Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I really wish I did...God, who could handle all that attention!? Good thing ol' JK's there to do it for us, huh? Anywho. There's my lovely disclaimer, as is necessary when writing fanfic.

ONE

"HERMIONE"

Hermione stood in front of the mirror, one hand steadying herself on the counter as the Hogwarts Express rumbled on toward its destination. She had slipped into the lavatory on the train nearly as soon as they had boarded, she still hadn't run into Harry or Ron. Her hair still hung in the unmanageable brown tendrils of someone cursed with hair that never seems to be wavy or curly, but somewhere in between. She pushed it behind her ears, thankful at least that her fringe had finally grown out. She checked the lock on the door for nearly the third time, then pulled a small bag out of her pocket and dumped it on the gently swaying counter beside the sink.

Out of the bag tumbled a tube of mascara, a pot of rouge and a small gold case in which lay red lipstick. She pulled out the lipstick and applied it in light swipes to her lips that she was careful to pout like the girls in her dormitory had shown her. She capped the lipstick, then looked at herself. It did nothing for her, and she felt guilty touching the stuff. She would leave makeup to the likes of Pansy Parkinson and the rest of the sniveling Slytherin girls. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand in rough swipes, the lipstick forming like blood on her pale skin.

When she was content none remained, she looked at herself again and sighed the sigh that only someone like her would understand. The sigh of a girl who has come to terms that she will never look like the ideal young woman of her age, which was seventeen. She felt ashamed, too, as she stuffed the cosmetics into their bag and back into her pocket. She thought she was above something like makeup, yet there was that gnawing inside of her that made her wish she was beautiful.

A sharp rapping at the door interrupted her thoughts. Hermione smoothed out her skirt, careful to straighten her pleats then unlocked the door and stepped out. Ginny Weasley stood there, a smile on her face when she saw the familiar face.

"Hermione!" she chirped, gathering her in a hug that Hermione barely had time to respond to before she was pulled out of it.

"Hey, Ginny."

"Have you seen Harry, yet?" Ginny asked, her brows furrowing.

Hermione shook her head. "No, not yet. Sorry, Gin."

Ginny shrugged. "It's fine. I'll track him down."

"I'll let you know if I find him."

Ginny smiled again and with a wave retreated into the lavatory and shut the door. Hermione made her way through the train cars, peering into the little closed off rooms, hoping to find Harry and Ron who were undoubtedly already gabbing away about Quidditch or something. She found them tucked near the back of the train, across the aisle from another cabin containing a few nervous looking first years. Hermione slid the door open and let herself in, watching their faces as they turned to look her. She shut the door behind her and moved to sit near the window beside Harry, pushing his cloaks aside to make room.

"You found us!" Ron said with a grin, pushing his shaggy hair from his forehead. It seemed to become more askew as the day went on, and rattier, though Ron would never part with it.

"Yeah," Hermione with a return smile to both of them.

Harry clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Sorry I didn't keep in touch as much as I should've..."

She shrugged off his hand. "It's fine. I was busy myself, as you both know."

"Yeah," Ron nodded, "Staying in Bulgaria for a month and all."

Harry laughed, suddenly. "You meet up with Krum?"

Ron bit his lip to hold in his laughter as he turned crimson and Hermione spun on Harry.

"Don't talk about Krum, ok?" she snapped.

Hermione hadn't kept in touch with Viktor Krum much after their fourth year and the topic still made her wince. Harry squeezed her shoulder as Ron composed himself.

"Sorry, Mione." He muttered.

"Anyway..."Hermione said, "I ran into Ginny as I was coming out of the lavatory."

"Did you?" Ron asked, his mouth twisting into an unpleasant shape.

"Yeah, she mentioned you, Harry. Wondered where you were."

"She did?" Harry asked, looking hesitant.

"Yes. She did. I told her I would tell you I saw her."

"Oh."

"Bloody hell! You think she could shut up about him for one-"

"Ron!" Hermione cried. "It's fine! Leave her alone."

Harry turned an awkward shade of purple and dug out a book that he promptly shoved his head into. Ron grumbled something under his breath and pulled out a bag of Chocolate Frogs that he popped rapidly into his mouth, clamping tight fingers about their enchanted bodies.

Hermione sighed and gazed out the train window, the hills and grass flying by in a blur of green and brown. Thinking of Ginny put her in a foul mood. It wasn't that she disliked Ginny; in fact, she was still very close with Ron's younger sister and enjoyed her company in the stead of the boys sometimes. It angered her, though, how easily Ginny had become beautiful. She had always shared the common red hair and freckles of the rest of her siblings, yet in the past year she had blossomed into a gorgeous young woman with wavy coppered locks that fell halfway down her back. Her freckles just added to her heart shaped face, and mascara and liner only accentuated her already beautiful eyes. Harry was lucky, really, to have a girl like her falling head over heels for him.

Hermione pursed her lips against the thoughts and instead watched Ron as he watched out the window. His hair was still a shaggy red mess, but it hung down into his eyes in a delicate manner. His numerous freckles had somewhat faded and there was only a sprinkling left over his nose and cheekbones. He was beginning to grow sideburns down the side of his cheeks, and a stubble spotted his cheeks and chin where it was evident he had skipped a day shaving. It was strange, really, watching her friends change into adults. Harry too had grown considerably, nowhere near Ron's six foot two height, but he was nearing six feet . His shoulders had broadened and even though he was not related to Sirius Black, ever since Sirius had died, Harry had begun to sprout his wild, unkempt look that drove many Gryffindor girls wild.

Ron looked up and caught Hermione's gaze with a look of surprise. "What're you staring at?" he asked.

Hermione broke eye contact and stared out the window. "Nothing," she muttered.

As Ron stared at her for a moment more, the door slid open, causing the cabins occupants to turn and stare at a glowing Ginny Weasley, her hands resting on either sides of the doorway. "Harry!" she beamed.

Harry looked up from his book, pushing his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. "Er, hey, Ginny."

"I've been looking for you everywhere! You've just got to come see what Alyxandra Peterson's gotten from America!"

Harry glanced over at Ron and then at Hermione, who had a smile glued on her face and motioned for Harry to go. He rose to his feet, leaving his book on the cushioned bench. "Be back soon, guys."

As Ginny disappeared into the hall, Harry turned around and mouthed a sorry in Ron's direction who was scowling at the ground. He slid the door shut behind him and soon he was gone. Ron made a guttural sound and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What's the matter, Ron?" Hermione asked low.

"What's the matter? Bloody hell, Hermione! My sister's lusting after my best friend, that's what's the matter!" he shot back.

"Ron," she said gently, "Ginny's crushed on Harry since we were first years. You should be used to this."

"I know," he moaned. "It's just that, well, it's getting old. Ever since Harry's thing with Cho bombed, he's been so bloody weird with girls. And, well, she's my sister! She can't date my best friend!"

"Ron..." Hermione placed her hand on Ron's wrist and caught his gaze.

He looked back at her with a hurtful glance. She could tell how much it bothered him. Despite how many times he aggravated her to the brink of madness, Hermione had always felt there was something more to Ron than continuous irritation. And here it was again, that annoying little tick at the back of her brain, feeling so sorry for him.

"Please don't lecture me, Mione."

"I won't. I just wanted to say that if you ever wanted to talk, or something, I'd be here."

He met her gaze again and flashed a brief smile of thanks. "Thanks for the offer."

"Don't mention it," she said, pulling her hand from his wrist, and replacing it in her lap.