Far From Over

by RosePond

Hermione Granger and her friends are returning for their seventh year (properly) at school, but not all old prejudices have been put to ground with the death of Voldemort. A certain Slytherin fights his changing feelings for a girl who would surely never look at him the same way. It's a battle on all sides, and Draco Malfoy is determined to come out victorious.

25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-five

"That's it, I can't go."

"What do you mean you can't go?"

"I have nothing to wear. And I'm not being ironic or flighty just trying to get out of going." Hermione turned from the clothes scattered across her bed to the girls getting dressed behind her with a helpless expression. "Do you know why I like attending boarding school?"

"Because it's a magic boarding school and you come from a muggle family?" Lavender teased, coming to stand next to Hermione and look over her selections.

"Because it's in Scotland, one of the most beautiful places in the entire world?" asked Ginny, sitting on her bed with her hands wound into her long red hair, in the middle of weaving it into an intricate braid.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, then huffed and relented at the smirks on her friends' faces. "Well, of course, yes, I love both those things; but I meant the fact that we have a uniform for daily life. I don't have to worry about the nonsense of what to wear. But tonight we're going out. Tonight I have to pick an outfit that will look 'cute' but not like I'm trying too hard, or Ron will never let me hear the end of it. Tonight is the first day of the rest of my life and I'm never going to get to enjoy it because I have absolutely nothing to wear!"

Ginny and Lavender laughed, exchanging looks as they eyed Hermione's clothing selections. Then Lavender stepped forward. "Leave this to me," she announced, giving the bed a critical once over. A moment later she picked up a short, light-coloured, sundress with a high-low hem and delicate straps and paired it with thin pink cardigan and a pair of soft, knee-high brown leather boots from her own trunk, then added a pale-blue cashmere scarf. The result was a cute fashionable fall look and Hermione loved it.

"How did you do that?" she demanded. "I've been looking at that dress for an hour and it was not nearly that cute."

"Hermione, love," Lavender teased with an indulgent smile, "you may be the most brilliant witch in our year, but your fashion sense leaves something to be desired. Trust me, you're going to make Ron Weasley eat humble pie tonight."

Ginny shook her head, her eyes bright with mischief. "I'm sure you'll draw every eye in the room, Hermione. My brother doesn't know what he's missing." Ginny herself was dressed in dark-wash skinny jeans, boots, and a peasant blouse, her hair braided back; and Lavender was wearing a skirt that she had to have magically shrunk, and high heels that Hermione knew would be killing her feet after they completed the long walk into town. Lavender pulled her cloak about her shoulders, shaking out her long, soft blonde curls over top.

Hermione dressed quickly, tucking her wand into her boot before running her fingers through her curls with some of Sleek-EZ's hair tonic to smooth the frizz and help tame her hair against the wind outside. A few minutes later they'd joined the queuing third-seventh years heading out of the common room and down to the entry hall. The Hogsmeade visit began at 2pm and concluded at 8pm, unless you fell under the new regulations, which Ginny had been only half right about. You weren't allowed to stay out at late as you liked, though the curfew had been extended to midnight for seventh years. Hermione wasn't sure she'd want to stay out past 8pm anyway, but it was nice to have the option.

The walk into the village passed quickly, with Lavender complaining about her feet hurting less then fifteen minutes out of the castle, and Ginny laughing and teasing Lavender about about conning one of the many boys who were making eyes at her (or more accurately her legs) into carrying her the rest of the way into town. Hermione only saw Harry and Ron in passing as the crowd of students flooded out of the castle, and she resolutely ignored the giggles coming from the pretty fifth year, Violet, that had been flirting with Ron at lunch the other day, as she tossed her longed dark hair about her shoulders and linked arms with her equally-silly friend as they hurried past Hermione, making sure to walk near enough to Ron so that he could see them. Today was not a day to think about boys. Today was just for Hermione and her friends.

"Well, where to first, girls?" Lavender sang out, linking her own arms through Ginny and Hermione's as the high street came into view.

Seeing a cluster of boys with Gryffindor colours decorating their clothes near the entrance to the Three Broomsticks, Hermione tugged Lavender in the opposite direction: which just so happened to be Gladrags Wizardwear.

Lavender's eyes turned glassy with joy, and she squeezed Hermione's arm before hurrying toward the door. "The perfect start to our day. Hermione Granger, I do believe there's hope for you yet."

"Completely accidental?" came a teasing voice in Hermione's ear, as the bell over Gladrags' door jingled and Lavender skipped inside. She turned to see Ginny looking at her with dancing eyes.

"Yes," Hermione groaned.

"Had no idea which shop we were next to?"

"Uh huh."

"Come on," Ginny said bracingly, pulling Hermione toward the robe shop. "We'd better get in there. If we leave her alone she'll only spend the entire day in there, and Merlin knows her money bag won't thank her."

"We could just leave her there for a few minutes and go to Scrivenshaft's," Hermione wheedled, resisting Ginny's tug with a pleading look on her face. "Or even Quality Quidditch Supplies," she added at Ginny's hesitation. "Come on, Ginny, even I would would rather look at racing brooms than try on dress robes."

Ginny looked sorely tempted for a moment, but firmed her resolve. "Look, if we take one for the team now, then Lavender will have no ground to stand on if either of us spends a long time at our favourite shops after we're done here, right?" Then without waiting for Hermione's agreement, she pulled her inside the shop and slammed the door behind them.

xXx

"Is that what you're wearing?" came a faintly condescending voice over Draco's shoulder as he looked at himself in the mirror. He gave his clothing a once over in the glass: dark trousers, a long-sleeved, forest green Henley shirt that clung lightly to his body, showcasing his leanly muscled Seeker's build, and casual but nice shoes. He knew he looked attractive, despite the the informal outfit, and returned Blaise's look with a cool one of his own, sliding his money pouch into his back pocket and casting a quick extendable charm on the fabric so that it wouldn't bulge. He then slid his wand into the slim leather loop attached to the side of his belt and turned around.

"I might be able to spare a minute for fashion tips if you're finally able to admit you need the help," Draco drawled as he faced Blaise, who was leaning against the doorframe. Blaise, of course, needed about as much help with his own clothes as the average runway model, and that had been one of the varying factors in their initial friendship years back. Draco liked to surround himself with people who were well-to-do in all aspects of their lives, and being well-dressed wasn't a factor he ignored.

Blaise rolled his eyes but straightened up as Draco neared him, and the two of them headed down the hall toward the stone stairs that lead down to the sprawling common room. Draco was still feeling uneasy about the way Blaise had been acting lately, the secretive manner in which he was suddenly conducting his life, not including Draco in his plans—whatever they were—as he always had before. Though Blaise seemed to be looking at Draco with less suspicion since their meeting in the forest the other day, it was exactly that meeting that had ramped up Draco's own paranoia. Add to that the increasingly disturbing interest Blaise was having in Draco's relationship—such as it was—with Granger, and with Granger herself, that year, Draco had decided to follow the old adage of 'keep your friends close, but your enemies closer'. He'd been grateful at the start of the year for the way Blaise had eased him back into the fold of their house, but these days Draco was starting to wish he'd just been left to fade into obscurity. His life would have been far less trouble.

When the pair made their way to the bottom of the sweeping stone staircase, Draco noticed Sylvia and Ebony standing near the exit wall. Both girls were dressed up, Sylvia in an emerald green tunic dress and boots, and Ebony in a flippy skirt and a cashmere sweater. They had the appearance of waiting for someone, and Draco wondered if Blaise had planned to finally put Sylvia out of her misery and take her out on an actual date. As they neared the exit, Draco glanced covertly at Blaise, who was giving every appearance of ignoring the girls, however when he stepped into the hidden doorway of the wall, almost past the now-crestfallen Sylvia who was doing her level-best to act like she hadn't been hoping anything of the sort, Blaise flicked a glance over his shoulder at her.

"Coming?"

Draco wanted to roll his eyes at the way Sylvia's face lit up at Blaise's arrogant comment, but he moved aside so the girls could fall into step behind Blaise, whispering together as girls did when they gathered in groups of two or more. He rather hoped that Ebony wasn't supposed to be his date. Sure, he'd flirted with her a little in class the other day to get Blaise off his back, but she wasn't the one he wanted at his side in the village. Unfortunately the girl he did want wasn't on offer; though that didn't mean Draco couldn't seek her out if he saw her.

As the group made their way up out of the dungeons and into the main halls of the castle, Draco moved up closer to Blaise and leaned in so he could murmur in the other boy's ear. "You really shouldn't play with Melville's heart like that."

Blaise smirked, keeping his gaze straight ahead. "Oh I agree, there are other much more fun parts of her to play with instead."

Draco felt his carefully neutral expression slip slightly, and he frowned at Blaise. "You're far more uncouth than you pretend to be, Zabini. Sometimes I wonder why any girl gives you the time of day."

"It's not their days that particularly hold my interest, if you know what I mean," Blaise murmured back, and Draco felt his insides clench slightly at the lewd look on Blaise's face. "Besides, if Melville cared about any of that I doubt she'd still be hanging around."

"Perhaps someone should enlighten her to her other prospects," Draco returned smoothly, raising an eyebrow, and Blaise actually chuckled under his breath in response.

"I'm not averse to sharing, Draco, though you had your chance for dibs at the start of the year. Melville practically threw herself at you in several Herbology classes as I recall. But you seemed…distracted…by other things."

Draco narrowed his eyes but swallowed back a reply to this. The fact that Blaise talked of girls as things to be 'spoken for' or 'shared around' said much for his lack of character and morals, and Draco didn't like the subtle reference to Granger in the same breath. Not that Granger would ever give Blaise the time of day, she seemed uncomfortable around him at the best of times, but still. Draco turned the subject to Quidditch as they made their way down the front steps of the castle and tried not to think about anyone—especially his supposed best friend—touching Granger.

xXx

By the time Hermione and Ginny managed to extricate Lavender from dress shopping they'd been in the store over an hour and Lavender had purchased practically an entire new wardrobe.

"I do enjoy the odd jaunt into Muggle London to shop," Lavender was saying as she shuffled out the door sideways in order to manage all her bags in the narrow opening, "but no one has anything on Gladrags when it comes to style."

"Don't let Madam Malkin hear you say that," Ginny teased, nodding in the direction of the village's other clothier as the girls neared it coming up the road.

"Oh Malkin's is alright, I suppose," Lavender said, giving the shop a cursory glance, "though her tastes can run a little old fashioned."

"Just where do you plan to wear all your new things anyway?" Ginny went on, "around the common room? We do go to a boarding school, you know."

"A girl has to have options," Lavender returned primly, "she never knows what party or secret event might pop up in the future." Ginny laughed, and Hermione smiled.

"If we have too many secret parties at school Filch might actually cotton on," Hermione teased, though privately hoped that another such occurrence would take place. Shaking her head at the bad influence her friends were having on her, Hermione knew there were other reasons she hoped there would be more social events at school. She'd had a good time at the midnight Quidditch match, and wouldn't mind doing something like that again. Especially if her company was the same.

"Oh pish," Lavender scoffed. "He's only so cranky because he never got invited to any shenanigans when he was in school."

Hermione laughed along with Ginny as they each took a few of Lavender's bags and headed over to Quality Quidditch Supplies, Ginny's choice of destination. The little bell over the door chimed as they trooped inside the crowded shop, and Hermione scanned the other patrons as she searched for a place to wedge herself out of the way while Ginny shopped. Harry, Ron and Dean were already in a back corner of the store, along with most of the Gryffindor team, drooling over the latest racing broom, and Hermione felt her heart give a sad little thump. She knew that breaking up with Ron had been the best for both of them, even if Ron might not see it that way yet, but it still hurt. He had been her first love, but not her true love, she knew that now, and Hermione hoped that one day they could be friends again.

#

The bell chimed again twenty minutes later, and another group of people tumbled into the store, making it almost impossible to move between the aisles now. These boys wore a mix of muggle clothes along with a scattering of cloaks and jumpers with Quidditch teams emblazoned across their fronts. Micheal Corner lead the pack, his head high and a smug smirk on his face, as if he ruled the school.

"Remember," Micheal was saying pompously to the boy next to him as he passed Hermione, sotto voce, but in a manner that was obviously meant to be overheard, "We'll meet at the pub at four o'clock, tell the others. But make sure his lot don't overhear. We don't want to give away the plan before it's time. And we don't want certain people to interfere and try to take the glory for themselves."

Hermione thought she saw Micheal cast a glance toward where Harry was grinning at one of his team members, trying to talk him down from insisting the entire team needed new brooms for their next match. Micheal hadn't noticed her, pressed back against a rack of Puddlemere United jerseys, and she figured that whatever he was up to he was trying to one-up Harry for some glory at school—now that there was no more Lord Voldemort to fight, people like Micheal were less afraid to swagger about, acting as if they could have easily done the same thing Harry had, and with much less help. Hermione thought of this as Gilderoy Lockhart Syndrome, and rolled her eyes as she struggled through the crowd in the opposite direction that Micheal and his sycophants were headed.

Finding Ginny by a rack of gloves, debating the merits of dragon skin vs a cheaper, synthetic, import brand, with the store owner, Hermione tugged on her sleeve. "It's too full in here. I'm going to go over to Scrivenshaft's," she called into Ginny's ear, trying to be heard over the chatter of the shop. "I'll catch you up in the pub in a bit, ok?"

Ginny looked over her shoulder with a rueful grin. "Lavender's already bailed on me. She wasn't here five minutes before she spotted that Hufflepuff captain she's dead gone on. She told me that at least this shop was good for something, and then they were out the door. Probably snogging in Puddifoot's or something by now." She paused and smirked. "At least he took her extra bags for me."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh under her breath. It was such a Lavender thing to do. "Butterbeers in half an hour?" she offered, and Ginny agreed, waving her out the door and returning to her argument about glove quality with relish, looking like she was having far more fun than the shop owner was. Shaking her head, Hermione pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring Micheal as he pulled another boy into a corner to pass on news of his supposedly "secret" meeting. Boys and their stupid clubs. Were they all permanently in primary school?

Out in the fresh air Hermione took in a deep breath, enjoying the much quieter street as she made her way toward the quill shop; shopping for stationary was much less popular among the Hogwarts students than browsing the joke shop or ogling new brooms. With a happy little sigh, Hermione pulled open the door of the small store and let herself inside.

It was quiet in the shop, and somewhat dark as the store had small windows, but display lights twinkled over shelves of decorated parchments and tables of freshly sharpened quills of countless feathery designs. Hermione made her way down one of the aisles and inspected a sleek turquoise and blue peacock quill. It was beautiful but really rather extravagant. As she moved deeper into the shop, considering buying a box of more versatile crow quills for classes, the door jingled again, and a pair of boys came inside.

xXx

"Don't be such a whinger," the shorter, slightly plump boy was saying, elbowing his friend with a goodnatured grin. "I'll only be a few minutes. My best quill snapped in transfiguration yesterday and if I don't replace it by Monday I'm likely to fail our quiz."

"You could simply transfigure something else into a quill," the taller boy suggested, with a faintly exasperated tone, though it was clear he was only teasing his friend. "You'd probably be able to wheedle some extra credit out of it."

The pair came further into the store, and the taller boy straightened up, turning away from the front window that was currently distorting his features with the harsh light pouring in from outside, and Hermione took a step back into the shadows of the shelf behind where she had been standing. The lantern light softened Draco's sharp features, giving his face a more mellow look, and beside him, she could see Phil, his amiable face set in a contented smile as he scanned the tables for something suitable.

"I noticed Ebony isn't with you," Phil stated conversationally, making his way closer to the quill display.

Draco suppressed a groan. "Not for lack of trying," he muttered, and Phil chuckled, selecting a huge ostrich feather quill from the table and tickling Draco's nose with it.

"Think Merryweather would let me get away with this?" he asked with a grin.

Draco shoved the ostentatious feather away from his face. "You wouldn't be able to get that thing through the door, let alone wrangle it at a desk. Besides, it's tacky. True beauty is found in simple elegance." He selected a sleek red feather that glinted gold in the lantern light. "Try a Phoenix quill."

Though Draco was trying to play it off, Ebony had all but attached herself to his side as he, Sylvia, and Blaise had left the castle earlier that afternoon. Phil had been walking over to the village with Miguel Munoz, the pair of them intent on a rematch of Falsehood in the pub that afternoon. Draco thought he might join them, if only because he guessed Blaise would likely be persuaded to play, and it would give Draco no end of savage pleasure in cleaning out Blaise's money bag. Plus, since Blaise generally considered cards a 'gentleman's game' (whatever that meant), he'd finally shoo off Sylvia, and Ebony with her, and Draco could have a chance to breathe. He was only alone with Phil now because he'd spied him across the high street and waved him down on the pretence of pinning down the time of the card game. Draco had left Blaise with Sylvia and Ebony hanging off his arms, heading toward the Hog's Head, and was now doing his best to spin out his conversation with Phil as long as he could. Even if it meant shopping for school supplies.

"Can I help you, miss?" came the sound of the elderly shopkeeper, and Draco glanced away from the quills, realizing that there was someone else in the small shop besides him and Phil. He squinted at the end of the aisle as a short girl with soft brown curls cascading around her shoulders and down her back stepped into the light. Realizing it was Granger, he did a double take, nearly dropping the Phoenix quill. Phil was still twittering about the versatility of swan quills vs raven, but Draco barely registered his words. Granger looked a little embarrassed as she exchanged a few words in a quiet voice with the shopkeeper, glancing between Draco, Phil puttering about behind him, and the the quills she'd been inspecting. Draco noted the peacock quill and raised an eyebrow. Prim, proper Granger had a secret taste for pretty things. Interesting.

He stepped closer as Granger handed the owner a few coins, and he placed a slick black crow quill into a bag before handing it to her and moving off into the back store room. Draco nodded at Granger in greeting, feeling the first genuine smile of the day tug at his lips. "Granger, why am I not at all surprised to find you here?" he teased, drawing Phil's attention as he spoke, but stoutly ignoring the curious look the boy split between him and Granger.

"Good afternoon," Granger said politely, smiling slightly at him, and nodding at Phil who had come up beside him.

"Granger!" Phil exclaimed jovially, "you can break the tie for us. Draco insists that ostrich is too fancy for school, but raven seems so dull. What do you think of swan? Anyone who knows anything knows that you're one to put thought into her school things. Help a bloke out here." He proffered two quills, the elegant, white swan feather that curled slightly at the tip, and the long, sharply pointed raven quill, that glinted oil-black.

"Oh, um," Granger glanced between her bag and the table where the peacock quill still lay, and Draco smirked faintly, wondering at her internal dilemma. "Well, the swan is very pretty of course," she began, but Phil broke in, noticing her paper bag at last.

"What did you get?" he inquired, stepping closer as if he might insist she show him. Granger took half a step back, blushing faintly, and Draco took pity on her.

"Granger is far above such frivolousness," Draco cut in, drawing Phil's attention back his way. "If you asked for her opinion, she'd tell you that it doesn't matter the bird the quill comes from, as long as it holds ink." He turned to glance over his shoulder at Granger and winked; he thought that her blush deepened at that, though he wasn't sure if it was because she was offended at his remark or—his heart considered what his brain insisted couldn't be true—she was embarrassed at his boldness. Her pretty pink cheeks made him want to wink at her again, just to see if she'd turn even more rosy.

Granger cleared her throat, slipping her bag into a pocket in her cardigan, and Draco found himself running his eyes down her outfit. The light sundress fit well, gliding over Granger's slim curves without being too clingy, her legs bare from a little above her knees, ending in a pair of high quality leather boots, and her lightly tanned skin was emphasized against the bright colour of the light cardigan she wore unbuttoned over her dress. He hair was less frizzy than it often was, and he wondered if she'd used some potion on it. Then he wondered why he had noticed this sort of detail in the first place. Normally Draco would give a girl a once over, decide if she were attractive enough to spend an evening with, and then never think about her again. Not so with Granger. If anything, he thought about her far too much than was good for him.

"I bought a crow quill," Granger was admitting to Phil as Draco pulled his eyes away from her face, feeling the tips of his ears heating with the fact that he could have been caught out staring at Granger over-long, especially with Phil there to witness his sudden soppiness. He cleared his throat, trying to gather his scattered wits.

"As I said, Phillip," Draco clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder, nodding toward the raven quill. "Granger is the epitome of reason."

Phil looked faintly downcast that he hadn't been able to gain support for his own clear love of fancy quills from a girl—since obviously girls loved fancy things, right?—and dropped the swan quill back onto the table with a frown. "I suppose you're right," he agreed, turning to bring the raven quill up to the counter to pay.

Draco looked back to Granger, feeling slightly awkward now that they were alone in the aisle. "Enjoying your visit—?" he began, just as Granger spoke too.

"Having a good afternoon—?"

They both lapsed into silence for a moment before Draco spoke again, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. Knowing that Granger was single now was playing havoc with his heart. He felt awkward and unsure, two emotions he was very unaccustomed to feeling.

"My afternoon has been somewhat annoying," he offered, choosing to answer Granger's question as if there had been no interruption. "Phil has been a godsend, however, getting me away from a rather awkward double date," he trailed off, realizing Granger's expression had fallen slightly at his mention of being on a date. He tried not to read too much into it, though he knew he'd mull over her every minute reaction as soon as they parted ways. He cleared his throat again, rubbing the back of his neck. "And he's roped me into cards as soon as we're done here. Convinced he'll be able to rob Blaise blind. I promised I'd buy him a Firewhiskey if he at least didn't lose all his money to him by the end of the first round."

"I've been practicing!" Phil called from the counter, taking a paper bag from the shopkeeper and turning toward them across the room. "Zabini won't know what hit him!"

Draco rolled his eyes, feeling a smirk tug at his lips at Phil's comment. He turned back to Granger and murmured under his breath: "The only way Blaise won't utterly decimate Phil is if we make him take a victory shot after every winning hand. He'll be utterly smashed by the third round, and then at least won't notice if one or two of us slip in an extra card after that."

Granger snorted a laugh, flushing, and then struggling to shoot him a disapproving look. "One would think cheating would be beneath you, Draco," she said, and he suppressed the thrill of Granger actually using his name in public, even if Phil wasn't close enough to overhear them.

"When playing cards with Blaise, cheating is a means of survival," Draco returned with a smirk. Granger rolled her eyes, but he was pleased to see a smile tugging at her lips nonetheless.

"Ready to go?" Phil inquired, coming back up beside Draco, and glancing between him and Granger. He hesitated slightly when he noticed the shy smile on Granger's face, and took half a step backward. "I can go ahead if you're not quite finished, Draco," he offered, and Draco stiffened, suddenly feeling unsure about Phil getting notions about himself and Granger.

"I'm ready," he said quickly, turning to Granger and nodding at her. "Enjoy your day," he said, somewhat lamely, and turned a bit abruptly toward the door. If she said anything in response he didn't hear it, breathing a sigh of relief as the door banged shut behind him a minute later.

xXx

Hermione clutched at the sleeves of her cardigan, her nervous fingers digging into the light wool as she hovered near the door to the quill shop, peering out the window to make sure Draco and Phil were far enough down the street for her to make her own exit from the shop. She gave her head a shake as she came outside and started up the street toward the Three Broomsticks; there was nothing improper about having a conversation in public with Malfoy. Phil certainly hadn't thought there was anything amiss. If anything, Malfoy's friend seemed slightly suspicious that something more might be going on between Hermione and Draco, and he didn't seem averse to it. This was the second time that he'd subtly attempted to give the pair of them some alone time; she wondered if Malfoy had noticed.

The Three Broomsticks was packed by the time Hermione arrived, and she had to look around for several minutes before she finally spotted an empty table with enough room for three people. As she took her seat, Hermione scanned the room, taking in the many students talking and laughing together as they drank their Butterbeers. She spied Lavender cozied up with the Hufflepuff captain in a dark corner, looking like she didn't see anyone else in the room but him, and Hermione mentally rolled her eyes. So much for a girl's only day; hopefully Ginny would arrive soon.

A loud laugh caught her attention then, and Hermione looked down the row of tables. Ron was sitting at a booth with most of the Gryffindor Quidditch team crammed in around the curving bench. Violet was on his left, looking adoringly up at him, and Ron was grinning down at her, one arm around her shoulders. Harry was sitting opposite Ron, on the far side of the booth, having squeezed in on the last available space, and he seemed to be alternating between rolling his eyes at his best friend and glaring at him. When Hermione caught his eye from where she sat a few tables down, he made a face at her, conveying his annoyance at Ron's actions. Hermione shrugged, and looked away, watching the door for Ginny once more.

"You lot find a table," came a deep voice behind Hermione just then, and she glanced over her shoulder to see that a group of Slytherins had entered the pub from the back way. She didn't recognize any of them at first, then a weedy boy moved into view and Hermione bit back a startled gasp. It was one of the boys she and Draco had seen in the forest the other night, Burlington, that's right, and behind him were the other three boys from the woods, though Blaise was no where in sight.

A fourth boy moved out of the group, gesturing toward a booth that had just emptied out a little way down from where Hermione was sitting. "Over there," he called to the group, moving forward and striding quickly past Hermione, so as to reach the table before anyone else could claim it. She couldn't help but stare at his face and bruised knuckles as he passed. It looked like he'd recently been on the losing end of a fight.

"Good eye, Wittlesbrite," called Blakely, clapping a hand on his shoulder and elbowing a Hufflepuff out of his path as he marched down the aisle between the tables. "Go hold the fort while I find Rosemerta."

"What's the opposite of cougar?" Anderson muttered under his breath, nudging Cartwright with a snort of laughter.

"Cougar hunter?" suggested Burlington, though he still cast Rosmerta an appreciative look as the boys piled into a booth meant for eight, but spread out to fill the bench so no one else could try and join them.

"As if she'd ever give you the time of day, mate," Cartwright guffawed, glancing at the shapely proprietress who was passing out butterbeers nearby.

Hermione put a hand up to shield her face from the side, even though she was sure none of the boys had seem her in the forest. She'd left shortly after Draco had started talking to Blaise, not wanting to be caught out, because Merlin knew what Blaise would have to say about finding the pair of them in the woods.

"Weasley's over there," the boy Blakely had called Wittlesbrite muttered under his breath, and Hermione glanced up, unable to help herself at the mention of Ron's name. "Malfoy said he'd handle things," the boy went on, glaring at Ron as he threw back his butterbeer among chants of "Chug! Chug!" from the rest of the Gryffindor team, "but Weasley still has all his limbs."

The rest of the boys muttered among themselves, some of them sounding annoyed at Draco's lack of retaliation for something, and others grumbling that he'd become soft this year. Hermione felt unsettled. She didn't want to talk to Ron, but she didn't think it was fair to let him walk into an ambush either. Some of the Slytherin boys at the table were pretty big, and with Ron's fairly poor wand skills, he'd have to rely on his fists if they jumped him. Stealing herself, Hermione waited until Madam Rosmerta had come to take the Slytherins' orders, then slipped around the far side of the pub, making her way toward Ron.

"Harry," Hermione hissed out, trying to catch his eye so that they could speak without her actually having to talk to Ron directly. She'd decided on this plan as she'd threaded her way through the tables, and hoped she could pass on her warning and make it back to her table before Ginny showed up. "Harry!"

Harry looked over, but before Hermione could get him alone, Ron noticed her presence. He didn't say anything, but the girl cuddled against his side with one hand splayed on his chest did. "Hello, Granger," she cooed, looking thrilled to be pressed up against a Quidditch star. If Hogwarts had cheerleaders, Violet would be one. "All alone? Such a shame. I personally adore coming out to the village to spend time with someone special. It's such a drag otherwise."

"I'm waiting for someone," Hermione retorted coolly, ignoring the simpering look Violet was giving Ron. Ron's eyes snapped over to Hermione at her words.

"Meeting someone special, are you?" he sneered, glancing across the pub as if he could spy out Hermione's date. "Certain people only have one thing on their minds."

"I'll be sure to tell your sister you think she's a tart," Hermione snapped, "and make sure she buys me dinner first." Ron blinked stupidly at her for a moment, while Harry snorted, hiding a laugh behind his tankard of butterbeer. "Harry, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Harry raised an eyebrow but got up, moving a few paces off to talk with her behind one of the wooden pillars that supported the upper portion of the inn. "What's up?"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at where Ron was now nuzzling Violet's neck. "I'm not even sure he deserves to know right now," Hermione muttered, turning back to look at Harry.

"He's being a prat and he knows it," Harry agreed. "That Violet is so full of air I'm surprised she doesn't float away.

Hermione felt half a smile tug at her lips at Harry's words, but pushed on before she could let her emotions get the better of her. "There's a group of Slytherins sitting on the far side of the pub," she said in a low voice, "no, don't look, they might have seen me come over here. They're in the corner booth opposite your table."

Harry visibly restrained himself from turning around and nodded at her to continue. "And?"

"It sounds like one of them has taken issue with Ron," Hermione went on. "Wittlesbrite, I think his name was."

Harry frowned. "Kieran Wittlesbrite, yeah. Ron got into it with him the other night."

He didn't elaborate and Hermione pressed her lips together, wondering what had caused the argument. She waited a few moments in case Harry decided to fill her in, but he didn't say anything more so she continued. "It sounded like he was egging his mates on to get back at Ron for something." She didn't add that the boys seemed to think Malfoy was involved—Hermione planned to ask Draco about that herself later—because Harry was being cordial to Draco for her sake and she didn't want to upset the balance. Especially as some of the boys at the table seemed to think that Malfoy had decided to let slide whatever problems had occurred.

Harry sighed heavily. "I'll watch his back; though to be honest, it might do him some good to have to deal with the consequences of his own actions."

Hermione frowned. "Harry, what happened—?" she began, but he met her eyes with a look that cut off her words.

"Ron's never been good at handling rejection," he said in a low voice, glancing over his shoulder.

"He seems fine to me," Hermione said coolly, watching Ron slide out of the booth, tugging Violet with him as she giggled and clung to his arm.

Harry turned to follow her gaze. "I'm sorry he's being such a jerk. You don't deserve that."

"No, I don't," Hermione said softly, and Harry offered her half a smile.

"Give him time to realize you were much too good for him in the first place," he said, voice gentle, and Hermione returned his smile with a brittle one of her own.

"Even if it takes until the end of the year?" she asked sardonically, leaning against Harry's side as they watched Ron poke Violet in the ribs as they crossed the room, and she squealed in delight.

"Well, he's pretty thick, our Ron," Harry acknowledged, "it might take longer than that. But I'll keep reminding him."

Hermione laughed under her breath. "Thanks Harry," she said quietly, feeling slightly better. "I'd better get back to my table, if it's still there. It's so full in here today that you have to fight off people with a stick if you want to save a seat for someone!"

"At least our sticks have magic," Harry teased, grinning more naturally now. Hermione smirked, shaking her head as she made her way back to her table.

xXx

Please review! :)