disclaimer: JKR owns these characters. I'm just borrowing them until book 6 comes out.

other disclaimer: don't worry, this isn't really a Ron-centric story. once the exposition's done, it'll be all hermione, all the time.

new disclaimer: obviously, this was written (long) before the Half-Blood Prince was published, so it's rather wildly off-canon after the events of book 5. on the plus side, my story still has Dumbledore... on the minus side, Jo made lots of cool things happen to the characters that I can't fit into the story now I've started it in this direction.

Chapter 1: A Summons

(It's All Over Now, Baby Blue)

Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you.
Forget the dead you've left, they will not follow you.
The vagabond who's rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore.
Strike another match, go start anew.
- Bob Dylan

"Hermione!" Ron yelled up at the ceiling. "Stop pacing! It's not going to make them come any faster, and it's driving us mad!"

A muffled retort drifted down into the living room of the Burrow, and although Harry and Ron couldn't make out the words, they grinned at each other in amused resignation. Neither of them had expected Hermione Granger to wait calmly for her N.E.W.T. results.

Ginny came clattering down the stairs and sprawled herself on the window seat, looking tired.

"She's really not that bad," Ginny remarked. "Or at least, not nearly as bad as when your O.W.L.s came. Remember that?"

"Remember?" Ron looked affronted. "WE were the ones in the room with her at the time. Shreds of envelope parchment flying everywhere, screams and squeals of excitement that only dogs could hear, and then she practically ATTACKED us to see our results. And of course we didn't get near as many as she did... I still can't believe she passed every subject with an O." Despite the long-suffering tone in his voice, Ron looked rather proud.

"Not every subject," Harry reminded him.

"Oh, well so she only got an E in potions," scoffed Ron. "Still passed, didn't she?"

"Yes, and you didn't fare too badly that day..." Ginny's eyes twinkled.

"Are you raving?" Ron stared blankly at Ginny. "You call failing three subjects and nearly bleeding out the ears from Mum's shouting at me 'not faring too badly'?"

"I don't mean on your tests..."

Ron's ears turned a sudden pink, and he looked away from Harry and Ginny. He had forgotten that it had been that day, nearly two years ago now. That day when, after the excitement of O.W.L. results had died down, he and Hermione had ended up alone in the room. When she had, all of a sudden, seemed almost to wilt, had fallen into his arms and, to his horror, begun to cry. He had at first been too shocked to speak, a lucky thing, since the first thing that came to his mind to say was "don't be stupid... what've you got to cry about?" Instead, Ron stood stiffly in the middle of the room, feeling Hermione's ragged breathing on his chest. Almost before he realized it was happening, he had wrapped his arms around her back and whispered to the top of her head that it would be okay. What precisely would be okay, he still had no idea, but for the first time in months he and Hermione were alone together and not fighting, and this time, Ron wasn't going to be the one to say something stupid and ruin this calm. And finally she had stopped shaking, and lifted her wet face to thank him. Ron had realized, looking at her, that she didn't know why she was crying any more than he did. He had brought one hand up to her face to move a wet tendril of hair off of her cheek. His hand had seemed too large then, even more awkward than usual, and he was struck all at once by how small Hermione was: her curls barely brushed the bottom of his chin; if he put both hands on her face he could probably cover it entirely. And then suddenly both of his hands were on her face, thumbs brushing away lingering tears and fingers cupping her jawbone and tilting her chin upwards. And he had kissed her, hesitantly, and softly, and with far more paralyzing terror than he ever admitted later. And she had kissed him back, small hands finding their way along his shoulders to interlace at the back of his neck, lips moving ever more fiercely until the rest of the room faded completely from Ron's mind.

"Ron?"

Harry was looking at him, his half-amused, half-embarassed expression proof that he could guess where Ron's mind had been. The sound of pacing footsteps upstairs had been replaced by a soft tapping and a loud BANG, and then two more tappings from the window behind Ginny. Their N.E.W.T. results had arrived. Ron and Harry looked at each other, nodded, and went to open the window. Harry quickly scanned the parchment addressed to him, looking up to grin once he had read it through.

"Good enough to do Auror training!" Harry beamed. "I thought for sure I'd failed transfiguration when my meercat still had a tartan pattern, but I guess I did well enough on the written to make up for that. How'd you make out?"

"About as expected," Ron replied, passing his parchment to Harry. "It's enough to work in the ministry if I still want, though (knock wood) I'd still rather play Quidditch."

"When are the tryouts?" asked Ginny from the window. "And oh, congratulations you both." She grinned at Harry and stretched out her leg to give Ron a gentle kick. "Aren't you going to go see how your woman did?"

Ron grabbed at his sister's foot in what might have been an attempt to dangle her upside-down by the ankle, but Ginny had already lept up and darted back a few steps, dancing from foot to foot like a boxer.

"Harry, catch her for me while I go find out how the human answer key did on her tests," Ron shouted over his shoulder, and he set off up the stairs two at a time. At the top he paused for a moment, trying to listen for a clue as to Hermione's results. If she were crying... well, lately he hadn't been as good at comforting her as he once was. But he really didn't think it was his fault that his thoughts tended to drift toward Quidditch strategy while Hermione cried into his shoulder. It wasn't that the war hadn't hit him hard—he was just as cut up as Hermione about all the death they had seen, all of their friends whose lives had been cut short. But he was trying to plan for the future, and that was hard to do when he knew that his most likely task in any immediate future would be to change out of tearstained robes and into dry ones.

But he didn't hear crying now. He didn't hear squealing either, though. In fact, the second floor of the Burrow was almost eerily silent. Ron knocked softly on the door to Hermione's room, and when he got no answer he opened it slowly.

Hermione was sitting on a desk in front of the window, a parchment in her hand and an irritated barn owl fluttering near her head, trying to wrest her attention from her reading. Ron crossed the room and opened the window for the owl, wincing as it banged shut after he let it go. At the sound, Hermione looked up from her letter. Her face was neither distraught nor elated; instead, she looked strangely blank.

"Hermione? Did you... did you get any N.E.W.T.s?" Ron asked, tentatively. He had never really had to deal with a calm Hermione in situations like these.

"I'm requested to meet with Professor Dumbledore," Hermione explained.

"You're what?"

"My 'presence is requested at the soonest possible convenience in the office of the Hogwarts Headmaster.' It doesn't say anything about my results." Hermione's eyes were shining. "Does this... this must mean I failed. I'm the first person to fail every single N.E.W.T!"

Ron saw the panic rising in her eyes, and pulled her toward him. "Hermione, don't be daft! You are the smartest witch Hogwarts had seen in years. Dumbledore probably just wants to tell you in person that you scored the highest ever."

But to his surprise, Hermione looked even more terrified at this. "Oh! Ron, maybe they think I cheated - what if my scores were TOO high, and they think I COULDN'T have done that well without some sort of help... but I didn't cheat, Ron, you know I didn't!"

A flustered Hermione: well, Ron knew how to handle this. Holding her shoulders at arms' length, he looked her in the eyes and smiled. "Hermione. You. Are. Brilliant. More than brilliant—genius."

Hermione smiled weakly.

"You know Dumbledore wouldn't accuse you of cheating. And you know full well that you didn't fail. So just go, go see what he wants."

She took a deep breath and nodded, looking down at the paper again. "Okay. It says that by signing on the line, I'll authorise the letter as a portkey. Ooooh..."

"Ooooh, what?"

"Well, it's just a really good spell... making conditional portkeys is really complicated." Her eyes were shining again, but this time it wasn't with tears. Ron laughed. That was more like the Hermione he knew. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and leaned forward to give her a short kiss.

"Good luck. Not that you'll need it."

Hermione smiled, picked up a quill from the desktop, and held it above the paper. "Here I go," she whispered, and as she completed the R in 'Granger,' her fingers seemed to lock onto the parchment, and she felt the familiar tug from somewhere behind her navel.

As her feet hit the floor and the world stopped spinning, Hermione looked around her, gave a small squeak, and dropped both quill and parchment.

(A/N: there's chapter 1. As maybe you can predict, it'll be getting more exciting now that this chapter's out of the way. I have a pretty good idea of where this is going, but still I'd love any suggestions and feedback. -clara)