Outside looking in; that's where you'll always be…
It wasn't fully the truth—meaning, that they were all outside so it couldn't be the whole truth anyway. Where could she go in anyway? Her thought process didn't make any sense.
Of course, it never made sense when it came to Ron. Hermione watched him and Lavender with renewed animosity, just waiting for one of them to come back up for air, but they never reemerged, like they enjoyed sucking the life out of one another. That's what she meant with outside looking in—even being a part of Ron's life, she would never have Lavender's place. It made her sick, looking at him, so with a huff, Hermione replaced the book she had been reading back in her knapsack and struggled to fasten her red scarf against the wind. Harry watched her with nary a glance, finally engrossed with his terrible Potions essay that was due later that day. She had looked it over for him, but doing that had been all she could stand in such close proximity to such a disgusting display.
Shivering slightly with the wind, Hermione was grateful it wasn't snowing at the moment and made her way into the castle, frustrated with herself that she expected more out of Ron when he was completely preoccupied with other matters. "Or other women more like," she thought scathingly. It was so confusing. Sometimes she was absolutely angry with him; ready to tear him to shreds for another misfortunate misdeed, but lately (and far more frequently) Hermione was finding herself utterly devastated. If Ron hadn't noticed her by now, when would he?
"Oi, Hermione… You're a girl—"
So he had at least noticed she was the opposite sex, but that was two years ago, to a dance that he had to do the asking for. Maybe it was just hopeless. She was irritated she even allowed something as fickle as hope enter her mind. It besmeared even the happiness the Christmas trees evoked within; peppered around the interior of the castle, she passed them by almost without noticing they were there…
There was still Christmas to look forward to. Being away from Ron would probably do her some good. Christmas brought renewed hope, not anger or fear or dread. If this 'Lav-Lav' business kept up though, she was probably going to wring Ron's—
"Hermione!"
Someone was calling her name. She didn't need to turn around to see to whom the voice belonged. Harry must've abandoned that Potions essay. It truly was dreadful. She wondered how he had managed to pass the class all these years… Even with the help of the so-called 'Half-Blood Prince', it did little to help on his Potions theory and for that, Hermione secretly took great pleasure in how that was one aspect he would never do particularly well in.
Sighing and wishing in part she was alone (but wanting someone beside her nonetheless), she turned around and welcomed Harry's company gladly. She smiled at him, but it only seemed to confuse the boy before her. Had he noticed her run off after viewing Ron and Lavender's newest position? They hadn't been there when her and Harry had chosen the spot outside in the courtyard near the snowbanks. Maybe he had seen the reason why she walked away. Contrary to popular belief last year, Harry seemed to be rather sensitive about other people's feelings.
"You…You dropped your scarf back there," he said, holding it aloft while slightly out of breath. It would've been loads easier if she could just settle with the Boy Who Lived. That would really knock Ron's socks off, but Hermione didn't feel anything of the sort toward him. It was more of a sibling-like affection reserved only for Harry. Maybe that was the cause of Ron's escapades with Lavender? But no, it couldn't be…
"Thanks Harry," she breathed gratefully, taking the scarf from him. "My Mum knitted it, you know… It's pretty special to me."
"Hermione, are you alright?" Harry asked seriously. She could only smile in reply. Even without Ron prancing about the Common Room in a macho-like fashion with Lavender trailing behind, at least she still had Harry.
"Never better," she answered on a half-remembered impulse and together, she and Harry entered the Great Hall for lunch, never looking back to notice a figure trailing miserably behind them.
A/N: Just a one-shot I thought I would share... I wrote it for a competition and the requirements were something red, Hermione, and mentions of a celebration of some kind (yeahhh, I totally botched that one. :D) I think this could almost be a piece out of a whole fan-fiction. What do you think? I've been sick (food poisoning... *shudders*) so it would really make me feel better if you just reviewed. :D *gives away all her disgusting-looking candy*