Loving Lupin

    The end of class was welcomed by most of the class, but most of all Hermione. True, she still had to see Professor Zochnik-- whatever that was about-- but still, it was better than sitting there in suspense. After Hermione had given Ron and Harry a quick explanation, the pair left, as did the rest of the class.

    "You wanted to see me, Professor?" said Hermione breathlessly, as if she were in a rush to leave. If I sound busy, maybe she'll let me go earlier, thought Hermione slyly.

    "Ah. Yes. Miss Granger. Haff a seat," she said kindly.

    Hermione sat in a nearby desk, her knees shaking in anticipation.

    "You are vondering vhy I ask you to see me after class," mused the professor.

    Hermione nodded.

    "Actually, I just vanted to know if you needed to talk about anything... Anything that's on your mind."

    "On my mind?" spat Hermione before she could control herself. I seem to be doing that a lot lately, she thought mournfully.

    "Ja, on your mind. I saw you at the Yule Ball, and you didn't seem very happy."

    Hermione narrowed her eyes. What business of it was this new professor's if she was happy or not? McGonagall never poked into the student's business, and that's how Hermione liked it. She just wanted to be left alone with her own personal affairs.

    "Well, I just... I just got over a bad breakup," she blurted out.

    "Ach, ja?" asked Professor Zochnik mildly. "Who?"

    "Neville Longbottom," said Hermione, speaking the first name that came to her head.

    "That's a shame. You will feel better soon, though... All broken hearts heal eventually."

    Yeah, sure they do, thought Hermione sarcastically. That goes to show how much you know.

    However, she merely smiled at the professor and said, "You're right."

    "Vell, Hermione," said Professor Zochnik finally, "thank you for talking vith me. You're dismissed."

    Hermione pressed her hand against the top of the desk and eased herself out of the chair. As she did so, Professor Zochnik murmured in astonishment.

    "Vat an enchanting ring," she remarked innocently. "Vere did you get it?"

    Hermione stared at Professor Zochnik for a moment, her left hand clutching her right hand's set of fingers. Why did she notice the ring? It was as if this woman knew everything about the Lupin affair.

    "Someone gave it to me," said Hermione shortly.

    "Oh, dis boyfriend of yours? Neville, I think you said?" Zochnik's clear blue eyes pierced Hermione's brown ones.

    "No, someone else." She glanced upwards, where an old-fashioned clock was hanging on the classroom wall. It was beat up and aged, and it looked like it belonged to Lupin; he'd probably forgotten it in his haste to leave the school. "Sorry, Professor, but I promised I'd meet Ron and Harry after class."

    "Go then, Hermione. It vas a pleasure meeting you," said Professor Zochnik softly.

    "Likewise," she practically whispered, rushing out of the room.

    I don't understand that woman, Hermione thought anxiously. It's as if she knows things... Things no one could have told her. Not even Dumbledore, who knows about the whole thing. Her middle finger habitually slid over the ring on her fourth finger. What's she all about, anyway? I don't trust her. Not one bit.

    "All right there, Hermione?" said Ron as she came into view.

    "Yeah," murmured Hermione thoughtfully.

    "Hello? Hermione? Earth to Hermione!" teased Harry, waving a hand in front of her face.

    "Oh, sorry." She blinked and looked up at the pair. "What're we doing now?"

    "We don't have Transfiguration for another twenty minutes. Hey, Harry," added Ron suddenly, "fancy a game of chess?"

    "I'll beat you this time, Weasley," grinned Harry. "I bet you I will."

    "Hmph." Ron smirked to himself, then suddenly grabbed Hermione's hand. "C'mon, don't you want to watch?"

    She laughed, blushing slightly as he took her hand in his. He'd never really done something like that, and she certainly wasn't prepared for it right then.

    "Of course I do," she said sarcastically. "There's nothing more exciting than watching you two play chess."

    Ron grinned again. "Let's go, then."

    After they'd gotten up the common room, Hermione quickly rushed up to her dorm. (Ron shook his head as she did this.) Once upstairs, she reached under her pillow for her diary. It was sort of a silly thing, really, but she very much enjoyed recording her life in her little golden notebook. However, as she reached under, she realised something-- the diary was missing. Hermione gasped loudly, her hands furrowing through the covers, until she came to the conclusion that it was, indeed, missing.

    Just then, she looked up to see Ginny Weasley, the small, golden diary clutched in her hands.

    "Ginny!" she gasped. "How could you?"

    "Sorry," she sneered. "I guess I shouldn't have. But there was so much juicy information in there.... About you and Lupin..."

    "You aren't... You won't tell, will you?" whispered Hermione.

    "Why wouldn't I tell? It's part of my duty to the Hogwarts students. Everyone should know about this horrendous scandal, don't you think?" She smirked.

    "What's gotten into you?" snarled Hermione, grabbing Ginny by the shoulders.

    "Have you gone mad?"

    Ginny's smirk slowly melted away, only to be replaced by Draco Malfoy's. Her bright red hair shortened and became pale blonde, and her short, tiny body transformed into Malfoy's tall, built one.

    "Malfoy!" she spat. "You... You..."

    "Polyjuice Potion is much too easy to come by," he drawled, tossing the diary onto the floor. "And Colin Creevy was all too willing to give his beloved Ginny the password." He laughed cruelly.

    "What have you done with her?" yelled Hermione, whipping her wand out of her pocket. "What have you done?"

    "Oh, she'll be back in a couple of hours or so; don't worry." Malfoy smiled smugly at her. "I can't believe it, Hermione, you and Lupin... Out of all people... I mean, I know that girls usually go after rich men, but Weasley isn't that bad... And Lupin wasn't even rich, anyway..."

    Curse him, thought Hermione wildly. Curse him!

    She raised her wand over her head and aimed it Malfoy, whispering, "Oblivi--"

    But he was quicker than her. "EXPERLLIMARUS!" shouted Malfoy.

    Hermione's wand flew out of her hand, while the force of the disarming spell caused her to be knocked backwards onto her bed. Her head thunked against the headboard, and she immediately fell unconcious.

    "Sorry about that, Mudblood," whispered Malfoy. "But I have things to do." He reached up and pulled the cloak around his face so that he wouldn't be recognised, and he walked out.

    As Malfoy passed Ron and Harry, who were deeply engrossed in their chess game, both of the boys looked up.

    "Who's that?" muttered Ron. "He-- or she-- doesn't exactly look like your typical Gryffindor."

    "A weird first year, maybe?" quipped Harry.

    Ron snickered. "Maybe."

    "So, anyway," Harry continued in a soft voice, even after the cloaked figure had left. "When are you going to tell her?"

    Ron turned bright red. "Not anytime soon, I can tell you," he mumbled.

    "Why not?" exclaimed Harry, watching as Ron knocked one of his pieces off the chess board. "It'd be the best thing for her right now."

    "She's still in love with Lupin," sighed Ron, tapping one of his pawns thoughtfully against the board. "As long as she's still in love with him, I can't say anything."

    Harry sighed, too. "I wish there was something we could do."

    "Me too," murmured Ron. "But right now, I don't think there is anything we can do to help her. Time heals, I guess."

    "I guess," agreed Harry reluctantly.

    "Whoa, it's almost time for Transfiguration! McGonagall will kill us if we're late," he added nervously, glancing at his watch. "We'd better go get Hermione."

    Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I don't want to go in her dorm. We're not allowed."

    "Oh, I'll go, then," he snapped.

    "What if she's getting dressed or something?" asked Harry.

    "Well, I certainly hope she's not." He grinned nervously, then hopped out of his chair and made for the stairs.

    "Hermione?" called Ron, stepping into the girl's dormitory. "Hey, Hermione?" He tried his best to sound cool and confident, even though he was secretly terrifed of stumbling in on Hermione half-naked.

    "Where could she be?" he muttered, kicking a blanket on the floor out of his footpath. That's when he spotted her.

    "Hermione!" he groaned, rushing over to her limp body. There was a bright red trickle of blood making its way down her forehead. "Hermione, wake up! Wake up!" He shook at her shoulders, but she wouldn't wake up. No, thought Ron desperately.

    She can't be... Is she...

    Dead?