On Saturday morning, just about every student third year and above hurried off to breakfast as if it would make the time go quicker. The students couldn’t wait to be able to leave school grounds for a couple hours, but Hermione walked slowly behind everyone else.
“Do you think we should ask her to come along with us?” Ginny asked Harry. “She looks terribly miserable.”
“I do feel bad about leaving her behind,” Harry said, “but there’ll be other trips.” Ginny gave him her ‘I’m-the-girl-and-I-know-best’ face. “Oh, all right. We’ll ask her at breakfast.”
The two then hurried to breakfast like everyone else. The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement. Harry and Ginny sat down at the Gryffindor table and saw Ron catch up to them.
“Detention, on the first Hogsmeade Saturday of the year,” Ron said angrily. “Even McGonagall would let me off just for the Saturday!” He looked around. “Where’s Hermione?”
“We saw her in the corridor, just awhile ago,” Ginny answered. “She doesn’t look too happy.”
Ron had forgotten that Hermione would have no company to Hogsmeade with Harry and Ginny prancing around in daisy fields and whatnot. Oh how he wished he hadn’t gotten a detention.
“Weasley!” Ron’s thoughts of Hogsmeade left his mind only to be replaced again by Snape’s cold, emotionless voice. “Detention, my room, eleven o’clock. You won’t be needing a wand.” He turned on his heel and headed back to the teacher’s table.
“Ugh,” Ron said disgustedly, “I guess I’ll be back to those bedpans.”
As they began to eat, Hermione entered the Great Hall and sat down next Harry. “Hi, Hermione.”
“Good morning,” said Hermione, though it didn’t sound like she was having one. Harry helped himself to some of the food that surrounded them, but dropped his fork when Ginny kicked his leg. He looked over and saw Ginny giving him her signature look again.
“Hey, I know that today was supposed to be a day for just Ginny and me, but we’d like you to come with us to Hogsmeade,” Harry said sympathetically.
“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to ruin your day,” Hermione said hastily. “I have some homework to catch up on anyways. I’ve been falling behind.”
Harry choked on his scrambled eggs. “You’re falling behind on your homework?”
Harry had just asked the same question Ron was thinking of. How could Hermione be falling behind on her homework? She was usually weeks ahead of the class.
“Yeah, I’ve been,” Hermione thought for a second and sighed, “busy.”
“Hermione Granger, what have been up to?” Ginny said playfully.
“Oh, there’s just been so much homework. We’ve got N.E.W.T.s this year and I’ve got double the homework I had last year in Runes.”
Ron looked around and saw some of the students already leaving their tables and heading for the Entrance Hall. He longed to be able to leave the castle for a couple hours, and he also longed just to be with Hermione, even if they were studying. Instead he had detention. With Snape.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” he heard Ginny ask.
“No, you two go and have a good time.”
“All right, come on, Harry.” Ginny pulled him from the table and they headed towards the crowd of people.
Ron watched them leave and looked at Hermione as she poked at her food. She was barely eating. “Is something worrying you?”
“No,” Hermione said, “I’m just thinking.”
“Well, if nothing’s bothering you, I do have a couple hours before detention with Snape.“ Ron was searching his bag. “I’ve been trying hard to do the work myself but could you look at my Charms essay?” Ron looked up to see that Hermione had left the Great Hall.
Hermione had to get away. She couldn’t be around Ron anymore. She couldn’t stand looking at him. She had convinced herself that she was not in love and that she was just being obsessed, but her mind still wandered. He lingered in her thoughts when she was awake and haunted her dreams when she was asleep. She was so sure that he was going to invite her to spend the day at Hogsmeade with him, as more than just friends. Why in the name of Merlin would he do that? He and Lavender were having such a wonderful time in class. He would never like me. I’m just his friend, his book-loving, frizzy haired friend. But she wanted to be more than that.
Hermione found herself a table in the library and spread out all her books and notes. She still had so much to do. Every night for the past few weeks, she would separate herself from everybody else in the common room and come to the library in a secluded corner where she would not be distracted, only to get sidetracked by her thoughts.
She looked at all her instruments of learning and closed her eyes. She couldn’t handle all the pressure, not anymore. The stress was getting to her. The more she thought about him, the more she got distracted. And the more she got distracted, the more homework she put off doing. And the more homework she put off, the more she found her mind drifting and in no time, she was back in the place where she spent her study nights…
She was walking through Hogsmeade alone. The air was cold, but very refreshing. Suddenly, it got colder and the wind picked up. She wasn’t wearing a cloak and it started to snow. It got warmer, but she could still see trees being moved by the wind and snow still clung to her hair. She turned around to find Ron, taking off his own cloak, offering it to her. She gladly accepted and he held her tightly, his body shielding her from the wind. She loved everything about that moment and, as if it were real, she could smell his familiar scent.
“I love you,” she whispered in his ear, but her words seemed to have been carried away by the wind. Then, everything faded into darkness and it got cold again. She could hear voices, laughter. She followed the sounds, walking around in the darkness, and found Ron enclosed in a tight embrace with Lavender Brown.
Ron’s voice echoed. “I love you, Lavender.” There lips were moving closer together, barely touching, when Hermione woke up, her eyes filled with tears.
She then decided that it was enough torture. She had to tell someone. Instinctively, she picked up her quill and scratched onto a new piece of parchment, Dear Viktor. For the three years of life she had known him, he had been her confidant. With teardrops occasionally splashing the parchment, she poured her heart out into her letter. I’ve been holding this secret for too long… I cannot help myself… He is in my head even when I don’t think about him… I love his eyes, his smile, his… Even if there was nothing to love him for I still would… But there was this one-day in class… They were laughing… She was looking right at me…
When she finished, it was forty-five minutes after she had started and she had two pages worth of writing. Hermione sealed the envelope and put the letter in-between the pages of her book. She told herself not to go to the Owlery to send it until she had finished two of her essays. She was glad to be able to focus, now that her thoughts were clear.
Ron had just finished his detention with Snape. It was an aggravating four hours of cleaning just about every nook and cranny in his classroom and office, without magic. How could a man with such bad personal hygiene, be so clean? Ron couldn’t get the picture of all the dead spiders that just lay in the corners out of his head.
He decided to go back to the common room and just relax. It had been a long time since he had done that, with Quidditch practice almost every evening and mustering all his ambition to actually do his homework to try to impress Hermione. Once he got through the portrait hole, he slumped into a red armchair. He stared at the fireplace and sighed. He was trying so hard to win Hermione’s heart, but was unsuccessful, time and time again. Could it be that she thinks of me as no more than a friend?
Ron thought a little more and he had determined his action. Today was the day. He rehearsed in his mind about a million times. Hermione, I love you. Hermione I love you. He walked around the deserted hallways, abusing his prefect privileges, muttering the words under his breath. He heard footsteps and, afraid of being caught by a teacher, hid behind the wall. But it wasn’t, it was Hermione. Taking a deep breath, he started to walk towards her.
“Oh, hi, Ron,” Hermione said, looking at the floor.
“Hermione, it’s, er, funny running into your like this. I was thinking”thinking about you.”
Hermione’s books dropped. She seemed dazed. “Sorry,” she said hastily, kneeling to pick up her things.
“No, I’ll get that,” Ron said as he bent down to help her. He grasped for an envelope just as Hermione was and his hand brushed hers. Ron was sure he felt a shock, but she pulled her hand and the envelope away quickly. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” He took a breath. “Hermione, I”“ He caught a glimpse of the name scratched on the letter.
“Viktor?” Ron said, raising his voice slightly. “You’ve been writing to Krum? You’d rather talk to some bloke, hundreds of miles away, than me, who has always been by your side since first year?”
“There are things that I can tell him that I can’t tell you,” Hermione said, turning red, relieved that her letter had already been sealed.
“You expect me to believe he’s just a friend, then?” Ron said jealously.
“R-Ron, you d-don’t understand,” she said shakily. Hermione was nearly brought to tears.
“I can only guess what you two write about.” Ron exaggeratedly imitated Viktor’s Bulgarian accent. “Oh Herm-own-ninny, you are the most vonderful girl I haff ever met. Please, vill you come vis--”
“Well, if that’s what you think, then I’d rather not talk to you at all!” Hermione briskly walked towards Gryffindor Tower. Ron turned and watched her leave, wanting so much to call out her name and apologize but not having the heart to do so.
Hermione ran up the moving staircases and threw herself into the portrait hole. She didn’t care about the people that stared as she tore through the common room and slammed the door to her dormitory. It was empty, to her relief. She ripped open the letter, disgusted that she ever wrote it and tore up its contents. She threw its remains in the trash bin and curled up in her bed, tears streaming down her face, remembering every word she regretted writing in that letter. But there was one sentence that kept repeating itself in her mind. Even if there was nothing to love him for, I still would.