Disclaimer: Still in the prologue, quick refresher: I don't own it!
AN: After the weekend I had, it seemed fitting to post this chapter. Ever had one of 'those' days? Hermione is, I fondly title this chapter "The Woes of Hermione". It's a bit out there, but I hope you enjoy regardless.
To say that her day was bad would be a gross understatement in her opinion. It could not have been any worse if Trelawny herself had predicted it and Voldemort had descended on the school to demand that Harry meet him in battle. Well, perhaps the Voldemort thing would make it worse, but short of that, this was her worst day in memory. By the time lunch had rolled around, Hermione was seriously questioning why she'd bothered to get out of bed at all. But her problem started with the fact that she never exactly made it to bed in the first place the night before.
Last night had been the full moon, which left Harry concerned over Remus, particularly since he had not heard back from the man, and Hedwig had yet to return from the trip to begin with. She'd told her friend that with the weather being somewhat blustery, it'd take the owl a good while to fly through the wind and rain, provided she didn't find somewhere dry to wait out the inclement weather in the first place. She'd also pointed out that Lupin could have been staying at his own home instead of Grimmauld, which was where Harry had directed the letter. The once stately, if slowly decaying, home was likely full of memories that he would want to escape. All that bit of logic had done was cause Harry to worry about his pet in addition to the werewolf.
Eventually, he had put it out of his mind, and picked up a book on defensive spells and their applications, settling down to read, using her as a backrest. For her part, she'd been sprawled out on the floor, before being used as furniture, basking in the heat radiating from the fireplace. She was wearing a pair of oversized flannel pajamas nicked from her father over the summer, which she felt was the height of comfort as well as being a reminder of home. Her focus was on re-writing her transfiguration essay for the final time, then moved on to her translations for ancient runes, planning to recheck the Arithmancy equations that were due on the first of November.
Hermione hadn't made it past her third paragraph, translating some rubbish about Geraldine the Bearded who had managed to flick when she ought to have swished, resulting in the growth of a thick, furry beard, the likes of which would have made Hagrid envious. Much to Geraldine's dismay, the beard mishap topped the list of her accomplishments, and became the defining event of her lifetime.
She woke the next morning to the sound of Colin snickering with Rebecca, Pearl and Katherine. Head still muzzy with sleep, she tried to roll and stretch; only to realize she couldn't. Somehow, she'd become pinned under something that was considerably heavier than Crookshanks, and not nearly as soft. Hermione's eyes focused on the group who had disturbed her rest, angling her neck awkwardly and shooting, what she had hoped was, a quelling glare. The titters she received in response led her to believe that she had failed.
On the plus side, it went a long way toward identifying the reason she was still pinned to the floor. It turned out that Harry had fallen asleep in front of the fire, much as she had, using her as a pillow. He yawned and successfully executed a stretch, before sitting up and helping her to shift from belly to bum. For some reason beyond her recollection this early in the morning, this triggered another round of giggling. A bright flash rendered her blind for a few moments as black spots danced in her vision.
"Colin, that had better have been a botched lumos spell, because, so help me, if that was a camera, your brother is going to be the only Creevey left at Hogwarts!" she snarled. Her eyes started focusing as she blinked frequently, only to realize that the first three buttons weren't fastened on her top. And this knowledge turned her cheeks pink as she fumbled to re-button them. She wasn't showing much, but it was the principle of the matter.
She started to tally the morning's indignities in her mind:
First, she had a crick in her neck and an achy back from lying on the floor and being used as a human pillow all night long.
Second, the Gryffindor gossips, minus Lavender and Pavarti, had witnessed her waking in a somewhat compromising position. It wouldn't take long for the rumor mill to catch wind of this latest development.
Third, Colin had at least one photo of her, bleary eyed, disheveled and frizzy haired. Not one of her better moments to be sure. At least one could not see morning breath on film.
She cast her eyes about, looking for her homework, unable to find it.
Fourth, her schoolwork magically grew legs and walked off. An occurrence that wasn't unheard of in a magical school, but highly unlikely without some sort of help.
Fifth, she was dead tired still, which meant that she probably had gotten too much sleep.
One look at her friend, who she found to be grinning like a maniac, had her snapping out, "It's not funny Harry."
The others, who were in close vicinity, beat hasty retreats, recognizing a volatile mood when they heard one.
The Boy-Who-Lived was not so smart. "Why isn't it? Your hair is a right fright, and it's not often that someone takes you by surprise."
For some reason, this only served as a goad to her temper, and made her angrier. "This is your fault Harry Potter!"
"Wait, what? MY fault?"
"Yes, if you'd woken up like you normally do, then my sleep schedule wouldn't have been thrown off, not to mention that…"
His voice cut across hers, "So my not having a nightmare and getting a full night of some of the best sleep I've gotten in ages is a bad thing because of the inconvenience to YOU?"
"It's not YOUR social life that's going to be ruined if those pictures end up in circulation here at school!"
"What in the bloody hell are you on about?"
"Are you honestly so thick that you can't see?" she yelled in exasperation.
"See what? Maybe if you told me instead of flying off the handle like some silly bint, I'd understand."
"Bint? A bint am I? Oh that's rich coming from you Potter! I have better things to do besides argue with some naïve boy like you who can't fathom what gossip will come from this whole thing! I have to find my homework!" She spun on her heel and stalked up the stairs to the dorm, much like Crookshanks when he'd gotten his tail slammed in the portrait door a few weeks ago.
"Fine then Hermy!" he yelled up to her, "when you start being your rational self again, you let me know!" He felt no guilt in neglecting to tell her that Ron had asked Ginny to take her books up last night after she'd succumbed to sleep's pull. Harry went about preparing for a day without Hermione's company, which dampened his mood suitably before he went down to catch the end of breakfast. But it was her fault for verbally attacking him in the first place, so she was at fault, and she should apologize.
Hermione, on the other hand, added fighting with Harry as the sixth item on her list of things gone wrong for the day, knowing that Harry only referred to her has 'Hermy' when he felt she was acting like a troll. Loath to admit that there might be some truth in the sentiment, she instead opted for a shower, which would hopefully wake her up a bit more, and ease her backache if there was enough hot water left. But fate was against her this day, and she was left with a five-minute, lukewarm dash through the shower, and a tangle of hair that she could only hide by securing it in a sloppy bun. It was just another manifestation of her luck that she couldn't find her conditioner.
Glancing at the clock, she resisted the urge to swear, instead frantically trying to locate her essay for transfigurations, which incidentally, was her first class of the day. The best she had come up with was a prior draft that was stuck within her book on her bed. She stuffed it into her bag, running to make her class in time, wondering how her books had ended up in the dorm without her knowing.
Along the way, she debated between turning in what she had, though she felt it was inferior to the completed work of the previous night, or to explain to Professor McGonagall her situation and plead to hand it in later that day, which might lose her points on the paper for it's tardiness. That didn't even take into consideration that she still had a half-completed rune translation that was due tomorrow, waiting to be finished. And she just couldn't find it within herself to assume that her Arithmancy was correct without going over it at least once more. So, as much as she disliked the thought, she'd hand in the draft and hopefully not obsess over its lack of completeness for the remainder of the day.
She'd managed to slide into her seat with two minutes to spare, but still grumbling under her breath, mostly due to Filch docking house points for running in the hall. That incident made her tally grow to nine, behind her disappointing shower and missing breakfast. It was only two points, but it still upset her considerably more than it ought to have.
So when Ron started to talk to her, she growled at him, "What do you want Ron?"
He slid a parchment to her and muttered, "Harry was right. You're a grouch this morning. I was only trying to return your essay to you since you missed breakfast, and you nip my head off. How's that for gratitude, I ask you?"
"Hang on, you took my essay?"
"Just borrowed it to see if I missed anything important on my own work, no harm done."
"No harm?" Her whispering became even more heated, "No harm, I've been going spare trying to find it! To the point of missing breakfast, and now my stomach hurts from growling, and you think no harm's been done?"
She snatched the scroll from the desk, shouldered her bag and changed seats, sitting next to Dean. He had overheard the heated exchange, and moved to her vacated spot, mumbling something to the effect of not wishing to sit next to someone with a temperament that rivaled that of a Norwegian Ridgeback.
Ten, she added as she and Ron weren't talking now. Or would it be nine since her essay was found and accounted for? Hermione decided to keep it as ten, figuring that her frantic searching was still a large contributor to her bad day.
Eleven hit as transfiguration came to a close for the morning. It dawned on her that her mood, the tiredness, and the persistent ache in her back and belly could only herald one thing. Since there was only ten minutes left in the class, she risked calling the Professor over to beg permission to leave early. Thankfully, most students were practicing the spell to change liquids into a solid form, so her conversation went unnoticed.
"Professor, I've all ready learned the charm, could I leave early please?"
"Miss Granger, I don't think it would be appropriate to…"
"PLEASE Professor." She shot the older witch an urgent look, "It's a personal matter that I MUST take care of, at least before it becomes obvious to others."
McGonagall narrowed her eyes, gauging whether Hermione was being truthful, then realized it was Hermione, and nodded her permission. "The best of us forget sometimes. Do not make this a habit, Miss Granger. And leave your essay with me. The homework is to read the next two chapters and be prepared for a discussion on the principals of both methods as well as comparing and contrasting which method is more practical under a variety of circumstances. You are excused."
"Thank you," she breathed, fishing out her essay, the final draft, then ducked out the door as fast as dignity would permit her.
The day, she thought, just kept getting better. How could she have forgotten about her monthly? It happened like clockwork for the past year and a half. And now she would have to figure out a way to apologize to both Harry and Ron for being so irrational without going into detail as to why, which meant that she wouldn't live the moment down for some time. But if they did crow over her lack of reason, she'd kill them. She'd read somewhere in a newspaper that a woman had been found non-guilty for murdering a boyfriend by using PMS as her defense.
She was still in the ladies when class let out. She was grateful for the extra time those minutes had afforded her since it was necessary to cast a cleaning charm on her knickers and her skirt. Mortifying, to say the least.
She was about to exit the cubicle, when she heard what sounded like a henhouse worth of females enter, and her ears caught her name being tossed about in the current discussion.
"Hermione has denied dating him, so he's fair game."
"She says she's not, but do you ever see them apart?" this was followed by laughter.
She then heard a toilet flush, then a mirth-filled giggle. "Merlin, she's probably too smart to 'date' him, the Mudblood is probably just shagging him for the time being." This was, Hermione knew, Pansy Parkinson.
"I hardly think she'd be doing that without some form of relationship first." Hermione identified Hannah Abbot, and was feeling quite pleased with the girl's logic until she followed up with, "They are probably just keeping it a secret because of all the publicity about her and Krum in fourth year. Why would they want to be subject to such nasty journalism, wouldn't it mar the romance?"
"You really do belong in Hufflepuff, you know that don't you? She's shagging him, at least until he gets himself killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, then she'll get on top of whatever bloke'll have her. She'd be a fool not to entertain Potter's attentions, he's famous, but she will have to move on eventually." Hermione clenched her fist, wanting to drive it into the pug's face, but also wondering if Hannah would continue to defend her.
"She'd wait until she was in…"
"A relationship? What would Little-Miss-Know-It-All-Granger say? It's all a matter of semantics." Pansy was using a mocking tone that in no way resembled her voice. "Harry and I are friends, and by virtue of that relationship, I have no qualms about shagging him. That makes us 'friends with benefits'." She cackled snidely.
"Pansy has a point." This came from someone Hermione knew was in Ravenclaw, but couldn't place a name or face to. "Relationship is only a word. Besides, Cho said that Harry had an unnatural fixation with her, and that was before Pearl and Tricia told Luna, who mentioned to Padma, who told me that they fell asleep in front of the common room fire, AND that half of Hermione's buttons were opened. Look at the evidence, it's only logical that something is going on."
"Look, we have to get to class, otherwise Pansy and I are going to be late for Care of Magical Creatures with the Oaf." This bit of logic came from Millicent, whose voice was low enough in tone to nearly pass for a boy. The sounds of the girls filing out clued Hermione to the fact that it was safe to leave, and that she was running late for class, which she had with the Slytherins.
How was she going to face them without putting her fist in Pansy's face? She wasn't sure which was worse, the implication that she was an opportunistic slut or that the Slytherins were aware of her rude awakening this morning. And that didn't even touch on the comment Pansy made regarding Harry and Voldemort. By now, it was fair to say, she was itching for a fight.
Hermione washed her hands and face, noting the frown, and the clenched jaw reflected back at her from the mirror. She pulled out her wand and cast a cheering charm, strong enough to ease the sign of stress from her face without having her smiling like a demented clown. This moment was officially number twelve on her List of Woes.
Lucky number thirteen wasn't too far behind her mad dash to Hagrid's hut. Again, she'd made it just in time, but very out of breath, and a bit sore, as her bra was not offering adequate support for the sprint from the castle. Instead of standing with Ron and Harry, she opted to stand slightly apart, near the Forbidden forest, but still within listening range.
They were studying salamanders that week, observing and feeding them before Hagrid was due to harvest the blood for one of Professor Snape's advanced potions classes. Being the odd person out, and distanced enough from her fellow Gryffindors, she found herself partnered with an extremely unwilling Draco Malfoy. The expected 'Mudblood' remarks were uttered, followed by an, "I can only imagine what my father would say about this."
She ignored the mudblood insults, as they were fairly common and lacking in originality by now, but couldn't stop herself from retorting about his father. "Look Ferret, if you spend all your time waiting on daddy's approval and whim, you're never going to be much of a man. In fact, you'll be a perfect death eater, since that's all Voldemort wants his followers to do. Don't bother learning to think for yourself, it'll save you the pain of having him crucio you to break the habit."
They worked in silence from that point on, alternating turns between feeding peppercorns to their scarlet salamander and scratching notes out onto parchment. She'd just tossed a peppercorn into the cage when she was nudged. Her hand brushed the caged creature, scorching the tips of her fingers. "Malfoy, knock it off."
For once, the Malfoy heir actually looked innocent as she glared at him. It happened again, this time from her right, and clearly not his doing. She looked, unable to spot the source and felt confused. "What the..?"
Her unwitting partner looked up and seemingly spotted the disturbance. "You can't see them? Surprising since you spend so much time with Scarhead. Maybe when the Dark Lord gets him…"
"Shut-up Malfoy." She hissed, her mind making a connection, even has her comment drew unwanted attention. She couldn't see them, but she was being shoved around…because she was bleeding! Blood called them. Of all the misfortunes befalling her today, and now this, and then the great blond prat opened his mouth again, speaking loud enough for half the class to hear:
"Looks like Mudblood is dirtier than usual today. What's the matter, bleeding like a stuck pig? Who poked you Granger? Rumor has it that Saint Potter did the deed." He leered at her, smirking as her face flushed as red as their salamander.
For some reason, her cheering charm from the bathroom ceased working at that moment, and she saw red. She also heard the vicious laughter from a number of Slytherins who had overheard Draco's remarks. She didn't give much thought to her actions, and before she knew it, he was on the ground, blood streaming from his nose, and her knuckles stinging. No wonder he had Crabbe and Goyle do the physical work, that had hurt!
Now her dilemma was whether to run for the castle in embarrassment, or to the Forbidden Forest and let the beasts in it finish her off. This was, by far, the worst day she'd ever had to live through. She opted for the castle, brushing past both Ron and Harry who looked like they wanted to ask her why she socked Malfoy in his pretty-boy face. She didn't want to re-live the past few moments however, and kept running.
Harry watched his friend run past. Her face was red, and the beginnings of tears were bright in her eyes. He hadn't seen her cry since fifth year, right around OWLs. From what he could gather, she'd just landed a punch he would have paid to see up close and personally, yet she was crying. Surely it wasn't because of the ten points Hagrid docked, he had, after all, docked Slytherin twice as much for Malfoy instigating the situation. It was only a matter of minutes until the class was dismissed as Draco was escorted to the infirmary to have his nose fixed.
Then he heard Pansy laughing about Mudblood and her period, followed by Theodore Nott's speculation on some picture that Creevey had taken this morning. And it clicked, not as quickly as Hermione would have pieced it together, but he figured it out. The thestrals had been attracted by Hermione and her feminine odors. He was one of only five to see them today, the others being Hagrid, Neville, Nott and, oddly enough, Malfoy. Who had Malfoy seen die? But he pushed that mystery to the side, in favor of concern for his friend.
Small wonder that she was upset this morning. Ron had shared horror stories of Ginny's hormonally driven rampages during 'that time', and now the Slytherins knew such a personal bit of information about Hermione. Suddenly her going nutters over a stupid picture made sense. He'd just heard Nott imagining the state of undress his friend had been in, hadn't he? He really was naïve.
"Ron, what do you do when Ginny's having 'that time'?" He asked on the way back to the castle.
His friend looked at him as though he'd grown another head. "Besides hide?"
Harry smiled, "Yeah, there's got to be something that your mum does…" he trailed off.
"Umm, chocolate, and heating charms for the cramps." He replied, turning a bit green at the thought of 'girl problems'.
"Okay, your job is to get the charm from your sister at lunch."
"Why in the bloody hell would I do that?
"Hermione," Harry didn't feel the need to elaborate.
"Why would I do that when she nearly took my head off?" Ron sputtered.
"That's why she did, she's having a very bad day. How did you feel when the Slytherins sang their version of 'Weasley is our king'? They have something much more personal than an inability to block a quaffle to torment her with, not to mention some stuff that's completely wrong, and one of the more popular tales of the school."
"Nothing is as bad as having Malfoy make up a song about not being able to block a quaffle." He huffed a sigh at Harry's rolled eyes. "Oh fine, I'll do it. What are you doing then?"
"Quick trip to Honeyduke's courtesy of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, not to mention a little talk with Colin."
He missed History of Magic, but had several bars of chocolate ranging from white to special dark, and a bonus of six bottles of butterbeer, due to a side trip to the Three Broomsticks. It would be worth if it he could make Hermione feel better.
He'd even managed to catch Colin before dinner, paying five galleons to the fifth year for a copy of the pictures, the negatives, and a promise that no one else would see a hint of the photos taken. He'd also dissuaded the boy from taking any other photos implicating that he hand Hermione were in a relationship unless he had their express permission. He made a deal with the oldest Creevey about supplies for the developing potions required to make ordinary photos move, which was the only incentive he'd been given by the forth years to take the pictures in the first place.
To his dismay, Colin had agreed with an, "Anything for you Harry," that reminded him eerily of Dobby the house elf.
He met Ron for dinner, scanning the table for the honey-brown mop of hair, which was conspicuously missing. "Did she have lunch?"
"No, but Dobby said she came down for some cocoa and biscuits when I checked the kitchens."
"Did she show up for History?" Harry questioned.
"Five minutes late, not that Binns would have noticed. She sat in the back and ducked out before class was over. She was in her corner of the library up until I came for dinner, but I don't think she'll show. Oh, and Hedwig is back. This was delivered for you."
Harry turned the sealed missive over in his hands. It was addressed to 'Young Harry', and had to be from Lupin. He started loading his plate, planning to find Hermione and drag her to the common room. Fight or not, embarrassment or not, he needed her to be with him when he read this. If it was rejection, he'd need her strength, if it were otherwise, he wanted to share it with her.
"Did you get the charm from Ginny?"
"Yeah, here," Ron pulled a paper from his pocket, passing it to Harry, feeling a bit odd while doing so.
Harry thanked his dorm-mate, took his laden plate, and headed to the Gryffindor tower. To his surprise, Hermione was there, looking absolutely miserable, as if she hadn't a single friend in the world. She looked up at his entrance, and then stood, preparing to leave.
"Hermione, no…sit. Don't leave."
Her eyes watered, "Harry, I…I'm sorry." She began.
"I know Hermione, it's okay. I understand." He shoved the plate at her. "Ron said that you didn't show up for lunch, and I know you weren't at breakfast or dinner. You need to eat."
"Yeah, well, you skived off History of Magic." She accused.
"And you were late. Anyway, it was for a good cause, trust me." He said.
"It's never good to…"
"Hermione, leave off the worrying about me. Come upstairs where the gossips won't find you and talk. I promise that Seamus won't say a word to Lavender later…"
She grabbed the plate, weary of any surprises in store for her. She'd had enough unexpected unpleasantness all ready. But she was pleasantly surprised by the bottle of butterbeer shoved in her hand, and even more so when Harry upended a bag of chocolate onto the bed with a, "Pick your poison."
She didn't need any further urging, and snatched up a bar of milk chocolate. She unwrapped it and took a bite, moaning in pure bliss. Harry cast the charm Ron passed to him earlier, mentioning that, "it worked for Ginny," before smiling sheepishly. "This morning's pictures have also been handled. The only person who will see them is me…well, me and Colin when he develops them, but I've arranged for the negatives and discouraged a repeat of this mornings attempt at photo journalism."
And once again, Hermione found her eyes watering, "Thank you, sorry, over-emotional, but thank you!" she laughed in a way that sounded more like gasping and wiped at her eyes. "You have no idea what I heard today," she sobbed.
"I'm afraid to ask if it put you in this state." He replied, which oddly enough caused her to giggle a little. "I got a letter from Lupin, I think."
"You think?"
"Well, I haven't opened it yet."
"Why ever not?"
"I was a bit more concerned with being here for you."
"You've been here for me, now open the letter!"
"You just want to know what it says."
"Yep."
"Know-It-All."
"Yep."
Reviews: Thanks to all the readers of course, reviews or not!
BrennaM- I'll be sure to stock fluffy pillows with pointy corners just so that you'll be shaking in your boots! And so help me, I'll dig out the bag of stale marshmallows to throw at you should you actually carry through on a review with an evil cliffie! I love Remus too, and I have a feeling that Harry will find some camaraderie with our werewolf as time goes on. And I agree that Remus is much more suitable in the parental role as compared with Sirius. What in the world were Lily and James thinking anyway? Heheheh…
Rane2920072- Yeah, I get the pleasure of writing about Draco and Hermione and their…erm…relationship. Hopefully I'll be able to do it justice when the time comes. I'm glad you liked the chapter.
xxx-kisses-xxx- blush Brenna's the brilliant one; it was her story that sparked my imagination, that and the fact that I was too impatient to wait for her to finish the first story before getting to the prequel. I'm glad that you think they mesh, that's ultimately what I'm going for. I was a bit nervous about writing Remus cause I like his character a lot even though we don't see him much in JKR's books. I hope I continue to do the character's justice as the story progresses. Oh, and welcome aboard the "Get BrennaM" fan club!
Ashibabi- Thanks! Yeah, I guess a letter like that would be a bit daunting, but I'm thinking that it's more the formal tone that's a bit off-putting. Harry will understand the parts that are most important to him, and eventually we'll move on from the "woe is Harry" to the "what is our near-death adventure for this year" in the story line. Ohhh… Blunt sporks! Great idea!
Raspberri13- I'm glad you think so... Thanks for reviewing!
I'll probably post Chapter 5 in the next couple of days as it continues where this chapter left off.