Chapter 6: Accepting Consequences
Hermione was staring at the spines of "Developed Concealment and Camouflage," and "Death: Variations on a Theme," for the second time that night. This time, however, instead of sitting unhelpfully on Snape's desk, the books were on a shelf in the Hogwarts library.
And she could touch them.
This shelf was to be found, inevitably, in the restricted section, although this was not what was causing Hermione's hesitation. She'd received yearlong access to all areas of the library from Professor McGonagall due to a long-term, extra credit project in transfiguration.
Because Hermione would, as the professor had phrased it, with the slightest hint of warning in her tone, "Never abuse the privilege."
Think McGonagall's still gonna think that way after Snape tells her what he caught her favourite Gryffindor prefect doing?
Hermione's stomach tied itself into a rather complicated knot. I'm not thinking about that until my wand's working again.
There's that famous Gryffindor courage shining through.
I prefer to think it of it as the Gryffindor ability to prioritize.
That, my dear, would be the Ravenclaw in you. Or would it be the Slytherin?
I don't know what you're talking about.
Right. Of course. What was that you were saying about prioritizing?
Herimone yanked the books off the shelf with more force than was strictly necessary. Thirty seconds later she was seated at the table that she knew offered the clearest view of the library's only entrance with both books spread out in front of her.
Spread in a fashion that looked as though they'd been left there by an unruly student who'd forgotten to clean up after himself. Hermione checked the door before she turned the pages.
"Developed Concealment and Camouflage," to her immense anxiety, did not contain any spells. Instead, it held an excess of information on the theory behind plene latito and patesco and other advanced concealment charms. Most of which she already knew about and none of which even remotely resembled the spell that Snape had used on her wand.
She exhaled slowly and, with another glance at the doorway, pushed it aside and opened "Death: Variations on a Theme."
A quick glance at the index told her that this one, contrastingly, had spells.
Oh, did it have spells.
However, as she scanned the list, trying to discover whether or not the one that Snape had made use of could be found in the subsequent pages, the feeling of relief that had swept over her at their presence faded fast.
Most - well, really, all - of them were rather… extra-curricular.
So extra-curricular, in fact, that Hermione found herself skipping over pages that she normally would have lingered over out of simple curiosity.
Reading selectively, she managed to narrow the search down to three spells.
Fumidus, the first spell, however, wouldn't work on any magical object, let alone a wand.
She was seriously considering the second, eximo materia, when she checked the footnotes and realised that, for some reason, its caster was required to be menstruating female.
The third, however… A charm called funesto.
Hermione withdrew a sheet of paper and a quill from the folds her robes and began to scribble notes.
…permanent until the countercharm is cast…
…different wizards may cast the charm and the countercharm on the same object…
…derived from the seminex charm (page 266). Their effects are similar, but, while seminex is to be used on the animate, funesto is restricted to inanimate objects. Henceforth, funesto has none of the precautions against loss of life that seminex
Hermione dropped her quill, her eyes widening, as a memory of a lecture that Flitwick had given their class wafted through her mind in acute tones.
Seminex was a incredibly complex charm that had been formulated by a delusional witch whose husband had died and returned as a ghost to be with his wife for her remaining years. While it was generally thought that the man's return had been motivated not by bitterness, but by the fear of loosing a love that was literally eternal, his incessant presence, ironically, had destroyed his wife's sanity.
Seminex, essentially, caused the living to become ghosts - without dieing.
The witch, unfortunately, had not thought to fabricate a countercharm before she cast it on herself.
Incredibly, several decades later, an industrious wizard psychiatrist had found the witch and her husband, who were still subsisting and, even more incredibly, he somehow managed to restore the witch's mental health. Her revival was such that she was able to explain what she'd managed to do to herself.
The psychiatrist had proceeded to develop a countercharm. Upon realising, however, that, even with a countercharm, seminex would probably turn out to be rather unpopular, modified it to be used on the inanimate, as well as on the living. Hence funesto.
Which Snape had used to, technically, turn her wand into a ghost.
Hermione suppressed a flutter of panic and snatched up her quill to scribble down the instructions on how to cast the countercharm to funesto, which the conscientious psychiatrist had also developed.
She'd just reached the footnotes when she heard the footsteps.
And a little over five years worth of illicit midnight outings told her that they weren't Filch's.
Waves of gooseflesh broke out over her arms and legs as she shot to her feet, grabbed both the books, and dashed at the restricted section.
She'd just whispered a charm to distribute the dust evenly over the whole shelf when he swept through the doorway.
Hermione froze, her heart hammering fast enough to put a jackhammer to shame.
How did he find me?!
Hermione, for the love of god. He probably came here before he went to your dormitory.
Hermione began to edge slowly - Disillusionment Charms didn't hold up to fast movement - away from the shelf and down the aisle. Her breathing seemed abnormally loud. Recklessly, she raised her wand to her throat and breathed, "Silencio."
What the hell did you just do?
Harry and Ron can counter it when I get back.
I suppose… you don't think he'll be able to smell you… do you?
Don't be an idiot.
She'd just reached the end of the shelf when Snape, apparently satisfied that the library was empty, strode straight at her.
He was less than two inches from her when he turned into the aisle she'd just exited.
Her breath caught in her throat and she stood frozen, hair actually fluttering slightly in the gust of air provoked by his customary swirl of robes. Her eyes followed him down the aisle where he stopped in front of the shelf containing both of the books she'd taken.
What are you doing! Move!
She exhaled sharply and, with one last glance at Snape, despite her lack of footnotes, dashed silently back to the table, grabbed up paper and quill and launched herself out the library door.
Harry and Ron, predictably, had waited up for her.
After pointing fruitlessly at her throat for a minute and watching helplessly as their baffled concern escalated into full-fledged panic, she stalked over to a notepad, scribbled Silencio onto it's top page, and hurled it at Harry, who immediately turned a vibrant shade of crimson and performed the countercharm in a mutter.
And then she told them what Snape had done to her wand - inciting more shock and, this time, profanity.
Ron, sporting a pair of Disillusioned legs, began striding around her dormitory in outrage. "That's low."
Harry looked murderous. "What if he'd made a mistake?! He could have destroyed your wand. That's what they do when they expel you! Even if he had caught you stealing, the most you'd get is a month-long detention or something!"
Even though they were on her side, they did tend to take things to extremes.
"Snape wouldn't have cast a spell he wasn't sure of; he's too proud. He just wanted to make sure it was something I wouldn't be able to reverse on my own." She smothered the smug smile that tried to manifest itself. "Now shut up and let me concentrate. I don't know how to funesto anything to practise on, so I've got to get the countercharm right the first time."
It seems so simple… I don't understand why Flitwick wouldn't let us study them.
Maybe funesto's more difficult than it's countercharm. Or maybe you have understand seminex to understand funesto. Seminex is fairly complex.
I suppose… I still don't like it.
Well it's this or you're stuck with that stick of airborne smoke. You could always ask Snape to do it for you tomorr-
"Could I borrow your wand, Ron?"
Ron looked nervous. "Hermione…"
"What, Ron?"
"Well… what if something goes wrong? You're not used to my wand."
Harry, unexpectedly, dissolved into a fit of laughter.
Innocent that she was, Hermione didn't understand until she noticed that Ron's ears had gone scarlet and that he was avoiding her gaze for what felt like the millionth time that night.
That's it.
She clenched her teeth, snatched Ron's wand from the bed, aimed it at Harry's groin, and snarled, "Frigus."
Harry's laughter was cut off by an agonised yelp and he tumbled onto the bed, hands tucked between his legs.
Hermione turned to Ron with a dangerous sort of smile. "There. Works like a charm."
He gargled at her incomprehensibly.
She turned her back on him, pointed his wand in the direction of her suspended piece of smoke, and exhaled, concentrating. "Alright… denicalis!"
To her utter delight, her wand solidified before her eyes, and dropped to the ground with a soft, simple whoosh.
Hermione dashed at it, grinning helplessly. Picking it up, she pointed it at Harry and murmured. "Foveo."
He moaned in relief. She squealed happily and hugged her wand to her chest.
Ron chuckled and, after grinning at Hermione, looked over at Harry. "You alright?"
Harry sat up to glower at Hermione. "Never do that again."
She arched a brow delicately in his direction. "What was so funny, Harry?"
He coughed and got to his feet, his jaw cracking in what she thought might have been a genuine yawn. "Well, I'm going to bed. Frankly, if Snape decides it's worth waking McGonagall to come and oust you from your bed, I think we'd better be innocently asleep in our dormitory. We'll figure out what to do about the potion and my cloak tomorrow."
Hermione caught his gaze, her face falling. "Harry, I'm really sorry…"
Harry smiled at her reassuringly. "It's alright. It's not like you meant to give it to him. We'll consider it a challenge."
She relaxed and grinned back sheepishly. "Still… well goodnight."
Harry nodded and, with the tiniest spark of amusement in his eyes, walked out - completely neglecting to take Ron with him.
Her insides shrivelled as the door swung shut behind him, instigating a thick silence.
Why didn't Ron leave?!
Do you really want me to answer that?
This isn't weird.
Of course not.
Ron and I have been alone together loads of times.
You keep telling yourself that.
Ron, again, wasn't looking at her. At least, Hermione was pretty sure he wasn't. She wasn't looking at him either, so it was hard to tell.
Her mouth seemed to have been filled with sandpaper.
Ten seconds.
Fifteen seconds.
Oh, this is ridiculous.
Hermione swallowed and opened her mouth, which proceeded to emit a sound resembling the last croak of a dieing frog, at the same time that Ron stood up and said, "Aerrhg bed."
She coughed, feeling copious amounts of blood flood her cheeks. "Sorry?" Her voice was about half an octave higher than usual.
Ron swallowed and aimed something that could have been a smile in her direction. "I… uh… suppose I should be getting to bed too… Snape… and all that…"
Hermione laughed. Shrilly. "Right! Me too…" Her voice sounded desperately jovial and her smile seemed to have frozen in place. She felt like she was bearing her teeth at him.
Ron turned scarlet again and stared resolutely at the carpet. "Sorry about the… seeing…"
Hermione cut in, a slightly frantic edge to her voice, "Oh, no, don't worry, I didn't mind…"
Ron was giving her a panicked and totally uncertain look.
Her stomach plummeted out of existence, the pitch of her voice increasing. "Well, no, obviously I didn't want you to-"
What am I saying…
Ron nodded vehemently. "No. Of course not." He chanced a glance at her facial expression, and an expression of terror proceeded to flit across his face. His voice edged slightly higher as well and he hastened to add. "Not that… well, obviously we didn't mean to, but that doesn't…" His voice cracked slightly and he trailed off looking utterly distressed, swallowed, and said vehemently, "Sorry."
Hermione turned away to fiddle with something on her dresser, shutting her eyes in mortification and managed, "It's okay…"
"Well… see you in the morning…"
More silence.
Turn around and say something you prat, he's leaving.
She took a deep breath, whirled round to look at Ron - and found him about two inches from her. They both froze, eyes the size of saucers.
"Oh… night." A rodent had taken control of her vocal chords.
He fixed her with a cautious sort of look, but didn't move.
What's he…
What do you think he's planning to do?
He is not.
Ron swallowed and, for an instant, seemed to be hovering slightly closer to her face. The breath caught in her throat and, after a second's frenzied deliberation, she leant towards him.
The exact moment that he started to lean back.
Oh no.
They both froze, looked at each other for one long moment, and then, unfortunately, moved simultaneously.
Their lips collided.
Ow! That hur… oh…
Ron, surprisingly, seemed to know what to do. Once contact had been established, one of his hands was suddenly in loose contact with the back of her neck and the other was resting on her hip. He brushed his lips softly over hers and then stepped back - taking the hands with him - opened his eyes, and said determinedly, "Goodnight, Hermione."
He smiled almost shyly before turning and walking, a little to quickly towards the door.
Latin:
fumidus: smoky, smoke-filled
eximo materia: remove substance/matter
funesto: to defile or pollute with death
seminex: half-dead
frigus: cold
denicalis: releasing from death
foveo: to warm
From the author: Again, thank you to my reviewers. My computer is situated in a very cold part of my house, and your words have something of the effect of a radiator.
I'd also like to apologise for any typos that may have evaded my not-so-fined-toothed combing.
