Ronald Weasley would pay.

This was Hermione's first thought as she stared at the bold, hurriedly inked front page of the Daily Prophet. The words 'GOLDEN TRIO BETRAYED BY RONALD WEASLEY' stared at her, and below the headline was a lengthy article detailing the man's previous night's activities. She had immediately unwrapped her copy of the Prophet when her owl had delivered it during breakfast, and she had every intention of reading the latest book reviews by her current favorite author. She almost flipped to the literature section right away, when a sudden flash of red had caught her eye on the cover. It wasn't enough that it was front-page news, but this particular story accounted for six whole pages in the Prophet, more so even than last month's coverage of the Quidditch World Cup or the article on her and Ron's initial engagement.

She clutched the goblet in her hand so tightly that she could feel the metal digging into her skin. She was sure that her eyes were flashing, as they always did when she witnessed some injustice or felt particularly passionate about one cause or another. However, today the cause of her anger wasn't house elf abuse or unwarranted prejudice, but a certain red-haired boy whose hair certainly matched her face at this point.

She could feel Harry's worried eyes on her, and she feared she looked unhinged in that moment. She certainly felt crazy. How long had she been staring at the front page? Had she been mistaken, was she imagining things? A quick reexamination of the paper confirmed that she was most definitely not imagining anything. There was Ron Weasley, the man she had loved and so passionately kissed during that moment in the Chamber of Secrets, quite decidedly attached at the mouth to some blonde haired twit with a dress shorter than anything Hermione owned. The article said the picture had been taken last night in a tavern in Diagon Alley. Hermione watched in horror as the girl leaned suspiciously close to Ron, smiling flirtatiously. Ron seemed to say something to the girl which made her giggle and move closer. The next picture was far more explicit, showing a few minutes worth of Ron heavily snogging this same girl, and in public no less!

"Is everything alright, Hermione?"

Harry was peering over her paper, straining to read the headline.

Hermione looked up and pressed her mouth into a hard line.

"See for yourself" she said, thrusting the paper across the table towards Harry.

Harry stared at the cover, and seemed to do a double-take. Hermione would have found this funny, if the situation were different. He adjusted his glasses and took another look at the paper. Meanwhile, Hermione couldn't help noticing that more and more owls seemed to be dropping copies of the Prophet upon every table in the Great Hall. Had everyone seen the paper already? Was she already the laughing stock of Hogwarts?

Harry's suddenly angry expression met Hermione's.

"How could he do this?" Harry slammed the paper back to the table, disrupting his abandoned breakfast and nearly toppling his pumpkin juice. "Are you sure this is real?"

"I'm not sure Harry. But it's not entirely out of character for Ron." It was true that Hermione had fallen in love with Ron and had seen him as her best friend. Once he had proposed immediately after the War's end, even before Reconstruction had begun, Hermione had been almost sure of her future. That Ron was brave and kind and loyal. That Ron wouldn't do this.

This new Ron, however, was unpredictable. Once the Wizarding World had gotten back on its feet and begun rebuilding, everything changed for the Trio. Suddenly, there were award ceremonies and galas to attend, fundraisers to appear at, reporters that wanted answers. Harry, Hermione and Ron's lives were thrown open to the world, yet still Hermione figured that her and Ron's engagement was rock , Ron seemed to love the newfound-attention, the numerous women clamouring for his autograph, a picture, a kiss. Even with his family still grieving, Ron seemed determined to not think about the loss of his brother, and dragged Hermione to every social event one could imagine. He was constantly receiving free Quidditch tickets in the mail, and after seeing six Chudley Cannons games in a row, Hermione had refused to attend another one. Ron then took to attending games without her, and so it went with every party, dinner or appearance. Neither Harry nor herself wanted much to do with the spotlight or the hordes of reporters who stalked them night and day, yet Ron seemed to embrace his new lifestyle. She had seen Ron drunk on numerous occasions, and they had fought several times on the subject.

"You don't understand, Hermione! We're legends; the Wizarding World wants us to be celebrities!"

"I quite understand Ronald." She snapped back. "I just don't see why you have to go to every party in our honor, and I definitely don't understand why you must be thoroughly intoxicated at every function!"

Ron seemed to frown at this, and slammed the bottle he'd been nursing back onto the bar counter. "This has always been my dream, Hermione, I wish you could get that."

Hermione almost laughed at the memory. No, this new Ron was nothing like the one she fell in love with. But they had all grown, hadn't they? The War impacted them all differently, and she had hoped that her relationship would stand the test of this new Ron. As she looked back at Ron's face on the Prophet, she felt herself near tears. She couldn't cry in the Great Hall, for Godric's sake, not with an increasing number of students staring at her.

"Where is Ron anyway?" Harry glanced at the empty seat next to her and began scanning the Great Hall. "Maybe this is all one big joke, at least he could clear it up."

"I don't believe we'll find him here, Harry." Hermione suddenly wished the floor would swallow her up. "That picture is from late last night in Diagon, and as I was up reading all night in the common room and would have seen him enter, I'm quite sure Ronald didn't come home last night." Even as she said it, the words nearly broke her heart again.

Harry's eyes bulged. "You don't mean he...not when you two are… you mean to say he slept with that bint?!"

"That's exactly what I mean to say, Harry." Hermione looked down at her plate, and thought that she might certainly cry.

She was already planning out what the rest of her day. After fleeing from the hall, she would curl up in the Seventh Year dorm, eat smuggled ice cream from the kitchens, and read one of those trashy muggle romance novels she had brought along with her. Although she had a full day of classes, she knew she couldn't stand anyone to see her cry over Ronald Weasley, especially when she was thoroughly embarrassed in front of them all.

Suddenly, she felt a newer pairs of eyes on her. She looked up from her plate and across the Hall, and was startled to find Draco Malfoy giving her a curious look. She had never really looked at Malfoy since they'd returned to school, and it was in that moment which she felt most confused. For a second, she swore she saw something akin to compassion in his eyes. No, that couldn't be right. It must be pity. She saw the Prophet laid flat in front of him, and knew that he must pity the lowly Mudblood, who couldn't hold down a Pureblood man, even when she had trapped him into an engagement. She looked down at her ring, the one Molly Weasley had passed down to her, the one that Ron had proposed with on that summer day at the Burrow, and suddenly it was all too much for her.

Ignoring the eyes on her, Malfoy's infuriating expression, and Harry's shouts of concern, Hermione bolted from her seat, and ran determinedly out of the Great Hall. She could deal with Ron later...