"You don't think it's true, do you?" Pansy asked Hermione over potions.
"I do," Hermione nodded. "He hasn't shown any evidence to the contrary, now has he? Try cutting the stems diagonally."
"But he's so..." Pansy mused following Hermione's instructions. "Handsome!"
"He doesn't get a pass for being pretty," Hermione rolled her eyes before muttering to Neville. "You only want three large scales."
"I forgot you like them incompetent," Pansy teased scraping her stems into her cauldron. "Though I suppose he is the only one you have a chance with."
Hermione cast a spell on her cauldron once her ingredients were mixed, then on the flame beneath it to moderate the temperature. "If I liked incompetence I would be fawning over the great idiot like you!"
Malfoy turned around to join the conversation with a nauseating grin. "I actually agree with her, Pansy. Being pretty isn't everything, and she would definitely be aware of that. Too bad about your partner in fame, eh, Potter? No signed photo-ops now that he's been exposed."
"Shove off, Malfoy," Harry hissed.
Ron had leaned over Harry and Neville's desks to glare at him.
Go fuck a duck, Malfoy! "I'd rather be ugly than stupid," she rolled her eyes and held up her hand to pause Ron. "Should your potion really be that colour?"
Malfoy's pale pointed face went from ivory to white as he quickly turned to his potion which, unfortunately was brewing correctly, but she still shared a laugh under her breath with Neville over his gullibility.
Her relief was short lived as her guilt returned. She was done asking herself if she was a good person. You are what you do, and Hermione wasn't doing nice things. She wanted to give herself leeway with Malfoy. She was so tired of his underhanded japes about her appearance, her mother, and her unknown origins. What was worse was the mocking of Harry's dead parents, particularly that of Harry's muggleborn mother. His japes toward all the muggleborns he knew about made her want to hit the bastard. Then there was his treatment of Ron...constantly egging him on by insulting his family's honour and snivelling to her father. And he attacked Neville on a weekly basis. Was it bad for Hermione to desire a little bit of justice?
"You bitch," he whispered after ensuring her father was safely preoccupied with Lavender gagging over her serpent tongue.
"I'm-I'm comfortable with the fact I'm a complete bitch," Hermione shrugged. That sure sounded comfortable! Shit!
"I don't think you're a bitch," Neville offered trying to split the tiny snake tongue on his tray.
"You don't have to say that, Neville. Oh, here," Hermione offered taking the tweezers and scalpel delicately splitting it in half before dropping the left bit into the cauldron for him. "Wait exactly one minute before adding the right half."
Hermione turned back to her work as her father loomed over her, Neville and Pansy, Harry and Ron.
"As both a teacher and a parent, there are certain words that my ears are fine-tuned to. Explain."
"We're sorry," Hermione nodded. "We'll watch our language, sir."
"It was Potter, sir!" Malfoy answered before Pansy could pin it elsewhere.
Damn it, even if he did know better, Hermione knew her father would relish in any excuse to punish Harry. "I don't know why you're trying to cover for me, Draco," Hermione sighed before turning to her father. "Surely you noticed it was a female voice, sir?"
"I noticed several voices, Hermione," he said. "But I'm happy to drop it for now before you dig yourself a deeper grave. Let's see..." he marked their potions in relative silence until he reached Neville's.
"Seems you forgot to add the second half of the serpent's tongue," he said. "Perhaps, if you didn't rely on a girl half your size for everything you'd be able to handle the simplest of tasks."
Sniggering once again filled the dungeon and Hermione wanted to scream. How could he get after her for attacking Lockhart's character when he actively bullied unassuming kids like Neville? So, he was pants at potions, so what? He didn't deserve such treatment. And why does he insist on dragging me into it? He can't still be upset about me helping Neville with his homework...okay forging his homework, but that was on me!
"One of these days I'm sure some information will get through that thick skull of yours," he sighed. "But I won't hold my breath for such a day. I simply don't-" his gaze wavered to Hermione and he fell silent.
Hermione's anger faded to curiousity. Was he sorry, annoyed, angry? Once again his face didn't betray any emotion.
"Evanesco!" he vanished the contents of Neville's cauldron. "Prove me wrong, Longbottom. Try again."
"Hi, Hermione!" Luna all but skipped up to her.
"L-Luna!" Hermione said feeling the sudden weight tug on her arm.
Ron gave a laugh at the sight of Luna clinging at Hermione's arm. "New friend?"
"Oh, Harry, Ron," Hermione freed her arm. "This is Luna. She's in Ginny's year."
"Hi!" she waved.
"Wait, Luna...Lovegood?" Ron eyed Luna with suspicion.
Luna nodded and still smiled and Ron grabbed Hermione to whisper in her ear.
"Looney Lovegood?" Ron gasped. "Hermione, that's social suicide!"
"So am I , Ron!" Hermione hissed. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Erm," Harry spoke at a volume Luna could hear. "It's nice to meet you."
"Thanks!" she said. "You're Harry Potter, that must mean you're Ron!"
"Must be," he sighed releasing Hermione's arm.
Fuck, that actually kind of hurt, "Is there anything you needed, Luna?" Hermione rubbed her arm.
Luna's silver eyes widened and she played with her bottle cap necklace for a bit. "I just saw you and thought I'd say hi."
"Oh," Hermione nervously wrung her hands. "Sorry, I, erm-" Tell her I'm used to people only coming to me if they need something? No, not doing that! She noticed the sheaf of papers in her arms and found her out. "I just noticed the papers and thought you needed something."
"Oh, these," she brandished one. "I'm just putting up flyers for my things. You see they go missing sometimes, so I offer rewards for their return."
Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. People stole her things and got a reward for returning them! Hermione had only had that happen once-where it didn't involve a troll, a dragon or a cerebus she hadn't thought about it till now-and she was embarrassed and livid. She suddenly remembered walking back to the common room from the baths in December with nothing but a towel and her wand. Luckily no one caught her, or she'd definitely have put more stock into it. How could I forget? That was humiliating, if this routinely happens to Luna... Hermione shook her head and pulled out her wand remembering her time scouring through the library after that incident.
"Luna," Hermione took out her wand. "Actually, Harry, Ron, pay attention too." they gathered round as she whispered. "After something happened last year I learned a summoning spell. If the arses that steal your things don't enchant them in some way. And it is hard to do. Can I see one of those flyers, Luna?"
"Sure," she whispered and Hermione studied the image of her shoes. Luckily uniforms made everything simpler. Had her trainers been missing, it might have been a challenge, but her school shoes were identical to all the other girls' shoes. She set the image in her head after studying Luna's small feet, similar in size to her own, waved her wand and muttered "Accio Luna's shoes!"
For a while nothing happened, Ron and Harry exchanged a curious look and Luna simply waited, whether it was because she knew how the spell worked or because she trusted her, she didn't know. Hermione was starting to lose faith it worked this time.
"Maybe whoever taught you that one lied to you," Ron mimicked her from their first train-ride. "Most spells do have a base in Latin, you know."
Just as Ron made that comment a pair of black girl's shoes came whizzing through the air, and Ron just barely avoided being hit in the head by one of them as they landed in Hermione's arms.
"You were saying?" Hermione smirked. "And Accio is based in Latin, by the way."
Harry and Luna started laughing, Harry a reserved snigger and Luna howling. Hermione felt vindicated for a bit, but when she looked at Ron, his ears flushing a furious pink, she remembered every time she had been made to feel inadequate.
"Erm, sorry," Hermione wrung her hands again. "It did take a while longer than it should," she lied. "I haven't quite mastered it yet, so you weren't wrong to doubt it."
Luna started summoning her items one by one, each item coming quicker than the last. She was more familiar with the items, sure, but Hermione remembered working so hard to get something to come to her from a room away in December of her first year, and Luna was only in the October of her first year, and she had just learned the spell. But she performed it without a flaw. It wasn't fair. Life's not fair...Don't be jealous, you don't get to be the only smart girl...but even the spell I cast now took a lot more concentration on my part. Maybe I'm not as smart as I think...Stop it! Stop it!
"Are you okay, Hermione?" Luna said summoning her copy of Son of Hermes and the Huntress of the Moon.
"Just wondering if S.B Sugarquills ever intends on writing the fifth installment of the series."
"Not the ruddy Son of Hermes books again," Ron groaned. "We should go before this turns into a book club meeting , Harry."
"Erm," Harry blushed. "I'm actually almost finished the first book."
"Really, mate?"
"Hermione talked me into it!" he said as if Hermione pushed crack instead of a children's book series.
"I talked Neville, Fred and George into it too!" she grinned. "I plan on lending Thirteen Tasks to Ginny when Harry's done with it. You'll be the only one who doesn't know what Arabelling or pulling a Jason is."
Luna gave a loud laugh again as she dug her copy of Thirteen Tasks out of her bag. "I was re-reading it, but if you want you can burrow it," she beamed.
Hermione couldn't stop herself from chanting "one-of-us!" and Harry and Luna joined in.
"Erm, Harry?" Neville choked appearing form behind them. "Is everything, erm, what, erm, okay?"
"Just convincing Ron to read the Son of Hermes books," Luna explained. "One of us!"
Neville turned to Ron. "They are really fun. Hermione lent me them last year. Far better than the other book she lent me last year. Ugh, I still get nightmares from that one."
"What on earth did you lend him?" Ron asked. "The Necronomicon?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. Neville had such a problem with bullies, that Hermione lent him Carrie. It was one of those books where Hermione was sufficiently made anxious over real bullies, disgusted and sympathetic to the characters, and despite the emotional rollercoaster, she felt some form of catharsis. She had been stupid enough to think Neville would have the same relationship with the book. He didn't even finish it.
Severus heard some very familiar voices chanting while he made his way back from the library. 'One of us!' chants and laughter echoed through the corridor and he found the culprits, two small girls, the bushy-haired girl, Hermione, helping the blond girl off the ground as Neville Longbottom approached from the other end of the corridor. It looked as if it were Hermione, Lovegood and Potter tormenting Weasley over something. Longbottom spoke, and they started speaking. Severus could now hear every word. To his surprise, they were simply discussing books.
"Carrie," Hermione sighed. "A muggle sci-fi horror novel. It's about a bullied and abused muggle girl who develops telekenisis-the ability to move things with your mind-it's written like American police reports and it ends-"
"Don't spoil it!" Lovegood cried clapping her ears over her ears dramatically. "I want to read it."
"Really?" Hermione nearly squealed. "That's fantastic! I'll lend it to you tomorrow. You'll love Carrie! Do you like manga? My friend Hiro had me translate this one about-"
Are you really so happy about that disgusting novel? He could lament over their lack of bonding over it, but he prioritised insisting it wasn't age appropriate rather than discussing it with her. However, he was right about it. Not that it matters now. I'm just happy she's bonding over something other than her immediate usefulness to those around her...I'm not walking around them unnoticed.
"Might I suggest," he set his hand on top of Hermione's head. "You hold your little book club elsewhere? Others need to walk through the corridors. Might I suggest the library as such a venue? I believe you're familiar with it, Hermione?"
Hermione looked up at him before nodding. "Yessir, sorry."
"And I would also advise you to refrain from chanting like a cult gathering in the corridors," he took time to look at each of them. "People might think you're up to no good."
Potter and Weasley managed to appear some what embarrassed, looking at the ground. Lovegood nodded with an easy smile next to Hermione. Longbottom had shifted closer to Potter. Perhaps Hermione's proximity to him made her a poor shield for him at the moment. He had wanted to say something about hiding behind his friends, but he remembered the way Hermione looked at him back in class and let it go.
"Yessir," Hermione nodded.
"Very well" he said. "I shall leave you to it."
He walked by them keeping an ear out as he passed.
"I swear, that miserable prat's always eaves dropping on us!" Weasley seethed.
"Ron!" Hermione spat. "Did you notice the bloody books in his arms? He was just coming back from the library."
"Probably to spy on you!" Potter hissed. "You can't pretend he hasn't in the past."
"Jesus, Harry!" she snapped. "I really wish you two would leave him alone," her voice softened.
"If he left us alone, we would!" Potter said.
"What are the chances you have a partner in crime willing to dig up some dirt on Snape like you did with Lockhart?"
You never should have told those boys, love. Weasley can't be trusted with anything...
"Not so loud!" Hermione hissed. "And I'll have you know if anyone goes after my fucking father I will go full Artemis on their ass!"
Weasley wasn't the only one having trouble keeping his volume down as Lovegood burst into laughter, and Longbottom shared a laugh with Potter over the reference.
"I don't get that reference!" Weasley snarled.
"You would if you just read the damn book!" Hermione yelled.
Severus couldn't help but smirk as the bickering grew quieter into the distance. After everything that boy had thrown at her, it seemed like Hermione was finally getting the better of Weasley. Perhaps if his efforts didn't pan out, that was one thing he could look forward to.
"I see, Severus," Dumbledore said. "I thought you might be interested in seeing her advance. If for no other reason than to see her no longer in classes with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley."
"I, too, am surprised headmaster," he said in an even voice. "My personal distaste for the boys aside, you seemed to be thrilled that she involved herself with those two. So why separate them?"
Dumbledore gave a crooked smile and peered at him from over his glasses with a knowing glimmer in his blue eyes. "You always see through me, Severus," he sighed. "Had I-" whatever Dumbledore was about to say, he changed his mind. "She's incredibly advanced for her age, but you are right to suspect I have more on my mind than Hermione's academics. Of course, her choices are her own, but if she chooses to fight by Harry Potter's side when the time comes-"
"I consented to be a pawn in your plan a long time ago," Severus explained. "And I will stand by that decision, but you do not get to make a pawn of my child!"
"Do you not think I've grown to care for the girl, Severus?" Dumbledore nearly whispered.
A silence filled the room and Dumbledore's face fell, and those damn eyes gazed at him over his glasses with the quiet anger and disappointment that only he was capable of conveying. He didn't need to say it, Severus felt the older man's emotions by looking at his face. Dumbledore cared for Hermione, but Potter and the mission came first. He knew Dumbledore would kill for Hermione, but he would also throw her in the line of fire if it meant saving Potter. Again, Severus mused on how he made Hermione's life worse by adopting her rather than better. He wondered if he was the only person she wasn't expendable to...I should have been more proactive in separating them last year...
"I'll concede it'll add to her own chances of survival," he admitted. "If you believe there's no way to dissuade her when it comes time."
Dumbledore's thin lips formed a smile once more, Severus often felt like he was playing checkers while Dumbledore played chess. He only knew what was necessary, and no words could describe the horror that he felt now Hermione was involved. What was that damn knowing smile about?
"If there is one trait she picked up from you," he finally said. "It's sheer stubbornness. I never intended for her to involve herself. When she did start hanging around those boys I feared it would be a complication. However, it seems to be quiet the opposite. And now that she is involved, do you think either of us could really convince her to abandon them should the time to make a stand come?"
He was right. Hermione had a very strong sense of right and wrong from an incredibly young age. Severus remembered the little girl that cried at his knee over the plight of house elves and thought Goblins were unfairly segregated from the rest of the magical community. Whatever she lacked in her sense of self, she never wavered on her morals. His best bet the minute he found her with Potter was to remove her then.
"We don't know when Voldemort will come back," Dumbledore said. "I'm still hoping they'll be grown before the time comes."
Severus nodded stiffly. Eleven years and he still expected Voldemort to appear at the sound of his name to quell any resistance.
"It will be easier," Dumbledore said. "to keep an eye on her and Harry this way, won't it?"
"Hardly the point, sir," Severus said. "That being said, since Quirrell, I imagine he'll have a hard time finding another body to cling too. He'll have to regain his strength before possessing a human again. Perhaps they will be grown by the time the prophecy comes to pass." If she's involved, I won't be ready then either.
"Hermione's safety is paramount to me as well, Severus," he said. "But is a better world for her not worth the risk to you? And what of making amends for Lily?"
Severus's heart stopped at the mention of her name. Lily, he had been the cause of her death. He still loved her deeply, and desperately wanted to do right by her memory. Make up for the damage he caused. Hermione was his world, but in so many ways the memory of a dead woman who never shared his feelings over shadowed her. Just the mention of her name brought her face to mind. Guilt tied a knot in his throat and he clenched his fist at his side. The cruel reality was that he would always love her, but he could never make things right. The best he could hope for was vengeance against Voldemort and keeping her son alive.
It's alright, love, Daddy's got you...
"I can't believe I'm about to say this," he leaned in very close. "I'll kill and even lay down my life for Lily's son, but if it's ever a choice between him and my daughter, you need to know that I'll kill the boy myself if I thought it'd spare Hermione."
A dead silence filled the room once more and Dumbledore's lips formed a thin line as he stared at him, deep in thought. Dumbledore let him off for his crimes for one reason, and now that was compromised. Perhaps he shouldn't have told him, but he was right to have assumed Hermione would be a complication. Had he never found her, Severus would have no reason to doubt his own resolve to the cause. In truth, until Quirrell threatened Hermione he never did question his resolve. That needed to be out there. Dumbledore had to be confident in the decisions he made going forward. There was no room for error, or Severus's wavering loyalty. He just hoped that if Dumbledore would either send him to Azkaban or eliminate him that he would be given time to find Hermione a suitable guardian. He could no longer trust Dumbledore with that.
"As I would expect, Severus," Dumbledore's eyes searched him. "Arthur and Molly Weasley had admitted to the same. Though their role is hardly as pivotal as yours."
The blood froze in his veins. You are fine with whatever decision he makes. You were always ready lay down your own life, you fucking coward, don't back down now. Just please don't let that interaction in the corridors be the last time I see Hermione... He stole himself and spoke in a quiet, but even voice. "Can you still trust me?"
"With my life, Severus," Dumbledore said clutching his shoulder. "I don't doubt your resolve. Your daughter isn't a liability. Knowing your daughter's true parentage only makes my confidence in your resolve stronger."
He nodded stiffly. Severus did everything he could to purge records of his 'discovery' of Hermione. There was one very simple reason he did everything he could to cast doubt on the potential of her being muggleborn. If she were found out, she would be in danger. How he wished he knew eleven years ago that he'd be claiming her from the start. That stupid, stupid claim about finding her in an alley behind a muggle take-away would forever haunt not just him, but Hermione as well.
The two men sat in silence until they head the staircase ascending. There was nowhere to go from there, Dumbledore knew bringing up Hermione's muggle heritage would end his objections. Dumbledore knew exactly how to play Severus, if his feelings towards Lily didn't work, his worry for Hermione did.
"Ah, Minevra," Dumbledore greeted her warmly. "Precisely on time as always."
McGonagall stood, her arms filled with books and papers. She, too, it appeared had mounted a defense, almost as thorough as his own. Though the advancement seemed to be far from her mind as her lips formed a thin line and her beady eyes examined the two. "Have I walked in on something?"
"I'm afraid that those won't be necessary," Severus said, collecting himself. "The headmaster has already convinced me that this is the best for Hermione."
"I did not imagine it would be so easy to convince you, Severus," McGonagall said. "I assumed you would be hesitant to advance her two years."
"Well, you imagined-TWO YEARS?!"
"Nick's been sulking about the headless hunt again," Harry collapsed into an overstuffed arm chair in the common room. "He's holding a deathday party on Hallowe'en if you two want to come. I can't say no, not when he looks at me like that."
"Really?" Ron grimaced. "Sounds dead depressing."
Hermione mused for a bit. She grew up surrounded by ghosts, but never once attended one of their gatherings. It could be very fascinating. She could learn quite a bit about ghost customs, and as dull as she knew it sounded, the idea thrilled her. "Well, " Hermione closed Charming Theories: Principles of Psychological Charms. "You celebrate your birthday, don't you? The day a ghost dies is the day their life as a ghost begins. It's the same thing."
"But less morbid," Ron scoffed. "Don't remember any recollections about murder or horrific accidents at my birthdays, do you?"
Hermione rolled her eyes remembering that Ron had become a bit of a prat on his twelfth birthday in March. But it's my birthday, he whined more than once while asking for favours from Harry and Hermione. Like being born was some great accomplishment. "I don't celebrate my birthday, Ron," she sighed. "The accomplishment belongs to the woman who gave birth to me, all I did was survive."
"I do not understand your family," Ron shook his head. "And didn't you nearly die loads of times as a baby? Surviving might just be an accomplishment."
"Three isn't loads, Ron," Hermione sighed. "And I attribute my survival to the healers."
Ron groaned and rolled his eyes. "What about you, mate? Were your birthday celebrations filled with morose tales?"
"Dursleys didn't do much for my birthday save throw some hand-me-down socks at me," Harry explained. "Though Dudley's birthday parties make me think that Ron's right."
"Honestly," Hermione now reviewed her Charms essay. "I wouldn't expect Dudley's treatment to be anything close to normal. I honestly wonder whether they spoil him so much because they think it's best for him or because they think it's worse for you."
Harry mused for a bit. "I don't even think they're that spiteful. Though I reckon the comparisons a fringe benefit every July thirty-first."
"July thirty-first?" Hermione said. "I'll knit you a pair of non-Vernon contaminated socks."
'You don't have to," Harry said sheepishly.
"You knit?" Ron chuckled.
"I grew up in near isolation," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't care if it's an old lady hobby. I had to get my hands on any hobby I could."
"You could have taken up something cooler," Ron said. "Maybe drawing? Or an instrument?"
"I painted the mural in the entrance hall, remember?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And I play the flute. Might I ask-" No, that'd be a bitch move, don't do it, stupid piece of shit. "Never mind."
"Barmy aren't you?" Ron shook his head. "Sometimes I think you can't settle on a thought long enough to speak it."
Hermione sent her eyes to heaven and stashed her in progress essay with her library book. "I must be," she sighed. "My follow-up on Lockhart isn't going well. I could write on the death day party. It's that or I have nothing for the next issue."
"Thanks," Harry smiled. "What about you, Ron?"
Ron combed over his own essay. "It's either that or only talk to my brothers and Ginny at the feast. I'll go."
"You two are the best," Harry beamed.
"We know mate," Ron smirked.
Hermione rolled her eyes before offering to look over their homework for them. She spent some time on restructuring their points until she realised it just wouldn't do. She took their points, made an outline and created an annotated bibliography of books she'd already read on Charms, including the one she was reading. An hour later and both boys had very clear instructions, which was received with sombre dread by Harry and disgust by Ron.
"Is that really all necessary?" Ron said. "This is due on Friday, Hermione!"
"If you want it to be decent it is!" Hermione snapped wishing for the hour back before the guilt came back. "Sorry," she sighed. "I'm not upset, just-"
"Disappointed!" Harry and Ron groaned.
"Let me see the bibliographies?" Hermione asked.
They did so and crossed the several books from each, choosing both books that would be best for their points and made sure their was no crossover. She then listed the exact chapters she recalled would be helpful. Thank you memory! "This should be more manageable."
"I'd be lost without you," Ron smiled.
"Erm, thanks," she wrung her hands nervously together and looked at her feet.
"Thank you, Hermione," Harry said. "I should have prioritised this over Thirteen Tasks. But that does remind me, I'm done if you want your copy back."
"You finished?" Hermione beamed. "That's great! I'll get Pearls of Persephone so you can read it next! There are some huge revelations Luna and I are dying to talk to someone else about!"
"What about Fred and George? Neville?" Harry asked. "It might take me till the holidays if the Professors keep piling homework like this."
"They're happy to read the books," Hermione explained. "But after their initial discussions or occaisional jokes, they don't much talk about them. And Neville refuses to say which one of us he thinks is right."
"If you can wait till Christmas," Harry conceded. "I'm happy to trade theories with you."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You have no idea how long I've waited to talk about these books with someone other than my dad. I can wait two months."
"Snape read these books?" Harry snorted. "I can hardly picture that!"
"Yeah," Hermione nodded. Why is it so funny? "We used to read them together every night before bed."
"Wait," Ron's eyes narrowed. "Son of Hermes isn't your thing, is it?"
"I'm sorry?" Hermione couldn't hide the confusion in her voice.
Ron rolled his eyes and spoke as if she were five. "You know? Like Mum and I have chess, or Dad and I have Pro-Quidditch stats?"
Dad and I do crossword puzzles sometimes, maybe that's our thing? Cards? Are children supposed to have things with their parents? Doesn't matter, he's always making fun of me for liking Son of Hermes so that can't be it, can it? "Oh! That's what you meant by our thing?" she forced a laugh. "Of course not! It's an insanely popular book series, Ron. I don't see how a parent could see it as their thing. I'll give Ginny the book and grab the second one. Be right back!"
Hermione walked slowly up to the stairs wondering if she was somehow letting Harry encroach on her father's territory. He didn't seem upset when she said Hiro and Kaori were reading them. She would find another book series for them to share. What was the name he kept dropping when Hermione was too curious? Nancy Drew? If that was a series, she'd recommend it. She climbed to the first-year girls' dormitory and knocked on the door softly. There were only two girls in Gryffindor that year, Ginny and a mousy girl named Maureen Heath, the latter of which was sitting with Pavarti and Lavender down stairs. It was after curfew, so Ginny was either here, milling about the corridors or in a broom cupboard.
They'd only had stilted conversations since that night, neither willing to acknowledge it happened. Hermione understood that, she was nothing but grateful when Harry and Ron neglected to ask her why she was in the toilet last Hallowe'en, and the Patil twins didn't follow up about 'her illness' and her father didn't pry into why she was there when he suspected she was lying. No one wanted to be caught crying. Though Hermione wished she knew why Ginny was crying that night.
Hermione knocked again, a little harder this time. She waited a moment and sighed, maybe she was elsewhere or asleep. She bowed her head and began to go back upstairs when she heard the door open behind her.
"Hermione?" Ginny whispered, opening the door a crack.
Hermione turned around. Ginny's already pale face drained further, looking almost white against her red hair and red-rimmed eyes. Crying again? "Are you okay?"
Ginny shook her head, swallowed and beckoned her forward.
Ginny let her in to the room, which was just as Hermione remembered save a K-pop group poster on Maureen's side of the room, and the room now only had two beds instead of three. Ginny brushed her limp hair out of her face and sat on her bed. Hermione nervously joined her before casting mufliatio just in case Maureen came up to get anything.
Ginny fiddled with the sleeves of her night dress and bit her lip, eventually her brown eyes found her own, and Hermione felt this was so much more than first-year adjusting problems or bullying. Her blanched skin, messy hair, tear soaked face. Something was very wrong with her, which Ginny only confirmed by throwing her arms around Hermione and sobbing.
Hermione hugged her back and soothed her hair. She wondered what she should say to her. Only Neville had ever come crying to her before, and Hermione could normally make a comment about Draco Malfoy, or assert his competence, or do his homework. But here, Hermione had no clue what to do but soothe her hair and hold her. Should she ask? I have to fix this...
"Can I ask what happened?" Hermione asked. "I've cast a spell, no one will hear us."
Ginny separated herself from Hermione when and wiped her eyes. "I-I-I think I need help," she said. "I think I'm going mad!"
"Ginny," Hermione squeezed her shoulders. "Why do you think you're going mad?" Did someone mess with your memories?
Ginny looked down at her folded hands in her lap, she grew quiet, the sobs stopped as she took a deep breath. "You said no one can hear us?"
Hermione nodded hoping her father was the only person who knew how to dispel mufilatio.
"I-erm-I, you see, Hermione, I-erm-I-" Ginny took in another deep breath before her eyes drifted to a pile of books on her pillow. "Actually," Ginny took up an erect posture and looked very much like Hermione felt every time she shouted 'I'm fine' when she was very clearly not. "It's so stupid," she forced a laugh.
"It's not stupid, Ginny," Hermione said gently.
"It's been a month and I still can't shake this stupid crush I have on Harry!"
This has to be exactly how my father feels when try to distract him. She thought about calling Ginny on it, or mentioning that everyone knew about her crush, but she figured that'd only make things worse. Was there a clue in the books she looked at?
Hermione cast a covert glance to the pile of books, all she had were a few spellotaped standard issue textbooks, Voyages with Vampires and her diary, partially covered by the other books. Perhaps she covered it when she heard the knock to hide it. Hermione might have tried the same thing. She looked back to Ginny to ensure her gaze didn't get caught.
"Is that really what's upsetting you, Ginny?" Hermione asked gently. "You know I won't say a word no matter what it is. I've spent-" don't make this about you! "It doesn't matter why, but last year, I spent a lot of time questioning my own sanity. I know what it's like to feel like you've lost your damn mind. Please let me help?"
Ginny bit her lip, she considered something, but changed her mind with a shake of her head. "Have you really questioned your own sanity?"
"Yes," she nodded with her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't want to confess the details...
How many times had she felt crazy? Trying to make friends? Not seeing a solid image in the Mirror of Erised immediately when her friends did? Not knowing if it was girls or boys she liked since she was sent to Japan? And when most importantly when her father erased her memory. She was certain she was going mad. A fact that wasn't helped when the choices were she was going mad or her father was a Death Eater. She still questioned so much...
"They're calling you the brightest witch of our age," Ginny spoke quietly. "How could you possibly doubt your mind?"
"Books and cleverness," Hermione scoffed. "Hardly makes up for knowing what's real and what's not. But if you're questioning your sanity, you know that."
Ginny looked at Hermione as if she were seeing her in a whole new light, and Hermione instantly regretted this. The shock on Ginny's face told her that she no longer trusted her. That whatever sensitive information she was debating on sharing couldn't be safe with the crazy bitch in front of her. Hermione wanted to cry too now. How pathetic. She needs...well maybe not you.
"If you don't think you can tell me," Hermione admitted. "It's fine. But if it's serious, you might need help. And," she sighed digging her nails into her own hands now. "You need to ask if this is magical in nature. If someone's messed with your mind. That might be your answer..."
"Is that what happened to you?"
Not entirely, and I wasn't exactly sane before, she thought back to all her father's claims of neurotic or self-destructive behaviour. "It doesn't matter," Hermione shrugged."But you do. If you change your mind, let me know?"
Ginny nodded still wide-eyed and Hermione doubted Ginny would come to her again. One thing did bother Hermione as she went down stairs to give Harry her book. Was Ginny's mental state at all related to Harry's hearing voices? It could have been a coincidence, but Hermione just couldn't shake the feeling that they were related.
Tomorrow's Hallowe'en. After the Death Day party I'll see what I can dig up while everyone's at still at the feast. I just need an excuse to leave early...