Following her illuminating, awkward, and painful conversation with Neville, Hermione found herself missing her mother even more, something that before that moment she wouldn't have considered possible. What she wouldn't have given for her mum's talk on boys. She may have squirmed over the summer when the topic had been raised, but right now all she wanted was her mother's opinion. Hermione shut her eyes and tried to imagine the familiar soothing voice, the feeling of a delicate hand on her cheek, but the image wouldn't come.
The development was yet another thing she couldn't talk to her friends about; it wouldn't be fair to Neville. Hermione considered that she might be able to tell Luna, but even that felt like a betrayal of sorts. Ginny, as much as she loved her, was not used to keeping things to herself, having grown up in a house full of siblings, she didn't fully comprehend the absolute nature of a secret in the same way Luna would, and the boys were very much out of the question.
Hermione went out of her way in the weeks that followed to ensure that herself and Neville maintained their close friendship. While at the same time she accepted his wishes to stop studying together, and tried not to do anything that would make him believe she may have changed her mind. It was difficult, but she began to think she had found the right balance, she would not shy away from his company, and attempted, however ineptly, to uphold the status quo. Neville was important to her, and Hermione was sure that he would move on quickly, they weren't meant to be. She wasn't sure why she felt she knew that as resolutely as she did, it was just a feeling she had that radiated from her chest. She had heard Ginny say once that you didn't have to think a relationship would be forever to give it a chance, and Hermione agreed, in theory, but when it came to it, her heart didn't work that way.
Her resolve that Neville would move on was rewarded a month or so later, when sat at the breakfast table, trapped in her head, as usual, puzzling over the calorie content of Ron's breakfast in comparison to her own, and their relative body fats, which did not end in her favour, Hermione noticed Neville shyly returning Hannah Abbott's yearning looks from the Hufflepuff table. She had hoped that was a sign that everything would go back to normal with the boys in her life. Relations with Harry had quelled following their fight in the Astronomy Tower, his outbursts by this point were par for the course, though he had never been quite that angry with her before, and never in front of an audience, especially one that contained Ginny. Luna hadn't treated him any differently after she had put him in his place, though Harry had reported that in his Divination class, following the incident, Professor Trelawney had almost fallen over herself to give him the 'grave news' that one of her 'truly gifted' fifth years had predicted he would develop a severe case of spattergroit'.
But calm seas were not to be. As relations with Harry improved Hermione's friendship with Ron became combative. Ron had ostensibly picked up on there being something between her and Neville. Possibly only putting it all together when he saw them sitting in the abandoned classroom on the night of the Quidditch win. Hermione couldn't fault his typically unobservant behaviour; she hadn't noticed Neville's affections either.
Ron spent a lot of time carefully studying Hermione's face and appraising Neville through narrowed eyes. His glares never lasted long, lately, you could not see Ron for ten minutes together before Lavander appeared, acting like a bereaved widow, bemoaning her lived moments 'without her Won-Won'. Hermione's distaste for the spectacle made her question, again, if she was jealous. Her feelings for Ron had always been between friends and something more, but she didn't think she was. She had even taken back her earlier assertion that she wanted someone to want her like that, Ron and Lavender's 'want' for each other didn't seem overly hygienic. Though, as expected, Lavender was having a great time, talking about how perfect Ron was at any given opportunity, especially whenever Hermione was in earshot. It was evident that Lavender felt she had won some sort of victory over her. Normally Hermione would have let the pampered blonde's behaviour fly straight over the top of her head, but for some reason, Lavender's consistent attacks were beginning to grate, and Hermione was in real danger of losing her temper. So, when Cormac Mclaggen approached Hermione, two minutes after Lav Lav had made a spiteful remark about her hair, and asked her to attend Slughorn's Christmas Party with him, Hermione found herself saying; "Yes Cormac, I would love to."
His terribly smug expression dampened her spirits a little, and Neville's wide eyes made her want to swallow the words back up, but as Hermione turned and sat back in her seat to see a whole table of astonished faces and Lavender looking like she had swallowed several lemons, she decided it was worth it. Even if she was cutting off her nose to spite her face.
The evening of Slughorn's Party came around much quicker than Hermione wished. Ginny and Luna had both insisted on 'helping' her get ready, which all three of them knew meant she would be expected to shut up while the younger girls debated what to do with her appearance. Hermione wasn't normally given an opinion in these situations, as she had long ago been deemed clueless within the realms of fashion and beauty. Hermione found the assessment offensive, but sadly accurate, so having learnt her lesson at the Yule Ball she knew the easiest way to endure it, was to stop fighting against it.
Hermione couldn't settle on which part of the evening she was dreading most, being assisted by Ginny and Luna, or having to present herself to Cormac when the 'makeover' was complete, only for him to inevitably think she had spent ages getting ready to win his approval.
After two hours of being poked, prodded and assured that the dark blue silk wrap dress she had been coerced into purchasing, was not too low at the front, Hermione was unceremoniously pushed down the stairs.
She crossed the common room, a little unsteady on her kitten heels, and as she exited the portrait hole, Hermione tripped and tumbled into a waiting Cormac. Cheeks sufficiently pink at her display of clumsiness, she righted herself, eventually able to pull from his firm grasp to see him make a bit of a show of looking her up and down. On the right man, that move, Hermione imagined, could be relatively pleasing, but it looked a bit forced on Cormac, the overall effect was almost comedic rather than alluring, as she believed he had intended.
Cormac was taller than Hermione, standing just under six feet, he had wavy blonde hair that was cut short, though there was enough for it to be styled in a bed-head kind of way that she was sure was supposed to make him look carefree and tousled, however, was no doubt affected by many minutes in front of a mirror. He took her arm, and the students made their way down to the dungeons together.
Ginny was going along with Dean and Harry had invited Luna. Hermione was incredibly glad of the additional bodies as they made their way down the corridors. Cormac was attentive but not gallant, and she regularly found herself having to side step away from him to allow them to walk side by side more appropriately. Her only other experience of anything remotely date-like was with Viktor at the Yule Ball, and the Durmstrang student had been the perfect gentleman. Viktor had made Hermione feel small, safe and protected. Not that Cormac was rude or inattentive, far from it, but there was an ever-present little gleam in his eye that whispered of the quid pro quo he expected to be in force by the end of the night.
When they entered the party, Cormac sought out a corner to perch in, and Hermione was grateful to sit down, already bored of her shoes and having no desire to 'work the room'. An hour of talk later Hermione mused that in years to come when she looked back over her dating experiences the athletic blond would not go down as the best conversationalist that had ever lived, though he wasn't as bad as some people made out. Yes, all he wanted to talk about was Quidditch, and how great he was, or sometimes a combination of the both, like when Hermione got a whistle stop tour of The Greatest Saves in the Life of Cormac Mclaggen. In reality, though, he wasn't much different from any of the other boys she spent time with; Cormac treated her differently because, somewhere, underneath all the bluster, he must have thought this would impress her. While he was mistaken, and yes, he hadn't exactly taken the time to find out what she did like, Hermione was pretty sure as much as she loved Harry, he wouldn't have exactly made much better date. She subtly looked over her drink at Cormac who was still talking away and waving his arms animatedly, maybe Ginny had been right, it wasn't the boy, it was that he was a boy.
Hermione knew she was inexperienced compared to other girls in her year, it didn't bother her too much, but she couldn't help feeling like she was missing out on something. Luna was right, not that Hermione would ever admit it, she was a romantic at heart, though not in the hearts and flowers kind of way, she was too practical for that, but she believed in love. All Hermione desired from her future partner was someone that would love her, and put her needs first, at least occasionally. Not a blind love where they thought she was perfect, but someone who knew how flawed she was and loved her in spite of them or maybe even because of them.
When Cormac clumsily moved her under the mistletoe, behind a thick velvet curtain, Hermione didn't resist too greatly. She was sixteen and so far had never been that close to kissing. Viktor had been interested but hesitant, because of how much older he was, or maybe that had been an excuse?
Cormac's kissing, Hermione discovered, was a lot like his conversation, not particularly dependent on audience participation. After a little while of letting him be in control, she tentatively tried kissing him back, in for a penny she thought. Cormac immediately moaned in a guttural way that startled her before he moved both his hands to the small of her back, the touch instantly making her stiffen and open her eyes. When she raised her face she saw Neville looking at her through cold eyes. Hermione hadn't known he was invited, why was he here? Then she noticed the tray he was carrying; he must have been one of the students asked to come along to serve drinks and food, oh Merlin could she feel a bigger bitch at this moment?
Hermione turned away from Neville, not able to meet his gaze, and suddenly felt like she would rather be anywhere else in the world. She moved both her hands up to Cormac's shoulders to dislodge him from her mouth. The squelching pop they made as they wrenched apart made her wince, and she stepped back on shaky legs. "Sorry, Cormac I... I think it might be time for me to head to bed."
Hermione feared that he would protest, however, Cormac didn't look put off in the slightest by her making to run for it, if anything his expression was self-satisfied, his eyes were slightly dazed, and his lips were covered in her barely-there pink lipstick. She could just imagine him believing she had been so overwhelmed by his prowess she had to leave to get a hold of herself.
Hermione stumbled away from the dungeons, tears flowing freely from her eyes, why was it that her attempts at dating always ended like this?
Carrying her shoes in her shaking hands, Hermione made it back to her dorm and jumped in the shower, keen to wash away the evening, and the emotions surrounding Cormac and Neville that were clinging to her skin.
Once she had got out and dried her hair she pulled on the biggest, rattiest jumper she owned. The grey sweatshirt had been one of her dad's from his university days, fitting her almost like a dress. The lettering had begun peeling years ago, but it was one of the only things she had taken with her from her home. She hadn't washed it yet, even though it probably needed it, the faint smell of his aftershave that lingered did more than the shower had to comfort and calm her.
Pulling out a clean piece of parchment Hermione began writing a letter to her mum, a letter telling her everything about Neville, Ron, Harry and Cormac, a letter that covered what she would have told her if they were able to have that boy talk.
A letter she would never send, the first of what would be become many letters.
Once she was finished pouring herself into the paper, Hermione pushed the tear splashed parchment inside a book she had just finished and moved off her bed to hide it away at the bottom of her trunk. It wasn't something she wanted her dorm mates to find, under any circumstances. Rooting around she pulled out a t-shirt she had thought she'd lost and a couple of pieces of parchment fluttered to the floor. As Hermione absently reached for them she found she was looking at the school picture of Antonin Dolohov; she had almost forgotten she had taken it from the library. She stared at it for several seconds her fingers reaching forward until she shook herself, gathered up the parchment squares, and shoved them inside the same book, dropping it into her trunk, before harshly closing the lid.
The Christmas holidays were approaching again, and Hermione was keener than ever to get away from the castle, or at least, away from boys with red ties. Neville, for one, had been distinctly frosty with her over the last week, Hermione didn't blame him, but her empathy didn't make his hurt or disappointed glances any easier to bare. Ron was still almost surgically attached to Lavender and Harry was spending his time either shut away with his ridiculous potions book or brooding over Ginny, utterly ambivalent to Hermione's mounting issues.
Despite it already being early December Hermione had yet to make firm plans for what she was going to do. She received no invite from the Burrow, at first she had thought it was because Ron was unhappy with her, but then she had received an owl from Molly, apologising profusely, explaining that they didn't have space for her. Fleur would be with them in Ottery St Catchpole for Christmas, as well as Charlie, meaning the overrun house would be full to the rafters, quite possibly literally.
Hermione sent a missive back, attempting to ease Molly's obvious anxiety. It was all right, she had written, she intended to stay at Hogwarts and make a start on her Charms backlog, it was a fairly transparent lie, but it was better than admitting she was a little hurt. The feeling of being left out magnified when she settled into her bed that evening and overheard Lavender relaying in excited whispers to Parvati how she had been invited to the Burrow for Boxing Day dinner to 'meet the family'. Of course, the Weasley home being full or not hadn't affected Harry's invite; Hermione hated herself a little for the spiteful thought, deep down she knew if Molly was aware her parents were gone she would have made space for her.
So Hermione decided that staying at Hogwarts was the best thing to do, which was handy, as it was her only option. That was until Luna found out she had decided to stay. Her friend was determined to spend at least part of the holiday together but was unable to remain at the castle herself, as not going home would mean her father would be alone. Being an only child herself it was something that Hermione could understand, though she thought back with a wince at how many holidays she had missed with her parents without a thought for their happiness. Luna would accept no argument, not that Hermione gave her much of one, and the girls agreed she would stay for Christmas day and Boxing Day. Luna would have let her stay the whole break, but Hermione knew how important the alone time was for father and daughter, and didn't want to encroach too much.
Christmas at the Lovegood home turned out to be exactly what Hermione needed. From the moment she came through the floo into their mismatched kitchen she felt… not quite at home, but as near to it as it was possible for her to be right now.
While Hermione had felt happily distracted while at the Burrow at the end of summer, it was nothing to the soothing effect of being at Luna's home, especially seeing it transformed for the holidays. The decorations weren't like anything she had seen before; the whole house seemed to glow with luminous colour, as if fairy lights were hung in all corners. Except they weren't, nothing so pedestrian. Objects that Hermione had never seen littered every surface and the shiniest of silver paper stars hung from varying length cords, suspended from ceilings all over the house. The homemade element to the decorations added to the tactile feel of the setting, it felt so… real.
All three of them worked in the kitchen to put lunch together, using a clearly much-loved recipe book that Luna later explained had been her mother's. Hermione was dutifully delicate with the worn pages as she checked measurements and read little anecdotes scribbled into the margins that made her smile; 'add extra sugar for Xeno', 'make sure Luna stays out of the stuffing'. Something pieced together in her mind later, the wonky cut of the stars, the producing of a book when they must have known the recipes by heart and the empty chair at the table when dinner was eventually served. In an unspoken way, the Lovegood's made Pandora a part of their celebrations. Hermione wondered if it was things like this that Luna was referring to when she said she still saw her mother.
After lunch they sat in front of the fire, telling stories and opening presents, Hermione was overwhelmed by her pile, Xeno had apparently gone out to get her some additional things when he knew she would be a guest. She received a pair of warm flannel pyjamas, adorned with little purring cats, a huge bag of sweets and a nice quill set. Luna's present, as usual, was from the heart. She had made Hermione a homework and revision planner, but it was so much better than ones she had used before. Luna had worked on the book, embedding various charms that would set off alarms for assignment deadlines and colour coded timetables. It was the best gift Hermione had ever received.
Hermione hadn't been sure what to get for Xeno Lovegood; she had brought his present earlier in the year when she didn't know she would have to sit in front of him and explain it. With a small amount of trepidation, Hermione handed the large flat parcel over to him. "I wasn't sure what you would like, but this jumped out at me," she elucidated.
The gift was a considerable, hard backed, coffee table book of Muggle myths and legends, each with beautiful colour illustrations. As soon as he had unwrapped the simple paper it was evident she needn't have been concerned, Xeno looked absorbed from the moment he opened it and peppered Hermione with questions on some of the creatures featured for the rest of the day, The Loch Ness Monster was a particular source of interest. For Luna, Hermione had visited a jewellery shop that her dad always used to get her mother gifts. Though the owner had looked a little perplexed at the time, they happily took the order to create a pair of small silver earrings with radish charms hanging from them. At least these wouldn't rot.
Following a full day, the girls climbed into bed, both stuffed after too many biscuits and sweets. "Thank you for inviting me, I had the loveliest time," Hermione said as her head fell onto the fluffy purple pillows.
Luna smiled at her but then it faltered, "You know you can trust me don't you?" she asked quietly, with one of her all-knowing glances piercing Hermione's face.
"Of course," Hermione assured gently wondering where her friend was going with this.
"Hermione, what happened over summer? Where are your parents?" Hermione panicked for a second, her source of anxiety wasn't that Luna knew, her friend would never tell anyone, she was more concerned that she had revealed something while at Hogwarts, without meaning too. As her heart rate sped up, Luna reached forward and grabbed her hand.
"Hermione… Hermione," she shook her gently, to break her from her panic, "It's ok, no one knows, no one."
Hermione broke, completely, for probably the first time since the third year when she had been overdoing it with the time-turner, only that time she had been alone. Her leaking tears quickly became sobs and Luna moved to sit, resting Hermione's head on her lap. It took a long time to get all of the words out, those that made it passed Hermione's raw throat and racking sobs were thick and muffled, though Luna seemed to hear all she imparted without apparent difficulty. She told her everything about the notes , Professor Snape's unexpected arrival and assistance. The only detail omitted was where she had sent her parents, but that was more for her friend's safety than any lack of trust.
"Do you think they will ever forgive me?" Hermione asked in a tiny voice, it was a question she had heard in her mind a thousand times, yet it seemed so much graver when she spoke the words aloud.
Luna raised her hand and to stroke Hermione's unruly curls. "You can't focus on that now, when faced with a fork in your path you can only make your choice based on what you know at the time. You made the best decision you could, you picked the harder path, but you did it for them. Some would say that intentions matter as much as actions."
Hermione was quiet for a while, enjoying the feeling of having released some of the pressure that had been building since the beginning of the term. "Who do you think sent the other note?" she asked finally when she had calmed down sufficiently. "I don't know any Death Eaters, I didn't know Professor Snape was one, well a proper one, until that night."
"Well, that's not strictly true," Luna said thoughtfully, her gaze fixed outside of the window, "we met quite a few that night at The Department of Mysteries."
"I'm not sure having a wand pointed at you counts as meeting someone," Hermione countered.
"I'm not so sure, with the kind of passionate person you are, pointing a wand at someone, or having it pointed at you, could lead to a love affair." Hermione snorted, but her heart wasn't really in it. Was that true? That didn't sound particularly stable; she attempted to calculate how many times over the years she had threatened her friends, either magically or physically... oh, wow this might be a problem.
Luna leant over her while Hermione was lost in thought. "It couldn't have been anyone there, though, it must be someone else," she reasoned.
"But who?" Hermione asked, she had repeatedly drawn a blank herself, it wasn't as if she was on friendly terms with a whole bunch of Death Eaters.
Luna paused, her fingers stilling in Hermione's hair. "If they wanted to warn you, they wanted to keep you safe, and I doubt we will make it through this year without getting into some trouble of some kind. I'm assuming they will pop again before long."
Hermione fell asleep clutching Luna's offered hand with no resolution in her mind as to whether or not that thought was a comforting one.
The Christmas break and time around people she loved had gone a long way to lifting Hermione's spirits. She had got back to the castle on Boxing Day, despite protests from Luna and Xeno, and planned to spend the last few days of blissful quiet, in the library, adding to her new planner.
The second day that she was there, sprawled out like she owned the place, even more so than usual, Cormac appeared. Hermione hadn't been aware he was staying over for the holidays, vaguely recalling that he usually went home, seeing as his family was based not far from the castle.
With a politeness she wasn't used to from him, he asked to join her and Hermione, finding no reason to refuse, accepted. Without an audience, she found Cormac a lot more engaging. He seemed more interested in a two-way discussion, and he did not regularly stop to glance around the room to see if anyone was looking at them. They discussed their recent breaks and even his current love for the Charms syllabus. Though when he asked Hermione to the next Hogsmeade weekend, she respectfully told him that she was going to be spending the next term focusing on her school work. He took it well, very well in fact, after only a few minutes he was asking about whether or not Ginny was available. Boys.
All too soon for Hermione's comfort, the students returned, and after an early breakfast on the day the Express was due, Hermione went to hide, with her books, in an abandoned classroom. Several hours passed without her realising and as such it was mid-afternoon before the door opened interrupting her solitude.
"How did you find me?" Hermione asked without thinking, inadvertently revealing that she had been hiding. Harry rather sheepishly lifted the worn folded parchment that she knew was the Marauder's Map. "Oh," she replied weakly, feeling more than a little embarrassed.
"Yeah, I wanted to see you, kind of realised we haven't had a proper chat in a while, but couldn't find you anywhere so had to resort to the map," he said, lifting it again before pushing the folded parchment into his robes and rocking on his feet awkwardly. "So how are you?"
"I'm fine, thanks Harry, how was your holiday?" she asked with a sort of stiff cordiality that she usually reserved for her great Aunt, a woman that she disliked immensely.
"It was loud, everyone kind of on top of each other, you know what it's like?" he said, running a hand up the back of his neck. Harry looked uncomfortable, but his face had broken into a small grin when she had asked, some amazing memory no doubt, Hermione thought a little bitterly.
"Yes, I suppose I do," she replied coolly.
"Err, so how was yours? You stayed here and then the Lovegoods on Christmas day?"
Hermione dropped her quill and sat back in her chair. "It was nice, different but nice," she answered honestly. The atmosphere between them felt cumbersome and unnatural, she knew it was pointless carrying on like this, but she didn't know what to say. She and Harry both loved each other, though she was sure he would never admit as much, that said, neither of them were particularly adept at social situations. In a way that's where Ron helped. Not that he was a great relationship navigator, but he tended just to ignore any and all convention and just bulldozed right through it.
"Look, I hope you didn't well… I don't want you to feel left out… I didn't think about it till I was away but well… I'm sorry," Harry stuttered out, not making eye contact.
"Ok Harry," Hermione said finally, she wasn't sure if she meant it, not totally, but she didn't want to fight with him either, and he looked so relieved at her small reassurance that she resolved to try her best to push the hurt that lingered aside.
"You should see what Ron got for Christmas from Lavender," Harry said with a wicked smile, clearly trying to direct the conversation onto a lighter hearted topic, "It's amazing."
Hermione didn't have to wait long to see the aforementioned gift; she was at breakfast the next day when Ron entered, it was the first time she had seen him since before the holidays, mainly by design, after her conversation with Harry she hadn't returned to the common room till rather late. Ron had a necklace on, visibly placed on the outside of his poorly button school shirt, the chain was made from a heavy gold with the word sweetheart suspended from the chunky links. It was a while before Hermione realised she was staring.
"What is it? Oh," Ron asked looking down before he interpreted the direction of HErmione's gaze and instantly stiffened. "Gift from Lavender... What, what do you think?" he asked wincing slightly as if expecting a cruel blow.
"It's-" Hermione willed herself to be a nice person and discounted the first five responses that jumped into her mind. "It's lovely Ron. She must... really like you," she managed though the words felt like they coated her tongue. She'd save her giggles for Ginny later, after all, she was trying to be nice, not a saint.
All thoughts of turning over a new leaf and attempting kindness evaporated when Hermione saw Ron's prone form lying unconscious in the Hospital Wing. Hermione had spent far too much time viewing her friends in this way, pale, cold and lifeless. Hermione could feel rage building within her. Hermione had a sudden flash of her being a parent, Merlin she would be a nightmare if something like this happened to a child of hers. Almost as if there was something to Divination after all, that thought was immediately followed by the appearance of a harassed-looking Molly, clattering through swing doors, Professor Snape following quickly behind, he must have been called in case a potion was required like he had been after the fiasco at the Ministry.
The matriarch went to the other side of the bed from Hermione and grabbed Ron's other hand. "What happened?" she asked as she slumped into the chair.
Harry, who had been standing at the end the bed in something of a daze, Ginny and Luna on each side of him like book ends, filled them in about the love potion in the chocolates that morning, and the poisoned drink in Professor Slughorn's office. The story sounded so fantastical but in a school where an ancient beast, a maniacal government official, and a possessed teacher had already tried to kill them what was a normal term?
The doors swung open again, but none of the figures locked in the bedside vigil made any sign they had even heard it, until the person came to a screeching halt at the end of the bed. "Ron," a shrill voice called out, the noise reminiscent of nails dragging down a chalkboard.
Lavender Brown looked terrible. Hermione considered that she had never once thought that before, the girl was usually immaculate all the time, but not right them. Her hair was coming out of its ponytail, her face was red and blotchy, and she didn't have a single glittery, flouncy or juvenile accessory attached to her in anyway..
Lavender gripped the end, of the bed her fingers biting into the cold metal, and her eyes left her boyfriend's face for a second to fall on where his hand was grasped between Hermione's, her eyes hardened as she looked up at the brunette. Hermione's first instinct was to bristle and hold onto her place; she was his friend, she deserved to be here as much as Lavender did, more so. But before she could puff herself up she deflated, entirely, something Hermione had seen in the other girls face when she came in, the hurt that was clear as day. Maybe there were more to Lavender's feelings than she had given her credit for? Either way, this was no longer her place.
Hermione turned back to look at Ron and squeezed his hand slightly, "I'll be back later" she muttered, almost under her breath, and stood to leave the ward, not noticing the astonished faces of Lavender and her friends or that Professor Snape had fallen silently into step beside her.
"I hadn't expected I would live to see you back down from any situation, Miss Granger," he drawled.
Hermione started slightly, having not expected his voice, or the nature of his comment, she paused her steps and looked up, the professor's face was its usual expressionless mask before he raised an eyebrow at her. She wasn't sure if it was in challenge or with amusement.
"I wasn't backing down," she defended quietly, he may have helped her when she needed it, but that didn't make her any more confident speaking around him. "I was stepping aside, I think, not out of the picture... just maybe, not in its centre anymore." His eyes flashed with a look of surprise, but she had no desire to continue the conversation at that moment, feeling as she did. Hermione averted her eyes and with a quick muttered, "Sir," walked away in the direction of the Tower.
Once Ron had been released from the Hospital Wing relations between the three friends reverted to much more affable ground. Seeing Ron in that state, knowing how wrong things could have gone made Hermione regret some of her behaviour towards him in the last few weeks. True, he could be a royal pain, but he was still part of her life, and if Lavender made him happy so be it. Lavender had also thawed towards Hermione slightly, they were hardly up at night swapping gossip and braiding each other's hair, but there had been considerably less glaring. All in all, Hermione was confident that with several years practise she could enjoy dinner at their home without chewing her arm off in frustration. Maybe.
She had also reluctantly agreed with Harry that Draco was likely involved in the incident that had seen Ron hurt, somehow. What the Slytherin was trying to achieve she didn't know, while Harry maintained his evil motivations Hermione was less certain. She had only been convinced of his entanglement due to the sloppy nature of the plans that had been carried out. No true Death Eater would have been so careless, though she knew Draco was intelligent, Hermione couldn't settle on whether the mistakes were attributable to his lack of experience or whether it was an indicator that his heart wasn't in it.
Having moved passed a lot of the friction between them, the trio began to spend a little more time together. That morning Harry had asked them to go outside, considering the unpleasantness of the weather Hermione assumed the location had been picked for privacy, so it was with some trepidation that she sought out blankets and school books to take down to the lake. The day was one of the last real frosts, where you could see the hope of spring breaking through winters choke hold on the castle grounds.
Hermione and Ron remained totally silent as Harry told them everything about his private lessons with Dumbledore. She had been told snippets before but never everything, and as Dumbledore had only just made it clear to Harry what the purpose of the repeated trips into the Pensieve were for she wouldn't have been expected to put it together before now.
Her mind ticked over, cataloguing the information on Voldemort's family, the task to get Professor Slughorn's memory and how he had now seen it. It took a while for all of the information to sink in. When it did the only thing she could register was fear. Voldemort was a half-blood? He created Horcruxes? What the bloody hell is a Horcrux? Even without knowing everything Hermione knew it was all going to change, everything Professor Snape had said to her as they stood equidistant in the sunrise came flooding back. 'The world around us is on the cusp of becoming very dark again Miss Granger'.
"Dumbledore believes this is what will help us win, finally win, get rid of him altogether. I think this is going to be my task next year," Harry imparted gravely.
"Our task," Ron and Hermione said together, she didn't miss how Harry looked unconvinced, but they would work on that, this shouldn't have been his responsibility, but she was damn certain he wasn't going to undertake it alone.
Hermione was awoken from dreams by what sounded like knocking on the dormitory door, at first she was sure she had misheard, but then the noise sounded again, clearer this time, as her mind was pulled from slumber. Lavender snuffled but made no other sound to indicate she had fully woken up, and Hermione wiped the sleep from her eyes roughly with the sleeve of her oversized pyjamas and went to the door.
Harry was standing in the corridor, looking worse than she had ever seen him, he resembled a ghost his skin was so pale, dirty tear tracks ran down his cheeks, his clothes were soaking, and covered in what looked like dirt and was that blood? His expression was so weirdly vacant for a moment Hermione thought he had been cursed.
"Mione," he managed, before he doubled over, crumpling as if he would fall straight to the ground. Reacting as quickly as she could, she tried to break his fall, he was a lot broader than her, so she managed to cushion him more than catch him, but it was better than a direct impact would have been. His face had taken on a faint green tinge, and so Hermione half dragged him through the girl's dorm until she got him into the bathrooms where he was sick, a lot. She needed to get him out of there, Lavender and Parvati going into hysterics at there being a boy in the dorm would not help whatever serious situation this was. Once Harry appeared to have nothing left to bring up, she stood with him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and began the slow progress to the sixth year boy's dorm. Hermione had briefly contemplated getting a Professor, but something told her not to. After getting him through the door without disturbing the slumbering boys, she sat him on what must have been his bed and moved as quietly as her panting breath would allow to Ron's side.
After a considerable amount of time shaking him, Ron opened his eyes, clearly ready to launch an attack at whoever had disturbed him, though when he registered it was her Ron sat bolt upright in bed. "Mione, what are you doing here?" he said, far too loudly.
"Shhh… Ron, it's Harry, I don't know what's wrong, but he needs a shower and some fresh clothes," she gestured to Harry, sat in his bed and the accusing look fell off Ron's face when he registered the state of his friend, morphing into a look of determination.
"What the hell happened?" he asked, much more quietly this time
"I have no idea, he just turned up at my dorm like this, can you take him?"
Ron nodded gravely, his eyes not leaving Harry as he jumped up from his bed. "Come on mate," he said gently laying a hand on Harry's shoulder, "let's get you showered, yeah?"
Ron moved Harry with a great deal more ease than Hermione had been able, and disappeared into the corridor that led off to the boy's bathrooms. Once she could no longer hear their progress Hermione felt quite awkward in the dorm and contemplated leaving, but Harry had come to her door first, she needed to make sure he was alright before she left.
What felt like hours later Ron re-emerged, still part dragging Harry, he looked a little better though he was still so unresponsive she and Ron had to practically dress him in his night clothes. Once Hermione had pulled the covers over Harry's shoulders she kissed his cheek and made to leave, but as she stepped away from the bed, his arm jerked out and gripped her desperately.
"Please stay," he pleaded. Harry's voice was so raw it reminded Hermione of the night in the Hospital Wing, after Sirius had died, and she knew she wouldn't be able to say no, no matter the number of rules she was breaking. She nodded slowly and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and Harry immediately shifted, in movements minutes ago she wouldn't have thought him capable of and pulled her under the covers, so quickly she only just suppressed a squeak of surprise. Hermione settled in front of him, their heads facing each other, and she could just make out his blank face in the darkness. After long minutes he shuffled forward and gripped both of her hands tightly, his grasp almost at the point of painful.
"I did something bad," Harry muttered into her ear, his words sounding so childlike. "Malfoy and me, he was in a bathroom… I saw him, we shouted at each other, then I sent a spell that I had seen in that potions book," Hermione felt ice grip her heart, what had happened?
Harry breathed in a ragged breath. "It was bad… He… Malfoy he… collapsed, there was blood everywhere, Snape found us… he knew the countercurse but he… it was so bad and there was so much blood and I… and I thought I'd killed him."
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, was all Hermione could think on a loop. If Professor Snape was there and he had somehow managed not to kill Harry then Malfoy must be ok… or at least would be.
Hermione removed her hands from Harry's death grip and hugged him very tight, soon his breathing evened out, and she pulled away slightly. She locked eyes with Ron across the room, his face reflected the horror she felt, Hermione knew Harry needed comfort right now, but when he had calmed down, she was going to shake the crap out of him for being so bloody stupid.
Hermione woke up before any of the boys the next day, a miracle as she had barely slept. Retreating to her room for a shower and a quick change of clothes she made up her mind to seek out Ginny, as the lesser of the two uncomfortable meetings she had to complete that day. That she had woken up in Harry Potter's bed was likely to be all around Gryffindor Tower by lunchtime, Ginny had a fiery temper, and was very liable to hex first and ask questions later. Though Hermione was confident Ginny understood the platonic nature of her friendship with Harry, the redhead had been in love with him since her first year, and that did funny things to people.
Seeing her in the common room Hermione let out a sigh of relief before tugging Ginny out of the castle and down to the Herbology Greenhouses; nobody needed to overhear this conversation. As the girl's sat in the damp, dewy grass Hermione told her all about what had happened the night before, leaving nothing out. Harry might not be happy with her for doing so but whether he would admit it or not he needed Ginny's support. Despite looking slightly uncomfortable during parts of the monologue, Ginny kept quiet until the end.
"Thank you for telling me," she whispered, her fingers twiddling through blades of grass.
Hermione smiled and gripped one of her hands, "I hope you understand Ginny, nothing would ever happen between me and Harry, he's like my brother."
"I know," Ginny confirmed quietly, "I... I broke up with Dean," she admitted, staring at her knees
"Okay," Hermione said, drawing out the word for a long time, "Do you think it's time now?"
"Maybe, I think he's waited enough... and maybe so have I."
Hermione nodded, "There was another reason I told you all this," she admitted.
"Why's that?" Ginny asked, looking back at her thoughtfully.
"I need you to get that book from him, and get rid of it. I thought you would be able to explain better than I could about that sort of thing," Hermione elaborated gently, they didn't speak about Tom Riddle's diary, but if anyone could understand her concerns, it would be Ginny.
The younger girl looked very sombre for a moment but nodded, a hint of determination flashing across her face and Hermione knew she had given this task to the right person. Harry would have waved off her own apprehension, but he would listen to Ginny. Or rather, Ginny would make him listen.
Hermione was a lot less confident as she stood outside the dungeon classroom, wearing a near hole in her bottom lip. She wasn't sure if Professor Snape would be here, he had office hours, like all the other teachers, but when it came to the Gryffindors, Hermione was fairly certain they were hypothetical. Giving herself a little shake she knocked on the door and waited for his silky drawl to bid her enter.
She moved into the room silently, and considered shutting the door behind her but thought better of it; she may have to make a hasty retreat. When Professor Snape finally looked up from his pile of marking he didn't display any surprise at her sudden appearance, despite her never having visited his offices before, well, when he was there. Instead, he scoffed a little, and she assumed he was about to make a caustic remark, but under the circumstances, she couldn't blame him.
"Does it ever bother you, Miss Granger, that you are the only one of them with a conscious?"
Hermione winced slightly but caught it before she would give away how close his words had hit. He may have been an absolute bastard, most of the time, but he was an accurate one, for the most part. "I wondered if I might ask how Malfoy was, Sir?"
"And you came to me?" he questioned, putting down his quill and steepling his fingers in front of him on the desk.
She nodded, "I wasn't sure the Hospital Wing was advisable, it was unlikely that I would have been welcome, especially after… last night."
"How much do you know?" Professor Snape asked coldly, and Hermione looked up to meet his eyes.
"Enough I... Sir, I wanted to apolo-"
"- don't," he sighed, cutting her off and raising his hands in front of himself to stress the command. "Mr Malfoy will be fine, albeit scarred, permanently, but fine. You can leave the room with your little Gryffindor conscious clear."
Hermione wanted to rail against him, shout at the absurdity of him attacking her, but she didn't. The night before he'd had to save one of his students from a potentially fatal wound and they both knew the likelihood of anything drastic happening to Harry was slim to none.
"Thank you, Sir," she said eventually, backing towards the door. "Thank you for your time."
Later that afternoon, Hermione watched with a wistful smile as Harry and Ginny entered the portrait hole together, holding hands somewhat shyly. They bumped shoulders awkwardly and Hermione bit back a giggle at the blush that covered both their cheeks. Considering the state he had been in the night before Harry looked so blissfully happy. Ron began to make noises of protest beside her, but Hermione kicked him.
"Ron I am incredibly tired, I do not have my normal capacity to give you an impassioned speech, so I'm just going to give you the main points and ask that you fill in the blanks yourself. Coming for ages, practically adults, we're about to go to war, none of your business and finally, we have all had to be in the front row to a lot worse scenes from you and Lavender, so button it."
Ron opened and closed his mouth several times but eventually pushed himself back in his chair crossing his arms grumpily over his chest. Hermione looked back over to the fledgeling couple and locked eyes with Ginny who gave her a tiny nod from across the room. Well, at least that was one thing taken care of.
This time there were no bangs, crashes or explosions. The second breakout of Azkaban was almost sedate in comparison to the elaborate fanfare of the first. Antonin supposed that made sense, the breakout in the first instance had been about display, one army's demonstration of reach and power. None of that was necessary now.
Antonin was lying on his cot in a position he had perfected over his near decade and a half of prison experience when a loud pop sounded in the cell, and Yaxley appeared, dusting off his large coat in the middle of the box. Antonin stared at him, unblinkingly, he knew it was entirely possible that his friend was in fact there, though he wasn't sure he completely trusted himself to hope.
"Love what you've done with the place," Reuben remarked dryly, eyeing the crumbling brickwork with disdain before throwing some warm clothing at Antonin's chest.
"Right, let's get the niceties out of the way, shall we? I am Reuben Yaxley, I have known you since you were eleven, unbelievably I am standing in this cell, and it's time to go, this time through the front door," he rattled off never breaking eye contact.
Real then Antonin accepted, he may have known the man most of his life, but he could never have imagined his blasé attitude so completely in a hallucination.
Antonin looked at his friend, "Before you ask, I don't think I'm any madder than when you last saw me," he rasped.
Yaxley smirked at him disbelievingly, "That's debatable, the last time I saw you, you were headed off to an easy mission at the Ministry, and the next I knew an envelope was being dropped inside my robes."
"How is she?" Antonin asked as he pulled himself off the cot trying to ignore the way his knees screamed in protest.
"Who?" Reuben asked impassively though his eyes shone with amusement.
"Don't play with me," Antonin growled. He had thought of almost nothing but her since he had been put back in this hole. The letter to Yax had been his last ditch attempt to right his wrong, the only power he could exercise to try and see her protected, till he could come back to do it himself.
"Please, Antonin," Reuben replied unconcerned, "you've been in a cell for months, you're physically diminished, and you have no wand. At least make sure you're properly dressed before you start threatening people, especially me, and anyway I'm offended, shouldn't you be asking how I am, you ungrateful wanker?"
Definitely Yaxley, Antonin thought with exasperation.
Antonin levelled a hard glance at him, and Reuben sighed. "She's fine, well, she's alive, though it was touch and go for a while, the girl attracts trouble," he said without rebuke in his tone, For men like them that was hardly a criticism, of course she attracted trouble, she had attracted him.
"How close has she come?" Antonin asked hesitantly, anything that had happened would have been his fault, he should have been able to protect her.
"Pretty close once so far, there is another plan, she isn't the target, but she will be there. We need to catch up."
Antonin nodded. Here we go again.