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Hermione looked around in satisfaction at the herbs scattered on the bathroom floor. She’d gathered everything required for the spell and hadn’t even had to enlist the boys’ help to steal things from a professor. It was a lot easier stealing from Professor Sprout than Snape. She traced one finger down the page to make sure she’d followed each of the instructions, then pointed her wand at the little bundle of herbs and whispered, “Incendio.” 

The herbs sparked and then began smoking. Hermoine waited for the smoke to curl into the air. She’d started enough fires in the bathrooms to know that it wouldn’t set off any alarms, which seemed questionable. Surely, in a building of students just figuring out their own magic, they should have some kind of fire safety measures? Not that safety of the students seemed to be terribly important to the Hogwarts staff. She hadn’t forgiven any of them for keeping Harry in the Triwizard tournament when it was clearly a threat to his life. Yes, he’d managed to dodge the first deadly trap, but only after some serious cramming. They wouldn’t be able to pull another last-minute victory like that. 

Nevermind. If this spell worked, Hermione wouldn’t have to worry about Harry’s life being in danger. She wouldn’t have to worry about Ron being such a prat about Victor Krum. She wouldn’t even have to worry about Malfoy, probably. 

Hermione held the book close to her face and let out a shaky breath. Did she have her doubts about this spell? Yes. Had it come from the restricted section? Also yes. But did she owe it to Harry to find out if this could work? Absolutely. 

“Harken all ye elements, I summon thee now. Control the outside, control within. Land and sea, fire and wind. Out of my passions, a web be spun. From this eve forth, my will be done. So mote it be.”

She lowered the book and tried to assess if anything felt different. The herbs on the floor were starting to char and burn themselves out, but other than that, everything was just the same. She got shakily to her feet and faced herself in the mirror. If the spell had worked, anything she willed would become true just virtue of her speaking it aloud.  

“I will that my hair get less curly.”

Nothing. She pulled her fingers through it experimentally. Her hair had always defied her will. 

“I will that the bathroom door open.”

Once again, nothing. Her lips pressed together in irritation. 

“I will that the bathroom clean itself.”

The ashy pile of herbs rested undisturbed on the floor. Fine. If she couldn’t even use the spell to clean the bathroom, there was no way it would stop whoever put Harry’s name in the Goblet of Fire. It was time to get some sleep. 

Hermione ducked under Harry’s invisibility cloak (honestly, Harry didn’t know where his wand was half the time, he couldn’t be bothered to notice when she borrowed the cloak) and made her way back to Gryffindor tower. 

Hermione reluctantly took a muffin at breakfast the next morning. None of her work with S.P.E.W. had caused any changes in the House Elves’ working conditions yet, and she hadn’t dedicated nearly enough of her time and energy to it lately. She’d been too preoccupied with making sure that Harry survived and figuring out Rita Skeeter. The muffin tasted like guilt. 

“I’m just saying, it’s suspicious,” Ron repeated. “Krum trying to get so close to Hermione when we know his school’s the dark one. You agree with me, don’t you, mate?” 

Hermione set down her muffin, feeling the bite she’d taken turn to stone in her stomach. This again. Why was it so hard for Ron to imagine that anyone could want to take Hermione to a dance?

Harry was looking over Ron’s head at the Slytherin table. “Huh?” Hermione followed his gaze. He was staring at Malfoy, who was showing off some new feature of his Potter Stinks badge to the table. 

“I just said, it’s a little suspicious, Krum’s interest in Hermione. I’m not being paranoid, right?”

Don’t start another fight with him , Hermione told herself. Things had been tense enough after the Yule Ball. He was just worried about Harry. 

Harry shook himself and looked at Ron with an effort. “I dunno.”

“I do. I’m sure there’s something going on. He’s not normal, that one. Maybe he’s Imperiused.”

That was it. “Well, it’s a good thing Harry and I have a genius like you as our personal guard,” Hermione said. “Dark wizards just can’t slip past you.”

Harry finally snapped out of his daze. “Hermione, it’s possible. We have to consider--”

“Don’t let us interrupt the Malfoy show, Harry. In fact, you fancy him so much he should have been your date to the Yule Ball. Why don’t you ask him to be your boyfriend so you can stare at him from up close?”

Harry’s forehead wrinkled. “Hermione, I’m not trying to say Krum doesn’t fancy you. Ron’s not either. I’m just not sure who we can trust. Snuffles said--”

Hermione gritted her teeth. “Snuffles is going to get himself caught sooner than later. He should focus on himself. I’m going to potions.” 

Hermione expected Potions to be calm. At least as calm as Potions ever was, with Professor Snape and Harry always looking for excuses to glare daggers at each other. But everything about Potions was odd from the moment that she sat down. Ron sat down next to her, but Harry didn’t take the other seat at their bench, instead sliding casually in right next to Malfoy. 

“Harry?” Ron called. 

Without even turning around, Harry waved Ron off. Was he--leaning towards Malfoy? Hermione stared in sick confusion, barely registering Snape’s instructions for the antidote of the day. 

Apparently it didn’t matter if she’d heard the instructions, because the moment Snape instructed them to get started, Ron began chopping and adding ingredients with a confidence Hermione had never seen. 

“Ron, what are you doing?”

“Well, this is a pretty simple potion, isn’t it?” he asked, deftly stirring the bubotuber pus and lacewing flies in the bottom of the cauldron. “Dice that boomslang skin, would you?”

Now Hermione’s attention was split. She couldn’t decide which needed her attention more: Harry, who seemed to be making physical contact with Malfoy without the intent to injure him, or Ron, who was brewing the antidote without any of her help. 

But at the end of class, her mind was made up for her when Harry stopped Malfoy in the hallway. All of Malfoy’s nasty crew stood a few paces away, watching with as much confusion as Hermione felt. 

“Malfoy,” Harry started, seeming unphased by their audience. “We make a pretty decent team, don’t we?”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed and he glanced from side to side as if searching for the trap. “If you mean you can follow basic directions and that I’m excellent at potions--”

Harry interrupted him by laughing. “What I’m saying is, do you want to be my boyfriend?” 

Malfoy laughed weakly. “Very funny, Potter. Get out of my way.” 

“I’m not joking,” Harry plowed on. “When’s the next Hogsmeade weekend? We should go to that together. But that’s forever away. We should…” he trailed off, thinking hard. “We should meet up after classes. Walk around the lake.”

Hermione covered her mouth in horror. What was Harry doing? Had the fumes gotten to him? Had Malfoy somehow enchanted Harry in an attempt to humiliate him? 

But Malfoy looked just as confused. He turned around, glaring at his own crew. “Did you say something to him, Pansy?” he hissed. 

Pansy shook her head, looking far too pleased with the situation. “I haven’t said anything to anybody!” 

Malfoy turned around. There were red spots high on his cheekbones, and his eyes kept darting from Harry to where Ron and Hermione were standing behind him. 

“If this is some childish plan to get back at me about the buttons…” 

Harry grabbed his hand and stared, with his oh-so-earnest eyes, into Malfoy’s. Malfoy did not pull his hand away. “It’s not a joke, Malfoy. I think you and I would be better as a team than as enemies. What do you say?” 

Hermione held her breath, waiting for Malfoy to laugh in her friend’s face. She and Ron would be able to get him to Madame Pomfrey and figure out if someone had slipped him a love potion, or hexed him. Because this couldn’t be real, could it? They would have known if Harry was planning to do this.

“Alright,” Malfoy said, lifting his chin a little. “If you insist, Potter.” There was a smile curling Malfoy’s lips, and it was something different than his usual sneer. 

As soon as they took their places at the lunch table, Ron exploded. “What was that?”

Harry looked flustered, but he was grinning. “I can’t believe Malfoy agreed. I thought he was going to turn me down cold in front of everyone.”

“Yes,” Hermione said slowly. “That would have made a lot more sense than what actually happened.”

“I know,” Harry grinned. “I thought he hated me.”

“Right. And you hate him, so?” 

Harry’s face got very serious. “I understand if you guys are confused. It’s pretty sudden.” 

True. There was the whole fact that Harry had never dated anyone, and also the fact that Hermione had only really heard him talking about girls. Well, Cho. And he did talk a lot about Malfoy. But she hadn’t thought…

“It’s okay if it takes you some time to get used to him. But I hope you’ll give us a chance.” 

Hermione and Ron exchanged a look. They’d had a lot of experience dealing with Harry’s moods. Anything they said now he’d take as an attack. If they wanted to be close enough to keep an eye on Harry, they’d have to go along with it. 

“Okay mate,” Ron said. “We’ll uh--we’ll see how it goes.” 

Hermione took her seat in Defense and prepared to take notes. Even though no one else ever took notes in Defense, because it was so hands-on, she needed a record of the things they were learning. One never knew when Voldemort would be after Harry again, and there wouldn’t always be teachers around to help. 

Mad-Eye launched into a lesson about memory charms, pacing up and down the aisles as he punctuated his points by stomping his wooden leg against the classroom floor. He stopped abruptly, just in front of Ron. 

“Memory charms are difficult to detect--” he cut himself off abruptly. “Weasley. Are you doing some sort of spell at the moment?”

Ron looked up from--was Ron taking notes as well? Hermione gaped. Had it finally sunk in that he had to take exams seriously? “No, Professor. Just writing down a few spells I thought might pin down if someone’s had their memories tampered with. I’m sure not all of them would work, but--”

Mad-Eye frowned and tried to take another step toward Ron to see his list, but he had no more luck than Hermione would have walking through a solid wall. 

Mad-Eye grabbed his wand quickly and had it trained on Ron in a second. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, Weasley, but I’m the wrong wizard to try. What spell are you using to keep me away?”

Ron raised his open hands. His wand was in neither of them. “I’m not doing anything, Professor. Maybe someone else?”

The professor whirled on the spot, aiming his wand at one aghast student and then another. Neville looked like he might begin crying at any moment. Hermione cleared her throat. “Professor, I don’t think any of us are using magic at the minute. Do you think there’s some kind of hex on the room?”

Mad-Eye muttered to himself, still flicking the wand between one student and another. After a moment, he barked, “All of you out. I’ve got about a hundred diagnostic spells to cast on this room. And if I find out that any of you was trying this for a laugh--well, be advised. I’m not laughing.” 

The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs hurried out of the room and were silent nearly halfway down the corridor before everyone started making guesses at Ron and his friends were up to this time. Hermione sighed. The class had a point: a lot of the major disruptions to learning at Hogwarts, at least in their year, did seem to stem from one of her best friends. 

After dinner, Harry insisted that they go to the library to study because he planned to meet Malfoy there. Hermione didn’t see how Harry would get any more homework done that way, but maybe Ron and she would be able to figure out why Malfoy was suddenly a requisite part of their evening plans. Or what had actually caused Moody to cancel class.

Once they had settled in with a cozy stack of books and parchments in front of them, several of the Slytherins walked by flashing their “Potter Stinks” badges. Harry glared at Malfoy. “I do not appreciate that.”

Malfoy shrugged. “I can’t recall them. They’re way too popular. Besides, I do support Cedric Diggory.”

Harry continued to glare.

Malfoy fished one of the buttons out and turned it over and over again while Hermione tried to get everyone’s thoughts back to the problem at hand. 

“I’m saying, it’s very odd. Professor Moody would know if someone in the class was doing a spell on him.”

Ron flipped rapidly through the pages of his Charms book, nodding. “You’re right. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a spell that makes it seem as though they’re walking into invisible walls. Not in that way. Impedimenta could serve as a barrier, or Protego, but they’re not usually so static. There is a spell in French that allows people to form a bubble around them in crowded places, but I’ve never heard of it being used to place a bubble around someone else.”

Harry frowned. “It didn’t seem that strange to me. I mean, I didn’t notice him being that off.”

“Of course you didn’t, Potter,” Malfoy spoke up before Hermione could say anything. He was still staring at the button, poking it intently with his wand. “Noticing things is not one of your strong suits.”

Harry opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Malfoy shoved a button into his hand. “Here.”

Now the button flashed back and forth between the message “Support Cedric Diggory” and “Potter is hotter.” Harry snatched the button from Malfoy, spluttering. “That’s not--I don’t want--I mean, Cedric’s--”

“These are going to take off,” Malfoy grinned. “I should have been playing both sides from the beginning.” 

Ron’s eyes narrowed and he set his quill down to mark his place. “Interesting idea, Malfoy. Playing both sides. Lucky you thought of it now, isn’t it?”

The grin dropped from Malfoy’s face, and he stood up abruptly, shoving his parchments and books into his bag with abandon. “I should get back to the dungeons. I’ll see you later, Potter.”

He strode out of the room, and Harry scowled at Ron. “What’d you do that for?”

“What?” Ron said, feigning innocence. “I was only talking about the buttons.”

Harry groaned and hurried after Malfoy, leaving his stack of books and parchments on the table. 

Hermione folded away her own homework. “You think Malfoy’s playing both sides?”

Ron shrugged. “We haven’t figured out what caused Harry to go from complaining about Malfoy all the time to asking him out, but I think we’re the first people he’d tell if he had some ulterior motive. On the other hand, what’s Malfoy’s motive to say yes?”

“That he likes Harry?” Hermione ventured. She wasn’t used to Ron being one step ahead of her in theoretical conversations. She didn’t like it. 

“Or he could have seen it as an opportunity, like the little snake he is. Harry Potter’s boyfriend would certainly get protection from Lord Voldemort, right? If you’re important enough to Harry, you’re important to Dumbledore.”

“But it also makes you a target,” Hermione said impatiently. “For all sorts of things. Wouldn’t You-Know-Who be furious if he came back and found the Malfoys had thrown in their lot with Harry?”

Ron shrugged. “All I know is, Malfoy was awfully quick to say yes.”

Harry was serious about seeing Malfoy. Between classes the next day, Harry ran through the halls to catch a few minutes with Malfoy by the stairs. He slowed down just before they came into view so Malfoy wouldn’t know he’d been running, but Ron made a show of rolling his eyes. 

Malfoy stood on the stairs, clearly scanning the crowd for Harry, but his face was shuttered and emotionless. Maybe he’d gotten tired of toying with Harry. But his cool expression had no effect on Harry, who approached him with a grin and took Malfoy’s hand. Harry launched into a description of what had happened during Charms, completely oblivious to the whispers and stares of everyone else in the hallway. Before the two of them turned away, Hermione saw Malfoy’s expression soften and lift into a smile. 

After dinner, they met in the library for homework again. Malfoy got more homework done than Harry did, but they both got more flirting done than parchments filled. Hermione couldn’t help but try to diagnose Harry. It didn’t seem as if he was under the influence of a love potion. Love potions seemed to make people soppy and starry eyed, and Harry wasn’t blind to Malfoy’s mistakes. In fact, he reached over with his pen and struck out a line in Malfoy’s History of Magic essay. 

“You’re not going to write that the purebloods have been the victim of unfair ministry policies at the behest of muggle-born witches and wizards.” He frowned. “That’s rubbish and you know it.”

And Malfoy responded like himself, not some gooey love-potion rendered version of himself. “And what exactly do you call the Statute of Secrecy?” he argued. “Discrimination. I can’t use my natural abilities because people want to protect the muggles.” 

Hermione tried to tune them out and complete her arithmancy, but it wasn’t just Harry and Malfoy she had to ignore. Half the castle seemed to be coming through to gawk at the Slytherin and Gryffindor holding hands under the table. At one point, a group of Durmstrang students bumbled into the room and made for the tables behind the new couple. But when they tried to pass Hermione, they stopped in the exact way that Professor Moody had during class, as though they’d run into an invisible wall. 

All of them grumbled and pulled their wands, trying to figure out what the problem was, but Hermione had endured enough. “I’m going back to the common room,” she said. “As long as you two are here, anywhere else will be peaceful by comparison.” 

Ron stood up quickly. “I’ll come with you, Hermione. I’m almost finished with Potions, and then we could collaborate on the defense work.” 

But as Hermione and Ron stood to exit the library, something strange took hold of the Durmstrang students. As if they were repelled by the Gryffindors, they took a few steps backward, then turned and hurried out of the room and down the stairs.

“Odd lot, those Durmstrang students.” Ron observed. “But they’ve got decent taste, I suppose. I mean, at least Krum does.”

Hermione looked at Ron. She thought she’d gotten over being stunned by the strangeness of this week, but once again, she was speechless. 

Ron rubbed the back of his neck as they took the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower. “That is to say--I mean, obviously Krum was lucky to take you to the Yule Ball. And if he did that as some part of Karkaroff’s plot to get at Harry, he was lucky to get that job.”

His words lit up something in Hermione, but at the same time she was filled with despair. She couldn’t trust anything he was saying to her. They were living in a universe wherein Malfoy and Harry were dating. Ron didn’t know what he was saying, and she couldn’t let his words run away with her. 

“Fairy lights,” she told the Fat Lady, and stepped into the Common Room without looking back at Ron. 

At dinner on the third day, Malfoy spotted Ron and Hermione and made his way quickly through the hall toward them. 

“Harry’s not here,” Ron offered. “Moody wanted a word with him after class.”

Malfoy smirked. “Thank you for the attendance report, Weasley, but I can see for myself that Potter isn’t here.”

“Why do you still call him Potter?” Hermione groaned. “The two of you are snogging. Shouldn’t you be on first-name basis by now?”

Malfoy’s face turned a very satisfying shade of red. “Snog--we’re not--is that what he said? One kiss, and--”

Ron covered his hands with his ears. “I want to know way less about this topic than I do, and if you keep on about it, I’m going to hex you and tell Harry you were torturing us.”

Malfoy took a seat and a moment to regain his composure.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a look. Malfoy rarely approached their table in the Great Hall even when Harry was with them. Why was he trying to sit with them now? Had he been outcast by the Slytherins for dating Harry Potter?

“I assume you’re wondering why I’m deigning to sit with you when Potter isn’t even here?” He didn’t wait for a response, plowing on with the air of someone who’d thoroughly rehearsed what he was saying. “I came to apologize, and I wanted to do it when Potter wasn’t around, because I didn’t want it to seem like I was only doing it to impress him, or whatever you would think. So. I’m sorry.”

Hermione sat speechless. Ron helped himself to a serving of potatoes without looking at Malfoy. 

“I mean,” he continued, now somewhat shakier. “I’m sorry for calling Granger--the things I called her. And saying the rubbish I did about Ron’s mum.”

Silence fell again, as Ron shoveled potatoes into his mouth. 

“Do you want me to go on listing things?” Malfoy said sharply. “Sorry for hexing you, and saying rude things about Granger’s teeth, and always taking shots about Weasley being poor.”

“What about all the things you’ve done to Harry?” Hermione frowned. 

Malfoy looked irritated. “I’m sorry about those things. Most of those things. He just--gets to me. He always has. And I react. Alright?”

Ron reached over the table and snatched up a roll, then began to butter it with precise, cool movements. “What about saying that I’m the wrong sort?”

“What?” Malfoy frowned. 

“On the train. On our way here first year. You said that you could keep Potter from being friends with the wrong sort.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Obviously I’m sorry for that. That’s one of the things that made Harry hate me, and I’ve regretted it for years. There, are you happy?”

Ron looked over his roll. “It’ll have to do.”

Malfoy’s eyes turned to Hermione. “And you?”

Hermione had never thought Malfoy capable of apologizing for anything, much less all the vitriol he’d spouted at her and Ron over the years. He’d always been so proud of that. Their world was slipping farther and farther from the reality she knew. “For now,” she said. “But you’d better show you mean it.” 

Malfoy nodded stiffly and walked away. As soon as he was out of earshot, Ron crowed, “Can you believe it? I never thought I’d see the day. Hermione, we should have made him grovel more.”

There was a long line outside of the Defense classroom when Hermione and Ron arrived. Hermione craned her neck and saw that Professor Moody was scanning every student who walked into the room with his wand, then making them pass several dark detectors before they could take their seat. 

“Does he really think that one of the students is trying to harm him?” Hermione hummed. “He knows loads more than us.”

When Hermione and Ron got to the front of the line, Hermione passed the inspection easily, but Ron couldn’t seem to get past the professor. Every time he took a step into the classroom, Professor Moody took a step backwards. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Weasley, but I won’t have it in my classroom. Report to your Head of House immediately. Dark wizards are a real threat, and we won’t have you making a game of this.”

Hermione fretted about Ron throughout class and made sure that her notes were extra specific so he could revise them later. But she hadn’t anticipated Ron ambushing Harry and her as soon as they reached the Great Hall. 

“I’ve figured it out!” Ron said, snapping his fingers and looking to Hermione in delight. “What Moody said about dark wizards as he kicked me out made me think. Karkaroff can’t walk past me in the Great Hall. The Durmstrang students turned and walked the other way when we left the library. Some of the Slytherins have been repelled by me all week.”

Hermione took her usual seat at the long table. Malfoy was trailing after Harry today, and he was earning some strange looks from the other Gryffindors. Hermione felt a surprising urge to protect his right to sit with them. 

“Don’t you see, Hermione! There’s a pattern to who can’t get near me.”

 “What does that have to do with Professor Moody behaving so strangely?” 

“Do you remember what you said the other day at breakfast? You said that I was a genius, and something about being a bodyguard, and how dark wizards can’t get past me.”

Harry finally perked up with interest. “Moody’s not a dark wizard! He’s one of the better Defense teachers we’ve had! He’s been a huge help keeping me alive in the Triwizard Tournament.”

“Besides,” Malfoy pointed out, “I go past you all the time, Weasley. You’re not that repellant.”

“And you’re not that dark,” Ron returned. 

Malfoy looked affronted, but he pressed on. “And why are you a dark-wizard-begone charm on Hermione’s word? Even Hermione can’t get rid of people just by saying so.”

Hermione blinked, realization washing over her. “That morning, at breakfast. It was Monday, wasn’t it?”

Harry and Ron nodded, and Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth in dismay. 

“Oh no,” she whispered. “This is bad.” Could she even say that? Should she? Would she make things worse by saying that it was bad?

“What? What is it, Hermione?” Harry looked truly concerned now.

“I could get rid of dark wizards just by saying it,” Hermione whispered, “if I’d done a spell to make my will be done. I thought the spell didn’t do anything, but it just took a while to start working. Everything I said that day must have come true.”

“Is it still on?” Harry asked. 

“We have to tell Dumbledore,” Ron said at the same time. “If Mad Eye’s a traitor, Dumbledore needs to know right away.”

Hermione nodded, but her mind was occupied with trying to remember everything she’d said since Monday. Everything that she’d been cataloging as strange and mysterious happenings of Hogwarts, at least this week, had probably been caused by her. Dark wizards not being able to walk near them. Malfoy’s apology at lunch. Ron being so clever in classes. Harry asking Malfoy out. 

Oh, that was her fault, too. She’d gotten mad at Harry for staring at Malfoy during lunch and said something silly. And then she’d said...

Her stomach sank, and she looked up at Harry. He might hate her for making him date his enemy, but he was definitely going to hate her for this. 

“Harry,” she whispered. “Do you remember? I said Sirius is going to get caught sooner than later.” 

Harry’s eyes widened, hands forming into fists. Malfoy took one of his hands, prying it out of the fist and holding onto it. “We’ll fix it, Potter. He’ll be alright. Let’s go chat with your beloved Headmaster, shall we?”

Blessedly, Dumbledore was walking through the corridor just outside his office when the four of them ran up to the door. 

“Professor,” Harry said in a rush. “We’ve done something stupid, and it’s going to get Sirius caught. And Mad-Eye Moody is a traitor.”

Professor Dumbledore looked from Potter’s face to his death grip on Malfoy’s hand. “I suppose we should talk in my office, then.” He whirled around, barked, “Cockroach cluster,” at the gargoyle guarding his door, and led them all into the room. Hermione had never been in the Headmaster’s office and was overwhelmed by the portraits of all the past Headmasters and Headmistresses looking on. What an audience for her stupidity.  

“Please,” Dumbledore invited. “Take a seat.”

“Professor,” Hermione managed, snapping out of her daze, “we haven’t got any time to waste. Mad-Eye Moody--”

“Has been about his business all year. I’d like to hear the issue and make decisions before storming into his afternoon class with the second years.”

There was a long silence, and Hermione realized that everyone was looking to her to speak.

“Oh. Well. I tried a spell that I thought would help. I was trying to find a way to get Harry out of the Tri-Wizard tournament since I can’t seem to find a way to get him to actually work on the next task. And I did a spell to have my will be done. I thought it hadn’t worked--nothing happened that night, so I just forgot about it. But the next morning I said some things and…” she trailed off, unsure how to continue. 

“And how does this relate to your accusation of Alastor Moody?”

“One of the things I said was that dark wizards wouldn’t be able to slip past Ron, and since then there’s been several Durmstrang students and a few of the Slytherins that can’t walk past him. They look as if they’ve run into a wall, or they just turn around and go back the other way. And the same thing’s been happening to Professor Moody. He keeps trying to talk to Harry in class, but as long as Ron’s around, he can’t get anywhere near.”

Dumbledore frowned. “Moody has been an Auror for years. He has put more dark wizards into Azkaban than anyone I know of. I can’t believe he would have dark intentions toward any Hogwarts student, much less Harry.”

Malfoy mumbled, “He did turn me into a ferret and try to bounce me to death.”

Ron turned his laughter into a cough. “Professor Dumbledore, sir, I think it’s worth looking into. To see if he’s really who he says he is. What if he’s someone else Polyjuiced as Mad-Eye?”

Dumbledore looked at Ron curiously. “A very clever idea. I am astonished that I could have had so many conversations with him lately without noticing if he is not indeed, Alastor Moody. And yet I find that so often, we see in people that which we wish to see, and ignore that which is inconvenient to address. Now. To the matter of Sirius.”

Hermione could hardly summon up the courage to speak. “Professor, I was such an idiot. I didn’t know everything I said was coming true, but I said that Sirius would get himself caught sooner than later with the way he was acting.” Hermione studied the surface of Dumbledore’s desk, furious with herself. 

Dumbledore sighed. “As usual, you have an astute grasp of the situation, Miss Granger, but we mustn’t hurry bad fortune along. I believe that by reversing the spell, you will be able to undo the effects of everything you’ve declared into being.”

“Oh, but--” Ron protested, “does she have to undo everything?” 

Hermione looked at Ron guiltily. Of course she had to undo it. She’d put Sirius in danger, and she hadn’t even had the heart to admit to Harry and Malfoy yet what she’d done to them. It was hard to know which one of them would be more furious with her when they figured it out. 

“Time is of the essence, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said seriously. He quickly set pen to parchment and scrawled a note, passing it to Hermione as he stood. “This should allow you to access the restricted book and find the reversal spell. I’m going to speak to a few of the faculty and see about Professor Moody. I hope to see you all well and returned to yourselves tomorrow. And Mister Malfoy, Mister Potter?”

Both boys shifted slightly in place. Malfoy looked extremely uncomfortable. 

“It is a joy to see the two of you getting along so much better. It is a fine thing to cultivate love in the place of enmity.”

With that, Dumbledore was sweeping all of them out of the office, and Ron piped up. “Alright, Hermione! To the Library!”

It didn’t take long to locate the book, and Hermione turned through the pages with shaking fingers. What if it didn’t take? What if the reversal spell took too long to work, and Sirius was caught anyway? What would Harry and Malfoy do if it did work? 

“There it is,” Ron spotted, stopping Hermione’s hand. “Easy does it.”

Hermione took a deep breath and rushed through the text. “ Let the healing power begin. Let my will be safe again. As these words of peace are spoken, let this harmful spell be broken. ” 

The difference settled over the room like a fine mist. Ron, first, screwed up his face in confusion. Then Harry looked at the place where he and Malfoy were still linked by their hands and jerked his own away. “What the--” he muttered, staring at his hand as though it had betrayed him. 

Malfoy was last. He wiped his hand on his robes, chin tipped high and a look of revulsion on his face. 

Harry turned toward Hermione slowly, shocked. “You said something to make us fancy each other! Malfoy and me, that was your fault.”

Hermione winced. “I’m sorry,” she hurried. 

“Disgusting,” Malfoy spat. “As if I would ever--I can’t believe you lot have dragged me into such a--you all better stay away from me. Especially you, Potter.”

With that, he spun on his heel and swept from the library. 

“That went well,” Ron said cheerily. “Let’s get back to the common room and see if anyone’s heard about Mad-Eye yet.”

Hermione couldn’t understand how news traveled so fast in Hogwarts much of the time, especially since no one could apparate within the grounds. But by the time they made their way back to the Common Room, there was a commotion of Gryffindors shouting about Mad-Eye Moody. 

“That’s the fourth in four years!” Dean Thomas moaned. “You’d think we’re not meant to have a Defense class!”

“What happened?” Hermione asked in a rush. 

Seamus rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like the three of you weren’t tied up in this somehow. You probably know more than we do. Had some back alley meeting with Mad-Eye and found that being around him upset Harry’s stomach or something.”

Harry looked ready to shout, so Hermione interrupted. “No, we’d just noticed that he was acting strangely in class and told Dumbledore about it.”

“Acting strange is right!” Lee Jordan broke in. “Because he was never Mad-Eye. From the first day, we had a Death Eater teaching us. Barty Crouch, Jr.” 

Hermione glanced at Harry to see if this meant anything to him, but he shrugged. 

“You mean Mr. Crouch’s son?” Hermione asked. “The one who died in Azkaban?”

Lee nodded. “The very same. Turns out he didn’t die--they did a bit of a switcheroo, and then he played a bit of a switcheroo on Mad-Eye. Had him locked in his own trunk since September.” 

“Lucky thing you noticed he was acting strange,” George said near Hermione’s ear. She started and spun around. The twins were standing close behind her, their eyes narrowed. “Lucky thing so many of the strange things have been happening to the three of you this week.”

“Yes,” Hermione said weakly. She had no intention of explaining to the whole Gryffindor common room what a mess she’d made of things. “We got really lucky this time. Just think how long Mad-Eye could have been locked in his trunk if we hadn’t noticed. And think of what Barty Crouch could have gotten away with if we hadn’t figured out who he really was. Students could have died. Well, I’m off to Runes. See you later, Harry, Ron.” 

Maybe by the time she saw them at dinner, Harry would have forgotten that she accidentally made him date his worst enemy. 

Harry didn’t say anything about Malfoy at dinner that night, or all through the next day. He’d returned to watching Malfoy from across the room, and Hermione decided it was best not to comment on it. Unfortunately, the rest of the school hadn’t gotten that message.

“Oi, Harry, where’s Malfoy? I thought you two were going for the whole 'forbidden love' thing,” Fred grinned at breakfast. “Don’t tell me you remembered he’s an evil git already?”

Harry shrugged. 

George grinned widely. “It was all a laugh, wasn’t it, Harry? Wanted to see how people would react.”

A muscle twitched in Harry’s jaw. 

Neville looked up from buttering his toast. “He didn’t use a potion or anything on you, did he? He didn’t make you--”

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Harry said quickly. “We were both--” he pointedly avoided looking at Hermione, “confused.”

But after the rest of the table had cleared and Harry was still morosely poking at his oatmeal with his spoon, he did look at Hermione and Ron. “Do you remember exactly what you said, Hermione?”

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t think so. I suppose I could--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry rushed. “I just thought. Well, we ended all the effects of the spell. I just wondered if there was an explanation for why I kind of--miss him.”

Hermione spent her entire Herbology lesson searching her memory for exactly what she’d said to start that particular fiasco. Something about--and then--she hadn’t--

She dropped the pot she’d been filling, cracking the clay and spraying soil over both Ron and Harry. 

“Careful, Mione,” Ron frowned. 

Malfoy had been fleeing from all of them at every opportunity, but there was nowhere for him to go this time. Hermione blocked the doorway, and he stood their clutching the strap of his book bag. He’d held back as his friends left, no doubt hoping that Hermione would get tired of waiting and go off to lunch. But she wasn’t that easily swayed. 

“I figured it out,” she said. 

Malfoy lifted his eyes to meet hers and said in a cool voice, “Yes, Granger, you’re very bright, and I’m sure you’ve figured out something absolutely fascinating. Now, mind stepping out of my way and letting me go to lunch?”

“I figured out exactly what I said to make Potter date you, when I had the spell on.”

Malfoy’s jaws clenched and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I’d think, after what you put me through, that you wouldn’t want to bring that up again.”

“That’s just it, Malfoy.” There were spots of color rising on his cheekbones again, and she couldn’t bite back a smirk. “I didn’t put you through anything. What I said could only have affected Harry. All I did was make him like you and ask you out.”

His eyes closed. She waited for him to deny it, but he just stood, swaying slightly in the door of the Charms classroom.

“When Potter asked you, you could have said no. But you wanted to date him. Ron still thinks it’s because you wanted protection. But I don’t think it was about that at all.”

Malfoy opened his eyes and stared directly into Hermione’s. For all his shrinking and shifting, there was strength in his gaze. “And you still say you didn’t put me through anything? Step aside, Granger. I’d like to eat.”

If he had yelled at her, or called her names, or yanked out his wand and tried to hex her, it would have been different. She could have revelled in knowing what she did. Maybe she could have even used it to her advantage. But as she watched him walk away, shoulders pulled tightly towards his ears, she couldn’t. 

She thought of him grinning slyly at Potter, holding the badge that read “Potter is Hotter,” or schooling his face to be emotionless when he saw Harry in the halls, as if he was always waiting for Potter to change his mind. She thought of how he’d apologized to her and Ron. The spell hadn’t changed anything about Malfoy. He’d done that himself, because he’d had the chance. 

Hermione closed her eyes and blew a long sigh out. It was so much easier when Ron and Harry were the ones causing all the problems. 

Ron had been acting odd since they reversed the spell. He was never where Hermione expected him to be. And she needed to talk to him now, because she needed to know if she should try to do something about Harry and Malfoy or if she’d already done enough damage and leave well enough alone. Even though she rarely listened to Ron when he told her to stay out of things, he never had any problem telling her. 

Which was why she checked the Gryffindor Common Room, which had plenty of Weasleys, just not the one she particularly needed at the moment, and the Quidditch pitch, which was occupied by Slytherins and earned her a suspicious glare from Malfoy, and Hagrid’s hut, which--

“Ron? What are you doing down here?”

Ron looked up from his tea and untouched rock cakes in surprise. “Oh. Hermione. I didn’t think you’d come here.”

Hagrid looked from Ron to Hermione in a manner that made Hermione very sure they’d been discussing her. “I was looking for you,” she frowned. 

He snorted into his tea. “Why would you do that?” 

“Because. I need your help.”

“I’m pretty useless lately. Not a genius, and I can’t repel dark wizards any longer. Sorry to disappoint.”

Hermione frowned. “Oh, Ron. Don’t sulk about it. I never meant that you were supposed to be those things.”

“Well, maybe I liked being those things.” Hagrid shuffled back a few steps at the venom in Ron’s voice. “Maybe I liked actually being useful for once. Maybe I liked actually being a match for you.”

“A match for me?” Hermione echoed. 

Ron looked up, as if the words coming out of her mouth meant something different than he’d been trying for, but he didn’t say anything. 

“Ron, you and Harry are my best friends because of exactly who you are. I never wanted you to be something different--” she paused. “I mean, I usually don’t want you to be anyone different than exactly who you are. You make me laugh.”

“Dead useful, that is,” Ron growled. He wasn’t making anyone laugh at the moment. 

“And you are always looking out for us. Both of us. You’re not our bodyguard, but you’ve stood up for me so many times.”

Ron shrugged, but Hermione thought her words were finally starting to connect. 

“I wouldn’t spend nearly so much time with you if I didn’t like you as you are, and I certainly wouldn’t let you copy my notes as much. And anyway, I need your help now because I’m worried about Harry and Malfoy, and I need you to tell me to keep my nose out of it and that I’ve done enough meddling already.”

“‘arry and Malfoy?” Hagrid interrupted. “What’s the matter with them?”

“I accidentally made them start seeing each other,” she explained. “And when I undid the spell, they broke up, of course. But I think they both would be happier if they were back together, and I’ve got to do something to set it right.”

“Ye think ‘arry would be happier with that little git?” Hagrid frowned. “Are ye sure you’re well, ‘ermione?”

“Perfectly,” she replied. “Harry said he misses Malfoy.”

“And Malfoy told us all to stay away from him,” Ron added, taking a sip of tea. 

“Because he was afraid we’d figure out that he was seeing Potter voluntarily the whole time.”

Ron spit the tea out in a gratifying manner. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not. I confronted him about it after Potions. He’s furious at me, but not because I made him date Harry. He’s furious because it wasn’t real on Harry’s end.”

Ron set his tea down so hard that the saucer rattled against the table. “Are you sure, Mione?”

Hagrid looked just as shocked. “The Malfoy brat?”

“Is going to be livid that I told both of you. But that’s the thing--they were actually good together. Ron, you can’t argue with me, you know it’s true. And Harry misses him, but he thinks Malfoy hates him, and Malfoy thinks Harry’s disgusted with him, and I have to fix it. So you better tell me to leave them alone before I make everything worse.”

Ron shook his head. “I’m not going to tell you that! Harry’s our best mate, and he’s been sulking non-stop since we undid the spell. If there’s a way to fix it, we better do that.”

Hermione set her shoulders. “Alright. See you later, Hagrid. Ron, are you coming?”

She knew that Ron would come with her. He always came through in a pinch. 

They found Harry just inside the entrance hall, looking very pink and flustered. 

“Where have you been, mate?” Ron asked. 

“Talking with Dumbledore.”

Harry often came out of meetings with Dumbledore in an emotional state, but not quite like this. “What did Dumbledore want to see you about?”

“Erm, it seems he wanted to have a word with me about dating boys.” 

Hermione’s eyes widened. “He didn’t tell you not to, did he? I know he’s older, but--”

“No,” Harry said slowly. “Not exactly. Though he did tell me to be careful with Malfoy. He--well, you both know who Grindelwald is?” 

Ron and Hermione nodded, utterly lost by the change of topic. 

“It turns out that Dumbledore was seeing Grindelwald for a bit, when they were just out of school.” 

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up into her fringe. “Dumbledore dated Grindelwald? But he’s the one who defeated him!”

“Exactly,” Harry said. “Which is why he wanted me to be careful with Malfoy. I told him the whole thing was a mix up with the spell.” He looked at the ground rather than his friends. 

“Harry,” Ron said stoutly, “you know it’d be alright with us if it wasn’t just the spell?”

Harry scoffed. “You hate Malfoy. I hate Malfoy. It would never work.”

“You said you missed him,” Hemione pointed out. 

Harry started up the steps to the Gryffindor Tower. “I was confused for a while after the spell stopped working.”

Hermione hesitated. Harry was walking up the steps quickly now, and even Ron was having trouble keeping up with him. 

“I don’t want to talk about it, Hermione. You’ve done enough.”

Hermione winced. She’d done enough, and as usual, she was about to do more. “Harry. What if he missed you, as well? Would you feel any different--”

“Please leave it alone. I just don’t want to think about stupid Malfoy and his stupid face for a few minutes, alright?”

Ron vaulted himself up a few extra steps so he could block Harry’s path. “You’re not listening. Hermione’s trying to tell you that Malfoy’s fancied you this whole time, even before she did the spell.”

Hermione studied Harry’s reaction to this. His face had already been flushed, and this news only brought a new wave of heat. “That’s--I don’t know why Hermione would think that. He made it pretty clear how disgusted he was by the whole thing.” He brushed past Ron up the steps. 

“Only because he didn’t want you to know,” Hermione offered. “Once he found out you’d been affected by the spell, he couldn’t bear for you to know how he really felt.”

Harry hesitated, but only for a second. “If that’s what he told you, it’s some kind of plot to humiliate me because he’s still sore about the whole thing.”

“If he’s trying to get back at you, then how come the Slytherins haven’t been making fun of you for going out with Malfoy? Neither of you have talked to each other once.”

Harry ran a hand down his face. “You’re not going to leave this alone, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Ron said cheerily. 

“If I go and talk to Malfoy, and he says he never wants to talk to me again, will you let it be?”

Hermione hesitated. She didn’t want to agree to those terms. Malfoy was likely to be even more defensive than usual, and it wouldn’t be a stretch for him to say he never wanted to speak to Harry again. But it was worth a try. She nodded. 

“Alright then. Let’s go to the dungeons.” Harry spun around and stomped down the steps toward the dungeons, glaring. Hermione exchanged a look with Ron. She’d thought that Harry might send Malfoy a note, or meet him after class, not go storming into the Slytherin Common Room. 

“Harry, are you sure that--”

“If you want me to talk to Draco, we’re doing this now,” Harry snarled. Hermione closed her mouth and followed. She hadn’t missed that he called Draco by his first name. 

Ron and Hermione clutched their wands as Harry pronounced, “Pureblood,” and stepped right into the Slytherin Common Room. A few of the snakes looked up to see who had entered, and oppressive silence fell over the room, starting with the first years studying closest to the door. The silence and stares spread, and soon the only group still immersed in conversation were the fourth years on the opposite side of the room. 

“Honestly, you didn’t think I actually wanted to spend all my time with Saint Potter, did you?”

“Draco--” Pansy started, looking from the doorway to her friend, who was sprawled dramatically across an armchair. 

“My father told me that the Dark Lord would have use for someone who knew the Potter boy personally, and when the opportunity presented itself--”

“Draco.”

“I wasn’t in it for his good looks, or his charming jokes, or the way he made me feel like I was the only--”

“Draco!” Pansy commanded. “For your own sake, shut up. There’s someone here to see you, I think.”

Draco sat bolt upright and reached for his wand. In fact, in the whole room, Potter might be the only person who didn’t have his inside his robes, ready for any sudden movements.

“Is that enough for you, Hermione?” Harry growled. 

“What are you doing here?” Malfoy asked, his voice an octave higher than normal. 

“Hermione said--”

“And how did you get in here in the first place? This is the Slytherin Common Room, Potter. For the Snakes, not the goody two-shoes.” He sent Hermione a withering glare. 

Ron removed his hand from his robe and relaxed his stance. “Well, Malfoy, if you don't want Gryffindors traipsing through your Common Room, maybe someone should change the password to something it hasn’t been for two years. Or something a little less guessable than ‘Pureblood.’ I know Crabbe and Goyle have to be able to remember it, but you could get a bit more creative than that.”

Malfoy blinked at Ron, as if considering his point, before remembering exactly who was standing in his common room, shifting from foot to foot. 

“Fine. Our security leaves something to be desired. Did you come to spy, Potter? Didn’t get enough out of me with your last little plot?”

Blaise looked up from a game of chess near the window to the lake. “I thought that was your plot, Draco.”

Malfoy pressed his lips together. 

“I’ll leave,” Harry said. “But apparently Ron and Hermione fell in love with you last week, because I--I mentioned once that I kind of missed having you around, and they won’t leave me alone about it. All you have to do is say you never want to talk to me again, and they promised to stop going on.”

Malfoy cocked his head and clutched his wand tighter. “Is this some new game from Granger? Let’s see how long we can jerk Malfoy along?” He glanced at Hermione. “I can’t believe I thought any of you were decent.”

“It’s not a game,” Ron said. “Harry’s been moping around ever since the two of you parted ways in the library, and so have you.”

Malfoy’s chin jerked up. “I have not!” 

“Merlin, have you ever,” Pansy said, putting one hand over her eyes. “You have not shut up for the past hour and a half, and you always end up pouting over him. ‘I only dated him to get information for the Dark Lord’ ‘Oh, I was just seeing what all the fuss was about.’ ‘He wasn’t even that good of a kisser.’” 

Malfoy had maintained a fairly icy countenance until that moment, but at Pansy’s words, red circles appeared on his cheekbones.”Shut up, Pansy. You’re not helping anything.”

“I’m doing the same thing Granger is,” Pansy replied. “Helping all of us not spend the next three years watching you two pretend not to be interested in each other. See each other and break each other’s hearts properly or stop whinging all the time about Saint Potter with his scar and his Firebolt and his muscles--”

“Pansy!” If Malfoy’s voice had been high before, now it was in danger of breaking glass. 

Pansy smirked and leaned back into her chair. “I’m just saying.”

Draco whirled to face Harry, scrambling to undo the damage. “She took a funny potion today. I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

But some of the glare had softened from Harry’s face, and he looked less ready to fight. He took a few steps toward Malfoy, and his voice was soft when he spoke, as if it was just the two of them in the room and not an audience of a dozen assorted Slytherins.  “If you want me to leave, just say so. I don’t want to make you miserable. I’m not even down here because Hermione was pestering me.”

“Obviously,” Malfoy replied. “If Granger could pester you into doing things, you wouldn’t be perpetually completing your work at the last minute.”

“I missed you,” Harry continued. “Although why, I can’t recall at this exact moment.”

“You were so disgusted when we broke the spell,” Malfoy muttered. “You looked at me like a mistake.”

“And you told me to stay away.”

Draco folded his arms. “What else was I supposed to do?” 

Hermione felt more and more like she was intruding on something private. Malfoy had the same fragile air around him now that he’d had when she confronted him after class. She squeezed her eyes shut. Please don’t screw this up, Harry.

“There are quite a few things you could have done that would have worked,” Harry said. “Nearly anything but that.” 

Malfoy was silent. Hermione held her breath. 

Harry took a few more steps across the room, until he was close enough to reach out and touch Malfoy. He took a deep breath to steady himself and looked squarely at his rival. “Draco. Hermione did put some bizarre spell on me that made me ask you out, but the only reason she did that was because I was always staring at you during meals, talking about you in the middle of our conversations about other things, and thinking about you when she didn’t even know. What I’m trying to say is, will you be my boyfriend?”

Hermione doubted the Slytherins could see what this was costing Harry, but she knew if Malfoy sneered in Harry’s face now, Harry was going to be a mess. He’d never been good at telling people how he felt, especially if he fancied them. Why had she pressured him into this?

Malfoy tilted his head down, just a fraction of an inch. “I suppose it wasn’t all bad.”

That was all the encouragement Harry needed. He leaned toward Malfoy for a kiss and caught the other boy’s mouth. It was quick and awkward, and half of the Slytherins screamed when the boys made contact. 

“Thank Merlin,” Pansy groaned. “Now I won’t have to listen to him going on. Potter, you’re my hero.”

Malfoy shot an annoyed look over his shoulder. “I think we should continue this conversation with less of an audience.”

Hermione and Ron were alone at breakfast the next morning. Harry was eating with the Slytherins because, as he explained. “Draco’s already had a chance to get to know you two, but Pansy’s very irritated that he’s spending all his time with the Gryffindors.”

An owl dropped in front of Hermione, not with the Daily Prophet, but with an untidily addressed note. 

“It’s from Snuffles!” Hermione exclaimed, feeling relief wash over her. They hadn’t heard anything from Sirius since the spell. Even though he’d be in the news if they did manage to capture him, Hermione had still been terrified that she’d caused irreversible damage. She rushed through the note.

Hermione,

I plan to write Harry to explain all this to him, but for some reason, you came to mind last Monday, and I had the sudden conviction that I needed work my own mess out before I get too caught up in this new fight and people get really hurt. I’m going to be relocating for a while and seeing a mind healer. Getting to know Harry, seeing Remus again, and meeting the witches and wizards like you who are ready to stand by Harry’s side has done more for my health than words can say, but the work of Azkaban isn’t erased in a few moments, or even a few months. You, Ron, and Harry gave me a great gift by making sure I had a chance at life, and I don’t want to waste that. While I am away, Remus will be filling in for me watching out for Harry. I hope to return soon. 

Best, 

Snuffles

Hermione looked up at Ron, grinning. “Wow! Look at that! Things even worked out for Snuffles. I think this is going to be really good for him Ron, don’t you?”

Ron stared darkly at his eggs. “Yeah. Absolutely spectacular. Glad everything worked out so perfectly for everybody.”

“Ron?” Hermione’s eyebrows drew together. “I know you and Harry like seeing Snuffles, but don’t you think it’s for the best--”

“Of course it is, Hermione. Everything you do always works out so perfectly. Even when you’re casting dangerous and illegal spells that should have messed everything up, everyone turns out better for it because it’s you. Everyone except for me.”

“We already talked about this, Ron! Of course it was fun for you to be a genius dark wizard repellant for a bit, but that’s not you. We need you.”

He pasted on a sarcastic smile. “Yes, I’ve noticed. Everyone needs me so much.”

“I wish you’d stop deflecting with sarcasm and bitterness every time!” Hermione snapped. “What do you want to hear, Ron? If you want an answer, why not ask the question you actually mean?

“Fine!” Ron answered. His eyes still looked fierce, but less angry now. More desperate. “You want me to say what I really mean? When you made me smart, I thought that I could actually be good enough for you. I could compete with the international Quidditch stars and boy heroes that you spend all your time with. I thought I was good enough. And now I’m a joke, and I’m angry. Okay? That’s what I really mean.”

His voice was loud, and Hermione’s was just as loud when she answered. “The only thing that’s stopping you from being good enough is comparing yourself with anybody else. You want to be a match for me, then ask before someone else does!”

Ron goggled at her. 

“Now would be a good time,” she said. It felt like pressing her luck to push Ron this far, but if he didn’t say what he was really thinking now, she was going to lose her mind. The jealous angry act did not look good on him.

“Uh, Hermione. You’re the cleverest person I know, and you make things happen, and I--I really like being with you. And I think Harry’s going to be busy on the next Hogsmeade weekend. Do you think just the two of us should--”

“Yes.” Hermione answered before he could finish. “I think we should.” 

It was impossible to know what things she’d put into motion by having her will done. They could be dealing with the consequences long down the road. But in that moment, with Ron looking at her as if he couldn’t believe his luck, it all seemed worth it.