Chapter 6
"Sodding hell, it can't be true. Look who's come to grace our humble abode," Seamus Finnigan's voice bounded through the red and golden common room as leisurely conversations slowed abruptly.
"We thought you'd started a House all your own, girly," Parvati chimed in from beneath Seamus' protective arm wrapped about her shoulders. "How is that working out for you, by the way? The solitude bit?"
Hermione let a small, grim smile grace her lips before she licked them and surveyed the familiar area she'd gotten so used to calling home over the years.
"I'm just looking for Ron," she explained tersely, suddenly wondering if she should have called him Ronald. Of course, it felt ridiculous to even have such a thought, but how long ago was it that they'd even exchanged polite 'hello's? It didn't feel like she had the right to utter his nickname; and yet, she'd never really called him Ronald.
Luckily, no one seemed to think anything of the uncomfortable tone of her voice or unfamiliar feeling of calling anyone by something intimate.
Seamus and Parvati simply stared back at her inquiring glance, sometimes sparing a few between themselves, as if silently communicating how strange it was that Hermione suddenly reared her holed-up and tucked-away self to the outside world. Hermione decided she didn't appreciate being gawked at as though she never stepped out to classes or sullied her skin with the sting of sunshine.
"Well… we have no idea where that boy is," Seamus suddenly shared, eyes wide with realization of an expected answer. His eyes quickly strayed to his curious girlfriend who simply pursed her lips, quirked her eyebrows, and shrugged a shoulder in indifference. "He's not much for sticking around the common room and relaying information of his whereabouts."
"You could check the Quidditch field, I suppose," Parvati offered apathetically, studying her manicure. "He's got a match coming up."
"Or you can just check his room," Neville responded uncertainly from behind Hermione, taking his eyes off his homework for the time being as he deposited his quill beside him, dangerously close to the flickering fire. He stared at her for a moment, as though checking if some particular aspect of the top of her head had changed since the last time he'd seen it, when he cut her off as Hermione opened her mouth to speak. "How have you been, yourself?"
The portrait hole bore two grinning, breathless bodies immersed in a light-hearted conversation just as Hermione began her reply.
"…No flipping way Seamus smoked it to get back at Bright at the cottage," Dean assured his companion, waving the possibility away with his hand. "Believe me, I know his Mum and—"
"Whoa, whoa, what are you two…" Seamus began, gawking open-mouthed at his long-time best friend and underage associate in the discussion.
"What did you smoke now, to get back at whom?" Parvati raised an accusing eyebrow at the boy sitting beside her, suddenly shocked and defensive, eyes bearing white flags of surrender.
"Nothing! I didn't smoke anything, I swear on my owl's mail route—nothing," he assured, once again sending a hot glare toward Dean. Dean, meanwhile, watched the amusing scene unfold between his buddy and his bird, finally spreading out his arms in triumph as he heard what he'd been waiting for.
"You hear that? I told you, mate," Dean explained to an unconvinced Colin who was standing amidst the chatter, quietly observed, arms crossed across his robed chest. "Seamus would never…" Dean suddenly noticed the unusual silence in the common room. "Blimey, cats and their whiskers, is that Hermione I see standing in the middle of our common room?"
"The one and only," a third year brunette confirmed from behind Neville's armchair, chin resting on the back as he observed the surprised expressions. "Although I'm still entertaining the idea that someone is pulling a Binns and sent a mirage of Hermione here, just to catch us all off-guard." His eyes quickly met those of his annoyed peers. "Anyone with me?"
"Shut up, Everett," Colin silenced, obviously irritated with the boy's incessant joking.
"Definitely behind that decision," Hermione muttered, aggravated. Looking up, she let a corner of her mouth quirk upward at both of the new arrivals. "Would either of you lads know where Ron could be?"
They both shrugged, obviously engaging in an unusual feeling of nostalgia at the familiarity of Hermione looking for Ron, like the way it used to be.
Hermione rolled her eyes, reminding herself exactly why she kept the sod out of this place when she was in her right mind.
"All right, well, I'm just going to be off then…" she sighed, heading toward the entrance, deciding that having a simple question-and-answer session with Ron was going to be harder than it sounded; even just locating him.
"Wait."
She turned slowly on her heel.
"Everett."
The third year approached her cautiously and looked as though he was going to place a hand on her shoulder for emphasis, but thought better of it at her heated glare.
"Just promise me that you're not an evil mirage of Hermione that was sent here to destroy Gryffindor peace and relay our secrets all over the halls of Hogwarts to aide the Dark Lord in his workings." His green eyes looked at her intensely as she struggled to find the proper words to express her feelings.
"Are you kid—" At the sight of his relentless, serious expectance, Hermione simply pursed her lips and looked down to prevent from leaking a smile, muttering something about that kid getting weirder and weirder since first year. Finally looking back up with a somewhat serious expression, Hermione placed her right hand over her heart resignedly. "I swear on my cat's hairballs, I'm the authentic Hermione you both know and fear."
Subjecting her to another intense gaze of a minute or so, Everett then broke into a large grin and snorted.
"No mirage could be that accurate," he informed her excitedly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I think I heard Ron say something about going down to McGonagall's after dinner."
"Thanks, Evie. The Dark Lord couldn't have put his plan to action without you."
Cho slapped his cheek softly a couple of times, grinning and shaking her head at the same time.
"You're losing your touch, dear," she tutted patronizingly. "You'd never lose a schedule if you weren't."
Draco caught her hand, prying it away from his cheek while his eyes narrowed at her playfully.
"No touching… of the face…" he enunciated before dropping her hand and leaning back in his chair on the two back legs. "And you're a Prefect too, doll. You got the same schedule as I did—and I am neither its nor your keeper."
Cho shook her head again and slung her backpack over one shoulder.
"How many times have we had this same talk, Rack?" Cho asked, a mock-disappointed expression on her face as she leaned back on the table, facing him. "You're my go-to man, not a keeper. And what kind of go-to man doesn't have this week's schedule for me since I lost mine?"
He ignored her pout and set his front chair legs back on the ground.
"The kind that can go to great lengths and kick major arse if you don't stop calling me Rack," he threatened half-heartedly as Cho pushed off the table and headed toward the door. "You make me sound like a set of tits."
Cho's laughter was his only answer as she left without even a glance back toward him.
"Well, if you object to 'set of tits' then perhaps she should've called you a pu—"
Draco grasped the shiny button on the breast of his robe and deliberately shined it in Blaise's face as the boy approached before he had a chance to continue.
"—Prefect badge, prefect badge, oh the power you give me," he grinned maliciously, daring the dark-haired student to continue his sentence.
"Like you're the epitome of all that is pure," the boy retorted, straddling a chair backward as he sat at the table across from Draco. Draco grinned at the allegation.
"Hardly. I just don't like you." His smile dropped. "What do you want?"
"I want to know how our project is going, your blondness," he responded uncaringly. Draco looked mildly shocked that the kid even remembered. "Don't look so surprised. I pay attention in class."
Draco sighed in irritation.
"Well, now I'm just going to have to give you detention for blatantly lying."
"Seriously, man," he continued as though no real threats were issued. "We've got a presentation to make on that Sir Whoever bloke and half of the presenting is expected of me. Whatever Binns was thinking I'm sure was under some sort of illegal influence, but he assigned it nonetheless, so…"
"So you should be offering to help me instead of expecting that I'll do all of the fucking work and then tell you what to say," Draco snapped, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes.
"Whoa," Blaise reeled, holding up his arms in defense, "don't blind me so with all that righteousness and purity. I now see the wrong of my ways in language before."
Without so much as another look at Blaise, Draco stood from his chair, grabbed his knapsack and headed for the door.
"Have fun failing, Zabini. I'm certain it won't hurt to have one more Troll mark to join all the rest on your transcript."
Rolling his eyes, Blaise launched himself from the chair and took a few hurried strides to fall into step with the absconding Draco.
"What hippograff hurdled up your arse, Malfoy?" he shot back, now fairly furious. "We've got to do something about this now, while I was able to track your pale derrière down. I mean, you didn't get back to the dungeons last night until the wee hours of dawn and you didn't even have that 'just got laid' expression about you." He stopped, exasperated, causing Draco to pause briefly, though his face remained expressionless. "And I don't predominantly have any desire to talk to you again, so—"
"You know my 'just got laid' expression?" Draco scrunched up his face as he looked at his housemate. "I'm flattered."
Blaise winked at him.
"Don't be. At least not until you've seen my shrine to you and your Greek-god-like body," he salivated mockingly. Draco smirked.
"Now, I'm really flattered," he flipped him the bird. Blaise caught up with Draco as he began walking again, batting his eyelashes at him.
"Don't tempt me with those ideas, Rack." Walking in front of him, Blaise observed Draco stop—due to the obstruction of his way—and raise an eyebrow at him. "You want me to help you with the project shit this weekend?"
Draco was about to wave it off in an effort to just shake Blaise and be on his merry way anywhere else, but then stopped in his tracks.
"Actually, this weekend's not good for me." He looked at the air before him pensively. "I'm busy one of those days."
Blaise shrugged.
"And can this other day be spared for insignificant activity like sparing your grade?" Draco's brows furrowed in superiority.
"I don't need an entire day to spare my grade; I could do this in my sleep. It's your sorry hide that needs the rescuing. I'm doing this for you."
"Oh, yes, my savior. So which day is good for my salvaging, Christ?" Blaise frowned as he shook his head. "And what the sod is so important this weekend, in any case?"
"Thursday after Quidditch practice," Draco belted out. His eyes narrowed marginally as his defensiveness began to work overtime. "And none of your levitating business."
"Oh, I'm so—" Ginny's eyes bored into Hermione's as they looked at each other from their kneeling positions. The initial shock wearing off, Ginny dusted off her books and picked them up, beating Hermione to the task. Taking her eyes of the brunette's, Ginny cleared her throat and looked away. "Sorry."
"Yeah, me too," Hermione replied cautiously, sensing an air of hostility around the redhead.
Ginny nodded and moved to step around Hermione to hurry up the stairs to her next class.
"Wait… Ginny," Hermione tested it out on her tongue, her friend's name sounding foreign to her, "I… um…"
Ginny pursed her lips and stared at the floor as she waited for Hermione to spit out whatever it was she wanted to say.
"What?"
That snapped Hermione out of it. She wasn't anyone to the redhead anymore. She didn't know why, but Ginny's demeanor spoke volumes. Why was she tongue-tied all of a sudden if Ginny didn't give a crap what she had to say? Hermione wasn't part of the Golden Trio anymore, not Harry's best friend anymore because Harry was dead, so why talk to her?
"Nothing," she replied bitterly, shaking her head at the ground. "Is Ron in there by any chance?"
Ginny looked at the door to the Transfiguration classroom, then back to Hermione. Her expression was one of warning.
"You want to talk to Ron?"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Pretty much the only action I was going to inflict upon him, yes."
Ginny scowled at the unnecessary eye roll.
"Don't. Leave him alone. He doesn't need any of this, especially now." Her hostility, this time in words, spoke volumes. She wanted Hermione nowhere near her brother or herself, for that matter. Hermione was thankful that the rest of the Gryffindor weren't so hostile back in the common room.
"So he's in there?" Hermione asked, a mask of innocence upon her face. Ginny's face gained two shades of red.
"What part of 'leave him alone' entails you needing to know where he is?" She stepped closer; probably a threatening tactic on her part. Hermione chuckled bitterly, looking away for a moment. This was about to get ugly.
"The part where I need to talk to him," Hermione took her own step closer to Ginny. She was vaguely aware of the challenge the younger Weasley was issuing her and the challenge she seemed to be accepting in the process. Despite the temptation to let off some anger and built-up frustration over the whole Harry situation and that whole Draco situation, she didn't want to start a fight. She really hoped it wouldn't come to that. Although, she hadn't a doubt in her mind, that if push came to shove, Weasley arse was going to be kicked.
Ginny's mouth opened to say something when the door beside them opened, and both heads turned to the student in the exit.
"Ginny, what are you still… Hermione?" His face was a mask of confusion, questions compiling in his mind with every passing moment. Ginny simply stepped back and turned her head back to the girl in front of her.
"Nothing, Ron. Hermione was just leaving, was she not?"
Hermione felt the need to roll her eyes again, but refrained from doing so at that particular moment.
"Actually, Hermione was just going to talk to you," Hermione answered, much to the dismay of Ginny and her rising temper. "Do you mind, Ron?"
The redhead just stared at the curly-headed Gryffindor he hadn't spoken to in ages and licked his lips in a diversionary tactic, stunned, and at a loss of words. Just as Ginny was about to speak some more of her mind to Hermione, however, his silence failed him.
"No, it's okay, Ginny. You can go ahead, I'll catch up with you in a minute." He paused to look at his sister. "I'm serious, bodyguard of mine, I'll manage to take care of myself somehow. No matter how tempting it is for someone to take advantage of a helpless six-foot chaser."
Rolling her eyes, Ginny finally departed, without so much as a parting glance of acknowledgement toward Hermione.
"Thanks, I really didn't mean to anger her like that. I wasn't trying to—"
"Fine," Ron held up his hand, then shoved both of them into his pockets. "Is something wrong?"
Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it, speechless.
"Wrong?" she asked confused, as he moved to elaborate. "Oh, no, nothing like that, I just… I just wanted to talk to you about something, and you have to know that this is really, really important, otherwise I wouldn't bother you with this."
Ron nodded in understanding, but made no other sign or expression to show that he was even paying attention to what she was saying. Hermione hated blank, expressionless faces when she talked.
"I wanted to talk…" she ran a hand through her hair, deciding to just approach it head-on. "I wanted to talk to you about Harry… and the day he died. I don't mean to pry, but you did share a dormitory with him, and I just need for you to tell me who he was with… that day and… and who was in the common—" Hermione's brow furrowed as she watched Ron shake his head and walk away. "Where do you think you're going?"
It also pissed her off when people left in the middle of her sentence.
Turning around, Ron looked at her as though searching for some sort of emotion on her face indicating that she understood why he couldn't stay. The stubborn expression on her face signified no such realization and he shook his head again, but less because of his annoyance and more out of pity for her.
He pitied her from his heart more than he could say. And yet, he couldn't help but feel angry with her for doing this to him.
Walking up to her confused and agitated face, he opened his mouth to say something then shut it.
"Do you know why we haven't talked in such a long time, Hermione?" he finally managed to ask, through all of his impossibly heated emotions that caused a suffocating lump in his throat. "No, it wasn't because you locked yourself in your room and refused to open the door, or because you spent all of your free time away from any living, breathing human beings. It was because whenever the rarity of you opening your mouth occurred, it was always about Harry." He raked an irritated hand through his hair as he looked forcibly into her eyes. "Do you think I want to talk about Harry with you? Do you think it's fun for me to relive that day over and over again while you play junior detective?"
Swallowing, Hermione stepped back from his harsh words, her ire inside of her only steadily building, but her words—for the time being—failed her splendidly.
She watched Ron put a hand to his chest emphatically.
"I have finally moved on." Before he walked away, he turned his head back around one last time. "Do the same."
Author's Note:
I am so happy, you guys.
Can you believe that I finished this chapter the very day after I posted the last one? That's got to be some kind of record for me. I mean, I had writer's block with the last one, but this one… this one just kind of wrote itself. Sure, I didn't post it the day after, but come on now, I didn't want to shock the hell out of you guys.
Wow.
Since this miraculous deal happened, you shouldn't expect chapter 7 for at least another 6 months, then.
Ha, joking. I hope. We'll see.
And there's the Ron you people have been wanting to see so badly. Jesus Christ, if Harry's gone, you guys can't possibly be satiated with just having Draco. No, it's all about 'where's Ron?' 'What happened to Ron?' Maybe Ron was never born in this universe. Okay, going a little overboard. You got your Ron.
Anyway, that's it for this chapter.
Hope you enjoyed it.
Beach.