Okay, so here's the dealie, everyone---I FINALLY wrote something besides my Condensed Series!! Drinks all around!! _ Oy. I've seen "Pirates of the Caribbean" one too many times! (Curse you, QteCuttlfish! HA! ^_^) Anyhoo, this is my very first attempt at writing a serious fanfic, so please do review me and tell me what you think! Oh, and please, BE NICE!! Much appreciated.
Ahem. And now for the disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They belong to the great J.K. Rowling and the great J.K. Rowling alone. Additionally, please keep in mind that these characters *are* of legal age. Thanks, mates! ^_^ Now sit back and prepare to be dazzled! Ha! (At least I hope you'll be dazzled. GAH O_o)
Penetrating the Goody-Goody Myth
Chapter 1: Ron Weasley and His Issues
It was a fairly average day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry---the sun shone bright in the England sky and the first crisp taste of autumn filled the air. Hermione Granger stood beside the lake and watched the waves ripple in the slight breeze. She brushed a bit of stray bushy hair behind her ear, thinking of what her final year at Hogwarts would be like. School had begun only a few days ago, but already she felt the intense academic burden of a 7th year. Transfiguration had loaded her down with homework, as did Arithmancy and Potions. She heaved a rather large sigh. Everyone who knew her had always thought her to be a know-it-all, goody-goody...and to an extent, she was...but as she had grown into a young woman, she'd come to find that she wanted more out of life than her brains...she wanted adventure, romance, passion...she wanted love. Unfortunately, she'd thought perhaps her and Ron might've had something, but the stupid git had gone after Lavender Brown last year. I'm glad she broke his heart, Hermione thought bitterly. She kicked at a stubborn rock and shivered as the breeze grew stronger. She felt so lonely.
"Mione! Hey Mione!" A familiar male voice called from behind her. Hermione whirled around and heaved her bookbag over her shoulder as it had started to slip. Harry was running up to her, all out of breath. "Hey Mione," he wheezed, bending over to catch his breath. "I'd worried where you'd gone. You've disappeared in the afternoons for the past three days now."
Hermione nodded and smiled warmly at her best friend. "Yeah," said she. "I've needed some time to think, Harry. Can you believe we're almost done? It seems like only yesterday I was bossing you and Ron around..."
Harry laughed as he managed to catch more breath. "How could I forget, Mione? And hey, you STILL boss us around!"
Hermione laughed, too. "Okay, you're right...but I do it only for your own good. I mean, Ron's just barely going to make it, Harry, and it doesn't even bother him. When is he going to get serious?"
Harry shrugged. He looked a bit uncomfortable. "Ah, you know Ron. He'll pull it all together at the last minute like he always manages to do."
Hermione shrugged as well, then smiled and gave Harry a massive hug. It always made her feel better to hug him; Harry was a warm, safe, secure thing in her life. She could always count on him, no matter what.
"Come on, you bookworm," Harry said, patting her on the back. "No need to worry about Ron right now. Dinner's going to be served soon."
Hermione cringed slightly, as talking about dinner always reminded her of those poor slaves-of-house-elves, working themselves to death for absolutely nothing in the basement kitchens of the school. S.P.E.W. had fallen through ages ago, not like it ever got going to begin with. But Hermione was still a desperate advocate for elven rights to wages and holidays---she hoped one day, maybe if she worked for the Ministry, something could be done. However, for now, she trudged back into the castle with Harry, preparing herself to eat another feast cooked by defenseless house elves.
As Harry and Hermione entered the Great Hall and took their seats at the Gryffindor table, Ron plopped himself down across from them, a huge frown on his face. He looked as if the world had just come to an end.
"All right, Ron?" asked Hermione, as she reached for a leg of chicken.
Ron glared at her sullenly. "As if I'd tell you."
Hermione set her chicken leg neatly on her plate before glaring back at Ron. "Ronald Weasley, honestly. What the devil is the matter with you?"
Ron huffed and snatched a chicken leg for himself. He took a big angry bite out of it and chewed hard, his eyes darting back and forth, as if watching for someone. Even Harry looked puzzled as the three ate their food, an island of silence in a sea of chatter. Ron finished his chicken and licked his fingers before clearing his throat.
"I asked Lavender back out," he told them grimly. "But she said 'no', and do you know why?" At this, he shot another glare at Hermione. "Because Lavender said I'm friends with YOU. Because it would be YOU who always stood in the way. Lavender said she couldn't go out with a guy who had such a close friendship with another girl---"
"---And this is somehow MY fault?!" Hermione interrupted, absolutely livid. Harry sensed a fight coming on, so he tried to change the subject.
"Say, Ron, about Quidditch practice later, I was thinking that---"
"Yes, it's your fault!" Ron snapped, oblivious that Harry had been speaking. "I've told you to let me alone if Harry's not around…otherwise Lavender suspects that we're a couple. But you never do! Always coming 'round, Mione, you're always coming 'round, especially when I'm with Lavender. You pick the most inopportune---"
Hermione slammed down her fork, causing a few people around them to stop talking. "Ron, I have never been so insulted. Tell me something, you git, who's more important? The girl who has been your best friend for nearly 7 years, or the girl who has broken your heart not only once, but twice? Tell me, Ron, who matters more?" By now, Hermione had a tear trickling down her cheek, followed by another, and another. She was practically shaking with anger. How could Ron be so immature? She was both hurt and utterly astonished at the same time. How could their friendship not even matter to Ron? She folded her arms and glowered at him.
Ron didn't say a single word. He averted his eyes from her and huffed again, folding his arms as well. Harry looked from one best friend to the other, before heaving a large sigh.
"Ron---" He began.
"Don't, Harry," Ron retorted.
"Hermione---" Harry began again.
"Don't, Harry," Hermione repeated Ron and stood quite abruptly. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes. "Ron, when you're ready to stop acting like a big baby, I'll be at the pitch."
"So you are coming to watch us then?" Harry noticed hopefully. He pulled off his glasses to rub off a smudge on one of the lenses. All the tension, however, made him a bit shaky, and he rubbed his lenses a bit too hard, snapping the bridge in two. "Oh bugger…" he sighed. "These damn things are so old…"
Without thinking, Hermione pointed her wand at his glasses and muttered, "Occulus reparo." Instantly, Harry's glasses were repaired, and he put them back on, gazing at her with a grin. She nodded and smiled. When would Harry ever learn that spell? You'd've thought by now he would've had it to a tee.
"How many times does this make, Harry?" Hermione teased, forgetting for a moment that she and Ron had been having a row.
Harry folded his arms with a mock frown. "Three. I haven't broken them since second year, thank you very much."
"Which is why you've forgotten the spell?" Hermione asked critically, raising an eyebrow.
Harry smirked and nodded. "Yeah, I mean I've only been battling Voldemort forever… (Ron cringed, as always) I've had other things on my mind."
Hermione grinned, "Whatever you say, Harry, and yes, I'm still planning on watching the practice today. I can study Arithmancy while I'm there, too. I like studying outside these days."
Ron guffawed. "Never take a moment to rest do you, Hermione? For God's sake…"
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes, Ron, you see, unlike some people, I actually care about my marks and my future." She couldn't believe she'd just spat those nasty words at him, but it felt good to have done so.
Ron chortled sarcastically, looked down at his plate, and was speechless once again. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, storming out of the Great Hall haughtily. As she pushed open the doors with great force, she felt her blood begin to boil and she wished she could've just knocked Ron over the head. She was so blinded by her rage that she wasn't watching where she was going, and as she made her way to the stairs, she ran right into somebody. Somebody rather tall and built; somebody who caused her to fall back onto the floor.
Hermione rubbed her head and followed her eyes up the legs and torso of a black-robed student. Her eyes locked onto the student's breast-patch, which clearly pictured the Slytherin House symbol. She finally gazed upon the student's face, and her voice caught in her throat as she realized it was Draco Malfoy. He gazed down at her with those steely silver eyes, his platinum-blonde hair slicked back perfectly. He didn't offer a hand to help her up, but rather stared at the bushy-haired Gryffindor girl sprawled on the cold, hard stone floor.
Malfoy narrowed his eyes and a smug smirk lit upon his pale face. "Watch where you're going, Mudblood," he spat at her, before continuing on his way to the Great Hall. Hermione continued to rub her head as she turned and snarled at his retreating back. She hissed under her breath and had to fight to keep herself from hexing the Slytherin git. Climbing to her feet, she brushed off her robes and picked up her wand that had fallen out of her robe pocket. Draco Malfoy thought he was such a bloody king---he hadn't changed the least in all their years at Hogwarts. Hermione thought he might've grown up a bit; she had been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But, much to her expectancy, he was still as evil, uncouth, and sinister as ever. Hermione scoffed. What woman could ever find him attractive?
She continued to ascend the stairs, making for the Gryffindor tower to grab her Arithmancy books. As she gave the Fat Lady the new password, ("peckled peppers") and stepped through the hole behind the portrait, she was greeted by Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, who were leaving.
Lavender sniffed when she saw Hermione. "Hel-lo Hermione Granger," she greeted quite coldly.
"Hello," Hermione answered back politely, but with just as much chill.
"You'd better stay away from Ron Weasley, you goody-goody," Lavender scolded under her breath, as Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were nearby. "He's mine, and don't you forget it. Just because you've been friends with him since first year doesn't mean you've laid claim to him."
Hermione looked at Lavender incredulously. "I never said he was mine," Hermione hissed back. "We're just friends, and if you can't handle that, that's just too bad for you, isn't it?"
Lavender gave Hermione a cold glare before brushing past her. Parvati gave Hermione a similar look, though not as cold as Lavender's. Parvati almost seemed pitying of Hermione---her eyes said so. Hermione gave Parvati a half-hearted smile, before rolling her eyes as she briskly strode from the portrait to the stairs to the girls' dormitory. She wasn't really in the mood to talk to anybody right now…she just wanted to study and watch the Quidditch practice in peace.
She ran a brush through her hair as she stared in the mirror that hung beside her bed. She wished she could tame her hair more often, but it took way too much effort and way too much time. Studying took much higher precedence over worrying about her appearance, of course. But sometimes, when she had a moment or two to spare, like now, she pondered her appearance---and moreover, what the lads at Hogwarts thought of her appearance. She blushed, feeling silly. What good did it do to care anyway? She was much too busy for a boyfriend.
"Still…" She whispered under her breath. "…Still…I wonder if they think I'm pretty…"
At this, Hermione chuckled and put the brush back on her nightstand. It was a ruddy waste of time, worrying about such things, but even so, Hermione decided to spritz a bit of perfume on herself---some of the stuff from France that she'd gotten on holiday with her parents. She pulled her hair back with a clip and rubbed her eyes a bit. Sitting in classrooms all day had her looking rather tired and disheveled. She never wore cosmetics, but Ginny Weasley was always telling her how much it would compliment her skin if she wore even a bit of blush or mascara.
Hermione shrugged and smiled at herself in the mirror before filling her book bag with Arithmancy texts. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she descended the girls' dormitory and gave Seamus and Dean a bright smile as she passed. They both smiled back, but quickly reverted to their game of cards. Hermione stepped through the portrait hole and walked hastily to the Quidditch pitch.
TBC