This chapter is unfortunately short. Unlike in TKC, she wouldn't know anything about what happened with Myrtle until Harry and Ron told her about it.

Chapter 40: Kitty Granger

Ron and Harry helped me to the hospital wing, my face burning with shame as my cat-like features were hidden under Ron's cloak. Every step felt heavy, not just from the awkward way my transformed body moved, but also from the overwhelming humiliation. Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows when she saw me, clearly curious, but thankfully, she decided not to press for details. Instead, she simply admitted me and began her usual fussing, brewing up potions that smelled as nasty as they tasted.

Ron and Harry sat on either side of my bed, their silence thick and uneasy. I kept my eyes fixed firmly on my blanket-covered paws, not daring to look up. I could feel their stares though, both pitying and awkward, and it made my humiliation deepen.

"How could I have been so stupid?" I sobbed, my voice muffled by the blanket I tried to hide in.

"It was an honest mistake, Hermione," Ron said gently, which surprised me. He rarely sounded this... considerate.

"Yeah," Harry added quickly. "You wouldn't have known it was cat hair."

"It could be worse," Ron offered.

I looked up sharply, my voice rising in disbelief. "How could it be worse?!"

"You could have turned into a fish and ended up swimming around with Myrtle," Harry suggested, a faint grin tugging at his lips.

I glared at him, my tail twitching involuntarily. When it swished and smacked Ron in the face, I almost wanted to hiss.

The days that followed were agonizing. Madam Pomfrey, thankfully, pulled the curtains around my bed so no one else could see my embarrassing state. Still, I hated being there for so long, isolated and stewing in my shame. The only bright spot was Ron and Harry visiting me every evening. They tried to cheer me up, and it worked—mostly. When the new term started, they brought my homework each day, which helped me focus on something other than my fur-covered ordeal.

"If I'd sprouted whiskers, I'd take a break from work," Ron said one evening, dropping a towering stack of books onto my bedside table with a theatrical sigh.

"Don't be silly, Ron," I replied, unable to help a small smile. "I've got to keep up." My spirits were lifted by the fact that the hair on my face had finally disappeared, and my eyes were gradually returning to their usual brown. Still, I couldn't resist whispering, "I don't suppose you've got any new leads?" I glanced nervously toward Madam Pomfrey, hoping she couldn't hear.

"Nothing," Harry said gloomily, slumping in his chair.

"I was so sure it was Malfoy," Ron muttered, crossing his arms in frustration.

I sighed, disappointment gnawing at me. Then Harry's gaze shifted to my pillow, and he frowned. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to a glint of gold sticking out.

"Just a get-well card," I mumbled, my cheeks flushing as I tried to push it out of sight. But, of course, Ron was too quick. He snatched it up, flicked it open, and read aloud with a mock dramatic tone:

"To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart. Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award."

Ron's face twisted into an expression of utter disgust. He stared at me as if I'd just confessed to a terrible crime. "You sleep with this under your pillow?" he asked, his blue eyes boring into me.

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but before I could, Madam Pomfrey appeared, shooing them out with firm orders to let me rest. I watched them leave, Ron shaking his head in disbelief, Harry giving me a half-smile. As Madam Pomfrey handed me my evening dose of foul-smelling potion, I couldn't decide whether I was more mortified by the potion or by Ron's reaction to the card.

Late the next day, Ron came stomping into the hospital wing with a disgruntled look on his face. I peeked around the curtain, already knowing he'd been holding onto some irritation since the last time we spoke.

"I'm here," he said quietly as he came through the curtain. I gave him a small smile and nodded toward the chair by my bed. His expression didn't soften, though, as he slumped into the seat, clearly gearing up for something.

"What have you two been up to? And where's Harry?" I asked, hoping to steer the conversation somewhere neutral.

"Hung out. Got some homework done," Ron said in a way that was far too casual to be genuine. "Harry's off practicing."

I nodded and looked back down at my Charms book, pretending to read. The air between us was thick, and I wasn't entirely in the mood to entertain whatever it was he'd come in here to say.

"Really, Hermione? Not speaking to me now?" Ron asked, his tone prickling with irritation.

I sighed, keeping my focus on the page. "I really don't feel like arguing, Ron."

"Well then, how about you listen, then?" he said, leaning forward slightly. His voice was sharper now. "I think it's stupid for you to be fawning over Lockhart so much."

I shut my book with a loud snap and glared at him. I could feel the heat rising in my face. Of course this was about Lockhart. "I am not fawning over him, Ronald Weasley!"

"Yes, the bloody hell you are!" Ron snapped back, his voice louder than I liked. "You and every other witch in this school because he has great hair and is apparently so lovely to look at!"

"I'm not! I just… I admire his accomplishments, that's all!" I said defensively, but even as the words left my mouth, I knew they sounded weak.

"Accomplishments. Right," Ron huffed, crossing his arms like he'd already won the argument.

"He has books on everything he's done, Ron," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, though my frustration was bubbling over.

"Everything he's said he's done," Ron countered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Why would he lie about it?" I shot back, glaring at him.

"Gee, I don't know. So he could be famous!" Ron exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "Admit it, Hermione, he has no bloody idea what he's doing! We're in the same damn class! You've seen him!"

"Language, Ronald!" I hissed, my cheeks burning. "And maybe he just… he—"

"Hermione, just admit it. Your man is a crock of shit," Ron said with an exaggerated wave of his hand.

"He is not my man!" I practically yelled, my voice echoing through the hospital wing.

"IF YOU TWO CAN'T STOP BICKERING, I WILL SEND YOU OUT, MR. WEASLEY!" boomed Madam Pomfrey from the other side of the curtain.

"Sorry," we mumbled in unison, shrinking under her stern warning.

Ron and I looked at each other and sighed, the tension between us deflating just a little.

"Look, I don't wanna fight, okay?" Ron said, running a hand through his hair.

"Neither do I," I said, slouching back against my pillows.

"Sorry for yelling at you," he muttered, looking sheepish.

"I'm sorry too," I replied softly.

"But you've got to admit, he is still a clueless git," Ron added with a smirk.

"Ronald…"

"I'm just kidding," he said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Wanna play a game of Exploding Snap? You don't have fur on your hands anymore, so they won't catch fire like last time."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You're insufferable, you know that?" I said, shaking my head.

"I know," Ron said with a grin, shuffling the cards. "But you like it."

The hospital wing was dim and quiet that night, save for the soft rustle of Madam Pomfrey moving about in her office. I was lying back in bed, trying not to think too much about the long whiskers that had not fallen off my face yet when I heard soft footsteps.

Ginny entered the room, her face pale and drawn. She looked jittery, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. She went straight to Madam Pomfrey, muttering something about needing a potion to help her sleep.

"Ginny," I called softly, sitting up straighter. She glanced over, hesitating. For a moment, her eyes darted to my face, and I could see her noticing the lingering whiskers. She gave me a funny look, and I returned it with a raised eyebrow, silently saying, I won't ask you about your troubles if you don't ask about mine.

Her lips quirked in the faintest of smiles, and she nodded, as if understanding the unspoken agreement. With a small sigh, she moved to sit in the chair beside my bed.

"Rough day?" I asked gently, breaking the silence.

Ginny shrugged, her red hair falling forward as she stared at her lap. "I guess. Lessons haven't been going great lately. I feel like… I don't know, I'm just falling behind compared to everyone else."

"You're not falling behind," I said firmly. "Ginny, you're a first year. It's a lot to adjust to. You're learning magic that most people could only dream of. Of course, it's going to feel like a lot at times."

"But I'm not as good as everyone else in my class," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I try so hard, Hermione. It's just... some spells don't come out right, and sometimes I think—" She stopped herself, shaking her head.

I reached out and gently touched her hand, making her look at me. "You're doing fine. Honestly. Do you know how many people wish they had even half the determination you have? You'll catch up. You'll get better. Magic takes practice, but you have to give yourself the time to get there. No one expects you to be perfect right away."

She offered me a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Hermione. You always know what to say."

"Well, I try," I replied, returning the smile.

For a moment, Ginny fiddled with her sleeve again, her cheeks starting to flush. I tilted my head, curious. "What is it?"

She hesitated before blurting out, "Do you think it'd be silly to give someone a Valentine this year?"

I blinked, surprised. Then it clicked. "Oh," I said, smiling knowingly. "You mean Harry?"

Her face went crimson. "Don't—don't make it a big thing!" she whispered hurriedly, glancing toward Madam Pomfrey's office. "I was just... I don't know, I thought maybe... but it's probably a stupid idea."

"It's not a stupid idea," I said quickly, keeping my voice low to match hers. "It's sweet. If it's something you want to do, I think you should. Harry's... well, he's not always the best at noticing things, but I think he'd appreciate it."

Ginny gave a nervous laugh. "You think so?"

"I do," I said firmly. "But do it because you want to, not because you feel like you have to. Valentine's Day is supposed to be fun, remember?"

She nodded, her smile growing a little more confident. "Okay. I'll think about it."

We sat in companionable silence for a moment until Madam Pomfrey came over with Ginny's potion. Ginny stood, holding the small vial in her hand, and gave me a grateful look. "Thanks, Hermione. For everything."

"Anytime," I said warmly. "And remember—don't be too hard on yourself."

She nodded again and slipped out of the hospital wing. As I watched her go, I couldn't help but smile. It felt nice to be the one giving advice for once, even if I was stuck in the hospital wing with whiskers on my face.