A/N: Obviously, I am not JKR, and own none of these characters.

She hadn't known it at the time, but the afternoon she and Ron spent out in the grounds proved to be the ignition in finding more strength when it came to Terry. Certainly, she was banking on Tonks' threat towards him, but knowing if Terry did try to come towards her Ron wouldn't do anything that might get him into trouble helped immensely. And, having informed Ron of what was happening, if Terry tried to claim that she'd been snogging him, Ron wouldn't believe him. Hopefully. Nonetheless, spending that time relaxing, and eventually studying given that Ron had promised he'd let her quiz him, had warmed her heart. It had been filled with laughter as well-Ron tried to read her Ancient Runes textbook and convince her that he was an excellent translator. He was not, but the ideas he came up with had her in stitches. Even now, days later, the memory continued to bring a smile to her face.

And she would need it. Today they needed to hand in their partner projects to Professor Babbling. She felt certain it was complete, but didn't know if Terry would try and pull anything last minute. So far, apart from glowering at Ron when they were in the library-because Ron had convinced her to go back to the library-he'd kept his distance. It was almost to the point she'd considered dropping out as a partner entirely, though this would harm her grade, and she wanted everything perfect before her Head's interview. It was in a week's time, and she was anxious for it to be over. Ron had his first, and promised to try and remember every detail for her sake.

She smiled again. Every word she'd said to him out on the grounds had been true. She trusted him. She knew he wouldn't let anything hurt her if he could help it. He'd even started walking her to class if he happened to have a spare period on the off-chance Terry might try to approach her. Harry was usually much too busy with Ginny to notice this happening.

Ginny was still on her about talking to McGonagall or one of the professors. Hermione had mentioned that Tonks had been around and given Terry a talking to, but Ginny seemed unconvinced. The youngest Weasley had also shown a great deal of suspicion towards her and Ron. Ginny hadn't come out and said it, but it was obvious she thought something was afoot. What was it with her and Terry? There was nothing happening between her and Ron. They were just very good friends. Very good friends who happened to be getting comfortable showing physical affection. It was twice in the space of a fortnight now that she had ended up dozing on his chest. But there was nothing untoward about that. He'd made no effort to dislodge her either time. Hermione tried to give Ron an opening in case he'd changed his mind. By telling him that Terry thought that she and Ron were more than friends, it was a perfect opportunity for him to ask if they really were. Another chance to redefine the parameters. Until Ron mentioned anything about wanting move beyond friendship, she wouldn't try to force his hand. He'd said they were friends. Friends they would remain.

Except she'd be lying if she didn't ache with longing for more than friendship. That when he'd brought her down to lay together, it seemed as though her head fit perfectly against his chest. That feeling his heart beat against her cheek warmed her deliciously. She'd dreamt about it the past few nights, although the way those dreams ended meant that the boundaries of friendship were scattered to the wind. It would hurt to wake up and know that it was only a dream. Though the moment he graced her with a smile it would vanish.

He gave her that same smile as she prepared to head up to Ancient Runes after breakfast. While he wasn't able to walk her up this time, he reminded her over toast that if Terry tried anything all she had to do was hex first and ask questions after. Hermione had no intention of following his advice, but appreciated it nonetheless.

The sunlight had been replaced by uniform grey clouds threatening rain. It made the castle look ashier than it did normally. She hitched her bookbag a little higher up on her shoulder and rounded the last corner towards the Ancient Runes classroom.

Babbling wasn't yet inside as she entered, but Terry was waiting by her desk. Hermione took a deep breath. Reasoning with herself that Terry wouldn't try anything in a classroom full of people, she marched over.

'Terry,' she said, tightly.

'It's finished.'

He dropped a large roll of parchment onto the desk.

'It is?' Hermione asked in surprise. 'And you didn't change anything?'

Terry scoffed at her. 'Personal differences aside, Granger, I wouldn't do something to jeopardize my grade. Or did you forget I'm angling for a position at the Odwalla Institute?'

She had forgotten this fact. She nodded anyway.

'Well, thank you.' Her tone was as polite as she could make it. Terry shrugged and took the parchment back.

'I'll hand it in.'

And with that, he went and dropped it onto Babbling's desk before returning to his usual spot by Antony. Hermione let her shoulders relax. That was far better than could have hoped. Perhaps the worst was behind her.

Babbling's lecture on Runic differences between Danish and Icelandic vocabularies was a particularly fascinating one. Hermione took plenty of notes, and jotted down the names of a few new authors whose treatises she wanted to check out of the library. Merlin she had missed the library. Not just for studying; she'd managed to find a few more books of previous Hogwarts students and was systematically going through them trying to find anyone who might be considered "royalty". So far she'd managed to ascertain that the Prince didn't seem to belong to one of the Sacred 26, which was further than she'd been a month ago.

When the bell rang, Hermione dashed off to go down to Potions. Harry and Ron managed to beat her there. Harry morosely took out his new textbook, and it was clear to Hermione that he still missed his Prince copy. Hermione was grateful the thing was well shot of their lives now. And of course, being best in the class once more did give her some satisfaction, though she'd never tell the boys.

Ron seemed to have noticed her looking at Harry and coughed to get her attention.

'How was class?'

'Fine,' she replied, sliding into the spot next to him. He raised his eyebrows.

'Yeah?'

'Oh yes, jolly good lecture today, didn't you find Hermione? Granted, I wish Babbling would focus more on what might come up on the exam, but then again it might show up on the NEWT. What do you think?'

Ernie had taken his customary fourth spot and was keen to chat. Hermione threw an apologetic look towards Ron before engaging in the discussion Ernie clearly wanted to have.

By the end of Potions, she'd managed to create a decent Delousing Solution, and both Ron and Harry did adequately, so she was pleased. Harry was getting back to some of his studies it would seem. Perhaps the novelty of being with Ginny was starting to wear off. Though as they got up to leave, she was surprised to find Ginny waiting for them. Her smile was matched by Harry's and they took off without waiting for Ron and Hermione.

'Nice to see where we stand,' Ron muttered, nudging her shoulder with his. 'Even I never ditched you both for food, and we both know how hungry I can get.'

Hermione laughed. 'At least he's happy.'

'And doing better in class,' Ron added. Hermione smacked him lightly on the arm.

'I'm not that predictable.'

'Keep telling yourself that,' Ron laughed, and they ascended the staircase together.

Harry and Ginny weren't in the Great Hall by the time they returned. Hermione shook her head, certain they were off for another "walk." Another hour gone when Ginny could have gotten some studying in. Though, she realized as Ron leaned over to grab the dish of green beans, she had herself wasted an hour with Ron that weekend. One she knew she didn't regret.

'Reckon he'll be on time for Transfiguration?' Ron asked between mouthfuls. Hermione shrugged.

'Who knows? Perhaps I should have kept my necklace after all.'

Ron paused, a forkful of mashed potatoes halfway to his mouth.

'What does jewellery have to do with Harry being late?'

Hermione mimed the motion of the Time-Turner and Ron's face dawned with understanding.

'Right,' he said, chewing thoughtfully. 'Though I'm glad you don't have that thing anymore. It wasn't good for you.'

'Yes, you've mentioned how much of a little snit I was that year.'

This time Ron put his fork down and fixed her with a look. 'Now that's not fair. You've been a snit every year.'

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. It was clear Ron was joking.

'What I meant was you not sleeping or eating. It was dead scary.' He returned to his mashed potatoes.

It was Hermione's turn to pause her utensil. 'It was?'

'Well yeah,' Ron said, swallowing his mouthful. 'It used to drive me mental seeing you up so late and back down in the Common Room before me every day.'

'You were angry with me for half the year,' she pointed out.

'That doesn't stop me worrying about you.'

He said it so matter-of-fact, shrug and all. Hermione felt a rush of emotion towards him.

'You don't need to worry about me,' she said. Ron fixed her with another look.

'Sure. Same as you don't need to worry about me and Harry.'

'That's different.'

'No, it isn't,' Ron argued.

'Yes, it is,' Hermione pressed on. 'There's quite a bit more on Harry's shoulders. Someone needs to be looking out for him. And you…you need reminding of your worth every once in a while. I'm allowed to worry.'

Ron's eyebrows lifted, though he said nothing for a moment. Then he grinned at her.

'And you run around trying to fix everything while pretending nothing's wrong. So I'm allowed to worry about you.'

'But I don't need you to!' Hermione cried, exasperated. For some reason it was very important for Ron to understand that she didn't. That this wasn't necessary. Nobody worried about her. Not the professors, not the prefects, not the Order, not her parents. She was reliable. She got things done. She could handle things on her own.

'You don't get to decide if I worry about you or not,' Ron laughed.

Hermione gaped at him for a moment. She opened her mouth but Ron gestured at her with his fork.

'I'm not going to stop, so you might as well admit defeat now.'

'I will not admit defeat.'

'That's fine, I'm still right.'

'I never said that.'

'You didn't have to.' Ron grinned at her before diving back to his food. Hermione grumpily took a gulp of pumpkin juice. He noticed her silence and swallowed his latest bite. 'It's not a moral failing on your part to have somebody concerned about you, you know.'

'I know,' she snapped, before immediately regretting it. He shrugged again. Hermione returned to her own green beans and stabbed them with a ferocity normally reserved for people who thought House Elves deserved to be enslaved.

'Sorry for snapping,' she said softly after a few more bites.

'Don't worry about it,' Ron said with a wave of his knife. 'We push each other's buttons sometimes. It's bound to happen.'

For reasons she didn't particularly want to think about while sitting next to him in the Great Hall, this made her blush.

'Did you hear what happened down in Birmingham?' Neville came to sit across the table from them and both Ron and Hermione looked at him in surprise.

'No,' Hermione replied. 'There was nothing in the Prophet this morning.'

'Nah, apparently it was on the muggle news. Gran lives nearby. She just sent me a message; looks like there was a spate of houses burning down mysteriously.' Neville gulped and looked back towards Hermione.

'That's not where you live, is it?'

Hermione shook her head, trying her best to avoid Ron's gaze that she could feel penetrating through her hair.

'No. My parents are further south.'

'That's a relief,' Neville sighed. And it was true that he did look quite relieved to know Hermione's parents were okay. Hermione realized she had no idea whether they were. They hadn't communicated in months. For all she knew, they weren't even at home. She swallowed again.

'Is your Gran okay?' Ron asked.

'Fit as a fiddle,' said Neville cheerfully. 'She put that bit about the houses down in the bottom of her letter after asking why I haven't been made an assistant in Herbology yet.'

'You are helping Sprout quite a bit,' Hermione pointed out, eager to get the conversation away from muggle burnings and her family.

'Yes, but Gran doesn't think that's enough.' Neville frowned for a moment before looking at his watch. He jumped at the sight.

'Speaking of, I've got to go and help out in the Greenhouses. See you later!'

Neville got up as quickly as he'd joined them and vanished back down the hall.

'There's been nothing in St. Alban's?' Ron asked, the moment he saw Neville's hair whip round the corner. Hermione shook her head. 'Not that I've heard.'

Ron nodded and shuffled his mashed potatoes around on his plate. Unusually, he didn't shovel any into his mouth. Simply continued to push them around with his fork. Hermione assumed he was working up the courage to say something.

'Do you want to borrow Pig?' he asked finally. 'Or maybe Hedwig would be better. For the distance. Just to make sure.'

'They're fine.' Hermione looked at him, at the worry carved into his face. 'It's only a couple of weeks until I'm home again anyway.'

'Right,' Ron noted. He looked a little put out by the thought. Then he brightened almost immediately. 'I forgot to show you!' Hermione watched him, bemused as he reached into his bag and pulled out a small card.

'Came just after you went up to Runes,' said Ron as he passed it to her. 'Bout time, really.'

She pulled the slim golden card out of the envelope and read it.

Mr & Mrs. Florent Delacour

Mr. & Mrs. Arthur Weasley

Invite you to share in the joyous union of their children

William Arthur

Fleur Isabelle

The celebration will take place on Friday, August 1st of the year 1997 at 3:30pm

At the Weasley family home on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole

'The wedding invitation?' Hermione said, turning it back over in her hands.

'Cutting it close, I know. I mean, I think.' Ron frowned. 'I dunno when you're supposed to send invites out.'

'Usually six months ahead is standard,' answered Hermione. Ron chuckled beside her.

'Right, course you know that.'

Ignoring this, Hermione returned her attention to the envelope. There, written in the same fine calligraphy as the card were the names Ronald B. Weasley, Harry J. Potter and Hermione J. Granger.

'One for the three of us?' she asked, looking up at him.

'Probably easiest. Dad probably told Bill not to send any more post to Harry, and…' Ron's frown deepened. 'I'm not even sure I remember your address.'

Hermione blushed. Usually Ron's letters to her came via Pig, and were simply addressed with her name.

'No, you're right. That does make sense.' She flipped it back in her hands, admiring the handiwork.

'So when do you think you'll come?' Ron asked. It was obvious he was trying to sound nonchalant, but Hermione watched him cutting the same piece of chicken long after it had separated from the rest of the breast. She smiled to herself.

'Not sure,' she answered truthfully. 'But I'll come at least a few days before to help with the preparations.'

Ron nodded. He put the piece of chicken in his mouth and chewed properly.

'As soon as I can, I'll be there.' Hermione continued. Ron smiled at her as he swallowed.

'Good, you better.'

The rest of lunch passed quickly, and Hermione's suspicions proved correct when they arrived at Transfiguration. Once again, Harry didn't manage to make it before the final bell. When he did sneak in, McGonagall merely gave him a haughty look, but didn't deduct points. Thank Merlin. Harry's incessant rule-breaking could be a black mark against her and Ron for their interviews. She wondered if Ron had been studying at all for it.

As the bell rang and the boys left to go towards their free period, Hermione could have sworn Ron sent her a wink. Whether imagined or not, the blush that painted her cheeks was decidedly real. She walked up towards Arithmancy, noting to grab a few books on wizarding wedding traditions. She felt woefully unprepared about what Bill and Fleur's big day might entail.

In fact, thoughts of weddings distracted her through the lecture. Vector was reviewing a topic for the exam, and Hermione felt quite confident in it, so didn't feel the need to worry about paying close attention. She did worry, however, that she was going to have to go shopping for a dress at some point. The last wedding she'd attended had been for her father's Hygienist back when she was 7. Doubtful that particular ensemble would still fit.

The bell rang once more, and Hermione went up to speak with Vector about a particular point on another formula. She'd been dying to discuss it for weeks but hadn't felt comfortable staying after class in case that enticed Terry to stay behind. But he'd been decent this morning, so she wasn't worried.

A few minutes later, Vector waved her goodbye and Hermione exited into the corridors, pleased with the response she'd been given. She headed off in the direction of the library, hoping to pick up those wedding books. And perhaps a couple more on famous potioneers of the past century. She was engrossed in this thought, wondering what call number might be best to begin her search, and didn't notice a hand reach out and yank her through an open door.

There was barely time to shout before the door slammed behind her. Terry kept hold of her wrist and pulled her further into the empty classroom. Alarms sounded in her head.

'Let go of me.' Her voice wasn't shaking, thank goodness, though her knees certainly were.

'I just want you to hear me out!' Terry cried. He dropped her hand. 'I swear, I didn't mean to hurt you last time.'

'Which time might that be?' Hermione asked, flicking her wand out of her sleeve and thrusting it towards him. 'When you accosted me in the Hospital Wing, or when you tried to come for me in an empty corridor?'

Terry stared at her wand, brown eyes narrowed. 'You're seriously going to hex me?'

'Give me one reason I shouldn't,' she hissed.

Terry ran a hand through his curls. 'Okay, okay, I know I deserve this, darling, but-'

'I'm not your darling.'

His eyes flashed up to hers. Heart pounding, she forced herself to keep her wand steady. Running hadn't done her much good. Perhaps it was time to stand her ground.

'But you should be. I want you to be, Hermione.'

'I fail to see how that's my problem.'

He groaned, rubbing his temple with his right hand.

'Look, I think I went about this the wrong way.'

'You think?'

Removing his hand, he glanced at her. 'I've never had to fight for someone before. Cut me some slack.'

'Excuse me?' Hermione felt her wand drop to her side out of shock. Was he actually trying to blame his actions on her?

'Oh come on, the last girls I've been with were falling over their feet for me. You're the only one who's made me work for it.'

'Fabulous,' Hermione said, pointing the wand back up. 'I'll go ahead and add misogyny to your list of negative traits.'

'No!' Terry cried out. 'That's not what I meant! I…' he trailed off, clearly frustrated. 'Eurgh, you don't understand how hard this is for me.'

Hermione laughed again, and this time she took a few steps towards him. Tonks was right. She was needed. And the sooner she could put Terry in his place, the sooner she'd be able to put Death Eaters in theirs.

'You're right, Terry, I don't. I don't understand how you can think you're the victim in this situation when all you've done is manipulate me and go against my wishes.'

'That's not true.'

'Yes it is! Do you know how many times I wanted to tell you that we were done? That I didn't want to snog you anymore? Weeks! And every time I got close, you'd move the conversation around and that was that. It wasn't even that good,' she spat as she finished. Terry sneered at her.

'That's not what your body suggested as we snogged.'

Hermione lifted an arm, vexed at his rebuttal. 'What do you want from me? I'm a teenager? There are hormones involved? The point is I'm not your darling. I never was, and I never will be.'

'You say that, but-'

'No! Get it through your head! I don't want you.' She spat the final words at him, punctuated with a point of her wand.

Terry flinched backwards, leaning against a desk. It jostled, and caused a heavy piece of fabric to fall to the ground behind him. The side of the room was suddenly reflected back. Evidently whichever class met in here were doing mirror work. Hermione snorted at the thought it might be Divination. As though it could fall any further down the rabbit hole.

'I'll tell everybody you're nothing but a two-timing, little-'

'You know what,' Hermione interrupted, stepping close to his face. His pupils were wide as he took in her fury. 'Go ahead, see if I care. The people who know me won't believe you.'

'You don't think so?'

Hermione shook her head.

'Not even your precious Weasley?' She felt her chest flush, and prayed that it wasn't noticeable.

'I've told him you're pursuing me. He's certainly not your biggest fan at the moment.'

'Pursuing?' Terry repeated. Then a sly grin spread across his face. This worried Hermione. 'So he doesn't know I've had my tongue down your throat?'

'Stop it,' Hermione hissed. 'You have no leg to stand on.' But Terry paid her no heed.

'He doesn't know I've put my hands around your-'

'I said stop!' Hermione cried, stepping between his legs and thrusting her wand into his face. His eyes widened in fear. She leaned back, prepared to possibly jelly-legs jinx him when a flash of blue caught in the reflective surface. Blue eyes that seemed to stare straight into her very soul.

Blue eyes she'd know anywhere.

'No,' she moaned, stepping back. She swivelled to where she'd seen him, but it was too late.

Ron was gone.

'No!' she moaned again, as Terry looked at her, bewildered. For a moment she was torn between finishing him, and running to convince Ron he hadn't heard what he thought he had. But Terry was frozen, and she cared far more for Ron. She took off at a run, speeding down the corridors.

There was no good lie, she mused as she bowled down the staircases. If he'd heard…well. The lovely peace between them would most certainly be gone. All anybody had to do was mention Viktor's name, and Ron's hands would involuntarily clench into fists. And Ron didn't know that Viktor had kissed her! That was all from being his date to the Yule Ball and being pen pals. Ron now knowing that she'd been snogging Terry was certainly a big problem.

By the time she reached the Fat Lady, she was out of breath. It took her a minute to ease the stitch in her side and huff out the password.

'Goodness my dear,' the portrait said, sipping tea with Violet. 'You look like you've just seen a ghost!'

'Something like that,' Hermione panted. The portrait swung open, and Hermione dashed inside.

It made perfect sense to her that Ron would have beat her back to the tower. With those long legs, he'd have halved her time. What did come as a surprise was him sitting with Dean and Seamus as he built a house of cards. As though nothing were the matter. As though her world might not have crumbled.

'Hermione?' Neville asked, coming up from his seat to put his hand on her shoulder. 'Are you okay?'

Like an antenna, Ron whipped his head round at the sound of her name and looked at her with…concern? Hermione thought she might be about to pass out. Clearly she was losing her mind.

Ron should be furious with her. If the situations were reversed, she knew she would be.

'Fine,' she heaved, leaning a little into Neville's shoulder. Perhaps she should do some more exercise. She saw Ron jump over the top of the chair-something she would normally reprimand him for-and jog over to her, eyes wide.

'Hermione, what's the matter?' he asked, looking utterly confused. Ron glanced between Neville and Hermione, and it was clear to her that he was trying to suss out the situation.

'He's lying,' she panted, still trying to take a full breath that didn't sting her lungs. 'It wasn't true.'

Ron looked at Neville, nonplussed. 'Who's lying? What are you talking about?'

'Don't look at me,' Neville said, removing his hand and lifting both towards Ron, 'I just saw her come in here like a bat out of hell.'

Ron's eyes widened in understanding. 'Oh, right. I'll take it from here Neville.'

With one hand he managed to shoo Neville back to his chair and wrap an arm around her shoulders, leading her back towards Seamus and Dean. Somewhere in the back of her brain, it amused her to see them quickly stuffing back the cards and pulling out textbooks. But panic still overwhelmed her.

'How did you get back here so fast?' Hermione breathed out, trying to wheeze through the continued stitch. 'Merlin that was so many stairs.'

Ron frowned at her as he deposited her into a chair. 'Back from where? I haven't been anywhere.'

Hermione snapped her head up to look at him. 'Yes you were. I saw you.'

'You saw me?' Ron repeated, slowly. 'Where?'

'In…in the classroom! The empty one on the sixth floor! The one where-'

'You can't have,' Ron's eyebrows were nearly to his hairline. 'I've been here since Transfiguration ended.'

'No,' Hermione tried to tell him. 'I saw you, you don't have to lie for me. I'm sorry that it happened but-'

'He's not lying, Hermione,' Dean said. He too looked concerned.

'What?'

'Ron's been up here with us playing Exploding…I mean studying this whole time.' Ron had clearly sent a warning look towards Seamus for him to have changed tracks so fast.

'You…you mean it?' she asked them. Dean and Seamus both nodded.

'Swear to you on the Cannons, Hermione. I haven't been anywhere.' Ron looked deathly serious. Hermione had to believe him. If only for the fact that there was possibly nothing in this world Ron loved more than the Cannons.

And yet she couldn't. She knew what she'd seen, and it was his eyes. They were unmistakable, staring at her from the other side of the room. But this Ron seemed shaken, and not in the way she had anticipated.

'Did Boot try something?' Ron asked in an undertone. Hermione stared at him. He swallowed hard. 'Shit. I meant to head up towards the seventh floor, but we lost track of time and…' he trailed off, looking at her with those same piercing eyes. She knew them so well. She'd seen them in that room. If she loved a Quidditch team, she'd swear on them too.

All of a sudden nausea rose in her throat.

'I think I'm going to be sick,' she moaned. Ron's eyes widened and he looked around the room helplessly.

'Dean, grab some water, Seamus, find a wastebasket or something.'

She tried to tamper down the bile in her throat. Though it was proving difficult, given how breathing was still laborious.

'You're okay,' Ron said, putting his hands on her arms and kneeling down in front of her. 'Just breathe in and out slowly.' He demonstrated this, worry swimming in his pupils.

It was easier to follow his instructions than try to think about the doppelganger she'd apparently seen. Though she knew Divination was nothing but a wash, she tried to remember what it meant to see one. From her recollection, it wasn't positive. She tried to take shallow breaths, ignoring the stabs of pain in her side. Ron kept his eyes trained on her.

'That's it, in and out.'

Her heart rate began to slow as he breathed with her. Inch by inch, the bile worked its way back down her throat. Seamus came running up to them with a wastebasket that was mostly open wires. Ron shifted his gaze long enough to roll his eyes before returning them to hers. Hermione closed her own for a moment and focused back on the breathing. A few minutes later, she felt calm enough to open them. Just in time to see Dean careening down the boys staircase with a glass of water. He thrust it towards Ron, who let go of Hermione's right arm and held it out for her.

She took it with shaking hands and started with a small sip. That was all it took for her to realize how parched she was, and she nearly inhaled the rest of it.

'Easy,' Ron told her, more a command than a request. She obliged, putting the glass back on the armchair.

'Are you okay?' Dean asked, looking at her as though she were a patient at St. Mungo's. For all she knew, she might be the next one. That's where they put people who saw things that weren't there, right?

Hermione nodded. 'I think so.'

None of them looked convinced. 'Just…exam stress, I think.' This cleared up the worry on Dean and Seamus' faces. It did nothing for Ron's.

'Right,' Seamus said, a little awkwardly. 'We'll, er, leave you to it then.' Dean picked up the last of the cards, and Hermione watched them walk out of the portrait hole, whispering to each other. No doubt they were discussing if she'd finally cracked. Brilliant.

'What actually happened?' Ron asked, settling into the chair beside hers. 'Was it Boot?'

Hermione nodded. Now that it seemed Ron didn't know what had occurred, she felt a little foolish for sprinting all the way back to the Common Room. 'He pulled me into a classroom after Arithmancy.' Ron made an angry noise in the back of his throat. 'But I was handling it,' she added, not wanting him to worry. 'I told him I wanted nothing to do with him and that he'd better leave me alone and that's when…'

'You saw me,' Ron finished, looking skeptical.

'I know it sounds mental,' Hermione rushed, feeling her cheeks burn. 'But you were there, behind me.'

'You're right, it does sound mental.' He frowned. 'But there have been plenty of mental things here before that turned out to be true.'

Having him believe her made her feel better. 'So you believe me?'

Ron nodded. 'Is there a spell that could do that? Would Boot try to throw you off?'

Now it was Hermione's turn to frown. 'Not one I've heard of, though it's certainly not outside the realm of possibility.' Another subject to add to the growing list of things to check out in the library. After another glass of water she should head down and get back to work.

'Why did you run all the way here then?' Ron asked, frown still affixed. 'What did he say that made you so upset?'

Hermione tried to push the stream of expletives out of her mind. How was she going to explain this one?

'Language hardly suitable for a school.' Oh merlin, please don't let him ask any follow up questions, she thought to herself.

'And you're sure I can't throttle him?' Ron asked. His hands had balled into fists. Hermione resisted the urge to undo them.

'Yes. He's not worth it.'

'No, but you are.'

Unsure if her chest was tight from that comment or the lingering crush of exercise, Hermione was touched by that comment nonetheless.

'I appreciate that, Ron, I really do. But I'd much rather you help me figure out if there is a spell for what happened.'

Fists still clenched; Ron looked at her with one raised eyebrow.

'Library?' he asked, knowingly.

'Library.' Hermione replied.

Not since they'd tried to figure out how to help Harry breathe underwater had the library failed her to this extent. Despite spending a couple of hours pouring through various tomes, no answer as to why Hermione had seen Ron in the classroom was forthcoming. Ron, bless him, did try his best to help, though it was clear he thought she'd had some sort of stress-induced hallucination. But Hermione knew herself. She knew what she was like when stressed. This wasn't it. She was absolutely certain she'd seen Ron. The how was still proving difficult.

As she tossed in her sleep, plagued by his eyes, she awoke with one thing clear. She had to get back to the classroom and recreate what had happened as best as possible. Without Terry, of course, though given the frightened looks he sent her during Charms, Hermione figured she'd scared him off by running out the door. Lucky thing too; Ron caught on to Terry's fear, and so far seemed only to shoot him angry stares when he thought Hermione wasn't paying attention. Ron was sticking close to her, insisting on walking her Runes. She'd have to find a way to fob him off in order to get her classroom plan to work.

As if by Felix, the next time she had Arithmancy happened to be when Ron had to do a final check up with Pomfrey to ensure no lingering traces of the poison were in his system. He wouldn't be able to walk her back to the tower. She promised to meet him later on, and wished him well, secretly glad for the privacy. Whatever Vector had spoken about that lecture, Hermione had no clue. It was more review, and she was far more concerned with whatever she would find in the classroom than on revision.

When the bell rang, Hermione waited outside the classroom until her watch read the same time it had when she'd left a few days previously. She marched down the corridors until she came to the room where Terry had grabbed her. Peeking her head inside, she was pleased to find it empty. Kicking around the corners to make sure nobody invisible was hiding within, she stood in the centre of the room and took in the surroundings.

It was dusty, and clearly hadn't been used in ages. In the left corner, the mirror was covered with fabric once more. It had been through it that she'd seen him. Maybe she'd been thinking about this the wrong way. What if it had been the mirror that had shown him?

Even as she thought it, she knew it was a longshot. What mirror could do such a thing? Still, she went towards it and tugged the fabric away. As she coughed against the dust motes swirling in the air, she could barely make out her reflection.

She wasn't alone.

Rubbing her eyes, trying to get the dust away, she realized the image was the same. Ron was behind her. As was Harry. Whipping around, she saw she was alone.

'If you're here under the cloak,' she called, irritation rising within her. 'this isn't funny.'

No response.

She turned back to the mirror. Neither of them had changed positions. Only…something wasn't right. Hermione stepped closer to the reflective surface. Harry and Ron looked different. She tried to put her finger on it. Nearly hitting her nose against the glass, she could make out the beginnings of laugh lines around Harry's mouth. Ron, on the other hand, had stubble that certainly wasn't there an hour ago. He too showed signs of aging. They were both older, at least mid-thirties.

Glancing at her own perturbed expression, Hermione saw that she looked the same. Why were only they older?

More importantly; what was this mirror?

Then, for the first time, she noticed that mirror Ron had his arms around her waist. A funny tug somewhere near her stomach made a not unpleasant lurch. He and Harry were both grinning down at her. Harry in the new, carefree way he had whenever he was around Ginny. Ron's was small, but she could only describe it as loving. As she watched, Ron leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek. She inhaled sharply, reaching her up her. Half expecting to feel the mark, all she felt was the flush of her cheek against her cool fingers. Harry seemed to find this funny, as he chuckled silently at her.

'What is this?' she asked aloud.

No response.

Mirror Ron continued to hold her tightly as she watched. Sometimes he would close his eyes and nuzzle into her hair, the same small smile affixed to his face. In this, whatever it was, he acted as though…as though he loved her.

The thought made her ache. Before she knew it, tears were streaming down her face. What a horribly lovely image to be presented with. The man she wanted, wanting her back. Harry, happy and carefree. Both of them older. Alive.

A small chuckle from somewhere behind her drew her back to reality. She spun around, wiping tears furiously from her eyes only to see the last person she was expecting.

'I daresay, Miss Granger, when I saw the alarm had been tripped for the second time in a week, I admit you were the last student I thought would be standing here.'

Professor Dumbledore was smiling down his crooked nose at her, arms crossed over his rich purple robes.

'I'm so sorry professor, I was trying to-' she began. Professor Dumbledore lifted his good hand at her.

'No apologies necessary, Miss Granger. It seems only fair you get to peer into its depths.'

'Fair?' she asked, before she thought better of it. 'Why? What is this?'

Dumbledore looked amused and stepped towards her.

'What do you think it is?'

She looked back at the mirror. Neither mirror Ron or Harry seemed to acknowledge Professor Dumbledore. They both continued to stare at her. The longer she looked, the more pronounced their ages seemed to be. She could almost spot the beginnings of silver near Harry's temples.

'Does it show the future?' she asked, hoping against hope for this to be the case. If it were, that would mean there might be a chance for Ron to actually care for her. Turning to look at Dumbledore, she wrung her hands together, hoping to not look like a dolt in front of the headmaster.

'Not that I believe in Divination,' she added quickly, 'but I suppose with the prophecy, sometimes it could be correct.'

The amusement dropped from the Professor's face. He scrutinized her with intensity. She tried to ignore the urge to squirm under his gaze.

'Alas, it does not,' he finally remarked. 'Though would I be wrong in assuming it showed you Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?'

Hermione nodded. 'But different.'

'How?' Dumbledore asked, cocking his head.

'They're both older.' She swallowed, trying to keep from blushing. Certainly she wasn't about to tell the Headmaster that the boy she fancied apparently fancied her back in whatever strange scenario this was.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. 'Only them?'

'What do you mean?'

'How do you see yourself, Miss Granger?'

Hermione looked back towards her reflection. While she couldn't say she was growing used to seeing these mirror versions of her best friends, there was a comfort there. They looked at peace, while she remained as she was at this moment. Pale, frightened and confused.

'Exactly as I am now, sir.'

'Fascinating,' Dumbledore observed. He looked at her, and there was a hint of melancholy in his eyes. 'You are a very loyal friend, Miss Granger.'

This time Hermione did blush. There was something about the way he'd just complimented her that didn't sit right.

He sighed and stepped closer to the mirror.

'Do you remember how Mr. Potter got the Philosopher's Stone?' Dumbledore asked.

'He reached into the Mirror of Erised,' Hermione answered, as though this were any standard Hogwarts examination. Dumbledore fixed her with a knowing look. Comprehension dawned along with a sinking feeling deep within.

'No,' she whispered, looking back at the mirror. 'No, this can't be…' she trailed off. But it had to be. Harry and Ron were behind her in the reflection, but there was no sign of Dumbledore, though she could feel his presence on her right. Gently she felt the Headmaster place his hand on her shoulder.

'I take it you remember its purpose, Miss Granger?'

Hermione nodded, her body feeling stiff and heavy. If this was the Mirror, then did that mean…

'It would seem yours is more noble than most,' Dumbledore continued, though Hermione didn't turn her head to look at him. 'That your unselfish desire is for your friends to survive.'

A sob caught in her throat.

'Not what you expected?' the Headmaster asked gently. She shook her head. Not that she'd given it much thought. Now being confronted with it, it did make sense. Hadn't she told Ron? If Harry didn't win, there was nothing for her. Ron and Harry on the other hand? They had lives to live. She wanted them to be able to do so even if she wasn't there.

And yet, the way Ron wrapped himself around her was precisely the way she longed to wrap herself around him these days. Was his love truly part of the deepest desire of her heart? The finality, the breadth of that feeling was overwhelming.

'Can it change?' she whispered. Dumbledore seemed to consider this.

'I would imagine so. For instance, I daresay Mr. Potter would see Sirius among his family were he to look into it today.' Another pang to her chest.

Dumbledore tightened his grip on her shoulder and turned her to face him. As soon as she moved, mirror Ron and Harry vanished. She missed them already.

'I daresay Mr. Potter has informed you of our discussions?'

Hermione nodded, trying to resist the urge to look back into the mirror.

'Excellent. Then I trust he's told you about Horcruxes.'

'Yes. But professor, I haven't been able to find any information about them. It's been-'

'You will. It might be you haven't been looking in the right places.'

Hermione frowned at that cryptic statement. Everyone knew if you needed information, you went to the library. That's what she did. It had not been helpful. Did he mean she hadn't been looking in the correct places?

'Harry is our best chance at defeating Voldemort,' Dumbledore continued, apparently not noticing Hermione's frustration. 'But he cannot do it alone.'

'Of course not,' Hermione cut in. He smiled at her.

'Yes. But the road ahead will not be easy. He will need you, even if he is unable to say it.'

Hermione stayed silent, the gravity of his words falling like raindrops onto her.

'You have always guided him where he needs to go. Seethat it continues.'

'I don't plan on it-' Hermione began to interrupt, but Dumbledore stopped her with a single raise of his eyebrow.

'We never plan on abandoning those we love, Miss Granger. But sometimes we are faced with impossible choices. In dark times like these, sacrifices must be made. Whatever happens, you must swear to me that you will do everything to protect him. No matter the cost. Otherwise, Mr. Potter might not reach the age at which you saw him in the mirror.'

His expression had turned serious. Hermione could feel the weight behind his words.

'I swear,' she murmured. And she meant it. Dumbledore smiled, though his expression was still grave.

'I knew you would.'

Hermione looked back towards the mirror, desperate to see once more what it looked like to have Ron love her, to watch him press his lips against her in a way she doubted he ever would. One last glance at how happy he was to have her in his arms.

'I am sorry you chanced upon it,' Dumbledore said, in a much more jovial tone of voice. This jolted her out of her stare. 'I've had quite a time trying to find it a safe home. It's being stored here temporarily. Though I think I've found just the place.' Frustrated, Hermione didn't think before responding.

'St. Margaret's cave of wonders?' she asked, tone dry. With a pang, Hermione tore her gaze from Mirror Ron only to see Dumbledore looking perplexed.

'I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with that story. Could you tell it to me?'

'Oh,' Hermione began, suddenly embarrassed. 'It's not really a story. It's something my nanny used to tell me. That there was a cave along the white cliffs where St. Margaret was supposed to hold a treasure. But anyone who wasn't worthy would be unable to pass through its walls. I don't think it's a real place. She used it to frighten me into not reading under my blankets at night. Said all my books would end up in there and I'd never see them again.' She blushed, feeling exposed. What a terribly silly thing to tell one of the most powerful wizards in the world.

'The white cliffs,' Dumbledore repeated to himself, a faraway look in his eyes. He seemed to shake his head for a moment. 'What an intriguing idea. I must say, I'm happy I found you in here today, Miss Granger. I thought I'd have to wait until your Head's interview to communicate with you. Though it seems I will have to do so with Mr. Weasley.'

Hermione had completely forgotten about the Head's interview. The nerves about it returned in full force.

'Professor, I-'

'No need to worry, Miss Granger. I have no doubt you'll do excellently. Now, is there anything else you'd like to ask me?' He fixed her with those exacting eyes again. Hermione shook her head.

'Not unless you have any idea where I might find records of the best potioneers at the school, sir.'

Dumbledore seemed to consider this for a moment.

'I supposed I'd try the Prophets.'

'Excuse me?'

'There is an archive of Daily Prophets in the library. You'll have to ask Madame Pince for them. As a matter of fact, you'd be best to tell her that I told you about them. She gets very concerned that people will rip out pages.'

He smiled at her. Hermione looked back at him in surprise.

'Thank you. I'll be sure to try it.'

'Wonderful. Now if you'll excuse me, I must send you out of this room. It will do you no good to spend your precious time staring at what might be. Far better to focus on how to get there.'

With that, he ushered her out of the room. He tipped his hat at her and began striding in the direction of where she believed his office to be.

'Ah, and Miss Granger?'

'Yes, professor?'

'It would be best not to mention this to Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley. I don't want either of them looking for it again.'

'Yes sir.'

He beamed at her once more, and strode off down the corridor. Hermione was left outside the door, feeling suddenly bereft. It was one thing to have thought Ron had seen her and Terry arguing. It was entirely another to realize that he formed part of her heart's desire.

She blushed at the thought. Then with a shake of her head, she decided she'd best head down to the library. Perhaps the Prophets would prove the key to solving this Prince mystery. After all, as she'd promised Professor Dumbledore, protecting Harry was her ultimate priority.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviews and follows the story! I am very thankful for all of you!