Chapter Six
The next morning was not any better than the night before, rested as Hermione might have been after a night of sleep. When she sat down next to Ron at breakfast, hoping to make peace, he simply got up and walked in the opposite direction. They were increasingly sour to each other all day, to the point where she was actually glad to see him turn up toward the Divination tower in the last period of the day. At least she wouldn't have to feel his eyes on the back of her head all through class.
Hermione usually scorned Divination, thinking inaccurate and a waste of time. Arithmancy, though a form of divination, was much more logical. The equation she was working on that day was the first one she would ever use for divinatory purpose, instead of just practice. She could feel the power in the numbers even as she wrote them down and worked them out.
What is bothering Ron? She asked the numbers. Professor Vector had told them to ask a simple question, and she supposed that was simple enough. But the number sentences she wrote out were long and complicated. Six. A number of treachery. Five. Confusion. Seven and three together. Love and worry, rolled into one. Ten. Happiness. Four. Anger. The numbers contradicted themselves.
Professor Vector leaned over Hermione's shoulder and scanned her completed sheet. "What question did you ask?" she inquired.
"Ron's being a jerk," Hermione replied quietly. "I asked what was bothering him."
The professor ran her finger over the sheet, frowning. "He's got something very good in his life, and he's worried about what might happen to it. He's willing to take risks to protect it. A background of suspicion. He doesn't know what's causing all of this, but it looks like he's linked to it." She picked up the sheet. You did all your equations correctly. Full marks." Professor Vector smiled quietly at her student. "Next time ask a simpler question."
Coming out of class, Hermione overheard two Ravenclaw girls talking. "Did you hear?" "Yeah, they did the test this afternoon." Curious, she walked up to them. "What's going on?"
"The Weasley boy," one of the girls informed her. "He lied to Professor Snape about his homework today. Snape lost his temper and put a truth spell on him after class. But he could still lie."
Hermione blinked. She hadn't thought that to be possible. "Really? How?"
The other girl shrugged. "They don't know. They just know he can lie like a rug."
She stared. "But- that's impossible! Snape can't have used a very powerful charm."
The first Ravenclaw shook her head. "He didn't. But in the test, they used the most powerful one they could think of. And he broke it." The two girls turned and walked away.
Hermione walked slowly down the stairs, thinking hard. She had never heard of anything like this, in all her studies.
When she reached the common room, the first thing she saw was Ron, surrounded by a multitude of people- mostly girls. She stood beside the portrait hole for a moment, and just watched him. His stance reminded her of when she had met up with him at the Leaky Cauldron; intimidated.
Ron turned, seeing her for the first time. The pleading look he shot her almost made her melt on the spot. Her mind flashed back to the Arithmancy lesson. Worry. Suspicion. The urge to go over and rescue him was almost overwhelming. She shook her head violently, and walked up the tall staircase to the girls' dorm. Something- an emotion she had never experienced- was keeping her from helping Ron. And from forgiving him. Something deep inside her wouldn't allow her to be compassionate, and she thought she knew what it was; bitterness. She couldn't forgive him for what he had said the night before.
Hermione's mind suddenly flashed back to that fateful afternoon in a Hogsmeade alley. She remembered how he had kissed her.
Nothing in the world could have prepared Hermione for that. She didn't hear or say anything, but was fiercely aware of any place she and Ron touched, from his hand, still on her face, to his hand on her back to her own arms braced against his chest, so she could feel his heart beating against her hand. He was holding her like she was made of a fairy's wing, barely touching her, as if she would tear if he was at all forceful with her. Without knowing what she was doing, she slipped her arms up around his neck and tremblingly returned his gentle kiss. She felt a tiny loose lock of his red hair between her fingers, and vaguely noticed that a few people had stuck their heads into the alley, drawn by the commotion, only to stop and quiet themselves, and take in the scene before them. She thought she could feel a tiny sensation of emotion emanating from Ron, in a way she couldn't quite place. He loves you, a voice in her head told her. And you love him, too, admit it!
But, if I love him, why can't I forgive him? Hermione's mind cried. And that was nearly two years ago! So much has changed since then!
Her mother's words ran in her ears, reminding her of an old conversation, during the long afternoons of the past year. "If it makes you mad, it's not love" she had told her. "Love, real love will make you happy enough to forgive anyone of anything." Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted so much to love Ron. Why couldn't she?
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