What Witches Want

by Katherina Black

This is a review I got:(corneliusfudge, Signed Review )"I thought that this would be pure and utter crap, owing to the title. It is, however, the best piece of fan fiction I have read for years. Seriously." (I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey s

4. four

A/N - major stressing! I discovered that on a few chapters, the thoughts are refusing to come up in orange. Therefore, I've underlined the thoughts in this chapter. Sorry for inconvenience!

What Witches Want - Part 04 - by Katherina Black

"Ron..? Ron, what in Merlin's name are you doing?"

Harry watched as his best friend threw himself around the dormitory, violently bouncing off his bed and the walls as he acted and looked like a human rocket with his red hair and face. Finally, Ron fell onto his bed.

"Too many Every Flavour Beans?" Ron suggested dryly. Harry noted that at least five packets of Every Flavour Beans had been torn open and the beans tipped out all over the dormitory.

"Where have you been? I haven't seen you all morning," Harry said, sitting down carefully on his own bed and tentatively nibbling on a nearby bean.

"In here," Ron said shortly.

"Oh, what, bouncing off walls?" Harry said, looking at Ron who had his worst expression on his face, obviously in a rotten mood.

"I just couldn't take it any more. I can't even go and have breakfast, for heavens sake, without having to listen to all this...stuff!" Ron waved his long arms around to illustrate. "At least in here I can go mad in peace..." he added, muttering.

"And that explains why you've just been decorating the floors with Every Flavour beans," Harry said quietly, a sarcastic edge to his tone.

"I mean it, Harry. I'm going mad here. I've got to reverse this, whatever it is," Ron said, glaring at the scattered beans. "I thought, if one bean started it off, why couldn't one bean finish it," he said in a defeated manner.

"But you know that's not how it works. Ron. Dumbledore said you have to prove that you don't need this spell, or you have to wait it out."

"You sound like Hermione," Ron muttered, then for the first time, grinned. Then he sighed again. "Seriously, though, Hermione's the worst thing. I hate listening to her thoughts, and she'd kill me if she knew. It was so much easier when I forgot she was a girl."

"I suppose there's no chance in getting Hermione to help in all of this?" Harry reasoned. Ron looked like Harry had just proposed to curse him.

"What, before or after my funeral, d'you mean?" he said sacastically.

"You don't have to tell her everything," Harry said patiently. "Just tell you need help with...extra school research," he suggested. "She knows half the books in the library, if not all of them, off by heart. Then you could at least find out what all this is about..."

Ron was silent for a while, absent mindedly eating an Every Flavour bean as he thought. "She won't buy it. I'm beginning to think Hermione's got a mind reading power herself. Either that or she knows me, really, really well. No, you know what, Harry? Maybe I'll just tell her, full-stop. No more lies."

Harry shrugged, it's was his friend's descision, but it occured to him that Ron had never had a problem with lying to Hermione before.

Just then, Seamus, Dean and Neville came into the dormitory.

"What the..." the three of them stared at the beans scattered everywhere.

"Help yourselves to some Every Flavour Beans, won't you?" Ron said, ignoring their gapes as he slipped past them and out of the door.

"Ron...what are you doing here?" Ron looked up from the stack of books to see Hermione, looking slightly surprised, and slightly suspicious, standing before him. Her gaze flickered to the title of the heavy volume he'd been reading.

"And what on earth is he doing reading 'Every Single Charm Ever Recorded in the History of Magic'?"

"I thought you made it a point never to do your homework, Ron," she added, settling down opposite him.

Ron shrugged, looking at the incredibly thick book ruefully, and a bit embarrassed. How was he going to explain himself out of this one? It was all very well to tell Harry he would tell Hermione everything, but now faced with the prospect of a perceptive, suspicious-looking Hermione, he was beginning to have doubts again.

Ron had actually been spending the afternoon in the library, looking through stacks of books, hoping to find a clue, any clue, as to what might have made him start to hear thoughts. And what might end it. Even now, he was only an eighth of the way through 'Every Single Charm Ever Recorded in the History of Magic'.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione's eyes flicker towards him briefly.

"Well, if he doesn't want to tell me what's going on, I'm not going to force him. I've had it with running around after Ron and Harry like I'm their mother, for heaven's sake. It's stupid. Maybe Ron really is just doing his homework. Now. Concentrate. "List the three ways to brew up an Eloquence potion." - That's easy..."

Hermione got out her quill and a piece of parchment. Ron couldn't resist. He shut "Every Single Spell Ever Recorded in the History of Magic" and followed suit. He knew that Potions homework was due in next week and he doubted very much that it would be good enough for Snape if he attempted it without Hermione's help. Even if she herself didn't happen to know she was helping him.

For the first time that day, the shadow of a grin flickered on Ron's mouth. Maybe this power could be useful after all. For the next few minutes he listened attentively to Hermione's thoughts, and noted it all down, re-wording slightly so as not to arouse suspicion.

"...add the root of Zeffleweed to the potion and simmer gently until the potion thins and becomes a pale violet colour. The potion should only be taken in small doses as it is particularly strong when brewed using this method. This way of making an Eloquence potion is the least commonly used as it sometimes has odd side effects, including lengthening nails and tongue slightly. The root of Zeffleweed is also extremely hard to find..."

Finally, Hermione finished her essay and threw aside her quill. A few minutes later, so did Ron, fervently hoping Hermione would never discover he had done this, as copying homework was unforgivable in her eyes.

It was as Ron was writing his name at the top of his parchment that he noticed something which made him stiffen. Tucked neatly between the back pages of Hermione's Potions book, poking out just enough to reveal the postal stamp, was an envelope. The postal stamp clearly read "Bulgaria."

Hermione, who was double checking her work, picked up the book, and as she did so, the envelope fell onto the table.

"Oh, so that's where Viktor's letter was..." Ron heard the unwelcome confirmation, straight from her head. He was suddenly torn between pretending he hadn't noticed a thing to confronting her and demanding the contents of the letter. Hermione unconcernedly picked up the envelope and tucked it back into her book.

"Who's that from; Krum?" Ron blurted out. Hermione slowly looked up at him from over her book.

"Oh no." "Yes, actually."

"Anything interesting? Weather nice in Bulgaria, is it?" Ron eyed Hermione carefully as he tried, and utterly failed, to sound casual.

"Apparently." "Please not this again. I really don't need this at the moment. Don't rise to it, Hermione. Keep. Calm."

Ron searched for some words to say next. "Didn't know you were writing to each other," he came up with lamely, and hated himself immediately. He couldn't believe that a stupid letter from Krum, was actually making him do something that he knew Hermione didn't want.

"Well we are," Hermione said, her eyes back to her book but her mind elsewhere.

"Here it comes, the same old story. You would have thought, after all this time, he would have at least changed his tactics..."

Her thoughts sounded tired and weary, though her speech was as controlled and calm as ever. "Is that a problem?"

Ron dropped his head, eyes looking at the essay he'd just completed. He suddenly felt as weary as Hermione, and all desire to know what Krum had said to Hermione, evaporated. He also felt very guilty.

"Of course not. You know that Harry - and I...we'll support you whatever you do."

Hermione dropped her Potions book with a loud "clunk" to the floor. Her thoughts stopped. She sat absolutely still and stared at Ron, whose head was still bent over his work.

"But - but -" she finally managed weakly. "Ron - ?! He - Krum - he - oh my god. It's like - it's like some kind of strange parallel universe or something..."

This continued in a similar vein for a few seconds, then Ron, just to escape the situation, pretended he had to go and find some books, and disappeared between the rows of tall bookshelves.

*

As Ron, having achieved next to nothing except from a wonderful Potions essay, walked back to the common room with Hermione, he realised something that made him groan. All the tables in the Great Hall had been magicked away for a reason. The Ballroom Dancing Display. Tonight.

Oh, Ron had to admit that it probably wasn't going to be as bad as it could have been. It was dress robes for boys, no tailcoats and top hats involved. And he was actually quite good at ballroom dancing, once he'd practiced a couple of times with Eloise. And it was doing something nice for somebody else. But still, it was Ballroom Dancing...

"It was nice of you to do that for Eloise, though," Hermione reminded him as she saw the grimace of Ron's face as he took in the empty hall. "She does appreciate it. She told me."

Ron nodded, and continued walking. Then he stopped, a thought having occured to him. "Hermione - do you think - that is, Eloise doesn't like me, does she?" he asked Hermione.

"No, actually she -" Hermione stopped. "She thinks you like me." "I mean, no, she doesn't. Not that way. She just thinks you're nice." "It's Harry she's head over heels for..."

Ron said nothing. Eloise thought he liked Hermione? He shook his head, and dismissed it. He'd obviously been hearing wrong.

"So, are you looking forward to tonight?" he asked Hermione.

"Yes. I mean, it'll be fun, won't it? We've never done anything like this before. And, you know, my mum and dad used to do ballroom dancing when they were young."

"And now they're dentists?" Ron said.

*

Ron grimaced at his reflectiong before he headed down to the common room, where he'd arranged to meet Hermione - he'd meet Eloise directly in the Great Hall, where it was all taking place.

He spotted Hermione waiting for him, taking advantage of the time to do yet more reading in an armchair by the fire.

"Hi," Hermione said, when he went up to her.

"Hi," Ron returned. "Er - you look nice."

She looked similar to the way she'd looked at the Yule Ball, actually. Her hair looked somewhat more...tamed than usual, and those were the same Dress Robes. But Ron didn't want to think about the night of the Yule Ball, which for him were connected with some unpleasant memories.

"Thanks," Hermione said. "Let's go."

"PEEVES!!" Professor McGonagall was yelling up at the mischeivous ghost, beside herself with anger as he swooped up and down the hall, pleased with himself. Peeves had at least a hundred water balloons magically floating, suspended high in the air near the ceiling of the great hall, ready to be dropped. "I said, get down here right now!"

"What did you say? Drop them down there? Whatever you say, Professor," Peeves cackled as he let one of the full balloons drop. In a blink, Professor McGonagall whipped out her wand, shouting "Petrificus!" and the ball stopped, frozen a few inches from the ground.

"Whooooops!" Peeves shouted as yet another and another balloon dropped. Professor McGonagall was not quick enough to stop all of them, and before long, the floor was covered in the greeny slime that had filled the balloons.

"Bubotuber pus!" Hermione hissed to Ron. The two of them were among the crowd of some of the early ballroom dancers, all watching the scene before them with either nervousness or amusement.

"Everybody stand back!" Professor McGonagall snapped. "The Bloody Baron will not be pleased about this, Peeves!!"

"Neither will Filch," Ron chuckled in a low voice to Hermione. As if on cue, Argus Filch rounded the corner, his face looking like it was about to burst like one of Peeves' balloons.

"I'm afraid that the display will have to be cancelled tonight. You are free to spend the evening as you wish, of course, but don't come near the hall until it's cleaned up," Professor McGonagall said wearily. "And that includes you, George Weasley. You don't mess with undiluted bubotuber pus, joke or not." The crowd dispersed, most of the boys looking extremely relieved, including Ron.

"Come on, Herms," he said to Hermione, who was still stationary. "Are you okay?" he added, as he saw the distracted look on Hemrione's face (he'd been far to interested in what Peeves had been up to to notice what Hermione had been thinking)

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine," Hermione allowed Ron to lead her away as Professor McGonagall broke the news to some of the dancers who had just arrived. "It's just, you know, my mum and dad used to enter ballroom dancing competitions when they were young and I was kind of looking forward to tonight, because I've always wanted to try it, ever since I was really little and I saw all the photographs of them." "That'll do.Can't tell Ron that I used to lie awake imagining I was the girl in the picture, he won't understand and he's probably already thinking about Quidditch anyway. Oh well, I'll just have to fulfill that dream another time, I suppose. Just silly, really."

Ron listened, then shut his eyes and screwed up his face, because he'd known immediately what it was he should do, and the idea didn't appeal to him. But he already knew that he should do it, and that he was going to do it. He had to do it.

"Ron? Where are we going?" Hermione jerked out of her reverie as she realised that Ron was leading her away from the direction of the common room. "Ron, why are we going outside?"

Ron didn't answer her. The night air was warm and buzzing with the sound of the Faeries' dusk singing. The Faeries, harmless little flying people, glowed in the dark, making it look like the rose bushes were strewn with little lights.

"For the last time, Ron, why are we outside?" Hermione said. "And in my favourite part of the grounds come to that...not that Ron knows that. Strange co incidence, though."

Ron grinned. "Well, this isn't the Great Hall, but it's not bad is it?"

"Ron...what are you talking about?"

"I just want you to fulfill your dream, that's all."

"How did you know...?" Hermione said, in disbelief. "And why..?"

He grinned at her as he flicked his wand and performed a musical charm he'd found in "Every Single Charm Ever Recorded in the History of Magic" on the almost invisible night faeries. At once, they began to croon more musically.

"Hermione - just dance with me, okay?" Ron said, thinking that it wouldn't do to go into detail at this moment.

"Okay," Hermione said quietly, still looking slightly shocked. She placed her hand into Ron's outstretched one, and they began to dance in comfortable silence. Ron, for his part, was concentrating on the steps too much to have been able to listen to what she was thinking anyway. But the part of his mind that wasn't going "1 - 2 - 3, 1 - 2 - 3," managed to reflect that he was actually feeling contented - now, of all times: here, outside at night, dancing, with Hermione. She could do that, though, Ron thought. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't felt comfortable around Hermione; he even loved her when they were in the heat of a raging argument.

Wait - what had his brain just said? 'He even loved her when...' No, it'd made a mistake. He'd meant to think, "like" of course, it had just...somehow come up with...something else.

Ron realised that they'd stopped, and as he pushed away his own confusing thoughts, Hermione's flooded in.

"I know what's going to happen. In a few seconds I'll open my big mouth and we'll end up fighting. Don't do it, Hermione. Don't ruin this moment. Please?"

"Are you warm enough?" Ron questioned, to fill the verbal silence.

Hermione ignored the question. She looked up at him. "Ron, I want you to be honest with me."

"Okay."

"No, Ron, I mean it. Tell me the truth now. Don't give me that innocent look, either. We've saved each other's lives how many times, now? Do you know how much it hurts to be lied to by the one person who's supposed to have been through everything with you?" Hermione choked slightly on the last sentence, then swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to regain her trademark composure. She'd obviously said more than she'd planned to.

"What do you mean "lied to you?" I haven't been lying to you!" Ron said, slightly heatedly staring at Hermione, looking smaller and frightened almost, yet determined, before him.

"He's such a terrible liar."

Ron shut his eyes. He inhaled. He waited. "Yes, I have." he muttered, almost under his breath, it was so quiet.

"You...you have..?" "Hang on. This isn't right. Ron just admitted he was wrong. Ron doesn't do that. Ron doesn't do that."

"Yes, well, I'm doing it now, okay?" Ron said loudly, letting go. He'd finally had enough with dealing with this on his own. "Yes, that's right, Hermione! You are absolutely right, as always: I have been keeping something from you."

Hermione said nothing, but she'd turned on that Searching look of hers on him. Ron hated that look. He always felt as though his mind was being read when she gave him that look (ironically enough).

Wondering how long it would take before a familiar screaming match ensued, Ron took a deep breath.

"You won't like this," he said.

*