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: First off, as usual I would like to thank those individuals who have taken the time out to not only read/favorite the story/favorite me, but also to spare a few moments to review.

AmatuerAuthor: This is from last chapter but I forgot to address reviews – nope, this is Latin! I don't speak Latin (wish I could) but I find it rather elegant, and the next tattoo I'm getting will actually be a quote in Latin!

Theneonpurple: Thanks so much! Hopefully you bookmarked this since it's a review from an unofficial Fanfiction account – though if you check the story every four days, there is an excellent chance it has been updated.

I'm home: Good question – well Ron's two best mates are the Head Boy and Head Girl so it would make sense for him to know it. I think it'd be pretty darn likely that they would tell the password. I probably should have elaborated as to how Draco got Hermione into the Heads' Dorms, but I don't believe Hermione would have told him, at least not right now, so I will go back and edit this soon to make it clearer!

I have some bad news. Don't worry it's not that bad, I will finish this story, I promise. It is near the end of the wire for the story and because this is the climax I do want it to be spectacular. That being said, I will not be able to update every 3 or 4 days like I have been the last month or so. When I started this story, I was bent upon finishing it and then posting it without the pressure of updating frequently.

However, I found myself lacking a little in motivation and your reviews spurred me to continue. This story is nearly complete, but I want the quality of my writing to be as good as it was for the last nine chapters since those chapters were written before I began posting them up. Therefore the chapters will probably be posted up every five to six days, which I still find to be very reasonable. I have an almost-clear picture of how I want this to end and a lot of it is written but it is a diamond in the rough right now and I want it to be as good as I can make it and be something I am proud of.

Now on with the story…

Chapter XI: Proditio

"Lucunditas of diligo permaneo tamen articulus. Poena of diligo permaneo a saeculorum. "—Pleasure of love lasts but a moment, pain of love lasts a lifetime.

Hermione opened the bottom drawer of her wardrobe, staring at the cloak. The cloak she had lovingly folded into fourths while being careful not to crease it, was now nestled in the bottom drawer of her wardrobe. She knelt next to the drawer, her fingernails slowly skimming over the silky fabric - two tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes, falling silently to moisten the shimmering cloth.

A sharp tap on the window scared her, causing her fall backwards with a painful thud against the closet. It took another several taps before she realized the noise was coming from her window -- Ron's distinct owl stood rather ruffled, his eyebrows cocked inwards as if he were displeased with her at having to wait in the thunderstorm. Hastily unfastening the window's latches and ushering the owl in, she ripped the letter from its leg and unfurled the rain spotted letter - anxiety and nervousness were churning through her.

Hermione, - she could imagine his concerned face, eyebrows cocked upwards, slightly slanted, his forehead furrowed, creased lines forming - Is everything alright? You don't usually do things like this. "I've clearly gotten myself in a lot of things I don't usually do," she muttered darkly. "I got your owl, what's going on? Is everything OK? I'll see you tonight. I love you, Ron.

Love. Her heart dropped. Before what ever little and remaining courage she had left her, she hastily scribbled her affirmation on the opposite side of the parchment and sending Pig back into the thunderstorm, feeling a slight stab of guilt at her treatment of him when he nipped her finger.

"It all comes down to whether you will regret it or not." Harry's words echoed in her head, and for once she had to admit that he had nailed it. It did come down to that one emotion: regret. It'd been a week. It had taken her two more weeks to compose herself and subdue her emotions, though once and a while when she would catch a glimpse of him above the crowd, or in class, the familiar strong lurch of wanting to break down in tears came.

This was a trial by fire. "Distance makes the heart grow fonder." She had heard that when she was a young girl and now she believed in it. And she knew; she knew that if she could still feel for Draco the way she felt for him right now, she was serious about him, and what she felt for him was real. It had been two weeks --- two weeks of – she had no other way to put it – hell.

Draco hadn't touched to her, followed her, or tried to break the pact they had made two weeks ago. He'd speak to her, only in class, when he was forced to ask her for supplies or assigned to work with her in a group assignment. And often times, she just found herself staring at him, her longing to hold and touch him just growing stronger and stronger. The distance from him even though he was oh so close was killing, killing her slowly and painfully inside.

. & .

Draco lay on the black silky satin sheets on his bed, stomach down, staring blankly outside, his grey eyes devoid of emotion and feeling. He was in a trance - not even the claps of thunder and jagged streaks of lightened casting an eeie glow in the sky could jolt him from his stupor. He was stilly fully dressed in his robes, not attentive to the fact that his once pressed and immaculate robes were now visibly twisted and crinkled. Goyle had come in and then walked back out at the sight that lay before him, knowing it would behoove him not to disturb him in this condition. Blaise and Nott had come in after but after a few monotone choice words directed in their direction, they merely left him alone.

That was how he wanted to be. It was as though his mind were separated from his body. His mind was telling him things, lines running through his subconscious like the never-ending stream of rain outside. He was vaguely conscious of them, though unable to feel the emotions associated with him like any normal person would, as though he were oddly detached.

Two weeks of pure, raw torture had slowly passed – each minute felt like it had lasted a million seconds. He had kept his share of the bargain, he didn't speak to her unless it was necessary, see her unless it was in class – and it was killing him.

He didn't know if Hermione had caught his contradictory statements, or if her purpose was to somehow trick him into saying them. But he had caught them, with her last question. She had somehow asked enough questions and somehow cornered him into saying that he could not and never work with the Death Eaters because the risk of him causing her death was too high.

And then that brought up another question. If he could not support the Death Eaters, why didn't he just join the Order? He was sure that the pain he would feel at causing his parents remorse and hurt for betraying them and Voldemort would be less than that if he had a part however small in hurting her....but he didn't want to verify that. That position was one he could not and flatly refused to be in. He wasn't sure if he could forgive himself if he went against what he wanted.

It had only been a week and like any normal person, he was consumed by his decision and constantly choosing one side and then the other. In one moment, one option looked promising, an outlet providing a bright future but in the very next moment, its luster and shine vanishing like the gold on a fake jewel, slowly but surely chipping, leaving the dull, bland metal behind.

Last night he had been sure, he was going to become a spy for the Order and had even reached the doors of Professor Snape's chambers before a chill overtook him, and he had turned and swiftly walked back, his body trembling from the sheer realization of the significant and importance his decision had on him and his life. His problem was he was trying to find a solution where no one could be hurt, where both he and Hermione as well as his parents could walk out unscathed - he couldn't. Him and Hermione and his parents.

Was siding with them more important that siding with something that was right? For just as he had been wrong, so were his parents just as wrong for supporting Voldemort all these years. It was up to him to break the vicious cycle but...would he be able to forgive himself for betraying his parents? Would it be selfish of him to - for once, he reminded himself - choose what he felt to be right over what was expected as he had been accustomed to doing all these years?

His gray eyes gazed out into the stormy sky, staring into the darkening sky, as a single teardrop fell silently from his eye, clinging momentarily to his long lashes, before splashing onto the soft satin, disappearing into the black fabric, leaving no trace.

. & .

Hermione paced nervously in front of the boys dormitories inside the Gryffindor Tower, waiting for Ron to come. Her stomach was churning nervously, feeling as though the meager morsels she had had for dinner would show themselves any moment. Finally, she just took a seat on the steps, and leaned her head against the wall, taking slow, steady deep breaths, willing each breath to bring power to her. But just like when she was awake, when she was trying to rest, this situation wouldn't release its claws.

"This may seem out of line and you are under no obligation to answer it, but did something....something physical….happen between you and Malfoy?" His voice was laced with dread as though he didn't want to know the answer, knowing how much pain it would put him through though he himself was not Ron. But she knew that the bond between them intertwined so delicately so complicated that in Ron's smallest amount of pain and sadness, it caused Harry to feel those emotions in their entirety, each raw emotion penetrating his soul and mind as though he were the one affected.

His shoulders sagged downward. He didn't need her answer, he could see it. Her eyes had widened in shock and fear and her whole body had tensed up before she collapsed against the fireplace.

"I want to ask for his forgiveness," she said finally, her voice shaking, tears beginning to roll again down her face,"But forgiveness is only asked for mistakes. Harry, what's the punishment for selfishness?"

With that she knelt before him on her haunches where he sat on the sofa. She bowed her head in front of him, her hair falling around her face like a curtain, sheltering herself from the storm of emotions that were passing through his face. Her head hung loosely, as though she were a mere pupil, waiting with bated breath for the instructor's punishment.

"I'm your friend Hermione," he said, smiling sadly lifting her head up so he was looking her in the eyes, "I can't punish, I can only give advice. Leave Ron."

As a strangled noise of what appeared to be a sob and a shocked gasp all in one left her mouth, she jerked slightly back, her eyes wide, as if lightening had struck her, igniting her every cell.

"You don't love him. By staying with him, you're preventing him from finding his love....and yourself too. I don't blame you, Hermione...love and death, both are uninvited guests. You can have no control over them."

After mentioning to Draco she would probably end her relationship with Ron, her talk with Harry confirmed it. Deep down she had always known she needed to end this, and Harry's words had only set it in stone and given that need shove to act on it.

And that's why she was here.

Wearily, she opened her eyes, starting slightly when she saw Ron sitting across from her, leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees, a small smile on his face.

"Ron," she gasped, slightly out of trepidation, slightly out of shock, "Why didn't you tell me you were here?"

"You looked really peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you," he said simply, jumping up, and then pulling her up.

Holding her close to him, he tilted her head up so as to kiss her, but she twisted her head slightly away in his grasp, quickly scanning the Gryffindor common room. Ron frowned slightly, but didn't comment as she turned around and walked further into the room searching for a stretch of room allowing them to talk privately.

"What's going on Hermione," he said, walking up behind her, "Who are you looking for?"

"Just for some privacy," she mumbled softly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear that?"

"Sorry. Um….it's too crowded here," she muttered more to herself than him before turning sharply to Ron, forcing herself to not just run out of the portrait door that was tantalizingly standing in front of her, "is there anyone in your dorm?"

"No...." he replied slowly, slightly unsure of where this was going, "Neville's out with Luna and Dean and Seamus are playing Exploding Snap out here…or at least they were," he corrected himself, as he saw no sight of the two boys in the common room. "They might be upstairs now – I just got back from seeing ---"

"Can we check and see if they aren't there?"

"Sure," he said, still in the same confused and slow voice, "Wait," he said suddenly, putting a hand on her shoulder, halting her from moving, "What's going on Hermione? What is this all about?"

"I'll let you know when we get there," she said, praying that he would just follow her lead, moving fast behind him and up the room.

Ron stayed behind her for a moment, just staring at her, an odd expression on his face, watching her run up the stairs as though she needed to out as much distance between them as possible. He had a vague idea of where this was going, an explanation of why she had been acting so strange, but he was praying he was wrong. He had noticed her aloofness, her sudden reclusive behavior, but he had been unable to pin it anything specific – of course he had asked Harry about it, but he had been unhelpful, though for some odd reason, he had a feeling that he couldn't pinpoint, but it felt as though Harry wasn't being entirely truthful or holding something small, yet so fundamental from him.

He hadn't been able to spend as much time with her since the project had been assigned. Their already limited time had been cut even shorter with that epic Quidditch final. It was then he began noticing her changed behavior. At first he had thought she were simply angry at his negligence of their relationship. He knew sometimes he took her for granted, and if that were the case - and he was praying that's all it was - he would anything to make it up to her.

Pushing open the door, to her delight and trepidation, she found that the room was in fact empty. As usual, Neville's side was spotless and well-kept, while the other three boys' belongings were strewn across the room and the hardwood floor. So pre-occupied was she that all of this escaped her eye as she walked in, shoving several of Ron's robes into a corner of the bed, before beginning to fold them neatly.

Behind her, she heard Ron shut the door, the feeling of nervousness multiplying tenfold in her stomach, as she folded Ron's robe, even faster, cursing silently to herself as she realized she had folded it diagonally.

"Well," he said, walking up to her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

Hermione gasped as she yanked the fabric at his touch, causing the material to rip under her touch.

"I'm sorry Ron," she wailed slightly, turning around to face him holding up the now ripped robe.

Ron looked bemused at the look of sorrow on her face. "Hermione," he said gently, taking the garment from her, his smile vanishing as she could see several tears forming in her eyes – pulling out his wand, he muttered a spell, before holding it out, the offending tear now flawless, "It's fine," he said softly, tossing the robe to the side, and gently pulling her into his arms, resting his head on hers. He frowned as he felt her body shake against him, harder and harder, though he could tell she was trying to suppress them.

Hermione gave up, letting her suppressed tears fall even harder, unable to stop her body from shaking, from the sheer guilt and helplessness she felt at that moment. Ron's sweet gestures were doing nothing to stop the guilt that was tearing at her heart. She could feel Ron gently smoothing her hair, and rubbing her back comfortingly. After a couple moments, she took a couple deep breaths, steadying herself.

"Sorry," she laughed thickly, wiping the few remaining tears from her cheeks, " I don't know what came over me."

"Don't be sorry," he said gently, reaching down and wiping her cheeks, "Come, sit."

Still sniffling slightly, she seated herself in the middle of his bed, as Ron sat directly across from her. Playing with a tissue in her hand, she stared down at her hands, unable to look him directly in the eye.

"Talk to me," he said softly, reaching out and grasping her hand gently, "Are you ok? It's hurting me to see you like this."

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat, for some reason simply unable to bring the words from her heart to her mouth.

"Ron..I.." she started, feeling him shift in acknowledgement, feeling his gaze on her, "we – I," she signed burying her face in her hands, "Ron…I owe you an apology for the way I have been acting the last couple days. I've had a lot on my mind and I think I acted wrongly in taking it out on us."

"You don't need to be sorry," he smiled, rubbing her arm, "I'm sorry too, I didn't pay as much attention to you as I should have before Quidditch."

"No, no, Quidditch is fine, and this only comes once a year," she said vehemently, "There is no reason to be sorry for that."

"Quidditch doesn't come before you Hermione." The sincerity in his voice brought more tears to her eyes, as she bent her head forward, trying to shield herself from his curious gaze.

"What's been bothering you?" he asked, when she didn't respond, the same feelings of uneasiness and uncertainty rising. "Please say something," he pleaded.

"I need to say something before I can't," she said swiftly and in one breath, looking up at him, completely disregarding his question. She needed to get this out before too much time passed, because the more time passed, the higher the chance of her not breaking up with him and giving in to the very, very small doubt that remained. Ron's sweet behavior was becoming harder and harder to overcome.

He nodded dumbly, swallowing hard, somehow knowing where was going but praying he was incorrect.

"Ron—" her voice slightly breaking, "Look, I didn't want this to happen. It's not you…it's me. You're an amazing man, any girl would be lucky to have you -- "

"You're breaking up with me," he interrupted, his question coming out as more of a statement. Her words could only mean one thing and her ensuing silence told him everything he needed to know.

"Why?" he asked simply, his voice twisted with pain, as he hesitantly reached out to touch her hand.

The look in his eyes brought on another wave of tears.

"Ron…I"

"Was it because I wasn't putting as paying as much attention to you?" he asked desperately, now gripping her hand rather painfully, just unable to accept that it was really over, not now, not yet, "Because I'd do anything to make up for that Hermione, I'd do anything. Just give me another chance."

"It's not that…" she said meeting his gaze with her own tear-filled eyes.

"Then what is it? What did I do? What happened?"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's not you Ron. Believe me, it's not you."

"Then what went wrong? Why are you breaking up with me?"

Hermione swallowed hard, knowing just why she was ending this, knowing just how much pain those words would inflict. And once she said them, she could never ever taken them back. "Because I don't love you." Even as softly as she said those words, they were loud enough to hear.

At those words, it was though his heart had shattered into a million pieces. It was as though he had ceased to exist, his spirit somehow disconnected with his body. At those words, something small inside him, yet so deeply entrenched and imbedded in his mind and soul had been broken irreparably, leaving behind a gaping and hollow wound.

"I'm sorry Ron. I really am."

Nodding numbly to himself and swallowing hard, he let go of her hand, letting it fall on the bed before slowly climbed off the bed and walking to the door to the balcony as if in a trance, and out into the balcony. He stood there, staring distantly into the night sky, his hands clenches tightly around the moist metal railing of the ledge. Blinking rapidly, he tried to hold back the flood of emotions that was begging to come coursing down his cheeks. It took every ounce of pride and courage to not collapse against the railing in a heap.

Hermione buried her face in her hands, unsure of just what to do, what to say. What could she say? From where she sat, she could no longer see him – all she saw was the door to the balcony swinging lightly in the wind, bringing in the scent of rain.

She had known Ron wasn't going to take this lightly but it was only now that she understood the magnitude of his love for her, and if she had though the guilt she had felt before was unbearable, it was nothing compared to what she was feeling right now. The pain she had imagined he would feel was nothing the pain his eyes and face had shown – and knowing she was the one who had put those tears in his eyes was stifling her. She had to see him, had to finish talking to him, because she couldn't leave him out there by himself, leaving him to fend for himself and deal with the pain she had caused.

"Ron," she said hoarsely, unsure of just mood he would be in. He was just standing there, staring out into the stars, giving her an unpleasant jolt as she remembered her own position on another balcony just weeks ago.

He said nothing, his back still turned to her. Hesitantly, she took a small step forward, shivering as the chilly wind hit her. She let out a small squeak as she slipped a little on the wet pavement.

Hearing her squeak, he turned around quickly and walked several steps towards her, before stopping abruptly when he saw she was okay. An awkward silence settled between them, both of them knowing just what had happened.

In that very moment Hermione somehow knew that he had completely forgotten about what had just happened, and for the first time all night, felt that maybe she had a chance to get through to him. But the feeling vanished as quickly as it came as the same look of veiled resignation and anger settled over his face again and walked back to the balcony.

"Can we at least talk about this?" she pleaded, knowing he wanted to her to go but she unable to leave. She couldn't, she wouldn't leave him alone in this state, and not without the closure she needed from him. She couldn't leave until he knew that she still cared for him.

"There is nothing for us to talk about," he said icily.

"Please Ron, don't be like this," she whispered, feeling tears pricking her eyes yet again.

"What do you want me to be like," he laughed bitterly, "Do you want me to be happy?"

"Ron…"

"How long have you felt this way?"

She swallowed hard, praying Ron wouldn't connect the timing with Draco. "About three weeks."

"Three weeks?" He was stunned. "Three weeks? And you're telling me this now?"

"I wasn't sure," she whispered, tears pricking her eyes.

"Sure about what?"

"Sure that I didn't like you anymore," she whispered, "I thought it might just be a phase I was going through."

"What made you realize that this wasn't some bloody….phase?" he spat.

"Last night." She had no intention of saying that it had been Harry that had finally given her the extra push – the anger and betrayal Ron would have felt at that moment would be incomprehensible. Bringing Harry into this situation would be no good – Ron was in no position to realize that Harry had no fault in this manner. But knowing Ron's brash and hotheaded mood, the chances of him placing some blame on Harry was extremely high. And at this a moment, Ron's temper was not a risk she even wanted to flirt with.

"Should I even ask how you came to that decision?" he laughed hollowly, the harsh and discordant sound echoing in the night sky.

"Three weeks is far too much time to feel the way I was feeling," she said reluctant to mention that Draco and the extent to which she had become emotionally involved with him had made her realize she could no longer stay with him.

"And how were you feeling," he spat, still facing the night sky. Hermione could hear the slight tremble in his voice, knowing he was doing everything he could to stay strong. "What horrible feelings were I making you go through?"

"Ron, please stop being this way," she said desperately, trying to keep any sign of irritation from creeping into her voice. Even despite herself, Ron's behavior was beginning to graze slightly on her nerves. It was only her own knowledge that Ron was hurting that was keeping her from snapping at him. But if this continued, even she would lose her cool – as much as she wanted to be empathetic towards him, she could not and would not let him walk over her. "Believe me, if I had a choice I wouldn't have chosen this. I tried to keep our relationship strong, but I couldn't keep it going. I tried the hardest I could Ron, and that's the most anyone can do."

Hermione's words seemed to abate his anger slightly – his shoulders relaxed a little, his head drooping a little lower. He took a deep breath in, before burying his face in his hands and letting out a loud yell.

"But what happened? Did you just stop caring for me –"

"I still care for you – I always will," she said, not knowing what more she could do to make Ron realize that how much this was hurting her as well. In this moment, she didn't know what he felt, what he was thinking…and a part of her felt that she might have lost him forever. "But I stopped liking you romantically."

"Why? I mean, is there someone else?" he asked, ignoring her sentimental statement. "I want the truth," he said turning around from the ledge for the first time this evening, "You owe me that much." When she looked into his eyes, she saw just how much fear for her answer that they contained.

"I'm not doing this because I want to be with someone else." She wasn't lying – not really. Whether or not she and Draco ended up together, there was no way she and Ron could be together. And like she had not mentioned to him she had spoken about this with Harry, it would have to be a freezing day in hell before she mentioned Draco. Speaking of hell, if she did mention Draco, all hell would break loose. Her already slim hope of him understanding would become essentially non-existent. "It just happened Ron – when, why I don't know. It just happened. I don't know what more I can tell you, except that you had no part in it."

"So you're sure there is absolutely no chance for us," he asked again, looking at her desperately. "Just think about it once more, Hermione. "

"No, Ron, I'm sorry," she whispered yet again. "I'm sorry."

At those words, he felt something so fundamental inside him shatter, a foundation so innate and inherent splinter into a million pieces; he had never felt as helpless since second year when Harry had left him to shift the stone wall, leaving him alone to only imagine what horrible outcomes could be happening with Ginny. That had been the most painful and trying time of his life, sitting helplessly in the dark, not knowing just what was going on, and his inability to do nothing about it. Just like then, right now, he had no power and it was only now that he realized he was once again in the dark, standing helplessly, unable to anything about her decision.

Without another word, he just nodded at her, looking at her with crushed eyes, eyes once alight with mirth and love but now filled with anguish and torture, rendered delicate in the wave of helplessness, shadowed in a sea of agony.

"I think you should leave now," he said, eerily calm, turning around.

"Talk to me Ron."

"I have nothing to say," he said curtly, his voice clipped.

"Just go Hermione," he said louder than before. "JUST LEAVE," he yelled when he saw her take another step in closer from the corner of his eye. "GO."

Hermione stood there for a moment, praying he would change his mind, but when he stood there defiantly, back still turned to her, there was nothing she could do but turn around and walk out, each step driving a dagger deeper and deeper into her heart.

As he heard her footsteps recede, the noise becoming fainter and fainter as the distance between them grew until all he could hear was the beating of his broken heart, all he could feel was the shaking of his shoulders, and all he could see were the tears that were blurring his eyes, cascading down his cheeks in endless torrents.

How do I say goodbye to someone I never really had? Why do my tears fall so endlessly for someone who was never really mine? Why is it I miss someone I was never really with? And why do I love someone whose love was never really mine?

. & .

Hermione didn't turn around when the portrait door behind her shut. She knew it was Harry, and she also knew where he had just come from. For some unknown reason, she couldn't get herself to face him, feeling a weird sensation of shame overpowering her as she realized Harry had just witnessed the pain Ron was enduring.

Harry sighed as he entered the Head Tower after dropping a rather drunk Ron back at the Gryffindor Tower, making sure that Neville and Dean would take good care of him. Because their break-up was only a couple hours old, not that many knew about it, though he was sure by the morning, the whole castle would know of the terminated relationship. His heart dropped when he caught sight of Hermione sitting cross-legged on the sofa. She looked lost, the light from the embers casting a glow on her blotchy cheeks. He knew she had been crying all evening.

As much as he knew Ron was hurting – and he had seen the extent of his anger and pain this evening, he also knew her heart was hurting just as bad. Ron couldn't see it right now, just as Harry expected, even though he knew Ron had truly loved Hermione. His temper and passion was making him blind to her plight, though he knew he would eventually come around.

He wasn't expecting them to go back to the relationship they had had their first six years here at Hogwarts – it was impossible, but he could and would in no way fault them for the changing relationship they shared. He'd seen them grow and blossom in their relationship, and he knew he would not be in a position where he would be forced to choose one or the other.

"Still up?" he said softly, coming around the sofa and taking a seat next to her, shivering slightly as the heat from the now dying fire hit him. The room was warm and cozy, though Hermione felt none of the heat transferred to her.

"Couldn't sleep," she answered hollowly, still not taking her eyes off the glowing embers.

"He'll be okay you know," Harry said softly, answering the question she hadn't asked though he knew was burning inside her, hanging unsaid between them.

"He must hate me right now," she said rather forlornly.

"No, he doesn't. Upset, yes, hurt, definitely, but he can never hate you," he said firmly.

"You didn't see him Harry," she laughed bitterly, "You didn't see what I did to him."

"He's strong. Stronger than you give him credit for."

"What did he say? Was he angry?"

"Look, Hermione, try and look at it from his point of view. He loved you, he really did love you – and he thought you loved him too. And it crushed him when you didn't. He's angry right now, yes, a little bit at you, and hurt. But give him some time. Time will help heal his pain."

"He still wasn't blaming himself right? I tried so hard – I said it repeatedly that it wasn't his fault, and I meant it," she whispered, trying hard not to cry again, "He didn't do anything wrong – everything he did was right, and it was my fault this happened."

"It's only been a couple hours since it happened – he isn't in that phase where he can step back and look at the situation objectively. He's way too emotionally in there. He knows you didn't mean for this to happen, he knows you're hurting too, he knows you tried your hardest but he's so emotional right now, that he just can't see it. It's none of your guys' fault. No one is at fault," Harry said, trying his hardest to make her see reason. "You have to listen to me Hermione, I know how to evaluate this objectively – you guys can't. Not right now."

"You're right," she sniffled, clasping Harry's hand in hers. "You're right. He'll see it soon too right?"

"He will," he reassured her, squeezing her hand tightly, "But don't count on him realizing it as fast as you."

"Yeah," she laughed thickly.

"Do you –" he started hesitantly, "Do you want to maybe talk to Ginny about this?"

"Ginny?" she asked, her eyes widening, sitting up straight as though someone had passed a shock through her. "Ginny? Harry, have you gone completely barmy? That's Ron's sister – she's probably furious with me."

"No," he said, shaking his head, "No. Well, maybe you shouldn't mention Malfoy's part in this mess. You haven't understood her fully. I'm not Ginny's first boyfriend – her last yes," winked Harry cheekily before becoming serious again, "but she is sensible. She's strong, impartial, and logical. She may have the hot-headed temper of her brothers but she's also systematic and level-headed." He paused for a brief moment. "I get it – its awkward talking to your exes' sister about him, but she might also be able to get through to Ron."

"Maybe later – but I can't right now."

Harry nodded understandingly before pulling her in for a hug.

Hermione sighed as she found her enveloped in Harry's strong arms. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and shoulder, breathing deeply trying to relax herself. It felt nice hugging him – it'd been so long she'd gotten a hug and it just felt so good – there was no other way she could put it. She remember when she used to come home from school after a bad day and her mom would give her a hug and tell her things would be okay in the end, and Harry's hug made her feel the same way.

"You're strong – you've been through worse," he whispered, "Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise."

She didn't say anything – she didn't have too. Harry knew how much that comment meant to her. Knowing that everything would work itself out in the end made it immeasurably easier to get through the hell he knew she was going through.

"Where did you go?" she asked softly after a few brief moments of silence.

"We went to Hogsmeade," he said heavily, "He was bent upon going to a pub – I couldn't stop him. And no, don't blame yourself," he said sharply, when he felt her stiffen noticeably against his shoulder.

"How long were you there?"

"About an hour. You sure did manage to pick good timing – a night when the Prefects got patrol duty." Hermione laughed slightly at his slight attempt at humor.

"What did he say?"

"Frankly, after the first four drinks, he became a little hard to understand. But, " he said rubbing his forehead tiredly, "he basically just was asking why this had to end. Not wondering why or how it ended, more just upset it had ended. And he did ask if you left him for someone else." At those words, Hermione sat up straight

"And…" she said apprehensively, "And what did you tell him?"

"I said I didn't know but I doubt that was why you broke up with him."

"I couldn't tell him about Draco."

"You'll have to tell him eventually."

"If we end up together. If not, there is no point in Ron knowing about his part in the matter."

"That is rather deceitful Hermione," he said a little sternly.

"There are some things that are better kept secret Harry," she whispered brokenly. "Ignorance is bliss. I can't bring myself to hurt Ron anymore than I have Harry. I can't."

"What will you do if you do end up with Malfoy? You can hardly keep that secret."

"Then he'll have to know – but he won't know we started liking each other while I was with him."

Harry swallowed hard, unsure if he should bring up what Ron had said while he was with him in Hogsmeade. Yes, Ron had been rather sloshed when he had said those things, but Harry knew better, and that Ron's actual feelings were revealed when he had a certain amount of alcohol in him though he was praying Ron's anger and hurt were speaking, not him.

"Has she said anything about another bloke," he slurred, downing another shot of liquor. "I asked her, but she said no. Has she ever said," wincing slightly, "anything to you about another guy?"

"Would it matter if she likes another guy?"

"Yes," he huffed slamming the glass down so hard it shattered, "Fuck," he swore as a drop of blood ran down the length of his finger before falling onto the table.

"She can't not date someone else ever again Ron. You can't realistically expect that – just like you'll date someone else later."

"I know," he admitted begrudgingly, idly examining a piece of broken glass. "It just hurts, and I'll be fine. But that doesn't mean she can date just anyone and everyone."

"Like….Malfoy?"

"Malfoy," he spat venomously, slamming his fist down on the table, causing the glass laying on the table to suddenly jump into the air an inch or two. "Malfoy is everything I've hated. No," he looked up straight into Harry's eyes, "If Hermione dated Malfoy, she would have to pick. Me or him. Simple as that. Malfoy cannot have the one person I have loved. Though, " he laughed, a rather crazy expression in his eyes, "Like she would ever fall for that prick."

"You don't mean that. You're angry right now, you don't know what you're saying."

Ron growled and tossed several empty candy wrappers on the floor next to him. "She'll have to make a decision, and if she chooses that ruddy bastard, I want nothing to do with her. Tell her that," as he lifted a finger directly into Harry's eyes before swallowing another shot of firewhisky.

"I won't lose him right?" For the first time, Hermione looked up at Harry, and it was then that Harry realized just how much Ron meant to her, and how much it had it had hurt her to let him go. The pain shining in her eyes was the same if not more than the hurt he had seen glistening in Ron's eyes the last two hours.

"No," and he meant it. Ron cared too much for Hermione to let her go, just as Hermione did for Ron. He knew at the end of the day, while Ron would not be able to move past this just yet, he'd heal.

He also felt deep down that when Ron had said he would want nothing to do with her if she chose Malfoy it had been his anger and hurt talking. When push came to shove, Harry knew Ron would realize just how much he valued her friendship and was praying Malfoy would not be the reason for their severed relationship.

"I'm sorry Harry," she said suddenly. "I didn't think about how this would affect you. I know we've put you in an awkward position, an uncomfortable position, and we should have thought about this before any of this ever happened."

"I'm not in a position where I have to choose one of you two. It does hurt to see this, because I know we can't go to how we were before this happened, but every relationship changes as time goes on and you can only adapt."

Pushing tears back yet again, Hermione lay her head back down on Harry's shoulder; it suddenly occurred to her, just how badly she wanted Draco's arms around her at that moment and just how big and aching the gaping hole in her heart that his disappearance had left behind really was.

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