To the Victors

Part 50

Harry didn't comment further after her birthday, but he eyed her every time Hermione made excuses to the boys. It wasn't that she didn't take his warning to heart; but she'd known their professor for just as long, and he'd never done anything to make her feel her trust was misplaced.

Well, not really. He'd always explained himself in the end.

In October, the Defense Club started up again. Everyone who had joined the year before was miles ahead of peers in their year. The first meet-up was a review of the basics, followed by a few weeks of students who'd already been members assisting the newer joins so they could catch up.

October also had the first Hogsmeade weekend.

It was unusually balmy when she and the boys left that morning. It was nearly eleven, so the third years, eager for their first visit, had already thinned out along the path.

"Headed to Scrivener's, Hermione?" Harry inquired when she peeled off; they'd stopped to gaze at a Quidditch-related display.

"Of course," she said.

He nodded. "I'll come with you."

Draco glanced up. "Meet at the Three Broomsticks in an hour?"

"Sure," Harry replied, and he and Hermione continued down the street.

She laughed at her friend as he threw an arm around her shoulder. "You know, I don't need a guard. I have a wand again." Hermione held up the rose vine wand in demonstration. It had been their one stop before King's Cross Station.

"I know," he assured her. "I wanted to come with."

"To the stationary shop? What, for a book?" That was why she went; the store had a small section for books, but she could never stay away.

He grinned. "You say that like you've never seen me with a book."

"It is a rather rare sight," Hermione admitted.

"Oi. I'm not Ron."

She rolled her eyes even as she giggled. "Has anyone ever told you that you're ridiculous, Harry Potter?"

"My mum, just about every morning until I came to Hogwarts, and nearly every morning I'm home, too." He parted from her to open the door.

Hermione was suddenly in her element. She trailed up and down the aisles, fingers brushing the shelves as she passed. Her favorite shelves were for used books, where hidden treasures could be found.

One particularly worn leather volume caught her eye. The title was too faded to read from its spine, so she eased it free to see the cover. Curses, Hexes, Jinxes: The Lost, the Remembered, the Found.

That was both ominous and exciting. She flipped to the table of content as the perfume of old book stirred around her.

"That seems rather dark."

She startled and shot Harry a glare. "It's just a book," Hermione muttered. "Knowledge itself has no morality; that's on the recipient."

"True, though having a tool accessible can make it more tempting," Harry countered.

"Yes, because I'm going to start throwing curses at you whenever you annoy me."

He raised empty palms. "Remind me not to upset you."

Hermione smacked him with the book. "You're incorrigible."

"Yes," he agreed with a ready grin. "I am."

Hermione continued her perusal of the book section with Harry's occasional commentary on whatever she checked. By the time she went to the register, her cheeks hurt from laughing.