NOTE:
Now for Hermione's Birthday, where this story's obsession with personal objects truly runs rampant. And it includes the first Slug Club gathering!
Love,
Thebe
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Hogwarts' unseasonably fine weather broke on Friday; Hermione could tell even before she saw the sullen clouds outside her bedroom window. Her bathroom mirror revealed a head of hair twice as large as usual, much like it was in Potions, a casualty of the sudden humidity. Her usual meditation and journal time was pissed away combing Speakeasy Hair Tonic through her curls and trying to confine them in a loose braid.
"Happy Birthday!" Ginny crowed, leaping out of bed. "Time for presents!" She pulled a stack of brightly wrapped gifts out of her wardrobe and put them on Hermione's bed.
Lavender came back from the bathroom, already dressed for the day. "Happy Birthday, Hermione," she said without enthusiasm.
"Staying for presents?" Ginny asked her.
Lavender picked up her bag. "Just looks like a bunch of books to me," she sneered and left the room.
"Bitch," Ginny muttered, sitting on Hermione's bed. "Come on—I happen to know they're not all books."
Hermione smiled as she joined Ginny. Lavender wasn't entirely wrong; most of the wrapped gifts had a suspiciously heavy, rectangular shape.
"Mine first," Ginny said, handing her a small, soft package. Hermione unwrapped it, stared down for a moment, then glared at Ginny.
"Really?" she asked.
"Hold it up," Ginny said, eyes dancing.
"I will not!"
"There's nobody else here."
Hermione glanced around anyway and held up a green silk brassiere.
"Matching knickers, too," Ginny said smugly. "You're dating a Slytherin now."
"I'm not dating a Slytherin!"
Ginny folded her legs under her. "Aren't you going to Hogsmeade with Theo Nott tomorrow?"
"Yes, before I meet Ron and Harry," Hermione said, tugging a dangling strap away from Crookshanks. "It's not a green lingerie situation."
"You never know," Ginny said wickedly. "Now open Ron's."
"It's probably a book," Hermione sighed. Ron always gave her books. Last year's birthday book was about the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team, and he borrowed it from her right away and never returned it.
"I know for a fact it's not," Ginny said, handing her a small box.
"Did he pick this gift or did you?" Hermione asked, unwrapping it.
Ginny shook her head. "Wasn't even there."
Hermione eyed the small velvet box suspiciously, wondering what she would find. Earrings? A diamond pendant? Godric forbid—a ring? She took a deep breath and opened it.
"Well?" Ginny asked."It's jewelry, right?"
"It is a golden pin," Hermione admitted.
"At least it's not a book, right?"
Hermione turned the open box around so Ginny could see. "It's a pin shaped like a book," she said flatly.
"Oh." Ginny flushed slightly and sighed. "Well, progress."
"Ginny."
"Ron's just rubbish with gifts, last year he gave me handkerchiefs—"
"Ginny." Hermione snapped the box shut. "There's nothing to say. That is how he sees me."
"It's not all he—"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You know it's true. It's not meant to be. Why else would you be giving me Slytherin underwear?"
Ginny looked at her hands, a curtain of red hair falling around her face. Hermione pushed a lock behind her friend's left ear and smiled. "It's okay, Gin. It's a good gift from a friend and that's what Ron and I are. Now, let's open my parents' gift." She held up the little box and card that her parents had slipped into her trunk before she left for school.
This box held a beautiful heart-shaped sapphire (her birthstone) on a silver chain. The card was signed: "In memory of the happiest day of our lives. Love, Mum and Dad."
Hermione sniffled and held the box to her chest. They forgave her. She had erased their memories and packed them off to the other side of the world, all without their consent, but her parents still loved her and they forgave her. She let Ginny fasten the chain around her neck and tucked the sapphire inside her uniform shirt. The tiny weight on her chest lightened her heart.
"Now time for Harry's ... oooh," Ginny said as Hermione opened her third gift. Inside was a heavy silver otter about the size of her fist, curled up and sleeping. "It's a paperweight," Hermione breathed. "I saw a hedgehog one in Diagon Alley."
"Wow," Ginny said.
Hermione hopped off the bed and picked it up, placing it on a stack of parchment on her desk. The silver otter stretched and yawned and curled up again. It was such a perfect gift, bookish yet personal. Harry must have ordered it by owl to match her Patronus.
"What's that?" Ginny asked from the bed. "On your desk."
Hermione suddenly noticed another present on the desk, tucked near the window sill. She picked up the flat, heavy, silver-wrapped package and brought it to her bed.
"Theo?" Ginny asked, touching its shining green ribbon.
"I don't know." Hermione would have liked to think it was Theo, but she had a darker suspicion.
"Aren't you going to open it?"
Yes, best to get it over with. Hermione untied the ribbon with suddenly clumsy fingers and pulled away the silvery paper to reveal a wide, black velvet box. She looked at Ginny, who stared back wide-eyed. Hermione cracked open the box and the two women stared at its contents.
"Merlin," Ginny breathed.
Nestled in grey silk was a jeweled hair clip, exquisitely delicate, with a single diamond in the center surrounded by diamond-studded silver wires shaped like rose petals. Accompanying the clip were two matching, diamond-studded hairpins.
"How did this box get here?" Hermione asked, looking around. "Ginny?"
Ginny shook her head. "I collected the rest of the gifts, but I never saw this one."
Hermione rummaged through the paper. "No tag or card."
Ginny bit her lip. "Theo?" she asked again.
"Maybe." Or maybe not. Theo had been very cautious so far and this was ... bold. Theo didn't know where her room was, either. Someone else did, though.
Ginny was fingering the green ribbon. "You don't think ..." Her breath caught. "Malfoy?"
Hermione shrugged.
"It could be," Ginny said, looking at the hair clip appraisingly. "Extravagant ..."
"Inappropriate," Hermione said.
"Impractical ... I mean, has he seen your hair?"
Hermione picked up a hairpin and inspected it closely. Such a delicate accessory would be perfect for a Slytherin girl's smooth, fine, never-mussed hair. Defiantly, she tucked the pin into the right side of her head, where it vanished instantly into her curls.
Ginny laughed. "You'd need a dozen of those to hold up one side!" She sobered suddenly. "How would he get the box in here?"
Hermione shrugged and placed the diamond set carefully in her trunk. Malfoy had proven himself resourceful enough.
Ginny eyed her sharply, then dropped the subject. "Come on! Let's open all your books!"
***
Ron was in the common room when Hermione and Ginny came down, and immediately noticed his gold book pin on Hermione's jumper. "Alright, then?" he asked, coming up to her.
"Yes," she smiled. "Thank you." She stood up on tiptoe and kissed Ron on the cheek.
"Ow!" Ron said.
"What?" Hermione asked. "Did I step on your foot?"
"No, I touched your head and ... ow!" Ron sucked on his finger.
Ginny snickered. "You'll live, Ron. Come on, we'll be late to breakfast."
Hermione dithered throughout the meal, debating whether to acknowledge Malfoy's gift. In the end, she decided not to—if the man wanted a proper thank you, he could include a card or tag like a normal person. Malfoy kept his distance in Ancient Runes and was well-behaved in Potions, which Hermione considered an even better birthday gift. Until, unfortunately, Malfoy noticed the book pin.
"What's that on your jumper, Granger?" he asked wide-eyed. "A torn bit of firewhiskey label? Had a little morning tipple on your birthday?" Lavender giggled as Ron turned red.
"It's a pin, Malfoy," Hermione said calmly, stirring their potion. Slughorn had them brewing perfume to dispel any lingering blood potion odors, so now she had a headache and her hair was coming out of its braid from the steam and she was in no mood for his games.
"A pin?" Malfoy leaned forward, his own slightly damp hair falling into his eyes. She had a sudden urge to smooth it back. And then slap his face. It was very disturbing. "What kind of pin?" he continued. "It looks like a tiny box of biscuits."
Lavender giggled again. Hermione ignored him, but Ron fell right into the trap.
"It's a book, you git," he snapped.
"A book? A book pin?" Malfoy's face lit up. "A birthday present from the Weasel, Granger? How romantic. A truly personal gift."
Hermione rolled her eyes to the heavens and silently bewailed to the unjust gods. Really? Was this to be her fate? To be trapped at a Potions table while Draco Malfoy crowed over the superiority of his secret birthday gift compared to Ron's? What had she ever done to deserve this?
Tamping down her silent hysteria, Hermione cast Malfoy a hooded look. "I think it's a lovely pin, a very thoughtful gift," she said with a smile. She took Ron's hand, which lay on the table between them, and held it. "I'm proud to wear it," she purred, looking into Ron's eyes.
Ron looked smug. Malfoy decanted their perfumed potion into a bottle and pounded in the cork with his fist. Hermione wondered if she'd slightly overstated her love for the book pin—would she have to wear it every day now? Looking at Malfoy's scowl, she thought it might be worth it.
Theo caught up with her outside the Potions classroom. "I hear it's your birthday," he said with a smile.
"Yes, I'm 19 today," she said.
"Happy Birthday, then. I wish I'd known sooner. I would have gotten you something."
"It's fine," Hermione said with great sincerity.
"Well, we can celebrate tomorrow," Theo said, brushing a curl off her face. He frowned, looking down at his hand, but just then a cloud of perfume billowed out the Potions dungeons door, prompting students to scatter. Hermione hurried up the stairs. Hopefully Theo wouldn't give her a book tomorrow. Or a book charm. Or a scarf with little books embroidered on it.
***
"Which of these should I wear?" Ginny asked, holding up two dresses.
"Just pick one," Hermione said shortly. "Slughorn's stupid dinner starts in fifteen minutes."
"What about your hair?" Ginny asked. She threw aside the green dress from the Gryffindor party and unzipped a black lace one.
"What about it?" Hermione asked, stripping off her uniform.
Ginny pointed at the bedroom's full-length mirror and Hermione groaned. Her hair was a frizzy mess from the day's humidity.
"It's weird," Ginny said. "Your whole head went crazy except for the part with that diamond hairpin. It's still in there somewhere, right?"
"What?" Hermione stepped up to the full-length mirror on the wardrobe to look more closely. Ginny was right; the hair on one side of her head was still smoothed back in a thick wave and pinned while the rest had completely freaked out.
"I'm starting to think those pins aren't so impractical after all," Ginny said thoughtfully.
"Well, I'm not wearing them," Hermione said, yanking out the diamond pin. The right side of her head immediately puffed out. "Aaaargh!"
Ginny laughed so hard she could hardly put her dress on. "Do it again!"
"No," Hermione snapped, pulling on her own blue velvet dress, chosen to match her parents' sapphire pendant. "It's not funny," she said, glaring at Ginny's smooth golden-red head. "I need better girlfriends."
"I'm an excellent girlfriend," Ginny said, zipping her up. "Your dress looks beautiful. And your parents' necklace."
Hermione picked up her sweater. "Should I wear Ron's pin?"
"Godric, no. Go get that diamond hair set."
"No." Hermione had her own reasons not to wear that clip and pins. "It'll be fine."
"It will not be fine and we don't have hours to tame those curls." Ginny bullied Hermione over to her trunk and made her take out the flat box. "Give me that, and sit down."
"There's something weird about these pins," Hermione said, eyes narrowed, as Ginny tugged at her curls with a brush. "Hey!"
"Don't be a baby. Where's my wand?"
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, trying to turn toward the mirror.
"Stop moving ... there!" Ginny stepped back.
"You're finished? Already?" Hermione was surprised. She stood and walked over to the mirror.
An amazing sight greeted her. The deep-blue velvet dress, sleeveless with a low, square neckline, perfectly complemented the sapphire pendant on its short silver chain. Her hair, amazingly, was smoothly pulled back on the sides and twisted securely in the back, with pins and hair clip subtly peeping out between the curls.
Hermione groaned. "This totally sends the wrong message," she said, looking at herself. "You should have heard Malfoy in Potions this morning."
"What did he say?"
"He said Ron's pin looked like a torn-off firewhiskey label."
Ginny snickered.
"It's not funny and you're a terrible person." Hermione looked back at her image and sighed. "I am, too."
"Nonsense, let's go," Ginny said, propelling her toward the door. "We're late."
***
The Potions dungeon had been transformed; the tables and cauldrons had vanished and shimmering tapestries covered the stone walls. Flowers bloomed from vases (probably to mask any lingering potion odors) and candles flickered from ornate, standing candelabras, adding to the romantic scene. A long, rectangular dining table dominated one end of the cavernous space, sparkling with crystal and china, while couples danced to floating instruments on the other side.
Blaise appeared instantly at Hermione and Ginny's entrance, looking impossibly handsome in dark green robes. He paid them a few graceful compliments and spirited Ginny away right under Slughorn's nose, leaving Hermione with their host. Slughorn's ermine-lined robe of green brocade clashed horribly with his shiny red nose. (He'd obviously been drinking heavily from his giant goblet.) The professor's compliments were considerably less graceful than Blaise's and he spoke at length about "beauty and brilliance" while introducing her to the Ministry's Head of Departmental Communications and its Deputy Head of Sports. Quidditch and the media were not Hermione's favorite topics of conversation, and she slipped away as soon as Slughorn turned to greet Gryffindor's Cormac McLaggen.
She edged toward the back wall, curious about the scenes on the tapestries, and literally bumped into Malfoy, who had apparently chosen Lurking Behind Candelabras as his social strategy for the evening.
Hermione rocked back on her heels, staring up at him. Like Blaise, Malfoy was perfectly suited to such a setting, his hair and steel-grey robes shining in the candlelight, which also played off his cheekbones and the line of his jaw. He was evidently in a brooding mood, his eyes distant, much like when she watched him from the sofa the night of the Gryffindor party.
He was also silent. No snarky "where's the Weasel?" or caustic comment about her clumsiness, he just looked down at her for a moment, then extended his hand. She didn't hesitate, just took it, almost in a daze, and let him lead her to the dancing area. His other hand slid around her waist and he drew her into a waltz.
The lilting music and heavy smell of cut flowers washed over her. The last time she'd waltzed among flowers and candlelight had been Bill and Fleur's wedding. The music especially brought her back to that night, the free-floating terror swirling around the dancers, finally taking shape in the form of Kingsley's lynx Patronus landing in their midst: "Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."
Malfoy slowed his steps. "You're trembling," he whispered in her ear.
Hermione looked up at him. "The last time I heard this waltz ..." She swallowed. "It was the night the Ministry fell." She didn't know why she told him that. She expected him to look away, ignore her words, perhaps even leave, but Malfoy looked down at her steadily with that odd, open expression.
"The air," she went on, "it smelled of roses that night, too."
His arm tightened around her. Whatever Malfoy's own memories were of that dark summer, or his thoughts of a Ministry still eager to send him to Azkaban, those grey eyes held nothing but reassurance. "It's all right," he whispered, pulling her closer. "We're all right now. All right." His words sounded like a mantra, something he had oft repeated to himself. The scent of his cologne and that warm sunshine smell surrounded her. She wanted to lay her cheek on his robes, close her eyes, and breathe it in. It was unreal: Malfoys were supposed to cause distress, not alleviate it.
They continued to waltz gently, neither wanting to break the spell. Malfoy danced effortlessly, like he was born to it, which Hermione supposed he was. He led her so subtly she hardly noticed it, yet she hadn't stumbled once, which had to be a record. She began to feel that strange connection they'd shared while brewing the Fiducia potion, with their breaths and heartbeats synchronized as well as their steps. The chatter and laughter around them seemed to fade away.
"You look beautiful tonight," Malfoy whispered above her right ear. His breath stirred her curls.
So do you, Hermione thought. But she said nothing.
"Having a good birthday?" he asked, carefully polite. His eyes lingered on her sapphire pendant—and perhaps lower—until Hermione could feel the heat spread down her neck.
"Yes," she answered, sounding a little breathy. Then something occurred to her and she backed away slightly. "How did you do it?"
He smiled. "How do you think I did it?"
"You flew to the window," she answered. "Vanished the pane."
"Ten points to Gryffindor." He smirked. "You could say thank you, you know."
She smirked right back. "Draco Malfoy, teaching me manners."
"Apparently, I need to."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh yes, you're eminently qualified. Because taunting people about their gifts is the epitome of good manners."
Malfoy gave her a look that reminded her of his father. "Good manners don't apply to the Weasel."
"Good manners apply to everyone."
"Then I'm still waiting for my thank you."
"Thank you for your very thoughtful birthday gift," she said in a singsong voice.
A muscle tightened in Malfoy's jaw at the word "thoughtful," but he let it go. He released her hand and ran a light finger over one of the hairpins before taking the hand back again. His grip was light and warm, and she could feel his palm rough against her knuckles.
"Just perfect," he said smugly.
Hermione shook her head. "It's too much, really."
"Nonsense, nothing's too good for Gryffindor's Princess." He grinned, knowing she hated that title. Hermione looked away, huffing, to see Neville entering the dungeons, wearing dress robes of dark red. Behind him was Astoria, shining in pale blue satin and long white gloves.
"My mother enjoyed speaking with you yesterday." Malfoy was shifting back to small talk. "She gives you her best."
Hermione frowned. "Did you tell her about my letter to the Wizengamot?"
"I assure you, I did not."
"Well, then I'm surprised by her—"
"Let's not discuss my mother," he said, his jaw tight.
"You're the one who brought her up."
"I was being polite," he hissed.
"Well, you need more practice," she hissed back.
"Miss Granger! Mr. Malfoy! Come join us!" Slughorn was calling from the head of the table. The other dancers were leaving the floor and moving toward the table.
Hermione stepped away from Malfoy, flushing slightly. She moved toward an empty chair near the foot of the table, but Malfoy reached it first and pulled it out for her, and it was all she could do not to gape at him. People were staring now, but Hermione managed to sit down without tripping or knocking over a glass, an accomplishment she felt deserved congratulations. Malfoy took a seat beside her like it was the natural way of the world, and Slughorn toasted the "illustrious company."
"And my undying gratitude to Miss Hermione Granger, who so generously joins us on the day of her birth! Happy Birthday, my dear!" the professor cried.
The whole table toasted Hermione, which she found ridiculously embarrassing. Blaise widened his grin as he raised his glass and Ginny crossed her eyes. And then, thankfully, it was time for the first course, and the conversation became general. Her relief was short-lived, though, when she realized that she was seated between Malfoy and Cormac and across from Her Majesty Astoria.
"Hermione," Cormac rumbled, breathing brandy all over her neck. "You look absolutely stunning." His hand appeared on the back of her chair, his fingers brushing against her skin.
She leaned forward. "Thank you, Cormac. Are you playing Quidditch this year?"
Cormac frowned. "No." He'd never gotten over losing his bid for Keeper to Ron in Fourth Year (although he didn't know Hermione had had a hand in it) and then he'd lost out to Ron again this year, loudly claiming that Ginny favored her brother. "I prefer to concentrate on my NEWTs."
"That's very good to hear," Hermione said approvingly. "I'm glad you joined my study group."
He grinned. "I would never turn down PORN."
"Pupil Organization to Review Newts," she corrected. She heard Malfoy snicker on her other side and turned to him. "And not a word from you either. You'll all thank me when the exams arrive this spring."
"We're thanking you now," Malfoy said. "I can't think of a better name."
Hermione took a sip of wine. Cormac's hand left her chair to brush against the back of her neck. "I haven't wished you a Happy Birthday yet, Hermione," he said. "Perhaps we could ... celebrate ... later tonight."
Malfoy stiffened beside Hermione, who again leaned forward to avoid Cormac's touch. She found herself staring at Astoria's perfect face above a long rope of pearls that twined loosely around the woman's throat and bosom like a snake.
"Draco," Astoria said, drawing out the two syllables. "I enjoyed my tea with your mother yesterday. I hope she had a nice visit."
"She did, thank you," Malfoy said.
"Narcissa was quite pleased to see you fully recovered from your injury. But I agree with her that you mustn't overexert yourself."
Malfoy took a sip of wine. "There's little danger of that, Astoria."
"Narcissa is a very wise woman," Astoria continued. "She had some excellent thoughts about your post-Hogwarts career."
"Since when does the new Lord Malfoy need a career?" asked Justin Finch-Fletchley, who sat beside Astoria. He looked quite refined in black and gold robes, his curly, dark blond hair smoothed back from a high forehead, but the cold glitter in his eyes looked strange on a Hufflepuff.
"Looks like all is forgiven, after all," Justin continued. "He can just sit in his manor and count his money as if nothing ever happened."
"Justin," Hermione said.
"What, you're going to defend him, Hermione?" Justin asked, eyebrows raised. "After what happened to you at his home?"
Malfoy set down his wine goblet with enough force to rattle the china. Without looking at him, Hermione reached under the lace tablecloth to touch his left wrist lightly with her fingers. She felt Malfoy relax slightly.
"This isn't the time or place, Justin," she said coolly, releasing Malfoy's wrist. "It's disrespectful to Professor Slughorn."
"All right," the Hufflepuff said, his prissy mouth pursed in distaste. "But some of us will never forget."
"I hear Hogwarts will be hosting a Halloween Festival on the grounds," Astoria said brightly to the man on her left. "Sounds lovely. Do you need any help organizing, Ernie?"
Ernie looked glum as he crunched a breadstick. "Yes, all the help I can get. The prefects have been useless."
"I love organizing social events," Astoria said, smiling brilliantly at Malfoy.
Hermione wanted to roll her eyes, but she was actually grateful to Astoria for turning the conversation. Justin laid off Malfoy for the rest of the dinner, but it was still interminable, and Cormac wouldn't give up.
"So, Hermione," he murmured. "What will it take, hmmm?" His hand ran up her spine, to the back of her neck and into her curls this time.
"Ah!" Cormac gasped, snatching back his hand. He pressed his napkin against a jagged tear on his palm.
"Oh dear," Hermione said. "How did that happen? Hold still, now." She healed Cormac's wound with her wand while Malfoy snickered.
Cormac kept his hands to himself after that, but she was still relieved when the dinner ended and she could escape to a corner with Neville. "Cormac's headed this way, don't leave me with him," she instructed. "And keep me away from Justin and Ernie, too. And Slughorn. Oh, and those two Ministry luminaries Slughorn brought."
"Are there any men here that you like?" Neville asked.
She shrugged. "You. Blaise, maybe." She didn't mention Malfoy. "Oh, and keep me away from Astoria, too."
"Looks like she and Malfoy might be on again," Neville said, tilting his head toward the fireplace, where the two stood close in conversation. Astoria's icy blue dress shimmered against Malfoy's grey robes. "Rumor has it his mother came to Hogwarts yesterday to look her over."
Ginny stepped up with Blaise, her cheeks red from either wine or the wizard by her side. "Hermione, Blaise says it's time for a real party, in the Slytherin common room. Neville, we need you, too."
"Thank you, Blaise," Hermione said, "but I have to be at the Potions Lab tomorrow morning ..."
"And I have to set up the Quidditch pitch for practice at 7 a.m.," Ginny said. "Live a little, both of you."
"You'd be very welcome, Longbottom," Blaise said. "And Hermione, always."
"Come on, Hermione," Ginny wheedled. "Excellent liquor, no Cormac or Justin there."
"That is a plus," Hermione admitted.
"Hermione hates all men tonight except for you and me, Zabini," Neville said.
"Even Malfoy?" Ginny teased. Hermione gave her a warning frown.
"It looks like Astoria will keep him busy," Blaise said, glancing over at the couple by the fireplace. Astoria's gloved hand was on Malfoy's arm now. Blaise's dark eyes returned to hold Hermione's. "Please come."
There was no resisting that pull (honestly, she couldn't fault Ginny for being intrigued), so Hermione found herself drinking with the Slytherins in their spooky, green-draped common room in the dungeons. She sat beside Neville on a sofa, pounding any drink given to her and trying not to watch the entrance. Neither Malfoy nor Astoria made an appearance, and Theo had apparently gone off to Hogsmeade on his own. Neville practically had to carry Hermione back to Gryffindor Tower, and stood with her at the stairs to the girls' dorms, looking concerned.
"I'm fine, Nev," she said, patting his shoulder. "Thank you."
"Hermione," he said, keeping his voice low. "What is going on with you? You look miserable."
"What do I have to be miserable about?" she asked. "We won, I'm alive, you and Harry and Ron and Ginny are alive, I have a charming Slytherin whose family didn't have Voldemort as a house guest taking me to lunch tomorrow." She sat heavily on the staircase. "I'm a war heroine, remember? I'm going to get all Outstandings on my NEWTs and go on to change the wizarding world. I'm the last person to be miserable."
"But Hermione, you're crying," Neville said, handing her a handkerchief.
"T-Tears of joy ..."
Neville sighed and wrapped an arm around her as she sobbed how happy she was until Ginny came back.
"This is not good," Ginny said, pulling Hermione to her feet. "Hermione, come on. Yes, yes, you're very happy."
"How long can she go on like this?" Neville asked.
"As long as she has to," Ginny answered grimly. "I don't know how this is going to turn out."
"You two keep worrying but I'm happy," Hermione said as Ginny dragged her upstairs. "And Neville!"
Neville looked up at her.
"Thank you. I love you, Neville, even though you gave me a book for my birthday."
"It's a very interesting book," Neville said. "About magical rainforest plants."
"Yes, riveting," Ginny said, still pushing her upwards. "Come on, Hermione. Thank Godric your birthday only comes once a year."
Notes:
NEXT UP: Hogsmeade!
Ron bounced excitedly in his seat. "Did Hermione tell you about PORN?" he asked Harry.
Harry blinked. "What? No, I kind of found it on my own ..."