'You never liked me? But everyone said... We were destined... Meant for each other!'

Hermione looks up at Ron. His hair flashes in the light as he shakes it violently, like a wildfire. 'No, no... This can't be happening. We're destined to be! It's what everyone said.'

'I don't believe in destiny, and neither should you after what it did to Harry.'

'That's different. 'Mione, come on. Harry was told he had to kill someone or end up dying, but we weren't told by any prophecy. It's just obvious to everyone that we fit together really well. You make me a better person, and I thought you liked me too!'

'I do like you. Just not like that. You're like a brother to me.' Hermione rubs her eyes. It's late, not past curfew but getting on, and she had a Transfiguration essay to do. So does Ron, for that matter. 'Ron, come on. It's not meant to be, or any of that fate bullshit. We make our own fate, and while you're part of mine - I couldn't bear it if you weren't - you're part of mine as a friend, not anything more.'

Ron glares at her. 'You don't mean that.'

'If I didn't why would I say it?' She snaps, finally annoyed out of her mind. 'Get it through your skull. We're not destined. I don't like you that way.'

'Is it Harry?'

'What?' She frowns, flinches back.

He leans forward. 'It is, isn't it. You like Harry!'

'Why do you need an excuse for me not liking you? Maybe I'm not attracted to you. Maybe your personality is atrocious sometimes. Maybe all the times you never finish your work and convince me to do it instead finally got to me!'

'You and Harry. Well, don't expect me to give you my blessing.'

'Harry's like a brother to me!' She shouts. 'Just like you were, before this.'

He clenches his fists. 'Well, you're a know-it-all, ugly, and have no friends other than Harry and I! And after I tell him about you, you'll have no friends.'

Hermione feels her face freeze over. Her voice is icy cold when she says, 'Leave, Ronald. Now.' She emphasizes the order with a vicious movement of her wand that causes a vase full of red tulips and slightly brown-looking water to empty over his head. He snarls, turns on his heel, and storms out of the common room.

'What are you looking at?' She snaps at two second-years in the corner, who had been playing chess and were now staring open-mouthed at her and the spot where Ron had been. 'I'm a prefect. I can give you detention.' She spits, before climbing out of the common room just as Ron had a minute before.

She knows it's not fair to the second-years to snap at them. If older students had had fights like that when she was in second year she definitely would have stared, open mouth and all. But she's not feeling particularly fair or rational at the moment. All she wants is to get to the library. She needs to finish this essay, and she'll be damned if Ron prevents her from finishing homework.

Plus, her familiar spot, the familiar smell of old books and the sounds of parchment and quiet chatter will calm her.

She slings open the door to the library with perhaps more force than needed. Yes, she definitely needs to calm down.

Her spot is taken. She grits her teeth and clenches her fist. That's the spot she has sat in almost every day she's been at this school. That's seven years! There's no way some usurper is going to take it from her now.

It's a Slytherin, that much is clear from the green lining on the robes. She's pretty sure it's a girl, but not convinced.

She clears her throat meaningfully and taps the Slytherin on their shoulder. They turn.

Hermione sighs. 'Parkinson. That's my spot. I've had a rough day, so I'd appreciate it if you'd just move.'

The black-haired girl wrinkles her large nose at her. 'It doesn't belong to you.'

'No, but I've been here pretty much every day at Hogwarts.'

Parkinson sighs in defeat, and Hermione is surprised. She rarely gives in so easily. Maybe the comment about a rough day got through?

'Know-it-all.' She mutters as she reaches for her quill to pack it up.

Hermione freezes. Know-it-all, ugly, and you have no other friends. His mouth is twisted in a vicious sneer and his eyes gleam with the knowledge that he struck a blow.

It's not like she's never thought of them before. The first part of the first year, she really didn't have any friends, and she heard the comments the others said about her. Ron was just as cruel to her then as he had been just earlier.

To her embarrassment, she breaks down. Tears stream from her face and she covers them with her hands. She doesn't want Parkinson to see her like this. No doubt she'll run off to tell all the other Slytherins. But, Hermione's sure, only after she's laughed about it and mocked her awfully for it.

'Hey. You okay? What happened? Was it because I called you a know-it-all?' The other girl's voice is bewildered. Hermione almost laughs.

'You should take it as a compliment, you know. Turn the insults others use against you as a form of encouragement. It wouldn't even take that much with this one. I literally said you know everything. It's kind of stupid that it's an insult in the first place. Seriously, Granger, stop crying!'

This time Hermione does laugh, sniffly and slightly damp, but there.

'Sorry. You can leave now.'

'Geez, Granger? You think I'm going to just leave you there crying. How heartless do you think I am?'

Hermione doesn't say the answer: very.

Pansy - wait, when did she think of her like that? No, Hermione, don't connect with her just because she's not being spiteful - Parkinson shakes her head. 'I know, I know, I've been awful. If it helps, I do regret it. It's mainly because, well, my family, their expectations.'

Hermione looks back down. She doesn't say anything, just wipes her tears away.

'Well, if you're here you may as well listen. Tell me if you want me to stop.' Parkinson begins. 'My family, well, first off I was taught that Death Eaters were good, that Voldemort was good, not to think for myself. I was indoctrinated with it from a very young age. And you know, the pureblood families are very traditional. I was expected to marry Draco,' here she shudders, 'Ew, and to bear his children and not have a job and let him provide for me. I love him, of course, and he's amazing, no matter what you Gryffindors think, but not like that. I could never love him like that!'

'That's another part. My parents expect me to be straight. I'm very much not. You're a muggleborn, so I'm assuming you know what a lesbian is?' She doesn't wait for an answer. 'Yeah, that's me.'

Hermione listens in astonishment as someone she used to hate, ended up pitying but avoiding, spills her life story, her woes and struggles, to her.

'When my parents found out I wasn't straight, they cursed me. Cruciatus. They called in one of Voldemort's lackeys. Bellatrix? I think you've met her too.'

Hermione couldn't stop the shudder that goes through her. Her arm tightens around herself.

'Yeah.' Pansy says, laughing with no humour. 'I heard about your arm. Mudblood carved in? That's probably worse than mine. Longer, at least. Although if you consider the fact that I'm related to her…'

Hermione looks up. 'How can you talk about it like that?'

'Talking now?' She says with a wry twist of her mouth. ' I have to laugh about it, compare scars with others, because the other option is crying, collapsing and never getting up. Although that does sound nice…'

Hermione shakes her head. 'That's me most days.'

'That's fair. You went through just as much as I did, maybe more, I don't know. Most of it's rumours. But you should be allowed to cope whatever way you do. I'm just telling you mine.'

She sighs. 'Look, I can't believe you're telling me this.'

Pansy laughs. 'Me neither! But at least it got you to stop crying.'

Hermione stands up, bracing herself on the table that Pansy had been at. The other girl rises as well.

'What happened?' Pansy says bluntly. 'Sorry, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to.'

'It's fine.' She shakes her head. 'Ron tried to profess his undying love for me.'

Pansy raises an eyebrow. 'You… Started crying? From happiness?'

She snorts. 'Hardly. I told him he's more like a brother to me.'

Pansy laughs. 'Huh. I always thought you and the Weasel were destined.'

'So did he.' She says bitterly.

'Look, I'm assuming he said some awful things?'

Hermione nods, thinking over them again.

'Firstly, don't think about them. I can guarantee you he didn't mean them. Secondly, do you still want to be friends with him?'

Hermione considers. 'Not particularly.'

Parkinson smiles. 'What about Potter? Whose side do you think he will take?'

'Probably Ron's.' She says bitterly. 'He'll be sympathetic to me, but in the end he'll sit with Ron, help him with his homework in my stead, and generally babysit him like I used to.'

'Come sit with me.'

'What?'

Pansy smirks at her. 'Scared, Granger?'

'Yes.'

She throws back her head and laughs. 'At least you're honest.'

Hermione makes a snap decision, looking at the dark-haired girl with her head tilted, the sunlight shining on her. 'But I'll do it.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

Pansy pauses, then smiled again. 'Great.'

'We can share the table if you want.' Hermione offers, quite generously, she thinks. Pansy just laughs again.