Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Draco, Hermione and all other Harry Potter affiliated things you recognize belong to the talented JK Rowling and the title is the title of a poem by Robert Frost. Anything you recognize that doesn't fit under the term Harry Potter affiliated belongs to its respective owners. It was not my intention not to give proper due to those who deserve it.

January 2nd

Harry and Ron arrived back today. I avoided them most of the day, locking myself away in the common room with Draco. I knew that I would have to face them eventually; I didn't want to hide this from them forever. But I was so scared of how they'd react. What would they do to Draco? I knew that they would be angry but would they really want…blood? It was such a barbaric idea. Surely they would see past that…right?

"You're going to have to tell them, love," Draco told me, his hand tracing an odd pattern of swirls across the bare skin of my arm.

"Can't we just keep it a secret," I said though I knew that it wasn't possible. "No one will ever have to know."

"I know that you don't really want that. It'd tear you to shreds."

I shifted to look up at him from where my head was lying on his thigh. I've recently found that this is one of my most favorite positions—lying on the couch with my head in his lap and his elegant hands tracing his hypnotic designs on my skin or combing gently through my hair. "If it'd keep them from beating you within an inch of your life…"

I let the rest of my sentence fade. He knew I was scared for him. I'd seen Harry and Ron take on Voldemort and Death Eaters; I knew what they were capable of. If they thought that Draco posed any danger to me whatsoever, they would not hesitate to "make him go away". And if I told them about Draco, they would immediately assume foul play. What if I couldn't get them convinced that I really loved him.

"Stop worrying," he soothed. "I can take care of myself."

"I know, it's just—"

There was an abrupt knocking at the entrance to the common room. "Hermione? It's me. Can I come in?"

Harry! It was Harry! What was I going to do now?

I instantly sat up and began looking around for places to hide. "I know you're in there, Hermione."

"What are we going to do, Draco," I whispered turning to look at him. I was slightly taken aback by his calm appearance. There was a smirk inching its way across this face and he had propped his feet on the coffee table. "Well?"

"Relax, Hermione," he replied coolly. "I'll just act like my old arrogant self and then disappear into my room because I can't stand to be in the same room as you and Potty. They still think I hate you, remember?"

I have to admit: I doubted this plan. But I couldn't come up with anything short of ignoring Harry and that obviously wouldn't help my cause. So, with a quick peck on his cheek and a brave smile, I whispered, "Lock the door behind you. I don't know just how well he's going to take this."

He nodded, trademark smirk now firmly in place, and watched me go to the portrait hole.

I swung it open, thinking of how best to break the news to Harry. "Sorry about that, Harry. I didn't hear you."

"It's all right," he replied, stepping through the entrance.

"Well," I said trying to hide my nervousness as I led the way back to the couch. Draco didn't look up from his book even when Harry sat down in one of the armchairs. "What brings you by?"

"I'd like to talk to you"—he looked pointedly at Draco—"privately, I think."

Draco flipped the page nonchalantly and, without pausing in his reading, replied, "Then you can leave, Potter, and take her with you."

Ah, my cue. "This is my common room, too. You have no right to order me about."

For me, he lowered the book and glared at me. If I hadn't seen the merry glint in his silver eyes, I would've thought that he was truly angry with me. "Granger, I—"

"Mister Malfoy, sir?" As one, our heads jerked to where a house elf had just appeared with a quiet pop. Not waiting for a reply, he squeaked, "The Headmaster says you're needed on the third floor. The Headmaster says to tell you it will only take a minute. He says something about a group of returning first years and Peeves."

Without waiting for a reply, the elf snapped his fingers and disappeared with the same pop that announced his arrival.

"Well, I guess you'll have to leave, Malfoy. Damn shame really," Harry said sarcastically. "I thought that we were making so much progress."

Draco sneered and stood, setting his book on the end table. "This isn't over, Granger."

With that, he strode from the room with an elegant grace that I had to stop myself from marveling at. It wouldn't do to reveal that change until he was safely out the door.

As soon as the door was shut behind Draco Harry turned from his study of the fire. "Something's changed, Hermione," he said quietly. "Something about you…and Malfoy."

The first thought that flew through my mind was that he knew. He knew about Draco and I and he wanted to talk me out of it. But I couldn't assume and give something away so I replied coolly, "What would that be Harry?"

He smiled oddly. "He's different around you. I don't know if I like it or not."

There was still hope that I could keep Harry from killing Draco through all this. If he'd had all holiday to come to terms with it—

"I don't like it," he interrupted firmly with a resolute nod of his head. "I think he's trouble, Hermione. He could be up to something. Doing dirty work for Voldemort perhaps."

So much for Harry accepting it.

"Harry," I started slowly, gauging his reaction. "He's not like that. He's different—"

"How do you know that," Harry inquired, plainly outraged at such a notion and causing me to shrink further back against the cushions of my chair. "How can you trust him?"

"I-I just do," I stuttered. "I can't explain it, Harry. You haven't seen him the way I have. It's—he's not at all like what we've always thought."

There was a silence as Harry stared at me in disbelief. All these years with Harry has made it easy for me to read him. But right then, for the life of me, I couldn't see past the look of shock and betrayal engraved upon his usually placid features.

"What's he done to you," Harry whispered, lowering himself to the coffee table and taking my hands in his. "Is he blackmailing you? Did he curse you? You can tell me, Hermione. Me and Ron, we'll stop him."

I shook my head. "No, Harry. He's not doing anything like that."

"Is it something else then?" He stood up in frustration and began to pace in front of the hearth. "He's done something. I know it."

"He has done something." I smiled ruefully. It wasn't what he thought but Draco had done something to me. He told me that he loved me. From then on, it had been an uphill battle to not return those feelings—not that I was fighting very hard. "He's made me fall in love with him, Harry."

He stalled in his pacing and turned slowly on his heel, facing me. "You—but—you don't mean that. You can't. You're meant to be with Ron. He's meant to beg your forgiveness and you're supposed to give it to him. It'll go back to the way things were before he cheat…"

I had stopped really listening to Harry's ramblings because I knew that these desires of his would never happen. But he'd started to say something about Ron and I was suddenly very attentive to it. "Ron did what? He cheated on me? When? With who?"

I was livid. Here I had been feeling so guilty for even having thoughts about another man and he had full out cheated on me. Probably out shagging her senseless even as Harry was here pleading his cause. How dare he?

"Harry," I asked, careful to keep my voice from shaking with rage. "How long have you known?

Harry was staring at me, eyes wide. He knew that he had let something slip that he shouldn't have and there was no going back. "Hermione…I'm sorry." He sat down on the coffee table again. "I tried to stop him; really I did. I told him that it was wrong, that you didn't deserve that but…Hermione, he was so…frustrated."

I didn't have to ask what that meant. Ron had been trying to get in my pants for months. It would make sense that he would go get it somewhere else if he couldn't get it from me. I just didn't want to believe it. "How long, Harry?"

He sighed and dropped his face into his hands. "Since the beginning of December."

Almost a month. "Then I suppose he rather liked having me as an excuse to end it, eh? And he called me a whore. What a hypocrite."

"Hermione," Harry said softly. I looked up at him, blinking back the tears. My friend, the only third of the Golden Trio I still had on my side. "He's sorry. He wants you back."

Or maybe not.

"He doesn't deserve her."

Harry spun around as my head jerked up at the new voice entering our conversation. Draco was standing just within the entrance of the common room. And he wasn't happy.

"Get out, Potter," he snarled, his lip curling in disgust.

"You can't order me about," Harry spat, standing up in his defense. "I'm Hermione's guest."

I laid a hand gently on his arm. "Harry"—he looked down at me—"perhaps it's best if you left." The same look of betrayal and shock crossed his face as when I told him that Draco was different. But I wasn't concerned for his feelings anymore. He had been trying to tell me that Ron was sorry. He had been apologizing for him. Ron probably didn't even know Harry was here. "I—I just need some time so…please?"

Harry shook his head before replying in wonder, "I don't even know you anymore, Hermione." With that, he turned and walked out of the room.

Draco's eyes followed him until the portrait had swung closed and then he was on his knees in front of me, my shaking hands captured in his. His brow was creased in worry, his gray eyes dark with concern. "Are you all right?"

I shook my head, tears spilling down my cheeks. I was an ostracized third of the famous Golden Trio. Only we were no longer a trio. It was me against the new and apparently improved Golden Duo. I had been dropped to the side as though I were a piece of rubbish. After a near seven years of being inseparable, I was dead to them.

"How could I have been so stupid, Draco?" I whispered through a harsh sob. "A month? A bloody month? How could I not have seen it?"

Draco pulled me into his arms, rubbing comforting circles across my back. "It's not your fault, love," he whispered. "They've no right to treat you like this."

At those words, my tears of sorrow were changed into tears of anger. Not at Draco but rather at Harry and Ron. Draco was right. I hadn't deserved any of this. Ron had no right to even claim me as his girlfriend, not for the last month. He was a two-timing bastard. And, if I hadn't been set on making it work, I might've noticed. He'd slowed up on his insisting that we spend more time together. He no longer wanted my help with homework—even if it was an excuse to try and snog me senseless. And Harry! —Harry had the nerve to come to me and beg me to forgive Ron. And he'd known what Ron was doing behind my back. For a bloody month!

"I want them to pay, Draco," I sobbed into his chest, my tears soiling his dark robes. "I want them to know just what they've done to me."

"Hush, love," Draco soothed into my ear, pulling me over to the couch and setting me on his lap. I buried my face in his neck as his fingers combed through my hair. "You don't mean that. Revenge isn't all it's cracked up to be."

I smiled sadly. "This coming from a Slytherin," I said softly, my anger already fading as his fingers traced his decisive swirls across my skin. (These patterns have a magic all their own. I wouldn't be surprised to find that he had somehow woven a spell with them. Merlin knows he possesses enough power to do such an extraordinary task.)

"True," he whispered as my eyes drifted closed.

There had to be something more to the swirls he traced. I wanted so badly to ask—knowledge is the ultimate power—but I was asleep before I had a chance.

AN: This chapter is apt to change...I'm not really happy with it yet but I've been feeling guilty for not updated this story--or providing anything else for that matter. I'm truly sorry that's it's been soooo long.

AN2: Did anyone else realize that the first entry of this story was Dec. 2nd and today is Dec. 2nd? That really only means that I've been working on this thing for a year and I've only got a month worth of entries done. I'm pathetic...