I Learned Your Pulse

"He comes, and he kills them."

"You shouldn't have done it, Hermione."

"It hurt nobody."

"The only thing that hurt from Snape's book was a spell. The rest was fine, and you called him being better than you at potions evil."

"Harry! I did not!"

"You did -"

"Drop it, mate," Ron advised.

Hermione's chest bubbled with relief. Ron had taken no part in the argument, and hadn't spoken to her, but he'd spoken to a person she was having an argument with in her favor. A woman's imagination is flighty; hers jumped from 'back to acquaintances!' to 'friends again!' to 'back together!' and she could do nothing to stop it. She mentally scolded herself for being so immature as to think it'd be that easy. It'd probably take weeks, but she refused to believe in months - she had to have some hope. She'd have thanked him, but their social situation was still impermanent (maybe he was just tired of hearing them fight and wanted some peace and quiet) and she was too relieved to speak anyway.

Harry folded his lips tightly, but was silent.

The D.A.D.A. classroom was lit as if to please the sunshine itself; it was bright, cheery, and gave the room a warm and comfortable feel. Hermione felt like smiling in the room, filled with the pleasant buzz of the Hufflepuff conversations they'd have to share with the rest of the year - not that they minded in the least. She saw Ginny heading to Herbology out the window that shone on the teacher's desk and saw Harry's tight lips slip to form a dreamy grin. she laughed and whopped him over the head with her textbook. He flinched and gave her a confused look.

"No daydreaming about your best friend's sister," she said breezily, in an almost Luna-like fashion.

"I can't dream about my girlfriend?" said Harry, understanding, grinning broadly, with a tone of false incredulity.

Ron, beside him, laughed with Hermione, and the awkward silence following was almsot non-existent. But not because they got over it; because a third-year burst through the door and called, "Head Girl! Miss Granger!"

"What is it?" she asked kindly.

The third year, who'd seemed slightly frightened but sure of her reaching Hermione, now looked petrified. "Um... Miss Granger -"

"You can call me Hermione," she said, her tone still easy and friendly, open - the third year visibly relaxed.

"Right. Well, Her-mi-on-e," she said, saying the name slowly to make sure she was allowed to say it at all, "my friend Haila was daydreaming and said... things. Things the Headmaster says you shoud deal with," she explained, seeing how Hermione's expression hadn't changed.

It changed when she reached the word 'Headmaster'. She lost the look of honesty and seriousness creased her forehead. "Take me to her," she said.

She turned to Harry. "You'll explain?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Lead the way," she told the girl.

The girl wore an expression mirroring Hermione's as she walked out of the classroom. Murmurs followed them, confused murmurs of her classmates, but they were shut out behind the great doors that closed behind the two.

"What's your name?" asked Hermione as they walked.

"Fay," the girl answered.

"Alright. Fay, what kind of things was she saying?"

The girl had her back turned to her as they walked, but turned around and walked slower, letting Hermione see the fear in her eyes. "Things," she said simply, turning around again and speeding up.