Ch. 12 – The Abyss
It had been a gloomy trip to Hogsmeade. Now walking in between Harry and Ron, Hermione adjusted her scarf to cover her mouth against the bitter cold. They made their way back to the castle in silence, following the trail of footprints left in the snow by Katie Bell and her friend a good distance ahead of them. Hermione could see that her two friends still had the dreary visit to the village on their minds but her own thoughts took her back to the past few weeks.
Although she had been puzzled as to why the battered copy of Advanced Potion-Making now in Harry's possession had set off such alarms in her head that first Potions lesson, the reasons had become quite evident in the weeks that had followed. Not only had Harry gained an undeserved reputation as a Potions prodigy from following the alternate instructions scribbled over the text, the book had also proved to be a terrible influence on him in other ways. There were apparently all sorts of unknown, potentially dangerous jinxes, hexes, and spells written in the margins of the textbook, and Harry had taken to thoughtless experimentation, which annoyed Hermione considerably. Just that morning, Ron had enthusiastically recounted how he had been rudely awakened by being hung up midair by his ankle. He and Harry had treated the issue as a laughing matter. They were unbelievable sometimes, not thinking about the potential consequences of trying out an unknown, handwritten incantation. Also mentioned in the book was a particularly irksome spell (Muffliato) that would drown out all sounds with a loud buzzing for anybody nearby; Hermione hated this one most of all because she could actually foresee it being useful in certain situations. But her resentment towards the previous owner of the textbook (who they later found had referred to himself or herself as the "Half-Blood Prince") meant that she would rather jump off the Astronomy Tower than admit it out loud.
One part of Hermione told her that perhaps she should stop being stubborn and take a gander at the book herself; perhaps there was a plethora of useful information in those margins after all. And no matter how much she did not want to admit it, she could not deny that Harry's potions attempts were turning out better than hers. It bothered her immensely. She found herself growing easily irritated when she chanced a glance at his cauldron during lessons and a part of her she was not proud of began to seethe whenever Slughorn eagerly came by their station to praise Harry for his brilliance. After going unchallenged for so long, no longer being at the top was…unpleasant. Not because she particularly needed to be at the top or anything petty like that (she would never let herself or her actions be described as 'petty'), but the manner in which she had been displaced was particularly offensive. She had worked hard for her accomplishments. But this so-called "Prince" (what a stupid name, by the way) had appeared from nowhere and effortlessly surpassed her. She could feel the book taunting her, telling her that no matter how hard she worked, it would not be enough. The Prince had already helped Harry so much; he never asked Hermione for help on his Potions homework anymore. She was being replaced. She could not take it.
She hated the Prince.
Harry had, of course, taken notice of her attitude and offered to share the book with her but as she had staunchly refused at the time, she could hardly go back to him and ask to take a look now. That would be admitting defeat. She did not like being wrong or going back on what she had said. In fact, she did not even speak if she was not sure of something most of the time. So, no. She would not take a look at the book herself. She would rather go on a date with Cormac McLaggen or tell him that she Confunded him during Quidditch tryouts than do that. She dreamily imagined Harry coming to his senses and returning the book or burning the accursed thing herself. Yes, she thought to herself. How wonderful would that be? Her resolve strengthened. She would beat the Prince on her own and she was not going to act according to what some idiot had written in a book fifty, twenty, eighteen or however many years ago.
Hermione looked down at her left hand. Next to it, Harry was unsuspectingly swinging his right glove-covered hand as they walked. She remembered her embarrassment that night of Snape's detention—how she had thought even for a moment Harry could feel the same way. It had actually been lucky that Ginny had showed up when she did, preventing Hermione from making a fool of herself and ruining the most important friendship of her life. But still, though she was quiet, though her mouth was covered and shut, her heart refused to be silenced as she stared at his hand with longing.
But what was she going to do? Tell him? Out of the question. Since that night, her eyes had been opened. And it was so obvious that she did not understand how she had not noticed before. Just that day before they had left the castle to enter the village, Ginny had delivered a letter from Dumbledore to Harry informing him about their next lesson. And Harry had asked her, "Want to join us in Hogsmeade, Ginny?" which Hermione heard as "Want to join me in Hogsmeade?"
The thought that Harry would rather be with Ginny at that moment had plagued her all through the trip, contributing to the glum mood that the weather and current state of affairs had already instigated. Hermione was still regularly torturing herself with visions of them together, the situation aggravated by the fact that she cared deeply for both of them and should have been happy if they really did get together. But she could not help it. An ugly side of her wanted to lash out and cry. She wanted Harry to take her into his arms and whisper in her ear that it wasn't Ginny that he fancied, but her—Hermione Granger. It would never happen. It could never happen, she tried to convince herself. Going down that path would only ensure that she would lose him. They were better as friends. And besides, despite being with Dean, Ginny still harbored some feelings for Harry. Hermione was sure of it; she would not have gotten over them so easily. If Harry said something to Ginny first, she was sure Ginny would reciprocate. And an unkind voice in the back of her head, different from the one that had been there since the summer, was telling her that this was how it would be and that she could do nothing to stop it.
"It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!" Hermione heard Katie yell in the distance.
And there it was again. The familiar pain in her head was letting her know that something terrible was going to happen. With each hand, she grabbed Harry and Ron's arms and looked to them in turn. "Get help," she said. Looks of confusion flickered across their faces before Hermione let go of their arms and began running towards Katie.
Hermione did not know exactly what was going to happen, only that something terrible would. She had just reached the other two girls when she saw Leanne attempt to rip a package out of Katie's hands.
"NO!" Hermione screamed. She extended her arm, attempting to push the two girls away from each other but Katie had already grabbed at the brown paper-package, causing it to fall to the ground.
Hermione heard Harry and Ron running up behind her. She quickly turned around and yelled. "GET HELP!" But the two boys remained frozen to the spot as Katie began to rise into the air. Hermione lunged, grabbing hold of Katie's heels, and to her horror, she soon saw her own feet leaving the ground as she was pulled into the air as well. Someone grabbed her waist—Harry—or Ron—she could not tell—and then Katie began to scream. Hermione's ears were ringing—beginning to hurt. Katie's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she continued to scream as if she was being tortured, the sound drowning out the panicked yelling and crying. Hermione's feet touched the ground and the arms that had been around her waist let go. Katie began to fall to the ground and Harry and Ron rushed forward to catch her.
Though she was no longer in the air, Katie's screams did not stop. She was soon thrashing on the ground, arms flailing wildly. Leanne was sobbing, trying to grab at Katie's arms. Hermione tried to hold Katie's legs down but one broke free and kicked her squarely in the stomach. She saw something fly to the ground before leaning over in pain.
"Stay here! I'm going for help!" Hermione heard Harry yell. She lifted her head. He did not have his glasses on and he was bleeding from his lip. She saw him run over to the ground and pick something up before he left them. Hermione, Ron, and Leanne continued to try and restrain Katie who was shaking and flailing so much that all three of them took what seemed an unceasing barrage of hits from her fists and feet.
It seemed to take a very long while, but Harry eventually returned to the scene with Hagrid, who immediately roared to get back and picked Katie up into his arms. He ran towards the castle as the screams faded from Hermione's ears.
Minutes later, the four of them found themselves in Professor McGonagall's office having explained the situation to her. After Leanne had left for the hospital wing, Hermione saw Harry hesitate before letting loose the words that that she could tell had been on his mind throughout their description of events.
"I think Draco Malfoy gave Katie that necklace, Professor."
There was shocked silence before Professor McGonagall pressed Harry for the reasons he thought so. He relayed what they had overheard after they had followed Malfoy to Borgin and Burkes before the term started—about how Malfoy had talked about mending something. And the pain in Hermione's head fired up once again at these words, much harsher than it had in recent memory. Her first instinct had been to argue against the notion that Malfoy had anything to do with what had happened to Katie, especially after Professor McGonagall revealed that he had not even been in Hogsmeade that day as he was serving detention with her. But Harry's words were ringing in Hermione's head and she could not shake the feeling that he was on to something. But she had no proof. She knew what Professor McGonagall would say: that without proof, she could not do anything. So Hermione did nothing but nervously bite her lower lip, trying to keep her face from showing the pain she was feeling.
Soon after the three of them left the office, they began to discuss what had happened. Hermione could tell Harry was annoyed at her and Ron for not agreeing with him in front of Professor McGonagall. But Harry's face soon bore the signs of suspicion as he suddenly turned to her.
"You knew it was going to happen, right? That's why you told us to go find help."
Hermione only stared back in fear. After the first Potions lesson, the matter of how she had somehow known the Prince's book would propel Harry to the top of the class had not been brought up again. Mostly because Hermione could sense whenever Harry was about to mention it and tried as hard as she could to steer the conversation in another direction. But now, another incident later, Hermione knew for sure that she was cursed. Yes, she had known something terrible was going to happen. But it had made no difference. She had not been able to prevent it from happening. As Harry's eyes searched her face, Hermione felt as if her mind would crumble. How long could she hide what was happening to her? And why was she so insistent on keeping things to herself and suffering in silence? She turned her head from Harry's stern gaze to Ron's bewildered look and back to Harry. Should she let them know? Maybe they'll believe you, she thought to herself. Maybe they'll even be able to help you.
But what if they think I'm going mad? she argued with herself.
They won't.
If somebody told me they were hearing voices like this, would I believe them?
Definitely not. But that's you, not them.
So I should just keep it to myself until I know for sure what's going on?
They'll believe you.
I have no proof of that! I have no proof of anything!
Believe in them. They're your friends.
"Hermione?" Harry said. His expression softened. "Is everything okay?"
"What's going on?" Ron said.
Hermione took a deep breath. It'll be okay. It'll be okay, she thought.
"I didn't know that thing with the necklace would happen," she managed to say. "But I knew something would."
"What do you mean?"
Hermione hesitated.
"What?" Harry urged. "Come on, we're your friends."
Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends.
"I…have a headache," Hermione said, wincing at the path she had chosen.
"That…doesn't explain anything."
"I just had a bad feeling from the way Katie's voice sounded."
Harry and Ron both narrowed their eyes at her before Harry spoke up again. "But what about the—"
"Sorry, my head just really hurts right now. I think I'll go lie down," Hermione said. She quickly turned around to hide her face from them. What was wrong with her? Why was she so afraid?
I hate you! the voice in her head hissed.
News of what had happened to Katie Bell spread fast over the next few days. She had been transferred to St. Mungo's and discussion was rife among the student body with several theories being floated around as to who had given her the necklace.
Having already discussed the issue at length and unwilling to revisit the topic in case it led to unwelcome revelations, Hermione did not engage in further conversation concerning the incident. Unbelievably, she had another daunting matter to deal with now. She was returning from Slughorn's latest invitational meal where he had mentioned he would be hosting a special Christmas party. Despite the professor's many previous attempts, Harry had been successful thus far in evading the parties, armed with a different plausible excuse every time. But just now, Slughorn had specifically asked Hermione to check Harry's schedule for his free evenings. And what was she going to do? Lie to a professor? Besides, Harry could endure one party, right?
Hermione entered the Gryffindor common room and found Harry and Ron in the corner, lazily lounging in the armchairs.
"Don't you two have work you should be doing?" she remarked as she slid into an empty chair.
The two boys exchanged exasperated looks.
"We were…waiting for you?" Harry offered.
"Can't do anything without you," Ron added.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "How was practice?" Scheduling Quidditch practice was how Harry had managed to wrangle out of today's party.
"Not bad," Harry remarked. Ron did not add anything.
"How was Slughorn's?"
"…Not bad," Hermione said. She carefully watched Harry's face. "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party," she said in what she hoped came across as a very casual tone.
"Yeah?"
"And you're not getting out of this one because he specifically asked me to check your schedule to see when you were free."
Harry's face fell. "Great," he said darkly.
"Yeah…great," Ron muttered. "And this is another party just for Slughorn's favorites, is it?" he added bitterly.
Hermione and Harry exchanged nervous looks. They had, of course, noticed Ron's sudden change in mood whenever Slughorn or his parties were mentioned. Hermione remembered the last time Slughorn had approached where the three of them had been sitting in the Great Hall, speaking enthusiastically to both her and Harry, but ignoring Ron completely.
But she had something to take care of right now. "We're…allowed to bring guests," Hermione mumbled. "So Harry, you should…bring a date."
Harry groaned. Undeterred, Hermione pressed further. "Is there…anybody you're thinking of?"
"…No," Harry said quietly. But he averted his eyes from her and stared at the opposite end of the common room.
Ask him, she thought to herself. Ask him. Ask him. Ask him. Ask him. Ask him. Say it's just as friends. Just friends. Just friends. Just friends.
Hermione felt as if her heart would stop. She was constantly thinking about him. She was even scared of letting anyone know how much of her thoughts she was letting him occupy—how many nights she had cried pathetically pining after him. She had so much going on already—much more demanding lessons, persistent practicing of nonverbal spells, the constant headaches that she still did not know the cause of. She had to take care of at least one problem before she lost her mind.
She turned to Ron. Maybe she had already lost her mind. As if sensing what she was about to do, the voice in her head spoke with a hint of panic. What are you doing?
"Are you going to come with me or what?" The words left her mouth and now there was no going back.
STOP. STOP. STOP! The voice howled with rage. Her head was being split apart and her heart was filling with guilt, threatening to swallow her up.
Harry and Ron were now both staring at her in shock. Hermione's face was burning up but she determinedly stared back at Ron.
"With you?" Ron finally said.
"You don't have to act so surprised," she snapped. "Just…as friends, I mean. Besides, what were you going to do? Go with Harry?"
All traces of Ron's bad mood from minutes before had completely disappeared. "…Okay, I'll go."
Harry's eyes were darting between her and Ron, as if trying to process what had just happened. Hermione's heart was shattering. She had done it. At least this way, it would ensure that Harry would remain in her life.
You stupid girl, the voice snarled. You stupid girl!
She ignored the voice and tried her best to mask the pain in her head and heart. She nodded at Ron in what she hoped came across as a very casual manner. "Okay. Well…that's that, then."
The first Quidditch match of the season—Gryffindor vs. Slytherin—was fast approaching. As Katie Bell showed no signs of being discharged from St. Mungo's any time soon, Harry had tapped Dean Thomas as the replacement Chaser. Hermione had been in the common room at the time Dean had burst through to excitedly tell Ginny the news. She had watched as he left, dragging Ginny by the hand with him. Ginny seemed to have no idea that Harry had begun to think of her in…a different manner and a horrible, selfish part of Hermione hoped that she would never find out. But she had no right to complain now.
The Gryffindor Quidditch team (which coincidentally included everyone Hermione was prone to hang around with) was currently at practice so Hermione was by herself in the library, poring over her copy of Advanced Potion-Making. She scowled at the clean, unmarked pages and buried her face in her hands. Curse everything. Though there were still weeks until the Christmas party, she was nervous. She had clarified to Ron that they would be going 'as friends' and it had made her feel guilty. She had noticed his recent glances directed towards her which she had vague suspicions about. There was a faint hope that it was just her imagination because she did not want to hurt him by telling him she did not feel the same.
Then why did you ask him to come with you to the party?
I said as friends, though, she argued with herself.
But you still asked him. You're leading him on!
I SAID AS FRIENDS.
He doesn't believe that. He's still going to think he has a chance.
Maybe he doesn't actually feel that way about me.
Oh, please.
Hermione wanted to believe that she was mistaken—that Ron's looks meant nothing. But there was a reason why she felt the guilt so strongly—because his looks were familiar. It was the same kind of looks she gave Harry. The same kind of looks Harry gave Ginny. The same kind of looks that she had noticed Lavender Brown giving Ron recently.
What a mess. A trail of broken hearts.
When she returned to the Gryffindor common room that evening, she did not see Harry or Ron. They must have headed off to bed early. Worrying that Quidditch practice had not gone well, she headed for bed as well, hoping the morning would prove to be the bearer of good, or at the very least, not bad, news.
Morning came and she waited in an empty chair for Harry and Ron so that they could go down to breakfast together. Minutes later she spotted Harry descending the stairs from the boys' dormitory. Ron was not with him.
"Ron still sleeping?" she asked.
"Er…yeah. We should go on without him."
Hermione closely watched Harry's face and got the feeling there was something he was not telling her. "What happened?" she asked as she crossed her arms.
"Nothing," Harry said a little too quickly.
She raised an eyebrow. "Practice?" Neither of them were strangers to Ron's bad moods after a subpar practice session.
"Something like that," Harry mumbled. "Let's just go to breakfast."
Hermione did not see Ron until midday. She and Harry were in idle conversation when a high-pitched squeal caused her to turn her head towards the entrance of the Great Hall.
"Why would you be standing there anyway?" Ron snapped at a girl whom the sound had evidently come from. The girl looked rather shocked as she hurriedly walked away to find a spot at the table.
Hermione frowned. She recognized the girl as one of the new Gryffindor first-years. Honestly, would it be too much for him to act civilly to younger students?
Ron lumbered over to where she and Harry were and sat down with an intense scowl on his face.
"You didn't have to shout at her," Hermione said.
Ron turned to her and Hermione was a bit shaken to see the anger and intensity behind his glare. "Mind your own business," he spat.
Hermione's eyes narrowed in annoyance. So he wanted to fight, did he? "That is my business," she fired back. "You're a prefect and it's a bad reflection on me if you're acting out like that for no reason."
"What are you, my mother?"
"Ron," Harry spoke up. "Relax."
"No, Harry," Hermione said icily. "I think he has something he wants to say." She was now glaring as well. "What's the problem now?"
"I'm just saying, you can be a bit overbearing at times."
"Overbearing? Overbearing? Where do you get off?"
"Sorry," Ron said sarcastically. "You didn't get the memo?"
"Have you lost your mind?" Hermione demanded. Their raised voices had now drawn the attention of several other people who were watching with interest.
"Yeah, you would know if I had, wouldn't you?" Ron sneered. "Always know everything."
"Let's stop…" Harry said.
Hermione ignored him. "Yeah? Knowing things is bad now? Funny how it's never an issue whenever you're asking me for help on homework."
"Yeah, we get it," Ron snarled. "You're the best in our year and I'm just some bumbling idiot, okay?"
"That's not what I said!" Hermione hissed.
"You might as well have! Fine, I don't know anything, okay? I'm just stupid Ron Weasley who never knows anything!"
"Will you shut up already?" Hermione said, her voice rising even higher. "Why are you putting words in my mouth?"
"What, you think I don't know enough about you to know what you're thinking?"
"Apparently not! Why are you acting like such a child?"
"Oh, here we go. Now I'm not old enough for you?"
"How about you try acting your age then and stop picking on younger students just because you're in a bad mood from Quidditch practice?"
An ugly look flashed across Ron's face. "Watch your damn mouth."
"Ron!" Harry said.
Hermione was now too angry to say anything back. Everything had been fine just minutes ago. Why on earth was he acting like this? What had she done?
Ron stood up, glaring at the crowd that had gathered. "What's so interesting, huh?" he barked. And he stomped away, not looking back at Harry or Hermione.
The rest of the day did not see an improvement in Ron's mood. The few times that Hermione was around him, he seemed just as irritable and ready to lash out as ever so that by the time night came, she was more than ready to stomp off to her own bed.
Ron's unpleasant behavior continued for the next few days. Hermione could tell Harry was exhausted from his attempts to keep the peace between her and Ron but she stubbornly told herself she was only arguing back when Ron started it. What was she supposed to do? Just let him be horrible to her?
On the day of the match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, Hermione stayed in bed for longer than usual. Knowing that Ron would already be down at the Great Hall with the rest of the team for breakfast, she waited what seemed the appropriate amount of time necessary before heading down herself.
Her eyes quickly found Harry. He was, as expected, sitting with Ron, who had his back turned toward her. She approached them, and knowing the pressure Ron was sure to be feeling, she resolved to not argue with him for the time being. She took a deep breath. "How are you both feeling?"
"Fine," Harry said. Ron did not answer. Harry handed Ron a glass of pumpkin juice and Hermione noticed a small bottle in his hand as he waved it over the glass. "There you go, Ron. Drink up."
Hermione was stunned. Did he just do what she thought he did? But her head began to hurt and the voice was back. Fake.
What did that even mean? She pressed her hand to her forehead in annoyance as her gaze turned downward. When she looked back up, she saw Harry looking at her expectantly as if he was waiting for some type of reaction.
Ron lifted the glass of pumpkin juice to his lips and emptied the contents.
"Here," Harry said hurriedly, pouring him another glass. "Have another one."
"I think I'm all right," Ron said moodily.
"Well, good luck," Hermione suddenly said. Noting the now-disgruntled look on Harry's face, she walked away. Something had gone wrong, but she did not know what.
The match went horribly for Ron. His bad attitude from the days before seemed to poison his quality of play. Hermione soon came to expect the groans that arose from the Gryffindor supporters every time the Slytherin Chasers sped off towards the goalposts.
"Almost immediately after that last goal, here comes Urquhart! And Weasley predictably lets in another one!" came the blaring, gleeful voice of Zacharias Smith from the announcer's podium. "Slytherin leads 90 to 30," he said amidst the loud cheers from the Slytherin side of the field.
Hermione looked towards the sky, searching for Harry. His flying seemed erratic, eager to end the game as quickly as he could.
The Gryffindor supporters endured a few more minutes of agony before something changed and Harper, the Slytherin Seeker who had replaced Malfoy, sped off towards the ground.
"Harper dives! Looks like he's seen the Snitch! Pity for Potter who looks rather lost!"
But Harry had already begun to accelerate as he dove towards the ground as well and Hermione watched fearfully as he drew closer and closer to Harper. She felt a sense of dread come over her as Harper extended his arm. But just as Harper's hand was about to wrap around the golden ball, something seemed to cause him to fumble and a second later, Harry passed him, pulling up his broom a few feet from the ground and triumphantly holding up the Snitch in his hand.
The roars of the Gryffindor supporters soon filled the air as the team converged around Harry in celebration. But Hermione spotted Ron dejectedly fly towards the ground by himself. Once he had landed, he kicked his broom and headed in the direction of the changing room with hunched shoulders. Harry was soon trying his best to escape the rest of the team excitedly crowding over him. He reached the ground as well and picked up Ron's broom, running after him. Hermione stood up and forced her way past the other students in the stands as she made her way down to the field.
When she entered the changing room, Harry had Ron pinned against the wall, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.
"You're not resigning!" Harry was yelling.
Their heads turned to Hermione who now wishing she had not come in at all.
"What?" Ron spat. "Come to gloat?"
"N-no," Hermione stuttered. But she found she did not have more to say. Why had she come? Had she thought that her presence would make a difference in how he would feel?
Ron shook Harry's arm off him. "I'm out of here," he said darkly and stormed off, not looking back at either of them.
The sound of Harry's heavy breathing entered Hermione's ears. She turned and saw him angrily run his hands through his hair.
"…Harry?" she said timidly.
"Not now, Hermione," he said gruffly. And he left the room as well, leaving her alone.
She stood still for a few minutes, trying to understand what had gone wrong. And as the thought of brooms and rats and scoring goals filled her head, she grew angrier and angrier. Quidditch!
She hated Quidditch.
Hermione climbed through the portrait hole, returning to the Gryffindor common room with her bag hung over her aching shoulder. It seemed like it had been forever since the match. She had not spoken to either Harry or Ron since and she found that she was once again, as it seemed to be the case whenever her friendships were under strain, throwing herself into her work so that she did not give her mind the opportunity to dwell on what was making her feel so awful and lonely inside.
She strode past the giant hourglass in the center of the room, past the group of lounging students sharing a tall bottle of firewhiskey, and made her way to a familiar corner of the room where she figured she was least likely to be disturbed. She sat down at a small table and set her bulging bag down, preparing for another long night of solitude.
"Didn't you just come back from the library?" a voice said from behind her.
Hermione turned back with surprise to find a blonde girl staring curiously at her bag of books.
"Hi, Luna."
"Hi, Hermione!" Luna beamed. "What are you working on?"
"Oh, you know…just stuff."
Luna nodded understandingly. "Stuff is very interesting. I'm quite interested in stuff as well."
Hermione resisted letting out the first thoughts that came into her head. This was, after all, the first person she was having any sort of conversation with in what seemed like days. It was a welcome change of pace.
"Harry's over there," Luna said, pointing to the opposite corner of the room.
"I…didn't say anything about Harry," Hermione said
"You didn't have to," Luna said. "Did you two have a fight?"
Hermione hesitated. "Not a fight… But, I think he might be a little annoyed with me at the moment."
"Why?" Luna asked, tilting her head.
Hermione searched her memories. "I…don't know," she said in realization.
"Have you tried asking?"
"No, I can figure it out." Hermione looked to the other end of the room where she saw Harry. His form was hunched as he seemed to be furiously scribbling over some parchment.
"What's he up to?" she asked.
Luna shrugged. "He's been like that for about an hour."
Hermione's eyebrow raised. "An hour?"
"Oh yes," Luna said earnestly. "I love watching Harry."
The admission caused Hermione to begrudgingly smile. Letting her curiosity get the best of her, she stood up from her chair and picked up her bag. "I'm going to see what he's up to," she told Luna.
"Okay," Luna said as she drifted away.
Hermione made her way to the other side, her bag of books growing heavier with each step. As she drew closer, she saw Harry was poring over a book in front of him, only intermittently breaking his gaze to scribble some notes.
"Hi…" Hermione said nervously.
Harry looked up. "Hey."
"Are you talking to me again?"
"What?" Harry asked in apparent confusion.
Hermione frowned. "You know…because we haven't talked in a while. Because I—" What had she done, exactly? Why had they stopped talking?
"What are you talking about? We talked just a few hours ago," Harry said.
No, we didn't, she thought. …Did we?
"We did?"
A look of concern passed over Harry's face. "Are you okay?"
"What did we talk about?" Hermione asked.
"I told you that Ron wanted to quit the Quidditch team."
The match. Now, she remembered. Even though they had won, Harry had seemed really angry after. She did not like to see Harry angry.
"And?" Hermione asked. Why did she not remember this conversation they supposedly had?
"No way I'm going to let him," Harry said fiercely. "He can be great. You know it too."
Hermione nodded. But she did not want talk about Ron right now. She had had enough of his bad moods for the moment. She instead looked with interest at the parchment Harry had seemed so preoccupied with.
"What is that?"
"Working on that Potions essay for Slughorn."
Potions? Hermione's eyes darted to the book in front of Harry, recognizing the text from Advanced Potion-Making. But there was something off.
"Where's your book?" she asked.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "This is my book."
"No, it's not. You've been using that stupid marked-up copy this whole time."
"Oh, that?" Harry shrugged. "I tossed it."
"Tossed it?"
"Yep. You were right. It was too dangerous and I wanted to start doing things properly. Follow the official instructions."
She was elated. She was right. She was right! The book was gone!
"Do you want to see mine?" She was already eagerly opening her bag to pull out her own completed essay. She reached past the seven books that took up most of the space inside and found the scroll of parchment at the bottom lying atop a layer of sand. She frowned. She would have to remember to clean out the bag later.
She proudly unrolled the parchment. It was blank. She stared in puzzlement. But she was sure she had already finished the essay… She looked back down again at her bag. Perhaps she had grabbed the wrong scroll. And then the covers of the books in her bag caught her eye. On every one of them, blazoned in seven different bright colors was the name, Harry Potter.
What was this? Hermione looked from the books to Harry.
He shook his head, not having noticed anything and resuming their conversation as if no time had passed at all. "I think I'm going to try it on my own at first. We can compare after I finish though, before I make some revisions." His hand rose and he fingered the small, gold hoop hanging from his left ear, something he had always done whenever he was in deep thought.
Hermione beamed as she tossed the parchment back in the bag without any further thought. "Harry! I'm so proud of you! You seem to be making a real effort towards your schoolwork now!"
He grinned and she felt her heartbeat rising. He was irresistible. "I can't always rely on you," he said.
"Of course you can. I'll always be there for you," Hermione said, feeling the happiest she had been in quite a while. She had him all to herself now. All to herself.
Harry suddenly grabbed her hand and Hermione felt her face heat up. He had no idea what he was doing to her right now. "My bad. You're right," he said as he looked into her eyes. "You'll always be there for me. It's what helped me realize, I don't need that book... I need you."
The sound of excited squealing caused Hermione to search for the source and she found that a crowd of girls, with Lavender and Parvati at the front, had gathered and were watching Harry and her with wide eyes.
"Harry…" she murmured. It was like something out of those princess movies she had watched as a child. "What are you saying?"
Harry stood up from his seat, still clutching her hand. "I realized something else too. And I have to tell you. Before I explode."
"What is it?" Hermione asked breathlessly.
Harry drew closer. "Can I touch you?"
Hermione nodded. Her heart seemed to be beating impossibly fast. She felt as if she would collapse any moment now.
His hand extended and he gently stroked her cheek. Her eyes flitted up to his lips, waiting for them to open and release the words she was waiting for. But they remained closed and instead drew closer and closer to her own. Scarcely daring to believe what was happening, she closed her eyes, waiting to feel the brush of his lips against hers.
But she did not feel anything on her lips. Rather, the next thing she felt was his breath on her ears as he whispered, "This is what I realized."
"What?" she said, barely moving her lips.
He said it quietly. The words were only for her. "I'm in love with you, Hermione."
She opened her eyes. He had said it. He had really said it. But—no. No. No! Harry would not say that. He would never say that! She squeezed his hand. It was warm and felt just like when she had held it all those other times. But when she looked down, his hand was leaking green mucus and she felt the slimy matter gluing their palms together. She attempted to jerk her hand away. It did not separate from Harry's. Her eyes fearfully met his. They were purple. Her heart was pounding, but for a completely different reason than just a moment ago. This was wrong. This was wrong! She turned her head back to the corner where she had come from. There was Luna, beaming and waving. What was she doing here? She should not be here. She could not be here. Hermione looked to the center of the Gryffindor common room and saw the giant hourglass she had passed by previously. What was that? How long had that been there? That was not supposed to be here. And her heart was sinking and she realized none of this was real. It was a dream. This had to be a dream. She stared back down at her hand, melded to Harry's by the sticky green semifluid.
"Hermione?" Harry said. Her head slowly turned to his face. He was on the verge of tears. "How do you feel about me, Hermione?"
"I–I—" she stuttered. She frantically looked around, now searching for anything normal. The crowd that had been watching them had grown larger. Countless pairs of blank eyes stared back at her.
She moved her free hand to her other arm and pinched it. Wasn't that what they said to do when you wanted to see if you were dreaming? There was no pain. In fact, she did not feel anything. She pinched herself again. And again. She felt nothing. She was dreaming. That was for sure. Everything had been off. She should have noticed earlier. She should have noticed everything earlier. She was stupid. So stupid.
"Give him an answer," a new voice said.
Hermione turned her head with a start and saw Ginny crossing her arms and looking very impatient.
"Can you give him an answer? If you don't love him, I will."
"No—it's not like that," Hermione pleaded. "Of course I love him. But…this isn't real, is it?"
Ginny smiled. "Real doesn't matter when you're mad."
"I'm not mad!"
Luna was by her side in an instant. "There's nothing wrong with being mad, Hermione. You'll get used to it."
"Luna, you're not mad," Hermione said.
"Yes, she is!" Ginny insisted.
"Yes, I am!" Luna said proudly. "You know what they call me?"
"Luna, stop!"
"Loony," Luna responded dreamily. "I'm loony, Hermione. Loooony. Loony loony Lovegood."
Hermione pinched herself again. She felt nothing. Why was this not working? She needed to escape this place. Wherever this was. Get out. Get out. Get out. GET OUT. GET OUT. GET OUT. She attempted to wrest her hand away from Harry's grip. The hardened mucus that had been binding them together broke off. She stood up, fear threatening to paralyze her any minute. She ran towards the portrait hole and flung the door open. The familiar castle layout did not greet her. There was only blackness—an abyss.
She turned back around. Harry, Ginny and Luna were now ominously walking towards her.
"Where are you going?" Harry said.
GET OUT. GET OUT. GET OUT. Hermione turned and peered into the abyss.
Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump. Jump.
She could not jump. She did not know what was waiting for her out there.
"Hermione?" It was another voice calling for her. It came from the darkness.
"Who is that?"
"You don't recognize me? I'm hurt."
She squinted and saw red. A candle lit up in the distance and she saw the somber face of Ron Weasley. He spread his arms. "Jump," he said. "I'll catch you."
Hermione looked back at Harry. But he was no longer Harry. His features had now deformed into a slimy amorphous blob, along with the figures that had once been Ginny and Luna. They were all slowly making their way towards her.
Ron was calling her. He had grown taller and taller and he was taking up so much of the space outside. "Hermione? Why aren't you jumping?"
The figure that had once looked like Harry was calling. "Hermione? You don't…feel the same?"
"Hermione?"
"Hermione?"
"Hermione?"
"Hermione?"
The voices all began to overlap and she collapsed to her knees, screaming as loud as she could as her eyes closed, hiding everything from her sight. She opened them. She was still there.
The three blobs had finally reached her. Hermione could feel the air leaving her lungs as she desperately gasped for breath. The light was fading. Help! she screamed in her head. Harry!
Hermione woke up.
She was no longer in the Gryffindor common room, but back in her own bed in the girls' dormitory. She sat up, her pajamas drenched in sweat. A hand grasped hers.
Hermione's gaze traveled up the arm that was connected to the hand clutching hers, fearful of what she would find.
But it was okay.
"Harry!" She burst into tears and moved her arms around him as relief flooded her.
"Nightmare?" Harry whispered.
She only nodded as she held on tight, her heart pounding against the walls of her chest.
"It's okay," Harry said. "I'm here."
Hermione closed her eyes and let herself fall into the warmth of his embrace.
"Just stay here with me for a while, okay?" she said.
"I'm here," Harry said. "I'll never leave you."
"Never," Hermione repeated. "Never leave me."
He stroked her cheek, wiping away her tears. His touch was coarse. She opened her eyes as a thought occurred to her.
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"…How did you get in here?"
There was no response.
Suddenly, she could not breathe and she jerked herself away from him, eyes darting to his face.
His eyes were red. "What are you talking about?"
"No," Hermione moaned. "No. No. NO!"
And then she was being shaken awake. "Hermione?"
She found Parvati and Lavender looking at her in fear.
"Are you…okay?"
Hermione sat up. Girls' dormitory. In her bed. Sweating. She allowed herself to relax.
"I'm…okay," she managed to say.
"Good," Parvati said. "Now we can do this." She grabbed Hermione by the ankles and pinned her to the mattress.
Hermione froze. The shock coursing through her did not even allow her to think about struggling.
A second pair of hands grabbed her wrists. Lavender grinned widely and brought her face closer until their noses touched.
"No one's going to hear you scream. So don't bother."
Hermione started to scream. The pressure on her right wrist faded as Lavender immediately let go and covered Hermione's mouth with her hand, nails digging into her cheek.
"What did I just say?" Lavender said. She giggled and turned to Parvati. "They never listen, do they?"
"Never," Parvati said with a smirk.
With her now free hand, Hermione brought it crashing to Lavender's face.
Lavender did not even flinch and only stared down in contempt. Hermione had felt nothing as well. "That won't wooork!" Lavender sang.
"I told you she would be easy," Parvati giggled. "She only hangs out with boys. Nobody on this side is going to help her."
"I love boys," Lavender said dreamily as she smiled. She glanced down at Hermione and the smile was suddenly gone. "Well, one boy in particular. And you need to stay away from him."
Hermione's words were muffled by Lavender's hand still over her mouth.
"Then why did you ask him to the party?" Lavender demanded.
Tears were now streaking down Hermione's face.
"Too late!" Lavender sang. She climbed up on the bed, her knees pressing down onto Hermione's wrists. She reached for her pillow.
"Bye!" she said cheerfully as Hermione tried once more to scream and shake free. But the pillow covered her mouth, silencing her. Her vision grew dark and seconds later, she could not breathe.
"What's wrong with her?"
Hermione opened her eyes. Where was she? Her eyes wildly bounced around, attempting to collect as much information as she could. Girls' dormitory. Her bed. She sat up and found Parvati and Lavender standing at the foot of her bed.
"Should we get McGonagall?" Parvati said worriedly.
Lavender reached out her hand. "Hermione? Are you okay?"
Hermione screamed and flung away the sheets that was covering her. She stumbled out of her bed and instantly fell to the floor.
"Hermione!"
"She looks really bad."
The two other girls slowly approached her and Hermione began to shake. It would never end. She desperately tried to crawl away but she found that her strength was leaving her.
Lavender put a hand on Hermione's trembling shoulder.
"It's okay," Lavender said gently. "Breathe."
A moan of fear escaped Hermione. But as time passed and nothing else strange seemed to happen, she finally relaxed enough to form coherent thoughts. She brought her right hand to her left arm and pinched.
It hurt.
"Feel better now?" Parvati asked her kindly.
Hermione nodded.
"Do you want to go to the hospital wing?"
Hermione shook her head.
"Do you want us to get you something? Water?"
Hermione shook her head again.
"Are you sure?"
She finally found her voice again. "I'm…okay," she said quietly. But then she remembered the dreams and burst into tears. Through watery eyes, she saw Lavender and Parvati exchange startled looks. But she could not tell them about her dreams. She could not tell anyone. Her mind had done the unforgivable—it had corrupted Harry. She was truly broken. She stayed glued to the floor, the terrifying images that had been in her mind all along refusing to fade. She kept thinking back to the first dream and the tears did not stop flowing. She remembered all the abnormalities that had been presented to her—things that she should have immediately recognized as signs that she had been dreaming. And she wept harder because despite all the unsettling details and impossibilities that had been there all along, what had finally convinced her that she was dreaming was Harry saying that he was in love with her.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
Hermione was pulled from her thoughts as Harry shook her shoulder.
"Huh?" she said. "Yes, I'm fine." It seemed asking if she was okay was the only thing people asked her nowadays. They were back in the Gryffindor common room, about forty-five minutes left before their next lesson. She wanted to change the topic—she did not want to talk about herself.
"Have you seen Ron?" she found herself asking. You couldn't have picked any other topic? she asked herself in frustration.
Harry shrugged. "You think you'll ever make up with him?"
"I didn't do anything!" Hermione protested. "He was the one who started acting like that out of nowhere!"
"...Yeah."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "What happened? I know something did. He was fine before that one practice."
Harry looked baffled as if he did not know where to begin his explanation. He stuttered a few times and exhaled sharply.
"What?" Hermione said.
"Never mind," he muttered. "It's stupid."
"Clearly," Hermione snapped. At least it seemed she wasn't the only one keeping secrets.
Harry looked across the room. Hermione followed his gaze to see Ginny and Dean, laughing about something.
"Can you stop?"
Harry looked back at her with a start. "What?"
Hermione's eyes widened as she realized she had said out loud what she had been thinking.
"What?" she feigned, attempting to recover.
"Stop what?"
Stop looking at her!
"I didn't say anything."
"You very clearly just did."
"No, I didn't."
"What are you doing?"
"What?"
"You're acting weird again."
"No, you are," Hermione said, knowing she sounded stupid.
"Look, this has been going on for long enough. Just tell me what's going on," Harry said impatiently.
"Why don't you tell me what's going on first?"
Harry let out an exasperated sigh.
"Don't sigh at me!"
Harry put his hand over hers. Hermione froze.
"I don't want a row or anything, okay?"
Stop doing this to me, Hermione pleaded.
Just then, Ron came through the portrait hole and sauntered over to where they were sitting.
"Feeling better?" Hermione asked, bracing herself for another fight.
Ron looked down at the top of the table where Harry's hand was still atop hers. He scoffed and turned back around, heading towards the stairs to the boys' dormitory.
Hermione opened her mouth, fully intent on releasing all sorts of obscenities at Ron Weasley.
Harry squeezed her hand. "Don't," he said with a warning tone.
She stared angrily across the room. For some inexplicable reason, it seemed Ginny along with Dean had chosen that moment to begin walking over to where they were.
Hermione could not take it. She let out a half-choked cry of frustration and jerked her hand away from Harry's. She stomped over to the portrait hole and flung it open. She had to get away from here. GET OUT. GET OUT. GET OUT. Her head was hurting again. It would not stop. There was no end. This was her life now. Her stupid, miserable, pathetic life.
She ignored the stares as she made her way to the nearest bathroom. She kicked open the stall door and slammed it shut once she had entered. Once the door was locked, the tears began to flow. She had been in this position before.
She did not know how much time passed but at some point, she heard the shuffling of feet and whispers about her from outside.
"Are you okay?"
She cried harder, letting her sobs echo throughout the bathroom.
Whoever had asked her said nothing more and Hermione heard her walk away.
It was minutes later before she heard a new set of voices. "So I told him—"
"Wait, what's that sound?"
"Ugh." There was a knock on her stall.
"Are you done?" an irritated voice said.
Hermione did not respond, only attempting to stifle the sounds coming out of her.
"I cannot believe how inconsiderate some people are," the irritated voice said. "The world doesn't revolve around you, you know! Go do this in your dorm or something and not a public space!"
There was a giggle. "Stop!" the second voice said.
"What?" the first voice said. "It's true! Just because her life is a mess, she has to bother everyone else about it?"
"You're so mean," the second voice laughed.
There was banging on her stall door. "Hey! Come out!"
Why didn't they leave her alone? There were plenty of other open stalls.
More banging. Hermione gripped her wand.
"Freak," she heard the first voice mutter.
"Let's go to the one on the second floor. I don't want to use this one anymore," the second voice said.
Minutes passed.
There was no sound outside. Her body seemed as if it had run out of tears. Hermione opened the door and walked over to the sink, sniffling and staring at her reddened eyes and tear-stained face. She turned the water on and began to wash her face.
She stared once more at her reflection. Her fist balled up and she wanted to punch the bathroom mirror. Why was she not prettier? Why was she not more athletic? Better at flying? Why was she not funny? Why did she feel the need to be such an annoying know-it-all? Why was she so susceptible to her emotions? And why was she finding herself increasingly alone in these situations where she wanted to break down? Where were her friends? Where was Harry? How many rules had she broken for him? How many times had she attempted something completely insane for him? She had always, always, ALWAYS put herself out there for him. She had felt safe around him, had found herself thinking about him during moments of duress, had found herself unconsciously reaching for him when she was afraid. And where was he now when she was angry and insecure and wanting to throw a tantrum like a spoiled child?
Making moon eyes at Ginny, she thought bitterly. She hated having these thoughts. She hated having these feelings. She hated herself.
She hated Harry.
No. No, she didn't. I take it back, she begged to herself. Not even for a moment could she hate him. And she hated herself more for even thinking it and tears began to again stain the face she had just washed.
But why did he have to be so exhausting sometimes?
She heard approaching footsteps and lifted her head. It seemed impossible but there was a moment of hope where she thought he might have heard her thoughts and was coming for her. She watched the bathroom entrance, holding her breath, aware that whoever walked in would see her at the most vulnerable she had ever felt.
The door opened.
It was Ginny.
No. No. NO! Hermione wanted to grab Ginny by the collar of her shirt and shake her. Why was she here? Why was she the one that was here?
I can't do this. Not now.
Ginny walked over and wordlessly wrapped her arms around her, squeezing her tight.
LET GO! Hermione screamed in her head. But she did not move.
Seconds passed and they separated. "Thanks," she muttered, walking out the bathroom. She turned sharply to make her way back to the common room and ran into some idiot who was leaning on the wall right next to the door. She was still trying to decide if she should berate the person or apologize when she saw who it was.
It was Harry.
They stared quietly at each other and Hermione felt like she would break into pieces as every ugly thought she had had came flooding back. But she did not move.
Harry broke the silence. "I couldn't go in. Girls' bathroom."
Her lips trembled and she did not deny herself, traveling that short distance to him and squeezing him tight, tears staining the front of his robes. His arms remained at his side for a few seconds before he raised one and awkwardly patted her on the back.
"Sorry, I know I'm no good in these situations."
Hermione only cried. He did not have to say anything or try to explain himself. All she needed was for him to stay still.
Still wrapped around him, Hermione took her left hand and pinched her right arm.
It hurt.