*Chapter Four*
It was amazing to the four, former Gryffindor's just how quickly two weeks could go by. Harry, Hermione and Ron spent that time interviewing and re-interviewing every member of the staff in the castle. The professors were starting to get a little testy with all the questioning, but answered again and again. None of the three could say that they'd taken well to Mr. Blodgett. He had a lazy eye that rolled crazily in his head, and a nervous condition that made that eye twitch. His voice was nasal and grating. Of course, it could have just been that they were determined not to like Hagrid's replacement. But the man unsettled them.
Ron had gone so far as to question the house elves. But, to know avail. Whoever had done the damage was good. They left no trace behind, no clues of any kind. It seemed impossible, that a place full of some of the most powerful wizards in the world, would have so much trouble catching one person. A STUDENT no less.
Something else seemed to be at work here, and the trio was determined to find out what.
Ginny spent her time in the library. She was the assistant librarian to Madame Pince. However, she seemed to be taking care of more and more of the duties of Head Librarian. Madame Pince was starting to talk about retiring and entrusting Ginny with more responsibility. Hermione was the one to question them, much to Ginny's disappointment. For some odd reason, she had wanted Harry to do it. She was in no way ready to confront him, but, it could have been an excuse for her to look at him without having to explain herself.
But, no. He had gone back into hiding after the incident in Dumbledore's office. In fact, she hadn't seen much of her brother, either. It seemed, that Ron and Harry were avoiding the women. They were never in the Great Hall when Hermione and Ginny took their meals, nor had they been seen just wandering the castle. She knew that Hermione had seen Harry, and tried desperately not to bombard her with questions. But, as far as she could tell, it was only to discuss what they had found out about the disturbances in the school. The men were keeping themselves distant, and it was making her crazy.
So, when she had made the decision to talk to Harry, whether he wanted to or not, she also decided to tell Ron that as well. She knew what had happened in the hallway after the meeting. The portraits in the hall couldn't stop talking about it. Therefore, she felt the need to confront Ron first, and make him understand that he couldn't run her life. She didn't think it would go over well.
Hermione wasn't having much better luck when it came to the male part of their foursome. Yes, she saw Harry, but it was usually for no more then a few minutes at a time, and only to compare notes. He never stayed longer and they never discussed anything other than what they had found out, which was a whole lot of nothing. Even though they had shared a warm 'hello' when she first arrived at Hogwarts, it didn't seem to extend to their daily dealings with each other. It only further convinced Hermione that this wasn't such a good idea.
She never saw Ron. She had no clue what he was up to, or where he went in the castle. Several times, she found herself outside of his room, staring at the door like it would open to some great treasure. But, she never got the nerve to knock. She had a feeling he wasn't there much anyway. She doubted that Harry had seen him either, although, she didn't ask. It was almost like they were three investigators trying to solve the same mystery, but not meeting in the middle to help each other.
She called herself every kind of coward for letting Ron avoid her. She knew, she could corner him if she wanted, but she just couldn't seem to do it. Ron's very absence told her that he didn't want to talk to her, and that was enough to deter her, no matter how much it hurt.
Ron was doing a superb job of NOT dealing with the two people he had called best friend. He didn't feel the need, like Hermione did, to try to bridge the gap between them. Life was better alone, he'd decided. No one could hurt you that way. He was there to do a job, not socialize and that's the way he chose to keep it. It didn't matter that he would wake up in the middle of the night, hard and frustrated with images of Hermione swirling in his brain. The dreams would be so real, he almost felt as if he could reach out and touch her. That's why the bottle, which was full and sealed when he arrived, was now half full. He was proud of himself for not drinking himself sick, but hated the fact that he had to open it at all.
A part of him-a part he ignored-urged him to talk to Harry as well. But, his anger was still so large, so hot that he didn't trust himself. Not that he would have felt guilty for pounding on Harry for a bit. But, he didn't want to upset Dumbledore, or give Snape (who was not making things easy) any more ammunition as to WHY they were not the right people for the job.
So, the four had carried on day to day, until it suddenly occurred to them, that it was September 1st. The day before the first day of term. They would all be expected to attend the feast and Sorting of the first years. They would be forced to face each other, whether they liked it or not.
Harry leaned casually against the door frame of the Muggle Studies classroom, watching Hermione as she bent over some parchment on her desk, quill scratching noisily as she wrote. Several books were laid open in front of her, reminding him of a time not so long ago. A smile formed on his lips as he watched, thinking that some things would never change. When he quietly cleared his throat to alert her to his presence, the quill stopped and she looked up, an annoyed scowl on her face from being interrupted. This familiar reaction made him smile turn into a grin.
"Oh, Harry. Hello." She said, her scowl turning into a smile of her own. She twirled the quill nervously in her fingers while he approached. He felt a stab of guilt at her not knowing how to act around him. He suddenly felt very sorry for the way he'd been avoiding her these last couple of weeks.
"What are you doing?" He asked, settling his hip against the edge of the desk and peering down at her work.
"Lesson plans. Term starts tomorrow, and I need to be prepared." She explained.
"Hermione. You've got the entire course planned out through Easter." He said, amusement evident in his voice as he leafed through the papers on her desk. She bristled a bit and her face took on a superior edge that he knew so well.
"Unlike SOME people, I don't wait until the last minute to do things." She said with a sniff. She snatched the parchments out of his hand and moved them to the opposite side of the desk. That annoyed look was back and Harry could have kicked himself for putting it there.
"I wasn't criticizing, Hermione. Just thought it was funny that some things never change." Her face softened a bit at that, but didn't totally lose her annoyance.
"Well, all right." She mumbled, not able to come up with anything else. "Did you need something?" She saw the flash of sadness in his eyes but refused to be moved by it. He had set the boundaries and now he would have to deal with it.
"Yeah." He ran a hand over his hair, dislodging the ponytail and sending hair flowing into his face. He scowled when he heard Hermione giggle. "What's so funny?" He snapped as he tried to correct the damage.
"Nothing. I was just thinking that Ginny was right. You DO look like one of those men on Muggle romance novels." Despite himself, Harry felt a tinge of pleasure heat his face.
"She said that?" Hermione didn't even bother rolling her eyes.
"Don't, Harry." Was all she said, effectively dispelling the happiness that he had been feeling. The happiness he had no right to feel where Ginny was concerned. Hermione felt wretched for being the one to do it, but reality being what it was, she felt he needed a reminder.
"Right. Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I want to meet tomorrow night, after the first day of class is over. All three of us. So we can compare notes on the students and give our impressions of them. Maybe we can pick out a few to keep our eyes on. This working separately isn't going to work with so many students roaming the halls after tonight."
"All right. Did you tell Ron?" She had picked up her quill and bent her head over the parchment to scribble a note as he talked. The silence that followed her question gave her her answer. She looked back up at him to see his sheepish grin and nearly groaned out loud. "You want me to tell him." It wasn't a question.
"Well, I think it would be best, don't you? After our last conversation, I don't think that we'd be able to talk without bloodshed." He hurried to explain. It wasn't that he was afraid of Ron. Far from it. He just thought it best for them to communicate through Hermione as much as possible. For now.
Hermione had thrown down her quill once more and was gently rubbing the tension headache that was rapidly forming behind her eyes. She found herself suddenly transported back to fourth year, when Ron and Harry were at odds, and she was the only link between them. She'd hated it then, and she surely hated it now. But, maybe, after they spent the evening together, going over their observances of the students, they could work out some of the tension between them.
"Fine. But, I'm not going to do this all year. You two need to come to some sort of way to deal with each other that doesn't involve fists." She told him, the eyes she raised to him telling him she was serious.
"Yes ma'am." He replied, offering her a cheeky grin. She gave an exasperated sigh and picked up her quill once again.
"I'll go talk to him after I'm done here." He could tell he was being dismissed and rose to leave.
"All right. I'll see you at the feast." He turned and started toward the door, pausing to look back at her before walking out. She was re-immersed in her lesson plans. He chuckled to himself as he walked out the door.
~*~*~
Ron stalked out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, skin still dripping from his shower. He was in a dark mood, having just realized what day it was and that in less than twenty-four hours, he was expected to be a teacher.
*Wonderful. * He thought irritably as he stalked around the room yanking clothes out of drawers and throwing them on the chair. He couldn't really say why he was so nervous about teaching. He'd faced werewolves, vampires, Voldemort and Deatheaters. Children couldn't be THAT scary. Then, a flash of the type of students Fred and George had been (not to mention himself and Harry) had gone through his mind, and he nearly decided to pack up to go home. Not that he wanted a class full of Hermione's and Percy's, either. Although, the thought of having a sea of Hermione's to gaze upon wasn't as unappealing a thought as originally intended. In fact, it caused a tightening in his stomach and a hardening of his nether regions while he imagined rows upon rows of sleek curls and cinnamon eyes staring back at him.
Better not think about that too often, or he'd embarrass himself for sure.
Well, he could always hope that they caught the troublemaker tonight at the feast, thereby ensuring that he would never have to set a foot in a classroom. Somehow, he didn't like his chances. Whoever was perpetrating the vandalism knew what they were doing and how to cover their tracks. Ron could only hope that the culprit wasn't quite so organized this year. Usually, with confidence came carelessness. He WOULD slip up, and Ron would be there to catch him when he did.
"Who is it?" He barked when a knock on the door broke him from his thoughts.
"Hermione." At the sound of her voice, a grin spread across his face. He'd avoided them for the last two weeks, not even admitting to himself that he'd hoped she'd seek him out.
"Hold on. I'm not dressed." He called back deliberately. He heard her gasped 'Oh' through the door and couldn't help the smirk that replaced his smile. Pulling on a pair of jeans (which he left the button undone) he walked to the door and pulled it open. Her eyes went as wide as saucers when she found herself presented with his bare chest.
"I-I thought you were going to get dressed." She stammered, her face turning red. For the life of her, she couldn't seem to avert her eyes from the wall of muscle and skin in front of her. Good heaven's, was her mouth really watering? The realization had her face turning into flames.
"The 'mportant parts are covered." He told her silkily. The laughter in his voice helped her to pull her gaze from his sculpted pecs and bring it to his eyes. She wasn't sure if that was much better. There was no mistaking the raw hunger in his blue orbs as they raked over her. She suddenly wished she'd worn something less attractive than the figure forming tan slacks and sleeveless pink blouse that had two buttons undone at the top. She had a feeling that he would still look at her like that if she had on a burlap sack. "Was there something you wanted?"
Surely it was her imagination that had that statement sounding like an invitation. Wasn't it?
"Uh, er . . . H-harry asked me to come by to tell you that he wants the three of us to meet tomorrow after the day's classes are done. So we can give our first impressions of the students." How she got this out she had no idea, since her mouth had gone from watering to dry as dust from the heated way he was staring at her. He had the look of a starving man gazing upon his first meal in weeks. And she was it.
"He couldn't come and tell me that himself?" Ron asked, bracing a hand against the door frame. It took Hermione a second to process his question, since the ripple of muscle under smooth skin caused coherent thought to take a vacation. She gave her head a quick shake to try to start up her brain again, but it was a little difficult when her eyes were level with his chest.
"H-he thought it best if I come, since there's less chance of you hitting me." She finally got out. Anger flared in her eyes when she realized just how much he was enjoying her predicament. His smirk was firmly in place as he gazed down at her. She had the irrational urge to pull out her wand and turn him into a toad (or something equally as disgusting) just to knock him down a peg or two.
"Well, I guess he's right about that." He agreed with a chuckle. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging some of the water still clinging to it. It ran in long, wet rivulets across his skin, drawing Hermione's eyes with it to the band of his jeans, where his hand had settled.
*Oh lord* was all her mind could manage when the realization that he had just taken a shower hit her. Her mind happily provided an image of him with water sliding across his body. She found herself immediately jealous of the water. It was time for her to leave.
"Er, right then. I'll see you at the feast." She turned to leave, only to stop when his warm fingers wrapped gently around her bicep. She couldn't seem to stop the tremor that shot through her at his touch.
"What's the rush?" He asked. No, asked was too benign a word to describe the way his voice sounded in that moment. It seemed almost liquid and warm, cascading over her like a velvet waterfall. Every cell in her body reacted to it, turning her to face him when her mind was screaming at her to run away. Danger bells sounded in her head when she raised her eyes to see desire had darkened his to near black. She didn't resist when he pulled her closer, then inside his room. The quiet click of the door closing barely registered, nor did the feel of the wall against her back. Ron leaned into her, trapping her between him and it, as if he were afraid she would bolt.
Hermione felt like she was drowning in the sea of his eyes. The soft rush of his breath on her face, the hard length of his body pressed against hers, was making it difficult to think. That pesky voice in her mind was insistently telling her that she didn't want to do this. Not now, when so much still laid broken between them. But, her body seemed to have other ideas. Her fingers itched to slide into his hair and rediscover its texture. Her lips ached to capture his and see if they were still as soft and warm as they had been. Her skin cried out for his hands (those long fingers and calloused palms) to glide over its silkiness. Every inch of her wanted every inch of him. Consequences be damned.
Her lids fluttered shut when he raised a hand to trace a finger over her cheek. Her lips parted when that finger drew across them. Arousal curled hot in her stomach, making her blood throb, her very center yearn for him. She was screaming for him, even though she hadn't made a sound.
"Mione, look at me." Her eyes opened at the sound of his hoarse command, to find him no better off than she was. His breath was coming in ragged gasps. His skin was flushed with desire, his pupil's dilated with it. His finger, now joined by the others, still ran delicately over her skin. They had traveled down her throat to the exposed skin in the front of her blouse. The calloused pads of his fingers caused her flesh to burn, her heart to skip beats. She knew, that all he had to do was dip his head to kiss her, and she would be lost.
"Ron . . . " Hermione had no idea what she was going to say. Her inner voice was still nagging her to stop this, before it was too late. But nothing other than his name came out.
"Sh." His fingers came up to rest against her lips, enticing her not to speak. "Just let me look at you. It's been so long." His words were barely a whisper, but the longing of them shouted to her loud and clear. For some reason, the sound of it snapped her out of the euphoric haze she had been in. Ron let out a "What the . . . " In surprise when he found himself stumbling back from her unexpected shove.
"And whose fault is that, Ronald Weasley, that it's been so long? You pushed ME away. You don't get to take liberties now." She snapped, the eyes that had been glazed with desire not a second before, now shooting fire at him. The change from seductor to predator overcame him so fast that she had no chance to react when he stalked back over to her. She gave an unladylike squeak when his fingers-so gentle before-seized her in a vice grip, hauling her against him.
"You didn't have such a problem cozying up to Harry, now did you? What makes it so much easier to forgive him than me?" He growled, lifting her off her feet until she was eye level. Hermione, whose heart was playing an erratic tattoo against her chest at how dangerous he looked right then, said the first thing that came to her mind.
"He didn't break my heart, you stupid git!"
Her words rang like a crack shot through the room as Ron seemed to deflate before her eyes. Pain clouded his face before he set her down and turned away, but she refused to feel guilty for the truth. His shoulders were slumped as he walked away from her. His hands cut an angry path through his hair, while her words sunk in. He turned toward her, a hand outstretched, mouth open as if to say something. What, Hermione would never know.
With timing that only seemed to exist in movies and on television, a knock sounded at the door, followed by Ginny's voice.
"Ron? Ron! Open the door. I need to talk to you."
"Dammit!" Ron spat, advancing on the door as if it had personally offended him. He jerked it open and glared down at his sister. "WHAT!"
"Don't shout at me. If you hadn't been avoiding me, I wouldn't have had to hunt you down, now would I?" She countered, walking past him into the room. "Oh, Hermione. I didn't mean to interrupt." Ginny's face turned apologetic then angry once more at the sight of her friends face. "Are you all right?"
"Yes. I was just leaving." Hermione said, turning to escape.
"We're not finished." Ron said as Hermione hurried past him. She didn't even spare him a glance. He took a minute to watch her retreat before turning back to face his sister. She had that determined look on her face, telling him he wasn't going to like what she had to say. "I'm not in the mood for whatever it is you have on your mind, Ginny." He warned, leaving the door open in a not so subtle hint that she should leave. All she did was cross her arms over her chest and toss her hair defiantly.
"Well, that's just too bad, isn't it? If I waited for you to be in the mood for something, I'd be freezing in Hell right about now. What did you do to Hermione?" She demanded, her question making him scowl.
"That's none of your business." He snarled.
"Haven't you hurt her enough?" Ginny shot back.
"Good with the family loyalty there, Gin." He sneered, stomping over to the chair and grabbing his shirt. He pulled it on with jerky movements.
"If you weren't acting like such a selfish prat, I might show you some."
"Didn't you have something you wanted to say?" Ron bit out through clenched teeth. Unintimidated, Ginny merely gave him a chilly smile.
"Yes, there is." She had finally decided that she was going to talk to Harry that night, after the feast. Now she just had to let Ron know she wouldn't tolerate any interference. She knew she could have kept it secret from him, but that was never the way to deal with Ron. If she laid it out for him, he would have no choice but to back off. She hoped. "I've decided that I'm going to talk to Harry. There's nothing you can do about, so don't think that you can start ordering me about. As you so eloquently put it a moment ago, it's none of your business." Ron's eyes narrowed as she talked, his anger practically spilling from his pores.
"Then why tell me?" His casual tone belied the fury flaring in his eyes.
"Because, brother dear, I just wanted to make sure that we understood each other. If you so much as breathe in Harry's direction, I will curse your parts so they shrivel up and fall off!" Ron would have laughed right in her face, if it hadn't been for the gleam in her eye that told him she was serious. That, of course, caused his temper to sky rocket.
"You think you're grown enough to take me on, little girl?" For the first time ever, Ginny felt a slice of fear in the face of her brother. He had gone so stiff, so cold that she suddenly realized she didn't know the man standing in front of her. But, she still refused to break down.
"You're my brother, Ron. NOT my keeper. I'm a grown woman." She reminded him.
"Not grown enough if you're willing to go running back to Harry!" He shot back.
"What are you talking about? I just want to talk to him. He owes me an explanation, and I want it!" Ginny was practically shouting now. Her tiny hands were bunched into fists, which were planted on her hips as she faced her brother. Her eyes, so similar to Ron's, were shooting sparks. Her mouth was set in a grim line while she glared at him.
"You're trying to tell me that it's going to end there?" He asked, looking at her as if she had just escaped from a mental ward. "With just talking? That you won't fall for whatever line of bunk he hands you then fall willingly back into his arms? Please Ginny. I know you better than that."
"Oh, really? And how is that possible since you've been a phantom in my life for the last three years?" She had the satisfaction to see guilt flare across his face. "You don't know me at all if you think that I'm so naive, or weak, that I'll just go running back to him."
"Won't you? You've had it for him since you TEN, Gin. You haven't been out on more than a handful of dates since he left. There's been no one serious since-oh, what the hell is his name . . . Brian! And that only lasted three months." Ginny realized that Charlie had a big mouth. Since she barely saw Ron once a year, the eldest Weasley was the only way he could have found out about her dating habits. "You've been waiting for the great Harry Potter to come back for you. Don't deny it!" He ordered when she opened her mouth to do just that. "Guess what Ginny. He didn't. And he's not going to. The only reason he's here is to help Dumbledore. He'd been here how long before me and Hermione got here? And he didn't try to see you once? That seems pretty telling to me."
"Probably because you threatened him." She accused, hating the hot tears spilling down her cheeks, almost as much as she was hating her brother right then.
"You're right. I did." He admitted without shame. She was surprised to see the coldness drop from his face, leaving sadness in its wake. "But we both know, that if Harry wanted to see you, he would. Having to deal with me, be damned. He's not the same man he was." He was trying to be kind now. Ginny could see the intention of it in his face. His words were not kind, however, and she couldn't forgive him for forcing her to face the things she herself had been thinking. The need to lash out and hurt him as much as he had hurt her welled up inside of her.
"You're not the same man you were either, Ron. That man, I was proud to call brother. But, now, the man that you've become. So hard and unfeeling. You make me sick." The glare she sent him sliced through his heart, right on the trail of her words. He was struck speechless by the harshness of them. Triumphant that she had hit her mark, Ginny turned and left the room, leaving him standing there, the wounds in his heart reopened and bleeding.
~*~*~
Hermione stumbled into her room and managed to make it to her bed before she collapsed.
*Damn him. DAMN HIM! * She chanted in her head viciously. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes to try to keep the tears at bay. She would NOT cry. She supposed she should have felt somewhat victorious at the knowledge that he still wanted her. But, lust wasn't love, and she was old enough to know the difference. She realized how easy it would be to fall back into bedd with him. Even now that she was safely back in her room, with Ron halfway across the castle, she could still feel the heat of promise in his eyes.
What if he didn't love her anymore? What if he had changed so much, he wasn't capable of it? That thought had her insides twisting painfully. Would she be willing to settle for that? Maybe she was getting ahead of herself. What if he didn't even want THAT? What if this was just a game to him? What if she was just going insane?
Somehow, she thought that last bit was true, no matter whether the rest was or not. Ron made her crazy. Period.
With a laugh that bordered on hysterical, and a loud sniff, she scrubbed her hands over her eyes. When she sat up, her gaze was drawn to a square of white on the floor by her door. A curious frown creased her forehead. For some reason, her heart slammed against her chest as she went to pick it up. Her hands were shaking when she turned it over to break the seal on the envelope. There had been no name on the front, but it seemed obvious that it was for her. She pulled the slip of parchment out of the envelope and turned it over to read the short message.
WELCOME BACK, HERMIONE.
Logically-and Hermione prided herself on being logical-there was no reason for fear to grip her throat so tight, she had to struggle to breathe. The words held no threat, no malice of any kind. It could have been from any one of the teachers that she hadn't seen yet.
Of course, she couldn't think of one that she hadn't. Not to mention, that if it HAD been a teacher, they surely would have signed it. And it would have been handwritten and delivered by an owl. Not typeset and shoved under her door. With her heart still beating hard against her ribs, Hermione shoved the note back in the envelope and hurried to her door. As expected, no one was there when she opened it. A cold chill ran down her spine at how quiet the halls were. She presumed that everyone was about, getting ready for the influx of students that would be upon them in a few short hours. But right now, the castle held an eery quiet that made her realize just how alone she was in this part of the castle. She knew the Hufflepuff dormitories were somewhere near by, but she couldn't be sure just where. She'd never had the occasion to go there, so, she only had a vague idea. Professor Sprout's room had to be close as well, but that seemed little comfort at the moment.
Closing the door and feeling foolish, Hermione threw the note on her dresser and started to collect her things so she could take a shower. No matter where she moved in the room, however, her eyes kept returning to where it lay, half propped up by a perfume bottle.
"Ridiculous!" She scolded herself, stomping over to it and putting it in the top drawer. *Just tell Harry and Ron about it if it's bothering you so much. * Her inner voice suggested. But the thought of the two of them looking at her like she'd gone daft didn't settle well. It wouldn't do for them to think that she was jumping at shadows.
"No, I won't be telling them." She told the empty room with a definitive nod. Then, forcing it out of her mind, she went to go get ready. The feast was only a few hours away.
~*TBC*~
