Hermione Granger went to bed that night having strode into the kitchen without so much as a by your leave to get lunch and dinner. She would not let herself be intimidated by the prospect of finding Ronald at the table. She wouldn't, and so she didn't, and she was ... mostly okay with that.

What she wasn't okay with was her friend Harry. He spent the entire day with Ronald, and she didn't like it. Her mind turned on things that she shouldn't think, and played with deeds that she dared not even contemplate... seriously. A harmless amusement like imagining stringing her friend up by his toes was certainly okay, so long as she didn't actually act on it. Or tell him.

The next morning, Hermione's door was rudely interrogated by Harry's hand. Well, strictly speaking, Hermione didn't know it was Harry. But really, who else would knock on her door, and at such an hour? (It wasn't earlier than 8, but they had all gotten used to sleeping in till at least nine).

Hermione sat up, and said loudly, "No!"

Harry Potter continued knocking at the door, undeterred. From outside, he was heard to yell, "Her-mi-o-ne!" In that particular brand of urgent whining that only Harry Potter could pull off. Well, at some point Ronald had also had the tendency, but he wasn't someone she was likely to listen to at the moment, now was he? Hermione frowned, thinking of when she had first discovered that her name was grating, irritating, and perfectly suited to a whine. As a child, she had thought her name perfectly melodic - she had certainly never given her parents reason to whine at her, nor her classmates, nor her teachers. Harry's name didn't sound so dreadful, she thought, kicking her foot and tossing the blankets up and down.

"Hermione!" Harry called urgently, and Hermione belatedly remembered that her best friend was quite as stubborn as she was, and likely to be more determined to wake the entire house than to let her go peacefully back to sleep. Standing, still clad in her nightclothes, Hermione strode towards the door.

"What?" Hermione spat, "No, I know what you're going to say already. The answer is no, Harry. Don't ask me to tell you it again." And Hermione pulled her face back inside the cracked door, slamming it... on Harry's foot.

"Oww!" Harry howled, "Did you have to do that so bloody hard!?"

Hermione was not going to apologize. Oh, no she wasn't. Not even by opening the door a wee bit. No, she was going to watch her best friend howl in pain, and then coldly advise him to go away.

"I'm sorry, Harry. But, please, don't talk to me." Hermione said, opening the door a bit to let Harry get his foot out.

Harry had other ideas, squeezing - somehow - through the nearly closed door, and nodding firmly, as he pushed himself backwards, closing the door.

Hermione blinked, belatedly realizing that Harry had taken her demand not to talk with her completely seriously. Or was playing it straight, which she really hoped he wasn't doing as her patience was nearing an end.

Harry turned toward the door, setting a nice silencing spell that Hermione realized she had taught him, way back when he only had the graveyard to have nightmares about.

Harry turned around, gave Hermione a nod, and then sat in the corner, looking at her.

Hermione, still rather ticked at Harry, shrugged at him, and then nestled under the covers. If Harry was going to be quiet, she was going to get some sleep. Perhaps he wouldn't be there when she woke next. One could hope.

[a/n: yep. pretty childish here. nope, not going to last, but I think Hermione's at least got a little reason for being upset. Harry's well capable of outstubborning Hermione Granger when it comes to friendship, though.

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