The Love Hexagon

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

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“You! You!” Natasha was shaking with fury as she hurriedly approached a depressed Hermione, who groaned and let her head drop onto the table at the sound of the girl's voice. This confirmed her worst fears: Harry must have kissed Natasha. Natasha pulled Hermione roughly by the arm and pushed her against one of the walls in a more secluded part of the library. “How could you lie like that!” Her whispers were fierce and made Hermione wince slightly. She had no strength or patience to argue over something as petty as her motives for lying; her mind was currently too horribly occupied with the image of Harry snogging someone who looked exactly like Hermione Granger, but who was not real. “How could you not tell me! He kissed me! Just like that! As though it was the most normal thing in the world! How could you not tell me you were with him! I told you about Blaise!”

“It was supposed to be a secret,” Hermione murmured, avoiding Natasha's gaze. It was bad enough that she wanted to double over and hurl, without being a victim of her very own Hermione Granger Death Glare. She now unfortunately knew exactly what everyone was talking about when they mentioned it.

“So? That's your best excuse? I'M YOU NOW!” There were shushing noises all throughout the library, and they managed to subside a little of Natasha's anger.

“Harry and I aren't really together,” Hermione began to explain tiredly, when Natasha pulled her once again and this time pushed her onto a chair, sitting down beside her, silently urging her to continue. “We're not really together.”

“Oh, you're snog buddies, then?” She seemed very interested, but that did the opposite of encouraging Hermione to go on. Having no other choice, however, she decided it would be best to divulge at least the most essencial parts of their relationship.

“No, we're not that. We do like each other, a lot, actually, we're in love,” she told, not being able to help a blush from creeping to her cheeks.

“So you're in love, the both of you,” she concluded with a bit of skepticism, crossing her arms while Hermione's face became even redder.

“You don't believe me?”

“I do... but I don't get it. You're in love, you make out regularly, you don't go out with other people, but you aren't together... nope, don't get it.” She stared at her with an open ridicularizing glare.

“It's complicated.”

“That's the first thing anyone notices after hearing you talk about it, Granger,” she said snappishly. “Is it because he's never called you his girlfriend?” Hermione gulped, noticing that the girl had reached the very heart of the problem without even knowing it. Yes, that was it. She couldn't very well call him her boyfriend until he did the equivalent, since she didn't want to appear as though she was forcing him into anything. And that, in her opinion, was what made them jealous of each other and turned their relationship into one in which there were no real strings attached.

“It's complicated,” she repeated, at loss of what else she could say.

“Oh, you really should come out with it, you know? So many girls like him, and you should do it so they'll back off,” she counseled sagely, and even though Hermione had sworn to herself that she'd never take advice from girls like Natasha, she paid close heed. “And those girls are close to him, too, they could get their dirty paws all over him, just like that Lavender Brown.”

“She doesn't like Harry,” she informed firmly, but Natasha, even firmier, shook her head.

“Yeah, she does. You didn't know, did you?” Hermione miserably sighed, covering her face with her hands while her mind was invaded by indignant thoughts of all of Lavender's and Parvati's encouragements for her to make things with Harry known to everyone. Why had Lavender been so helpful? Why hadn't she demonstrated her jealousy? And why was she believing Natasha's words when she could be very well lying!

“I don't believe you. She's my friend.”

“Not really, but, oh, well... are you jealous of me?” she asked curiously, making Hermione immediately suspicious. Had she enjoyed it?

“No, I'm not.”

“Yeah, you are. It's written all over your face.”

Hermione scoffed, but knew it was true. “You're seeing things.”

“Harry's a good kisser, isn't he?” How she did it, she would never found out, but one second she had been listening to Natasha's words and the second after that, she had managed to yank out her wand from her robes and press it so tightly to the girl's neck that she started to cough, the blood quickly being concentrated on the spot that made contact with the wood. “Oh, yeah, you're far from jealous.” She coughed once again before Hermione realized it was on her neck she was making a bruise, and retreated. “Ow... you're really harsh when you want to be. Wouldn't want you as my enemy.”

“Then stop kissing him!” she whispered, which sent Natasha into an apparent reverie mode. “What? What is it?”

“I've got it!” she exclaimed, and another round of sh's followed it. “Oh, shove it,” she muttered to the other students before turning excitedly to Hermione. “I'll ask for a break!”

“A break,” Hermione repeated unenthusiastically. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Since you aren't together, that normally wouldn't be needed, because you only ask for a break when you already have something to take a break from, but I can see that you two are together and just don't know it yet, so I'll ask him for a break and everything'll be fine,” she said in one breath, her eyes wide and demanding approval.

“What does 'a break' mean in this context?”

“The same that it does in all contexts, of course,” she answered as though it was the most obvious fact in the world. “It means you two will stop being together just for a little itty bit of time, then you'll go back.”

“Then he can go on dates with other girls if we're on a break,” Hermione concluded grimly, and Natasha, unwillingly almost, nodded.

“That's the only problem, but if you're really as in love as you seem, then he won't even think about going out with anyone else.” Sighing, Hermione weighed the risks before slowly nodding in agreement.

“I don't think he'll like it,” she mumbled, in reality trying to say what she felt: she was sure she was going to hate it, even if they were already 'on a break', although forcibly.

“No, he won't, but what's he going to do about it? I'll give the excuse that always works; that I need to sort myself out, to find out what I really want in life—“

“That won't work,” Hermione interrupted. “I know what I want in life, and Harry knows that. Tell him you just need the time to sort a few things out, but that it's got nothing to do with him or our relationship, and that we'll be back. Very, very soon.” Natasha smiled, apparently moved, but remained silent. Opening a book to resume her research, Hermione forced her mind to rest on the subject of Harry, and instead focused on what she tried, in vain, to read.

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Harry, sitting down on one of the couches of the Common Room, knew that he had no reason to worry about Hermione, but during that afternoon's break, she and her unusual behavior that day were all that occupied his mind. He had tried to kiss her, but she had seemed extremely shocked at first, paling and then groaning in frustration. Puzzled, he had tried to find out what was wrong, but she wouldn't tell him, assuring him in that strange new accent of hers that everything was fine. Then, she had kissed him, but so differently from how she usually did it that Harry had ended it a bit sooner than he had originally planned.

He never wanted her to change in anything—since the beginning of the year (and perhaps a lot sooner), Hermione had set the bar for perfection in his mind, so that he couldn't help comparing other girls to her, even if he knew no girl would come close to measuring up to her. Her beauty, her intellect, her personality and the way she spoke, acted, and thought all were perfect in his opinion, being exactly what he wanted her to be. The fact that she was apparently starting to change wasn't something he saw as good. He wanted her exactly the way she was; he loved her that way.

“Harry? Harry, you there?” Harry snapped out of his deep thinking and stared at a very agitated Ron as he sat down on the floor in front of him. “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?” he inquired, and Ron immediately shifted his eyes so he was looking anywhere but at Harry.

“I have to ask you something, and I want you to be really truthful, no matter what.”

“Okay, what?

“Do you think I've got a chance with Hermione?” For a few seconds, Harry was absolutely speechless. That is, until he was invaded by a protectiveness towards Hermione so great that it frightened him.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you know, the day after tomorrow is that double-date Ginny set up, and was wondering whether you think I should put the moves on her.” His fists were itching to come in contact with that freckled face, but he ignored it, like he ignored the growing empty feeling in his stomach that started when he realized that Ron was his best friend, and he had always wanted the best for him, and yet, all he wanted at that moment was for Ron to back off, to disappear from the planet so that he could never see Hermione again.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because you know her better than me, and you'd know this sort of thing.” Harry knew fear when he felt it, and he knew that he was starting to fear Ron's interest in Hermione. The truth was that Ron did have a chance, didn't he? After Harry, he was the person who most knew her, and she had been slightly jealous of him in some occasions, hadn't she? “So, do I or don't I?”

“Yeah, I think you do,” he muttered weakly, wishing Hermione was there to look at him and smile the way she did only to him, to assure him that she was his, and that there was no chance anyone else would ever have her.

“Good, good,” Ron said, so happy that Harry was becoming more miserable just by watching him.

“Harry, can I have a word with you?” It was Hermione's voice, and Harry turned his neck so quickly it hurt him. But something was different about her... her eyes weren't the same. As a matter of fact, her eyes hadn't quite sparkled the way they usually did since that morning, but now it was more visible than ever. She was looking at him with pity, and it made Harry's heart sink very, very low. Something told him that whatever she wanted to say wouldn't be very good.

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Hermione had no appetite that evening. The day had been horrible, and the prospect of living another twenty-four hours in the same condition increased her grumpiness. Nothing. That's what they had found about body exchanges in their first day of research. Hope that they'd have better luck the next day was all that kept Hermione swallowing spoonfuls of the tomato soup she was eating. She used her fork to play with a large, floating slice of tomato before putting it in her mouth and chewing it with all the enthusiasm of someone forced to clean a dirty restroom. Her thoughts wandered to Harry and his absence from dinner that evening, and she wondered with worry whether he'd understand her supposed need to “sort things out”.

“What's the matter, Natasha?” Malfoy sympathetically asked her as Blaise sat down beside her and kissed her cheek, throwing an arm around her shoulder.

“Everything swell?” the dark-haired boy inquired with no real interest, as though already sure that the answer would be yes.

“I'm fine, thanks,” she answered with a sigh. Feeling a small discomfort, she cleared her throat before downing a bit of her juice.

“Can I talk to her alone, Zabini?” Malfoy had a very rare ability to demand something and make it sound as though he was kindly asking it, and Hermione had never appreciated it more. Zabini took the hint and left, planting a kiss on her lips before trotting off. “What is it? You're strange... actually, you've been strange all day. Care to tell me what's on your mind?” She wanted him to shut up so she could remain hating him, but dryly telling herself that she wouldn't want to ruin Natasha's friendships, she instead kept her mouth shut. “Not too chatty today, eh? That's fine, really. I wanted to know whether it was Blaise's fault. Like I told you, sometimes he overdoes it.”

“It's nothing, Ma—Draco. I really am fine, but thank you for your concern.” She felt something prickle her throat, and once again had to clear it before drinking some more of her juice.

“I have got to find out how you managed to get a British accent so suddenly. And it's perfect, you know? Almost as though you've lived here all your life.” Hermione knew now that something had to be wrong. Her throat was tightening and she felt as though she was going to throw up. “I thought you were allergic to tomatoes... oh, well. Must be someone else.”

Hermione shot up from her chair and started to run to the Gryffindor table, panic-stricken while simultaneously so dizzy she almost fell. Oh, Merlin... her vision was becoming blurrier and darker, and her body was trembling, and it felt as though someone was strangling her with fierce hands, and she was going to faint at any minute... it was a surprise that she managed to reach the seat where Natasha had lodged herself. “I've just...” she had to stop mid-sentence to cough, but not before she caught a glimpse of Natasha's horrified expression.

“You've just eaten something with tomatoes in them! We have to go to the nurse! Now!” She started to pull Hermione's arm after having dispensed the help some students had offered. “How could you eat them! I'm allergic!” Hermione wanted to yell back that she hadn't exactly told her that particular (and very important) piece of information. “You're going to start feeling as though someone is socking you repeatedly in the stomach, but ignore it, okay? We're getting to the Hospital Wing.” Just as they hurriedly turned in one of the halls, Hermione felt precisely what Natasha had forewarned, and tried to ignore it, but couldn't. She doubled over and gasped with pain. Not being allergic to anything, Hermione had never known allergic reactions could be that damaging. “Lord... if that redness stays in my face forever, I'm going to kill myself. Let's go, just try to breathe.”

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It took Hermione an entire night to get well. Taking potions every hour or so, her stomach was thoroughly sick, but at least the allergic reaction had been contained. Sleep had only come when the sun was about to rise, and so, she was able to rest for only a few hours before waking up to get to her classes. Madam Pomfrey had insisted that she stay the morning to reassure her recovery, but Hermione had in turn insisted to return to her studies. Now, after an entire day of studying, she met up with Natasha in the library in order to continue their research on their condition. One thing, however, she still had to clarify with the girl, because they hadn't had the time to speak of it: how had been the talk with Harry about taking the so-called 'break'.

“So, how was the talk with Harry yesterday?” Hermione asked anxiously, shifting on her chair while starting to become unnerved by the girl's frown. The library was now almost empty, save a few scattered students.

“Oh, it was all right. He accepted it fine, but he looked worried,” she answered with a shrug.

“By the way, today Daphne found an album of yours, and was leafing through it when I arrived after lunch. I snatched it from her grasp, of course. It looks very private.” Hermione handed her a rather large, heavy book whose black cover was smooth and leathery, shining as though it had been recently polished.

Upset, Natasha hugged it to herself and sighed. “She didn't 'find' it by accident. She must've gone through all my stuff to find this, because I hid it from her. I don't mind showing it to you, you'll get to know me a lot better.”

“I'll be glad to see it, then.” Sitting down beside her, Natasha placed the book in front of them, and she couldn't help smiling when the girl nervously opened the first page. It was a muggle picture of her and David in what looked like a stage. “This is an album I keep of the life I used to have in America. I came here but I didn't want to forget everything that happened there, you know?” She turned another page and this one was of a baby Natasha sitting beside a toddler Viktor. “Viktor is cute, isn't he?” She turned more and more pages, explaning various aspects of her life while commentating each photo. Except (and this didn't surprise Hermione) for the ones where David appeared.

On one page was a strange certificate that read “Cutest Couple of the Year', and its title immediately sparked curiosity inside her. “What's this?”

“It was a joke, I think,” she murmured with a blush creeping to her cheeks. “David used to do all these polls, which I thought were really ridiculous, but he did them anyway, like that Queen of the House one. He did one just like it back in Salem. I won, by the way, so you can be glad you got a good-looking body at least,” she said, staring at the certificate with a fond smile. “And then, his friends decided to do a poll of their own, which they knew we were going to win. We won with more than ninety percent, can you believe it? The whole school voted, and we won the title. Kind of nice, isn't it?”

“Why did it end?” she asked, and Natasha stopped to apparently contemplate the table in front of them.

“I don't know. He was the one who ended it, not me. I had been thinking it was all going fine, but then one day he just came to me and told me that it was over, and he didn't even tell me why,” she told with a hurt scowl. “I came here because I didn't want to be in the same school as him; I thought he was staying in Salem. As you can see, that didn't really work out,” she muttered. “I couldn't even put up with him when we met, and now... if it wasn't for that stupid play...”

“If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine,” Hermione reassured, but the girl turned to her with a frown, licking her lips as though not sure of what to say.

“You know, I haven't exactly... fit in since I came,” a careful Natasha began, clearly choosing her words. “I think you noticed. I don't really have any friends, you know? Not Pansy Pankinson, not Tracey Davis, and definitely not Daphne Greengrass, because she hates me. Every girl in Slytherin seems to not like me, and I don't even know what I did,” Natasha said with disbelief. “It's just so sucky, the way they treat me... I only have guy friends, like Draco and Blaise.” Hermione felt pity rise inside her, because she knew what that felt like due to her first year at Hogwarts. “And then all of this happened,” she continued, pointing to their bodies, “and I feel like we're friends, even though we're not.” Hermione was going to say something, anything that could comfort the girl, but she continued before she could do so. “And I'm not very good with any kind of relationship, I mess up everything. So far you've been exactly the Natasha I wish I was, and I'm being the Hermione Granger everyone can't stand, the Hermione Granger from hell, you could say,” Hermione forced out a chuckle, but remained silent. “So this is why I keep telling you all of these things about my life, why I'm like a chatterbox with you. It's because I can't be that with anyone else.”

“Though we started out horribly, I think that with time, we may become friends,” Hermione confessed, while Natasha stared at her expectantly with her anxious eyes.

“I, uh... have I mentioned I'm not good with any friendships I have?” Hermione nodded, and she nervously continued. “I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow, at the date with Ronald, but I don't want to mess up anymore.”

“I don't know what you're going to do either,” Hermione admitted. “But I trust you will manage to not wreck havoc.”

“By the way, you're going to spend tomorrow with Draco,” Natasha informed to Hermione's chagrin. “No, you can't back out now. He's your best friend, so you have to go, and I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun.”

“I hate him,” Hermione said unemotionally.

“Not anymore, because you aren't you,” the girl explained paciently. “You are me. And besides, he's really nice if you get to know him. I'm the one with the big problem. I have to pretend to like that skank Ginny Weasley,” she huffed indignantly. “She's such a bi—“

“No, she's not,” Hermione interrupted, knowing exactly what the girl had intended to say. “She's your friend,” she added, sounding less confident about her words than she had meant to.

“You don't sound all that sure when you say you two are friends.”

“She likes Harry,” she told simply, and Natasha frowned.

“How can you not be totally green with jealousy?” the girl asked, completely bewildered. “You let all those girls get close to him like that, and I just would never do that if it was me.”

“I am jealous sometimes, but I just don't act on such impulses,” she countered with a raised eyebrow.

“I can see I'm talking to Ms. Control herself.” With that annoyed murmur, she turned to a book Hermione had been reading about Transfiguration. “'Transfiguration for Almost-Squibs'...” she read, then sputtered as though offended. “How can you read that in public! It's my image you're burning to ashes!” She seized the book before Hermione could do anything about it and packed it in her bookbag. “We'll read it when no one else is near, okay? Not where everyone can see you, or should I say, see me? Like I'd be caught dead reading something that calls me an almost-squib...” she muttered grumpily.

“Fine, fine. And have you done your homework from yesterday, the one I gave to you on the goblin rebellions of the seventeenth century?” Hermione inquired, opening a Divination textbook that she had decided to read in case she was stuck in Natasha's body long enough for Firenze to hand out his biweekly tests.

“Yeah, I did it. It's really amazing that I did, since it's due on Monday,” the girl said, handing Hermione a piece of parchment. “I had the whole weekend to do it and I did it the day it was handed out... you're rubbing off on me, and this is still our second day,” Natasha whined with a pout. “Something's wrong with me, I swear... I was studying Arithmancy this morning in your first class and I wasn't falling asleep like I should have been; I was actually interested!” She threw her arms up in exasperation. “I mean, come on! What have I become?”

“I can't see what's so horribly shocking about it. Arithmancy is a fascinating subject,” Hermione stated confidently, fondly recalling her studies. “It's quite pitiful that you don't take it. It can be very diverting sometimes.”

“Not for normal people, it isn't. You're the only student in there who isn't in Ravenclaw, in case you haven't noticed.”

“And?” She absently turned a page, scanning the page while wondering why in the world someone had to invent the horrid subject of Divination. There was no clear logic, no assurance of its effectiveness...

“And they're a bunch of nerdy freaks. You're just like them, except that you're much nicer to talk to,” Natasha grudgingly complimented, staring at Hermione's book with vague disgust. “I don't think you should go around carrying books that heavy.”

“It's not that heavy... you just aren't used to carrying books heavier than a slice of toast,” she murmured in response, turning another page and becoming very absorbed in what she was reading while tuning out Natasha's babble.Transfiguration was such an easy subject... she wondered why people complained so much... and some even failed it... it was so fascinating, so—

“... and then I slept with Harry,” Natasha affirmed after a minute, and Hermione looked up so quickly she felt her neck hurt.

“Excuse me?”she whispered, her breath caught in her throat.

“I'm kidding, Granger,” Natasha assured with a laugh. “You weren't listening to a thing I was saying.”

“I usually don't when I'm concentrated on my reading,” she answered, unwillingly letting out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. “What were you speaking of?”

“About school, mostly, and how annoying some of the Gryffindor girls are.”

“Slytherin girls are not exactly candidates to win anything in the sympathy department,” Hermione retorted with a raised eyebrow, at the same time that her gaze fell on a rather odd photo of an elevator that was suspended in midair in what looked like a classroom. “What is that?” she asked, pointing to it.

“We were studying boggarts, and mine became a closet,” she replied, pursing her lips. Hermione thought it strange that someone's greatest fear would be an closet, but decided not to comment. Natasha looked as though she was about to add something, but at that moment, David and Parvati approached them together.

“I want to talk to you, Natasha,” David informed, then added, “and Parvati to Hermione.” Distracted, Hermione walked to Parvati and stared at her expectantly. The girl's raised eyebrow was the slap that made her realize her mistake. Her eyes snapped to the real Natasha, who had apparently made the same mistake.

“Are you deaf?” a slightly irritated David said, looking at who he thought was Natasha. “I said I want to talk to you,” he repeated. Hermione was going to answer when the real Natasha spoke.

“And are you stupid? I am Natasha,” she said, and Hermione pressed her lips together hard, trying very hard not to roll her eyes when she captured David and Parvati's looks of confusion and raised eyebrows. With a sigh, Hermione pulled Natasha by the shoulders and traded places with her.

“She was joking,” Hermione explained with a forced smile, glaring at a sheepish Natasha for making her look like a madwoman before their two friends.

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“First off, I want to ask you if you're all right,” David began after having led her to a part of the library where they were alone and surrounded by books about Potions. “I can't believe you forgot you were allergic to tomatoes.”

“Oh, that... true, it was very careless of me,” Hermione admitted uncomfortably. How could anyone forget they had a lifetime allergy to something?

“And second...” he continued, his gaze hardening and becoming much more hostile. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it, resigned. “It's nothing. Sorry.”

“No, it's fine. Is that all?”

“How did you and Hermione become friends?” he asked with bewilderment.

“Well,” Hermione began with her mind racing for answers. It had been more than a day since their accident and she and Natasha hadn't talked about what excuses they would give for their sudden changes in personalities and of course, how two former almost-enemies, Gryffindor and Slytherin, had managed to forge a friendship. “We have a lot in common, you said it yourself,” she responded, recalling the day she and Harry had eavesdropped on him and Natasha back in Viktor's mansion.

“Yeah, but not enough to be this glued together since that day you two were partners in Transfiguration. And I heard you telling her to shove her wand up where the sun don't shine, exact words,” he replied with amusement.

“We saw that our differences did nothing to outweigh our similarities,” Hermione nervously said before realizing that Natasha would never use those words. Let him believe it, let him believe it...

“One day of friendship and even your vocabulary has improved. You gotta love Hermione,” he smiled to Hermione's relief. “I just hope you don't influence her the wrong way, Natasha. We both know you're too impulsive and careless.”

“Oh, but Hermione isn't at all susceptible to such influences directly upon her personality,” Hermione informed, not pleased with his opinion that Hermione Granger was vulnerable to outside influences on her psyche.

“'Susceptible'? Did Hermione make you read the thesaurus?” he joked with a laugh that made Hermione gulp. I have got to stop using words Natasha wouldn't use...

“Oh, you know... you pick up words here and there...”

“And what of the accent? You used to hate British accents, I couldn't imagine you speaking like the brits.” To that, Hermione did not have a confident answer. “But anyway, I'm going to go talk to Hermione about a few things, so see you later.” They silently trotted to her original place, and Hermione saw that Natasha was looking very irritated, angrily muttering under her breath. “Hermione, can I talk to you?” Natasha looked up to meet his eyes and was instantly (and obviously) momentarily relieved of her fury.

“Sure. Where?” David courteously led her out of the library, and Hermione hoped to dear God that Natasha wasn't overtaken by any impulses to kiss David.

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“I just wanted to warn you about a few things concerning your friendship with Natasha,” David said, still slightly amused by his talk with Natasha a few moments before. That amusement was replaced by nervousness—something he rarely felt—when he noticed just to where Hermione had taken him to. When he'd asked her where she wished to have a chat with him, she'd suggested a walk around the lake, and now, doing what she suggested, he had noticed just how “couply” it all was. Walks around the lake were something you did with someone you fancied, not a friend. If even he, a boy, knew that; Hermione had to know it also.

“What about it?” she asked with a tinge of impatience.

“Well, do you not worry that you may be influenced by her? Negatively?”

“Of course not!” she exclaimed, stopping in her tracks and indignantly crossing her arms over her chest. “Who do you think she is?” David was surprised. Natasha herself hadn't acted aggressively to his remark about bad influence, and now Hermione was?

“She's Natasha Krum, which means she's... peculiar in ways she shouldn't be,” he said carefully, and watched with surprise as Hermione's eyebrow shot up high on her forehead.

“Oh, really? How so?”

“It's a family thing, Hermione,” he told her with an understanding smile. He could tell she was upset with his warning, and admired the girl's protectiveness towards her newest friendship. “Do you have any idea how rich the Krums are?”

“Yes, I am. And?”

“And growing up with that much money makes you age thinking you can buy happiness, love, the world, and everything else,” he told with exasperation, and Hermione's chin dropped. “I'm not criticizing rich people, of course.”

“Like you can say anything about growing up with money,” she snapped, and he frowned.

“How can you know anything about my family's finances?”

“I don't...” she murmured, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “I'm guessing...”

“Anyway,” he continued with a sigh, “I know you're got quite a fortune, too—“

“Really?” she asked with an almost fascinated smile, but it immediately disappeared as she tried to correct her statement. “I mean, I was just... I was just surprised you knew.” David decided that if he was to let his mind linger too much on everything strange Hermione was doing, he'd probably not be able to process everything, so he desisted.

“As I was saying, she grew up so spoiled that she's become the most impulsive person you'll ever meet, and—”

“I thought you liked impulsive people,” she said angrily, and David was tempted to ask how she knew that.

“I do, but it doesn't mean it's good to be impulsive. If you knew Natasha well, you'd know she's done a lot of wrong things because at that moment, she felt like it,” he said with a small amount of irritation seeping into his voice as he remembered a few particular moments when Natasha's impulsiveness had landed him in trouble. “She'd walk around naked in the school if she ever fancied doing that.”

“No, she wouldn't,” Hermione denied firmly. “You think so because you obviously don't know her, at least not as well as you think.”

“What makes you think you know her so much better than me? Let me tell you something, Hermione. She and I have a history, we were together once,” he revealed, lacking any ideas as to what to say. He had never planned to tell her any of that, but she was being so stubborn he felt he didn't have a choice. “She's always careless, and rash, and she never thinks about anything she does, she just does everything because she wants to, and she's been through so much trouble because of that, it's a wonder she hasn't learned her lesson yet!” After his last statement, her eyes became a little more bright as though misty, and immediately he recoiled a bit. Her behavior was beyond odd. It was downright freakish.

“Is that what you really think of her?” she whispered, and he nodded. “That's what everyone thinks of her, isn't it?”

“Yes, but...” he had no idea why, but he felt he had to console Hermione for speaking badly of Natasha. “People like her the way she is. I like her the way she is,” he said, and she looked at him with surprise.

“Yeah, I think it's nice of her to want to be different like that. I just don't think she acts wisely sometimes.”

“So you don't hate her?” He licked his lips with uneasiness. The subject of Natasha wasn't one he liked to broach, but Hermione's eyes were wide with hope and expectations.

“No, I don't. But I don't want to talk about that,” he said, letting his voice only hint his inner discomfort. Turning on his heels, he guided her back to the castle, longing to be silent but at the same time, wishing Hermione would speak more so he could finally determine the reasons for her sudden change.

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“Why were you in a bad mood when I came back from my conversation with David this afternoon?” Hermione asked Natasha as they walked to the library that evening after their studies. Having eaten their dinners with haste, they were hurriedly walking to the library to check out a few more books that could help them with their accident, and were afraid the place had already been closed.

“That totally good-for-nothing Parvati Patil was bugging me because I didn't go to some kind of meeting for the Hogwarts Times, something to do with editing gossip,” she murmured bad-humoredly. “Don't tell me you're part of the gossip column.”

“I am... I thought you knew,” Hermione affirmed with dismay. “I thought everyone in Hogwarts knew by now. By the number of hate letters I receive every week...”

“Oh, so that's what she was talking about!” a relieved Natasha said, “she kept telling me something about how she had to read all my mail, and how there was one with some kind of powder that made her hand get pimples.”

“Oh, Merlin... we have to get to the library in about five minutes, so we have to race,” Hermione recommended, and just as they had started to run, Natasha stopped and pulled Hermione by the sleeve.

“I think something just bit me,” she complained, supporting herself with one hand on Hermione's shoulder while examining one of her raised feet with the other hand. “Ouch... it must be a rock inside my shoe...” Concerned that it was something more serious, Hermione tried to help, but ended up almost making the girl fall. “Can't you keep still?”

“I was trying to help you see what's wrong,” Hermione snapped, offended by what she judged to be a display of ungratefulness.

“Yeah, well, I'd rather use the wall, thank you very much.” She moved closer to the wall lit only by a few torches, and Hermione sighed.

“You know, the walls here in this particular hall are a bit tricky. If you touch the wrong spot, they can open up and there is the possibility that you'll fall into one of the hidden rooms that lead to the lower floor, according to Hogwarts, a History,” she explained, and the girl scoffed.

“Excuse me, but my luck isn't that bad.” She extended a hand to support herself against a wall at the same time that Hermione grabbed her sleeve to prevent her from doing so. Just as the girl touched one of the stones, it disappeared, and a blink later, the wall had opened up. Natasha, lacking equilibrium, was immediately swallowed by the darkness, and with her, went a horrified Hermione who hadn't had time to let go of the girl's sleeve.

Falling on her legs and slamming against a wall, Hermione found herself trapped in a rather small but very dark room, which seemed to be lit only by moonlight coming from a very high window that didn't provide much light. By the stench and numerous spiderwebs, she could tell that no one had been in the room for quite some time. Her eyes wandered to the spot where she deduced they had fallen through, but there was no opening. In fact, the room was small enough for her to turn her body completely and see that there was no way through which they could exit.

“Oh, no...” Natasha whispered behind her, taking a step back and away from Hermione's body, her back meeting the wall. “Oh, no...” she repeated, and Hermione wished her eyes were already accustomed to the darkness so she could see if Natasha's face was as mortified as her voice.

“Where are we?” Hermione asked with slightly amused curiosity, even though she knew Natasha did not have the answer. Somehow, something in Hermione was telling her that they wouldn't be trapped there for long, and that reassured her, keeping her much calmer than what Natasha seemed to be. Hermione stretched her arms to discover just how small the room was, and wasn't surprised to find out that it wasn't even large enough for her to stretch them completely. Knowing that the stone she had to press for them to get out had to be near and guessing it'd be located not too high up or low down, and also feeling fortunate that a room of that size would allow them to find the said stone quickly, she used her touch to feel around her surroundings (also being helped by her now improved eyesight in the dark), and only stopped her search when she heard hushed whimpers coming from Natasha behind her. Turning, she was horrified to see the girl's face extremely pale and covered by small drops of sweat; her white uniform shirt plastered to her body. She had her eyes closed and was murmuring something Hermione had to lean in to understand.

“Y—you're in a meadow... in a wide meadow...” she whispered with bone-chilling desperation, and a large bead of sweat or tears rolled down her cheek. “Plenty of—of air... p—plenty of space... meadow... space... therapy... space...” she trailed off, so pale that the veins of her face were visible. Hermione was paralyzed with shock, her mind recalling with panic their conversation a few hours before: “We were studying boggarts, and mine became a closet.” Of course. How could she not have seen it? Natasha was claustrophobic!

Abruptly, the girl opened two bloodshot eyes. “Get me out of here,” she begged in a barely-audible whisper. Instantly, Hermione was snapped to her senses and started to quickly search for a way out, her hands roaming the walls with terrified haste. A moment later, Natasha started to tremble so much her elbows were drumming the wall beside her and also Hermione's back. “Space.. a—air...” Hermione sped up her search, biting her lip while trying to ignore the girl's ragged, labored pants. The air in the room seemed to have decreased significantly, and Hermione felt the heat plague her body and cause it to perspire. She swallowed hard when Natasha's breathing became even more irregular, and suddenly, that voice inside her head that was reassuring her that they'd soon be out, disappeared, leaving only a buzzing sound. Now she was filled with doubts as she remembered that there had indeed been a case of someone being trapped inside one of Hogwart's hidden rooms for a few hours before a special instrument in the Headmaster's office had alarmed the man about it. Hermione could wait a few hours, but she was certain that Natasha couldn't.

Hermione had barely finished that thought when she heard Natasha's breathing stop, and just as panic made her turn to check the girl's condition, she felt the girl's body fall into her arms, its weight making her legs falter a bit. Natasha had just fainted.

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A/N: Long chapter, but I hope it was fun to read. Please review, and have a good week, everyone!