A banal afternoon greeted the Hogwarts grounds. The lake rippled serenely, impervious to the depravities of life. The iron spikes of the ground permeated with green splashes. Wind surfed along the glorious slopes of the mountains. The sun smiled behind clouds. One resident, in particular, took advantage of the liberty.
None was too familiar with this liberty than Harry Potter.
Harry Potter, to be frank, was the very essence of trouble. His presence at Hogwarts was filled with chaos and turmoil. One that sparked discussion among the scandalmongers about whether or his presence should be welcomed or dismissed.
But whether they established a peace treaty or a declaration of war, Harry was impervious. In fact, this year, Harry remained untainted by the slightest plight or dilemma. Truthfully, the only trouble Harry experienced, as his eyes flickered dully to and fro, was that he had to finish reading a chapter on Human Transfiguration.
To Harry Potter, Hogwarts's renowned magnet for trouble, sixth year was one of his hardest years.
Exhaling, Harry continued, determined that he would finish the chapter before lunch. As he did, he afforded another distraction for himself: he had dropped his Quill. Patting his pockets, he looked around for his Quill and found it perched innocently on the armchair beside him. He leaned towards the chair beside him to reach towards his Quill. Settled and satisfied, he then resumed his position with his knuckles supporting his chin. Then, his attention faltering, he began to tap his Quill. Then, he clenched his eyes for a moment. Then, he rubbed his eyes. Then, he sighed once more.
Irresistibly, his eyes flickered about the unruly room. To his surprise, he spotted something that would be a nice distraction from whatever he was supposed to be doing now: Quidditch Through the Ages.
His conscious groaned.
He had to finish this damn book!
Consequently, he straightened up, furrowed his eye brows, and ducked his head and continued reading. A minute breezed by. He could hear the heavens snickering. The brooms flashed before his peripheral vision. Feeling the last bit of patience fade, Harry shouldered his Transfiguration book away to form a path for the entertainment.
A minute later, Harry was content. And dawdling wasn't an option.
But the teasing clock seemed to deceive him. Just as he had settled on his desired armchair, ready for his book, the Portrait had burst open.
Another distraction appeared.
Harry resisted the urge to groan.
From above the rim of his glasses, Harry watched as the Gryffindor approached. Oblivious to his mate's personal space, this Gryffindor tossed himself onto a couch and turned to Harry.
"We need to talk," Ron stated succinctly. Harry blinked from behind the book. For a moment, Harry rummaged through his mind in an attempt to decipher his mate's intentions, but he couldn't recall anything.
Harry shot him a questioning look
"About Hermione?" Ron said obviously, as if expecting Harry to be a Legilmens. But Harry furrowed his eyebrows. Had Ron finally confessed his feelings, then?
"Er―" Harry struggled. Should he complement Ron for a job well done? "Okay . . .?"
Ron furrowed his eyebrows. Harry wasn't following along.
"You do know what next week is, then, don't you?"
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Right. Quidditch tryouts," he sighed, growing uncomfortable with the topic. "'Course."
Ron looked taken aback, and Harry concluded that he was wrong.
"Well – yeah, but ― oh, come on, September nineteenth?" Ron pressed. But Harry frowned, feeling stupid. "Hermione? Can't you count?"
Harry scowled at the comment, but diverted his eyes to stare at the fireplace. Finally, his eyes widened, and he reverted his attention to Ron with an understanding look in his eyes. He caught sight of the grin tugging Ron's lip.
They silently agreed.
"Library?"
"Library."
And for the first time, without their third, the two males willingly raced towards the library, leaving the solemn books and Quills in solitary confinement.
Meanwhile, a bushy brown-haired young lady was diligently marching to the Common Room where she had left her good-for-nothing best friends. As she reached her destination, Hermione adjusted her mountain of books and prodded the Portrait open with her foot just before it slammed shut. With an annoyed look about her, Hermione Granger entered the room.
Her eyes narrowed at the obvious sign of her friends' carelessness. Her eyes sifted through her friends' tossed books, Quills, and parchments. Unable to comprehend her friends' lazinness, Hermione huffed and stomped up to her dormitory. There, she dumped a book or two, and with her rucksack over her shoulder, she began her search for the children.
And yes – children.
She thoroughly investigated the castle while pointedly avoiding the library. Of course they wouldn't be there. Not willing, anyway. After about a quarter of an hour, Hermione gave up. Deciding not to waste any more time, she sought comfort from the library. When she stepped in, she felt the familiar surge of pleasure crawl up her spine at the smell of books. For a moment, thoughts of Harry and Ron faded from her mind as she settled in her sanctuary.
Humming to herself, she approached the Charms sections with the intention of starting her essay. It was initially due on Tuesday, but Flitwick had reverted it to Monday. But she might as well start now. But as Hermione maneuvered around the bookshelves, she halted and stared. Her eye twitching irritably.
She found a flaw in the plan. in fact, the very thought of the essay was blown by a sharp needle, leaving remnants of the thought showering her rather bushy hair.
Her memory couldn't recall a time when Harry and Ron had willingly came in the library, especially when she wasn't there to prod them. The only time they did was during the Triwizard Tournament.
But that had been years ago.
Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she collected her materials and approached them, wary of attracting their attention. She lingered behind them. She watched with vulture eyes as they crossed something out on a parchment. Harry threw in some suggestions, and Ron nodded for approval.
Hermione, unable to connect the dots, interposed.
"What are you two doing?" she demanded austerely.
Merlin, if they were up to any trouble . . .
"Oh, hey, Hermione," Ron greeted her casually, tapping the Quill on the table. He was frowning, apparently deep in thought. He didn't even look at her.
Hermione was scandalized.
"How's Arthimaticy?" Harry greeted her likewise, levitating a chair for her to join them. Hermione frowned disapprovingly. Eager to converse about her studies, however, she surrendered and allowed the topic to deviate – for a moment.
"Oh, the usual," Hermione sighed, rummaging through her rucksack for her Charms textbook, "Professor Vector gave us loads of homework, mind you. I don't know if I'll be able to finish my Charms essay in time."
"Oh – come on," Ron interjected loudly, earning a few glares his direction. Of course, he remained oblivious. "You're Hermione Granger, you'll manage."
"Well, I don't know if I'll manage with you the two of you around," Hermione snapped, an image of the mess she had left in the Common Room teasing her eyes. Harry and Ron, however, glanced at each other knowingly before looking away, "Honestly, haven't you two managed anything productive since I've left? I suppose not. We've got a Transfiguration essay due tomorrow, the least you could've done was that."
"But we are doing something productive, Hermione," Ron interposed. Hermione, however, crossed her arms.
"And what's that?"
"Er―" Ron glanced helplessly at Harry, who shrugged in response. Ron glared at him and turned away, "Well, we're writing – er. . . our Transfiguration essay! Right. Let's start, shall we?"
He reached for his rucksack before suddenly realizing that he was reaching for thin air. Cursing, he stood up and sprinted back to the Common Room, leaving Harry vulnerable to Hermione's sharp glare.
"Er―" Harry cringed. He tripped on his feet as he stood up with a poorly concealed grimace. "Have a nice day, Hermione."
And he left.
Mornings later, an irritable lady tromped along the hallways on her way back from class. Furious, she glared at passing Portraits. Her bushy-hair bounced with each step. The people passing gave her strange looks as they could hear her muttering "absurd" or "idiots."
Weaving her way into the Great Hall, she found the usual sight of "idiots" eating, chewing, and taking notes.
For what?
The question was the cause for her irritation.
In summary, she had, quite frankly, been shoved to the side for the first time since she had befriended the "idiots." For the past week, they had hardly acknowledged her presence, her comments were ignored, and her lectures were met with exasperation (which wasn't peculiar, mind you).
But Hermione refused to let her emotions get in the way. Though, she failed miserably. She thought they were a "trio", not a "duo." She supposed that, after all her nagging and company, they had finally lost interest with her. Despite herself, she couldn't convince herself into joining them, especially when they were laughing and joking without her. Denying the lump in her throat, she chose a secluded spot by the doors and delved into the security of books.
But for the first time, they felt a bit – foreign.
As soon as she finished, she collected her materials and swept away, leaving two pairs of eyes following her out of sight.
Punctual to a fault, Hermione was first to arrive to class. Still irritable, she slammed her bag on the table and tossed herself onto the bench. Anxiously waited for class to start, she startled when two impressive shadows flooded her table. But she refused to glance at them. But the three stubborn. She finally surrendered and looked up, pushing her hair out of her face.
To her surprise, she was greeted by pleasant smiles.
"Hey, Hermione," they chorused.
And Hermione – being, well, Hermione - blamed her insecurity solely on stress, as she managed a weak smile.
"What happened to you at lunch?" Ron asked, frowning. "You were sitting on your own."
Hermione suppressed a sigh.
"I was managing something productive, Ron."
"And what's that? Studying?"
The flame was lit.
"Yes, Ron. Studying! Isn't that what you're in school for?"
"I'm in school because," Ron pointed at the feather part of the Quill towards Hermione, "my parents forced me into it. I could've stayed home, y'know, hired a tutor or something."
Meanwhile, Harry indulged himself into doodling on his parchment with only his eyes peeking from the fold of his arms.
"A tutor wouldn't teach half the stuff they teach at school! How're you going to learn the practical parts of Human Transfiguration or Charms or Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione debated, oblivious to Flitwick tapping his foot under the table, "You can't! There's a reason they're called experts―" Flitwick finally charmed books to reach the height of the desk with an irritated look about him, "Oh," Hermione squeaked, turning pink. The whole class was watching the scene. "Sorry, Professor."
The tiny Professor finally hopped down from his makeshift stool. Hermione tossed Ron a murderous glare. Irritated, Ron scowled back as they turned away from each other.
Harry, however, set coal to the flame. "Nice performance," he said, stretching his back and chuckling, "I'd pay for the drama."
He earned both a whack on the head and a comment spoken with "dramatic" of profanity that the owner to this comment received a whack as well. As the day swept past them, Hermione, despite her morning turmoil, found herself smiling and, rather guiltily, replying to their absurd gestures behind Flitwick's back. But she couldn't help it.
She had her friends again. Her slothful and reckless friends.
And as soon as she settled this notion, however, it trembled and collapsed abruptly on its pillars.
After class, they were on their way to their free class, with Hermione naturally accompanying them, when Harry and Ron suddenly appeared alarmed.
"Where d'you think you're going?" Ron frowned as he steered her by the shoulder. Hermione looked astonished.
"We're going to study, aren't we?" she asked, surprised.
"Study?" Ron asked, astounded. Placing a hand on her back, he guided her towards a corner of the corridor with Harry in tow. "No, no, no, not now. Harry and I," he gestured towards the subject, who waved weakly. "We've got stuff to do – er – on our own," Hermione narrowed her eyes, and he sighed, "Listen, why don't you head on up to the Quidditch field―?"
"And we'll be in library – if you need us," Harry finished with a grin, moving backwards. Ron laughed as he joined him. Chorusing "bye, Hermione" and with mutual grins, they left with their cloaks swishing behind them. With curiosity boiling, Hermione watched them depart with narrowed eyes, her mind fuming.
What were they up to?
With that enigma in tow, she proceeded towards her respectful Common Room with the thought anchoring her down. She silently vowed to herself that she would unravel their mystery, just as she had done with the Chamber of Secrets.
And Hermione Granger always kept her promises.
Settling down on a table, Hermione stowed any thoughts about Harry and Ron away and proceeded with her homework. As soon as she finished, she heaved her brown eyes away from her books to glance at the window.
She gasped.
It had been a while since she had contacted her parents.
Gathering her materials, she tucked them away to her dormitory and returned to the Common Room to write a letter. Satisfied, she signed it and exited the Common Room to the Owlery.
However, she encountered a slight predicament.
It seems she had unknowingly participated in an challenge. And Hermione Granger was known to blast a challenge to smithereens. As soon as she had turned the corner and had entered the Owlery, her eyes widened.
Again, they were standing with their backs towards her. She could only account a mop of messy black hair and his partner's flaming hair. It looked as if they were debating about something. The sight reminded Hermione of the kings of mischief: Fred and George.
Naturally, her hair fumed with electricity.
Furtively, adopting a skill from Ginny, Hermione snuck up behind them, simultaneously wishing she had "borrowed" Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Craning her neck to peer from behind their tall frames, she strained her eyes to see what they were arguing about.
She saw it was a parchment again.
Curious, she tried for a step closer. She nearly cursed when Harry, a perpetual habit of his, allowed his eyes to flicker about the room in thought. Hermione blinked when she locked eyes with him. But he absentmindedly looked away. She almost resorted to sighing in relief when Harry doubled back and caught sight of her again.
Hermione scowled when he elbowed Ron, looking half-amused and half-exasperated.
"Oh, come on," Ron started, chuckling. He turned to her, and Hermione caught sight of the parchment that he casually stowed away, "You aren't going to let this go, are you?"
Hermione crossed her arms.
"I want to know if you're doing anything illegal."
"Come off it―" Ron exclaimed.
But Harry cut him off.
"We aren't doing anything illegal, Hermione."
She glared at Harry.
"Well, how would I know that? You two've been keeping secrets from me for weeks," Hermione emphasized, her tone rivaling Molly Weasley's, "If you haven't been doing anything illegal, why won't you tell me about it, then?"
Silence.
Harry and Ron glanced at each other for a moment. Harry then stepped forward to steer her within the confinements of the Owlery.
"Look, Hermione, we'll tell you about it soon, okay? We just―we don't want you getting involved. It's nothing dangerous, mind you," he added hastily when Hermione opened her mouth to retort, "It's something we've got to do on our own, but I promise we'll tell you all about it soon," Hermione frowned but reluctantly let it slide. In the midst of her dismay, she missed the two exchanging parchments outside of her peripheral vision. "In the meantime, why don't you try riddling it out for yourself?"
Sighing, she mumbled.
"Fine."
He smiled naïvely.
However, Hermione snapped her head up. She caught sight of his smirk before it faded. Hermione, confident in his averted attention, glanced down when a parchment zoomed into her hand. With a mutual smirk, one that rivaled the devil's, she tucked it away into the security of her robes before presenting an innocent expression to her friends.
She waved their offer of company away, excusing herself with a letter to her parents. They nodded and swept out with waves, salutes, and a promise that they will meet her in the Common Room. Civilly, she bid them farewells. When she was confident that they had disappeared, she smirked and extracted the parchment from her pocket.
She had never been more grateful for their obliviousness.
Tearing open the parchment, feeling the last bit of sanity fade, Hermione relished in her moment of victory for a second - a mere second - for when she successfully unfolded the parchment, her insides boiled.
The letter read:
Dear Hermione,
Nice try.
Harry and Ron
With a cry of exasperation, Hermione sent the owls' howling, causing the creatures to hoot and even award her with a slap of waste on her shoulder.
Suffice to say, the meeting in the Common Room was tempting to become the third Wizarding war.
Later that night, with Hermione vowing her silence, she scribbled banal facts about Charms down on a parchment. She pointedly ignored the pleads and apologies from the idiots sandwiched between her on her armchair.
She didn't bother a glance. But their pleads were setting coal into the thirsty flame. Taking a leaf out of her parents' books, Hermione closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and counted to ten. Warily, she squinted open her eyes and huffed.
They were still there.
At last, she heard the two sigh and move to occupy themselves. Hermione sighed in relief. She had never felt as satisfied. She leaned back to rest her head comfortably.
Honestly, they deserved it.
"Hermione?"
Hermione blinked. She hoped that she wasn't dreaming. When she turned around, she caught sight of a half-amused, half-exasperated Ginny.
Hermione had never felt more grateful to see her.
Composing herself, Hermione straightened and greeted her welcomingly, not without shooting a glare at Harry and Ron. They were sitting on the other side of the Common Room. Reverting her attention to Ginny, she sighed and gave her a weak smile. Likewise, Ginny settled herself onto an armchair.
"Oh, hello, Ginny," Hermione sighed.
Ginny smiled in sympathy.
"Rough day?"
"Rough week," she emphasized in irritation. She shot a glare at the two again before reverting her attention to the red-head. The latter was fidgeting in her seat. "Thanks to those two. Honestly, I haven't a clue of what they're up to, and they wouldn't even tell me. I mean, it's not as if I'd tell the whole school about it."
"No, of course you wouldn't―"
"―or Dumbledore―"
"―not even him―"
"―then why―?"
"Listen, Hermione―"
"―and you!"
Hermione's eyes widened.
Ginny flinched.
"Er ― what?"
Her friend was nervous, which was peculiar to the usually bold red-head. Glancing back to Harry and Ron, she noticed that they were watching the scene from the corner of their eyes. Confident that she was still sane, Hermione shifted her eyes to the red-head.
"You–you tricked me!" Hermione accused, a scowl on her face.
Ginny, however, rolled her eyes. Honestly, Harry and Ron were fools if they thought getting past Hermione would work.
"Aright, they set me up, but Hermione―"
But Hermione stopped listening. She glared at Ginny and brought her book forward, thoroughly ignoring Ginny's existence.
"Oh – come on, will you just listen?"
Silence.
"Don't you want to know what they're planning?"
Hermione peeked up from the cover of the book. But at Ginny's smug look, she scowled and brought the book back in front of her face.
"All I want to know, is how I'm going to finish my Potions essay for tomorrow. And shouldn't you be worrying about your OWLs?" Hermione reproved, "They're this year!" Ginny shook her head in defeat and stalked away.
Meanwhile, Harry and Ron watched Ginny grimace their way, mouth a dry "good luck," and disappear. Stumped into silence, the two avoided the other's gaze and instead immersed themselves in their studies. On the other hand, Hermione muttered incessantly under her breath without the slightest attention to her studies.
Later that day, a touching scene greeted the night owls of the Common Room, with Harry and Ron prominent in this role. Glancing at each other, they furtively approached the dozing Hermione, wary of startling her. But the sight dismayed them to say the least. They were ready to reveal their secret.
But now, they had to wait until morning.
Adjusting a pillow, Harry guided her head onto the couch to make her position more comfortable. Ron tended to her feet and removed the herd of parchments and books dispersed throughout the couch. They topped it off with a transfigured blanket. On stealthy toes, they left a stray on the small table in front of her and left, yawning silently.
When Hermione woke the next day, she yawned and rubbed her weary eyes, reluctantly shoving her blanket away. But she froze. To her bewilderment, she was still wearing her school robes and the sun hadn't quite emerged yet.
She assumed that she had fallen asleep on the couch, catching sight of her belongings on the table. She knew who had tended to her, and she felt the grudge fade slightly.
Glancing at her watch, she still had time to finish her essay. But when she reached for the wrong book, she frowned
Hermione blinked. Beside her belongings, she found a parchment attached to a – box? She wasn't sure. Grabbing the parchment first, she unrolled it.
Sblinked once, twice - thrice! even - at the message.
Dear Hermione,
Happy birthday! Sorry for the trouble.
Your friends,
Harry, Ron
Her eyes widened. Her clever mind struggled to make sense of the situation. However, the effort was futile. A flood of emotions crossed her as she opened the seal to the package. Inside, she saw that it was a book.
Much to her irritation, her lips trembled when she read the title:
The Irks and Wonders of Friendship
By the time Harry and Ron had descended the stairs, wrapped with gloves, scarves, and hats, Hermione had already finished the book. They approached her warily. But she snapped her head up, elicited a watery smile and wrapped her arms around them.
Harry and Ron looked bashful. She whispered "thank you", and pulled back. Ron, feeling the atmosphere was a bit too emotional, couldn't help but interpose.
"You're not still mad, are you?"
And he achieved when Harry shook his head and Hermione laughed.
"Happy birthday, Hermione."
A/N: Hope ya enjoyed it. This story has been edited.