(A/N: I took a few lines directly from the book here, so I just want to be clear that I OWN NOTHING FAMILIAR. J.K Rowling, please don't sue me.
IMPORTANT AS OF 12/26!
THIS EVENT IN THE BOOK HAS BEEN MOVED TO BEFORE CHRISTMAS! For explanations, read chapter 4, Notice!)
«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»«»
After the episode in the library, Harry Potter became a strange fixture in Hermione's life at Hogwarts. He was like lint stuck to her robes- completely unimpacting to her daily routine, but impossible to ignore for long.
She'd see him more in the hallways, her eyes seeking him out when before he would have been totally bypassed, or hear his laughter in the most random situations and wonder what was so funny, when before she couldn't care less.
Her mind would wander to him even when she didn't want it to. For example, sitting in class one day, she found her train of thought going in this direction-
'No one pays attention in History of Magic. I swear I'm the only one...Padma's drooling, for Merlin's sake. That hairpin is gorgeous, though, the blues and greens look smashing in her hair...hmm, green...the Slytherins are in Potions now...I wonder did Potter show up on time?'
The most stupid and insignificant things reminded her of him. But more than that, she started to feel his eyes on her, in the halls, classrooms, and courtyards. The prickly feeling of being watched would crawl over her neck and she'd glance around, usually to find him nearby and doing anything BUT looking at her. She started dreading the days that Gryffindors would have classes with Slytherins.
On and on this went, until she thought she was going mad. The worst was when others started to notice.
"Hermione, are you alright?" Lavender asked her one day, when they were paired together in Transfiguration. Hermione blinked up at her, startled. "Hm? Oh, y-yeah...why do you ask?"
"You've been a bit...distracted. You would have already done the spell by now..."
"Mmm." she mumbled, trying to convince herself that she WASN'T aware of the green eyed glare on the back of her neck.
Aside from her weird...whatever it was with Harry Potter, her friendship with Ron was falling apart at the seams.
He was CONSTANTLY angry with her, and found something wrong with everything she did, whether it be telling him that his answers were wrong on his homework to advising him to fix his tie. He snapped and snarled at her over the dumbest things, and she'd snap back. Poor Neville was caught in the middle, trying to keep the peace and failing miserably.
Little by little he was turning back into the Ron from first year, when they'd hated each other's guts. She knew it stemmed from a bigger issue, his hatred of her cat.
Honestly, it wasn't HER fault that Crookshanks chased Scabbers. He was a CAT, and it was impossible to control cats. Ron, true to form, ignored those facts and continued to wage war against her baby.
The day it came to a head, the entire common room was shocked out of what they were doing by a loud howl from the boys dormitory.
"What the hell-"
"No idea-"
"Was that Ron?"
Hermione, with a sick feeling curling in her innards, stood up to see over their heads. Sure enough it was Ron, and he was livid. "HERMIONE!" He shoved past the confused students and put himself right in her face, waving, strangely, a bedsheet. "LOOK! LOOK!"
"Ron, what-?"
"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"
There was something red on the sheet...something that looked like-
"BLOOD! AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE?!"
She flinched as his fist came flying towards her, but then his fingers loosened and three long ginger cat hairs drifted down into her lap. Head spinning, ears ringing, she tried to calm him down.
"Ron, Ron listen-"
"YOUR DUMB CAT ATE MY SCABBERS! I TOLD YOU-"
"You don't know that!" Hermione exclaimed, leaping to her feet. "Maybe they got into a fight, look under the beds-"
"He killed him, Hermione! You can't be serious!" Ron yelped, shaking the sheet around wildly. "I TOLD you to keep that stupid cat under control!"
"Crookshanks is not stupid!" she shrieked, finally losing her temper. "And he didn't kill your wretched rat! You've hated him since he made you look stupid in Diagon Alley, and you've been complaining about Scabbers for ages!"
Ron's face was lava red. "I didn't want him dead! Admit it, that cat's a beast and I was right!"
"You've never been right about anything in your entire life!"
"You better hope I don't find that thing before you do!"
"YOU HURT MY CROOKSHANKS AND I'LL CURSE YOU SO HARD THEY'LL MAKE A NEW LAW ABOUT IT!"
"Watch me!"
"Git!"
With those parting insults, they both stormed away- Ron back up the stairs to the dormitory, and Hermione to the portrait hole.
The tears streaming down her face were blinding, so she let her feet take her wherever. She didn't go to the library- she went up and up and up, trying to get as far away from Ron as possible, not sure where she was going and not really caring, either.
Eventually, she found herself in the Owelry, on the completely opposite side of the castle from where she'd started. The room had a peculiar smell, like dry feathers and spilled ink.
She sat down on a bench by a large window and huddled down into her robes against the chilly draft, shoulders shaking with angry sobs.
Yet another fight with Ron. How could he defend her one minute, then turn on her the next? Embarrass her in front of the whole common room over a rat and a half baked suspicion?! Unbelievable.
She crammed her cold fists into her mouth to stifle her wails, but a fluttering sound near her ear made her look up. One of the owls, a magnificent Snowy, had flown down to circle her head. The bird perched itself haughtily on her knee and hooted softly, fixing her with one bright amber eye.
Hermione smiled through her tears. "H-hello there. Was I disturbing you?"
The bird blinked and studied her. If it could have rolled its eyes, she was sure it would have. Hermione stretched out a cautious hand toward it. "May I?"
The owl eyed her for a second, then hooted resignedly and closed its lids, as if to say "Yes, go ahead, silly girl." Hermione gently stroked its sleek back, wondering at its owner.
Footsteps, on the stairs. Hermione tensed, thinking maybe it was Ron trying to smooth things over.
"Hedwig? Where are you, you daft bird?"
The words registered on her a full two seconds before Harry Potter came into view. She froze, and her fingers ceased their petting, causing the owl to let out an indignant hoot.
She sighed and closed her eyes, relaxing again. It would be him, wouldn't it? She was almost not suprised, and she nearly smiled. He was making a habit of catching her at her worst.
"Granger?" He was muddy and wet, with dripping hair and sludge caked into his green Quidditch robes. His nose was pink from the frigid air, and he almost looked...cute-
Hermione stopped that thought COLD, clamping down on it with all the mental force she could muster and resolving never to think the words "Harry Potter" and "cute" in the same sentence ever again. There was so much wrong with that...
"What are you doing here, Granger?" Potter asked, scratching at a smear of mud on his cheek. Hermione's lips turned down at the corners. "So I'm Granger again, am I?"
At her sharp tone, his mouth quirked into a smirk. "You want me to call you Hermione?"
"You want me to call you Potter?"
"I don't care either way," he retorted. "But it makes you sound like a teacher."
"Use my name, and I'll use yours." Hermione said. Potter shrugged, still smirking. "Fair enough. D'you think I could send my letter now?"
She turned away. "Go ahead, I'm not stopping you." She saw his smile widen, and she rounded on him. "What?"
"Well, seeing as how you've got my owl..."
His...? The bird on her knee pranced at the attention, and she exhaled loudly, already feeling a blush erupt in her cheeks. Why did he always manage to make her feel stupid? "Of course..."
She gave her leg a shake, and the owl glided over to him to perch on his arm, leg stuck out to wait for the letter. Hermione crossed her ankles. "He's yours?"
Harry glanced at her. "She," he corrected, "and yeah, Hedwig allows me to send things with her." Hermione blinked. "Hedwig? That's from-"
"Hogwarts- A History. Figures you'd know that." he laughed. Hermione was a little surprised. She hadn't taken him for a scholar. "She's beautiful."
"And she knows it. Lazy thing, though." There was genuine affection in his voice as he spoke about his owl, and it made her look at him strangely. He finished tying the paper to Hedwig's leg, and after nipping at his ear, the large bird took off soundlessly through the window.
"What was that?"
"Thank you note for Aunt Bella. She sent my birthday gift late." With a small shiver, Hermione realized he was talking about Bellatrix LeStrange, a suspected Death Eater years ago.
"You didn't answer my question, though. Why are you up here?" Harry queried. Hermione's eyes tightened, and she buried her chin in her knees. "It's nothing." She didn't know him that well- she wasn't about to pour out her heart to him.
To her dread, he smiled. "I bet I can guess."
"Let it GO, Potter!"
"Weasely being a prat, right?"
She stared up at him, shocked. "H-how did you-"
"It's not hard to figure out, honestly." he said. "You look like you've been crying and he's not here. You and Weasely and Longbottom are always together. Plus, he's always the reason you cry."
"Not...not always..."
"Come on, Hermione," he said, with only a tiny bit of mocking in the way he said her name, "I'm not as smart as you, but I'm not stupid." he huffed, crossing his arms. Hermione sniffled and shrugged. "Okay, so it was Ron. So what?"
"So what did he do?"
"He...h-he thinks...he thinks my cat ate his rat."
Harry stared at her for a long minute. Suddenly, he burst into laughter, cracking up so hard his face reddened. Hermione shot to her feet, fresh tears welling in her eyes. She immediately felt like a fool for even thinking about trusting him. "IT'S NOT FUNNY!"
"Wait, wait...you were serious?" he chuckled, rubbing moisture from his lids.
"Yes I was serious, you dirty git! I don't even know why I'm talking to you, I really don't- get out of my way!" She tried to shove past him out of the owelry, and hide her embarrassment in her anger, but Quidditch sharpened reflexes caught her wrist and held her fast.
"Let me go!"
"Calm down," Harry soothed, traces of laughter still flickering in his eyes. "I thought you were joking. Is that really all?"
Hermione snatched away from his grip, and he let her go. "Yes. He thinks Crookshanks ate his rat Scabbers." Simmering, she sat down and wrapped her arms around her legs, scrubbing at angry tears. Once that was out, the rest rushed forward and she couldn't stop it.
"He's such an ARSE! He turns on me for the littlest things! I can't say a thing he doesn't like or else he bites my head off! He's AWFUL, I swear, and his temper is the pits, even when I'm trying to help him. He's been complaining about that stupid rat for two years...the thing was probably going to die soon anyways! But he's convinced it was Crookshanks, won't even listen to any other solution! Made a ridiculous scene in front of the whole house, screaming and going on like an IDIOT..."
She hid her face in her hands, coughing and sucking in deep breaths to try and calm herself. She hadn't meant to have a break down in front of a Slytherin, least of all Harry Potter, but at least he wasn't laughing anymore.
Harry was silent, and then he exhaled forcefully. "Well, that's dumb. Seems like he's not the best mate you could have, doesn't it?"
"H-he's my friend, it's just sometimes...he...We...I don't know." she groaned.
"It sounds like he's using you." he told her bluntly. "The whole school knows you're the only reason Weasely's passing his classes."
"He's certainly friendly whenever there's an essay due." Hermione agreed darkly. She closed her eyes and dug her knuckles into her head, trying to chase away the headache pounding in her temples. "I just wish he'd stop exploding at me for everything. It's driving me mad."
"Quit being around him then. Either that or stand up for yourself better."
She glared at him mildly through her fingers. "Is that what you do with Malfoy?"
He rolled his eyes heavily. "Draco's a drama queen and an attention whore. We're friends so long as he can share my limelight. But I don't let him steamroller me."
"It sounds like he's using you."
"Isn't everyone?" he retorted snidely. "Everybody uses someone for something. Tell Weasely he can't use you anymore and unless he wants to flunk out, he'll shape up."
"We're better friends than that," Hermione protested. "But...maybe you're right about that." She rubbed her nose and pondered for a second. "That's a pretty dim view of the world you have." she added quietly.
"True though," he shrugged.
"Maybe. I doubt it. All people aren't that bad."
"Mm." He yawned, then stretched, letting the topic drop, but it was clear he didn't believe her. "Dunno about you, but I'm gonna go back to my dorm."
Hermione sighed and stood up, following him out. "I should probably be going back too." She glanced at him. "This...helped me, believe it or not. Thank you. It was actually sort of kind of you."
"Yeah well. Don't go preaching about it. People might think the hat made a mistake."
"Did it?" she asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs, mostly teasing. He opened his mouth to retort, then closed it and stared at her strangely. "Stop doing that," he snapped, avoiding her eyes.
"Doing what?" she repeated, genuinely confused.
"That...nothing. Never mind." Hands in his pockets, he took off down the hallway. Hermione watched him go, a small smile tugging unknowingly at her mouth.