On Teenagers & Love
a story by anamatics
part three - the fog
Chapter Seven - On Partings & Potions
Mrs. Weasley does not voice a protest when she sees the ring on Fleur's finger, but she does pull Hermione aside as they're getting ready to step onto Platform 9 ¾. "Hermione, dear. I really do think you're too young for such things, but if that is what you want, I'm happy for you," she says and pulls Hermione into a tight hug.
Somehow, the fact that she's earned Mrs. Weasley's somewhat-tacit approval is enough to make Hermione's heart soar.
The dark circles under Fleur's eyes that morning had been enough to cause Hermione to add another spoonful of ground coffee to the press and glare sourly at it while she had watched it brew. They'd been up half the night, fingers tangled together, bodies rocking against each other. Hermione is glad that they're going back to school on a Sunday this year, because it means that they won't be rushed and Fleur won't be late to work to see her off.
"Someday soon," Fleur had said as Hermione watched the coffee brew before they prepared to floo over to the Burrow (Hermione had to collect Crookshanks and make sure that she'd gotten everything of her's out of Ginny and Ron's bedrooms), "You 'ave to meet mes parents."
"I have though," Hermione had replied, a little put-out that Fleur didn't remember. Though she supposes that they'd all had other things on their mind that day. "After the Third Task, I was in the hospital wing with them." It was strange though, it all seemed as though it had happened so long ago now. But she was sure that she'd introduced herself to Fleur's parents and had been polite enough. She'd chewed nervously on her lip as Fleur just laughed and shook her head.
"I 'ad meant, meet zem properly," Fleur had waved a hand dismissively then, ring glinting on her finger in the weak, early-morning sunlight. "Zey know of you, oui, mais..." Fleur had shaken her head again, hair tumbling over her shoulders and out from where she'd tucked it behind her ears. "Zey know you as 'ermione, a friend from 'ogwarts. Not 'ermione, ze one I made a promise to."
Hermione hadn't thought of it that way, and it weighted heavily on her mind for the rest of the morning. She'd spent it rooting under Ginny and Ron's beds, finding several books, a pair of shoes she'd forgotten about and her favorite t-shirt of Fleur's that she hadn't realized she'd left there and wondering, not for the first time, if there was an easier way to pack for school. Mrs. Weasley had put Fleur in charge of making sandwiches (roast beef and homemade cheese on dry rye bread that Hermione and Ginny had prepared the dough for the two days before) for the train.
Crookshanks had grown used to his summer as a mouser for the Weasleys. He had taken one look at his carrying basket and bolted in the opposite direction. The ensuing adventure to collect him and subsequent 'accio Crookshanks' from Mr. Weasley had them laughing all the way to King's Cross Station. Crookshanks had not been amused.
He still isn't, sitting in his carrying basket atop Hermione's charmed feather-light trunk. He's hissing and spitting and looking very much like the kneazel that he's mixed with and not at all like a cat. Hermione watches as Ginny leans in and then jumps away as Crookshanks' claws come dangerously close to taking out her eye.
Mrs. Weasley's hug is tight and loving and Hermione can see her own parents just over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder and she feels a surge of anxiety at the sight of them. Just up the platform, she can see the Parkinsons and the Notts and she hopes to God that they don't say or do anything. She doesn't think she can explain it all to her parents before they have to get on the train.
She smiles and thanks Mrs. Weasley and heads over to speak to her parents. They've got two wrapped packages with them and Hermione eyes them suspiciously as she draws level with them. "Hello," she says, just a little breathlessly. She's spent so little time at home over this past summer that she honestly feels as though she's somehow missed them. They're just passing people in her life now, not at all like the parents that they were during her childhood.
Her mother hugs her and her father smiles cheerfully. "We bought your birthday present," her mother explains.
"Didn't think it was fair to ask an owl to carry it all the way to school," her father adds. He sets the packages next to the still-hissing Crookshanks and pulls her into a hug of his own. "You can open it on the train, if you'd like. There's a card - don't want to ruin the surprise."
Hermione nods and then Fleur's come up to them with a book in her hands. Hermione's mother's eyes narrow as she catches sight of the ring on Fleur's finger and Hermione gives the smallest of shrugs, stepping back and gratefully welcoming Fleur into their little circle of conversation. "I 'ad wanted to give you zis," Fleur explains, offering the book to Hermione's father. "I know zat it is not much, but zis is ze book zat my grandmozer recommended for you boz." Hermione peers at the cover with a grin. Fleur had brought it home from work a few days before, all smiles and completely convinced that she had found the perfect way to ingratiate herself with Hermione's parents.
"This is a book about what... you are?" Her father says with all the tact of Harry or Ron. Hermione groans quietly and debates the merits of spotting a group of errant humdingers to drive her parents away from Fleur. Luna, she thinks, would at least be somewhat willing to help her story along.
Fleur, to her credit, doesn't seem that put out by his comment. "My grandmozer, you mean. I am only a quarter. I cannot do many of ze zings..." she trails off and takes the book back. There are a few of Hermione's favorite sticky flags poking out of the book, marking pages, she assumes. "I 'ave marked ze chapters zat are of interest."
"Oh excellent," Hermione's mother announces and pulls Fleur into a hug. "Really, I can't thank you enough for being so willing to help us with our ignorance, Fleur. I know it must be really taxing."
Behind her, Hermione is nearly certain that Ginny (and maybe Ron and Harry as well) is sniggering. Tossers.
Still trapped in the hug, Fleur shrugs and looks, by Hermione's estimation, like she wants to crawl away somewhere to die of mortification. Hermione might very well join her.
They say their goodbyes to Hermione's parents and Hermione waits until they've left the platform all together before she turns to Fleur and hugs her as tightly as she dares. There are people all around them now, crushing forward to get to the train as the hour ticks down closer to the inevitable departure.
"I don't want to go," she whispers again. It should be easier to do this for a second time, but it's not. Hermione knows she's got a flare for the dramatic at times, but she's finding it really hard not to cry. Fleur's wiping away her tears and smiling sadly at her. The dark circles under both their eyes are only going to get worse and Hermione cannot imagine another year of this, let alone two.
The train whistle blows its warning call and Hermione kisses Fleur just once. It's the brief sort of kiss that she thinks she can get away with in public. She's been raised in a world that doesn't really accept people like herself, but no one on the platform pays them much mind at all. Fleur is soft and warm against the cool air on the platform.
"I will write," Hermione promises, and Fleur nods. "I don't know if..." she trails off and casts a nervous look towards where Ron and Harry and shoving her trunk onto the train. "Hogsmeade visits are going to be the same this year with everything that's happening."
Fleur bites her lip and nods solemnly. "It would seem zat we cannot know," she presses her lips to Hermione's forehead. She says something then, her lips pressed against Hermione's forehead. It's in no language that Hermione's ever heard before, and Fleur doesn't tell her what it means with her usual self-conscious smile afterwards. Hermione wonders if it's a veela way of saying goodbye that she simply hasn't read about, but the train whistle shrills one more time and Hermione throws her arms around Fleur's shoulders.
"I'll see you soon, I promise," she says, and dashes for the train.
She asks Ginny to keep an eye on Crookshanks and drags Ron to the front of the train, her heart heavy against her chest. She doesn't want do to go a prefect's meeting, she doesn't really want to do much of anything but sit and mope about until she can pull herself together enough to realize that Dumbledore is at Hogwarts, which should equate to some sort of protection extended to the village as well. She'll see Fleur soon and it will all be okay.
There are new faces and old in the meeting, Pansy Parkinson turns her nose up and folds her arms across her chest as Hermione awkwardly sits down next to her for lack of anywhere else to sit. Ron is eyeing them both and their assignments are handed out. They're to patrol the school with their old pairs - and the fifth year prefects can be assigned partners. Hermione eyes Pansy and sighs. This is going to be a long year.
The new lessons are absolutely fascinating, full of new expectations and a slate of coursework far more challenging than Hermione's had to handle in school as of yet. Hermione wakes up after an anxious night of tossing and turning in her bed feeling absolutely sure that she knows which classes she is going to take. Padma and Lavender are up half the night discussing which N.E.W.T.s they'd like to take and Pansy Parkinson had flat-out demanded to know if Hermione was going to continue Arithmancy during their patrol.
"I want to know how big the class is going to be," Pansy had explained, folding her arms across her chest and scowling at the wall some three feet from Hermione.
"I will be," Hermione says with a far-from-polite smile, and then Pansy informs her that she had received an Outstanding on the exam as well (she hadn't bothered to ask what Hermione had gotten) and that she hoped Hermione's muggle heritage would allow her to keep up with the more advanced proofs.
Hermione had replied, perhaps a little more snippily than she'd intended, that if Pansy pulled her nose out of Witch Weekly for more than a minute she'd maybe give Ernie MacMillian a run for his money. Pansy had looked scandalized, as Ernie is pants at Arithmancy. They'd finished their patrol in stony silence and Hermione had turned her nose up to Pansy before they'd left each other in the middle of the third floor that was the end of their patrol.
Professor McGonagall doesn't ask Hermione what classes she's taking, but rather which ones she's dropping. Hermione tells her that she plans on dropping Astronomy, History of Magic and Care of Magical Creatures and Professor McGonagall nods. "Have you given any more thought to your post-N.E.W.T. studies," she asks as she taps her wand to a blank parchment and hands Hermione her schedule.
Hermione shakes her head, because she hasn't thought of much other than the war and what on earth she's going to do if her parents won't listen to her when she tells them to get out of England. "I haven't," she explains, taking her schedule and hurrying off to her first period Ancient Runes class.
Out of all her classes, Hermione finds that she is desperately curious to see what Professor Snape is like, teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. She thinks it's a rather shrewd move of Dumbledore to make, because Snape is obviously the best available save Dumbledore himself to actually instruct the class. Harry's told her bits and pieces of things that Sirius and Professor Lupin have mentioned to him about Snape's prowess with the Dark Arts themselves. She thinks it only stands to reason that Snape would be skilled at Defense as well.
Wordless incantations are now expected in all of their classes and Hermione finds herself facing up against Neville and a series of muttered stunning spells while she attempts to cast protego. Snape has explained the lesson and expects the class to be conducted in silence that would make sense for Potions, but seems out of place for Defense. Neville isn't actually casting the stunners silently, and while Hermione manages to actually produce a silent shield charm, it goes without notice.
Harry's mouth gets him a detention with Snape that is quickly canceled out by a note from Dumbledore that she, Ron and Harry all spend their lunch period debating. Dumbledore has said that he's going to teach Harry lessons, and Hermione desperately wishes that she could go with him to hear what it is that Dumbledore has to say. Harry's already told them that Dumbledore wants both Ron and herself to know about what is said and taught during these meetings, but she really would rather get her information first hand, rather than second hand. Harry tends to… fixate on things that turn out to be inconsequential in the long run. They all remember the Snape-is-Voldemort incident from the entirety of First Year.
Still, after their shared free period that afternoon, Hermione is pleased when Ron and Harry follow her down to the dungeons for Potions. Apparently Professor Slughorn has less stringent standards than Professor Snape does when it comes to his N.E.W.T.-level students and their E's are considered decent enough grades to get in. Ron's already owled his mum for Fred and George's old copy of Advanced Potions Making, but Harry's without a book for the time being. Hermione hopes that Slughorn is friendlier about under-preparedness than Snape is. She's not sure Harry needs any more detentions.
She has to stifle a groan when she sees that Ernie MacMillian has achieved the necessary marks to progress in Potions. He's really not her favorite person and after Arithmancy earlier, she wishes that she didn't have to see him again for a while. (She and Pansy had exchanged eye rolls when he asked Professor Vector to go over a fourth-year equation for review.)
Professor Slughorn has potions set up on each of the long work tables, Hermione follows Harry and Ron to sit with Ernie MacMillian (much to her dismay) as the Slytherins and Ravenclaws have all sat together. She recognizes some of the potions, the one on the table in front of Harry smells like expensive French perfume, old books, coffee and just the barest hint of the cellar smell that she's come to associate with the vault space of Gringtotts – all smells that she's come to associate very strongly with Fleur. This has to be a love potion of some sort, and, judging by the way that Harry's wrinkling his nose, he has absolutely no idea what he's smelling.
Hermione realizes later that she's been perhaps a bit too enthusiastic as she correctly identifies all of the potions that are brewing throughout the classroom. Harry and Ron (not to mention the Slytherins) are all giving her exasperated looks, but Professor Slughorn seems charmed as the class progresses. He awards her twenty points, and Hermione's slightly pink when Slughorn mentions to the class at large that Harry'd told him that she was the best in their year.
"What?" Ron demands in a whisper that earns them an alarmed glance from one of the Ravenclaws. "It's not like it isn't true."
Hermione can see the rigid line of Draco Malfoy's back grow even stiffer, ramrod straight and clearly seething. She struggles to hide a smile.
By the end of the class it is her back that is ramrod straight and her temper that is rising. She knows that Snape is a terrible teacher and that his poor teaching skills are what have driven this class down from its former size to a mere twelve people. This doesn't mean, however, that Harry should appear a bloody potions savant all of a sudden.
Ron's always been at least somewhat decent at Potions. With Harry it comes in waves: he either gets it and prepares the potion correctly, or he buggers the whole thing from the start. Usually his mistakes are because of environmental concerns, as his theory is pretty sound. Hermione knows that Harry's a decent cook and thinks that this skill might translate into some proficiency at potions.
But he's not even following the directions and his potion is utterly perfect! Hermione puffs out her cheeks in frustration as she stirs her potion. The steam is doing absolutely nothing for her hair and it's already frizzing every-which-way. She tries not to ground loudly as Harry trails his finger down the instructions – covered as they are in messy, spindly handwriting, and modifies his recipe accordingly.
When they're done brewing Slughorn gives Harry a bottle of felix felicis as his potion is clearly the best, and Hermione sighs. She supposes that she can't really blame anyone but herself for losing such a competition, even if harry wasn't even following the recipe in the first place.
Harry and Ron talk in excited whispers over dinner about the felix felicis and what Harry should do with it. When Hermione asks Harry why he wasn't following the instructions as they were listed in the book, Harry pulls out his text book and shows it to her excitedly. "There's loads of suggestions all over it," he explains, turning to the title page. They both lean in to read what has been scrawled there, 'this book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince' and Hermione finds herself backing away, a frown on her face.
"Haven't we learned that we shouldn't trust instructions from magical artifacts where we can't determine where they keep their brains?" Hermione asks mildly. When Harry and Ron scowl at her she adds, "As soon as your book comes from Flourish and Blotts you should return it to Professor Slughorn. It's a bad idea to keep it, I think."
"You're no fun," Ron grouses, and Hermione eats a piece of broccoli with her eyebrows raised, daring him to argue with her logic.
Harry and Ron ignore her for the rest of the meal. Hermione eats quickly and beats a hasty retreat to the library while it's still quiet. There are a few things she wants to look up before they have to start their work for the evening.
She finds the books on the cart where she left them the night before, five advanced charms books, all lined in a row. Madame Pince must have known that she wasn't done with them somehow. There are two on memory charms, three on charms for practical, everyday use. Hermione desperately hopes that she'll never have to use the first two.
She settles down in one of the overstuffed armchairs and pulls Charmed Everyday into her lap. The page she's looking for describes extension charms, usually used to accommodate guests into rooms that are too small to usually accommodate them. Hermione thinks she can modify the spell, but she's not entirely sure how to go about it. She pushes all thoughts of Harry and Slughorn and Potions class from her mind, and starts to read.
