Hermione Granger and the Half-Blood Prince

Do you think you can cope?

You figured me out

That I'm lost and I'm hopeless

I'm bleeding and broken though I've never spoken

I've come undone

In this mad season

And now I'm crying, isn't that you want?

And I'm trying to live my life on my own but I won't

At times I do believe that I am strong

So someone tell me why, why, why

Do I feel stupid?

And I've come undone...

"Mad Season" Matchbox 20

**

The war against Voldemort wasn't the only war undergoing in the magical world that December. The war between Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had just begun and in some ways, it was infinitely more vicious.

After the row in the prefect meeting, all of the rules that Hermione and Ron had written were thrown out the window. There weren't any rules now. Any sly, underhanded, devious way to express their disdain was allowed; the only trick was not to get caught, especially by Harry or Ginny. Harry and Ginny were taking the news of Hermione and Ron's fallout almost as badly as Ron and Hermione themselves; they wouldn't take it too well to hear that the former best friends were now partaking in open warfare against each other.

So Ron would skip out on patrol on purpose. Hermione would openly laugh at Ron's disastrous first-attempts to master a charm in class. Ron--who had at first told Lavender to leave Hermione be--revoked his statement so Hermione was no longer safe in her own dormitory as Lavender was still convinced that Hermione was ready to slip a love potion to Ron at any moment. Hermione would shoot a Trip jinx under the table at him so he would stumble in front of a teacher or Slytherins. Ron would snog Lavender in clear sight of Hermione. Hermione "conveniently" left an old letter from Viktor--from when he was still in love with her--out in the open, walked away when she was certain that Ron was watching, and returned to predictably find that the letter had vanished. Ron would do this, Hermione would that...the list went on and on and nobody was the wiser about the secret war that was raging between the two formerly best friends.

This continuous combat lasted for a few weeks, zapping Hermione's energy and good humor but her resolve remained steadfast. She was not caving in and crying all the time as she had all last month. It was time she finally took some action and let Ron know how big of a prat he really was, especially since he was still going around with the biggest, dumbest smile on his face. Perhaps every time she sent him a spiteful glare, he went off to snog his frustration away.

Hermione folded her arms over her chest as she gritted her teeth and made a quick detour. She had been on her way to study in the library--even though the rules were void, she still refused to sit in the common room--but decided that she needed to splash some cool water on her face. Her eyes were prickling and once again, the thought of Ron made her feel a little sick to her stomach.

Hermione started to shove the door to the girls' loo open, but a high, nasal voice made her pause and listen. Romilda Vane. Hermione wrinkled her nose. She didn't particularly like that girl. Romilda had repeatedly asked her very pointed questions about her and Harry's relationship to make sure that Hermione didn't secretly shag Harry on a regular basis. After Ron started dating Lavender, Romilda had eased up on Hermione as it became insanely obvious that Ron was the best friend that Hermione fancied. However, lately, Romilda had been asking much-too-casual questions about school policy about love potions and other spells that made Hermione very suspicious and decide that at this moment, eavesdropping, although unscrupulous, was necessary.

"So what kind of drink does he like? Does anybody know?"

"I think he drinks coffee in the morning--"

"No, hold on, let me get my chronicles." There was a rustle of pages as the girl fumbled to find the right page she was searching for.

"Is something to drink the best way to go? Won't he be suspicious?"

"He is ever so smart."

An assortment of sighs of all different pitches echoed throughout the bathroom.

"Okay, according to my records, in the past two weeks, he consistently drinks pumpkin juice at all meals. He only drank coffee one day at breakfast and that was the day he had those horrible bags under his eyes, probably due to lack of sleep as he had a massive essay due for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"But we don't really drink pumpkin juice in the evenings in the common room. Do you have any information about what he drinks at parties?"

"Hold on me, let me look."

"I still don't think we should put it in a drink."

"What else should we put it in?"

"What about food? He eats loads of candy."

"And still looks thin and gorgeous."

There was another long, dreamy collective sigh. Hermione rolled her eyes. Honestly.

"What kind of candy would we put it in?"

"He likes Cauldron Cakes, I think."

"Those would be easy to put it in--they're certainly big enough."

"Oh, I know what I'm going to use!"

"Oooo! What?"

"I'm not telling--remember we said every girl for herself on this mission."

"Okay, okay, I found it! At parties, he usually drinks butterbeer...likes to stay with the same sorts of things, doesn't he?"

"That means he's dependable."

Predictably, another chorus of sighs reverberated throughout the bathroom.

"Or maybe we could offer him some sort of drink or food that he hasn't had before; that way he wouldn't know if it tasted funny. Are those things tasteless?"

"I'm not sure."

"Does it say so on the box?"

"I dunno..."

Hermione counted to five in her head, thinking that it would give the girl plenty of time to pull the love potion from her pocket, and loudly banged open the door. To her surprise, there was no less than a dozen girls all crammed around the sinks. All flinched guiltily at the noise and cringed again when they recognized their sixth-year prefect with the strict adherence to all rules.

"Hello," Hermione said easily. She put her hands on her hips so her prefect's badge would be clearly visible. "What are we all up to?"

Almost all of them lowered their heads, abashed, but Romilda just stepped forward boldly, grinning at Hermione as though they were old friends from primary school. "Just talking," she said breezily. "Would you care to join us?"

"All right," Hermione agreed. "What are you talking about?"

"Harry." Romilda leaned against one of the sinks, feigning airiness. "He and I were talking the other day about our favorite things and I was trying to remember what his favorite drink was--what is it again?"

"Snargaluff juice," Hermione lied promptly.

The younger girls turned to each other, mouthing 'Snargaluff' to each other in hopes that the other would know what that beverage was and how to find it. Those who had taken N.E.W.T. Herbology however knew what Hermione was up to and gave her a scowl. "Come on, Hermione, just tell us!" one of them demanded point-blank.

"Are you trying to give Harry a love potion?" Hermione asked bluntly.

Romilda grinned. "No," she lied. She raised her arms so the pockets of her robes were exposed. "Would you like to search me?"

All of the other girls followed Romilda's lead, making Hermione suspect that the girls had left the potions in another safer location. Still, Hermione quickly searched all of the girls just in case, but found nothing. Hermione fought a sigh. There wasn't anything she could do. She couldn't go on hearsay; she had to actually catch the girls with the love potion in their hands before she could do anything. Feeling rather like she supposed an elder brother would, Hermione glared at Romilda. She couldn't do anything now, but she could do everything she could to prevent any of these girls from spiking Harry's drink.

"Fine," Hermione said shortly. "Just be careful," she warned. "Love potions are banned, punishable by detention and a hefty reduction of points."

"We know," Romilda said in a voice that clearly revealed that she could care less about house points and detentions. Hermione turned on heel and started to leave, but Romilda called her back. "Hermione?" She waited until the prefect had turned back towards her before continuing. "If I did happen to have some love potion, I'd be more than happy to share some with you." She smirked and took a step forward. "You know, for Ron."

The other girls sharply inhaled as one. They knew that Romilda was offering Hermione a deal just in case she got caught with love potion, but it also was a backhanded slap in the face. Romilda knew that Hermione looked down on them for being so obsessed--and borderline stalking--Harry, but Hermione just as obsessively thought about Ron. Even with her brains, Hermione was no better than the rest of them.

Hermione somehow maintained her composure, her eyes unswervingly resting on Romilda. "Just be careful," she repeated much more threateningly before striding out of the bathroom, slamming the door so hard that it shuddered, and stalking off to the library to meet Harry and unleash some of her fury by talking about the idiocy of Ron Weasley.

**

It didn't help. She had felt considerably light-hearted when she and Harry had left the library, debating about Madame Pince and Filch possibly fancying each other, but when she had walked into the common room and seen Ron and Lavender together in the same armchair, all good thoughts vanished. Ron had just won a battle.

Feeling faint and slightly ill again, Hermione went up to her room and fell into bed even at the early hour. Since the 'war' had begun, Hermione's hours had changed; to avoid moments such as the one that occurred when seeing Ron sucking Lavender's face like a vampire slurped up blood from its victim, she had taken to going to bed much earlier and waking up at an earlier hour so she could finish her homework without distractions. This method worked out rather well since it allowed Hermione to avoid both Ron and Lavender--Hermione always made sure she was out of the dormitory before Lavender woke up and in the Great Hall before Ron even came downstairs. It worked well although Hermione did feel miserable most of time; the war was certainly taking a toll on her.

Logically, she knew that the best way to set this right was not to rise to Ron's bait and end this silly game they had started playing. However, the next day in Transfiguration, when Ron attempted to change the color of his eyebrows and ended up with a handlebar mustache, Hermione couldn't not do something. Even if you wanted the war to end, you couldn't walk away from a battle that showed up on your front doorstep.

So Hermione imagined this ridiculous Ron with a stupid mustache snogging Lavender and burst out into unkind laughter. She wasn't even the only one who had laughed--Neville, Dean, and Malfoy all had laughed too and even Harry looked as though he was ready to laugh but restrained himself--but Ron's livid eyes had shot straight over at her. She had raised her eyebrows cockily at him before flawlessly changing her own eyebrows to a beautiful shade of periwinkle blue. Take that, she thought triumphantly at him. If he had been nice to her, she would have shown him what he did wrong--he had put the emphasis on the third syllable of the incantation rather than the fourth--but now he was on his own. Ha ha, she added mentally at him.

She didn't know why she felt particularly vindictive towards him today, but she could sense that he did too. Even when he had sat down at breakfast, many feet away from her, it was as though she could feel hot, pulsating waves of his irritation radiating off of him. There was going to be a major battle today; she could feel it in her bones. And that was just fine with her. Hermione twirled her wand and shot another look in Ron's direction. Bring it on, she thought snidely at him.

Ron however was paying no attention to her. He was commandeering Lavender and Parvati's attention by sitting down in his chair, shaking his head as though trying to push away long strands of invisible hair out of his eyes and forcing his eyes to open as wide as possible in mocking anticipation. He let out a girly sigh of annoyance as he with his index finger brushed aside a particularly stubborn imaginary curl out of his face and onto his left side. Hermione's hand automatically rose to push aside a particularly unruly strand out of her eyes. With her hair parted slightly on the side, Hermione had developed the habit of constantly pushing one stubborn curl that was determined to always get in her face. With her index finger. Her left index finger. She hadn't even realized she had that tendency until just now. Her ribs threatened to cave in. He was imitating her. He was imitating her really horribly well.

"Ooooh!!" Ron abruptly burst out in a high-pitched squeal of glee. He raised his hand high in the air, bouncing up and down in his chair in anticipation. Every muscle in his arm strained upwards as he waved desperately, repeating frenzied "ooo" and "pick me" over and over again while flapping his hand impatiently to keep the invisible bushy hair from getting in his mouth. Lavender and Parvati shrieked with laughter when they realized what he was doing, so Ron catered to their mirth by having one thick swatch of hair making its way into his mouth so he had to spit frantically to get the hair out so he could still answer the question, sounding like how Crookshanks gagged when he coughed up a hairball. As soon as he was finally free from the atrocities of frizzy hair, Ron pretended that Professor McGonagall had called on him and lowered his hand with precise formality, abruptly becoming utterly composed. "According to the text which I've read forty million times because I have nothing better to do, blablahblahblahblahblah," he rattled off at lightening fast speed with an insane amount of perky glee in his voice before sinking back into his chair with such relief that everyone would have thought that he had just had the best snog in his entire life. He waited until Lavender and Parvati's giggles had subsided before abruptly squealing again and starting the process all over again, as if McGonagall had asked another question.

Harry's hand was suddenly on her arm, spinning her away from Ron, Lavender, and Parvati and pulling her back over to their table. "Hey, can you give me a hand," Harry said quickly. He pointed to his face which was now adorned with one black eyebrow and one yellow eyebrow. "Why'd it do that?"

"You clearly got the incantation right," Hermione said shakily. It was amazing that she could be talking about ordinary things and yet feel like bursting out into tears. She visibly cringed when she heard Lavender let out a particularly loud screech of laughter. She gestured to Harry to try again. "Let's see your wand movement then."

Harry complied but Hermione barely saw or heard anything. She abruptly felt as though she was hurtled back in the times, back to the days when her hair was even frizzier than now and her teeth protruded out in such a way that earned her the nickname Big-Tooth. It was time when she had no friends--since Jeremy had moved away--and she was alone, still fighting doggedly to answer every question the teacher asked because no matter how much she teased for it, she was not going to stop learning. She had never felt so ugly and friendless as she had during that year of school--except for once. Hermione bit her lip in pained recollection. Just like that, it was five years ago, when she was sitting in Charms class, trying to help Ron with the Levitation Charm and he had repaid her by snickering with his friends behind her back, proclaiming that she was a nightmare and it was no wonder that she didn't have any friends. It was as though nothing had changed. Ron and she had come full circle and now they were right back where they started: they were two people who couldn't stand to be in the same room with each other.

Even so...Hermione bit her lip even harder. She had always wanted to be in the same room as Ron, even in the beginning. There had an undeniable attraction from beginning and as hard as she had tried to fight it, something had always pulled her back to Ron. She couldn't escape him. No matter how ferociously she fought, she was never going to win this war.

"Hermione?" Harry nudged her lightly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Hermione said automatically, blinking rapidly. "Um. I think you're jerking your wrist a little too much to the right. That's why only your right eyebrow changed. Try it again."

Harry began to flick his wand, but before he could continue, the bell rang, signaling their release. Thank God. Without a word, Hermione grabbed all of the stuff she could manage, not even bothering to pick up her schoolbag or retrieve the items that fell out of her hands, and ran out the door. Lavender's laughter still reverberated mockingly in her head as she stumbled down a flight of stairs and went straight for Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. The morose ghost emerged from her usual stall at the sound of the door banging open; no one ever came in here. "Oh," Myrtle said glumly as she recognized the bossy girl who had brewed a complicated potion in here several years ago. "It's you."

Furiously, Hermione threw all of her belongings onto the tiled floor as hard as she could. Now that she was alone, she didn't have to hold back any longer. "Get out," she ordered.

Myrtle gasped in outrage. "This is my U-bend!"

Hermione stooped down, seized her homework planner, and hurtled it with all of might straight as Myrtle's head, pretending that it was Ron's. "Get out!"

"Well!" Myrtle huffed. She let out a howl of fury, hurt that once again a heartless human had taken advantage of her, and dove back into her toilet to exit through the plumbing system. Hermione stalked over to retrieve her thrown book and when she knelt down to pick it up, she remained on the floor, burying her face in her hands. She had forgotten all about her homework planner.

She hadn't stayed huddled on the floor, crying--borderline blubbering--for very long until the door opened again. "Oh," a new voice said with mild surprise. Hermione wiped her eyes sloppily and hid her face. Great. Luna Lovegood was one of the last people she wanted to see right now. She actually didn't want to see anyone--well, maybe Ginny. "I thought you were Myrtle," Luna said idly as she remained by the door, her huge eyes flickering around the room to assess the situation. "You seemed to have dropped your things."

"I know," Hermione said crossly. She kept trying to wipe all of her tears off of her face, but they just kept sliding down with increasing vigor. With all the times she had cried over the past weeks, she would have thought she would have to be treated by Madame Pomfrey for severe dehydration. "Do you mind?" she asked while gesturing towards the door. Hermione really wanted to be alone for a few more minutes.

In her typical dreamy manner, Luna ignored her request and crouched down to pick up the belongings Hermione had flung. "You really shouldn't be throwing things in Myrtle's loo," Luna informed her. "Myrtle's already a bit sensitive. We wouldn't want to push her over the edge." Luna got back to her feet and crossed over to Hermione. Carefully, she set Hermione's books and other school supplies in a neat pile in front of her before settling down on the floor next to Hermione. "You look bit over the edge yourself. Is there anything I can do?"

Hermione considered just barking out a 'no' and stubbornly refusing to speak until Luna left. But Hermione didn't think Luna would; Luna seemed like the type to just quietly sit next to her, patiently waiting for her to talk. As strange as she was, Luna really was a remarkable girl. Hermione sniffed sharply and tried to answer, but a hateful snivel throttled her so she couldn't speak. Luna calmly put her arm around Hermione and patted her on the back while waiting for the sobs to dissipate. "It's that stupid Ron Weasley," Hermione finally choked out spitefully.

"Ah." Luna didn't say another word and continued to pat her soothingly.

Hermione once again furiously rubbed the heels of her hands over her eyes to get herself to stop crying. "Why do I have to like him so much?"

"Because in spite of everything, he's perfect for you," Luna said promptly, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. "He suits you." Luna nonchalantly rearranged Hermione's hair so it was out of her face. "I heard about him dating that blonde girl," she added, offhandedly changing the subject. Luna wrinkled her nose ever so slightly. "She's rather asinine, isn't she?"

Hermione smiled weakly. She always knew she liked Luna Lovegood. "Yes, she is."

Luna smiled back. "It'll turn out in the end," she predicted. "It always does." Luna nodded towards the door. "But not if you hide in here for the rest of your life."

With one final sniff, Hermione looked up at the door and nodded grimly. Although tears were still trickling out of the corners of her eyes, Hermione got to her feet. She wasn't hiding any longer. Luna resumed patting Hermione on the back as they left the bathroom. It was amazing how it could hurt to just to walk normally.

"Oh, hello, Harry," said Luna. "Did you know one of your eyebrows is bright yellow?"

Oh bugger. Hermione ducked her head away so Harry wouldn't see her crying. If he saw her cry, he would probably tell Ron. She wasn't going to hide from Ron any longer, but that didn't mean he could see her cry.

"Hi, Luna. Hermione, you left your stuff..." He held out her books, looking apprehensively at her. It was as though he expected her to break in half.

"Oh yes," said Hermione in a choked voice, taking her things and turning away quickly to hide the fact that she was wiping her eyes on her pencil case. "Thank you, Harry. Well, I'd better get going..." She hurried off, leaving Luna and Harry behind so she could finish wiping her eyes and collecting herself. By the time she reached the Gryffindor tower, her eyes were finally dry and her head was high. Okay, Ron, you won that round, she thought grimly. But the war's not over yet. All she needed was a plan. The next time she confronted Ron, she had to do something much more noticeable than trip him in the hallway or laugh at him when he messed up. She had to command his attention and keep it so he could learn what a prat he was being. She had to think of something.

To Hermione's surprise, she did only a few short minutes later, at the same time that she received a very useful ally. She went up to her dormitory to drop off her books and found Parvati sitting on her bed, waiting for someone. Hermione assumed that Parvati was waiting for Lavender to come out of the bathroom, but Parvati straightened up at the sight of Hermione. "There you are," Parvati greeted.

"Hi," Hermione returned warily as she went to her trunk. She still hadn't forgotten that Parvati had been laughing mercilessly at her only a few minutes earlier.

As if reading her mind, Parvati spoke up again, replaiting her hair nervously. "I'm sorry I laughed at you earlier."

Hermione looked over her shoulder. Parvati looked as though she really meant it. Besides, Parvati wasn't the one she was really angry with and it would be nice to have at least one roommate who liked her. "It's fine," Hermione reassured. She set her books carefully down in her trunk, paused to look at Bilius who had been relegated to the bottom of the trunk, and slammed the lid shut, preparing to make a quick exit.

But Parvati had gotten to her feet and stood in front of the door, her face set as if she was about to face some invincible foe. "I want to help."

"Excuse me?"

Parvati pulled her long thick braid over her shoulder so she could absently fiddle with it. "Look, I miss Lavender," she admitted. "She's always off snogging with Ron and when she isn't snogging him, she's talking about snogging him and frankly, it makes me want to vomit."

"Agreed," Hermione said with her arms folded over her chest to dissipate the writhing in her stomach from the mental image that had unfortunately popped up.

"And maybe she means well and I know she's my best friend and I know I'm supposed to support her with everything, but I think this is for the best because we all know that Ron doesn't really want to be with her." Parvati paused to get her breath and looked at Hermione steadily. "He wants you." Hermione shifted uncomfortably and tucked her hair out of her eyes. This was the second time that someone had said to her in the past half an hour that she and Ron belonged together. If they didn't stop, she was going to start to dream again and be right back where she was two years ago. "So you need to get him back," Parvati added steadily.

Hermione laughed once. Didn't Parvati know that if she had a way to get Ron back, she would have already done it? "How?"

"Easy," Parvati said simply. "If you want him to stop snogging other girls--" she shrugged matter-of-factly. "--you're going to have to do some snogging of your own."

"What?" Hermione shook her head vehemently. "I couldn't." She was not going to compromise her beliefs about boys and kissing just to make Ron jealous.

But Parvati would not be dissuaded so easily. She steered Hermione over to her bed and both girls sat on the mattress, facing each other. "Listen," Parvati said briskly, "you're not the only one who's been driven mad by watching those two thrash around all the time. If he sees you off with some other boy--especially if he hates that bloke--he'll be driven mad with jealousy, realize that it's not worth it, make up with you, and chuck Lavender." Parvati shook Hermione's arm pleadingly. "Come on, Hermione, Slughorn's party is tonight; it's perfect. Just get a date, make sure Ron knows about it, and you'll be dating by Christmas."

Of course. Hermione closed her eyes momentarily. Tonight was Slughorn's Christmas party. She had nearly forgotten with everything else that had been happening. That was the reason she and Ron were unconsciously so snippy towards each other today. Tonight would have been their first date. If Ron hadn't messed everything up, that is. All of her insides clenched and writhed as one churning mass of anger. There was that unidentifiable, uncontrollable rage again; the one that had spurned her to attack Ron with a flock of birds. Now that rage was urging her to once again attack, to make sure Ron understood what kind of pain he was inflicting by experiencing it himself. "What do I have to do?" Hermione said hollowly.

Parvati tucked her legs avidly underneath her. "Can you think of someone that Ron would absolutely hate to see you snog?"

Hermione smiled ruefully. Yes, she could. She just didn't think Viktor could get here from Bulgaria in time for the party. Hermione considered the other options for a moment before answering. "Yes."

"Who?"

Blushing slightly, Hermione looked down at her knees. "I was thinking about Cormac McLag--"

"Perfect. Ask him. He doesn't have a date as he's a pig," Parvati said immediately. "But I bet anything he says yes--I saw him drooling over you the other day." Hermione blinked: what? But Parvati had already continued outlining the plan. "Then go down to dinner and I'll come down with Lavender. Lavender of course--" She rolled her eyes melodramatically. "--will want to sit with Ron so I'll be next to him--make sure you sit near enough to him so I can see you. I'll say hello to you, you'll ask me if I'm going to Slughorn's party, I'll say no, and ask you if you got a date and--" Parvati snapped her fingers triumphantly. "--Ron'll be ten shades of green with envy."

"Fine," Hermione said absently, a little dazed. Parvati had put more thought in this plan than she had in any of her assignments. It was amazing the amount of effort that was necessary to get a boy's attention.

Parvati slid off her bed. "Go ask Cormac. I'll see you in the Great Hall." Without another word, Parvati hurried out of the room, her long braid swishing determinedly behind her. Hermione followed at a slower pace. Her heart was thudding sickeningly in her chest at the thought of what she had to do. She didn't particularly fancy asking a boy out, especially one like Cormac McLaggen who had quite a reputation, but if it ended this mess--Hermione's step quickened so she entered the common room at almost a run. To her relief, McLaggen was standing near the fire, talking to two other seventh-years. Without thinking, Hermione strode straight over to McLaggen and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Can I have a word with you?" she asked briskly.

Hands up in a surrendering gesture, Cormac complied by stepping away a few feet from his friends. "I don't know anything about what happened to Longbottom!"

After spending years with the masters of deception--Fred and George--Hermione could see through a lie in a second. "What did you do to Neville?" she demanded immediately. Cormac opened his mouth to explain, but Hermione shook her head. She had to stay focused. "That's not why I'm here. I heard you don't have a date for Slughorn's party."

"That's right. I don't." McLaggen shoved his hands in his pockets and looked Hermione up and down. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I don't either," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Do you want to go together?" Her voice was brisk, impersonal, and anything but romantic, but Hermione could care less. She didn't want McLaggen to get the wrong idea about her intentions. No matter what Parvati had said, Hermione planned on getting through the evening without any snogging. Hopefully, Ron would be jealous enough by the mere idea of Hermione dating another boy.

Cormac looked back at his friends, waggling his eyebrows as if to say 'lookie-at-what-I-got'. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he asked Hermione. One of his friends glanced over at Hermione appraisingly. Hermione squirmed slightly as she was intently scrutinized solely on the basis of her looks. She rather felt like a show dog. She was ready to pop all three of the boys for ogling at her like she was a piece of meet, but she swallowed her pride when the one bloke nodded slightly. Apparently, Hermione had passed inspection. "Fine," Cormac agreed with a smirk. "I'll meet you here at eight."

"Sounds good," Hermione lied before pivoting on her heel and sailing out of the common room. Her brain was shouting away at her, demanding to know why she had just done this, but Hermione ignored it. She would only listen to the swelling fury that had taken control inside of her. She was past all reason. By whatever means possible, she had to get Ron back to normal before she went completely mad.

**

"--and this one time, I made this spectacular save by actually standing up on the broom--"

It was too late. Hermione had already been driven completely and totally mad.

She suppressed the urge to smash her hands over her ears to drown out his voice and stoically continued to think of other things. The first stage of Parvati's plan had worked brilliantly; the look on Ron's face as he actually stopped kissing Lavender to listen to her and Parvati had been priceless. Hermione had gone up to her dormitory to get ready, silently praying to find Pig at her window to inform her that Ron requested her presence downstairs. Hermione had also rather hoped Ginny would come see her too, but Parvati was the only person who came up, asking Hermione if she needed any help getting ready. She had tried to get Hermione to use some Sleekeazy Potion, but Hermione had refused. She was not going to get overly dressed up for Cormac McLaggen. Her dress robes, some light makeup, and her hair half pulled back allowed her to be perfectly presentable and that was adequate for the task. She just didn't have the energy to make herself drop-dead gorgeous; that feat took a lot of time.

Ron had been glaring at the door to her dormitory when she emerged. She had returned it before walking over to Cormac and greeting him with a sunnier smile than normal. He had told her she looked nice, she had thanked him, and off they went. Hermione had looked over her shoulder before exiting to give Ron one last chance to do something to convince her not to go, but he had resolutely plunked Lavender down onto his lap and promptly tried to swallow her face whole. He was really letting her go off and do this.

Slughorn had greeted them with his usual gusto and unctuous praise, beaming when he saw McLaggen's arm slung possessively around Hermione's shoulders. There was nothing he liked more than the idea of two of his brightest members getting together. Hermione had tried to join in the conversation, but her attention kept wandering as she either searched for Harry or Ginny or imagined what would happen if Ron came charging into the party to demand that McLaggen kept his filthy hands off of her. McLaggen then steered her around, idly greeting people while listing every single thing that had happened to him during his summer training with the Tornadoes and he really meant every little thing. If Hermione hadn't hated Quidditch before tonight, she certainly would have now. She thought that Harry and Ron talked about the sport too much, but good God, McLaggen just wouldn't shut up about it ever. Hermione fought the urge to ask McLaggen if he was so talented, why hadn't he made the Quidditch team and stubbornly forced herself to think about other things besides wanting to punch McLaggen and Ron Weasley. It was the only way she would be able to get through this night with a little bit of dignity.

"--well, would you look at that?!"

Hermione blinked. She hadn't heard a word he said over the last ten minutes; she had been too intent on translating runes in her head. Ever since she had mistranslated 'partnership' and 'defense' on her O.W.L., she had redoubled her efforts in that class. That was an error that a third-year would make and she vowed she would never make a horrific error like that ever again. In fact, Hermione rather fancied the idea of heading off to the library to study Ancient Runes. She actually fancied the idea of being anywhere but here with him, but she wasn't going to dwell on it. If she was going to get through to Ron, she had to do this. Ron had certainly got her attention when he started snogging Lavender bloody Brown all over the place; now it was his turn to start noticing her.

Cormac had drawn aside one of the glittering gold curtains adorning the walls to reveal a small, secluded alcove with bookcases gouged into the walls. He stepped back, looking back to make sure none of the other party guests had noticed their discovery. "Shall we?" he suggested. Hermione stepped in eagerly to examine the leather spines of the multiple volumes stored in here; this was the most interesting thing that had happened all evening. She traced her fingers lovingly across the books as she skimmed the titles. It looked as those these were Slughorn's most revered books as well as the most potentially dangerous; most of these titles Hermione knew the Hogwarts library housed in the restricted section, meaning that students needed special permission. That must be why Slughorn had hidden this recess.

"Well, well, well," Cormac said, sounding ten times cockier than Ron ever had. He had joined Hermione inside the secret little area, but he wasn't looking at the books. He was pointing to something over their heads. Hermione followed his eyes: a spring of mistletoe was hanging directly above them. She suddenly felt as though she had swallowed an entire crateful of the mistletoe's notoriously poisonous berries. For once, Hermione absolutely despised the fact that the wizarding and Muggle worlds had the some of the same traditions.

Parvati's voice echoed tauntingly in her head: If you want him to stop snogging other girls, you're going to have to do some snogging of your own. She straightened up and forced a very strained smile. Ron wasn't here to witness the deed, but no doubt the rumors would soon spread. McLaggen did seem like the type to snog and tell. He probably snogged loads of girls and bragged about it to all of his mates. She squirmed slightly when McLaggen's hands fell onto her waist. Why was she here with him?

"Mistletoe," he informed her needlessly. His smirk was as wide as the Hogwarts lake. "Fancy that."

A small mirthless laugh barked out of the back of her throat, but it was abruptly cut off by a mouth covering hers and hands sliding gleefully up and down her dress robes so he could find the slight, womanly curves that had began to develop over the past year. Hermione squirmed again. So this was snogging. Fun. She supposed that this would be quite fun in normal circumstances--by all technical purposes, Cormac was rather good at it--but all she wanted to do was get as far away from him as humanly possible. He must have interpreted her struggles as an effort to get closer, so his hands eagerly moved to the small of her back to pull her towards him. Boldly, his fingers next attempted to travel lower and lower and that was when Hermione finally managed to push her hands on his chest and shove him as hard as he could.

"Whoa," she protested, keeping her voice light. She didn't feel like provoking him at the moment. McLaggen was way too big and neither Ron nor Harry were here to give her a hand. "Let's get back, shall we?"

But McLaggen had no intention of getting back any time soon. His large hands returned to her waist so he could hold her in place. Hermione kept her hands on his chest and arched her back so there was no way he could resume attempting to stick his tongue as far as possible down her gullet. "Come on," he urged. He nodded his head towards the crowded room of guests on the other side of the curtain, none of whom had any idea what was going on in the small, romantic alcove probably designed for this very reason. "No one's looking--it's just you and me."

One of his hands suddenly seized the back of her head so their lips could join fiercely again. Wriggling vainly again, Hermione tried to wrench free but it was no use; he had backed her up against the bookshelf. Since the back of her head was so tightly wedged between McLaggen's mouth and the bookcase, there was no way she could avoid the arduous lips and tongue invading her mouth and throat. Her hands came up to try to shove him backwards again, but he just kept pressing against her and he was so strong that she couldn't resist. For the first time, Hermione felt completely helpless. Physically, she was no match for McLaggen. Her stomach jolted for the first time with cold, actual fear. Just how far was McLaggen planning to go tonight? And what if she couldn't stop him? Mind reeling, Hermione doubled her efforts as her heart unconsciously screamed over and over again only one thought: Ron, help me.

But Hermione Granger wasn't the type of girl who waited for someone to come save her. She had to admit that she rather fancied Ron saving her sometimes, but she would never wait for it. She always relied on herself above all others. Lashing her leg as far back as she could, she kicked as hard as she could so the toe of her shoe satisfyingly nailed him square in the shin.

"Ow!" McLaggen grunted miserably as he reluctantly recoiled away from her. Hermione stepped hurriedly away from the bookshelf so she couldn't be pinned again. "What did you do that for?"

"I told you to stop!" Hermione snapped heatedly, eyes blazing with rage. Her shoulders were heaving from revolted exertion. She never wanted to get this close to McLaggen again. Her hand twitched towards her wand. She could get detention for it, but she was fully prepared to hex McLaggen senseless if he tried to touch her again.

Almost everyone who had a shred of common sense knew not to cross Hermione when she was like this. But McLaggen only shook his head, looking more aroused than ever. Apparently, he liked his girls to have a bit of spunk. He teasingly looked her up and down. "But you don't really want to stop, do you?"

Hermione just gaped. Did he really--how could--who did he think--what the devil--the daze finally cleared and she was able to complete a coherent question: why on earth had she come here to this stupid party with this stupid boy? "Excuse me," she said coldly.

Not even bothering to give him any sort of plausible explanation, Hermione stormed out of the tiny alcove and struggled to put as many people between her as Cormac as possible. It was rather crowded in here; maybe if she could just keep ducking behind people, she could avoid him for the rest of the night. Maybe she could even duck out early if the opportunity presented itself. Hermione slipped artfully between two of the Weird Sisters. Their presence of course reminded her of the Yule Ball and a certain Viktor Krum. She had unconsciously played one of those catty games girls played that night, using Viktor to arouse Ron's jealousy, and now here she was doing it again. She was no better than those giggling, simpering, silly twits she despised. What was the matter with her?

"Hermione!"

Blessed, beautiful relief swept through her. She had almost forgotten that Harry had been invited to the party too. "Harry! There you are, thank goodness!" She could stay with Harry the whole night; even Cormac wouldn't risk making an inappropriate pass at her in front of the 'Chosen One'. Hermione smiled warmly at Harry's date, who actually looked quite pretty in her silver robes. "Hi, Luna!"

Harry frowned as he looked closely at Hermione. "What's happened to you?"

Hermione felt her hair and winced. It felt like her hair was standing straight up; her hair clip must have fallen out when McLaggen had mauled her. She looked down at her robes and saw that they had fared no better; his fingers had caused the delicate velvet to wrinkle and crush, making her beautiful new robes look quite old and rumbled. She had to be quite a sight. "Oh, I've just escaped--I mean, I've just left Cormac," she amended.

She left it at that, hoping it would be enough. Harry had never particularly confided in her about Cho; she didn't think he would be comfortable hearing about her own romantic escapades, especially since she could tell he was a bit miffed at her for having the date in the first place. Harry however continued to look questioningly at her. With a sigh, she continued on. "Under the mistletoe."

There was a brief blast of brotherly concern in Harry's eyes, but it quickly transformed into stern reproach. "Serves you right for coming with him," he told her severely.

A smile threatened to break through. Sometimes, Harry unconsciously spoke in manner that was uncannily like her own lecture-voice, as Ron called it. It was nice to know that she had a bit of an impact on her best friend. Wondering if he would understand why she had really come with McLaggen even though he was a boy, Hermione tried to press her luck. "I thought he'd annoy Ron most," said Hermione dispassionately. "I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole--"

"You considered Smith?" said Harry, revolted.

"Yes, I did, and I'm starting to wish I'd chosen him, McLaggen makes Grawp look like a gentleman" Hermione replied easily. Harry still looked revolted, but he didn't understand just how sensitive of the subject Zacharias Smith was with Ron. Last year, she and Ron had had a blazing row thanks to Zacharias merely talking to her in the library. Ron clearly hated the bloke after what he had done to Fred and then, of course, for him being a complete bastard. He would have been furious if he learned Hermione was going here with him, especially after Smith's disgusting display as commentator for the Quidditch match. But then Ron's voice had echoed in her head, daring her to hook up with McLaggen. He had admitted that he really didn't want her going to the party with McLaggen and that had settled it for her. Zacharias was viewed as threat last year, but this year's threat was Cormac. She couldn't threaten Ron with an old threat. Well, Viktor Krum would forever and always be a viable option but long, intimate letters couldn't escort you to a party. Therefore, it had to be McLaggen.

She scowled. She really hated that it had to be McLaggen. In fact, she rather hated that she had come up with this ridiculous plan in the first place. Hermione let out a sigh and nodded over to the other side of the room. "Let's go this way, we'll be able to see him coming, he's so tall..." she suggested. The three of them made their way over to the other side of the room, scooping up goblets of mead on the way, realizing too late that Professor Trelawney was standing there alone. Fortunately, the Divination teacher had never paid much attention to Hermione after she had stormed out of her classroom in third-year, leaving Hermione free to scan the crowd of McLaggen's long limbs and wiry build. Cormac really was very tall; she should be able to see him from anywhere. Hermione repressed a sigh. She rather fancied tall boys--maybe that was why she had chosen McLaggen for her escort this evening.

Harry's hand was on her arm. Hermione blinked. He looked very serious about something. Stomach flipping, she wondered if he had learned something about Voldemort that he needed to tell her. "Let's get something straight. Are you planning to tell Ron that you interfered at Keeper tryouts?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. If she hadn't known that Harry was really, honestly worried about Ron, she would have terribly insulted. Both of them knew how fragile Ron's self-esteem was. Harry should know that she would never ever do anything to damage that, just like she knew Harry would never intentionally hurt Ron.

But after another moment of reflection, Hermione swallowed her anger. She, Harry, and Ron shared an extremely close, beautiful friendship. She knew that she would die for either of them in a heartbeat and as frightening as it was, she also knew they would do the same for her. They would protect each other with all of the strength and bravery they had. And that sometimes meant protecting one of them from the other. In a way, friends could be loads more threatening and dangerous than any enemy. Friends knew you to the bottom of your soul; friends knew how to hurt you so deeply and severely that you may never recover. Draco Malfoy could never hurt her that way, but both Ron and Harry could. Harry obviously recognized this power his friends exerted over each other as well and was just ensuring that she would never, intentionally or unintentionally, inflict that kind of pain on his best mate.

"Do you really think I'd stoop that low?" she asked him evenly.

Harry didn't avert his eyes from her face. Something sharp and biting flared up in her chest. He did think she would. "Hermione, if you can ask out McLaggen--"

"There's a difference," said Hermione with dignity. She wouldn't let Harry see how much his distrust hurt her. She was feeling guiltier than ever about going along with Parvati's stupid plan. Plainly, he thought that her dating McLaggen was as crushing to Ron as discovering that he only made the Quidditch team thanks to a well-placed curse. Had she really hurt Ron that much tonight? Pushing that disturbing though aside, she continued to placate Harry. "I've got no plans to tell Ron anything about what might, or might not, have happened at Keeper tryouts."

"Good," said Harry fervently. "Because he'll just fall apart again, and we'll lose the next match--"

"Quidditch!" said Hermione angrily. That was what this was about? Stupid Quidditch? Harry didn't care that Ron's ego nor did he care she was losing someone who could very well be the one boy she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with. He just cared that his star Keeper kept his head on straight. Before she knew it, angry, bitter words came pouring out her mouth. "Is that all boys care about? Cormac hasn't asked me one single question about myself, no, I've just been treated to 'A Hundred Great Saves Made by Cormac McLaggen' nonstop ever since--" With a stroke of luck, Hermione's eye happen to catch on his huge build loping dangerously close to her in the nick of time. "--oh no, here he comes!" she hissed before sneakily slipping through two guffawing witches. Unable to take the din anymore, she made a direct beeline to the door. This party was over.

She didn't know why she particularly enjoyed spending her time with boys. They only had one thing on their minds: sports. Well, no, she amended with a blush, they only had two things on their mind. They were ridiculous; all boys were, even the really good ones like Harry and Viktor. Then of course they were the not-so-good ones like Ron who was ridiculous on a regular basis. But the real problem was that even though Ron was ridiculous and thick-headed and obstinate, in her opinion, he was the best one. In some ways, he was the only one.

The Fat Lady attempted to elicit a description of the vampire Slughorn was rumored to have invited, but Hermione only gave the password in a terse voice that could even shut the Weasley twins up. The portrait hole swung open and Hermione hurried inside. She had to get up to her dormitory quickly just in case McLaggen had noticed her hasty departure and followed her. Once she was upstairs, she could lose herself in a book and focus on going home for the Christmas holidays.

Hermione froze when she spotted the very familiar swatch of red hair peeking out from above the back of someone's long blonde head. He was still going at it. As she had the night she had first seen Ron snogging Lavender, she suddenly felt as though she wanted to vomit and pass out at the same time. Other students in the common room who had been very purposely avoiding looking at the very demonstrative couple now looked back and forth between Ron and Hermione with new interest. Hermione and Ron had certainly rowed about petty, trivial things in front of an audience before; the curious Gryffindors probably all hoped that they could catch a glimpse of a more painfully personal topic for the imminent argument.

But they were going to be sorely disappointed. As they anticipated, Ron readily noticed the latest arrival into the common room and automatically twisted away from Lavender's over-zealous kisses. He frowned as he took in Hermione's rumpled robes, tousled hair, and unhappy frown. Ordinarily, he would have been extremely concerned and probably irate on her behalf, but the Ron who had been horribly hurt when Hermione had blatantly flaunted her date with McLaggen in front of him only chuckled. It was clear that he felt that she had received her just desserts for going to the party with such a bastard.

The bystanders eagerly turned to Hermione, expecting an outburst of some sort. Hermione however was too tired to comply with their wishes. Standing there, watching Ron yet again have a meaningless snog with Lavender, Hermione suddenly felt very old. She had witnessed this disgusting scene too many times over the past few weeks and she was sick of it. She was sick of Ron. She was sick of the way he was acting, she was sick of him hanging around with Lavender all of the time, and most of all, she was sick of the nauseated feeling she had been carrying around in the pit of her stomach ever since she had first seen the infamous couple snog. So without a word, she hastily crossed to the door to her dormitory and banged it shut behind her. Ron thankfully had the good sense to refrain from attacking Lavender with renewed vigor and glee until Hermione was safely gone.

Running as fast as she could, Hermione hurtled up the stairs and practically dived into the sanctity of her dormitory. Parvati mercifully was not there so Hermione was free to slam the door and violently change into her pajamas, purposely throwing her new dress robes onto the floor into an untidy heap. She repressed the urge to stomp childishly onto the pile of burgundy velvet and opted to instead collapse onto her bed with her hands pressed against her tired eyes. Hopefully, the imprint of Ron mashing his lips into Lavender would go away in time.

Eventually, her ragged breath subsided and Hermione felt well enough to lower her hands from her face and stare thoughtfully at the canopy of her bed. As much as she hated to admit it, Ron was the one. She knew it. She knew it somewhere deep inside of her, where only her most desperate, intimate desires dwelled. It was the only part of her free from the logic and reason she defined her life by and she reveled in that freedom. This secret part of her was so locked away even from herself that Hermione rarely glimpsed it unless it was trying to tell her something of dire importance. It had told her to go to Hogwarts and try being a witch, it told her to keep trying to be friends with that famous Harry Potter and his obnoxious red-haired friend even though they acted like prats sometimes, and it told her that despite everything, she undoubtedly belonged with Ron.

And there she was, purposely hurting him by running off with another boy, a boy she knew he loathed. It wasn't often that she hated herself, but at this moment, Hermione absolutely detested what she had become: a twit. Playing catty, vindictive games like she had wasn't going to help matters with Ron. She wasn't that type of girl so why was she acting like she was? Maybe she had hoped by acting like those brainless twits that Ron seemed to fancy, he would pick her instead of Lavender. But even if her harebrained scheme worked and Ron had rushed off, leaving Lavender behind to pull McLaggen off of Hermione and saving the day, it wouldn't be right. He would be picking her for the wrong reasons. He would be picking her because she had acted like a twit. He wouldn't be picking her for her. Hermione knew it may be stupid and idealistic and irrational, but she didn't care. This whole stupid plan to go out with McLaggen had felt deeply and horribly wrong from the very beginning and this just proved it. In a way, Ron and Harry were both right: she had gotten what she deserved.

Hermione instinctively jerked as the memory of his groping hands explored her backside. No one deserved to be mauled like that, she corrected herself angrily. It wasn't fair that boys like that thought they could get away with manhandling girls like that. She irrationally wondered how Ron would react if he heard about what had happened at the party. Absently, she twirled a lock of her hair as she allowed herself to daydream for a moment. She didn't let herself just dream very often and as awful as this evening was, Hermione felt she deserved it. If she couldn't have one good bloody date with Ron, she could at least dream about it.

The creak of slightly rusted hinges cruelly yanked Hermione away from her increasingly pleasant reverie. Lavender was slowly opening the door to the dormitory with one hand dreamily twirling her long mussed blonde hair, just as Hermione had a few moments earlier. Hermione couldn't help watching the gesture enviously. Ron's long fingers had caused Lavender's hair to be in such disarray. She had wondered for ages how it would feel to have Ron's hands in her slightly frizzy curls. For the thousandth time, her chest tightened at the unfairness of the situation. She had wanted Ron for almost three years while Lavender had wanted Ron for less than three months and Lavender was the one who got him in the end? It wasn't fair.

Her roommate looked at Hermione and smiled pleasantly although Hermione instinctively tensed. There was an underlying vindictiveness to Lavender's smile that told her that Hermione really didn't want to know why Lavender was so happy. Lavender flounced over her bed to collect her nightgown. "Thank you, Hermione," she said casually.

"For what?" Hermione asked warily.

"For coming in when you did," Lavender explained. She tossed the nightgown over her shoulder, crossed to the door to the bathroom, and paused to give Hermione another catty smile. "He was distracted before but after you came back--" she laid her hand on her chest, her fingers suggestively twitching downward to indicate just where Ron had touched her and letting out a little moan of orgasmic pleasure, "--it was the best snog ever."

Lavender disappeared through the bathroom door, leaving Hermione alone with burning eyes, shattered heart, and an abrupt new decision: this was the end of hers and Ron's war. She wasn't going to stoop this low ever again. She was just going to let Ron be and be done with it. Hermione collapsed back down onto her bed. Congratulations, Ron, she thought miserably. He had finally beaten her at something other than chess.