Author's Notes: I honestly cannot believe that I haven't updated since DECEMBER. I'm so embarassed. I'm sure you've all forgotten who I am by now... you probably can't remember anything about the story, either, because I know that even I had to go back and re-read a good portion of it before I could write this chapter. With the Half-Blood Prince coming out in July and the fourth movie premiering in November, recently, I just kind of got into a Harry Potter mood and decided to continue this story. I really have no intention of dropping it, because it has grown so much and is possibly my best fan fiction I have ever written.
I know for a fact I'll be updating this story MUCH MORE this summer... one update in five months is pathetic. I know that. But like I said, school's out and I won't be traveling too much in the next couple months, so I'll definitely be around. And I've had a revelation... I also have a new-found devotion to BCD, which means I'm even less likely to abandon it now. True, I have become less of a Potter-fanatic lately, but that doesn't mean I have to totally give up my love for Harry.
I must apologize ahead of time for this chapter. I am aware that it is probably the dullest one so far, which is not a good thing for a reader to hear before they are about to read it. Please don't let that keep you from reviewing... if I find that you all have lost interest, I may as well just dump this fic, which I really don't want to do. Anyway, Hermione does a lot of thinking in this chapter, or rather, you really get a picture of what's going on inside her head concerning a few topics. It kind of builds up for a few things to come and gives you some necessary background information. Of course, the upcoming chapters will be far more interesting and suspenseful... I don't intend to bore you all up until the end. You haven't waited five months for that.
Another thing I must address is the issue of Hermione and Ron... or lack there-of. I know I said this would be a HG/RW fic, and it is... or at least, will be quite soon. It's just so difficult to incorporate everything into this story, and weaving it into an interesting fashion so that it all makes sense and ties in together is hard. I've screwed a few things up, mentioned something or other and then never used it again, written one thing and then something contradictory... hopefully you haven't noticed too many mistakes. I also forget things that I brought into the story back in the early chapters - I'll try to do a better job of not forgetting from now on. As I was saying, I'm promising you that something will happen between Hermione and Ron; I didn't want to rush into anything with the two so early, because you all must understand the animosity and hurt between them. I also definitely don't want this to turn into a sappy, cheesy love story... that isn't the real plot here. But I agree it would be nice to have some of that on the side. What's a story without some good romance?
I think that's everything I had to say... I do hope there are people still reading this. Don't give up hope on me, please. Without you and your reviews, this story is nothing!
If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask in a review. And look for a new chapter shortly after this one.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
CHAPTER NINETEEN: THE AFTERMATH
The final days of term passed by excruciatingly slow at Hogwarts. While blankets of snow fell mercilessly from the cloudy skies outside the walls, inside students were preparing for their winter leave. Professors were gleefully looking forward to two weeks devoid of teaching and accidentally began expressing their good moods in their classes. Desdemona, who was notorious for assigning large amounts of work over the holidays, had been letting her students leave class without so much as a page to read or a note to take. In recent days, Flitwick had abandoned any hope at teaching a lesson and instead left his students to sprout tinsel and mistletoe out the ends of their wands. As many noticed, even Professor Snape decided to give up torturing students and could usually be found pacing at the back of his classroom, his dark head down in concentration and no cruel or sardonic remarks escaping from his mouth.
Despite the fact that the castle was bustling with activity, in a few short days' time it would soon be almost empty of life. Students were eagerly looking forward to the Christmas holidays and many, if not all seemed to be spending their vacations away from the school and home with their families. It was rather uncommon to come across a young witch or wizard who would be happy in saying they would remain at Hogwarts over the holidays.
With the obvious holiday decorations present, inside the school and out, the end of the term should have been quite joyful and merry. It was, after all, many a wizard's favorite time of the year, and there was no reason not to look forward to the long break that adults and students alike would soon be enjoying.
It was, however, not joyful or merry in the very least.
A shadow of horror hung over the school like some dark, permanent presence. The corridors were cold and bitter with terror. Students were frightened of solitude and could constantly be found moving around the school like packs of wolves. The professors, who in past years had always been beacons of hope and safety in times of trouble, were as troubled as anyone. During any given lesson, a professor would nervously glance about the room, through the windows, down the hall – it seemed as if concentration was scarce in Hogwarts, especially amongst the elders.
Hermione witnessed this silent pandemonium day after day and was vividly reminded of her own second year, a time when a mysterious beast was roaming free about the school and attacking students at will. She had hoped never to be reminded of anything so dreadful but found herself wishing in vain. The day the missing girl was discovered in the Forest, McGonagall had called an assembly in the Great Hall to explain the tragic misfortune. The reaction of the students was as predicted – shock, terror, disgust, panic. Only hours later owls began flying in from concerned parents, begging that their children be sent home, demanding answers, criticizing McGonagall and the staff, and wildly expressing their own worries and suspicions about the situation. Needless to say, the school, including all who inhabited it, was in unbelievable chaos.
When an event as horrifying as a murder occurs, the area in which it was committed becomes a symbol of fear. No one, adult or child, was allowed to enter the Forbidden Forest on any grounds, not that anybody had any intentions of doing so. A ghastly veil seemed to be draped over Hogwarts – Hogwarts, the once brilliant and majestic school, was now hampered with the burden of a gruesome death.
Quite appropriately, new rules were strongly being enforced within the Hogwarts walls. Hermione, along with the rest of the school, heeded McGonagall's advice and her fresh cautions set to protect the staff and students. As they were all constantly reminded, a ferocious murderer who obviously had no problem with attacking innocent wizards was on the loose; whether the killer was a student, a professor, inside the school, or outside, no one had any means of knowing. Hermione knew that it was one thing when a dangerous person was lurking around the grounds with intentions of homicide, but it was another thing entirely when that very person could have been be any person, even the simplest ones that Hermione came in contact with every day. While she hoped none of her students would be as cold-blooded as to harm a fellow peer, she also prayed none of her coworkers were any more murderous than they looked.
The Ministry was brought into the whole situation, of course. As McGonagall explained, it would look terribly suspicious on their part if they attempted to conceal such a disaster, and somehow, the news would eventually leak out to the media. Almost immediately, the Minister himself and a group of investigators arrived at the scene. Students watched curiously from the windows up at Hogwarts while the officials marched across the lawns of their school. Soon after, more Ministry employees, along with Healers from St. Mungo's, had begun appearing, and quite a large crowd had formed down along the baseline of the Forbidden Forest. In less than half an hour later, the Minister and McGonagall re-emerged from within the depths of the trees, this time accompanied by a strange, deformed figure on a floating stretcher. And almost as soon as they had came, the wintry grounds of Hogwarts were empty of human life once more, save for the many sets of footprints scattered in the snow, and it seemed as if nothing horrifying had occurred at all.
The entire school knew, however, that something horrifying had happened, and it was not going to be easily wiped from their minds anytime soon.
"So, in conclusion," Professor Granger said, pacing back and forth at the front of her classroom of fourth-years, "in order to successfully transform a broom into a swan, what key factors are needed?"
It was a sunny afternoon, the last afternoon that Hogwarts students would be spending at the school before the holidays. The intense light of the sun reflected its rays off the snow that was still covering the grounds, illuminating the scene brilliantly and blinding any who dared to chance a glance out the windows. After much confusion and chaos only days before, the school had been oddly stoic and quiet as of late. Many students and teachers alike had been counting down the hours till the last class of the day, now leaving only minutes until the final bell would ring. Hermione had been drilling her students for the past hour and a half, attempting to squeeze out as much information as possible from their minds before everything was forgotten once again over the break. Unfortunately, she had not been very triumphant.
In response to Hermione's question, all hands were kept down. The fourth-years avoided her gaze and pretended to be mildly interested in the woodwork of their desks. The frustrated professor was aware that her students did know the answer to the question asked, but instead they decided to pretend as if they were rather stupid.
"Well, anyone?" Hermione begged. She stopped pacing to stare her class down. "We've gone over this before. Remember the lesson earlier this week? The key factors are... the key factors are..."
"Please, Professor," whined a small voice. "We've only got a few minutes left and then we're free – can't you give us a break?"
Many others agreed in timid tones, none able to look at the professor and all anxiously glancing towards the door. Hermione moved her eyes across the class, staring into the face of each student, attempting to decipher their individual thoughts, until her gaze fell upon an empty seat in the center of the room. With a pang, she realized this was the seat of Irene Farnsworth, the child so ordinary she was almost invisible, and so unfortunate she was now dead.
"Er – well." Hermione adopted her severe professor-tone and placed her hands on her hips. "I suppose I could let you off easy, since it's the holidays and all... but I expect each and every one of you to study vigorously over break. Or at least give it a shot. I don't want my students to come back next year duller than when they first arrived."
Several students gave pitiful sighs, looking reproachfully at the clock on the wall and exchanging pathetic glances. In an instant, Hermione felt sorry for scolding the class; they were going through a tough time, after all. The last thing any student needed before break was their professor ordering them to study vigorously on their vacation.
"We'll review when term resumes," Hermione said, discarding the remainder of the day's lesson plans into the trashcan. "You may leave when the bell sounds – I'll be in my office. Have a nice break."
The class began to murmur amongst themselves as Hermione gathered her papers and retreated into the solitude of her office. The small room was very studious-looking but fit Hermione's personality well; the dark, wood-paneled walls and shiny floor made for a very comfortable atmosphere. She felt a bitter breeze against her cheek and realized her window was ajar, though she had not remembered leaving it open. Hermione crossed the room and leaned against the ledge for a moment, letting her eyes roam about the empty Hogwarts grounds. The winter breeze chilled her face but she didn't mind – in a strange way, she rather enjoyed the wind biting at her nose and chapping her lips. In the distance, Hermione could see the tree line of the Forbidden Forest, looking as menacing as ever and now serving as a dark symbol of mystery to the entire school. A shiver involuntarily ran up her back as the image of a corpse hanging from a thick tree entered her mind, but she quickly forced the sinister illustration to leave before she could dwell on it too long.
Suddenly, there was a sharp smack! from the back of the office, and Hermione was rapidly pulled out of her thoughts. Her hand automatically flew to the inside of her robes and in an instant her wand was produced. Twirling around and preparing herself to shout the first curse that came to mind, her eyes fell upon a large dictionary lying in the center of the floor. Her gaze then traveled upward to where she found a classy, bronze owl perched atop her bookshelf. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Hermione lowered her wand and advanced towards the creature, which was pecking around the shelf and causing several more books to topple over onto the floor. She wasn't quite sure what she had expected to find in the back of her office; more deranged Nifflers, perhaps? But ever since the accident in the Forest, the instincts she picked up during spy training had been on high alert. A suspicious-looking bowl of porridge at breakfast, strange shadows in the corridors at night - nearly anything sent her hand creeping towards her wand. Naturally, Hermione wasn't the only apprehensive person in Hogwarts. Just the day before during passing time in between classes, she had been discussing lesson plans with Ginny in an unusually busy hallway when a flash of light and several yells caught her attention. Rushing towards the scene, she had found a very shaken Professor McGonagall grasping her wand tightly, her eyes glued to the floor where a quite ugly snail had curled up inside its shell. After restoring the snail to its human form (it turned out to be a burly Slytherin seventh-year, the kind that made first-years cry just in passing, staring at McGonagall with a look of pure fright on his face), clearing out the corridor of the other interested students, and assuring the professor that no harm was done, the story came out that McGonagall had sworn the Slytherin was about to hex a first year and she turned him into a snail without thinking. Ginny stood at Hermione's side, suppressing giggles, as McGonagall's face turned a lovely shade of maroon before she left the scene with a never-before-seen countenance of embarassment on her face.
The owl hooted softly and stetched out its enormous wings, knocking a miniature globe of the earth off the shelf and into Hermione's arms. She set it aside and reached for the animal, which promptly hopped onto her out-stretched arm. A piece of parchment was clenched in its beak, she realized, and Hermione's stomach did a violent somersault. Many possibilities of what it could contain raced through her head, each as unpleasant as the next, for on countless times before had a letter arrived via owl in difficult times, only to bring even more distressing news. She pried the parchment from the owl's beak, though it seemed reluctant to let go. The owl then gazed at her with deploring eyes, but soon took flight after Hermione announced she had no owl treats, so there was no point in staying.
She unraveled the letter to find that it was from none other than the Ministry of Magic, which she had half expected. Glancing down the paper, she found the message to be rather short, and felt her hands loosen as she realized that no bad news had been brought. Her eyes traveled back up to the top where she read,
Miss H. Granger:
The Ministry has recently been notified of the unfortunate events that have occured at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Concerning this, you are requested to attend a mandatory meeting at our offices on the twentieth of December, beginning promptly at noon. All other information will be released at the given date and time. It is cautioned that you remain alert during the remainder of your stay at Hogwarts.
Sincerely,
Joanne Kirk
Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic
Hermione quickly re-read the letter before discarding it onto her neatly-organized desk. Hardly any information at all was given in the short message, so there wasn't much for her to decipher - but what did it mean by "remainder of your stay at Hogwarts"? Surely they wouldn't reassign her, or even worse, fire her? Hermione knew she had an important position at Hogwarts; McGonagall had said she was there for a more significant reason than to fill the position of Transfiguration professor, which was bluntly obvious. Though Harry and Ron were valuable as well, Hermione knew everything was worth nothing without the third part of the trio - herself. Agents were just as sly and cunning as Aurors, which made Hermione quite useful in such a situation.
But the thought of having to evacuate the case, evacuate Hogwarts even, made Hermione's heart sink. Leave it to the Ministry to be so meddlesome, she thought bitterly as she strode across her office to the window that was still open from the entrance of the owl. The bell had sounded long ago and her last class of the year - last class ever, perhaps - had already left for dinner, which she knew had probably just begun. Reaching to close the window, Hermione looked out at the sky, which no longer was radiating sunshine but now contained threatening-looking storm clouds, and realized how heartbroken she really would be if she was forced to be removed from the place.
Her stomach grumbled painfully and she noticed how hungry she actually was. After picking up the books strewn across the floor and re-placing them neatly on her bookshelf, Hermione exited her office and headed down the Transfiguration corridor towards the Great Hall. Her own footsteps reverberated throughout the silent and still Hogwarts halls; the entire student body seemed to be attending their last dinner before Christmas vacation, leaving Hermione alone in isolation. Her thoughts began to wander and she realized that through everything that had happened, she hadn't quite taken in the entire picture of the case, and how seriously dangerous it actually was. It hit her all at once - if the Ministry seemed to be threatning to take her, of all people, off the case, then perhaps there was more peril involved than she had taken the time to notice. A student actually died, Hermione reminded herself painfully. A student was murdered. Murdered by, perhaps, the most powerful and fearsome witch of their time. Murdered by a person Hermione had come to hate for bestowing the same fate upon her own parents as she had upon the innocent girl.
She, Ron, and Harry hadn't told anyone - not even McGonagall - about the note from Bellatrix Lestrange they had found in the Forest. Hermione thought this was unwise to keep such a key part of the puzzle from McGonagall, especially when she had specifically ordered them to bring anything of the such to her attention. Hermione begged and scolded and lectured and yelled in her usual fashion, but Harry was adamant in his decision to "keep it quiet". He told her he didn't think this was something other people should know about, and if he told McGonagall, word would get around. Most of the wizarding world, if not all except them and the Aurors, would never connect Bellatrix Lestrange to any of the happenings at Hogwarts. However much she knew that the right thing to do was take the note to McGongall, she had to respect Harry, for she also knew that he had his reasons for doing things - that, and he was in possession of Lestrange's letter, and didn't seem eager to give it up anytime soon.
And another fact that worried Hermione - frightened her, even - was knowing that at the very moment, Bellatrix Lestrange could be holding Harry's missing records book in a circle of her Death Eaters, reading aloud all the information the Aurors had gained and laughing at their own stupidity of letting it fall into the wrong hands. Hermione still did not know what exactly had been in the book, and neither Harry nor Ron had the slightest inclination to tell her, but she knew it was significant. Why else would Lestrange want it? Harry had relayed this piece of information to McGonagall upon their return to the castle that afternoon, and Hermione had witnessed a strange emotion pass over the face of their elder - fear, perhaps? tension? - like she hadn't seen before. There was no conversation, or in-depth discussion like she had hoped (she was just dying to know what secret information the book contained)... McGonagall merely told Harry to send an owl to Auror Headquarters straight away and not to tell anyone else about the book's disappearance.
Halfway to the Great Hall, Hermione thought she heard faint footsteps sounding through the barren halls, which she had deemed to be completely empty by now. They seemed to be coming her way, and as Hermione advanced on with her hand clenching the wand inside her robes, she was bracing herself for whatever she may face around the corner.
"Hermione, is that you?"
Hermione turned the corner sharply with her wand raised to find a familiar face staring at her from halfway down the corridor. She squinted at the person twenty feet down the dark hall and realized, from the candlelight flickering across his face, that it was Harry. With a sigh of relief, she stashed her wand back inside her robes, only to catch a glimpse of him doing do as well.
"What are you doing here?" she asked him.
"Looking for you," Harry said, walking towards her, "and wondering why you aren't at dinner. Last one of the year with the students - wouldn't want to miss that, now, would you? And I just wanted to make sure everything was all right. Can't be too careful anymore."
"Everything's fine," Hermione said as she met Harry in the middle of the corridor, in front of a particularily giant window. Snow was now swirling furiously on the other side of the foggy glass and the wind seemed to suddenly pick up speed, beating against the stone walls and roaring like an angry lion. "I was just coming down anyway. Hopefully you've saved some food for me, I'm absolutely starving."
Harry cracked a smile but it quickly faded as he began to reach back inside his robes. "I was up in my room when I got this," he mumbled, pulling out a parchment-colored letter identical to the one on Hermione's desk. "It's from the Ministry - you might want to take a look. Unless you already...?"
"Yeah, I got one," Hermione said, taking the letter from Harry and skimming it over. It was word-for-word exactly the same as her's, which she has expected. "Practically identical. I wonder what this is all about."
"I dunno," said Harry. He stuffed the letter back inside his robes and turned as he and Hermione began walking along the dim corridor in the direction of the Great Hall. "Ron got one too, just minutes after mine arrived. I'm sure it's about the Farnsworth girl, they probably want to squeeze more information out of us. We can't give them much more, though. The note, the missing records book... those are the only two things the Ministry doesn't know about, and we aren't going to tell them."
"Harry," Hermione began, then hesitated before continuing. "Don't you think McGonagall should know -?"
"I've told you, I'm not telling her about the note. I know what I'm doing."
"Right. Sorry."
The two walked in silence for several minutes, their shoes clanking down the dark corridors along with the constant howl of the winter wind on the other side of the walls. Eventually, joyous voices began drifting along the hallways, voices of students chatting happily about their vacation plans while feasting on their last supper before the journey home. A delectable aroma met Hermione's nose, only making her yearn more for the delicious food not far away. Her stomach rumbled loudly and she willed it to be quiet, fearing that Harry would hear and have a laugh at her.
They turned a corner and found themselves in the Entrance Hall, with the doors to the Great Hall just feet in front of them and a feast on the other side. Hermione was eager to eat but she stopped suddenly in the middle of the hall, a thought occuring to her.
"Harry," she said again, her voice echoing strangely. "You know the end of the letter, where it mentioned the 'remainder of your stay at Hogwarts?'"
Harry swiveled around to face Hermione. He looked contemplative for a moment, as if he were doing some quick thinking, and then nodded.
"Do you - do you think that was anything significant? I mean, do you think the Ministry might... actually remove us from the case, perhaps? From Hogwarts?"
"I didn't think of that," Harry muttered after a moment's silence, a blank look crossing his face. "Damn, that better not be true. What the hell would the Ministry do without us, though? We know bloody more about this than anyone," he continued as his voice began to rise in anger.
"I know, I know," said Hermione. She glanced around quickly to make sure nobody was in proximity to hear Harry's short tirade. "It just seemed like an odd insinuation. But Harry, I don't think we've realized what kind of danger we're in. We're dealing with - well, with death here."
Another tense silence followed her last comment in which Harry concentrated mightily on the marble floor. Then he raised his head and whispered, "I've dealt with death before, Hermione. I can do it again." Without another word, he turned his back and entered the Great Hall. For a short moment, a wave of conversation wafted out into the empty hall where Hermione stood looking after Harry, and just as quickly, the doors shut again. Hermione suddenly didn't feel hungry in the very least anymore and when she finally found the strength to move her legs, she wandered back up to the staff room, where she knew nobody would bother her.
The following Monday morning, Hermione sat alone by the fire in the staff room, groggily swirling around the dregs in her cup of tea. She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, since most of her night was spent mulling over what could possibly happen in the Ministry meeting that she was due to attend in two hours. The staff room was oddly busy for ten in the morning; most professors were usually taking advantage of a student-free school (and to be honest, hardly any students remained for the holidays, especially with a supposed killer on the loose somewhere) but didn't seem to have enough strength to drag themselves out of their comfortable armchairs. Hermione couldn't blame them.
A door creaked open, catching her attention and breaking her reverie, and she looked up to see who had entered the staff room. Long, dark robes and vivid, red hair - Ginny was sitting less than ten feet from Hermione, so it could be none other than Ron. Sure enough, he stepped around the door and into the comfortably occupied room, his arms laden with mysterious, dusty-looking books. Within five seconds he had made eye contact with Hermione, who stared back, still stirring her spoon around her now empty cup. Then he screwed up his face in something resembling a grimace and quickly looked away before dashing up the staircase to his room.
Hermione sighed. She understood that the two of them still weren't on good terms, and honestly, all they had done since their arrival at the school was argue. True, they had formed a strange temporary bond, at the very least, during their journey in the Forest, but had she really expected things to return to normal after that? At least Ron didn't randomly appear in the middle of her lessons anymore, but the glares and frowns of hatred from across the hall or down the table at dinner were enough to make her sick. She was tired of their irrational fighting - she was actually even beginning to forget the reason they weren't talking in the first place. What with everything else going on, the last thing Hermione needed were uncomfortable feelings towards a person she was forced to work with.
The more she thought about it, the more Hermione began to question how she actually did feel towards that stubborn, contemptuous person she once called her friend. After years of no correspondence, it seemed as if a part of her left the same time Harry and Ron did... but she had restored her relationship with Harry, after a few challenges, and now, it was almost as if nothing had gone wrong. So what was the problem with her and Ron? Perhaps if she just confronted him and finally told him -
"Hey."
Harry appeared in Hermione's peripheral vision, startling her into nearly dropping her empty tea cup. She regained her composure and murmured a quick hello as Harry seated himself in the adjacent armchair.
"Look, I'm sorry about the other night, going off on you in the Hall like that," Harry muttered, his eyes focused on the fire in the grate. "I had a lot of things on my mind and no one else to talk to -"
"Don't worry about it," said Hermione. "We all have things on our minds right now."
Harry nodded in agreement and waved his wand, summoning a cup of coffee over from the nearby refreshment table. He sipped his drink slowly, him and Hermione both staring into the orange flames in silence.
"So, happy that the term's finally over? No more classes till the New Year, I mean," Harry said suddenly with forced interest. Unlike Ron, Harry hardly ever appeared in the midst of Hermione's lessons... he claimed he didn't wish to "relive the terror of Hogwarts classrooms".
"What? Oh, yeah," Hermione muttered.
There was another moment's silence between the two, before Harry said with quite phony sympathy, "Bet you're looking forward to grading all that homework, eh? I saw the pile in your office; it's nearly a mile high."
"Mm hmm."
Harry turned in his chair to face Hermione. "Are you okay? You usually go on talking for hours when I mention the word homework."
"I'm fine," Hermione lied.
"What are you thinking about?"
Hermione hesitated; she wasn't sure whether or not she should discuss her thoughts with Harry. As much as he was her best friend, she knew that he could very well run and tell Ron, or Ginny, her confessions. Perhaps he would even think she was being ridiculous and childish, as she thought she was. But Hermione felt like her head was threatening to explode if she didn't pour out some of its contents to someone immediately. It was times like these that she desperately wished she owned a Pensieve.
"Ron," she muttered, feeling herself blush.
"Ah," was all Harry could utter as a wide smile spread across his mouth. "And what about him?"
"It's just -" Hermione sighed and threw her head back against her comfortable armchair. "I don't understand him, Harry. You and I patched things up, right? Ron, on the other hand, refuses to even acknowledge the fact that I exist, but only when he feels like it. That day in the Forest, I almost felt like we might have been friends again. Apparently, he's decided against it."
"So, you're missing your friendship with him? Is that it?" Harry asked, still looking at Hermione with that utterly annoying smirk on his face. For an instant, Hermione had a knack to punch him, but reasoned that maybe it wasn't such a good idea. She nodded.
"It's stupid," she muttered, more to herself than Harry. "He's a grown man; we aren't little schoolchildren anymore. And he's still acting like he's about eleven."
"I can talk to him," Harry announced, standing up and pushing back his chair.
"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "You won't do anything of the sort, Harry! I don't want him to know I've been telling this to you!"
"Why?" Harry asked. With each word, his smile only grew, until it looked like it would snap his face in half. "I can be very persuasive. Talking to him might be a rather good idea, actually."
"Talking to who?"
Hermione and Harry swiveled around to find Ginny standing behind them with an innocent look of curiosity on her face. She looked from one to the other, smiling slightly. Hermione wondered how long she had been standing behind them... and how much she had heard.
"Nobody," the duo said simultaneously.
Hermione glanced down at her watch to avoid eye contact with Ginny and realized that if they spent any more time chatting, she and Harry would be late for their appointment with the Ministry. The last thing they needed was to show up late and look irresponsible, especially if the Ministry was about to fire them.
"Fine," Ginny said defiantly, looking just a bit hurt. "Hermione, I was wondering if you'd come to Hogsmeade with me this afternoon? I have a couple last-minute Christmas gifts to pick up and -"
"Sorry, Ginny," Hermione interrupted, rising from her chair and staring meaningfully at Harry. "Harry and I have to - er - go see Hagrid to help him... prepare his... Flobberworms for the winter. They'll die if they're exposed to the cold, you know."
"And nobody wants that," Harry contributed, in what he thought was a helpful tone.
"Right," Ginny said. From the look on her face, Hermione knew she didn't believe a word she had said. "I'll leave you to that. Give Hagrid my hello," she added bitterly before turning on her heel and marching across the room to the door. It shut with a sharp snap behind her.
"Come on," Hermione said, pulling Harry to his feet. "You go get Ron and I'll inform McGonagall that we're leaving. If we arrive early, we'll give the Ministry a good impression, and perhaps we won't get sacked."
"I doubt it, though," Harry said with a frown.
Hermione silently agreed with him - she was honestly beginning to dread the Ministry meeting by now. More depressing thoughts kept escaping into her mind, twisting and forming into horrible scenarios. She couldn't bear to think again that she may have to leave Hogwarts for good... and then what would become of the school without her? Would more deaths occur, maybe even to people important to her?
For the first time in her life, Hermione had to admit to herself that, miraculously, she didn't know the answer.