Thanks to my new btea Ashleigh for editing this chapter so quickly. Also, thanks to Tiffie101for the kind review!
Chapter 6: Penser
Hermione slept badly that night. Once again, her roommates were conspicuously absent, thus felt no need to even feign sleep. Over and over she recounted her conversation with Dumbledore and Nye. She had been unable to do anything else for the rest of the day after the discussion; instead of trying to concentrate on Charms, Hermione spent the day in the Common Room, her books open on the table but her eyes not on the page.
Since making her resolution to pass the NEWTs and attend Barnabie, Hermione finally felt like she could redeem herself. Well, maybe not with the other students, she thought rather sadly, but that couldn't be helped.
Normally, when Hermione received a big project, she dove right in and would not come up for air until even she had outperformed her own expectations. Preparing for the NEWTs was arguably the biggest task she had ever been presented, but already a day had slipped by since the meeting and she had not even tried to study. Hermione couldn't explain why she suddenly couldn't stand to read a chapter in a book, but the Time Turner, being securely tucked under her robes, definitely added to her procrastination. After all, she now had all the time in the world, did she not?
After three days of sitting in solitude, the students were starting to give her strange looks. At least, they were less menacing than before. Hermione certainly looked a wreck. She hadn't showered, her clothes were rumpled, and her eyes were red and dry from all the sleepless nights. If someone had given her a bottle of butterbeer, she would have resembled no one so much as Winky on the downside of manic depression.
Having not ventured out of Gryffindor Tower all week, Hermione was unaware of how many teachers were getting concerned. Had she attended breakfast on the third day after the meeting, she would have witnessed Professor McGonagall being bombarded with questions about her welfare form all the other teachers. Well, from all save Snape, who was as impassive as ever.
Hermione found it difficult to sit still that day. It was Saturday, and impending exams insured that the majority of the Gryffindors spent the day inside, studying. No one paid any mind to Hermione, who sat slouched in an armchair with her back to the other students. Harry and Ron had glanced at her briefly before heading out the portrait hole, but Hermione didn't see them, and they made no move to approach her.
Hermione was getting antsy. It was a glorious day, and the never-ending drone of scratching quills, once a soothing sound, were making her crazy. After trying unsuccessfully to block out the noise, Hermione sighed, pushed herself out of the chair, and walked out the portrait hole.
She didn't have a particular destination in mind, but her legs, which had not been used much in recent weeks, were screaming for exercise. As she neared the Entrance Hall, the sweet smell of spring flowers and new grass filled her nose. Without further thought, Hermione pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped into the warm sunshine.
Outside, Hermione breathed deeply, and turned her head up towards the sky. The sun felt wonderful on her skin. A small smile flitted across her face. Glancing around, Hermione saw Hagrid standing outside his hut, and decided to drop by for a visit.
"'Ello, 'Ermione!" Hagrid beamed as she neared the edge of the forest. "'Ow 'ave yeh been?"
"Well, I've been better, but I'm getting along," Hermione said weakly. "How are you?"
"Eh, I'm fine. Erm, shouldn't yeh be studyin' fer yer exams?"
Hermione grinned at the irony of the statement. "I needed a break. Besides, it looked so nice out, I thought I'd take a walk. It might be the last time before, well..." She trailed off.
"Before yeh head off ter Barnabie," Hagrid put in knowingly. 'Look 'ere, 'Ermione, yer gonna be fine at that school; yeh've always done well with yer studies."
"Yes, I suppose," Hermione said stoically.
Hagrid surveyed her with a look that was scarily reminiscent of Dumbledore's omniscient twinkle. "I expect yer still upset about 'Arry an' Ron, eh?"
Hermione avoided his gaze. After an uncertain pause she sighed and said, "I just don't know how to talk to them anymore."
"Well, then, that's th' problem. Yeh've just gotta talk to 'em, simple as that. They'll listen to yeh if yeh try to make peace with 'em, 'Ermione."
Hermione shot him a look. "How do you know?"
"Ah, well, first o' all because you three've been friends ferever, and secon' because they've tol' me so."
"They told you so?" Hagrid nodded, trying not to smile at her shocked expression. "Well then, in that case, maybe I'd better go talk to them, yeah?" Hagrid nodded again. "Okay, then, I'll be going now. Hagrid, thanks so much!" Hermione gave him a hug before walking back up to the school, a slight spring in her step that had certainly not been there that morning. Hagrid chuckled to himself as her frizzy head disappeared from view.
* * *
Hermione could feel her heart pounding as she neared the library. Her thoughts were running a mile a minute. On the one hand, she didn't really believe that Hagrid would lie to her. On the other, she couldn't quite picture Harry and Ron welcoming her back with open arms, not after they way she had treated them. Her breath hitched as she realized that she might never fully resolve this with them. All too soon, she found herself in front of the library, as she half-humorously noted that one always seems to arrive quickly when one is dreading something.
She pulled open the doors and received a quick glance from Madam Pince, who avoided meeting her gaze and instead hastily left the front desk. Hermione nearly rolled her eyes. Honestly, she thought, you would think that the teachers would show some tact.
Hermione surveyed the room. A small cluster of Hufflepuffs was sitting by the window, apparently quizzing one another on Potions ingredients. Two Slytherins were gathering books from a shelf by the far wall, and several more were hastily flipping through the texts, obviously searching for something. Finally- Hermione gave a slight twitch- there were Harry and Ron, sitting at a table, heads bent as they scribbled on long rolls of parchment.
Gathering up her Gryffindor courage (Hermione snorted inwardly at the cliché), she approached the table where the boys sat. Standing several feet away, Hermione stopped and watched them for a few moments. Harry was muttering something about "backward flicks," to which Hermione interpreted that he was working on Charms. Ron was scratching his head and, glancing confusedly at the large, dusty book in front of him, pondered out loud, "D'you suppose that rat tails can be substituted for rabbit claws in this thing?"
That's my cue, thought Hermione. "Actually, Ron, you'd be better off using gerbil toenails for that, because they won't react with the octopus ink."
Ron started, and Harry dropped his quill. Saving them the agony of responding, Hermione simply asked, "May I sit down?"
Both boys nodded mutely. Hermione looked at the pair of them and fought to suppress a grin. They looked almost comical, sitting there with identical looks of confusion on their faces. She smiled slightly, and said, "I think we need to talk." A pause, and then, "First of all, I'm sorry for what happened when I was in the Hospital Wing."
Ron's face clouded over. He made to speak, but Hermione held up a hand. "Let me finish. As I was saying, I'm sorry I acted so improperly about Ginny's death. I had only just woken up and was rather confused at the time, and I couldn't understand why you two looked so stricken. I didn't mean to upset either of you further."
Silence. Then, "We're sorry, too, Hermione. We should have been more supportive. We were upset, though."
Hermione gave Harry an apologetic smile. "I know, Harry. I was just so, well, out of it that I didn't even realize I was in the Hospital Wing, let alone why."
Ron looked thoughtful for a minute. "You really didn't know about, err, Ginny?" He looked as if he might cry, so Hermione put her hand over his.
"No, I really didn't remember until after you mentioned it. But then you left, and I was forced to remember everything, and... It was horrible. Ron, I'm so sorry." The last part was whispered, and Hermione found her eyes becoming blurry with tears.
Ron sniffled and looked down. 'S'okay, Hermione."
Hermione shook her head. "No, it's not okay. I wasn't there for either of you."
"Yeah, well, we weren't exactly supportive ourselves, we were Ron?" Harry asked unnecessarily. 'We should have been there while you were recovering-"
"We wanted to come in again, Hermione, but we didn't think you wanted to see us." Ron said bluntly. "And besides, Dumbledore told everyone to stay away from the Hospital Wing for a while."
Despite herself, Hermione grinned. "And when has that ever stopped you before, Ronald Weasley?" She gave his hair a playful tug, and he grimaced.
"Okay, so we should have come in. We're really sorry, Hermione."
"Oh, that's okay. I acted pretty stupid, too."
"We all acted dumb," Harry said. "But that makes us all even. Friends?" He held out his hand to Hermione. She looked at him warily, then jumped across the table and crushed him in a hug, sobbing incoherent phrases all the while. Harry, slightly red in the face, patted her back and did his best to pry her hands off his back. Grinning, Hermione reached out and pulled Ron into the hug, and whispered into both their ears, "Wow, I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat."
Ron smiled. "I could go for that."
* * *
The trio sat together on the floor of Hermione's abandoned dorm, munching on sandwiches they had swiped from the kitchens after leaving the library. All three agreed that the looks they had been given in the hallways were rather amusing; some people had simply glared, and others had smiled and waved. But, as Ron pointed out, "Having Harry around can't hurt, Hermione. If anything, it means that all the girls will like you again." Hermione threw a pillow at Ron, which he ducked, and instead it hit Harry squarely in the face.
Hermione felt happier than she had in days. She had her best friends back, after all, and somehow everything seemed easier to face. True, she had not yet told them about her plans to go to Barnabie, and Dumbledore's warning about how no one must know reverberated through her mind every time she tried to formulate a reasonable explanation. But, so far, the boys had not pushed her for any information, which Hermione suspected was because Harry had warned Ron not to press her; Ron was looked ever-more like he was about to burst with curiosity, but he made a wonderful effort not to show it.
Hermione stood up and stretched. Crookshanks waddled over and she bent down, scratching him behind the ears; his meowing shows his approval. "Sorry, Crooks, I know I've been ignoring you lately." Crookshanks gave a growl in agreement and wandered away, tail in the air but looking distinctly less depressed.
Hermione turned to Harry and Ron, who looked at her expectantly. She sighed inwardly; this was not going to be easy. "I'll be honest with you two. I don't know where to begin."
"Well, the beginning would be nice," Ron joked, but quickly shut up at Harry's stern glare.
Hermione sat up straighter. Here goes nothing, she thought. "Well, you both saw what happened that night in the Great Hall. Basically, Dumbledore thinks that I need some special training, so I don't lose control again, and he wants me to do it over the summer."
She waited nervously, hoping that her explanation would suffice. Please, she prayed silently to whatever gods might be listening, please don't let them ask too many questions. I'm a terrible liar.
Harry broke the silence first. "So... So you're not coming to the Burrow or Grimmauld Place this summer? We're not going to see you at all?"
Hermione shook her head. "Dumbledore thinks it's best, harry. We have to trust him."
Ron nodded, but still looked rather disturbed about something. 'What I don't get, Hermione, is what exactly happened back there in the Hall. I remember a lot of light, and then I was Stunned or something..."
"Well, that's why Dumbledore wants me to have the additional training. He isn't sure what it is either, so he wants me to find out, I guess."
Ron nodded his understanding. "Yeah, I suppose that if Dumbledore says so, we have to listen to him, eh?"
Hermione felt relieved. She had decided, on a spur-of-the-moment idea, that she would make it sound like Dumbledore would be the one who was training her. That way, the boys could honestly say that they didn't know where she was if- she shuddered- if someone got a hold of them. Hopefully she would have a chance to tip off the Headmaster about her insinuation before the boys got too inquisitive. Naturally, this would make exchanging letters slightly more difficult, and she didn't know how she would explain the fact that she wouldn't be at Hogwarts in September. She put it out of her mind, deciding to first get through the summer before crossing that particular hurdle.
* * *
Dinner that evening was fairly enjoyable, Hermione thought. Many people had noticed her presence at the Gryffindor table, but Harry and Ron whispered words of encouragement ("Ignore them, Hermione, and they'll stop sooner or later.") and she was able to make it through the meal with few comments. Afterwards, she had excused herself, claiming fatigue, and wandered back through the deserted hallways to her table in the Common Room.
Hermione surveyed the unopened books with a faint look of disgust. What had she been thinking? Oh, that's right, she hadn't been thinking at all. Well, she would just have to make up for lost time. After all, NEWTs were less than a month away, and she had some serious studying to do if she were going to pass.
Yawning, Hermione ran a hand through her tangled hair. Yuck, she thought. I definitely could use a serious shampooing. Glancing once more at her unopened books, Hermione stifled another mammoth yawn and decided that her studying could wait until tomorrow; she needed to get clean first.
In her room, she dumped her books haphazardly on her bed. She grabbed her robe and some clean clothes, along with some candles and her favorite Arithmancy text. Shoving all these items in her now-empty schoolbag and left for the Prefect's bathroom. Once there, she locked and warded the door, placed the candles around the enormous tub, and lit them. She also cast a spell to play soft music in the background; in the mood for relaxation, she picked some of her favorite Mozart piano concertos.
Hermione quickly discarded her soiled clothing. Kneeling by the edge of the tub, she turned on the taps and allowed herself to be hypnotized by the undulating surfaces of the many bubbles that emitted from the spouts. When the tub had filled, she slipped off her robe and slid into the water, sighing happily as the warmth penetrated her tired body.
She lay with her head against the edge of the tub for quite some time, allowing the sounds of flowing water intertwined with soft instrumentals to release the tension from her body. Groggily reaching for her wand, she charmed the Arithmancy book to float in front of her so she could read without getting the precious pages wet.
After ten pages, however, Hermione found her mind wandering to other matters. After a few more minutes fruitless attempts to concentrate, she Banished the book with a flick of her wrist and lay back again, closing her eyes to the soft light of the candles. Her mind drifted to Harry and Ron, and she smiled slowly as she once again assured herself that everything was indeed well between the three of them. A pang of worry surfaced: what if they were to pry too much about her summer plans and she spilled something? Well, if that happened, she reasoned, they could always be Obliviated. She giggled at the thought of what Ron's countenance might resemble if he lost his memories- probably something close to Lockhart, she mused, only with slightly less of a pout, and slightly more innocent. Sighing, Hermione realized that she should probably wash herself while she daydreamed; after all, wasn't that the reason for the bath in the first place?
Hermione shampooed her hair thoroughly, grimacing at the thought of how many tangles she would have to work out. Applying liberal amounts of conditioner, she commenced to scrub her back with a brush as she continued to reminisce.
For some odd reason, Snape's face popped into her mind as she recalled Ron's earlier question about rats' tails. She could clearly picture his face as she ran out of the dungeons, and she wondered how he would receive the news of her permanent departure. She sniggered. He would probably be overjoyed, she mussed. He might even smile, although on second though, nah, his face might crack, she though wickedly. Then the amusing image of Snape picking up his large nose off the floor and smushing it back onto his face caused her to go into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. But the laughter slowly turned to quiet sobs as Hermione realized that she would even miss seeing Snape's scowling face while she was away. She had never really thought about how she would fare outside of Hogwarts, because she had always assumed that she would have her friends there to help her out. But the truth of the matter was that although they could write and perhaps even visit, she was going to have to get through Barnabie very much alone. The thought was frightening, and suddenly the peaceful bath was unsettling.
Hermione climbed out of the tub hastily, and dried herself off without much care. One glance in the mirror confirmed that her hair was indeed a mess, but she simply wrapped it up in a towel and threw on her robe, deciding to tackle her disastrous curls once she got back to the dorms. She blew out the candles, gathered her things (again, taking care not to get the book wet- even in her wary state, she was still careful with texts), and left the bathroom.
The halls were as silent as they had been after dinner, and now the flickering light of the torches pierced the darkness. Hermione shivered in her thin robe; she should get back to her room and get dressed before she caught cold. Quickening her pace, she traveled through the deserted corridors, keeping one ear out for Mrs. Norris, who would surely smell her with all the perfumed soap she had used.
The towel slipped from her head, and Hermione simply pulled it off her head. On the wall, the head of her shadow now appeared to be sprouting a prickly bush, which added another three feet of height to her petite stature. She laughed nervously, but composed herself quickly and continued on her journey.
She had rounded the corner to the Tower entrance, when she spotted someone lurking down the corridor, right in front of the fat lady's portrait. Hermione slid behind a statue and pressed herself up against the wall. The figure abruptly turned and started stalking down the corridor in her direction. Hermione held her breath.
As the person neared her, she could see that he was clad in long, black robes that draped across the floor. She gasped as she realized that this was none other than Snape, and by the looks of it, he was intent on catching someone out of bed. Hermione shuddered slightly as he swept past her. She could well imagine what would happen if he were to catch her in the hallways at this hour, wearing nothing more than a thin robe, her hair a royal mess, and smelling like a flower factory. As Snape glided down the hallway, Hermione silently thanked the gods that she was small enough to fit behind the statue. Snape rounded the corner, and Hermione sighed in relief.
She stepped out from behind the statue and was making her way down the corridor when-
"Miss Granger!" Snape's icy voice startled her so much that she dropped her book. It clattered to the floor, and the noise echoed in the silent hallway. "Just what do you think you're doing?"
Hermione looked up at Snape. He looked even worse in the dark, she decided. His hair was, if possible, even greasier in the torchlight, and his long nose stood out prominently amidst the shadows of his other features. "I was just taking a bath, sir," she replied nervously.
"Indeed," Snape sniffed. "And what do you think gives you the right to be out at this hour?"
"N-nothing, sir," she stuttered in reply.
Snape smirked at her in triumph. "That's right, girl, nothing gives you that right. Perhaps detention would put that rule back in your mind?. Tomorrow night, seven o'clock, and don't even think about being late."
"Y-Yes sir," she stammered, half relieved that he was letting her off so easy. But she thought too soon, because as Snape turned to leave, he said smoothly, "And fifty points from Gryffindor. Forty for being out after curfew, and another ten for being wet." Snape eyed her wild locks in displeasure. "Miss Granger, I trust you will be able to do something about the state of your hair?"
Hermione blushed, and ignored the irony. "Yes sir."
Snape gave her one final glare. "Get back to bed."
Hermione turned and practically ran back into Gryffindor Tower. She threw her bundle of items on the floor and crawled under the blankets, shaking but infinitely glad to be away from Snape and his snide tone.