Hermione Granger and the Order of the Phoenix

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

Hermione gritted her teeth in annoyance as Madame Pince stalked by her table, one of shoes squeaking irritatingly. She had loads of homework to finish, and the librarian's noisy footwear was not making matters any easier.

It also didn't help matters that she had another pressing concern on her mind. Another quick glance at her watch told her that Harry was currently on his way to his first Occlumency lesson, and she had a bad feeling about it. Harry wasn't happy at all about Dumbledore's insistence of the lessons from Snape, and if his temper got the best of him again, he could be in real trouble. Not to mention that everything Hermione had read about Occlumency mentioned how draining and potentially hazardous to the person's health the craft could be. But she knew it was for the best for Harry to be able to block his mind from Voldemort's attacks, so she would do everything in her power to make sure that Harry mastered the art.

But besides Snape's visit to Grimmauld Place and finding out about Neville's parents, the Christmas holidays had passed without major complications. Her parents had sent her a nice letter with her gifts saying that they didn't blame her for staying and they had a lovely time visiting the extended family, Fred and George hadn't tormented her too much, Harry had jumped down her throat in days, and Ron was...Hermione glanced over at her best friend. Sure enough, he had his chin propped up with one hand and his eyes were drooping shut. Ron was exactly the same as always.

Still it felt like something had changed between them. They had spent a lot of time together at Grimmauld Place, with Harry of course, but also on their own. Harry had taken to sleeping later than usual, so she and Ron would pass the time waiting for him to wake up together. They quarreled as always, but still something was different that Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on. She had started to notice how often she and Ron were watched when they were sitting alone together, especially by Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, and surprisingly Moody. She had pretty good idea why they were being scrutinized so intently, but she didn't want to dwell on it. Something was changing, and she didn't know if it would turn out the way she dreamed it would or not.

Ron was starting to snore so Hermione hastily jabbed him in the ribs. He jerked awake with an undignified snort, and looked about the room in disoriented confusion.

Yeah, Ron Weasley really is a dream come true.

"Ron, please!" Hermione scolded under her breath, tilting her head warning towards the Madame Pince, who was shooting a disgruntled glance their way. Ron muttered an apology while he straightened up in his seat and resumed scratching away on his parchment. She sighed while leaning back in her chair; she still had six inches to go and she for once was running out of material. She needed a new book. "I'll be back," she whispered. Ron nodded without even looking up, and Hermione fought the urge to swat him across the head. He could at least have the decency to look at her.

Hermione quietly wandered over the defense section and began carefully examining the spines of the thick texts.

"Hermione, hi,"

Hermione straightened up and her cheeks colored slightly. "Terry, hi," she returned.

"How was your holiday?" Terry Boot asked quietly.

"Good, really good," Hermione returned. "How about you?"

"Fine, just fine,"

There was an awkward pause. Hermione shifted from one foot to the other. She couldn't believe that she had once thought it was actually as easy to talk to Terry as it was to talk to Ron. She also now considered it ludicrous that she had even thought about going out with Terry in the first place.

"So, anyway, Hermione," Terry cleared his throat, "I was wondering if you would like to go into Hogsmeade with me."

Oh bugger.

"Oh, Terry, that's really sweet of you," Hermione began.

"...but you'd rather not," Terry finished for her.

Hermione let out a long breath. "I'm sorry," she said simply.

Terry shrugged one shoulder. "I figured this might happen."

"How did you know?" Hermione inquired.

"I am in Ravenclaw," Terry replied with a trace of pompousness. "I should have known better than go after one of Harry Potter's girls."

"Excuse me?" Hermione said sharply. "I am not anyone's girl."

"Of course not," Terry stumbled hastily, laying a placating hand on her arm. Hermione had the urge to pull away, but resisted. "I just--I--well, I guess I'm not so smart after all," he finally got out, lowering his eyes abashedly.

Terry reminded her so strongly of Ron at the moment that Hermione almost changed her mind right then and there. But then she remembered the tall redhead waiting for her at the table on the other side of the library, and she thought about the adorable way his ears would turn red, how his eyes lit up every time he smiled, how he wasn't attractive in the conventional way, but he was the only boy that she wouldn't mind watching and thinking about for her entire life. And it got much easier to pull away from Terry.

"You are smart," she contradicted. "It's nothing you did at all. You're a wonderful person, and if things were different, then I would go out with you in a heartbeat." Her eyes flitted unconsciously over to Ron's drooped head. It appeared as though he had fallen asleep again. Prat.

But she loved that prat.

"I really am sorry," she finished sincerely.

"It's fine," Terry shrugged again. "Don't worry about it."

"Thanks," Hermione nervously tucked some hair behind her ear. She really didn't know what else to say. She had never had to dump a boy before. "And of course I'd be happy to keep studying Arithmancy with you."

"I really didn't need the extra help with Arithmancy," Terry admitted sheepishly.

Hermione blushed brightly, and she ducked her head to hide it. "I figured," she said.

"See?" Terry grinned lopsidedly. "You really should have been sorted into Ravenclaw."

Hermione laughed quietly, and Terry joined in.

"Thanks," she repeated.

"My pleasure," Terry returned.

"Well," Hermione gestured vaguely towards her table, "I better get back."

"Me too," Terry also waved towards his seat. "I'm trying to get through that massive assignment Umbridge gave us."

"It's ridiculous," Hermione said with a nod. "I'm so grateful that we started D.A. otherwise this term would be completely useless."

"Well," Terry said after another awkward pause. "See you."

"Bye," Hermione scurried back to her chair and plunked down, heart beating rather quickly. She had known that it would have to happen, but now that it was over, she still felt poorly. She wished she hadn't hurt Terry's feelings like that. But it wasn't fair to lead him on; it was the same reason she had been so upfront with Viktor about their relationship. She didn't want to lead either of them on when she knew that she really had feelings for someone else. Sure, that someone else was a complete idiot, but he was her idiot. Hermione glanced over at him and gazed at him lovingly for a moment before promptly kicking him in the shins.

"Ouch!" Ron moaned as he jerked awake. Madame Pince instantly shushed them, and Ron scowled while leaning forward to rub his now sore leg. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"You shouldn't be asleep," Hermione hissed.

Ron gave her one last glare before obediently picking up his quill again and both he and Hermione resumed their work. Hermione managed to concentrate on her assignment for all of ten minutes before she heard someone take the seat opposite her and Ron. She knew who it was before even looking up.

"How did it go?" Hermione whispered, and then, looking concerned, "Are you all right, Harry?"

Harry didn't look well at all. He was pale, very pale; his cheeks were almost as white as Sir Nicholas. His scar was more livid than usual on his forehead which also was coated with a sweaty sheen. She had never seen Harry look so exhausted.

Harry was now telling them about all he had experienced during his Occlumency, and Hermione was trying to listen, she really was. She managed to think up a few theories, but all she could really focus on was how awful Harry looked. A part of her wanted to insist that he go straight to bed, but she had a sneaking suspicion that that would only get her snapped at.

Her anxiety peaked when Harry ran both his hands over his forehead as though trying to iron it. She stopped in mid-thought. "...Harry, are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah...fine..." he said, lowering his hands, which were trembling. "I just feel a bit...I don't like Occlumency much..."

"I expect anyone would feel shaky if they'd had their mind attacked over and over again," said Hermione sympathetically. "Look, let's go back to the common room; we'll be a bit more comfortable there..."

But the common room certainly wasn't more comfortable than the eerily silent library since Fred and George were being gits by showing off their stupid Headless Hats. It was a clever invention, she had to admit, but the yells weren't helping Harry a bit.

"I'm going to have to do this tomorrow," he muttered, pushing the books he had just taken out of his bag back inside.

"Well, write it in your homework planner then!" said Hermione encouragingly. She hoped that he couldn't tell how worried she was about him right now; it wouldn't help matters a bit. "So you don't forget!"

She realized while she watched Harry shuffled off to bed that those words probably weren't the best words of encouragement. She just didn't know what to say to him right now, and she just wanted him to feel better. He had had such a wonderful holiday, and now he had to endure this on top of dealing with Umbridge, Malfoy, and life with no Quidditch. She had read up on Occlumency and she knew the after-effects would be draining and painful at first, but she never imagined it would make Harry so ill. She bit her lip as Harry closed the door to the boys dormitory, looking as though he was about to vomit at any moment.

"Bloody hell," Ron remarked. He was also staring at the door his best friend had just shut. "He looks awful."

"Yes, I was worried about this," Hermione revealed in a faraway voice. "His defenses are going to be low right now since Professor Snape has been intruding his mind, but I never imagined he would look so awful." She turned to Ron, her eyes wide and round with apprehension. "Ron, could you..."

"I'm on it," Ron cut in. He hastily pushed back his chair and took off after Harry. Hermione tried to return to work while Ron vanished upstairs, but she just couldn't concentrate. She had a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was wrong, something was very wrong. But thank Merlin for Ron, she thought gratefully. He was exactly what Harry needed right now.

Ron barreled down the stairs a few minutes later, and his eyes met Hermione's from across the room. The butterflies in her stomach intensified; yes, something was definitely wrong. He didn't even have to jerk his head towards the portrait hole; Hermione was already on her feet and heading over to meet him. As an unspoken rule, he didn't say a word until they reached the empty classroom they had spoken in once before. Ron had given her bad news then, and she had a feeling that there was more to come now.

"He had another one of his vision things," Ron blurted out the moment he shut the door to the classroom.

"WHAT?" Hermione gasped. "So soon? What happened? Is he all right?"

"I--I think so," Ron answered tentatively. "He went straight to sleep. But, Hermione," Ron had to stop and swallow at this point, "he was laughing..."

"Laughing?" Hermione interjected with puzzlement.

"He said that You-Know-Who was really happy about something, something happened that he was waiting for," Ron relayed, fear etched all over his expressive face. "And Hermione, you didn't see him. He was laughing like mad; I had to hit him to get him to stop." He raked an anxious hand through his hair. "I was just glad that no one else was in there; Harry's got enough people thinking he's nutters."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, "but I'm more concerned about something else."

"What?"

Hermione met Ron's eyes. "Why on earth was Voldemort so happy?"

**

The front page of the Daily Prophet answered that question in an instant, but for once discovering the answer to a disconcerting question did not instill confidence and pleasure in Hermione. All that filled Hermione was the prickling stab of fear and nausea.

When Hermione Granger typically hears bad news, she usually is at first quite afraid and emotional. However, that fervor will always eventually dissolve into fierce determination to set matters straight in anyway possible.

This was why Hermione was currently running down the hall at top speed, her book-laden bag flopping painfully into her side. By the time she reached the Owlery, she was quite out of breath and she was certain that she was going to have a massive bruise on her hip, but that didn't matter. She flung the bag down, extracted a quill and parchment, and began scribbling away.

Dear Rita,

I'm sure you remember me, but here's a reminder just in case your beetle-sized brain cannot retain any knowledge. My name is Hermione Granger, the so-called scarlet woman who broke Harry Potter and Viktor Krum's hearts. You also spent a couple of days in a jar of mine, and you and I had a bit of a chat and reached an agreement, do you remember?

Well, I'm adding something to the terms of our arrangement. I need you to be at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade on February 14^th at noon to discuss further terms. I assume that you are well-aware of the damage I will cause if you fail to show up. Please send a reply to assure me that you received my owl and I'll be waiting for you in the Three Broomsticks on the 14^th.

Cheers,

Hermione Granger

Hermione sat back on her heels to hastily reread the letter. Perfect. Several school owls swooped down eagerly as she jammed the parchment into a spare envelope and addressed it. Pig was twittering excitedly in her ear, but she didn't think it would be wise to Pig without Ron's permission. She handed the letter off to one of the owls, and he soared away into the morning. The rest of the owls despondently returned to their perches except for Pig, who settled down on Hermione's shoulder and pecked her ear affectionately. Hermione absently stroked the tiny owl, a pensive expression on her face.

She just hoped that this would work.

**

"Where the hell did you run off to this morning?"

"Ron, please," Hermione begged with a roll of her eyes. "Do we have to talk about this now?"

"Yes," Ron insisted stubbornly, his voice echoing loudly down the corridor they were patrolling.

"If this worries you so much, why didn't you ask me sooner?" Hermione pointed out.

"I didn't want to bring it up in front of Harry because he has enough to worry about right now."

"Why would me running off worry him?" Hermione asked.

"Because you acted all batty!" Ron insisted. "I hate when you just get that weird look on your face and just take off!"

"It's called thinking, Ron, you might want to try it sometime," Hermione replied.

"Hermione!" Ron snapped, taking two long strides to block her path. "Just tell me!"

"Look, Ron, I don't want to say anything until I'm certain that this is going to work," Hermione explained. "I have an idea about how to improve Harry's image in the media, but it depends on some certain things, and I promise I'll tell you once I know everything, but not now, alright?"

Ron continued to eye her suspiciously. "Is that what you really did?"

"Of course it is," Hermione was slightly insulted that Ron didn't trust her. "What else would have done?"

Ron shrugged. "Seen a friend."

Hermione knew where Ron was going in an instant and he was lucky that she was so drained otherwise she might have started screaming at him. "Ron," she said with forced calm, her fist clenched at her side. "I'm not in the mood to deal with a jealous rage right now. So drop it."

Ron met her eyes, and she could tell that he was feeling the same things she was. They were both physically exhausted from all the bad news they had received today about the breakout, Bode's death, and Hagrid's probation, and their nerves were at a breaking point. So they of course were starting to snipe at each other; it was what they did, and they did it rather well. But for some reason, Hermione didn't want to get into a row with Ron; it wouldn't make her feel better. The only thing that Ron could really do for her right now is to just be a friend. Well, he could also act like more than a friend right now, and she would feel loads better, but she knew he wouldn't. Not now. At his current emotional state, he never would. But he had to grow up one day, and she was willing to wait until that day came.

But that wasn't the point, Hermione reminded herself as she shook her head slightly as if to clear her thoughts. The point was that she really didn't want to fight with Ron, and she could see that he really didn't either. They were just picking at each other out of pure habit.

Ron let out a long breath and stepped out of Hermione's way so they could continue patrolling. They didn't say another word throughout the rest of the patrol, but words weren't necessary. It was just like the time she had sat with Sirius during Harry's trial at the Ministry last August. They just took comfort in the fact the other was there, and wasn't going anywhere. Ron was really similar to Sirius, Hermione thought with a smile.

But what made her really smile was the realization that Ron for the first time hadn't denied that he had indeed been jealous.

Something was definitely changing between them.

**

Valentine's Day dawned coldly bright and when Hermione opened the window of the dormitory, a fresh breeze tickled her skin. Lavender and Parvati of course both snapped at her for opening a window in February, and Hermione quietly obeyed. She had just wanted to see what the weather was like to see what she should wear.

She had been thrilled that Harry had finally asked Cho out for multiple reasons. Harry needed to have something positive to happen to him right now, and a girlfriend was the perfect solution to that problem. But it also meant that she and Ron could be alone. She didn't know if anything would happen, of course, but she wanted to be prepared if something did. And as superficial as it was, she wanted to look nice for the occasion.

She pulled on the jumper Mrs. Weasley had knitted for her for Christmas and jeans before carefully plaiting the front portions of her hair so the wind wouldn't whip the curls into her face. Although it would be nice if Ron brushed her hair out of her face, Hermione mused as she critically tugged some hair free of the braids so a few stray curls hung strategically about her face. She ignored the fact that her roommates were watching her curiously; she usually didn't spend so much time in front of the mirror. Before they could ask any questions, Hermione hurried out of the dormitory.

"Good morning," Ginny greeted her on the way down. She looked her friend up and down. "You look nice."

"Thanks," Hermione returned with a smile. "Are you excited for your date with Michael?"

"No," Ginny said dejectedly. "I had to cancel. Angelina insists that we have Quidditch practice today."

Hermione halted on the steps, disappointment evident on her face. "So Ron can't go into Hogsmeade?"

"No," Ginny said sympathetically, realization flickering in her eyes as she took in Hermione's careful attire for the first time. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."

"Me too," Hermione replied sadly. She let out an impatient breath to blow one of the stray hairs out of her eyes. Now those damned curls just seemed annoying.

Fortunately, an owl rectified Valentine's Day for her. She knew instantly who it had to be from when it arrived, and she ripped open the envelope with bated breath.

I'll be there: 11:00, Three Broomsticks.

Rita

Well, now you have something to do in Hogsmeade while Harry's off with Cho and Ron's at stupid Quidditch practice, Hermione thought as she smiled grimly with pleasure. After making sure that Harry would be able to meet her at the pub, she hurried out of the Great Hall to reply to the owl, vaguely sensing Ron's eyes on her as she went.

She made it to the owlery in record time due to the fact that no heavy school satchel was hampering her progress this time.

Rita,

I'll be there, but if you remember, I said 12:00. See you then.

Hermione

Hermione handed the letter off to the first owl she saw. She would be at the Three Broomsticks at 11:00, of course, despite what she had told Rita. She just didn't want that awful woman to think that she could manipulate her like that. Besides, she had told Harry not to show up until 12:00, so Rita would still have to wait a bit, which would probably annoy her, which was always a lark. Hermione sighed at the thought of irritating the audacious reporter. For some reason, the idea of tormenting Rita Skeeter didn't please Hermione as much as usual. She supposed that after putting up with Umbridge for six months, Rita Skeeter didn't seem so vile.

Hermione took a deep breath before breaking out into a sprint once again. It was time for the second part of her plan.

**

"Luna, do you mind if I speak to you for a moment?"

"Of course," Luna replied in that awful dreamy voice of hers. "Excuse me," she said absently to the girl she was speaking to. The girl looked most relieved for an excuse to scurry back to her own group of friends and commence gossiping away about the odd conversation she must have had with Luna. Luna was oblivious to the girls mocking her, and focused directly on Hermione. "What can I do for you?"

When Hermione had first concocted this plan to publish Harry's account of what happened in the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, she didn't know what would be more difficult: seeing Rita Skeeter again or convincing Luna to convince her dad to publish the article. But now she knew; definitely dealing with the dingbat.

"First of all," Hermione began as the two girls began walking towards Hogsmeade, having passed Filch's inspection. "I want to apologize for my behavior at beginning of term. I really didn't mean what I said about your father's paper."

"Yes, you did," Luna replied breezily. "But it's fine."

"Well," Hermione continued hesitantly. "It's actually the Quibbler that I want to talk to you about. I was wondering how exactly one got an article published."

"You just send it in to Daddy," Luna replied. "Are you writing an article?"

"Heavens no!" Hermione said with a laugh. "But do you think your father would print Harry's account of what happened the night of the third task?"

Luna's luminous eyes widened. "Daddy would love to, I'm sure of it. I could send an owl to him if you like right now."

"That would be wonderful," Hermione said. "Listen, I'll be in the Three Broomsticks, could you meet me there when you get to town?"

"This won't take a minute," Luna extracted a quill and paper from the bag she had slung over her shoulder and scratched away for a few moments before putting two fingers in her mouth and producing an odd hooting sound. A gray, speckled owl fluttered down to her and snatched the letter out of her hand before flapping speedily away. "I'm ready now."

The two girls walked in silence, and Hermione fervently wished that anyone was walking along with them to fill the awkwardness. She just didn't know what to say to the girl; this was the girl who walked around with a wand behind her ear and who believed in all that rubbish her father printed. How was a sensible, logical girl like herself be expected to converse intelligently with Luna Lovegood?

"Why do you want Daddy to print your article?" Luna asked abruptly. "You hate the Quibbler."

"Well, your father likes to print more...fantastical stories," Hermione picked her words very carefully. "I don't think a well-respected paper like the Daily Prophet would pick up a story that contradicts everything they've been printing for the last seven months. Not that the Quibbler isn't a well-respected paper," she added hastily.

"You don't believe that," Luna replied.

Hermione studied the girl carefully. That was the second time in five minutes that Luna had sensed she was lying. Either she had become a very poor liar, or Luna was more perceptive than she let on.

"Well, no," she admitted, "I don't."

"You don't believe in things unless you see them," Luna continued on, her voice slowly losing the dreamy quality she was famous for. "Everything has to have an explanation and a reason for you to accept it."

"Well, yes," Hermione agreed, "I suppose so."

Luna shook her head sadly. "You're missing out."

"On what?" Hermione snorted in disbelief. "Trying to chase down the Crumple-Horned Snorkack? Yes, I do so enjoy tracking down creatures that don't exist."

Luna let out a long, painful sigh, as though Hermione's answer physically hurt her. "There are lots of things that you believe in that you can't see or measure."

"Like what?" Hermione scoffed.

"Love," Luna said simply.

Damn, the dingbat was right.

"Well, of course, I believe in love," Hermione tried to redeem herself, "but that's different."

"No," Luna continued serenely. "You can't see love; you feel it. And just because there's no logical explanation for why you love somebody, that doesn't mean it can't exist."

Hermione was starting to feel rather uncomfortable; Luna's eyes were boring into her in a strangely intense way.

"I would think you would understand," Luna pressed on. "You can't explain why you love Ronald, but you do."

"WHAT!" Hermione yelped, attracting several stares from students walking ahead of them. "You know about that!"

Luna stopped walking so she could look directly into Hermione's eyes. "I know lots of things," she said softly. "I know about things that you will never understand."

"But--but--I thought--you," The awkwardness between the two girls intensified as Hermione remembered her suspicions about Luna's sentiments towards the object of her affection.

"Me and Ronald?" Luna giggled. "Now that's a truly daft idea."

"But--but why do you flirt with him?" Hermione demanded.

Luna stopped walking again. "I know things, Hermione," she repeated, "I know loads of things. I've known about you and Ronald for ages, but I didn't know if you and Ronald knew about your feelings for each other." She shrugged. "So I decided to hurry things along. By flirting with Ronald, I managed to get you jealous, and him to realize that the only girl he wants to flirt with him is you."

Hermione never felt so awful. Here she was, snapping at Luna every chance she got, and Luna had been actually trying to help her and Ron get together. "Why would you do that?" Hermione asked with disbelief.

Luna hesitated for the first time. "I know things," she finally repeated.

"What kind of things?" Hermione pressed. An idea popped into her head and her eyes widened. "Luna, are you a Seer?"

Luna didn't reply, and started humming to herself, eyes now fastened on the thatched roofs of Hogsmeade. Hermione knew it was useless to pursue the matter. If she was a Seer, she certainly wouldn't tell the girl who had been rude to her for the entire term. But Hermione didn't really need an answer; she knew she was right. Luna had said it herself; she knew things, and Hermione had a feeling that Luna's knowledge about certain matters was going to come in handy one day.

**

Luna had received an owl from her father moments before Rita arrived, saying that they would be happy to print the article, so the meeting with Rita and Harry had gone splendidly. She couldn't wait to see the look on Umbridge's face when she saw the article printed; Luna had promised that her father would send copies to Hogwarts.

She was just sorry that Ron and Harry's day hadn't gone as well as hers had. Ron had looked utterly exhausted and depressed after coming in from Quidditch practice, and Harry had completely fouled up his date with Cho. Hermione knew that both of her best friends' problems were easily fixable, but she just didn't have a solution at the moment, besides writing a book about the mad things girls do, as Ron had suggested.

Well, better get started on Ron's problem, Hermione told herself. She and Ron were patrolling once again on the seventh floor, so there was no time like the present to give Ron a pep talk. He had remained rather quiet after his bath, and she knew he had to be kicking himself for playing horribly.

"Are you alright?" Hermione finally broke the silence.

"Yeah," Ron said thickly.

"Ron, look..."

"Hermione, I don't want to talk about Quidditch right now, alright?" Ron snapped.

All right, maybe this isn't the best time to solve Ron's problem.

"Okay," Hermione said quietly. She would have said more, but Ron had thrown out an arm to stop her progress down the hall.

"Did you hear something?"

Hermione frowned as she listened hard. Sure enough, they were some odd sounds coming from one of the classrooms.

"That's odd," Hermione noted, pointing towards the closed door. "Classrooms aren't normally locked at night."

Ron pulled out his wand. "Reckon we should get McGonagall?"

"Not yet," Hermione answered. "We should check to make sure something or someone is really in there." Ron nodded, and cautiously turned the doorknob. Locked. He stepped backwards expectantly, and Hermione knew exactly what he wanted her to do. She extracted her own wand from her robes and flicked her wrist expertly. "Alohomora!"

Ron resumed his position in front of the door, and motioned for Hermione to hang back. Hermione tightened her grip on her wand as Ron eased the door open silently so he could poke his head inside.

"Holy shit!"

"What? What is it?" Hermione jumped a foot at Ron's bellow, and instinctively darted towards the door to look. But Ron was too quick for her, and he slammed the door shut and pushed her back at the same time. "Ron! What was it?"

"Nothing," Ron's ears were flushed a vivid maroon and he grabbed Hermione by the wrist in an attempt to steer her away. "Let's keep going."

"That was not nothing!" Hermione insisted, trying to yank out of Ron's tight grip. "What the devil is going on!?"

"Settle down, Hermione, everything is fine," Fred soothed as he opened the door and leaned against the doorframe with his usual smirk. "Ronnie here's just a little embarrassed."

"Fred? What are you doing here?" Hermione demanded. Fred just grinned as he flatted down his strangely rumpled hair. Ron couldn't look at his brother and was turning an even deeper red.

"Hey, Hermione," Angelina Johnson emerged from the room as well, clasping her robes and also smoothing down her hair.

Oh!

Now it was Hermione's turn to blush. "I'm so sorry," she apologized, "I had no idea. We just heard noises, and..."

"Quite all right," Fred chirped, thumping Ron on the shoulder. "It was about time Ron learned all about the birds and the bees."

"Fred!" Ron moaned.

Fred grinned and wrapped his arm around Ron's shoulders. "Now, Ronnie, when a witch and a wizard love each other very much..."

"Fred!" Ron repeated, his face redder than his hair.

"Did you say love?" Angelina blurted out, jaw dropped.

Fred paled. "Oh shit."

"So are you in love with me, Fred Weasley," Angelina pressed, arms folded across her chest, a triumphant smile on her face. "Because I would hate for you to be telling your impressionable little brother one thing and doing another. You know I don't stand for hypocrisy."

Ron's face had turned back to normal, complete with a huge grin.

"Well?" Angelina urged. "Speak up, love!"

Fred let out a few incoherent gurgles.

"Well, when you have finally gotten your foot out of your mouth," Angelina continued, "I'll be waiting over there," she pointed down the hall to another empty classroom. "I assume you two have already searched that room?" Both Ron and Hermione nodded. "Good." Angelina sashayed off down the corridor and into the indicated room.

Fred watched her go with a surprisingly lovelorn look on his face. "She's wicked," he said under his breath.

"What was that?" Ron egged, jabbing him in the ribs gleefully.

"Nothing!" Fred jerked back into awarness and turned towards his little brother. "Now you two won't be telling anyone about this, will you," he wheedled. "You know that this sort of behavior happens all the time." He gestured towards the door next to the one he had emerged from. "That's Malfoy and Parkinson's spot."

"Eugh!" Ron moaned at the mental image that had unintentionally popped into his head. "Fred!"

Fred shrugged. "If you'll excuse me," he said with a regal sweep of his robes, "I have a lady waiting." He bounded down the hall and practically dived into the classroom Angelina had disappeared into.

Ron clapped both his hands over his eyes and moaned again. "I can't believe I caught my brother snogging!"

Hermione normally would have said something reassuring, but she was too busy processing what Fred had just told her. "Malfoy comes up here to snog?" she repeated before snapping her fingers in realization. "That's why he was here!"

"What? Malfoy's here?" Ron dropped his hands from his face and fumbled for his wand.

"No, no," Hermione corrected. "He was up here one time during patrol."

Ron's brow furrowed in thought. "I don't remember that."

"You weren't here," Hermione told him absently. "It was while your dad was hurt." Ron's brow contracted even more, and she quickly rushed to appease him. "It was nothing, really. I completely forgot it happened until just now."

"Did he call you that word?" Ron asked through gritted teeth.

"Yes," Hermione admitted, closing her eyes and steeling herself for an explosion.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ron demanded.

"Because it's wasn't worth it," Hermione replied, "I can handle a ferret like Malfoy myself, thank you very much."

The ferret imagery had a sobering affect on Ron, and he smiled at the memory of Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret, bounding down the corridor. She was glad that she had managed to calm him down; she didn't want Ron to get all macho and hell-bent to protect her from the big bad Draco Malfoy. If he wanted to protect her, that was just fine with her, but she wanted him to protect her from things that she needed help with. If she could handle the situation on her own, she planned on handling the situation on her own. That was the way she was; she had always been proud of her self-reliance. Besides, they had much bigger things to worry about. They couldn't be wasting time fretting over a prick like Malfoy.

"Come on," Hermione led the way down the corridor. She couldn't help also being relieved that Malfoy had come up here to snog, not to snoop around for the Room of Requirement. If he ever found out about that room and what it was used for...

"Pst! Lovebirds!"

Hermione and Ron both turned back towards Fred, who had stuck his head out of the classroom he and Angelina were using at the moment.

Fred jerked his head in the opposite direction. "There are some unused classrooms down the hall if you'd like to continue your prefect duties."

"Fred!" Ron and Hermione shrieked at the same time, both blushing deeply and avoiding each others eyes.

"Come on, you two," Fred continued with his wide, irritating smirk, "you do realize that people reckon you do that all the time."

"WHAT!" Hermione had never seen Ron turn such a vivid shade of red. "Who--what--when--why?" Hermione just stared at the ground, blushing bright pink. She wasn't about to open her mouth lest something revealing popped out of it.

Fred just stared pointedly at his little brother, all jest absent from his voice. "Just think about it, little brother."

"Fred, come back!" Angelina called from inside the room. "What are you doing?"

"Ah, duty calls," Fred wagged his eyebrows suggestively. He disappeared for a moment before popping back out. "Oh, and by the way," He paused to wait for Hermione and Ron to look up from the points on the floor they had been staring at.

"Happy Valentine's Day!"