Animus: Quest for a Brave Heart

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling earns her credit. This is hers, scene manipulation is mine.

'The phoenix hope, can wing her way through the desert skies, and still defying fortune's spite; revive from ashes and rise.' -- Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra.

...

4: Loyalty

The common room is busier than usual. But, I reason to myself, today is a Friday and the Quidditch game verses Slytherin is tomorrow. Unintentionally, I note that Oliver is talking adamantly to Lee, Fred and George. Their hands swing about, making signs and symbols about balls, goalposts and players to do with only one thing: Quidditch. I feel a thrill when I notice he is clutching Godsend. Ginny is on a couch, twisted around to look at her brothers, smiling bemusedly. Neville is reading a Herbology book by her side.

And there is Harry, sitting at a table near the fire and talking to Ron with their heads bent over yet another game of Wizard's Chess. Ron is, predictably, winning. I approach them, unwilling to let the constant tension with Ron ruin my relationship with Harry, and kneel down on the red carpet, facing the side of the chessboard. I can feel Ron's glare, I grit my teeth and will myself not to snap at him. I turn to Harry as he raises his dark head. 'Harry. Can I talk to you?'

He has every right to reject it, saying that Ron and I are children, that we should not be keeping secrets. I agree, we should be open and that is why I tell myself that now is the time to let Harry in and stay true to our friendship. I hope that is why he is nodding, albeit the curious, confused look filling his green eyes as to why the separation from Ron. I hope he realises that it is because I think Ron is a black vulture with me set to be his mate for life, angry and accusing philandering with any 'hot-blooded male' that comes my way. Harry must realise that Ron is imaging feasting on Oliver's dead carcass and locking me in a cage for eternity. I am rather bitter, I realise suddenly. Thank you Oliver. Thank you Fred and George. You have my gratitude.

Harry stands and follows me as I walk with stiff steps out of the common room and through the corridor to a secluded part of the stairway. Hearing them creaking behind me as I turn to face him does not make me feel any better. 'Hermione?' asks Harry, obviously concerned. 'What is it?'

I take a breath. 'I have something to tell you.'

'Oh, good,' he says in a whoosh, as if a burden has dropped from his shoulders, 'because I have something to tell you.' I look at him as he smiles lopsidedly, and wonder if it is bad and if he has told Ron. 'But you can go first.'

Harry thinks he is awarding me a favour.

On my return from the library, my brilliant mind deduced that there are only two possible ways to tell Harry, which is something I simply must do, whilst keeping a small piece of my credibility attached. One: put on a poker face, get straight to the point and ignore all subsequent disbelief. Two: live up to the fact that I am a sixteen-year-old girl full of hormones and unresolved sexual tension, complete with mind-numbing fantasies, and spill my guts to the fifteen-year-old boy who, to my knowledge, is in the same predicament, whilst all the while squashing down the inevitable desire to run away in hysterics.

Considering I cannot play poker to save my life, let alone integrity, I have no choice but to go with deduction two. Surely Harry, sweet, innocent, boy-who-lived, fellow adolescent Harry, can understand?

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I start to speak. 'Oliver-Wood-makes-me-go-all-a-flutter-and-I-have-to-tell-you-this-because-the-mavolent-twins-are-forcing-me-and-Ron-is-a-jealous-git-who-is-threatening-to-tell-you-instead-and-I-think-you-should-hear-it-from-me-instead-of-him-because-I-want-to-keep-my-integrity.'

I hang my head, feeling my cheeks burn and take a large gulp of air. Harry will understand my Firebolt speech. He will.

'What?'

He does not and he will not and cannot. I desperately fight the urge to flee to the bathrooms. Maybe I just have to wait.

'I didn't catch all that.'

Damn it!

Raising my head a notch to peek through my mane of bushy brown hair, I see no dawn of comprehension, but a very large stamp of confusion covering his face. 'I… Oh, Harry. Please don't make me say it again.'

Harry sighs. 'Hermione, I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong.'

'It's not wrong, exactly... no, not at all,' I suddenly wish Fred and George were here. They're not here to save you. Suck it up, Granger, I scold myself. 'All right…' I swallow and stare into his confused green eyes. 'Harry, I like Oliver Wood.'

It seems so easy now I have said it.

'Well, yes... I like him too. What's so special about that?' He is clearly bewildered and I sigh. No wonder he couldn't get a real date for the Yule Ball. His ignorance spurs me on and I nod patiently, trying to ignore the blush once again creeping up my neck.

'No, Harry. I – er – I fancy him.'

'Yes, but… oh… Oh!' There it is: the dawning of comprehension. I breathe a sigh of relief, glad that it is over. Now, next step to bravery is to tell the boy in question…

But Harry's green eyes are gleaming with something I cannot place. 'Harry?'

'I'm glad you said that,' he says, his messy, long raven hair swishing slightly as he bends his head in a slow nod. 'I'm really glad you said that.'

'Why?'

'Lost aren't you?' I am helpless but to think he gains satisfaction at my confusion, but I know it is a kind of sibling rivalry. 'Well, it's about what I had to tell you. I kind of disappeared during training yesterday. Not sure if you noticed…'

'Yes, I did notice. Angelina didn't.'

He grins, leaning casually against the wall, 'Not Oliver?' I blush, just as he intended, and shake my head and quickly divert his attention.

'So, where did you go?' His own cheeks gain a tinge of pink. I immediately understand. I grin, and say, 'A girl, yes?'

'Well, what else, a boy?' I shake my head, chuckling at his defensiveness. He continues, shifting so that his back is against solid wall and kicks the stone with his feet, 'I flew off to meet her at the astronomy tower. Rather handy for a rendezvous. All you have to do is fly in.'

'You're avoiding it, Harry.'

'And you weren't?'

'Touché,' I say, grinning back. 'So, did you kiss her?'

His head shoots up, and his face turns beet-red. 'Hermione!'

'Well, did you?'

'Fred and George are a bad influence on you. I should have stopped those troublemakers years ago.' I nod, deciding against a retort. 'And no, I didn't. It's a… complicated relationship. I'm not sure where we stand.'

He stops and I stubbornly prompt him, 'Does she have a name?' I know her name, from the last Hogsmeade visit. Fred and George really are a bad influence on me.

Harry's green eyes regard me for a minute, searching for something. I am glad he finds it. 'Cho… I was meeting Cho Chang.'

I smile slightly, but then frown.

To say I am apprehensive is an understatement and I fail quite miserably to hide it. She is still struggling with her grief for Cedric's death, sometimes in the bathrooms, crying her eyes out, or in the hallways where her cheeks always seem too red for someone with pale skin.

'I know!' Harry suddenly starts pacing, running his hands through his thick hair, 'You're really good at feelings and stuff, Hermione, and I'm not. I know she's so cut up about Cedric's death. I am too. I saw him die, Hermione! But I can't help it… she's just… she's…'

'Like summer rain?' I ask tentatively, watching as he stops and his jaw falls slack and fists unclench as he nods.

'Yeah…' he whispers, staring at me as if he is seeing me for the first time. 'That's it: like summer rain.'

Harry animatedly relays all about how her hair is very shiny and her skin flawless with his eyes glazed over and dreamy expression on his face for a good ten minutes before I can get a word in. By now, I do not really feel worthy to walk the same corridor as the perfect Cho Chang, let alone think I have a chance at my own relationship, and almost irritably interrupt his gushing. 'Does Ron know?' I ask.

He stops abruptly with his hands frozen in mid air, up to the point of describing her straight teeth, and says, 'Well… actually, no he doesn't. I should tell him, shouldn't I?'

I nod from my place against the stone balustrade, replying, 'Friendship equals loyalty equals honesty. But I suppose saying that makes me a hypocrite.'

Harry laughs lightly. 'So that was it? Okay... Anyway, thanks for listening, Hermione, you're a great friend. Don't know how Oliver resists you.'

My voice turns bitter as I look away and mumble, 'I've got a pretty good idea.'

'Nah, Hermione,' Harry says, reaching forward to grasp my arm, smiling. 'Don't be so hard on yourself. You're brilliant.'

I shake my head at his gestures, wondering how Harry can deter Dark Lords and be so blind to the truth behind everyone's façade. 'Well I'm not feeling very brilliant. Tired actually: confessions are rather draining. Still, I promised the twins I'd help them with their potion.' It is not lying. It is the truth… just not the whole truth. I struggle to contain it.

'Sure. I think they're helping you with more than that.' I drop my gaze further and know Harry has caught on. Oh, I think, not so blind after all. 'Come on, you can tell me on the way back.'

There he is; ever understanding Harry. I convey to him the real reason why the twins and I are inseparable lately, even more than before, and why I cannot be so focused on my studies. I am proud of myself for not gushing… much. Harry laughs at this truth in a good humoured way that I am profoundly grateful for. 'You should talk to Ron about tomorrow. He's not feeling very confident, is he?' I add as we come to the Fat Lady.

'No,' Harry admits, then he smiles, 'Having a lot of these deep and meaningfuls, aren't we? Animus.'

Ron is gone when we arrive back. I share a look with Harry, watch as he trudges slowly up the boy's stairs, obviously practicing an apology, and stand still, simply hoping he will remember a silencing charm and save me a headache.

My eyes scan the thinning crowd. Oliver has left again. Seamus, Dean, Padma and Parvati are talking in low voices over a table, a few first years yawn in the squashy armchairs and some are even curled up on the lounges while a few third years look on and shake their heads. Ginny and Neville are kicking their heels up on the coffee table, which I personally think is rather disrespectful even if it is Ginny and Neville, talking and laughing about something. The beautiful Weasley throws her head back over the pillows with her silky mane of vivid, flaming red hair fanning out behind, and her laughter shines. Then I catch sight of Fred, George and Lee talking seriously, standing near the noticeboard and frowning at each other. They look like they are having an argument so I do not disturb them.

Sighing slightly, just about dead on my feet from a day full of classes and attacking butterflies, I walk over to Ginny and bend my head over so she can see me, careful to catch my mass of hair as it falls. 'Gin, can you tell Fred and George I'll talk to them later? I'm really tired.' She looks at me with her bright brown eyes, completely puzzled. 'They'll understand. When they say goodnight, tell them goodnight from me too.' Ginny nods, wrinkles her nose and freckles in goodnight to give me a laugh. I simply smile, wave to Neville and trudge upstairs again. I hope Lavender is not snoring too loud. I hope she stays asleep.

Tonight I feel like sin.

-x-x-x-

The common room's light blinds me as I make my way down the steps at ten in the evening, grumbling to myself. I am cursing the fact I cannot sleep properly because of Ron. I curse the fact I care so much, even though he was particularly nasty. I curse the fact that I am cold in my blue dressing gown and my hair is knotted and I cannot remove my thoughts from the boys of my world.

Then I discover I am not the only one awake and I curse that too. I halt by the door.

Ron Weasley sits on the couch near the fire, his arm across its back and freckled hand cradling a glass of water, silent as the dead. I stop to watch him stare into the flames to see if he will notice and clutch my gown tighter around my body when he does not. I grasp the sash in my hand and pull and think that I have had enough of this argument. I know why he did it and why he always fights.

Ron is loyal to a fault. He always wants solid proof that his friends are safe in what they are dealing with and if he thinks he is right, he will never, ever apologise. In this instance, I think that he knows this is different.

His tired voice makes me jump. 'You can come over, Hermione,' he says, lolls his red head over the couch's back and waits. Slowly, cautiously and tentatively, I make my way over, scuffing my slippers on the ground so he knows where I am. I stop in front of him. He is wearing the maroon Weasley jumper he always claims to hate, frowning. 'Have a seat. I won't bite.'

I sit on the couch next to him, my back straight and shoulders square. 'Ron? Ron, I'm—'

'Don't say you're sorry,' he interrupts, still staring into the fire. I frown in confusion. 'We always go through this and you always apologise. This time, I'll admit that I was…' His jaw clenches. 'That I was wrong.' I smile, and my eyes begin to shine. I bite my lip in an attempt to hide my glee. He looks quickly at me. 'Go ahead and enjoy your win while I try and get this out. Have a field day. I tell you, Wood's a nice bloke and all, but if he tries anything I'll beat him up.'

'Ron!' I admonish, shoving his shoulder.

'Just telling it like it is, Hermione. Speak for yourself. We all protect what's ours, don't we?' I nod at that and he looks the other way, swirling the water. 'I mean… You… I'm just… just…'

'Scared?'

'No—sort of—well, yeah,' Ron finally admits. I fold my legs underneath me and put a hand on his arm. He refuses to meet my gaze and continues, 'Scared of losing you, any of you. We're always fighting, you're going off with boys, reminding me you really are a girl, and Harry's… well, Harry's going barmy and told me about Cho… weird that one… and I'm obsessed with—nevermind, and you're going off with Fred and George—'

'You're afraid of losing me to the twins?'

'Well… yeah! Now that you mention it, yeah, I am!' he cries, sitting up and turning to me. 'You're always with 'em and all, especially now, but from the middle of third year, right? I mean, I know I was wrong about Scabbers, can't believe I let that slimy murderer in the same bed as me, but I'm always losing everything to them and…' He stops and drinks some water, staying silent as if he said too much, staring at the folds of the couch.

'And?' I prompt. He slowly places the water on the floor.

'And… they were right.' Ron says quickly. I bite my lip again. 'Bloody hell, this is not a good night for me.' He takes a deep breath and meets my gaze again. 'I'm sorry, calling you "Malfoy" was bad enough but I almost called you a…a… I'm sorry! I was angry. I say stupid things when I'm angry, turn into an absolute git.' He shakes his head, freezes and abruptly turns a nasty shade of grey, shuddering as he collapses back against the longue in a tangled heap. 'And the g-game's tomorrow. I don't think I could even get out of bed without your support. I'm just… while we're on this road, so bloody scared of losing you, losing at all. Hermione! I'll be a better Prefect if you stay with me!'

'Oh, Ron!' I cry, my voice filled with happy emotion, and jump forward to hug him around the neck.

'You're choking me, girl.' I laugh into his shoulder and relax my grip. He awkwardly pats me on the back. 'Right, yeah. Well, don't get too excited. I say stupid things when I'm apologising too.' I pull back and beam through my tears, leaning over him. 'Off to bed with you. And don't start,' he says, noting me opening my mouth. 'I'll go right after I finish my stiff drink here.' He swirls the water and raises his glass.

I nod, kiss his cheek quickly, revelling in his pink ears and flaming blush, and jump away. As I am walking to the stairs my feet slow. 'Ron?' I ask. 'Do you think I have a chance?'

He does not turn his head or answer immediately but I smile when he does. 'Like you do to me, you'd give him too many chances. I think he'd be bloody fool to miss them.'

-x-x-x-

Comments are appreciated. Thank you for reading.

(Sorry it's late).

-AA-