Out of Time

Chapter 23

"Do you have the Felix Felicis?" is what she says instead.

Ron flashes a quick glimpse of it held tight in his palm. "And why do we need it so badly, again?"

One sarcastic eyebrow arches at her and Hermione has a stab of irritation at the blatant prompt. She yanks him by the sleeve into a corner, wishing the Gryffindor common room had the same sorts of alcoves the Slytherin dungeons have. Useful, those.

They take adjoining cushions on the closest sofa and Hermione muffles their surroundings. Ginny's watching them intently from the far side of the room, but she doesn't approach. Ron uncorks the Felix after a quick glance around. Hermione flaps a hand at him.

"No, not yet. Not until we're sure it's tonight. Shouldn't waste it."

As he shoves the cork back down, Ron's mouth twists at one end, just a smidge. "And how will we know, eh? The party should keep us all nice and oblivious while things go to hell out there. Isn't that your plan?"

She wants to shake him.

"While Harry's out there?"

"McGonagall has an eye out for when Harry and Dumbledore get back. She said she'll make sure he gets back here."

"And you think Harry's just going to... let himself be led to bed like a good little boy, while they're all fighting?"

Now, she wants to scream. She resists, but it's a struggle.

"What do you want us to do? We have no idea where they'll be when they get back. We don't know when it'll be. We can't wander around the whole castle at random, and he has the cloak with him."

"Once, you'd have wandered around. You'd have cared more about finding Harry than sticking to the sofa in here." Ron leans back into the cushion, almost sulking. "But now, you won't, because you 'promised him' -"

"Get over it, Ron. We can't help out there. We have no idea what they're going to try and do, we won't know where something's going to happen, Harry could arrive back anywhere and at any time - if either of those things even happens tonight!"

"You do know where something's going to happen though, don't you? He told you."

Hermione doesn't dignify this with an answer, but her persistent chewing on the inside of her cheek probably gives her away.

"So how does he know?"

It shouldn't be this hard to say it and Ron calls her out. "'Mione, when did you stop trusting me?"

"It's not that I don't trust you -" she starts, affronted but he's quicker than she anticipated.

"Then what else is it? I can only think of one thing."

The challenge in his stare takes her breath away. She's not accustomed to Ron being so direct. In fact, this is the first time they've been alone (if this could be counted as 'alone') since the... faulty knob incident. Hermione has battened that down so deep in her mind that it hasn't popped up lately - the incident itself or Lavender's many insinuations about her presence there. Hermione fights the unpleasant reminders sprung by their relative proximity sharing this sofa.

Meanwhile, Ron's assertiveness is absolute.

"The only thing that would make you hold something back like this is if you're embarrassed about it. And we all know you're shagging Malfoy already. So the only other thing I can think of, of how he knows about this attack and how you don't want to tell me how, is that you're embarrassed that you were wrong. He's a fucking Death Eater, isn't he? Isn't he?"