Chapter 3
The atmosphere at breakfast the next day was frosty, to say the least. Unfortunately, Harry was the last to arrive at the table, which left Ron and Hermione stewing in tense silence until his appearance. The Boy-Who-Lived had barely enough time to snatch a piece of toast and pour himself a glass of pumpkin juice before Ron pounced.
"Fancy a game of Quidditch at lunch, Harry?"
Irritated, Hermione jumped in. "Don't be so silly. Harry has more important things to do, Ron; studying for exams and preparing for his training with Moody tonight, for instance."
"Harry would like the pair of you to shut up and leave him out of your mess, thanks very much," Harry growled in response.
From then on Hermione and Ron studiously ignored one another, while Harry was so fed up with the pair of them that he sat engrossed in his newest defence book for the entire meal and didn't bother saying anything else.
Classes that day passed in mutinous silence, and it wasn't until later that evening that Hermione had a chance to talk to Harry alone. With Ron gone to work out his stress on the Quidditch pitch, she took her chance and sat down opposite Harry at the table he was working at.
After a few minutes of watching him flick and twitch his wand in a complicated pattern, Hermione frowned.
"What's the spell you're working on? I'm not sure I recognise it," she asked, nonplussed.
"And Hell freezes over," Harry joked, drolly.
She hit him lightly on the arm. "Seriously, Harry."
He sighed and put down his wand. "It's a new shield charm Moody taught me. Supposed to shield and repel all spells 'cept the Unforgivables and four times as strong as protego."
"Ooh, how fascinating," she replied, eyes alight. "Can you teach me?"
He snorted. "Can't even teach myself at this point. I don't think I have the wand movement quite right – I'll have to ask Moody to go over it again next time I see him."
She nodded, not able to completely contain her disappointment. "How are those lessons going anyway?"
Dumbledore had arranged for a few members of the Order to give Harry some private tuition in addition to his usual classes. He was taught advanced battle and defence by Mad-Eye Moody, while Kingsley Shakelbolt helped out with strategy pointers when he was able.
Harry shrugged. "It's good, really good when I get the lessons. Problem is that I don't get much time with them anymore, what with the Order strung so tight trying to protect everyone and fight off these constant attacks."
He scrubbed at his eyes with a tired hand. "Not that I'm complaining – everyone's so busy these days trying to stay alive that I understand why teaching is cancelled so often – it's just..."
"Arming you with the tools to defeat Voldemort should be one of their main priorities, Harry. It's okay to feel a little annoyed," she said gently.
He shook his head. "I'm not angry. I'm just," he gave a self-deprecating laugh; "I suppose I'm just scared 'cos I know I'm nowhere near ready to meet him again."
She nodded, unable to find anything particularly reassuring to say. "If you ever want to use me as target practice, I'm willing and able – I'll just make sure we have a good supply of cushions if you're practicing stunning again!"
He cracked a smile. "Thanks, Hermione."
She paused, and then decided to bring up the topic playing on her mind before Harry became engrossed in his work again.
"Harry, did you leave a note in my room last night?"
He looked up at her confused. "No, couldn't have even got up into your room – you know my cloak doesn't work on those stupid stairs." He paused to look at her. "Why?"
She shrugged. "Someone left me a message but didn't give their name – just trying down to narrow down who it might have been."
Harry looked worried. "What did it say? You sure it wasn't a trick? Voldemort might be trying to get to you."
She laughed. "Harry, stop being paranoid! You-Know-Who isn't involved in everything mysterious that goes on around here."
When he continued to look worried, she smiled reassuringly and patted his arm. "Don't worry, it didn't say anything important. Just a trivial little message that caught my curiosity – you know what I'm like!"
He breathed out, relieved. "Okay, good."
When she made to stand up, he quickly added, "Look, how long is this thing with you and Ron going to go on?"
"Harry," she sighed. "You know I don't like arguing with him-"
"So why do you?" he asked obstinately.
"Because he's so infuriating sometimes I just can't help it! I won't apologise for what I said Harry. He's in the wrong, and I can't stand his attitude towards Geoff at the moment."
"Look," Harry added, "about him..."
"Oh, not you too," she sighed. "Look, I'm not asking you both to become best friends with him – I'm asking you to trust me when I say he's a good person who doesn't deserve the shunning he's enduring at the moment. "
"It's just a little suspicious, Hermione," he continued slowly.
"So what if it is. That doesn't make him evil – whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty anyway?"
"It doesn't exist in wartime. My parents believed in innocent until proven guilty and look where that got them," he answered shortly.
There was silence for a moment. In the end, Hermione sighed and asked bluntly, "Do you trust me, Harry?"
He looked away and muttered "yes" very quietly.
"Good. Then I'm asking you to just place your faith in me for this."
He scrubbed at his face again, before groaning loudly. "Fine! In return, you have to make up with Ron. I can't stand being bounced between the two of you for much longer. It's not fair, and I have enough to cope with at the moment as it is."
At those words Hermione felt a red hot trickle of shame course its way through her body. Harry was worrying himself sick over the people that might be dying this second at the end of Voldemort's wand, and here she was making life harder, rather than easier, for him.
Guiltily, she nodded. "I'll try, Harry. I promise I'll try."
"Thanks." He shifted his book around on the table. "Well... I better get back to work. Moody always seems to know when I'm not prepared, and believe me, his spells hurt."
"Of course," she said quickly, standing up. "It's about time I did some studying of my own anyway. Night, Harry."
He waved absentmindedly, already concentrating on his spell work again. "Night."
Climbing the stairs, Hermione felt tendrils of nervousness curl inside her at the thought that there might be another message waiting for her as there had been the two previous nights. Upon entering her room, however, everything seemed exactly as she had left it, and, despite a thorough search of her bed covers, no mysterious notes were forthcoming.
Irritated at herself for getting so worked up about something so trivial, Hermione grabbed her Transfiguration textbook and snuggled into bed. The room, for once, was absolutely silent; presumably the other girls were out stalking the next unfortunate boy to fall prey to their charms. Happy that she would at least get some quality time with her books, Hermione settled down for an evening of quiet study.
