"Something happened."
"She's never failed an assignment before."
"That's no reason to cry like this when you get back from being told-off. Or getting a bad grade."
"What do you expect me to do, Ronald? Put her under Veritaserum and squeeze a confession from her? Do I like so much like a toad to you?"
"No", Ron quickly evaded an escalation, "Just – take her out for a butterbeer – or a gillywater – do things girls do – and find out what the heck happened to her!"
"Snape happened", Ginny stated, in a matter-of-fact tone, "This git let her fail a fortnight before your OWLs, with her ambitions – that was a targeted blow, perhaps Umbridge talked him into it, as retaliation for the DA. And she's on record for her bad grade, so perhaps Snape insinuated this was jeopardizing her career or something. Hell, I'd probably be still crying if I were her!"
"Please, Ginny, talk to her. Harry's worried, too."
"How would you know, anyway?", Ginny inquired, "No offense, Ron, but you've hardly ever shown the sensitivity -"
"Parvati told Harry at breakfast."
"With the whole house listening, I suppose." The eyeroll was audible.
"Possibly", Ron eluded her contempt, "Listen, Parvati told him she heard Hermione whimper and sob, like when Krum had left -", the pause was thick and uncomfortable, "- but she would fall asleep sometime after midnight. Same goes for her 'detention' with Snape in the passed few weeks. And she's – changed – using make-up and stuff."
"I've noticed."
"Don't you think that this git might -?"
" - I've asked", Ginny revealed, trying to calm him down. "She said he's only used her brains, for whatever that's supposed to mean."
"Her brains? In contrast to what?"
"Well – her."
"Ah, she told us about that."
"She has?"
"Yeah, it's indeed a consequence from her busting the DA, but Dobby is taking care."
"I love it when you express yourself so extensively. So, if you know what happened, why come to me at all?"
"Because Hermione's not herself. Parvati said she left for the bathroom at about four in the morning, and came back at five thirty."
"And jumped to the conclusion that she was trying to drown herself", Ginny commented sarcastically. "Sure she wasn't in the library, checking on the exact composition of Puffleweed fertilizer?"
"Fine", Ron let out an annoyed sign, "If you don't want to, I'll talk to her myself. And beware Snape if he has done anything indecent to her."
That seemed to instill some motivation into his younger sister. "I'll talk to her. But I still think she's just suffered an unexpected blow at a strenuous time. And Ron -"
"What?"
"It's not indecent if someone's agreeing to it. Doesn't mean you can't get hurt."
Hermione imagined her casting a look at her brother, half-annoyed by his ignorance, but almost presumptuous in lecturing him. Perhaps she managed to melt it into an expression of pity without downright embarrassing him. Hermione heard two chairs scratch over the ancient wood of the library's floor, leaving no trace, as if by magic. She was certain they had not noted her listening on them from behind the shelf.
She spent most of her Saturday in silence, bend over notes from five years of magical education, and ruining the product of her discipline with tears. After lunchtime in the grounds she had calmed down far enough to place an Impervious Charm on the parchments, which saved most of her sketches from Care of Magical Creatures. Dinner was her first meal of the day. Since she still felt unable to talk to anyone, she further postponed telling Harry and Ron what she had heard and returned to the library, meeting only half-dried sheets with ink and salt. A quick blow-dry charm allowed her to bewitch the cried-over parchments to their former state. She caught herself wishing for a charm to clean her mind from the overheard conversation in Snape's office, like soap peeling dirt from every fiber of her laundry, and the Impervious charm prevented her notes from getting soaked again. When she left the library, she found the castle soused in heat from the summer's day, belying the chill further into the night that had wrapped itself around it. Halfway up the Gryffindor tower, she seriously thought of going to the hospital wing for a calming draught, since Ginny certainly waited for her in the common room, having herself talked into complying with Rons wish. Hermione was not sure whether she could stand telling her how she felt.
The tingling sensation had ceded in the morning, only to make way for a low, deep, comfortable burning sensation, starting in her stomach, then spreading to the very tips of her fingers. She had known arousal, perhaps obsession even, certainly a strong crush on someone. Secretly uttered assurances of affection and touch at the right spot, more or less, added their weight to emotional immersion. But this, she hardly dared to admit to herself, was something else. Without any distraction containing this strange warmth, it filled her completely when she reached the portrait hole, making her steps light and quick. Hoping for the make-up charm to cover what must be glowing cheeks, she passed the Fat Lady, only to find the common room in an unexpectedly heavy mood, much too quiet for a Saturday afternoon, students huddled up in small groups and wearing worried faces. She recognized that state, too. They had been cornering like this the night she returned from the hospital wing after Dean's poisoning.
Harry and Ron had taken seats not far from the crimson, which crackled merrily, issuing nothing but a faint scent of smoke and cinder. Much to her relief, Dean and Seamus sat with them. Ginny had not joined, out of respect for Dean perhaps, but leaned against the wall behind him, listening intensely.
"... McGonagall said we shouldn't draw any premature conclusions", Seamus just told them in a low voice. Hermione noticed his hands to be folded in his lap, as if one part of him trying to calm the other. Only from a few steps afar, she recognized a slightly worried expression.
" - they might not be linked at all."
"Ah, come on", Ron waved away his caution, "She wants us to focus in exams, that's all."
"Instead of what?", Hermione asked.
Heads turned. Ron was not quick enough to hide his face lightening up considerably.
"Finding out what happened to Judy and that Slytherin boy, what was his name?"
"Atticus", Ginny threw in. "He's in my year. Bit of a sucker, but neither dumb nor disagreeable."
"Judy?", she cast a quick glance at Seamus, "what happened?"
"You've been in the library all day, haven't you?", Dean replied, eyebrows raised. He missed the worried look on Ginnys face. "Seamus just came back from the hospital wing. Apparently she never made it back to her dormitory on Tuesday, but she was not allowed any visitors until today."
"Er – she alright now?", Hermione wrought out, focused on Seamus.
"She'll be allowed to leave tomorrow, 'cause Madam Pomfrey says she's probably just had way too much sun. Seized on the pitch, see."
"Oh." The warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach suffered a punch. "I am sorry."
"What for? You couldn't have done anything. It's happened to her before, during the holidays, when she was at a pool with her friends. Non-magic folk", Seamus correctly anticipated her question. "She was not bewitched or poisoned or anything. But Poppy insisted on keeping her for observation, in case she had taken any substances – to enhance her preparations for OWLs, I guess."
Considering the rubbish she had confiscated and destroyed, the assumption did not sound too far-fetched to be credible. "I'm glad she'll be ok."
"Yeah, me too", he sighed, followed by a slow, deep breath. "S'ppose Atticus case won't be solved just as easily."
"Do we know him?", Hermione looked at Ron and Harry, who both shook their heads.
"I do", Ginny voiced, "We don't have many classes together, but I've been asked several times whether he's some distant relative to us. Red hair and freckles."
"And is he?", she wondered. A blurred memory rose in her mind, accompanied by the scent of books and fresh ink.
"Perhaps from mum's side, I haven't met many from the Prewett branch", she shrugged. "Most of them were dead already when I was born."
"So what happened?"
"They brought him in when I was leaving", Seamus informed her. "Suffered a beating, it looked like. A serious one", he added, "hardly conscious, blood all over his shirt, and his leg certainly had no second knee when he got up this morning. I'm not sure whether he could have opened both eyes if he wanted to, cheekbones bruised, and one eyebrow swollen like from a stinging charm. They put him in the bed two curtains from Lucy, where he soon started moaning all over the place, until Poppy came around with sufficient pain killers."
"Any idea who did this?"
"No", Seamus shook his head, "But I did not stay, 'cause when Snape had woken him up -", she was grateful none of them saw the creature inside her rise, roar and scratch her insides. " - Umbridge came along. Furious. Said she expected him to report anyone linked to this incident, may they be Slytherins or not."
"Umbridge usually does not show up in the infirmary, does she?", Hermione wondered. "Since when does she care about anyone getting hurt -"
"He's a Squad member", Ginny added, frowning. "Or trying to become one. That's what concerns me. Ever since Dumbledore left the school, any attacks – or harmful incidents – were suffered by students belonging to any other house than Slytherin."
When she realized her need for a few minutes to process that, she pointed to the cricket beneath Ron. "Geminreo", then let herself drop onto the twin stool next to him.
"Tell me we don't have to be able to perform this in our exams", he half-begged, half-admired her.
"I doubt it, that's a doubling charm, a subcategory ...", she omitted a wider elaboration, for it would only add unnecessary confusion to his state of mind, " - well, we won't do Conjuring with McGonagall before NEWTs classes, so don't worry."
"Ah. Good." He looked honestly relieved.
"Hell, I'll celebrate when this year's over, believe me", Dean sighed. "Would be a miracle if we all made it out unharmed."
"I never thought Slytherins would be a target, too", Harry said slowly, "Umbridge won't take kindly to this. Next few weeks will be a living nightmare."
"On the plus side", Ginny replied, "She'll be gone next year. The job is cursed, everybody says so."
The cotton cover of her cricket ripped open, revealing cheap and scratchy lining. Hermione felt an urgent need to stir the conversation from this direction. "Speaking of nightmares", she said, lowering her voice, casting a sharp look at Harry, "If we're subject to questioning about illicit activities, related to Atticus case or not, you should be fine, shouldn't you? Practicing Occlumency on your own?"
He must have seen through her tactic, but it worked nonetheless. "S'ppose we won't solve this mystery tonight, will we?", Harry sighed ostentatiously, "Guess I can squeeze in two rounds of rehearsing Sprouts carnivorous algae classification?"
"Seriously, mate, it's almost eleven -"
"Come on, Ron, you've done this on Monday, when I was busy -", his body faced Ron, but Hermione saw him lurk over the glasses over his friends's shoulder, into her direction, " - with repetition for potions."
She managed to keep an even, blank, slightly worried expression. A little unyielding, but otherwise unrevealing.
"Snape's been as much a git as ever in the previous weeks, don't you think?", but before she could answer, Ron, completely oblivious to their exchange, took it out of his hand. "Yeah, 'course, what did you expect", he answered and rose, hiding her face from Harrys sight. When Ron reached out to grab his knapsack, the cloth on her seat ripped open further, so she could pretend to busy herself with mending it magically. She mused to have missed something, since when she lowered herself back on the neatly sewn cover again, Seamus and Dean had left as well. Instead, Ginny kept mustering her from one of their armchairs. "I wanted to talk to you."
"Sure." She simple saw no way to get out of this without provoking her friend to further inquiry.
"Remember the day the Squad burned down the pitch?"
"Yeah. Bloody mess, huh? Hope they will manage to restore it in -"
"We were talking when we saw it, but I still would like to hear you out."
"Er – what were we talking about?"
Ginny ignored her pretense. "Snape", she said. Tilting her head, as if Hermione looked different from another angle. Half a dozen seats were empty around them, and nobody headed toward their corner. "You said he did not use you. That you had changed your mind about him lately."
"Ah." The creature inside her had started slicing her insides again. "It's – complicated."
"How?"
"I've - … with everything going on at Hogwarts - - I just … we're not -", Hermione struggled for words, " - like I said, he hasn't used me", she repeated, abandoning the attempt to force her feelings into rational forms.
Ginny kept silent for a moment. "I've never seen you like this before."
"Like what?"
"Irrational. Almost confused. Like your feelings were in charge, rather than your mind."
"My feelings do belong to my mind, don't they?", Hermione replied patiently, painfully aware that this was something Snape might have told her as well.
"That's not what I meant, as you very well know."
"Then what did you mean?" A subdued crack came from a leg of the stool under Hermione.
"Next to you, I suck at magic, I've got no more than ordinary talent. Don't be so modest", she dismissed Hermiones denying expression, "Your mind – your rationality has always been prominent, I've never understood why the Sorting Hat did not place you in Ravenclaw."
"I'm glad he did not."
"So when I hear that your emotions take hold of you, I start to get worried."
"Happens to everyone, once in a while", Hermione said evasively, and Ginny picked up on her message.
"It's fine if you don't want to talk", she said warmly, leaned forward and lowered her voice. "I just want you to know, falling in love with someone is a serious issue. Like any kind of powerful magic."
A picture of Dean rose in her mind, singing and dancing in the common room before things spiraled out of control. She thought of him in the infirmary, and Snape telling them he had overdosed, and their evening at the library, explaining to her the toxic character of both love and truth – she would always remember the scent of his perfume, delicately applied, just distinct enough to be perceived from inches in front of him -
"Are you listening to me?"
"No", she Hermione answered, "But love being wonderful and intense – serious and all, I've got exams coming, and I don't need distractions right now." Another crack from beneath her.
"Sometimes we don't get to choose what commands our attention", Ginny replied, "Or our heart. Or, in your case, our mind."
She did not wish to argue over the man who had sneaked into her mind, tiptoed around her heart, and, perhaps, blurred her perception. "I'll keep it -", but the stool crashing prevented her from completing the sentence.
"You just conjured that, didn't you?", Ginny asked, half-amused.
"Yeah", Hermione said, "but the spells not suitable for complex objects. Defining complex as consistent of rather large – or -"
"The castle probably does not permit students to mess with its interior", Ginny mused. "Let's leave it like this, and when it's cracked down to dust by tomorrow, we'll know not to use this charm on furniture again."
"Ok." She was not entirely convinced, but seized the opportunity to escape the conversation. Since Ron and Harry had left, she decided to call it an early night, careful to cast a mutening charm around her bed.
Not that she needed it this time.
Ginny's exaggerating, she told herself repeatedly. Talking about love.
Ridiculous.
The warmth in her stomach stayed, and the strange, vague creature purring insider her could be soothed with memories of her conversations with Snape in the library, or imagining them walking the grounds in blazing sunshine. She just wished the picture to include someone else hugging her intensely than the broad-shouldered, literally cloaked man, of whom she feared that his loyalties might, indeed, not lie with Dumbledore, the Order – or her.
Completely dressed, she slid into a direly needed, deep and dreamless sleep.