Hermione adjusted Ron’s potions essay, a familiar frustration tightening her jaw. This was the fourth time she’d corrected it today. She’d rather be anywhere but supervising Head Girl duties. She entered a classroom, drawing her wand. “Nox,” she murmured, and the room plunged into darkness.
A shrill laugh echoed down the corridor. Pansy Parkinson. Hermione rolled her eyes. The girl seemed to materialize from nowhere whenever she passed. Hermione wished Parkinson would simply *disappear*.
“What are you doing here, Parkinson? It’s past curfew,” Hermione demanded, her grip tightening on her wand. She wasn’t about to hex the girl, not yet, but she’d defend herself if necessary. She groaned inwardly when Parkinson linked arms with Draco Malfoy. They’d been sneaking around all too often lately. Why wasn’t *her* boyfriend patrolling? She’d be less lenient if he weren’t, admittedly, rather kind.
“Well, well, isn’t it the filthy mudblood again?” Pansy sneered, Malfoy smirking beside her.
“It’s the fourth time this week. Get back to your dorm, you stupid snake!”
“Don’t speak to my girlfriend like that!” Draco snapped, stepping protectively in front of Pansy. “And besides, this is no place for a Gryffindor.”
“Malfoy, you really need to learn some respect.” Hermione’s voice was sharp.
Pansy cocked her head, her lips twisting into a deliberately ugly sneer. Hermione kept her mouth shut, unwilling to escalate. She didn’t want to risk trouble with Professor Bradford, Snape’s successor.
“Someone tongue-tied now?” Draco taunted. Just as Hermione considered reporting them, her boyfriend appeared, seemingly from nowhere.
“Hermione! Are you done – oh.” Ron’s voice was laced with concern.
“Perfect combination. The mudblood and Weasley.” Pansy’s voice dripped with venom.
“One more time, Malfoy and Parkinson, I’m reporting you to Professor McGonagall,” Hermione warned.
Ron jerked his thumb backward. “Now go back to your bloody dorm.”
Malfoy smirked, dragging Pansy by the hand. They strolled past Hermione and Ron, disappearing around a corner.
“What a day.” Hermione handed Ron his corrected essay. “Try to spell better next time.”
“Wow, thanks. But I doubt I’ll improve.” He took her hand, his touch warm and grounding. “Shall we head back?”
A blush warmed Hermione’s cheeks. “Okay, let’s go get some sleep.”
******
“Harry? Are you still there?” Hermione tapped on the bathroom door.
“Uh-huh. Quidditch today.”
“How are you feeling? Do you need me to – uh, help you with some things?”
Harry emerged, clad in his familiar Quidditch robes. Hermione noted, almost unconsciously, that they seemed to grow with him each year.
“Brilliant. I feel really relaxed these days. Last year was tiresome. But after defeating the dark lord, I couldn’t be more free now, could I?”
Hermione laughed. It was true. Harry seemed genuinely lighter, free to play Quidditch, practice magic, and sleep without Voldemort invading his mind.
“Alright, good luck. Ron and I will be watching you. I’ll go find him now, see you later, Harry!” She waved and headed towards the Great Hall.
Ron was cornering a group of first-years.
“So, eh, bloody books you’ll need for Potions. And try not to make Professor Bradford angry, or he’ll turn you into slugs or spiders!”
The first-years gasped, fear crossing their faces. “Ron! Stop scaring the first years! Professor Bradford won’t turn you into spiders or slugs, kids. The Head Boy is just messing with you.”
Ron gasped dramatically. “How could you lie to them, Hermione?” He cleared his throat. “Watch this.”
“Frogeto propeto!”
A small boy with black hair yelped and shrank into a tiny green frog, robes and textbooks included. “Now *that’s* what Professor Bradford does if you don’t mix ingredients right!” Hermione tried not to giggle. Her boyfriend was infuriating, but also endearing.
“You made that up?” Hermione asked, blinking at him.
“Uh, with a little help from Ginny and Harry.” He cleared his throat again, holding his wand high.
“Ron! For Merlin’s sake, can we go eat now? Harry’s playing Quidditch, with Ginny.”
He slapped his head. “Oh my god, Quidditch! Yeah, we better go!” He grabbed Hermione’s hand. “Hold on! You’ve got to turn that poor kid back!” Hermione glared at him.
Ron stared dumbfounded. “Actually, I didn’t bother making a reverse spell.”
“What?” Hermione’s voice was too loud.
“Harry said I didn’t need to. You’re the smartest witch since first year now, aren’t you?” Ron blurted, his cheeks flushed.
It was difficult to stay angry. “You know what? You go eat at the Great Hall first. Tell Harry I’m wishing him the best, even if I just said it a few minutes ago, because I’m taking this frog student to Professor McGonagall.”
Hermione scooped the frog into her hands. Ron grabbed her arm. “You sure you’re going to be okay? I didn’t really make you mad, did I?”
“You wouldn’t bother if I were.”
“Sorry, see you later.” He cupped her cheeks and kissed her. The frog croaked between them and glared at Ron. Hermione stood speechless, watching Ron’s robes sweep past. She smiled, her lips still tingling with joy. The frog croaked again, demanding her attention.
“Oh right. Sorry, Robert.” Hermione said to the frog, and hurried off, her heart soaring.