Chapter 40

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a while. I promise to put them back when I'm done. Oh, nope, no money either...just for fun. Once again, what events that are not mentioned that happen in the books is as it happened in the books.

I want to give a great big thank you hug to my alpha reader, Arabellabloodgood, Proulxes for the bit of Brit-picking, and to DuchessOfArcadia for combing through this and helping me clean up my many mistakes. I really appreciate it more than you can possibly know.

Thank you, Jay, for the beautiful banner. I absolutely love it!

Hermione had been really surprised by Ron's reactions in Herbology that morning. He'd been acting so petulant and moody over the Slug Club and how Professor Slughorn ignored him, that when she'd mentioned the Christmas party, his initial reaction had been, well, expected.

She'd been hurt that instead of letting her ask him to go with her, he'd been sarcastic and mean, sneering that she should go with McLaggen...McLaggen of all people...mockingly saying that they'd be the queen and king of the party if they did. However, the look on his face when she'd told him she wanted to take him as her guest, wide eyed with surprise, mouth gaping open slightly...

But she'd been hurt by the disparaging way he'd told her to get off with McLaggen, so instead she'd thrown his sneer back in his face. Such a childish thing on her part, but his very quiet response of, "No, I wouldn't," his ears turning bright red, had shocked her. It occurred to her that he was jealous...Ron was jealous of McLaggen! Could it be that he honestly liked her?

No one had liked her liked her since... well, Viktor. Not really. And Ron had been jealous of Viktor then, too. The more she thought about his reaction, the more she was convinced that he did...that Ron might, in his own sweet, boyish way, like her.

Of course, McLaggen still showed her attention, even now, well past her Bloom. Most of the other boys had begun to act normally towards her after the twenty-ninth of September, a few more had taken a week to start treating her like they usually did, but McLaggen hadn't.

Anthony still seemed to be interested, especially when they sat together in their Literature lesson, and when they saw each other in the corridors, he'd walk with her, but it was starting to seem more like a friendship than an infatuation. Neville still blushed easily around her as well, but then when he'd apologized for his behavior during her Bloom two days ago, he'd admitted to always having had liking her. She liked Neville, too, but not in that special way, just fondly, and that wasn't the same as liking him like him, like she would a boyfriend.

Colin Creevey and Sebastian Kirchner were still acting the same as when she'd been Blooming, going out of their way to say "Hiya, Hermione," to her, but sometimes it seemed more of a game for them than a flirtation. Ron was utterly indifferent to them, occasionally saying "Hi" back offhandedly. And William Green, Gryffindor's seventh-year prefect, was still paying her a bit more attention. Not as much as during her Bloom, but more than he'd done in the past.

Aldebaran Urguhart and Rayne Boughton were still polite to her, but then they were both Slytherin's prefects, and the only time she dealt with them was in the prefect meetings. However, Ron and Green always sat next to her in the meetings, although Green was treating her the same as he'd done before her Bloom, Ron was clearly annoyed when Green paid too much attention to her. But Green was seeing Katie this year, so his attention wasn't flirtatious, it was just politeness, wasn't it? Besides, she didn't like Green that way. At least, she didn't think so.

Malfoy was the only surprise. Whenever she passed him in the corridors, and they were alone, their interaction was the same before. In place of his usual derision and sneer, he merely grunted at her with a nod of his head as he hurried past her or told her curtly to move. Of course, when he had one of his friends with him or there was another student, he said, "Granger," in the normal sneering fashion, but he didn't make any of the cutting snide comments like he used to. He was obviously distracted and not his usual self this year. He looked worried, somewhat anxious... and she'd heard that he wasn't doing as well in his lessons this year, which was really shocking.

Alchemy and Arithmancy were hard subjects, but Malfoy had always done well in them before. Moreover, he seemed to be slacking in Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, and Herbology as well. It was like he was fed up with school, or didn't put forth the effort anymore to beat her scores in those subjects like he used to, and that wasn't at all like him. But then, having your father in Azkaban could have devastating repercussions on anyone, especially someone as proud as Draco Malfoy. It certainly explained his lack of vitriol toward her, even though she'd been one of the people who'd been questioned about the events in the Ministry that had led to his father's arrest.

But Ron, Ron hadn't changed much when she'd been on her Bloom; he hadn't treated her any differently then, and he wasn't all that different now. He'd been, well, Ron.

Hermione had watched Ron slyly all afternoon and this evening, analyzing his recent actions. She'd remembered that he'd been jealous of Seamus' attentions toward her... Of course that was when she was Blooming, so she'd discounted it at the time, but he'd done it again yesterday, too. And Ron had maneuvered Neville out of the way in Herbology a few times so he could stand next to her during her Bloom... but when they'd been told to get into small groups in class that morning and harvest the puffapods from the Snargaluff stumps, Ron had grabbed her elbow and guided her to join him and Harry, not that she wouldn't have in the first place. She'd smiled at him, glad that he wanted her with him on the project, as she'd put on her gloves, and his ears had turned slightly pink.

In retrospect, he'd been jealous of any guy who showed her any interest this year, something she hadn't noticed him doing last year.

Now she wondered if maybe there was more to his behavior than she'd realized before. She liked Ron, and lately she was finding it very hard to understand him. Naturally, he still asked her for her help on his homework, but he sat next to her whenever he could, sometimes with their knees touching. He touched her more frequently, little touches, which he'd never done before. He smiled at her more often, and when she'd look up at him while reading or revising together, he'd be looking back at her as if he'd been watching her. But then, of course, he also liked the attention the other Gryffindors were giving him, especially the girls, and he smiled quite a bit at Lavender, too.

She bit her lip, watching him slyly from under her fringe as she regarded Ron. He was rewriting his essay, making all her corrections and suggestions like he always did. He looked up, their eyes met, and he smiled, really smiled, and it made her cheeks feel warm.

Yes, it could be possible. Ron Weasley likes me!

Hermione turned her attention back to her essay on conjuring spells, the fundamentals of magical manifestation and their applications, focusing her attention on instantaneous versus indefinite duration designations instead of pondering the mysteries of one Ronald Weasley.

Severus watched Hermione as she demonstrated the various parrying movements, correcting her as needed. Although she was flawless in telling him what the position of her hand and the movement should be, they were awkward for her. He was hardly surprised. His twice weekly lessons with Hermione were paying off though, even though he was finding it harder to find reasons to give her the supposed detentions.

Minerva had asked him why he was continuing working with Hermione, and was deeply concerned that it was due to damage from her Surges, but he'd assured the old hen that her cub was fine, that he simply wanted her to become well adjusted to her increased strength. She nodded thoughtfully, as if she didn't believe him, and said she'd inform the Headmaster of his continued lessons...not that the Headmaster wasn't already aware of the fact.

In fact, in their bi-weekly meetings, Hermione's progress was one of the things that he and the old man discussed while Severus administered Dumbledore his dose of potion and Severus tried the series of counter-curses to retard the effects of the curse in Dumbledore's hand. The old man also inquired after Severus' progress, or lack thereof, in regards to Draco's task, something with which he'd made no progress at all.

Not that it was helping all that well. On more than one occasion, Severus had had to Apparate across the country to meet up with the old man, each time in a different place. Why Severus had been called away from the castle (instead of the Headmaster of the school returning himself and actually residing in the school he was running), or what Dumbledore was up to, the old man wouldn't say, but at least Minerva and the Heads of House all had the school well in hand and things were presently running smoothly.

Bloody, meddlesome old fool. Dumbledore had accepted his reasoning for training Hermione to fight with a sly smile and that damnable twinkle in his eyes. As if he'd be inappropriate with the girl! She was his student, he was her teacher, and that was the end of it. If he trained her, she'd most likely train Potter, like she had in her fifth year. There was nothing to be getting on with, as the Headmaster had put it, and Severus had been extra waspish in DADA to waylay any rumors to the contrary, deducting his usual sixty total points from Gryffindor.

He placed his hand on Hermione's, ignoring the softness of her skin or the warmth of her flesh, and guided her hand in the appropriate motion for the Septime. He similarly corrected her Octave, although technically she had done it right, just not perfectly, and then adjusted her movement for the Neuvieme.

"Again," he said, circling her, as he studied her movements for flaws. She did the Prime, Seconde and Tierce just fine. He was so glad that she was well past her Bloom and he was able to think clearly...more clearly...he corrected himself. He was now able to concentrate on her dueling form and not her physical form, and it was easier to suppress unbidden reminisces of her drying off in that skimpy swimsuit. He corrected the angle of her wrist for the Quarte and placed a hand on her shoulder to make her relax it. "Continue."

She did the Quinte well enough, he corrected her Sixte, but she did the Septime well this time. He adjusted her Octave movement, although it wasn't technically incorrect, and nodded as she made a fluid Neuvieme. "Once again. This time relax your shoulder and watch the angle of your wand."

She huffed in disappointment, sighing heavily, even though she nodded in acquiescence to his demand. She assumed the pose and started again.

"Relax your wrist, and don't grip your wand so tightly."

Pursing her lips in determination, she immediately complied.

"Not so loose," he admonished her softly. A strand of hair escaped her plait, the curl falling along her temple near her eye. He was so tempted to reach out... He inhaled sharply, berating himself for his distraction from the task at hand, getting a confused glance from the girl. No, woman, he told himself. She is no longer a girl; she is a fully developed and magically mature young woman. He forced himself to keep his thoughts from straying. "You don't want to keep your grip too loose or you'll be too easily disarmed," he explained. "Do all nine again, in reverse order."

She nodded silently, as she often did when she was concentrating so much on what he was saying, her expression one of focused determination, and began again.

He placed his hand on hers to correct the angle of her wand. She looked up at him, her warm brown eyes, so open and trusting, met his unwaveringly. He removed his hand immediately. "In Octave the point is down, not pointed at the floor. Continue."

That cute determined look in her eyes flashed again. "All right, sir."

She repeated the motion, this time more successfully, and he acknowledged her quick glance, the unspoken need to know if she was right, with a definitive nod, eliciting a small smile in response.

He crossed his arms, standing to the side. "Again. This time cast spells with your movements at the target dummy. In duplicates."

Her fingers tightened on her wand, expectantly, making the movements less fluid than they had been before. However, the three spells she chose to use hit the dummy with both sufficient accuracy and force.

"Again, but loosen your grip," he admonished her softly.

He strained to hold back the smirk at her cheeky, softly mumbled self-admonishment. Her determination to prove to herself she could do it right, to do as he wanted well and earn a nod of approval from him, made him chuckle to himself. His approval meant more to her than a thousand house points.

"Try the same spells on the sparring dummy."

She did as he requested and even though the velocity level was inconsistent, her accuracy and strength were acceptable.

"What did I tell you about your grip?"

Hermione turned to look at him, the tilt of her head and crease between her brows relaying her confusion.

"Pay attention to your body: relax your shoulders and arms, keep your wrist flexible and loosen your grip, but maintain enough firmness so your opponent can't disarm you," he explained.

He mentally laughed at how flustered she became.

"I just can't get them right," she stammered, almost incoherently and blushing deeply.

He had to admit it, if only to himself, that he liked it when she blushed.

"You haven't perfected the movements yet, but you are getting them right. With practice you should become quite proficient." Severus quickly shucked off his teaching robes and hung them on a hook he'd conjured on the wall and turned to face the girl. As he did, he noticed that her eyes had widened as she stared at him. "Shall we try a formal duel?" he asked as he roughly rolled up his shirt sleeve to his elbows.

Her answering smile faded slightly as she squared off to face him, that determined little glint back in her eyes. "Of course, if you like," she said as he rolled up his left sleeve, unconcerned that she could now see his Dark Mark.

He smirked when her eyes flickered from his blackened Mark to his face. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, inciting another flush to her skin. The Mark was quiet presently, but he carefully watched her reaction.

"Waverly rules or the International Wizarding Regulations?" she asked, gaining her composure, thankfully not repulsed by the cursed, raised scars and indelible pigmentation that forever marked him as a Death Eater.

He smiled at the question. He wasn't surprised she was familiar with both. "I suppose the Death Eater version would be inappropriate," he said with a smirk.

"If we do Death Eater rules...or lack thereof...shouldn't we be in the larger room?" she asked, grinning at him.

He was surprised by her challenge. "You feel ready to take me on again?"

She shook her head. "Not yet, although someday. For now, I'd like to follow Waverly; they are less restrictive, and I'm still learning the forms properly, if that's all right?"

He nodded. "Waverly it is then."

Hermione walked up to the seventh floor and stopped right next to the wall where the Room of Requirement opened. It was worth checking to see if the room would work for her again, even though the last few times she'd tried, it had remained stubbornly closed. I need a place to practice, she thought, pacing the necessary three times. To her surprise the door appeared, and she hurried inside.

She thought about going to the common room to look for Harry and Ron, but they might be in the library, although that was not too likely. If she left the room to search for them, the room might become obstinate again and refuse to open when they returned. She rummaged in her bag for her DA Galleon, finding it in a side pocket, and used it to try to get Harry and Ron to come meet and her.

Her coin vibrated as the message, H R RoR now, was relayed to the other coins.

She looked about the room, smiling at the target and sparring dummies that stood along the wall and the thick, magically cushioned mats that lay on the floor. It was just like in her fifth year when they'd had the DA meetings to learn defensive spells. Turning, she saw that the bookshelf on the back wall was stocked up with loads of books, probably all the same Defense books as before.

Neville and Colin burst through the door, followed by Dennis. "Where are Harry and Ron?" she asked confused.

"I'll get them. Don't start without me," Dennis said, running out again.

"What's happened, Hermione?" Neville asked, his expression a mixture of excitement and worry, as the door opened again.

"What's the matter?" Seamus asked, entering the room followed by Dean. They all looked at her expectantly, then around the room.

"Where are Harry and Ron?" Dean asked, looking around as if she were hiding them.

"I summoned them," she replied, unsure. Hermione wasn't expecting them; she'd wanted Harry and Ron. But they are in the DA, and if we go to war...no, when we leave Hogwarts they will be in the fight, won't they? They're not in the Order... but they will fight if there is a battle... The memory of her friends lying in the hospital from their injuries her fifth year came unbidden to her, and she made up her mind. "Well, I was reviewing some dueling techniques, and since the Room of Requirement has been, well, nonresponsive lately," both guys nodded, so she continued, "and it occurred to me that some of the dueling techniques allow you to cast two or three spells in quick succession. Seeing as how, well, we are on the side that will fight against Voldemort and the Death Eaters," Neville, Dean and Seamus cringed when she said Voldemort's name, but Colin didn't, "it might be good to know how to do the dueling moves."

Luna entered.

Great! Hermione sighed, wondering if Ron or Harry were going to come at all.

"Are we going to learn some new defensive spells, or are we going to practice what we learned before?" Luna asked, turning to the others. "In case You-Know-Who decides to try and kill Harry this year. Hello."

"Well, I'm ready for some more practice! Hiya, Luna," Colin said as the door opened again. This time it was Harry followed by Denis and finally Ron.

"What do you want?" Ron asked. Hermione repeated herself for their benefit as Cho entered with Ernie, Anthony and Michael.

"Okay, so you're going to teach us how to duel?" Dean asked before she had to repeat it for their benefit as well.

"My uncle Hamish taught me how to duel after me second year," Seamus said, grinning. "But Hermione is right; it would be good to brush up."

"Right," Neville said. "I took lessons." He flushed as everyone turned to look at him. "Gran hired a dueling instructor to teach me how these last two summer holidays; said it was high time, considering what happened in the Ministry my fifth year." The reaction to his statement was varied, but they all remembered how disastrous that adventure had been.

Hermione was impressed that Seamus and Neville had both been taught how to duel. Okay, that's three of us that know how. "Anyone else?"

"I've only ever sparred with Fred and George, but that doesn't count. There were only two rules...don't cause permanent damage, and don't get caught by mum. Oh, and there was that so-called Dueling Club Lockhart tried in second year, remember?" Ron asked. "O' course, Snape knocked him on his arse, didn't he?"

The others snickered; well, except Dennis, who looked at his brother in confusion, and Luna, who was laughing as if he'd told a particularly funny joke.

"And Harry talked to that huge snake," Colin pointed out, which Dennis had been told about, because he nodded enthusiastically.

"So are you up to learning how to duel?" Hermione asked, looking around, receiving several nods and exclamations of "Yes" or "Yeah." Harry at least looked like he was game to try dueling, as was Cho, and Ron and Dean looked eager to learn as did the others. Luna was examining something in the air near Ernie. "Right then. What I need are some posters of each of the nine parrying moves..."

Immediately, nine magical posters appeared on the wall, each depicting one of the moves Professor Snape had been teaching her in animated motion with an insert in the corner that focused on the hand and wand movement.

"Perfect." Hermione turned to face the group. "So if Seamus and Neville would demonstrate them with me," she said, hoping that they did know the moves well, "then we can show you how they are done. It takes practice, but if we get good, we may stand a chance against the Death Eaters if we have to face them again."

Ron was being a prat that morning because Harry had decided to call off Quidditch practice. Hermione knew that Harry was holding on to the hope that Katie would recover and return in time to play against Slytherin, but when Hermione had asked Leanne how Katie was doing, the girl had shaken her head, her smile replaced with a deep sorrowful expression.

Hermione leaned over Ron a bit so only he and Harry could hear her as the other students took their seats and Harry did the same. "Leanne said that the Headmaster has gone to see Katie, and apparently Professor Snape went with him, but so far she's unchanged," she said softly.

"Hi, Ron," Lavender said as she sat down behind him.

Ron turned around and smiled, making Hermione grit her teeth.

"So, has she woken up yet?" Harry asked as Ron greeted Lavender.

Hermione ignored Ron, whose ears were turning pink at whatever Lavender had said to him, and shook her head, leaning toward Harry a bit more. "Leanne told me that Madam Pomfrey said that sometimes the body will shut down like that, go into a magical coma so that it can heal itself, but, no, Katie hasn't woken up yet."

Harry straightened up in his seat, his expression both worried and annoyed. "So... all right... I'll have to find someone to fill in and have a practice soon..." He looked around, looking at Seamus and Dean in the next row.

Ron was still turned about, facing Lavender and Parvati. "I hope so...dunno why it was cancelled. It's the big game though...us against Slytherin...we need the practice."

"You'll be brilliant, Ron, I know it," Lavender gushed.

Hermione couldn't help feeling annoyed at Ron's goofy smile.

The rest of the lesson, Ron kept looking back over his shoulder. "Mr. Weasley, please face front," Professor McGonagall admonished him, taking ten points from Gryffindor for his inattention to the professor's lecture on conjuring animate objects.

"Blimey, she went on," Ron said to Harry at the end of the lesson. "Only got down half of what she said." He turned to Hermione, giving her what he must have thought was his most winning smile. "Of course, you'll let me borrow your notes, won't you, Hermione."

She wanted to say no, to tell him he should have paid attention and taken his own notes, but Ron slipped a hand on her back as he opened the door for her, saying, "Ladies, first," in the nicest way.

"Okay, you can copy what you missed tonight after I rewrite them," she said, grimacing when he chuckled.

"You could just give me the first draft, then, couldn't you?" he asked, turning when Lavender said goodbye to him as she left the classroom.

"No, you can copy down what you missed," Hermione persisted, but he wasn't looking at her. He was waving back at Lavender and Parvati, a dopey smile on his face, as the two girls waved at him while walking backwards down the corridor.

Hermione sighed. "Did you hear me, Ron?"

"Yeah," he said falling into step with Hermione and Harry. He smiled at her, his blue eyes full of warmth. "I heard you. Tonight in the common room."

She shook her head, wondering if maybe she was wrong about him. But in Herbology he acted as if nothing was amiss. Everyone sat on stools around the worktable, copying down the information on the new plant they would be working with. Ron was on the stool next to hers, and each time he looked up, he glanced at her briefly before looking at the blackboard Professor Sprout had erected in the greenhouse that day.

"Gwyddienpedium is a variety of Lady's slipper orchids," Professor Sprout said as her charmed chalk wrote the name on the backboard, "also known as Gwyddien's slipper orchids," which the chalk added on the board, "are the orchids in the subfamily Cypripedioidea, or lady slippers, which includes the genera Cypripedium, Mexipedium, Paphiopedilum, Phragmipedium and Selenipedium." The charmed chalk wrote the six phylum names Professor Sprout had emphasized. "They are characterized by the slipper-shaped pouches, or modified labellums, of the flowers. Normally, in common Cypripedioideas, the pouch traps insects so they are forced to climb up past the staminode, behind which they collect or deposit pollinia, thus fertilizing the flower." The chalk finished writing the words she'd emphasized and landed gently on the bottom ledge of the blackboard. "However, for the Gwyddienpedium, the labellums are used for digestion."

"Did everyone copy this down?" Professor Sprout asked, waiting for a few stragglers to finish writing and look up. With a swish of her wand, the board disappeared. "Who can tell me how the Gwyddienpedium 'eats'?"

Hermione raised her hand a second before Neville did. "Miss Granger," Professor Sprout said, acknowledging her.

"Both the gynostemium are like jaws, armed with four to six tiny fang-like, strong, conical teeth and rows of serrated teeth. Within labellums there are three rows of small crushing teeth. The central row has four pairs of molars and the outer rows house blunted, conical teeth," she said, quoting the book. The magical chalk had written down the scientific name of the part of the plant she'd mentioned with the proper spelling.

Neville turned to smile at her, and Ron's eyes narrowed a fraction at him.

"Very good, Miss Granger, precisely. Ten points to Gryffindor," Professor Sprout said with a huge smile. "Mr. Longbottom, what can you tell us about the digestive secretions within the labellum?"

"Bet we have to feed them," Ron whispered to her as Neville answered the question.

Hermione chuckled softly, smiling even though she nudged his shoulder with hers, saying softly, "Hush, I want to hear Neville's reply."

"What for?" Ron asked, leaning so close to her she could feel his breath on her hair. He smelled like smoky oakmoss, citrus, cedar and mint toothpaste, something he liked using ever since her parents had given him a tube. "You already read the book. I bet you could answer for him."

"Now each of you are to take your Gwydionpedium and observe the way the gynostemium clasps the insect, making the slightly masticated remains fall into the labellums."

"See? What did I tell you," Ron said and picked up a pot with a lovely plant. The three flower heads swayed softly as they all turned to face him expectantly. He placed the plant in front of Hermione and reached for another. "I just wish we had one lesson about a plant that didn't think my fingers were a snack."

Hermione and Harry both laughed softly, Hermione covering her mouth with her gloved hand, receiving an admonishment from their professor to begin.

Severus was finding it hard to come up with an excuse to put Hermione in 'detention'. Now that her Bloom was over, the boys were not paying her as much attention as before, and even Mr. Longbottom was able to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing. Not that Mr. Longbottom didn't still blush easily when he hit Hermione's shield with a particularly strong curse or hex.

Even after seven weeks of lessons on doing the basic defensive spells nonverbally, only half of the class managed to be able to do them without mumbling, whispering, or moving their lips while casting their spells. It was utterly pathetic. Not that he expected better results; those of weaker magical ability would never learn the skill. It took concentration, determination and a strong desire as well as magical strength to achieve. He watched Hermione deflect Mr. Longbottom's curse easily, and then cast one of her own at him. The boy's shield manifested, but wavered dangerously against Hermione's strong hex. At least she was giving forth proper effort.

He turned his attention to Potter and Weasley, catching Potter's lips move as he cast his hex at Weasley. "Your lips should not be moving, Mr. Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor for lack of concentration."

The Headmaster's favorite student shot him an angry glare, but he clamped his mouth shut and tried again. This time with tolerable results.

He'd never be as capable as Hermione, but then Severus could not believe that Dumbledore considered Potter to be the Dark Lord's equal. So far, the boy had scraped by on sheer dumb luck and the aid of others.

Thinking of which, Severus' mind wandered to the plight of the Headmaster.

Severus had spent most of his weekend devising a variation of the potion he brewed for Dumbledore to stave off the effects of the curse because the original potion was not penetrating the infected muscles sufficiently. However, despite his and Madam Pomfrey's best efforts, the curse had nearly spread to the old man's elbow. Wherever the old man had been when he'd been away from the school, the travel was taking a toll on him both mentally and physically. At least now Dumbledore was being consistent in keeping his appointments with the school's Matron Healer and Severus.

The last examination showed that a considerable mass of body tissue in Dumbledore's hand had already died, resulting in the formation of black iron sulfide in the tissues. Nevertheless, there was limited putrefaction according to Madam Pomfrey, thankfully, and the curse was spreading slowly, but the Headmaster's hand and half of his forearm now resembled mummified flesh and tendrils of the curse's infection still persisted even with the spells Severus used to draw the curse back down to the affected hand.

Severus sighed, as he continued his rounds, watching the students. He snapped at Miss Patil for checking her nails after blocking Miss Brown's hex. He admonished Miss Thornton-Reid for the weak curse she'd cast at Miss Burtrand and deducted points from Mr. Thomas for saying "Bugger" softly when Mr. Finnigan's curse broke past his shield, taking an additional ten points from Gryffindor for the boy's swearing. So far, neither Longbottom nor Hermione had made any mistakes.

Oh, hell with it. "Miss Granger, my office at eight o'clock tonight. Do not be late," he said, smirking at her startled glare. "Ten points from Gryffindor as well."

"What did she do?" Mr. Potter asked Mr. Longbottom.

Mr. Longbottom lowered his arm as he shrugged.

"Ten more points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for speaking. Now silence, all of you, and get back to work."

Mr. Longbottom turned his attention back toward Hermione and stood ready to defend himself from her next spell, although Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley were both glaring at Severus. It didn't matter, he would have another night with Hermione in his training room.

When the class was dismissed, Severus waited by the door, hoping to get a word with Draco. He watched the sixth-year Slytherins file pass him with a growing sense of irritability. Unfortunately, the boy arrived late. "Five points for being late to class, Mr. Malfoy. Be in my office tonight at seven."

"No," the insolent boy said.

Severus clasped his arm quickly to stop him. "What did you say?"

"You heard me," Draco hissed softly, jerking his arm free of Severus' grasp. "I don't have to tell you anything. He'll hear about this, mark me."

Severus smirked at the boy. "By all means, inform Him that you were given a detention for rudeness and defiance. You will be in my office at seven or your parents will be informed."

"And you'll be reminded that I have a task He wants done that requires me to be at school," Draco said softly with a smug expression. "So expelling me for lateness or being rude will not sit well, will it?"

"I said nothing about expulsion, Draco. I merely wish to offer my assistance..."

"I don't need your assistance," the boy snapped in a low hiss.

Severus narrowed his eyes as the boy stormed by him and into the classroom. Damn it. That went well. At least he had this evening with Hermione to look forward to.

He strode to the front of the classroom to begin the lesson, admonishing Mr. Crabbe to cease his flirtations with Miss Bulstrode. He waved his wand at the blackboard, making the list of approved curses, jinxes and hexes appear. "Mr. Goyle, Mr. Crabbe, kindly turn and face the front. Mr. Zabini, Miss Parkinson will be partnering with Miss Bulstode today." Damn. He'd have to check his list from Minerva, but it was possible that the repugnant girl was Blooming.

Hermione had no problem conjuring up the twittering yellow birds when Professor McGonagall introduced them to the spell, but looking around the classroom, she noticed that no one else succeeded in creating so much as a feather. She received five points for each little bird, and received congratulatory comments from Neville, and a smile from Ron, which in turn made Lavender and Parvati glower at Hermione. At the end of the lesson, Hermione packed up her things. Ron got up quickly and headed for the door, so she followed him out of the classroom, wondering what had him so upset.

"Oi, let's wait on Harry," he suggested, drawing her aside. He leaned against the wall to wait.

"Are you all right?" she asked, hitching the strap of her bag up so it would be more comfortable on her shoulder.

He looked at the students exiting the classroom. "Yeah." He propped his shoe up on the wall behind him and looked down at the floor.

"What is it? Tell me," she implored.

He looked at the corridor filling up with students. "I shouldn't have taken Transfiguration."

She was shocked at his statement. "Why? You're really good at it," she said, stepping closer to him. "Was it today's lesson? You nearly had it." Truth was, he'd made a tiny bit of yellow puff appear, not exactly a bird, but the right color.

He shook his head, not able to look her in the eye. Hermione tried showing him how it was done, making another yellow bird appear and circle his head. Ron stood up and tried it a few times, only managing the same formless, yellow puff appear, then leaned back against the wall, watching Hermione's bird fly around them with a deep sigh.

Hermione placed a hand on his arm. "You'll get it, Ron, you always do," she said, smiling up at him.

"But I'm not good like you," he said, putting his foot on the wall behind him again.

They both turned their heads as the classroom door banged open, and Seamus stormed out, clearly agitated by something.

"Do you think McGonagall held him after for not getting it right?" Ron asked, watching Seamus.

"Oh, I got it, Weasley," Seamus snapped back. "But then you're thick as thieves, you and Potter, aren't you?" He eyed the yellow bird flying around Ron's head. "Having your girlfriend show you how, I suppose?"

Hermione wondered what had his wand in a knot.

Ron got really irritated. "You lay off. She's not my girlfriend," he snapped, then grumbled, "Not that he did any better," as Seamus stalked away. "He couldn't even make yellow fluff."

Across the corridor, Lavender looked positively elated, giggling excitedly to Parvati.

Hermione tried not to feel disappointed by his remark about not being his girlfriend. "No, most people couldn't, Ron, but then it's new, conjuring things, isn't it?"

"You got it straight away," Ron said, sighing.

"We'll work on it until you get it," she offered, looking at him assuredly.

"I can't," he said dejectedly. "I've got Quidditch practice tonight."

Harry walked out of the classroom with Dean. "There you are," Harry said. Both he and Dean smiling. "Dean is filling in for Katie. You ready to go?"

Ron's shoulders slumped. "Okay," he said, then straightened up. "Yeah, let's eat quickly so we can go practice."

The guys talked Quidditch maneuvers all the way up to the common room. At least Ron's mood had lightened by the time they scrambled inside. After dinner, Hermione watched the boys leave to get their brooms, wishing that she had time to go watch them practice. Instead, she went up to her room to change and headed for the dungeons.

Ron had been giving the cold-shoulder to both Hermione and Ginny ever since Quidditch practice, and even though Harry had tried to keep a truce between them, Hermione was hard pressed to understand what she'd done.

The night before, Hermione had sat in the common room, rewriting her Transfiguration notes into the journal she used for the subject. McLaggen had been bemoaning about the Quidditch practice at a nearby table, saying, "... even sick on doxy eggs and hung-over, I'd still be a better Keeper than Weasley."

Apparently, Ron hadn't done so well at Keeping. "The new Beaters, Peakes and Coote, they're both doing well, and Dean flew well enough with Ginny and Demelza...so he's all right, but Ron...Merlin, what a wanker," McLaggen said, affirmed by both Hooper and Dunstan.

Hermione had bit her lip to keep from speaking up. She knew Ron was only suffering from nerves and lack of confidence, but she knew that Ron had overheard their conversation.

"You should've seen him, he was flailing all over the place," Dunstan sneered, which made Hooper laugh. "He even panicked over that one block and punched the new girl...what's her name, Robins?...in the mouth, knocking out a tooth and giving her a split lip."

"Potter and Weasley had to take her to the hospital to be sorted out," Green stated.

There was no talking to Ron or Harry that night; Ron had sat sulking on the sofa, snapping at anyone who paid him attention, and Harry had spent his time diligently, albeit a bit too focused, on his Charms essay. By the time Hermione had gone to bed, Ron was swearing loudly, even snapping at some first-years for looking at him.

Hermione had tried to reassure him the next morning that he would be brilliant on Saturday, but he'd snapped at her, making her have to fight back tears. She convinced herself it was merely nerves and his low self-esteem, but it had still hurt.

Nevertheless, the following practice Ron was so horrible, so aggressive, and bellowing at everyone for his mistakes that Harry had to yell at him. However, that only made Ron depressed, and he tried to quit the team.

"Ron, you're not bad at Quidditch! I've seen you make some really good saves," she said as they sat alone in a small, empty classroom Professor Snape had shown her in her fifth year. She'd found him in there, alone, sulking. He'd yelled at her to leave, but she hadn't, plucking up the nerve to sit with him until he acknowledged her.

"I can't, I'm no good," he bemoaned again.

"You'd be fine if you just believed in yourself," she said, smiling reassuringly. "It's like everything we do, you have to know you can. It's like in class...you always get it after a while. You just have to trust in your magic and concentrate on your determination and intent. I don't fly much," she paused when he smirked at her. "Well, you know what I mean. But at the tryouts you got the most saves. And I've seen you at the Burrow against Harry and Ginny. You can block them all right." She had to prove it to him somehow. "Try making the bird again."

"That's different," he said, flicking his wand in the air. He only managed a bird-shaped piece of fluff with a few feathers.

Hermione showed him where he was flourishing his wand too much. She nudged him to copy her and showed him again. "There you got it! Try it now."

A large puff ball with wings appeared and fell with a plop.

"That's better! Try again, only breathe deep and concentrate on what you want, be determined," she suggested.

He flicked his wand, this time the large winged puff ball fluttered in the air for a while, and then fell to the desk, making a yellow mess.

"It flew, that's improvement, try again," she encouraged him.

After three more tries, he conjured an actual bird. Well, it was fluffy as if it had come out of a dryer, but it had wings, a beak and flew about her head. "Wonderful!"

"It's not as good as yours," he said dejectedly.

"Ron, it's better. Besides, with how low you've been feeling lately, it's right good," she said, giving his arm a squeeze with her hand.

When they returned to the common room, Ron's spirits were a little better, but he was still talking about quitting Quidditch if he failed next match. He stopped on the other side of the common room entrance, blocking her. "For pity's sake, Ron, move," she said, giving his lankly legs a gentle shove to get his attention.

Apparently, Lavender had caught his attention as he clambered through the portrait hole. He stood up to let Hermione in, but had only taken three steps. When Hermione finally stood up, she saw Lavender standing only two yards from Ron, beaming at him, flipping her hair and batting her eyes. Ron became flustered, and his ears turned a bright red as he said hello to her. Hermione tried to control the anger she felt toward her dorm mate; Hermione knew that Lavender was Blooming – Lavender knew that she was Blooming, and obviously Ron was clearly affected by Lavender's Allure. Had the girl no shame?

Ron remained still, watching her as if entranced, which in fact he was. "Ron... Ron," Hermione called out, trying to gain his attention, to no avail. "Oh move over," she sneered and shoved past, going up to her room. If he wanted help on his essay or spellwork, he could bloody well ask bloody Lavender Brown for it!

~ T. B. .C. ~