Series: Minor Arcana. Sequel to "Declaro" (rating R). You really need to read that first. Find it, and previous parts, under "Isolde" @ ff.net and skyehawke.com.

Rating: This section PG-13. (Story R overall.)

Pairings: This chapter – elements of SS/DM, HP/DM, SS/HP, RW/HG.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling.

Archiving: Only where I've agreed.

Feedback/Reviews: Definitely – especially to tell me what works and what doesn't.

Dedication: to ummatti/xikum, who has reviewed or given feedback on every chapter of this series thus far, and was nice enough to say she was impatient for more

Pervinco IV: (a) Knight of Pentacles

The 7th year common room was not empty, although the clock above the mantle said Very Late.

"Harry," Hermione said in a small voice. Ron left the room in a hurry without looking up, spurring a chorus of how worried they were and where had he been. Harry apologised and bore the fuss. Tired students began to trickle out, but Hermione just waited.

"We were about to summon Professor McGonagall."

"I'm sorry Hermione, it was. . ."

"As Head Girl I should have reported you missing right away," she said sharply, but he knew she was close to tears.

"I really am sorry," and he really was. He took one of the lounges.

"Were you with him?"

"Um. It depends who you mean." She sat down beside him. "Hermione," he said. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Why don't you tell me?"

He did. But, much to her dismay and astonishment, he insisted they go to her room, where he spelled the door shut and set up a wall of silence with a combination of spells she didn't even know was possible.

* * *

When the sun came up through the east windows Harry and Hermione were lying in a pile on the floor laughing. Hermione was trying to get him to say it again – "Go on, really. . ."

"Hermione," Harry said, trying to be annoyed. "You don't have to make it sound so stupid."

"I know at least three versions of a tickling hex, Harry Potter."

"Fine." She stifled a laugh in anticipation. "I came all over Snape's hand." She collapsed back on the floor, flicking the papers spread around them into a new disorder. "If you're quite finished," Harry said. "I thought we were going to write these bloody letters."

"Harry," she said, drawing herself up against the base of her bed. "You have to stop this. I mean, the declaration makes sense but. . . don't you think you're letting them confuse you."

"Confuse me?"

"Well, think about it. They're both powerful, we don't really know how powerful, and now – out of nowhere – you're suddenly all, well, interested in them. It's just suspicious. I mean have you ever thought about a boy, or a man, like that before? Let alone. . . doing things like that."

"You think it's a spell?"

"I don't know. But it's not normal." She gathered the papers back into a pile. "Obviously."

"Why would Snape. . ?"

"I don't know that either. But we do know he'd be prepared to put you in a lot of humiliating positions in the course of, you know, doing what he does."

"I suppose so," Harry agreed, but now the warm comfort of sharing all this with someone seemed a bit hollow. He'd always relied on Hermione for this kind of sense, but none of what she said quite meshed with what he knew, or what he felt.

She seemed to catch his shift in mood. "Maybe I don't understand, Harry. But you've got to get some more control over it. You can't keep being," she gestured vaguely, "buffeted around."

Which was true enough. He was distracted and unhappy, and maybe making a fool of Harry Potter was a more than acceptable side effect of whatever Snape and Malfoy were doing.

She shoved a paper in his direction, "Now let's finish."

He looked at it. "I can't say that." Hermione groaned in frustration. "I can't. What if she's been reading about me for years and dreaming about this fantasy me and I just crush her?"

His friend pulled her brown cascade of hair back out of her face again with a sigh. "What if she just agreed because her parents insisted on it? Are you really going to lead Ginny on."

"You don't know that." They'd been through all of this already. "Maybe it can't hurt to meet them. Say it in person. It's not like I've dozens, like. . . like Draco has."

"Harry," Hermione said sternly. "He's manipulating you – you don't have to feel sorry for him."

Harry nodded, though he wasn't positive at what. "Let's finish yours," he ventured.

* * *

There were steps behind him along the corridor.

"Harry", Draco said at his shoulder, one hand on his arm.

Harry stepped out of his grasp. "What is it Malfoy?"

With a puzzled look Draco said, "I sent you a note."

"I don't have to come running because you summon me." Harry took an even more obvious step away. "In fact. . . I'm sick of you both manipulating me."

"Both," the boy replied flatly.

Harry crossed his arms and glared; he pointedly noticed the blue ring on Draco's left hand.

Draco made as if to cover it with his right hand, and then didn't. "I wanted to congratulate you, on accepting Snape," he began. "It was in the Prophet his morning." When Harry didn't reply he added "of course".

Harry wanted to walk away, but he needed to hear it, to say it: "You're in love with him."

Draco flinched.

"Which I might understand," Harry continued. "But stop drawing me into whatever game this is. Leave me alone." He moved off down the hall, intending to clearly project that he had better places to be.

Draco couldn't stop himself looking to see who might be around, but he did follow Harry. "I wasn't just playing with you. I needed your help."

Harry just nodded as he walked, because if he'd said anything he would have screamed. When he reached the stairs to the Headmaster's office without replying, Draco stopped and watched him walk away.

* * *

Outside Dumbledore's office, Harry waited for Ron, who'd gone via the infirmary.

After numerous failed attempts to finalise Hermione's declarations they'd taken down the wards, only to find Ron setting up a counterspell to break through them. Ron had been livid. He'd loudly suggested Harry was cheating with his girlfriend, and it was probably best for everyone that Hermione had hexed him mute half way through his first sentence to her.

Harry waited nervously.

McGonagall, Snape and Sinistra came up the stairway, a grim trio.

"Are you waiting out here for a reason, Harry?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Ron," he said shortly, not meeting Snape's gaze.

"Well I think you can go in now," she said, evidently taken aback.

"Lemon twist," Snape said to the gargoyle, with apparent resentment. Harry followed him in.

Ron and Hermione were already there, as was Professor Sprout. Hermione had been crying. Ron looked pale and sat with clenched fists, focusing on Dumbledore's desk.

"Come in, come in," Dumbledore said. They arranged themselves quietly. "We have all four Heads of house here, as is customary for a case that may involve expulsion."

Hermione made a noise in her throat. "Headmaster," Harry began, "I can't see how what Hermione did. . ."

"Perhaps we shall begin with Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, "to allay her friends' fears. Hermione, why don't you tell us what happened this morning."

She took a shaky breath. "Harry and I were talking after he, um, returned from the party," she threw a glance at Snape, who didn't respond at all, but Harry knew at least Dumbledore and McGonagall had noticed. "We put wards up, so as not to be interrupted," here she glanced at Harry, and for once he could see the significance of knowing how not to do that.

"I tried to cast the Rite spell that would accept someone, and it wouldn't work." Her confusion was evident. "So I tried it for someone else, and it did work, so I went back to the first one. . ."

"Ms Granger," Snape interrupted, "perhaps under the circumstances, things would be clearer if you used names." She looked nervously at the Headmaster, who nodded.

"Professor Snape," she said. There was a tense pause. "I tried to accept Professor Snape's declaration," Ron dropped his head, and although he hadn't said a word it was very expressive, "and it wouldn't work. Then I tried to accept Ron, and that worked," she looked at Ron, who hadn't moved. "So I tried other versions for the Professor, and nothing worked." She looked up to meet Snape's gaze and blushed intensely. "So then I tried to accept Justin's, just to see, and that wouldn't work either. So, Harry and I did a few detection spells. . ." she trailed off.

"And there's some kind of bond," Harry said. "So she can't cast spells."

"Some spells," Hermione corrected him in a worried voice. "My class work has been fine."

Dumbledore looked at her patiently, and Hermione gripped her own wrists tightly and said, "And then Ron was yelling and I hexed him, and now I can't reverse it."

There were a few cautious responses from the staff. Sprout said "Oh dear", and McGonagall made a disapproving clucking sound.

"I know it's unacceptable behaviour for a Head Girl, and of course I expect to be," her voice hitched, "dismissed. But please don't expel me. Hogwarts, my education, it's everything to me."

Sinistra clearly couldn't contain herself any longer. "Do we have the girl's wand?" Hermione handed her wand to the Astronomy Professor, who began shuffling through the prior spells still in effect.

"Deletrius," Professor Sprout offered.

"It should work," Sinistra agreed, still examining the wand, "but it's been tried. The first evident difficulty was with the spell to acknowledge a declaration?"

Hermione nodded.

"So what went wrong?" Sinistra said to herself.

Snape made a small amused noise and raised an eyebrow towards McGonagall. Harry supposed Professor Sinistra did rather seem to be enjoying herself.

"I think Ron used a special version of the spell," Harry said when Hermione didn't offer it. The expressions around him suggested that "special" was a synonym for "dangerously stupid".

"I assume you can hear perfectly well, Mr Weasley," Snape said, and Ron managed to communicate added distress without looking at any of them. "Which 'special version'?"

"I might know," Hermione said, "more or less." Snape scowled at Ron's lack of response but gestured for her to continue. She gave a brief but careful account of the spell, occasionally glancing at Ron, who never once attempted to contribute.

"Habeo in animo?" McGonagall said when Hermione reached that part. "Are you sure?" Hermione nodded, biting her lip. "Not animus or anima?" No. "And then?"

"Another cut," the girl said, "this way" – she ran a finger from the tip of her longest right finger, down to her wrist.

"Where would the boy have found that spell as a blood magic bond?" Sinistra asked.

Snape got to his feet, with a cold eye on Ron. "Excuse me," he said, and left the room. If anything, Ron looked even more upset.

McGonagall got up and walked to the window, giving Hermione a stern look. "To think it would happen in Gryffindor. What on earth were you thinking Miss Granger? You surely know spells involving the caster's blood are as a rule binding spells."

"Several versions of declaro included cutting," the girl protested, "and I recognized the beginning. . . You must be so disappointed."

Sinistra drummed her fingers contemplatively. "It wouldn't work," she said abruptly. "Apart from activating the declaration; it wouldn't create a more serious bond. Even if you were a witness" – Hermione nodded – "it wouldn't activate anything even mildly restrictive unless you participated."

Hermione blushed and looked away. "Well," she said softly, "I kissed him."

"Before, during or after," Snape said abruptly, re-entering the room. He placed a large book, open, on the desk. Sinistra leant over it. Ron ran his hands through his hair and looked up into Snape's angry glare. His eyes on Ron, Snape repeated "Before, during or after, Ms Granger?"

"During," Hermione said. "Before the last line."

"Did you have sex with him? Did you ingest or touch his blood," Snape asked angrily.

"Really, Professor Snape," McGonagall said, "there's no call. . ."

"No," Hermione said. "Well definitely no to. . . ingesting. I don't think any blood touched me."

"And sex? Don't look at me like that Professor McGonagall, we obviously need to know."

"No," Hermione replied after a pause, looking fixedly at Dumbledore's desk, "not then." Nobody commented.

"Surely this book isn't available in our library," Sinistra said, turning another page.

"The boy stole it from my rooms," Snape said. "I've been looking into the Rite and he must have removed it during one of the many days recently when I've been forced to be preoccupied by the nonsense resulting from the decision to allow. . ."

"Now now, Professor, please," Dumbledore said mildly. "It's a serious situation, but we know that Mr Weasley meant no harm, and it has had most unfortunate consequences for him."

"What we all know," Snape snapped, "is that he invoked a blood bond with an unknowing participant without making any effort to ascertain its effects – assuming of course that he didn't know them in advance. I grant you the boy's silence is actually a bonus in most respects, but if he were in Slytherin we would not be sitting here discussing how unfortunate this all is for him."

"Ron would never hurt Hermione," Harry said angrily, getting to his feet. Snape met him right in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"Because he 'loves' her, Mr Potter?"

"Yes!"

"And exactly what protection from causing harm does that provide in your adolescent fantasies?"

"You bastard."

"One hundred points from Gryffindor."

"Headmaster!" McGonagall exclaimed.

"I will let the penalty stand." Harry turned an appalled expression towards Dumbledore. "I can't fairly find the points an excessive penalty for Mr Weasley's misjudgement, Miss Granger's negligence, and Mr Potter's. . . temper. If we could all sit down." Harry bit the inside of his mouth to keep from saying what he thought, and glared at Snape's profile.

"I really can't reverse the spell, Headmaster," Hermione said quietly.

"I believe you, my dear," Dumbledore replied. "Professor Snape?"

"I suspect that will be because Mr Weasley does not want the spell reversed. Ms Granger's magic may be restricted by what he wants. She could accept him, but no one else. If this is the case she cannot make him speak when he fears having to admit what he has done." Snape stood over Ron and sneered down at him. "And I thought he was a Gryffindor, and a Weasley."

Ron raised swollen eyes to Snape, who nodded at Hermione. She took her wand and, with a gesture, said hesitantly "Finite Incantatum."

Ron looked at her, Snape, Dumbledore. "I didn't know it would do anything like this," he said. "I thought it was just another version. . ."

Snape remained standing over him. "But you knew it was meant to be stronger, more certain."

Ron nodded. "But I didn't think that was a bad thing." He looked at Hermione. "Hermione, I'm so sorry."

She didn't meet his eyes and, after a few minutes said, "How can I find out what it means?"

"We'll find the parameters, Hermione, don't worry," McGonagall said, sympathetic again. "And these things always fade with time and are easier to combat when you know they're there."

But Sinistra was glaring at Ron almost as much as Snape. "Headmaster," she said. "I am not at all satisfied Mr Weasley's punishment is sufficient – only thirty or so points from his house?"

There was an extended silence, into which Dumbledore said, "I think perhaps Hermione and Harry might leave us for the present." Harry went to protest and the Headmaster gave him a fond look – "Harry, we understand how you feel. But we need to have this conversation privately."

Harry did look at Ron, but there was really no arguing with Dumbledore when he used that genial tone. Ron met his eyes for what felt like the first time in months.

"Thanks Harry," he said, "but I think you'd better go."

They wouldn't expel Ron, surely. He hadn't done any real harm, had he? Had he? Hermione was clearly in shock. Harry took her arm as they left and she grasped his hand tightly. As the door closed he watched Ron take his seat in silence. Hermione walked straight to the stairs without looking back.

* * *

When Ron returned, the common room was empty except for Harry, who was sure that's what he would want. Of course, he probably wanted to see a Hermione who forgave him more than anything, but Hermione had made it quite clear she didn't want to see Ron Weasley right now.

Ron looked around slowly and then went straight to their room, but he didn't close the door. Harry waited in the doorway, watching Ron, who stood in the middle of the room as if lost.

"Ron?" Without replying, Ron dragged the trunk out from under his bed and doggedly began to pack, beginning with the chest beside his bed.

"Ron?" Harry tried again, in a more urgent tone. "They didn't – I'm sure it's a mistake – I'll talk to Dumbledore – everyone knows you would never. . ."

Ron stopped with a bright orange T-shirt in his hand. "But I did. I didn't mean to restrict her magic or make her do what I want, but I knew it was stronger, and I didn't. . . think to check everything that meant. I just," he sat down on the bed, "wanted it. Wanted her."

"Mione will understand," Harry said, almost desperately, hoping it was true.

"Maybe."

Harry joined him on the bed. "They're. . . they're really sending you away?"

"Sort of."

"Ron, please, tell me." He'd never seen Ron so unhappy – not furious, or scowling, Ron did those things, but desperately unhappy. "I know we've been distant, and I'm sorry. . ."

"It's my fault, Harry," Ron said calmly. "Or, mostly – you do have appalling taste in blokes."

Harry smiled sadly. "Yeah." They sat there. "Tell me, Ron."

"The points from Gryffindor; I have to tell my parents in person when they've been called in," Ron paused; "and I'm moving to the dungeons."

"They're sending you to Slytherin!?"

"No. Worse. I'm Snape's lab slave until the end of term." Harry couldn't even ask if he'd heard correctly, his mind simply wouldn't have invented that. "Kind of permanent detention, but also so he has time to work on the. . . on what I did to Hermione. . . and on things like it."

"Oh Ron."

"I hate it that they're kicking me out of Gryffindor, and that everyone will know. But it's not unfair."

"No it's not, it's ridiculous. It's exile – and why him, what's it got to do with him?"

"Snape's a vicious bastard and a total wanker. Sorry." Harry smiled and shrugged. "But, he's been tutoring me – duelling, classes, everything – so I'd have a better chance with Hermione."

Harry wasn't sure he'd ever been more shocked by anything. Being a wizard, being a parselmouth, Sirius, the tournament – this seemed just as astonishing: Snape helping Ron? "He's not exactly nice about it, he likes humiliating me, but he's doing it. And I stole from him," Ron continued. "And embarrassed him. I think he feels responsible. God, I'm such an arse."

Ron started packing again and Harry sat there, stunned. "You could help you know," Ron said with a tentative smile. "I've got to get my gear down to the Master's quarters before dinner."

Harry went to the wardrobe, where he turned and ventured a grin. "You're an idiot, Ron."

"Shut up and help me pack, Harry."