A/N- let's just not even talk about my lack of writing over the last few weeks.

Stuff happens in this chapter that I am fully aware doesn't line up with the canon timeline of HBP. But, this is an AU story, and if you haven't noticed that yet, then… I don't know what to tell you. Things gon' be different. (Yes I said "gon' be." I've been watching a lot of Brooklyn 99)

Thank you so much for the lovely reviews. They make my day, especially as writing Hermione in a different house, with a different background is quite difficult, so the fact that so many of you seem to enjoy my writing of her really warms me.

Oh look, I've rambled again. Oops. Enjoy. Xxxx

Chapter 7 - Hogsmeade and Quidditch

As Hermione drew back her curtains, she winced awkwardly. Daphne almost never closed her own curtains, and Hermione didn't believe that it was only a coincidence that she had done, last night.

Hermione was so frustrated about Ron that she had practically stomped to bed, the night previous, not even lifting her gaze from her feet for a moment, as she walked through the still-ongoing party. She had had two arguments last night. And not one of them, did she have the upper hand. Hermione could shamelessly admit that she didn't at all mind putting people in their place, but with neither Ron nor Daphne was she successful with that, so what was the point?

Tentatively, she walked over to her best friend's bed, contemplating her approach. It wasn't as if she could knock on a set of curtains, but she was struggling to find her voice to announce her presence, too.

Fortunately, or possibly unfortunately, the curtains pulled back before Hermione could make a decision.

Daphne looked thoroughly exhausted; the tell-tale effects of her night with the other Slytherins. Even though her eyes were half-shut with the adjustment of being awake, Daphne narrowed them at Hermione, which she was half expecting.

"What do you want, Hermione?" Hermione wasn't sure if it was just the grogginess in her voice, or the actual tone that indicated she'd really rather not have woken up to her so-called friend.

"Um, can we talk about last night?" Hermione asked, looking around awkwardly. She supposed she wasn't quite used to being the apologiser. It was a perk of never being in the wrong, she concluded.

Daphne greatly sighed, although walked back towards her bed, crashing onto it without caution. Hermione sat beside her friend, folding her hands unsurely in her lap.

"So, how was your night?"

Daphne, who had lied back on her bed, looked up at Hermione suspiciously. "Do you really care?"

"Yes!" Hermione said all too quickly, but both girls knew better, revealing so with a shared smirk. Not all was lost then, Hermione thought positively. "Actually, I… I wanted to tell you that, when we spoke yesterday, you weren't… completely wrong."

Daphne comically gaped at Hermione, "are you really apologising?!"

"Well, I'd hardly go that far," scoffed Hermione, although Daphne grinned at her.

"What was I not completely wrong about that, then?" she smirked.

"Well," Hermione began, "I suppose you were quite right about the challenge. I don't really care all too much; to be honest, I'm not even sure why I got into such a fuss. I must've been genuinely unwell, because I really couldn't care less what Ron Weasley gets up to." She was pleased to observe her friend go easily convinced. It wasn't utterly a lie, but Hermione knew that implying that she was completely unbothered about Ron was… untrue.

"It's okay. If we're being honest, you weren't totally wrong, either," admitted Daphne, somewhat sheepishly.

"Oh?" Hermione implored her to expand.

"Well…" Daphne seemed to have reservations about what she was going to say, and Hermione was quite sure she could work it out for herself. "Are you really not that fussed on the challenge?"

"Of-of course not," Hermione maintained, praying there was more conviction in what she said than she, herself, believed.

"Okay, well, if it's completely alright with you, I wasn't completely-not-flirting with Ron, or at least, I wasn't particularly trying not to. I'm actually thinking of asking him out. I don't know what it is about him, Hermione, but I like him. I really do..."

Daphne's voice elevated with more and more excitement as she delved into the subject of Ron. Hermione knew that she was nodding along on the outside, although on the inside, she was a bundle of conflictions.

She didn't like Ron. She couldn't. He was nothing like her, they hadn't an ounce in common; on paper, they were fit to be as good as enemies. But, when Hermione thought about him with Daphne, her feelings couldn't help but dampen. But what was she to do, now? She had essentially just told Daphne that she hardly cared for the boy, how ridiculous would she look if she retracted that nearly straight away?

"So, are you going to? Ask him out, I mean?" Hermione asked.

"I want to," said Daphne longingly, "but we get on so well in Transfiguration, I don't want to make that awkward if things go south, you know? I mean, I hardly think he'd feel the same. I'm a Slytherin, for one.."

As Daphne rambled on about her self-doubts, Hermione became lost in another whirlwind of internal musings. She'd love to agree with Daphne, and the bitter side of her was in mostly agreement. Ron couldn't possibly like Daphne, could he?

But could he? They were awfully similar, made each other laugh, could go a whole hour without bickering, which Hermione wasn't sure she had ever managed with Ron. And the Slytherin bit could hardly bother him, if he was willing enough to flirt with her in lessons.

"...I don't know, what do you think?"

Hermione blinked at her friend. What did she think? Well, for one, she thought that the best thing to do would tell Daphne no, he won't like you back, it'd be a waste of time. But then, she'd have to admit to not only herself, but to others that she wasn't completely happy to think of Ron with someone. Else.

So, she went with what she thought the smartest thing to do was. "I think that you've never let the fear of rejection stop you from getting something you really want. So why start now?"

Daphne gleamed at her best friend, but Hermione found she couldn't quite find the satisfaction that ought to come from eliciting such a smile from your friend.

"Thank you! Okay, I'll keep you updated. Right, I better go shower. It's Hogsmeade day, isn't it?"

"Oh- yes." Hermione had nearly forgotten.

Daphne, still smiling, got up from her bed and stretched, before looking back over her shoulder to Hermione. "Oh, and if he says anything on rounds about me, you'll let me know, right?"

Hermione swallowed. "Of course." She wondered if her voice conveyed how difficult the compliance was.

Her mood had been nothing but a chaotic verse of fluctuations since the morning began, and Hermione decided she actually could've done without the visit to Hogsmeade today.

Walking into the village with Daphne seemed a brilliant idea, until all she seemed to be able to talk about was the things she could do to Ron. Hermione had worn forced smiles the whole way, and was thankful to have a moment of peace at the bar of the Three Broomsticks as she awaited service.

Well, almost peace.

"Hey."

Hermione looked up to find a hesitant Ron beside her, their arms forced to sidle next to each other due to the business of the bar.

"Hi." Hermione looked straight ahead, remaining cool and passive.

"Weather's a bit grim today."

Hermione couldn't help it. She turned her head back to Ron, looking at him pointedly, almost silently mocking his lame statement. Ron seemed to get the gist, as a smirk crept on his face.

She tried with all of her might, but Hermione couldn't fight her own smile.

"So, are we friends again now?" he cheekily asked.

"I wasn't actually aware we were friends in the first place, and if that was the case, then I don't think it was very friend-like of you to insinuate there was something wrong with me," she teased.

"Well, you accused me of flirting! In a lesson!" Ron crossed his arms over his chest, pretending to be affronted.

Hermione shook her head. "You know, I really hope that you never pursue a career in acting, Ron, because-"

As she turned around, she felt a bout of guilt. Daphne had admitted to Hermione that she liked Ron; it wouldn't bode well if Daphne caught them talking up at the bar. But, when Hermione glanced nervously over at Daphne, she furrowed her brows. Daphne was completely flirting with Marcus Belby! Well, she couldn't like Ron that much, if she was-

"You okay?" asked Ron, trying to pinpoint what she was looking at.

Hermione looked back at him, watching his blonde eyelashes as he blinked, before her eyes travelled over the rest of his face.

"I'm fine," she sighed.

"Alright, well, I'll… catch you later, then?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously. "Are you okay, Ron?"

He shook his head dismissively, "just, y'know, pre-match nerves."

She studied him, before realising what he was talking about; the first Quidditch match of the season. "Oh. But the game isn't until tomorrow?"

"I know." He sounded as if he had heard that same reasoning a few times before. "I just get quite nervous thinking about it."

"Well, you should be nervous."

He looked at her perplexedly.

"You're playing against Slytherin, aren't you?" she smirked.

Colour gradually returned to Ron's cheeks as he chuckled at her. "The fact it's Slytherin that I'm playing against is the least of my worries." Although he seemed as if he was lying.

"Are you implying that we have a bad Quidditch team?" she asked.

"That is exactly what I'm implying," he laughed, paying for the butterbeers he had ordered. "Maybe you should join the team, give them a bit of help," he smirked.

Hermione scoffed. "I'd sooner jump from the Astronomy Tower! You would never catch me on a broom."

"Don't tell me you're scared of flying on a broom?" said Ron.

She mirrored his incredulous look. "They are impractical and extremely dangerous."

"Is that why Blaise isn't on the Quidditch team, then?" he teased.

"For heaven's sake," she huffed, although it was good natured. "Blaise and I are friends. Why are you so obsessed with my love life anyway?" she asked with a suspicious smirk.

Before Ron could splutter an answer, none other than Harry Potter walked up to him, taking one of the drinks out of his hands.

"I wondered why you were taking so long to get two bloody bottles of butterbeer- oh, hi-"

His eyes widened with embarrassment as he clearly struggled to remember Hermione's name.

"Hermione," supplied Ron, and she felt warm at him saying her name. Oh, get a grip, for the love of Merlin, she internally admonished.

"Right. Hermione. Sorry, I'm rubbish with names," apologised Harry, although Hermione had a feeling that he was confused as to why Ron and her were talking.

"Well, I better go back to my friends," she said, the three of them standing together awkwardly. "I probably won't be going, so, good luck for tomorrow, Ron."

"Uh- cheers," he replied, seemingly surprised at her gesture.

"That's Hermione who you do rounds with, I take it?" asked Harry as they sat at their booth.

Ron nodded, opening his butterbeer and absently scanning the room.

"The one that Neville said was gorgeous?"

"Yeah," said Ron firmly, as if challenging Harry to say differently.

Harry ascertained his tone, and hastily sought to redeem himself. "Oh, cool, I didn't think you were friends."

"Friends is a bit of a stretch," sighed Ron.

"Oh?" Harry said, smirking at Ron knowingly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "She's a bit… I don't even know, really," he chuckled.

"And what would poor Mrs Weasley say if her little Ronnie brought home a Slytherin?" teased Harry.

"Fuck off," he laughed. "As I said, we're only just about friends."

Ginny joined their table, which seemed to fluster Harry a bit - something which Ron found odd. The three of them went over Quidditch tactics for a while, and Ron's nerves came back with full force. Nerves he had all but forgotten about while he was up at the bar.

The pub began to clear out, and the three of them were soon to join the crowd of students walking back up to school.

"Bloody hell," cried Ron as they watched Katie Bell fly into the air, only to drop back down; unconscious.

Her friend, Leanne, was distressed, shouting something about a necklace that Katie had found in the loo.

As they hurried over to Katie, Harry snapped his head to Ron, "I saw Malfoy going into the toilets, Ron, I swear."

Ron had hardly believed Harry when he shared the thought that Malfoy may be a Death Eater, but he wouldn't put it past him to pull something sketchy like this.

As he knelt beside Katie, Ron looked over his shoulder for someone to help, only to find Hermione and Daphne walking up the path.

Harry was the one to shoot up immediately, marching over to the Slytherin duo.

"Where's Malfoy?" he demanded, directing the question to both of them.

Ron rushed to keep up, just in time for Hermione to ask, "excuse me?" at Harry's tone.

"What's Malfoy up to?" he snapped.

"We have no idea what you're talking about, and there's no need to be so rude," Hermione snapped back, before looking at Ron. "What's happened?"

He shook his head, "I'm not even sure, Katie found this necklace apparently."

Ron watched after Hermione warily. She was friends with Malfoy, so there was a possibility, if he had done something, that she might have an idea of what.

Hermione walked over to the scene, ignoring the stereotypically nervous glances from the Gryffindor girl beside the one on the floor. Her eyebrows rose as she peered at the necklace; having only read about something like it briefly once.

"It's a cursed necklace," she announced.

"And how come you know?" Harry demanded once again, and Hermione glared at him in return.

"Because I can read, Potter. Why? Do you think just because my badge is green means I had something to do with this? Unbelievable," she huffed, looking over to Ron, enraged - and slightly hurt - at the look of uneasiness on his face. "You think I had something to do with this, too, do you?"

The colour quickly drained from his face, "no!" he quickly denied, looking frantically between her and Harry. "No," he reaffirmed.

"I'd hardly believe a student would be capable of being behind this," she said icily, in response to Harry's ever-sceptical look.

"Well who do you think's behind it, then?" he retorted.

She rolled her eyes, "honestly, it's not my problem. If I were you, though, I'd find someone who can actually help your friend. Instead of pointing the finger at someone you just don't like. Come on, Daphne."

Hermione shouldn't have even been surprised to see Daphne talking to Ron; both of them looking as if they lost interest in her and Harry's argument. She closed her eyes with a sigh, willing herself not to snap at them, too.

"Yeah, sorry, Hermione. See you, Ron," said Daphne, and Ron waved at the both of them.

"Can you even believe it?" huffed Hermione as she and Daphne walked back up towards the school. "Assuming that we had something to do with whatever that silly girl got herself into!"

"Well, I think Harry's just paranoid with everyone, to be honest," Daphne reasoned, but Hermione glared at her.

"You're defending him, are you?"

"No, of course not. He shouldn't have accused us, especially the way he did! But I'm just giving reason to why he did so."

Hermione nodded slightly at her point. During their silence, she remembered what she witnessed in the pub earlier. "So, I saw you and Marcus Belby today," she smirked.

"Oh," dismissed Daphne with a wave of her hand. "Marcus is only a friend - if that - he's terribly annoying."

Hermione couldn't help but deflate at the revelation. "So you still like Ron, then?"

"Of course!" answered Daphne. "He's just lovely, isn't he?"

"He's… alright," Hermione supplied, being careful with her word choice.

"And the first Quidditch game's tomorrow. I'm not sure who to support," she chuckled. "Ron plays Keeper for Gryffindor, you know."

"I know," said Hermione reflexively. But she wished she hadn't, for the air around them became awkward again. "You're going to the match, tomorrow, then?" she asked to change the tone.

"I wouldn't miss it! You're coming, too, right?" said Daphne, looking at Hermione imploringly.

Hermione shook her head, "I'm not sure, I've got quite a lot of work-"

"Oh, come on, you can't be doing work on a Sunday! Especially when there's Quidditch on!"

"You know that I've never much liked Quidditch."

"But Slytherin are playing!"

"Okay, maybe…"

And, not twenty-four hours after, Hermione found herself walking to the pitch beside Daphne, tugging at the green scarf around her neck.

"I'm not sure why I let you convince me to come," she commented to Daphne, "it's freezing!"

Daphne laughed in return. "It'll be better up in the stands - let's go find a seat."

"You go on, I'm going to pop to the toilet first," said Hermione, eyeing the makeshift portaloos that laid beside the pitch.

Daphne nodded, and the two girls parted. Hermione scanned the pitch surreptitiously, yet curiously couldn't find Ron. She wondered, for a moment, if his nerves had got the better of him in the end, but she hoped not. The only reason she had humoured Daphne by coming today was for Ron, really.

The toilets - as predicted - were awful, so Hermione decided against using them. It was rather fortunate that she decided against using them, though, as when she walked back around to the field, she bumped into Ron.

"I thought you weren't coming," he said. And although his tone was playful, Hermione could tell something wasn't right. Not only was he morbidly pale, but he was not-so-surreptitiously wiping the corner of his mouth with the sleeve of his jersey.

"I changed my mind. Are you alright, Ron?" she asked concernedly.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Hermione shook her head at him. "Because you look as if you've just been sick," she put quite bluntly.

He sighed defeatedly, looking back toward the field as if someone would hear them. "I told you, I just get a bit nervous."

"Yes but, Ron. You look awful!"

"Cheers," he said whilst rolling his eyes.

She looked at him pointedly. "I'm not saying it to be rude! You seem really unwell! Are you like this before every Quidditch game?"

"More or less, but it's not that bad," he hastily countered.

Giving a great sigh, Hermione looked toward the field, herself. "Well the match is about to begin, so you better go." She didn't see the point in going through this every time he played Quidditch, but there was no point arguing her case now.

"Are you going to wish me luck, at least?" she said, grinning mischievously.

"What? Wish you luck that you can keep your lunch down for the game, at least?"

He pretended to be deeply hurt by what she said, bringing a hand to his chest. "Just when I thought we were friends."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "fine. Good luck. Although, don't have too much luck - I'm still supporting the opposing house."

"'Course," he said with a comedic wink, which Hermione only shook her head at.

"Goodbye, Ron," she said, leaving him to go sit in the stands, a small smile forcing its way onto her face.

Hermione secretly thanked Daphne for the seats she had chosen. If she was genuinely concerned about how Slytherin were going to do, then she may have wanted a seat closer to the middle - able to catch all of the action. But from their far-left seat, they were offered a brilliant view of the three hoops which Slytherin were trying to score through… which Gryffindor were trying to defend.

She still couldn't say she found the game at all entertaining, although Hermione doubted she had stayed so invested in a match before. Gryffindor were in the lead throughout the whole game, which should've bothered her; much like watching Ron almost effortlessly save every goal should've bothered her, but neither did.

It was hardly a surprise when Harry ended the game with a quick catch of the snitch. Draco, Hermione noticed as Daphne nudged her, looked hardly bothered, himself. That was unusual, she noted. It was only four years ago that Draco bought his way on the team, so to see him lack such dedication now was peculiar.

But it was nothing like witnessing what she did next.

The Gryffindor team all soared triumphantly to the pitch, chanting and shouting to Ron, who was last to make it to the group. Hermione couldn't help but smile at the proud look on his face, knowing just a glimpse of how nervous he had been.

But her smile soon faltered.

She could hear Daphne's gasp, but it was almost inaudible over the sound of thudding in Hermione's own ears. Lavender Brown, a girl Hermione only vaguely recognised for somehow making the Slug Club, came running towards Ron, arms flinging forcefully around his neck as she kissed him.

And, despite the obvious initial shock, he kissed back.

"For fuck's sake." Daphne's flippant remark brought Hermione back, and even made her question if the feeling in her stomach was a pure overreaction. But… was it?

Yes was the simple answer. She shook her head as she watched the Gryffindors, cheering for Ron as he and Lavender continued to suffocate each other in the middle of the whole school. Of course it was an overreaction, Hermione thought, unable to tear her eyes from the scene.

Her and Ron Weasley were nothing more than two people who patrolled the hallway together. And at that, it was only Ron Weasley. Only Ron Weasley, Hermione kept repeating as they walked back up to the school in a mass of crowds.

Only Ron Weasley.

After hours of celebrating, and snogging, Ron felt delirious as he stumbled into his dormitory for the night.

What a day! But no one could celebrate too much, considering they had lessons the next morning. Merlin, who's big idea was it to hold a Quidditch match on a Sunday? But not even that could dampen Ron's spirits too much: a win for Gryffindor, and a girlfriend - all in one day!

He chuckled happily to himself as he walked into the dorm, trying to be cautious as he knew the other boys would be asleep by now - Lavender wanted to say a proper goodnight, which meant being the last two people in the common room. Although, he couldn't complain.

Walking to his bed, Ron stubbed his toe on something obstructing his path. "Fuuuck," he whispered harshly, bending down and nursing his sore toe. With a quick "lumos" he identified the source of unbelievable toe pain. Harry's photo album. Poor sod, thought Ron glumly as he picked up the book which mostly held photos of Harry's parents.

The book was currently flipped open to a random page, but it caught his interest. It was the original Order, all those years ago. Harry had already shown Ron, but it was always interesting to see how the original Order members looked - especially as most of them were still part of it.

This time, though, Ron's eyebrows shot up further than they ever had as he scanned the faces. Right there, in the middle, was a woman that Ron was sure he could recognise.

He gasped softly. Could it… could it be? It had to.

Down on the frayed and old photograph, waved Hermione Granger's mother.