Chapter 4- Perfect Little Lie

Hermione woke up bright and early on Friday morning to the sight of Hedwig sitting on her windowsill. She took Harry's letter from her and unfurled it. He didn't give too much detail, but from what she could pick out things were as good as could be expected. He had pretty much been under house arrest for the past month, which had left him with a lot of time to brood.

Hermione worried about him- he had dealt with far more in his first fifteen years than most people should have to in a lifetime. She wanted to help him, to see how he was coping with Sirius, but restrictions meant that all she could do was send and equally vague reply. She felt so guilty that she couldn't do more- he couldn't even come to visit because it was just too much of a risk.

She woke Ron up and passed on Harry's news. She loved getting him up in the mornings- he looked so vulnerable and cute when he was curled up underneath the duvet. She despaired at her own thoughts- she was being hopelessly girly, and if anyone else had expressed these thoughts to her she would have laughed in their face. Love was turning her mind to gunge!

Despite her best efforts both she and Ron had been invited to Fliss's birthday party, and not showing up wasn't an option. She hated parties- they were invariably filled with childish games and immature behaviour. She would have been far more content to stay at home with Ron for a chat. She loved chatting with him, not only because of what he had to say, but also because of how he looked when he said it- the way he tilted his head to one side whenever he asked a question, the way he clicked his tongue when he couldn't think of a word, his "I know! Tell me about it!" face. She could tell him anything.

Well, almost anything. There had been one awkward moment when he had asked he what she thought of Jake. She hadn't known what to say- should she insult him completely, so Ron knew she definately didn't like him, or would that be too transparent? In the end she had gone for the middle road, said in what she hoped was a fairly carefree tone. She couldn't look him in the eye when she said it, though- she didn't trust herself not to show that she was lying.

Breakfast didn't go too well. She had started writing a reply to Harry whilst making toast, and by the time that she had remembered it had turned char-black. They had cereal instead, and a lively debate arose over the merits of Cheerios versus Cornflakes. They had then taken a walk to the shops to get some groceries, and had returned home with a stack of extra junk that Ron had insisted on buying. He had spent the remainder of his morning working his way through a cacophony of junk food, whilst she watched disapprovingly.

Needless to say, he hadn't wanted any lunch. She had pretended to be angry with him, but in fact she found it amusing and (dare she say it?) quite cute. Sometimes Ron reminded her of a small child- so cheerful and unconcerned about the consequences of his actions (sometimes Ron reminded her of a small child because he acted like a sulky, temper-tantrum holding toddler, but that wasn't what she was thinking about). Common sense would have told most people that a barrel of junk food wouldn't please the stomach, but it hadn't stopped Ron. It tended to be his attitude to many things- act first, think later. Or, in this case- act first, puke later.

Hermione's nose wrinkled at the distastefulness of her own thoughts. She looked at her watch- 4:30. She would have to get ready for Fliss's party. She didn't particularly want to go- it somewhat spoiled her almost perfect day.

Ron watched Hermione from across the room. She looked very bored. He didn't blame her- parties weren't really either of their scenes, and this party was particularly dull. Fliss's friends, aside from Chas, the twins and co, pretty much divided into two groups- rich, pretty girls with designer miniskirts and bored faces, or large, loud guys called Johnno and Mickey, who spent their time either leering at aforementioned rich pretty snobs, or rugby tackling each other. No-one was speaking to Ron, apart from Chas, Hermione and at one point Jake. He furiously ignored that wanker, though. He was just palling up to him so that he could get closer to Hermione.

Ron looked at Hermione again- she had scrubbed up very nicely indeed. She had beaten the fear of God into her hair, which was placid for the moment, and she was wearing a pair of black trousers and a red top made of weird shimmery material which really suited her. Ron felt slightly scabby in his beaten up old jeans and T-shirt- Hermione looked so glamorous and lovely compared to him. He could see why Jake couldn't keep his eyes off of her; she was easily the most beautiful thing in the room.

Chas had strutted across the room, and was now talking rapidly to Fliss. She had an empty bottle under stuck under her arm. Fliss was nodding back, and then the volume of the music decreased. Chas began to speak, her nasal tones ringing throughout the large room.

"Okay everyone! Time for Spin the Bottle!"

There were a mixtures of cheers and groans from the assorted crowds. Hermione looked as though she was seriously considering making a break for the door. Ron was confused- Spin the Bottle? He stopped a passing girl and asked her how the game was played. She gave him the "What planet are you from?" look that he had grown so accustomed to during his week at Hermione's, before explaining-

"Basically, you sit in a circle, and someone spins the bottle, and whoever the bottle points at, they have to kiss."

Ron raised his eyebrows. Was that all? It didn't sound like a particularly fun game to him. He had a sudden horrible thought- what if someone had to kiss Hermione? The thought of someone else's lips on hers made him want to kick something very hard. It was not a nice thought.

However, it appeared that participation in the game wasn't optional- Chas was guarding the doors and forcefully redirecting anyone who attempted to make strategically timed use of the exits. He sat down next to Vicki, who moved several feet away from him, as though he was infectious. The game started. Ron watched Hermione from the other side of the circle, holding his breath as the bottle approached her, and exhaling as it passed. He was growing so tense that he could feel his pulse as the blood pumped through him. Surely, he thought, even if it does land on her, she'll say no? This is Hermione, after all- she wouldn't stand for this kind of nonsense. She's not that sort of girl. Even with these reassurances, one thought filled his entire mind- please don't be her… please don't be her… please don't be her…

It was Jake's turn to spin. He took the bottle and whirled it around so quickly that it was a blur. It began to slow down, slower and slower until it was barely moving. Ron saw it pass Debbie, Louis, Josie… it was almost at Hermione. Just a few more inches, he thought desperately as it trickled past her, just a few more centimetres and it'll be Fliss who kisses him.

But alas, it was not to be. The bottle froze on Hermione, who blushed a furious shade of scarlet. Ron's hands were clenched into tiny fists as Jake lent across the circle to reach Hermione. Why isn't she refusing? Ron thought. Why isn't she telling him no? Maybe she isn't the girl I thought she was. Slowly Hermione tilted her head towards his cheek, but Jake put his arms around her neck and pulled her into a full on, mouth to mouth clinch.

The few seconds of the kiss lasted forever in Ron's mind. He watched in the slow motion of fury as they pulled away from one another, Hermione's face glowing ruby-red with embarrassment. The circle cheered as they sat back in their places. Hermione looked embarrassed, certainly, but there wasn't a glimmer of disgust or anger on her face. Not that it mattered- Ron was feeling enough of those emotions to cover a small city for several months. He couldn't sit there any longer, looking at Jake's smug face and thinking about what he had done… what they had done. No doubt Jake was intending to make their relationship official. Well, Ron didn't intend to be there to see it. He was going…

He excused himself from the game and walked out into the grand hallway of the Dawood's house. He collected his jacket, his mind filled with blank but very angry thoughts. It hadn't fully hit him yet- the girl he loved, his Hermione, liked another guy, and he was supposed to be okay with this, to sit and watch that wanker slobber all over her, without saying a word? It'd be a cold day in hell before that happened…

"Ron!" a voice called from behind him. Ron spun around to see Jake running towards him. "Where you going?"

"I don't feel like staying," Ron replied coolly, desperately trying to restrain the urge to punch his lights out. He didn't suppose that doing that would do anything to lower Jake in Hermione's estimations. All it would mean was that Jake would get to play the wounded hero, and Hermione would spend her time fussing and cooing over him. However, the punching would make him feel better. It was a fine balance.

"Look, mate," Jake said, with an uncomfortable smile, "is there something going on between you and Hermione? Because I really like her, and I sort of got the impression that she liked me too, but if you've already got designs on her I don't want to tread on your toes."

The thought struck Ron in an instant. It was so simple. So obvious. It would stop Jake from making a move on Hermione, and by the time he found out to the contrary, it would be too late. Ron would have already made his move. One simple, easy lie was all it would take. Jake couldn't date Hermione because-

"She's my girlfriend."