Chapter Three

One Good Joke Deserves Another

It was rare to see Hermione so angry, but Ron and Harry knew she was pretty much deadly when pissed off, and she was looking livid—much angrier than they'd ever seen her, even more so than when she'd slapped Draco in their third year. She didn't even notice that her robe had slipped off her shoulder when Fred had kissed her and was showing her bra strap, or that her hair looked rather bizarre and a lot fluffier from Fred's fingers in it, or that her pale pink lip gloss was smeared. She wouldn't speak at all during potions, and by the time the class ended she looked rather weary and drained.

"Hermione…" Harry began as they headed to the Great Hall.

"What?" she said harshly.

"Everyone will forget about it soon, don't worry," Harry told her, trying to comfort her. Ron nodded emphatically.

Hermione laughed hollowly. "They might have, Harry, if Snape hadn't kept the class over and I'd just decked Fred before everyone showed up. The Slytherins—and Lavender and Parvati—are going to be talking about it for ages now. Not only was there an argument and Fred acting perfectly innocent, but he kissed me. He kissed me in front of Snape, Harry!"

"Come on, 'Mione, you know Fred. He was just milking the crowd, like always. Everyone will forget soon," Ron said.

"He kissed me!" she wailed again. "EW!"

"It couldn't have been that bad," Ron said sulkily, "it lasted ages—OW!" Harry had elbowed him hard in the ribs.

Hermione moaned and trudged into the Great Hall, whispers and jeers following the three of them. They didn't see Fred, which was lucky for him, because Hermione had started muttering a list of incantations for gruesome curses under her breath when a Ravenclaw boy called out something incredibly suggestive.

Harry and Ron tried to get her to talk about Quidditch and homework but she would hardly say a word, listlessly picking at her dinner. It was only when George Weasley came up behind Harry and Ron and said "Um… Hermione?" that she looked up.

Harry and Ron ducked, arms over their heads, as Hermione leapt to her feet and drew her wand with the speed of an Auror. "It's George, I'm George!" he yelled, flinging up his hands protectively. "I come in peace!"

There were loud laughs from all around the hall. Hermione sat down, her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. "What do you want?" she snarled.

"Um…" George lowered his arms. "Listen… Fred says he's sorry. And… and…"

Ron saw his older brother's face twitch as George tried to keep down a smile. Uh-oh, he thought.

"Yes?" Hermione prompted, her eyes narrowed.

"And that you're a good kisser," George said with an evil grin.

Hermione chased him clear out of the hall.

"Hey, Hermione, when's the wedding?"

"Why would anyone consider dating you? Paying him, are you, Granger?"

Comments ranging from "You go, girl!" to "Whore!" followed Hermione wherever she went over the next several days. Fred and George avoided the common room like the plague, and Lee always sat far from her when he wasn't hiding with them, his eyes darting to her nervously while she glared but didn't attack.

Harry and Ron told her a dozen times a day that it would pass, but they didn't seem too convinced themselves. Hermione and Fred were the most talked-about couple at Hogwarts, and their "breakup" caused even more gossip.

Three days after the scene outside the potions classroom, Lavender and Parvati sat down at Harry, Ron and Hermione's table. Hermione glared at them, but they stared back, unperturbed. "Hermione," Lavender said, "when are you going to make amends with Fred?"

"I'm telling you," Hermione snapped, her teeth so clenched that it was a wonder she could speak at all, "that there IS no Fred. WE WERE NEVER DATING."

"Sure," Parvati said, rolling her eyes, "he was just bringing you an extra pillow."

"I TOLD YOU—" Hermione began hotly, but Lavender cut her off.

"Look, you don't have to explain anything to us," she interrupted. "But you're ruining a relationship just because of one stupid fight about nothing at all. I don't know why you tried to keep it secret, anyway. We were bound to find out. You always stayed up really late, and when you did come into the dormitory you were always really tired. It doesn't take a genius, you know. You've obviously been shagging him for ages."

Harry and Ron were trying very hard to keep a straight face. Hermione opened her mouth, closed it, and started banging her forehead on the table loudly.

"Miss Granger, a word, please," Professor McGonagall said at the end of Transfiguration. Hermione waved at Harry and Ron to go on without her and headed up to the teacher's desk. "It has come to my attention," McGonagall said sternly, "that Fred Weasley was in your dormitory, and I must say, I expected better—"

"Not you too!" Hermione moaned, hitting both fists against McGonagall's desk in frustration.

McGonagall gaped at her, taken aback by the interruption. "I beg your pardon?"

"Professor, Fred found me sleeping in the common room and carried me upstairs," Hermione said. "Nothing happened, but Parvati and Lavender saw him leaving and I tried to tell them the truth but he thought it was funny and…" She trailed off, sighing miserably. McGonagall probably wouldn't believe her, either.

McGonagall, to her surprise, chuckled. "Ah, I see. And Mr. Weasley played the crowd, so to speak?" Hermione nodded. "Well, then, Miss Granger, I suggest you do something about it."

"I've tried; no one believes me."

"No, not about the rumors," McGonagall said, her eyes twinkling. "About Mr. Weasley."

"What?"

"Gossip isn't important, girl, don't put so much stock in reversing it. But if I were you, I wouldn't let Mr. Weasley have all the fun, do you understand?"

Hermione's eyes lit up. Revenge, and in a way that wouldn't get her in detention or land her in Azkaban. Now that was an idea…

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said slowly. "I hadn't thought of that."

McGonagall favored her with a rare smile. "If there's one thing I learned when I was at Hogwarts—and it's largely thanks to James Potter and his crew—it's that one good joke deserves another."