A/N- I don't own any of these characters, who belong to JKR. I'll leave a longer Author's Note at the bottom.

Tears burned in her eyes, unshed. What a right mess today had turned out to be. They'd won the cup, hadn't they? Ron had played absolutely brilliantly, and she'd cheered him on until she was hoarse. For a moment, it appeared that he wanted to go somewhere to be alone. Had even asked her to go somewhere more private to talk. Until she'd come back and he was suddenly pale, shaking and angry. All of her hard work and determination had been ruined by Quidditch. It made her want to scream.

Instead she hucked her usual bag of books slightly higher on her shoulder and walked the familiar path towards the library.

How dare he.

She cursed the fact that Ron could still have such an effect on her, even after all these years. How was she supposed to know that Ron wanted to be asked to play professionally? He went green and didn't eat before every match! That did not make a sustainable career! Not to mention the only thing he and Harry had ever mentioned was wanting to be Aurors after Hogwarts. If he had just said he wanted to play, she would have supported him. But no. Once again, Ron was expecting her to be a mind reader.

Try as hard as she might to believe that this was the only reason she was angry, she pushed down the terrifying feeling that he'd been partially right. After all, her mind was so caught up in the idea of getting Harry through You-Know-Who safely that she'd barely had time to think about what she wanted to do after graduation. She couldn't even be sure she'd survive Hogwarts.

Her breath hitched and she paused at the top of the stairs. Without warning the staircase shifted, so that she was now going on a less direct route to the library. She groaned in frustration. All she wanted to do was sit down with her books and collect her thoughts. Surely that wasn't too much to ask.

Her footsteps echoed as she made her way down a corridor. What Ron didn't understand was that absolutely she was spoiled for choice when it came to different ministry departments, but that her parents had certain expectations. She'd gotten an earful in Davos when she wasn't able to list four treatments for acne that Grey's recommended. Never mind that she hadn't been studying for eventual acceptance into medical school, but rather attempting to save the greater wizarding world. When not berating her for her supposed "lack of academic interest," her mother had been particularly non-subtle about pushing her towards the other boys of their circle in Switzerland. As though any of the Algernons or Clarences could really give a flying hoot about her. That was what her parents wanted-perfect Hermione who would have gone through a rather unorthodox schooling, but would put that all behind her to go to Cambridge, get her dental licence and fall in love with a solidly middle-class doctor who would hold dinner parties and discuss the political landscape of Great Britain with them.

They'd never asked her what she wanted. Though she didn't really know if she had an answer. What did she want? Harry alive. Harry and Ron and the rest of the Weasleys to make it through the war unscathed. You-Know-Who defeated. If making that happen meant isolating herself from her parents, so be it. In order to facilitate this, she spent so much time in the library learning about potentially helpful skills, not daring to let Harry or Ron see. Someone had to look out for Harry, and she'd long suspected that Dumbledore was not entirely wholesome in the way he'd singled Harry out.

The Bloody Baron drifted past her as she made her way down yet another corridor. Thank Merlin she was nearly at the doors. Then she could just pull her books out, take out a quill and-

'Heading to the library?' a familiar soft voice asked. Hermione turned her head to see Terry sitting on a windowsill, large book in hand. His cheeks were scrubbed pink from the earlier wind at the match.

'Yes,' Hermione replied tersely, shifting her weight to accommodate the bag a little better.

'Out of luck, I'm afraid,' he told her with a rueful smile.

'But it's open until 8!' She dropped her bag with an exaggerated thud.

'Pince had to break up 4 arguments over whether Ravenclaw should've won the cup. After the last one she just screeched at all of us to get out and come back tomorrow when we had our heads screwed on straight.' His dark curls shook with his laughter. The afternoon light streaming through the stained glass shone a rainbow in his hair.

'Brilliant,' huffed Hermione. 'Evidently Quidditch is the most important thing everywhere in the castle!'

Terry shut his book, being careful to mark his page. Hermione noted he was reading the 1996 Acquisitions of the Odwella Institute. Odwella was the finest Ancient Runes body in Europe. They were churning out translations at a rate she never thought possible. Terry certainly was interested in the subject if he was reading about their latest finds in his downtime. She watched him sit up straighter and frown at her.

'Celebration going strong up in your tower then?'

'Something like that.' She picked at the skin around her thumb, trying to ignore the prickling feeling of tears at the back of her throat.

'Well I don't think Quidditch is worth fighting over,' mumbled Terry. 'It's just a game.'

Hermione gave a hollow laugh. 'Tell that to the Weasleys.'

There was a beat of silence. Hermione could feel Terry watching her, but couldn't bring herself to look back at him. In her head, she was trying to plan out where she might be able to study in silence for a few hours before returning to clear out the party. Eventually she settled on the Transfiguration classroom. Large enough for guaranteed silence, but far enough away from Gryffindor Tower that she wouldn't be tempted to head back their and give Ron a piece of her mind.

She reached down for the handle of her bag. 'Thanks for letting me know, Terry, I'll be sure to-'

'Wanna see something?' he interrupted. She looked at him in surprise. His eyes were round, laden with expectation.

She blew out air from her mouth. Thought about it for a moment, then looked at him with a tired smile.

'Sure.'

He hopped off the ledge, rather gracefully, she noted, and started off back down the corridor she'd just come from.

'Follow me!' he called behind him. Hermione picked up her bag and set off down the hallway with him. Terry kept up a steady stream of conversation along the way, for which Hermione was immensely grateful. She found herself nodding at most of his points about their shared classes, and snickering where she felt it was appropriate. Her mind however, kept going back to Ron's sneer as he told her she didn't have a clue what hardship in regards to her future felt like.

'Here we are,' Terry said after a few moments of silence. They were in another deserted corridor. Hermione looked up to see a portrait in a large gilded frame.

A grizzled man stared at her. Eyes so dark they were nearly black watched her with laser precision. His charcoal curls were tied back in a low ponytail. An angry red scar marred his pale left cheek. He wore clothing of the 17th century, complete with collar and robes. A beautiful ruby ring shone on his right hand. His left clutched a long, gnarled wand. Unlike most of the portraits at Hogwarts, this one remained silent as they gazed upon him, eyes wary and darting between Hermione and Terry. She forced herself to look away from the man and peered down at the inscription on the bottom.

'Webster…Boot?' she read aloud, turning to look at Terry in surprise at the end. 'An ancestor of yours?'

'Five or six times Great-Grandfather, I think?' Terry replied, looking up at his relatives face with cheerful inquisitiveness. 'I reckon I have his nose.'

Hermione looked at Terry, then back at Webster. They did appear to be sharing this one physical attribute.

'Your hair is much nicer than his,' Hermione felt the words come out of her mouth before she could stop them. Terry chuckled.

'I'm pretty sure anybody would look like a hair model compared to that.'

She focused back on the portrait, willing her burning cheeks to temper down.

'Do you know much about him?' she asked, looking at the detailing in Webster's austere outfit. The artist had been exceptionally talented. One could almost see the threading in the intricate embroidery.

'Hermione Granger, I'm shocked. Isn't this where you give me a detailed life description of one of the founders of Ilvermorny?' Terry replied, giving her a cheeky grin.

Hermione shot Terry a look. 'Some of us were a bit too busy studying to amuse ourselves by learning about America.'

Terry laughed. 'Point taken.'

'Besides,' Hermione sniffed. 'Everyone knows about the founding of Ilvermorny. I just don't know what happened to him after he graduated.'

'He toured America for a while,' Terry said. 'Started working as an Auror for Hire.'

'Of course he was an Auror,' Hermione muttered under her breath, still feeling mutinous towards Ron for earlier.

'At one point he was working in New York, trying to catch a thief when he met Frenella. He accused her of being the thief's accomplice, but she tore him a new one and proved that she'd been in New Jersey at the time of the robbery. Then she told him to get the stick out of his arse and do better at his job. Evidently he was well taken with the Scottish witch, because when she set sail back to Glasgow, he took the next ship out to meet her.'

'He followed her to Scotland?' Hermione asked, beginning to get interested in spite of herself.

'Yep, and hounded Frenella to marry him. Apparently it took five proposals before she finally agreed.'

'Five?' Hermione repeated, shocked. 'Did she have someone else in mind?'

Terry shook his head, his curls following the motions. 'No, she just wanted to make sure he was serious, and of a sound mind. Most people in those days didn't pack up their lives and head across the sea for a witch they met once.' He glanced at Hermione, who suddenly felt warm under his scrutiny. She coughed.

'But she decided he was.'

'She did. They went on to have 8 kids, all of whom stayed in the UK. Meanwhile Webster's brother Chadwick married back in America and went on to form one of the most politically powerful families in Wizarding history.'

They both looked up at the portrait once more. This man, with his stern face and dark eyes seemed incongruous with the person Terry was describing. Someone who would rush to be with a woman he loved. Who had a large family, and seemed to provide for them. Someone so certain in their decisions.

'Must be nice,' Hermione mused aloud. She hadn't realized she'd voiced her thoughts.

'What must be nice?' Panic rose in her. Speaking about the difficulties of what lay ahead for her was decidedly not something she should discuss with Terry.

'To have an ancestor on the wall,' she fibbed. There was a gleam in Terry's eyes as he glanced at her. A smile curved his lips.

'As if you won't be in a corridor someday, Miss Brightest Witch of the Age.'

Hermione blushed at the compliment. They looked back at Webster, Terry taking the opportunity to step closer to her.

'Why doesn't he speak?' she asked, hoping to keep Terry engrossed in the story.

'He was cursed. Bad run in with a hag who ate his tongue. My nan told me by the end of his life, he and Frenella were communicating through sign language only.'

'Oh my.' This was all Hermione could think to say.

'Didn't stop him though-Webster kept right on being an Auror until the day he died. Wrote that not being able to speak gave him a sneaky advantage. Said he loved his job nearly as much as Frenella and his kids. And it stopped people from making fun of his accent.'

Hermione frowned again at the portrait. Yet another example of someone who knew what they wanted in life and went for it. Why did she have to be so concerned for Harry?

'Believe it or not, that's the boring side of my family,' quipped Terry, running his finger over the frame to check for dust.

'Really?' Hermione asked, interested once more in spite of herself.

'Yeah, my Mum's Hungarian. Old Counts-used to keep vampires as friends, network of tunnels under the palace, hid muggleborns during Grindelwald's time, whole shebang.'

'Your family is so interesting,' Hermione told him. Terry beamed at her.

'You don't talk much about yours,' he noted. Hermione grew uncomfortable and crossed her arms in front of her. Any mention of her parents made her chest tighten.

'Not much to tell, I'm afraid.' Terry seemed to understand that this was a line he didn't want to cross.

'Thank you for showing me this,' Hermione switched the subject, hoping to deflect once more. 'It's nice to learn about your past.'

'I only found dear old great-grandad the other day,' Terry admitted, removing a spot of lint from the gleaming nameplate. 'You're the first person I've shown.'

Hermione felt her cheeks redden again. Terry looked at her and suddenly she could see some of that sharp determination from Webster's eyes in his descendent. The tension between them became as thick as Fred and George's portable swamps.

'What do you want to do after Hogwarts?' she blurted out, unable to take much more of the silence.

Terry paused for a moment, seeming to decide something. 'I want to be a translator at the Odwella Institute.'

She felt her heart sink. Everyone seemed to have an idea about their next steps.

'I don't know what I want to do,' she admitted. 'Sometimes it feels like there's so much to get through before the end of my education that I'm not sure…'

'You don't have to be sure of your next steps.' Terry's tone was fierce. She looked at him. His face turned to hers, eyes searching and deep. 'If anybody here didn't need to know what their next step was going to be, it'd be you. Every department is probably chomping at the bit to have you. Hell, you could basically teach half the classes here already.'

'That's very flattering of you to say,' Hermione began primly. 'But I-'

'You spend so much time thinking about the future,' Terry pointed out, his curls jostling once more as he shook his head. 'You should spend more time thinking about the present.'

Hermione gave a hollow laugh. 'Oh? And what is there to think about in the present? The party I'm missing upstairs? The Quidditch facts to endlessly discuss?'

Terry took a step closer to her. Hermione was acutely aware of how little space there was between them now.

'Someone upset you,' he noted.

'It doesn't matter.'

Another step.

'Yes it does. You don't deserve to be upset.'

'I…'

Another step.

Her heartbeat was in her throat.

'Are you upset now?' His breath smelled sweet, minty. Although his colouring was slightly darker than hers, for the first time she noticed how pink his lips were. She didn't have to strain up to see them either. His height was well matched with hers.

'No,' she whispered.

'Good. Live in the present, Hermione,' he admonished, as he reached out and caressed her cheek. She felt her breath catch. 'Just be.'

With that, he dipped his face down to hers and caught her lips with his own. She made a small squeak. It had been a long time since Viktor had kissed her goodbye. This was different. This was sensual. Her eyes fluttered shut.

He wrapped one arm around her waist and drew her closer. She let him. Then his tongue danced across her lips, begging for entrance. She let him.

She'd never been snogged like this before, her fists curled in between their bodies, in front of a portrait in a corridor where anyone could see. It thrilled her. He pushed them against the stone wall, deepening the kiss. She felt warm. She felt alive. For a moment she lost herself in the kiss, tilting her head, and letting one hand reach deep into his thick hair. She felt his hand trace her cheek, and she was amazed at how soft it was, how no calluses littered the palm, which was strange because usually after Quidditch, Ron's hands were….

She froze.

Immediately she tore her lips away from Terry, staring at him as though in shock.

'I have to go,' she whispered.

'Hermione,' he moaned, his breathing ragged. 'What?'

'I have to go,' she repeated, leaving his arms and grabbing her bag. 'Talk later.'

She sprinted out of the corridor, horrified with herself. Terry was calling to her in the distance, but she didn't dare turn back. Thanking the Marauders for the first time in her life, she ducked through a tapestry into a secret passage. It wasn't until she was three floors above, tucked in alcove behind a suit of armour that she allowed herself to breathe fully once more. Hands shaking, chest rattling, she debated on her next course of action.

The way she saw things at present, she had three options.

One: Return to the Common Room and the party.

Two: Find Terry and apologize profusely.

Three: Hide.

On the whole, none of these appealed to her. She wasn't even sure how she was going to look at Terry ever again. What on earth had processed her to kiss him back? By the same token, she didn't think she could fathom seeing Ron at the moment. He was already upset with her, and if word got back about what she'd just done…their friendship had only been reconciled because of his poisoning. Merlin knew she didn't think he'd be all sunshine and roses if he found out Hermione had left to snog somebody. He'd been upset enough seeing Harry and Ginny kiss!

This left option three. The cowardly option. The decidedly non-Gryffindor action. She wasn't sure what else to do. At minimum, she had to figure out what to say to both of them. Speaking had never been her strong suit, as attempting to help Ron this morning had shown. If she didn't have a plan, she could only muck things up further.

She peeked around the armour. The corridor was empty. From memory, she realized was near the Arithmancy room. The thought calmed her. Numbers and calculations. Now that was something she could wrap her head around. Perhaps being in her academic haven would help her solve things.

As it turned out, not even her favourite classroom could ease the confusion swirling in her thoughts. Though she managed to complete her Chart for the week, she remained every inch as befuddled as to what to do about this new predicament. With a sigh, she put down her quill and kneaded her tense forehead with her fingers. Though she longed to put the events of the last few hours behind her, she knew that she needed to sort herself out first.

The first big unknown was Terry. Evidently he fancied her. It seemed strange, given that he'd only left Padma a few weeks earlier. This seemed to come out of nowhere. Well, slightly less nowhere than when Viktor asked her to the Yule Ball, but in this case there was no language barrier.

No, Terry was clearly interested. He'd sat beside her at the match. He'd tried to make her feel better about the library being closed. He'd taken her to see his ancestor. Then he'd kissed her. He'd wanted to continue to kiss her.

And the fact remained that she had let him. Emotions had never been her strong suit, but she was fairly certain people in Norway could have seen that kiss coming. She didn't stop it.

Did that mean she fancied Terry?

But that didn't make sense, because she'd thought about kissing Ron while they were embracing. Surely if one was imagining another person, that didn't bode well, did it? For a moment she visualized snogging Ron and trying to think about Terry. The thought made her squirm. Even in this state of confusion, she had no doubt that she'd rather be kissing Ron.

The question was, did Ron want to snog her? He hadn't reacted this morning to their accidental lip brush. While he had asked her if they could go somewhere alone to chat, there was no indication as to what it was about. For all she knew, he wanted to talk about why she'd never brought up that Harry fancied Ginny before. Then there were the snide comments he'd made about the future. The words still stung.

Taking the evidence into account, she seemed to be stuck between one who wanted her, and one who she wanted. If only it could be the same person!

She groaned in frustration. Lifting her face up, she gazed out of the window. The sun was beginning to set. A flock of birds took flight out of the Forbidden Forest. She watched as they formed a v, arching out over the sky. How nice it would be to just fly away.

She glanced back down at her completed chart. There wasn't much point in hiding any longer. At some point she'd have to face people again. Rolling up the parchment, she stuck it back into her bag. Her fingers touched the worn lining of an ancient book. Some old tome about the power of Hereditary Objects. She'd been reading bits of the book in an effort to see if it might share some of the magical characteristics of what Harry had described Horcruxes to be like.

She laughed at herself. Here she was worrying about boys when Harry needed to worry about the future of the wizarding world! She chided herself for being so selfish. No. Harry had to come first. Whatever that meant in terms of dealing with Ron and Terry, she would figure out along the way. Priorities needed to be sorted.

The corridors were just as quiet as she made her way back up to the tower. Her footsteps echoed against the stone. By the time she'd reached the hall closest to Gryffindor Tower, she could already make out the strains of raucous music continuing to play. For once, she found she didn't have the energy to do much in the way of reprimanding students. Giving the password to the Fat Lady, she entered the Common Room to find some of the Third Years doing a limbo contest.

'Hermione!' Ginny and Harry were curled together in one armchair near the fire. The redhead was beaming, face flushed and eyes sparkling. Harry was chatting to Katie across from her, clearly not paying attention to Ginny waving her over. Hermione obliged. While she approached, she kept her eyes peeled for Ron. To her surprise, she didn't see him anywhere.

'There you are!' Ginny sighed, untangling her legs from Harry's and getting up to greet Hermione. 'Where have you been?'

The image of being alone with Terry next to Boot's portrait swam in Hermione's brain. She could do no more than blush before Ginny had grabbed her arm and was leading her towards a more private corner of the tower. The second they were alone, Ginny took both of Hermione's arms and shook them.

'Thank you!'

'For what?' Hermione asked, confused. Ginny laughed.

'What do you mean, for what? For Harry! For all your advice!'

Hermione blushed. 'Oh, that. Well I-'

'Don't be so modest. You're the one that told me he would come around, and he did.'

Ginny's eyes had turned back to Harry. There was a serenity to Ginny's face that Hermione only recalled seeing during Quidditch matches.

'You're welcome, I suppose.' Hermione wasn't sure what else to say. Ginny snapped back to look at her and dropped her arms.

'I owe you big time. First you give me help with homework, and then your advice just gave me the best snog I've ever-'

'Spare me the details!' Hermione threw her hands up in defense. She felt her face pinken. Obviously this was a normal part of relationships. But this was Harry for Merlin's sake! It felt plain wrong to think of him like that.

Ginny laughed. 'Right. Good to know Witch Weekly was way off the mark.'

'That old article?' Hermione snorted. 'Rita never got any of that right. Harry's just…no.'

Ginny grinned. 'Harry is wonderful.' Seeing Hermione's face beginning to scowl, Ginny changed tracks. 'But okay, understood! No gory details, I promise.'

'Thank you,' Hermione said, grateful she would be spared this knowledge. 'Congratulations on being MVP by the way. It's been quite a day for you.'

Ginny grinned. 'I'd almost forgot about being MVP! Can't wait to write to Charlie and tell him.'

'And you got scouted, I hear.'

Ginny's grin turned quickly to a frown.

'What are you talking about?'

Hermione stared at her. 'The Tornadoes person? After the match?'

Ginny was utterly perplexed. 'What are you on about?'

'I…Ron said you'd been scouted by the Tornadoes.'

Ginny threw her head back and let out a big guffaw. 'As if I'd ever play for the Tornadoes. What a terrible team.' She snickered as she returned to looking at Hermione. 'Besides, there's no way there was a Tornadoes rep today; they're off playing in Uganda at the moment.'

Hermione felt a wave of exhaustion hit her. From the corner of her eye she watched Harry look around, having noticed that Ginny had left. He spotted Ginny's hair, and his face broke into a grin. Hermione's heart lifted marginally at the sight of his happiness.

'Anyway, Dumbledore banned any outsiders from coming to the match. Who knows where Ron got that from.'

Of course there hadn't been any scouts. Ron had just been filled with self-deprecation for no reason.

'Hey Hermione,' Harry said as he saddled up next to Ginny. 'No need to worry about a play-by-play. Ginny's told me all about the match.' Ginny grinned up at him and reached an arm around his waist. Harry beamed back.

'Glad to hear it.' Hermione didn't feel much of anything other than tiredness. 'I think I'll go up to bed.'

Neither Ginny nor Harry seemed particularly put out by this.

'Just, if you see Ron, can you tell him about the scouts?' Hermione asked Ginny as she turned towards the staircase. 'He was quite upset that he didn't get approached.'

'Sure, Hermione,' Ginny replied.

Hermione waved at both of them, trudging up the stairs as she heard Harry ask what she meant by scouts. All in all, it had been a confusing day. Merlin only knew what tomorrow would bring.

A/N: At the very least, movement happened. I'm sure some of you will be yelling from your screens, which is fair. I must confess, I was yelling at Terry as I wrote this chapter. Things will continue to be complicated in the story (this certainly isn't a fluff piece, much as I love to read them.) The next chapter may bring some clarity, but who knows!

Thank you for reading! Send me your comments. I'm ready!

Lots of love,

Ashy