"Well? Are you gonna tell us who it's from, then?" Ron enquired as Hermione took one last glance at the scrap of parchment before scrunching it within her fist.
"I don't know who it's from. And even if I did, Ronald, why is it any of your business?" She stood up from her chair and marched to the girls' dormitory, slamming the door behind her.
Back in the common room, Ron moved into the chair nearest Harry.
"Blimey. What's her problem? This is the third one of those notes she's had. She put one in her Potions book the other day when she thought I wasn't looking. She was reading it all through class – that's why she got that question about dragon's blood wrong."
Harry had noticed that Hermione hadn't been herself recently. Once you spend enough time with someone, you tend to notice that they've bought new clothes, that they're spending more time in their dorm or that they're suddenly, rather obnoxiously, playing with their hair in public. Ron hadn't seemed to have noticed the subtle changes in Hermione's behaviour, or the fact that she had been sending, and receiving, notes via owl for at least the last 3 weeks.
She also disappeared during lunchtimes and after school for 'extra studying' in the library. This 'studying' usually lasted around 4 hours – even on days when no homework was set. Hermione was organised. But not organised enough to complete homework before it had even been set.
"I was looking over her shoulder when she was reading the last one. It started 'to my little otter' and they signed it 'your stallion." Ron interrupted Harry's wondering thoughts. "Whoever fancies her isn't shy about it. Soppy git. Who does he think he is? 'Stallion?' Sounds like a right idiot to me."
'Dear, my Stallion,' Hermione began to write.
'I'm fed up of hiding from them, but they'll hate me if I tell them. This is getting really difficult for me. I still want to see you. Tomorrow, 5 o'clock in the astrology tower. I love you. I need you. Your otter.'
She was alone in the dorm, and, borrowing Angelina's owl as she had before on so many occasions, she attached the small note to its leg and watched it fly into the distance. She gulped as her throat became sore and tears began to well up in her hazel eyes. She breathed in, steadied herself and pushed forced herself to keep together.
This was going to be difficult.