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A Matter of Honor Book 2: Honor Bound Chapter 4: Equilibrium Later, when Greg returned to the living room, Hermione started to talk and didn't stop for half an hour. She told him stories about Seamus, about all of them at Hogwarts. She told him how worried she was that Harry would be killed. And she told him, finally, about Professor Snape. Before this, she had only ever said that he was her Potions Master, that she had worked with him on her honors project. Now she told him that he also worked as a spy for Dumbledore, and that when his letter had arrived, she had realized that she hadn't even stopped once to wonder what had happened to him at the time of the raid. Remus would have told her if he was…if he'd been hurt, but when she read his note, which was both familiar in its measured language and more caring than she would have expected, she felt guilty, and was relieved that he was all right. She knew that there was more than he was saying. That he had, most likely, been hurt at the hands of the Death Eaters, that he had been in danger during the attacks, possibly from both sides, and that he would not have admitted to anyone what he had gone through. She also knew that he would have known that Harry was in danger. Like Remus and McGonagall, he hadn't warned her. She pushed all of those thoughts out of her mind over the next few weeks and concentrated on getting back to work. Snape was right; her work was important. And regardless of her jumbled feelings over the awful events over the holiday break, that was something she could do, something she could hold onto, something that could make her forget, for a while, the fear and doubt and anger that threatened to eat her alive.
For the spring term, she had Arithmancy, Potions, and Herbology (with Greg) again, all counting towards her double major, and Professor Harwood's students had convinced her to do another semester on the Victorian novel, for which Hermione had gladly signed up as her elective. She also had Transfiguration and her second required semester of History of Magic. Shortly after the start of the semester, she had received a letter from Ars Alchemica. It wasn't exactly a rejection, but they also didn't promise they'd ever run the article. She decided to let them keep it for a while and see what happened, rather than requesting they return it and withdrawing her submission. She had also resumed her correspondence with Professor Snape a week or so after receiving his letter. She had made no mention of recent events, and neither did he. Hermione had settled into her comfortable routine again, feeling almost normal, when she received a letter from Harry saying that Ron was coming for a visit, and could she come to Glasgow the weekend after next to see them both? She was a bit anxious. Neither of them had heard from Ron since before Christmas-he'd chosen to stay in Romania for the holiday (and the funeral, added Hermione), though Charlie had made it home. When she'd asked Harry about him, Harry said he still wasn't sure what was going on with Ron. Harry and Ron met her at the train station, and the three friends embraced warmly. Hermione kissed them both on the cheek, and noticed that Ron's eyes seemed…distant. That was the only word she could come up with. They didn't leave her time to sort it out, though, and bundled her into a cab with them to return to Harry's flat. The evening went smoothly, as they told stories and joked with each other. It wasn't quite like old times, and none of them wanted to be the first to mention Seamus's death. But it was good. After dinner, as they sat sipping mulled cider out of over-sized mugs, Ron said, "So I guess you'd both like to know why I wanted to see you." It wasn't a question. Harry replied, after casting a glance at Hermione, "Yeah…I mean, it seemed like you had something you wanted to tell us. What is it?" Ron didn't answer immediately, and Hermione offered, "Is something wrong, Ron?" He flinched. "Nothing's wrong. Or rather, it has been wrong, but I've sorted out what to do about it." He looked from one to the other. "I'm going into Auror training. I'm moving to London, and I'll start next week." Hermione and Harry were stunned. Harry spoke first. "That's great, Ron, but…when did you decide this? I thought you didn't want to be an Auror." Ron looked at his friend. "I didn't want to be an Auror, Harry, because you were going to be one. I wanted to do something different; I wanted to be somebody other than 'Harry Potter's best friend.'" Harry didn't know what to say. Ron swallowed, then continued. "I don't mean to hurt your feelings, Harry, but…well, Hermione knew exactly what she wanted to do, and her work is important. And you were going to be an Auror, and everybody assumed that 'the boy who lived' would be the best Auror there was. And so I decided that I'd go away, do something that I liked, something neither of you were going to do. I wanted to be…different. Important." After a moment, Hermione said, "Ron, you were always important." But she knew what he meant, and as he looked her in the eye, she faltered. "You were. You were important to me," she quietly insisted. Ron smiled at her. "I know. And thank you. It's not really to do with either of you-you never made me feel badly about myself. Or…well…not very often, at least." Harry smiled, thinking of the Triwizard Tournament, when Ron had turned against him, and of Ron's more recent spats with Hermione. Ron continued, "It's more about how everybody else sees me-my family, even. Of course, going to work with Charlie didn't solve that." He took a sip and said, "But now that…" He stopped, cleared his throat. "Now the Ministry needs help to rebuild. They lost a lot of…good people in that raid, and they need help. This is something important. This is something I can do. I know I can. I can be good at it." He stopped, his emotion getting the better of him. "We know you can Ron. You'll be the best," Hermione said gently. "The very best," added Harry.
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