A Weasley Twin

7.

I was up at 5am the next morning, heading straight down to the library. I hadn't left my room after the events of the night before. I don't know why I said what I said and I definitely didn't want to talk about it, so getting up early was the only way to avoid the inevitable conversation.

I spent a few hours rereading Ayn Rand's 'The Fountainhead'. Sometimes muggle books just felt more comfortable for me, more familiar than those of the wizarding world, and familiarity was exactly what I needed. No magic, no fuckboys, just classic literature.

I was drawn away from my novel as Ron came in with his Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook in hand. 

"I know I told you I'd help with your homework but I just have so much on my mind at the moment."

Ron beamed at me, oddly uncharacteristic for him so early in the morning. "I got the sense yesterday when you snapped at Fred and I guess it just motivated me and I did it!" 

"You did it?" I questioned.

"I did my homework! Well, nearly. There's a few more things I need to do but that's why I came to the library. And to see you, of course." He pulled up a chair next to me and laid his book heavily on the desk. "Sorry, you're reading." He looked almost guilty for interrupting. 

"No, no. It's okay, I'm glad you've developed a work ethic after 5 years of my influence," I teased.

We spent an extra half an hour in comfortable silence as he finished his work and I continued reading. He would occasionally speak, not exactly to me, just an inner monologue that would occasionally make it out verbally. 

We met Harry as we entered the Great Hall for breakfast, I was starving having been up for hours already. As Harry reached for the toast, I noticed some unpleasant marks on his hand. 

"Harry, what's on your hand?" I asked, concerned.

He rolled his eyes, pulling his sleeves over his hands. "You'll have to ask Umbridge about that."

"Umbridge? That's what she's doing in detention? That's barbaric, you're a child. How is the ministry okay with this? They can't know, if they did they'd do something. Why haven't they done anything?"

"Just leave it, Hermione. I don't want to talk about it and you can bloody well take it up with her if you want to ask questions," Harry said, snapping at me. "Just... don't report it. It's not your place." He got up and left the Great Hall.

"I don't understand him sometimes," Ron sighed.

"No," I agreed, standing to leave, "neither do I."

Upon leaving, I saw Fred coming down the stairs, the very person I had gone so out of my way to avoid. I immediately turned around, deciding to take a detour to the common room. I heard him say my name but made the conscious decision not to hear it. 

He took my hand, forcing me to stop. 

"Don't touch me," I said sternly.

"Hermione, come on, don't you-"

"No, Fred. I don't want to speak to you, I don't want to look at you and I definitely don't want to be touched by you," I interrupted.

He tried not to laugh as I instantly regretted saying that last part. I pulled my hand away and continued to walk in the opposite direction. I couldn't face feeling anything for him, I couldn't admit it to myself, I couldn't risk losing Ron because of it. 

"Hermione," I heard several more times before he accepted defeat and began walking back towards the Great Hall.

I stopped.

"I'm sorry," I called to him. "Meet me in the fourth floor corridor later."

He grinned in response before disappearing into the Great Hall.