Chapter 2 – Break-Up Plan

Isn't it interesting how nothing ever goes exactly the way you plan? Take yesterday's lunchtime, for example. I've slipped a note to Astoria in the morning at breakfast when she came to greet me with a smile so bright it could light the entire castle, informing her that I'd love to speak to her before lunch. Keeping it sweet. She didn't show. I thought maybe she just didn't read the note, or got suspicious about my sudden request that she deliberately disregarded my note.

That afternoon as I was sitting at the Gryffindor table having lunch, I let my eyes wander towards the Slytherin table. Blond hair usually stands out amongst a crowd of brunettes, like Malfoy's or the Greengrass sisters', hence, my eyes caught sight of one of them. The older Greengrass sat beside Parkinson, cutting leisurely at her meal—I assume she was eating steak, I couldn't tell from the distance, and it doesn't really matter, anyway—and sipping at her pumpkin juice glass. I noticed how her elbows were pressed close to her body, not touching the table, her back straight, blonde hair pulled up to a neat ponytail. She took her napkin and dabbed her mouth before taking another sip of her drink.

Such a ladylike manner, I thought in admiration, this is likely how they must have been raised at home. But then I thought of Astoria and her ungracious table manners. Maybe Astoria's been adopted or raised by a pair of goblins.

The younger Greengrass was seated at the other end of the table amongst her fourth year girlfriends and having a private food fight. We had green peas and pickled carrots for lunch; I assume this was what they had been throwing at each other across the table. Then Astoria dipped her fingers in what I could only assume was the bowl of mashed potatoes, and smeared it at her neighbour's face. As she was licking her fingers clean, she caught my eyes, dropped her head in shame and blushed. She stifled a giggle when I frowned at her.

Suddenly I wondered why I was fake-dating this girl; she was like Ron; only a girl—and well, pretty. Thinking back even as a child I never played with food and Astoria is bloody fifteen years old!

When I asked Astoria after lunch where she had been at the appointed time, she told me that she had detention. We would catch up later after class, she told me, giving me a peck on the lips.

I wasn't able to talk to her in private since, either we'd be interrupted or she'd have another detention or she'd just choose a place where we can't be alone together. Each time we saw each other, she'd try something else to distract me like silencing me with a kiss, dissipating my strong resolve of wanting to break up with her.

It will be different this time.

The rain splatters angrily against the common room windows, lightning cracking and rumbling at the horizon, followed by explosive thunder.

"Hermione, what's the matter?" Ginny asks beside me, looking up from the book she was reading. We are sharing a duvet together, and I feel her foot nudging me. "Is something bothering you?"

"What? No. I was just thinking what to send my mum for her birthday," I half-lie. "It's next week and I ran out of ideas." This is another thing I have been worrying about too, I can't think of anything to send my mum that isn't a magical item bought in Hogsmeade. From the corner of my eye I notice that Ginny is eyeing me. I couldn't tell Ginny about my plan on breaking up with Astoria Greengrass when there are too many people around.

"What about writing her a poem?" she suggests.

I moan. "No, that's supposed to be my gift for her for Christmas. You see, she loves going to musicals, like 'The Phantom of the Opera' or to ballets, like 'Swan Lake'. The latter is her favourite, but it's generally sold out if not pre-ordered. But even if I remembered doing so two months ago, ordering 2 tickets from here would have been tricky and inconvenient. I'm so stupid I didn't come up with something else or at least an alternate gift," I ramble on, berating myself. "It would've made her so happy."

"Oh, too bad," Ginny says in sympathy, "doesn't seem like they sell Phantom of whatever-the-heck tickets in Hogsmeade, eh? Cheer up, Hermione. I'm sure your mum will be happy about anything you send her. It's the thought that counts, isn't it?"

"Not only that," I keep talking, not hearing what Ginny just said, "but with my allowance I wouldn't have afforded them anyway."

"Why didn't you just ask your wealthy girlfriend about the money? I mean, you could pay it back later on."

"She has a name, Ginny," I tell her tersely, "And no, I can't borrow money from Astoria. I think I mentioned it to her before and actually implied that I would need some money, but I dropped the subject quickly. It didn't feel right. We're not even close."

"You're not close? She's your girlfriend, for crying out loud."

"Oh," I giggle. Right.

I rub my eyes, feeling suddenly weary and unmotivated to leave the common room and head outside in the cold, when it's all warm and comfy sitting here with my best friend by the fireplace. Admittedly, I missed bonding with Ginny.

But I have to get through with my plan. It's not like I can't stand Astoria or that I'm tired of her, that's certainly not it. She's a nice girl if she chooses to be. I just don't feel like dating someone half the school pines for, yet I keep to myself without even knowing how to make her happy; I can't be that selfish, I don't even love her. She deserves someone who's in love with her and fulfils her wishes and secret desires, and I certainly know what they are.

I touch my warm cheeks, and startle when I hear rumbles behind me.

Some of the boys behind us started a wrestling game, muffles and grunts coming from their direction as two of them try to throw and immobilize each other by grappling. I see Ron being one of the competitors, and I roll my eyes. He got Denis Creevey in a headlock and Harry, Seamus, Dean are cheering the git. He must be so proud of being stronger than a fourth year boy.

"So, how's she, by the way?" Ginny, then, asks casually, referring to Astoria. "You gonna see her later?"

"Yes, I'm supposed to get ready now but knowing her I believe she'd be late anyway."

She chuckles. "You don't seem enthusiastic, Hermione."

I get up and stretch my arms and body. I see Lavender flinging her arms over Ron and giving him a cheerful kiss for defeating a little boy.

With a shake of my head, I respond to Ginny's statement, "I'm going to break up with Astoria tonight."

I look, for the tenth time since arriving at the appointed place, at my wristwatch and glance down the hallway. Astoria is at least 20 minutes late.

She's so dead if she ditches me tonight, I'm thinking, walking up and down the hallway. From my peripheral view, I notice conspicuous blonde hair, and as I am about to yell my frustration at her, I realise that it isn't Astoria.

It's Luna, drenched by the rain, barefoot and wearing a raincoat and scarf over her uniform.

"What on earth!" I exclaim, rushing to her side. "Are you crazy?" Maybe asking Loony Lovegood this question is a little laughable. "You're going to catch a cold."

"Hi Hermione," she greets me wearily. "Yes, it's a bit chilly, isn't it?"

"A bit? Where are your shoes?" I ask, frowning at her reddened feet.

"I took them off before I went to the Forbidden Forest," Luna explains airily, looking around her, "it wasn't raining earlier."

I nod, scrutinising her. "You should return to your common room, Luna. Hurry."

"I should look for my shoes first, don't you think?" she asks me, "Where did I lose them? Maybe a kneazle stole them again from me. They are rather fond of my shoes."

"You used to say that other students hide your shoes," I remind her, raising an eyebrow. "Anyway, what kind of shoes were you wearing this time?"

"A pair of sneakers, Hermione," she tells me, shivering from the cold.

"Then let's find them."

We spent like ten minutes looking for her sneakers, down the hill where she last wore them, then along the staircase leading to the first floor. I don't honestly know why she took them off in the first place, but I don't question her. Plus, I couldn't let Luna walk around barefoot. Even I am freezing my feet off despite my thick boots. So I turn to her and send her back to her common room, promising her to find her shoes for her.

I tsk when she left me behind, throwing another look at my wristwatch. Astoria is still not there.

"For heaven's, she loves it being tardy," I sigh, tapping my feet impatiently.

Another ten minutes later and finally, Astoria shows up, uniform muddy and hair smeared with slime. I step back, grimacing.

"Goodness! And what misfortune befell upon you?"

"What?" she asks me, giving me a queer look. Then she looks down at herself. "Oh, darn. Thought I Scourgified myself off this dirt. Sorry 'bout this. Had detention by Professor Flitwick, and he made me clean the tubs with all the snails inside. So gross."

"Detention? Again? For what?" Why am I even surprised?

She blushes and looks away. "Well, 'bout that. Funny incident. We were examining the slime of slug in Potions. I, well, accidentally strew salt over mine, causing it to like, y'know, shrink like a prune. It was so disgusting." She grimaces, but smirks. "But fascinating."

"Oh Merlin, so you can't say it was an accident when in fact it was purely intentional." I shake my head in disbelief. "How could you do that to the poor snail? You knew it would kill it. And why did you have salt with you?"

"Got it from the kitchen beforehand, of course."

Of course. This little beast!

She gives me an indifferent shrug, and chuckles. She waves her wand a few times over herself to remove the remaining filth from her clothes and hair. "C'mon, it was just one slug. Stop freaking out. Here, I brought you a souvenir," says Astoria as she produces a flobberworm from her pocket and dangles it in front of my face.

I recoil in shock and slap her hand away, shrieking frantically. "Get that thing away from me! You're so horrible! And childish! Ugh." Really, I can't imagine that an alluring girl like her can be so cruel and evil sometimes. Which goes to show that you can't judge a dragon by its scales.

She throws the flobberworm outside the door in the bushes and turns to me, making kissy noises with her lips, hands folded to her chest. "Wanna make out?" she asks bluntly.

"You seriously expect me to make out with you after being late for almost 45 minutes?" I scold her, giving an exasperated huff, "And as if that wasn't already enough, you murdered a helpless snail and dumped a flobberworm outside in the bushes!"

It's frivolous, I know, but I need to stay angry with her to pull through with my plan. Hence, I focus on the fact that I've been freezing my arse off waiting for her, that she has been late again because of another detention—for the third time this week—that she has been cruel to animals. Little things like that. I told you, it's hard to get angry with her.

With her hands raised in defence, taking a step backward, she says, "Woah, what are you so being bent out of shape about? I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry…" Then she steps forward and takes me into a sudden hug. My confusion immobilises me for a second; she speaks in my ear, "And I'm sure the flobberworm will find a better home, better than the one I rescued it from, you'll see," she assures me softly, and for some reason, my anger deflates.

I chuckle and hit her playfully. "Silly," I mumble against her shoulder and push her at arm's length away from me. Then, "We need to talk."

I walk outside the massive double doors, standing under the concrete front porch; I listen to the rumbling of thunders in the distance. Bright lightning cracks at the dark sky, as rain pours down angrily.

Astoria tugs at my arm and indicates me to sit down with her on the stone railing. She leans against the wall and pulls me to her so that I'm leaning with my back against her. She's usually not this sweet to me.

I can't break up with her in this comfortable position, so I shift and move away. But she holds me in place. "I think I can guess what we're going to talk about," she whispers.

She knows what I'm about to do? I freeze.

I don't move, instead I just lie in her arms and feel the warmth of her body pressed against my back. And her warm breath at my ear.

And I thought this will be hard. I smile contently as another thunder erupts at the sky. I've prepared a long, soppy speech on how it'd be better if we don't see each other anymore and just "be friends", that cliché break-up line I so despise, that she should start dating boys, etc. But I won't need to tell her all that. Once this is over, I'll just walk away and she's free to date anyone she wants. Everything I wish for is that she doesn't end up like her sister and sleep around with boys. I'm aware of Astoria's raging hormones, but hopefully she'll find someone who cares about her just as much and who's as good-looking as she is, because then they'd have beautiful babies, and they can live together in a beautiful town, far far away from here, and…

I drop dead in my thoughts when I realise she is kissing my neck in a way she has never kissed me before. Very gentle and softly. She'd usually bite me and suck and worry my skin between her teeth until it hurts and I get bruises, but this time. Wow.

Wait.

No, wait. "Wha—What are you doing?" I ask her, my breath caught in my throat. Instead of pushing her head off from my sensitive neck, I pull her closer, but still I try to protest. "No, don't. Stop. That."

And then she draws away and I rip myself off her. My face feels warm and my stomach is tingling. I look at her in bewilderment, but she only smirks at me and giggles impishly.

This beast! She's trying to distract me again. And it bloody worked.

I won't let her.

"There's something I wanted to show you," she says, suddenly excited, as she digs in her inner robe pocket. Please not another flobberworm, please, I pray and inwardly cringe. She extracts two folded pieces of parchment, and hands it over to me. "Got my Herbology test paper back and my essay in Transfiguration. Professor Sprout, that bitch, insisted I take the test again because she thought I cheated. But my score got even better than the first. Here."

I eye her warily and take a look at it. On the head of the test paper with 25 questions pertaining the upbringing and care of magical plants, is her name scribbled in elegant, curvy handwriting, and beside it is the score she achieved. "Perfect score?" I exclaim.

"Yup, I only got 23/25 before that, but because of the retest I got perfect score. You should've seen that hag's shocked face when she returned my test paper to me." She beams proudly and smiles evilly, if doing both is even humanly possible.

"I'm so proud of you," I tell her honestly, squeezing her hand.

She rubs the back of her neck, suddenly blushing. "No one ever said that to me before," she chuckles. "Take a look at my essay."

I unfold it. The red ink written across the top of the parchment read Outstanding. I beam at her, and for some reason I don't know what came over me, I give her a kiss on the lips as if it's a natural thing between girlfriends.

She clutches my blouse and kisses me again. Longer this time, and she says in a low voice, "I owe that to you. Thank you so much. For studying with me. For inspiring me. And for motivating me. For everything."

"Stop this nonsense," I giggle and smack her arm. Then I add, "You did this all by yourself. I know you keep saying that you're dumb but you're not. Goodness, I've seen you study and you can be very passionate about it. You're smart and beautiful and I know every boy would do anything to be with you."

There. I drop the bomb.

Her smile freezes as she pulls away from me. She nods once, smiling in understanding. She looks away. "I see. I'm sorry I've dragged this on for so long, I'm very sorry, Hermione. It's okay, though, I'll be fine."

"Look, it's not that I don't like you. You're a very sweet girl and—"

She touches my lips to silence me. "It's okay." She tries to smile, and I feel like such an arsehole for doing this, but still I keep in mind that it's only for her best.

"Can you do me a small favour, though?" I nod. Digging again in her robe pocket, she produces a small envelope and thrusts it in my hands. "Will you still accept this? No doubt you'll know what to do with these."

"What is it?"

She doesn't answer. Then she yawns and stands up, making a turn towards the castle's doors. "Hope, we can still hang out together, though," she says over her shoulder. "Good night."

Furrowing my eyebrows in confusion, I turn the envelope and look inside, assuming it's another test paper of hers. I pull out what was inside and when I realise what they are, my hand clasp my gaping mouth and I feel tears welling in my eyes.

Clutched in my hand are two tickets to the Swan Lake ballet dated on next Saturday, on my mum's birthday. I lose control over my feelings but not just because of holding these sold out tickets in my hand, but that the seats are at the VIP lounges, plus two extra tickets granting admittance to the ballet after-show party.

My tears fall down freely, and I wonder why this infuriatingly amazing girl is doing this to me.

A/N: Thanks for reading. So, what do you think? This is not the "romantic gesture" Hermione was talking about in the prologue though, because that one will be huge! Please leave a review/comment/any feedback below if you liked it so far. :) Check out my newest Astoria/Hermione story "All I Can Do Is Try", a Valentine's Day two-shot. c",)