Remus stepped out of the fireplace in Dumbledore's office with practiced ease and vanished the soot from his clothes with a flick of his wand before he took his first breath. Breathing in mid-transit was never a good idea, especially being a werewolf with heightened senses.

But as he opened his sinuses and looked at Albus, who was waiting with two cups of tee already poured, he almost stumbled.

There was an almost overwhelming presence in the air, something that positively told him… off.

He shouldn't be here.

Hogwarts was…

Remus swallowed and shook his head, trying to get rid of the threatening feeling.

Apparently, Hogwarts was off-limits?

It felt as if another pack had come here and claimed that space, which he knew was impossible, but he recognized that feeling — knew it well, in fact. Places where werewolves congregated and lived for an extended period felt like this, places that were seen as territory. It wasn't impossible to enter those as an outsider, but it was unpleasant.

The impressions Remus fought against just now were very unpleasant.

"Remus, is everything all right?" Albus' voice brought him back to the here and now.

He looked up. "Yes, forgive me, I'm feeling… a bit under the weather."

The older man smiled sadly. "Do you have a stable supply of Wolfsbane? I know you suffer more than others from that curse."

"I do, the quality isn't what it could be, though. But we get by." He didn't feel like elaborating on his current living conditions and hoped that Albus would get the hint and not offer Snivellus' services again.

"If that changes, please don't hesitate to contact me. I'm here for you." His old friend motioned to the empty seat in front of the massive desk. "Tea?"

"Oh, yes, thank you." Remus sat down and sighed. He was tired, and his back hurt a bit from being up all night. Also, sitting down made the oppressive feeling slightly more bearable. "Say, has something happened since I came here last time? Something out of the ordinary, I mean?"

Albus gave him a curious glance over his glasses and seemed to think for a moment. "Hm, not that I can recall… but it might escape me at the moment. You're familiar with the outcome of Undersecretary Umbridge's reign of this school?"

Remus swallowed a growl. "I am, and that blasted woman should be in Azkaban if you ask me."

Surprisingly, Albus nodded. "Indeed, she seems to have gotten off that whole disaster with little consequence to her career."

"But nothing else? What about Harry and his friends, how are they doing?"

Albus smiled as he raised his cup to his lips. "Quite well, as far as I know. No more Dementors, escapees, or magical tournaments. Both young Ronald and Harry had a bit of an accident at the beginning of the month, though, but thankfully nothing major happened. Alas, Gryffindor's most recent Quidditch game probably wasn't as successful as they'd hoped for."

Remus grunted. "Didn't Harry get the Snitch in time?"

"I believe he fell off his broom."

"What?"

Albus made a calming gesture. "It's all right, Remus, he wasn't seriously injured. But he was taken out early, leaving his teammates a bit distraught."

"Hm." Remus took a deep breath and tried to feel into that strange barrier that had seemingly permeated Hogwarts. "Did you hire new staff, or are there new students?"

"Why are you asking?" Steely blue eyes were focusing on him now. "Do you sense something out of the ordinary?"

He shook his head, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know… maybe I'm overreacting. I've been up all night and I feel irritable. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm asking a lot of you, and I know how much you have sacrificed already, Remus."

"You're welcome." He reached into his robes and removed a sealed letter. "I believe this is what you were asking for?"

"Indeed." Albus reached for it. "You have my gratitude, Remus. I hope they didn't give you any difficulties?"

"No, the Unspeakables were almost cordial." Remus smiled a bit.

"That's good to hear. Maybe we can ask them for another favor when the time comes," the Headmaster mused. "Can I do anything for you right now, other than offering my thanks?"

He tried to muster his Gryffindor courage. "Actually… there is. Would you mind if I took a little tour? Being here, it's… I thought since there are no classes today, I wouldn't interrupt anyone by taking a look at James' and Sirius' old haunts."

"I understand, and please, you're welcome." Albus nodded again. "Stay as long as you like."

"Thank you." Remus stood up. "Will you facilitate my departure, or shall I knock at Minerva's office?"

Albus angled his head slightly. "If you don't mind, can you ask her to open the Floo Network? I'll probably be away for a few hours on ICW business now."

"Of course. It was good seeing you."

"Likewise, old friend."

As he left the Headmaster's office, Remus folded his hands behind his back like he'd often done as a Defense Professor during patrols and tried to not grimace as the feeling of being a trespasser increased.

Whatever — no, whoever — this was… they had to be very powerful.

He also suspected that it had nothing to do with magic, not in the traditional way. It wasn't a particular scent per se that was threatening him so much, it went beyond that. Being a werewolf, even an unwilling one, he was aware of the almost mystical aspects of the curse.

And there were more things out in the world than what Hogwarts' books described.

Whoever had claimed the castle as theirs, and Remus thought that a person or even a group was more likely than an artifact, they felt… primal. Very primal, and not at all magical, not the way ley lines and ritual circles positively smelled of magic. Also, Albus hadn't been aware of anything, so it probably was something else.

Remus squared his jaw as he wandered through Hogwart's corridors, not for a trip down memory lane, but to try and find the source of the oppressive feeling.

He met several students on their way to their Common Rooms, the Great Hall, or outside to go to Hogsmeade, and greeted most of them fondly. His sleuthing attempts were interrupted though when a young redhead rounded a corner in front of him, with a pale blonde girl in tow.

Ron's sister, Ginny, and Luna Lovegood.

Both girls smiled at him.

"Mister Lupin! What are you doing here? Are you returning as a Professor?"

"Hello, Miss Weasley, Miss Lovegood. I'm afraid I'm not."

Ginny sighed. "Figures. Well, we miss you, you were a good teacher."

Luna nodded, and then she eyed him critically. "Are you okay, Mister Lupin? You look like you've been chased by Nargles."

Remus couldn't help but smile in return. "I'm fine, thank you. I just haven't slept in a while."

"Are you here to help Harry, then?" Ginny gave him a serious look now. "Since you taught him so much else, he always talked about how the DA wouldn't exist without you."

"No, I… " Remus stopped himself. There was more to this story, it seemed. "What are you referring to, exactly, Miss Weasley?"

She looked around and motioned him toward an empty classroom a few paces away.

His curiosity peaked, Remus followed the girls and watched Ginny close the door. When she turned around, her mood was furious. "Harry was injured during the last Quidditch game and has suffered ever since. There's something seriously wrong, but it seems nobody can help him!"

He felt his heartbeat increase. "What happened?"

"Harry sees everything all at once now", Luna explained, mysteriously. "Same with his other senses. I bet he can smell magic as well."

"It makes him vulnerable, too." Ginny wrung her hands. "He's in the Hospital Wing right now, again I might add, after that vicious attack. His head is always hurting nowadays."

"What attack?!" Overwhelmed by the news and the ongoing feeling of being unwelcome, Remus blindly reached out behind him and sat down on the Professor's desk. "Please, tell me everything."

Why hadn't Albus shared any of this with him?

Ginny nodded grimly. "Well, the attack happened yesterday, when…"

~.~.~.o.~.~.~

Yesterday...

Hermione didn't acknowledge the Professors and students in the hallway as she cradled Harry's head in her lap, holding his right cheek with her hand.

"Don't stop", he'd whispered, and that plea was her command now.

She had no idea what was going on with him and her, that unnerving draw he had on her, but now she had finally tangible proof that she wasn't going insane because her very touch apparently stopped his current agony.

However impossible that was.

Hermione didn't dare remove her hands from his cheek, and the back of his head. She felt him pressing his face into her, and it felt intimate and overwhelming, and she knew she wouldn't sleep for a week or so, trying to reflect on all of it.

"Miss Granger, what happened? Had Mister Potter another episode?" Professor Sinistra knelt down beside them, her face a mask of concern.

She looked at the Astronomy Professor, dumbstruck for a moment. "I… err… yes, but he was attacked. We both were."

"Are you injured?"

"No, I… I don't think I am."

"Hermione defended Harry! When he went down, she covered him." Demelza still had her own wand drawn. "Those gits got away, though."

"Dare I assume you to have any idea where they went, Miss Robins?" Snape drawled.

Ginny answered for her friend, giving the Potions Professor a dark look. "They were Disillusioned, but they ran that way." She pointed to where everyone had come from, causing most of the assembled students and teachers to turn their heads.

"I see." Snape sneered and parted the crowd easily as he followed the direction, drawing his own wand and muttering an unknowable spell under his breath.

Professor Sinistra meanwhile gave Hermione a once-over, then leaned back to talk to the other professors that had arrived on the scene, McGonagall and Flitwick. "I believe she's fine."

"Miss Granger, you need to let go of Mister Potter." Her Head of House knelt down. "He needs to be taken to the Hospital Wing."

"But I can't…" She had no idea how to explain this and not be dismissed out of hand.

"She's right." Ron frowned. "He stopped screaming the moment she… touched him."

The arrival of Madame Pomfrey bought her some time, though. She watched the school matron make her way through the assembled students in the hallway — why hadn't the onlookers been dismissed already?

"Out of the way, let me through… Ah, Mister Potter." Madame Pomfrey only glanced at Hermione as she raised her wand. "What happened here?"

Hermione took a breath and summarized the sudden attack with as few sentences as possible, watching the matron cast a series of diagnostic spells.

The older woman frowned. "Oh no, the Charm is gone. So that's why he's in so much pain. You need to let go of him, Miss Granger, so I can re-apply it."

Professor McGonagall finally realized that this was veering into personal territory and turned to the assembled students. "Everyone not involved in this incident will immediately leave this hallway. All members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team will stay, at a respectful distance."

She shooed the masses away, ignoring the protests of Harry's teammates.

Hermione squirmed under Madame Pomfrey's expectant gaze. "I… I can't. If I let go, his pain returns. He's only not screaming because I touch his face."

"My dear, his condition is entirely contained to his own nervous system. If anything, touching his skin makes it even worse. I know you're his friend, but you need to let go, or the Charm won't be as effective since it'll envelop both of you, weakening its effect considerably."

She shook her head. "Please! You have to believe me! I can't!"

"Young woman, I urge you to let go — you're not helping him right now." Madame Pomfrey didn't appear to find her explanations convincing. "That is not how healing magic works."

Hermione, feeling angry and frustrated, bit her tongue. But she remained steadfast. "No."

"What is the matter with you? Let go of him, now!"

"Miss Granger, please follow Madame Pomfrey's command." Professor Flitwick was a far cry from his usual cheery self as he addressed her. "We need to take care of Mister Potter."

"Why won't you believe me?" She felt her eyes tear up as she looked into the stern faces above her, feeling Harry shift slightly as he sought comfort in her touch. Then he opened his mouth and mumbled.

"What was that, Mister Potter?" The school matron leaned closer.

"I need her," he whispered.

The adults looked at each other. "He must be delirious," reasoned Madame Pomfrey. "Miss Granger, please do let go. Now."

Hermione, seeing that Professor McGonagall had also returned to frown at her, felt defenseless. "You're making a huge mistake," she said. "He'll suffer so much!"

But Harry put a trembling hand on hers. "S'okay," he mumbled. "Let them."

"This is wrong." Hermione knew she was actually crying, which didn't help her case at all because she'd be dismissed as being a typical teenager, no matter her record.

She looked at him down on her lap. His forehead was sweaty, and his eyes squeezed shut. His breaths were shallow, but the cramps had apparently stopped.

They would return momentarily, she was sure of it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Then, glaring at Madame Pomfrey, she gently pushed Harry's hand away and removed her own.

The moment she lost physical contact with him, he flinched.

And screamed.

"What in Merlin's name…" The school matron was white as a sheet as she hastily cast another Quietus Animus and two medical spells that went beyond Hermione's understanding.

Harry's screams turned into groans, and then into labored breath.

"I told you! I told you all!" Hermione snapped as she took Harry's hand. She didn't even notice how he immediately stopped moving his limbs, or how his breathing smoothed out.

But the others did.

"Poppy, what is this?" Professor McGonagall stared at them, her eyes widened.

"If only I knew. This… this is completely unheard of. You can't just make someone stop hurting with a touch."

Hermione sniffed haughtily.

"Miss Granger, I would like you to accompany Mister Potter to the Hospital Wing." Her Head of House put a hand on her shoulder. "And I'm sorry for not believing you."

"Minerva… I'm not sure what more I can do for him, really. This is getting out of hand." Madame Pomfrey shook her head. "I'm out of my depth here. Maybe he needs to go to St. Mungo's after all."

"I'll talk to Albus."

Despite her current dislike for the school's healer, Hermione agreed silently.

Harry needed help, in the same way she needed answers.

This situation… was untenable.

Harry's voice brought her out of her reverie. "Professor," he gasped, as he slowly turned to the side and tried to sit up. Instinctively, she supported him while holding his hand. "I… I have something."

"Mister Potter, you are not walking up the stairs in your condition!" said Madame Pomfrey, but Harry ignored her as he stared at Professor McGonagall.

"What is it, Mister Potter?"

"The wand of one of the attackers." He removed his other hand from his robes and handed her the bright wand that appeared to be made of birchwood.

His eyes then turned to Hermione, and she felt as if she was drowning in them. Her racing heartbeat slowed down. She also knew he was trying to tell her something.

They needed to talk about… this.

But not now.

~.~.~.o.~.~.~

Harry decided that he was utterly sick and tired of waking up in the Hospital Wing. The déjà-vu was annoying, to say the least, and he felt like an animal trapped in a cage. Nobody knew what to do with him, so they ordered him to stay in bed. Not because it actually helped him — he would absolutely be able to recover in the Boy's Dormitory — but because that was as far as anyone had planned.

With the renewed Charm, his condition was the same as before. Not perfect, but manageable.

There was no need for him to stay here.

Especially alone — they'd ordered Hermione to leave, which Harry thought was insane since she obviously had some form of power over his current predicament. Wasn't that worth further study?

And why had the Headmaster refused to let him be sent to St. Mungo's?

It made very little sense. Not that he was actually looking forward to being locked in some special ward while a bunch of healers poked and prodded him, but being denied outside help like that made him feel trapped even more.

The Headmaster hadn't even visited him this time.

Harry also didn't believe in the Voldemort theory anymore, not after discovering the soothing quality of Hermione's very touch. There was no way that she was connected to the dark tosser, willingly or unwillingly.

So it had to be something else.

But he'd only see her tomorrow, being confined to the Hospital Wing for the day, with strict orders of bed rest without interruption. Harry knew Madame Pomfrey meant well, but right now he was so angry he almost wanted to throttle her.

A tiny part of him was glad for this… grace period, though, because he knew that Hermione and he would have to have A Talk. And it would be awkward and embarrassing, and maybe he would say things that would make her rethink their friendship. He wasn't at all ready to deal with that.

His other friends barely registered on Harry's buzzing mind as he stared at the ceiling yet again, trying and failing to unsee the dust particles and the thousands of tiny reflections of himself in the compound eyes of the spider that spun her net above him.

~.~.~.o.~.~.~

"What are you writing?" Susan asked as she approached her friend at the Hufflepuff table. It was still early enough that only a quarter or so of Hogwart's population was present.

"I'm making a list," Hannah said absentmindedly.

"Of what?"

"Causes for headaches, especially ones caused by spells and magical conditions." The blonde blew a strand of hair out of her face, showing her flushed face.

"Hannah!" Susan didn't know if she should laugh or despair. "Is this about Harry again?"

Her friend ducked away from her and covered her parchment.

"Hanna?"

"Maybe."

The redhead groaned and then shuffled closer. "You've got it bad, girl. Show me."

"Please don't laugh."

"I won't, I promise."

Hannah peeked out from under her hair. "You swear?"

Susan rolled her eyes. "I'm not gonna do that silly oath that Megan and Juliette did the other night."

But the other Hufflepuff seemed convinced. "You don't have to. It's okay."

"How long have you been up anyway?" Susan asked as she slowly pulled the parchment from her best friend's hands.

"An hour or so."

"Hannah…"

"He needs help!" Her friend flinched as she noticed that she'd almost shouted. Blushing, she reached for a jug of pumpkin juice. "I think I can help."

"Sure you can."

"Susan!"

"Sorry, I know, no sarcasm." She scanned the page. "This appears to be very comprehensive, but… Hannah, how many of these spells and conditions do you actually know?"

"Not many."

Susan nodded, then put the parchment down. "So now what?"

"I don't know." Hannah seemed distraught. "Maybe we can go to the Library? Hermione does that all the time when something's wrong with Harry."

She didn't want to crush her best friend's hopes, but Susan thought that Hermione had likely already scoured the Hogwarts Library for all it was worth, and read everything too. Not to speak of the fact that she was very close with Harry — that betting pool that Fred and George had started almost three years ago was still ongoing.

But as her eyes scanned Hannah's notes again, she stopped at the entry 'Cruciatus curse'.

"Why this one?" She tapped the line with a finger.

"Because it looked and sounded like it when he was writhing on the floor just over there." Hannah shuddered. "I'll never forget the screams, it was so much louder than during the Quidditch game."

"I know." Susan shook her head. "But what do you want to do about it?"

"Finding something that helps with the pain? There are known cases where people who were tortured with that curse experienced phantom pains long after, and sometimes those began way after the incident," Hannah recited.

"How the bloody hell do you know all that?"

The blonde looked down at the table. "When I tried to find out more about Neville, and how to… get closer to him," she mumbled.

"Oh, Hannah." Susan put an arm around her friend's shoulder. "You and your Gryffindor boys."

"I… I can't help it. Harry is just… he's so…"

Susan sighed. "Believe me, I know." Then, she looked around, but the two of them were still relatively alone at the Hufflepuff table. She leaned closer. "I also know something… naughty."

"What?" Hannah stared at her, equally thrilled and hesitant.

Remembering what she'd secretly read in one of the thick stacks of files at her aunt's home, Susan tried not to grin. "There's no official cure for the effects of the Cruciatus other than rest and Pain Relieving potions — except for one thing."

"Oh, stop teasing!"

"The Ministry has done an actual study," she whispered in Hannah's reddening ear. "Being… intimate with someone suffering this way actually helps, when you're very careful. An orgasm is said to be the best cure."

Hannah spluttered, and then they both giggled.

"Are you having me on?"

"No, I swear!"

~.~.~.o.~.~.~

As she hurried from the Library to the sixth floor, Hermione felt exposed, as if someone would stop her any moment now. She'd broken plenty of rules for Ron and Harry over the years, but it hadn't gotten any easier.

Going behind the Headmaster's and Professor McGonagall's back… she felt terrible.

But she had no choice, not if she wanted actual answers.

So, after finding more than five references to certain potions about dealing with overstimulated senses, she'd decided that maybe there was one Professor at Hogwarts willing to help her.

Someone who'd go out of his way to earn favor with Harry Potter.

Someone who also held her in apparently high regard, no matter how superficial his compliments were.

She swallowed hard as she stopped in front of Professor Slughorn's office.

There was no other way.

She knocked.

"Yes?" Slughorn's voice was muffled.

"Professor? Hermione Granger here. I would like your help with something."

After two nervous breaths, the door opened and the overweight Potions Professor appeared. "Miss Granger! What an unexpected surprise. Are you… " He leaned out the door to check the hallway. "Are you alone?"

"Yes, I am."

"What's this about?"

She wrung her hands, knowing that she had to play this right and not overstep the bounds of the man's vanity. "It's… It's something for Harry, actually."

To her surprise, Slughorn's face immediately darkened. "I see. Well, I already told Mister Potter that I can't help him, and sending you instead really is…"

"Professor!" She stared at him, shocked at her own outburst. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout. It's just… he's in the Hospital Wing, again."

"I… oh." Slughorn frowned, but then his demeanor eased up. "I didn't hear about that, to be honest, what a tragedy. Mister Potter really seems to have fallen prey to a most vicious affliction."

She sniffed, not because she was actually crying but because it would probably help play her role. "He has. And nobody seems to be able to help him. So I went to the Library, and I found some references to certain potions." She looked at the man. "I was hoping that you might point me in the right direction."

Slughorn shook his head. "My dear, I'm not a healer."

"But you know potions like nobody else! You told us about your travels, you must've seen so many things. Surely you know something? Or the name of books I could read to help Harry?"

The Potions Professor stared at her for a moment. "This has nothing to do with… memories?"

"I… don't think so?" She was confused. What was he talking about?

But Slughorn was already smiling. "Splendid. Come in, Miss Granger, maybe we can find something to help Mister Potter after all. One should never give up on their friends!"

She followed the man into his office after closing the door.

"You remind me so much of a boy named William Lennox," he babbled as he moved toward the large shelf next to his desk. "His best friend had been cursed by a Fae of all creatures after an illicit trip to the Forbidden Forest during his fifth year, and he was sure that a potion would be able to break the curse when nothing else seemed to help."

"What happened? Did he succeed?" Hermione approached the shelf, drawn to the many books she'd never seen or read.

Slughorn turned around. "I'm afraid he didn't, Miss Granger. His friend fell quite ill and died a few years later, it was a terrible tragedy. But I doubt that Mister Potter ran afoul of a creature of the forest, so you shouldn't give up hope!"

She nodded hesitantly, slightly dazed from the turnaround.

Slughorn might be an expert in potions, but he really needed to work on his motivational speeches, she thought.

"What are you looking for, Professor?" she eventually asked.

"Something from my first travel…" Slughorn moved down the rows of books, his index finger touching spines and bookmarks. "What was it, I know I remember something… " He stopped to look at her again. "Mister Potter is suffering from having overly stimulated senses, right?"

"Yes." Hermione felt hope burst through her worries as she watched the Potions Professor's face. He'd just remembered something, and he was smiling again.

"Oh, Miss Granger, I believe I have just the thing." He grinned. "Curious, I haven't thought about it in years, only now to be reminded of it again…" His eyes stared off into space for a moment, but he shook himself out of it. "Ah, don't listen to me, Miss Granger, prattling about things from way before you were born. Not when I have something more tangible! And it's not here, it's in my old chest."

She watched Slughorn go to a small, dark chest in a corner of his office that she hadn't noticed before. He flipped it open and removed several items — padded robes, a bandolier of potions, a mortar and a pestle made from red stone… and a small book bound, bound in moss-green leather.

As he turned around to her, she had to force herself not to jump in excitement. "What… is it about?" she asked reverently.

"This." The older man tapped the book fondly. "This is a book written by an American wizard who ventured into the jungles of South America almost 40 years ago, to collect rare herbs and study the local magical communities."

"What… what does that have to do with Harry?"

Slughorn held out the book to her. "On his journey, he met several local witches and wizards who had… enhanced senses, who could hear the rain coming or find food from miles away in the jungle. He says they're called Sentinels."

Carefully, Hermione took hold of the green book. There was no title printed on the leather, but when she flipped it open, she read 'Secrets of the Sentinels: Primitive Magic and Ancient Tradition', by Emmet Ossinsky.

"I meet young Emmet when he was on his way back, in Buenos Aires," the Potions Professor reminisced. "We had the most stimulating conversations, and he sent me his book afterward when I was back from my own hunt for rare potion ingredients. He's now working for the American Ministry. We chat once a year, a jolly fellow, really."

"That's fascinating," Hermione mumbled absently, not paying too much attention to Slughorn as she paged through the book.

Maybe this was the key? Did she hold all the answers she needed in her hands? This wasn't a book about potions per se, but if reading about South American wizards did help find a cure for Harry's condition, she wouldn't complain.

"Can I… borrow this?"

"Miss Granger, you can have this book — it's yours!" Slughorn made a grandiose gesture. "Just remembering those olden days reinvigorated me more than a glass of Ogden's Finest ever did, haha!" He looked at her. "For that alone, I would give you this book. I can get another copy easily from dear Emmet, we're about to meet again soon anyway. And if this helps ease Mister Potter's pain, then all the better. He might not be a Sentinel if such wizards even exist, but maybe there's a connection still."

"Thank you, Professor." She tried to show the immense gratitude she felt. "I mean it, thank you."

"Miss Granger, you're one of my best students. Thank you for coming to me — we Slugs need to stick together, eh?" He chuckled. "Maybe next time we have a meeting, maybe you can tell us all about finding a cure for Mister Potter?"

She swallowed a sigh. "Sure… I can do that."

"Splendid! Now, don't let me keep you from any poignant business you might have."

He didn't motion toward the door, yet Hermione knew it was a dismissal. But she'd gotten more than she'd hoped for, there was no reason to complain. "Of course, Professor. Thank you, again."

"A pleasure, Miss Granger."

As she stepped outside the office, Hermione had to fight her instinct to run to the Hospital Wing. She needed to show this to Harry, as soon as possible. She knew he was to spend today in isolation, but she'd already planned to make another nightly visit to Madame Pomfrey's sanctum. This just couldn't wait. Maybe it would even make the talk they would have less awkward.

Before she reached her destination, she was stopped by the sight of Ron and Lavender, though. They were coming up the Grand Staircase, hand in hand.

When hen he saw her, Ron blanched and let go of Lavender's hand. "Hey, Hermione."

She looked between the two of them, irritation creeping into the bubbly excitement she'd felt just a moment before. "Yes?"

"Look... can we talk? Really talk, I mean?"

Lavender only stared at her.

"What's this about, Ron? I'm really busy right now."

He squared his jaw. "You always are, that's not a reason."

"Is this about Harry?"

Her roommate huffed, and Hermione tried to suppress a groan. She didn't have the time or energy to deal with this!

Ron scowled. "No. I know he's been in pain, and that attack was the strangest thing this year, easily, and you touching him... no, that was the strangest thing. But this isn't about him, for once."

She sighed. "Ron..."

"Is talking to me so terrible that you can't spare five minutes?" he snapped. "I thought we had an understanding."

"What understanding, Ron?" Lavender had joined the conversation, at last.

"I really don't have time," Hermione said. "Harry needs help, and I might be able to..."

"To what, cop a feel?"

She positively growled now. "Get out of my way, I can't deal with you being like this."

"Don't you just run away! Hermione!"

But she ran by them and didn't stop until they were out of sight. Hermione knew that another talk was imminent, and this one she did look forward to even less than the one she was about to have with Harry. Although considering Ron's temper and her stubbornness, it was probably going to be a screaming match.