Tales Of a Life Gone Wrong

AUTHOR NOTE: Hello fellow Harmony shippers… Here's the Half Blood Prince through Hermione Grangers eyes. Its my attempt to try and make sense of Hermione's actions, and give everyone a sense of what she was really going through. So far this fan fiction is really fun to write... it carries really well and has a nice even flow to it… I hope you all enjoy it, thank you in advance for any reviews…Take Care… Harmony_Forever

DISCLAIMER: This piece of writing is strictly fan fiction, I write this for enjoyment and shipper purpose with absolutely zero profit made… if you're going to sue someone, please go and find someone with money, I have none… Besides, if I owned the series, I would have had Harry and Hermione together and I wouldn't be here writing HBP “through Hermione's point of view” LOL.

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Trapped Within a Broken Life

CHAPTER 1

Tisbury Lane, a neighborhood where one house was always bigger than the next, had always been a peaceful place to live. Nothing exciting ever happened there, but the neighbors were always polite and took special care in tending to their beautiful gardens.

In the heart of Tisbury Lane, stands a magnificent, yet incredibly adorable home, with plenty of scattered windows, and a large maple double door. The grass a perfect handsome green and trimmed ever so carefully, while the blossoming tasteful flowers in assorted pleasant colors were very well thought out. Though the house was one of the largest in the neighborhood, it had always radiated with a warm feeling to it.

The hot sun dimmed, filling the forget-me-not blue sky with a gentle pink.

On the top floor, one of the many windows burst open. A young woman with very bush brown hair allowed herself to droop over the steep ledge with a heavy sigh.

Crookshanks, her orange, bow legged cat, gracefully joined her; purring and nuzzling her face affectionately. She loved him dearly, but in times like these she wished she had an owl.

It had been nearly two weeks of summer vacation, two agonizing weeks of wondering how Harry was coping with the loss of his godfather. It wasn't unusual that he hadn't written yet, but she had hoped she would have gotten something…anything.

She sighed again as the familiar black Audi settled on the front driveway; her parents were home.

She pulled herself back through the open window, grabbed her Charms book from a nearby shelf, and threw herself on the loveseat by the bright reading lamp.

Hermione had spent most of her days before Hogwarts in that very room. The neighborhood she lived in all her life was very beautiful but extremely lonely; the children that were her age didn't want anything to do with her, and it was the same story with her classmates at school. She grew a slightly bitter attitude towards them and applied herself whole heartedly to her schoolwork; taking great pride in her knowledge. Unfortunately, this only increased the distance with her classmates and made her a target for ridicule. She, of course, pretended not to care; but it hurt, it hurt very much.

One glorious evening, she felt a strange sense of hope. She just knew something was going to be different; something was going to change her life. And it did, it changed in a way Hermione would have never imagined.

She remembered scrambling down the stairs to examine the tall, slender old man, with the long silvery white beard and strange clothes. His piercing blue eyes watched her carefully, and a cheery smile played across his when he had introduced himself.

“Albus Dumbledore.”

Her mother and father looked positively alarmed.

“Hello Mr. Dumbledore.” Hermione had answered eagerly; she took to the old man immediately. “I'm Hermione Granger.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you at last Miss Granger.” Dumbledore had said pleasantly.

“Won't you come in Mister,” Hermione's father started.

“Please Doctor, do call me Professor, and I would be very pleased to join you. I have a very important matter to discuss with you, your wife and your daughter.”

“Of course Professor.” Mrs. Granger smiled. “Right this way.”

That had been the day Hermione was told all about Hogwarts and the magical world, the day she had gotten her letter, and the day she thought that maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't have to be so lonely anymore.

“Sweetheart we're home.”

“Upstairs mum.”

Hermione heard a rattle as coats and shoes were being taken off and put in their rightful places; then footsteps echoed through the empty space as her parents made their way upstairs to come and see her.

“How's my girl?” Mr. Granger questioned peering in through the open door.

“Good.” She lied giving him a false smile.

“How was your day?” Her mother asked giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“Oh… same as yesterday.” Which was true.

“Eat anything?” Her father asked again, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist.

She shook her head.

“Well that's good, I was hoping to cook up a large meal.”

“I'm not hungry.” Hermione stated, trying to sound as if it was a casual comment.

“But you said you hadn't,”

“What's wrong sweetheart?” Mrs. Granger asked taking a seat next to her daughter.

She shrugged.

“Nothing.”

Mr. and Mrs. Granger exchanged glances. She had been acting a little strange since she returned home from school, but they both decided it was probably just a recovery stage from her injuries; now they weren't so sure it was that, or at least, Mrs. Granger felt that way. There just seemed to be something more to it.

Hermione jumped to her feet.

A flutter of wings, she was sure she was hearing a flutter of wings; that or she was completely losing it.

She ran to the open window and peered out at the darkening sky, her heart racing, dancing its way to her throat.

Harry had finally written her.

Or so she thought; her shoulders dropped as a tiny Owl zoomed towards the open window and fluttered around the room wildly.

“A letter from school?” Her father asked as he reached up in an attempt to capture the little owl.

“No… a letter from Ron.” Hermione answered, disappointment etched in her tone.

“Oh, which one is he again?” Her mother asked, glancing at a picture of the trio sitting on one of the library shelves.

“The one with red hair.” Hermione answered feeling herself blush. Somehow it seemed to make her feel really embarrassed talking about her two best friends.

“Oh yes, he's a nice boy. But so is the other one… Harry,” Mrs. Granger glanced at her husband. “That's his name right?”

“Yes.” Hermione answered feeling herself flush further. She held out her hand and allowed Ron's tiny owl to settle down and drop the letter.

She tore it open with hopes of reading something about Harry.

Hey Hermione,

How is your summer? I mean, how is your summer so far? Did you go ski-ying with your mum and dad?

Hermione rolled her eyes; she was more then sure she had explained to Ron that you needed snow for that.

Well my summer is okay. I miss you… and Harry… so… so anyway, Harry's coming here tomorrow or the day after, Dumbledore's bringing him. I was wondering if you'd be interested in coming to The Burrow tomorrow? I don't think Harry's coming until the day after… but maybe, we could just, you know, talk, and have some fun, and who knows maybe Harry will come tomorrow and then we could just both be here to welcome him... what do you think? Send a reply back with Pig.

Ron

Hermione's eyes quickly scanned the letter again. Frowning, she allowed herself to drop back into the couch, then, with a heavy sigh she wondered what she should do. All this time she had wanted nothing more then to receive an opportunity to see Harry again, but now she wasn't so sure that she wanted to take Ron up on his offer.

She loved going to The Burrow, the Weasley's were always very kind and fun to be around, so why exactly was she feeling the need to refuse Ron's offer? That was just it, she didn't know. It was all so confusing and she felt, that perhaps by going along to The Burrow, it would become even more obscure.

“Hermione?”

Hermione looked into her mothers dark eyes. She was quite the miniature version of her, besides the fact that her mother had long sleek hair instead of the bushy tangle Hermione had.

“Hmm?” She questioned, stalling for a moment longer in an attempt to organize her current thoughts.

“Did he ask if you want to come over for the summer?”

She nodded.

“Well that's wonderful, when will you be leaving?”

Hermione felt her eyes widening. She hadn't even given herself time to think if she wanted to even go, but here her mum was practically ready to get her things ready and scurry her out the front door.

“Huh?” She managed to mumble.

“Did, eerr Ron, say when you'd be going to his house?” Her father asked taking a seat next to his wife.

“He said tomorrow.” She answered feeling herself blush again.

Her mother smiled gently.

“Well… then I suppose you best get your things packed, do you want me to drive you there?” Her father asked calmly.

“I'd have to take the Knights Bus dad, can't exactly drive me there I don't think.” She answered feeling her stomach erupt with numerous butterflies. This conversation was really making her feel steadily uncomfortable.

“Well, I suppose I'll prepare that dinner while you pack up, Amelia will you make some salad while I fix the rest?” Mr. Granger questioned making his way to the library door.

“Yes of course.” She answered smiling fondly at her husband. “Do you need any help sweetheart?”

“No… I'll…I'll be fine.” She answered feeling the helplessness overwhelm her.

“You're sure?” Mr. Granger persisted.

“Yes… I'm sure.”

She closed her Charms book and turned off the lamp before her mother and father meandered out the door, and down the stairs arms in arm.

Hermione plopped herself down at the majestic desk and scribbled a reply back to Ron, wishing she could write up some excuse to come to the Burrow a few days after Harry's arrival.

Hey Ron,

Sure, I'll come down to The Burrow sometime tomorrow. I'll be taking the Knight's Bus, but don't worry, I don't think I'll have too much trouble getting my things to your house. I'll see you then, say hello to everyone from me,

She hesitated on her closing signature before she scribbled it down with a sigh.

Love Hermione

Looking back over her letter to Ron, her eyes focused on the ending, the part with the word “Love” before her name, it felt awkward, but why should it? Ron was a good friend, despite the bickering, he was after all loyal, trustworthy and often a good laugh. She had always signed her letters to both Ron and Harry the same way, but something felt different this time; Hermione just couldn't quite put her finger on it. She even contemplated writing a new letter and just signing her name at the end without “love”; but Ron would notice, she thought, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt his feelings.

She rolled the piece of parchment and chased Pig who was hooting excitedly in circles around the room. After a few moments she managed to string the letter to the tiny owl's leg and sent him out the window, wondering if she had done the right thing.

Of course you have, the little voice in her head had told her, Harry's going to need you.

Or so she hoped anyway, she wanted Harry to just open up to her. She really felt she would be able to help in some way; or at least comfort him. The thought of the possibility that the Daily Prophet's report on the Prophecy and what it meant, ate away at her piece by piece.

The nature of the prophecy is unknown, although speculation is rife that it concerns Harry Potter, the only person ever known to have been at the Ministry on the night in question. Some are going so far as to call Potter the `Chosen One', believing that the prophecy names him as the only one who will be able to rid us of He Who Must Not Be Named

That fragment of the article chilled her down to the bone. Its not that she really hadn't thought of Harry having to face Voldemort in a final battle, and perhaps having to perish in the process; in fact, she thought about it so frequently, it brought her nightmares. But to actually read the words printed, brought a sense of reality, and with that reality came a true deep fear she wasn't ready to explore.

Anger had pulsed through her at the thought that Harry might have known the prophecy and hadn't told her… or rather her and Ron… The anger turned to hurt because she knew he probably was just afraid to tell them and would come around to it eventually, so the hurt turned to shame.

One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode.

Ron's voice had hung in the air like wet drawers on a clothes line; she really did feel like she just might explode. She pushed the thought aside after remembering her bitter comment she had made to her red headed friend.

“Hermione, dinner's ready, are you sure you don't want to come down and eat?” Her father's voice called from beneath the staircase.

“Yes dad, I'm sure… I'm just not hungry.” She called back.

“Alright, but if you change your mind, be sure to come down, okay?” Her mum called back.

“Mmhmm.” She replied, heaving herself out of the loveseat.

Half heartedly, she tucked her Charms book under her arm, and set off towards her room to pack the few items that weren't already neatly tucked in her trunk.

Crookshanks was quick to follow her closely behind. He pattered across the creamy colored carpet and neatly nestled himself in the center of her bed in a round ball, while continuing to observe her closely.

“Follow me everywhere don't you?” She questioned giving him a soft grin.

He blinked and began to purr, twitching his bottle brush tail in a gentle and swift motion.

She shook her head and marched over to her closet where she carefully folded her school robes and placed them on the very top. Her trunk felt rather full this year and shutting it was sure a chore; in the end she had to sit on top and secure the latches.

She stood back and admired the trunk from a distance, it looked like it might burst open any minute, but it would have to do.

She dropped on the bed next to her orange cat with a grimace, she forgot how tender her ribs still felt from being attacked by an unknown spell. Madam Pomfrey seemed to have healed her up quite well, but mending her broken ribs was something that would take time. Hermione never did let on that they were still bothering her of course, she didn't want her parents to worry for one, and Harry had always been so strong, she was quite determined to be the same way.

She remembered that crazy crusade in a bit of a haze, it all seemed to go by so quickly. Riding the Thestrials she couldn't see was probably the strangest and most bizarre experience she ever had, then the next thing she knew they were at the Ministry of Magic being chased by Death Eaters. It was all a rather frightening experience with spells flying in every direction, but she found she wasn't afraid for her own life; it was Harry she thought of most. Of course, she did worry about the others, but somehow her heart seemed to give a triple beat whenever Harry seemed to be in a tight situation.

Harry... Harry Potter… The Boy Who Lived…

And continues to live. She thought with a hint of admiration.

She didn't even remember how, or when the mysterious spell had hit her, all she remembered was seeing Harry's emerald eyes a moment before everything blurred and went black. She didn't even remember hitting the hard floor.

The sound of an owl hooting broke her trail of thought, her heart hammered furiously as she slid off her bed and advanced back towards the library.

Disappointment crawled through her stomach again when she saw the owl sitting patiently on the window ledge wasn't snowy white. Instead, it was a very large impressive eagle owl with bright round amber eyes.

“Hello Yana, have you got a letter from Viktor for me?” She questioned stroking the owl's smooth feathers.

The owl spread its wings and gave a little hop before stretching its leg out to Hermione. There was a small wrapped package with an envelope fastened on top.

Hermione freed the owl from her burden and gave her some owl treats she had picked up in Diagon Alley last year.

“Care to rest a moment?... I'll bring you some water and write Viktor a quick message back.”

The owl stared at her for a moment, blinked and ruffled its wings. Hermione took her response as an agreement.

“Okay, I'll be right back.” She said, feeling slightly odd talking to an owl, but Yana did seem to understand her the same way Crookshanks always had.

Hermione meandered down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Changed your mind about dinner?” Her father questioned cutting his steak.

“No… I'm just getting some water for Yana.” Hermione answered sifting through the cupboards for a suitable water dish.

“Use the small blue dish in the cupboard to your right dear.” Mrs. Granger instructed. “How is Viktor?”

“I hadn't had the chance to read it yet.” She answered retrieving the blue dish and closing the cupboard.

“Use the water from the jug in the fridge, it's colder.” Her mum suggested.

“Would it really matter for an owl?” Hermione questioned.

“Well… I don't know actually, Trevor?” Mrs. Granger directed her curiosity to her husband.

“Amelia let our daughter just take the owl some water?” He answered giving Hermione a sympathetic grin.

Hermione grinned back and filled the water dish from the tap.

“Are you sure that's a good idea though, that owl has come a long way, Bulgaria after all Trevor…”

“Yana will be just fine, let's finish our supper.” Mr. Granger concluded.

Hermione took the opportunity to dash back upstairs.

“There you are.” She said placing the dish of water by the beautiful owl before turning her attention to the package and letter.

Her fingers brushed across the wrapping paper and she carefully undid one of the sides, allowing the small box to slide out on the palm of her hand. Furrowing her eyebrows she opened the box and frowned further when she found the box completely empty. She picked the letter up wondering if it held some sort of explanation.

My Dearest Hermione,

If I guessed correctly, you've opened my gift first, if you had you discovered nothing inside. That's not a mistake, it is meant to be empty. You see Hermione, I'm sending you my heart. I really wanted to tell you all this in person last year when you were suppose to come to Bulgaria, but you said you couldn't come and see me, and I'll be going on tour with Quidditch, so I felt this as my only chance to tell you how I feel… I've said that I've never felt this way about any girl before, and I'll say it again and again until you believe me. You're very special Hermione, please say you'll be mine… we don't have to tell anyone, we can keep it a secret… I love you.

Love Always

Viktor Krum

Hermione felt her heart racing and could have sworn that her face glowed a beet red. What now? She thought. What could she possibly say to Viktor that wouldn't hurt him? Viktor was a dear friend and had always been on the receiving end of all her frustration and sadness, but he was a friend… a good friend and nothing more. Would she have the courage to write him and tell him exactly that?

Dear Viktor,

I must admit your letter caught me off guard… I wasn't expecting such deep words. You've always been so good to me, and I thank you for being a really good friend. Your advice and kind words have continuously brought me piece of mind, knowing that someone out there thinks and cares for me the way you do. It hurts me to have to tell you that I can't be yours, please understand me Viktor, you've done nothing wrong… I just… I just can't be with you. Take care of yourself on the tour, do try and write me… Good Luck.

Hermione

She felt rather ill folding up the letter and attaching it to Yana's outstretched leg. She knew the day would come when Viktor would ask her to be his girlfriend and knew well she would dread having to tell him that it couldn't happen, but she didn't know just how much it would hurt; how guilty it would make her feel. Here was Viktor Krum, someone who had seen her as a girl when no one else had, someone who connected with her on an intellectual level, and understood her emotional pains; and she couldn't love him the way he loved her. Hermione felt like a horrible person.

“Take care of him Yana.” She said softly sending the large eagle owl out the open window.

She nipped Hermione affectionately, just as Hedwig always did, and flew off into the darkened sky.

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Burrow the Lust

CHAPTER 2

“Want toast with that?”

“No thanks dad, I already had some.”

“But you've barely eaten anything sweetie.” Her mother protested.

“I'll eat some lunch at The Burrow.” Hermione answered before eating her last piece of bacon. “I'm going to get my things from upstairs.”

“I already brought them down for you.” Mr. Granger grinned.

“Thanks dad.”

“Anytime… so where do you get on this bus of yours?” He asked curiously.

“Anywhere really… well, where there's a road obviously. You really should try and find a place that's not too full of people, then you just sort of stick out your wand, and it appears.” Hermione explained.

“Incredible!” Her father answered in amazement.

Hermione tried to stifle her laughter as she was reminded of Mr. Weasley and his fascination with the Muggle world.

“This bus, is it safe?” Her mother questioned taking a sip of coffee.

“I've been on the Knight Bus before mum.” Hermione said in an attempt to avoid answering the question. She really didn't think she could honestly say that it was a safe experience, driving at what felt like a hundred miles an hour and stopping so suddenly that you often found yourself smashed up against a window.

“You worry too much dear.” Her father said softly to his wife.

“Well, I guess I best be off.” Hermione stated pushing her chair back towards the table, and giving her mother a peck on the cheek.

She did the same for her father before standing back and seeing the hint of sadness in their eyes. Remorse seemed to cloud her vision slightly as she recalled how little time she had to spend with them over the last year. She felt guilty enough leaving her Christmas vacation after she got word of Harry's crestfallen state, but now that feeling nearly tripled. Of course, her parents were always very understanding, but that's what seemed to hurt her most. Perhaps if they had been angry with her she would have decided that they had no idea what they were talking about, and that it was her life after all, not theirs.

“Take care of yourself Hermione.” Her dad said softly, breaking the mournful silence.

She nodded.

“And Hermione,”

She looked to her mother.

“Promise you won't go on any ludicrous missions in some sort of ministry affairs on account of your friends, or any other reason that may present itself.” Her mother finished sternly.

“Yes I agree with your mother, you could have been seriously hurt.”

Hermione then realized how little her parents really knew about the dangers she had faced through her years of Hogwarts. After all, she had been seriously hurt last year; she was lucky, very lucky to come out of that entire situation the way she had.

“I…I can't exactly promise that… all I can say is that I will be careful and that I love you both very much.”

“We love you too sweetheart.” Her mother said with a muffled sniffle.

“With all our hearts.” Mr. Granger added, cupping his hand on his wife's to comfort her.

Hermione made her way out of the kitchen and gathered her things near the entrance. After fighting Crookshanks into his carrier and an apologetic goodbye, she closed the front door behind her.

She ambled down the driveway and through the neighborhood street, until she felt safe from prying eyes.

“Lumos.” She said extending her wand towards the street just before her.

Her hair ruffled before a heavy wind struck her face, so strong that she had to close her eyes from the lifting dust.

There was a deafening BANG before an enormous triple-decker, violently purple bus appeared out of no where just before her.

A conductor in a purple uniform jumped out of the bus and surveyed Hermione for a moment, before clearing his throat and speaking loudly.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is,”

“Hello Stan.”

“So, we've met before then?”

Hermione nodded.

“Woos yer name?” Stan questioned rubbing his pimpled chin in thought.

“Hermione.” She said politely.

“ `Minee wha?” He persisted.

Hermione gave him a weak smile and handed over her eleven Sickles, before climbing on the bus.

“Choo hiding?” He questioned suspiciously, helping Hermione with her trunk.

She shrugged and took a seat near the front in a fluffy armchair.

“Hello Ern.” She greeted, crossing her legs and taking hold of the Daily Prophet that lay abandoned in the seat next to her.

“You know `er Ern?” Stan asked placing Hermione's trunk by her side.

Ernie swiveled sideways in his seat at the wheel of the bus and stared hard at her through his very thick glasses.

“Nope.” He said finally.

Stan shrugged and took his seat in the armchair next to the driver's seat.

“Where to?”

“Otterly St. Catchpole, just slightly south of there please.” Hermione stated briskly.

“Awh, yes… The Burrow?” Stan asked, taking his chance to observe her a little more closely.

“Yes.” She grinned.

Hermione hadn't expected to be delivered right up to Ron's house; she had figured Ern and Stan wouldn't know about The Burrow.

“Can't go right up to The Burrow can we Ern?”

“Nope.” Ernie answered. “Can get fairly near I think, you'll have to walk a short ways.”

“That's no problem.”

“Alright then...take `er away, Ern.” He directed. “ `Old tight then.”

BANG

Hermione plastered her hands to her eyes as the bus sprang to life, the force compressing her into the armchair as though she was sitting on the world's fastest roller coaster.

Prying her fingers slightly apart, she surveyed the many lamp posts, fire hydrants, bushes and parked cars lunging out of the way of the speeding bus for a moment, before her stomach tossed unpleasantly from the rapid movement. Everything was a complete blur.

“You really do look familiar.” Stan persisted, his eyes falling on the Daily Prophet next to Hermione. “I know who you is!”

Hermione arched an eyebrow, doubting very much that Stan even had the slightest idea who she was.

“You're `Arry Potter's girlfriend!... Ern, `ey Ern, its `Arry Potter's girlfriend!”

Ernie seemed to be concentrating too much on the road to take a glance backward, but he did give a slight jump every time Stan mentioned Harry's name.

Hermione flushed, and covered up her flustered emotion by spreading out the Daily Prophet just in front of her to hide her face.

“No… I'm not.” She stated in a rather dignified tone.

“ `Course not anymore, you've been USE-in `im havn't you? With that Krum bloke? Breakin `is `art!”

Hermione lowered the newspaper enough to stare over the top, at an angry Stan Shunpike, with widened eyes.

“What?” She questioned stupidly, hoping the whole outburst was some sort of joke.

“Still with Krum are yah? While `Arry's sitting there with those horrible muggles he `as for family, wishin' `e was in yer arms…All yer fault he's not `imself, lost `is godfather and you go `round two timin' `im!”

A flame burst in Hermione's dark brown eyes, before she could gain control, she found herself ripping the Daily Prophet and throwing it in Stan's face screaming at the top of her voice,

“It was a stupid article by that wretched Skeeter woman!- how is any of that my fault? I tried to get Harry to open up to me, well he won't!… so just lay off!”

Stan stood petrified a few feet in front of Hermione; opening and closing his mouth while bits of newspaper fell from his dark hair.

BANG

CRASH

With a moan, Hermione peeled herself from the front windshield of the bus; she had smashed up against it when the bus had come to its usual abrupt stop.

Brushing her clothes off and grabbing her luggage along with an empty carrier, she muttered a quick goodbye to Ernie before marching off the bus in pain; followed by her matted orange cat who growled with displeasure.

As the violently purple triple-decker bus disappeared just before her, she found herself dropping her luggage and gripping her ribs. They didn't feel broken again, but the agony was similar.

She took a few deep breaths to calm herself and pushed the pain into a far corner of her mind; it was all mind over matter after all, if Harry could do it, so could she.

She picked up her luggage bags and surveyed her surroundings.

“Oy Hermione!”

Startled, she had dropped her trunk which clattered loudly against the pavement and burst open; just missing her toes and scattering half her contents over the deserted road.

Shaking with intense rage, she clamped her teeth together and tried to steady her nerves.

“Shouldn't pack your trunk so full.” Ron said picking up a textbook from the pavement and casually flinging it into her open trunk.

“Ron!”

“What?” He asked innocently.

“Are you trying to ruin my life?” She questioned yanking the book from his hands and gently placing it in her trunk.

Ron scowled.

“Ruin your life, Ruin your life? What's that suppose to mean, Hermione-impossible-to-figure-out-Granger?”

“If you can't reason that on your own, that's your problem, you don't even know what you want!” She huffed, piercing his eyes with a look of venom.

Ron's ears turned blood red and he hurled another textbook into the trunk with rage.

“Don't throw my books!”

“I'm helping you!”

“I don't need your help!”

“Fine!” Ron thrust A Theory of Numerology quite forcefully against Hermione's sore ribs, causing her to bend slightly.

Crookshanks placed himself just in front of Hermione looking demonic with his ears pressed backwards, fangs bared in his puffed up protective form; hissing repeatedly and set in position to attack.

“Fine, I don't care!” He added before slumping off in the direction of The Burrow, muttering something about stupid cats and stupid women.

“Wait, Ron, wait!”

“Why should I?”

She caught up to him and bunched his sleeve in her delicate hand; he stopped and faced her, a scowl still etched on his reddened face.

“Just listen to me will you?” She pleaded softly.

He didn't say anything, just continued to stare into her dark almond shaped eyes.

“I'm sorry Ron, okay… I'm just… I'm on edge lately.” She had almost confessed her anxiety about Harry's state, when she realized it would stir Ron into further anger.

Ron nodded and silently helped Hermione clean up the remainder of her scattered belongings; she had half thought Ron was going to say something to comfort her, but he had said nothing.

They walked the short distance to The Burrow in silence; the tension was so thick it could have been cut with a knife.

She stopped him before the door to his home, with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Let's not argue, at least for the remainder of the summer,” for Harry, she thought, but instead a different explanation escaped her lips. “If we could put our differences aside, maybe we can get to know each other a little better.” She felt a hot blush sweep across her cheeks, and a heavy shame settle at the pit of her stomach for using Ron's weakness as a peace agreement.

He nodded and gave her a sheepish grin. His eyes glazed over as if he had just been given the world's best Quidditch broom, and Hermione felt her stomach twist in a nauseating knot.

What am I doing?

Just as she was about to explain herself and take it all back, the front door swung open. Hermione felt herself being smothered by Mrs. Weasley's loving embrace.

“So good to see you Hermione dear, so glad you were able to come, and Harry will be pleased I'm sure.”

Ron looked in the opposite direction at the mention of Harry's name.

“Come and have something to eat, you look so tiny, a wizard likes a witch with a bit of fat on you know.” Molly continued, ushering Hermione to a seat at the kitchen table. “What would you like dear?”

“Just some toast and jelly.” She smiled, knowing well that Molly never listened to breakfast requests.

Ron sat down a few chairs away from her with a bowl of porridge he obviously hadn't finished eating before he'd come out to meet her.

She watched him from the corner of her eye and when he gazed at her, she gave him a feeble smile. He didn't return one; instead, he tucked a full spoon of porridge into his mouth and took to staring out the kitchen window.

“How was your trip dear?” Molly questioned loading a pair of eggs on her plate.

“Eventful.” She stated truthfully, creasing her eyebrows at the thought of Stan Shunpike.

Mrs. Weasley watched her for a moment, obviously unsure of what to say before mumbling a quick, “That's good dear.” under her breath.

“Hermione, you're here!”

She felt a pair of arms curl gently around her neck from behind, and a handful of fiery red, smooth hair flowed over her right shoulder.

“How are you Ginny?” Hermione asked pulling out the seat next to her for Ginny to sit down.

“Horrible, this just might top my worst-summer-ever list.” Ginny answered with a grimace. “And it's all Phlegm's fault.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, while Ron rolled his eyes.

“Phlegm?”

“Ginny, for Merlin's sake, would you stop calling her that!” Molly warned crossly.

Ginny ignored her mother; with a heavy sigh she muttered,

“Fleur Delacour.”

“Oh…what, but I don't understand, how could Fleur,”

“Married… her and Bill are getting married,” Ginny announced.

“Well, then, that's…nice then isn't it?” Hermione questioned feeling particularly uncomfortable with the Weasley's family problems. She felt it wasn't her place to offer her distaste of Fleur before Mrs. Weasley; especially with such an announcement.

“Nice? …Come on Hermione, you've got to be joking; you hate her as much as I do. She's been here for three days and I've already decided I'd rather have Umbridge living here.” Ginny stated with heavy annoyance.

“She can't possibly be that bad.” Hermione laughed.

“Oh you'll be taking that back, spend a day here and you'll see.”

Hermione stole a glance at Ron who rolled his eyes again; she stifled a giggle and shook her head with amusement.

“So, uhh, when's Harry getting here?” She asked Ginny, noticing her blush at the mention of the boy in question.

“We're not really sure. Dumbledore's been busy and all, so it'll probably be some time tomorrow or the day after.”

“I hope its tomorrow, I've been itching to play some Quidditch out in the back.” Ron stated, his bitter mood fading in an instant.

Hermione sighed heavily.

“I… I'd like to be excused…I-I'm a little tired still…I think I'll go and lay down for a little while.” She stated avoiding all eyes; especially Ron's.

“Are you feeling ill dear?” Molly questioned, concern etched in her tone of voice.

“No… I'm fine Mrs. Weasley…I just need some rest.”

“If you're sure dear. You can rest in Ginny's room, it's all ready for you.”

Hermione gave Mrs. Weasley a quick nod and set off up the stairs at a brisk pace; Crookshanks followed at her heels.

Enclosing herself in Ginny's room, she leaned her back up against the door, allowing her head to loll backwards with a quiet thump. She closed her muddy brown eyes, feeling the hot tears swarm through them.

She felt so confused. Hermione Granger, the bloody all knowing, had no trouble reading emotions like an open book, couldn't figure herself out.

She'd always been so very close to both Harry and Ron, yet she had thought that there was something more with Harry; much more.

In fact, she became aware of it sometime during her fourth year and then was sure of her emotions as soon as she had seen Harry arrive at Grimmauld Place. Harry ignited a certain spark in her; it brought her to life, yet at the same time hurt her deeply, as she became painfully aware that he wasn't the least bit interested in her. Or so she had

calculated by his actions.

And then there was Ron.

She wasn't stupid; she knew very well that Ron fancied her. She knew very well how jealous he had been when Hermione had accompanied Viktor Krum as his date for the Yule Ball, and how he used argument as a form of displaying his feelings for her. It drove her ridiculously mad, and even made her feel uncomfortable at times, but she did have the occasional thoughts about him. Perhaps foolishly, she even half convinced herself that Ron would be a different person if she was to be with him; but to be honest with herself, Ron wasn't, and never was going to be Harry. He was however, extremely loyal and had a big heart, which were two attributes that were, without a doubt, enticing to her.

How so very confused she was indeed.

With another sigh, she ambled over to the bed and collapsed into the mattress.

Ginny wasn't kidding about this being the worst summer ever; no, forget summer, this would be her worst year ever. It was just something she felt deep down at the pit of her stomach.

Hermione curled up into the fetal position and wished to stay that way forever; or at least until she could sort out her troubles.

Her thoughts were stirred by a soft rap on the door. Ignoring it, she hoped whomever it was would just assume she was asleep, and leave her alone.

She exhaled irritably when the door creaked open ajar; allowing two pale blue eyes to watch her for a moment.

“I-I'm sorry Hermione, I just- I thought maybe you weren't sleeping, and we could talk?”

“That's alright Ginny, come on in.” Hermione replied reluctantly, patting the bed next to where she lay.

Ginny gave her a warm, weak smile as she strolled over to Hermione's curled form, and gently sat down next to her.

“So…you want to talk?...what about?” Hermione questioned, knowing well she wasn't going to like this conversation.

“It's…well…it's about Harry.” Ginny answered fidgeting her thumbs helplessly.

Hermione sighed; she knew it, she just knew this was going to be about Harry.

“You're not over him are you?” She questioned, wishing she hadn't asked.

Ginny shook her head.

“No…I'm not, I just can't stop thinking about him, you know?”

Hermione nodded patiently; inside her stomach squirmed unpleasantly.

“I'm ashamed to admit-I'd be kissing Michael, yet I'd pretend it was Harry.” Ginny confessed, staring at her shaking hands.

Hermione took a deep breath in an attempt to compose herself; yet her heart hammered uncontrollably deep within her ribcage. Her fingers wiped a stray tear from the young girl's face, and settled her light scarlet hair behind an ear.

“Don't cry Ginny, we all make mistakes.”

“Oh Hermione, I just want him to notice me.” She sniffled, wiping her eyes against her forearm. “But it's hopeless, completely hopeless.”

“No it's not,” Hermione said soothingly, pulling Ginny into an embrace. “You just…you just have to give Harry some time, he's got a lot on his mind.”

“I know I'm being selfish. He has Vol-err He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on his shoulders, and here I am crying because he won't notice me…I'm so stupid!”

“You're not stupid Ginny…you just have a lot of love to give to a boy who's not only clueless about girls and his emotions, but a boy who's quite determined to rid the world of evil.”

Ginny nodded, pressing her tears further into the shoulder of Hermione's blouse.

“You need to give Harry some space, he needs to grow up much faster then those around him because of everything he's faced, and will face in the future. He hasn't had time to mature in matters of the heart,” Hermione explained calmly, feeling as though she was giving herself a lecture. “Let him get to know you as a friend, someone he can count on, someone he can talk to…let him figure out what he wants and what he's looking for in life.”

“Maybe…maybe you're right Hermione.” The pretty, freckle faced, red head agreed. “I can do some dating and figure out what I want too.” She continued, giving the bushy haired girl a feeble toothy grin.

“Oh…well…yes, I suppose that wouldn't be a bad idea.” Hermione answered sadly.

“Hermione? You okay?”

“I-I'll be fine Ginny.” She said, giving the young girl an unconvincing smile.

“You sure?”

“Yeah…”

“Don't worry about Ron, he'll come around.” Ginny stated, giving Hermione a noticeable wink.

“Huh? Oh…right.”

“Can't you two just put your quarrels aside and get together already?” Ginny giggled.

“Me and,” Hermione blushed.

“Ron, yes…don't think I haven't noticed Hermione, and I'm not the only one you know?”

“What? Who else?”

“Ha, I'm not telling. But you're being ever so crewel playing hard to gets with that brother of mine, I like how your mind works, but don't be too hard on him, alright?”

“Listen… why don't you go ahead to the kitchen, and I'll meet you down there in a few minutes…I just want to change, okay?”

“Alright then, just so you know, you can talk to me when you need to Hermione. Oh, and watch out for Phlegm.” Ginny stated rolling her eyes, and making her way to the door where she closed it, rather hastily, behind herself.

Hermione pulled herself up into a sitting position and, for a while, just perched on the edge of the bed, willing her mind not to wander, but as usual, not succeeding.

Ginny still liked Harry…she liked him a lot, perhaps a lot more then Hermione would have thought, more then she would have liked to admit to herself.

Without really understanding it, she felt a sudden hole within, it ached with an unforgettable pain of daggers twisting their way through her delicate skin, and stabbing her already bleeding heart with sharp thrusts. It was a feeling that frightened her most, it was the familiar feeling of failure. She felt her eyes sting, while she fought back the flood of tears, ready to cascade down her pretty pale cheeks.

Harry and Ginny…Ginny and Harry.

It seemed rather obvious really; she being his best friend's sister, she being the young, beautiful version of his deceased mother, she enjoying Quidditch probably just as much as he does, she being fun, funny and flirtatious… so unlike herself.

She closed her eyes, allowing the salty tears to stream down her face from the sides.

With a heavy heart, she folded up the internal picture she had taken of Harry, and buried him deep within; so deep, that if she wished to find it again, it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Harry was her friend, she needed to accept that; she needed to forget the thought of Harry ever being something more to her, move on with her life, and open the possibility for others to take her heart and give her love.

She changed her tear stained shirt, ran her fingers through her bushy hair, and made her way down to the kitchen, determined to have a decent summer.

AUTHOR NOTE: My goodness, this chapter took a LONG time to write, it's still missing bits that I was sure I would be including in here, but it appears that'll have to wait until the next chapter… Thank you all for the support, hope you continue to enjoy this fan fic, it's a hard one to write, knowing the events of book six and such, but I'm glad I am given the freedom of Hermione's thoughts and entering events that didn't happen in the book… its an interesting adventure for me… Now, I must go and work on my other fan fic.

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AUTHOR NOTE: Well FINALLY Chapter 3… Sorry folks I've been away, overcoming some emotional turmoil and then working on my other fan fiction “A Drop of Eternal Sacrifice” which is nearly winding up to a close, though I've been saying that for ages so there'll still probably be quite a few chapters ha ha, and the sequel to it of course… but this fan fic is my side project and I like it, so you can be assured it'll be worked on, its just going to take me time to post chapters… I know I'm having a slow start here, but I think these bits are important so just bear with me =o) Take Care and I must say I was really surprised with the number of reviews I had, it felt really good and I thank you all for taking a moment to give me your opinions.

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Psychobabble

CHAPTER 3

“ `ermione! `avn't you grown since last time we've seen each `ozer! Vell, perhaps you `avn't changed all that much, I mean, you still look zee same.”

Hermione scowled at the half-Veela before her.

“What do you mean I `still look the same', why would I look any different?” She questioned angrily.

“Vell, you did make zee change for zee Yule Ball, I just thought perhaps you haff changed zee mind about looking…vell…zee way you do.” Fleur stated offhandedly.

“What's wrong with the way I look?” Hermione questioned further, staring dangerously at the beautiful woman.

Fleur shrugged and busied herself with drying the dishes.

“You von't attract `im zat way you know?”

Hermione's heart gave a painful thud in her chest.

“I-I don't know what your talking about.”

Fleur continued as if not even hearing Hermione speak.

“He likes you, you know? You `ad `is attention at zee Yule Ball, but `es not realizing `ow much you mean to `im yet.”

“W-What? Who?” Hermione questioned, the scowl fading from her face.

“I see your `art is unsure of vat it wants `ermione, I `ope in time you'll find each ozzer.” Fleur mused, as if she was talking to herself. “Zis ozer boy you like...he'z not right for you…forget about `im, `ell break your `art very quickly.”

“Who?...Who are you talking about?”

Fleur smiled sweetly at Hermione, as though she was the most adorable innocent child.

“Zat, you'll `ave to figure out on your own sweet `art.” She said, gently patting Hermione's cheek with her perfect hands before exiting the kitchen; leaving Hermione looking confused and more lost then she had ever felt.

`I shouldn't be here, why'd I come?' She thought, pushing open the front door, and marching across the front porch in frustration.

“Harry…” She whispered, staring out into the clear blue sky.

If only Harry was already there with her, she'd have a purpose, she'd be able to provide him with the comfort she was sure he needed; to fulfill her mission of mending his broken soul.

She settled herself on the porch swing; allowing the soft breeze to cradle her back and forth, her mind drifting to last summer.

“How do you think they'll announce prefects?” Ron questioned, running a wet rag along a dusty shelf.

“Mail, I suppose.” She shrugged, thumbing through one of the Black families many Tomes'.

“Who do you think will get it?” He asked again.

“Could be anyone really…” She answered avoiding Ron's watching eyes.

“Mum thinks Harry will get one.” He continued, his voice sounding slightly dejected.

“Well…I suppose he would have a good chance.” She blushed, covering her face with her bushy hair, keeping her voice casual and even.

She felt Ron's stare as they stood through an awkward silence.

“I think I know who'll definitely be a prefect.” He said softly.

“Oh?” She questioned nervously as he inched closer to her.

“Yeah.” He said placing his hand on her shoulder.

A shiver swept up her spine.

“You'll get one Hermione, if you don't, I'll eat my boxer shorts.”

Hermione grinned; it was times like these that she knew why she and Ron were best friends.

“That's sweet Ron, but I think there's a lot of people who deserve that badge.” She stated honestly.

“You work hard to earn it…if you don't deserve it, I don't know who does.”

“I'm not the only student who strives to do their best in school.” Hermione chuckled; putting the book carefully back on the shelf Ron had finished cleaning.

“Yeah, but you're the smartest.” He grinned.

She knew Ron caught her blush before she could cover her flushed cheeks with her bushy dark curls.

“Hey.”

Hermione jumped slightly. Looking up, she saw Ron towering over her.

“Hey.” She answered.

“Urrm…can I-mind if I…sit down?”

She nodded, scooting over to make more room.

“Thanks.” He said simply.

“You're welcome.” She replied softly.

“So…err…how's spew?”

“It's not spew Ron, its S.P.E.W.” She frowned.

“Right…sorry.” He apologized sadly.

She sighed; putting her feet up on the cushion of the porch swing, and wrapping her arms around her knees.

“It's, not going as well as I had hoped, I honestly thought I'd have more people interested by now… maybe I should just give up on the whole idea.”

“Yeah…maybe you should.”

Hermione felt her heart sink. She had wrongly depended on Ron to give her words of inspiration, something that would renew her faith in the cause she was fighting a losing battle with.

But Ron was just being honest. Perhaps she had genuinely thought that her dedication to S.P.E.W. had changed his mind on how house-elves should be treated.

“Hope I'm not interrupting something important.” Ginny beamed, throwing Hermione a quick glance, raising her eyebrows in a teasing manner.

“No, you're not.” Hermione said rather acidly. She hadn't meant it to come out quite as harsh, but Ginny was starting to annoy her somewhat.

“What're you two up to?” Ginny questioned, giving Ron a little nudge.

Ron flushed, his ears burning a shade of deep red.

“I was-I was just about to ask Hermione if she wanted to give me a hand with the garden gnomes.” Ron mumbled, fidgeting his feet.

“Degnoming? How romantic!” Ginny teased with a laugh.

Hermione rolled her eyes, while Ron looked away in a different direction.

“Say, how about you take Hermione down to the river for a swim?” Ginny questioned with a soft smile.

“Oh…well,” Ron started.

“And I'll take care of the degnoming.” Ginny added.

“You-You would?” Ron asked looking rather taken aback.

“Sure, Luna's coming over for a bit, so she'll give me a hand…she likes degnoming.” Ginny shrugged, looking quite pleased with herself.

“Wow, thanks Ginny, so…what do you say Hermione?” Ron asked Hermione excitedly, rocking the porch swing with a foot.

She looked from Ginny to Ron; he looked so excited, his blue eyes gleaming with a sense of hope. They were talking again and maybe, just maybe they wouldn't have to fight so much if they could patch things up somehow, how could she say no?

“Well,”

“Come on, it'll be fun, and when Harry comes we could all go together.” Ron persisted.

“Only under one condition.” She stated seriously.

Ron's face fell slightly as he looked at Hermione with a hint of confusion.

“And what's that?” He asked.

Ginny looked as though she was going to burst with laughter at any moment.

Hermione gave her a half smile, knowing Ginny felt the sarcasm in her tone of voice, and perhaps even knew what she was going to say.

“Last one in the water's a rotten squid.”

And with that she raced into the Weasley home, up the stairs, changing and furiously grabbing whatever she needed before racing back down.

Huffing and puffing she grinned madly when she realized she had beat Ron back down to the porch; as if on cue she saw him dashing down the staircase in his swimming trunks.

“Where's the river?” She questioned making her way down the porch.

“I'm not telling, if I do, I might be the rotten squid.”

“That's cheating.” She protested.

“You can't always be a fair winner you know?” He said.

“How does that work?”

“Well, competing against you is difficult, unless its chess… I need some advantage, even if it isn't exactly fair.”

She laughed.

“Oh Ron.”

He carried their things along the winding forest paths. They were mostly silent for much of the walk but it was a content silence, neither one of them feeling uncomfortable, and occasionally they would bring up a random topic or event.

He asked her how her summer was, and she elaborated on some aspects, but for the most part she tried to leave her worries about Harry out of the conversation. She wasn't quite sure why she chose not to, maybe it was the look in his eyes when she mentioned Harry's name, or maybe it was just that he already knew what she was going through; after all, he also worried about Harry and his future, though, she knew not quite to the extent she did.

He asked about her family, she told him about how uneasy they felt about letting her go back after last years events, and that she was frightened that something may happen to them, he reassured her that Dumbledore would have her home protected; she knew it would be true, especially since she was so close to Harry.

“So what about Bulgaria?” Ron questioned, breaking the eye-contact.

“Huh?”

“Well you didn't get a chance to go last year, I thought you said you would this summer.” He said shifting the bag he carried to his other shoulder.

“If you're asking if I went, I didn't.”

“Why not?”

“Does it matter?” She asked wondering where this was going.

“Just curious I guess.” He said, though she sensed there was more then just curiosity behind his questions.

“I wasn't well enough Ron, not after what happened at the Ministry.”

“Let's say you were well enough, would you go then?”

“… I-I'd go… why wouldn't I?”

Ron let out an exasperated sigh.

“You wouldn't have gone Hermione, just like you hadn't the summer Harry had to go to the Ministry hearing.” He concluded.

“Are you implying something?” She asked hastily, creasing her forehead.

“Listen, never mind, let's just forget it okay?”

“You're the one who brought it up.” She reminded.

“I know… I shouldn't have, let's just have some fun, we're almost there.”

Normally she might have added wood to the fire, but she really didn't want another argument, so she quickly agreed.

Ron was jealous; she really didn't know how to feel about that since the day she realized where his anger towards Krum was coming from. It was a mixed emotion where at certain moments she liked that he felt such strong emotions for her, it felt good to be wanted, and she felt pretty then. Yet, at other times it made her furious; it was none of his business who she liked, who she was seeing and what she did with them. Besides, if he really liked her so much, why didn't he just go ahead and do something about it?

Ron broke out into a run before Hermione could guess that the Otter River was just up ahead, he dropped their things at the edge and launched himself into the cool water.

“Ha, rotten squid!” He announced pointing at Hermione who shook her head.

“Yes, well, you only beat me because you cheated.” She stated.

“You mean I got my shirt wet for nothing?” He asked stripping it off and discarding it near their things.

Hermione felt her heart jump slightly.

Ron wasn't the long, skinny, gangly boy anymore. He wasn't athletically toned, but he had some muscle to him; she couldn't help but feel nervous when it was her turn.

She carefully undid the button and zipper of her shorts with shaky hands and slid them down her smooth legs.

Ron stared, making her blush slightly.

She crossed her arms and took a hold of each side of her tank top near her hips and pulled it up over her head in one smooth motion.

Ron's mouth fell open slightly.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably, portending not to notice. Shivering slightly at the look he was giving her, she swept up her messy tangle into a neat bun and hastily launched herself into the water a slight distance away from Ron.

“N-nice b-bikini.” Ron commented; his ears and face turning a Quaffle red.

“Thanks.” She murmured awkwardly, turning her head in order to hide her heavy blush; she couldn't help but wonder what exactly he really wanted to comment on, it surely wasn't really her swim suit choice.

They swam around for a while, the current seemed to be pretty even and wasn't difficult to manage against, Ron was quiet and she followed his example.

When she finally decided to sit in the sunshine on the shore in order to warm up, she noticed he followed her.

She spread her towel out on the sandy bank.

“Cold?” He finally asked.

“Yeah, a bit.” She answered honestly.

Ron fidgeted with the bag he brought with him and pulled out a thermos and a canteen.

“Tea?” He questioned again. “I also have some pumpkin juice if you don't want something hot.”

Hermione smiled shyly.

“Tea.” She decided, wondering if Ron had really prepared all of this.

They allowed the hot sun to dry them before Hermione slipped her tank top, shorts and shoes on, and they slowly made their way back to The Burrow.

“Hello Ronald!” Luna called waving her arms from the garden as Ron and Hermione approached the Weasley's home.

“Oh, ah, Hi Luna.” Ron answered, looking as though he wished she hadn't noticed them.

“Hello Hermione.” Luna called out again; though not quite as enthusiastically.

“Hi Luna.” Hermione greeted pleasantly.

She swept her hands against one another and made her way over to them, looking dreamily towards Ron.

“Unfortunately I can't stay Ronald, I'm going on a trip with my daddy. We'll be looking for the Manticore, there's rumors its hiding out in the vast New Zealand forests.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to give Luna Lovegood a thorough lecture on the difference between Mythological creatures and reality.

“Uhhh, right, sure…I guess, I'll urm, see you in school then Luna.” Ron stuttered looking at the door to their home as if planning a beeline for it.

“Come on Luna, I'll walk you home.” Ginny said while chucking the last garden gnome from the yard. “See you later Hermione.”

“Bye Ronald, have a good summer. Bye Hermione.” Luna chanted.

Ron waved goodbye awkwardly before he and Hermione made their way back to the house.

“That's completely barbaric.” Hermione stated under her breath.

“What is?”

“Hurling those gnomes from the garden like that.” She answered with a tone of voice Ron recognized well; it was the same tone she had when S.P.E.W was created.

“Oh no, don't you start that now, those gnomes are a menace, they're pests!” Ron barked, pushing the front door of his home open.

“Yes well, isn't there a kinder way of removing them from the garden?”

“Yeah, poisoning them out.”

“Ron that's not funny.”

“I wasn't being funny!”

Hermione scowled furiously. Pushing past him, she reached for her books before losing herself within piles of homework.

The evening began to settle over the Burrow when Hermione's mind began to drift from her task back to Harry again. He would be arriving tomorrow, she hoped it would be in the morning, but since he would be with Dumbledore it might be late afternoon by the time they arrive.

Ron poked his head around the doorway to the living room where she sat curled up in an armchair.

“Hermione?”

She didn't look at him; she was still upset at the way Ron acted when she tried to sympathize with those garden gnomes.

She recalled their conversation earlier.

“So…err…how's spew?”

“It's, not going as well as I had hoped, I honestly thought I'd have more people interested by now… maybe I should just give up on the whole idea.”

“Yeah…maybe you should.”

He would never understand.

“Hermione, I thought maybe, we could, err, play some chess?”

“I don't feel like it Ron.” She answered, pulling her book closer in an effort to make it look like she was working diligently on her homework.

“You've been at it for hours, come on, I'm getting tired of beating Ginny.”

“So you're looking for a new victim?” She said hastily.

“Err, not really, I just don't want to argue…like we promised.” He confessed shyly.

She raised her eyes and stared at him. He was really trying; it was true they were still arguing, but here he was trying to make things better.

“Okay.” She said softly when he turned his back.

“What?” he spun around.

“I'll come play some chess.”

He smiled and waited for her to close her books.

She glanced up into his face for a moment, gave him a soft smile and brushed past him.

Ron beat her at Wizard's Chess three times; she hadn't a single win before Ginny decided to have another round with Ron.

When Ginny finally managed a win, they all decided it was time for bed.

“Goodnight everyone.” Molly said happily, giving them each a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.

Hermione ascended the stairs after Ron who seemed to be walking extra slow, he turned around abruptly at the top when Ginny left for her room; it was so sudden she nearly ran right into him.

“Listen, I know this is a weird time to talk about this but, have you read the Daily Prophet?”

She looked sadly into his blue eyes and nodded.

“How they think there's a prophecy?”

She nodded again.

“You think it's true, what they're writing?” Ron questioned, taking hold on her wrists gently.

“I don't know Ron.” She answered feeling herself choke. “Do you, do you think Dumbledore's doing something with Harry because of the prophecy?”

“I was wondering that, yeah.” Ron answered, though he seemed to reflect a kind of excitement in his eyes rather than worry; almost as though he wished he was part of the adventure himself.

“I-I'm tired Ron, I'm going to go to bed.” She said avoiding his eyes and gently pulling her hands free from his grip.

“Goodnight Hermione.” He whispered as she disappeared into Ginny's room.

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AUTHOR NOTE: There you have it folks… I know it took forever, but I've just been so busy with school and my free time was spent on working on my other fan fic. As it's “my baby” so it comes first… but I have not abandoned this one, I still work on it as a side project and truthfully it does take quite a bit of time having to re-read the entire chapter and then have it propped open next to my keyboard where I have to follow it almost word for word… it'll be easier to write when we reach Hogwarts and I wont have to follow the book precisely because we get to follow Hermione around.. anyways.. I still hope you enjoy… Happy Holidays guys!

The Boy with Suppressed Emotions

CHAPTER 4

Hermione awoke the next morning half on and half off the bed next to Ginny's.

She groaned unhappily about the prospect of having to pull herself back up, and in the end she decided to let herself drop to the floor with a heavy thud, bunched in her covers.

Stretching, she peered over at Ginny who was still sound asleep.

With a deep yawn she pulled herself up off the floor, deciding to wait for Ron and Ginny in the kitchen.

Hermione pulled her bathrobe over her nightdress and descended the stairs on tip toe.

“I best be off Molly, do be careful and take care of yourselves, wont you?”

It was Dumbledore's gentle voice that reached her ears first; she decided on not making herself present quite yet in case anything was said about Harry.

“You know I will Albus.” Molly answered softly.

“Before I go, might I enquire about Percy?” Dumbledore questioned carefully.

There was a long pause.

“He hasn't come back Albus, I don't understand, everyone knows Voldemort's back.”

“I'm truly saddened Molly, but, most unfortunately, there are people who find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong, then forgive for being right.”

Hermione felt her heart give a sympathetic throb for Mrs. Weasley, she was at least glad to see Molly was no longer crying at the mention of her son's name.

“If ever you should need me Molly, you do know how to alert me, never hesitate to do so.” Dumbledore instructed.

“Of course Albus, take care of yourself as well, oh and take a scone with you won't you?”

“Thank you, your cooking is most superior.”

Hermione imagined Molly blushing.

There were a few graceful strides; probably to the fireplace.

“Goodbye Molly.”

And then a roar as Dumbledore floo'd out of The Burrow.

Hermione hesitated for a few moments on the staircase before making her presence to Mrs. Weasley.

“Good morning Hermione dear.” Molly chimed happily while shuffling ungracefully around the kitchen shooting spells in every direction.

“Good morning Mrs. Weasley.”

Hermione ducked as a pan came shooting over her head.

“You're always up so early.” Molly commented without noticing how dangerous all the flying utensils, pans, food and cleaning products were.

“Just couldn't sleep I guess.” Hermione responded side stepping away from the sweeping broom.

“Yes, I'm an early bird myself.” Molly chortled with delight. “Are you going to be on the porch dear?”

Hermione smiled gently; this had become her ritual when visiting The Burrow. She would watch the sunrise on the porch swing, and sometimes even fit in a bit of light reading until everyone was up for breakfast. Mr. Weasley usually left early for work but the breakfast table at the Weasley's was never truly empty.

“Yes, if that's alright.”

“Of course it is dear.” Molly answered cheerfully.

“Did any owls come through this morning?” Hermione asked nervously.

“No dear, not yet.”

Hermione slowly made her way through the kitchen and out the front door where she took in a deep breath of morning air.

The sky was painted in dazzling streaks of pink, bright yellow and a violet blue hung below the thick puffy clouds.

A beautiful morning.

Hermione felt her heart quicken at the thought of Harry's arrival and hoped he would be here sometime after breakfast; she was looking forward to throwing her arms around his slender frail form, and peering into his dark green eyes to search for words that need not be said between them because of their special understanding.

They were friends though… just friends.

Her thoughts fell to Harry's loss of his godfather, and she recalled the hollow look in Tonks' eyes; she felt a shiver trail up her spine at the thought of Harry being in the same condition.

Don't worry Harry, I'm here for you…I'll save you, like you always save me.

She chuckled at how cheesy that sounded.

The porch door opened from the kitchen; Ron was sure up earlier than normal, she thought.

“Zis, is incredible, all I want to do is help with ze breakfast!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. It wasn't Ron after all, it was Phlegm.

“Zis `ouse is so boring, I'm going to go crazy eef I am not given something to do.”

“Then why are you here?” Hermione felt herself ask aloud without meaning to.

“For Bill of course, he thinks zis will change z'air mind and be `appy for us.”

Hermione bit her tongue to keep herself from saying what was going through her mind. The truth was, Hermione strongly believed Bill and Fleur were simply together because Fleur thinks Bill is handsome, and Bill thinks Fleur is gorgeous; no real connection, no real love.

Not that she really knew nor understood love herself; but she liked to think it came with years of loyalty, sharing inner thought, being there for one another in times of happiness and in times of great need, and the ability to understand one another on a very deep and personal level.

“Breakfast!” Molly called, while Ron poked his head out to the girls on the porch.

“Come on then, I'm starving!” He announced, his ears turning bright red when he realized Fleur was on the porch as well.

Hermione shook her head disapprovingly and marched back to the kitchen in a huff where she settled herself beside an empty seat at the table.

Ron sat across from her.

“Who's the extra seat for?” He questioned his mother.

“For Harry.” She said simply, passing the basket of bread to Ginny.

“He's here?” Hermione jumped from her chair, knocking it backwards.

“Can we see him?” Ginny mimicked, though her chair didn't clatter to the ground as Hermione's had.

“I will not have you three waking him up yet, he's asleep.” Molly decided gently.

Hermione set her chair back on all fours and slumped into it. She picked at her toast before realizing she wasn't hungry at all anymore, and just sat there with her elbows propped against the table.

“Hermione dear, won't you eat something more?” Molly questioned with concern.

“Oh, well… I'm not really hungry right now, thanks Mrs. Weasley.”

Molly gave a little chuckle, her eyes glistening while lingering on Hermione.

“Alright, he has a whole summer to rest, go on, I'll be up there in a minute to bring him some breakfast.” Ginny, Ron and Hermione nearly leap off their chairs in unison. “Not you Ginny dear, you finish your breakfast first.”

They heard a distinct disapproval from the young Weasley sister while bounding up the stairs.

Hermione had made it to the top first; in all her excitement she practically threw herself against the door, causing the handle to slip from her grasp and slam against the opposite wall.

She just stood there watching him from the entrance to the room as though in a trance, while Ron hastily drew the curtains causing a burst of sunlight to reveal a raven haired boy shielding his eyes from the bright sun and desperately searching for his glasses.

“Wuzzgoinon?” He mumbled.

Hermione took note of how adorable he looked with his messier than usual hair.

“We didn't know you were here already!” Ron proclaimed excitedly, before giving Harry a playful smack to the head.

“Ron, don't hit him!” She protested, frowning.

Harry had managed to find his glasses and put them on.

“All right?” Ron questioned eyeing Hermione's displeasure at his actions.

“Never been better,” Harry answered as he rubbed his head. “You?”

“Not bad, when did you get here? Mum's only just told us!” Ron continued.

“About one o'clock this morning.” Harry said, seeming to emphasize the fact that he was still tired.

Hermione felt slightly guilty for waking him up, especially with such a clatter.

“Were the Muggles all right? Did they treat you OK?” She questioned with concern, slowly making her way to Harry's bed before gently perching herself on the edge.

“Same as usual,” he said casually. “They didn't talk to me much, but I like it better that way. How're you, Hermione?”

“Oh, I'm fine.” She answered trying to give him a convincing smile.

She searched him for a moment with sad eyes.

“What's the time? Have I missed breakfast?” He questioned avoiding her deep gaze.

“Don't worry about that, Mum's brining up a tray; she reckons you look underfed…”

Her mind trailed off for a moment as she watched Harry closely. True, he did look thinner then he had ever looked, yet there were no signs of despair, no sadness in his demeanor, no evidence of any internal hurt as she had imagined she would see; none, except his eyes that once shone brightly, were replaced by a pale green.

“He just wanted me to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name's Horace Slughorn.”

“Oh,” Ron said, disappointment etched in his tone. “We thought,”

She widened her eyes and shot Ron an acid look. Didn't he know any better than to blurt out the first thing that came to his mind?

“We thought it'd be something like that.” Ron finished.

Her attention fell back to Harry, wondering if he bought the obvious lie.

“You did?” He asked, sounding amused; she wasn't sure what exactly he found amusing, the lie, or that he actually knew it was a lie.

He was different somehow; carefree, almost too carefree. Did he truly not care that Sirius was no longer a part of his life anymore? And what about the supposed prophecy in the Daily Prophet, was it true? She knew he was reading the paper, it was his only connection with the magical world besides herself and Ron during the summer, maybe it really wasn't true so therefore it just didn't matter to him.

“Something wrong Hermione?” He asked, startling her from her inner thoughts.

Again she softened her features and gave him an awkward grin.

“No, of course not! So, um, did Slughorn seem like he'll be a good teacher?”

“Dunno, he can't be worse than Umbridge, can he?”

Ginny slouched into the room.

Hermione raised an eyebrow wondering what had changed her excitement about Harry's arrival.

“I know someone who's worse than Umbridge.” She announced. “Hi, Harry.”

“What's up with you?” Ron questioned, obviously thinking the same as Hermione.

“It's her,” Ginny continued, plopping down next to Hermione. “She's driving me mad.”

“What's she done now?” Hermione asked gently, failing to take notice of Harry's confusion.

“It's the way she talks to me - you'd think I was three!”

Hermione knew exactly what Ginny meant. Fleur Delacour gave off a presence as though she was queen of the world all because she was getting married to Bill. She was honestly tired of having her at The Burrow and she had only been there a few days; Ginny was true to her word indeed.

“I know she's so full of herself.” Hermione stated with a shake of her head.

“Can't you two lay off her for five seconds?” Ron snapped at the two girls.

“Oh, that's right, defend her,” Ginny snapped back. “We all know you can't get enough of her.”

“Who are you,” Harry tried to ask.

Hermione only then caught the look on Harry's face, he looked positively bewildered; she nearly laughed out loud but was stopped by Fleur's presence in the doorway.

“ `Arry! Eet `as been too long!”

Hermione rolled her eyes while Ginny made barely audible gagging noises.

“There was no need to bring up the tray, I was just about to do it myself!” Molly protested looking positively cross.

“Eet was no trouble,” Fleur announced giving Harry his breakfast and kissing both his cheeks.

Hermione felt herself scowling in disgust. Crossing her arms, she turned slightly away from Fleur and ignored the half Veela until she had well left the room.

Molly followed soon after, popping her head back in to order a protesting Ginny Weasley to help her in the kitchen with lunch.

“What's this?” Hermione questioned curiously, holding out what resembled a small telescope.

“Donno, but if Fred and George've left it here, it's probably not ready for the joke shop yet, so be careful.” Ron warned.

Harry asked about the joke shop, and Ron expressed his excitement at the chance to finally see the place. Secretly, she also couldn't wait to see the shop herself, she was really happy for them.

“And what about Percy?” Harry asked. “Is he talking to your mum and dad again?”

“Nope.” Ron answered.

“But he knows your dad was right all along now about Voldemort being back,” Harry reflected.

“Dumbledore says people find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right, I heard him telling your mum Ron.” Hermione explained, being careful not to mention she had eavesdropped on Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore this morning.

“Sounds like the sort of mental thing Dumbledore would say,” said Ron while Hermione frowned in disapproval; she thought Dumbledore had it right.

“He's going to be giving me private lessons this year,” Harry explained casually.

Hermione felt herself gasp.

“You kept that quiet!” Ron choked on a bit of toast.

“I only just remembered, he told me last night in your broom shed.” Harry answered with a shrug.

“Blimey… private lessons with Dumbledore,” Ron said with widened eyes. “I wonder why he's,”

She jabbed Ron in the ribs with an elbow hoping Harry hadn't noticed; Ron exchanged a glance with her, proving he was also thinking about the prophecy.

Harry seemed to recess into his thoughts for a moment.

“I don't know exactly why he's going to be giving me lessons, but I think it must be because of the prophecy.”

She nearly smirked, hardly believing that Harry was actually believing the Daily Prophet's interpretation of the prophecy.

“You know, the one they were trying to steal at the Ministry.”

“Nobody knows what it said though, it got smashed.” She countered aloud her thoughts.

“Although the Prophet says,” Ron began.

“Shh!” She spat at Ron, giving him yet another firm elbow in the ribs.

“The Prophet's got it right,” Harry said slowly.

She paled, her heart racing wildly in her ribcage giving her the sensation of a roaring ringing sound in her ears.

“That glass ball that smashed wasn't the only record of the prophecy. I heard the whole thing in Dumbledore's office, he was the one the prophecy was made to, so he could tell me.” He paused for a moment, a slight frown coming across his forehead.

She tried to swallow; she wanted to put her arms around him, to tell him that everything would be alright…that Dumbledore couldn't be right, that the prophecy couldn't be right.

But he took a deep breath and continued.

“From what it said, it looks like I'm the one who's got to finish off Voldemort… at least, it said neither of us could live while the other survives.”

She stared at him, her eyes conveying every ounce of her fear; she clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering and squeezed the telescope in her hand in an effort to fight her inevitable tears.

BANG

“Hermione!” She heard both boys shout as she coughed, emerging from a cloud of smoke.

“I squeezed it and it-it punched me!” She gasped waving the telescope as a tiny fist dangled on a spring from the end.

Her eye was hurting and she couldn't seem to open it.

“Don't worry, Mum'll fix that, she's good at healing minor injuries,” Ron reassured her; though she did notice he was choking back a fit of laughter.

“Oh, well never mind that now!” She said hastily before her good eye fell on Harry who sat half slumped on the bed. Her face softened and she sat down next to him. “Harry, oh Harry…” Her voice dropped to a soft murmur. “We wondered, after we got back from the Ministry…obviously, we didn't want to say anything to you,”

His eyes lingered on hers, almost as though not believing her mistrust; they grew saddened, but she gently ploughed on.

“but from what Lucius Malfoy said about the prophecy, how it was about,” She paused for a moment, her eyes losing their eye contact with Harry's “you and Voldemort, well, we thought it might be something like this…oh Harry…” Her eye's fell on his again, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you scared?”

“Not as much as I was when I first heard it, I was… but now, it seems as though I always knew I'd have to face him in the end…”

“When we heard Dumbledore was collecting you in person,” Ron began eagerly, chancing a glace at Hermione to weigh her approval. “we thought he might be telling you something, or showing you something, to do with the prophecy, and we were kind of right, weren't we?” She watched Harry nod slowly. “He wouldn't be giving you lessons if he thought you were a goner, wouldn't waste his time- he must think you've got a chance!”

She couldn't help but grin slightly at Ron's enthusiasm, it was quite contagious, and by the look that came over Harry's face it seemed to calm her raven haired friend.

“That's true,” She said feeling her heart drum against her ribcage. “I wonder what he'll teach you, Harry? Really advanced defensive magic, probably…powerful counter-curses… anti-jinxes…” She listed slowly, allowing the possibilities to settle in and realizing how much new material she would have to read in order to help Harry at all in these private lessons. “…healing charms might come in handy, and evasive enchantments generally. Well, at least you know one lesson you'll be having this year, that's one more than Ron and me.” Ron rolled his eyes evidently tired of her anxiety towards their final year classes. “I wonder when our O.W.L. results will come?”

“Can't be long now, it's been a month.” Ron answered with a worried grimace.

“Hang on, I think Dumbledore said our O.W.L. results would be arriving today!” Harry announced without noticing Ron's lack of eagerness.

“Today?” She shrieked; her dark eyes widening as she leapt to her feet. “Today? But why didn't you- oh my God- you should have said- I'm going to see if any owls have come.”

Hermione tried to maintain her composure while bounding down the stairs two by two.

She spotted Mrs. Weasley and leapt towards her causing Molly to gasp in surprise.

“HarrysaidO.W.L.'sarrivetodayaretheyhereyet?”

“I'm sorry, what did you say Hermione dear?”

She took a deep breath and steadied herself on the kitchen counter.

“Did any owls arrive yet?”

“No not yet,” Molly answered. “My heavens, what in Merlin's beard happened to your eye?”

“Oh…oh it's nothing Mrs. Weasley, silly really, this telescope punched me.” She forced a sort of fake laugh, wondering just how bad her eye really did look.

Molly shook her head and shuffled over to the shelf of books in the kitchen and pulled out The Healer's Helpmate.

“I'll have that fixed in no time.” She reassured Hermione while flipping to the appropriate page with a confident grin. “Awh, yes, now I remember… Amendio negrojo.”

She saw the flicker of yellow light from Mrs. Weasley's wand, and moments later she watched as Molly's grin faded.

“What's wrong Mrs. Weasley?” She questioned feeling the heat rise around her collar as Harry and Ron entered the kitchen, followed by Ginny and a curious looking Fleur.

“It just won't budge,” Molly answered anxiously before putting her focus on the book in an effort to make sure she preformed the spell correctly. “This has always worked before, I just can't understand it.”

“It'll be Fred and George's idea of a funny joke, making sure it can't come off.” Ginny explained.

“But it's got to come off!” She squeaked, suddenly hating the idea of Fred and George having their own joke shop. “I can't go around looking like this for ever!” Hermione continued feeling herself at the brink of tears; she didn't normally care too much about her appearance, but having to go around with a black eye was just too much.

“You won't dear, we'll find an antidote, don't worry,” Mrs. Weasley said soothingly while giving her gentle pats on the shoulder for reassurance.

Fleur who had been watching looked as though she could hold her thoughts no longer and with a sincere smile she announced `Bill told me `ow Fred and George are very amusing!' oblivious to Hermione's feeling of panic.

“Yes, I can hardly breath for laughing,” She barked hotly at the Veela before jumping to her feet and trotting circles round the kitchen; subconsciously twisting her fingers together in nervous tension. “Mrs. Weasley, you're quiet , quite sure no owls have arrived this morning?”

“Yes, dear, I'd have noticed,” Molly answered patiently. “But it's barely nine, there's still plenty of time…”

Still pacing she barely heard Mrs. Weasley answer her question which she needn't ask because she was well aware of her answer.

She bit her lip thinking about her exams.

“I know I messed up Ancient Runes,” She muttered glancing in Harry's direction. “and Defence Against the Dark Arts practical was no good at all,” Frowning, she began to doubt herself in all her subjects. “I thought Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking back,”

“Hermione, will you shut up, you're not the only one who's nervous!” Her frown was quickly turning into a scowl as Ron ploughed on. “And when you've got your eleven `Outstanding' O.W.L.'s,”

“Don't, don't, don't!” She flapped her hands furiously.

Who did he think she was? This was it, this was partly why she felt the need to hysterically panic beyond reason; she was Hermione Granger the know it all, Hermione Granger the smart one who would never get anything less than perfect, who couldn't possibly fail anything, right?

No, wrong… wrong, wrong, wrong…

She had to study her butt off to get the results she obtained and each year it was becoming more difficult to come out on top. And she had to; not only for herself, but now she had this… this identity to her name and it was this part of her that contributed to Harry's success, it was this part of her that managed to keep him alive, it was this part of her that made her rational and understanding.

If she lost it, even just slipped from being `the best in her year' she might lose him as a best friend forever. Ron would stay, she never had to prove herself to him, but she didn't know what she would do with herself if she became useless to Harry.

“I know I've failed everything!” She cried in frustration.

As if to add to her trouble, Harry had to ask “What happens if we fail?”

His face tried to show no worry, but Hermione saw it.

She sighed.

“We discuss our options with our Head of House,” Harry looked rather sick. “I asked Professor McGonagall at the end of last term.”

Fleur was saying something about Beauxbatons but Hermione wasn't listening, she burst into a screech, pointing at three specs in the sky.

“They're definitely owls.” Ron stated joining her next to the window, followed by Harry who added, “And there are three of them.”

“One for each of us,” She grabbed both Harry and Ron's elbows tightly shivering in sheer nervous anticipation. “Oh no… oh no… on no,” She mumbled deliriously.

She ran to the owls and hastily untied her letter with shaking hands.

Tearing the seal, she opened her letter and felt her heart dart to her throat.

She heard Ron and Harry saying something behind her, but she didn't hear what it was they were saying, al she could focus on was the feeling of failure. She wasn't on top; she didn't get the eleven O's that Ron said she would obtain.

“Hermione?” It was Ginny. “How did you do?”

“I-not bad,” She answered in a small voice before Ron ripped the page from her trembling hands.

“Yep-ten `Outstandings' and one `Exceeds Expectations' in Defence Against the Dark Arts… you're actually disappointed, aren't you?”

Harry laughed as she shook her head; she felt her cheeks grow warm.

Why did it have to be Defence Against the Dark Arts? Why not Ancient Runes instead?

How was she supposed to be an aid to Harry where she failed in the skill most needed for his survival?

Snatching her results back from Ron, she fled back up to Ginny's room where she could try and sort out where she went wrong

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