Arithmancy for Muggles

From that moment of calm intimacy, it was Severus, not Hermione, who pulled away first. Nostrils flaring, Snape stood. “The risotto is about to burn,” he said over his shoul str striding into the kitchen.

Hermione felt cheated. Another moment, another heartbeat and she would have declared herself. She would have spoken, shattering the uncertainty between them. Another minute, maybe two, and she would have told him, as soon as she'd found the right words.

Vaguely aware she was being unfair, Hermione stomped into the kitchen, prepared to be grumpy at him.

Severus had rescued the risotto with a well-timed dose of stock and was now stirring the rice gently. Harry was still yelling at Ron in the front hall.

Before she could air her grievance, Severus spoke. “I supposu wiu wish me to, ah… deal with Mr. Weasley?”

“Nonsense. They're almost done fighting,” Hermione contradicted him.

His expression displayed clearly that he did not believe her.

“Ask Vector about my sixth year arithmancy project. I've had those two figured out for a long time.” As far as Hermione knew, Vector still had her report on file somewhere: “Group Dynamics of a Trio.”

“So why do you let them put you through this?” he asked.

Hermione shrugged. “I love them. This is who they are. Do you hate the cat for having claws?”

Snorting, Severus turned back to Harry's risotto and turned the heat off. “No, but that doesn't mean you have to play the mouse.”

“I'm no mouse,” Hermione insisted. “Mice don't…” She shook her head. “Never mind. I'll take care of Ron.”

“Are you sure you can?” Severus asked.

“Can you brew coffee?” Hermione asked rhetorically.

He snorted in reply.

***

“What do you want to stay here for?” Ron demanded angrily. His ears were bright red. “You don't belong here. You belong with your friends. Mum wants you home with us. We'll take care of you.”

“Hermione is my friend, too, Ron,” Harry pointed out.

Ron bobbed his head, warming up for his next volley. “Oh, I know how it is. You want to stay here with your special friend, Hermione. I saw how you watched her, back in school. Hermione would be all over me and you couldn't take your eyes off us.”

“Give it a rest.” Harry growled at Ron. “If you believe that, you probably believe that Snape is Hermione's special friend,” he jeered, putting emphasis on that last word.

“Ew!” Ron shuddered. “Don't joke like that, mate. It's a disgusting thought.”

Standing in the doorway, Hermione cleared her throat. Both men jumped. “Grow up, both of you.” Hermione snapped. “Ron, go wash your hands.”

“But Hermione…” Ron started.

Hermione was not standing for it. She pointed. “Ron. Wash. N

Grumbling, the redhead did as he was bid.

“Harry, Severus has saved your risotto from burning, but I have no idea what you wanted to do with the shrimp. Do you want to…?”

Harry was in the kitchen, elbowing Snape aside before Hermione could finish her sentence.

On the floor, the pieces of Harry's wand were smoking. Hermione watched, fascinated, as they began to crackle, flames spurting from the broken edges. Before Hermione could remember where she put the fire extinguisher, the wood disintegrated, a puff of smoke settled and a pile of ashes remained.

“Well, I suppose that settles that,” Hermione said, mostly to herself, trying to remember where she'd put the dustpan.

Before she could decide where to look fi the the pile of ashes began to settle, cinders crunching against each other gently. A sudden loud pop caused Hermione to jump. A new wand, whole, unbroken, just like Harry's old one, leapt into the air, turned end over end and landed on the floor, smelling only faintly of campfire.

“Phoenix feather. Of course.” Hermione bit her lower lip, contemplating the implications. Shd cad calculations to make.

***

Severus left the kitchen to Harry and took a cup of coffee to where Hermione's muggle friend was still sleeping. He had surreptitiously dosed the bitter brew with Sober Up potion, despite the laws against using such things on muggles. Gently, he shook the girl awake and offered her the cup.

“Mmm…” the young woman said, inhaling appreciatively. She sipped. “If Hermione ever gives you notice, I'm available, particularly if you wake me up with coffee like this.”

“I'll bear that in mind.” The thought amused him. “I thought you'd want a chance to wash up before dinner.”

“I appreciate it.” Margie rubbed her eyes. “I was a bloody fool tonight. I am sorry.” She finished the coffee quickly and handed the cup back to Severus. She winced at the inscrutable look on his face. “I know. It's Hermione I to to apologize to.”

“Why don't you wash up first? First door on the left,” Severus told her.

Severus returned to the kitchen with the used cup, avoiding Potter's elbows. He sat in the chair he was beginning to consider “his” and observed his former student's knife technique.

“If you'd chopped shrivelfigs half as quickly as you're deveining those shrimp, you would have scored much higher on your Potions NEWT.”

“Bugger off, Snape.”

Snape smiled. That seemed to bother Harry even more.

***

“Oh, bother. Sorry, I didn't mean…” Margie backed out of the small room.

Ron, blushing brightly, zipped up. “I guess I didn't think…”

“I try never to think if I can help it,” Margie confided with a smile. “Which is why I get into such awful messes.”

Laughing, Ron brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, Hermione always used to complain that if I thought a little more before acting I wouldn't get into so much trouble. But then, where's the fun in that?”

Margie's smile turned predatory. “Where indeed?” She sidled into the tiny space. “Shall I close the door?”

“Er, well, I was just…” Ron suddenly realized where this conversation was going. “Here, let me help you with that…”

***

Hermione heard the doorbell ring twice before she realized she needed to answer it herself. Wondering what was occupying Snape and the others, Hermione opened the door.

“I think I've got what you wanted,” Luna said, completely bypassing 'hello' and other traditional greetings.

“How was the press conference?” Hermione asked, accepting a small purple drawstring bag with something heavy in it.

Luna grinned. “Harry Potter wasn't at the press conference today. It was some sort of golem or simulacrum. Two orderlies dumped it down the laundry chute after the event. I saw it myself.”

Hermione frowned. “Did you get pictures?”

“No, we weren't allowed photography in the building,” Luna admitted. “But I saw it. It's true, and I can write about it.”

“Do you know where he is now?” Hermione inquired casually.

“No.” Luna frowned. “I've heard some rumors. My father heard Harry had been abducted. A colleague of mine said he'd heard Harry had been offered the DADA position at Hogwarts for next term. With the information blackout, who knows what to think?”

“Ah. Snape said Harry's been declared a ward of tinisinistry. Allegedly, he's no longer in charge of his own finances.” Hermione weighed the purple bag. “Whatn hen here, anyway?”

Luna shrugged. “I'm not sure what's in it, but that's a new sort of pensieve I got from Millie. It holds a single memory. It can be remembered once, then the sieve self-destructs. I swear, those two have gone muggle. They say the idea came from a television programme.”

“Thanks, Luna.” Hermione poked a finger into the top of the bag. “Whose memory is it?”

“It's Millie's actually. She says she remembers better than Ginny does.” Luna shrugged. “Okay. So, spill.” she commanded. “What is it you have for me that Ginny and Millie couldn't hear?”

“You can tell them anything you like, but I didn't want…” Hermione sighed, pocketing the pensieve. “I wanted a quiet evening of strategy, but we've had several unexpected visitors, so it's turned into… frankly, I'm not sure what's going on. Professor Snape is here and Ron showed up unexpectedly about a half an hour ago.”

Luna snorted. “Old “King” Weasley? What's he d her here?”

“He came looking for Harry, it seems.” Hermione smiled weakly. “In fact, why don't you come in to the kitchen? I think Harry's got dinner almost ready.”

Luna gaped.

“Do you understand why we want this off the record?” Hermione asked, prayine hae hadn't stretched Luna's loyalties too far.

Slowly, Luna nodded. “It's just… I didn't know Harruld uld cook.” She followed Hermione into the kitchen, somewhat dreamily.

Harry was sautéing a quantity of shrimp. The fragrance of garlic surrounded him. Severus Snape sat at the small table at the other end of the kitchen.

“Luna, why don't you sit here?” Hermione gestured to the unoccupied chair.

“Hello, Severus.” Luna spoke her former professor's name with great relish. “Fancy meeting you here. How's the bride hunt going?”

Snape smiled and asked, “Why? Are you still single?”

“Married to my job, Ifraifraid,” Luna demurred gracefully. “So, what's your involvement in this?”

“Involvement? Who says I'm involved?” he asked rhetorically. “I'm just here for the food.”

Luna let the subject drop. “So where's Ron?”

“He's washing up,” Hermione told her. “He should be back any minute now. Oh, and we have another guest. I should have told you before. She's a friend of mine from work, a muggle, so we'll have to be a little careful about whe sae say during dinner.”

Airily, Luna brushed Hermione's warning aside. “Hermione, it is a fact that muggles only hear what they want to hear. We could have a screaming match about the Chudley Cannons' chance at the cup this year and she wouldn't bat an eyelash. We're perfectly safe.”

“If you say so.” Hermione peered over Harry's shoulder at the sizzling shrimp. “Is it done yet?”

“Nearly.” His tone clearly said: bugger off.

“I have something for you,” Hermione said, teasingly. “I was going to wait until dessert but…”

Harry jerked his head to look at her. “What?”

Hermione pulled his resurrected wand from her sleeve. “I found this on the floor.”

“What?” He dropped his spatula on the counter top and snatched the wand from Hermione's fingers. “But how?”

“It was your phoenix feather core, as far as I can tell. I don't know if you can destroy your wand just by snapping it.” Hermione smirked, pleased.

Harry scrutinized the wand, peering at it from every angle. “But that means… what happened to Tom's wand?”

“Hmm. Good question,” Snape said, scowling.

Luna pursed her lips. “There were rumors. I think the ministry has it now. At least, that's what I'd guess.”

“It might be important.” Hermione looked around. “I really wish Ron and Margie hadn't shown up tonight. I don't want to talk about this in front of them, but I was rather hoping we could all put our heads together and figure out what we're going to do about this separatist policy the ministry has adopted. I guess that will have to wait until… where are they, by the way?”

“Perhaps Mr. Weasley couldn't figure out which way to turn the taps?” Snape suggested.

“Maybe we drove him away,” Harry suggested dourly, turning the heat off under the shrimp.

“Nonsense,” Hermione insisted. “Unless he took Margie with him.”

Snape smirked. “Well, I did surprise them on your front doorstep participating in mutual carnal embrace.”

Harry's surprised splutter turned into a cough. Hermione pounded him between the shoulder blades.

“I have a sudden urge to go wash my hands,” Luna observed, liberating her camera from her pocket and restoring it to a usable size with a flick of her wand. “Where's the loo?”

“First door on the left.”

The three in the kitchen listened avidly to the silence. The sound of a door creaking open softly caused Hermione to mutter, “I really should oil those hinges.” They faintly heard thstinstinctive whine-click of a camera in operation and then…

“What the…! Luna! How did you…?!? Aaaaah! Don't publish those! My father will kill me!” Several thuds, a thump or two and a bubbly female laugh later, “You don't understand! My father's going to kill me!”

Margie's voice then, “How old are you, twelve? Tell your father to…”

A door closed with a bang. her her discussion was muffled.

Luna returned, smirking, her camera swinging from one hand. y say said we should start dinner without them.”

Looking worried, Hermione cleared her throat. “Margie's had a rough day. Maybe I should…?”

Snape, still sitting, reached out to restrain Hermione. “Let them alone, Hermione.”

“Let go, Snape. Hermione can make her own decisions,” Harry warned, his wand pointing at Snape.

“Don't be so thick, Harry.” Hermione intervened. “Why don't you give Luna that interview, now?”

“What are you going to do?” Harry asked, darting suspicious glances at Snape.

“I think I'm going to remember something.” Hermione pulled a purple pouch from her pocket and glanced at Luna. “You say this self destructs? How dangerous is it?”

Luna shrugged.

“Severus, could you make sure I don't incinerate the kitchen?” Hermione sat down opposite him in the other chair. Severus nodded, pulling his wand out and looking suddenly serious. Hermione loosened the purple drawstring. “Here goes nothing,” she said with a brave smile, upending the bag. A small silvery lump, about the size of a glass paperweight, landed in the palm of her hand. Hermione's eyes glazed over and she slumped gently.

***

Dinner at the Burrow was always a chaotic affair. Though only the younger siblings were in residence, several guests made up the shortfall. Neville Longbottom sat between Ron and Ginny Weasley and Millicent Bulstrode sat between Ginny and Fred. Bowls heaped high with delicious home-cooked food floated from one end of the table to the other.

“So, Milicent,” Arthur Weasley called down the table. “George tells me you've really boosted their business.”

“I enjoy tinkering with artifacts, sir,” the broad shouldered girl replied, helping herself to the mushy peas.

Mollie smiled approvingly. “And how did you get your start in the field?”

Millicent swallowed quickly. “Well, I played Quiddich at Hogwarts, you see, but even top of the line brooms seem have trouble manouevering a witch of my mass.” She smiled self depreciatingly.

“Nonsense. I like to see a girl with a healthy appetite,” Molly beamed approvingly.

Millicent continued, “I could get the speed up, just fine, but had a lot of trouble on the turns. So I started tuning my broom, just simple charms at first, but was good enough that my teammates started bringing their brooms to me, instead of getting them tuned in Hogsmeade.”

“She's got a real way with stabilizing charms. We could never figure out how she managed some of those stunts,” Fred volunteered.

George continued, “When we found out she'd charmed half the contents of the school to work better, we had to get her on our team. The girl is a genius. She even fixed that prototype that caused us so much trouble last year.”

The conversation turned to other topics and Millicent turned to Ginny. “How are you doing?”

Ginny grinned. ”My fingers are cold.” Her hand disappeared under the table. “Warm them up for me, Millie.”

“Ginny, are you sure…?”

“Who is going to notice? Neville?”

“Your mum thinks he fancies you.” Millicent shifted in her chair, trying not to squirm.

“Naughty Millie,” Ginny crooned softly. “Never mind mum. Where are your knickers?”

“On your bedroom floor,” Millie smirked, “where they belong.”

Hermione squirmed, despite her incorporeality. She'd never liked Millicent Bulstrode, but with Ginny she seemed more human, less like the bullying cow she remembered from school. Thislie lie was someone Hermione could even grow to like, given time and an apology or two.

Molly Weasley walked around the table, collecting empty dishes. “Who wants pudding?”

Ginny and Millie shared a secret smile. The huge pudding floated down the table, followed by an enormous jug of custard. Neville accepted the first serving, but before he could pour the custard, Ginny gripped the edge of the table and stood.

“Ginny Weasley, sit down until we're all finished,” Mollie chastised.

Ginny's hair crackled with electricity, the ends sparking. When she spoke, her voice was deep and resonant.

“When the son of the defiant, born in the ordained month
fought, his soul passed through the veil.
Soul to soul, two rivals met and parted on good terms,
One to stay beyond, one brought home by a true friend's curse.”

Ron grew pale. But Ginny hadn't finished.

“Now two souls call to each other. A muggle's child
will with wizard's aid bring You-Know-Who back
to this world. The nameless will be named and
we shall, helpless, bow the knee to tyranny.”

Ginny's eyes rolled back into her head. Millicent was ready to catch her gently and lay her out on the floor.

“What was that?” Arthur demanded.

“Sounds like prophecy,” Charlie guessed.

Molly wrung her hands. “But Ginny always scored poorly in divination.”

“It's happened before,” George said.

“But usually only about inconsequential things,” Fred insisted. “Late shipments…”

“…contaminated supplies, good flying weather,” George continued. “It's never anything important…”

“…like Quiddich scores,” Fred concluded glumly.

Neville knelt to wave his wand over Ginny. “Could we get some chocolate? This took a lot out of her.”

“But what does it mean?” Molly asked plaintively.

Ron kept his mouth closed, his lips compressed in a thin line.

“At the last battle,” Neville volunteered, “Hermione brought Harry back to life. She won't tell us how she did it. You were there, Ron. What happened?”

“That's not a prophecy, that's history,” Ron insisted. “That second bit sure sounds like someone's working to bring the Dark Lord back to life.”

“One of the muggleborn though?” Neville frowned. “That doesn't make sense.”

“A new tyrrany,” Arthur spoke solemnly. “This prophecy will be recorded with the Ministry in the proper way, but otherwise it does not leave this room, understood?”

Nods and murmurs of agreements from the Weasley clan followed. Millicent, however, kept silent, stroking Ginny's hair as the youngest Weasley woke from her trance.

Ginny's eyes fluttered open. “Wha?” She had trouble enunciating. “Wha thi time?”

“Hush, Ginny. Big prophecy. Rest now.”

“What did I say?” Ginny asked, struggling to sit up. Millicent helped prop her upright, supporting her from behind.

Fred and George crouched by Ginny's feet. “Dark Lord is coming back. A wizard and a muggle are going to raise him from the dead or something,” George said.

Ginny laughed weakly. “Okay, who's been writing in my old diary?”

“Ginevra Weasley, don't even joke about that.” Mollie's voice was sharp.

“Besides, you said wizard and muggle working together,” Fred repeated his twin's statement.

“A muggle's child will with wizard's aid bring You-Know-Who back to this world,” Millicent corrected softly.

Ginny sighed and relaxed into Millie's embrace. “Well, that takes us off the suspicion lists. We're neither muggle children nor wizards.”

“What do you mean you're not wizards?” Ron asked defensively.

Smiling, Ginny pointed out, “We're witches, if you haven't noticed.”

“Ew! You don't notice those things about your sister!” Ron defended, blushing.

“I noticed,” Neville offered quietly.

“Sorry, Nev. You're not my type,” Ginny apologized.

Neville glanced at Millicent, then back at Ginny before nodding. “Oh. Congratulations.”

“What's this?” Molly Weasley asked suspiciously, glaring at her children. “Fred? George? What is Ginny hiding from me?” The twins grinned, but refused to answer.

“We were going to…” Millicent began.

“Hush, Millie,” Ginny ordered. “We might as well tell them now.”

“Tell who what?” Arthur asked.

“Mum, Dad, I've been meaning to tell you for a while. I'm gay. Millie and I are going to move in together as soon as this quarter's profit sharing is announced.” Ginny looked up at her beloved. “I'm in love.”

Molly Weasley's voice rose shrilly. “Not under my roof, you're not!”

As the pensieve memory faded to gray, Hermione could hear bits of Mrs. Weasley's diatribe. It almost sounded like her chief complain was that she would now never be called upon to plan her only daughter's wedding.

“But mum! Think how much money you'll save!” Ginny said, tinnily, as Hermione opened her eyes to see the lump of pensieve sending tendrils of smoke into the air. Before she could blink, the object had obliterated itself, but for a few flakes of soot that danced away as soon as she exhaled.

“Severus. Pen. Paper. Now.” Hermione held her hand out and was, miraculously obeyed. She wrote, while the memory was fresh in her mind:

“When the son of the defiant, born in the ordained month
fought, his soul passed through the veil.
Soul to soul, two rivals met and parted on good terms,
One to stay beyond, one brought home by ue fue friend's curse.
Now two souls call to each other. A muggle's child
will with wizard's aid bring You-Know-Who back
to this world. The nameless will be named and
we shall, helpless, bow the knee to tyranny.”

“I hate prophecies,” Hermione muttered as she set her pen on the table. “I really hate prophecies.”