a/n: Sorry, this time it took a longer time to get the chapter together. I had some troubles with this, and I'm actually not certain of it all, yet, either. Thank you all so much for your reviews, and remember, also criticism and comments are very welcome! This isn't the last chapter. I was going to put it all into this chapter, but then you would have had to wait even longer. So, here it is:

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Resolutions and Sneaky Moves

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In the middle of her victory march, which consisted of taking out sharpened quills and piles of parchment as well as all her books that might help, Hermione realized something else, too. Something that filled her with a lovely warm tingling feeling. Something she didn't dare to think too closely, but only let it roam, unfocused, in the background of her mind: If Ron wasn't under any spell, then he meant it when he said I was bloody gorgeous.

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Hermione Granger was doing what she did best.: research. Her ballpoint pen she had finally opted for instead of the regulated quill, was hurriedly scribbling tiny, slightly uneven notes in a little blue notebook. Even though she normally always used a quill, ink and parchment when taking notes (just to truly adjust to the wizarding culture, in a way one uses chopsticks in a Chinese restaurant), when feeling particularly agitated, she often chose the less elaborate and less messy Muggle style of penmanship.This was one of those moments.

With her research and her notes and the way her books bowed to her will, she was gaining confidence. The thrill of finally feeling like being in charge of this frustrating situation with the evil portraits elevated her and filled her with energy. Each logical step she made, each little background check she managed, each obscure comment she easily interpreted left her more contained, more relaxed; and still she was energized, full of sizzling power, ready to tackle anything.

She had suspected for a while that some people could actually get high on knowledge, and she was obviously one of the lucky.

She didn't want to face her Housemates and leave her room for the Library and at first, she hadn't been sure how she could research with her meager collection of a few hundred books. Then she had realized Melasina Charmeuse wasn't the only witch lurking inside Hogwarts, a History.

Melasina Charmeuse could maybe easily move from page to page, trying to taunt Hermione with her winks and knowing grins, but so could the other habitants of the Head Girl's favourite book, and even though they weren't really able to interact with Hermione otherwise than by footnotes and an occasional wave, it seemed they had no trouble whatsoever in communicating with each other.

Apparently, Melasina wasn't very well liked, at least not amongst the witches occupying Hogwarts, a History. After a while, instead of growing agitated when seeing the smugly smiling Melasina, Hermione only began to anticipate, with a rising interest, who would it be this time to forcefully evict the scheming witch from the page she was trying to read.

After each eviction, the witches and occasionally also the wizards in the book would enlighten Hermione of the ways suitable for dealing with unruly portraits. She was relieved and exhilarated to, once again, find true advice and comfort in her favourite book, and she devoured all the offered information anxiously.

Finally, she was ready. The solution was a simple one, really. It was only a question of taking matters into her own hands, of gaining control of her own life and her own emotions. There was nothing else to it.

According to the data she had collected during the six uninterrupted hours of research, the great conspirators of Hogwart's really didn't have any power over people who weren't afraid of taking risks and revealing their emotions. Their whole shceme was founded on the people's selfish will not to place themselves in a position where they might face rejection or humiliation.

She had learnt her lesson. After the past day filled with utter humiliation, she could face some more, if it was to save others from the sinister art. She felt proud of herself over genuinely having such unselfish thoughts, but in the back of her mind she knew she wouldn't have been so eager to take action had it not been Ron who was in danger. Furthermore, she would hardly have been so ready to take the particular way of action she was contemplating, had Ron not said those few anything but immaculate words that had made her tingle pleasantly with hope.

Yes, she maybe wouldn't have been so ready to fulfill her present plan, if she hadn't had that tiniest bit of tingle fluttering away inside her stomach – or was it her chest? It was hard to accurately place a tingle, particularly when she daren't really acknowledge it for the fear of it disappearing under further scrutiny.

She rehearsed in front of her mirror. She knew she would have to act very self-assured and weaken Derek's confidence before she could even hope to influence the infuriating man. At times like this, Hermione really longed for Muggle mirrors. Rehearsing stuff in front of a mirror was normally done to avoid humiliating oneself in front of an audience, not to hear witty commentary from one's own reflection. Unfortunately, wizarding mirrors didn't seem to grasp the concept of privacy very well.

"That was better than the last one, honey! I would have believed you, if you hadn't been wringing your hands together so nervously. Try it again!"

Yes, wizarding mirrors apparently not only misunderstood the term seclusion, but also possessed an alarming amount of personal traits more adequate to a strict elocution coach.

"You simply must have assistance, Hermione. It would make the whole speech so much more believable, wouldn't you think so?"

"Stating the obvious, aren't we?" Hermione replied sarcastically. She knew very well she needed assistance, and more accurately, a certain person's assistance. And she had to take action now!

Carefully, Hermione approached the door. She pressed her ear against it for a moment, before remembering she was a witch. Then she cast a spying spell at the door and listened hard. The spying spell didn't work like Extendable Ears, it only let her hear everything exactly as she would have, had there not been the door between her and the Common Room. So she had to listen very hard to be sure no-one was up anymore. It wasn't very likely that they were, as it was, after all, almost one o'clock and a school night, but she didn't want to take any unnecessary risks.

After a quarter of an hour of concentrated listening, Hermione gathered Harry's cloak under her arm and prepared to do some serious sneaking. It wasn't going to be easy. She would have to avoid alerting not only the girls in the neighbouring rooms, but also the Fat Lady and, most difficultly, the boy's in the Seventh Year Boys' dorm. Harry, in particular, was nowadays known as a very light sleeper. Still, she had to do it – she truly needed assistance.

Almost silently, Hermione crept down the stairs. The Common Room was dark, only dying embers in the fireplace gave it any light. She didn't want to light her wand, though. It was better to get used to the dark, for she certainly wasn't going to lumos up a room with a sleeping Harry in it. Carefully, she took the last step – and it creaked.

The sound echoed ominously in the silence of the empty room. Hermione froze, listened, and when she didn't hear a thing, continued to advance cautiously. Then, from the corner of her eye, she noticed something - no, someone - moving.

"Hermione?" The voice was very familiar. She could have recognized it anywhere.

"Ron?"

"Look, Hermione," he began, his voice hoarse as if he had just waken up, "if we can't leave the dorms, neither can you. You know something, don't you? There's no bloody way I'm going to let you handle this by yourself, nevermind what it is!"

She should have guessed. It was such a Ron-thing to do, trying to protect her even when he didn't know the threat. Well, it saved her an excursion to the Seventh Year Boys' room. Hermione took a deep breath and collected all of her determination. Now was the time. She wouldn't chicken out now.

"Ron," she forced herself to meet his eyes, "I actually need your help. I've done something...stupid." Ron was looking at her, with a mixture of bemusement and alarm on his face and his gaze made her, once again, stumble with her words. "I – I...last night, I went to meet someone and it was a...mistake. I did something I shouldn't have done...I released something that should have stayed restricted. Now I have to fix it, before my mistake will harm others."

"What did he do to you? It was that Derek fellow, wasn't it?" For some reason, Ron wasn't yelling or even blushing. Instead, he was pale and his voice was low and his words carefully articulated. Hermione suddenly realized he sounded like a full-grown man. He shouldn't have, he was only seventeen years old, for Heaven's sake.

He should have sounded like a teenager he was, he should have acted like one. He shouldn't have had that solemn tilt in his voice, that sad resignation and heavy threat molded weirdly together. She didn't want to hear it. She had to break through his act. Instinctively, she called up her familiar bossy conduct.

"No, Ron, it's nothing like that! You don't understand at all! I have to meet Derek again, now-"

She didn't get any further, because now he did rise his voice: "What?! Now? It's one bloody o'clock, Hermione! You are not going to meet some bloke who hurt you, certainly not at one o'clock at night! I won't let you!"

"But I'm not going alone, Ron. You are coming with me."

"What?! If you want to get his face pummelled in, then I'll come!"

"You couldn't pummell his face in, Ron," Hermione giggled softly, partly at the thought of Ron getting into a fistfight with a painting, partly of relief, because now he was again acting like the quick-tempered youngster he was supposed to be. Too late, she realized her laughter could have been interpreted in a wrong way – and sure, by the certain red-head, it had.

"I couldn't? Yeah, sure, I'm not up to it! You can handle it all by yourself, don't you? I can't leave the dorms, nooo, but you can! You can deal with all the mysterious jerks, even if you freak out and try to hex firsties in the corridors if they happen to called Derek! Yeah, you don't need nobody!"

"Ron-" Again, she was interrupted and apparently, her soothing voice didn't work any better than her previous attempt at humour.

"Don't you Ron me, Hermione!" He was shouting first, but then seemed to remember what time it was and his voice changed into a vehement hiss. "What do you want me there for, huh? To watch you two snog?!"

Hearing the ludicrous accusation, Hermione gasped and let go of Harry's cloak. The cloth flowed to the floor and the soft silky sound caught Ron's attention. "You took Harry's cloak again? For me, huh? Sure, you don't want him to see me! Why do you need me there, Hermione? Why? To evaluate his performance? Or yours? D'you need some pointers? Not so sure if you can get an Outstanding, in this subject? Well, you haven't had any practice, have you now? Nooo, 'cause no-one's good enough for you!"

She felt like hitting him, or crying, or shouting aloud, or simply running back to her room. Most of all, the lovely tingle she had so devoutly nurtured had totally vanished. In its place, there was only an almost tangible void, radiating misery. She felt as if she was drowning inside herself, the flood of sadness actually rising from her gut into her lungs and suffocating her.

But she couldn't give up. Not now. Especially if there wasn't any hope whatsoever that Ron could return her feelings. If he didn't, the threat the paintings presented was even worse. She couldn't stand the idea of him loving her when she would know there wasn't any truth in his affection. She couldn't stand the idea of depriving him of his true feelings, of wronging him like that.

Nevermind how Ron had just hurt her, Hermione Granger was a loyal friend, who placed the well-being of her friends above her own needs. Even if the persuasion of the said friends demanded harsh moves.

"Shut it, Ronald Weasley! You don't understand it at all! This is serious! I....dammit, I'll show you!"

She wasn't sure if it was her cursing or the tears that, again, were running on her face, that made him shut up. He was still sullen and frowning, but he was silent, and Hermione took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice from breaking.

"Let's go, then."

Ron didn't answer, but started towards the Fat Lady. Before he had taken a full step, Hermione grabbed his sleeve.

"No! Don't you remember what she did the last time!"

"How are we going to get out, then?"

"Haven't I told you dozens of times, that you really should read Hogwarts, a History?"

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a/n: There. How are they going to get out of the Gryffindor Tower? What is the action Hermione is planning to take? Why does she need assistance? Will the tingle return? How will Ron react to Derek? Why on earth couldn't Hermione explain it right away? The final chapter will hopefully reveal it all (except maybe Hermione's occasional stupidity, that's only human, isn't it?). Stay tuned!

And please, tell me how you found this chapter! I'm a bit uncertain about the fight....and if you have some questions you feel should get answered in the end, please let me know! I really don't want to overlook some important aspect. Thank you!

salemwitch – thank you! And I really appreciate you reading also the Stove. There I actually dealt with some issues....;)

FetishFemale – Yeah, I certainly also hope the ending won't suck ;)

dancingirl3 – Um...I'm afraid Hermione had occupied my brain and the result is somehow confusing...lol...I'm trying to improve the part of confusion that's due to my personal troubles with the English language (not a native, you see...)