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The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of April, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at Checkmated, and is rated R.

Of Hearts and Heroes

Chapter Three

Ginny stood at the front entrance of Hogwarts Castle and watched Harry walk down the hallway with Adrianna and Professor Dumbledore. They were going to show Harry the secret. They had just spent over an hour dancing round the secret identity of this Adrianna woman and now they were going to reveal it…to Harry. Just to Harry.

It was probably pretty personal and vital and bloody earth shattering. Which, of course, meant it was far too important to show to little Ginny Weasley, who needed to be coddled and protected and most importantly, left out. Now, more than ever, it really pissed her off.

Ginny wondered why they had even let her see anything. Maybe she was so unimportant that it wasn't worth the effort to make her leave. She wondered if she would have been sitting in Hagrid's cabin with Harry and his new protector if Ron and Hermione weren't in the hospital wing. Probably not. She was simply back-up, second fiddle, and the one everyone went to when no one better was around.

She sighed as Harry's figure disappeared from view. For someone who had supposedly 'gotten over' her school girl crush, Ginny sure spent a lot of time staring at Harry Potter and thinking about Harry Potter and obsessing about Harry Potter.

Well, Ginny told herself, the first step in not obsessing about Harry Potter was to stop staring at the spot where he disappeared around the corner. Any time now. Just turn around.

The one problem with that was Harry needed her. He was on the brink of insanity as it was, and as much as Ginny trusted Professor Dumbledore to keep him physically safe, it was clear that his emotional stability always came second to the Headmaster. Last summer was an excellent example.

Not that there was anything she could do about it now. She couldn't exactly barge into Dumbledore's office, could she? Ginny turned, mildly depressed now, and headed toward the Great Hall.

The Hall was emptying, dinner almost over. Thankfully, the platters hadn't been cleared yet. Ginny took a seat at an empty area at the Gryffindor table and filled a plate with Shepherd's pie. She hadn't eaten since breakfast.

"Hey, Ginny."

She looked up, still chewing, to see Dean Thomas straddle the bench next to her. He was smiling at her in an adorable kind of way. Ginny did her best to smile back. It was time to pretend nothing important had happened today. If one pretended convincingly enough, then eventually one convinced even oneself.

Ginny was a consummate actress. She had to be to survive six older brothers and one over protective mother. It shouldn't be too hard to pretend everything was fine. It was all about knowing her part.

For example, she had not spent a good portion of the day crying in the girl's loo. She was not grieving an ex-convict. She was not sick with worry over a boy who she did not fancy. And she did not feel any of the following things: left-out, abandoned, awkward, unattractive, or pathetic. It was rather simple, really. She had spent the day relaxing with her brother, nothing special.

"Hey Dean," she said brightly, already in character. "Enjoy the sun today?"

"Yeah, it was great. Would have been a lot better if you had been around, though," Dean said in a shy, charming way. He looked down and back up at her through his eye lashes. "There was a definite shortage of pretty girls."

Ginny laughed out loud and flushed what was undoubtedly that horrifying famous Weasley red. She didn't believe a word of it, but it was awfully nice to hear. Especially after a day like today. She felt herself relax for the first time in days.

"I'm sure you persevered just fine," she teased. Ginny took another bite of pie, not too large. She didn't want Dean to think she wasn't lady-like. She found herself hoping he would stay and chat for a while. It was a lovely distraction.

"Oh, of course, that's my family's crest," Dean responded cheekily. "Perseverance at all costs." He put his hand over his heart dramatically.

Ginny giggled, feeling lighter. "Doesn't your family sell books?"

He looked down again, biting his full lower lip. He really was cute. She'd never noticed before. "Well, some of those books are really long. They require a lot of tenacity," Dean said with mock seriousness.

Warmth was starting to spread through Ginny's body at the intensity of his gaze. She loved how it felt to have a bloke's attention focused entirely on her. Michael had been like that when they had first started dating, before…

Her eyes unconsciously went to the Ravenclaw table where Michael and Cho's heads were bent close together, whispering. The prick. Mere hours after their confrontation and apparently they were completely over it. His little tart had forgiven him easily. Ginny felt that horrible pang of rejection. It felt all too familiar. What the hell was so great about Cho Chang anyway?

"So…" Dean started, clearing his throat. He brought her out of her reverie and Ginny put on what she hoped was a credible smile. However, the contemplative look on Dean's face proved that it was too late. He had caught the direction her thoughts had wandered. Ginny reprimanded her own carelessness. "I haven't seen you with Michael Corner much lately," Dean commented with careful lightness.

"Yeah," she said quietly, pathetically. She mentally shook herself. Ginny knew she was stronger than this. "I reckon his ego couldn't compete with the Gryffindor glory," she joked, her smile her shield.

Dean grinned back, taking the bait. "Have pity on the bloke. It must be hard having a girlfriend who is better than him in Quidditch… and everything else."

Ginny savored the compliment, and this time her smile was genuine. "I'm not so great. I was just filling in at the game. Harry's our real star seeker," she protested.

Dean laughed incredulously. "Come on, you were brilliant."

Ginny leaned her head on her hand, studying him. "Too brilliant I suppose." She was playfully sarcastic as she gestured her head toward Michael. This time, when she looked at him the pain was less. Flirting was a wonderful thing.

"His loss," Dean's said huskily, his voice having dropped an octave. "I'm sure there are plenty of men out there man enough to handle your brilliance."

Unbidden, an image formed in her head. Harry, battered and bruised, standing defiantly, wand raised as he faced down a hoard of Death Eaters. Great, that was exactly what Ginny needed right now.

Concentrating on Dean, she laid on the charm, "And where do I find these extraordinary men?"

His voice dropped to a conspiratory whisper and he leaned in close to her. "Well, the first step is to stop looking outside of Gryffindor."

Her stomach turned over. She was not going to think about bloody Harry Potter. "I'll remember that. Thanks."

"Oy! Dean, you coming?" Seamus yelled from the entrance way.

Dean glared at him from over his shoulder and called back, "Keep your knickers on, mate." He turned back to Ginny, suddenly shy again, gnawing on that full lip. "You coming back to the common room?"

"I…" Ginny started. She looked back at her food, but it had disappeared, along with the rest of the dinner platters. Dinner was over. Her stomach gurgled in protest.

"I, er, promised Ron and Hermione I'd stop off one more time before bed. Need to make sure they don't kill each other, you know." She wasn't sure why she even said that. Certainly spending time with Dean was the healthiest option right now. But Harry needed her, the ruddy prat.

Dean winced dramatically. "Don't we all know it? Well…." He got up and looked at her with somewhat less confidence. "We'll probably be up late with the whole nothing-to-do-tomorrow thing. Maybe I'll see you later, then?"

"I'd like that," Ginny responded genuinely.

He smiled hugely and ran off to join Seamus, who laughed at him and slapped him on the back.

Well then, Ginny thought. Dean Thomas. Fancy that. Seemed like a nice enough bloke. Might be just the thing to help with a speedy recovery from Michael Corner. And prevent a Harry Potter relapse.

Ginny took her time getting up from the table and leaving the Great Hall. She'd have to ask Hermione about Dean. When Ron was not in the room. Of course, that might be a bit difficult. Not only were they currently roommates, but recently Ron was sending her more and more of those 'I'm not letting you out of my sight' looks. He was really mental about her being cursed at the Department of Mysteries. Ginny could still see the look on his face when he had been revived and seen her there…

She shivered at the memory. It was not a look you ever wanted to see on your brother's face. Well, maybe something good would come out of it. Maybe Ron would finally get a clue about how he really felt about his best friend. Ginny rolled her eyes. Knowing her brother, it wasn't bloody likely.

As for now, Ginny had to think of a way to help Harry. She was pitiful, but she was all he had right now. She left the Great Hall and headed toward the library. Just one quick stop before she headed to the hospital wing. Taking a page from Hermione's book, when all else failed, it was time for a little research.

Harry looked around Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster seemed to have repaired all the damage he had created three days ago without a problem. Somehow this made Harry angry.

He closed his eyes in an attempt to get a grasp of his emotions, but with everything that was going on, it just wasn't possible. Frowning, Harry turned to Adrianna and Dumbledore as the Professor carried over his Pensieve.

"Let me get this straight," Harry said with a sigh, feeling tired. "You're going to show me something in there that will prove who Adrianna is."

"Exactly so," Dumbledore said lightly. If he had just a touch more cheerfulness Harry didn't think he'd be able to restrain himself from exploding. Harry crossed his arms tightly as Dumbledore used his wand to pull a thin silver strand from his head and place it into the Pensieve.

"What I don't understand," Harry gripped, "is why we aren't using one of Adrianna's memories. Doesn't that make more sense?"

He was apprehensive about this whole process. Last time he went into a Pensieve it wasn't what he would call a pleasant experience. Harry was glad that Ginny wasn't going to be subjected to it.

Adrianna shook her head. She didn't look any more enthusiastic than Harry felt. "The Pensieve doesn't work on me. It's an Empath thing, interferes with all sorts of mind reading type magic. It's all the extraneous thoughts and emotions coming from other people, causes too much interference."

The Pensieve swirled dizzily. Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Are we ready, then?"

Not really, Harry wanted to say, but when they both looked to him, he took a deep breath and nodded. Dumbledore entered the Pensieve first, followed by Harry and Adrianna. They disappeared into the black swirling depths.

Suddenly, Harry found himself in a parlor. At first glance, it seemed to be a small London Flat. There was a wizard lying limp in the middle of the room. Over him stood an adult, but decidedly human, Voldemort. The dark figure looked up from his victim to see a younger Dumbledore in front of him. Voldemort smiled at his long-time rival and, Crack, he was gone.

Adrianna gasped and turned to the present day Dumbledore, horror plain on her face. "This is the memory you chose?" She demanded angrily. "This isn't the only time we met. You could have chosen a different memory."

Harry's apprehension grew to new heights at her reaction, but his eyes were pulled to the man on the floor. For a horrifying moment Harry thought it was his father. His heart froze in his chest as he walked, trancelike, to get a closer look. It wasn't who he feared it was, though the resemblance was striking. This man was older. Harry's father hadn't lived long enough to reach middle age.

Younger Dumbledore knelt over the fallen man and checked his pulse. The Professor's head drooped as he closed his eyes, shaking his head.

Harry frowned, as if it weren't obvious that the man was dead, with his frozen hazel eyes… Harry's eyes snapped to the strange woman who had entered his life so abruptly today. There was an angry set to her jaw and her fingers clawed at her upper arms. She avoided looking at the fallen man. He stared at her until she finally met his gaze.

Harry's blood turned to ice as he looked into her hazel eyes. "What is this? Who is this man?" he demanded. He was afraid of the answer.

Instead of answering, Adrianna turned her accusing gaze to Dumbledore, but this time it wasn't he that Harry wanted an answer from. His voice rose. "Who is this man?"

Adrianna's eyes snapped back to his. "The dead man's my father, Harry," she bit back, her voice dripping with bile. "The day my father died is the memory the Professor chose, but since we're here you should pay attention. It's about to get even more instructive."

Crack. Crack.

Harry stumbled back as two wizards appeared in the room. This time one of them was clearly his father.

James fell to his knee beside the dead man, shaking him. "Julian! No! Julian!" His voice was full of emotion. "God no!" The resemblance was even more striking than Harry had originally thought. He was beginning to feel the first stirrings of panic. What did it all mean?

"We saw the Dark Mark," the man who had Apparated in with James said quietly.

The other Dumbledore nodded, standing up and stepping back from the body. "It was Voldemort himself. He Disapparated as soon as I arrived."

Harry looked pleadingly at Adrianna, willing her to give him a straight answer. "Who is he?" he whispered harshly. "Who are you?"

Meeting his gaze, Adrianna's mask of anger fell a way. She seemed uncertain. The scene around them continued, but Harry refused to watch. Somehow, he thought he would see something even more important in her eyes.

"Where's Adrianna? She was here." At the sound of his father's voice Harry's eyes whipped over. Oh god, what was going on here? What the hell was this?

"I haven't seen her," young Dumbledore said to James.

Harry's eyes stayed on Adrianna. She was beginning to look less and less like a stranger. "Tell me," he demanded. "How did you know my father?"

Adrianna closed her eyes tightly against Harry's request, eventually she burst out, in a surprisingly loud voice. "He's my uncle."

Harry felt like he'd been punched in the gut, even though he had suspecte- known even. He closed his eyes as he took in the ramifications. The sounds around him dulled. He had family. It made no sense. How could he have magical family?

When Harry could make out voices again he heard his father screaming. "Adrianna! Adrianna!"

There was a muffled sound from the kitchen, then a stifled yell. James ran to the kitchen. Harry followed, automatically, without thinking, but just as he crossed the threshold he stopped and looked back. Adrianna hadn't moved, just stared ahead blankly. James was frantically opening up cabinet doors, calling her name.

Harry was torn, not sure where to place his concentration. A small, choked sob came from the kitchen and Harry's attention was brought fully into the kitchen.

James tried to wrench open the cabinet over the sink, but it wouldn't budge. "Frank! I need Julian's wand," he yelled out, while continuing to put all his strength into pulling at the door. "He must have put a locking charm on it."

From behind Harry, younger Dumbledore threw a spell. The cabinet door disappeared. Curled up in a ball, in a space much too small for her to fit into without the aid of magic was a girl. A girl with hazel eyes and messy black hair. A girl that was clearly the younger version of the woman that Harry had met today.

Tears rolled down her drenched cheeks. She choked out, "Uncle James," and slid down into his out stretched arms.

James held the girl tightly to him, rocking her. "Annie, Annie, it's all right. You're safe now."

"No," she whimpered. "Daddy."

The girl pulled away from him violently, causing James to loose his grip. He let her down reluctantly, but called out behind her, "Anna, don't…" She scrambled away, pushing around Dumbledore and into the parlor.

Harry tried to hurry after her, but found he couldn't get himself to move at any great speed. His legs were lead. He slowly followed James into the parlor. The young girl knelt over her father, her head buried in his chest. Quiet tears soaked the dead man's shirt.

As if in water, Harry turned and looked at his grown… cousin? How was it possible that he had family? Was there no end to the secrets kept from him? "How old were you?" he found himself asking. One of many questions he wanted to ask.

Adrianna slowly smiled, a small grim smile. "I was twelve."

Harry nodded, somewhat surprised, the little girl looked younger than that, but they were slight in their family. He looked from his own father to his dead uncle. At least Adrianna got to know her father. Then Harry looked at the weeping child and felt ashamed at the thought.

Harry turned to see the older Dumbledore watching the scene serenely and felt rage fill him. Why would he choose this memory? All this time, why hadn't he told him about Adrianna? Harry used to trust this man so implicitly, if he couldn't anymore…who was left to trust?

"He's gone," the girl sobbed, looking up at up at Harry's father. James pulled the small girl away from the body and gathered her to him. Harry watched his father cry in the girl's shoulder and swallowed strangled cry of his own.

Harry looked between the two Adriannas and turned angrily to Dumbledore. "Why…? I want to leave, now," he demanded through clenched teeth.

"No, Harry," his cousin said quietly, her irritated frown contradicting her words. "We've seen this much, we need to see the rest." She seemed to almost choke on the words. "He's showing us this for a reason."

Bugger the reason, was all Harry could think. He wanted to punch something, someone maybe.

The door to the flat burst open and a woman, older than James, burst through. "No! No!" she screamed. She threw herself next to the dead man, shaking him violently. "Julian. Wake. Up," She commanded.

"He's gone, Mommy."

The woman barely looked at her daughter, shaking her head. "No!" She closed her eyes. "No! Julian!" She doubled over with a stricken cry.

So, this was Harry's aunt. Was she dead, now, as well? She was a kind looking woman with short, curling brown hair. Was she out there somewhere? Were there other family members Harry didn't know of? He looked over at the older Adrianna, whose expression of blatant irritation covered a sheen of…he wasn't sure. Instinctively, Harry moved closer to her.

On the floor, the dead man's wife took a shuddering breath and sat up. She was deadly calm when she demanded, "Who did this?"

There was silence for a long moment. It was Dumbledore who finally spoke. "Voldemort."

The woman nodded, absently. "Why?" she asked through gritted teeth. There was an ever longer silence.

James stepped forward. "Kathy, we don't know---"

"No," the child Adrianna said, fully gaining her mother's attention for the first time. "I know. He wanted me." Her mother shook her head, denying it.

"Anna, no. This had nothing to do with you," James said gently, but Harry could tell he just wanted to believe it was true.

"No, it is true. I heard them arguing. Voldemort was looking for me," The girl said in a strange monotone that Harry found familiar. He had heard it from himself often this last week. "He knew I was an Empath…he wanted my powers." She looked up at the younger Dumbledore. "He thought he could use me." Kathy gasped and clutched her dead husband's shirt.

"So, he killed him?" Frank said, quietly, almost to himself.

Young Adrianna shrugged. "He…Voldemort, he enjoyed it. It was fun," The girl looked down, away from the horrified looks.

Her mother wrenched herself to her feet and flew to the bedroom, slamming the door shut. James followed, finding the door locked. "Kathy, Kathy…open the door!"

"Give her a minute, James," Dumbledore said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Can we go now?" Harry asked the present-day Dumbledore, testily. He didn't want this intimate knowledge of the death of an uncle he never knew.

"Not just yet," the headmaster answered calmly, further enraging Harry.

"We need to get them to a safe house," Frank was saying to the other Dumbledore.

Young Dumbledore nodded sagely. "And a Secret Keeper…"

As they talked, the child Adrianna knelt stiffly next to her father. "What will you do with the body?" she asked softly.

James' voice quivered as he told her, "We'll bury at home, next to our father and sisters."

"Sisters?" Harry gasped, looking at his cousin.

Adrianna answered quietly, "They all died in infancy. My father used to say that they weren't strong enough to withstand the Empath… gift," she said the last word with harsh bitterness. "Fate did not make them."

"When will they take him away?" the twelve-year-old asked.

"Soon, child," her Dumbledore answered.

The girl nodded in response. "He keeps pictures in his pockets," she said, almost to herself, as she reached into her father's pockets and pulled out pictures. She found her father's wand. "He never even took out his wand."

"Anna, please…" James implored her.

She ignored him, if she even heard him. Carefully, the girl placed the pictures and wand into the front pockets of her jumper. "Mommy will want his rings and his wrist watch." She carefully removed them. The older Adrianna looked down at the pure gold band on her own thumb, as her younger self removed it from her it from her father's cold hands and carefully put it in her pockets.

The bedroom door opened. "Adrianna, gather anything you need from in here. We're leaving." The girl looked at her mother with wide eyes. "We have a flight back to America in less than two hours. The driver will be here shortly." Kathy spoke quickly. She rushed around the room gathering things, avoiding looking at the body. "Everything in the bedroom is packed."

"Kathy, you can't go!" James exclaimed.

She whirled on him. "The hell I can't James. That monster just killed my husband. I'm not going to let him get my baby girl."

"We can protect her."

She laughed cruelly. "You can't protect anyone."

"Katherine," Dumbledore approached her. "We are the only ones who can keep her safe now."

"No, I can keep her safe… I can take her home to America and away from magic forever. We'll fade into obscurity," she yelled. "No magic, no danger!"

Young Dumbledore got visibly apprehensive, "You can't take that girl away from magic, Katherine. She is magic. It's in her and it's powerful."

"She isn't magic." Katherine bit out with disdain. "She's a little girl. She's my little girl and from now on," she stated, placing cold hard emphasis on each word, "she's just a Muggle girl."

"You can't make her into a Muggle," James was screaming now, as well. "She belongs with us. She belongs with her family."

"She has family. Regular people family, in America."

"Katherine, please, you can't keep her from magic," Dumbledore reasoned.

"We won't let you!" James roared.

"You don't have a choice."

"She'll die without magic!"

"Ha! Because your world is so safe!"

"Stop!" the girl's yell cut through the argument. "I'll go, Mom. We'll go now." She nodded resolutely, as if she had known this was going to happen all along. Her eyes were dry.

A horn sounded. "That's our driver," Kathy said calmly as she wiped the tears from her face.

"I'll go with you to the airport, for protection," Frank offered, already moving into the bedroom to retrieve their bags. Kathy looked like she was going to argue, but then nodded. She grabbed the rest of her bags and headed for the door.

"Kathy, please," James implored. "Please, don't do this."

His sister-in-law ignored him. She knelt next to her dead husband and kissed his cold lips. "Goodbye, my love." She stood. "Goodbye, James. Adrianna, it's time to go." The child nodded, but lingered as her mother and Frank disappeared out the door.

"Anna," James whispered.

The little girl threw herself at him and hugged him tightly. Again, she began to weep. "I have this awful feeling I'm not going to see you again," she told her uncle. The words cut Harry deeply. He had to close his eyes for a moment. When was this going to end?

"Then don't go," James implored. "We can convince your mother, once she calms down. You belong at Hogwarts. It's the safest place I know."

The girl shook her head. "This isn't my home." She pulled away "I love you, Uncle. Tell Aunt Lily and Grandmother, and the baby when he comes." The child backed up toward the door. "Bye, Daddy, bye, Professor."

"Adrianna, I will write to your mother. We will have you back," Dumbledore answered her.

She shook her head, her lip trembled. "Promise me you'll take good care of my family, Uncle James and Aunt Lily and the baby. Promise."

"Of course, child. We'll take care of you, as well."

"Bye," she said softly, one last time, and ran from the room.

James stared at the empty doorway. When he turned he had a look of rage on his face, a look Harry often saw in the mirror. He picked up a vase and hurled it across the room

"We leave now," Adrianna stated. Harry barely noticed the swirling and pulling. Then, he was back in Dumbledore's office.

It was really frustrating playing chess with Ron. Hermione contemplated her best friend as she stared intently at the chess board that was hovering just over her out-stretched legs. It wasn't that he almost always won. She enjoyed the challenge, the way playing with him made her think.

It was amazing, his superb strategy and clever planning, but it always served to make one question abundantly plain. If he had such a brilliant mind, why didn't he use it? And more importantly, the question that might explain it all. Why didn't he know it?

Hermione called out what she thought was a particularly well planned chess move, one that she had been contemplating for a full ten minutes. Ron quickly countered it with an ingenious move of his own. She shook her head. It was truly incredible.

If only he'd just apply himself. He could get good marks. He could do so many things. Why was it he would rather just slide through life, copying her homework? What did he spend his time on? Quidditch and exploding snap. Joking around with his dorm mates. Tormenting her and Ginny. Helping save the world. Well, sometimes he applied himself.

Hermione tried to hide the way the thought made her cheeks warm with pride. Then Ron shifted on the bed and any hope of hiding her flush was gone. In fact, she completely lost her train of thought.

Ron was lying on her bed in the opposite direction as herself, with his feet by her hip and his tall, lanky body curled up by her feet. His chin casually rested on his hand. His legs were lightly touching hers, carelessly. No big deal. Just a little casual contact among best mates.

Only it had never happened before. Not with Ron. With Harry, Hermione had shared plenty of careless, comfortable touches. Touches that meant nothing. Nothing more than genuine friendly affection, that was. It never felt like she was being burned, it never made her heart race, or her stomach flip.

Like it just did when Ron shifted his leg. That felt an awful lot like a caress and not at all entirely friendly. Of course, Ron didn't mean it as anything more. It was clearly an accident.

Only Ron never touched her, not on accident, not ever. And if it did happen, he usually avoided her for weeks afterward. Made a girl feel down right repulsive, really. Unless, of course, he was just scared off by those same strange sensations she was feeling. At least that's what the hopeful part of her brain said. The masochistic part said he just didn't like to touch her. Neither part was Hermione's most logical.

Hermione remembered Ron's first Quidditch match. What had possessed her that day and made her kiss him on the cheek, she'd never know. She was lucky he talked to her at all after that. Though it seemed that Ron barely noticed in all the excitement. He probably forgot all about it.

Regardless, he was touching her now. Casually, yes, but deliberately. Ron certainly knew it was happening. What did it mean? Was it some giant shift in there relationship? Had everything changed? Was it a good thing? Was she over reacting?

Clearly she was over reacting, but even so, it definitely represented a change of some sort. That wonderful way he had held her earlier today…that was new. That didn't mean that it meant what she wanted it to mean. It was most likely just that their almost dying had finally jerked Ron out of his little boy fear of girls. Maybe her relationship with him would become more like the one she had with Harry.

The thought made Hermione ill.

"Are you all right?"

Ron's voice drew her eyes upward and she focused on his concerned blue eyes. How could he have no idea the effect he had on her? It took her a minute to process his question, but finally she nodded, feeling like an idiot. Why was it, when she needed it most, her intellect failed her?

Ron frowned at her, clearly disbelieving her hesitant nod. Hermione quickly pretended to be focused on the chess game and called out the safest move she could find. It didn't further her chance of winning, but it met her immediate goal of distracting Ron from his scrutiny.

Once again, he was entirely focused on the game, and as usual he was entirely daft when it came to her. That brought Hermione back to her original point. How could this boy, man, whatever, with his thus far undisclosed beautiful mind, who was soundly trouncing the best student at Hogwarts, not know that his best friend was hopelessly enamored with him?

Hermione would not say love. Not yet. Not when fifty percent of the time she was sure she didn't have a snowball's chance in hell with him. And the other fifty percent of the time…well, maybe a snowball's chance in Calcutta.

She snuck a glance at him. He caught her eye and smiled. It was moments like this… and moments like last night, that kept her from giving up on him and trying to move on with her life.

"Hermione, are you even paying attention?" Ron asked softly, playfully.

"Of course, I am," she said indignantly. Bristling, she called out a hasty move… a fatal move.

"Oh really?" Ron took her queen. "Checkmate."

She dropped her head. It was entirely his fault anyway. His bright blue eyes were too much of a distraction. It was probably all part of his brilliant stratagem. Know your opponent's weak spot and take no prisoners. She looked up to see him pout at her. It was too cruel. He'd already won. She didn't need any more distractions.

"It's no fun if you don't even try," he grumbled.

"I was trying," Hermione protested. She was. Mostly.

Ron rolled his eyes and sat up to clear the board. This brought his hip firmly up against her knee. He was getting entirety too casual about this touching thing. "Do you want to play again?" she managed to ask.

"Are you going to concentrate this time?" Ron teased.

Sure, if he'd stop touching her and looking at her and talking to her… Hermione swallowed. "Do you have any other ideas of how to keep ourselves busy?"

"Good point," he replied with frown. Ron began setting up the chess pieces again.

Hermione bit her lip, considering. "We could always start that list I was talking about. The one about Harry…" Ron's head jerked up and he shot her a glance made her stop. "Why not?" She didn't like the whine in her voice, but it made his features soften.

"Because we're recovering. We need to relax," Ron said with an indulgent smile.

Relax. Ha. Was that what they were doing? Hermione let the subject drop and tried to concentrate more on the game this time. Ron really needed to stop moving his leg. She was beginning to think he really was doing in on purpose.

"Kinda strange that Harry hasn't come by again," Ron said softly.

Hermione's head jerked up. Ron was making a good show of staring at the chess board, but there was hurt in his voice, and the lines around his eyes showed that he was worried. She shouldn't have brought up Harry. "I'm sure he just lost track of time," she said as casually as she could manage.

Ron nodded thoughtfully, calling out a move to his bishop and watching it march obediently. "You don't think he's out there having fun without us?" he asked with forced humor.

Hermione almost laughed. "Harry?" she asked incredulously. She moved a pawn.

Ron chuckled, though without much mirth. "Good point." He moved his knight and asked, "Do you think Ginny checked up on Harry like you asked?"

Hermione frowned, watching Ron carefully. He was never as unaffected as he seemed. She shook her head. "I'm not sure."

"I did…" Ginny called from the entrance. "But not because she asked me to." She lumbered over carrying five large, dusty texts. Ron quickly moved the chess board out of the way and Hermione bent her legs to make space.

"What's all this?" Ron asked.

Ginny dropped the heavy texts, frowning down at them. "Everything I could find, which isn't much."

Hermione read the titles as they were dropped on the bed in front of her.

Rare Gifts. Magical Extinctions: Who's Next? A History of the Empath. The Myth and the Reality of the Empath. Empathy: A Power Beyond Reach

Ron looked completely appalled. Hermione looked up in confusion, Ginny sighed as she sat down on Ron's bed.

"So, Harry and I were out for a walk…"

Thank you to RedMoonChick, kjcp, JenB, and Texasmagic.