Snape's revelation that he wanted none of her help had come as no surprise to Hermione. She walked quickly down the corridor, scheming ways to search for a daughter whose name she didn't know, whose mother was a mystery woman named Arial, and whose entire life was little more than a great enigma. All she knew was that she had brown hair, green eyes, freckles, and would be about sixteen years old. And she did not have Snape's nose.
She decided that she would have to be even more discrete in her search now, so as not to arouse Snape's suspicions. She had a feeling that he would be carefully monitoring her activity, even if this supervision came only in the subtlest of ways. She would have to exercise great care not to make him aware of her actions.
She pondered her next steps. It seemed the most logical thing for her to do was to start with the three possible candidates she and Ginny had discovered in the yearbook. She wondered what exactly she would do to find out the information that she needed about them. Even the questions seemed like a point of deliberation. It was all quite frustrating, really.
She walked through the portrait hole, deeply lost in thought. The fire in the hearth of Gryffindor tower was growing dim, but she felt a smile creep across her face at the sight of Ron, Harry, and Ginny, all of whom appeared to be waiting up for her. Ron jumped to his feet. "Hermione, you're back early," he exclaimed.
"Snape said that he was tired of being punished by punishing me. He told me not to come back tomorrow night."
"That's great!" Ron said.
Hermione looked at him incredulously. "I guess so," she said. "I mean, I didn't want to go back there, but it wouldn't have been a big deal if I had had to. It was just one more night, after all."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Hermione, don't you ever mark anything in your calendar that doesn't have to do with studying or homework."
"No."
"Tomorrow's another Hogsmeade trip," Ginny explained. "Now that Snape gave up on your detentions, you can go."
Hermione smiled slightly. She could use a trip out of the castle. Maybe a day off would help her to think better. She had a slight moment of gratitude to Snape. Students serving punishments for any kind of disciplinary infraction weren't allowed to visit Hogsmeade. She could also look for brunette girls with green eyes and freckles while they were there.
The other three began planning their day while Hermione began scheming how to find Snape's daughter. Suddenly, the task seemed very daunting. She could feel her head throbbing as she wondered how she would know if she did find the girl.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" Ron asked, his mood abruptly changing from lighthearted to genuinely concerned.
"Nothing," she said quietly. She couldn't tell them. She bit her lip, trying to hold the words back. It would be so much easier if she could just get some help. For all their childishness, Harry and Ron, she knew, would remain dutifully silent and Ginny could always be counted on to keep a secret. After all, no one aside from the four of them, Snape and Dumbledore were any the wiser about Harry's relationship with Snape.
"Hermione," Ginny said, "you know that you can tell us."
Could she tell them? What would she think if she were in Snape's position? It was bad enough for one of his students to know, but for four? She knew what he would think. Still, even after his assertions that he had no desire for either family or friends, Hermione felt that if he could only have the chance to be a part of his daughter's life, he would think differently.
"Did he do something to you," Harry said, his eyes clouding over with anger. "If he did.."
"Oh stop it," Hermione said. "He didn't do anything to me." She could tell them. It would be so easy just to let the little secret slide out. She needed help. She had to know, and she didn't think she could do it on her own. She didn't even know where to begin.
Of course there was a more reasonable side to this. If she didn't know where to begin and couldn't accomplish her objective without assistance, perhaps she should just leave well enough alone. She considered that. That was what Snape said he wanted. It was so tempting though. She could feel her hands flexing as she felt the possibilities course through her body. Just thinking of the quest that could be ahead was like an adrenaline rush of sorts. A mystery that required intensive thoughtful research was right up her ally.
The three who had been waiting for her return sat close to her, staring as if in anticipation of any word that would come pouring from her mouth. They were hanging on her every breath. For that moment, four worlds converged into one, all waiting for Hermione to speak. They wanted her to share in the secret that she held within. She needed them to help her extract these skeletons from the long shut closet. Who was she to deny want and need?
Her voice trembled, and she found herself unable to speak. Was she really going to do it? For a moment, she felt nothing but trepidation. It seemed wrong, somehow to make Snape's private life public. Even so, she could hardly stand to hold it inside any longer. They would find out eventually anyway, she argued with herself. Her lie about vandalism to the lavatory could only last so long. What would she say when she began searching beyond the walls of the school? How many stories could she balance at once? The essence of veracity was in it's clarity of detail. She had a feeling her stories would become murkier and murkier, time and human error melding them together, letting everyone know that something was not quite right.
"Snape has a daughter," she said suddenly. After she said the words, she was not entirely certain that she had meant to, and for a brief moment wished even that she could take them back. What was done was done, however. She had long since stopped using the time-turner. She took a deep breath. She would have to deal with the consequences of her actions now. "He doesn't know her. He doesn't know her name or where she lives or whom she lives with or even where she lives. Her mother's name is Arial Dora, but I suppose that that doesn't really mean anything. She should be about sixteen. She has brown hair, green eyes, and freckles."
The three of them just started at her as though she had suddenly sprouted an additional head. Hermione felt sick to her stomach. She shouldn't have told them. Why had she talked herself into taking the easy way out? She had chosen her burden, and she should have forced herself to bear it alone. "Please," she said, "you can't tell anyone."
Ginny shook her head, as did Harry. "No way we would, 'Mione," said Ron. He touched her arm and then jerked his hand away, blushing.
"I suppose you're looking for her, then?" Ginny said.
"Yes. No one really did anything to the bathroom. I was just using that as an excuse to look for someone and to get help finding them without having to do any explaining. I was thinking, though, that I wouldn't know how to recognize this girl even if I saw her." That wasn't entirely true, but she wasn't going to let them in on everything she knew. There was the matter of the circular birthmark on the girl's leg, but somehow she felt it would be in poor taste to simply walk up to someone and ask if she could have a look at their leg.
"We'll come up with something," Ron said confidently. Hermione doubted that he felt as certain as his voice sounded, but she didn't say anything. She appreciated any help she could get.
"I just don't know what to say when I see someone who might be a likely candidate," she said. "I mean, it would be awfully odd to have someone walk up to you and ask what your mother's name is. That's all I really have to go on right now."
"Was her mother a witch?" Ginny asked.
"Yes. She went to Beaux Batons, and the Tree said that Arial left Snape because her father held a huge opposition to the Dark Arts. I would think that he would have had to have been a wizard also, then."
"Well, at least we could ask if the girls we found are muggle born. If any of them are, that would eliminate them," Ginny reasoned.
"I suppose," said Hermione. It was a start, but not a very good one. It was better than walking up to students she hardly knew and asking them their mother's name, though.
Ginny excused herself and headed off to bed, telling her older friends and siblings that she would see them all in the morning. Ron too headed off to his dormitory. Hermione and Harry were left alone in the common room.
"It's very odd," Harry said.
"What is?" Hermione asked after he didn't say anything else.
"All of the time I was growing up, I was stuck with people who couldn't have cared less about me and hated me for what I was. I didn't have anyone else. Now, thanks to you, all of these relatives I don't even want keep popping up. Not only is Snape my uncle, I also have an aunt of sorts and a cousin."
Hermione didn't know what to say.
"I just wish you would have left that Tree alone sometimes is all. I think my life was better before I knew I was related to Snape and whoever his daughter is." Harry looked somewhat resentful, and she tried to ignore the blade of anger that came knifing through her again as it seemed to do so easily these days.
She thought about explaining, yet again, that she had been trying to help him by talking to the Tree, and that she had intended not to tell him in the first place; he had been the one to barge in one her and Snape. She decided against it. What's the point? She thought. They had just tentatively renewed their friendship, and though she still wasn't sure that she forgave him for his childish behavior she didn't want to demolish the fragile relationship they had so recently rebuilt.
Hermione patted him slightly on the back and stood to retire to her bed. She didn't have anything to say to him right now. She wasn't sorry, and she didn't understand how he thought that all of his selfish moroseness was going to improve the situation. She thought it was best for her to just leave and avoid another battle. It was late, and she was tired.
"Hermione?" Harry called just before she began to ascend the stairs.
"Yes?"
"I want to help, it's just hard, you know?'
"Goodnight, Harry," she said. She could only understand in a vague way, but in this case she considered that an advantage. Harry's past wasn't something she ever wanted to be able to identify with.
* * *
The next day dawned bright and sunny. Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Harry met for breakfast and then headed to the carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade for the day. "I have to do a project for my muggle studies class next month," Ginny said. "I'll just act like I'm going to start working on it right now and that I'm gathering information. I can ask anyone we see who might be a possible candidate for Snape's daughter if they're muggle born. I'll just say that I'm doing a survey about something."
"Good idea," Hermione said. Though she still felt terrible that she had been weak willed enough to let Snape's secret slip out, she was grateful that she would have help getting to the bottom of this mystery. It would have been terribly difficult to do it alone, and even worse would have been to always have to make up excuses for her seemingly peculiar actions.
"I can't believe Snape has a daughter," Ron hooted cheerfully. "It just doesn't seem possible, does it? He's so terrible. It's probably a good thing she didn't know him when she was a baby. Imagine how frightening it would be to wake up and see him standing over your crib."
"Ron!" Hermione was horrified at how insensitive he was. "That is the most unsympathetic thing I have ever heard you say. He didn't choose not to be a part of his daughter's life! Maybe he would have been an entirely different man if Arial hadn't been so horrible to him and left him!"
Ron blushed. "He's still horrible," he murmured, though his tone had little conviction in it.
They finished the ride in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione still had her doubts over the whole process. She didn't even know where to start, really. Everything was so complicated, and it was made even worse by the fact that she didn't even know if she was doing what was really the right thing, or if she was acting simply to abate her own curiosity. What if Snape still wanted nothing to do with his daughter? What I they found her and it traumatized her top know that Snape was her father? What if Arial came back and hurt him again? Suddenly, she felt as though she may have taken on something that was far less clear cut than she had originally envisioned it to be.
The two boys ran off to Zonko's almost immediately. Ron made the excuse that he and Harry would just be in the way while Ginny was faking her interviews. They swore that they would help out later, and arranged to meet the girls in the Three Broomsticks in three and a half hours. Hermione rolled her eyes, but was actually grateful that they had left. The two of them weren't always the most subtle or tactful people she knew. She shuddered as she imagined them staring down anyone her and Ginny approached to interview, looking for traces of Snape.
"What are you going to do if you do find Snape's daughter?" Ginny asked as soon as she and Hermione were alone.
"I was just thinking about that in the carriage," Hermione admitted ruefully. "To tell you the truth, I don't know. Maybe Snape's right, as much as I hate to say so. Maybe I would be better off just to leave things the way they are and forget everything that the Tree ever told me about anything."
"I don't think so," said Ginny. "I didn't like the idea of you talking to that thing in the first place, but now that you have you have to deal with what it said to you. Do you really think that the right thing to do would just be to walk away now?" Hermione shrugged, and Ginny looked appalled. "Hermione, I know that you really don't think that. If you did, you wouldn't have told Ron and Harry and me about Snape's secret. You would have kept it to yourself and forgotten about it."
Hermione sighed. The way she felt was very complicated, which always made for difficulty when putting something into words. "If it were me, I would want to know," she said. "I just don't know how Snape is going to feel about the whole thing. In case you haven't noticed, he and I are quite different."
Ginny smiled. "I have noticed that Hermione. You're right, you and Snape wouldn't react to the same situations in the same ways. I think, though, that if he were given a chance to meet his daughter he would think differently. You said this morning that Arial left after she told him she was pregnant. He never got the chance to know his daughter. It's not the same thing as if he had been the one to leave. Maybe he just needs a chance."
Hermione still had her doubts. How she wished she had kept her big mouth shut! "Why was he so adamant that he didn't want me searching for anymore answers, then?"
Ginny thought for a moment. "You know, as much as we all hate Snape, he is a person. Maybe he didn't want to think that you were out there searching. Maybe he didn't want to get his hopes up because, realistically, there's not much of a chance of us ever finding his daughter. Maybe he doesn't want to be hurt again."
"He said he wants to be alone."
"Maybe he wouldn't think that if he had somebody he thought was worth being with in his life." Ginny stared thoughtfully at Hermione, and the older girl nodded.
"Okay, then. I guess we should start looking," Hermione said. "I have a feeling that this is going to take a while.
* * *
Harry and Ron had already grabbed a table and had the butterbeers waiting by the time Hermione and Ginny arrived at the Three Broomsticks that afternoon. "Did you find anything," Ron asked eagerly. Harry looked as though he hoped that they would say no. Hermione wasn't going to disappoint the latter.
"Nothing," she said. 'We went through all three of the girls we saw in the yearbook. The two Ravenclaws were muggleborn. Hannah Abbot can trace her family back, on both sides, for generations. She also says that she looks just like her father's sister.
"How'd you get that out of her?" asked Ron. "I thought Gin was just going to say that she was doing a survey."
"Hannah likes to talk," said Ginny. "As soon as I said 'family', she was off and running."
"Oh."
"Harry, what's the matter," Hermione asked.
"Nothing."
"you look upset," Ginny agreed.
"It's nothing, I said." Harry growled. "I just think that this is a stupid waste of time. I can tell you, from personal experience, no one in their right mind would want to find out that they were related to Snape."
"Harry, come on. This is different," Ron chimed in. "This is his daughter, mate! Hermione told us this morning that Arial ran away to live with a Dark Wizard! Maybe she would rather have Snape as her father. He might actually be better."
Harry looked incredulous. "So now you think Snape isn't a Dark Wizard?"
This conversation always exasperated Hermione. "Harry, for the last time, he's in the Order. Dumbledore trusts him. He may have been a Deatheater once, but he isn't anymore. You know that as well as I do." Harry glared, but said nothing more. "Anyway," Hermione continued, having changed her earlier tune after her talk with Ginny, "I think we have to find his daughter. Or at least we have to try."
"think about it, mate," Ron said enthusiastically. "You'll have a cousin other than Dudley!"
"Great," said Harry in a way that conveyed the fact that he thought there was nothing great about it.
"he's hopeless,' Ginny said, waving Harry aside. "Let him pout into his butterbeer. We have to think about our next step."
Ron looked torn between ignoring his very best friend and working on a solution to finding Snape's daughter with the two girls. In the end, however, Harry's gloomy mood drove him away from his attempts to cheer him.
"I think we should get in contact with Beaux batons," Hermione suggested. She had been thinking heavily about doing just that the night before, and wanted to get an opinion on the matter from her friends. "we should ask for any information they have concerning Arial."
"That's a great idea," Ginny said. "Maybe they have a way to get in contact with Arial herself, or we could at least find out who her parents are! If we could find that out, they might be able to tell us how to reach her."
"She ran away from them, Ginny. Remember?" Ron said.
"Ron, that was nearly twenty years ago. Things could have changed between now and then." Ginny scowled distastefully at her older brother.
Hermione pulled a piece of parchment from her bag and began writing a request for information to the Beaux Batons School of Magic. When she had finished, the others read it over and pronounced it fit for sending. While the others finished their butterbeers,. Hermione headed for the owl post office. She paid out the fee, and sent an owl on its way.
"Now all we have to do is wait," Ginny said cheerfully upon her return. To Hermione, she seemed overly confident that this was the definitive solution to solving the mystery. Hermione had a feeling there was still a long road ahead.
Harry spoke up for the first time since Ginny had waved him off back in the Three Broomsticks. "I hope we're doing the right thing," he said.
No one answered him. Ron and Ginny looked absolutely certain that what they were doing was justified. Hermione, like Harry, had her doubts but still felt that there was nothing really wrong with their actions, and that all things would work for the best if their investigation led them to anywhere. Besides that, she felt that Harry really didn't have much room to talk about the immorality of sneaking about behind people's backs searching for information. In her opinion, that was more than a trifle hypocritical.
* * *
Hermione sighed into her glass of pumpkin juice, waiting for the owl post to arrive. It had been nearly two weeks since she had sent her inquiry to Beaux batons, yet she still had not received any reply. Her hope of ever finding Snape's daughter was growing increasingly thin.
Suddenly, she heard the flutter of wings as a bevy of owls flew into the great hall. Eagerly, she looked up, hoping that today would at last be the day. She was not disappointed. "Open it," Ginny whispered loudly, her voice ripe with impatience.
"Not here," Hermione said. "I can't open this in front of everyone. Somebody might see it by accident, or it might get confiscated."
"Why would anything you have get confiscated, Granger?"
That voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Hermione had hoped that after the punishment McGonnagle had given Malfoy he would just leave her alone. He had succeeded in doing so until just then.
"Get away from our table, Malfoy," Ron sneered. He still hadn't gotten over Malfoy's shouting out about he and Hermione. "You have to be a Gryffindor to sit here."
"Why would I want to sit with the Weasel King and his court?" Malfoy looked up and down the length of his table. "Pathetic, really. I was just passing by monitoring the distribution of the mail, sacrificing my breakfast to ensure peace and order like any good prefect would. I heard Granger say that she got something that would be confiscated if she opened it here. I think that maybe I should report that to my head of house, don't you?"
"I think that you should mind your own business." Ron stood up, his knuckles clenched against the table. "Go back over to Slytherin where you belong. I don't know why you decided to come sneaking around over here, but get lost." Ron was nearly shouting now, and Hermione shot him a look that told him to tone it down.
"Gentlemen, is there a problem?" Malfoy froze at the sound of that rigid voice. Hermione had no doubt that he had intended, for whatever reason, Draco had intended to cause a confrontation between Ron and himself. She could also see, by the look of surprise on his face, that he had intended for Snape to come and clear things up. He hadn't counted on McGonnagle reaching them first.
"Malfoy came sneaking over here to see what we got in the mail, Professor," Harry said. "We asked him to leaver and he wouldn't. He just wants to cause trouble."
McGonnagle turned sharply to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, why aren't you at your own table? It is not your job to monitor student mail."
"Granger said that whatever she received would be confiscated if she opened it," Malfoy said, changing the subject.
"Go back to your table, Mr. Malfoy," McGonnagle repeated. Malfoy walked off, glaring at Ron over his shoulder, then smirking evilly at Hermione. "What do you have, Miss Granger?"
"It's just a letter, Professor. There's nothing illegal in it. I just don't want to open it here. 's very private, and I don't want anyone else reading it."
McGonnagle stared down at the envelope which had the Beaux Batons crest embossed on it. She frowned slightly. "Miss granger, if the curriculum here at Hogwarts is not difficult enough for you, I assure you that we can make some sort of arrangement. I would like very much for you to graduate from this school. I will see to it personally that you are challenged enough,"
Hermione wanted to laugh. "It's not that, Professor. I was just corresponding with my pen pal. My parents want me to learn to speak French more fluently, and I thought that the best way for me to do that would be to write to another Witch living in France."
McGonnagle looked very relieved. "Oh, I see."
Hermione continued on with her lie, " I just didn't want anyone else to get all of the information in here. I asked her for some advice, and some of the things she wrote might be very personal. It could be very embarrassing if it were read by anyone other than me."
McGonnagle seemed satisfied with that answer. "Very well then, Miss Granger. I will talk to Professor Snape about Mr. Malfoy."
"Thank you."
Hermione rose from the table, the other three following suit. She headed back for Gryffindor tower with Ron and Harry. Ginny had class during their free period, and Hermione absolutely refused to allow her to skip it. "The letter will still be here when you're done," she had said. "Besides, I'm a prefect. I have to write up students who skip class, I can't be an instrument in their being able to skip." Ginny had pouted for a moment, and then headed for her classes with the rest of the Gryffindor Fifth Years.
They decided that the best place to open this would be in Ron and Harry's bedroom. They looked all around, making sure that Neville, Seamus and Dean were no where to be found. Hermione locked the door, and then slowly and carefully tore open the envelope from Beaux Batons.
Hermione stared down at the printed words. She understood that there was only so much the school could give her because of the regulations regarding confidentiality. Still, there was little here that would help her. Arial's mother was a muggle. Her father's name was being withheld for her safety. She had graduated first in her class. She had never attended any of the class reunions. The last known address for her was in Romania. Hermione shared a disappointed look with the other two boys. It seemed as though they had reached another dead end.
"That's it?" Ron said incredulously, grabbing the envelope from Hermione. "There has to be something else! They couldn't have sent that owl back with nothing. This is rubbish!" He pried open the sides of the envelope and began vigorously shaking it. He held it up over his head to peer inside and a small square fell out and hit him in the eye. "Ow!" he cried, cupping his face in his hands.
"Quit your whining, Ron," Harry said, bending over to pick up the object which had slid underneath his bed and out of sight. He held it up in the air, staring at it.
"What is it," asked Hermione, whose was torn between curiosity and sympathy for Ron. "Ron, are you quite all right?"
"Fine. I love it when my eyes nearly gets poked out."
"It's a picture of Arial from her Seventh Year." Ron stopped whimpering and leapt off the floor, all thoughts of his damaged ocular organ forgotten. Hermione moved in even closer. The two of them were nearly suffocating Harry.
"She's quite beautiful, isn't she?" Hermione said after a long moment. Arial had long cascading blonde curls and light blue eyes that shone with a vivid intelligence. She had a hard look about her, if you looked closely enough, as though she had seen too much and would have rather forgotten most of it. Even so, she seemed almost to shine.
Ron and Harry looked as though they had been struck speechless. Ron looked at Harry jealously. "How come I don't have any aunts that look like that?"
"She's not my aunt, not really," Harry said crossly. "What I want to know is how Snape could get a girl like that to fall in love with him. I thought that she would be all greasy, like him."
Hermione gave him a reproachful look, but, truthfully, she had been thinking much the same thing. This girl looked much different than what she had been expecting. She knew, though, that looks could be deceiving.
"Anyone who saw her would remember her," Ron said. "I guess that's something."
Hermione had to agree. "Well," she said at last, "I guess that's a start."
* * *
The three of them showed Ginny the picture of Arial that evening in the Gryffindor common room. "She is beautiful," Ginny admitted. "I think that you guys are right. At least someone might remember seeing her."
"I think that we should make some copies of this and send to a few people in the Order," Hermione suggested. "We'll tell them to keep things fairly quiet so Snape won't find out. They have people all over the world. Maybe someone has seen her."
"I'll make some for mum to give out right away," Ginny said.
"We could ask some of the teachers, too," Ron chimed in.
Hermione frowned. 'I don't know if that's such a good idea, Ron. At least Snape isn't always doing things for the Order. In fact, I think he tries to avoid the headquarters as much as possible. If we start passing this around the school, he's bound to at least hear about it even if he doesn't see it. I think we should hold off a little on that."
Ron looked slightly wounded, but agreed.
Hermione and Ron left Ginny and Harry behind to copy the pictures as they headed out to do their rounds. Harry seemed far more acquiescent to helping them in their quest after he had seen the picture of Arial. Hermione didn't dare remind him that that picture was twenty years old, and that a lot of things could have changed between now and then.
"Good thing I saw that picture," Ron congratulated himself yet again. Hermione tried not to roll her eyes. All day he had been hinting for her to acknowledge that, had it not been for him, the picture would not have been found so quickly. She had grudgingly done so a few times, but was quickly growing weary of this game. She ignored him.
"I wonder what McGonnagle said to Snape about Malfoy. I hope he at least got a few points taken away from Slytherin."
"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Ron, "That Malfoy suddenly decided that your mail was worth reading?"
"No."
"Why?"
"When I went to the post office in Hogsmeade to send the owl to Beaux Batons, Malfoy was in there checking on the rate of postage for having his robes sent home. He wanted his mother and father to buy him new ones, because he said that the houseelves don't do a good enough job of cleaning the ones he already has. He was telling Crabbe that if he let his parents see the state his robes were in they would be sure to provide him with fresh ones, and would talk to Dumbledore about the laundry service here at school. I told him to get a life, and he got angry with me. I tried to hide the letter from him, but he grabbed it out of my hands and read the address it was being shipped to. I'm not surprised that he wanted to find out what the reply was so he could see what the letter had been about."
"Oh. I though maybe Snape had something to do with it." Ron looked almost disappointed.
Hermione turned to him witheringly. "I don't know about you, Ron, but I think that it's far better for Malfoy to have come up with that little scheme on his own than to have had Snape put him up to it. As this point, that would mean that Snape has some idea as to what we're doing. If he finds out, we might as well call the whole thing off, because he won't let us get much further."
"I didn't mean that I wanted him to know."
"Then why did you act like it was such a great disappointment to find out that he had nothing to do with it?'
For this he had no answer. The two of them walked along in silence, catching only one pair of rule breakers for having a public display of affection in the hallway after hours. Hermione wrote up two slips, one for the PDA and one for the curfew violation. Dean Thomas tried to argue that his kissing Cho Chang couldn't really be called 'public' since only the Prefects had seen them, but Hermione would have none of it.
"Let's not tell Harry about that," Ron suggested after the couple had headed their separate ways. Hermione, though she knew he would find out sooner or later. Ron looked at his watch and suggested that they head back.
Hermione caught Ron's eyes as they were walking back and felt herself flush. "What are you looking at?" she snapped.
Ron turned red. "Nothing."
"I saw you looking at me."
"I wasn't looking at you. I was thinking."
"What were you thinking about?"
He turned even redder, if such a thing were possible. "Nothing."
Hermione sniffed, but said no more until she caught him staring a few minutes later in the hallways just before they reached the common room. She stopped dead in her tracks. "Is there something wrong, Ron?" she asked. Though her voice was cold there was a thread of concern woven through it.
"No," he said, staring at his hands as though he were seeing them for the first time.
"Then would you please stop staring at me?"
He nodded his head. "I didn't know I was." He stepped towards her, and then quickly moved back.
"What are you doing?"
Again he moved in close to her, his face bright red and his eyes filled with uncertainty. She felt herself swallow, and licked her lips, as they had suddenly gone very dry. "What are you doing?" she asked again.
He took one step closer until they were standing face to face, their noses almost touching., Hermione wasn't sure if the heart she felt beating was Ron's or her own. He looked so scared and lonely. Impulsively, she reached out towards him. As she leaned in, she felt him do the same. Her eyes closed and her lips met his quickly and softly.
Ron pulled away as though he had been shot. "I'm sorry, Hermione! I didn't mean to," he said. He seemed as though he were about to cry.
"It's okay, Ron." It was okay. She was scared for what might happen next, but, after all this time, it was okay. She hadn't even known that that was what she wanted until it had happened, but now she felt foolish for all of the time that she had failed to see it.
"No," he said, turning away from her. "I didn't even ask. I just…I saw them back there and, I don't know."
"It's okay, she repeated, wanting to make him understand. She knew he was trying to spare the two of them, but wished he wouldn't. he was hurting her more by denying what he had done than he ever could have through the action.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
"Please, don't be," she said, trying to make him understand.
He didn't say anything else, just turned away from her and headed through the portrait hole, giving her no choice but to follow.
"Anything interesting happen?" Ginny asked after they returned.
Ron failed to remember that his sister always asked the same question every night after they had finished their rounds. He bristled and suddenly seemed to become even more nervous than he had been out in the corridor. "No. Nothing interesting. What makes you ask? Why would you ask if something interesting happened? Does it look like anything interesting happened? Do you think being a prefect is an interesting job? I didn't see anything interesting at all. Why do have any interest in being interested in anything interesting?'
"Maybe you should go to bed," Ginny said looking both confused and concerned.
Ron scowled at her, and then turned away without saying another word. "I think I'll go too," Harry said. "He's acting as though he's gone mad."
"What's wrong with him, Ginny asked once the two boys had headed up their dormitory stairs and out of sight.
Hermione didn't quite know what to say. Ginny was her friend, so there was little more she wanted to do than to tell her about the kiss that she and Ron had shared, how happy it had made her feel, how upset she was that he kept apologizing for it, and her fears about how their friendship might suffer. On the other hand, Ron was Ginny's brother, and until he was ready to tell her, and Harry, what had happened between the two of them she thought she had better keep her mouth shut. She settled for the path of least resistance, knowing she could trust Ginny with a secret. "We wrote up Dean Thomas and Cho Chang for kissing in the hallway. Ron's worried about Harry finding out."
Ginny nodded. "My lips are sealed."
"Did you finish making copies of the picture?" Hermione asked, deciding the wisest course of action would be to change the subject before the information about her and Ron came slipping out unbidden. Her mind was such a mixture of emotions that she could hardly think, but she willed herself to focus on the next step in their project. Whether Ron had kissed her or not, they had a girl to find.
"Yes. We made seven of them. I thought I would send one to my mum and dad, and one each to Charlie and Bill, since Charlie's in Romania, and Bill works for the Wizarding Bank, you know Gringotts. I was also going to send one to Fred and George. They've been getting a lot of business in their shop lately. You never know, she might have come through."
"That takes care of four of them," Hermione counted. She wanted to make sure that everywhere these pictures went they would be received by hands that wouldn't make the mistake of presenting them to Snape. "What are you going to tell them when you send them the photo?"
"I'm going to tell them that we found this photo folded up with an assignment that you received back from Snape. I'm going to ask them if they've ever seen her before or if they know anything about her. I'll say that we tried to ask Snape and he got very upset, so they shouldn't say anything to them. I'll tell them that I think it's his long lost love, and we want to help him find her."
"I guess that will work," said Hermione. She wasn't exactly certain how much she liked the plausibility of that explanation, but she couldn't come up with anything better, so it would simply have to do.
"What about the rest of them?'
"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I was going to ask you and Harry if you had come up with any ideas."
"I thought maybe Tonks, since she's an auror. Harry thought of giving one to Dobby." Hermione didn't know what to think about that, and it must have shown on her face, because Ginny held up her hand. "He had a good point, Hermione. You told us that the Tree said that Arial ran off to live with a Dark Wizard after she left Snape and ran away with her family. Dobby used to be the Malfoy's house elf. Who would no dark witches and wizards better than him?"
"We don't know that she was into the dark arts herself," Hermione said.
"Oh please," said Ginny. You don't think that someone like you or I could live with someone like Crabbe or Malfoy, or, for that matter, Snape and enjoy it if we weren't into the dark arts to, do you?"
"No," Hermione admitted. "You're right. So Dobby is a good one."
"Yeah," said Ginny. "The way he worships Harry all we have to do is have Harry show it to him and tell the little guy not to say a word about the photo to anyone."
"And then what about Tonks?'
"I guess We'll have to tell her the same thing we tell my family, seeing as they're all in the Order together. I don't think it would be a good idea to have separate stories circulating through people who are so close."
"Probably not," Hermione was forced to agree.
"So, that leaves one," said Ginny.
"I have an idea about that one," said Hermione. "How about Dumbledore?"
Ginny nodded, and then frowned. "I though you said no teachers, though. You didn't want the word getting back to Snape. Besides, he already reprimanded you for digging into Snape's personal life."
"I'm just going to tell him that I found this picture stuck in the pages of a book on the magic Schools of Europe. I'll tell him I'm curious about who it is. That way, I won't have t give it to him, and I don't see any reason why he would ever tell Snape about it. Dumbledore knows everyone. He might even have known Arial's father, since he was against the Dark Side."
"I guess that takes care of everything, then," said Ginny.
"Yeah, thanks for your help.'
"It's not a problem," Ginny shrugged. "I am glad you told us about this, though. You would have had an awfully hard time doing it alone."
"I'm still not sure I should be doing it at all," said Hermione. "But I guess they're no turning back now."
Ginny shook her head. "No, I'm afraid there isn't."
* * *
Hermione walked down to the common room early, hoping to head off to the Great hall for breakfast before anyone else could get there. She felt as though she would be doing Ron a favor if she kept him from seeing her for a while. She was still hurt by the way he had continually apologized fro kissing her the night before, but now she hoped that he would come around, given a little time. She was worried about losing his friendship, but, now, she felt as though a relationship between the two of them might be worth a try.
"Hello, Hermione," a voice said stiffly from the couch before the fireplace."
"Ron!" She wanted to run up to him and hug him, but she restrained herself, feeling that doing such a thing might be a bit presumptuous of her.
"Did you sleep well?" He rose up to walk with her, and suddenly she felt herself growing uncomfortable. His formality was too stiff for her tastes. She preferred Ron the way he had been before, and hoped that his present demeanor was not a sign of even more troubles to come.
"I suppose," she said.
"That's good. That's very, very good."
She looked at him in askance, but said nothing more.
The continued through the hallway in silence. She was growing more uncomfortable with every step and was itching to tell him how she felt, but she wasn't entirely certain how to approach the matter. At last, he broke the silence. "About what happened last night, I'm really sorry."
"Ron, please don't be sorry," she said, stopping and turning to face him. "I'm not sorry. You don't have to be."
He looked as though he didn't quite know what to make of this news. "I just…it sort of overwhelmed me, you know."
"I know."
"It all happened very fast."
"Yes, it did."
"I'm not really sure I meant to."
"Don't say that."
He took a deep breath. "So, what happened, it was okay?"
She smiled. "Yes, Ron, it was okay."
He nodded and then carried on walking. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but she didn't pressure him. At last he spoke again just before they st down to eat. "So it would be okay if I did it again sometime, maybe?"
He said it so fast and so quietly that she had to strain to understand him, but she smiled when she did. "That would be perfect," she said.
Ron smiled at her, and ate his breakfast.