After Hermione revived Justin from the Stunning Spell, the Head Boy insisted on escorting her to Gryffindor Tower. The usual Saturday night common room party was in full swing, with the Hufflepuff a welcome guest. Hermione answered a cold question from Ginny about the D.A. galleons and Justin accepted two butterbeers from Seamus.
Hermione sank into a loveseat and took two gulps of her bottle, savoring the icy coldness down her throat. She felt flushed and off-kilter. Malfoy had been right: Tennant had followed Justin and lain in wait for her. And Malfoy then ... Stunned Tennant? It was hard to believe, but the evidence had been indisputably laid out on the third-floor corridor. Death Eater Stunning traps did not include buttercups.
She found herself stroking a leaf of the Cringing Vine, which was spreading out from its red pot atop a small table. A thin branch coiled over the loveseat's armrest. Neville had apparently acclimated the plant enough so it could sit out on its own among people.
Justin, on the other hand, was far less comfortable. He stood over her, looking every inch the disapproving Head Boy in his argyle sweater, his mouth pursed so tightly that it had almost disappeared from his face.
"Sit down, Justin, for Godric's sake." Hermione patted the loveseat cushion.
Justin took a seat beside her and twisted off his butterbeer cap. He held his hand out for Hermione's, then set down the two bottlecaps with finicky precision.
A wave of raucous laughter erupted near the fireplace, punctuated with small blasts from a nearby Exploding Snap game. Hermione smiled to see the First Years pretending to wandlessly launch wads of paper through a hoop with sleight-of-hand throws.
Justin's expression, however, remained grim. "Maybe I didn't see it," he said, continuing their earlier conversation, "but I know that Death Eater Stunned me in the classroom."
Hermione privately agreed but couldn't say so. "Why would he do that?" she hedged. "As you can see, I'm perfectly fine."
"He's Draco Malfoy," Justin said, as if that explained everything. When Hermione didn't answer, he continued. "He didn't want me there. He threatened to throw me off the Astronomy Tower if I insisted on meeting you!"
Hermione was shocked. "He didn't!"
Justin stiffened, offended that she would doubt him. "He most certainly did. This very afternoon, in fact."
"He never would have thrown you off the Astronomy Tower," Hermione said stoutly.
"He's Draco Malfoy."
Well, yes, he was. They drank their butterbeer in silence, Hermione now gulping from her bottle, Justin sipping from a glass he'd conjured. Malfoy had tried to put Justin off the meeting, and when that failed, he tried to warn Hermione. And then he'd .... Stunned Justin. And Tennant.
Hermione looked around the room as she tried to make sense of it all. Seamus was losing a chess game to Michael Corner. The scene reminded her of the nights watching Harry and Ron play chess while she knitted hats for S.P.E.W. A lifetime ago.
"Will you tell the Headmistress?" Hermione asked Justin. She hadn't yet decided what to do about Tennant, but she didn't need the Head Boy's interference. And she certainly didn't need Malfoy shipped back to Azkaban.
"Not at this time," Justin said, as if his judgment was all that mattered. "I'll admit I have no evidence. I do, however, reserve the right to report his behavior at my discretion."
Hermione rolled her eyes. It was very kind and fair of him not to report Malfoy, but he didn't have to be so Justin about it.
"One thing is for sure," Justin pronounced, "there will be no more meeting in classrooms. As Head Boy, I feel responsible for your security."
She nodded. "We could meet in the Hufflepuff basement."
"We can't fix the clock in the common room," he pointed out. "Too many Pygmy Puffs bouncing about."
"Your bedroom, maybe," Hermione said without thinking.
Justin blinked. "That would be quite improper."
Hermione flushed. Of course. Her nights with Malfoy were playing hell with her moral standards.
Justin drew his wand and cast a quick Muffiliato. "Hermione," he said gently. "I am quite flattered by your interest."
"I wasn't—"
His fluting voice overrode hers. "But you must understand that as Head Boy I hold myself to a strict code of conduct with women."
"Of course," Hermione agreed, hoping to end the topic.
No such luck. "You must consider your reputation." Justin poured more butterbeer into his glass. "I know Gryffindors can be ... er, heated ... and impetuous." He eyed Pavarti, who was tucked into a window seat with Dean Thomas. Then he turned back to Hermione. "But we owe it to ourselves to control our baser instincts."
"Justin, that's fine," Hermione said. More than fine—she couldn't imagine why he was ever in the RAW. He really thought she wanted to seduce him in that creepy classroom? What kind of loon would do that?
"Hermione, I hope you will always count me as a friend, and I urge you to resist your very natural attraction to my ..."
"That's fine," Hermione repeated, annoyed. "I was just thinking of a secure place to meet."
She couldn't start anything up with Justin even if she wanted to. Not while she was in Malfoy's bed every night. Even if they weren't ... She felt her cheeks heating, thinking of that phantom kiss in the first-floor alcove.
Justin, of course, misinterpreted her blush. He was smirking behind his glass now, quite chuffed by what he saw as her clumsy attempt at seduction.
"I have an excellent book on proper wizarding courtship rituals, Hermione," he said. "I could loan it to you. It's a useful little holdover from Victorian times—the man properly takes the lead in such matters and I like to follow cultural mores whenever ..."
"Justin, for Merlin's sake—"
"I feel a moral imperative to offer the guidance you—"
"I don't need guidance!" Hermione heard a rustling beside her; her raised voice had upset the Cringing Vine, which was curling into its pot.
Justin gave her a rare smirk—quite un-Hufflepuff. "Then that lovely camellia in your hair is just a coincidence."
Hermione blinked. "That lovely what in my hair?"
"Forgive me, please." Justin brushed her curls with one hand, and came away holding a fat red flower.
"Don't be embarrassed, Hermione, it's very flattering," he said, handing it back to her. "But perhaps a bit forward. A daisy might have served you better."
"I didn't ..." Hermione began, then sighed and gave it up. She didn't know why she had a camellia blossom in her hair, but she had her suspicions, and honestly, weirder things had happened to her in this castle.
She put down her butterbeer. "It's getting late."
Justin took the hint and rose, setting his glass on a table and removing the Muffialito. Hermione barely stopped herself from grabbing the Head Boy's arm to drag him to the exit. Who knew what he would make of such harlot behavior.
They stopped again in the outside corridor, out of earshot of the Fat Lady. "Be careful going back," she told Justin. "It's a long way to the basement."
"I can look after myself," Justin said, clearly not liking the reminder of his earlier Stunning. He frowned down at her. "Watch yourself around Malfoy."
"I'm not afraid of him," Hermione said.
Justin gave her a stern look. "And I'll be owling you that book. Remember, not all wizards are honorable."
"You don't say." Hermione's temper was fraying. "Why don't you tell me all about evil and villainy, Justin, since I was so sheltered during the war."
"This is different, this is ..."
"I can handle Malfoy," Hermione insisted.
Justin shook his head. "Gryffindors. Always rushing into danger. As a young witch, you ..." Hermione's glare intensified and he cleared his throat.
"I'm just trying to help," he said gently.
Hermione sighed. Hufflepuffs were impossible to stay mad at.
"I know," she said. "And thank you." Justin walked off with a nod, still a bit offended.
She eyed the red flower in her hand curiously, then tucked it back in her curls before reentering the common room and heading upstairs.
Her bedroom was a scene of utter chaos. Crookshanks was chasing a tiny grey owl, knocking over lamps and knickknacks. The cat had a gleam in its golden eyes that indicated dinnertime, but the owl saw the whole thing as a game, hooting as it zigged and zagged, a thin scroll dangling from its leg.
"Pig!" Hermione cried. "Crooks, stop that this instant!"
Crookshanks was on her desk now, ready to pounce as Pig hovered over the mantle, hooting louder at the sight of Hermione.
"Stop it, Crookshanks!" Hermione repeated. "Come here, Pig." The owl flew to Hermione's shoulder, where it perched like a Pygmy Puff.
"Now, Pig," Hermione said, stroking the downy owl with a finger. "You mustn't tease Crookshanks so." She tugged the scroll off Pig's leg.
It was a letter from Ron, to her utter amazement. After months of silence, why was Ron writing now?
Hermione,
Hope things are alright at Hogwarts. It's been quite busy at the store. Had to leave the Aurors, the training was mental and the food was terrible and everyone called me Terrier. Harry stayed because he likes to suffer and his Patronus has a decent name.
Hermione dropped down to sit on the floor, her legs weak. Harry? Did Ron and Harry reconcile? When did that happen? Did Ron suffer a head injury during Auror training? She swallowed hard and read on.
If that wasn't bad enough, Mum did something to her clock. It's mad sensitive now and the hands spin at the littlest thing. George went down the wrong aisle at the joke shop and the clock showed LOST and Mum turned up shouting. The first time I got bruised in training, my clock hand spun to MORTAL PERIL and Mum stormed the Head Auror's office.
Bill keeps sneaking into the Burrow to try and do something about it. I guess goblins don't like Mum popping into Gringotts every time he gets a paper cut. But not even Bill can reset the clock—it's fiendish magic, that.
Hermione couldn't help smiling. It was so like Ron to write such a letter, rambling about his family as if nothing had ever gone wrong between them. A tightness she'd been carrying in her chest eased slightly. And she couldn't help giggling at the image of Bill the Big Bad Curse Breaker unable to break his mum's spell.
Anyway, I'm writing because there's going to be an article in the Prophet tomorrow and Sue says I have to. Skeeter is saying I'm dating Susan Bones and she's right for once.
Sue left the Auror program too, her heart wasn't in it even though her whole family died. She's studying to be a Healer. I don't know how the Prophet found out we're dating, it's not like we do much, just stay in and eat fish and chips.
Hope you like being at Hogwarts again. Sounds worse than Auror training, but at least you're getting a nice quiet school year.
Ron
Hermione stared at the parchment in her hands. Ron had never written her such a long letter. Ever. Susan Bones? Why hadn't Hermione thought of her? The Hufflepuff was perfect for Ron. He must truly care for Susan to forgive Hermione and Harry like that.
A little cheep sounded under her chin. Pig was cuddling against her neck, responding to Hermione's change of mood. Crookshanks snarled from the desk.
"We're friends again," she told the owl. Merlin, she loved Hufflepuffs. Even Justin and Ernie Macmillan (who was strutting around the castle full of wedding plans. His fiancée was a saint). Hermione would send Susan and Ron a fruit and candy basket tomorrow, although Ron would eat most of it.
Hermione held the scroll close to her chest and began to cry. Pig nuzzled her neck. "He doesn't hate me," she whispered.
She felt something brush on her denims and opened her eyes to see Crookshanks curled up beside her, a paw on her leg. "Good boy, Crooky," she whispered and petted him. "We're all friends, okay?" She sniffled. "Everybody's friends."
Hermione didn't know how long she sat there, crying and rereading her letter and petting the owl and cat. But the sky was black outside by the time she came to herself again. Her heart felt lighter, shedding some of its weight of guilt and sadness and hopelessness. Every word of that letter meant so much. Ron didn't hate her. Susan had ferreted out that sweetness and loyalty that was purely Ron. Hermione would send them a really big basket.
She sat at her desk, its surface cluttered with scattered parchment and overturned picture frames, courtesy of Crookshanks.
Dear Ron and Susan,
Thank you for your letter. This is excellent news. George is so lucky to you at the store, Ron. Susan, you'll be a wonderful Healer ...
Hermione wrote a paragraph of upbeat news and how her classes were quite interesting, thank you very much. She even included a few lines about her Astrarium clock (so Ron could roll his eyes and call her 'swot'), and some of Trelawney's antics in Divination (leaving out the bit about Malfoy being her partner, of course).
Then she tied the letter to Pig's leg and gave both animals a talking-to about proper behavior. Crookshanks curled up into a ball on her bed, ignoring her, and Pig just twittered, excited to be flying again.
After releasing the owl out the window, Hermione picked up her beaded bag and walked over to the Foe-Glass. Ron wasn't the only Weasley who was important. The mirror's image remained faint and shadowy except for that twitching dark form peeking out from behind the spiderweb of cracks. She stepped forward, trying to see better, her nose nearly touching the glass, but the shape remained cloudy.
Turning away, Hermione placed the open bag on the floor. The Foe-Glass was heavy for its size, and she worried about cracking it further, so she wrapped it in a cushioning spell before tucking it into the bag. It was time to talk to Ginny.
NEXT UP: Hermione cringes, and so does Neville's plant.