27: Crouch's Appearance

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YOU ARE A WICKED GIRL. HARRY POTTER DESERVES BETTER. GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM MUGGLE.

"Well... can't say I didn't see this coming." said Y/N matter-of-factly, as Hermione read over the hate-mail she had just been sent.

The four of them were enjoying a excellent breakfast of bacon, eggs and kippers, and Hermione had just been informing then that she had taken a subscription to the Daily Prophet when almost eight owls of different varieties landed beside her plate. All of these letters from Harry's fans, and they weren't happy with Hermione at all.

Word had spread fast around Hogwarts that Y/N L/N and Hermione Granger were now an item, and while this was not big news to few sensible students who had always believed that this was the case between the two bookworms of Gryffindor anyway, the majority, who were stupid enough to believe Rita's article, were under the assumption that Hermione had cheated on Harry while he was in a coma.

Luckily, only a select few of these fools were stupid enough to actually voice their ridiculous comments about it, because none of them wanted to anger the boy-who-had killed-many-beasts.

But if Harry's fanclub was angry, it was nothing compared to Fleur's.

Fleur herself had actually taken the news quite well. She told both Y/N and Hermione that she never had true feelings for him, and was thrown off by the fact that he could resist her Veela charms so well and was drawn to him like a fish as she tried to get him to notice her. Saving her sister Gabrielle made Fleur see Y/N less like a trophy and more like a human being. A human being who she insisted she owed everything.

"My leetle sister won't be very 'appy, 'owever," Fleur had told them with a sly grin. "She won't stop sending letters going on about Y/N L/N who saved 'er life."

Unbeknownst to this, Fleur's Hogwarts fans (mostly boys) and Beauxbatons friends had, like many others, misunderstood Fleur's infatuation with Y/N to be true feelings for him, and were all treating both Y/N and Hermione with cold indifference.

"They're all like it!" said Hermione desperately, opening one hate-letter after another. "'Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you...' 'You deserve to be boiled in frog-spawn...' Ouch!"

She had opened the last envelope, and yellowish-green liquid smelling strongly of petrol gushed over her hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils.

"Undiluted bubotuber pus!" said Ron, picking up the envelope gingerly and sniffing it.

"Ow!" said Hermione, tears starting in her eyes as she tried to rub the pus off her hands with a napkin, but her fingers were now so thickly covered in painful sores that it looked as though she were wearing a pair of thick, knobbly gloves.

"You'd better get up to the hospital wing," said Harry as the owls around Hermione took flight. "We'll tell Professor Sprout where you've gone..."

"I'll go with you," Y/N offered, and they both hurried out of the Great Hall.

"I freaking hate that stupid reporter." Y/N said, looking at Hermione's messed up hands, as he lead her into the hospital wing. "I swear I'll get her one of these days."

"We already know that she's an Animagus," Hermione said miserably, wincing through the pain. "Our next step should be figuring out whether she's registered or not. Maybe we can get some dirt on her."

When Madam Pomfrey set eyes on Hermione's hands, she drew quite panicked, and immediately instructed Hermione to sit down on a bed while she put some magical ointment on it and bandage her hands.

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