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The next morning, Hermione woke up; happily unaware of what had happened the night before. She sang brightly in the shower, and tried fruitlessly to do something to her unmanageable hair. She quickly abandoned her attempt, and went back into her dormitory humming softly to herself. She quickly stopped as she saw Lavender Brown sitting on her bed, swinging her legs with a wicked grin.
"So…" Lavender laughed maliciously, "Hermione Granger has lost her love once again. The 'I hate you' was a nice touch you know. I think you've screwed it up even more than I could have hoped."
Hermione was ready to retaliate with a comment of 'wouldn't you like that' when she realized that Lavender had hit the nail on the head. She had screwed it up. A voice in the back of her head wondered vaguely why Lavender was so pleased with Hermione's deed of messing things up with Ron. Ron had dumped Lavender the year before, and from what Hermione had heard, he wasn't ever thinking of taking her back.
She shook off the feeling of foreboding at the look of triumph on Lavender's face, grabbed her bag, and stalked down the stairs to go to breakfast.
Upon reaching the Great Hall, she faced the dilemma of where to sit. She decided on an empty seat at the end of the table. However, in choosing that chair, it meant she would have to walk right past Ron. She took a deep breath, and walked determinately past, head held high, until she reached the empty seat. Had she stopped to look at Ron, she would have noticed a giggling Lavender sitting practically on his lap, while he looked disconcerted.
Hermione, having practice at eating alone, sat down, poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice, grabbed two slices of toast, and opened the latest addition to her book collection: Spellbound: A Study of Some of the Most Interesting Witches of This Age. She had just gotten to the chapter on Carolotta Pinkstone, when she felt someone eyes on her. She marked her place and closed the book, stuffing it back in her bag.
"What do you want Ron?" she asked simply, not bothering to turn around.
"Ah…how did you know it was me?" he inquired wonderingly.
"Anyone else would have simply come over, instead of standing behind me for three minutes, hoping I wouldn't notice." Hermione's ability to know what Ron had actually been doing was a bit unnerving, and he stood there awkwardly, hands in his pockets, searching for what to say next.
"Er…well…I…" Ron mumbled quietly, hoping that she knew what he was trying to say.
Hermione turned to face him. "Seriously Ron, just spit it out; what are you trying to say?" Obviously not.
"What I'm trying to say is…" he trailed off, looking so pathetic that Hermione almost wanted to forgive him. But then, she remembered the fight the night before, and kept her stony glare fixated on her face. "Shit Hermione, I can see you aren't going to make this easy for me." And he walked resignedly back to his seat next to Harry, luckily having been abandoned by Lavender, and drank his entire goblet of juice in one gulp.
Her heart was yelling at Hermione for letting him walk away; 'He was trying to apologize, why can't you just accept that and let him back?' But the more rational side was telling her that if he couldn't come right out and say it, it meant he really didn't mean he was sorry, and if she befriended him once more this would just happen again.
Feeling that today would be a very long one, Hermione picked up her bag and walked out of the Great Hall towards Transfiguration. She liked to go early to this class, to find out what they would be doing, and get a head start on the reading. Professor McGonagall was used to her coming in, and didn't even look up from her papers when Hermione opened the door, and went to sit at her favorite desk; the one third from the left in the second row. It gave her a good view of the blackboard, and she could observe what was going on around her. It was the perfect seat to watch the day's events unfold.
After about twenty minutes, the rest of the class entered, and sat down at their respected seats, Harry sittingtwo seatsaway from Hermione, and Ron next to him. The whole time McGonagall was talking, she could see Ron with her peripheral vision stealing glances at her, and she looked determinately forward and pretended to be deeply immersed with what McGonagall was saying about transfiguring large animals.
Their assignment for the day was to transfigure a Labrador into a teapot. Hermione didn't see how that would ever be any use, but set right ahead to do it anyways. Thirty minutes later, most of the class had succeeded in turning their dogs into china; all except Ron.
"Weasley, you've got to put your mind into it. You've got to concentrate." Hermione could hear McGonagall reprimanding him, as transfiguring animals was something they had done in sixth year.
Ron just sat there, shaking his head sadly. Professor McGonagall told him he would have to do an extra essay about how concentration was an essential part of Transfiguration.
After class was over, Hermione headed to the library, as she had a free period. After settling herself at her favorite table; the one in the far end of the library next to the books on troll wars, she pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, and decided to start on her homework. She was just beginning the topic sentence for her History of Magic essay on The Great Werewolf Revolution of 1684, when Harry sat down across from her, and simply looked at her.
"What?" she asked. The look on his face was disconcerting, and she didn't know what her friend could possibly have in mind to make him look this way.
"I know something you don't know."
"Wonderful; way to be specific. I know something you don't either. The Werewolf Revolution of 1684 was started by Rowan Bolden." Hermione replied simply.
"That was something I didn't know, nor something I wished to know." Harry groaned.
"Well don't come in here and expect me to guess." Hermione smiled.
"I will only tell you if you make up with Ron." It was Hermione's turn to groan.
"Harry, I will do no such thing. He is the one at fault here, not me. And besides, if I do, you will probably just tell me something stupid, like what Hedwig had for dinner yesterday."
"Dang it, you figured it out." Harry said playfully. "But seriously Hermione, this is our last year at Hogwarts, you've got to make it the best, and with you and Ron fighting all the time, well, can't you just make up and let us have some peace?"
"Harry, I wish it were just that simple, but saying I'm sorry won't necessarily fix anything. It's just the way we are I suppose. I really wish we weren't this way; you have no idea how much I wish we weren't, but I suppose there are just some things you have no control over, no matter how hard you wish." Hermione stated simply, packing up her things and putting them back in her bag.
She left the library thinking hard, not noticing a red haired figure rounding the corner, lost in thought also. She didn't notice until they crashed head on into each other. She hit her head against his bony shoulder, and his bag crashed to the floor, the contents spilling everywhere.
When Hermione realized exactly who she had crashed into, she jumped up quickly, mumbled a quick "Sorry," and hurried down the corridor clutching her head.
Ron sat up slowly and watched her round the corner, a wistful look in his eyes, then started to gather up his papers and clean up the spilt ink that lay in puddles around the floor.
The only sound he heard was the slamming of a classroom door.