003. Ends

And so, in conclusion, werewolves are monsters of our own making; victims of circumstances beyond their control. If we continue to refuse to let them live the ordinary lives they deserve, they will grow more and more detached from civilization until, eventually, they become the same man-eating beasts that they are already purported to be. It will be our own acts of prejudice that will be our undoing.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she read over the final paragraph of her letter to the Minister of Magic; it was finally finished. After weeks and weeks of agonizing over the precise wording, and draft after scrapped draft thrown into the wastebasket, the essay was at an end. Now all she had to do was sign her name. She moved her hand to dip the end of the quill in the inkwell, and-

"Oi! Hermione!"

The unannounced and unanticipated voice startled the girl and she jumped, her hand bumping the inkwell and causing it to wobble. She watched in complete and utter mortification as the vessel teetered on edge before tipping over and dumping its contents all over her desk and onto the letter to the Minister. The black ink swallowed up the words on the parchment, turning the surface of the page ebony as Hermione watched, unable to act, her mouth open in a perfect "o" of horror. Silence engulfed the room as her catalytic visitor watched, waiting for the girl to jump up and start clawing his eyes out.

Hermione slowly turned in her seat to be faced with a very frightened redhead. Ron's freckles stood out like beacons against his pale face. He took a step back. "Mione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I had no idea that you were busy- I just wanted to say-"

"Three weeks," the brunette whispered, her voice dangerously low, stopping the boy in his proverbial tracks. "I've spent three weeks on that essay to the Minister. I've hardly seen sunlight for a total of twenty-one days. I've stopped to eat once every two days, gone to the loo twice that, and avoided human contact for three weeks!" Her voice was climbing, close to hitting the point of hysteria. Ron began to fear for his life.

"And then you," she shrieked, pointing madly at the boy, "you walk into my room, and shout my name, and cause me to spill ink all over the essay! In a matter of three seconds! Three seconds!" Her eyes were livid, and despite the fact that he was at least a foot taller than the girl, Ron felt incredibly small at that moment.

"I said I was sorry," he offered feebly.

And then the strangest thing happened. Hermione stopped seething and blinked. She stared at the boy for a second or two. And then...

She burst out laughing.

Ron stood awkwardly in the center of the room, wanting desperately to be anywhere but there at that moment, as Hermione Granger laughed hysterically. The girl continued for maybe a total of two minutes before she stopped to catch her breath. She looked up at the boy and immediately started giggling again. "Oh, Ronald..." She walked over to him and pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so mad. You should see your face!"

My face? the boy thought dryly. What about your face, Miss 'I'm going to rip your throat out through your nostrils'? "It's alright," he replied nervously, patting her back. She pulled away and he smiled weakly. "Anything I could do to help? Want me to re-write it for you?"

Hermione shook her head, a smile on her face. "No. It's really alright. I can always write one better." Ron believed that she was telling the truth, mostly, but the twitch in the corner of her eye was a little bit frightening. He simply nodded and decided that maybe it would be better to wait for a while before asking if she would help him with his schoolwork.