The Hollow Beneath Hogwarts

29. Trouble

Hermione Granger was furious. Not mildly irritated. Not annoyed.

Furious.

The kind of furious that made portraits stop talking as she stormed past them through the castle corridors. The kind that made younger students flatten themselves against the walls to avoid being trampled. The kind that even made Peeves wisely decide not to throw anything at her.

And the worst part?

She was painfully aware that Ron would probably call her emotional right now.

That thought alone only made her angrier.

She marched through Hogwarts at terrifying speed, her robes billowing behind her while her eyes scanned every corridor, classroom, and staircase for a certain tall ginger idiot. Her mind replayed the conversation over and over again.

You're girls.
You're emotional.
You'd fall for Malfoy because he's attractive.

Honestly, she still couldn't decide which part offended her the most. Behind her, Harry was practically jogging to keep up. "Hermione!" he called desperately. She ignored him completely.

She checked the Gryffindor Common Room first.
No Ron.

Then the dormitory.
Empty.

The Great Hall.
Nothing.

The Astronomy Tower.
The Courtyard.
The Clock Tower.
Still nothing.

By the time she reached the Entrance Hall, Hermione was vibrating with rage.

Then suddenly—

The Quidditch pitch. Of course.

The second the thought hit her, it became painfully obvious. Ron always went there when he was upset. Ever since first year. It was one of the few places he genuinely relaxed.

Hermione nearly kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. Without another word, she broke into a run.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted again as he hurried after her. "For Merlin's sake—"

"Harry," Hermione snapped over her shoulder without slowing down, "if you can't keep up then grab a bloody broom!"

Harry winced. Yep. She was really angry. And honestly? Harry understood why. It wasn't just the sexist comments. It wasn't even entirely about Draco. It was everything building together over weeks.

Ron had barely been alone with Hermione since returning to Hogwarts. He still spoke to her in groups, still joked occasionally, still acted mostly normal around Harry—

But alone?

He avoided her constantly. Like he was afraid of her. Or maybe afraid of himself around her. And Hermione had finally reached breaking point.

Harry had absolutely no intention of getting involved in whatever this argument became. He was simply there to ensure Ron survived it. Preferably without Hermione using any Unforgivable Curses.

The cold September air hit them sharply as they rushed outside. Rain clouds still hung heavy overhead while wind swept across the Hogwarts lawns.

Hermione marched straight toward the Quidditch stadium.

And there—

In the middle of the field—

Was Ron. Pacing.

His bright red hair practically glowed against the green pitch as he muttered angrily to himself, too busy replaying his argument with Sloane to notice Hermione approaching.