The Inevitable Fight

Chapter Ten

Fred was late, but Hermione was not bothered. In fact, he was more than fifteen minutes late, which should have been a sure sign this was all for a laugh, a stunt to get her wand wound in a hilariously tight knot. Hell, Fred was probably up in the Commons room at this very moment telling the rousing story to the entire House, leading then in a good laugh at her expense. But, as she drew the bottle to her lips and sipped at the light turquoise liquid, Hermione just could not conjure the anger to care.

Although, if he was not showing up, it was a perfectly good waste of the Hellebore she had used the brew the Draught of Peace. If she was angry about anything, it was the fact that her brilliant scheme to outfox Fred at his own game would not come to brilliant fruition. More than anything, she wanted to be able to climb up on his Cleansweep, and endure the tumultuous ride she was sure he had planned with a smile on her face, so that she could waltz into the Gryffindor dorm bragging about her fantastic ride as Fred sulked in behind her.

In her disappointment, she reached for the bottle and sipped again. A euphoric sensation washed over her, leaving her feeling a stone lighter, and her eyes fluttering a bit.

The real disappointment came from from the fact that for once she might not be seen as the enemy of fun that most people imagined her to be. She loved to have fun, sought it out in fact. There were just so many more important things she felt she had to concentrate on. Maybe, if she managed to enjoy a ride on Fred's broom , she might be able to cast off this boring, goody-goody persona she had been pegged with from the first day on the Hogwarts train. She might be a stickler for the rules, but what Muggle-born wouldn't be in her place? Pure-bloods did not have to walk to same line to be accepted that she did, and even half-bloods were never held to same standards she had been. From the moment she had stepped into Hogwarts hallowed halls, she dreaded making a misstep, that she was being judged differently, and that they were just waiting for the mud-blood to mess up. She had to prove she belonged here, which meant that rules needed to be followed, and sadly, fun had to wait until her homework was finished.

The rim of the bottle found its way to her lips again, and as she exhaled, so went another stone, another worry, another negative thought.

Negative thoughts like she needed to be more careful. Draughts of Peace were dangerous if used in correctly. The reminder needled her in the back of her pragmatic, responsible mind, but the contented relief that washed over her with each sip pushed it further back, telling her she worried too much. Have another sip dear, it'll all go away.

When Fred's hand landed on her shoulder, she didn't even flinch.

"Sorry I was late," he shrugged. "Nicking my broom proved harder than I first conceived. But, nothing is impossible with a little Weasley ingenuity."

"Were you late? Oh... I hadn't really noticed."

Examining her with squinted eyes, Fred asked, "Are you alright, Hermione? You seem a bit... I dunno, just... off."

"I'm fine, Freddie!" She jumped up from her spot on the opposite side of the lake where she had promised to meet Fred, far from Umbridge's or her goonies prying, watchful eyes.

"You're much more excited about this than I expected," his expression was still painted with disbelief, "I mean, for an acrophobic."

"When did you learn the word for 'fear of heights'?" she asked, flashing him a puzzled smirk.

"When it became important," was his only response. "Well, climb aboard before you come to your senses."

Tossing his broom out, Fred mounted quickly and confidently, as if it were second nature. Hermione envied him for that, and went to reach for her last sip of Peace Draught, but Fred turned back suddenly reaching to her hand.