Concerned Awakening

Concerned Awakening

Hermione Granger, Gryffindor prefect, was on her way to Arithmancy when it happened. She heard voices talking, and couldn't resist stopping to listen a bit.

"I've seen hags that look better than her," came the first voice. Hermione couldn't place it, although she knew she had heard it somewhere before. It was definitely a Slytherin. They all seemed to have disgust permanently laced into their voices, which made conversations involving them quite obvious.

"You're just jealous that no matter what you do, she always beats you in every exam, Malfoy. Personally, I don't see how she came to have so much power. A mudblood like her shouldn't be blessed with so much ability. It should be considered a felony."

The second person was definitely one of the close-minded Ravenclaws she had heard about. There weren't many, because most of the pureblood extremists went into Slytherin. This voice, she couldn't place. She could tell it was a female, but she had no idea whom it was.

"You know I agree with you, but that doesn't change that somehow she seems to bewitch even the most famous of guys. I mean, why in the world would Viktor Krum want to go to a ball with her when he could have his pick of any pureblood he wants? Especially since she takes no care at all in her appearance."

One didn't have to be a genius to figure out whom the two were talking about. Obviously some people thought she was ugly. But she didn't let them get to her--did she? She had let people tear her up before, but obviously these people wanted to do something much, much worse than that. But would she let them?

Having overheard that conversation, Hermione was thinking so much about that that she forgot to go to Arithmancy. Instead, she went to the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor, looking for a place to think. The room gave her a very comfortable chair to sit in. It was so large that it seemed to swallow her whole body.

She was so comfortable in the chair that pretty soon, she fell asleep. But even though she had fallen asleep, her mind couldn't think of anything but that conversation she had overheard.

..............................

"I've seen hags that look better than you," Draco Malfoy taunted. His pale face was twisted into a triumphant sneer. "You're just a good for nothing mudblood with too many brains and not enough respect for your betters."

"Surely you already knew that, Malfoy. After all, you've been trying to tell her that for how long--Four years? Some of us agree with you, but obviously others don't understand the pureblood way." This voice finally made its owner known. It was Marietta Edgecombe, who had made a mistake the year before that had cost her some dignity. Marietta had been the student to go forward to Dolores Umbridge about Dumbledore's Army, and as a result she had faced the consequences of having "Sneak" across her forehead in the form of acne.

But Marietta and Malfoy weren't the only people there. Looking around, Hermione noticed that all of her fellow yearmates, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Cho Chang, and some of the younger students were there. Out of all of them, only five were on the same side of the room as Hermione--Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Ginny, Luna, and Neville Longbottom. They were sitting, and were looking at Malfoy and Marietta as if they had never seen worse scum in a pond.

"Be quiet, Malfoy," Ginny said hotly. "She's at least ten times the witch or wizard you could ever be. I don't see how you got made a Prefect in the first place, with your record of hexing first years at random! Not to mention doing things that are 'above your station' as you so like to phrase it."

It got to the point where the negative arguments, no matter how good the retorts were, were completely overpowering the positive arguments. Hermione felt as if she were going to be sick. She was tossing and turning, trying to get out of this nightmare.

She kept hearing this voice. It seemed to be getting louder, but she couldn't see who was speaking. It sounded like they were calling her name, but she couldn't be sure.

"Hermione? Hermione, wake up. Come on, Hermione."

..............................

"Hermione? Hermione, wake up. Come on, Hermione." Harry Potter gently shook her shoulder, trying to get her to awake. She was acting as if she were having some sort of nightmare, a condition he knew very well--more so than he would have liked.

Hermione's eyes flew open. She saw him there, and he could feel her relax. She sat up and looked around, having forgotten where she was.

"You're in the Room of Requirement, Hermione. I don't know how long you've been here, but I dare say Professor Vector has been wondering what happened to her best student," Harry sat down beside her, draping his arm across her shoulders. "However, I'd like to know what's bothering you."

"I missed Arithmancy? Oh, no! Professor Vector's going to be so--Wait a moment. How did you know something was bothering me?" Hermione looked questioningly at him.

"You were having a nightmare, Hermione. You rarely ever have nightmares, or fall asleep in the middle of the day!" Harry's voice was slightly louder than usual to Hermione, but given his close proximity to her, that was quite understandable. "Is there something wrong with my being worried about you, Hermione?" he asked softly.

She hadn't looked in his eyes since before his voice had gotten loud. Now as she did look in his eyes, she saw something in them that made her eyes widen. He looked genuinely concerned, an emotion she had never seen in his eyes before. She had seen anger, amusement, happiness, but never had she seen him look so concerned.

"No, Harry. There's nothing wrong with you being concerned. It's just that..." Hermione trailed off, not knowing where to begin.

"Go on, Hermione. Just tell me. You'll feel better, I promise."

"Well, it started when I was on my way to Arithmancy. I heard voices coming from a classroom a few doors before Professor Vector's room, and I couldn't help stopping to hear what they were saying. It was Malfoy, and he was talking to Marietta Edgecombe. They were talking about me, Harry. Malfoy said he had seen hags that looked better than me, and I know I don't normally get upset at those kind of things, but it and the other things I said, I just couldn't get them out of my head, Harry!"

Hermione continued to tell him the rest of the story. She never noticed his hands grab hers, and she certainly didn't notice his expression change from one of concern to one of anger. When she finished her story, however, his reaction certainly got noticed.

"Hermione, listen to me. Hags couldn't hold a candle to you if they tried! And Malfoy may think he's above you, but I'm proud to know that my best friend is at the top of her class. I'm not that far behind you anymore, you know. And I have you to thank for it. I know I would never have thought of Dumbledore's Army. You're the one who thought it up, I just taught. And I never would have gotten through the Tournament without you, Hermione. You've done too much for me, and I don't know how I'll ever repay it all. You know," Harry continued, thinking about something he couldn't believe had happened only the year before, "this isn't the first time I've been concerned about you. It's probably around the fourth or fifth time, actually."

"When were the other times? I bet I know the first one--when I was Petrified during second year?" Hermione asked.

"That was the first, yes. The second time was during third year when you were trying to keep up with all of your classes using the Time Turner. I was worried you were over-exerting yourself with all the homework you had to keep up with. The third time was during the Second Task. I was worried that Krum wouldn't get to you in time, even though Ron was my 'hostage.' And the fourth..." Harry seemed to pale at this, as if he couldn't even bear to think about it. "Last year, when we were in the Department of Mysteries. Dolohov got you with that spell. Hermione, I honestly thought you might have been dead at that time, and I didn't know what I would do if you were. If Neville hadn't been thinking to listen for your pulse, I might have gone crazy from anxiety. I couldn't think straight, I was in such a panic. That's the only time I've ever been that afraid of something."

Hermione couldn't speak. She could hardly believe this was Harry, her best friend, sitting there telling her that he didn't know what he would do if she were dead. Ron had never, ever shown this much concern for her in all the time she had known him. True, Ron had been glad to see her Un-Petrified in second year, and he had shown slight concern over her "impossible" schedule, but those didn't even come close. When it came down to it, Harry had always been there when something happened. He had still been her friend during the whole Scabbers incident, he had been the only conscious one of them during the Second Task, and he had been with her the whole time she was conscious in the Department of Mysteries. That he had not been able to think straight until Neville had confirmed her pulse was a new experience for her.

Harry sat there, waiting on her response. She looked slightly dazed, as if she couldn't think of a single thing to say. He leaned forward, going to hug her, when he felt a pair of lips touch his. The kiss was short, and feather-like. He looked at her, now feeling as dazed as she had looked, and did the only thing he could think to do--he kissed her again.

It was harder and longer this time, but still had the awkwardness of one's first real kiss. It wasn't the wet kiss he had gotten from Cho, but was soft lips, inexperienced minds, and the combination of friends and companions that made it memorable. Their noses came close to bumping into each other at some point, and Harry could tell that Hermione was as nervous about this as he was.

When they finally pulled apart to catch their breaths, Hermione was looking at their hands, which had been joined together since she had told him what had happened. Harry thought back on what she had said happened, and realized there was something he just had to tell her all of a sudden.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"Yes?" came the reply. It couldn't have been more than a whisper, but Harry could hear her, plain as day.

"I think Malfoy needs to be taught a lesson, although I don't know what we should do. Any suggestions?" Harry smiled at her, trying to cheer her up a bit more.

"Actually, I think Malfoy can just get his comeuppance on the Quidditch Field. Make it clear you know what he and Marietta were up to, and beat him. That would make me happier than seeing you get Detention." Hermione winked at him, letting him know that even if their match against Slytherin hadn't been coming up, she still wouldn't have wanted either one of them to get into trouble.

And, truth be told, Harry couldn't say he blamed her.