Chapter Five
"Harry, you know I have a little sister?" Ron said as he stood in the entrance to Hermione's Wardrobe. He hoped that he wasn't interrupting them too much. They'd departed to look at the books that Hermione's mother had sent. They were hefty ones, of the type that he knew Hermione had recently been forbidden to load her bag with.
"I think you brought it up, once or twice before," Harry said, looking up from the book he and Hermione were examining. "Something about her being a bit obsessive about her bedtime stories."
"Yeah, Ginny likes those fictional Boy-Who-Lived stories," Ron said. "I've written her, and told her that you're nothing like those stories, but ... well ... you're still her hero."
"I'm not a hero though," Harry said. "I mean, I just survived."
"You're my hero, Harry," Hermione said, putting her arm around Harry. Ron had noticed that Hermione did that a lot more since Christmas, and Harry seemed a lot more accepting of it. Back in September, Harry had often flinched when you put your arm on his shoulders.
"Well, I was thinking, there are a lot of people who think like Ginny, and well, you're going to keep running into them," Ron said, nervously clasping and unclasping his hands as he talked. "Maybe it might be a good idea to well, write something to do that, you know something to kind of break that a bit. And well, I think I might have a way."
"Really?" Harry said. Ron thought he looked a bit too eager for a solution, any solution.
"I found, okay Parvati found, this book which had letters between Merlin and a little girl named Guinevere, talking about what Merlin really did, and with my sister's name really being Ginevra, which is a form of Guinevere ... well, we might be able to do the same thing, and publish both of your letters. I wrote Ginny, and she's on board. I think she really wants to say she got a letter from you though."
"Maybe," Harry said, looking down at his hands. "I really wish I really knew what happened that night."
"The books seem to be contradictory on the subject," Hermione said. Ron noticed that Harry was suddenly centering his attention on her. He'd looked up and was looking right into Hermione's eyes. "The four I've identified as primary sources of the theories are quite different.
"The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord believes that it's related to the time between your birth and Halloween. However the provided calculations have several math errors that the editor did not appear to have caught. Real, basic proofreading is a lost art in publishing.
"Rita Skeeter's The Boy Who Lived seems to think that there is some intrinsic trait of Potter children, of which the author refuses to speculate further, though she insinuates that it might be due to a dark ritual done by, and I quote, 'the use of the blood of the boy's real pure blood mother.' which is simply ridiculous.
"Xenophilius Lovegood says, in his The Third Lord, that it's due to a hallowed cloth bestowed upon the Potters, which I admit, that stripped of the tabloid boy from Mars accompaniment actually sounds the most sensible. It also has the benefit of matching with the cloak that was a belated Christmas gift and return from the Headmaster ... not that the Headmaster admits that he returned it.
"Then there is Gilderoy Lockhart's acclaimed prequel to the Adventures of the Boy-Who-Lived, which claims, of all things, that your scar is actually a rune that your mother carved into your forehead, giving you special protection against dark lords at the cost of her own life. I strongly suspect, however, that Lockhart has a ghost writer for that book."
"I want to find out the real story, or as close as we can, before I start writing Ginny," Harry said, looking back at Ron. "Tell Ginny, though, that I want a letter from her, first. You can borrow Hedwig."
Harry was not sure how he was going to do this. Potions with Dumbledore had changed a bit when Susan Bones, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy had joined the class. It was not really a change in teaching, material, or anything like that. Class still began or ended with the discussion with Dumbledore on the sofas at the far end of the lab. It was the flavor of the class. Before it had been all Gryffindors, and Harry was friends with all of them.
It had been a bit tense when Draco had arrived. In Dumbledore's class, everyone was to use their first names, without exception. They hadn't know that Susan, Blaise, and Draco were joining them, and well, Ron had his particular prejudices. It had helped that Draco had been strangely silent since Christmas, aside from the pranks that kept enveloping him and Susan. But Draco was a Slytherin, and Ron ... well it was a good thing that Dumbledore didn't do partners.
It had been almost a week since then, and the class was beginning to settle again. Before the arrival of the three, Harry would have had a lot less of a problem bringing it up. It was, however, the only time that he really could talk with Dumbledore, and he really wanted the support of his friends when he did so.
His friends ... that was something that Harry was still getting used to. Before Hogwarts, he hadn't had friends. He'd been alone, bullied, afraid, and lost to the world. Now he had friends, and more than that. He had Hermione who was giving him real family, family which he had always wanted. With her and his friends at his side, he felt he could do anything.
Dumbledore was coming to the end of his review, finishing the answer to Draco. "The precise stirring count on this potion is a bit variable. In general the hue of blue should be a deep royal when you remove the stirrer. That being said, there is some use to the more baby blue that you obtained. It is often kept for children's doses. Any other questions?"
Harry took a deep breath, once he was sure that no one else had a potions related question. "It's not about potions, sir, but I think you might be the only one who can answer it."
"My door is always open to you, Harry," Dumbledore said.
"Professor, what can you tell me about what really happened the night my parents died?" Harry began. "I've always wondered, and what Hermione and Pavrati have found, well it doesn't really add up. Some of the theories make less sense than Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's died drunk in a car crash story."
The room went silent. The only sound was that of water dripping off the rinsed equipment used for the day's potions. Harry watched Dumbledore look around the room, catching the eyes of first one, then another of his classmates before meeting Harry's. They seemed to bore into Harry's own, silently asking, is this where and when you really want to know about this. Then with a nod, Dumbledore spoke.
"I'm afraid that I can not really tell what happened that night in Godric's Hallow. I shall tell you what I do know," Dumbledore began."I was not the first on the scene, nor the second. Your parents were protected by a charm that limited who knew where they were. Only the secret keeper or one that they had told in person or by written statement, could find the Godric's Hallow cottage that I had rented to them.
"As I was the owner, I had several charms monitoring the cottage, meant to alert me. Alas the charms are only as good as that of the monitor. They reside, still reside, in my office, still melted trinkets to remind me of my failure. I did not find out about the attack until after the Halloween feast."
Harry could tell that telling the story was already beginning to effect the Headmaster. The jolliness that had enthused his teaching had drained from his face, and there was a tone of genuine regret to his voice. Harry felt his own hand closing on Hermione's.
"Hagrid was the first on the scene. He'd promised Lily, your mother, to bring some select sweets from the feast. Lily had a real sweet tooth, and while hiding she could not often satisfy it. When he arrived, the front of your bedroom had already been blown out. I believe he retrieved you from outside the cottage.
"Hagrid had an encounter with Sirius Black, acknowledged to be the secret keeper for he ran off after Peter Pettigrew. When I arrived, I sent him to first take you to be examined by Madam Pomfrey before taking you to your Aunt's as she is your closest surviving relative. Then I set out to examine the scene closely.
"There were some runes carved in the cradle which you had been in, but it is uncertain who made them, and unfortunately the exact order and placement of the runes is uncertain due to the damage. I do know that your mother was the only other person in the room. Your father's body was found at the base of the stairs. Unlike your mother, he was not in a condition for open casket funeral.
"I think it is clear that your mother did something, and it probably involved runes in some fashion, that protected you. What it was, with the evidence obtainable, is a mystery. So, of course, every says they know, as there are very few ways to disprove those theories."
Dumbledore seemed to be sunk into his chair. "Harry, your parents were among the best witches and wizards that I have seen come through Hogwarts. I can not say that I knew them well. I was their headmaster, not their professor, so aside from a few classes where I took over for the usual professor for one reason or another, and from the interactions between myself and them when they were Head Boy and Head Girl, I can not really tell you a lot about them. It is one of my deepest regrets that I do not find ways to talk with students like this class more often.
"I have long said my door is always open to the students of Hogwarts. I try to keep it that way. Please, keep asking questions, keep open to talking. Don't let anyone stop you."
There was silence for a moment, as Dumbledore collected himself. He straightened in his chair, and cleaned his spectacles. Then finally, he spoke again. "I am sure you will have more questions, eventually about that night. Unfortunately, if I don't release you soon, you may be late for dinner, and Madam Pomfrey will be most cross with me."
Hedwig was a big believer in listening to one's elders. At least listening, not always following, of course. If she'd followed everything she wouldn't have found that fast way to Crawley. This time, she wasn't going to Crawley, though. She was on her way to Ottery Saint Catchpole, in Devon. She had know she was eventually going to end up going to the town. Her Harry was friends with the red head, after all.
Hedwig liked the red head, as he'd been the one to suggest that Harry give her a piece of bacon. Hedwig was addicted to bacon. That alone had given the red head a pass for many offenses. It had also led her to seek out his family owl, Errol.
Errol had a reputation of being a dedicated but somewhat lazy owl, though with a lot of dignity and wisdom. He also told some of the best stories in the entire parliament of owls who flew to Hogwarts. He had a real gift for story telling, and a treasure trove of old movie tales which he apparently got from a late night theater which had a tendency to play a lot of really old movies. Errol liked to say that his owners had named him after one of the stars of those old Robin Hood movies. It might have even been true, given what Hedwig had learned about the red head's parents.
In any case, Hedwig had taken the time to find out the best way to fly to the Burrow. As she was now in possession of a letter destined for one Ginny "baby sis" Weasley, Hedwig was making use of it. There was a very nice thermal that allowed an almost perfect glide into the kitchen of the Borrow. A last minute bank, and Hedwig was in the kitchen.
With a single cry, she led out her claw with the letter for Ginny Weasley to take. Hedwig knew that there were actually two letters folded together. She figured that Ginny would read the one from her Harry first. Ginny took the letter courteously, and immediately handed over a crispy piece of bacon. Hedwig quickly concluded that this little girl had her priorities right.
Errol was at the Burrow, but apparently still asleep on his perch as Hedwig found a comfortable position on a chair back next to Ginny.
The girl started reading, in between bites of her breakfast, every once in a while feeding Hedwig another bit of bacon. She wasn't one to sit still, and appeared to habitually twist her hair around her index finger. On finishing reading, she carefully put the letter aside, out of range of her breakfast.
There was another cry of another owl, a barn owl, as Hedwig received her sixth bit of bacon from the young girl who she was now sure was going to become her favorite person to deliver letters to. It was one of the Hogwarts owls dedicated to the use of Professors, Metis. Hedwig had passed Metis early in her journey, when she had soared up to the thermal as she crossed over Hadrian's Wall.
Metis landed next to Mrs. Weasley, and offered her a letter, then glared at Hedwig for monopolizing Ginny. Hedwig took another piece of bacon, and then moved aside a bit, so Metis could join her.
"I swear, Ginny, you're going to make every Hogwarts owl want to spend more time at the Burrow than Hogwarts," Mrs. Weasley said, as she opened the letter.
Hedwig knew that Metis jealously guarded her rights to deliver official letters to the Burrow. She now knew why, bacon.
"Oh dear," Mrs. Weasley said. "Arthur's working Saturday ... Ginny, it seems that we're going to have to spend Saturday at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall wants me to come up there for a conference on Fred and George."
"Didn't Percy want you to make him something for his Valentine Day dinner with Penny?" Ginny asked, as she started her brother's letter, having basically finished her breakfast.
"I believe so," Mrs. Weasley said. "Poor Penny, starting out with twins. I don't know what I'd have done if I'd started out with Fred and George instead of Bill. Not that things were easy with Bill. Having children isn't easy, Ginny, but they are a joy to have, most of the time." The last part was muttered to the point that Hedwig was sure that Ginny couldn't hear it. "Now, what news did your brother have to share."
"He's worried about keeping up his class standing," Ginny suddenly giggled as she read the next line. "Apparently he thinks that being ranked fourth is some kind of a fluke, and now that he's done it, he'll have to transfer to Ravenclaw, even though he rooms with numbers one and two. Fred and George are apparently engaged in some sort of a prank war that Ron keeps ending up in the middle of. Monday evening he spent unable to speak in anything other than lines from Shakespeare. He keeps walking in on Penny and Percy, too."
"Oh that poor boy," Mrs. Weasley said. "And how are his roommates treating him?"
"Well, Seamus apparently has decided that Hogwarts winters are too cold for his habits," Ginny said. "I'm not sure what that's about. Dean is teaching everyone some sort of muggle game called football. Ron thinks being a goalie in it will help him with becoming a Keeper in Quidditch someday."
Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "I've never quite understood the boys obsession with Quidditch."
Hedwig noticed that Ginny was rolling her eyes at that. Hedwig liked to watch Quidditch, herself. There were times that she wished she had the necessary equipment to pass the quaffle. She was going to catch a snitch someday, and surprise her Harry.
"Ron says Neville thinks that our problem with the squash and carrots is that we need to till deeper before planting, especially with the carrots," Ginny continued. "There is a pool for when Harry and Hermione finally kiss on the lips. The girls have apparently arranged for a special Valentine's Day dinner for the first year Gryffindors, and Ron's afraid that he's going to be the odd boy out. They're going to draw lots for who gets to sit with Lavender, Parvati, and Sally-Ann."
"At their age, I'm surprised that they're even doing anything for Valentine's Day," Mrs. Weasley commented, as Ginny folded up the letter. "Now, I want you to think about what you're going to respond to those letters while you do your chores. There is no need for slap dash replies to your brother. I want them to be readable and coherent."
"Yes, Mum," Ginny said, in a tone that Hedwig classified as long suffering. "I'll get right onto my chores." Ginny gave one last piece of bacon each to Hedwig and Metis, before siding out of her chair and heading upstairs.
"Now, where did I put the Howler paper?" Mrs. Weasley mused as Errol finally woke up. "Better I let you wake up a bit, Errol. I think I need to build up some proper steam on this anyway."
Hedwig turned her head to look at Metis. It was better to let Errol have the howler. Hedwig was there for Ginny's return letter anyway, so she didn't have to worry that she'd get stuck with the loud red letter. Metis silently indicated that she wasn't worried about getting stuck with it either. Together they watched as Mrs. Weasley built up that steam and began to write one of her famous howlers. It looked like Fred and George were going to be regretting their latest pranks even before Saturday's conference.
Hermione would have preferred not to have check ups every Saturday. Madam Pomfrey had said that she didn't need them that frequently, yet, but Harry had been scared by January's confinement to the Hospital Wing. Hermione had to admit that he had a right to be scared. She had been scared. Before Madam Pomfrey had let her loose after her case of hyperemesis gravidarum, she had told Hermione about how bad it could have gotten in order to scare her into following every order.
Hermione followed Madam Pomfrey's orders to the letter. She also followed Harry's order to have a weekly visit with Madam Pomfrey. That one, she really didn't think was necessary, but she felt compelled to do it anyway.
It was the first order that Harry had truly given her.
Hermione had read up on her bond, and bonds like it. She knew the formula for how the orders would effect her:
(3x+y-w)/t
The formula seemed so dry, until you realized you were living under it. Three times the intimacy of the order given plus determination to follow minus her will power against it, all divided by the time since the order given. Most of the time, Harry didn't impart the necessary determination to anything he said to her to overwhelm her will power against it. Harry really wasn't a boy who wanted to control anyone, not with the way he'd grown up.
Hermione knew Harry very well. She hadn't known him very well that day when she'd accepted his bond. She'd been afraid then, afraid of having a baby, afraid of what her parents would say, afraid of being expelled ... afraid that no one would ever love her. Hermione wasn't afraid anymore.
She was, however, upset at the fact that his order was preventing her from sleeping in on Saturday. That was one habit that Hermione had picked up from the boys since she moved to their dorm. She'd been surprised when the boys had actually told her to go back to bed. It might have been the first time Harry had actually told her something that she obeyed. Hermione was honest enough with herself that her early rising on Saturday was the remnant of a love of an early morning show on the telly. Of course, she wasn't going to tell anyone that, and especially what show it was.
So, until after her illness in January, she'd enjoyed not having to get up at six antemeridian every Saturday morning. Of course she still woke up rather early, but when she did, Hermione would pull out her latest novel, not a school book, school books were strictly forbidden before noon, prop up a couple pillows against the corner of the walls above bed, and read.
Sometime around the beginning of December, Ron had found a way to get blueberry scones and pumpkin juice delivered to the dorm room on Saturdays and Sundays. He'd told her that it was only because of her pregnancy that he'd been able to convince the elves. Hermione had made a note to follow up on the elves, but hadn't made it a priority, as she was afraid that it would end her access to the scones. The scones, the first of which always made it into her hand via a plate that Harry would levitate on to the shelf above the head of her bed, were simply perfect. She's never tasted any better.
And now, thanks to Harry's order, she had to get out of her nightgown at eight forty in order to get to the Hospital Wing for her nine o'clock weekly check up. It wasn't fair. Hermione really wanted to finish Nancy Drew and Clue in the Crumbling Wall. She only had thirty more pages! Harry was right though. Her baby was more important than the book. So Hermione was now sitting on a bed in the Hospital Wing, in only the opening in the back hospital gown, awaiting her turn along with the three other pregnant girls at Hogwarts.
Victoria was to her right. The Slytherin third-year was almost eight months along now. Hermione was not looking forward to waddling around like Victoria was. She made sure to listen closely when Madam Pomfrey told Victoria what she couldn't do. It gave her a preview of what she could expect. Victoria needed to gain more weight, a problem that Hermione also had.
To Hermione's left was Penelope Weasley. She'd married Percy over break, and was about a month behind Hermione's fifteen weeks, but didn't look like it, as she was having twins. Hermione liked the Ravenclaw prefect. Since she was sleeping in Gryffindor Tower with Percy now, Penny was always available to help, or just talk.
Finally there was the newest to join the weekly check ups. Yukihime Chang was a seventh year Hufflepuff, who had been married right before beginning her seventh year. It was an arranged marriage, his third. A step-daughter was in Ravenclaw.
"Please tell me, Victoria, that the ankles don't get worse," Penny said, as she looked across Hermione.
"I can't say that, Missus Weasley," Victoria replied, drawing out the prefect's name. "There are only two know cures for our poor abused ankles, a good soak and rubbing, or those ankle bracelets like Hermione sports. I don't think there are any more of those available either."
"Sorry, Penelope, but I can't lend you mine," Hermione said, regretfully, as the doors to the Hospital Wing swung wide open.
A swollen mass of red hair floated through the door, at the direction of Professor McGonagall. It was too big to be a student. "Poppy! Molly's been hit with sneezing potion and swelling solution!"
Immediately the Matron turned to take care of what was obviously a parent visiting the school. The spells were cast quickly and silently, and potions were summoned swiftly, but without spilling a drop, indeed, without even causing the potion to tilt in the flask.
Hermione watched in amazement as the swelling went down, revealing the homely face of the management of the Weasley Household. At least she assumed it was Mrs. Weasley. That seemed to be confirmed minutes later when Fred and George Weasley entered, screaming, with what appeared to be mucus formed bats exiting from their noses. A very satisfied young auburn haired girl followed them, with an expression of grim determination. A spark shot out from the wand the girl carried, hitting one of the twins in their gluteus maximus, and the girl smirked as George Weasley jumped.
"Misters Weasley, how nice of you to join us," Professor McGonagall said, as the girl slipped her mother's wand on to the stand next to the bed her mother was in. "Against the wall, boys. Thank you Miss Weasley. Bat Boogie Hex? Are you sure you're not eleven?"
"Not until August, Professor," the girl who Hermione thought had to be Ginny Weasley said.
"I shall expect a high standard from you next fall, then," McGonagall said. "Madam Pomfrey, prognosis, please?"
"I can fix it, but Molly is going to be here overnight," Pomfrey said as she continued to cast spells on the unmoving mother. "It's not the first time this combination has knocked her out. The quick treatment helps.
"Daddy's not supposed to be home tonight until ten," Ginny said in a worried voice.
McGonagall bent down to look in Ginny's eyes, placing her hand on her left shoulder. "I shall see about you staying overnight. There is an extra bed still in the First Year's dorm." Then she stood up and looked at the twins. Hermione watched as the calm, collected, and concerned head of house turned into the stern taskmaster of transfiguration in just a few seconds. "Fred and George Weasley, I'm afraid that you will not be going to Hogsmeade this afternoon. Instead I think it's time that you are reminded of the hazards of pranking.
"I shall be talking to Professor Snape about a proper demonstration of the effects. Unfortunately, he has business in London today. Therefore we shall start your punishment with a little manual labor. There was a small accident in the Library, requiring Flitch to have to replace a whole bookcase in the Potions section. You will report to him immediately, and assist him with any task in that repair and replacement, as well as assist Madam Pince with re-shelving. You are third year students, I expect better of you. Dismissed."
Hermione watched as the twins sulked out of the Hospital Wing. She filed away how the Professor had dealt with both Ginny and the twins. It seemed to be a good way. With her hand resting on her belly, Hermione began to think about how it would be like to raise children. She really didn't want to have just one, though given that she was having one during her first year at Hogwarts, she hoped that there would be a significant gap between this first one and the next.
She'd spent hours researching about what was happening to her, and what she could expect from her baby. Her mother had warned her that sometimes books didn't tell you everything, and sometimes they were wrong, but Hermione didn't believe her, really. Okay, she hoped that the description of labor was wrong.
Hermione knew she was having a boy. Harry didn't want to know, so she hadn't told him. The girls knew, and so did her mother. She allowed herself to imagine a little Harry toddling around her home, with even messier hair and Harry's green eyes. She couldn't imagine Harry fathering a child without those green eyes. As she let her thoughts drift while waiting for Madam Pomfrey to get to her, she relaxed into sleep.
Sally-Anne Perks had been the one that had came up with the idea of having a Valentine's Day Dinner among the first years of Gryffindor. So she was quite proud of how the set up had ended up. Of course, she had been a bit worried about the fact that there were only nine Gryffindors, five boys, four girls, which made the couples uneven. Then Ginny Weasley ended up having to stay overnight when her mother got hurt, and that problem was solved.
Sally-Anne had drawn Dean as her dinner partner, and she had to admit that he did clean up rather well. Not that the boys had really wanted to take the girls to dinner for Valentine's Day. Harry had caught on to the idea, though. Sally-Anne had pitched it as something special that Hermione would always remember.
The red dress that Sally-Anne wore was one that she'd sent for the week before. It had required a little alteration, as she'd gained a little in the right places since she'd last worn it. She was sure that Dean wouldn't notice. As she reached the Common Room, she discovered the boys waiting. They were all dressed up, suit coats and bow-ties. Where they'd found those, Sally-Anne had no idea.
As she stepped to the foot of the stairs, Dean stepped forward and bowed. "My Lady Sally-Anne, may I escort you to dinner, tonight?"
"You may, good sir," Sally-Anne replied impishly, noticing that Percy was standing off to the side with a big smile on his face.
Dean offered his arm, saying, "Shall we?"
Dean had taken the lead in setting up the study hall for the dinner. He knew the image that he wanted to provide. As he lead Sally-Anne into the room, he though he'd succeeded. There were five tables evenly placed through the room, their candle-lit walnut tops gleaming. White plates with braided gold edging centered on each seat. The real silverware sat on scarlet cloth napkins.
He pulled back the chair for Sally-Anne to sit in, just like Percy had taught them all. They were doing this for the girls, most especially for Hermione, of course. Harry insisted that she was someone special. There was no way Dean would be anywhere as near as good in class without Hermione.
Of course, doing it for just Harry and Hermione would have made it too obvious, at least according to Sally-Anne, when she'd approached him, Dean, and Neville. So they all were, with Neville saved at the last minute from eating alone.
Dean sat down after taking in the room's set up one last time. As he did, his eyes crossed the one candlestick and it's flickering flame that lit the table he shared with Sally-Anne. The reflection of the flame was catching the gilded frames of her glasses, and through them he could see the flames reflected in her umber eyes. His hand itched to pick up a pencil and pull out his pad to draw the lines of her nose and chin as the soft candlelight highlighted them.
Parvati sat down in the chair that Seamus had pulled out for her. She'd never expected anything like this, and there was no way that a dress was going to arrive in time. So she'd had some fun with some coloring charms and a dress that had been a bit small on her. It had been pink, with a slightly darker tangerine pattern, but now it was a two piece in red. She'd added a gold sash borrowed from Katie Bell, tied high enough to cover her belly button yet still leave a bit of her belly bare, and matched the golden teardrops that adorned it's skirt on the bottom of the shortened top. It was passable, in her opinion.
Seamus seemed to like it. He'd complimented her on it. She smelled the influence of the Prefect Weasleys. There was no other way that the boys could have gotten this much right. The gentle circulation of the room brought news of her dinner's arrival. She looked down to discover her favorite chicken and dumplings. Across the room she could tell that Sally-Anne had her favorite steak. Parvati knew that Seamus liked steak too, and was surprised when she glanced at his plate to discover that he had the same dinner as she had.
Parvati smiled. Maybe this wouldn't be the disaster that her twin sister had predicted. As least as long as he chose to change the water into wine instead of rum, she thought as his wand touched the wine glasses
"In vino vertus," Seamus intoned. The water changed from clear to the deep burgundy wine he'd intended. He knew it wasn't the proper wine for the meal. It was for what Sally-Anne was having, but if he couldn't have steak because of Parvati's beliefs, he was at least going to have the wine like what his Uncle Patrick served at his rectory.
"Thank you, Seamus," Parvati said, raising the glass. She took a sip before Seamus could taste his own. "I think you got that spell down."
Seamus could feel his blush in the warmth of his cheeks and ears. Parvati was not one to praise him. He mumbled a reply, "It's nice that the practice has paid off. Now I just have to get it down to be non-verbal. But that will be a real miracle."
Neville had been worried that he'd get stuck with Parvati's sister for the Valentine's Day dinner. He didn't know Padma well, at all. Even having only met Ginny Weasley that morning, he knew her better. Ron was in the habit of reading his sister's letters out loud, and he'd been drafted into the Letters to Harry Potter Project. Ron had to finish his Transfiguration Essay that afternoon, so Neville had somehow ended up walking around Hogwarts with the auburn haired chatter box. Ron was going to regret that.
He'd missed the practice that Percy had scheduled for how to make it feel special for the girls. It had left Neville nervous as he waited for Ginny in the Common Room. It was a feeling that hadn't left him until he'd taken his seat across from her and their food had appeared. Something about her expression of wonder at the appearance, she'd told him that she'd never gone out to eat before, set him at ease. It gave him the courage to reignite the conversation they'd started before she'd been dragged up to get ready by the other girls.
"So, Ginny, you were telling me about how you fly at the Burrow?" Neville asked. The animated expression on her face as she described the performance of her brothers' brooms as she flew around her family's estate was reflected in Neville's smile.
Ginny Weasley could not believe her luck. She had spent the day and would spend the night at Hogwarts. She was having a real date for dinner, and she was only ten. She'd had fun going around Hogwarts six and a half months early with Neville. She'd thought she'd end up eating with her brothers in the Great Hall, which would have been good, but this was great.
She'd been asked what she wanted to have for dinner, and Neville had asked her again, when she'd answered with normal Burrow fare. Ginny got a dinner that she'd never, ever got at home. On her gilded edged plate was a real T-bone steak. She had broccoli spears in cheddar cheese sauce and steamed rice like what Luna's Mum had cooked.
And best of all, she had someone who would listen to her chatter, her opinion, and talk to her as a equal. It was a heady feeling for the young girl. True, it wasn't a date with the Boy-Who-Lived, like she had dreamed up. She knew that was a dream that wasn't going to happen now. The Boy-Who-Lived was a mirage in the desert, like her oldest brother Bill had told her about. It didn't exist, at least not as everyone thought it did. Her letters to Harry had helped with that, and seeing him with Hermione had been the last nail in the coffin for the image she'd made from her bedtime stories.
Neville laughed at her story of how she'd managed to loose her socks in the trees on one midnight broom ride. She smiled back at him. Then she listened as he told her of a midnight expedition of his own on the Longbottom estate. This was much better than the old books she'd had for years.
Ron Weasley had been worried about his sister and Neville. Not that they'd get into trouble, he figured that if they got in trouble it was most likely going to be because of Ginny, and Ginny had long ago perfected the art of talking her way out of punishment. No, he had been worried that she'd be out of place, a tag along.
It had been his own worry when he'd boarded the Hogwarts Express to begin his first year. Bill had been Head Boy. Charlie had been the Quidditch star. Percy was ... well Percy. Fred and George were the jokesters. Ron wanted to stand out, to be someone, and as the last boy in a family of seven children, he had long felt that he never would. That had changed when he had met Harry, and even more so when Hermione had come up with her studying idea. He was fourth in class, had good friends who weren't friends because of his brothers, or what he knew, but because they liked him for who he was.
When he heard Neville laugh, and saw Ginny's smile, he wasn't worried anymore about his sister. Taking one last look at their table, and noticing his sister's dress, which wasn't one of her own but was familiar, he met his tablemate's gaze. "Thank you for lending the dress to Ginny, and helping her get ready," Ron said. "I think you've made sure this is a night to remember for her."
Lavender Brown knew that Ron had been worried all day. First about his mother who was spending the night in the Hospital Wing following a prank potion interaction, and then about his little sister. She'd seen his relief when she'd taken Ginny up to the First Year Girl's dorm to get ready. Ginny hadn't been expecting that, and Lavender had fun with the young girl. All the girls had had fun getting ready. She'd been surprised when Hermione had been the first to pull out the make up kit, but within minutes all of them were putting it on, making sure that they were all at their bests. For all five of them, this would be their first date ... not that they were telling the boys that it was.
"I think you have something to do with it too," Lavender said. Ron was so cute when he blushed.
"I just set up the tables like Dean asked, and polished them good," Ron said, his ears red. "Seamus arranged for the suits with his Uncle Fearghus. Neville convinced McGonagall to let us use the room. Harry got Percy to enlarge some of Dean's pictures to cover the walls, and put them up. Dean fixed up the candles and found the music."
Lavender hadn't even noticed the soft music, but now that she did, it didn't take her long to identify it. "Handel's Water Music?"
"Yeah," Ron replied. "It's supposed to be some sort of original recording. Madam Pince wouldn't let him have it at first until he told her his plans. Dean told us about the legend behind the piece..."
Lavender smiled as Ron talked animatedly about the music. She'd thought she was going to suffer through a meal hearing about the Cannons when she'd drawn Ron for her dinner partner. She'd thought that he was going to stare at his sister and her date all meal once they'd sat down. It was nice to find out that she was wrong.
The only thing that Hermione had found wrong with the Valentine's Day Dinner was that her plate seemed to empty way too quickly. Of course, this was a condition that the girl was getting used to special dinner or not. She picked up a folk load of the cherry pie a la mode, taking time to relish the taste, this time. It wasn't often that she got cherry pie, never before at Hogwarts, and this one was a good one. She could see from her seat that everyone had a piece. It had to be something special treat for the day. "This is good."
"Perhaps I'll teach you how to bake one this summer," Harry responded. He had a big smile on his face, as if he thought the compliment applied to him personally.
With a sudden realization, Hermione asked, "Where were you this morning?" He'd been gone when she'd gotten back from her appointment with Pomfrey.
"The Hogwarts Kitchens, where else?" Harry said. "The head elf, Homken, had some objection to me using the equipment, at first, but I think I brought him around. I wanted to have some part of the dinner be something I made, because I wanted to, for once." Hermione could hear the determination in Harry's voice, and the pride in what he had done. It was something she wanted to hear more of.
Hermione took another bite of the cherry pie. She also wanted more of Harry's cherry pie.
Harry had gotten exactly two bites out of his piece of cherry pie before Hermione had stolen it. He really had no problem with that, though the thought crossed his mind that just once he'd like to be able to have a whole piece of his own pie. Instead he looked across the table at his Hermione. He'd never quite seen her this way. He was sure she had makeup on. Hermione never wore makeup. It was rather artfully done, though. He preferred her without it. Her hair had been tamed. Harry's hair was never tamed, and several times the other girls said that they feared that Hermione's baby's hair would be simply untamable.
All too soon the grandfather clock that Professor McGonagall had placed in the room stuck eight, reminding them to return to the common room. Harry helped Hermione stand. He had to do that every once in a while now, as her center of balance had started to shift, now that she was starting to show. He'd been warned never to mention the word fat in her presence. He lead her back to the Common Room on his arm, the other pairs trailing behind them.
As Harry entered the Common Room, he discovered that Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster were seated by the fire, sipping tea. He came to a stop at the foot of the stairs leading up to the dorm, and said to Hermione, "Here is where we part for the moment. I hope you enjoyed our dinner."
"I did," Hermione replied, as she turned to face him. There was a thoughtfull expression on her face, as she continued. "Maybe we can do it again sometime?"
Harry found himself unable to reply, as Hermione enveloped him in a hug. He could only return the hug, pulling her body so her baby bump pushed against his belly. Her eyes caught his gaze, the big brown eyes seeming to hypnotize him. As she pulled away, Harry missed the feeling, but he could only watch as she ascended the stairs.
For the next twenty minutes, Harry sat in the Common Room, thinking about the dinner, replaying it, and the hug over and over in his mind. Once the all clear was given, he ascended the stairs with the other boys, to find Hermione already asleep in her wardrobe room's bed.
He stood in the doorway, looking at her sleeping, unable to pull himself away. Harry had no idea how long he stood there, but all the other boys were done and in bed by the time he pulled himself away. He was the last to climb in bed, sending the room into darkness.