This Subdued Fire

Some OotP spoilers. Blah blah. There\'s oocness afoot, but it\'s good oocness. Yes...
Anti-Litigation Charm: Not mine, I make no money off of these, I get nothing but the simple pleasure of bending them to my will. They all belong to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, Warner Bros. and whoever else.
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Hermione awoke the first day of her seventh year in unfamiliar surroundings. Blinking away the last of vestiges of sleep, she looked around. It all came back to her. She was Head Girl of Hogwarts. Hermione took in the spacious quarters she was assigned to. She hadn\'t had the inclination to look around last night. The greeting feast had left it rather late and then there were the excited first-years to attend to. The prime perk of being Head Girl was that she was not required to share a bedroom with the other seventh-years.

One of the first things she noticed was the bed. It was somewhat familiar, being of the regulation four poster Gryffindor variety. However, the resemblance ended there. As large as the normal dormitory beds were, this bed was about half again as large. Instead of being hung with blood red velvet draperies, this velvet was shimmering gold. Upon closer examination, Hermione discovered that the curtains were piped with a vermilion satin. The same satin was echoed in the sheets with which the bed was made. The edges had gold piping, converse to the bed hangings.

She slipped from the massive piece of furniture, stealing a look at the clock, which still read \"too early to be up, miss.\" A glance out of the windows confirmed this; the pink of dawn just beginning to peek over the horizon. Instead of her feet touching slightly cold gray stone, the toes sunk into a red and gold patterned carpet. Into the center of the carpet, there was a great golden lion rampant, the symbol of her House.

Padding into the bathroom, the torches automatically lit themselves and the mirror offered up a pithy comment about her appearance. Hermione made a face at the mirror, to which it replied \"ugh.\"

\"Same to you, ducks.\" Hermione put the stopper into the tub and selected a tap of bubbles to fill it with.

The prefects\' bathroom was positively opulent when compared with the normal bathroom the girls shared. When compared to *this* room, the prefects\' bathroom seemed very paltry indeed. Done up in white and gold with touches of red, it shone brightly even in the dim light of the torches. The tub was about half the size of the one in the prefects\' bathroom, still enough room to swim about in.

Hermione performed her daily toilette at the sink which rested below the mirror. With an appraising glance at her face, she took off her nightgown and slipped into the rose scented pink bubbles. Luxuriating in the hot water, she reminisced about her six years at Hogwarts.

Hermione quickly became a bit nostalgic. She thought about Ron, with whom she was not on good terms since their breakup right before the end of last term. It pained her to think of the friendship being broken because of an ill-timed romance. Still, she knew she could never really think of Ron as more than a brother.

Harry, on the other hand, was still a very good friend to her these days. They\'d managed to patch up their friendship after she\'d broken it off with him in fifth year. Hermione strongly suspected that the mending of those fences was due in large part to Harry\'s relationship with Ginny Weasley. It seemed that The Boy Who Lived had found A Girl Who Lived. Hermione knew that Ginny\'s brush with Voldemort\'s shade left its mark on the youngest Weasley. Merlin knew they\'d all had their adventures with the Dark Lord.

Hermione mused on Ginny\'s previous relationship with Draco Malfoy, the son of the sworn enemies of the Weasley clan. The feud never really amounted to more than insults traded back and forth until Lucius Malfoy slipped Tom Riddle\'s diary into Ginny\'s books. Hermione understood Ginny\'s compulsion to write to Tom. Gin felt left out from the tight knit circle of Harry, Hermione and Ron. The situation was akin to how she felt now - excluded from the circle of Harry, Ginny and Ron.

Still, she thought, it was funny that of all the boys in school, Ginny took up with Draco Malfoy. It was a blessing that they\'d escaped the disastrous pairing with their skins. When the elder Malfoys and Weasleys discovered it, Ginny and Draco both were in danger of being sent to St. Mungo\'s psychiatric ward. It took the ending of the relationship to bring Ginny back around to her original crush on Harry, only to discover he felt the same way.

With Harry and Ginny paired off, it only seemed natural that Hermione and Ron would go skipping merrily into the sunset. Alas, \'twas not to be. The two were as antagonistic as ever. In between snog sessions in the Astronomy Tower, Ron and Hermione were forever bickering. They were too much alike, Ron and Hermione. She saw that long before Ron did and broke it off with him. Ron was still sore about it. As a result, Hermione did not get her usual summer invitation to the Burrow. And because of the timing of the thing, it gave the Slytherins, especially Draco Malfoy, a great deal of amusement at poor Ron\'s expense.

Malfoy. The name sent a disgusted sneer across Hermione\'s lips.She absolutely loathed him. He was lower than the dirt under her fingernails. Speaking of which, Hermione grabbed up a loofah and began scrubbing away at her skin. The absolute worst part of this year was that Malfoy had been named Head Boy. That honor was no doubt due to the fact that Malfoy\'s Head of House, Severus Snape, doted on the fair haired boy. Hermione smirked, thinking about Snape. She wondered if Snape had a thing for Malfoy. She wouldn\'t be surprised if he did. Most of the school had had a thing for Malfoy at one time or another. Even her own beloved Professor McGonagall, who really had a disliking for Malfoy, was caught looking at the Slytherin with a soft glance every so often.

Lavender and Parvati were always swooning over Draco\'s good looks. Pansy Parkinson never missed an opportunity to gush over her \"Drakie-pooh.\" Hermione gave a disgusted shudder thinking of that. She pushed aside thoughts of Malfoy to other, more pressing business. N.E.W.T.\'s were just around the corner. She\'d picked Potions, much to everyone\'s surprise. As much as she loved Arithmancy and Transfiguration, the pure logic of Potions appealed to her the best. There was very little magic involved. Hermione still wasn\'t quite used to her magical powers. And of late she\'d noticed changes going on in her abilities.

Spells and charms that she\'d previously needed a wand for, she suddenly didn\'t. She tried out simple things like the Unlocking Charm or the Levitation Charm. No wand needed. All that was required was for her to say the words out loud. She\'d done research on it and discovered what had happened. Somewhat dismayed at her discovery, she\'d decided to make the best of it.

To that end, Hermione experimented to see what else she could do. As it happened, aside from being able to cast wandless charms, she had been endowed with the powers of a Metamorphagi. She experimented on the texture and length of her hair, her eye color, nails. Silly, vain things like that. Hermione often thought that it was a shame that she hadn\'t come into her own until after the tooth debacle of fourth year. The small Glamours she cast were quite a shock. Especially to her parents. They were used to their brown haired, brown eyed child. The day she came downstairs with flaming red gold hair and bright green eyes nearly made the elder Grangers apoplectic.

Still, the subtle changes she\'d made to her appearance seemed to be enough. Hermione trained her hair to grow curly, and not something resembling a hedgerow. The deep brown eyes now held a hint of golden fire. Although whether that was natural or magical, Hermione could not have said. Other than that, there was nothing magically changed about herself. The males occupying Gryffindor Tower seemed to have taken notice.

In addition to Harry and Ron, Neville had grown past his shyness and sometimes asked to study with her. Dean and Seamus, who shared everything, often walked her to and from classes. Even dull witted Crabbe and Goyle could be seen shooting looks at her exposed knees between the hem of her skirt and the top of her socks.

Her musings having made the water grow cold and the bubbles melt, Hermione got out of the bath and set about getting ready for the day. As soon as she stepped from the tub, the water automatically swirled down the drain.

\"Huh. A wonder of modern Wizardry.\" She observed the self cleaning tub erase all traces of soap and such from the porcelain. It was left gleaming white.

Hermione shrugged on a robe and went into the bedroom. Her clothes had been laid out for her on the freshly made bed. There was a bouquet of pink and purple roses on the nightstand and the windows had been opened, letting in the late summer sun. All in all, a very pleasant start to the morning.
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Draco rinsed off in the shower, enjoying the solitude of his private quarters. This was one thing all of his father\'s money couldn\'t buy him - his own chamber at Hogwarts. He\'d had to earn it. Draco had been eyeing the top spot at school. Unfortunately, it had been stolen by that bushy haired little mudblooded bitch.

Granger. Her very name sent a disgusted shudder through him. He thoroughly hated everything about her. She was lower than the dirt under his nails. Speaking of which, examining his hands, it was time for a buff and polish. She\'d captured the prize that Draco thought he deserved. Malfoy was unused to being relegated to number two. It rankled him that his grades were not as good as hers. Malfoy was sure this was due in part to the fact that McGonagall positively doted on the silly bint. He sneered as he stepped out of the cubicle and briskly began to towel himself off.

.oO(The old bat must have a taste for mudblooded wenches,) he thought nastily. He could just see McGonagall salivating over Granger\'s little schoolgirl outfits.

Then again, just about everyone had had a small thing for Granger - especially after the Yule Ball of fourth year. Malfoy noticed that she\'d gone through Viktor Krum, Potter and Weasley in very short order. That silly little Hufflepuff, Finch-Fletchley (whom Draco had always suspected was a switch hitter) was always staring at Granger like she was an oasis in a desert. Even Crabbe and Goyle ogled her when they thought she wasn\'t looking. Disgusting.

Stepping back into the main chamber, Draco found that his window had been opened and his uniform laid out. Humming softly with appreciation for well-trained House Elves (good help is so hard to find), he dressed and went about his duties.
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Ron awoke before everyone else. As he lay in the velvet shrouded bed, he could hear Dean\'s bass snores harmonising with Seamus\' higher pitched ones. Neville wheezed a bit in his sleep, which added a soprano element to the nocturnal chorus. Harry never snored - he was always silent as the grave. Ron often wondered about this. Harry never even tossed about, except for when he was in the throes of a nightmare. And Hermione...well, he\'d never had the chance to observe Hermione in sleep.

This fact bothered Ron a great deal.

Ron shifted in his bed and thought a bit. There were a great many things that bothered Ron. But of all the things that bothered Ronald Arthur Weasley, the one that really got under his skin was that Hermione had broken up with him. And because he was a prefect he had to spend a lot of time with her.

That really bit the big one in his book.

She\'d offered up no explanations. Nothing except the old \"It\'s not you; it\'s me\" chestnut. Ron really didn\'t give a damn. He loved that girl. Was practically obsessed with her. Hermione had fed him a bunch of crap about how she didn\'t feel right about it and how he felt more like a brother than a boyfriend and blah blah blah. Ron didn\'t buy any of it. However, he did the gentlemanly thing and tried to take it well. It didn\'t work though. He couldn\'t stomach the thought of her...of even seeing her. She\'d really hurt him. In her own way she could be just as cruel and self-obsessed as Malfoy.

Malfoy. Ugh. He couldn\'t stomach the thought of Malfoy either. Ron regarded Malfoy as a soft, overindulged git. He was enough to make Ron\'s empty stomach gurgle in in protest.

\"Bleah.\" Ron pulled a face to go along with the sound. \"Almost enough to put one off the thoughts of an excellent breakfast.\"

Pushing thoughts of Malfoy aside, Ron shoved back the draperies. Immediately he began blinking madly at the bright sun streaming in the windows. Apparently the others also had the idea of getting up. Dean, Seamus, Harry and Neville pushed back the covers on their beds nearly simultaneously. Soon the chamber was abuzz with activity and excited chatter from the boys. Ron, stayed silent, lost in thought.
********

Harry had heard Ron\'s \"bleah\" and wondered where that had come from. Turning over in his bed, his brain turned busily. His first thought was of Ginny. Surely she\'d be up by now, always having been an early riser. Harry\'d learnt that during his summer at the Burrow. By contrast, he himself was something of a night owl. It came from all those years of having to sneak about in the wee hours.

Harry stared fuzzily at the clock on the bedside. It read \"almost time to get up.\" It was a present from Ron. He gave it to Harry in sixth year. Hermione had received a similar timepiece. Things seemed to pass in an almost halcyon daze last year. Until the deaths began to occur.

Since brother wands could not be used against one another, Voldemort used a direct approach. He\'d placed poor Professor Sprout under the Imperious Curse while she was on holiday. To that end, Sprout concocted a marvelous potion. It worked slowly, giving the impression that one died of a lingering illness. Professor Trelawney, Hannah Abbott and Liam Quirke were casualties. Their deaths still saddened Harry. She\'d almost gotten Ginny, but for grace, Snape had been passing by the greenhouse and heard Sprout talking to someone.

What Snape saw was enough to sicken even a hardened ex-Death Eater like himself. It was Sprout, naked, completely enfolded in ropy vines, talking to a plant, which extraordinarily spoke back. Just as Voldemort had once secreted himself in Professor Quirrell\'s head, he\'d become part of a plant. Who would\'ve suspected it? No one did. Even now, Harry was impressed by the ingenuity Voldemort applied.

Harry owed Snape a great deal. The greasy haired git had saved his life on more than one occasion. How could someone who hated you so much continue to rescue you on a regular basis? Harry wondered. Not that there was any love lost on his side. Harry would never forgive Snape for the events of fifth year. His brain flashed mournfully on Sirius before he shoved these thoughts aside and joined Dean, Seamus and Neville in their excited chatter. Only Ron was silent, Harry noticed.

(Must be thinking of Hermione.) Ron thought a lot about Hermione. Harry knew that Ron was still hung up on their mutual friend. Thankfully Harry\'d realized that he and Hermione were not cut out to be together and managed to patch things between them. Still, Harry held out hope that someday their friendship would be repaired. Ron and Hermione were meant for each other. He hoped that one day they themselves would see that.

The five boys trundled off to the bathroom to perform their ablutions and the day began.