Title: Through the Hour Glass (Part Six)
A/N: Please see part one for disclaimers and other info. It should probably be noted that this chapter does contain a scene of a mild sexual nature, and though the rating remains PG-13, considered yourself warned. Or aroused. Whatever. :)
Also a huge THANK YOU to all my lovely and charming reviewers. You guys are the best! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --
Hermione slept through breakfast the next morning, having spent most of the night tossing and turning, thinking about Sirius in manners so unsavory that she was still blushing when she made her way to History of Magic well after the bell had sounded.
Professor Binns was much too focused on his lecture to notice Hermione as she crept into class. Ron had saved her a seat at the rear of the room.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Overslept," Hermione muttered, spotting Sirius near a window, where he was stretched out languidly in his chair, looking bored and gorgeous. In the chair behind him James was playing with a Snitch, allowing it to soar a few inches away before snatching it out of the air. The students around him watched, captivated, while Professor Binns droned on, oblivious.
"Well," Ron frowned, "Happy birthday, Mione."
Hermione groaned and slumped forward onto her desk. "Oh, Ron, I hate it here. I miss Harry. I miss Ginny. I miss our lives."
"I know," Ron sighed, reaching over and patting her consolingly on the back, "but I know Harry'll get us back soon. You said it, remember? He won't let us down."
He smiled and Hermione promptly burst into tears and dove into his arms. Across the room, Sirius turned to watch her and Ron with a scowl, while Lily took the opportunity to point her wand at James and exclaim, "Accio Snitch!"
The Snitch flew right into her outstretched hand. James rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, defeated.
Hermione was still mopping her face with her sleeve when class ended, the emotion all spilling out of her before she could stop it. Ron kept one eye on her as they made their way to the greenhouses for Herbology, as if waiting to see if she would lunge at him again.
"We could skive off Herbology," Ron suggested. "It's not like we'd be missing anything. They're just harvesting Bubotuber Pus."
"No, I don't think so," Hermione said. "I already missed most of History of Magic. I really shouldn't skip another class."
She felt a hand on her shoulder and spun around to find Lupin half a step behind them.
He offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, looking quite apprehensive, "but I wanted a word, Hermione, if that's all right."
"Oh...of course..." She looked at Ron.
"I'll grab you a bubotuber," Ron said, continuing down the hall alone, looking a little downtrodden.
Lupin guided her out of the tide of rushing students and into an empty classroom. "I couldn't help but notice that you were quite upset about something," he began, training his gray eyes upon her, and it occurred to Hermione that, even now, he was more lined and worn than his age should allow.
"Is everything all right?" he asked.
Hermione shook her head; her puffy eyes and still damp face made lying a pointless option.
"Is there anything I can do?"
He was being so sweet and looking at her so kindly...Hermione was so touched by his consideration that she felt her eyes fill with water once more.
"No," she sputtered.
"Are you certain?" Lupin tapped the badge on his chest. "I am a prefect, you know, so I do have loads of power."
He smiled wryly and Hermione could not help but return the gesture. She giggled through her fresh curtain of tears. "I don't doubt that," she said, wiping at her eyes and wishing she could stop blubbering, "I'm just homesick, is all."
Lupin nodded. "If you ever need to talk, Hermione...I know you have Ron but..." He smiled again and offered a faint shrug. Was it her imagination, Hermione thought, or was he blushing?
"Thanks, Remus," she said, fumbling to use his proper name. She then paused, her tears coming to an abrupt halt. "You know, of course, that having Ron doesn't mean...having Ron...in any sense other than as a friend...regardless of what he has told you. Right?"
"Er...right," Lupin said, with a confused little frown. He cleared his throat and reached for his schoolbag. "Well, I, er, heard it was your birthday today..."
He pulled a hastily wrapped package from his bag and extended it to her, and now Hermione was certain he was blushing, just as she was sure a flush was coming over her.
Her hands trembled as she took the gift. She tore back the paper to find a leather bound copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' staring up at her.
"It's nothing, really," Lupin said, "just a little something I thought you might enjoy..."
"It's beautiful," she interrupted. "I just love it, Remus, thank you."
She had embraced him and kissed his cheek before she could stop herself, and when she stood back and considered him, he looked altogether pleased. For her part, Hermione was thinking that perhaps she did hate it here after all.
"I had better get to Herbology," she said, her lips tingling strangely, as if curious for more contact against his skin. She muttered another thanks and, mind racing, ran all the way to the greenhouses.
Ron eyed her suspiciously as she plopped down beside him in front of a tray of bubotubers.
"What is it?" he asked immediately.
"Nothing," Hermione replied. Oh God. She was squeaking again.
"What did Lupin want?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you blushing?"
"I'm not," Hermione said, grazing her hand over her cheek, which she found hopelessly warm. She sighed. "He just wanted to know if I was okay, is all."
Lupin entered the greenhouse soon after, and as he sat down with James, Sirius, and Pettigrew, he was still smiling in an especially cheerful manner. Hermione had to bite her lip to keep from saying something moronic as he passed.
Ron observed her, then Lupin, and then leaned in close to her. "Hermione," he whispered, sounding very determined, "I expressly forbid you to shag Lupin."
Hermione buried her face in her hands. "Ronald Weasley, will you ever learn?"
"No, I mean it," Ron continued. "And no shagging Sirius either. In fact, I don't think you should shag anyone from the past."
Hermione looked up at him. "No one from the past? Just the past?"
Ron considered the point and then nodded. "Yeah. No changing the past, right? Well, shagging could change things, so no shagging. Deal?"
"That goes for you, too, then," Hermione said.
Ron looked miserable. "Shouldn't be a problem. The girls aren't exactly lining up for me, you know."
Hermione smiled at him and extended her hand. "Deal."
They shook on it, Hermione still smiling and Ron seeming pleased and relieved to have made it official.
No shagging. Well, that was fine, Hermione thought. She certainly wasn't going to be shagging anyone. She was much too sensible and wise for such foolish actions. That sort of thing was for girls like Parvati and Lavender to do. She had other, more important matters to attend to.
But her mind was already wandering to those very dangerous places. Hermione gave herself a good mental kick and struggled to pay attention as their lesson began.
Harry awoke on the morning of the nineteenth thinking of Hermione, and how they had wanted to spend her sixteenth birthday. He was planning on taking a jaunt into Hogsmeade for butterbeer and presents, while Ron was going to visit the kitchens to nick some food from the always accommodating house- elves. It was going to be quite the party...
Harry rolled out of bed and made his way to the lavatory, knowing that there would be no party, and by the time he had dressed and gathered his things for lessons, he was in a remarkably foul mood.
"When are Ron and Hermione coming back?" Neville asked as they sat for Herbology. It was one of the only classes still worth attending these days, as Professor Sprout had remained at the castle and was sticking to her usual lesson plans.
"Dunno," Harry muttered. He wished Neville would leave him alone.
"Is the reason they had to leave...does it have anything to do with You-Know- Who?"
Harry sighed, his temper breaking slightly, as he remembered that Neville had risked his life last year in the Department of Mysteries, all because Harry had been too stubborn to listen to reason.
"No," he said, the edge now absent from his voice, "they just had to take care of something outside of school. Nothing to worry about."
Neville did not prod for further details, though his round face screwed up as he stared at Professor Sprout. "Something bad is happening, Harry," he said. "Professor Dumbledore and the others have been gone too long."
Harry nodded. There was no use denying that.
After Herbology, Harry made his way to the Great Hall, where he ate a quick lunch in silence. He was strolling toward the library, thinking he would see if he could duck into the Restricted Section, when he overhead voices coming from a classroom up ahead.
"Oh, Remus, I think there are far moment important things to worry about now."
Harry paused and turned his ear toward the door. McGonagall sounded impatient as ever, but Harry had rarely heard her take that tone with anyone other than her students.
"I understand that, Minerva," Lupin responded, "but I do think it imperative that we get Ron and Hermione back as soon as possible. Not only because of what I remember," he said this quickly, as if placating her, "but for Harry's sake as well. You know as well as I do that what is coming will test him greatly. He will do far better with his friends at his side."
The hairs on his neck rising to attention, Harry tiptoed ever closer to the room, hoping they would elaborate further. He had heard nothing like this from either of them so far, making it all the more crucial that he keep listening, as history had shown him that the things that were concealed were often the most important.
"You remember little more than I do, Remus. Hermione and Ron arrived, took lessons, and after that, neither of us can say. They do not seem to be interfering with history, which remains our chief concern, and so we move forward with the Temporal Charm as planned. Whether or not you harbored a childish crush on Miss Granger is inconsequential and no reason to behave rashly."
Harry nearly toppled over. Lupin fancied Hermione?
"As for Harry," McGonagall continued, and Harry shook himself of thoughts of Lupin and Hermione to pay attention, "we are by his side now, as our countless others who will come if need be. And perhaps Hermione and Ron will be back before we ever need to worry about that." She sighed. "We may at least hope for that."
The door opened and Harry, not eager to be caught eavesdropping by McGonagall, cast around for somewhere to hide. There was a suit of armor just done the hall...if he rushed he could perhaps duck behind it...
"Potter! What are you doing?"
Harry gave her his most innocent smile. "Just heading to the library, Professor. Wanted to see if I could help out with the Temporal Charm."
McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him. "I think it best if you just focus on your studies, Potter."
"Will you be teaching Transfiguration today?" Harry asked. He actually hoped she would, and with a smile he thought of what Hermione would say if she knew how desperate he was for a return to real lessons.
"Not today," she said, and she offered him no further explanation before whipping her robes behind her and disappearing down the hallway.
All thoughts of heading to the library pushed aside, Harry ducked into the classroom McGonagall had just abandoned. Lupin stood near the window, eyes scanning the Hogwarts grounds, a funny sort of expression on his face.
"Professor Lupin?"
Lupin turned. "Harry," he said with a smile. "What can I do for you?"
Harry leaned against a desk and decided the best way to get the answers he wanted was to drop pretense. "I heard you and Professor McGonagall talking a moment ago."
His smiled faded and Lupin looked mildly panicked. "Harry, I would hate for you to get the wrong idea. I was a young man when I had those thoughts about Hermione and it was nothing more than an innocent crush..."
Harry allowed Lupin to carry on like this for a moment before cutting in. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the other thing you said."
"Oh." Lupin frowned. "Then please forget I said anything."
"You said something was coming, Professor, that would test me. What is it?"
Lupin went silent. He looked back out on the grounds and seemed to be weighing his words, calculating what to say next. Harry joined him at the window; the trees of the Forbidden Forest swayed angrily in an enormous gust of wind.
Other than treks to and from the greenhouses for Herbology, he had not been out on the grounds since receiving the letter from Lupin the day Ron and Hermione disappeared. With Hagrid absent and his friends gone, he had no real need to, and now as he looked out at the grounds, so shadowy and foreboding, he was left with no desire to do so.
Lupin sighed, the premature lines on his face looking harsher and deeper than ever, "Oh, Harry, surely you have guessed."
Harry had. He imagined he was not the only one; other students had likely drawn the same conclusions he had but were merely in too great a state of denial to say the words aloud.
"He's coming, isn't he?" Harry asked, though he already knew the answer.
Lupin nodded. "Snape heard tell of it from the Death Eaters the night Percy was marked. Voldemort will lay siege on Hogwarts, and I expect it will be most brutal."
"He never tried that before."
"No." Lupin looked right at him. "But he never had reason before, did he?"
Harry had felt this way so many times before but it was always dreadful. His scar began to prickle, for the first time since he had truly dedicated himself to Occlumency, in its old familiar way.
"When?" he asked.
Lupin sighed again. "Soon."
The world seemed darker than ever despite the afternoon hour. Harry felt himself shiver and, perhaps knowing the movement had nothing to do with the cold, Lupin laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.-----
The whole school emptied out of the castle after lessons had ended that day, and as one they marched down to the Quidditch Pitch, which had been transformed for the evening into the setting of the most extravagant picnic Hermione had ever seen. Five tables were set up just as they were in the Great Hall; four for the students and one for the staff. A huge banner hung from the goal posts, with a picture of a beautiful phoenix and the words 'Congratulations Albus Dumbledore on Five Wonderful Years' sparkling like fairy lights.
"Kind of like the Yule Ball, isn't it?" Hermione said as she and Ron made their way to the Gryffindor table. Gold and silver streamers soared through the sky above their heads.
"No Viktor though," Ron said.
"No Viktor," she concurred, smiling at his wicked tone of voice. She snaked her arm through his.
"You're much more cheerful than you were this morning," Ron said, grinning at her touch, the happiness playing on her smooth face beneath all the enchanted lights above. "What changed?"
She thought of how sweet Lupin had been earlier and how Sirius's wink made her feel last night, but she knew Ron too well to ruin his evening with such confessions.
"Well, it is my birthday," Hermione said at last. "And this," she gestured at the celebration playing all around them, "seems a nice way to spend it."
They sat at the Gryffindor table and were soon joined by the same people they had vowed only days before to avoid. The four boys took the seats around Hermione and Ron, though James was sending frequent, hopeful glances down the table where Lily was seated with the other fifth year girls.
"Bet the house-elves have really outdone themselves tonight," Sirius said as he plopped down next to Hermione.
It seemed like more work for the house-elves, Hermione thought, to magic their dinners out of the castle and onto the grounds. She opened her mouth to say something to this effect but paused when the wind carried a voice to her ears.
"...just appalling," Lily was saying, "for fellow magical beings to be treated like mere servants!"
"They are servants, Lily," a plain girl Hermione knew as Selma replied. "It's what house-elves do, you know. They serve wizards."
"And you see nothing wrong with that?" Lily said.
Ron, also overhearing this exchange, shook his head in awe. "God, Hermione, I never thought we'd meet anyone who'd be as passionate about elf rights as you!"
When the majority of students had settled at their various tables, Dumbledore rose to his feet and raised his hands. The rowdy students went quiet.
"I thank you all for coming to this magnificent party. My years here at Hogwarts have been among the happiest of my life, but I will not bore you with tales you already know. Instead, I wish you all a glorious evening under the stars. Now, tuck in!"
Food instantly appeared on the tables. Hermione watched, amused, as the boys piled a copious amount of meats, vegetables, and breads onto their plates, their eyes gleaming like they had never before had a proper meal. She decided to wait until they were through ravaging the various bowls and trays to fill her own plate, and instead reached for a pitcher of pumpkin juice.
"Hold on there, Hermione," Sirius said, catching her hand mid-reach and drawing it back. His touch was warm on her skin, and she hoped the light was too inadequate to reveal the flush on her face.
"We have something better," James added, at last tearing his eyes from Lily. He reached into his robes and withdrew a gleaming silver flask. Lupin frowned knowingly.
"I don't think that's a good idea," he said mildly, as if he knew protesting would do little good. Sure enough, James smirked and Sirius rolled his eyes.
"Oh, lighten up, Moony. A little firewhiskey never hurt anyone." He grinned and looked over at Hermione. "You want some?"
Hermione glanced quickly at Ron.
"We could get in loads of trouble," he said, sounding uncertain and curious all at the same time.
"Yeah, guess we could," James sighed. "But, then, what's life without a little trouble?" He poured a generous splash of firewhiskey into his goblet and passed the flask to Sirius, who did the same.
"So, Hermione," Sirius said, posing the flask above her glass, "are you in or out?"
Hermione worked hard not to look up at the staff table, where Dumbledore, who had trusted her and Ron thus far, was happily digging into his meal. She tried to avoid looking at Ron, who was gapping, or Lupin, who was still frowning ever so slightly. Normally she would never even consider drinking like this, but these were not exactly normal circumstances, were they?
Besides, it was tiring, really, always doing what was right and proper. And maybe, she thought hopefully, a little alcohol would dull the swirling, nagging thoughts swarming her mind.
"What the hell?" she said at last, causing Ron to do a double take that appeared to hurt his neck. "It is my birthday, after all. Might as well celebrate."
"That's my girl!" Sirius exclaimed proudly, emptying the remainder of the whiskey into her glass. Lupin was frowning in an entirely different manner now, his eyes traveling to Sirius, a nasty line appearing between his eyes.
Hermione stared at her goblet apprehensively, as if the smoking liquid inside was perhaps some sort of terrifying potion, rather than a simple spirit. Noticing her hesitation with a smile, James nudged the pitcher of pumpkin juice toward her.
"Here," he said. "It'll make it easier to swallow."
It seemed that neither he nor Sirius needed pumpkin juice, as they both lifted their glasses and chugged the drink within with only the slightest grimace. Pettigrew looked on with his typical air of hero worship.
"Do you have any more of that?" he asked.
"Sorry, Pete," James said. "Nothing more than a drop or two left."
"That might be enough for you though," Sirius added. He tossed the empty flask at Pettigrew and cast an eye on Hermione.
With the pumpkin juice added, the drink looked much more palatable, and Hermione slowly lifted her goblet. Aware that they were all watching her, she took a sip and tried to keep a straight face as the strange taste swept over her tongue, the sweetness of the juice barely masking the hot intensity of the liquor.
Sirius grinned at her and began shoveling food into his mouth, while Lupin looked simultaneously impressed and disappointed. Ron reached for the glass.
"Can I?" he asked.
Hermione nodded, still trying not to blanch as the liquor burned her empty stomach. Ron, however, made no such attempt at bravado, spitting the liquid onto the ground as soon as it touched his lips.
"Blech!" he cried. "That's just disgusting!"
Sirius and James both laughed. "Guess Red can't handle the heat," Sirius said. "What about you, Hermione?"
Hermione shrugged. "It's all right," she said coolly, taking another, deeper drink.
Her vision started to blur around the edges as the meal progressed, and as she alternated bites of food with sips of her drink, she wondered if she perhaps should have protested the amount of liquor Sirius poured into her glass. It had been quite a lot, after all, more than either he or James poured themselves, and sure enough neither of them seemed to be feeling its effects.
By the time the entrees were cleared and desserts appeared, Hermione felt that she was, for the first time in her life, drunk. She may have even been imagining things, because as she served herself some treacle tart, she suddenly thought she felt a hand slide gently over her knee.
Hermione looked down at her lap and discovered, to her profound surprise, that she was not imagining things at all. Sirius had landed his hand on her knee, and was casually brushing it up her thigh, as if there was nothing unusual or dangerous about the activity at all.
"I want to show you something," he whispered, his mouth so close to her ear that Hermione could feel his breath, warm and intoxicating, on her neck.
"But the feast isn't over yet," she muttered in a voice that sounded much too muddled to be her own.
"No one'll notice," Sirius promised, and when Hermione looked around she saw that he was probably quite right. Students were mingling, floating from table to table, visiting with friends from other Houses, and the diners at the staff table looked as if they too had imbibed a bit of firewhiskey.
"Okay," she breathed. Sirius took her hand and led her from the table, away from the crowd, and if Ron called after them, Hermione failed to hear him. She was having such difficultly walking with her robes swaying around her feet that she was unable to concentrate on anything other than following Sirius.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"You'll see," Sirius said.
He guided her onward, straight toward the Forbidden Forest, but just when Hermione thought he would lead her into the dark tangle of trees she instead found that he was taking her to a very familiar cabin that stood at the edge of the grounds.
"But, Sirius, Hagrid is still at the feast," she said
"That's the point," Sirius said with a smile. He extracted what Hermione thought was a penknife from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. It turned with a satisfying click and Sirius pushed the door open.
The cabin was dark and empty. Hermione expected Fang to bound over to greet them, but the giant boarhound was nowhere in sight, and she wondered idly if Hagrid had yet acquired the beast.
"Lumos," Sirius whispered. The wandlight swept over the cabin, illuminating the wooden table, chest of drawers, and gigantic bed...
It slowly dawned on Hermione what they were doing here, and even in her clumsy, drunken state she was filled with the knowledge that this was a terrible idea. She should suggest that they go back to the feast at once, before she did something rash...like break the deal she had made with Ron.
But all those reasonable thoughts died when Sirius put a hand on her face, brushing her hair away and standing so close that she could almost feel his heartbeat.
"There's something about you that I just can't figure out," he muttered before lowering his lips to hers.
Hermione was swept up, utterly breathless, in his kiss, a thousand feelings coming over her at once. Sirius drew her close and pulled her over to the bed.
Hermione had never once lain in bed with a boy before, nor had she ever been kissed like this. All the little pecks she had shared with Viktor seemed suddenly small and insignificant; nothing like this. Sirius was kissing her like he wanted to devour her, his hands going places as yet uncharted by another being.
Hermione could only return his every hungry gesture, desperate for how he was making her feel, until a flash of memory broke through the haze in her mind. She thought suddenly of a veil, swaying in an unfelt breeze, drawing a boy she cared for so much ever alarmingly closer...
"Stop," she whispered, pushing Sirius from atop her and rolling awkwardly off the bed. She made for the door but stumbled drunkenly, collapsing against the table for support.
Sirius leapt from the bed and rushed over to her, his arms going around her waist as he guided her into one of the kitchen chairs. Hermione was panting, on fire from head to toe, afraid to look directly at him as he knelt beside her seat.
"Just relax," he said, his brow wrinkling with concern. "We don't have to do anything, Hermione."
Hermione knew that, but she could feel his want and desire, feel it reflected in her own, and soon she was kissing him again, tumbling out of the chair and landing roughly on the floor beside him.
He tasted like spices, like worlds she had never seen and places she had never been. He was all the things she had always denied herself, the indulgence of every greedy, selfish thought she had ever had. He was the most gorgeous boy she had ever laid eyes on, and, in this moment, she was all his.
If she could have, she would have stopped time and kept him there forever, kissing her, safe from all that she knew lay ahead. Hermione wished she had the power, wild and unimaginable, to change the world.
And then she knew. She did.
She could change the world; his world. She could save his life if she wanted.
Hermione pushed him away again. She lay flat on her back and stared up at the ceiling, her heart fluttering frantically in her chest, the numbing effects of the firewhiskey waning as her mind began to race once more.
"I can't," she whispered. "It's too much. It's just too much."
"What is?" Sirius nuzzled her neck. "What's too much?"
"This," she insisted. "I know the rules. We're not supposed to change anything. We promised Dumbledore that we wouldn't change anything."
Sirius propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at her. "What are you talking about?"
Hermione continued as if she had not even heard him. "But how can I just let it happen?" she muttered. "How can I?"
She got unsteadily to her feet and hurried out of the cabin without looking back, ignoring Sirius when he asked her to wait, to talk to him. She charged back to the castle, nausea coming over her in waves.
How could she have been so stupid? She never should have let Dumbledore believe that she and Ron could handle this. It was impossible, she knew now, to interact with Sirius, James, Lupin and the others without eventually violating the rules of time travel.
She should have seen it coming. She and Ron should have stayed locked away in some secret room in the castle, waiting for Harry to rescue them, rather than stray into these perilous waters. Even she, clever as she was, had just come terribly close to telling Sirius everything. Another five minutes alone with him and it all would have come spilling from her lips.
Hermione strayed from the path as she neared the castle, coming to rest upon her knees in the same brush she and Ron had hidden in their first night in the past. She retched horribly, stars flashing before her eyes as every last ounce of whiskey and tart rose up out of her.
"Hermione?"
She was flooded with a mingled feeling of relief and shame. "Don't come any closer," she said. "I don't want you to see me like this."
Ron rolled his eyes. "You've watched me vomit garden slugs, Mione. I doubt this could be much worse."
Hermione wiped her mouth on the back of her hand as Ron crouched down beside her.
"Think you've had a bit much to drink," Ron said, his voice even and calm, lacking the accusation Hermione knew she would feel were their roles reversed. "Where's Sirius?"
Hermione wished he had asked her any other question in the world. She shook her head miserably. "I dunno. Maybe back at Hagrid's cabin."
"Hagrid's cabin?" Ron repeated. "What were you doing..."
He went quiet, frowning at the ground as the answer to the unfinished question hung in the air between them.
"It's not what you think," she said. "I mean...nothing happened...not really."
"You don't have to explain anything to me, Hermione," Ron said.
But she wanted him to know. It seemed important that he understand.
"Come on," Ron continued. "I'll get you to bed."
Ron helped Hermione get to her feet and allowed her to lean heavily against him as they made their way into the castle. It was slow work mounting the seemingly endless staircases, with Hermione dragging her feet every step of the way. As they reached the fifth floor her head began lolling about on her shoulders, and she soon sat down upon the floor near the statue of Boris the Bewildered and refused to get back up.
"I'm just too tired," she groaned. "I don't want to do it anymore."
"Don't have a choice, I'm afraid," Ron said, trying to pull her upright. "If you stay here some teacher's bound to find you and then you'll be done for. You stink of whiskey, Mione."
"Do not," she muttered.
Ron sighed as he realized that she would be walking no further tonight. He gathered her up in his arms and carried her to the seventh floor.
"Mallowsweet," he said as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. She swung forward and allowed them admittance into the Gryffindor common room. It was empty; the students were all still down at the party for Dumbledore.
Ron had nearly started up the stairs to the girls' dormitory before he remembered what had happened the last time he had taken those steps. In no mood to set off the alarm, he briefly considered depositing Hermione, who was now snoring lightly, in one of the various chintz chairs before the fire, but it seemed unfair to leave her when she was in such a state, and he was in no mood to sit down here, waiting for the other students to return.
Instead Ron carried her up to his dorm and placed her on his bed. He lay down carefully beside her, trying very hard to keep ample space between their bodies, hoping she would be awake and sobered up by the time his dormmates returned.
But keeping space between them was more difficult than he had originally suspected, as Hermione had soon snuggled close against his side, her head resting on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Ron," she muttered.
Her eyes were still closed. Ron wondered if she was even aware of what she was doing.
"For what?" he asked.
Hermione did not reply for a long time, and Ron thought she had probably drifted back to sleep, until her answer came in a voice barely over a whisper.
"I should have gone with you to the Yule Ball."
Ron could not believe his ears. Hermione moved ever closer to him as fireworks lit up the sky outside, illuminating her still form as she slept in his arms.