A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to update – some of you were probably starting to think I'd abandoned this story, which I haven't – but I've been really, really busy with school lately. As soon as the semester ends I should have some time to catch up on my writing before the new semester starts.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Mending Old Wounds
As the weeks rolled by and Hermione and Ron still refused to speak to him, the more certain Harry became that the damage was irreversible. As February slowly turned into March, he was actually ahead in some of his lessons and had begun vigorously revising for N.E.W.Ts. He would have given anything to hear Hermione's congratulating voice that he was finally taking his studies seriously. But really, without his best friends to talk to how else was he supposed to occupy his time?
He had spotted Hermione several times in the library, sitting alone, and had been tempted every one of those times to go over – but had always stopped himself just short of doing so. He couldn't apologize because he didn't know how a simple 'sorry' would make up for the way he had behaved towards her and Ron all year – and even before that. More and more he was starting to realize that he had lost their friendship a lot longer then before the Dementor attack, and he had no right to ask for it back since he was bound to just screw it all up again. He missed them both terribly, but again, that was his fault too, wasn't it?
He didn't even have Quidditch anymore. Since the Dementor attack, the Ministry of Magic had ruled that all outside activities be cancelled, except of course for their practical Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. No student was allowed on the grounds without a professor present – not that there were all that many students left. Professor McGonagall had met with the other teachers and they had agreed to send home everyone below fourth year. Anyone fourth year and above was given the option to stay. Letters had been sent home to every parent and many had pulled out their children without a second thought. The majority left – if it could be called that – consisted of seventh and sixth years, with the odd fifth or fourth year student still around.
The suffering would have at least been made more bearable if he could have commiserated with Ron that they wouldn't get one last shot at the Quidditch Cup – but he was no more likely to approach Ron then Ron was to approach him.
The only thing that was keeping him sane was continuously searching the shelves of Dumbledore's office for the answer to defeating Voldemort. At first, he had ventured there only when he knew Ron and Hermione would be elsewhere, but it soon become apparent that they had stopped coming to Dumbledore's office altogether. He was on his own, but that was fine with him. He had always known that in the end it would be him alone that would manage to stop the Dark Lord – or be killed in the process. Hermione and Ron had already sacrificed too much for him, he couldn't ask them to do any more.
At the sound of his classmates packing up around him Harry quickly realized he had spent the entire Divination lesson staring out a window, stuck in his own thoughts. He hadn't taken in a word of what Trewlany had said (not that it would matter much), but now he had an entire three-foot parchment to do on how the positions of Jupiter's moons affect emotions during certain days of the month. It was going to be another late night in the library.
He was taking the ladder down to the main hallway, wondering why he had continued Divination passed fifth year in the first place, when he noticed Ron hanging back at the end of the corridor. He looked to be waiting for someone – and Harry was almost passed him when Ron spoke his name. It had been so long since he had heard Ron's voice he almost kept walking, thinking he couldn't possibly be speaking to him. But he was, and as Harry stopped and faced him, he didn't look overly thrilled to be doing so.
"Look, Ron, I don't want to be late for Transfiguration, so whatever you've got to say, just say it," Harry said tersely. He didn't know why he was so short with Ron. If anything he should have been elated that Ron was finally speaking with him, but he couldn't help but feel angry towards Hermione and him. He didn't care how much he had deserved it, that didn't erase the fact that they had turned their backs on him.
Ron purposely avoided looking in Harry's direction when he spoke. "It's about Hermione," he said, keeping his voice low.
"Is she all right?" Harry tried to sound casual, but was sure Ron would be able to make out the concern in his voice.
"She's fine – I mean, she's not – I mean – " Ron stopped himself and began again. "She hasn't been the same since the Dementor attack," he confided to Harry. "She's really jumpy a lot of the time and every time I try to bring it up, she tells me to drop it and immediately starts talking about something else or says she has to go study."
"She's probably stressed over the N.E.W.Ts. Madame Pomfrey's already treated a bunch of students for panic attacks and other stress-related syndromes."
"Harry, I know her – and I know how worried she is about doing well on her finals, but that's not it. You don't know how many times I've heard her crying in the middle of the night for no reason."
Harry didn't ask how he could have known that when they slept in separate dorms. "I'm telling you its stress," he said adamantly.
"And how would you know?" Ron challenged. "It's not like you've been around to notice."
That wasn't Harry's fault. They were the ones who had decided to cut him out of their lives. "Why are you telling me this anyways?"
Ron spoke as if it was the hardest thing he ever had to say. "Since I can't get her to talk to me, I thought she might open up to you. You've been through enough encounters with Dementors."
"She's not going to be any more willing to talk to me," Harry informed him. "Hermione's a big girl, Ron, she can take care of herself."
Ron took a step towards him and pointed a shaking finger at Harry's chest. "Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to come to you and ask for your help?" His voice shook as he spoke. "Do you think I wanted to tell you the woman I love can't even look at me anymore? If you still care about Hermione in the slightest, you'll talk to her."
Seething with anger, Ron left Harry standing there.
Harry was still standing by his stress defense, but the conviction in which Ron had spoke, made him believe in the possibility that there was something else going on with Hermione. Ron was wrong, though, about getting Hermione to talk to him. He would be the last person she'd want to confide in.
The following morning when they were silently dressing for Lupin's early class, Ron gave no hint that the conversation the other day had even taken place. He was probably even more upset now since Harry had not taken him seriously. It wasn't as if Harry had completely disregarded what Ron had said. He had watched Hermione during last night's dinner and other then a bit quiet she had appeared perfectly normal to him. He was confident now that Ron was simply overreacting.
It was a surprisingly mild March morning as the Gryffindors filed out onto the grounds, where Lupin was already waiting for them. He took Harry aside for a moment.
"Harry, I'd like you to stop by my office this evening. There's an important matter we should discuss."
Harry returned to his classmates, confused as to why Lupin wanted to speak with him. As far as he could remember he had handed in every single assignment in recent weeks and had received top marks. Maybe Lupin had some news on Voldemort that he wanted to share with him.
Their professor was taking mercy on them that particular morning. He told them they could spend the class reviewing any attack or defense method they wanted. Many chose to practice the defense shield charm, while others decided to brush up on their skills with Medieval weapons, after having not done so well on the practical test the week before.
Harry spent the lesson sparring with Neville. They took turns shouting spells and curses at one another, and by half way through the lesson Neville had completely mastered the disarming charm. Now, with Harry's help he was trying to conjure an impenetrable defense shield – something he had always had problems with.
Harry chanced a look at his classmates now and then, and was amazed at how far they had all come. They had mastered the most basic charms and curses and were well on their way to mastering the more advanced magic.
A yelp of pain, and someone yelling Ron's name, caught Harry and the rest of the classes' attention. A very anxious looking Hermione was kneeling over Ron, who was clutching his chest in pain. Lupin was at his side before anyone else could move.
"Ron, are you okay?" Lupin asked, kneeling on the other side of him.
He nodded weakly. "I didn't get my shield up in time," he rasped.
Hermione looked a fretful mess – more then she ought to have for a simple training accident. "Ron, I'm so sorry."
"Don't apologize," said Ron, wincing when Lupin touched the spot on his chest that hurt. "I was the one who was too slow."
"I think we've all had enough practice for today," Lupin announced, helping Ron to his feet. "Excellent work, everyone. I see many of you have been doing some extra practicing. Please read chapter fifteen for homework and we'll discuss it in class tomorrow."
Lupin had barely finished speaking when Hermione started walking away – and not in the direction of the school either. Harry could see that Ron was about to go after her, but in his current state it would take him some time to catch up to her.
"I'll go," Harry said to him.
Ron looked ready to protest, but remembering their early discussion, kept his mouth shut, and simply nodded.
At a light jog, Harry was quickly able to catch up to her. She was standing near the lake, a spot the three of them had visited many times over the years.
"Ron's going to be fine," he told her. "I saw him laughing with Seamus on the way back to the castle."
She gave no indication that she had even heard him.
Trying a different approach, he said, "Ron's worried about you."
"Well, he shouldn't be. I'm fine."
He didn't need to be her best friend for the last seven years to know that was a lie.
"I've had a lot of nightmares about Dementors," he said, walking over to her. "I'll wake up in this cold sweat and it's hard to believe it wasn't real."
"When you're walking the halls," she began slowly, "do you expect them to jump out from every dark corner?"
"Not anymore," he answered, watching the giant squid skim the surface before diving out of sight again. "It was a long time after I saw my first Dementor before that happened."
"I let the Dementor attack happen."
She wiped her eyes and Harry saw for the first time that she was crying.
"Of course you didn't. You weren't the one who lead them to Hogwarts."
She shook her head, saying, "you don't understand. When I saw them, I froze. It was as if everything Professor Lupin had taught us was in a part of my brain I no longer had access to. I was so scared, Harry," she said, turning red, puffy eyes on him.
"That's nothing to be ashamed of," he told her. He tried to touch her arm reassuringly, but she snatched it away, not feeling deserving of his comfort.
"I couldn't help Ron. I watched him try and battle the Dementors himself before one grabbed him from behind. And don't tell me that it's all right because it isn't. If Professor Lupin hadn't shown up…" she broke off, unable to finish the thought.
"Ron's not mad at you for what happened," said Harry gently.
"Well, he should be. He did everything he could to fight them, and I couldn't even make so much as an effort to help him."
"It'll be different next time."
"No, it won't. Except someone might die the next time."
"Hermione, you're being – "
"I want you to teach me."
He turned a stunned look on her. "Wh-what?"
"You can battle the Dementors. Your patronus takes on full, corporeal form. There's no one better to teach me." She made it sound like it was just another one of her brilliant ideas.
"Hermione, I don't know," he said, absently scratching the back of his head. "I learned from Lupin. You'd be better off to ask him."
"Harry, please," she begged, "and besides, you know the Dementors don't affect Lupin the same way."
He wanted to say no – he should have said no. But Hermione seemed so desperate for his help, he felt he had no choice but to say yes. She was thrilled when he did, but she had one condition.
"You have to promise you won't say anything to Ron."
"Why not? He'll be glad that your – "
"If Ron knows you're helping me he's going to know that I'm not okay."
"But you're not okay!" Harry exclaimed.
He was already beginning to regret saying yes. How did she expect to hide this from Ron anyways? But he had already agreed to work with her, so he felt obligated to give her his word that he would not mention her private lessons to Ron.
"I can't tonight," she was saying excitedly, "but I'm sure we could find some unused classroom and meet tomorrow."
"Er, ok… sure."
She seemed so confident that their lessons together would make a difference. Harry was as equally confident that disaster was imminent if she planned to hide this from Ron.
Ginny didn't know why she was silently dreading reaching Professor Lupin's office. Lupin hadn't been angry or upset when he asked her to drop by after dinner. She had a feeling his wanting to meet with her was because of her incomplete on the latest homework assignment. She hadn't meant to neglect her schoolwork but she was so busy helping Madame Pomfrey in the hospital wing on certain days that she tended to forget the occasional piece of homework. She wondered if he planned on giving her detention tonight. To her knowledge Lupin had never given a student detention before.
She went into the Dark Arts classroom that was adjoined with Lupin's office, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw Ron and Hermione both sitting at desks.
"What are you doing here?" Ron asked her.
"Professor Lupin wanted to see me," she responded.
"He asked to see us too," said Hermione, slightly confused.
Ginny made for the stairs up to her professor's office, but her brother stopped her. "Don't bother, Ginny. We already checked. He's not here yet."
Ginny was finding it quite bizarre that Lupin had asked to speak to the three of them, when she heard the handle turn and the door creak open. Harry walked in, looking every bit as puzzled as them.
Before Harry could fully walk inside, Ron got up from his desk and said, "I'm not waiting around any longer. Hermione, tell me later what Professor Lupin said, will you?"
"Ron, please have a seat," said the voice of Remus Lupin walking in behind Harry.
Ron didn't look overly happy that he would have to stay, but he slid back into a desk nonetheless.
"I'm sure by now the four of you have guessed as to why I asked you here."
No one said anything, even Hermione didn't have an answer for Lupin.
"I've been watching you closely for weeks, hoping that you would mend things on your own so I wouldn't have to interfere."
"You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble, Professor, because it's not going to happen," Ron announced.
Ginny felt inclined to agree with her brother.
"I know I can't force the four of you to get along and put aside your differences. The choice has to be yours. Minerva will probably have my head for secretly bringing you together like this, but something had to be done. You've become so wrapped up in your own petty arguments – and don't look at me like that because that's exactly what they are – you've completely lost sight of what's important."
"Professor – "
"Harry, please, let me finish," Lupin said, raising a hand to silence him. "Do you realize that's what happened between all of you is everything Lord Voldemort could have hoped for? You've become so divided and unfocused you've completely forgotten that the key to winning this war is working together. How are you supposed to figure out what Dumbledore had so furitively been searching for if you can't even stand being in the same room together?"
"With all due respect sir, I don't think this any of your business," Ginny said, from where she was standing far away from the others.
"You're right, Ginny, it probably isn't, but you all know what's coming and that's why I feel I have to stress the importance of mending old wounds. As I said before, I can't make you get along or even work together, but if any of you care about the safety of this school and the wizarding community, you'll try to work things out." He regarded each of them pointedly before turning and exiting the room.
"Lupin's right," Harry spoke first when the door closed behind their professor.
"Then I hope you're going to be the first one to apologize," Ron growled.
"Ron, this isn't all Harry's fault," said Hermione.
Ron looked from Harry to her, glaring at each of them in turn. "You two have made it up, have you?"
Hermione stared down at her hands. "Well, sort of."
Ron snorted. "Figures, you'd take his side then."
"Oh, Ron, grow up," said Ginny impatiently. "She's not taking anyone's side."
"Will everyone shut up and listen to what I have to say?" Harry said in an annoyed tone. "Then we can decide afterwards if we want to keep bickering."
No one seemed to have any protests about that, not even Ron.
"It's gotten to the point where fixing blame isn't going to get us anywhere anymore. I know that I've lost sight of what's important as well, even when I should know better then any of you what it is we're facing. I'm not asking for anyone's forgiveness, because I'm not even sure I deserve it," he said, stopping and looking at each of them, letting his gaze linger on Ginny a bit longer then his friends. "In three months we'll have the chance to go our separate ways and never see each other again if we don't want to – but if Voldemort wins we won't even get that opportunity. No matter how hard everyone trains it's going to come down to me to fight him, and I'll do it alone if I have to, but I would much rather do knowing my friends are on my side. That's all I wanted to say."
They were all quiet for a bit, until Ginny said, "you won't be alone." She held his gaze, unwavering.
No one else said a word after that, but one look at their faces told Harry everything he needed to know. All might not be forgiven, but it was a start.