-1Hermione rushed down from her lessons, only slightly breath taken, to get to the Quidditch Pitch. In the distance Harry and Ron could be seen; Harry was easily identified as the one catching the quaffle, whereas she could recognise the desperate form of Ron waving his limbs around in a vain attempt to catch it. She sighed. Ah, Ron. She'd have to be careful around him; she didn't want him finding out. If that ever happened, she might well consider suicide. After writing a final letter that splayed all her innermost feelings all over the page, so that the rumours could be proven wrong and he would live in guilt for the rest of his life, always remembering her, of course. Then she could think of the method she would use to kill herself.

She climbed into the stands and watched contentedly, her thoughts once again drifting into those nice little dreams she enjoyed, until she noticed how dark it was, and that Ron and Harry were no longer flying around in the air.

Gasping, she realised she must have dozed off in her own happy thoughts, and she gathered her bags about her in a panic. Turning around, a copy of Majik Moste Potent in her hand, she nearly jumped out of her skin as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Surprise!" Said Harry cheerfully. He and Ron were already out of their Quidditch gear.

"You were miles away. You weren't even watching." Ron said, but she noticed a hint of amusement in his voice. Still, she had to keep the act up. She snarled at him.

"And if I was? Well, maybe I don't find Quidditch as educationally stimulating as you two do!"

"Maybe you were dreaming of someone," Harry snickered. Hermione had always thought he might know something…

"You take that back!" Ron glared at Hermione, having ignored Harry's comment. "Quidditch is much better than your smarmy little Let's-Swot-Up-On-My-Knowledge-Even-Though-My-Brain-Could-Fill-Two-Buses classes!"

Ron and Hermione had been circling each other with dangerous glints in their eyes, and when Hermione heard this she didn't even bother with magic - she jumped on him ferociously, clawing at his face and then finally, pushing him away from her. It wasn't her fault that she forgot he was at the edge of the stand. Or that physically harming people was against school rules. Or that, between the ground and the top of the stand, there was a fifty foot drop. It's not something you think about when you're angry, as Hermione experienced.

Oops, she thought vaguely as Ron plummeted towards the ground.

XXX

"Ms Granger - I have never seen or heard of such ferocious and uncalled for behaviour! Never have I seen something like that!"

Something in Hermione felt quite rebellious that night, and she glared up at Professor McGonagall. "You didn't see it, Miss. It was Madam Hooch who saw me, and if she'd have been listening in on our conversation, she would have joined in kicking him."

Actually, she very much doubted that, seeing as Madam Hooch was the Quidditch Teacher, but it sounded good put like that.

Professor McGonagall thinned her lips and a familiar foreboding glint in her eye appeared to view. "I do not expect cheek from you in these circumstances, Ms Granger! Nothing Mr Weasley could have said should have caused a reaction like that. I accept all friends have their fall-outs, but…"

Hermione drifted off slightly there.

But we haven't fallen out, you old hag, can't you see? I don't hate Ron, I love him. And what I did was for his own good! And if he doesn't watch out, he'll get more of it. So by the time I've finished with him, it'll be ALL of his limbs in bloody splints…

"…Ms Granger? Are you even listening?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes, Miss. You expect me in detention tomorrow, where I'll be expected to turn various animals into baubles and that kind of thing. I'm never to do anything like this and if I do the-punishment-will-be-much-worse-and-you-are-very-disappointed-in-me-and-did-not-in-your-wildest-dreams-expect-this-kind-of-behaviour-from-me."

Her wildest dreams never probably go past the fascination of transfiguring baubles, thought Hermione dryly as she said this.

Professor McGonagall looked down reprovingly. "It does amaze me how you remember these things," she said, almost to herself. "Anyway, you may go to the Hospital Wing, as long as you aren't carrying anything sharp?"

Hermione sighed to herself and took the knife out of her cloak pocket and handed it over to Professor McGonagall. Really, did no one understand? She only did these things because she loved him.

Trotting down the corridor, alone, Hermione found that her nerves became less fractious. She no longer wanted to kill Ron for so obviously rejecting her; it had just been an argument. A silly little argument, and maybe she had jumped to the wrong conclusions. But she couldn't have him hating her. That couldn't happen; she wouldn't let it happen. She just wanted him to realise how she felt. Why couldn't he make the first move? It wasn't fair. She had to do all the work. She even had to his homework! Well, she didn't strictly have to, and he only asked her a few times every couple of months, but really, it was so atrocious that someone had to correct it for him!

Madam Pomfrey looked at her doubtfully as she marched into the Hospital Wing and flumped down onto Ron's bed. At first he looked slightly scared, and then that usual monotonous look slipped into his eyes, as if she really didn't care that she was there and yes, he was going to ignore her.

"Look, Ron. I'm really sorry about what happened earlier. I mean… it was fifty feet up, and, well, I wasn't really concentrating…"

Silence.

"I've just had a mouthful from McGonagall, and well, I was just thinking that I'm sorry…"

Silence.

"Oh, come on, Ron! It was an accident!"

"You jumped on me, Hermione!" Said Ron angrily. "I don't think that was an accident. Or did the forces of gravity suddenly go away from where you were standing and friction just kind of became non existent to you just HAD to jump on me?"

"I wasn't talking about that! I meant it was an accident that you fell, and that really, I am sorry!"

Please, please be my friend again. Or, you could just hug me. That would be good. I'll go with either…

"Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to stew in my own juice for a bit." He said moodily, jerking his head in the other direction. Hermione sat hopelessly at the end of the bed, biting her lip in anxiety. But to her utter relief, Ron spoke again.

"What were you thinking about, anyway?"

The relief didn't last for long.

"Oh, er, um… Arithmancy, actually. Fascinating subject, don't you think? Numbers. Lots of them. They're nearly as good as letters are, I mean… um, they're a lot harder of course… the alphabet is easy… but, uh, yes. Numbers. They're really…"

"Educationally stimulating?" Snorted Ron.

Hermione felt like she could hit him.

XXX

That night, Hermione wrote in her diary. There were hundreds more of pages similar to the one she was writing now, but this time, she was putting some of the previous suggestions into action. Of course, she used them all the time. She liked Ron… she liked him a lot, as was obvious from her muddled thought, but he couldn't half be annoying. She supposed it was all part of the 'love-hate' mentality.

Ways to Catch ? (No way was she going leave her diary unprotected for Lavender to read, and even with all the security precautions on it, she still wasn't going to give it away).

Reverse Psychology. Boys like girls who play hard to get.

- Go out with someone else. If I can get someone to go out with me. See if jealousy works.

- Send him anonymous gifts.

- Wait for him to make the first move. Buy a suspiciously unusual Christmas present for him, not the usual Homework diary. Give Harry the annual one just the same.

- Start wearing copious amounts of eyeliner and lipstick.

- Commit suicide. Pre-death, write that note I thought of earlier.

- Tempt him by wearing an extremely low-cut dress with a very short pleated skirt and fishnet tights during the holidays.

Hermione frowned down at some of them. No way would anyone get her into fishnet tights. But some of them were reasonable, and her brain would work its magic throughout the night and surely she'd wake with a master plan. For now, however, she put her diary away, and got into bed.

Lavender smirked. "News gets around fast, Hermione. So, you chucked Ron Weasley off the stands? Why?"

"Because he was a pig and he deserved it." Hermione said truthfully.

"Sure it's not 'cause you like him?"

"I've never been surer, Lavender," smiled Hermione. Just a little white lie. It couldn't hurt anyone.

A/N: Long chapter for me, but I hope you enjoyed it. Now… review! Mwahahah.