As soon as Hermione had revived Justin from the Stunning Spell, the Head Boy insisted on escorting her to the Gryffindor tower. The usual Saturday party in the common room was in full swing, and the Hufflepuff was greeted warmly. Hermione answered Ginny's coldly asked question about the D.A. galleons, and Justin received two bottles of butterbeer from Seamus.
Hermione settled onto the couch and took two sips from her bottle, savoring the icy chill spreading down her throat. Her cheeks were flushed, and she felt completely thrown off. Malfoy had been right—Tennant had followed Justin and was waiting for her. And then Malfoy… had stunned Tennant? It was hard to believe, but the undeniable evidence had been lying right there in the third-floor corridor. Death Eater traps certainly didn't include buttercups.
She found herself absentmindedly stroking a leaf of the Cowardly Bindweed, which was spilling out of its red pot on the small table. A thin vine had wrapped itself around the armrest of the couch. Apparently, Neville had successfully built the plant's self-esteem enough for it to tolerate being around people.
Justin, on the other hand, looked far less comfortable. He stood over her, his diamond-patterned sweater making him look like the living embodiment of a disapproving Head Boy, his lips pressed so tightly together that his mouth had practically disappeared from his face.
"Sit down, Justin, for Godric's sake." Hermione patted the couch cushion.
Justin sat beside her and unscrewed his butterbeer bottle. He reached for Hermione's cap as well, then carefully placed both caps on the table with meticulous precision.
A burst of laughter erupted by the fireplace, punctuated by the occasional noise of Exploding Snap cards. Hermione smiled, watching the first-years pretend to launch paper balls through a hoop using wandless magic—basic sleight of hand.
Justin's expression, however, remained grim.
"I might not have seen it," he said, continuing their earlier conversation, "but I know a Death Eater stunned me in that classroom."
Hermione agreed with him but couldn't say so out loud.
"Why would he do that?" she asked evasively. "As you can see, I'm perfectly fine."
"It's Draco Malfoy," Justin said, as if that explained everything. When Hermione didn't respond, he continued. "He didn't want me in Classroom C. He threatened to throw me off the Astronomy Tower if I went to meet you!"
Hermione was shocked.
"He did not!"
Justin tensed, offended that she'd doubted his words.
"He absolutely did. This afternoon, to be precise."
"He would never throw you off the Astronomy Tower," Hermione said stubbornly.
"It's Draco Malfoy."
Well, yes. He was Draco Malfoy. They sipped butterbeer in silence—Hermione drinking from the bottle, Justin from a glass he'd conjured for himself. Malfoy had tried to stop Justin from coming to the meeting, and when that didn't work, he tried to warn Hermione. And then he… stunned Justin. And Tennant.
Hermione looked around the room, trying to process it all. Seamus was losing a chess match to Michael Corner. The scene reminded her of nights spent watching Harry and Ron play chess while she knitted hats for S.P.E.W. It felt like a lifetime ago.
"Are you going to tell the Headmistress?" Hermione asked Justin. She hadn't yet decided what to do about Tennant, but she definitely didn't want the Head Boy complicating matters. And she especially didn't want Malfoy sent back to Azkaban.
"Not yet," Justin said in a tone that suggested he alone determined Malfoy's fate. "I'll admit, I don't have any proof. But I reserve the right to report him if I see fit."
Hermione rolled her eyes. It was very generous and fair of him not to report Malfoy, but he didn't have to be so… Justin about it.
"One thing I will say," he declared weightily, "no more meetings in classrooms. As Head Boy, I feel responsible for your safety."
She nodded.
"We could meet in the Hufflepuff dungeons."
"We won't be able to repair the clock in the common room," he noted. "Too many Puffskeins bouncing around."
"Then maybe your bedroom," Hermione said without thinking.
Justin blinked.
"That would be entirely inappropriate."
Hermione blushed. Of course. Nights spent with Malfoy had clearly corrupted her moral compass.
Justin took out his wand and cast a Muffliato.
"Hermione," he said gently, "I'm flattered by your interest in me."
"I'm not—"
Justin's clear voice cut her off.
"But you must understand that, as a prefect, I adhere to a strict code of conduct regarding women."
"Of course," Hermione said, hoping to change the subject.
No such luck.
"You must consider your reputation," Justin said, pouring more butterbeer into his glass. "I know Gryffindors can be… uh… passionate and impulsive." He glanced at Parvati, who was curled up with Dean Thomas on the windowsill. Then he turned back to Hermione. "But we must control our baser instincts."
"Justin, it's fine," Hermione said. More than fine—she couldn't even understand why she'd included Justin in D.O.R.G.A.N. to begin with. Did he really think she was trying to seduce him in that creepy classroom? What kind of psychopath even would?
"Hermione, I hope you'll always consider me a friend, and I urge you to resist your perfectly natural attraction to my—"
"It's fine," Hermione snapped. "I was just thinking of a safe place to meet."
Even if she had wanted something with Justin—which she didn't—it wouldn't have worked. Not when she spent every night in Malfoy's bed. Even if they weren't… Her cheeks burned just thinking about that phantom kiss in the first-floor alcove.
Naturally, Justin misread her blush. He was now smirking into his glass, flattered by what he believed were her clumsy attempts at seduction.
"I have an excellent guide to magical courtship rituals, Hermione," he said. "I could lend it to you. It's a valuable Victorian relic—men were expected to take the initiative in such matters, and I try to follow cultural norms when—"
"Justin, for Merlin's sake—"
"I feel a moral obligation to offer you my mentorship—"
"I don't need mentorship!" Hermione's raised voice startled the Cowardly Bindweed beside her, which began curling back into its pot.
Justin smirked—very uncharacteristically for a Hufflepuff.
"Are you saying that beautiful camellia in your hair is just a coincidence?"
Hermione blinked.
— "A beautiful what in my hair?"
— "Apologies." Justin ran his hand through her curls and extracted a large red flower.
— "Don't be embarrassed, Hermione, it's very flattering," he said, returning the flower. "But perhaps a bit premature. A daisy would have been more appropriate for your intentions."
"I'm not…" Hermione began, then sighed, giving up. She had no idea how a camellia ended up in her hair, but she had some guesses—and honestly, stranger things had happened to her in this castle.
She set down her butterbeer.
"It's getting late."
Justin took the hint and stood up, placed his glass on the table, and lifted the Muffliato. Hermione had to resist the urge to grab the prefect by the hand and shove him out of the common room. Who knew what he'd think of such wanton behavior.
They paused again in the corridor, out of the Fat Lady's earshot.
"Be careful on the way back," she told Justin. "It's a long walk to the dungeons."
"I can take care of myself," Justin said stiffly, clearly still miffed about being recently stunned. He frowned at her. "Be careful with Malfoy."
"I'm not afraid of him," Hermione said.
Justin gave her a stern look.
"And I'll owl you that book. Remember—not all wizards are virtuous."
"Really." Hermione's patience was wearing thin. "Why don't you tell me all about villainy and atrocities, Justin, since I was just safely hiding during the war."
"That's different, it's—"
"I can handle Malfoy," Hermione repeated firmly.
Justin shook his head.
"Gryffindors. Always rushing into danger. As a young witch, you—" Hermione's glare sharpened by the second, and he cleared his throat.
"I just want to help," he said gently.
Hermione sighed. It was impossible to stay mad at Hufflepuffs for long.
"I know," she said. "And thank you."
Justin nodded and walked away, still slightly offended.
She looked curiously at the red flower in her hand, then tucked it back into her hair before returning to the common room and heading upstairs.
Her bedroom was in complete chaos. Crookshanks was chasing a tiny gray owl, knocking over lamps and small objects. The cat's golden eyes burned with hunger, but the owl clearly thought this was a game, hooting and zigzagging around the room with a thin scroll tied to its leg.
"Sooty!" Hermione cried. "Crookshanks, stop it right now!"
Crookshanks was already on her desk, ready to leap, while Sooty hovered above the fireplace, hooting louder upon seeing Hermione.
"Stop it, Crookshanks!" Hermione repeated. "Come here, Sooty."
The owl flew to Hermione's shoulder and perched there like a miniature Puffskein.
"Well, Sooty," Hermione said, stroking the fluffy owl with her finger, "you really shouldn't tease Crookshanks like that." She removed the scroll from Sooty's leg.
It was a letter from Ron, to her greatest surprise. After months of silence, why now?
Hermione,
I hope everything's all right at Hogwarts. The shop's been mental lately. I had to leave the Auror program—training was crazy, the food was terrible, and everyone kept calling me "the terrier." Harry stayed, because he likes to suffer, and his Patronus has a decent name.
Hermione collapsed onto the floor, her knees giving out. Harry? Ron and Harry made up? When did that happen? Did Ron take a Bludger to the head during training? She swallowed hard and kept reading.
As if that wasn't enough, Mum's gone and fiddled with her clock again. Now it's hyper-sensitive—hands spinning out over the smallest things. George took the wrong aisle in the joke shop and the clock showed "LOST"—Mum showed up screaming. First time I got a bruise in training, the hand spun to "MORTAL PERIL"—Mum stormed the Head Auror's office.
Bill drops by the Burrow from time to time to try fixing it. Apparently the goblins don't appreciate Mum bursting into Gringotts every time he gets a paper cut. But even Bill can't re-enchant it—there's some cursed magic on the thing.
Hermione couldn't stop smiling. This was so like Ron—to write a letter chatting about his family as if nothing had ever happened. The tight knot in her chest loosened slightly. And she giggled, picturing Bill—the great Curse-Breaker—utterly helpless against his mum's magic.
Anyway, I'm writing because there'll be a piece in the Prophet tomorrow, and Sue says I should give you a heads-up. Skeeter claims I'm dating Susan Bones, and for once she's right.
Sue left the Auror program too—never really fit her, even though her whole family died. She's training to be a Healer now. Not sure how the Prophet sniffed it out—we haven't been doing anything special, just staying in and eating fish and chips.
Hope you're enjoying being back at Hogwarts. Sounds worse than Auror training—but at least it's a quiet, calm school year for you.
—Ron
Hermione stared at the parchment in her hands. Ron had never written her such a long letter. Never. Susan Bones? Why had Hermione never thought of her? A Hufflepuff—she was perfect for Ron. He must really care about Susan, if he was willing to forgive both Hermione and Harry.
A soft chirp sounded under her chin. Sooty nuzzled against her neck, responding to her shift in mood. Crookshanks growled from the desk.
"We're friends again," she told the little owl. Merlin, she loved Hufflepuffs. Even Justin and Ernie Macmillan (who was striding around the castle these days spewing wedding plans. His fiancée must be a saint). Tomorrow, Hermione would send Susan and Ron a basket of fruit and sweets, though Ron would probably eat most of it.
Hermione clutched the scroll to her chest and burst into tears. Sooty nuzzled against her neck.
"He doesn't hate me," she whispered.
She felt something brush against her jeans and opened her eyes to see Crookshanks curled up beside her, paw resting on her leg.
"Good boy, Crooks," she whispered, petting him. "We're all friends, yeah?" She sniffled. "All friends."
Hermione didn't know how long she sat there, crying, rereading the letter, stroking her owl and her cat. But by the time she came back to herself, it was already dark outside. Her heart felt lighter, as if she had shed some weight of guilt, grief, and hopelessness. Every word in that letter had meant so much. Ron didn't hate her. Susan had seen Ron's kindness and loyalty. Hermione would send them a very large basket.
She sat down at her desk, its surface covered in scattered parchment and toppled picture frames—thanks to Crookshanks.
Dear Ron and Susan,
Thank you for your letter. That's wonderful news. George is lucky to have you at the shop, Ron. Susan, you'll make an amazing Healer…
Hermione wrote a paragraph about how great everything was, how interesting her classes were, thank you very much. She even added a few lines about her magical astronomical clock (so Ron could roll his eyes and call her a "swot") and about Trelawney's antics in Divination (leaving out, of course, the fact that her partner was Malfoy).
Then she tied the letter to Sooty's leg and gave both animals a stern lecture about proper behavior. Crookshanks curled up on her bed, ignoring her, while Sooty chirped happily, eager for the flight.
After releasing the owl out the window, Hermione grabbed her beaded bag and approached the Foe-Glass. Ron wasn't the only Weasley who mattered. The image in the mirror remained foggy and shadow-like, except for a twitching dark figure peeking through a web of cracks. She stepped closer, trying to make it out, her nose nearly touching the glass, but the shape remained blurred.
Turning, Hermione set her open bag on the floor. The Foe-Glass was heavy for its size, and she didn't want to damage it further, so she wrapped it in cushioning charms before tucking it into her bag.
It was time to talk to Ginny.