The four of them disappeared into the Sixth Year boys' dormitory after a house elf appeared telling them that lunch would be served in the Common Room. They evicted Dean and Seamus from the dorm, refusing to answer any questions, before Harry and Hermione settled on his bed while Neville and Luna sat down on Neville's. Hermione, exhausted from her earlier excitation and still desperately in need of both comfort and reassurance, laid down on the bed before pulling Harry down behind her as she laid on her side. Though both were fully clothed, the configuration still caused Harry to blush. Hermione, however, was far beyond embarrassment and just wanted him close, and so he tentatively rested his hand on her side and the two of them spooned loosely together facing Neville and Luna.
"So what do you think will happen now?" Neville said, opening the conversation and thankfully neglecting to mention anything about how Harry and Hermione were currently arranged.
"I reckon that they'll be a, err, service, in a few days," Harry responded, not wanting to use the word 'funeral' in case it set Hermione off. "I didn't hear anything about plans, or when they intend to tell the rest of the school."
"Do they have any idea who might have done it?" Luna asked, still without the normal ethereal state that the other three had come to expect from her.
"None," Harry said bitterly, though he had a person he was very interested in talking with to find out if they had any information. "I remember Slughorn saying that he had meant to give the bottle of mead to Dumbledore at Christmas, but that's it." Harry wanted to say more, wanted to let the accusations lurking in his heart and mind spew into the room, but he didn't want to upset Hermione any more than she already was. There would be time later to see if he was right.
"I wonder if it's the same person that gave that cursed necklace to Katie Bell," Neville said, unwittingly introducing the very subject Harry had been keen to avoid. Yes, Harry suspected Malfoy of both cursing Katie and giving her the necklace that landed her in St. Mungo's, but he also knew Hermione had vehemently disagreed with most of his opinions about the little blond-haired ferret all year. His internal musings almost made him miss Neville's follow-up comment. "I mean, Leanne said that Katie meant it to be a surprise for someone in the castle, right? What if that person was Dumbledore?"
"And what if that same person somehow found out that Slughorn had meant to give that bottle to Dumbledore and poisoned it?" Luna followed. "Did Professor Slughorn mention where he had gotten the bottle?" Harry shook his head in the negative.
"What if neither one was meant for Dumbledore?" Hermione asked quietly, her still red and puffy eyes flicking back and forth as if an infinite number of possibilities were flying in front of her and she was trying to keep tabs on them. "I mean, Leanne only said the necklace was for someone in the castle. What if it was for Slughorn? And anyone who knows Slughorn would have realized that he's far too materialistic to give away a good bottle of liquor. They may have planned on him keeping it." Harry hadn't considered that possibility, though he considered the chances of it low all things being equal. Hermione was the deep thinker, though, often exploring layers down into a situation to try and posit the most likely solutions.
"I think Dumbledore is the more likely target," Harry offered gently. "I mean, I get that Slughorn is a master potioneer and that the Death Eaters have been trying to recruit him, but Dumbledore is a much greater threat."
"Maybe," was all Hermione answered with, suddenly no longer interested in the conversation. She took the hand Harry had on her hip and pulled it around her, letting it rest on her stomach, while at the same time snuggling her head down into the pillow and closing her eyes. Neville and Luna seemed to take this as their cue to step out.
"We're going to run downstairs and grab something to eat," Neville said as they both stood. "Can we bring you two anything?" Hermione just shook her head, her eyes still closed; Harry looked at his friend and, as before, Neville seemed to understand Harry's unspoken request, this time for Neville to make sure that no one came up and bothered them. He nodded solemnly before he and Luna exited the room.
Now alone, suddenly Harry had no idea what to do next. His actions since leaving the Hospital Wing had been driven mostly be instinct; aside from formulating his two new missions in life he hadn't had a plan for anything that had transpired in the last hour or so. And now, with just him and Hermione laying in his bed, he was completely clueless. Should he get up and let her sleep? Should he stay? Should he hold her tighter? Looser? Put his head on the pillow with hers? Should he move his hand? He was completely unprepared for how to make the transition from 'friend and protector' to 'provider of semi-intimate solace.' Though he felt the situations were vastly different, memories of his complete ineptitude with Cho sprang to mind, and he prayed that he wouldn't do anything stupid to screw up his friendship with Hermione. Her happiness was one of his missions, after all, not to mention that she was his best friend in the world.
Looking down at her, Harry decided that perhaps this wasn't as difficult as he was making it out to be. After all, he thought to himself, what do we do when we're not sure about an answer to something?
Ask Hermione, of course was the response in his head. "Hermione," he asked softly, whispering close to her ear. She shivered at his breath on her earlobe, and he quickly followed "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
Startle me? Hermione thought in her mind. Yes. Yes, that's what that shiver was. He startled me. Nothing more than that. "It's fine, Harry. What's up?"
"Umm," he began, "I, uhh, I want to make sure that I'm doing what you want me to do, but I have no worldly idea what that is. What can I do to make you more comfortable, to make you feel better? What do you need?"
His thoughtfulness touched her, and she couldn't help the small smile that he didn't see. She leaned herself a little tighter against him. "Just hold me, Harry. Just be here with me." She turned her head and opened her eyes to look up at him. Green eyes met brown as the two examined each other, perhaps more openly than at any point prior in the course of their friendship. "Harry, this is going to take both of us a long time to get over, and today won't be the last time I cry, I can guarantee that. What I need from you is to know that you're here, that when I'm not strong enough that I have your strength to lean on, and for you to know that the reverse is also true. I need you to not pretend to be strong or okay when you know you're not. I need to know that we can depend on each other through whatever comes next, and whatever comes after that. I need you to continue being the amazing man I've known since I was eleven. I meant it when I said we'd get through this together. You're stuck with me, Potter," she finished with a small smile. He smiled back at her, and before anything else could happen she turned her head back away and settled back down on the pillow. Harry felt her hand tighten down on his that was around her waist. "And now I need you to lay your head down on the pillow with me. Hold me, please."
Deciding that this was a request he was perfectly capable of, and not unglad to, fulfill, he settled his own head on the remaining portion of the pillow after using his other hand to move away the lion's share of her thick brown hair. He rested his head down, his mouth only an inch or so from her neck, and closed his eyes as he let himself relax. He felt her near, felt the movements of her body as she breathed, the scent of her soap on her skin. He felt her suffuse him and he pulled her as close as he felt comfortable with, wrapping her up with him. She, alternatively, felt his aura cocoon her like a warm blanket and she settled into a much more peaceful slumber than she expected, feeling safe and protected in the caring arms of the one dearest to her.
{-}
Harry woke later, he wasn't sure how much later, to Neville shaking his shoulder. "Harry, mate," he began, "It's getting close to dinnertime. McGonagall was just here and said everyone needed to head down to the Great Hall. I guess they want to make the announcement to the entire school." Nodding at Neville, the other boy departed while Harry turned toward the still sleeping Hermione.
"Hermione?" he whispered, again close to her ear. She didn't stir. "Hermione?" he said again, nudging her gently with his head since it was the only thing available at the moment; one hand lay trapped beneath him and the other was trapped by Hermione's own as it lay against her. "Wake up, Hermione, it's time for dinner."
"Don't wanna," came the soft reply from the face buried in his pillow. "Comfy. Safe." She pulled tighter on his arm around her and unconsciously snuggled back against him, pushing her back completely against his front and wiggling as if trying to get more comfortable.
"I know, Hermione, but McGonagall said that we all need to be down in the Great Hall," Harry responded, desperately trying to keep his 16-year-old hormones from reacting to her movements. Keep it together, Potter. This isn't about your stupid jollies. This is about Hermione. "Come on, you need to eat," he said finally, and more reluctantly than he expected he extricated himself from behind her, sitting on the edge of the bed facing away from her.
With a slight mewl of protest she turned over onto her back and then lifted herself up on her elbows as she pondered Harry, who was taking a couple of breaths to get control of his conflicting emotions. She noticed his deep breathing and was concerned. "Harry, are you alright?"
Trying to suppress his blush, he responded. "Yeah, I'm fine Hermione." Not quite believing him, she rolled and placed a hand on his upper back while scooting her head around his side to look up at him.
"Harry, you're not alright. I can always tell. What is it?" She started rubbing small circles onto his back. "Talk to me."
Harry heaved a great sigh, taking a moment to enjoy her hand on his back before turning his head to look down at her. "Really, Hermione, I'm fine. It's just . . ." he wasn't sure if he could say it without figuratively and/or literally dying of embarrassment, but his Gryffindor-ness, combined with his desire to be as honest with Hermione as possible, brought the words forth. ". . . it's just that, when you moved before it got . . . uncomfortable."
"Uncomfortable?" she asked, not quite sure what he meant by that, and not really liking the idea that she had distressed him.
"Blimey, Hermione," he puffed out. Screw it. Honesty is the best policy; she'll just keep dogging me until I tell her anyway he thought. "I'm a bloke, and you're a very pretty witch who was pressed tight up against me. I got uncomfortable. Get it?" He prayed she did; he didn't think he could bring himself to say the words 'aroused,' 'erect' or, Merlin forbid, 'horny' to Hermione. Either she would hex the offending anatomy into next week or all of the blood rushing to his face would make his head explode. Either way, it promised to not be pretty. Thankfully, she did in fact, understand; at least Harry surmised she did based on the slight pink color that was spreading across her cheeks.
"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry I didn't even think about that," she exclaimed, removing her hand from his back and immediately sitting up on his bed. "I wasn't even thinking about . . . getting a reaction from you . . . when I was asking you to lay down with me. I promise I'll try to be mindful to keep things more . . . platonic from now on."
"No!" Harry said before he could stop himself, and he was quite sure that his eyeballs and hair must have been turning red by now. He was already past the point of no return, though, so like a good Gryffindor kept charging forward. "No, that's okay Hermione. I just don't want to upset you, but I want to be whatever it is that you need me to be. I think . . . I think I needed that closeness too, and I think I am going to again. And, since I'm being about as honest as I think I can be, I really enjoyed having you close, and I don't want that to stop. But please don't yell at me if . . . if . . ." he screwed up his face, " . . . if certain parts of me rise to the occasion." He scrunched his eyes shut and grimaced, completely unbelieving that he had said something so stupid.
Hermione's soft chuckle did not help at all. "Harry, did you just use a euphemism for getting an erection?"
"Hermione!" Harry said, scandalized.
"What? Harry, it's a perfectly natural reaction. I'm not really embarrassed by it in and of itself, just by the fact that I caused it. Actually, I'm quite . . . quite flattered," she said, finally showing some actual red in her complexion as well. Serves you right Harry thought at seeing her also admit to at least a small level of embarrassment at the discussion. Hermione recovered much more quickly than he did, however, and she straightened her back and put on a serious face. "So I promise not to yell at you, hex you, or otherwise harm you if, while in the course of being a wonderful and supportive friend, you happen to pop wood."
Harry couldn't help it; he snorted and then burst out laughing at Hermione's final comment, said in such a prim and proper tone, and she joined in with him almost immediately. It was a simple thing, laughing, yet given what the day so far had held it was a glimmer of hope that the two of them would indeed get through this, that the days would not be dark forever, and that light and life would continue to flourish in the world.
{-}
The four of them entered a Great Hall that was almost full, and even if they were blind they would have been able to figure that out based on the amount of noise that the student body was generating. Luna was about to split off and head to the Ravenclaw table, but Neville's tug on her elbow combined with Hermione's arm around her shoulder had her staying the course to sit with the other three at the end of the Gryffindor table closest to the entry doors. Harry's quick scan of the rest of the table did not detect any redheads; apparently Ginny was still with her family wherever that was. He figured that they had probably left the castle by now. At the Head Table, Harry saw that Kingsley and Tonks were still in the building; they had taken chairs at the far left of the table. Every teacher and instructor, even Madam Hooch and Professor Trelawney, were also seated at the table.
As the quartet sat, Filch came in from the Entry Hall. This seemed to be Dumbledore's queue to stand and approach the podium at the middle of the front dais. The noise immediately dropped as the aged headmaster stepped forward. "Good evening, everyone. Before we begin tonight's meal, it is my sad duty to inform you of the loss of one of our own. Earlier today, Mr. Ronald Weasley passed away." Stunned faces and gasps of disbelief spread across the Hall, but Harry ignored them all and held Hermione's hand tightly as he saw new tears form in the corners of her eyes.
"What happened?" came a call from somewhere at the Hufflepuff table.
"I'm afraid that I cannot divulge the circumstances of Mr. Weasley's passing, as the events are still being investigated," Dumbledore responded, nodding his head slightly at the two Aurors seated at the table. "Sufficed to say we are taking steps to avoid any future tragic accidents from happening. I encourage you all to look after one another during this period of mourning, and know that all of the staff stand ready to assist you should you wish to speak to someone." Dumbledore stepped down from the podium as the volume in the room once again rose and food suddenly appeared on all the tables.
That's it!? That's all he's going to say!? Harry felt his blood pressure and his magic rise at both the Headmaster's words and his seeming dismissal of Ron and what had happened to him. The other three quickly turned to him as they felt the pressure build around them, and then others looked to Harry as they too realized that something very big was about to happen. Harry released Hermione's hand and stood, and though she and Neville both tried to get him to sit back down, his anger would not be tamed as he stared menacingly at the old wizard that had just left the podium, the same man who turned back as the renewed murmurs died immediately when the Hall saw Harry. "Accident?" Harry whispered, though his magic let his voice carry throughout the room so that all heard him. "An accident, Headmaster? Is that what you'd lead us to believe?"
"Mister Potter, please re-take your seat. As this is an active Auror investigation, any comments you might have should be made in private," Dumbledore said, seemingly trying to keep Harry from revealing any more about that morning's events than they were ready to reveal. Harry, however, would not be placated.
"It's not like Ron fell off his broom or slipped and hit his head in the shower," Harry said, completely ignoring Dumbledore's statement. "Those are accidents, Headmaster. Accidents are acts of God, unforeseeable events that conspire to cause us harm and misery. And, while I wholeheartedly admit that Ron's death has indeed caused those things, this was not an act of God, sir, but of man. The willful end of a life yet to be lived. This was –"
Dumbledore's wand was in his hand in an instant, a verbal "Silencio!" aimed at Harry in order to forestall Harry's continued comments. Albus Dumbledore, however, had discounted two very important facts.
The first was that he'd discounted just how furious Harry Potter really was. The second was that he had no idea just what the young man, and more importantly that young man's magic, was truly capable of.
Harry's magic, which most of the Hall could feel swirling around him in a dangerous maelstrom, absorbed the spell from one of the most powerful wizards alive, who was using the most powerful wand ever created, as if it were nothing.
"—murder!" Harry finished his statement, his angry glare at Dumbledore for attempting to silence him promising future retribution. "My best friend was murdered, Headmaster; call it was it was. Poisoned. In your school, more than likely by someone in this very room!" More gasps accompanied this comment, and Harry made sure that he took a brief glance over at the Slytherin table, or more particularly at a certain blond-haired boy, whose knowing smirk at the statement that Ron had been poisoned upgraded his status in Harry's mind from 'thorn in the side' to 'dead man walking.' Later he said to himself. "Two years ago, you stood in that very spot and told those gathered here about the death of Cedric Diggory. Do you remember your words then, Professor? You spoke of what a fine person he was, about how he should have been here with us. About how much he exemplified all of the best traits of his house. And you told us the truth then, sir. You told us that Cedric had been murdered by Voldemort. You chose to be honest with us then, and while many who were here that day probably weren't ready or willing to accept the reality that you were explaining to us, we all appreciated that you had the fortitude to tell us the truth anyway.
"So what does it say now, Headmaster, that you willingly keep the truth from us, or hide it behind half-statements and verbal walls? Why is Ron's death worth so much less than Cedric's? Where are your comments about Ron's virtues? Your sorrow that he is not here beside Hermione and I like he should be? Where is your toast to the fallen, for indeed Ron is as much a victim of this war as if he'd been laid low by a Killing Curse? Where is your steadfast adherence to doing what is right regardless of the consequences? What are you trying to hide from us, Professor? Is it because revealing the truth about Ron's death does not advance your agenda?" The entire room gasped at the accusation, and Dumbledore's eyes narrowed for a second before returning to their standard appraising countenance.
"That is quite enough Mr. Potter. I understand that Mr. Weasley's death has affected you greatly, and as such I am prepared to grant you significant leeway in your words and actions, but I caution you to remember who you are speaking to."
Harry nodded his head slowly, as if mulling Dumbledore's words or pondering the consequences. Nothing could be further from the truth; the only things on Harry's mind were how far he was willing to push Dumbledore and that he had to be careful to stay out of too much trouble for Hermione's sake. But he couldn't let what had become the status quo stand any longer. Finally, he responded to the older wizard. "I know exactly who I am speaking to. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Order of Merlin, First Class. Headmaster of Hogwarts. Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. A man with infinite forgiveness in his heart, and seemingly endless tolerance for those who have done or would do others harm in the vain hope that they see the error of their ways and repent.
"I may only be sixteen, Headmaster, but I am aware of at least one immutable fact which has been reinforced upon me today. Evil must be met with nothing short of our everything. Those who seek to do evil must understand that the threat of retribution goes beyond mere words. We, those who seek to live in the light, must be willing to strike at the dark with all that we have and all that we are. Anything less is an insult to those who have been lost, and all those that gave their last full measure in service to all that which is right and just and good. You besmirch Ron's name, Professor, if for even one second you know or suspect something and fail to take action against those that killed him. Kingsley, Tonks," Harry said, turning toward the two Aurors, "if the guilty party is indeed in this room right now, the Headmaster had better pray that you find them before I do. Because I will not allow evil to continue unpunished. Not any longer."
Harry looked down at Hermione and their gazes locked for only a second. She had tears in her eyes, but he could also see a fiery determination there as well as something more. He somehow knew that she hated that he was having to do this, but at the same time both knew that he had to and was proud that he was making his stand. He lifted his eyes and scanned the room before speaking softly once again. "You all wanted a savior. You all asked for someone to save you from Voldemort and all those who stand with him. You asked for someone to be the tip of the spear, a dragon whose roar would strike fear into the hearts of the wicked, whose fire would burn away the darkness and leave our land cleansed of evil. And you all, whether intentionally or not, whether it was right or not, turned to me to fill that role. Asked me to be those things." Harry turned away from the table and headed toward the doors. As he reached them, he turned back and took in the faces of everyone in the room. Some looked at him in awe, some in fear. More than a few looked at him as if he were crazy. At that moment, Harry really didn't care.
"I accept."
With that, the doors to the Great Hall swung open and Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived, left the entirety of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry speechless.