Hermione was feeling terrible. These last few days had been unbearable; Ron wasn’t talking to her and Harry refused to take her side at all. To be fair to him, he hadn’t agreed with Ron either, but Hermione felt that she deserved a shoulder to cry on. She didn’t even understand Ron’s sudden cold indifference, especially as she had begun to feel that something might be eventually beginning to happen between the two. Hadn’t she explained Ron’s jealousy to Harry back in their fourth year? Why couldn’t he return the favour and tell her what she had done to offend Ron now?

But of course, Harry remained as tight-lipped as ever. He followed her round loyally, gallantly offering to carry her bags, but to be honest, she was sick of his puppy face whining at her all the time. She was fond of Harry, but he exasperated her and he distracted her from vital studying. She just wanted to be alone for a while, to figure out how she was going to close the gap Ron had created between them.

However, this seemed more and more unlikely as the week progressed. Harry was forcing his team to spend every spare moment in preparation for Saturday’s match, and by Friday the entire Gryffindor side was as thoroughly sick of Ron as she was. His sneering sarcasm had brought a young girl called Demelza to tears, and a few others had reached breaking point. She heard Ginny and Dean muttering about him angrily on her way to dinner, and wondered if perhaps it wasn’t specifically to her his temper was directed.

She reached the Great Hall to find Ron sitting dejectedly on the benches, glumly toying with his steak-and-kidney pudding as Harry murmured encouragements at him in a steady stream. “Hello, you two,� she said as brightly as she could.

“Hey, Hermione,� Harry muttered, but Ron said nothing at all.

“What’s the matter, Ron?� she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

“Nothing at all, everything’s just fine,� Ron hissed at her.

“I only asked, because you look a little down…� she faltered nervously.

“Oh, I do, do I? I wonder why that is?� he muttered grumpily. Harry shrugged at her and she sat down and began to help herself to dinner. Clearly, it was pointless to attempt to continue the conversation.




Hermione came downstairs on the day of the match alone, to a Great Hall buzzing with excitement. The ceiling was a clear blue, perfect conditions. She went to sit with Ginny, but paused behind Harry and Ron, and asked, “How are you both feeling?�

Neither boys seemed very inclined to answer. Ron was a nasty pale green colour, and Harry was carefully pouring a glass of pumpkin juice. He handed it to Ron, watching him closely. “There you go, Ron. Drink up.�

Hermione looked at Harry suspiciously. Even in his panicked state, Ron was perfectly capable of pouring his own drink.
There was no reason for Harry to give him one. Unless…

“Don’t drink that, Ron!� she yelped.

Ron lowered the glass that he had set upon his lips. Both boys stared at her. In turn, Hermione glared at Harry, completely aghast. “You just put something in that drink!�

“Excuse me?� Harry asked innocently, but Hermione wasn’t fooled.

“You heard me,� she said menacingly. “I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron’s drink. You’ve got the bottle in your hand right now!� she announced.

Harry convulsively clutched his side, where the pocket hung. His guilty face was evidence enough. “Ron, I warn you, don’t drink it!� she said in alarm, but Ron coolly picked up the glass and gulped it down. He exhaled loudly after his swig and said “Stop bossing me around, Hermione.�

Hermione was outraged. She couldn’t believe this of Harry. “You should be expelled for that, Harry. I’d never believed it of you, Harry,� she whispered.

“Hark who’s talking. Confunded anyone lately?� Harry grinned smugly. Hermione gasped audibly, as if she had be struck in the ribs. That was low. She held her head up high and marched away.

Hermione was far too angry to finish to her meal, and pounded through the Entrance Hall and out into the grounds.
Despite the bright sun, the grass crackled with hard-set frost, and her shoes crunched the sniff fronds satisfactorily. As always, the breath-taking scenery calmed her and soothed her, and she headed for the stands, her argument with Harry momentarily forgotten. She took a seat in the stands and awaited the beginning of the match without the fervour of her fellow Gryffindors. She had never really enjoyed the sport at the best of times.

A roar erupted around her as the fourteen players strode onto the pitch, their postures varying from confident and calm (Ginny) to downright terrified (Ron). A whistle sounded, and the figures sprang into the air. Hermione whipped round in surprise as Zacharias Smith’s hateful voice boomed out through the stadium. While she had no particular reason to hate him, Hermione couldn’t allow herself to feel favourably about the Hupplepuff.

Hermione settled down to watch the match, an uneasy ache in her chest as she thought of the crime Harry had committed that morning at the breakfast table. The more goals Ron saved, the more she became convinced that her hunch was true.
She looked on glumly as Ron began to conduct the crowd as they sang through Weasley is our King. Honestly. It wasn’t like he was actually accountable for his apparent success. She looked away in disgust.

However, this backfired, because she seemed to have missed a vital moment; an incident involving Harry and the Slytherin seeker Harper. When she caught up with the game, both were streaking upwards towards the unseen Snitch. Harry was gaining, but Harper was already far ahead. The Slytherin’s hand was about to close when Harry shouted something indistinct. Harper fumbled it, and Harry swiped out, grabbing the golden ball with the very tips of his fingers. The match was won, but Hermione felt no elation, just a niggling guilt that she should have somehow stopped the blatant cheating performed by her two best friends.

The crowd sank to the ground in triumph, all laughing and crying out victoriously. Clearly, they felt no remorse for their actions. Hermione stood up, dry-mouthed but determined. She followed the exuberant team to the changing rooms and waited nervously outside for Ron and Harry to appear. They were last.

“I want a word with you, Harry,� she said firmly, breathing deeply to keep herself controlled. “You shouldn’t have done it.
You heard Slughorn, it’s illegal.� She was shaking ever so slightly from the effort of confronting the two people who meant the most to her in the whole castle, but she was steadfast that this rule-breaking would not go unchecked.

“What are you going to do, turn us it?� jeered Ron, cockily.

Harry turned away from them, his ears red. “What are you two talking about?� he asked nonchalantly, despite his uncomfortable body language.

“You know perfectly well what we’re talking about!� Hermione exclaimed angrily. “You spiked Ron’s juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!� Her voice was too high, too accusing, but she didn’t care. She was furious with Harry with his off-hand attitude.

“No I didn’t,� Harry said, facing them both.

Hermione could have screamed with frustration. She knew she was right. “Yes you did, Harry, and that’s why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!�

Harry grinned infuriatingly in the face of her anger. “I didn’t put it in!� He pulled out the miniscule vial she had seen that morning. The bottle was full and the seal unbroken. Hermione staggered slightly. So Harry hadn’t done anything wrong after all.

“I wanted Ron to think I’d done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking.� Hermione felt dazed; amazed that Harry could have used her like that, all for a stupid Quidditch game. Harry was still talking, this time to Ron. “You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself.�

Ron turned white and sounded just as astonished as Hermione felt, though not nearly as upset. “There really wasn’t anything in my pumpkin juice? But the weather’s good… and Vaisey could play… I honestly haven’t been given a lucky potion?�

Harry shook his head, smiling broadly. Ron stared at him, before rounding on Hermione. His voice shook as he took on a cruel, shrill version of Hermione’s voice. “You added Felix Felicis to Ron’s juice this morning, that’s why he saved everything! See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!�

Hermione felt completely wrong-footed. She had come here with the idea of making the boys see how wrong their prank was, making them understand, perhaps even calling for a re-match. But now, inexplicitly, the tables had been turned, and she was once again exposed to Ron’s callousness. She felt close to tears as Ron’s face loomed over her, red and angry.
“I never said you couldn’t – Ron, you thought you’d been given it too!� Hermione tried to reason, but Ron stalked past her out of the changing room door, a smug, self-satisfied grin plastered on his face.

Hermione felt completely helpless. She had no idea why Ron was being so insufferable, but she knew that it was making her far more miserable than she had been in a long time.

Harry coughed awkwardly. “Er, shall… shall we go up to the party, then?� he asked, not meeting her eye. Of course. In his head, he was siding with Ron, defending his friend’s cruelty, judging Hermione’s words.

“You go!� she cried, suddenly feeling the overwhelming urge to lay her head in her arms and sob. “I’m sick of Ron at the moment, I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done… “

She followed Ron through the door, too depressed to return to the noise and bustle of the common room yet. She meandered slowly up to the Entrance Hall, completely lost. She had half a mind to go study in the library, but she didn’t think she could bear the silence just at that time. She decided that she really just wanted to sink into her bed and not have to worry about Ron, Felix Felicis or anything else until the morning. She climbed through the portrait hall and made her way to the stairway for the girls’ dormitories, but couldn’t resist seeking out Ron amongst the crowd first.

And then she saw him, in a darkened corner away from the brightness of the fire. And he wasn’t alone. Lavender Brown was pressed so close to him it was difficult to distinguish between the two. He was holding her upturned face in his hands and kissing her passionately.

Hermione felt sick, physically sick. She felt her stomach drop like a ton weight, and her throat tightened. All she could feel was anger, and burning, terrible jealousy, clawing at her insides, making her want to rip her nails into Lavender.

She almost did. She had no notion of the crowded common room, no thought to the repercussion that would surely follow an unprovoked physical attack. It was Crookshanks that saved her, winding himself about her legs. She looked down in rage at the feline, but it helped her to realise where she was. Shaking, as if in a dream, she crossed the common room and clambered through the portrait hole. She was sweating, but she felt is cold at the same time, cold enough to make each of her muscles shudder with tremors. She pulled herself into an empty classroom. Her breath was tearing holes in her lungs as she gulped mightily, trying to force down the lump in her throat that threatened to engulf her. She held out her trembling wand arm, and whispered “Oppugno,� trying to convince herself that she hadn’t seen him; she had just slipped away here to practice a little Charms before bed. She couldn’t even trick herself.

She heard a noise in the corridor outside, and redoubled her efforts to maintain a calm exterior. A boy poked his head round the classroom door. It was Harry.

“Oh, hello, Harry,� she said, as smoothly as she could. Even to her, it sounded like it would crack at any moment.

“Yeah… they’re – er – really good… “Harry muttered awkwardly. Hermione wished he would just leave. He must know, and he must pity her. She couldn’t stand that.

“Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations,� she remarked. Saying it aloud seemed to make it worse, somehow.

“Er… Does he?� Harry asked. Of course, she thought bitterly, of course he would pretend everything was fine, defend Ron…

“Don’t pretend you didn’t see them! He wasn’t exactly hiding it, was –“

The door opened, and it was him, pulling her by the hand, laughing, gleeful, the perfect couple. She stiffened, chest heaving but otherwise outwardly calm.

“Oh,� he said, stopping abruptly as he saw Harry and Hermione.

Lavender giggled that disgusting, girlish laugh of hers, and slid away, leaving the three of them in silence. Hermione watched Ron, trying to work out if he had done this purposefully to hurt her, or whether he was just as insensitive and thoughtless as everyone seemed to think. Conversely, he refused to look at her, and said in a false-bright voice, “Hi Harry! Wondered where you’d got to!�

Hermione suddenly felt superior to this stupid boy, who couldn’t even face her. She slid off the desk, and turned to him, saying in a slow, even voice “You shouldn’t leave Lavender waiting outside. She’ll wonder where you’ve gone.� And she paced to the door, slowly, resolutely, upright and calm. She was serene. But inside her, a maelstrom of feelings were brewing, and she couldn’t control them. Before she knew it, her wand flicked, and her mouth shouted words she hadn’t even processed. Her charmed birds flew at Ron, but she didn’t stay to watch. The madness of the storm within her had exploded, and she felt completely out of control as she slammed the door, sprinting down the corridor to be alone.