Here it is, dear readers, chapter 10. I can't say it enough, thank you thank you thank you to everyone who has reviewed, you guys bolster my fragile ego and make we want to continue this story despite feeling like I am in over my head when it comes to the increasingly dramatic plot. Enough of my ramblings, hope you all like it, and as always, please review :)

Draco lay awake in his bed in the dungeons, feeling all together too wonderful and too rotten to even think of sleep. On the one hand, he was elated; Hermione loved him, and he loved her, and that made everything seem right in the world. On the other, even the love of a woman as extraordinary as Hermione Granger did not change the fact that in his world, nothing at all was right.

He tossed and turned relentlessly, achieving nothing but getting his legs hopelessly tangled in the emerald green sheets of his four poster. He had to come up with a plan, some way to get himself out of the disaster that his life had become. More importantly, he needed to figure out how to protect Hermione. Draco was horrified at his foolishness; he had put Hermione in unimaginable danger by telling her of the Dark Lord's plans. Now that she knew the truth, she was in as much peril as he was. He had to find a solution, a way for them to escape the war that they both knew was coming.

Then, Draco was kicking himself. Escape, of course! He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. As much as it pained him to think of it, he knew that the only way to keep Hermione out of harm's way was for them to run away together, to get out of the country, as far from Voldemort as they could go. He knew that Hermione would hate it, but he also knew that there was no other way. She didn't know what the Dark Lord was capable of, not really. Sure she had heard from Potter over the years, and seen him last year in the Department of Mysteries, but Draco had watched him torture and kill wizards guilty of far less than failing to carry out a task as important as the assassination of Voldemort's most powerful enemy. He would just have to convince her that running was the only way, that Voldemort was too strong to face, that they had to run. Gryffindor bravery would not do, it would have to be Slytherin cunning that would save them.

In a very different part of the castle, Hermione was similarly troubled and unable to sleep. In the quiet dark of her dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, everything that had happened in the past few hours finally started to sink in. Her new-found relationship with Draco, his confession, her secret from Ron, her fight with Harry, Draco's fight with Harry – all pounded mercilessly at her subconscious, conflicting emotions threatening to tear her apart. She loved Draco, and wanted more than anything to be with him, but at what cost? There was a very real possibility that she would have to sacrifice her friendships with Harry and Ron, not to mention Ginny and the others, if she and Draco were going to be together. In the Room, everything had seemed so simple; she and Draco seemed to be the only two people in the world. In there, it had been all too easy to say damn the consequences and tell Draco that they would find a way, but now a harsh reality had set in. Hermione Granger, always the clever one with an answer to every question, had no idea what the bloody hell to do.

As much as she hated the thought of keeping more secrets from them, she knew she could never tell Harry and Ron what Draco had revealed to her. They would never understand about her and Draco, they were too protective of her, and too prejudiced against him, his house, and his family. They would never believe that Draco was trapped, and that he wanted no part of any of it, that he was imprisoned by fear and and the desperate desire to save his own life and the life of his mother. No, she would have to go without the support of her two best friends.

A thousand different scenarios played out in Hermione's head, all circling towards the one that she had desperately been hoping to avoid. She wished things were different, but she did not see a way to protect Draco without going to Dumbledore. She knew that Draco would hate it, but she had to make him understand that they couldn't hope to face him alone, that as clever as they both were, they were no match for the Dark Lord and his dark and innumerable resources. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was as kind and powerful a wizard as any who had had ever lived, and with his help and the information that Draco had about Voldemort's plans, they might have a chance at beating him once and for all. Hermione was terrified, but she was still a Gryffindor, she knew she had to stand and fight for what she believed in even if her every instinct told her to run away with Draco and never look back.

Having been awake for hours the night before, by the time sleep finally found her, Hermione was dead tired and slept through breakfast. Groggily, she made her way to the bathroom for a scalding shower, hoping that the hot water would burn away some of the uncertainty that had settled on heart in the past 24 hours. Though the shower did nothing to quell her doubts, she now felt fully awake and slightly more prepared to face the day, trying as it would prove to be.

Dressed in faded jeans and an old Chudley Cannons t-shirt that she had knicked from Ron's dresser at the Burrow and never returned, she padded softly down to the common room, simultaneously relieved and anxious upon seeing that Harry and Ron were the room's only occupants. "Oi, I've been looking for that shirt for months, you bloody thief!", Ron said with mock anger, a lopsided smirk and a mischievous glint in his bright blue eyes betraying his act. Hermione faltered momentarily, mumbling an awkward apology before she looked up and saw Ron's cheeky grin. "Hermione, relax, I'm only joking. Keep the shirt, I've got loads of Cannons stuff, though I might chuck it all the way their Chasers have been playing this year", he said with a chuckle, sharing a knowing glance with Harry.

"Oh, right. Thanks then", Hermione replied, relieved that Ron didn't want his shirt back. As much as she was over him, it was still comforting to have the familiar article of Ron's clothing; it made her feel safe and at home and like herself in a way that none of her own clothes ever did. She settled in between Ron and Harry on the couch, the two scooting to the ends to make room for their friend. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, starting to feel normal for the first time in what felt like a hundred years, nearly forgetting all of her troubles as she fell into easy conversation about classes and all manner of trivial things with her boys.

Then, during a lull in the conversation, Ron cocked his head and said, "You know, I've been meaning to talk to you two about something, but it seems like we haven't all three been together without anyone else to interrupt in a while. The thing is, not that he isn't a slimy little git all the time, and maybe it's just my deep and abiding hatred for the bastard, but it seems like Malfoy has been more of an arrogant prick than usual these past few days, strutting about the castle like a ruddy proud rooster. Why do y'reckon that is?".

Harry and Hermione both coughed and sputtered, choking on the tea that the house elves had put out for them. They both attempted a quick recovery, Harry swallowing hard and Hermione doing her best to nonchalantly fiddle with her teacup, but Ron knew them both too well to buy their act. "Oi you two, out with it! What do you know that you're not telling me?" Harry looked at Hermione pointedly, daring her to try to lie to their friend. Ron's eyes darted quickly between the two, trying desperately to interpret Harry's bold expression and Hermione's frightened one.

" 'Mione, seriously, what the bloody hell is it? You know you'll end up giving in and telling me eventually, so you may as well come out with it." Ron stared at her unblinkingly, the earnest curiosity in his piercing blue eyes nearly causing her to fall to pieces right then and there. She looked up at Harry pitifully. He nodded encouragingly at her as she took a deep breath and steeled herself for Ron's legendary temper.

"Alright Ronald, I do know something about why Draco has been acting differently lately", she began, staring at her feet, completely unwilling and unable to meet the gaze that she could feel burning a hole straight through to her very soul. "Wait a bloody second...Draco? Since sodding when do you refer to that vile little ferret as Draco – Harry, what is all this about?" he demanded of their raven-haired friend. Harry only shrugged noncommittally. "Just let her finish mate", he muttered darkly as he turned back towards Hermione, who chanced a fleeting glance at Ron's confused and frustrated expression before she continued, heart pounding in her chest as guilt filled her up full.

"First of all, please be a gentleman and let me tell you the whole story before you go all barking mad ginger and start cursing and threatening to hex anyone's balls off". Ron could only stand open-mouthed at her, nodding numbly. "Right. Thanks. I appreciate that, and you had better keep your word." Hermione insisted, using her most bossy and commanding tone, though she in no way felt in control of the situation that was unfolding in this familiar place that may as well have been another planet for how out of sorts Hermione was. Ron's brow was now stitched in what seemed to be a permanent look of discomfited bewilderment, but for the moment, he kept quiet. Harry's eyes fixed on him with an anxiety that nearly matched Hermione's, wand not yet in his hand but strategically placed so that he could intervene when Ron inevitably exploded like a blast-ended skrewt.

"So like I was saying, I know something about why Draco has been acting like more of an arrogant prat than usual. You see, Draco and I have been...well erm, I suppose you could say that we're seeing each other." At that last confession, Hermione winced, bracing her mind and body for the worst. True to form, Ron shot up off the couch, sending the tea set and a wizard's chess board flying. For a terrible moment, the only sound in the room was shattering china and ivory clattering noisily over the stone floor, echoing for what seemed an eternity.

Then, in a familiar voice tainted with anger and disdain that made Hermione's stomach churn, Ron bellowed, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? YOU AND MALFOY? I'LL KILL HIM, I SWEAR TO MERLIN!" He paced around the room, fists clenching and unclenching menacingly as his face turned a shade darker red than his fiery hair. "I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS!" His volume lowered slightly, but it was replaced by more malice and disgust than Hermione ever thought Ron was capable of. "He is a Slytherin Hermione, and if Harry is right, and I think he is, he is also a goddamn Death Eater! So again, what the bloody hell are you thinking?"

Hermione, who had up to now been fighting with all of her considerable inner strength to keep her composure, burst into tears. "Ron, I'm so so sorry. Please try to understand. It's not some fling or casual affair. I love him, and he loves me". She met his eyes and saw a flash of tenderness and compassion as he observed the tears streaming down her face before she saw something break behind his eyes. "You lo- what? You love him? How could you, 'Mione? After everything he's done – to you, to me, to Harry for Merlin's sake. After everything between you and I..." Ron's voice trailed off guiltily, knowing that he had admitted something he had never intended Hermione to know.

Grasping at what seemed to be her only chance at an emotion other than hopelessness and guilt, she whirled on Ron with defiance etched onto her pretty features. "Everything between you and I? What the hell does that even mean? We spent a Summer shagging, at the end of which you and I had reached what I thought was an understanding about us being better off as friends. And then you haul off and start dating the first blonde bimbo with big tits who thinks her Won Won is simply brilliant at Quidditch and have been firmly attached to her lips all term. How dare you Ron Weasley? How dare you presume to have any say in who I choose to shag?"

At the word shag all the color drained from Ron's face, leaving him pale as a sheet as he slumped pitifully into a chair. All the venom in his voice was now gone, replaced by despair and hopeless longing. "You sh-...gods Hermione, I don't even know what to say. I mean, after this Summer, I know I said we should just be friends, but I really only said it because that's what you wanted, and I was too bloody proud to tell you that what I really wanted was to be with you. And Lavender, well, I know I'm a right prat for it, but I've just been carrying on with her because it was the only way I could stop from thinking about you every minute of every day. Hermione, I can't...I love you, alright? And I'm sorry about Lavender, but sleeping with Malfoy? We're supposed to be together, you and I, can't you see that?" Ron's breath hitched in his chest at the effort of fighting back tears as he dug his thumb and forefinger into his eyes, savagely wiping away the tears that had begun to form.

Hermione had never felt so lost in her life. She was completely taken aback by Ron's admission, and looked to Harry for any indication of what she should do, but he only stared at Ron with a worried but unsurprised frown on his face. Harry knew Ron felt this way, Hermione lamented. She had been completely unaware of his feelings, thinking that he was just a hormonal teenager and that his feelings for her were simply platonic affection and physical attraction, mirroring the way she felt about him. Now, the truth laid bare in front of her, Hermione's heart shattered with the weight of the pain she caused him.

"Ron, I'm just – I never meant..." Hermione's voice broke, unable to continue for grief and for lack of any words sufficient enough to express how sorry she was, how much regret she felt for making Ron feel this way. She was nearly lost to dark daydreams of Ron's tear-filled eyes when his voice brought her back to the present. "Hermione, don't. There's nothing you can say right now that will fix anything. I just...if it had been Krum, or even bloody McLaggen, I'd have understood. I'd have been angry and moody and pathetic for a while but I'd have gotten over it, but this, Malfoy...I just can't."

Ron hung his head low, drew a deep, ragged breath, and rose slowly, headed for the sixth year boys' dormitory. Hermione moved to follow him, but a stern look from Harry stopped her in her tracks. "Let him go, 'Mione, there's nothing for it but to leave him be for now." He ran his fingers through his hair, bracing his hands on his knees as he stood and walked somberly out of the portrait hole, leaving Hermione alone again, feeling utterly wretched about what had just transpired between her and her two best friends, more bewildered and despondent than ever.

Knowing she could not simply sit in the Common Room and wallow, but not knowing where to go, she rose and simply followed her feet out of Gryffindor Tower, going nowhere in particular until she looked out of a narrow window and spotted a slender blonde figure sitting alone on the nearest shore of the Black Lake. She made her way slowly outside toward Draco, arms drawn tightly to herself to fight off a chill that had little to do with the weather.

So I know the ending of this chapter is rather anti-climactic, but it was getting long so I've decided to break it up. I'll be updating soon, I promise. Please let me know what you think about Harry and Ron in this one, the story has pretty much been Draco and Hermione in their own little world up to this point, and I'm not sure I got Ron's reaction or Harry's response quite right. Cheers and thanks in advance for your feedback.

~ Ms. Mollie