Headaches
by : epiphanies
She gets headaches sometimes. Not like the ones Harry gets, or the aches that Ron gets in his hands, or the ones Ginny suffers from getting knocked out by having so many brothers.
She had a headache today. One that let her stay away from classes for the first time in five whole years. One that was eating away at her eye sockets and bleeding her insides. One that was ploughing a gong in her brain. She snuggled into her bed covers and sniffed when there was a knock at the door.
"Who is it?" she grumbled, and she heard Ginny.
"It's me."
She groaned, "Make it laconic."
Ginny opened the door and gave her a quizzical smile.
"Make it brief, please," Hermione sighed in translation, "Even the scuffle of one's shoes is making my head pound today."
Ginny gave a silent giggle, then whispered, "Somebody is here to talk to you."
Hermione's eyebrows knit together, "Who?"
Ginny only bit her lip, "He's waiting downstairs in the common room."
"It's not somebody from Gryffindor, is it?" she whined, attempting to sit up in her tangled sheets, "Because if it is and they're making me get up for no good reason-"
She was secretly hoping she would find Ron at the bottom of the stairs with a bowl of chicken noodle soup, but she dared not tell Ginny that.
Ginny tossed Hermione's hairbrush to her and leaned on the doorframe, "Just brush that through once. Otherwise you look lovely."
"I'm sure," Hermione rolled her eyes as she stumbled out of bed and slipped her clean robes on over her pajamas.
They left her room and started down the stairwell when she heard a distinctly familiar voice coming from behind a chair that was facing opposite to her. Ron was sitting sulkily toward the person in the chair, and Harry was smiling lopsidedly, glancing between Ron and the occupant. Hermione's eyes widened and she touched her forehead lightly.
She walked over to the chair and looked down to see exactly what she had been dreading-
"Hermy-ony!"
She was grabbed in a quick hug and the wind was knocked out of her.
"Steady, Viktor," she rolled her eyes as he pulled back with a grin, and subsequently seeing her frazzled look, one of concern.
"Hermy-ony, are you ok?" he touched her arm gently, and she raised her eyebrows at him, swaying a bit drunkenly (although she had never been drunk in her life.)
"I'm perfectly fine," she smiled gratingly, looking over at Ginny for help. Unfortunately, she was too engrossed in conversation with Harry to notice her plea, as was Harry.
As Viktor fawned over her, she tried to stay as physically far away from him as possible. After all, writing letters and actually being physically close were two very different things.
Imagine what would have happened had you gone to Bulgaria that summer, she reminded herself. She glanced at Ron, whose face was turning more scarlet by the minute. Viktor was watching her, so she could do nothing to let him know the ultimate and unwanted surprise of this visit.
She thought frantically what to do, and she could think of nothing.
"Um," she interrupted him in the middle of a speech about how her hair was 'every so lovely' (she refrained from correcting him for the difference of 'every' and 'ever.')
"Viktor," she smiled sincerely, "I do appreciate this visit."
He nodded eagerly, putting his hand on her knee. Her eyes went as wide as saucers as she took in the action. She wouldn't look at Ron as she went red in the face.
"However," she continued in a shaky voice, "I've been having a bout of the flu, so I really don't think that I should be around you-"
"Nonsensical rubbish, that is," Ron muttered furiously under his breath as he whipped past them to stalk upstairs to his dormitory.
"Viktor," she said in a clipped, new voice, whipping her head around to watch Ron's rapid exit, "Please don't touch my knee like that."
She heard the footsteps cease. Viktor stared at her.
"Vatevery do you mean, Hermy-ony?" he said in a rough voice, and she held her tone.
"I do not wish for you to sit this close to me."
"But-!" Viktor cried out, standing up in an outrage, "Our letters!"
"Our friendship," she corrected, standing up also and swaying a moment, "I've never been interested in you like that, Viktor. I told you that in fourth year. I thought you understood."
"Vat is this?" Viktor was shouting now, and Hermione began to back away. Her heel caught on something and she started to fall backward-
"Watch your step," muttered Ron in her ear, setting her up straighter than she had landed in his arms. He let go of her and stepped in front, facing the Bulgarian.
"Vat are you doing now?" Viktor eyed Ron in annoyance, and Ron glared at what he had considered his enemy for nearly two full years.
"She doesn't want to talk to you anymore, Vicky."
Hermione actually felt a bit of a giggle, and wanted to sing a song. She closed her eyes in the delusional delight of being defended and didn't open them until she heard the
SMACK!
Ron ricocheted above her with the strength of Viktor's punch. She gasped and ran over to Ron, who sputtered and got immediately back on his feet.
"Don't hold me back, Hermione," he hissed at her, but she pushed him back down on the ground easily. (Viktor was a big guy, after all, and he was winded.)
"Stay here," she instructed. She then turned on her heel and marched right up to Viktor.
"Apologize to Ron."
Viktor smirked at her, "Is that what this is about? That?"
She glared at him, "No. It's about me not wanting to see you. Get out of here, Viktor, or I'll get Dumbledore."
He watched her for a moment, and then headed for the common room doorway.
He turned before he left, brown eyes ablaze.
"You'll regret this, Hermy-ony."
She laughed and put her hands on her hips.
"No, Vicky. I don't think I will."
Ginny sent a spell over to an armchair that obligingly caught Hermione in her collapse. She sighed and fluttered her eyelids as Ron appeared above her.
"Hello," she said dreamily, and he smiled at her.
"You called him Vicky," she heard him say in delight, and that made her giggle. Everybody started to giggle...
-
She awoke hours later in her dormitory with a stiff neck. She blinked into the sunlight streaming into the chamber, and sat up straight.
She marched down the staircase into the empty common room, through the Fat Lady's entranceway, down four corridors and five oak doors, and stepped into the Great Hall wearing little more than a red flannelette nightgown. She flopped herself down beside Ron and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Thank you," she smiled at him, and he smiled back.
She then caught Professor McGonagall's eye, who looked to be heading toward her table, and her eyes went wide.
"I'd better get back to the dormitory," she whispered, ready to make a quick exit. Ron stopped her running as she was halfway across the dining hall.
He grabbed her hand.
"How's your headache?"
She smiled wearily, looking over his shoulder to Professor McGonagall, who was quickening her pace.
"I should go-"
She was cut short by a quick pressing on her lips, which she quickly realized was a kiss. She blushed as the entire Hall (save the Slytherins) erupted into catcalls and applause. She laughed and leaned over to whisper to him,
"Gotta run."
With another swift kiss to his cheek, she was only a streak of crimson lining the corridors back to the common room. Professor McGonagall didn't bother to follow her. She told a very happy Ron, in an exasperated voice,
"Weasley, make sure she's in class tomorrow."
He nodded and made his way back to the table, feeling better than the last round he'd ever heard of 'Weasley Is Our King.'
-
The End.