Chapter Twenty-Eight
SUMMONING CHARMS
"Harry! Ron!"
Hermione was rushing down the lawn toward them, a very large stack of books cradled in her arms. Harry felt very glad to see her; she had practically disappeared after lunch. One moment she had been walking next to him on the way back to Gryffindor tower, and the next moment she was nowhere to be found. He usually wouldn't have thought anything of this, but he was so afraid that something-namely Marks-would befall her. She caught up with the boys quickly, and Harry wordlessly took the majority of the books from her.
"I was just in the library," said Hermione breathlessly.
Ron raised an eyebrow at Harry. "See, mate?" he said to Harry. "She's fine-just like I said she would be."
Harry didn't say anything. Ron hadn't been the one with his face smashed against the wall as he was forced to listen to taunts about their best friend. Hermione seemed to ignore Ron as well.
"Harry," she scolded, "give those back. I don't want you to hurt your arm any more."
"My arm is fine, Hermione," Harry assured, patting her back gently. Hermione looked at him hesitantly, but then she was all business again.
"Here," she said, withdrawing a piece of parchment from the pocket of her robes. "Remember that day in the library ages ago?"
"Yes," Ron deadpanned. "Since we're not in there so much, it's standing out completely in my mind."
Hermione elbowed Ron. Hard. She brushed passed him and walked shoulder to shoulder with Harry, glaring at their other friend. "You'll listen," she said knowingly, showing him a list written in her small, neat handwriting. "There was a day we were in there working on our essays when we originally had Minister Bom's book, and I found a series of spells I wanted to try on it. Well, Madam Pince wouldn't let me have that book, but I did get a list of spells that I think will help. You'll cast them for me, won't you, Harry?"
"Of course," said Harry, wrapping his arm around her back out of habit. Ron sniggered behind him. He leaned in and whispered to Hermione, "Do you think we could set Erinel on him just this once?"
Hermione giggled. "I'm going to miss him so much," she said ruefully.
"Who? Ron? Why would anyone miss him?"
"I heard that!"
"Yeah," said Harry, looking over his shoulder and grinning at Ron. He let go of Hermione as they approached Hagrid's cabin. They were actually a little earlier than the majority of their classmates; only Lavender, Parvati, and Seamus were already there. "Are these Ordinary Wizarding Level, Hermione?"
"These three are," said Hermione, kneeling on the grass. Harry followed her, setting down her books and holding the list at its lower corners with his thumbs. She gestured to the first three spells on the list. He noticed that she'd actually written in two different colors of ink, green and black. "Everything in green, though, isn't." She looked at him anxiously.
"I'll do my best," said Harry. He looked at her sadly. "You could do all these stuff in your sleep, couldn't you?"
Hermione didn't say anything. He wasn't sure if she was embarrassed or upset. Ron dropped to his knees near them.
"Anything for me to do?" Ron wanted to know.
"Other than sarcastic comments?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow at his redheaded friend. He couldn't help but add, "Or Anna?"
"Harry!" Hermione scolded, sounding almost mortified. Ron just went red, and he shut up.
"It's only fair," Harry reasoned, looking past her at the groups of Slytherins that were now gathered on the lawn outside of Hagrid's hut. "He's gotten in enough cracks this year, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I do think," said Hermione. Suddenly she squealed, clapping her hands together. There was only one thing that he knew of that could evoke such a reaction from her. Sure enough, Hagrid was standing at the pen, stroking his very wild beard. He looked ready to release the hursles. The gate didn't look to be open yet, but something small and feathery was rushing toward them, its blue tongue lolling out of its mouth. "Erinel!"
Erinel the hursle took a great running leap and landed soundly in Hermione's arm. He squirmed and wiggled, crawled up on her shoulder and began licking her face. Hermione didn't bother trying to calm him down; she just hugged him tightly and nuzzled her cheek to him.
"It's always so nice to see you," she cooed. The hursles might have looked like shrunken, feathered horses, but they behaved like lovable dogs. Erinel flopped around in her arms, relaxing on his back so she could rub his stomach. Utterly content, his tongue kind of fell towards one side of his mouth. Almost immediately, his eyes closed. Hermione sighed happily. "Is he not just the most lovable thing you've ever seen?"
"All it takes is a feathery mutt to get Hermione Granger to go all mushy," said Ron, stroking the hursle's belly hesitantly. "Who would have thought?"
Hermione glared at him, still holding Erinel as if he were a baby. He batted one of his front paws, opened his eyes, and leaped out of Hermione's arm. He wandered over to Ron, lifted a leg, and peed right in front of him. As disgust spread across Ron's face, Erinel strutted back to Hermione and curled up in her laugh. Harry did his best not to laugh as Ron moved back very quickly. Even Hermione began to smile a bit once Ron began to laugh good-naturedly. She kissed Erinel's forehead and allowed the hursle to relax in her lap.
"Hey, Erinel," said Harry kindly. He patted the hursle's head. "Hey, boy."
"Yeah, hey Erinel," said Ron when Hermione glared at him once more. It wasn't that he didn't like the hursle; Harry suspected that Ron was sort of put off by the fact that Erinel had taken more to Hermione and Harry than him.
"So, about the book," said Hermione once Erinel had drifted off to sleep again.
Ron got an odd sort of look in his eyes. "I've been meaning to say-don't you think this all is a bit weird? Not so much the book, I know you think that is, but what about this Ben? I don't know the guy, and I don't know how well you know him. So Marks had the book for a while. What's to say the whole thing wasn't a set up? Maybe he wanted you to find that book, Harry, and Ben was in on it." Ron folded his arms across his chest.
"The thought's occurred to me, yes," said Hermione briskly. Harry looked at her, surprised. He found Ben likeable enough; he hadn't thought not to trust the Slytherin. "However, if Ben were in the league with Marks, he'd also be in the league with Voldemort. Voldemort did kill Ben's parents; I've known that a long time. It would be like Harry supporting the Dark Lord, totally absurd."
"You sound like you know him," said Ron accusingly. "I still say Voldemort could have one day been, `All right there, Agouti, it's time to prove yourself. Befriend that Potter boy.' Where would that have us? Dead, I'll tell you. Right, then, let's trust him."
"I do know him," said Hermione rolling her eyes. "I told you, you should have taken Arithmancy. Ben dropped Divination for it, so he's in my class. Professor Vector has us work together; everyone else in there is a Ravenclaw. Didn't I tell you?"
"Glad he's just an open book," muttered Ron.
"The Slytherins can't all be bad," said Hermione.
"You're much too trusting," said Ron. "Voldemort won't need a diabolical plan to get to you. All it'll take is him claiming to be a redeemed wizard." Ron glared at Hermione. "I'd rather be safe than dead, thanks. I'm right, aren't I, Harry?"
"Er," said Harry, sensing conflict. "Well, I'm sure Ben's no saint, but maybe he deserves a chance. We could just... er, play the book and see how it goes. It never hurts to be cautious."
"All right, all right," Ron grumbled, although he still looked a little skeptical to Harry. "Ben's cool; Mark's a bloody menace. What if Marks did something to Bom's book alone, then? I know I told you about all those cursed books once, Harry. I'd rather not get my eyes burnt out."
"It's just as it was, Ron," said Hermione. "I looked it all over last night, and I don't think Marks ever figured out how to open it. Come on, aren't you the least bit curious about what's inside?"
"A little," Ron admitted hesitantly.
"Then we'll try tonight," said Hermione, pocketing the list of spells. "We won't put a lot into it; we don't have that kind of time anyway, not with O.W.L.s."
"Yer tests star' next week, don't they?"
The three friends turned at the sound of Hagrid's booming voice. Only Erinel didn't stir.
"They start in exactly one week," said Ron, suddenly sounding quite forlorn.
Hagrid knelt down, clapping Ron's shoulder and nearly knocking him over. "Won't be as bad as you `spect, I reckon," he said.
"No, Ron, they won't be so bad," said Hermione. Ignoring the look he gave her, she turned to the groundskeeper. "How are you, Hagrid?"
"Can't complain," said Hagrid jovially. "Weddin's still on for the end o' August, o' course. You'll be there?"
Harry, who had mostly been trying to stay out of anything that might come up between Ron and Hermione, reached over and absently scratched Erinel. "We wouldn't think of missing it, Hagrid, you know that."
"Yeh, I reckon I do," Hagrid said, scratching his wild beard. Harry and Ron had a bet on that said there was as much hair on the groundskeeper's face as there was on Hermione's head. It all had in common that it was very bushy. "I know yeh're all growin' up an' all, but it'd sure be good to see you some. Last few weeks, yeh'll be done with yer hard lessons, an' I was hoping yeh'd be down to see me more of'en."
Harry's stomach turned a little. They hadn't been down to see Hagrid much that year, or they hadn't seen him as much as they should have, at least. "I'm sorry, Hagrid," he said, and he also heard two other voices chiming in.
"Ah, no issue!" said Hagrid cheerfully. "I bin busy more an' more with Olympe, o' course. It makes meh..." His dark eyes were starting to tear up, and he somehow found a handkerchief the size of a baby blanket in one of his coat's pockets. "It makes meh happy, yeh know?"
Hagrid blew his nose quite loudly, and he was smiling when he folded up the blanket and put it back in his pocket. Harry was about to say something, but the half giant was suddenly all business.
"Righ' well," said Hagrid, and he stood up. "Well, I'm needin' to talk to yeh, `Ermione, if yeh don't mind. Yeh don't worry about Erinel; the boys'll take good care o' `im. Come on, now, jus' me."
Hermione seemed reluctant to go, but once the sleeping Erinel had been plopped into Harry's lap, she got up with another word. She didn't even glance back as she followed Hagrid to a more private place to talk, which happened to be toward the back of the cabin. Hagrid stoked their group's hursle as she disappeared from sight. Hermione had been called aside in every lesson that morning, and Harry didn't worry so much about losing her when he knew she was right there.
* * *
It wasn't that Hermione was scared to talk to Hagrid, considering she'd already been through the same conversation with Professors Lupin, Vector, and McGonagall, it was just that Hagrid was so different than her other professors. If someone were to ask her which of her lessons she liked best, the three that she had been through that morning would have been at the top of the list. She enjoyed Care of Magical Creatures, and she loved Hagrid very much, but Hermione had always had trouble thinking about it as an actual lesson. It just wasn't the same as Arithmancy, for instance. She might have enjoyed both classes, but she couldn't help but think of Professor Vector as a teacher and Hagrid as, well, Hagrid. Hermione wrapped her arms tightly about herself, pulling her sweater and robes tight to her body.
"'Ermione?" said Hagrid hesitantly, coming to a stop just beyond the sight of any one of Hermione's classmates. He glanced down, studying his hands intently. His sudden interest in them did not surprise Hermione. "Well, I jus' wanted yeh to know, Professor Dumbledore came an' saw me las' night. He tol' me what happened, o' course, with the dementors... an'... an'... yeah, he tol' me what happened, all right."
Hermione couldn't help but hug herself tighter. She'd done okay so far with this today, but she still wasn't sure what hurt the most. It was hard enough to be without her magical abilities; it actually seemed harder to have lost the security in knowing that no one knew her secret. Hermione wanted to tell Hagrid she was fine, but she couldn't.
"Now, I..." said Hagrid, but he trailed off. "C'mere," he said instead.
Hermione did. Hugging Hagrid had the same comfort and security as hugging Harry, but, of course, in a very different way. The half giant patted her head awkwardly, like Ron would. Hermione didn't realize it until he let go of her, but tears had slipped out. Hagrid had his large handkerchief again and was dabbing at his wet eyes.
"I'm sorry," Hermione hiccupped. "I really haven't done that yet today; I didn't mean-"
"Yeh don't have anything to be sorry for, `Ermione," said Hagrid gently, composing himself. "Yeh're a great girl. I wouldn'ta wished this on no one, but I especially wouldn'ta wished it on you. I wish it were jus' about anyone else. It jus' isn't right, what happened, it jus' isn't right at all."
Hermione nodded, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. From another pocket of his large coat, Hagrid pulled another handkerchief. This one was much smaller, and it was very clean. She accepted it, almost smiling a little. He put a hand on her back.
"I'm okay," said Hermione a few seconds later, handing it back.
"No, yeh're not," said Hagrid. He blinked a few times. "But yeh will be. Yeh're a strong one, `Ermione."
Hermione bit her lip. People kept telling her that, but she didn't believe them. She didn't understand how she could be brave when she was too scared to go to sleep in her own bed back in Gryffindor tower each night. She didn't know how she could be strong when her insides froze with unspoken terror each time Harry put an arm around her or patted her back. She didn't know how she could keep living when nearly everything that had meant something had been taken away. Of course, she still had the few things that meant the very most. Thinking of those things-Hogwarts, Harry, her family, Ron-kept her going. She nodded to Hagrid.
"Good girl," said Hagrid. It was almost as if he knew what she had been thinking. "Yeh knew, I get the feeling that yeh don't think yeh'll make it through this. I reckon that yeh will. Yeh got everyone on your side, `Ermione. Yeh got all the professors; yeh got Dumbledore, more than yeh know. Yeh got Harry, and yeh got Ron, and I'll reckon that Harry would do anything for you. Yeh won't have to face it all alone, yeh know."
Hermione burst into tears, not because she didn't believe what Hagrid was saying, but because she knew that he was exactly right. He was so lovable, Hagrid was, and he was a master at saying the things that a person needed to hear. Suddenly, she realized that Hagrid looked startled.
"I'm okay," she promised. "I really am. You're right, Hagrid. I do have all those people. It's not so bad when I think about it like that."
Hagrid grinned through his shaggy beard. His beetle black eyes shining, he said, "Yeh know, I've bin thinkin' on it. I really miss our sessions. I know I got Olympe an' all, but I'd like to see more of you next year. Maybe the boys could come to."
Hermione managed a real smile. What Hagrid was talking about was probably her best-kept secret. During her third and fourth years, she had been down to see Hagrid without Harry and Ron on a very regular basis. Having been expelled in his third year, Hagrid had never received a proper magical education, and Hermione had been determined to teach him all about magic that he wanted to know. She'd helped him, practically religiously, for two years, but this year had gotten off to a rough start, and Hermione had gotten out of the habit of heading down to Hagrid's cabin two or three times a week.
"I might be able to talk them into it," said Hermione, still smiling a little.
"Yeh ready to go back?" Hagrid said, motioning toward the rest of the class.
Hermione started to nod, but something stopped her. Gazing into the Forbidden Forest, something caught her eye. Two great oaks, standing side by side at the forest's edge, came into sharp contrast. Her mind was spinning, as it had the day before in the hospital wing. It was March again, and she was being dragged through the snow. Every part of her body hurt, but she was screaming as loudly as she could, pleading for someone to help her. There was a hasty silence charm muttered, and the snow was swirling around...
"'Ermione!" Hagrid bellowed.
It was late May again. There wasn't any snow on the ground. No one was forcing her to do anything. No one but Hagrid was even in sight. Hermione was breathing heavily.
"Maybe... just a minute," said Hermione. Hagrid clapped her shoulder in understanding and trotted back to watch over the rest of the class. Taking several deep breathes, Hermione walked over the half empty hursle cage. The majority of the hursles belonged to Hufflepuff groups. They typically had Care of Magical Creatures right after Slytherin and Gryffindor did. Hermione didn't know of any Ravenclaw fifth-years taking the class.
Hermione reached down into the pen cautiously. At once, an orange-colored hursle that Erinel liked to chase around staggered to its feet. It bounded towards Hermione once it seemed aware of its surroundings. It licked her hand, jumping about contentedly. She was so busy with the hursle that, when she heard the footsteps, she only assumed it was Hagrid. Or Harry or Ron.
"You know, Granger, you wouldn't even be worth going after if you were any more of a target." With those words, Marks stepped out of the shadows, his face twisted into a sinister smirk. He actually managed to look more menacing than Malfoy ever had. Hermione tried to step back, but two people had appeared at her sides, grabbing her arms. One of them clamped a hand roughly over her mouth. Marks laughed as she began to struggle.
"Where are your boys, Mudblood?" he sneered. "Why aren't they coming to save you?"
Hermione could feel her heart racing, not knowing what they wanted with her. Her fear filled eyes darted around.
"That bloody boyfriend of yours got me in trouble," said Marks, stepping closer. He touched a rough hand to her face, and Hermione began to struggle more forcefully. Her fear turned to panic when he began to caress her cheek and his other hand slipped beneath her robes to her side. Marks chuckled. "I didn't think you'd like that. Oh no, I'm not very into that, Granger. Not with Mudbloods, I'm not. I just want a bit of revenge. The Marks family doesn't do detentions, and we don't lose house points. Now, how can I show Potter that? Through you, of course."
Hermione's heart was beating very fast by the time he went to withdraw his wand. In a way, it was almost relieving; she'd been so afraid of what else he could have used to hurt her. The feeling didn't last long. His spell hit her, a blast of searing pain that seemed to tear at her insides. It happened again, and Flint, on her right, prevented her from dodging it.
"Expelliarmus!"
Hermione didn't know where the spell came from or who cast it, but the only thing that really mattered was that it was effective. The next two hexes sent Flint and Moon running, and a third knocked Marks to his feet. He, too, fled.
Draco Malfoy stepped out of the bushes.
"Did they hurt you?" he asked a visibly shaken Hermione. She was hugging herself again, muttering things under her breath. Tears had started to slip down her cheeks, and Malfoy actually looked concerned. "Do you need me to get someone? Potter?"
Hermione managed to shake her head.
"Sure?" Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "I always wanted to try the summoning charm on a person."
"I'm fine," said Hermione at last, and she managed a weak smile. "I'm sorry. They just... well, it panicked me."
"It's okay," said Malfoy, rather soothingly. He looked as if he understood. "It makes sense, with all that's happened. Now... come with me? I mean, will you come with me? I need to talk to you about something. I saw you come back here, but then those three had to show up. I'll have you back in a few minutes."
He was heading into the forest. Hermione swallowed, and she followed him. She was unsure where the sudden trust had come from. A few minutes later, he scurried down a rift of several feet, offering her a slightly grubby hand. She took it, and he kept her from falling on her way down.
"Thank you," said Hermione. The ditch was very deep, and Hagrid's hut was no longer visible in the distance.
"Don't mention it," smirked Malfoy. It didn't last for long. He actually looked very concerned. "Merlin, are you sure you don't want me to get you Potter?"
Hermione shook her head very quickly. "He touched me," she stammered.
"I saw that," said Malfoy. He scampered off for just a moment, and Hermione glanced around. They were standing at the foot of a very, very large tree with a peculiar trunk. Its roots were practically removed from the ground, forming a tent of sorts that was would have been great enough for her to stand on. There were two books in there, thick leather-bound editions of what looked to be spell books. She lowered herself onto an adjacent to the tree trunk.
Malfoy appeared again at that moment, holding a cup of water. He had his wand out, and Hermione recognized the charm as a purifying charm. He handed her the cup. It was chipped at the top but very clean. She accepted it with a grateful smile, and he dropped down next to her on the log, giving her plenty of space. He was still limping, but she had almost expected that.
"You saved me again," said Hermione.
"Yeah," said Malfoy. He didn't even try to gloat. "I still don't think we're equal, though. I've hurt you a lot more than I've helped you." He wiped at his forehead, looked in the general direction of Hogwarts, and let the subject drop. "Those three are nothing but trouble."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, which made Malfoy laugh. He extended his one leg out in front of him. It turned in at an odd angle but did not look broken. She figured that her healing charm hadn't been completely effective. At least he seemed able to walk on it.
"I take offense at people trying to take my place," said Malfoy sarcastically. "Marks, that's a name to know."
"Is it?" Hermione said. She was distracted, temporarily, by the gaping hole in Malfoy's robes. She giggled, knowing full well what had been there. "What happened?"
Malfoy looked down. "They belonged to that bloody Gryffindor boyfriend of yours. I wasn't about to walk around wearing that thing." He looked at her intently. "But you knew that."
"Yeah, I did," said Hermione. "Don't insult Gryffindors. I'm one, don't you remember?"
"Blasted Gryffindors," Malfoy muttered, but he was still smiling for some strange reason. He arched an eyebrow. "So Harry is your boyfriend now?"
"No," said Hermione quickly. "But you know that."
"I know your every thought, unfortunately," said Malfoy. He sounded quite rueful. "I'd rather like to get you out of my head. You're the one that wrote a bloody essay on this Affinity of Relations. How do I get rid of it?"
"I never did come across that," said Hermione quietly, looking at her hands again. "Anyway, what were you saying about Marks?"
"Well, I was going to say that you'd best avoid him," said Malfoy. He grinned slyly. "Maybe you should take Harry up on that sort of offer he made yesterday. I hate to be the one to tell you, but Marks's brain works that way. He'll try to hurt you to hurt Potter."
"I wish he just wouldn't hurt anyone," said Hermione sadly. "What is his problem, anyway?"
"He doesn't have a problem," said Malfoy. His nose turned up. "Just when you had me convinced, you started thinking like a Gryffindor again. Don't you get it? Marks has no problem because he is the problem. He's a machine, Granger. His father is one of Voldemort's number ones. Didn't you know that? Marks the senior even spent time in Azkaban. He got captured early on-well, probably about a year before Potter put the Dark Lord out-in Voldemort's place. He spent a good four or five years there."
"You can call me Hermione," said Hermione, cutting in.
"Let me finish, Hermione," said Draco snidely. "Marks the senior is a wreck of a person now, of course, you know what dementors do to a person. He's a St. Mungo's case, but Voldemort will probably send him out on the field anyway. He's kill-crazy, not unlike Voldemort himself. A Death Eater left without human emotion is just what Voldemort wants. No pesky thoughts to get in the way."
"Did you drag me all the way out here to tell me why Marks is so evil?" said Hermione. She shivered. It was either chillier right where she was sitting than anywhere else or she found Draco's words a little chilling.
"No, I actually wanted to see if you knew any charms for turning muddy water into fabulous mixed drinks," said Draco.
"I didn't know you had a sense of humor."
"There's a lot you don't know about me, Hermione."
"In about five more minutes, Harry's really going to start wondering where I've got off to, Draco."
"You know what Voldemort's plan is," said Draco instantly. "He has to come back completely to power. He wants Potter dead. All the Potters have been-well, I don't know what it is that they are, but Voldemort doesn't like it. The whole lot of them, Gryffindors, so I'm guessing it's something goody-goody."
"What about Harry?" Hermione said instantly. "Why does Voldemort want him dead?"
Draco snorted. "Listen, will you? I don't know."
"No, what is it about the Potters?"
"I don't know that either." Draco stared at her, and Hermione hated the fact that he could tell what she was thinking. "Don't tell me it's a surprise to you that there's something about Potter's family. Why else would Voldemort want them all wiped out? Ask the golden boy about his grandparents sometime. They're dead, too."
"You don't have to sound so cheerful," said Hermione. She didn't appreciate the way Draco talked down about Harry. It was what she expected, but she didn't like it. Draco ignored this.
"So anyway, I was around Death Eater activity all summer. Two main things were going on. They were trying to locate Potter's Muggle relatives, and they were trying to plan an attack on Hogwarts," said Draco. "Crabbe and Goyle's fathers were part of the group trying to find Harry. They failed because they're blithering idiots, and it cost the lives of their sons-my friends." Draco rushed on quickly. "Obviously, the thing about attacking Hogwarts fell through, so they settled for a double attack on Beauxbatons and Durmstrang."
"You told me that that was Voldemort acting alone!"
"It was Voldemort acting alone," said Draco. He looked at Hermione blankly. "It's not like he didn't discuss it with anyone first. He was all about waiting for the perfect moment. I reckon that moment came at a time that wasn't convenient for him to tell everyone. According to my father-" Draco spat the word out "-it makes him feel like he's even more in control than he already is."
Hermione bit her lip, nodding along. "So what you're trying to tell me is that Hogwarts is in danger?" she said fearfully.
"No," said Draco. "The wards can only be taken down by the person that put them up. I'm assuming that Dumbledore did some of them, and it's not like he's going to let Voldemort onto the grounds. I think some of the wards are so old that the wizards that put them up are long gone, and others are so powerful that they would kill a person that even thought of taking them down."
"Weren't there wards on Beauxbatons and Durmstrang?"
"Sure there were," said Draco, "but not like at Hogwarts. I know you read Hogwarts, A History like Muggles read bibles. Surely you caught on to the whole underlying theme of there's more to the school than meets the eye?"
"Well, that's usually true of most anything."
"Yeah, that's why I called you out here." Draco stood up, and he offered Hermione a hand up. She took it. "No one knows why, but the old magic-blood magic, if you will-says that there's something special about Hogwarts. Supposedly, any spell can be preformed much better on Hogwarts grounds. I don't believe it. If you can throw a Killing Curse or torture someone to death with an incantation, you can do it anywhere, but that's me." Draco didn't say anything else.
"Is that all?" Hermione wanted to know.
"Yeah," said Draco. They walked in silence toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Before long, the castle was very much visible in the distance. Draco stopped. He looked at her sincerely. "You're worried, and you shouldn't be. Voldemort wants what he can't have. He can't get Hogwarts."
Hermione stopped away from him. She did not look back as she spoke. "It's not Hogwarts I'm worried about. It was never Hogwarts. He also wants Harry, Draco."
"Yeah, I think it was established that he wants Potter," Draco drawled. "I don't think there's a lot you can do about it."
Hermione nodded. "No," she said softly, and Draco followed her a few more paces.
"Take care of yourself," Draco said suddenly. "You don't have magic anymore, so you're going to have figure out other ways to protect yourself."
"I am, aren't I?" said Hermione ruefully.
"Just think it to me when you figure something out," said Draco. He said it as if he were commenting on something completely ordinary, like the weather. "Until then, I'm sure you can rely on Potter to look out for you."
"You mention Harry an awful lot."
"You think about him an awful lot," Draco retorted. He continued very matter-of-factly, "You like him."
"There's no use telling you otherwise," said Hermione.
"No, there isn't," said Draco. He was moving away from her now. He was going back into the forest. "I'm serious, Hermione. Take care of yourself. I don't want to see you hurt."
Hermione took a deep breath, and she headed back to Hagrid's lesson, back to Erinel, back to Ron, back to Harry. She settled down on the grass next to him. Hagrid was talking about the hursles, so she couldn't yet tell him anything about Draco. When Harry smiled down at her, she was ready. She wasn't scared when he put his arm around her, and she even scooted a little closer to him so she could rest her head on his shoulder. It had been a long time since she'd felt so secure.
* * *
"I can't do this," Ron muttered. "I give up. I can't summon the bloody chair. Can we do something else?"
"Summon the chair, Ron," said Anna. She sounded as if she'd been programmed to say that and only that.
Ron spun around. She was standing a few feet behind him, her arms folded over her chest. She'd been reviewing charms, curses, hexes, and jinxes with him for the better part of the last two hours.
"I've already summoned quills, books, your hat, and Pig," Ron protested.
"Summon the chair, Ron," said Anna. She was completely uninterested in and utterly unmoved by his pleas.
"Why does it matter if I can summon a chair?" Ron demanded. He folded his own arms across his chest.
"Summon the chair, Ron," said Anna.
"I've done three dozen summoning charms already," said Ron. "One more is not going to matter."
"Summon the chair, Ron."
"What if I'm ready to move on?"
"Summon the chair, Ron."
"You're the most stubborn person I know," said Ron. "I'm sick of summoning charms."
"Kiss me."
"I'm not doing another-" Ron stopped in mid sentence. He stammered, "Oh... oh!"
Even though Ron courteously bent his head quite low, Anna had to stand on the absolute tip of her toes. His hands at her waist, he drew her in closer as his lips pressed rather urgently against hers. Ron couldn't remember ever kissing her quite like that ever before, and the sensation it left him with was simply indescribable. Forget O.W.L.s. He would have been content just to hold her there for the rest of the evening and kiss her like his life depended on it, but she just had to repeat her blasted line once more.
"Summon the chair, Ron."
Was that what they'd been doing? Ron couldn't quite remember, but something in Anna's eyes told him he'd better do as she said.
"Ac-Accio chair!" Ron managed, his brain still not working properly.
The chair lifted up and hurtled from one side of the room to the other. A little unsure about its path of travel, Ron stepped aside and tugged Anna over towards him. The chair hit the chalkboard behind them with a tremendous clatter. Anna grinned, and she threw herself right into his arms.
"I knew you could do it!" she exclaimed. Ron really didn't really care whether she did or not.
"Where did that come from?" he demanded.
Anna looked up at him innocently. "What, the kiss?" She grinned rather mischievously. "Oh, I knew you'd worked yourself up too much to be able to perform the charm. The chair was farther away, bigger than the other objects, and you'd convinced yourself you couldn't do it. As long as you were putting any thought into it, you wouldn't be able to. I figured that... that catching you off guard like that might clear your head a bit."
"Clear my head a bit?" Ron complained. "You're supposed to be helping me study for the rest of the evening, and I'm not going to be able to think of anything but you and that bloody kiss." He glared at her. "I don't know if you should be kissing anyone like that."
"Well," Anna said, and she backed away from him, folding her arms across her chest again, "you didn't have to kiss me back, Ronald Weasley, and don't you even try to tell me you didn't enjoy it."
"Let me tell you something, Anastasia Clemens," said Ron, emphasizing her full name as she had done his. "I only kissed you back because-" He stopped. "What's wrong?"
"I told you," Anna said softly, "that I hate to be called by my full name." She looked up at him, biting her lip. "I really hate it."
"Anastasia is a pretty name, Anna," said Ron carefully. He reached out, taking her hands in his. "Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Anastasia."
"Don't call me that," said Anna again. She glanced up at him, pleading. "Please Ron?"
Ron's eyes searched hers for a second. "Sure thing," he said, and he scratched his head. He leaned forward, his forehead touching hers. "I'm sorry for teasing you about your name... but I refuse to take back what I said about you being beautiful. Most beautiful girl I know, actually."
Anna just rested her head against his shoulder, and he hugged her tightly. She had Ron a little confused, but he wasn't going to say anything. After a long moment's silence, Ron decided to chalk it up to Anna's being hopelessly insecure, and he kissed her head again.
"I believe you were helping me study for O.W.L.s, Miss Clemens," he said, letting go of her rather reluctantly.
"Ah, yes," said Anna. She grabbed his hand and led him over to the side of the room. They'd met in the same empty classroom that they always had, and they'd cleared the desks to either side of the rooms. Review lists and O.W.L. practice sheets were scattered all over several of the desks.
Ron was starting to wish he'd stayed in the prefect common room with Harry and Hermione. Anna was working him harder than Hermione ever had, although Ron personally thought she was a much better tutor. And he couldn't help but like all the kisses he'd been getting.
"Let's see," said Anna, picking up the list of charms and scooting herself up onto a desk. Ron came over and stood next to her. He read over her shoulder, wrapping an arm around her back. "You're able to do all the complicated charms on the review list, so you should be okay to do anything else on the test." She bit her lip and glanced up at him. "You just can't freeze. If you're nervous, you just can't let it affect your charm work. I know you, Ron. You'll want to do well, but you'll have yourself so flustered that you won't be able to do anything."
"I will not," said Ron crossly. He hesitated, and he sighed. "Okay, you're right. I will. What do you suggest that I do, Anna, love?"
"You're going to go sarcastic on me," said Anna. She patted the area of the desk next to her. "Come on, sit a while. I have faith in you. I don't think you'll have too many problems on your O.W.L.s. In fact, I think you'll do quite well."
"Thanks for helping me study," said Ron.
"Uh-huh," said Anna. He slid an arm around her, but she wasn't really paying attention. She was half turned around from where she was sitting, and she was digging through her bag. Out came a piece of parchment. She looked up at him. "You don't have to be back at the common room at any certain time?"
Ron snorted. "It's a Friday night, Anna."
"So? Maybe Harry or Hermione was expecting you to get back before much longer."
"You actually think that they even noticed my coming and going? They have each other, after all."
"You really should play nice," said Anna with a sigh. She unfolded the parchment. "Here," she said. "I want you to look over this. It's the letter I wrote to my aunt. I finished it days ago, on Tuesday actually, in History of Magic, but I haven't seen you since then."
"And you nag me about not paying attention in there," Ron said, pulling her close as he began to read. His hand rubbed her back gently, just as he often did.
Dear Aunt Vanessa,
I received your letter, and package, early last week. The book looks wonderful, but I haven't gotten a chance to read it yet, and even though your chocolate candies are my absolute favorite, I found it in my heart to do as you said and share with John. (Now, I won't say whether or not the portions are equal.) He's well, of course, you would have heard if things were otherwise. He began his N.E.W.T.s yesterday, and so far, they seem to be every bit as nasty and exhausting as they're made out to be.
Our last Quidditch game was over a week ago. We lost to Gryffindor, 50 to 230. Harry Potter's still Seeker, you know, and Cho Chang's just no match for him. Still, I managed to block three quarters of Gryffindor's shots. At least, that's what John says. I think we'll have an even stronger team next year. Lena is going to try out, and I'm sure she'll make it.
I've been rather busy the last few weeks myself. I'm sure you heard about the dementor attack in Hogsmeade over the weekend. It's been really somber around school. I didn't even know the boy that was killed, he was a Hufflepuff, but it doesn't make it any less awful. I've been helping a friend prepare for his O.W.L.s, and I'll continue studying for my own exams next week.
Anyway, I wanted to ask you about something. Aunt Clara's name came up the other day, and it suddenly dawned on me how little I know about my own relative. I know she died before I was born, and I know that Mum doesn't talk about her much, so I was wondering if you could tell me anything about your littlest sister. I understand if it's too painful. I was just curious.
I hope you're well, and Mittens. I'll have to write to Dad and ask him for permission (or perhaps you could), but I'd love to visit the second week of July.
Love,
Anna
"You know," said Ron offhandedly, "Harry used to have a crush on Cho."
"Really?"
"Really. He asked her to the Yule Ball and everything. A bit embarrassing, but all well. His heart belongs to Hermione now."
"You are so weird, Ron," said Anna, giggling. "Read the letter."
"It sounds fine," said Ron, handing it back to her. "Who's Mittens? And why didn't I get any of those chocolates?"
Anna elbowed him in response to the second comment. "Mittens is Aunt Vanessa's kitten." She looked up at Ron. "So you think it's okay?"
"I think it's great," said Ron. "You don't need my permission to send a letter to your aunt, though."
"I know," said Anna. She folded the parchment neatly but not before taking out her wand. Once it was rolled up, she tapped her wand to it while muttering something or another. "Now, if Emiolet will just come down here..."
As if on cue, the small owl swooped down and stuck out her leg. She and Pigwidgeon had been playing some kind of air chase game for the better part of the study session. They were the same kind of owl, but Emiolet was snowy white, like Hedwig, instead of gray.
"What was that thing you did with your wand?" Ron asked curiously.
Anna blushed. "Oh, that," she said. "Way back when, before anyone I know today was alive, some of my mum's relatives came up with a creative little incantation to seal documents and the like. That way, they could send letters without worrying about others reading it. It's not necessary today, but because my aunt taught me it, I always use it when writing to her."
Ron scratched his head for a moment. "My parents worked a tricky little spell of their own creation on the bathroom at the Borrow. It expels anyone that spends too long in there. Is that the same thing?"
Anna nearly shoved him off the desk.
* * *
Harry pushed his glasses back up his nose and peered closer at the old textbook he was using to revise for his O.W.L.s. Its last owner was Fred Weasley, and nearly all the other Weasley boys' names were marked out on the inside cover. Three names even preceded Bill's, so it was a very old book indeed. Hogwarts had stopped using it, but Fred promised it had been very beneficial in studying for his own O.W.L.s two years before.
It being Friday night with testing to begin on Monday morning, Harry was willing to look at anything that might help him out. He was sprawled out on the sofa of the prefect common room, a small fire dancing merrily before him and Hermione as well. She was sitting with him, her head against his sweater. Harry's arm went behind her shoulders, and his hand was resting at her waist.
"Hermione?" Harry asked, glancing up from the book.
"Uh-huh?" Hermione muttered. She was very engrossed in some book of her own. Harry peered up and around her very bushy brown hair. It had obscured his vision momentarily every time she had shifted in position that evening. It was Gilderoy Lockhart's Travels with Trolls.
Harry snorted. "Why are you reading that?"
"The Standard Book of Spells," said Hermione quickly.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "First," he said, "it looks a lot like one of Lockhart's books from this angle, and second, I asked why you were reading, not what you were reading."
Hermione tilted her head back until her eyes met his. She had a sheepish smile on her face and was blushing a little. "It has a lot of factual information," said Hermione composedly.
"Ah," said Harry, snatching the book from her hand. She rolled over, trying to grab it. Harry grinned mischievously and held it purposely from her reach. "`I often found the accommodations during my travels unsuitable,'" he read loudly, "`as any wizard of my caliber would. I simply could not fathom inhabiting the dingy dregs of my subjects, so I would courageously backtrack on my journey'-I expect Lockhart never did figure out Apparating-`to the nearest suitable inn. Not wishing to frivolously spend the donations of my faithful readers, I often had to get by on my charming good looks.' That, Hermione, is some kind of quality entertainment."
"Oh, there really must have been a shortage of suitable professors that year," said Hermione dramatically. She managed to distract Harry just enough to steal back her copy of Travels with Trolls. Laughing, she tossed it well out of his reach. Harry pulled her back to him, and she turned around to look at him. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Well, yeah," Harry admitted, and she scooted even closer to him so that she could see Fred's old book as well. He pointed at one of the O.W.L. practice sheets that McGonagall had handed out in class the day before. "We're going to have to write a one or two page parchment on the transfiguration of a small animal to a small object."
"Yes," said Hermione. She glanced up at him. "You know, mouse to snuffbox, tortoise to teacup, bird to saltshaker. We spent nearly two years doing it."
"No, no," said Harry quickly. "I know what it is... but I don't understand it. All you need is an incantation, and there you have it. One to two parchments? What am I supposed to say?"
"It's not just an incantation, Harry," said Hermione. She plucked the book right from his hands and began pawing through it, talking all the while. "You must have horrible memory. McGonagall spent nearly a month explaining this." She stopped, shoving a page with a massive diagram and minute text at him. "There are two methods for every transfiguration. One is a long, complicated process. Beginner's transfigurations. The other is much more advanced, and not everyone can do it. It rolls everything up into one."
"Oh yeah," said Harry. "She did explain that." He looked at Hermione guiltily. "Ron and I were... er, kind of playing hangman in the back of my transfigurations book that day."
"You were what?" said Hermione sternly. She reached across to the table for Harry's text. She flipped to the back. Sure enough, dozens of little hangman games had been written in. Shaking her head, she put it back on the table. "Do you want me to explain it?"
Harry grinned. "With examples," he said, and he settled in comfortably with her.
"Well, remember the very first thing we transfigured?" Hermione said. Harry looked at her dully, and she sighed. "We started very small, transfiguring matches into needles. It was possible to make it go all silver, or all pointy, or all shiny, but it took a long time before anyone was able to make it do all of that. You did a little bit of the transfiguration each time, so it didn't require a lot of skill. Now, McGonagall just teaches us how to do it all at once. That's why Transfiguration is so dangerous, of course. If you're not very skilled at it, then you might just transfigure one part of something."
Harry chuckled. "Hagrid gave Dudley a tail once."
"Ah, did he?" said Hermione. She was smiling, which told Harry that she had heard this story from him or Ron before. "Most wizards don't have too much trouble with basic transfigurations, even if they're done quickly. The only person I can think of that really has problems with it is... Neville." She smiled sadly.
"Neville's great," said Harry. "He was asking about you the other day when you were in the hospital."
"Was he?" said Hermione. She didn't seem to be paying a lot of attention to him. Suddenly, her brow furrowed. She reached forward and snatched Harry's transfiguration text up again, flipping straight to the back. "One of Ron's words was Anna's name?"
Harry peered over his shoulder. He counted the spaces; he hadn't gotten this one right. Chuckling, he said, "It took us an awful long time to realize that something was still going on, didn't it?"
"Yes," Hermione agreed. She put the book down, and she actually took Fred's old textbook from Harry and put it down as well. "I talked to Draco the other day."
"You talked to-" Harry stopped. "You did what?"
"During Care of Magical Creatures on Monday," said Hermione casually, "I talked to Draco."
"You talked to Malfoy on Monday, and you're just now telling me about it?" said Harry. He couldn't help but looking at her oddly.
"I'm just now telling you about it because I knew you'd start worrying," said Hermione.
"I'm not-" said Harry, but he changed his mind. "When did this happen? You were with Ron and me the whole time. I don't see when you would have had a chance to talk to Malfoy. What did he want?"
"You can call him Draco," said Hermione. "He doesn't mind. And I wasn't around you and Ron the entire time. Remember? Hagrid pulled me aside to talk about my little problem."
"You shouldn't call it that," said Harry, squeezing her tightly. He wasn't sure why, but whatever fears and reservations she'd had about being around him after the ordeal with the dementors were long gone. "Why did Malfoy need to talk to you? Why couldn't he have talked to all of us at once?"
"Didn't I tell you?" Hermione quipped. She scooted right away from him and folded her arms across her chest. "Draco and I've been carrying on together for ages. Honestly, Harry, listen to yourself! Do you even need to ask?"
"Fine," said Harry, matching her cross pose. "Why did he need to talk to you?"
There was a moment's pause before Hermione said, "I guess he didn't really have to talk to me. You see, this is the part I didn't want to tell you. I knew that it would make you worry."
"Tell me."
"Don't freak out," said Hermione, and she took a deep breath. "Hagrid and I talked. I was doing fine, better than I had during similar conversations with other professors, but then something hit me. I don't know what it was, but I think I had another one of those little memories. I saw the path into the Forbidden Forest, and I remembered being dragged into it. It really scared me, and I needed a moment. Hagrid left me alone. It probably wasn't a good idea because Marks stepped out of the shadows about a second later with two of his cronies."
Harry tensed up. "I'll kill him if he did anything to you."
"He didn't have a chance to," said Hermione, but her voice shook just a little. "They'd grabbed me, but someone disarmed them about a second later. Once they'd run off, Draco stepped out from the forest. He sounded genuinely concerned, and he asked me to follow him for a minute, and I did."
Harry made a fist where she couldn't see it. He was going to kill Marks, regardless, at the first opportunity he got. He was about to ask what Malfoy had wanted from her but thought differently. "Malfoy sure does seem to know what's going on here all the time," said Harry, his eyes narrowed. "What is this, now? Twice he's said he's saved you?"
"He has saved me twice, Harry," said Hermione. She studied her friend critically after pulling away from him. "Don't you get it?"
"Don't I get what?" Harry grumbled, still feeling slightly aggravated. He couldn't believe that Marks had the nerve to go after Hermione, and he hated the fact that it was Malfoy that had helped Hermione, not him. "Perhaps you should enlighten me about... whatever."
"It took me a while, too," said Hermione, without telling Harry what it was. She bit her lip. "I know I told you about the Affinity of Relations. Well, ever since the-the incident in Potions, Draco has been able to pick up on a lot of my thoughts and feelings. He knows when I'm in trouble, and I'm guessing that's why he came. He did want to talk to me, though."
Harry had temporarily stopped caring about Malfoy's conversation with Hermione. He stared at his best friend for a moment. "So you're trying to tell me that Malfoy's been inside your head all this time?"
Hermione shifted. "Well," she said hesitantly, "I guess that's one way of putting it."
Harry shook his head. "Are you sure this guy is legit, `Mione? I don't like trusting him."
"You don't have to," said Hermione, "because I do. He was really nice to me, Harry, worried even. Marks scared me, and Draco was about to go get you."
"Get me?"
"Yes, you know," said Hermione, blushing. "He knew that you would be able to... bring me back." She rushed on. "Anyway, he's still living out of the Forbidden Forest. He's not looking as sickly as before, but I almost feel sorry for him."
"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. "He put you in the hospital wing for nearly two months! How can you?"
"Because I can," said Hermione. "You're acting like I thought Ron would."
"I just care about you, okay?" said Harry at last, realizing it was important to her to tell him. She wasn't sitting so close to him anymore, and she crossed her legs and smoothed her long skirt out over them. She grabbed Harry's hand.
"I know, Harry," said Hermione. "Anyway, he didn't have a lot to say, other than to warn me about Marks. Apparently, his father was one of the Death Eaters that spent time in Azkaban. He seems to think the man is completely crazy, and I'm sure that's saying something if you're Draco."
Harry snorted. "So that's it?"
"Apparently there's something special about Hogwarts," said Hermione, shrugging. "I think he might actually be on to something there. It is supposed to be one of the most magical places known to wizard kind, after all. I just don't know what that could have to do with anything."
Harry nodded, biting his lip. His eyes met hers, and he squeezed her hand when he realized she was doing just the same thing that he was. "So, are you going to tell Ron?"
"As soon as he gets back up from studying with Anna," said Hermione. "I was going to tell the both of you at once, but it suddenly occurred to me that I would probably need some help calming Ron. Draco is not his favorite person." She stopped, letting her understatement have a moment of its own. She gave Harry a mischievous smile. "I wonder how much studying ickle Ronniekins is getting done?"
Harry shook his head quickly. "I'm not sure if I even want to know," he said with a shudder. Hermione started to giggle, but a yawn cut into her laughter. "Tired?" Harry asked, knowing full well that she was.
"Long week," said Hermione, and Harry motioned for to come back to him like she had been earlier. Her head dropped against his chest, and he wrapped an arm tightly around her. He knew that it probably wasn't completely appropriate, especially considering that they maintained that they were best friends and nothing more, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He knew that it had been a long week for Hermione. Her frustration at not being able to use magic had only begun, and Harry knew that it was already starting to hurt more than she had ever imagined.
The whole of Hogwarts seemed to be mourning Evan Dunstable. The last thing that Hermione had needed when she was feeling so down was the somber mood of everyone in the school. Besides those troubles, the Ministry of Magic was once again in uproar. Bom had, indeed, been removed from office, and after just one week, Harry was starting to see why Harris Barker was considered incompetent by so many. His very first appeal to the people was trying to convince them that the whole mess with Voldemort wasn't really a very big deal.
"Are you feeling all right?" Harry wanted to know, reaching up to push some of Hermione's bushy hair back. He rested his chin on the top of her head without really thinking.
"I'm just tired," said Hermione. "Everything's just so out of the ordinary, and then we have O.W.L.s to worry about. If you don't mind, I think I'm going to spend the rest of the evening reading instead of studying. I'll still help you, but I just can't bear the thought of cramming anything else into my head at the moment."
"Ah, so what are you going to do?" said Harry, realizing it was a prime opportunity to tease her. "Travels with Trolls, again?"
"Harry!" said Hermione, but not soon enough. They'd moved around enough that Harry was able to grab the book. He was about to put it out of her reach when he saw a piece of parchment fall out of it. "What's this?"
"That," said Hermione, as he unfolded it, "would be a note from Professor McGonagall about the prefect meeting next week. All fifth year prefects are excused next week because we're supposed to be studying for O.W.L.s."
"Why didn't I get one?" Harry wanted to know.
"Harry, Professor McGonagall stopped sending you and Ron prefect notices back in November. Are you just now noticing?"
"We got prefect notices in the first place?" said Harry with a sheepish grin. Hermione rolled her eyes and took the note from him.
"You don't even wear your badge anymore, Harry," she reminded him.
"Nah," said Harry. He grinned. "What meeting is it talking about?"
This time, Hermione just arched an eyebrow. "You know, the normal Tuesday prefect meeting that school prefects attend?"
"There are meetings on Tuesday?"
"You didn't notice that I leave for an hour and come back every week?" Now, Hermione was really looking at him like he was nuts.
"Wow, you learn something new everyday," said Harry, trying to sound as innocent as possible. She was having too much fun with this, he decided. He was about to say something in his and Ron's defense when she made a lunge for the book of hers he was still holding hostage.
"Hey!" Hermione squeaked as he put it out of her reach again. "That's not fair! It was all supposed to be a diversionary tactic!"
"Didn't work," said Harry, grinning. He waved it around in front of her, and she went for it again. Again, she missed, but Harry was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was more or less lying on him. Hermione was his best friend, and Harry knew that he shouldn't have done it, but his hormones got the better of him. He kissed her.
Harry fully expected Hermione to hit him or something, but she didn't. Instead, she kissed him back. It was much different than the two kisses they had already shared. The first, in his dorm room, he would long maintain she initiated, and the one they had already shared in the prefect common room was mostly a mutual thing. This, however, was of his own doing. It was probably completely and totally inappropriate, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care. He also couldn't really bring himself to think. They pulled apart as quickly as they had come together, and Harry immediately felt a blush rising to his cheeks. Hermione was already sitting up.
"Hermione," said Harry, his voice lower than usual, "maybe it's... er, time that we talk about that."
"I-" Hermione didn't finish the thought. She was gathering up her books. "Maybe tomorrow, Harry. It's getting late, and I'm so tired. I really should be getting some extra rest tonight."
She hugged him. It was an awkward, one-armed hug, and Harry hugged her back only out of instinct. He was baffled, and confused, and he would remain that way long after the portrait hole closed behind Hermione. He scratched his head. Kissing Hermione had been something unexpected, but it was like all that Harry had always wanted and never had. He couldn't explain it, but it had been one of the truest things he had ever known.
"Harry?"
Harry turned around quickly. Ron had just come back in, his book bag swinging low on his shoulder. He looked rather pleased.
"Hey, Ron," said Harry. "You just missed Hermione. She's exhausted, so she went to bed."
"Ah, that's okay," said Ron. He tossed his bag down and plopped down on the sofa. Without missing a beat, he said, "Anyway, there's something I've been meaning to tell you about Anna and her aunt..."
And Ron told him all about Anna's letter, and Harry told him all about Hermione's run in with Marks and talk with Draco because he knew that she wouldn't mind. He just knew without knowing how he knew, but he knew it as surely as he knew that the night was ending as the weekend began.
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