"Ron?"
I walked into the Gryffindor common room to find many familiar faces: Seamus, Dean, Lavender, and Parvati, among others. Ron, however, was not among them.
"Hey, have you seen Ron?" I asked Lavender. She had liked Ron for a while, so I expected her to know where he was at all times. She was almost as obsessive as Romilda Vane had been over Harry.
"No," she said, suddenly alert. "Why are you looking for him?"
I had the thought that maybe I shouldn't have asked her. "I just need to talk to him."
"About what?" She pressed.
"About something," I said elusively. She was getting annoying.
"He's upstairs," Dean chimed in, saving me from any further interrogation from the paranoid Lavender Brown.
"Thanks, Dean," I said before I went up to the boy's dormitory.
When I went in, I saw that all of the beds were empty except Ron's. He was lying down, reading something that looked like the Transfiguration textbook.
"Ron? Can I come in?"
He looked over and nodded. I walked over and sat down on his bed.
"What are you reading?" I asked him, just to make sure.
"Transfiguration textbook. I don't get this stuff so well."
"Really?" I said, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice. He must have picked up on it, because he shut the book loudly, sat up, and turned to me with an irritated expression.
"What? Does everyone think I'm stupid or something? At least you and Malfoy do, don't you?"
"Ron, I don't think you're stupid at all! It's just that in the past you haven't really studied as hard, you know? I don't mean that in a bad way, it's just true," I explained. He paused for a second before continuing on in the same frustrated tone.
"Well why him over me? He's such a prick, and yet there you are, all cuddling and shit in his arms like he's your damn boyfriend or something—"
"Ron! Stop it!" I said sternly. I sighed and pushed my hair behind my ear. "Ron, he caught me from falling, alright? Otherwise I would've fallen flat on my face. You're just over thinking everything."
He stayed silent for a moment. "You serious?"
I sighed again and rolled my eyes. "Yes, Ron. You're starting to sound like you would've rather had me break my nose on the ground than have Malfoy save me from falling."
"Okay, I get it," he said, raising a hand. "I wouldn't want that to happen, really. You're much too pretty for that." He grinned at me and lay back down.
I smiled a little and picked up the Transfiguration textbook to distract myself from Ron's compliment. I couldn't tell if he was being genuine or if it was a flirty joke, and it bothered me.
"Well, I should get going," I said, handing him the textbook awkwardly. "Good luck with your studying, and if you need anything then just tell me, okay?"
He nodded and took the book. As I stood up, he grabbed my arm.
"Hey, Hermione?"
"Yeah?"
"Sorry about earlier," he said. I gave him a small smile. "And thanks for coming back for me when I was being a git."
"Of course, Ron," I said, giving him a smile. "See you later, 'kay?" I waved goodbye and closed the door.
I made my way back down to the common room and out the door before Lavender could stop me again with her stupid questions. I found myself taking a roundabout route back to my dorm, wondering what exactly was going on between Malfoy and Ron: Why was Ron always so overprotective and paranoid when I was around Malfoy? And why did Malfoy fight back, when he didn't even have to in the first place? Was all of this stupidity over me, or was I just letting everything get to me?
I got to the dormitory portrait, and as I said the password, the lady paused before letting me through.
"You are Miss Granger, are you not?" She asked me, peering at me over her cup of tea. I nodded. "Well then," she said, setting down the cup, "there's a noisy group of boys in there—Slytherins, all of them. And one of them was talking about you."
That last bit piqued my interest, and I temporarily forgot about how frustrated I was at how Malfoy had just let his friends in again without telling me.
"Really? … Who, exactly?" I asked, almost hoping she would say Malfoy.
"Actually, more than one, really. At first it was just the dark one and that Mister Malfoy," she explained, giving me a wink. I smiled and let her continue, waiting for what she had to tell me. "Blondie said something about how someone—oh, what was his name—Weasel? Was an 'overreacting idiot,' as he put it. He was telling the dark boy about how he was much too protective of you and that Weasel wouldn't let you get close to Blondie at all."
I raised my eyebrow. This was getting quite interesting indeed: Malfoy was complaining to Blaise Zabini about Ron and how he wouldn't let me around him… Something that I wouldn't have thought Malfoy to care about much.
"Interesting," I said.
"Oh yes," she continued. "The dark boy seemed a little suspicious of him, for some reason. I don't know why, I have no idea what goes around here with you students," she shrugged, sipping her tea again. "Anyway, then they went inside, and I didn't catch anything else of what they were saying. But a little while later two more boys came by—knew the password, somehow, have to change that—both tall, but one of them was quite lanky, and the other one had darker hair and was heavier. I didn't really like either of them much at all. They said something about hoping you were inside already, followed by some disgusting… Never mind. You don't want to know."
I grit my teeth. Without a doubt, she was talking about Theodore Nott and Marcus Flint. "I know what you're talking about, sadly," I said, sighing. "They all still in there?" She nodded. "Oh well, I don't really have a choice but to face the music, do I?" I laughed a little, and she daintily waved to me as the portrait swung open.
As she said, there they all were, occupying all of the couches again. Upon seeing me, Malfoy stood up.
"Granger, before you get upset, I didn't plan this," he said, gesturing to everyone. Blaise looked at me and mouthed, "yes he did."
"I think you're a little late for that," I said, crossing my arms. He wasn't lying about that, I was pretty sure, but I had the opportunity to tease him right now and I was going to take it.
"The other two came in on their own," he explained. "Really. I just brought Blaise with me."
"Right," I said. "So you gave them the password?"
He opened his mouth and then closed it. I raised my eyebrow. "So they can get in at any time they want to?"
"Yeah, that's right. Any time I want," Flint said creepily. I just ignored him as best I could, but Malfoy turned to glare at him with something like intense loathing.
"I guess we're going to have to change the password, then," I said practically.
"Yeah, okay," he said. "But Granger, really, I would've told you earlier if I had known they were coming."
I continued to stare at him suspiciously, my arms still crossed.
"You don't believe me, do you?" He said in a vexed tone.
I uncrossed my arms and headed for the stairs. "Nah, I was just messing with you," I said, flashing him a sly smile. He just stared at me as Blaise snorted and Nott snickered. With that, I went up the stairs to my room to finish the pile of work stacked on my vanity before dinner came around.
"Granger?"
I jumped slightly at the sound of my name and turned around. Malfoy was standing in my doorway, his hand on the doorknob.
"Could you knock next time?" I said, pushing my hair out of my face with my right hand.
"I did," he said, a bit confused.
"Oh, sorry," I said quickly. I realized that my room wasn't that orderly at the moment, with books around my feet and some clothes lying around draped over chairs. Worst of all, that green sweater was lying in plain sight on my bed. "Anyway, you came up to…?"
"Right," he said. "Owl just came through the kitchen window. Dumbledore's approved the idea of a Winter Masquerade Ball, and we have to meet with the other Prefects after dinner to organize it."
I frowned. "Winter Ball? I haven't even heard of such a notion."
"Well, now you have. They're thinking sometime in next month, or something," he paused. "And we have to go."
I sighed and got up, checking the clock on the wall. It was just about time for dinner. "I don't really care, it's just a ball," I said. It wasn't like I didn't go to the Yule Ball in fourth year; this wouldn't be any different.
"Together."
I looked up. We had to go… Together? "Wait, who decided that?" I asked, a little frustrated. I hated it when people made decisions without me.
"Everyone else, I guess," he shrugged. I could tell that he felt uncomfortable with either how I had taken the news, or that he had to go with me (of all people). He ran his hand through his light blonde hair, ruffling it so that it was a bit messy—a telltale sign that he was nervous.
"Oh," I said. I waited for a second, thinking it over. "Whatever. I don't really mind," I added, walking past him onto the staircase landing. "You coming? It's dinnertime."
He caught up with me and walked with me down the stairs. "Wait," he said. "You don't mind?"
I laughed a little. "What? It's not a big deal. You aren't so bad anyway," I said, keeping my voice calm. In my mind, I was equally surprised that he wasn't the one complaining about having to go with me.
"I'm not?" He asked with more than a hint of surprise.
"Goodness, no," I said jokingly. "I thought that you would be the one to lose it over having to run around with me at a ball in front of the entire school." I bit my lip in anticipation, slightly scared of what he would say. I expected something along the lines of being aghast at having to carry me on his arm in public; me, the best friend of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
"I don't have any problem with that," he said quietly as his arm brushed against mine. I let out silent gasp at the contact and looked away anxiously, tucking a brown curl behind my ear. I realized that he was probably waiting for some response, so I nodded quickly. As we neared the portrait, my fingers unintentionally swept past his when I lowered my arm. There was something like a small spark that I could feel travelling up my arm from where we touched. I knew that he had felt it too, and I could sense him looking at me. Against better judgment, I returned his stare. It was just for a fleeting moment, but I felt that he wanted to say something to me; I just couldn't place what. His deep gray eyes were too hard to read, and I broke the gaze before I said something that perhaps I myself was wishing to put into words this whole time.
"Come on, we'll be late for dinner," I said hastily as I pushed open the portrait, eager to leave the confusing atmosphere that we were just stuck in. Malfoy followed me out the door, and soon we were walking together and talking casually as if nothing had happened. But we both knew that we were just hiding something from each other, some feeling that we had yet to reveal—some emotion in me that even I couldn't understand.
