Ring Of Fire

When Hermione arrived at the Burrow it was already past midnight. As Hermione peered in the window she could see Mrs. Weasley staring fretfully at the enchanted grandfather’s clock against the wall, wringing her hands.

"She does that a lot lately," Tonks said quietly, pointing her wand at the window. Hermione shifted her feet and watched as a gigantic dog erupted from the end of Tonks’ wand, running through the window and making Mrs. Weasley jump.

"That’s rather rude, isn’t it?" Hermione whispered.

"Well I rather think so, but it was her idea. ‘Don’t want any mistakes’ she says," Tonks replied hoarsely, striding to the door.
"Come in, quickly, quickly," whispered Mrs. Weasley, her bloodshot, watery blue eyes darting frantically from trees to shadows, scanning the landscape for any disturbances.

Hermione followed Tonks in and glanced at the charmed knitting needles clicking away furiously in the corner.

"Now," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling a little too broadly, "Dinner. No, Tonks, I don’t want to hear it. You and Remus are spending so much time together you’re forgetting to eat. And Hermione, you’re looking no better," she said, clucking softly in mock disapproval like a flustered mother hen.

Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand and steaming plates of Shepard’s pie and milk appeared on the worn wooden table. Hermione’s stomach gave a loud rumble.

"Excellent," murmured Tonks as she slid onto the bench and scooped up a healthy bite of potatoes.

"D’jou hear abou’ ‘alfoy?" Tonks said, the steam from the hot potatoes floating out of her mouth.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. Worry was quickly spreading over her features.

Tonks held up a hand while she swallowed.

"No, no, it’s nothing like that. He got the kiss just a few hours ago—no magic left in him. Makes me wonder what Voldemort’s going to do to Draco now," she said.

Mrs. Weasley nodded shortly in agreement, her lips white and pursed into a thin line.

Hermione did her best to listen carefully as she ate but yesterday’s events coursed through her head, drowning everything else out.
Would Snape be all right? Was the Vow done? Did he no longer bear the responsibility of Draco’s well-being?

Irritated at herself for letting her mind wander she turned her attention back to the conversation between Mrs. Weasley and Tonks.

"—Minerva’s thinking about holding a ball of sorts this year. She says the Sorting Hat keeps hinting at improving inter-scholastic relations; anyway, that’s just what Dumbledore said—" Tonks was saying, but was interrupted by Hermione.

"Dumbledore’s alive?" Hermione asked flabbergasted, her heart rising with a hope that was quickly squashed by Tonks.

"In a way, Hermione. You know the portraits of the Headmasters? Dumbledore’s is the one closest to Minerva’s desk," Tonks sighed, pushing a carrot around her bowl.

Hermione opened her mouth in a silent "Oh". At once her mind began reeling again.

Couldn’t she talk to Dumbledore, then? About Snape? Maybe she would finally learn the truth—but wait, wouldn’t the portrait talk to Professor McGonagal?

Exasperated with her inability to focus Hermione bade Mrs. Weasley and Tonks a good night and tip-toed up to the room she shared with Ginny.

"Ginny wake up," Hermione whispered, pulling the quilt off.

Ginny groaned, turning away from Hermione.

"Ginny," Hermione repeated, shaking her gently.

"What?!" Ginny snapped before she realized it was Hermione.

"Oh. Hey," she said softly, wiping her eyes.

"Ginny sit up, I have to talk to you," Hermione said as she crawled up onto the bed, careful to avoid Ginny’s long limbs.
"What’s the matter?" Ginny croaked.

"Yesterday Snape came to my house," Hermione said to the dark shadow sitting on the bed across from her.
"Holy shit," Ginny replied quickly and was about to speak more had Hermione not clamped her hand over Ginny’s mouth.

"Just let me tell you what happened," Hermione said.

Ginny was silent after Hermione’s story.

"So he admitted to fancying you, which is weird and you think you might fancy him, which is weirder, but we don’t know whose side he’s on," Ginny said evenly.

"That’s about it," Hermione replied.

"Well, obviously you’ve got to wait it out. I think that’s the best option we’ve got. And it all comes down to trust, right? Bollocks, Hermione, this could be really dangerous. When did he say he’d visit you?" Ginny asked.

"Um, he didn’t, you know Snape. But he’s an Animagus…how can we trust what he’s saying? If he’s lying, then we, well, I, would be putting the whole school in danger. Again," Hermione said bitterly.

"What do you mean ‘again’?" Ginny barked loudly.

"Sh!" Hermione whispered, "If Luna and I hadn’t let—"

"Yeah, you’d both be dead," Ginny interrupted. "How many times do I have to tell you it wasn’t your fault!" hissed Ginny.
There was an uncomfortable silence.

"I know, but it doesn’t change the fact that I still feel like it was my fault," said Hermione quietly, picking at the hem of her sleeve in the dark.

"Out of curiosity, what form does he take?" Ginny asked.

"A bat," Hermione replied, biting back a laugh.

"Shut up," Ginny said, her voice breathless with the promise of ear splitting laughter.

"No, I saw it," Hermione admitted.

Once Ginny’s laughter had subsided she became serious.

"Well, Hermione, this is what we know: Harry would go mad if he knew that Snape fancied you and you fancied him, because then Harry couldn’t kill him. And Ron can’t know…well, because he’s Ron and he’s daft. So it’s probably best that this whole thing stays between us until we know more about it. I know you’re wary of Snape and you should be, but he was under Veritaserum and I don’t think even Snape could fake drinking the potion, or somehow counter the effects. I think you just need to trust him—I hate saying that, but you do," Ginny said, grasping Hermione’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"It’s just that, I have these feelings for him and I don’t know what they are—" Hermione began, but Ginny interrupted quickly.

"Like what?"

"When I look at him, like if there’s a picture in the Prophet, my stomach feels like it’s falling. Hearing his voice made me forget everything that was going on around me. I can’t stop thinking about him and it’s not like me! I feel…I feel…consumed by him and I know it’s wrong. Oh, Ginny, it’s so wrong. I’ve never felt this way and I don’t know what to do!" Hermione whispered ardently, her eyes welling up with angry tears.

"It’s not your fault, Hermione, so don’t feel bad about it. It’s not like anybody can decide who they fancy, especially when it’s the old, greasy, ugly fart of a man who likes to terrorize kids!" Ginny said earnestly.

"Sorry, that was a bit graphic," she admitted.

"I suppose so," Hermione said weakly, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, relief spreading through the pit of her stomach.

"Once we get up tomorrow, you’ll feel better. I promise. Mum’s making waffles for Bill’s birthday," Ginny said and then yawned and snuggled back under the covers. ?
* * *

Much to Hermione’s surprise she did feel better in the morning. Owls carrying her, Ginny, and Ron’s supply lists came as soon as breakfast was over. Hermione’s owl was carrying two letters. She hastily opened the first, more inconspicuous letter:


Dear Miss Granger,
Hogwarts is pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the Head Girl position. Duties of a Head Girl include regular hall patrols after ten o’clock, as well as regular weekly meetings with the Headmistress. Further duties are to be assigned at the discretion of the Headmistress. As the Head Girl, you are also assigned new living quarters that branch off from the girl’s dormitories. The password and exact location will be given to you upon your arrival at Hogwarts on September 1st.
Warm Regards,
Minerva M. McGonnagal

Hermione felt like she had been knocked in the chest. She was so excited; her stomach was jumping and twisting inside her.

"What’s this?" Ginny asked, peering over Hermione’s shoulder. "Oh, well, duh, Hermione—we all knew that was coming, didn’t we?"

"What?" asked Ron joining his sister over Hermione’s shoulder.

"Your own room?!" Ron exclaimed with relish. "Now I’ll have a place to stash my Fanged Frisbees and all of Fred and George’s stuff."

"Ronald Weasley. You will not use my room to hide banned items!" Hermione said incredulously.

He shrugged sheepishly at her. While Ron and Ginny argued about whether or not Ron should be able to hide things in Hermione’s room, Hermione opened her second letter, which contained her book and supply list.

"Blimey, Hermione, you’ve got loads more books and supplies…I’m not even sure where to get all of this stuff in Diagon Alley," Ron murmured, scanning Hermione’s list.

"What all are you taking this year?" Hermione asked, picking up Ron’s letter.

"Divination? You can’t be serious," she scoffed.

"You can’t pretend like it’s not useful. I mean, I know Trelawney’s a fraud, but with the prophecy and all, and Harry’s dreams, I just wanted to…you know, try to be useful," Ron mumbled at his shoes, his cheeks turning red.

Hermione gave him a withering, sympathizing look, before turning back to the list. Nothing stood out, other than the Divination.

She gave Ron an approving nod and rose as Mrs. Weasley came in, followed closely by a very haggard, tired Mr. Weasley.

"Oh, Hermione dear, we’ve just heard. Congratulations! Ron, Ginny, go get dressed, we’re going to Diagon Alley today," she said briskly, before adding, "Oh, and Harry will be meeting you at the train. Lupin just owled us."

* * *

As soon as Hermione, Ron and Ginny stepped through the wall into Diagon Alley the faces of Death Eaters snarled, sneered and smirked at them from every shop window.

The Ministry had placed posters all over, not sparing a single inch. Hermione’s stomach jumped as she saw a poster of Snape, who smirked lazily at her from behind a curtain of greasy black hair. Ginny eyed her suspiciously. ?
"You do have it bad," she muttered, kicking a rock with her shoe.

"Mum, can we meet you back here in an hour?" Ron asked hopefully, eyeing the broom shop.

"You most certainly may not, Ronald Weasley," Mrs. Weasley scolded. "You know perfectly well it’s much too dangerous."

"It’s not like You-Know-Who is just going to jump out from behind a set of dress robes," Ron mumbled into Hermione’s ear.

"Let’s see…Flourish and Blott’s is our first logical stop," Mr. Weasley said brightly, clapping Ron on the back, his bloodshot eyes watering a little. As they stepped through the door Hermione felt just a little more relaxed.

"Mrs. Weasley, I’m just going to nip to the back. I’ve got some odd books this year," Hermione said.

"All right dear but take Ginny with you," Mrs. Weasley said absentmindedly, staring at a poster of Gilderoy Lockharts’ new book, which Hermione and Ginny were talking about as they walked to the more secluded part of the store where books on more obscure subjects could be found.

"…He was totally off his nut when we saw him over Christmas," Ginny whispered, her forehead knotted with confusion. "How can he be sane enough to put his rubbish out?"

"Maybe he never really wrote them in the first place. It wouldn’t be a stretch," Hermione offered, scanning the shelves for Advanced Rune Reading.

"Maybe he’s under the Imperius!" Ginny said loudly causing several patrons to jump and scowl at her, but Ginny was oblivious, her eyes blazing with the excitement of someone lost in their own theory.

"Ginny, why on earth would anyone put Gilderoy Lockhart under the Imperius? It just doesn’t seem logical or worthwhile," Hermione said softly, cradling several books in the crook of her arm.

An hour later, when most everyone’s shopping had been done, Ginny was still arguing with a rather exasperated Hermione about Gilderoy Lockhart, when a Ministry official shoved a pamphlet into both of their hands.

"Have you seen this wizard, young misses? 5,000 Galleon reward for anyone who has any information leading to his capture," he said briskly, handing brochures to other Diagon Alley shoppers. Hastily, Hermione and Ginny shoved the pamphlets in their back pockets, eager to stay close to an impossibly fast Mrs. Weasley. ?
* * *


The Burrow was unusually demure for the night before everyone left for school. There were no Weasley Wizard Wheezes, no jokes of any kind.

Hermione began to pack after dinner, neatly folding her new robes and placing her books carefully in her trunk. Crookshanks was dutifully inspecting her purchases, sniffing every crevice with the utmost precision.

"Hey, the boys and I are going to toss the Quaffle around. Don’t suppose you want to join us?" Ginny asked, poking her head around the door.

"Tempting, but I’ll pass," Hermione said, grinning. As the shouts of Weasleys diminished into the distance outside Hermione pulled the brochure out of her back pocket.

Staring back at her was Snape, shifting every once in a while to lean on the other panel of the picture. Becoming flustered, she shoved the picture into the depths of her trunk.

"I can’t believe he’s a bat," she giggled, trying to shrug off the uneasiness that had descended.