"Who are you dressing up for?" Professor McGonagall asked me again.

"No one!" I answered, exasperated. "Why do you assume I'm dressing up for anyone?" It is my theory that she hopes to catch me off guard and have me answer truthfully in surprise before I fully realize what she asked.

"Hmm."

I shook my head. If I was really honest and would allow myself to admit it, I would tell her I was dressing up for Parvati.

"Fine," she sighed.

I returned to my work of helping her with organizing her desk and packing it up to prepare for the summer break.

"Who?" she asked again, suddenly.

"Professor!" I said, half scolding her as I laughed. I paused in my work to look up at her and shake my head.

"You know I'm going to figure it out eventually! Just tell me!"

"Professor, there isn't anyone! I've just been in a dressy mood is all. That's it. Promise."

"Hmm." She paused. "It's not Ginny again, is it? Or still? Tell me it's not still."

"No one!" I shook my head again and returned to my work. I could feel the start of the blotchies and I could see my hands beginning to shake. Sweet Merlin! I thought, afraid she would notice and stick with her theory of there being someone, or that it was Ginny. I took a deep breath to steel myself, wondering if admitting that there was someone would make the situation better or worse. "Fine," I sighed. "There is someone. But it's not important, okay? Let's just drop it." I tried to control my shaking hands as I organized papers from her desk.

"Is it Parvati?" she asked suddenly.

My eyes grew wide, "I did not say that!"

"Oh my Merlin! It is!"

"No, no!" I said, shaking my head in an attempt to stall. I was fully aware of the blotchies steadily becoming full-blown.

"It is!" she repeated. "I mean, I always saw this happening, I just thought that she liked you. I didn't see it as much from this angle."

"No! It's not her!" I argued in a lat-ditch effort before I would finally give in and tell her all about what I've been feeling an thinking and withholding because of the nature of it all.

She nodded again, showing that she really knew and would not allow this charade to continue.

I finally nodded. "I mean, I didn't even want to admit it to myself. I just… I keep thinking of her differently ad it's so not intentional! Like, you know how you often say that she likes me? Well, first of all, you've gotten me into such a stage of paranoia! Like, I'm so on edge all of the time and basically fear that every time she talks to me about 'something important,' she's going to tell me she loves me or randomly kiss me. But then I keep asking myself, 'Would that be so bad?'"

"Oh dear!"

"Not helping!" I said, the blotchies worsening.

"Oh my!" Then she started laughing. "You have Pangea on your chest, Hermione!"

"Now is not the time, Professor!" I said, huffily. She asked, so now I'm telling her. So, the "not helping" needs to stop. "Professor!" I whined. "Do you remember a while back? When she wasn't speaking to me because of something or other? I thought she wouldn't ever forgive me. With the thought of our friendship really being over, I felt so free. Free from her possessiveness. But… I had such an ache in my heart. It physically hurt. The thought of not having her in my life physically hurt me. I've really known since then, I just wouldn't admit it out loud. But I can't keep from thinking, 'Why would it be so bad to be in love with one of my best friends? Why would it be so bad to have someone that I love, love me back? Someone who can make me feel better, regardless of how sick and depressed beforehand, just by her being there? Someone who can make me laugh regardless of how angry I am at anything?' I mean, is that so wrong? So bad? I know our friendship is… Odd, but why would it be so bad to be in a relationship with her? I mean, we're friends, so even before my feelings for her started changing, I enjoyed spending time with her and felt that I could trust her. And even though I know nothing will ever happen, I can't help but see it. I can see me and her together, happy. But then I think, 'No, she's weirdly possessive as just friends. If we cross that line, she may try to control me even more than she does now!'" I said, my voice shaking almost as much as my hands.

"She likes you," McGonagall said simply. "You need to tell her."

My eyes went wide. "I can't do that! I mean, what if she doesn't like me? What if she freaks out? What if she never wants to speak to me again?"

"That won't happen."

"But what if it does?" I shuddered inwardly at that. After all of the years, I couldn't even picture my life without Parvati. "I mean, it could happen, you know. You know how weird she gets, how often she gets mad at me for no reason at all and refuses to talk to me for an undefined period of time. This could freak her out! I mean, you say you weren't freaked out when I 'told' you that I liked you, but Parvati's not like that. At all. She's quick to anger!"

"Do you want me to ta-"

"No! Don't do that! Never do that!" I took a deep breath. At some point, the blotchies had reached a new level of badness and I was having difficulty catching my breath. It was like the blotchies had decided they needed to suck all of the oxygen out of my system so that they could be an angrier red. Almost as bad as that, my hands were now shaking so badly that I couldn't even pick anything up.

"Do you need a paper bag to breathe into, Hermione?" McGonagall asked, clearly torn between concern and amusement.

"No," I practically growled at her. I was baring my soul after she had asked all those times and she's not giving helpful advice because she's too damn busy attempting not to piss herself with laughter!

"You should tell her," she repeated.

I kept silent for a minute before shaking my head. "I can't. I mean, she would never forgive me!"

"Then remove yourself from the equation," she said simply.

"What?"

"Don't make it about you. Ask her why she treats you so differently from the rest of her friends. Why she seems to get so jealous. Ask her why she does that and why she feels she has the right to be angry with you for liking people. And why she acts like she owns you. And that if she wants to 'own' you, that's something you two need to talk about, but it can be arranged," she finished with a smile.

"I am not saying that! She is not allowed to own me!" I said before I nodded, "You have a point. She does seem to get jealous. Like, she was so angry when I told her about my crush on Ginny. And when I was dating Lavender. She didn't even like you as a teacher until after my crush on you had subsided!"

"Hmm," she said quietly, making a face.

I almost smiled. "I like this plan." Now I remember why I tell her things. She gives me such helpful advice!

"Well, you need to figure it out in some way. Otherwise, both your hormones and hers are going to take over one day and you'll kiss and then you won't be able to turn back from that or pretend it didn't happen."

And the helpfulness is gone.

"They will not!" I argued.

"That's what I see happening."

"Stop!"

"Hmm."

"It's not funny!"

"I'm not trying to be funny! I'm trying to warn you."

Lavender knocked on the door. I turned and looked around, shocked and wondering how much she had heard. My blotchies continued to reign supreme.

"Professor? I came by to visit!"

"Lavender!" I said, getting up and hugging her, glad to have some sort of distraction. My hugging her was rewarded with another face from McGonagall. "Oh, stop!" I told her. "We're friends!"

McGonagall made another face before also hugging Lavender. "Hi, Lavender."

Lavender briefly went over what classes she had after she had dropped Transfiguration. "So," she asked, "what have I missed?"

"Well, Hermione likes someone. Look at how dressed up she is!" Professor McGonagall said, her laughter returning as she smiled wickedly.

"Shut up! I hate you!" I screeched. "Your telling people is never part of the unspoken agreement we have for my telling you things. I tell you whatever it is and you're allowed to tell Madam Hooch. Maybe Katie and Cho, that's it! No one else!"

She smiled again as lavender perked, eager to play this game.

"Who?"

"No one!" I barked, glaring daggers at McGonagall, who dutifully held her tongue.

"Angelina?"

"No!" McGonagall answered as if it were obvious that it could never be her. "She's in your year."

"Professor!" I screeched in shock.

"Padma?"

"No," McGonagall answered, shaking her head.

"Professor!" I repeated.

"Parvati?"

McGonagall opened her mouth to answer but never got the chance to speak. I had thrown an ink stopper from her desk at her to prevent her from answering.

"What?" she asked, almost snapping. "I didn't tell her who it was."

"By saying no about others, you narrow it down!"

She sighed, disappointed that I had ruined her game.

"Parvati?" Lavender asked, repeating herself.

"No," I answered, struggling to keep up appearances.

Lavender looked to McGonagall who dutifully shook her head, confirming my lie.

"Why won't you tell me? Who would I tell?" she asked me.

"It's…" I couldn't form the words. I opened my mouth and tried to force myself o answer because Lavender was right and she is one of my trusted friends. I opened my mouth again, but no sound came out. I finally sighed, "I can't."

If I can't tell Lavender, how am I ever going to tell Parvati? I thought to myself.

After a while, Lavender said her goodbyes and excused herself saying she needed to finish packing.

"I really did try," I sighed.

"I know you did," McGonagall nodded sympathetically.

"I really wanted to tell her."

"I could tell."

"It's nice that you two still talk," McGonagall said after a brief silence.

I nodded. "All the time."

I wasn't sure if she was surprised that still talked because of our conflicting schedules or because she had broken up with me in our third year after I had come out. We had "dated," if you could call it that, for two days before she decided she was "relationship claustrophobic." Whatever that means. Anyway, after we had broken up, I had tried to get back together with her, but she ended up dating some boy several years above us, Oliver Wood. Quite honestly, I had always thought he was gay. Mind you, the two of them have long since broken up, but whatever: I wash my hands of it.

I sighed and buried my face in my hands, "What am I going to do?"

"Tell her," McGonagall repeated in a singsong voice.

"I can't! What if it destroys our friendship? We're friends!"

"So? Katie and Cho? Friends first. Xiomara and me? Friends first." I glared at her. "Well, if you do tell her, I see it going one of two ways. One is very, very bad."

I swallowed in a vain hope of repressing the fit of nausea that had just overtaken me.

I waited for an explanation, but I never got one. Finally, I just got up. "I suppose I'll try taking me out of the equation."

I sighed, wanting to be able to tell Parvati everything, wanting to get my happy ending.