Hermione Granger and the Time of Troubles

Harry Potter sometimes didn't understand his best friends at all. Correction, Harry Potter often didn't understand his best friends a single bit. He just didn't get it. They claimed to be best friends, yet they fought constantly. Hermione would scold Ron for not studying for his exams, yet she would always console him if he didn't perform well or congratulate him if he did. Ron would yell at Hermione for bothering him all the time, but whenever she heeded his requests to shut up, he would end up asking for help anyway. They called each other names, but if anyone else insulted the other, they promptly jumped down the offender's throat. They would throw fierce glares in the other's direction, but also give each other occasional, far-off funny looks that Harry didn't understand. They were just odd around each other; that was the only way to describe it.

Harry didn't really think about his best friends' unusual relationship often; he had enough troubles plaguing his thoughts. But there were times that he couldn't help wondering what the hell was up with them. This was one of those times.

The evening had started happily enough. Gryffindor had just won the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw in an outstanding victory. Ron had done rather well for himself considering that he had only let two goals sail past him. Harry himself had been feeling very good about his game since he had managed to catch the Snitch before Cho even noticed the tiny gold ball hovering behind Madame Hooch's ear. Sure, Madame Hooch had almost fallen off her broom when Harry had zoomed towards her, arm outstretched, but everything had managed to work out all right in the end. Hermione had seemed perfectly content with the victory, and had been happily chatting with Ginny when he and Ron had arrived at the celebration party.

But something must have gone wrong in the hour before it happened. Ron and Hermione had only talked briefly, where she had congratulated Ron on the match and he had thanked her. Ron had then become distracted when several of the fourth and fifth years, most of them girls, had become rather keen on discussing his fantastic Keeper skills. Ron only needed a little coaxing before going into a detailed, play-by-play of the match. He attracted quite a crowd, and Harry had stood off to the side, content to be out of the limelight for once. Harry had never noticed before how well Ron could command a group's attention; everyone was riveted to Ron even though they had just watched the match themselves a few hours earlier. Harry was starting to understand why Ron got so touchy sometimes about his belief that he, Harry, always had all the attention. Ron wanted the attention, and deserved the attention, while Harry didn't want it but always got it. Hermione had tried to tell him a hundred times, but it was only now that it began to sink in.

Speaking of Hermione, she had also been standing off to the side during Ron's tale, but she didn't look the slightest bit pleased with the sudden deluge of attention Ron was receiving. She at first had tried to ignore the loud group by talking quietly to Dean Thomas and Neville, but the two boys soon also became sucked into Ron's storytelling. She had reluctantly also listened to her friend, but for some reason, she was tapping her foot impatiently, clenching her fists, leaning against the wall in an attempt to act casual, and scowling fiercely. Ginny had gone over to her at one point, but Hermione had just shaken her head at her. Ginny had gone back to her seat by the fire, but she had shot Harry a confused look. He wondered if Ginny wanted him to say something to Hermione, but he really didn't know what to say; he didn't really know what was wrong.

Hermione's irritation had finally reached a breaking point when Ron, after sweeping his hair up artfully, waved his hands about in a wild imitation of the Ravenclaw's keeper. The entire crowd had burst out into loud laughter and Ron, grinning, got up to retrieve another butterbeer. Hermione had been standing near the refreshment table, and she was waiting for him as he approached. He looked at her with a bit of trepidation and concern, knowing that he had done something wrong but had no idea what.

"You need to keep the volume down, please," Hermione snapped. "Some students are trying to sleep."

Ron stared at her in shock, disbelief, and amusement. He made a grand show of looking about the packed common room, arms outstretched. "And who might these students be?"

Hermione looked ill at ease as everyone laughed again, enjoying the prefect's discomposure. This seemed to rattle Hermione even further. "I don't know exactly, I don't keep attendance on who has gone up to the dormitories or not!"

"Really?" Ron said sarcastically as he deftly opened his bottle.

"But I do know it's getting late, and you need to keep it down, please!" Hermione continued.

"All right, Hermione, of course we'll keep it down," Ron said in a voice that sounded convincing to the untrained ear, but that both Harry and Hermione knew was completely false.

Hermione folded her arms over her chest. "Because if you don't quiet down, I will be forced to report you to McGonagall. I'm not surprised she isn't on her way here already!"

"You wouldn't report me," Ron scoffed with a dismissive laugh.

"Oh, wouldn't I?" Hermione said in a dangerously quiet voice. Harry had no idea why Ron would even think that Hermione wouldn't report him; Hermione always followed the rules, everyone knew that.

Ron gaped at her for a moment before an understanding smile spread across his face. "Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, love," Ron soothed, picking up her hand so he could slap the recently opened bottle of butterbeer into her palm. "Here; drink this, you'll feel much better."

Laughter echoed in the room again, but Harry and Ginny didn't join in. They knew what was coming. Harry could practically see the rage seething inside of Hermione as she gripped the butterbeer very tightly and took three deliberate, deep breaths Hermione wasn't going to waste anytime in letting Ron know exactly what was wrong.

"Can I talk to you outside, please," Hermione said with a very forced, calm tone.

Harry sucked in his breath. This was bad; this was really bad. Hermione usually had no qualms about nagging Ron in front of people. She had to be really upset about something.

The confident expression on Ron's face faltered; he was just realizing for the first time that Hermione was really furious. "Yeah, okay." Ron lowered his voice to a more calming, sincere tone. "I'll be right back," he told his fans as he gestured towards the portrait hole, one hand instinctively going to the small of Hermione's back to guide her out.

Snickers erupted among the boys in the crowd as they nudged each other suggestively. Ron shot them a glare, but that didn't deter Natalie MacDonald, a very pretty third-year, from rising from her perch on the arm of the sofa so Ron could get a full view of her bright smile, wide eyes, and a chest that was rather mature for a thirteen-year-old.

"Come on, Ron, finish the story," Natalie wheedled. She strategically leaned against the sofa arm, arching her back carefully to show off her assets. Ron's eyes instinctively bugled at the great view, and both his ears and Hermione's cheeks flushed scarlet for two very different reasons. Harry saw Ginny's jaw drop in shock; Natalie wasn't usually so forward. But then again, she had drunk more than five butterbeers. "Hermione, you can wait, can't you?"

Ron had shaken himself from his daze and looked like he was about to protest, but Hermione answered before he could voice his opinion. "Yes, of course, Natalie," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "I wouldn't want to tear Ron away from his precious fan club. We can talk some other time."

"No, I want to talk now!" Ron said sharply.

"Well, now, I don't!" Hermione retorted.

"What is the matter with you?" Ron yelled.

"Ron--you--why--I..." Harry had never seen Hermione so flustered, and she stammered incoherently a few more times before looking about the room. Every eye was trained on her. "Just--just forget it! Just go! Go on--and--see if I care!"

"You should care," Ron returned angrily. "Aren't you happy for me at all? You finally watched me play Quidditch without making a fool of myself, and you've barely said two words to me all night, while they," He gestured emphatically to the crowd, "want to talk to me about the match. And I rather like that, I must say!"

"Do you?" Hermione asked meaningfully. "Do you really?"

Ron stared at Hermione as if she had grown two heads and told him she was dating Voldemort. "Yeah, I do like it," Ron shot back. "And you know what else I'd really like?!" Ron seized her wrist of the hand that clutched the butterbeer and jerked it upwards towards her face. "For you to just for once not criticize everything I do and just drink up!"

The loudest peal of laughter had only rang out for a few seconds before it ceased with Hermione's violent yank away from Ron so she was free to fling the full bottle of butterbeer onto the floor. The bottle shattered into a multitude of little shards due to the strength of the throw, and warm butterbeer flowed freely over the stone floor, staining Hermione's shoes and hem of her jeans.

There was a long silence in which Hermione defiantly glared at Ron, Ron gawked at the broken bottle at Hermione's feet, and every else in the room stared in open shock at the two friends. Everyone had of course witnessed a Ron-Hermione row, but not one had ever been this intense.

"Hermione!" Ron finally got out.

"Ron," Hermione interjected hurriedly, "you know what I would really like? Have you even thought about for a second about what I want?" She didn't wait for an answer, but just forged ahead. "What I would like is for you to stop acting like the arrogant prick that you've suddenly become ever since you finally got it through your thick skull that surprise, what I've been telling you all these years is actually true: you are smart, and talented, and an all-around good person that people love to be around! That person is supposed to be my best friend, not this asshole!" Hermione gestured at Ron with deep disgust. "And you know, Ron, one day, this lot is going to realize that you aren't the person they thought you were, and then where will you be?" Hermione laughed once bitterly. "Honestly, look at yourself, lording over the room as if you had saved the world instead of help win a stupid Quidditch match! You're becoming as bad as Malfoy!"

"Hey!" Ron exploded, face now beet red.

"You are!" Hermione pressed on. "You fuss with your hair almost as much as he does!" Harry could sense that several people wanted to laugh at Hermione's comment, but they didn't dare lest she turned her wrath to them. "Honestly, if I have to watch you sweep your hair up once more time, I think I may be ill." She laughed again in disbelief. Thinking you look so cool with your hair looking like it's all windswept. You make me sick!"

"Oh yeah?" Ron retorted. "So do you!"

"Good!" Hermione shouted back. "I'm glad we finally agree on something!" Harry wasn't surprised that she chose to storm over to the girls' dormitory and disappear up the stairwell rather than continue the conversation. From her bright eyes and labored breathing, Harry knew that she was only seconds away from bursting out into tears.

"Son of a bitch!" Ron roared after the door slammed shut behind her. He kicked furiously at some of the broken glass. Ginny silently stepped forward to clean up the mess with some quick flicks of her wand. Everyone else was too stunned to move.

"Wow," Lavender Brown said under her breath.

"I always knew she was mental," a fourth-year boy commented to his friend.

"Yeah, you know what they say about those, straight-laced, serious types..."

"Don't," Ron warned with such intensity that the two boys jumped and snapped their mouths shut instantly. He was staring at the closed door that led to the girls' dormitory, and Harry knew that if the chairs weren't charmed to prevent boys from climbing the stairwell, Ron would have charged up after her. Ron continued to seethe with ire as he stared, as if he was trying to will Hermione to return so they could finish the row. After a few minutes, Ron finally gave up, and stalked out of the portrait hole without a word to anyone else.

Conversations started springing up between small groups after Ron's departure, but Harry Potter didn't join in. He just stared off into space, processing what he had just witnessed. He hadn't realized that his two best friends were having such problems, but he had been rather distracted lately, with the war on and all. The words they had hurtled at each other had been rather spiteful, but there was one phrase that kept echoing in Harry's mind. Well, two phrases actually, but only one of them had been said tonight by Hermione. The other was a voice he had actually never heard first-hand, but was burned in his memory forever.

"Thinking you look so cool with your hair looking like it's all windswept. You make me sick!"

"Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick...You make me SICK."

The words weren't exactly the same, but they were eerily similar with the exact same intention. But the intention couldn't be the same, because that would mean...

"Oh!"

Harry Potter finally understood his friends perfectly.