The Transfer

Disclaimer: You know the routine- No $$$ mo' problems. I don't own or profit from any of this stuff.

This is the first chapter in which any significant amount of time passes. Hope you enjoy. Vinny is such a fool for the swotty ones…

Ch7 Homework

That night, I sat on the floor in front of the Common Room fire trying to finish my Runes essay and at the same time, not watch Hermione read one of the books we were assigned.

It was a full time job.

I found myself asking her for an opinion on what I had been writing just so she would look up at me and smile. God, I'm pitiful.

Ron and Harry, having finished their only piece of homework during lunch break, were playing chess at one of the tables nearby. They were consumed with the game and not paying us any attention.

“That's looking good, Vinny. Just sum it up and I think Professor Fenella will like it.”

I rolled onto my back and rubbed my eyes, “I still have to read all those books too! Maybe I can read them another night. What classes do we have tomorrow?”

She pulled her schedule out of her pocket and read off, “Transfiguration, Dark Arts again, Charms and Herbology.”

“I'm not taking Herbology, so I'll have an extra period to study,” I said, suddenly feeling all resolve to read any books that night fade.

“But what about all the homework you'll get in Charms, Transfiguration and Dark Arts?”

“Aw, that's the easy stuff,” I scoffed, “I can do all that in no time. I will need to concentrate the most on Arithmacy, Runes and Potions. The others I can handle.”

Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow at me and said, “I don't think you should go into those classes with that kind of attitude. You may not be as good as you think, you know. Besides, who will you come to for help when you fall behind, I wonder?”

I sat up and squared myself to her in front of the fire. She was still giving me her `You aren't such hot shit' look when I grabbed the copy of Ancient Script Revealed! from her hands and tossed in into the middle of the common room.

“Hey!” she yelled, getting Ron and Harry's attention, but I raised a stern finger and gave her a look that silenced her.

I turned to the book lying rumpled on the floor a few feet away and pulled out my wand. Before I could do anything, a short-legged, ugly beast of a cat trotted over to it and gave it a stab with his paw.

“Hey, who's cat?” I asked. He must have been hiding the night before; I hadn't seen him until now.

“That's Crookshanks, he's mine,” said Hermione.

“I'd say he's cute, but I don't think you'd believe that lie, would you?” I said with a smile. Crookshanks was the ugliest cat I had ever seen. A face only a mother could love, I thought.

“You're awful!” she said, fixing her eyes on me. “He is the sweetest cat! He has lots of redeeming qualities!”

“Fine, sorry Crookshanks!”

The orange cat sat next to the book with his tail curled around his feet and eyed me seriously, like he was checking to see if he might be able to take me in a fair fight.

“I don't think he likes me very much. Maybe he understood me,” I joked.

“He's not an ordinary cat, he probably did understand you.”

“Well then, “ I said, raising my wand, “Lets see if we can get back in his good graces.”

I passed the wand over the disheveled book several times, each pass a little more intricate than the last, until it raised off the floor an inch or so and folded in on itself, transfiguring at last into a beautiful, pure white Persian cat.

Hermione made a surprised sound as Crookshanks and the Persian looked each other over, sniffing and circling one another in the middle of the floor.

“Go on Crookshanks, I know you like those exotic girls!” I prodded.

And he did. The Persian took a step back and sat resolutely, holding her ground and waiting for Crookshanks to come to her. It didn't take long; he snuggled up and rubbed his body against the ivory cat, accidentally knocking her over as he did.

“Big lummox.” said Ron, but his face wore a peculiar smile, like he was happy that Crookshanks had met a girl. I rolled my eyes; did he forget that Crookshanks was now in love with Hermione's textbook?

I looked at Hermione hoping to still see an impressed look to match the sound she'd made at the book's transformation, but to my dismay it was gone, replaced by that first look of apathy. She waived her wand over the Persian cat and changed it back into the book. Crookshanks let out a bewildered “meow!” and scampered back under the couch.

“I wouldn't get too confident. You're still going to have to study to pass Transfiguration, I'm afraid,” said Hermione in a dismissive voice. I wasn't sure if it was her arrogant tone or the fact that I really wanted to impress her, but I was on a mission now. I had to show her something she hadn't seen before.

“Not impressed huh? OK, how about this then.”

I took my wand and started to move it over my left arm but Hermione stopped me by catching my wand hand in hers asking, “Wait, Vinny, why do you hold your wand like that?”

I stopped and looked down at her hand over mine and she released it instantly. Wait was she just holding my hand? No…

“You mean against my palm with my thumb and not all,” I changed to the traditional sword-wielding grip that she, Harry and Ron used, “and not all Ham-fisted like this?”

“It's not Ham-fisted!” said Ron from the table. “Everyone I know holds their wand like that!”

“Not everyone you know, you know me right?”

“Starting to wish I didn't, though…” Ron said under his breath.

“Enough Ron! Seriously though Vinny, why hold it like that?” Hermione asked again. She was studying my hand closely and I turned it towards her, palm first, so she could have a better look.

“Well when I first got my wand, I held it the same way you all do, but then my first Dark Arts teacher told us to hold our wands the way we felt comfortable, not the way we had always seen everyone else do it. So,“ I took my wand by the tip in my left hand and pointed the handle at my right. Then I flattened my right hand and kept the fingers and thumb together, like half of two hands praying. I placed the handle on my palm so that the wand pointed up, the same direction as my fingers and kept the shaft between my middle and index fingers. Finally I curled my thumb in and held the handle against my palm.

“There you have it. This is how I hold it.”

“But is there any advantage to it?” came Harry's voice from the table.

“I don't think so, I just liked the feel of it. Something kind of,” I turned the edge of my hand towards Hermione and moved it slowly in her direction, “Kung Fu about it that made me comfortable.”

“Kung Fu?” puzzled Hermione.

“Yeah,” I extended my left hand now in a Kung Fu chop and then showed her both hands together. Both were flat, fingers extended together, the one holding the wand had the thumb tucked under holding it in place, “See?”

“I still don't see how it's better,” she said.

“It's not better Hermione, it's just - here, you didn't like the book-into-cat trick. How about this?”

I moved my wand over my left arm and the skin began to bubble like a stew on a stovetop. Then, as I tapped each fingertip, the flesh peeled away, revealing my arm, but made from wood. A moment later there were leaves and flowers sprouting from it, and as I wiggle my fingers at her, they sprouted into vines that I sent across the room to retrieve her copy of Ancient Script Revealed! from the middle of the room.

She gaped at the book as I handed it back to her, but shook off the amazement and said, “That's good but -“

“Still not impressed huh?” I tapped my wand on the wood arm and the leaves all turned brown and shed onto the floor as the flesh rolled back into place.

“Whoa, do that again!” said Ron.

“How about this one?”

With my wand, I traced stripes along my arm that colored black as I worked forward from my elbow. The rest of my arm turned a brilliant orange and as I arrived at the hand, my fingertips curled into large, vicious claws. I clenched my fist and then flung the fingers open again, revealing a huge tiger's paw to go along with the rest of the arm.

“Wicked!” said Ron as he crossed the common room and sat next to me. “Can I touch it? Is it real?”

I ignored him and looked at Hermione, who this time, couldn't hide her expression.

“That's - that's very good. When did you learn Human Transfiguration?”

“A little bit here, a little bit there. We were supposed to start it this year back in the States, but I learned some things while dueling...”

“We haven't even started it yet…” she said meekly.

“So can I have the rest of the night off, Homework Dominatrix?” I demanded with a laugh.

She colored again and said very seriously, “Sure, but you have to show me how to do the tiger one.”

The rest of the week passed pretty uneventfully. Professor Flitwick, the dwarf (or Goblin) who was minding Filch and his Dark Detector on my first night in the entrance hall, was impressed by my Aguamenti charm and gave it top marks after a taste test, while Professor Mcgonagall actually gave me a kind word when I was the first in the class to transfigure my pinky finger into a stick of chalk.

Ron and Harry were happy to have a new tutor in Charms and Transfiguration and Hermione, surprisingly, wasn't jealous, but happy that she had someone to compare notes with.

I was happy too. She and I fell in like peas and carrots as the saying goes, and we spent long nights together in front of the common room fire or in the library, writing essays for Arithmacy and Ancient Runes. We talked about our families (both only children), our interests outside of school (she told me about S.P.E.W. and I told her how there are no house elves in America) and what we wanted to do with our lives after we graduated. Best of all we laughed (she had a wonderful sense of humor once you managed to get her to let her guard down), we flirted (Upon receiving my first translation back from Runes with an `O' grade, “If I didn't think Ron and Harry would pummel me, I would kiss you Hermione!” “Oh? A kiss from me isn't worth a beating from them?”) and we got to know each other.

I sensed that there was something going on with her that she wasn't inclined to discuss with me, though. When I asked her about her future plans, she seemed to talk about them as if she wasn't sure what she wanted to do and not because she couldn't make up her mind, but because she was afraid she might not be around to do it.

“Is it the war with Voldemort? Is that why you're worried about the future?' I asked that Friday night as she and I studied alone in the library.

“Oh,” she was taken aback for a moment, “I didn't know you said his name!”

“Yeah, in the States we don't play that `You-know-who' stuff.”

“Well, that's good. I wish it were that way here as well. Anyway, I suppose it is the war. Its Harry too, he's -“ she stopped and seem to consider if she should go on but then said, “You know how the papers are calling him `The Chosen One' now? Well we found out over summer that they aren't too far off. I guess there is a prophecy that says he has to either kill Voldemort or be killed by him.” Her face darkened at the words, the weight of Harry's apparent destiny heavy on her, and I knew then and there that she cared for him a great deal.

“Well, not to be disrespectful to the prophecy or anything, but I never really put much faith in that kind of stuff,” I said trying to brighten her mood. “I mean, you'll never convince me that the future is set in stone and no matter what I do the outcome is already known somewhere,” I went on, but her gaze was still focused on her book in front of her, sallow and melancholy.

I put my hand on her arm and continued, “From what I know of you Hermione, I'm surprised you are so convinced that it's destined to happen that way.”

She looked up, a weak smile tugging at her lips, “I'm not sure that I am, it's just -- the odds seem so insurmountable. I can't see a way for Harry to win.” Her face fell again to her book.

“Do you - I mean, are you and he like…” Damn, this isn't the way I wanted to ask her about this, with her practically crying into her textbook over him. I had come this far though.

“Do you love him, Hermione?”

“Oh, of course I do!” she said looking up at me as a tear fell down her cheek. “I've know him for six years now and we've been through so much together. He's my best friend in the world - well him and Ron. I can't imagine my life without him in it.”

She loves him like a best friend? Or she loves him and he is her best friend? She loves Ron too? My mind reeled for a moment until I refocused on her and saw the tears in her eyes. Suddenly, I felt very guilty that I was trying to figure out her love life and where I might fit into it as she cried across the table from me.

“I'm sorry Hermione, maybe we should talk about something else.”

“Yeah,” she said, wiping the tear from her face and laughing weakly, “I'm sorry, I'm not usually much of a crier but --,”

“But this is your best friend we're talking about, right?” I squeezed her arm gently to reassure her.

“Yeah, “she replied. Then she looked over at my paper and said, “Are you finished? We should probably get back to the common room. It's after ten.”

“Sure,” I said, and we packed up our books and made our way to the seventh floor.

Dean and Ginny were cuddled by the fire and Seamus and Neville were in a pitch Chess battle when we came through the door of the common room.

“Well I think I'm going to turn in Vinny,” said Hermione as she stretched her arms over her head and yawned.

“Yeah, it's been a few days since we got a good night's sleep, huh?”

“True,” she replied, hand still over her yawning mouth, “I have to admit, I am pretty impressed with your talent for Transfiguration and Charms. There's never been anyone in my year that is as good as I am in those subjects.” She blushed for a moment, perhaps thinking that she was tooting her own horn a little.

“Well thank you Hermione. Coming from you that means a lot. I don't think I have ever met someone as intelligent and inquisitive as you before.” Or that smells as nice, or that has eyes just that color, or…

She blushed again, full on this time and said, “I've never had someone who could tutor me in a subject before. It's a nice change.”

“Well, I would just be getting you back for all the help you'd have given me in Arithmacy and Runes. Oh, and don't forget Potions…”

Suddenly there was a hint of delicious awkwardness as we both looked at our feet and realized that we were going out of our way to pay each other compliments for no reason other than to spend a few more moments in each other's company.

“I'm sure you'll be happy with the marks you get when Professor Fenella turns back the essay you wrote,” she said, still not looking at me.

“You mean the essay we wrote?” I asked coyly.

“Yeah,” she said dreamily, looking up at me at last. But then, “No - wait, you wrote it! I just proofread it before you turned it in.”

“I think you did a little more than that! Half the content was rewritten from your paper.”

But she just shook her head and smiled, “Good night, Vinny.”

“See you tomorrow, Hermione.”

I watched her climb the stairs until the last bit of the heel of her shoe disappeared around the corner.

There was a slow, deep wolf-whistle from the direction of the fireplace and I turned to see Ginny, Dean, Neville and Seamus all staring at me with wide smiles.

“Didn't I tell him Neville? `Play your cards right and you may have a chance' I said. Looks like you just turned over a Royal Flush there, mate!”

“No Seamus, more like a pair of deuces,” I replied as I walked across the room.

“But you two looked like you were -“ began Ginny.

“Yeah, but about twenty minutes ago she was crying - over Harry no less.” I said miserably, plopping down on the couch next to her and Dean while Seamus and Neville turned from their game to face us.

“Oh. Yeah, she'll do that,” said Ginny, matter-of-factly.

“Now you tell me…”

Ginny scooted closer to me on the couch and gave me a piteous look that I'm sure was meant to make me feel better, but only served to frustrate me more for some reason.

“I think she's in love with him. She said she can't imagine her life without him in it.”

“Well of course she said that! The two of them have been through so much together. I'm not surprised she would say something like that,” she said, “But that doesn't mean that she is romantically in love with him, does it?”

“Well they have been linked together before, “said Neville, “Remember Rita Skeeter's articles back in fourth year?”

Ginny shook her head at Neville, “That was all nonsense! Ron told me about that; Rita was just looking for a story and she went to Malfoy and his lot for information.”

“Yeah, but still,” began Dean, “Didn't Cho breakup with Harry because of Hermione?”

Ginny shook her head again and turned to Dean as I wondered who Cho was, “No, Harry and Cho never really dated. They just went to Hogsmeade once and then they sort of realized that they weren't any good together.”

She sat back against the couch and then, noticing all eyes were still on her added, “At least that's what I heard.”

I eyed her for a moment and thought; she seems to know a lot about Harry's relationships.

Dean stood up and stretched in front of the fire yawning, “Well, I'm done for the night. Tryouts are tomorrow, better get a good nights sleep.”

“Yeah me too,” said Neville as Seamus nodded in agreement.

They all rose and began packing up their belongings when Dean asked, “Are you trying out tomorrow Vinny?”

The Quidditch tryouts had been the talk of the school for the last half of the week since Harry had set Saturday morning as the date. I hadn't considered trying out, really. I knew I would be outmatched.

“No, I wasn't planning on it.”

“Oh, you should try out!” said Ginny brightly, “You're big and strong, I bet you would make a great beater!”

“Well actually, I played beater back when I was playing Quidditch. I guess it couldn't hurt.”

“Great!” she replied, “See you on the pitch tomorrow, then!”

The four of them walked to the stairs as I dug in my bag for one of the books I had to read for Ancient Runes. I wasn't feeling tired yet and I still had two books to read before Monday morning.

Seamus and Neville disappeared upstairs as Dean gave Ginny a quick kiss goodnight and then followed them. She lingered at the bottom of the stairs for a moment and then, when she was sure the others were gone, she turned and quickly crossed the room, settling next to me on the couch.

I raised an eyebrow at her as she sat; my curiosity peaked by her behavior. She was obviously about to discuss something that she couldn't talk about in front of her boyfriend

“Look Vinny, about Hermione,” she said in a hushed voice, “She and I are friends and if you wanted, I could put in a good word for you. I'm not sure you need it though, Seamus was right; she doesn't usually act like that around just anyone”

I rolled my eyes and said, “Jeez Ginny, wouldn't it be easier if I passed her a note in class that said `Do you like me? Check one' and then had a box for yes and no?”

“Well if you don't want my help all you had to say -“ she frowned and made to rise from the couch but I grabbed her arm and held her back.

“No, I'm sorry Ginny, I could use all the help I can get, I guess.”

Her expression heartened and she turned to me on the couch, sitting cross-legged while tucking a strand of her hair behind an ear.

“I can understand why you would be concerned about her and Harry,” she said, “They spend every waking second together, I know.”

“Ron too,” I added, “I think he might like her. He acts jealous of me when I'm with her and he was jealous of Harry paying her a compliment the other day in Potions.”

She sighed and propped her head in her palm saying, “Ron, Ron, Ron. He does fancy her, I'm sure of it, but there is no way they would work together. They row constantly. They really only have Harry in common.”

I was surprised by Ginny's insight into Ron and Hermione's relationship. Reconsidering, however, I suppose she'd spent plenty of time with the two of them and would have a unique point of view as Ron's sister. Then it occurred to me; was she willing to help me get Hermione knowing that her brother wanted her for himself?

“So even though he is your brother - you are still going to help me with Hermione?” I asked tentatively.

She giggled quietly and said, “I would be doing them both a favor by making sure they never got together. Besides, Ron has a surprisingly big fan club up that staircase,” she gestured to the girl's dormitory entrance, “so it's not like he would be lonely or anything.”

I shrugged my shoulders while I considered her words. Hermione wasn't dating Ron or Harry, I was sure of that now. She seemed to be interested in me, at least enough to spend time alone with me. I supposed having Ginny `put in a good word for me' couldn't hurt anything.

“So, what are you going to say to her about me?” I asked.

“Nothing that isn't true. I'll just tell her how Parvati is always talking about you,” I laughed at that, “and how you are the subject of many late night discussions in the fifth year dorms. I'll try and paint you as the most eligible bachelor in Hogwarts” she eyed me slyly and added, “Easiest painting ever.”

I felt myself blushing but said, “Why are you helping me with this, Ginny? Do you get your jolly's playing matchmaker?”

She got up off the couch and started towards the girls staircase again, “No, not really. I have my motivations. You better not stay up too late if you really do plan on trying out for Quidditch tomorrow. I hear it's going to be pretty competitive this year.”

“Oh, are you on the team?” I asked.

“Yes, I was last year. We'll see if I can measure up this season. G'night Vinny.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow Gin, and thanks.”

As she climbed the stairs I was reminded of the picture Creevey had taken of her on the first day of school. I had to shake my head to look away as she bounced out of sight.

I sighed heavily, wondering if I had just made a big mistake, and suddenly felt a strong urge to have a smoke while I read that stupid book on Runes. I reached into my robe pocket, produced my pack of Marlbouros and lit one with my wand as I settled next to the fire.

I was about two thirds down to the filter, and still trying to read the same paragraph when I heard footsteps on the girl's stairs again. Ginny must have forgot something, I thought. I wouldn't care if she knew I smoked. She seemed the kind of girl who might smoke herself, in fact. As I looked up from my book however, I realized I was busted.

“Vinny! Are you smoking?” said Hermione in a loud whisper.

“Uh -- no?” but as I exhaled the words a puff of smoke escaped my mouth. Damn, talk about bad timing.

“Oh Vinny, that is such a horrible habit!” she crossed the room and knelt next me in front of the fire, “and I'm sure you know that there is no smoking allowed by any student on school grounds. As a prefect, I should be taking points from you for this!”

The threat of docking points was nothing compared to the look she was giving me. It was awful, like I had cheated on her with her sister or something. Worse, she was wearing a nightgown and robe that made me want to hold her tight next to that cozy fireplace and for all I knew, Ginny had went straight upstairs and talked to her about me. She may have come down to talk to me about things.

Not going to happen now.

I flicked the butt into the fire and breathed the last of the smoke up the floo then said, “Hermione, I'm not going to defend it, I smoke and I know it's bad, but where was I supposed to do it? It's not like the school has a smoking area. The Astronomy tower is a little busy this time of night, remember?”

She leaned back, pulled her knees to her chin and shook her head slowly, “You shouldn't be doing it at all Vinny. You know the rules.”

I sighed and felt my teeth start to grind as I looked at her. She was disappointed in me, the way she had been when she looked at my notes that day after Runes. I felt something snap inside me and suddenly I was on my feet heading up the boys staircase.

“Stay right there. I'll be back,” I said coolly.

I returned a moment later with every cigarette I had bought for my time at Hogwarts. Without hesitation I tossed them into the fire and then took the last pack that I had pulled the cigarette from earlier and looked at it with distain saying, “You're right Hermione. It's time to quite.”

I tossed it in too and breather the peculiar aroma of burning tobacco and plastic.

Hermione's face had a surprised but happy expression and I instantly felt better about what I had just done.

“So, do you think you can just go cold turkey like that?” she asked, leaning close to me and putting her hand on my arm.

“Well, unless I learn a spell to conjure cigarettes in the next few days, I don't have much of a choice do I?”

“Oh Vinny, I'm proud of you!” she grabbed me in a tight embrace, and I wished I had a coke habit or something more serious so I could have seen what she would have done had I given that up. “I know you can do it. If there is anything I can do to make it easier, just let me know, alright?”

I held her tight for a moment, and then let my arms fall to her waist where they seemed to fit perfectly.

“I've been looking for a good reason to quite, and look; here she is right in front of me.”

She gazed up at me, that fire doing wonderful things to the cinnamon of her eyes and the caramel of her hair. I adjusted my hold on her waist slightly, feeling the smallness of her form before me and the light touch of her hands on my shoulders as my self control and resolve to not kiss her failed right then and there.

“Vinny,” she said, as I was just about to move my lips to hers, “You're very charming, and I'm happy you're quitting but-- you smell like cigarettes.”

It was such a vicious denial that I could do nothing but smile wanly at her and release her from the embrace that a moment ago, a Sasquatch couldn't have pried open.

She rose quickly and crossed the room before I could come up with anything worth saying aloud.

“See you in the morning Vinny.”

“Yeah,” was all I could manage.

AN- And you though the quill incident was bad… Come back next time for Tryouts.