AN: Pwease don't kill me. Hermione's okay, she's just sad. She's also
wondering if anyone will find out her secret. What's her secret, you ask?
Hehe…don't bother. I'm not telling yet. Dunno if it's this chapter or
not, but hopefully you will know who it was she was kissing the night Harry
saw her…O.o what a story!
P.S.: You know the routine by now…
Chapter Five: Things Aren't The Way They Were Before
Hermione rushed out of the room, trying to avoid all the stares she was receiving. Harry noticed that tears streaked her face, and that she was very miserable. She seemed guilty of something; it was obvious by the way she moved.
"Hermione!" Ron called out, trying to catch up with her. He threw Ron a look of worry, then ran after her. Now that Hermione and Ron weren't the ones kissing, Harry felt that he should probably apologize.
He couldn't, though. It was no matter how hard he tried; the right words never came. He sat in lunch, looking in the blank spot where Hermione and Ron usually sat. His stomach sank. He knew he should at least ask Ron if she's okay.
Harry finished his lunch quickly and dashed upstairs. When he saw the Fat Lady, he said, "Periwinkle" and she opened up for him.
Stepping inside, Harry looked around for Ron and Hermione. They were in the common room, and Ron was hugging Hermione protectively, running his fingers through her hair.
Harry stood in the doorway a moment. He saw Ron kiss the top of her forehead reassuringly, and she hugged him tighter. They looked rather content. Hermione wasn't crying as much, and Ron looked oddly satisfied.
Harry backed up and leaned against the wall. He suppressed a sigh, knowing that Hermione was okay. He just felt…bizarre. Harry couldn't get the image out of his head. Ron really liked Hermione. But it wasn't him who was kissing her. Hermione, quite frankly, hadn't changed all that much to get so much attention from boys.
Not that she didn't deserve it, of course. Ron was very much jealous of her when she went to the Yule Ball last year with Viktor Krum, a Quidditch seeker like himself. He was peeved that she was conversing with the enemy. But Harry, even then, he supposed, could tell that Ron was thoroughly jealous of Krum.
And Hermione…was very resentful when Fleur Delacour gave them each a kiss for saving her sister, during the second task. Albeit, it was on the cheek, but Harry could sense some jealousy there. He sighed deeply.
Why did he feel so alone?
Harry was walking to the library to look up some things for Professor McGonagall, when Malfoy appeared out of nowhere. "Potter, I want a word with you," he demanded.
Harry looked at him with disgust. "Why would I do that, Malfoy? Why don't you crawl back under the rock you came from?"
Malfoy sneered. "I'm trying to be polite, Potter. It's hard with assholes like you."
Harry was taken aback. Malfoy had never really used the greatest language, but he was never the direct of it. "Back off, Malfoy," Harry snapped. "I don't care to talk with the likes of you."
Malfoy furrowed his brow. "Potter, please. Truce?" He extended his hand.
Harry looked it, then back at Malfoy's pale face. "Is it that important?" Malfoy nodded.
Harry, hesitantly, shook his hand. "Truce."
Though Harry had the sneaking suspicion that this was more than it seemed.
P.S.: You know the routine by now…
Chapter Five: Things Aren't The Way They Were Before
Hermione rushed out of the room, trying to avoid all the stares she was receiving. Harry noticed that tears streaked her face, and that she was very miserable. She seemed guilty of something; it was obvious by the way she moved.
"Hermione!" Ron called out, trying to catch up with her. He threw Ron a look of worry, then ran after her. Now that Hermione and Ron weren't the ones kissing, Harry felt that he should probably apologize.
He couldn't, though. It was no matter how hard he tried; the right words never came. He sat in lunch, looking in the blank spot where Hermione and Ron usually sat. His stomach sank. He knew he should at least ask Ron if she's okay.
Harry finished his lunch quickly and dashed upstairs. When he saw the Fat Lady, he said, "Periwinkle" and she opened up for him.
Stepping inside, Harry looked around for Ron and Hermione. They were in the common room, and Ron was hugging Hermione protectively, running his fingers through her hair.
Harry stood in the doorway a moment. He saw Ron kiss the top of her forehead reassuringly, and she hugged him tighter. They looked rather content. Hermione wasn't crying as much, and Ron looked oddly satisfied.
Harry backed up and leaned against the wall. He suppressed a sigh, knowing that Hermione was okay. He just felt…bizarre. Harry couldn't get the image out of his head. Ron really liked Hermione. But it wasn't him who was kissing her. Hermione, quite frankly, hadn't changed all that much to get so much attention from boys.
Not that she didn't deserve it, of course. Ron was very much jealous of her when she went to the Yule Ball last year with Viktor Krum, a Quidditch seeker like himself. He was peeved that she was conversing with the enemy. But Harry, even then, he supposed, could tell that Ron was thoroughly jealous of Krum.
And Hermione…was very resentful when Fleur Delacour gave them each a kiss for saving her sister, during the second task. Albeit, it was on the cheek, but Harry could sense some jealousy there. He sighed deeply.
Why did he feel so alone?
Harry was walking to the library to look up some things for Professor McGonagall, when Malfoy appeared out of nowhere. "Potter, I want a word with you," he demanded.
Harry looked at him with disgust. "Why would I do that, Malfoy? Why don't you crawl back under the rock you came from?"
Malfoy sneered. "I'm trying to be polite, Potter. It's hard with assholes like you."
Harry was taken aback. Malfoy had never really used the greatest language, but he was never the direct of it. "Back off, Malfoy," Harry snapped. "I don't care to talk with the likes of you."
Malfoy furrowed his brow. "Potter, please. Truce?" He extended his hand.
Harry looked it, then back at Malfoy's pale face. "Is it that important?" Malfoy nodded.
Harry, hesitantly, shook his hand. "Truce."
Though Harry had the sneaking suspicion that this was more than it seemed.
