Seasonal Suffering
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; not the characters, not the setting, not the idea, nada, except the plot of this story (and maybe not even that for, "There is nothing new under the sun").
Notes: I told you it wouldn't take long! Ha! For once, I got a chapter out about when I said I would, which was "soon." A week is "soon," right? Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, because I worked hard to get it done this early; there was a lot more left to do than I thought there was (it was only nine pages long when I finished chapter nine, and three of those had to be deleted). Happy Reading!
Important Note! Any time you see (S) or (SS) in the story, it means that it's a quote, and the source is given in the ending footnotes. Okay, now you can go read.
Chapter Ten: Raging Row
Hermione had desperately hoped, upon stumbling into bed after her detentions last night (two consecutive detentions in one night was a bit much, she'd decided), that when she woke to this day, it might be a better day than the day before. After all, how could it not be? Yesterday had been so bad, there was no way the next could fail to be an improvement. And weren't the worst of days always followed by the best of?
Apparently not.
Why must today feel so much like a continuation of yesterday, rather than a new beginning? Already things were going badly. For instance, Madam Pomfrey's second dosage of migraine potion, administered last night before bed, had failed completely and she was now enduring a migraine for the third day in a row. And migraine's only get worse as time goes on. In addition, she had woken late today (as opposed to yesterday when she'd woken exceptionally early) and now had just fifteen minutes to eat and get to class. She scowled into her juice, checking it first for bugs before drinking almost half the glass in one gulp. The sound of flapping wings was only mildly hopeful; the post had not been a blessing at all yesterday and things weren't looking any better today, so what were the chances, all considering, that anything would change? Still, maybe today would be different. Taking a bite of her usual breakfast of toast, because she hadn't time to stop eating while she watched the delivery owls, she turned her eyes hopefully to the ceiling.
"There she goes again, captivated by the mail flight. Clearly she's expecting something, Harry. It's been almost two weeks now that she's watched the owls like that." She caught the half glare Ron directed at her from the corner of her eye. "What are you waiting for Hermione, a love letter from your precious Vicky?" he sneered. She jerked around to face him, gaping in astonishment both at his vindictive tone and the fact that he was still stuck on the stupid Krum thing. It took her several seconds to recover, but when she had, she felt fury ignite in her heart against the boy who for two days now had so unfeelingly hurt her.
Intelligence and rational thinking were thrown out the window; Hermione snapped.
"Ronald Weasley, you insufferable GIT!" she shouted, jumping to her feet. "I do not now, have never in my life, and will never fancy Viktor Krum! I think your inability to grasp this concept obviously telling as to the level of your intelligence, and your inability to correctly pronounce his name is further proof of both your stupidity and your immaturity! Furthermore," she continued, ignoring the fact that every eye in the otherwise silent Great Hall was now on her, "I don't see how it's any of your business even if we were secretly meeting once a week to declare our undying love for each other, you have no right to stick your nose into my life that way, no reason to insult another person just because he's dating me-especially when you know nothing about him-and absolutely no right to criticize my choice in a male companion! For the last time! Krum. Is. Just. My. Friend! I'm not in love with him. I'm not seeing him secretly. I'm not exchanging weekly love notes with him. We occasionally exchange friendly letters. We do this because he is my friend! So are you. So is Harry. So is Colin, for that matter, and Dean, and Seamus, and Jack, and any number of other males at this school. Are you going to start insulting all of them too? Are you going to start accusing me of snogging Harry behind your back? For heaven's sake, Ronald, what is the matter with you?"
Now it was Ron who was gaping at her. Suddenly he jumped to his feet too.
"What's the matter with me? What's the matter with you? You're the one scowling into your breakfast hardly speaking a word until the mail comes, then suddenly your whole face lights up! What else am I supposed to think, Hermione? You're the one giving the impression that the only thing you live for each day is a letter in the mail!"
"I am not!"
"You have been lately! Two weeks Hermione. For two weeks you've spent every breakfast watching the ceiling!"
"Why do you even care, Ron?" she hissed at him.
"You know what?" he snarled viciously. "I don't! I'm sorry my involvement in your life has been so hard on you; I hadn't realized that I was such a burden. Poor stupid me, here I thought all this time we were friends! Forgive me for bothering to care about you at all then; I promise never to do it again!"
"Fine!" she shouted, storming through the hall towards the door.
"Fine!" he shouted after her, just before owl poop landed on her shoulder. Tears she refused to let fall pricked her eyes as his cruel, mirthless laughter followed her out the door and some ways down the corridor. After all, there was no other sound in the Great Hall to drown it out.
It wasn't until she was halfway up the second flight of stairs on her way to class that the full impact of what had just happened finally hit her and she staggered against the wall with a sob she could no longer contain.
I just lost Ron. And the worst part wasn't that she had just ruined any chance she might ever have had with him romantically. The worst part was that she'd just lost her best friend.
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"Hermione," she heard her name whispered very softly. "Hermione, honey, wake up." Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. She instantly squeezed them shut again with a groan. Crying oneself to sleep is not a good way to get rid of a headache, and her mind screamed at even the faint light coming through the single open window across the room.
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry." Came the very soft voice again, growing somewhat distant as it talked. Hermione heard the sound of the drapes being pulled across the window, then the soft, careful pad of footsteps returning to her side. She made a little sound when the mattress depressed next to her, and made no effort to move when the bed curtains were drawn closed again and her roommate snuggled down beside her on top of the covers, both arms around her. "We were worried about you, sweetheart. You've slept half the day away; you never sleep that long. Are you feeling any better?" Hermione gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head, her eyes still closed tightly. "I'm sorry, 'Mione." Parvati sighed then snorted softly. "You weren't in any classes this morning; the teachers didn't quite know what to do with themselves. They've been asking about you left and right, and we've been coming up with all kinds of outlandish excuses. In charms today, Lavender told Flitwick that you and Ginny were having one of your famous mock battles last night and got so caught up in it you started throwing hexes for real. Told him you were so covered in boils, spots, and glittery pink feathers that you'd be in the infirmary for a week. The whole class was in chaos for ten minutes afterwards and Flitwick fell off his stack of books twice!" Hermione gave a quaking laugh that morphed into a low sobbing moan. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry," Parvati's arms tightened around her. "Talk to me about it, 'Mione."
"I've lost him, Parvati," Hermione whispered hoarsely. "I'm in love with him and that's not even the part I care about most. I've lost my best friend."
Parvati gathered the other girl close, rubbing her back and combing her hair gently with her fingers as she let her cry into her shoulder.
"It was all so stupid, Parvati. I wasn't even waiting for a letter from Viktor. My parents are sending me something this month…I was so excited about it. Now I wish I'd never known it was coming. What am I going to do?"
"It's going to be okay, 'Mione. Everything's going to be okay."
Half an hour later, Lavender came in with a plate of lunch and yet another migraine potion from Madam Pomfrey. After being forced to consume both, Hermione fell into a deep sleep, and her worried roommates held a hushed conversation across the room.
"This is ridiculous. She shouldn't have to go through this."
"Ron has been a zombie all through classes today. It's not like he's faring any better."
"He deserves it."
"Lavender, you know that's not true. She shouldn't have yelled at him in that derogatory manner in front of the entire school, and he should not have been nosy and lost his temper that way. They both behaved irrationally. They share the fault."
Lavender sighed. "I know." She brightened. "Do I still get to beat him up?"
"Only verbally, Lav, and not today. Come on. Let's get to class."
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It was late afternoon when Hermione finally came down from her dorm the day of her big fight with Ron. It was her first time out of her room since that morning, her first time even out of bed, for she had just woken. Yet she felt anything but rested, and was dreading the rest of the day enough that she had to fight at every step to keep from running back up the stairs. Still, despite her puffy, red-rimmed eyes and wilder than normal hair, her descent into the common room was quiet and dignified. Everyone in the room noticed her arrival with a mixture of relief and concern, and maybe a little trepidation; everyone but two.
Harry Potter felt no relief whatsoever. She was up, true, but she looked a wreck and she was avoiding eye-contact. In fact, she was ignoring him completely. Harry suspected this had something to do with the fact that he was sitting next to Ron, but that didn't make him feel any better about it. His best friends were both going through a very difficult time, and he was being completely ignored by one of them for something he hadn't done. Harry was worried, hurt, and more than a little annoyed.
Ron Weasley, on the other hand, watched her come in, scowled fiercely, and promptly ignored her too. Obviously he was still angry.
Sharing the feelings of the rest of the room's occupants, Parvati and Lavender leapt from their seats and rushed to their roommate's side.
"How are you feeling, Hermione?" Parvati asked quietly.
Hermione, still in her wrinkled (but scourgified) school robes, pushed hair from her face and swallowed thickly. "Much better now that my headache's gone." She smiled gratefully at her roommates. "Thanks for having Madam Pomfrey make me a double dose. You girls are wonderful."
"If you think that was great, you'll love this. We're going to run down to the kitchens and grab you an early dinner, then we're going to set you up on the couch with all of today's notes and let you copy them down. You can even nag us to do our homework if you like."
Hermione smiled a small, genuine smile and said, "Thanks girls, I appreciate it. But if you don't mind, I'd like to come down to the kitchens with you; I've sat still enough today, I'd like to move around a little."
Minutes later found Hermione sitting at the kitchen's sole table with her roommates, eating potatoes and roast and watching the house elves rush around preparing dinner. At one point, a house elf she didn't know (and who must have been new) stopped by her table and asked if she needed anything. Before she could answer though, two of his fellow workers retrieved him, casting nervous glances at her over their shoulders as they not so quietly explained that that was the scary girl who tried to give elves clothes, and only Dobby ever talked to her. Hermione sighed dejectedly as the house elf made an "eep!" sort of sound and raced out of sight. Parvati and Lavender only laughed.
"Serves you right, Hermione," Lavender told her. "If you'd left off at offering them clothes, rather than trying to hide them in the common room to be accidentally 'found,' they'd probably not be so afraid."
"Yeah," Parvati agreed, sipping her water, "they'd only be annoyed with you for trying to free them, not genuinely frightened."
Hermione mock scowled at both her friends, then sighed and took another bite of roast. "I still think S.P.E.W. was a good idea," she muttered under her breath. She didn't mutter it quietly enough, apparently, because almost every house elf in the room vanished instantaneously at the sound of the acronym. This only made Lavender and Parvati laugh all the harder, and even Hermione chuckled a little, especially when Dobby walked into the room, glanced around, and asked if the misses knew where all the others had gone. Her roommates had to drag Hermione away before she tried to explain and ended up preaching about the mistreatment of house elves to the one house elf who was already "free." The three were still chuckling when they ran across Professor Flitwick on his way to dinner.
"Miss Granger!" he exclaimed, startled to see her looking so well. "I see that you are feeling better. I hope that your time in the infirmary wasn't terribly unpleasant, what with the feathers and the boils and all."
"What? Oh! Oh, right sir. No, it wasn't. Madam Pomfrey was very helpful." Hermione could scarcely contain her grin.
"Good, glad to hear it. I trust you'll not be holding any more mock battles with Miss Weasley, Miss Granger?"
"No sir."
"I thought not. Because it's obvious to me that you not only suffered from the experience, but you lost rather badly."
"Yes sir, no one throws a good hex better than Ginny."
"Is that so? Hmmm. I'd have thought until today that you would. Oh well. I expect you'll be copying today's notes and assignment from one of your fellow students? It wouldn't do for the first in the class to get behind."
"No sir. I'm to copy Lavender and Parvati's notes later this evening."
"Excellent." The Professor considered her for several seconds then shook his head in disbelief. "It's amazing what modern medical potions can do these days. I find it incredible that the extra head is gone so quickly, and without any evidence that it ever existed!"
Extra head? Lavender and Parvati snorted in attempts to choke off laughter, and Hermione's voice was a little high with her own attempt at self-control.
"Without a trace, right. Well, Professor, I must be off. I have lots of homework to catch up on you know."
"Yes, very good. I will see you in class the day after tomorrow then. Good day, Miss Granger, Miss Brown, Miss Patil." He nodded to each of them in turn, then trotted off to the Great Hall.
It was all Hermione could do to hold her tongue until he was out of earshot, but as soon as he was, she turned on her roommates in disbelief. "Extra head?"
"Okay," replied Parvati, "so maybe we got a little carried away." All three burst out laughing, but the joy of the moment was short lived for Hermione, for it had barely begun when Ron and Harry rounded the corner. At the sight of the red-head, the laughter died in her throat. Ron caught sight of her too, and for an instant their gazes locked. But Ron's eyes were hard and cold as they hadn't been since the Firebolt fiasco in third year, and at least then she had been in the right. This time, she wasn't so sure that was the case.
Internally she decided she hated that gaze, and she should have been more careful about what she said this morning. She and Ron had fought before, but she of all people knew how proud he was, and she had ridiculed him in front of the entire school anyway. How, exactly, had she expected him to react? True he should have left the Viktor Krum subject alone, and really, her relationship with him wasn't any of Ron's business anyway, but since when had she become so cruel and vindictive? She was hurt, so she had wanted to hurt him. Regretfully she realized that it had obviously worked.
Good job, Hermione.
"Hello, Hermione." Harry's voice, too, was cool.
I ignored him, she realized, and he's angry about it. What kind of friend am I?
"I'm sorry, Harry," she told him. He seemed to understand because he nodded and smiled at her.
"You're sorry, Harry?" Ron was scowling. "What have you done to him? Borrowed his quill without permission? For heaven's sake Hermione."
"What?" she stared at him.
"You're always so quick to apologize to Harry. It's not hard to see which direction the favoritism flows in this relationship," he hissed scornfully.
Hermione frowned, regret quickly forgotten in the face of irritation. "Well, you know, Harry doesn't try micromanage my life, Ron."
"Neither do I!"
"No you just tell me who I can and cannot be friends with," she answered sarcastically.
Ron opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Harry jumped in.
"Stop it, Ron."
"Oh, so now you're taking her side."
"I am not choosing sides!"
"That's sure what it looks like."
"Oh, shut up Ronald!"
"Hermione, you're not helping here." Harry glared at her.
"Harry!"
"Oh, yeah, now that he's not defending her she gets upset," Ron told the ceiling.
"Ronald, I swear-"
"Shut up, both of you! Now!" Harry added when they both tried to speak. "This is your stupid fight," he continued in the soft, deadly serious voice he used when he was being the savior of the world. "You are both my best friends; I will not choose between you, and I'm not going to be put in the middle of this. If the two of you want to battle it out, fine, but don't expect me to participate, because I won't. And if you try to force the issue, I'll stop speaking to either of you. I doubt you'll appreciate hearing it, but really this whole thing is stupid. You're friends."
Ron snorted. So did Hermione.
They glared at each other.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine be that way. I just hope you both realize you're going to regret this later. Your pride is going to ruin a beautiful thing, and I won't feel sorry for either of you if you let it." He looked at Hermione. "Are you coming to dinner?"
"I already ate."
"Fine. Ron, I'll see you in the Great Hall." That said, their best friend strode angrily away.
"Good going, Ron. Now you've gone and made Harry mad at both of us."
"Me? I don't recall your helping the situation any."
"You are such a prat, Ronald!"
"That never seemed to bother you before, Hermione. Why is it suddenly so different now?"
At first she wanted to give a smart-mouthed reply, but looking up at him she caught a glimpse of something very serious in his eyes. "It's not, Ron," she insisted. The flash of pain in his eyes was unmistakable, and she suddenly realized she'd just made a very big mistake. Before she could reassure him, though, that she hadn't meant what he was thinking, he turned away from her.
"So this isn't a new thing then." His voice wasn't even angry now, it was just flat. "If that's really what you think of me, it's no wonder you like Krum so much better."
"Ron."
He turned around again, his face as emotionless as his voice. "What do you want, Granger?"
Tears pricked her eyes. "Stop it, Ron."
"Are you going to cry?"
"Knock it off, Ronald!" she was angry now. "You're being stupid."
"So you keep telling me. Why don't you run complain to Vicky about it? I'm tired of hearing it."
"Oh! Ronald!" Her temper flared so hot so suddenly that she had trouble stopping herself from hitting him for his hard-headed vengefulness. It would not be wise, some distant part of her mind realized, to continue to stand here with him; she might really do something she'd regret. So instead she flew upstairs in hopes of finding some other way of venting her anger.
Ron watched her go with wet eyes, then went down to dinner.
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Half an hour later, Harry was having a bit of a chat with Seamus, Dean and Ginny over desert about the nature of his own latest and unhappily well-deserved detention. A sullen Ron was listening half-heartedly.
"He had me cleaning all his torture devices! I seriously spent four hours last night cleaning and polishing manacles and spikes and all sorts of other tools. He even has a rack! And these things hadn't been cleaned in ages; they were filthy! It was worse than scrubbing the dungeon floors with a tooth brush after a day of Neville's exploding cauldrons."
"Yeah, but torture devices? Why that of all things?"
"I dunno, mate. I guess he couldn't come up with anything better." It was a this point that Parvati and Jack came flying through the Great Hall doors, their appearance mussed and hurried, and frantically looking about the hall for something.
"What in the world… What are they looking for?" Ginny murmured.
Harry only shook his head. "No idea." The words were barely out of his mouth when Jack's gaze met his. Without breaking eye contact, Jack grabbed his girlfriend's arm and the two hurried down the length of the table to stand beside Harry.
"Harry," Parvati gasped, desperately grabbing at his arm and trying to catch her breath, "come quick! She's gone mad! Stark raving mad!"
"Who's gone mad?"
"Hermione!" At the mention of her name, Ron's face darkened, and he studiously turned his attention to his plate. Ginny glared at the top of his head, but he didn't seem to notice.
"What do you mean Hermione's gone mad?" Harry questioned. He glanced sideways at Ron, then back to Parvati.
"I mean, she's standing in the middle of the common room, summoning every breakable object she knows the location of and flinging it against the wall while muttering a long stream of incessant insults under her breath. She won't even listen to me! Almost took my head off with a vase from the fourth floor corridor!"
"She what?" Harry was incredulous.
"She's not joking, look!" Jack held up his arm to reveal a long slice in the fabric of his sleeve and the skin beneath. It was bleeding sluggishly, as were several small cuts on his hands. "I tried to catch one of those little glass figurines from the alcoves on the third floor, and it shattered. There's glass and such all over the common room floor already. Nobody can get in there and some of us still have classes!"
Harry sighed and stood from his seat, looking anything but enthusiastic. "All right, let's go see what Ron has done now." Then, under his breath, "I knew I shouldn't have left them unsupervised in the hallway."
"Hey!"
"Oh shut up, Ron," his sister muttered. "The two of you are ridiculous." She hurried to catch up with Harry.
"I'm not ridiculous!" Ron told her, matching her pace, then fell silent at the look she gave him. There were times when Ginny got angry that she was just a little too much more of Molly than she was of Arthur. It was uncanny.
No sooner had the five Gryffindors reached the corridor in which their tower was located than they were bombarded with questions and comments from the crowd of their housemates gathered there.
"Harry, you really don't want to go in there, mate."
"She's nutters, that one is-"
"I always said she was a-"
"She seemed fine, what made her-"
"Are you really-"
"What happened-"
"Did you know she broke your-"
"Shut up!" shouted Ron, earning many shocked, and a few mutinous looks from those around him. Harry, who had been looking rather flustered at the sheer number of questions being asked, now breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thanks, Ron."
"No problem, Harry," the red-head replied.
"Okay. Let me through." A low murmur of protest rose from the other Gryffindors, but it fell quickly when Ron, who was well known for his quick-fire temper (especially in the last few days), glared meaningfully around the hall. Silently the crowd parted and Harry approached the fat lady's portrait. "Butter flavored Bertie Botts Every Flavor beans," he told her calmly.
"Are you sure you want to go in there, dear? I can hear her from here; it might be rather dangerous and-"
"Just let us in; we'll be fine," Harry snapped.
The fat lady humphed unhappily. "Well, fine. I'll let you in, there's no reason to be so rude." The portrait swung open, its occupant still looking disgruntled.
Now that there was nothing obstructing his way to the common room, Harry could hear the crashes and faint muttering that was Hermione venting her anger in a most unusual way. Shooting a meaningful look at Ron, he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, crawled through…
And immediately flattened himself against the floor, silently giving thanks for Quidditch honed reflexes as a ceramic platter, apparently summoned from the kitchens, shattered heavily against the stone wall behind him. Ron ducked the falling shards as he crawled through after his friend, and the two sat on the floor, conferring briefly.
"Couch?"
"Couch."
Thus decided, they cowered behind the safety of the couch's soft, really-hard-to-break-something-against-it mass and took some time to absorb what was happening. Hermione, completely oblivious to their arrival, continued her tirade.
"Stupid, no good red-head!" Crash! "Ignorant, oafish, thick-headed half-wit!" Crash! "Thou shouldst be put in a cauldron of lead and usurer's grease, amongst a whole million of cutpurses, and there boil like a gammon of bacon that will never be enough,(S) thou spongy spur-galled apple-john!" Crash! Crash! Crash!
Instinctively Ron ducked, though Hermione couldn't see him, and whispered to Harry, "Is she talking about me?" Harry nodded solemnly.
"Dense, uncultured, imbecilic git!" Crash! "Uneducated prat!" Crash! "Peon! Oblivious even to the nose on his face!" Crash!
"What? I know I have a nose!" Ron whispered vehemently, feeling rather insulted by this point.
"Shut up, Ron. That wasn't exactly what she meant."
"Well, what then?"
Harry stared at him. "She's right. You are dense." The unhappy Weasley scowled fiercely at his friend.
"I get enough of that from her. I don't need it from you too." Harry only sighed and softly clapped a hand on his shoulder, still listening to Hermione.
"Know-nothing cretin! Thou art i' th' worst rank of manhood;(S) a notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, the owner of no one good quality!"(S) Crashcrashcrashcrash!
"Where is she getting these things?" Ron hissed.
"Shakespeare. You know Hermione's angry when she starts quoting muggle playwrights."
"Lint has a higher IQ." Crash! "And makes a better companion, too!"
"That's Shakespeare?"
"No. That was Hermione."
"You don't even know the meaning of the word stupid, but then you don't know the meaning of most words!" Crash! "Any similarity between you and a human is purely coincidental!" Crash! Crash!
"Okay, that's going a bit far." Ron's face was fast growing red with anger. Shock had kept him from it earlier, for Hermione never lost her temper so violently, but having accepted the fact that Hermione had gone mad, he now felt free to focus on what it was, exactly, that she was saying about him.
"Relax, Ron. Getting angry at her will not help this situation any."
"Thou art not so big as a round little worm!"(S) Crash!
"Do you hear what she's saying?"
"I hear her, Ron. I'm telling you; relax."
"Dearest Ron, I feel so miserable without you, it's almost like having you here."(SS) Crash! Crash!
"What!" Ron hissed, shocked.
"Thou art like the toad, ugly and venomous!"* Crash! "Drop into the rotten mouth of death!"(S)
Insulting him was one thing, wishing him dead quite another. "All right. That's enough!" Ron roared, leaping from his place behind the couch, then deftly caught the jar hurling straight for his head. Like his captain before him, he gave silent thanks for Keeper reflexes and glared hotly at Hermione. She stood in furious surprise exactly five yards away. "Enough," he said more quietly.
Hermione sniffed and returned the glare. "Hello, Ronald." She smiled sweetly. "Converse with any plankton lately?"
Ron's face darkened and he took a step toward her, opening his mouth to reply, but Harry jumped up and restrained him.
"Stop it, Ron." Harry looked to Hermione, eyes narrowed. "What is going on in here?"
"I was angry, so I'm venting my anger on inanimate objects." He just looked at her, and she glared. "It's your fault you know."
"My fault!" Harry sputtered. "How is this my fault?" His waving hand indicated the empty paintings, torn upholstery and piles of glass and porcelain shards scattered about the room.
Hermione frowned. "Well, I just thought you'd prefer this to my taking my aggression out on Ron's face."
"What! I'd like to see you-" Harry clamped a hand over Ron's mouth.
"Shut up, Ron," he told him fiercely. "I don't need you making things worse right now." He continued in a louder voice. "This has gone quite far enough." Gingerly, Harry made his way through the rubble to his female friend. When he reached her side, he regarded her with solemn eyes for several seconds, then sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his already messy hair. "Okay. What…" he stopped, at a loss. "What is it you need, Hermione?"
"What?"
"Well, what were you supposed to get out of all this?" his voice was irritated as he glared at her and again indicated the mess in the room with his hand. "What was it supposed to do for you?"
She shook her head. "I don't…"
"Hermione, you had to have wanted something! What were you going to do when you ran out of breakable things? Smile at the rest of Gryffindor and skip off to the library to do your homework? What was the point?"
"I don't know, okay!" Tears pricked her eyes. "I was just so angry!" She hung her head, sniffling, and Harry sighed.
"Hermione." He gathered her in his arms and sighed again. "I think the best way to solve your problem is for you and Ron to knock it off." He paused, waiting for some sign she agreed. He got nothing. "Hermione?"
She made a non-committal noise and he growled in disgust. "Hermione, stop it." He took her by the shoulders and held her at arms' length. "I'm not kidding."
Hermione would have protested more, but Harry had used the Voice and done that scary stern thing with his eyes, so she sighed instead and looked at the floor. "Okay."
"Good, now apologize to Ron."
"What? But he started it!"
"I did not!"
"Did too!"
"Stop it, both of you!" He glared back and forth between them. "Hermione, I know that Ron made the first comment, which caused you to react in anger-"
"What? Harry, you git, don't lay the blame on me, she's the one-"
"Shut up, Ron. If you'd kept your mouth shut abut Krum none of this would have happened. However," he added, ignoring Ron's mutinous look and glaring down at Hermione, who was starting to look smug, "Hermione reacted terribly and shares the blame."
"But if he's the one who started it, why do I-"
"Because you are the one who's spent the evening saying some rather nasty things about Ron while smashing fragile objects you don't even own against the wall, that's why. Now apologize."
"But I don't-"
"Hermione, apologize to Ron, now!"
She glared up at him. "I will not!"
There was silence in the room.
Harry looked at his other equally stubborn friend with dying hope. "Ron?"
Without looking at him, Ron shook his head. "No Harry."
Harry released his breath in an unhappy hiss. "Okay then. Just remember this was your choice." His voice was full of disgust. "The two of you can spend the afternoon arguing, or ignoring each other, or whatever else you want to do. I am going to go find my girlfriend and pretend none of this ever happened. Don't either of you come talk to me until you've grown up." With that, the raven-haired boy left through the portrait hole, and Hermione and Ron were left looking after him.
"This is not good," Ron muttered.
"Really?" Hermione asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
Ron glared at her. "Don't get all self-righteous on me, Hermione. This is as much your fault as mine," he snarled.
Subconsciously, she knew he was right, but she was far beyond rational behavior at this point. "Hardly."
Ron addressed the empty room. "Hermione Granger, ladies and gentlemen, Miss Perfect."
"You're no picnic yourself, Ronald," she snapped.
"You know, I'm amazed you've stuck around so long since you seem to despise me so much."
"I never said I despised you, Ron."
"No, but that's the problem, isn't it? Why didn't you say it when you so obviously felt it? Why did you bother pretending to be my friend all this time?"
Her jaw dropped, and she shook her head. "I was your friend!"
"Then what's changed?" he cried. "One minute we're the best of friends, and the next you don't hardly talk to me anymore. You've been distant for going on a month now!"
"I've been distant!" she exclaimed disbelievingly. Hadn't he been ignoring her? He went on as if she hadn't spoken.
"Every time I try to talk to you it's 'I'm reading right now, Ron,' or 'Don't you have homework to do?' and there's always 'Ron, honestly, can't you see I'm studying for my NEWTS?' As if I don't know NEWTS are more than a year away. Even you don't start studying that early."
"I was studying for my NEWTS!" Is that really how it had been? Had she been the distant one? But Ron wasn't finished yet.
"And then, after being ignored all that time, I have to sit there and watch you get all excited over a letter from Krum. He's hundreds of miles away! I was sitting right there, you could always have talked to me, but no, you were too busy. Yet you apparently managed to make plenty of time for Krum." He sneered the name.
"Oh, Krum again." She rolled her eyes and turned away.
"You seem to think well enough of him."
She whirled around again, hands on her hips. "And why not? He's perfectly nice." She glared at him across the couch she'd put between them.
"He can't even say your name properly, Hermione!"
"Half the time neither do you! What has that got to do with anything?"
"I do it on purpose. Vicky's just too stupid to learn how."
Hermione clenched her fists in frustration. "Look, Ron, no one's saying you have to like Viktor, but don't insult him when he's not even here to defend himself! And stop calling him Vicky!"
"Why? Isn't that what you call him?" Ron sneered.
"No!"
"Haven't gotten to the nickname stage of your relationship then, have you?" He cast her a superior look.
"Ronald, I am not dating Viktor Krum!" she yelled.
"Well, he certainly means a lot to you! If you're not dating him, it must be because he's too cowardly to ask you!" he yelled back.
"Viktor is just my friend, Ronald! He means nothing more to me than that. For goodness' sake, what will it take to get that through to you?" Her voice cracked with the strain of maintaining volume.
"Well he obviously means more to you than me, and I thought we were best friends! What am I supposed to think?" His face was red with the strain of shouting too, and the muscles of his neck corded with the effort.
Hermione threw her hands in the air, fully exasperated, and screamed, "No one means more to me than you, you idiot; I love you!"
The room suddenly went still, as if it were holding its breath. Ron stood staring at her, mouth working, trying and failing to speak. Hermione, for her part, was equally shocked. She stared back at the boy with wide eyes and frantically tried to think what had possessed her. And how she could fix it.
Before she could come up with anything, Ron finally remembered how to talk. "You-you what?" he squeaked.
Hermione sighed. "Never mind," she whispered, and made as if to leave.
Hermione hadn't known Ron could move that fast; she'd barely taken three steps when he grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. Jumped the couch, noted some distant, disconnected part of her mind.
Ron's hands moved to her shoulders and held her firmly at arms' length. "You what?" he repeated, his voice low and intense. Startled she looked up and met his eyes. They were dark with that something else she had only caught glimpses of before and that had always sent a shiver down her spine. She shivered now. "Say it again," he commanded urgently. "You what?"
"I love you, Ron," she told him quietly.
"That's what I thought you said," he breathed, his arms dropping to his sides. "I thought…but I was sure I was mistaken." He put a hand to his forehead, paced away three steps, came back. "You love me," he reiterated, incredulous.
Hermione felt tears prick her eyes. "Look, Ron, just-just forget I ever said it, okay?"
Ron, still pacing, whirled suddenly to face her. "I will not! Don't you dare ask me to forget it, Hermione. Don't you dare!" He stalked towards her, seeming twice his normal size; Hermione couldn't help herself, she shrank away. "I have waited more than two years to hear you say those words, don't you dare pretend you didn't say them." He towered over her, his eyes flashing fiercely. "And don't ask me to either."
"Okay," she acquiesced, shocked by his outburst and blinking back tears. Why would Ron wait two years for her to tell him something like that? She didn't understand. In a whisper, she requested clarity. "Two years?"
"Oh Hermione." His voice dropped an octave and his whole body went still as he looked at her. He reached out to touch her hair, brushed it back out of her face, his expression intensely earnest. "I've loved you so long," he whispered. Almost desperately, he reached out and crushed her to him, burying his face in her hair. "I've loved you so long!"
He was hugging her. He was more than hugging her, he loved her. He loved her! She clung to him then with equal ferocity, sobbing quietly into his shoulder as his words sank in. Ron let her cry, his voice murmuring constantly in her ear as his grip tightened and his own tears wet the top of her head. After several minutes had passed, Ron's grip on her eased and he gently pulled away, though he didn't release her completely. Tenderly, he gazed down at her and cupped her face in his hands. "We have been stupid, haven't we?" he stated softly, wiping her tears away with his thumbs and ignoring the fact that his own face was wet.
Hermione smiled shakily. "Are you suggesting that I'm stupid, Ronald?" She arched an eyebrow, reaching for levity to break the seriousness of the last few minutes; reaching for the normalcy of mock argument.
Ron smiled briefly, only nibbling at the bait, "Only if the word "we" includes you."
Hermione gave up. "We have lots of time to make up for it."
"Do we?" he was teasing now, but there was a seriousness behind his question. He wanted this to be serious, and he wanted it to be long term. He also wanted assurance that she wanted the same.
And she was smirking. "You know we do." The look she gave him said he was stupid if he expected to get away with anything less.
Satisfied, Ron tugged her close again. "When should we start, then?" He canted an eyebrow in subtle suggestion, settling her comfortably against him.
She slid her arms around his neck in response and succumbed to the temptation to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Cocking her head up at him, she gave him a pointed look. "Now is good," she murmured, leaning forward.
Ron grinned. "Yes Ma'am," he teased, just before his lips met hers.
The kiss wasn't long, Hermione thought later, but it was very sweet. Warmth flooded through her almost instantly, leaving her tingling from head to toe, and her heart beat double time in her chest, but these were clinical observations made by the studious part of Hermione's brain just before she couldn't think anymore. Mostly there was an ecstatic joy. It pounded through her veins, exploded like fireworks in her mind, meshed with the beautiful sensations of Ron so close to her; the feel of his arms, the touch of his hands, the scent on his skin, the memory of the look in too blue eyes inches from hers; and it stole her breath away. She felt herself go weak in the knees, felt the strength of Ron's arms as he shifted to support her weight, felt herself melt against him. She could feel him through his kiss, that was the most amazing thing, not just his mouth and his arms and his hair between her fingers, but his courage and his strength, his humor and especially his love. It was all that was him and all that was her, coming together in a mutual understanding, and it was wonderful.
When it was over, it took her several seconds to recover enough to open her eyes, and even that was done slowly. Ron was watching her carefully for her reaction, his expression one of satisfaction and apprehension both. She smiled brilliantly up at him, realizing resignedly that she was going to be smiling that goofy smile for hours, and wonderingly covered her still-tingling lips with her hand. Then she thought of something, and her gaze sharpened.
"Just one thing, Ron," she told him sternly, fighting hard against the urge to grin.
He looked at her curiously. "What's that?"
"No more pretty Ravenclaw partners."
Ron just laughed and kissed her again. When he let her go, Hermione reluctantly turned her attention to the room around them.
"Just look at this mess," she said, her tone a mix of amazement and disgust. "How did I manage this much damage in such a short time?"
"You're talented, I suppose," Ron told her wryly, gazing at the debris piled…everywhere.
Hermione half-heartedly shot him a nasty look, the happiness she felt preventing any real malice, and decided the room could wait. Closing her eyes, she relaxed bonelessly against Ron's shoulder, absently noting that she was smiling again.
"We really should get started," Ron said after a minute or two of just standing together.
"We?" She turned surprised eyes on the boy standing next to her.
"Well you didn't think after all this I'd leave you to do it by yourself?" he glanced down at her, amused. "After all," he added, touching her cheek briefly with his fingertips, "I'm the one who caused you to do it in the first place. If I hadn't been such a git, you never would have gone insane." He grinned.
"Ron!" She blushed furiously, but he just laughed, taking her hand and gently squeezing it.
"Insane, honestly," she shook her head then looked around at the mess she'd made. "All-right then," she said and resolutely waved her wand. "Reparo!"
This was going to take awhile.
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Harry and Ginny, walking hand in hand back to Gryffindor tower later that evening, slowed abruptly when they rounded the last corner and took in the sight of the rather large crowd still gathered about the now open portrait hole, staring in. Exchanging confused glances, the two teenagers looked askance at their housemates and received only a confusing assortment of grins, knowing smiles, and shocked glances as they made their way to the front of the group. Getting the attention of a couple of fifth years nearest the entrance, Ginny motioned for them to move back and they did, just enough to allow she and Harry to see in. There, piled around the walls and on the furniture, were all the things Hermione had broken in her fit of anger, newly repaired and ready to be taken back to their proper places. All the furniture upholstery looked clean and good as new, and several of the paintings had regained their usual occupants. But none of this was what had drawn the crowd.
It wasn't even the people in the common room that had drawn attention. Ron and Hermione were common enough occupants, what with all the studying and chess playing done between the two of them. No it was what the two were doing that had captured the attention of every Gryffindor who'd thought to enter the common room in the last fifteen minutes.
Harry, relieved to have his best friends back (and in better condition than he'd left them), grinned down at Ginny, and she leapt through the opening with a happy squeal.
"I knew it!" she cried, pointing a finger at the happy couple. "I knew you fancied him!"
Hermione lifted her head from its place on Ron's shoulder and looked up at her friend rather smugly.
"Really?" she asked, pushing a strand of hair behind one ear before dropping her arm back around Ron's waist. "Me too." Ron, for his part, continued to hold her as if his sister hadn't said a word, his hand still lazily stoking her hair. Hermione pretended not to notice the disbelieving look Ginny was now giving the perpetually amused Harry Potter, instead focusing on the book in her lap and trying to keep a smile off her face. She had never been one for fairy-tale romances, and she certainly had never experienced one (no one could call her relationship with Ron a fairy-tale, not with a straight face anyway), but she could see now why Ginny kept insisting this sort of book was not completely useless. Read under the right conditions, it could be almost heart warming.
"But Harry, look at her! All smug as could be, as if I hadn't been telling her she fancied him for ages! And him too!"
"I know Ginny, but they already knew they fancied each other. They just didn't know they fancied each other. So your telling them they fancied each other was pointless, you see."
Ginny blinked. "Love, you're not making any sense."
Harry threw his hands into the air and retreated to another corner of the common room, where he began gathering repaired breakables for their return trip home. "Let it go, Gin. They're together now, and they're happy; that's all that matters."
"No! It's not! I mean, don't think I'm not glad that they're happy, I'm glad that they're happy, see? Glad." She smiled weirdly at him, as proof, then went on. "But I'm supposed to get some credit here. I mean, I worked so hard to get them together; they're not supposed to go do it all on their own! I never thought of making them fight! Why didn't I think of making them fight?" She seemed to be seriously considering the matter.
"Gin?" Harry lifted her chin with his free hand, so she'd look at him. "Just let it go."
"But who gets together by having a big fight?"
Harry shrugged. "It's Ron and Hermione," he stated simply, going back to collecting breakable objects from the piles on the floor. "Their way would have to be special."
"But I don't get any credit! How can I charge an exorbitant rate for my matchmaking skills in the future if I don't get credit to prove I have past experience?" Her wail caused her boyfriend to look up at her.
"Matchmaking skills in the future?"
"I want to be a matchmaker! I did well with us!" She cried at Harry's skeptical look.
"As I recall," Harry answered, motioning her to come pick up a vase he couldn't quite manage to reach with his load, "you had help with us. Hermione shoved you into it."
"I chose you!"
"Hermione chose Ron. Matchmakers are supposed to find matches, not put together existing ones."
"Harry, you are not being helpful here."
"Can you get that jar there too? Thank you."
Ginny sighed. "You're not even the least repentant."
Harry grinned and kissed her cheek. "Not a bit."
"Oh well. Can you pile breakable things in my arms too? If I try it myself, they'll just break." She frowned. "Again."
Hermione chuckled at the silliness of her friends, whom she loved dearly, then looked down at her book.
"And they lived happily ever after," Ron read over her shoulder. Hermione smiled contentedly and closed the book.
"Here's hoping." She paused to watch Harry and Ginny struggle to balance their burden of fragility and felt a spark of guilt. "We really should help them, you know."
"Hm. Maybe later."
Softly, Hermione laughed, and felt her smile widen when Ron returned it with a grin and then a kiss. Maybe she'd been wrong about today, she thought happily.
Maybe today was the best of days after all.
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(S)Taken from (in the order spoken by Hermione): The Two Noble Kinsmen, Macbeth, All's Well That Ends Well, Romeo and Juliet, As You Like It, Richard III
(SS)Taken from Stephen Bishop
Okay, this IS NOT! the last chapter. There's only one chapter left, as there are loose ends still to tie up, but this one is finished. Isn't that wonderful? I hope it explains why chapter nine was so necessary too; I mean really, Hermione would never have lost her temper like that if she hadn't had a really bad day the day before! Anyway, I hope you liked it, and I'll get right to work on the next, and last, chapter. Now, go review!
ER, just real quick. I want to apologize for two things: 1) if you're reading this for the first time and are confused by the way the chapters skip from one place/subject/time etc with no warning, so was I. When changed it's format, it got rid of all my dividers. Eventually I'll go back and edit and repost them, but not until the whole thing is done, so it'll be a bit. 2) if you started reading this earlier, and then didn't get a chance to finish, I'm sorry. I had to remove the chapter so that this one at least had some kind of divider (hence the S's everywhere). Sorry if there was any confusion.