Two Weeks Notice

Two Weeks Notice

Ships: HP/HG

Spoilers: All five canon books.

Chapter One - Old Quarrels, Salted Wounds

Harry Potter sat in the Gryffindor Common Room, working on his Advanced Potions Homework. He would have preferred to be doing almost anything else right now, but he'd already put it off as long as he could - and besides, Ron and Hermione had insisted that he study with them. Harry wasn't sure if they felt guilty for all the time they'd been spending together without him, or if they were hoping he'd help referee their latest fight. He was happy to be with them - and not just because he was sure that some questions couldn't be answered without Hermione's help.

Most people had long been sure that Ron and Hermione would be the perfect couple. Harry had never been sure about that, but he wasn't going to tell them otherwise. Ron had been his best friend since they were both eleven, but had always felt like he was second best. Harry could tell that this time, he felt he'd managed to wind up fulfilling all his dreams, this time, he wasn't following in the footsteps of an older brother or winding up with what was leftover. Although Hermione probably wouldn't have liked being lumped in with broomsticks or dress robes, she was definitely the best thing to happen to Ron. Harry couldn't imagine him being any luckier, although luck didn't always seem to translate to happiness.

Harry looked over at Hermione. She was staring down at her History of Magic text, absently twirling her hair around her finger. She had a frown on her face, and her eyes weren't as brilliant as they'd been when she'd helped Ron break the news that they were now a couple. She didn't seem to be focusing too well on the book.

Ron didn't seem to notice. He was avidly reading Quidditch Weekly, which Harry didn't think constituted homework. I wonder why Hermione isn't giving him grief for that, Harry thought, but he gave a mental shrug, and went back for staring at Hermione and waiting for her to look up, so he could ask her his question. He certainly wasn't going to break the silence by asking Ron about the magazine - either Hermione was too distracted to notice, or she was still hacked off about whatever they'd been fighting about last night.

As it turned out, he didn't have to break the silence. A white blur did it for him, streaking through the window, and dropping a neatly addressed envelope in front of Hermione before settling on Harry's shoulder. "Oy, Hedwig," he said, feeding her an owl treat. Hermione had borrowed Hedwig just yesterday to send a note home, probably a bit of damage control regarding news that might have reached her parents after the last student attacked Hermione in the halls.

Hermione took the letter, and started to open it, before she spoke up, softly. "Ron," she said, "it's from my parents."

Ron didn't look up, but he stopped reading.

"What should I say, Ron, if they ask?"

"We've already talked about it, Hermione." Ron sounded just like Percy. Harry wondered if it went with the Prefect badge. "You can go if you want to, but I'm not coming." Giving her permission to go somewhere? Harry saw Dean and Seamus jump up from a neighboring couch and head for cover, but he just stopped looking at Hermione and started staring down at his book, wishing he had his Invisibility Cloak to get him away from the impending doom.

She didn't explode, but just snapped back at Ron, sharply. "They've already got tickets, Ron. You already said you'd come..."

"To your house, yes, but not to some ruddy formal."

"You can't just sit at the house alone," she snapped back.

"Why would it have to be alone, 'Mione? You could just stay with me."

"I hardly think my parents would leave us there unchaperoned. And besides, father's so proud of this award. He's gotten quite a few different ones before, but they were all regional. None of them were ever as prestigious as..."

"I don't want to talk about it," Ron said. Harry's head snapped back up, looking at Hermione. He was sure that this would cause an explosion.

Hermione took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. At least one of Harry's friends was learning how to cool down. He guessed she'd had plenty of practice.

She didn't say a word to Ron, and he didn't say anything either. His jaw was set so far forward that Harry thought he looked suspiciously like Ripper, Aunt Marge's slightly maniacal dog. Harry smothered the laugh, though, knowing that both of his friends would probably be more than happy to use him as an outlet for their anger. He just focused his eyes keenly on Hermione, and almost didn't notice when Ron stood up and left the table.

.~.~.

"Albus Dumbledore, you have gone too far," Professor Minerva McGonagall spat at the headmaster. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"

"You have asked me that question before, Minerva, and I can only say that I am doing what needs to be done," the Headmaster of Hogwarts spoke placidly, not responding to the venom in her voice.

"What you think needs to be done, you mean."

"I am always open to suggestions, Minerva."

"Certainly you are," she snapped back. "As long as no one expects you to actually take them."

"Minerva, I have to think about what is best for all of the children under my care."

"Yes, you do. Is it best that they believe that their Headmaster is an uncaring, crotchety old fool?"

This seemed to strike a nerve. "Minerva, I cannot quibble with any of your other words, but I doubt that many would consider me uncaring."

"You are deliberately using Sybill Trelawney as bait. For all that she's a complete and utter fraud, holding her out to attract Voldemort's attention is reckless."

"Would you rather I used Harry? or Miss Granger?" The Headmaster's spectacles crept down his nose, and he looked over them at the Headmistress. "Voldemort showed himself, in person, the last time he had a chance to get the prophecy. If he believes that there is a way to get it, he will do so. I have already had to expel three students who were ordered to kidnap Hermione in order to extract the prophecy -- why they assume she has it, I do not know. If I continue expelling students at this rate, Minerva, by next year there will be no one left in Slytherin."

Minerva's eyes grew dreamy. "Would that be so bad?"

"Minerva." His tone was severe.

"I understand, Albus. But you can't use Trelawney this way. She doesn't even know, does she?"

"I attempted to explain, but she informed me that all of our efforts were for naught, as Harry was extremely likely to die a week from next Tuesday of a bite from a rabid Canadian black tree rat." The Headmaster's ability to deliver this statement in complete deadpan was amazing. "Minerva, there are elements of my plan that I cannot take time to explain."

"To us mere Professors, you mean?" The sarcasm was dripping from her voice.

"To anyone," Dumbledore said, "although I have hinted at certain important elements to Severus."

"You trust him before me? There was a time when that would not have been the case." Talking of that time was forbidden between the two, by mutual and unspoken consent. It was an end to any conversation, just as the mention of Grindelwald was deemed to bring any class discussion to an end. She turned, and gracefully walked from his office, making it clear that she left by her own decision. Her animal form, after all, was a cat.

She heard him answer, though, and was surprised. "You cannot possibly miss that more than I do." She didn't show any response, though, and walked off, as if she had not heard.

Chapter Two - Problem Statements

Ron hadn't shown up at the Library yet. He seemed to be avoiding Hermione, although she didn't seem to mind that much. At least, she wasn't seeking Ron out, either. She also wasn't seeking Harry out, but he had her routine memorized - he knew when she came in and left for meals, what order she walked the Library stacks in, and even when she was most likely to come down to the common room on evenings looking for company. Somehow, he always managed to put himself in the way.

It had been harder since her and Ron had become a couple, and Harry wondered if he was intruding. He knew that Hermione didn't like him in any romantic way, but he wondered if she felt awkward about his presence. That didn't stop him from being there whenever possible, though.

Now he sat at the table, and Hermione sat across from him. She looked sad. She was pulling at her hair as she did when there was something on her mind, and she hadn't really met his eyes. The edge of the envelope with her parent's letter still stuck out of her Charms book, although it had been a few days since she got it.

He realized that he was staring just moments before she did. She looked up at him, and their eyes met. Harry saw that she was more tired than he'd thought. He spoke first. "Are you alright, Hermione?"

"Not too bad," she lied, and he could hear it.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, that's alright. You don't want to hear it from me, I'm sure. You probably get enough of an earful from Ron."

Harry shook his head. "He doesn't talk about you with me."

"Really?" She didn't seem to appreciate that.

"I think he's afraid to brag, you know, that if he talks about how perfect you are, it'll just remind me that I'm alone."

She looked concerned. "Do we do that, Harry? I'm sorry."

"No," he interrupted. "You don't. I'm just happy to see you both together. You both seem so happy. Well, usually, anyway," he amended, given her current state.

"We used to be," she looked down. "Lately...I've had the feeling that maybe he's not really interested in me."

"I can't believe that, Hermione. You know we'd be lost without you -- I mean, Ron just isn't the same when he's alone."

"I'm sure he likes me, I just don't think he's interested in a serious relationship. I can't believe he won't come to the party..."

"Has he said why he won't come?" Harry didn't really want to get between his friends, but he could see that Hermione needed someone.

"I think it's partly because he doesn't have any Muggle dress clothes. Molly found him some, but I think they're second-hand. They're powder blue with bell-bottoms. He's really embarrassed about them."

"Is there some way that I could help? I mean, I could pretend to order a set for myself, and then tell them that they were too big, or something?"

"Harry, I'm sure you could teach a course on giving Ron gifts without him knowing. I think he'd see through it this time, though, since he knows I want him to come. He'd probably just get angry with you for interfering, or he'd yell at me for letting you. I don't really want to spend the next week refereeing between you, especially not now."

"What's special about now?"

"Well, nothing. Just forget about it. I'm hoping nothing will come of it, anyway." She looked a little nervous.

Harry was mildly alarmed. Hermione was generally pretty forthright about things. If she said that she was "hoping nothing would come of something," that usually meant it was a dead certainty, and she didn't want to talk about it. She was trying hard to change the subject, though.

"So, did you finish your History of Magic assignment?" she asked. "I had the hardest time finding the reference that Binns had made to the minor Goblin rebellion in North America in the 1860s. Apparently, it was just a bunch of drunken Goblins who'd emigrated from Ireland, and didn't like anyone else. Honestly, calling it a rebellion."

She was in full swing, and Harry decided not to try to interrupt. He hoped that everything would work out, one way or another. Hermione just didn't deserve to be as depressed as she'd sounded. He saw a book poking out from her bag -- Paradise Lost -- something for Muggle Studies, no doubt, but the title seemed oddly fitting.

~.~.~

McGonagall opened her door slowly. "Well, Miss Granger. What seems to be the trouble?"

"I wanted to talk to you about... the letter from my parents. They wrote again, and I don't know if there's any way I can dissuade them. Is there anything you or the Headmaster can do?"

"I'm afraid not. I've already been arguing with the Headmaster for the last few days. He has a grand idea, some plan that he thinks this will fit perfectly with. You didn't hear it from me, but I think he's finally gone completely mad."

McGonagall realized that she was still holding the door opened, and that she'd just serenaded a hallway - which, at least, looked empty. She pulled Hermione inside, and shut the door.

"I've decided to come with you."

"Really, Professor? That's wonderful." Hermione looked genuinely happy, and McGonagall's heart leapt at the adoration of a student, especially one as advanced as Miss Granger.

"I've worked it all out with Billabong University, and they've agreed to take me on as there Professor of Transfigurations and Animal Charms." Her lips turned slightly at this - the title still made her think of Aberforth Dumbledore. "Their current Professor is trying to recover from being turned into a newt, so they need someone to start immediately after the winter break."

"That's really great, Professor. There's no one else I'd rather have with me."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Although," she said knowingly, "I can think of at least one person I'd want with me, in your place."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry needs to be here to fight Voldemort, and I could care less where Ron is. I wouldn't mind bringing Ginny with me, to get her out of the line of fire if nothing else, but I don't think Seamus would appreciate it very much."

"And what has Mister Weasley done to incur your wrath this time? Did he react badly to the news?"

"I haven't told him yet," Hermione admitted, shamefully.

"I'm surprised at you, Miss Granger. I wouldn't have expected you to leave your friends in the dark about news of this magnitude, especially Mister Weasley."

"I don't know how to tell Ron. He'll think I'm just leaving to leave him, or that my parents don't think he's good enough. It would be awful if he thought I'd go through all this just to break up with him...."

"How Mister Weasley acts is entirely his problem -- if he gives you any trouble, I will personally assign him detention. You need to tell your friends, though, and you need to give them a proper goodbye."

"Are you sure that Dumbledore can't stop this? I mean, Harry told me the Prophecy - is it safe for me to leave here?"

"Hush, child, and never admit to knowing it. Besides," she sighed, "I already tried that argument, and it didn't work."

"How did Albus take your resignation?"

"Well, I hadn't told him yet."

"Professor!" Hermione's tone was scathing, and McGonagall felt properly chastened.

"I only just found out that my transfer was approved yesterday, and I haven't had time to talk to him about it yet."

"But what's he going to do? It could take weeks to find a Professor."

"Hardly. It's not like it's the Dark Arts position. I'm sure that they'll find someone to take it very quickly. If nothing else, I'll try to get them to hire Molly Weasley. She used to be quite good at transfiguring things into rabbits."

Hermione giggled. That seemed oddly appropriate.

McGonagall was still talking, and had changed the subject back to Hermione's territory. "I, however, am not currently involved with Albus, the way that you are with Ron. Ours is a purely professional relationship right now, and I don't see why I need to give him more than a few weeks notice."

Hermione noted with interest the words "currently" and "right now", but felt that throwing them back at her Professor would be inappropriate at present. "I'll tell Ron, Professor. And Harry. I owe that to both of them."

"Yes, you do. And now, if you don't mind, I think I need to compose my letter of Resignation. Let me know if you have any trouble with Mister Weasley."

Hermione nodded, resigned to what was coming up, and left.

Hermione took the long way getting back to the dormitory, and was surprised when she still managed to run into Ron. "What are you doing here?" she was almost angry with him.

"I, umm, asked Harry if I could borrow the Map," he held up the Marauder's Map. "I didn't want to stew for a month before we made up this time. Could we just, you know, not fight?" Ron looked really endearing when he was begging for something from Hermione.

"Oh, of course, Ron." She reached out her hand to him, and he grasped it, pulling her close to him. He was leaning over, and then a voice interrupted them. "Ron? Are you coming?"

Hermione took a step back, and saw Pavarti Patil, leaning out of the Charms classroom. Pavarti's eyes widened when she saw Hermione. "I didn't think you were coming."

Hermione looked back at Ron, her eyes also wide. "Ron, what aren't you telling me?"

"Well, it was nothing, really. Pavarti just offered to help me on my Charms essay, and I knew you were too busy."

"You didn't borrow the map to find me, did you?"

"Well, no, but I really didn't want you to stay angry anymore." He was trying to step in, and his lips were beginning to pucker, but Hermione stepped back.

"Well, forgive me for interrupting then. Pavarti, he's all yours. When you're quite through, Ronald, there's something that you should know. Ask Harry - I'll give him all the details, so I don't have to run through them twice."

Chapter Three - Impending Goodbyes

"He tried to kiss me, Harry!" Hermione seemed spitting mad. She'd pulled Harry to one of the unused classrooms without really explaining what was up.

Harry winced. "Hermione, I don't see what the big deal is. You've kissed before, and you haven't needed to tell me all about it."

"Not like that - he was meeting Pavarti, and it was obvious what she had on her mind, and he had the gall to try to kiss me!"

"Meeting Pavarti?" Harry felt like he was a few steps behind. "But you two...you were, well."

"We're through," she said. "Even if I weren't leaving, I wouldn't stay with him after this. I can't believe that after everything we've been through, Ron is still such a...such a boy!"

"Leaving?" Harry was sure he was several steps behind, and he didn't like what he heard. "You're leaving? You just mean you're going home for the holidays, right?"

"Oh, Harry, this isn't how I wanted to tell you."

"Why are you leaving? I mean, aren't you going to finish Hogwarts?"

"I'm transferring to Billabong University. It's not the best Wizarding school in the world, but it's respectable, and it has one of the best female faculty ratios in the world. McGonagall is coming, as well, so I'm quite sure I'll have a good grounding in the subjects in which I'm interested."

"But why are you leaving? Is it... is it because of Ron?"

"No, it's not. It's because of... You Know Who. My parents, they don't think I'm safe here."

"Because of me."

"No, because of You Know Who. I'm Muggle-born, Harry. Being your friend doesn't make me any more unsafe than that."

"But, if I'd gotten You Know Who - if he hadn't come back - you wouldn't need to go."

"If you weren't who you are, we wouldn't be friends, Harry. This isn't about you. This is about my parents treating me like I'm still in Nursery School. I'm not a five-year old anymore."

"You certainly aren't!"

"Harry!"

"What? I mean, well, I didn't mean that. I just meant that you'd done more than most people who've graduated Hogwarts. I mean, it's not fair to treat you like this just because you've got two years to go, when Fred and George are allowed to run free."

"Sorry, Harry, I know you weren't trying to be forward. That just sounded like something Ron would have said."

"He just likes you."

"No, Harry, he likes being with me. He doesn't like me. If he liked me, he'd compromise occasionally."

"But what about the time when, well, how about when you, oh not that one..." Harry was trying to find a way to defend Ron, but he couldn't think of a single compromise he'd made, unless you counted the time he agreed to skip Quidditch practice to spend time with Hermione. Since they spent the time sneaking down to Honeyduke's in the rain, Harry didn't think that was much of a compromise. Practice was cancelled anyway.

Harry tried to continue. "Well, why can't we just send Ron away, then?"

"What? Harry, this isn't about Ron. My parents just want me to be safe. They'll probably be safer too, with me not around, since You Know Who won't get anything out of intimidating me. Besides, Ron's your best friend. You wouldn't want him to go."

"You're my best friend, too, and in case you haven't noticed, you've done a lot more with me this last year than Ron has. You're the one talking to me...you're not the one meeting Pavarti Patil in a dark classroom."

Hermione snorted. "In Ron's dreams!"

Harry didn't quite shut his mouth in time. "How did you know about that?"

Her jaw dropped.

"Sorry, didn't mean to say that. Well, you're here until the end of the term, aren't you?" He was trying a conversational move they'd nicknamed the Hagrid Feint, an even more risky move than the Wronski.

"Harry, what did you mean about..."

"Hermione, how long do we have to say goodbye?" Harry interrupted her.

"Just until we take our next exams. Two weeks."

"That's all? After all we've been through here?"

"It's not the end, Harry. You can visit when you're done with Hogwarts."

He didn't like something in her phrasing. "What about when you're done with Billabong?"

"Well, Harry, they don't do things there like we do here. They complete their secondary education in six years, not seven - and they don't cover as much as we do even in those six. I'm actually starting a post-secondary degree. It will take a little longer."

"How long?"

"Four years."

"Can you visit?"

"Albus has asked their Ministry to keep me inside the country. I don't think I'll be allowed to until I'm finished. I'm sorry, Harry."

Years until he could see her again. "That's all right. I suppose I should be used to it by now."

"What?"

"The people I care about, leaving." He didn't care that he sounded petulant - if it would make her stay, he'd gladly beg, but he figured that would be overdoing it a little.

"Harry! I don't want to go." She sounded anguished. "I've done everything I can. I'm so sorry, Harry. If I had a choice, I'd stay here with you."

Now, he felt guilty. He forced himself to smile. "Thanks, Hermione. I'm sorry if it sounded like I was angry with you. Lets just make the most of the next two weeks, shall we?"

"I'd love to, Harry. Should we meet tomorrow in the Library to study?"

"That would be nice, but I've got another idea. I'll meet you outside, by the lake, after Divination."

"Harry, you need to study. I've seen your test scores - you can't afford not to."

"Don't worry about me, Hermione. The only one that I'm worried about is Potions, and Snape's doing that one early, so that we can stew about our grades longer. It's tomorrow morning. Since you didn't go for Advanced Potions this year, you don't need to worry about it."

She looked horrified. "Then, I'm keeping you from studying now? I'm sorry, I'll let you get back to it." They parted reluctantly, promising to meet again the next afternoon.

~.~.~

"Please forgive me for saying this, but I told you so!" McGonagall snapped at the Headmaster.

"Of course, I am delighted to forgive you, Minerva. You are quite correct! You did tell me that something would happen. It is not exactly what you expected, however."

"What do you mean?"

"I will have to explain later... I believe that Mister Potter is pacing outside my gargoyle." He gestured, and a few moments later, Harry was there.

"Oh, sorry, Headmaster. I didn't know you were both talking."

"Quite alright, Harry. I assume this is about Miss Granger?"

"Yes." Harry was silent for a moment. "I can come back later, if you'd like."

The Headmaster and Minerva exchanged a glance, and Minerva cleared her throat. "Actually, I have to be going. We will have to continue our discussion later, Albus."

"I look forward to it," Albus acknowledged, tipping his head ironically.

She walked out primly. She didn't look exactly displeased to go, however.

Harry hemmed and hawed for a moment, and apologized a few more times for the interruption, before he finally got to the point. "Headmaster, does Hermione want to go?"

"I would think that was a question that you should ask her."

"She sounds so resigned to going, but she's trying to put a brave face on it. I don't know if she'd say what I wanted to hear or not. I guess I just wondered... I thought you might know if she wanted to leave."

"Harry, in some ways, I'm certain that she does. Her relationship with Mister Weasley does not seem to be progressing in the way that she would have liked, and it is much easier to say goodbye than to be reminded of such a failure, especially for someone as results oriented as Miss Granger. Keep in mind that she is afraid that by losing him, she may lose both of you as friends. Nonetheless," his hand waved away Harry's denials, "I know for a fact that she would rather do anything than go. I had hoped that certain moves on my part might draw out Voldemort, making it less likely that he would seek to capture Miss Granger, but by this point, I believe that certain binding agreements have been made. Hogwarts will be responsible for providing at least one sixth year student to Billabong."

"Not to mention a Professor," Harry said, under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Albus' eyebrows lifted in question.

"I'm sorry - wasn't I supposed to know about McGonagall? Hermione let it slip, but she wouldn't have done that if she weren't supposed to."

Albus looked suddenly pale, although it was hard to see that in the little of his face that was exposed. "No, Harry. I'm certain that it is fine that you know this. I feel suddenly very faint. Do you suppose that we could continue this discussion in the morning?"

Harry nodded, not sure what was wrong, moved towards the door. There was a burst of fire in the fireplace, and the face of Severus Snape appeared. He didn't notice that Harry was still there. "Headmaster, are you sure about the wording of this? The exact wording?"

"Yes, Severus, I am. I would not willingly risk one of my faculty's lives if I were not completely sure."

"Good," Severus seemed satisfied, and suddenly severed his speech.

"What was that about?" Harry asked, although he expected he was overstepping his bounds.

"I am afraid that Professor Trelawney has been taken."

Harry's eyes grew wide, and he breathed inward, sharply.

"Do not worry, Harry." The Professor's eyes were twinkling. "I have been waiting for this time since your first week in Divination, and I believe that I have adequately prepared for this moment, with the help of both you and Mister Weasley." Albus offered a half-hearted grin. "Don't worry, Harry. When the time comes for you to worry, I shall indeed let you know. Now get some sleep!"

Harry left the Headmaster's office feeling a little confused, but that was generally normal.

Chapter Four -- What's really important...

Harry had a dream that night. He had almost totally blocked out Voldemort, thanks to Albus' lessons, but tonight he was too upset to block him out.

Harry didn't think Voldemort knew that he was watching. The Dark Lord seemed frustrated. He had Professor Trelawney up on a rack, intent on torturing her, but she wasn't resisting. She seemed intent on spilling anything and everything, and even asked the Dark Lord for his autograph. Apparently, since she knew that Harry was destined to die anyway, she wanted to get on the good side of the wizard that was going to win.

At the mention of Harry dying, Voldemort perked up. He looked at her, expectantly, and his disturbing voice seemed to shake the room. "Potter is going to die? You have seen this? How delightful!"

Severus Snape's sneering voice sounded somewhere near. "Wouldn't it be useful to determine how, exactly, he will die, and when, so that we can take advantage of it?"

Voldemort whirled. "And how would you plan on doing this, Severus? You know I still don't trust you, although I did very much appreciate the box of chocolates and the new heels."

Severus pulled out a vial labeled 'Veritaserum.' "I would suggest using this." He stepped up, and poured it down Trelawney's throat. She looked irked at the distrust, but didn't protest much.

"Sybill Trelawney," Severus said, forcefully, looking her straight in the eye. "Have you received any information, from any source, that tells you how Harry will die, particularly involving a place outside Hogwarts and a time in the next two weeks?"

Voldemort looked at him strangely. "How did you know to ask that?"

Severus shrugged. "I must have been guided by my Inner Eye."

Sybill coughed at this, and seemed ready to dispute Severus' possession of any such thing, but Voldemort nodded. "Answer him!"

Sybill quickly answered, in excruciating detail. "He will have a falling out with his friend, Ronald Weasley. The two will go into the Forbidden Forest, following the trails of some spiders, for a duel, which Harry will win handily. However, an enraged, rabid, kamikaze squirrel will bite him, and he will die a few weeks later of the illness."

"You see!" Severus said triumphantly. "You will soon have your triumph, my Lord."

"This calls for a celebration!" Voldemort cried.

"Yes, my Lord. I'll call for some Muggle delivery."

"Make sure he's slimmer than the last one - Nagini needs to watch her weight."

"But of course."

Harry suddenly woke up, the pain in his scar waning. He didn't remember anything in Albus' Pensieve about killer squirrels. Had Severus managed to get the wrong prophecy out of her?

He needed to tell Dumbledore what he'd heard. He pulled on his robe, and grabbed the Marauder's Map and his Invisibility Cloak. Then he hesitated - he probably was better off telling Ron where he was going, in case he didn't make it back before breakfast. Harry pulled Ron's curtains aside - but Ron was already gone.

~.~.~

Hermione couldn't sleep. She'd known from the start that she and Ron were an explosive combination, she'd just had a different kind of bang in mind. This constant fighting was driving her crazy, and not in a good way.

She was sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, reading the Billabong University Catalog and Concise History. She hadn't been able to find a satisfyingly thick history book yet, probably because the school was so young. It had celebrated it's centennial recently, and had acted like that was a major accomplishment. There wasn't much meat in the book, but it was at least helping keep her mind off her boy problems.

She felt a little apprehensive reading down here. She would have preferred to read in her dormitory, but the other girls complained if she had her light on at night. She'd tried using Lumos, but hadn't been able to maintain it well enough when she got really entranced in her books. Reading down here was nice and comfortable, but Ron had a way of assuming it was an introduction to snog, which had stopped being nice and relaxing soon after the novelty wore off. Not that she was through with snogging permanently, she just didn't feel any need to continue with Ron.

She heard a soft sound, like footsteps, behind her, and turned, alarmed. She didn't see anything, although that wasn't too meaningful in this area. She whispered, "Harry?"

Harry's head appeared from beneath a cloak. "Hi, Hermione." He looked uncomfortable.

"Harry, what's wrong?"

"It's my scar again. I've got to tell Dumbledore. Could you tell Ron, if you see him?"

"I thought you were blocking Voldemort? How could he get through your scar? And what do you mean, 'if I see Ron'?"

"Erm, I've been blocking him, I just had other things on my mind tonight, and it threw me off. I'm not going to do anything but tell Dumbledore, though, so you needn't worry that he's leading me astray again. And Ron -- I'm sure he's asleep, and I didn't want to wake him." He was looking sideways as he said it, and Hermione was sure there was something he wasn't saying. She decided to interrogate him for it later, though. He started to walk out, but came back. "Just a second, there's something I need to get for you." He ran upstairs to his room, and came back down with a crudely wrapped package. "I hope you like it - I was going to give it to you for Christmas, but, well, there doesn't seem to be much point in waiting. Good night, Hermione, I've got to run." He hurried off, not giving her a chance to respond.

She unwrapped the package. It was a Muggle book-light, a small piece of plastic meant to clip onto a book and provide just barely enough light to read by. There was a little note - Harry had managed to enchant it to work despite all the magical interference at Hogwarts. This wasn't a huge accomplishment, since there was nothing electronic inside like in phones or radios to mess up, but it must have taken him some time.

It was the most thoughtful gift he'd ever gotten her. Why couldn't Ron be more like Harry?

~.~.~

The exam the next day was easier for Harry than he'd expected. Snape was in his usual bad mood, but seemed to be having difficulty concentrating. His whole face was red, the skin under his eyes sagging with a hint of yellow, and he seemed to be ready to explode at the slightest noise. In his apparently ill state, the Potions master had trouble coming up with his normally witty comebacks, and he hardly managed to take any points off Gryffindor at all. Ron didn't say anything to Harry during the exam, which was just as well, since he wasn't sure what he could say to him with anyone else around. He didn't think he could talk to Ron without mentioning what he'd seen on the Marauder's Map, but he wasn't going to take a risk on someone overhearing and telling Hermione. She might have newly decided that she was through with Ron, but that didn't mean she'd want to hear that a circle with his name on it had been partially hiding Pavarti's circle for most of the night.

After the exam was Divination, which Firenze taught in place of Trelawney. It was a great change of pace, although Harry was a little put off at not being able to turn in his most recent assignment. It was a great work of art, which included death from an aggravated hangnail, total memory obliviation by a blond Slytherin, him losing his powers as the result of casting a major spell against Death Eaters, and a prediction of public humiliation by a major tabloid.

Ron seemed more interested in talking to Harry, with Hermione not around, but Harry stayed thin-lipped and didn't say a thing. After Divination, when Pavarti called over to Ron, Harry managed to lose him. He hurried down to the kitchens for a picnic basket, and then outside, by the lake. Hermione had selected a spot, and apparently had placed a warming charm on it. Harry had entertained notions of going into the Forest or sneaking down to Hogsmeade, but the cold November weather effectively dissuaded him.

Hermione was already waiting for him. She looked tired, but her face lit up when she saw him. Her bushy brown hair was glistening in the sunlight. He unconsciously reached up, to tease his own hair into place, despite the fact that he knew it was a lost cause.

She was full of questions, as usual. "So, what did you see last night? What did Dumbledore say?"

"Trelawney was kidnapped by Voldemort."

"Oh, Harry!" She covered her mouth. "Does he have the prophecy?"

"He thinks he does," Harry smiled, "but I think Albus has everything well under control. Now, I insist that we call a halt on all talk of Voldemort, prophecies, and other such nonsense. Let's talk about something more important."

"Such as?"

"Such as, what about this Billabong University. What is it like?"

Hermione launched into a deep explanation of where she was going. Harry was happy to see her excited. He also got a happy thrill from the way she kept comparing her new school to Hogwarts disparagingly, which made it clear that she wasn't at all positive that it would be better.

It took her almost an hour to wind down, but Harry kept his patience. Ordinarily, he probably would have lost patience after the first few minutes, and he could have depended on Ron to interrupt. Without Ron there to egg him on, though, he found himself lost in listening to Hermione's voice. It had an almost hypnotic quality. She only paused for the occasional bite from the picnic, while Harry, remaining mostly quiet, managed to eat his fill.

Eventually, Hermione looked up at the sun, then back down at Harry. "I'm sorry, Harry, I've taken your whole afternoon. You didn't need to listen to me talk like that."

He shook his head. "No problem, Hermione. I'm glad to know more about where you'll be. It's good to know it's not a bad place. Just so you know you'll be missed, right?"

She bit her lip, nodding. She was sure that Harry would miss her, and that meant something important. She was also sure that she'd miss Harry, although she wasn't too sure about how she'd feel about Ron. She hadn't even been able to tell him, yet.

They were both silent for a few minutes, and it was growing uncomfortable. "So, Harry, how is the rest of the Quidditch Season shaping up?"

"Alright, I guess," he shrugged. "Nothing that interesting, really. They're talking about moving the interhouse Quidditch cup games earlier, and having the winner play the Durmstrang team, but that's just talk."

Hermione didn't have many other ideas for how to break the silence, so she decided to press the topic. "Do you know much about their team? Viktor didn't talk about them much, but I gathered that they were pretty good."

It was Harry's turn to expound on what he knew. They took turns, trying to find topics that didn't invoke Voldemort or remind them too much that Hermione was leaving. They were having a great time, but the sun's descent was hard to ignore. They walked back to the castle, still talking animatedly.

Chapter Five - Announcements

Harry put the picnic basket to the side as they entered the Castle - he figured that a House Elf would pick it up anyway, so there was no reason to be too obvious. As they entered the Great Hall, he saw that he needn't have worried - everyone was much too engrossed in listening to Dumbledore, who had risen to make an announcement before dinner.

"...and so, it is with much regret, that I accept the resignation of Deputy Headmistress McGonagall. I'm afraid that I only heard the news late last night, and as such, I have yet to hire a replacement for her - I expect that I shall have less trouble with this than with the Dark Arts position, however, as it's occupants seem to have a longer tenure." There was a titter of laughter from among the students. The Slytherins seemed to be in an unusually good mood, although Harry wasn't sure if it was because of his impending doom at the hands of a tree-bound rodent or because Gryffindor was losing it's famous head of house. By now, Harry and Hermione had found their seats, without fanfare or comments from Ron.

"We will also be losing one of our students. Miss Hermione Granger will be transferring to Billabong University, in Australia, where Professor McGonagall has accepted a teaching position. I am certain that Miss Granger will be missed by all, except possibly the other candidates for next year's Head Girl." Ron turned and looked at Hermione with horror as the Professor finished his statements.

"I am not certain that anyone here knows the true loss that this will mean for our school. I have relied upon Professor McGonagall to keep me in line for many years, and if she has not always succeeded, you may accredit that to my stubbornness. I cannot...I cannot say what she has meant to me, and to Hogwarts..." The Headmaster abruptly sat down, shading his eyes with his hands.

Severus Snape stood up, addressing the school, drawing attention away from the Headmaster. "I must second the Headmaster's accolades. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House when I was in school here, and she was most supportive of me, especially during certain...incidents...involving members of her House, despite my House background."

"I will also be sorry to see Miss Granger go. She was certainly one of the most acceptable of her Gryffindor classmates, as well as one of the more promising prefects of her year. In addition, while she was still in my class, she often helped keep the classroom accidents to a minimum, and I'm certain that Mister Longbottom thinks of her every time he buys a new caldron." More laughter followed this jeering, especially from the Slytherin tables. Hermione was crying, though, obviously touched.

The Headmaster appeared to have recovered by now, and he spoke again. "We have decided to move our usual Yule-time ball to earlier, this year, in order to hold it to before our friends leave us. It will be held a week from Friday, and all years are expected to attend. As we did not provide sufficient notice for this event, we will expect all students below fourth year to attend in their normal class robes."

"Please join us all in wishing them well. Now, I have only one other thing to say... Tuck in."

Ron was looking daggers at Hermione. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was going to at dinner tonight, Ron. I didn't think that he'd announce it to the whole school tonight -- it was supposed to be kept secret."

Pavarti was sitting next to Ron, not quite leaning against him, but closer than Harry thought was proper. She was looking at Harry, however. "You're awfully quiet, Potter. Did she tell you?"

Ron looked at Harry with murder in his eyes. "She didn't? You would have told me, right?"

Harry debated lying and saying that she hadn't - it probably would have diffused things. If it came out that he knew, he could always blame it on eavesdropping on Dumbledore. Ron's anger got to him, though, especially since he had so little right to it. "Yes, she told me, Ron. Last night, before I went to bed. Funny, I might have talked to you about it, but you weren't in your bed."

Ron suddenly had a panicked look on his face, and was starting to wave at Harry. "I got up to talk to Dumbledore about something, and funny, but you weren't even in the Gryffindor dorms." He was gathering quite an audience now, but he was on a roll. He barely retained the presence of mind not to mention the Map. "You wouldn't know anything about a couple of students being in one of the Charms classrooms last night, would you?"

Ron's face was passing Gryffindor-red, on his way to Slytherin-purple. It didn't look good against his hair. Pavarti pulled back from him, apparently not ready to announce that she knew anything about the matter. Ron looked at her, barely glancing, but it was enough to make it clear to everyone watching what had happened. Then he stood, and stomped off.

Draco had worked his way near them during the commotion, always more interested in gossiping about Gryffindors than eating. "So, Mudblood, you couldn't even hold onto a Weasley? What's the matter - did you finally realize he wouldn't pay his tab?"

Harry didn't move, but he didn't have to. White hot anger coursed through him, and he felt the magical power leave him, and enter a large dish of blood pudding nearby, which quickly found it's way to Draco's head. There was an audible *smack* as the bottom of the dish hit Draco's skull, and the Slytherin folded. Harry fought himself under control, and took Hermione's hand. She was shaking, trying to control her own emotions. "Come on, Hermione. I think there's been enough entertainment here."

She stood with difficulty, and Harry guided her. He decided not to risk the dormitory; too much of a risk of running into Ron. Her sobs were too audible for the Library, as well; otherwise he would have tried that refuge. He had a thought, though, and he guided her to the Room of Requirements.

~.~.~

A crowd had gathered around the unconscious Draco Malfoy. The Professors and Headmaster pushed their way through. They looked upset, although there was a twitching at the corners of Professor McGonagall's mouth at the sight.

Severus looked at Professor McGonagall. "This is an appalling display of uncontrolled magic. I must insist that..."

"There will be no punishment." Albus pronounced, cleaning off Draco with a wave of his wand. "Poppy, if you would have a student help you get him to the Hospital Ward, I'm certain he will make a full recovery."

Poppy nodded, but Severus started to protest. "Albus, you cannot allow such violence to pass."

"Severus, it may have slipped your mind, but have you forgotten who Draco's current guardian is?" Albus' mouth twitched. "In the regrettable absence of his parents, who I believe were last seen in Bermuda fleeing from Aurors, I have been assigned that particular role. And while I do not condone the particular way that he was punished, and I believe that Mister Potter should perhaps avoid caffeinated beverages for the time being, I would be remiss in my role if I gave even the slightest encouragement to him for his actions."

Severus scowled, but let the issue drop. Minerva was looking at Albus with light in her eyes, though. Normally, Albus left disciplinary matters to the Heads of House, at least in public. In recent years, this had led many to believe that he'd abdicated all control over his students, and had let many students feel that they could get away with almost anything. Albus statements clearly bucked that trend. This was almost a reminder of the old Albus.

After Snape had left, Albus turned to her. "I believe, Minerva, that we need to talk."

She nodded. "Your office?"

He smiled. "We can leave from there."

"Leave?"

"I have decided to take a page from Mister Potter's book," was all he would say, although it was accompanied by an enigmatic smile.

Chapter Six - The Best Laid Plans...

Hermione woke up disoriented. She was seated on a plush sofa, covered in a thick comforter, but she was still fully dressed in her Hogwarts' robes. Harry sat across from her on another chair, quietly snoring. His glasses were on a nearby nightstand, and he had a thick book open on his lap.

She wasn't quite sure how Harry had managed to get her into the Room of Requirements, but she was glad that he had. The room was filled with books, soft lighting, and comfortable seats. While she appreciated the thoughtfulness of his choices, she mainly took the chance to crumble, and eventually had fallen asleep. Harry had sat next to her the whole time, holding her hand or hugging her.

She wasn't sure why Ron's betrayal had thrown her so much. After all, she'd already decided that they were through. He hadn't accepted it in so many words, though, and he hadn't known she was leaving. Because of that, their separation hadn't felt complete. Now, it certainly did.

She was thrown back to her first year, when Harry and Ron had sent her to the girl's bathroom in tears. No, that wasn't fair. Harry had tried to quiet Ron down. Ron had been the one to point out that she hadn't got any friends. She wondered which of them had been the first to rush after her when they heard about the troll. Ron had courage, but she didn't think he'd been the one. After all, Harry was the one with the hero complex.

His sleep was troubled, and she could hear him mumbling under his breath, but couldn't make out the words. She wasn't sure she wanted to eavesdrop anyway. Suddenly, he lurched forwards, holding his hand over his head.

He seemed as disoriented as she had, but he got better quickly. After a moment, he groped around for his glasses, and then looked over at her.

"Was it Trelawney?" she asked.

"No, it was just a normal nightmare," he answered. "Nothing important. How are you doing?"

"Better," she answered. "Thanks for getting me out of there."

"It was the least I could do, really. I can't believe I brought it up at the table -- I can't believe you'd ever forgive me for that."

"You could have told me earlier."

"I didn't want you to be hurt. I mean, if you and Ron are over anyways, there was no reason to make you go through all this. I should have kept my trap shut - if I'd known how Malfoy would react, I would have."

"Well, I think he got the worse end of that stick." She smirked. Ron could keep the memory of the bouncing ferret -- the look of the slick Slytherin covered in Hogwart's finest Blood Pudding was something she wanted to keep a hold of for her next Patronus.

"I suppose. I'll probably end up in detentions for that."

"I hope not. I know it's selfish of me, but I'd rather you not get any detentions at least until after the holidays."

"I'm not looking for one, believe me. So, Hermione, what are you doing tomorrow afternoon?"

"Aside from trying not to hear Pavarti gossip about the juicy details of her new boyfriend? I didn't have any other plans. All the Professors are giving me their exams early, so I can get them out of the way. It's almost a disappointment; I'm not sure what I'll do with myself."

"How about coming back here? It's warmer than outside, and we can just read and relax."

"I thought you weren't studying," she teased him.

"Well, I guess I've got a little studying I should do," he admitted. "But mainly I thought we could talk. You know, like we were doing before dinner."

Hermione smiled at the thought. "It's a deal. By the way, you didn't bring your books with you, did you? What are you reading?"

"Oh, just something I found lying around." He lifted up the book, and she could see the title. 'Hogwarts: A History'

~.~.~

Harry waited avidly for the end of his Transfigurations class. Transfigurations was normally in at least his top five subjects, but today, it seemed to be dragging on. Professor McGonagall seemed determined to cram every possible bit of knowledge into her students' heads before leaving. All Harry could think about was the afternoon.

He was about to lose one of his best friends. He knew that they'd try to owl each other, but he didn't think much of the chances of really keeping in touch. They'd faced everything Voldemort had thrown at them together, and that had been part of what had forged their friendship. Without being able to work together, he knew that they'd lose that special kinship.

McGonagall was winding down, and Harry could see that the class was just about over. Finally! She dismissed the class, and Harry grabbed his books. Before he could leave, however, he heard her sharp voice. "Mister Potter, Mister Weasley...The Headmaster wants to see you both."

Harry looked over at Ron, who he'd avoided all through class, and shrugged. Ron just looked away. Hermione smiled at Harry and waved, and walked towards the Great Hall. Ron and Harry trudged towards Dumbledore's office.

Harry made one attempt to speak. "Ron, about last night."

"Don't talk to me," Ron spoke through gritted teeth.

"Fine, be that way," Harry responded, and trudged faster.

Dumbledore's office was much the same as ever. The letters Harry had seen on his desk were missing this time, but the Pensieve was still out. "Welcome, Mister Potter, Mister Weasley. Please, sit down. This won't take long."

Harry and Ron both sat, still not looking at each other.

"Well, I can see you won't have to work very hard at the task I have in front of you," the Headmaster said, his eyes twinkling.

"What can we do for you, Headmaster?" Harry asked.

"It's a little complicated, Harry, but I'm sure you'll put the pieces together soon enough. It is absolutely critical, if this is to work, that neither of you tell anyone else about it."

"Better not tell Potter then," Ron said, pouting. "He's not got a good track record for keeping his trap shut."

"Indeed?" Albus' eyebrow lifted. "I believe I'd heard something similar about one of his friends - sometimes it can be hard to keep your tongue in your mouth."

Ron blushed scarlet, and started stammering.

"Be at peace. If the worst that you can do to each other is to tell unpleasant truths, I scarcely think Voldemort will have competition. However, as strange as it may seem, I must ask you to continue fighting."

"What?" The boys spoke in stereo.

"I would like it to become very obvious that your famous friendship is no more. In fact, I would like one of you to challenge the other to a duel, next Tuesday afternoon, in the Forbidden Forest, in the clearing near where Aragog lives."

"Are you nutters?" Ron asked.

Harry was smiling. "Will there be an audience for this duel?"

Albus nodded. "With some luck, yes. Severus has convinced Tom Riddle that he should witness the downfall of his archrival. He will be there with some of his compatriots - a small group. However, so will we, transfigured into forms that Mister Riddle will not expect or attack."

"You are nutters!" Ron shouted. "We'll all be killed."

"No we won't, Ron. The Headmaster's going to have him right where we want him." Harry said. "Voldemort's got his hands on a prophecy that says we're going to fight a duel. I'll win, but I'll get injured and die afterwards."

Ron turned pale white. "You're kidding, aren't you?"

"No, Mister Weasley, he is not. Professor Trelawney gave him this prophecy from her own lips, and he believes that it is, in fact, the only way for Harry to meet his downfall. That is why I will be there, together with about fifty Aurors, ready to bring him down."

"You'll be dressed as squirrels, then?" Ron asked, his voice odd.

Harry looked at him. "That actually makes sense. How did you know?"

"It's my homework, Harry. I handed it in a few weeks back. Voldemort thinks my homework is the prophecy."

Harry laughed. "And you didn't think you had an Inner Eye."

Albus laughed as well. "Indeed. Mister Weasley, I wonder if you've ever considered a career in Divination? I believe I may soon be in need of another Professor, as I sincerely doubt that Professor Trelawney will find the need to stay around."

Ron laughed, despite himself. "You know, I might just have to think about that. I could scarcely do worse."

Harry pictured the scene in his mind. "You know, I'm not sure if you could quite carry the outfit, but you'd be great at the actual class. You're a lot more creative than she is - if you're going to just pull predictions out of nowhere, I'm sure you'll do better."

"Thanks, mate!" Ron slugged him in the arm, and then fell silent, apparently remembering that he was angry with his friend.

Harry held out his hand to Ron. "Ron, we both went too far. I don't think it's enough to wipe out everything else we've been through, is it?"

Ron looked back, and Harry saw shadows of history sweep across his face. He could practically hear Ron's thoughts, about some of the best times in both of their lives. "No, I guess not. Friends?" He grabbed Harry's hand, shook it roughly, and dropped it.

Albus answered Ron. "Not in public, you aren't. I understand that you may find it necessary to inform Miss Granger and Miss Weasley of your situation, to avoid retribution, but I expect that you will do so only when and if necessary. If any word of this situation leaks out, we will lose a vital chance to finally defeat Tom Riddle."

The boys nodded their assent, and started to leave. Albus called out. "There is one more thing, Harry." Harry turned. "About last night. I will not punish you. But - and I am only saying this because I care - there's a lot of decaffeinated brands on the market that are just as tasty as the real thing. You may need to cut down a little, Harry."

Harry nodded, as if that made sense, and left.

~.~.~

Hermione was already in the Room of Requirements when Harry got there. He'd stopped off at the kitchens with Ron before they each went their separate ways, and he brought food with him. He had enough for Hermione, although he was fairly sure that she'd already gotten something.

Since Hermione had gotten to the room first, she'd been able to decorate it at her whim. It was different from the night before. There were the same overstuffed chairs, and still racks of books, but now there was a large chalkboard, some Quidditch posters, and a rack of Quidditch Weekly magazines.

Harry sank into a chair, and Hermione almost immediately started asking questions. "So, Harry, what did Dumbledore want? Can you say?"

"It's kind of complicated, Hermione, and I'm not supposed to tell anyone." Her face fell. "He said I could tell you, though, if I needed to."

"Well, if you can't tell me, I understand." Despite her words, she looked hurt.

"Hermione, of course I'll tell you," he took a deep breath. "It's kind of complicated, but we're going to get Voldemort."

"Harry! You're not going to do anything rash are you?"

"Perish the thought!" He put a mock innocence look on his face that was almost worthy of a Weasley. He quickly filled her in.

"So you and Ron...you're just pretending to be hacked off at each other?"

"Well, we are now. I guess."

"So last night - was that just a show? He didn't really..."

It almost killed Harry to have to crush the evident hope, but he couldn't lie to her. "No, that wasn't a show. We've agreed not to try to kill each other for real, so I guess it's a show now." He almost felt bad for making up with Ron, if Hermione was still hurt by the whole thing. "Are you alright?"

"I'm not sure. I'm sorry; I'm not very good company. Do you want to just go back to the Common Room?"

"Not unless you want me to," Harry said firmly. "I've got another year to see the Common Room - I'm sure it'll still be there later. For right now, I'm not going to go anywhere unless you are."

"You're sure, Harry?" Her voice sounded so hurt that Harry swore he'd hit the wrong git with the pudding. It would have gone well with Ron's complexion.

"Absolutely," Harry answered.

They spent another afternoon together, talking and reading. They didn't even notice when they missed dinner.

Chapter Seven - The Duel

Harry and Hermione had spent almost every waking minute together. Harry's classes were probably suffering, but he hadn't cared enough to notice. After all, there was always next term - it wasn't like they were still studying for OWLS.

The time for the duel caught them by surprise. McGonagall advised Harry that he needed to have lunch in the Great Hall on Tuesday, and he almost asked why.

Lunch was tense. Ron and Harry hadn't spoken to each other since Dumbledore's office. Neither of them was quite sure whether or not the other was still angry for real, which made the tension all the more real.

Harry noticed that Albus wasn't there. In fact, the only Professor obviously having lunch was Sprout - probably because the kind-hearted Herbologist wasn't up to offensive charms. Sprout nodded at him, though, and he realized it was time to start. Harry kicked Ron under the table.

"Hey, what'd you do that for?" the redhead snapped at him.

Harry rolled his eyes, and Ron cleared his throat. He spoke theatrically, spacing out his words. "This time...Potter, you have gone...too...far." He stood up, straightening out his robes, and jutted his chin out. Pavarti giggled at him.

Hermione leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear, "he's going to give it all away! He's supposed to be ready to kill you, not commanding the Enterprise."

Harry jumped up as well. All eyes were on them. He had to make this look good. The thought was almost funny -- he could say almost anything to Ron and excuse it as part of the show. "If you think that you can take it out on me just because you couldn't keep the smartest witch in school happy, that's your look out. We all knew it couldn't last. I mean, how many really dumb guys do you see with a really smart woman?"

Harry heard laughter and a few whistles from his cheering section, which he quickly narrowed down to most of the Gryffindor women, a few Hufflepuff girls, and every female in Ravenclaw, as well as Professor Sprout. On the other hand, most of the men didn't look all that happy, and Pavarti was looking daggers at him. She was no Hermione, but even she was bright enough to figure out how to reverse his comment and make it apply to her.

Ron hadn't said anything, though. The supposed prophecy was that he was going to challenge Harry to a duel, so Harry couldn't say it for him. Well, that just meant he'd have to try harder. Just as well, he was getting on a roll. Harry managed to insult just about everything that was Ronald Weasley except for his sexual preference, his family and his monetary situation -- he didn't want Ron to reach over the table and strangle him, he wanted him to challenge him to a duel. Finally, Ginny tenderly reached over and stomped on Ron's foot, and her glare seemed to wake him up.

"That's it Potter. I'm calling you out!"

Sprout stood up. "I'm afraid I cannot allow you to duel right now, on Hogwart's grounds. You must deal with your problems like adults."

"That's fine," Harry snapped back, fairly pleased with the job he was doing. "Ron, lets go for a walk, outside. We can talk about this there."

Ron looked bewildered. "Talk? I thought we..." Ginny stomped on his foot again, and he shut his mouth, walking out the door, with Harry right behind them. Hermione smiled as she saw Vincent Crabbe leave the table across the room and walk towards the Dungeons -- he was walking quickly, probably off to tell someone back home.

They walked in silence towards the forest, towards where they'd found Aragog years before. Harry looked around, noticing the chittering in the woods.

"Lots of squirrels out here today," Ron observed, smiling.

"You're not kidding." Harry looked over at one of the trees. "My goodness, I thought that variety was only found in Canada." He was glaring at a black squirrel, which chittered back at him.

"Probably came over with an exchange student," Ron answered. "Are you trying to out-do Hermione? Canadian Squirrels? Where did that come from?"

"I did a little research, that's all. I found a book in the Room of Requirements while I was up there with Hermione."

They were in the clearing now. Ron grabbed Harry's robe. "What do you mean, you were up there with Hermione?"

"We were just talking, you prat. I didn't want to let her go without spending some time with her."

"Just talking, my broom! I've heard that before."

"Sure you have -- and you've said it, too."

"You've been after her this whole time -- it's your fault!"

"What's my fault, Ron? That you never learned how to compromise, or that you were too busy shagging her roommate to find out she was leaving?"

Ron pointed his wand at Harry. "Rictusempra!"

Harry wasn't prepared for the spell, and doubled over, trying not to laugh, as a squirrel chittered at him nearby. He cancelled the spell on himself, and remembering that he was supposed to win, after all, decided to give it a go. "Impedimenta!"

They were off, although most of the spells were only slightly damaging. Harry was at a disadvantage, because he kept being distracted by the squirrels. There was a pair of red ones perched on a branch nearby that kept pelting him with acorns every time he got the upper hand. There was also an old gray one, with circles under its eyes, that seemed to be giving him hand signals to wait.

Finally, the gray squirrel pounced on his hand, and bit him lightly, before jumping off. Then it motioned with its paws. Harry pointed at Ron. "Petrificus Totalus!" After Ron fell to the ground, he walked over, and removed the wand.

"Aah, Mister Potter. We meet again!" The high-pitched voice that had so often caused him dread came seemingly out of nowhere. Harry couldn't feel dread right now, though. Perhaps he'd caught one too many cheering charms during the match, or maybe it was just the squirrels, but he couldn't find himself scared.

"I'm sorry," he looked down at the ground, as if searching for the source of the screeching voice. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else. I would have remembered meeting a castrated lawn-gnome."

Voldemort squealed, and threw off his Invisibility Cloak, stepping into visibility. There were three Death Eaters with him that Harry could see. "Potter, you have met your doom! Your death has been foretold, and no amount of name-calling will help."

"Oh, it's you," Harry spoke disdainfully, for just a moment looking enough like his Aunt Petunia that you could believe they were related. "I thought you'd had enough. Are you here to fight to the death again? I've only won the last four times -- you want to make go for five out of nine?"

The red squirrels were wheezing and gasping for breath up in the tree. Suddenly, one of them fell on a loyal Death Eater's head. "Aagh! It's got me! It's got me!" The Death Eater apparently took the prophecy seriously.

The other squirrel shrugged, and leapt for another Death Eater. Harry could have sworn it squealed "Bonzai!" on the way down.

Suddenly, the air was filled with falling squirrels. The gray one took Voldemort's wand away as it fell, leaving him unarmed and quite confused. Voldemort seemed almost hysterical. "Get them away from me! Away! I hate these little...tree rats!"

Harry laughed, as the gray squirrel stepped forward, turning gradually back into Dumbledore. Well, mostly back -- Albus still sported large buckteeth and a bushy tail. "Drat," he said, carefully speaking around the teeth. "Must have been a problem with the potion."

The red squirrels were rolling around hysterically, and abruptly turned back into Fred and George Weasley. "Not really a problem, Albus -- just what the Muggles would call an undisclosed feature." Harry noticed that they didn't have the buckteeth.

"You don't think this is over, do you Dumbledore?" Voldemort screeched. "You haven't won yet! I can still escape!"

Dumbledore waved his wand at Voldemort, and suddenly his clothing flew away. He was wearing only some small frilly underthings that Harry refused to look at. "I'm quite certain that you were prepared with a Portkey, Tom, but I cannot let you escape. Not quite yet..." Albus had a very nasty smile on his face, and Harry wasn't quite sure what was in store.

Albus seemed to have suddenly remembered him. "Very good, Mister Potter. Would you and Mister Weasley be kind enough to go back to the Castle?"

Harry nodded, realizing that he'd left Ron paralyzed this whole time. His eyes were the only things moving, but they somehow conveyed the whole of the Weasley temper. Perhaps now wasn't the time to face him. He grinned, "Mobilicorpus!" Ron's body floated through the air, and Harry flew him back to the castle, avoiding most of the trees in the process.

Behind him, he heard Albus turn back to Tom Riddle. "Tom, I'm very sorry to have to do this..." But Harry couldn't hear what he'd done.

~.~.~

Hermione caught up with Harry in the infirmary. Ron was rolling back and forth on the bed, screaming.

"Is he alright? He didn't get hurt, did he?" She sounded more interested than concerned.

"Oh, he's not hurt bad. It's not my fault that some of the trees had thorns." Harry didn't sound like he was that concerned, either.

Hermione laughed. "Is it really all over?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess so." Then he got a huge smile. "You know what this means, don't you? You don't have to go."

She wailed. "It's too late, Harry! Hogwarts has already committed to sending a student and a professor, and there's no way we can back out."

Harry stepped towards her. "There's got to be a way. I'll talk to Dumbledore about it...we won't let you go."

Hermione shook her head. "It's all over, Harry. You can't fix this one. I have to go." She turned and fled.

Harry heard sobs behind him, and turned to see Poppy Pomfrey crying. "I'm sorry, I just get so emotional at times like this. Excuse me..." She blew her nose loudly on Ron's bed sheet, and then ran off towards her office.

Harry decided he'd had enough, and started walking towards the Headmaster's office.

Behind him, he still heard Ron yelling. "Madam Pomfreeeee! Harry! Will someone please undo these restraints? My legs are still tied up!" Thud. "Oh, bugger. Can someone get me back on the bed? I've fallen and I can't get up."

Harry started walking faster.

Chapter Eight -- The Yule Ball

Ron had made a big deal of the fact that he was going with Pavarti to the ball, and Harry made a big deal of advising her to wear steel-toed boots if she was thinking of dancing with him, and to bring a cattle prod if she expected to have a chance at actually getting him on the floor.

That was about as much as Ron and Harry had talked since the defeat of Voldemort. He wasn't even sure what had happened to the erstwhile Dark Lord; whenever anyone brought up the subject in public, all Albus would say was that he'd been taken care of. Harry had tried to corner Albus several times to talk about it, but the Headmaster was never in his office. He couldn't find Professor McGonagall, either.

All of that would have been fine, but what was worst was that Hermione had started shutting herself up in her room to study. Harry had hoped to be able to be part of her last few days at Hogwarts, but she was applying herself with vigor to finishing up strong. He knew that what he felt now was only a shadow of what he would feel in a few days, when she was on another continent.

Harry hadn't asked her if she was going to the ball -- it was in her honor, she could hardly not go. He thought about asking her if she'd go with him, but was afraid of how she'd take it. He could have asked her if she would go with him as his friend, but he was starting to realize that he wanted more than that, and he didn't think she felt the same way. He wanted to ask her to go as his date. He was even willing to dance with her, if it came to that, although he had a feeling it would hurt her more than it hurt him -- her feet, anyway.

He came to the conclusion that he might as well ask her. Then he came to the conclusion that he shouldn't. He kept changing his mind, flip-flopping back and forth. He snuck out to Hogsmeade a few times, even picked up some flowers to give her, and a romantic gift from a curio store, but he couldn't give them to her. That just seemed too mushy, and he didn't feel they were ready for mushy. After all, he couldn't even ask her to go to the dance. The flowers ended up in Sprout's greenhouse, the gift in his chest, still nicely wrapped. Maybe he could sell it to Ron later -- he'd probably forget to get something for Pavarti at some point, although Harry wasn't sure if Ron would have chosen anything made of crystal, or even known what a poem was.

There was no shortage of women wanting to go with Harry. He was being credited with the defeat of the Dark Lord again, although he tried to share it with everyone else who was there. He was gaining new appreciation for the phrase 'beating them off with a stick,' as it seemed he had to be almost that forceful with some people. While he had to wonder if he really wanted to be refusing quite every offer, he didn't want to miss Hermione's last night at Hogwart's because he was spending the whole evening avoiding dancing with his date again. Instead, he'd decided to go stag, which seemed both strange and oddly appropriate for a Potter.

Harry entered the ball a little late. He'd gotten caught up in his room reading. Hogwarts: A History really was interesting, once you got into it. He was surprised at the reaction when he came in; there was a squeal from some of the younger girls, while a number of the older ones immediately made a rush for him.

He felt guilty for the attention, but saw that he wasn't alone. There were at least a half-dozen girls surrounding Ron, as he recounted his role in the Dark Lord's defeat. Pavarti was looking daggers at anyone who tried to touch him, but she seemed satisfied to see that there were others interested in Ron, as if it helped validate her choice.

He just shook his head, and waded through the girls towards the head table. There was a place set for Hermione there, and, he noticed, one for him as well.

"Aah, Mister Potter," Albus spoke clearly. "So glad that you could join us. While we don't want to steal any attention away from our departing friends, the faculty has requested that we consider recognizing you as well, for your deeds this last Tuesday."

Harry shrugged. "I won't fight it Professor, but I still think all of you did much more than I did. The real heroes are Professor Trelawney and Professor Snape -- I mean, Professor Snape did most of the risky stuff, and he was just brilliant at manipulating Voldemort."

Snape was looking at him incredulously. His mouth was so far open that you could fit a Bludger inside it. Minerva walked over, cackling, and he shut his mouth, and got his features under control. "Don't say it," Snape muttered, looking at her. He casually reached into a pocket and pulled out a few Galleons, which he slid into her hand, trying to avoid notice.

Hermione seemed amazed as well. "Harry, are you feeling all right?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "There's a lump in my throat that won't go away, and I've got butterflies in my stomach."

"Oh, dear," Trelawney sighed. "It's just as I'd foreseen. Rabies, already."

Dumbledore laughed. "I assure you, my dear Professor, I have had all of my shots." She looked at him, confused. "You don't think I'd let just any squirrel bite him, do you?"

There were chuckles all around, which was taken as an excuse by all to break up the conversation. Harry sat down next to Hermione. She stood up. "I've got to make the rounds," she said apologetically. "I probably won't get a chance tomorrow, we've got to take the Hogwart's Express to London at dawn. They've already had all the speeches, so I don't really need to hang around for anything."

"Wait, Hermione, can't we talk?"

Hermione hesitated. She looked like there was something she didn't want to say. "I'm sorry, Harry. I think we should just say good-bye now." She leaned over, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

He was caught completely off-guard. "I thought I could say good-bye in the morning."

She shook her head, and he thought he could see tears in her eyes. "I can't. It's just too hard to say goodbye to friends and then walk out the door. I just can't bear it. Take care, will you Harry? And write, please!"

"I will," Harry promised, and then she was gone. He saw her go over to Ron and talk to him, and then say a few words to others on her way out of the Hall.

Albus moved closer to Harry. "It is hard to watch a friend go, is it not?" He sounded fatigued.

Harry nodded his head. "Yes, Headmaster it is. How are you holding up? I mean, losing McGonagall and all. Have you hired a replacement yet?"

"Alas, I have not. I am considering making Firenze the new Head of Gryffindor in the interim, but I have been rather preoccupied these last few weeks. In a way, I have you to thank for that."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. I saw you and Miss Granger out by the lake, and I must confess, I thought it was a most delightful idea. Stealing that last few moments while you could was inspiring. Minerva and I have had a few picnics of our own, since then."

"That's great, Headmaster." Harry had to ask. "You and Professor McGonagall...were you ever..."

"Harry, I may have mentioned that there are some truths that are dangerous? This is one of them." Albus seemed to consider that an adequate answer, and Harry guessed that maybe it was. After all, he could have just said no.

After a moment of silence, the Headmaster spoke again. "Harry, there are also some truths that are dangerous to leave unsaid. While I realize that you are accustomed to danger, there is no reason to seek it. I wonder, have you really said your farewells to Miss Granger?"

"She's said them to me." Harry replied. He said his own good nights, and walked back to his room, feeling crushed. Ron didn't even seem to notice, as he continued regaling women with stories of his fight with Lord Voldemort.

Back in his room, Harry opened his trunk to get his pajamas. The gift he'd gotten for Hermione was on top, as was his copy of Hogwarts: A History. Harry pulled out the gift, staring at the red and gold wrapping paper. What did he have to lose? If she didn't like it, or if it embarrassed her, what would it hurt? At least he wouldn't hear Albus' words echoing in his head. He wasn't sure how he could get it to her, though, since he didn't really want to owl it to her after she was all settled in. That just seemed wrong, somehow.

Settling his eyes on a mismatched pair of socks in his trunk, he had an idea. Maybe he could ask one of his friends to help out.

Chapter Nine -- The Hogwarts' Express

Hermione's eyes were red, and she was grateful that she could blame it on lack of sleep. They had woken before dawn to get down to the train. The house-elves had been kind enough to deliver both her trunk and McGonagall's down to the express, along with a packed lunch for each of them for the train.

She caught Dobby looking at her from the window of the station, and waved good-bye to him. He looked alarmed at something -- he was beating his head against the wall. She almost giggled at the sight; it was definitely how she would remember him.

McGonagall was strangely silent as they boarded. Hermione was grateful for the silence. She realized how incongruous it was, the two of them sitting silently on the train, staring out the window, not even a book in sight.

A few hours into the journey, Hermione finally decided to pull out her lunch. It was in a large metal lunch box with her name on it. All of her favorites were inside, even a piece of pumpkin pie. At the bottom was a pair of tartan socks, balled up. Probably a gift from Dobby, she thought, and she left them in the box.

McGonagall pulled herself away from her view of the window, and pulled open the lunch box. She pulled out a small can of prune juice and a grilled tuna sandwich, and then something wrapped in red and gold paper.

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not sure." McGonagall looked at it dubiously.

"Are you going to open it?"

McGonagall sighed. "I suppose." She slipped her fingers delicately under the paper, and opened the package carefully. Inside the paper was a brown box, filled with white tissue paper, which surrounded something small and delicate. It was a translucent crystal paperweight, bordered by delicate crystal roses. There was writing on it, which Hermione couldn't quite see. McGonagall put her hand to her lips. "Oh, my." She was crying.

Hermione leaned over to look at the writing. It was a small, flowery script, etched right into the crystal. "The Definition of Love, by Andrew Marvell," she read. McGonagall handed it to her, gingerly, and Hermione took it. She read through it quickly, but focused on a few lines:

"For Fate with jealous eye does see

Two perfect loves; nor lets them close."

She felt tears in her own eyes at this. She didn't know what perfect love was, but wished she could have had the chance to find out. She had a feeling that she had missed a chance for it. She didn't think that Harry felt the same way, but she would never know. If she hadn't been so afraid, she might have been able to find out before going. He could have visited her over the holidays, maybe even arranged a transfer for himself. Did he care? She might never know.

McGonagall suddenly stood up brusquely, placing her lunch on the seat. "Miss Granger, I need to return to Hogwarts'. I hope you don't mind."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't mind at all. Was it Albus?"

McGonagall nodded. "It must have been, but I've never seen him do something so romantic. Even when we were together, he never would have done anything like this. His gifts were always...clothing."

Hermione blushed at that revelation, but McGonagall didn't seem to even realize what she had confirmed. Clothing? Hermione had some ideas of what that might mean, and picturing McGonagall in the type of clothing that she was likely to receive from her boyfriend...she really didn't want to complete that thought. The Professor seemed to be moving in a cloud as she entered the hallway, moving towards the front of the train.

Hermione just waited in her seat, thinking. She couldn't ask McGonagall not to return to Albus, not after something like that. She wondered if she would ever have someone care enough to give her something so unapologetically romantic with no reason to expect anything in return. She hoped she would; if it ever happened, she would never let them go.

The train pulled back into Hogsmeade station several hours later. McGonagall and Hermione had talked the whole time. McGonagall reminisced freely about her days with Albus, while Hermione lectured her on the life and times of Andrew Marvell. McGonagall had never cared much for English poetry, at least not the stuff that Muggles wrote, so Hermione had free range to talk about the topic. She didn't think the Professor was listening, but they were both too emotional to just sit in silence.

When they returned to the station, it was no longer empty. They had been about to rise to get off, but instead just stared at their welcoming committee, who was cheering for their return. Hermione saw that most of the Gryffindors were there, along with much of the faculty. Albus stood on the platform, his floppy hat stuck through his belt, with a bunch of flowers in his hands. As the train stopped, he walked on board immediately and out of their view. A moment later, there was a knock on the compartment door.

Hermione opened it quickly. "Hullo, Headmaster."

"Hello, Miss Granger. If you would excuse us for a few moments, I believe that Professor McGonagall and I should talk."

Hermione nodded, and swiftly escaped the compartment. She wanted to know that McGonagall and Dumbledore had made up, but she didn't really want to witness it.

Running to the door, she saw that Harry had managed to be right behind the Headmaster. He looked nervous. His right hand was behind his back, and he wouldn't meet her eyes. "Hello, Hermione," he stammered out.

"Harry...it's almost too painful to see you again."

"I know what you mean. Here." His hand came out from behind his back, and Hermione was astounded to see that it, too, was filled with flowers.

"Harry, I can't take these."

"I know you can't stay, Hermione. I just didn't want you to leave without me telling you how I felt. Not again."

Albus elbowed his way through the crowd, and Hermione noted with some detachment that he was holding Professor McGonagall's hand, and that he seemed to have a smudge of lipstick on his collar. "We may be able to avoid that necessity, Mister Potter. I have an idea." He held the crystal paperweight in his hand, and he seemed to be handing it back to Harry. "I also believe that there has been a misunderstanding, and although I cannot argue with the results, it appears that Professor McGonagall received this in place of the socks that I had given her. Dobby was most distraught; would you know who this item was supposed to belong to?"

Epilogue

The classroom was filled with incense, which wasn't that unusual for Billabong. It was fairly unusual in a beginning Animal Charms classroom, however. The instructor was writing her name slowly on the chalkboard, and her voice seemed to be quavering with nerves. "Good afternoon, class. It is such a pleasure to be here," she said, but there was no pleasure evident in her voice. "My name is Sybill Trelawney, and I'm from Hogwart's school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in the UK." She droned on.

One of the Aussies bent over to the boy in the next seat. "You're from Hogwarts, aren't you? Did you have her there, mate?"

The boy, a blond, sneered back. "I am not your mate." He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I had the old bat there, too. I never saw her teach anything there, so I'm not sure what she'll do here."

"Why'd she come here, then?"

Draco shrugged. "The Headmaster said he didn't need her anymore -- he had been keeping her on until it was safe to let her off-campus."

"What's your story? Why did you come?"

Draco whispered back. "Hogwarts had promised Billabong a student -- and my guardian had the bright idea to send me."

~.~.~

Tom Riddle worked eagerly at the caldron. He felt grateful to the House-Elves for letting him help them out; they'd been so kind to take him in. The man he'd talked to, Albie something, seemed so nice. He'd promised that, if anything could be done to help with Tom's amnesia, it would be done. In the meantime, he was warned to stay down with the House-Elves, away from the students. Accidents could happen out there, he was told, and he believed Albie.

He kept stirring the caldron, which was filled with laundry. He squinted, and read the purple embroidery on something lacy and green. "Pansy," it said. Whistling, Tom reached into the caldron and snatched it, putting it in his pocket. Tom couldn't imagine a better job than this one, and he felt so grateful to Albie that he almost felt like singing.

Mercifully, he found the strength to resist.

~.~.~

Harry felt uncomfortable. He slipped a finger between his neck and the tie, and hoped his fidgeting didn't embarrass Hermione too much. He had enough trouble keeping still when he was wearing Hogwart's robes, but his new Muggle suit seemed like it was designed as some kind of torture device. Hermione had helped him pick it out, though, so he wasn't going to talk ill of it no matter what it did to him. It was strange what you could accept if you were with someone you really cared about.

Hermione wasn't moving. She was staring up at the stage, smiling at her father, who was accepting an award for his accomplishments in dentistry. Harry had trouble focusing his attention on Mr. Granger, he just kept looking over at her, and taking his cue from her on when to clap appreciatively.

Mrs. Granger hadn't missed the signs between the two of them, and so far, it seemed like she approved. Harry had overheard her talking with Hermione earlier in the week, and thinking about it made him blush. "Now, Hermione," her mother had said, "I didn't know Ron well enough to know whether he was right for you, and I don't know Harry well enough either. All I know is that the two of you seem to be able to agree on most things without arguing and without having to make a major production of it. Your new young man seems to actually want you to be happy, and that's more than most people can say about the people in their life. You're so young to be this involved... but I suppose neither of you have really been young for some time."

Hermione was clapping now, and the speech was over. Harry clapped along with her, trying to match her enthusiasm. He didn't notice the way Mrs. Granger was smiling at him from across the table, or the look of approval that Mr. Granger gave him as he returned to the table. He also didn't notice the smiling looks from the older couples around the auditorium, the people who had been where he was, with a heart full of just one person, and no other care in the world.

A/N -- Andrew Marvell's The Definition of Love is in the public domain (due to its date of publication in the 1600s), and is commonly available on the Internet. I'll refrain from quoting it all here, however. Marvell is also known for a literary response to Paradise Lost, which was published in the second edition back in 1674.