Amongst the dreamers

By Penny-in-the-sky

RATING: PG – 13 (just to be on the safe side)

SUMMARY: Ron and Hermione end up in the hospital wing after a day of ice-skating.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have no idea if ice skating is a well known activity in the wizarding world, but let's just pretend it isn't, or else a lot of things in this fic won't make any sense.

DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to JK Rowling. The song lyrics are from "Meltdown" by Live.

***

"Like Himalayan cold winter

These jaws of Kali Yuga

It's a crazy kind of cold

A lifeless slumber in a stranglehold

And Tibet, she can't even touch this

I'd rather freeze in her forests

In the spirit of winter

And I long for the one who is

Fire, amongst the dreamers

You are in my heart"

***

Part 1

~Announcements~

Hermione gave a little sigh of contentment as she cuddled up at the end of the big couch by the fireplace. She felt the warmth of the fire soak through her robes and reach all the way through to her bones as she opened the book which laid on her lap. It had been a long time since she'd had some time to herself, and now that she finally did, she intended on making the most of it.

She glanced quickly out the window while working to find a comfortable reading position, and noted that it had stopped snowing. Less than half an hour earlier snow had coloured the sky completely white, but now the vision was perfectly clear. The sun had yet to come out, but the worst part of the storm was definitely over.

It had caught them all a bit by surprise, the raging blizzard. December had passed without anything more than a soft snowfall on Christmas Day, of which the remains had disappeared almost before any of the eager boys had had time to get their scarves and mittens on. Then the weather had been fairly mild without as much as a single snowflake dropping from the clouds. Half of January had passed before, suddenly this morning, the students had woken up to find it was impossible to see anything through the windows because of the raging snowstorm outside. Hermione had come down to find the common room bustling with excited boys, and girls for that matter, eager to get outside and down to business. She'd found out that their only two classes of the day, Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, had been cancelled due to the weather, and they were all free to do what they wanted.

Hermione looked around. The common room was as good as empty, except for a small group of first-years huddled on the floor, playing with a tiny grey-and -white kitten. The owner of the small but lively animal was a girl with big, brown hair and a pointy little nose. She seemed to be in charge of the game, gesturing back and forth to show how the kitten was to be handled. A small, sandyhaired boy in the group snickered and said something that Hermione couldn't quite make out, and the rest of the participants of the game giggled, but the big-haired girl was clearly offended. She spoke in a high-pitched voice, loud enough for Hermione to hear.

"Oh, honestly, Tim! Sometimes you act like such a child!"

Hermione couldn't help but smile to herself. Partly because the little girl was hardly grown-up enough to reprimand someone for acting like a child (especially when this person indeed was a child), but mostly because the scene which had just taken place before her reminded her a great deal of another eleven-year-old girl who had stood on this very floor, four years earlier, telling her two best friends off for not making enough of an effort when it came to doing their homework.

She felt an unwelcome lump form in her throat at the memories. Swallowing quickly, she blinked a few times to stop her eyes from stinging the way they insisted on doing every time she thought back nowadays.

It wasn't that she was unhappy. No, she was very happy. And, compared to a lot of others, she was incredibly lucky. She had loving parents and wonderful friends, plus the privilege of attending the world's finest school of witchcraft and wizardry. Hermione was not at all displeased with life.

Well, maybe a little bit. She felt silly and ungrateful for admitting this, even if it was just to herself. She felt like she had no right to complain. And maybe she wasn't complaining. But at times like these, when the memories came flooding back and she for some reason felt like crying her eyes out and throwing things at the walls in frustration, she knew that there were things she wasn't happy about. It was hard to put a finger on what these things were, they were always there, lurking in the shadows of the back of her mind, but refusing to come out and reveal themselves; taunting and infuriating her to the point where she almost took offence by it.

It was just that... well, things were different. That couldn't be denied. Of course, there was the whole "Return of the Dark Lord"-thing, but she'd had more than six months to think that through, and although life nowadays was a lot more about "constant vigilance" and watching your back than about planning which candy to buy on your next trip to Hogsmeade, the daily life at Hogwarts hadn't changed all that much.

So far. Hermione shuddered involuntarily at that thought.

The other changes that were troubling her were almost imperceptible. You had to look very, very closely to see any change at all from how things had been before. But they were there. Oh yes, they were definitely there and they were enough to make Hermione mad. Just little things, tiny little things. Like how she felt when she looked in the mirror and saw her horrible hair being bushier than usual, and wanting nothing more than to get hands on some of that amazing hair-potion right that instant. Or like seeing her two best friends gawk at a pretty girl and wonder if anybody would ever look at her that way. Or like having trouble looking one certain red-headed boy in the eye without blushing or having her stomach doing annoying flip-flops...

Hermione didn't get to think any further. The portrait-hole swung open, and pretty much all the inhabitants of Gryffindor House entered. They were laughing and joking, rather loudly at that, and Hermione realised that her precious alone time had ended practically before it'd started. With a sigh, she closed her book and put her feet down on the floor, but remained seated. She sat back and studied the people in the now bustling room. Seamus and Dean were loudly reliving the events of the snowball fight, enhancing the description with waving hands and theatrical facial expressions. Next to them, Parvati was helping Lavender remove snow from her hair, and every now and then they gave a giggle and sneaked a peek over at the two boys standing a few feet away.

Neville had also entered the common room, and was, to Hermione's surprise, surrounded by a group of sixth- and sevenyears who were talking excitedly to him and every once in a while gave him a friendly pat on the back. She didn't have time to give more thought to that, as she had just spotted Fred and George. They were soaking from head to toe and their faces were a glowing red. Wide, identical grins were on their faces and they were each carrying a glass-jar with a single, perfectly rounded snowball. Fred must've seen Hermione eyeing the jars suspiciously, because he addressed her.

"Don't worry, they're not for you."

Hermione gave a silent sigh of relief. She'd been hassled more than once by the Weasley brothers for choosing not to participate in the snowball fight.

"Then who are they for, if I may ask?"

Fred's grin grew, if possible, even wider.

"Malfoy," he said. "Thought we'd give him a good face-rubbing at the end of the year."

Hermione couldn't help but smile. If anyone would enjoy seeing Malfoy get that godawful smirk wiped off his face with a snowball, it was her. "And how exactly are you planning on preserving two snowballs for more than six months? I doubt this weather will hold that long."

Fred tutted at her. "Ah, Hermione, for someone so clever, your mind works awfully slow at times. It's a simple frost-preservation charm. Reckoned you'd know it."

She was about to reply when a voice right next to her claimed her attention.

"Hi, Hermione!"

She turned to see Ginny standing next to her, smiling brightly. Hermione smiled back.

"Hi, Ginny. Did you have fun?"

Ginny made what was probably supposed to be a displeased face, but Hermione could tell that it was only half-hearted. "Oh, it would've been fun unless... or rather, it was fun until my darling brothers decided to gang up on me and bury me in the snow. They would probably have been rather successful with their mission if it weren't for..."

She trailed off, and Hermione raised an eyebrow. "If it weren't for what?" she asked.

Ginny shrugged. "Well, Harry came and threw a snowball in Ron's head and told him to pick on someone his own size." Clearly, Ginny did her best to say this as if it were nothing, but the slight increase of red on her cheeks was enough to give her away. Hermione smiled ever so slightly to herself as she listened to the rest of the story.

"And, of course, Ron took his advice and they began a Snowball Duel, which was the start of the Post-Blizzard Cup, which pretty much everyone took part in." At this, Ginny grinned. "And that, was fun."

Hermione was about to ask what had been so fun about it, but she got the answer before she could get the question out.

"Oh yes, it's always entertaining to see a bunch of Slytherin passers-by have snowballs smashed into their ugly faces."

Hermione didn't really have to turn to see who had spoken, but she did anyway, and found herself meeting Ron's glowing face. He had somehow managed to seat himself next to her on the couch without her noticing it. When she looked into his eyes, which were glittering with amusement, her stomach churned.

He was so annoyingly cute. His hair was on end and slightly damp, and his ears were bright red from being exposed to the cold. She couldn't see if he was actually smiling or not, seeing as his scarf was wrapped all the way up to his nose, but his eyes were often eloquent enough when it came to expressing emotions. Ah, yes, those eyes... Somehow she felt they constantly mocked her, with their twinkling and sparkling and ability to express and disarm. How they managed to, at the same time, express as much mischief as they did profundity was beyond her, but she knew that she would be perfectly content spending an hour or two just looking into those eyes and studying their every motion, read every feeling and every thought they confessed to her...

Hermione cringed slightly as her thoughts started skipping down Cheesy Alley.

She managed to compose herself enough to sound perfectly casual as she spoke to him.

"Had fun, did you, Ron?"

Now he drew his chin up and pushed down the scarf, revealing the whole of his face to her. Indeed, he was smiling. Or, more like grinning madly.

"Well, that depends," he said, looking more and more like a crazy scientist.

"On what?" Hermione said, knowing he wanted her to ask.

Ron looked like he was about to give her an early birthday present. He raised his eyes to the ceiling, adopting a mock-innocent expression.

"Well, it depends on if you call a just-kicked-in-the-arse Malfoy lying facedown in a pile of snow entertaining or not."

Hermione gasped. "Oh Ron, you didn't!" she shrieked, trying to sound shocked, but not being able to contain her laughter at the mental image.

Ron was laughing too, obviously revelling in the memory. "Oh, I did. Enjoyed every second of it, too. Malfoy-on-his-knees-with-his-arse-in-the-air is right up there with Malfoy-the-bouncing-ferret."

They were sent into another fit of laughter at that memory. When they finally managed to compose themselves a little, Ron turned to her.

"Of course," he started, "The all-time favourite, the truly unbeatable will forever be Malfoy-getting-whacked-over-the-head-by-a-girl." He grinned devilishly. "Never did thank you properly for that, did I? One of the happiest moments of my life, I tell you."

Hermione felt herself blush. She knew that Ron was as good as willing to canonize her for that particular act, but she herself had always been a bit ashamed of it. It wasn't like her to lose her temper so completely (well at least not with anybody else than Ron) and she didn't intend on doing it again anytime soon.

"I heard you had a competition of some sort," she said, wishing to change the subject.

"Ah, yes," Ron said, rubbing his hands together. "I'm telling you, you should've been there. It was priceless. There were plenty of admirable performances by our fellow Gryffindors, some even outshining my ridiculing Malfoy. Hard as it may be to believe."

"Yes, who could possibly beat you when it comes to making people look stupid?" Hermione said sarcastically. It was a rhetorical question, but Ron still gave an answer.

"Neville, as a matter of fact," he said.

Hermione was truly surprised. "What did he do?" she asked.

Ron grinned. "Beat five Slytherins in Snowball Duels. You wouldn't imagine it, but he's like a sharpshooter when it comes to hauling snowballs. Didn't miss a single one." Ron was visibly impressed and didn't even try to hide his new-found respect for Neville. Hermione remembered the sixth- and sevenyears surrounding Neville earlier, and understood that he was the object of many people's admiration at the moment.

"So, what've you been up to while the rest of us were making Slytherins look foolish?" Ron asked her, leaning back against the armrest of the couch.

"Well, seeing as I had some time to myself I decided to catch up on a bit of..."

"Hermione," Ron interrupted her, "if you say 'homework', I swear I'll... well, I don't know, but it'll definitely be some ugly act of frustration."

"Oh, no need to get your panties in a twist, Ron. I wasn't doing homework."

Ron feigned a shocked face. "What?! Are you telling me you found something to do that didn't involve a book?"

"I never said it didn't involve a book," Hermione answered simply.

"Oh, thank God," Ron said with a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart. "For a moment there I felt the world as I know it shaking in its very foundations. So, what've you been reading?"

Hermione suddenly felt rather reluctant to tell him. It was one thing to be laughed at by Ron for referring to 1000-page spell books as light reading, but she feared that confessing to reading "Romeo and Juliet" in her spare time would open the doors to a completely new kind of mockery from him, and she wasn't sure if she was willing to go there.

She finally settled on only serving him portions of the truth. "Well, it's actually a play, written by a Muggle in the 16th century. You wouldn't have heard of it." That ought to put out his interest.

"Really? You're reading a play? What kind of play?" Damn. She should've understood he wouldn't let it drop that easily.

Hermione felt her face flush. "None that would interest you," she mumbled, trying to discreetly slip the book into her open book-bag. But Ron saw what she was doing and in a flash he had leaned over and grabbed the book from her hand. She tried to take it back, but he had already gotten up and was studying the cover.

"Romeo and Juliet," he read out loud. "Wow, seems fascinating," he added sarcastically as he began flipping through the pages. He turned to her, surprised.

"It really is a play!"

"Of course it's a play," she snapped at him. "Did you think I was lying?" She didn't even bother getting up and trying to take the book back, the damage was already done. So instead she sat back with her arms crossed, glaring at her friend.

"Hermione's reading Romeo and Juliet?"

Oh great. Hermione saw Harry come up to Ron and peer over his shoulder. Ron turned to him.

"Yeah. You know about it?"

"Sure. It's one of the most famous Muggle love stories of all time." He turned to Hermione grinning, and with a wicked glint in his eyes that she could have done without. "Thirsty for a bit of romance, were you?"

Hermione felt her face grow even redder. "For your information," she spat, "I was reading it because I wanted to study the, uh... the structure of the language, and the portrayal of the social differences between men and women in 16th century England." She felt rather pleased with this explanation, which she didn't really feel was a lie, more like... a partial untruth. But she could soon see that neither Ron nor Harry had believed her words. Harry was still grinning at her, and Ron looked up at her from the book which was open in his hands, smiling rather curiously.

"Didn't figure you for being into soppy romance stories," he said. "What happened, did the ice cold logic of the textbooks suddenly lose its beauty?"

Hermione went from embarrassed to enraged in a split second.

"Oh, honestly, Ron!" she burst out, loud enough for a few heads to be turned. "Leave it to you to simplify one of history's greatest literary works to a 'soppy romance story'! Maybe if you someday made the effort to read something besides a comic book without seeing it as a punishment of some sort, you'd be able to appreciate a real work of art! But heaven forbid that that should happen, 'cause then you wouldn't be able to be sarcastic and... and belittling about everything and everybody anymore!"

An annoyed little crinkle appeared between Ron's eyebrows, and his cheeks flushed slightly. "Well, excuse me, if I'm not as sophisticated as you are, but if I would have to read boring plays which were written by some lovesick bloke more than 400 years ago to be considered clever and interesting, then I'd bloody well rather be looked at as stupid!"

"Oh, please," Hermione retorted. "You're probably just afraid that you wouldn't understand all of the words." She felt a bit mean for saying that, especially when she saw the slightly hurt look on his face, but she quickly shrugged it off, remembering that in many of their fights he hadn't hesitated to say cruel things to her.

"Maybe I wouldn't," he said, "but it's not as if they're any useful words anyway. I think I'll manage to survive in the world even if I choose to say 'Hello' when I meet people instead of something stupid like 'I humbly greet you, fellow citizen'."

"Like there's nothing in between," she said with a snort. "But then, you were always quite good with the exaggerations."

Ron opened his mouth to shoot something back at her, but Harry spoke before he got anything out.

"Come on, knock it off," he said, mildly irritated. "Let's go down to dinner." With one, final glare at Hermione, Ron threw the book on the couch and walked with Harry to the portrait hole. Hermione followed and she was joined by Ginny on her way out.

"So, what was it about this time?" Ginny asked with a small smile when they started the walk towards the Great Hall.

Hermione gave a frustrated sigh. "Oh, Ginny, I know I shouldn't be saying bad things about Ron to you, but honestly! Sometimes he can be such a pain!"

Ginny laughed. "I know," she said. "And, think of me. I have to live with him, even during the holidays."

Hermione gave a laugh as well. "I do feel sorry for you," she said.

Ginny shrugged. "Oh well. There's nothing to be done about it, seeing as we share the same parents and all."

They both laughed and continued their talk all the way to the Great Hall. When there, they seated themselves by Ron and Harry. Ron narrowed his eyes at Hermione as she sat down across from him, but he didn't say anything. Instead he looked up and down the table, frowning in confusion.

"Hey, where's the food?" he said, and Hermione was inwardly amused by the worry which lined his voice. The absence of dinner on the table was apparently enough to make him forget all about their argument.

Harry nodded towards the table where the teachers were seated.

"I think he's gonna say something first," he said. Hermione now saw that Dumbledore was standing, peering at the noisy mass of students through his glasses. He was clearly waiting them out, and indeed: one by one the students realised that there was a reason to why dinner hadn't been served yet, and fell silent. Dumbledore nodded and smiled.

"Very good," he said, his eyes glinting. "I wanted to see how long it would take for your grumbling stomachs to realise that all was not in order, and considering how relatively quickly you grew quiet, I understand you are all rather hungry."

As if on cue, a loud grumbling echoed through the hall, and all heads turned to see whose stomach was behind the resounding declaration of hunger.

Hagrid was patting his enormous belly, rather fondly at that, and smiling apologetically.

"Haven't had a thing to eat since lunch," he excused himself.

Some scattered laughing was heard, and then everyone's attention was turned back to Dumbledore.

"I know all of you are anxious to begin eating," he said, "but I assure you this will only take a minute. I'm certain none of you have managed to avoid noticing that we have been rewarded with this beautiful, white winter weather all of a sudden. And I'm also rather certain that some of you have been making the most of it."

He gave the Gryffindor table a quick glance and an almost imperceptible smile, and Hermione was pretty sure he knew all about the highly eventful Post-Blizzard Cup.

"I too am a big fan of lovely winter weather, like the kind which is gracing us with its presence at this very moment. And I am determined to make sure that as much fun as possible is had while this blessed weather lasts. I hereby proclaim all the lessons of tomorrow, Thursday, and the day after that, Friday, cancelled. No studying is allowed in any of the houses, not by anyone-" here Hermione could have sworn he looked at her. "-and you are all ordered to go out in the snow and have a terrific time."

This was met by thunderous applause and cheering from the students. Fred and George Weasley went as far as standing up to show their appreciation of the headmaster's words. But Professor McGonnagall's slightly disapproving expression did not go unnoticed by Hermione. She was then poked in the arm by Ron, and turned to him. His grin was so wide she was afraid his mouth would crack in the corners.

"Hear that?" he said, positively ecstatic. "No studying! If we study tomorrow, we'll be breaking the rules! Don't you just love that?"

She was about to respond sarcastically to his words, but Dumbledore was motioning to them to settle down. "My announcements do not end there," he said, and Hermione thought he looked very much like he was about to give them a belated Christmas present. "I have one more thing to say, and I hope it will please you as much as the last one. I had a little chat with the merpeople of the lake this morning, and I discussed with them whether or not they would mind if we let a part of the lake freeze, and they said they wouldn't. It's just a small part of course, but large enough for an ice-skating rink to be set up."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She clasped her hands together under her chin and turned to Ron, knowing she wore a ridiculously gleeful expression on her face. He looked at her, questioning.

"An ice-skating rink!" she said happily. He did nothing but stare back at her, confused. "Oh, right, you wouldn't know," she said and turned to Harry instead. He looked just as excited as she felt. "Ice-skating!" she said to him, and he nodded, grinning widely.

Dumbledore spoke again, and they turned to him. "Now, I know that many of you have probably never heard of ice-skating, but I trust you have Muggle-born friends who are more than willing to tell you all about this interesting and, most of all, fun activity." Hermione looked over at the Slytherins, pleased to see their annoyed faces. She was pretty certain neither of them had any Muggle-born friends who could inform them about ice-skating.

Having made all of his announcements, Dumbledore wished them all an enjoyable dinner before sitting down. Moments later, dozens of dishes filled with all sorts of delicious food appeared on the table. Ron was the first to fill his plate, but while he ate, he started questioning Hermione and Harry about this curious Muggle-activity. Hermione jumped, as always, at the chance of introducing and explaining something new to someone.

"It's actually rather simple. All you need is a pair of ice-skates, which are like boots with vertical strips of metal running under them, one for each boot. Then all you have to do is keep your balance on the skates and you can go around and around on the ice. It's rather wonderful."

Ron wrinkled his nose, obviously not impressed. "Sounds sort of stupid," he said.

"It most certainly is not!" Hermione cried, a little too loud, desperate to defend her favourite outdoor activity. "It's a lot of fun, and... and you can twirl, and it can be really beautiful, and..."

"Um, Hermione," Harry interrupted her, "I don't think that's the way to go about promoting ice-skating to Ron." He turned to his friend. "See, it's not only a girl-thing, where you twirl around on the ice looking daft. It's just as much a guy-thing."

"Really?" Ron asked, but he seemed sceptical.

"Oh, definitely," Dean Thomas said, joining in from a bit down the table. "You ever heard of ice hockey?"

"No, never," Ron said, but seemed a bit more interested, now that there were two boys campaigning for the sport. Harry and Dean then proceeded in telling Ron all about the joys of ice hockey, and he grew more and more fascinated. Hermione, who had always considered ice hockey to be no more than another one of the countless, testosterone-driven, mindless sports that male Muggles found entertaining, turned instead to Ginny, who was clearly enthralled by Hermione's poetic description of ice skating.

"Pirouettes?" she breathed. "Really?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course, it takes some practice before you can manage something like that. But there are some people, called figure-skaters, who are so good at doing pirouettes that they're allowed to compete in World Championships."

"Ooooh," Ginny said. "That must be wonderful to watch!"

"Oh, it is," Hermione said. "But the competitions I like best are the ones where they compete in couples, a man and a woman together. They do the most wonderful dance moves on the ice, all the while holding on to one another."

This was almost too much for Ginny to take. "Oh, how absolutely lovely!" she said with a sigh, and Hermione was for a moment sure she'd melt into a little puddle on the floor.

"Oh, I can't wait 'til tomorrow!" Ginny said. "It's going to be just... just... wonderful!"

After dinner was finished, the Gryffindors went in gathered troop back to the common room. Everybody had now received a more or less detailed description of ice skating, and the room was filled with excited voices. Those who had never gone ice skating before seemed keen to try it out, and those who had were eager to try it again.

Despite the rather early hour, Hermione decided to go to bed. She was as excited as the rest of them, maybe even more, and wanted tomorrow to arrive quickly. As she started making her way up the stairs, she cast a glance over her shoulder and stopped when she caught sight of Ron and Harry talking to a group of fourthyear girls. Something about it vexed her greatly. Maybe it was the giggling girls tossing their hair about as if they were shooing flies away, and batting their eyelashes a little more than necessary. Or maybe it was the fact that both boys seemed to enjoy the attention a great deal. Ron was at the moment telling them a story involving, if she interpreted the gestures correctly, big birds and someone with spectacles. Most likely it was an account of some stupid prank he and the twins had pulled on Percy sometime.

She gave a little involuntary sigh as she started ascending the steps again. Once more that thought popped into her head: nobody would ever look at her in that special way, or go out of their way to make her feel exceptional, or try to impress her by telling exaggerated versions of stories which involved themselves doing heroic deeds...

She felt herself grow increasingly frustrated. Why did it bother her that much? It wasn't as if Ron never told her crazy stories to make her laugh, and he didn't always snap at her or make sarcastic remarks about her ambitions when it came to schoolwork. Every now and then he did say something nice to her.

But... It was sort of included in his duties as best friend. If he wasn't nice to her sometimes, then he would be doing a pretty lousy job, and would most certainly get sacked. She had long ago admitted to herself, although reluctantly, that she wouldn't mind, no in fact she'd rather like it, if he some time decided to look into her eyes and say something truly beautiful about what a wonderful person he thought she was, and maybe take her hands in his and give her one of those amazing smiles, perhaps even kiss her on the forehead, or on the temple, or on the cheek...

In a strictly friendly manner of course, she told herself quickly, but still felt her face flush. It didn't matter that she was all alone in the dormitory and no one could hear what she was thinking. Thoughts like that were just a bit too scary.

As she crept into her warm bed, she decided to shake all disturbing thoughts of Ron Weasley off her, but it proved to be harder than she had thought, and it was long before she finally drifted off to sleep.

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A/N: End of part one. I'm aware of the fact that it was rather uneventful, but I felt I had to cut it somewhere, or I could've gone on forever.