Official Information
Title: The Extreme

Author: Enchanted Ink

Disclaimer: Harry Potter indica is the property of J. K. Rowling and the Warner Bros. Association; NOT ME :(
Summary: H. A. Granger is in love- with the youngest male Weasley. There is one problem. Ron is no longer an innocent, awkward boy, and she has come to the conclusion that he is after another girl... Her enemy is a master in the art of relationships, and she will do anything for his council.
Rating: PG-13 for possible:
-Language
-Sexual Content
-Violence
-Drugs &/or Alcohol
Extra Info.: Words in italic indicate thought or emphasis on the given term.
A/N: I'm so sorry... My muse has been mal-functioning, and I REALLY hope that you like this chapter. I would like to thank these people for reviewing, too!
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I LOVE YOU! Thank you.

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5
A large, circular room with an elaborate fireplace, comfortable armchairs, and solid mahogany desks made up the Common Room of the Head Tower. Hermione found great comfort in this tower, and the homely, quaintness it posessed.
She found comfort in her personal master bathroom, with its cold marble floors, crystal taps, and dim lighting. She found comfort in the balcony, which, with its iron railing was designed with curvy roses. She found comfort in her bedroom, which was more impressive than anything she had laid eyes on before. She didn't find comfort in one aspect of her new quarters, however:
Ron. Ron. Who was he? Not the young, gangly boy he had been in first year, surely. And second, and third and fourth... Ron was a stranger.
He didn't speak to her on a regular basis. Instead, he exchanged brief phrases that were used mostly to be polite.
He didn't spend much time in their Common Room. Instead, he came through the entrance, gave a nod of recognition, and went straight to his room.
He didn't sit with her and Harry that much at meals. Instead, his seemingly new company was Seamus, Neville, and Dean, who shared his new obsession: women, obviously.
What had been important to him now was not- owling his brothers, all of whom were out of Hogwarts, playing matches of Wizarding Chess with anyone and everyone, and the small devotion to his work; it had disappeared.
It was a miracle, him becoming the Head Boy. What irked Hermione the most was that, although Ron didn't speak as frequently to Harry anymore, he spoke to him more than he spoke to her. Although Hermione was not particularly fond of this bizarre change of behavior, she was driven to learn about the new Ron. He was foreign, and in a strange sense this excited her.
On a particularly miserable day in September, Hermione sat at a window seat, watching the rain splatter against the window. Her body was still, but her thoughts were racing. She was replaying her first lesson with Malfoy, and how she was still humiliated over the fact that she had gotten so caught up in the moment that she had believed Malfoy was Ron.
He had laughed.
Hermione had never heard him actually laugh before- it sounded rusty, as if he hadn't done it in quite some time. Hermione would've enjoyed it, in fact, if he hadn't been laughing at her, but with her.
She hadn't laughed.
There was nothing humorous about getting caught in the moment with Malfoy. She remembered how blown out of the water she'd been when she had found brown eyes. After she had untangled her hands, his blonde hair had been mussed. Recalling his expression, he had, surprising, not been angry.
There was one detail, one minuscule detail, that still puzzled her. She couldn't believe the irony of it.

I felt comfortable... With Malfoy. How is this possible when I can't even feel comfortable with Ron? It was a mystery she was not sure she would ever solve.
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History of Magic, the only class taught by a ghost, Professor Bins, was also the only class that could make an entire class of pupils fall asleep in less than sixty seconds. Most unknowing first year students didn't know how gory goblin rebellions could be boring until they sat through five minutes, and it was a struggle even for Hermione to keep her yawns polite and silent.
Professor Bins was tougher than nails.
Not only did he make learning a totally repulsive experience, but his exams were perhaps the most difficult out of all Hogwarts curriculum.
Hermione had already finished the test, but other students were still scribbling fantically, quills sliding across smooth pieces of parchment. She kept on glancing over, trying not to stare.
In all of Hermione's years at the magical school, Ron never gave up on pleading with his female friend to cheat. Due to the fact that he hadn't been hanging out with her, she was surprised when he leaned over and whispered quickly and quietly in her ear. As his smooth voice shattered her silence, she jumped in surprise but thankfully managed not to scream.
"Hermione?" he sounded uncertain.
I shouldn't cheat. I never have. But, this is different... Kind of. I mean, I've done some stuff before, I'm not a perfectionist. Okay... I am. I don't want to be. I can prove I'm not. Then maybe Ron will see I'm changing. I'll help him... Just this once. What harm can it do?
"What's number fourteen?" He licked his lips and looked over at Binns, who was looking in the other direction as he glided back and forth, hovering a few feet above the floor. Hermione slid her paper towards the side of her desk. His eyes widened for a brief moment, looking at her as if she were a puzzle. Hermione couldn't help but feel flattered.
I guess I like to be noticed. And then time froze. Her desk made the loudest noise: SCREEEEEEEEEECH!
Her cover was blown as the teacher snapped to attention with an alert glare. "Miss Granger! WHAT ON EARTH? Of all students... I thought that you..." He wouldn't stop shaking his head. "Cheating! Her!" He was rambling to himself.
He finally came to a proper punishment as several others stared at her in the same awe, the same admiration in their glazed faces that she had just seen from Ron. Although she had just recieved a detention, herself, Hermione Granger, the most rule-abiding witch in the school, she was thrilled.
Ecstatic, even... Because she was serving her detention with Ron.
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Dinner that night tasted extremely tasty to Hermione, although she ate healthy with salad and chicken. Perhaps she was a fool to get excited about cleaning classrooms that were never used, but she and Ron could be a team. Maybe she could even coax him into a conversation.
Heaven only knows what pathetic things I'll say. Oh well. I'll owl Malfoy and tell him what Binns is making me do. I'll have to get my lesson postponed.
She didn't have to owl Malfoy, however, because an opportunity arose to speak to him directly after her meal in the Great Hall. He came to her. She was walking along a corridor, on the fifth floor.

"Granger!" he hissed, and she stopped in her steps as he caught up to her. "What about your lesson?" Hermione cast a nervous eye over his shoulder, and behind her own.
"Perhaps we should discuss this someplace more private." He nodded his agreement and bobbed his head in the direction of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. There was still an out of order on the strong door, and she suspected there always would be. You never knew when a student like Harry would come along, even if an event like that was extremely unlikely.
She pushed her way into the girl's lavatory and walked over to the sinks, where she leaned against the cold porcelin. Malfoy stood, almost uneasily, by the entrance. That's when she realized the ghost of the dead girl, Myrtle, was floating by a stall door.
Hermione smiled. She hadn't spoken the ghost for ages, and what shocked her was the fact that Moaning Myrtle wasn't crying, sobbing, or moaning, even. Looking back at Malfoy's face, she almost laughed. "Oooooh! You brought a boy with you Hermione! If a teacher finds you, you're going to get it."
"This is Malfoy. Malfoy, this is Myrtle. We were just going to chat."
"Yeah, sure." The ghost smiled lazily at Malfoy. "Hello, Draco!" she sang, giggling at the fact that she had just rymed and he was a male. Then she turned her attention back to Hermione.
"Guess what! I got a visitor yesterday!" Hermione knew immediately who it was.
Ginny still frequently visited the bathroom that haunted all of their pasts, something Malfoy knew nothing about. She gave her the best glare she could manage, but the girl still didn't get the message. She took a step closer to her companion, ready to usher him out. But it was too late. With the next words she spoke, Malfoy was looking quite intrigued.
"Would you believe that after all of these years, she still didn't know about the Polyjuice potion? You know, the one that turned you into a cat?" Hermione could've died. Not only was the tale humiliating, but they had used the substance to spy on Malfoy, to see if he was the heir of Slytherin.
Still, the ghost girl ranted...
"I remember that charming young man, Harry. I hear he hasn't died yet, what a pity. Don't you remember? I told him he could share a toilet with me. I don't like to go into the stall you were transformed in, 'cause of your eyes. Those big, yellow eyes, just like the basilisks..."
That was it. The final straw. Enough. Just as she was about to whip out her wand and issue a spell, Moaning Myrtle made her last statement.
"I must be off, now! Didn't I tell you? Sir Nick finally got into the Headless Hunt, or whatever... He's performing tonight! Bye Hermione. Bye, Draco!"
An audible splash was heard as she dove into a toilet.
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Draco Malfoy could not stop staring at his unlikely companion. She was stunning, suddenly.
A Polyjuice Potion? Transformations? The Chamber of Secrets? She seems so... so boring, he thought. But apparently not. I remember her being awarded house points in first year, something to do with... Well, I don't know. I wish she would tell me.
They were in the Hogwarts kitchen, and he grasped a mug of steaming tea in his palms as Hermione took a small sip out of her own from across the table.
As she looked up, she saw questions in his face, and sighed.
With this sigh, he could've smiled... Because he knew he was about to recieve answers.
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