Objection

Chapter 1 Aargh! No! I Can't Believe They're Together!

Hermione finished her Potions essay and put down her quill with a flourish. 'All done!'

Ron and Harry looked up at her, scowling. They were still on their third roll of parchment! Snape had asked for five.

'Hermione, let me see,' begged Ron. 'Please, I've drained all the information from the only book I could find on the stinking Polyjuice Potion. How come you finished it? My writing's bigger!'

'Hmm,' Hermione pulled his essay over and scanned it. 'Yes, it is, you've got about four lines to a roll now, haven't you? Well, try Cross Subject Spells, it's got a whole chapter on Transfiguration Potions. Just don't get it mixed up with Potion Transfigurations.'

Ron scowled as she handed him the six inch thick book. He dropped it on his lap in surprise, not expecting it to be so heavy. A large bout of silent swearing followed this.

'Got any other good books, Hermione?' Harry asked hopefully. 'I only read the one Ron had, and I can't remember the recipe from second year.'

'You can't?' Hermione exclaimed. 'Didn't you write it down?'

'No!' said Harry blankly. 'Why would I?'

'I knew we'd be studying it later in school! The sixth year end of year exams are very important, they're done in the same style as the NEWTs to help prepare us! I bet Lavender three Galleons they'd come up in the end of year's!'

Ron looked up at this mention of Lavender Brown.

'Hey, what are they like in the dormitory?' he asked with great interest. Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'Just out of curiosity, I mean, they must be really annoying,' Ron hastily added. 'So?'

'They clutter up the bathroom with their make up products,' said Hermione disapprovingly. 'I don't own any of the stuff, but they've got enough to open ten beauty parlours. There are pictures of all the people they think are good looking stuck up, around the mirrors and on the walls. They even put a photo of Viktor up, from Witch Weekly! And Parvati goes "No offense, Hermione. We know he's yours." And they both started giggling ridiculously.

'And all they talk about is boys or matchmaking! Especially late at night, it's always "Hey, how do you think Neville would go with Eloise Midgeon?" or "I know the perfect girl for Harry! He would just sweep her off her feet, I swear!" I could tell you who all the girls in the school like!'

'Who likes me?' asked Harry with great interest.

'And me?' said Ron hopefully.

'God, Harry, I'd have thought even you'd know who likes you the best,' Hermione said, surprised. 'She acts all cutesy-cutesy when you're around, she gets dead embarrassed and can't talk to you properly, and no, she's not one of the Gigglers' Club, she's a decent, pretty girl! And she's nice and clever too, that's better than being pretty.'

'No,' said Ron interestedly. 'Who is it?'

'Buy a brain, Ron,' said Hermione. 'Harry: she's in the year below you. She has red hair, brown eyes and freckles. She is your best friend's little sister. Her name is Ginny Weasley and she has been smitten with you ever since she first saw you! So ask her to the Christmas Dance!'

'Wow,' said Harry. 'You're good.'

'Who likes me?' asked Ron impatiently. 'Come on, Hermione, you told Harry who likes him.'

'Ok, the number one candidate for you, Ron, is -' then Hermione stopped. She meant to say Lavender, but Hermione knew that she herself liked Ron. She hadn't told anyone else, but it might have been obvious judging from the amused look on Harry's face.

'Blaise Zabini,' Hermione finished weakly, then built it up, to make it seem more believable. 'He's the gay guy in our year in Slytherin, Ron. And he thinks you have a cute butt!'

Ron's mouth fell open and Harry roared with laughter.

'Oh, that's a good one,' Harry said, when he had stopped laughing. 'Ron's cute butt ... that's funny, that one.'

'Seriously, Hermione,' said Ron, who was frowning. 'Who does like me?'

'No one as far as I know,' Hermione lied. 'They don't talk about you like they talk about some people. Ask them.' This was a huge lie, because Lavender talked about little else, sometimes boring Parvati, who was interested mostly in Dean, so much that she even tried to talk to Hermione.

'Who do they talk about?' asked Harry, looking amused.

'Well, you're a great favourite of theirs, Harry,' said Hermione, her eyes sparkling. 'And then there's Malfoy, they think he's very hot -'

Ron burst out laughing this time.

'It's not a joke, Ron,' said Hermione seriously. 'They do. And there's Viktor, they like him, and Oliver Wood, even though he's left ... oh yes, and Fred and George. And of course, about Roger Davies, the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain from ages ago. Apparently, now he's on the Appleby something-or-others and Parvati and Lavender rave about him.'

'The Appleby Arrows, Hermione,' said Harry, while Ron raised his eyes to heaven and muttered something under his breath.

'Praying for the Chudley Cannons to win the World Cup next time, Ron?' said Harry. 'Not much chance of that, mate, you'd better just keep praying!'

'And don't turn up at their matches, you'll be sorely disappointed,' Hermione said loftily. Ron glared at them both and went back to his essay. Hermione wondered again if Ron was ever going to ask her to the dance. It looked like she was going to be the one who was sorely disappointed.

*

'So ask her!'

'No, she'd say no ...'

Hermione stopped in her tracks and listened. It sounded like Ron wanted to ask someone to the dance but was frightened they'd say no. Was it her?

'Look, Ron, she wouldn't say no,' came Harry's impatient voice. 'I heard her and Parvati talking about you, Hermione was just joking about that Blaise Zabini thing. I still don't know why you won't ask Hermione, it sounds pretty obvious that you like her.'

'I do not! Ok, ok, I'll ask Lavender -'

'Here she comes, here she comes!' Harry's voice was whispering excitedly. 'Just ask her now, go on -'

'Lavender?' came Ron's uncertain voice. 'I wanted to know if you'd go to the dance with me?'

Hermione's stomach gave a lurch and she ran, ran anywhere, she couldn't see where she was going but what did it matter? Ron liked Lavender, not her, he wanted to ask Lavender to the dance ...

SMACK.

She had bumped into someone, she didn't know who it was, and she really didn't care ... or maybe she did. It was Malfoy.

'Oh, look, it's the long molared Mudblood!'

Hermione had fallen over and she looked up, brushing an auburn curl out of her face. Pansy Parkinson was on his arm and Crabbe and Goyle were either side of them. Crabbe was looking pleased with himself; Millicent Bulstrode was standing awfully close to him ... eww, bad mental image.

'In case you hadn't noticed, Malfoy, Madam Pomfrey shrunk my teeth and they're fine. Did you ever notice you've got these squinty, wrinkly little eyes? They remind me of an old woman. Or Mad Eye Moody's normal eye.'

Malfoy was looking furious. Pansy was scrutinising his eyes critically. Much to Hermione's surprise, Goyle offered his hand to her and helped her up.

'Well thank you Goyle,' she said. 'That was nice of you. I've got to go now.'

And she ran off, feeling hysterical. She was greatly amused because Goyle had been nice to her and she could hear Malfoy yelling at him from down the hall; but she was utterly miserable because she knew Lavender would never refuse Ron's offer.

Hermione ran up to the girls' dormitories and buried her face in her pillow. She had hardly been there for five minutes when Lavender and Parvati came in, gossiping as usual, and preventing her from having a good long hysterical cry.

'Oh Hermione, you'll never guess what happened!' gushed Parvati. 'Ron finally asked Lavender to go to the dance with him! Isn't that great ?'

'Just peachy,' Hermione growled from under her pillow.

'What's the matter? You're not -' Hermione could just feel them exchanging knowing looks, 'jealous, are you?'

'No,' said Hermione unconvincingly, fishing desperately for an excuse. 'I - I'm being stalked, that's all. So I'd strongly advise you to keep away from me.'

They squealed and ran out of the dormitory. Hermione cried for a bit more, then decided to get up and get on with her life.

'So Ron doesn't like you like that,' she reasoned with herself. 'Someone else is bound to ask you! You went with Viktor Krum in fourth year, boys will probably be wondering why he likes you! Maybe they'd want to get to know someone Viktor Krum thinks is nice! And even if no one asks you, there's always Neville, or staying in the dormitory with Crookshanks. Or I could go alone, maybe some single boys will ask me to dance. Or boys with a partner, but their partner went off with someone else, like Harry and Ron in fourth year. I wonder if Harry's asked Ginny yet?'

Hermione took a shower and put on her fluffy blue-grey jumper. She was going down to Hagrid's house to observe the phoenix's habits, when suddenly it hit her. She could talk to Hagrid about her problems! On the way there Goyle was staring at her from the Owlery, but then gave her a doofy grin. Hermione gave him an uncertain smile back and hurried off.

She knocked on the door and Hagrid answered it, holding back Fang, looking as cheerful as usual. But when he saw her face he looked worried and made her a cup of tea while she explained her problems.

'Hagrid, there's this - this boy,' she began, embarrassed. 'And I really like him, but he's going to the dance with someone else. And there's this other boy, who I really don't like. He's in Slytherin. But I think he likes me, because usually he acts all retarded, but when I fell over he helped me up, and later, he was staring at me, then he smiled. I smiled back, because, even though I really hate his friends and stuff - they're Slytherins, how could I not - I somehow don't want to hurt him. Even though he's usually a great big bully and probably takes hurting people as a daily experience.'

Hagrid looked puzzled, and thought for a bit. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, flew down on to Hermione's lap and she stroked him absent-mindedly.

'Well, I don' believe in goin' ter a dance with someone yer not int'rested in because yeh just wan' ter make this boy yeh like jealous,' Hagrid said, scratching his chin. 'Best thing ter do's ask yerself. Ask yer heart. If yer not int'rested in the Slytherin, yeh can' help it, an' the best thing ter do abou' the other boy's - well, jus' move on. Don' think abou' him, ask someone else ter the dance if yeh can, bu' only if yeh really like him and wan' ter go with him. An' tha's the best advice I can give.'

'Thanks, Hagrid,' Hermione said, smiling slightly. 'That was great advice. But the problem is - the boy I like - isoneofmybestfriends.'

'Ah,' said Hagrid. 'I think I know who it is, bu' I won' tease yeh. Well, all I can say ter that is ... keep it as tha'. One o' yer best friends, nothin' more. Yeh'll best get over him by spendin' more time with girls, like Ginny or someone. She's nice. Go ter Hogsmeade with her, have some girls' time. An' find someone ter go with yeh ter the dance. Even if yer invite yer Bulgarian friend, get someone to go with an' don' think abou' R- abou' the boy.'

Hermione smiled at him, then she started giggling.

'Wha'?' asked Hagrid, looking bewildered. 'Anything wrong with the advice?'

'No, no, Hagrid,' said Hermione, still giggling. 'It was wonderful advice, it really was. It just sounds so - so funny, when you talk about having some girls' time like that -' And Hermione broke down and laughed some more, but the next thing she knew she was crying. Hagrid put his arm round her and she sobbed into his coat.

'Don' worry, Hermione,' he said cheerfully. 'If no one asks yeh ter the dance - which I doubt - yeh can go with me.'

That brought Hermione's tears back to laughter and she left the cabin in a much better mood.

*

'Hi.'

'Hi, Goyle.'

Now Goyle was greatly annoying Hermione. Nothing seemed to give him more thrill than to say 'hi' to Hermione whenever he saw her, which was very often, despite the enormity of Hogwarts castle and grounds. Harry and Ron (who Hermione was still friends with) thought it was all hilarious and laughed openly at Goyle, knowing he would never attack them because they were friends with Hermione.

Hermione had gone to Hogsmeade with Ginny, and it had been great fun except Ginny talked about Harry, who had eventually asked her to the dance, an awful lot.

Hermione was writing to Viktor more than she had done before but she had decided not to invite him. It would be a waste of his time anyway, he had a full time job. She had told him, however, that no one had asked her to the dance yet. He had replied saying everyone else was insane if they didn't ask her and he would come down himself and go with her if she was left single.

One dinner though, Hermione just couldn't face the way Ron and Lavender gave each other soppy smiles and held hands under the table. She ran up to the common room in the middle of her beef and sat staring at the fire with tears streaming down her cheeks. Someone came into the room soon after, who also sounded miserable. 'What's the matter, Hermione?' he asked her.

'Nothing, just my heart has been ripped out of my body with a jagged, rusty spoon,' Hermione sobbed, not looking up.

'Oh. Same here,' said the person, very seriously. Hermione looked up in shock.