Chapter 28

Falling Controls

"Do you smell something?"

Fred looked up from the beaker he was currently working and took off his goggles. "George, I've been working on the new U-Know-Poo since close, everything smells to me."

"Nah, this is different, this smells good," His brother began, deeply inhaling the air again, his face relaxed and intoxicated,"Like Hogwarts kitchens—"

Fred dimmed the flame below the beaker, and walked over to where George was working. Or better, huffing, he hadn't done anything work related for the past half hour. Fred had to admit, it did smell nice—but not like the Kitchens. It was the familiar Lilac and Honey again, seeping into his system like he was back on that tower,the wind rushing through her hair slamming it with her smell. It was almost overpowering, and for he briefest of moments he thought that maybe she was behind him and he'd have to kick George out or something before he could stop himself from snogging—

But when he turned around he didn't see Hermione, but instead he saw the amortenita was starting to boil in the corner and he rushed to contain it before it spilled over, "Last time I put you in charge of the Love Potions mate, you're going to burn it if you're not careful."

"Would it be the end of the world if the shop smelt like fresh made bread?" George asked, looking wistfully in the corner as the little test tubes came to soak up the excess potion.

"No, but I might go mental," Fred said as George smirked, "That's right. How many more week's brother dear?"

Fred didn't turn around this time. Instead he flicked his wand and a can of worms sprung at George's head, one sticking in his left ear.

"Oi!" George cried, swatting the paper worm away, "Just trying to defuse the tension."

Four more weeks, he thought, not even 28 days. He hadn't wanted to keep a count down, but when he came back from Hogsmede with Remus—well, after he had gotten a verbal lashing from Remus was the more accurate description—he had come to his desk the next morning to find a miniature cuckoo clock that spouted out a miniature brunette holding a stack of book that were taken by a tall, devilishly good looking red head that sprouted out of the side. It took him a couple days before he realized that the clock didn't measure time but ticked down the days at noon—when they would inch closer together and musical ditty played in the background.

Again, he hadn't wanted to keep a count down. That's what crazy, obsessed people did. If anyone was crazy in this relationship it would be Hermione's sanity called into question, not his.

But, if it was his sanity that was at fault, he blamed that on Ginny.

A letter had come in the post last week from his sister, letting Fred (it was just Fred the letter was addressed to, George was quick to point out) know of the sudden falling out of love occurring for the Weasley siblings. He was indifferent about Ginny's break up with Dean—Fred never saw that going any further than Hogwarts—he was grateful she seemed so indifferent about it. But it was the other failing relationship and fall out that had him glance at the cuckoo clock.

Fred didn't doubt that Hermione cared for him. He knew she did. He'd doubt a good amount of things but he wouldn't doubt they were real.

What he did doubt was how the recently single Ron may feel about his friend. Especially as he didn't know that she was seeing his older brother.

And what more, what his brother would do when he found out.

He could picture it all now. Ickle Ronniekins marching into the shop early in the summer holiday, arms swinging like the overgrown banshee he was, and after trying to hit him (Fred would be sure to have one of his shielding cloaks on), Ron would puff in incomplete sentences how his brother had wronged him, ruined any chances he had for eternal happiness, and something about ruing the day.

Fred was ok with that. He could deal with that. They were brothers. Blanket threats had been their conversation since the teddy bear incident.

But that's all he expected to happen. Ron would be bothered for a good week, maybe two—three tops. When she came to the Burrow he would be tense. He'd communicate in trollish grunts until Ginny had too much of it one day and she'd send a hex his way. He's lucky she's still under the trace or she'd really have at it—

And some where between the grunts and Ginny's reprisal, He'd stop. He'd get over it. He'd come down the stairs one morning for breakfast and he'd be the same old Ron, only angry at whoever failed to pass the bangers and eggs to his end of the table. After all, there was a wedding going on and he'd have the possibility of rendezvousing with one of Fleur's classmates. His brother had a small attention span. He'd probably see a cousin or Victor Krum and go bother them.

Because Ron was her friend. Ron would respect his friend's decision. No matter what he felt, Ron would tuck it aside for his friend's sake.

At least, that's what Fred hoped.

"Fred—Fred you listening?"George asked, calling him back and away from his thoughts. His brother had stood up and was putting the potion into a series of vials. "This blanking out bits new. Maybe you've been working on the U-No-Poo too much. Keep doing this and Hermione will think U-Know-Poo," George laughed at his own joke and put the vials in a chill box, "I was trying to ask when Remus was coming by again."

"Right," Fred said snapping back, he looked over to the desk and saw the note that Tonks had dropped by when she was on the way to Gringotts. "Said Dumbledore has him staying with the colony again this week and he will be in communication again soon so we can get the warning out in time."

"Is that all he said?" George asked suspiciously.

"He also said under no circumstance was I to go barging back to Hogwarts," Fred answered, annoyingly. "While he says he's alright with knowing Hermione and I are a couple he thinks me rushing back and forth will only draw attention to the two of us and could draw attention to Dumbledore's correspondence. So Tonks will take over my route for now."

"Because people aren't going to question why an Auror has taken up Owl Post to Dumbledore in his own school—" George started suspiciously.

"Thank you," Fred agreed, feeling vindicated.

"I mean, it's not like she can change her appearance at will to look like a student as she travels through the castle," George quipped, causing Fred to take that vindication and throw it out the window. This would have been a better moment to chuck a worm in his ear...

"Oi, I'm just saying Remus has a point." George said as he tapped his desk and the top rolled down and locked itself, the key floating to his hand. "Come on, we have to wait on him before we can execute either the pamphlets or the Prophet notice. Let's go meet up with Lee and the girls and go into town. We could try that muggle place off of Piccadilly. Get out of here for a night, pretend their isn't a war about to spring out of a can."

Fred cast his eyes to the cuckoo clock again. A part of him didn't want to go out because that meant he'd be going out with his brother and their friends and not dedicating an evening to working on the radio, or coming up with some plan he could share with her later. He had to go up to Chelsea tomorrow and see if they had the radio bit he had ordered and hope—hope above hope—that they would work and when she came back they'd be able to put it together.

And it would be the two of them—well, three of them, adding in their own factor of the resistance.

"You're blanking out again," George said, clasping his hand to his brother's shoulder. "Come on, come with me, we're going to Piccadilly and I'm not taking no as an answer."

((*))

The afternoon sunshine was pouring through the windows of the library, spilling over like a warm blanket on the desk in the center of the room.

Hermione sat down and started pulling out her things. It wasn't her typical desk on the east wall that she had favored her seven years at the school, but it had been her spot for the last few weeks. Sure, she may no longer have the view of her towers and the lake below but it had quickly become necessary the last few weeks.

At this spot, she was the view. The first person you saw when you entered the common area of the library. The second table in, right next to the restock cart. The Second large table that commanded attention. Where you couldn't hide anything. Or, better yet, where you couldn't hide anyone. No Secret Romance, no torrid affairs. No one involved with any would in their right mind set up there to study on a daily basis.

The fall out of Ron and Lavender's break up hadn't been as bad as she had expected. While she liked to credit that to the fact she was visibly not with Ron, or seen coming out of a tight, confiding spot with him, she knew there where other helping factors that had stopped rumors from flying. After all, there was Ginny who seemed to be coping with her own break up by threatening anyone who so much as whispered in Hermione's vicinity with her own Bat Boogey Hex.

Meanwhile, Harry had instituted one of the most intense training regimens the Gryffindor team had ever seen in the past ten years. She had heard Katie confess in the girls lavatory that if she didn't know better Harry was becoming the evil captain spawn that could only have been produced from Oliver and Angelina, who she was sure would be looking at his sessions with near reverent awe. Three hours in the evenings and then two-a-days on the weekend guaranteeing that Ron's free time was as limited as possible. If Hermione asked him about it he'd simply say he was making sure his friend wasn't thinking about Lavender but she knew they both knew the better.

Regardless, Hermione was grateful to have both Harry and Ron out of her hair as Harry still was looking for his copy of the Half Blood Prince and was starting to grow suspicious of Hermione's denials. But perhaps she was just over thinking that. The book was safe and sound in her bag—and the spell that had been reserved for Draco was under Hermione's watch least Harry through away his final shot to play quidditch at Hogwarts.

As for Lavender—she still wouldn't look at Hermione, let alone talk to her. She was busy getting caught up on five months of gossip from Parvati who had been strolling through the charred remains of her friends relationship as though it was the gift she hadn't received at Christmas. Parvati was still civil to Hermione, and she supposed Parvati was the reason she hadn't woken up to find her belongings thrashed across the room or bed curtains ripped to ribbons.

Parvati had said Lavender had wanted to see Hermione's reaction if she broke up with Ron. So a reaction was the one thing Hermione was refusing to give. A show the very last thing she was willing to contribute to.

It had been a few weeks now and she hadn't been alone with Ron yet. She hadn't had to have any potentially awkward conversations. She hadn't had to tell him she was seeing Fred.

She had instead fallen into the healthy rhythm of coming up into the library in her free time, sitting at the large table with too many chairs and studying. Its what Hermione Granger did before, during, and now after the great Gryffindor Romance of 95'. She wasn't studying so much as she was leafing through books for potions and counter jinxes. Preparing. If anyone was noisy enough to ask what for she would smile sweetly and say her N.E.W.T , and watch as they back away-ed slowly, knowing better than to be on the receiving end of interrupting Hermione's studies.

Maybe that was more in the past. She looked down at her watch and noted it was almost five on a Tuesday. It wouldn't be long before Luna, Collin and a few of the other fifth years made there way up here to join her table. By eight every chair would be full and a ghost of a murmur would hang over the air as she helped them with their O.W.L preparation.

Sometimes she did more than prepare them for their O.W.L.s, in a way she hoped she was giving them tips of how to survive the next year at Hogwarts. She had started showing Luna how to do the charm she had used to send messages to the DA.

In the past, she would have been annoyed if she had to give up a few hours on her studies.

But now, she relished in it.

After the war, there had been inquiries over what to do in regards to students who had taken their test in what they called the Darkest Years—the years between Umbridge and the Carrows. The Board of Governors argued strongly that the students had received the best quality education under the situation—for the most part. The majority of the Governors came to the conclusion that it was only in the last year that the education of the students could be questioned, determining that it was difficult for students to gain the skills they'd be tested on if they had at one time or another been threatened with an unforgivable as punishment for less than satisfactory results.

There had been talk among the teachers of appealing the O.W.L and N.E.W.T exams be cancelled just for that reason—and then the Battle of Hogwarts had happened and those tests never happened. The test was for those outside the castle, tasked with the job to rebuild their world. The Board of Governors came to the conclusion that those who would have graduated in the Class of 1998 could be invited to return for either a full and unprecedented eighth year, study at home and take their N.E. with the Class of 1999, or they could appeal for Alternative Certification and avoid the process altogether.

That's what Ron and Harry had done. If you had asked Ron, he would've said the three of them were the reason they had made up such a test. They wanted their help and they wanted it now. "I don't need any of those blokes testing me on my ability to combat the Dark Arts," Ron had said as the three of them lay in the field behind the Burrow, the hot summer sun now a distant memory as the chill of night fall fell on them."Let's be honest, we've fought more of the Dark Arts than the entire testing panel combined."

"Can you imagine writing a paper and one of the Professors saying 'Potter, you wouldn't use that spell as self defense in that scenario—' only for you to come back and say 'Well, I actually did use that when we were escaping the Ministry last September and it worked out ok," Harry said agreeing, looking over to Ron who had started doing his best Snape impersonation, "A Polyjuice potion wouldn't last that long Weasley, five points from Gryffindor."

"You'll need a better reason than Snape to keep you from going back to Hogwarts," Hermione said, looking up at the stars, a shooting star catching her gaze. She could feel Harry grow silent and still next to her. She knew that they had their reasons. Ron didn't want to go back because he didn't want to go back to having someone tell him what to do. He wanted to be part of the revamping of the Ministry. He wanted to be seen as a leader, like Harry, in helping Kingsley reconstruct the Auror Department.

Harry, he wouldn't go back either. Even though Hermione thought that it would be the best option for him—she dared to see a reporter try and sneak into the castle to get an interview only to cross paths with Minerva McGonagall—but she knew better now than she did then—the ghosts at Hogwarts were not limited to those who you could see. And for Harry, he could see them more than anyone.

She knew someday he'd be back at Hogwarts. She had come to that conclusion watching him teach the DA. Someday he'd be back, teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, watching the Gryffindor Quidditch team and having tea with Minerva McGonagall every Sunday. But he had to heal first, himself and the world they lived in, before he took up residence at Hogwarts.

"You'll do it, wont you Hermione? The AC?" Ron asked, and she could feel his hand trace her fingers linking them with her own, "Who else would help us prepare for it?"

Harry saved her. He laughed, rolling on his side, "You really think Hermione Granger won't go back? Are you daft?" Hermione had smiled at that, "He's right, besides—who will help the other Muggleborns who were on the run?"

"Madam Pince," Ron shrugged, he too now looking at her, but his gaze one of hurt and offense, "Come on Hermione. The three of us together in the Ministry—think of it—"

But she couldn't.

She had been on the run, like them but it wasn't who she was. She never wanted to be an Auror. She had no desire to chase Dark Wizards her entire life. She needed a respite. She could only think of her library. Her sanctuary. Her place she could run to. She'd face the ghosts. The ghosts were easier encounters than the living who wanted to know so, so much of how she'd done it. What she was doing now. Seven years of Friendship with Harry had been dedicated to survival. She didn't know what to do next and she didn't want to share with the world quite yet that Hermione didn't know the answer to a question.

"No, I'm going back," she said firmly, keeping her eyes on the stars above. "I'm going back to Hogwarts."

"But Neville's even taking the AC—" Ron had said, his voice becoming harder.

"Neville ran an underground resistance in Hogwarts. He's a hero in his own right," she said sharply, throwing Ron a dirty look. "Besides, he's taking it but he's also thinking about coming back. Professor Sprout's offered him a work-study option to help her rebuild the Greenhouses."

"But what about us?" Ron had asked after Harry went back into the house a half hour later. "What about us?"

She couldn't remember what she had said. Did you have that Quaffle on your stomach then? She wondered, Could you tell—even then—what you can tell now? That you didn't love him? That he cared more than you did?

"There is no us," Hermione said aloud, "There was never an us."

"What was that Hermione?"

Luna was setting down her books across from her, "Sorry Collin had to finish his muffin before we came in, Madam Pince nearly jumped down his throat just now seeing the crumbs on his collar."

"That's alright,"Hermione said, shaking the memories from her. They hadn't snuck up like that in a while. She looked at her bracelet, the time turner catching the sunlight.

"That's a very nice Will Bender," Luna said, motioning at the hourglass, "My Nann had one when I was little."

"A what?" Hermione asked with a smile as she pulled out some of her notes from last year's O.W.L prep, passing them over to Collin.

"A Will's Bender,"Luna answered, "It lets you will a different ending, or helps you fix something in the past. They're very tricky to operate though Hermione, you should be careful. The dust of the Gallfifairy are very fickle, if your will isn't certain it becomes more wibbly-wobbly than —"

Hermione hoped her face was kinder than it would've been in the past, "Don't worry Luna, I'm not planning on using it any time soon."

Luna nodded, still smiling as she pulled out her books , "It's a good thing to have, especially if you're using it for good. Nann would use it to find her glasses."

Hermione returned to her charm book and started scribbling in her book; Advance Charms was more than for the N.E.W.T level, this book was intended for those pursuing a career in Magical Defense—and focused on the Fidelius Charm. After brewing a years worth of Polyjuice Potion and everything else, the Fidelius Charm didn't seem as daunting as she had expected it would be.

The only thing she thought she'd struggle with was convincing Her Secret Keeper to take up the role.

And that was only because she didn't know how to tell him she was leaving.

If she was being honest with herself, that's what gave her more anxiety that Ron finding out about the two of them. Not that Fred would tell her not to go, but that somehow he'd have talked her into letting him come with them.

Don't be daft, you wouldn't let him do that—and that was true too. But not because she didn't want him to—it was illogical but love was illogical—no, she didn't want him to come because she knew she could survive Ron leaving. She didn't know what the outcome would be if Fred came and he left her, alone in the woods, crying in her bunk.

Ginny took her spot at the the table. She was wearing her quidditch robe and had her hair crisscrossed in a braid.

"Don't you have Quidditch practice?" Luna asked, scooting her stack of books over to make room for her friend.

"We're not meeting till seven," she sighed sinking into her chair,she cast her eyes towards the sunshine streaming through, "Would it kill us to study outside?"

"Don't say the 'O' Word, Pince will have you in a leg locker curse before you can cross the threshold,"Hermione warned as Ginny shrugged it off, staring at the book in front of her as though it was Riddles book back to eat away at her soul. "We're coming up on dinner—come on Hermione, sneak down to the kitchens with me, lets get something to eat before the books eat us."

Hermione took the book she had been reading from and put it in Luna's stack, "Just for a little bit—"

"I'll have her sneak you two something back," Ginny beamed as she flew from her seat, and took Hermione by the hand, nearly dragging her out of the room.

It wasn't that Ginny didn't study, she was more studious than Ron, but it was obvious it wasn't her favorite thing in the world. She loved Quidditch season, and the last few weeks without Dean, she seemed to love it all the more. She had been in a good mood, but it was on a broom, not in a book she was finding her happy place.

"Did any of your brothers like studying or was it just Percy and this is an act of rebelling against him?" Hermione asked as the two of them strolled down the corridor.

"Bill was a little bookish till his third year," Ginny laughed, "He and Charlie used to go to the muggle library in town until he borrowed a book where dwarves killed a dragon and reclaimed their gold."

'What happened after that?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"The Burning of The Hobbit banned the Weasley children from the library, and officially ended Charlie's leisure reading. He was straight Scamander after that. Then there's Percy and Ron who are day and night—the twins read what they want," Ginny said, pausing for a minute before correcting herself, "Take that back, George reads more. But Fred enjoys hearing stories."

Hermione could feel Ginny's eyes on the back of her head as she shared that little detail about Fred. There had been a few other instances in between the break up and now where Ginny would do that. Say something about the twins and then single Fred out again. Here she had singled George but she couldn't help remembering Ginny say that she had gotten a letter from Fred the other day. Or that Fred was sending a package from the store soon, was there anything she wanted? Or that Fred had said he was working on a project and wanted to know what Hermione thought of it.

"Well he tells good stories, it doesn't surprise me he likes some every now and again," Hermione said casually, but she could see a smile curling on Ginny's lip. "Oh shut it," she said quickly and walked a little faster.

"Want to tell me a story Hermione? Like how you fell for my brother?" Ginny asked, trying to catch up with her, "Come on, I think it's great! Unexpected but—" she paused, taking Hermione by her shoulders to square her up, "I'll be honest, I like this so much better than the thought of you and Ron and—"

"Shh—we're in a corridor, someone will here you," Hermione interrupted looking around the corner.

"You fancy someone. It's not a sin," Ginny said, still smiling, "I'm sorry I was nosy and saw the letter you were writing him when you fel asleep a few weeks back. I've wanted to tell you for a while now, that I knew."

Hermione could feel her cheeks redden and the smile pull at the corners of her lips, " I'm glad," she said, "I'm glad it was you that found it—I'd have had a lot of explaining to do if someone else had found it."

"Don't worry, secret's safe with me. And I assume Harry?"

"Just you two," Hermione said, "Well at the castle. I'm sure George knows. Maybe Lee—but we're just keeping it quite for now."

Ginny gave her a look as though she wanted to say it sounds like you're keeping it quite, but Hermione didn't want to revel more than she wanted to.

But Ginny wasn't done yet."He's happy, in his letters" she nudged as they came down another landing, "I mean he's always happy in his letters, but I think he wants to tell people, He asks about you in his letters. If it wasn't your letter that gave it away, it's his."

Hermione didn't say anything for a moment, but held on to the thought. She could imagine him vividly, sitting at his desk, scratching out a betraying phrase, only to turn to George in hopes he'd give a better one and determine his original one was better and then sypher the ink in his wand and write it again.

"I like him," Hermione said simply, the smile still lingering on her face, "I like him quite a bit."

Ginny smiled, "And that's all you have to tell people when you do decide to tell people. And don't worry about Ron. I'll take care of him if he makes a fuss."

"If?" Hermione countered.

"Very well, when he makes a fuss." They had reached the first floor and Ginny was about to turn the corner to the hallway that led to the portrait of the painted fruit, "You coming?" Ginny asked.

"Be right behind you," Hermione promised. There was something that caught her eyes,"Just need to check on something quick—told McGonagall I would. We're getting new Prefect assignments."

Ginny nodded and disappeared down the back corridor, while Hermione turned her attention to the corridor across the hall.

The bit about McGonagall was a lie. She wanted to investigate something that had caught her eye but thought better than to drag Ginny into it. There was water spelt on the floor. And quite a bit of water. Which wasn't unheard of—it was near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but Myrtle had been subdued her sixth year if Hermione could remember right. But something seemed off to her. There was something she was forgetting.

She turned the corner to the hall nearest the restroom, Myrtle's Restroom. Snape had just come up the stairs from the dungeon and then the hall was engulfed in the sounds of an explosion, and a ghostly shrill calling out murder.

And then it all came rushing back. Murder—Murder in the bathroom—that had been Myrtle's cry. Water, porcelain exploding like shrapnel—

From a distance, her eyes met Snape and she realized they both knew who was in the bathroom.

She ran in first, beating Snape in the room. The stalls looked as though the tops had been ripped away, similar to the time the Mountain Troll had tried to finish her off first year. One of the sinks and a toilet had burst and the pipes was sending down a wave of water that parted the scene like a curtain. A lake was forming at her ankles and she could see thin streams of crimson mixing in the water.

Had he already read the spell? Is that why he had still been able to do it? Was it worse now because he may not have remembered it as well as he had before?

"Expelliarmus!" she roared waiting at the ready to catch Harry's wand. But it wasn't the familiar holly that came to her. It was a familiar Hawthorne one instead.

She looked at the wand and her insides seemed to freeze and the walls came crashing in on her. No-

"Harry?" Hermione cried, as she pushed through the sprays of water. She saw Draco looking down at Harry, in a mix of dread and horror, as though even he hadn't thought it would be this bad. He made eye contact with her and she saw just how shaken he was. He wasn't the scary Draco Malfoy she had gone to school with, he was a frightened little boy. She shoved him out of the way, looking down at Harry trying to access the damage.

He had deep ribbons cut across his torso, and the crimson was deeper here, seeping through his shirt. Hermione fell to her knees and tried to see if was bleeding anywhere else, rapidly unbuttoning his shirt He was pale, and shaking.

Suddenly it wasn't water she was kneeling in but soft earth, she was trying to get leafs to soak up the blood, anything to stop the bleeding. Why didn't she have her purse. Her bag. Anything. She had taken the Prince's book to keep Harry in the game. Not so he could be the one ripped apart. Her hands were red, the rest of her skin pale in comparison. "Dittany," she muttered, "I need dittany. Go get Dittany—" she barked turning to Draco, who seemed to be clutching a sink for support, "He'll bleed out if you don't—"

Snape was in the room now, looking from Malfoy to Harry, from Harry to Hermione and then back to Harry again before he raised his arm and started muttering a spell that seemed to stop the bleeding. "Go tell Madam Pomfrey," Snape said as he continued in a second time, "That I will have Potter up shortly and he'll need a replenishment draft—"

She looked down at Harry and in his place she saw Ron, twisting and convulsing. It was her fault. It had been her fault before and here it was her fault again. She was realizing now she was crying, the hot water a relief to the cold. "Go you silly girl—go"

She looked at Draco and saw that he too looked pale. Paler than he ever had before. The sink was his sole support and even that seemed to be failing him. How did he know that spell? Did Snape teach him—

"Miss Granger go—"

She stumbled out of the room; and looked down at her hands, they were clean but shaking. Her clothes were wet but crimson blood on the sleeves. She felt she was shaking more than she had before, more than Malfoy.

((*))

In a scene similar to Ron's poisoning, people were assembled around Harry's bed. The Gryffindor Quidditch team had been the first on the scene, Hermione having ran to the kitchen's to grab Ginny to come with her before she had gone to Madam Pomfrey. She had tried to have Hermione stop and explain what had gone wrong, why they were running as though lives depended on it.

When Ron had been poisoned, all Ginny had to say was "Ron's been poisoned" and Hermione had shut up and followed her. It had the opposite effect on Ginny. Saying "Harry's been attacked" had launched into "What do you mean's?" and " Who?" and "How? That launched into the deeper questions of "Why was he there?" "Why did he do it?" " What spell did he use?"

Once Harry was situated in the Hospital Wing and Madam Pomfrey was talking with Snape, Ginny had gone down to the Quidditch pitch to tell the team there wouldn't be any practice. And, unless a miracle occurred, it was very likely that Hermione's plan to ensure he got to play one last Quidditch game would fail. Ginny had already been talking to Katie, asking her pinon if they needed to bring Dean back and have her sub in to play Seeker.

Hermione didn't stay for Harry to wake up. Instead she let herself disappear while the team converged in the corridor. Ron looked over and started to follow, but Hermione waved and muttered a brief "I'll see you in a bit."

Ron looked slightly crestfallen; but Katie Bell had brought him back into the conversation and any chance he would follow her evaporated.

The sun was setting, hitting the stained glass that cast its red glass on the western wall as though it was blood. Once she knew no one was watching her she stopped, leaned against the wall and sank to the floor. She rummaged through her bag that Luna had brought up when she had joined the well wishers earlier.

She pulled out the Half Blood Prince's book and she felt waves of disgust hit her. Not so much at the book, but at her. She had tried to give Harry one last game. Gamble he and Ginny coming together in the Common Room in the hope they might on the field. She had done all this and while it had a different outcome, he was still going to miss he game.

Dumbledore came to mind, something he had said about earlier in the year, talking about fixed points—was it possible that Harry missing that game was a fixed point? And then a certain chill hit her heart as she thought, not daring to actually ask least the universe over hear, was it possible that Fred dying was a fixed point too?

AN: It's been a while! And I had a free night and pumped out most of this chapter pretty quickly... so hopefully when I reread this after posting I won't have a "What was I thinking!?" moment.

So Hermione's taking the book caused a different outcome. How did Draco learn the spell? Theories? Quips? I welcome them all (and we'll answer those questions in coming chapters, fanfiction pinky swear.)

We are so close to leaving Hogwarts. I promise. Broken record but I promise. If i stick to my current post it note outline we're looking at two more chapters. And no one is more Happy than I am!

Don't worry, more Fred in the next Chapter. I promised a friend and poor guy needs more than 1k words to his credit.

Until next time, don't throw away your shot!

Kait Hobbit