Chapter Seventeen
Ron shot out of his seat, staring down at her. His expression shifted between concern and anger.
She hurried to get her admission out. "Draco said that—" Hermione didn't think it was possible, but Ron's expression became even more furious. "Draco?" He hissed.
She stood up, hoping to gain more courage in doing so. She crossed her arms defensively.
"Yes, well, you see, Draco, uh, has been working with Cedric. Against Voldemort. Because he knew what was coming and—" Ron cut her off again, rudely.
"Hermione"—Ron began pacing around the room—you really believe him?" She gave up on her intricately planned speech.
"Ron, he saved me during the Second Task, do you really think that's something the old Dr—him would do?"
She tried her best to refrain from using his first name.
It had become a habit over the past few hours; whenever she thought of him.
She refused to dwell on the notion that she'd thought about him at all.
"No, but he probably did it because he has some sick ulterior motive! This is Malfoy we're talking about! He's probably trying to manipulate you, Hermione!"
Ron's face reddened as he gesticulated wildly; in any other situation it would be hilarious.
But now, she was worried that she'd made a mistake. She dropped her arms to her side.
"You really think I'm that gullible?" He faltered. They'd stopped a few paces away from each other.
She could feel her magic radiating out in weak, nervous waves around her.
Ron's tense posture lessened as he dropped back down onto the couch, his head in his hands. She resumed her place next to him.
"Of course you're not gullible Hermione—you may not be the most socially adept—"
She shot him a nasty glare, which he purposefully ignored, "but some people are skilled at concealing their true motives, especially if they've been raised to do so their whole lives. You need to be careful."
His worried gaze sobered her. She'd known all along, of course, that Draco's involvement could be for dishonest reasons. But she had been careful.
"I need some time to think about this, it's a lot. I'm going for a walk—for real this time," he walked out of the room before she had time to react.
She deflated against the couch. The sound of her breathing and the crackling of the common room fire were the only sounds.
After a few moments, a tired-looking Harry strode into the common room, followed by Ron.
Ron refused to look at her. Maybe he's not as mature as I originally thought.
She scoffed under her breath. The tense atmosphere was immediately apparent to Harry.
"Guys, is everything alright?" He looked between them skeptically.
Harry appeared paler than usual. Hermione glanced at Ron—who was still refusing to look at her. She hoped he played along.
"Yeah, I just bumped into Malfoy on the way back to the common room. It was just...unpleasant, is all."
She hadn't realized how weird it would feel to revert back to using Draco's last name.
Ron narrowed his eyes at her, turning to look at Harry. After a few beats of silence, he relented.
"Hermione was just telling me how awful Malfoy had been to her, she walked in here practically in tears," Ron settled next to her on the couch, a bit stiffly.
"I was leaving to go find him."
It was Hermione's turn to glare at him. Harry fit himself next to them on the couch.
"I'm sorry that happened, Hermione. But guys, tonight's detention was different from any of the others."
Harry winced, as if in pain.
"Unlike any of the other nights, I was on my way out, but Umbridge wrenched my hand away from the doorknob. She hadn't been physically violent before—though she alluded to wanting to do so very often," he shuddered.
"Anyways, the moment her hand closed around my wrist, my scar started burning relentlessly; the longer the contact went on, the worse it hurt. She has to be working with Voldemort."
Hermione wrung her hands, willing them to stay in her lap.
"It could just be a coincidence, couldn't it? The only one who ever made your scar hurt with physical touch was Voldemort himself, and there's no way to really transfer that quality to other people, from what I've studied.." she trailed off.
"Regardless, you have to tell Dumbledore, Harry. From what you mentioned the other night, about your hand—" Harry scoffed.
"All Dumbledore cares about is showing me off as the Boy Who Lived. He wouldn't even look at me during my trial, and I haven't seen him since the Welcome Feast." Harry stood up, turning to face them.
"It seems like all he cares about is my scar, and even then, only because it's a direct line to Voldemort." Harry's voice became increasingly bitter as he spoke.
Neither of them knew what to say; it seemed like Harry was right.
"What about Professor McGonagall then? Or—" Harry shook his head.
"I'm going to write Sirius." She stood to match him, Ron following soon after.
"Harry, it's too dangerous. Besides, Moody specifically said not to write to any of the Order members or allude to them in any way."
Harry was silent for some time, looking between her and Ron.
"That's why you two are going to help me develop a code."
Despite her initial reluctance, Hermione couldn't help but admit that writing a coded letter was quite fun.
Ron appeared to be saving his thoughts about Draco for later, which she was grateful for.
They'd finished the letter after an hour of poring over minute details and rereading it repeatedly.
"Well, I don't think there's anything we missed," she said.
They'd decided to encode a message about Umbridge's concerning behavior and Hagrid's continued absence. She stifled a yawn.
They'd stayed awake for much longer than she'd anticipated; she looked forward to getting some rest.
"Seems foolproof to me," Harry said, in slightly better spirits.
Ron said nothing, choosing instead to head up to the boy's dorms.
She hoped his anger would subside with time.
"Thanks for helping, Ron," Harry called. Ron waved lazily as he disappeared around the corner.
"And you, too, Hermione." She glanced at the letter, hoping they weren't making a mistake. "Of course, Harry."
At breakfast, a new publication of the Daily Prophet elicited whispers among the students and staff.
From what she could catch from gossip—until she read it herself, at least—it appeared that the front page article was dedicated to a supposed sighting of Sirius in London.
The article also centered around the fact that Sturgis Podmore—who Hermione had never once seen during the Order meetings—had attempted to break into the Ministry.
Besides his involvement in the Order, she knew nothing of him.
Except that now he was sentenced to six months in Azkaban.
"Do you think it could've been a trap? To lure the rest of the Order members out?" she whispered to Harry and Ron.
Ron shrugged; seemingly still cross with her, whereas Harry seemed to be putting the pieces together.
"Now that you mention it, that sounds pretty reasonable, Hermione."
He shoveled a few spoonfuls of eggs into his mouth before speaking again.
"When I was in the owlery to fetch Hedwig, I bumped into Luna. She was really upset that Umbridge denied that anything happened during the Third Task. I've never seen her so upset," he said.
"I was about to tell her about my detentions but then Filch stormed in, accusing me of sending contraband in the letter."
Harry glanced across the Great Hall, as if expecting Filch to walk up right then.
"Luckily, the letter was already gone."Hermione exhaled, relieved.
"But Luna really got onto Filch for being so accusatory. It was pretty unexpected." Hermione just stared at him.
"The point is that it seems that the post is being inspected now, whether it's sent out or received." Hermione nodded, remembering the conversation she'd had with Draco in the reading room.
It appeared that he was right.
"But who would want to search the owl post? That doesn't make any sense," Ron commented for the first time that morning.
"Perhaps it's someone who's trying to gain information on a certain student? Or a group?" she suggested.
They all went quiet, the ambience of the Great Hall continuing on around them.
Once again, Hermione found herself sitting in the stands overlooking the Quidditch Pitch.
She had nothing better to do than watch the Gryffindors practice, although she supposed it wasn't so bad.
She'd come alone this time—she hadn't been able to locate Luna in time, and Ginny was busy with an essay.
The practice had been going smoothly—Ron even seemed to have improved since the tryouts—until the Slytherin team appeared on the horizon.
She caught a glimpse of Draco's figure in the distance and tensed.
As the Slytherin team drew further, they began hurling taunts at the Gryffindor team, specifically at Harry and Ron.
The Slytherin students were waiting next to the stands now, impatient for the Gryffindor team's match to be over.
She couldn't see if Draco was involved in the mocking, but she supposed it didn't matter. She couldn't force him to tolerate her friends.
Suddenly, there was a scream; Hermione squinted at the sky in confusion.
Ron appeared to have lost control of his broom, resulting in the Quaffle that had been aimed at him to hit Katie Bell directly in the face.
She was about to fall off of her broom headfirst, but the twins caught her.
Some commotion ensued, and then frantic yelling as the twins sped off.
Blood appeared to be gushing freely from Katie's nose. What is going on?
Hermione squinted harder at the bizarre scene. She jumped about a foot in the air as Harry jogged up to her.
"Harry, what's going on? Is Katie okay?" He pushed his hair out of his face exasperatedly.
"She'll, uh, be fine. After the Blood Blisterpod wears off, that is. The twins really need to stop testing their products out on people."
He glanced at their retreating forms. She still had no idea what any of that meant, but she decided to take it as a positive sign.
The rest of the Gryffindor team had dismounted from their brooms.
Katie Bell was being escorted to the Hospital Wing by Angelina.
Unfazed, the Slytherin team launched into the air to begin their practice.
Hermione allowed her eyes to follow Draco's ascending form for a moment or two, until she turned back towards the castle with Harry and Ron.
She hoped Ron hadn't said anything to Harry about their conversation last night.
She knew she could trust him, but sometimes he forgot to think before he acted.
She'd caught him watching her, and hoped he hadn't seen her looking at Draco.
It would only make the rest of their conversation messier.
Eventually, Harry ran off to go take care of some errand he had with Professor McGonagall, leaving her and Ron alone in the library.
He seemed reluctant to be in her presence, and for once she didn't blame him.
She understood the animosity he had towards Draco; she'd disliked him for years as vehemently as Harry and Ron.
But now that Draco wanted to work together, to choose a side before it was too late, would that animosity still exist?
If so, would it cause their new friendship to crumble?
She hoped not, they'd barely begun as it was. She stared at the bookshelves, becoming lost in thought.
She hadn't even spoken to him all weekend.
The more she dwelled on it, the less she wanted it to happen.
Hermione felt an abrupt, intense urge to protect their new friendship. Ron cleared his throat, startling her.
The library was at normal occupancy due to the time of day, students milled about the shelves and the front desk.
She and Ron found a table tucked away into a corner; it seemed appropriate for the nature of their conversation.
"Before you begin to attempt to get me to even remotely believe you about Malfoy, I have to tell you something," he began, appearing annoyed.
"I saw Cedric during the patrol the other night, near the kitchens. I was surprised to see him, since I hadn't seen him in a few days—"
She forced herself to remain seated.
"You saw him? Multiple times? Why didn't you tell me?" Ron looked at her as if she hadn't comprehended what he had said.
"I figured you saw him all the time, since you two are dating. I tried to tell you last night but you cut me off," he shrugged.
She didn't know what to say. Were they dating?
It had felt like such a long time since she had held his hand, let alone seen his face or heard his voice.
"I don't know if we are. Nothing seems certain anymore," she mumbled.
When she lifted her eyes to Ron's face, it appeared that his anger had eased somewhat.
After a few beats of silence, he spoke.
"So, go ahead, attempt to convince me that Malfoy isn't a horrible person and that he actually wants to help."
Unfortunately, she had no idea how to begin. What could she possibly say?
'Oh, yeah, he was acting cold and indifferent towards me for months until he decided I was worth working with'? She sighed.
"Ron, I don't know what to tell you. I know that you and Harry hate his guts—"
Ron muttered, "that's an understatement."
"But," she continued, "he really is trying to figure out what Voldemort is going to do next, and he's telling me too."
When Ron didn't react, she assumed she should keep going. She took a steadying breath.
"If I didn't think he was being honest I wouldn't have told you; I wouldn't have even started working with him at all. I feel that he's really being sincere, even if he's not the friendliest person sometimes."
She thought about the conversations they had during their patrol.
Once the initial discussion about how he was treating her had ended, they were able to talk more freely with one another.
It had been a great feeling, knowing that he truly intended to be on their side in this.
She couldn't lie to herself, she was also glad Draco was putting in the effort to get to know her on top of that.
Ron leaned back in his chair, looking off into the distance.
"And I feel that we need to help him too. We're in the midst of a dark time, Ron. House rivalries and grudges—no matter how strong they may be—cannot overshadow that fact."
He begrudgingly turned towards her. "What about Harry?" Shifting in her seat, she replied,
"I haven't told him yet. I chose to tell you first because I thought you had grown more mature—"
"Thought? Past tense?" he interrupted, feigning hurt. She continued on, as if she hadn't heard him.
"I'm going to tell Harry...eventually. But for now it's just you and me. I just needed to know that I wasn't alone in this, and that I had someone else on my side, too." Ron scoffed.
"Fine Hermione, I'll go along with it. But I won't like it, and don't expect me to play nice with Malfoy, I still remember the slug incident."
Underneath his long hair, Ron's ears had turned red. She smiled, grasping his hand from across the table.
"Thank you so much, Ron, that means a lot to me." He nodded, squeezing her hand.
She glanced around the library, not seeing any sign of Harry's presence.
She leaned closer, which caused Ron to look up at her.
They stopped holding hands.
"I have an idea about how we can get some practical Defence Against the Dark Arts spells in, without involving Umbridge."
The change in topic intrigued him. He leaned forward too, as if they were discussing a secret.
"Oh? And what's that?"
"I think that Harry should start a group—just to teach some of the students in our year some basic defensive and offensive spells."
"Some of them are really struggling with Umbridge's horrid way of teaching, and if we do it discreetly.." she trailed off.
Ron moved some of his hair out of his eyes.
"I'm not sure how he'll react to that, you know how he is when everyone is focused on him. Do you think he'll actually agree to it?"
She began to reply, but practically fell out of her chair when a third voice spoke up.
"Will he actually agree to what?"
Their heads whipped around to see Harry standing near their table, his arms crossed.
She smoothed out her startled features. Guess I don't have any choice now, she thought.
"Oh hello, Harry, we were just discussing the idea of you forming a group to teach some students in our year practical defensive magic."
She smiled innocently while Ron looked back and forth between them.
Harry dragged a chair up to their table. "Absolutely not. I won't do it, and don't ask me again."
Hermione was taken aback. "What, why not? You yourself said that theoretical learning isn't sufficient enough—"
He slammed one of his hands against the table, the sound echoing faintly.
Some students looked over at their table curiously.
"No. You two don't know what it's like, as if I got out of that graveyard because I'm clever, or because I fought my way out valiantly."
He exhaled forcefully, seemingly trying to calm himself down.
"I'm not some heroic leader, or some sort of warrior. I'm sorry guys, but I won't do it." With that, he stood up and walked off.
Madam Pince sent their table a warning glare.
"Well, that worked out wonderfully, Hermione." She rolled her eyes at him.
"I guess I overestimated how it would go. We just have to convince him. He and Cedric are the only students who have experience fighting against dark magic and seeing it first hand."
"So what about Cedric then? He could lead the group, right?"
His words made her stop short. Cedric could be a good candidate.
She mulled the idea over in her head, but ultimately something about it didn't sit right with her.
"I'm not sure Ron, how would we even find him? I'm sure he has better things to do anyways," her insecurities were getting the best of her, but she couldn't help herself.
She still wasn't ready to face him.
"If that's how you feel, Hermione, we'll keep at it then." he shrugged.
Harry's angry expression flashed in her mind and she hoped he understood the intention behind her idea.
She began jotting down a few reasons why she thought he'd be a good leader.
Ron contributed some ideas to the list too, and before they knew it, it was lunch time.
The two friends departed for the Great Hall.
Author's Note:
Not much to say this week besides that I hope you guys are enjoying the story! Cedric would be interesting as the leader of Dumbledore's Army, but I guess we'll never know. See you guys next Monday, and as always thank you for any favorites, follows, and reviews, I really appreciate them!