Hermione, heart beating erratically in her chest, glared across the Great Hall at Blaise Zabini as he calmly ate his lunch, chatted with Malfoy, and completely ignored her. "It's ridiculous!" she hissed to the table at large.

"I'm not so sure, Hermione."

Hermione shifted her anger to the redhead next to her. "What do you mean? He did it on purpose!"

"Well," Ron started, suddenly finding himself in the unusual position of defending a Slytherin, "I can't see why he would want to get the highest mark on the Arithmacy quiz just to spite you."

"He's never cared about his grades before, has he?" Hermione pointed out. "And now, all of a sudden, he's doing nothing but studying. It's sickening." She sank down in her seat and scowled at her potatoes.

"Perhaps he's just, you know, getting ready for the N.E.W.T.s?" Harry offered, a bit warily.

Hermione snorted. "And I'm getting ready to kick his arse," she returned.

"But, that doesn't make any sense--"

"Shut it, Neville," Ron whispered out of the corner of his mouth, elbowing him sharply in the ribs. "Ah, Hermione," he said, nodding over to her, "Harry's got a point..."

But Hermione was no longer listening. "I'm just going to have to study harder," she muttered to herself, pushing her full plate away from her and rising from the table.

Ginny, worried, rushed after her as she left the hall. "Hermione, I know you're upset--"

"I'm not upset," she snapped, and then completely negated that statement by bursting into tears.

Ginny quickly grabbed her arm and steered her into an empty classroom. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly as she closed the door behind them.

"No," Hermione sniffed, wiping her cheeks. "I just want to transfigure Blaise into a mouse and let Crookshanks eat him."

Ginny bit her lip and clasped her hands behind her back. She had no idea what had happened between Zabini and her friend nearly two weeks before, but Hermione had been on the edge of miserable ever since. "It might help," she said.

Hermione choked back a sob and leaned into Ginny's side. "He's a bloody horrible git and I don't want to talk about him," she said.

"It's okay," Ginny said, wrapping one arm around the other girl's waist. "We don't have to."

"Oh, God, Gin, every thing's messed up," she whispered in between sniffles and hiccups. "I miss him so much. He would tear up my lists right in front of me, you know, and make me laugh 'til my sides hurt."

Knowing that Hermione was notorious for foisting her Organizational Lists on everyone within studying distance, Ginny thought it a bit odd that Zabini disregarding them so easily would make her laugh, but she nodded her head encouragingly.

"He'd even sneak me hot chocolate in the library, the sweet bastard. And all I did was bother him about studying--"

"But you bother everybody about studying," Ginny broke in.

Hermione ignored her. "And then I found out that the only reason he went out with me in the first place was to get closer to you."

"What?" Ginny's eyes widened and she stepped away from Hermione.

"He was using me," Hermione said bitterly, her tears rapidly drying. "And then he had the gall to say it didn't matter anymore. That he loved me."

Ginny stood there, stunned, watching as Hermione started pacing the length of the classroom.

"The dumb arse," Hermione mumbled. "The stupid sod. He thinks he can just confess something like that and then expect me to jump for joy? What about everything else? The kisses, the notes he'd send me in class, the little cutout hearts he'd hide in my books that made my chest hurt? Did he think he could just toy with me and that I'd be okaywith it?" Her voice rose to a shout as she stopped in front of Ginny. "And you didn't have any idea, did you? That he'd sneak into the Gryffindor Tower to see you, not me?"

Ginny opened and closed her mouth dumbly, not knowing what to say. Finally, she sputtered, "B-but Hermione, he said he loved you and--"

"And what? How can I believe that when everything else was a lie? He was probably just trying to get a shag out of me before leaping on you." The anger suddenly faded, leaving her tired and drawn. "I think I love him, Gin," she confessed dejectedly.