Hallo, my dear Readers,

As promised you get the new chapter at Friday – and I do think the title says a lot what is to come in the next part (laugh).

Thank you so much for the reviews,

Have Fun with chappi 36,

Yours Lywhn

Chapter 36 – Secrets and Apologies

The Prefects' meeting took forever, in Hermione's and Draco's opinion. The Prefects were discussing the decorations for Hogwarts for the Advent, knowing full well that most of it would be done by the professors. And this was the fourth meeting they had about the Christmas party, before turning to other school matters, like problems in class, minor dramas between students, misplaced Detentions, test results, and so on.

Finally Draco had had enough, declaring that they all turn over the 'false' test results as reports to him and Hermione, agreed with the slight change in the patrol schedule, and finally booked all of the next Quidditch practices, before he dismissed them. One by one the Prefects went away – all, except for the members of the DA, and Harry was at the entrance only a moment later. He'd waited for half an hour near the Head's dorms, until the summoning coin warmed, and he received Hermione's secret message that the meeting was over, his signal to come.

Ten minutes later, all of the members of the DA, minus Ron, were gathered and the two senior students relayed the information they'd learned that day. Heated words were heard, everyone feeling uncertain and somewhat betrayed by the four, but again it was the Gryffindor Queen who pointed out that their visitors could be up to something bad OR good; possibly trying to prevent some dark and dreadful event. The point she was able to convey was: Yes, of course, stealing was wrong, and if one of their teens or all four were responsible for the break-ins, then it argued against them planning anything good, and; No, they weren't guilty until evil intent was proven, and as long as they didn't know exactly why the artefacts were needed and how the long-dead wizard was connected to their activities, most of the DA were willing to 'wait and see'.

They concluded they should do more research in the library, and were glad that Draco said he would contact his father again, hoping that the former Death Eater would find additional information they could use to unravel the knot their guests had posed.

"Don't you think your father might get suspicious if you ask him again for something about ancient Egyptian magic?" Harry asked carefully.

Malfoy shrugged, catching a gaze from Hermione. "I'll come up with some plausible excuse. Besides, I already promised our Head-Girl I'd risk it."

Again the boy-who-lived could only stare at the Slytherin-Prince, now sitting near Hermione, reminding him that Draco had every right to be there. 'What is going on between those two?'

They all went off to dinner together when they were done with their meeting. Ron had to stay in the Gryffindor tower; ten days of his two weeks' grounding still ahead of him. Hermione sighed at the thought of him. She knew that he often felt himself the underdog, first at home (having grown up with five elder brothers) and sometimes even in Hogwarts. This was especially apparent during their fourth year, when Harry's name was spat out by the Goblet of Fire. Ron quickly grew jealous (nothing new) but she knew his jealousy was not rooted in resentment, but in the fear of being left out. But this time she couldn't help but think he deserved the punishment. He'd overstepped it, and maybe the time alone would help him think straight for a change.

Chattering with the others, including an excited Neriman who gotten a letter from her parents, dinner passed and Hermione accompanied the others to the Gryffindor common room. After all, it was Sunday. Even if tomorrow was a school day, she was accustomed to staying with her friends during the weekends. Ron was in one of the armchairs by the fireplace when they arrived. He glanced up at her, frowned and went back to looking at the fire, obviously sulking. He'd taken Harry's speech after the combat to heart, and his mind was telling him that his friend had been right. But his stubborn heart wasn't ready to give in. He knew that this was one of his biggest faults, but – as before on such occasions – he simply couldn't find the determination to let go of the grudge, or to apologize.

Nevertheless Hermione, had a nice evening with the Gryffindors, lost against Harry in wizard chess – yes, she was the most intelligent of the trio, but really was bad at chess – and helped Ginny with Arithmancy and Wilhelmina with Ancient Runes. Shortly before ten o'clock, the Queen bid her friends and fellow good-night, and Harry walked her back to the Head students' dorm, officially in case Peeves went after her. In truth, he wanted to make sure that she didn't cross paths with one of the Egyptians, and possibly changed into a mummy. Smiling at his chivalry – 'I wonder if Harry and Draco realize how similar they are?' – Hermione gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before she vanished into the dormitory, making Harry grin at the gesture. She was family, the little sister he never had (even though half a year older than he).

Draco was nowhere to be seen, spending his evening with Graham, Patrick and Abdel, and so Hermione retreated to her room, ready to go to bed, and read a wizard novel she borrowed in the library. Contrary to the general belief, she also read things other than school and science and history books, and she was curious how this story would unfold. She'd barely finished in the bathroom when she heard Draco entering the common room. Odd. She felt more comfortable with him being around; somehow… safer.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Monday went by in an unusually mundane manner, and after Hermione spent more time in the library, she returned after dinner to the Heads' dormitory to study for their upcoming tests. Draco offered her to help her with Charms, because he already knew what advanced charms Flitwick required. Hermione gladly took his offer and the two worked their homework together. The Gryffindor-Queen gave the Slytherin-Prince a good laugh with her attempts to master the required charms that caused her sofa to fly. His laughter was intoxicating, and Hermione found herself laughing along with him, watching the bobbling furniture.

"Trying to make Quidditch more comfortable, more ladylike, by replacing the brooms with flying sofas?" he teased.

Rolling her twinkling eyes, Hermione stuck her tongue out at him from across the room, folded her arms and pretended to pout – a sight quite tempting to Draco, but he stopped himself. They still had a lot of homework to do. Additionally, they had to-

A male voice from behind suddenly made them both jump. "May I join the joke, Draco?"

Hermione gasped and Draco leapt from his sofa and whirled, wand raised. Then he saw the face of Lucius Malfoy rising from the green flames and relaxed. "Father! You startled me!"

"The flying settee startled me, as well."

A ghost of humour was in his voice. Draco rolled his eyes. "Na, a charm went wrong, that's all." He knelt down in front of the fireplace, blocking his father's view of Hermione. He didn't want his father seeing her, possibly withholding information because of her presence. She took the hint and stood very still in a darker part of the room. "What can I do for you, Father?"

The curved brow on the proud face was lifted. "I do think it's the other way around, my son. It's time for you to tell my why you need to know so much about the ancient magic of Egypt. And now, even about a dark wizard killing one of the old kings?" Draco frowned and looked over his shoulder at Hermione – a gesture Lucius didn't miss. "Who is there with you?" his father snapped.

"No one is here. The sofa distracted me," Draco mumbled quickly, for indeed, it had bumped into the wall.

Lucius nodded. "Well, why the sudden interest?"

"Because of our guest students," the younger Malfoy answered. "It's … a kind of riddle we have to solve … sort of like a game, as I already told you." Draco kept his face expressionless, even if he felt disquieted. He didn't like to lie to his father, but if he told him the truth about their very excellent reasons, Lucius would be into the Headmistress' Office demanding answers quicker than Draco could get to his feet.

Whether he bought Draco's excuse was not apparent. He only stared at his son for a long moment, then he slowly replied: "The sketch of the doll you sent me revealed a history of a very ancient, dark and powerful magic. And now you want to know about a wizard who lived more than three thousand years ago and had his own following. It's quite strange that Hogwarts' guests are playing with this knowledge."

Behind Draco Hermione's eyes went wide. 'That wizard had his own following? Like Voldemort? Sweet Merlin, maybe we are really WERE on the right track!'

Draco stored this piece of information deep in his mind, but was concentrating on something else just now: finding a good excuse to keep his father from growing more suspicious than he already was. "They don't think we'll learn enough to solve the riddle they gave us in private, but there they're wrong. It's a question of honour that a Malfoy always finds a way to win the game." He flashed his father a confident smile, before he continued: "Concerning the dolls, I remembered that I saw those signs when I was younger, remember? And that ancient wizard? They said that Egypt had its own 'Voldemort' a long time ago, but that we would never found out who it was. Well, they're wrong! I'm determined to prove the opposite! And the one I asked you about was the best candidate I've discovered so far."

Again the older Malfoy was quiet for a moment, before he answered: "What do you already know about this man?"

"He was a guard of the royal herds and was a part of a conspiracy against Ramses III," Draco ticked off the points on his fingers, sitting on his heels. "He studied at the library in Thebes and was brought to trial after Ramses was murdered. He was accused of causing the king's death and using magic. And, there is a report that something strange happened during the trial. That's pretty much it."

Lucius nodded in the green flames, sending new sparks up through the chimney. "That isn't much, but because you know the time period I do think I can find something out." He cleared his throat. "And those dolls – how did you know about them?"

"They were placed in the beds of our guest students when they'd left the dorms. I do think that they can trick the wards, or possibly are linked with Abdel and the others – like a Voodoo doll," Draco replied warily, careful not to reveal too much. HOW could he explain his father that those dolls assumed the identity of the four Egyptian students, and even deceived an enchanted map? Or that he even knew about an enchanted map?

"Correct. They're created for that purpose, as I already wrote you. That event you're researching is connected with the beginning of the Dark Arts three or four thousand years ago." He saw the interest in Draco's expression, and added, "That kind of magic is just that old and, as a result, extremely powerful. Now you can understand why I wanted to contact you about your requests for this information."

"Yes, but…"

"Draco, you do know that we are still being observed. And that all of us – your mother, you and I – will get into a lot of trouble if the Aurors learn that you are asking for information about the roots of the Dark Arts and I give it to you. That kind of magic has its own power. It is not so well researched and formulaic as accepted magic, but it is nevertheless very dangerous. Many spells, hexes and curses were developed from these early attempts and were refined. And now you want information about an ancient wizard who is perhaps comparable with Voldemort. If someone besides us learns about this request, we will face trial again – at least you will."

Draco took a deep breath, voicing his answer carefully: "Father, I do know that it looks rather odd that I'm asking these details, but I can reassure you that I am not planning anything stupid with this knowledge." He shrugged. "It's just research. Our guests showed some very interesting defensive spells, and told us that many of the charms and hexes we're using today are rooted in the Egyptian past. Several came from the Greeks who stole the knowledge from the Egyptians when they conquered their land. So, the first real roots are Egyptian."

"And Chinese," Lucius added, "but seeing that Hogwarts hosts no students from there, your interest lies mainly in the Egyptian magical history." He sighed. "I will help. But I will not send word to you by owl or the floo network. You will have to wait until you're home for Christmas. Will that be sufficient?"

Draco smiled broadly. There were only four weeks left until the holidays. "Of course, Father. Thank you very much."

Lucius nodded, frowning. "All right. Good night, my son and your mother sends her love."

"Thank you, Father, and mine to her, too."

The head in the fireplace vanished with a loud hiss, and the two Head Students were alone again. Draco rose and turned around towards Hermione, whose face revealed her excitement.

"That went better than it could have! And your father already knows something about the wizard."

Draco blinked, confused. "What?"

"Of course! Otherwise he wouldn't have mentioned that our wizard had his own followers. How would he know this detail if he didn't know of whom you spoke?"

The Head-Boy shook his head. "Really, Granger, sometimes you're eerie. Your logic is-"

A loud whump made them both jump, wands drawn. The golden sofa had fallen from near the ceiling as the charm wore off, and the noise had been deafening. The senior students looked at the harmless item that sat before them as if nothing happened. Then they glanced up to the ceiling and then at each other – and burst out laughing.

"Well, should the brooms ever be replaced by flying sofas, that charm will be perfect!" Draco chuckled and Hermione dropped on his sofa again, holding her belly with laughter, glad to relax after holding her breath while Malfoy Maximus attended Malfoy the Younger.

They were making progress, Malfoy had made her laugh, again, and as she looked up into his smiling features, she felt warmth spreading through her like the first rays of the sun after a long, hard winter.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Speaking of winter, Thursday it began to snow. When the students and the staff went to bed Wednesday evening, it was raining, and when the first inhabitants of Hogwarts awoke, they discovered the landscape had changed. Where fall had stripped the trees and turned the hills brown, shimmering white now greeted the eyes. Thick flakes fell silently from a grey-blue sky, and the air was cold and fresh as only snowfall could create. Silence had spread over the countryside – the mysterious and well-known quietude of winter, when snow muffles all noises and sounds and the semblance of peace reigns.

The school emptied after the lunch period, during the midday break, and the peace was broken by a delightfully fierce snowball fight where nearly everyone joined. Which greatly irritated Filch, who kept insisting that everyone 'stop this foolishness before you break a window', but – of course – no one listened. And when Professor McGonagall passed the nasty caretaker berating two frightened first-years, she hit the caretaker with a silencing spell that no one could remove, but would "wear off within the next couple of hours," as Professor Abdelghani explained with a shrug to a furious Filch. Of course the professor knew the counter spell, but after he caught several pleading looks from the younger students, Ghani made up the excuse, and the snowball fight continued. The muted caretaker stomped away. Ghani had to grin and joined the impromptu battle, delighting in the new sensations of snow and its marvellously malleable properties. Minerva, knowing full well that this was a very small complot, returned into her warm office, amused and grateful that after the war so many students could enjoy the innocent pleasures of a snowball fight or building snowmen with wand or with gloved hands.

Friday came finally, with everyone looking forward to the upcoming Quidditch match the next day. Except Harry. He was at the edge of desperation because of one very important detail: it looked as if Gryffindor would be without a Keeper tomorrow, the one who guarded the goals, flying around the three hoops. Ron had swallowed his pride and made up his mind to apologize to Hermione on Wednesday, but the Head-Girl had only shown him the cold shoulder, ignoring him. It happened again on Thursday and now, there was only one day left until the Quidditch game. Harry had prepared for everything, training with Ron in secret in their bedroom, getting the idea of it while they were confined to the Great Hall for practice. The bedroom up in the Gryffindor tower was not large, but after Ginny shrank the furniture and trunks, and Harry shielded the windows, he trained with Ron by flinging Quaffles at him, one after the other, while Ron had to block them. Because of the small room he had to manoeuvre quickly and precisely, and his reflexes had grown more keen, along with his confidence.

But now, Friday evening, it didn't look as if there would be a Gryffindor Keeper tomorrow and Harry was growing edgy because of it. Sitting next to Hermione this time and facing Ginny, he could bear it no longer. During dessert, he cleared his throat. "Have you and Ron spoken with each other?"

She looked at him, frowning. "What? Why?"

Groaning, Ginny glared at her friend. "Mione, did he apologize to you?"

Silence spread up and down the table, before Hermione stuttered: "He… He…"

"He tried to apologize to you – twice!" Harry said, lowering his spoon, watching her with disbelief and frustration. "But how can he tell you he's sorry if you won't even stand still for it?"

Blood rushed into Hermione's face. "I didn't run away, Harry, I was just not any state to talk with him about his abominable behaviour!"

Harry sighed. "Mione, that was last week. And he is very sorry about what he did. I know it. We've discussed it repeatedly, and … and he really feels awful, and he does want to apologize. I was there when he tried."

Hermione stared at him. "During class or just before Detention he wants to talk with me about something like this? Like talking about cricket scores? Why, I wouldn't-"

"Hermione, you're avoiding him," Ginny said calmly, heading off a tirade. "Of course I understand your feelings, but he truly wants to make it right with you. Think about it, he's a guy. He'll choose the wrong places and times, but his heart is in the right place. Don't you think that you should give him at least the chance? The only time he can get to you is between classes, so…" She smiled hopefully at her friend.

The Head-Girl was about to retort something, her eyes beginning to blaze, but closed her mouth when she felt a none-too-gentle kick near her ankle, coming from both Harry and Ginny. She didn't know about the little deal between Draco and Ron, because Harry and Ginny had thought it better to keep it a secret or Hermione would believe that Ron only wanted to apologize in order to play on Saturday. Therefore she couldn't understand why her friend was bringing up this topic now, but as she looked up and down the table and saw only hopeful faces, she was baffled. "What…" She glanced at Harry, who wore an expression innocent as a newborn's, and then at Ginny, who was pleading with her eyes, the truth became obvious.

"This has something to do with tomorrow's Quidditch match, doesn't it?" Silence was her answer, accompanied by some nervous shifting, uncertain glances or sudden avoidance of eye contact. "Harry ...?"

It was more a demand than anything else and Potter sighed, looking at his Ginny for support. Ginny took the matter into her own hands, again echoing Mrs. Weasley's many competencies. "Malfoy is ready to spare Ron tomorrow's Detention when he has apologized to you."

Hermione gaped at her.

"Well, he didn't want to handicap our team by removing our Keeper," Harry added. "He thinks that his team-"

"He thinks that it wouldn't be fair to punish our whole house because of Ron's stupid behaviour. He didn't even take any points from us," Ginevra quickly added, not wanting Harry to spoil the whole thing by referring to the Quidditch cup. She knew how touchy Hermione was about the matter, and asking her to accept Ron's apology only to support a Quidditch match was definitely not the right way to approach this.

But Hermione wouldn't be Hermione of she couldn't see through her ginger-haired friend instantly. "So, you want me to talk to your brother so that he can play in the match tomorrow?"

Ginny shrugged. "You can be angry with him as long as you want, but please allow him to apologize to you, or tomorrow we stand no chance against Ravenclaw."

Groaning, Hermione banged her head several times against the table beside her plate. "Why me!"

"Mione!" Harry said gently. "Please! It's for Gryffindor. This is our last year here in Hogwarts, and until now, Gryffindor and Slytherin are even concerning who has won the cup while we were attending school. I so do not want to watch them regain the cup this year." And placed an arm around her shoulder. "And, by the way, everyone makes mistakes – because none of us is perfect. Even Dumbledore made mistakes, and that's what made him so human and lovable." She turned her head to look at him, and he met her eyes. "And think about what his portrait would say if we win the house cup this year. We were some of his favourite students, and I do think we owe it to him to win the cup this year after we returned to Hogwarts, and after all he did for us."

Hermione moaned. "Harry, it isn't fair, bringing up Dumbledore! He-"

"He isn't with us any longer, yes, but his memories still live in his portrait, and how proud he would be if his long-time friend, Professor McGonagall, could tell him that Gryffindor, the house she led all those years and the one he attended as student, too, won the house cup." Harry was pouring it on, seeing that her armour was cracking.

Growling Hermione looked up at him. "That's not fair, Harry! You know it!" She met his hopeful glance and groaned. Her eyes found Ginny's, and they were pleading silently with her, and sighing, she gave in. First, she didn't want to be the one to mess up tomorrow's match. Second, she didn't want to be responsible for throwing away Gryffindor's chance at winning the house cup this year (Slytherin had won it far too often for her taste and was still the closest rival again this year.) Third, she did want to honour Dumbledore's memory by making his portrait and their head-of-house unhappy. Fourth, she didn't want to disappoint and anger her friends and house mates any more than she had. After all, she did have a certain secret concerning a particular Slytherin, and if Ron's accusations were about to become true, then fifth, she would need any ally she could get and – oh no! Now she was even thinking like a damned Slytherin! Draco had too much influence on her already! (Yes, she actually numbered her reasons for changing her mind. That made them more easily accessible later, if she had to figure out what she'd done wrong.)

Losing whatever appetite she'd had, she threw her napkin beside her empty plate and glared at her friends. "All right, you win! I'll talk with Ron – but only because of you all!" She pointed a finger around, sending glares at her house mates. "And give us a few minutes before you all come running up to the tower!" she ordered.

Eager nods around her and the relieved smiles of Harry and Ginny were answer enough, and sighing, she stepped out of the bench, asking herself why she was doing this, and going over the reasons again, one by one. Sighing she left the Great Hall, heading towards the Gryffindor Tower.

She didn't see the wary glance of Malfoy, who watched her leave after her house had persuaded her about something. And regarding the upcoming match tomorrow, he had a pretty good idea to where (and more importantly, to whom) she was going. Irritation scratched at his mood. If that idiot hurt her again, he would personally land that Weasel in the hospital wing for a long time! But if that git really apologized to her and she accepted it, he – Draco – would have remain true to his word and release the Weasel from tomorrow's Detention to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team as Keeper. He sighed inwardly. He did not want to let his rival off the hook, but if Weasley truly told Hermione he was sorry, then Draco would have to admit the deal he somehow made with Potter to McGonagall. His stomach twisted inside him.

Hermione didn't know about her Head-Partner's thoughts and the jealousy that bubbled in his stomach as she went up to the Gryffindor tower, gave the Fat Lady the password and entered the cosy common room. Ron sat in one of the armchairs but turned around and quickly jumped up, as he saw her. Crossing her arms and looking straight at her long-time friend, who might have become more to her someday, Hermione watched. Yes, she still loved him deeply – the reason why his words had hurt her so terribly – but with a soft shock in her subconscious, she realized that the forbidden thrill wasn't there like it was whenever Malfoy was near.

Clearing her throat, she lifted her chin. "Harry said you wanted to talk to me. Well, here I am."

A long moment stretched across the room between them, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire, then Ron took a deep, shaky breath. To be here with her, alone, was scrambling his thinking again. She always seemed so collected and controlled, but he knew the fire that was burning beneath her calm demeanour. He always felt inferior to her in such moments, and it didn't make it easier for him to say what he'd been meaning to say to her for days now.

"Hermione, I…" He gulped. "I am sorry. I am really sorry about what happened. I…" he searched for the right words, "I had no right to yell at you like I did and … I apologize for everything I said." He self-consciously flattened his tousled red curls and mumbled: "You know me. I … I just got jealous and … Well, it snapped when I saw you with the Ferret."

Hermione watched him warily. Her feelings were troubled as she answered quietly, "You're right, Ron, I know you. I know that your control is anything but perfect and that you overreact quickly. But this time you really hurt me."

Ron lowered his head: "I'm sorry, Hermione, and…" He took another deep breath, glanced uncertainly around him and said quietly: "Like I said, I am sorry how I behaved. I know that I overdid it and … well … I was … I am jealous." His gaze found hers and shaking his head he continued: "Besides Harry, you're my best friend and … and I have more feelings for you than just friendship. And to see you together with that smug, arrogant prick made me so angry, and you know that when I'm angry I … I overdo it." He cleared his throat. "So, what I want to say is, I'm sorry that I accused you of falling for that git and said you betrayed me behind my back. I should know better. You're the most loyal soul I ever met and… and I was also mad because I thought he would only use you and then hurt you afterwards. And I couldn't watch that happen, or even let it happen. You mean too much to me." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So … I do apologize and hope that you will forgive me for being … the complete bastard I accused him of being."

Hermione was silent again for a long moment, then she answered: "You hurt me a lot, Ron, more than you think. You accused me of something without knowing anything about it, or having proof of it being true. You simply imagined some whatever you wanted and acted on it, without considering fully if it was right or wrong. You-"

He sighed and interrupted her: "Hermione, I'm not blind. I saw the way Malfoy looked at you – still does, for pity's sake! I saw all those little gestures he uses, proof enough that he is attempting to lull you into trusting him. Then after you started to defend him at any opportunity, I was sure he was winning his silly game. Yes, he rescued you and stood up for you, but experience tells me he didn't do it out of a good heart. He's planning something, and no one wants to see it – not even Harry, if I read his decision right, letting Malfoy in the DA."

"You-"

He moved tentatively toward her and rested a hand on her arm. "Mione, I don't want to see you get hurt or abused in any way, and I know it will happen if you trust that fiend like you seem to."

Groaning, Hermione walked to one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace and sat down, dropping her head into one of her hands. How could she tell Ron that Draco really could be trusted now without proving that his accusations were correct? That the Prince of Slytherin was a friend to her by now, judging from his behaviour? She would only reveal how close she and Malfoy had become, even if nothing had happened besides some heated snogging. And she knew that this would continue – and more. They both hungered for each other, and she knew that it was only a question of time until their control broke with repeated contact, which would lead to things Hermione didn't dare to think of it just now, not here, not with Ron.

She sighed. She needed a plan. First, she had to convince Ron that Draco wasn't a danger to her – or to any of them. The sooner Ron accepted that, the better for them all. They had other problems than jealousy and mixed emotions, which would flare up soon enough again the moment her friends learned of her forbidden feelings.

She cleared her throat, ready to straighten out the things which were most important to her concerning her relationship with her friend. "Listen, Ron, I do know that you love me – as a friend or more – but you should understand that I am my own person. You not only accused me of things which weren't true, but you also tried to order me around, which I will not permit."

"I was only worried …" he began, but Hermione interrupted him softly, looking up to him as he stood beside her.

"I know, Ron, and I'm grateful for your concern, but your anger should never allow you to shout at me if I don't do as you want. I am an adult, Ron, and no one needs to treat me like little girl. After all I've been through, I think I'm capable of making my own decisions and living with the consequences. Now, referring to Draco, he has changed. He isn't the enemy, Ron, but an ally – and my rescuer. We are growing closer, I will not deny this," she saw his eyes widening in shock, and continued, "and you have no right to damn me now. You showed me pretty well that you think of me as something you own. I do love you, Ron, I really do, and I do understand that you've suffered from Fred's death, but don't accuse those who had no hand in it."

"Death Eaters killed him and -!"

"Yes, Death Eaters, Ron – fully grown wizards and witches, choosing the Dark Side and enjoying the torture of others. But Draco was never one of them. Not really. He was forced into their circle to save his parents. And he tried to keep Harry safe in the Room of Requirements, when Crabbe was about to kill him. And he didn't give Harry away when we were brought to Malfoy Manor. Harry has given him the benefit of any doubt, and so do I. Maybe someday, when your grief isn't so keen anymore, and you've managed to put some distance between yourself and the horror we all went through, you will feel the same."

Ron swallowed hard. These were almost the same words Harry had used the evening after their shouting match, and he understood – of course – that both of his friends were right. Draco Malfoy hadn't a hand in what had happened to the Weasley family, and it certainly wasn't his fault that Bellatrix had used an unforgiveable curse against Hermione. But still the deep resentment wouldn't disperse so quickly. Ron didn't want to discuss the arrogant Slytherin-Prince right now. There were other matters at hand – matters far more important to him. "Mione, this isn't about Malfoy, but about you and me. I … do understand that you have learned to work with him. You have to work with each other, and you were right when you said it is better this way – easier for you. But please understand me. I love you, Hermione Granger, and the thought of someone else trying to win you drives me bonkers."

Cocking her head, Hermione looked at him, a new guilt rising up in her. Ron was right: Draco tried to make her his, but there were other reasons for his slow but certain approaching victory than his devilish good looks and the temptation of the 'forbidden fruit'. "When someone is drawn to another, it is never a one-sided matter. There are many causes when two people grow apart and turn to others."

She saw him grow pale. She stood, and laid one hand on his fist. "But concerning your apology, Ron, I accept it – I'll forgive, but it will take some time to forget. You wounded me – in front of the whole school. You practically called me a slut because I can talk to another male." She watched him lowering his gaze and continued calmly. "We aren't engaged. We were building a relationship that goes beyond friendship. But if you think that I'll keep my distance from all men for the rest of my life, or ask your permission to make another friend, then you're wrong – and there will be no future for us."

The shock ran deep, and all of sudden, Ron realized that he had destroyed more than he'd known with his silly, jealous accusations and heated words. Hermione was a self-aware, strong young woman, no longer the lonely little bookworm with no friends as she had been in their first year. And she certainly wasn't the mousy little teenager anymore, uncertain of her appearance, struggling to find her best side, covering her insecurities with more knowledge than some of the teachers had. She had bloomed into a headstrong, warm, beautiful young woman, and had – despite the horror of the war – retained her faith in people. She would always offer help to anyone, would always stay true to those she loved, would always be the reasonable one, while he – Ronald Bilius Weasley – would always wear his heart on the sleeve, acting on his feelings before thinking twice. They would always have their differences, but this was a challenge he was willing to face.

"We all make mistakes," he mumbled, rubbing his neck. "You, Harry, me – even Dumbledore. And we all learned from them. So, if you give me a chance …"

She sighed deeply, hugging herself. "I never said I wouldn't give us a chance, Ron. I already have, beginning with the months I spent watching you and Lavender climbing all over each other, or when you left Harry and me out there in the wilderness last year." He started to retort, but she lifted a hand. "I know, you were under the influence of the Horcrux in the Slytherin medallion, but I think it must have found that tendency in you, forcing you to live out your frustration." She shook her head, biting her lips. "Think about it, Ron, and don't blame Malfoy for everything that doesn't go your way. I don't ask you to become best mates, but a civil acceptance and some courtesy is certainly expected."

Ron pressed his lips closed as he heard her doubts at their relationship. But this wasn't the reason for a new feeling of irritation scratching at him. Again, she had defended Malfoy between the lines, and remembering the way she clung to the Slytherin in Hogsmeade, saying that she was safe with him, Ron knew that he had to act. He had to make things right with her before that albino Ferret could steal her from him. He was not blind to the fact that Malfoy was an attractive bloke, and certainly had his charms. He just never thought that Hermione would fall for someone like that. And if he wanted to win her back, he had to do something about it.

Hiding his thoughts, he simply nodded. "I'll try, Mione."

She smiled wearily at him. "That's all I want." She turned, saying, "And now I have to tell my Head partner that you apologized and that he has to release you from tomorrow's Detention."

New jealously flamed up in Ron and made his face flushed. "You're going to him right now?" Then it hit him. "You knew that Malfoy agreed to let me off Detention, if-"

Hermione grimaced. "Yeah, Ginny told me." She saw him opening his mouth and lifted her hand again. "I know that you didn't apologize just because of the game. And I don't accept it because of that stupid game, because I know that you're honest in your regret. But think about what I told you, Ron. About everything I said."

With a nod she left the Gryffindor tower, leaving a thoughtful and irritated wizard behind.

TBC…

The next chapter will be a sweeeeeet one, this much I can tell you. And we are nearing Christmas now (ungh… not really, just have a look out of the window and at the next thermometer, giggle). There will be a lot of fun, and several small hot scenes between our two love-birds.

I do hope you liked the last chapter, please, please leave some more reviews,

Have a nice weekend,

Yours Lywhn