(A/N: Okay, this whole story is fruitless/ well, probably, how should I know? I'm only writing it…who says I need to plan out my plot? Who says I even NEED a plot in the first place/ or probably will be, anyway, and it's totally random. If you can keep track of Hermione's thoughts…well, ckontowderdon!)

Idiot, Hermione thought fiercely, you should have accepted!

Carrying a large load of books (so what's new?) that was weighing her down considerably and walking toward Charms class, Hermione was thinking over what Ron had angrily said to her.

So what if he had "just realized that you are a girl," he was still asking you!

A furious battle was ensuing inside her mind.

But you know, he wasn't treating you like you want to be treated by a boy…

He's a man!

He's a boy. And he's your friend. Not a boyfriend, and since when has there ever been a word, "boyman?"

Silence.

You see? He was acting like you're just a friend…not even like you're a girl…

He didn't mean it like that, only that I was a friend and it's only this stupid ball that's brought up conflicts like this! Just drop it…

No thanks! He didn't even realize that you were a girl…

He just meant that I was a friend! He was…joking! Of course he doesn't think of me as a boy…

But if he did, would that mean you were a boyfriend?

Okay, now you're just being screwed!

Hermione shook herself mentally.

Hard.

Did you like that?

Okay, now it's time to stop living inside your mind.

Let's make a mental list of facts…

You are walking to Charms class.

You have a test tomorrow.

The exams are coming up in 2 ½ months.

ACK! SWERVE, you stupid idiot! Don't bump into people and make it look like you're talking to yourself! You're just…consulting with your mind! Yeah…

Ron just asked you out to the ball with him.

No he didn't, he was insulting you and joking.

No he wasn't, I just declined the offer because I'm a stupid idiot who bumps into people too much, carries crippling amounts of books, talks to herself, and is asked to balls all the time by Quidditch professionals.

Does that include Harry?

NO!

So much for the list idea…

Hermione sighed dramatically, avoiding and dodging the younger midgets (in Ron's words) and the older dweeby idiots (also in Ron's words) who would someday be themselves. Great.

The relentless crowd of people pushing and jostling their way through the corridor to their next class was enough to give someone a heart attack if they didn't drown thoroughly first. Honestly, it's like trying to swim up Niagara Falls...

Finally, however, Hermione arrived. Charms. Yippee.

Ron would be there.

RON.

Yippee.

Bursting in, Hermione opened her mouth to apologize to Professor Flitwick for being late. Then she noticed that they were practicing the Levitation Charm, Wingardium Leviosa. That couldn't be right—they learned that in their first year! Was this some review session?

Suddenly there was a giggle. Then the whole class was laughing. What?

Uh-oh. Smooth, Hermione…

Wrong class.

Hermione excused herself hastily and slammed the door behind her. First-years. HOW embarrassing. Wasn't she supposed to be Head Girl? Oh yeah…

Hermione slid down the wall and crouched down. Grabbing her schedule, she scanned the page for where she was SUPPOSED to be. Transfiguration. Great. With any luck, Professor McGonagall would either be in an a) good mood or b) pardon her because she passed that last test with flying colors, and then some.

Running over to her REAL class wasn't easy; with a pile of books that kept falling onto the ground and clumsy feet that were continuously tripping over themselves, Hermione figured mentally that she was about 15 minutes late.

Daydream

"Professor, I'm really sorry, it won't happen again! I just kind of forgot, and stumbled into the wrong class, and—"

"I don't want your excuses, Granger! A T for that last test would be appropriate, I think!"

Hermione was on her knees, pleading with McGonagall who was looking down at her as if the girl repulsed her. The whole class was watching Hermione, sneering and taunting her.

"No…please, Professor…I can…"

"What, EXPLAIN? You are one hour and thirty minutes late, Miss Granger I don't think that you can explain that, and I can't excuse that! AND I DON'T PLAN TO! Detention for the next 2 months, and a T for every single test taken so far this year! That should teach you to be late in MY CLASS….MY CLASS…MY CLASS…MY CLASS…"

My class…my class…my class…my class…

Then the world was spinning, and suddenly everything turned black.

MY CLASS…