Chapter 2
“Thank Merlin for that!” Ron Weasley exclaimed loudly, only seconds after Professor McGonagall had finished rounding up her class lecture. “I thought this day would never end! Come on you slow pokes, let’s get out of here.”
Smiling at the familiar relief exuding from her red-headed friend, Hermione obligingly packed her bag and the trio joined the throng of jostling classmates at the door. Unexpectedly, the close proximity of so many eager-to-escape students became painful as somebody’s elbow dug sharply into her side. Unable to identify the culprit, Hermione sighed in relief as the crowd reached over-flow point and spilled out into the corridor, quickly dividing into four groups of students heading back to their respective common rooms.
“Game of chess, Harry?” Ron offered, as the three of them clambered through the Fat Lady’s portrait.
“Sure, why not,” Harry shrugged in agreement. “Today’s as good a day as any to finally wipe that winning smirk from your face.”
Ron burst out laughing, and clapped his friend on the shoulder while shaking his head in pity. “Mate... you can try!” He glanced across at Hermione. “You gonna watch?”
She huffed in response and folded her arms across her chest. “Ron, as thrilling as it would undoubtedly be to see you preen while you beat Harry for the fifteenth time this week-“
“Hey!” piped up Harry, indignantly. “I’m not that bad!”
“- I do have other things to do with my time - study for instance, exams are only six months away, you realise?”
Ron rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “How could I with you around?”
Ignoring him, she raised her chin and climbed the stairs to her dorm room. After gathering together her charms textbook, a few dozen sheaves of blank parchment and her favourite quill, Hermione shrugged out of her school robes, opting instead to snuggle into an extra-large Muggle sweatshirt which always helped her study.
Folding her robes carefully so that they were ready for the following morning, Hermione frowned as one of the pockets crackled at her. Intrigued, she slipped a hand inside and drew out a small note, very similar to the one she had received only this morning.
Your kindness towards others is inspirational.
Never forget how wonderful a friend you are.
Always, yours
X
Hermione’s breath caught for a second, and she paused, repeating the words over to herself before she felt a slow smile spread languidly across her face. Whirling around, she grabbed up her textbook and rushed back down the stairs to the common room.
Hurrying across the room she knelt down by Harry, pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head, and leant down to whisper in his ear. “Thank you, Harry; you don’t know how much this means to me!”
Harry, in response, jerked around and inched warily back from her. “Hermione? What-“
“It’s okay,” she murmured, “I don’t mind if you’re embarrassed about it “ I won’t say anything. I just wanted to say thank you “ for thinking of me.”
“But... But...” Harry stuttered. “What-“
“It’s okay,” she murmured again, and, smiling secretively, moved away to curl up in her favourite armchair by the fireplace.
In the periphery of her vision she caught Ron, looking very red faced indeed, lean rather aggressively over the chessboard. “What the hell was that about?”
Harry held his hands up in supplication, looking completely bewildered. “Beats me, mate.” He cast another worried look in her direction, and added conspiratorially, “Perhaps it’s that time of the month, eh?”
Hermione chuckled to herself. Boys. Although she did privately congratulate Harry on his acting skills; perhaps he was growing up too, after all.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Some time later her studying was interrupted by a gentle brush against her sleeve. Geoffrey Fallow, a new seventh year inducted at the beginning of the school year, sat down next to her.
“Hey Hermione,” he greeted politely. She smiled and nodded back to him, reluctant to break away from her Charms work.
“I just wanted to come say thanks for helping me study last night.”
“You’re very welcome,” she returned warmly. “You had that Arithmancy re-test today, didn’t you? How did it go?”
“Well, I don’t want to brag, but...” He chuckled suddenly, looking smug. “Who am I kidding, I love to brag! Let’s just say Vector’s face will be a picture when she grades it!”
Hermione smiled. “That’s really good, Geoff. I’m so proud of you.”
“Couldn’t have done it without you though,” he replied, looking intently at her. “You made all the difference.”
Hermione tutted, and flicked a hand flippantly through the air. “I didn’t do anything except point you in the right direction. The brain behind it is all you. Besides,” she added, her tone softening slightly, “it can’t be easy starting Hogwarts late like you are.”
He swallowed and looked away from her.
Curiosity piqued, Hermione carried on. “New classes, new teachers, new schoolmates; it all adds to the pressure. Frankly, I’d be amazed if you hadn’t had any problems.”
“Yeah, well, thanks anyway,” he said awkwardly.
“My pleasure.”
Silence fell, and Hermione searched his face for a few seconds, wondering whether she should carry on with the questions she dearly wished to ask.
“Geoff-“
“Look, I’d better go,” he interrupted suddenly, standing up. “Thanks again, Hermione.”
“Oh, ok,” she murmured. “If you ever need-“
But he was already striding away towards the stairs and Hermione let her breath out in a whoosh, the ending to her sentence trailing behind unheard.
“-someone to talk to...”
She flicked idly through the next chapter of her charms book, unable to focus properly with the ring of unanswered mysteries zipping through her brain. She didn’t have long to think, however, before Ron flounced up, a scowl already embedded in his features. Hermione sighed, knowing that expression far too well after seven years of close friendship. This would undoubtedly be Ron at his worst; an encounter she never relished.
“What were you talking to that tosser for?” he sneered, plunking himself down ungracefully in the chair Geoffrey had just vacated.
“Because he’s my friend, Ron. Simple concept really “ friends like to talk to each other, just like you and I are doing now.”
He missed, or chose to ignore, her sarcasm.
“Oh come on, Hermione, you hardly know the guy!”
“So?” she asked, feeling anger prickle her belly. Taking a deep breath she attempted to soothe herself; experience had taught her that these frictions ended better if at least one of them was calm. “I don’t recall knowing you particularly well when we first befriended each other. In fact, if I remember rightly, you were a first class git in the beginning. Geoffrey, on the other hand, has been nothing but pleasant to me.”
“Geoffrey has been nothing but pleasant to me,” Ron imitated childishly. “Grow up, Hermione, how do you think a Death Eater would act if he was trying to get information out of you. He’s probably a spy sent in by Voldemort or something!”
“Ronald! How dare you!” she retorted angrily, calmness be damned. “Not everyone is an agent of Voldemort. It’s attitudes like yours that are giving him such a hard time “ half the school won’t even talk to him.”
“Well, you can’t blame them, can you?” Ron argued. “Haven’t you noticed the number of Muggleborns that haven’t come back this year?”
“Of course I have, Ron,” she uttered, very quietly. “Bypassing the fact that, as Head Girl, I’m responsible for these students, did you really expect me not to notice the missing ones?” When he didn’t reply, she continued coldly, “Well, let me make it clearer for you, shall I? Starting with the first years; Mandy Ecklesborough of Ravenclaw, Justin Shenton and Hannah Claydon of Hufflepuff and Dave Bystin of Gryffindor. Out of the second years, Lousie Armsley and Frank Fornby of Ravenclaw-“
“Okay, okay,” Ron muttered, “I get your point.” He shuffled awkwardly for a second. “Sorry.”
Hermione said nothing, but nodded very slightly, accepting it.
Ron ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply. “Look, I’m just saying, with everything that’s happening at the moment, you just can’t trust strangers.”
“Well, that’s where we differ then, Ron,” she replied, tightly. “You see, I believe that is just the sort of ignorant and judgemental view a Death Eater would take.”
Ron’s head shot up and his glare returned. “Now is not the time to be pretend to be all moral and good, Hermione. For Merlin’s sake, no one else has ever been admitted to Hogwarts late before and then suddenly he appears all la-de-da and we’re expected to believe this is normal?”
“Actually, Ronald, there a quite a few examples of transfer students, who have either arrived from other wizarding institutions or from home-schooling, detailed in ‘Hogwarts; a History’. Had you ever bothered to read it, you might have known that.”
Ron rolled his eyes and glared even more. In retrospect, Hermione thought, perhaps that had been a little patronising.
“Well, what about the fact that he refuses to say anything at all about why he’s joined the school now, or where he was before?”
“Perhaps he’s a private person. Had that fundamentally simple thought ever occurred to you?”
Ron folded his arms defiantly across his chest. “Fine, be like that.” He turned to walk away from her, but then his temper seemed to crack completely and he whirled back to face her.
“It’s like Krum all over again! This time it’s not secrets about some stupid contest he’s getting out of you, it’s a war!”
“I never- How dare you!” Hermione shrieked, completely enraged and utterly unable to form a sentence. Taking a calming breath, she coldly continued, “Firstly, I never told Victor a thing about Harry. Secondly, how dare you even suggest I would compromise this war effort-“
“Dunno, I’m sure lover-boy can be quite persuasive,” Ron returned, voice twisted in spite.
“How dare - oh, as if this morning I even entertained the idea that you could have grown up!”
“Whatever,” Ron said, turning away and stumping angrily in the direction of the stairs.
Hermione dearly wanted to hit him, but placated herself with punching a cushion on the chair next to Harry instead. Turning to her black-haired friend she opened her mouth to vent when he cut her off.
“Oi, don’t get me involved,” he said, holding his hands up. “I’m tired of mediating between you two “ you’ll just have to figure it out by yourselves.”
“Fine,” she said shortly, and, shaking with anger, managed somehow to climb the stairs to her room. Tearing off her clothes, she started to change quickly into her pyjamas, determined to go to sleep and think nothing more on Ronald Weasley. Just as she reached for the bedcovers, however, she noticed a white scrap of paper lying innocently upon her pillow.
You are too beautiful for words.
Those that surround you do nothing to deserve you.
Always, yours
X
Hermione felt a chill she couldn’t identify sweep down her spine. Clutching the note tightly, she glanced around the room. There was no one else present, however, and nothing seemed out of place. Still, only herself, Lavender and Parvati should have access to this room “ and she found it hard to believe such a series of notes had been penned by either of the girls.
Slightly unsettled, Hermione reasoned that either someone was being very nice and one of her roommates had let them into the room, or she was the object of a practical joke. Either way, neither would do her lasting harm “ unlike Ronald. Her fury returning, Hermione crumpled the scrap of paper and tossed it into her bedside drawer, before climbing into bed and pondering the many different methods she could use to retaliate against her one-time best friend.