A/N: Thanks again to reviewers Ayla Pascal, Emily K. Lupin, ermioneH, Lavander Ice, Le Qui Chat Garde La Lune, Silent Onion, and Sorensen for patience and encouragement.

Chapter 17: More Important Than A Boyfriend


8 February

Neville was wonderful today. It was beautiful. He was a breathless ten minutes late for Potions, and Snape was not in any better frame of mind than usual.

"Well, well, well. It appears Longbottom got lost in the big scary cold dungeons again." The Slytherins snickered and I carefully stole an anxious glance at him.

But Neville wasn't tiptoeing in fearfully with a stammered apology. Indeed, he was almost serene as he walked inside and took a cauldron, except that he was red from embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Professor Snape. I lost track of time."

"Indeed. Like most things," Snape snarled. "Care to explain yourself, or have you also lost track of manners?"

"You say explanation are excuses and excuses are unacceptable, sir," Neville replied evenly.

Someone - probably Ron - whistled.

I thought - hoped - Snape would look put out, but his expression was unreadable. "Which is a roundabout way of saying you were doing something you weren't supposed to do. Twenty points from Gryffindor - ten for the minutes, ten for whatever rule you broke."

Most of the Gryffindors either scowled or rolled their eyes.

"Before you interrupted, we were discussing Somia Mixtures. Longbottom, what does such a potion do - when brewed correctly?"

"Helps you recall your most recent dreams."

"Speak in full sentences. One point from Gryffindor. What's a key ingredient of a Somia Mixture?"

Neville bit his lower lip a moment, gaze on a lower section of the wall. He looked apprehensive again before squaring his shoulders, as if stiffening his resolve. "One of the ingredients is - is roseweood sap."

"One ingredient. Name any others?"

Neville winced slightly.

"Well? You've wasted enough time, hurry up, boy."

"I don't know, sir." Neville eyed Snape levelly, unflinchingly. Where he had found this new confidence, I wasn't sure, but it was great - inspiring. As Snape turned to Blaise Zambini, several of us applauded lightly, and the boys gave Neville one of those punches on the back.

I finished my Somia Mixture quickly and pulled out the book I had found in the library. I had to check it out along with five other unrelated volumes so as to not arouse Madam Pince's suspicions. It's The Lion and the Serpent: An Account of the Hogwarts Rivalry. I'm trying to find instances of raiding foreign common rooms. (I have a funny feeling that Remus and Sirius could shed a lot of light on that, but they're too suspicious already. Furthermore, how do you word that? "Please tell me about those numberous times I suspect you sabotaged the Slytherin common room. How hard exactly was it to get the password? Hope Buckbeak's all right. Sincerely…" Yes, that sounds lovely. Come to think of it, it doesn't sound as ridiculous as it might, sadly…)

I had barely cleaned up and gotten past the introduction when Snape's voice cut in sharply: "You blithering idiot!"

Malfoy couldn't seem to hide a very refined, posh, high-class snort of laughter. Ahem.

I glanced up in time to see Snape pull out his wand. Neville's cauldron was overflowing alarmingly and causing a large puddle of clear liquid that rose in thin bubbles. Then he suddenly withdrew it. "Oh, no." He walked over, nonchalantly avoided the potion on the floor, and picked up Neville's vial of sloth bile. He held it up for all to see; it was full and unused. There were more snickers from the Slytherins.

"Perhaps I can make you to not lose track of crucial steps next time, Longbottom." He produced a damp rag. "You clean that up by hand, now. No magic."

Neville, with a minimum of reddening, took the rag, got on his hands and knees, and started to collect the mixture. The Slytherins found it extremely amusing as the potion wettened his robes and shone on his arms, but he ignored them.

"You're disgusting," Ron was muttering furiously, hands shaking as he and Harry finished their own potion. "You're disgusting and bitter and a slimy creep…" (I suppose he was talking about Snape. Just a wild guess.)

"Weasley? Stop talking to yourself; you'll end up in St. Mungo's," Snape cut in. "Insanity wing."

Neville overbalanced and toppled to one side as Malfoy laughed outright. I suppose Malfoy startled him and had a sudden urge to hex Malfoy into the stratosphere.

"What's with him?" Malfoy sneered.

"Been kissing behind the greenhouses; head's in a cloud," Snape replied smoothly with a nasty glare to Neville.

"Ooooooh," resounded the familiar cry, echoing around the dungeon as Neville carefully kept his head down.

"Longbottom's just been distracted lately," Snape sneered, looking down at him as if he were some sort of insect. "Probably kissing behind the greenhouses; head in a cloud."

What little I could see of Neville's head turned pink. Ron, a few tables down from me, scowled, having had enough. He whispered loudly, recklessly: "Snape's just jealous 'cause no witch in their right mind's been kissing him, especially not in Sprout's greenhouses."

There was a pronounced silence. I wondered if Snape, at the other end of the room, had heard, when Sara smirked. "I wouldn't be too sure of that, you know, Ron."

That was the straw that broke the hippogriff's back. Us Gryffindors snickered heartily. Ron and Blustovadk both have detention.


10 February

The Lion and the Serpent is useless in that area. Well, I suppose not useless, but it has a frustrating lack of the information I was hoping for.

It seems that just about every time one House makes it to the other's common room, there's usually bribery or a traitor involved. It further seems that never, in any case, was the password found from lack of security on the part of the staff, although prefects have been key ground at times. Velna Gashingburg, a Gryffindor (all us Gryffindors are ashamed to admit), and Filius Rossier, a Slytherin, had made many Galleons in selling their passwords and weren't caught for many years afterwards. How dare they. That's not exactly loyalty to your House. In any case, no one has ever broken the Orb of Passwords, Passages, and Another Secretive Matters that is controlled by the Head Boy and Girl. This year that is Machete Baddock and Leila Hildegarde, a responsible Ravenclaw. Hmm. While I put nothing past Baddock, even the Head Boy can't get the password to any but his own House.

In any case, the book has been damaged anyway, because the Society for Purity caught me in the hallways again and chucked it around. I don't know what to tell Madam Pince; she's going to have my head on a platter and will probably dissect my organs to give to Snape for Potions ingredients.

The school is in a frenzy over the Valentine Friday Night Fling (technically, it's not a Friday night, but that's a minor detail everyone is planning to overlook). I have not been asked. Parvati has, though - Milo Benney, a Gryffindor sixth-year. That's nice for her. So has Susan Bones, she's going with Justin Finch-Fletchey. Lavender and Seamus are going together, of course, no one ever doubts that.

Ron was not going to ask anyone until I overheard Harry and him in conversation. Now, if you'll believe me, Harry is asking Cho Chang. Really. I didn't believe it. Tactless! But I can't blame him, and, well, it's sweet. Somehow, I think if Cho refused him, I might send a curse or two learned from the Society for Purity her way. Oh, not really. But I wish she would, just once, so they have a chance to talk and reconcile - not that there was any fight in the first place. It leaves Ron in quite a position, however, and I know he hopes Cho refuses.

Cripes, this is sad when I'm reduced to filling in on dating gossip in my diary. Last time, well, that's my first time, I have an excuse. I really must stop this habit, however.

February 11


What did I say about stop recording the dating news? Oh, but this has to go in, it's too good!

Neville and Cho are going to the Friday Night Fling together!

That is sweet; that is very, very sweet. Poor Cho needs someone to comfort her since Cedric's death, and Neville is the sweetest person for listening you've ever met.

I overheard it today while listening to Ron and Harry.

Ron: "How'd asking Cho go?" (He sounded hopeful. Harry looked dejected.)

Harry: "She said she was going with someone else." (Harry sat down at a table in the common room, supporting his forehead with the palm of his hand, which was supported by the surface of the table.)

Ron: "Oh. Well. Well, you know, she probably had a zillion good-looking hopefuls ask her out; it's not as if, well, you know."

Harry: "No one has been asking her. They feel too awkward about Cedric."

Ron: "Oh. Well. Well, how did - who - ?"

Harry: "Neville."

There was a long silence.

Ron: "That's not even funny, Harry!" He laughed anyway, chuckling as he used the "joke" as an excuse to put his Transfiguration homework aside.

Harry: "I'm not joking."

Ron didn't even know what to say when he was finally convinced that Harry was serious. "I - how - no - I mean - Neville - can't be - Cho - you - that's… Neville Longbottom?" as if there were dozens of Nevilles in the school. Then he saw me staring at them raptly. "What do you want?" he sneered.

I turned my head haughtily. It wasn't hard; I just imagined Fleur Delacour. "Nothing from you." How easily that lie came.

They had to run off to their next class (Ron working out excuses to give McGonagall, I'm sure) but Sara, who had been sitting by them and helping to brace Harry, murmured to them quite audibly: "For someone who now hates you, she takes a lot of interest in what you're doing, doesn't she?" Oh, how very clever of her. But let's not think of Blustovadk right now. That ruins a perfectly good piece of news (besides Harry, of course, I feel badly for him, and it must've taken a few sleepless nights to work up the nerve, but I'm so happy for Neville!

It took precisely three hours for this piece of news to catch around the school like wildfire. Neville entered the common room a little while ago (it's evening now) to thunderous applause. The twins, Seamus, and Ron especially were very enthusiastic about the deal. Neville was blushing furiously at the twins' bad jokes. Well, Fred's. George is… George is somewhere. Rodney Grids kept saying rather thickly: "The prettiest girl in school, Longbottom, she's the prettiest girl in school!"

"Rod, I'm hurt," a girl in his year teased, pretending to pout.

Neville seemed absolutely relived that the conversation had finally turned from him and Cho. That didn't last long, however, but he seemed to have gained some small about of self-confidence. It wasn't as obvious as in the Potions room facing Snape, but it's been there a while, and I wonder why I didn't notice.

But that is probably the best piece of news I've heard in a while, and when Neville glanced at me, I managed another small, discreet smile, and he returned it. I can risk a little for him, I suppose.


February 12

The Society for Purity caught me again today. They have been frequently; I just don't see any point in depressing myself further. Anyway, this one is worth recording.

It was a sixth-floor corridor. I went there for privacy to read The Tale of Two Houses. That was a plain stupid move. I was on the second chapter when I heard these distinctive footsteps that are imprinted in my memory - Malfoy's shuffling swagger, Baddock's intimidating straightness, Goyle's heavy thumping about, Peterson's tiptoe walk, and Rodgers's uncertain following.

I screamed at myself inwardly - stupid, stupid, stupid! I should have known better and felt that this episode was coming to me and well deserved.

The confrontations have gotten tiresomely similar, but each frightening, with Baddock's deadpanning threats and Goyle's cracking of knuckles. I had remained silent throughout the beginning and aroused their impatience. Finally Baddock withdrew his wand and held it at me, even while knowing it does nothing, and Goyle and he stepped up, ready to punch me in the shoulder -

"My, my, my, whatever happened to 'hands off'?"

"I don't know, Sara, perhaps Mr. Goyle and Mr. Baddock are just pantomiming."

"Let's hope so, Dean," a grim voice said. I opened my eyes and saw the owner of the third voice - Leila Hildegarde, the Head Girl. Goyle's fist was quickly down. The Slytherins were blocking my view from anyone but Leila, Dean, and Sara's arm, so I wondered why. Baddock grabbed me threateningly, as if taking me as a hostage.

"Hello, all," Leila continued brightly. "Some of Hermione's classmates have been clueing us in on their suspicions of this kind of thing. Machete," her tone got much colder, "take your hands off Miss Granger. Immediately."

Baddock's hand left my forearm reluctantly as he tried to sneer, but as he stepped aside, I saw my defenders more clearly. Nearly every non-Slytherin prefect was there, from the Head Girl herself to Dean, Sara, Terry, Justin, Susan, Cho Chang, Houghton Kelsey, Alicia, Sunny Fawcett, and a couple of others I didn't recognise. They far outnumbered the Society. The Slytherins' faces were carefully controlled, but they clearly weren't as confident as they'd been.

"Malfoy, give her back her wand," Dean ordered, voice tight and stern.

Malfoy glanced at Baddock. I didn't see Baddock's expression change, but obviously he communicated something, and Malfoy held it out to me. I took it firmly.

"Interesting, Machete," Leila said coolly. "I seem to remember that there are several rules in place that apply to this situation. To begin, no Hogwarts student is to be manhandled. Secondly, no Hogwarts student is to be threatened. Thirdly -"

"How, how noble, Hildegarde," Baddock sneered. "Rules? Every Hogwarts student has been manhandled and threatened."

"Thirdly," Leila said a little more loudly, "everyone has the right to enjoy the privilege of a safe and harm-free environment for education -"

"Typical Ravenclaw," Peterson cut in with a sneer of his own. "Laying down the laws. And?"

Leila looked angrier, but Sara whispered something.

"Watch it, Blustovadk. Whispering in front of company is very rude," Malfoy commented.

Leila nodded to Blustovadk and Dean. Blustovadk smiled vaguely. "Beating up a fellow classmate is very rude."

"Doing it the coward's way in deserted corridors and threatening her not to tell anyone is also very rude," Dean agreed. "Speaking of which, you all right, Hermione?"

No, I was not all right. My face burned furiously.

"Mr. Thomas and Miss Blustovadk are very talented in the area of dueling," Leila informed us.

Without a moment's hesitation, Dean and Sara raised their wands. Two small strips of lightening crackled across, meeting each other in the middle and ricocheting to the ceiling. They left small burn marks precisely on two of the diamonds of the painted pattern.

The Slytherins were silent, but I doubt they were scared. Some of them were probably Avada Kedarvaing since birth.

"Nothing prevents us from turning you in to the teachers," Cho spoke up in a quiet, angry voice. "Except that we'll trust you just once not to do it again."

"Yeah, Mrs. Diggory." Even for the Society, that was pretty low. I don't know who said it. "We can deny everything, you know."

Cho paled, but looked composed.

"We have proof. We can gather your notes and have your victims as witness and there's such things as truth serums," Leila pointed out. "So if we see your hands on Miss Granger ever again, or she informs us that has happened, it's off to Dumbledore for you all. Hermione? Come on." She Summoned my book.

Was I grateful? Well, yes. But I also felt humiliated. I didn't meet anyone's eyes as I unwillingly crossed over to my cavalry.

"Good day," Alicia said bitingly. "Not that you need it. Your consciences don't exist; I don't see what'll bother you."

I mumbled a sort of thanks after we left.

"No problem, Hermione," Terry said heartily. "I'm just sorry we didn't know before. Sara and Dean clued us in by observing you."

I tried very hard not to glare at them.

"It's been happening with several others," Leila added. "We're trying to prevent it. Hermione, if they bother you again, come straight to us, all right? No use in me being Head Girl if I can't do anything about those creeps."

"I'll be fine," I said flatly. "Don't worry."

"We will worry," Sunny Fawcett insisted. "You're one of the cleverest students in the school."

I tried to find the connection between those two sentences.

I suppose I felt honoured, in a way, but I was also frustrated with them. Do they think just turning them over to the teachers will help? These are the children with Death Eaters as Mama and Papa. If I make trouble for them, they will for me and twofold. That doesn't solve anything and it gets Dumbledore worried.

Still, it's sort of nice to know most of the circle of prefects, not to mention Head Girl, thinks that highly of you.


February 13

Well, so much for elated feelings of happiness.

What is with all these hormones? Isn't anyone possibly sane and in their right mind any longer?

I had finished writing and had completed most of my homework of the week when I decided the excited common room was too much and needed some quiet. Parvati and Lavender were in the common room, reading Teen Witch Weekly, and Sara is often goodness-knows-where, prefect duties or whatnot.

Not tonight, however. I slipped up the circling staircase and heard a boy's voice. Immediately wondering why on earth they were over here so late at night - ahem - I walked softly and realised they were by the door to the fifth years' dormitory.

"So - yes, sure, that'll, that'll be fi - great." It was Sara.

"Oh, yeah." This was George, sounding incredibly relived. "T-Thanks a lot, that will - er, I mean - s-so you're not angry?"

Sara laughed rather nervously and breathlessly. "Oh, no, not at all - I can't really tell you off for that, you saved my life…"

"Not literally," George said modestly.

I remained silent, curious as to what this was. I thought Sara might've been referring to when George had caught her in mid-air the practice before Christmas that Snape had tried to boot her off the team. Then, curse them, the Parvati and Lavender showed up.

"Sara? George?" Lavender asked in slight disbelief. "Er - what are you doing here?"

"Nothing," they said together quickly.

"George - George was just explaining something about - about History of Magic to me," Blustovadk said quickly.

I snickered. Really - hallo!

Parvati grinned knowingly. "Ah, really?" she asked innocently. "Sorry for interrupting; if we could get in our dorm…"

"Yeah, sure," George said, and the two practically jumped out of the way. "Erm, see you later, Sara."

I wondered whether it would be incredibly rude to mention aloud how their necks were reddening by the second.

"G'night, George. And - and thanks!"

He nodded. "Sure." They exchanged a last smile and kept eye contact for a smidgen longer than necessary.

Sara was getting no peace. I was still slightly shocked, although I guessed that explained why George was a little off lately, but Parvati and Lavender bombarded her with questions.

"What about History of Magic?" Parvati demanded.

"Nothing." Sara was trying, and not utterly succeeding, in sounding serene, although her tone was light. "George just asked me to the Fling tomorrow, that's all."

Even though I'm sure we had all guessed that by now, the girls' faces lit up with big knowing smiles. "Aw, you two make a great couple!"

"I hope you'll be happy," Lavender nodded, with the air of one of to whom having a steady boyfriend is an old experience.

Sara rolled her eyes. "It's just one Fling, we haven't really discussed marriage yet. In fact, we won't."

"The Valentine's Fling," I couldn't help but add significantly, taking her act down.

"If you'll all excuse me, I need some sl -" Blustovadk began.

"And - ohmigosh - did he send you the Nimbus?" Parvati asked suddenly.

Sara nodded, blushing, and Lavender practically screamed. "Sara! That's so romantic!"

My role as Bad Girl was becoming more and more comfortable. "Oh, come on, it's a battered secondhand broomstick," I pointed out.

Parvati and Lavender glared at me poisonously.

"Why anonymously?" Parvati asked quickly.

"George said he felt shy about asking me…"

"That's so sweet…"

And now this conversation has gotten sickeningly sugary. Concentrate on Neville and Cho, Hermione, concentrate on Neville and Cho… and go to sleep. Luckily Crookshanks has told me that he finds this all as silly as myself. He rolled his yellow eyes and curled up on my feet, paws over his ears.


February 15

The night was fine, the food was delicious, the drinks were cold, the stars and crescent moon were shining, the Malaclaws were setting aside hard beat for smooth rhythm. Cho and Neville had disappeared after Neville's admirable attempts to dance properly; Lavender and Seamus looked stunning as always; people stared at George and Sara; Ron and Harry had struck up a conversation with Sally-Anne Perks (I think Harry secretly likes her heavy Irish accent) and Charlotte Kindle (who looked stunning with some serious cosmetic and dressing help). All romantic and lovely and all was right in the world and I hope they all enjoyed their Fling.

How can anyone think of that with a war going on?

There was another mark of war last night. I spotted Nicole Fairchild (honestly, that girl has an absolute magnetism for Friday Night Flings) through the doorway and went to investigate. I crossed the room easily and slipped into the corridor, mumbling Chameleon Charms (they're weak, but better than none).

"Why, Ms. Skylark!" Sinistra exclaimed. "I didn't know you'd be attending tonight…" She trailed off.

Ms. Skylark's simple navy robes were torn and soiled badly; her face was cut and bleeding, not terribly so, but enough for concern, definitely. "Professor, I need to see Dumbledore - this is urgent, please!"

"Er - yes, of course - I think he's busy at the moment -"

"Tell him it's about Aberdeen! The dragon and Josette!"

Sinistra obeyed orders, quickly running off. I hid behind the tableclothed table and watched Skylark keenly as she waited, looking for any sign of guilt. She wasn't quite wringing her hands, but close to it. She was panting heavily and barely repressing sobs.

Dumbledore rushed in. "Nicole? What is it? Oh - Nicole -"

It's so very odd. The last time I saw Dumbledore and Skylark together, Dumbledore was as close to harsh as I've ever seen him. I had been even a little scared of him, at Ms. Skylark for causing it. But now his expression was soft and caring, and as the tears spilled over the singer's face, he gently held an arm out and pulled her into a comforting hug, like an uncle comforting a niece who just got dumped by her first serious boyfriend. I can only conclude that he chastises and comforts by what the moment dictates, and now I respect and trust him more than ever.

"Nicole, tell me what happened."

"The dragon - really was one - Ch-Charlie saw that right - right away. Remus and Charlie t-told Josie and me to double-back… I lost track of Josie… I don't know how the boys are doing but last I saw they had gotten a bit singed - where on earth was the Ministry? - Sir, you've got to send me back there to look for Josie - she can't do magic, you know that!"

"Okay, Nicole, I see -"

A quick slam of the front entrance door and two more familiar faces appeared, which was a relief to know they were apparently all right even if it didn't let me know who Josie was.

"She's not here - damn - please tell me she's here," Charlie pleaded distractedly. Except maybe for Sirius that night in the Shrieking Shack, I have truly never seen anyone so pale, especially when Charlie is usually so sunburned and tan.

"If you mean Josette, she hasn't arrived here," Dumbledore replied calmly.

Charlie swore. "I knew we shouldn't have trusted Hopkirk! Nicole, when'd you last see Josie?"

"At the bridge of Rowena's River. Wh -"

"Hopkirk swore he saw Josie and Nicole use the Portkey," Remus explained to her and Dumbledore calmly, but with edgy quickness. "He said he and Maurice would keep looking for her over there and to alert you now."

"We didn't!" Nicole protested worriedly.

That's obvious, I said to myself. Unless Nicole was lying. She had apparently been the last to see this Josie person.

Remus and Charlie didn't bother waiting one second more before readying to leave. (Who is this Josie? Who?)

"Charlie, Remus, wait a moment, please," Dumbledore commanded, his voice not sounding like he was in the middle of some disastrous calamity.

Their reluctance to halt was obvious, but they did. Dumbledore continued: "You two had better at least heal some of those cuts. You're going right out to battle Death Eaters and the dragon if you're looking for Josie."

"No, really? I thought I had to pick her up at the Leaky Cauldron and stroll around awhile," Charlie muttered, jaw set tightly. He inhaled labouredly. "We'll do that on the way, see you later, Sir - Nicole."

Nicole ran after them. "Sorry!" she called over her shoulder to Dumbledore. "I'll be needed. I'll see that the boys use a few charms. Charlie looks terrible for his Diagon Alley date."

Dumbledore watched them go, blue eyes vaguely concerned. "I'm sure you will, my dear," he said to himself. "When you remember."

I waited a little while Dumbledore stroked his beard, apparently running through strategy and tactics in a world no one else could follow. I wonder how he handles that all himself. Then I wondered how we would handle that if anything happened to him. No, that's ridiculous.

He disappeared a few moments. I stayed hidden, waiting to see more, worried, perhaps, that they might be out all night.

The doors to the entrance hall opened, and silhouetted in the doorway was a slight woman. She walked inside, gaping at the halls around her. I noticed by the torches that her hair was a coppery colour. She stepped hesitantly, and I debated helping her. For one, I didn't want to reveal I had been there. For another, the poor woman looked desperately frightened and lost. I ran through options - this might be Josie, and I can meet her - it might be a Death Eater, I might die - Dumbledore might be angry with me - he knew I was there the whole time, what doesn't he know? - until the question was settled. Dumbledore himself walked in.

"Miss Chance, I assume." (He pronounced it the French way.) "A pleasure to meet you at last."

Josie Chance looked at him, large silvery-blue eyes frightened, before Dumbledore's comfort slipped over her. She gave a very small smile. "Yes, Sir. You must be Professor Dumbledore - I've heard much of you from Remus and Charlie."

"Most of it good, I hope." Dumbledore took her hand and kissed it, although she was only about Charlie's age.

"Y-Yes." I wondered if Josie felt the same as myself - how can Dumbledore be so courteous at a time like this?

"I'm interested to know how you got here alive. The two in mention are searching for you."

Josie's eyes widened. "Oh, no - will they know to come back? It's - It's terrible over there, Sir, I'm worried for them."

"We'll send for them as quickly as possible, indeed. They're more than capable of taking care of themselves. Charlie has raised the Hungarian Twins" (he has? Why has no one mentioned this?) "and Remus is a duelist equal to the best Aurors, according to Alastor Moody." (Another surprise. So modest, we all are.)

Josie looked surprised but not as impressed as myself. "Erm - that's very good, I take it?"

"Extremely so. And Nicole - you know of her? - is no fool, either."

Josie didn't relax until Remus returned. Charlie had told him to check and see if Josie had gotten there. With a sigh of relief and a concerned question of Josie's health, he set back to get Charlie and Nicole from the melee. Aurors and the Hit Squad were handling it, and both had been annoyed at their "interference". (Apparently they don't know what I had, either, or they resent it.)

Charlie took one look at Josie and hugged her so tightly I thought the slim girl was going to have her bones crushed. He cried silently, absolutely unashamed. (I wonder if Ron would ever cry in public without gruffly trying to cover it.)

"We have this much to be thankful for," Dumbledore said gently when Charlie released her and dried his eyes considerably. "If you would all come with me? We need to talk privately."

What happened to perfectly obedient Hermione? I didn't even realise that I had been plotting unabashedly on how to follow them when Remus told them he'd be there in just a moment. After they left, he came over to the table.

"Hallo, Hermione."

I reddened furiously and scrambled to my feet. "Hello, Remus. Feeling all right from the skirmish?"

"Right as rain. Shouldn't you be enjoying the Fling? They seem to be rare now." Remus's tone was casual.

I didn't meet his eye. "I don't like Flings. I never did like being a 'real girl'."

"Nonsense. You just don't enjoy not being a 'real girl' lately."

I stiffened and used my most detached voice. "I don't know what you mean, Sir."

"You miss Harry and Ron and Ginny. Understandably."

Prove it, I almost shot back. "Why would I be missing them?" I didn't know what tone to use, no I kept it neutral. Slytherins might be listening.

Remus sighed. "Hermione, if you want me signal to them some way about this -"

"No."

I expected him to argue. He didn't. I tried to imagine what he was thinking and came up with the memory of him explaining his own deceit to his friends that he felt so lucky to have. It was my turn to sigh. "Not to be ungrateful. I just feel a little tired." I wondered if he'd press me some more.

"Very well." He paused and gave me a significant glance. "Try to remember the adjective Professor Dumbledore just used - we need to talk privately."

I reddened again, deeply. "Yes. Sir." I wasn't even trying to be pert with that answer; he just sounded very teacherish at that moment.

"If you want some details, owl Snuffles and me a little later," he said more gently. "G'night, Hermione."

I said something polite in return (I hope) and did retreat to my dormitory. Collasping onto my four-poster (not bothering to change my robes) I debated on whether to talk up on Remus's offer to get information - bless him for knowing adolescent curiosity, I want nothing more than to get that information - and decided on "no". I wanted to stay away from them as well - Slytherins were probably patrolling my post - and furthermore, I didn't want to deal with their well-meaning intentions to reconcile my situation to Ron, Harry, and Ginny.

I've always been the weaker one of the group; vulnerable and bookish. It's always me who gets picked on and sneered at for being Muggle-born. How long do they have to worry about me? Not now, I can assure you.


Darn. Not enough room for one more little scene. *makes face* 'Til next time.