Disclaimer: I do not own Hermione Granger nor her bookish tendencies, Hogwarts, or anything else besides my plot. :P
Chapter Four
It had been nearly two weeks since Hermione sent that letter. At first, she'd waited patiently; after all, the person to whom her letter was addressed was dead, so there was certainly something to be said for that. Soon, however, her patience had dissolved into irritation.
For all she knew, she'd been pranked—most likely by Malfoy's crew. Oh, she could just picture their rich laughter ringing through the Slytherin common room as they cut up over besting the insufferable Granger. Hermione's quill nearly poked a hole through the parchment of her Potions quiz at that thought.
Or, rather, pop quiz.
Luckily for her, she had been more than prepared; while the class was still going over simple hair growth elixirs found in chapter two, Hermione had already gone ahead to study the properties of the common sleeping draught in chapter twenty two. A quick glance at Malfoy's irritatingly white-blonde head, bowed low over his own quiz, made her set her jaw.
She'd show him who was besting who.
She returned to question thirty-seven: What is the second step to the beard-growing potion, as discussed on pages fifteen and sixteen?
Hermione tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, resisting the urge to smirk. It was all just too easy.
After she had answered the final question, Hermione capped her small vial of ink gathered her belongings. She glanced up at the clock. Huh, she thought as she looked around at the other students, their heads bowed low over their quizzes. She had finished that quiz within half an hour with over an hour left to spare.
She strode her way to the front of the room and placed her stack of parchment on Professor Slughorn's desk. He looked at her in surprise. "Finished already, Miss Granger?"
She responded with a beaming grin.
"Most impressive, I'm sure," Slughorn chortled, collecting the quiz to begin grading. "You are free to go."
Hermione readjusted her bag on her shoulder, her eyes scanning the room until she found where Harry and Ron were seated. As if sensing her gaze, Harry looked up, eyebrows raised in mock-surprise.
Done already? He mouthed.
You're not? She returned jokingly.
He rolled his emerald eyes playfully and got back to work. Beside him, Ron's hand gripped his writing utensil so tightly that his knuckles were white. His face was crumpled up in frustration, his brows knitted together. If she hadn't known how he spent his free time (not studying, that much was obvious), she would have felt sorry for him.
He looked up just then, his expression softening as he made eye contact with her.
What? He mouthed, his eyes quickly darting to the front of the room to make sure Professor Slughorn wasn't watching.
You looked like you were having a hard time, Hermione shrugged, sparing a glance at the Professor who was currently flipping incredulously through her quiz.
His ears reddened and he ducked his head low, taking up his quill and scratching away on his quiz with a new-found haste. Hermione chuckled softly to herself as she left the classroom.
O-O-O
Hermione returned to the Potions classroom to meet up with her friends as the bell rang, signaling the end of the class period. Harry joined her promptly, after which they both looked at their red-headed friend. Unsurprisingly, Ron hadn't finished his quiz within the allotted two hours' time frame of their class period.
"Please Professor," he begged, "if I could just—"
"My dear boy, I wish I could make an exception for you but it's called a pop quiz for a reason," Slughorn interrupted, deeply apologetic.
Ron hung his head in shame. "Yeah. Thanks anyway, Professor," he muttered before making his way to the door.
They met up with Ginny in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry suggested a game of Exploding Snap to cheer Ron's spirits.
"I'm going upstairs, alright?" Hermione said to no one in particular.
"Okay." Ginny replied, offering Hermione a quick smile before looking back at the game.
"Have fun!" Ron and Harry said in unison, not moving their eyes from their game. Hermione made her way to the stairs, pausing for a moment to listen to her friends talking.
"Hey!" Ron yelped, "That was cheating!"
"How did I cheat?" Harry questioned calmly. "I played my turn fair and square."
"B-but—!"
"Ron!" Ginny reprimanded, "Stop whining like a baby and go,already! It's your turn now."
Ron huffed and grumbled loudly before playing. He made a snarky remark under his breath, and Hermione could only guess that the resounding slap that was issued afterward was well-deserved.
"Watch it, mister," Ginny growled.
The squabble continued as Hermione made her ascent up the stairs. She let her heavy, overstuffed bag slip off of her shoulder and onto the floor beside her bed and sat down heavily on her mattress. Her whole body sagged, her usually straight posture slouched.
She thought about how late she'd stayed up the previous night, working away at an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape certainly had mastered the art of impeccably tedious homework assignments.
A quick nap wouldn't hurt.
Hermione sat up at the strange crumpling sound as her head touched her pillow. She turned, snatching the folded square of parchment off the pillowcase with an odd look. She unfolded it curiously.
Meet at the Room of Requirement. Tonight.
-C.
Her back stiffened and she suddenly didn't feel so tired after all. Instead, she quickly tucked the note and her wand into a pocket of her robes and made her way downstairs.
Harry and Ron had already apparently finished up their game, as evidenced by the new round between Ginny and Harry. Ron was seated close by in one of the plump brown armchairs, gazing into the fire.
He looked up as Hermione entered the room. "Where are you going?"
Harry and Ginny turned to take a look as well.
"I fancied a walk on the grounds," Hermione replied softly.
Ron's eyes lit up at that. "Mind if I come with you?"
Hermione had hoped to go for a walk alone to think about everything, but she couldn't help but feel grateful for his company. Ron could be so thoughtful when he chose to be.
"If you want," Hermione said with a non-committal smile.
"Let me get my jacket," he said as he walked past her to his dormitory. He was back quickly enough, wearing a deep blue pullover on top of his shirt.
They walked out of the common room and into the corridor, shuffling through the hall quietly. They continued in that manner until they walked through the great double doors that led outside. They were greeted by a gust of chilly November wind.
"So…"
Hermione held in a giggle. Ron was always the one to break the ice.
"So?" She turned and looked up at him, arching an eyebrow. It was just then that she came to a few realizations.
One, he had most definitely grown over the summer—he was nearly a whole foot taller than her now—and two, they were walking extremely closely together. So close, in fact, that her arm was brushing up against his with each step.
If she moved her hand ever so slightly, perhaps she could...
She stopped breathing for a second.
"Hermione?" His voice snapped her back to reality.
They stood, unmoving, beside a short, crumbling wall. She hoped he couldn't see the scarlet blush creeping its way up her neck as he gestured toward a bench close by. They sat down at the same time.
Ron looked out at the Forbidden Forest across the courtyard. "You've seemed really distracted lately."
"What makes you say that?" Hermione managed to ask, despite how heavy her tongue felt and how dry her mouth instantly became.
"You just…haven't been yourself." Ron swiveled around to look at her and gently rested a warm hand on her shoulder. "If something was wrong, you would tell me right?"
She blinked, barely able to breathe. "Yes, of course I would."
The corners of his lips lifted up in a smile and he dropped his hand, looking away from her again. "Good," he said, though his voice conveyed that, perhaps, he wanted to say more.
A sudden burst of wind lashed out, biting Hermione's cheeks, nose, and ears until they were bright red from the cold. She looked at her companion only to see him staring into space. The strangest feeling of dissatisfaction began to weigh down on her until she finally stood up.
"I'm going inside," she informed him. At his confused look, she explained, "I'm afraid that if I stay out any longer I'll catch a cold."
She turned and started walking until a sudden thought occurred to her. She spun around and looked at him, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow.
"Are you coming?"
It's an invitation, Ronald, she thought. Please take it.
"No," he replied, turning away from her quickly. "I'm fine here, thanks."
She spun on her heel and shoved her balled up fists into her pockets. "Suit yourself."
And, with that, she walked back to the common room by herself.
"Where's Ron?" Ginny asked as soon as Hermione had a toe in the common room. Hermione glowered and stomped over to the couch across from her, sitting down in a huff.
"I don't know," she replied, a little sharper than she'd intended.
Ginny sighed. "What did he do this time?"
"Where do I even start?" Hermione fumed. "One minute, we're walking outside together, right as rain, and the next, he turns from me and acts like he's too good to talk to me!"
Ginny waited a moment before talking. "Don't you think you might be blowing this a bit out of proportion? I mean, it's my brother we're talking about here. He's not the brightest candle in the bunch when it comes to social cues, if y'know what I mean."
Hermione took a deep breath and let it out in an audible whoosh. The heat from her anger had already begun to subside. "It's just different now with him. I feel like...well, that..."
"Something could happen?" Ginny offered, to which Hermione nodded. "So, you have a soft spot for my big brother, huh?"
Hermione cheeks flushed. "Well, you see, it's just that—"
Her friend held up a hand to silence her. "Whoa, whoa!" Ginny laughed. "No need to get defensive about it. I'm his sister. I pick up on these things even before he does."
"What things?" Hermione asked, her face returning to its regular color.
"Just—trust me. He really likes you," Ginny said, "it's just that he's a thick-headed, prideful boy."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, he's fancied a lot of girls in the past, but…" Ginny reached forward and patted Hermione's arm. "He looks at you differently. I don't know how else to explain it, but he does."
Hermione took a moment to let all of that sink in.
He...fancied her?
A sigh escaped her. "But I still don't get it—get him."
"Ron's a special case. He doesn't want you to know that he has feelings for you because he's scared you don't feel the same way. Just…" Ginny's eyes shone speculatively. "Just give him a little push. Trust me, he'll take the hint eventually."
Hermione scrunched her nose. "What kind of push?"
"How should I know?" Ginny laughed. "He's your problem now!" She winked at Hermione and stood up, brushing her palms off on her pants. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to change for dinner. See you in a little while!"
"See you!" Hermione called after her as she went up the stairwell. She sat on the couch, staring dazedly into the fire.
Ron liked her. That was a fact. Now she had the problem of trying to get him to admit it.
Just then, the portrait swung open and in walked the man of the hour himself. His hair was a mess of red strands that stuck up every which way, his clothes in complete disarray. He walked in, leaning against the wall to catch his breath.
"'mione?" He panted, his startled blue eyes looking up to meet hers. "I was—I was just looking for you."
"What?" she queried. "Why?"
"Because I—I wanted to say—" He took a deep breath and paused. When his breathing steadied, he tried again. "I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have acted like that back there."
He let out a sigh at Hermione's quizzical expression.
"Bloody hell, Hermione, I just—when you left, I realized how disappointed I made you and I—I'm sorry."
Hermione's expression softened. "It's okay."
For a moment, the only sounds that passed between them was that of the fire crackling away in the fireplace.
"So, um…" Ron said nervously. Hermione looked up and saw him scratching the back of his neck. His cheeks and ears were turning very, very red.
"Yes?"
He shifted from one foot to the other. Hermione held her breath in anticipation.
"I—" He cleared his throat abruptly. "We'd better get ready for dinner."
"Oh," Hermione looked down at her feet again. "Right."
She forced a laugh to cover up the deflated feelings that threatened to overtake her.
O-O-O
Hermione entered the Great Hall for dinner, doing her best to swallow her disappointment behind a smile. No need to get others upset, right?
She greeted a few of her fellow Gryffindors on her way to sit between Harry and Ginny. Ron's expression fell slightly when he saw her sit on the other side of the table, but she had two words for him: Too bad.
She silently put food onto her plate and grabbed a biscuit. She reached for her knife to prepare to butter it when she noticed that it was on Ron's left; furthest away from her. She gritted her teeth. There was no way she was asking him for help.
He looked from her to the butter while he crammed his mouth fuller than capacity with meat and mashed potatoes, instantly catching onto her dilemma. He swallowed a little bit and said, "'ee 'ome 'el, 'erinny?"
"Sorry, come again?" Hermione snapped irritably.
He gulped his mouthful down. "Need some help, Hermione?"
"Thank you for the offer, but I'm perfectly capable of handling myself." She pulled out her wand and flicked it in the direction of the butter. "Accio butter."
It flew to her outstretched hand and she proceeded to smear a dollop of the creamy yellow substance onto her biscuit, placing the butter dish on the table in front of her.
"Hey Hermione." Ron said.
Her hand jerked, crushing the pad of butter into her biscuit. "What, Ron?"
"Pass the butter."
She forced herself to draw a breath through her nose. "I didn't hear a 'please'."
"Fine," he said. "Please pass the butter."
Hermione glanced at the butter dish as she took a bite of her biscuit. "Ask Harry."
"But it's closest to you!" Ron whined.
Hermione ignored him, popping the rest of her biscuit into her mouth. Ron grunted in annoyance but began tearing into his chicken leg again. A few more minutes passed and then…
"Hey, Hermione."
She choked on a mouthful of green beans. "What, Ron?"
"Will you pass the butter now?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please pass the butter."
"No."
"Why not?"
"FINE!" Hermione shouted.
More than a few heads turned to look in her direction to see what the commotion was. Her face reddened and she picked up the glass dish, thrusting it in his direction. She didn't bother looking at him.
"Hey, Hermione?"
Hermione ground her teeth together and threw her fork onto her plate. "What do you want from me, Ronald Weasley?" She seethed, glaring at him. "I walked with you outside! I accepted your apology! And I gave you the bloody butter! What else could you possibly want?"
He had visibly shrunken away from her, his cheeks nearly as red as his hair. "I just wanted to say 'thank you'." Ron muttered, turning back to his food.
"Don't talk to me," she spat, pushing away from the table and marching out of the Great Hall without so much as a goodbye.
She ran up the marble steps and through corridor after corridor. She didn't know where she was until she saw the door materialize on the wall in front of her. Without hesitation, she grabbed the doorknob and wrench the door open. She slammed it shut with all her might and turned to look at the room that the Room of Requirement had conjured up for her.
Somewhere Ron can't find me, she hoped, bristling at the thought of him bounding after her.
It was a small room with rich, hardwood flooring and neutral colored walls. There was an ornate marble fireplace with a jolly fire glowing inside of it. A plush couch sat directly facing it, with two matching armchairs on either end. Between the arms of the couch and each armchair were short, round end tables.
Hermione walked briskly across the room and threw herself down onto the couch with a huff. Shortly afterward, she heard a door shut quietly and the sound of footsteps.
"Go away, Ron," Hermione snapped, not bothering to look. It was just like him to try to come after her even after she told him to leave her be.
"I would, except I'm not Ron," a voice said from somewhere behind the couch.
Hermione froze.
It was a male voice, alright, but it definitely wasn't Ron's.