Crumpled Parchment

She was sitting there, writing to him and actually fretting over it. She was fretting so much that she kept crumpling pieces of parchment in a very meticulous manner despite the randomness of such an act, and Ron thought it very funny he should notice such a thing. But why shouldn't he? He had known her for years, had been through countless exams, lessons, and ventures to notice her neat handwriting, how her fingers were always splotched with ink, and that she never slouched. Krum didn't know Hermione near enough to make her fret like this. Once again, she tossed another piece of crumpled parchment aside. He rebuked her, using his homework as an excuse, but she didn't buy it.

"When does homework make you nervous, Ron?" she laughed, and he knew it was over. She had used that inevitable pitch in her voice that told him there was no possible retort. She was right. He turned back to his Divination text, writing furiously as she pulled out more parchment and dabbed her quill in ink. Ron knew two things at that moment, and both were greatly upsetting: His three role essay for Divination was due the following morning, and Hermione was writing to Krum. Krum, Krummy Krum, Krum Bum. Krum, a despicable name Ron hated for reasons he didn't quite understand. It could have been because Hermione had chosen to betray her friends and accompany Krum to the Yule Ball, but he had a nagging feeling that wasn't quite it. Harry stated quite plainly he hadn't minded at all she'd chosen Krum. And worse, Ron believed him. If Harry didn't mind, why should he? This question perpetually bothered him, especially when the wind pinked her cheeks and blew her hair about as they walked around the grounds on chilly days, or in the evenings when the fire softly lit her face as they studied. As she continued writing on meticulously, Ron wondered what secrets she was telling Krum. He scribbled furiously over a sentence when he realized he'd spelled out her name by accident. Perhaps it was because Krum was famous and good looking in a sort of bohemian, low brow sort of way. If that was Hermione's reasoning, Ron thought, she was in a sorry state. Krum couldn't even pronounce her name correctly. Surely she had better sense than that. He glanced at her letter but couldn't read anything substantial. She continued writing, so much so he had an urge to grab the parchment from her and rip it to shreds. Krum was all wrong, she deserved better. She deserved someone who admired her innate idiosyncrasies, her intellect, and her tendency to overanalyze and run herself ragged over lessons. Krum, Ron knew, could never be that someone. In spite of everything that annoyed Ron the most about her, he admitted these were the traits that made her unique and endearing. He sighed when he noticed she had stopped writing, and prepared to hear another round of crumbling, tossing, and rustling. This was getting ridiculous, Ron thought.

"What's wrong?" he said sharply. "Out of ink to add more to that novel of yours?"

He expected a terse reply but when she didn't speak he turned to her, a bit worried as it was a rare occurrence when Hermione didn't take the opportunity to retort coolly to such a statement.

"What is it?" he asked, his face softening when he saw her expression, one he'd never seen before. She looked as though she were staring at a problem she couldn't answer. He was about to ask her again when something very miraculous happened. She began shredding her letter to tiny bits right before his eyes while explaining to Ron she wasn't going to finish it.

"I realize that I don't have anything to say to him," Hermione said as she pulled out her Transfiguration text, "and that it's silly to keep his hopes up, really. He lives so far away and we never see one another."

Ron couldn't keep from smiling.

She had come to her senses. She had realized that Krum wasn't right for her, that someone else better suited her. Who exactly that someone was Ron didn't know, and ignored the lurch in his stomach that accompanied the thought of Hermione with anyone. He didn't take the time ponder these feelings because she had just ripped up that bloody letter and had tossed Krum aside along with its discarded pieces. More importantly, he had been right about Krum. And Hermione knew it. He relished in that thought for a few moments as he always loved proving Hermione wrong.

"Oh, don't look so triumphant!" Hermione huffed. "I know you hate him, but there's no need to rub it in."

"I'm not rubbing anything in!" he snapped, although still smiling. "But you're right, I never liked him."

"Did too," she replied and Ron realized she seemed more at ease in her usual haughtiness.

"I only liked his talent," he said to end the discussion. He didn't want to discuss Krum with her any more than necessary. He flipped through his Divination text for a few moments before curiosity finally overcame him.

"What were you saying to him anyway?" he asked.

"Oh, this and that really, nothing monumental," Hermione said as she pulled out more parchment in order to take notes, Ron knew. He stole another glance at Hermione and noticed she was smiling a bit in the fading light of dusk. He also realized, without really acknowledging what it might mean, that she looked quite lovely. He resumed his work unable to hide the overwhelming sense of contentment the likes he hadn't felt since he'd defaced his tiny figurine of Krum.