'The Plan'
Chapter II

.x.

After entering the seventh year dorms, shutting the door and dumping two crying girls on her bed, Pansy Parkinson situated high and tall before them, both of her hands on her hips. She scowled, "What the hell is going on? What's with all this nonsense blubbering and facing Potter, Nott, Malfoy and Grant?"

Hermione sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Who's Grant?" she asked wearily.

For the millionth time that day, Pansy looked bemused. "Ronald Grant? Malfoy's cousin? Spawn of the devil himself?"

Ginny grunted. "Spawn of the devil," she mumbled, "my brother, Ron."

"Your brother, Ron?" Pansy inquired, staggered. "What is going on! I'm your best friend! I should have every right to know what's happening! I can help you, you know!" she rambled irritably. "Whatever problems you have, you should know to come to me! Bloody hell, I'm missing a muggle assembly, which I was fascinated by, to stay up here with you two loons!"

"You won't believe us if we told you," Ginny voiced, putting on a cool façade. She was sick and tired of wailing like a child and right now, what Hermione needed was her endless support.

Pansy raised a blonde eyebrow. "Try me."

Hermione glanced out the window and spotted a bright mass of red hair. Her eyes instantaneously filled up with another round of tears. "Your name is Pansy Parkinson and you're a pureblood Slytherin. You are infatuated with Draco Malfoy and here, in Hogwarts, you're maimed the school harlot. You hop around from duvet to duvet, prowling on the men who desire your body. You do all this, because, although you may be detached, you are in love with Malfoy."

"My brother's name is Ronald Billius Weasley," Ginny said aloud. "We have five other brothers and we live in a small house in the countryside. Ronald speaks when his mouth is full, helps when it is not needed and turns away when you ask for him." A small smile appeared on her face. "He sings lullabies to our little cousins and he saves his money to buy me new robes." Fighting the tears that were threatening to fall, she whispered, "I miss him."

Pansy sat in-between them, patient and silent. "I'm going to rest here and listen to everything you have to tell me. I'm going to listen to every word you have to say. And when you're finished, I will only believe the phrases that will seep from your mouths. Don't lie to me," she ordered gently. "I've never lied to you."

.x.

"Can you believe those chits?" Harry whispered over to Ron, who lounged lazily in his seat. "Sliding up to us as if we'd give them the time of day."

Ron threw him a sluggish look and shrugged. "It's over. Forget it. They were dense, end of story."

Harry growled. "And that Granger," he said her name as if it was the plague itself, "reprimanding you for speaking to Weasley that way. She's intolerable."

Stretching high in his seat, Ron peered over the heads before him and onto the stage. "I hope this muggle assembly is interesting."

"Are you even listening, mate?" Harry asked.

"Nope," Ron replied, distracted.

Harry sighed in impatience. "I mean," he continued, as if Ron never spoke, "who does she think she is? She's a Mudblood for Circe's sake! She was born into impurity and she had the impudence to speak to me? Her and that unattractive straight hair. Those gleaming hazel eyes that seem to stop you in your step and strangle you."

Draco waved a dismissive hand, listening in on the conversation. "Granger wasn't the only bloody trollop. The screws in Weasley's head have apparently gone loose. I'm beginning to think that being a Muggle-lover and underprivileged isn't the only thing she is. She's gone mad in the brain."

"I don't know what you two chaps are rambling about," Theodore voiced, "but, I personally find Granger and Weasley both very appealing and very striking."

"You know what I think?" Ron growled in disturbance. "I think you three fairies should shut your bloody gobs and let me see the goddamn assembly!"

Ronald's voice was so deafening, that many of the students mistook it for the roar of a lion, or some other savage beast. Several of the Hufflepuff girls squeaked in fear.

Theodore rolled his eyes. "Touchy, touchy," he commented.

.x.

Luna's face contorted into what looked like revulsion, fury and fright. "You want me to do what!" she inquired doubtfully.

Pansy grinned feebly and backed away. "Luna, we really need your help with this. Hermione's got to speak with Grant and I'm afraid that if she doesn't," Pansy glanced at the earnest Hermione, "she might just break down."

"Why do I have to do this!" she screeched. "Why not Millie!"

Three hours, one lunch and one outburst after the assembly, all five Gryffindor girls plopped themselves under a large, oak tree by the lake.

Ginny grabbed Luna by the shoulder, fortitude in her eyes, and simply stated, "Bullstrode doesn't have what you have." She paused and looked at Millie. "No offense, Bullstrode, but Luna's got enough chest for the five of us."

Luna blushed madly. "It's not like I asked for them, you know," she mumbled, zippering up her jumper.

"But, you're grateful you've been bestowed them," Hermione retorted, a teasing smirk on her lips.

"So, Luna," Pansy said, "will you do it?"

Reluctantly, she nodded. "Yeah. Just tell me what I need."

.x.

Hermione bit her lip anxiously just inside a hidden corridor. She stood by a tiny window, staring out into the grass at Luna, Pansy, Millie and Ginny. All four feigned conversation, but Hermione knew what they were about to perform.

Ronald and Theodore just sat a couple of feet away from them, perched on a green, velvet cloak. Ron was idly eating an apple and Theodore scoped out many of the giggling girls surrounding them.

Making a swift move, Ron stood up and patted his clothing, motioning for Theodore to follow him back into the castle. "Let's go," he stated brusquely, stalking away, his head held high.

Hermione's eyes widened in panic as Theodore rose up. "Come on, Luna," she whispered. "Don't let him leave with Ron."

Luna's head immediately snapped to their direction, as if she heard Hermione's pleas. Noticing his movements, Luna laughed at the top of her voice, catching his full attention. She smiled broadly, almost teasingly, as she slowly ran her fingers down her chest to her jumper zipper.

Theodore's eyes stayed fixated on her hands, as they seductively pulled the zipper down, her contained bosoms coming free.

"Theodore!" Ron bellowed, at the doors already. "Are you coming!"

Theodore waved a flippant hand. "Go without me," he instructed. "I'm busy."

He, then, sauntered over to a now nervous Luna, his face set in a mischievous grin.

.x.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione quickly tore herself away from the window and towards the direction in which Ronald would soon arrive. Her palms were soaked with sweat and all she could do was stand there, hoping and praying that her logic would somehow bring him to her.

Upon hearing loud, brisk footsteps, Hermione snapped her head up and hid behind a large tapestry. He neared her and way before he could react – before he could even catch his breath – Hermione tugged him into the deserted passage and pushed him up against the wall.

"I know what you're thinking," Hermione said abruptly.

"Granger?" Ron asked, disdainfully. "Ugh, not you again."

Hermione refused to cry. "You will listen to me good, Ronald Weasley. What I have to say is very important and completely mental, but I only hope you'll absorb it with a clear mind."

"Get off me!" Ron bellowed, shoving her to the adjacent wall.

Hermione hit the concrete with a smack, her hair flying into her face. She screeched painfully and sank to the ground – thoughts of Ronald and her plan disappearing. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes to the beautiful material of her robe. Her sobs did nothing to stop the red-head from scoffing and leaving her there, not a care in the world.

"Why?" she asked herself, fisting a large portion of her robe and stuffing her red face into it. "Why did it have to be us?"

Prior to all this madness – to all the craziness that ensued – Hermione was a happy teenage girl. She harbored the love of her boyfriend, Ron, and the care of her best friends, Harry and Ginny. There may have been bumps along the way, but after each sickening mishap, she always found her way home. It doesn't matter what you do or how you do it – who you're with or who you refuse to see – life always seems to take you back to where you started from. You end up in that same spot - free of the drama filled past and free of the ties that held you down.

You were free.

And when that time came, Hermione would smile openly and thank the Gods that she finally reached the point in her life where she can laugh at any stupid joke, cry at any silly movie, and be blissful at any romantic moment.

"Hello?" inquired a deep voice.

Alarmed at the idea of someone finding her like this, Hermione hastily stood up and wiped her face. She pulled all her hair back into a low bun and took three deep breaths.

"I'm alright!" she said back, her voice oozing with verve.

Spinning around to face the intruder, Hermione squinted her eyes out of habit, watching as the draping was pulled away, revealing the harsh sunlight and a very tall, muscular boy.

"Ron?" she whispered to herself.

Fully opening her eyes, she stood before a dark-haired, green-eyed, confused boy. He held the tapestry with one hand, his head peeking in gently.

"What's going on, Granger?" he asked, malice no where to be heard.

The sight of that face and the sound of that voice, a new batch tears trickled down her eyes, her cheekbones, and her chin. She approached him slowly, her slender hand reaching out to cup his face.

His eyes widened at the thought of a Mudblood ever touching him, but he didn't move away, nor did he flinch. Her touch was surprisingly tender and all he could focus his mind on was those beautiful hazel eyes – those eyes that burned for something; something that wasn't there.

"Oh, Harry," she breathed devastatingly. "I know you're there deep inside you. You may not be him – my best friend – but, I know you're there. I can see it in your eyes."

She leaned in closer, her breath tickling his nose. "Can you hear me, Harry?" she asked, her eyes searching for that hidden soul that was lost in the depths of him. "Will you follow my voice?"

Without a single rational contemplation – without even wasting an inhale – Harry pushed forward, angling his head to the right, moving his hand away from the drapery –

And he kissed her.

.x.