Disclaimer: Third verse, same as the first…
He stared at the parchment. It was pale, crisp and blank, just waiting to soak up ink as words were transcribed from his head onto its surface. His mind, however, was blank, devoid of concise thoughts, just a jumble of random ideas and emotion. He ran his hand through his hair, dragging at the dark messy locks. He fidgeted in the chair, scooting it back, sliding it forward, as if it's positioning was preventing him from focusing on his task. He took off his glasses, wiped the lenses with the corner of his shirt, and then replaced them. He picked up his quill, twirling it idly before scratching an itch on his neck. Then he glanced at the parchment again, which had not magically filled with words and still sat blank, waiting. He felt his brows draw together as he frowned, unsure of what to write.
"Harry, just write to him."
He met the amused smile of his friend, who hadn't even looked up from her own task, continuing to leaf through pages in a thick book, scanning for information of some sort. The she scratched out a few words on her own paper before returning to the text she was entrenched in.
"I am," he snapped.
The petulant tone in his voice was such that she shifted her attention from the book to meet his green eyes. She hazarded a peek at his parchment. "So I see." Her own tone was a mix of wry amusement and mother-like understanding. "Why don't you start with the date?"
She suppressed a grin as she turned back to her notes, listening to him grumble, "this is a letter and not a homework assignment," followed by the sound of him dipping his quill in ink and the scratching of his quill. "Next you'll suggest some flashy title across the top so that he'll fancy he's back here teaching defense against the dark arts classes," he added in a snarky tone.
"No, but perhaps an introduction would not be amiss, Dear Professor Lupin."
He snorted at the suggestion. "You don't use 'dear' when you write to another man Hermione, besides, it sounds all formal and stuffy."
"Really?" she asked in a surprised tone, playing to his attitude "Is it written down somewhere? Maybe in an etiquette book, though I would have thought that I'd have read something about it if that was the case."
"It's a guy thing okay? Unwritten code or something."
"Oh… Right then. Well, use just 'Professor Lupin' then. Follow up with some sort of greeting."
He didn't bother to answer her this time, choosing instead to apply quill to paper. She returned to her book, trying to decide whether it contained any promising tidbits of information or not.
October 15, 1996
Professor Lupin,
I hope that things are going well for you.
Harry looked at the first sentence, shook his head and crossed it out. It struck him as too wishy-washy and not at all in keeping with the intent behind writing this letter. He started again, figuring it was best to tackle the subject head on.
I realize that I'm probably the last person you expected to hear from, but you did say to keep in touch
when I left for the Dursley's, and I wasn't really ready to do much talking this summer.
He reread the sentence, thinking that it seemed adequate without coming across as girly. He scrawled out the next thought that popped into his head.
The thing is, I'm still upset over losing Sirius, and there isn't anyone I can talk to besides Ron, Ginny
and Hermione, but they don't really understand because they haven't lost someone that close to them.
(I hope they never do) It is weird for me to say that Sirius was close to me when I haven't known him for
more than a few years, but it seems like there was a connection, and now he's gone. Hermione pointed
out that you were affected by the loss too, and practically shoved a quill and ink into my hands at the
first possible moment and told me to write to you.
He paused for a moment, the corner of his mouth turning up at the exaggeration; a little bit of humor to balance the emotional words. It wasn't far from the truth however. As soon as he was awake this morning, she dragged him to the Hall for an early breakfast, and then on to library. She then instructed him to write the letter while she was searching for books.
She was right, and I shouldn't have needed her to tell me that. If anyone would understand, it would be you.
I feel selfish for not seeing beyond my own sadness, to talk to you before, and part of me is afraid that you
will not want to reply because I am the reason he went to the ministry that night. You have no idea how much
I regret it. I'd say I'm sorry, but it won't bring him back, no matter how much I mean the words. I know that
the words don't really help, but I wish they did.
Harry sniffed, then blinked several times, recognizing the prickle behind his eyes that signaled the onset of tears. A small, warm hand covered his and gave a comforting squeeze. Sometimes he wondered how she knew when he needed a reassuring touch. He looked over his written words and could not think of anything further to add. He ended the missive with a 'Respectfully, Harry', and decided he was done.
Standing, he folded the parchment. "I'm going to send this with Hedwig. Are you planning on being much longer? I could wait for you if you want," he offered.
She waved him off absently, "I'm going to be a while yet, why don't you find Ron and do manly things, play with your brooms or challenge each other to endless games of chess that you hardly ever win."
With a huff, she slammed the book shut and re-shelved it. Hermione checked her watch and frowned. Two books, four hours of reading, and all she'd managed to come up with was a spell to turn doorways into temporary gateways between one location and another. It was a practice that fell out of use once apparition became popular. Besides which, she'd noticed that wizards tended to prefer a permanent connection to the floo network.
The second book she grabbed because the title, 'Mirror Worlds', had looked promising. It turned out to be a disappointing collection of badly written fictional stories revolving around a witch who slipped into alternate realities when she slept. 'Well,' she'd thought philosophically, 'lends credence to the adage that you can't judge a book by its cover.'
She checked out a smaller tome containing a history of Stone Henge. She was hoping that it would hold something that might lead her in a new direction, spark some ideas. And she felt she would need some desperately given her familiarity with the books found in the general shelving of the library. The pickings were scarce, and she had a sinking suspicion that this quest for knowledge of the Veil was going to take longer than the search for Nicholas Flammel in first year. She needed to start thinking of a way to get a pass for the Restricted Section at this rate, either that or borrow Harry's invisibility cloak.
"No matter," she mumbled to herself as she started her trek back to the common room, "mysteries are supposed to be more challenging as one gets older, and it will make the answer seem that much more rewarding when I do finally come across it." And then grimaced at herself because she was giving herself a pep talk so early in the 'game', which was what she started to think of the mystique surrounding the veil as. It was a game, and it wouldn't be any fun if the answer was simple to find.
But she did long for something useful like a card catalogue or even a computer with internet access. Wishing for such things were useless, however, as she had neither, and was not likely to any time in the foreseeable future. If she had a better idea of what she was looking for, she might have been able to ask Madame Pince for some direction in her search, but for now, she'd have to settle for muddling through the hard way, alone.
She entered the Gryffindor common room to find it mostly empty. Four girls, three in their fourth year and one in her second, were huddled in a circle by the fireplace. She guessed that they were gossiping based on the incessant giggling that reached her ears. She tried recalling their names, coming up with Rebecca and her little sister Tricia, and identifying the other two as Pearl and Katherine. Having put names to faces, she dismissed their presence and continued to scan the room. Hermione's eyes lit on Harry and Ron, bent over a table that held a chessboard, teapot, and a few cups on saucers.
"Hermione?" Her progress was halted by Pearl.
"Yes?" Curious as to what the fourth year could want, she joined the group, standing outside of the circle.
"We were wondering…" the girl trailed off into a fit of giggles.
Rebecca picked up the conversation for Pearl, "We wanted to know how long you and Harry have been together?"
"I've known Harry since first year. We've been good friends since Halloween of that year."
"That's so romantic," Tricia sighed. "Being together for so long, is he a good kisser?"
Hermione felt her jaw drop. Surely the didn't think… "Why in the world would I know something like that?" She fixed the youngest girl with an incredulous look.
"If you've been dating since your first year, you have to have kissed him by now." She looked expectantly at the bushy haired girl. The others nodded in agreement.
"Who ever said…? I'm not dating Harry!" she exclaimed in shock. "Wherever did you lot get such a hair-brained idea?" She felt her face flush in embarrassment.
"Well, you spend loads of time with him," Katherine pointed out logically.
"I spend lots of time with Ron too, nobody thinks I'm dating him."
"But you aren't alone with him as often as you are with Harry. Plus, you've been down here with him on the couch almost every morning since term started."
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, searching within herself for patience. "I am not dating Harry. We are friends, strictly in the platonic sense. Instead of wasting time speculating on other people's romantic lives, you should be devoting that excess mental energy on your studies. The three of you," she fixed her eyes on Pearl, Katherine and Rebecca in turn, "have OWLs next year. It's never too early to start studying for them. Now if you will excuse me." She turned on her heel and walked, back stiff, toward her friends.
Her ears caught a muttered, "bossy bookworm," from Rebecca.
'Fine, let them think that,' she counseled herself, 'it's better than having them imagine there is something going on between Harry and I.'
"Nah, it's a case of 'she doth protest too much'," Pearl replied. To which the group erupted into a round of laughter. Hermione winced, her hope that she'd heard the last of such a ridiculous speculation crushed. She joined her friends with a sigh, shooting a grateful smile at Ron when he offered her a cup of tea.
"What was that about?" Harry inquired, nodding toward the group she had escaped.
"Wooly-headed girls who have some mad notion that you and I are dating."
Ron snorted, fixing Hermione with an amused look. "Is there something you wish to tell me dear girl?" he asked in a tone that closely mirrored Dumbledore's in manner.
"Only that my dating Harry is about as likely as you and Ginny getting together!" she remarked ruefully, studying the board. "Harry, you have to move your king before Ron checks you with his knight." She sipped at her tea absently.
"Too late Herm, it's my turn." Ron moved his piece, "Checkmate. Game's mine."
"As if I expected anything less," Harry replied, finishing the last liquid in his own cup.
"Swirl around the dregs mate. Three times clockwise."
"What for?"
"Homework for divination. Trelawny has foreseen a refresher course in tasseomancy." He flipped the cup upside down in the saucer to drain. "You too, oh Doubter-of-the-Beyond."
Hermione glared good-naturedly, draining her cup of all but the leis and mimicked Harry's actions. "I'm surprised that you didn't drop that class like Harry and I, or at least take Firenze's version of divination instead."
Ron picked up Harry's cup, studying it for a few moments, twisting the china this way and that. He commented idly, "I needed a class that didn't require to much effort to pass. It's a nice follow up to potions with the greasy git on Monday's and Thursday's. The air may be smoky, but it doesn't smell as foul as some of the potions ingredients we have to use." He hmphed under his breath. "Let me borrow a bit of parchment and a pencil would you?"
She dug the requested items out of her bag, handing them over to the redhead. He sketched out a circle to denote the rim of the cup, and a smaller circle inside to show the bottom. Next he drew in various blobs and shapes, shading them lightly to indicate the globs of tealeaves.
"Right, this looks like the letter 'R', and this bit here looks like a bird, maybe a dove. That means," his brow furrowed as he tried to remember, "coming peace. And this hand shape here means you have a friend's assistance. And they are placed near the rim of the cup, so sometime in the near future, you will achieve peace with the assistance of a friend, whose name starts with and 'R'."
Hermione laughed and clapped her hands with glee. When both boys looked at her as though she was mental, she explained. "Well it's all so clear isn't it? Ron's obviously going to help you shove Malfoy off the astronomy tower next week so that he won't be around to harass us. Just think of how peaceful that would make life!" She chortled her amusement at the thought. Harry and Ron both joined in, which gave her a moment of contentment at the fact that Harry looked rather relaxed for the first time in quite a while.
Ron must have noticed this as well, for he tried to keep the humorous atmosphere by gesturing grandly with his long arms, tapping himself on the forehead dramatically. "Oh my dear," he mocked, his voice taking on a high-pitched accent that was eerily like his divination professor's. "Hand me your teacup." He snatched it from her hands, rolling it around while holding it up to the light. He tutted several times under his breath, "Oh my dear, just as I feared… I predict, oh, perhaps it's better if you do not know, the inner eye is a bit clouded today…"
He looked thoughtfully at the leaves again, then took up his pencil and sketched out another drawing, this time of what he found in her cup. Ron looked up at her, and then started pointing out things on the paper. "Actually Hermione, your leaves are sort of interesting. This looks like a closed book, and the leaves create a circle around it, which means that you have a question that requires investigation, but you will be successful. Because it's positioned toward the bottom of the cup, it's going to take some time. And here, at the top, that's an ant."
"You sure it isn't a spider?" she said sarcastically.
"No, it's an ant, only has six legs, not eight…"
"Yeah, and he's not squealing in fright," Harry interrupted.
"Shut it mate! You were a bit skittish yourself after seeing Aragog. Anyway, the ant stands for impending difficulties, which is going to happen soon. And here's a 'U', or maybe it's meant to be an 'A' since there's a dusting of pulverized leaves inside it."
"Rubbish and nonsense, the whole thing." She stood, "Perhaps I should go to my room and look for an answer on how to permanently do away with Umbridge without getting myself thrown in Azkaban." And with that, she walked off, climbing the stairs to the girls' dorms.
Ron looked over to his friend, whose expression was delighted at the notion of Dolorous Umbridge's demise. "Suppose now wouldn't be a good time to tell her about my new strategy for passing divination would it?"
"Probably not. You can tell me though. I might be able to soften her up a bit if it's really bad." Harry looked amused.
"I've decided to make predictions of Hermione's misfortunes this year. It'll be an easy pass, since Trelawny really doesn't like her for walking out of class in third year. It's sort of funny to watch her go on about Herm, 'no talent for the noble arts' and such."
"Why didn't you think of this last year when I could have benefited from the idea?" Harry accused.
"Actually, it was Ginny's idea, she mentioned it over the summer. I just figured that if Hermione were to bemoan her cursed fate during lunch or something, Lavender or Pavarti would tell Trelawny, and it would be proof that I had 'the sight'."
"That's a remarkably well thought out plan of yours. Still think you came up with it a year too late." He laughed again. "Definitely have to fill Hermione in on this one. She might enjoy pulling one over on Professor Trelawny."
"Well, that's me mate. All about strategy, I am. Another game?" He asked with a grin.
AN: Thanks to Rane2920072 and eowyngirl513, I'm glad that you are both enjoying the story. As always, a special thank you to BrennaM for her inspiring story, I myself cannot wait for the next chapter. And for those interested, I'm taking members for the "Get BrennaM for her evil cliffies" fan club.