A/N: Thank you SO much for the reviews they make me so happy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters, JK Rowling does.

She had failed to mention the dispute from that morning to her two best friends, so when Draco sent Hermione a barbaric scowl, the male members of the trio were more than horrified. "What does he think he's playing at? All you've been to him is nice and what does he give back? Crap. Oh, piss off Malfoy. He's staring at the back of your head, by the way. Do you want me to-"

"Ron! Stop. It's fine." Hermione refused to look behind her at Malfoy's table. She continued to raise her eyebrows at Ron, who didn't seem to be stopping his never-ending harangue any time soon.

He ignored her flaring nostrils, a clear sign that she didn't want to hear any more. "You should file a complaint to McGonagall and see if you can get Harry, here, Head Boy." He nudged the latter in the ribs.

"Somehow, I don't think she'll be willing to change Head Boy because Malfoy shot me a dirty look at the lunch table." Rolling her eyes, Hermione continued to eat her sandwiches.

Harry and Ron had become accustomed to being very careful with everything they did when they were around Hermione. Depending on her mood, she either enjoyed the attention or she wanted to be alone so she could weep into her pillow. Yet most of the time, she just wanted them to treat her like before. She knew it would never be the same. She had begun to think about the illness more than ever now, and it physically pained her when her thoughts wandered to the terminal side of it. The sort of pain that you can feel in your core, your gut. The hopeless feeling that makes you feel weak and defeated as you clutch your stomach and desperately fight back the tears.

She obviously looked disdained to the boys, because when she looked up with faint lines on her forehead, the two of them clutched her hands tightly. They released her from their grasp, giving her a sympathetic look. "Hermione..." and she bit the inside of her lip. It dawned on her that she wouldn't be able to hold back the sobs that threatened, that itched at her throat. In the face of the fact, she could not take control, her body stopped obeying her. There was no outlet for her depressed emotions but her cries, so the sorrow and tears spilt over before she could wipe them away with shaking hands.

"I don't want to go to sleep at night because I'm afraid I won't wake up. I need to go home. I can't deal with this." Her words were slurred and muffled because her head was buried in her damp hands.

She heard a small voice beside her. "Maybe you should speak to someone about it." Hermione looked up at Ginny and hair fell from her face. She gnawed at her fingernails, a nervous habit she had managed to bring upon herself. "I'm sure Professor-"

"No. I don't want anyone to know, apart from you three. Please don't make me tell someone else."

"We're not going to force you to, of course not." Ginny clasped her hand over Hermione's. "Just think about it. Let's go and get you cleaned up." As they climbed out of the benches, they noticed the people staring, and Hermione realised she had probably been a tad louder than necessary. "They didn't hear anything, don't worry." With a Ginny's protective arm around the upset girl's shoulders, the two of them were able to exit the Great Hall before anyone questioned anything. The person that did, however, happened to be the Head Boy.

"Granger?" The familiar drawl sounded inappropriately near her ear. The girl in question turned on her heels, casting her gaze onto an undeserving Malfoy. Alarmed, he glimpsed at her streaked and mottled eyes, "what's got your knickers in a twist? Actually," he paused, holding a finger up and looking at a statue mock-thoughtfully. "Don't answer that. I refuse to believe anyone, or anything, has ever had the courage to go anywhere near your underwear." He naturally smirked, seemingly rather satisfied with his comment.

She didn't answer. Instead, the young Weasley responded for her. "Don't. Just fucking don't, Malfoy."

"It was a joke, Weasley. Granger and I had a conversation about this earlier, didn't we? She understands."

Hermione looked at her shoes. Ginny had lent her a few pair of tights to get her through the next few months, and Molly had promised to knit some for Christmas. She had insisted that her own mother could have sent some, but the family were famous for being this kind and generous, so she felt she couldn't have said no. Fortunately, this meant that the swollen knee was concealed, and no one had made any comments since.

"Granger, you should dump those pathetic two boyfriends of yours. If they make you feel like this." The girls didn't know whether this was concern for Hermione or an opportunity to display his sheer hatred for Harry and Ron.

Her voice was tired, "what do you want?"

"Tonight, we should meet at the top of the stairs on the third floor."

Hermione stared. "I told you not to come."

"You were serious?" She nodded. "Well, it's not even your decision, anyway. If you don't want to do it with me, then don't come. I WILL be there, though. End of."

"No," Ginny's attention flicked between the two Heads, rather like watching a tennis match, as they fired stubborn remarks at each other. "You're not doing it. I'm doing it."

"Sorry, am I not speaking English" He dead panned. "I'm Head Boy, therefore I will be doing it. I don't care whether you tag along or not."

He swiftly turned and stalked away. Hermione's chin wobbled. There was a minute moment when she thought she might strangle the floating ghosts who had heard the entire conversation.

Assembled in a structured formation, the Gryffindor Quidditch team listened carefully as their captain roared orders at them from a distance, hovering on his broom. The breeze was lightly nipping at their cheeks, but as they had booked the pitch for the late afternoon, it was barely as harsh as the weather was this morning. They had to be grateful to Harry for this, because he was famous for booking their training hours in any weather he liked, no matter how bitterly cold it was.

Hermione had decided that after their training had finished, Ginny would help her with the next thing on her list. She had come to the conclusion that if she wanted to get any of the things done, she would have to cease her worries and forget her fears. She had the determination, but whether she had the confidence was debatable. Hermione was notoriously reluctant to fly, even since her first year, she was renowned for lacking in faith in herself when it came to broomsticks. She determined this as one of her vulnerable points, and Hermione, being Hermione and now noted as Head Girl, believed that she should demolish all weaknesses that ever were arisen.

So, as she turned her head to peer at the Moontrimmer she had acquired from a willing Fifth Year, Hermione vowed to herself she would vanquish this "Achilles Heel", she had so inconveniently possessed since her first flying lesson, when she discovered it was the one thing she did not excel at. Of course, she had flown before, but only in a time of absolute need, and so she wasn't completely inexperienced. The aim was to nip it in the bud.

She watched anxiously as the players lowered to the ground and began exiting the pitch. Harry, Ron and Ginny began to make their way to the seating area, where Hermione has clasped her gloved hands in between her thighs in an attempt to gather some warmth. She tentatively smiled. "I'm sorry about earlier, I wasn't feeling too good, if you hadn't noticed. I'm okay, now."

Harry put his arm round her and moved her broomstick aside. "It's fine, Hermione. Honestly, we understand if you want to have a breakdown now and again." He glanced at the Moontrimmer, which Ron was fiddling with. " What's this?"

"Oh, uh..."

Hermione alarmingly glimpsed at Ginny, who fortunately caught on quickly. "She brought it for me; one of my foot rests has broken off."

Ron frowned and inspected his sister's Nimbus 2001. "What are you talking about? It's in perfect condition! Ginny, you know we can't afford-"

"Ginny, we should just tell them." Ginny looked a little crestfallen at this remark, and this was most likely due to the fact she wanted this to be a secret, just between the pair of them. Harry and Ron looked positively perplexed, and were eager to hear what came next. "I created a list of things that I want to do before I die." She ignored Ron's unsubtle wince and continued. "I want to make the most of these next few months, you know? I thought this was a good way to do it. So, Ginny's helping me with it. The next one is: 'To be able to fly with ease'."

Earlier

Hermione was barely managing her Charms homework when Ginny's voice interrupted her thoughts. "I agree with this one. This one you should definitely do."

"Hm?" Ginny had taken to talking to herself recently, so Hermione was unsure of whether this remark was directed at her.

The red-headed girl slipped into the chair next to her and placed the list on the table. "The flying one. Finally, you can come out and fly with the boys and I in the Summer! I'm sick of being the only girl."

Hermione looked up and shot her a taxing glance. "Yeah. If I'm still with you."

"Hermione!"

She leant back in her seat, grimacing as she trapped a kink in her hair in the spindle of the chair."What, Ginny? What do you want me to say? I'm not going to ignore it, or sugar coat it for that matter!"

"I know. I'm sorry. You know how I feel about you mentioning it like that, it's as if you don't care."

"That's because I don't. I'm sorry if you don't want to hear this, Gin, but I can and I will mention my illness in a conversation without hesitance and that's just my way of dealing with it. So actually, I'm not sorry."

"Oh, come off it, Hermione. This is not your way of dealing with it, this is your way of hiding behind a stupid façade so that we think that you're okay and you can talk about it openly because you've got it all under control and you're totally cool with it. Well, you're bloody not, I can tell you that now, Hermione Granger. I know you, and you're not okay with any of this."

"I have no other option."

"I know, but you can talk to me about this. You don't have to pretend you're fine and dandy with the fact you don't know when your life is going to end." Ginny closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

"That's just it, Gin. No one knows when their life is going to end. It's the fact that I do. I do, and it's in a year or two. You don't know how this feels!"

"I can try! Help me understand, Hermione!"

The Head Girl shook her head. "Ginny, don't stress about it."

Now

Harry and Ron, who had volunteered to help with this particular wish, had managed to hoax Hermione into mounting the broom. The next challenge was to somehow persuade her to hover at their height. Brushing aside her protests, Harry inched forward on his own Firebolt and told her to shift her weight towards the front to accelerate. "What makes you think I want to go any faster, Harry?" He hid a smile.

The breeze had, by some means, become significantly more powerful, and were now coming in great, harsh gusts from the North. This made it increasingly harder for Hermione to concentrate when all she was thinking about was how not to fall off her broom. He gave her a reassuring pat on the back, and she was astonished, despite watching most of his Quidditch games since their first year, that he could fly with no hands. "You're not going to fall. Even if you did, you know how many times I've fallen off my broom, and I'm always fine!"

She wobbled, quickly catching her feet on the wooden foot rests. "Well, this is different. You're experienced and I bruise easily."

The boys smiled sadly. They, and Ginny, circled her with wicked grins on their faces. "So, to go higher-"

"I can do it!" She paused, muttering, "I don't need you to help me." She saw Ron exchange a look with Ginny from the corner of her eye as she leant towards the end of the broom, straightening her back. She felt the clearly quite ancient Moontrimmer jerk in the wrong direction. She felt the drop in her stomach and the pure panic in her voice as she lowered her eyes to the floor, holding onto the handle for dear life. "Boys!" Hermione attempted to steady herself as the trio watching her glided above her.

Ron spoke, "the key to flying well is-"

"Balance! Yes, I know, Ronald!" She swiped the hair from her face and heaved a sigh. "Okay, I'm fine." She heard a cackle, and whipped her head round to furiously glower at the three. "Stop laughing! Stop! You know I'm not good at this."

They looked perplexed. Ginny pitied her, "you're hearing things, Hermione. No one was laughing."

Hermione frowned, but didn't question it, mainly because Ginny was looking at her in a very bizarre way. "Well, okay. We should go. I have to do my Rounds in an hour."

"I thought you weren't going to do them. Malfoy is."

"I should apologise." Ginny looked at her knowingly, remembering number four on Hermione's list.

Ron grinned as he dismounted his broom. "So are you going to tell us what else is on the list?"

Ginny silently laughed. "You have nothing to apologise for, Hermione. And Ronald, she will show you when she wants to. Stop pressuring her." He rolled his eyes.

The two Weasleys had not climbed from their broomsticks, and this left Harry and Hermione floating ten feet above them. Harry languidly lowered himself and disembarked, in such a graceful and practised manner that it almost looked as if it was choreographed. "I feel like I'm going to plunge into the grass when I push to the ground."

"You won't, trust me." She heard the cackle again, quieter now, but this time she knew it wasn't anyone she was with. Grinding her teeth and grasping the handle so that the skin of her knuckles spread thinly over her bones, she descended to the floor. As soon as she was off the broom, her heart slowed down and she physically could feel her muscles loosening "Thank you." Her voice was a whisper.

"Nice flying." The two Heads had been doing their rounds for half an hour, in approximately complete silence. 'Approximately', because there had been one point where Draco had attempted to nudge some words out of her, but failed pathetically. He hadn't tried since. Hermione slowly angled her head to face Malfoy with a deathly fixed look.

"Excuse me?"

The two turned the corner and their hands brushed together. Draco made a noise that could have been perceived as a growl. Hermione wondered why he made that specific noise. "I was watching Potter and the Weasleys give you flying lessons. I didn't realise so many people from the Gryffindor team had dropped out that they'd have to stoop so low and pick you as a part."

She focused on the walls, daring to control herself and not throw a punch exactly like in third year. It occured to her that Malfoy had been the one chuckling in the distance. "I'll have you know, Malfoy, I was only having another go at flying." She absolutely refused to admit to Malfoy she had this weakness.

"Oh, shove off, you're scared."

She stopped in her tracks and bored into to the space between his shoulder blades. "No, I am not."

He shrugged his shoulders with laughter. "Okay, then. You're not."

"I am not, Malfoy!" She was approaching him now, with a fiery look in her eyes. It was like he was trying to make it more difficult for her to complete number four of her list.

"I believe you! Merlin, calm down." He began to walk again, and she struggled to keep up with his extra long strides, which she was sure he was doing on purpose.

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down!" Hermione bit her lip and turned away as she felt a catch in her throat. The second time she'd shed tears today.

"Granger, why are you crying?" It was as if he'd never seen a girl crying before, even though he had. Because he'd seen her. No matter how much she tried, the walls she had tried to build to hide her from people being aware of her true feelings were collapsing and tumbling to the ground in great, big pieces. As if, each time her eyes watered, she pushed a brick to the floor, creating a gaping whole in this false exterior. "Are you being serious?"

Jaded, Hermione replied. "You have no fucking idea, Malfoy, about how I'm feeling. And you never will. You just don't get it. I don't intend for you to know, or understand."

"You're a fucking nightmare, Granger. Steer clear of me apart from our Head duties." He was walking away, when he turned and lifted his index finger. "Seriously, stay well away."

A/N: A bit of a filler there with a lot of dialogue, which I apologise for, because I know that's almost a sin in the world of fiction and a bad combination, but it (somewhat) had to be done. Thanks for the reviews, as always, and let me know what you think on this one, of course! I love criticism and will take it in my stride so don't be afraid to be too harsh.

Also, I have a request for you guys. As you know, Hermione's made a bucket list for herself, and I was wondering if any of you wanted to request something for that list. I've only got a few things on it at the moment, so here's an opportunity for you to request something. Obviously I won't do all of them, but I'll pick a few, if I like your suggestions! Thanks a lot, that would be a great help.

I'm also going to Devon for the next week, so the next chapter might be slightly delayed, but I'm taking my laptop with me so (fingers crossed) I'll be able to write!

Ps. I like long reviews but don't worry too much about that :)

Pps. Phew, that was a really long author's note, sorry!