Ronald Weasley and the Armor of Gryffindor
Chapter Six : The Ecology of A Hogwart's Broom Closet
Hermione was holding Ron's hand. This in and of itself wasn't cause for celebration, since she had done it a few times recently, but Ron was finally starting to realize that it meant something. What, exactly, neither of them had said in so many words.
Ron was afraid to say anything about it. He worried that just by discussing it, by calling attention to whatever had changed between them, he might destroy it. Hermione didn't say anything about it, either. She just gripped his hand tightly on the way to class, and between class and lunch.
After lunch, he held his hand out to her again, and she accepted it. He walked towards one of the less-used corridors, his heart pounding, as he wondered what he should say to her.
"So, Ron, where are we going?" Hermione said, relieving him of the responsibility for breaking the silence.
"I'm not really sure," Ron confessed, "Neither of us have class right now, and I thought maybe we could just go for a walk."
"That sounds great," Hermione said. She sounded nervous. What did that mean? Was it good? Ron wasn't sure. He wasn't usually big on books, but if someone could have given him a textbook to Hermione, or even girls in general, he would have read it cover to cover. And not just for the illustrations.
"Do you have any idea what they use these rooms for?" Ron asked, curious at how much of the castle seemed to have stayed unused.
"Well, according to Hogwarts: A History, they used to hold more graduate training here. Especially during the first few hundred years of Hogwarts, they would train law enforcement and even soldiers here, before the Ministry started to do it instead."
"Amazing," Ron said. He could almost feel the echoes of the past soldiers here, young Hogwarts graduates getting ready to face down a Dark Wizard and his minions. He shivered, feeling the weight of the old building around him.
"Are you cold?" Hermione asked, feeling his shivering.
"No, it's just this place," he said. "I can't believe the choices that they had to make back then, when the Muggles still believed in magic, and would try to attack a Light wizard as fast as a Dark one. Learning to be an Auror, when you knew you'd probably end up raising Muggle suspicion from your strange habits. The bravery of those people..." Ron trailed off.
"That's not the only kind of bravery," Hermione said softly. "How about the bravery of someone who risks his life for his friends, even when he's sure that he won't survive? You've done that more than once."
Ron blushed at the praise. "So have you," he said. "I'm sure there's no braver witch around."
She looked down. "I don't know that I'd say that. There are things that are harder to do than dying."
Ron replied, "Such as?"
Looking around, she pulled Ron into a small room off the passageway. It was cramped, with a few ancient brooms leaning against the wall. She lit her wand faintly, and looked into Ron's eyes. "When you die doing something heroic, at least you know you'll be remembered. It can be harder to say something risky, even if it seems silly..." Hermione seemed to be casting about for words, but Ron knew what she was talking about.
He took her other hand, so that he was holding both of them, and just stared in her eyes. For a long moment, that was all that they both did, and then she stood on her tip-toes, to get closer to his face, and he leaned down to meet hers. They both closed their eyes, and their lips met.
It was Ron's first kiss. He was scared that he was mistaken, that he'd somehow read the signals wrong, that she hadn't meant for this to happen. But she was kissing him as much as he was kissing her. He forgot his fear, forgot just about everything except for the amazing sensations. He wrapped his hands around Hermione and held her tightly.
One of his hands moved up to cradle the back of her head, his fingers slipping through her hair. He rested the other hand on the small of her back, just north of forbidden territory. She opened her mouth slightly, her tongue lightly questing for his.
As thoughts started to return to him, his fear came back. He was as afraid to stop kissing her as he had been afraid to start. He wondered if she would do this again. He wondered if she liked it as much as he did. He wondered why it had suddenly become so much brighter in the room.
"Mister Weasley! Miss Granger!" Professor Kwikspell's sharp voice barked out. "Isn't this a surprise... two Weasleys in one day. I'm sure your parents will be quite pleased."
Hermione and Ron broke apart swiftly, blinking in the light from the open closet door.
"Well, what have you to say for yourselves?" Professor Kwikspell asked. "Surely you know that this is a totally inappropriate use of a school room."
"I quite agree," came Professor McGonagall's voice from behind Professor Kwikspell. "And I will take this matter from here."
"Minerva, I can handle this," Professor Kwikspell replied. Ron wondered idly if Professor Kwikspell was an Animagus. This looked like the beginnings of a proper catfight. His money was on McGonagall, although he was sure that he didn't want to be in trouble with either one of the Professors.
"They are from my house, Karine," Professor McGonagall replied. Her imperturbable act was obviously just an act, a gesture of contempt for Professor Kwikspell. Ron waited for her to strike back, but Professor McGonagall drove the killing strike home. "And, besides, I would think that it would be better for them to be judged by someone not known for the same crime. Wouldn't you agree?"
Professor Kwikspell turned purple. "That is totally inappropriate, Minerva. You can't say such things in front of... in front of... these students. Especially Mister Weasley, who seems incapable of understanding how polite society behaves."
"Now, Professor, I'm certain that they didn't hear anything they would repeat. Miss Granger, especially, is the soul of discretion. And I'm certain she can keep Mister Weasley from saying anything that he shouldn't."
Hermione tried her best to look like a cherub. Ron didn't bother -- he knew that his innocent act didn't fool anyone.
Professor Kwikspell let out an exasperated sigh, and left without another word. Well, that got Ron away from one person that had it in for him. McGonagall looked plenty mad for both of them, though, so he wasn't sure if that would really help him out.
"Miss Granger, I am quite disappointed with you. While I, too, was once a teenager, I would have thought you would have been able to keep up a better display of propriety, given the number of people that are seeking anything to use against you. Or at least, I would have thought you could have used a locking charm. Ten house points from Gryffindor. I would give you detention, but that would be noticeable enough that it would be difficult to keep tongues from wagging, and I would rather keep this incident as quiet as possible. Although, given that the whole castle already knows about our other pair of young lovers, that may be difficult."
"Which other pair?" Ron asked without thinking.
"Well, I suppose you'll hear soon enough. Professor Sprout found your sister and Mister Potter in the Greenhouse. She's going to have to throw away a number of plants that were psychologically damaged. What's worse, she was leading in a crowd of first years at the time. I don't think that young Miss MacLay will ever be the same."
Ron couldn't form a coherent thought. "Harry... Ginny... together?"
Professor McGonagall sighed, "Indeed, and well put. But we, as Professors, will deal with the matter, Mister Weasley. I must request that you not do anything about that matter yourself, or you will find yourself in detention after all."
"I'm sure he'll be alright, Professor," Hermione said, putting her hand on Ron's shoulder.
Ron still hadn't managed to complete a sentence. Professor McGonagall looked at him critically, as if trying to decide his fate. She nodded, finally. "Well, then, run along. And make sure that the next time you decide to engage in romanticism on Hogwarts grounds, you are more careful."
Ron nodded dumbly, while Hermione gave her assurances. Once Professor McGonagall had left, Hermione looked at Ron. "Are you OK?"
"I'm going to kill him."
"Ron, you can't," Hermione said. She looked angry. "I wasn't talking about him, anyway. Are you okay with what happened with us?"
"I'm going to kill him," Ron repeated, and then he rewound her statements in his head. "Yes, I'm okay with what happened. I'm more than okay. It was amazing," he said, but he noticed that his words weren't having the desired effect. Hermione's eyes were starting to tear up.
"I thought it was special," she said, her voice shaking with emotion, "but all you can think about is Harry?"
"No, it was amazing. I didn't think about Harry or Ginny while we were in the closet," he said, trying to find something to head off an explosion. "I couldn't think at all, it was just..."
"No big surprise there, you not thinking. Oh, never mind," Hermione said, looking like she was holding back tears. "We don't need for anyone else to hear about this. I'll see you at dinner." She ran off towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Ron decided not to follow her -- he didn't think she'd appreciate him barging in, and he didn't need to be caught somewhere else out of bounds quite so soon.
He walked dejectedly down to the Quidditch Pitch, where he sat, watching flying practice and waiting for them to clear out. He wished Professor Hooch hadn't switched practice to the Pitch, but apparently there had been a lot of complaining from the classrooms about distractions from flying students trying to catch Rememberalls. He heard someone walking up behind him, but he didn't turn. Ron figured it was just another student, but he was startled when Luna sat down next to him.
"Hello, Ron," Luna said in her dreamy voice. "I haven't spoken with you much recently."
"No, we haven't talked. How has your term been so far?" Ron felt uncomfortable around Luna. Most people did, he supposed, but he thought he was unusual in feeling bad about it.
"The same as usual," Luna said. She was looking just past Ron, her eyes not meeting his because they were pointed at something far off in space. "I don't think I've lost quite as many things this term, though."
Harry had told Ron about his discussions with Luna towards the end of last term. Ron had been outraged at the time, although now he felt even guiltier for not talking with Luna. "Umm," he said. Then there was silence, and Ron searched for something to say. "I wanted to thank you for your letter over the summer."
"I couldn't let you go without warning, after you were so nice to me last year. Did you heed my warning?"
Ron hesitated. He didn't want to say no, so he fudged. "I can honestly say that we didn't have a single Dark House Elf make it into the Burrow successfully."
She beamed, "That's wonderful. I'm so glad that I could help." Then she fell silent again. She was still staring just past Ron's head, though, and it was starting to get disturbing.
Finally, he spoke up. "Is there something you wanted to talk about?"
"Well," she said, "I wanted to ask you about something. My father never used to ask me about the people here at school, but after last year's article with Harry, he wondered if I could ask you about something."
She fell silent again. After a few minutes, Ron said, "Yes?"
She continued, "Well, he heard that your father was investigating the break-in at the British Magical Museum." Then she fell silent again.
Ron had to restrain himself from physically reaching out and grabbing her. He tried to hide the impatience in his voice, "And you're talking to me, why, exactly?" Well, maybe he didn't hide all of the impatience in his voice. She didn't seem to notice, though. There were advantages to talking to a woman with even less people skills than him.
"Well, father thinks that it has something to do with Slytherin's experiments. He has a picture of an Arachneataur, one of Slytherin's inventions, and he'd like to use it in the magazine. He wanted me to find out if your father could comment on whether or not Slytherin's journal was taken. He also wondered if he could comment on whether or not Slytherin's love child, Herman, was still frozen in a magic vault under the museum."
Ron ignored the last part of her comment, fixated on the rest. "Arachnea-what? Doesn't that mean some sort of spider?"
"Only half," Luna said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It has the body of an Acromantula, and the head and shoulders of a man. Sort of like a centaur," she said, "but with eight legs. Oh, and fangs of a spider."
"I hate spiders," Ron said, dully.
Luna rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows that. That's probably why your father's working on the case. Either that, or it's because of Herman."
Ron didn't know what to say to that -- he was still thinking of a homicidal giant spider. Then he shook his head. There was no reason to believe that Luna's story was anything other than her usual meanderings.
Luna waited patiently through his silence. He thought it was probably the least she could do, considering what he had waited through. Ron almost forgot that she was waiting for him to say something.
When he realized that she'd keep waiting until she heard something from him, he decided he had to say something. "I don't know anything about Herman or anything else. I can ask my father, though."
"Thanks, I appreciate that. Have a good day, Ron. And good luck in the game this Saturday." Ron waved his goodbyes, and watched as Luna walked away.
The game. Ron had almost forgotten. They had the first Quidditch match of the season on Saturday. It was just against Hufflepuff, though, and he didn't think it would be anything worth worrying about.
Flying class was just letting out. Ron watched as everyone filtered out of the Pitch. Once they were all gone, he waited a few more minutes to make sure they were all gone. Then he practiced for a while on the Bludgers before dinner.
When Ron walked into the Great Hall, a great hush fell over the room. Nearly all the students fell silent, and most of them scurried to sit down, if they weren't already. A scroll, probably dropped by someone, blew aimlessly across the room. There were a few exceptions, however. Blaise Zabini stood up and moved to lean against the wall. He was staring at Ron, in what looked like anticipation.
Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were being much more obvious, however. Draco stalked over from the Slytherin table, with his brainless bodyguards following close behind. He had a knowing smirk on his face. Draco's blonde hair swung out behind him as he walked. His high cheekbones looked especially accented today. As Draco walked up to him, Ron gasped. "Good lord, you're not wearing makeup, are you?"
In the silence of the Great Hall, Ron's insult echoed. There was laughter from most of the tables, even the Slytherins. Draco looked furious. He spat back, "That's none of your business, Weasley. I had a question for you -- how does it feel knowing that Potter is shagging your sister?"
Draco's question didn't echo as Ron's had, probably because the laughter from Ron's insult was still echoing. The people who were close enough to hear, though, weren't laughing now. Ron saw the Hufflepuffs who had overheard gasping, he saw the Ravenclaws jumping under the tables, and the nearby Gryffindors had stood up immediately, anger in their eyes, except for Hermione, Harry, and Ginny, all of whom were still seated nearby, their heads down.
Ron had almost managed to forget about Harry. Somehow, half-spiders, Bludgers, and Hermione had been enough to take his mind off of what he'd heard from McGonagall. He noticed that Harry wasn't standing to deny Draco's accusation, though, and neither was Ginny.
Ron looked at Draco. "I think that's between me and Harry, Malfoy, and we can settle things without you."
The smirk returned to Draco's face. "I didn't think you'd do anything about it. You're probably getting a cut of Ginny's hourly rate."
Harry stopped pretending to ignore them, and stood. Ginny was grabbing at his arm, trying to keep him seated, but Harry seemed to be ignoring her. He had his eyes fixed on Draco. "Take that back, Malfoy."
Ron looked over at Harry. "You can stay out of it, Harry. She's my sister. I'll take care of it."
Draco grinned, enjoying his audience, "What's the matter, Weasley? Afraid he'll ask for a discount?"
Ron didn't hesitate, he just swung his fist. He felt it impact with Draco's dainty chin, heard a loud crack, and saw Malfoy fall back into the arms of Crabbe and Goyle.
"Good one, mate," Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder. He didn't expect what came next -- a right hook from Ron to the eye, shattering his glasses and knocking him back against the table. Ron turned and left the Great Hall; suddenly, dinner didn't seem that important.
The next morning at breakfast, Ron felt like he was being shunned. Hermione was sitting next to Harry, talking to him quietly, when Ron came down. Seats that he tried to move towards were suddenly saved for someone else, or people would move elsewhere. He sat down alone at the end of the table, figuring it wasn't worth the effort to join anyone.
Ron tried to talk to Hermione at lunch, but she just turned her head, with a loud, "Hmph!" He sat at the end of the table again, instead. He wasn't alone this time, though. Lavender sat next to him. She didn't mention yesterday at all, for which he was grateful. She just talked about world events, mostly the ones found in WWN or the Quiddler, and about classes.
Ron felt comfortable talking with Lavender. He didn't feel at all challenged, like he had to be someone better than he was. She didn't even seem to expect anything from him.
At Saturday's game, Ron played Ginny, instead of Potter, as Seeker. Neither one of them was talking to him, but he blamed Ginny less for the week's events. Potter, who had known about her crush for years, had obviously taken advantage of her.
They won the game, but barely - they had been behind 170 to 30 when Ginny caught the Snitch. Hufflepuff's team looked happier than Ron would have liked, especially Terry Boots, who was smiling gleefully. Ron wasn't sure why they'd been as tough as they were, but it might have had something to do with the inability of the Gryffindor team to cooperate with each other.
Ron received a Howler the next Monday from his mother, as did Harry and Ginny. Ron was pleased that his seemed to have been created last -- she hadn't given him nearly as much venom as Ginny, although it sounded like Harry had gotten an almost equivalent earful.
By now, Ron had heard several different versions of what had happened between Harry and Ginny in the greenhouse. Discounting the ones that sounded like they had been over-embellished, it sounded like Harry and Ginny had been kissing when Sprout and the children found them. No hands, no missing clothes, and, according to a disappointed Ravenclaw first year, no tongue. Since Ron, himself, hadn't been quite so chaste, he wondered whether or not he'd been wrong to be quite so mad at Harry. After all, with Harry not talking to him, he couldn't very well make sure that he wasn't up to something else.
Ron spent the next several weeks feeling vaguely guilty, and very disconnected. Lavender often sat with him, but they didn't talk of anything of substance. Ron missed being part of a close circle of friends. He also knew that he was letting his father down, by not keeping an eye on Harry.
The Professors were mostly the same towards him, except for Snape and Kwikspell. Snape actually treated Ron better. Ron didn't know if it was because he was happy to see the friends parted, or if it was because Ron's mood was so much like the Professor's lately. Kwikspell treated him even worse. She would team him with Harry in contests that were likely to end up with one or the other getting hurt, and goad them into taking things out on each other.
Ron spent most of his meals looking over at his friends, wondering if there was any way to patch things up. They didn't seem to notice him, or even to acknowledge him. Neither did most of the other students, although Luna still stopped by to talk with Ron occasionally, and Lavender didn't seem to mind having Ron all to herself.
The Halloween Ball came, and went. Hermione didn't go with anyone, Ron noted. Neither did he. Lavender asked him at the last minute, but he declined. She looked crushed, so he ended up suggesting that they stay in the common room and play games. Hermione was across the room studying all night, while the rest of Hogwarts partied. Harry, of course, took Ginny.
The next day, when the owls came in, Ron had his eye out for the Daily Prophet. Luna had hinted that they might have sold another article to the Prophet, which Ron might be interested in. He was surprised, though, to see Errol flying in, barely over the table, a slightly damp letter clutched in his talons. Ginny and Harry were leaning over, looking in each other's eyes. They didn't seem to see him coming. Ron tried to reach out to stop the batty owl, but he didn't get to it in time, and his quick cry served only to draw the rest of the students' attention in time to see Errol crash into Ginny's head.
She cried out softly from the impact, but seemed to be alright, if a bit shaken. Errol looked accusingly up at her from the table, where he was walking slightly in circles.
"Thanks, Ron," Harry said sarcastically. "You couldn't have stopped him in time?"
"I'm not the Seeker," Ron snapped back. "I tried, but he got through anyway."
"Oh, shut it, both of you," Ginny said. "I think Ron's suffered enough. Besides, you have to hear this." She held the letter in her hand, and Harry and Ron looked at her, expectantly.
"I'd written Charlie to thank him for recommending that book to you, and he wrote back. He says he never recommended any book. He's never even heard of the book I got you."
Hermione had heard the last part, and she looked alarmed. "Ron, this is bad. You need to get someone to look at the book right away." She seemed to have forgotten that she wasn't talking to him.
"Well, there's someone else who has already seen it," Ron said. "Professor Ding has been helping me with some of the exercises."
"And she hasn't said anything about it that makes you worried?"
"Constantly," Ron said, deadpan, "but not any more than I was when I first read it. I'm getting pretty good."
"Really?" Hermione replied, "You still haven't let me see you practice."
Ron bit back his reply, that he couldn't very well invite her when she wasn't talking to him, and just shook his head. "You're welcome to come any time that you want to. Just don't make too much of a spectacle of it. I don't need anyone from Slytherin there."
She nodded.
Ron continued, "Would you like to come by this afternoon?"
"Sure," she said, smiling. They left breakfast together, headed for the second floor. There was a shout ahead of them, a strangled cry from Argus Filch. Ron joined the other students in rushing up the stair to see what his problem was.
Mr. Filch knelt in front of a broom closet, whose door had been torn off its hinges. The door lay in splinters in front of the closet. The back of the closet had also been ripped out, revealing an obvious passage behind it. There were shreds of spider webs attached to the edges of the passageway.
"Mrs. Norris," Filch said, weakly.
Albus strode into the area confidently, students moving out of his way as if by magic. "Argus, we should discuss this in private. Professor Kwikspell?" he asked, looking at somewhere behind Ron.
"Yes, Headmaster?" she replied, moving up. The students didn't part for her as they had for Albus, still crowding to get a look at the scene. Ron saw most of the Professors in the crowd, along with Valentin Vrag.
"I will take Mr. Filch to Madame Pomfrey. I would like you to stay here and seal off the passageway. We don't know who might use the passage."
"We Don't Know Who?" Valentin shouted, looking panicked.
Albus held out his hand. "Calm down, Mr. Vrag. I believe you are confused. I am not referring to the one that styles himself as Lord Voldemort, or You Know Who."
"Who?" Valentin asked, now looking puzzled, but Albus dismissed him with a shake of his head.
"We can discuss this at some other time, Mr. Vrag. For now, time is of the essence. Students, you are dismissed. Please return to your dormitories for the remainder of the afternoon. Food will be served to you there."
"I guess I can't come to your practice this afternoon," Hermione said, softly.
"Next time," Ron responded, "or whenever you can make the time for me. If you still want to come."
"Next time," she replied, affirming, "But, Ron..."
"Yes?"
"No more broom closets," she whispered, looking at the remains of the cleaning implements.