AN: PLEASE! Halfway through the chapter, don't stop reading. I hope I'm making it pretty clear that although Ron likes Hermione, she doesn't like him back. So, don't flame. I'm really working hard on getting chapters done quickly, but it really helps if I get reviews... I have about 4 assignments to do, so I want to prioritise and...:D hmmmm...*wink wink, nudge nudge* I know my chapters don't look very long, but I've done extremely long chapter before and it didn't really work. Besides, cliffies are fun.
Kudos to IcyShadow for the review. I love cookies, but its no good trying to tempt me cos I'm the kind of person who licks the flavouring off biscuits *g* You see, cookies don't have that, so it doesn't work very well. :P ENJOY...
Chapter Six
"Harry?" Hermione called as she weaved her way around the busy Gryffindor common room. "Harry?"
Two flashes of blondish-brown hair came into Hermione's view. "Looking for Harry?" the Creevey brothers asked, grinning mischievously.
"No, I'm looking for tomato soup by the name 'Harry'," Hermione replied sarcastically. "Have you seen him?"
"Well..." Colin started to say.
"...We saw him," Dennis finished for him. "I mean, it was a few minutes ago. We're not really sure where he is anymore."
"Okay then, where do you think he went?" Hermione asked, beginning to become slightly agitated. The Creevey brothers were nice (and handy when it came to observation), but they were rather grating when they were around for more than a few seconds at a time. Or maybe it was just because she was too much of a square to appreciate their eccentricity, like with the Weasley twins.
"We think he went to the library," Colin butted in before Dennis had the chance to play with Hermione's mind any further. She seemed too desperate to find Harry to be cruel to. "We saw that he had books when we passed him on the way here, on the staircase. We saw him take that corridor."
"You're nosy, but you know we love you. You should become...reporters," she gushed, and took off out the portrait hole again. Taking her time, she walked at a normal, but brusque, pace toward the familiar direction of the library. She didn't need to think what he could possibly be in there for—he was hiding. He knew she would never think to look in there. He only ever went when she was with him and if not, only for a few minutes at a time. In which case he would've been back in the common room already, with an armful of borrowed books.
"Hermione?" Ron's voice called out, as she descended her second flight of stairs. "Found him yet?"
"Colin thinks he's in the library, so I'm going to check it out," she said, joining Ron on the next landing. "Might as well. I don't have any other clues anyway."
"I'll come with you," Ron jumped in. "I mean I need to talk to him anyway."
"Are you sure you don't know what's up with him?" she asked, with growing suspicion towards Ron.
"Not entirely, no."
"Odd, isn't it?" she said. She tilted her head to one side and looked at Ron, who was looking straight ahead and looked deep in thought. Kind of like Harry, she thought.
"Yeah, I guess," Ron finally said.
They had arrived at the library and upon entering, found that it, too, was buzzing with energy from students about to go home for Christmas, mostly first- through to third-years. Madam Pince wasn't at the front desk as she usually was. Instead, she was flitting from table to table, asking people to settle down and speak in quieter voices, which was understandable as people were nearly shouting across the room.
"How are we supposed to find him in *here*?" Ron asked, gulping. He scanned the large space and couldn't even find a trace of anyone in fourth-year, let alone sixth. "There are all these...little people in here."
"Exactly, so he should be easy to find then," she pointed out. "Let's check between the stacks first."
"I hope Colin wasn't just fooling with you," he said as they reached 'Hags – Hellbeasts' in the non-fiction section with still no sign of Harry.
"He wasn't. I'm sure. He looked serious this time." A few minutes later, in 'Snakes – Stun', Hermione remembered what Ron had started to say before she'd rushed off. "What was it you wanted to ask me before?"
"What? When?"
"It was about half an hour ago. You said you wanted to ask me something," she said while still keeping her eyes moving through the shelves for eyes peeking through the shelves and as always, interesting reads.
And, of course, Harry.
"Oh...that," he said dejectedly. He'd hoped she would've forgotten. But who was he kidding? Hermione wouldn't forget anything unless she had a curse placed upon her. "Well, I..."
"Come on, spit it out," she said, smiling. It looked to her as if he was nervous about asking someone to the Ball and wanted to know, from a girl's perspective, whether he had a chance or not. Did he have a crush on anyone? Was it someone she knew?
"Okay, okay," Ron said, giving up. "Will you go to the Ball with me?"
Hermione's eyes widened and she paused in mid-step. Does that mean he's asking me because I'm a friend or because he likes me? She didn't have time to think about it, though. It was clear that Ron liked her as more than a friend. Still. She had hoped he'd gotten over it and fallen for someone who would be able to like him back.
She turned around to face him and smiled warmly. His cheeks had grown rather pink. "Well, I couldn't very well say no, could I?"
"But I don't want you to go with me just because you feel ob—" he started to say, but was interrupted from the moment he started to make the 'o' sound in 'obliged'.
"Nonsense. It's not like anyone else has asked me anyway," she said, grinning. "Glad to see you realised that I'm a girl this time. Besides, it would've ended up being either you or Harry no matter what."
Unbeknownst to them, a pair of eyes was watching from the next row of stacks. The owner of the eyes was also using their ears, attentively listening to the conversation. Harry had thought he had been a little ticked off by Ron before, but now he could see that it had gotten even worse. He had the awful suspicion that Ron had planned the whole immature argument just so he could ask Hermione to the Ball without feeling extremely guilty about it.
He made a quick exit as soon as he saw they had moved on. He wasn't going to be fussed by this. He knew a long time ago that Ron liked Hermione, but now he didn't know whether to feel wronged by him or to apologise to him about being such an ass.
"You two are hopeless, you know that right?" Hermione continued to tell Ron. "I don't know why I even bother."
*****
"What day is it today, Wormtail?" a rasping voice spoke from the chair that stood in the middle of the room. The chair, a maroon leather chesterfield, faced the fireplace and had long since started to look its age.
Wormtail quivered slightly and glanced reluctantly at the calendar on the wall. "Ah, a week until Christmas, my Lord. It's the 18th of December."
"I know how to subtract, thank you very much, Wormtail. What day of the week is it?" the voice rasped again in a considerably angrier tone of voice. It seemed to him that his least trustworthy servant was off thinking his master a fool.
"Um...um...Sunday?"
"The Sabbath is it? How ironic."
"Uh, uh, why is it ironic, my lord?" Wormtail spoke again in a shaky voice. He sensed that his master was conjuring a plan that could very well get him killed or captured or something along those lines. Just being around him for such long periods of time was detrimental to his frame of mind, more so than the ceaseless mutterings of one too many Weasley brothers with psychiatric issues to deal with (enough to confide in their pet *rat*, that is).
"The blessed day of rest, the Sabbath. And Christmas, the birth of Christ," Voldemort said as he rose from his chair and turned his hideous face toward his servant. He snarled and a grin grew upon his face, "This Christmas will see the death of the magical world's very own Saviour. And I won't *rest* until Harry Potter is dead."
"Oh, well, then that is qu-quite ironic th-then."
