"Ginny."
"What?"
"I talked to McGonagall."
"Oh. How'd it go?"
"Not good. Apparently the Dea-"
"Shhhh! No talking in the library!"
"Sorry, Madame Pince." Hermione dropped her voice. "Anyway, Ginny, aparently the Death Eaters are trying to betroth muggle witches who haven't even got their Hogwarts letters."
"That's terrible!"
"I know. But Dumbledore and them caught on, so they're trying to betroth them all first. Professor McGonagall told me that Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape are both already taken."
"I told yo, Hermione, you should talk to my brothers. We're a pure-blooded family, too, you know. We don't flaunt it like others, but-"
"I can't talk to your brothers. They're all dating. I couldn't do that to them."
"They aren't all dating yet, Hermione."
"I told you, I'm not telling Ron. He'd go all bonkers on me and try to hex Malfoy or something. Besides, I don't want him feeling obligated to me."
"I supposed it hasn't occurred to you that he might actually care enough about you to want to protect you?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "This is Ron we're talking about, Ginny."
"Hermione-"
"Ginny. Promise me you won't tell him."
Ginny sighed. "I promise."
After a full week of detention with Snape, Ron had earned sixty galleons. At first he thought fate was on his side, and Madame Pomfrey or Professor Snape had simply had a miscommunication. But things got better as the week progressed. Professor McGonagall had given him seven sickles on the sly for picking up her wand when it slipped out of her hand during Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick enlisted him to straighten up after the first years first attempts at summoning, and emptied his middle desk drawer into Ron's hands (2 galleons, 23 sickles, and 437 knuts). Rubeus Hagrid was the least tactful of all. He had developed a reccuring habit of slipping a galleon into Ron's hand everytime he said "God Bless You" when Hagrid sneezed.
If Malfoy noticed these partialities, he was saying nothing. If anything, he had become more boastful as the weeks progressed. He updated Ron everytime he earned more gold. He would elbow Ron in the hall and mutter numbers in his ear, or sneeze right in the middle of potions and slip his number right into the sneeze. Crabbe and Goyle found this infinitely amusing.
In a panic, Ron had done what every Weasley does when they need money - well, every Weasley but the twins, perhaps. He had gotten a job. Special perission was granted from Dumbledore, and Ron was sneaking out of school every evening to sweep the floors and count the merchandise at Zonko's. It wasn't glamorous or particularly fulfilling, but Ron was thrilled by the chink of gold at the end of every week. This new pleasure took the edge off of his exhaustion - and nearly distracted him from the fact that he was beginning to fall behind in every class.
"Ron! Ron, wait up!"
It was time for lunch, and Ron's stomach was rumbling painfully. The last thing he wanted to do was slow down. But he knew that voice. It was Hermione - Hermione in a good mood. Too rare to miss. He slowed down to match her pace. Her hair was tied back in a bun today - her all-business look. She wore her hair like that when she had Things To Do. Usually, it has fallen down around her face by the time she had actually gotten done - but Ron liked it like that, too. She was stuffing too many books into too small of a bag.
"Oh. Hey you," he greeted her.
"My name is Hermione." She pulled the flap tight over her bag and glared at him.
"Right. Sorry. I always forget." He flashed her his best 'Am I in trouble yet?' smile.
"Sure you do." Her expression softened slightly. "Hey, Ron, where have you been this week?" She hitched the bag up a little higher on her shoulder.
"Here, give me that." He took the bag from her and slung it easily over his own shoulder. "What do you have in here? A small planet?"
"Books, Ron, what else?"
"You shouldn't be carrying so many books around. You'll wear yourself out. At least shrink them or something."
"It's fine, Ron. I have very strong shoulders. Ron. I asked you a question. You're ignoring me."
He nodded slightly at a passing portrait. The tall greying witch blew him a kiss. "Hmm. What was the question again?"
"Where have you been?"
"Why?" He poked her. "Miss me?"
"You wish." Hermione stuck her tongue out at the same portrait. "Just getting a little tired of watching your sister snog Harry at the breakfast table."
"What?" He paled. "They're snogging? Already? Please tell me you're joking."
"I'm joking, Ron."
"Merlin's wand, Hermione. Not funny."
"Ron."
"What?"
"Where. Have. You. Been."
"Fine, nosy. If you must know, I've been working."
"Schoolwork?"
"What, without you? Not bloody likely."
"Quidditch, then?"
He smiled lightly and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, sure, Quidditch. Well, you know how lousy I am, really. I need all the practice I can get."
"Oh, what a load of rubbish. Tell the truth."
"Just working, Hermione. In Hogsmeade."
"But we're not allowed to go to Hogsmeade during the week."
"I have special permission."
"What for?"
"Well, Hermione," he said, speaking slowly as though to a child. "You see, that's what grown-ups do when they need money."
"Ron," she said sharply, ignoring his tone. "What on earth do you need money for?"
"Ah, that, my dear Miss Granger, I can not tell you."
"Are you in trouble, Ron?"
"No." He pushed open the doors of the Great Hall and strode towards the Gryffindor table.
"You'd tell me if you were - right?"
"Right."
"Wrong," Ginny declared as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.
"What?" Ron asked.
"Nothing. I'm quizzing Harry. Harry, try again. Concentrate."
"What are you quizzing him on?" Hermione suddenly looked interested.
"Transfiguration, Hermione, but you can't help him."
"Oh. I don't have transfiguration anyway."
"Yeah." Ron rolled his eyes. "Only because you tested out of it this year."
"Well, it was that or go back to using the Time Turner. I had a lot of classes to take this year."
"Hey, speaking of Transfiguration, will you quiz me as well, Gin?"
"Why? I thought McGonagall was letting you off for today," Harry said.
"Why would McGonagall let Ron off an exam?" Hermione demanded.
"Well, he hasn't got to study much, has he?" Ginny answered reasonably.
"Gin, I study plenty," Ron insisted, his ears going red.
"Why isn't Ron studying?"
"Never mind, Hermione. I've had a lot of practice for Quidditch."
"What, and Harry hasn't? Isn't he seeker?"
"Yeah, well... some of us aren't so naturally gifted as Harry, that's all."
"No... no," Hermione reasoned. "It's not Quidditch at all, is it? You're "working" every night, aren't you, Ron? Why? What's going on?"
"Nothing." Ron was stone faced.
"Only if something was going on, you'd think I would be the first person to know... not the last." She jumped to her feet. "See you later."
"Where are you going?"
"Library," said Ginny and Harry in unison. Hermione glared at them.
"I'm coming with you," Ron said. His face was expressionless. "I told you, I don't want you off by yourself."
Hermione sighed. "Whatever you want, Ron." She looked over at him, lifted her eyebrows, then grabed a pair of stoat sandwiches. She wrapped them in a bit of parchment and stuffed them in a robe pocket.
They walked towards the library. As usual, the female portraits snickered as they walked past. "I don't really want to go to the library," Hermione admitted. "Fancy a picnic?"
Ron lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Sure, if you do."
"Yeah, I do. It's a nice day. I want to go outside."
They walked only as far as the lake, following the water's edge until they were just hidden from sight by the curve of a hill. Hermione sat down in the long, browning grass, looking out towards the dull surface of the water. "Hey, Ron..."
"Yeah?" He sat down beside her and stretched out his long legs.
"Remember fourth year, the second task? When Harry had to-"
"With the merpeople. Of course I remember." He lifted his face towards the sky and chuckled. "Fought off those bloody savages single-handedly-"
"Yeah, yeah, Ron, I heard the story in fourth year. You really shouldn't talk about merpeople like that. Sandwich?" She pulled the wraped sandwiches out of her robe pocket and offered him one."
"Fanks," he said through a mouthful of bread and meat.
"Finish chewing. Have you ever wondered who yours would be?"
"My what?"
"Your, um - the thing you would miss the most, or whatever. You know, like you were Harry's. Which is really cute, by the way, though you should have heard what Malfoy was saying behind your back." She snickered. "Actually, I'm glad you didn't hear..."
"And you can talk, Her-my-own. How is Vicky doing these days?"
"It's not funny, Ron. I really thought he fancied me. I don't want to talk about it."
"Sorry. You never did tell us what happened in Bulgaria."
"Never mind, Ron."
"Would it help if I go kick his arse?" He smiled gently at her.
"Well, it would be funny," she answered with a slight smile in return.
"Funny, eh? Why is that?"
"Cuz you'd end up with a black eye and a broken rib, that's why."
"Oh, yeah? Why's that?"
"Because he weighs twice what you do, Ron."
"Yeah, well, he might kick my arse at muggle dueling, but he could never beat me at Charms. I-"
"Come off it, Ron," she interrupted. "You don't have to beat anybody up."
"Sorry," he answered penitently. Then he surprised her by wrapping his arm loosely around her shoulder. She felt the blood rushing to her cheeks.
"Anyway, Viktor would never have been the thing that I would miss the most," her voice sounded strange ringing in the small space between them. "He was nice, all right, and I liked that he fancied me... it made me feel special."
"Harry, right?"
"Hmmm?" She cautiously laid her head down on her shoulder.
"It would be Harry, right? I mean, he's your best friend."
"Harry's all right, Ron. And, yeah, he's my best friend, that's true. But you're my best friend, too."
"But we fight too much, right?"
"We don't fight all that much, Ron, honestly."
"Sure we do. We've already fought once today and I've only seen you, what, twice?"
"Ron."
"What?"
"Shut it. I'm trying to make a point here."
"Sorry."
"Where was I?"
"Something about Harry."
"Actually, you were talking about Harry. I was trying to talk about you."
"What? No, you were saying that Harry was all right, and you-"
Hermione laughed unexpectedly and turned to look right into Ron's eyes.
"You really are a clueless idiot, sometimes, Ron."
"I'm not, I just-"
"I guess I'm just going to have to make this easy on you, aren't I?"
"What?" He felt himself going red again, though he wasn't sure why. Suddenly Hermione was coming at him. Half her bun had fallen down in the October breeze and he felt the soft tendrils brush against his cheek. Then her lips were touching his, softly, but very definitely. He could hear his heart pounding way up in his ears.
"Hmmmm?" she murmured.
"Oh," he answered. "I, er... I thought you were mad at me." He touched her cheek lightly with his fingers.
"I was," she answered, and he could see a blush spreading across her cheek from where his fingertips touched the pale skin. "But now I'm not. Is that okay?"
"It will be," he answered. The he kissed her, his own kiss this time, longer, and more sure. He could feel her shivering slightly and he wrapped his arms around her neck. She buried her face in his shoulders.
"You're going to be late for class," he whispered.
"So're you," she answered without looking up.
"Nah. McGonagall really did let me off."
"I don't suppose you want to tell me why?"
"Is that what this all about, Hermione? Trying to get me to crack?" He laid down in the long grass and grinned up at the sky.
"Is it working?" she asked with a sly wink.
"Yeah. All right. What about class?"
"Actually, I'm supposed to be studying for Arithmancy this period. Our exam is tomorrow. We don't even have to report to class. And as I already know all of it... I'll be all right. This once."
"Wow, you're really curious. Head Girl skiv-"
"Don't say it."
"All right, I won't. Look, if I tell you... you can't panic or anything, all right?"
"Panic? Ron, seriously, are you in trouble?"
"No," was his firm answer. "Don't ask again. And please don't interrupt me, because I'm going to be very embarassed, and if you make me stop half way, I can't promise to start up again, all right... and you can't be mad, either, because-"
"Ron."
"Right." He twisted a piece of grass into his fist and squinted.
"Couple of weeks ago, I got into it with Malfoy. Don't make that face at me, it wasn't a fight or anything like that. He was just coming after me about you, and about money, and the like, and I didn't know why."
"About me and money?"
"Well, it wasn't the first time, Hermione. Draco knows that I - well, that I... er, that I fancy you," he finished very quicky. "And you know how much he enjoys having any button to push, so-"
"So you do fancy me, then?" she asked eagerly.
"Hermione, were we not just snogging half a minute ago?"
"Yes, but-"
"Right, then. I didn't know what he was on about, but it lasted all day, and we landed detention together with Snape."
"I remember that day! That was the day you skived off detention and landed yourself a week's worth, right?"
"Hermione."
"Sorry," she answered in the tiniest voice imaginable.
"When we got to detention, Malfoy showed me this article from the Prophet about a new law the ministry had just passed. It was about muggleborns and marriage, and-"
"Malfoy showed that to you?"
"You know about it?"
"I do read, Ron. I can't believe you didn't know about it. I remember thinking that Malfoy was going to try and-"
"He is, Hermione."
She went very quiet, then. "Damn," she said finally.
"Yeah. You said it."
There was a long, awkward silence between them. Ron felt a warm drop land on his neck. He sat up straight. "You're not crying, are you?" he asked quickly.
Hermione shook her head and swiped angrily at her eyes. "No. Sorry. Go on."
Ron swore softly. "Look, I'm not going to let him near you. I've been working my arse off, and I've nearly enough gold. There's no way Malfoy's earned as much as me. Some of the teacher's have been giving me odd jobs, and Dumbledore's been letting me sneak off to Hogsmeade at night to work at Zonko's a bit... blimey, Hermione, please don't cry."
Hermione stared at him, stunned. "You've been... oh, Ron, that's... the nicest thing..."
"...Really, you aren't angry? Only McGonagall warned me that you might not be as pleased as I'd hoped, because of the law and how, er evil it was, she said you didn't want anything to do with it..."
"Oh, dear."
"What? It's all right, Hermione, McGonagall knows everything, and she's promised not to-"
"No- Ron, look."
A large black owl with matte black feathers was soaring towards them. It lighted on the grass next to Hermione and held up it's leg for message retrieval.
"Blimey - I've seen that owl before, Hermione, that's..."
"I know, Ron." She unrolled the little parchment and shooed the owl away. "There won't be any answer," she told it. "Get out of here.
The parchment was addressed to: Mrs. Draco Malfoy