Chapter 6
The following morning, Arthur made good on his promise to get Hermione into an Order meeting. Pride swelled in her chest after their brief conversation before he left for work. She was going to be involved in an actual mission. The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating.
There was a meeting tonight to discuss a mission to retrieve Harry from the Dursleys and the Order was too small to pull off the plan they had concocted. So, along with enlisting Hermione’s help, they pulled the twins,—who were yet to be officially inducted into the Order—Ron, Fleur, and an Order member by the name of Mundungus Fletcher.
Hermione’s mind had been quiet, no remarks from Malfoy on things he shouldn’t be privy to. In fact, the only thing that had occupied her mind in the last few hours was the oddly protective bubble Ron had put her in.
After her talk with Ginny, the girls came down to find Ron attach himself to Hermione’s hip. His mother would ask them as a pair to do a chore that only required one person to complete. At dinner, he typically sat across from her, but instead he forced Ginny in front of her so he could sit next to her. He refused to move a few feet from her for longer than five minutes. Then at breakfast, he attempted to make her plate.
Ginny put an end to that peculiarity before it even began, making Hermione eternally grateful for the youngest Weasley. When Hermione ran to her and Ginny’s shared bedroom after talking with Arthur, she was happy to slip to Ron that she had an emergency of the sensitive nature to make him leave her alone. To her delight, he backed off and sent Ginny to help her. The two girls talked for ten minutes on what in Godric’s name had caused the boy to act like that.
She was still sitting on her bed, avoiding the bizarre behavior of her best friend when she decided she should check in with Malfoy. Why she needed to check in with him was beyond her, but she attributed the urge to the prophecy and her magic saving him, not with her conscious mind making logical decisions.
Malfoy? How she was supposed to call for him was ridiculous, but since he didn’t explain how this connection worked last night like she asked him to, she supposed he owed her.
Yes, Granger? Came his aristocratic drawl.
What was she supposed to say? Could he hear all of her thoughts? This was still a lot to process. How are you doing?
“’How are you doing?’” She said aloud. “What on earth am I thinking?”
I am doing well, Granger. How are you doing? The end of his question betrayed him and she knew he was laughing at the ridiculous question.
Fine. I am doing fine.
Oh, is that why for the last hour I have been bombarded with thoughts of Ronald Weasley and his ‘bizarre behavior’?Because you’re fine?
Busted. She huffed and made her way to the door of the bedroom. She could always continue to ignore him, and if he said something, she’s told enough lies to cover her facial expressions. Keeping the biggest secret of her life from everyone she knew for the last two years was enough to make her a professional at holding herself together when dealing deceit.
Is that a challenge? I could certainly think of a few things that may rattle your expression. Even though she couldn’t see him, wasn’t even in the vicinity of the wizard, she could tell he was smirking.
Kindly explain to me how this connection works. Or at least what you have gathered since you have been able to read my thoughts for months and chose to stay silent. She decided this conversation was private and she didn’t feel like juggling Ron physically and Malfoy mentally at the same time. But give me five minutes so I can tell Ginny to keep the family away from me.
Without waiting for him to agree, she threw the bedroom door open and came face to face with Ron. “Where is Ginny?”
“Mum sent her to work in the garden to get the gnomes under control,” he said. There was a slight smile on his face, and he was pulling a thread from his blue jumper. “I was wondering if we could talk for a second?”
Oh, for Salazar’s sake. You are going to make me sick and I truly can’t afford to be sick all over my mother’s lovely sitting room. She’d have my head.
Hermione tried to hide her amusement at the idea of Narcissa Malfoy’s pinched expression if her only son were to suddenly be sick on an expensive throw pillow. Hush and try biting into a banana.
Is that the muggle version of telling me to go fuck myself?
Ron was looking at her funny and she realized she was smiling slightly. “Oh, sure. I just need to grab Ginny for a second afterwards.”
The red-head nodded and grabbed her arm, leading her in the direction of his room in the attic. Truly these were the times she longed for a different form of communication in the wizarding world. In the muggle world, if she had wanted to speak to Ginny, she could have had it done within seconds.
Game face on, Granger, Malfoy’s tone was strained in her mind. She hadn’t had him in her mind long, but she was getting used to the tone that was slightly relaxed, kind even. This is your shining moment with your Gryffindor knight.
The last word stirred a memory from the back of her mind. It was third year, after Ron and Harry refused to talk to her during what was dubbed The Broom Incident in Gryffindor. She was in the library studying (read: avoiding the common room) when two voices came around the corner. Nott and Malfoy. Malfoy made a face, but Nott seemed to give her a nod.
“Where are your bodyguards?” He said. “Did the noble nitwits finally leave you in peace to study?”
Malfoy seemed to hide a laugh behind a scowl. “Oh, please Nott. Haven’t you heard? The ginger Gryffindor knight gave quite a show denouncing his resident bookworm as too swotty for her own good after the noble Gryffindor knight received a mysterious broom in the mail.”
Nott seemed to take this into consideration. “Hmm, well in that case, give them hell, Granger.”
His blond companion nodded in agreement. “Give them worse.”
Hermione didn’t say a word, just stared at them with shock. Malfoy and Nott didn’t seem interested in provoking her. And Nott told her to give her best friends hell. And Malfoy agreed. Before she could ask what they meant, the pair disappeared between the stacks of books in the library.
The memory faded, leaving Hermione to question that later. Now, she took Malfoy’s advice and put her game face on. Ron’s room was smaller than Ginny’s, and a lot messier too, as he was a teenage boy. He pulled her over to the beds that sat facing one another. Harry would be sharing this room with him in a matter of days, like he usually does when he stays at the Burrow.
Hermione sat on the bed that was made, assuming it would be Harry’s. Ron took his bed and grabbed her hands in his. Why does he keep grabbing my hands?
The snarky chuckle in her head told her she was missing a key element to this whole situation, but Malfoy of all people figured it out. Darling, you are the Brightest Witch this world has seen supposedly, and you can’t figure out your best friend is about to ask you for more?
Before she could react to that, Ron started speaking. “Hermione, I wanted to ask you something.”
You owe me five Galleons for having to witness this, Malfoy said snidely.
You could always butt out of my head and save your mother’s throw pillows, she shot back.
Never.
She nodded at Ron to continue, trying to ignore the presence of Malfoy she swore she could feel in her brain. Ron squeezed her hands tightly and opened his mouth to speak.
“Okay, here goes. Mione, I know I was a prat this past year with Lav and then not taking you to Slughorn’s Christmas party that you were excited for. I realized I made a commitment to you and then didn’t make good on that promise to take you.” He sounded so sincere, so excited. “Mum told me to choose happiness in whatever form it was given to me while everyone was preparing for war. Said it was only a matter of time before the Order inducted us, and she wants us to remain normal teenagers for a little while longer. So, before Harry gets here, I wanted to ask if you would like to be my date for Bill and Fleur’s wedding next week?”
Hermione was speechless. This was everything she wanted: Ron finally seeing her as a girl, as someone he would date. She should feel giddy. And she does, but the timing. Tonight they would be going to an Order meeting, going out on a mission.
She let a small silence stretch for a little, hoping that Ron took that as her reveling in the admission he gave her. We are at war, she wanted to tell him. We are at war, and our side’s one leader expected us to be soldiers but never prepared us to be anything more than pawns. How can I sit here and revel in a potential relationship when I feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water these days? How can you ignore the pain and suffering around you?
But she couldn’t say that. It wasn’t what Hermione Granger, Gryffindor’s princess and resident swot, defender of the house elves, would say. It definitely wasn’t what Hermione Granger, best friend to Harry Potter would say either.
Granger, you are allowed to have a sense of self-preservation sometimes. His voice was not helping her.
She smiled at Ron, a bright, normal smile. Then she threw her arms around his neck and told him she would be delighted to take this form of happiness with him.
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The group set to attend the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix had less than two hours before the floo would take them away. Unsure if they were still using the house Sirius had left, Grimmuald Place, Hermione wanted to be prepared for anything.
Most of her stuff was packed in her bag, but she took time to look around her belongings at the Burrow. The blanket from her parents’ house, shoes, dresses, and her Hogwarts trunk filled with her old school books from first and second year and her uniform.
Hermione had told Ron she was going to lay down for a bit before the meeting, after agreeing to be his date. Malfoy had been quiet again, but she assumed he would still be willing to talk about the connection between them. Ron said he would tell Ginny and the others not to disturb her, and she found herself pacing the room, wondering what questions she could ask Malfoy that would be beneficial to helping prevent him from seeing specific things.
Why would you want to protect things from me? He sounded slightly hurt.
Malfoy, you are a Death Eater. Your ancestral home is currently overflowing with Death Eaters and I assume Voldemort himself. Why wouldn’t I be conscious about what you do or do not know? She didn’t mean to sound snappish and bossy, but after years of telling off Harry and Ron about the obvious, it was natural to gravitate to her snappy and bossy voice.
Malfoy seemed to take a pause before responding. When his voice filled her mind once more, she detected the bitterness in his words.
Granger, let’s get one thing straight here: I may be a Death Eater, but I am fighting for one thing, and one thing only. I am a trained Occlumens, as you very well know from our conversation the other day, and I am one hundred percent set on getting those I care about safely through this war. After this prophecy, I am placing my bets on you; not Potter, not the Order, you. He paused again to let his words sink in. We are tied by fate, whether we are on opposite sides of the war or not, so we will work together in our minds—which were first and second in our class, by the way—to get Potter to victory. Place your bets on me, like I placed mine on you.
Hermione was stunned silent. ‘I’m placing my bets on you.’ He sounded sincere in their meeting, and every interaction they had since the night in the Astronomy Tower, where he tried to keep her out of Dumbledore’s clutches with another prophecy.
Fine. I won’t keep stuff from you intentionally, but you’ll have to swear on your life no one will know what Harry, Ron, and I do.
Granger, voice no longer bitter, just tired, my life is forfeit if anyone found out about us.
The wave of sadness that went through her body was visceral. This boy… this poor boy who was forced to be a solider, forced to worry about whether he would live to see the next day. We are all too young to worry about things such as torture and death.
Hermione wanted to be anywhere but here, in the Burrow. She wanted to be in a place where this was a distant memory, or just a nightmare that would never come to be. Malfoy was quiet for a few minutes while she processed her emotions away.
When he did finally say something, he offered her an out. Would you like to meet in the house to talk about this connection? My current environment is becoming increasingly hard to repress this headache that is forming.
I have to be somewhere at 6.
Then we will be quick.