Gaslighting Hermione

You're Literally Just Imagining Things

The afternoon, if possible, was even worse.

First, Hermione, recognizing the delicacy of the situation, had opted to chaperon Harry and Romilda's 'study session', though it felt like it would overly complicate things to actually let Harry know about that. The situation among the sixth year Gryffindors had moved from 'hostage negotiation' to 'bomb just went off' and there was no real need to add to that, let alone give Lavender some more ammunition for her ridiculous ideas. Fortunately, Harry had a magical map that revealed the precise location of everyone in the school, and a magical cloak that made the wearer invisible. So, no real problems there.

Though Neville had looked at her a little suspiciously this time when she'd gone through Harry's trunk, and Hermione couldn't shake the sense that she looked like a criminal, which was absurd. She couldn't let Lavender or Romilda get to her.

Not that it mattered, because the cloak and map weren't even in the trunk! Hermione's brain whirred, if Harry had them on him, if somehow Romilda had tricked him into revealing his greatest treasures just like that, then things were worse than she thought. And then another thought came to her, tying all her awful thoughts together into a single cohesive explanation – maybe Lavender was in on this too. That would explain the perfectly-timed pantomime this afternoon just when Romilda had needed outside help the most.

Second, without the cloak or map she probably needed backup if she was going to follow Harry around without looking like she was following Harry around. And because of the big misunderstanding earlier, she figured this wasn't the time to ask for help about this from most people she might normally go to. Especially since one of them was her target.

Fortunately, at least Ginny seemed to have her head square on her shoulders, and as gloomy as she was looking right now, she could probably use something to keep her mind occupied from the unpleasantness earlier.

"I dunno, Hermione. Feels a bit weird and Dean would probably take it the wrong way if he found out."

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "Nobody's going to find out. We just have to make sure Romilda doesn't kiss Harry again."

"Again!" Ginny sounded like Crookshanks when someone stepped on his tail.

Hermione made frantic shushing motions with her hands, then after a quick glance around, pulled out her wand and cast a simple privacy charm. Ginny mouthed an apology then lowered her voice anyway. "What do you mean, again?"

Hermione bit her lip. Then, seeing Ginny's now mutinous glare, she decided to come clean lest this blow up yet again.

"Someone cast a lip-locking curse on Harry and Romilda in the quidditch broomshed the other day," she explained. "Harry thought it was Malfoy but honestly, I think Romilda somehow did it when he wasn't looking. Fortunately I rescued him, and Harry seemed pretty upset about it, unfortunately at the wrong person this time."

Ginny glowered. "That little... that harlot." She hissed. "Why are you only telling me this now? This completely changes everything."

Hermione gave an awkward shrug. "I didn't want to infringe on Harry's privacy, especially since he doesn't seem to realize what Vane's really up to and he was the victim here. He actually apologized for kissing her, he said he wouldn't have done it if he had been in control."

Ginny let out a breath of air. "That's good, then." A pause. "Alright, what's the plan to stop Hoemilda?"

The plan was good. The plan nonetheless fell apart immediately. Or at least as soon as it took them to reach the Remedial Potions lab at quarter-to-four and realize at half-past that nobody was coming.

Hermione knocked on Professor Slughorn's door just across the hall.

"Hello, ah, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley, two of my favorite students, though don't go around advertising that! Not here for remedial studies are you, can't imagine either of you need it." He gave a great guffaw at his own comment that sent his whiskers twitching, looking every bit like a good-natured walrus. Still, that was a very nice thing for him to say-

"With you both being so close to Mister Potter. I dare say in a year or so he could teach me a thing or two around the cauldron." Or not.

"Actually," Hermione kept her thoughts to herself for the sake of the mission. "It's funny you say that. We were just looking for Harry – I think he was going to help one of the fourth years with calming droughts?"

"Ah, yes, yes." Slughorn beamed. "You know, I spoke to him the other day about that – he wants to be an Auror, I'm sure you know. And being able to pass on information in an easily understood way is just as important as being able to apply it yourself. It's not just for us professors you know, though it's less risky on the limbs. Still, in my younger days I did consider..."

"Sorry, Professor, so you've seen him?" Ginny cut into Slughorn's reminiscing.

"Yes, I'm afraid you just missed him."

Hermione frowned. "We were here well before four."

Slughorn nodded. "Yes, and Harry and Miss Vane were in the lab from a bit before three until half-past."

"Are you sure?"

Slughorn's friendly expression soured at her sharpness. "I'm quite sure, Miss Granger. I am not in the habit of leaving potion labs unlocked, nor do I tend to forget meeting with my best student and seeing him passing on his talents to his delightful lady friend. So unless you think your friend has been making polyjuice – though with his talents, that's not impossible! - I'm afraid I can only restate that you've missed him."

"Right um... well, thank you, Professor."

"Good day Miss Granger, Miss Weasley."

"Well, I guess that's that, then." Ginny muttered glumly.

"Not necessarily." Hermione pulled out her wand. "Point Me, Harry Potter."

"It's a castle, Hermione, that is never going to actually take us to Harry." That they weren't supposed to use magic in the halls was never even considered by either of them as relevant to their situation.

"It doesn't need to," Hermione replied. "We just need to know the general area where he is – from there we can logically deduce down the places he might be. We can also check to see if, you know... Point Me,Romilda Vane."

The wand did not move. Hermione grimaced. "Right, that."

What followed was the worst game of blind-man's bluff through the halls of Hogwarts, where any semblance of linear travel could at any moment be reduced to tears by moving staircases, roving doorways, professors who might have a question as to what they were up to, and one time a hallway that somehow circled back on itself until they politely asked it to stop doing so.

It wasn't until they were going up the fifth floor staircase that for whatever reason started in a broom closet and ended at a broad balcony overlooking Hogsmeade and came across a very angry, very visibly distressed Malfoy coming down in the opposite direction that Hermione felt a glint hope they were going in the right direction. Malfoy usually looked like that these days when he was around Harry, even if the idea he was a full-fledged Death Eater was a little far-fetched.

Her elation turned to horror as they rounded the corner of the portrait of a chestnut destrier in gleaming armor riding into battle on a knight in foolscap and she realized that they were only one hallway removed from the one where there was a tapestry of dancing trolls.

"He wouldn't," Ginny gasped, sounding utterly scandalized and clearly realizing where exactly in the castle they were.

"Not on purpose," Hermione defended. "But if he was tricked."

The two girls ran.

"Point Me, Harry Potter."Hermione whispered. Her wand swung towards the wall opposite the tapestry.

"Point Me, Romilda Vane." Ginny followed suit. Her wand sat in her hand parallel to Hermione's.

Butterflies threatened to explode out her chest. She walked in front of the wall three times.

Nothing happened.

"This is ridiculous," Ginny hissed after the third time of no door appearing. "This never happens. What's wrong with it!?"

Hermione had already been working through the implications. "What if," she said at last, voicing her dread. "What if Romilda added something to the room? Something like, 'I need a room nobody else can enter'?"

Ginny froze in her circles. Her face morphed into a drawn out expression of horror. "Then Harry's trapped! With... with that scarlet woman. Ginny's vernacular didn't fall too far from Ron's when push came to shove, apparently, but now was not the time to point that out.

Hermione wasn't the brightest witch of her age without reason though, and naturally she had already started looking for loopholes to Romilda's most treacherous and nefarious plot yet.

She began to pace.

I need a room that can only be entered after someone has made a room nobody can enter.

Nothing.

I need a room that Romilda Vane thinks she can keep people out of.

Nothing.

I need a room that lets me be in the same room as Harry Potter.

Nothing.

She clenched her fists. If only she could see what was going on, maybe she could think of something.

A door-sized window appeared in the wall, appearing in a bubbling wave as if the stone had melted right in front of her, first into a dark grey glass and then becoming transparent and flawless as alchemic crystal. Ginny gasped. Hermione looked inside. Her heart threatened to jump out her throat.

If Harry and Romilda had been snogging like wild animals again, it might have been another devious spell on Romilda's part that could be rationally explained. If they had been – she didn't know – engaged in activities that would have given Ginny's epithets some credence, she would have been horrified but it could have been written off as just something gone terribly wrong. Harry would have been blameless.

Instead, her eyes started to sting.

Harry and Romilda were... they were cuddling. The room was a smaller version of the Gryffindor common room, without the extra tables and cupboards of games and books and the like; just a single over-sized couch with the easily recognized goose down pillows and a roaring fire, with a little table on it with two cups and a teapot. Harry was sprawled in the chair and Romilda sat in his lap, legs splayed over the far armrest. Harry was smiling and they were both just... reading. Not even to each other or anything, Harry had some textbook – probably the book but that wasn't important right now.

Romilda was reading a magazine of some sort, and they were just sitting there, Romilda was snuggled into the crook of Harry's arm that was holding his own book, his arm brushing lazily across Romilda's hip as she wiggled on his lap every now and then, barefoot and doing a fair impression of an oversized cat resting against him. She was leaning slightly into him and turned to let his other hand play slowly with her hair. They didn't even seem to actively notice what they were doing, they were just there. Together.

Ginny's voice broke Hermione out of the trainwreck playing out before her.

"You told me that Harry didn't like girls who throw themselves at him." She sounded betrayed.

"He doesn't," Hermione replied at once, eyes frozen looking into the window.

"Well what's this, then?" Ginny bit back. Hermione didn't have an answer for that.

Before Ginny could start up again, Romilda's head suddenly turned and she was looking right at them. Hermione froze. Ginny froze. A Cheshire grin unfurled on Romilda's face, highlighting her already prominent chin, honestly Harry could do better.

But apparently Harry disagreed, because Romilda put down her magazine and leaned even deeper into Harry, lowering her head to his and pushing tiny little pecks onto his lower lip as her hands dug under his robes and against his chest. He grinned and tossed away his own book, arms encircling her waist and twirling her a little bit so she now straddled him, her hands abandoning his chest in order to instead clasp around his neck and then the playful pecks became a slow, deep kiss. Nothing like what she had witnessed in the broomshed.

Hermione felt sick.

"Let's get out of here," Ginny said after another minute of watching the scene play out before them. "I can't stomach this."

"We need to make sure Harry is alright!" Hermione called back at Ginny's retreating form.

"Yeah, you do that, I'm going to go and apologize to Dean."

Hermione turned between the tableau going on in the Room of Requirements, and Ginny's crestfallen profile walking away. She chased after Ginny.

"It's not what it looks like. It isn't." She grabbed Ginny's wrist. Ginny tensed, but didn't pull away.

"Maybe Lavender was right," Ginny said after a minute, wiping at her eyes with her free hand. "Maybe we need to be better friends."

"Lavender's never right," Hermione scoffed. "Just... look, I know it looks bad, but I promise you, I know Harry. And that," she thrust her arm back down the hallway, "isn't Harry."

Ginny paused, then let out a sigh, seeming to deflate like a popped balloon.

"Ok, one more chance."

Harry came through the common door. Alone. Hermione and Ginny shared a look.

"Oh, hi Harry, fancy seeing you." Hermione waved. He waved back and came over toward them. That was a good start.

"Harry, I want to apologize." Hermione began. "Do you think we could talk someplace a little more private?" Harry shrugged. "I was thinking of just dropping off my stuff then going for a walk on the quidditch pitch, do you want to come?"

"That sounds lovely. Oh, but I think Ginny has something to ask you too?" Hermione asked completely naturally. Ginny gave her a look.

"I need to um, find Demelza. Do you mind if I borrow your map? I know it's silly but-"

"Yeah, that's fine." Harry said with a shrug. "It's in my room if you want it, in the usual place. Help yourself."

"Are you sure?" Ginny asked. "Is there anywhere else I should look if it's not there?"

"Well, maybe the bottom of the trunk I guess if it slipped, but can't imagine why it would. In fact, do you mind taking my bag up if you're going? Hermione, you ready then?"

The girls exchanged a look and then nodded, going off on their respective missions.

"Harry, I want to apologize. What Lavender said earlier got me thinking." Hermione fired her opening charm offensive as they entered onto the quidditch pitch.

"Heh, from something Lavender said? That's a first."

She snorted, then stopped, reminding herself that she needed to try and be nicer to Lavender so that everyone could see she was completely wrong about how Hermione felt about Lavender and Ron.

"It's just... I know we've had a few arguments this year but maybe I haven't been a very good friend. You know I'm your friend, right?"

Harry gave her a grin. "My best friend. Yeh."

Hermione nodded. "And so like, if you were interested in a girl or anything, I wouldn't be angry or anything about it, because friends support each other and that's a perfectly natural thing to do at our age. Like..." a dry patch stuck in her throat. "Like Ron does."

Harry gave her a small hug. "I appreciate that, but nothing going on like that right now in my life, I'm afraid. Even if everyone seems to think Vane and I are together now out of nowhere."

"Right, well, that's a good hypothetical example. If you did want to date Romilda and not because she made you or anything, then even if I thought you could do better, or not, I wouldn't get upset or stop being your friend over it."

"Thanks, Hermione. And same to you, is there any boy you've got your eye on?" He gave her a sly look. "No midnight owls from a certain Bulgarian, are there?"

Hermione tsked and slapped him softly on the arm. "Thank you, Harry, and no, but no that's not what – you wouldn't have to hide it or anything, you know that, right? Like... if you wanted to kiss, again just for example, Romilda, you could do that. You could do that in our common room or even right in front of me if you wanted to."

Harry paused. "Hermione... this isn't some ugh, confession, is it? Seamus told me that some blokes like to watch and well, I mean..."

"No! Harry!"

"Sorry! But... ok. Nevermind."

Hermione nodded emphatically at that. "I'm just saying. If you wanted to cuddle Romilda or kiss Romilda or hold her hand or even take her to Hogsmeade, I wouldn't get angry about it because you can do that with any girl you want. Well as long as she agrees to it I suppose. Not that she wouldn't or anything but you know-"

"Hermione!"

"Sorry."

"It's fine. It's just... is there something you're not telling me?"

Hermione froze. "Like what?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. It just seems like... sometimes, that you really don't like Romilda. And then at other times, it's like you're almost throwing her at me. Do you want me to date her?"

No. No it wasn't like that.

Silence as they took a moment to look across the quidditch field, or Hermione trying to look like she was looking across the quidditch field while she scrambled for something to say. Though it was long dark now, the pitch was still well lit, allowing students to take advantage of the evening when the weather was good, which wasn't often enough.

"I just want you to know that I'm your friend. And that if as a friend you had something important to share about Vane or, or anyone else, that you would tell me about it because that's what friends do."

Harry nodded, still looking out over the pitch. "Sure thing."

Oh to hell with it, she was going to burst if she didn't just go for broke.

"Even if you were sneaking around and kissing Romilda in the Room of Requirement instead of working on potions like you said you were going to do, that would be okay too."

Harry froze. He pulled his arm away from her. He looked at her, but his expression was confused.

"Room of Requirement?"

Hermione admitted to what she'd been doing that afternoon. Harry did not appear to be taking it particularly well.

"That's kinda fucked up, to be honest. If I had been kissing Romilda in the Room of Requirement, I'd be really pissed at you right now. As is, I'm just a bit annoyed."

"So you admit you want to kiss her!" Hermione interjected.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Romilda is a pretty witch, and she's pretty cool once you get to know her a bit. But," he interrupted her before she could interrupt him, "that's got nothing to do with anything. Lots of witches in this school are pretty and you don't see me snogging them, do you?"

Well... only because she hadn't gone looking apparently, and wasn't that a nightmare to think about.

"Hermione," Harry said at last, voice softening. "You went to the room that gives you whatever you want, and you asked it to show you proof that you were right all along. Don't you think maybe, it just showed you what you wanted to see?"

"That's ridiculous!"

"Is it?" He sounded a little sad. She was about to respond but... maybe, a little bit, she did want to 'catch him in the act', if only to justify to herself that she was right about the big fight earlier. Maybe it really was the room playing tricks on her.

"But why didn't it open then?" Hermione grasped.

Harry shrugged. "No idea, but that sounds to me like the most likely explanation."

Hermione gave a teeny, tiny nod.

"Sorry," she said quietly.

"Thanks, but it's not me you really need to apologize too." Oh no, oh no no no he wasn't. "I think you and Ginny both need to apologize to Romilda – this has gone on far enough, and Professor Slughorn was really impressed and asked if I'd consider tutoring more regularly. Even offered to put in a word for me with the Auror Recruitment Office, which well you know, that's Slughorn for you," he shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable. "But I'm going to take him up on it, this once."

That was all very good and Hermione was very happy for him. But why oh why did she have to apologize to Romilda. And oh god, he wanted Ginny to apologize, too. Dean was going to go spare and Ginny was going to land on her like a ton of bricks.

They headed back up to the castle, her stomach bubbling like an angry cauldron. "Harry, just one last teeny tiny thing..."

Thank you for reading. I think this gag has more or less run its course, so one chapter left to tie together the loose ends such as they are and give Hermione fits one last time. Gaslighting Hermione for a few weeks is fair enough given the atrocious attitude Hermione had in Book 6, but any longer and I think the credibility is stretched to a point further than it can reasonably be expected to bear.