Hermione Granger and the Half-Blood Prince

Take your head around the world

See what you get from your mind

Write your soul down word for word

See who's your friend and who is kind

Well, it's almost like a disease

And I know soon you will be over the lies

You'll be strong

You'll be rich in love

And you will carry on

But no, no, oh, no

No, you won't be mine

"You Won't Be Mine" Matchbox 20

**

Hermione pushed herself off the table she had been leaning against as Harry and Ron finally emerged from the door leading to the boys' dormitory. "Good morning," she greeted with a smile. "Ready for--"

Ron pushed past her without a word.

Her stomach dropped out from under her. What on earth--? Wide-eyed, she watched Ron roughly push past a few first-years to stalk out of the portrait hole. His irate back wasn't giving her any answers so she turned to appeal to Harry. Harry only shrugged, looking slightly dazed as he followed Ron out of the common room.

She stared after them, too bewildered to move. What on earth happened?

Determinedly, Hermione picked up her stride so she could catch up with Harry. Ron, with his long legs, was too far ahead. Besides, if she wanted answers about Ron's foul mood, she would have to go through Harry first. Whenever Ron was upset, it took a great deal of prying and tactful concern to get him to open up. If she had an inkling of what was bothering Ron, she would have a better chance at finding a way to help.

"Are you okay?" she asked Harry first as she caught a second glimpse of his dazed face. Please don't say you had a fight with Ron...

"Yeah," Harry reassured blankly. "Didn't sleep well." He stuck two fingers under his glasses so he could rub his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up.

Thank God, Hermione breathed although she was sorry to hear that something was disrupting Harry's sleep. She didn't know what she'd do if Harry and Ron fought as they did in fourth-year. That had been one of the most trying times of her life and she had lived through Time-Turner hell and Umbridge. "Do you know what's wrong with him?" she asked Harry point-blank, nodding up towards Ron who was more than several yards ahead of them.

Harry turned very slightly pink. "No. Reckon he didn't sleep well either."

Harry was a horrible liar. He always had been. He could mouth off and bluff to scores of Death Eaters, but he could never convincingly lie to his best friends. Harry knew why Ron was so upset. He just didn't want to tell her. Hermione shifted her schoolbag to a more comfortable position on her shoulder and picked up her step. If Harry didn't want to tell her, that was fine. It really wasn't Harry's place to say. It was up to Ron.

Ron was already dishing up as much food as his plate could hold when Hermione sat next to him. He didn't even look in her direction. "Hi," she tried again after he had taken a few bites. Food always helped pacify Ron. Besides, maybe he really wasn't angry. Maybe he was still grumpy and half-awake but now he was awake and ready to converse like a normal human being.

The only response she received was a particularly angry grunt.

There was no denying it. Ron was certainly angry about something. Hermione poured herself a cup of coffee and turned her attention to Harry. Perhaps after Ron got an entire meal in him, he would finally be able to talk. "So how was practice last night?" Hermione asked amicably. She had gone to bed before they had returned so she hadn't seen them since dinner.

"Why?" Ron spat. "You think it went lousy?" He speared a sausage and savagely sank his teeth into it. "I bet you did," he added with an irate mutter.

Hermione blinked. This was eerily similar to what had happened after Ron's first Quidditch practice ever in fifth-year. She glanced over at Harry for guidance but he looked as bewildered as she felt. "I didn't," she said in a soft, placating voice. "I was just asking--"

"Well, don't!" With a fierce glare, Ron thrust his seat backwards and stomped out of the Great Hall. He had actually stormed away from his breakfast. He must be really furious.

She considered for a few seconds going after him, but miserably, she remained seated, curling her fingers tightly around her coffee mug so the soothing warmth could soak through her fingers. Harry distractedly poked his eggs around his plate; it appeared that both of them no longer had much of an appetite.

"Are you sure you don't know what's wrong?" Hermione asked abruptly, plaintive desperation eking into her voice.

Harry hesitated, took one look at her anxious face, and determinedly shook his head, obviously lying. "No. No idea."

**

Ron's mood only worsened throughout the course of the day. In Herbology, when one of the prickly vines of the Snargaluff tangled itself in her hair--as always--Ron just let out a bark of laughter and left Hermione to fend for herself. Harry had to intervene, freeing Hermione with by deftly grabbing the vine and yanking it back, accidentally pulling Hermione's hair in the process. This produced another short laugh from Ron, earning him a sharp glare from Hermione. She was rather tender-headed so the yank had caused her head to throb and her fury to rise. Ron was laughing because she was in pain. Ron never would laugh at her pain. Harry had tried to convince her that Ron must have been laughing at Neville who had been smacked in the face by the pulsating pod he was trying to squash, but she knew. Hermione hung back while Harry and Ron tried to extract another pod, rubbing her still sensitive head. She couldn't believe that only a week ago, she had asked Ron out in this very greenhouse. He in turn had said yes to her invitation and now here they were, in the middle of a row that Hermione didn't even know had started: what on earth had happened?

At lunch, Ron pointedly ignored Hermione throughout the entire meal, only speaking a few times to Harry in a clipped, terse voice that was so unlike him. The only highlight of the hour was that Hermione received a small clue about what had happened. Ginny and Dean had passed by, Ginny pausing to give Harry and her a wave. Dean had shifted his eyes edgily, practically yanking on Ginny's hand to steer her away from the trio. Ginny had tried to meet Ron's eyes but the moment he had saw his sister, Ron's scowl had deepened and he slashed into his shepherd's pie so fiercely that the tine of his fork squeaked shrilly in protest as it scraped against the porcelain. Hermione had flinched at the piercing sound, but she still noticed that Ginny had rolled her eyes and pointedly ignored Ron for the rest of the meal.

So Harry's distracted, Ron's furious, Ginny's angry, and Dean's all shifty, Hermione chronicled pensively, staring morosely down at her nearly full plate. She still didn't have much of an appetite. She ran over everything she knew again in her mind. Something must have happened at Quidditch practice or immediately afterwards. That was the only explanation: all four of them were there and now were acting strange. That would also explain why Ron had bitten her head off at breakfast when she brought up Quidditch; he didn't want to be reminded about what had happened.

Arithmancy offered Hermione a brief respite from Ron's sneer and cold eyes, but she still had Charms to contend with. Harry sat between them, trying to keep the peace, but with every mutter, roll of the eyes, and icy glare, Hermione became more and more frustrated. She had tried to help Ron with his wand movement, but he only ignored her completely, purposely doing the exact opposite of what she advised. When she showed no inclination of relenting, Ron had strode over to Lavender and Parvati's table to ask for help. Harry had made a feeble joke about Ron trying to pass Charms by using Divination, but Hermione hadn't even cracked a smile. This situation was rapidly becoming anything but amusing.

When the bell signaled their release, Hermione was ready. Scooping up her books, she darted out of the classroom before anyone so she could plant her feet in the ground and block Ron's path as he came stomping into the corridor with Harry. Upon seeing the look in her eye, Harry hung back warily. Ron may be the person Harry would miss the most in the entire world, but right now, he was on his own.

Ron attempted to sidestep her, but Hermione deftly countered him. "What is the matter with you?" she demanded.

"Nothing," Ron sneered.

"I was just trying to help you--"

"I don't need your pity," Ron snapped.

Hermione gasped. "It wasn't pity!"

But Ron clearly thought it was. He stepped irately towards her so Hermione was more aware than ever of their height difference. "I'm not your charity case!"

"Of course you're not! How could you think--?"

"I know, Hermione! I know!" Ron shouted so loudly that his voice reverberated up and down the corridor multiple times. Hermione just stared at him in utter confusion, dying to scream out just what the hell did he know, because she had absolutely no idea what was going on.

People were starting to linger in the hall, watching the two with keen interest. Lavender Brown looked as though Christmas had come early. Harry coughed discretely and stepped between them so they were shielded from the furious glares of each other. "Hey, maybe we should go to dinner."

But Hermione had no intention of going anywhere; not until she had some answers. She sidestepped Harry and looked Ron dead in the eye, all of the anger absent from her voice. "Ron, I don't understand--what did I do?"

Ron didn't answer. Well, not coherently. Giving her a glare that was so vindictive that Hermione seriously considered looking over her shoulder to see if Viktor Krum was standing behind her, Ron muttered a mulish 'I know' once again and stormed away. As soon as he had rounded a corner, the small crowd felt it was safe to start whispering and tittering amongst themselves about what they had just witnessed. Lavender sailed past Hermione and hurried to catch up with Ron. Hermione clung her books tight to her chest. Lavender could have Ron if he was going to treat her like this. That was a bald-faced lie, but Hermione stuck to it nevertheless.

Harry nudged her cautiously. "Dinner?" he asked awkwardly.

She agreed, mainly so she could get away from the students staring curiously at her. Once again, Hermione had absolutely no appetite. She just wanted some answers. And if Ron wasn't going to give them to her and if Harry claimed not to have any idea what was bothering Ron, she was going to go to the one other person that would never let her down.

**

Ginny Weasley slipped into Hermione's dormitory with a thoroughly annoyed expression all over her pretty face. "I am sorry my brother is such a big fat prat!" she raged instantly after slamming the door louder than necessary.

Hermione gratefully closed the Transfiguration text she had been trying to read and focused grimly on Ginny. "What's going on?" Hermione asked tightly. After a long, tense dinner, Hermione had attempted one last time to reconcile with Ron while the three of them tried to study in the common room. She had been quite surprised that he had even sat with her--Harry must have forced him too--so when he plopped down across from her, she had treated him to an apologizing, warm smile that should have dissuaded all doubts about her feelings for him. But Ron had ignored it, stoically scrawling his homework in a wide, furious script. He never concentrated well when he was in a bad temper so within an hour he had already broke two quills, upended his ink bottle, and muttered every single curse word imaginable plus making up a few new ones. She had made one last attempt to reach Ron by pressing her foot so close to his that their legs were touching and tingling almost as one. It was the way she and Ron had started to sit while studying so they could discretely be touching without anyone noticing. It was a subtle flirtation, but Ron seemed to enjoy it as much as she did: usually, he was the one who instigated it.

But today, as soon as their legs brushed, Ron lashed out his foot to the side, kicking Hermione's leg away so her ankle bounced angrily off of the table leg. Biting down a squeal of pain, Hermione shoved her chair back and leapt to her feet to give Ron her toughest glare. She had had enough. She testily requested Ron to please act like a human being tomorrow before gathering up her books and retreating up to her dormitory. Before Hermione had left the common room, she had given a Ginny a come-upstairs-please-and-explain-what's-going-on-please look. Ginny had been in the middle of a discussion with Dean and held up a finger to ask Hermione to give her a minute to settle things here before she came up. Since then, Hermione had been studying in her blissfully empty dormitory, but as much as she loved her lessons, she was very relieved to put her homework aside for the moment. Her concentration was pretty much ruined after this long, awful day.

Ginny crossed over to sit on the foot of Hermione's bed, her anger transforming into abashed guilt. "I really didn't think he'd be mad at you too," she apologized.

"What happened?" Hermione asked again restlessly.

"Ron and Harry walked in on me and Dean snogging," Ginny explained dispassionately. "After Quidditch practice last night. Ron of course acted like a total prat and yelled at me for snogging in the hallway and practically scared poor Dean to death--I think Dean thought he was going to be killed. So I sent Dean away and I told Ron that it was really none of his business what I did and who I did it with or where I chose to do it. Ron told me that it was because he didn't want anyone saying that his sister was--"

"A scarlet woman?" Hermione interjected wryly.

"Something like that," Ginny said with a roll of her eyes. "Anyway, I told him that just because he never got a good snog didn't mean the rest of us couldn't--"

"Ginny!"

"Oh, don't 'Ginny' me yet, it gets worse," Ginny told her grimly. She hesitated, knowing that Hermione was about to get as angry as her brother. "He said that he had snogged and just didn't do it in public which I knew was a load of hippogriff-sh--oh Merlin!" Ginny slapped a hand over her mouth when she saw Hermione's face. "You did snog him, didn't you?"

"Just once," Hermione said uneasily. "We just did it so Malfoy wouldn't catch us." She couldn't help becoming deeply afraid that her snog with Ron wasn't the snogging he was referring to.

"Yeah, right," Ginny said sarcastically. "Anyway, at the time, I didn't believe him and I said that the only reason he didn't like me snogging was that everyone else did but him. And I started giving examples--"

Hermione straightened up with wide eyes. "Ginny, you didn't."

"I did," Ginny said with a wince, steeling herself for an explosion. "I told him that you snogged Viktor."

"Ginny!"

"I thought he knew!" Ginny defended herself as Hermione buried her face in her hands. "I mean, how could he not?! You went to the ball with him! You were the person Viktor would miss the most for a reason!"

"He actually hadn't kissed me at that point," Hermione corrected disinterestedly.

Ginny blinked with honest surprise. "Really?"

"Have you snogged the person you would miss the most?" Hermione pointed out shrewdly.

Ginny opted not to answer that question. She swung her long hair over her shoulders and leaned forward curiously. A change in topic was definitely in order. "When did he finally kiss you? I always wanted to ask."

Hermione shifted her position so she was sitting cross-legged on her bed, feeling a little uncomfortable. She and Ginny had confided a lot in each other, but never ever had they discussed their snoggings in intricate detail. Hermione actually never liked to discuss her brief fling with Viktor, but if it would allow her to take her mind off of Ron...

"It was right after the second task," Hermione explained. "We all had been taken up to hospital to make sure that we were all okay. Viktor was acting a bit odd because he had just told me--"

"--that he loved you, blah blah; it was all in the article," Ginny interrupted dismissively. She sat up avidly on her knees. "Go on."

"--he told me all those things and then as soon as Harry and Ron came out of the water, I ignored Viktor completely and talked to them instead--" Hermione suddenly felt that she had to explain herself; it was rather callous to have those lovely things said to her and then at the next second, turn her back on Viktor to talk to her friends. "--it was just that I was so worried. You remember what it was like; Harry was down there for so long, I thought that something awful might have happened..."

"Of course you did," Ginny reassured impatiently. "Go on."

Hermione reached back to plunk Bilius down in her lap before continuing. She just wanted to hold something of Ron's for a moment; she had no idea why. "So Viktor was scowling--he always suspected I liked Harry--and I started to feel guilty acting like I did so I offered to walk him out to his ship. And when we got outside, I apologized for my behavior and I told him that what he said to me really meant a lot and I was really grateful to have him in my life."

Ginny had scrunched up her face, making exaggerated kissing noises. Hermione paused so she could reach back and toss a pillow at Ginny. She caught it, held it in her lap, like Hermione was holding Bilius, and nodded for Hermione to continue. Hermione drew up her shoulders with a shrug. "And he kissed me," she finished rather anticlimactically.

Ginny however was not going to let the story die so easily. "Well, what it was like?"

"It was nice," Hermione recalled. She blushed slightly as the memory of Viktor's mouth on hers passed deliciously over her. "Really nice." Ginny flapped her hands urgently in a silent plea for her to elaborate. "It was overwhelming. I couldn't even think or breathe--it was just so intense so quickly and I never understood why me of all the other girls, but that moment, more than any romantic thing he could say, proved how much he liked me. I could feel it blistering in his skin--he really liked me. He wanted me." Hermione hugged Bilius even closer, two of her fingers edgily picking and smoothing a patch of Bilius' fur. "And not just for snogging. He wanted more."

"And you didn't want that?"

"Of course not." Hermione shook her head emphatically. She wouldn't be ready for that in a good long time and when she was, it had to be with the right person. As amazing as he was, Viktor wasn't that person. "I was fifteen--I barely understood what that was, let alone how on earth I could go about having--that." Her cheeks flushed hotter. "But it was really nice," she admitted shyly. "Intoxicating, almost. All of the blood had rushed up to my brain and I couldn't think anymore. I just--" Hermione faltered, eyes riveted to Bilius' tattered ear. As dear a friend as Ginny was, it was embarrassing to admit this aloud to her.

"You didn't want it to stop," Ginny finished understandingly for her. She couldn't help chuckling a little at her friend's obvious mortification at this topic. "Hermione, it's okay to have a sex drive. We all do."

Squirming slightly, Hermione exasperatedly raised her eyes to appeal to Ginny directly, unburdening a burning question that had been bothering her for a long time. "But why did I feel that way about Viktor when I'm in love with Ron? Isn't snogging and--sex--and everything supposed to only be done with one person, the right person? I know Viktor isn't that and yet, sometimes, I would--not want to stop."

"Because we're not in a bloody book or the Middle Ages, Hermione!" Ginny replied with an equal amount of annoyance. "It's best if done with someone you love, but it can still be pretty damn fun with someone else! How do you think I'm able to snog Dean and Michael?! I have feelings and needs and if Harry's not going to--hang on!" Ginny perked up considerably as she suddenly realized what Hermione had just said. "How can you feel that way about Viktor when you're what?"

Hermione buried her face into Bilius, cheeks flaming so fiercely that she reckoned they could see her bright magenta face all the way in London .

"You LOVE him?!" Ginny bounced up and down on Hermione's bed, shaking Hermione's arm gleefully. "You never told me that! Hermione! We're going to be sisters!"

"I think you're getting a little ahead of yourself," Hermione muttered into Bilius.

In a true Weasley manner, Ginny grabbed Hermione in a quick hug and after releasing her, punched Hermione lightly on the shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I sort of wanted him to be the first to hear the news," Hermione confessed. She finally surfaced from the safety of Bilius' back, smoothing her hair back awkwardly. "But if he's going to act like a total prat..." She trailed off and shrugged. She actually didn't know what she would do if Ron's head was permanently lodged up his arse.

Ginny remained quiet, knowing Hermione needed a moment to think. Hermione stared down at her comforter thoughtfully. "So, Ron's angry with me because I kissed a boy two years ago when he was still quite unaware that I was even a girl?"

"Yeah."

"When he made no indication that he had any interest in me whatsoever, I apparently was supposed to sit around pining for him while he tried to sort out what he felt for me?"

"Apparently."

Hermione clenched her jaw and squeezed Bilius again, but this time not so tenderly. "Prat."

**

For the next few days, Hermione stubbornly alternated between ignoring Ron and snapping at him for every little thing. At first, she did it purely out of spite--Ron's wrath towards her was incredibly immature. Then, she had tired of it and tried to actually talk to Ron like an adult. When they had patrolled on Thursday, Hermione had bluntly asked Ron if he was angry with her because she had kissed Viktor. Ron's response had been to stalk away, leaving her to finish their rounds alone. She had tried one more time when she returned to the common room, but he had snapped that she could snog the hell out of Vicky every second of every day; he could care less. Ron had then stalked over to say hello to Lavender, infuriating Hermione so much that she continued to treat him with icy indifference. If he was going to be awful to her, she was going to be awful to him: it was a vicious cycle that made her sick to her stomach, but Hermione was going to stick to it.

But on the morning of the first Quidditch match of the year, Hermione awoke with her firm resolve visibly shaken. Ginny had told her how horribly Ron had been playing in Quidditch due to his foul temper. He was going to be terribly nervous this morning; she could sense that half of his surly mood last night at dinner was due to the upcoming Quidditch match rather than her snogging Viktor.

The problem was that today was Quidditch. This was the first time that Hermione would watch Ron play without fear of 'Weasley is Our King' ringing eternally in her ears. The Slytherins had given up on the taunting song after the Gryffindors had changed the lyrics to triumphantly reflect the winning of the Quidditch Cup last year. This was the first time she could see him play as well as he possibly could. Hopefully. Hermione bit her lip. The Quidditch trials had boosted Ron's self-confidence considerably, but after this week, Hermione wasn't so certain it would last. Maybe the Slytherin Chasers would be scared away by Ron's permanent scowl.

Hermione hesitated at the entrance to the Great Hall. Today was Quidditch and despite everything, she wanted to wish Ron good luck in the way she has last year. She at first had refused to come to breakfast with Harry and Ron, but she had to eat something. And no matter what, she had to wish Ron and Harry good luck.

"How are you both feeling?" she asked tentatively as she stood behind Ron, eyes on the back of his head.

"Fine," said Harry distractedly. He was concentrating much too intently on pouring a glass of juice. Quickly, he brought up his other hand which was so tightly clenched around a vial that she couldn't even see what the contents was and upended it over the goblet. Ron was scowling down at his plate so he didn't even notice. "There you go, Ron. Drink up." Harry pushed the glass toward Ron while stealthily sneaking his hand under the table.

Hermione could only stare. Harry wouldn't--not to his best friend--Harry couldn't--

But Harry had.

Ron was raising the glass to his lips and dangerously came close to swallowing so Hermione hastily spoke up. "Don't drink that, Ron!"

"Why not?" said Ron. It was the most normal thing he had said to her all week, but Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of Harry. It was as though she had never seen Harry before in her entire life. He was looking at her with an unusual sanctimonious expression, as if daring her to tell on him. This wasn't Harry; this was more Ron's style. What was the matter with everybody?

"You just put something in that drink."

"Excuse me?" said Harry with completely false innocence.

She pointed accusingly at him. "You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron's drink. You've got the bottle in your hand right now!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry, his arm jerking towards his pocket in a clumsy attempt to hide the bottle he had been clutching.

Ron looked at Harry curiously then examined the goblet carefully as he tried to discern what had been added to his drink. He glanced up at Hermione with a hard, determined gleam in his eyes as he picked up the glass again. Honestly alarmed, Hermione put her hand on his shoulder. "Ron, I warn you, don't drink it!"

But Ron picked up the glass, shrugged her hand away from him, drained his drink in one gulp, and said, "Stop bossing me around, Hermione."

Hermione gaped at him, appalled. Ron would actually risk his health rather than listen to her. Although she knew that Harry would never really hurt Ron, whatever Harry had put in the drink had to be terribly wrong and even illegal. There was always the chance that the potion Harry had had been misbrewed--even if he did have the stupid Half-Blood Prince to help him--so Ron could suffer from serious side-effects. Ron still looked perfectly healthy at the moment, but he could keel over at any minute and it would be all Harry's fault. Harry had broken the rules before but never like this before. She stalked over to the other side of Harry and bent down so only he could hear her. "You should be expelled for that. I'd never have believed it of you, Harry!"

"Hark who's talking," he whispered back. "Confunded anyone lately?"

That was different, she thought hotly at him but as much as she wanted to, she couldn't say those words out loud. Not with Ron right next to Harry; no matter how angry she was with him, not even the Cruciatus curse could make her tell Ron that he only got his place on the team because of her sabotage. It would kill his self-esteem. Maybe that wouldn't be such an awful thing, Hermione thought bitterly as she flounced to the far end of the table to eat with Neville. Recalling her original intention of approaching her two best friends, Hermione shot one contemptuous look down the table at Ron and Harry. Good luck, she thought bitterly at them. With Ron's nerves and Harry not-so-subtly cheating, they were going to need it.

**

Except they didn't.

Hermione let out a loud shout of approval and clapped as hard as she could as Ron saved his fourth goal and flung the Quaffle downfield straight into Ginny's awaiting hands. She bounced excitedly in place; she hadn't been able to sit since Ron's first spectacular save. Ron was absolutely marvelous!

"He's playing really well," Neville commented animatedly to her as he stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle of support for the mighty Gryffindors. Luna's gigantic lion-hat roared in response.

"He is, isn't he?" Hermione gushed before letting out a squeal and another round of applause as Ginny scored her third goal of the match. She much more excited than usual since her three dearest friends were all playing fantastically. Her eyes shot up to check on Harry, who was as usual high in the air, eyes darting around fervently for a glimpse of gold. He hadn't spotted it yet, but Hermione knew it was only a matter of time, especially since he was up against an inexperienced player like Harper. Hermione frowned up at the Slytherin Seeker who was also circling above the game like a hawk, searching for the Snitch. It was highly unusual that Malfoy had dropped out of the match due to illness; she had very unfortunately seen him yesterday and he appeared to be perfectly fine, not to mention that the last time Malfoy had been injured before a match, he arranged for the game to be rescheduled so he could play. Why hadn't he done the same this time?

Zacharias Smith, who was irritatingly commentating on the match, was criticizing Harry's choices for Beaters, but at least he had moved on from Ron and Ginny. Otherwise, he may have had a minor but unfortunate accident like McLaggen had during tryouts. But no matter what criticizing remarks Zacharias could say, Gryffindor could not be dissuaded. Ron saved absolutely every shot fired at him and the Chasers were on top form, scoring again and again until they were leading by a ninety points.

Hermione gasped as Ron swatted the Quaffle that had just been chucked at him, the hard leather ball bouncing off of his palms so he could catch it neatly on the second try. Urquhart however was charging straight towards Ron's head in hopes of making Ron nervous and fumbling with the Quaffle. When it became clear that Slytherin Captain had no indication of veering off-course, Ron swung agilely downwards so he was hanging on by his knees, dangling underneath his broom while Urquhart zoomed over him and narrowly avoided colliding into the center hoop. Hermione held her breath anxiously, chewing her lip, expecting the Slytherin to attempt sabotage while Ron was hanging helplessly, but Ron had tossed the Quaffle off to Katie and with a glare, Urquhart zipped over to attempt to steal the ball back from the Chaser.

Lavender, no doubt put out by Hermione's squeals for Ron, began singing loudly a chorus of "Weasley Is Our King" to show Ron how much they adored him. Hermione smiled and joined in as she clapped fervently for her team. Ron swung himself up and smirked. He was really eating this up. Since the Quaffle was safely downfield, he pretended to conduct the ardent singers from on high with such a proud, humorous air that Hermione couldn't help shaking her head and laughing. As annoying and obnoxious as Ron could be, he could never fail to make her laugh.

"He is on fire today," Neville commented yet again. "He's saved everything; he's the luckiest player I've ever seen! I knew he was great, but I never realized--Hermione?" He frowned as Hermione abruptly sat down, her smile whisked clean away. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Hermione lied hollowly. She suddenly felt as deflated and defeated as a punctured balloon. How could she have been so stupid? After the game had started to so well, she had assumed that Harry had used some sort of cheering potion or a potion to suppress nerves or something he had found in his stupid Prince book. Then, as the game progressed, she had grown so excited that the incident at breakfast had been pushed in the back of her mind. Ron and Harry hadn't needed luck: they already had it. Liquid luck, to be precise. Hermione had almost completely forgotten about the Felix Felicis Harry had won the first day of Potions and even if she hadn't, she never would have guessed that Harry would have the audacity to use it for Quidditch--well, yes, he would, but not after Slughorn had specifically told them that it was outlawed to use the potion for sporting events. It was illegal. They were only winning so spectacularly because of a spell. She stared in disappointed disbelief up at Harry who was finally moving, racing after Harper. Harry, how could you?

"And I think Harper of Slytherin's seen the Snitch! Yes, he's certainly seen something Potter hasn't!"

Hermione leapt up to her feet again, her heart hammering with conflicting confusion. She no longer was sure if she wanted Harry to catch up in time. If he did, then it was certain that he had used Felix Felicis and performed a highly illegal action that could at the minimum get him expelled. If he didn't, then they would lose the match but Harry hadn't broken any laws. The crowd was screaming loudly as the two Seekers accelerated as fast as they dared. The players in the air slowed and watched with bated breath. Ron was screaming obscenities at Harper in hopes of slowing him down, but it was no use. Harper had his hand stretched out, indicating that he must be close to the Snitch--Hermione couldn't see the tiny ball from this distance--and Harry was still a foot behind him. It looked as though he wasn't going to make it. Hermione's stomach lurched and she couldn't stop herself from screaming, "Come on, Harry!" Maybe she cared more about Quidditch than she let on.

Then, with a stroke of luck, Harper did an odd double-take, fumbled, and shot straight forward. Harry surged forward and made a great swipe as the Gryffindor fans and team watched with trepidation.

"YES!" Harry yelled. Wheeling around, he hurtled back toward the ground, the Snitch held high in his hand. A great shout went up and the Gryffindor fans were so busy jumping and down and hugging each other in celebration that no one noticed that Hermione wasn't joining in. She just sighed as she watched Harry being caught up in a mass midair hug by his teammates. Oh Harry...

She slipped out of the celebrating frenzy, ignoring all the hubbub about the party that would be spontaneously put up in the common room upon their return to the tower. She didn't care about some stupid party. Hermione had to talk to Harry about this. She started up to the castle so she could be ready to pounce when they stepped into the common room, but after seeing Seamus and McLaggen dashing off, shouting to Dean as the team trooped off the pitch about getting supplies, Hermione stopped and reconsidered. There would be a party going on in the common room: not exactly the proper place for a lecture. They would have to have this confrontation elsewhere.

Turning back, Hermione fought her way through the torrent of people returning to the castle so she could return to the pitch. She would have to speak to Harry as soon as he came out of the changing room. Peakes and Coote exited first, giving Hermione a merry wave as they passed her. Hermione didn't return it; instead, she irritatingly pulled her scarf from around her neck. She suddenly had become quite hot and flustered. She really didn't want to have to do this--she was as happy as anyone about the extraordinary outcome of the match--but it wasn't right. Like using a love potion, using magic like this wasn't fair. She couldn't condone this no matter how proud she was of her friends.

Ginny, Dean, and Demelza emerged next, chatting excitedly with each other about the party. Upon seeing Hermione, Ginny paused to stop and smile. "You should really try making up with him now if you want to," Ginny advised. "He's in a brilliant mood--oh, damn it, what did he do now?" Ginny finished with annoyance when she saw the upset expression on Hermione's face. "Did he say something to you at breakfast? I'm going to kill him for this--"

"I-I just need to talk to them," Hermione stuttered slightly. She couldn't tell Ginny about this; she couldn't tell anyone. Harry could be sent to prison for this.

"Well, they're still in there," Ginny gestured behind her. "They're the only ones left so you could go in there. Get some privacy."

"Thanks," Hermione said as she took a deep breath and started into the changing room, barely registering that Ginny called out a quiet 'good luck' to her as she went into the room. As Ginny had said, Ron and Harry were the only two left and from the looks of it, were just preparing to leave. Ron grinned at her, clearly ready to bury the hatchet after the glorious day he had just had, but Hermione looked only at Harry who was also smirking in an odd way. Ron's delight would only make this harder. She twisted her scarf nervously in her hands. "I want a word with you, Harry." She took a deep breath. "You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, it's illegal."

Ron's smile had faded. "What are you going to do, turn us in?" he demanded.

Hermione ignored him, still focusing on Harry. He had annoyingly turned away from her to hang up his robes so she couldn't see his face. "What are you two talking about?" he asked with infuriating blitheness.

"You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" said Hermione shrilly. Harry couldn't run away from this or hide behind his Boy-Who-Lived image; he had made a huge mistake and as much as she hated to admit it, the situation had to be dealt with. She was debating whether or not to tell McGonagall about Harry's actions; maybe if Harry would just act like he was sorry for what he did and promised never to do it again, she could let it go. He was her best friend, after all. She certainly didn't want him to be expelled. "You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!"

Harry turned back to face them. "No, I didn't."

With a raise of her chin, Hermione gave Harry her fiercest stare, hoping it was enough to make him confess. If he didn't, there was nothing else she could do; Hermione would have to report him. Otherwise, he would never learn his lesson. "Yes you did, Harry, and that's why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!"

"I didn't put it in!" said Harry, grinning broadly. He slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket and drew out the tiny bottle that Hermione had seen this morning. It was still full of the golden potion and the cork was still sealed with wax. It hadn't been opened. "I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking." He looked over at Ron. "You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself."

He pocketed the potion again, looking very pleased with himself. As he should, Hermione begrudgingly admitted. Her legs felt tingly and limp with utter relief, just like they had when Harry had returned from his trial the summer before fifth-year and announced that he had been acquitted. She would have dropped down into a chair if there was one nearby. Instead, she contented herself to lay a steadying hand on her chest and smiling ruefully at Harry. For God's sake, Hermione thought with half-exasperation, half-elation, that's a tricky game you played, Harry Potter. She always knew in some ways, Harry was really the cleverest one of them all.

"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice?" Ron said, astounded. "But the weather's good...and Vaisey couldn't play...I honestly haven't been given lucky potion?"

Harry shook his head and Ron just gaped at him. Hermione's smile grew wider. She didn't think she was ever going to have to worry about Ron and nerves again. This, more than anything, should reassure him that he was the brilliant Keeper he had always dreamed of becoming.

But then, as always, Ron ruined everything. He rounded on Hermione, imitating her voice. "You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything! See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!"

"I never said you couldn't--Ron, you thought you'd been given it too!" Hermione shouted back, stung. She wanted to yell some more, but Ron was already striding past her and before she knew it, he had left her behind. She inhaled sharply through her nose to push back the cursed prickling behind her eyes.

Harry looked completely horrified and guilty about the sudden turn of events. Like her, he had assumed all would be forgiven after he had revealed that no lucky potion had been involved. Hermione folded her arms over her chest. Harry had no reason to feel guilty. This was definitely all of Ron's fault: stupid, awful, insensitive Ron. She blinked rapidly to keep from crying in front of Harry. Why did she have to like him so much?

"Er," Harry said finally. Clearly, he had no idea what to do. "Shall...shall we go up to the party, then?"

Hermione would rather eat undiluted bubotuber pus. "You go!" she said. "I'm sick of Ron at the moment, I don't know what I'm supposed to have done..."

She bolted out of the changing room and ducking her head so the crowd wouldn't see her tears, she fled to the safety of the beech tree near the lake. Ducking around to the far side of the trunk so she was shield from view, Hermione collapsed to the earth, sniffing repeatedly to keep herself from falling completely apart. She was dangerously close to blubbering; as she did with most things, Hermione had unconsciously categorized the different types of crying--probably because she did it more often than most girls. The mildest form of crying was obviously when she cried out of bliss or laughter, followed by the times she cried when she received a low mark or read a sad passage in a book. She was always able to quickly recover from those two types, but the others were much more difficult. In increasing order, there was the crying that occurred when she was stressed out, the crying she did when she was worried, the times she cried when she fought with her parents or friends, and finally there was blubbering. Blubbering was by far the most difficult to recover from and often consisted of Hermione sobbing her heart out for well over an hour, quite unable to stop until she was so exhausted that she could scarcely breathe, let alone sob. She had only blubbered on one other occasion: when she had woke up at the Ministry. Ron had mercifully been there to help her survive that ordeal, but now there was just her. She had to get through this on her own.

With deep, forceful breaths, Hermione struggled to breathe at a normal rhythm while allowing the tears to splash down her cheeks and onto the Gryffindor scarf she was still clutching. She always found that when she bottled up her tears, they would eventually come out anyway. She might as well get them out so she could feel cleansed and better prepared to face whatever had made her cry in the first place. As her breath returned to normal and the sobs abated, Hermione tried to sort through the mess she had somehow gotten herself entangled in.

She honestly didn't know what she was doing wrong. Ron had become upset when he heard she had kissed Viktor--it was rather naïve of him to think that she hadn't, but she found it annoyingly endearing--so she had tried to talk to him about it. He of course had acted like a prat and only made her even angrier. But when she had swallowed her anger to warn him about Harry spiking his drink, Ron had just gulped it down anyway and told her to leave him alone. And then, when she had accused Harry of doing something illegal--Dumbledore himself said that standing up to your friends was harder than standing up to your enemies; her friends should at least respect that she had the courage to speak her mind--he had turned on her again, furious that she hadn't believed he could play well on his own, even when he himself had thought he had taken the potion. Hermione had just acted as she had seen right; if she could back and change the past few days, she couldn't think of anything she would change. She didn't know what to do anymore.

Her shoulders shook as another frustrated sob wracked her slight frame, the last heated words he had hurled at her ringing in her ears. Why did Ron constantly think that he was some charity case she had pompously taken under her wing? After five years, didn't he have a clue about how she felt about him? Why was he making this so difficult? He knew--he had to know. She had asked him out, for goodness sake. She didn't ask out all the boys in school: she had only wanted him. It had always been only him. Hermione leaned back against the tree trunk, waiting for the final tearstain to dry so she could return to the castle. Why did it have to be only him?

Without a single answer to her questions, Hermione slowly got up, taking a minute to stare out at the placid lake in hopes of being lulled into a sense of serenity. She wasn't. She didn't think she was ever going to understand Ron or understand why she was in love with him or fully know what to do around him. Even if the fates were kind and the stars aligned and her wildest, deepest fantasy came true, Hermione didn't think she would ever fully understand Ron. But she was ready to spend a lifetime trying.

It took her longer than usual to make her way into the castle. She really didn't want to go back in, but it really wasn't safe to be out here alone for too long. Although she had the utmost faith in the defenses Dumbledore had erected, she wasn't taking any chances. Dawdling as much as possible, Hermione continued to try to think of some way to make things right with Ron--she was so tired of fighting. She rather wished she could just fall into bed, sleep for days, and wake up to find a joking, light-hearted Ron waiting to take her to Slughorn's party in his new dress robes.

"Dilligrout," she said dully to the Fat Lady. Even she knew not to pry and the Fat Lady just wordlessly swung open to admit Hermione into the rousing party that was raging away. It was hard to believe that so many people could be so carefree and happy when she had just been inches away from crying her eyes out. With the throng of people, Hermione didn't expect to find her friends straight away, but somehow, instinctively, her eyes went straight to Ron.

Or what she could see of Ron. Not much of him was visible with Lavender meshed around him like a particularly ferocious stalk of Devil's Snare.

For a moment, Hermione seriously thought she was going to faint. But fainting required energy and Hermione suddenly had nothing left in her. She was nothing; she was completely numb and devoid of any feeling or coherent thought. There wasn't anything in her left. Ron had taken it all away from her. She wanted to scream or cry or shout or hex the writhing couple into oblivion, but her mind could only chant one thought over and over again: get out, get out, get out, get out of there...

With dumb obedience, Hermione's legs managed to turn and take her out of the portrait hole, into the hallway, and into the first empty classroom she came across. At that point she had to collapse onto the teacher's desk; the image of Ron kissing Lavender was flashing repeatedly in front of her in vivid detail. Lavender's right leg had hooked itself tightly around Ron's while her left had slid seductively between both of Ron's. Their chests had been smashed together so Ron could probably feel every asset that the well-endowed Lavender Brown was blessed with. Her left hand had been rubbing up and down Ron's back while her right hand was balled in a tight, yearning fist in Ron's hair. She didn't see where Ron's hands were stroking, but she could imagine where in her sickening imagination. And their mouths--God, their mouths. The first real crack of pain penetrated the icy numbness she had been floating in and without thinking, Hermione whipped out her wand and nonverbally conjured a flock of birds to whiz around her head. She had to do a spell or else she--well, she didn't want she'd do, but she was certain that crying would be involved. It didn't even look like a particularly good kiss--it was obvious that Ron wasn't skilled in the field--but why hadn't she been the one to receive it?

A quick patter of footsteps made Hermione look up toward the door in time to see Harry jogging into the doorway. He must have seen her retreat out of the common room and concerned, had followed her. That was really nice of him. Others should be as nice as Harry. Hermione exhaled deeply and struggled to speak normally, as if it was perfectly to normal to find her in an empty classroom on the verge of tears with birds circling her head. "Oh, hello, Harry," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."

Harry nodded, closed the door behind him, and stepped in closer to her, hands jammed awkwardly in his pockets. "Yeah...they're--er--really good..."

Hermione fought a shaky sigh. As kind as it was for Harry to come after her, he clearly had no idea what to do. There was really nothing he could say to make her feel better. He could put his arm around her and be a friend and let her cry, but Harry wouldn't know that was what she wanted. Ron had always been the one she cried to. Her chest heaved and Hermione knew she had to keep talking to keep from collapsing. She wished that she could talk about something less heart-wrenching, but there was only one thing on her mind. "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."

"Er...does he?" said Harry, lying so horribly that it was insulting that he thought he could get away with it.

"Don't pretend you didn't see him," said Hermione testily. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was--?"

At that exact moment, the fates decided that this horrible moment in Hermione's life wasn't nearly awful enough and snickered wickedly as the door burst open and Ron came in holding Lavender's hand. Clearly, he fancied the idea of continuing their thrashing in a more private location. Ron looked straight at Hermione's face and something like a shadow flickered across his face. "Oh." He drew up short as he looked over at Harry and back at Hermione. She held his gaze unflinching, not bothering to hide the tears in her eyes. He deserved to see how much he had devastated her.

"Oops!" said Lavender. She also shot Hermione a look--this one of smug triumph--before letting out a shrill giggle and backing out of the room. The door closed behind her. Lavender must sense that the three friends needed a moment alone: Ron and Hermione needed to have it out while Harry needed to be their in case blood was shed.

There was a long silence that sucked away Hermione's soul. Ron no longer would meet her eye out of pure cowardice. He knew how much this was killing her, but he just didn't care. Harry stoutly wouldn't say a word as he looked with trepidation back and forth between them. Finally, not being able to stand it any longer, Ron looked over at Harry and said with an odd mixture of bravado and awkwardness, "Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got to!"

I'm surprised you could wonder anything with that tongue down your throat, Hermione thought nastily, but she only slid off the desk quietly, her birds still twittering and circling her head. She was going to get through this with a bit of dignity. She was going to act like an adult even if Ron was acting like a complete idiot. She would not compromise herself for him. "You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone."

She walked very slowly and erectly towards the door, with her head high and her heart screaming for Ron to call out to her, tell her to stop, say he was sorry, yell at her, or just do something to show that he at least recognized that he had wrecked whatever beautiful thing had been blossoming between them. But he remained silent, probably mentally congratulating himself for getting off so easily. Hermione stopped at the door, grabbing the doorframe to keep herself upright. Somehow, it was incredibly difficult to put two feet in front of the other. It literally felt like she was dying--Ron was slowly and surely killing her--and he was going to snog some twit. He was getting off easily. Much too easily.

Red, swirling rage billowed deeply inside of her, a rage Hermione had never knew before. It took over all of her senses, ordering her to whip out her wand and aim it straight at Ron's unsuspecting face. The hell with dignity.

"Oppungno!"

Upon her command, the birds she had conjured obediently sped towards Ron, intent to disfigure and destroy their target. "Gerremoffme!" Ron yelled as he yelped with pain as the birds nipped at his flesh. He quickly covered his face with his hands to protect himself, but then they just started in on his fingers. Hermione expected to feel satisfied to see Ron in pain, perhaps as much pain as she was in, but she wasn't. Another stab assaulted her ribcage. She had actually hurt Ron. She never hurt anyone so purposefully, especially someone that she cared for so dearly. What had he done to her?

A deep, jerking sob shuddered through her. She couldn't hold it in any longer. Giving Ron one last withering look, she wrenched the door open and escaped back in the corridor. She was already crying before the door slammed shut. Lavender stared at her with wide eyes, a trace of honest concern creeping past the ha-I-won-the-boy-not-you look she had been giving Hermione earlier.

Before Lavender could apologize or say anything, Hermione pointed a shaking hand towards the door. "Ron will be out in just a minute," she said through her trembling lips and coursing tears. Lavender jumped when she heard Ron let out a particularly loud yelp. "He just has some things to tend to."

Hermione pushed past Lavender, stalking hastily past the portrait hole and striding down the hall. She considered honestly worrying about Ron, but if Harry was there, he would know what to do. Ron would be fine. She on the other hand--Hermione picked up her step as she folded her arms over her stomach to keep her balance as the sobs threatened to force her to fall to the floor. She couldn't worry about stupid Ron. She had an important job to do: she had to find the perfect place to finally lay her head down and on this rare occasion, blubber.