author's note: yeah... sorry for not posting this yesterday. we all somehow managed to be busy and forget, or, in my case, fall asleep. so here is yesterday's chapter. today's chapter will be posted tomorrow morning. promise. and, yes, tomorrow's chapter will also be posted tomorrow. in the evening.
what else? um, there's a bit of language in this chapter. not much, but some. you have been fairly warned.
thank you to our reviewers. we love you!
--kyra
disclaimer: please accept my word when i tell you that i am not ms. rowling, nor do i own harry potter. if i did, then i'd be able to get both a laptop and a do-gi without having to throw myself at the mercy of my elders. not to mention that package of nano merit badges that i want and am afraid to ask for.


2

Hermione

Hermione hoped that her roommates did not hear her crying into her pillow. She thought she was being good at muffling the noise she made, but it could just be that they were so used to her crying that they did not even notice any longer. After all, Hermione had been doing this rather frequently as of late, and people could get used to just about anything. She shook the thought away, trying to get Parvati and Lavender -- especially Lavender -- out of her head. She did not want to think about them. Not now, not ever.

She held her breath, checking one last time to make certain that they really were asleep. If they were not, then they were doing an exceedingly good job of hiding their wakefulness, and Hermione found that she did not care. Satisfied, she went back to crying and feeling sorry for herself. Unfortunately, it did not seem to help, and she was as miserable now as she had been before she started crying, hours before. Still, she could not bring herself to stop, nor could she contemplate what she would do in the morning. Indeed, she could not contemplate what to do now. Hermione's mind was locked in at one thirty two and twelve seconds this afternoon, when she had walked in on her boyfriend and his "friend" kissing passionately in the room of requirement. Why the room had chosen to show them to her, she did not know, and, quite frankly, she did not care. All she cared about was that she had seen them, and that Ron had been no help at all.

Time ticked, and Hermione cried into her pillow. Slowly, raggedly, she fell asleep, exhausted by anger and sorrow. She was still crying when she woke, and she seriously considered not going to class. No one would begrudge her one sick day... would they?

She sighed as she realized that, even if no one else did, she would blame herself for that loss of one day of education. So she rose, forcing herself to change and at least brush her hair. Glancing at herself in the full length mirror that Parvati had hung on the wall, she saw that her almost sleepless night had not been kind. She was distraught, and it showed. Longingly, she cast a glance at Parvati's many beauty products, thinking that there must be some concealer in there. Unfortunately, Parvati's skin was several tones darker than Hermione's, and she could not even imagine stooping so low as to ask Lavender for help. She would die before she asked Lavender for help, especially if it involved makeup. So she would just suck it up and go to class looking like this. Let them talk; she could care less what they thought. And that included her so called friends.

Growling at the thought of said so called friends, Hermione opened the door and walked down the stairs. She went straight through the common room without stopping, ignoring Harry, who tried to catch up with her. Had this been a comic book, there would have been a black thundercloud over her head, warning people to stay away. Even without such visual cues, Harry got the message, and dropped behind, allowing Hermione to make her way undisturbed to the library, her sanctuary. Madam Pince did not care what she looked like, just so long as she did not damage the books.

She stayed hiding in the back corner of the library until class started, and even then had to force herself to get up and go. Thankfully, the class in question was potions -- the one time in her life Hermione had actually been glad to go to potions -- and neither Harry nor Ron dared ask her what was wrong. As though they could not guess. they were the ones who had caused this, Ron by being a lying, cheating bastard, and Harry by... well, she wasn't so certain how Harry was to blame, but he must be, somehow. everyone was to blame, somehow.

Class came and went. Hermione supposed that she must have produced a passable potion, since Snape's parting glare was no worse than usual, but she had no recollection of the actual brewing of said potion. Vaguely, she thanked her ability to work on auto-pilot, allowing her mind to wander off and feel sorry for herself without allowing her class work to suffer.

At lunch, she sat on her own, looking down at her food and ignoring everything. She had only come to the great hall because her body informed her that it wanted food now. Had she had her way, she would have been back in the library. But her body was deaf to her mind's sorrows, and so Hermione, against her will, went to , because she was so focused on not crying in public, especially when she caught a glimpse of Ron and Lavender sitting next to each other, she did not notice the Slytherins closing in on her until too late.

"Well, what do we have here?" a hated voice sneered, far too close to her.

Hermione ignored Malfoy, hoping that he would go away. It was a fool's hope, she knew, but she could not help wishing. It was not the kind of day which was conducive to the granting of wishes.

"Did your muggle loving boyfriend dump you for someone better?" Malfoy sneered. "Took him long enough, though, granted, your replacement isn't much better."

"Shut up," Hermione gritted. "I don't want to talk to you."

He laughed, and she itched to punch him, to knock the grin off his face and the laughter out of his voice. "She doesn't want to talk to us," he mocked. "Listen to that, the mudblood doesn't want to talk to us!"

Hermione whirled, glaring at him. "I said, shut up!" she screamed. "I don't want to talk to you, I don't want you to talk to me, and I don't give a flaming fuck what you think about that."

Malfoy gaped at her for a moment, then recovered his usual presence. "Language, mudblood," he said coldly, coming closer. "Or I'll have to teach you respect for your betters myself."

Hermione's wand was out and pointed before she realized her intention. If she could hazard a guess, she would say that she looked fairly crazy, glaring at him, face red from last night's self-indulgence, and wand pointed directly at his chest. "Get away," she spat. "All of you. I don't want to talk to you ever again. Do you hear me?" Her voice was rising again. "Ever again!"

He did not move, and she rose, almost incoherent with fury and anguish. "Do you hear me?" she shrieked. "Get out!"

Something in her voice made him, finally, back up. "Be careful where you point that thing, Granger," he warned. "You could hurt someone!"

"I know exactly where I want it pointed," she screamed. "And it's at you!"

"Let's get out of here, Draco," Pansy Parkinson said suddenly. She shot Hermione a look filled with loathing. "Let the little mudblood have her tantrum without witnesses."

Malfoy nodded, also sneering at Hermione. they turned and strode away, laughing as they went back to their table. Hermione watched them go, thoughts still incoherent and scattered.

"Er, Hermione?" someone asked hesitantly. "You don't have to keep your wand up, you know."

She did not even know who it was who addressed her, but it broke the barriers down, barriers she had been constructing much of the day. sudden tears blinded her as she turned and ran out of the great hall, heading for her one sanctuary. Safe in the restricted section of the library, she collapsed, crying silently so as not to disturb madam Pince. She did not emerge for the rest of the day, not caring what other people thought.