Love and Understanding

I tried to stop laughing, but every time I looked over at Oliver, I was overcome by a fresh wave. I'd tried to tell him that he didn't look half bad with a tail and furry ears, all things considered, but I don't think he was placated at all. He was sitting sullenly in a corner, practising picking things up with the tail, and occasionally scratching at his ears.

I picked up one of the Monkey Munches - Fred and George's latest in the animal range. "Would you mind if I borrowed a couple?" I asked. I still hadn't forgotten the quite frankly evil trick that Harry and Ron had played on me with my quill pen. I'd only barely managed to convince Professor Binns that it was all a mistake, and I hadn't really written about Professor Snape's extensive underwear collection on purpose. As far as I was concerned, it was payback time.

Fred and George just grinned widely.

Oliver had removed the glamour two hours ago, much to the relief of the twins (and me). He'd then demanded that the twins, quote 'show Hermione a good time' unquote. I'd been a bit doubtful - the twins had never shown me anything remotely resembling a good time. Well, not me personally, anyway.

But you had to hand it to them - if they put their minds to something, that was it. It would happen, and woe betide anyone who stood in their way.

"Come on, Oliver!" encouraged Fred, holding out some Chocolate Frogs. "Cheer up. You got to see the more laid-back side to Hermione, didn't you? Very rare event, that - ow!"

He glared at me, and picked up the Monkey Munch I'd just lobbed at his head. Behind him I could see George's mind working overtime, trying to work out what was going on between Oliver and me. I was dying to work that one out myself, to be honest; obviously I had male friends, but things were just different with them.

"Hey!" Oliver exclaimed. "My tail's gone!"

"Excellent," muttered Fred, scribbling something in a notebook. "How are your ears?"

"Still furry," said Oliver, but he looked happier. He sauntered over to where I was examining the merchandise. "What are you looking at?"

"Funny Bones," I replied, holding up a packet.

George grinned. "Ingenious, aren't they? See how they're shaped like different bones in the body? You eat one, and then if you hit that bone in the next six hours, you start laughing and you can't stop."

"Dare you to eat one," said Oliver, looking at me.

I shook my head. "I think not. If anyone eats these, it'll be Harry and Ron, and I shall be there to make sure they do hit those bones."

"You're evil, you know that?"

"I am not. Well, maybe a little. But it's the perfect crime, don't you agree? Who'd ever suspect innocent, studious Hermione Granger?"

Oliver backed away from me. "Suddenly I feel very worried about standing too close to you."

I snickered and raised a Funny Bone in the air as if I were going to throw it. Fred gently plucked it from my hand, eyeing me cautiously. "I do believe we've underestimated you, little Granger."

"Little?! I resent that - you know I'm at least three inches taller than Ginny."

* * *

I walked her back from the Three Broomsticks to Honeydukes, where she would meet Harry and Ron. I did think about sticking around, but I was already getting strange looks from people, and I didn't want to drag Hermione into a tabloid article.

"Bye," I muttered, kissing her on the cheek and heading back out into the chilly wind.

I kept my head down as I walked; it wasn't that I was constantly besieged by fans or anything, but if just one person recognised me, then I could be guaranteed at least a tiny article the next day. Bigger if Hermione was seen with me.

Hermione.

Now there's a girl, I thought. She's special, all right.

Just before we'd left Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Fred had taken me aside, mainly to give me some trousers so I wouldn't have to go back out in a skirt, but he'd also asked me, "What's going on with you and Hermione?"

It was a good question. The truth was, I didn't know. I wouldn't say as much to Fred, though. "We're friends," I'd replied firmly, wincing inwardly at the inadvertent cliche. "Nothing more." But was I being honest? I've had female friends before, and all of them have been Quidditch players. I liked them because we could happily talk about the sport for hours, and I respected them because they were tough and could hold their own. They were fun to be around. But I'd never once confided in them about my problems. I went out with Katie Bell a couple of times, but our conversations had no particular depth to them, and we just ended up reverting to our old friendship.

So why was it different with Hermione? Surely it wasn't just that she didn't like Quidditch, although I had to admit that that was probably a factor. She was attractive, obviously, but it wasn't just that. It was deeper. More complex.

I sighed. I'd reached the Apparition Point, and as I climbed the steps and prepared to Apparate back to my flat in Kensington, I couldn't help thinking that I possibly, maybe wouldn't mind if Hermione fancied me.

* * *

"Um... Hermione? Do you fancy Oliver?"

I glanced up, shocked, from my plate of chicken and rice. Bloody hell. It was Harry who had voiced the question, and he was regarding me nervously across the table. I hurriedly shook my head. "No, of course not. Where would you get an idea like that?"

"Well..." Harry shot a shifty look at Ron.

"We got a letter from Fred and George," Ron explained, "who said that you and Oliver had Flooed into their shop a few days ago with the sole intention of having a wild time."

I rolled my eyes. "Honest to God... I was dragged, OK? And I can be friends with a boy without fancying him, you know. I mean, no offence, but I'm hardly head over heels for you two."

"OK," said Harry quickly, "we understand. But you had to realise that we'd be suspicious. Obviously we don't believe everything Fred and George say, but they were unusually... emphatic, shall we say?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Really?"

Ron nodded. "Yup. They also mentioned something about hairy ears... you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Bollocks. "Nope," I replied, trying to sound innocent. Bugger - that's that ruined, thanks very much Fred and George.

Later I traipsed upstairs to the girls' dormitories, just in time to catch a familiar owl swooping through the open window. It dropped a letter into my hand, did a U-turn and disappeared through the window again. I unfolded the paper, knowing instinctively who it was from.

Dear Hermione,

My favourite colour is red. When I'm not playing (or practising) Quidditch, I like reading mystery novels, trying to play the piano (not succeeding at the moment) and making a nuisance of myself in Diagon Alley. When I was little I used to want to be a painter, because I wasn't very good at anything else. My favourite day of the week is Friday, my favourite season is winter, and my favourite flavour of ice cream is toffee ripple.

Why am I telling you this? You once complained that you didn't really know me - I have set out to make sure that we rectify that problem by Christmas. Can you give me some hints about what to get you? Or better yet, tell me about yourself.

I'd love for you to come and watch me practise someday. Write to me soon, OK?

Your friend,

Oliver

I couldn't help myself - I laughed out loud.

Dear Oliver, I wrote,

We share the same flavour of ice cream, but that's about it, I'm afraid. I was kind of crap at painting - I mixed up all the colours and got into lots of trouble with the teacher. My favourite day of the week is Thursday at the moment, because I have Transfiguration in the morning and Arithmancy in the afternoon, but no Potions. My favourite season is autumn, my favourite colour is maroon, and when I was little, I wanted to be a ballerina.

When I don't have my head stuck in my books, I'm usually pestering Ron and Harry to do their homework (they always leave it so late and then beg me to let them copy mine), hunting down troublemakers, and having illicit affairs with Draco Malfoy. (Only kidding about that last one).

So when's your next practice?

Always,

Hermione.

I didn't care about my 'I can be friends with a boy without fancying him' speech - I was starting to think that Oliver, as Quidditch-obsessed as he was, would be very welcome in my currently-vacant 'boyfriend' slot.