On Teenagers & Love

a story by anamatics

Part Two

Chapter Four: On Birthdays

AN: I promise that they will not be apart forever!

Delores Umbridge is a bitch. Hermione cannot stand her, the way she teaches, even the way she bloody moves. Harry's got detention with her for a week already. Hermione tells him to just hold his tongue. He can't, he never could.

"I can't believe you," are the only words that come to mind when Hermione finally finds herself a moment alone with Harry. She's been busy all afternoon, getting a start on her classwork and reading up on the new Educational Decree that enabled the Ministry of Magic to appoint Delores Umbridge to a professorship in the first place.

The library is different without the usual silent study partners that she'd grown used to last year. She resolves to write to Viktor as soon as she has a minute. Her first letter home to Fleur is tucked into her Ancient Runes textbook; she's going to ask Ron if she can borrow Pig to send it when she sees him next. He's got an early prefect patrol with one of the Ravenclaws. Hermione's own assignment is with Pansy Parkinson and she's positively thrilled about it.

"What was I supposed to do?" Harry demands angrily. He's flipping through their Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, frowning at the theory that Hermione thinks is rubbish and muttering to himself, "At least when we had a bloody Death Eater teaching the class, we learned something."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Harry, you can't just run your mouth at her. She was obviously put here for a reason -"

Harry's eyes narrow and he scowls, "Yeah, Hermione, what reason would that be?"

"Dumbledore," Hermione explains in a hushed voice. They're standing in a corridor on the fifth floor, well out of the way of any professors, but she does not know if the portrait of some old nuns (who are currently gossiping behind their hands) might tell anyone else of their conversation. She doesn't know how far Umbridge's control goes. "Fudge thinks that Dumbledore is after his job, he's sent her here to make sure that he's not - I dunno – building an army of school children or something."

Harry runs a hand through his messy hair and Hermione frowns, it's bandaged and obviously still bleeding some. She doesn't mention it, as Harry seems to be trying to not draw attention to it. "The man is barking," Harry agrees.

They turn to leave, the nuns waving behind their hands at Harry as Hermione shoots them a dirty look. They're nuns for God's sake. As they're walking down the corridor, Harry says something that sets the gears in Hermione's mind turning.

"Maybe we should teach ourselves."

They go back to the common room, and Hermione asks Ron if she can use Pig. Ron raises his eyebrows from behind his copy of Quidditch Weekly, but grunts his consent and Hermione leaves once again.

The owlry is off of one of the main wings of the castle, just outside and up a slight hill. Hermione is grateful for her prefects badge as she passes Filtch on her way there. He shoots her a dirty look and she turns her nose up at him as she passes. She understands why he's so miserable working in a school full of magical children when he himself does not have the ability, but his attitude could really use some improvement.

Hermione finds Pig and he nuzzles her fingers affectionately as she hurriedly adds a post script to her letter to Fleur.

P.S. – Harry said something to me today that got me thinking – that if Professor Umbridge turns out to be as horrible a teacher as we anticipate her to be, that we should teach ourselves defense. Do you think that this would be possible?

H

She stays in the owlry until Pig has become nothing more than a tiny speck on the horizon, thinking. Harry will probably never agree to actually teaching, even if he is the one who originally came up with the idea. She will have to work on him, make sure that he's willing to do it. The plan will take time to form, and she'll have to ask Fred and George what textbook they used in defense last year. There are so many variables, her fingers itch to start making a list.

She is three minutes late to her first patrol with Pansy Parkinson and the girl is waiting at the base of the staircase as she heads down it, her face twisted into a frown.

"Sorry," Hermione says quietly, knowing that her best defense against a Slytherin is to be as inoffensive as possible, "I went to the owlry."

Pansy Parkinson sniffs moodily and shrugs, "I don't give a damn what you were doing – you're late, Granger."

Hermione sighs. "I know, it won't happen again."

Hermione Granger is a lot of things, but never late.

Their patrol is fairly inconsequential. They catch some Hufflepuff second years attempting to put firecrackers in Filtch's supply cupboard and a young couple snogging behind a suit of armor. Points are taken on both occasions and it is only then that Hermione starts to relax a little. Pansy Parkinson is not going to jinx her on patrol it seems. Her wand is clenched in between her fingers in the pocket of her robes despite this, she knows better than to trust a Slytherin.

"Why wasn't Potter made a prefect?"

The question is sudden and Hermione is taken aback by it. She stops in the middle of a third floor corridor and stares at her companion. The girl is looking at Hermione curiously, but Hermione can see the malice there, just barely hidden below the venire of polite inquiry.

"No idea," Hermione gives an elaborate shrug.

Pansy Parkinson considers this for a moment before she also shrugs, "He is always in trouble. We all thought that because he's Dumbledore's favorite…"

Hermione laughs then. She's just playing along, but she knows that she has to watch what she says carefully. "Dumbledore would vastly prefer it if Harry stayed out of trouble. Gryffindor House as well."

They share a smile, Harry Potter is notorious for losing Gryffindor points. "Shame about Umbridge," Parkinson laments, "I would have loved to see her take points instead of stick Potter in detention."

"I would rather he just hold his tongue," Hermione shakes her head. She doesn't know if she can say any more, so she doesn't mention that she's terribly worried about how they're all going to pass their Defense OWL if the professor refuses to actually let them learn the practical portion of the subject.

They fall into silence for a while, helping a lost and confused Slytherin first year back to his common room before Pansy speaks once again: "So, did you slip Delacour a love potion or does she go for social degenerates and nerds?"

It is all Hermione can do to not lash out at her then. Her fist is clenched tightly around her wand, five or six curses in mind that could never be traced back to her. She's grateful that Pansy did not call her a mudblood, but the word is still just barely hinted at behind Pansy's more polite way of mocking her blood status.

"For your information, she came on to me," Hermione hisses. Her watch beeps then and she stalks off, their patrol finished.

She has two days of freedom before she's suck with Pansy Parkinson again. She has half a mind to march up to Professor McGonagall and demand a different patrol partner.

Ron looks at her apologetically as she slams the Fat Lady's portrait closed behind her and flops down on the couch beside him.

"What did she say?" he asks.

"She asked me if I used a love potion on Fleur – as if I would have to stoop to such levels when she's obviously been slipping them to Draco Malfoy since second year!"

They laugh then, happy to be together once again and Hermione feels a bit better.

db

Fleur does not respond to her letter for several days, but Hermione is not too worried. She has other things to worry about, Harry has another week of detention from Umbridge and he isn't interested in teaching anyone defense. Hermione is trying to convince him that it's a good idea but he tells her that they'll only get into more trouble and his hand will never, ever heal.

Neville suggests that murtlap might help and Hermione checks up on it before agreeing with him that it should be a good solution since Harry does not want to go to the hospital wing with his nagging and bleeding hand. They get him to soak his hand in a bowl of essence of murtlap and Hermione tries again to talk to him about teaching defense.

"I won't do it," Harry says quietly. "I don't want to borrow any more trouble."

Hermione is secretly proud of him for wanting to stay out of trouble, but does not voice this opinion out loud. She knows what she wants and she'll stop at nothing to get it. Harry is their best option. He's the only one in this entire school who has actually had any combat experience, and he's fairly good at teaching when he sets his mind to it. She has no intention of doing anything less than outstanding on her defense OWL.

"Harry, listen to me, you know how to do this stuff, none of the rest of us do. You know what it's like to fight a real person!" They're glaring at each other, Ron looking warily from one of them to the other and back again. Hermione is grateful that Ginny has gone up to her dormitory now, as she does not think that she'd like the idea of them fighting like this.

Harry scoffs, "Yeah, running scared from Voldemort and getting Cedric killed, I'm a real champion of justice."

Hermione lets it drop. She knows that Harry will do what she wants eventually; it is just a matter of asking and bothering him about it for as long as she can stand it. She's set a goal for the first Hogsmeade visit, as Umbridge has threatened to disband all student organizations. They can't meet for the first time on campus, it just isn't safe.

"Don't be that way," she says quietly, motioning for him to pull his hand out of the essence of murtlap so that she can check on it.

She's positive that Umbridge is using a dark object to do this to Harry, but he won't talk about it. She's seen similar marks on Fred and George's hands, but they're as close-lipped as Harry is – if with far more murderous intent in their eyes.

Harry glares at her as she wipes away the minty smelling fluid and sees that the wounds are finally starting to scab up. "Give it another ten minutes," she says, "And then wash it off before putting the bandage on."

She gathers her things and shares a long look with Ron. He's totally for her idea as well, but has had no less luck persuading Harry to teach them. They're working him from all angles, Hermione has half a mind to get Ginny involved as well.

He'll cave, he always does.

"I'll see you in the morning," she says with a smile, and heads up the stairs to the girl's dormitories.

The next morning she's greeted with a letter back from Fleur and a strong slap on the back from Ron. "Happy birthday!" he says brightly to her as Hermione scowls at him, rubbing her shoulder where he hit her. She wishes he wasn't fifteen years old and full of nervous energy and the strength of an ox. Her shoulder hurts now.

She realizes that yes, today is her birthday, sweet sixteen and all that. It's maddening, to know that she hadn't even thought about it. This is one of the more important birthdays that a girl can have, and she's gone and forgotten.

Hermione realizes that she never told Fleur when her birthday was, and feels suddenly guilty. She remembers the quiet kisses and peaceful evening that she and Fleur spent down by the lake for Fleur's (well, muggle, but Hermione considers turning eighteen far more important that seventeen) coming of age birthday the previous June. It all seems so long ago now, she muses, setting Fleur's letter aside to read later as there's two more owls that are making a beeline for her, as well as the usual owl with the Daily Prophet.

Her parents have sent along a birthday card and several photographs from their time together over the summer. There's a small wrapped package and a note from her mother that the contents were an old family heirloom that she had also received on her sixteenth birthday from her mother. Hermione tears open the package to see the pearl necklace that her mother always wore carefully nestled amid tissue paper and she wants to cry.

Her dad has included a book as well, a slim volume about The French Resistance in World War Two and she can't help but grin. Her father had been most intrigued to hear the revelations of what Hermione had learned about that war the previous year, and Hermione supposes that this is to further supplement her learning.

She has no idea when she'll have time to read it.

The other package is fairly small, around the size for a book wrapped tightly in brown paper. Hermione tears into it as there is no note and finds herself holding a book about veela customs and culture. She frowns, and flips open the inside cover, looking for an inscription. There is one, in maddeningly perfect handwriting:

In case you had any questions. Happy birthday. – F

Hermione grins up at Harry and Ron's curious faces. "It's from Fleur," she says simply and realization dawns on their faces and they both smile as well.

Perhaps this birthday isn't going to be so bad after all.

She reads Fleur's response to her letter under the scrutiny of half the Gryffindor table over breakfast. Hermione hates that she can't get away from them, but she can't wait. She has to read the letter now, she has to know what Fleur has to say.

Hermione –

With each passing day I miss you more than I care to say. Spending the summer with you has spoiled me, made me long for you nightly and set me against myself when I try to sleep alone. I fear that this separation may be more than I can bare, but your words say that you too have felt this pang of loneliness that has no cure.

I long to see you.

I can only count the days and will time to go faster until I can have you once again for the briefest of moments, but it will be well worth it. I have plans for this meeting, Hermione. It is your birthday and you deserve nothing but the best.

I know that you are probably curious about all that I have left unsaid with regards to my heritage. I sent a gift along with the hope that it might answer some of your questions. I would love to talk to you about them when we are reunited.

A line in French follows the end of the English paragraph, and then Fleur has signed her name. Hermione wonders what Fleur could have meant by 'plans' and decides to write her back and ask.

"Hermione you're blushing," Ginny says as Hermione carefully folds the letter back up and tucks it into the book from Fleur. They're all grinning at her over their pumpkin juice and tea.

"Shut it," Hermione mutters and goes back to her breakfast.