Hermione got up early, determined to visit the library before heading down to Hagrid's hut. She intended to make sure he understood the dangers posed by the newly appointed Hogwarts High Inquisitor and to provide him with an array of safe lesson plans.
She trudged through the snow towards the Keeper of the Keys' hut. Since she was simply going to speak with one of her professors, she didn't bother concealing her footprints. Without Harry by her side, she hoped her visit would seem more casual.
Shifting her books to her other arm, she knocked on Hagrid's massive wooden door.
"Hagrid! It's Hermione!" She knocked again. And again. And again.
No answer.
If Hagrid were inside, Fang would be barking like mad. The silence indicated he wasn't home. Hermione glanced around and spotted Hagrid's giant footprints leading into the Forbidden Forest. The snow cover on them suggested he had left some time ago. Checking her watch, she decided to wait thirty minutes before heading back.
She placed her books on a dry barrel under the hut's overhang to keep them from getting snowed on and stood in the doorway. The warmth seeping through the door's cracks hinted at a fire inside. A half-hour later, just as she was about to leave, she heard Fang barking at the forest's edge. Hagrid and Fang were returning. She waved to catch Hagrid's attention, hoping he'd hurry up.
"'Mione! G'mornin!" Hagrid bellowed.
"Good morning, Hagrid. Alright?"
"Jus' fine. Jus' fine," Hagrid said, though his bruised face suggested otherwise. "Wha' do I owe this visit?"
"Can we go in?" Hermione asked. "I've been here a while, and I'm quite cold."
"O'course we can! Gotta fire goin' in th'hut."
Hagrid pulled out a colossal ring of keys, unlocked the door, and they stepped inside. Fang bounded in first, followed quickly by Hermione, who made a beeline for the roaring fireplace to warm up. Hagrid puttered around, hanging up his coat and boots before putting the kettle on.
"So, how can I help ya?" he asked, sitting down.
"Well," Hermione began, "I want to help you, actually."
She explained the troubles Umbridge had caused, highlighting the disbanding of groups and the lifetime ban Harry, Fred, and George had received. She mentioned the Ministry's interference and Umbridge's history with Harry and Fudge but refrained from discussing Harry's summer ordeal.
"So, you have to understand, everyone is in danger with her here," Hermione concluded. "You need to make sure everything you do is above board. That's why I'm here – to help you create lessons that won't get you in trouble with Umbridge. Maybe even follow some of the ones Grubbly-Plank had created. She passed Umbridge's inspection."
Hagrid sat for a moment, digesting her words, then let out a hearty laugh. "It'll be a'right, I promise. I go' a lotta great lessons ter teach yah. I bet even Umbridge'll be impressed!"
"Like what?" Hermione asked, afraid of the answer.
"Don'cha worry yer head o'er it," Hagrid laughed.
Hermione was desperate. "I'm just saying it's better to be safe with your lessons. You know, instead of Chimaeras, teach us about Knarls. It's all about choices."
"Nobody in ther right mind'd rather study Knarls than Chimaeras!" Hagrid exclaimed.
"Right, and that's what the Ministry wants."
"Well, they're wrong," Hagrid said with certainty.
Hermione knew she was losing the argument. "Can you at least tell me what you have planned so I can maybe help you present it in a way that—"
"Gonna be a surprise!" Hagrid said with a huge grin. "Now, ye get back t'the castle. I hafta ge' ready for class t'morrow." He started shooing her out the door.
Defeated, Hermione trudged back up to the castle. By the time she made it back to the Common Room, she was drenched from the snow.
"So?" said Ron, looking up when she entered. "Got all his lessons planned for him?"
"Well, I tried," she said dully, sinking into a chair beside Harry. She pulled out her wand and gave it an upward swish; she then pointed it at her robes while muttering, "Vaporus Vestis." Her robes began to steam as they dried out. "He wasn't even there when I arrived. I was knocking for at least half an hour. And then he came stumping out of the Forest—"
Harry groaned. She knew what he was probably thinking: the Forbidden Forest was teeming with the kind of creatures most likely to get Hagrid the sack. "What's he keeping in there? Did he say?" he asked.
"No," said Hermione miserably. "He says he wants them to be a surprise. I tried to explain about Umbridge, but he just doesn't get it. He kept saying nobody in their right mind would rather study Knarls than Chimaeras – oh, I don't think he's got a Chimaera," she added at the appalled look on Harry and Ron's faces, "but that's not for lack of trying, from what he said about how hard it is to get eggs. I don't know how many times I told him he'd be better off following Grubbly-Plank's plan. I honestly don't think he listened to half of what I said. He's in a bit of a funny mood, you know. He still won't say how he got all those injuries."
Since she had missed breakfast, Hermione decided to go down to the Great Hall to get something to eat after drying her robes. To her immense excitement, Ron announced he'd join her. She hoped he was coming because he enjoyed her company, not just because he was a fan of food.
The conversation-to-food ratio was surprisingly equal, and Hermione was having a great time just chatting with Ron. She just wished her feelings toward him wouldn't take her on a roller coaster ride every minute of the day. One minute, she felt warm and tingly every time she looked his way; the next, she thought he was one of the most vile creatures she had ever laid eyes on. Likewise, his demeanour toward her changed more often than the wind. Sometimes, she thought he fancied her; other times, she felt he regarded her as a sister. It was maddening. She never felt like this when she was with Viktor. What did that mean?
Just then, in a moment of pure luck, a parliament of owls flew into the Great Hall to deliver the mail. An orangey-white owl dropped down on the table right in front of Hermione's porridge, offering her an envelope from its beak. She recognised the sharp handwriting instantly!
"Whatcha get?" Ron asked.
"Nothing!" Hermione said quickly.
"Who's it from? Your parents?"
"Erm – yes!" Hermione lied, brushing her fingers over Viktor Krum's handwriting.
"Any Muggles bite your dad lately?" Ron said with a grin.
"I'm not sure," Hermione said. "I haven't really talked with them lately."
"Oh?"
"I told you – we had a bit of a row before I came to headquarters this summer."
"That's right," Ron said. "What was it about again?"
"Loads of stuff," Hermione said. She glanced at Ron, who was looking at her expectantly. "Just a lot of stuff that had built up over time. They don't understand how much being a witch means to me and assumed I'd come home after Hogwarts and get a Muggle job."
"Don't they understand you're, like, the best witch of the school?" Ron said.
"I guess not," Hermione said. "They also wanted to have a sit-down to talk about sex."
Ron choked on his beans and toast. "They what?"
"They wanted to sit down and tell me all about the birds and the bees."
"What does that have to do with—" Ron lowered his voice to a whisper, "—sex?"
"That's just a euphemism for it in the Muggle world," Hermione explained, amused. "They also call it 'The Talk.' I just call it horribly embarrassing."
"I never want to hear that word or those – what do you call them? Euphemisms? – uttered by my Mum and Dad," Ron said.
"So then, who talked to you about it?"
Ron's face flushed a deep red. "Fred and George, but I don't think they knew what they were talking about. There's no way it happens like that."
"It's really quite simple," Hermione said. "The human anatomy allows for a man's pe—"
"I never want to hear those words from you either," Ron interrupted her in a tone much higher than usual. "Blimey, Hermione!"
"I can get you a book if you prefer."
"I prefer not to think about it with you!"
Hermione had no idea how to take that last statement, and apparently, her mix of confusion, disappointment, and hurt was apparent on her face.
"I mean – I don't mean – erm," Ron stuttered. "I mean, I don't want to just talk about it with you—"
Hermione gasped despite herself.
"No!" Ron screamed, making Hermione jump. "I mean, erm – well, I mean, I do want to, I mean, with you—"
Hermione's eyes went wide.
"Bloody hell!" Ron smacked his forehead. "That's not what I – oh, never mind!" He got up from the table abruptly and ran awkwardly from the Great Hall, using his school bag as a shield in front of him, prepared to knock over anyone who stood in his way.
For one of the few times in her life, Hermione had no idea what to think. She had no idea what Ron thought, knew, or felt, and it was positively maddening.
Hagrid's reappearance at the staff table during breakfast the next day was met with mixed reactions. Fred, George, and Lee roared with delight and sprinted up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables to wring Hagrid's enormous hand. Others, like Parvati and Lavender, exchanged gloomy looks and shook their heads.
Ron seemed to have developed selective amnesia, acting like they had not had any conversation in the Great Hall. On top of it all, Viktor's letter had only added to Hermione's emotional turmoil:
My Smartest Girl,
I hope your school year is going well, and am very happy to hear you are learning much. Your advancements in Arithmancy are astonishing. I am so proud of you! And I applaud your ongoing efforts to further your defensive magic skills. I believe, unfortunately, these skills will be needed soon.
There is not much new for me. I have been playing a lot of Quidditch and training for the season. I think of you every day. You have made me such a better man in such a short time.
I know of our friendship arrangement, but I would very much like to still spend time with you. My mother, whom you were so kind to, shares my sentiment. She and I will be going on holiday to a Muggle ski resort in St. Moritz, Switzerland for Christmas, and we would like to invite you. If you are to visit your family for the holidays, please consider inviting them as well. It would be my honour to meet your parents.
Please do not worry about any travel accommodations for you or your family. My Quidditch salary is more than enough to be able to purchase what the Muggles call "suites" at the lodge. If your parents do not want to travel through Wizarding means, I will gladly pay for transportation costs.
Regardless of our romantic relationship, you are a very important person to me, and I would like to give you this vacation. Your letters have been filled with such stress, and I care deeply about you and your well-being.
Please consider my offer. Let me do what little I can to ease your stress.
Yours,
Viktor
Hermione knew without a shred of doubt that her parents would agree to the trip in a heartbeat if not just to spend time with her but also to meet Viktor. She also knew that her emotions with Ron had been all over the place and, quite frankly, she was lonely. Last year, Viktor had helped her relax and not think about all of the doom and gloom for a few minutes each day. She had never felt loved like that before and was craving it. Maybe it was time to give up hope that Ron would ever figure out his feelings towards her and, instead, spend time with a man who definitively knew how he felt.
With a certain amount of apprehension, Hermione, Ron, and Harry headed down to Hagrid's on Tuesday, heavily muffled against the cold. Hermione was incredibly nervous and could barely control her anxiety. She had to resort to her tried and true technique of reciting random facts in her head.
Thankfully, the High Inquisitor was nowhere to be seen as they struggled through the snow towards Hagrid, who stood waiting for them on the edge of the Forest. He did not present a reassuring sight; the bruises that had been purple on Saturday night and Sunday morning were now tinged with green and yellow, and some of his cuts still seemed to be bleeding. As though to complete the ominous picture, Hagrid was carrying what looked like half a dead cow over his shoulder.
"We're workin' in here today!" Hagrid called happily to the approaching students, jerking his head back at the dark trees behind him. "Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark."
"What prefers the dark?" Hermione heard Malfoy say to Crabbe and Goyle. She had a brief moment of joy at the sound of the fear in his voice. "What did he say prefers the dark – did you hear?"
"Ready?" said Hagrid cheerfully, looking around at the class. "Right, well, I've bin savin' a trip inter the Forest fer yer fifth year. Thought we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare. I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em."
"And you're sure they're trained, are you?" said Malfoy, the panic in his voice even more pronounced. Hermione and Harry shared a quick grin. "Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?"
The Slytherins murmured agreement, and a few Gryffindors looked as though they thought Malfoy had a fair point, too.
"Course they're trained," said Hagrid, scowling and hoisting the dead cow a little higher on his shoulder.
"So what happened to your face, then?" demanded Malfoy. Whatever joy Hermione had evaporated in an instant.
"Mind yer own business!" said Hagrid angrily. "Now, if yeh've finished askin' stupid questions, follow me!"
He turned and strode straight into the Forest. Nobody seemed much disposed to follow. Hermione sighed, and the three of them set off after Hagrid, leading the rest of the class.
They walked for about ten minutes until they reached a place where the trees stood so closely together that it was as dark as twilight, and there was no snow on the ground. With a grunt, Hagrid deposited half a cow on the ground, stepped back, and turned to face his class, most of whom were creeping from tree to tree towards him, peering around nervously as though expecting to be set upon at any moment.
"Gather roun', gather roun'," Hagrid encouraged. "Now, they'll be attracted by the smell o' the meat, but I'm goin' ter give 'em a call anyway 'cause they'll like ter know it's me."
He turned, shook his shaggy head to get the hair out of his face, and gave an odd, shrieking cry that echoed through the dark trees like the call of some monstrous bird. Nobody laughed; most of them looked too scared to make a sound.
Hagrid gave the shrieking cry again. A minute passed, and the class continued to peer nervously over their shoulders and around trees for a first glimpse of whatever was coming. Then, as Hagrid shook his hair back for a third time and expanded his enormous chest, Harry nudged Ron and pointed into the black space between two gnarled yew trees. Hermione followed his gaze toward a particularly ominous-looking tree. She strained her eyes, trying to see what creature Harry had spotted in its branches.
Ron seemed to be searching as well to no avail. He whispered, "Why doesn't Hagrid call again?"
Hermione shrugged, wondering the same thing. She glanced around. Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as theirs.
"Oh, an' here comes another one!" said Hagrid proudly. Hermione searched everywhere but saw absolutely nothing. "Now ... put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"
Harry raised his hand. Hagrid nodded at him.
"Yeah ... yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Harry," he said seriously. To Hermione's surprise, Neville slowly raised his as well. "An' you too, Neville, eh? An' –"
"Excuse me," said Malfoy in a sneering voice, "but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?"
For an answer, Hagrid pointed at the cow carcass on the ground. The whole class, including Hermione, stared at it briefly. She couldn't believe her eyes. She was frozen in fear, only to be broken by the sounds of several people gasping and Parvati squealing. Bits of flesh were stripping themselves away from the bones and vanishing into thin air.
"What's doing it?" Parvati demanded in a terrified voice, retreating behind the nearest tree. "What's eating it?"
"Thestrals," said Hagrid proudly. It took Hermione a few seconds to remember the passage in Hogwarts: A History.
"Oh!" she murmured. It all made sense now, especially since Harry could see them after what happened last year. She quickly wondered why she and Ron couldn't see them. They had, after all, watched Cedric be murdered as well, though she supposed the circumstances of watching a memory made a difference.
"Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. Now, who knows –?"
"But they're really, really unlucky!" interrupted Parvati, looking alarmed. "They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once –"
"No, no, no," said Hagrid, chuckling, "tha's jus' superstition, that is. They aren' unlucky; they're dead clever an' useful! Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work; it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate – an' here's another couple, look –"
Parvati immediately shivered and pressed herself closer to the tree, saying, "I think I felt something. I think it's near me!"
"Don' worry, it won' hurt yeh," said Hagrid patiently. "Righ', now, who can tell me why some o' yeh can see 'em an' some can't?"
Hermione raised her hand.
"Go on then," said Hagrid, beaming at her.
"The only people who can see Thestrals," she said, "are people who have seen death."
"Tha's exactly right," said Hagrid solemnly, "ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, Thestrals –"
"Hem, hem."
Professor Umbridge had arrived. She was standing a few feet away from Harry and Hermione, wearing her green hat and cloak again, her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid, who had never heard Umbridge's fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest Thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.
"Hem, hem."
"Oh, hello!" Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise.
"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" said Umbridge, in the same loud, slow voice she had used with him earlier, as if she were addressing somebody both foreign and very slow (which infuriated Hermione). "Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"
"Oh, yeah," said Hagrid brightly. "Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see – or, I dunno – can you? We're doin' Thestrals today –"
"I'm sorry?" said Professor Umbridge loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning. "What did you say?"
Hagrid looked a little confused.
"Er – Thestrals!" he said loudly. "Big – er – winged horses, yeh know!"
He flapped his gigantic arms hopefully. Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him and muttered as she made a note on her clipboard: "Has ... to ... resort ... to ... crude ... sign ... language."
"Well ... anyway …" said Hagrid, turning back to the class and looking slightly flustered, "erm ... what was I sayin'?"
"Appears ... to ... have ... poor ... short ... term ... memory," muttered Umbridge, loudly enough for everyone to hear her. Draco Malfoy looked as though Christmas had come a month early; Hermione, on the other hand, had turned scarlet with suppressed rage.
"Oh, yeah," said Hagrid, throwing an uneasy glance at Umbridge's clipboard but ploughing on valiantly. "Yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male an' five females. This one," he patted the air, "name o' Tenebrus, he's my special favourite, firs' one born here in the Forest –"
"Are you aware," Umbridge said loudly, interrupting him, "that the Ministry of Magic has classified Thestrals as 'dangerous?'"
Hermione's heart sank like a stone, but Hagrid merely chuckled.
"Thestrals aren' dangerous! All righ', they might take a bite outta yeh if yeh really annoy them –"
"Shows ... signs ... of ... pleasure ... at ... idea ... of ... violence," muttered Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard again. Hermione was making fists and plunging her nails into her palms. She wouldn't be surprised if she had broken skin.
"No – come on!" said Hagrid, looking a little anxious now. "I mean, a dog'll bite if yeh bait it, won' it – but Thestrals have jus' got a bad reputation because o' the death thing – people used ter think they were bad omens, didn' they? Jus' didn' understand, did they?"
Umbridge did not answer; she finished writing her last note, then looked up at Hagrid and said, again very loudly and slowly, "Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk," she mimed walking (Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were having silent fits of laughter) "among the students" (she pointed around at individual members of the class) "and ask them questions." She pointed at her mouth to indicate that she was talking.
Hagrid stared at her, clearly at a complete loss to understand why she acted like he did not understand standard English. Hermione had tears of fury in her eyes now. It was quite clear what she was doing, and the blatant prejudice was disgusting.
"You hag, you evil hag!" she whispered as Umbridge walked towards Pansy Parkinson. "I know what you're doing, you awful, twisted, vicious –"
"Erm ... anyway," said Hagrid, clearly struggling to regain the flow of his lesson, "so – Thestrals. Yeah. Well, there's loads o' good stuff abou' them …"
"Do you find," said Professor Umbridge in a ringing voice to Pansy Parkinson, "that you are able to understand Professor Hagrid when he talks?"
Just like Hermione, Pansy had tears in her eyes, but these were tears of laughter; indeed, her answer was almost incoherent because she was trying to suppress her giggles.
"No ... because ... well ... it sounds ... like grunting a lot of the time …"
Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. The few unbruised bits of Hagrid's face flushed, but he tried to act as though he had not heard Pansy's answer.
"Er ... yeah ... good stuff abou' Thestrals. Well, once they're tamed, like this lot, yeh'll never be lost again. 'Mazin' sense o' direction, jus' tell 'em where yeh want ter go –"
"Assuming they can understand you, of course," said Malfoy loudly, and Pansy Parkinson collapsed in a fit of renewed giggles. Professor Umbridge smiled indulgently at them and then turned to Neville.
"You can see the Thestrals, Longbottom, can you?" she said. Hermione prepared herself to be ready to pounce.
Neville nodded.
"Who did you see die?" she asked, her tone indifferent.
"My ... my grandad," said Neville.
"And what do you think of them?" she said, waving her stubby hand at, presumably, where the horses were standing.
"Erm," said Neville nervously, with a glance at Hagrid. "Well, they're ... er ... OK…"
"Students ... are ... too ... intimidated ... to ... admit ... they ... are ... frightened," muttered Umbridge, making another note on her clipboard.
"No!" said Neville, looking upset. "No, I'm not scared of them!"
"It's quite all right," said Umbridge, patting Neville on the shoulder. Hermione felt her body respond impulsively, but Ron, thankfully, grabbed her arm to keep her in place. Hermione didn't know what she would have done had Ron not stopped her. "Well, Hagrid," she turned to look up at him again, speaking once more in that loud, slow voice, "I think I've got enough to be getting along with. You will receive" (she mimed taking something from the air in front of her) "the results of your inspection" (she pointed at the clipboard) "in ten days' time." She held up ten stubby little fingers, then, her smile wider and more toadlike than ever before beneath her green hat, she bustled from their midst, leaving Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson in fits of laughter, Hermione shaking with fury and Neville looking confused and upset.
"That foul, lying, twisting old gargoyle!" stormed Hermione half an hour later as they made their way back up to the castle through the channels they had made earlier in the snow. "You see what she's up to? It's her thing about half-breeds all over again – she's trying to make out Hagrid's some kind of dimwitted troll just because he had a giantess for a mother – and oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all – I mean, all right, if it had been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but Thestrals are fine – in fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!"
"Umbridge said they're dangerous," said Ron.
"Well, it's like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves," said Hermione impatiently, "and I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn't usually show them to us before NEWT level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren't they? The way some people can see them and some can't! I wish I could." Perhaps it would make watching Cedric be murdered have a silver lining.
"Do you?" Harry asked her quietly.
She looked suddenly horrorstruck. She had, once again, talked without thinking.
"Oh, Harry – I'm sorry – no, of course I don't – that was a really stupid thing to say."
"It's OK," he said quickly, "don't worry."
"I'm surprised so many people could see them," said Ron, slightly changing the subject. "Three in a class –"
"Yeah, Weasley, we were just wondering," said a malicious voice. Unheard by any of them in the muffling snow, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were walking right behind them. "D'you reckon if you saw someone snuff it, you'd be able to see the Quaffle better?"
He, Crabbe, and Goyle roared with laughter as they pushed past on their way to the castle, then broke into a chorus of "Weasley is our King." Ron's ears turned scarlet.
"Ignore them, just ignore them," intoned Hermione, holding onto Ron's arm with one hand and pulling out her wand with the other. She quickly performed the Vaporus Vestis charm to produce hot air again so that she could melt them an easier path through the untouched snow between them and the greenhouses.
Upon arriving in the Great Hall for dinner, Hermione and Ron were each handed a large packet of papers by the Head Boy and Girl. "Holidays are a busy time for Prefects," Marcus said, handing Hermione her stack.
"Hope you aren't asking Father Christmas for some time off," Penelope added with a smirk, "because you're not going to get it."
Hermione's heart sank as she flipped through the packet. Up until then, their Prefect duties had been manageable, with an occasional patrol here and there. But now, their responsibilities had essentially quadrupled. That very evening, she and Ron were scheduled for a three-hour patrol and were also on call to watch the First and Second Years during their breaks if the weather turned bad.
"Three bloody hours!" Ron exclaimed, his face contorted in disbelief. "When am I supposed to get my work done?! I have loads!"
"To be fair, you did let it stack up," Hermione said. Though she, too, felt overwhelmed by their new responsibilities, she had managed her homework load much better. What weighed more heavily on her mind was the looming patrol with Ron—the first time they would be alone together since that confusing morning. Hermione hadn't made up her mind about Viktor yet, and she decided (as rationally as she could) that this patrol would be a good indicator of how to proceed.
They met in the common room, their Prefect badges pinned smartly on their robes and climbed out of the portrait hole together.
Within five minutes of starting their patrol, Hermione spotted a couple snogging in the fourth-floor corridor, barely concealed by a giant tapestry. Several portraits had gathered to watch, their painted faces animated with gossip. As Hermione was about to elbow Ron and point them out (knowing Ron's favourite part of patrolling was yelling at couples), she saw a flash of red hair. It was Ginny! If Ron saw his sister and Michael Corner snogging, he would go absolutely mental. She had to divert his attention quickly. Without thinking, she kissed him on the cheek.
Ron stopped dead in his tracks, touching his cheek in bewilderment. "What was that for?" he asked, though his tone wasn't accusatory.
"I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me this year, RON," Hermione said, raising her voice as she emphasised his name, hoping Ginny would hear. She took Ron by the shoulders and walked him to the side of the corridor where he couldn't see Ginny.
"I haven't done anything," Ron said, his ears burning red.
"Sure you have," Hermione said, though she couldn't think of a single example at that moment. Her lips were still buzzing from Ron's cheek. "Anyways, I just wanted to thank you. That's all."
"You're welcome, I guess," Ron said sheepishly. He paused awkwardly, then leaned in to kiss her on the cheek.
Hermione's mind went blank, and she was only aware of her heart pounding in her chest. She looked at Ron, who was staring at her with an expression that suggested he wanted to kiss her again, this time not just on the cheek. Her heart raced as he leaned closer...
"Hey, Granger!" Sophie called, hurrying down the corridor. Ron pulled back, his attention snapped away. Hermione saw Sophie fixing her robes and looking guilty.
"Oy!" Ron called after her. "What have you been up to?"
"None of your bloody business, Weasel," Sophie shot back over her shoulder.
"Stop right there," Ron shouted. "I'm a prefect. You've gotta do what I say."
"Ron, leave her alone," Ginny said, jogging up to them. "Don't be a prat."
"I'm not a prat. I'm a prefect," Ron said, setting his jaw.
"Same difference," Ginny said, giving Hermione a nod of gratitude. "Just ask Percy."
"Don't you dare compare me to Percy!"
"Or what?!"
"Or—" Ron stuttered, "Or I'll take five points from Gryffindor!"
"You'd take points from your own house?" Ginny said incredulously. "Come off it."
"Five points from Gryffindor!" Ron said defiantly.
Ginny stared at him like he had grown a second head. "Are you mental?"
"Five more points from Gryffindor!" Ron screamed.
"Ron—" Hermione started.
"And don't make me take any more!" he yelled and stormed off.
"What in the bloody hell was that?" Ginny asked as he rounded the corner.
"I have no idea," Hermione said, though she suspected she did. She had felt the same way when she tried to kiss him back at headquarters.
"Thanks for the save, regardless," Ginny said.
"You got it," said Hermione. "I didn't want to explain to Professors McGonagall and Flitwick why Michael Corner needed to go to the hospital wing."
"Right, right," Ginny said nonchalantly. "I'm off then. Have fun on your patrol with Mr Happy."
Hermione and Ginny parted ways, and Hermione jogged around the corner to catch up with Ron. He was nearing the staircase, fists clenched, shoulders tight around his red ears.
"Ronald! Ron! Wait up!"
Ron paused but didn't turn around.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," he said unconvincingly.
"Liar."
"Ron, talk to me!"
"I don't want to talk about it," Ron said.
"Clearly, something more than Ginny teasing you is bothering you," Hermione said.
"I said I don't want to talk about it," Ron repeated.
Hermione sighed heavily and followed him up the staircase, stepping widely over the trick step. With his long legs, Ron was taking the steps two at a time, causing Hermione to race to keep pace. He stopped on the sixth floor and rounded the corner.
"Ron!" Hermione shouted, her chest heaving from running up the stairs. "Please wait."
"What!" Ron yelled back from around the corner.
Hermione doubled over, putting her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She felt faint, a wave of dizziness nearly pushing her back down the steps she had just sprinted up. Ron's strong arms grabbed her before she fell.
"'Mione, are you okay?" he asked.
"I just got really dizzy," Hermione said. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologise!" Ron said. He led her to a stone bench a few feet away. Hermione sat down, and Ron knelt in front of her, looking into her face with concern. "Shall I get Madam Pomfrey?"
"No, no, I'll be fine."
"'Mione, you're as pale as Moaning Myrtle."
"Just dizzy, that's all. I didn't sleep well last night."
"You're having nightmares again? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Ron," said Hermione tiredly. "I haven't stopped having nightmares. They may not be every single night, but they still happen a lot."
Ron was quiet for a moment, searching for the right words.
"Honestly, it's given me time to knit more hats and finish some of my work," Hermione continued. "So it's not too bad."
"But here you are, nearly falling down the steps!"
"I would have been out of breath and dizzy chasing after you regardless of my sleeping habits," Hermione said with a grin, trying to diffuse the tension. "Now, are you going to tell me what's wrong?"
Ron scowled. "I guess I was just angry that we were—" Ron stopped to think of the right word, "—interrupted."
Hermione felt herself flush. "Oh, I see," she said.
"If you haven't guessed already, I'm not very good at this."
"Good at what?" she challenged him. If anything were going to happen between them, Ron would have to acknowledge it.
"This."
"You are going to have to be more specific," Hermione pressed.
Silence hung between them like a fog. Hermione watched as Ron grew more and more uncomfortable. "Never mind," Ron mumbled, looking away. "Let's finish this patrol."
Hermione let out the breath she had been holding. How many chances was she going to give him? Yet again, she mentally chastised herself for hoping the impossible would happen. Even if Ron was interested in becoming more than friends, his lack of initiative and maturity to admit it could and should be reason enough for Hermione to give up on having any feelings towards Ronald Weasley.
They finished their patrol in awkward silence, save for a few instances where they had to scold second-years for being out past curfew.
Within minutes of returning to her room, Hermione ripped open her desk drawer and pulled out a stack of parchment.
Dear Viktor,
Thank you for the lovely letter! I miss you as well and would love to see you over break. It would be so lovely to catch up in person. I will write to my parents and ask them if they'd like to go and their transportation preferences.
I will let you know as soon as I hear from them. Thank you again!
Yours, Hermione
Hermione took a deep breath and took out another piece of parchment. There was so much to say, but Hermione knew she wasn't in the right mind to fully express herself.
Dear Mum and Dad,
I really appreciate the kind words in your letter and sincerely apologise for not being present and working on our relationship. I love you both more than life itself and hope that that comes through despite my need to be in the Wizarding World.
I was presented with an opportunity by Viktor to join him and his mother at a ski resort in St. Moritz, Switzerland, over the holidays, and he graciously invited you both to come as well. Since he is a professional Quidditch player, he also has the means to pay our way and even offered to fly us there if you weren't comfortable with Wizarding transportation. Maybe this could be a good chance for us to sit down and talk about things and come to a compromise. Plus, you'll be able to meet Viktor.
Please let me know if we can go together. I can arrange everything with Viktor. All you need to do is say the word.
All my love, Hermione
Before she could second guess herself, she sealed both pieces of parchment into their respective envelopes and hurried to the Owlery. Technically, it was past curfew, but Hermione had kept her robes and Prefect badge on from their patrol, so she wasn't worried about being caught in the corridors.
She needn't have worried; Hermione made it to and from the Owlery in record time and watched the two school owls fly into the distance.
Hermione received a reply from her parents two days later. They seemed so excited to, as they wrote, "spend some quality time as a family on the slopes," and even agreed to take Viktor up on his offer to pay for their trip. Hermione followed up with another letter to Viktor telling him the good news, and then they set to iron out all of the logistics and details.
In between writing back and forth with Viktor and her parents, classes, homework, studying, Arithmancy Club, and the DA, Hermione and Ron also had to squeeze in supervising the decoration of the castle, watching over first- and second-years spending their break times inside because of the bitter cold, and to continue to patrol the corridors in shifts with Argus Filch, who suspected that the holiday spirit might show itself in an outbreak of wizard duels. They were so busy that Hermione had even stopped knitting elf hats and was fretting that she was down to her last three.
"All those poor elves I haven't set free yet, having to stay here over Christmas because there aren't enough hats!"
However, she planned on using the holiday to catch up and told Viktor as much in one of the letters they were writing back and forth. He assured her knitting by the fire in their chalet would be the perfect place to unwind. She found it unbelievably sweet that Viktor's mother was working on her English so that she could talk to her and her parents.
She had to admit that she was getting very excited about the vacation and, if she were being honest, a break from Ron and Harry. Ron was grating on her last nerve, continuously asking what skiing was. Likewise, Harry was annoyingly jealous that Ginny had replaced him as Seeker. Honestly, what did he expect the team to do? Play without a Seeker in protest? And if she heard about how much he liked Cho one more time, she was going to pick him up and physically set him next to her. She obviously liked him, but he wouldn't give her a chance to do anything about it.
During their last DA meeting, they worked on the Impediment Jinx and headed back to their common rooms. Hermione and Ron automatically went to their favourite chairs. Harry stayed behind, probably to help some of the people who had been struggling. Since Hermione had finished most of her work, she pulled out some parchment to finalise some plans with Viktor.
Harry returned to the common room half an hour later.
"What kept you?" Ron asked as Harry sank into the armchair next to Hermione's.
Harry didn't answer. Hermione looked up. He had an odd look on his face, almost as if he had just been sick.
"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked, peering at him over the tip of her quill.
Harry shrugged but didn't say anything.
"What's up?" said Ron, hoisting himself up on his elbow to get a clearer view of Harry. "What's happened?"
Suddenly Hermione had a thought about what it may be. "Is it Cho?" she asked in a businesslike way. "Did she corner you after the meeting?"
Harry nodded. Ron sniggered, breaking off when Hermione caught his eye.
"So – er – what did she want?" he asked in a mock casual voice.
"She –" Harry began, rather hoarsely; he cleared his throat and tried again. "She – er –"
"Did you kiss?" asked Hermione briskly.
Ron sat up so fast that he sent his ink bottle flying all over the rug. Disregarding this completely, he stared avidly at Harry.
"Well?" Ron demanded, leaning forward with intense curiosity.
Harry looked from Ron's eager expression to Hermione's slightly concerned one and finally nodded.
"HA!" Ron made a triumphant gesture with his fist and burst into raucous laughter, causing several timid second-years by the window to jump. A reluctant grin spread over Harry's face. Hermione, on the other hand, was less amused. She returned to writing her letter, trying to ignore Ron's immaturity.
"Well?" Ron pressed, still chuckling. "How was it?"
"Wet," Harry said truthfully.
Ron made a noise that was a mix between jubilation and disgust. Hermione's patience was wearing thin as she continued to scribble furiously, determined to block out the conversation.
"Because she was crying," Harry added, his tone heavy with confusion.
"Oh," Ron said, his smile fading. "Are you that bad at kissing?"
"Dunno," Harry said worriedly. "Maybe I am."
"Of course, you're not," Hermione interjected before she could stop herself, her quill pausing mid-sentence.
"How do you know?" Ron asked sharply, his tone suddenly defensive.
"Because Cho spends half her time crying these days," Hermione said, her voice laced with frustration. "She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place."
"You'd think a bit of kissing would cheer her up," Ron said, grinning again.
Hermione whipped her head around to glare at him. "Ron, you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron said indignantly. "What sort of person cries while someone's kissing them?"
"Yeah," Harry echoed, looking desperate. "Who does?"
Hermione sighed, laying down her quill. "Don't you understand how Cho's feeling at the moment?" she asked, though she knew the answer.
"No," said Harry and Ron in unison.
"She's feeling very sad because of Cedric dying," Hermione explained, her voice gentle but firm. "Then she's confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's an insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can't work out her feelings towards Harry, anyway, because he was with Cedric when Cedric died. And she's afraid she'll be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she's been flying so badly."
A slightly stunned silence followed Hermione's speech. Then Ron said, "One person can't feel all that at once. They'd explode."
"Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have," Hermione retorted, her anger barely masking the hurt she felt.
"She was the one who started it," Harry said defensively. "I wouldn't've – she just sort of came at me – and next thing she's crying all over me – I didn't know what to do –"
"Don't blame you, mate," Ron said.
Hermione's heart ached with every word Ron uttered. "You just had to be nice to her," she said, looking at Harry but meaning Ron. "You were, weren't you?"
"Well," Harry began, his face reddening, "I sort of – patted her on the back a bit."
"Well, I suppose it could have been worse," Hermione said, recalling all the awkward moments with Ron. "Are you going to see her again?"
"I'll have to, won't I?" Harry said. "We've got DA meetings, haven't we?"
"You know what I mean," Hermione pressed.
Harry said nothing. Hermione knew he was avoiding the issue.
"Oh well," Hermione said distantly, "you'll have plenty of opportunities to ask her."
"What if he doesn't want to ask her?" Ron interjected.
"Don't be silly," Hermione said, choosing her words carefully. "Harry's liked her for ages, haven't you, Harry?"
Harry remained silent. Ron was indeed a lucky boy, oblivious to the turmoil he was causing.
"Who're you writing the novel to, anyway?" Ron asked Hermione, trying to peek at the parchment now trailing on the floor. Hermione hitched it up out of sight.
"Viktor," she said with a smug smile. Maybe Ron would get a twinge of the jealousy she had endured.
"Krum?"
"How many other Viktors do we know?"
Ron said nothing but looked disgruntled. They sat in silence for another twenty minutes. Hermione could have finished her letter much sooner, but she relished every moment Ron squirmed in his seat, knowing that her writing to Viktor was bothering him.
Finally, she ran out of things to write. "Well, night," said Hermione, yawning widely to hide her grin as she set off up the girls' staircase. She could tell her pettiness had worked its magic. Now she had two more days until the end of the term to annoy the bloody hell out of Ronald Billius Weasley.