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Path Diverged II
By hp_fangal

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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP
Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Sirius Black
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance
Warnings: Disturbing Imagery, Mental Abuse, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 220
Summary: The Wizarding world finally knows that Lord Voldemort has returned, and the Second War has begun. As Harry prepares to enter his sixth year at Hogwarts, he is forced to deal with the trauma from his last encounter with Voldemort, the upcoming trial of Dolores Umbridge, Sirius's uncomfortable questions about his childhood, his budding relationship with Ginny Weasley, and the unknown shadow of what lies ahead as the "Chosen One" who must defeat Voldemort once and for all. This is an AU take of Half-Blood Prince following my previous story, Path Diverged.
Hitcount: Story Total: 92320; Chapter Total: 2560
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
One year ago I posted a story that I was interested in exploring, yet had no clue where it was heading in the long-term, Path Diverged. I'm not going to lie: I have floundered somewhat in this sequel. I've even relied a little more heavily on canon than I first thought I would as I have struggled to figure out where this is going and how it's going to end. In reality, I've recently finished writing the first draft of chapter 38 with a clear ending in mind at long last (and even some parts of the final battle have been written out, as well!). I know I've used canon material (more than I expected to, in all honesty), and while I can promise it is not going to stay that way, you'll have to bear with me through chapter 38 to really see this story take off in a rather unexpected direction. The buffer between where you're at as the reader and where I'm at as the writer has helped somewhat in shaping this story, but as the school year wraps up (the last day of school where I teach is 22 May), I'll have loads more time to really write and get this story the way I want it to be, which will also mean posting more frequently again. For those of you who have stayed with me this long, thank you so much!

And now, on with the chapter. Enjoy!




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Chapter Twenty-Eight: Focus



Harry hesitated for a moment before knocking on Snape’s office door.

“Enter.”

Pushing the door open, Harry was unsurprised to see that Snape’s dungeon office hadn’t changed one bit despite him no longer being the Potions master. Snape was seated behind his desk, grading what looked like fifth-year homework.

“Shut the door, Potter.”

Harry obliged, hoping that his nervousness about being here wasn’t showing on his face.

“As much as I’m certain you’d rather be enjoying yourself with Professor Slughorn’s little party, rescheduling detentions for such trifles is not something I am in the habit of doing.”

Harry nodded quickly. “I didn’t ask him to talk to you, sir. I only told him I had the detention tonight.”

Why had he said that? Snape never believed him, always claimed that Harry was an attention-seeker who wanted all the fame and attention that came with it.

Snape glanced up at Harry, but Harry averted his eyes, all-too aware of the power behind that dark-eyed gaze. He clenched his shaking hands into fists at his sides, grateful that his robes concealed the action.

“Sit down, Potter,” was all Snape said. That was odd.

Harry moved to the chair opposite Snape and sat down, balling his hands on his lap.

Snape stared at Harry for a few seconds. “Monday evening, you made it inescapably clear that you do not know how to clear your mind. I had previously thought you were too stubborn to actually try – or just incompetent.”

Harry tried not to squirm. He genuinely hadn’t understood how to clear his mind, nor had he completely wanted the visions to stop in case someone else he cared about was harmed by Voldemort. His failure at mastering Occlumency meant that it had nearly been his and Sirius’s downfall.

“It occurs to me now,” continued Snape, “that while stubbornness may have played a significant role in your lack of progression with Occlumency, the greater part is that you have never been instructed how best to manage your emotions and mind.”

Harry shrugged. “I suppose so, sir,” he said quietly.

Snape paused, then said, “When is your mind at its most calm and clear state?”

Harry frowned. “What? Most calm… I don’t – ” He broke off, feeling his face flush as the answer to the question came to him.

“Potter?”

Embarrassed, Harry muttered his answer, but Snape clearly didn’t hear him, because he demanded Harry repeat himself.

“When I’m with Ginny,” Harry told his knees.

Snape said nothing for long enough that Harry chanced a glance at the professor. He was eyeing Harry in a very calculating manner. “What emotion were you feeling when you stopped the Dark Lord from possessing you?”

Harry instantly recalled the pain, the fear that filled him as he realized he was dying –

“I… I love you,” Ginny’s words echoed in his mind.

“Love,” whispered Harry. “It… it was love. And I didn’t stop him, sir, Ginny saved me.”

“She gave you what you needed to save yourself, Potter,” said Snape, an unreadable expression on his face. “Did you think specifically of her in that moment?”

“Yeah,” said Harry quietly. “Her and Sirius.”

“That is what you need to learn to harness, then,” Snape told him with a strangely neutral expression. “The Dark Lord does not understand or care for emotions such as love. He will never be able to enter your mind again if you can learn how to use that emotion as your shield against him.”

Harry considered this. “Do you really think I can learn how to do that, sir? I was rubbish at it last year, and there’s a lot more… how do I manage the ravaged mess in here?” he asked, pointing at his forehead.

“Your mind is not a ‘ravaged mess,’ as you so indelicately describe it,” said Snape evenly. “The Dark Lord had access to your mind for five hours, Potter.”

Harry snorted bitterly. “I know, sir, I was there for every last second of it.”

Snape actually pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked thoroughly consternated, something that was wholly unusual for the dour teacher. “You have been traumatized, Potter,” he finally stated. “The flashbacks and panic attacks are clear signs that your mind has struggled to cope with the experience you suffered while at the Dark Lord’s mercy. I described your mind to Lupin as that of a Muggle minefield. The land mines are hidden well, with no telling as to which step taken will trigger the bomb.”

“I know that, sir,” said Harry, trying not to sound sullen. “He told me.”

“What you fail to realize,” continued Snape as though he hadn’t heard Harry speak at all, “is that the surface of minefields are the innocuous sort, meaning you cannot see the damage from the surface. You remain very much the stubborn, reckless, recalcitrant Gryffindor you have been from the day you set foot in this castle.”

Harry frowned, trying to figure out if he was being insulted yet again or not.

“You have not changed, Potter,” said Snape, expression once again unreadable. “You are burdened and damaged, yes, but still wholly you.”

Harry looked away, uncertain what to say to this. Was he still himself? It certainly didn’t always feel like it. He shifted uncomfortably in the silence that enveloped the room. “Why –?”

“The assignment I am giving you as of now,” Snape cut him off, “is to use your emotions for Miss Weasley as your focus when attempting to clear your mind before you sleep. Five minutes each night.” He eyed Harry intensely. “You will practice the breathing technique I used with you this past Monday and focus on only Miss Weasley and the emotions you feel for her. You go straight to sleep after that. The house-elf monitoring your sleep will keep me updated as to whether or not you are completing your assignment. We will meet again in a fortnight at seven o’clock to check on your progress, understood?”

This was probably the strangest assignment Harry had ever been given. “Why are you – helping me?” he burst out, curiosity getting the better of him. “You hate me.”

Snape stared at him and he quickly added, “Sir.”

There was a moment of tense silence. “You admitted at the trial that your mother sacrified herself to save you,” Snape said slowly. “In the light of the Dark Lord’s obsession to see you dead at his hand, I expect you to do everything in your power to live up to that sacrifice.”

It was the closest they had come to that particular subject with each other. Harry didn’t know what to say, wasn’t certain he dared ask any of the burning questions he still had about Lily Potter. His thoughts were cut off when Snape abruptly rose.

“In the meantime, for drawing your wand on another student, your detention will consist of sorting out rotten flobberworms from good ones to use in Potions lessons.”

Harry was unable to contain his scowl. “Am I allowed gloves, sir?”

Snape actually smirked. “Not necessary, Potter. Come with me so you can get started.”

Inwardly groaning, Harry rose and followed Snape out of his office and over to a nearby room where a large container of flobberworms awaited him. Disgusting as it was, Harry knew he had little choice in the matter, so he rolled up his sleeves, grimaced to himself, and got to work as Snape settled down at a nearby desk with a stack of homework to grade.

Some things felt different in how Snape spoke to him now compared to the previous years, but clearly some things were meant to stay the same no matter what.



Sirius grimaced. “Flobberworms? Gross.”

Harry nodded at him through the small mirror Sirius held in his hand. “And no gloves, either.”

“But he also wants you thinking about Ginny every night before bed,” said Sirius, trying to keep his grin in check. Judging by the blush on Harry’s face, he hadn’t succeeded.

“Bloody bizarre, is what that is,” came Ron’s voice from out of sight. He stuck his head into view behind Harry and grimaced. “I don’t want to know what kind of thoughts are going on in your head, Harry. Ever.”

Harry’s face turned beet red and Sirius couldn’t contain a grin or his laughter at the sight.

“Being the subject of a daily assignment is clearly the highest form of flattery,” came Ginny’s voice, and her cheery face popped into view a moment later as she kissed Harry on a very pink cheek. “Anyway, we wanted to ask you about Dad’s raid at the Malfoy’s manor.”

Sirius sighed. “Yes, that. Arthur looked around as hard as he could, but there’s nothing there that could conceivably aid Malfoy in his task.”

Harry scowled unhappily. “Which leaves us back at square one,” he said.

Sirius nodded. “I’m thinking my next step is to question Mr. Borgin directly.”

“But what if he alerts Malfoy about you stopping by?” said Harry with a frown. “We don’t want to make him aware of the fact that we know what he’s up to.”

“I’ll have Kreacher spike his drink with Veritaserum and Obliviate him afterwards,” said Sirius. “Easy.”

“Memory charms can be broken through,” said Harry. “That’s how Voldemort was able to learn about Crouch Jr. still being alive.”

“I do this right, and no one suspects a thing,” said Sirius firmly.

“He seems to be a really paranoid man, though,” said Ron with a frown as he crowded into view, as well. “Are you sure Kreacher could do it and not get caught?”

“Yes,” said Sirius firmly. “Wizards are so certain of their dominance over house elves that they frequently underestimate just how powerful their magic is.” He thought of Kreacher’s tale, of being left for dead but escaping the powerful enchantments Voldemort had doubtlessly placed over that cave.

“Sirius?” questioned Harry softly.

“Trust me,” said Sirius quickly, “if anyone can make this happen, it’s Kreacher. I’ll have him track Borgin’s movements for a few days to identify the best time to dose and question him. Any luck on your end with Malfoy?”

“We check the map whenever we can,” said Ginny quickly, “but so far, nothing. He’s either wandering aimlessly, in his common room, or in the library in the evenings.”

“Let me know if that changes,” said Sirius firmly, and the four teenagers nodded their understanding.

Sirius hadn’t had as much to do with Harry back at Hogwarts, but he had been finding ways to be busy. Rather than answering his many missives by owl, he started heading into the various businesses and even Gringotts to see to matters personally. There was also the matter of the research he’d been doing which had included a couple of horribly public visits to the Ministry of Magic, but it would be some time before he had enough of the pieces in place to act. As for what remained of the Black family, his dear aunt Druella had immediately given him the cold shoulder when he tried to visit, but he had dinner with his cousin Andromeda to look forward to, so he wasn’t too put-off by his aunt’s reaction.

The years had been much kinder to Andy than they had to her sister Bellatrix. Even though the two looked remarkably alike, Andy’s features were much less severe, her hair a smooth light brown as opposed to the heavy dark locks of her sister.

“How’s Harry?” she asked that evening when Sirius came over for dinner.

“Doing well,” answered Sirius. “Are you still all right with coming to visit us Christmas Eve?”

“I want to get to know Harry,” said Andy warmly. “Nymphadora speaks highly of him.”

“Mum, how many times must I ask you not to call me that?” shouted Tonks from the living room. Andy sighed and rolled her eyes.

“It is your name, daughter of mine,” she returned. “I long for the day you accept it.”

“Remus has taken to calling her Dora,” offered Sirius.

“How is he?” asked Andy a bit stiffly. Sirius knew she was struggling with her ingrown bias against werewolves, but was trying to step back and allow her daughter the freedom to who whoever she wanted. Sirius knew it had been hard on her to be disowned for loving a Muggleborn, and that she did not want the same for her daughter.

“Keeping busy,” sighed Sirius. “He’s made some headway with the werewolves, but not as much as we had hoped for by this point.”

“Greyback makes it hard to see there’s potentially a better way,” said Tonks, walking into the kitchen with a scowl. “He’s had years to manipulate the way the others in the packs think. ‘Course, the Ministry’s regulations haven’t helped much, either.”

“Umbitch’s fault, you know,” said Sirius gravely. “I’ve started petitioning for the Wizengamot to reconsider every law she’s pushed through in light of her actions over the past year.”

“Good,” said Ted Tonks firmly from the kitchen table, where he’d been reading the Evening Prophet. “Isolation and division will not help us in these dark times. You know, Muggles have a long history of dividing their own with disastrous results. The systemic slavery of the African peoples, concentration camps for the Jewish…” He trailed off and shook his head. “We need to focus on unity. It’s the only way out of this mess.”

“That’s what I’m hoping to push for,” said Sirius, nodding at Ted. “I’ve got Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden on my side already, and they’re working with both myself and Augusta Longbottom to convince others. Dumbledore says he’ll call for a special session as soon as we get enough members of the Wizengamot on our side.”

“What about Scrimgeour?” asked Tonks.

“He’s not opposed to reviewing her legislation, but his attention is on other things,” sighed Sirius.

“Like arresting that bloke, Stan Shunpike,” said Ted darkly.

“The problem,” said Tonks, “is that You-Know-Who and his followers got too much of a headstart on their plans before they were fully found out. We’re struggling to do more than react to each crisis as it hits.”

“Are you sure Severus can’t give the Order more to work with?” asked Ted.

Sirius heaved a great sigh at the question. “Snape’s position… we can’t afford to jeopardize it in any way.”

Tonks eyed him. “Is there something you know that we don’t?” she asked carefully.

That, Sirius thought, was rather a loaded question. Draco’s mission, Snape’s role, Dumbledore’s inevitable death, the Horcruxes…

“I need you to trust me,” Sirius finally offered. “The long game we’re playing right now…” He trailed off and shook his head.

An uncomfortable silence fell on the small group.

“The trouble with long games,” said Ted at length, “is the amount of sacrifices made along the way.”

“Don’t think I’m happy with it,” said Sirius tightly. “If I hadn’t stumbled onto a key piece of the puzzle, I wouldn’t even know the long game, myself.” He shook his head. “I never should’ve said anything, I’ve gone and ruined the mood.”

“Nonsense,” said Andy firmly. “Just tell me this: will we win?”

Sirius looked long and hard at his cousin, taking in the exhaustion, the concern, and the tiny flicker of hope.

He thought of Dumbledore’s mission to find out as much as possible about the remaining Horcruxes, of the lessons Harry had yet to have, of what truly lay before them.

Could they really do it? Was it possible to win once and for all?

The real question, however, was did he trust that Harry could do all that was being asked of him? Did he trust Harry?

Sirius smiled.

“Yes,” he answered. “We will.”

And for the first time, he believed it.



Hermione was checking Harry’s latest Defense Against the Dark Arts assignment when Dean approached Harry. She had witnessed his apology to Ginny the previous evening, but was curious to see what he’d say to her best friend.

“Harry, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Hermione watched as Harry looked up, appearing slightly startled. “Er, sure,” he said, sounding uncertain.

“Best do it here, Dean,” said Hermione as she resumed looking over Harry’s essay. “Public places are the best locations for uncomfortable conversations, after all.”

“Yeah, Ginny made that clear,” sighed Dean.

“You spoke to Ginny?” asked Harry in surprise.

Hermione took a peek at Harry and Dean to see Harry appeared wary, and Dean looked even more uncomfortable than he had the previous evening.

“Last night, yeah,” said Dean. “Listen, I’m going to get right to the point. I’ve been an arse, and I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” said Harry as Ron came downstairs with a new bottle of ink and spotted them, eyes narrowing.

“It doesn’t take a genius to see how happy you two are together,” Dean continued as Ron approached, eyes fixed on Harry. Hermione looked at Harry, as well, taking in the neutral expression on his face and feeling silently grateful that Danielle and Emily had successfully dragged Ginny away to study in the library. “It’d be stupid of me to try and stand in the way of that.”

“Come to your senses, have you?” said Ron tightly as he dropped into the chair next to Harry’s.

Hermione watched as Dean nodded, looking ashamed. “It was wrong of me to argue about who your sister should or shouldn’t date, Ron,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry about that.”

Ron nodded stiffly.

Then Harry stood up.

Hermione abandoned the essay completely, curious to see what Harry would do now. He’d never needed much of an apology from Ron before when he acted foolishly, but then, Ron was his best mate. She watched as he faced Dean, paused, and then offered his hand.

“We’re good, you and I,” he said, and a grateful look spread across Dean’s face as he took Harry’s hand.

Hermione smiled.

“Just don’t be a prat again, and we’re good, as well,” said Ron, rising as well to shake Dean’s hand.

“You have my word,” said Dean, smiling in relief.

Hermione returned to Harry’s essay, pleased by Harry and Ron’s easy forgiveness. The world needed more of that in these dark times.



“Explain the trigger to me.”

Harry heaved a sigh. “He said almost exactly the same thing Umbridge said at the trial,” he answered quietly.

Madam Pomfrey’s eyebrows shot up before an enraged expression briefly crossed her face. “I do recall that incident quite clearly,” she said. “When did Professor Snape intervene?”

“Less than a minute later,” said Harry. “He sent Malfoy away and then, well…”

“Talked you through the calming technique to stop your panic attack,” finished Madam Pomfrey. Harry nodded.

A few more questions, and Harry was allowed to leave the hospital wing. Ginny was waiting outside for him. “How’d it go?” she asked as they set off down the corridor.

“Fine,” said Harry. “She said I actually started getting a bit more sleep Saturday after I began Snape’s assignment.”

That had been interesting to explain when he’d returned to the common room at half-past eleven Saturday night. Hermione had already gone to bed, but Ginny had apparently sneaked into Harry’s dormitory to check if he was there yet, and had then camped out in her favorite chair in the common room to wait for his return from the detention with Snape.

“It’s probably the best assignment you’ve ever had,” said Ginny, grinning. “Knowing that you’re thinking of nothing but me for five minutes is doing wonders for my personal ego.”

Harry chuckled, though his face felt warm. “Happy to help, I suppose.”

Ginny laughed lightly and took Harry’s hand. “Got the map?” she asked.

It had been a few days since they had last checked to see if Malfoy was doing anything unusual. Harry nodded, and they ducked into an unused classroom on the fifth floor, making sure to lock the door behind them. Harry added an extra spell for good measure:

“Muffliato!”

“What ’s that do?” asked Ginny.

“Found it last night in the Prince’s book,” said Harry. “It fills the ears of anyone nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing so people can’t hear what you’re saying.”

“Brilliant!” said Ginny as Harry pulled out the map and activated it. They settled down on a desk and bent in close, looking carefully over the map to see if they could find Malfoy, but he didn’t seem to be anywhere.

“That’s suspicious, isn’t it?” said Ginny darkly. “Not being able to see him at all.”

“Definitely strange,” agreed Harry, still scanning the map carefully. “I can’t see Crabbe or Goyle, either, can you?”

Ginny shook her head. “Are there any places this map doesn’t show?”

“Not that I can think of,” said Harry, frowning as he thought the question over. “And with tightened security everywhere, sneaking out through one of the passages would be much more difficult these days. If he even knows about any of those passages, that is.”

Ginny sighed. “What we need is more time to look, and none of us has got that,” she said.

It was true. Between their immense school workloads, Ron and Hermione’s prefect duties, and Quidditch practice, there wasn’t a lot of time to try and track down Malfoy’s whereabouts. Deciding to give up for the evening, they dropped the enchantments protecting the classroom and made their way back to Gryffindor tower to work on more homework.

That night, Harry did as he’d done the past two nights and settled himself on his bed for his five minutes of meditation. He’d felt rather awkward the first night, especially after the light teasing Ginny had given him for this unusual assignment, but he was starting to find the routine calming as nothing had been for him before.

And really, spending five minutes thinking about the way Ginny made him feel? It was probably the most enjoyable assignment he’d ever been given, which was especially bizarre given the source of said assignment.

Harry closed his eyes and started first with mentally talking himself through a breath in to a count of four, holding it for a count of four, and then releasing the breath on a count of four. He did this a few times to settle into the rhythm before turning his thoughts to Ginny.

He had so many happy memories to draw from now, an entire summer of wild freedom to be a teenager in love, away from the responsibilities that awaited him. Ginny had long been a part of his life, but she had quickly and easily become such an integral part of it he couldn’t imagine life without her to anchor him when the perilous reality of his life threatened to overwhelm him.

Ginny was fiercely determined to see Harry happy no matter what. Never having had that before coming to Hogwarts, the concept of being happy had been almost foreign to him. He had tried to seize what little moments of happiness he could as a child, but he hadn’t really understood what it meant to be happy before Ron and Hermione. More than that, he hadn’t known joy until getting together with Ginny.

He knew joy now. And happiness. Even love, something that he had heard of but never understood.

And so he thought of sunlit days playing two-a-side Quidditch, Ginny dragging him outside to sit in the orchard and just be when he became overwhelmed, discussing her Charms and Transfiguration summer homework, snogging under the trees in the orchard…

Well, maybe a little less of those particular thoughts.

Five minutes of meditation later, Harry settled down in bed, ready to fall asleep. It wasn’t long before he fell into a peaceful slumber.



Ron shifted nervously from foot to foot. He’d been thinking long and hard about what his first move ought to be. The book Bill had given him discussed birthday gifts, and Ron had struggled to decide what to get this year.

That’s why he’d always gone for a box of chocolates in years past. Simple presents like that were the easiest.

Trouble was, Ron didn’t want easy anymore.

Hermione deserved better than that from him.

“She’ll like what you picked out,” Harry had reassured him the day before when he’d accompanied Ron down to the kitchens to ask Dobby about procuring wrapping paper, something the small elf had been more than eager to fetch for them.

“Harry Potter’s Wheezy is getting a present for Miss Granger, he is so kind and thoughtful…”

Ron had felt very hot around the collar and ignored the grin on Harry’s face.

“Good morning, Ron!” called Hermione as she reached the common room, her bag filled with many books as per usual.

“Happy Birthday!” said Ron quickly, thrusting out his present, wrapped in the red and gold wrapping paper Dobby had procured for him.

“Oh, thank you!” Hermione beamed, dropping her bag to the ground with a loud ‘thunk’ and taking the package, quickly unwrapping it to see a rectangular box inside. “What is it?” she asked. “Chocolates?”

“Just – go on and see,” said Ron, feeling his face warm.

Smiling uncertainly, Hermione did just that. “Oh, you bought more of my favorite quills!” she exclaimed happily. “How did you know I needed more? I completely forgot to ask your mother to purchase more at Diagon Alley last month, and I wasn’t eager to use the mail order service for Flourish and Blotts.”

Ron shrugged. “I notice things sometimes,” he said, then added, “I’m glad you like them.”

Hermione’s expression was almost radiant as she looked up at Ron. “Thank you, Ron,” she said in a very sincere voice. “I can tell you put a lot of thought into this.” She set the box down on top of her bag and threw her arms around Ron, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back, quickly thinking over what he ought to say in return.

“It’s the least I could do for the most important girl in my life.”

Wait.

Did he really just say that?

Hermione pulled back, looking startled. “Ron?”

He needed to come up with something to ease the awkward moment, and quickly at that!

“Will you go to Hogsmeade with me next month?”

Had he actually said that? Did Hermione understand him? What if he’d said it too quickly, or what if she said no?

Hermione was pink in the cheeks, and Ron couldn’t help but find it adorable. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’d – I’d like that, very much.”

Grinning joyfully, Ron helped Hermione pick up her bag, and they set off for the Great Hall.

Ron thought about holding Hermione’s hand, but didn’t think he should go that far just yet.

“Happy Birthday, Hermione!” Ginny called when they entered. She was sitting with Harry and Neville, and waved Ron and Hermione over.

“Thank you,” said Hermione happily as she sat down next to Ginny, Ron slipping into the seat on her other side. A small pile of presents lay on the table.

“Food first, then presents,” said Ginny firmly. “Wait, where’s Ron’s present?”

“Oh, he already gave it to me!” said Hermione cheerfully. “He noticed I was on my last quill and bought me new ones.”

Ginny blinked and looked over at Ron. “You noticed something outside of Quidditch?”

“Shut it, Ginny,” snapped Ron, ears feeling warm.

“It was a very thoughtful gift,” Hermione defended him at once. “Did my parents’ present already come?”

“Right here,” said Harry, tapping a brown package tied with string. “Arrived about two minutes before you did.”

“Anyway, eat!” cut in Ginny impatiently. “We don’t have the time to just banter when there’s presents to be had!”

Laughing, Ron immediately set about loading up his plate. As he ate, he couldn’t help but cast surreptitious looks in Hermione’s direction, mind replaying what had happened up in the common room.

He’d actually asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him! And more than that, she had said yes!

Hermione looked up and met his eyes. She smiled at him, and it was different from all the other smiles she’d ever given him.

Ron wondered if he could possibly cast the best Patronus ever in that moment.

When their small group had finished eating, which included Luna drifting over and settling down next to Neville with a present, as well, Hermione dug into her presents. Ron barely remembered what any of the other gifts were because Hermione was kind and thanked everyone, but none as enthusiastically as she had thanked Ron. Thinking of the smile on her face and the way she had hugged him served to sustain him all the way through an otherwise difficult day.

It was only when he collapsed in bed that night that panic set in. How was he to handle taking Hermione to Hogsmeade on a date?
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