Hermione Granger and the Order of the Phoenix

And just when Hermione thought that she couldn't have a worse day, she did have one twenty-four hours later.

She didn't know what the worst part about the next day was--Ron's remark about her hats that she had worked ages on, Harry almost getting into a fight with Malfoy during Care of Magical Creatures, running into that idiot Luna Lovegood again, putting up with Harry's bitterness again, or spending the evening alone in the library since Harry was at detention and Ron...well, she didn't know where Ron had gone. He had just vanished after dinner, and she had looked in a few of their usual places, but he hadn't been there. She had finished all of her homework and returned to the common room to find neither one of her friends there. Ginny had tried to talk to her about Michael again, but Hermione just wasn't in the mood. She lingered for a few moments, hoping that one of them would show up, but when they hadn't, Hermione had just given up and gone up to her room to knit more hats and eventually go to sleep.

The next day didn't begin much better since Harry and Ron skipped breakfast and lunch to finish their homework. She had the insatiable urge to lecture them, but seeing the exhausted look on both of their faces, she had somehow managed to contain herself. And Harry was looking rather concerned about something--she at first thought it had to do with his detention, but he had told her it was just lines, which was quite an easy punishment, if you asked her.

Or so she thought.

She had just resolved to spend another evening without either one of her best friends when both of them came through the portrait hole together. Harry actually looked a little pale, and he hurried off to bed straight away. Ron was carrying his broom--why on earth did he have his broom--and he looked absolutely furious about something. His eyes scanned the room, and when he met her eyes, he jerked his head towards the portrait hole. Hermione quietly obeyed, and he led her to a deserted classroom, where he quickly banged the door shut.

"What's the matter?"

"It's that bitch Umbridge!" Ron burst out, his face bright red as he paced up and down the room.

"Language, Ron," Hermione said automatically. Although she did agree with his assessment of Umbridge, he shouldn't be speaking about her like that this loudly. She sat down at one of the desks. "What happened?"

Ron was so angry that he couldn't speak coherently for a few moments, and Hermione couldn't quite make out what he was saying.

"Ron, Ron, slow down," she said quickly, "I don't understand. What's going on?"

Ron took a deep breath and stop pacing, now standing directly in front of her. "All right," he said in a very controlled voice, "you know Harry's been doing lines for Umbridge?"

"Yes," Hermione prodded, "Go on."

"Well, he wasn't exactly telling us everything about his detention."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "You mean he's not doing lines?"

"Oh, he is," Ron spat out, "but not the normal kind. Unless you think it normal to have the words 'I will not tell lies' carved into the back of your hand."

"WHAT?"

Ron described what Harry had told him about his detention.

Hermione's breath was coming out in short, fast breaths. Who-the-hell--did--this--woman--think--she--WAS? She couldn't physically hurt a student; it was barbaric, it was twisted, it was evil, it was sick, it was wrong, very, very, very, very wrong...

"That--foul--awful..." Hermione trailed off, unable to articulate the rage she was feeling at this moment towards her professor. "THAT BITCH!" she finally burst out as she jumped out of her seat.

"Whoa, whoa!" Ron grabbed her arm to stop her progress. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To McGonagall," Hermione said, thinking it was rather obvious. "We have to report this."

But Ron shook his head. "We can't; I all ready tried to get him to talk to her, and he wouldn't. And you knew prefect procedure..."

"We can't go on hearsay; we have to witness it firsthand," Hermione admitted in defeat. She brightened though when she realized something. "But you saw the cut on his hand, right? That's evidence!"

"Hermione, we can't," Ron told her firmly. "Not unless Harry says it's okay. Do you really want him to yell at you for something else?"

Hermione closed her eyes, and let out a long breath. "No, I don't."

"Then just drop it for now," Ron continued, "maybe he'll come around."

She let out a short, sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, right, because Harry's not stubborn in the least!" She placed a hand against her forehead to smooth away a shock of her bushy hair, and let it rest against her temple for a few moments. She was getting a headache from all of this worrying. "Why does everything have to happen to him?" she whispered.

Ron didn't have an answer to this.

Hermione sighed. It looked like she was going to be falling asleep with the same thought she had had the past two nights.

**

Friday did go better than her first couple of days--Harry had actually told her about his detentions, which Hermione greatly appreciated. It meant that he still did trust her. She was rather worried about him, though, but fortunately, this was his last night. It still didn't seem right to her that Harry was refusing to do anything about this, but she didn't think it was the proper time to bring that up. Harry looked like he was barely hanging on; he was so behind with homework and so angry at everything. And Hermione wasn't keen to be at the end of his wrath again.

Harry went off to his last detention, and Hermione realized for the first time how pale and nervous Ron had increasingly looked all day. She finally cornered him and asked what was wrong.

"I--I'm going to try out for Keeper," Ron stammered, not looking at her. "Been practicing all week."

So that's where he had been!

"That's fantastic!" she exclaimed.

Ron glanced over at her, a grin playing at his lips. "Yeah?"

"Of course it is," she said with a smile. "I really hope you get it, Ron."

"Oh, I don't know," Ron said dismissively, "I'm not that good."

"You'll be fine," Hermione had the sudden urge to give him a hug, but she settled for crossing her arms across her chest, pretending that it was his arms hugging her at that moment. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Ron brushed past her and out of the common room. Hermione watched him go with rather mixed emotions. She was happy that Ron was trying out, he loved Quidditch and he deserved to be on the team. Not to mention it would help his self-esteem loads if he made it. And Harry would love to have his best friend playing with him. It worked out for everyone if Ron made it.

Well, almost everyone. Hermione sat down at an armchair by the fire, hating herself for being rather petty and selfish, but not being able to help it. The three of them always spend a lot of time together, and she loved that she had two best friends like Harry and Ron, even if Harry was acting like a prat at the moment. But there were those nights when Harry was at practice, when it was just her and Ron...it was those nights that Hermione secretly treasured most of all. It wasn't like they did anything special. They usually just studied, or rather, she'd lecture Ron; they'd talk about the latest mess they'd gotten themselves mixed up in, it was all very normal and ordinary.

But that was what was so wonderful about it. They acted like friends in these moments, best friends. Sometimes Hermione felt that Ron put on a show in front of their other friends, especially Harry, especially his friends who were boys...well, she was his only real friend that was a girl. It was in front of them that he teased her so mercilessly and they argued so heatedly. Well, she knew she shouldn't rise to his bait, but she could never help herself. He just made her so mad. But that was beside the point. The point was, when it was just her and Ron, she saw a different side of him. He was more serious, he actually sometimes talked about his feelings with her, and he would actually act his age at these moments. That's when she would see the glimpses of the man Ron was destined to become, and she really respected that man. The young Ron, the Ron she had to put up with now, he did make her laugh, and he always argued with her, and he caused those feelings to stir up from deep inside the pit of her stomach. But the older Ron, the mature Ron, he was the one she was half-in-love with.

And the other half of her was in love with the young Ron.

This was why she wanted to spend those moments with Ron alone--so she could see both sides of him.

Hermione leaned her head against the side of the armchair, her head feeling rather heavy and fuzzy from her melancholy thoughts. It probably didn't help that she had been staying up late worrying over everything, and she had used that time to knit some more hats for the elves. She was rather pleased that they were disappearing so rapidly, but she hadn't quite mastered the spell to knit them by magic, so she had used the sleepless hours to make several more. She had to help those poor house-elves free themselves somehow, but knitting did make her fingers ache and her eyes stung from straining to see the small stitches. Her gaze wandered over to the flickering flames of the fire, and she stared into the bright light.

Why did everything have to be such a mess?

"HERMIONE! I DID IT!"

Hermione hadn't even realized that she had been dozing off until she felt Ron's hands on her shoulders. "Wh--what?"

"Hermione, I'm the new Keeper!"

All weariness vanished as she threw her arms around his neck. "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!" she squealed.

Hermione barely had the chance to register that she, the most sensible girl in the year, had actually squealed. Ron was pulling away from her, getting up from the spot in front of her he had knelt down on and took her by the wrist.

She giggled as he led her over to where Fred and George were handing out goblets of butterbeer in congratulations for their little brother becoming the new Keeper. Ron couldn't stop grinning as others congratulated him, and didn't notice that he was slopping his drink all over his robes. Hermione laughed again as she took a long sip of her butterbeer. Even with everything that was going on, it was satisfying to know that Ron could still be this thrilled about something as trivial as making the Quidditch team. But it was important to him, and she was happy that it made him happy. Even if it didn't meant she lost some of their alone time together--she'd be sure she find a way to be with Ron alone. Who knows, maybe by spending time away from her, he'd realize...

"You okay, Hermione?" Fred asked, "you look a bit peaky."

Hermione nodded, but she couldn't stop a wide yawn from breaking out. Goodness, she was wearier than she thought; at least tomorrow as Saturday and she could get some sleep without worry about finishing her homework or getting to class. Ron was excitedly talking to Angelina and Alicia, so Hermione drifted back to her armchair. She plopped down into it, and leaned her head against the cushioned backrest. She wanted to stay awake for Ron; she knew he'd want to celebrate, and she wanted to be apart of it. But she couldn't seem to help her eyes from fluttering closed, her eyelids suddenly unbearably heavy...

Her eyelids flew open again when a schoolbag hit the ground with a loud thud.

"Oh, Harry, it's you...Good about Ron, isn't it?" She was surprised at how bleary her voice sounded, but she continued on anyway, blinking several time to dispel her weariness. "I'm just so--so--so tired," Hermione yawned widely. "I was up until one o'clock making more hats. They're disappearing like mad!"

"Great," Harry replied. It really sounded like he didn't give a damn about her house-elves, but she understood why as he described what had happened to him during detention.

Once again, Hermione forgot about her tiredness as she tried to convince Harry not to worry about his scar hurting and to go to Dumbledore. But once again, Harry was being so stubborn again, so she just ended up getting hurt and angry. He then tried to stick her with telling Ron that he was going to bed, but she refused. She was so tired that she could barely manage to stand up and make it up the stairs. She did catch Ron's eye as she stood at the girls' dormitory door and tilt her heads towards it. Ron looked like he was going to protest, but luckily, at this moment, she yawned again widely, and he just laughed and focused again on the scarlet Quidditch robes he was wearing. He looks really good in them, she thought dimly.

I really am exhausted, she told herself as she got ready to go to bed. She yawned again.

And then it hit her.

Fred and George handing her a goblet of butterbeer. The glance they had exchanged between the two of them. The first-years that had been gathered near them, awaiting their instructions.

Those bastards!

**

"I cannot believe you gave me a sleeping draft!" Hermione yelled.

"Would we do something like that," George asked with well-practiced innocence that Hermione saw straight through.

"Don't use that tone with me," Hermione snapped. "How dare you?!"

"We just thought you could use some rest," Fred chuckled. "Besides, you didn't want us testing products on first-years, you never said anything about fifth-years."

"Especially fifth-years who threaten to write to our mother," George jumped in.

"So I suppose this is your way of getting even?" Hermione shot back.

"Well, um," Fred pretended to think hard, "yeah!"

"I could report you for this!" Hermione threatened.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Fred replied slyly.

"Otherwise, who knows when you'll fall asleep?" George shrugged.

"Perhaps during Arithmancy?"

"Or Potions?"

"Or during some other important class?"

Both boys grinned widely at her.

"You're blackmailing me?" Hermione screeched. "I can't believe this!"

"Hermione, you're waking the dead," Ron rolled his eyes as he closed the door to the boys' stairwell behind him. He frowned slightly when he saw that she was yelling at his brothers. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly. "Let's get some breakfast."

Ron ignored her and leaned forward conspiratorially towards George. "What have you got on her?"

"Ron!" Hermione swatted him on his forearm.

George grinned at little brother. "Nothing too interesting. Just that Hermione learned also last night that Weasley Wheezy's have expanded to a mild, untraceable sleeping draught."

Ron's intrigue abruptly turned to anger "You drugged her?"

Fred shrugged. "Yeah."

Ron took a step toward both of his brothers, and they both realized how much taller Ron had become in the past couple of months. "Why?" he asked in a dangerously calm voice.

"Ron, forget it," she said under her breath, tugging on his sleeve. "Let's get out of here."

Once again, Ron acted like she wasn't even there and, much to her, Fred, and George's surprise, stabbed a finger squarely into Fred's chest, "Don't--ever--do--that--again," Ron hissed, "you hear me?"

"Ronnie, Ronnie, Ronnie," George sighed as he pushed his little brother's arm down impatiently. "Stop acting like a prefect, will you?"

"Yeah," Fred agreed as he stepped away from Ron, "we don't want another Percy on our hands."

"I'M NOT LIKE PERCY!" Ron erupted.

This was enough, Hermione thought exasperatedly as she sidled in between Ron and his brothers and roughly turned Ron away from them. "Calm down," she whispered hastily to him. She whirled back around to the twins. "And you two, clear out of here!"

George rolled his eyes. "Come on, Fred," he said begrudgingly, "I don't think Percy is the one rubbing off on him." He raised his eyebrow in a manner Hermione couldn't quite comprehend at her before disappearing through the portrait hole with his twin brother.

Hermione sighed and turned back to Ron. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ron muttered. He kicked the ground in his frustration, and Hermione waited patiently. She knew Ron would tell her what was eating at him in a moment. "I--I'm not Percy," he said under his breath defiantly.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, realizing how much this was really bothering him. Ever since he had been named a prefect, Ron had been saying over and over again how he was nothing like Percy. Fred and George must be really teasing him about being the next Percy, and after what Percy had done, frankly, who wouldn't blame Ron for being upset at the comparison.

"I know," she told him soothingly.

"He's a git," Ron said stubbornly.

"And you're not," Hermione agreed, "you're nothing like Percy--in fact, I don't think you're anything like any of your brothers." Ron raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. "I'm serious, you're special, you're unique, you--you're Ron,"

Much to her relief, he burst out into laughter. "Thanks, Hermione, I was starting to think I'm Neville Longbottom."

"You know what I mean!" she said a little on the irritated side. She was trying to pay him a compliment, and he still insisted on acting like an idiot.

"I do," Ron held up his hand in mock surrender, "and I said thank you!"

"Well, you're welcome!" she snapped back.

Ron grinned cheekily at her and pushed open the portrait hole. "Coming?" She rolled her eyes, but walked out of the common room while Ron held the door open for her. They walked in silence for a few moments, Ron starting to look a lot more pensive, which was unusual.

"He's a git," Ron repeated. Hermione gave him a sideways glance, and nodded. There was another long pause before Ron spoke up again in a quieter, less curt tone. "But I wish he'd come back."

"I know."

**

She might as well just entitle the weekend: Worry about Ron Weekend.

There had been the whole run-in with Fred and George before breakfast, then he had come back from Quidditch practice looking so miserable, and she knew he had been looking forward to it, and she had tried to make him feel better, but he had only snapped at her and run off. She knew that something must have happened, but Harry wouldn't tell her. Then they had tried to do their homework, but Harry and Ron seemed to make no headway since something was obviously bothering both of them, which bothered her, which made her have trouble finishing her homework.

Then on Sunday, Ron and Harry spent the entire day in the common room, trying to finish all the homework they had left piled up at the last minute. She hung around for a while in case they wanted to ask for help, but when they hadn't, and Ginny had invited her to go for a walk, she had agreed. It had been rather nice to get outdoors and talk to Ginny about trivial things, but her mind was really back in the common room with her two best friends. And then Ginny forced her back out on the grounds by completely changing the conversation.

"Hermione, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Hermione said absently, still debating if she should let Ron borrow her Astronomy notes.

"How much do you like my brother?"

Whoa, where did that come from?

Hermione shrugged awkwardly. She had never really expressed out loud how she felt about Ron. In all honesty, she wasn't really sure if she knew herself. All she did know was that he irritated her a lot. He could be really awful at times. Ron wouldn't stand up for her when she really needed it unless it was with someone they mutually hated. He teased her mercilessly. He was always quick to make assumptions. He never even noticed she was a girl until she practically told him. He rarely listened to her about studies. He chewed with his mouth open. He was obsessed with Quidditch. He was, well, he was such a boy. A stupid, insufferable, obnoxious, thickheaded, hotheaded, stubborn, sarcastic, impulsive, somewhat lazy, immature boy. He was awful.

But he was so wonderfully awful. Which made him adorable. Which made her want to tear her hair out with frustration whenever he made some sort of crack about her when all she wanted him to do was take her into his arms and kiss her. And he wasn't just plain awful, he was more things than that, much more. When he did manage to stand up for her, he did it so fantastically that she was tempted at times to just let him hit Malfoy so she could feel a thrill of pride creep up her spine. And as medieval as it was, Hermione loved the fact that she had a real-life, knight in shining armor in her life. He also was one of the few people who could cheer her up. He made her laugh like no other person ever had before. He had thrown up slugs on her behalf, he had suffered through two detentions because he had been defending her, gone into the Forbidden Forest and faced a giant spider so he could find out how to help her become un-Petrified, and occasionally hugged her and made her feel safe whenever she was upset. He acted like a prat most of the times, but it was the moments that he didn't that made it all worthwhile--those were the moments that her stomach jolted in that pleasant but nerve-wracking way, when her cheeks would color, her heart would start thudding in her chest...in short, her hormones went haywire, and no other boy had ever made her feel as excited at being alive and being a girl as Ron Weasley did. Life was always unpredictable with Ron, and she had to admit as much as she enjoyed structure and order, Ron made the unknown exciting. And he had a smile that could make her curse that girls had to be fully equipped with the sometimes embarrassing effects of teenage hormones.

Whatever that meant, Hermione had no idea. She also had no idea how to express all of this concisely to Ginny.

"I--I fancy him, Ginny, you know that," Hermione finally managed to get out with what she hoped was an indifferent shrug.

"Yeah, I do," Ginny agreed, eyes unusually serious. "But what I want to know is, do you love him?"

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hermione had the irrational urge to burst out into laughter. Love? She, love Ronald Weasley? She was only fifteen! Well, soon to be sixteen, she conceded, but that didn't matter! She couldn't! It was completely inconceivable that she fall in love so young. No one found their soul mate when they were eleven!

"Ginny, honestly, I'm only fifteen," Hermione said as an answer, brushing her hair out of her face. "I can't be falling in love so young, now can I?"

Her answer sounded hollow even to her, but she was going to dwell on it. It was the logical reply, and she was sticking to it.

"That's what I thought," Ginny looked around so no one would overhear them, and uncomfortably stuck her hands into her pockets. "Hermione, maybe you should just move on."

Hermione stared at her friend with dumbfounded shock. "Pardon?"

"Just hear me out," Ginny quickly continued, "I know that I was the first one to convince you go after Ron and everything, and you know that I think you two are meant for each other, but not yet." She sighed and stared out over the lake. "It just isn't time for you two. You're ready, but he's not, and I know how hard it is to just wait around for him to get a clue and wake up and see what an amazing person you are." Hermione had the feeling that Ginny was referring to personal experiences at the moment, but she didn't bring that up. "And I am so happy right now," Ginny smiled earnestly, "I never thought I could be this happy with Michael, but I am. I don't think this is going to turn into something really serious, but it's fun, and he makes me really happy, and I want you to have that too with someone. I would prefer it to be my prat of a brother, but since he's still oblivious, I want you to find someone else."

"What are you saying?" Hermione asked dumbly, although it was pretty obvious what Ginny wanted her to do.

"I want you to forget that you fancy Ron and move on with your life like I have," Ginny stated firmly.

Hermione was so overwhelmed that she didn't know what to say. Ginny's logic made perfect sense, and everyone knew that Hermione Granger always followed plausible logic. But it just seemed so wrong, she didn't why, something inside of her was just screaming out not to listen. But she really didn't want to live the rest of her life alone, waiting for Ron to wake up; that was no kind of life. But what was life with Ron?

"Look," Ginny patted her friend on the shoulder comfortingly. "Just think about it, okay?" Hermione nodded soundlessly, brow furrowed. "And don't think that I mean to move on because Ron isn't crazy about you," Ginny added, "because he is; I know he is. The problem is that he doesn't know it yet."

"Doesn't he?" Hermione whispered. "How could he not?" There was a lot of evidence pointing to Ron not feeling anything but friendship towards her, but there was also a lot saying that he did fancy her. He certainly seemed like he was ready to tell her something during their argument at Grimmauld Place.

"He's a boy, Hermione," Ginny giggled as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. She sobered as she thought of something. "Listen, your birthday is in the next couple of weeks, right?" Hermione nodded again. "Just wait until then before making a decision," she advised. "Boys can sometimes not say how they feel, but they can with their actions," Ginny said meaningfully. "He may not be able to tell you, but he might be able to show you."

Hermione had never thought it was possible to dread for a birthday until this moment.

Ginny glanced up at the sky. "We better get in, it's starting to get dark." Hermione nodded silently once again. "Just think about it, ok?" Ginny pressed.

Hermione nodded. "I promise."

**

Harry and Ron were still at it when she returned to the common room, so she had made sure to sit in plain sight while she knitted more socks for the house-elves and listened to Ginny chatter away about Michael Corner. Ginny seemed to sense that she didn't want to talk about their conversation at the lake, so she obligingly jabbered away about trivial things. And it worked; she had cheered up quite a bit but then Ginny went to sleep and Ron and Harry were still working. They hadn't finished by 11:30, and since she was rather tired, but she didn't want to go to bed when they could need her help, she wandered over to them, determined not to let Ginny's talk defer her from her duties as a best friend.

"Nearly done?" she asked hopefully.

"No," Ron replied in a curt tone.

Hermione chose to ignore it, and glanced down at his essay. His numerous mistakes leapt off of the page at her, and she quickly let him know what needed to be corrected. "Jupiter's biggest moon is Ganymede, not Callisto, and it's Io that's got the volcanoes."

"Thanks," snarled Ron, scratching out the offending sentences.

Hermione stared at him in surprise. He couldn't be pulling a Harry and taking everything out on her, she couldn't take it if she lost both of her best friends. "Sorry, I only..."

Ron glanced up at her, and it actually hurt to see the anger in his eyes, so Hermione quickly looked away. Her eyes went to the window, and to her surprise, a screech owl sat on the sill with his large eyes resting on Ron.

"Yeah, well, if you've just come over here to criticize..."

"Ron..."

"I haven't got time to listen to a sermon, all right, Hermione, I'm up to my neck in it here..."

"No--look!" Hermione pointed towards the window. "Isn't that Hermes?"

"Blimey, it is!" said Ron quietly, throwing down his quill and getting to his feet. "What's Percy writing to me for?"

Ron retrieved his letter and after her insistence, opened it. She watched him, feeling a lot better than she did a few minutes ago. Ron had just revealed to her the other day how much he wanted Percy to come back, and now maybe Percy finally got the large object he obviously had shoved up his bum removed, and come to his senses. Maybe the letter to Ron was the first step to reconciliation. She had to admit she had been more than a little shocked when she had heard about the fallout climaxing with Percy leaving home; the Weasleys were the one family that Hermione considered to be the most special since it was so strong and close. She hated that it was crumbling like this, all because the idiocy of one person.

That hopeful feeling faded, however, as she watched Ron's face become increasingly angrier with each passing second. By the time he had finished, his scowl was so deep that Hermione thought it could become permanently embedded into his face. Ron finally finished reading it, and tossed it over to her and Harry with a disgusted look on his face.

As Hermione read Percy's long, presumptuous, narrow-minded letter, her stomach twisted more and more painfully. She couldn't believe that Percy was saying these things. He had always been perfectly civil towards Harry, and she could tell that Percy really respected Harry for his accomplishments, and that Percy especially appreciated Harry saving Ginny's life from the Chamber of Secrets. And Hermione could live with Percy's behavior, if he wasn't trying to bring Ron to his side. It was one thing to have your own opinion, but it was another to try to manipulate your younger brother to a different way of thinking, and in Percy's case, a different choice of best friends.

When she finished, Hermione stared down at the letter for a long moment. She had no idea how to react to his. It was rather ridiculous, so they could just laugh it off. But it was also deadly serious, and needed some serious discussion. But Ron didn't look like he could cope with a long conversation about his older brother.

"Well," Harry said finally in a false hearty voice that Hermione saw through in an instant, "if you want to--er--what is it? Oh yeah--'sever ties' with me, I swear I won't get violent."

"Give it back," said Ron, holding out his hand. Harry handed him the letter with a confused, anxious expression that mirrored Hermione's sentiments at that moment precisely. "He is--the world's--biggest--git." Between each pause, Ron used the opportunity to tear up the letter into smaller pieces, and when he finished, he tossed the

pieces aside along with his discarded homework. "Come on, we've got to get this finished some time before dawn," he said briskly to Harry as he pulled his essay back toward him.

Hermione stared at Ron with a wide variety of emotions. She was shocked that Ron was blowing off his brother like that, sympathetic that Ron had to put up with this, amazed that he wasn't ranting and raving and actually attempting to finish his homework, angry that Percy had written this ridiculous drivel about Harry, frustrated, confused...she was feeling a lot of things at the moment. But the overwhelming feeling that was passing over her right now was that she wanted to do something for Ron right now. She knew he had to be hurting right now, and she had to do something to make it stop.

Her eyes rested on the essay Ron had started to write on, gazing at the footsteps Hermes had left in the middle of the parchment. He couldn't hand that in, he'd have to rewrite it, he'd be up half the night...

"Oh give them here," she said abruptly.

"What?" said Ron.

"Give them to me, I'll look through them and correct them," she said. Are you mad, the annoying voice at the back of her head demanded, you are a prefect.

And he is my best friend, Hermione shot back silently to the nagging voice of reason.

"Are you serious? Ah, Hermione, you're a lifesaver," said Ron, "what can I--?"

Hermione fought the urge to smile at his dumbfounded gratitude. "What you can say is, 'We promise we'll never leave our homework this late again,'" She held out her hands for both Harry and Ron's papers, who quickly unloaded them to her with equally grateful looks on their faces.

"Thanks a million, Hermione," said Harry weakly. He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. He looks tired, Hermione thought worriedly, I wonder if he's getting enough sleep. She sat down and started writing quickly, thinking back to what she had written for her essay five days ago, and rewording it so Professor Sinistra would never know that the brightest girl in fifth-year had really written Ron Weasley's paper. After rewriting Ron's conclusion, she then read through Harry's essay. His was fairly good, definitely an A by O.W.L standards, with only a few minor mistakes. It didn't take too long to move his essay up to at least E standards, and she pushed back her chair rather wearily. She fought the urge to rub her own eyes, but she had the feeling if she did, Harry or Ron might snap at her with the moods they were in. Honestly, she didn't know why she let them use her like this, and she never got as much as a thank you. She could be safe up in bed, fast asleep, and getting enough rest before another busy day, but no, she had to be doing their homework for them...

"Okay, write that down," Hermione said to Ron, pushing his essay and a sheet covered in her own writing back to Ron, "and then copy out this conclusion that I've written for you."

"Hermione, you are honestly the most wonderful person I've ever met," said Ron weakly.

Suddenly, copying someone's essay didn't seem like such a bad thing after all.

**

The brightness that had briefly illuminated her life at Ron's kind words (ok, she did realize that he had only said those wonderful things after she had wrote his homework for him, but still, for Ron, it was progress) had abruptly vanished with Sirius' arrival in the fireplace, and it still darkened her mood as she came down to breakfast the next morning. She was worried that Harry was keeping secrets from her even if it was something as trivial as writing Sirius a letter, she was irritated that Umbridge was not only an idiot who didn't know how to teach Defense properly but also a bigot against werewolves, she was annoyed that Sirius was still mistreating Kreacher, and very worried about where Hagrid had gone to. She had so many things on her mind that she wasn't surprised that she had forgotten about Percy's mention of an article in the Daily Prophet until she had flattened the newspaper and been assailed with the nauseating photograph of the one and only Dolores Umbridge.

She read the article aloud to Harry and Ron, and she briefly wondered if it was possible for a typically healthy fifteen-year old girl to develop an ulcer. She had never experienced so many shocks and fits of outrage in such a short span of time, and it was bound to take a physical toll on her. She had always taken stress rather well, but after third-year had proved, even she could succumb to it. And it was very plausible that she could succumb to it after reading this rubbish. Dolores Umbridge was now practically running the school? After her huge success? The only successful thing Umbridge had caused was a riot, Hermione thought bitterly as she finished reading aloud and looked up at Harry and Ron, who looked equally stunned and outraged.

"So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this 'Educational Decree' and forced her onto us! And now he's given her the power to inspect other teachers!" She was startled to find that she was quite flustered, out of breath, and her eyes were itching rather painfully as they often did before she cried. "I can't believe this. It's outrageous..."

"I know it is," Harry said glumly.

But for some stupid reason, Ron was grinning.

"What?" she demanded, slightly startled to find that Harry asked with her.

"Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," said Ron happily. "Umbridge won't know what hit her."

Hermione hurried the boys to their first class, History of Magic, keen to see if Professor Binns would be inspected today. Luckily, Binns escaped from the humiliation of inspection, giving Hermione time to almost mindless copy down what he was droning on about today and think. They couldn't let Umbridge get away with this, they just couldn't. But what could they do? Hermione bit her lip as she scrawled away at her parchment. There must be some way to get Umbridge sacked. She was rather startled that she was going to such extremes, but honestly, she had never had met a teacher she hated more than Dolores Umbridge, but then again, there never was a more hateful teacher than that toad. They needed to find a way to get her out, to catch her in a mistake, to catch her even breaking a law, then Dumbledore would have to sack her. But what? Umbridge was undoubtedly a law-abiding, Ministry-rule making individual, and Hermione didn't know how she could trick someone like that into making a large enough mistake that could cause her dismissal from Hogwarts.

Almost automatically, she glanced over at Harry and Ron to see if they were even trying to pay attention. They, of course, weren't, but for once Hermione didn't care. When she had looked over at Harry, her eyes had caught on his right hand, where she could see the faint white outline of 'I must not tell lies' carved into his skin. That form of punishment was disgusting, it was degrading...

It was probably illegal.

She stiffened up slightly. Surely professors weren't allowed to physically hurt their students any more, that was archaic, and Dumbledore wouldn't stand for a teacher hurting one of his students. He would have to sack her if he knew. If she could convince Harry to go to Dumbledore about his detentions--but then Hermione remembered how moody and snarly Harry had been acting recently. He hadn't even told her and Ron about his detentions straight away, and the flat tone he adopted whenever he spoke about Dumbledore showed that he wasn't exactly happy with Dumbledore at the moment. He would refuse to go, and all that Hermione would get was another tongue-lashing. And she couldn't go to Dumbledore about it; if a complaint was to be filed, it would have to be from Harry himself. Hermione sighed--no wonder Umbridge could get away with this method of punishment. The only people who typically got detentions were people like Harry, who would rather die than complain and let Umbridge know he was suffering. He, and the others who would be forced to undergo the same punishment, would stay silent, and not let Umbridge know she had won. They just had too much pride, and they would keep their mouth shut, even if it meant that Umbridge wouldn't get sacked.

Hermione fought the urge to slam her fists down on the table in frustration as she continued to take copious notes. She had some close to thinking a solution, if only she could complain on Harry's behalf...

Wait a moment.

Her quill paused in mid-sentence.

She couldn't complain on Harry's behalf...

...but she could complain on hers.

**

"...There will be no need to talk."

This is it, Hermione thought grimly as she resolutely raised her hand. She was rather nervous about putting herself on the line like this, but it had to be done. It was the only way she could think of, and after that article that was in the Prophet today, something had to be done to get this bitch out of their lives so they could actually learn some Defense this year. She felt Harry's eyes on her as she waited for Umbridge to notice her. At first she thought the DADA professor (if you could really call her one) was going to ignore her, but Umbridge walked purposely over to her and leaned forward so their faces were much too close together.

"What is it this time, Miss Granger?"

Umbridge was trying to keep her voice down so the class wouldn't be alerted to her questions, a trick that Hermione was not going to let her get away with. "I've already read chapter two," she said in a slightly louder voice than normal.

"Well then, proceed to chapter three."

"I've read that too. I've read the whole book."

And it was true. Hermione always read each of her course books before term started so she could get a foundation of the material they would be covering. Umbridge looked rather surprised, as most teachers often did when she revealed this fact.

"Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen."

Hermione fought the urge to smirk. This woman was actually trying to test her on course material? "He says that counterjinxes are improperly named. He says 'counterjinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable."

Professor Umbridge actually looked slightly impressed as she raised her eyebrows at her.

But that was about to change.

"But I disagree."

Umbridge reacted pretty much as she expected; her gaze became more frigid as her eyebrows rose even higher. Hermione knew that this woman would not like her textbooks questioned, and hopefully, that would lead to a detention.

"You disagree?"

"Yes, I do. Mr. Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively." Hermione unconsciously held her breath, awaiting Umbridge's reply. It wasn't like her to try to stir up trouble like this, and she just wanted to get it over with so she could concentrate on other things.

"Oh, you do, do you?" Professor Umbridge's voice got louder as she straightened up. She was getting angry. "Well, I'm afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."

"But..." Hermione began, finding it was becoming easier to pick an argument with this woman. It was idiotic that Umbridge actually thought that only one man's opinion could be valid in this field. They needed to discuss, analyze, and actually practice Slinkhard's methods of using defensive spells.

"That is enough," Umbridge interrupted. She walked back to the class and Hermione waited with anticipation. She had walked the same way when she had given Harry detention last class. Come on, she said silently in her head, do it, you know you want to, just say it.

"Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House."

Hermione's sigh was inaudible thanks to the outbreak of muttering that spread because of Umbridge's statement. It wasn't enough, she had to keep this rebellious act up. And mind you, it was quite easy, but she also didn't want to draw suspicion to the fact that she was trying to get a detention.

She opened her mouth to continue disagreeing, but Harry beat her to it. "What for?" he said angrily.

"Don't you get involved," Hermione whispered urgently to him. She couldn't have him getting a detention. One, Harry had already had one, and she didn't want him to suffer through the pain again, not to mention she'd cringe at the thought of what his disciplinarian record would look at the end of the term if he got a detention during every DADA class. And two, she couldn't be in detention with Umbridge if Harry was, and then her plan couldn't be put into action for another week.

Umbridge was giving some oily speech about Ministry methods that Hermione really wasn't paying that much attention to, she was too busy trying to think of another way to stir up trouble. But she really should have listened; it would have been simpler to cut into Umbridge's tirade.

That's after all what Harry did.

"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher," said Harry loudly, "there was just the minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."

Hermione groaned silently in her head. Now he's done it.

**

And Harry promptly did it again the very next day during Care of Magical Creatures class. Honestly, what was Harry thinking, constantly stirring up trouble like this? For someone who always insisted that trouble found him, he was certainly making it quite easy for trouble to come and bite him in the arse.

But she was now going to try a different approach with him. Instead of nagging him like she had been, she was going to help him. She stirred the solution she had just brewed with her wand with satisfaction: murtlap tentacles were extremely beneficial for aches and pains and she only hoped that they would help heal his cut. She certainly didn't like the fact that his injury had just healed itself only to be cut open again. It couldn't be healthy.

She had to do something about it. But what she could do, she didn't know. The detention idea had failed miserably, but she could try it again. Or maybe she was going about this the wrong way, maybe instead of trying to get rid of Umbridge, she should think of a way to work around Umbridge.

Hermione shook her head. Then again, things would be much better off if Umbridge was gone and out of their lives. That would be the best solution of all.

She carefully carried down the full bowl of potion down the stairwell without spilling any, and was rather surprised to find a lone person still in the common room.

"What are you still doing up?"

Ron looked up from his homework he was writing on. "Just finishing up this bit of Divination." He frowned when he caught sight of the bowl. "What's that?"

"Murtlap tentacles," she told him, "I thought it would help the pain for Harry."

"Oh, right on," said Ron, rolling up his parchment and tossing it into his bag at his feet. "You reckon he'll be back soon?"

Hermione glanced at her watch. "I certainly hope so; it's eleven-thirty."

"He's gotten in past midnight before," Ron reminded her. "Umbridge would keep you in there all night if she wanted to." He shook his head in disgust. "It's sick."

"She's sick," Hermione corrected angrily as she sat down at the table across the table from Ron, the bowl of murtlap tentacles between them. "It's revolting what she's doing to Harry; I wish he'd complain, and that might be able to solve all of our problems."

"How d'you mean?" Ron asked curiously.

Hermione hesitated before continuing on. "Think about it, Ron. If McGonagall or Dumbledore knew about this, that she was physically harming a student...we could maybe get her sacked."

A grin broke over Ron's face. "Blimey, you're right! All we have to do is get Harry to..."

"No, Ron," Hermione interrupted with a shake of her head. "It's no use. Harry didn't even tell us what she was doing to him. He won't tell anyone, and Umbridge knows it, it's what she wants. She wants to hold this over him, and she knows that Harry won't do a thing to stop her." She leaned back in her chair and sighed. "I mean, I've been trying to find an opening for days now to get Harry to say something to someone, but you know how he's been, and he won't listen to me, and it's the only way I can think of...what?"

Ron was studying her with an odd look, a look she didn't see on him very often: the expression he wore when he was figuring something rather complicated out all on his own. "You've had this idea for days, you said?"

"Yes, but what's that got to do with anything..."

"That's why you were all huffy when Harry got angry at you for agreeing with McGonagall; you wanted him to tell her..."

"I didn't get huffy!" Hermione protested. "I was right; Harry does need to learn to control his temper! I don't want him getting a detention every week, especially since if he's not going to say anything..."

"...you will?" Ron finished for her.

For some reason, Hermione felt very uncomfortable and she ran her finger nervously around the rim of the bowl in front of her. "You know I can't, Ron, it'd be hearsay..."

"No," Ron cut in, "but you could if you got detention." She could feel his eyes boring into her, but she determinedly kept her eyes on the bowl in front of her. "You picked that fight with Umbridge on Monday, didn't you? And that's why you're more huffy than usual with Harry..."

"I am not huffy!"

"...you were trying to get a detention!" Ron accused over her interjection. "So you could report it to McGonagall!"

Hermione thought that the day that Ron Weasley finally gained an ounce of perception, she'd jump for joy. But now all she wanted to do was hide under the table.

"Are you MAD!" Ron yelled. "You can't get a detention! You're a prefect!"

"Prefects can serve detention!" Hermione shot back. She knew that picking a row wouldn't help matters, but she felt less guilty for her if she was arguing with Ron. But why should she feel guilty, honestly? It was a good idea, and if it was for the greater good of the school, what did it matter if she suffered through a few nights of pain? She didn't have to answer to Ron, she could act as she pleased, thank you very much. But the guilt still didn't go away, so she plunged gratefully into the row, glad to have a distraction. "And besides, it's a good idea!"

"A good idea?" Ron echoed in disbelief. "Have you seen Harry this past week? Do you want that to be you?"

"Ron, not everything he's going through is about detention!" Hermione pointed out. "He's got a lot on his mind, and if the detentions stopped, he would be a lot better off, so if I got myself landed in detention..."

"You might as well kiss any hope of becoming Head Girl good-bye!" Ron shouted. "And I know you wouldn't want that!"

Hermione stared at him in surprise. She hadn't told anyone how badly she'd like to be named Head Girl. Ron Weasley really was a lot more perceptive than he let on.

"I'd be willing to sacrifice that," she replied in a much calmer tone of voice, "if it meant getting that foul woman out of our lives."

Ron studied her for a second. "I've got a better idea."

"Oh, really?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair again. She stared at him expectantly. "Well?"

"I'll get detention," Ron said gruffly. "It might get Fred and George back on my side anyway. Then I'll go to McGonagall."

Hermione considered--it was an idea, and it was just as good of one as she had thought up. But she couldn't let him go through with it, she didn't want him to have to endure the hours of torment that Harry was currently going through right now. She didn't want to have both of her best friends with scars on the back of their hands. It was easier for her to actually go through the experience and feel the pain herself than watch the people she cared for most suffer through it. She would never really know how badly it hurt since she knew Ron and Harry wouldn't reveal it to her lest she started crying or something. So she would only imagine how awful it was, and she'd probably imagine it to be quite worse than what it actually was. And she couldn't go through that with Ron--she didn't want him to have to go through the agony, she wouldn't be able to bear it if he did...

She opened her mouth, mind racking for a plausible reason not to go through with it. But Ron quietly spoke up before she could process a reasonable thought, looking her dead in the eye.

"See what I mean?"

Touché, she admitted to him in her head ruefully. She'd of course, never let him know she had thought that, and just nodded. "Fine," she relented, "it probably wouldn't have worked anyway. At the rate Harry's going, he would have jumped in again anyway."

Ron nodded. "Good. That's settled then."

Hermione shook her head. "No, it's not, Ron. We still got to do something about her."

"What? Poison?" Ron suggested hopefully.

Despite of the situation, Hermione smiled slightly. "No," She stared down at the table, concentrating. She was having real difficulty thinking of a way to get Umbridge sacked, so maybe that was the wrong way to go. Perhaps she should be thinking of a way they could in fact learn some Defense this year, around Umbridge, after classes or some time. Hermione straightened up slightly, considering the possibility. That was an interesting idea, having another, secret Defense class, that anyone could join who wanted to learn proper Defense. She was sure that loads of other students felt the same way as she did about Umbridge, the class would undoubtedly be a huge success. The only problem was that they needed a teacher...

It was at that precise moment that the portrait door swung open and Harry Potter entered the common room, his hand bandaged in a bloodstained scarf.

Of course!