Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Chapter 3: Denial

'That could have gone better.'

Hermione had gone to such trouble to get the Murtlap for Harry too. At least he fixed the bowl. Ron shared a glance with her as they headed up to bed. He shrugged, mouthing 'could have been worse' at her before following Harry up the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

This was a good idea though. Getting Harry to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts would not only help them learn to defend themselves, but bring them together. The tense atmosphere that had enveloped Hogwarts since the start of term was not her home. Better still, by doing this perhaps Harry would not have all this pent up frustration and anger boiling inside of him. It would be a release.

Harry would need time to come to his senses. Ron had always been more willing to talk about these things. With Harry it was like pulling teeth. Ron argue and discussed. Harry brooded before blowing up or taking action. He'd blown up at them, now all there was would be action.

Of course, she would have to take action first.

A place for classwork Umbridge couldn't find. A means to ensure no one spoke of it. There was a book in the library on magical contracts. It would be best to check I out in the morning. She'd always been curious about it anyways. There just had been so many more interesting topics to browse in the library and she'd put it on her list for seventh year since that would be just before she left for whatever career she settled on and contracts would probably be needed in some form or another…

Hermione braided her hair, trying to ensure it would be at its best when she needed to brush it in the morning. She would ask Ron about contracts before breakfast. He was always surprising when it came to knowledge. Half the time he didn't know a lick about a subject she had assumed he knew about and the other half of the time he knew more about subjects than she did in an area that she never would have suspected.

Ron was what she considered an obsessive intellectual, though she would never admit to it out loud. He didn't care about the academic curriculum, which honestly drove her mad at times, but if something piqued his interest even in the smallest manner, he obsessively took in everything about it. She'd once discovered that he knew everything and anything there was to do with wizarding folklore and fiction.

Upon discovering this, she'd browsed the fiction shelves of Flourish and Blotts, for anything she thought Ron might like. She rarely partook in leisure reading, as she'd begun to refer to it the last few years. There were far too many useful things to learn in her nonfiction books to spend time in the pages of imaginary worlds with inaccurate facts.

By the end of her visit she'd picked out three good ones. A mute wizard possessed by Rowena Ravenclaw, having to work together with a deaf Minister of Magic and a blind seer to defeat a series of dark wizards called 'Words Fail Me.' Another good one she'd found was 'Wayward Son' telling the story of a young wizard developing frightening abilities and accidentally killing his best friend with them. Hermione had paused, thought better on it, and placed that book back. The final book though was safe enough, a man obsessed with Quidditch makes a deal with a demon for fame, but ends up giving up something even more important. This last one would really pull at Ron what with its theme. She'd glanced at the title at checkout: 'Damn Tornados.'

She hadn't given him both at once. That was planning to fail rather than failing to plan. Instead she got Harry to put the Quidditch one on Ron's bedside. Harry had given her a look, but she dismissed his exasperation and instead waited anxiously for any signs that the bait had been taken.

There were no signs at all.

She waited a week. A month. Then as the hope died and the second book remained in her own trunk, she muttered darkly for a few days and slowly forgot about it. It wasn't until sixth months later, over the summer holidays between third and fourth year, that she found the book, spine broken and pages leafed and marked by oiled fingers tucked under Ron's bed.

The sly arse.

She'd found his literary niche.

It became a sort of game for her. One that neither of them ever mentioned out loud to anyone; not even each other. She would slip a book somewhere that only Ron would find it and it would disappear. She never once caught Ron reading any of the books. No one caught Ron reading these books. She knew he did though, because soon after the book was delivered, it would arrive abused and ruffled and a little broken under the bed.

Then he moved to a special expanded box with so many locks and charms on it that even Hermione could not break the stupid thing. She was overwhelmed by exasperation and amusement. To go this far so no one would know he liked books. He was absolutely infuriating. Not even useful books.

She wondered where he went to read.

It was probably some place open yet secluded, maybe one of the towers…

She shook her head to rid herself of such thoughts. Finding Ron's secret nook was not her priority right now. Being ready for what was coming was. They would need to be able to communicate without it appearing like they were. Oh, this was exciting, wasn't it? Like they were secret society.

A secret society for the defense of wizarding kind against the forces of oppression and magic. There was an acronym in there somewhere. She only hoped it was more successful, more popular than S.P.E.W. The thought caused her shoulders to slump as she crawled under the covers. Well, this involved people and people's problems, so it probably would be. No one wanted to deal with the problems of those they saw as inferior, only with the problems they themselves had after all…

She thought of third year, when she'd been too busy to put her full attention on the research for Buckbeak and Ron had stepped in. Driving himself into the ground finding reasons to keep the hippogriff alive. Ron would side with her in S.P.E.W. She just needed to talk to him with a different approach in mind. She was sure.

For now she slept with thoughts of DADA and a way to break the Ministry's control over Hogwarts. They needed a place where that horrible woman wouldn't be able to interfere.

It was the next morning that that she found Ron already had an idea. He stabbed at his most recent paper for the toad; Ministry Laws In Concerns To Public Misconduct.

"She hates kids," Ron said through a mouthful of blueberry muffin. "There's no way in Merlin's sagging breaches that she'll be anywhere near Hogsmeade in October. It gives Harry time to sort it out in his head and us time to spread the word Cognito like."

"And no one will think twice about Hogwarts students gathering in Hogsmeade!" Hermione said excitedly, her mind already going over all the different possibilities. "Who do you think we should invite?"

Ron swallowed and stuffed his papers in the bag as Harry came into the great hall.

"I say we keep it to people who can keep their mouths shut, you know? Colin's a sweet kid and he'd be there in a gif, but I'm pretty sure he twitters more than Pig. Maybe later when its more set in stone and there's less of a chance of this blowing up on us, we can expand, but for now…"

"I agree."

Harry sat down and Ron immediately started loading Harry's plate up with bacon and toast, pouring Harry a glass of milk as well. Hermione smiled to herself, ducking her head down into her book so neither boy could see.

Colin showed up anyway, toting his little brother with him, much to the chagrin and exasperation of Ron and Hermione.

Ron was this close to throwing Zacharias Smith out of the Hog's Head, smarmy little mouth first. Listening to Harry speaking of Voldemort's return, the tense way his shoulders locked up as he made his stance clear on not speaking about that night, Ron couldn't help but feel proud of his mate. He'd half expected Harry to bail when more than twenty students shuffled into the bar. Instead he'd stood his ground and took over Hermione's introduction like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"Look," Harry said and for the first time since this meeting began, everyone fell silent. "I… I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but… I had a lot of help with all that stuff…"

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael Corner at once. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying…"

"Yeah, well-" Harry started to say, trailing off.

Ron snickered a bit, but Hermione nudged him hard in the ribs, giving him a look. He rolled his eyes. Adjusting himself to keep himself awake. He was absolutely exhausted, though he hadn't really done much today.

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer," said Susan Bones.

"No," Harry agreed. "No, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is-"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" Zacharias Smith interrupted again. Done. Ron was done. He stood slightly, staring down at the little shit so that their eyes met.

"Here's an idea," Ron spoke loudly, making it clear that anyone else who wanted to interrupt one more time would be getting the same treatment. "Why don't you shut your mouth?"

Zacharias flushed, leaning back with a wince, but he didn't go down immediately.

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it."

"That's not what he said," snarled Fred.

George tilted towards Zacharias, giving a vicious grin.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?"

Ron saw George pull out a Zonko's brain wand, meant to send the victim into a paranoid frenzied state that lasted a good ten minutes.

"Or any part of your body, we're not fussy about where we stick this," Fred casually added.

"Yes well," Hermione said quickly, evidently wanting to take back control of the situation before either of the twins could make good on their promise. He thought it was a bit funny that she hadn't immediately come to the defense of the much younger student, but guessed that even Hermione could see the little git deserved it. "Moving on… the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"

Ron didn't hear what anyone had to say as the next second he was seeing white and black spots as his head blazed with pain. He clutched at it, tensing as he reached for his pocket where the headache drought was only to find it empty. He mentally cursed, holding still and hoping to ride out the worst of everyone was too distracted by Harry.

Eventually the pain sizzled out to a minor painful throb that was manageable. Before he knew it, he felt paper being shoved into his hands. He blinked slowly, the white gone, but black dots in front of his vision more pronounced now. As the world twisted around him, he suddenly wasn't sure if the two sips of butterbeer he'd taken wanted to stay in his stomach.

He clutched at the thing in his hands, feeling it crinkle a little under his hold. It was a paper. A list of names. Their names for the group. Ron eyed the thick material, feeling something off about it as it laid heavily against his skin. More so than regular paper should.

"Who?" He mumbled.

Hermione was watching him. Ron looked up to see her anxious face eyeing the quill in his hands and he knew… Hermione had done something to this to ensure it wouldn't be broken. Trusting her implicitly, Ron signed his name just under hers. He nodded to her, wondering if she could see how he felt or what he knew from his expression.

The paper quickly left his hands.

It went around until everyone had signed, though Ron hardly noticed, wondering where the hell he'd put the bottle of headache drought. He was so sure he'd kept it on him since they were going so far from the dorms. Normally he kept it in a drawer and simply went back to their room if he needed some, but…

"Alright there, Ronnie?" George asked.

Ron jerked, nodding his head in the vague direction his brother was in. Ron could be on fire surrounded by Death Eaters and he'd still give his brothers the same answer. Nothing good ever happened from admitting otherwise.

They were talking about locations and Ron had this odd picture of them all gathering in a secret lair of some sort, like the Chamber of Secrets under the school, but quickly tossed the idea. Even if they could convince Harry of opening the stupid thing, he could guarantee half the people would get to the bottom, see the bones and start climbing back up the pipe. He mumbled something about McGonagall's classroom, hardly paying attention when it was readily dismissed.

People disappeared rather quickly. Truly it was as if he blinked and they were all gone. He heard Hermione and Harry discussing things. He followed them when they stood up, leaving his nearly full butterbeer on the table. The too sweet taste had left him feeling off. Not quite sick, but close enough that he figured drinking it might just do the trick. The place was filthy anyways, which was probably the reason for the off taste. He usually loved butterbeer and he felt bad wasting Harry's money since he'd bought all three of them drinks.

"Ron!"

"Sorry?" Ron mumbled, looking up to see both Harry and Hermione staring at him. "I… what?"

A strange look crossed Hermione's face.

"It's probably better you didn't hear that anyways," Hermione sighed. "I want to go buy a quill. Give me a minute."

"You alright there, Ron?"

"Just…" Ron gestured vaguely outwards, as if Hogsmeade could offer him an excuse for how absentminded he'd been today. "…peachy," he finished lamely.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him to which Ron smiled back weakly.

Ron was eyeing her coolly, wholly unimpressed with her hats and her buttons, and by extension- her. Hermione stood her ground, holding out her S.P.E.W support button.

"No."

"I'm not asking you to make hats or help me. I just want you to wear the pin, or do you support slavery?" Hermione hissed.

"Good on you, winning arguments through accusations," Ron growled. "Look, it's unfair and horrible that they're enslaved, but you're going about this the wrong way."

"Oh?" she said coldly, stabbing a finger in Ron's direction. "Then how would you go about it? By having them make you a sandwich? Laughing when cruelty is shown to them?"

Knowing exactly was she was on about, Ron glowered.

"Kreature is an asshole. He's a twisted little twat who deserves to have his dearest desire given to him; his head on a spike." Furious, Hermione opened her mouth to retort when she found Ron's hand being held up, directly in front of her. "That's who he is, his personality, his soul, and he has to take responsibility for himself just like everyone else."

"He has been abused his whole life! He is simply what he was forced to be. Don't you think if he was shown kindness or compassion, that if he was free then he could have turned out differently?"

"You see, right there, that's what I have a problem with," Ron told her. "You speak about house elves like pets, like they aren't their own person but solely an inferior creature without the ability to think or talk for themselves."

Ron pointed at her hats, covered not so subtle like at the edge of the common room's couch, by a misplaced blanket.

"Instead of working with them you act as if you know better than them. Instead of talking with them you talk for them. They deserve to be free, but traumatizing them and tricking them into it isn't the way to do this. You're so impatient that you're unwilling to wait even when its what they might need. They might need you to do this slowly, they might need to consider this in steps. You're right, they have been enslaved for a long time and mistreated. Dobby was and he wanted to be free. That shows that there are some that are ready, but tricking them? That's only going to set the very species you want to help against you!"

She felt her lip tremble and bit down hard to force it to stop.

"Then how would you suggest I do this then? Huh? Any bright ideas? Or are you fresh out?" She stabbed at him.

"Can you guys take this somewhere else?" Lee Jordan asked, wearily. He had a book propped open and what looked like N.E.W.T.S level Transfiguration homework beside him. Hermione blushed, peeved and embarrassed that she had indeed let her voice raise higher and higher as the exchange of heated words had so quickly developed into an argument.

"Ronald and I have to do rounds anyways," Hermione muttered quietly. It looked as if that was the last thing Ron wanted to do in that moment, but he nodded sharply, grabbing his bag to drop off in the dorms above.

It took Ron much longer to come down than it should have and she found her bad mood worsening rapidly at the wait. At the sight of his expression she knew this patrol would be painful. He looked stiff with anger, but as he passed her, it seemed that his mood was not because of her.

"Seamus had a go at me," Ron said simply. "Let's get out of here."

She nodded, sympathy replacing her soured mood somewhat. Dean had shown up in Hogsmeade, offering up no words for the absent Gryffindor. The division in the school was escalating in severity even as most agreed that Umbridge was unbearable and wanted her gone. The decrees were increasing by the day and the tyrannical woman showed no signs of stopping.

More than the school though, Hermione knew that Ron was suffering from a division in the family as well. Percy's choice was known among the Ministry of Magic, but few in Hogwarts were aware of the third eldest son's row and subsequent removal from the Weasley family.

Ron had looked so excited when he'd first gotten that letter, despite claiming that Percy was a being a prat about the whole thing with his parents. Afterwards… it was clear the letters contents, demanding he sever ties with Harry had damaged his relationship with his big brother. For the first time ever Hermione was not jealous that Ron's family was so involved in the magical world and didn't even want to consider what her own parents would say or how they would feel if they were aware of the turmoil surrounding her world.

And then the article had come out.

Harry had been too busy reading the paper to notice, but Percy's backing of Umbridge in the Daily Prophet had caused Ron's eyes to glaze over and a haunted look to flicker across his face before he shook himself of it. But Hermione had seen. Could not unsee. This whole debacle was affecting Ron far more than he was willing to admit.

"He'll come around," she reassured him, the earlier argument forgotten.

"Maybe," Ron said stiffly, shrugging as they heading towards the north tower for their assigned area.

It wasn't such a terrible night. A few lost second years trying to find the Divination's classroom to see if they wanted to take it the following year as an elective. A sixth year Ravenclaw carrying too many books who they helped to the general area of the house entrance. Ron had 'let her' help a young third year Hufflepuff who'd been crying alone in one of the abandoned classrooms. Simply saying that she knew he'd botch it up horribly so it was best to just get to the part where she fixed it.

It was after she talked the girl down and they sorted things out that Hermione realized something was wrong. Ron was no longer standing just outside the classroom looking decidedly out of place and lost. Instead he was sitting on the ground, legs loosely spread out before him, appearing dazed.

"Ron?!" Hermione crouched down and touched his forehead, not feeling a fever or chill. "What's wrong? Why are you on the floor?"

"I'm okay," Ron reassured her. "I got dizzy all of a sudden. Had to sit down."

Without thought, she sat down next to him, her side against his.

"Six inches," he teased her, but there was an exhaustion that simply hadn't been there before. She played along anyways.

"I'll have you know, Ronald, that last month our dear Professor had me write a three-foot essay on The Proper Behavior of a Woman of Magic. I'm practically a bonified expert in my field."

"Do tell?" Ron snickered. "Well you've met your match then. I myself presented a very posh piece on The Responsibilities of a Respected Working Member of Society. I do think that our dear Head Inquisitor is trying to tell me something, but for the life of me, I can't figure it out."

They broke down into giggles there in the hall.

"Really though," Ron said more seriously, "I've mentally written a manuscript titled; How to murder your Hogwarts Professor and Get Away With it- I even have practice exercises on Snape in little side notes throughout the book. If we don't do anything about this soon, I might start using the text for 'homework assignments.'"

Hermione guffawed, nudging him hard in the shoulder.

"I suppose your first suggestion is in there."

"Poison is chapter two, right after -Homicide With Humor."

Hermione looked sideways at Ron, noting the dampness gleaming along his neck. The dark shadows under his eyes seemed to have developed a life of their own. Ron needed more than just a nap. He looked truly worn down. She knew he'd been struggling with the O.W.L.S workload they'd been getting, but she hadn't realized it had been getting to him this badly. She vowed to leave the S.P.E.W stuff for a much later date and to help him a bit by checking over his work.

Anything but this clear struggling.

Ron's observation during the meeting turned out to be true. Decree number twenty-four: The disbandment of all organizations showed up not long after the meeting in Hogsmeade and Hermione admitted to jinxing he paper. He probably never would have noticed if he hadn't been feeling so under the weather the whole time. His attention span had zeroed in on the five feet directly around him and refused to notice anything else which meant mainly Hermione, Harry and his shoes.

They were heading down to potions after ensuring the Hedwig would be taken care of by Grubbly-Plank. Whoever would attack an owl just to get to the letter meant for a fifteen-year-old had serious issues, as far as Ron was concerned. The ridiculous paranoid actions they'd all been taking now seemed not so ridiculous at all and Ron would have to remember to keep his own letters more vague despite the fact that he didn't think anyone would think to check his letters. The thought of anyone thinking he had anything important to say was laughable. Still, they might consider that Harry was using Ron's name on letters to send out information. It was a possibility and Ron had been used to get letters to Sirius before so…

His head throbbed. He resisted the urge to reach up and touch it. Stumbling only a little down the stairs to the dungeons. He suddenly realized how knackered he was and the idea of going down to face Snape in potions left him feeling very nearly overwhelmed.

It was exhausting to deal with it all and Ron had the sinking feeling that whatever was wrong with him was much worse than chronic headaches. So far each time he'd been forced to see Pomfrey, she'd been able to pinpoint a particular spot of damage immediately. His head for the concussion in first year and the bite wound on his finger from the baby dragon. A few scrapes and bruises in second year after going down into the Chamber of secrets. His leg and arm in third year. She had never done a full body examination before.

Whatever was wrong with him though, he'd rather deal with than have the exam. Anything was better than getting that exam. Maybe even dying. Maybe not dying. Ron messaged his head, trying not to let thoughts of everyone knowing filter through. Well, not everyone, Pomfrey would never disclose it, but…

"Don't rise," he heard Hermione warn. "It's what he wants."

Ron looked up to see what she was talking about only to spot Draco Malfoy smirking at them. 'Bollocks,' Ron thought, clenching his fists. 'Smarmy little bastard, what is he on about now?'

"I mean," Malfoy raised his voice, "if it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance."

A chance at what!? What had he missed? Ron frowned as Draco continued.

"From what my father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years… And as for Potter… My father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's, apparently they've got a special word for people whose brains have been addled by magic."

Malfoy made a grotesque face, eyes rolling and tongue hanging out. Crabbe and Goyle laughed on cue. Ron opened his mouth to tell Malfoy to shove off when he heard Hermione gasp behind him.

"Neville, no!"

A body swept passed him, brushing his shoulder. Ron blinked in surprise as Neville raised his fist to pound Malfoy's face in- but not quite fast enough. Harry had leaped into action, grabbing Neville by the back of his robes and hauling him back. Ron could see his own shock reflected on Malfoy's face.

"Help me!" Harry cried out as Neville struggled against Harry's hold looking ready to tear Malfoy apart. Ron finally moved, grabbing Neville around the chest and helping Harry pull him back away from the horror struck Slytherine.

An elbow jabbed him in the head and for a second all Ron saw was white. His grip loosened a bit, but he held on even as it felt as if his head split open. One of Neville's arms got loose and this time when Ron got hit on the shoulder, not even very hard, he felt his world tilt anyways. As if a bludger had collided with him.

He hit the floor hard and clutched at his head. When he opened his eyes, he couldn't see. Everything felt off balance and too bright. He got his arms under him, but it was hard. Too hard. His legs came next and it was like he was standing on a rotating disk. He closed his eyes, but that seemed to only make him more aware of the way his body sloshed back and forth.

Someone tried to help him up, but the motion was too much. He tried to say as much, but it was like his mouth was filled with honey. Words were going in and out around him. He clutched at the person by him as he tried to blink away the spots.

"…gulations Mr. Longbottom, you've given your housemate a concussion."

'Not Neville's fault,' Ron's mind tried to defend. 'It's mine, I should have…'

Arms forced him up before he was ready. His knees were weak beneath him and he tried to keep them steady, but they lurched one way or the other. There were stairs in front of him now. Ron clutched at the railing for dear life and became aware of a harried babbling.

It was Neville."

"I'm sorry, sorry, I didn't… I'm so stupid… I shouldn't have…"

Harry was shushing him. Ron felt Harry readjust his hold on him. Neville, who'd let go at the stairs, was hovering worriedly out of the corner of Ron's eye. He reached out to place a hand reassuringly on his shoulder, but his knuckles hit the place over Neville's heart instead and rather than the 'It's alright, I'm fine, don't worry' that he wanted to come out, what really did was:

"As fin' don't ry."

"Right," he heard Harry mutter. "Right."

At the top of the stairs, Neville had to pry Ron's fingers from the banister. He tried to tell them that if they just let him be for a minute, he'd be fine. He only needed to sit for a bit and he'd be right as rain.

"How hard did you hit your head?" Harry asked halfway to the medical wing.

Ron looked blankly at him.

"I didn't."

"Guess that's answer enough," Neville muttered, looking very guilty.

"Not your fault," Ron finally managed passed the honey and glob. Was his tongue swollen? He bit it a little to see, but it didn't feel any larger than normal. He tasted copper and realized he might have bit down a little too hard. "Mine."

There was an incredulous snort.

It was getting easier to see though and the world was righting itself. His steps became more sure and he could stand somewhat on his own. It wasn't until his knees strengthened and he felt he could take his own weight that he gently pushed Harry away from him.

"It's okay. It's okay. I can walk. I'm okay."

"I don't think…" Neville said worriedly.

Ron steadied himself, blinking hard and swallowing the blood so they couldn't see.

"Medical Wings right there, why don't you two head back? I'll go in and get myself fixed up and meet you for…"

His mind went blank as he tried to think of what class they had next.

"Trelawney's class," Neville reminded quietly.

"Right, up lots of stairs in the tower. I think I might…. Stay in the medical wing for that," Ron said uneasily, feeling sick just thinking about it. "Go, I got this."

They could hear her talking to another student, so Ron sat down in one of the waiting chairs.

"Maybe I should tell her you're here," Neville said nervously, moving from foot to foot.

"Nah," Ron said, trying hard for casual. "She'll be out in a minute and she'll whip up some gross thing for me to drink and I'll be fit to tell our dear divinations teacher about how Malfoy's dress was on fire because he was having tea with a dragon in my dreams last night."

He winked. The relieved air around Neville was worth the head rush. Harry still looked hesitant so Ron leaned back in his chair and put the back of his hand on his forehead.

"But if you feel the need to stay and care for my poor ailing mind, I could use a few treacle tarts from the kitchens," he opened his eyes in time to see Harry rolling his eye at him.

"Alright, we're going, I'm sure Hermione will be happy to go through all of her notes with you for Snape's class," Harry added, an evil glint in the git's eyes.

"I hope you'll make up for it with your beautiful doodles where your notes are supposed to be," Ron shot back.

Neville was smiling now and Ron waved them both away. He listened to their footsteps until it was clear they'd left this wing of the castle altogether. Glancing at Pomfrey's office door, Ron stood up on unsteady legs and fled the hospital wing himself.