Disclaimer: Same . . . why do I bother . . . ?
Twenty
What if one night, I laid my head on my pillow – the same pillow that smelled of Crookshanks' fur and was scratchy like a cactus – and woke up on something that smelled fruity, like my hair after just having taken a shower, and was soft as cashmere against my cheek? What if I disappeared under my blanket after a long day's work, a day where I wanted everything to go away, only to emerge from it and find that the world had transformed around me? What if one night, my entire life had changed?
Sometimes, I did wish that. Sometimes, I would lie in bed and listen to Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle sniggering in the next room over and rethink the entire year. Had I been right in beginning Operation Jealousy? Did Draco really like me? Did everyone think I was a slut, a whore, a prostitute at Hogwarts? Did I even know who I was anymore?
And I'd answer myself, "Of course you know who you are. You're Hermione Granger. You're beautiful, smart, strong, and every guy in the school is in love with you. Ron is included in that everyone, and someday, maybe this living hell will pay off."
The night I found out was one of those nights.
"Looks like we'll have to make our rounds separately tonight, doll," Draco said, reading through the schedule.
"Oh, that's alright, I'll just meet you here at midnight. Does that sound good?" I asked nonchalantly.
Draco looked at me nervously and stammered, "M-midnight? D-don't you think that's a little l-late?"
"If it is, it sure didn't stop you this weekend at three o'clock," I said airily, remembering our fight the past weekend which I was sure had ended Operation Jealousy.
"Well, erm, why midnight? I'll be so tired – in fact, I'll probably be asleep by the time you get back," he stuttered. "Yeah, I bet I will . . . don't even bother to wake me. I'm so tired."
"Alright then . . . I'll talk to you tomorrow," I said. I should have known then and there. I should have known that something was wrong just by the way he talked to me – the way he stammered, the way his voice sounded nervous and unsure. But for once in my life, I had lost the ability to read between the lines.
I came back from my rounds a little bit after midnight and got into my pajamas – a pair of blue plaid flannel pants and a blue cami – braided my hair, and decided to pop in and see how Draco was. After all, he was adorable when he slept.
Slowly, I opened the door to his bedroom and peeked inside. A lump, covered by blankets, lay on the bed. I smiled to myself as I walked over to the lump. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I peeled back the covers . . . only to find a pile of pillows where Draco was supposed to lie.
The truth hit me like a ton of bricks and knocked me off my feet. In that instant, I knew what had happened – why he had stammered, why he pretended to be asleep. I didn't know why, but my heart stopped beating. I knew exactly what to do.
"Wendolyn the Weird," I recited hurriedly to the Fat Lady, who was asleep in her portrait.
"Still awake at this hour?" she asked, opening the portrait to me. I ignored her and sped through the hole.
The second I entered the Common Room, Ron appeared. "Where have you been? I've been looking for you all night!"
"Y-you have?" I asked, blushing. But then I remembered my mission and said boldly, "Where's the Map?"
Ron looked at me quizzically and said, "What map?"
"The Marauder's Map! Where is the Marauder's Map?" I cried. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Harry descended the stairs to the Boy's Dormitory in that second.
"Harry!" I shouted, running to him. I started taking off his bathrobe.
"Hermione? What the bloody hell are you doing?" Ron asked, concern in his voice. "Why are you stripping him?"
"Shut up, Ron," I snapped. I rummaged through the pockets of the robe until my hands closed around something. The two boys exchanged looks. I took out the piece of parchment and opened it.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," I recited. As names and dots began appearing, I muttered, "Come on, quickly, quickly! Where's Malfoy? Where's Draco Malfoy?"
Ron's eyes widened at those words. He sprang over to me and tried to take the map, but I slapped his hand away.
"Hermione, you can't see that!" he cried.
"Stop it Ron, just stop! I need to see this!"
"B-but Hermione –"
He stopped in mid-sentence, because I had clamped my hand over his mouth. "For once in your life, Ronald Weasley, it would be best if you just shut up and didn't butt into other people's business! Personally, I don't care whether or not you want me to look at the map, because no matter what you say, I'm looking anyways!"
And I took my hand off his mouth. He didn't even wipe it off like he usually would have done because he was so stunned. And so was I. Because in that moment, we both saw a small dot labeled "Draco Malfoy" appear in a small, enclosed room. And next to it was another small dot:
"Pansy Parkinson."
"No . . ." I whispered. I dropped the Map on to the floor as though it were a poisonous snake, but then began to stomp on it.
"Hermione, what are you doing?" Harry bellowed, reaching for the Map but jerking away every time I pounded it into the ground.
"Don't you get it?" I screamed, tears streaming from my face. "He cheated on me! He's making out with Pansy in a closet at this very second!"
"You don't know that! He could just be . . . talking to her . . . or telling her a secret or something," Ron stammered.
"He's not, Ron, and you know it! Would he be telling her something that close?" I shrieked.
"Oh, 'Mione . . ." he whispered, reaching out to me. I, however, turned away.
"I need to go find him," I said through clenched teeth.
"D'you want me to come?" Ron asked quickly. "I swear, Hermione, I will hit him so hard, he'll have to –"
"No! No, I don't need you, I don't need anyone! Just leave me alone!"
I ran out of the portrait hole, my heart pounding furiously, towards the closet in which Pansy and Malfoy were locked.
Ginny came running down the stairs to the Girl's Dormitory the second she heard the screaming. She knew that voice. She just didn't know why it was so upset. And she wasn't sure she wanted to know why either.
When she arrived at the Common Room, Harry's mouth was hanging open and Ron was clutching the Marauder's Map, his finger tracing the Hallways.
"There she goes . . ." he murmured. "Damn, she's fast."
"What happened?" Ginny cried.
"Ginny? What are you doing up this late?" Harry exclaimed.
"I heard shouting. What happened?" she demanded.
"Hermione found out," Ron said in barely more than a whisper.
"Found out what?!"
"Malfoy cheated on her."
Ginny's eyes widened. She turned to look at Harry, her mouth fallen open as his had been. "No! He couldn't have! He couldn't hurt Hermione like that! He –"
But Harry simply stood there, gnawing on his lower lip, his head nodding up and down.
"Oh, Harry!" she cried. She flung her arms around his neck and he put a comforting arm around her as well. "How could he do that to her?"
"I don't know, Ginny. I just don't know."
"What's going on here?" a voice called from the stairs. "I heard shouting, then the next thing I knew, Ginny was down here . . ."
"Parvati, Malfoy cheated on Hermione with Pansy," Ron said quickly, as though he was trying to get the words out of his mouth quickly.
"That's horrible! Should I find her?" Parvati asked.
"No, the last thing she needs now is you – no offense, of course," Harry mumbled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go bring Ginny up to bed."
As they watched Harry escort Ginny upstairs, Ron muttered, "What is up with them? He's been acting strangely all year!"
"I know, and they claim not to be going out . . ." Parvati trailed off.
Ron gulped and said, "Actually, Parvati, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Going out, I mean."
Parvati smiled slightly, nodded, and said, "Yeah, let me guess – you still like Hermione, right?"
"Yeah," he sighed, adding quickly when he realized what he had said, "Wait – what do you mean still? And how did you know?"
"Everyone can tell, Ron, you've had a crush on Hermione for, like, ever. We've all been waiting for you to ask her out, but you just never did. To be honest, I was surprised when you asked me out instead. Then I figured out why and I thought that if true love was the cause, I definitely wanted to help out."
"Figured out what?" Ron said defiantly.
"Oh, Ron, you're so naïve . . ." Parvati said. "You're in denial. You realized that Hermione didn't like you, so you forced yourself to believe that you didn't like her either. And so you asked me out to further make yourself believe it. But in your heart you knew that you liked her, and so when you found out that Malfoy dumped her and you had a chance, you let it out into the daylight. Now you're dumping me because you have a chance with Hermione again.
"And not only are you naïve because you couldn't tell that you were in denial, you're naïve not to see that she's only going out with Malfoy to make you jealous in the first place," Parvati finished.
"Wow," Ron said. "How do you know all this?"
"It's happened to me a couple of times before."
"And how do you know that she wants to make me jealous? Why can't she just ask me? It's not like I have forty other girls tailing after me all the time," he said.
"Well, that's because she's scared. And when you really love someone, sometimes you're too blind to see that the other person you're in love with loves you back. Think about it, Ron – she always blushed when you say something sweet, she fights with you constantly to try and cover it up, and she always has to cover up for things she does or says that might make you think that she likes you. She's just protecting her feelings," Parvati explained.
Ron looked like he could have kissed her. "Oh, I'm so glad you understand." He gave her a friendly hug before they both said goodnight.
As Parvati trudged upstairs to the Girl's Dormitory, Ron felt his heart swell to about four times its usual size. He reached into the pocket of his bathrobe and pulled out a small, square-shaped box. As he leaned back into the armchair and pressed the box to his chest, he felt a new sense of determination. He now knew that no one stood in his way.
I ran down the dark corridors, not caring what portraits protested at the light I shined on them. I just needed to see it to believe it.
Wand out in front of me, a dim light shining on the floor, my heart stopped when I realized I was in front of the wooden door to where Malfoy was. I looked at the structure in front of me, my chest heaving. Slowly, I reached for the doorknob, and with a courage somewhere within me I didn't know I possessed, wrenched open the door.
Sure enough, there was Draco, his lips locked with Pansy's his hand creeping up her shirt.
"You bloody bastard," I shouted. He abruptly broke away from Pansy, who let out sort of a girly shriek, and made a move towards me in hopes of changing my mind, but I simply let out all my anger in a resounding slap. Pansy squeaked and clapped her hands to her mouth, and Draco clutched his cheek.
In looking back on the year, I realized that I had slapped him more than once. If he had really loved me, he wouldn't have done anything to make me slap him. And I knew that, somewhere within my soul. Why, then, was I so hurt?
"Hermione, it's not what you think!" he said, still pressing his hand to his cheek. Pansy put her arms around him in comfort, but he hissed, "Get off!"
"What else could it be? You're making out with her! And you were feeling her up! How could you think you could treat me like this?"
"Well, it's your own fault! You didn't give me the action I wanted –"
"Action?!" I roared. "ACTION? IF YOU REALLY LOVED ME, THEN YOU WOULDN'T CARE HOW FAR I WANTED TO GO! YOU WOULD RESPECT MY BOUNDARIES AND NOT GO ANY FURTHER THAN I WANTED!"
"Well you know what, babe? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don't love you!" Malfoy hissed. "Now, if you'll excuse me . . ."
And just as simply as that, he continued making out with Pansy. And he was so plain about it that I could see his tongue transferring from his mouth to hers.
I couldn't take it anymore. I whipped out my wand and shouted, "Rictusempra!" Malfoy was hurled backwards into the wall, bashing his head against the shelves in the closet. Pansy screamed.
"How could you!" she shrieked, moving towards me. I kept my wand out in front of me and she stopped dead.
"I know many more curses worse than that, babe, so you better stay back!" I hissed. She did. I turned and ran.
I wished more than anything that I could go back to my old room – the Gryffindor Girl's Dormitory. But I couldn't go there. If I went there, I would be questioned and people would try and talk to me and I'd miss my rounds and be in even more trouble than I had wanted. So I was forced to flee to my private bedroom, to lock the doors with every charm I could think of to keep them locked – even one to lock the doors to the bathroom.
I just flopped down on my bed and let the tears spill from my eyes like raindrops from a thundercloud. Tonight was one of those nights where I wanted the world to be different when I awoke. Then I wouldn't have to deal with Malfoy anymore. I could be the old Hermione, the one everyone claims that Ron liked, the one he really did like, the Hermione I really was – not the short-skirted, low-cut, tear-streaked Hermione I had become.
And Ron, oh, Ron. What about Ron? He probably thought it served me right, especially after I pushed him away when he tried to comfort me. That was one of the pros of a different world – Ron would no longer hate me. He was tearing away at me bit by bit. Every time I locked eyes with him, my heart stopped. He had this pleading look about them that made me want to reach out and kill all of his troubles. But that was exactly what ate at me – I couldn't.
But in this alternate universe I had created in my mind, if there was no Ron, how would I live? He had given me something to strive for when I had always been perfect in everything else. All he had to do to cheer me up was acknowledge my existence in a positive manner, and a smile made my day. He was a comfort to me, a reason I had to live. And he was the reason for Operation Jealousy in the first place. I realized that no, I didn't want this other world – I was much better off with Ron hating me than without him at all.
So as I cried myself to sleep that night, my mascara leaking on to my pillow that smelled of Crookshank's fur and was scratchy like a cactus, my hair tousled from kicking and pounding, I did not dream of another world – just a better one.