This section – PG13 (series to this point is R) – elements of SS/HP, DM/HP, RW/HG, and perhaps DM/RL.
Notes: I really shouldn't be writing this as I have SO much work to do before I leave, but here is another part of Chapter 7. It probably needs another edit, but I've been reading through the latest reviews here at ff.net and I was really thrilled by some of them. Though I hate to single people out (and my A/Ns are getting a bit over-the-top) special thanks to curious blue, Tirla, Lakoma, and xikum.
Spoilers: Various up to the end of Book IV. No OotP whatsoever.
Archiving: Only where I've agreed.
Feedback/Reviews: Please, it's just plain encouraging. I'm especially grateful to people who give me some direction as to what works and what doesn't.
Pervinco VII (b): Great Expectations
RON:
I roll the box around in my pocket as I go up the stairs.
Snape insists it will work. I wish he would tell her, but I know exactly how he will look at me if I ask him.' Of course, Mr Weasley, if facing your own mistakes is too great a burden.' I could say it's her anger that scares me, but he would only explain, probably in sarcastic detail, why that is also my mistake. I'd like to feed him filleted flubberworm. I'd like to hit him with that hex which makes you do the samba wherever you go. If it was hilarious when Fred did it to Dad, it would be screamingly funny on Snape; if possibly fatal. Or that potion that makes you say whatever you're thinking – how Snape would hate that. Was it Comnia's Urgent Reply? Looked really difficult, though; and, again, probably fatal.
I press in through the Slytherin side of the Hall as people begin sitting down to Sunday lunch. Roast beef. Slicing, pressing, desanguinating and all is hell on your appetite, but roast beef still smells delicious. And there'll be horseradish sauce.
She's walking with Cho Chang, who catches my eye and leans to whisper in Hermione's ear. The look Hermione gives me is alarmed and frustrated. Chang gives me a condescending smile and I'm almost tempted to ask her how she likes her new wand, but I won't take ferret boy's side on anything.
"Hermione, can I talk to you?"
* * *
Hermione came into the Ravenclaw 7th year common room to warm welcomes.
"Hermione!" Cho called from the corner where she always sat, warmed by the fire on one side and lit by the afternoon sunlight on the other.
Morag smiled hello, Mandy and Lisa waved from across the room where they were playing chess, and Terry and Padma made room for her on the lounge.
"So what did Ron Weasley want this time?"
Hermione extended her hand to show the ring, twists of silver set all around with stones.
"Oh I like it," Padma said, bringing Hermione's hand closer to see. "It's different."
"And you accepted it?" Cho said in astonishment.
"I thought you were over him," Terry added.
Hermione pulled her hand back, looking at the ring herself. "Terry, I never said that."
Terry and Padma exchanged a look, which clearly indicated they thought she had.
"I didn't," Hermione protested. "I've been upset, that's all."
"And a ring makes it all better?" Cho said distinctly.
"No!" Hermione blushed a little, she'd been so happy she'd hugged him, but Ron would understand she didn't mean anything by it. "It's a combination of warding stones and spells that disrupt the bond," she continued. "At least Professor Snape thinks so, although he's not positive how to test it."
"Anyway," she added, catching Cho's exasperated expression, "it's not that kind of gift."
"Oh Hermione," Cho sighed. Hermione couldn't help but take a little offence at the implication that she was naïve.
"Ron is still your supplicant, isn't he?" Padma asked, more gently.
"Yes. Oh," Hermione looked down at the ring, running her finger over hematite, garnet, diamond, and so on – a chain of dark then reddish then white stones all around her finger. A spell on each one, Ron had said, rather proudly. A lot of work, she guessed. "Well it doesn't matter," she said finally, running a determined eye over her friends. "Ron knows I haven't made any commitment."
Before anyone could comment there was a rustle of movement at the door, and they turned to see Professor Sinistra come in, smiling in reply to her students' greetings.
"Oh Hermione," Padma said, "we forgot. There's a Ravenclaw seniors meeting now – we didn't hear about it till lunch. Can we have the study session after tea?"
Everyone was shifting around her and Hermione stood a little self-consciously.
"Ms Granger," Professor Sinistra said pleasantly, "Should I ask about re-sorting you into Ravenclaw, so you can just be here all the time?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't know there was a meeting."
"Not at all, Hermione," the Astronomy professor said, putting a hand on her shoulder as they moved together towards the stairs. "It's always a pleasure to have you here."
"Can a student be re-sorted?" Mandy asked, as she and Lisa came over.
"I don't believe so," Sinistra said with a smile.
"Oh let's find out," Lisa exclaimed. "If ever someone was mis-sorted it's Hermione."
"Or maybe Harry Potter," Mandy said with a laugh.
On the way back to her dorm Hermione twisted the ring – malachite, ruby, moonstone – and thought Harry, and Ron, and about Sinistra's bond with her senior students. Professor McGonagall never visited, unless they'd done something terrible, which, Hermione conceded with a private sigh, was often enough in Gryffindor.
* * *
In transfiguration on Monday, the class was trying to discern the correct conjugation for changing a spelled scroll into a ring that also bore that spell. Though Ron was really more interested in drawing little pictures of Snape being mauled by werewolves in his notebooks, it seemed much more difficult than it ought to be. He kept ending up with something that would have made Hermione laugh, if she wasn't sitting on the other side of Harry.
A subtle pop heralded the appearance of a house elf. It had a series of colourful handkerchiefs knotted around its neck, and looked just as nervous at appearing in front of the students as the students were excited to see it. Conjugation was so dull.
"Concentrate on what you're doing. This question has been on the N.E.W.T.s for three of the last five years." McGonagall waited for at least apparent calm. "Yes, Tindy?"
There was a brief whispered exchange which left her apparently disconcerted when the elf scurried to the door. "Miss Granger, if you will come this way please?"
* * *
With obvious nervousness, Tindy led Hermione downstairs and towards the front of the castle. In a bright room, with a lit fire and things set for tea, they found Professor Dumbledore waiting with Percy Weasley.
"Miss Granger," the Headmaster said warmly, "so nice to see you." He gestured to the third armchair as they stood to welcome her.
"Please forgive me for interrupting your class," Percy said in his always polite way. "I know how important 7th year is."
"Percy," Dumbledore reassured him, "we understand you come to us in the midst of urgent Ministry business."
Hermione was suddenly more alarmed than confused. "Is something the matter with Ron?" What else could bring Percy to see her urgently?
"Quite a few things, I should say," Percy replied, rather grimly.
"Percy. . ." Dumbledore began.
"Oh, I know, I've heard it all. Ron means well, Fred and George were a bad influence, he's passionate rather than blindly self-centred. Believe me, Professor, and with every respect, I have heard it all many times."
Dumbledore paused for a moment and then, reached forward to pat Percy companionably on the knee – at which Percy looked considerably surprised. "Well don't worry, my boy. I've found such things tend to work out in the end." Percy gave the Headmaster a slightly incredulous look. "And we are always so pleased to see an old student."
Before she had any further chance to find out what was going on, the Headmaster had cheerfully wished her goodbye, urging her to try one of those lemon tarts, which were delicious, and left.
Percy was looking at her over his glasses and when Hermione met his eyes he glanced away.
"I want you to know, Miss Granger," he said finally, "that I respect and admire you."
Hermione only just kept hold of her cup at the horrible thought that Percy was here to declare some sort of interest in her. It was too late, wasn't it? And Percy, well. . . she looked rather desperately down at the cup's orange pattern.
"And I heard of my brother's actions with both anger and dismay. Thus," Percy clearly steeled himself for some unpleasant duty, "I have come on behalf of my parents, who understandably wish to reduce the harm Ron has done."
Hermione went to explain about the ring, but Percy raised a hand. "After some research," he continued, "and making use, with permission of course, of some of the Ministry's new resources, which I am currently employed in collating for the marvellous new library. . ." he looked at the girl, clearly realising he had slid off on a tangent.
"I come to make you an offer of marriage."
"Oh," Hermione said faintly.
* * *
When Hermione finally returned to the common room, feeling drained, the 7th year had begun to gather to read the Rite supplement.
"Hermione!" Pavarti exclaimed, coming to her side. "What on earth was it?"
Hermione considered bringing out the letter from Arthur and Molly Weasley, telling them about the marriage bond that would cancel out the declaro spell, showing them the lease on a flat in Oxford which they had offered for her exclusive use while studying at the University. Not that she would accept it, of course, not that they could afford it – although Percy was very insistent. She was afraid he might even be contributing, for the sake of the family, which meant Bill and Charlie would be as well.
"It's fine," she managed to say when the small group began to become concerned. "It was only Percy Weasley, about Ron's offer for the Rite."
"Oh."
"Yes." They were clearly waiting on something more. "So, I'm tired. I think I'll go up to bed."
"Well," Lavender said, looking at Pavarti and then at the rest of the room.
"Oh, could we just get on with it," Dean said with annoyance. "I don't know about the rest of you but I'm sick to death of all this angst. What's happened to Gryffindor this year, anyway? Ron's in the dungeons, Harry's upstairs refusing to see anyone, except probably Malfoy, and now Hermione's crying and not talking."
"Was she crying?" Neville asked with some dismay.
"No, she wasn't," Parvati said. "Honestly Dean, you're such a pig sometimes."
"Oh look," Lavender said, clutching the Supplement more tightly. "Our mental analyst outlines common Rite anxieties – page 13!"
* * *
Lavender saw her first, and nudged Seamus, who threw a roll at Dean and then nodded pointedly at Hermione coming through the Hall. By the time she sat down the senior Gryffindors were all looking at her. Except Harry.
"Good morning," she said evenly. "Dean could you pass the butter?"
When attention had returned to Seamus's new gift, the latest release Firebolt 'Rite Special', and to Lavender's outrage that he wouldn't keep it off the table, Hermione said quietly to Harry, "Is everything all right?"
Harry shrugged. "I'm fine," he said.
"I'm going down to see Ron this evening, do you want to come?"
"No."
"Just no?"
"No, definitely not."
There was a cry of outrage as demonstration of the broom's aerodynamics spilt a cruet of jam on Lavender's robe. Under the furor and laughter, Hermione leant closer to Harry.
"Are things going badly with Draco?" she whispered, putting a hand on his wrist.
"I don't want to talk, Hermione," Harry said to his barely touched plate.
"Don't you think it might help?" she whispered a little more urgently.
Harry stood and left, without saying anything or looking back. She watched him stride out, noticing for the first time that he was wearing plain black school robes.
Bringing her attention back to the fuss around Seamus, Hermione caught Ginny Weasley's angry glare in her direction.
* * *
"Mr Potter," Snape growled. "If you're quite finished daydreaming we are in the middle of a Potions lesson."
Harry scowled at Snape's back as he stalked off between the desks, pausing to harangue Neville, who submitted to it with so exactly the usual combination of anxiety and embarrassment that it seemed for a moment that it must be an act.
"Lover's quarrel," he heard a low voice say from just behind him to the Slytherin side.
"Think Snape ripped the robe to shreds when Potty wouldn't put out?"
"Nah, I think he caught him blowing Malfoy in the Astronomy Tower."
Contemplating the specific combination of hexes than might have Goyle grunting on the floor covered in weeping sores, Harry noticed Draco casually slip out of his seat. Checking Snape's position quickly Draco turned a truly malicious smile on the boys behind Harry, who leapt up to stop Malfoy rushing to his rescue like he was some kind of damsel, when they were both frozen by a Snape growl.
"Malfoy, Potter, take your seats."
Harry's face flushed at the veiled snickering behind and to his left.
"And Goyle, Crabbe, as you find so much pleasure in Potions you can join me here tonight. I believe my specimen cabinet needs a hands-on inventory. At 8pm precisely."
A collective shudder ran around the class. No one ever wanted to retrieve anything from that cupboard, where some of the specimens not only writhed but also muttered.
Harry could feel the glares boring into his back. Great, he fumed at his book, now we can move from taunting to outright violence.
As they finally moved out of the room, Snape asked Harry to wait. There were snickers and curious amused glances from both halves of the class.
When the room was completely empty, Snape looked pointedly at Harry's black serge schoolrobe. "Did you have something to tell me, Mr Potter?"
Harry looked stubbornly somewhere past Snape's left ear. "I would have mailed you tonight along with everyone else."
"Really," Snape said, with additional stiffness lacing his usually cold classroom voice.
"I won't be bothering you any more," Harry said, giving Snape one quick angry glance, "I've decided not to accept anybody at all."
Snape seemed about to say something, but when the silence drew out for several seconds Harry said, "May I go now, sir?"
* * *
The door next to Professor Snape's was slightly ajar.
"Ron?" Hermione said, with her hand on the door. Ron pulled it open rather quickly, pulling her off balance.
"Sorry!"
"It's okay," she laughed, and then stopped.
"You came."
"Well, I asked to come down. . ."
"But still, you came."
They stood there for a second.
"Oh, sorry," Ron gestured with a wide sweep of his arm back into the room. "Come in."
She looked around the room and made a few comments, asked a few questions. Those were crestfly larvae, and that was the tool for removing their heads. Actually, he'd had worse tasks. She supposed this might be where she would work as Snape's apprentice, once Ron was released. That was his timer for the reduction of winter yew berries. Yeah, and that was the reduction. He quite liked the smell. Those were detention essays on the care of cauldrons, which for once he felt particularly qualified to mark.
They laughed, again, nervously. Hermione put a hand on the other pile of papers and turned them towards her. "Force of will: the ethical question of sub-imperius curses. Your end of term essay?"
"Yeah," Ron said, shifting on his feet. "While I was, you know, reading in the area. And, you know, being shouted at in the area" – he nodded in the direction of Snape's room.
Hermione turned to lean on the desk. "All right Ron, are you ready to talk?"
"I've been ready for ages."
"Then be quiet and listen."
Ron nodded.
"Three things. First, I'm ready to stop being angry with you, although I want to be included in the research to find out how we test the ring – we'll do this together from now on. Second, I'm not accepting any money from your family and that includes the flat. And three, we're too young to get married and I'm not going to consider it until we've been through a lot more options."
Ron sat on the stool attached to the bench. "Just give me a second." The faint sound of bubbling came from the cauldron in the corner.
"I'm really glad about number one – and I'd love you to help, although Snape can be really tetchy about things like that. He's not really open to negotiation."
"We'll talk to him together," Hermione said.
Ron blew out a breath. "Okay, just, I warned you. And," he hesitated," about the other things. . ."
"It's not that I'm not touched, Ron. . ."
"Mione, I really don't have a clue what you're talking about. Not that I wouldn't marry you," he added with some emphasis, "but, yeah, of course we're too young."
"You don't know?"
"Should I?"
"The flat, university, the marriage bond – you know, Percy, the letter from your parents," but it was obvious he hadn't known. "Oh dear."
* * *
As Professor Lupin called the class to a formal halt and instructed them all to leave Hermione turned to Harry with a concerned look.
"Just leave it, Hermione," he said. "Ron can look after himself, although you probably haven't noticed."
"Give it up, Harry," Ron said, pulling himself off the floor and to Hermione's side, and putting a hand to her arm.
"Oh, look, I guess you have," Harry said, with evident bitterness. "How wonderful for you both."
"Harry," Ron began, but he was cut off by Lupin.
"Ron, Hermione, could you go on ahead? I'll talk to Harry."
Hermione called "We'll see you later" as they went out, but Harry didn't respond.
"Harry," Remus began in his calmest voice, "I thought we agreed yesterday that you would remember this is a duelling class not a duelling competition."
Harry huffed out an annoyed breath. "I expect you better give me detention, then."
"I understood you already had detention tonight, with Professor Flitwick?"
"I can stand another hour."
"And that you've had detention every night this week."
Harry didn't reply.
"Very well, report to me here at 10pm."
Draco came over from the wall when Harry was well out of the room.
"I don't suppose you could help him, rather than just staying out of the line of fire?"
"I thought I was supposed to let him be."
"Draco. . ."
"What? He doesn't want my help, or anyone else's. He'll work it out himself."
"Draco Malfoy the optimist?"
"No. I've just been watching Harry Potter for a lot more years than you."
"Perhaps," Remus turned to catch Draco's smile. "Would you join me for dinner, Draco?"
"Oh I'm sure I don't know, Professor," Draco said, sweeping the papers around him together, "is that quite proper?"
"I don't think having dinner with a werewolf is precisely on the prohibited list."
"Very well, you can help me with my animagus application."
* * *
Dear Severus,
We have missed you in the staff common room these past few evenings. I hope all is well. I particularly wanted to talk with you about Harry Potter tonight, and I think it urgent enough to send a note. Feel free to owl or firetalk if you wish to, though I won't expect it.
Remus Lupin came to me this evening gravely concerned about Harry's demeanour in the Defence tutorials. Apparently he has sent two Slytherin and one Ravenclaw student to the infirmary in the past two classes, had a major argument with Dean Thomas and upset several of the Hufflepuffs.
You will have noticed Harry's attitude this week, but perhaps you understand its cause better than I do. I have made several attempts to talk to him, but although he will confirm that he intends to withdraw from the Rite of Engagement as soon as possible, he insists that is not the problem. In fact he insists there is no problem. His classmates have no better information.
I am sure you know how concerned I must be to bring an in-house matter to you, and you will rightly suspect I do so at Albus's urging. If you can talk to Harry, will you please do so? You well know how little I approve of such a relationship, but my concern for Harry's state of mind seems more urgent.
With thanks,
Minerva
tbc