-o-

Chapter 3
Hermione's decision

Nugg was diligently cleaning the chimney of Gryffindor's common room. He put the ashes away in sacks and cleaned the chimney one more time. Then he turned and observed, hands on his small hips, the room. He nodded, satisfied.

The Fat Lady's portrait opened.

The portrait closed.

Nugg kept his eyes on that spot, asking himself if he might have eaten something that made him hallucinate. He shrugged and began to gather the sacks.

He thought he had heard the gentle rushing of a cape. For a moment his pointy nose sniffed the air. Nugg could have sworn he smelled mint fragrance.

From that moment on, Nugg decided to work twice as fast and get the heck out of the tower as quickly as his thin legs allowed.

-o-

Harry Potter awoke from his awful night.

His head hurt. The Occlumency classes Snape was giving him were starting to work, but for the novice Occlumancer it meant that his head felt like it was full of rocks by the time he woke up.

It's funny, thought Harry, how the Ministry of Magic's attitude had changed towards him. After admitting the return of Voldemort, Cornelius Fudge, current Minister of Magic, woke up from his little world of fantasy and landed abruptly in rock-hard Reality. Now there was no doubt that Harry was important, because he was the only chance the world had to get rid of Lord Voldemort.

So, finally, he decided to help out.

The first thing to do, according to Professor Dumbledore's explanations, was to make sure Harry never left his mind open to Voldemort again. They were still connected by the spell that could not kill the Boy Who Lived. Dumbledore demanded that Harry get back to the Occlumancy classes, and the boy didn't complain this time. He had already lost too much by not obeying.

He couldn't help to think on Sirius.

He refrained from punching himself. It was not the best memory to begin a thoughtless morning. He preferred to recall, with joy, the huge surprise the Dursley's had as soon as Harry returned from school. Uncle Vernon had had the fright of his life with Harry's group of friends, but his fright and indignation reached a high-tension peak when the first owl arrived at Privet Drive.

Apparently, Harry was now authorized to use his wand under orders of the Ministry in consideration of the dangers he had a tendency to run into.

If that hadn't been bad enough, private Occlumency classes during summer was torture for all involved; Harry, the Dursleys, and Severus Snape himself.

Snape didn't like visiting a Muggle house at all, let alone three times a week, to make sure Harry was emptying and closing his mind. Dumbledore, however, had made it clear that Voldemort mustn't take advantage of Harry's thoughts ever again. Uncle Vernon and the rest of the family nearly had a nervous breakdown when told that a wizard would visit the house. Harry, in agreement, kept studying Occlumency, due to that fact that if he would have had taken it seriously before, Sirius could still be alive.

Harry remained silent for a couple of seconds. Then he slapped his right cheek.

He mustn't think on him. No matter what happened, he just mustn't think on Sirius.

He opted to recall happier things. For instance, the Dursley's faces every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, when Snape appeared in the living-room of the house.

Having fully awakened, and almost ready to face a new day, Harry got out of bed and began to dress. Only then did he hear the ungodly snores coming from somewhere in the room. Harry couldn't remember Neville snoring like that, ever.

He was surprised quite a bit on discovering that Ron was the culprit.

And he became even more surprised that Ron stank of flowery perfume. And mint.

-o-

"No problem, really," Ron yawned during breakfast. "I just slept badly, that's all."

Harry was not sure he believed that. After much training with Moody (the Order of the Phoenix spent the summer visiting Harry to provide him with short private classes, which left the Dursleys with constant heart attacks) had turned him into a paranoid person. Ron was hiding something from him, and he would give half the gold in his Gringott's vault to find out.

More mint fragrance arrived to his nose, only not from Ron. Harry turned in his seat and saw Hermione sitting next to him. She was exhausted and seemed annoyed.

"Good morning," she said, and yawned strongly. Ron imitated the yawn and Harry had that pinch of suspicion that told him something weird was going on.

"Are you two okay?" he asked at last. Ron choked on his pumpkin juice.

"Of course I'm okay!" he said. "Why? Do I look odd? Something on my face? I'm fine, so is Hermione."

Harry blinked. How could Ron know if Hermione was fine, or not? Harry glanced to the girl. She was asleep in her breakfast dish. He turned again to Ron, doubtful.

"What?"

"Nothing..." murmured Harry.

He hadn't been the only one noticing the strange behavior around Ron and Hermione. Neville asked about the intense smell of mint coming from the both of them, and they excused their selves saying they have been practicing air-deodorizing spells. Lavender and Parvati, some sort of Gryffindor Gossip Accumulation Front Brigade, asked Hermione to share the spell, but she refused. Even Ginny realized something was wrong.

And not only because Hermione. Ginny, who had obtained the position of Chaser on Gryffindor's Quidditch team, told Harry that Ron hardly bothered catching the Quaffles flying toward his rings during training that afternoon.

What unsettled everybody the most, however, was the way Moaning Myrtle's ghost wandered along the castle.

She was singing.

Two nights later, Hermione said a word describing Myrtle that made Ron stop dead in their patrol area.

"Hermione!"

"Well, if it wasn't for her... well...", Hermione grumbled, feeling mad at ninety-nine point nine percent of the world (Ron was the one-tenth that she excluded).

"Now... now, don't push it," Ron shakily consoled her after recovering from the fact that Hermione--his Hermione--had used a swear word.

"It was my fault," Ron went on. "I forgot she often spies on the Prefects. Harry told me... but that was a while ago. And since I hardly use that bathroom, well..."

"Yes, I understand," she sighed. "Anyway, look at the bright side: it could have been Peeves."

Ron considered it and tried to imagine what could have possibly happened if Peeves would have discovered what were they doing.

He shuddered.

"Good point."

They walked past the Prefect bathroom's door and couldn't help gazing at it.

To think that something almost happened in there, they thought at the same time. If it wasn't for that darn Myrtle... No, the bathroom is not safe.

They both kept walking, but without looking where they were going. That thought had made them deeply meditate on something.

Not safe? What, you want to try again? they asked of themselves. Well, then you better find a better place, because we can pretty much forget about the prefect's bathroom.

"I know," Ron and Hermione groaned out loud at the same time.

They stopped and stared at each other, curious about the sudden timing.

-o-

So that was the situation. So they both thought the same way. Ron and Hermione could have their big ideological differences, but on certain specific topics their thoughts found matching points. And now they have just discovered said matching points were, in certain way, forbidden and punishable.

A new debate between lovers took place. They spoke during the patrols, keeping their voices low to avoid being heard. Hogwarts had thousands of ears, not only in the portraits on the walls, but also in the ghosts, the professors, the other students and, of course, the rest of the prefects.

"Look where you're going, Weasley," hissed a voice that dragged the syllables.

"Don't bother, Malfoy," said Ron automatically.

Draco Malfoy walked past them. His expression radiated hatred after five years of seeing Harry get his way. And now he had two new reasons to get furious: a pauper with prefect privileges and a daughter of Muggles with the same benefits.

He hated them all. He hated Harry. He hated him for having put his father in a difficult situation. Lucius Malfoy had been found along with other Death Eaters inside the Ministry, tied up by the members of the Order of the Phoenix. He hated Harry for having sent his father to Azkaban, even though he was now free. It was easy to escape from Azkaban, now that the Dementors didn't torment Voldemort's members.

But he was a fugitive, though everybody thought his son knew his exact hiding location. They were right. Draco knew, and he hated Harry for having done that to his family. He was resolved to everything to make him pay for his daring.

He also hated Ron. He couldn't believe he was a prefect. He couldn't understand how they could give such a position to a moronic fool who in his entire life hadn't seen two Galleons put together. He hated him and all his family, and he really wished he could hurt them, somehow. After all, he had helped Harry to jail his father. He was determined to make him pay his daring.

And then there was... her.

Draco hated poor people having prefect badges, but to let a mudblood have one...

That was not hatred. He had always thought all his hatred was generously dedicated to Harry James Potter. And, however, every time he saw her walking around, showing off her stinking prefect badge... That was not hatred. Hatred was too little for her. What he felt when watching her walk by was such a huge aberration and depreciation, so intense, so powerful that his hand clenched his wand until colored sparks came from it.

Hermione Granger, prefect of Hogwarts. The end of the world, in Malfoy's mind. And she had also helped Harry to jail his father.

A thought concentrated in that mind full of hatred; in that blood pure of magic. A wish for that which was more than hatred. Malfoy understood that he was resolved to do everything to make her pay her daring. And he even scared a little when discovering that, when he said Everything, he really meant Everything.

"You are not in your jurisdiction," he muttered. "You've reached the dungeons, and here the prefects of Slytherin patrol. Go back upstairs, or I will be forced to take points from you. Not that I care, of course."

Ron growled, but obeyed. Draco observed them leave, but his eyes stayed still on Hermione's figure.

He was resolved to do absolutely Everything to make that horrible mudblood pay for her nerve.

-o-

It had been a week since Myrtle interrupted the couple in the prefects' bathroom. Ron and Hermione had managed to sleep well. It wasn't easy for Ron to go to bed without thinking on Hermione in a bikini... or without it. He was thankful he wasn't the one emptying his mind before going to sleep, though sometimes he would have preferred it that way.

Hermione had similar problems. She was used to going to bed with her head full of thoughts, but none of them until now had occupied all her dreams. She was thinking on Ron. She was thinking of all the lost kisses. She was thinking, bitterly, on the lack of privacy in Hogwarts. If they could only admit it... But they weren't sure on how would Harry take it. They wanted to wait for the best moment.

"Legilemens!" yelled Harry, but the spell didn't work. Dumbledore was teaching him to enter into other people's minds. He was hoping Harry could use this skill to find out the true intentions of whoever stepped in front of him.

Right now, in front of him was Neville.

"Saw something?" the other boy asked, full of hope.

"Nothing," Harry lowered his hand. "It's not an easy spell."

It was, in fact, one of the most difficult of the book. Not as difficult as entering an outsider's mind; that could be done; but the challenge was to enter without the other mind's owner realizing it; which was a very different deal.

"You are supposed to empty your mind, the same as with Occlumency," explained Hermione, always willing to help. "Leave space in your mind for the thoughts you'll see."

Harry scowled, but agreed. He had promised himself to pay attention to his friends. If he would have done so the last time...

He slapped himself again.

"Stop doing that, please," asked Hermione.

Harry sighed. He took a deep breath... and aimed Neville.

"Legilimens!"

Silence. Neville spoke.

"Well?"

"Nothing."

"Oh."

Ron walked into the common room and sat heavily on the couch, next to Hermione.

"We have to patrol, tonight," he said. "Separate rounds. You have from second floor to fourth. I have from fifth to seventh." To Harry, he asked, "How's it coming?"

"Awful," Harry muttered. He aimed at Neville with his wand. "Legilimens!"

Neville smiled expectantly.

"Nothing... Bah..." said Harry.

"Separate rounds, then. Well, that's fine by me," said Hermione, but she seemed disappointed. She yawned and stretched. "In that case, I'll go rest a moment. I must be alert for the round."

"Yeah, me too..." whispered Ron.

"Legilimens!" yelled Harry, aiming his wand to Crookshanks.

"Don't lose it, Harry. You'll get it soon."

Harry ignored Hermione and yelled "Legilimens!" to a passing fly. Suddenly he had a slight yearn for sugar. All right, that was an advance.

Later on, that night, Ron patrolled the floors assigned to him. He liked to take points from the other houses, but he never did it if there wasn't a broken rule in the process. Hermione had taught him to be fair about point reduction. Of course, sometimes it was hard to control the Slytherins... but what the heck.

His round proceeded normally. Nothing strange on the fifth floor... all calm on the sixth... nothing unusual on the seventh...

He started to get bored. When Hermione patrolled with him they could chat and argue. Especially, they could kiss at every chance. He realized with every new moment he missed those cute and soft lips more and more.

He sighed. He agreed he wouldn't sleep well, that night.

What we need, he thought, is a private place. Make that really private. We need someplace where nobody can find us. The Shrieking Shack? Not a bad idea... We just have to avoid the Whomping Willow from ripping our heads off with one blow. And besides, maybe Harry will worry for us, take out his map and realize we're no longer in Hogwarts.

No, the Shrieking Shack is scratched out.

He began to walk in circles in a corridor. He no longer kept watch; now he was thinking heavily. He knew he could find a solution to the problem.

Think, he said to himself, think carefully: what Hermione and I need is a private place. A place where we can be alone and can not be bothered by anybody, not even nosy ghosts.

There was a subtle change in his peripheral vision.

When Ron looked in that direction, he surprised to find a door where there had been wall seconds before.

But he surprised even more when looking at what was on the other side of the door.

He stepped back and observed the hall he was in. He smiled.

"But of course... I'm so dumb..."

-o-

Hermione listened carefully to Ron's whispers, later that night in the common room.

"The Room of Requirement?" she whispered, unable to admit she was so stupid for forgetting such a wonderful discovery.

Of course, it was the best place. The only place. It was the Room of Requirement, which hid in the seventh floor of the castle, waiting for someone with a huge need. It would materialize in that room what the visitor so desired. She had already heard sightings of the room becoming a bathroom full of toilets, broom storage for hiding, and a small clinic for house elves whom had overdosed on alcohol, and Hermione herself had seen with her very own eyes the astonishing training room obtained for the DA sessions. Of course, now that Umbridge was nothing but a bad memory, Dumbledore had considered the idea of the DA quite amusing, and had provided a large classroom for the group practices, which now reached thirty members.

That meant the Room of Requirement was available. Available for whatever Ron and Hermione would want to do.

His mind froze. What do you mean "whatever we would want to do?"

You know what I mean, naughty girl. Tee-hee...

Hermione had decided, several nights back, that the second little voice in her head would bring her an awful lot of trouble. Maybe because it always spoke honestly.

"We could... go there... during the next round," Ron whispered while they pretended to watch Harry practicing Legilimancy on Ginny. "Or any night we want."

His voice sounded with trembling expectation, the same one can find in those people who take a shotgun and stare at the multitude of tranquil pedestrians while they show a demented smile and think "I want some fun".

Hermione scared a bit upon discovering that she was thinking the same way. This whole Runaway Hormones' business was resulting in much worse anxiety than the final tests, because the good thing of final tests, the really good thing of final tests, was that you only had to study books and do some practical exercises.

With the topic of love, it seemed that books were not quite needed.

"Legilimens!" yelled Harry. "Were you thinking on a green midget?"

"No, I was thinking on Moaning Myrtle," declared Ginny.

"Close enough... Not really. Bah, I hate this..." Harry closed his eyes and proceeded to empty his head.

"Haven't you noticed Myrtle is acting weird?" Ginny asked Ron and Hermione all of the sudden. "It's like if she knows some secret and doesn't want to tell. What's wrong with you two?"

Ron and Hermione had blushed at the same time. Harry, Ginny and a couple of students who had stayed in the common room out of curiousity stared at the teenagers on the couch.

"It's hot," lied Ron.

"I'm sleepy," excused Hermione.

"And tomorrow we have classes."

"We should go to sleep."

"Yes, good night."

"Good night."

"Bye."

Ron and Hermione stood up, yawned in a strange way and walked to the stairs.

"Well, good night," Harry whispered.

While he was climbing the first steps, Ron heard Harry was practicing again with Ginny. He was heard yelling "Legilimens!" and Ginny replying "Won't work that way..."

Ron scratched his nape and went to the dormitory.

-o-

It was meticulously planned. Hermione even felt like a criminal mind analyzing the security system of the most efficient and secure bank in the world, except this was not about a bank and she didn't look forward to robbing the main vault.

What Ron and Hermione wanted was time of their own.

There was a problem. A huge problem. The worst problem two people in love will eventually face at some point of their relationship: a moral problem.

It could only be compared with a good yawn. To yawn makes one feel comfy. A good yawn is always accepted, it seems to relax most of the body. But here's the thing, when the yawn is interrupted by an outside element, one has that horrible feeling of not being able to yawn again.

Hermione felt something alike since the incident with Myrtle. The phantom girl had interrupted her little demonstration of love. Now Hermione felt, with certain fright, that she wanted to give much more than kisses to Ronald Weasley.

Hermione brought the topic during the next round with him, and the debate that comment generated was bigger than any of the previous ones. So big it was they even extended it during two days in a row, talking about that in every free moment of privacy. The problem was not that Hermione wanted to try something more with her next love escapade, not even that Ron had thought "something more" would be "much more"...

The real problem was that Hermione, in a deep corner of her mind that would make the submarines that found the Titanic die of embarrassment, was wishing it would end in "much, much more".

And it began to be noticeable to others. Hermione, who had never shown a sign of being out of her mental balance (except the day before a test) was now acting in a way that soon caught the attention of others, especially Ron. To begin with, her spells deviated slightly due to gently trembling hands. She stuttered a bit when talking, especially when answering questions in class. And, for some reason no one really wanted to know in detail, she blushed quite often.

Ron was different, she thought. Ron freed his pressure by insulting the Slytherins, kicking stuff and, of course, Quidditch. Yes, the Quidditch allowed him to release most of his pressure, that's why he hasn't changed.

Hermione shivered. In fact, it was Quidditch what had him as sharp as a needle. That sport practice consumed all the adrenaline his romantic visions produced each night. What's more, now that he was able to sleep again, he was playing much better.

Hermione didn't like sports. Hermione didn't insult anyone. All Hermione did was read, write, and study. And that freaked her. She didn't have any escape valve for all that was accumulating inside of her, and she had the accurate sensation there wouldn't be a way to stop the flow once it opened. If she couldn't find any way of releasing some of all that, her next escapade with Ron in the Room of Requirement would be... would be...

You don't even want to think on that, naughty girl. Tee-Hee-Hee, I can't blame you. You were so cute and educated for so long, but you have nibbled on the forbidden fruit... and now you want it all for you.

"Shut up!"

"What did I say??", Ron jumped aside.

Hermione returned to Reality and recalled she was currently patrolling the sixth floor along with Ron. She was thinking about the famous escapade when her mind began to drift in no defined direction. Better said (and for the worst of it), in a direction totally defined.

She didn't want to say it. No, no she didn't. It was not correct. It was not allowed. They were young, they mustn't do it. Yes, she wanted to say it, but couldn't. She wanted to suggest things she would have never believed she was willing to do, and each time it was harder to keep them inside. If she didn't do anything soon, she'd explode.

"I'm sorry, Ron..."

"You've been acting odd, lately. Are you sure you're fine?"

"Yes," she lied.

They walked for a while, until Ron decided to speak.

"We don't have to do it, if you don't want."

Hermione looked at him out of the corner of the eye. Ron went on.

"The Room of Requirement thing, I mean. Maybe it's a mistake to try. I don't think it'll be good for you."

He was worrying for her. No, I can't tell him. I can't do it. We are too young; it's not the right time.

"I just want the best for you," Ron said in low voice. "Truly, I'm worried. I wish I could know what's with you. I would really want to help you."

Oh, no, no, don't do this to me, Ron... Don't say that... Don't make it easier for that other voice in my head. Shut up! Yes, I'm talking to you, stupid little pervert! Get out of my head!

No, thanks, I'm comfy in here. Have you seen how handsome is he, today?

I can't believe this is happening!

I can, Tee-Hee...

"Hermione...", Ron started, and stopped. Hermione imitated him and turned. Her beloved had his eyes fixed on his shoes. "Look... I don't want anything bad to happen to you. You haven't been the same since... that time. I know it's my fault."

Nooo! Ron, shut up! Don't go on! You're killing me!

"So... I've decided to stop this for good," he glanced up. "Maybe we should forget about us."

The silence that followed to his declaration was so dense it could have been cut with a knife. Not even the voices inside Hermione's head interrupted the calm. Hermione tried to consider it all, but failed.

"What?", she whispered.

"It's for your own good," he said, lowering his sight again. "I believe you are kind of hysterical, or something, and it's probably my fault. I mean, it shouldn't happen to you, you always do things right and... and that's it. Hermione, I want you to recover, to be back to your old self, and if that means..."

He paused. Hermione saw his gesture of pain.

"... and if that means... stop loving you, then... Hermione, then I will give it a try."

He's doing it for you, said a voice in the head of the girl. Hermione couldn't figure out which one was. He's doing it for you, girl. He's quitting loving you only for you. He believes he's responsible. He believes he is the problem. And now he quits loving you because you don't know what you want. Or maybe I should say, you don't want to admit that how much you love goes against all you believe and respect.

But, what's more important: what you believe, or what you love?

Hermione heard the inner voice talking calmly and softly. Her lower lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears. The hell with rules, she thought.

"Ooff! Her... mio... nneee!"

Ron tried hard to survive the hug. Hermione had glomped him and her arms had become as strong as a bulldozer's claw, trapping Ron like a pearl in a clam. The girl began to cry.

"It was me!", she said. "It was my fault, Ron! Not you! Of course it wasn't you! It was me and all these impulses and retained feelings! It was me!"

"All right... calm down... and let me go... Please..."

Hermione loosened the hug, but didn't release him. She cried on his shoulder for a long while, during which Ron looked everywhere, trying to avoid being seen. When she finally calmed down, Hermione stepped back.

"Ron, I can't take this anymore. I want you to listen to me, because I don't want to hide it any longer," she said in a most watery tone. "I want to show you how much I love you, and I want to do it in the most intense way. Ron... I... I...", she bit her lower lip. More tears flowed from her eyes. The words got stuck in her throat, but she no longer wanted them there. She wanted them out, in the air, in her beloved's ears. She didn't care anymore. "I want to spend a private night with you."

Well, about time you admitted it, said her frisky voice. Although I would have used other words.

Ron opened his eyes widely, his jaw was slightly dropped. So many thoughts have crossed his head that now all the exits were heavily jammed. When he spoke again, he tried to stay as calm as possible.

"H-H-Herm-m-m-mmione... W-We are t-t-too y-youn-n-ng...", he stuttered, demonstrating a most spotless failure.

"I know! But... I can't go on like this, and I don't want to drag you to anything you don't want!"

He hugged her, strongly. He was right when hoping that would give him some extra seconds to think. He released her and stared straight into her eyes.

"Hermione, you know how my mind works. Well, kinda. Eh... Look, I won't deny I had already had fantasies with all that and... eh... well, of course, the visions are one thing, but I don't think we should... we should..."

She took his hands. They gazed at each other. The voice Hermione used next was much calmer and lighter. And honest. Very honest.

"We don't have to... do it all," both blushed. "I think we can... we can... allow ourselves to... to reach... something. But not it all. I don't know if you understand me."

"To reach something, but not it all," repeated Ron to himself. "Yes... Actually, I understand it perfectly."

They kept their eyes on each other. Their hands squeezed.

"We have a lot to plan," he whispered.

"Quite a lot," she nodded.

They kissed. It was one of those long kisses that often come with background music. Violins. It lasted more than one minute, but for them it was mere seconds. They resumed their round holding hands, starting to plan the biggest rule-breaking a happy couple could have ever considered doing in Hogwarts castle. They were willing to do everything for love.

Two seconds after Ron and Hermione turned on a corner at the end of the corridor a third person leaned around the other end and glued his eyes towards the opposite side of the hall.

He thought about everything he had just heard. He wasn't quite sure if he should laugh like a maniac or combust with hatred. He opted for impartiality.

His fingers toyed with his wand. His eyes couldn't move from that corner. His mind was beginning to make plans on its own, and he felt proud of all those evil thoughts.

Certainly, Draco Malfoy was resolved to do everything, absolutely everything, to get revenge on those who humiliated his last name. He decided to make them pay expensively, quite expensively, extremely expensively for showing their horrible, dirty Gryffindor nerve.

-o-