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“Seen ‘Mione?”
Gangly limbs slouched into the opposite armchair. Ron ran a hand through his auburn strands, peering around the Eighth Year common room and scowling.
“I’m late on my Charms essay and was hoping to glance at hers.”
“Must be at the library,” Harry said, brow furrowed. “She has an Advanced Arithmancy exam tomorrow and it’s—” he cast a Tempus “—half seven. She’ll be there all night.”
“That’s what I thought,” Ron groaned impatiently. “But I looked everywhere, and she’s not there.”
Harry considered this, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. That was odd. But then again…
“She has been scarce as of late,” Harry said slowly, recalling how she had unexpectedly missed their regular trip to Hogsmeade last weekend. She had later shown up flushed in the Great Hall, saying she had been brewing in the dungeons. Actually, Harry mused with some alarm, she had been turning up flushed more often than not. Was she getting ill? Adopting a new exercise regimen?
“And acting weird,” Ron agreed, unwrapping a chocolate frog and cavalierly shoving it into his mouth. “More, I dunno, relaxed? And she actually watched the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match on Tuesday. Didn’t even bring a book.”
“In Transfiguration the other day,” Harry recalled, “she didn’t even blink when she got grouped with the Slytherins. In fact, she looked rather pleased.”
Ron grunted. “Slimy gits.” He unwrapped another Chocolate Frog. “Ginny thinks she’s getting shagged within an inch of her life, but I told her that’s ridiculous.”
Harry snorted. “Would have to be some shag, for her to skip studying for Advanced Arithmancy…” he trailed off, eyes going wide. The flushed cheeks. Odd disappearances. Relaxed demeanor.
He summoned the Marauder's Map, tapping it quickly. Ron peered over his shoulder, chewing loudly.
“Oi, Harry!” He jabbed a finger at the map. “What is Hermione doing in the Slytherin dorms with Malfoy?”