Hermione's feelings for Ron grows, but then she does something stupid that might put a stop to their flourishing relationship before it even has a chance to begin.

Late Friday afternoon finds Hermione in Transfiguration class, struggling to concentrate as her classmates, who have already abandoned the charm they are supposed to be working on, loudly discuss their weekend plans. The noise reverberates around the classroom, bouncing off the high ceilings and around the students, causing a ringing in her ears. She yearns to yell at them all to shut up so that she can focus on her work, but during school hours, her Prefect status means nothing.

Plus, she could do without all of her class hating her.

As though fed up with the clamour, and to Hermione's relief, Professor McGonagall unfolds herself from behind her desk and gets to her feet, clapping her hands together four times before waiting. Like a Mexican wave travelling from the front to the back of the classroom, her students recognise the demand for silence, and, eventually, quiet fills the room.

"Well, I can see we will need another lesson on this charm before we can move on to teacup to gerbil transfigurations, aside from Miss Granger, who is the only student to successfully change her feather duster into a ferret."

At least I'm succeeding in one of my classes.

McGonagall locks her hands behind her back before pacing the front of the classroom. The light brown creature on Hermione's table lets out an indignant squeak then tries to run away, managing to make it to the end of the desk before Ron reaches out to capture it. A low chuckle escapes his lips as he passes the animal back to Hermione.

"You need to keep a better grip on your pet," he whispers with a smirk. "You don't want your ferret taking a leap of faith and topping itself, do you?"

Although she tries her best to force some form of response out of her lips, all she can do is giggle, her cheeks turning bright red at the ridiculousness of the girly reaction. Why is it that all of a sudden, she's unable to form a coherent conversation with the guy she's been friends with for six years?!

Ron's smirk grows wider, and to her dismay, he looks like he might continue his teasing when McGonagall clears her throat, drawing his attention back to the front of the class.

"I would like for all of you, apart from Miss Granger, to practice the charm. On top of that, I would like nine inches on what might go wrong should you get the incantation incorrect. By class next Wednesday please." She pauses as the class grumbles at the double homework, shooting them a warning look that quiets them instantly. "You are all dismissed."

Without waiting for the classroom to empty, Professor McGonagall turns on her heel and disappears into her office, the loud clunk of the door shutting behind her emphasising the end of her lesson. Taking her cue, the volume in the room erupts as students pack up their bags and textbooks and head out, leaving Hermione frowning at the wriggling ferret in her arms.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" she screeches, tightening her grip as the animal makes another bid for freedom.

Harry is already on his feet, so she switches her pleading gaze to Ron as he returns from putting his own feather duster back in the box at the front of the classroom. He shrugs back at her before asking, "Well, do you know the counter charm?"

"I-I think so, it's relatively straight forward. I've never performed it before, though, and this guy won't stay still."

Ron frowns, a sure sign he's thinking about something. It takes him a moment before he nods to himself then holds his hands out to Hermione. "Give Felix to me?"

"Felix?"

"The ferret! Let me hold him, then you can perform the charm."

"But what if I hit you with the spell? I've not done human transfiguration yet. I could turn you into a broomstick!" She pulls the ferret closer to her chest as if to protect it.

"Oh, come on, Hermione. You're usually a good aim, especially if we're dueling together. I trust you." His frown turns into a small smile. "Plus, I guess if you do turn me into a ferret, then at least Felix will have a friend. You can keep us in a cage together, we'll have a whale of a time."

A lame attempt at a laugh falls dead on Hermione's lips, the gravity of the situation pressing in against her. Her heart pounds as she passes the animal over, albeit a little reluctantly, too distracted to notice the tingle of pleasure that shoots from the tips of her fingers as they graze against Ron's. Once he has a firm grip on the creature, she pulls her wand from the messy bun in her hair, and after taking a deep breath, she performs what she hopes is the counter-charm.

She squeezes her eyes shut, not wanting to look at the pair of ferrets that now sit on her desk, too scared that she's turned Ron into an animal and that she'll never be able to reverse her mistake. Felix's squeaking ceases, however, and silence fills the room instead.

"You're a bloody genius, you are."

The blush in Hermione's cheeks spreads down her neck at the compliment. Breathing a sigh of relief, she opens her eyes again, smiling as Ron's lop-sided grin greets her. In his hand is the white feather duster.

"I did it!" she gushes, clapping her hands together in joy.

"Of course you did!"

Ron contemplates the duster for a moment, twirling it around in his hand like a drum stick, his usually charming smile morphing into something more sinister as his eyes light up. Without warning, he leans forward and tickles it against Hermione's neck.

"Stop it," she laughs as she squirms away, trying her best to create distance between the two of them. Ron responds by grabbing her arm, keeping a firm hold on her as he increases his attack. "I mean it, Ron, I'm ticklish."

"I know!"

He persists for a little longer until Hermione manages to push him away with her spare hand. Her fingers curl around his wrist, and her chest heaves as she struggles to catch her breath. For a moment, they gaze at each other, and a magnetic pull forces her head closer to his. Hermione licks her lips in anticipation for what might come next.

Only, nothing happens.

Ron releases her arms as if burned by her touch, jumping to his feet to return the duster to the box at the front of the class, and as he moves, Hermione notices the back of his neck is burning bright red.

"Hey," he calls as he crosses the now empty classroom, disturbing her from her inappropriate thoughts. "Where's everyone? Where's Harry?"

Hermione glances around, her breath still coming in short gasps as she tries her best to recover from Ron's assault.

Even Tonks has gone.

Transfiguration was the last class of the week, and in their eagerness to get the weekend started, their friends have abandoned them.

The realisation hits her hard, then sinks deep in her stomach like a bludger. Although Hermione is pretty sure she's not at risk whilst she's in the castle, especially not while Ron is around, there must be a reason why Queen Beatrice assigned Tonks to look after her.

Hermione packs up her things with a sigh, desperate to be reunited with her minder, who has become a safety blanket to her over the past week or so. All of a sudden, she's painfully aware that she's in an empty classroom all alone with Ron, a guy she's been trying her hardest all week to avoid.

It's not that she doesn't want to spend time with him. In fact, it's the complete opposite. If Hermione spends too much time alone with Ron, she's worried she might do something that'll ruin their friendship forever. The moment with the feather duster is a testament to that. She'd been so close to kissing him, but he was repulsed by the thought.

She hadn't expected Ron's touch last Saturday to set off such an unbelievable chain reaction, especially since they've made contact plenty of times before. But there was something about the intimate way his finger dragged along her cheek that still gives her shivers now, even a week later.

The thought of being alone with Hermione must disgust Ron as he takes several giant strides to the door. He braces himself against the frame, taking a deep breath before bellowing down the corridor, "Oy! Potter! Get back here, now!"

The sound of footsteps retreating up the stone corridor are masked by McGonagall's office door slamming wide open.

"Ronald Weasley," she scolds, looking annoyed at the disturbance. "We do not yell at our friends down the corridor. I would expect more from a Gryffindor Prefect. I will be taking ten points from you, and if I hear more noise like that, it'll be a week's detention. Understood?"

The tips of Ron's ears turn bright pink as he stares at a fascinating spot on the floor, unable to lift his eyes to meet the professor's piercing gaze. To make matters worse, Harry and Tonks arrive back at the classroom in time to catch the telling off.

"Do you understand me?" McGonagall repeats.

"Yes, Professor. I won't do it again."

"Good. Now, shouldn't you four be out celebrating the start of the weekend? Shoo! All of you!"

Not wanting to wait around for another slapped wrist, Hermione grabs Ron's bag with her own and hurries over to the others. Once they're together, the group of friends leave the classroom, with Ron and Harry taking the lead. As soon as they've left the vicinity of the room, Tonks grabs Hermione's arm, holding her back until they're out of earshot of the boys.

"I'm sorry that I left without you, Hermione. I genuinely thought you were following me, and as soon as we reached the staircase and realised you weren't with us, we came back. Please don't tell your grandmother. I'm still on probation with the Order, and Kingsley has already told me that there won't be any warnings, I'll be out with my first mistake."

Spotting the boys waiting for them on the landing, Hermione links her arm with Tonks' then picks up speed, dragging the Auror along with her.

"It's fine, I promise," she says. "Nothing was going to happen to me in McGonagall's Transfiguration class, especially with a teacher nearby. Plus, Ron was there. At least he remembered me. Now, come on, you can make it up to me by helping me with my Potions essay whilst we wait for dinner."

Tonks groans, but there's a smile on her face as they reach Harry and Ron, then join the droves of students making their way onto the moving staircase to return to their common rooms.

Friday 4th October 1996, 05:27 pm

Dear Diary,

Although it's almost time for dinner, I realised that I hadn't had a chance to write to you for nearly a week. I've been avoiding it, to be honest, the same way I've been avoiding other things in my life. I may be a Gryffindor, but in some aspects of my life, I can be pretty cowardly.

Despite the disturbing revelation I experienced in the middle of the Three Broomsticks last Saturday, I'm okay. Although school, socialising, and homework have filled my time, not much else has gone on.

The boys are off preparing for Quidditch try-outs tomorrow. As we're alone, Tonks has, all of a sudden, decided to grill me about why I've been trying to avoid Ron all week. I didn't think it was obvious. After all, it was only one or two occasions, like sitting at the opposite end of the dinner table to him or trying to make sure Harry was between us during class. But my protector is apparently good at sniffing out the Demiguise in the room.

I guess that's what makes her a great Auror.

This whole situation with Ron and these new feelings I've been experiencing over the past week are challenging to comprehend. Not because I don't think he's attractive or that I felt repulsed by his touch. In fact, it's the complete opposite.

I want more.

We've always been close, Ron and I, and I'm so scared that I may lose that. I'm not sure what I'd do if I did.

I guess I've known for a while that my feelings for Ron have changed from friendship to more. It's probably been coming for a year now, or even longer. But I've been trying my best to ignore them. I think that spending the summer with him at the Burrow without Harry to keep us purely on the friendship track only amplified what was already there and I've had a growing interest in Ron since our third year, probably fuelled by rampant teenage hormones. This holiday, though, there was more, a sort of longing I felt for him whenever I was around him.

Ugh. Reading that back, it looks ridiculous, like I'm some heroine in one of those cheesy Muggle romance novels Ginny always reads.

I am Hermione Granger. I wander the moors, longing for my lost love, Ronald Weasley, currently out at sea. Oh, woe. Will he ever return to the land and admit his undying love to me?

At least I can be sure that there is no crazy wife in Ron's attic. There's only the ghoul, and it doesn't have much interest in anything apart from wailing at us in the middle of the night.

I need to clarify that I don't believe in any of that rubbish; true love and soul mates and blagh. But longing is seriously the only way to describe what I feel for Ron, and I'm usually pretty good with my words.

Since the start of the summer, though, I've been experiencing this urge to reach out and tangle our fingers together so I can feel his large palm pressed against my tiny one and enjoy the sensation of his thumb rubbing against the back of my hand. I'm no damsel in distress, but I bet it would feel safe and warm. And all I want to do is rest my head against his shoulder and allow his scent (the last time I was at the Burrow, I snuck a look at his aftershave—mint and cardamom) to comfort me.

The yearning has only grown stronger since I found out I'm a secret princess.

For a while, I tried to blame it on the magic of the summer holidays and being without Harry for longer than we're used to, as well as the uncharacteristically warm weather we were having. I had hoped that once we were back on the Hogwarts Express, those feelings would change, but if anything, they became more intense.

I promise I have tried my best to push it all out of my head. I would love to give it my all, to allow myself to fall head over heels in love with him. But Ron is my best friend, and he has never given me any indication whatsoever that he might feel the same way for me. He thinks of me as a sister, and nothing else, the same way Harry does.

So yeah, I've been avoiding him as much as I can this past week, which is pretty tricky considering we have Prefect rounds together three times a week. I don't think he misses me all that much, either. Well, Ron hasn't asked where I've been. Tonks and I have managed to persuade the boys that we both enjoy studying and have been spending time at the library. We're there most of the time, to be fair, but we often seek out a spare classroom for princess stuff, like practising how to walk and sit, and so that Tonks can conduct her usual check-ins with Kingsley and Moody.

Quite frankly, I think Ron is pleased that he doesn't have to entertain that side of me anymore. The studying side, that is, I think he's well aware that I can already walk and sit.

I wish I could tell him what is going on, though. Not only my feelings about him, but this whole me being a princess thing. He would have sound advice on whether I should take the crown or remain plain old Hermione Granger. Ron would tell me whether he thinks I'd make a good princess, and he's the only person I trust to tell me the truth and not say the right thing because he believes he's being kind.

I need my best friend's counsel right now.

Talk of the devil, Ron is making his way over to us, which probably means it's time for dinner.

Until I remember to write again x

Dinner is its usual quiet affair, especially as, for once, Tonks manages to keep all of her food on her own plate and not spread it down the Gryffindor table. Once they have finished eating, the foursome makes their way back up to the common room, where Harry, Ron and Tonks persuade Hermione to play a few rounds of Exploding Snap instead of working through her growing list of homework.

Eventually, Tonks makes her excuses, claiming that she forgot to meet a friend from another house. Spotting an opportunity, Hermione sees the Order member out then wanders back over to the boys.

"You know, I think I might get an early night. I'm exhausted." She lets out a fake yawn and stretches before rubbing her eyes.

"Seriously?!" Ron jumps to his feet, an incredulous look on his face. "But it's not even ten yet. It's a Friday, Hermione. You can have a lie-in in the morning, if you want. What's so important upstairs, anyway?"

It would be easy to give in to his pleading and stay downstairs for a while longer, especially as there's a cosy looking space right next to where he was sitting on the sofa. Hermione could fold herself against his side and watch him play Wizard Chess with Harry while finishing her book. Flobberworms squirm in her stomach at the thought of it, but she pushes the sensation aside, crossing her hands over her chest as she squares up to him.

"I'm tired, and I really want to finish my book. It's been a long week. If I get an early night, then I'll have plenty of energy to cheer you on as loudly as I possibly can tomorrow."

Ron perks up immediately. His cerulean eyes are wide open, sparkling with eagerness as he asks, "You're coming then?

"Of course I am, I wouldn't miss it for the world," Hermione promises. "But I do have a huge Arithmancy essay to write beforehand. I may not see you before you head down to the Quidditch Pitch."

"But you'll make sure you eat lunch, right?"

There's another flutter as a dragon joins the flobberworms, chasing them around and sending her insides into disarray. "I'll make sure I eat lunch. You can even remind Tonks to nag me."

"Alright, then I'll guess I can let you go to bed early this once."

Hermione smiles. "Good luck, if I don't get to see you. Although I'm positive you won't need it."

Without even thinking about it, she stretches up on her tiptoes as if it's the most natural thing in the world to do and kisses Ron on the cheek. Her lips linger against his skin for a moment, her lungs forgetting how to function as they fill with the scent of him. She's obsessed with this smell. If she could bottle it, then Hermione is sure she would make a fortune, not that she needs more money, now she's a royal.

Then Harry coughs, and the shame of what she's done hits her like a stampede of Norwegian Ridgebacks. She pulls away quickly and directs her attention to her other best friend, who is watching the pair with a gleeful look on his face.

"Uhm, you too, Harry—"

Not wanting to give either boy the chance to comment on her peculiar actions, Hermione scoops up Crookshanks from where he's lounging on the hearth of the fire, ignoring the disgruntled yowl he gives at the disturbance and makes a swift exit.

⁂

Why in Merlin's fluffiest dressing gown did I do that?

Hermione hurries up the staircase, taking the steps to the sixth floor two at a time as she tries to digest what just happened. Someone must have confounded her; that's the only excuse she can think of for what she did. It was only a kiss on the cheek. It could have been a lot worse. But the puzzled look on Ron's face as she left the common room only cements the fact that it was an awful thing to do and that she's probably ruined their friendship forever.

When she pushes the door open to the dormitory, Hermione realises she's made another mistake in coming up here early. Lavender, Parvati, Faye and Helen are lounging across the beds and as Hermione steps across the threshold, they stop their conversation and throw disgruntled looks her way.

They were probably bitching about me.

"Ugh, it's you," Lavender sneers before rolling onto her front and tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "It's about time you showed up. That animal over there has been making the most awful noise for over an hour now. We tried to send it down to the common room to find you, but it was adamant that it was going to stay here."

Hermione's gazes follows the blonde's perfectly manicured point to where an owl sits quietly, head swivelling between the pair. It gives a doleful but quiet hoot as if protesting Lavender's assessment of its behaviour.

"Yeah, it looks like it's causing a riot," Hermione states as she stomps across the room. "Hey beautiful, what do you have for me?"

Fishing a treat out of the small bag kept on the dormitory windowsill, she gives it to the owl then opens the window for it to leave. Once it's taken flight, she fastens the glass shut against any further visits and wanders back to her bed, eyeing the package that remains. After making sure Lavender and the others are back to their conversation, she sits on the end of her bed.

A small note is attached to the parcel, and Hermione opens the envelope to read it. Inside is a message from her grandmother, reminding her that princess lessons start at nine on the dot tomorrow morning. Beatrice closes off the letter by requesting that Hermione please wear the clothes Amelia has sent over.

With a sigh, Hermione taps the note with her wand and waits for it to disappear. It wouldn't do for Lavender to get hold of it and start asking questions about princess lessons, especially as Hermione has been trying hard to conceal the news. She doesn't realise that the blonde already has her beady eyes on Hermione, and as the young princess unfolds the items in the parcel, Lavender erupts into giggles.

"What the hell is that?" She pushes herself off the bed and makes it across the room faster than a Niffler chasing gold, snatching the clothes off Hermione. Lavender holds the offending items up for the rest of the girls to see. "I know you're severely lacking in fashion sense, Hermione, but these are ridiculous. Are you trying to dress like an old lady now? Or are you that desperate to get into Ron's pants that you're dressing like his mum now?"

"They're gifts from my grandmother—"

"From her own wardrobe?!"

"Not that it's any of your business, but no."

Hermione reaches out for the blouse and trousers and pulls them out of Lavender's grip. The popular Gryffindor relents almost too quickly, but it's because she's distracted by something else entirely.

"Wait," she shouts as she grasps Hermione's spare hand, pulling it closer to her face and forcing the brunette to her feet. "Since when do you paint your nails? Oh my God, you are trying to attract Weasley, aren't you? Well, a fat load of good that'll do you, as I'm pretty sure he's more interested in Potter than you. Not that I blame him. Why would he want to go out with a troll like you?"

Tears of frustration burn in the corner of Hermione's eyes, her stomach churning as Lavender hurls insult after insult at her. She knew something like this would happen eventually, but not this soon. It's only been a week. How could she have been found out already?

Normally, Hermione wouldn't react this way. She'd be able to hold her head high and ignore Lavender's taunts or retaliate in some way, but this time her sworn enemy cuts her insults too close for comfort, causing a double whammy after Hermione made such a fool of herself whilst saying goodbye to Ron in the common room.

Hermione has two options. She can either play along, laugh off Lavender's insults and pretend that all this extra effort is for a boy when Hermione would never change who she is for a man's attention. Or she can try her best to ignore Lavender and hold back the tears long enough to get into the safe confines of her four-poster bed.

She would usually always go for option one, but tonight, Hermione finds she doesn't have the energy for a proper fight with her roommate. Instead, she chooses the latter, yanking her hand out of Lavender's grip. As Hermione does, she notices that the blonde's nails are painted a similar colour to Hermione's. The thought she might be emulating her arch-nemesis, even only in a small way, brings a wave of nausea crashing over her, and she fumbles for her belongings, worrying that if she doesn't act fast enough, she might throw up everywhere and give Lavender more fuel for her taunts.

"It's none of your business," Hermione mumbles as she climbs back onto her bed. The last thing she sees is Lavender's huge taunting grin as Hermione draws the curtains tightly around her bed, blocking out the rest of her Gryffindor roommates.

Hermione allows the darkness to consume her, even as she tries her best to suppress the tears that still fight to be released. She sinks further into her mattress, wishing she could be as far away as possible from everyone and everything.

But she doesn't get the peace she craves as peals of laughter break through the thick, luxurious fabric draped around her bed.

"I can't believe she thinks that painting her nails and wearing awful Muggle granny clothes will help her win a boy," Parvati squeals. "That girl is hopeless. Nobody will ever fancy her."

Helen chimes in, fighting to speak through her laughter. "And over a guy like Ron Weasley, too. He's an idiot, nothing more than a himbo."

The giggles carry on for a bit longer, and Hermione squeezes her eyes shut. Eventually, silence cloaks the room, meaning she can hear Lavender's following words as clear as day.

"Oh, I don't know girls. I have a soft spot for Quidditch Keepers. And Ron has certainly grown into his muscles over the past year or so. You know I go weak at the knees when he walks into class with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. If only I didn't have Cormac…."

Hermione fumbles blindly for her wand, eventually locating it in the darkness of her four-poster bed. She throws up a quick silencing charm to block out the rest of the conversation, not wanting to know what Lavender might do with Ron if she gets the chance.

When the true silence descends on her, Hermione lets the hot tears tumble over her cheek as she gives in to her dismay at her awful evening. It's hard enough that everyone already thinks she's a complete freak and that Ron might be sitting in the common room right now, disgusted at the surprise kiss Hermione planted on him.

But now, she has real competition for his affection in Lavender Brown. And there's no way he'd pick Hermione over Lav.