Well, here it is. The eagerly awaited third chappie.

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Chapter Three: The Burning Amulet

Hermione looked at Oliver, eyes wide. He flashed a smile and with a flick of his wrist, pulled her legs from under her with the cloak.

She landed with an un-graceful 'umph' on his lap. He was obviously not asleep.

"So, Hermione, what are you doing up here in Ron's room with a –" he paused to look at the silky cloak clutched in his hand, – "an Invisibility Cloak?" She swallowed hard, and thought furiously. The sparkle in his eyes was getting on her nerves. How she longed to hit him, and run down to the kitchen.

"I'm looking for a photo album." The truth was out before she could stop herself. Oliver raised an eyebrow, and looked at the brown album in her arms. She clutched it tighter. He didn't move.

"Oh," he replied softly. The look in his eyes changed to something else. Hermione glared at him. Her hair almost crackled. Fire flashed in her eyes, and Oliver saw her skin actually begin to glow.

"I don't need your pity," she hissed. With a hard shove to his mid-section, she slid off his lap and stood up, smoothing down her skirt with one hand. The temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. Oliver held up his hands in self defense, but she had already left.

He looked down at the cloak in his hands. With a shrug, he pushed it into Harry's trunk, and leaned back on the mattress, thoughts whirling in his head.

Hermione stormed down to the landing, and slammed into Ginny's room. It was still empty, so she took relish in yanking the door behind her with all of her strength. It shut with a crash and the room shook for a few seconds.

WHO does he THINK he IS? she thought furiously. Some kind of bloody SHRINK? Her breathing was finally settling back to it's normal pace. Her hands burned from where she had pushed away. He was well defined, for a prat.

Now that she thought about it, Oliver hadn't really done anything wrong. He was, in fact, rather silent. For a guy, at least. Harry or Ron would have done and/or said something stupid and insensitive.

But that didn't stop her anger.

There was a burning sensation on her chest, and when she looked into the mirror, she was surprised to see that the Celtic amulet her mother had given her was glowing. The skin around it was rosy from the light.

Hermione leaned in, and the amulet hung in mid air. She could feel the heat radiating off of it. All the same, she felt no desire to remove it. With a sigh, Hermione wrapped the amulet in the cloth it came from, and lay down on the bed.

She would read a bit, before she went to sleep, and maybe find that book on amulets she knew she brought with her. But her eyes drifted closed, and the next thing she knew, Ginny was waking her up for breakfast.

With a jolt, Hermione sat up and looked at her watch. She had slept through dinner and the nighttime. She looked across at the mirror, to find her hair a crumpled mess and her pale skin showing no reflection of the burn it had received the night before. Now, she took off the fabric, and was relieved to find the amulet stationary and shining from the metal, not some unearthly light.

Ginny sat on the edge of her bed, looking at Hermione's necklace.

"Wowzer," she whispered. "That's a beautiful necklace. Where'd you get it?" Ginny reached for the amulet, but Hermione wrapped her hand around it, and turned away. The youngest Weasley huffed for a moment, but she couldn't stay distant for long, and was soon brushing Hermione's hair.

They talked for a little on the upcoming school year, and Hermione's hopes for the Head Girl position. The badge, if she got it, was due to come in the letter.

"School letters s'posed to come today," Ginny said, pulling Hermione's hair into a French braid. Hermione nodded, and received a sharp rap on the head with the comb. Ginny unraveled the braid and started again.

"When we go to Diagon Alley, you must come with me to Possets," stated Ginny, and tied off the braid with a pink ribbon. Hermione sighed and pulled the end out of her hand. Possets was a new store that supplied clothing to the fashionable student.

Hermione despised it with every fiber of her being.

"Ginny, I want to go to Flourish and Blotts. There's this marvelous new book series I want to start on. I don't have time for –" But Ginny waved her argument away with her hand, and pulled Hermione over to her trunk to find an outfit to match the ribbon.

"You need some new clothes, Hermione. You're taller now. You'll need some new blouses. And Madame Malkin's clothes are so, old . . ." Ginny trailed off as she dug through the trunk. "Don't you have anything pink?" she finally asked, exasperated. She had taken out the clothing and laid it on the bed to survey.

"No," replied Hermione, and looked at her uniform lying on the bed. "I guess I do need some new skirts, don't I?" Ginny giggled, and picked one up in front of her.

"No, you don't. They don't make skirts in fashionable lengths, you know. Girls would kill to have skirts this length. They have Anti-Alteration charms on them." It was Hermione's turn to be exasperated. Although Possets supplied everything else, it couldn't get the skirts shorter. Contract, it seemed.

"I don't need short skirts." Ginny laughed.

"Of course you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Do you have any fashion sense?"

"No."

"Alright then," sighed Ginny, and she put the skirts back into Hermione's trunk. "Just don't throw them away. You might need them." Hermione snorted, but she didn't stop Ginny.

They settled with a white top and jeans with a pink scarf (Ginny's) threaded through the waist band. The two girls went down to breakfast, where everyone was finally settling, and the letters were waiting at their respective spots.

Hermione felt that dressing up everyday was pointless, but Ginny was having great fun, and it seemed that the youngest Weasley was the only one who could.

Hermione ate slowly, avoiding Oliver Wood as much as she could. This was not a problem, because the boys were crowded around him, trying to get as much information as possible. About what, Hermione had no idea.

Probably about Quidditch, she thought, annoyed. I don't get the point of it. Does it HAVE a point? Other than beating each other up. Having settled that there was no visible point for Quidditch, Hermione finished her breakfast happily and reached for her school letter.

It was heavier than usual, and with an excited shriek, Hermione ripped open the envelope and out tumbled the Head Girl badge. Ginny squealed and lunged at Hermione, enveloping her in a hug.

Mrs. Weasley was next, and then the boys. She carefully avoided Oliver Wood, but Harry, being clueless, didn't recognize the signs. He made some sort of comment, after which Hermione stepped on his foot and he choked on his pancake, efficiently avoiding any sore topics.

Hermione knew that she would have to face Oliver sooner or later, and being who she was (i.e. not a procrastinator) she should have preferred it to be sooner.

But Oliver Wood threw everything out of whack, and Hermione found herself wishing the topic to come up later. First she had to think up and excuse for Harry. Hopefully he could forget about it.

Or not.

Sorry for the short chapter. I had almost NO TIME, so I typed something up and posted it. Sorry folks. But, hey, you got an update, right?

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