HPNS- Chapter 16

FIRE AND WATER

Read Chapter 15 here or start at the beginning

The Elfish Wine had quite an effect on Hermione’s brain and she felt warm and silly as she walked arm in arm with Michael. The Hogsmeade streets were quite empty and Hermione didn’t care that the frequency of cloaked figures was increasing. It didn’t matter that Josh, Ginny and Harry had left early. It was now that the ends of her nerves had loosened and she felt incredibly safe in Michael’s arms. He lit a pipe and warm smoke wafted out in spirals that Hermione gazed at lazily. The smell of smoked wood descended onto his crisp white shirt and cravat, and she took full breaths of the intoxicant.

“I had a charming time this evening with you Hermione” Michael said, calmly brushing stray brown hairs away from her face. She mumbled back contently.

They walked a fair distance down the village discussing more of their careers and lives. A strong cold breeze fluttered the roof tops of the houses and simultaneously something stirred within Hermione.

“Michael, I should be getting home. It’s not safe outside anymore and it’s getting quite late”, she said firmly.

He held her closer and said with a note of finality in his voice “We’ll walk back together”

Hermione blushed and lightly protested saying that she could manage to make it to her apartment alone. But Michael held her hand and they walked towards her home slowly.

The silence grew prolonged and was quite a give-away, until Hermione said, “Will you tell me what spell you used to remove the wine stains I spilled on your shirt this evening? It seems a useful spell”

“Later- later, not just now, Hermione” Michael murmured in her ear, and fondled the nearest ear lobe. It echoed inside her brain, where all instinct and guard was being suppressed for this wonderful oblivion she was experiencing. The walk home didn’t feel tiresome at all, as the couple floated up to the driveway of King’s Abbot where Hermione lived.

She felt as though she heard a rustling behind the dandelion hedge but ignored it. She looked up at him sweetly as he stood at the doorway, her front door was ajar.

“Would you like to come in for some coffee?” she asked him a little nervously as she hadn’t cleaned up that day according to her usual standards.

“I’m fine thank you. In fact I have to go for work early tomorrow. I’ll be taking leave of you then Hermione” Michael replied pleasantly, blowing out more smoke. She stared at him wistfully, wondering if this was going too fast or too slow. Michael was slowly walking away, his posture perfect and spine upright. A small low sigh escaped Hermione’s lips before she shut the door on a memorable evening. But there was more.

He turned around and walked up the stairs once more. He took her trembling hands in his and asked “Would you like to accompany me to the Annual Auror’s Fund Raiser Ball next week? I’m not too fond of dancing, but now it seems a foolish waste not to be asking such a beautiful companion for another evening together”

Hermione blinked at him for a moment.

He was asking her out himself - and to the Auror’s Ball - which she herself had wanted to attend so badly - but she had been waiting for an invitation - from Ron.

“I-I of course I will Michael” she replied finally, breaking into a smile. As expected, Michael smiled back appreciatively.

What she didn’t expect was him closing into her and sweeping her into a kiss.

She felt herself shrink back a little while he kissed her with immense decorum. His lips tasted a little burnt and bitter from the tobacco and the taste slipped down Hermione’s throat. She felt his fingers move on her waist and they had sliced the steak at dinner. One hand entwined itself in her presently tidy hair. Hermione’s brain cleared out and she suddenly became aware of all that was happening. Her eyes flew open to find Michael’s shut tight before her, in passion. A small wetness was beginning to spread between their connection. She knew this was not right; she was disappointed and beginning to hate it. This was different from her first kiss with Viktor. This was more virile but strangely empty. This was not right…

But there was some power that held her back from pushing away. The first time is never perfect. Michael had been wonderful for all this time; she had enjoyed their brief interaction. In fact a moment ago, she was very certainly infatuated by him. She could give him another chance- she could give them another chance. She’d ensure that he wasn’t smoking the next time. Perhaps her social life was so outdated because of her career and the war that she had forgotten that a goodnight kiss was quite harmless on a first date.

Hermione had long lost her breath and couldn’t retrieve it. She felt as hard and cold as an idol. Her body stiffened instead of giving away or melting into Michael’s as it should. She began to count house-elves in her head…

What would Ron say if he saw her kissing like this?

Would he feel the same hate she had felt when she had seen him with Lavender, or more recently- Esmè?

Would he never speak to her again?

Would he go back to Esmè?

Had she lost her chance with him forever? Would he ever come back to her- as a friend if nothing more or nothing less?

Hermione was soon about to get all the answers of her questions, in one moment.

The dandelion hedge tore apart to reveal a dark, furious and lanky figure plunging forwards towards Michael’s back. Hermione tried to protest between the kiss, to warn Michael of the impending danger that was approaching, but he only kissed her back more fiercely… not willing to let go.

“OI YOU BASTARD!! GEROFF HER!”

The knotted couple broke apart finally when a resounding blow was delivered behind Michael’s head, slamming his mouth and nose against the brass handle on Hermione’s door. Without any choice for cover, Hermione fell out of balance onto the door mat while Michael toppled over her and did a full somersault in the process.

“OH MY GOD!” she shrieked.

As she cleared her disheveled hair out of her eyes, her chin squashed against the dusty doorstep, she saw the fuming figure before her and recognized the unlaced hand-me-down shoes as-

Ron Weasley’s.

“YOU MISERABLE SNEAKING CENTIPEDE!” she bellowed as she untangled her body from Michael’s semi-conscious form above her.

The figure yelled back, its face and hair was ablaze and red, beginning to reflect in the dim light above the door “OH FORGIVE MY intrusion, MISS PRISSY! If it hadn’t been for me right now, you would have been…”

“SO YOU JUST STAND THERE PRETENDING TO BE ALL SIR GALAHAD RESCUING A DAMSEL FROM RAPE AND HARASSMENT I SUPPOSE!!” Hermione screamed and shook Ron by his collar very hard.

Ron spat at her face, “UNLESS OF COURSE YOU WANTED IT! YOU SICK LITTLE…”

Hermione drew back, went very rigid and cold. She was quite a frightening vision, no better than Mrs. Weasley in an uncontrollable fit of rage.

“Don’t. you. dare”

There was a moment’s interlude when Michael’s figure raised itself a little with a groan. As though he couldn’t believe it, his hands moved shuddering towards the threads of blood hanging down from his smashed jaw.

“Weedly? Wod are you doing here?” he spluttered, looking up and turning pasty white.

Hermione quickly bent down, and heaved him up to a sitting position. Then she softly tapped Michael’s bloody lip and swollen gums with the tip of her wand, murmuring a spell under her breath.

In a moment, the long skeins of scarlet down Michael’s chin; the splashes of wine red blood on his collar and the salty taste in his mouth vanished completely.

And then he ominously lifted his wand towards Ron, over Hermione’s shoulder and sent a curse towards him with an expert flick, while his target projectiled to a distance of a mile.

“CONFRINGO!”

Ron got up quickly after his head hit the muggle street lamp and stood panting bathed under the ghostly light, his wand held aloft.

“DENSAUGEO!” was yelled back at Michael with equal vehemence.

As before quite by accident, the spell instead of hitting right on spot, shot into Hermione’s face where she stood protectively before Michael. The scene went back to Snape’s dungeon where fourteen year old Hermione was whimpering and trying her best to shield her front teeth that began to grow at a surprising pace. For a moment, the whole party froze in action and watched Hermione scream in frustration as her wand clattered to the ground, in her attempt to cover her chin. Her front teeth had already gone ahead.

“Hermione, are you alright!?” Michael bent into her face, anxious at how she had been injured.

“MY TEEF! DO FUMFIN ABOU’ MY TEEF!”

“LEAVE IT ALONE CATRWRIGHT! YOU GET AWAY FROM HER!” Ron advanced quickly, raising his wand up to Michael’s chin level. He softly pushed Hermione’s hands away from her mouth and examined the three foot long incisors.

“It’ll be all right, Hermione. I’m sorry it hit you… I know the counter-spell…”

“GEF AWAY FROM ME! GIVE ME BACK MY WANF, YOU F-F-FREAK!” Hermione slapping away Ron, for lack of a better insult.

Terrified out of his wits at the deranged version of Hermione Granger sitting before him, he quickly retrieved the wand and put it in her palm. Michael watched anxiously as the teeth were gradually restored to their original length.

There was a flash of lightning in the air and a loud clap of thunder a moment later. Cavernous clouds flooded the sky and the moonlit night suddenly turned as dark as Hermione’s expression.

Hermione stood up before the two kneeling figures before her. Towering over them, she screamed pitifully, “I don’t care HOW… OR WHEN… you decide to settle this between yourselves, but I would request the both of you TO CLEAR OUT OF MY SIGHT RIGHT NOW!”

And then her front door slammed shut.

***

The night grew worse and louder than anybody could have imagined. Trees rustled and shivered with the combined ferocity of the wind and the cold raindrops. Streets lay empty, without even the homeless and lost cowering under tables or at jetties. Street lamps flickered and occasionally a drenched and solitary dog would trot along wagging his tail pointlessly. The entire evening’s humidity had accumulated and now thick heavy sheets of rain fell before the window pane. It was a complete contrast to the brightly crackling fire inside the room, illuminating three figures, two of identical height and the third a little shorter. They sat on comfortable sofas around an official looking table, on which was laid a large brown parcel.

“There’s no doubt about it, Harry. This is the best we could come up with”, Fred whispered excitedly.

Harry picked up the brown package and unwrapped the paper around it to find a rectangular box that was sealed with enchantments.

“Erm, let me help you with that” George said, grabbing the parcel with a mad glint in his eyes. He tapped the box with his wand twice with a moment’s interval. The lid raised itself and revealed the dark, folded contents within.

“Pure genius”, Fred whispered, looking immensely satisfied with himself.

“You have to promise me not to try and sell something similar for your profits”, Harry said quietly surveying what he held in his hands, “this is something just between us”

But the twins looked slightly uncomfortable at this proclamation. “But we thought at least the Order could use something like this. I mean, it’s the easiest way to get about and do some good quality spying and infiltration”, Fred explained.

“Absolutely not! Let me see… ah! As the Chosen One, I should be armed with some weapons that nobody else possesses, don’t you think?” Harry retorted.

But George was not convinced. “Listen mate, we’re pretty sure you’re not using these to hunt for the horcruxes. Then what exactly do you want with it?”

“Just a change of plans. I’m done busting my brains over the bloody horcruxes. This time, I need some direct access. I need some actual information, if you know what I mean. So I’m just tracing my steps back to where they started…”

And with that enigmatic declaration, Harry got up smiling at the twins’ baffled expressions, collected his parcel and walked out of the door of the Weasley Wizard Wheezes into the rainy, stormy, windy and merciless night with a new and strange feeling in his heart.

***

Hermione’s temper cooled down with the hot salty tears that flowed down her cheek, carving furrows in the slight and perfect make up she had applied for the night. There was turmoil of emotions raging inside her body and her brain was buzzing with fatigue. With her back still pressed to her front door, she sank to the floor and sobbed quite pitilessly.

“Well Ginny, I hope you’re happy now! The plan was a huge and tremendous success!” she hiccoughed vindictively at the room before her.

The room soon grew dark and veins of lightning flashed outside her window, causing her fancy china to vibrate with the resounding thunder. Automatically, she got up, floated to the windows and slammed them down, shut out the sound with a spell, and pointed her wand at the grate lighting up a merry fire. Then she returned to her position by the door and sank to the floor once more. Without any emotion, she gradually unclasped her earrings and brooch from her being. She loosened her tidy bun and let the usual bushy brown hair cascade to her shoulders. She felt all the heat trapped inside her hair escape, and a sudden coolness descended on her head. But the tears did not stop flowing.

How dare he? How could he be so presumptuous as to follow her all across town to see what she made of her date? He had no business to! Absolutely no business…

She hated him for being so wicked. She hated every fibre in his body for being so completely etched in hers. She couldn’t stand the thought of ever meeting him and talking to him straightforward. A part of her wanted to hit him across his face for being so clumsy. Her teeth had grown longer than the last time, and she was certain of how ridiculous she had looked… and that too in front of Michael. She knew he would never be able to look at her after that, she was so terribly embarrassed and shocked at the blow he had received from Ron.

Ron.

She could kill him if he came before her. She had had enough of him. He was an obnoxious, blundering idiot.

In fact, she was so absorbed in thoughts of him that she could have sworn that the unsteady breathing sounds she heard opposite the door she sat, were his.

She had heard the sound, pace and rhythm of his breath so many times that she could distinguish it even in complete pandemonium. It was heavier and slower than most other people. If one paid attention for too long, one would be lost in the calm humming sound of his breath and heart beat moving pace-to-pace. She had heard it so many times unconsciously when they had been studying in the Gryffindor common room, that was either empty during the vacations or suddenly hushed up before exams. Sitting on the same table in complete quiet, with her notes spread out, she would tune her mind’s rhythm to that of Ron’s breath and heartbeat adjacent to her seat. It had been so long ago…

Hermione suddenly sat upright. It was distinct now, heavy ragged breathing right outside her door. A little higher than where she sat, so she presumed that the human or creature was standing. She grew quite frightened despite herself, because she couldn’t imagine who or what would be outside her door on a viciously stormy night.

In case it was an assailant or a spy, she would surprise him. It was pointless to ask who it was, and put the person on guard.

Her hands pressed firmly on the door knob; her wand rose in attention and she quickly turned the door open.

SPLAT!

Lying before her, spread eagled was the tall, wet and muddy person of Ron Weasley. He looked positively aghast to be lying on his back like that on Hermione’s carpet, his red hair pasted onto his forehead from the rain, with her wand pointing right at his nose. He had been leaning against her door all this time.

“RONALD WEASLEY!?” Hermione yelled once more, not willing to believe that it really was him, “have you completely lost your mind? What on earth were you doing outside my door for three hours in this weather? You want to get KILLED?!”

Ron calmly and with great restrain pushed himself up into a sitting position, and then heaved his drowned self into a presentable figure, standing before her. He was whiter than a sheet, his eyes flashing a dull grayish blue in the firelight contrasted with the hair that dripped onto his nose and neck. He stood there speechless and quite expressionless before her, while she started at him, absolutely flabbergasted.

“It’s cold”, he said, finally in a small voice, to break the silence.

This was the last justification that Hermione had expected. Putting her hands on her hips, she stared at Ron’s sorry figure and took long deep breaths, before she said, with a great stress on each word-

“I-want-you-to-leave-my-house. NOW!”

“I-I’d like some of that coffee, you were about to make”, Ron whimpered, fumbling over his soaked shirt that pressed onto the goose-pimples on his arms and stomach. Hermione gaped at him for a longer period at this request, and then she just went over to her couch by the fire, and sat there without a word, looking away from the doorway, where he stood.

For a span of ten minutes, Ron stood exactly where he was in exactly the same state. Then boldly, he removed his shoes and wet socks, wrung the dripping water out of his shirt and pants, and walked barefoot across the carpet to her. He pushed the hair out of his face and shoved them behind his ears; he could see her better now. The fire had burned low and there just a slight orange glow in the room. But he could see the flames flashing still in Hermione’s eyes while she sat above him, her gaze averted.

“Uh… you’re teeth look better now”, Ron began a little sheepishly.

Hermione let out a loud breath but continued to look away and observe silence.

“I-I’m s-s-orry, I’m really sorry Herm. I won’t do it again. I’ll keep away from you forever if you w-want it that way”

With this solemn declaration, he softly lifted himself up to his knees and closed into her face to see if she had reacted. She looked very conscious of his presence even though her eyes were watching the fire. Her breath had quickened, and taking advantage of the signals, he softly placed his cold, damp hand onto her small warm open palm, lying carelessly on her skirt. Even at this slight touch, he could clearly feel the rapid and frenzied pulse in her soft pink palm. Very slowly she turned to face him.

“Is that a new tool for emotional blackmail, Ron Weasley?” she asked icily.

Ron looked genuinely confused, “As in…?”

“You’ve never called me that before- ‘Herm”, she explained quietly.

Ron looked positively relieved, because he knew what to say to that-

“Well, that’s the only option seeing how Grawp took “Hermy” away for himself” he said with a tentative grin.

This forced Hermione to break into the smallest smile she could manage, while still pretending to be mad at him.

“What happened to Michael?” she asked suddenly.

Ron looked highly disconcerted and stuttered, “Oh he-he-he just… left!”

“Left?”

“Yeah yeah, at first we gave each other some manly glares and then when it started to rain, he just… left” Ron continued trying to inject some confidence into his voice to make it sound believable. Hermione looked at him amusedly for a moment, and then fell back into her couch rubbing her eyes.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you killed him and dumped his body in a ditch”, she said sarcastically.

Ron pressed his hand more assuredly onto hers and said softly, his grin returning, “I wouldn’t be surprised either”

For a quarter of an hour they looked at each other in the silence with their eyes doing the talking. Most of the rain had dried off Ron’s body and now there was the dim smell of his moist, unwashed body that floated into Hermione’s knowledge. It reminded her of the smell she enjoyed most of the quenched earth after the first April showers when she was a child. It resembled the smell of freshly mowed lawns a little. While she sat contemplating the mystery of Ron’s scent, and how she never wanted it to go away, she had barely noticed that they were playing with each other’s fingers. This was the first time she had been completely alone with him for so long, unsupervised. She suddenly felt very grown-up.

“You’re still wearing the chain I gave you…” Ron whispered, observing the glint of the sapphire at her bosom.

“Oh yeah, I really really loved it” she whispered back, uncertainly. He lifted himself from his knees and crept closer to touch the necklace. Hermione didn’t have the strength or will to push him away. He rubbed the gem on the chain while his fingers occasionally caressed the exposed skin of her collar bone, visible through the V shaped blouse. A small shiver passed through her body unconsciously. She felt the same shiver run through Ron, starting from his fingertips. Suddenly coming to her sense, she slapped his hand away playfully. And then posed a more serious question-

“Ron, why can’t things be alright? Why can’t they… well… work out?”

Ron looked dreamily at her. The guilt had vanished completely from his face. He grabbed her fingers once more and pressed his lips to them.

“I really don’t know, Herm. Everything seems alright in my dreams. But when I wake up, I’m forced back to this place. To where we both are right now… whenever I wake up…”