Chapter 32
Harry Potter didn't have any idea what time it was when he heard his bedroom door open. Time no longer held any real meaning for him. What did it matter if it had been a few hours or a few days? It would all just blended together in the end. Half his summer had passed already and he'd barely noticed. He'd eaten when his stomach growled. He'd slept when his eyes felt heavy. He'd woken up, whenever he'd woken up. Awake or asleep, it made little difference to him. He was tormented by the same images in either state. There was no escaping them, no matter how hard he tried. The only difference was that it wasn't just Cedric and Sirius haunting him any longer. Dean and Colin had joined the cast of specters that besieged him, day and night. It didn't matter that he hadn't actually witnessed their deaths. They still played out clearly in his mind. The details varied with each reenactment, but it always ended the same way; with two little words and a blinding flash of green light.
"Harry?" he heard Ron's voice ask uncertainly. "You awake?"
He was, but his back was to the door, and he didn't want to talk to Ron. He didn't want to talk to anyone, so he closed his eyes and focused on keeping his breathing deep and steady, hoping that Ron would be fooled.
It must have worked, because Ron didn't speak to him again. Harry lay there and listened to his best mate move about their room. He heard the whoosh Ron's blanket and pillow made when he tossed them at his bed. He heard the bureau drawers open and then close. This was followed by the sound of shifting fabric, presumably caused by Ron changing his clothes. Then there was silence. An uncomfortable, forced sort of silence, and the longer it lasted, the more unnerved Harry became.
He had no idea what Ron was doing, but whatever it was, it was making him uncomfortable. He knew that Ron was still in the room. The door hadn't opened or closed again. So what the hell is he doing? Harry asked himself. Why is he so quiet? Is he just standing there, watching me? Is he waiting for me to move? Is he looking for signs that I might be faking? Am I really that obvious?
Apparently not, because even as Harry asked himself that final question, he heard the door open and then close again gently. He didn't have to open his eyes or turn around to know that he was alone. The heavy weight of Ron's stare had departed. With a sigh of relief, Harry rolled over on his back and resumed staring at the ceiling.
"He's not still asleep is he?" Ginny asked when she opened her bedroom door and saw her brother standing there.
"No," Ron said, brushing past her and entering the room. "He's faking it," he added, plopping down on the edge of his sister's bed. "Where's Hermione?"
"She's down in the kitchen talking to Mum," Ginny replied. "And I don't recall inviting you in."
"I knocked. You opened the door," Ron said, as if that was all the invitation he needed. "What she talking to Mum about?" he asked, praying it didn't have anything to do with where she'd slept.
"Well," Ginny replied cautiously. "We've discussed it and we think it would be best if Harry got some undisturbed sleep before we," she said, emphasizing the fact that she was included, "tell him about the prison break. That way he can come at it fresh and think about it rationally."
"She already told you?" Ron said, despite the fact he already had an answer to his question. "That was quick."
"Well you know, Hermione," Ginny replied. "She doesn't beat around the bush."
"So what does this have to do with Mum?"
"Well Mum is the one that brews the special tea, see?" Ginny answered as if Ron were a very slow child.
"And how exactly does she plan on getting Harry to drink it?" he replied irritably.
"I would imagine she's going to ask him."
"Yeah, except he's pretending that he's already asleep."
"As if she'll fall for that," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.
"All right," Ron conceded. "You have a point there. But what if he refuses to take it?"
"Well that's where you come in," Ginny said, fighting the urge to smile.
"Me?"
"Yeah," she replied as if it were obvious. "You're bigger then he is. If he refuses, you get to hold him down while we force it down his throat."
"Are you insane?" Ron cried.
"I'm kidding, you thick prat."
"Oh. So," Ron said, shifting uncomfortably. He knew his sister and he knew that she was trying to hide behind her humor. "Er... you ok?" he asked, averting his eyes.
"Yeah."
"Look, Gin," Ron persisted, despite her answer. "I know you and Dean were...um...well, I know and ... if you want to talk about it or anything... um..."
"We weren't," Ginny admitted reluctantly. "We weren't dating, I mean. We were... just friends. I only said that to...well it doesn't really matter now."
"It does too matter," Ron insisted. "So what if you weren't dating. I wasn't dating Hermione when... when we all thought that... well... you know? But that didn't change the way I felt."
"It's not the same thing," Ginny replied, sounding a little guilty. "I really didn't know him all that well. I was a lot closer to Colin."
"Oh," Ron replied. Guess that makes sense. They were in the same year. "Well, if you want to talk about it later or anything... you know?"
"Who are you?" Ginny asked, staring at Ron as if he suddenly sprouted an extra head. "And what have you done with my brother?"
"Shut up," he groaned, rolling his eyes at her.
"That's more like it," Ginny sighed contently. "There's the insensitive git I'm used to. Now one more time, with feeling."
"Shut up!" Ron shouted, with a smile that matched his sister's.
"Thanks."
"Any time."
Hermione returned to her room with an empty mug and a copy of the Daily Prophet clenched in her hand.
"Mum, actually let you have that?" Ginny asked, pointing at the paper in astonishment. "She didn't try and wrestle it out of your hands and toss it in the bin?"
"She probably would have if your father hadn't been in the kitchen when the delivery owl arrived."
"Beat her to it, did he?" Ron asked.
"Yeah," Hermione replied, setting the mug down on her bedside table and opening the paper. "He looked it over and then passed it to me, despite her protests."
"You didn't let Harry see it, did you?" Ginny asked.
"No," Hermione replied, prying her eyes off the print long enough to meet her young friend's worried gaze. "I left it out in the hall before I went in. I thought it would be better if we looked it over first. So there won't be any surprises."
"What surprises?" Ron muttered to himself. "We all know how he's going to react."
"So he drank it? Voluntarily?" Ginny asked, motioning towards the empty cup. "Told you he would," she added when Hermione nodded her head.
"How long did you take it?" Hermione asked, unable to stop herself.
"A couple months," Ginny replied. "By then the nightmares weren't as frequent and I was ready to handle them."
"Well?" Ron asked, as his sister walked over and stood beside Hermione, so she could gaze down at the headlines on the front page herself. "Anything we don't know?"
Death Eaters Escape From Azkaban
Hermione read the biggest headline out loud. "This one looks pretty much like the article they wrote after the first breakout."
"They even used the same pictures," Ginny agreed, staring at Antonin Dolohov pale, twisted face. "Except for Malfoy," she added with a smirk. "That one's new. Lucius Malfoy," Ginny read the legend under his smug photograph.
Escaped justice after Voldemort's downfall by claiming he was forced to act under the Imperius Curse. Reputed to be the leader of the band of Death Eaters captured in the Department of Mysteries this past June, but as of yet, this allegation has not been confirmed. The true extent of Mr. Malfoy's involvement with He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named, is yet unknown. No sentence had been given, as his trial was still pending.
"What the hell is all that 'reputed' and 'alleged' rubbish about?" Ron snarled.
"I would imagine they're being cautious because they don't want to be sued for liable," Hermione said, scanning the rest of the article and then proceeding on to the next.
"Uh huh. And Voldemort, being the nice guy that he is, freed him because he was innocent," Ron retorted. "Please."
Rather then respond, Hermione began reading the next article out loud.
Dark Marks Cloud the Sky
Muggle-borns Massacred
Late last night, a spokesman for the Minister of Magic, confirmed reports of Dark Marks materializing in at least five separate locations yesterday evening. Mr. Weasley would not...
"Percy," Ron growled, screwing his face up in disgust. "I can't believe he's still siding with that power-hungry...
Ignoring him, Hermione backtracked and continued to read even louder, in hopes of drowning him out.
Mr. Weasley would not answer questions, but he did give a brief statement.
"Earlier this evening, Dark Marks were discovered hovering over the scenes of five separate homicides. Teams of Aurors were immediately dispatched and they have the situation well underhand. They have done a throughout search of all the areas in question and assure us that the Dark Wizards responsible for these heinous crimes are no longer in the area.
"Yeah, that's because they were all off at Azkaban busting out their mates, you idiot," Ron growled, under his breath.
"Does it list the names of the victims?" Ginny asked, staring down at the paper again while Hermione scanned the rest of the article.
"No," she replied, when she had finished. "It just says that the victims were either Muggles or Muggle-born. That's it. No names. It does list the locations though."
"So there is nothing in there that we didn't already know?" Ron asked, falling back on Ginny's bed and staring up at the ceiling.
"Nope," Ginny replied, sitting on the edge of Hermione's desk. "So what are we going to tell Harry? That we read about the break out in the paper or that Bill told you?"
"That Bill told us, of course," her brother replied. "The paper doesn't say that the attacks were a diversion, but Bill did."
"Any idiot could figure that out," Ginny retorted. "Even you."
"Thanks," Ron groaned, when Hermione snorted.
"Huh?" she asked, dragging her eyes off the paper. "Did you say something to me?"
"What are you over there snickering about?" Ron asked.
"Oh," she replied with a slight smile. "Apparently the Prophet has gone off Fudge a bit. It's a lot like what they did to Harry last year, only the snide comments are a lot more obvious. I hope he enjoys a bit of his own medicine," Hermione declared, flipping to the next page. "See, this is what I mean," she continued, as if Ron and Ginny had read the articles with her and knew what she was talking about. "One now wonders if the Minister's generous benefactor was in fact dispensing brides?"
"Um, Ok," Ron said, shooting a quick look his sister's way to see if she understood what that was supposed to mean.
"They're suggesting that Malfoy, Fudge's 'generous benefactor', was paying him to look the other way," Hermione explained.
"You mean that Fudge is in Voldemort's pocket?"
"Exactly."
"So in other words, he knew about the attacks and the prison break, but didn't do anything about it." Ginny said.
"Essentially," Hermione agreed. "In a subtle sort of way."
"Think that's true?" Ron asked, his brow furrowed as he contemplated the accusation.
"I hope not," Hermione replied, "It's more likely that he's just an incompetent fool," she continued, tossing the paper on the desk next to Ginny. "At least I hope so. For your brother's sake."
"Don't worry about Percy," Ron snarled, "He's just like every other rat. He'll abandon that ship the minute it starts to sink."
Hermione noted that Ron wasn't the only one that was scowling, his sister had joined him. One look at her face was all it took for Hermione to know that Ginny agreed with her brother's assessment and was just as displeased by the thought as he was.
It was a few hours later when Bill happened to catch his youngest brother walking down the second floor hallway. "Ron," he said, coming up behind him, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder, and steering him away from the stairs and back towards the bedrooms, "I need to have a word with you. In my room."
"What?" Ron cried, warning bells chiming loudly in his head. I knew I shouldn't have come up here to check on Harry by myself. "But... now?" he asked, shrugging his shoulder in an attempt to free himself from his brother's grasp.
"Yes, now," Bill insisted.
"But, Hermione and Ginny are waiting for me."
"This will only take a few minutes," Bill replied, opening the door to his own bedroom and pushing Ron inside.
Oh God, Ron moaned internally, as the door snapped shut behind him. Don't let it be about what I think it's about.
"So," Bill said, positioning himself between his brother and the door. "You and Hermione spent the night together, did you?"
"OH NO!" Ron cried, shaking his head as he lunged for the door. "There is no way in hell I'm having this conversation with you again. You fucked me up enough the first time."
"Will you just hold on a minute?" Bill asked, grabbing Ron by the shoulders and shoving him back into the center of the room.
"No way!" Ron yelped. "Nuh uh! I'm not going to listen to this," he protested adamantly. "She told me not to listen to you and she's right. Now get out of my way."
"Hermione told you not to listen to me?" Bill asked, arching one eyebrow in surprise. "You told her what I said?"
"Of course I told her. You buggered everything up. I had no choice but to tell her," Ron admitted. "It was either that or let her go on thinking that I was so repulsed by her that I didn't want to touch her."
"What?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Ron barked, throwing himself at the door again. "Things are fine. Things are great. Now get out of my way."
"Am I going to have to use my wand on you, little brother?" Bill asked. "Because if that's what it takes to shut you up and keep you still for five minutes I'll do it."
"Fine!" Ron cried, crossing his arms in front of his chest and glaring at his brother. "Just say whatever it is you have to say and get it over with."
"Here," Bill said, snatching a worn and very battered book off the top of his bureau and shoving it into his brother's hand.
"What's this?" Ron asked, looking at the nondescript cover, searching for a title and finding none.
"That," Bill replied," Is a Weasley legacy. I gave it to Charlie, who gave it to Percy, who believe it or not, actually passed it along to Fred. Fred was supposed to give it to you, but obviously he didn't. He had some lame excuse about it being George's turn to have it," Bill explained. "As if George hasn't already read it cover to cover. Besides, George doesn't have a girlfriend and when he does, he can buy his own bloody book. That one is mine and I've decided that it's your turn to borrow it."
Ron didn't know what possessed him to do it, but before he even registered the fact that he was doing it, he opened the book and stared down at the dog-eared pages. "BLOODY HELL!"he shouted, his eyes as wide as saucers. "This is a sex book," he cried, slamming it shut again while blushing so deeply that his face resembled an over ripe turnip.
"Yes, I know," his older brother replied calmly.
"With moving pictures," Ron cried loudly.
"You'll find them quite educational."
"BLOODY HELL!" Ron shouted again. "A Weasley legacy? I AM NOT GIVING A SEX BOOK TO GINNY!" he cried indignantly.
"Of course not," Bill retorted, smacking Ron upside the head. "What's the matter with you? When you're finished with it, you give it to Harry."
"I'm not giving it to Harry either," Ron declared, his face still beet red. "He'll think I'm a pervert."
"I've got news for you, Ron," Bill chuckled, opening the door and walking out into the hall. "You are a pervert. So is Harry and every other bloke you know. Don't waste your time fighting it. Just accept it. It's much more fun that way. You're only young once, you know?"
"I'm going to tell Mum you said that if I get caught with this," Ron said, as his brother started to walk away. "I'll blame it all on you and your dirty little book."
"It's your dirty little book now," Bill laughed. "What you do or don't do with it, is none of my concern."
"We'll see if Mum agrees with that."
"There's gratitude for you," Bill chuckled, knowing that Ron was all bark and no bite. "A simple thank you, would have sufficed."
What the hell and I supposed to do with this? Ron wondered, staring down at the book in his hand as if it were his own private version of Pandora's Box. It was trouble. Pure and simple. The knowledge he could gleam from this small object in his hands could be very useful. But it was dangerous as well. If his mother found it, she'd go ballistic. And if Hermione caught him looking at it... well he didn't even want to contemplate her reaction. She'd drop him so fast his head would spin. He'd need a pornographic book then. It would be the only action he'd get.
Even so, there was no way he was going to let this opportunity pass him by. He was tempted to sneak off somewhere private, somewhere no one would think to look for him, and study it to his hearts content. But he couldn't. He was supposed to be downstairs. His sister and his girlfriend were waiting for him. If he didn't show up one of them, or even worse, both of them, would come looking for him. Eventually they'd find him and when they did... well it could be quite embarrassing.
No, he had to get rid of it, and fast. But where do I put it? Ron wondered as he wandered down the hall. He couldn't leave it in his room, because if he did, Harry might find it. And he certainly couldn't take it downstairs with him. If Hermione saw him with a book, she'd want to know what it was. And if he refused to tell her, she'd get suspicious and demand to see it. No, he couldn't take it with him. He'd have to get stash it somewhere before he went back down to the girls' room. Harry's still asleep, he reminded himself. I'll just drop it in my trunk for now and find a place to hide it later.
"Did you hear what I just said, Harry?" Hermione asked, glancing over at Ron and then back at their best friend, who still hadn't reacted to the news of the escapes.
"The attacks were all a distraction," Ron said, peering anxiously into his best mates face, searching for a sign of how he was taking it.
"So you said," Harry replied, reaching over and snatching Hermione's copy of the Daily Prophet right out of her hands. "It doesn't say that here," he said, after scanning the articles on the front page, and tossing the paper on his bed.
"Look, Harry," Hermione began, after exchanging another look with Ron.
"We told you that Bill told us that part."
"When he got back," Ginny added. "He was there. He saw the whole thing with his own eyes. Professor Dumbledore told Fudge that the attacks were all a diversion after he talked to Colin's mum. He told Fudge to send his Aurors to Azkaban, but you know how Fudge is? He doesn't like being told what to do. He ignored Dumbledore, so the Order went instead. Bill will tell you all this himself if you ask him," she added. "Just wait until Mum isn't around."
"No, I believe you," Harry replied, much calmer then anyone else expected. What they failed to realize was that this was actually good news. If the attacks were a diversion then it wasn't his fault. All those people hadn't died because of him. Well, they had in a way, but mostly it was because Voldemort wanted to throw the Ministry into disarray and have the Aurors attention focused everywhere but where he was really going to be.
"You do?" Ron asked, gaping at Harry in disbelief.
"You're taking it pretty well," Hermione said candidly.
"You expected me to get angry?"
"Well yeah," Ron replied. "I mean, who wouldn't? That sick bastard..."
"Ron," Hermione interrupted before he could get any further into his tirade.
"Well, I'm angry about it," Ron murmured, "So it only stands to reason that you would be too."
"Oh, I'm angry," Harry replied, clenching his fists at his sides as he said the words.
It was then that Ron noticed the cold fury burning in Harry's bright green eyes. He was fighting to contain his anger, but it was there, simmering just below the surface, trying to break loose. Only for whatever reason, Harry was holding it back. It was actually rather frightening to see that much ferocity locked up inside his best friend. Hermione could be quite intimidating when she was truly in a temper. She might be small, but she was fiery and prone to lash out in unexpected ways. Even so, Ron suspected that the sparks he'd seen fly out of her when she was hacked off, were nothing compared to the inferno Harry was trying to stomp down. He'd hate to be on the receiving end when that wrath if it were unleashed.
"But there's not a lot I can do about it right now," Harry continued.
"What do you mean, right now?" Hermione asked apprehensively. "You're not planning on going after him are you?"
"That's crazy!" Ginny cried.
"I don't have to go after him," Harry admitted, wondering how they'd react if they knew about the prophecy. "All I have to do is sit back and wait and he'll come after me."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione wailed. "Don't."
"Don't what?" Harry asked, even though he knew perfectly well what she meant. He just wanted to see if she'd say it.
"Sound so resigned," Ron answered for her. "You almost sound as if you're waiting for him to come and... kill you. Like you want him to or something?"
"It doesn't matter what I want," Harry admitted, deciding that it might not be the right time to share his secret with them, especially with Ginny there. Telling Ron and Hermione he had to become a murderer was going to be hard enough. But Ginny was different. He didn't know her as well as he knew the other two, and he had no way of knowing how she'd react. The last thing he wanted was for her to be afraid of him. Voldemort had already put her through hell once. The less she knew about all of this, the better. "It's going to happen regardless," he sighed, finally resigned to his fate.
"Not if I have anything to say about it," Hermione said tenaciously.
I hope you do come after me, you bastard, Harry thought. Because I'm going to be waiting and I'm definitely going to be ready this time. I'm not going to let you hurt anyone else I care about.
"What do you think?" Hermione asked Ginny as the two of them walked back down to their room.
"I don't know," the young redhead admitted. "I just don't know. He didn't react the way I expected him to."
"Maybe Ron will be able to get more out of him."
"Maybe," Ginny replied. But I doubt it.
It had been three days since their conversation with Harry about the jail break, and in all that time, he'd barely left his room. The only time he ventured out at all was to use the loo. If he didn't leave his room, he didn't have to see the house without Sirius in it. Ron and Hermione seemed to understand and neither of them pressured him. In fact, Ron actually stayed in seclusion with him for the first couple days, just to make sure he had company.
It was blatantly obvious, to Harry anyway, that his two best friends had discussed it at some point and agreed that Ron should be the one to mind him. And while he knew that their hearts were in the right place, he couldn't help but find it bothersome. It was more then bothersome, it was down right annoying. In fact, Ron was getting on his last nerve. He was always there, underfoot, in the way. Even now when Harry wanted to sleep he couldn't, because Ron kept flopping around restlessly in his bed.
Of course Harry wasn't the only one that was frustrated by the current arrangement. Ron was just as perturbed as best mate was. It wasn't his fault he couldn't fall asleep. It wasn't as if he wanted to spend half the night tossing and turning in a vain attempt to get comfortable. He couldn't help it if he was used to sleeping with Hermione snuggled up against him. Hermione, his girlfriend, who he'd barely seen, or talked to, in days. But just because he couldn't explain what his problem was to Harry, didn't give him cause to throw an alarm clock at him. And it had nearly hit him too.
Ron needed a break. He had to get out of the room, before he went stark raving mad or before Harry found something even bigger to throw at him. His mind made up, Ron hoped out of bed, grabbed his pillow and a blanket, and made for the door. He'd almost reached it when he stopped and returned to the foot of his bed.
"What now?" Harry groaned in the dark.
"Shut up and drink your ruddy tea," Ron growled back, popping the lid of his trunk and rummaging around inside. "It'll put you to sleep."
It took him a minute to find what he was searching for, but eventually his hands fumbled across the tattered cover of the book Bill had given him. Reading material in hand, Ron slammed his trunk shut, marched over to the door, and left the room.
"Ron!" Hermione yelped in surprise, when she opened the bathroom door and saw him standing directly on the other side. "What are you doing here?" she asked quietly, poking her head into the hallway and peering back and forth as if she expected Harry to be with him. She knew that things had gotten tense between them the other night, and that Ron had kipped out on the sofa in the drawing room. He'd dragged her out of bed as soon as he left his room and told her about everything that had happened.
They'd decided that maybe it wasn't such a good idea for Ron to spend so much time with Harry. They'd been taking it in shifts to sit with him ever since. Ron, who liked to sleep in, took the mornings and Hermione would pop in around lunch time and relieve him. She didn't stay very long though. Harry obviously wanted some time to himself, so more often then not, she'd drop his lunch off, chat with him for a while, or attempt to, and then depart. Her shift didn't really begin until the evenings anyway. Being the more persistent of the two or "the nag" as Ron had put it, she was in charge of trying to get Harry out of his room. And wonder of wonders, it actually worked. Maybe he was tried of staring at the same four walls, or maybe he was just tried of listening to her harp on, but it only took him a day to give in and follow her down to the drawing room.
That first night had been rather strained. Harry had spent most it staring at the tapestry hanging on the wall. Ron had tried to distract him with a game of chess, but even as they played, his eyes kept returning to the spot where Sirius' name had been burnt off.
In the middle of their second game, Hermione lost her mind, at least that was Ron's opinion at the time, and blurted out that she missed Sirius too. Ginny had immediately abandoned her homework and looked over at Harry to see what his reaction would be. Ron didn't bother waiting for a reaction; he kicked Hermione under the table, trying to shut her up. But Hermione, as usual, ignored him. She simply shifted her legs so they were out of reach and continued to talk, despite the look of horror on Ron's face. She didn't press Harry to talk about his feelings, rather she told him about her own. She just wanted him to know that he wasn't the only one that missed Sirius, or the only on that found it difficult to be in his house without thinking about him.
Ron's mouth actually fell open in disbelief when Harry started asking Hermione questions and then nodding his head as if he agreed with her answers. Rather then put him on edge, or worse, send him running from the room, the conversation seemed to relax him a bit. He stopped staring at the Black family tree, anyway. He even came back on his own the next afternoon, which was a good sign. Things with Harry were improving; at least Hermione thought so, but maybe he'd backtracked. Maybe that was why Ron was here.
"Is it Harry?" she asked anxiously. "Did he have a vision or something? What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," Ron replied, forcing his way into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. "I just wanted to see you. It's been ages since we've had any quality 'alone time,'" he added, arching his eyebrows suggestively. Then without so much as another word, he pounced on her.
"Are you insane?" Hermione hissed, when she gathered enough of her wits to pull away from his hungry lips. "Someone might see us," she moaned, not really even caring anymore. He was right; it had been so long since they had been alone together like this. She'd just been thinking about how much she missed it; how much she missed him, and here he was. His mouth on her neck and one of his hands was running down her back, and her body was tingling with waves of desire that only he could educe.
"In the bathroom?" he muttered, his breath hot in her ear.
"Mmmmn... no," Hermione groaned as she fought for her sanity. "No, when we leave."
"Oh, no they won't," he chuckled, holding up the hand that wasn't roaming over her backside and showing her what was in it.
"Does Harry know you have that?"
"Yeah!" he laughed. "There's a conversation I want to have. 'Hey Harry, mind if I borrow your invisibility cloak for a while. I'm off to ravage Hermione and I don't want Mum to see me.' No, he drank his tea early tonight," Ron confessed. "He'll be out for hours."
"What if I don't want to be ravaged?" she teased.
"You will by the time I'm though," he replied with a confident smirk.
"You smug prat," she laughed, swatting him on the arm.
"You love it," Ron stated, as he pushed her backwards and reached around her to turn the water on in the shower.
"Planning on taking a cold shower, are you?" Hermione asked, as she watched Ron tug his shirt off over his head.
"I may," he informed her, shucking his pajama bottoms as well, "when I get through taking care of you."
"I've already had a shower, thanks," Hermione taunted, biting her lower lip and letting her eyes drop to his boxers. "I'll just watch."
"Watch?" Ron snorted, tugging on the knot holding her dressing gown closed, then opening it, and running his hands over her shoulders as he pushed it off. "Where's the fun in that?" he asked, disappointed to discover that she was wearing a nightgown underneath.
"So you've never thought about what it would be like to watch me...take a shower?" she asked, choosing her words carefully. "To see me...wet, with my hands running over my own body?"
"OH GOD!" Ron groaned loudly. "Yes," he admitted, his voice low and husky. "God, yes. Please," he begged, his eyes smoldering with desire. "But... I don't know if I can just watch," he admitted.
"What exactly is it that you have in mind?" she asked coyly.
"How about if I watch you," Ron growled, reaching for the bottom of her nightgown and slowly sliding it up her legs, "and when I can't stand that anymore, we can replace your hands with mine?"
"In other words, you wash my back, I wash yours?"
"Something like that?"
"All right," Hermione agreed, after thinking it over for a minute, "but turn the lights down first."
"I've already seen you naked," Ron replied, even as he walked over and pulled the glass shade off one of the gas lamps illuminating the room.
"I know," she replied with a slight blush as Ron blew the flame out and replaced the shade. "But... just do it, ok?"
"Alright, love," Ron chuckled, moving to the lamp on the other side of the mirror and blowing it out too. "But I can still see you," he added, motioning to the lamp still burning on the opposite wall. "Want me to get that one too?"
"No," she replied, "If you do that I won't be able to see you."
"You can see me any time you want," Ron informed her, placing his hands around her waist and crushing her body against his own. "All you have to do is ask."
"I'll keep that in mind," Hermione giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. "Now shut up and kiss me."
"You're so bossy," Ron teased, just before he covered her lips with his own.
You always have to get in the last word, don't you? was the last thing Hermione thought before she allowed her sanity to ebb away.
"There you are," Ron said, popping his head in the girls' bedroom and spying Hermione hunched over her desk, her nose shoved in a book and her quill flying over a sheet of parchment. "What are you doing?" he asked. It had been two days since their encounter in the bathroom and he was hopping he could convince her to sneak off with him for a while.
"Potions homework," she replied, not even bothering to look up.
"But you finished your homework ages ago."
"Yes," she agreed, "but have you? We're going back to school in less than two weeks. Don't you think it's time you actually get started?"
"I've started it," Ron protested weakly.
"But you haven't finished any of it," Hermione shot back.
How she could read, write, and nag all at the same time, Ron would never understand.
"But you have," he said, trying to change the subject, "so what are you really doing?"
"I told you. I'm working on the Potions homework."
"But why? I mean you're finished."
"I'm finished, but Harry isn't," she responded, candidly.
"WHAT!" Ron cried, unable to hide his indignation. "You're not seriously doing Harry's homework for him?"
"Just his Potions," she answered calmly. "And stop looking at me like that," she snapped, her eyes still glued on her book. "You know how Professor Snape is. The other teachers will understand why Harry didn't get any of his homework done. They'll let it slide and give him make up work once we're back at school. But not Snape. He'll..."
"Use it as an excuse to kick him out of class," Ron finished for her. "The vindictive little son of a..."
"Ron!" she chided. "And we can't let that happen, can we?" she continued. "Because if he gets tossed out of Potions he can't become and Auror.""Hermione?" Ron said hopefully.
"Don't even go there," she snapped.
"But...fine," he sighed. "I'll just copy Harry's when he's through," he teased.
"Do that and you'll be tossed out right along with Harry."
"But we always do out homework together," Ron grumbled. "If our essays aren't similar, Snape will know something's up."
Hermione's quill froze in the center of the parchment and she finally brought her eyes up at looked at Ron. "All right," she said, after studying him intently.
"Really?" Ron asked, his whole face lighting up.
"Go get your stuff," she said, shoving her essay in the middle of the book she'd been reading and then closing it. "I'll meet you in the drawing room and we'll work on it together."
"You mean I still have to write it myself?" he complained half heartedly. Writing an essay with Hermione wouldn't be nearly as hard as writing it on his own. If he fumbled along and pretended that he didn't understand what he was reading, she'd pretty much tell him what to write. With a little luck, he'd have it finished in an hour or two.
"Does Harry write your essay for you when you work with him?"
"No," Ron chuckled.
"Well then?" she said, rising up out of her chair and snatching a bottle of ink and her quill off the desk.
"Mione?" Ron asked from the doorway. "Will you help me with my Transfiguration essay when we're finished? I really have tried on that one you know, but the book is confusing and it makes a lot more sense when you explain it to me."
"Where's Harry?" she asked, rather then answer his question.
"We went up to feed Buckbeak."
"Really?" Hermione asked, sounding more then a little shocked. "I wouldn't think he'd want to go anywhere near that room. Buckbeak has to remind him of Sirius."
"Yeah," Ron admitted.
"Maybe he's ready to confront it."
"That or he was looking for a place to brood."
"I thought he was doing better," she replied. And it was true, he was doing better. Harry spent most evenings, and even some afternoons in the drawing room now. He'd stopped avoiding everyone and actually had conversations with every member of the Weasley family at one point or another. He still wouldn't go down to the kitchen, but that wasn't really a problem. Mrs. Weasley was now sending meals up for the trio and Ginny. They usually ate in the drawing room, or the Grimmauld Place Common Room, as Ginny liked to call it.
"Well, you know how he is?" Ron reminded her. "Some days are better then others."
"All right," Hermione sighed. "Well go get your stuff. And don't forget to bring my Transfiguration book with you," she added, gathering her book into her arm before shoving him into the hall.
"It's about time you showed up," a soft voice said mere moments after Harry entered the room Sirius kept Buckbeak in and closed the door.
"What are you doing in here?" Harry asked, spinning around in alarm and staring into Ginny's deep brown eyes.
"Waiting for you," she replied, tossing a dead rat at the hippogriff. "I've been up here every day this week actually," she continued. "I knew it was just a matter of time until you..."
"Until I what?" Harry asked resentfully. Was he that predictable?
"Until you revisited the scene of the crime."
"What?"
"You heard me," Ginny replied, casually tossing another rat on the floor. "You can't go to the Department of Mysteries, so this is the next logical location. It was either here, or Sirius' bedroom. I'll admit I wasn't sure which you'd choose, so I've been waiting for you in both."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry growled, turning away from her and moving towards the door.
"Don't try and pull that 'you don't know what I'm feeling' rubbish with me," Ginny cried, jumping out of her chair and positioning herself between him and the door. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," she shouted as she advanced on him. "And you know that I know that you know. I've been where you are, and I can read the signs well enough."
"I don't want to talk about it," Harry grumbled, averting his eyes to the floor.
"I'm sure you don't," she replied, crossing her arms in front of her chest and preparing herself for battle, "but you're going to."
"Oh I am, am I?" Harry shouted, his anger mounting.
"Go ahead, yell all you want," Ginny replied. "In fact, maybe you ought to throw something while you're at it. It'll make you feel better. Here," she said, snatching the bag of rats up off the floor and tossing them at Harry. "Throw these at Buckbeak, one at a time. Don't worry," she added, when his eyes went wide. "It's a game I play with him. He'll snatch each and every one of them out of the air before you can hit him."
"I'm not throwing things at a Buckbeak," Harry replied, dropping the bag at his feet and kicking it towards the hippogriff. "He didn't do anything wrong."
"Neither did Ron or Hermione, but that hasn't stopped you from taking it out on them."
"I have not," Harry protested loudly. "I haven't shouted at them once."
"What about the clock?"
DAMN! he thought, his mouth dropping open in surprise. Ron told her about the clock. "That was only the one time," he said, trying to justify his actions, "and he was driving me insane."
"So you hurled a clock at him?"
"Ron throws things all the time. It was no big deal."
"Uh huh."
"I don't care if you believe me."
"The point is Harry, you don't believe yourself. Stop fighting it and just let it happen."
"Let what happen?" he asked, genuinely confused now.
"You're almost there," Ginny replied. "You've made it past the denial and the anger. You've done the whole bargaining thing and realized that will never work. You've been stuck in the depression stage for weeks. There's only one stage left. Acceptance. You saw the light at the end of the tunnel and that's why you came up here. Because you're used to the anger and the depression and you feel guilty about letting go of all that and moving on. Deep down you still feel like you need to be punished. Like you don't deserve to be happy after what you've done. Sirius is gone. He'll never be happy again, and you shouldn't be happy either. That is what you're thinking isn't it."
"DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT HIM! YOU BARELY EVEN KNEW HIM!"
"Do you have any idea how many times I found my self standing outside Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom?" Ginny asked, completely ignoring Harry's outburst. "How many times I went down the dinner and wound up in the corridor where Justin and Nearly Headless Nick were attacked instead? Do you know how hard it was for me to look at Colin every day in class at the beginning of our second year? Or how guilty I felt every time I ran into Hermione in the library and she was nice to me? I nearly killed one of my brother's best friends and she was nice to me afterwards. And the sickest part was that I wanted to feel guilty," Ginny admitted sadly. "Everyone else acted as if I wasn't responsible. No one else was going to punish me, so I decided to punish myself. Eventually I realized what the rest of you already knew. It really wasn't my fault. I made a mistake. A silly, stupid, life shattering mistake. But that's all it was. I didn't do it on purpose. I'm not a bad person. I didn't attack those people. Tom Riddle did. You made a mistake, Harry. That's all it was. You didn't do it on purpose. And you're not a bad person either."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Harry moaned, struggling to keep the emotions welling up inside of him from bursting out. The anger he could handle, but not the over whelming sadness and sense of loss. No, wouldn't let that out in front of Ginny. He wasn't going to let that out in front of anyone.
"You didn't kill Sirius, or anyone else," Ginny persisted. " Voldemort did. Deep down you know that he'd hate to see you like this. He'd hate that you were blaming yourself for something that Voldemort did. You're punishing yourself for something that wasn't your fault."
"IT WAS MY FAULT!" Harry roared at the top of his lungs. Better to focus on the anger then the feel the pain.
"Even if it was," Ginny said softly, "We both know that Sirius wouldn't want you punishing yourself. He loved you Harry. He'd want you to be happy. He wants you to move on."
"You don't know what he wants," Harry growled. "No one knows, because he's dead."
"Yes, he is. Bellatrix Lestrange killed him," Ginny said bluntly. "She killed him because he was trying to prevent her and Voldemort from hurting you. You're well-being was more important to him then his own," she said, fighting back her own tears. "And this is how you thank him. You're using his death as an excuse to wallow in self pity."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
"I bet that felt good didn't it?"
"YOU DON'T KNOW WHO I AM! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME! ALL YOU SEE WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME IS SOME STUPID, TRAGIC MISUNDERSTOOD, HERO! THE GOD DAMNED BOY WHO LIVED! THE SAVIOR OF THE WIZARDING WORLD! WELL, THAT'S NOT WHO I AM!"
"Who are you then?"
"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHO I AM!" he bellowed. "ALL THAT MATTERS IS WHAT I HAVE TO BECOME!"
"Oh yeah?" she pressed, undaunted by his rage. "What's that?"
"A FUCKING MURDERER! LORD VOLDEMORT'S TWISTED REPLACEMENT!'
"You're out of your mind," Ginny scoffed.
Harry didn't know what to say. He actually couldn't believe it. All he could do was stand there with his mouth open gaping at her like an idiot, while she laughed at him. He'd just told her that he was going to turn into a murderer and she had the gall to laugh at him.
"A murderer," Ginny hooted. "Please. You're going to have to do better then that, Harry."
"It's the truth," he cried, saying the first thing that popped into his mind. "That's what that stupid prophecy said." That certainly got her attention, Harry thought when Ginny stopped laughing and looked at him oddly. Not so funny now is it?
"So you did hear it then? Before Neville broke it? You might have told him, you know? He felt horrible about that. He said that he'd let you down."
"I'm glad he broke it," Harry replied honestly. "So no one will ever hear it."
"If you heard it why didn't Neville?" Ginny asked, looking at him as if she wasn't quite sure she believed his story.
"I didn't hear it..." he started, but Ginny cut him off before he could finish.
"Then how do you know what it said?"
"Dumbledore told me, all right?"
"Wait a minute," Ginny said, "Let me get this straight. Professor Dumbledore told you that all this time, he's been training you to become a murderer so you can replace Lord Voldemort? Please."
"It's the truth."
"No it's not. You must have misunderstood him."
"No, I didn't," Harry insisted.
"Yes, you did, "Ginny shot right back. "Despite what you may think, I do know you Harry, and I know Tom Riddle. And the two of you are as different as night and day. There is no way you'll ever become anything like him. It's just not possible."
"That's what the prophecy said."
"What exactly did it say?" she challenged.
Harry studied Ginny closely for a moment and then figured what the hell; he'd already told her pretty much everything else. If he told her the exact words, she'd know he was telling the truth and probably run for the hills. At least then this conversation would be over. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...,' he began, reciting the words that were seared into his mind. "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."
"And where exactly is the part where it says you are going to become a murderer?" Ginny asked, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Did you miss the whole 'either must die at the hand of the other' part?" he replied somewhat sarcastically.
"That's not murder, you idiot."
"WHAT!" Harry yelped in disbelief.
"That's self defense, you thick prat. It's not murder if you are defending your own life."
"What?" Harry asked again.
"Come on Harry," Ginny said, arching one eyebrow in surprise. "You didn't seriously think that meant you were going to turn into some heartless killer did you? I mean, honestly."
"Well, yeah," Harry admitted.
"It's ridiculous," Ginny laughed. "You must see that."
"It is not," he protested, feeling a bit stupid, but not wanting to let it show.
"But you're the tragic hero, remember?" Ginny replied, using his own words against him. "If someone is in trouble, you have to save them. It's what you do. It's who you are. You're the hero, not the villain."
"I'm not the hero either," he replied.
"That's funny," she shot back. "I seem to recall someone telling me that you once killed a basilisk with a sword and rescued a fair maiden. Don't Muggles write fairy stories about things like that? "
"Fairy tales," he corrected without really knowing why. It was official. He'd cracked his nut. He was turning into Hermione when he wasn't looking. "Um... look Ginny, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell Ron or Hermione about that whole prophecy thing. Or anyone else for that matter. You know," he said uncomfortably. "I'd just rather do it myself."
"Sure," she agreed, much more readily then he would have suspected. "If that's what you want. Lucky for you, I'm good at keeping secrets. But just so you know, they won't buy the whole Dark Lord in training bit either. Although Fred and George will get a kick out of it when they hear about it. They may even start following you around again, announcing you as a 'seriously dark wizard' every time you enter the room."
"Shut up."
"Oh come on, it was funny."
"Only because it wasn't you they were bothering."
"Yeah well," Ginny replied, "try putting up with them for 15 years and then we'll talk about who has it bad."
Ron and Hermione had no idea about the conversation that had taken place between Harry and Ginny in Buckbeak's room, but they definitely noticed the sudden change in his attitude. He wasn't nearly as sullen or withdrawn as he had been previously. It was obvious to them both that something had happened while Harry was with the hippogriff. They could actually see a glimmer of the old Harry shinning through at times. He smiled at Ron's jokes, and even laughed at a couple of them.
But the most encouraging development had occurred just yesterday when Harry sought out Professor Lupin and spent most of the afternoon with him. That was a great sign, in Hermione's opinion. Professor Lupin was the closest thing Harry had left to a father and since he also happened to be Sirius' best friend, he definitely knew what Harry was going though. If anyone could understand his grief and help him through it, it was Lupin. She just hopped that Harry wouldn't try and keep him at arms length, for fear of something happening to him. Their old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher needed Harry, just as much as Harry needed him.
Lost in her own thoughts, Hermione wasn't really watching the chess match that was taking place in front of her. She didn't really need to watch the game to know who would win. Ron might toy with his opponent from time to time, and let them think they had an advantage, but no one ever beat him. How Harry could play him again and again without getting frustrated by that fact, she'd never understand.
"Finished packing?" Mrs. Weasley asked, popping into the room and setting a tray of sandwiches down on the writing desk, beside Ginny's nearly finished History of Magic paper.
"Yeah," Ron replied as he studied the board.
"How's your essay coming dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked her daughter.
"Almost done," Ginny replied with a sigh of relief. "I just have to add the conclusion."
"What about you Harry," Mrs. Weasley inquired. "Finished with all your homework?"
"Yeah," Ron answered before Harry even had time to register the question and reply. "Hermione helped us both with it. You know how she is," he continued. "A regular homework Nazi," he muttered under his breath.
"Excuse me," Hermione cried as she slugged him in the arm. That would teach him to say something like that when she was sitting right beside him.
"Well, just make sure you really are all packed by the end of the night," Mrs. Weasley said as she made for the door. "Because we'll be leaving much earlier then normal. Anything that isn't packed by tomorrow morning is just going to have to stay here. Including that chess set," she added.
"Yes, Mum," Ron moaned, rolling his eyes as she left the room. "You've only told us a hundred times," he shouted after her. "Maybe I ought to let Pig out of his cage," he said, leaning forward and moving his knight. "Leave the little git here just to annoy her."
"I'm sure Hedwig would appreciate that," Ginny chuckled. "Of course she'll just send him back to you with a rude letter."
"At least I won't have to deal with him on the train," Ron replied. "You know," he continued as Harry made his move. "That might not be such a bad idea really. I could write myself a letter or something and send him on ahead."
"Except he'll deliver it to you on the train," Hermione informed him with a smirk. She was just about to suggest he write to Hagrid instead when something large and black fell from the ceiling and landed on her thigh. She brushed it off on instinct, neither knowing nor caring what it was, as she jumped to her feet.
Unfortunately it landed on the couch right beside Ron, who did happen to see what it was. He leapt off the sofa so fast, he knocked the chessboard over as he quickly put some distance between himself and the spider. He was clear across the room, standing behind Harry's chair by the time the chess pieces hit the carpeted floor.
"What did you do that for?" he shouted at Hermione, backing away even further, when Crookshanks sprang off the back of the sofa and batted the spider onto the floor.
"What?" Hermione asked, trying not to snicker. Unfortunately, Harry and Ginny were already laughing, which made it all the more difficult to hold herself back.
Ignoring the chess pieces, Crookshanks sprang onto the floor and pounced on the spider before it could scurry away. Ron watched in horror, as the cat pinned it with one paw, then picked it up in his mouth, and ate it.
"EEEEEWWWWWWW!" he groaned with a shudder.
That was the final straw. She just couldn't hold it back anymore. Even as Hermione started to laugh, she saw the emotions play across Ron's face. He was hurt, disgusted and insulted, all at the same time. She really didn't want to laugh at him, but she just couldn't help it. Before she could reign herself in, he turned around and stalked out of the room.
"RON!" Hermione called after him, knowing that they had embarrassed him. "Don't go," she pleaded. "We'll stop. Honest."
This of course, caused Harry and Ginny laugh even harder.
"We should probably stop," Ginny manages to get out. "Well, at least Crookshanks saved him from the big bad spider."
"Ginny," Hermione chuckled. "That's not very nice."
"I'll go get him," Harry said, forcing himself to sober up.
"No," Hermione protests, "I should probably do it. He thinks I threw it at him on purpose. You set up the board," she said, rising up off the couch. "I'll go bring him back."
"You sure?" Harry asked, looking at her doubtfully. "If you say so," he added, shrugging his shoulders. "I'll just play Ginny until you two are done rowing."
"We're not going to fight," Hermione said, walking out of the room.
"Yeah, I've noticed that," Harry muttered under his breath. "What's up with them?" he asked Ginny as she took Ron's place on the couch. "How come they stopped bickering all the time? They're holding it in because of me, aren't they?"
"Something like that?" Ginny replied evasively. "You know, because they don't want to upset you."
"Can't say I miss it all that much," Harry replied as he set up the chessboard.
Ron looked so miserable when Hermione found him sulking in his bedroom that she couldn't help herself. She walked right up to him without saying a word and kissed him.
"You are absolutely adorable," she said with a smile, when she pulled away.
"That wasn't very nice, Hermione," Ron moaned, obviously still embarrassed and rather hurt.
"I didn't do it on purpose," she assured him. "I was startled. I slapped it away before I even knew what it was."
Ron looked down at her doubtfully. It didn't help that she was biting her lip to keep from laughing again.
"I'm sorry, I can't help it," she admitted, struggling to hold it back. "It's sweet actually."
"Oh that's nice," Ron cried. "The three of you laughing at me is sweet?"
"No, your reaction. The fact you didn't try and hide that you were afraid. I find it charming that you can be..."
"I wasn't afraid," he cried out indignantly. "I just wasn't expecting you to throw a great hairy spider at me, that's all.""Ron, it's all right. We all know you don't like them. It isn't anything to be ashamed of."
"I'm not ashamed and I'm not afraid," he said defensively, his voice getting louder. "I went into the Forbidden Forest and faced Hagrid's man eating acromantulas didn't I?"
"Yes, you did," she said grabbing his hand, no longer laughing. "And don't think I'll ever forget it," she added, giving him another kiss. "Why don't we go back down?"
"So you can all laugh at me some more?"
"It's not like that, Ron. We weren't making fun of you, it was just..."
"Just what?"
"The situation. It was funny. I jumped up too. How do you know they weren't laughing at me? Besides," she added when he shot her a cynical look, "it's good for Harry to laugh."
"Yeah, right," he mumbled, looking at his feet.
"Harry and I don't care if you are.... if you don't like spiders. We have our own phobias you know?"
"I saw your boggarts. They weren't irrational fear."
"I'm afraid of heights."
"What?"
"I don't like high places," Hermione admitted. "I'm ok, as long as I don't look down, but when I do it makes me dizzy and I'm afraid I'm going to fall."
"I've never seen you get dizzy in the astronomy tower. You don't hesitate to approach the telescopes and they are near the edge."
"It's dark and we are looking at the sky, not the ground."
"It's not dark when we watch a Quidditch match."
"I know. That blasted game would have to be played 50 feet in the air, she thought. "And I cringe every time one of you leans over the side of the box.
"And you cover your eyes," Ron said, picturing her in his mind.
"Yes."
"I always thought you were just nervous about the game."
"No," Hermione replied, shaking her head. I'm afraid one of you will fall and break your neck, she thought, but didn't voice that part.
"But... you got on the thestral. You flew to London."
"And you faced Hagrid's acromantulas. Sometimes we don't have a choice. Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the door. "If we don't go back down, Harry will come looking for us and there is no telling what we'll be doing by then."
"Rubesco," Tonks shouted, pointing her wand at the back of Hermione's head and giving it a quick swish. "Well?" she asked, staring at the younger woman's reflection in the mirror and watching her hair change from its normal mousy brown to a deep auburn color that was streaked with highlights as red as Ginny's.
"Absolutely not," Hermione cried, studying her own reflection with mounting trepidation.
"Actually, you look pretty good as a redhead," Ginny replied, trying to sooth her friend's nerves. She knew that Hermione wasn't exactly keen on the idea of changing her appearance. Still, it was necessary, like it or not. "Can you make it straighter?" Ginny asked Tonks.
"Well, that's a bit harder," the young Auror admitted. "Took me ages to get it down right. I accidentally used 'Mina' once," she laughed. "I only realized it meant smooth, as in bald, when all my hair fell out. I was never so happy to be a Metamorphmagus," she confessed. "Linare," Tonks cried, following the incantation up with a complicated flick of her wrist. "Like that?" she asked, as Hermione's bushy hair transformed into smooth, silky tresses before their eyes.
"Perfect," Ginny cried with glee. "You'll have to teach her how to do that one herself."
"It does look pretty good," Tonks added. "You'll blend right in."
"Ron will hate it," Hermione lamented. "I look like his sister."
"More like a cousin," Ginny snickered. "One that wasn't cursed with the Weasley freckles."
"NO!" Hermione declared loudly, imagining the look of horror plastered across her boyfriend's face.
"Oh, all right," Tonks sighed. "What about this? Albesco," she said, waving her wand again and causing Hermione's hair to turn platinum blond.
"And look like that French Trollop?" Hermione spat. " I. Don't. Think. So."
"Well, at least you know Ron will like it," Ginny snickered under her breath. Unfortunately, Hermione heard her.
"Shut up."
"You just don't like her because Ron asked her to the Yule Ball."
"Ron asked Bill's girlfriend out?" Tonks asked, lowering her wand in surprise. "What is it with the Weasley males and that snooty cow? Every time she walks into a room they make complete arses out of themselves."
"She's part Veela," Hermione growled.
"And she obviously has bad aim. A few years ago, she was putting on the charm, trying to get this bloke at school to ask her to the ball, only she missed and hit my prat of a brother instead. So Ron asked to the ball and apparently Hermione still hasn't forgiven her for it," Ginny chuckled.
"That's not true," Hermione retorted. "I never liked her. Even before that. What's to like? She spent all her time sauntering around Hogwarts like some princess, with her nose shoved in the air, moaning about how 'orible' our school is. "Zis 'ogwarts food is so 'eavy," Hermione gripped in a rather impressive mock French accent. "I'll get fat and zey boys will stop fawning all ovair me. Ze castle is too drafty. Ze armor is ugly and zat awful little poltergeist would nevair be allowed to entair into ze beautiful Palace du Beauxbatons. Where we 'ave choirs of wood nymphs, oo serenade us while we eat ower superb cuisine. And zen zere are ze grand ice sculptures, zat sparkle like diamonds."
"Hey, that's pretty good," Ginny laughed. "I didn't know you could do impressions. Do Krum?"
"No," Hermione replied crossly.
"Come on Herm-own-ninny, you know you want to," Ginny teased, earning herself a contemptuous glare. "You seriously hate her, don't you?" she asked.
"I don't hate her," Hermione replied. "I just don't trust her."
"What do you mean?" Tonks asked, not even bothering to repress how amused she'd been at Hermione's impression.
"It's just always seemed rather convenient to me that she stayed behind to improve her 'Eenglish', when she speaks it perfectly well. It would be the ideal cover for a spy, wouldn't it?"
"HAAAAAAA!" Ginny hooted, doubling over and clutching her sides. "You just accused Bill of fraternizing with the enemy. Bwahahaha! Wait till I tell Ron."
"You know?" Tonks said thoughtfully. "That's idea is not so far fetched, really. If she's really a Veela."
"She is."
"Voldemort has always relied on informants and who better to spy on our side then a Veela. Bill never told me, but I should have guessed. It makes perfect sense now. That's why he turns into a blithering idiot every time she walks into a room. That shameless hussy, she's been enchanting him."
"Exactly." Hermione agreed.
"Are you two listening to yourselves?" Ginny cried though her laughter. "It's ridiculous."
"She certainly glommed onto Bill fast enough," Hermione said under her breath.
"Well, he is the hottest bloke in Gringgots," Tonks muttered.
"OH...STOP!" Ginny shrieked between bouts of laughter. "Bill... hot!"
"You just don't see it because he's your brother," Hermione informed her.
"Not you too," Ginny cried with mirth.
"Come on, Ginny," Tonk replied. "You have to admit, he's far better looking then the rest of his colleagues."
"Plus she knows that he's close to Harry," Hermione muttered under her breath.
"That's because they're goblins," Ginny hooted, in response to Tonks' comment. "Unless you like em short, wrinkled and hairy..."
"Can we get back to my hair?" Hermione said tetchily.
"Oh right," Tonks said, waving her wand again. "Auricoma," she cried, turning Hermione's hair a rich honey blond. "What about that?" she asked.
"It's better, but it still looks odd. Do I have to do this? Isn't it enough that you've already straightened it? Can't I just..."
"You heard Moody," Tonks said abruptly, cutting her off. "And I happen to agree with him for once. They had you long enough to procure a hair sample and we can't take the risk of them planting a polyjuiced imposter on the train. The last thing we need is a Death Eater lurking around on the Hogwarts Express trying to get at Harry. Altering your appearance is the best was to assure that doesn't happen. It's for your own safety as well as everyone else's. So it's either this or red," Tonks insisted. "Unless you want to try the black again?"
"No," Hermione sighed. "I suppose this will be fine. It's only for one day. I can live with it." If I have to, she continued in her head.
"It'll last roughly 5 hours," Tonks informed her, pocketing her wand. "But that won't matter. Just find me on the train and I'll boost the charms before they wear off."
"You're going to ride the train with us?" Ginny asked, turning away from the mirror and staring at Tonks in surprise. "All the way to Hogwarts?"
"She won't be the only one," Bill said, walking through the open door and entering the girls bedroom. "Dumbledore asked for an entire security detail."
"Are you going to be there?" Ginny asked her brother.
"Of course," Bill replied offhandedly. "Wouldn't trust anyone else to mind my baby sister now, would I?"
"BILL!" Ron's voice echoed down the hallway, drawing everyone's attention. "Mum says to hurry up with those trunks," he added, his voice getting louder as he got nearer. "She told me to come and help you with th--" But the rest of the sentence died on Ron's lips as he stopped short in the doorway and stood there, gaping at Hermione in dismay. "Bloody hell, Hermione!" he exclaim loudly. "What did you do to your hair?"
"It looks nice, doesn't it?" Bill asked pointedly, elbowing his youngest brother in the ribs.
"No," Ron replied without thinking. He was so focused on Hermione's silky golden locks that he didn't even register the fact Bill was shaking his head sadly and moving away from him. "I liked it better the way it was," Ron continued. "Put it back."
"You are such a prat," Ginny declared, rolling her eyes. "Don't listen to him, Hermione," she said turning away from Ron in disgust. "It looks nice. Even Bill thinks so. He's just afraid the blokes on the train will take notice and he'll have to compete with them for your attention. Although," she added, as a warning to her idiot of a brother, "why you'd want to hang out with some git that insults you, is beyond me."
"I didn't insult her," Ron cried out in protest. "I just said I liked it better before. Whatcha change it for?"
"IF YOU LOT DON'T GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!" Mrs. Weasley's voice bellowed up the stairs. "YOU'RE ALL GOING TO MISS THE TRAIN!!"
"COMING MUM!" Bill shouted back, pulling his wand and aiming it at Hermione's trunk. "Locomotor Trunk," he said, causing it to rise up into the air and follow him out of the room. "Tonks, can you get..."
"Already on it," she said, pointing her wand at Ginny's trunk and following Bill out the door.
"You can carry Crookshanks," Ginny said, scooping the cat carried up off Hermione's bed and shoving it at her brother.
"Oh can I?" Ron asked sarcastically.
"Fine, be a prat. I'll carry your girlfriend's cat for her," Ginny said, before exiting the room.
"Damn it, Ginny. Wait," Ron said, but she was already gone. "Sorry," Ron muttered, turning away from the empty door and venturing a quick glance at Hermione.
"For what?" Hermione asked, moving into the hall and making for the staircase.
"For being a prat," Ron replied, following after her.
"You were just being yourself," Hermione said softly, taking his hand and giving it a quick squeeze before releasing it again. "And I wouldn't have you any other way."
Author's Notes:
Just thought you might like to know that there is an NC-17 outtake that goes along with this chapter explaining what exactly occurred between Ron and Hermione in the bathroom. It's called Behind Closed Doors and is posted at Checkmated . com. You'll have to register for access to the BedChamber (that's the restricted NC-17 section) to read it however.