Hermione's POV:

Her tears had stopped quite some time ago, her cheeks were now dry, and her eyes weren't as red as before. She hoped that when she made it back to the dormitory, no one would be able to see she had been crying.

In a state of paranoia, Hermione thought she heard a shuffling of footsteps behind her, but when she turned to look, there was nothing there. All of the portraits in the hallway surrounding her were sleeping, there gentle snores saved her from the unbearable silence. She kept her wand tucked away, not wanting to call unneeded attention to herself.

She and Draco had parted ways not so long ago, barely any words shared between them other than "I'll see you later." Her lips still stung from the electricity that bolted through her when Draco kissed her. Her hand reached up, brushing across her lips as she made her way up to the Seventh Floor, toward the Gryffindor Common Room. She desperately hoped that Ron had already made his way to bed, the effects of the Firewhiskey making him drowsy.

She just reached the landing of the Seventh Floor when a pair of hands grabbed her from behind, one wrapping around her waist, while the other clasped over her mouth. She recognized the rough, calloused hands immediately. A tremor worked its way through her body.

What was he doing? He dragged her from the Seventh Floor corridor, without Hermione making a sound. He was much stronger than she was, and she knew not to fight back. Not yet. His breath was hot and heavy in her ear when he finally stopped in front of an empty wall. Hermione knew where she was. How many times in the past few years had she entered this room? No one would be able to find them here, and she shuddered again, tears pushing over her eyelids as she realized his intent.

She tried to struggle against his hands, but it was no use. He pushed her into the room, his shoulder pressed against her back. When they were both inside the room, he released her and spun her around to face him. She stared into the face she had one known. His bright orange hair was the same as before, but now his features had hardened, his eyes were no longer the smiling orbs they had once been. Now they were cold, distant, ones she didn't recognize.

"Ron," she whispered, her voice cracking. Her throat was dry with fear of what he might do to her.

"I saw you with him, you know," he said, his voice menacing. It wasn't his voice – His words were slurred, with an edge that Hermione didn't associate with him. "How could you do that? You don't let me touch you for months, but the moment we're back in school, you run off to him," he spit the word at her, like it was poison on his tongue. "He's the enemy, but that obviously doesn't matter to you."

He stepped toward her, pressing her against the wall. His hands gripped her hips, his fingers curling into the soft skin. Hermione knew she would have bruises in the morning.

"Since you like our enemy so much, maybe you deserve to be treated like one, too," Ron said, his voice low, threatening. One hand released her and it raised, Hermione's eyes trained on it. It lowered, connecting with her jaw, a white hot pain spreading through her face and down her neck. She choked back a sob, her eyes closing tight as her jaw clenched.

His arm pulled back again, but this time his hand was curled into a fist when it made contact with her stomach. Her body lurched forward as she fought for her breath. "Ron," she wheezed, her lids covering over her brown eyes. "Please…" She coughed again, her arms folding over her stomach.

Releasing his other hand from her side, his hands gripped her shoulders as her body slumped. The next thing she felt, her back collided to the wall behind her. For a moment, she didn't feel his hands anywhere on her body. Finally, her legs gave out beneath her, and she fell to the floor, defeated. She heard feet walk a few steps away from her, then turn back.

Her heavy eyelids opened, and scanned the room slowly. He was kneeling in front of her, his face close to hers. "You'll get what you deserve," he whispered, his voice sending tremors through her. "This is only the beginning."

Her body crumpled, her knees pulling in to her chest. When she heard the door close, her head leaned forward, tears falling uncontrollably from her eyes. Her body quaked as the sobs racked her small frame. Hermione didn't cry, normally. But this was too much.

Draco's POV:

It was Saturday, and classes had been called off for the weekend. Draco rose from his bed, stifling a yawn. Then, memories from the night before flooded back to him. The feel of her lips against his, the way she sighed softly whenever he touched her. Even just the thought of it made her smile.

He headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast with the rest of the Slytherins. As they were eating, his eyes drifted across the room to the Gryffindor table, landing on Potter and Weaselbee. Hermione wasn't sitting with them. Maybe she was sitting further down the table with Loony or Longbottom, but she wasn't there either. It wasn't like Hermione to skip out on anything, even if it was just breakfast.

Draco finished quickly, leaving half of his breakfast still on his plate. He was the first to leave the Great Hall, and as he scanned the room once more before leaving, he noticed Weasley's eyes following him.

He left the Great Hall, turning and jumping onto one of the staircases heading up just as it was about to move. He walked to the edge of the staircase and waited for it to come to a stop. He counted all the landings and when the staircase finally stopped, he was at the Seventh floor. In all honesty, he hadn't spent much time on the Seventh floor. It was mainly where the Gryffindor common room was, and he tried to stay as far away from there as possible. But, in his search for Hermione, this might be a good place to start.

Just as he turned the corner, about to start his search, Draco saw the back of her head walking away from him. He picked up his speed so he was nearly running to catch up with her. She was still in the uniform she was wearing last night, he noticed, and her curls were ruffled like she hadn't brushed it yet.

"Hermione," he said quietly when he finally caught up to her. He reached out, his hand brushing hers, hoping she'd stop.

"Leave me alone," she whispered, keeping her face turned from him. What had he done? Last night when they parted ways, everything seemed to be okay. There was no way he could have done something to her since then. Her voice sounded scratchy, like she had been crying.

Gently, his hand clasped around her wrist, and tugged, willing her to stop. "Can't you tell me what's wrong?" he whispered. Her pace slowed, and when she turned to face him, he could see the redness in her eyes. She had, in fact, been crying. "What's wrong?" he whispered again, his voice barely audible.

Then he saw it – the redness that colored her swollen lip and the deep purple that circled her eye. "What happened to you?" he asked, the tone of his voice menacing, different from the concern that filled it before. His grey eyes swirled with anticipation of what she might say. Honestly, Draco couldn't think of someone that would hurt her like this.

Since it was just the two of them in the corridor, Draco's hand released Hermione's wrist, wanting to be gentler as his hand lifted and his fingertips brush her lip, where the swelling was. No wonder she wasn't at breakfast this morning. Draco felt his heart sink when he noticed her head turn from his hand, almost like a flinch. As much as he would have enjoyed Granger's pain a couple of years previous, the thought of it now caused his stomach to churn.

"Let me help you," he murmured, his eyes searching her warm brown ones. He could see the pain within their depths and he vowed to himself, in that moment, that he would never hurt this girl standing in front of him.

Taking out his wand, Draco moved it carefully in front of her face, and murmured a set of very familiar words. "Vulnera Sanentur," he whispered, watching the redness and bruises fade from her face. The words caused him a sense of déjà vu that he didn't particularly enjoy. His mind was momentarily brought back to sixth year, in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and his duel with Potter. Snape had saved him that night, one of many times.

Hermione's POV:

"Thank you," she whispered, the first thing she had said to him since he found her. She immediately felt the pain dissolved from her face and stomach, the results of last night's events.

She considered telling Malfoy what had happened between her and Ron, but she had a good feeling that Malfoy's reaction wouldn't be forgiving. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" she heard him murmur once more, his cold, strong hand returning gently to her face. Hermione simply shook her head – She didn't need Malfoy to fight her battles for her, and she knew that's what would happen if she explained.

"Can we just go somewhere?" she asked quietly, her brown eyes finally lifting to meet his. She was still in her clothes from the day before and her long mane hadn't been tamed, but she didn't care in that moment. The only person she cared about seeing her was already standing in front of her.

"Want to go to Hogsmeade? We can spend the day there – get butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks', shop a little at Honeyduke's and Zonko's," he suggested. The idea of getting out of the castle and Ron's proximity for the day appealed to her.

Her head nodded as she agreed. "I'll meet you at the bridge in a half hour," she said, her mood brightening slightly. She leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before taking off down the hallway and behind the Fat Lady.

Draco's POV:

Exactly a half hour later, Draco was waiting at the bridge, just outside the main double-doors of the school. She was nowhere to be seen, but Draco decided to be patient for once in his life. He waited, leaning against the railing of the bridge, watching the other students pass back and forth in front of him, none stopping to actually notice him.

When he finally seen her approaching him, Draco smiled. She looked much better than she had earlier that morning. Her chocolate eyes swirled and her hair had been brushed perfectly, the curled framing her face. He straightened up and took a few steps to meet her, holding his hand out.

"Let's go," he whispered as he leaned down to her ear and they both headed across the bridge toward the little town.


A/N: AHH. It's so hard to make Ron be the bad guy. As much as I like Dramione, I love Ron. Anyway, I hope you all like it, and I'm sorry it took me so long to post another chapter. I've had written for nearly 2 months, but I just hadn't had time to post it! As always, feedback is appreciated (: