A/n: This is the only Author's Note and Disclaimer I'm doing. I don't like having to type it up in every chapter, so here's the deal: this is just a story I thought up. My friends and I were joking around and I got the idea. I think it's pretty funny. Who knows? It may be a hit! Oh well.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. They belong to the one, the only, J.K. Rowling. The plot's mine, though. Take it and face my furry wrath!
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Chapter 1
"Ronald Weasley! I can't believe you just did that!"
"So what?" The redhead grumbled. "What're you, another one of his fan girls or something? Face it, Hermione; he gets enough of this crappy mail in the first place! You really think he'll take his time to answer this one?"
"Yes," Hermione said smartly. Ron was at a loss for words.
Seventh year. What a pain. It was their last year at the school they called home and all they could think about doing was bickering to no end. It made you think they were married or something.
Hermione Granger, seventeen, was bushy-brown haired and chocolate eyed. She was the study-bug of the two. She knew Hogwarts from front to back, tallest tower to the darkest, lowest level of the dungeons. She could tell you why thesterals were invisible to only those who hadn't witnessed death as well as why grindilows had long, spindly fingers.
Ron Weasley, also seventeen, was the exact opposite in every way. He had long red hair and a blue coloration to his eyes. This boy was probably the worst at studying, and he was always coming up with ways to tick off Hermione. Still, they were both friends, despite their differences, however many there might be.
"Heard from Harry?" Ron said hotly, changing the subject almost immediately.
"Yes," Hermione said, not bothering to even glance at him. "He said they were still trying to figure out what really did happen to Sirius. Still, it's a bit odd that he had to stay at Grimauld Place. I really do think he should finish his studies."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, give it a break, Hermione. All you ever think about is studying and that jerk Krum. Shut your books and live a little, will you?" Hermione remained silent. Run shrugged. "Fine then. Do what you want." With that, he trudged out of the Great Hall, leaving Hermione with a pile of ashes that used to be a letter to one Viktor Krum.
-
"Hey, Ron!"
"Hey, Seamus. How's it going?" Ron flung himself onto one of the maroon-covered armchairs in the Gryffindor Common Room. Seamus Finnegan, another Gryffindor boy of the same age and year, sat near the fire, doing little spell and charms on a feather.
Seamus shrugged. "Nothing much." He looked up to Ron. "You and Hermione have another little tuff?"
Ron nodded. He figured it was pretty obvious by now that whenever he just had a disagreement with Hermione, he would sulk into the Common Room. Seamus snorted. "Tough luck, mate. You'll get her some day." Ron felt his ears grow hot.
"I don't want her! What would make you think that?" Ron sat straight in his chair. He could feel his face start to burn with embarrassment.
Seamus shrugged and grinned. "Let's see: in the first year when you where upset that you made her sad. In the second year, you got all pink in the face when she went to hug you. In the third year, you both grabbed hands 'round the Hippogriffs. In the fourth year, you got steamed about the Yule-"
"Enough!" Ron shouted. By now, his face was as red as a ripe tomato. "I don't like her. End of story. Zip. Stick a fork in it, it's done." Just then, the portrait hole to the Common Room swung open. In stepped Hermione.
"Oh, hello." She said quietly. Turning to Seamus she nodded back towards the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Seamus, Lavender's looking for you. In the library. She said you had something planned and what not."
Seamus grinned and straightened, standing up. "Well, must not keep darling Lavvy waiting. Ciao." With that, the sandy-haired boy shuffled his way out of the room. Ron snorted. Hermione scowled at him.
"Err-well," Ron said, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry 'bout that." Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"About what?"
"Well, if you don't know, I'm not telling you."
"Fine."
"Fine!"
They both stocked off to their dormitories. Neville Longbottom, who'd been sitting in the corner the whole time, squeaked to himself.
"You'd think they were married or something."
-
It was at the crack of dawn the next morning that Hermione woke up. Crookshanks, her tawny-colored cat, sat at the foot of her four-poster bed, mewing and purring in his sleep. Quietly, as to not disturb the other girls, she got up and scooted downstairs with her book.
The Common Room fire was lit, but only barely. Small embers popped out of the flames with little crack, crack, snap, snap noises, then disappeared magically into the air. Hermione took a deep breath, let it out, and sat in a small, warm chair by the fireplace. Slowly, she slid a piece of paper out from the pages in her book. A quill that had been tucked behind her ear was pulled from its place. Hermione plucked out and ink well and began writing the letter that had been burnt to ashes hours before.
Dear Viktor,
How are you? I'm doing well. Hogwarts is really great this time of year. I wish you could see it. Anyways, this letter is a little late, due to the fact that Ron burnt the first copy to ashes. He's so jealous even though he knows that we're just friends. Right Viktor?
Anyways, Harry is off at his Uncle's place. Professor Dumbledore said it'd be best for him if he stayed over there for the beginning of the year. Something about how You-Know-Who has gained so much power and what not. Oh well.
Hermione jumped, causing her quill to scratch down the page. A fine zigzag went down her page as she observed it. She let out a groan. Now she'd have to write the thing all over again!
She stood up and looked around, wondering what made the noise that caused her to jump so high. Although it was dark, she could see the outline of someone in the room. Squinting, she rolled her eyes.
"Oh, it's just you."
Ron stepped out. His hair was messed up. Little tufts of red hair stuck up in every which way. Hermione observed him for a second. You know, she thought to herself, he doesn't look half bad when he's like this, all tired and all. She immediately smacked herself in the forehead.
"Oh, you're down here," he grumbled. "I thought it was empty."
"Well, obviously it's not," she said, adding a touchy tone to her voice.
"Calm down," Ron said. "It's not like you don't make mistakes. Whoops, I forgot. You're perfect." Hermione huffed.
"That's not funny, Ron. I am not perfect, nor will I ever be. But at least I try my best, unlike you." Hermione glared. "And what's with this? Why do you always have to start a quarrel with me? Is it the fact that Harry's not here for you to pester?"
Ron glared down at her. "Me? Start this? Ha, it was you, Hermione! 'Well, obviously it's not,'" Ron said in the most annoying tone he could possibly muster. "And if you think Harry is the reason, you've got another thing coming to you."
They both glared at each other for a long time. In each other's eyes, they pretended to see hate. What there was, though, was something just a little more than that. Ron huffed and stomped up to his room again, forgetting the reason he went into the Common Room in the first place. Hermione grumbled to herself, crumpling up the piece of paper she'd been writing on. It was no use. She couldn't write when she was mad. Haughtily, she stalked back to her room. The two seemed to be doing a lot of fighting lately.
-
"Attention, students, attention," Professor Dumbledore stood, tapping his spoon on the tip of his goblet. The Great Hall silenced almost immediately.
Dumbledore smiled at this. He continued. "Students, you all may know that this year will be a tough one. With He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on the loose once again, we all must stay safe in this school. Everyone knows that is already a matter taken care of, so onto more important things.
"With us this year, we will have a student who, although he has already graduated, is a transfer from a school called Durmstrang. Fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh year students might already know this young fellow. All those who know about Bulgaria's Quidditch team might also know this person."
Dumbledore paused to let it sink in. Ron and Hermione, who were both not speaking to each other, glanced at the other out of the corner of their eyes.
"This student," Dumbledore continued, "is top of all of his classes. Everyone, please welcome Mr. Viktor Krum."
A tall, silent looking boy stepped out from behind Dumbledore's tall chair. His slightly grim smile was projected to every student in the Great Hall. Hermione jumped up and clapped with the rest.
Ron, however, fell over in his seat.