Almost a full twelve hours later, I awoke to the sound of Lavender softly shutting the wooden door of our dormitory behind her as she crept out of the room. I felt well rested, and judging by the lines in my arms and hands, I had slept soundly.
As much as I wanted to relax all day under the soft maroon-coloured sheets with a book and a cup of hot tea, I knew I needed to be just as productive as any other day. I swung my bare legs over the side of the bed, and suddenly I got the feeling that something was wrong. Something that I had tried to sleep off, something that loomed over me like a dementor hovering over a convict in Azkaban. Then I remembered: my growing anxiety with Ron and Harry.
I scowled. I hated worrying about things other than school. It seemed so futile, so unproductive. Yet it was worthless to even try to not think about it. The more I attempted to avoid thoughts of the boys, the more I thought of them. It was getting so bloody ridiculous.
Knowing that a shower would make me feel better, I perked up a bit and made my way to the lavatory, where I quickly took off my nightgown, set the temperature of the water, and stepped in. For some reason showering always seemed to clear my head, and the clean feeling I got from it made my day that much better. I massaged shampoo into my scalp and thick hair, and savored the heat that was saturating me from head to toe. If I had to choose between reading all day and showering all day, in that minute it would have been difficult to choose. But as I rinsed the soapsuds off of my body and smoothed the conditioner out of my waves, my mind drifted to seeing Harry at breakfast. And how I hadn't spent quality time with him in a while. And how I missed hearing his hearty laugh when I unintentionally said something humorous….
What was wrong with me? I had been friends with him for seven years now, and had always appreciated and enjoyed his company, but now I was craving it. I yearned to sit with him, talk with him, make him laugh, and just be with him. I thought about how earlier I had wanted to avoid him, and now I felt silly for wanting that. I realized my definition of who Harry was to me was slowly evolving and was becoming something that I was completely okay with. Maybe it wasn't my idea of our friendship changing though. Maybe it was me.
I stepped off of the wet tile floor, ceased the flow of water from the showerhead, and wrapped a gold towel around my midsection. The mirror in front of me was fogged, but I ran my hand over the steamy glass to inspect my disheveled yet clean appearance. I scrunched up my lightly freckled nose, wishing it wasn't so oddly shaped. Of course when I did that, my face looked even more unattractive, and for a second I wished I had facial features that looked like Cho's or even Lavender's. Not to mention hair that didn't have a mind of its own. I sighed, exasperated with myself again. I hated not liking myself.
Back in my room, I changed into my uniform and performed a drying spell on my hair. I decided that putting makeup on or making my hair less frizzy were lost causes, so I grabbed my bag and draped it over my shoulder and cringed at the weight. It was just as heavy as it had been last night. But then again, had I expected it to get lighter?
Walking into the Great Hall, I was immediately overcome by the delicious smell of breakfast foods. Group after group of students were busily chattering, some seeming more lively and awake than others. I scanned our usual area at the Gryffindor table for the boys. There they were, Ron shoveling eggs into his mouth like he hadn't eaten in weeks and Harry intently reading the front page of the Prophet whilst absentmindedly holding up a cup of pumpkin juice. I couldn't help but smile. They were both so humorous looking. Cute, even.
As I was walking toward them, my mind began racing through the pros and cons of sitting next to Harry or Ron. If I sat next to Harry, I knew I would feel happy yet uncomfortable and maybe then he'd get suspicious. If I sat next to Ron, I would be able to see Harry's face, but it would also be difficult to, if needed, mask any emotions I had toward him. So when I reached their seats, I took a chance, carefully placed my bag on the ground and settled next to Harry and across from Ron. I couldn't risk advertising my excitement of seeing Harry if I was sitting on the other side of the table.
"Morning," I said casually to both of them. Ron grunted and nodded at me, and Harry responded with a monotone "Hello."
I decided to bring up last night. "Where were you two last night? I came back to the Common Room pretty early and you were both nowhere to be found; did you go to sleep early or were you somewhere else?" I paused, contemplating asking more questions, and then realized I must have sounded more curious than usual. Perhaps I didn't, but either way, I was slowly becoming more and more anxious as the seconds passed and my seat next to Harry seemed more like a poor choice.
"We were at Hagrid's," Harry said simply. "He wanted to show us a letter that he got from Charlie about Norbert."
I smiled. "I can't believe it's been almost four whole years since that happened." Ron snorted and said "Bloody hell, has it really? Well I guess it has been, what with the Triwizard Tournament and everything else important that's happened since then that's made the time go by quick. Blimey." He grimaced and went back to devouring the pieces of toast on his plate.
I rolled my eyes, and took a piece for myself. I didn't feel like eating a whole lot, especially while I was still with Harry. But I needed a distraction, so I quickly gobbled it up and took a few sips of pumpkin juice, then turned to Harry. "Have you talked to Seamus or Dean since last night? They're planning to do something rotten, I can feel it. I hope it's nothing to do with the letter that they got from Fred and George last week."
He nodded. "Yeah I'm pretty sure it has got to do with it. I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. They're fairly harmless for the most part. Unless Seamus decides to blow something up," Harry grinned at me.
Something inside me did a little leap. I smiled back, and hoped he didn't see the blush that I felt slowly creeping unto my cheeks. "Well, alright, if you say so."
That day passed by quickly, unfortunately. As much as I tended to dislike having double Potions with the Slytherins, it helped take my mind off of Harry for the time being. But after class was over I found myself wandering to the library for a bit of studying, out of force of habit.
As I walked past the seemingly endless shelves of books toward my familiar desk, I realized how much I wanted to get the studying over with. And how odd it was that I wanted that. I quietly dropped my bag on the hardwood floor, and pulled out the chair from the desk. I sat down, scooted the chair closer to the desk, and crossed my legs. It was a bit chilly and uncomfortable in the room, and I longed for the warmth of the Common Room. Shrugging the cold away, I grabbed a book and the blank piece of parchment in the larger compartment of my bag, and then fished out my quill from the smaller pocket. I opened up the book, arranged the parchment in front of me, and began to read, taking notes on almost every paragraph.
As the minutes passed, I found it more and more difficult to concentrate, to the point where I couldn't remember the last sentence I had read before the one I was reading at the moment. I paused and closed my eyes, putting my head into my hands, completely frustrated with myself. I had come here to study in order to think about Harry as little as possible, and instead I found the opposite to be true. I realized that the difference between this time the previous day and the time right now seemed like a span of weeks rather than hours. These intense, no longer sporadic feelings I had for Harry had overcome me almost as suddenly as the time between a Phoenix's death and birth. I could hardly believe how so much had changed inside of me within the last twenty-four hours.
That was is it. I needed to do something beside study. I suddenly slammed my book closed, cringed at the noise it made, and looked around to see if I had disturbed anyone. A sixth year sitting a few metres away shot me a dirty look so I whispered an apology. The phrase "if looks could Crucio" crossed my mind as I threw the parchment back in my satchel, picked up the bag, shoved my chair in, and began walking toward the exit with my books cradled to my chest. I was irritated.
Mentally cursing myself, I decided that if I was going to study it had to be with someone who could help me focus and distract me simultaneously. Obviously Harry was out of the question, so I guessed Ron would have to do. Hopefully he was in the Common Room, where I could coax him to do a bit of homework, or, Merlin forbid, even study with me. I sheepishly smiled when that thought crossed my mind.
The sound of my footsteps being masked by the babbling of the portraits that I passed, I brushed past a small pack of first years that were crowding the staircase. When they saw who I was, their eyes grew big and they immediately went silent, and quickly moved to one side to allow me to pass.
As I climbed the stairs away from them, I was secretly thrilled that it had happened. Being rather small and unintimidating, usually my seventh-year presence evoked nothing in people, if not amusement for being older than most of the students and nowhere close to being a threatening-looking seventeen year old. I had to admit it was a shame sometimes. I was already so insecure about my physical appearance; I felt like it would boost my esteem if people were scared of me more often. Too bad that would never happen, save for the groups here and there of gawking first years.
Rounding the corner on the third flight of stairs, I suddenly bumped into strong, robed chest and was engulfed in the musky, comforting scent of Ron. I laughed when he caught me from falling into him and looked up at him. "Ronald! You scared me!"
He chuckled and turned to walk upstairs with me. "Sorry, I didn't mean it. You weren't paying any attention to what you were doing, were you? I'm not surprised."
Gathering my robes up to avoid tripping on them, I remembered why I hadn't been paying attention. I smiled, but I knew I would never, ever admit it to Ron. "Just thinking about things, I guess. Where are you off to?"
"Well I was looking for you, I had to ask you if you could help me with my Charms essay that's due tomorrow, isn't it?"
I sighed. "Yes, it's due tomorrow. I'm not surprised with your procrastination, but it's right lucky we found each other. I was coming to ask you if you wanted to do a bit of studying with me anyway."
Ron snorted. "And you're lucky I have an essay to write, otherwise I would have said no and told you to be on your way if you had asked me," he said jokingly, and playfully smacked the top of my head. I laughed and batted his hand away with my book, perfectly okay with his teasing. I was used to it.
When we reached the portrait hole, Ron responded to the Fat Lady with the password and followed me into the Common Room. Sunlight was filtering through the tall windows, and the fireplace was host to a small, but steady red glow. I was thankful for the heat of the tower, which seemed completely opposite of the chilliness of the library. I knew that I would have an easier time studying in here, and I was relieved.
Settling on the floor next to the small table between the couches, I sat with my legs folded in front of me, and arranged my black skirt over my lap. Ron plopped down across from me; his blank roll of parchment and quill suddenly appearing on the table. I selected the book I was going to begin with and opened it up, unexpectedly relaxed and focused on the task at hand.
After what seemed like only a few minutes, Ron groaned. Startled, I looked up and saw that he had almost a page written and rolled my eyes. "What is it?"
"I'm stuck. I don't know what to say next," he said in sad tone, as if he were trying to coax me into helping him. I looked into his twinkling green eyes, and saw a subtle smile that was creeping over his face. "I'm just so confused…." He let his voice trail off, breaking the eye contact with me to put his freckled face into his hands. I rolled my eyes again.
"Give it here," I said firmly, slapping my hand down on his parchment and dragging it across the table with a crackling sound. The last sentence written in Ron's scraggly handwriting wasn't even complete, and the ink had smeared under his big hand. I rummaged for my wand from underneath my robes, pointed it at the paper and murmured a quick-erasing spell. When I put my wand down and looked up at Ron, noticing that he was watching me with an amused look fixed upon his face. "What is it, Ronald?" I said in a monotone voice. I was used to fixing his mistakes.
"Nothing," he replied with a hint of laughter on his voice. "I could have done that myself, but of course you had to do it for me. Always trying to do things your way, Hermione."
I shrugged. "Just because you're too bloody lazy to ever do anything, ever, doesn't mean I'm trying to do things my way. It means I simply cannot stand it when you don't put effort into anything." It irritated me to no end, I had to admit, but over the years I had grown so used to it that I rarely brought it up. Of course it still bothered me, but I had learned to overlook it almost as if it were second nature. But since I had been so uptight and distracted the last few days, I wasn't surprised that I was bitching about it at this point. I felt bad about it though, so I quickly apologized to Ron.
"No worries," he said. "Something's been bothering you hasn't it? You were acting wicked strange at breakfast this morning, I could tell." His eyes were full of questions, the corners of his mouth drawn tightly. I could tell he was genuinely worried about me. However, I couldn't help but get angry that he had noticed. Not angry at him of course, but upset with myself for making it so bloody obvious that something was bothering me. If there was anything worse than having feelings for Harry, it was making those feeling obvious. Or so I thought.
"No there's nothing going on, Ronald. You need to stop worrying about me and focus on your schoolwork. This essay isn't going to write itself, as much as you wish it would," I abruptly responded, a frown growing on my face. "Mind your own business."
I knew he cared about me, he was my best friend after all, but this was a matter that was entirely my own to handle. I couldn't confide in Ron, or Ginny, or Lavender. I couldn't tell anyone what was going on, for fear that they would turn about and tell Harry. And if he were to know, I would be the one to tell him. I sighed, and picked the parchment up in my small hands. I skimmed over the three paragraphs he had written on the undetectable extension charm. His content was good, but his grammar left something to be desired. I decided it would be in my better judgment to ignore it, as much as it was bugging me and despite my seemingly nasty attitude. I shoved the paper back across the table to him, meeting his eyes with a fake smile. "It's actually decent. Your content isn't half bad."
He grinned in a familiar way. His freckles seemed to dance across his face as the fireplace flickered to my right; his dark hazel eyes shined with delight. I was suddenly aware of how small the table was, how close his leg was to my knee, how much smaller the room felt. As I looked down, I grew conscious of his scent that hovered around me because of our close proximity, the smell of mint and sunshine mixed with the smell of the burned wood and fire coming from a few metres away. It smelled absolutely lovely, almost intoxicating, fogging my brain for a second, causing me to forget everything that I had been going through over the last few days…
Then I realized whose scent it was that I was savoring. I looked up, embarrassed again and saw Ron gazing at me, this time with a softer look in his eyes. Without warning, my cheeks quickly flushed pink and my heart sped up, but only for a second.
Out of habit, I immediately faked my present emotions, giving him a look as if he had just transfigured into a broom onto the table. "You're being such a creep!" I exclaimed in a shrill tone, trying to suddenly grab his attention to what I was saying. It worked, and I saw him jump slightly, his gaze distracted.
"Bloody hell, what're you doing? What're you shouting for? You're bloody weird, Hermione! So random…" he muttered. He furrowed his brow and grabbed his essay, turning it around so he could continue writing. I exhaled, relieved that he hadn't noticed my attempt to hide my emotions. "Whatever," I replied and went back to my book, trying to immerse myself into the depths of the words, far away from my bizarre reality. I couldn't help but wonder, however, why Ron had been looking at me in such a different way than I was used to. Or maybe he always looked at me like that and I just have never noticed…
Within two hours, I had finished my studying fairly undisturbed. Ron had completed his good-enough essay in an hour and left to meet Ginny for dinner before their Quidditch practice. I was relieved when he had left, for I always felt as if I studied better when I was alone; I liked being alone. I felt sleepy, almost lulled to into a nap by the heat of the fire that I had been sitting so close too. I looked over my shoulder at the couch I had been leaning into, and decided a quick nap wouldn't hurt. Besides, the dormitories stayed fairly quiet at this time of night, what with dinner and Quidditch and even detentions reserved for this portion of the evening. I shuffled my books into a neat pile on top of my bag next to the couch, placed my wand on top, and settled onto the couch. I curled up on my side, my head resting on the pillow and closed my eyes.