Frustation of a Prefect

‘…I don’t know what’s going on. The harder I try, the worse I do. It’s like I’m caught in a giant Devil’s Snare, the more I do to free myself, the tighter its grip grows. What is wrong with me? Hermione Granger the Prefect doesn’t get bad grades! I am so stupid.’

Hermione closed her journal and put it back in her nightstand drawer. Then, with silent tears running down her face, she pulled up the covers and lay awake.

**The next morning**

Ron ran down the stairs of the boys’ dormitory, and out of the common room looking very much like a blur of red. As he tumbled into the Great Hall, breakfast was ending; in fact, the last bits of food had already begun to disappear from the Head Table. Dumbledore’s plate was gone, so was McGonagall’s, Snape’s was fading and- the whole Staff Table was devoid of food. That meant…

Ron made a flying leap for a biscuit on the Gryffindor table but…

“Sorry mate, better luck tomorrow.”

Harry stood up. “Shut up, Harry,” was Ron's reply.

Ron grumbled, picked himself off the floor and plopped into the seat that Harry was sitting in. Hermione just sat giggling next at him. Today was the third day in a row that Ron had just missed breakfast.

“Harry, can I use the Invisibility Cloak?”

“What? Now?”

“Yeah, I’m-” a big growl came from his stomach “-hungry”

“Ron, class starts in five minutes! You don’t have time.”

Harry started to leave, and Ron whined about how a good friend doesn’t let his friend sleep in and miss breakfast for the third day in a row.

“Oh, Ron, shut up. Here.”

Hermione pulled a biscuit sandwich out of her robe's pocket and handed it to Ron. Ron, in return, launched himself at her, enveloping her is a crushing bear hug.

“There is a God and He doesn’t hate me!!!”

“Ron, put me down!”

“Sorry, ‘Mione.”

Ron dropped his friend, and the three of them ran towards the dungeons. Double Potions… what a wonderful way to start the day.

****

“…you will further note that werewolves are not, in any way, associated with the item wolfsbane, other than the recently developed Wolfsbane Potion, which allows werewolves to maintain their minds while transformed; consequently, this item absolutely does not cause them to transform prematurely, Mr. Weasley.”

Ron shook his head.

“I still don’t believe it.”

“If you are truly curious about your query, I suggest you owl your friend, the former Professor Lupin upon the next full moon. Now, if there are no more stupid questions from idiotic Gryffindors, your homework is a six foot essay on the Solimos potion, which is an experimental vampire repelling draught, and was the original focus of today’s lesson.”

Hermione studiously copied down her assignment as the rest of the class groaned and complained.

“Ron, you git.”

“What?”

“I didn’t get to hear any of the lesson because you had to ask that stupid question. If you really wanted to know about wolfsbane, you could’ve sent an owl to Lupin.”

“Just ask Hermione, you know she knows everything anyway. Really, I don’t know why you even bother trying in this class, Snape’s just going to-”

Snape stood from his desk . “Ms. Granger, I would like to talk with you after class. And what exactly am I going to do, Mr. Weasley?”

“Um... Nothing, Professor.”

****

The rest of the day went by fairly uneventfully. Lunch was excellent, History of Magic was boring, and the homework, as usual, was piling up. As soon as dinner was over, Harry ran to the locker rooms for Quidditch practice, and Hermione made her way to the library with Ron trudging behind her.

“But Hermione, why do we have to work on Snape’s stupid essay now? It’s not due for another week!”

Hermione just let out an exasperated sigh and continued down the corridor. Snape had said, in no uncertain terms, that if her essay did not meet his requirements to the fullest, she would be in danger of failing. Like bloody hell she was going to wait to work on her essay! And thus began a usual night for our favourite Gryffindors. After a few hours of working in the library, Dobby skipped in, carrying a note.

“Miss Hermy-o-ne!”

Dobby glanced among the books and tables searching for the recipient of his charge.

“Miss Hermy-o-ne!!” he called, this time a little louder, causing Madam Pince to turn and glare at the house elf.

“Dobby! Over here!” Ron waved his arm in the air to get Dobby’s attention. Relieved, the humble house-elf scampered up to the table to deliver his note.

“Greetings, Mr. Wheezy. Dobby is grateful for your mother’s kind gift. Mrs. Wheezy has to be a great person to have such generous a son.”

Dobby eyes got a little moist as he tugged on the brown sweater that fit his little body just right. Ron had told his mother about Dobby over the summer. This year, Dobby had his own Christmas sweater.

“Er, it’s no big deal, really, Dobby. So what bring's you out of the kitchens?”

“Oh, Dobby has almost forgotten. The Professors has given Dobby a note to deliver to Miss Hermy-o-ne. Miss Hermy-o-ne?”

“Yes, Dobby, that sweater does look nice on you.”

“Oh, thanks you, Miss Hermy-o-ne. Here is the note. Dobby delivered it.”

Hermione took the note warily, anxious to read its contents, yet frightened at the same time.

“Good-bye friends of Harry Potter. Dobby must return to the kitchens. Winky is gettings ready to leave.”

Hermione looked up from the envelope, concern evident on her face, the cause of S.P.E.W. still burning within her.

“Why is Winky leaving? Dumbledore hasn’t kicked her out, has he? I mean, it’s not as if she costing him too much, she won’t even accept wages. And-”

“Oh no no no no no no, Miss Hermy-o-ne has it all wrong, miss. Winky is not leaving out of force; Winky is leaving to find a new family. Dobby and the others has convinced-ed her that she is better off with a family to looks after.”

Ron had an idea and poked his head up from behind a very large volume.

“Why don’t you tell Winky to go to my house? My mum would love her, and she’d have plenty of work to do.”

Ron winced at the glare Hermione gave him.

“And she’d be well taken care of, with wages if she really wants ‘em.”

“T’would be a great honour for Winky to work in the house of Harry Potter’s greatest friend. Dobby will go tell Winky now. Good-bye.”

And with that, Dobby excitedly skipped out of the library. Ron shook his head and returned to the table.

“Do you think that we’ll ever get beyond that?”

“Get beyond what?” Hermione responded absentmindedly; she was still eyeing the envelope Dobby had given her.

“Harry Potter’s friends. That’s what Dobby calls us, and it’s what we’re known as. The friends of Harry Potter, the people Harry Potter hangs out with, the friends of the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“OK, I got it.” Hermione set the note on the table. “Dobby considers anything associated with Harry to be great and honourable. So, naturally, by calling us the greatest friends of Harry Potter, he is bestowing an honour on us. It’s a compliment, take it as such, and don’t worry about other people. Harry, you, and I know who we are, and what we are, and that’s all that matters. Have you finished that essay yet?”

Ron started writing again, and Hermione opened her note.

Miss Granger,

    I am very concerned about your current grade situation. You are one of the brightest witches I have ever taught, and I hate to see your scores slipping as they have been doing lately. I am calling a meeting of your teachers in Professor Dumbledore’s office at 7 pm tonight. You are to attend so we can discuss the cause of this sudden difficulty.

                        Minerva McGonagall

                            Deputy Head Mistress

Hermione’s face took on a grim sort of acceptance as she put the note into her robe's pocket. Ron looked up from his parchment and gave his friend an odd look, but decided not to question, and went back to his essay.

At 6:55 that night, Hermione slowly climbed the stairs leading to the Headmaster’s office. This is it, she somberly thought to herself, This is the night my nightmares come true.

The gargoyle stared blankly at her, its expressionless eyes set mockingly upon Hermione. Great, she thought, even a piece of stone knows what a failure I am. Suddenly, the gargoyle sprang to life, revealing a narrow passage of stairs, and a very stern-looking Professor McGonagall.

“Good evening, Professor.”

“Good evening, Miss Granger. Please follow me.”

Without a word, Hermione obeyed her teacher as she was led into another room. Dumbledore’s office. How many times had Harry been there? Somehow, his descriptions did not do the room justice. The ceiling was high, and the walls were littered with portraits of stern but compassionate-looking witches and wizards that Hermione assumed to be past Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts. Devices of various types, all magical, filled the desk and self-space; what area was not taken up was crammed with books. Bringing her gaze more level with her eyes, Hermione noticed that all her teachers, including Hagrid, were sitting, or in Hagrid’s case standing, in the areas in front of Dumbledore’s desk. Dumbledore stood as Hermione fully entered the room.

“Ah, Miss Granger, happy you could join us, please take a seat.”

Hermione sat in a wooden chair near the centre of the room, her back was to the wall. She could see all of her teachers staring, or in Snape’s case, glaring, at her. She just wanted to melt into the floor; anything rather than face the embarrassment of what was to come. Dumbledore resumed his seat behind his desk and began speaking.

“Now, Miss Granger, it has come to my attention that your grades have not quite been up to par lately-”

“You are all but failing, Granger; how horrid for one of our esteemed Prefects to bear such a terrible quality. She should be forced to resign her title as Prefect at once-” Snape broke in.

“Severus, I believe that I was speaking, and as I have Miss Granger’s score sheet in front of me, I can tell that she is most definitely not failing; however, these scores are far lower than her usual average. Thus, a cause for concern.”

Snape sat back, sulking, and Dumbledore smiled at Hermione. Hermione just stared at her lap.

“As I have already stated, Miss Granger, you are not failing. Nevertheless, your grades are not at the elevated level that we have come to expect from you. This meeting is to find out what the difference is, and what we can do to compensate.” Dumbledore looked around the room at the faces of worried teachers before he continued, “Now, has anything changed in your life recently, Miss Granger?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, Professor.”

“A new boyfriend perhaps? Problems at home?”

“No, Professor.”

Hermione just wanted to cry. Everything she had built her reputation and self-esteem on was crashing down around her. True, she had said that there are more important things than being smart, but she didn’t really mean it was true for herself. How could I get so stupid?

McGonagall ventured, “Miss Granger, are your Prefect duties overwhelming your schedule? I don’t want to see you lose your title, but if the added duties are too much for you, I’m sure that Harry could stand to acquire some extra responsibility.”

“No, Professor, I don’t want that. Harry has enough to worry about.”

Professor Flitwick speculated, “Are you and Mr. Weasley alright? I know you two get in a row every now and again.”

“Ron and I are fine; we haven’t argued since this summer.”

One by one, all her teachers, except Snape, tried to guess Hermione’s problem. Each query getting odder as Hermione’s difficulty could not be found. By far, Hagrid’s was the most outlandish.

“Hermione? You haven’t gotten bit by a werewolf now, have you? ‘Cause you know that we can deal with that.”

Finally, Snape had had enough. “ This is ridiculous! Why don’t you all admit that your pet Miss Granger simply doesn’t possess the ability to maintain her previous marks.”

“Now Severus, that was uncalled for and untrue. Miss Granger, it is getting late, and I do not wish to take you away from your rest, which I’m sure you need. I am calling this meeting to a close; however, if you need to speak with me about anything, you know where to find me.”

Hermione had heard Harry say that Dumbledore had a way of looking at you as though he could see deep down into your soul, like he knew what was really going on and was just waiting for you to tell him. She now found herself faced with her Headmaster’s overwhelming compassion, and it frightened her, but she just couldn’t say anything.

“Thank you, Professors. I’ll go back to Gryffindor Tower now, good-night.”

A room full of teachers watched their best student hurriedly stumble down the stairs, tears streaming down her cheeks. Hermione calmly walked down the corridor leading from Dumbledore’s office. As if in a trance, she climbed the stairs and travelled the halls, her finger nails clenched into her palm, not stopping until she reached the portrait hole. Hermione was is so much of a daze that she didn’t even mutter the password. Fortunately, the Fat Lady saw her Prefect badge and recognised her, so she let her in anyway.

The Common Room was crowded, not unusual for a Thursday night. People were ready for a weekend, just one more day. Everyone was too busy to notice her mindlessly walking towards the girls’ dormitory, everyone except Harry. Quidditch practice had ended early tonight, mainly because Harry wasn’t feeling quite well. Ever since the summer, his scar burned on a regular basis, or if it didn’t burn him, it would make him ill. Not to the point that he’d wretch, but it would sap his strength. Tonight was one of those weak nights; however his eyes were functioning fine as soon as Hermione was up the steps of her dormitory. Harry was at the base of them, looking to make sure that her roommates were in the common room and no one was looking.

****

‘…I had a meeting with my teachers today. It was horrible, Snape said it, I should give my title of Prefect, Snape was right. Dumbledore seems so nice, but what can he know? I don’t even know what’s wrong with me. Nobody saw me come up here; Lavender is out with Seamus, and I don’t know where Parvati is. I don’t care; I don’t want to see anyone. I am so stupid!! Even Hagrid thinks so! He asked me if a werewolf bit me over the summer! I got another test back today, another mark in the fifties. What is wrong with me?’

Hermione started to cry freely now, her journal pages dampened by her tears. Out loud, she questioned, “What is wrong with me? What is wrong with me?”

Harry had just reached the 5th year girls’ door when he heard faint sobs from within. Slowly, he opened the door to find a sight that broke him. Hermione crying. Not tears of happiness like when he and Ron had figured out the Basilisk. No, these were tears of despair, hopelessness, self-loathing. Harry knew these tears too well, for he had shed them all summer. Seeing them fall from Hermione’s eyes was too much for him to bear.

Hermione felt two strong arms pull her close to a hard chest. “There is nothing wrong with you.” the voice said.

Hermione looked up to see the sparkling emerald eyes that she knew too well. “Harry.” Hermione just cried into his chest, and he held her close, much of his strength regaining.

“Shhhh, shhhh, it’ll be OK.” He saw her clasped hand. Slowly and painfully, he unclenched her fingers, pulling the nails out of her palm, leaving marks of deep purple and red.

“No, it won’t, Harry.”

“What won’t?”

“Everything.”

“That’s pretty vague. Why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

Hermione’s crying had slowed, her body was not racked with the sobs that Harry held her through earlier, but tears still streamed down her face.

“My grades are slipping.”

“Is that all?”

Hermione gave Harry a dirty look.

“Harry, for me, this is a big deal, my grades have never been as low as they are now. I’m getting fifties and sixties. This is not like me. McGonagall sent a owl to my parents saying that my grades are down, and now even they think I’m stupid.”

“C’mon, I know your parents don't think you are stupid.”

Hermione shook her head and stared at the covers of her bed. “No, Harry, you’re wrong. ‘I’ve never gotten a fifty in my life, Hermione’, ‘If these grades persist, your life will dramatically change, young lady’, ‘I always got straight A’s when I was in school, Hermione, I just thought that you were the same way. But your father and I still love you’. You see, I’m just a disappointment. To everyone!!! My teachers, my parents, and probably to you and Ron too. Why do I bother?”

Harry sat there in shock as Hermione spilled her heart out. How could she be so hard on herself? Bad grades aren’t the end of the world. Slowly, he held her out, and took her face in his hands so she had to look him in the eye.

“Hermione, I don’t know where on Earth you got that idea, but let me set you straight. You. Are. Not. Stupid. You’re not. You are the smartest person, except Dumbledore, that I’ve ever known. As for your your parents, I’m sure they don’t really think that you’re stupid. They’re probably just surprised since you’ve always gotten perfect scores before, and as for the teachers, don’t worry about them. They always expect too much anyway. And I know Ron can be git, but he’s never been disappointed by you.”

Hermione sniffed; her tears had stopped. Then she looked up into Harry’s deep-green eyes. “What about you?”

Harry turned his eyes away from the searching depths of chocolate that made up Hermione’s eyes. His body stiffened and he shifted rather uncomfortably. Still, her eyes searched. Releasing a deep breath, he turned back to her eyes. “In my eyes, Hermione, you’re perfect.”

Her eyes widened and her body went rigid. No, you stupid idiot, Harry doesn’t mean it like that; he’s just being a good friend. You’re too fat and ugly for anyone to like like you.

Painfully, Hermione’s eyes and body shifted so that she now faced away from Harry.

“No, I’m not, Harry. Quit lying. I know I’m ugly and fat. You don’t have to try to make me feel better.”

Once again, Harry could not believe that the words 'ugly' and 'fat' had come out of Hermione’s mouth. What thoughts have been going through her head?

Infuriated and astonished, Harry grabbed Hermione by the arms, and forced her to look at him.

“No, Hermione. If there is anything I know, it is this: You. Are. Not. Fat.”

“Yes, I am; all my clothes from last year are tight, I’m a size 11! Lavender and Parvati are both 3’s. I look like a blimp in everything I wear; I hate the way I look!”

“Don’t ever let me hear you say that again. I’m not entirely sure how girls’ sizes work, but I know for a fact that 11 isn’t big. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Lavender and Parvati starve themselves and puke up everything that they do eat. They look hollow and bony. Skeletons with skin, Hermione, is that what you want to look like? My God, how can you not see how beautiful you really are?”

Tears began to well in Hermione’s eyes again, but Harry’s grasp held her firm. Slowly, her mouth started to form the words “But I-”. But Harry cut her off.

“Just as you are. Just exactly how you are. Hermione, you’re perfect, whether or not you want to accept that, the truth remains. I see you as faultless.” Harry’s grip on Hermione loosened, and Harry turned away from her, speaking almost under his breath, “I don’t deserve for you to love me.”

This time, it was Hermione’s turn to make Harry eyes gaze into hers.

“Say that again.”

“I love you, Hermione. I don’t know if you already knew, and I certainly don’t expect you to love me back, but I know that the way I feel is love, and I’m not worthy of you.”

To this, Hermione acted upon her first impulse: she kissed him. Gently, innocently, but the fire his lips sent to hers filled her being with warmth. She didn’t want it to end, but she slowly pulled away to be met with sparkling, green eyes filled with an emotion Hermione had never seen there before.

“Hermione?”

The way Harry breathed her name, it sounded as if an epiphany had occurred within his body. His voice was barely there and what was there sounded low and husky, his eyes shone and revealed to Hermione emotions long pent up. His lips were still quivering, yearning to feel the fire once more. Hermione fell into his chest with Harry’s arms wrapped around her.

“I love you; you are beautiful and intelligent in ways that I almost don’t understand. You are perfect in my eyes just as you are. You are my completion.”

Hermione just stayed in his arms, tears soaking into his shirt. The door remained slightly ajar; someone could come in at any moment, but neither of them cared. They were too caught up in each other. Harry, in the fact that his love was not unrequited, she really was in his arms, crying into his shoulder, holding on to him. Hermione was mesmerised by the fact that Harry loved her; she wasn’t fat, she wasn’t stupid, at least, Harry didn’t think so. Somehow, in her mind, the rest didn’t really matter. The two stayed wrapped like that until Lavender and Parvati came into the room, where their jaws promptly hit the floor.

“Well!” Lavender said a little loudly, startling both Hermione and Harry, who jumped apart. “If I had known that Seamus and I could have gotten away with being up here, we would have never bothered with that stupid Astronomy Tower!”

Hermione blushed, but Harry just snaked an arm round her waist and kissed her cheek. “One of the many benefits of being Prefects; later ladies.” Then, Harry bent down, so he could whisper in Hermione’s ear, “I love you, and don’t you ever forget that.”

~*~Princess Fireball~*~