A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing! Harry took a bit of heat in the comments... remember that I do love Harry but he's not a perfect person. I hope you enjoy this next chapter...

Disclaimer: The usual. HP is not mine.

Hermione woke early, the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the curtains around her four-poster, and let the reality of her circumstances wash over her. She was back at Hogwarts. Ron was on the other side of Gryffindor Tower in his dorm; elsewhere in her room, Ginny and Demelza slumbered peacefully. Classes were starting today. She was Head Girl. A year ago, none of this would have seemed remotely possible; back then, she and Ron and Harry had been planning to infiltrate the Ministry and the most she'd ever done with Ron was hold hands as they fell asleep, but time had made all the difference. Indeed, it felt a bit odd - in a good way - to wake up at Hogwarts and not have a Voldemort-related problem at the forefront of her mind.

She was the first student in the common room that morning, so she opened up The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7 and casually perused it from an overstuffed armchair. The first chapter was on Conjuring Spells, which Hermione had already mastered over the previous year, so she simply flipped ahead to human Transfiguration. The diagrams here were a bit jarring to behold - she recalled all too clearly how disturbed she had been when Viktor Krum had half-transfigured himself into a shark - so she skipped forward again and began to read about Healing and Medicinal Magic. This would have been useful information last year, back when Ron had lost so much blood in that brutal Splinching. Maybe if he'd been able to recover more easily, if she'd been able to heal him, he wouldn't have been so susceptible to the torture of the Horcrux, maybe he would have stayed-

"You're up early," came Ron's voice from across the room as he descended the stairs with Harry trailing behind him. "Are you already studying? We haven't even had our first class yet."

"You're still surprised by this?" Harry commented with mild bemusement on his features. "Haven't you ever met her?"

Hermione closed her book and rose, meeting Ron halfway across the room to press a quick kiss to his lips.

"Ginny was still sleeping when I left, Harry," Hermione said, "so she might be a little while."

"That's fine, I'll wait for her. You lot go ahead." When they paused, he raised his eyebrows at them. "Seriously. Less time in the Great Hall, the better."

The Great Hall was still rather quiet when they arrived for breakfast and discovered stacks of parchment at the end of each long table.

"It's our schedules!" Hermione realized excitedly, rifling through the piles until she found hers and Ron's. Hers was as full as she had expected it to be. Between Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes, there wasn't a free period to be seen. Not that Hermione minded much: she knew every NEWT-level course she took - and aced - would aid her in her future career.

Ron's days were slightly less busy, as he was only taking the five courses required to enter the Auror program. As they sat down to plates of scrambled eggs and sausage, he compared their timetables, furrowing his brow as he did.

"Hermione," he said, glancing back and forth between the sheets of parchment, "when exactly do you plan to do homework? Or, you know, eat? Or sleep?"

'It's all the same classes I took sixth year, it won't be any different."

"But it is different, because when are you going to hang out with me?" he asked, making his best attempt at sad puppy-dog eyes at her.

"All the times I normally do, like right now."

"Well…" Ron glanced around at the mostly-empty table and slipped his hand onto her thigh. "I mean, alone with me."

"Oh." He had been talking about it ever since the Wizengamot rejected Kingsley's bill and he knew he'd be going back to Hogwarts, joking about all of the secret places in the castle where they could sneak off during their free time. "I'm sure we can work something out."

"I've got a free period after this," said Ron in a low voice. "How about if you skive off Ancient Runes and come up to my room-" At Hermione's disbelieving glare, he cut himself off. "Or not."

"It's the first day," she said in disbelief. "I'm not skiving off on the first day."

"So you might in the future?" His face lit up with misguided optimism.

"Ron."

"Okay, fine," he shrugged it off. "Forget I asked."

It wasn't that she didn't want to be with him - it had barely been a day and she already missed it - but she wasn't here on some sort of all-inclusive vacation. She was here to take her NEWTs, as was Ron, and so she needed to take it seriously.

"We'll find another time," Hermione added softly, placing her hand over his. "I promise."

With a nod, Ron touched his lips to the side of her head and picked up his fork, digging into his serving of eggs. Slowly the table began to fill up, though few people paid them any mind; they simply weren't as interesting to the general public without Harry around. From the Ravenclaw table, Luna Lovegood gave them a cheerful wave, though she seemed rather engrossed in a recent edition of the Quibbler. Ron was just helping himself to a slice of toast when Ginny and Harry bounded up to the table, the former brimming with energy.

"So, I've decided," she declared as she seated herself across from Hermione. "As Quidditch captain, I'm holding tryouts on Saturday, and both of you-" She pointed a finger each at Ron and Harry "will have to try out if you want to be on the team again."

"Why so soon?" asked Ron.

"Because our first match is against Slytherin and I want to have my team together as soon as possible." She pulled a bowl of porridge toward her. "So you had better get practicing."

•••

Laden down with homework, Hermione left Ancient Runes and made her way to the dungeons for Potions, where Ron, Harry and Ginny were all waiting outside the classroom door.

"And how was Ancient Runes?" Ron asked, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

"Very important," Hermione said pointedly, eliciting a snicker from him. "And I've got so much work to do already - how was your free period?"

"Bit boring, actually."

They headed into the classroom, where Professor Slughorn, just as rotund and walrus-like as ever, greeted Harry as though he'd just been appointed Minister of Magic, wringing his hand and clapping him on the back and then guiding him to a table right at the front of the classroom.

"A prime seat for my star student," he boomed as Harry stared pleadingly back at his friends. "Don't think I've forgotten your Potion-brewing skills this past year, oh no!"

"Er, well," Harry stammered as Ron bit down on his fist to keep from laughing, "I might be a bit rusty, sir, I haven't had to brew a potion in a while-"

"Oh, nonsense," said Slughorn. "No need to be modest, m'boy, we've all seen what you can do!"

But in the end, Ron, Ginny and Hermione felt they couldn't leave Harry to suffer alone in the front row like that, so they plunked their cauldrons down beside his and set up their ingredient kits. As class commenced, Professor Slughorn started to explain the many uses of valerian root in healing and sedative potions. Hermione's parchment was soon filled with tidy, detailed notes, but when she glanced over at Ron, all she saw on his parchment was a half-complete game of hangman that he was evidently playing with Harry.

"Have you even considered taking notes?" Hermione hissed across the table.

"Not particularly," he muttered back, adding an arm to the stick figure on the page and sliding it back to Harry.

"Ron-" But as Professor Slughorn prattled on, Hermione opted not to argue and simply released an exasperated breath. "Fine."

The class soon moved on to brewing their own cauldrons of Dreamless Sleep, the best of which would be sent to the hospital wing to aid students still struggling with war-related nightmares. Without an annotated version of the textbook to help him, Harry's potion was merely passable, as was Ron's, while Ginny's was good and Hermione's was nearly perfect. They bottled up small vials to be graded and dropped them off at the front of the classroom, Harry receiving gushing reassurances from their professor that he'd be back to form in no time, and then proceeded out into the corridor.

"Maybe I won't let you borrow my notes this year," Hermione stated coolly as they all traipsed across the lawn to the Herbology greenhouses. "What would happen then?"

"You said the same thing fifth year, and you caved after a week," said Ron, hitching his bag higher up on his shoulder.

"Maybe I mean it this year."

"Fine, then I guess I'll fail and the whole year will be a waste," he said, so flippant and nonchalant that Hermione's exasperation came back tenfold.

"No, you won't, but you have to actually-" She shook her head in frustration and sped ahead of him, yanking open the door to the greenhouse. The air was humid, thick with the scent of blossoming plants, and Hermione found a stool near the front. As she pulled on her gloves, Ron approached.

"Hey, I was just kidding," he said quietly. "It's only the first day, anyway."

Hermione nodded tersely, her eyes on the ancient wooden table. "All right."

The rest of the day carried on in a similar fashion, and by the time Professor Flitwick was dismissing them from Charms class, Hermione had grown weary of even trying to make Ron and Harry take their classes seriously. They spent most of Transfiguration bewitching their quills to fight each other and most of Charms discussing Quidditch tactics and the upcoming tryouts. By the time dinner rolled around, Hermione almost felt she would rather be alone. Instead, she simply started on her mountain of homework, paging intently through the Spellman's Syllabary as she ate. Around her, students chattered animatedly about the new professors and how they spent their extended summers, but Hermione tuned them all out. She had to write a two-foot essay entirely in Runes, and it wasn't helping that Ron kept rubbing her knee through her robes as they sat in the Great Hall.

"What?" she finally asked, snapping her head to look at him.

"Do you want to go for a walk after this?"

"I have a lot of homework to do," she replied. "And so do you, Flitwick set that essay on Animation Spells-"

"And it isn't due until Friday." He bumped his shoulder lightly into hers. "Just for a little bit?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Ron swallowed heavily and lowered his voice. "Are you still mad at me because of Potions?"

"No," she said, even though she was frustrated with him, a bit, "I just have a lot to do and you keep distracting me."

"I'm distracting you, am I?" A grin stretching over his face, he shifted his hand further up her thigh. "Well, you know I would hate to do that…"

"Ron, stop," said Hermione, nudging him away. "And have you realized that the more homework you get done during the week, the more time we can spend together on weekends?"

He crinkled his nose at her. "Yeah, I reckon you're right."

•••

The first Saturday of term dawned cold and grey with the ever present threat of rain hanging over the castle. Ginny was practically vibrating with excitement, Harry was nonplussed, but Ron, well, Ron had spent the last twenty-four hours constantly on the verge of emptying his stomach. Friday evening saw him shaky and pale, unable to focus on much of anything and even darting off to the nearest lavatory at one point. All the things Hermione wanted to say to him - reminding him that it was just Quidditch, that when he was confident in himself he could do anything he pleased - would be of little service to him in this state, so she had kept quiet, instead offering wordless support, her head on his shoulder as they had sat together in the common room, her fingers laced through his.

"Ron looks rather nervous," Luna commented as she and Hermione sat in the stands, watching as tryouts went underway.

"Yes," Hermione had to agree. There were two other people trying out for Keeper, and his sister being Captain actually worked against him. "He is, a bit."

"I wonder why he plays Quidditch, then?" Luna went on in her usual manner of speaking uncomfortable truths. "It seems to give him a great deal of stress."

"So how's your dad, Luna?" Hermione readily changed topics. Out on the pitch, Ginny was flinging golf balls into the air for Harry to catch as substitutes for Golden Snitches; he grabbed every one nimbly, almost casually, even when she chucked one low across the grass.

"Oh, he's doing well," Luna replied. "In fact this summer, there was a record number of plimpies in the pond near our house - they do have many magical properties, you know."

"Right, that's great," Hermione said absently. There had been a couple of other students planning to try out for Seeker, but they now backed off the field after seeing Harry even as Ginny encouraged them to make an attempt.

"No, come back," Ginny was saying kindly to a third-year girl. "At least give it a shot, you never know, you might be better than this git." She jerked a thumb toward Harry, who nodded his agreement.

But the girl just shook her head, her face flushing as she made eye contact with Harry, and scurried away.

"So you had a nice summer, then?" Hermione continued to Luna. The first student to try out for Keeper, a skinny fourth-year, rose into the sky in front of the goalposts.

"Oh, yes, now that our house is rebuilt."

"Right, I'm sorry about that," Hermione said with a cringe as the player on-field blocked a goal with ease.

"That's quite all right. And anyway, Dad says that it gave him a chance to…"

But Hermione had stopped listening. Try as Ginny might to throw the most challenging shots on goal with the Quaffle, none of them thus far had made it past the potential Keeper. If Ron lost his spot on the team to a fourteen-year-old, the blow would be almost irreparable, and Hermione couldn't allow it to happen. Just as she was surreptitiously removing her wand from her robes, Ginny faked left and made a shot to the right, sending the Quaffle soaring through the hoop. Wand at the ready just in case, Hermione watched with bated breath as Ginny aimed another clear shot and scored.

"Okay, three out of five," Ginny told the boy. "That's not bad. Ron, you're up next."

As Ron mounted his Cleansweep and kicked off, Hermione said a quick and silent prayer to whatever deity might have been listening. Now fifty feet in the air, Ron caught Hermione's eye and waved quickly at her, which she returned with a broad smile.

She wasn't naive enough to think that her mere presence had imbued him with the confidence to block every shot: perhaps she was wishing so fervently for his success that she performed accidental magic. Whatever had transpired, Ron looked cautiously optimistic as he touched down on the ground and sat down beside Harry to watch the remainder of the tryouts unfold, and Hermione was beaming.

The third person to try out for Keeper was a second-year girl who had plainly never been on a broomstick before and giggled furiously at the sight of Harry; Ginny dismissed her when she dove to block a shot and nearly fell from her broomstick.

Over an hour passed as Ginny tried out Chasers and Beaters. A very light drizzle had begun to fall before the final team was assembled: Harry as Seeker; Ron as Keeper; Ginny, Demelza, and Jack Sloper as Chasers; and Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Cootes reprising their roles as Beaters.

"Our first practice is tomorrow morning at nine," Ginny told the team after the decisions were announced. "Make sure you're on time, our match against Slytherin is in November and we've got to flatten them."

Outside of the changing rooms, Hermione waited patiently as the younger players streamed out, and when she was sure that only Ron, Harry, and Ginny remained, she magicked open the door and slipped inside.

"The problem," Ron was saying to Ginny as he shoved his Quidditch boots into a locker, "is people will think you played favorites."

"Let them think that," Ginny replied firmly. "I tried to get people to try out against Harry and they wouldn't, and you blocked every goal, I have witnesses."

"Yeah, I'm one of them," Hermione chimed in to announce her presence. Ron dropped the pair of Keeper's gloves he'd been holding and stepped over a bench to greet her. "Congratulations," she said as she hugged him tightly around the neck and kissed his cheek. "You really were brilliant."

"Yeah, you didn't even have to Confund anyone," Harry blurted out. Over Ron's shoulder, Hermione saw Harry's face drain of color as her own stomach plummeted into her shoes.

"What are you talking about?" Ron said with a brief laugh, loosening his hold on Hermione.

"Nothing, nothing," said Harry hurriedly, convincing absolutely nobody. "I - yeah, I was thinking of something else. Don't mind me."

Harry, in their seven years of friendship, had had many moments of brilliant lie-telling, but this, Hermione thought miserably, was not one of them.

"What's he on about?" Ron asked, his hands now on Hermione's shoulders.

"It's - it's nothing, really-" Hermione stuttered, her gaze locked onto his hairline because she couldn't bear to look into his eyes.

"Then why do you have that look on your face?"

"Well…" Hermione bit her lip and forced herself to meet Ron's eyes. She couldn't lie to him, even when she really believed he was better off not knowing any of this. "Remember that it was two years ago when this happened-"

"McLaggen," said Ron with an air of realization. "I remember now, he was walking into walls after tryouts that year, but I didn't think he was really - he was really Confunded?" Hermione nodded slowly. "You Confunded him?"

"Ron, it was just - you know how he was, he was vile, and I just thought I should make sure that-"

"Make sure I made the team?" he concluded, his hands dropping to his sides. "Because I wasn't good enough otherwise?"

"No, it wasn't like that," Hermione insisted desperately as Ron backed away from her, a horrible pain etched on his freckled face. "Just listen for a second-"

"And you," said Ron, now rounding on Harry, "you knew this whole fucking time and you never bothered to say anything?"

"I - I didn't know until after, mate, honestly-"

But Ron, evidently, had heard enough. Shaking his head, he snatched his rucksack up from the floor and stormed out of the changing room, leaving a heavy tension among its three remaining occupants.

"Hermione," Harry began, "I'm so sorry, I really thought he knew, I thought you'd have told him."

"Why would I tell him that?" Determined tears forced their way down her cheeks. "I was never going to tell him, he never needed to know."

"I just thought - you know, now that you're-"

"You're an idiot," Hermione spat at him, turning on her heel and bolting. If she hurried, she could catch Ron before he reached the castle. As she stepped outside, however, she learned that the fog from the rain had grown thick, obscuring her vision so that she could only see a few feet ahead of herself at a time. By the time she reached the castle doors, Ron was nowhere to be seen.

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