken her heart then), and how she had spent almost half of their weeklong cruise in a well-concealed corner of the ship's library, rereading Hogwarts: A History. She remembered Andy Geller, how he had stumbled onto her, hidden and lonely-looking with a humongous book in her hands. How she had cried out in surprise and instinctively clamped the book shut, fearing that the supposed muggle standing before her would find out about what she was.

Instead, the boy had smiled, and said: "Hogwarts: A History?"

Hermione had stood up, and answered in the calmest, most dignified, possible voice she could have: "Yes, it's an old fiction book. Now if you'll excuse me, I—"

He had breathed a sigh of relief, and his smile deepened. "I'm guessing you're not a muggle, then."

Hermione had almost dropped the book. "You're not a muggle?"

"Dear God, I should hope not," he had responded wryly, "else I don't think I should be writing to a man named Dumbledore." He held out his hand. "Andy Geller. I don't believe we've met."

"No," Hermione had told him. "I don't think so." And then she shook his hand.

What had followed was four days of roaming around on a large ship, many weeks of enjoyable correspondence, and, after those many weeks, a breathtaking kiss that had initiated the start of Hermione's first real relationship.

The fond memories, though, failed Hermione miserably. Thoughts of Ron doodling her name on paper as she swooned over Andy still plagued her, still deeply disturbed her, still persisted in haunting her.

She trudged down into the Great Hall, where she immediately spotted Harry and Ron sitting together at their usual place. Ron's back was turned to her, and she caught Harry's nervous eye for a fleeting second before he bit his lip, beckoned for her to come to them.

Ron's vehement gestures at his own now-normal-sized head halted, and he turned around in order to wave to Hermione, which he did, very enthusiastically. It was something Hermione did not fail to notice.

It made her frustratingly nervous. She looked around for Andy, but to no avail. He didn't seem to be in the vast room at the moment.

Forcing her lips into a wide smile and her legs into motion towards their direction, she waved back at Ron and Harry.

"G'morning," said Harry as she sat down beside him, grinning at her. The smile seemed genuine enough, but Hermione caught his almost imperceptible glance at Ron from the corner of his eye.

"Top of the morning to you, Harry" Hermione replied, soon after furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. That was the first time in years she had ever said 'top of the morning' to anyone—she found herself wondering if she really was that nervous.

"Hiya, Mione." Ron looked up, grinning widely, a piece of the scrambled egg he was eating hanging from his mouth as he spoke. He slurped it into his mouth.

See, she told herself, wrinkling her nose in distaste and allowing a small, amused smile to grow at the same time, no manners at all. No need to think about even comparing him to Andy.

Ron lifted one crimson-toned eyebrow in confusion. "O-kay, Hermione. There's no need at all to answer if you don't feel up to the task," he said, perplexed.

"Sorry," Hermione said quickly, sitting down and studiously avoiding Harry's curious, probing gaze. "Just went a little bit out of it, is all." She waited for about a second or so before food appeared upon her plate. She immediately wolfed it down, eager to get away from Ron as soon as possible.

"Well," Ron said loftily, chewing on his pancake, "you're in a hurry today. Meeting Andy later, or something?"

Hermione pretended not to hear him, and Ron gave Harry a brief look as if to say, "You're right. She's acting mighty strange today."

"So," Harry spoke quietly, breaking the painfully awkward silence between the three of them, "are you meeting with Kaeri today, Ron?"

Before Ron could even answer, an odd, strangled sort of sound escaped Hermione's throat. She began to cough loudly, every single one of them having shorter intervals between the other.

"Yeah, I am." Ron answered quickly, reaching across the table with one long arm to pat Hermione on the back. "You okay, Mione? You sound a little bit like you're choking there."

Hermione instinctively shied away from the warm touch of his fingers upon her skin. "Yeah," she told him as she hurriedly got up. "Just fine. Listen, I think I see Andy across the room. I'll see you guys later, all right?"

"Sure," Harry nodded, "are you sure you're okay now?"

Hermione knew he meant more than just her brief spasm of nervous, choked coughs. But Ron didn't, so she simply gave him a fleeting smile and said yes.

"See you later," said Ron.

"Right," Hermione said before hurrying away, her movements strangely inept.

Ron leaned across the table about a heartbeat later and whispered inconspicuously to Harry: "You're right. She's acting really, really weird."

"I told you so."

"D'ya have any idea why?"

"None," Harry said quietly, before quickly shifting the topic back to Ron's current girlfriend.

Hermione made sure that neither Harry nor Ron saw her slip out of the Great Hall—without Andy, despite what she had told them. She felt rather guilty about lying to her two best friends, but she figured anything was better than the discomfiture she experienced whenever anywhere near Ron.

A minor ache that quickly traveled from her fingertips up her forearm to her shoulder blade told her that she had hit someone; a pleasantly surprised "Mione!" told her it was someone she knew; and the throaty, euphonious voice accented by the familiar Scottish lilt told her that that someone was Andy Geller.

"Sorry about that, Andy." Hermione gave him a weak grin as she bent down to help him pick up the books he had dropped.

"Good morning to you too," Andy gave her a crooked smile, one that, in the past months, Hermione had grown to be deeply fond of. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across her cheek in a caressing kiss.

"'Morning," Hermione replied distractedly, giving him a slight smile.

"You look a little out of it today," Andy said after a few moments of silent scrutiny. "You okay?"

An image of Ron just minutes ago flashed before her eyes, reaching across the table and patting her back as he uttered the same words.

"Make that really out of it," Andy said, his voice tinged with amused fondness as he grinned at her when she didn't answer. "What's up?"

"Lack of sleep," Hermione lied smoothly. "Too much homework to do."

"I can relate," Andy said wryly. "I hope you finish everything before the Christmas break starts."

"I doubt it," Hermione answered, now feeling very guilty for being such a blatant liar to her own boyfriend. She checked her watch and feigned surprise. "Oops. It's almost time for my first class and I don't have any of my stuff yet. I'll see you later."

"Right," said Andy, bending down for a customary short kiss, which Hermione obligingly gave.

Hermione hurried off in the direction of the staircases leading to the Gryffindor common room. One leg was halfway through the portrait of the Fat Lady when a soft, trembling voice called her from behind.

"H-Hermione?"

She turned around in surprise. "Ginny," she said, giving the younger girl a brief, obviously forced smile. "Hi."

"Good morning," Ginny replied. Hermione noticed she was playing very nervously with the sleeves of her robes. "Listen, I just want to apologize for—you know, getting you into this situation. Ron's probably about ready to kill me now, too."

Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Actually—Ron doesn't quite know yet."

Ginny's eyebrows went so high up Hermione wondered for a passing moment if it was possible for one's eyebrows to go past his or her hairline.

"You haven't talked to him about it yet?"

Hermione shook her head and gave her a pleading look with wide eyes glimmering with evident anxiety. "No, and please don't tell him yet. I'm not ready to talk to him about it. Not now."

Ginny nodded, a look of absolute understanding upon her younger features. "Right. I'm really sorry about this."

"I guess it's fine," Hermione responded, "I just wish someone had told me sooner. Before I had a boyfriend."

Ginny's eyes narrowed in a manner that was not even remotely accusatory, it bore more of a semblance to fervent curiosity. "What would you have done if someone did?"

Hermione turned away from her friend as she felt her cheeks burn with the beginnings of a very hot blush. "I don't know," she said despondently, confusedly. "But it would have made everything considerably easier."

"You know," a voice interjected, "It would be also considerably easier for me if you closed me, already."

Both Hermione and Ginny's gazes flew to the other side of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Sorry," they both apologized, before they stepped inside and shut it behind them.

"No harm done," they heard the Fat Lady reply.

Ron laughed softly to himself as he realized he was still touching his head to make sure it hadn't swollen up any.

It's been almost a week since that trick they pulled, he assured himself as he got ready for bed. Your head won't get any bigger than it already is.

He eagerly leapt into bed, his body still aching rather badly from the Quidditch practice earlier that day, and slid the heavy curtains shut.

"Ouch," he muttered into the still, hushed darkness (everyone was still downstairs eating) as something hard dug into his spine. He got up, groped blindly in the shadows of his bed to find out what it was. When he found it, he poked it out of the curtains and held the object up in the bright moonlight in order to see it.

It was a tiny figurine, of the Chudley Canons keeper. The figurine was snoring loudly on his broom. Ron remembered Hermione giving it to him as a gift when he had been appointed the new Gryffindor Keeper in Oliver Wood's place.

He grinned slightly and put it down on the carpeted floor and lay back down, readily prepared to get some sleep.

But it was too late, thoughts of Hermione filtered into his brain.

And so for the next few minutes, he lay awake in the silent darkness, thinking about the same question he had been thinking of since the morning after the lollipop incident.

Why the bloody hell has she been avoiding me?

In order to satiate the irritating, incessant wondering of the little voice in his brain, he began to go through all the relatively plausible answers.

It's not because I've been a prat to her—I hope so, at least—anyway, she'd tell me if ever I was. Huh. And she doesn't seem mad. Just…freaked out.

Can't be because I'm spending too much time with Kaeri again; I mean, I've barely even seen the girl throughout out the week.

The second musing led Ron to rehashing when he had started going out with Kaeri Aston a few months ago. Hermione had gone a little insane, demanding when and where he had met her ("In the Great Hall during the start-of-the-year party,"), and who she was ("She's a fourth year from Ravenclaw, like Andy. She's not a mass murderer, Mione. What's the big deal anyway?"), and why he was going out with a girl he hadn't known for very long ("Because I like her, obviously.").

The incident had blown itself over, and it wasn't long before Hermione had to grudgingly admit that Kaeri seemed nice enough.

Ron sighed loudly, the sound of it echoing oddly in the empty room. The previous memory led him to recalling how he had reacted when he had found out about Andy ("What the bloody hell, Hermione…the Head Boy? That's like dating Percy!"), which led to wondering if it was because of Andy that Hermione was being so strange.

Oh well, he thought, rolling over on his side and closing his eyes, I guess I'll just have to force it out of her tomorrow.

A/N: Long, useless chapter. I basically made this to provide some background info to support the prologue, whee! Sorry if it was boring, I promise the next chapter gets funnier and more interesting. Please r/r! :D Thanks a lot!