Chapter Twelve
DEFENSE ESSAYS
"Okay, I give up. I'm done with this. Take it away from me right now and don't let me near it until at least tomorrow." Hermione shoved her Defense Against the Dark Arts book away from her so quickly that you would have thought it was contaminated. Harry and Ron, who were sitting on either side of her, looked up from their own work with a start.
"Dare I trust my ears?" said Ron incredulously. "Did I just hear Hermione Granger give up on... studying?" He said the last word in a low, ominous tone. "Words fail me."
"Then why are you still jabbering?" said Harry, tossing his quill at Ron like a dart as he snatched Hermione's schoolbook away from her. He gave her a warm smile. "I think we could all use a break."
"Food is always good," said Ron, gathering his own things in a messy pile and handing Harry back the quill. "My vote is for food."
"Your vote is always for food," said Hermione. Now that it had been taken away from her, she kept eyeing her single textbook piled into Harry's stack. Catching her eye, Harry quickly took the book from the rest and dropped it into his bag.
"You said it yourself that you were done with it," said Harry with a shrug. "If you'll actually take a break with us, I might let you have it back before tomorrow."
"Perhaps," said Hermione with a sigh. Her plans to not study that afternoon had been broke with the discovery that the pieces of Malfoy's wand were gone. Despite Harry and Ron's urges to go straight to Dumbledore with the news, she insisted that it wasn't any cause for alarm and that they go on with their daily business. "Oh, all right."
"Food?" said Ron immediately, a hopeful look on his face. Harry shook his head as he hopped out of his chair and gently grabbed Hermione's wrists to drag her from her own seat. "Wait, are you still on your house-elf vendetta, Hermione?"
"Hmm?" muttered Hermione. A look of understanding flashed across her face. "It was never a `vendetta!' I'm sorry I take concern on the behalf of those unable to help themselves... but no, I haven't worked on S.P.E.W. all year." Harry smirked when he noticed the tinge of red that rose to her cheeks.
"See?" said Harry, nudging Ron in the side as he let loose a sigh of relief. "You didn't have to insist on excluding her every time we went to the kitchens this year." His eyes found Hermione's. "You wouldn't believe how often it's been this year. There were a few weeks in January when we were down there so regularly that the elves had it prepared before we even got there!"
Hermione laughed as they scrambled through the portrait hole, but Harry knew full well that it wasn't normal. A certain twinkle lit her eyes when she really laughed, and that sparkle hadn't come. Ron was already ahead of them, and Harry caught her arm as they passed the Fat Lady.
"Hey, everything still okay?" whispered Harry, trying to sound casual. "No offense, but it's not like you to actually want to stop studying."
"It's-just fine," said Hermione, but she didn't meet his eye. However, she did lean her head against his shoulder for a brief moment before gesturing towards Ron. "Do you think he even notices we're half the hallway behind him?"
"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "Do you want something to eat?"
"I'm not hungry, if that's what you mean," said Hermione. "I figured I could come along, though."
Harry stopped. "Hey Ron!" he called, and his friend stopped a good thirty paces ahead, looking surprised to see them so far away. "'Mione and I aren't really hungry. Do you just want to meet us back in Gryffindor in a few minutes?"
"Sure thing!" said Ron, charging towards the kitchen once more. "Prefect common room!"
"Is that okay with you?" said Harry, still holding her arm as they walked back to the Fat Lady.
"I'll be fine," said Hermione softly. "Nothing can happen with the two of you around, and I can't just avoid it forever."
"It wouldn't be forever," said Harry. "I just don't want you doing anything you're not ready for."
"Laughing warts," said Hermione to the Fat Lady. "I'll be fine, Harry. I already am."
Harry had trouble believing her, and he shook his head as he filed through the portrait hole behind her. He didn't feel like it was his place to say something. From behind them, the Fat Lady began to hum a tune about a lover's quarrel. Harry was grateful that Hermione was in front of him at the moment and couldn't catch his blush.
"Of course you are," muttered Harry. The farther they went up the stairs to the prefect's room, the paler Hermione's face got. As much as he wished she'd just admit how uneasy she had to be, he chose to touch her arm reassuringly instead of calling her on it.
"See? I'm just fine," said Hermione nervously a few moments later as the two of them entered the little room. It had been righted and straightened and cleaned sometime during the last few days, and the stench of the gray-black smoke had finally disappeared.
Harry couldn't help it. "You don't look it," he blurted. Immediately, he cringed internally and rushed on with an apology. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm just so worried about you..."
Before he realized what was happening, Hermione had flung her arms around him, in tears. He wrapped his arms around her, and the only thing he could do was gently guide her over to the couch. "It'll be okay, Hermione," said Harry softly, still holding her and crossing his fingers behind her back and hoping that it wasn't something he'd done.
"I'm an absolute mess," whispered Hermione miserably. She pushed herself away from Harry, drawing her legs close to her body and wrapping her arms around them. She looked at him, the defeated look back in her eyes. "I think I've said this before, haven't I? This year-this whole year-I just don't know what's gotten into me... I must just take everything too personally..."
"What are you taking personally?" asked Harry, bewildered.
"Everything," said Hermione softly, waving her hand in no specific direction. "When I'm not with you, I start thinking and burst into tears. And I haven't been able to sleep in days... I wake up screaming or crying, and even Ginny's starting to think I'm going crazy; the other girls believe I already have..."
"You're not going crazy," insisted Harry, reaching over to touch her arm. To his surprised, she recoiled at his touch, and the bewildered look returned to his face.
"I've always prided myself for being level-headed," admitted Hermione, a blush rising to her cheeks, "but I don't feel I've an ounce of reason left now! Oh Harry, it's dreadful-I make a big deal out of everything now, everything bothers me, and I'm so scared all the time-"
"Hermione," said Harry sternly, catching her upper arms and holding her firmly. He forced her to look him in the eye, praying he wasn't scaring her any more. "Hermione, you were raped," he said softly. "You nearly died. You'd be crazy if you weren't scared!"
"B-but only the bravest are supposed to be in Gryffindor," stammered Hermione. "I'm not brave, Harry, I shouldn't be here..."
"You are too," said Harry. "You're one of the bravest people I know, `Mione. It takes a lot of courage to live through everything you have over this school year alone."
"Still," whimpered Hermione, "I'm not showing it at the moment. I just can't take it at the moment. I had enough on my mind with classes and O.W.L.s, and now I just can't stop thinking about..."
She trailed off, and she finally allowed Harry to touch her once more. She sobbed into his shoulder every moment. Harry didn't know what to do, but something told him that just being there was the most, and the best, he could do for her at the moment. His cheek brushed against her hair, and he had to smile at the slight scent of amberlily flowers coming from her hair. "Do you want to talk about it?" said Harry hesitantly.
"Hello!" exclaimed Ron as the door burst open suddenly. "A whole chocolate cake for us, Harry, and some fruit and stuff for Hermione because she still eats like her parents are sitting around watching her dental hygiene-wait, what's wrong? Are you okay Hermione?"
Harry gestured for him to be quiet and sit down as Hermione released him. Surrounded by her two best friends, Hermione told about the painful dreams forcing her to relive what had happened in the forest. Before long, Harry had clutched one of her hands out of habit, and, to his surprise, Ron had put his arm around her shoulder.
"I'm sorry to be dumping all this on you," said Hermione through the last of her tears. "I really thought I'd be okay today, but then I got an owl for my parents... and well, I've been trying to keep from losing it ever since..."
"You got a letter from your parents?" questioned Ron. He and Harry shared a confused glance from over he head.
"An owl," repeated Hermione, shaking her head nervously. She let go of Harry's hand and drew something out of her pocket, which she handed the boys to read. "Dumbledore sent them a message saying that while I'd disappeared from the castle and followed it with the news that you'd found me..."
Dearest Hermione,
We've received news of the latest events from your headmaster. Your father and I truly believe it to be a warning. Perhaps it would be in your best interest not to return after this term, dear. We hope you'll return to us at Easter. Do you feel competent enough to start immediately at the local school?
We'll discuss this further when you return home, sweetie. Your father and I send our best, and I'm sure Angelica would if she had a grasp on words.
See you soon,
Mum
"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ron, blushing wildly when he realized he'd forgotten to watch his mouth. He did his best to ignore Hermione's disapproving glare. "Well, it is! A Muggle school? `Mione, you were made to be a witch! They can't do this!"
"No, they can't," agreed Harry. Suddenly, he went very pale. "Wait, you don't want to leave, do you? Because if you did, Ron and I don't have the right to force you to-"
"I don't want to leave," interrupted Hermione, "and that's why I'm so upset. They've been having doubts since this summer-" she glanced quickly to Harry, "-but now I think they're serious. Oh, I can't leave, not even now! I don't know what I would do without the two of you!"
"Well, I'll tell you what you will do," said Ron, still looking at the letter angrily. "You'll just owl your parents back telling them you'll do not such thing," he looked at her, then added, "and that they're crazy for even suggesting it."
"Ron's right," said Harry, "with the exception of the crazy part. You've always said you and your parents get along fairly well most of the time. You're a good writer, Hermione. I doubt you'll have any trouble convincing them."
She was already wiping the tears from her eyes, nodding. Hermione didn't seem completely sure of the idea, but she didn't look nearly as pale. She hugged both of her friends, Ron first, and then Harry.
"Thank you," said Hermione, and Harry's face nearly broke into a grin, and he caught Ron's eye. He'd seen it, too.
The determined look Hermione always carried was back.
* * *
"Come on, Harry, she'll be down in a few minutes," said Ron, tugging on Harry's arm. Hermione had gone up to her room about an hour and a half before dinner to rest, and she hadn't come back down yet. Ron's stomach was rumbling audibly, and Harry gave in.
"I'm coming," muttered Harry as he scrambled through the portrait hole behind Ron.
"I know," said Ron, "but I also know how worried you are about Hermione."
"How'd you guess?" said Harry sarcastically, but Ron chose to ignore it.
"I don't like letting her out of my sight, either," said Ron in a low whisper, "and I don't tend to worry nearly as much as you. I just worry she's going to-"
"Disappear again?" finished Harry. He sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. "I'm worried about her, Ron. I know she was looking more like herself earlier, but it's not the same..."
"It will be, someday," said Ron hopefully as they entered the Great Hall. Other than a handful of Hufflepuffs, they were the first to arrive.
"I know," said Harry grimly, "but I also know it's going to take a long time. I mean, not that I know a lot about girls that-"
"It will," interrupted Ron, sitting down at their usual spot at the Gryffindor table. He shook his head. "Say what you want, but I know how much you care about her, Harry."
"I never denied that," said Harry, looking down at his empty plate. "I think she'll be okay, and for that, I'm thankful. Now, I'd kind of like to get my hands on whoever did this to her..."
"Same," said Ron, cracking his knuckles. "My intention is to make him one sorry bloke by the time we're done with him."
"I was thinking, if anyone deserves Azkaban, it's him," said Harry bitterly. He added, "I'd like the dementors to make the same mess of his mind that he's made of Hermione's."
Ron let out a low whistle. "This is kind of sick," he admitted, busying his thumbs with his fork, "but it's hard not to want him to suffer."
"Yeah," said Harry nodding in agreement. More students were pouring into the Great Hall now, and the teachers were also starting to take their places at the table. He glanced at Dumbledore, who was talking with Professor McGonagall. "I hope that Dumbledore figures out who's behind this soon."
Ron looked at him strangely. Suddenly, a flash of recognition flashed across his face. "Harry," he said slowly, "I thought you knew, even though you weren't at the feast after everyone reappeared."
"You thought I knew what?"
"Er, well," stammered Ron, "Dumbledore announced that the attention would go towards making sure the victims were okay instead of figuring out who was responsible. He says there's no way that they'll be another attack and that it wouldn't help anything to find the person."
"He said what?" exclaimed Harry, catching sight of Hermione entering the hall. His blood began to boil.
* * *
It wasn't until one afternoon during the second to last week of March that the sun began poking through the clouds to melt the snow. The staff was quick to label it as the longest winter in Hogwarts history, and the students started looking forward to spring Quidditch matches, despite increased talk about assignments and tests and even final exams from their professors. It was hard not to be optimistic about the return of spring, and even harder to pay attention during class with the Hogwarts grounds uncovered once again outside.
"All right everyone," said Professor Lupin at the start of class one morning that week, "I know this is the last place you want to be today, and there's nothing I can do to change that. However, I think you'll like our lesson today, even though I'm dreading it." He shuddered as the words came from his mouth. "Professor Dumbledore has asked me to incorporate dueling in my lesson plans once again."
"NO!"
Everyone turned around to see Dean Thomas looking a bit embarrassed. "I mean," he said quickly, and he lost the last bit of composure. "I mean no! I have my reasons... like wanting to stay male!"
"Er, of course, Mr. Thomas," said Lupin, shaking his head. "I don't like the idea any more than you do. However, we'll worry about that in a moment. I'd like to address another worry first, one you should all have as fifth year students. Obviously, that concern is for your rapidly approaching O.W.L.s."
Several groans came from different locations in the classroom, but there were also a fair share of nervous laughs and an equal amount of worried expressions. Professor Lupin chuckled. "They really aren't that bad," said Professor Lupin. "I took them myself once, and I was just as stressed and worried as you all are at the moment. The only advice I can give you is to try and not stress-if there's something you don't know at the moment, you won't have that knowledge for the test. Yes, the tests have to do with what you've learned, but the real gist of the exams are to test what's inside of you."
Harry wasn't paying as much attention to Lupin as he should have been. Instead, he was alternating his gaze in three different directions: an equally concerned Ron, Hermione's empty seat, and the classroom door. She hadn't been at breakfast, but Ginny had assured them Hermione had only overslept and would be down before the start of classes. Ron and Harry had been even more concerned with that message. Hermione didn't oversleep. And she wasn't late for class.
Until today. Harry's eyes darted back to the door as Lupin continued on with the memories of his own O.W.L.s. He had finally managed to elicit a laugh from the class with one of his attempts at humor when the door finally creaked open. Sure enough, Hermione slipped in. She didn't look well, and she didn't even say anything or make apologies as she sat down in her seat between Ron and Harry.
Professor Lupin raised an eyebrow at her, but he didn't miss a beat. "Five points from Gryffindor for your lateness, Miss Granger," he said and went right back into his memories, punctuating them with slips of information about this year's exams. Harry missed every one of them.
Hermione really did look awful. Her long, usually bushy hair had been pulled up into a ponytail-bun-mess that Harry couldn't identify by any one name. He'd only seen her with it up once before, at the Yule Ball the year before, and this particular style had the opposite affect-instead of making her appear three years older, she looked at least that many younger. Her face was splotched with red, and she'd forgotten to pin her Prefect badge onto her robes.
Oversleeping usually implied that one got more sleep than usual, but Hermione's arms and head dropped to the desk less than ten minutes after she arrived. A sharp kick to the feet of her chair from Ron's direction changed that, but that was all. He sent a helpless, confused look over her head to Harry.
"-but that's enough about the past," said Lupin, beginning to pace the front of the room, "for we're here, in the present, to be concerned with the future. A new requirement has been added to your Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. You will each be writing an essay about a different aspect of Dark Magic."
"What aspect?" called someone from the middle of the classroom.
"I shouldn't know," said Lupin. "I've been given many different topics to assign. It seems that, to assure each of you does your own research and work, you'll each be given a distinct topic. Since they are all unique, I feel the fairest way to assign them is..."
He disappeared behind his desk, pulling out a very familiar, very battered hat. It was none other than the Hogwarts sorting hat. "Dumbledore has lent me this for the day," said Lupin as he smiled at the hat. "He seems to think it might be as good at assigning essay topics as it is for assigning houses. If it is, I'll give this old hat even more credit."
One at time, Lupin called up students to put the hat on for the second time in their Hogwarts careers. Just as in the actually Sorting, the hat sometimes took a great amount of time to make its decision. Neville was the first to go, looking extremely nervous as the great hat fell on his round head. Harry managed to pull his thoughts from Hermione for long enough to wonder how the topics would be assigned.
"MERNABIN BESHALLS, THE FIRST AUROR!" bellowed the hat a few seconds later. Lupin was standing by with a roll of parchment to record what each student was to write about. Lavender was next, and she received an eighteenth century group of destructive witches, followed by Seamus, who was ordered to write an essay on Bogarts. Dean and several other boys went before, much to Harry's relief, a shy, tiny girl was ordered to write on dementors. Finally, Lupin had worked his way down one side of the classroom and back up the other. It was Ron's turn.
Harry watched Professor Lupin plop the hat down on top of Ron's red hair, and a few seconds later, Ron began to scowl as the hat talked to him. Finally, it screamed, "BELWIT CURSE!"
A few students laughed, but Harry wasn't one of them. He, instead, waited for Lupin to gesture at Hermione to go next. He was surprised when the professor skipped over her and pointed to him. Now that it was actually his turn, he was more than a bit nervous. He glanced back to Ron and Hermione, expecting to see Hermione looking confused about being skipped over, but she looked like she hadn't even noticed.
"Hmm," said a little voice into Harry's left ear. "You know, I was a bit surprised when Dumbledore asked me to do the job, too. I do think about more than the school houses, though, so I should just be glad they're finally realizing it! Oh dear, you're going to be a difficult one to place... I only have so many topics left to assign-this is very interesting..."
Harry realized that the seconds were ticking by. "It's a shame that that's not a part of the Dark Magic because it's obviously on your mind. Well, if it can't be that, then I guess it'll have to be one of the two things left... THE DARK SCAR!"
As he pulled the hat off his head and handed it back to Professor Lupin, he watched Hermione's face go even more ashen than it was already. This time, Lupin did gesture for her to come sit. She did, and the hat sat longer on her head than on anyone else's.
Finally, it spoke, but not with the booming force it usually managed, "Affinity of Relations!"
"Er, that's the end," said Professor Lupin, hastily writing down Hermione's topic on his scroll. He cleared his throat. "I was really wondering what topics you would receive towards the end. All my other classes-the other houses-have had their topics assigned, and anything obvious I had thought about had been used, but... onward."
Lupin had started muttering as he turned to face the board. With a few strokes of his wand, words began to form on the board. Harry got out his quill and parchment, as it was obvious that they needed to copy the information. He brushed against Hermione's arm as he bent down, and offered her a sweet smile. She returned it, but it seemed both forced and painful.
"Now, once you've copied down the essay requirements from the board," said Lupin with a sigh, "we will continue on with today's agenda. Now, I want to apologize in advance for any harm that might be done in the next hour, and I also remind you that it was not my decision to teach you dueling..."
* * *
As soon as they realized Hermione had skipped out on lunch, Harry and Ron made the decision to skip out as well. A little voice in Harry's head reminded him of what happened the last time he and Hermione had skipped lunch, but he pushed it out. He didn't really care if he got in trouble if it meant Hermione was okay.
"Think she went back to Gryffindor?" asked Ron as they ducked down a corridor to avoid Filch catching them for wandering around. A few seconds later, the grumpy caretaker had passed.
"I don't know where else she would be," said Harry. Ron walked back out into the main hallways, Harry right behind him.
"Good point," said Ron. "I don't think I've ever seen Hermione look that-"
"What is this?" barked Filch, suddenly appearing again. Harry managed to scurry around the corner before he saw him, but Ron wasn't fast enough. He shot Harry a desperate look from the corner of his eye. "A student wandering the halls during lunch? Why Mr. Weasley, you should know we don't stand for that here at Hogwarts! Come with me!"
Ron gave Harry one final glance as Filch dragged him the direction of his office. Harry felt a pang of sympathy for his friend, but he couldn't help but feel thankful that it wasn't him. He walked quickly in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.
"Laughing warts," said Harry to the Fat Lady at the entrance to the tower. She gave him a disapproving look and a shake of the head, but she let him in nonetheless. A look around the common room was enough to tell him that Hermione wasn't there, and she wasn't in the prefect common room either. Finally, summoning up a bit of courage, he pushed open the door leading into the girls' dormitories and tried to remember where Hermione's room was. He knocked softly on the door before pushing it open.
"Herms?" he said nervously.
"If you're going to give me a nickname, I prefer `Mione," said Hermione in a muffled tone. Harry crossed the room, and, sure enough, found her sitting on her bed, curtains closed. He pushed back the hangings and sat down next to her.
"You're not okay," he said softly. He didn't need to ask this time.
Hermione started to shake her head, but she stopped and nodded. Fresh tears were forming in her eyes.
"Had a rough day?"
She nodded again, drawing her knees even closer to her body.
"Do you want to talk about it?" pressed Harry.
Hermione shook her head, looking away and resting her cheek against her knee. "I'm fine," she said in a small voice.
This time, it was Harry that shook his head. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she edged away from him. "I'm not going to hurt you, `Mione," he said gently. "I'm just worried about you. Has something else happened?"
"No," said Hermione finally. "It's nothing, Harry."
"I know you better then that," said Harry, reaching out again. This time, she didn't recoil at his touch. "You know, I know you think you're dumping on me if you admit you're having a bad day or that you're stressed about something, but you aren't."
"You're just saying that to make me feel better," said Hermione.
Harry shook his head. "No, I'm not," he insisted. "Now what's wrong?"
"I just couldn't sleep last night," said Hermione, stretching out her legs, "and-well, just the same old worries. It made for the third night in a row I couldn't sleep, and I think it was starting to get to me. I'll be fine..."
"But?" said Harry, catching how her voice was trailing off.
"Am I ever just going to be able to forget?" she asked quietly. Harry stopped rubbing her shoulder, instead taking her hand and lacing his fingers with hers. He kept his eyes focused on that connection for a long time.
"You're strong," he said finally. "You'll get through this."
"I don't know," said Hermione somberly. "I don't know what to do, Harry. I spend all the time I can studying, and I feel like I should be doing more. I spend time with you and Ron, but it never feels like enough. I try to sleep, and I hate myself for getting caught up in my thoughts when I can't. I think I'm losing it."
"You aren't losing it," said Harry, touching her cheek gently. A tear started to drip down it again, and he wiped it away. "You've got a lot going on right now, and I don't blame you for being stressed and upset. Ron and I are stressed, too, so I can't even imagine what you feel like."
"I had that dream again," said Hermione suddenly, "the one where I lose both of you. What if I really am setting the two of you up? What if something happens to you on the account of me? I don't want-"
"Shh," interrupted Harry. "Nothing's going to happen to us, I promise."
"Promise?"
"I promise," said Harry, "that nothing's going to happen to me. If Filch hadn't caught Ron on our way up here, he'd be promising right now, too."
Hermione smiled slightly, and Harry put his arm across her shoulder. She rested her head against him. "You guys didn't have to do that," she said finally. "I really can take care of myself."
"I know you can," said Harry, "but we want to."
"I don't know why," said Hermione softly, looking away again.
"Because I love you," blurted Harry without thinking. He quickly added, "You know you're my best friend, Hermione..."
Suddenly, the door to her room burst open, and Ron stumbled in, looking very pale. Someone was poking him along.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Weasley!" someone declared. "Merlin, just go! I just need to talk to you! Now get in there so I can do it once instead of three times!"
Harry and Hermione grew as pale as Ron when that someone walked in and shut the door firmly behind him. Draco Malfoy was standing in the middle of Hermione's dorm room.
* * *
Harry had an inherent mistrust of anyone Slytherin, and that mistrust just intensified in the cast of Draco Malfoy. He was on his feet immediately, his wand in hand. Just the hour before, Harry had gone soft in class as they practiced dueling. He wasn't about to unleash anything on Hermione when she looked like that, but he wasn't about to make any exceptions for Malfoy.
To his surprise, Malfoy didn't make a reach for his own wand. "Fine, use your wand, Potter," he said, "but I'm not here to fight."
"Then what are you here for?" demanded Ron. Malfoy had stopped poking him along, and Ron was standing on his other side. He, too, had pulled out his wand. Malfoy took a cautious step back, and Harry got his first real look at his condition.
If it wasn't for his pale, pointed face and blonde hair, this Malfoy would barely be recognizable for the same boy that Harry had met for the first time in a robes shop, tormented them so endlessly on the Hogwarts Express, commented so often on Ron's family, and brought about one of Hermione's most painful experiences. Even then, his pale face was hard to distinguish behind the dirt and gash on his cheek. His robes were graying with grime, and one of the sleeves hung freely. A closer inspection revealed that the arm was pinned to his chest in a makeshift sling. Harry almost lowered his wand.
Almost. The thought to do so had been blocked by a memory from many months before. A tortured scream of pain from one of the people he cared about most wasn't easily forgotten. Harry was glaring at Malfoy so intently that he barely noticed Hermione had taken a stand next to him. He reached over and touched her arm. He would have much rather pushed her back all together because he didn't know what Malfoy was planning, but he also remembered her stating that she was capable of taking care of herself.
"I like the three of you even less than you like me," said Malfoy, but whatever confidence he had when entering the room had gone, "yet my wand is still in my pocket. That's my decision; you've made yours. I just had some information I felt compelled to share with you-"
"You're not supposed to be here at all!" cried Hermione. Harry could tell she had tightened her grip on her wand. "You're not supposed to be on Hogwarts grounds, let alone in the school... in my room!"
"Potter's not supposed to be in your room either," sneered Malfoy, "and he's been here every time I have! Maybe you make an exception for boys you're-"
He was interrupted again, this time by two different spells from two different wands. Hermione let loose a startled whimper as Malfoy's body jerked awkwardly into Harry's full Body-Bind. Malfoy fell backward, and his eyes darted around frantically as angry boils popped up on his face. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, grabbing Harry's arm and hiding her face in his shoulder.
"I really don't want to hurt anyone," she whimpered, and Harry put his arm around her, his hand resting on her waist.
"He deserved it," said Harry angrily. "It's not like he hasn't hurt you."
Ron was laughing so hard that tears had started to stream down his face. "How'd you like that, Malfoy?" he exclaimed gleefully, slapping his knee. Malfoy could only blink. "What? You don't have anything to say for once?" Still laughing, he turned to Harry and Hermione.
"Hey Harry, didn't you tell me once that Muggle hunters sometimes put animal heads on their walls? What do you say, a unique Malfoy statue for our room?" Ron was struggling to regain his composure.
"Too vile," Harry spat. Hermione finally dared to look up. "I wouldn't want to look at him everyday."
"He's nice when he's silent," said Hermione, "but I feel a bit bad about the boils-Ununcului!" She looked down at him, satisfied. "I think I like him like that."
"Yeah, but where are we going to keep him like that?" joked Ron, who had finally stopped laughing. Malfoy's blinking had grown even more frantic. "What're we supposed to do with him now?"
"Get him out of here," said Harry finally. "I don't want to deal with him. Do you know how to send him out of here like that, Hermione?"
She studied him for a minute. "Er, I think so... but you don't want to take him to one of the teachers?"
"It's your call," said Ron after exchanging a shrug with Harry.
"I just want him out of here," said Hermione. She closed her eyes, as if summoning all her energy. "Mobilicorpus! Diricti-away!"
Malfoy popped up like a stiff piece of wood and began to float out of the room. His rigid body slammed into the door before it opened, but after that, he was gone. Harry and Ron and Hermione watched him until he was out of sight.
"Where's he going?" asked Ron.
Hermione waved her hand. "I don't know, and I don't care. The full Body-Bind eventually wears off, but he'll just float around until then. Perhaps one of the teachers will spot him. Again, I don't really care."
"What do you think he wanted to tell us?" said Ron as he crossed the room. Harry's arm was still around Hermione, and Ron draped his arm across her shoulder.
"Probably call Hermione a Mudblood, insult your family, and make cracks about my parents," said Harry darkly. "I wish he'd just go back to his family's estate and stay there."
Ron seemed to get his point. He looked down at Hermione. "How are you? You-er, weren't looking too fresh in Lupin's class."
"I wasn't, but I'm at least feeling better now," said Hermione, offering him a small smile. "Harry said that Filch caught you on your way here. How ever did you go from his grasp to Malfoy's?"
"Malfoy stunned him," said Ron, "or something. I didn't recognize the spell, but it couldn't have been too strong. He was alert by the time Malfoy had poked me around the next corner."
"I don't trust him," said Harry.
"I don't like him," added Hermione.
"He's a disgusting person," finished Ron.
Harry shook his head, and they stood in silence for a few moments. Finally, they broke apart, and it was Harry who spoke.
"No use worrying about it now," he said. "Come on, we'd better head towards class. We're probably late as it is."
* * *
Ron and Harry had Quidditch practice that afternoon, and Hermione watched them from the stands and studied for Charms at the same time. They were exhausted at the end, but Hermione still marched them up to the library, insisting they get to work right away on their essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"This is unnecessary, `Mione," grumbled Ron, trailing even farther behind her than Harry. His schoolbag was handing precariously on his shoulder, and he was still holding his left hand with his right. The twins had decided to use the rest of the team for target practice with the Bludgers.
"Oh, hush Ron!" she called, pulling on Harry's arm to make him hurry up. "I know full well that you'll never get started on your essay if I don't make you. The longer I wait, the harder it will be-so hurry up!" She stopped at the library door, giving them both a moment to catch up.
"We-er, have a couple months still," said Harry, but he knew it was no use. Hermione shook her finger at him, and the gesture nearly sent Harry into laughter. This was the Hermione he had missed so much in the last couple of months.
"You shouldn't talk either, Harry, honestly. I wonder sometimes how the two of you made it this far. Such little regard for your marks..." she went on talking as the entered the library, but her tone dropped to a low whisper.
"Stupid Belwit Curse," grumbled Ron again as they put their things at a table in the corner. "I think that hat has it in for me. Why else would it want me to learn all about something that nearly killed me?"
"Keep your voice down!" hissed Hermione, looking around frantically for Madam Pince. She wasn't sitting at her desk, so she must have been sorting returned books. "Don't complain, Ron. At least you received something easily researchable. I've never even heard of Affinity of Relations! Oh, but it really does sound interesting, and I do enjoy a challenge..."
"We missed this?" muttered Ron as Hermione walked away, still murmuring about her good fortune in being given such an exigent subject. Harry hit him with the back of his hand. "OW! I was just kidding!"
"Don't joke, Ron," warned Harry, watching Hermione disappear behind one of the vast shelves of books. "You know what she's been through."
"Yeah, I know," he said, slouching in his seat and flipped open his textbook. "How about this for a start? `The only reason I'm writing about some stupid curse that nearly split my head open is because a talking piece of felt told me to...'"
Harry ignored him, flipping through his own book. However, it was apparent that the text didn't include anything on the Dark Scar. He then turned to his scrolls of notes, skimming each one of them until he found those from the day Professor Lupin had discussed the Dark Scar. He'd only copied down a few lines of information; there was a lot more about the curses and spells unique to Death Eaters. Still, it was a start. He did a very Hermione-like thing, tearing off a bit of parchment, and he started composing a list of things to research.
* * *
"I thought that we still had a few more months."
Harry was so sure he was alone that he nearly fell out of his chair despite the familiar voice. As one hand clutched his wand in his pocket and the other gripped the desk in the prefect common room, he turned around.
"Merlin, you scared me, Hermione," he said. She stepped closer to him, resting one hand against the desk and the other on the back of his chair as she looked over his shoulder.
"It's after eleven, Harry," she informed him, and he noticed she was already dressed in her nightgown and robe. "You should be in bed. It's not a Friday night."
"You aren't," he said, "and, besides, we don't have any classes tomorrow morning. We were supposed to have double Care of Magical Creatures, remember, but Hagrid hasn't been having much luck with the hursles."
"I suppose," said Hermione finally. She let go of his chair, and Harry looked back down to his work. "I really thought you weren't very enthused about working on your essay, though."
"I found more than I expected," said Harry, "and I sort of got into it. I just started writing and didn't realize how late it had gotten." It wasn't a lie, but he wasn't being completely truthful. He'd taken some notes, but he wasn't anywhere near starting his essay. Instead, he'd been reading about the curses and spells connected to the Dark Scar, wondering which one might have been used against Hermione.
"I can see how much you found," said Hermione, tapping the stack of library books as she pulled up a chair. She recoiled as the book on top began changing color and making threatening noises. "Restricted Section?"
Harry nodded. "There's not a single thing about it in any book in the main library. Professor Lupin had already sent up a list with everyone's essay topics and denoted everyone he thought might need access to it," he explained. "It took me awhile to find the books that seemed to have the most information. By the time I had them, you had gone and Ron was dozing at the table on top of his Divination homework."
Hermione giggled. "I'm sorry I didn't stay," she said, and she sighed. "This Affinity of Relations is proving to be a real challenge. I asked Madam Pince about it, and she said that even the Restricted Section wouldn't have much information on it." Hermione lowered her voice, as if she'd discovered a sacred secret about the library, and Harry had a feeling that, in her mind, she had. "It turns out that there is a collection of books even more dangerous and protected than those in the restricted section. Madam Pince said she would gather the ones I needed, but she had to get permission from both Professor Lupin and Dumbledore, first."
"So no luck?" asked Harry, and Hermione nodded. He pushed his quill around on the desk, searching for the right thing to say. "So... I've told you why I'm still here. What about you?"
"I can't sleep. Again." Hermione shifted uncomfortably.
"Don't act like you're ashamed about it," said Harry. "But what led you up here? I didn't exactly picture this as a good place for you to run off to."
"It's not," admitted Hermione, "but it is the only other place I can really be at this time of night. Besides," she added hesitantly, "I was almost hoping you or Ron would be here."
Harry looked at her with interest. "Why?"
Hermione shrugged, but the flush of her cheeks gave her away. "Oh, all right," she sighed, "I just didn't want to be alone, and I feel safe with you."
"Safe," repeated Harry. She nodded, but he didn't press the subject. "Why can't you sleep?"
"Ginny's snoring," said Hermione airily, but her face then grew serious. "Dreams, thoughts, the usual. And..."
"And?" said Harry as she trailed off.
"And I have a very unpleasant headache," said Hermione. She absently noted, "I've been having them all week."
"You should see Madam Pomfrey," replied Harry automatically. "It's usually not a good-"
"It's usually a sign you have too many things going on at once," interrupted Hermione. She shrugged. "My mum used to say that when she would get a migraine from working too hard, and I've already admitted I have a lot on my mind."
"You have," agreed Harry. His hand rested on her leg, and he looked up to meet her eye. The normal twinkle that had been coming and going for weeks was gone again, and it had been replaced with worry and insecurity. "Is there anything I can do to help you? Do you need someone to talk to about anything?"
Hermione shook her head. "I think I'm good," she said, standing up. She wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and kissed his cheek gently. "Sleeping would probably help more than anything, and I need to do that anyway. You too."
"Yeah, I know," said Harry, and he stood up to walk her to the door. "I'm on the last page of a chapter. I promise I'll go downstairs and to bed as soon as I finish."
"If you will," said Hermione, opening the door. Harry leaned down and not only hugged her, but he kissed the top of her head. "Good night, Harry."
"Good night, `Mione," called Harry softly as she exited the portrait hole and walked quietly down the stairs in the direction of the girls' dormitories. He shut the door just as quietly and went back to the desk. He would leave after he read those last few paragraphs, not because he wanted to, but because he'd promised Hermione.
Harry picked up his quill again, looking down at the page again. He knew full well he wouldn't be nearly as into the project if Hermione wasn't so connected to it.
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