Some of the dialogue here has been directly lifted (errrr, borrowed) from HBP.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but this twisted so-called "plot".
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Seriously though, what if her life had been a corny screwball neo-noir parody sort of thing? It had a fairly clichéd premise – a group of quirky world saving teenagers, with a hideous and crazy arch-nemesis. There was mystery, intrigue, and a good amount of gore. There would, of course, be no dearth of clever and funny bon mots throughout the entire adventure. Eventually, they'd come face to face with ghoulish ol' Voldie, and Harry would slide up to him like, "Psycho Killer, Qu'est-ce que c'est?" and bind him in layers and layers of rope. Then, when Tonks and Mad-Eye would come to take him away and lock him up in Azkaban, Voldemort would scowl and end the saga with one of the most iconic and moving sentences in pop-culture... "And I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you meddling kids!"
She rubbed her eyes and shook her head. Focus, Hermione. She had an hour to finish three essays, or she wouldn't have any time left to recommence her search for the meaning Horcruxes, and continue with her research on protective enchantments that she was sure would come in handy very soon, and also...
Focus, damn it.
But February made me shiver... with every paper I'd deliver...
Hermione's overtired brain was crooning as she handed her three-and-a-half feet long essay to Snape. He looked down his nose at her, and she felt a rush of... good grief... was that fondness towards the only person in her life that had the decency to be consistent. She always knew what she would get with him – derision and condescension served cold and tart. It was soothing soul balm, really. Sevy's Scornfully Soothing Soul BalmTM. Altruistic old Sevy dished it out for free; all you had to do was exist. Such admirable steadfastness, Sevy... Oh shit.
She had been blinking up at him blankly for an entire minute, while her inner monologue suffered from an attack of Theodoritis.
His lip curled... and there it was! That entirely predictable look of Sevy-disdainTM, perfect for curdling milk, making little children cry, scaring delicate old biddies... he would make such an excellent evil genius terrorist action film villain...
"What do you want?" he spat.
Hermione jumped back in alarm and chagrin. "N-nothing, nothing! Good evening, sir..."
She turned and scrammed.
"What the hell was that?" Harry asked her with wide eyes.
"Harry. I haven't slept, Harry."
He looked at her like she was a leper. "In how long?"
"I don't know!" she wailed.
"Okay, okay," he said firmly, putting a comforting hand on her back and leading her up the stairs, "How about we rectify that now, yeah? Come on."
No sooner did they walk into the common room than Hermione crumbled into the armchair closest to the fireplace. It was raining and raining buckets outside. Curling up into a tight little ball, she felt someone drape a blanket over her. She waved a grateful hand at whomever it was... her eyes had fallen shut of their own accord.
"What's happened to her?" said a voice. She couldn't quite put a face to it at that point.
"This will be the day that I die," she garbled.
And promptly fell asleep.
Grey, olive, and rust : lake, forest, and sky.
Four o'clock, and world outside had turned into a work of abstract expressionism. Someone call Rothko and tell him to have at it.
Hermione paused by a window on her way to tea and stared out at the fuzzy horizon line.
"What are you looking at?" Theo hopped up on the ledge and peered through the glass enquiringly.
"A metaphor, I'm almost sure," she replied inanely.
He gave her a look, and Hermione rushed to stop him from commenting.
"How is it that I never see you and Luna together?"
Theo smirked knowingly before answering her. "It's intentional. I don't want my highly opinionated housemates to know that we're... er, friends."
"Why ever not?"
He sighed, and a sudden grimness took over his features. "They might try to hurt her, wouldn't they?"
"Ah," she breathed. Then she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "What about me then?" she asked hotly.
"Oh please," Theo rolled his eyes, "As if any of those twits could hurt you. Specially now, since you can crush all their bones with one casual hand gesture..."
Hermione was mollified. "Not all their bones."
He grinned, and tugged at one of her curls. "I'm starving."
The journey from the greenhouses to the castle was bloody murder. Hard raindrops like beestings pelted down from every direction, wearing away even the strongest of repelling charms.
One of Lavender's boots landed in a puddle of sludge, and the earth accepted this sacrifice with the entitlement of an all-powerful god, leaving her standing in the rain with one soaked, mud-spattered stockinged foot.
"Won-Won!" she squealed in horror.
The journey from the greenhouses to the castle was an absolute delight. Hermione hung back with Harry and Seamus, and they sniggered as they watched Ron struggle to wade through the slush while carrying Lavender on his back.
On a perfectly dreary Saturday morning, the sixth year students gathered in the Great Hall for their first Apparition lesson. The four heads of houses stood in a line on a raised podium, and they were joined by the ministry appointed instructor.
"What do you reckon," Harry whispered in her ear, "all that appearing and disappearing has somehow diminished his substance or something –"
Hermione fought a valiant battle with a chuckle. He was right – the man before them looked terribly frail and faded.
"– I mean, he's practically half-ghost."
"Shhh!"
She clamped the insides of her lips between her teeth.
"Good morning," said the spectral entity, "My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition Tests in this time —"
He was interrupted with a whip-like shout from Professor McGonagall: "Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!"
A sea of heads turned this way and that, until they were all looking at a pink-faced and glowering Malfoy. Under this scrutiny, he shuffled away from Theo and Crabbe, both of whom were looking quite aggravated as well. Hermione tried to catch Theo's eye, but he fixed his gaze most determinedly on Twycross, who had gone on speaking as if there hadn't been any disruption.
"— by which time, many of you may be ready to take your tests. As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. May I emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try. I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you."
This gave everyone permission to wreak havoc. Pushing, pulling, move over, and listen here… simple chaos, which Harry decided to take advantage of.
"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione hissed, but he ignored her and moved away swiftly, darting between people until he had disappeared somewhere in the back of the crowd. Undoubtedly, he had gone and situated himself closer to Malfoy. She shook off a mild surge of irritation, and focused on the simple wooden hoop that had appeared on the floor in front of her.
"The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D's!" said Twycross. "Destination, Determination, Deliberation!"
(Behind Hermione, Parvati muttered, "Thanks, but I'm perfectly happy with my double D's," and Lavender giggled hysterically.)
It was one of the dullest hours of her life. She could see her Destination, she had Determination in spades, and bloody hell, she was moving with Deliberation... except she wasn't moving at all. It was like driving lessons all over again. Sod her poor coordination skills. Her dad had experienced many mini heart attacks when she'd suddenly accelerated instead of breaking, or when she had stalled in the middle of traffic.
After the fourth try, when Susan Bones had splinched herself, Hermione just knew she'd be the next one to do so.
Thankfully, that didn't happen. Nothing happened at all, in fact. There wasn't a single success story in the Great Hall that morning.
Twycross' tone betrayed a complete lack of surprise, "Until next Saturday, everybody, and do not forget: Destination. Determination. Deliberation," and after vanishing all the stupid hoops in the room, he left.
Hermione followed soon after, as excited chatter bloomed up around her. She stalked out with determination, knowing her destination was likely to be a bit flaky…
However, Theo was leaning against the railing of the grand staircase with his arms folded in a very deliberate stance.
"You thought I was going to be running away, didn't you? You thought you'd have to chase me, and then haul me over to some secret corner, and demand that I tell you what the hullabaloo in the Great Hall was all about… and I'd protest, but you'd work yourself up in that gloriously Hermione manner, (have I told you how much I adore that about you?) and you'd righteously order me to–"
"Man alive, would you shut up!" Hermione exclaimed. He snapped his mouth closed, looking affronted. "Your attempt to distract me, while admirable, was futile as always. Since I am not a fan of futility, I'm not going to bother asking you what the hullabaloo was all about."
"Oh."
Now Theo looked like he didn't know what to do with himself.
Hermione steeled herself, begging her blood not to rush to her face, and said, "Um, I have more books…"
Instantly he was grinning, she was flushing, and oh, hang it all.
Theo had asked for cheerful, hadn't he? Hermione shoved a stack of half a dozen P.G. Wodehouse paperbacks into his arms, and jogged up the stairs.
Except… she had snuck in Crime and Punishment between Carry on, Jeeves and The Mating Season. It was just too damn important.
Hermione had precisely twelve point six minutes to get from Arithmancy to Potions. Since it was just a matter of going from the first floor to the dungeons, she tempered her pace to a brisk walk.
As she passed the courtyard, she saw Harry perched on the balustrade with his nose buried in a book. He was wholly, completely absorbed, and for a second Hermione felt so proud, believing this to be her influence… before she realised that he was most likely pouring over his Prince's notes.
She tip-toed over to his side, and craned her neck to look over his shoulder. He wasn't reading at all – he had the Marauder's Map resting atop his open book.
Curious. Hermione slowly moved her head closer to Harry's so that she could speak directly into his ear.
"WhachadoingHarry," she murmured.
"MOTHERFUCKER," Harry roared.
He slid off the railing, and hopped, skipped, and trotted for a good two meters before he spun around and gaped at her.
"Hermione!? Oh shit. You nearly killed me!"
No, Hermione was sure that she was the one who was going to die. Her stomach ached from laughing so hard. It took her a while to recover, after which she sniffed, wiped her eyes, and said, "Sorry about that."
"I'm sure you are," said Harry, very dryly.
"What are you doing, though? We have potions in... er, now."
"Right. Let's go. I was... I was looking for Malfoy. I'm sure I'll catch him doing something dubious..."
"Was he doing dubious things right now?"
"Well, no. He was in your Arithmancy class. But it's only a matter of time. You know what's really weird? Sometimes he just disappears. Literally falls off the map. Where could he possibly be going?"
Oh no. Oh no. She could just picture Harry three weeks from now. Unshaven and wild, he'd be hugging his knees and rocking slowly while staring at the map and dully chanting, "where's Malfoy, where's Malfoy, where's Malfoy..."
Hermione was late for potions that afternoon, but since she was with Harry, it hardly mattered.
"Where does Malfoy disappear to?" Hermione asked Theo demandingly later that evening in the library.
"Sorry?"
"You heard me. He's nowhere in the castle or the grounds. So... where does he go?"
"How do you know that?"
"That's not the point."
Theo shrugged innocently. Hermione glared.
"Hey, what's the difference between the 'u' symbol with three dots, and the one with four?"
"Theo!"
"Hermione! I really don't know where Draco..."
"Right." Hermione cut in with a growl.
An infuriating grin spread across his face. "I'll tell you what... why don't you ask him yourself? Next time, you can give him your books in person, and have a lovely long chat about his comings and goings."
"You know," she said angrily, "I would think you'd give me less of a hard time about this whole... thing. I'm not remotely invested in it. I'm doing this for you."
That was enough to wipe his smile away. "I know."
She huffed and turned her mind back to her work. She needed to finish these translations as soon as possible, so that she could move on to her Transfiguration assignment, and then get back to more important research matters.
"Thank you, Hermione."
His sincerity touched her, and she sighed. "What was it you had said...? 'I will not accept any gratitude from you'...?"
His answering smile was so pure and full, that she simply had to smile back.