| Part Eight |
It was the night before Hermione's birthday, and Harry had grown increasingly nervous around her. He must have been daft to have agreed to study with her tonight.
Only someone had to keep her from throttling Ron.
Hermione was getting twitchier by the second, as she corrected the first draft of her Transfigurations essay. The scratches of her quill against the parchment were getting louder, and her left hand was tugging dangerously hard on a lock of her hair. Her face was screwed up in thought.
"... And he's always celebrated with us!"Hermione exclaimed suddenly, as though continuing an argument already underway. "I mean, ever since Second Year! He helped you throw me that big party last year, when I turned seventeen. I can't believe he would just forget!"
Madam Pince glared daggers at their table, seeming shocked that the library's best patron in years would disrespect the quiet so egregiously.
Harry glanced nervously at the librarian, and spoke softly when he replied.
"Ron has a lot on his mind, this year, Hermione," he said soothingly. "I know you're as important to him as ever, probably more."
"Then why hasn't he remembered?"
Harry let out a long sigh. It was a good question.
"I don't know. It doesn't seem like him to forget. He must be under a lot more stress than even we realise."
Hermione raked her fingers through her hair, leaving an inky streak of black at her temple.
"Why didn't you remind him, then?" she asked him quietly.
Harry looked her in the eye. "Is that how you'd want him to remember?"
Hermione's shoulders slumped in defeat.
"No," she admitted. "It's only ... oh, forget it."
"What?"
"No. You'll laugh."
"I won't."
"You will."
Harry noticed the tiny twitch of a smile teasing at one corner of her mouth, and tried again.
"I promise I won't, if I have to iron my hands to stop myself."
Hermione glared at him. "There's no need to make crude jokes. House Elves have feelings too, and it's really awful that -"
Harry cut her off before she could get any momentum going. "Sorry, you're right. Shh," he added, as Hermione's rising tone of voice had caught the attention of Madam Pince once again.
Hermione caught the librarian's expression, and quieted down. "Alright," she said finally. "But you promised."
When he nodded sincerely, she passed her left hand over her eyes and leaned closer to speak confidentially.
"Look, I know I'm usually very levelheaded and everything, but I do have this one little daydream. You see, I'd like him to get me a present. There's a particular one I have in mind. And if he did, well, I could see myself getting swept up in the moment. Maybe things, you know, would progress from there."
Her words came out so quickly that Harry had the impression she was trying to say them all before she thought better of it. When she'd finished speaking, she blushed and ducked her head, which was fortunate because Harry was biting down hard on the inside of his cheek, until tears came to his eyes, trying to keep his promise.
When he found his voice at last, he innocently enquired, "What's the present?"
Hermione fixed her friend with a glare. "You are still bound to your promise not to laugh."
"Yes, alright, I promised already, now what is it?"
"Well, you know I'm learning Spanish? For that Auror exchange in Chile I want to do in a few years?"
Harry nodded.
"The thing is, I want to learn about more than the language and what the Aurors there do. I've been in the wizarding world so long, I've lost touch with how Muggles see things. You know, how my parents see things. So I visited the local library when I went home after the battle last summer. I found out about this Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda. His poetry was so powerful that he had to flee his country and live in Italy for years before he could come home again. His writings have been translated into almost every language. I keep thinking, if I could learn enough Spanish, I'd want to read his work in the original. But I don't know that I'll ever get there.
"Anyway, in my fantasy, Ron gives me his most famous book, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Don't laugh! I know it's not at all Ron's style, but it's ... something I'd really like to get from him."
Harry chomped now on the inside of the other cheek. Although it was true that he could never imagine Ron coming up with such a gift on his own, that wasn't the reason for his amusement. What Hermione didn't know was that she was playing directly into Harry's plan.
"So you really don't think Ron will remember your birthday by tomorrow?"
"No, why?" Hermione's eyes were masked in defeat.
Harry leaned his chin in his hands, pretending to sigh in sympathetic disappointment. "You're right, Hermione. I don't think he will, either. I'm sorry."
***
It was the night before the new Gryffindor Quidditch side would be announced, and Ginny was really starting to worry about her brother. She had agreed to help him organise the Quidditch shed, mostly to keep an eye on him.
Someone had to keep Hermione from throttling him.
Ron's definition of organisation was becoming looser every moment, as he haphazardly stacked a pile of Beaters' bats in a corner. He was starting to throw them into place rather hard, in fact, and the look on his face made it evident that placing the bats wasn't the first thought it his mind.
"... And she didn't have any trouble at all when I had the party last year," burst Ron without warning, seeming to carry on a tirade he'd already been rehearsing in his mind. "She was even there, and had fun if I remember. Same with the parties Wood and Angelina threw before that. So what's the problem now?"
The Beaters' bats tumbled from their precarious pile, scattering across the floor.
Ginny looked sadly at the mess, and equally sadly at her brother.
"Hermione really wants this to be a good year, you know?" she said softly. "I'm sure she wants everyone to have fun, same as you do."
"Then what is her problem?"
Ginny let her shoulders slump. She'd promised Harry she wouldn't remind Ron about Hermione's birthday, so it was very hard to answer Ron's question.
"I'm sure she must have a good reason for being upset," murmured Ginny noncommittally.
Ron dragged his fingers through his hair, making it stand up exactly like Harry's.
"Why don't you tell me what it is?" he asked her quietly.
Ginny looked him in the eye. "Because I promised Harry I wouldn't," she confessed.
Ron pounded his hand angrily against the wall of the shed, making it shudder. Ginny, accustomed to the Weasley temper, didn't even flinch.
"What is with you two?" he demanded.
Ginny squared her shoulders and glared defiantly at her brother.
"If Hermione's so important to you, you should be able to work it out," she stated bluntly, arms crossed across her chest.
"Fine," breathed Ron, looking hurt. "I only wanted ... oh, never mind."
"You wanted ...?"
"Forget it. You'll make fun of me."
"I won't."
"You will."
Ginny spotted the dreamy expression passing over Ron's eyes, and pressed on.
"If I even consider making fun of you, may I be banned from Quidditch for life."
Ron looked stricken. "Ginny, don't even joke about that! We need you on the side!"
Ginny interrupted quickly before Ron could panic. "It's alright Ron, I was only teasing. Anyway, you'd be fine without me. That new Chaser is going to be excellent."
"The new Beater's scary, though. I don't know what possessed me to let her fly around with a bat in her hands."
Ginny giggled. "I think she fancies you. That's why she was trying so hard."
Ron looked slightly panicked at the idea, and Ginny understood. One assertive woman was more than he could handle at the moment, clearly.
Ron took a deep breath, and examined Ginny's sincerely sympathetic expression, and nodded. He leaned back against the wall of the shed, and tipped his eyes toward the ceiling.
"I bought Hermione a present, early in the summer, but haven't had the nerve to give it to her. I have this great idea of getting her alone, and giving it to her. And then, you know, maybe she gets swept up in the moment, and things go on from there."
His ears had turned magenta, and he appeared to be examining a miniscule knot in the wall. Ginny swallowed hard and nodded silently, grateful Ron wasn't scrutinising her expression at the moment. She didn't trust herself to speak. She didn't fancy the idea of giving up Quidditch forever.
"What is the present?" she asked, when she had finally got control of herself.
Ron fixed his sister with a glare. "You are still bound to your promise."
"Yes, alright, I promised already, now what is it?"
"Well, you know Hermione's learning Spanish? For that Auror exchange in Chile she wants to do after we finish school?"
Ginny nodded.
"And you remember, after Dad got that, um, bicycle last summer, how he dragged me to a Muggle bookshop to look for a repair manual?" He didn't wait for her nod this time before continuing. "I wandered off and found the foreign language section. There's this poet from Chile, Pablo somebody. I hear he�s famous for his love sonnets.
"Anyway, they had this collection, 100 Love Sonnets, and it has the poems in both Spanish and English, so Hermione can try and read them the way they were written, but can also get some help understanding them. I know it's a little much, being love poems and all, but ... I don't know, maybe she'd like it."
Ginny's mouth nearly fell open. She would have to tell Harry that they would no longer be needing their plan.
"Ron, I think your present might go a long way toward making Hermione happy about that party tomorrow," she said carefully.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his face full of worry. "Why would it?"
Ginny buried her face in her hands, breathing deeply against the frustration. "Ron, for Merlin's sake, I swear if you were any thicker you'd get stuck."