Just as quick as the bastard, Ronald Weasley had an outstanding performance in quidditch, he was off the mats and enveloped in the lips of another girl who Hermione’d never even seen before. And god did it hurt; she wanted to throw up, run away, and hide. And so she did, quickly making her escape down the corridors of Gryffindor halls.

Alone, Hermione sat, on the end of the old stone stairs, tears gliding off of her cheeks silently. With the sorrow, she took the time to cast spells, birds appearing at her wake, until she heard footsteps echoing down the chamber— you.

Hermione allowed you to come closer, as you did so cautiously, you noticed the disdain she kept on her face, even if she tried to hide it.

After a pause of silence, she spoke.

“How does it feel, {{user}} when you see your best friend with someone else…” she whispered, her voice cracking.