Falling Arrangements

By the time Hermione woke the next morning, she was the only one left in the girl's dormitory.

It wasn't that she was typically a late sleeper. That honor belonged to Lavender: She was the night owl who wasn't to be awoken on the weekends until the house elves were clearing the lunch dishes.

But Hermione rolled over on her side, her fingers pulling the curtains open a little wider. Lavender's bed looked as though it hadn't been slept on at all. Odd—that's very odd—perhaps she didn't come in last night.

Hermione had always wondered, in the back of her mind, just how far Ron and Lavender had gone in their relationship. She never asked because she would always mutter a simple "I don't need to know" and then change the subject to other things. She didn't want to know because she didn't want to feel like Ron was comparing her to Lavender. She didn't want to feel like she was the second choice, the second best—

But Lavender's bed was empty. And if there was anything Lavender Brown valued more than Ron, it was sleep.

Hermione quickly turned to her other side and again, flickered her fingers through the curtains. Parvati had also vacated her bed but it looked as though it had been slept in. The sheets pulled up to the pillow, the top blanket haphazardly thrown atop, crooked. Hastily put together.

Hermione tried not to think of it as she crawled out of bed, reaching for a hair tie and pulling back her morning mane. It was a Sunday in the castle. And looking out the window, it looked as though it was going to be one of those quite, calm, April Sundays. She'd spend the day going through her week's work—which consisted primarily of going through Harry and Ron's essays—and spend the rest of the afternoon down by the lake, flipping through her journal and trying to decide what she would do when the semester ended.

Maybe you need to think of the possibility Ron won't want to come on the search for Horcruxes, her inner demon murmured within her. Maybe his continuing relationship with Lavender will mean he'll feel like he should stay and protect her—

No, she insisted adamantly, dismissing the thought with all she could muster. Ron may be an idiot, but he was Harry's friend first. And he wouldn't—he couldn't—the hell with their relationship, he was a loyal friend. He wouldn't abandon them now. No matter how enamored he was wither.

I don't need to know…

She started listing things she did know. She knew she was overreacting. She knew that she was creating something out of nothing. She knew she was important. She knew Harry was going to get Slughorn's memory. She knew how she felt about Fred. And she knew in a month's time they'd be together.

She didn't know where they'd be, but she did know they'd be together.

If Fred had it his way, she'd get off the train and return with him to Diagon Alley. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. It would mean she'd have to be on her guard—probably working in the back more than the front of the store to avoid any prying eyes or conversations. She couldn't let him be pulled in for questioning when she was discovered missing at the start of term.

Besides, there was another reason as to why Hermione didn't want to be seen as a fixture to the Shop. She was convinced when—not if, but when—Molly Weasley found out she was staying with the twins, the Weasley matriarch would bring the Burrow down on her head quicker than the Erumpent horn at the Lovegoods. No, you'll go back to Essex as planned. You have to get the house ready.

She didn't want to think of what those few weeks with Fred could be like. Living with him above the shop. She wasn't the picture of domesticity, but she could imagine cooking a meal together. Spending the night in his workshop drinking butterbeer as he brainstormed and she tinkered with the radio. She could already hear George in her head with his sarcastic remarks about the two of them with Lee Jordan coming in the evenings. Or they'd go out into London. The two of them. Hand in hand, enjoying a perfect summer night together.

Grabbing her school bag and a few books from the top of her trunk, she headed down the stairs to the Common Room, mentally trying to prioritize her day. She had to find Harry and Ron and collect their essays at some point today—and it would probably do her some good to study outside, enjoy the weather, or at the very least a pleasant distraction.

As she reached the final steps she saw Harry sitting in the chair directly in front of her who, upon seeing it was her coming down the stairs, seemed to fly from it as though he had been launched by a powerful spring.

"We need to talk," Harry said quickly, nodding his head to the portrait hole, his hand on her back as though he was trying to gently navigate her, "Care for a walk?"

"I'd rather care for some breakfast but something's telling me that's not going to happen, is it?" Hermione asked surprised. He gave a weak smile and Hermione felt her stomach squirm. Harry looked uncomfortable, which wasn't reassuring in the slightest.

She followed him to the fifth floor Charms wing, trying albeit unsuccessfully to carry on some level of small talk. When they finally stopped in front of an empty class room she stood, folding her arms and looking at the empty room turned to Harry. "You look like the Death Eaters are about to swoop down on us, what the hell is going on?"

"Come on, let's go inside," Harry started, he said opening the door and peaking in to make sure they were alone.

"What's going on Harry?" she asked, trying to hide her annoyance, "If this is so secretive, why didn't we have this chat in your dormitory?"

"Well, they're not Death Eaters—but someone's about to swoop down on us and I'd suggest we go in the classroom so they don't," he said with finality, holding the door open, "Room—come in—now."

"Don't need to get snippy," she sighed, rolling her eyes. She made her way to one of the open desks, bathed in the sunlight streaming from the morning sun. Hands folded in front of her, she looked up at Harry as though he was a Professor, tilted her head and asked, "Now what is it?"

"Have you seen Lavender this morning?" Harry asked, sitting on a desk opposite of her. The way he asked it, she knew he was aware of the answer before she gave it.

"No, she and Parvati were already up and out by the time I got up," Hermione answered, "Why? Are they my Death Eaters?"

"Trust me, you'll wish you had Bellatrix—"Harry said before he cast a silencing charm on the door and locked it tight.

She stood up in her chair, starting to get nervous. "Harry, what's going on?"

"They broke up" Harry blurted out. "Last night, Ron and Lavender broke up" he added like a necessary afterthought. "I left Gryffindor tower and they were a couple, I came back and he's waiting for me in the dormitory telling me she's ended it."

It was Hermione's turn to sit in silence. She hadn't been expecting this. She was expecting them to stick together. She was expecting Ron to abandon them next fall when the Horcrux whispered he should be with Lavender. Hadn't she just woke up thinking perhaps the two of them had a rendezvous last night? How had she gone from that thought to this realization in less than an hour?

"She ended it with him?" Hermione said, pausing for another moment, the room closing in on her "Why? What happened?"

"Apparently," Harry sighed, ruffling his hair uncomfortably, "You did."

Her fingers startled to tingle on top of each other. The room suddenly had the steadiness of a boat on a choppy sea. Her voice was stronger than she thought it'd be when she turned to him.

"What?"

"What happened at Hogsmeade yesterday Hermione?" Harry asked quietly, as though he was trying to be as delicate as possible. "Ron told me that you held his hand and Lavender saw it—"

"Percy was there! That's all—"Hermione started, "I knew how Ron would get with Percy bumbling around as though he owned the operation. He paid 10 Galleons to take that test so—" So I did what I had done so many times before. I took his hand. I was his anchor. I kept him going. " So, I took his hand, it was a reflex I swear—figured he wouldn't get a refund if he was banned from the test for punching out a prat of a ministry official."

"That's more or less what Ron told me. He told Lavender you were just wishing him luck—"

"Bleeding Hippogriffs—did he really?" Hermione interrupted, a quiet rage bubbling vile within her, "Their relationship is based on her going to wish him Good Luck at Quidditich tryouts, how thick can he get—?"

"Apparently pretty thick because he told Lavender and if you had asked him he thought they were good. He was annoyed she was freaking out before their test—he blames her for the eyebrow bit—apparently she had said something about holding hands and raising eyebrows"

"Of course he blames her, Ron hasn't taken responsibility for anything since—" Hermione said flustered.

"Overall," Harry interrupted, "Ron thought that they were good. Until last night—"

"What did she think happened last night?" she asked, dreading the answer. This time she didn't know what it would be, but she had a sickening feeling she did.

Harry swung his legs off the desk and moved into the one closest to Hermione. "Romilda Vane has been coming on a little strong the last few days—I may have put on the invisibility cloak when I left last night—"

"So what's the big—" and before she could finish her sentence everything seemed to click. Harry had left a few minutes before her and Ron; They had been joking. It was perhaps the friendliest they been towards each other since the infamous snog session last fall.

And Lavender had felt threatened by that.

"That made Lavender break up with Ron? The two of us coming down the stairs together?" Hermione questioned.

"In a way—she saw you and Ron chatting as you came down from the boy's dormitory—"

"And she hadn't seen you—"Hermione's insides started to curl. "So she thought—she thought we were up in the dormitory alone—"

"And apparently you looked chummy. More chummy than Lavender would have liked. To his credit, Ron hasn't brought her up there before so she probably thought—"

"Shite," she swore, the walls closing in. "I remember she whisked him away when we came down. I didn't think anything of it. I just grabbed my stuff and headed upstairs for bed."

"What Ron told me," Harry explained said evenly, "Is she took him to an empty classroom and ran him through the ringer, telling him she knew he was cheating on her with you and that she refused to be second fiddle to Hermione Granger. Ron told her she was barking—"

Hermione's hand pressed against her temple, "Never a good thing to tell a woman in her moment of wrath—"

"Oh it gets better," Harry smiled mischievously, "You'll like this bit. He tells her that if he was cheating on her with Hermione, you'd be smart enough to be sneaky at it—"

"No" she answered, a devious smile pulling at her lips, "He didn't say that—did he?"

"It gets better," he said again lightheartedly "And he told her that regardless, Hermione Granger had been around long before Lavender Brown and if she kept on accusing him of cheating on her, Hermione Granger would be around long after Lavender Brown as well."

"No!" Hermione said incredulously. It was her turn to pace, which she started to immediately. This shouldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening. She was thinking as though a mantra, one that if she repeated enough would fix what Ron and Lavender had done.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," she said aloud, and then the room started to spin a little more. "None of this was supposed to happen, but this—this," she waved her wand in the general direction of Gryffindor Common Room, "This really shouldn't have—how does he get off—what was he thinking—well he's Ronald, so thinking isn't his forte but—"

Harry rose from his chair and took her shoulders, "Calm down Hermione,"

"Calm down? You want me to calm down?" she continued, shaking loose of Harry's hands. "Lavender Brown thinks I'm the tart that's stolen her boyfriend and is probably telling that to anyone who will give her the time of day—what did she say after he said that?"

"More or less that he was a bastard and you were a tart," Harry answered quietly, "Hermione, I'm sorry for all this—but I wanted to tell you before the school started interrogating you—"

Like when they were in her fourth year and people wanted to know how the Gryffindor Know-it-All had bewitched Victor Krum into loving her while breaking the heart of the Boy-Who-Lived. When she was getting hate mail that turned her fingers in to pus marked hexes and left her wrapped like a mummy. It was only Cedric's death that had really stopped the rumor mill, but that hadn't stopped Cho Chang from seeing her as a threat.

And it was about to start all over again. You've faced harder things since then, you can do this, she told herself, as thought it was supposed to be a rallying cry. You're Hermione Granger, you can do anything. "Don't worry about it—its fine—"

She noticed how the lines on Harry's face were still uneasy, "—I also wanted to ask when you're planning on telling Ron about Fred."

"Come again?" Hermione asked, her rallying cry dying with the lack of oxygen. She wasn't thinking clearly, she could have sworn Harry just asked when she was going to share to Ron, one of her oldest friends, that she was dating Fred. His brother. One of the brothers he had always compared himself against.

"Harry, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to tell someone whose just gotten out of a relationship that you are starting a relationship with their brother—its tactless," she laughed, "'Hello, sorry to hear about your lost love but I just wanted you to know I'm with your brother, ta!'—Would you like me to cut him before I pour in the salt?"

"Hermione he just got out of relationship. She broke up with him because she thought there was something going on with the two of you. He's vulnerable right now," Harry side, again squirming uncomfortably, "And if you're not careful, he's going to make it really uncomfortable really quick."

"Bullocks," she swore again. "Absolute Bullocks. It took six years and neglect before Ron turned to me. He doesn't get to determine the terms of my relationships."

She didn't know what she was feeling. Annoyance that Harry would suggest Ron would coming running to her now. Anger that Lavender was going to be stirring up things that need not be stirred—and Ron—how much would this complicate things? What had it already complicated?

Hermione didn't love Ron, she loved Fred. At least, that's what every thought she had seemed to scream within her. In another life she had loved Ron, but she wondered how much of that was really love and what of it had really been a friendship—a partnership—that had been tested by storms and strengthened through apologies and whispered promises that it will be alright this time. That they would make it work.

But you can't make a heart feel things. She knew that. She had always known that.

For the love of Hermione Granger, Always—Fred had said that. And she believed it. Wholeheartedly.

She didn't love Ron. That was fixed. But that didn't mean he didn't love her.

Regardless, it didn't matter. She would just need to get Ron to realize that. Any feelings he had for her, he would have to put aside like they had before, for the Greater Good. For helping Harry get the horcruxes. That was their job, to support Harry. Nothing else mattered.

And hopefully, all this worry was for nothing. Hopefully he didn't love her. And if he did, perhaps this time around he wouldn't do anything—just as before.

She'd just have to try and talk Fred into a clandestine relationship—but she'd worry about that later. Because there were things that were far more important that Hermione Granger.

"Are you going to use the Felix today?" Hermione asked.

"I—Yes, I am," He answered surprised at her turn in conversation, "But what does that have to—"

She turned around and faced him with what she hoped was a calm smile, "It'll sort it all out. Just promise me this—don't drink it all. You'll only need a few hours' worth."

She lifted her hand to his cheek, patting one and kissing the other, "Thank you Harry. Don't worry, I'll take care of the rest."

Hermione walked out of the room and into the corridor. It was still mid-morning. The Castle was still waking up all around her. She didn't have the faintest idea of how she was going to deal with this, but she knew there were bigger things to worry about, and that's what she needed to take care of.

((*))

Making her way through the castle, she didn't know where she could go to avoid running in with Lavender or Ron. She was even tedious about running into Parvati who would think that her disclosure yesterday may have some role in Lavender's narrative of the Hogsmeade Visit and Ronald's betrayal.

There was one place she knew she could escape to and not be found. So after loading up her bag from the Great Hall, she made her way up the maze of staircases and corridors until she had reached their tower.

It was ridiculous how amused she was with that pronoun. Their. Something they shared, something that could be her sanctuary if he wasn't there to be it for her.

She waved her wand at her sweater that was transformed into a large blanket, conjuring a pillow out of her pencil box. It wasn't as soft as she liked it. McGonagall wouldn't have given her full marks for it, but it served nicely against the stone pillar.

She flipped through her bag until she found the two that she was interested in most—her little journal from Fred and the Half-Blood Princes' book. When Harry had jumped on her in the Common Room earlier she had half the mind to supposed it was going to be an inquisition asking for where the book was. Her fingers traced the cover of Advanced Potion Making for a moment before turning her attention to her book, scrawling the password in the upper right corner and watching as the ink appeared like scurrying spiders to their pages.

The Prince's book had served it's purpose. It had kept Ron alive. It didn't have any other fixed points to serve. She could take hold of it now and not have to worry. Who knew, perhaps there was something tucked in there Harry had missed that could help them when they were on the run. Perhaps there was a tonic she could bookmark to save Fred or George—any of them. A counter jinx that could help them.

That's why she had brought it to the tower. To compare what had happened, and what else needed to happen—and what the book had to do with it.

There had been something important about it, something she couldn't put her hand on. She was looking at her timeline of what had happened before and she couldn't find it. Was it while we were on the run? She thought, turning pages ahead, trying to see if the secret laid there but she saw something else that caught her attention.

It was a note for July 24th—That's the day she had arrived at the Burrow.

Hermione's arrival to the Burrow was different because this was the first time that she had taken herself there. That summer she had tried different theories of how she could keep her family safe while she was on the run. Each more dismal than the one before, until she came to the conclusion to send them abroad.

It was a week till Harry's Birthday. She knew they were probably going to move them before hand. Ron had sent her a letter inviting her to the Burrow, saying that they'd pick her up that night if she'd like. But she had insisted, saying she would had to take care of things first. She had to take care of things—

24th July—breakfast with mum and dad. Go upstairs and finish packing for the Burrow. Have tea with mum and dad this time. You'll regret it if you don't. Apparate to Burrow and tell Molly you parents send their love, they'll be in Barcelona with your Aunt Rose and Aunt Donna until the end of the war.

"You won't have to worry about that any more," she said allowed, taking her quill and driving an "X" through it. She'd stick with the Barcelona story. She might believe that. That way she wouldn't have to come up with extra lies on why her Family didn't need order protection. Of Course, Dumbledore would take care of that this time.

A sudden crack rang through the tower and Hermione jumped, her wand whipping out a shielding charm like a reflex as she looked for the source of the sound.

It was Dobby.

"Dobby," Hermione sighed, clutching her chest. She understood why Harry always seemed to jump when he encountered Dobby. It was becoming a side effect of the elf's sudden arrivals, "Dobby, what's wrong?"

"The Headmaster's back and he's asking for Miss Granger," Dobby said, giving a bow as he spoke. Hermione tutted, taking Dobby by the hand, "Dobby you don't bow to anyone, least of all me" she smiled. The House Elf smiled while it looked as though his orbs were misting. "What exactly did Dumbledore say?"

"That it was urgent he sees Miss Granger," Dobby repeated. "He said that it was of the greatest importance."

Hermione had heard the same message before when she was summoned to Dumbledore's office, when she first started having dreams of Ron and Fred's deaths. As she remembered, the visit hadn't gone as well as either of them had hopped, leading her to think that perhaps she was better off thanking Dobby and taking the little scroll in his hand and chucking it from the top of the tower.

Despite this last thought, she took the scroll to read I would like to discuss our June plans with you at your earliest convenience. Please share with the gargoyles our mutual liking for Sugar Quills.

June Plans

And then it clicked.

She put her books back in the bag and wiped the journal clear before also tucking it away. "Come on Dobby, lets go visit the Headmaster."

((*))

The clock chimed two as she walked into Dumbledore's study.

The Headmaster's lifetime collection of gadgets whirled merrily in an unbroken rhythm, having not slowed down for her arrival, just as they wouldn't for her departure. She wondered if they had when Dumbledore had died, or if they still carried on, not knowing their master's on rhythm had come to an end. She had never visited the Headmaster's office right after his death. When she visited after the Battle of Hogwarts, Snape had put them all away, preferring a more minimalist setting.

She watched as the spheres and orbs rotated in perfect time, not missing a moment's beat. Continuing a steady course regardless of the actions or surroundings of those in that particular pocket of time.

Hermione reached out her hand to touch an orb, wondering what the repercussions would be. Would the gadget continue on, or would everything fall apart? Would a new course start? What would the lasting effect truly be?

"Ah Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore said casually as he came down the steps into his main study. Hermione tucked her hand to her side as he made for his desk, "Thank you for coming."

"I'm starting to wonder if Dobby has a trace on me," Hermione smiled, taking the chair infront of the desk, "Lucky I didn't die of fright."

Dumbledore smiled behind his half moon glasses, "You and I both know that it would take more than fight to end Hermione Granger."

Hermione turned her eyes to the ground and gave a weak smile, "No, I suppose it wouldn't." She turned again to face the Headmaster. "I got your letter. It said you wanted to discuss—"

Dumbledore placed his arms on the desk and started unwrapping his blackened hand. "My Death," the Headmaster said simply. "I'm afraid that even if I wanted to test Dr. Brown's theory, it wouldn't buy me the time we'd need."

"How long—" Hermione was taken aback by the disease, from where she sat she could see the outline of the bandage to well above his elbow, Had it always gone that high? Had she not noticed the gradual increase with each visit?

"Professor Snape said July, maybe August,"he answered calmly, "So you revelation last fall regarding that I die in June is actually a mercy in away—as you could imagine, the curse doesn't provide a peaceful ending."

She was bewildered at how coolly he was able to discuss his death, as though he was talking to her about one of her dreams or preparing her for occlumency—it was just another detail to a lesson, one she didn't quite understand. "Professor—why are you telling me this?"

"The last time you were in here Miss Granger I denied you erasing your memories. I cited the 'greater good' as my reasoning," the Professor seemed timid now at this, "You know, I hadn't said those words in years, let alone thought them. I'm afraid that while I was centered on recreating a certain ending," he looked at Hermione again, " I hadn't thought to ask what my role was in making sure that ending occurred."

"You want me to tell you how you die?" Hermione asked tentatively, "Professor—I'm not sure that's—"

"Oh I know how I'm going to die Miss Granger, I'm afraid that has been planned for quite some time," Dumbledore smiled, "Mr. Malfoy is going to try and do it—but Professor Snape will be of some assistance I believe?" he gave a knowing nod and continued, "What I'm asking is what do I need to do for you and the school once I've died."

"I—I don't understand," she replied, "You want to know what happens to the school after you die?"

"In a way," Dumbledore answered. "I have been spent this entire year knowing you know the secrets of what is to take place, but I haven't yet asked how I fit in after my death, if I still play a part. I want you to think of what happens after I go. Did I leave you anything that was beneficial—do I communicate any plans, secrets—"

"Professor," Hermione asked with a smile, "Have you ever shared any of your plans with us?"

Dumbledore gave a wrinkled smile, "That's a very good point. But please, tell me everything I did for you after I died-I need to make sure I have those preparations. So we can give Harry the best start."

Hermione still didn't understand what he was saying, at least she didn't think she did. "Is this like in our Third Year with the time Turner? If we hadn't gone back, Harry wouldn't have been able to cast the patronus that saved us from the Dementors?"

A sparkle seemed to shine in Dumbledore's eye, "The thought has definitely crossed my mind," he said, "If we have learned anything this year Miss Granger it is that the details can define us."

She looked down at the book she was holding in her lap, her hands fidgeting with the corner. The memories started flowing back to her, scrawling to her mind like the words she had kept in this book. "Your will," she said after a moment, "After all, you left Harry Ron and I very particular items in the will."

"Yes," Dumbledore answered excitedly, " I haven't made changes to my will since the first war ended. What do I leave you?" he snapped his fingers and a quill began taking notes.

"Your copy of Beedle the Bard," she answered, looking at the books behind the desk and identifying it from memory. "I still don't really know why. I always wanted to ask you about that."

Dumbledore smiled, " I can tell you at this moment I'm bequeathing it to you upon your request, But I'm sure you can assume that it's yours because you will learn the secrets others would miss."

"Ron you gave the Dillumniator, because—" her throat seemed to close in, "Because you knew that he could end up leaving us, and that he would regret it once he did."

"He left you?"Dumbledore asked taken aback, "Why—"he paused, "No. No, I don't need to know," he said, mimicking her line before turning his attention back to Hermione, "Do I?"

She smiled gently, "No, I don't think you do. Just know that he comes back. I think you've always understood Ron better than most. Its thanks to the Dilluminator he returns. I say his name at Christmas and he finds his way home."

"And Harry?"

Her thoughts had her back at the Burrow. The Three of them cramped on the couch as Scrimgeour read the will, handing Harry the Snitch. They didn't know the cryptic message inscribed on it yet. They were all holding their new knick-knacks with unknown curiosity. The grief for loosing Dumbledore was still raw, and now to be holding these last treasures, not knowing what they meant, what they wisdom they were meant to provide. What comfort could be found in them.

When the war had ended, when the three of them were back at the Burrow after the war, they talked about these gifts again. Harry told them about the Resurrection Stone, and how he figured Dumbledore had given him that stone for those last moments. So he could make the walk into deaths hand and greet him as an old friend. How it was his parents, Remus and Sirius that helped him do what had to be done. In a way, she felt that they had helped more than she and Ron could have in that moment, because how could Ron be asked to walk his friend to Death after loosing his brother? How could Hermione walk Harry, who was in all effect her best friend and her brother, to the grave?

She hadn't known that would be his plan. If she had, she would have tried coming up with a different plan. She could remember coming out of the numbing grief that Fred , Remus, and Tonks had died only to realize as she sat next to Luna in the Great Hall that Harry was missing. Once that thought was realized it was the only one that could occupy her head. He wouldn't give up, she had told herself, He wouldn't have left without saying goodbye-But she knew that was a lie. That Harry would do anything if it meant saving those he loved. After all, hadn't he proved that time and time again?

"You give Harry the resurrection stone," Hermione said, coming back to the present. "You hide in inside his first Snitch, with a message he only figures out at the end," she swallowed for a moment "I open at the close"

"He figures it out on his own?" Dumbledore asked, "Does anything make him realize what it is he needs to do?"

She thought for a moment, "No, its after she enters Snapes' memories," she answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "Snape—before he dies, he gives Harry his memories that explain everything. Why Snape chose to defect Voldemort the first time—Snape's help while we're on the run—Harry learns about Lily"

"Severus helps you?" Dumbledore began, slightly amazed, he seemed to shake his head and then come again, "I mean, Severus has always helped-he's agreed to help when I'm gone-"

And then other pieces of the puzzle comes together and Hermione realized there were more ways Dumbledore was able to help after he had passed. She had always assumed that Dumbledore had planned ahead. That he had every detail laid out. But was it possible that some of those details had been laid out because someone had told him what was to come, what was to be prepared for?

Hermione put the journal on the desk between the two of them, "He actually helps us because you tell him what to do."

((*))

Ginny Weasley had had much better days.

Her day had started out well enough. She had made it through most of the days without the knowledge of Ron and Lavender falling apart. She and Dean had been having a bit of a row the night before, and had gone flying that morning as an attempt to cool each other off. It had worked the first time, and the second, but they had done this so often she was starting to think the only thing improving was their Quidditch technique, not their communication skills.

The thing was, Dean didn't think he was doing anything wrong.

But she did.

At first it was just chivalrous things. Holding the door open, helping her into the portrait hole—while she had grown up with brothers, she had seen her father do thing like this for mum and at first she had liked it. She had liked dating a guy who would hold doors for her, who would add her broom to his as they walked back to the school. It was something so different from Terry Boot.

But then she noticed Dean was starting to answer for both of them. He had put her order at The Leaky Cauldron when they met up over Christmas Holiday. It hadn't bothered her at first. After all, he had ordered what she was planning on ordering anyway, but he kept doing similar things. Holding the door open for her before she was ready to leave the tent at Quidditch games. Helping her when she was getting through the portrait hole when she had already started in.

It wasn't chivalrous anymore—it was suffocating. She didn't know how to tell him he was closing in on her Independence, but that's what it felt like. He isn't doing anything wrong—you can't break up with a guy for being a gentleman—

But was he a gentleman if they were both walking on egg shells around each other?

They returned back to the castle in the early evening, and that's when she first heard of Ron's relationship. Luna was sitting on the steps in front of the Great Hall when she gave her the warning "Ron's hurt Lavender and she's blaming Hermione." Bullocks. Absolute Bullocks Ronald.

"Don't get into it," Dean muttered as they walked into the hall, "Just don't pay attention."

"He's my brother Dean," Ginny sighed, "As much as I wish I couldn't avoid it—he's my brother."

She should have listened to him. She should have suggested they just go knick something from the kitchens. Fred and George had taught her this trick just for instances like this. But no, she had walked head first into the Great Hall, where Pansy Parkinson held court with housemates who saw Ginny's face and started their inquisition.

"So is it true that Weasley's are not only blood traitors but cheaters as well?" Daphne Greengrass asked as her friends started laughing.

I'm going to kill Ronald, Ginny noted internally as she kept a straight face. "That's a good question. But I have one for you first," Ginny started, tilting her head and looking at them all, "Is it true that your families are bigiots as well as Death Eaters? Or just simply Death Eaters. I can never remember."

Their laughter died and she saw Pansy Parkinson make a move for her wand. Ginny hadn't meant to shoot a Bat Boggey at her per se, but she had no intention to let gossip go around where Hermione was not there to defend herself. In full honesty, it was worth every point that would be taken from Gryffindor to see Daphne and Pansy running up to the Hospital Wing, points be damned.

But Dean… Oh Dean…

Dean had got on to her about it. Saying that she was better to stay out of it. That it wasn't any of their business. "But she's my friend," it wasn't a lie. Sure, she and Hermione weren't as close as Hermione was to Harry and Ron, but they were still friendly towards each other. She trusted Hermione. What more, she had spent enough time with Hermione over the years to know that she wouldn't have an affair with her brother. Least of all, an affair with Ron.

"Yes, well Ron's my friend too, doesn't mean I'm going to throw out hexes over him being a—"

All Ginny had to do was shoot Dean a look and he knew he had gone too far.

"Well maybe you should!" She said, taking her bag and heading out the Great Hall.

"Ginny—Gin—"

"If you're not going to stand up for your friends, what does that make you?"Ginny asked, turning around on the steps as Dean caught up with her. She knew she was being ridiculous. They had been squabbling over lots of things lately. This was just another thing they could squabble over.

"It makes me someone who doesn't want to get in other people's business," Dean shouted back, "Come on, the Slytherins are just trying to grab your goat—"

"And paint Hermione as a—"

"Hermione is a grown up who can stand her own ground. She's been called a mudblood since she was twelve, trust me she can stand up against anything the Slytherins come up with," Dean said firmly. This time he tried reach for her hand, but she had balled them into tight fists so he only had his hand around her wrist.

She gave her arm a strong flick, breaking loose of his grasp. "It doesn't mean she has to face it alone," she said through clinched teeth; "Don't follow me Dean."

"What do you mean don't follow you?" he asked following her up the stairs.

She kept walking up the stairs, "It means don't follow me—don't ever follow me again, don't tlk to me again. We're through."

She made her way to Gryffindor tower and although she was running away from Dean, she felt like she was finally free. Free of him, free of their relationship that had been closing in on her. She wasn't running but flying back to the Common Room, to the chair next to the fireplace where she could watch the flames dance and learn how to mimic them.

But that spot was taken by Hermione who had fallen asleep.

It wasn't anywhere near bedtime but she imagined that she had been through quite a bit that day. As busy as Ginny had been between Quidditch, Dean and figuring out her OWLS, she could only imagine how busy Hermione was in whatever quest she and the boys had taken on this term.

She took the quill out of Hermione's hand and dropped it into the schoolbag next to a one of her text books. She reached for the parchment and book that was in her friend's lap next to put them away, but a name caught her eye.

She hadn't meant to read the letter. But she saw that name. and it caught her eye. Ginny knew the name, but she didn't know why it belonged on the parchment. It must be out of place. She looked at the words surrounding the name, and then the a new light seemed to spark in Ginny's head and she knew the rumors were complete false.

Hermione wasn't in love with Ron.

She was in love with Fred.

((*))

AN: I haven't written in so long I hope this is worth the wait! I'm sorry there isn't any Fred, by the time I meant to work on his portion of the chapter I saw the word count and had a heart attack. I feel like I say this with every chapter, but I wasn't in love with the first draft... thank you to beautiful Jen-Jen who has gone through every draft of this chapter and added little quips and offered precious advice...

I wanted this Chapter to be the olive branch for Hermione and Dumbledore. Where she reconcile some of the feelings she's had towards him since she fell back in time. I also wanted to pay tribute to PoA where time travel had implications that we didn't realize until we were there. I really hope it came across that way!

I feel like this chapter is a look at several of the different relationships Hermione is balancing. Her relationship with Harry, Ron, Dumbledore, and at long last at the end, with Fred. I feel a little devious breaking up Ron and Lavender, but I promise it has a purpose which we will get to in coming chapters. I am really sorry that We didn't get Fred in this chapter (re:word-count-heart-attack), but promise he will have presence in the next chapter.

Ok, Done with the "I" Statements. Too Many of those.

Prelude to 28:

Harry's secured the memory, and is hoping to secure more when he realizes that Ginny and Dean and no longer a thing; Meanwhile, Hermione continues to study the Prince's book to see what help he can offer, knowing what exactly they'll face while on the run. Fred receives two letters one from Remus another from his dearest sister who has a few secrets of her own to share.

Until Next Time, keep persisting!

All My Love,

KH