A Brokan Romance
[With a little Hogwarts mixed in]
Chapter Four
Hermione didn't even bother to muffle her sobs with her now often-used muteness spell. She didn't care if Professor McGongall, or even , Snape, found her and gave her a weeeks' worth of detention. She doubted she would even resist if Albus Dumbledore himself expelled her from Hogwarts. Nothing mattered any more. She was once again the lonely bookworm. Ron left her. Harry left her. It hurt, hurt in ways she could not even comprehend. Her muscles were weak and stiff when she finally lifted her head. She doubted her complexion was any different from yesterdays', when Ron found her. Ron. The very name sent a slicing through her heart. She, for a few precious hours, had found solace in another human being. But Harry-he still meant something to her. Somewhere, deep inside her, she could still feel the burning flame of the love she had for him. It was as though she was being twisted apart, torn between Ron and Harry. Yet after what she had done, she hardly blamed either of them for being angry with her, even if that wasn't why Harry was ignoring her. Miserably, she tried to straighten her appearance. She easily performed a tricky charm which dried her eyes, covered the puffs around them, and straightened her hair considerably. The only catch was that it wore off in just a few moments time. Hermione flew from the classroom, through the now empty corridors, up the familiar staircases, around the sharp corners and through the portrait hole once again. The sight was surprisingly not upsetting to her. Harry was sitting on the couch, holding Cho in his arms. She lay across his lap, looking happy as ever. Hermione drew a breath. No more tears, she thought. They wouldn't help anything. So she drew herself up to her full height and did what she never would have thought possible. She sat on the lumpy armchair next to the loveseat where Harry and Cho were and began to read the first thing she could find-yesterday's Daily Prophet. Since she hadn't been in the Great Hall to pick up her copy the other morning, she hadn't read any of it. She snorted. Rita Skeeter had the article on the first page, though, because Hermione had caught her last year under two charges (being on the Hogwarts grounds and working as an unregistered Animagus) it wasn't derogatory. Smiling slightly, Hermione turned the page. All was usual around the Ministry of Magic. An old lady with an exploding vacuum cleaner had accidently sold it to a muggle and fined for "Misuse of Muggle Artifacts", the office where Mr. Weasley worked. Thinking of Ron, again, brought a stab of pain through her, but Hermione took a deep breath again and the feeling passed. Hermione flipped through the Prophet casually until she reached the Personals. Yes, though it was somewhat disgraceful, witches and wizards did take this custom from anti-magic people and used it as a fun addition to their paper. One particular personal caught her eye. It read as follows, "To the witty, copper-haired, blue-eyed, Gryffindor 5th year whom has a taste for guys from Bulgaria but doesn't like Quidditch: I love you. I watch you every day, inspecting your every graceful move. I want to be with you more than anything. Meet me at the Great Hall at 6:00 PM on Sunday. I will be at the entrance waiting for you." Hermione shuddered. She hated those. There were so creepy. Who would want to know that some psychopath liked them. As if! She thought about the Quidditch part. There weren't very many witches that didn't like Quidditch, herself included. Hermione thought about all the 5th years in her dormitory. Lavender fit the description, though she wasn't sure if Lavender's eyes were blue and if she liked guys from Bulgaria. She was sure Parvati wasn't the one. Mulling it over, Lavender was the only possible answer. Shrugging, Hermione kept reading. The rest were pretty standard, she saw, as usual, several to Fleur Delacour, the part-veela that had been at Hogwarts last year for the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione forgot that Harry and Cho were in the room until she finally stood up and put down the Prophet. She held down a yelp. Slightly tired, she made her way up to her dormitory where she decided to study for a quiz in the History of Magic they would have the next day. As she went to sit down on her bed, she passed the magic mirror on the wall. She stopped dead, than turned to look at it again. An extremely smart girl with bushy copper hair and huge blue eyes stared back at her. Krum! Krum was from Bulgaria! And everyone knew that she wasn't fond of Quidditch! Gasping, Hermione looked at the clock on the wall. Quarter to six! If she was going to go down to the Great Hall and meet her mystery admirer, she had better do it soon! Fifteen minutes later Hermione was rushing down to greet her date before he gave up and left. Breathless, she halted in front of the entrance to the Hall. Dozens of students were eating their dinner there already, though most waited until after seven to do so. Once again, Hermione noticed that there were almost all the Slytherins eating simontaniously. She took her post again, waiting for whoever it was. She looked down at her nails as she waited. She twiddled her thumbs as she waited. She crosses and uncrossed her legs below the ankles as she waited. But still no one came. Five more minutes, she thought, she would give them five more minutes. So she did. And she gave them another five minutes…and another, and another. Until finally it was 7:30 and Hermione disgustedly sat down at the Gryffindor table. She had waited around for an hour and a half for someone who didn't even come. She disdainfully bit into a piece of chicken. Losing her appetite, she placed it back down on her plate and rushed out of the Hall yet again. Whoever did this to her would pay, she would make sure of that! She stomped, not to Gryffindor Tower, but, in fact, to the room of Professor Trelawney. She knew that, even though she had ran out of Divanation the year before, the professor would be overly anxious to show off her "vision". When she neared her office, she slowed down, walking softly in order to not make a big fuss. She tapped lightly on Professor Trelawney's door. "Yes, my child?" came the wispy voice of Trelawney. Hermione shakily opened the door and sat down in front of Professor Trelawney's desk. The room was cluttered in star charts, tea bags, planetariums, and crystal balls. Two poufs were in front of her ornately carved desk and the chintz armchair the professor sat in was pink and flowery. The professor had her eyes closed, as though in a trance. "Er, Professor Trelawney, this is Hermione Granger-you know, the one you said had no aura and left your class in April of last year?" Professor Trelawney flinched a bit when she heard this but nodded. "Well", said Hermione, pressing on , "I figure you were right. I'm a horrible hand at this stuff and I need your help. Someone set me up and bailed on me today, and I need to find out who. I promise, I'll do anything you want if you can tell me." Professor Trelawney didn't move, but opened her eyes very slightly. "So you wish for my asssitance with the eye, Miss Granger." "Er…yes." "On normal circumstances, you do understand, this would be unheard of. But since I was gazing recently I found out that something very important, and indeed, very tangled, is going to happen to you, I suppose I must. Follow me." Professor Trelawney finally got up and lead Hermione to a back room. There was a small table, quite like a muggle card table, in the center, under which a small, glowing red ball was hovering. It was beautiful, the bright hues dancing and flickering like flames and the ball itself staying perfectly still. Hermione stared at it for moment until the professor began to speak. "Alas, I cannot do this for you. This can only be used by those who do not possess the power of the eye, so I rarely even look at it. What I need for you to do is stare it. It may take seconds, minutes, sometimes even hours. However, eventually a form will appear there, and they will be the answer to your question. Mind you, all I'm saying is that they will be the answer to your question, and not necessarily the one you are searching for. I must bid you good-bye now. Good luck." Hermione watched as Professor Trelawney left the room. She sat down in front of the ball and stared very hard at it, thinking all the while that it was very stupid. After several moments, however, a dark figure appeared across it. At first Hermione thought it was Lord Voldemort, but than she dismissed the idea as ridiculous. Besides, the figure was now becoming more distinct, and was most definitly the sillhouette of a boy. The image became sharper and sharper. The person was wearing scarlet Quidditch robes and holding a broomstick. The face was still fuzzy, however. And than for a split second, right before the whole picutre disappeared, Hermione saw a bright, lighting shape on what had to have been the boy's forehead.