Chapter 4
Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the classroom speaking to Anthony Goldstein with a look of extreme patience. About half the class had already left, but the Slytherins in the table next to her were having the strangest debate.
Usually, Hermione would be paying attention to McGonagall's conversation just in case they discussed something interesting. However, currently her willpower was focused on not bursting out laughing as she listened to the conversation at the Slytherin table.
"No, you don't understand, then my wood would be wood!" Theo said enthusiastically.
"You'd give yourself splinters," Malfoy responded drily.
Harry had slid his stuff as far away from them as possible and was packing up rapidly. "I'm not part of this conversation." He said resolutely, his eyes averted.
Poor Harry, that really was too much to deal with on a Monday. Hermione pressed her lips together, trying not to giggle at them. Her eyes met Harry's, and he smiled at her and then rolled his eyes.
"No, no, you're not going to turn your—" Malfoy said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"Turn your what, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall came and looked down, her glasses sliding down her nose.
"My—" Theo began and Malfoy, who had turned so red, Hermione was concerned for him, slapped a hand over Theo's mouth before he could complete the sentence.
"We'll be going now, Professor," Harry said, managing to keep a straight face, and shoved both Draco and Theo toward the door. He gave one last smiling glance at Hermione before he exited.
McGonagall's stern expression slipped into something almost wistful as the boys disappeared from her classroom. Hermione was surprised at the softness in her expression.
She glanced at Hermione, murmuring," He reminds me of his father sometimes."
"Harry?"
McGonagall nodded. "James Potter was always the leader, whether that be getting his friends in trouble or out of trouble. They look so much alike, too … although…"
Hermione waited for her to finish, and when she didn't, she prompted her. "Although…?"
McGonagall frowned. "There's a seriousness in Harry that his father never had. But I guess that's to be expected; they had such different lives."
Meaning James Potter hadn't been raised in an abusive household, then gone on visits with Voldemort as a child. Yes, Hermione could see how that would change a person.
The snappish thought took Hermione by surprise, and she turned away from McGonagall, not sure if her expression showed her thoughts. She hadn't thought she blamed McGonagall for what happened to Harry, but maybe subconsciously she blamed everyone involved. Hermione pushed the thought away and packed up her things quickly.
She threw the bag strap over her shoulder when Dumbledore walked into the classroom nonchalantly, his hands behind his back.
"Miss Granger." He greeted his widening as if he hadn't expected to find her there. "Minerva."
"Albus." McGonagall had a cautious note in her voice. "What brings you here?"
The classroom door behind Dumbledore closed without him looking at it or making any gesture at all in a casual display of power. The three of them were now alone in the class. Dumbledore ignored McGonagall's question and focused on Hermione, "I heard there was a party last night in the Slytherin dorms."
Hermione stared at him and fought the blush that wanted to climb up her cheeks as the memory of waking up in Harry's bed came to mind, front and center.
Dumbledore's eyebrows slowly rose as he observed her. "Did you find out anything of note? Any of their plans?"
Hermione hesitated a moment, "I—" Damnit, she had to tell him. The idea of what Voldemort could do with such a powerful cloak was terrifying. "I found out Harry has a very powerful invisibility cloak."
"Ah." Dumbledore didn't seem surprised. He eyed her closely as he asked his next question, "Did Mr. Potter leave with it during the party?"
Hermione frowned. She wasn't sure Dumbledore fully understood how different the cloak was from the typical invisibility cloak. "The cloak isn't like other invisibility cloaks I've seen for sale at shops — it's significantly more powerful — enough to fool someone even mere inches away."
"Yes." Dumbledore agreed almost impatiently. "But did he leave with the cloak during the party? Were you alone for any period of time?"
Hermione shook her head, "Harry was with me the whole time." She paused. "Sir, I really think the invisibility cloak—"
"I gave Mr. Potter the invisibility cloak, Miss Granger. I'm aware of its power." Dumbledore interrupted gently.
"But why would you give him that?" Dumbledore gave something so powerful to Harry, knowing he might be on Voldemort's side?
To manipulate him, hissed Hermione's inner voice.
Dumbledore looked like he wouldn't answer, but McGonagall spoke up. "It was his father's Miss Granger; it belonged to him anyway."
Dumbledore shot McGonagall a reproving glance before looking at Hermione again. "I was hoping to establish trust between myself and the boy. Sadly, it did not work." Then he shook his head, changing back to his original topic. "So you're sure Harry Potter did not leave that party?"
Establish trust? I wonder how young Harry was when Dumbledore tried this move to establish trust, Hermione thought.
Hermione was about to open her mouth to tell him she was very sure when she remembered there was a period of time in which she'd been passed out, sleeping. She licked her lips, admitting," There was drinking at the party — I fell asleep for a little bit because of it— but as far as I'm aware, Harry stayed with me the entire time."
McGonagall made a reproving sound when Hermione admitted to drinking.
Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully at the information, eyeing her consideringly.
"Why is it so important, sir?"
He sighed. "I'm sure you will find out regardless, but Lyla Harper's family was attacked and killed last night."
Hermione paled and sat down heavily. Lyla Harper was a Muggleborn in Hufflepuff. There were only three Muggleborns in seventh year— herself, Ramona, and Lyla. And now Hermione's was the only family that hadn't been hurt.
Coldness spread through her at the thought that something might happen to her parents. Could Harry have left her the night of the party? Hermione's hand fisted in her skirt, her heart beating hard at the thought.
Dumbledore observed her reaction before continuing. "So you see how vital it is that I am sure Harry Potter stayed in Hogwarts last night."
"I think he stayed with me the whole time," Hermione said, feeling half frozen. Harry couldn't have.
"But you don't know for sure, do you?" Dumbledore pressed.
"No." She admitted. She wasn't even sure how long exactly she slept — she hadn't been keeping an eye on the time.
Dumbledore moved closer to where she sat, crouching down to look her in the eye. His blue eyes radiated warmth and comfort. "I know this is shocking, and I am sorry, Miss Granger, that you have had to experience such things during your time here. But this is why your work with Harry is so important. If he were on our side, we might have had advance notice to stop this from happening— or…. Stop him from committing the despicable act."
He didn't! Hermione pressed her lips together to stop from jumping to Harry's defense. She couldn't be sure — she'd been asleep for an unknown period of time during the party. And now she knew Harry had the ability to sneak past anyone with that invisibility cape.
Her stomach twisted smaller, and she wanted to throw up. There was a knot in her throat that prevented her from talking. She stared mutely at Dumbledore until he sighed and got up, allowing her to leave.
It took everything she had to stand up again, to say goodbye to Dumbledore and McGonagall normally. She walked straight towards the girls' restroom and was sick.
OOoooOOOooOOOOOoooOO
Hermione was still shaky later after classes and went on a walk around the black lake by herself, needing some time alone to sort her thoughts and feelings out.
It felt like there was a war going on inside her body as her mind warred with her heart. Before joining the Order, Hermione had no doubt of the righteousness of Dumbledore — and his caring for students.
After joining the Order, all his actions had a tinge of manipulation, and his gentle voice and twinkling eyes were just a facade he presented.
She knew Harry was on the wrong side of the war — even some of his statements about Muggles showed that— but after learning more about him, after being so close to him, Hermione knew there was more to him than just being on Voldemort's side.
The wind whistled across the black lake, causing ripples in the water, and the faint crunch of snow became audible as someone approached Hermione from behind. Hermione stopped waiting to see who it was.
When a familiar shock of red hair rounded the corner, Hermione felt a grim sense of inevitability settle over her. Of course, Ron would show up now. His eyes were fixed on her with a hard, angry determination as he closed the distance.
Even though she knew it was futile, Hermione hoped he was just going to pass her by. She turned around and started walking a little faster, and didn't bother to acknowledge him. But Ron's footsteps sped up, and his hand grasped her shoulder, spinning her around roughly.
"Hermione." He said tensely, stepping too close to her.
"What?" She stepped back from him. She didn't like the way he towered over her.
"What happened Saturday night?" He took a step closer, closing the distance again.
She stared up at him, mute — had Dumbledore told him what they had discussed earlier? Why would he do that?
"Well?" He demanded when she remained quiet.
No. She didn't have to answer to Ronald Weasley, and she had enough on her mind. "It's none of your business." Hermione snapped about to turn down the path, but he grabbed at her again, more roughly, spinning her to face him. This time, his hand stayed on her shoulder, grasping her too tightly, even though she tried to throw him off.
Hermione's pulse spiked in anger, and she tried to jerk away. "Ron, let me go."
He didn't. His fingers dug harder into her shoulder. "What happened Saturday night?" He demanded again.
Hermione was done with Ron and his grabby hands. She reached for her wand at her side and pushed it into his belly threateningly. "You get your hands off me right now, or I'll blast you into the Black Lake."
For a second, he didn't move, and Hermione opened her mouth about to blast him off. But then Ron's jaw clenched, and he removed his hand, stepping back three paces.
Then, locking his gaze with her, his hand purposefully went into his robes, and he pulled out his own wand, pointing it at her. His breath puffed out in ragged clouds of white in the coldness, nostrils flaring like some furious bull. He looked vicious and slightly out of control.
"You went to a party with people who hate you. You climbed into Harry Potter's bed — what is wrong with you? Don't you have any self-respect?" He ranted.
Hermione could barely believe her ears. What was Dumbledore's game in telling Ron this information? What could he possibly hope to accomplish?
"I don't know what Dumbledore told you—" She began.
"Dumbledore didn't tell me anything— I saw it!" He hissed, forgetting her wand pointing at him and stepping close again.
Hermione stopped him with her wand. "What do you mean you saw it?" Had he gone mental?
"I have a map!" Ron dug into his pocket, pulling out a tattered piece of parchment. "It shows me where everyone is in the school. And I saw you get into Harry's bed with him — right before he left to go kill Lyla's family."
Hermione could scarcely comprehend anything as she stared at the enchanted parchment. It was a map of Hogwarts, with little names moving around; it even covered some of the outer grounds up to the edge of the dark forest. It had Ron and her name out by the Black Lake, and someone else was approaching—
Ron snatched the map back before she could read the name, shoving it in his pocket.
Hermione's thoughts were going in a million directions, but one bit of information was the most important. "Harry left?"
"He carried you to his bed and stayed with you for a bit, then he left for hours. He wasn't back until three in the morning."
Harry had left.
Her knees nearly buckled.
He'd only arrived back right before she woke up; she didn't even know when she had passed out. "You told this to Dumbledore?"
"Of course, I went to him Sunday morning. And now that everyone has heard the news about Lyla, I know what Potter left to do. I'm not going to protect you or him. Everyone sees the way you two watch each other."
Dumbledore had known Harry had left by the next day, and yet he'd asked her today anyway. Hermione felt dizzy and wondered what it could mean. Dumbledore obviously didn't trust her. It had to have been a test.
"How do I know you're not lying?" The words came out without her even thinking of it consciously beforehand.
Ron looked affronted and waved the map in her face again. "I saw it — I saw you."
"And you hate Harry. How do I know you're not lying about Harry leaving Saturday night?"
Ron exploded. "Of course you're grasping at any excuse to try to defend Potter— I don't have to defend my integrity, I'm not the one raised by Voldemort and sneaking out at night to murder muggles! That's whose side you're on. That's whose bed you're sleeping in. I can't believe I ever liked you." His voice dripped with disgust, and his hands came out, shoving her hard.
Hermione stumbled backward, her anger surging; she was done with Ron Weasley.
Ron seemed to have completely forgotten the threat of her wand or the fact that she was a better duelist. There was a wildness in Ron's eyes as he sneered, "You're nothing but a whore."
The escalation seemed abrupt, and Hermione stared at him as if he'd slapped her. What was wrong with him?
"Keep your hands to yourself, Weasley." A sharp voice called from a distance.
They both looked to see Draco Malfoy approaching them.
Ron turned back to her, anger making his eyes bright blue. "Of course, the Slytherins are circling you now - the traitor to your own side."
"Why don't you leave Weasley before I embarrass you in a duel?" Malfoy said coldly, his wand out threateningly.
Hermione had had it with boys.
"Malfoy, thank you, but I can defend myself." She turned to Ron, sending a blistering, stinging hex at him that made him yelp. "I never want to talk to you again," Hermione said meaningfully, hoping he'd get the hint. Dumbledore could assign someone else to her.
For a fraught second, she thought Ron was going to attack her and raised her wand to defend herself. But the crunch of snow drew both their attention as Malfoy stepped closer to her. Finally, Ron sneered at her, putting up his wand and walking away.
Draco stayed behind, eyeing her appraisingly. "Are you alright? I can get Harry."
Hermione stared off at Ron's retreating form. "When Harry left me at the party Saturday night, where did he go?"
Draco frowned. "What do you mean? He never left your side."
Hermione looked at him, and Malfoy's silver eyes were clear as he faced her.
She shoved her hands in her pockets and deliberately turned away from Draco, hunching her shoulders and walking in the opposite direction that Ron had taken off. She didn't turn around when Draco called after her.
Her head throbbed. She had no idea what to believe.
OOoooOOOooOOOOOoooOO
Hermione said nothing to Luna and Padma, although they were aware of the attack on Lyla's family; they weren't aware that there was a question about where Harry might have been during that attack. Hermione already knew what Padma would say—the logical thing given the circumstances. Harry had done it.
Just as it had been logical when Ramona's family had been attacked, the circumstantial evidence pointed to Harry and his friends.
Was Hermione really so naive as to write off two attacks so closely tied to Harry? When Harry wouldn't even answer any questions?
Hermione remembered the darkness in Harry's eyes as he asked if she wanted to hurt him. She felt like screaming because she had no idea what to believe. Or who to trust.
Ron had every reason to lie. Even though he had an enchanted map that showed everyone's location, that was no reason to believe he was telling the truth when he hated Harry so much.
Draco also had every reason to lie — he would protect Harry, obviously.
The next day, she sat in Professor Zabini's class, hyper aware of Harry at a table away. He'd smiled at her as if nothing was wrong when he entered, and she'd given him a small, tense smile in return.
When the professor asked them to line up to demonstrate layering spells for him, Harry was right behind her in line.
"Everything okay?" He asked in a low voice.
Hermione thought about having a complete mental breakdown in the middle of class. No, everything was not okay. The line moved up, and she moved with it, Harry keeping pace behind her.
"I have a question for you, and I need you to answer truthfully." She said it so low her voice was barely a breath of sound, but he must have understood because he nodded sharply, staring at her.
"The night of the party— did you leave Hogwarts?"
His expression didn't change at the accusation in her tone. His body stayed completely relaxed next to hers. "Yes."
Yes.
The word crashed inside her, bruising her insides. She stumbled away from Harry, almost knocking over Padma.
But it didn't mean he killed Lyla's family, did it?
Yes.
It fit — God, it fit, Hermione thought. This was the second incident in a row where Harry had been conveniently missing while Muggles were harmed. Harry, who seemed to think of Muggles as lesser.
No, she couldn't just convict him in her mind— everything she knew was just circumstantial. Harry hadn't admitted to anything — she was panicking for nothing — he —
She was so desperate for him to be innocent — she was as pathetic as Ron had said.
Harry grasped her from behind, saying something she couldn't hear over the buzzing in her ears as they moved forward.
Padma looked back at her, and her eyes widened. Hermione must have looked absolutely wrecked for Padma to stare at her that way. Padma reached out, grasping her arm and pulling her away from Harry's hold.
"What did you do to her?" She asked him sharply, holding on to Hermione protectively.
But Harry didn't even look at Padma, his gaze on Hermione. "I didn't do it, Hermione."
He already knew she suspected him of killing that family. What did that mean? God, her head felt like it was going to explode. Tremors raced over her as she tried to tamp down her reaction.
"Can we please pay attention to my class and not your teenage dramatics?" Zabini interrupted sternly. "Miss Patil, you are up. Please demonstrate your layering technique for the class."
Padma reluctantly let Hermione go to stand before Professor Zabini and waved her wand to layer a disbursement and protective charm together.
Hermione felt like she couldn't breathe as she stood there with Harry at her shoulder, as he repeated more softly. "Listen to me, Hermione. I had nothing to do with what happened to that Muggle family."
Hermione kept her gaze blindly fixed forward as Zabini critiqued Padma's layering technique. She knew Ron was somewhere in the back of the line, probably watching them, but she was only aware of Harry at her back.
Her head throbbed as she tried to make all the pieces of the puzzle fit and understand what they meant.
"Miss Granger." Professor Zabini snapped. "You're next."
Her stomach lurched.
"I can go first, Professor— " Harry volunteered, already stepping forward.
Zabini shook his head. "Back in line, Potter, you're next. Miss Granger, if you please." He gestured to the spot she should move to with his hand.
Hermione stepped forward, trying to control the small tremors running through her body. She clenched her wand, willing her hands not to shake.
She cast the shield spell first, and her magic shivered, mimicking her internal crisis.
From behind her, Harry called softly. "Keep your focus."
Zabini, overhearing the low reprimand, gave Harry a disapproving glance but turned and gave the same advice. "A fight will come to you no matter your mental state. I don't care who broke up with who— or who kissed who in your little teenage dramas, but I want a properly layered protego right now, Miss Granger."
Hermione wanted to laugh. If only it were that simple— just stupid teenage drama— and not life or death.
She slashed her wand through the air, her shield charm steadying as a disbursement charm layered over it perfectly.
"Excellently done! Miss Granger— now class, look at the edge of her protego—" Zabini went on to point out the ends of the spells mixing and reinforcing each other.
Hermione could barely keep her expression blank as the lecture continued for what seemed like forever until he dismissed her, and she went to take her seat. Padma leaned over, asking what was wrong, but she just shook her head; there was nothing she could talk about now.
Harry came shortly after sitting too close — but anywhere in the room would have been too close. Harry leaned toward her. "We need to talk."
Yes, they did. But when she had the chance to think this through and decide who she believed. And what she should say. She shook her head at Harry. "Not now."
"After classes."
"No." She looked at him. He looked concerned about her, a furrow in his brow as he stared at her. She needed more time to get herself together than that. "At tutoring, we'll talk."
He frowned but nodded. "Fine at tutoring, Hermione."
OOoooOOOooOOOOOoooOO
Hogwarts students almost universally hated Magical History. Not surprising since the Professor for the subject was a ghost. Cuthbert Binns had died while teaching a history lesson and hadn't let that stop him from boring students to death, and continued teaching as a ghost.
Hermione, though, actually enjoyed the class despite Professor Binns, who sounded like a Hoover struggling over a dirty carpet as he spoke. History was a class in which she could relax and set her own agenda. Since History was a subject in which she'd always had a passion for, she knew most of the material before Binns even covered it.
So Hermione used her class time as an additional revision period while she went over work from her other classes.
But not today. Today, her focus was on Lyla Harper's white face. Hermione was surprised that the girl was in class so soon after what had happened to her family.
Hermione swallowed hard. Seeing Lyla made the threat all too real — and scared Hermione for her own family.
Lyla sat adjacent to Hermione, and she stared blindly forward as Binns hoovered on about the Giant Wars. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her hand trembled as she clutched her unmoving quill. Even from Hermione's vantage, she could see the large black blob of ink that had dripped onto Lyla's parchment.
Grief had ravaged the young girl's face, making her look older than she was— Hermione could barely look away from Lyla, wondering if something like that would happen to her own parents.
Harry had said he hadn't done it, and there had been a ring of truth in his voice.
But did she believe him?
The problem with making that decision was that all Hermione had to go on was her feelings—she knew nothing about Harry, really, or his motivations. She had no facts except that he had left Hogwarts during the time period in which the incident occurred.
But she wanted him to be innocent. Badly.
And that was precisely why she needed to be sure she wasn't fooling herself if she trusted him.
Lyla drew in an audibly shaky breath, and a tear slipped down her cheek.
Hermione brought out several spare parchments, tapping them with her wand and transfiguring them into soft tissues. She leaned toward Lyla, holding them out to her. "Lyla." She whispered softly, trying to get her attention so she could hand her the transfigured tissues.
Rather than look at her, Lyla stood abruptly, her chair scraping the floor and drawing everyone's attention. There had been a low hum of conversation underneath Binn's lecture, but now it ceased, and only Binn's droning voice could be heard.
Lyla stood frozen for a moment while everyone looked at her apprehensively, then, without looking at anyone, she ran out of the class. Hermione hesitated only a second before following her, holding the tissues.
Out in the hallway, Hermione found Lyla leaning against the wall, her arms crossed tightly over herself as if she was holding herself together.
"Lyla?" Hermione said quietly, approaching the girl and holding out the tissues again.
Lyla glanced at her, then the tissues, but didn't reach for them.
At the same time, Hermione heard footsteps behind her and saw that Chrissy and Elsie — two other Hufflepuff girls had followed them out of the classroom. The two girls looked angry and concerned as they approached. Hermione shot them a curious look but turned back to Lyla to find the girl was glaring at her with tear-glazed eyes.
"I would never take anything from someone like you," Lyla said vehemently to Hermione.
The venom of Lyla's tone was like a slap to the face. "What?" Hermione asked, shocked.
"Everyone knows you're with them — the people who did this to my family — the people who support you know who," Lyla said, tears sliding down her cheeks like rivers.
Hermione felt like she was going to be sick at the accusation. "I would never support you know who."
"So why are you trying to pretend you're not a muggleborn?" Chrissy asked with a huff, approaching both Lyla and Hermione. "Why are you always hanging out with Potter and the Slytherins?"
Elsie nodded, following and agreeing with Chrissy. "And why did you sleep with Potter then? Don't you know who he is?"
"That's not true!" Hermione said, backing away as the two girls went to stand on either side of Lyla, and all three of them looked at her with disgust.
The little group advanced slowly, Lyla a step ahead of Chrissy and Elsie, anger filling her eyes. Step by step, they drove Hermione back.
"Liar! Everyone knows what you're doing — why you're so cozy with him — always making eyes at each other — and that you slept with him." Lyla's voice cracked at the end. "You slept with him, and then he went and murdered my family!"
Hermione's back hit the stone wall, but the girl still advanced. "No, that's not what happened— I didn't—"
Chrissy, on Lyla's left, spoke up. "Then you didn't go to a party in the dungeon?"
"I did but —"
"You didn't crawl into Potter's bed?" Elsie, on the right, sneered.
"That's not how that happened! Harry was — I —" Hermione stuttered. She couldn't even really defend herself. There was so much she couldn't say. She was trying to help them all against Voldemort, and instead, they thought she was on his side.
"Don't you dare say his name to me!" Lyla hissed. "My family is dead because of people like him! And you dare come talk to me like you aren't sucking up to them at every opportunity?"
Hermione's mouth opened and closed, her face stricken white.
Chrissy spoke up again. "You're pathetic coming out here trying to comfort her, to try to make yourself look good after what you've done. Trying to look innocent. No one believes that Granger."
Hermione could hear the desperate breaths she made as she tried to suck in air that didn't seem to exist anymore. Her lungs felt like they were shriveling inside her. "I'm not— I'm sorry—" She slid across the wall until she could get around them and dashed back into the classroom, her head down, wiping away tears.
"And then the Northern Giants retreated further north, driven by their southern enemies toward Norway." Professor Binn hadn't even paused his droning during the drama.
Aside from Binns, the classroom was dead silent, and Hermione wondered if any of them had heard bits of the confrontation from the hallway.
Shakily, Hermione sat down, not looking at anyone. She picked up her quill shakily, trying to convince herself that no one else thought such horrible things about her.
Her gaze fell on the parchment on her desk, where she had only taken a few brief notes. Scratched across her parchment in big bold letters was the word whore. Coldness washed through her until she couldn't even feel her fingers that shakily clutched her quill. A blob of ink dripped onto the horrible word, blurring it.
She grabbed the paper angrily, balling it up. She was trying so hard to help, and yet this was happening to her. She couldn't even really defend herself from the accusations because she couldn't tell the truth about why she had begun becoming close to the Slytherins.
She looked around, and everyone avoided her gaze. Even other Ravenclaws. The idea that all of them thought that of her stabbed like a knife. With jerky breaths, she gathered up all her things and strode out of the classroom, dumping the balled-up parchment in the bin.
Her walk sped up as she exited the classroom, and when she turned the corner into the hallway, she broke into a run; the thud of her feet echoed loudly down the semi-silent hallway as she ran away from the classroom. She was desperate to get away. She heard her name called from down the hall, but ignored it, turning a corner and ducking into a broom closet to hide.
The space was dark and small, and exactly what she needed when she felt like she was about to burst into a million pieces. Hermione leaned against the rough wood wall of the broom closet and burst into tears.
She hadn't realized what it might look like to other students when she started to become friendly with Harry. Or what conclusion they might draw because of it.
Hermione hit her fist hard against the wood, welcoming the sting as she tried to get control of her emotions. She wondered how much of that confrontation was due to Ron Weasley. He had looked crazed the other day when he confronted her, and he'd use the same slur. She didn't think it was a coincidence.
God, she hated him.
OOoooOOOooOOOOOoooOO
She'd managed to calm down by the time she had to go to Charms class. However, when she stepped into the class and almost every student turned to look at her with hard eyes, Hermione realized the rumors had spread throughout the entire school.
Padma's face was pale, and her wide eyes met Hermione's as soon as she walked in the door. When Hermione sat next to her, she leaned over. "We need to talk."
Hermione nodded sharply, already knowing what Padma wanted to talk about. She focused on Flitwick, trying to pay attention to the lesson.
Flitwick was on top of the table this time, while his animated pineapple stood next to him, almost nine feet tall. The edges of the pineapple's arms were starting to brown slightly, and a sharp, unpleasant scent emanated from it.
"Hello, class! We're going to continue our lesson by focusing on stabilizing charms for long-term use. As you can see, our pineapple is still with us!" Flitwick said excitedly, gesturing to the pineapple, which waved at the class.
This time, there were scattered gags as old pineapple juice hit the front row.
"Our constructs wouldn't be very useful if they couldn't maintain themselves, would they?" Flitwick continued ignoring the grossed-out faces in the front row.
From behind Padma and Hermione, someone whispered just loud enough to be heard. "Whore."
They both stiffened, and Padma jerked around, glaring at the students behind them. "Who said that?" She demanded in a loud whisper.
Parvati, on the other side of Padma, shifted uncomfortably. Hermione glanced at her and saw guilt on her face.
This was one big mess.
Hermione grabbed Padma's forearm and shook her head at her. She was worried that if Padma defended her too vehemently, the students would turn on Padma too. Hermione didn't want Padma to face the same bullying she didn't deserve.
It occurred to Hermione also that since Padma wasn't already getting the same treatment, it meant that someone in Ravenclaw had noticed that only Hermione stayed out late Saturday and talked — or it was definitely Ron Weasley targeting her.
Hermione would bet every galleon she had that it was Ron Weasley.
Flitwick waved his wand at the pineapple, and it flexed for the class. "Now you see how the stabilization is keeping the core firm— "
"Bet she can't wait for her next private lesson with Potter." Someone sneered, and sniggers broke out behind Hermione. She clenched her hands into fists.
Padma was turning red with anger next to her. She leaned toward her sister, "Who said it? Did you recognize their voice?"
Hermione strained to hear the answer and then regretted it when she heard Parvati's whisper back, "I don't think it was anyone in my house that said it."
"What!" Padma turned around, glaring at the Ravenclaws behind them.
"Miss Patil!" Flitwick stopped his lecture. "Is everything okay?"
Padma turned back around quickly. "Yes, Professor."
Class resumed, but Hermione felt like she was underwater. Class was passing excruciatingly slowly, and she couldn't understand a word that Flitwick said. Her heart beat uncomfortably hard, and skipped a beat each time she heard more sniggers from behind her.
It felt like everyone was staring at her back, but Hermione refused to give them the satisfaction of looking. She stared blindly at the front of the class, where the pineapple was now doing jumping jacks while some students laughed and others gagged.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she knew they were waiting for a reaction from her.
Padma grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together. "They're idiots." She whispered fiercely to Hermione.
Hermione wanted to tell her not to show support for her in class— what if any of that vitriol was turned toward Padma as a result? Hermione didn't know if she could stand it.
A scrap of parchment hit the back of Hermione's head, and she stiffened.
"That's it!" Padma said, furiously trying to stand while Hermione kept hold of her hand.
Flitwick clapped his hands, distracting them both. "Now you will take your rocks and attempt to prolong the charm — we want them still moving when we come for class next week!"
Chairs scraped the ground as people moved back into their groups. Hermione looked to where she knew Ron sat, and found him staring at her coldly.
She wanted to run over there and hex him. Instead, she turned away, lifting her chin into the air.
Padma saw Hermione's gaze go to Ron and muttered, "Of course it was him! I'm going to curse him—"
"No," Hermione said quickly. "That is just going to prove to them I'm against them and potentially that you're against them too."
"Against them?"
Hermione leaned close. "That we're with you know who."
"That's ridiculous. You're—" Padma's mouth snapped shut before she could talk about the Order. "Oh dear."
Hermione nodded grimly. She couldn't say anything about why she was suddenly trying to be friendly to Harry by going to tutoring sessions with him and attending a party at the Slytherin dungeon.
Parvati leaned toward them. "It was all anyone was talking about over breakfast at the Gryffindor table. About Lyla… and that you were with Harry when he supposedly went and did it."
Hermione swallowed, trying to get rid of the knot in her throat, wanting to throw up at the mere thought of doing that. How could anyone think that of her? For six years, she'd always tried to help people — she'd been the best student. And now, with barely more than a month of talking to Harry, she was in league with Voldemort?
Padma stared at her worriedly. "Are you okay? We can fix this, Hermione."
No, she wasn't okay. Her stomach hurt, and her entire body felt cold. She didn't think this could be fixed especially when she still intended to keep seeing Harry for tutoring sessions.
But when she looked at Ron's cold face, determination filled her. She took a deep breath, letting her stomach settle. She wasn't going to be forced into backing away from Harry because of rumors and bullying. Saving him was worth whatever they did to her. If Ron thought this was enough to make her change course, he was sadly mistaken.
Ron's view of everything had always been too narrow— he thought of things in relation to how they affected him rather than how they impacted others.
Everything Hermione was doing wasn't just for herself — it was to help all muggleborns— and Harry.
And she wasn't about to let Ron's stupid machinations stop her.
OOoooOOOooOOOOOoooOO
Later in their dorm, while Hermione stared dazedly up at her blue canopy, Padma stalked back and forth, absolutely furious.
"That rotten, low, pathetic, stupid bastard!" She snarled, her long black hair whipping back and forth as she paced. "I can't believe he did that to you!"
Luna, who had just arrived, looked at Padma wide-eyed. "What happened?"
Padma whirled on Luna. "Ronald Weasley went and told everyone that Hermione is sleeping with Harry and that she wants to be on you know who's side."
"That doesn't make sense." Luna frowned. "Who would believe that Hermione wants to be on you know who's side?"
Hermione controlled a wince. Luna had very obviously skipped over the other part of the allegation of her sleeping with Harry. Even to Luna, that must have sounded like a reasonable accusation.
"Dumb people!" Padma answered. "They were calling Hermione names in class, and Parvati said that pretty much everyone believes Ron."
Luna looked at Hermione, and all her dreamy softness was gone from her face. "Do you want me to hex him?" She inquired with the same tone of voice with which she might offer tea.
Padma spun around excitedly. "Yes! We should hex him! Something really wicked and embarrassing. Like having his trousers rip every time he bends over!"
Luna smiled. "We could make him call everyone Babbitty Rabbity."
Hermione laughed at the thought of Ron addressing Dumbledore as Babbity Rabbity. But she shook her head at them. "No, if anyone is going to hex him, I will hex him, and I'm not too sure that would help."
"Well, it would definitely make me feel better about everything." Padma sat down with a huff. "And what could be worse than what's already happening?"
"Or…." Luna said thoughtfully. "We could tell Harry."
Both Padma and Hermione sucked in their breath.
Hermione shook her head vehemently. "There is no way we're telling Harry anything. I can take care of my own problems, and I think the best response is to ignore this until people get tired of acting like idiots."
"I think setting Harry on Ron would be more effective than ignoring the problem." Luna disagreed.
Padma gave a short laugh. "Yeah, I could see Harry murdering Ron… oh…" She trailed off as she caught Hermione's wince. "That's why you don't want him finding out. You're worried he might overreact."
Hermione wanted to snap that Harry wouldn't murder anyone but she'd seen the darkness in his eyes — whether or not he murdered Lyla's family — the one thing she absolutely believed was that he was capable of murder.
"I don't want Harry told anything," Hermione repeated firmly, not acknowledging Padma's statement. "This is my problem, and I will handle it."
Silence fell as all three girls stared at each other.
Luna picked up the end of a strand of hair and began to twine it around her finger. "Okay. But I still think he should get some consequences for what he's doing to you. This is bullying Hermione."
Luna was very sensitive to bullying after everything she'd gone through in the first few years of Hogwarts. It explained why she'd suggested such severe actions in response to what Ron had done.
Hermione sat up and went to sit beside Luna on her bed. She reached over and hugged the other girl. "Thank you for being my friend, Luna."
Luna nodded, not looking up from where she was still twisting her hair around her finger.
Hermione stopped and said to her carefully. "But I really don't want you saying anything to Harry about this, okay?"
Luna nodded, "Fine, I won't tell Harry anything."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Worrying about Harry's reaction would be another layer on top of everything else she had to worry about.
She still didn't know whether she believed him about the family — if he was innocent, where had he gone that night? And if he'd so easily told her it wasn't him when Lyla's family was murdered, did that mean that when Ramona's family was beaten, that was him?
Then there was Dumbledore's inquiry if Harry had left during the party when he already knew — had he been testing her? Or was he double-checking Ron?
Hermione flopped back on Luna's bed, her thoughts jumbled. "I just really need to figure things out."
Padma came and sat on the other side of Hermione, looking down at her. "You look stressed— and you've looked stressed for longer than this particular situation — it's been ever since you joined the Order, Hermione." Padma hesitated. "Maybe… maybe this is too much to rest on your shoulders."
"No!" Hermione popped back up, straightening her shoulders. "I can do this."
Padma looked at her and sighed. "I'm just worried about you."
Luna nodded in agreement. "You have to narrow your focus — right now there are too many players, and it's distracting."
That sounded like good advice. What did it matter if Dumbledore thought she might be lying? She knew she was on the side of the Order of the Phoenix, and it would be proven through her actions. Ron was simply a miscellaneous distraction; even though it had hurt to have students accuse her of being on Voldemort's side at the end of the day, it didn't matter.
What mattered was Harry — earning his trust and getting him to be on her side.
"You're right, Luna," Hermione said determinedly. "I need to focus on Harry and forget everything else."
Padma bit her lip. "He already seems quite focused on you… What did happen that night?"
Hermione realized she hadn't even talked to Luna and Padma about waking up in Harry's bed or the invisibility cloak. Still, she hesitated to reveal more. "I don't know, really. I must have passed out."
Padma squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry the end of the night is kind of fuzzy for me, too. I don't remember walking back to our rooms at all."
"I remember Draco carried me." Luna offered. "The floor was misbehaving."
Hermione couldn't help the slight uptilt of her lips at Luna's phrasing. She met Padma's gaze and saw the same amusement reflected there.
Hermione tuned out of the conversation as Padma and Luna continued to talk, staring up at the ceiling above Luna's bed. As the stars Luna had drawn glittered down at her, Hermione felt a renewed sense of purpose.
She wanted Voldemort out of power. And she wanted to save Harry.
That was all that mattered.
OOoooOOOooOOOOOoooOO
There was a section deep in the library where some enterprising person had managed to crack open a window just a bit despite the spells keeping them shut. Hermione sat at the table nearest to the window, parchments spread out in front of her that she ignored. She'd layered a repelling charm with a disillusionment to make sure no one would bother her.
She was done with people for the moment.
On her way to the library, someone had shoved her from behind. When she turned around, most students had just stared at her while a few looked away guiltily. The only reason she hadn't fallen was that Anthony Goldstein had caught her arm. She supposed she shouldn't have been so hard on him.
But then, Anthony was probably completely unaware of the rumors about her since they didn't affect him directly. Hermione scoffed lightly to herself. She wondered if Harry had heard the rumors and what he thought of them.
Somehow, she doubted anyone would be brave enough to say anything to Harry's face. She shivered at the thought.
No, no one was going to be that stupid. Not even Ronald Weasley.
Besides, if Harry found out, Ron probably wouldn't be walking for long. Hermione smirked to herself at the thought for just a moment before shaking it off. She didn't need Harry to solve her problems— she could take care of Ron herself if she wanted.
She could blast Ron into the Black Lake and let Horace play with him. But then the Gryffindors would probably hate her more than they already do because of Ron's rumors. She sighed and wilted, her shoulders slumping.
A cold draft slipped through the narrow window crack, sliding over her skin and raising goosebumps. Hermione inhaled deeply, enjoying the bite of the cold air. She shivered, straightening again from the bracing cold.
"I can do this." She whispered to herself, looking out the window.
She wasn't sure how long she spent there staring out the window as the sun slowly set, but eventually she heard the faintest scuff of a shoe near her.
Hermione tensed. Her spells should keep anyone away from her, but that sound was uncomfortably close when she wanted to remain in solitude.
Hermione almost jumped out of her seat when she heard Malfoy's voice close. "I don't think she's here, mate."
"She's always here, I just have to find her," Harry said, his voice low and terse.
Hermione straightened in her seat, her eyes darting around. Draco and Harry must be just the aisle over —they were so close. Her spell must be keeping them away.
There was a sigh and a shuffle. "Harry… you know you can't— "
"I can," Harry said with emphasis.
"Fuck, you know I'd do anything for you but this…" Malfoy laughed without humor. "We're going to die, you realize that?"
"Don't be dramatic. We're not dying—"
Hermione strained, but Harry's voice lowered. She wondered if she could risk getting up.
"Tonight," Malfoy said louder. "We're really going along with it?"
"We move when he says move," Harry confirmed.
"But I thought— the hit—"
"We're going," Harry cut him off.
Tonight.
That could only mean one thing. They were planning another raid like the one that had killed Lyla's family.
Hermione felt like her heart had stopped, and pain spread through her chest like an infection swimming through her veins. It hurt to breathe, and she struggled to keep her breaths even and low. She'd cast disillusionment charms, but if she were loud, they'd still hear her.
Hermione pressed a trembling hand flat against the table, trying to ground herself.
Tonight.
They'd mentioned a hit. Did that mean Harry would kill someone? Hermione felt ill. A wild part of her wanted to jump out and confront Harry. How could he do that after everything that had happened between them?
Harry stared at her with fire in his dark green gaze. "I think you're the prettiest in this school, or anyone else for that matter."
The faintest whimper escaped her lips.
"Hermione?" Harry's low whisper from the aisle over made the blood drain from her face.
She couldn't face him. Hermione tried to be absolutely silent, holding her breath as dizziness crept up on her.
Silence stretched.
She dug her fingernails into the wood of the table.
A breeze whistled through the crack of the open window.
"You've got it so bad, mate," Draco said. "Thinking everything is her. There's an open window somewhere close— I can feel the chill."
"You don't have to follow me around everywhere, you know—" Harry said slightly irritably.
"With the shit you get into on the regular, yes, I do. Mother would disown me if something happened to you."
There was the faint sound of footsteps retreating, and Hermione waited a panicked extra second before sucking in a deep breath.
Both Draco and Harry were going to something tonight. Hermione ran a shaky hand through her messy curls.
Whatever was going to happen tonight, it couldn't be good — and Harry hadn't sounded like he was being forced. It had sounded like a choice he was making. He was choosing to go.
Hermione pressed her palms to her eyes until stars burst behind her lids, as she took another shuddering breath.
She remembered the sincerity in Harry's gaze as he told her during Defense Against the Dark Arts that he wasn't part of murdering Lyla's family.
Was it all a lie? What was real?
She straightened her spine, sucking a deep, steadying breath. Her hands fisted on the table as she packed away her personal anguish, shoving it to the back of her mind. She could not fall apart. The fact that Harry was acting on Voldemort's orders wasn't shocking. The Order had suspected Harry was closely associated with Voldemort, and this just proved it.
She couldn't back away from Harry because of this. She had to keep her emotions contained.
Hermione almost scoffed to herself at that thought. When Harry came within a foot of her, it felt like she was melting from the inside out. But that wasn't necessarily a weakness if it could be used.
Bring him to our side, Dumbledore's voice whispered in her mind.
She swallowed hard. She needed to tell Dumbledore that something was happening tonight.
Maybe they could stop Harry — maybe he wouldn't do anything — maybe —
She couldn't squash the voice inside her that said Harry was very capable of harming someone —perhaps even killing someone.
Harry had darkness in him. She'd always known that.
She lifted her chin; it was up to her to try to stop him — to help him see that what he was doing was wrong. But first she had to stop him.
She dismissed the spells keeping her hidden, gathered up her things, and went in search of Dumbledore.
OOoooOOOooOOOOOoooOO
Hermione tensed as soon as she saw that Alastor Moody was with Dumbledore.
"Miss Granger." Dumbledore greeted. "How are you this evening?"
Moody shifted impatiently, his magical eye inspecting her closely.
"I'm fine, sir. I wanted to tell you I overheard something that might be important."
Hermione paused, and Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"
She hated that she felt like she was betraying Harry. She cleared her throat. "I overheard Harry and Draco talking about something that was going to happen tonight — something both of them were going to."
Moody stiffened. "Did they mention any names or a time, girl?"
Hermione shook her head.
"What else did they say?" Dumbledore asked, inspecting her closely.
"Nothing else. Draco asked Harry if they were going, and Harry confirmed they would go — after that, they moved away from me."
"Convenient," Moody muttered, but Hermione ignored him.
Dumbledore sent Moody a reproachful glance before turning back to Hermione. "Miss Granger, you did the right thing by coming to me immediately. We've had some information about a raid tonight, and this confirms it."
Hermione's hands clenched at her sides. "A raid on who?"
"Longbottom," Moody answered gruffly. "She's got too much pull in the Wizengamot, and she's dead set against them. I'm surprised they left her alone this long."
Hermione remembered the chubby brunette Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom. He'd always been so sweet to her. "Neville's grandmother?"
Dumbledore nodded. "We hoped they weren't so bold as to go after someone so prominent, but the attacks seem to be escalating." He paused before emphasizing. "This is why your work with Harry is so important."
The words felt like rocks on her chest. It was her responsibility to bring him to their side. "I'm trying."
"Is that what you're doing, girl?" Moody asked skeptically. "The rumors flying around say otherwise."
"Rumors?" Coldness spread through her at the thought that they may have heard what everyone is saying about her.
Dumbledore shot a quelling glance at Moody, breaking into the conversation. "McGonagall has told us about the rumors Mr. Weasley is spreading — we have taken steps to make him correct his behavior."
The idea that the professors would have heard the rumors Ron was spreading made her nauseated, especially the thought of McGonagall hearing them. She wondered what steps they had taken to stop Ron and whether they would be effective at all.
Dumbledore stared at her with a glint of pity in his eyes, which made her feel even worse. "I am sorry that Mr. Weasley was not up to the task of helping you. I thought since he seemed to care for you very deeply, he would be the best person to support you in this endeavor."
Right.
Who could have seen that coming? Everyone who knew anything about Ron Weasley.
When Dumbledore seemed to expect a response from her, Hermione nodded. "Thank you. For tonight's raid, is there anything I can do? Do you want me to come help?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "We need you to remain as neutral as possible in Potter's eyes. If you went to the raid tonight, you'd lose his trust and possibly your life."
"He knows I'm a muggleborn and that I don't support you know who." Hermione had never been quiet about her opposition to Voldemort — it was part of what had gotten her in trouble in fifth year. "I don't think he views me as neutral."
"Yes, of course, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eyes. "It just wouldn't be the best for you to potentially directly fight Harry— we can agree on that, yes?"
Hermione's stomach flipped at the thought of fighting Harry. There would be no contest in a true duel between them. There was a power and ruthlessness that Harry had that she just didn't.
Moody answered before she could. "Someone like Potter wouldn't hesitate to cut someone down on the other side." He eyed Hermione. "Something you don't have in you."
Hermione didn't want to fight Harry — and she had no doubt that if she fought Harry, he'd take her down. But Moody's assertion made her spine stiffen anyway. "Then I guess it's good Harry's training me, isn't it?" She shot back.
Moody stared at her and grunted, shifting his weight. "Training ya, is that what you two are doing?"
Hermione's teeth ground together. "Are you —"
"Yes." Dumbledore cut in. "Alastor, it was quite enterprising of Miss Granger to get Potter to give her tutoring."
Moody grunted again, not taking his eyes off Hermione.
Hermione wasn't about to let Dumbledore distract her. "What's your problem? I've been doing my best to help the Order, and you've treated me poorly since the first."
"Alastor—" Dumbledore began again.
But Moody waved him off and stepped closer to Hermione, until she could smell his sour breath. "You've had no training, and you're going up against someone who's been in the conflict since he was born. We assign you to bring him to our side, and instead, there are questions about the validity of what you're telling us, and there are rumors that you're sleeping with your target less than a month in. I don't trust you, girlie."
"I've never lied to the Order." Hermione practically snarled in Moody's face. How dare he question her after everything she'd done to help them?
Moody reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, clear vial. "Trust but verify. Want to—"
"That's enough!" Dumbledore's power rolled through the room, pushing Hermione and Moody away from each other. "We are on the same side." He looked over at Moody. "And we have more important priorities right now, Alastor."
"Fine," Moody muttered, shoving the little vial back into his coat pocket.
"And Miss Granger." Dumbledore gentled his voice, pulling his power back. "We appreciate your work on behalf of the order. If anything urgent occurs while we are out, please contact Minerva in my stead."
Hermione gave a short nod. Hating the fact that her eyes were watering in the aftermath of the confrontation. She averted her gaze from Moody. "I will."
Dumbledore nodded. "Then thank you very much and good night, Miss Granger."
"Goodnight." She turned and marched back out of Dumbledore's office.
Anger kept her walking fast as she strode down the hallways toward the Ravenclaw common room.
She turned the corner and spotted a boy with brown hair. Neville Longbottom. Hermione's heart lurched, and she turned around to avoid him.
She'd take the long way around.
OOoooOOOooOOOOOoooOO
After reaching the Ravenclaw rooms, Padma immediately pressed her with questions. Hermione hadn't wanted to tell Padma what she'd overheard Harry discussing—and Padma clearly sensed she was hiding something. But even the thought of Harry taking part in a raid with Voldemort made her skin crawl. She couldn't handle the idea of discussing it — even with one of her best friends.
Instead, Hermione slipped from the Ravenclaw rooms later and climbed the steps to one of the tallest towers in Hogwarts. The Astronomy tower. It was the domain of Aurora Sinistra. Hermione hadn't taken Astronomy since her second year; she thought it was a bunch of bollocks.
But she felt like she couldn't breathe — and since going outside was out of the question, this was as close as she was going to get. She took a deep breath as soon as the trap door opened, and her head popped up into the room.
It was just like she remembered. Open to the night sky. She climbed out and made herself comfortable facing the waning moon. However, just as she was about to relax, a low voice called out to her.
"Hello, Hermione," Luna said, stepping into the moonlight.
"Luna?" Hermione asked, startled. "What are you doing here?"
Luna gave a slight shrug. "Sometimes I like coming here after talking to the Gray Lady."
"It's past curfew," Hermione said, even though she was there too.
Luna gave her a small smile. "I know." She walked toward Hermione and made herself comfortable on a pillow next to her. "Do you want me to leave?"
Hermione looked into her calm blue eyes — and hesitated. She had wanted to be here alone, but Luna was different. She wouldn't press for answers like Padma would.
"No stay." She answered, reaching out to pat Luna's knee. "I just wanted to look at the stars."
Luna relaxed back, looking up at the stars quietly. The wind blew through the opening, ruffling their hair as they stared upward. The stars twinkled down at them.
"The stars are comforting, aren't they?" Luna asked softly.
Usually they would be, but Hermione couldn't quite shake the anxiety of what might be happening — or what Harry might be doing.
When she didn't respond, Luna turned to look at her. "What are you thinking of?"
That was easy to answer. "That I've been feeling so powerless lately. Like I can't change things." Hermione murmured. "I'm just stuck experiencing it."
"There are things we can change — and those we cannot," Luna said. "The tough part is knowing the difference."
Hermione's hand fisted against the stone floor. She could change Harry. No matter what was happening right now — no matter—
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Please, don't kill anyone, Harry.
"What if I have to change him, Luna?" Hermione asked, not explaining, but in that fey way of hers, Luna followed her conversation without a pause.
"Would you be willing to change for him?"
Hermione jerked, opening her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"It seems unfair to ask someone to change to suit your needs when you aren't willing to change for them. What are you willing to change, Hermione?"
What could she change without risking her sense of identity? Hermione shook her head. "It's not the same, Luna. He's — he's —"
"What you want." Luna finished.
Hermione stared at her, struck mute.
Luna was still staring up at the stars. "You know I always disagreed with the saying opposites attract. Even two seemingly opposing forces, when you strip down the outer layers, are more similar than they are different." She looked over at Hermione, her eyes deep blue pools. "Does it scare you to think you could be similar to Harry?"
"I'm not," Hermione said firmly. Luna was wrong — she and Harry had almost nothing in common.
Luna glanced at her with a smile and said nothing.
"I'm not," Hermione repeated. "I wouldn't hurt someone— "
"Even if they were threatening your friends?"
"That's different." Hermione could hear her own voice rising and took a deep breath. She was on edge because she didn't know what was happening in the raid. She wouldn't breathe easily until she saw Harry in class and made sure Mrs. Longbottom survived. "I'm sorry, Luna. I'm just a little stressed."
"I know," Luna said softly. "You must care for him a lot."
Hermione swallowed her immediate objection because it would sound nonsensical. She did care for Harry — to an unreasonable level, considering everything. "I do." She admitted instead. "I just wish I understood why."
Luna shot her a mischievous smile. "Fate?"
Knowing Luna expected it, Hermione scoffed at the question.
Luna gave her a sly look. "Attraction?"
"It's part of it — but not all of it, of course," Hermione admitted.
"Of course not." Luna agreed.
Silence fell as Hermione thought of Harry. It was every aspect of him that drew her. It wasn't just an attraction, although it was there in spades.
She began the confession slowly… quietly…"It's the way he smiles… " She paused, then continued. "The way he's unexpectedly vulnerable sometimes. The way the world seems different when I'm with him — like I'm always underwater, but when I'm with him I can breathe— and it's so intense." Hermione turned so she was facing Luna. "I want to know everything about him — not for Dumbledore or the Order but for me. It's hard to fight the part of me that wants to rely on him — trust him — even though it doesn't make any sense."
Hermione sighed, drawing up her knees to rest her chin on them. "So, yes, it's much more than just attraction."
Luna studied her for a long, thoughtful moment in the moonlight. Hermione fought not to squirm under her insightful regard. Luna had always seen deeper than the surface of things.
"Mmm." Luna hummed. "Sounds like fate." She leaned forward as Hermione shook her head. "Yes. Maybe you and Harry have been together in another life— maybe in many lives."
Hermione gave her a faint smile. "I'm just worried about this life, Luna."
Luna shrugged. "Fate is perhaps giving you a few more obstacles to your happily ever after this time. But I don't doubt you'll get there."
"Promise?" Please let Harry be okay. Please let everyone be okay.
Luna held out her hand, her pinky finger extended. "Pinky promise— happily ever after."
Hermione gave a small laugh, hooking her pinky to Luna's.
Luna smiled at her mischievously. "Or we'll fix it."
"How would we do that?" Hermione meant to say it lightly, her finger still curled around Luna's, but instead the question came out pleadingly.
Luna raised her eyebrows, letting go of Hermione's pinky to pull up her knees and set her chin upon them, mimicking Hermione's pose. "Time travel. We'll make our own fate."
A smile slowly stole across Hermione's face. "You know you're a bit mental, don't you?"
Luna laughed. "But that's what you love about me."
Hermione leaned forward and hugged the younger girl. "One of the many, many things I love about you."