The Love Hexagon

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, only this story. Oh, and the eventual lack of creativity is all mine, too.

David, with a fond smile, watched Hermione descend the North Tower and walk towards their Common Room. She was dragging her feet, discouraged, not looking tired, but frustrated. He felt an urge to talk to her, or perhaps even walk her to the Common Room, and, never one to dismiss an urge, he approached her with a sympathetic smile.

“Granger, hello there,” he greeted as amiably as he could. His heart, though, was threatening to jump right out of his chest.

“Not the time, Gardner,” Hermione said moodily, not looking at him.

“Well… I just thought you wouldn't mind having a little chat with me on your way to the Common Room. I'm going there as well,” he stated solemnly. That had been a lie, he realized. He had been going to meet a Ravenclaw girl in the Astronomy Tower for a little date, but… this was Hermione Granger. No girl could even start to get their hopes up that he'd be more interested in herself than in Hermione Granger. He found her to be the most fascinating person he had ever met.

“You thought wrong. I'm in a very bad mood.”

“I noticed. But a little talking to me might cheer you up,” he suggested. Hermione took one look at his grin, and shook her head.

“I'm sorry, but I'm not exactly planning to talk right now. I want to continue being in a bad mood,” she informed him.

“Oh, really?” he asked, confused but trying not to show it. He had to be his best around her.

“Yes. I have to get used to it. This is how I'll be feeling from now on every time I walk down that tower,” she said with a sigh.

“I don't get it. Is your activity that bad?”

“Yes. It's just telling lies. Or worse, getting the truth and expanding it to our taste,” she murmured bitterly. He was suddenly and abruptly consumed by a wish to please her, to have her smile at him like she smiled to everyone, especially that Harry Potter.

“Oh… you're in the gossip column, of course.” He stated, relieved he had remembered it quickly so as not to look like a complete idiot to her.

“Unfortunately,” she responded grimly.

“I don't see what's so bad about it,” he said. “You can gossip about people you dislike, for an example. Try to find the fun, useful side to it. Get some revenge,” he encouraged with a wide smile, but to his dismay, it didn't work.

“Obviously, you've never been victim of a gossip column.” She stated that rather coldly in David's opinion.

“Well… I…” he tried to find a response, but found none. At that moment, they approached the door to their Common Room, and David kicked himself for not being able to be his witty self around her.

“Acromantula.” Hermione dully said the password, and turning to a lost-looking David, said, “good night, Gardner,” before climbing the stairs to the girl's dormitories. Walking over to one of the couches and letting himself sink in it, he sighed heavily. He just couldn't seem to be the smooth, always-cool youth he'd always prided himself in being. It seemed, David thought to himself, that his goofy, idiotic side loved to come out and provoke havoc in his composure whenever Hermione was around him. And it didn't help that his infatuation was increasing everyday.

+++++++++++++++++==================================++++++++++++

Harry and Ron were having lunch that Friday when Hermione showed up in front of them, her eyes red, and with several small cuts on her flushed cheeks, on her neck, arms, and robes, and with a very lethal-looking expression on her face. Ron, who had been drinking his pumpkin juice, spit most of it out when he laid eyes on her and even managed to choke on what he didn't spit out. Harry slapped Ron gently in the back while he coughed, his eyes examining Hermione from head to foot with horror. He couldn't find his voice to inquire why in the world she looked as though she had been run over by a truck. Twice. Before being processed into juice.

“Her—Hermione! Were you beat up?!” Ron asked quite loudly, which made Hermione roll her eyes. Very few people weren't already watching her, and after Ron's exclamation, there were none who weren't openly staring. Hermione sighed, and raised a hand to touch one of the bleeding wounds on her face.

“No…” she said, sitting down. “I just had a duel with Cho Chang in the halls,” she informed them harshly, and both Ron's and Harry's mouths dropped open. She then started to examine one of her open gashes on her left hand, ignoring completely the shocked looks she was receiving from her two friends.

“What?! Why?” Harry asked, alarmed.

“Oh, no reason,” she answered sarcastically, lowering her voice. “I was talking to David Gardner and she accused me of stealing every boy she ever gets interested in,” she explained, taking a piece of cloth from her bag to clean her wounds. “What a load of rubbish,” she muttered disdainfully, wincing when the cloth touched her first wound. “Oh, I don't think I can do this by myself,” she muttered sadly.

“What did Cho mean by that?” Harry questioned, recalling Cho's jealous reactions whenever he mentioned Hermione.

“I'll tell you later. Some people,” she said, glaring coldly at everyone staring at her, “don't have manners and just can't seem to mind their own business.” Then, turning back to them, she added, in a much more amiable tone, “can you two please accompany me to the Hospital Wing?”

+++++++++++++++=====================================+++++++++++

“Now, how did you acquire these injuries?” Madam Pomfrey questioned. “I've already had another student handed in unconscious a few minutes ago.”

“Oh, really?” Hermione said with a small smile of satisfaction. “Well… I, for one, fell.”

“These injuries don't seem to have been caused by a fall, Ms Granger,” the plump nurse said, raising an eyebrow. Hermione was about to respond to that when Ron did it for her.

“Well, a rather violent fall it was,” Ron explained nervously. "One of those really destructive ones." The nurse looked at him as though checking for mental illnesses.

“Let me get a few potions for you, and I'll be right back,” Madam Pomfrey said, leaving the three of them alone for a minute.

“Naughty Hermione. Lying like that,” Ron reprehended mockingly. She grinned in response.

“I didn't lie, not completely at least. I did trip. She cast a Tripping Jinx on me.” She then turned to Harry. “To answer your question earlier, Harry, she thinks I stole you from her,” she informed solemnly, and Harry felt as though he'd been slapped. Now that was unexpected. “Of that, I'm sure, but I'm not as sure as to why she chose to pick a fight with me right then. I think it might have to do with David,” she continued. She rolled up the sleeves of her robes and Harry saw, in more detail, her various cuts. Examining them she grimaced, and at that moment a very irrational part of him wanted to embrace her tightly in his arms and treat every wound until they were cured.

“But you at least knocked her unconscious, didn't you?” Ron asked, grinning proudly.

“Yes, and it was rather easy. She tried to petrify me while I couldn't react, and right at that moment I cast a Protego shield around me, and it rebounded on her, although much less harmful,” she said. At that moment Madam Pomfrey came and said she'd need Hermione to go to another room, so she could treat the injuries on her back, tummy, and on other parts of her body. Ron had blushed furiously when he had caught on to the meaning of the nurse's words, and Hermione left them.

“Harry, Ron, you had to see Hermione dueling against Cho Chang!” Someone exclaimed behind Harry and he turned. It was Colin Creevey, who was accompanied by Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. “Want me to tell you how it was?” And before Harry could answer him, Colin proceeded. “First, Cho shoved Hermione to the wall, and accused her of stealing boys from her. It confused me, the whole thing.”

“That's what girls are for, Colin,” Ron informed dryly. “I always thought they should have a section at St. Mungo's for a different kind of mentally ill than they have there, those unfortunate souls that tried to figure out the fairer sex.”

“Well, anyway,” Seamus continued for Colin, who had started to laugh uncontrollably. “Hermione threw a book right to Cho's face and said, `you don't want to duel me, Chang', and Cho then drew out her wand and told Hermione that she knew exactly what she wanted to do and it involved eye-gouging.”

“Eeeewww,” Ron murmured. Harry listened to it with shock. He had never imagined what it would be like to duel Hermione. She was a walking, talking encyclopedia of spells. At that moment, knowing Cho's condition, he pitied her very much. But he couldn't help feeling proud of Hermione.

“Then, Cho threw a tripping jinx on her, and Hermione fell, but while she was falling she threw her a Bat-Bogey Hex,” Seamus continued, and laughed with the memory. “Pretty much cut her whole face.”

“One of her friends put an end to the curse, and then Cho cast a Confundus Charm on her, but it didn't hit Hermione, it just cut her in the stomach. The scabere corium hex hit her, though, while Hermione was saying that she had no idea what Cho was talking about, that whole boy-thief deal, you know. The hex really scratched her face and arms, you saw that, right? Anyway, Hermione cast a rope-binding curse on her, and she fell, all wrapped in ropes, but then one of her friends helped her out of that, too, just as Hermione had started to pack her books,” Dean told them excitedly. “Cho then hit Hermione in the back with a Conjunctivitis Curse.”

“Then… Hermione was blinded,” Harry realized with horror. “She was practically defenseless, wasn't she?”

“Yeah, and then Cho threw a Petrificus Totalus on her, but Hermione put a Protego charm on herself and it rebounded,” Seamus said proudly. "That's a real Gryffindor right there."

“When it rebounded, it pretty much Stunned her. David Gardner did a Finite Incantatem to Hermione's curse and she was able to see again, but you saw the damage…” told Dean, slightly piteous.

“Yeah, Hermione's arm looks an awful like a sifter, so holed up it's almost see-through,” Ron compared, and the boys burst out laughing.

“I took pictures of everything! Two girls as pretty as them, dueling!” Colin said excitedly. Ron was eager to see the pictures, but Harry's stomach turned. A duel between the girl he had dated and liked for years and the girl Luna had said he'd fallen for was not Harry's idea of excitement.

“Pity they didn't throw any hexes that slashed their clothes off,” Seamus murmured, and Harry felt irritation emerge from his body onto his face, but he managed to hide it.

+++++++++++++===================================+++++++++++++++

“Wow,” Harry muttered in admiration. He had managed to scrape an Exceeds Expectations in his essay for Potions and smiled proudly to Hermione, who was sitting beside him, examining her own essay, which had gained an Outstanding. She beamed back and they both started to brew the Esteem Draught, which had been assigned to the students as soon as they entered the classroom. They each were partnered and set out to produce the complex potion.

Hermione had recovered in mere minutes from her injuries after Madam Pomfrey had applied a paste to her cuts. She had walked out and was delighted to find the five boys awaiting her. She was still disappointed, though, that Gryffindor had lost 25 points due to their fight, and in addition Hermione had landed an evening appointment with McGonagall.

“Harry, would you get the asphodel leaf from the cabinet, please?” Hermione asked. Harry nodded and made his way to the cabinet, to where David Gardner had been heading also.

“Afternoon, Potter,” Gardner greeted solemnly.

“Afternoon, Gardner. I want to thank you for getting the Conjunctivitis Curse removed from Hermione,” Harry thanked sincerely. David showed no reaction.

“Wouldn't you do it, if you had been there?” He questioned, and Harry frowned.

“Of course.”

“Then don't thank me. You're not the only one who likes her around here,” he said, putting a very strong emphasis on the word “like”. Uneasy with David's words, Harry made his way back to where Hermione was carefully brewing the potion. You don't fancy her, Harry told himself in his mind. You don't fancy her, you don't fancy her, you don't fancy her, you don't fancy her…

“Harry, do you mind crushing these for me?” Hermione stretched her hand to hand him the piece of oak wood while she stirred the potion, but unknowingly touched him in the process. As a result of her near-caress, Harry felt the usual electric-like rush wash through his body and cause his heart to speed up inside his chest, but he managed to not show it, and nervously took the wood from her hand. His mental chanting wasn't working well, he decided glumly while he crushed the oak. But it didn't matter. He had to get his mind off the girl beside him. You don't fancy her, you don't fancy her, you don't fancy her…

+++++++++++++++++++==============================++++++++++++++

After Potions, they had Care of Magical creatures, in which they studied aethonons, a savage-looking winged horse, and this one had abnormally large claws. The lesson, which was taught by Hagrid, made Harry's spirits rise in delight. He was very happy that Hagrid was back to teaching normally, and even gladder that, even though they were having the lesson with the Slytherins, everything was progressing rather (and uncommonly) smoothly.

Towards the end of the lesson, however, problems arose, and they did so after an unfortunate accident in which Hermione had grabbed Harry by the hand to save him from the animal's deadly claws. He had thanked her, but had unconsciously continued to hold her hand. Hermione pointed it out after a few moments, and he, extremely embarrassed, complied with her request and let go of her hand, but not before every student had watched the scene with amusement.

“So, Granger and Potty. Can't imagine what your offspring will look like,” Malfoy sneered, low enough so Hagrid would not hear.

“Shut up and leave us alone, Malfoy,” Hermione snapped, not bothering to look at his face.

“They'll probably be ugly, stinking creatures, buck-toothed with horrible, untamable hair,” Malfoy continued, and Crabbe and Goyle laughed at his remark. Harry felt his temper rise and it took Hermione's pleading looks to contain him from punching Malfoy in the face. “And where will you live? Maybe in a pigsty, just like the Weasley's. Or maybe among those dirty, smelly Muggles. Like your parents, Granger. Can't imagine their misfortune in breeding something like you. They must've done something pretty special when they made you, because even if two beasts as ugly as they are managed to breed something, it still wouldn't look half as bad as you do,” he continued scathingly. Harry's temper was reaching exploding point, and as he tried to ignore Malfoy's words (by taking very deep breaths), he saw David looking at Hermione and him with bewilderment. Malfoy stepped closer to them, standing right behind Hermione. Fury made Harry clench his fists. Only Hermione was keeping him from pouncing Malfoy away from her.

“Malfoy, do you ever get tired? You should know by now that you're wasting both your breath and your time trying to affect us with your petty, insignificant babble. So shut your mouth already and sod off,” Hermione snapped, giving Malfoy the coldest, most scornful glare Harry had ever seen from her. Even Malfoy couldn't hide his surprise, taking a cautious step back. Hermione was struggling to control herself, Harry noticed, increasingly alarmed. Hermione wasn't one to lose her temper. But then again, she was having such a rough day…

Meanwhile, Hagrid still taught the students, most of them unaware of what was happening behind them.

“… an' these smaller wings `ere, they're fer helpin' the beast fly. An'…” Harry ignored the rest when Malfoy returned with his taunting.

“How dare you speak to me, you filthy, revolting little Mudblood,” he whispered forcefully in her ear, looking at her with disgust. David and Harry both jumped right out of their chairs at the same time, wands raised. “Need protection, do you, Granger? Your parents not raise you strong enough? Horribly unfortunate for you to be raised by people even more fucked up than you are,” he continued venomously, and just when he opened his mouth to say more, the tip of Hermione's wand was in his mouth.

Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise, but instantly after that Harry heard Hermione mutter something, and Malfoy's mouth was lit up as a green jet of light shot from Hermione's wand. Malfoy was thrown instantly all the way to a nearby tree, where he hit his back violently and fell to the ground face-first onto the mud. Now everyone, including Hagrid was giving them blank stares, not knowing what had just occurred.

Malfoy tried to stand up, but his face immediately turned a delicate shade of green and he started to throw up intensely. It looked as though he wasn't breathing, either. He started to gag and choke in his own vomit while Crabbe and Goyle, along with the whole class, were looking absolutely clueless. Hermione seemed to take pity on Malfoy and, raising her wand once again, she said, very clearly, “Finite,” and Malfoy ceased to vomit. He coughed a few times and Hagrid, panicked and looking utterly lost, scanned his students with apprehension. “I did it, Hagrid,” Hermione confessed with dignity. Harry and David exchanged looks, already foreseeing the future events.

++++++++++++++++++++++======================+++++++++++++++++++

Hermione, accompanied by the Gryffindor Head Girl, Katie Bell, hesitantly tapped on the closed door to McGonagall's study. She had come here many times to talk to her professor about everyday life like she talked to Hagrid, and she regarded McGonagall with the utmost respect and fondness. But she was sure that McGonagall would be extremely far from pleased with her visit that day.

“You may enter,” they both heard and with dread, Hermione slowly opened the door. Inside, she found the professor busily writing on a piece of parchment on her table.

“Professor, this is Hermione Granger, sixth year Gryffindor brought to you on account of dueling with a fellow student,” Katie stated.

“You are early, Ms Granger,” McGonagall said simply, looking up from her parchment.

“No… actually, she's not,” Katie corrected, throwing a look of profound pity to Hermione. McGonagall looked up from her paper with an eyebrow raised.

“I'll explain. Please?” Hermione pleaded.

“Ms. Bell, you may go.” Katie left the room and quietly shut the door behind her. “Please sit down, Ms. Granger,” the professor said. Hermione obeyed and recognized that tone. It wasn't a request. It was an order. “Now kindly explain the motive for your fight.”

“Well, uh… which one?” Hermione questioned, squirming in her chair and struggling to contain a whimper. She could only imagine what McGonagall's reaction would be when she found her about her prized student's latest actions.

“There are numerous motives?”

“Uh… no, actually.” Hermione swallowed hard and took a deep breath, hoping to acquire courage from the air. “There were two fights, professor.”

“That must be utter nonsense, Ms Granger. I was not forewarned of two quarrels,” McGonagall's tone was harsh and demanding, making Hermione wince slightly.

“Well, you see, our appointment for this evening concerned my duel with Cho Chang in the halls. That occurred in the morning, just before breakfast. I was brought here this instant, a little before our appointment, because… because I have just given Malfoy a Vomosortia Curse in the mouth during my Care of Magical Creatures lesson,” Hermione explained quickly, forcing herself to finish each word, amazed at how much effort she had to put into it. A small whimper came from her when a look of absolute disappointment took control of the professor's face.

“You cursed Draco Malfoy? With the potentially deadly Unstoppable Vomiting Curse?” She seemed indignant, almost offended. But unless Hermione was very much mistaken, she saw a small glint of pride in McGonagall's eyes. Hermione remembered that the curse she had used was very, very advanced magic, and it had been the first one that had emerged in her mind when she had placed her wand in his mouth. “We have spoken of this, Ms Granger. We have already talked about my strong recommendations that you ignore any offensive remarks regarding you heritage,” she reminded Hermione harshly.

“But he said horrible things about my parents, professor! Terrible things,” Hermione protested, feeling more injusticed than ever. This was not fair, she told herself, furious. “He once gave me teeth that came all the way to my chin and made me look like a human badger and he didn't get any punishment, and I make him throw up a little bit, and I get this,” she said, huffing angrily. This day was rapidly ascending posts in her rank list of worst days in her life.

“I will not have another talk about this, Ms Granger. Suffice to say that I have never been more disappointed with any student of mine as I am with you,” she said with soul-wrenching asperity to Hermione, who felt an extremely painful stab in her heart. That had hurt. “Now please inform me of the motive for your disagreement with Ms Chang.”

“She thinks I stole Harry from her,” Hermione answered with a trembling but tightly controlled voice, not quite recovered from the painful blow that had been McGonagall's last words. She struggled to hold the reins of her emotions, but it wasn't working very well. Hermione felt very close to crying.

“Pardon me?” the professor questioned with anger.

“They uh… dated last year,” Hermione told, trying to occupy her mind with something that could make her angry enough to make her brain forget about crying. And then she found it as soon as she had started to explain everything to McGonagall. Cho Chang. That retarded, conceited cow. “They probably had a disagreement because it was I who put that jinx on the Dumbledore's Army list of members and made Marietta Edgecombe's face break out in ugly boils. Edgecombe was Chang's best friend. And, I'm guessing she went to talk badly of me to Harry, and he defended me,” she finished, glad that she no longer felt inclined to shed any tears. “But it wasn't Harry's fault, any of it, not the arguments, not the breakup either. She soaked him in tears everyday.”

Hermione was immediately reminded of how she had once contemplated crying all over Viktor to see if he'd give up on her, but had decided to figure out another way to accomplish that, for it'd require too much of Hermione's part (who couldn't cry without a very good reason to do so). Every girl in Hogwarts had always said, as soon as the Yule Ball had ended, that she'd end up with the Bulgarian. No one but Ginny knew who she really liked, and why she'd chosen to decline any offers he made of the two spending time together. She didn't know if the boys agreed with the girls' guesses, but she hoped to dear God that Harry wasn't one of the boys who rooted for Viktor to choose a girlfriend from Hogwarts, especially her.

“And you two dueled over a boy?” McGonagall inquired with a bit of surprise, her tone much less harsh.

“Well, not on my part. I had absolutely no intention of fighting for Harry. But she still fancies him, I guess, and is mad at me, thinking I'm the reason he's already over her,” Hermione told, a tiny flicker of satisfaction sparkling inside her at the realization that she, of all people, was infuriating Cho Chang. If only the girl was right…

And while she still felt enormously irate at the injustice she was being forced to endure by McGonagall, it felt oddly natural to confide these facts in her professor.

“Ms Granger, I cannot find a punishment great enough for two fights in one day that does not border on being expelled…” McGonagall stated seriously, and Hermione blanched, her professor's words not quite being processed in her mind. “But I have decided that you are to perform both duties designated to you during the activity sorting.” No sooner had these words left her mouth, Hermione had shot up from her chair.

“But the other one, aside from writing for the newspaper, is cheerleading, professor!” Hermione protested. She was now seriously regretting letting her bad mood get the better of her when it came to Malfoy's taunting.

“That is none of my concern. You will perform both duties, and the latter with Ms Cho Chang.” Hermione's chin dropped. This was not possible. Working everyday with Cho Chang had to be someone's idea of a joke, or…

“Torture…” Hermione mumbled to herself, sitting back down. She had to think of some way to stop this. She could not imagine performing that ridiculous American activity of cheerleading, and with Cho Chang, no less… Think, Hermione, think… you've rationalized your way out of worst situations…“Wait… professor, there are no cheerleaders,” Hermione informed, hiding her feeling of triumph from her voice.

“Pardon me, Ms Granger?”

“Everyone who was sorted into it chose to perform the other activity. We'll be the only ones in the cheerleading team,” she explained, managing to conceal a smile that was dangerously close to curving her lips.

“Well, in that case, Gryffindor will lose an additional 50 points,” the professor affirmed firmly. “Your House's points now are a total of… negative 90 points.”

“Oh, wonderful…” Hermione grunted moodily. Consoling herself that this was much better than cheerleading, Hermione slowly stood up, her movements being watched with attention by her professor. “Thank you for your time and patience, professor.”

“Ms Granger… please, do try to stay out of any disagreements from this day on,” she counseled, her eyebrows forming one thin, hard line of disapproval.

“I'll do what's within my reach,” Hermione said simply, and left the room. Negative ninety points, she though to herself gloomily. That was the equivalent of more than a month of hand-raising in her classes if Harry didn't lose his temper and argue with Snape, in which case the number of months shot up to two and a half. One month of being a… what was it that Snape had called her? Oh, yes… an insufferable know-it-all. She abhorred that name... abhorred being called that.

A month or two… all that time hand-raising just to get Gryffindor to have at least zero points. Now that was rewarding.

Meanwhile,

“Harry, do you reckon we can still lose any more points?” Ron asked with desperation. They had been watching the hourglasses that kept track of each House's points and had been alarmed when numerous see-through globes had been removed. That meant that they now had even less points than they had before, and they already had negative points to start with.

“I don't know… do you think there might be a limit for negative points?”

“Hermione Granger, the girl who usually earns about half the points Gryffindor gets every year, has just been responsible for the largest number of negative points in Hogwarts history. If that isn't ironic, I don't know what it is,” they heard Ginny say dryly behind them while she approached the two.

“Where is Hermione, though? She's been gone long enough,” Ron complained, scanning his surroundings with anxiety. “I wish she'd come here sooner.”

“Stop complaining, Ron. She'll be here soon enough,” Ginny snapped.

“Tell that to my stomach. He's the one doing the complaining, not me,” Ron answered, his longing eyes on the door to the Great Hall. "And the complaining is hearable, if you want to check."

“We better go eat. No use waiting for Hermione here. She'll be going to the Great Hall to look for us, anyway,” Harry suggested, and nodding, his other two friends followed him to dinner.

Sitting down, Harry helped himself to a small amount of beef and chicken, while keeping one eye looking out for any entrance to the Great Hall. Ron served himself with large quantities of every type of food available, while he and Ginny discussed Percy's future now that there was going to be a new Minister of Magic.

“He'll probably get another useless job, for another old scumbag in the Ministry,” Ron told her before biting off a piece of chicken.

“Which job, do you think?”

“I'd say on the lines of… maybe assistant to the vice-secretary of the Ministry's coffee server,” Ron said coolly, and Harry heard Ginny laugh at his remark. Harry was still deep in thought and missed the next words of their conversation. If Luna was right, he was fancying Hermione… but Hermione, the trustworthiest person he had ever met, had once told him that she only believed in things as long as there was no proof at all. So she could be wrong… but then again, she was a girl. Girls knew these things, didn't they? And he was indeed feeling something different towards his friend, but it could be something else besides fancying. Harry gave up his pondering after a while, judging it best to avoiding thinking about someone who made his stomach feel cold and hot at the same time, while he was eating.

A few minutes had passed when a glaring Hermione entered the place, her steps hurried and short. Almost everyone stared at Hermione while she passed, but this no longer surprised Harry. It had become fairly usual, with Hermione behaving as she was.

“Hello, Hermione,” said Ginny with a timid smile. Hermione glared for a moment before visibly relaxing while she sat down beside Harry. She greeted all of them with grumpiness dripping from her every word, and Harry felt useless throughout his meal. Hermione always knew how to raise his spirits, and it seemed he never could to do the same.

That night in the Common Room, he sat beside Hermione in the couch planning to comfort her in any possible way. She had cracked down emotionally as soon as they had arrived there after dinner, blaming herself for the Gryffindors House's lack of points and almost crying over it. No one had said anything so far because, as painful as it was to watch Hermione torture herself, she was right. The blame was mostly hers. Parvati had approached the melancholic girl saying that she was partly responsible, too; if she hadn't quarreled with her sister, they would have only negative twenty points now. Ron also offered his sympathies. Apparently, if he hadn't exploded the greenhouse they wouldn't have any negative points. They'd have at least five. None of that helped, as Hermione's outburst of tears after that proved very clearly.

Harry watched Hermione stop crying and, before he could think twice about doing it, he had reached out and wiped a rolling tear off her surprisingly cold cheek. He gasped with shock at his own impulsive and entirely uncharacteristic action, and started to pull his hand back when she gently grabbed it with her even colder hands, frowning.

“How can you keep your hands so warm all the time?” She asked him with apparent genuine interest.

“It's not that warm,” he said, relieved that at least this time, physical contact with Hermione didn't render him embarrassingly tongue-tied. “You're the one who's too cold.”

“Cold…" she muttered to herself thoughtfully. “Harry, do you think I'm cold? Emotionally cold?” She inquired of him, her voice barely audible and her eyes anywhere but on his face. Realizing that her feet might be as cold as hands and face, he gently picked up her legs from the floor and placed them on his lap. Hermione was pleased with his gesture and turned herself completely to him, letting her legs rest on his, but not letting herself meet his gaze.

“I'm not sure what you mean,” he told her with curiosity.

“I think I'm supposed to like someone, but I don't. Everyone is always saying ever since we met that I'll end up with him, actually, but I don't like him like that, and now… I'm wondering if something's wrong with me,” she told him seriously, still avoiding his eyes.

“Maybe he's just not the right guy for you, you know… maybe everyone is wrong,” he suggested, hoping with all his heart that she was talking about Viktor Krum. “You're not cold, Hermione.”

“But I'm not that loving either… or lovable, come to think of it,” she added as a sad after-thought. “I think I've got too many flaws.”

“You…” he started to say, but lost himself entirely in his own sentence when she finally looked upon his face, her large brown eyes caging him in an intense gaze, of the kind that gave you the impression that she was perpetually concentrated. It not only intimidated him a bit, but fascinated him as well. She was so flawless…

“You were going to agree with me, weren't you?” Harry recognized that as a gloomy statement, not really a question. “You think I'm too flawed.”

“No. I was actually going to say that,” he unwillingly took a deep breath, “that you're not cold, you're very lovable and you don't have too many flaws.”

“Really?” She beamed, flushed with glee. Encouraged by her reaction, he resolved to tell her what he initially had been about to say.

“Yeah, and… in my opinion, it all just makes you very… very perfect.” The last word came at a horrible price. He felt his face burn and knew instantly that he had blushed the brightest shade of red ever seen on human skin. “I just wanted you to know that,” he muttered, wishing he could escape his location and go to someplace far away, where he'd never have to face her again. He was that embarrassed.

“Harry?” She called softly, cupping his chin to raise his head. “I hate it when you don't look at me when we're talking.”

“I hate it when you do that, too,” he said, fidgety, finally meeting her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it, her gesture betraying reluctance and embarrassment.

“I don't have any words I can really use to thank you for everything you do for me,” she told him softly; her tone passed the impression that she was confiding in him a profound secret. “You do these things, just like right now, warming me, and it really makes me happier everyday because I know you, and…” she paused, looking breathless and hesitant. “I know you and I think you're a really, really good person, the best I've ever met,” she continued with a small flush, and Harry felt his face grow hot again.

“Uh… thanks, but I was just being honest, that's all, I mean, it's just my opinion, it's just what I think, it's just my feelings,” he babbled, until he realized that his random, stupid-sounding words were leading him into saying something far more meaningful. He stopped just in time. “Are you warmer?” He asked abruptly.

“Much warmer than before, thank you,” Hermione said with a smile. “I think I'm going to sleep, though. I'm so comfortable here that I'm getting sleepy.”

“That's all right. Tomorrow is Saturday, we'll go to Hogsmeade, won't we?”

“Yeah, we will. Then see you tomorrow, Harry,” she bid him, standing up and bending down to kiss him on the cheek. Harry felt that stomach-knotting rush run through his body from the spot her lips had touched all the way to his toes. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he said back, giving her an enormous and (he was sure of it) goofy smile. He watched her ascend the stairs to her dormitory and suddenly wished she hadn't gone.

“About time you started to invest in Hermione, Harry,” he heard someone who sounded like Seamus say behind him, and, turning, he saw that his guess had been correct.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Harry said simply, turning his back to Seamus once more. To his dismay, however, the boy sat beside him a second later on the couch.

“Of course you do,” Seamus stubbornly insisted. “And it's about time, too, I mean, since you guys started to be friends, everyone's saying you two will end up together.”

A/N: Yes, I do realize that someone will probably want to kill me because of this ending. I, personally, hate cliffies, but I can't help writing them, for they're so much fun! Anyways, once again, I wrote something completely unexpected and out of plan, which was the duel between Cho and Hermione. Luckily, I found a way for this event to have an important result in the future, so you guys just hang on that the best of this story is yet to come. Thanks for the reviews!