Goodbye, Miss Granger Ch. 01

"Miss Granger," he repeated, now that he had our attention. "A plain but ambitious girl seems to be developing a taste for famous wizards."

It was a quote from Goblet of Fire; a passage where Hermione was incensed to read a cruel newspaper article about herself. It was clever wit by Chester's standards. I froze, loathing rose up inside me like bile; to be teased with one of the few things I truly loved. But Chester wasn't done.

"How're you doing Ricky?" he sneered. "Casting any spells? Has she done any magic on your wand?"

Rick leaped up like he had been bitten. Nobody likes to be the focus of the school bully – I know I sure didn't – but to be caught by a prick like Alan Chester in the tentative stages of your very first romance; well, some people wouldn't blame him for what he did next. I'm not one of those people.

"Aw, get real, Chester!" he ambled over and chucked him on the shoulder like they were mates. "I was just seeing if she'd fall for it and now you've messed it up." He could have left it there, but no. "And she's just like Hermione. She'd do every wizard in Hogwarts given half a chance."

Oh Rick. What did you just do?

Chester laughed like this was the funniest thing he'd heard all year, rather than the most cruel and stupid and hurtful. He turned and put an arm around Rick and said "Tell me everything, man" as they walked off, leaving me speechless with a half-read novel (which would stay that way) and with tears of rage and shame welling up in my eyes.

I spent the period after lunch crying in the girls' toilets; lucky for me there's no roll-call in Year 10. At home after school, I spent a few minutes screaming into my pillow, another hour crying, and then did the only thing I truly regret from that day; I hunted out my Goblet of Fire paperback and ripped out the page that Chester had quoted, tore it into tiny pieces and then hurled it out my bedroom window in a fit of impotent grief.

After five years as my constant imaginary companion, Hermione had let me down. That probably sounds like a harsh judgement on a storybook character; especially one who handled her detractors with far more grace and composure than I did; but that was how I felt. Like a wing-man (is wing-girl even a thing?), she had brokered my introduction to Rick, vouched for his suitability as a romantic interest, and she had virtually placed my hand in his; and in another minute she might have pressed his lips to mine. But then she let that ignorant shit – no, check that, BOTH of those ignorant shits – tear out my heart.

Of course it didn't end there. Word got around and other people tried out 'Miss Granger' jokes on me just to see how I would react. 'Badly' as it turned out; and even though that helped my cause not at all, nobody ever came close to the stunning cruelty and timing of Alan Chester that sunny day on the oval.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix came out in paperback the following year. I bought it and read it at home, but like my love of the series, the story was dark and dangerous with conspiracy and torture and smear campaigns. I felt nothing.

The Prisoner of Azkaban movie debuted in my final year of high school and that started the teasing again with fresh fervour. To the delight of my high-school peers (and to my horror), Hermione, now a pretty 14-year-old, looked almost more like me than I did.

Dad was still buying me first editions at Christmas and I was still reading the paperbacks at home, but the magic of Harry Potter was spoiled. I finished high school friendless and without ever having a boyfriend; nobody would make Rick's mistake and associate with me for fear of making themselves a target.

At least Hermione was getting somewhere with Ron. I envied her.