CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: Payback
"What did she say?"
"She said she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it herself, and went on about how she stupid she was because of it. Then she ran off to find some books."
Harry gave a satisfied nod. If Hermione thought the protection spell idea was that important, then it was worth looking into. In any case, it was the first solid lead they had.
"I still don't understand why you couldn't tell her all of that yourself," Ginny said to him.
"You know why."
Ginny sighed. "I hope you realize how ridiculous you two are being. You're making things worse by not speaking each other."
"I'm not not speaking to her. I'm giving her space – that was what she wanted."
"Have you talked to Ron?"
"Tried to, but he didn't want to listen."
"He needs time," Ginny told him.
Harry glanced down at his untouched homework from last night. "How is she?"
"Harry – " She was going to tell him to get off his arse and find out for himself, but she could see how concerned he was for Hermione and did not want to do anything that might jeopardize their friendship further. "She's holding herself together really well – too well, in fact," she told him. "I guess it helps that she has a lot to distract herself with. She needs her best friend more than ever now," she finished, raising a pointed eyebrow at Harry.
Harry didn't miss the look she was sending him. "Then it's a good thing she has you," he acknowledged, standing up and starting to pack up his school things. Ginny tried to engage him in further conversation, but he rebuffed her efforts, and eventually she took the hint and left him alone. He had just enough time to stop by the Great Hall and wolf down some breakfast before class. He hoped that McGonagall wouldn't have a pop quiz planned like she did the last time he neglected to do his homework.
Despite Harry's distracted state of mind, he noticed that many of the students were turning to stare at and whisper until he was halfway to the Gryffindor table. It used to bother him, but it seemed to happen on such a regular basis that he just pretended to ignore it. At least he tried to ignore it, but it was extremely difficult when he joined his house table and saw Lavender and Pavarti giving him nasty looks, while Dean and Seamus stared at him in complete shock. He wasn't even seated yet when a fuming Hermione slammed a copy of the Daily Prophet onto the table in front of him.
The front-page headline read: Boy Who Lived Finds Love at Last with Muggleborn. Underneath was a picture of himself and Hermione sitting close together at the Gryffindor table, while the Harry in the picture kept putting his hand on top of Hermione's over and over again.
"Don't bother reading the article. It made me sick to my stomach," she said, disgusted.
Now he understood why everyone had been staring more than usual. "Who took this picture?" He demanded.
She arched an eyebrow. "You don't know?"
He didn't know what she was getting at until he caught sight of a pale, blond person strolling towards them.
"Congratulations, Potter for finally coming out in the open," Malfoy sneered, and hanging from his left side, Pansy Parkinson snickered. "You shouldn't be ashamed of your mudblood girlfriend."
Harry rolled up the paper and clenched it in one hand. "You did this?"
"You did this all on your own, Potter. I just gave the public an inside view into their favourite celebrity. It's quite a good read," he said, pulling out his own copy.
Even with the teachers sitting only a few feet away, Harry was finding it extremely difficult to come up with reasons as to why he shouldn't land Malfoy in the hospital wing again.
Malfoy cleared his throat and started reading loudly from his paper. "It seems that every witch and wizard's favourite Boy Who Lived has finally found love with childhood friend and muggleborn, Hermione Granger. Sources close to Harry Potter say that his brief stint with Ginny Weasley was just a ploy so that no one would know he was actually in love with Miss Granger. Everyone still remembers their short-lived romance during the Tri-Wizard Tournament three years ago – "
"That's enough!" Hermione grabbed the paper from him and flung it on the ground.
"Hey, I was just getting to the part where Potter's supposed to propose come graduation."
Hermione gave him her most penetrating stare. "You're an evil thing, Malfoy. I hope one day soon you get what's coming to you."
It happened so fast, Malfoy didn't have time to blink as her bare hand came down and smacked him across his face, leaving behind a red welt in the shape of a handprint.
The Gryffindor table erupted into cheers and whistles. Malfoy's face was as priceless as it had been the day Hermione had slapped him back in third year. Colin Creevy took out his camera and photographed Malfoy's humiliated expression for all of eternity.
Hermione didn't feel like joining in on the festivities as the Gryffindors hollered at Malfoy and chased him from the dining hall. She used that distraction to her advantage so she could slip out from the Great Hall. Hitting him had made her feel slightly better but it wouldn't change the fact that every single Hogwarts student could get their hands on that particular copy of the Prophet. She knew without question that Ron had seen it. It would undoubtedly destroy all the work she had done over the passed week to distance herself from Harry and show him there was nothing going on.
Hermione had learned to develop a tough exterior over the years. Being muggleborn, she was often the butt of many jokes and insults courtesy of the Slytherins. Learning to live with it didn't make her immune to it, but she was able to deal with it. But when the front page story of her and Harry became common knowledge, and it was no longer just Slytherins who were whispering behind their hands and casting disgusted looks at her from every corner, she felt about ready to crack. It was only a matter of time before her own House started behaving the same way – if they weren't already doing so.
She refused to look at any and all copies of the Daily Prophet. She only wished every one else would do the same. Not wanting to endure the school's prying eyes on her for the entire lunch period, she had skipped it and went straight to the library to do a bit of studying. She was trying to make it to her Ancient Runes lecture without anyone gawking at her, which had been working right up until the moment when Harry fell into step beside her.
"You missed lunch," he said.
"I wasn't hungry," she responded, feeling particularly snappish.
Harry either didn't get she wanted to be left alone, or was choosing to ignore it.
"I think Ron's starting to come around," he said, his tone hopeful.
"Why? Because he's given up yelling at us and has moved on to ignoring us altogether? You're right, Harry, that's definitely progress."
"I don't know why you're angry with me. I didn't ask for any of this to happen."
"You're right, you didn't. But you don't seem overly concerned about the rumours surrounding us."
"You have to ignore them," he told her. "Something else will come along like it always does, and they'll forget all about us."
"Just because you've lived with people talking behind your back your whole life, doesn't mean that everyone else is comfortable with it," she said shortly. "You didn't have to sit there in Arithmacy and listen to Anna Morris of Ravenclaw tell anyone who will listen about how I've been reaping the benefits that comes with having two guys as best friends. And you're not there when Ron looks at me like I carry the plague. But I'll ignore it because it's all going just blow over, right, Harry?"
"Why are you getting so worked up over something that isn't?"
"Because this something that isn't is costing me my reputation, my boyfriend, and just about everything else that matters."
It sounded selfish really, because Harry had lost a lot too – but for the moment though, Hermione didn't care. She just wanted things to go back to the way they were. She would have even settled for her and Ron just being on speaking terms.
Harry was rapidly losing his cool. "What do you want me to do? You wanted us to stop speaking to each other – and we did – but it hasn't changed anything."
"I want you to stop trying to fix something you can't."
She was suddenly jolted into Harry when someone passing by hit her hard in the arm. She didn't see who it was, but they kept walking without even stopping to apologize.
Rubbing her sore arm, she said. "I don't hate you for what's happening, Harry."
"It sure feels like it," he said bitterly.
"This is both of our faults," she said, slowing her pace because it was becoming very hot in the hallway. "We did – we both made mistakes."
Her balance faltered, but a steadying hand caught her before she could fall.
Harry watched her, his brow furrowed with concern. "Are you feeling okay?" He was still holding on to her arm, which was perspiring heavily.
"It's just hot in here."
She didn't think she was getting sick. She had felt perfectly healthy when she had woken up that morning.
She went to start walking again, but her legs refused to follow her instructions. They folded like jelly beneath her and she collapsed to the floor. Everything was becoming so unfocused. Harry was at her side, screaming at her to tell him what was wrong, but she couldn't answer him. She felt like she was burning up, and was startled to find she was breathing as hard as she could, but very little air was getting into her lungs. She felt someone scooping her up into their arms – and then she knew no more.