Jigsaw Puzzle

"I never realized how difficult this is," muttered Hermione, rubbing furiously with an eraser on the pencil drawing in front of her, glancing around to see how everyone else was doing. Seamus Finnigan, of course, was scribbling away happily, but Hermione was glad to see that many people seemed as frustrated as she was. They were drawing a still life, just bottles and pieces of fruit and such. It couldn't have been much simpler, but the bottles in front of Hermione never seemed to look the right width when she put them on paper, and finding the different values in the objects wasn't nearly as easy as the teacher, Professor Elwood, made it out to be.

"Having trouble, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Elwood kindly as she came by Hermione's table.

Professor Elwood was about Professor McGonagall's age, with long, straight, glistening white hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her round face was a kind one, with lines on it from the many smiles she had smiled in past years. Though wrinkled and slightly plump around the middle now, she had obviously been beautiful when she was young. She still was, but in a different way than the beauty of youth. She wore a sky-blue robe that was very long and flowing, with a matching beaded necklace and hat.

"I can't seem to get these bottles the right shape," Hermione told Professor Elwood.

"Are you familiar with the pencil?"

"Yes, I'm Muggle-born, ma'm." Hermione wasn't quite sure why she called Professor Elwood "ma'm." She never called people that. Somehow, though, Professor Elwood just seemed the kind of person that you called "ma'm." Perhaps it was something about her manner, something about how gracefully she moved, how her dark brown eyes spoke of wisdom, show she always held her head high, but whatever the reason, "Ma'm" fit her better than "Professor."

"Just not that artistic, are you, Miss Granger?"

"No, ma'm."

"Well," replied Professor Elwood, "Maybe that will change." She brought out a piece of paper and proceeded to show Hermione how to draw the bottles. Hermione noticed that her fingernails were sky-blue like her robe and hat. "Will that help you, Miss Granger?"

"Maybe. Thank you, ma'm."

"You're welcome." Professor Elwood moved towards the table at which Harry and Ron were seated. "How are you coming along, Mr. Weasley?" she said, peering at Ron's paper.

"I dunno," said Ron. "It's not-"

"Why, This is wonderful, Mr. Weasley! You have some real talent!" exclaimed Professor Elwood, loud enough for the whole class to hear.

Hermione looked up from her own slightly pathetic picture and stared over at Ron. Was Professor Elwood simply being nice? Was Ron, of all people, a talented artist?

Ron's ears went red. "I-it's not that good, Professor," he stammered. "You're just saying that."

"It is so, Mr. Weasley. Do you draw often?"

"N-no...I-I've never drawn anything..."

"That's very surprising. Many people can draw for years and not be very good. You're a natural. I encourage you to keep it up."

"I-I...er...Okay," said Ron, looking embarrassed and confused.

Hermione smiled. It was wonderful that Ron had finally found something he was good at. She couldn't wait to congratulate him...but just as she was about to try and catch his eye to smile at him, she remembered that he was still angry with her...Her smile faded. Ron looked in her direction, and she quickly looked down at her drawing again. Just the day before, she had been furious with him, but suddenly, she found that she wasn't angry at all. "He's who started that argument, though," she thought. "Let him be the first to apologize."

"What had that argument been about?" thought Hermione as she searched the shelves of he Hogwarts Library for the book she was to read in literature class. "Love Potions and Lies," she muttered as she found it and pulled it from the shelf. "It sure doesn't sound like a classic. It sounds like a stupid paperback romance novel..." She checked out the book with Madam Pince and then sat in a corner, taking out her homework.

"Oh yes, the argument was about Viktor Krum, of course," Hermione remembered as she smoothed out a piece of parchment. "I don't know what Ron's hang-up about him is..."

Ron was in another corner of the library, reading something. This struck Hermione as very odd. Even if it was for homework it would be odd, because Ron always put off his homework, but there was no quill or parchment in sight. Even more odd was that Ron seemed quite absorbed in what he was reading, his brow furrowed slightly. "If he weren't still angry with me, I'd ask," thought Hermione, looking up from her work now and then to glance in Ron's direction.

Hermione sat by herself at dinner, reading "Love Potions and Lies," which she'd started to read earlier. The main characters were Ellen Whitcomb and Nathan Lisle, a seventeen-year-old witch and wizard at a boarding school much like Hogwarts.

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"What does it matter to you if I love Andrew, Nathan!" scoffed Ellen. "It is not your concern!"

"I...I-I..." Nathan stammered, struggling to come up with something. "He...I..."

"You don't know, do you? You don't know! If you must meddle in my affairs, Nathan, you should at least have a reason!"

"I...You..." Nathan stammered, blushing slightly.

"Stop wasting my time, Nathan! I have things to do, you know!" With that Ellen turned and began to walk away. Nathan longed to call after her, to confess everything...but what would she do if she knew? She would probably just stare at him like he was crazy...or even laugh...Whatever she did, she would certainly never say that she felt the same way...and his heart would be broken--that is, more broken that it already was.

Jealousy and hatred of Andrew filled Nathan. He had stolen Ellen from him...

"No," Nathan thought bitterly, "not stolen. Something can't be stolen that was never mine."

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"They'll end up together, of course," thought Hermione. "It's obvious in stories like these, who's going to end up--" She gasped as a thought struck her. Ellen and Nathan were an awful lot like her and Ron...That argument was certainly very familiar...

"It's just a book," thought Hermione quickly.