IN THE DAYS that followed, Hermione Granger remained upset with her two best friends. Typically, she was the one to keep the peace between the boys, but she was tired of it. She was tired of continuously being there for everyone, and being let down in the end — every single time. She wanted to think of herself: to do her own thing, but as she'd never done that before, she found herself missing them. She huffed a breath; all of the nine circles of Hell would have to freeze over before she would be the one to cave and apologize.

She spent more time in the library than ever before, studying extra hard to keep her mind off the boys and the impending second task of the Triwizard Tournament. She knew Harry hadn't figured out the golden egg he'd received from the first task, and the riddle-loving part of her wanted desperately to get her hands on it and crack the code, but she would not let herself. As Hermione threw her head into her hands, dark brown bushy curls falling in front of her almond eyes, she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. She kept her head down, signaling how much she did not want to talk to whoever was there.

"Still angry with Potter and the Weasel then?" It was a lilting voice, and the Muggle-Born glanced up to see Pansy Parkinson smirking down at her. She pursed her lip, frowning and crossing her arms stubbornly. Pansy's smirk only widened. "What? Too proud to talk to a Slytherin like me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I just don't see why you're getting involved in my business, Parkinson. It's never seemed to bother you this much before, and we've been classmates for four years now."

"I'm a nosy person, what can I say?" The black-haired girl shrugged, taking a seat opposite Hermione and cradling her face in her pale hand. Her dark eyes observed the Gryffindor with interest. She squirmed under her gaze.

"Don't you have some mean girl-esque things to be doing with Bulstrode and Greengrass? Or maybe even canoodling with Malfoy?" She asked, brown eyes piercing into the short-haired girl.

"I do, but I think I'd much rather hang out with you here. It's so," Pansy paused, glancing around the library. They were seated near a window which overlooked the snowy grounds of Hogwarts. Classes were due to start in a little under a week now, and students were taking as much lounging time as they could manage before the pressure started up again. "Peaceful."

Hermione scoffed. "It's a library, and no offense Parkinson, but you and I aren't friends, and you're disrupting the only place I have to myself nowadays. So, please-"

Pansy's dark eyes shimmered. Her full lips turned upwards in an emotionless smile and she stood slowly, pushing in the chair behind her. She turned back to face the Gryffindor one last time: "You'll come to find that, friends or not friends, I am not going to leave you alone. You see, you're something of an enigma to me, Granger, and I am determined to figure you out."

The click click click of heels faded as Pansy Parkinson left the library, and Hermione exhaled in aggravation. Madam Pince made a shushing sound in her direction, causing the bushy-haired girl to wince. She stood quickly, gathering her school books and rushing from the library. It was pointless to stay there: it wasn't like she was doing any real studying anyways.

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The Gryffindor Common Room was bustling with life as Hermione Granger crawled through the Fat Lady's portrait hole. The fire was roaring against the January chill, and students were sat around on the plush couches trying out their Christmas gifts or mingling. In one corner, her brown eyes met the striking green of Harry Potter's, and for a moment it looked as though he were going to stand and talk to her, but then Ron Weasley, who hadn't followed Harry's gaze, said something to make him direct his attention away.

Seamus Finnigan was showing off his new Gobstones set he'd gotten from his mother for Christmas. Dean Thomas, the Irish lad's best friend was challenging him to a game of it. Neville Longbottom was seated off to the side, a large tome filled with information in Herbology no doubt spread over his thick legs. Ginny Weasley was chatting with a few girls in her year, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were squeezed together on a plush couch, giggling over an issue of Witch Weekly. Seeing as the girls were the least questioning of everyone else, Hermione made her way over to them.

"Hello girls." She greeted them, approaching their chair and taking a seat on the coffee table in front of them, discarding her school bag. Lavender glanced at her apprehensively, though Parvati gave her a kind smile.

"Hermione! How're studies coming?" The black-haired girl asked, biting her lip as if trying to think of things the girls could possibly talk about. Over the years they'd been dorm mates, she'd established how much she did not want to talk about boys or fashion.

"They're fine," Hermione stated, noticing her discomfort. Against better judgment, her brown eyes fell upon the magazine in Lavender's hands. "Any good gossip in that thing?"

The blonde's blue eyes sparkled then, and she hurriedly flipped open to a page with a scandalous moving image of some celebrity wizard Hermione didn't know. Lavender chattered excitably about the man and his 'bulging biceps' and 'perfect pectorals.' By the time she'd shut up, most of the common room had left for dinner. Noticing the empty room, Hermione stood to her feet quickly and muttered some rubbish about being hungry; in reality, she just wanted to get away from them.

"I knew we shouldn't have opened the magazine, Lavender!" Parvati snapped at her friend in a whispered voice as the brown-haired girl closed the portrait hole.

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The enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall reflected the snowy darkness outside the castle. Hundreds of candles floated in the vast space, illuminating the five tables set up in the large room, and the golden plates in which meal after meal sat being eaten by ravenous students and teachers alike. Pansy Parkinson sat between Millicent Bulstrode and Daphne Greengrass, pushing at the peas on her plate with disinterest. Across from her, Draco Malfoy was talking animatedly to Theodore Nott about something his father was doing.

"Aren't you hungry, Pansy?" Blaise Zabini asked, the true godsend in this horribly boring place of communion.

She shrugged her shoulders, setting her fork down on her plate with a huff. None of the meal looked appetizing anymore. Her eyes met Blaise's: dark and full of concern. "Honestly, not at all."

He frowned. "Something up?"

Pansy's eyes flickered across the Great Hall; Hermione Granger, her latest conquest was seated beside the youngest Weasley, face cradled in her hand as she also pushed food around her plate. The dark-eyed girl noticed the Gryffindor continuously glancing down the table at a raven-haired boy and ginger who ate as if raised in barns. Why won't she just talk to them? She thought. Why is this bothering me so much?

"Just not hungry." She decided. Zabini didn't need to know about the wandering thoughts that had plagued her mind since the night of the Yule Ball. She hadn't slept at all that night; she'd never seen someone look so... broken, so defeated. And Pansy would know. She caused a lot of grief to people, but never had something looked so severe. Then again, she'd also never had her heart broken.

Thankfully, Blaise didn't push the subject any longer. He eventually involved himself in Malfoy and Nott's conversations, and Daphne and Millicent had taken to gossiping as if she wasn't even there: not that she really minded anymore. She'd never been so thankful for a meal to end, and found herself pushing through the crowds of swarming students in order to reach her common room first. She faced the magical wall that led to Slytherin, muttered the password, and slipped inside and to her dormitory before the passage could even close again.

Chatter filled the common room down the hall, Draco Malfoy's prideful voice carrying as he tried to draw the attention of everyone with his aristocracy. Pansy did her best to ignore it, and instead gazed out the magical windows, watching the dark rippling waters of the Black Lake outside of it. A school of fish swam passed, their silvery scales a contrast to the darkness of her room.

Never had she been so deeply uprooted by a person before: let alone a Gryffindor. She sat down at her vanity and gazed at her reflection in the mirror: her dark eyes appeared deeper, her skin paler. Her short bob was messy from running her fingers through it all day, and her clothes seemed ruffled. She threw off her heels and padded barefoot across the stone floor to her bed, sinking down into the comfortable duvet and deciding that maybe getting some sleep would fill this unease that had settled into her stomach. However, her dreams unsettled her further:

She was in the Great Hall again, though it was decorated fantastically with Christmasy things as the Yule Ball took place. Couples filed into the room with an excited chatter in the air, and Pansy clung to Malfoy's arm as the Triwizard Champions were introduced. Durmstrang's champion Viktor Krum walked in with a beautiful girl in a periwinkle-blue dress and brown hair slick and tied in an elegant knot, and Pansy's eyes bulged.

"That's Hermione Granger!" Someone whispered near her, and she refused to believe it, but it was true. The Gryffindor girl looked enchanting, like a princess! No, a fierce lioness on the prowl and ready to conquer. She looked powerful. Even Malfoy had no snipe to make about the Muggle-Born.

Pansy's eyes remained on her the entire night, disbelieving of her absolute beauty. She was prettier than any Veela, radiating more energy than even Merlin could muster. The brown-haired girl danced and laughed and smiled, brown eyes twinkling with each spin. And then, suddenly the Slytherin princess was the one twirling her around and around, and sweet laughter rang in her ears as Hermione's mouth opened to reveal perfect teeth; this was not the smile the fourteen-year-old had known the girl to have. The music subsided, and the girls moved closer together until slowly, their lips were a breath away from touching.

Pansy awoke with a start, heart racing in her chest as sweaty hands clung to her duvet.

"What in Salazar's name am I doing?" She breathed.