Hermione stomped up the stairs to her dormitory, her face reddened by pure anger. He doesn't understand, she thought. He doesn't get it! She threw open the door and slammed it shut with her foot. No one else resided in the room so she didn't feel the least bit out-of-line. As she tore off her clothes and scrambled into her pyjamas, she kept thinking about what had just happened. She couldn't believe he was as daft as a cow; it was very unlikely for her to even think about doing what he accused her of.
Tearing the coverlet off as she climbed into bed, Hermione retraced her memory back to the incident that took place just a few moments ago...
On a rare quiet evening, three best friends, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger sat around at a table in the Gryffindor common room, studiously scribbling notes for classes between books stacked high above their heads. Harry leaned over closely to his parchment; his nose barely touching it, muttering incoherent words under his breath. Ron incessantly scratched his head with his tongue stuck out, unsure whether he had written the right answer. Hermione had just finished up her assignments, and took out a spare piece of parchment and began writing a letter to Viktor Krum.
Even though she was deep in thought about her letter, a light wind wafting in from the spring sky interrupted her thoughts. It blew the papers on the floor left from the fifth years after a long night of studying for their O.W.L. exams. The fire had been long dead, and only its ashes were left behind. She returned back to her letter and continued scribbling across the parchment, filling it up quickly. A bustle behind a pile of books forced her to look up.
"Hermione," Ron began, "what does it mean when—" but seeing whom she was writing to stopped him immediately. "You're still talking to him?"
"Well, of course, Ron," she confirmed. "Why wouldn't I?"
"No reason," he said calmly, looking down at the loose scrap he was playing with. "I just didn't think you'd still communicate with him after..."
Harry gazed up at Ron, not realising his mouth slightly hung open.
"After what, Ronald?" she asked with a slight tartness to it.
"After that rumour that went around?" he mumbled.
"You mean that he kissed me? Two years ago?"
Hermione now had all her interest upon Ron, who couldn't come near eye contact with her.
"Well...yea."
"Ron, I've talked him even after that. You heard this rumour, what, last year? And I've told you nothing happened. So why are you still bothered by it? Can't I have a pen pal?"
"I doubt he's just a pen pal," he muttered.
"Pardon me?" she asked sharply.
"I said I-I doubt he's just a pen pal!" he shouted a little louder than he had hoped.
Hermione could feel her face turning pink, just as pink as Ron's face had already been.
"You know there's nothing between Viktor and me. NOTHING! Why do you still get bothered by this every time I write him a letter?"
Ron opened his mouth to say something, but closed it right away. He glimpsed down at Harry hoping his best friend could help him out. Unfortunately, Harry just sat there eyeing both of them before returning back to his own work. Thanks, Ron thought sarcastically. He finally made eye contact with Hermione, who was staring at him intently.
"Well?" she asked.
Feeling a bit of angst rising in him from every time she would always 'well' him, he shouted, "Don't 'well' me! You think I'm thick? I know there's something going on between you two! It's obvious! Harry's even mentioned it!"
Hermione flashed Harry a massive glare, who kept his face down to his paper wishing Ron hadn't added him to this row. She looked back over at Ron and retorted, "Ugh! You say you're not thick, but you sure are an idiot!"
She grabbed her books, and hustled across the common room to the girls' dormitories, leaving the two staring at a slammed wooden door. Harry looked over at Ron, who was redder than his own hair.
"What?" Ron asked gruffly.
Harry just shook his head, and returned to his work. Ron sat back down, running his fingers through his hair, resting his head against his hand, and continued his work as well...
Hermione lied on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling of her four-poster bed. Time seemed to pass slowly, but when she looked at her watch on her bedside table, she noticed two hours had already passed, and she knew she had to get some sleep.
Trying to shut out her mind, she closed her eyes thinking if Ron were her for a day he'd realise what goes on in her life, and he'd know her feelings towards certain people; some certain people she hoped he wouldn't find out even if he was her. She turned on to her side and soon felt herself drift off to a deep sleep, unaware of what was to become of her.