A Matter of Honor
by Amy McWilliams (McAmy)

Book 1: The Honors Project

Chapter 4: Good News, Bad News

When Professor Snape finally noted that they would be late for dinner, Hermione was shocked that they had been talking about her proposal for so long. (She was also surprised that his requirements had been so reasonable; she had expected some untold terror, from the rumors about past students. He'd actually remarked, "save something for the actual project, Miss Granger," when she suggested an expanded literature review on the Cruciatus curse.) She quickly grabbed her book bag and left the classroom, only nodding when Professor Snape reminded her not to be late for their next meeting, set for the following Wednesday.

Her mind was racing with plans--the articles he'd given her, the library work she needed to do--and she had to remind herself, just as Snape had, that she needed to focus on her finals before she turned to her proposal. She had all summer to write her proposal--but it would be a summer without the Hogwarts library!

As she arrived on the ground floor, she broke into a run and a smile. She couldn't wait to tell Harry that things had gone so well! Of course…Ron would be there too. But she refused to let his certain reaction ruin her mood; this was what she wanted more than anything in the world, and it looked like it just might happen.

She slowed to a quick walk as she entered the hall, and as she took her place at the table she saw Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore lean towards each other, watching her. She smiled at her Head of House, who looked pleased (and relieved?), glanced at Remus, who was smiling at her as well, and turned to Harry and Ron.

The look on her face said it all. She was about to burst with the news, and as Harry started to ask her to just go ahead and tell them everything, Ron threw his fork down and shoved away from the table. Harry followed his gaze to see Snape arriving at the head table, but Hermione was watching Ron as he left the hall.

Harry said with a sigh, "I'd better go get him…" but Hermione interrupted him by standing.

"No Harry, this is something the two of us have to figure out. Finish your dinner and I'll see you later."

As she left, Harry looked back towards the head table. Professor Snape was talking to Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick ("Probably can't wait to tell him that Hermione's going to do Potions," Harry thought), but Remus caught his eye with a concerned look. Harry shrugged, and then returned to his dinner and Quidditch talk with Seamus and Neville, who were trying their best not to ask for the gory details about Ron and Hermione.

Hermione searched everywhere for Ron, and finally found him in the first place she should have tried--Hagrid's. Maybe she had saved it for last so she could have some time to figure out what she was going to say--or maybe she was afraid of what she was going to say, what Ron was going to say….

Hagrid was sitting outside by a fire, carving something out of wood. Hermione greeted him, "Hullo, Hagrid."

"Hullo yerself, 'Mione. You lookin' for Ron, I 'spect?" he asked, sadly. Hermione nodded. "He'll be inside, I reckon."

"Thanks, Hagrid." She moved to the door.

"He loves yeh, yeh know…" said Hagrid, softly.

"I know," she said. "I love him too."

She opened the door and went inside. Ron was huddled in one of Hagrid's big chairs, looking more like the first-year boy she'd met on a train than she'd seen him look in ages. He didn't look at her as she entered; he merely muttered, "Hello, Hermione," and then sat staring into the fire.

She took a seat opposite, knowing that he wouldn't want her to take his hand. Knowing that he wouldn't want her close. Hoping that she was wrong, but knowing, somehow knowing, that it was over.

"Ron, I'm sorry that you don't approve of my choice. I wish I could explain it to you--make it right. I'm not sure what I can say…" she faltered. He still didn't speak. "Ron, I care about you, and…but…I can't…well, I can't do this anymore. I hate feeling like I have to defend myself to you all the time. I just wish…" He looked her in the eye and she stopped.

After a minute, during which his eyes never left her face but hers dropped to the ground--she hadn't meant to accuse him of anything--he said, with quiet anger, "What about me, Hermione? What about my feeling like I can't do anything right? Like I'm just the stupid git you hold hands with during Quidditch matches? Like there's no way I can understand what you're on about when you talk about your work? I may not be as smart as you, Hermione, but I've always tried to understand, to at least support you. But it seems that isn't good enough anymore."

Hermione flushed, then raised her voice. "Support me? You call screaming in my face about Snape, telling me that he wouldn't want to work with me on a…what was it…'stupid, bloody honors project' supporting me?"

Ron turned back to the fire, lips pressed together, face as red as his hair. She hesitated, seeing the pain in his eyes. "Ron…I'm sorry, Ron. I just…I just don't understand. I honestly don't understand why this bothers you so much. I know you hate Snape, but why does it matter…"

Ron started, turning to look at her again. He spoke softly, all anger gone from his voice. "You used to hate Snape too, Hermione." He rested his head on the back of the chair. "I never understood how you could love homework so much--love school so much. I never understood how you could want to be so chummy with all of our professors. But through all of the classes, all of the teachers, all of the homework and lessons and books and…" he trailed off, and she waited for him to finish.

"Through it all," he continued, plaintively, glancing over at her again, "there were things that we agreed on--all three of us. Dumbledore was good, Snape was bad, and we always cheered for anybody playing Slytherin at Quidditch."

Hermione smiled meekly and waited, but he didn't continue. She asked, still not sure what he meant, "So you're angry that I tolerate Snape now? Is that it?"

Ron shifted in the chair, leaning towards her. "I'm angry, Hermione, because you are the most important thing in my life. Or at least…I want you to be. But somehow I've always known that I'm not the most important thing in yours. School was always more important. I could understand that…sort of…I could tell myself that once school was over…" he paused to frame his next words carefully. "But Hermione, this honors project means more to you than anything--or anybody--right now. And the fact that you're going to be working with Snape…well, that makes me feel like even Snape is more important to you than I am."

He looked away, embarrassed. "I know it's silly. I know you don't like Snape, that you're excited about the Potions project, not about working with him, exactly." He glanced at her. "Are you?"

Hermione was silent for a moment. She had to be honest, but she wished that the truth wasn't so difficult. "He is a great Potions Master, Ron. And while I may not like him as a person, of course I'm looking forward to learning more from him than I ever could in class. The potion I'm working on…" but she stopped when she saw the expression on his face. She could feel the tears welling up in her own eyes, and swallowed hard.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she whispered.

"I'm sorry too, Hermione," he answered.

He stood, crossed to her side, and bent down to kiss her on the cheek. Then he left, closing the door softly behind him. Hermione turned towards the fire and wept.

On to Chapter 5