Author's Notes:
Harry Potter and everything in his magical world belongs to JK Rowling, as my bank account will attest.
Chapter Nineteen
Heather and Ron were released from the Hospital Wing the next morning, returning to the bustle of school. Hermione was waiting for them after breakfast, and looked pleased to see both of them. Apparently, her opinion of Ron had improved since his poisoning, though that may have more to do with him muttering her name in his sleep on the day it had happened. As they made their way along the corridor, Luna Lovegood raced up to meet them. From a pocket she extracted a very grubby scroll and handed it to Heather. It was from Dumbledore, inviting her to a lesson this evening.
Realizing that it had been weeks since her only attempt to retrieve Slughorn's memory, Heather walked along the corridor to Dumbledore's office that evening full of trepidation. She could tell he was disappointed to learn that she hadn't succeeded, or apparently put much effort into the task.
"It is vital that you retrieve this memory, Harry. Without it, we may never uncover the secret of how to defeat Lord Voldemort."
"Yes, sir. I promise to do better."
"Excellent," Dumbledore said, and put the matter aside.
Tonight he had two memories. The first was from a house elf named Hokey, who had worked for a woman that Voldemort had visited after leaving Hogwarts while working at Borgin and Burkes. After landing in the overcrowded sitting room of Hepzibah Smith's home, Heather took in the woman sitting in a very large armchair. Her first impression was of an iced cake. Squirming internally at the sheer amount of rouge the woman layered onto her face, Heather wondered just what this woman could have to do with Voldemort. As it happened, she didn't, but two of her possessions did. Crooning over the young Tom Riddle, the foolish woman revealed to him her ownership of Helga Hufflepuff's cup, along with Slytherin's locket. Riddle's eyes gleamed scarlet at the sight of what, by rights, should have been his property dangled in front of him. As she watched, Heather knew that Hepzibah Smith had just signed her own death warrant, a fact that was confirmed by Dumbledore when they returned to his office.
The second memory was one of Dumbledore's own. Some ten years after the death of Hepzibah Smith and Voldemort's disappearance from the world at large, he returned to the country much changed. His features were blurry now, and his eyes had started to take on the slit like appearance Heather knew so well. He had come, or so he claimed, to request the chance to teach at Hogwarts. Both he and Dumbledore sparred verbally almost from the moment Voldemort entered the office. In the end, Riddle stormed away, disappointed in his apparent ambition to return to this school. Heather was standing by the door as the memory of Riddle sped by, and was it just her imagination or was there the tiniest gleam of satisfaction on Riddle's face? It was late when they returned to the present for the second time. Dumbledore sat Heather down to point out what he said were important points from the two memories, before sending her on her way.
Most of the next week planning how to ask Slughorn about the memory without spooking him again. With Ron returned to the team, Cormac was unceremoniously given the boot during the next practice. Heather had been affronted to see that he dared even show up in the changing room, as if he would ever play for Gryffindor after his performance during their last match. He even had the nerve to try and argue that what had happened hadn't been his fault, and claimed unjust persecution by the rest of the team. After he had been sent packing, Heather sat the team down and gave them a pep talk. There was still a chance, she said, that if they could flatten Ravenclaw in their next match that they could still win the cup, and her coaching mania outdid that of even Oliver Wood.
Ron and Lavender weren't speaking much since he'd been poisoned. Every time she had gone to visit him in the hospital, he had feigned being asleep to avoid talking to her. Heather hoped she had swallowed his being out of his mind as the reason for calling her Heather, but found that Lavender had started to surreptitiously watch her. Out of the corner of her eye she caught her looking at her, and it made the little hairs on the back of her neck prickle.
That Thursday was her first shift in the Hospital Wing. During their free period after Charms, rather than tackling her pile of homework, Heather reported to Madam Pomfrey. Before being released on Monday, the matron had administered her latest dose of potion and given her a thorough check up. Almost grudgingly she revealed that Hermione had brewed the potion perfectly, though still admonished Heather for not coming to her in the first place. After her check up was complete, Madam Pomfrey declared her in perfect health, with the exception of a recently mended skull.
"Ah, Potter." Madam Pomfrey said looking up from her work. "Good, welcome to the Hospital Wing. Please retrieve an apron from the cupboard and come back."
Heather pulled off her robes and donned the white apron over her sweater and pants, tying it around her back. It certainly felt rather feminine, and she wondered if that was why Madam Pomfrey insisted on her wearing it.
"Now, how much do you know about remedies and healing magic?" the matron asked, getting up from her desk.
"Not much." Heather answered. That was one of the subjects that had been lacking in her magical education.
"Well, it's time for that to change. Ahh, here's our first patient."
Turning, Heather saw the door to the ward open and a small Hufflepuff walked in, clutching her arm. Her robes were singed along the entire sleeve, and an odor of smoke emanated from her. Madam Pomfrey met the young girl halfway up the ward and reached out to examine the arm.
"Yes, dear? How did this happen?"
"I accidentally caught my sleeve in the fire under my cauldron in potions" she gasped in pain as Madam Pomfrey gently examined the burned skin.
"Well, we'll have you fixed up in a jiffy. Potter, go to the cupboard and bring back the burn paste. It's on the top shelf."
When she returned with the bottle of orange paste, Madam Pomfrey daubed it onto the girl's arm before wrapping it in bandages with a wave of her wand. After sending her back to class with instructions to come by after dinner, the matron set to work instructing Heather on treatments for the standard injuries that Hogwarts students brought her. Heather had never thought much about the art of healing before, usually because she was too busy getting injured herself. Most of it seemed rather straight forward, though she knew her knowledge of potions was certainly lacking for a future in medicine.
That evening she was sitting up late with Ron and Hermione doing the homework she hadn't had a chance to complete. It was a decidedly nasty essay for Snape on the proper way to combat dementors. Heather knew Snape would give her poor marks, as she disagreed with his views on the subject. With a loud crack, Dobby and Kreacher appeared on the rug in front of them. Completely forgetting that she had asked the two elves to trail Malfoy, she brushed past Hermione's indignant attitude and listened to what they had to say.
The first to speak was Kreacher, who declared in his oiliest voice that "Young Master Malfoy" was the epitome of the perfect pureblood, who walked with the nobility of his great name. Disgusted, Heather shushed him, preferring to listen to Dobby. Apparently, Malfoy was seen with a variety of other students, who all seem to take turns keeping watch while he enters the Room of Requirement for hours at a time. Realization dawning on her, Heather thanked the two elves and sent them off to rest, she had neglected to include something as mundane as sleep in her instructions to them.
"That explains why we haven't been able to get into your haven this year" said Hermione, who seemed to have gotten past Heather's use of house elves like that.
"But what do you think they mean about a variety of students?" asked Ron
Heather thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. "It was right there during out first potions lesson. It isn't a large group, there'd be no way to keep it a secret if it were. He's been having Crabbe and Goyle take Polyjuice Potion. That must have been who that little girl was, the one we startled that time we tried to get in, Hermione."
Ron let out a loud guffaw, "He's been having Crabbe and Goyle turning into girls?"
"Something tells me that they don't appreciate quite as much as I am." Muttered Heather, mulling over everything she had just been told. "I'm going to try and get in there, tomorrow."
"I don't think you're going to be able to" said Hermione, deep in thought.
Climbing into her four-poster bed that night, Heather started mentally listing off the requests she could make of the door. She had to be able to get in. After all, Malfoy had been able to enter their headquarters last year. Caught up in the excitement that tomorrow she would finally find out what Malfoy was up to, she drifted off to sleep.
As Hermione had predicted, gaining access to the Room of Requirement to discover what Malfoy was doing was impossible. As March sped by, Heather made several attempts, during free periods and on weekends, pacing back and forth in front of the invisible door trying every variation of "I need to see what Draco Malfoy is doing" she could think of. Not forgetting about her promise to Dumbledore to reprioritize getting the horcrux memory from Slughorn, she took to rereading her potions book in the hopes that the Prince had put something that might be useful in one of the margins. One a page roughly halfway through the book, heather saw the words Sectumsempra – For Enemies scrawled above a list of antidotes. She had tried several of the spells written in this book before, having once hauled Ron out of bed by his ankle earlier in the year. Making a mental note, she folded the page down for later.
March gave way to April, and evidence of summer started to appear on the grounds. Afternoons were spent enjoying the warmth and sunshine out on the grounds, with the majority of the students preferring this to the stuffy library. Ron and Lavender were still dating, though any flame between them had died long ago. Ron seemed unwilling, or scared thought Heather, to break it off with her, preferring to hide anytime a girl came into view.
Heather was coming to enjoy her shifts working for Madam Pomfrey. The Matron was a kind woman, even if she could rival Professor McGonagall in terms of strictness. When no one was around, she preferred to use Heather's actual name and called her "Young lady" which always gave Heather a thrill of pleasure. According to Madam Pomfrey, Heather's transition into a girl was going splendidly with no complications she could detect. Her breasts had reached a size where she had to wear a tight sports bra over them so they wouldn't be seen under her sweater, and the rest of her body was decidedly feminine now. This made her step up her already accepted steps to change privately. Her roommates had long since stopped noticing her going into the bathroom to change while they stripped in front of each other. She also started to show up to quidditch practices already in her scarlet robes instead of changing with the rest of the team in the tent.
It was during these practices that she started to be able to feel a noticeable difference in her body. As it accustomed itself to its new shape, the redistribution of her weight made her have to adapt how she handled herself on a broomstick. Several times she misjudged a turn or loop, to the hilarity of her teammates. Often during practices she caught Ginny watching her, missing catches and once even plowing into Jimmy Peakes because she wasn't paying attention. As she was returning to Gryffindor Tower one evening after a shift in the Hospital Wing, she saw Ginny walking towards her looking as though she were steeling herself for something.
Without warning, Ginny changed course and grabbed Heather by the sleeve.
"Wha-" exclaimed heather, tripping over her feet as Ginny dragged her down the corridor.
"Just come with me." Was the only response she got.
Passing an empty classroom, Ginny pulled her into a broom cupboard, slamming the door behind them. Tears were streaming down her face and Heather was almost at a loss for what to do. Ginny paced back and forth in the small space as best as she could, not saying anything. Finally, she stopped and faced Heather, a mixture of pain and defiance on her face.
"What's wrong?" asked Heather.
"Dean and I how another fight." Ginny replied
"Oh no, what about?"
"It doesn't matter, not really."
"Then why are you so upset?" Heather said, because Ginny was clearly very bothered about something.
"Merlin's beard, you really are clueless, aren't you?" Ginny said, an exasperated smile breaking through her tears.
"What?"
"I like you. I mean, like I used too." Ginny admitted
Heather's mouth went dry. She knew full well that Ginny had once held a very strong crush on her, but thought that had passed after finding out the truth about her almost three years ago.
"Ginny…" she started.
"I know, I know!" she almost shouted, her voice echoing in the small space, "You don't like girls. I don't even know if I like girls like that. But I know that whatever I used to feel for you, I haven't completely gotten over it."
Heather waited, expecting that Ginny had more to say. "Seeing you with Justin earlier this year, it made me realize that I wanted to be with you. He made you so happy, everyone could see it, even if they didn't know you two were together. More and more I found myself wanting to be the one who made you that happy. And when he dumped you, I almost murdered him for hurting you."
"But…you were dating Dean" interjected Heather when Ginny paused for breath.
"I know, and that confused me even more! I've been happy with Dean, more or less. I know we probably won't end up together or anything, but all the times I've been happy with him, part of me has still wanted to be with you. I've felt so guilty, almost like I was leading Dean along, but…I couldn't go on anymore without you knowing how I felt."
Without warning, she launched herself forwards, wrapping her arms around Heather's neck and crushing their lips together. Without realizing she was doing it, Heather put her hands on Ginny's waist and kissed her back. There was passion in Ginny's touch, as though she were trying to communicate how much she liked Heather in a single act. The kiss lasted less than ten seconds, and Heather pulled away first.
"Ginny, I'm so sorry." She gasped, having run out of breath.
"But, you kissed me back!" Ginny shouted hysterically.
"It's just that I don't think of you like that."
"I-I know you don't." Ginny said dejectedly, leaning back against the stone wall she slid down to rest on the floor. "I mean I've always know you didn't like me like that, even before you became Heather. I'm just hopelessly stupid, I guess."
"Ginny. I'm sorry." Heather repeated, "I didn't know this is how you felt. If I had I never would have asked for your help with flirting and all of that."
"No!" cried Ginny springing to her feet again, "I loved helping you so much. Helping you be Heather has been one of the best parts of my life. Even though it's hurt sometimes I still wouldn't trade it for anything."
"I just don't…." Heather trailed off
"You don't like me like that." Ginny finished for her, resignedly.
"No."
Ginny didn't answer, but Heather was relieved to see that her friend had stopped crying. She stood a moment later and looked into Heathers eyes. Even though her face was still red with tears, it looked as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
"What do we do now?" Heather asked.
"We stay friends, of course."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely." Ginny said, reaching out to hug Heather. After the briefest hesitation that she hoped Ginny didn't notice, Heather embraced her.
"What are you going to about Dean?"
"I'm going to end it with him. It's not fair to keep stringing him along when I don't know what I want."
"I think that's the best thing to do." Heather replied.
Ginny released her and pulled open the door, leaving without a glance backwards. Her knees finally giving way to her nerves, it was Heather's turn to slide down the wall into a sitting position. For a while she sat there, trying to make sense of what had just happened. It did, she thought, answer quite a few questions.