Presently Forgotten

I shall forget you presently, my dear,

If Anyone asked Someone where one might find the most brilliant and blindingly ambitious student in all of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Someone would chuckle and tell Anyone, "You mean Hermione Granger, of course. As long as any shred of decency remains in this world, you'll be finding her in the library." At least that is what Someone would have Anyone believe, and, on this particular occasion, Someone was entirely correct.

At that exact moment, Miss Hermione Granger was, indeed, in the library, sitting at her usual table in her usual section with her usual pile of books spread out before her in their usually studious manner. To the casual observer, she would have appeared to be intently studying the insanely thick volume she currently held in her hands; however, Hermione engaged herself in something very unusual, indeed.

The words on the page in front of her were behaving strangely. Instead of crisply presenting themselves in an orderly fashion as they marched into her memory, they swam about in her pool of vision, drifting idly and going nowhere near her memory. Oddly enough, Hermione only vaguely noticed the misbehavior of those words because her mind, incredibly, was entirely somewhere else or, more specifically, on someone else.

So make the most of this, your little day,

Your little month, your little half a year,

Considering her intense focus on intellectual pursuits and her immense dedication to keeping her friends out of trouble, it was not the least bit surprising that Hermione had little time to invest in her love life. After her short-lived juvenile fling with Viktor Krum during her fourth year, she experienced something of a dry spell, what with the disruptive event of Voldemort's return and all. The wizarding world faced its darkest trials leading to the Dark Lord's eventual downfall, and Hermione had little time to think of school, much less love.

One day, everything changed. Voldemort met his grisly end. The wizarding world rejoiced in its triumph over bigotry and evil while mourning for its fallen children. The days seemed brighter, the nights darker. Facing certain death had a way of altering perspectives, so it felt perfectly natural and meant-to-be when she and Ron Weasley began moving their relationship from close friendship to that particular gray area of uncertainty which lay beyond. Their relationship progressed easily and steadily as romances between friends tend to do.

Hermione felt complete as her life reached a nearly blissful state. Hogwarts returned to normal, if not better, and she continued to excel in her studies while she and Ron ventured into physical and emotional territories the depths of which she had never experienced before. The intensity of the love she saw growing between them and the excitement of the new sensations she now experienced effectively blinded her to all but that which she wanted to see. Then, something ripped the blinders from her eyes, and the world as she had come to know it came crashing down around her.

Ere I forget, or die, or move away,

And we are done forever; by and by

Love found her in a most precarious position. Or, rather, it found her beloved Ron in a treacherous position. Upon spying Ron in the distance and with the purely innocent intention of surprising her sweetheart with a midday tryst, Hermione discretely followed him to an unused classroom near the dungeon levels of Hogwarts.

It never occurred to her to wonder what reason he may have had to venture to such a secret location until she heard a sound through the abandoned classroom's door just as she reached to open it. At first, she only heard Ron's low voice murmuring indistinctly, but it was soon interrupted by the high pitched giggling of another person in the room. It gave her pause enough to stop and listen for a moment. A brief moment of silence was followed by an all too familiar and very telling noise that made her heart leap into her throat.

One of Ron's more endearing traits, Hermione had discovered since their relationship began, was the sound he made in the back of his throat, a sort of half-grunting and half-moaning, when he made love to her. And it was this sound she heard emanating from behind the classroom door. She nearly turned and ran, not wanting to face the scene she knew she would find, but her self-respect held her in place as she numbly reached for the door and threw it open.

I shall forget you, as I said, but now,

If you entreat me with your loveliest lie

I will protest you with my favorite vow.

A girl Hermione only recognized as a sixth year Ravenclaw with breasts that could have been obtained only through magical means gasped and unsuccessfully tried to pull her skirt back down as Ron rolled off of her. He desperately fumbled with his robes, trying to conceal his guilt. His face drained of all color, and Hermione fleetingly noticed it made his hair look much redder than usual.

She felt her face burn with outrage and betrayal as Ron opened his mouth to speak without finding any words. A solitary tear slid down her cheek, and he looked away.

"Hermione, I...er..."

Hermione trembled with anger and spoke in a low voice, barely above a whisper, "How? How could you?"

The girl moved to say something, but one look from Hermione silenced her. Ron shifted uncomfortably on his feet and cleared his throat but said nothing.

After what felt like an eternity, Hermione knew she could control herself no longer. She turned with a swirl of her robes and fled. As soon as she left their line of sight, she ran. She ran through the halls, not recognizing which they were. She ran up the stairways until she felt the tears in her throat give way to the burning in her lungs.

I would indeed that love were longer-lived,

And oaths were not so brittle as they are,

She stopped in front of a set of familiar doors and nearly bowled over a group of first years. Hermione pushed them aside and stepped through the doors. The comforting, warm scent of old books washed over her and began to softly soothe her aching heart. Ignoring the odd looks, she retreated to the sanctuary of her table.

And it was her table. Buried back among the bookshelves, receiving just the right amount of light, her table welcomed her with open arms. The solitude wrapped around her like a blanket. No other students would venture back into Hermione's corner. It was hers. Everyone knew, and no one questioned.

So at her table she sat, staring blindly at her book. Behind her red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks, her mind spun as she tried to understand what had just happened. It felt too strange to have been real, but she knew what she had witnessed. Ron had betrayed her, cheated on her, and used her. Ron fucked a Ravenclaw, and Merlin knows who else.

A curious feeling swept over her. Inferiority. Stupidity. Hermione berated herself for having been so blind. She should have known, shouldn't she have? Could she have? A new thought took form in her mind. No, she couldn't have known. She trusted him. She loved him.

But so it is, and nature has contrived

To struggle on without a break thus far, -

Hermione glanced up to see Ron, still pale, walk past the last bookshelf and toward her table. She forced herself to breathe normally and very calmly shut her book and placed it on the table in front of her. Ron paused as he reached her and appeared to try to say something but, instead, looked down and traced the edge of the table with his finger. Hermione sat back and folded her arms, all the while fighting the urge to scream at him. She waited.

Ron finally looked up at her, guilt written plainly on his face. Hermione felt a stabbing pain in her heart that threatened to bring back the tears. She choked them back and looked at Ron through narrowed eyes. Still, she waited.

At long last, he spoke. "Hermione, I...er..." He looked to her for assistance, but she gave no sign of encouragement. "Let me explain...er...you see..."

Hermione cocked her head to one side and raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

Ron cleared his throat. "The thing is...I..."

"I don't want to hear it." Hermione pressed her lips together.

Ron looked confused. "What? No, I, um, want to, er, explain."

Hermione shook her head. "No."

"Hermione, you have to give me a chance to..."

"No, I don't." Hermione studied him in his stunned silence. "Get away from me." She turned her attention toward the stack of books in front of her.

"Merlin's nightgown, Hermione, you have to hear me out!" Ron raised his voice and moved in toward her.

Hermione put her arms up to block him and spoke coldly and emphatically, "Don't you touch me. Don't you touch me ever again."

Whether or not we find what we are seeking

Is idle, biologically speaking.

"Fuck, Hermione!"

"No. Fuck you, Ron."