Title: Virtus et Iudicium

Author: Anjali Malfoy

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter or its characters.

A/N: Once again, thanks to the massive response to this story! Thanks for the big 100 reviews – that made me rather excited!

Rozanya: I'm so glad you liked this story – and I'm glad you want to read Pride and Prejudice! It's a brilliant story and if you don't want to read the whole thing (because I rarely find books that I love to read), I totally recommend the movie – not the one with Keira Knightly. It's a BBC version and has Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle, and it 6 hours long (yeah, I know) and is the best rendition I have ever seen, and I highly recommend it.

Kayin: That was super sweet and yeah, I'd love to talk to you about this and such either online or in person! I love discussing character development etc especially about books I love aka Harry Potter.

Obsessivepottercullendisorder: I'm not sure who your friend is – but tell him/her thank you for me! That was very sweet.

Ebm56: Haha, that was super sweet and definitely an ego booster– but I ain't a genius for taking physics there. Glad you're loving this story!

Now on with the story...

Chapter VIII: Orexis

"Amor animi arbitrio sumitur, non ponitur" -- We choose to love, we do not choose to cease loving.

"Miss Granger, " Snape said as he swept by her desk, "are you attempting to make enough Wolfsbane Potion to feed the entire werewolf population?" he asked, nodding at the pile of wings she had neatly stacked on her desk with a modicum of disdain.

Hermione flushed in embarrassment, the pink color growing darker under his severe gaze. "No sir," she said quickly, " the manual said we needed an aliquot of wings. I merely took a few extra just in case I needed a few more or messed up."

"Well your 'extra' was enough to rid the stockroom of its supply." He shifted his gaze from her as he briefly surveyed the room, his cool gaze sweeping over the room like a calm wave gently sliding over sand, sharply noting what stage each student was at in their potion. "Miss Granger, though there are some students in here who I would dearly love to fail," his gaze sweeping over Harry, " I suggest you give your remaining butterfly wings to Mr. Malfoy, since you are the only one who is past the step requiring the use of this ingredient."

She was vaguely aware that next to her, Harry and Ron had naturally looked up from their cauldrons at Snape's arrival and were watching their exchange. Both were wearing identical expressions of loathing and disgust on their faces. Harry's lip curled in anger and disdain as Snape's gaze swept over him. Ron on the other hand looked like he would like nothing more than to hex him. If looks could kill, Snape would be lying in a pile of smoldering ashes at their feet.

"Malfoy?" she squeaked. Her grip around her knife became so tight, the white color of her knuckles were clearly visible even in the hazy colored smoke created by the potions.

Panic and fear spread throughout Hermione like water permeating through a paper towel, soaking each and every fibre, until no more could be soaked, leaving a mess behind. She closed her eyes unaware of Harry's curious gaze.

If she thought she was in hell last week, it was nothing compared to what she was experiencing now. She hated what emotions he still managed to bring up in her - desire, fear, and anger. It was getting harder and harder for her to cover up her emotions and to lie to Harry and Ron. The guilt she felt when she was with Ron was becoming unbearable. It was eating at her, little by little, like a parasite slowly feasting on her despair and sorrow. Every time they were together, part of her just wanted to tell him what had happened but at the moment she would falter. She couldn't bring herself to shatter the look of happiness on his face and love so clearly shown in his eyes. If he wasn't so good to her, this would have been easy, she wouldn't be feeling so sick, so overwhelmed. His goodness and obvious love for her only served to make her feel worse than ever.

They hadn't said anything, it had only been three days. But even deep down she knew her behavior looked bizarre. She was spending more and more time in her room in the comfort of her bed, not coming out unless it was time for classes or meals. She had overslept her patrolling duties the last three days. Her predicament was certainly not helped by the fact that she lived with Harry. The looks he had been giving her were unnerving, as though he could see something she wasn't able to.

The universe was working against her. Every natural force out there was working against her. There could be no other plausible explanation. Twice in the last three days alone, she had somehow found herself alone with him in a dark corridor and both times he had managed to corner her. Luckily, someone had come both times and he had been forced to let her go. She'd scurry away like a helpless prey that its merciless captive had let go out of a moment of weakness. She could still feel his gaze on her back, burning through her like a spark hitting a piece of parchment, burning its way through each and every fibre, until nothing but a gaping hollow wound remained.

She knew what he was up to. Avoiding him had been the hardest thing she had had to do in her life. She could feel his gaze on her periodically throughout class, but she'd resolutely stared in front of her, forcing her gaze to stay on the blackboard. Those eyes were all she could see when she closed her eyes. Haunted, pleading, anger, but underneath it all, determination. But when he looked away, those emotions were wiped clean, like chalk on a clean state, swiftly and effortlessly removed with a swipe of the eraser, leaving no indication anything had been written there.

"Are you waiting for something Miss Granger?" Professor Snape's brusque voice cut into her thoughts like a sharp saw into a slab of wood.

"No Sir," she mumbled. She could feel Harry's gaze on her every move, as though she were a struggling insect under a microscope, helpless and trapped, each her action and emotion magnified tenfold, transparent for him to see and interpret.

"Well then, get a move on Miss Granger. Mr. Malfoy doesn't have all day."

Harry was still critically watching her, his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as she gathered the wings slowly into the palm of her hand before approaching him. He continued to watch her closely as she walked to where Malfoy stood in the opposite corner of the dungeon, his back to them, furiously and feverishly working over his cauldron. Malfoy turned around as she approached him. His gaze never left hers as she stood awkwardly across his table, looking everywhere around the cramped dungeon but him. He could see the nervousness written across her face even through the thick gray fumes emanating from the cauldron.

"Here are your wings," she said hastily, dumping the wings next to his smoking cauldron, desperate to leave as fast as possible.

"Granger, you knocked all the wings off my desk," Draco's voice said loudly behind her.

Hermione swirled around, staring at Draco in shock. The wings she had placed on his desk were now scattered messily around his desk.

"I did not," she whispered furiously, glancing around her quickly to make sure that no one was watching or hearing them. Her eyes caught Harry's and held them for a brief moment before he dropped his gaze. Turning her attention back to Malfoy, she balled her hands into fists by her side. "You know very well that --"

"Do you want really me to tell Snape that you did this," he whispered, "You know very well that our Houses are very close in the rankings and you also known Snape would never side with you over me. Think about what your House would think of you if you lost them five mere points because you refused to help? It would be a pity to end the streak your House has had so far wouldn't it?"

Hermione could do nothing but stare at Draco furiously, knowing the truth behind his words. Her breath was steadily increasing in speed, intensity, slowly growing more angry. Without another word, she dropped to her knees and began gathering the feathers hastily, crushing some of them in her palm, so great was her rush to get away.

"There is no hurry you know," he said, bending down to join her, though making no effort to help her. He placed a hand over the one holding the wings.

"Get your hand off me," she snapped furiously, slapping his hand with her free one, dropping the wings in the process.

"Dammit," she swore, holding her head in her hands before beginning to pick up the wings. She could feel Draco's eyes following her every movement.

"Why are you doing this," she asked tiredly. She swiped at her forehead with her sleeve, as beads of sweat began lining her forehead, unable to reach them, her hands were so full of wings.

"We need to talk, Granger, and you need to stop avoiding it." He gently reached up and wiped her forehead with the edge of the sleeves of his robe causing her to fall silent. Her flinch at their contact had not escaped him.

"We have nothing to talk about," she said, breaking the silence and lowering her gaze from his eyes to the floor. She kept her eyes focused on the floor in front of her, barely moving her lips.

"How can you say we have nothing to talk about?"

She didn't answer. Standing up, she shoved the wings on his desk and before he could further interrogate her, grabbed him by the scruff of his collar.

"Don't even dare think about knocking them off again," she hissed, her eyes boring into his.

"Don't think this is anywhere close to being over, Granger," a twisted smile crossing his face. "Just wait. You better watch your back because wherever you go Granger, I will be right behind you, waiting."

Stunned and taken aback by the venom in his voice, Hermione let go of his collar abruptly and stepped back as he roughly yanked it back into position. The implicit threat hung there between them, laced delicately and intricately in his words, his voice sweet yet hard, just like powdered sugar glazed on a pastry.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Harry observing them yet again, his piercing green eyes quickly darting from her clenched fists to their eye contact to their sheer proximity, his eyebrows furrowed, the expression on his face indecipherable. Without another word, merely shooting him a pointed glare, she turned on her heel and stalked back towards her table. Harry was still looking at her, the intensity of his gaze beginning to unnerve her.

She was shaken, rattled. It was a sharp contrast from the anger she clearly displayed after an encounter with Malfoy, a difference as clear as that between black and white. The only signs, letting him know she was nervous were her clenched fists by her side and her eyes which were darting every which way of the dungeons, looking everywhere but him. Anytime her eyes got close to him, they would magically slide around him, as though he didn't exist.

"Bottle whatever you have managed to succeed to finish in this allotted time in a vial." Professor Snape's voice cut into the tense silence like a knife. "Write your name and submit them on my desk. Mr. Weasley, a brief word with you if you please."

Ron groaned as he messily filled a glass vial with his dark blue liquid, the thick viscous liquid bubbling and spilling over the top and clinging to the sides of the vial.

"You guys go on," he panted, wiping the sweat off his forehead, "I'll be there in a minute."

They walked up the stairs in silence, their footsteps echoing, as the silence between them grew larger and more powerful. Hermione wracked her brain, desperately trying to find something, anything to talk about that didn't involve Malfoy or potions or Ron. But Harry beat her to it.

"What's going on Hermione?" Harry's voice was so quiet and soft, yet so powerful it echoed in the empty stone pathway.

Hermione abruptly stopped in her tracks, her stomach plummeting, as though she had just fallen from a broomstick that was suspended fifty feet in the air.

"What do you mean, 'what's going on'?" she said lightly, plastering a smile on her face.

Harry sighed. He wasn't getting anywhere with this. She was still being stubborn, refusing to let him in, and it only served to make him more suspicious of her behavior and the exchange he had seen between her and Malfoy a few moments ago. He had no other choice but to cut to the chase.

"Does it have something to do with Malfoy, Hermione?"

That got her attention. Hermione looked sharply at him. The fear and trepidation was plain for everyone to see in her eyes, and then he knew, with a painful twist of his stomach, that his intuitions had been dead on. It was as though a storm of emotions was flooding through him, intertwining and melting together like different colored paints on a pastel, all colliding and mixing together until no single color remained. But as he ran his eyes over the broken girl in front of him, all his anger evaporated like water droplets after the morning dew coming to contact with the hot sun.

He had seen her grow for seven years, watched her thrive and blossom, slowly growing from a young girl to a mature, brave woman. Harry watched in horror as a spectrum of fear and misery flitted across her face coupled with bleak realization and resignation and sheer helplessness. After watching her take everything she had to face until now calmly in her own stride , he also knew how to recognize her breaking point when he saw it.

"That's enough Hermione," said Harry firmly. He gently but firmly caught her by the straps of her bag and pulled her to him. "Look, I understand why you wouldn't want to talk to me and Ron about him. But hell," he ran his hand through his messy locks in frustration, "you can't tell me that the reason you haven't been yourself isn't partly due to him."

Hermione didn't respond. She merely stared at the wall next to him.

"Come on Hermione," he pressed, dropping his bag next to him, completely ignoring that his books had fallen out and lay in a heap on the floor, "You've missed the last three patrols, not one Hermione, three, and that too, consecutive ones, which is completely unlike you. You never leave your room unless we have class and unless I force you out to eat with us, and you always look like you're about to cry. What did you think, that I wouldn't notice this?"

"You're overreacting Harry." Hermione laughed, desperately trying to make light of the situation, but it sounded phony and hollow, even to her own ears. "It's just the NEWT exams, there's a ton of ..."

Merlin, even now she was still fighting him. "No, Hermione, it's not because of NEWTS," scoffed Harry. "Did you really think I would believe that, after knowing you this long? You've never let the stress of work get to you. Never. And if it was too much, you would tell either me or Ron."

The loud noise of someone coming up the steps could be heard, and within minutes Ron's long, lanky shadow could be seen on the off-green walls, stretching and twisting in a distorted manner, nearly causing Hermione to collapse from relief at having saved her from having to answer Harry's incriminating comments and questions. Harry knew he only had a few brief seconds before Ron came, and not wanting to give any impression of what had just happened, quickly bent down and tidied up his belongings.

"I don't want to force you to talk to me Hermione," he said quickly and softly, "But I am here, always here for you whenever you're ready and I want you to remember that first and foremost, regardless of any feelings I have toward anyone, you are my best friend and you come first."

"All right." Ron came up, jogging up the stairs, pulling his bag over his arm, calling at them. "The git just wanted to talk to be about my substandard potion, saying some rubbish about how if I didn't improve my dream of becoming an Auror would soon be shattered. Like he knows what he's talking about. Why did you guys wait here? That was mighty nice but I told you that you could have gone ahead."

Hermione shot Harry a silent look of thanks as Harry quickly asked a question, diverting the attention from the class to Quidditch. She wasn't expected to say much, only interject sporadically, leaving her with plenty of time to mull over what had just happened.

She was trapped again, not in the same way she was with Malfoy who managed to contain her not only physically but also emotionally, not just with his feelings but even worse with her own emotions surrounding her like an invisible cage, slowly descending on her, easily casting aside any desperate attempt to rid them. But with Harry, she felt helpless, he had somehow found out and knew what was plaguing her. He would bring it up again, and this time in a place where she couldn't be spared by a timely interruption or a lucky disturbance.

But could she trust him with what she was about to tell him? Truth wasn't an issue -- having been on the receiving end of vicious lies and fabricated stories, he knew firsthand the damage, betrayal and misplaced trust and raw anger and pain that could be wrought on the heart. Harry would rather die than betray her trust, but even he wasn't immune to hatred and prejudice -- more so even when it concerned Malfoy.

She knew the battle lines between Harry and Malfoy were far less than those between Malfoy and Ron's. The roots of Ron's enmity with Malfoy lay far deeper, more entrenched in family ties, firmly rooted and steadily branching out over several generations, so old yet so new and raw that Ron was an enemy to Draco in a way that Harry never could be. If there was anyone she could trust to hear her side, evaluate her, and judge her fairly, it would be Harry. Because that was all he had ever wanted; he had never wanted any of the fame that came with the brilliant lightening scar on his head, he'd only wanted to hear the truth, see the truth, and treated as he had treated others -- fairly, honestly, and purely.

Maybe opening up to him would be beneficial, easier to cope with, and hell, open the possibility of forgetting Malfoy. Deep down, she knew, if Harry had been in her position, she would want him to tell her, because as much as she wouldn't be happy with the situation, Harry was first and foremost her best friend, and his happiness and peace of mind and heart meant far too much to her. And she knew, after what he had said in the dungeons, that he felt the same way.

. & .

"Before I tell you anything, promise me you won't tell Ron. " In her voice, not gone unnoticed, was a silent plea of forgiveness and desperation.

They were sitting in front of the fireplace of their quarters, the only place she felt comfortable talking. Harry had stayed true to his word, he hadn't brought up the subject again, only shooting her a knowing look, when he had returned from his Quidditch practice. It only far later that evening, that she had conjured up enough courage to approach him. They were sitting on the sofa opposite the fire, Harry hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees. Hermione sat next to his left side, seated crossed-leg sideways, giving her a clear view of his profile. She could see how torn he was at keeping him in the dark, the shadows from the flames flickering over his face, magnifying the fight going within.

After several moments of tense silence, Harry looked up at Hermione, holding her gaze with his. "I don't like this Hermione, I'll let you know that upfront, I never have been one to keep secrets, I haven't been able to deal with secrecy well, as you do probably remember" he said finally. He paused, still holding her gaze evenly, "But I will promise you, I won't tell Ron anything you tell me tonight."

A look of relief, the emotion Harry had expected considering the magnitude of importance her request held, did not cross her face. She leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, only sighing deeply, her face remaining blank and impassive, her emotions stretched to their furthest point like a spring whose resilience had been tampered with, after being stretched too far, unable to recoil.

"How much does Ron know about this?" she asked apprehensively. Harry could tell she was trying to keep her relationship with Ron working, inspite of all this but after seeing their interactions the last week, even he wasn't so sure they would make it through.

"He doesn't know about Malfoy. I don't think he's suspected anything has to do with Malfoy. But he has noticed something is wrong, and he's worried."

"Has he mentioned any of his suspicions?" she asked timidly, beginning to feel rather shameful at the way she had been acting around him lately.

"Of course he did. He mentioned it once or twice during Quidditch practice over the last couple days. I had my suspicions that it could possibly have to do with Malfoy, but don't worry," he said hastily as a look of horror flittered across her face, " I didn't tell him. But I can't keep making excuses for you, Hermione. It's not fair to him, and he will eventually ask you about it, and I think he's reaching the end of his wire. You know him Hermione, how stubborn and persistent he is, even I won't be able keep him away from asking you about this."

Harry sighed and looked at his hands, rubbing them together. Hermione felt a stab of regret as an expression of betrayal coupled with regret flitted across his face.

"When did this start Hermione? What has happened in the last four weeks with Malfoy? How did you end up here, at this point?" he asked. "I never thought I would ever see this day or be talking to you about Malfoy, I mean, maybe about how much you hate him but never about....wait, do you like him?"

"I don't know what I feel for him. All I know is that, he isn't the same person we thought he was when we first met him. I'm not saying he wasn't downright hideous to you and Ron, and me for that matter, but, there's so much about that doesn't meet the eye --"

"Like what?" said Harry curiously, sitting up a little straighter and turning to face her.

"He's not his father. He wants to be, he's done everything he has done, said everything that he's said, and believed everything that he's believed because he wanted his father to proud of him..."

"That doesn't condone what he's done to us and especially to you the last seven years Hermione. A lot of people want to impress their parents but very few have gone to the lengths he went to."

"I know, Harry, it doesn't justify his behavior, and he admitted he cannot and will never be able to make up for his actions over the past seven years. But there is good in him, there is good in his heart, but it's rusty and unused. But it's there. I've seen it, I've felt it, I've been on the receiving end of it."

"Has he done anything to gain your trust, anything to prove that he's supposedly 'changed'?"

Hermione faltered. She knew he had changed but he still at the same time hadn't done much to show he had really changed….not really. He hadn't renounced his parents, given up the Dark side, yet though he could not longer believe the beliefs they espoused and….there was something so innocent and pure in his actions, something so genuine that he couldn't have made it up even if he wanted to.

"You didn't see him that night," she said slowly, shaking her head slowly. She leaned her head on her hand, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling, "That night we were patrolling, and remember I let you go, it was Malfoy who was out. He..I had never seen him look that way, the look in his eyes, what he said, I've never seen him like that before. I'll never forget it. He said I was 'haunting' him Harry, what I said to him, what I did to him, was haunting. I still remember what he said to me, 'I don't know what to feel, what to think, or how to act.' It was like he was broken, and I was the one who caused it."

"Do you like him?"

"I'm trying so hard, not to. But, I think I fell for him really hard," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears, "I didn't mean to Harry, you have to believe me. It just….happened, it hit me suddenly without any warning. I'm trying so hard to maintain a relationship with Ron, but it's just so hard. I can't be with him for a second before I start feeling guilty, sick, as though I'm cheating on him just by not telling him about this."

"Does he like you back?"

"Yes," she sniffled, swiping at her nose, "He's made it clear to be that he isn't going to let this go."

Harry grimaced, as though he wasn't sure that the fact that Malfoy liked Hermione back was a good or a bad thing.

"I know I said this before but you do need to tell Ron, Hermione, eventually."

"I know," she said, the tears building falling, spilling over onto her pale cheeks. Sniffling, she grabbed a tissue from the box Harry had conjured, "I know I have to tell him. It's the right thing to do, I owe him the truth, not just as his girlfriend, but as his friend. But I can't. He's so happy, so content with what we have. Everytime I feel like I have enough courage to let him know how I feel, he does something that leaves me unable to."

"Is that the only thing preventing you from telling Ron about Malfoy? You don't want to see him angry or hurt. Is that it?"

"No," she said taking a deep breath. "I...If I tell Ron about this, we're done. Forever. Ron is a lot of things, he's kind, genuine, loyal, but even he won't be able to look past this. You don't understand Harry, Draco is an enemy to Ron and Ron to Draco, in a way that you will never be. Their hatred goes back years Harry, stemming from differences in family beliefs, traditions, origins. Though they both may be pure blood, they stand for everything the other stands against. Ron's been brought up to hate the Malfoys' since childhood, you've only hated Draco and his father since you were a teenager."

"The fact is, that the chances of me and Draco even working out are too slim. Ron is a good guy. He's the best boyfriend any girl could want. He's caring, loving, genuine, he's here whenever I need him --"

"But is that enough for you?"

Hermione stopped, caught off guard by his question. He was staring at her seriously, the question burning in his eyes. She swallowed hard.

"Ginny asked us a question a couple days ago in Hogsmeade," she asked slowly. "She asked us if we would rather choose a person we loved but little chance it would work in the long-term, or a person we didn't love but guaranteed to last? Do you remember?" Harry twitched suddenly at the questions, sitting up straighter, slowly nodding 'yes.' "I remember how certain you guys were," a laugh escaping her lips, "but I wasn't. I wanted both longevity and love; when she asked us, I was thrown off balance, and while it unnerved me, it didn't faze me too much because I never thought I'd be in a position where I would be forced to make a choice between the two."

"So you don't just like Malfoy, you love him." His question came out as more of a statement.

"I don't know what 'love' is Harry," she said looking up from where she was staring at the fire. Her eyes were glistening with tears. "I have never understood what 'love' is, and I don't think I ever will. I've heard some people say you love someone if you're completely at ease with them, but I don't buy that because that means, I'd love Ron. I only know one thing Harry, I don't love Ron. Romantically," she added. Harry had straightened up and was looking at her with a look, as though he had known it all the time. "I love him as a friend. I will always love him as a friend, I liked him romantically, but I never loved him."

"Do you love Malfoy?" Harry repeated, this time his statement sounding like a question.

"I don't know." Hermione leaned forward and rested her head on Harry's shoulder. Harry felt the wetness of a tear fall down and hit his arm, sliding down until it slid onto her knee. "There's something about Draco, that makes me feel something Ron has never, forget Ron, no one has made me feel. I've spent hours trying to figure out just what it is about him that has such a huge effect on me. It could be his arrogance, his infuriating self-confidence, the fact that he just will never back down from me, it could be more than one, or none of those. " Hermione sniffled, swiping at her face with her hands, swallowing hard. Harry gently wrapped his arm around her.

"He makes me feel alive." Hermione drew back, breaking the grasp Harry had around her shoulder. Her eyes were glowing, sparkling like jewels in the light of the fire, the first time in a long time, she had looked this happy, at rest. A lone tear fell down her cheek, but she brushed it away.

"Then what is stopping you from choosing Malfoy? Why are you trying to hold on to a relationship with Ron? I still don't understand."

"It goes back to that question. Me and Draco have no future. Me and Ron do. It's not leaving that's the problem, it's who I would be leaving Ron for. Wouldn't it be stupid for me to leave Ron and lose him in my life for someone who there is no chance of it succeeding?"

"What I think doesn't matter Hermione. It's what you think that matters."

"If I was sure that I wouldn't lose Ron, this would be easy," she sighed. "But I will."

Harry didn't try dissuading from that comment. He stayed silent; even he knew Ron would never be able to tolerate it if Hermione left him for Malfoy. Yes, Ron would be hurt and dare he say, even heartbroken if Hermione broke up with him, but for her to leave him for Malfoy would shatter Ron's heart in a way that even time would never be able to heal.

"So what you're saying is that if Ron weren't to leave you, as a friend, whatever, you would go to Malfoy."

"No, it's not even that simple. God," she burst out, punching the sofa next to her, the first signs of the her infamous anger rising to the surface, "Here's how to put it. Draco would have to be on our side. I can't be with someone who supports Voldemort in any way, shape, or form. And that's even a bigger reason than Ron, for my not wanting to pick Draco."

"Merlin, this is complicated. So just let me see if I have this straight," he said, squinting at her, "Basically over the last couple weeks, you and Malfoy have, how should I put it, come closer. And you now like him. He likes you back," a look crossing his face as though it still hadn't registered this was Malfoy they were talking about, "But you don't want to leave Ron for Malfoy because (1) he supports Voldemort and (2) you would lose Ron. But if both those things, however improbable, were to happen, you would choose Malfoy."

Hermione say quietly for a few moments, mulling over his statement; she hadn't really realized how improbable her standards were until Harry had summarize them succinctly. She swallowed hard and breathed deeply, finally muttering, "yes."

"I don't want to sound rude Hermione, or be, a downer," he said hesitantly, "But you do know that… the chances of even one of those things happening, let alone both those things happening is...virtually impossible."

"I know." She leaned back against the sofa, looking defeated, the excitement present in her eyes a moment ago no longer present. "That's why I'm in this predicament."

"It comes down to whether you want to risk it," he said, turning again to face her, his green eyes boring into hers, "You're playing with chance Hermione. You have two options. What you have right now is great, you can either be content with it, or do you want to gamble it for something even better? The only catch is that you never go back to what was great. The downside to staying with what you have right now is that you will always wonder what 'could have' happened, but the upside is that you never will feel the pain you will feel if your gamble does not pay off. It's simple Hermione, it comes down to one thing and one thing only: regret. Will you regret the decision you make? If you regret the decision you make, then it wasn't the right one. And only you know, deep down, what decision in this mess you will regret and which one you won't."

"And I know you well, you will consider me, Ginny, and Ron's feelings when you make this decision," he said hurriedly cutting her off as she opened her mouth to speak, "Ron is important, but I don't want you to. This is a big issue, an important issue, and judging by what I have heard you say the last hour or so and by what I have seen you go through, it comprises a fundamental part of your happiness. And no one, not even your parents, have a say over that. Don't worry about me, because I will be here, regardless of the decision you make."

"What do you think Harry? What would you do?"

Harry laughed softly. "It doesn't matter what I want, what I would do. I can't make the decision for you. Only you can. You know what's best for you, I have only ever wanted what is best for you, but sometimes even I don't know what that is."

Hermione fell silent, staring at the fire, its intensity mirroring the fire within.

"You have talked to Malfoy about this, of course. What did he say?"

Harry gaped at the rising blush in Hermione's cheek and the look of guilt crossing her face. "Wait, you haven't talked to him about this?"

"I didn't know how to," she burst out, twisting the tissue so hard it ripped, "He's wanted to, he's tried so hard to talk to me, but" she faltered, "I'm scared. Scared that everything I think and feel will no longer make sense or seem stupid to him."

"You have to talk to him about this Hermione, because while it makes sense to you, he's in the dark. He doesn't know what you're feeling and thinking. But more than that, it isn't fair to him. You've had a part in what's happened between you guys, regardless of whether it was intentional or not, and you owe that much to him to give him closure. And you never know, that might help you too."

"What do I say to him?"

"Everything you told me tonight. You want to have the feeling after talking with him that you told him everything you had to."

"Ok," she said slightly flustered, standing up and shoving the blanket back onto the sofa, "Ok, so how do I approach it? What format do I use? How many different issues are --"

"Whoa," laughed Harry for the first time all evening, holding his hands up, "Stop. This isn't something you plan beforehand. It's not an essay that you can research for. Yes, you need to know what you say, but it has to come from your heart and you'll soon learn that you can't prepare for these. You have to go with the flow and take everything that happens in its stride."

"But --"

"No buts," he said firmly, "I know, it's scary and hard….you know, sometimes I feel relationships are harder to deal with than Voldemort," he trailed off a hint of a smile on his face, "anyways, you need to take it at its face value. You just have to just take a deep breath and face it."

Slightly deflated, she plopped back on the sofa. "Come on," he joked, lightly poking her in the side, "Where's the determined and unafraid Hermione I've known for seven years."

"Clearly invisible for the last several days," she muttered, cupping her hands in her face.

"This is slightly out of the context," she began timidly, " but how long have you suspected that he had an involvement?" she asked softly, twisting the tissue in her hand, every which way, folding it into distorted shapes.

"I may not be the most observant person Hermione, but even I can notice some things," he said, a hint of smile crossing his face. He rubbed a hand across his face " You know, I'm still not even sure what tipped me off, I guess it'd have to be intuition, gut feeling. I can't explain it any other way. It just seemed odd, bizarre, that a man who went out his own way to make sure we were miserable suddenly stopped. With a guy like Malfoy, it's got to be something big."

He paused briefly, "Then in Transfiguration, Malfoy gave me your book after class and there was this weird expression on his face. I didn't know how to interpret it, he spat something along the lines of how you were too scared to speak to him yourself, but there was something off about the way he had said it. It was as though he was sad he wasn't giving the book personally to you. But it wasn't enough for me to thing something was happening, but then after today..." he trailed off, staring into the fire for a few moments. "There was something different in the way you were interacting, I can't really pin it.." he paused again, looking as though he were trying to collect his thoughts but failing miserably, "It was in your body language. You were fighting with him, that much was clear, but it was something deeper, far deeper than the old name-calling fights you had. And then hell, when you grabbed his collar, I knew something had happened."

Hermione was slightly stunned at his insight at her and Malfoy's actions.

"Do you know what my biggest hint was? They were these," he said softly, touching the skin next to her eyes, winking knowingly. "They showed me everything you couldn't tell me."

Pure sincerity was etched on his face that she almost felt uncomfortable looking at him. Silence fell between them but unlike before, it was calm and clear, as though the previous cobwebs and any lurking skeletons had been found and ridded of. She leaned her head against her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes; she was about finally feel peaceful when the clocks began chiming.

"Oh it's 11," she exclaimed jerking back, "We have duty tonight." Hurriedly, she threw off the blanket and yanked her shoes and cloak on with such alarming speed, that it left Harry feeling dizzy.

"I'll patrol tonight Hermione." He stood up and after kissing her forehead softly put his own shoes and jacket on. "You need rest."

"No, I've already missed it three times," she said, shaking her head. "I can't shirk my duties just because of my own problems. It's not right."

"No," said Harry firmly, He opened the portrait door and stepping outside. "You're in no shape."

"Well, let me at least walk you to the Great Hall." "I could use a walk to clear my head and just….mull over everything we talked about."

"Alright, but just letting you know, if I even catch a glimpse of you behind me, you won't need to worry about having a chat with Malfoy." He winked and smiled, as Hermione playfully punched him as she squeezed past him into the hallway.

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