Hermione managed to make it back to Gryffindor Tower and Harry and Ron’s dorm room before she exploded.
Neville was innocently lying on his bed reading a Herbology book. “Neville, would you mind reading that somewhere else?” she asked politely.
He was about to refuse until he looked up and saw Hermione’s incredibly angry expression. Something wasn’t right, and judging by the apprehension on Ron’s face, it had something to do with him. Neville wasn’t one to get involved in other people’s domestic problems. “Sure, Hermione,” he replied, jumping up and disappearing pretty quickly.
After Neville had left, she cast a silencing spell over the room. She didn’t want anyone to overhear the shameful details of Ron’s moronic bet. “Do you mind telling me exactly what you have done?” she asked in a deceptively calm voice.
Ron shifted his feet around and looked towards the floor. “I may have made a bet with Malfoy over today’s Quidditch match,” he said.
“And what were the terms of this bet?” she asked once more.
“I would get his Firebolt II if Gryffindor won, and he would get a date with you if Slytherin won,” her boyfriend explained, realising now quite how bad the terms of the bet were.
Hermione closed her eyes and counted to ten whilst taking deep breaths. She didn’t think that she would get away with murdering Ron, no matter how justified the circumstances were. “Why would you agree to something so stupid?”
He looked into the angry face of his girlfriend. “I wanted his broomstick, and I can’t afford one,” he mumbled.
That did it for her. “I can’t believe you would pimp out your girlfriend just for the chance of winning a sodding broomstick, Ronald Weasley!” she yelled.
“I didn’t pimp you out, Hermione,” Ron tried to say soothingly.
Hermione advanced towards him, and he backed up quickly. “Really? So betting your girlfriend to an opposing player is not pimping me out?”
“I didn’t think we’d lose. I mean, Harry had never lost to the Slytherins before today.”
“Oh, that makes me feel so much better about this whole thing, Ronald,” she intoned sarcastically. “Well, you’ll have to find something else to give Malfoy as I refuse go anywhere near him, let alone on a date.”
He looked pained at that. “Hermione, you have to,” he said.
“I don’t have to do anything, Ronald. You don’t own me to bet me away,” she shouted.
“We made an Unbreakable Vow,” he murmured.
She stared at him for a few seconds and gaped, speechless at the sheer audacity of her so-called boyfriend.
“Have you lost all ability to think?” she exclaimed. “So if I don’t go on this date, you’ll die?”
Ron knew the smart thing would be to keep his mouth firmly shut, so he just nodded.
Hermione threw her hands up in the air and paced around the room furiously. “You are a real piece of work, Ronald Weasley. I can’t believe you thought a broomstick -- a piece of wood with twigs hanging off the end -- was more important than the feelings of your girlfriend!” she screamed. “Well, you can kiss your girlfriend goodbye. I’m fed up of putting up with your insensitive behaviour. Not only did you embarrass me at today’s match by panting all over Astoria Greengrass, but then you pulled this stunt.”
Ron looked at Hermione in shock. This wasn’t meant to happen. They were meant to get married and have smart, ginger children and live happily ever after. “You can’t break up with me, Hermione; I love you,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You have a funny way of showing it. Betting me to Draco bloody Malfoy is hardly a sterling declaration of love. But that isn’t the real problem; it’s just a symptom of what is wrong in our relationship.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, clueless as usual.
“I mean that you don’t even show me an ounce of respect. You constantly check out other girls in front of me and flirt with them. I put up with it because I thought that you would grow out of it, but this is the last straw. I’m not a commodity for you to trade in for something else,” she seethed. “I’m tired of looking like an idiot in front of everyone else. No man is worth that.”
She stormed out of the room, bumping into Harry and Ginny who were hovering nervously in front of the door. She didn’t bother to stop and say anything to them, needing to get away before she hexed Ron or did something worse. Books were so much more attractive than boys. They gave you knowledge and didn’t stamp all over your heart in the process.
