Orientation
Ginny Weasley woke up early on her first day of class in her last year at Hogwarts. The furnishings and facilities of the new east wing were amazing and everyone in her house, and likely all the other houses, had stayed up late exploring. It did not have the feel of an old castle any longer, and gone was the musty smell and cold stone floors she was used to, but as Ginny went through her morning routine she did appreciate the hot shower water (that did not run out) and the extra privacy built into the dormitories. Unable to decide if it was a fair trade she stopped trying and relaxed in the common room with a cup of tea and her class schedule, which she had not checked the previous night. The first thing she had noticed last night was that the common rooms were larger. They still had the stone fireplaces that would warm the rooms on chilly days and the new furniture smelled like new furniture, and the end tables and desks were missing years of water and tea stains, but it was home for the next nine months.
Potions, first thing. As she sipped her sweet tea Ginny thought, At least it is not with Snape. Slughorn’s odd but not rude and vindictive; transfiguration, lunch, Care of Magical Creatures, and Charms. Not a bad start. The rest of the week was much the same, though Ginny was not pleased to see that it would be Thursday before she had Defense Against the Dark Arts and a chance to see Harry. Setting her tea and schedule onto the end table, she curled up in the soft chair and watched the fire blaze, thinking of her fiancé. The fire’s warm heat and soft light were enchanting and soon she was getting drowsy, but just as she was nodding off an annoyingly loud bell sounded, the wake-up bell, Snape had called it last night, and Ginny could soon hear movement and voices from the dorms. Stretching out in the chair and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Ginny was ready for the day.
In the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory, Rudy Keane woke with a start when the bell sounded. Not being a morning person he tried to go back to sleep until prefect Colin Creevy walked by his bed and pulled his covers off, and then shook him till he got up. Stumbling to the toilet amid other new students, and then off to his new morning schedule, Rudy tried to remember all the things he was told last night, but it had been too much information, too fast. At last dressed, Rudy made his way down to the common room, more by following the crowd than by his knowledge of where to go, and plopped down into one of the many overstuffed chairs. He recognized a few faces but could not remember names, except Colin’s and a few of the teachers. Looking at his class schedule, Rudy began to panic a little with the strange class names: Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, History of Magic? And that was just today! Sighing in frustration Rudy looked across the common room and saw the red-haired girl he had sat next to at dinner the night before. If I follow her I should be able to get to breakfast, at least. Rudy thought hopefully.
At seven forty-five another short bell rang and most of the students stood and headed down a hall where they jammed-up, waiting to exit through the single door. Rudy tried to maneuver his way to the red-haired girl but found he had to push through several knots of students who were talking and trading summer holiday stories. Almost there, Rudy managed to step on the foot of a hulking boy a head taller than he and with an unfriendly look on his face; this earned him a push into the back of Ginny Weasley.
“Hey watch it!” Ginny yelped. Turning around she saw the familiar face from dinner the night before. “In a hurry?”
“Yeah, sorry about that, I was trying to follow you to the dining room, I am lost in this place.”
Ginny smiled at him remembering Harry’s story about how he and Ron got so lost their first day at school they came into Transfiguration late. “Well, you could follow any of your housemates, but you will find everything soon enough. You’re Rudy, right?”
“Yeah, Rudy Keane.”
“Hi Rudy, I’m Ginny Weasley.” Ginny offered her hand. “Are you Irish?”
“Well, my da is, he’s from Dublin and my mum is English; we live in Bath. How did you remember my name? There must be hundreds of people here.”
“Well, I’ve been going to school with most of these guys for six years, so I only have to remember the new students.” Walking through the door, Ginny waited for Rudy to pop through with the flow of students, then she continued walking with him. “Rudy, do you have your schedule? Can I see it?”
“Uh, yeah, here it is. How will I find all these places? There must be a million rooms here.”
Laughing at Rudy’s comment, Ginny had thought exactly the same thing her first year. If she had not had her brother’s help... “Well, after breakfast you have to be in Charms, that’s just above my first class. Why don’t I leave you off on my way to Potions?”
“Thanks, Ginny!” Rudy felt a little silly for accepting the help from a girl, but was thankful nonetheless. As they walked into the Great Hall for breakfast Ginny told Rudy she would come over after breakfast, and went off to sit with some of her friends.
Rudy sat with a group of boys he knew were, like him, first year students. He noticed that some were very talkative while others were quiet. Maybe the ones talking had other wizards in their family. Then he noticed Colin Creevy coming up the row between the long house tables, stopping every so often and talking to the students. When he got near Rudy’s spot he leaned over, the piece of toast in his mouth dropping crumbs all around, and introduced himself again and had the students tell each other their names.
Rudy told everyone his name and where he was from. With the ice broken he felt better about jumping into the conversations. When breakfast was over some of Rudy’s house-mates found him and started dragging him to Charms, claiming they new where it was. As they were about to leave the hall Ginny walked up and asked, “Leaving without me, Rudy?”
“Oh, blimey, Ginny, I forgot, sorry. I was just going with the guys to class. Is that alright?”
Ginny looked at the group of three boys and two girls waiting for Rudy and noticed more than one of them looked astonished that an upper classman would be talking to him, let alone a female upper classmen, let alone a very pretty female upper classmen. Appreciating the importance of the friendships Rudy was making she told him to go ahead and just ask any time you’re lost.
Rudy ran back to his new friends, his status noticeably enhanced, and set off together for Charms. Ginny watched the group of kids walk away and laughed when she noticed that they were headed in the wrong direction.
“Hey Rudy, how do you know Ginny Weasley?” A classmate named Brian Whittle asked. “Do you know who she is?”
“I just know her from dinner last night and she helped me find the Hall. Why, who is she?”
Another boy, whose name Rudy could not recall, said, “She’s Ron Weasley’s sister, he was the Gryffindor Quidditch team keeper the past three years and plays for the Chudley Canons. He’s also Harry Potter’s best mate. They live together in Hogsmeade.”
Rudy just smiled, rather feebly, and mumbled, “Oh, yeah, right.” He had no idea who Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were, and he had never heard of Hogsmeade. He figured Quidditch must be like football if it needed a keeper. The seven first years walked on and by five minutes after nine they had found the Charms classroom.
Late in the day, after classes and dinner, Rudy came across Ginny reading in the Gryffindor common room. Going up to her he asked shyly, “How was your day, Ginny?”
“Oh, Hi Rudy. It went well, now that Professor Snape is not teaching Potions. How ‘bout you? Make it to all your classes on time?” Smiling, Ginny suspected that he had been late for at least one class.
“Oh, well, sort-of. I guess it takes wizards a while to catch on.”
“Witches, too, Rudy. If I didn’t have four brothers here my first year I may still be looking for the Transfiguration classroom; I was fifteen minutes late and Professor McGonagall had the whole class do extra homework. I wasn’t terribly popular to start with.” Rudy laughed with Ginny, feeling far less homesick than his first night.
“Hey Ginny, some of the guys asked me if I knew who you are. Are you famous?”
Not wanting to get into the events of her sixth year she just said, “Well, I’m certainly not famous, but my fiancé is pretty well known. He’s Harry Potter.” Off Rudy’s blank look Ginny asked him, “Do you know who Harry Potter is?”
Rudy was embarrassed, but said no.
“Rudy, are your parents Muggles?” Seeing his face, Ginny realized why Rudy did not know much about Hogwarts or its history. “Here you go, Rudy.” Ginny moved her books from the seat next to her and invited Rudy to sit down.
“When new students are Muggle born, you know, their parents aren’t wizards and witches, they have some catching up to do on the history of magic and Hogwarts. Let me tell you about Harry, my brother Ron, and Ron’s fiancé, Hermione Granger.”
At eleven o’clock Ginny was still telling stories to Rudy and at least two dozen other first years, and not a few second through sixth years also. Seeing that some of them were beginning to nod-off Ginny stopped and said, “Off to bed, the lot of you, I’ll tell you more another day.” Motioning for Rudy to wait, after all the others had left Ginny said, “Good night, Rudy. Feeling better?”
“Loads, Ginny, thanks. I can’t wait to meet your brother and Mr. Potter.”
“Just call him Harry.”
On Thursday September 3rd Hermione was released form St. Mungo’s and apparated back to Hogsmeade. She knew Ron was away at practice but he had left flowers and a note:
Dear Maya,
Sorry I could not be there for you today. Enjoy the flowers. See you Friday night.
All my love,
Ron
Looking around the empty house and remembering all that had happened in the past few days brought a pall of loneliness down on Hermione. She knew there were many jobs she had to attend to, not the least of which was contacting her boss about needing the rest of the week off. She had promised Ginny to help with the wedding invitation design; her room was a disaster, there was not much to eat in the house, and she was pretty much broke. Ron was at camp until Friday night and she did not know where Harry was.
It drove her mad that she had all these things to do but could not get up the desire or motivation to do any of them. She missed her mother but did not want to see her until she had lost the weight she had gained when pregnant. And above all else, she hated being deceitful with her parents. This one fault, above all the others, gnawed at her sense of self worth and drove her to despair. Finally, Hermione just sat on the couch and cried.
After a few minutes she got up and scribbled out a business-like apology to Keric Albemarle, thanking him for understanding her situation (which he really did not know) and asking for Friday off to finish her recovery. Sending the note off with Hedwig she then wrote a short one to Ron and Harry, went up to her room, packed a few things, and apparated to her parent’s house determined to find some consolation.
Since Harry’s talk with Snape earlier in the week, he found the prospect of teaching the DADA amusing. Wednesday he had met with Mad-Eye to talk about what he wanted done in class and was astonished to see that Moody had not started a single lesson plan or even a syllabus for the term. Moody kept taking sips from his flask and making faces like he was drinking vinegar or maybe petrol. The meeting started out to be more of a party for Moody who kept offering Harry a drink from his flask to the point where he felt he had to accept or be rude.
Whatever was in the flask was vile and Harry had to struggle to keep from being sick as he swallowed. Moody just laughed and said, “Potter, you will never find a better drink than distilled mandrake piss.” And with this revelation Harry jumped up ran to the window, just barely getting there in time.
Moody laughed harder, but then said in a clear, sober voice, “Harry, the mind is a mighty force to reckon with. You just puked out the finest brandy in England, all because of your preconceived ideas about what it was…and a few little suggestions from me.” Laughing again, he called Harry over and threw a spell that Harry had never heard before; Harry instantly felt fine and the foul taste in his mouth and throat was gone.
Setting his flask down and leaning towards Harry, Moody turned suddenly very serious. “Now listen to me, Harry. If we truly want to train these kids we have to convince them that the death of Voldemort and his followers is only the first step. Don’t let them become complacent, there’s still much wickedness in the world and these kids will have to face it with our training. What do you think?”
Harry though it was more than he had ever heard Moody say in one day, but that it was an important idea. Dumbledore fought two terrible wizards in his lifetime; the chances are very good that there will be at least one more In Harry’s. The curriculum for the 1998-1999 school year had reduced the Defense classes by thirty percent, so he and Moody would have to use their limited time wisely. Then, agreeing with Moody, Harry again asked what he was supposed to do in class.
Moody sat up with a serious look on his face and began ticking off items with astonishing clarity. “First, Harry, I want every upper classmen in this school to be able to produce a Patronus, there are still hundreds of Dementors around and they’ll have to be able to defend themselves, and whoever they’re with.”
“Second, make sure the young ones know the basic disarming spells and can do them quickly. I lost my leg because I was not quick enough to disarm a bad wizard.”
“Third, see if you can get some of those friends of yours in here to help out once in a while. These kids think of you as legends and we should use that to impress upon them how important this class is. Well, what do you think?”
Harry was astonished at the change in Moody and the way he made his point. Much more relaxed, Harry sat down and asked for another drink. This time it actually tasted good.
Thursday morning was Harry’s first class in his new job. Running from nine in the morning to ten-thirty, the class consisted of upperclassmen, six and seventh year students, and of course Ginny was there. Moody introduced himself and Harry, but did not mention their achievements over the past six months. Still, Harry had to smile at all the familiar faces, and at himself, in a position he never though about; Harry felt wonderful, at least until Snape entered the room.
Moody lectured about the dark arts for the first ten minutes telling the class that this period would be spent evaluating their skills and areas needing improvement. But before the evaluations started, and to Harry’s surprise, Mad-Eye asked Snape if he wanted to say a few words. Barely acknowledging Moody’s invitation, Snape came to the front of the class to speak.
“Mr. Moody and Mr. Potter are your instructors this year, and if they manage to break the jinx of this position they may be here next year, also.” Pausing, and with an inscrutable expression, Snape quickly turned up his sleeve and revealed the scar from his dark mark. A collective gasp from the students told Snape that they knew what the mark meant.
“I see you know what this is. Do not let the appearance of peace lull your feeble minds into thinking that the last of these marks stands before you.” And with a wave of his hand, Snape began to walk out saying, “Potter try to show them something useful before the term ends.” Then he exited the room.
After class Harry and Ginny talked for a moment, but she had to be in Potions shortly so she gave Harry a quick kiss and ran off to third period.
Harry was about to return home to something he was not expecting.
Home again
Hermione appeared in her old bedroom of her parent’s house, dreading the next few hours. Setting her bag on the bed she walked downstairs and called out to see if anyone was home; with luck it would only be her mother. “I am in the study, Maya.” Trying to steady her nerves and decide what she was going to say, Hermione walked into the study and greeted her mother who was doing some bookkeeping on a computer.
“Hi mom.” She knew it sounded flat, but it was all she could muster in the way of a greeting.
Continuing her work on the PC, Jeannie said, “Be with you in a moment, what brings you home?”
“I needed to talk.” Hermione started crying and sat in a chair, drawing her knees up and burying her face. Seeing that this was not going to be a simple, friendly day-trip home, Jeannie Granger stopped her work and swiveled the chair toward her daughter. Observing for a minute while she was crying, Jeannie asked if she and Ron were having difficulties.
Hermione shook her head no but could not speak.
“Maya, are you pregnant?” Jeannie thought this was the problem, though she was hoping otherwise. Her first question about Ron was just wishful thinking. But she had noticed her daughter’s weight gain and feared the worst. To her initial delight Hermione said “no.” But within Hermione’s mind a lifetime of success and discipline was crashing down and exposing a terrible character flaw. After a few seconds Hermione calmed herself and turned to her mother. “No, mom, I’m not pregnant,” then in barely a whisper, “not any more. I lost the baby…a miscarriage.”
Jeannie Granger froze. For her, this was the ultimate disgrace. Where had her child gone wrong? Certainly not with the firm and generous upbringing she and Tom had given freely. Raised, nurtured, fed, clothed, provided with the best of everything. The baby crawling on the floor, the toddler with Mickey Mouse ears, the first grade trouble-maker and tom-boy, a second grade stand out in all subjects, an inquisitive third grade princess, a fourth grade national scholar finalist, the flirting fifth grader with budding breasts becoming interested in boys; they shut that down fast! Then the owl bringing that remarkable letter; and Hermione’s seven-year education at an invisible school.
What would her father say? Jeannie was dreading giving him the news. His “Maya,” named Hermione after Tom’s mother but never used after the death of their first child from leukemia just a year after Hermione was born. May was gone and Hermione became Maya. Jeannie tried to tell herself that her daughter was being honest, she was showing courage, she was good by not having an abortion; she tried to give her credit for these qualities. But she could not do it. Part of her wanted to hold her daughter and comfort her and say everything was going to be fine, but a larger part hated her for what she did, for what she let Ron do to her, for the disgrace she had brought upon herself, and for her weakness; something she had not shown until now. And magic, what good was it if it could not prevent a pregnancy? So she sat there, still in the chair, a desk separating her from her only child.
And nowhere in these thoughts did the word “love” have a home.
Hermione looked up after a couple minutes and saw her mother watching her and for the first time in her life she truly understood how Harry felt much of HIS life: abandoned, neglected, and unloved. For whatever reason, good or bad, she knew what this meant. Her mother’s reaction did not surprise her, she was stern and religious and the real surprise was that she and her father had let her live with Ron. Accepting her mother’s behavior as punishment, Hermione stood up and walked to her room where she collected some personal items and apparated back to Hogsmeade hoping she would never return home.
“Hello! Hermione, you home?” Harry called as he entered the house. Walking into the kitchen he saw Ron’s flowers and the open note. Guessing that Hermione was upstairs resting Harry climbed the stairs quietly so as to not disturb her sleep. Her door was open and Harry saw a bag on the floor and what looked like a large stuffed animal. He could see Hermione’s feet first, and as he climbed the last few steps he saw her lying in bed, propped up by pillows, looking around the room. She was partly under the sheet, but Harry could tell that the sheet was just about the only thing she was wearing. But that did not disturb him as much as his nearly empty bottle of Fire Whiskey in her hand.
Not again.
“Hi Harry, wannadrink? Isssgood.” It looked like Hermione was trying to lift the bottle up to show Harry, but did not have the strength.
Harry walked over and took the bottle then sat down on the other bed. Looking at Hermione he thought, Well, I just might need a drink to get through this day. swallowing the last of the amber fluid. “Hermione, what happened?” After asking the question Harry realized that it was a waste of time, Hermione was at least as drunk as a few weeks ago, which means that she would just spend the night…oh no! And Harry ran to get a bucket.
“YoursweetHarry. NowIwontpukeonthefloor. Yeah Iamgonnapukeagain.” Turning toward Harry, and thankfully the bucket, Hermione emptied her stomach. Then she turned over and started talking as if nothing had happened. “Where’sRon? Washeattheparty?”
“No Maya, there was no party.” It was only two thirty and Ron was not going to be home until five...TOMORROW! Strike one, Hermione. Harry thought. “Don’t callmeMayaHarry. MymomcallsmeMaya andIHHHHATEher.”
Uh oh Harry was tempted to run back to Hogwarts and get Ginny to help him; Hermione’s sheets were hanging precariously to a couple strategic spots on her body. One way or another, he was going to have to rearrange the sheet and get her dressed, or at least in a nightshirt. Rummaging through Hermione’s dresser he finally found what could be a passable nightgown and went back to the bed.
“Harrywhere’sRonny? Ineedthebucketaga…”
Just made it. This is the LAST time, Hermione. “Hermione, I need to get you dressed. I, uh, will try to look the other way as much as I can. Ok?”
“SurewhateveryouwantRonny.”
Hermione passed out about half way through his attempt to get her dressed with his eyes closed. A few minutes later, when he thought he was done Harry ventured a quick glance and wished he had just pulled the sheet up. Hermione had one arm in one sleeve and her head and other arm in the hole for the neck, and she was not quite covered up enough. Giving up trying to dress Hermione blind again, Harry found he could get a shirt on her in ten seconds if he watched what he was doing. Then she got sick again down the front of herself.
Harry started over.
Two hours, five shirts - the last two being Ron’s - and two sheets later Harry finally realized that if he just sat in bed next to Hermione and held the bucket in front of her, life would be a lot simpler.
At a few minutes past five Harry heard Ron come home. He was not supposed to be home until tomorrow but Harry was not complaining. “Ron, get your bloody arse up to Hermione’s room!” Harry hollered, and then heard Ron drop a few heavy sounding items and run up the stairs.
The picture that greeted Ron was not pretty, and neither was the smell. A large pile of sheets, shirts, and towels were on the floor next to Hermione’s bed. They all looked to be damp with varying shades of green and yellow liquids. Harry was in Hermione’s bed, her head was being held up by Harry’s hand across the forehead; something that matched one of the colours on the linens was running down the corner of her mouth. ”Bloody hell, Harry, what happened?”
Harry got Ron over to the other side of Hermione, telling him how to hold her so she would not get sick all over everything. He explained the sheets, towels, and shirts “ pointing out the two that were his “ told him how he had found her, and said if he ever had to do this again he would call Rita Skeeter. Ron looked completely dumbfounded.
“Ron, I don’t know what happened today but you need to find out.” Harry was angry as heck with Hermione and he felt bad about taking it out on Ron, so he added, “And you owe me a new bottle of Fire Whiskey, Hermione drank the one Fred and George gave me. I am going to take a shower.”
“Thanks Harry.” Ron called out as his friend walked down the stairs.
“Yeahthanksssarry, arrggggg…” splat
The next morning Harry was trying to work the kinks out of his neck and shoulder he had earned from holding Hermione. Ron left a note that he had be back at five this evening. “Hermione finally stopped puking and went to sleep around two, but I have to be at camp by six. I will talk to you tonight.” Making tea and toast around eight, Harry heard Hermione walking down the stairs...well, not actually walking, it sounded like she was sitting and taking one step at a time. Taking out his wand, Harry cast the same spell Moody had used on him the other day, but he intentionally let her remain in her partially soiled clothes.
“Harry.” Hermione sounds terrible, good. “Harry, I’m sorry.” That was about all she could get out before stumbling to the couch and laying down.
“Hermione, what happened?” Harry had never been able to get her to tell him what was going on, though he knew it had something to do with her mother. Over the next hour Hermione told Harry what had transpired Thursday, and then she went back upstairs. Harry called out, “I have to teach today, Hermione, will you be all right?” but she just waved for Harry to go.
Harry’s second day in DADA was similar to the first, except these were first years. Moody talked for a few minutes, Snape appeared and made more rude remarks about Harry, then Harry started to teach the class wand holding and storing techniques. No spells were taught and after the previous night he was glad. When class was over, a red haired first year approached Harry and introduced himself as Rudy Keane. “I met your fiancé, Ginny, the other day and she told me some wicked stories about you and her brother. Are they true?”
Harry knew he would have to face this at some point, but he also did not want the younger students distracted so he played down what he had done. “Nah, it wasn’t all that much, and I had lots of help from my friends. You best be off to your next class now, Rudy, thanks for saying hello.”
Coming back into the house around three, Harry (again) called for Hermione, he (again) received no response, he (again) climbed the stairs, and (again) found Hermione laying in her bed drinking, though she did not appear as drunk as the night before and she was clothed. Oh, this is great, just effing brilliant. “Hermione, what the bloody hell is going on?”
“Piss-off, Potter, you’re a party-pooper.” Was Hermione’s frank reply.
Harry might have thought this was pretty funny, Hermione bitching at him because she was drunk, but he was quickly becoming concerned with her behavior. He saw the partially empty bottle of fire whiskey on her nightstand and walked over to get it, but when Hermione saw what he was doing she grabbed the bottle and refused to give it to him. “Come on, Hermione, this isn’t like you; let me have the bottle and we can talk.”
“You don’t want the bottle, Harry, do you?” Hermione was trying not to giggle.
Backing up to the door, Harry hoped his retreat would coax Hermione into placing the bottle back on the table. If she did that, Harry was sure he could get it with a simple “accio bottle.” The problem was that Hermione was not co-operating.
“Harry, come here.” She patted a spot on the bed next to her. Oh jeez, Hermione, what now? Harry approached Hermione and was happy to notice she had not been vomiting. Hopefully she learned at least that lesson last night? “Ok, Hermione.” Harry replied, sitting on the spare bed.
“Good boyyyarry. Now wait there, I have someping for you.” Hermione put the bottle down and walked into the loo.
Harry grabbed the bottle and stuffed it into his shirt solving one problem. After a minute he heard Hermione come back to the room and was nearly knocked out when Hermione jumped on his back and dragged him to the floor, all the while giggling like a loon. Harry’s glasses were knocked off and he knew he would have an egg-sized bump on his forehead in a little while. Thankfully the bottle in his shirt did not break. When Harry tried to get off his stomach, Hermione, still giggling, would make no effort to help him up. Woozy from the bump and the exceedingly strange behavior from his friend, Harry was about to find things becoming much stranger.
“Come on, Harry, let’s party!” More giggles from above as Harry felt around for his glasses. Just as he found them and tried to get a hold, Hermione rolled over and off his back knocking the glasses out of his reach again.
“HERMIONE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
“Here Harry, try this.” Wrenching Harry’s neck, Hermione turned his head toward her and gave him a big kiss on the lips. Though too surprised to move for a second, Harry had no intention of returning the kiss and brought his hands down from over his head and pushed Hermione away then scrambled up from between the beds, and jumped to the far side of one.
“HERMIONE, STOP! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?” Harry was almost in shock, but more offended and upset by what Hermione had just done than anything else. Looking under the bed again, Harry found his glasses and grabbed the bed cover. He put on his glasses and tried to pick up Hermione, who was still laughing on the floor. Then, none too gently, Harry pushed her into the loo, slamming the door shut and standing next to it so Hermione could not get out.
“Get yourself together, Hermione.” Harry yelled through the door, then he took out his wand and threw the same spell Moody had used on him hoping it would have some effect through the closed door. Finally, Harry walked to the stairs and sat on the top step, Hermione’s bedroom door closed, and waited for her to come out.
After a couple minutes Harry heard Hermione come out and get into bed. Now what to do? Knocking gently on the door, Harry would try again.
“Yes.”
“I’m coming back in.” Opening the door and peaking at Hermione’s bed, Harry was happy to see Hermione looking a little more sober.
“Come in Harry, I’ll be completely sober soon. Lucky me.”
So Harry tried again, sitting on the spare bed and watching Hermione. After a few minutes Harry saw tears running down Hermione’s cheek and he knew she had sobered up enough to realize what she had done, and what she had tried to do.
“Look, Hermione, this has to stop, I’m not kidding. If this happens again I’ll leave the house permanently; I can stay at Hogwarts now, I might be happier there anyway.”
“No Harry. Please don’t go.” Hermione’s voice was almost a whisper and she was very red in the face. Starting to cry again, Harry had a hard time understanding some of her words.
“Please, Harry, I am so lonely without Ron or Ginny around…I can’t stand this…I lost the baby…I lost my parents…I’m driving you away…I can’t believe what I did.” Harry got up and sat next to Hermione, he put his arm around her and waited for Ron to get back.
Later that afternoon Hermione could hear Harry downstairs. “Ron,