Hermione couldn't concentrate at all during Herbology. She couldn't get her mind off Draco Malfoy.
Not for lack of trying. The last person she wanted in her head was him.
Consequently, she finished the lesson sporting a comically sized white bandage on her thumb, the result of a bite from a Maybeak, a particularly nasty variety of carnivorous cucumber.
It had taken both Ron and Harry to prise it off, and in turn it had bitten Ron on the nose, which was now swollen to nearly twice its size, making him breathe with an audible rasp.
Madam Pomfrey had refused to do little other than clean the wounds and bandage them, or in Ron's case cover it with the tiniest of plasters, which only served to make him look more ridiculous. She claimed it would ensure they paid more attention in class in future.
Ron hadn't been happy, protesting that he'd only been helping Hermione.
He was still moaning to Harry now, as they made their way outside to enjoy the evening sunlight. Hermione followed, still lost in thought.
She kept asking herself the same question. How was she going to deal with Malfoy's games?
She knew that she couldn't stop the teasing and taunts from everyone else, and to her surprise she realised that it didn't really bother her anymore. What did was him and his newfound way of getting under her skin. She didn't know how to react to it and he was taking advantage of that.
"Um, Hermione?" Ron's nasally voice broke into her musings. She blinked and realised with a start that she had almost walked right into Professor McGonagall.
"Sorry Professor," she mumbled, stepping back.
Professor McGonagall gave her a stern look and seemed to want to say something to her. But instead, she turned to Harry. "Professor Dumbledore requests your presence in his office, Mr Potter," she said in her no-nonsense voice. "Follow me." She walked briskly away.
Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione and shrugged, then trotted after her.
"Since when has McGonagall been Dumbledore's messenger?" Ron wondered aloud.
Hermione shook her head distractedly.
"What's up with you anyway?" Ron asked, examining his bulbous nose for the millionth time with his finger.
Hermione turned away from the retreating figures of Harry and McGonagall and continued walking. "I'm ok," she answered, not very convincingly.
Ron caught her up and stepped in front of her. "No you're not. What is it?" He peered at her closely. "Is it because of today?"
She nodded.
He cursed. "What's Malfoy up to? All that bloody sweetheart stuff…"
Hermione grunted. "It's his new 'tactic'. He knows getting nasty doesn't work with me, so he's being nice instead." She spat out the word 'nice'. "Only problem is, it's working," she admitted.
"But why you? Why not me, or Harry?"
Hermione stared at Ron curiously. "You want Malfoy to get up close and personal with you Ron?"
Ron went red. "No, of course not." He coughed. "No, I meant why has he singled you out? It's always been all three of us before."
Hermione's brow wrinkled. Despite all the thinking she'd done, that question hadn't actually occurred to her.
"Just ignore him," Ron advised, and then remembered who he was talking to.
Hermione looked up at him as she sat down on a tree stump near Hagrid's Hut.
He grinned. "Yeah, how stupid of me. As if you'd actually ignore him just because I told you to. I mean, you didn't this morning did you?"
Hermione couldn't help smiling. Ron sat on the grass beside her and for a while they chatted about other things, mainly what Dumbledore wanted with Harry.
It wasn't often anyone was summoned to his office, and when they were it was usually for something important.
By the time they got up again to leave, they'd exhausted just about every possibility, from Harry being made a prefect, to a disguised Voldemort shuffling around in Dumbledore's aging body and needing somebody to go to Hogsmeade to buy him some Fizzing Whizzbees.
They laughed long and hard over that last one.
But as they were returning to the Great Hall for a light supper, the conversation revolved back to Draco Malfoy.
Hermione spotted him sat at the Slytherin table, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle and surrounded by a host of fellow Slytherins from all years. They were all laughing at something Malfoy had said, and Hermione had a sinking feeling it was something about her.
Ron bumped into her from behind as she halted in the doorway, and banged his nose on the back of her head. "When did you get so bloody tall?" he asked between curses. He clutched at his face.
As if it wasn't bad enough, his nose had now started to bleed. He tried to pinch it shut but it was too swollen and sore. "I'm going back to Madam Pomfrey, and this time I'm not leaving until she does something," he grumbled.
He threw a departing glance towards Malfoy. "You know, I can't see why you don't just play him at his own game," he said before disappearing in the direction of the hospital wing.
Hermione watched him go with a thoughtful expression on her face. She stepped out of the doorway so a couple of Hufflepuff girls could pass.
Play him at his own game?
A slow grin spread across her face. Maybe that wasn't as absurd as it sounded.
There was still no sign of Harry over an hour later.
Hermione was getting impatient. She'd been sat in the Gryffindor common room waiting for him. She wanted to see what he thought of Ron's suggestion.
Ron had returned from his trip to the hospital wing looking as green as the cucumber that had bit him.
Madam Pomfrey had cleaned his nosebleed then given him one of her more potent medicines, apparently to negate any poison remaining from the plant. She'd insisted he didn't need it, that it's extremely rare for anyone to be allergic to Maybeak juice, but Ron had been adamant.
How he'd regretted that.
He had slinked off to bed accompanied by a big bowl, hoping that slugs weren't going to make an appearance any time soon.
Hermione gazed around the room. Neville had been sat in the armchair by the empty fireplace for the past forty-five minutes, clutching his remembrall and trying desperately to remember whatever it was he had forgotten.
Seamus and Dean were huddled around a table, papers spread out in front of them. Somehow, she knew it wasn't any last minute assignment they were doing.
Parvati and Lavender were stood beside them, blocking her view somewhat, and giggling. She knew she was becoming paranoid but again she had the unshakable feeling it was something to do with her.
Silly, she berated herself. Why would they do it right under your nose if it was?
But then they all burst into laughter and Hermione caught Dean's sly glance at her.
She got up in irritation and stomped over to the portrait. Was it just her or did the Fat Lady appear to be smirking at her too?
It was a relief when she found herself alone on the landing.
She headed up the stairs towards Dumbledore's office, in search of Harry. She didn't know what she hoped to achieve, and sure enough the stone gargoyle that stood outside remained impassive to her.
She even tried guessing the password a few times, but it could have been anything – Dumbledore changed it every day – so eventually she gave up.
She sighed with exasperation. Had she really expected the statue to let her in? She shook her head. This business with Malfoy was starting to cloud her judgement.
Just as she was about to leave and retrace her steps, she heard voices. She looked around wildly but there was nowhere to hide. She had no choice but to face them.
Shortly, McGonagall and Cornelius Fudge rounded the corner. McGonagall's eyebrows rose when she saw Hermione. "Yes Miss Granger? What can we do for you?"
Fudge acknowledged Hermione's polite 'Good evening' with a nod, but he seemed impatient to be off so she drew a deep breath and asked, "Where's Harry?"
Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "That, young lady, is of no concern to you." She glanced at Fudge before continuing. "However, suffice it to say he has left the school for the evening and will be back tomorrow morning."
Hermione opened her mouth to ask where he had gone but McGonagall suggested firmly that she should return to Gryffindor tower before curfew. With that, she followed Fudge past the gargoyle and up the stairs, the hideous stone creature closing behind them.
Hermione was puzzled. Why would Harry be whisked away like that? Where had he gone?
And what had the Ministry of Magic got to do with it?
She dawdled back to the stairs.
Now she had two things on her mind.
Her footsteps echoed through the deserted corridors on the way down.
As she neared Gryffindor tower, she convinced herself that she saw movements in the shadows.
She couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.
She put it down to Peeves the poltergeist, or one of the more salubrious ghosts that roamed the school, but all the same she quickened her pace.
Nevertheless, she was caught completely off guard when someone grabbed her from behind just as she was about to give the password to the Fat Lady.
Her assailant pulled her backwards down a small side corridor and hauled her into a store cupboard.
She was astounded when she turned around to find Pansy Parkinson stood against the door, glaring at her.
"I've been waiting for you to return," she said. "I don't know what you think you're doing Granger but it stops right now."
"What does?" Hermione asked, her head still whirling.
"Don't play dumb with me. You know what I'm talking about."
After the day she'd had, Hermione wasn't in the mood for this. "Actually, Idon't know what you're talking about. Now if you don't mind…" She made a move for the door but was pushed back roughly. Pansy's slight stature belied her strength.
"I'm not finished with you yet," Pansy hissed.
Hermione almost laughed. Who did Parkinson think she was?
"You just stay away from Draco, got that?"
Now Hermione did laugh. She might have known.
Pansy glowered, her fists clenched. "I mean it Granger. If I see you encouraging him like you did today, I'll make sure you regret it." She whipped around and yanked the door open.
Hermione watched her go, open-mouthed. 'Encouraging him?'
The door slammed shut in a cloud of dust. Hermione sneezed.
'What was all that about!' she wondered.