Hermione's 4th Year, Part 16

Author's Note: None of this belongs to me. This story is based on Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling and will feature "offstage scenes" as well as scenes from the book reinterpreted from Hermione's point of view.

Hermione's 4th Year

Part 16: Jealousy and Hate Mail

By Elanor Gamgee

"Poor old Snuffles," said Ron, inhaling the scent of dinner drifting from the Great Hall. "He must really like you, Harry...imagine having to live off rats."

Harry smiled weakly in return, but didn't say anything. Hermione led the way into the Great Hall, and the three friends began piling their plates with food.

Hermione watched Harry carefully. They had just returned from visiting Sirius in Hogsmeade, and Harry seemed rather quieter than usual. She could understand his feelings; after all, Sirius had told them quite a bit about what had gone on during Voldemort's first reign of terror. But she suspected that Harry's pensive expression had more to do with seeing his godfather for the second time in his life (well, third, if you counted seeing him in the fireplace).

Ron seemed to be trying to draw Harry out by talking about Quidditch, a tactic which, for once, wasn't working. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her thoughts to something Sirius had said. If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals. She had never thought about house-elf enslavement in those terms before. Maybe if S.P.E.W. focused on how the state of house-elves reflected on wizards, it might be able to get through to more people. She decided to do some more research on magical hierarchies.

When Hermione had finished eating, she said, "I'm going to the library to check on something." She shot Ron a meaningful look, which he apparently ignored.

Harry stood up. "OK. I'm going upstairs."

"I'll go with you," said Ron, pushing his chair back.

"Ron, why don't you come with me to the library?" said Hermione pointedly. "I've had an idea about fundraising for S.P.E.W., and since you are the treasurer..."

Hermione was almost amused as Ron gave her a predictably disgusted look. Almost, but not quite.

"Are you still on about that?"

"Oh, come on," said Hermione impatiently, pulling him out of his chair. "We'll see you upstairs, Harry."

Harry nodded, a relieved look on his face.

Out in the Entrance Hall, Ron pulled his arm out of Hermione's grip and said indignantly, "What'd you do that for?"

"Ron!" said Hermione impatiently. "Can't you see that Harry wanted some time alone? Honestly, you call yourself his best friend?"

"I was trying to cheer him up," said Ron sulkily, rubbing his arm where Hermione had grasped it.

Hermione sighed. "Just give him some time, all right?"

To her surprise, Ron didn't argue with her. "Fine," he said grumpily. "But I don't see why I should be punished with looking up stuff for spew."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Fine," she said back, waving a hand impatiently, "you can go look for Quidditch books."

"OK," said Ron, his grouchiness evaporating. "Harry told me about this really good one, The Forbidden Moves of Quidditch, or something."

Hermione smiled at how easily distracted he was. She pulled open the library door, and checked on the threshold. She felt Ron stiffen beside her. Viktor was sitting at his table by the windows. He looked up, saw her standing in the doorway, and swiftly looked back down at the book in front of him.

Hermione hadn't spoken to Viktor since the day of the second task. She had smiled at him across the Great Hall a few times, but that had been all. Things had felt so awkward after he had tried to kiss her that she wasn't sure what she could say to him. Apparently, he had felt the awkwardness as well, as he had not approached her either.

Hermione recovered herself and continued walking into the library. "I'll be in the Magical Creatures section," she said to Ron, as casually as she could.

Ron just nodded, his face expressionless, and loped away toward the Quidditch books.

Hermione looked back at Viktor, who was seemingly quite absorbed in his book. She knew she couldn't avoid him forever. She had to talk to him sooner or later. Checking that Ron was safely ensconced in a row of bookshelves, she walked over to Viktor's table.

"Hello, Viktor," she said brightly.

He looked up at her and nodded. "Herm-own-ninny," he said, in a rather cooler voice than usual.

Hermione tried again. "How are you?"

"I am fine. And you?" Viktor's formal tone confused her.

"I'm fine. Well, you know, it's been a busy week..."

"So I've heard," said Viktor, with more bitterness than she would have expected from him.

She looked at him for a moment, puzzled. Then realization sank in. Pansy Parkinson had been screeching about that Witch Weekly article since yesterday afternoon. Of course she would have shown it to Viktor. Why hadn't it occurred to Hermione that Viktor would be hurt by it? It's all Rita Skeeter's fault, she thought, feeling another flash of anger at the reporter. Dreadful woman.

"You've read that article," she said quietly, trying to keep her voice even.

Viktor gave her that intense stare. "Yes," he said simply.

"Then you should know," said Hermione, her voice growing angry, "that it's a pack of lies. Harry and I are just friends, everyone knows that."

Viktor looked at her steadily. "Vell, I know that at least some parts were true."

Hermione flushed scarlet. "Look, I don't know how she heard you saying--what you said..." She looked down at her hands quickly.

"You did not tell her?"

Hermione looked up and gaped at him. "No, of course not!" A thought formed in her mind. "Did you?"

Viktor shook his head. "No, I vould never tell anyone about that."

Hermione sighed in frustration. "Then how did she--"

Viktor interrupted her. "I vas looking for you earlier. I vanted to talk to you."

Hermione looked away from his burning gaze. "Oh, I was in Hogsmeade, with Harry and Ron."

Viktor looked back down at his book. "Of course," he said, the bitterness back in his voice now.

"Viktor!" said Hermione reproachfully, but he wouldn't look up at her.

"Fine," she said after a moment, "I'm going to go do some research." She stalked away toward the Magical Creatures section.

I don't need this right now, she thought angrily, as she scanned the shelves. It irritated her that Viktor was acting so jealous. He's as bad as Ron, she thought. She had always thought of Viktor as a fairly harmless sort, someone who, despite his intensity, would always be interested in spending time with her. She wondered briefly why she felt she couldn't talk to Viktor right now. If it had been Ron, she would have been engaged in a screaming match at that very moment.

Hermione found a book called Chains of Command: Hierarchies Among Magical Entities and pulled it from the shelf. She began flipping through the pages.

"Herm-own-ninny?" came a soft voice behind her.

Hermione turned around. Viktor stood there, looking serious.

"I am sorry for the vay I acted."

Hermione smiled awkwardly. "And I'm sorry that article hurt your feelings. I wasn't lying earlier. Harry and I are just friends, that's all."

There was a doubtful look in Viktor's eyes, but he nodded and took a step closer to her. "I do not really mind that other people know vot I said to you."

Hermione felt herself go pink. She did mind that other people knew. Especially certain people. Ron hadn't said anything to Harry about the article. He hadn't said anything else to Hermione about it either, but she knew, as surely as she had known after that first article months ago, that it bothered him. She saw him watching her and Harry when they were all together, and there was a wary look in his eyes. Harry didn't seem to notice. Every time the Slytherins quoted the article at her or Harry, Ron grew uncharacteristically quiet.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Ron appeared at the end of the aisle. "Hermione, I'm ready to go. Are you finished?" Oddly, he didn't seem surprised to see Viktor with her; in fact, he seemed to be ignoring Viktor altogether.

Hermione turned sharply. "Yes," she said breathlessly, "I'll be there in just a minute." Ron nodded and strode away.

Hermione turned back to Viktor. "I've got to go," she said, relieved that Ron had shown up when he had. She was afraid Viktor might try to kiss her again.

Viktor was giving her a stony look. "I vill see you later," he said, turning back in the direction of his table.

"Goodbye, Viktor," she called after him. With a sigh, she went to check out her book and met Ron by the door.

"Did you find your Quidditch book?" she asked as they went out into the corridor, desperately trying to start a normal conversation.

Ron nodded and held out Forbidden Quidditch.

"Oh, that looks interesting," said Hermione, cringing inwardly at the forced note in her own voice. They walked down the corridor, heading for Gryffindor Tower.

"Did you find your, er--spew book?" Ron asked in a derisive tone, as though he thought that hadn't been what she had been looking for at all.

Hermione gave him a look. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did," she replied loftily.

"So, what, is Vicky helping you with spew now? Going to give him a title?"

Hermione shook her head, thinking how typical it was that Ron would refuse to help her, and then get furious at the idea that Viktor would. "No," she said in a clipped tone. "As a matter of fact, I was just making sure he knew that Rita Skeeter's article was a load of rubbish."

Ron snorted in disgust. "Not all of it," he said venomously.

Hermione looked at him quickly, then turned her face away. "No," she said expressionlessly. "Not all of it. But most of it."

"So are you going to go visit dear old Vicky?" asked Ron, his voice still laden with disgust.

"I don't know yet," said Hermione icily. "And don't call him that."

They continued walking in silence until they reached the portrait hole. Hermione turned to Ron abruptly. "It's really none of your business anyway, Ron. I don't see why it matters to you whether I visit him or not."

Ron looked at her incredulously. "Matter? It doesn't matter to me at all, I just--"

Hermione shook her head in disgust and turned away. She was an idiot to think he would ever admit his feelings to her. "Fairy lights," she snapped at the Fat Lady. The portrait swung open and Hermione climbed in. She heard Ron scramble in behind her, but didn't turn around.

She looked around the common room, but didn't see Harry anywhere. Neville, however, was waving her over. Hermione walked over to where he was sitting at a table by the fire.

"Hi Hermione!" he said. "Can you help me with my Potions homework tonight?"

Hermione glanced up at Ron, who had followed her and was glowering at her from the other side of the table. "No, not tonight, Neville. Maybe tomorrow. I'm really tired...I think I'm going to go up to bed."

"It's only half-past eight!" said Neville in surprise, looking at his watch.

"Yes, I know, but I've had a very tiring day," said Hermione, throwing a dirty look at Ron, who narrowed his eyes at her. "Goodnight," said Hermione, as she turned and went up the stairs to her dormitory.

The next evening, Hermione sat in the common room with Ron and Harry, attempting to get some homework done. She was feeling out of sorts and irritable.

That morning, she had gone with Ron and Harry to the Owlery after breakfast to send a letter to Percy, as Sirius as suggested. Then Harry had wanted to go down to the kitchens to give Dobby the new socks they had picked out for him in Hogsmeade. Neither she nor Ron had said anything more about their conversation from the night before, but the tension between them was definitely still there. Down in the kitchens, they had seen Winky, who had taken to drowning her sorrows in butterbeer. Hermione had been furious to see that the other house-elves were more interested in hiding Winky than helping her. When Hermione had tried to tell them so, to tell them that they deserved so much more than what they got, the house-elves had hurried her, Ron, and Harry out of the room.

That had made her angry enough, but it certainly hadn't helped when Ron had rounded on her immediately, saying, "You couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you, Hermione? They won't want us visiting them now! We could've tried to get more stuff out of Winky about Crouch!"

Hermione had shot back, "Oh, as if you care about that! You only like coming down here for the food!" But she felt almost certain that Ron had been looking for something to snap at her about, and this had just provided a convenient excuse.

Now, as she stared down at her Arithmancy homework, Hermione was even surer this was the case. She and Ron had been sniping at each other all afternoon. She felt like they were having an ongoing argument, only neither of them would admit what it was really about. She didn't want to fight with him, but she somehow felt like she couldn't help it.

"...did that treacle tart taste funny to you?" Ron was asking Harry. "Hope someone didn't upset the house-elves so much they stopped cooking properly. I don't think it was as good as usual."

Hermione replied without looking up at him. "Didn't stop you from eating three pieces, though, did it?" she said sarcastically.

She could feel Ron glaring at her. "I'm telling you, we'd better watch out. They'll probably send complete rubbish up to our table, now you've insulted them like that."

Hermione ignored him and went back to her homework. She had one problem left, and couldn't seem to get it right. She sighed in frustration and pulled out a new sheet of parchment.

Harry pushed back his chair and stood up, causing both Hermione and Ron to look up at him. "I'm going up to the Owlery to send that stuff to Sirius," he said.

"OK, we'll come with you," said Ron, pushing back his own chair.

"No, that's OK," said Harry quickly. "You two stay here and get some work done."

Hermione looked at him, slightly puzzled, but nodded. Harry went up the stairs to his dormitory to get the food, then came down a few minutes later and went out through the portrait hole.

Ron watched the portrait swing shut. "What's his problem?" he asked pensively.

Hermione shrugged. "No idea." She went back to her homework. She and Ron worked in silence for awhile, but she could feel the tension between them.

"Hermione?"

"What?" she said irritably, looking up. But it wasn't Ron who had spoken; it was Neville, who was standing next to her, holding out his Potions homework. "Oh, sorry, Neville. What is it?"

"Can you help me with my Potions homework now? You said last night you would."

"Oh, yes, of course, Neville. Sit down."

Neville came around and sat in Harry's vacated seat. Ron muttered something under his breath that Hermione couldn't make out. She glared sharply at him, and he subsided.

Hermione turned back to Neville. "What do you need help with, Neville?"

"Well," he began, "I didn't get my Wit-Sharpening Potion right at all. Can you tell me what I did wrong?"

Hermione leaned over Neville's parchment and looked at the list of ingredients he had copied down.

"You'd better watch out, Neville. Hermione's taken, you know," said Ron maliciously from across the table. Hermione looked at him quickly, wondering exactly what he meant by that.

Neville looked up, bewildered. "What?"

"Nothing, Neville," said Hermione, shooting a venomous glare at Ron. "Don't mind Ron, he can't help being an idiot."

"I'm an idiot?" said Ron. "I'm not the one who got Rita Skeeter mad at me, then annoyed all the house-elves."

Here we go again, thought Hermione. Apparently they were going to have another argument about everything but what it was really about.

Neville was looking back and forth between them with a look of discomfort. "I--I just thought of something I have to do. Maybe we can do this later, Hermione?" he asked, his expression begging her to let him get away.

"Yes, fine, Neville," said Hermione distractedly, her eyes narrowed at Ron. Neville scrambled out of his chair and moved quickly to the other side of the common room.

"Scared him away, did you?" said Ron, with something like satisfaction on his face.

"What did you say that for, Ron?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her voice even.

"What?" said Ron angrily. Hermione just stared back at him. She knew that he knew what she meant.

"Well, it's true, isn't it? You know, I think Neville's got a bit of a crush on you, I wouldn't want him to get hurt..."

"Oh, stop it, Ron!" Hermione hissed. "This isn't about Neville and you know it. If you want to be jealous, then I suggest you go do it somewhere else, because I'm sick of it!" With that, Hermione began gathering up her books, avoiding Ron's eyes.

"Jealous?" Ron said loudly. "Jealous?" he repeated, lowering his voice. "I am not jealous. I just thought you might tell your friends the truth, at least."

Hermione laughed derisively. "The truth? You want me to tell you the truth? All right, fine. The truth is, you are a clueless git, and I am going to bed. Goodnight." She turned emphatically and swept up the stairs to her dormitory, wondering how many times she had made this kind of dramatic exit after fighting with Ron.

Monday morning, Hermione woke with a feeling of dread in her stomach. After a few minutes, she realized that it was due to the continual fighting the night before. She decided to pretend that it hadn't happened, and try to be in a good mood.

When she got down to breakfast, she could see that Ron was doing the same thing. He greeted her with a cheery "Good morning" as she slid into her seat at the Gryffindor table. Harry looked at the two of them quickly, and seemed relieved that they were not fighting.

As they were finishing breakfast, the post owls arrived. Hermione looked up, remembering the subscription to the Daily Prophet she had taken out on Friday after Potions class.

"Percy won't've had time to answer yet," said Ron, sounding positively friendly. "We only sent Hedwig yesterday."

Hermione explained to them about her subscription, and they all looked up as a grey owl soared down to her. It was followed by six other owls of assorted colors and sizes.

"How many subscriptions did you take out?" asked Harry, as the owls all jostled close to Hermione.

Hermione, completely bewildered, took the letter from the grey owl. "What on earth--?" She opened the letter and read it. It had been composed from letters cut from a newspaper. Hermione felt herself grow red as she scanned the page.

You are a WickEd giRL. HaRRy PottEr desErves BetteR. gO Back wheRe you cAMe from mUggle.

"Oh, really!" she spluttered in disgust.

"What's up?" said Ron, looking concerned.

Hermione stared at the letter. "It's--oh, how ridiculous--" She thrust the letter at Harry, finding herself unable to look at Ron. Hermione began opening the other envelopes as Harry read the first letter, Ron leaning over his shoulder to read it as well.

"They're all like that!" Hermione exclaimed, looking over the others. "'Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you...' 'You deserve to be boiled in frog-spawn...'" Hermione raised her head and saw the uneasy look on Ron's face. This distracted her, and she wasn't paying attention as she opened the last envelope.

"Ouch!" she cried, as yellowish green liquid gushed out all over her hands, causing them to erupt into large yellow boils.

"Undiluted Bubotuber pus!" said Ron in alarm, carefully taking the envelope from her and sniffing it.

Hermione grabbed her napkin and tried to wipe the disgusting liquid off her hands, but it had already done its damage. She felt tears of pain and embarrassment well up in her eyes as she looked down at her sore-covered fingers.

"You'd better go to the hospital wing," said Harry, "we'll tell Professor Sprout where you've gone..."

Hermione painfully gathered up her bag and sped from the Great Hall. She could hear Ron behind her as she left, saying "I warned her!" Even now, he can't be sympathetic, can he? she thought.

Hermione made her way to the hospital wing. When Madame Pomfrey saw her, she clucked at her impatiently and steered her into a bed.

"And what have you been up to this time, young lady?" said the nurse disapprovingly.

"Nothing!" said Hermione honestly, her face still streaming with tears of pain. "Someone sent me a letter full of Bubotuber pus, and I didn't know until I opened it."

Madame Pomfrey looked at her skeptically. "Of course, dear. Now stay still. I'm going to put some phoenix-tear salve on your hands. You'll have to wait a bit for it to sink in, then we can bandage them up."

Hermione nodded. Madame Pomfrey set to work, rubbing the salve into Hermione's hands. The nurse was surprisingly gentle, despite her brisk manner, but it still hurt quite a bit. Hermione felt the tears starting in her eyes again. Just when Hermione thought she wouldn't be able to stand another second, Madame Pomfrey stopped and put the lid back onto the jar of salve.

"There now, you just rest here. It takes at least an hour or so to take proper effect."

Hermione's hands were starting to tingle. She could still feel the pain underneath, but it was more like a throbbing ache now. Hermione leaned her head back against the pillow and tried to keep her hands still.

She thought about those letters and wondered what had happened to them. She fervently hoped that Ron or Harry had thought to burn them; the last thing she needed was Pansy Parkinson quoting those letters to her as well. She wondered how anyone could take anything Rita Skeeter had written seriously. Honestly, did people believe everything they read in magazines or newspapers, no matter how ridiculous it was?

Hermione suddenly remembered how furious Ron had been when Malfoy had shown him the article about his family in the Daily Prophet earlier this year. Now she understood exactly how he had felt.

Well, she thought to herself, at least my parents won't see it. And everyone who really mattered to her in the wizarding world would know better than to believe those lies.

Still, the hurtful words lingered in her mind. "I'll be sending you a curse by next post as soon as I find a big enough envelope." "How could anyone hurt that sweet boy, after he has been through so much? You are a horrible, horrible person and I hope you rot." It suddenly occurred to her that not a single letter had mentioned Viktor. She found this ironic, as he had been the one who was really hurt by that stupid article. Hermione sighed heavily. She supposed she could count on another onslaught of hate mail from Viktor's fan club any time now.

After what seemed like ages, Madame Pomfrey finally came back to inspect Hermione's hands. She nodded approvingly. "Very good," she said, as though Hermione had had something to do with the salve's effectiveness. "Let's get you bandaged up then." She picked up her wand and gave it a tiny flick. White bandages shot out of the end of it and wrapped themselves around Hermione's outstretched hands. Hermione looked at her hands and was reminded of Mickey Mouse in the cartoons she had watched as a child.

"There you are," said Madame Pomfrey, clapping her hands together briskly. "Now off to class."

Hermione thanked the nurse and gathered up her schoolbag with difficulty. Her fingers were still swollen, and the bandages made it difficult to bend them.

Looking at her watch, she realized she had missed Herbology and most of Care of Magical Creatures. She decided to go out to Hagrid's hut and try to catch the end of the lesson, at least. When she arrived, she was greeted by the sight of her classmates sitting on the ground around a large patch of plowed earth, while small furry creatures Hermione recognized as Nifflers raced back and forth.

"Oh, there y'are, Hermione!" Hagrid boomed out when he saw her. Hermione nodded miserably. She noticed Pansy Parkinson watching her with a crafty expression on her face. Pansy looked like she was about to say something, when Hagrid's voice boomed out again, calling the class to him.

"Well, let's check how yeh've done! Count yer coins! An' there's no point tryin' ter steal any, Goyle. It's leprechaun gold. Vanishes after a few hours."

The students emptied out their pockets and Hagrid counted up their coins. Hermione supposed they had had some sort of contest with the Nifflers digging up gold in the plowed earth. A moment later, Hagrid announced the winner.

"Ron, yeh've got the most!" said Hagrid, handing him a huge slab of Honeydukes chocolate. Ron, who never won anything, looked delighted for a moment, then his face fell, as though he had just remembered something unpleasant. He remained quiet as the rest of the class departed and the three of them helped Hagrid get the Nifflers back in their boxes. He didn't even say a word when Hagrid told them about some of the horrible hate mail he had received.

"You missed a really good lesson," said Harry, as the three of them walked back towards the castle. "They're good, Nifflers, aren't they, Ron?"

Ron didn't answer. Hermione turned and saw him trailing behind them, staring at the bar of chocolate with the same crestfallen look on his face.

"What's the matter? Wrong flavor?" joked Harry.

"No," said Ron, sounding rather annoyed. "Why didn't you tell me about the gold?" Uh-oh, thought Hermione.

Harry looked confused. "What gold?"

"The gold I gave you at the Quidditch World Cup. The leprechaun gold I gave you for my Omnioculars. In the top box." Ron's voice was rising steadily. "Why didn't you tell me it disappeared?"

Hermione looked at Harry uneasily. She knew there was no way to answer that question without getting Ron angry.

Harry continued to look confused for a moment, then said, in an offhand sort of way that Hermione knew would annoy Ron further, "Oh...dunno...I never noticed it had gone. I was more worried about my wand, wasn't I?"

Hermione glanced over at Ron. He was clenching his jaw, but he didn't say anything as they climbed the castle steps and entered the Great Hall for lunch. Hermione watched him warily as they sat down and started eating. She knew he wouldn't let this go that easily.

"Must be nice," Ron said suddenly, "to have so much money you don't notice if a pocketful of Galleons goes missing."

Harry's reply was impatient. "Listen, I had other stuff on my mind that night. We all did, remember?" Hermione gave Harry a warning look, which he seemed to ignore.

Ron was now staring down at his plate. "I didn't know leprechaun gold vanishes. I thought I was paying you back. You shouldn't've gotten me that Chudley Cannon hat for Christmas."

Hermione wished there was something she could say. She knew how much Ron hated what he called "taking charity" from his friends.

"Forget it, all right?" said Harry, still sounding impatient.

Ron stabbed at a potato with his fork. "I hate being poor," he said vehemently.

Hermione exchanged a look with Harry. She could see he didn't know what to say any more than she did.

Ron, meanwhile, was glaring at the potato on the end of his fork as if taking out all his anger upon it. "It's rubbish. I don't blame Fred and George for trying to make some extra money. Wish I could. Wish I had a Niffler," he finished moodily.

"Well, we know what to get you next Christmas," said Hermione cheerfully, trying to lighten his mood. It didn't work. Hermione sighed and picked up her knife and fork. "Come on, Ron, it could be worse. At least your fingers aren't full of pus." She tried again to cut her meat, then threw down the silverware in frustration. "I hate that Skeeter woman! I'll get her back for this if it's the last thing I do!"

Ron looked up and gave her a lopsided grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.