Chapter Twenty

Questions

"Hermione?" Harry said, pausing outside the kitchen entrance. "I want to talk to Ginny for a moment; will you be all right?"

Hermione smiled. "I can handle Malfoy for a few minutes, Harry, don't worry."

"Are you sure?" Ginny said with a mischievous grin. "There's a lot of food in the kitchens, you know."

"Oh, ha, ha," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Just hurry up, okay?" She leaned forward and tickled the pear to gain entrance to the kitchens; Draco, having never been down to the kitchens before, watched with interest before following her inside.

"So what do you want to talk to me about?" Ginny asked, suddenly nervous. She doubted Harry was going to compliment her hair or ask her for her opinions on house elf rights.

Harry leaned against the kitchen doorway, regarding her with an expression that told her he wasn't going to let her get away from him without answering. "Talk, Gin," Harry said. "Now."

"Um… about what?"

"You know about what," Harry said severely. "You and Hermione are close. She tells you a lot of things that she doesn't tell me and Ron. The girl stuff."

"Well, there are some things that just aren't meant to be shared with your guy friends," Ginny said, swallowing.

"I think it's time you shared a few of Hermione's things with this particular guy friend," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Like what's up with her and Wood, for instance. Or why you both neglected to tell me about Snape."

"Harry, I'm not going to betray Hermione's confidence," Ginny said. "Her secrets are hers, and I'd no sooner tell them than mine. Not even to you."

"She was going to tell me anyway, before… er… I accidentally blew up Malfoy," Harry replied.

"Which she might not have done if you hadn't cornered her between you and the lake," Ginny retorted, having heard the whole story that morning, while Hermione was getting dressed and while Draco was showering, after Harry, Ron and Oliver had left the bathroom. Hermione had, however, said she planned to tell Harry, as soon as she found the right words; Ginny knew that Hermione would be more grateful than angry if Ginny handled the telling for her.

"She would have told me sooner or later, regardless," Harry argued. "You know she would have."

Ginny bit her lip and sighed, knowing that, if anything, Hermione would be grateful that Ginny had saved Hermione the embarrassment. "All right, Harry, if you must know… are you sure you want to? You might not want to. Honest."

"Gin, the word 'honest' is becoming rather taboo, don't you agree? Tell me. Start with the Quidditch World Cup… I can't recall Hermione ever being alone with Wood there."

Ginny took a deep breath. "Well, she was, twice. When she left the line at the water tap, she bumped into him and they chatted for a while. Then, the night after the Cup, she couldn't sleep and went wandering around—"

"You're joking!" Ginny shook her head. "Was she insane? Going out alone with all those Death Eaters on the loose?"

"She said she was so worried and upset that she just had to get out of the tent. She figured the Death Eaters were so shook up, and the Ministry was so watchful afterwards, that she'd be okay. She thought the Death Eaters would be lying low, and she was right. Then… well, while she was out, she ran into Oliver, who was walking around himself. The two of them hung out together and… to make a long story short, Oliver walked her back to the tent and they ended up kissing. A lot."

"So Hermione showed him her tattoo right on the path in front of the tent?"

"Oh, don't be stupid!" Ginny exclaimed. "Of course she didn't. Besides, she didn't even have the tattoo then. She got it last summer, remember?"

"Then how did he see it?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Well," Ginny said slowly, trying to figure out how much to say, "do you remember how we told you Oliver joined the Order before you first came to Grimmauld Place?"

Harry nodded. In the talks he'd had with Fred, George, Ron, Hermione and Ginny about the Order during the summer before his fifth year, he'd learned that several people he knew had become members of the Order, Oliver being one of them. Oliver's father was in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Oliver had several family members who had been lost to Voldemort, so he'd immediately sought out Dumbledore to see if the rumors were true. When Dumbledore had confirmed them, he'd offered Oliver the chance to become a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and Oliver had readily accepted.

"Back when Oliver first joined, he spent some time at Grimmauld Place—learning, attending meetings, that sort of thing. Then Puddlemere's training season started up, and he didn't have as much time… but, well, when he was hanging around Grimmauld Place, he and Hermione… well, they spent a little time alone." Ginny stifled a giggle at the look on Harry's face and went on. "Apparently, just about every time Oliver dropped by Grimmauld Place for the holidays during the two years You-Know-Who was around, he and Hermione… hung out."

"But… but she got together with Ron this past summer. How—she didn't—"

"She didn't cheat on Ron, no. After the war, Hermione told Oliver that she was spending some time with her family and Muggle friends. And Oliver occasionally went out with her and her friends—to parties and whatnot. He didn't do it often, as he was a pureblood and it was hard to keep his story straight around all the Muggles, but I know he did it sometimes. As for how he saw the tattoo… I don't know. He could have been there when she got the tattoo, given that they were hanging out. They hung out a lot right up until she joined us at headquarters for your birthday. He might have never seen it, actually; she might have just told him."

"So… wait. When she got with Ron, she was cheating on Oliver?"

"She was never dating Oliver. Not exactly. They… they liked each other, and then dated, but they weren't a couple. Hermione didn't want to date during the war, and with her at school and him off playing professional Quidditch… it just wasn't practical, and you know how Hermione is with impracticality. She got together with Ron a few weeks before term, quite a while after the last time she'd seen Oliver, and then told Oliver about Ron once she found out he would be teaching this year." Her face softened. "Poor Oliver. I think he thought teaching here would bring them closer. I think Oliver still likes her, really, but between her having a boyfriend and Oliver being a professor, they've mostly just had awkward conversations."

Harry was having trouble letting it all sink in. "So… let me get this straight. You mean they've been sleeping together since before fourth year without even dating?"

"No!" Ginny said in exasperation. "Come on, Harry; Hermione wasn't even fifteen then! You honestly think she'd shag Oliver when she was fourteen?"

"I never thought she'd do a thing with Oliver, really," Harry said bluntly.

"Oh, come on, she's a girl, not a nun!" Ginny snapped. "I mean, surely you saw her snogging Viktor once or twice—"

"No, I didn't," Harry interrupted, frowning. Hermione had always struck him as the don't-touch-me-unless-we're-married-or-you-don't-want-to-use-your-hands-ever-again type.

Ginny snorted. "You really are naïve, you know that? Why'd you think he invited her to stay at his house in Bulgaria—which he lives in all by himself, by the way? So he'd have someone to play Quidditch with?"

Harry's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, Harry," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, Mr. I've-never-felt-this-way-before asked her to stay over at his house in a different country, which usually implies more than a day trip. I don't know what his intentions were, but I doubt they were very innocent."

"But Hermione considered going!"

"Yep."

"But… but…"

"Pull your head out of your arse, Harry," Ginny said with a sigh. "Viktor was famous, rich, sweet, smart, a good dancer, and pretty good-looking."

"Hermione herself said he wasn't that good-looking!"

"Yeah, well—she said 'that good-looking,' which means he's at least mildly good-looking to her. And girls don't always mean what they say when they're talking about guys, Harry. Especially when they're talking to other guys. One of your best friends is a girl, how can you not know that? How long have you been hanging around Hermione now?"

"Hermione's not a real girl, she's a… a… a… Hermione."

Ginny slapped her forehead. "Anyway, Harry… can we get back on subject? I'm hungry." Harry pursed his lips and nodded. "I honestly don't know if they slept together, but if they did, I doubt it was back at the World Cup. They might have eventually slept together, mind you, but I never asked Hermione much about it. I don't know. And it's her business, not ours. Like I said, though, I don't even know if he's actually seen her tattoo."

"He's seen it," Harry said with certainty. "They were acting weird around each other all year. I never thought much of it, but looking back, it kind of clicks. I mean, she never spoke much around him, he always looked at her kind of funny… I dismissed it then, but now… well."

"It's not really your business, Harry," Ginny said quietly. "I mean, who she's slept with, what she's done with this guy or that… that's not something she's obligated to share."

"Maybe, maybe not," Harry replied stubbornly, "but how would you feel if your best friend had been having some secret relationship for over two years without telling you?"

Ginny sighed. "I see your point, Harry. Anyway… can we go get something to eat now?"

"Not yet—what happened between her and Snape?"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Harry, she was just messing with Malfoy's head!" Ginny exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "It was nothing. She's been so determined to win this war, and you know what she's like, how hard she'll work for something—"

"She let Snape put hickeys on her just to get back at Malfoy?" Harry said disbelievingly.

"Harry," Ginny said slowly, "are you aware of just how badly she would be in trouble if it ever came out that Hermione blackmailed Rita Skeeter to keep her from writing damaging articles? Blackmail is illegal, no matter how small or righteous it is… and when you know someone's committed a crime, you're obligated by law to turn them in, or you've committed a crime yourself. Yet Hermione doesn't care, because a) she doesn't think she'll get caught and b) she despises Skeeter so badly that the risk of having to share a cell in Azkaban with her is worth it. She's blackmailed Skeeter twice now—once to write that interview, and once to not write for a year. Two counts of blackmail and the gods only know how many charges could be brought against her for not turning in an unregistered Animagus. I don't know if she can still be charged, so long after she's committed the crime, but… listen, my point is, Snape was nothing more than an intricate revenge plot and a helping hand in getting ideas for pranks. I know it seems rather farfetched, but the idea that there was any other reason is even more preposterous. It's about the prank war, nothing more. She just didn't tell you and Ron everything, because she figured you guys would freak—and she was right, wasn't she?"

"We still would have taken it better from Hermione as opposed to Malfoy."

"Well, I'm sure she would have told you if she could have predicted that she'd have Malfoy attached to her arm in the near future," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Look—Hermione's been going through a lot. Can't you let it go? She doesn't need this right now, not from Ron, and especially not from you."

Harry nodded briskly. "Fine. Let's get in there and make sure they're not having another row."

When Harry and Ginny entered the kitchen, however, they were rather surprised to see that not only were Hermione and Draco not fighting, but Draco was sitting at a table next to Dobby, chatting with him like they were old friends.

"What's going on?" Harry whispered to Hermione as Draco ignored him. Dobby had yet to notice their arrival.

"I don't know… they're being so nice to each other," Hermione whispered back. "They were the same way in the bathroom; I don't know why."

"Malfoy's being nice to a house elf? To his former house elf?" Ginny hissed.

"Later, when I get a chance, I'll talk to Dobby and see what it's all about," Harry said, and the three of them dropped the discussion and dug into the small feast laid out on the table between Hermione and Draco.

Monday morning dawned bright and early, and Harry, Hermione and Draco got up and dressed, all of them nervous and quiet. Draco wasn't even bothering to make snide remarks. They would have to go to classes today, and none of them were looking forward to it. Between the rumors already flying around the school and the way Hermione and Draco had been spending their time together, being with other students didn't seem like a good idea.

"What classes have you got today?" Harry asked Hermione as the three of them left the room early, hoping to get down to breakfast, eat, and get out before the hall got too busy.

"Potions, Charms, and then Transfiguration," Hermione told him.

"Hey, guys," Ginny called when they reached to common room. "I was just coming to see you… gonna brave the Great Hall today?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Neville told us last night that Filch is over his cold, and we don't want him to find out that we know where the kitchens are. So we're going to breakfast early."

"Too early," Draco muttered, following them out the portrait hole.

"So, are you two ready for exams?" Hermione asked Harry and Ginny. Harry gave a nervous sort of nod and Ginny shrugged. "I'll have to take the Transfiguration test today, but I think I'm prepared… do you guys want to study together tonight? Or do you have Quidditch Practice?"

"No, Slytherin's booked the field—uh-oh." The four of them stopped walking. Draco smacked his forehead.

"I can't believe I forgot about Quidditch practice tonight!" Draco moaned.

"Well, you can miss it," Harry said coldly, "it's not like you're going to win the Cup."

"You beat us by fifty points, Potter," Draco snapped. "All we have to do is flatten Hufflepuff and then—"

"You'll never get past Hufflepuff, now that they've got Macmillan for captain and—"

"Hey, the only team that's ever lost to Hufflepuff is Gryffindor, Potter."

"Oh, please—at least I was still the better Seeker. You can't win when you're trying."

"Will you stop arguing?" Hermione demanded, cutting Malfoy off. "There's nothing anyone can do about Quidditch practice. There's no way you'll be able to go, Malfoy. It's not like I'm going to get on a broom and fly next to you."

"Yeah? We'll see about that," Draco snarled, and he marched off towards the Great Hall, dragging Hermione with him by the chain.

The Great Hall was mercifully rather empty when they reached it, though the teachers were already there. Draco stalked right past the Gryffindor table and marched up to the staff, Harry and Ginny hanging back.

"Professor," he called to Dumbledore, interrupting Dumbledore's conversation with Flitwick, "I have Quidditch practice tonight, and I really need to make it… is there anything I can do?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Why don't you take Miss Granger with you, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Me? Fly with him? During Slytherin practice?" Hermione said shrilly.

"I realize that could be a tad dangerous," Dumbledore said slowly. "You are not very accustomed to flying, are you?"

"No," said Hermione, who hated flying and only did it when absolutely necessary.

"Well, then, I will ask one of the staff to oversee the practice," Dumbledore told her. "To make sure there are no mishaps."

"But… but… but…"

Draco smirked at Hermione's stammering. "Thank you, professor," he said, already plotting ways to make the night miserable for her. He glanced up and down the table for Madam Hooch, but didn't see her; her chair, which was between Sprout's and Oliver's, was empty, and Draco vaguely remembered hearing that she'd caught Filch's cold. "Er… is Madam Hooch around? We'll need to borrow a school broom for Granger."

"Oh, that wouldn't be safe at all," Dumbledore said, still smiling at them. "It is far too difficult to fly right next to someone, especially when one is an inexperienced flyer and there are Bludgers flying about. Miss Granger will have to share your broom."

"What?" both students exclaimed.

"It will be much safer that way, I believe," Dumbledore continued.

Hermione and Draco returned to the Gryffindor table, Hermione angrily sitting down between Harry and Ginny, Draco flopping down across from her, annoyed. Just when he thought something was going his way, he was told he'd have to share a broom with Granger.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked Hermione.

"I'm supposed to fly with Malfoy!" Hermione raged, smacking her butter knife down so hard on her toast that bits of jam splattered across the table. "Dumbledore expects me to go to Quidditch practice with Malfoy!"

"We'll come, too," Harry said sympathetically. Ginny nodded.

"No, you won't, Potter!" Draco snapped.

"You can't stop me."

"Seven Slytherin Quidditch players say otherwise."

Hermione sighed, tired of all of the Malfoy-induced fighting. "Don't worry about it, Harry—Dumbledore's sending one of the teachers to keep an eye out," she said reluctantly.

Harry frowned, not wanting to point out all the reasons he should be there—all of which involved scenarios that would make Hermione feel even more terrified. "It's okay, Harry, honest," Hermione said more firmly. "Study for your exams."

"Fine," Harry said sulkily. Ginny looked just as unhappy about it.

They ate quickly, but the hall was starting to fill and they were nowhere near done with breakfast. Just when Hermione was about to suggest they go down to Potions early, someone cleared their throat. Hermione looked up to see two very ugly, pink-clad girls standing behind Draco.

"Malfoy?" said of one of the girls, the taller one, whose hair was up in two ponytails. She was wearing a low-cut, frilly pink dress and, like her companion, she was enormous, an even mix of muscle and fat. Hermione stared at her for a moment before turning to look at the shorter girl. The second girl had on a short pink miniskirt which revealed a pair of large hairy legs and a white T-shirt with rainbow letters displaying the caption "Proud to Be a Lesbian."

Draco turned and stared at the girls in surprise for a moment, wondering why they were talking to him, before recognition finally dawned on him.

"Crabbe?" he gasped at the girl in the miniskirt. He looked at the other. "Goyle?"

"We can't get our hands unglued," said Crabbe in his thick voice as Harry, Hermione and Ginny burst out laughing. Crabbe held up his hand, which was clasped firmly with Goyle's.

"Who did this to you?" Draco asked, laughing a little as he pulled out his wand.

"Didn't get a good look," Goyle said. "We were busy 'talking' to Longbottom. There were two of them, though, and they had red hair."

"Guess Fred and George haven't left yet, then," Harry choked out, tears streaming down his face from laughing so hard.

"Damn it, guys, what did I tell you? Avoid the Gryffindors," Draco said angrily, shaking his head.

"We were just having a bit of fun," Goyle insisted.

Draco rolled his eyes and tapped their joined hands with his wand; Crabbe and Goyle pulled their fingers away and rubbed at their wrists. "Be more careful, will you? You might get stuck together permanently," Draco said, glaring down at his own wrist where the invisible cuff linked him to Hermione. "Or worse."

"Can you fix our clothes?" Crabbe asked plaintively.

"I don't have time for that," Draco said coldly. "Go change."

"Are you coming back soon?" Goyle whined.

Draco shrugged. "I hope so. Go on and change. Don't forget about practice tonight."

Crabbe and Goyle hurried from the hall; laughs sounded from everyone they passed. "Oh, that was priceless," Hermione said, clutching her sides.

"Annoying as the twins can be, you can't deny they're funny," Ginny gasped.

Harry, Hermione and Draco were the first three students to make it to Potions that morning, having left the Great Hall as fast as possible. They went straight into the classroom, selecting a table in the far back corner where they would hopefully be less noticeable.

The Slytherins filed in first, automatically sitting far from Harry and Hermione, most of them not noticing Draco, who was slumped down in his chair, mostly hidden by the table and his cauldron. Lavender and Parvati were next, whispering and smirking at Harry and Hermione before choosing the table in front of them.

"All right, Hermione?" Lavender said.

"Grand," Hermione said dryly.

"So," Parvati said, in a tone that made it clear Hermione was probably going desperately want to smack her for whatever she was about to say, "tell us, Hermione—"

"Parvati! Lavender!" called Dean, who'd just entered with Seamus and Neville. "Did you hear what happened to Crabbe and Goyle?"

"No! Tell!" Lavender exclaimed.

While Neville sat with Harry, Dean and Seamus sat down in front of Parvati and Lavender and began to eagerly fill them in on the Weasley twins' recent prank. Hermione was so relieved that Dean had turned away Parvati and Lavender's attention that she instantly forgave him for the duel and its side effects.

As the four Gryffindors laughed about Crabbe and Goyle, Hermione grew nervous; if class didn't start soon, they would run out of things to criticize (even if there was a lot to criticize regarding Crabbe and Goyle) and would turn back to interrogating Hermione. She checked her watch and was startled to realize that it was already five minutes past the start of class.

"Where's Snape?" she blurted out. "He's late."

"Why are you complaining?" Harry asked.

"I'm not… it's just weird. How many times has Snape been late for class?"

"Well… never," Harry admitted.

"Don't you think it's kind of weird?" Hermione said.

"He was missing all weekend, too," Neville piped up from Harry's other side. "It was all over school. Madam Hooch was especially upset, because he was supposed to brew Pepper-Up Potion for Madam Pomfrey and now they don't have any, and Madam Hooch caught a killer cold off of Filch."

Harry frowned. "Think it could have been… 'business?'" he asked Hermione. Though Voldemort was dead, the Order still had plenty of work to do, assisting in the capture of Death Eaters and the protection of people like Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were still at risk from fugitive Death Eaters who'd escaped both death and the Ministry after the final battle. It was Harry and Hermione's theory that the Order was never truly dormant in the fight against the dark arts.

Hermione shook her head, remembering what Oliver had said about the teachers' confusion over Snape's weekend disappearance. "McGonagall was looking for him too, remember? Most of the teachers would know if that's what it was."

Harry shrugged. "It's probably nothing, really."

"Granger's just missing her little pal," Draco said snidely. Hermione pursed her lips and Harry glared but both did their best to ignore him.

"Speaking of missing people," said Neville, who hadn't heard Draco's comment about Snape, "where's Ron at, anyway?"

Hermione blinked. She hadn't noticed Ron was missing; she'd been trying to avoid thinking about him, as the fact that he might never forgive her made her want to burst into tears. "I don't know," she said, looking over at Harry worriedly.

"Me either," Harry said.

Neville frowned. "Did you three have a fight?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Hermione said, firmly trying to keep her mind off of where Ron might be, but anxious about him nonetheless.

Oliver was sitting at his fully-restored desk, hastily grading the last few papers for his first class, which started right after lunch. The essays weren't bad—most of them received high marks—but there were only so many variations on the topic of water monsters. Most students had just written a lot about grindylows; the most inventive essay so far was from Luna Lovegood, who seemed to think that mermaids were highly dangerous and that there were something called "Griados" that ate the toes of swimmers and lived in all lakes (which explained why Luna always wore her shoes when swimming). He was just starting on his third-to-last essay when his office door flew open. Startled, Oliver looked up.

Ron Weasley stood in the doorway with a murderous look on his face.