Chapter 3
He wanted to scream. He wanted to yell "NO!!!!!" He wanted to grab Hermione by the hand and make a break for it. He mainly wanted to punch Ron in the face.
"Con-congratulations," is what came out instead. After all, Ron was his best mate right? Hermione was his friend first and foremost. He had to keep thinking that to keep his composure. "How, how unexpected."
Hermione and Ron slid a quick glance at each other then gaped at Harry. Numbly he walked forward, his hand outstretched waiting for Ron's.
"Th-thanks H-Harry," Ron stammered, "I must admit I was a bit worried about how you were going to take it."
"Well, I was surprised, but of course I'm happy for you!" Harry lied.
Hermione walked up with an uneasy smile gracing her lips. She hesitantly wrapped her arms around Harry. She had the most unsettling feeling that he wasn't okay, and that his feelings for her were still ongoing. After a brief embrace, he pulled back. He looked at her, his heart ripped out of his chest. How could she? HE loved her! He was the one she was supposed to marry, not Ron! How'd this happen anyway? Just how long has this been going on? His eyes trailed away from Hermione and over to Ron. Suddenly, another emotion erupted within him: blood-boiling rage. That bastard! That bloody bastard stole his girl! Now he didn't want to punch Ron in the face, he wanted to grab his wand and blow him to bits.
"If you would excuse me, I need to catch Professor McGonagall for my recommendation. I've only til tomorrow to get them in to Dumbledore."
"Oh," Hermione squeaked surprised, but relieved, "of course Harry."
"Right, I'll catch you two later then?"
"Course." Ron said coolly. "We'll do dinner then."
"Brilliant." Harry managed to say as he stomped out the door.
Hermione let out a deep sigh of relief. She looked over to Ron who still looked a bit uptight.
"Well?"
"He was just shocked. That's all really." Ron said reassuringly.
"You think?" Hermione sulked. She wasn't as sure. "He seemed, I dunno, .... maybe I'm looking into it too much."
"Exactly love," Ron put his arms around her, "you are, as usual."
Hermione threw an elbow into his rib cage.
"Ooof!" He chuckled, "come on, how would you've reacted? I mean, he had no idea until just now."
"I suppose you're right . . . "
"Hermione, don't worry, it'll work out. He'll come around, he's going to be my best man, you wait and see. Now, let's find your quarters shall we?"
"Mm mmf," Hermione muffled in agreement while biting her nail.
They set out for Hermione's room. It felt strange walking through the empty school. They were no longer students and felt strangely out of place. The air around them started to have a distinct chill to it as they made their way down to the dungeons. Condensation glistened of the cold gray stones that made up the walls and floor. Sporadic floating torches cast an eerie glow on the moisture. Their footsteps echoed in the long narrow passageway. The air seemed so thick that it was almost hard to breathe.
"I don't understand why you couldn't have a room in one of the towers! The dungeons give me the creeps, besides, it's the dungeons, no one in their right mind would want to live down 'ere"
Hermione gave him a sideways glance. "Ron," she rolled her eyes, "the potions department has always been in the dungeons, including teachers quarters. Why would I want to be in a tower so far away from my work? Ah, here we are."
They stopped in front of a portrait of a very small, yet intimidating woman with dark hair and pursed lips. She had the same air about her as did Professor McGonagall, someone not to cross.
"Professor Granger I presume? Welcome. I'd expected you sooner though. Not very punctual are we?" Spoke the painting in a high, arrogant voice. "We'll just have to work on that one won't we? Well, what shall you be using as your password then?"
"Ron, this is Madame Petty, brilliant potions master of her time." Hermione said unwavered. "My pass word will be," her eyes flickered to Ron as she smiled, "eternal bliss."
Ron passed a crooked smile to Hermione. They walked into the room as the portrait swung open. The living space was furnished with lavish mediums in order to make the cold stone room more warm and cozy; a green marble fireplace housed a low crackling fire. A chase lounger and sofa upholstered in green velvet surrounded and elaborately carved ebony coffee table. A quaint dining nook housed a small table for two. A kitchenette adorned in the same green marble as the fireplace stood open to the living area. Adjacent from the portrait hole was the door to the bedroom. The room was of fair size. A queen-sized bed sat in the middle of the far wall flanked on either side by ebony side tables adorned in the same fashion as the coffee table. Ebony candle holders protruding from the wall above the headboard formed sconces to provide adequate reading light. A soft green rug covered the stone floor around the bed and accentuated the green Hogwarts shield embroidered on the white coverlet on the bed. A soft glow came from another doorway to the left of the bed. The bathroom had a large garden tub and separate shower, both made of the same green marble. Big fluffy green towels hung from ebony towel racks both next to the tub and shower. Hermione took another look at the tub and noticed it was big enough for two. She walked over and started running the warm water. She turned to Ron and dropped her clothes to the floor.
"Warm enough for you now?" Hermione smirked as she approached Ron.
"Definitely," Ron whispered as he bent to kiss her.
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Harry started out of Professor McGonagall's office.
"Thanks again Professor," he smiled numbly at her, "I really appreciate the good word."
"Of course Mr. Potter," she smiled, "and get used to calling me Minerva, Harry, we'll be colleagues now."
"I'll work on that." Harry walked off.
He headed down toward the dungeons to Snape's office. His mind was still swimming with the news of Ron and Hermione's engagement. The jealousy and confusion overruled any apprehension that Snape would not give him the recommendation he needed. He made his way down into the dark; the air felt especially cold for some reason. One he reached Snape's office the worry returned to him tenfold. Snape hated him. He'd never give him the recommendation . . . well, willingly at least. Good thing he had an ace up his sleeve.
"P-Professor Snape?" Harry hesitated after he had already knocked on the door. All of the sudden he didn't want to do this anymore.
"What is it Potter?" He snapped back coldly.
"Er, I was wanting to ask you something," Harry cleared his throat, "I've put in for the Dart Arts position and I'd, well, could I get you to write a recommendation for me?"
An evil grin spread across Snape's face. "NO." He said in a most amused manner.