“beyond wandpoint” 063 by gingerbred

[beyondwandpoint]

“11 11c Tuesday - Harry Gets a Bit of Clue”

Harry, Ginny, Seamus, Neville, the Gryffindor Quidditch team (Ritchie Coote, Jimmy Peakes, Demelza Robins, Jack Sloper, Fay Dunbar, mentioned: Dean, Ron) Andrew Kirke, Georgina Smith, mentioned: Hermione and Severus, Draco

In which 'chuffed' means 'pleased' and isn't used sarcastically. For once.

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Originally Published: 2018-03-07 on AO3
Chapter: 063

Pairing: Hermione Granger / Severus Snape
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

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Harry's Tempus wakes him from a series of strange dreams. It began with quite the usual fare, him stood there in front of the whole Potions class in nothing but his pants without the required number of inches on... He can't even remember. It might have been the more esoteric uses for Flobberworms. That sounds about right.

That wasn't the odd bit. He's had that one before.

Lately in the dream, his pants are revealed to be green, and more teasing ensues; he blames Luna's father and that damn Quibbler interview for that. But not Luna. She'd meant well enough setting it up for him. He tries to keep that straight in his mind.

Some days he succeeds.

Harry may also have asked Neville for a Charm a couple of weeks ago to change the colour of all his pants red, just to be on the safe side. Strangely, McGonagall hadn't seen the need to cover that in Transfigurations. Once he took inventory, he'd had to acknowledge: a surprising number had actually been green. Neville's a mate, he didn't even crack a smile, and he hadn't told any of the others. Harry knows that for sure, as he hasn't been mocked mercilessly, and not a one of the others wouldn't have, had they known.

It still didn't stop the random attacks in the hallways when his wonderful schoolmates kept turning bits of his uniform green, but usually 'Mione sorted that for him, or sometimes Luna or Gin, when she wasn't hexing him herself that is, and on balance it was less embarrassing than asking any of them to Charm his pants by far. Honestly, he should probably just learn the Charm himself, but their concern, their care is kind of... comforting.

No, the odd bit of his dream was Snape had turned to 'Mione and asked her how many points he should take for it, and she suggested detention instead. During the Slytherin Gryffindor Quidditch match of course. With Filch. Cleaning the Grand Staircase with a Muggle toothbrush. With integrated gum massagers. Snape had seemed dead chuffed at the idea. The detention, not the gum massagers. Harry's pretty sure he wouldn't know what those are. When Harry had inevitably protested, she told him his priorities needed sorting. His priorities.

Although, on reflection, he could see where she might think that.

Not that she's right...

Malfoy had offered to push him down the stairwell while he was at it. Ron seemed to think he had his back, at least as long as the Ministry or his family's safety wasn't remotely involved, and promised not to deploy his Dirty Draught, or whatever. Unfortunately, his Arresto Whatsit wasn't going to be sufficient to catch Harry, mostly because it wasn't even a spell, as 'Mione was happy to explain. In graphic and excruciatingly technical detail. Ron supplied the 'splat' and crunching noises she couldn't or wouldn't produce. It was quite... colourful.

One of the interesting things about dreams being he knew 'Mione had used all sorts of physics terms and thrown maths at him he hadn't begun to comprehend, but it had all sounded perfectly plausible in the dream and now he doesn't remember a word of it. Beyond a brief discussion of 'terminal velocity', that is, that sounded more grim than anything Trelawney had thrown at him in years, not that he remembered what that was supposed to have meant either.


No, that was all less odd, except maybe Ron and Hermione working together for once, than Snape asking her opinion. He doesn't even call on her when she raises her hand. And her hand hadn't even been raised. That was very odd. Both aspects actually. Her hand is almost permanently raised.

Ron had joked once that some of the muscles in her arm must be too short and she's physically incapable of putting it down without tearing something. But, he'd added, gilding the lily, she wouldn't damage anything of importance as it wasn't as if she needed her arm to play Quidditch anyway. 'Mione may have stomped off at the last bit. Harry's sort of stopped keeping track.


So Harry protested that she couldn't do that, give him detention, that is, and Snape had said...

Absolutely nothing that made any sense whatsoever.

No, that was when it became ridiculous, and Harry really wasn't enjoying his dream anymore. Not that he'd enjoyed it before, but he reached the point where he really needed to wake up, and he was only too happy when he was saved by the Tempus.


As he slowly comes to, shaking off what remains of the dream with the woolliness in his head, and yesterday's events come crashing back to mind, he realises with a sinking feeling that all the strangest bits were very real.


'My wife can do as she bloody well pleases...'


Merlin's beard.

With far less enthusiasm for his day than he had a mere two minutes ago, he forces himself out of bed.

An even worse thought strikes him: he has Potions today.

Then: They have Potions today.

Right after double Transfigurations. And he'd already had to use a Langlock on Ron in class yesterday, and that was before they knew Snape had...

That is, Hermione had...


Bloody hell.

Harry has a moment he's not too proud of when he sort of hopes Ron will stay in the Infirmary at least until lunch and miss the class. He's not sure there's a Body-Bind strong enough to sort this otherwise. A Langlock won't be of much help if Ron's gone crimson with rage and is gesticulating madly. And probably rudely. Merlin knows, he'd learnt plenty of those from Fred and George. Ron wasn't at a loss for a gesture to express much of anything these days.

Honestly, it's not a bad thought, wishing Ron were absent, even if it superficially appears less than kind. They haven't got double Potions until Thursday, by then Ron might have had a chance to get over the initial shock and come to terms with how he was going to cope with... it. Or Harry could brush up on his Body-Binds.

It's not like Harry is hoping he's injured or anything.

And just think of the points it'll cost them...

Harry runs both hands through his hair just considering it. It's definitely a two handed mussing kind of a problem. Merlin, yesterday had been a disaster.


It's unusually quiet in their room, and sort of less... smelly than usual. Harry suspects Ron's dirty socks are generally to blame for that. There's only so much an elf can do about it.

That's not quite true, but it requires the knowledge or desire to make arrangements to sort it, and none of the boys had.

While Harry isn't wrong about the sordid socks, he may be overlooking the preponderance of worn Quidditch gear floating about the room, figuratively, in part because plenty of it's his, which is easily recognised by the Muggle-raised badge on those items. Ron and Dean are both on the team with him this year, as Keeper and Chaser respectively, and Seamus had joined sixth year Jack Sloper as a reserve Beater. Dean's stuff, apparently erroneously, has a Muggle-born badge on it. Harry just can't imagine how Seamus and Ron ever tell their things apart without such useful aids. It probably helps that the Keeper's uniform is different to the others.

After practice, so only three times a week or so, fine, or maybe five in the week or two or just maybe three leading up to a match, their dirty stuff tends to completely take over the room, and there's very little of the floor left to see. Honestly, Neville must have the patience of a saint to put up with them.

On the other hand, the kit he wore when he helped out from time to time in the greenhouses has the distinctly pungent aroma of Dynamic Dragons' Dung about it, so he's probably in no position to complain about the stench. Or dirt. Still, it's surprising how well the Quidditch uniforms give the dung a run for its Sickle. Although he tends not to leave his things lying on the ground, so there's that.

Ron and Dean never made it back last night, and Neville had gone down to breakfast early, saying something about how he needed to speak to Sprout about some project or another of his. Seamus is prodding Harry to get moving, 'get a wriggle on', and he drags himself into the showers trying to find the strength to face the day.

---

It's not long before Seamus and Harry are making their way together down to the Great Hall to get something to eat. Seamus is back to repeating his incredulity at yesterday's news, interspersed with mutterings of outrage at Ron's sneaky Pastilles attack. He's on a seemingly never-ending loop.

Harry's mostly ignoring him.

That's going surprisingly well, really. He just grunts at intervals, and it seems interactive enough. Truthfully, it's a technique he's had plenty of opportunities to practise and nearly perfect with Hermione and Ron lately, generally when one complains about the other. It's becoming his go to response. Anyway, Seamus doesn't seem to have noticed Harry's inattention.

Given Ron was the one who spent the night in the Infirmary, Harry's not even sure if Seamus' complaints are fair, but Harry had missed the whole thing and really can't say. Plus it seems a little like Seamus wouldn't have miscast that badly had he not been chundering rather violently while doing so, and whose fault was that? Right. But those are also much the same excuses he applies to Ron inadvertently putting Dean in the Infirmary over night.

And then he becomes cross with the lot of them, thinking they damn well better all be fit by practice this evening. Sure, because that typically helps the probability they will be. He's sure of it. If one squints, just so, one can see traces of Oliver Wood in him in moments like those.

Ginny is sitting by herself when they enter. Demelza Robins, their third Chaser, had been sitting with her talking strategy for their upcoming match, but had just left to go sit with Hafsa Devi and the other fifth years instead. O.W.L.s are kind of doing her head in, poor thing. Seven months in advance. She reminds Harry of 'Mione a little sometimes. Not just because Ron's been known to make her cry, he thinks a little ruefully. And that's only if 'Mione were far less studious, a wonder on a broom and, y'know, actually liked Quidditch.

Harry suspects 'Mione would be a Bludger magnet on the pitch. Not just because she couldn't avoid the things, which she couldn't to save her life, but because she really does have some of the worst luck.


Married to Snape.

Enough said on that score.

He and Seamus slide into the seats next to Ginny and begin helping themselves to breakfast.

---

The conversation is initially sort of strained and awkward. It probably doesn't help that Seamus is worried she blames him for putting Ron in the Infirmary, although it's only a small part of the problem. Frankly, that doesn't even cross her mind at all until he makes a brutally awkward attempt to both justify it and apologise all in the same sentence. Not that she particularly wanted to hear either, but he should clearly have decided on one or the other.

For one thing, she doesn't feel she's the one owed an apology. She and Ron aren't the same person, they aren't joined at the hip. And that's only if an apology were actually owed. She knows Ron well enough that she'll allow as how that might not be the case.

For another, Ron's little contretemps hardly registered compared to the Hermione Snape announcement, even if Ginny had missed it, and how the boys had known and hadn't told her about it. She isn't going to get over that any time soon. That's truer than she knows. But that's not quite a discussion she feels like having with Seamus there, and she's sort of waiting for him to push off.

Eventually, even Seamus can't stomach the awkward, and his stomach is normally second only to Ron's in its toughness. Perhaps it's a residual effect of the Pastilles.


Fay, who finally managed to become a reserve Chaser this year, slips into the seat next to sixth year Beater Ritchie Coote, who gives her a shy smile that looks sweetly out of place on him for all his looming form. Her friend Georgina takes the spot by her side. Seamus wisely decides sitting with the attractive, Quidditch savvy single women is preferable to being stuck with whatever weirdness is going on with Harry and Ginny and with a mumbled excuse no one bothers trying to discern, and may not have involved actual words, or perhaps that's just misleading because of his Irish brogue, takes his plate and goes to sit with the others.

Seamus' timing isn't half bad, as it's not long before Jack Sloper, who had filled out quite a bit and improved significantly since his ignoble stint on the team in Harry's fifth year, takes the seat next to Seamus across from the ladies. His friend Andrew Kirke, who hadn't improved a whit at Quidditch as far as Harry can tell, but somehow managed to become the sixth year's male Prefect, not that these are necessarily related things as Hermione's success should prove, takes the free seat next to Georgina. Actually, considering Andrew's competition was Jack, Ritchie, Dhanesh and Colin, his Prefect status begins to make more sense.

---

As the others get lost in their conversation about the upcoming match and their analyses of how they fancy their chances, Ginny takes advantage of the relative privacy it affords them to talk to Harry about how she feels about them not clueing her in yesterday. It's hardly a fruitful discussion, but at least she's taking a stab at clearing the air between them. It's a good idea, but unfortunately Harry's repeated variations on 'he just couldn't tell her' don't prove any more satisfying today than they had yesterday, and they hit an uncomfortable stalemate until it occurs to Harry that he probably does have more to tell her. Now.

Haltingly, quietly, he reveals that 'Mione had apparently been attacked by Death Eaters on Friday, which was the real reason she'd been in the Infirmary. And the bonding was apparently supposed to keep her safe. Somehow. He does a piss-poor job of explaining it, as he hadn't really grasped that part. Honestly, he'd been struggling with the whole ''Mione married Snape' thing, and hadn't followed much of the rest.

Well, until Dumbledore got around to sort of blaming them for the whole thing. Which is clearly rubbish. He desperately hopes.

Naturally, he avoids mentioning any of the stuff about how this may have been retaliation for what he and Ron had done to, uh, provoke Malfoy. Or how this was far more likely to have been because she was his friend, no matter what the Headmaster said. And now he wonders about Malfoy's fall Sunday night, and if they're going to be blamed for it somehow, and if that puts 'Mione at more risk, until it occurs to him that that was exactly what the bond was supposed to be for.

Ginny's jaw drops as she hears about it.

"You didn't think to mention any of this yesterday?!" She's plenty mad that they're still concealing things from her, annoyed that she was the one sending information home, trying to keep their mum informed, when Ron apparently knew more than she did and had deliberately kept it from her. She feels like he set her up. Brilliantly, as he's still in the Infirmary, she directs some of that hostility towards Harry instead. To be fair, though, as far as she knows, Harry had been just as guilty of withholding the facts from her.

And then she realises that she's not sure how long they've known about the attack, and had she had any idea what happened, she'd have visited Hermione in the Infirmary. She would have gone to sit next to her at dinner yesterday. Then it occurs to her that Harry had asked her to do just that, and she'd kind of let both him and Hermione down...

And whether or not she wants to admit it to herself, she had known that something had happened to Hermione on Friday, and she still hadn't stopped by. It hadn't been important enough.

A few people look their way and Harry's wand knocks out a Muffliato before he answers.

"Couldn't." It's roughly as successful as it was a few moments ago, no surprise there, but he also knows there's no point in elaborating. He can't tell her what she needs or wants to hear.

"What exactly happened to her? It happened here? On grounds? At Hogwarts?! How did they even get to her? Is she... I mean, is she alright? Is she even safe now? Are any of us?"

"Uh..." Belatedly, very belatedly, it dawns on him he doesn't know the answers to those questions, and he suspects he probably should. Especially if he considers that those were basically the first things to occur to Ginny. It leaves him wondering if he's a crummy friend.

The answer is 'sometimes', but then most people are. Sometimes. The trick is making those times few and far between.

Posing that question is probably the first step to becoming a better friend. Unfortunately, caught between Ron and Hermione as he is, it will take him some time to become a really good friend. But he's Harry, and this is Hermione he's worried about. She's like a sister to him. Probably the closest thing to one he'll ever have. He'll get there eventually, and Hermione can be both very forgiving and very patient. That should help.

In fact, it will almost definitely be necessary.


With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Harry's remembering telling 'Mione she needed to be more careful, that she was 'incident' prone, that next time she might land in the Infirmary for just breathing or something... Yeah, he'd handled that well. He's feeling incredibly guilty. More so because the Headmaster had intimated this was his fault.

Ginny's reaction is sort of the diametrical opposite to Ron's. Ron had declined all guilt and had wanted to downplay 'Mione's experience and her condition completely as part of that. Harry had been happy to go along with that. He didn't need any more guilt, and he'd preferred to think 'Mione was every bit as alright as she looked. Who wouldn't?

Ginny, on the other hand, seems to think whatever happened was very serious. It's particularly odd, as she had no more information to go on than they did, less even, and yet she seems sure she's right. And Harry kind of fears she is.

It might make a difference that Ginny hadn't sat next to them for the past six years as they developed their strange antagonistic joint relationship with Snape that Harry is, also belatedly, coming to realise wasn't quite as 'joint' as he had thought it was. He thought they were all of an opinion, in agreement about Snape's... his unbelievable git-ness, and then 'Mione does... this.

Harry had been busy feeling betrayed, sort of like how Gin had felt about them leaving her out of the loop, and he'd forgotten to think about the thing itself. Whatever had happened to 'Mione and led to... this.

Merlin.

It's probably good he's talking to Gin now, and it's probably good that Ron isn't there, too. He suspects the conversation wouldn't get very far if he were.

"Whatever happened took place here," Harry finally manages. "I don't know any details about the attack itself, beyond that it was several Death Eaters. The Headmaster didn't say any more. But I got the impression he considers the threat... managed? Somehow? And the bonding was supposed to help, but I really don't know any more about that either. How that's supposed to work..."

"Merlin, Harry. Didn't you wonder why they were bonded?"

He most certainly did, but he suspects that's not what she means. "Well, sure, why she'd marry the greasy..."

Ginny hasn't got the time or patience to listen to that litany, and she's got a bad feeling causing the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. There's also a very real possibility she has mucked something up, but good, in her owl home yesterday. And she's getting a little worried about how her mum will take the news in light of the rumours Ginny had passed along. Probably not well... "No, Harry. Why they were bonded instead of just married."

Given he'd never heard of 'bonding' before yesterday... Hell, the Headmaster had had to interrupt his explanation to the two of them yesterday so Ron could explain to him that was 'basically like married', which he'd done with a thoroughly wooden demeanour. Harry's only known a grand total of two wizarding couples to get married, one of which had effectively eloped. The only married couple other than them he's known longer, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, he'd never have considered asking about their Vows or ceremony. The answer is a clear 'no'. He doesn't bother admitting as much, and Gin doesn't leave him waiting long before she continues anyway.

"Or why in all of the couples bonded, the women are Muggle-born?"

Harry honestly hadn't noticed, and he hasn't a clue why, but now the hairs on the back of his neck are beginning to rise. It feels like there's something ominous lurking there, just beyond his comprehension. He valiantly looks... elsewhere. "So what difference does a bonding make?"

"The Vows, Harry. You can structure them so they're Unbreakable."

"So you die?! Like an Unbreakable Vow? Why would she do that?!"

"No, Harry, it's kind of the opposite. With an Unbreakable Vow, you're the only one affected, you die if you violate it. You need to uphold it or pay the price. With a bond, everybody needs to obey the Vows. Or pay a price."

"Or they die? How the hell does that even work? I didn't even agree to it."

"Not unlike a curse does," she half laughs at him, but she doesn't really sound amused. "Or do you have to agree to those?"

"Yeah, alright. So if anyone breaks it, they die?"

"I don't know. I... I don't think so. Probably not. I've never heard of it happening, anyway, but that might depend on the Vows, yeah? I really don't know, Harry. Honestly, I've never known anyone who was bonded, that's how rare it is."

Harry's beginning to think maybe he should have listened to some of the things Seamus kept saying about bonds this morning. He'd missed the reaction in the Hall last night, and he's getting the idea he missed some crucial details about this whole thing. Like it's staring him in the face, and he's still not seeing it. Maybe it's just Disillusioned, and he's not being ridiculously thick...

"But I think I can guarantee you this, they took a Fidelity Vow."

"A what now?" He asks, hoping he heard that wrong.

Ginny completely fries his brain as she tries to explain that to him. When she's done, he's fairly certain his brain has melted just as surely as if someone had Incendioed it.

"You're saying she could..." He can't even speak the words. He tries one of those strange exercises Professor Taylor is always trying to foist on them, and surprisingly it works. He tries expressing the thought again, this time with more success. "You're saying she could only have sex with Snape?" His voice still drops to a whisper, which is even funnier in light of the Muffliato he cast.

Honestly, he doesn't like thinking about 'Mione having sex. Full stop. With Snape least of all.

He'll have grounds to revise that thought within minutes.

"That would be a cornerstone of a Fidelity Vow, yes, Harry."

"Merlin, Gin. You can't tell Ron, he'd go spare."

"He might already know. He isn't Muggle-raised, after all."

Harry considers if that doesn't help account for Ron's far more volatile reaction to the news. He strongly suspects that's only part of the answer, but also that Ron won't have paid as much attention to 'witch stuff' like various forms of marriage as Ginny might. Harry's holding out some hope. He also won't point out that as the wizarding world doesn't seem to permit same-sex marriages, yet, that those forms of marriage are equally likely to involve wizards and can hardly be deemed 'witch stuff'. He's gotten good at recognising losing battles.

"We can't say as much in front of him. Promise me, Gin. Say you won't." She relents and nods, and he sighs his relief. Frankly, after the boys hadn't told her about the attack and Ron had let her write their mum despite knowing she wasn't aware of critical facts... Well, she's not eager to clear Ron up about anything. "But it's not like she... not like she has to? With... With him?"

Ginny's eyes go wide and she lets out a huff of disbelief. "No, Harry. There's no... requirement, if that's what you're asking." His sigh of relief is now even more pronounced. "Probably," she adds, teasing a little maliciously. She can't quite help herself. "It's sort of a 'forsaking all others' kind of thing."

"Why on earth would she want to do that? You make it sound like a magical chastity belt..." Harry's a bit pants at communicating. Ginny hasn't the foggiest what that is. Witches and wizards had never seen a need for them, and it's nothing an Alohomora wouldn't have sorted, anyway. But it doesn't matter.

"You really don't get it, do you?" He has no answer for her, just a feeling he's better off not knowing whatever it is she thinks she does, but that it isn't an option. He can feel his neck growing tense, the weight on his shoulders growing heavy.

"Why do you think Vows preventing anyone outside of a bond from having sex with Muggle-borns would be a response to a Death Eater attack? From engaging in any form of sexual relations? What advantage do you think that might offer a young woman? What could have motivated Hermione to bond Snape? What protection do you think it offers her?"

Harry blanches at the thought he's desperately trying to keep from coalescing in his mind. He's not having much luck.

If he thought he was a rubbish friend before, he knows he's the literal worst now. He's wrong, of course, but he unfortunately doesn't know that. If he felt guilty before, and he did, that's nothing compared to what he feels now.

He's pretty sure Ginny is implying Hermione was... was sexually assaulted, that the Headmaster had basically told him it was all his fault, listening has never really been his strong suit, and that he had then offended his friend beyond words.

Or apologies.


Half of him wants desperately to pretend Ginny's wrong. The other half has no idea how he'll ever be able to look Hermione in the eyes again. That will prove problematic, in as much as he'll avoid her far too much and far too long, neither trusting enough to their friendship to weather this, nor having the faintest inkling of how to help her. Sometimes it's enough just to be there, but that's a lesson that some people need to learn.

With horror it occurs to him that this is something else he needs to keep from Ron. The volatile ginger wasn't handling their comparatively minor guilt well. There was no chance he'd handle this at all, never mind helpfully.


"Well," Harry finally replies, giving in to denial as the only thing he's capable of voicing, "she seemed alright..."

"She seemed like she was on Draught of Living Death," Ginny tells him, becoming more sure as she says it that Hermione had been on something yesterday.

"Not if she was conscious," Harry corrects. Years of taking Potions with Hermione has left its mark.

"Fine, one of the Calming Potions then."

Harry cleverly manages not to tell her the Calming 'Potions' are actually called 'Draughts', and knows for a fact he only knows that because of Hermione. Then he wonders fleetingly what on earth he's going to do without Hermione in that class, and hates himself for thinking it. And then he shudders as he thinks about Ron and Snape. All 'mano a mano'. Or maybe that's 'wand to wand'...

Ginny hadn't progressed to N.E.W.T.s Potions, and it shows. It is, however, fair to note she hadn't done worse than he and Ron had on her O.W.L.s, but as Snape was again teaching the course, an 'E' hadn't been good enough anymore. Once in a while, he thinks she resents them for that.

She's only taking five N.E.W.T.s like they are, but it hadn't been enough to get her the Prefect's badge for her year. He suspects she hadn't genuinely wanted it any more than Fred or George had, very much of their mindset 'only prats become Prefects' - possibly excepting Hermione, not excepting Ron or Percy in their estimation, but that Ron's frequent teasing has a way of getting under Gin's skin. If he wouldn't keep insisting it made him superior, especially as she seems to feel he's gotten breaks he hasn't exactly earned, she probably wouldn't have an issue with it at all.


"Physically she seemed fine, and she has done since Saturday morning, so she can't have been badly hurt," Harry tries again. He's feeling wrong-footed, and like a bit of a toad for not having thought of any of the things that seem so obvious to Ginny, and it leaves him, stupidly, with an inopportune urge to regain some ground. He goes on the offensive. "Remember I went to see her this weekend."

Ginny pinks at the not so hidden reprimand, and unfortunately rather correctly takes it as a challenge. She never balks at a challenge. Things go downhill from there.

Harry's been having problems with Gin all term, and he feels like he always seems to say just the wrong thing. That's partially because he frequently does, but also because Gin's got her back well up. As Ginny sees it, he'd decided for her that she needed to be 'kept safe', and then dumped her 'for her own good', and she gets enough of that kind of behaviour at home. It makes her see red, and she unexpectedly now finds herself having the same kind of fights with him that she'd had with Dean for much the same reasons. Possibly more so.

She may be missing that with Harry, it's not an argument about gender roles or what she considers sexist, overly solicitous, antiquated behaviours. She fails to recognise - at all - that he has a right to decide what vulnerabilities, what guilt he can manage, and that he's pretty much drowning in it as things currently stand. That his decision to run off to the DoM against everyone's advice a year and a half ago had cost Sirius his life, and nearly Hermione hers as well. He hasn't forgotten that responsibility. He's doing the best he can. Sadly, it isn't always apparent or seen as good enough.

It's not long before it turns into a bit of a slanging match, which will do no one any good at all, least of all Hermione. Both Harry and Ginny will feel guilty enough towards her to quite overshadow their interactions with her for some time to come.

Highly counterproductive.


Realising they're only making things worse between them, Harry and Ginny finally agree to call a truce, drop the Muffliato as a sort of weak assurance they'll stick to it and try to interact with some of the others at their table.

Oddly, no one who'd been sitting there able to see them silently arguing seems eager to take them up on it.