A/N: I know- I'm in a string of emotional, hard-hitting chapters… and this will be no different. Sorry..? But thank you all for your support on this; it really does make my day when I get feedback, even the crazy kind.

Disclaimer- Nope! Not mine! Not the one!

Chapter 26- Harry Still Hears Too Much

Pub Draco was much better than the back yard!

Harry stood alone behind the bar; an empty shot glass in hand, his spectacles off and resting next to the expensive bottle of whiskey he'd cracked only five minutes ago. His arms were folded; feet spread apart a foot or so as he stared out the large, open double doors of the parlor, and across the expanse of the living room through the back doors.

They were made almost completely of glass, and, mixed with his vantage point, made a perfectly safe place to watch the fire storm that was going on in the back yard. Even with his glasses off, Harry could see the plumes of smoke as they rose above the couple.

There had only been one tree on fire when Harry had followed Hermione to the back door, but more were going up in flames even as he started to walk towards the woods, and now that he was once again back inside, there were maybe six. 'Yep. Six. There went another one.' Harry thought, not caring to fight the redness in his face.

He'd given Hermione a few minutes before he went to find them; the trees that had continued to catch began to worry Harry greatly. If trees were being caught on fire, then what if Hermione had been caught on fire?! Sure- she could handle herself- but that wasn't the point. The two of them killing each other wasn't conducive to the mission, and Harry would feel kind of responsible for the casualties that came from that…

But following them had been a horrible idea! 'Why do I always have to hear shite?!'

Harry hadn't seen anything, but he hadn't needed to! He'd gotten just close enough to hear their bitter words through a large shrub.

-"You're an arse!" Hermione snapped, just before she made a pained gasp that sounded pleasured? And it came just after the sound of flesh on flesh? Harry's brows grew together as he waited. He had been about to walk around the bush towards them, until his mind had registered the sound of pleasure in her noises.

"And you're a bitch." Draco growled loudly. Harry sighed, and just as he contemplated peering around the bush, he heard Hermione say,

"Too much of coward to call me a "mudblood" now that you're fucking m-" Hermione's question was cut off by the now unmistakable sound of flesh slamming to flesh, and the witch made another pained gasp that sounded like she was enjoying it at the same time-

Harry's face went red at the memory, just like it had when he'd heard it, and he'd been unable to leave while he listened to them scuffle. He was frozen in his spot as he listened to Draco call her "Mudblood", and then the sound of her screeching, and then the resounding slap that followed. When the two proceeded in their… endeavors- even with the anger, slurs, and violence- Harry had gotten hard.

His blood had quickened, his heart-rate sped up as his hard cock had pressed against the inside of his pants… just like it was now, as he watched the trees smolder and the fresh flames lick at the branches of their neighbors. He gulped.

Harry had virtually run away from them, because the urge to look had been all too great. The urge to disturb them only to join them had crawled into his brain with a chill, and he'd pushed it away with his gait as he fled to the back door and into the parlor to drink.

Yes. Pub Draco was much better than the backyard!

Harry had to do something to forget his need. Their moment was not the time for Harry's new and embarrassing urges… not that any time that the other two were together was "that" time!

'Bloody hell!' Harry swore at himself as he set the shot glass on the bar, filled it with the brown liquid, and swallowed it with ease, before setting his glare to the glass once more.

He wasn't pissed at them, even though he should have been! He should have been angry that she was with Draco, but he couldn't be! Harry… understood some shite. In his mind, what he'd done with Hermione had been unacceptable due to his friendship with Ron, and the new friendship he'd made with Draco.

Draco, however, had no ties to Ron to keep him from doing what he was doing, and Harry had stomped all over the new lines that the "Man-Bonding Handshake" had constructed. Harry had slept with Hermione the previous morning. Even though he'd known Draco's feelings, and Ron's, he'd gone through with his actions anyway.

Harry had crossed the line, and this was his punishment.

He had to stand alone, in the parlor, and watch as the two outside lit tree after tree on fire! The raw energy and emotions were obviously unbridled, and Harry had to hate himself for wanting to be there. He- wanted to… be with them..?

"Bloody hell!" Harry yelled, slamming the shot glass back onto the wooden surface before him. He set both palms on the edge, closed his eyes, and let his head fall forward between his arms in defeat. He shook his head to clear it of the dream he'd had, and the feeling of being in it… the way he hadn't cared it was the three of them, only that it had felt amazing.

In all of the years that he'd known Draco, he had never once thought of him in a sexual way. He hadn't thought of any man in a sexual way, besides Len, and Harry had chopped that up to drugs, alcohol and techno music; the heat of the moment!

But Harry was involved in no moment here, and yet he found himself having one of his own; an epiphany, in Hermione's voice; in her earlier words…

-"How long can the two of you hold onto that "I'm better than you" shite before you realize all the "pouf" jokes are stemming from your attraction to each other?"—

No, Harry was not attracted to Draco!

He wasn't!

Sure, they'd spent a little time invested in ensuring the other's mental state was weak, and in making sure the other felt inferior… And being sure to let the other know when the other was present, as if the power play never ended; as if they'd always been "on" in the other's presence.

Stalking one another to be aware of the others every move, glancing at one another whenever they got the chance, being aware of their habits, and schedules… knowing that the blonde had been having an off day when his hair was in shambles- which was hardly ever- and how he knew Draco was either relaxed or extremely stressed if his shirt sleeves were rolled up.

Oh! And how he never drank tea! Ever! Like he wasn't English, or something! And the fact that he always folded his arms right before he got stand-offish, and…

Harry's face fell slack.

Had he really spent that much fucking time… watching Draco? Well, he knew he had, but that closely? That intently? Without realizing it? Hermione and Draco had also played a power game of their own for years, and now they were balls deep in a sexual disaster in the backyard! In broad fucking daylight... at noon!

Draco had clocks.

"Merlin's mother-fucking mum!" Harry was simply swearing and talking to relieve pressure; his heart and head swelling to the point of implosion at the realizations that were hitting him.

He didn't want to presume that Draco's own obsession with Harry was coming from an attraction, but Harry was starting to pick moments out from their life spent preoccupied with the other that were beginning to make sense in a totally different light!

All the stare downs, all the fights, and the endless ladder climbing to be higher than the other, to be bigger, better, faster, stronger, greater… The moments of being face to face, within a breaths distance, green and grey eyes opposing one another openly, daring to take the other down at any moment, wishing that such a moment would occur. Wishing that a moment of vulnerability would come so that they could strike, so that they could lash out; always on guard, waiting, wondering…

A moment flashed in Harry's mind; the two men's moment in the boy's lavatory, of how he'd hurt Draco with Snape's curse, and how the blonde had looked so pitiful and hopeless lying in the puddle of water… Of how Harry had been instantly filled with regret because he hadn't ever, truly, wanted to hurt Draco.

He didn't!

And he still didn't!

But that whole interaction had all been made possible because Harry had watched Draco like prey sixth year; he'd watched the blonde's expressions, his posture, his air and aura, and he'd become completely aware of him!

Harry was realizing he knew very much about the man in question; his mannerisms, his reasoning and justifications, all without ever having to ask because he'd studied him for years on end, really.

Harry hardly ever had to wonder about Draco for very long, anymore… except for when it came to this.

In a sudden flash, Harry remembered Draco opening his door at the Manor, shirtless, and the look of smug satisfaction that crossed the man's lips when he realized he'd been staring. Harry hadn't ever seen Draco with his shirt off before; the man was always wrapped in a full suit of black, and to see his bare pale skin had been a juxtaposition Harry hadn't been aware he'd liked…

'Wait… What?!'

"Fuck!" Harry yelled, just as another tree went up, the new flames causing him to jump back. An angry flush of confusion hit Harry's face, and he groaned as he felt a twist in his stomach that signaled that tell tale desire. He gritted his teeth and blinked it away.

He'd spent the past few years avoiding Draco, telling himself to do so because he knew the other man didn't want his attention! Did that mean that Harry had?! For… other reasons?!

Well- Harry had wanted peace, and the ability to eat his meals without having to avoid being near Draco just so that the Slytherin Head of House wouldn't open his mouth and say something they both would regret. To have any more bad blood between the two of them would have made Harry's time hell, even more so than it had been already! The urge to talk to the man civilly had come only a couple times, but he'd always avoided it because of the way Draco would look at him!

Draco's eyes were like mercury; pools of poisonous liquid, daring you to touch it as its toxicity reached heights of unimaginable heated rage, and then dropping below freezing, turning dark and grey, threatening frostbite and death. Harry knew that Draco guarded himself, and that his two extremes- indifference and hate- met somewhere in the middle by venomous sarcasm- were all the ways the boy he once knew, and the man he knew now, had kept himself from being fucked with.

Harry knew that Draco would do this… with Hermione; he knew he would strike out at the witch this way, because Harry understood the other man enough to know his emotional range, and that he would take this opportunity to take Hermione down while he was down; like he did to everyone.

That's why he'd told her to go… because they needed to get that out.

Even still, Draco had always seemed to control his emotions around everyone else, besides Harry and Hermione. And with that knowledge, Harry could always manipulate a rise out of Draco; he could always push Draco's buttons just right. This side of Harry, the side that had caused the Sorting Hat contemplate Harry's house placement, was something he noticed he liked to embrace in Draco's presence. He embraced his darkened soul, and he would lash back.

The prospect of how that one decision, Harry's plea to the sorting hat, had changed absolutely everything, and it had stuck with him through the years. Harry had often wondered what life would have been like if he had been sorted into Slytherin, and if he and Draco would have been forced into close proximity, if a friendship would have been achieved long before now.

And, possibly, how fate might have seen fit that Harry turn the young followers of Voldemort against him, and brought the crazy Dark wizard down before he'd even had time to think about rising again.

Harry's mind went back to his conversation with Draco behind the house in Amsterdam, after Hermione had gotten angry and left after their duel; which had been nothing like their battle in the lavatory. Draco had gotten stronger, more self-assured, just like Hermione… and Harry began to muse at how similar they were!

They both hid behind masks, and it caused them to be like two different people sometimes!

At the Manor- before the… open gawking of his bare chest thing- the blonde man had openly laughed at Harry's joke. And then he'd smiled at him after the duel!

-"So- you're saying we're similar?"

"No, just that- our crazies work well- together..?"—

Draco had even had a list of names for Harry; he already thought it odd that the blonde had watched him enough to have noticed he bought nine of the same shirt once; just to throw people off. Sometimes, Harry woke up with a case of the fuck arounds…

Harry hadn't thought too much longer on Draco's words, but now he wondered what the man had been thinking when he'd said that. Did Draco… fancy Harry as more than just his comrade? Is that why he'd always been a cunt to him, like he'd been with Hermione? He'd been a bastard to Ron too… but it was different! Was the fact that the blonde fancied Harry why he'd said those words? That they "worked well" together, even though he'd said it in the context of other than just on Hermione?

Harry groaned. 'We work well together on Hermione… that sounds- just great…' Harry really didn't think that sounded great. It reminded him that he was sitting on the sidelines while some other man shagged the girl he fancied! It reminded him of the dreams, and the illusory, Merlin forsaken kisses he'd shared with the man he'd used to hate!

But- if Harry fancied Draco, then…

"… then that explains why I'd rather be there than here…" Harry mused aloud, brows knitting together, one side of his upper lip raised as he let his own words sink into his brain. Harry tried to lie to himself quite often, but things were always brought to the light eventually.

Harry had always had to face the music in the end.

The newly self-aware man grabbed the shot glass, pushed it down the bar until it slid off the edge and shattered on the floor, and grabbed the whiskey to drink straight from the bottle.

-()-()-()-()-()-

Harry had watched as Hermione and Draco walked back in through the back door, give him opposite looks, shame (Hermione) and arrogance (Draco), and then went their separate ways; leaving Harry to pour himself a glass to go before retreating to his own room.

He hadn't been happy with himself when they walked in. He'd wanted to be angry with them, but after seeing them step through the back door he'd been unable to control his body from reacting. Sure, they'd attempted to put themselves back together before returning, but they looked bloody phenomenal freshly fucked.

He already knew this about Hermione- but the part about Draco... that had made Harry kick himself when the man walked up the stairs and out of sight. Harry had turned to watch Hermione walk toward the hallway and out of sight, as well… and he'd been torn in deciding on whether or not to follow.

The obvious choice had been to leave her alone, so he had. He'd left them both alone, went to his room with his drink, and sat on the bed while he decided what he was going to do about his new-found self-awareness. No matter how much he drank he knew it wouldn't help, so he settled on being slightly buzzed.

He thought to "accio" the bottle from the parlor, but now was not the time to get hammered. He wanted to, yes, but he'd wake up tomorrow feeling like shit and having to face Draco to ask for a hangover potion, right before Ron showed up and the four of them faced Marc.

All of this weighed on Harry; the prospects of the future catastrophes to come. He stared at the wall in his room until the sun began to grow low in the sky, and the darkness made shadows on the wallpaper before him, thinking of all that they would soon have to achieve.

When a knock came at the door, Harry jumped. He'd been dazed and confused for hours on end, without disturbances, and the knock on the door was not that of a house elf. It was either Draco or Hermione, and Harry wasn't sure he could look at either of them without blushing. The thought was already making his collar feel hot and tight, and he was wearing a t-shirt!

For a moment, he considered pretending he'd passed out from the alcohol, but part of him was curious as to which one had chosen to face him first.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Draco. He'd truly thought it would be Hermione, but on second thought, he could understand why the looming form of the confident man stood before him, and not the witch. Harry wasn't sure he knew how to have that conversation just yet, nor was he really ready to face Draco. 'Is he here to gloat or something?' Harry thought, before asking,

"What's up?" The mercury in Draco's eyes swirled, however they lacked their earlier dark grey hue of smugness. Harry had granted Draco that one moment, before the taller man moved up the stairs, because he knew he'd deserved it. It was better than a punch in the face, but it had hit Harry in the face none-the-less.

Harry ignored it then, but now he could not ignore Draco's features.

His posture bled with ease, his hair out of its tie, his black shirt untucked from his slacks, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hand in his left pocket, and his feet set apart as he leaned ever so slightly with the bend of his elbow. Harry tried desperately to block the image; of the nail of Draco's thumb scratching his bottom lip in thought, causing the flesh to look pink, while he peered at Harry with one dark brow raised, with an odd amount of analysis in his silver eyes.

Draco pulled himself up straight, not in a threatening way, cleared his throat and said,

"I set the alarm on the ward to go off in my room when Weasley gets here. Since you two are best mates, I assume he's liable for a drunken pop in." Harry glared, wondering why Draco had come to knock on his door to talk about Ron, and insult him all at the same time. Harry figured it was some ploy to rile him, and he shrugged indifferently, setting his jaw before saying,

"It's unlikely, but better safe than sorry." Draco smirked at him, and Harry raised a brow.

"Either way," Draco said, shrugging and turning to move back toward his room at the end of the hall. Harry wanted to say something… anything! Now that they'd actually spoken to one another, and Draco had been the one to instigate the encounter, Harry didn't want him to leave yet.

"I hope you know I don't care about what happened today," Harry said to Draco's back, hoping like hell he sounded convincing with the slight tremble in his voice. He really didn't care; it was the other part, the part where he had wanted to join them, that had caused his voice to shake ever so slightly.

The blonde man froze in his retreat, and he turned just enough to look over his shoulder at Harry, bite the inside of his cheek, and say,

"I know… And-"Draco sighed, and his straight shoulders slackened as he turned to fully address Harry when he said, "-it no longer bothers me about the two of you. You and I-" He moved a long finger, the pointer not in his pocket, back and forth between them, "-are now square."

Harry watched him move into his room without looking back again. But, for a moment, Harry could see the shadow of Draco's feet below the door, where he stood just beyond the other side without moving, as if he had something else to say but didn't have the guts to say it. Or even listening- waiting- for Harry to follow him.

For the glimmer of a second, Harry wanted to, but he didn't know what for…

"Never mind!" Harry said to himself before he turned back to his own room and called Mills for food, because there was no way he was going to put himself within either of their proximity, even while he was still tipsy!

()()()()()

Hermione awoke her second day in Greece sore, tired, and plagued by dreams of her, Harry, and Draco… together…

Finding herself alone in bed left her with mixed emotions. She was positive her face was red, and not from the stifling summer heat. She couldn't get the feelings of Harry and Draco's hands off of her! She'd felt them all night. Her hand was on her breast when she finally found consciousness, and she was wet- and it wasn't sweat.

The witch groaned into her pillow, and she rolled out of bed to shower at the first glimmer of sunshine.

She'd been unable to train yesterday morning, considering she'd slept between Harry and Draco like a baby between its parents. She'd been more than comfortable, and she'd slept for at least twelve hours like she'd never slept a day before in her life! Needless to say, it left no time to meditate and train before Minerva arrived.

That was an entirely different fiasco she didn't want to deal with, because it reminded her that Ron would be coming that day, and Hermione didn't know how many more emotional men she could handle.

She was an emotional wreck herself, already. Her fist hurt from socking Draco in the jaw; and she felt she had to meditate to get her rage to dissipate. She'd spent years tamping down her emotions, beating back the urges to weep for those she'd lost, and instead attempted to hold her head high and soldier on through life.

She'd had plenty of practice with this feat with Draco, and today was no different. She now had to face her four lovers (ex or otherwise), all at once, all in the same room! Luckily for her, only Marc was a true challenge. He was truly unpredictable; the rest she… well, she knew how they handled things.

"Fuuuuuuck," she groaned with a mouth full of shower water.

She had begun the shower, trying to block out the feeling of Draco's hands on her body... and her hands on his body. Neither had held anything back. 'Hate fuck, indeed! Well- at least I know he really is as… rough as he seemed to be…' But she forced her thoughts away from that, knowing that what she really needed to do was mentally prepare herself to see Ron again…

And MARC!

-"You do not deserve to be at his side, Hermione," Robel sneered, "Marc is the future of our kind- and you are its burden. It's disease."—

-"The gifts we are given, Little Otter," Tanet said, voice low and loving, " are given because the gods see we deserve them; because we are capable of them, because we can handle the responsibility of their burden.

"The question is; will you use your gift to help the less fortunate, the broken and the confused… or will you use it for destruction? For evil?"—

Hermione shut the water off and left the shower to dress and put her hair into a temporary braid while she walked to through the house to do her forms in the back yard. She trekked down the long hall that she'd accidentally attempted to ruin yesterday, and noted that it was all back to normal; though the paintings were glaring at her.

She ignored them all as she took the turn to the double stairway that met at a landing and led down to the huge living room… where Ronald Weasley sat alone, in an armchair.

He looked up to her as she reached the top of the stairs and she froze, staring down at him as her heart tried to beat out of control, and her breathing became instantly erratic. 'I hate manifesting destiny,' she thought, just before thinking, 'Breathe, Hermione. Breathe.' and she willed herself to continue down the stairs.

Ron stood as she reached the bottom, and she stopped in her silent tracks as they stared at one another. Hermione couldn't help but pull both her lips in and bite them as she tried to calmly breathe, waiting for him to start yelling. When he moved toward her, she flinched and froze and closed her eyes, not daring to fight him back or send him into another wall. It wasn't until he pulled her to him and set his lips to hers that she opened her eyes.

She hadn't expected that, not anymore! Perhaps two days ago before he'd found out that she'd fucked up, but definitely not now that she'd threatened to kill him. She supposed that he figured it wasn't the first time she'd had to so… so maybe he didn't care?

Perhaps… all he cared about was the fact that she was alive, and that she was back?

Hermione fought the urge to kiss him back, and she put her hands up to grab his lowered face and push it away, but didn't let it go as she looked into his eyes and said,

"I'm sorry, Ron. I really am! I'm sorry I left, and I'm so sorry I hurt you, and I'm sorry that I threatened you. And I'm sorry, but- I can't kiss you back. I- I fucked up! I left and I found someone else, and I can never make that right. I can't even stand to have you look at me because I know you should hate me. I don't care that you love me, because you should hate me for what I did and what I've become." She was rambling, saying all of the things she had planned to tell him if she ever had the chance to see him again.

"Hermione!" Ron cut in before she could continue her apologies, "I'm just happy you're alive right now! But I'm- fucking angry! I went mad yesterday! Ginny- well, she's suspicious as to why I got suspended, but Crookshanks was afraid of me for once!" Hermione froze, and she gave a sigh that almost turned into a sob at the mention of her familiar. She'd left him at the Burrow that night, and she'd told him what she was doing, and that he'd be safe with Molly.

The old orange cat had seemed to understand her; as if he could sense the pain and the self-doubt she'd harbored- and he'd simply rubbed against her hand and face, and then sat back and watched her leave. He'd been with her through the beginning of the hard years (all of the years seemed to be pretty terrible), but she hadn't felt comfortable dragging him along anymore.

He'd be safe and comfortable at the Burrow; but, apparently, Ron had taken him. Even if he hated the cat, Ron had missed Hermione as much as she'd thought; so much that he'd adopted her estranged, violent cat.

"You have him?" Hermione asked, her eyes wet as she held onto him. Ron nodded, and pulled his face away from her hands so that he could pull her into a tighter hug; a hug that felt like he'd never let her go…

Hermione sighed, relieved that Ron was able to come around without the urge to kill her, and she let him hold her to him in a famous bear hug for a long time. She still loved Ron, but not like that… Those feelings had long disappeared, but she still cared for him deeply; and she had seen his face every day she was gone. His and Harry's, and all she cared about, suddenly, was the fact that Ron seemed to have worked to accept all of this, and he was just happy to see her.

She remembered how she once waited for this man to look at her like he did… and how his waiting to show her his emotions used to hurt her more than anything; how his inability to tell her the truth had made her act so foolishly. She, apparently, wasn't as bright as she wanted to be. Hermione still hadn't learned to control her actions when it came to men, and Ron was no different.

Putting him through the wall had been inexcusable, and she said so,

"I shouldn't have thrown you into the wall the other day. I- I shouldn't have acted that way. I've been finding it hard to- to control myself since I returned and started using magic again…" Hermione sighed, "I have a lot to explain to you, I think. A lot to say-"

"You don't have to tell me. Minerva told me what you've told her- after she drugged me." Ron interjected, "I'm an Auror, for Merlin's sake. I know to question what I eat and drink. Especially after that Romilda shite! Bloody hell." The last part was said without any rancor towards McGonagall, just obvious disappointment in himself. Hermione gave a small laugh at this, and shook her head before saying,

"She drugged me too! To get that information she told you-"

"Ron." Harry's voice cut into their moment, and Hermione stepped away from Ron to look up to the top of the stairs where Harry and Draco both stood, still dressed in their pajama bottoms, glaring down at them.

'Fuck,' was all Hermione could think at present. It wasn't what it looked like, but she was sure Harry and Draco could give two shites. They looked angry, and she wondered how much they'd seen. 'Fuuuuuck…'

"Harry. Malfoy," Ron greeted snidely, "It's nice to see you both- and so chummy." Hermione wanted to groan, because she didn't want to have to put any of them through a wall at not even 7 a.m.

Draco had clocks.

"I'm going back to bed," Draco said and then turned to Harry to say, "I told you that alarm was a good idea," before his silver glare turned to Ron, "Don't ruin my shite, Weasley." Draco turned and disappeared down the hall.

"Come off it, Ron." Harry started, walking down the stairs towards them, "You know damn well we're all in the wrong here. We lied to you, you broke into my house and punched me, and Draco is- Draco."

"Wow. Draco? When did you two start dating? I thought Blondie looked freshly fucked." Ron asked Harry, who glared deeper. Hermione could have laughed if- well. You know…

"Just because, unlike you, I can get the fuck over something, and move forward, doesn't mean we're- gr! Ron! There's no looking back with all of this shite, because we have shite to do! And you can either help, like you claimed you would, or you can leave and let us deal with it without any more bloody rubbish!" Harry's face was angry, set in indignation as he came to stand beside Hermione, looking up at Ron with sharp, blazing green eyes.

Hermione was starting to get flashbacks of their times on the run… when shite went south. 'Did Harry just imply that on purpose?'

"You know what, Harry? I am going to help, because I can move forward! I can also be a good friend, unlike you! How dare you keep this a secret from me? And if you throw that bloody locket in my face one more time, we won't have a friendship to continue." Ron's voice had been rising steadily since he'd first arrived, and now it was bridging on yelling. Whether Harry had meant it or not, Ron had inferred the same thing as Hermione.

"I thought you said you could move forward," Harry said, crossing his arms. Ron frowned, and said,

"I am only going to say this one more time, Harry, so listen closely. I can move forward and kill this wanker who's after Hermione; whether or not I move forward with my friendship with you is still up in the air! It's a good thing you have a boyfriend!"

"Boys!" Hermione said, putting her hands up on either other of their chests as she noticed Ron take a threatening step toward Harry. "I already want to do this by myself, so don't make me stick you both to a wall and take Draco to help me without you."

If it were possible for Harry to look any angrier, it happened then.

Harry hadn't said anything to Hermione or Draco when they returned from their own "adventure" in the woods, and Hermione had known that Harry knew what happened. Hell, he had basically pushed her and Draco together during their conversation in the hall.

Even though she and Draco had glamoured their bruises and scratches and bite marks, and she'd fixed her hair (all without saying a word, other than incantations), the walk of shame- possibly made more evident by her uneven steps due to the soreness between her legs- was something she hadn't been able to conceal. The three of them had simply gone their separate ways; Draco not looking back to Hermione as he walked towards the stairs to his room and Harry watched her walk down the long hall to the library, all from his spot where he leaned against the parlor door.

His green eyes had been filled with knowing; but they'd held no hate or judgement or jealousy. She actually dared to believe that they held lust, but was too unsure of things after the surprise of the laughter she had just shared with Draco.

Of all of the unexpected things, his genuine mirth was at the top of her list. She hadn't expected him to look happy after she'd hit him so many times, and she hadn't expected him to look so bloody handsome when he smiled! He only ever smirked, or gave a short laugh that would dissipate too quickly to become a genuine grin. But he had… he had grinned at her! And he'd laughed!

Hermione had had many types of sex in the past, but before now, the idea of laughing afterwards was foreign to her. She would have seen that as mocking of your partner or their performance; but really, she was emotionally exhausted, and had just needed to go lie down.

She now saw jealousy in Harry's eyes, when she'd threatened to leave him and take Draco. She hadn't meant it like that, but she should have known better after yesterday. Hermione locked her brown eyes onto Harry's green ones, and she tried to convey sorrow as best she could… but he wasn't having that.

"Splendid. Now I can go back to Amsterdam." Harry said, turning to take off back up the stairs. Hermione could have run to the top of the large stairway, then; not to stop Harry, but to throw herself back down them!

"Harry! Stop! I didn't mean it like that!" He didn't stop. "Harry James Potter!" She yelled, and he did stop that time, but didn't turn around. She could see his breathing was heavy, and Hermione hated that she was still incapable of controlling herself.

'Keep your legs shut, harlot!' Hermione's little voice, the one who usually liked disorder, yelled at her. Even her bad side knew she was caught between a rock and hard place romantically right now; a rock, a hard place, a crazy ginger, and... Marc.

"I need you!" Hermione said, moving up the stairs to stand on the stair above Harry to look down into his angry eyes. "I need you to stay, ok?" She didn't want to see him get hurt, but it was a little too late for that; his green orbs were showing a lot of different things, and Hermione didn't want to see him like that- not because of her. 'Fuck!'

"Will you make up your mind?" Harry asked, and Hermione wondered what he meant by that. Was it on whether or not she needed their help, or was it to choose (romantically) between him, Draco- and Ron? Hermione sighed, slumped, and said,

"I don't need you to help me, Harry, but please don't go. This is so- confusing! If I go alone- I don't know what will happen. I can never tell what's happening with Marc when he's angry. He's liable to do anything, and- and that's why I didn't want you all to help me to begin with!

"If he kills me - I don't want you to have to live with having to face him! Or my death all over again! I-" Hermione was starting to become overwhelmed. This was exactly why she didn't come back. She fucked things up, more and more, every day; and the more people she surrounded herself with; the more those people faced a greater likelihood of their demise!

"Bugger yourself, Hermione," Draco said from above them. Apparently, he hadn't been able to leave like he'd thought. "What we decide to do is none of your business," he said as he started to walk down the stairs towards them, "and it goes without saying that what you do is none of our business. But you need to shut the fuck up, and the four of us need to figure out a plan before Marc figures it out for us, because this is now our business!

"You three stop squabbling like you're all married to each other- even though I know you are- and get over yourself before you get us all killed with your stalling!"

"Bugger yourself, Malfoy," Ron sneered, and Hermione looked to the red head with scolding eyes before turning to Draco and nodding.

"I was going to train, but this is more important," Hermione said.

"You think?" Draco asked in a mocking tone, with the slightest inclination of his head, like he was talking to a child who didn't know better, as he stopped on the step beside her. Hermione scowled at him as she her body remembered his hand at her throat, and Harry's grasp on her hips as she stood so near to both him and Harry, both men looking at her with determined, angry faces; but with eyes that scanned her face like they had when she'd been- with them…

They didn't get it… but the meditation was very important for Hermione's self-control. And, seeing as it was already failing, she felt the urge to tell Draco to eat shite. But, she knew that they were waiting for her lead. She just needed to take the plunge; though the cliff was high, and she wasn't sure if the water was deep enough.

()()()()()

The three didn't notice Ron's face, but he was looking at them strangely, head tilted to the side as his well-trained eyes assessed the scene before him.

A piece of his ward-building expertise lay in understanding ancient runes. He had spent months at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur, learning the skills of a Master Curse Breaker from Bill. The ways that runes could fit together, work together, work against objects, change according the magical signatures of the people who came in contact with them, fascinated Ron to no end.

He'd wondered why someone hadn't ever told him at Hogwarts. It was one hundred times better than chess! He would have been in that class with Hermione in a heartbeat, if only he had known!

So many wizards and witches were hindered in their understanding of runes because they limited themselves to believing that they could only be physically written on parchment or inscribed in stone. In the past, blood wards, those using the blood of the one creating the ward or the person that the ward would be set to, were considered the strongest.

Ron's ground-breaking realization was that runes could be inscribed within the very air or water, even onto single atoms. Ron had followed his learning with Bill by attending a few terms at a Muggle University, where he had taken physics, chemistry, and biology classes to truly understand the world around him on an elemental level.

Even with his knowledge, he couldn't begin to understand the runes he could see in the air around the other three people standing on the stairs; the way they fit together stood out from the ones in the rest of the room, collecting and locking in place perfectly.

Ron had never seen anything like it, and it caused more than an inkling of curiosity at the prospect of his three former classmates containing something within them, within their blood and magic, that caused such a reaction.

A/N: Check out what the Drarry cat dragged in! Pop-culture shout out for the "case of the fuck arounds" line from the flick "Movie 43".

A/N: My BETA is responsible for the logistics on Ron's powers. She's the best. She makes sure everything on this ship is tight! Bow to her as I do!