A/N: this is a disclaimer...not mine...
I mean the disclaimer is mine... the Potterverse isn't.
Erm, carry on.
Chapter 8: Storms
"Well, what happened to you Mr Weasley?" Madame Pomfrey looked up at the Red head who was lurking in her doorway, a very nasty black eye beginning to show.
"Got in a fight or something I guess." Ron muttered.
"Or something indeed. Fine example you are setting for younger students Mr. Weasley. And you a prefect? For shame. For shame." Madame Pomfrey took Ron's arm and lead him to a bed. She gestured impatiently.
Ron looked at her in horror. "I don't have to get into bed for a black eye do I?"
"Of course not silly boy, just sit, I will be right back with something for that bruise."
Ron perched obligingly on the end of the bed, his eye throbbing simultaneously with his head and his heart.
He wished he could take it back. He wished and he wished and yet he knew it had happened. He had said it. He had called the love of his life the worst possible thing he possibly could have thought of.
Ron groaned. He felt ill. What would Harry say? Would Hermione ever talk to him again?
If only she hadn't said such horrible things about Lavender. Ron had never known Hermione to say such horrible things, so he hadn't realised that he would, in turn, say a horrible thing to her.
Mudblood.
Of all the things! Ron sighed, he realised suddenly that it was probably the only thing he could have said to hurt her. Before he could stop himself, there were tears streaming down his freckled face. And, quite naturally, Madame Pomfrey chose this moment to return. She did not comment on the tears however.
"Alright, drink this up, there's a good lad." Madame Pomfrey uncorked a small vial and passed it to Ron, who took it without comment, tears still helplessly streaming down his face.
"Hermione."
"Hermione?"
"Hermione!"
Hermione sat quietly, distracted, her head down. She hadn't eaten a thing. Her friends, Neville, Harry and Ginny were each trying to get her attention.
"Pass the salt would you, Lav?" Dean asked casually.
Hermione's head shot up. Lavender. It was all her fault. She sneered at the girl who was innocently eating her dinner. Lavender obligingly passed him the salt and then went back to her conversation with Pavarti. She twirled her hair in her fingers. Oh how Hermione wanted to tear the girl's hair out right then! Perfect blonde hair, so tame, so shiny, so… so…
Blonde.
Harry caught the glare on Hermione's usually calm, happy face. She muttered under her breath.
"That was very…" Harry paused, disturbed, "Malfoy of you, Hermione, what is wrong? Talk to us!"
Malfoy. Hermione grit her teeth, her grimace causing Harry to withdraw in horror. It was all Malfoy's fault! Neville looked at Harry helplessly; a still silent Hermione ignored them both, stewing with rage. She looked across the tables at Malfoy. He was clutching a letter and muttering with a dark expression on his face, nearby Slytherins eyeing him warily.
Wrath of Draco? Please! Hermione knew nothing could compare to her own brand of rage. She snorted and glared at everyone.
"Hermione! Where is Ron?" Lavender turned towards Hermione suddenly, catching her off guard.
Bloody Ronald Weasley! It was his fault! Why couldn't he just…? Why didn't he…?
"How should I bloody know?" she retorted.
"Well apart from Malfoy you were the last one to see him." Harry answered warily. "I checked with Madame Pomfrey before dinner, but he wasn't there anymore."
"Uh, Maybe Ron didn't feel so good, so he's probably lying down or something." Neville said hurriedly at the expression on Hermione's face. "I'm sure its no problem, right Harry?" Neville gave his friend a look.
"Yeah, Malfoy said that he had run into a wall or something, so he is probably a bit achy." Dean agreed his mouth full.
"Maybe Malfoy hit him!" Seamus joked, not catching the warning glances of Neville and Harry.
"Not likely to do much damage, Malfoy hits like a girl!" Dean laughed, "hey, maybe Hermione hit him!"
Hermione bit her lip. She had hit him. Hard. But how could anyone blame her? It was his fault! Not surprising he didn't have the guts to see her at dinner. Hermione stared at her plate, then suddenly and violently speared a carrot with her fork, wishing it was Ron's head.
"Don't be stupid, Dean. Hermione only hits Malfoy!" Seamus replied, adding wistfully, "I really wish I had been there!"
Ginny, who had been watching her friend with concern, spoke quietly, changing the subject.
"Hey, Hermione? I'm having a bit of trouble with my Ancient Runes assignment? Maybe you could help me in the library after dinner?"
That's where Ron wouldn't be, the library. Hermione sniffed. Okay so maybe she didn't want to face him either.
"Yes, Ginny fine, I'll help you in the library." Hermione answered vaguely.
Ginny beamed, Harry shot her a grateful smile. He knew something was terribly wrong.
Luna was unusually quiet that evening. Terry watched her with concern.
"Luna?" he spoke tentatively.
"Hmm?"
"Are you okay? Is there something wrong?" Terry cocked his head.
Luna blinked at him owl-like. Then realising he was checking her over like a worried mother-hen, spoke soothingly.
"Oh! No not with me, I am fine." She paused, "It's just, well here we are, in the eye of the storm, it's so calm and nice and wonderful, Terry."
"Storm?" Terry asked.
"Yeah, over there," Luna gestured at the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was glaring heatedly at everyone and anyone. "And over there". She nodded at the Gryffindors.
Terry turned to see Hermione Granger spearing a carrot with her fork, he watched as her friends recoiled from her. He shrugged turning back to Luna, who was staring at him in wide-eyed seriousness.
"What have they got to do with us?" he asked genuinely perplexed. "And what is this about a storm?"
"A Storm will pass." She answered, "But leaves destruction in its wake."
"Okay." Terry said soothingly, patting her arm. "It's alright."
Luna nodded, seemingly satisfied, returning to her meal.
Terry watched her for a moment, but she said no more about storms.
He turned to look behind him at the Gryffindors again, frowning. He wondered where Ron was.
Ron, surprisingly, was in the library.
He sat at a table, with a large stack of books in front of him. Taking notes furiously. He had to find a way. And Hermione always said the answers were there to be found if only one looked hard enough.
He hoped she was right. He hoped he could find a way to take it back. Realising the time, and knowing with certainty that his housemates and friends would soon be heading his way for their usual study session, he gathered the books he needed and made his way out the door. There was no Slug Club meeting tonight, so he figured Hermione would probably end up in the library too.
He fingered his eye thoughtfully. No, not yet. He would speak to her tomorrow.
As Ron entered the still empty common room he spoke to himself out loud, trying to distract himself.
"I wonder which group I ended up in?"
