Platonic Affection

A/N: This is still Day Four. Sorry it took six months to write this.

…….

Professor Severus Snape is described by other people as an impatient, nasty and inconsiderable man. Now Severus knew himself that although that may be true, it was better than being an annoying, lovesick teenager. After all, everyone knew that Harry Potter's attitude was far worse: pining after a girl, especially one's best friend, simply will and can not do.

It was pointless, idiotic, a lost cause. Severus snorted. All Potters were stupid, and it's a wonder how any of them were left in the world.

Severus scowled as he stirred the Wolfsbane potion he was making. He was disgusted with himself, thinking about the piece of gossip Minerva, the one about Potter and Granger and how “sad” and “terrible” it was that they could not confess their “undying love to each other.”

But Severus couldn't help smirking. It was tragic, really, especially after Boot asked permission for Granger to be excused so he could take Granger out to Hogsmeade. (He'd apparently already gotten the approval from Flitwick and Dumbledore.) How “sad” and “terrible” indeed, especially when he had granted Boot permission to do so.

He knew he was an arse and he loved being one. After all, it took much talent to be such an arse so early in the morning.

…….

Luna smiled when she saw Ron walking over to her an hour before class started. “Hi, Ronnie,” she greeted as she hugged her boyfriend.

“Hi, Loony,” he said back in an affectionate sort of way. He stepped back and looked at her. “You sure you don't want to help me an' Harry ruin Hermione's date? It could be exciting.”

Luna shook her head. “You know I can't miss Muggle Studies. It's too much fun. We're learning about Muggle clothes today. Ooh!” she exclaimed. “Do you want to come with? Wait…” She cocked her head to the side. “Never mind. You're so tall.”

…….

Ron furrowed his eyebrows and stood next to Harry, discussing his plan with him. Or at least, he tried to. Harry “didn't like” his plan and “didn't think it was going to work.” He sighed in exasperation.

If only he weren't so tall.

…….

Harry sighed. “Do we really need to ask Malfoy for help?” He was hesitant, not to mention doubtful, about Ron's plan and couldn't help but squirm when Ron had to repeat it twice. If only Hermione were here; she would have a better plan. But it was because of her they were doing this.

“Harry, mate, I don't want to have to tell you twice, but maybe I will. Luna can't help us because she'll miss Muggle Studies. Actually, she just doesn't feel like doing this. Ginny can't, because if she ever finds out what we're doing she'll get mad at—“

“And Malfoy won't? Harry pointed out.

“True, true,” Ron agreed, “but Ginny doesn't have this thing that Malfoy does. And do you know what that is?”

“Blond hair?” Harry guessed.

“No, a chance for male bonding. You see, Malfoy, like you and me, is a man. And as men, it is our duty, Harry, to look out for each other. You knew that, didn't you?”

“Yes,” Harry answered sardonically, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “And that's why we've fought so much and insulted each other until recently. And when you found out he was dating Ginny, you tried to murder him. We've bonded oh so much!”

Ron smiled, as if all-knowing. “Since Malfoy is a man—“

“He's more like a ferret,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“—and he's also dating my baby sister,” the redhead continued. “We'll have no problem convincing—“

“Also known as brainwashing,” the black-haired wizard interrupted.

“Harry, will you let me finish?” Ron admonished exasperatedly, his arms flailing about.

“Sorry, Ron.” And Harry truly meant it.

Ron let out a breath. “Anyway, to make a long story short, Ginny gave me pictures of Malfoy sleeping with a pink teddy bear if I ever needed to blackmail him with something or if he ever hurt her in any way.”

Harry shook his head. “Your sister, she's—“

“An evil genius?” Ron supplied.

“Well, I was going for `a work of art,' but that can work too.”

“So… d'you understand my plan?”

“I don't know about this, Ron…”

“Trust me, Harry, it'll be fine. Remember what I said about men?”

“Yes! You only said it two minutes ago! And men? We're not men, Ron. We're teenagers. I'm only seventeen! And even if we were men and you say men look out for each other, then why is Boot about to go on a date with Hermione? Did you think about that?”

“Oh,” Ron began slowly. “I see where this is going. This is all just about Hermione.”

Harry looked at Ron, knowing that his best friend no longer made any sense. “What? What are you talking about? Of course this is just about Hermione. Where have you been these past few days?”

The redheaded wizard knitted his brows together confusedly. “Right here with you.”

Harry sighed once more and let out a groan of frustration.

“Look, Malfoy's a git, I know that, but… you want to `save' Hermione from her `fiasco date,' don't you?”

“I KNOW! I KNOW! But this is stupid. Your plan isn't going to work!”

Ron quirked an eyebrow. “You have a better one?”

“No,” he admitted begrudgingly.

“Okay then. I think Fred and George will be here shortly. You wait here and study for our Potions test while I do something.”

A second later, Ron turned around. “Harry, you don't think I'm too tall, do you?”

Harry replied, “No, of course not… Why?”

“No reason,” he shrugged. “Thanks, Harry.” Ron walked out the door.

Harry sat down and thought that it'd be best if he calmed down. He was about to read a book on Quidditch, but then just remembered something Ron just said. What Potions test?

…….

She was “hiding” in her room before class started.

“Hermione, just calm down. It's just a stupid, meaningless date,” she told herself as she breathed deeply. “You don't even know when the date is. It will probably be hours from now.” She closed her eyes. “Just go to your classes and you'll be happy and tomorrow, this whole date won't even be remembered.”

“Talking to yourself, Hermione?” she heard a voice behind her say. “Is that sane?”

Hermione turned around only to face Fred and George… also in her room.

“Now, now, dear brother, everyone knows that perfectly sane people can talk to themselves,” said Fred—or was it George? Hermione, who could usually tell the two apart, felt dizzy. “I mean, we do it all the time. And it's a free country after all.”

Hermione attempted to be calm by putting a hand to her forehead and closing her eyes once more. “What,” she asked faintly, “are you doing here?” Her headache was growing worse. “How did you get in here?” She knew perfectly well that males were incapable of getting into any of the girls dormitory, and if they tried to do so the stairs would turn into a slide, forbidding any boy to enter.

“Easy,” one of them said. He pointed to the pair of shoes he wore; on the soles were a thick, sticky layer of green goo.

Hermione's eyes widened. “What,” she said slowly, subconsciously backing away from the twins, “is that, and what is it doing in my room?”

“One of our old products we made ages ago,” one answered. “Before we even had a joke shop, we made these—“he pointed to his shoes—“aptly named `Sticky Shoes.'”

“Yeah, these were genius, isn't that right?”

“These were perfect for sneaking up to—“he winked at Hermione “—a girl's room, if you know what I mean.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Of course I know what it means. It means you got to Angelina's hoping for a quick snog, but she wouldn't let you in.” She smirked while the other twin guffawed.

“Good one, Hermione. Anyway, aren't these shoes great?”” he asked, lifting up a foot.

Her eyes trailed to the trail of goo Fred and George made. She felt like she was going to throw up. “Isn't even Ministry-approved?” Hermione asked faintly.

Loudly, Fred and George started to laugh. “'Is is even Ministry-approved?' Oh, Hermione, you're hilarious.”

“Well,” she insisted, “is it?”

“Is it? Er…” The laughing stopped.

“No,” one admitted quietly.

Hermione smiled and gave a dry laugh. “Then what is it doing in my room?” she screeched. “I want it out! OUT!” She gestured to the door.

The Weasley twins rushed to take off their shoes, hurriedly throwing them out the door.

“The nerve,” she exclaimed loudly as she used her wand to scourgify the floor, the green mess vanishing. “What are you two even doing here?”

“Well… if Miss Granger is done with her little tantrum…”

Hermione glared and frowned, crossing her arms over her chest and waited. Silence was among them for a few moments. With the silence, Hermione could finally tell which twin was which.

“We hear,” George began, “that a little sister of ours—if you could call her that—is going on a date with a Ravenclaw named Boot, and we're here to talk to her.”

“Ginny?” Hermione laughed. “If you're looking for her, she's not here. Try going to her own room. Oh, and yes: she's still with Malfoy, and I don't think they're going to break up anytime soon.”

“Hermione, Hermione, Hermione,” Fred said, shaking his head. “You don't consider us to be your older brothers?”

Hermione snorted. “No.”

George gasped, feigning shock. “You don't? After all we've been through? After we've been confiding in you? After all… these years?”

“Sorry, guys.” She shook her head. “But you two will always be the thorns on my side, not my older brothers.”

“Well, we do care about you,” George told her. “Which is why we came here right away when we got an anonymous tip that you're dating Boot.”

“Good guy, really,” Fred said.

“He was in the DA with us,” the other noted.

“But he's a bit annoying,” the other remembered.

“Really annoying, actually…”

“It's none of your concern if I date Boot,” she sniffed, “just like it's not Harry's. And when you say `anonymous tip,' I assume you mean Ron, don't you?” She had a feeling that it was either Ron or Harry. She had such great friends!

Fred looked at his watch and exchanged glances with his brother. “Now, you shouldn't assume things like that, Hermione. But whoever did tell us is really looking out for you.”

“Er,” George said, “I'm going to get a butterbeer from the kitchens. I'll… be right back.” And George slipped away from Hermione's room.

“Okay, Hermione. It's time to have a talk with Fred.” He was sitting on the edge of her bed. Fred patted the spot next to him, silently telling her to sit down. “I want you to tell me everything that's on your mind. What's wrong with Harry Potter?”

…….

“Let me get this straight,” Lavender said, crossing her arms and ankles as she sat down. “You want me to—“ she looked down on a piece of parchment she held— “teach Hermione Granger the basics of dating?” She began to giggle, making Parvati, who was sitting next to her, do the same.

“Well, it's not that funny,” George said defensively. “Just skip a class or something so you can help her out.” George thought it funny that this business meeting they were having was being held at McGonagall's office with her permission. He hoped his brother was having just as much of a miserable time as he was.

Lavender snorted, causing Parvati to gasp in shock and then start giggling all over again. “Oh shut up, Parvati,” she demanded with a smile. She swatted her friend on the shoulder. “It's nothing you've never heard before.” And they began chuckling once more.

George rolled his eyes, annoyed. “Listen, are you going to help her or not?”

Once the laughing subsided and the girls were calm, Parvati managed, “Oh, George, Hogwarts misses you so. It's just not the same with out you or Fred.”

“Well…” George said smugly, smirking in delight.

Parvati and Lavender giggled again.

“Girls,” George muttered. “Never ask them for help.”

“I don't think we can, George,” Parvati admitted somberly.

“Why not?”

“Hermione's been on dates before, hasn't she?”

“With Krum,” Lavender interjected. “If you've gone on a date with Viktor Krum, there's nothing left to teach.”

“I don't think she even considers that thing with Krum a date,” George mumbled.

“I have a question,” Parvati spoke up. “What do you get in all this?”

George spluttered, “Pardon?”

Parvati smirked, her eyes gleaming with self-satisfaction. “I have more brains than you know, and George Weasley never does anything for nothing.”

George scoffed. “I'll have you know that my intentions are solely on the benefits of Hermione, my brother's best friend.”

Lavender sneered, straightening up in her seat. “Oh, bull—“

“One piece of advice, George,” Parvati interrupted. “Don't lie to us. Our womanly intuitions are better than any lie detector you or your brother can produce, so don't even try.”

“Yeah,” Lavender added, “if we can see through Harry and Hermione's `Platonic Affection' lie, we can definitely see through yours.”

George sighed. “This is a business meeting, right?”

“Yeah, and you scheduled this, I believe, two days ago.” Parvati and Lavender apparently had gotten into their “business woman” mode, a characteristic not many people had seen before. “We also assumed that your brother would be present at this meeting as well.”

“He is comforting Miss Granger as we speak. She had a bit of a breakdown because of our shoes,” George replied with a straight face, his speech equally sophisticated.

“I didn't know,” Parvati said, “that shoes were a sensitive subject for Hermione.”

“Very much,” Lavender nodded. “One time, I offered her my pair of black stilettos with the pointed toes—you know, because she always wears those same black Mary janes that are all scuffed up and unappealing?-- and she looked at me with a horrified face. She said something about how it wasn't part of the school dress code and how she didn't see how people could walk in them. They're quite comfortable, actually.”

George remembered those shoes. He was positive that they were the same shoes Lavender wore and complained about more that two years ago when he was a seventh year here at Hogwarts.

“So, will you help her out or what?”

“And what if we do help Hermione? Why is George Weasley in such a benevolent mood?” Parvati asked. She leaned over the desk looking at George closer. “Hmm?”

George, unblinkingly, said, “If you must know, Ronniekinns, who has placed a bet for the second, fourth, and seventh day, has offered us a nice percentage of his betting pool winnings, should he oh so win. If we help sabotage the date, the money's ours.

”Before you ask,” George continued, “we're splitting it eighty-twenty.”

“You twenty, Ron eighty?” Parvati inquired.

George smirked. “Of course not! What kind of business man do you take me for?”

…….

“All males are stupid!” she declared bitterly, brows furrowed and tears welled. Hermione slouched in her bed, forgetting that Fred himself was indeed a male.

`I hear you,” Fred replied, pretending to agree for Hermione's sake. “Some are just dogs.” He patted her on the back.

“Well, not Ron or Harry,” Hermione added quickly. “But sometimes they're just so…so…”

“Stupid?” Fred supplied, handing her a handkerchief.

“Yes! And especially Harry with his—“ Hermione's face was contorted in anger “—with his…jealousy and his `I don't think you should date Boot' shite. And Boot!” she exclaimed with wide eyes. “What kind of name is Boot?”

Fred shrugged. “I can't really talk. Mine's Weasley.” Inwardly, he really wished Hermione'd shut up. She was really emotional…like a girl. He didn't know how Ron and Harry handled her everyday. Maybe that's why they've been avoiding her.

Hermione stopped for a moment and looked at Fred. “Oh, I'm sorry, Fred. My ranting must be really boring for you.” Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment, her eyes focused on the floor.

Fred smiled cheekily; thoughts about all the galleons they would be winning could only help him now. “Not at all, Hermione,” he lied. He wondered how George was doing in their business meeting.

“I miss my mum, Fred,” Hermione blurted, hugging her pillow. “And I miss Harry. And Ron. And Crookshanks.”

“Where'd your cat go?”

She shrugged. “Out for some rats, probably.” Hermione sighed. “I don't think I want to be with Boot alone.”

“It's okay, Hermione. George and I understand—which is why we're going accompany you on your date with Boot.”

Hermione's headache suddenly came back.

…….

“What do you think, Parvati? What color would Hermione look best in?”

…….

Hermione knew she would become senile one day, but she didn't think it'd be anytime soon.

How in the hell? What was she doing, riding in a carriage with Terry Boot and Fred and George Weasley? Hermione couldn't breathe, but perhaps it was because she somehow was wearing hot pink dress robes that were too tight for her own good?

…….

Why did Hermione have a feeling that she was missing a very important class?