Wanting to stay on top of the day, both Hermione and Harry rose early, mock-sparred physically to warm themselves up, discovered that the cushioning charms were brilliant, and were at breakfast promptly at eight. The blue-haired seventh-years were keeping themselves scarce. Hermione and Harry settled at the sparsely populated Gryffindor table and served themselves.
"Mr Potter. Miss Granger." They stopped eating and looked up at the glowering man who had materialized behind them. Hermione could have sworn he'd waited until they had food but couldn't possibly have eaten more than two mouthfuls yet. "The headmaster has seen fit to designate me this year's child-minder."
Hermione raised an eyebrow and thought quite loudly, And how could this possibly pertain to me?
From his compressed lips, her shields had "slipped" by just the right degree. It wasn't as though there were rules against thinking snarky comebacks. It wasn't proper MindSpeech, but between two Legilimens, it amounted to the same thing.
"I am the faculty member liaising with this year's Head Boy and Head Girl," he said tersely.
Ruthlessly, Hermione suppressed the urge to giggle. The headmaster really was a master manipulator, and she suspected that he had a bit of a sadistic streak. It was true, however, that while Kingsley could come to Hogwarts periodically in the guise of checking in with Tonks, too frequent visits ran the risk of coming to the Ministry's attention and generating awkward questions.
Similarly, although Remus was by no means barred from the grounds of the school, his presence risked public censure for the headmaster at a time when such divisiveness could be most damaging. He was also continuing to parlay with the wild werewolves, which kept him away for long stretches of time, so his visits were restricted as well.
Tonks had agreed to pick up the slack wherever she could, but this was her first year teaching, and realistically, Hermione and Harry were going to have a lot of training with Severus. Albus had just given them a cover for a certain percentage of their meetings, an easy way to arrange clandestine meetings, and the perfect vehicle for exchanging all necessary messages.
"And I suppose you think now is the perfect time for our first meeting, sir?" Hermione asked with every ounce of politeness she possessed, as though she would not dream of disagreeing with him.
"Yes," he bit out.
Harry had wisely chosen to remain silent since it was already plain that this exchange was not going quite the way Severus had intended.
"Then we'd be happy to go along with you, Professor, wouldn't we, Harry?"
Harry nodded obediently, and the two of them rose, leaving their full plates of food without a backward glance.
Fawkes, do you think you could ask Dobby if he would mind bringing us our food once we get settled?
Showing up the Potions master before the first class, are we? Fawkes's tone made it clear that he was amused but uncertain that this was the smartest course of action she'd ever taken.
What could our food appearing have to do with me? she inquired with mock innocence.
Have it your way. I've asked Winky, though; the poor man can only take so much at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning.
Ta.
They made their way to Severus's office. A good gander at the lower levels on the Map yesterday had shown her that the Potions master's office was only slightly further away from their quarters than his quarters and private laboratory were. She was pretty sure that all his rooms were, in fact, attached in some manner, but there were some secrets that even the Map didn't betray.
The Potions master barely gave them time to seat themselves on the uncomfortable wooden chairs in front of his desk before he began, standing across the desk from them, arms crossed.
"The headmaster has evidently been hard at work coming up with ways to make my life more miserable than it already is. Needless to say, unless you're dying and need to appoint Draco and Pansy as your successors, you will keep your Head Boy and Girl duties to yourselves."
She translated this in her head to mean that he was available for emergencies.
"Any necessary correspondence will relate to those duties."
Meaning, she supposed, that they needed to have their decoder rings in proper working order because any missives would need to be couched in terms of their duties.
"Meetings will be similarly structured."
He'd be awfully annoyed, then, if they were ever caught without a perfectly plausible fake agenda.
He then dropped all pretext and got to the real reason for their meeting, which was just as well, as this sort of Slytherin-speak in this context amused her more than anything else, and being flippant to the most severe professor at Hogwarts was never a terribly wise plan.
"Your primary training will once again fall to me. Other Order members will be joining us only when they can find time out of their busy schedules." Hermione winced, wondering how much Albus's ears had blistered. "Our schedule will shift from week to week to help prevent suspicion or complacency. Training will be primarily in the evening to facilitate your descent to and egress from the dungeons. I hope—"
Harry cleared his throat loudly, cutting Severus off mid-word, but then the Gryffindor looked to her. The Head of Slytherin followed Harry's gaze.
"I would have let him finish his sentence, at least," she grumbled before addressing the older man across the desk. "You may want to see our quarters before you make any more decisions."
"I don't see how that could possibly—"
"They're not far." She ignored Harry's look now that she had also interrupted the man. But really, if she was supposed to be offering this explanation, she could do so as she chose.
Severus's eyes narrowed, suddenly suspicious.
"Show me."
Fortunately, Harry seemed to be too grateful that she didn't get them lost to wonder why she knew the way from Severus's office to their quarters. By the time they were standing in front of the gargoyle, the Slytherin was positively glowering. It probably hadn't helped that they'd both grinned simultaneously. It had had nothing to do with his mood, however, and everything to do with the "Severus Snape" that had been announced in their ears as the man arrived at their door. They wandlessly and wordlessly stopped the spell.
The gargoyle dissolved as they desired it to, and the man brushed past them to enter the rooms first.
He stopped all of five steps into the room, and his simmering anger seemed to be nudging right up to full boil.
"These are Slytherin rooms. They can't just be given to Gryffindors," he spat the words.
She wasn't sure he'd meant to speak the words aloud. That particular tone, as though they were the essence of all evil, had recently been absent from his arsenal, at least when he referred to them specifically.
"There aren't any Gryffindor colours," she said placatingly, "not even in the bedrooms." He whirled on her, nostrils flaring, looking poised for attack, and she suddenly hoped that Harry hadn't changed the colour scheme in his room when she wasn't looking. She offered hopefully, "We warded the door so not even Albus can get in."
The tension eased as suddenly as it had appeared, amusement expressed in the sardonic twist of his lip. "At least your behaviour is marginally reminiscent of Slytherins. The training will still tend towards evenings, as not all of us have several weekdays off." They both glared at Harry, but he shrugged their looks off with a smile. "Also on weekend mornings before the others are up and about."
Harry wisely said nothing to object to this, either. There went their chance of ever having a lie-in, but Severus wasn't getting one either, and if it was down to a little more sleep or successfully learning the tools necessary to defeat Voldemort, they all knew the correct choice.
The Slytherin opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by the soft "pop" that heralded the arrival of a house-elf. Winky was dressed in a neatly pressed and well-fitting towel toga, the tray of food she was carrying obscuring the discreet Black and Potter family crests that adorned it.
Of all the occurrences Hermione had expected last summer, dealing with the hysterical and drunken elf being reunited with her cousin Kreacher was not one of them. Hermione had been reluctantly forced to concede that Winky needed to be bound to be happy, and the change in both creatures since then had been astonishing. The two tended to split their time between the now-immaculate House of Black and Hogwarts, preferring to work together whenever possible.
"Master Harry, Mistress Hermione, I is bringing you your breakfasts, and I is bringing more in case the professor is hungry also."
"Thank you, Winky," Harry said cheerfully, not having expected this boon.
"That was very thoughtful," Hermione added, smiling.
She could have sworn that the diminutive creature winked at her before putting the tray down on the table in front of the fire and disappearing once they nodded to her. Hermione hoped Winky was more perceptive than Dobby—or that had just been a nervous tick of some kind—because Hermione was doomed, otherwise.
Harry had already sat down on the couch and was helping himself to his food.
"Would you care to join us, sir?" Hermione invited.
Severus took tea and a croissant and settled into one of the armchairs. Hermione sat down next to Harry and gathered her own plate.
"In my experience," Severus said dryly, "no matter how obliging house-elves are, they don't tend to track down students who haven't managed to finish their breakfasts in order to bring the food to them."
Harry looked at Hermione and Hermione looked at Harry. She shrugged, and the Gryffindor boy spoke.
"Personal elves tend to see after the needs of those they take care of."
Hermione smiled faintly at his avoidance of the word "master". She knew she'd given Winky a good home, and it was that thought which had really reconciled her to researching and performing the Binding Spell for the so piteously hopeful-looking elf.
"Returning to your former glory, I see; I seem to recall a time when the Potters owned several house-elves."
Harry's hand clenched white-knuckled around his fork. Hermione eased it out of his grasp, coaxing his fingers apart so that she could clasp his hand and squeeze reassuringly.
Her tone was acid when she responded, "Then you're the only one here who does, because they and any tales they might tell were murdered when Harry was a baby. As you know, Harry inherited one elf whether he willed it or no, and he rescued the other from a slow death." She met his glare head on and snapped out a heartless, "Sir."
Harry now seemed to be clenching her hand back, and he looked poised for an explosion.
"You would think that six years at this institution would have taught you manners, Miss Granger." Severus's tone was inscrutable.
"I don't recall a lesson on etiquette," she replied with equal calm. "Unless you intend for me to have one in detention?"
"Administered to the Head Girl in her first week? Albus would kill me."
She nodded, realizing this was as close to an apology as she was likely to get. He knew better than to bait Harry about his family without cause. "It would be an ironic way to go, given all your options."
"I would come back and haunt you for the rest of your life," he said conversationally.
Harry was staring between the two of them incredulously, clearly not able to comprehend yet another abrupt mood change.
"But I, despite the painful thought of following in Olive Hornby's footsteps, would have you Banished back to Hogwarts. Surely you don't want to end up like Myrtle?"
"It would take an event a great deal more earth-shattering than death to turn me into Myrtle," he said distastefully.
"The Bloody Baron, then?" she proposed sweetly.
"That would be entirely more likely." His tone was dry. "Have you quite finished?"
She nodded, well satisfied. Keeping the two of them happy—or at least not desperately angry—at the same time felt like a full-time job.
Severus resumed the topic he had started when they were interrupted by Winky's arrival. "Your sessions will concentrate on whatever I deem your most pressing needs. You must be prepared to do whatever I tell you."
They both just looked at him.
He rolled his eyes, but she thought there was a faint showing of amusement in the set of his mouth. "Within reason, as pertains to the lesson."
They nodded. Similar rules had been imposed on the lessons in sixth year, although these had not begun until after Christmas when Harry and Severus had been prevailed upon to behave—both she and Albus had been working flat-out to achieve this—and resume Occlumency lessons.
Ron's attendance then, like now, was sporadic. He was by no means a weak wizard, but he couldn't match Harry or Hermione for raw power, and he'd never really understood their desire for Muggle defence lessons. As with the DA, he was happy to come once a week or when there was something specific and useful to learn, but daily training held no appeal for him. Several times, Hermione had to sternly restrain herself from asking him what he thought he'd be doing in Auror training next year.
Ron's very serious commitment to the Gryffindor Quidditch team also meant that he was frequently unavailable during the evenings and on weekends, if not for training then because he was conspiring with the rest of the team or planning strategies on his own. He didn't seem to have a lot of focus to spare, and Hermione supposed that it was useful to have at least one third of the trio acting as though business was as usual to help deflect attention from the other two.
From the way Severus was talking about it now, Hermione assumed that the frequency and intensity of their sessions was about to be stepped-up.
"Just tell us when and where, sir, and we'll be there," Harry said seriously.
"Tomorrow morning at seven in Room One."
They nodded again, Hermione mentally bidding farewell to yet another research-sharing time. Room One was located, conveniently or thanks the headmaster's manipulations, about halfway between Severus's quarters and their own. It was large and empty, allowing them to conjure whatever they needed for that day's lesson, be it mats, dummies, or tree-like obstructions to simulate an outdoor battle. At the first opportunity, Hermione would be sneaking in there to pad the floors and walls.
The Potions master rose. "If you will excuse me, I have a meeting with the headmaster."
More like about-to-be-scheduled rant time, she imagined. Since there was no time like the present, Hermione spoke up.
"Sir, I have a request."
"Is it related to the subject at hand?"
"No, sir."
"Then I sincerely doubt you wish to disturb my Saturday morning with it, Miss Granger," Severus said coolly.
Really, the possibility of chewing the headmaster out should have put him in a better mood.
"Harry," Hermione said flatly.
Harry made a great show of looking at his watch. "Oh, is that the time? Will you excuse me, Professor?"
Severus gave the barest inclination of his head, and Harry showed himself out.
"He has the subtlety of an Unforgivable."
"But did you really want me to come back and bother another part of your Saturday?" she asked pointedly.
"What do you want, Hermione?" he asked with resignation mixed with amusement.
Suppressing a smile of triumph, she answered, "Lab time. Practicals. I have a very important project."
Severus was one of the few at the school who might appreciate what she could do with that sort of trial. And he did, apparently.
"You'll be working around my schedule and using your own stores or clearing usage with me first. The headmaster, naturally, makes many allowances for his star Gryffindors."
She knew full well that this had nothing to do with the headmaster.
"Thank you, Severus," she said sincerely.
He offered her an almost smile before stalking out.
Looking at the time, Hermione realized that, exaggerated as Harry's gesture had been, they were supposed to have met the Prefects twenty minutes ago. She hurried off to the Prefects' lounge, where she found the twenty-two Prefects clustered around Harry. Given the sympathetic expressions on sixteen and the smirks on six, Harry had already explained the official reason why they were late.
Terry, Morag, Hannah, and Draco were easily recognizable thanks to their still garishly blue hair.
"Nice of you to join us, Granger," Draco drawled.
It wasn't quite snide enough that it could be positively considered facetious.
"Thank you, Malfoy," she replied, voice carefully even. "I do have a very busy schedule, but I can always make time for you."
His lips twitched infinitesimally. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."
Harry smiled. "And with the pleasantries out of the way, how about showing us the schedule you came up with?"
They spent the next forty minutes checking the schedule and the rounds themselves. First they double-checked that everyone was equally represented, that the desired times were covered, and that no one felt particularly ill-used. Between the Friday and Saturday night rounds and the Hogsmeade weekends, there were plenty of undesirable shifts for everyone, and the Sunday through Thursday shifts could generally be worked out based on everyone's school schedules.
"If you're sick or can't perform one of your shifts because you suddenly realize a super important essay is due the next day," Harry proposed to several grins, "switching with someone else is fine, but you need to clear it with Hermione or me first so that we always know who's out there. In a real emergency, we can take over for you, but we will make you pay with your firstborn child, so use that option sparingly."
Ginny's hand went up. "So once we've used that option once, we're free to get you to substitute whenever we want?"
He rolled his eyes but answered the question as though it were serious. "After that, we move on to limbs, and when they're gone," he continued, seeing the glint in her eyes, "we'll come up with something really gruesome, but it's a surprise, yeah? I wouldn't want to spoil it."
Ginny snickered. "Got it."
Hermione took over to get them back on track. "Harry and I will have the master list, but I'll get duplicates to each of you for Monday morning. They'll automatically update, so if we make a change to ours, it'll show up on yours—but not the other way round, in case anyone's wondering. We are aware that your housemates will often know when you've actually gone out to patrol, but we ask that you don't divulge the schedule beforehand to others or at least don't do so indiscriminately, as we know you sometimes need to make plans with friends. The schedule itself will be spelled to show up to anyone else as notes from Hogwarts: A History."
Harry and Ginny smothered laughter with very unconvincing coughs.
Hermione cleared her throat pointedly and continued, "Don't forget that you're patrolling in pairs for a reason. We know it's tempting to finish more quickly by splitting up, but there's safety in numbers, and we don't want to see anything happen to any of you because you were taking shortcuts."
They continued with "Proper Prefect Procedures", as Harry had insisted on calling them, reminding everyone that gratuitous point loss or gain on the part of Prefects was unacceptable behaviour, as points were tracked, and Minerva would be bringing any discrepancies to Harry and Hermione, who would deal with the Prefects in question. Students from all houses were to be treated respectfully, but by the same token, Prefects should expect tolerable behaviour from all students in return. Issues either way were to be brought to Harry and Hermione's attention.
"And of course, we're accountable as well," Hermione reminded them. "If anyone has any problems with us, including any of you, that you don't feel you can resolve with us personally, just take your complaints to Professor Snape."
Harry's muttering was heard by most of the table. "Because I desperately need to be in detention until I'm twenty."
There was a general chuckle, and Hermione was pleased to see that the Slytherins didn't immediately look as though they were scheming ways to make that happen. Of course, they were the people most likely to be discreet about that sort of thing, but she and Harry would take their chances.
"If any of you need to find us, we have private quarters. What many of you may not have anticipated is that they can be located in the midst of the dungeons."
There were numerous looks of surprise.
Harry continued, "We're in the middle of a war, and Hogwarts needs be united. It's past time to do away with stupid prejudices."
"We don't expect you all to forget your previous years and the problems you might have had," Hermione added, "but we are hoping that you can move beyond them and act like the mature, responsible people we know you are. Questions?"
Nobody ventured any, and the meeting broke up. Hermione asked the four blue-haired Prefects to stay behind, pausing to allow all of them to throw their counterparts off. Ginny had stayed behind as well, waving Andrew on.
"I'm not waiting 'til I'm ready to give up my firstborn—let's see the dungeon digs!"
Harry and Hermione laughed, and she suggested that the two of them go down ahead of her, which they did, although they didn't attempt to hide their curiosity, which the four remaining Prefects echoed.
"You want a picture for posterity, Granger?" Draco asked impatiently once everyone else had finally cleared out.
"Rather the opposite, actually," she answered, amused. "Professor Tonks was kind enough not to say that we couldn't undo what she'd done, and since you're all Prefects and under my charge, I'm taking it upon myself to make us look good. Professor Tonks's spell will wear off on Monday, and I'd prefer you keep the cachet to us, but the choice is yours."
"You're really going to leave the Weasel with blue hair when you can fix it?" Draco asked sceptically.
"Have I fixed Ron's hair yet?" she asked pointedly. "If clever Prefects worked it out on their own, what does that have to do with me?" Draco's lip curled. "Now, as many of you have no doubt discovered, the spell can't be prematurely terminated, and traditional dye spells have no effect." They nodded. "I therefore can't return your hair to its original colour as such; that won't happen until Professor Tonks's spell self-terminates on Monday. However, the same spell cast a second time will layer overtop of the current blue. With your permission, I'll cast the same spell but for your natural colour, and you'll look right as rain. I'll set it to terminate shortly after the professor's spell, and no one will know the difference."
"Is there a reason you can't simply teach us this spell?" Draco asked suspiciously.
"It will layer more completely the more closely it mimics Professor Tonks's original, which means a separate caster, and you'll be walking through that doorway." She pointed at the entrance. "You don't think I'd do anything untoward to you, do you, Malfoy?"
Smirking a little at his uncertain expression, Hermione warded the doorway wordlessly. "Anyone feeling brave?" There were no immediate volunteers. "Hannah?"
The Hufflepuff started but nodded after a moment, squared her shoulders, and marched through the doorway. When no immediate change was seen, they all looked at Hermione doubtfully.
"Mimicking Professor Tonks's original," she repeated. "Give it a couple of hours. Terry? Morag?"
They followed Hannah, and with a last look at her and Draco, thanked her and headed off.
Hermione looked at Draco, who just stood there.
"I can take it down before you leave," she offered. She wanted to force him to make a choice, so he had to have a viable alternative.
"Fuck, I'm going to end up with red and gold hair," Draco muttered before striding purposely through the door.
Hermione disabled her wards and met him on the other side. He opened his mouth.
"We could skip both threats and thanks and call it even," she proposed.
His expression changed to a smirk before he inclined his head slightly in her direction and took off. Shaking her head, she headed down to the dungeons, glad when she and Draco didn't meet up.
She found Harry and Ginny talking over the bath, Harry at the end of his recitation of Ron's reaction. Laughing, Ginny turned to Hermione. "So I won't be seeing the two of you in the Gryffindor common room ever?"
Hermione smiled. "Not when I can take over half the room with my homework."
Harry cleared his throat loudly.
"Nine tenths of the room?"
He smiled, tilting his head in concession.
"Tea?" Hermione invited Ginny.
She shook her head. "Are you kidding? I have to go report to everyone in Gryffindor before they send out a rescue party."
"You'll be all right getting back upstairs?" Hermione asked.
Pausing at the door, Ginny nodded. "Harry showed me all the landmarks on the way down."
She passed through the doorway, and the gargoyle reappeared.
"What did you need to see those four for?" Harry asked immediately.
"Hmm?" Hermione asked absently, not fooling Harry for a second as she went into her bedroom and began to gather up her books.
She looked up at his continued silence to find him leaning against her doorframe, spoiling his mock glare with the hint of smile. "I'll find out eventually."
She shrugged, going back to her schoolwork.
"I'm about to lose you to the thrall of books?"
She nodded.
"I'll go see how Ron's doing, then, and catch you up later."
She nodded again and was soon working on the last of her homework.
Shortly after eight, Harry came bouncing into the common room looking inordinately chipper.
"Good news!"
She raised an eyebrow to indicate she was listening.
"Ron and Lavender are on again."
It wouldn't even be right to call their relationship stormy, although Ron was hot-tempered and Lavender could be highly emotional; it was closer to a matter of convenience revolving around when they both felt like dating simultaneously. Hermione generally didn't give it a lot of thought, and Harry didn't usually, either.
"I'm at a loss to see why this pleases you so much," she said dryly.
"They're on again currently. As in, right now. As in, we could be shagging like rabbits, and he wouldn't know or care. So spill with the research!"
Hermione smiled at his enthusiasm and packed all her school books and parchments away without bothering to get out her notes on Pure Adults; she remembered it all, and six years of close association with Harry had proven that he would take her at her word when it came to what she had researched.
He insisted on a brief tea interlude, correctly judging that she hadn't eaten in hours and wanting to be certain, in his words, that she didn't expire from hunger just as she got to the good stuff. He noted, seemingly offhand, that the four afflicted Prefects no longer had blue hair but only shook his head with wry amusement when she affected no knowledge of how that could possibly have occurred.
Once she'd got through a selection of the fruit Winky had brought and the two of them were comfortably settled on either end of the couch, fortified with mugs of tea, he let her start.
She grimaced slightly. "Let me preface this by saying that I'm not happy with the uncertainty surrounding much of the information I've gathered."
"'Mione, you wouldn't be happy if you were quizzing the Founders themselves."
Hermione shrugged, grinning a little. "Perhaps not. But the facts really have been obscured, and it all seems to be second-hand information at best."
"Well, can you tell me why it was the two of us?"
"In general and gigantically iffy terms?" she warned once more. He nodded gamely, so she continued, "Human beings are immensely complex. In wizards, this complexity is only magnified by our magic. It permeates us, interacts with our non-magical systems, and allows us to do extraordinary things. One of the ways in which our magic interacts with our biology is to increase our libido. As young witches and wizards progress through their teen years, their magic is still growing and mutating towards its final form. This form won't be reached until they turn seventeen, when witches and wizards have full access to all of their power. Until they turn seventeen, this growing magic interacts more and more strongly with their hormones. Sooner or later, this leads the young people to have sex."
Harry made a face. "You make it sound like they have no choice."
She frowned. "I wouldn't say 'no choice', precisely, but I admit that I found it a bit disturbing, too. It's not an outside force, anyway, and I know that there are plenty of Muggles who would argue that they'd experienced similar urges without any magical assistance."
His lips tipped up.
"After this first time," she continued, "the fervour of the impulse fortunately dies down; we aren't forced to try to have sex as frequently as possible from our first time to our seventeenth birthdays. It seems as though once our magic has successfully … engaged our sexual drives, its attention is then focussed elsewhere. At any rate, the fact remains that that is how the vast majority of witches and wizard experience puberty."
"But we don't form part of that majority," he said, and she thought from the frown on his face that he was probably remembering Cho Chang.
"No," she agreed. "And from what I've discovered, there's no absolute answer as to why not. If there were, power-hungry people would have worked out a clear method and would have been exploiting it ever since." She sighed and embarked into the land of theory. "As near as I can figure, the balance between the magical and non-magical parts of ourselves is a crucial one. Timing is crucial. We each receive our adult-level power at the moment that we turn seventeen—not at midnight on our birthday but precisely seventeen years after we were born. Until then, we don't have all our power. Until then, our bodies are ticking down the years or the minutes or the seconds until we're fully developed and become wizarding adults."
She could see Harry's confusion, so she switched over to a concrete example.
"Do you know when I turned seventeen?"
He hesitated briefly, the unexpected demand that he prove he know her birthday resulting in a mild panic, but he managed after a moment, "September nineteenth, 1996."
"Legally," she agreed, trying not to smirk too much at his look of relief at having got it right. "But my Time-Turner usage makes it a little different. Biologically, by my count, it was December nineteenth of the previous year, and magically it might have been twenty-two days earlier than that because of the May that I spent Petrified."
Harry was staring at her wide-eyed.
"I found an unconfirmed study in one of the Black books suggesting that Time-Turners should never be used by children. The effects were not elaborated upon, but I wonder if I wouldn't be a case in point. Temporally, biologically, and magically, my age was off, and that impulse that everyone goes on about didn't engage, or I didn't feel its effects as direly as everyone else did, because I was easily able to master any early urges I might have had."
From his expression, he'd definitely heard her silent, "Thank God!"
"But what about me?" he questioned. "I didn't use the Time-Turner like that."
"But you did use it. Even for a few hours, that would skew your magic and the temporal seventeen year countdown by at least a little bit. I think your difficulties were exacerbated by also being possessed by Voldemort."
Harry made a face and mumbled, "Knew this was his fault somehow."
She smiled. "While under seventeen, you were possessed by an adult. At those times when he was in your mind and when he was controlling you, it may well have short-circuited the normal links between your magic and your hormones. While he was in possession, you were an adult who wasn't limited in that way. It might even be possible that the link was made when you were just a baby and whatever exchange occurred between the adult Voldemort and you as an infant permanently disrupted the normal wizarding development. I don't really know."
"Okay, but what about Ginny?" he protested. "She was possessed by Voldemort."
She was glad that he was following this so well. "I'm not saying that everyone who has had these impulses interrupted will end up a Pure Adult. Ultimately, it always remains the person's choice to have sex or not. I'm not entirely certain whether the sixteen-year-old Riddle would have affected Ginny in that way or not, although it seems likely that he wasn't a virgin at that point, so it may well have. But the point is moot in her case, however, because she did choose to have sex before she turned seventeen.
"The same goes for Colin and Justin if just Petrification is enough. Maybe it's a cumulative effect, and you and I have been through a lot more than normal. On the other hand, we are the only two who used the Time-Turner at such a young age, so maybe that's the effect that's really debilitating. Either way, we, like Ginny, Colin, and Justin, still have the free will to decide whether or not we are going to have sex. We chose not to, while they chose otherwise."
"As simple as that?" he asked doubtfully.
She shrugged. "Muggle-raised wizards might be less predisposed to choose to have sex at a young age than those raised in wizarding households. Traditionally, witches and wizards are expected to have sex at a relatively young age. Many marry and start families much younger that they do in the Muggle world. Whether or not they are feeling any extra impulses, plenty of witches and wizards would likely carry out longstanding traditions. And remember how everyone reacted when Kingsley brought up the topic at the meeting—those urges are apparently really quite strong."
Harry smirked slightly.
"You and I, on the other hand, had those urges interrupted through some sort of temporal, mental, or physical mishap, don't have the traditional background that they do, and were in the middle of fighting a war against a madman. Maybe it could have been only one of those events, but in our case, it seems like all these events conspired against us and have landed us where we are. Much as I want to insist that Divination is a load of utter rot, you and I both know that there is a vast array of prophecies in the Department of Mysteries, and I wouldn't be willing to wager any bets on their being no such thing as Fate. We make our own choices, but we work with the hand which we are dealt."
Harry's lip curled and he teased, "Do I need to check you over for signs of Imperius? See if Trelawney got you in a dark corner somewhere and cursed you?"
"Don't worry," she reassured him, "I still think she's a charlatan ninety-nine point nine percent of the time. And I'm sure you don't want me to get into the whole 'self-fulfilling prophecies' kettle of fish. Shall we move on?"
He gestured expansively with his hands, indicating that she was free to continue.
"That's actually all I've got for that bit, really. We both also appear to have fallen for people that we weren't able to comfortably have our first time with earlier." Harry nodded, a faint trace of pink on his cheeks. "I'm not sure if that also speaks to our Muggle upbringing and a desire to make that first time 'special'. In that case, at least some of the other Muggle-borns likely felt the same way, and either their hormones overrode them, or they found their special someone early."
"Which goes back to your comment about witches and wizards marrying early, right out of school. And we've still got pure-bloods who are betrothed from birth."
She nodded.
He rolled his eyes. "At least we're not being married off at fourteen."
"But it does explain why the secret of Pure Adults wasn't well known," she pointed out. "Early marriages would have negated the issue for whole sets of witches and wizards for years. Those who remained unmarried might not have remained chaste, or they might have been Pure and we just don't know about the numbers because it was before it was logged at the Ministry. Unfortunately, at this point it's just idle speculation."
Harry grinned at her. "So basically we'll talk ourselves in circles all night unless we just accept that circumstances conspired, then and now?"
She half-shrugged, half-nodded. "There was nothing published that I could find about the last Pure Adult that Albus spoke of that indicated why she remained Pure. It's either been lost, or she had the sense not to say. Much as I laud the publishing of detailed information, even I won't be publishing my theories once this whole fiasco is over."
He nodded. "No giving anyone else any bright ideas."
"Exactly. One of the very old Black books gives more details about the Child Massacre that Albus referred to. It was over seven hundred years ago, and the wizard's name wasn't stated. The author wrote that he wouldn't give the man the satisfaction of being mentioned for posterity. It was the convoy of children going to Hogwarts that he attacked, and he took all the first-, second-, and third-year students: almost one hundred of them. He … disposed of those that weren't still virgins and as Albus said, ended up slowly killing off the rest."
Harry looked horrified. "He intended to keep all of them for years?"
"I guess getting them that young was the only way to ensure that many of them had the potential to become Pure Adults." She shook her head, trying to shake the mental images away. "The wizarding world was determined not to allow such a tragedy to occur again, and the information was obscured. I found only vague references in other books, with the Child Massacre described as a mass slaughter of the Hogwarts convoy without the real reason as to why. Pure Adults became a myth, and young witches and wizards were encouraged to follow their bodies' natural urges, further protecting them.
"Did you notice that it wasn't just Ron who thought Pure Adults were just a myth? Arthur, Molly, and Tonks thought so, too. Kingsley may well have done until he found out about that scroll. Albus knew about the last time it occurred, and at one time the Wizengamot made their ruling about it, but it's been successfully relegated to legend."
Harry was staring off into space, jaw tense. His voice was hard as he said, "So we would be responsible for Tom finding out, for the world finding out again."
She shook her head, pointing out gently, "It's already been logged at the Ministry, Harry. It's only a matter of time. Any furor that there might have been died down last time, and it will do so again." This had no impact, so Hermione continued, tone sharper, "Personally, I don't intend to let anyone, least of all Voldemort, tell me when to have sex, but if you want to go off and get it out of the way now, be my guest."
Green eyes snapped back to hers and creased suddenly with laughter. "You think I could use that explanation on Draco?"
Her expression softened. "Better?"
"Much. More tea?"
"More tea," she agreed.
They refortified themselves. Harry was staring at the mug in his hands when he said, "You said the evil bloke had a way to test the children."
She nodded. "The charm requires blood from the person being tested. There's no known way to test without the blood, which I would venture is our magic protecting us."
He sighed. "So at some point, someone's going to be after our blood."
"Unfortunately, yes. But I think I can work out a way to get our blood to give a false negative for virginity. Sort of like an internal Glamour. I would rather no one get our blood at all, but as a last resort, it might do. Totally illegal, of course."
"Let me know when you want to test it, and my blood is yours," Harry said with a grin.
She smiled back. "I think we'll also have to worry about Truth Serums. Not the minor ones, because if we can shake Imperius, those won't force us to say anything we don't want to, but I'm more worried about Veritaserum. Between Scrimgeour and Voldemort, I'd say they can acquire the potion with relative ease, and if it's slipped to us unawares, there's a good possibility we'd reveal important information before we could catch ourselves."
"But you have a solution," Harry said leadingly when she paused.
"I have a plan. First off, continuing to monitor food and drink whenever possible. There's an antidote, but there's no guaranteeing we'd have access to it in time." She got the rest of the words out there in a rush. "Isuggestwebuildupatolerance."
He blinked at her. "Sorry?"
"I think we should build up a tolerance," she repeated with a few more pauses between words.
"To Veritaserum," he said flatly, sitting up so that he was facing her fully.
She nodded.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you build up a tolerance by consuming increasingly large quantities over a period of time?" He sounded as though he knew quite well he wasn't wrong in his definition but couldn't understand how that could be right.
She nodded again.
His eyebrows rose towards his hairline. "You want me to voluntarily frequently consume Veritaserum?"
"I want you to become immune with me," she corrected. "Building up a tolerance is a very Muggle thing to do, apparently. Wizards have concentrated on the idea of an antidote, and they all know how strictly controlled Veritaserum is."
"So how would we get any?" he questioned.
She shot him a look.
"You've made some." His lip curled up, and he leaned back against the cushions again. "Of course you have."
"Professor Snape wrote a paper on the effects of its use over time. I made sure it would be safe," she hastened to assure him.
He sighed. "I'll probably regret asking this, but explain it to me."
She tucked her legs under herself on the couch and tried to arrange her thoughts to best get her point across to him. "Okay. When a dosage of Veritaserum is administered, it interacts with your body and your magic, compelling you to answer the questions you are asked, lowering your inhibitions and instincts of self-preservation, and forcing you to answer truthfully."
She paused to get a nod of understanding, and then continued, "If you're given too low a dosage, you can successfully fight the potion. The magical urge to tell the truth will still be there but in lessened form, so you may be able to resist it, especially in order to retain information that is important to you. In either case, once the potion breaks down, you no longer have to speak the truth.
"If the dosage you're given is too high, if you're lucky, you'll be comatose until the potion breaks down and is flushed from your system. If you're unlucky, it will poison you, and you'll die." Harry nodded again, face dark, and she remembered that Severus had threatened him with Veritaserum once upon a time. "When it comes to Veritaserum, dosage is standardized. It interacts with you and your magic, with factors like body weight not affecting the necessary amount of potion. A three-drop dosage is standard for wizarding adults. The two-drop dosage works for children from eleven through seventeen. Veritaserum is not to be administered to children under that age; their magic tends to be undeveloped enough to prevent a reaction, plus it's too easy to overdose them."
He looked understandably worried as he asked, "But you're sure you won't make us overdose?"
She nodded. "What I'm proposing is that we force our body to require a higher-than-normal dosage to be effective; we'll consume small portions of the potion day after day, slowly increasing the dosage as we find that we can tolerate it without adverse reaction. Eventually, we'll have the equivalent of a regular full dosage in us, but we've been nudging up our threshold, teaching our body and magic to interact normally even with a three-drop dosage of the potion in our system, so we'll still be able to lie."
"That sounds like it means that we'd still have to speak the truth at a higher dosage."
"Theoretically, someone could work out the correct dosage to use on us, yes," she conceded, "but they'd have to realize there was a problem. Everyone knows," she added with a grin, "that dosage for Veritaserum is standard and an overdose could cause death. Even in the unlikely event they worked out what we'd done, there'd be an extended period of trial and error to work out the correct dosage. I don't think anyone's going to do that. It'll work for many future situations, not just this one."
"And if it doesn't work like that?" he demanded.
"We'll abandon the plan," she assured him. "But I really think it'll work." Or so her Arithmancy calculations had suggested. Looking over at him, she shrugged. "I can do it myself, first."
He shook his head, a mischievous grin creeping up. "I think we'd better embark on this stupid plan together, 'Mione." He sighed. "We'll up the dosage only once we're in for the evening, then?" His eyes widened comically large. "After any training with Snape."
She laughed outright. "I'm not suicidal, Harry. Definitely after. And I'll have the antidote on hand in case we are called upon afterwards. Once we get the dosage figured out, I think we'll be fine."
"Famous last words, those," Harry grumbled. He shooed at her. "Go on, then. Get the bottle."
"What?" she asked, startled.
"Once we're in for the evening. Here we are. No time like the present, right?"
"Uh, right," she agreed and hastened to get the bottle.
They agreed to keep questions limited to their first year, to keep it non-threatening for both of them, and each consumed a quarter of a drop.
Hermione found that she could declare that her favourite professor was Binns, and Harry told her that he hated Quidditch and was mad for Potions. They giggled a bit wildly over this, and Hermione wondered if the relaxed inhibitions were going to be a bit more of problem than she'd anticipated in this friendly atmosphere. But they'd been able to lie, and that was the important aspect. They'd have to see if they reacted in the same manner tomorrow.
Since it was now quite late and they were meeting Severus at seven, they called it a night. They changed into their pyjamas and got ready for bed, and when they met a last time in the common room, Harry kissed her on the cheek and thanked her for all the research she had done on his behalf. She blinked in surprise but hastened to reassure him that it was no problem.
Climbing into bed, she reflected that maybe her worry about inhibitions had been premature. If it could get Harry to relax a little, it would be all to the good.
It didn't take her terribly long to fall asleep, but she was up by four. She felt the urge to visit the Forest, an incurable itch beneath her skin. It felt like much longer than two months since she'd last stood beneath its eaves, and she could wait no longer.