A/N: I have returned! Please forgive me if this chapter does not settle right – I had not written anything at all in over six months nor worked on this story in particular in almost two years. I hope it's okay! :/ Any and all feedback is appreciated! (Side note: if anyone wants to volunteer to beta for me, I'm currently beta-less and love to change that!)

Disclaimer: You will recognize a few lines in the latter portion of this chapter. What you recognize is not mine, but that of the revered JKR. As are the characters. And world. And basic background plot with Voldemort and war and purebloods versus muggleborns and all that jazz. All that stuff you know and love.

"Okay, Hermione, out with it."

Pushing my hair out from in front of my face, I looked up from my book and gave the redhead across from me a questioning glance.

"What're you talking about?"

"Tell me what happened," Ginny demanded, giving me a pointed look that matched the determined expression on her face. Feeling the red heat of shame shoot to my cheeks, I tucked my head, trying to refocus my attention on the words in front of me. Unfortunately, the words were blurring together, and I couldn't read a single phrase.

"I don't know what you mean," I replied, struggling – and failing horribly – to sound calm and casual.

"Bollocks," Ginny declared. Startled, my head snapped up, gaze instantly meeting that of the other girl. "You've been acting strange ever since you got here, you've been locked up in this room for days, and now my brother is acting weirder than normal, which is a feat! Something must've happened, so tell me."

Growing nervous under Ginny's study of her eyes, I finally relented. With a sigh, I put down my book, not even bothering to memorize the page number, and looked back up at the younger girl, biting my lip.

"Ginny, I'm just sick. I don't want to… I can't…"

"Hermione, am I your friend or not?" she demanded, propping her hands on her hips. "Something strange is going on with you, and now my brother is too. You were sick, but you're not now. I was going to let it go, but I can't anymore. It's been days!"

I sat there, pulling my bent knees into my chest, looking at the red head standing in front of me, taking in her stubborn expression, reviewing her words. The past couple of days since Harry's party and the mess that followed it had been surreal. When I'd woken again, I'd felt terrible all over. Ginny had gotten Mrs. Weasley, who'd come in and inspected me, gently examining me with magic. Outside of a temperature, a piercing headache, and fatigue, there wasn't much wrong with me. I'd spent a lot of time sleeping and the rest of it lying in bed. But two days later, I was feeling much better. Physically at least. All that time struggling to sleep and being able to do nothing but think had driven me crazy. My heart ached worse than my head ever did, and my brain felt like it had shut down and closed up for the season.

"It's nothing," I insisted softly, thinking about the chaotic collection of events and thoughts and emotions that had brought me to this pathetic state of being.

"Hermione, that's a lie," she accused, crouching down so that her eyes were parallel to my own. "You're my friend, and I care about you. You're obviously upset, and if my punk brother had anything to do with it, I'm obligated to beat him."

Her soft, caring voice as she spoke and its contrast with her words made me smile.

"He didn't do anything," I told her, thinking of when he kissed me. It wasn't his fault, really. Because my problem wasn't really with the fact that he did that – it was with the fact that I reciprocated. It was the fact that I'd wished he was him, and that I was missing him, and I felt ridiculous and hopeless and worthless all at the same time. "You don't have to beat him."

"Darn," she exclaimed, snapping her fingers and standing back up. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," I replied, another smile pulling open my face. Then my skin forced the smile to go away again, to stop stretching it so hard, and Ginny sat down next to me on the bed.

"Well, something must have happened, Hermione," she said gently, prodding me with her elbow. "I've never seen you like this."

I've never felt like this, I thought to myself. But I didn't say anything, instead just biting at my lower lip, feeling immobile and incapable of changing that.

"I'm not the only one that's worried, either," she added. "Most of them just think it's the sickness though. But it's more than that, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," I admitted. Then I slumped to the side, curling my arms around a bundle of blanket for comfort. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't feel sick anymore, but I just… I don't know."

Ginny and I saw there in silence for a number of minutes, her drumming her fingers on her knee and thinking who knows what, me trying to force my brain to be empty, as I'd been trying and failing to do ever since my bizarre dreams and horrible mistake of kissing back Ron.

"Ron's been acting strange whenever your name is mentioned," she told me. I didn't respond, nor did I react at all. I registered the words, but just with a surface level of comprehension. "He never volunteers to bring you food, but I've seen him lingering outside the door more times than I care to count. He doesn't talk about you, but listens whenever anyone else does. It's not like him. If he didn't do anything, did he say something? Did you do or say something to him?"

I heaved a sigh that I wish had blown all my complicated emotions from my head instead of mere air from my lungs.

"Do you really want to know?" I asked, twisting slightly onto my back and curling upwards so I could meet her eyes.

"Yes, Hermione, I do."

Again, silence fell between us. I rolled back to my previous position, hugging the blanket wad in my arms closer. I felt sure that at any moment, Ginny would speak again, would push and prod, but she didn't. Instead, I heard my own voice.

"I made things worse."

Too much truth. Too many emotions.

"Okay…" Ginny said slowly. "Why were things bad?"

I closed my eyes.

"I have feelings for someone," I admitted, keeping my eyes closed, as if that act alone kept my secret.

"I'd thought as much," I heard Ginny say. Part of me was intrigued that she had done so, and wanted to look at her facial expression to see if it matched her unconcerned tone, but the rest of me couldn't manage the effort. "Is it Ron?"

I jolted.

"What?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. "I mean… no, it's not."

"You don't have to sound so surprised at such a conclusion, Hermione," Ginny replied, sounding a bit taken back. I twisted around and opened my eyes to look at her.

"Sorry, I know… just… it's not him," I repeated, gaze and thoughts drifting again.

"Obviously not," Ginny muttered under her breath. Then, louder, "Did you meet someone over the summer?"

"Not meet exactly," I answered honestly, cringing at the idea of her figuring out the truth. "But there was a boy."

"And the two of you…?"

"Dated for a couple of weeks," I supplied, sneaking a peek at her reaction. She raised her eyebrows, then crinkled her nose. Then she shook her head.

"And he broke it off?"

I looked away, pulling my blanket closer and running my hand down my arm.

"No… I did."

"Really?" She sounded surprised. I let out a small sigh. "Yet you have feelings for him?"

"It's complicated," I stated simply, shrugging my shoulders. She must have expected more, but I wasn't about to elaborate, so after a few beats of silence, she pushed on.

"So how did you make it worse?"

I waited another moment, not wanting the words to come to life, to be real. Then I closed me eyes again and said them.

"Ron kissed me and I kissed him back."

Silence. Again.

"Are you serious?" she exclaimed, with a slightly higher pitched voice than normal. I rolled over and sent her a look in response. "Oh, wow, you are!"

I groaned.

"Hermione… why did you do that?" she asked, incredulous. "And why did my brother kiss you?"

"He was just trying to comfort me," I told her, thinking back to my long night of strange and horrible dreams a couple of nights ago. "It kind of got out of hand, and I'd had these… dreams… and I was… in a bad place."

"And not thinking of my brother at the time, I'm guessing?" she asked dryly. I groaned an affirmation. For a few more moments following, the air grew thick with silence.

"But if you have such powerful feelings for this boy, why did you break up with him?" she prodded gently. "It's obviously tearing you apart. And why don't you just make up again?"

"It's complicated," I repeated, the words sounding like a thin excuse even to my own ears.

"Is it because he's a Muggle?" she asked. I opened my eyes and sat up.

"I never said he's a Muggle," I replied. Ginny understood my unstated meaning, and her eyes widened.

"He's a wizard?"

I nodded, thinking how much easier it would have been if I had fallen for a Muggle over the summer. As complicated as Muggle/Magic relationships were, especially in the beginning, they had nothing on this mess. Muggleborn/Malfoy? That was a new ballgame entirely.

"Do I know him?" she asked, curiosity more than anything else filling her tone.

"I don't want to talk about him," I said instead of answering, breaking her gaze.

"We don't have to talk about him," she said, putting up her hands palm out. "I'm just trying to help, Hermione. What can I do?"

"I don't know. Nothing," I told her. "There's nothing to be done."

"Well, you can't go on for the rest of your life moping in this room."

"I'm not moping!" I protested. She gave me a look.

"Hermione Granger, I would never have thought you would be one to act like the world is ending after a bad breakup."

I blinked. I looked over at her. Her gaze met mine, serious, solid, concerned. I blinked again.

She was right. Where had my head gone? What was the logic in closing myself off from the world because I had a whirlwind romance gone awry? Brooding and feeling sorry for myself and doing nothing wouldn't fix my problems. Only action could do that.

"I'm going to shower," I announced. Ginny smiled.

"Good. You started to reek yesterday."

Showering always made me feel better, especially after I'd been sick. Something about the warm water and the sensation of being clean again helped restore my energy.

As I unwrapped my towel from around my hair, I inhaled deeply, staring at my reflection in the foggy mirror. The girl I knew was in there somewhere, and this weird spell of irrational, depressed nothingness would not last forever.

It was time to make a list.

Nodding my head, I hung my towel back on the rack and headed back to the bedroom I shared with Ginny. Reaching my trunk, I pulled out a quill and some spare parchment. Sitting at the cramped desk by the window, I started writing.

The problem:

I think I'm in love with him.

Why it's a problem:

We broke up.

He probably doesn't love me.

Our friends and his family would never accept us.

Possible solutions:

Talk to him at school, face our friends, struggle for happiness.

Forget about him and hope he does the same.

Love him from afar, don't pursue it, go for second-best.

Other problem:

Ron kissed me and I kissed him back.

Why it's a problem:

I don't love him. But do I like him?

I feel like I cheated on

Why did he kiss me? Does he like me?

If he does, I don't want to lead him on.

But do I like him?

Possible solutions:

Talk to Ron about it frankly and tell him I don't like him. Possibly harm friendship? Probably ruin any chance of future romantic relationship.

Talk to Ron about it gently and say I had a bad nightmare and appreciated him being there but don't want a relationship right now.

Treat Ron like normal and hope he forgets about it.

Try dating Ron and see if it helps me forget about

Looking down at my parchment, I crossed out the last line, then reviewed the list again. I nodded to myself, folded the parchment, and tucked it into my pocket. Out of my options, I hadn't decided which solutions to work towards yet, but at least I had them in mind.

Taking in another deep breath, I closed my eyes and released it slowly.

Then I exited the room, walked down the hall, and returned to the ground floor.

Time to return to my life.

Everyone was glad to see me, giving me hugs and expressing their previous worry over my state of health. Hugging Ron wasn't nearly as awkward as I'd feared it would be, and despite his slight blush and turning away when I first looked at him, he acted no different than usual. After a few minutes of reassurance and smiles, everything was back to normal. Well, this new normal.

Since I'd been so focused on my private woes, I'd nearly forgotten that downstairs, my friends and their loved ones were concerned with the bigger problem: the war. How selfish I seemed to myself after again seeing the dark circles beneath every adult's eyes and the invisible weight on all of their shoulders.

I had spent the majority of the day upstairs alone, so soon after my descent, Mrs. Weasley retreated into the kitchen, bringing Ginny and me with her. She assigned Ron and Harry the job of setting the table, leaving Fleur and Bill in the other room with Mr. Weasley, but he didn't seem to mind much. In the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley dominated the conversation as the girls helped her prepare dinner, but the nice sense of normality helped me feel more comfortable. Ginny and I share many looks as her mother talked and talked, but contributed little, being content to just be in each other's company again.

As soon as the food was ready, everyone sat at the table and began to eat.

"Now that you're feeling better, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley began, "we can go on ahead and visit Diagon Alley."

"Good thing, too," Mr. Weasley piped in, taking a sip of his drink, "I already made arrangements to go tomorrow."

"Did we get our lists?" I asked Ginny quietly in the corner of my mouth while the adults began to discuss the sad state of Diagon Alley nowadays. She nodded.

"Two days ago," she said, equally quietly. "Yours is in my room."

I sent her a smile in gratitude, then returned to my food. A few seconds later, I happened to look across the table and catch Ron's eyes already on me. He blushed lightly again, and I thought that maybe it would be best to figure out how to work on that particular problem before the other one.

The next day, we went to Diagon Alley as planned. Bill and Fleur stayed back at the Burrow, a fact which Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and I all appreciated, and the rest of us met up with Hagrid. As they had discussed the night before, Diagon Alley had changed, and not for the better. A heavy dreariness had settled in the area, infecting every building but the bright and bustling one that belonged to Fred and George.

Although I always enjoyed my visits to Diagon Alley in the past, this year's visit certainly would have been dark and depressing without a visit to their joke shop. As Mrs. Weasley had boasted, the twins were doing excellent business, and I was pleasantly surprised at the quantity and quality of their magical items.

One thing in particular caught my eye.

"'Patented Daydream Charms…'"

I picked up the intriguing box and read the informational text aloud.

"'One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens.'" I tilted my head to the side, considering the potential ways of going about making such a charm. Then I looked up at Harry, who was standing nearby. "You know, that really is extraordinary magic."

"For that, Hermione, you can have one for free."

Turning around, we both smiled at the sight of a grinning Fred, who immediately greeted us both. He reaffirmed his offer to me, calling it quite a compliment to have his magic be called extraordinary by me. I think I turned slightly pink, then thanked him as he dragged Harry away to give him a tour.

Turning back to the Patented Daydream Charms, I wondered if the user had any say over the daydream they experienced.

"Hey, Hermione," Ginny greeted me, offering a smile.

"Hi, Ginny," I replied, reciprocating the happy expression.

"You certainly look a lot better," she observed.

"I feel a lot better," I informed her, dwelling seriously on the turnabout I'd made mentally over the previous twenty-four hours. Dropping my hands, the box still cradled within them, I bit my lip before adding, "Thank you for yesterday."

In a relatively rare display of physical affection between us, Ginny gave me a hug.

"I know it's not over, and it'll still be hard," she said quietly, still holding onto my shoulders but standing at arm's length, "But at least you can work on making it better, right?"

"Right," I agreed, nodding. Then I shook my head sadly at myself. "You know, my mom and… others… kept on telling me that time would help, make things better, make problems smooth over, and I thought it was ridiculous. But I think I was rushing everything, wanting everything to have definite lines and answers at once."

"Don't you know better than not listening to your mother?" Ginny teased lightly. I smiled softly in the return, then lifted my hand to replace the box I held.

"Wait, what are these?" Ginny asked, picking up the box I just put back on the shelf. She skimmed the text and then sent me a meaningful look.

"You must be tempted," she remarked. In truth, I was. A daydream by incantation? A dream guaranteed not to be a nightmare? If I could control the dream, if I could place his face there… but that wouldn't help anything. In fact, I worried for a moment that if I did try it, I again face a sense of loss and hopelessness.

"At first," I admitted. "Not anymore."

Besides, if I couldn't have the real thing, I certainly didn't want a fake replica that ended after thirty minutes.