Disclaimer: The one from the first couple of chapters still applies.
Chapter 2: Gotta Knock a Little Harder
"So let me get this straight," said Dean, from where he was laying, sprawled out on his four-poster. "You're coming to Seamus and me for… advice on what to do about Hermione."
Ron was already regretting ever initiating this conversation.
"Yeah," he said.
"Because Harry refused to help you—" Dean continued.
"'Don't know and has no opinion' my arse," muttered Ron angrily under his breath.
"And you've decided going to her dorm mates would be useless, despite the fact that they've shared a room with her for six years now, and would be a much better authority on how girls think?"
He knew Dean was intentionally making him feel dim, but hesitantly nodded anyway.
"…And you're asking me to do this for you after you demolished any chance I had with your sister?" asked Dean with a mutinous look on his face.
Aside from being very embarrassed, Ron was starting to feel very nervous as well.
"Um… er… yeah?"
"Merlin, you're pathetic, Weasley."
"Seems that way," agreed Seamus from his own four-poster.
Ron felt his face begin to heat up.
"Look, do you think I mean to be such a prat to Hermione?"
Dean went back to sketching something on a piece of parchment. Seamus simply shrugged.
"Seems that way," he said again.
"C'mon, I need your help—" Dean snorted from his bed, but Ron ignored him and kept speaking, "If I don't sort this out with her, I'm going to be in very deep shite…"
"Seems that way," said Seamus amicably.
Ron had a hard time stopping himself from growling in frustration.
Dean looked up from his drawing. "Ron, I'm not helping you. Even if I had advice for you, which I don't, I'm not feeling very charitable towards you at the moment."
He didn't have to ask why. He also didn't need a mirror to tell him that his face and ears had turned an extraordinary shade of red.
"What about you?" he demanded, rounding on Seamus, "I suppose you don't have any advice to offer, either?"
Barely able to keep his face impassive, Seamus looked at the irate red-head. "Seems that way."
Unable to control himself any longer, Ron roared in frustration and stomped out of the dorm and down the stairs to the common room, where he proceeded to thoroughly scare a group of first years before throwing himself into his favorite chair in front of the fire.
Once they were sure that Ron was out of hearing range, Dean and Seamus burst into hysteric laughter.
No more than two minutes after Ron threw himself, scowling, into his armchair, Harry came flying into the common room. Ron noted that he had a very strange expression on his face—from what he could tell, it was half excitement and half blatant confusion. After quickly looking around the common room, Harry spotted Ron and made his way over to him post-haste.
"Ron," he said breathlessly, "you'll never guess what happened in Occ… erm… in remedial potions."
Seeing as he was still very peeved at the general lack of help or understanding coming his way, Ron felt he could be forgiven for his lack of enthusiasm.
"Snape transfigured himself into a red-eyed coyote?" he guessed listlessly.
"No, he… what?"
Ron sighed. "Nevermind. What happened?"
Now that he knew he had his best friend's full attention, Harry happily plopped down into a conveniently located over-stuffed chair.
"Well, it happened right near the end of the lesson," he began, "I'd been doing rather well, I think, but I was getting tired and Snape managed to get in… made me remember Sirius."
Here, Harry's excitement dropped off a bit, and as Ron watched him collecting himself, he felt guilty for his irritability. His friend really had too much to deal with these days.
"Anyway," continued Harry, "I forced him out and ended up in his mind."
"But you've done that before, haven't you?" questioned Ron, failing to see what was so exciting.
"Yeah, but here's where it gets interesting… I saw a bit of one of his memories. He was… somewhere, I couldn't really tell where it was—everything was completely white—but he was talking to Sirius." Harry paused here before saying, with much less certainty, "And I think… my Dad was there as well."
There were a couple moments in which Ron was trying to flounder around for something to say in response to this, before he finally asked, "How do you know it wasn't a really old memory?"
"I… it just wasn't; I can't explain how I know, but I do."
"Okay, well… that is, what do you suppose it was, then?"
"I have no idea."
After that, the pair sat in silence, Harry staring into the fire with an almost-smile on his face, and Ron puzzled over what he'd just been told, puzzled over Hermione, and puzzled in general.
When a few minutes had passed, Ron finally had to break the silence.
"Harry," he said.
"Hmm?"
"Will you please help me with Hermione?"
Much to Ron's chagrin, Harry simply shot him an amused look, stated he was going to send Lupin a letter, and made his way out of the common room.
Ron was left in the same mood as he was when Harry initially burst in, and had a similar scowl on his face. Ginny, who had come down the stairs in time to see Ron's last question (and its subsequent non-answer), sat down in the chair that had just been vacated.
"You two have a fight?" she asked, smirking.
Ron glared at her and muttered the response. "No, so can it. You're being obnoxious."
Ginny was unrepentant.
"Huh. Really?"
"I said can it! He can do whatever the hell he wants!"
With that, he stormed away.
Ginny watched her brother leave, still wearing the same smirk on her face. She rolled her eyes.
"Oh god, men are such babies."
She spared some time to laugh over her brother's many issues, but not very long after he stomped off, her chair was once again vacated, and she was gone through the portrait hole.
In between looking up another piece of information on Francois Tivrusky IV (a strange witch who insisted on calling herself Edward, but was primarily known for inventing several strange and unique—but seldom used—potions), and scrawling a sentence onto her parchment, Hermione sighed contentedly. The library was her sanctuary and, as far as she was concerned, was vastly unappreciated. Here was where she went for her precious books, where she went for quiet, and where she went to isolate herself from Ronald Weasley and his abominable snoring.
"Hey Hermione," she heard, followed by someone plunking down in the chair opposite and casually dropping a couple books on the table.
The library, Hermione continued in her musings, was also where she went in order to avoid all people of the Weasley variety in general. Usually, the tactic was wonderfully effective, as most of them seemed to have a strong aversion to it. But of course, Ginny Weasley lived to defy all rules and precedents.
"Hello, Ginny," Hermione replied without looking up from her essay.
"What are you working on?"
"An essay for Potions."
Ginny leaned over the table in order to read some of what Hermione had written down. "'One of Tivrusky's most well-known innovations was the Radical Intellect Elixir, which served to drastically- albeit temporarily- increase one's comprehension and ability to memorize facts. However, the potion soon fell out of favor as it also induced radically lowered inhibitions and a skyrocketing energy-level…'"
She settled back down in her own chair. "Fascinating," she said drolly.
Hermione finally looked up from her parchment, frowning slightly. "I think it's rather interesting."
"You think everything's rather interesting. But do you know what's much more interesting?"
The bushy-haired girl made no reply, but raised an eyebrow expectantly.
Ginny grinned. "The frantic way my dear brother is acting, in all of his attempts to make up for what happened this morning."
Hermione tsked and went back to her book, muttering under her breath. "…even Binns noticed, honestly… never takes anything seriously…"
Ginny Weasley, however, was very proud of her skills of observation, and did not miss that the other girl was trying and failing from keeping her mouth from turning up at the corners.
"So," began the red-head with a smirk on her face, "I know you're not as clueless as Ron, so when are you going to stop beating around the bush and get rid of some of that… frustration… you two have been working up? I mean, Merlin knows why you're attracted to that prat, of all people, but when are you going to acknowledge what's going on between you two?"
Hermione had stopped writing for a beat, but then continued on her essay, as if Ginny hadn't spoken. When she had waited a few moments for a response and none was forthcoming, Ginny was about to speak again, but she was beaten to it.
"You've had a few boyfriends," said Hermione casually, "yet you've never been particularly upset when you break up or your brothers chase them away." She stopped speaking for a moment as she quickly scribbled something in the margins of the book, but then continued, "It's kind of curious. Is there something… or someone, perhaps… that you're waiting for?"
Ginny glared at Hermione. As far as she was concerned, that was way below the belt.
"What does that have to do with it?" she asked stiffly.
"Nothing at all," replied Hermione calmly.
After drawing a deep, calming breath, Ginny asked, "So when are you going to answer my question?"
"When you answer mine."
The red-haired girl stared at Hermione in disbelief for a few seconds before huffily opening her transfiguration textbook and beginning an essay for McGonagall.
Author's Notes:
Augurey Song- I'm glad you enjoyed the image of Padfoot and Prongs in angel costumes. There'll be more of them in the future… wink, wink
Sandcastles-at-Midnight- Thanks!
