As Ron and Hermione climbed the stairs that would lead them to Dumbledore's office, both were lost in thought. Ron still couldn't quite grasp what had possessed Snape to use Ligimens to get into Hermione's mind. If Snape had answered Hermione's questions, Ron was almost positive that she would have told Snape anything he wanted to know—provided that his answer was satisfactory. But the real mystery in Ron's mind was not Snape's actions; rather it was those of Hermione. She had blatantly refused to answer questions posed by a teacher and Hermione had never done that without a reason.
Hermione hadn't been surprised by Snape's actions at all, however, but was now contemplating the importance of the black book her father had left her. There had been a note scrawled on the inside cover but she had skipped over it having, at the time, been more interested in the contents of the book. After what had transpired in the dungeon, that message seemed to be more important than Hermione had reasoned. Luckily she had grabbed it before Ron managed to drag her from the classroom mumbling about going to go to Dumbledore. Maybe it was a good idea, Hermione thought, Dumbledore always seemed to know the answers, and she could bounce her ideas off of him.
When the reached the stone gargoyle, Ron realized he had not the slightest idea what the password would be. Before he could start his process of guess and check, Hermione rushed, "Hot Tamales."
"Wha-?" Ron began, but stopped as the gargoyle sprang to life and the spiral staircase began its accent toward Dumbledore's office. He had momentarily forgotten that Hermione was Headgirl and was therefore entitled and obligated to know the password to the Headmaster's office incase of emergency.
"Not now." Hermione said, noting Ron's open mouth. The only thing on her mind was getting to Dumbledore and finding the answers to her questions. As she raised her hand to knock on the door, Dumbledore's voice rang out, "Come in Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley."
Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, sheaves of paper strewn across its surface, looking expectantly at both students. "Please, sit." He said while gesturing toward a grouping of four chairs that faced his desk. As they sat he questioned, "What, may I ask, is the reason for this fairly late visit?"
Ron's mouth was just starting to form a word when Hermione rushed, "We just left detention with Professor Snape, which is why it's so late. Sorry about that, but I think what I have to ask is really important. It's about the Book of Rancidity."
Once the words 'Book of Rancidity' had left her mouth, Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up. "How did you come to hear of that book?" he said, his voice sounding suddenly clipped and urgent.
Ron, who had been a little disgruntled at being cut off and slightly bewildered by Hermione's casual dismissal of the very professor who had just tried to force an answer out of her, noticed the change in Dumbledore's demeanor almost as quickly as Hermione.
"So it is and important book." She said, though whether she was talking to herself or to Dumbledore was a mystery. "Why?"
Dumbledore smiled crookedly at how easily Hermione had come to the deduction that the book was important, simply from his tone. "Miss Granger, there are many reasons why the book could be important, but I must first know how you came to hear of it."
Looking down at the book that was now situated in her lap, then glancing up at Dumbledore, Hermione began, "Well, I had never heard of it until Ron and my detention with Professor Snape."
Before she could continue, Ron interrupted exasperated, "HOW can you say his name so casually Hermione? Snape just tried to get into your head." Tapping the side of his head to emphasize his point, Ron then turned to Dumbledore and continued, "He tried to used Ligimens Professor! He was trying to force her to tell him about the book!"
"Please calm down Mr. Weasley." Ron blushed, but Dumbledore continued on, "You're saying—if I'm not mistaken, Professor Snape just tried to enter her mind to get information about the book?" At Ron's nod, he turned to Hermione and said, "Did he succeed?"
"No Professor. He managed to get through only a few memories before…" she paused as the memory of last night came flooding back to her, the very memory she had stopped Snape from seeing.
When Ron had agreed to stay the night with Hermione, her heart felt as though it was about to take flight, despite all that had happened. She had been sure he was going to say no. But he hadn't, she elated. As he walked into the bathroom to change, Hermione hastily changed into an old, huge, worn out t-shirt—it was so large she hadn't needed to wear pajama bottoms with it unless it was to cold to go without. Since Ron was sharing her room, however, she decided it would probably be best to where a pair of shorts. She, at least, would feel more comfortable that way.
"Ok," she said once she had changed. "You can come out now."
Ron stepped out of the bathroom as she was prepping her bed for the evening. He watched with bemused interest as he watched her carefully take of the decorative pillows and set them into a neat pile on the floor, and as she tidily folded down the comforter and sheet. His eyes had followed her unconsciously graceful, yet efficient movements until she turned her tear-streaked face toward him. The bemusement in his eyes had vanished almost instantly. So much had happened to her tonight, so many revelations had transpired, that all the humor vanished from the scene.
Hermione saw the smirk vanish from his face like it had merely been an illusion, an illusion replaced by a reality of sadness and uncertainty. Worriedly and now suddenly close to tears, Hermione asked the first question that had repeatedly popped into her mind since he had read the letter. "You aren't going to leave me, are you?" she strained to say.
Realizing he had apparently set off her uncertainty again, he quickly moved toward her and embraced her. As he hugged her, he whispered, "I would never leave you Hermione. I'll always be your friend." He gripped her tighter as he felt her shake with a new wave of tears, their wet warmth soaking through his shirt. "Shhh. It's going to be ok. I'm not going anywhere. Shhh." Soothingly rubbing her back and whispering reassurance, Ron began to think of how he wished he could be more than just her friend.
He wanted to be so much more than that—he wanted to be her everything, just like she was everything to him. He wanted to be with her all the time. He wanted to be able to tell her everything he was feeling and all the worries he had, and have her trust him enough to do the same. He wanted her to love him like he loved her.
But it couldn't be, he thought, mentally shaking himself. Friends would be how they would always remain because she would never feel that way about him. She would never want them to be anything more. As he gently guided her into a sitting position on her bed, he began to pull away, hoping to build a makeshift bed on the coach he had seen settled in a corner of her room. Surely she hadn't meant that she wanted him to sleep in her bed with her. She had probably just been too distraught to be thinking clearly. He was impaired from withdrawing further, however, when Hermione's grip tightened.
"It's ok, 'Mione. I'm just gonna make a bed on that coach." He started, but the tears she had almost stopped began to flow full force again. Exasperated, Ron asked, "What? What is it 'Mione?"
"You—you said—that you would—would stay with me." She sobbed.
"I am. I am." He reassured, but he felt her head shaking back and forth and realized his mistake. "I just thought that you hadn't really wanted me to sleep with…" Ron's ears turned bright red as he realized what he had almost said. "To sleep in your bed." He revised. Knowing that either way it was put, the question Hermione had posed earlier was still rather embarrassing to her, so to keep her from having to suffer further embarrassment, he heightened his own. "I really don't mind. Sleeping…" his ears turned a deeper red. "Sleeping in your bed is fine, I just wanted to make sure you were ok with it."
Now feeling more humiliated than he had ever felt in his life, Ron was greatly relieved when Hermione whispered brokenly. "I wouldn't have asked if I hadn't wanted you to."
"Ok then. Let's get you into bed then." He said in a rush as he gently pulled away, pulling the sheets down so she could slide under them. After tucking her in, he walked around and climbed into the other side of the bed. Hermione whispered 'nox' to extinguish the candles that had been burning, set her wand on the nightstand, and slowly moved her hand into Ron's, clinging to it as if it were her last lifeline. He squeezed it reassuringly. Leaning toward her, he whispered, "Good night, 'Mione."
"Good night Ron." She whispered back, feeling content for the first time in what seemed like an eternity until she drifted off into a peaceful slumber.
Ron simply watched her in the shadowy glow cast by her dieing fire, until he was sure she had fallen asleep. Leaning close to her face, he brushed some of her hair back with his free hand. Rubbing his thumb across her cheek, he whispered even more quietly than before, "I'll never leave you, my love," then leaned down and kissed her forehead before drifting off to sleep.
The memory brought a slight smile to Hermione's lips. Ron hadn't known she wasn't quite asleep yet, and Hermione wasn't about to dim the bright memory by asking him about it. Calling her 'my love' and kissing her forehead had shot Hermione's heartbeat into a rapid pounding and erased all doubt in her mind that Ron would ever abandon her. The hope of love and companionship had shined bright and beautiful like a lighthouse by the sea of darkness and tragedy that had been threatening to sweep her up in a powerful storm, out to sea and lost forever.
Knowing, however, that now was not the time to dwell on her and Ron's relationship, Hermione quickly regained focus. "…before I stopped him." She finished.
Nodding his understanding, Dumbledore waited silently for Hermione to continue. "Professor," she continued, "he then asked me if I had brought the book. It confused me though because it had been sitting right in front of me at the time. He told me however, that it was Hogwarts: A History, not the Book of Rancidity. I reassured him that it was indeed the book, but he didn't believe me."
Dumbledore saw the unasked questions swimming around in her eyes, but didn't feel he could answer them quite yet—not without a bit more information. "Miss Granger, did you actually call the book by name when you showed it to him? No?" Hermione had been shaking her head. "Then, if my suspicions are correct, the book must have an enchantment on it. An enchantment that is quite close to those used by Secret Keepers and the families they protect. You, Miss Granger, are quite possibly the Secret Keeper of the Book of Rancidity." As he paused, Ron and Hermione both started to speak, but held their tongues when Dumbledore raised his hand. "That means that until you directly tell someone the name and location of the book, they can only form dead-ended conclusions about both." Noting their confusion he continued, "That is to say, I suspect the book in front of you to be the Book of Rancidity, but as you have not confirmed either way, I can not see it for what it really is."
Silence ensued as each Ron and Hermione let his words sink in. Ron now understood why the book had looked like Hogwarts: A History to himself as well as Snape. Hermione however, was adding more questions to those she already held.
"Professor, if I were to say I had the book and showed it to you or anyone else, would they be able to let anyone else see it?" Hermione asked.
"No they would not."
"Ok, but would they be able to use it?"
"There is that possibility, yes."
"What is supposedly held within the book, sir? Or do you know?"
Dumbledore paused, seeming to think out his answer before he gave it. "The book has been said to be naught but a legend. Rumor claimed it was created hundreds of years ago by the most powerful wizard of that time—Merlin. I see that surprises you Miss Granger, as you have probably heard of him even in the muggle world, but back then, the separation of our worlds was not quite so apparent. Many, witch, wizard and muggle alike, had heard of his great power."
"Unlike the, as muggles would call them, fairytales would have you believe, Merlin was not among the most wholesome of wizards. Power can do that to a person. It drives out all that had once been good with in them and allows hate and evil to rampage. Supposedly, Merlin had taken to writing this book, the Book of Rancidity, before he had gained much of his power. The title was not his own, but had been given to the book years and years after when the book had fallen into the wrong hands and terrible things were unleashed. You may have heard of the Bubonic Plague. It was rumored that the person who had come into possession of the book had recited one of its more sketchy incantations, hoping to punish an old enemy for a past wrong. That owner was said to die of the plague as well, and the book was passed on and on through the decades—though no one was ever sure if it really existed."
Ron cut in, despite his shock at the information he was receiving, "But Professor, what happened to Merlin? What did he supposedly write in the book?"
Serenely smiling, Dumbledore continued, "The death of Merlin has never been confirmed or denied. Some believe he is still alive, where as others believe him to be long since dead. I would think, upon current evidence, those believing him to be dead are correct. As for the contents of the book, only those who possess the book or who are revealed the book can tell you for sure. It is said to be a mixture of good and evil, of war and peace, and of hate and love—all that is revealed by the book is determined by the reader and, once again rumored, by the atmosphere around the reader. If evil, war and hate are sought or prominent, the book will show the spells and incantations likely to further that path. It works the same way with good, peace and love."
"How is that possible Professor?" Hermione questioned. "Shouldn't the book show everything that was written? And if Merlin really was such a bad guy, how could there be more than hate related spells?"
"Enchantments can be placed on the book Miss Granger. And I never said that Merlin was always a bad guy. Power, I believe, had made him that way. As he continued to discover his strength, the ability to be able to control any situation as he saw fit and to make others conform is what I think turned him. This also explains how he could have sought to discover multiple categories of spells."
"As time moves on, and as well you know, rumors have been known to be altered. It is possible, in my opinion, that none of this information is true, especially about the next part I wish to divulge. However, before I go on, I feel it is imperative we get Professor Snape up here as well as your friends, Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley. What I have to say may or may not prove relevant until I know more information." Sweeping himself up into a standing position, Dumbledore towered over them before saying, "I do believe you will stay here until I get back?" He said without waiting for an answer then strode out of his office.
AN: So, how do you like it? I have the next chapter (or two—maybe) planned, but don't expect it out very quickly since school has started again and I don't know how much time I'll have.