A/N: You all have my ongoing thanks for being such faithful readers! I so appreciate all the notes and feedback thus far - don't hesitate to let me know what you think!

Thanks as always to adenei for the beta help!

Hell of an argument last time…let's see how Hermione reacts…

Chapter 16: "Screw 'em all. Right, Bridget?"

Small brown crumbs formed a trail down the front of Hermione's t-shirt, remnants of the two brownies she'd devoured over the last ten minutes. The afternoon sunlight streaming in the window caused her to squint and slide over on the couch, her eyes focused on the laptop sitting on the coffee table in front of her. Renee Zelwegger flitted in and out of the picture in her pajamas as Bridget Jones's Diary played on the small screen. It was the perfect movie for the depressed laziness in which Hermione was allowing herself to indulge.

"Screw 'em all. Right, Bridget?" she said to nobody in particular before reaching for another swig of her pinot noir.

At that moment, though, Parvati's key slid into the lock followed by the shoving open of the front door.

"Woah," she said, regarding Hermione with a critical eye. "Uhh, what happened here?"

Hermione scoffed and glared back at her roommate, eyebrows furrowed. "What? I'm done with finals. If I want to lay around on the couch and treat myself, why shouldn't I?"

"I mean, yeah, go for it. I tell you to do that all the time. It's just…wine and movies in the afternoon? Rather unlike you, wouldn't you agree?"

"Ehh, whatever," Hermione said, waving a dismissive hand.

"Whatcha watching?" Parvati asked, stepping around the table. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw the movie. "Jesus, Hermione! Bridget Jones? Alright, spill it. What happened?"

"I like this movie. So what?"

Before she could react, though, her roommate snapped the lid of the computer shut and shifted on the couch to face her more directly. "So what? That's a movie for wallowing, Hermione. Everyone knows that! You don't watch Bridget Jones unless some serious shit just went down. So…what happened?"

"Nothing…I mean, look, nothing happened. I just…I happened to run into Ron earlier today."

A worried look spread across Parvati's face. "Aha. That explains everything. I take it you didn't have a friendly conversation?"

"Not exactly."

"Honestly, good for you. Whatever you said, he probably deserved it. Nobody should get to treat someone the way he treated you and get off scot-free."

As much as Hermione didn't feel like reliving the last few hours, it was nice to hear Parvati step in with strong support. She'd always been a reliable friend that way. Back in high school, kids would pick on Hermione for being nerdy, and Parvati would always stand up to them. It was admirable, a set of skills and confidence that Hermione knew she'd never possessed. Having Parvati in her corner had never let her down.

Which is why she ultimately decided that it wasn't worth trying to hide anything. Parvati would find out anyway.

"He barged into our study roo–my study room at the library with his roommate to prepare for their last exam. I wasn't sure if I wanted to scream at him or break down crying, so I just left. Unfortunately, I must've dropped one of my pills, and he brought it back out to me. We ended up getting in a huge fight in the middle of the quad."

"He brought you your pills? Don't get me wrong, I'm still angry with him on your behalf, but that is a little sweet."

"Parvati!"

"What?!"

"You're supposed to be on my side here!"

Parvati waved her hands and wiped the small grin off her face. "Okay, okay, sorry. Continue."

"So," Hermione persisted, "When he gave me the medication, I lost it. I was sick of all the beating around the bush and ambiguity. I basically asked him straight up if he was interested in me. I was honest and direct, just like we discussed."

"Good for you! I knew you had it in you! What did he say to that?"

The familiar stinging feeling of tears began threatening her eyes again, and she took a deep breath to try to keep it together in front of her friend. "He said he did? Or he still does? I don't know, he was hemming and hawing so much, I felt like I had my answer."

"Hermione! No, stop, don't cry!" Parvati responded, reaching out and rubbing Hermione's arm. "None of this is your fault! He's the one who's missing out!"

"Oh, stop it, Parvati! Stop making me out to be some perfect woman that men should be lining up to try to date. I think that years worth of evidence plainly suggests that I'm not the catch you think I am."

"First of all, yes you are. You absolutely are. Secondly, and more importantly, this is all still really strange and confusing. I mean, it was clear that he had some feelings for you. And then he told you he had feelings for you, even if he was a little flustered when saying it. For him to all of a sudden just…stop caring? It doesn't make sense to me."

"Perhaps he just came to his senses," Hermione bemoaned, reaching for her wine glass again. "Yeah, he probably just realized that he didn't want to be with someone so nerdy and boring and, after today, apparently crazy. Oh, God, I was crazy, wasn't I? I just…word-vomited all over him in front of half of the school! Who does that?"

"Hey, stop doing that!" Parvati replied. The calming stroke of her hands through Hermione's hair allowed her breathing to gradually return to normal after hyperventilating. "Stop blaming yourself! He's the one that left you high and dry, not the other way around. You were there for him every time he needed you! The fact that he couldn't keep his promises reflects poorly on him, not you. You're allowed to be mad about that."

"Maybe so, but it still doesn't excuse my behavior today. That's not me…not the rational version of me, anyhow. I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't worry about that now. What's done is done. And, for the record, I think that demanding answers from Ron was completely reasonable of you. Because as I said, it just doesn't make sense that he would go from clearly smitten to peacing out of any kind of relationship for no reason."

"I feel like I should've never asked him to drive me to my doctor's appointment. I mean, last weekend, things were great. There was nothing else that changed, so it had to be the appointment. It was too much too soon. I probably scared him away. I mean, why did I think that was a good idea? Who asks their crush to go with them to their cardiology appointment?"

Parvati sighed and opened her mouth multiple times before slamming it shut again. Without a word, she stood up and walked back to her room, returning a minute later with a small, leather-bound book. Untying the strap, she opened it up and flipped through it until her face lit up with recognition.

"Let me show you this. It's a diary entry from fifth grade, and it's kind of about you."

"You still have your journals from fifth grade?" Hermione asked with raised eyebrows.

"Mmhmm, saved them all. Anyway, take a look."

As Parvati handed over the book, Hermione's eyes started to glide over the words.

April 21

Dear Diary,

Hermione has been missing school all the time. It kind of makes me scared because I know she's sick. Last time she was there was a week ago and she said she had to go to the doctor three times that week and get a needle in her arm every time. That sounds really scary.

When she comes over to play I worry that she's going to have a problem or something. I know we cant play anything with running because Hermiones mom says she shouldn't run too much. Mom says its fine to play other things and that she's ok. But sometimes we just sit and listen to music because I dont want anything to happen to her. I'd feel really bad if she got more sick at my house.

I hope she comes back to school soon. I also hope she's back to normal soon. I miss her.

By the time Hermione finished reading, her eyes were glistening again, albeit for a completely different reason. Parvati had never shared any of this with her before. Even though she couldn't have been more than eleven years old when she wrote the journal entry, the words were extremely telling. For as long as Hermione had been dealing with her health issues, she always figured they affected her and her parents and nobody else. She never stopped to consider how her best friend had altered her behavior or thought process to make things easier for her.

"Parvati," Hermione blubbered, offering her friend a watery smile. "I don't know what to say."

As her roommate wrapped her in a big hug, Hermione released a sob into her shoulder, her tears quickly moistening the sleeve of Parvati's t-shirt.

"Look, sweetie. I liked Ron, I really did. And I don't know why he did what he did. But if you think it might have to do with him being nervous about your health…let's just say I get it. I understand. I've been there. I've come to understand things much better after being friends with you for years, and I'm much more comfortable with it now. But back in the day? Sometimes I was scared that I would break you or something."

Maybe she's right. Maybe he, like Parvati when she was younger, just didn't want to burden me with all of his totally justifiable apprehension about my situation. Which is silly, because it's my situation, but I suppose it was naive of me to think that my friends can just ignore it. And especially Ron…we've only known each other for a few months…

"You're an amazing friend, Parvati. And for what it's worth, I never got an anxious vibe from you."

"That's good. I tried to keep it to myself…figured you'd rather just be a kid when you had the chance."

"That's exactly what I wanted."

The two women separated, and each dried their eyes with the back of their hand. Hermione gave a long groan as she flopped backward, her head landing on the throw pillow as she closed her eyes. "I don't know what to do."

"Well, let's start here," Parvati answered. "Do you still think you'd like to be with him?"

"Ugh, I don't know. I shouldn't, right? He was a jerk, and I should just drink this wine and find more brownies and watch this movie and forget he exists, shouldn't I?"

"You should do what you want! He clearly didn't handle things correctly, but he also didn't, like, cheat on you or something. He needs to apologize, but I don't know. In my mind, it's not unforgivable."

Maybe Parvati was right? Hermione freely recognized that she had jumped to conclusions when he blew her off, and while it didn't excuse his behavior, maybe there was still hope.

"I don't know," Hermione grumbled, picking up her wine and swirling it in the glass. "Of course I still want to be with him. He's the first guy I've ever met that actually seemed to like me, and up until a couple days ago, I was, I'll admit, kind of obsessed with him. He was amazing. He took an interest in my interests, he was handsome and sweet and flirty…he learned about my pacemaker, for God's sake. He seemed too good to be true. Maybe he was."

"But maybe he was just a really amazing guy who made a mistake. You know I'm fiercely protective of you, and if you want me to hate him and give him the death stare every time I see him, you know I will. I do a mean death stare. But…if you still want there to be a chance? I don't know, maybe give it some time and see how you feel. All hope doesn't have to be lost."

"Assuming he has any interest whatsoever in me, that is."

"I don't know, I doubt that's the issue."

"Maybe."

The possibilities were proving too much for her mind to handle, prompting Hermione to instead take another sip and pull her blanket up over her shoulders. Parvati went into the kitchen and poured herself some wine before rejoining Hermione on the couch. The two of them sat next to each other and clinked glasses before opening the laptop and adjusting the screen so they both could see.

"Might as well lean into the wallowing for the moment, though," Parvati said, giving Hermione a nudge with her shoulder. "I figured you'd be getting a head start on your summer research or medical school applications. But this is much better, honestly. Bridget just started?"

"Yeah, only a few minutes in so far."

"Perfect. Let's do this."

A few hours later, Hermione still felt like she was on an emotional rollercoaster. She found herself sitting across from her mom and dad at Tutto Bene, the Italian restaurant on campus that nobody could afford unless their parents were paying. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had asked to take her out for a celebratory dinner once she was done with classes and final exams. It was clear how proud they were that she did so well, but sometimes their adulations were a little much, especially when she was going through an internal crisis.

"Straight As again, dear? Not that I'm surprised by now, but you continue to impress me," her mother offered.

"Thanks, Mom," Hermione answered in a flat tone. Her fork twisted in a lazy arc around her plate, trying to gather a little more sauce on the one piece of fusilli she had speared. When it fell off the tines, though, her shoulders dropped and she let out a quiet sigh.

Figures. Just when you're about to get that perfect bite, it all falls apart.

"I'm sure that'll look quite impressive to the admissions committee at medical schools. It's a competitive environment, and maintaining a 4.0 GPA can only help!" Mr. Granger agreed.

"I know, it's great."

Her parents' eyes were practically boring through her as they tried to suss out what was bothering their daughter. They were the last people she wanted to discuss her romantic life with, however, prompting her to look up and smile to try to throw them off the trail. It was too late, though, as they looked at each other with concern before turning back to Hermione.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? You've barely touched your food, and it's like all of your energy has been drained right out of you," her mother asked, reaching across the table and laying the back of her hand across Hermione's forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, Mom," Hermione replied, swatting her mother away. "Probably tired, I guess. I've been studying a lot."

"I understand that, dear, but I've never seen you too tired to eat at Tutto Bene. It's always been your favorite restaurant, and the amatriciana has always been your favorite sauce!"

"I'll bring the rest home and have it tomorrow. I promise it won't go to waste."

"You're sure everything is alright?" Mr. Granger asked with a furrowed brow. "Are you worried about your applications?"

"No, I can't even start working on applications for another month. I'm okay, honestly. It's just been a long week."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain young man we met a few weeks back, would it?"

The pasta nearly caught in her throat as she swallowed, forcing her to splutter for a moment as she reached for her water. Once she'd coughed and cleared her airway, she glared back at her mother, shaking her head.

"Mom! Come on, stop it!"

"I'm sorry, dear, but I can't help but notice you're not denying it…"

"That's because it's really none of your business!"

"Hermione, I believe what your mother is trying to say," Mr. Granger started, placing a hand over his wife's, "is that we just want the best for you. You're our only daughter. If something is going wrong in your life, we're going to worry. It's only natural."

After taking a few deep breaths, Hermione wiped her mouth with her napkin and tried to slow her breathing. How did they always manage to find exactly the wrong time to meddle in her personal life? It's like they had some kind of sixth sense for inflicting maximal awkwardness.

"I understand, but there's nothing to worry about. Because there's nothing…there's just…nothing."

"Did you tell him how you feel and he didn't feel the same way?" her mother asked.

"That's preposterous, of course he feels the same way," Mr. Granger interjected. "He's met her, hasn't he? She's delightful!"

"Well we know that, but who knows what he's looking for in a girlfriend."

"I suppose, but could you imagine how delusional he would have to be to not appreciate what a lovely girl our daughter is?"

Mrs. Granger turned to face her husband, excluding Hermione from the conversation completely. Hermione wasn't sure whether it was worse when she was or wasn't involved. "Yes, but college boys are fickle, dear. They're also quite frequently idiots who wouldn't know a quality woman if they beat them over the head with a wiffle ball bat!"

"But it was obvious that time we met him on campus, don't you remember? I could see it on his face plain as day!"

Hermione had long since buried her head in her hands, praying to be miraculously airlifted out of the restaurant by the hand of God, when a familiar figure approached the table.

"Hermione, is that you?" Professor Sprout said, patting her on the back. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I had to come over and say hello. I didn't mean to interrupt your time with…your family?"

Oh my God, could this get any more mortifying?

"Oh, it's no problem," Hermione answered, running a quick hand through her hair. "Yes, Professor Sprout, these are my parents, Richard and Jean Granger. Mom and Dad, this is Professor Sprout. I've been a teaching assistant for her biology class this semester."

"So sorry to interrupt, but I'm very glad to meet you," Professor Sprout said with an enthusiastic handshake for each of them. "Your daughter is the best TA any professor could hope to have."

"Ahh, it's lovely to meet you," Mr. Granger said. "We were just saying the same thing, funnily enough."

Mrs. Granger patted Hermione's hand and offered her an overly-sweet smile. "Yes, we were. It's so nice to meet you. Hermione has told us such nice things!"

"Well, she deserves all the success she has coming to her. If I could have one hundred Hermiones around to help me with classwork and research, I think I'd win a Nobel Prize," Professor Sprout gushed.

"Thank you very much. As a parent, that's always nice to hear!"

"Yes, well, I won't monopolize any more of your time, but I simply had to say hello. Do enjoy the rest of your meal. Hermione, we'll be in touch."

"Sounds good, professor," Hermione said as the older woman retreated to her table.

Once it was just the three of them again, Hermione found herself hoping that her parents would choose any other conversation topic besides the one they had left off. Her mother, however, wouldn't be deterred.

"Now, dear," she started. "You never said. What happened between you and Ron?"

"Nothing, Mom! Why can't you just believe me!"

Mrs. Granger placed her silverware along the side of her plate and dabbed the corners of her lips with her napkin before staring up at her daughter. "Hermione, I consider myself a lucky parent. My daughter was always truthful with me. Well, almost always. The incidental byproduct of her infrequent lying, however, is the inability to do so with any credibility."

God, she could be so annoying. Unfortunately, she was also exactly right. Hermione always told the truth growing up, so much so that when she did lie, her mother called her bluff like a professional poker player with a full house staring down a mountain of chips.

"Fine, Mom…fine. I thought it would work out and then it didn't. I don't really know what happened. He just lost interest, I guess."

"You're sure?" Mr. Granger asked, leaning closer to her across the table.

"Pretty sure, Dad."

"Well," her mother continued, eyebrows drooping, "I'm sorry to hear that. Truly, I am. He seemed like a nice young man. But I'll just say this. If it's still what you want, don't be afraid to fight for it. Nothing worth having comes easy."

"I know, Mom, I know."

It took a couple more minutes and a few more small bites of pasta before her mother's point finally caught up with her. Fight for it. Fight for him.

Is that even what I want, though? Do I want to be with someone who's just proven himself to be wholly unreliable? He literally said, 'You're just my tutor.' Even if he was just trying to dodge my questions, isn't that still saying a lot? Is it worth putting myself out there, dangling in a vulnerable position where he could simply destroy me all over again? Medical school is only a few years away; I could always just wait and see who I meet there.

But as she continued to engage in small talk with her parents over the tiramisu they insisted on ordering for her, she couldn't stop thinking about the possibility of confronting Ron. Everyone who truly loved her and knew her well was telling her how much they suspected that he still cared about her. Could it be that she was the one who was being overly critical? It was hard to consider given that she was still nursing a broken heart, but she couldn't deny that part of her missed the feeling of being wrapped in his strong arms.

Ugh, that's so pathetic. I'm not that girl. I can't just run back to him and try to get him back because I miss his hugs.

But can I do it because I miss him?

He would have to apologize for standing her up, of course. Profusely. Repeatedly. Preferably while bearing gifts. And she had to prepare herself for the possibility that he just wasn't interested in her at all and would think she was crazy if she approached him again. But the more she remembered all of their previous interactions, the more she doubted he would react that way. Parvati and her parents weren't just imagining things. There was something there, something she would very much like to have back.

By the time they finished dessert and her parents drove her back to her apartment, Hermione had resolved to give it a shot. If he just echoed his previous statement that she was nothing more than a tutor to him, then at least she could say she tried. But if he finally opened up in the way she hoped he would, they might be able to start repairing the damage. And that would be worth putting in the work.

"Parvati, I'm home! I've been thinking a lot about what we talked about…Parvati, are you here?" Hermione asked as she closed the door behind her.

As she tossed her bag onto the small table in the entryway, her roommate swept around the corner. "I'm here, I'm here. What's up?"

"So I was talking with my parents, which was not when I was expecting to have an epiphany about Ronald Weasley, but I think I've decided to try to talk with him. Just to see how it goes. Somewhere less public, of course."

Parvati folded her arms across her chest and gave Hermione a once over, scanning her critically. "How much wine did you have at dinner?"

"What? None, I promise."

"Hermione, I'm serious. You absolutely cannot make these decisions even slightly buzzed."

"I haven't had anything to drink since this afternoon, I swear! Now, what do you think?" Hermione asked, plopping down on the sofa and throwing her arm over the back cushion.

"Well, there are pros and cons, right?" Parvati explained as she sat down next to her friend. "I mean, on the one hand, in a more private setting, he may be more willing to open up, be a little vulnerable. Which could be good or bad, of course. Just because I think he still might have feelings for you doesn't mean he does, nor does it mean he would say anything even if he did. On the other hand, it might–"

Hermione continued to watch Parvati's lips move, but the more her roommate spoke, the more she started to have an inkling that she wasn't absorbing the words any longer. Tightness gripped her chest as the edges of her vision started to dim. Sweat was beading up across her forehead, and she felt like she might explode if she didn't take off the light cardigan she was still wearing. The living room was slowly spinning in hazy revolutions, lamp light streaking across her field of view. Her body was swaying, and she leaned back and placed a hand over her chest.

Boom boom.

…

…

Boom boom.

…

…

Boom boom.

No, that's too slow. Something's not right.

"Hermione?"

The sound came from somewhere in front of her, but she couldn't pinpoint the location. Everything was blurry, and the apartment was quickly fading. Her hands felt cold; no, everything felt cold. Why was it so cold? Was there a window open? Maybe it's winter? Or…wait, where was she?

"Hermione! Hermione, are you okay?!"

Boom boom.

…

…

Boom boom.

"Hermione! I'm calling 911! Hermione! HERMIONE!"