"The Bet Made in Heaven" by Quidditch, Anyone?

(Chapter That Seems Like A Lot Of Thought Was Put Into It, But Not Really)

Hermione ran wildly down the corridors, her bag swinging and banging against walls as she skidded the tight corners. Her hair repeatedly fell in her face and she was breathing harder than she ever had. Finally huge oak doors came closer and closer until she let herself fall into them, then found that at the last minute she had slammed directly into Draco. A harsh comment from him was simply followed by a, "Bugger off, Malfoy!" as she continued to run. This was way more important than properly insulting Malfoy right now.

"Ron! Rooon!" she gasped. "I-I-I haff-have to tell you something."

Hermione couldn't help put lay her head on the table and breathe for a minute. She could feel Ron looking at her but didn't look to see his horrified expression. Like a starved old man, she weakly grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him closer. "This is so important!"

Ron twisted his way free and backed away. "No," he whispered worriedly. She didn't take much notice.

"I... you... I want to tell you..." It was hopeless. She could barely mime an explanation with the amount of energy left in her.

"Hermione, I already know," Ron told her bluntly.

"You-you do?" she panted.

"Yes." He loudly dropped his fork and knife and made a movement as if he would leave. "And I would just like to tell you, I don't know why you thought so, but I absolutely do not like you." If her face was red from exhaustion, it didn't compare to his.

She still breathed and tried to take this in. "You... wait, WHAT?"

"Fred just told me everything. How you like me, how you told him because you thought I liked you back, and how even he thinks I've been... I've been," he gulped. "Flirting with you all these years!"

"No... no, Ron, you don't understand!"

"I think I understand a lot more than you do," he scolded while heavily standing up from the table. "Hermione," he looked her sympathetically in the eye. "I like you, a lot, but just... not like that. I'm- I'm sorry." He turned away, his face screaming "guilt!" at the top of its lungs.

"Ron, you don't understand!" Hermione screamed. He didn't turn.

"Oh, bloody... geezum... God, almighty!" Finally she just pulled her hair to her mouth and screamed into her locks. It surprisingly deafened the hair-raising noise. Bloody oaf, Fred! Why couldn't she know all the secret passages, too? He must have gotten there in half the time it took her, then fed Ron some absurd story, trying to wrap this whole thing up and just win the damned bet. If his ugly redhaired face had still been in this room, Hermione would have beaten the life out of him, then gone to work with her clever curses.

"Is everything all right, Hermione?" she heard Neville question. Her slightly teary face looked up. "I'm fine, Neville, thank you."

He sat down in Ron's spot and grabbed a roll from the basket. "Then why have you been crying?"

Curse Neville. Curse everyone, in fact. Why can't she just sit here for a minute and not be asked a million questions? Why are all her friends so... urgh, friendly?

"I'm fine, Neville, and even if I wasn't, it really wouldn't be any of your business," she exploded. Poor Neville froze in mid-bite and watched her leave the Great Hall.

"Goodness, does she ever need some counseling!" Neville whispered.

"Who needs what, Neville?" Harry asked. He absentmindedly sat while rubbing his old glasses with a handful of robes. Clearly, he had been too preoccupied with something to take notice of a thing that had just happened.

"Hermione," Neville turned to him. "She's acting a bit... touchy, I think."

"Really?" Harry asked as he replaced his glasses. "How so?"

"Just... I don't know," he shrugged vaguely in response. Harry turned slightly red, which he didn't do very often.

"But if I had to guess, I'd say it had something to do with Ron."

Harry blushed slightly more and added, without looking at Neville of course, "You saw them fighting?"

"Well, not exactly... but I did remember seeing him leave, then all of a sudden her face was in her arms."

"Well, er... that's odd," Harry finished. The two boys started munching in silence for a bit before Neville (being the slow boy he is) noticed Harry's glasses.

When they were brought up, Harry just said, "I don't know... just want a change, I suppose."

"Well, good," said Neville. "Nothing personal, but you just weren't you without them."

Harry mixed his mashed potatoes with peas. The thing was, for a while now, Harry had sensed something odd going on at Hogwarts. No, not a Death Eater, and not a hidden chamber complete with a giant serpant... nope, this was still different. Different in that the solid rock of friendship among his best friends seemed to get a bit fuzzy. Not that they didn't like each other, of course not, but it just seemed... he wasn't sure, just odd. That's why he had his glasses; he wanted to make every little thing at Hogwarts the same as it had always been, no matter how small it was.

But then again, maybe he was just imagining it. I mean, come one... it's not like someone was messing with his thoughts, or anyone else's, for that matter.

·~··~··~·

Harry made his way to the Common Room. He was quite anxious to see his friends and find out what was wrong. Maybe this all was part of something he didn't even know about. He tried not to broad on this, as it just made him more confused.

Without warning, a considerably strong arm (like that of a Beater) hooked him around his waist as a equally brawny hand covered his mouth. Harry was savagely pulled nearly off his feet while being dragged into an empty broom cupboard.

When Harry was finally released in the eerily dark closet, the first noise he hurt was the door being closed- and locked. He expected to find Malfoy or Goyle, or someone... worse, but instead found-

"George?"

George had his wand raised to Harry's face and looked grim.

"George, what in the name of Merlin do you think you're doing?" Harry whispered.

"Harry, I'm sorry, but we have business to deal with," George spoke to him.

Harry was sincerely confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Harry, I know your secret," George started. He had lowered his wand and was now pacing around Harry in a circle. He looked sly and business-like... very unGeorge.

Harry gave him a look. "I have secrets? Like what?"

"About Hermione."

He shook his head, expecting more. "And? What secrets about Hermione?"

George's lip curled into an almost menacing smile. "We all know you want to snog her."

"What?"

"Oh, Harry, come on. It's so obvious! We just know you've been a little shy..." George continued fatherly.

"But I-"

"So I've decided to do you a favor." He cleared his throat. "Next Hogsmeade visit, Fred'nI 'll ask her for you, so you don't have to worry about a thing, okay?"

"You just-"

"Good." George gave a very sickening smile and patted Harry on the cheek. Too lost for words and torn between laughter and screaming, Harry stayed in that broom cupboard with his arms up in a half-shrug, mouth gaping, for quite a bit.

Be warned! This chapter can be very misleading! Or not! Hehe, guess you'll just have to wait and see. And I promise to update this soon. I have been neglecting this fic forever... like, literally... mostly because I had written myself into a corner with no good way out. But anyway, I hope y'all like it okay. And don't kill me yet- it's not done! There's yet more and more twists to come! And dancing! And music videos! And banana cotton candy! Just kidding... that would be kinda gross. I mean, who likes to dance?