((A/N: I know, I know, I KNOW! It's been forever AGAIN. I'm slipping back into my old habit. I'm so sorry you guys, and it seriously will not happen again. I don't care if I don't sleep during the school year, you will have a new chapter each week. Except that I will post chapter seven sooner than a week, hopefully. I know it'd take a few hours to reply to all the reviews, so I will get back to you guys, just not this chapter, since you probably want to read on. Or kill me for not updating. Your choice! Anyhow, if you have any suggestions, comments, questions, whatever, just e-mail me at I check it nearly every day, so there is no way that I will overlook your e-mail! Just give the e-mail a title relating to this fan fic so I'll know to read it straightaway. I'll stop babbling now and let you get on with it. Thanks!))
Chapter Six
You're A Pal And A Confidante
"Ron?!" Hermione nearly screamed, now clutching her heart, apparently trying to slow down her breathing.
"Hermione?!" Ron gasped, also taking large gulps of air to return his heart rate back to normal.
"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked.
"What are you doing here?" Ron replied, not wanting to admit the truth.
"I asked you first." Hermione reminded Ron.
"I asked you first." Ron said a second later. He tried to rack his brain, but nothing came to mind, so he settled on repeating her words.
"Ron, you are such an immature simpleton that I cannot believe I am still acquaintances with you, much lest best friends."
They sat there for a time, Ron scratching his head as he figured this out. Hermione sighed.
"So what were you doing?" Hermione asked, interrupting Ron's thoughts.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Er... homework." Ron answered in what he hoped was an offhand tone.
"Oh." Hermione commented. "Likewise."
"Yeah..." Ron said, drifting back to his thoughts.
"Well, I'm done now. With my homework, I mean." Hermione said, rising.
"Alright. Goodnight, 'Mione." Ron answered, looking up at her and giving her that crooked smile.
"Night." She said, hoping that Ron didn't notice the way her voice shook slightly nervously.
As Hermione left to go back to her dormitory and Ron leaned back into the couch, they both heaved an enormous sigh of relief. Ron did not mention that although Hermione was likely to read ahead, they had no homework yet, and even if they had, she had come down for only a few minutes with no book. Hermione, following Ron's suit, did not comment on the fact that they had no homework yet, and even if they did, Ron would not be caught dead doing it on time, much less ahead of time.
Ron smiled to himself as Hermione disappeared up the girls' staircase. He had fooled her at last.
"And they say I'm slow..." He chuckled to himself. Then he bolted upright. "Wait a minute!" Ron said quietly, his eyes widening. "That was an insult!"
The following morning Ron and Hermione were both down in the common room very early. They didn't look very rested at all; in truth, after Hermione went up to her dormitory (Ron also went up to his about a half an hour later, when he was sure that the rest of his roommates would have fallen asleep again), neither of them went back to sleep. They were both quite caught up in thought about their dreams and then, immediately after, finding each other in the common room. They couldn't help but wonder what the other was doing there. They weren't going to press each other about it, but it made them ponder about what the night's events could have meant.
Ron and Hermione were sitting in the common room, in the armchairs next to the fireplace. Hermione looked to be immersed in a large volume (Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6 - she said that she needed to brush up on her incantations, though everyone knew full and well that she was the person who needed the least brushing up of all. In fact, she could probably do with a bit of dusting up, you know, as in not studying, but she'd never quit it). However, Ron frequently sneaked looks at her out of the corner of his eye. He noted that her eyes were not moving across the page but rather were staring hard in front of her. She wasn't reading, but she was certainly concentrating on something...
Just then, Ron was forcefully brought back to reality when something hit the back of his head. Harry sat down a moment later, smiling. He had his hand over his mouth and he appeared to be attempting to muffle his laughter as his eyes darted from Ron to Hermione.
"Prat." Ron said, giving Harry a glowering look.
"Oh, good morning, Harry," Hermione said, looking up from her book. "Are you hungry? Want a bit of breakfast?"
"Sure," Harry shrugged.
They walked out of the portrait and started down the stairs towards the Great Hall, Harry leading the way. Hermione and Ron were quiet most of the way, until...
"Well, well, well." Drawled a voice coming from the left as they approached the bottom of the stairs.
The trio immediately turned their heads sharply to face Malfoy. He was smirking at them, an evil glint in his eyes. Crabbe and Goyle followed behind him, as always, looking like bodyguards.
"Ugh, what a delightfully disgusting sight. Potty, Weasel, and the ever sickening Mudblood. Haven't you done everyone the favor and thrown yourself off bridges yet?" Malfoy droned. "You know, though, you three could make one pathetic triple threat. First vomit at the sight of the Mudblood, and then the Weasel makes--"
"Shut up, Malfoy." Harry cut in tensely. "Bugger off today, I really don't need your shi--"
"Look!" Ron said, pointing his arm upwards and waving it wildly, somewhere to Malfoy's left. "A diversion!"
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle all looked up to where Ron was pointing. However, a second later, Malfoy registered what Ron had said and flushed at the thought that he had actually looked. He turned to reply nastily to Ron's little joke, but looked to find that they were entering the Great Hall, chuckling heartily. He turned back to his cronies and slapped them on the back of the head, for they were still caught up in searching for where the diversion was.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione sauntered over to the Gryffindor table and seated themselves. Harry sat on one side of the table, Ron and Hermione on the other. Ron noted that the post hadn't arrived yet as he looked up at the ceiling of the Great Hall. Today it was raining harder than the day before. The sky was heavily overcast and as he looked up, he recieved a shock; several bolts of lightning were reigning down upon the earth below. Ron sighed; his stomach was slightly uncomfortable and he felt an odd foreboding within him. About what, he did not know, but he could not shake the feeling that today was not going to go properly.
Hermione picked up the pitcher of pumpkin juice and poured herself a glass. Her eyes wandered over the table idly as she chose what to eat for breakfast. She selected a few pieces of bacon and chewed them slowly.
A few moments later the post arrived. A tawny owl swooped down low, narrowly avoiding a large platter of kippers nearby, and skidded to a half in front of Hermione. She laily took the paper from the owl and deposited a bronze knut in a brown satchel. The owl flew away and Hermione spread the paper across the table in front of her, as was customary each morning for the past couple years.
As Hermione was just getting ready to read the morning post, she got a sharp pain in between her neck and her right shoulder. She gasped and rubbed the spot quickly to ease the pain. The pain lessened but still annoyed her somewhat. Hermione stretched and then lifted her hand to her mouth as she yawned widely. I've got to try to stop thinking about him and concentrate on gettng more sleep. I know I'll have plenty of time to sleep when I'm dead but this is getting ridiculous. I must have gotten two hour's sleep last night at best...
Hermione yawned again, just a small one this time, and realized that she hadn't eaten much. Her eyes scanned the table once more and she reached for a piece of toast.
However, just as Hermione reached for a piece of toast, Ron's eyes lingered on the same piece and his hand lurched hungrily forward. At the same moment their hands closed over the bread, and, more importantly, each other's hand. Hermione gasped and Ron's jaw dropped. They sat there for a moment before either spoke.
"Sorry!" Ron said.
"Oh, no, you have it." Hermione replied, about to retract her hand.
"Er, nope, don't want it, here--" Ron urged.
Ron tried to push the toast further into Hermione's grasp but moaned as his elbow knocked into the salt shaker. The salt shaker tipped over and, as it fell, the lid toppled off. As the shaker hit the table, salt spilled everywhere, including Ron's lap.
Hermione gasped again and moved her hand down to Ron's leg to try sweep off some of the salt crystals, and Ron blushed so quickly that he was sure it was a world record.
She's touching me. She's touching me. Her hand is on my leg. That. Means. That. She. Is. Touching. Me. Oh my God. Her. Her. Her-- Hermione's touching me. Ron thought frantically.
Have you ever been extremely happy but extremely nervous and jumpy? Ron became like this to such an extremity that his arm gave an enormous spasm and bumped into... what else? Nothing other than Hermione's nearly full glass of pumpkin juice.
Ron mouthed wordlessly as what happened next seemed to occur in slow motion. Ron's attention jerked from Hermione's hand to the glass he had just collided with. His eyes widened and he gulped as he seemed to watch helplessly. Her cup rocked back and forth briefly, before making up its mind - for the worse, of course. The cup gleamed in the light given off by the floating candles as it decided which way to tip -- Obviously toward Hermione; it was just Ron's luck. He shook his head as he watched the glass get nearer and nearer to tipping completely over. At this time, Hermione lifted her hand off of Ron's pant leg and looked over towards the table. As she did so, things seemed to speed up and the glass proceeded in crashing on to the table. The cup hit the table with force and the liquid inside spurred out of the cup. It stained the formerly clean tablecloth horribly in an instant, but it did not stop there. When the cup had hit the table cloth the pumpkin juice had been propelled forward... directly on to Hermione's shirt.
Hermione shrieked as the chilled juice splattered all over the front of her shirt. Ron gave a small squeak as he flinched. He looked over at Hermione and seemed to gain control of his reflexes.
"Oh, Hermione, sorry!" He said hoarsely.
Hermione merely gaped at what had just happened before raising her hands to her shirt where it was stained and began waving her hands to try to dry off the cloth. Ron stuttered for a few moments before grabbing a napkin and, trying his best to help, turned the still shocked Hermione to face him. Bending his head down slightly, he bit his lip as he dabbed quickly at the fabric, trying to get a bit of the pumpkin juice out. However, he continued slower and slower as he came to a realization...
He realized several things in quick succession. First, his face was awfully close to Hermione's shirt. Second, the juice was on a part of her shirt that was pretty high up in a ... Well, let's say an area of ... a more sensitive nature. And third, Hermione was wearing a white blouse. Quite a bit of pumpkin juice had spilled onto this blouse and it just so happens that white clothing adapts a certain quality when it becomes wet.
Hermione seemed to notice this fact at the same time as Ron and, shocked, she leaned so far away from him that she almost fell backwards to the floor. Once she regained her balance, she searched around, her eyes wide. Her gaze fell upon her Daily Prophet and she snatched it up. She held the newspaper to her shirt as she scrambled to stand up. She grabbed her bag and turned to Harry and Ron.
"Er ... Got to go!" She said raspily, shaking.
Hermione started to run towards the door and as she did so, passed Professor McGonagall, who looked at her with a confused expression on her face.
"Miss Granger, what are you--"
"Sorry, got to go, professor!" Hermione said breathlessly, grabbing her schedule out of McGonagall's grasp.
A few students laughed as Hermione exited the Great Hall, almost slipping several times. However, Ron said nothing; he merely looked down at his plate as he turned a severely bright shade of red. He heard a noise nearby and looked up; Harry was fighting the urge to laugh like mad and was failing more with each passing moment.
"Oh, sod off, Harry!" Ron shot Harry the dirtiest look he could muster.
Harry grinned and was about to reply when Professor McGonagall walked by; interrupting their conversation, she handed them their schedules. Harry glanced at his schedule and sighed.
"We've got Transfiguration first off." He announced. "Still, not the worst class to have to start off with..."
Ron shrugged, not much caring for talking at the moment. He slipped his schedule into his bag without looking at it more than a few seconds. Harry followed suit.
"I suppose we'd better get going to class, we don't want to be late our very first day. After all, we have been going to her same classroom for five years. We should be able to manage, despite the 182 staircases, trick doors, and Peeves..."
Hermione ran out of the Great Hall as quickly as she could. She got a stitch in her side (she wasn't much used to running at all) but continued on nonetheless. Up the staircase directly outside the Great Hall, around the corner, up another staircase (where she painfully tripped) and all along the corridor until she reached the Prefect's Bathroom.
"Wintergreen," Hermione whispered to the door as she stopped quickly in front of the door she needed. The door opened and she stepped inside. She walked across the gleaming marble floor and stopped in front of a large mirror that hung on the wall. Here she bent down and grasped her knees as she tried to catch her breath. When she had succeeded, she stood upright and brushed some fallen strands of hair away from her face. Her face, which had been tinged a delicate pink, was returning back to its normal color.
Hermione bit her lip as she examined her shirt. First day of term and Ron sees your bra. Bloody brilliant, Hermione. She sighed, and then laughed as she realized that she had picked up saying 'bloody' from Ron. She really did have to stop clinging on to every word he spoke; she was starting to store his vocabulary. She shook her head slightly to get Ron out of her head for the umpteenth time and concentrated at the task at hand. She pointed her wand to herself and muttered and incantation. Her shirt was restored immediately. Hermione had learned this spell this past summer when she read about it in yet another book. She would have never bothered with it before, but the fact that she was completely head over heels for Ron had instilled a bit of vanity in her. Well, a lot of vanity.
A few minutes later Hermione stepped out of the Prefect's Bathroom. She had regained her composure; she had disposed of her newspaper, brushed her hair and she was walking coolly as opposed to running with vigor. She noticed with a start that breakfast was nearly over and decided to head towards her first class, Transfiguration.
When she reached the classroom she was surprised to see that, with only a few minutes left until class began, the room was not filled; in fact, it was only about half full. Then Hermione realized that as sixth year students, they were no longer required to take all their usual standard courses, rather couses that would be required for their future career. Although Transfiguration was required for many occupations, there were still some that would not put this subject into use. Therefore, the class size was bound to be smaller. Looking across the room, Hermione spotted three spare seats next to each other, three rows from the front. She walked over to the chair furthest to the left and sat down. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out some parchment, a quill, and some ink. She took out her charms book to do some more reading (as she hadn't read any of the book for several days; earlier in the common room she couldn't concentrate on her reading, because her thoughts kept drifting back to her most recent dream). However, she had only a minute or so to read, for then she was interrupted by the entrance of Harry and Ron.
Harry and Ron walked in with two minutes to spare before class was due to start. Harry looked about the room but didn't have to search far; there was Hermione, sitting three rows back from the front, supplies out and her nose in a book, as usual. He walked over to her and Ron, taking a large gulp of air (he had suddenly noticed that as soon as he had walked into the classroom (he had spotted Hermione right away, whereas it took Harry a moment to see her, so he was looking at her for a few seconds), he had been holding his breath. Lately he had noticed that he was quite prone to forgetting to breathe around Hermione. He willed his legs to move (they seemed to all of a sudden attain the qualities of jelly) and he neared Hermione with a few shaky steps. Harry sat two seats down to the right of Hermione, leaving one seat open. He looked up at Ron as he approached him (for he had been a few steps behind Harry in reaching their seats) with an innocent grin, which Ron knew was concealing wicked thoughts. Ron gave Harry the most furious face he could manage while still being able to hide the look from Hermione. Harry raised an eyebrow and pointed to the vacant seat, still grinning. Ron pulled out the chair and sat down, eyes still boring into Harry's, hating him.
At that moment, however, Ron was forced to look forward as opposed to sideways at Harry when their instructor, Professor McGonagall, strode into the classroom. As she shut the door, the little talking that had been going on ceased immediately. Professor McGonagall was not mean, but strict, and she had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.
"Good morning, class." Professor McGonagall greeted her pupils.
"Good morning, Professor McGonagall." Students' voices rang out in reply.
"You have all entered this class this year after recieving an E or better on your O.W.L.s at the end of last term. You are taking this course because your future careers will require you knowing Transfiguration; how well you perform in these careers will reflect your aptitude for this subject. So, I expect to see you all studying hard this year. I will not accept late homework or excuses of any sort. You are to be on time every day you have this class. Should you fail to meet these requirements, there will be serious consequences." McGonagall explained; her eyes flashed at the end of this little speech and Ron gulped.
McGonagall had them take down a series of complicated notes before setting them to work on their newest challenge: To turn a piglet into a piggy bank. The trio didn't talk much as McGonagall swept around the classroom critiquing the students' work and answering questions; this spell was difficult enough without the distraction of conversation.
Hermione was quite obviously the first person to succeed, she had gotten the spell down in the first five minutes of practicing. McGonagall flashed her a quick smile, awarded Gryffindor ten points, and moved on to Seamus, whose spell had gone awry. His piglet had taken on the shape of an armadillo and smoke was emitting from it, and no one could seem to figure out how he had transfigured his piglet into this.
Ron was becoming more and more frustrated by the moment. He couldn't understand why his piglet wasn't changing; at the moment, it was yawning, apparently bored. As it plopped on to the desk and lowered its eyelids, Ron attempted to force himself to do the spell correctly. All he could manage to think about was how brilliant Hermione was. Everyone knew this of course, but he marveled in that thought constantly. She had beauty, brains... He had... Erm... He had... Not her.
Ron's self esteem dropped even lower as he realized that he had nothing to offer Hermione. He could never go on a date with her, she's probably want to study or do homework.
As he pondered these depressing thoughts, he waved his wand around lazily. He sighed and turned half his concentration to the spell he was supposed to be working on. He muttered the incantation...
His wand movement was off a bit and his words were slurred. And in the next few moments, Ron sympathized with Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest -- he had only mixed up a few letters and his spell was seriously screwed up.
There was a flash of violet light and a pop! as his piglet hardened into porcelain... Well, almost. See, the spell sort of worked, but there was no slot in the back and the tail continued to whip around wildly. The the half piglet, half piggy bank's legs started up, but not before a retching sound was heard, followed by a long steady stream of coins spurred out of the thing's mouth. It was a continuous stream, as the mouth had hardened in an open position. The deformed creature ran all across the desks, spewing coins, which turned out to be not even real money, but scraps of rounded metal. Ron couldn't get a break! And worse still, before McGonagall could aprehend Ron's spell gone awry, a series of coins hit Hermione painfully in the forehead, causing her to shriek.
Of course, Ron didn't see this. He had to be filled in later, because as soon as the mutation had happened, he had buried his head in his hands and waited until the havoc ceased, which proved to be awhile as the students were rather riled up after the incident. Harry gleefully told Ron everything that had happened as they walked out to break. It was almost over but Harry managed to get in all the "good details" before they had to go to their next lesson. Ron turned a steady shade of crimson as he learned that in addition to humiliating himself in front of everyone (most importantly Hermione) and getting loads of extra homework from McGonagall, Hermione had gone to the Hospital Wing in the last few minutes of class. Her forehead had been bruised and she had a small headache. Although it was a miniscule injury, this new information made Ron feel ten times worse than when he got all that extra work.
Dinner that night was a quiet affair. Ron ate his steak and kidney pie without comment and Hermione hardly ate at all; she used this time instead to read Hogwarts, A History for the umpteenth time. She had expected Ron to make a remark about her reading it again; after all, she had nearly memorized it by now so often it was that she read it. However, she followed suit in his silence. Hermione had gone to the Hospital Wing early that day and she now looked fine, but every now and then the spot on her forehead where she had been bombarded with coins twinged. She supposed it was phantom pain, however. She had been dwelling over that morning's events.
The trio finished their dinner quickly (at least Hermione and Ron did; Harry complained that he hadn't finished with his pie while Ron dragged him out of the Great Hall). They trudged up to their common room again without much conversation, although Harry did try to start up a conversation about patio furniture. They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry gave the password, and they entered the common room, which was nearly empty. The trio made their way over to the best squashy arm chairs by the fire and three thuds were heard and they all plopped down into them. They chatted quietly for a few minutes before Harry voiced that he wanted to go to bed; however he backed down after a fierce glare from Hermione.
"Alright, alright, I'll get on it." Harry mumbled.
They spent the next half an hour in silence, save for the sound of crumpling parchment, turning pages, and scribbling quills. Then, as Ron let out an aggravated sigh, he looked up and saw Hermione sitting in the chair across from him and he was automatically entranced.
The scene wasn't anything special, yet it was marvelous to him. Her chin was tilted downwards, resting on her chest ever so slightly. A bit of her hair shielded her face partially, but he could still see her through the strands. Her breathing was light and even and she was ... laughing? No, that wasn't right. But he heard someone snickering. Ron cast around the room, looking for the source of the disturbance. His eyes landed on Harry.
"Shut up, Harry." Ron warned him.
"What do you mean, shut up? I wasn't saying anything." Harry replied.
"But you were thinking--" Ron started.
"Oh, you know what I'm thinking, do you?" Harry asked with a smirk. "I never knew you to be a skilled Legitimens, Ron."
"You know what I mean!" Ron said angrily.
"Nope, sorry mate, I'm afraid I don't. Care to elaborate?" Harry asked innocently.
Their conversation must have been a bit too loud, because a moment later they heard a curious voice.
"What are you two talking about?" Hermione asked.
"Hermione, you're awake! I mean we were just saying ... talking about ... say, er, Harry, I'm beat. How about you?" Ron said with a very unconvincing yawn.
"Actually, Ron, it's only nine o'clock, and I'm really not -- OW!" Harry yelled the last word as Ron's foot collided with Harry's shin. Several people stared. "I mean yes, Ron, I'm oh so tired. I should head to bed. would you care to accompany me?" Harry said in a dull voice.
"Oh, how thoughtful of you to ask. Yes, I believe I will, don't want you to get lost." Ron said, smiling nervously as he looked at Hermione out of the corner of his eye.
They gathered their things, Ron looking much more in a hurry than Harry. Once they had finished, Harry turned to say good night to Hermione, but he only managed to get out "Goo--" before Ron grabbed him by the neck of his robes and started dragging him up the steps toward their dormitory.
"Need a full eight hours of rest!" Ron shouted over his shoulder as he climbed the steps.
Ron maintained his steady hold on Harry all the way up to their dormitory. When he let go, Harry started right in.
"Ron! What the --" He began.
"Harry, I need to talk to you." Ron interrupted. He looked really serious, so Harry let his anger go and nodded for Ron to continue. "This is really big. You need to sit down."
"Er... Okay..." Harry replied, confused. He sat down on his bed and Ron sat on his.
"Um, okay, this is really big. And really... mind blowing, and hard to explain, and --" Ron started, taking large breaths of air.
"Ron? Get on with it." Harry urged.
"Huh? Oh, right. Okay... um... I like Hermione."
A long silence followed these words, as both boys were waiting. Ron was waiting for Harry's reply; Harry was waiting for Ron to continue.
"And?" Harry asked Ron.
"And I like Hermione." Ron replied.
"... And?" Harry was getting more and more confused.
"And I really like her!" Ron was becoming frustrated.
"Well duh. But what else? I thought this was serious." Harry said.
"What?! This is big news! It is serious!" Ron burst out, waving his arms wildly. "Big! Huge! Er, mountainous, gigantic, humongous, and all those other big words!"
"Sorry to rain on your freakout parade, Ron, but this isn't news. Not new news, anyhow." Harry told Ron, shaking his head.
"You... you knew?" Ron asked, utterly bewildered.
"My God, you're thick. Of course we know." Harry rolled his eyes. How could his friend be this oblivious?
"We? We?? WE??? Hold it, more people know? Who told you? Who did you tell?" Ron was in a state or raging awe.
"Ron, no one tole me and I didn't tell anyone. No one has to be btold. It is so painfully obvious." Harry explained.
They sat in silence for a time. then Ron voiced his newest worry.
"Does Hermione know?" He asked weakly.
"She's brilliant at school but seeing how blind she is to the fact that you like her... you'd think she had a negative IQ." Harry related, shaking his head.
Ron sighed heavily. "What'll I do?"
Harry shrugged. "Donno. Tell her."
"I couldn't do that!" Ron moaned. "How do you tell someone that you love them? Just waltz over and --"
"Woah." Harry said. "You LOVE her?"
"Well... yeah." Ron said. He had assumed this should have been evident to Harry, since he had said Ron's affections were painfully obvious.
"We're sixteen!" Harry said.
"Sixteen years, six months, and one day." Ron corrected him.
"We're too young to love." Harry replied.
"No. I don't believe that. I couldn't like her any more than I do now." Ron insisted firmly.
"Ew." Harry stated simply. With that, he began to get ready for bed.
"But what do I do?" Ron called to Harry as his friend plopped down and got under his covers.
"Tell her!" Harry called back. "And then forget we ever had this conversation -- Ugh, loving Hermione? Like, loving her that way? Gross."
"Some pal." Ron mumbled, rolling his eyes as he, too, changed.
After Harry and Ron retired, Hermione opened her copy of Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6 and got started on the essay McGonagall had assigned them for Transfiguration. She didn't make much progress, however; she was having an extremely hard time concentration. Thankfully just as she was about to give up all hope on everthing, the very person she thought might be able to help her walked through the portrait hole.
"Ginny!" Hermione called happily, waving her friend over.
"Hey, Hermione." Ginny smiled. "What do you need?"
"Erm... I need to talk to you." Hermione said.
"Okay, sure thing." Ginny replied.
"Can we go somewhere a little more private? LIke your dormitory? Only I know Parvati and Lavender are already in my dormitory and this is kind of a sensitive issue... and they're... them."
Ginny nodded and they made their way up to the fifth year dormitories.
"What's up?" Ginny asked as soon as they had reached the safety of Ginny's dorm.
"Ginny, I consider you one of my best friends in the world, and most definitely my best girl friend. I really need your advice on something. I can't tell anyone else." Hermione revealed to Ginny solemnly.
"Thanks, Hermione." Ginny said, beaming. "That really means a lot to me. What did you need to talk to me about?
Hermione bit her lip. She wanted to tell Ginny, really, she did, but she didn't know where to start. She knew Ginny might freak out at this news; after all, it was her brother, and this was MAJOR. She knew Ginny had experience with boys and that she gave great adviece... but this wa a secret! Nobody knew about it yet and... Ugh, Hermione, stop it. Just tell her! Hermione ordered herself.
"Ginny... I like Ron." Hermione said, attempting to breace herself for her friend's outburst.
"Okay." Ginny said.
"Like, I really like him. As in more than a friend." Hermione thought Ginny might not understand in which way she liked Ron, so she tried to clarify things a bit.
"That's a given." Ginny stated.
"And I know tha -- what?" Hermione stopped midsentence.
"Well, a 'given' is where --" Ginny began to explain.
"No, I know what a given is. You -- you know that I like Ron?" Hermione managed to get out.
"Doid." Ginny said, now examining her fingernails, looking as if they were far more interseting than Hermione's 'huge news.'
Hermione thought she was quite likely to start hyperventilating.
"That's funny," Hermione squeaked, "my hearing must be severely substandard. I thought for a second you said you knew about me liking Ron."
"'Mione, I don't know why you're freaking out; it's not like it's some big secret or anything." Ginny said calmly.
"Yes it is!" Hermione shrieked shirlly.
"Oh... Erm, you're really bad at keeping secrets." Ginny informed her friend.
Hermione was right: she did start hyperventilatiing. Ginny's eyes widened as she watched Hermione get more worked up than ever before, even more than in Hermione's year (Ginny's second), when she encountered a boggart during a Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. She would not defeat the boggart when it assumed the form of her worst fear: the fear of failing. After several moments Hermione calmed down enough for Ginny to get her to talk.
"Hermione, it's really no big." Ginny assured her.
"No big deal? NO BIG DEAL?" Hermione said, still extremely out of order. "Ginny, you just said Ron knows how I feel!"
Ginny couldn't help it; she gave a loud cry of laughter at this statement.
"Hermione, when I said 'people know,' I meant people with a higher IQ than that of a twig. I should have specified, but I mean, come on; you could probably have Dumbledore announce it to the entire school and he'd still be clueless."
"Oh... So you don't think he knows?" Hermione said, her worry ebbing away slightly.
"I don't think -- I KNOW he doesn't know." Ginny assured her.
"Oh." Hermione said faintly.
A full two minutes passed without anything being said. Hermione stared off into space and Ginny sat there fingering a hole in her sock. Hermione was only brought back to reality after a long yawn from Ginny. She gave her head a little shake and turned to Ginny. Hermione was biting her lip and her eyes were slightly glossy.
"So what do I do?" whimpered Hermione.
"What do you mean, what do you do? I thought your problem was solved. You wanted to know if he knew that you liked him." Ginny replied.
"No, I didn't! I mean, I did, but that doesn't solve my problems! I need to know if I should tell him or not." Hermione wailed.
"What do you mean? It's simple, you have to tell him yourself." Ginny said, quite matter-of-factly, despite the fact that this decision could majorly alter the course of Hermione's life.
"Ginny, you know I can't do that." Hermione said.
"Why not?" Ginny asked. "It's either that, or keep your emotions to yourself for like -- ever."
Hermione bit her lip, considering this. She couldn't do that! Especially with the hard workload she was expecting this year... There was only one choice.
"Alright," Hermione resolved. "I'll do it."
"Great..." Ginny said, without much enthusiasm.
"Thanks, Gin, I really needed someone to talk that over with. You're such a great confidante."
