.

As her eyes blinked, the meaning of the day set in. It's Christmas, she squeeled. Her legs flailed as she frantically tried to escape the confines of her twisted bedsheets. She scrambled hastily through her empty dorm room to the awaiting pile of gifts in the common room, just for her. Oh, just imagine all the new books. She pulled open the door, and spied Harry and Ron opening their door, too.

"Merry Christmas!" they all echoed at the same time, beaming with the rush of the season. Ron broke free first, he skipped his steps three at a time to the bottom. Hermione hopes she was more graceful but highly doubts it. As she plonked at the wide base of the red and gold Christmas tree, Harry finally caught up and sat on tucked knees beside Ron. She could barely remain still, she clamped her hands between her thighs as Ron fished out the gifts from the tree.

The common room was mostly empty, the few students left in Hogwarts remaining in their beds or having already performed their morning rituals, and presently indulging in a decadent Christmas breakfast. Hermione loved Hogwarts at Christmas – the castle seemed to up its magical flare at the season's peak. The whole place smelled of fresh evergreens and decorations of all colours brighten every room. Even the knights lining the halls were wrapped in merry tinsel. The failen snow dusting the ancient castle landed the young witch in her own personal snow globe. It's too wonderful to feel down in Hogwarts at Christmas. A simple fact, strengthed by her achy smiling cheeks.

Of course, she missed her grandmother, plus she won't see her until July now, as she was busy lecturing at a dental school in America on the effects of gingivitis on gum health. Hermione understood why she had to stay in Hogwarts, she respected her grandmother's dedication to her craft. In fact, she'd inspired Hermione in many ways. Her grandmother was nothing short of the most hard-working dentist in the greater British kingdom. Knocking elbows with leading health-care professionals regularly, while nudging herself to the forefront of the industry through the years. It was extraordinary how she'd managed to do so as a woman of the sixties, overcoming the prejudice against her sex and earning respect despite it all. It was something she'd cling to when Malfoy would shout his disgust with her blood status. She'd large footsteps to follow in, a daunting idea for most. Though her feet were small now, she was confident she would grow into them with the grace befitting the granddaughter of Ruth Granger.

"There's yours Hermione!" Ron pushed the pile towards her. There were several presents wrapped in a swanky silver with her name tagged on each gift. Once she caught sight of the pile and the various book-shaped gifts, she was tearing through them as wild as Ron at dinnertime. It was Christmas, it was perfectly normal behaviour!

"What colour you get, Harry? Green? I always get maroon, can't even swap with the big bloody 'R' on the front," Ron lamented, folding his homemade jumper and putting it aside, as he fished through the rest of his loot. Hermione never got a sweater from Mrs Weasley but that was okay, she thought, stacking her pile of new volumes on top of one another.

There was a large span of topics ranging from the dark psychology of the eighteenth century, and several muggle books by James Joyce. She'd gotten some trinkets too, including a delicate silver chain necklace with a small open rose, and a wind-up pair of chomping teeth. For whatever reason she got them, she loved the small piece of home she could carry with her.

"Better than nothing I suppose," Ron sighed, adding all the sweets he'd gotten with his jumper. "What's that Harry?" He gestured to the large cylinder-shaped object covered in brown wrapping paper, shoved under the tree with his name marked on a card. Harry reached for the card.

"I don't know, there's no name…" Harry paused, flipping the small card in his hand. Hermione's senses were instantly on edge, who would send a gift with no name. A secret admirer, perhaps? With her interest peaked, she put her gifts down to look as her Harry held the wrapped gift making no move to unwrap it.

"Go on then, open it, Harry," Ron said, excitedly nudging Harry with a playful smile, wanting to see what the large gift was. Harry looked to Ron with uncertainty in his eyes, before carefully peeling the brown paper by the edges slowly. As the paper parted, the twiggy bristles of a large broom revealed themselves. Ron gasped as all three Gryffindors eyes widened. This was no secret admirer.

"Bloody hell, harry…is that a Firebolt? I read about that in Which Broomstick, the Irish team are using those! They're worth a fortune, they are!" Ron rushed, his hand hesitating on whether to disgrace the broom with his touch or not. To say Hermione Granger was concerned would be an understatement. She knew as much about brooms as she did glamour charms, but Ron's astonishment caused her to question the true value of the gift.

"How much is it worth? Who would send you that?" She asked, trying to withhold the worry from her voice. She vainly hoped the boys would land on the idea something was amiss without her nagging. Harry was smiled as he stroked the sleek black handle with a gentle hand.

"I know it's mad money. Hundreds of galleons, at least. I'd need to sell George for that kind of money," Ron laughed at his joke. "Imagine Malfoy's rat face when you walk on the pitch, it'll be worth every galleon, I say." Ron had glossed over the sender, which caused Hermione to huff. She'd have to be more forceful with them.

"Yes, but who?" she said, exasperation clear in her voice

"Probably Dumbledore, sick of seeing his house getting beat all the time – oh …Sorry, Harry," he winced, realising he could've offended the seeker. Harry's brow furrowed, ignoring the slight completely.

"No, he wouldn't spend that on me. It's too much," Harry said quietly, Hermione could cry. He was finally coming out of his enchantment and seeing what she saw. "It had to be someone else."

"Who cares? We're going to crush those greasy gits and we'll be laughing this time. C'mon Harry lets get dressed and go try it out," Ron jumped to his feet, dragging Harry along with him eagerly, leaving the broom behind. She didn't want to fight with the boys on Christmas, but they weren't thinking it through. Something was very wrong. As the boys reached their stairway, she braced herself for the fight as she called to them.

"Don't you think it's suspicious? Getting a broom, right after yours is broken? It's from someone who knows you, Harry. Who's been watching you. Who sends such a pricey present with no name? Harry, it could be cursed!" Harry and Ron both looked at one another with raised eyebrows before breaking out into sly smiles.

"Oh c'mon 'mione, you said the same thing about the map and that's saved our necks more times than I can count. Stop worrying so much," Ron shook his head fondly, thinking her to be a silly motherly hen who worried about everything for no good reason. There was a reason. These sorts of things were not normal, and with Harry, not normal meant lethal.

"Yes, exactly Ronald. The stupid map, which suddenly appeared when Harry couldn't go to Hogsmeade. Luring him out of Hogwarts without anyone knowing he was no longer even in Hogwarts! Now, he breaks his broom and a better one appears. This has to be Black. He's been trying to get in! Probably to leave this in here! I think we should bring it to a professor." She shouted.

The old phrase 'too good to be true' was old for a reason, wisdom in the words that stood the test of time. Ron's smile dropped, jaw tensed, he realised Hermione was threatening the team's latest weapon in the war against Slytherin. Harry put his arm on Ron's, to stop his friend from fighting the young witch.

"Don't worry about me, Hermione. I'm sure it'll be fine. Besides, no fighting on Christmas. I don't like it," Harry's eyes shot between the two, waiting for a challenger who'd never come. "Let's go before the snow gets too high," Harry grabbed Ron's arm, pulling him away before he could protest and up the stairs. As the door opened, Harry turned giving her a reassuring smile that broke her heart, for she knew she was going to break his. "See you in a bit Hermione," his emerald green eyes smiled before he disappeared through the door.

He wouldn't see her in a bit. He'd see her after she'd given his new gift away. She knew they'd both see it as a betrayal, and she made her peace with it as soon as the thought came. She'd rather Harry hated her while breathing than have his body cold and unfeeling. Grabbing the broomstick in nothing but her linen pyjamas and socks, she fled through the portrait hole. She ignored the Mad Knight's call for a duel, clearly still peeved with her. She sped through the halls hoping to get to Professor McGonagall's office before the boys returned and figured out what she'd done. She couldn't let her stop them, she had a gut feeling and she learned to trust that feeling. Nothing good ever followed that squeezy feeling.

"Someone's in a rush. Delivering a gift to a lucky boy?" She stopped short of running straight into Professor Lupin as he waggled his eyebrows playfully to her. She was busy catching her breath, stopping abruptly had caused her unathletic body to catch up with the adrenaline rapidly. He eyed the broom she'd shoved behind her back. "Is that a broom? I didn't know you fly, Hermione," tilting his head to look at the Firebolt.

Tell him, her mind screamed but something was holding her back. It was not the squeezy feeling she'd gotten when she'd seen the broom. It was different than that. it was a moment from weeks before at the forefront of her mind that halted her. She'd repeated the moment between Snape and Dumbledore over and over until the words became mush. Lupin was the obvious answer, as to who Snape thought should not be at Hogwarts. Why? Well, he was the most recent addition to Hogwarts and the only man with a history with the wizard. According to Harry, there was animosity between the two men, lingering from their past. The werewolf said nothing of it, but Harry picked up on the underlying dislike all the same. Hermione had as well.

The why, was the real question. The strongest of the reasons she'd created, was his lycanthropy. Snape had already revealed his opinions on Werewolves that faithful day. Without subtly, she added. His lesson repeated on her with words like feral, inhuman, and monsters. He spent his time beating the word beasts into the spongy brains of her classmates. Chilling words to endorse his poison. An ideology of hatred born from a fear of the unknown, from those without spines or a modicum of compassion.

Snape spoke of an 'allegiance' Professor Lupin had, that somehow incriminated him. This was the point where the small connections she'd constructed started to snap. This was the part she could not figure out. Easy to assume it was Sirius Black, but that made no sense. Professor Lupin has warned Harry again, and again to be careful. Why would he do that, if he was in allegiance with the man who was trying to kill him? A predator does not warn his food when his jaw is wet.

Even with the holes, she'd not trusted herself enough to tell him about the suspicious broom. She'd considered maybe he'd been the anonymous sender, but that too fell apart. The poor quality of his clothing and his admitted inability to afford the wolfsbane potion had broken the theory. There was no way he'd be able to afford such a costly broom if Ron was to be trusted on its expense. His devotion to quidditch made him an expert, and she always trusted the experts.

"Is something the matter, Hermione?" He asked with narrowed eyes, as her continued silence and concealing of the broom had clearly raised suspicions. Hermione looked behind her, hoping her head start would be enough to make it to the Headmistress before the boys. She looked back to the concerned man before her.

"Nothing at all, I'm just in a rush," she said, her voice remained steady. She'd no choice but to lie. She trusted him in most ways, and far more than most professors. Though she trusted far less where Harry was concerned. Although she did appreciate the mentoring he'd given him, but he'd have to do more to earn that kind of trust. His head never moved from its tilted position looking at the girl still in her nightclothes, holding a very expensive broom away from his gold-lined eyes. You didn't need heightened senses to find her behaviour suspect.

"If you need help, you know you can ask me, right Hermione?" he said, his hand reaching his heart in promise. Hermione seemed to be breaking everyone's hearts today. All in the name of one boy's safety, who was sure to shun her after this.

"I know," she lied. His head righted itself, but his slight frown told her he was disappointed. She could feel it and it was stinging her insides.

"Well then. Merry Christmas, Miss Granger," he said quietly, as he righted his defeated shoulders. Hermione forced herself to remain straight, fearing she'd cave if she stopped gritting her teeth.

"Merry Christmas, Professor," she replied with a cheated smile. He nodded his head, never smiling back. It would have been forced anyway. She watched him turn the corner, forcing the sadness away, she returned to her sprint. Ending in the hallway of the first-floor corridor, she saw her goal point and felt the rush of air leave her as her friends were nowhere to be found. She raised her hand to knock but the door was already opening. Peering into the office it was tastefully decorated, a few nods to her animagus form and one of the largest fireplaces she'd seen in Hogwarts yet. The one thing it was lacking was her professor.

"Professor?" she called, never breaching the threshold without permission, she leaned her head through the door to look for her. The tabby cat emerged from behind her desk, transforming into the billowy robed woman she was looking for. The professor eyes locked with the broom.

"My goodness! is that a Firebolt?" She asked breathily, similarly to how Ron had reacted. She hoped unlike Ron, she'd see the problem right away. Hermione stayed behind the door, as she'd yet to get her permission to enter. She glanced to the hall a final time, praying it was empty of cupped ears, eager to hear the latest threat to the boy who lived.

"It is. Harry got it this morning, but there was no name on the card. I think it might be from Sirius Black," she said, and McGonagall's thin eyebrows flew up to her forehead. Hermione felt assured by the reaction. She'd done the right thing. It had to be done. She'd debated telling her of the map but if she had, all hell would break loose. As loathe as she was to admit, the map had yet to endanger them in the way this broom could. All the same, she didn't trust the map.

"Yes, you're right to be worried. Miss, Granger put the broom on the table and back away, it could be laced with dark magic," Hermione could curse herself for not thinking of it, touching it with her bare hands had been senseless. Following the orders, she did what she'd been told, and the door slowly closed with no assistance. McGonagall moved closer to the small coffee table before the hearth but still stood far enough away if the broom retaliated that she'd be hopefully alright.

"Deprehendere" she whispered, while brandishing her wand and flicking her wrist in a snappy figure of eight. It was a spell she'd never heard of; the purpose was presumably to expose any dark curses on the broom. She practised the wand movement in her free hand out of view and internally chanted the spell. A habit she always did when she heard any useful spell. The usefulness of the spell was debatable, as the broom stayed in place with no effect. Hermione did not doubt her professor's power, but the spell was not working. McGonagall repeated the movement, after humming aloud but again, nothing happened. No light, no sound and no movement happened. With a quelling sigh, she faced Hermione with a stiff lip.

"I'll not pretend to be an expert on curse-breaking but I cannot detect any dark magic. th…" she paused as Hermione's head fell without her permission. She'd possibly destroyed her friendship for nought. "…is everything alright, Miss Granger?"

"Yes… well, it's just Harry didn't want me to do this. I stole the broom and if I'm wrong…well, I'm very wrong," she said. Harry had just managed to get the animagus to call off the watchdogs she'd ordered to follow him after he'd fallen from his broom. She was sure to loosen their chains once again, just another thing to blame her for. Her teacher looked at her with a sympathetic smile.

"You were very right, no matter the outcome," she said slowly, but Hermione turned her head away as if to say that was debatable. "What I was going to say was I'd like to have someone with more experience with dark magic to have a look at it," her soothing Scottish tongue did little to comfort her. McGonagall seemed to see this as she refused to meet her eyes. "Did you know Miss Granger, that you were the first and only muggleborn witch I visited?" Hermione's attention was caught. "Yes, I imagine you'll be a tough act to follow. Your loyalty to your friends is commendable, even if they don't see it as such. Sometimes it's our very selves from whom we need saving."

Hermione nodded her head, allowing the comforting advice into her heart. She'd been right and that was all that mattered. Hopefully, they'd see it her way one day, but that horizon was yet to be seen. Perhaps she was putting too little faith in her friends. In a way, they'd shown little faith in her, too.

"Yes, the best route should be to have someone look at it for anything that could not be detected by typical means. I'll have Lupin take a look, he'd done a stint in Borges and Burkes before Hogwarts, which no doubt will be invaluable here—" she said, Hermione was relieved McGonagall had turned away to her desk and couldn't see her burning cheeks. "—I'm glad you brought this to me. Don't hesitate to come if anything else occurs."

"Yes, professor."

"Well off with you. Breakfast is still being served, I'm assured by Hagrid it was one of the best years yet. Might I suggest changing to a more suitable outfit?" She gazed down at the hopping bunny on her shirt, Hermione fought the urge to shield herself as though naked. With a nod of her head, she left the office quickly, not wanting anyone to see her in this state.

As she walked down the halls slowly, in no rush to return to her common room, she looked through the large windows to the snow storming the outdoors. The earlier theory of how impossible it was to feel down in Hogwarts at Christmas, was proven to be a falsehood.

.

Hermione was alone once again. If she'd not appreciated their friendship before, which she had, she definitely does now. She remembers returning to the common room, and apologising to Harry a thousand times but his cold eyes spoke volumes she didn't want to hear. It was weeks on, and the boys were merciless. Harry hadn't looked at her since and Ron always sniffed when she was nearby. As if he couldn't stand the deathly betrayal she emanated. There was Oliver Wood, too. If he'd thought she'd been out to sabotage his team before, he was sure of it now. She'd catch him glaring at her the odd time as if she'd hidden the Quidditch Cup in her back pocket. The workload was filling her alone time, well enough. Sometimes she'd forget she was the most hated girl in Gryffindor as she lost herself in essay upon essay. It was mealtimes shared with vacant chairs that brought it all back, no book able to fill them.

"Hermione?" Hermione looked up into the pale azure eyes of Luna Lovegood. It had felt strange for someone to call her name, who wasn't a professor or Fred Weasley. How she wished he'd ignore her.

"Hi Luna," she said with a small smile, she'd seen hide nor tail of the witch since the moonlit meeting of minds. She'd looked for her too, the silent promise to befriend her was hard to keep when she was nowhere to be found.

"I finally got all those archives. It took a little while as my owl, Sunday, enjoys little breaks. It's a long flight from home, though so I'm kind to her. Shall we have a look after lunch?" Hermione doubted there wad an animal she's ever been unkind to. She'd completely forgotten her research, shameful as it is. Even dropping Divination had given her barely any breathing room. She'd asked McGonagall if she could take the O.W.L and forego that wench's classroom, but that wasn't a possibility. She'd had a brief debate on whether to return but there was simply nothing she could learn from Trelawney. What was the point, if not to learn?

"Oh, Luna, that's brilliant! I truly can't thank you enough," Luna simply smiled and waved her hand. "Ehm, I've been a little swamped, lately. I don't know if I can do it today, another time maybe?" She could use her time-turner but that wouldn't be for the purpose she'd gotten it. It would be wrong to misuse it so, even if her research was important.

"Not to worry, I can see you've got a few clockey imps on your tail. Just let me know and I'll be ready," she gave Hermione a lingering smile before turning away. Hermione felt awful, but she really was out of time for today. Clockey demons or not, she was probably hurt by her.

"Who's this, then?" Fred's voice popped up from beside Luna, giving the younger witch a cheeky grin. It seemed as though every time she complained about her loneliness, Fred appeared to remind why it was not always a bad thing.

"I'm Luna," she said, through her wispy voice. She held her hand out in greeting but Fred ignored it, opting to sling an arm around her shoulder. Luna's eyes widened before she blinked, seemingly uncomfortable by the contact. Call her selfish, venal or unsympathetic but Hermione couldn't feel bad when his attention fell to someone who wasn't her. If he began giving her his love declarations instead, well, she'd happily fade into the background. Hermione returned to her book, pretending to have seen nothing.

"No hand-shaking, that's far too like Percy—" the nearby Weasley nearby sniffed primly. "—We still love you, Percy, even if you're forty years old with a large loan on a small cottage. No little Luns, any friend of Hermione is a friend of ours. Have a seat Luns," he gestured to the vacant seats in front of her. Luna sat unsurely, she looked to Hermione for an explanation but Hermione would never be able to explain Fred so just shrugged. Before Fred could sit Hermione stretched across awkwardly placing her foot on the seat.

"No."

"How am I supposed to sit then? I don't imagine your little foot would be all too comfortable, bit too pokey for me. Not where you'd want to be poked either," She narrowed her eyes, as he'd understood what she meant perfectly. He could sit on the highest gargoyle of the highest tower, for all she cared, as long as it was thirty feet from her.

"Get poked somewhere else, Frederick. You gave you're little speech this morning, leave or I'll hex you," she'd been watching Ginny and her bat-boogey, she'd something in store for him if he kept going. Fred pushed her foot away, the odd angle she'd contorted to place it there made it easy to budge for the strong beater. Hermione jilted slightly, trying to push her foot back but the infuriating boy was already sitting. She blames quidditch.

"I love it when you use my full name," he winked at the huffing witch,

"Go away Mr Weasley," she hissed.

"Now that's just indecent. We're in public, love," he clucked at her in admonishment. Hermione had quite enough, he'd pushed a step too far. Her jaw was on the verge of snapping itself.

"Ab—"

"— Freddie, Are you around geese a lot?" Luna interrupts sweetly, Hermione and Fred's noses both wrinkle. Luna subtly looks to Hermione, before Fred turns to address the Ravenclaw.

"Geese? Your ears are positively teeming with nectar. It's practically pouring out!" Fred's lips popped open but no sound is heard. Hermione fought her smile behind her hand, anger leaving in favour of amusement. "You should go clean it before the geese see. Nibbly little peckers."

Fred's face is one of confusion, as he stares at Luna in perplexity. He returns to Hermione with a raised brow. Hermione schooled her features to hide her smile, nodding emphatically, agreeing with every mad word Luna said. Fred hummed to himself, if one of the smartest girls in school had said so, it had to be true.

"Right, I'll go do that then…" he got up from his seat slowly, and it was so very hard to keep her face straight. To break character would ruin this golden opportunity Luna had given her. "Oi, Ange, come check my ear!" He shouts to the girl across the room. Hermione looks to Luna, but she's aced her poker face. "Just do it, I can't see the nectar... Merlin, Ange, I know it's there!" Fred's shout can be heard from the hall as shoves his head in front of the witch as she eats. That was the straw that had broken the camels back, the giggle erupted from her like a failed bubbling potion. Luna dropped the character, joining her laughter with her own though with less exuberance. They received a few stares from the people close to them, curious as to what was so funny.

"That was bloody brilliant, Luna," she wheezed through her laughter, wiping the gathering tears. Luna had faded from her laughter, she produced a vacant smile that was anything but.

"What was brilliant?" Hermione rolled her eyes fondly. Luna had to be joking. Watching the smirking witch, it was clear she was. As Hermione's chuckles died, Luna stood from her seat.

"Just let me know when you want the archives. See you around," Hermione's smile dropped a little. That had been the most fun she'd had in weeks, she was sad it would be ending so shortly. As Luna waved her final goodbye, Hermione stopped her.

"Luna," she called a beat too quickly. The witch turned back with a cocked brow. "I have time now if you want to stay for lunch," the witch looked confused. Hermione hadn't meant for research, if she went to the library again, her brain may combust. "—No, not for that. I-I have my book so we can read if you like. Chat, maybe? Whichever, I'm easy-going," she said lamely, her cheeks aflame with the last word.

It was no wonder why she'd only ever had two friends. It was not for a lack of trying to be fair, it was merely an absence of finesse. In fact, she sounded like those ridiculous books on socialising her grandmother got her. Books that must have been written by hermits as nobody speaks this way about themselves. As if reading from a skill section on a CV could get you, friends. Who wouldn't want to have an easy-going friend, who called themselves easy-going? She was an utter dolt. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but Luna gave her a rare real smile, once again.

"Sounds wonderful.'

.

Hi all,

An early chapter to apologise for the last late chapter. The balance is restored. I rambled enough yesterday so I'll keep it short (this is probably a lie). I hope you enjoyed the chapter, Hermione is currently sad Hermione. When I read the books at like eight, I agreed with the boys on the firebolt. I don't know I imagined being sent a car, but my sister complaining about it. Age changed me for the better I think. Currently writing chapters involving the dreaded headache, what a fucking bitch that is. Plug one hole for another leak to spring, I'll need my own visit to St. Mungo's soon. We're well over the halfway point for Prisoner of Azkaban, so there's some good news. Lol remember when I said I'd keep this short?

I'll let you's go. Read/rate/review/kudos/follow/fave or whatever applies to whether you're reading from A03 or fanfiction .net

I'm too lazy from editing to separate the phrases them. Basically, tell me what you liked/hated or don't - your choice.

Until next time