Chapter Seven : Practice Makes Perfect
Ding stood by Ron in the Quidditch Pitch. She had actually gone as far as reserving it with Professor Hooch for their lessons this week. Lessons... he hadn't thought about it in those terms, but the truth was, he had started taking their informal meetings as seriously as any of his other classes.
Ron wasn't sure why it was so important. He hadn't deliberately chosen to pursue what Ding called the Way, and he still wasn't sure how that fit in with his ideal view of the future. It felt good, though, when he practiced.
Hermione hadn't come down with him to the Pitch. She felt a little unsettled about going outside the school, and he hadn't wanted to pressure her. He was too afraid of what she might do, to do that.
He almost never missed a Bludger anymore, which was more amazing because they were running two of them at full strength, while blindfolded, with a bat in either hand. A month without talking to Hermione had done amazing things to focus his mind on other tasks -- sublimation, Ding had called it, whatever that meant.
He thought he heard Ding moving behind him, and smiled. She had taken to trying to throw him off by occasionally stopping a Bludger and letting it go, to throw off his rhythm. He'd decided on a new approach when that happened - if he heard her behind him, he'd just duck the next Bludger, instead of hitting it. She'd already proven her ability to catch them. As the next Bludger came from in front of him, he put his new plan into action, twisting to the left.
He heard a startled gasp from ahead of him, and a shriek from behind, which made him realize that he'd made a terrible mistake. Ding was still in front of him and to the left, which meant that someone else was about to be crushed by the Bludger, and he had a strong suspicion of whom that someone would be.
Ron pivoted quickly, and reached out his hand. The world seemed to slow around him. He could sense the Bludger, feel it slightly outpacing him, and he pushed harder, hoping that he could catch up with it before it reached Hermione. For a moment, he finally succeeded in completely forgetting the pattern, and just hitting the ball.
There was a loud smash as he hit the ball, and time returned to normal. Ron whipped off his blindfold, dropping both of the bats on the ground, hoping that he had been able to deflect the ball before it hit Hermione. Behind him, he heard Ding catching one of the Bludgers. The other, though, was in front of him. He had succeeded in connecting with it, but he'd done more than just changing its course. It lay in pieces, completely destroyed, before a shocked Hermione.
"Ron, how did you do that?" Hermione asked.
Ron said, without really thinking about it, "I'm not sure."
Ding looked proud. "Exactly! You can't know how to do this, you have to feel it, you have to just do it."
"That doesn't make sense, Professor," Hermione said boldly. "Surely you can't suggest that he act without understanding how it all works."
"Miss Granger," Professor Ding responded softly, "There is a difference between understanding the process, and following it. While it is laudable to know everything you can about every muscle and bone in your body, it will not help you to walk."
Hermione seemed chastened, despite Ding's easy tone. "I'm sorry Professor, I didn't think about it that way."
Ron stepped in, "I'm not sure I'd thought about it that way before, either."
Professor Ding looked at both of them. "I'm sure that you did not. It isn't the way that most wizards and witches think. You're trained the same way that Muggles are -- to look for the explanation behind the magic. You don't learn to just become part of the magic."
Hermione pursed her lips, and Ron waited for the coming confrontation. He'd usually been the one to cause the look that was on her face right now. This was the look that proclaimed that someone had stated a fact that wasn't in Hermione's worldview. Ron didn't think he'd seen that look directed at someone other than him since Umbridge left.
Ding deflected it as easily as she would a Bludger, though. "I won't pretend that there isn't a better explanation," she confessed, "but I'm much better at the knowing side of things than the doing."
Hermione seemed mollified at that. She had remembered another topic, though. "Professor, we found out that Ron shouldn't have had that book. Ginny bought it for him on her brother's recommendation, but he says that he never recommended it."
"Really?" Ding raised an eyebrow. "That's interesting. Well, there's nothing harmful in that book. I suppose there could be... problems... that would develop from his studying it, such as the time he's lost studying other topics, but that seems rather subtle for most of our enemies, wouldn't you say?"
Ron noticed the use of the word, 'our'. He hadn't consciously thought of whether or not Ding was on their side. He had just assumed that since Dumbledore had hired her, and she hadn't shown interest in being a Dark Arts teacher, she was probably okay. She was hinting, though, that she was a more active ally. He wasn't sure what he thought of that. It was good to have allies, but he didn't have any way of knowing if she was really on their side.
Hermione seemed to pick up on his thinking. She answered Ding's question, while Ron was still lost in thought. "You're right, Professor, but I don't know if we can discount the possibility. It's not like they haven't attacked Harry's friends before."
"Well, I don't think this is an attack," Ding said, "but I agree that we should find out who made the recommendation and why. In the meantime, I can't think of a reason to prevent Ron from learning everything that he can."
Hermione nodded, but she seemed reluctant. "I suppose not."
"Since I have your approval," Ding said, her voice not betraying the sarcasm that was inherent in the words, "I think that we should continue." She tossed the Bludger at Ron, and he batted it away. It didn't explode this time, but Ron was pretty sure that he could make it, if he wanted to. He couldn't afford to replace too many Bludgers, though, so he decided not to try.
Hermione sat and watched, more or less patiently. When he came close to missing a Bludger, she would shriek; when he had a particularly good save, she'd yell in encouragement. This felt amazing, even better than Quidditch, since he knew that Hermione was there entirely for him.
Ron was still on a high when they called it a day, heading off for dinner. As soon as Ding was out of earshot, Hermione threw her arms around Ron. She didn't kiss him, but she held him tightly. "I can't believe that you were doing something so dangerous," she said.
"Thanks for caring," he replied.
She pulled away, and looked into his eyes, "You would have, in my place."
Ron nodded. "Of course I would have."
Hermione had a sudden look of realization, abruptly changing the subject. "I almost forgot to ask. Why did you look so alarmed by what Professor Ding said?" She started walking back towards the school.
"Well, it was the whole idea of the enemies being 'our' enemies. I mean, sure, I thought Ding was okay and all that, but I hadn't really thought about her being on our side or not."
"Why does that bother you?" Hermione asked.
Ron was thrilled; he was actually explaining something other than Quidditch to Hermione. "Well, think back to our first year. We thought that Snape was working with You-Know-Who, but we were wrong. Then think about year three. We keep not knowing whom there is to trust. We know that Dumbledore trusts her enough to let her teach here," he said, as he opened the door into the entry way, "but he let Kwikspell teach here too, and she's probably You-Know-Who's errand girl."
A nasal voice came from beside the door, "Mister Weasley!"
Ron gulped, and turned to his right. He said meekly, "Yes, Professor Snape?" The Potions Master was studying one of the large hourglasses that kept track of the school's House Points. Ron hadn't even thought to look around as he had voiced his last statement.
"I would have thought that a Hogwarts Prefect such as yourself would have learned to avoid such inappropriate statements. Can you provide any explanation for your actions? Be quiet, Miss Granger," Snape said, looking at Hermione as he said the last, silencing her defense.
"Well, Professor, I don't have a good explanation. I was just saying that we really didn't know who was on You-Know-Who's side. I mean, we used to think you might be, and we couldn't have been more wrong." Ron wasn't being intentionally flattering, it just came out that way, but his statements seemed to mollify Snape. Of course, he couldn't just stop there. "And Professor Kwikspell, well, she's even more of a pain than you are. Not that you're a pain, Professor," he backpedaled, but it was too late.
"Twenty house points from Gryffindor," Snape said, "and detention tomorrow night. I will inform my students to avoid cleaning their caldrons between now and then, to ensure that you have a memorable experience this time."
"Yes, Professor," Ron almost squeaked, as Snape turned and marched off, his cloak swinging in the air behind him.
"Amazing," Hermione said, "I think you were about to get away before you stuck your foot in your mouth. Would you like some mustard with that?"
"Very funny," Ron said, peevishly.
They entered the Great Hall together, and quickly sat down. There was a titter of conversation at their entrance, either because someone had heard that he'd upset Snape, or because he and Hermione were together again.
Hermione seemed to be avoiding looking at Lavender. She was seated across the table from Ron at an angle, and she kept trying to meet his eyes. Ron felt caught in the middle. He was relieved when Harry sat down, mostly because Hermione seemed to have something to talk with him about.
Hermione had barely waited for Harry to sit down before she asked him a question, "Harry, I was doing some reading today. I wondered... have you ever had a chance to look into your family history?"
"No, I never have," Harry said. He had that pole-axed expression on his face, like he always did when he found out something about his parents that he didn't already know, or when someone pointed out that they were gone. Ron hoped that Hermione was going somewhere with this, and that it wasn't just torture.
"Well, I was doing some reading today, for the History of Magic, and I found something out that I hadn't known. I found a genealogy that connects with yours. You're related to Godric Gryffindor, Harry!"
"Really?" Harry looked pleased. Ron hated to dash his hopes, but there was something he was obviously overlooking.
"Hermione, isn't half the wizarding world related to Gryffindor? After all, the pure-breds have done an awful lot of inbreeding since then," Ron asked.
"True, but it's complicated. I think, and I could be wrong, that Harry is actually the patrilineal descendant of Godric."
Blank stares greeted her.
"Look, you've never met anyone named Gryffindor or Slytherin, right? That's because in those days, no one had surnames. The best you could hope for was an epithet that described you, or that described your personal crest. Godric Gryffindor's son was named Cal Daisardan, after the place where he was born. His son spent some time in France, where he was known for his skill with Gate magic. His name was Vincent Portier, which meant gatekeeper. He was the first to hand the name down."
"And in time, Portier became Potter?" Harry asked.
"I think so," Hermione said. "Although the records are a little unclear. It's also possible that the Potters were just friends of the Portiers, who ended up managing their estates."
"So, forgive me, but why is this important?" Ron asked. He didn't want to be snotty, but one more reason to worship the Boy Who Lived didn't seem like ideal dinnertime conversation to Ron. He didn't think it would do Harry any good, anyway, to find another thing he hadn't known about his family's past.
"Well, you remember what Binns was saying about there being talk of Godric Gryffindor leaving behind a secret chamber of his own?" Hermione's voice had fallen to a whisper, and Ron and Harry had to lean in to hear her. They nodded.
"Well," she continued, "if there is a chamber, there's a chance that he's stored his armor there. It was never found after he died, and it was rumored that only his Heir could safely wear it."
"So, you're saying that Harry's the only one who can wear it?"
"Possibly," she hesitated. "The problem is, according to the legend, if someone who isn't his Heir wears the armor, they won't live past the next sunrise. I don't know if I'm sure enough of his ancestry to tell him to wear it."
"Well, if it isn't the Potters, who would it be?" Harry asked. "I suppose it's too much to hope for that it's Bill Weasley or something."
"Godric had a daughter as well as a son. If the Potters aren't related to the Portiers, and if the inheritance could pass to the matrilineal line -- that means through the daughter, Ron, don't be daft -- then her descendants could wear the armor. The problem is, her family ended up being driven out of Scotland in the early eleventh century. They were last spotted joining up with some of the Romany in Eastern Europe. I think we can safely count that branch of the family as lost. If Harry isn't the Heir, then I don't think we're going to find him."
"What does it matter, anyway? What does this armor do that's so special?"
"I'm not sure," Hermione said. "I don't think it protects against any of the Unforgiveables, but it should be effective against most Muggle weapons."
"I don't think we'll have to worry much about those," Ron said, doubtfully. "I haven't seen many Death Eaters walking around with machine-gums."
"That's machine guns, Ron, not gums. And you're right, they don't seem to use Muggle weapons. Maybe it's pointless to even worry about it, since we don't know if Harry could even use the Armor." She looked crestfallen.
Ron felt bad for having dashed her hopes. "You never know," he said, trying to provide her with a ray of hope, "Maybe the Armor will protect against something else that You Know Who would use. It doesn't hurt to know about it at least. Maybe we can use it on our NEWTs."
She brightened up, "That's true. If we could find any proof that Gryffindor's chamber actually exists, I'm sure we could get highest marks on our History of Magic NEWTS."
"Well, then," Ron said, "Where is it?"
"I'm not sure," Hermione replied thoughtfully, "But I'm sure we'll be able to find out."
"I don't suppose there's any record of it being found before?" Harry asked. "Maybe someone put the armor on before, and their ghost is still hanging around the entry way?"
"I don't think we'll get that lucky again, Harry," Hermione replied, almost snidely. "But we have a year and a half, we'll probably be able to find it by then."
"Well, I hope so," Ron replied. "I can't imagine having that long to find something secret. We're usually looking for it at the end of the school year while they're setting the table for the Leaving Feast. I'd hate to be late to it again."
"We'll do our best, Ron," Hermione said sardonically. She was looking at something over Ron's shoulders. "I wonder what she wants?"
"What?" Ron said, and looked back, himself. Luna was approaching them.
"I'm glad that I found you all together," she said. "I wanted to ask you something."
"Yes?" Ron answered.
"Well, I was thinking that even though Professor Kwikspell is actually teaching us practical work again, it might not hurt for us to gather the students from Dumbledore's Army back together again. After all, with something springing out of Broom Closets, who knows who might be attacked next?" She looked at Ron with a mischievous glint in her eye. He wondered if she knew something about his recent activities with Hermione.
"I think that's a good idea," Hermione said, ignoring her implication. "We need to be able to work on this together. I don't think we should try to keep it a secret, though."
"I agree," Luna said, in her dreamy voice. "I was thinking that one of us," she looked at Harry, "might consider asking Dumbledore if he would mind. It would save asking the various Heads of House."
"That sounds like a good idea," Ron said. "How about it Harry?"
"Me?" Harry replied. "I don't know... other than for lessons, Dumbledore has barely talked to me."
"Lessons?" Luna's ears perked up. "What sort of lessons are you getting from Dumbledore?"
"Umm... Remedial Potions. Snape said I needed more instruction, but I wasn't getting it from him."
"Really…" the word trailed off Luna's tongue, and her eyes were wild with speculation. Ron hoped that didn't mean that Harry would end up in the Quiddler.
"Yeah, it's only one night a week, though," Harry said. "I guess I could ask him the next time I have a lesson."
"That would be wonderful," she replied, "I'll see you later." She walked off towards the Ravenclaw table.
"I still think she's bonkers," Ron said, "but she has some good ideas."
"Yes, she does," Hermione said warily. "I hope she doesn't talk too much about your lessons, Harry. It wouldn't take much for You Know Who to guess what you're up to." Ron knew, as did Hermione, that Harry's Remedial Potions lessons were actually lessons in Occulumancy. This was still considered an important secret, as knowing it would lead to the discovery of what Harry's curse scar allowed, which might lead to more news stories about the crazy, and untrustworthy, Harry Potter, who thought what the Dark Lord wanted him to.
"Well, soon, it won't matter," Harry said. "I can block out Dumbledore, now, and I haven't had a dream in months."
"That's what you said the last time," Ron said. "You're not hiding anything, are you?"
Harry shook his head. He looked apologetic. "Look, I'm sorry about that. I couldn't be more sorry. If I'd learned it back then..." Harry trailed off, and Ron knew he was thinking of Sirius.
Hermione ventured to change the subject, "So, Ron, when do you think you'll find time to work on D.A.? You seem to be racking up detentions again."
"Not again," Harry groaned. "What about Quidditch? We're playing Ravenclaw in two weeks."
"It's only one night," Ron said, "It shouldn't get in the way of practice."
"I hope not," Harry replied. "Look, I'll talk to you later. I've got to meet someone in the Library."
"In the Library?" Ron goggled at his back as he walked off. "Who would Harry be meeting in the Library? Besides you, I mean."
Hermione snickered, "I'm guessing Ginny, since she wasn't at dinner."
Ron demanded, "What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing," Hermione answered, but her smirk made him think that he was still missing something. He let it go, though, and just made small talk with her until after dinner, when they went back up to the Gryffindor dormitory and played Scrabble.
~.~.~
Ron scowled as he rubbed at the caldrons in Snape's dungeon. He'd heard that, in preparation for this evening's detention, the Professor had picked some of the most repulsive potions possible for his class. He could believe it.
He was rubbing a scouring brush against the inside of the caldron, removing what appeared to be overcooked eggs, sour milk curds, and molasses. His stomach was churning. The brush made a tinny sound as it rubbed against the iron, which echoed through the caldron and vibrated inside Ron's head.
After a few caldrons, Ron realized that the vibration wasn't just in his head. Something big was moving nearby.
Ron put the brush down next to the caldron, and walked stealthily towards the door. The vibration was getting louder. Ron opened the door. Across the hall from the Potions Dungeon, he saw the wall starting to shake. There was a thin black blade beginning to extrude from the wall.
He panicked. Ron left the Potions dungeon, running for the stairs, calling at the top of his lungs. "Professor! Professor!"
Unfortunately, the first Professor to answer his call was the one he least wanted to see. Even more unfortunately, he didn't see Professor Snape until after he had collided with him.
"Mister Weasley," Snape said, brushing himself off. "I do hope that you have a good excuse for this insult to my person."
"Professor, I'm sorry. It's just, the Arachneataur, it's coming through the wall."
"Through the wall," Snape replied, drawing the words out. "You are attempting to tell me that the large half-spider which was featured prominently in last week's Quiddler not only exists, but is now travelling through a Hogwarts wall?"
"Yes, Professor. Right across the hallway from the Potions Dungeon."
"I see," Snape said. "Stay right here."
Ron stood in place while Snape ran towards his beloved dungeon. There was the sound of several explosions. He winced at each of them. He realized that he was actually rooting for Snape, which was probably a sign of just how much he hated spiders.
A few minutes later, the explosions stopped. Snape walked back up the stairs, dusting himself off. "Yes, well, the creature, whatever it was, seems to have run away. I believe that it may have a high resistance to magic."
"Great," Ron grumbled. "Just what we need."
"What are you standing around here for?" Snape snapped back at him. "There are caldrons to clean. I'll inform Dumbledore about the incursion."
Ron stood there, with his mouth open. Surely, Snape wouldn't expect him to go back down there?
"Are you waiting for something?" Snape asked, "or would you like to lose more house points?"
"Sorry, Professor," Ron said, and he walked hesitantly towards the Potions Dungeon. He could feel Snape's eyes on his back until he was out of view.
The wall showed the results of the spider's assault and Snape's vigorous defense. The stone surrounding it had been melted into slag, sealing the entry way shut. He supposed that meant that he was as safe here as anywhere else, but he wished that he was somewhere higher up. He wondered if Snape would mind if he relocated all the caldrons to the Astronomy Tower. Ron shuddered; he had an image in his mind of the Potions Master finding him there with a stack of dirty caldrons, and decided that he was better off just finishing his job here.
Ron didn't get to sleep until nearly morning. The caldrons were difficult to scrub, but his biggest problem had been that he kept stopping to listen for underground vibrations or stone cutting.
At breakfast, Dumbledore stood to make an announcement. He informed the students that all secret passageways were to be considered off-limits, and that a Hogwarts student had narrowly missed being assaulted, only saved through the heroism of Professor Snape. Ron scowled; while he hadn't been mentioned by name, most people knew that he'd been in detention yesterday, so it wouldn't be long before the whole school knew that he had been rescued by the valiant Snape.
Ron's fears were soon realized, and for the next several weeks, he was the butt of a number of Gryffindor jokes. Most of the other houses left him alone, though. The Slytherins were probably ashamed that their head of house had succeeded in saving Ron, instead of waiting until after he was eaten to start his defense of Hogwarts.
Not everyone in Gryffindor made jokes about the incident. Ginny was horrified by it, Harry ignored it, and Hermione felt guilty. She kept saying that she wished she had stopped him from talking in front of Snape before it was too late, so he wouldn't have been stuck in detention at all. Lavender was hardly speaking to anyone, but she told Ron that she was happy that he was alright, and she was sure that he'd been brave.
While Ron was mostly concerned with how the attack had affected him, the rest of the school seemed more concerned about how it would affect them. Students were in fear of being attacked. Professor Snape had announced that he was brewing an anti-arachnid potion, which would render the walls impregnable, while Valentin Vrag had announced that he was sharing his own secret spider-repellant with Dumbledore to ensure the students' safety. Whatever the reason, no further attacks shook the school. The Daily Prophet hazarded a guess that Severus Snape had managed to destroy the invading creature, whatever it might be, while the Quiddler speculated that when it realized it couldn't get its hands on Harry Potter, it had left in search of other prey.
No one stayed at school over the Yule holidays unless they had no other choice, or they were mental. Hermione fell into the latter category, as she was intent on completing some of her larger projects. Ron, against his better judgment, decided to stay with her. Harry and Ginny joined the group, as well. It was a much better Yule time than last year, although they decided to stay away from the walls and out of the dungeons. Neville hung around as well, and seemed completely oblivious to his role as the fifth wheel of the Gryffindor dormitory.
Ron spent every moment of the time that he could with Hermione. They weren't broom closet moments, though. Ron blamed Neville for that, but he also blamed himself. Hermione hadn't kissed him again like that since before their last fight, and he was starting to wonder if she would again, or if she had written it off as a mistake.
After all of the students got back, Dumbledore made an announcement about the Valentine's Ball. Ron looked at Hermione. She looked away -- Ron wondered what that meant. Did she want him to ask her, or not? He didn't want to ask and be turned down, but he couldn't wait until the last minute again. He was fairly sure that the Patil sisters wouldn't risk going out with him this time.
It only took him until the end of the meal to work up his courage to ask her. He snatched her hand while they were in the corridor after breakfast, and pulled her over to the side. "Look, Hermione, I know you probably don't want to go with me and all, but I wondered, if there weren't any internationally known Quidditch stars who've asked you out, if you would consider coming with me to the Ball."
"You know," she answered, "that's probably one of the longest sentences I've ever heard anyone utter. Even Colin Creevey can't usually go that long without a breath." She seemed to smile at Ron's tortured expression, but she quickly put him out of his misery. "Yes, I'll come with you Ron, of course." She kept hold of his hand, and they walked off.
January went by agonizingly fast. Ron had already outgrown last years' dress robes, and this year, he'd been stuck with second-hand robes again. He had already outgrown his brothers, and couldn't even make do with hand-me-downs anymore. He still didn't know how to dance, either.
When Valentine's Day arrived, Ron didn't want to leave his bed. He hadn't been able to buy anything for Hermione, and although he had written her a note, he couldn't send it. Harry had to threaten to levitate him downstairs in his dressing gown to get him to move. He kept trying to talk about what was bothering Ron, but Ron wouldn't say.
When Ron finally got downstairs, Hermione gave him a huge hug. She gushed, "They're beautiful!" She was holding a dozen roses in a bouquet bag under her left arm, and a small box of chocolates.
Ron started to stammer a protest, but Harry clapped his hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure he's glad you like them. I ordered the ones I got for Ginny from the same place."
Ron smiled weakly, taking the hint. "Yeah, I was really worried that you wouldn't think they were enough."
"No, Ron, it's the thought that counts. Ready for breakfast?"
"I'll be right down, I just need to show Harry something."
Harry looked anxious, but he followed Ron back up to their bedroom anyway, mostly because Ron had a tight grip on his arm. "Look, what do you think you're pulling?"
"You were falling apart because you couldn't get her some flowers. It was obvious. I just took care of it -- you can just not give me a Christmas present or something."
"Harry, you didn't even ask me. You put me in a position of lying to Hermione, who we both know is smarter than the two of us put together. She'll figure it out, and then she'll blame me."
"I know you don't like it when I help you out..."
"It's not helping me out, Harry. It's digging me a hole. I can do that for myself."
"Well, we'll just go down there, and tell her you didn't send her anything, and that will make it all better, won't it."
"No, wait a second. Harry, would you mind lending me the money to give Hermione flowers and candy?"
Harry was confused, "She's already got them."
"I know we're doing this backwards, but play along with me. Can I honestly tell Hermione that you lent me the money for her presents because I asked you?"
Harry nodded. He looked relieved that he wasn't going to end up in the middle of a fight with Ron. "On one condition," he said, tentatively.
"What is it?" Ron asked.
"Could you also tell her that I lent you the money for a pair of dress robes for tonight?"
"That would be great, but I don't have time to go shopping..." Ron trailed off as he saw Harry's grin. Harry reached into his chest, and pulled out a paper-wrapped parcel.
"So, we're even for now?" Harry asked.
Ron looked at him, not sure whether to thank him or hit him. He settled on thanking him, he could always slug him later. "Alright, Harry, we're even. I'll pay you back by Christmas, don't worry."
Harry gulped. The double meaning had apparently not gone unnoticed. "Great, now let's get down to breakfast, if we haven't missed it yet."
The Hall was decorated beautifully, with more extravagance than it had in any year since Lockhart had left. There were little cherubs flying around, and students were scurrying in fear of being shot with an arrow. Ron didn't see any flying projectiles, though.
They had no sooner sat down than the owls began to come through. Harry had at least a dozen valentines, most of which he handed over to Ginny to read. She looked alternately amused and affronted. Ron thought the whole idea was outdated, but he was no less jealous at the huge valentine, containing a large piece of chocolate, which came from Viktor Krum.
He was cheered, himself, by Hermione's frown at the owls that visited him. Two unsigned Valentines, one of which was obviously from Luna (the hinkypink repellant powder gave it away), and one signed card, from Lavender, arrived for him. He handed them all to her, and tried not to show any pleasure at them, taking a cue from Harry.
The day passed almost in a fog for Ron. None of the Professors seemed to be trying too hard to occupy the students, other than Snape. Professor Snape assigned three feet on an Anosmia potion. Fortunately, it was Friday, so it was unanimously decided not to worry about the assignment until after the Ball and tomorrow's Hogsmeade visit.
The robes that Harry had gotten Ron for the ball were great. Ron suspected that Ginny had helped pick them out, since Harry had never really shown any gift for high fashion. They didn't have any lace, and there was no trace of maroon. By the next day, though, he had forgotten them entirely, although he would never truly forget the way Hermione had looked.
Ron had already known that Hermione was beautiful, but it had been two years since he had seen her this dressed up, and she had changed in that time. Oh, my, had she changed. Her dress robes were a deep blue, and they were molded and cut in a way that skirted the edge of what propriety allowed for Hogwarts students.
Ron didn't remember much else of that night. He felt like he spent the whole time lost in her eyes. They danced for almost an hour, although it was more swaying to the music than true dancing. They talked outside, walking hand in hand. They kissed, more than once, stolen kisses in the garden and the corners of the dance hall, and a beautiful, impassioned kiss at the end of the date. Ron knew there were words to describe the way he felt, but he didn't know how to say them. All he knew was that he wanted to feel this way forever.
They spent most of the rest of the term together, almost sickeningly so. Ron avoided complaining about Harry and Ginny, and managed to avoid any serious fights with Hermione. Dumbledore's Army held regular meetings under Dumbledore's guidance. He was even passing Potions. Everything was perfect.
Until the last week of term.
Author's Notes:
I don't like saying, "Never" when it comes to stories that aren't complete, but I don't plan on having a true Lavender/Ron/Hermione love triangle -- Lavender might want something more with Ron than what she has, but I don't think Ron, as I've got him written, would act in a way that would keep the triangle alive. On the other hand, that doesn't mean that some of the characters won't think there's something going on. Or that things won't get messed up in a future book. Or that a reviewer's impassioned plea for more screen time for Lavender won't end up paying off. That's all I'm saying.
Also, yes, most of the in-jokes are intentional. If you don't see them, you need to read more fics.
I've skipped over a ton of time, because it didn't matter to the plot – if you want to know how the remaining Quidditch games went, or how much Ron and Hermione smooched between Valentine's and the end of the year, let me know, and I'll write outtakes.
A special thanks to everyone who's found the time to review so far. Your reviews are what keep me writing. Well, that and the fact that my beta is ready to strangle me for leaving her on a cliff-hanger.