Okay, so I sat and wrote this at 3 am. I'm just putting it out there that this is why there are probably more grammatical and spelling errors in here than in the infamous "My Immortal".
And I never spot them when I preview a story before an upload :').
This is something I've been battling with; one of those "good in theory" things, that halfway through you sort of realise it's difficult and maybe you should've just let someone else do.
Regardless , I can't sleep and this seems more productive than watching The Notebook for the seventieth time and crying into a mug of tea over how you'll be alone forever and have to resort to adopting 30 cats just so you can have something to inflict your loneliness on… what? No, no, I don't do that either…
Jealousy.
Reluctantly, Hermione realised she would soon have to give up the charade that she was still getting ready and make her way downstairs, where Mclaggen would be waiting for her. She looked herself over in the mirror, she looked fine, nice even; but would rather see herself in her dressing gown and slippers than the dress and heeled shoes she now stood in.
No, come on. It'll be fine, interesting at least.
After all, Slughorn mixed with the crème de la crème of people. Or at least he had assured everyone he did. There would surely be someone there that Hermione could become deep in conversation with, as to remain detached from Mclaggen, who had accepted her invitation with more… um, vigour than she was totally comfortable with.
Of course, she wouldn't have this issue if she'd have thought of just going with Harry, she'd kicked herself for that one.
Then again, if Ron hadn't have…
No, don't think about it. Them. Ugh…
As hard as she tried to push the thoughts of Ron and Lavender away, they lingered like a bad smell. But leading her to remember how much it'd annoy Ron to see her with Mclaggen. It was a tiring loop. Nevertheless a surely effective plan, and all good plans had some shortfalls right? Yes. A small sacrifice.
Somewhat self-assured, but not looking forward to the experience any more than she was before, Hermione grabbed her purse and headed for the stairs.
Ponse. Snob. Look at him… putting his slimy hands all over her…
Ron watched from his armchair in the common room as Mclaggen escorted Hermione through the portrait hole. One strong, possessive arm around her waist.
And look at her! All dressed up for the creep. Would she have worn that if it was me…
He pushed the thoughts away with a grunt, and slid further down into the seat cushions, surly expression in place. His gaze fixed menacingly on his unfinished Charms homework, as if he could scare it into completing itself.
He was suddenly warm, a thin sheath of sweat on his brow. He grunted accusingly at the blazing timber in the fireplace; could feel a headache coming on as he strained his eyes staring into the bright, flickering flames.
Feeling as though there was nothing good to come of the rest of the night, he made the decision that he was done with his homework and snatched up his parchment and quill. Pushing out of the plush chair, he headed for the staircase to the boys dorms.
But before he could retreat up the stone steps to bed, a particularly observant set of blue eyes spotted him from the opening portrait hole; "WON WON!"
And just like that, his budding headache exploded into a full-blown migraine.
Not one who appreciated public displays of affection, Hermione didn't hesitate to slipping out of Mclaggen's arm. After she was sure Ron had gotten a good look anyway.
Yet still, he seemed unable to walk without some from of physical contact, and after her awkward attempts to wrestle away from him went to no avail, sighing in frustration she settled for linking arms.
Why was this ever a good idea?
She remembered Ron's face when he'd seen her with Viktor at the Yule ball. But it was different now, now he had Lavender to snog and get over being seen with Mclaggen wasn't enough.
After they'd entered the party and exchanged pleasantries with Professor Slughorn, Hermione was sure to plant herself in plain sight of just about everyone, took in a deep breath, gathered up her nerve and planted one firmly on Mclaggen's smug mouth.
It's not that bad, it's not that bad… you can do this, Hermione.
She kept telling herself it was all worth it, but it was no use, she needed air. Mclaggen had responded with unsurprising enthusiasm and Hermione resurfaced looking dishevelled and pink in the face.
"Bathroom," she mumbled to him and started to move away, " not together…" she emphasised with sheer embarrassment as she heard him eagerly begin to follow her.
As she made her way to the lavatories, she took note of the looks and hushed giggling as people discussed the heated public display.
You're not the only one who can snog, Ron Weasley.
After what seemed like an eternity of strenuous jaw exercises, breaking only to be updated on the latest gossip in Hogwarts, Ron finally shook Lavender off and went to bed.
Feeling mentally drained, he pulled on a pair of his pajamas and lay flat out on his bed, wondering why he needed to know that Pansy Parkinson was in the hospital wing after trying to use an extension charm on her eyelashes.
"Girls…" he sighed to himself, knowing the problem wasn't 'Girls' at all. Just one girl…
His mind conjured up the image of Hermione descending the stairs into the common room. The gloriously red dress, her golden-brown curls, the way her dark eyes burned…
Ron wasn't sure of when he fell asleep, but his unconscious self couldn't be stopped of having thoughts of Hermione.
Hermione practically broke into a run when she had gotten through the portrait hole and headed for the stairs, mumbling a quick "Goodnight" to Mclaggen.
Her heartbeat in her ears, thundering away at the raging headache she'd had for the last hour. She threw her purse at her dresser, as if it would tidy itself away and flopped onto her bed.
What's the point?
The thought had snuck up on her when Mclaggen was lecturing her about Quidditch that, everything aside; there was only the one person she'd ever listened to about the sport.
She was suddenly saddened, couldn't stop the pent up emotion she'd kept at bay and excused herself once more, to go to the bathroom. Locking herself in a cubicle she sat on the unopened seat and let the sobs come.
It wasn't the first, and would probably not be the last time she'd cry over Ron.
A part of her resented him. Resented that he could make he hurt like this.
Unnecessarily.
It was true, when she'd asked him to attend the party with her, she'd pictured that this would be it. The time they would be recognised as together, as… Ron and Hermione, not; Harry, Ron and Hermione.
She sat up on her bed and quickly changed into her nightgown. Throwing the dress on the floor and cursing herself for picking it, thinking he'd like it.
Curling up on her bed she felt the sobs rise again, and took a deep breath to keep them at bay. She felt a slight pressure at the foot of her bed and glanced up to find Crookshanks mewing gentle comfort to her.
Snoring cat in her arms, and swearing off romance and boys forever, sleep came gently and deeply, as she needed it to.
This is quite an anti-boy chapter… for many undisclosed reasons that I think you all know of, without needing to ask...
Then again, I'm sure boys go through this too… but are there any boys out there? I was almost sure that this was a fan-girl story, but you never know…
But yeah, this was me getting mad at Ron for not letting Ron/Hermione happen sooner.
I think the next few chapters will probably be post-DH. And I'll give you a little teaser in telling you I've been working on one of the pregnancy stories, that I might save…
First chapter of my NEW STORY, "The Black of night", is up ;) ;) hint-hint-hint. Please don't hesitate to tell me if you don't like it; that way I can work on other stuff.
BIG LOVE from me and my 30 imaginary cats :D thanks for your continuous support!