A/N: Apart from the first part or so, this is a brand new chapter. Yay! Just a quick reminder to people who have already read the previous chapters; I've said it in Chapter One, and I'm saying it again: Each of these chapters have gone through a change, Chapter Two and Three especially. So I would really appreciate it if you find time to read them again. Sorry. ~_0.

WARNING: A bit of suffering and angst in the next few paragraphs, and gradually a few swear words will be added … so the rating of this fic has been upgraded to PG-13. Maybe even to R if more stuff happens …

Chapter Four Relationships and Tribulations

"Sometimes I feel the world is coming to an end …"

"And then you feel it's just beginning …"

-Liesil von Trap and Maria in The Sound of Music

Before anyone in the room could register what was happening, a blast exploded into their eardrums, and Hermione was thrown violently back to hit the wall with the force of a battering ram.

The door had been crashed open as though blown off by explosives, blasted right off its hinges to come smashing down on the ground. Behind it, wand stretched out, and steely expression on face, standing tall in all of his four feet height, was Wimple.

He glanced across the room instantly without a word, taking in Hermione grimacing in pain, Mr Weasley's frozen expression, Ginny crying out in terror and rushing over to the injured Hermione, and Ron, standing erect, a glint of fear in his glassy eyes. Than his glance came to rest on Harry.

"I've waited too long, Potter, too long." The words, dripping with hatred, were squeezed out of his throat, scratchy as sandpaper.

Afterwards, Harry could remember standing motionlessly, staring at Wimple, not being able to take it in so fast. He could remember Hermione's scream, Ron and Ginny shouting frantically, and Mr Weasley calling out in warning. All those memories seemed faded, blurry, as though he was hearing and seeing it all from behind a screen. He could remember Wimple rushing up to him in slow motion (yet he knew it had taken barely a second), and then the wild and jumbled thoughts were all blended into one furious twister as he hit the ground with a sickening thud, Wimple on top of him, his arms around his neck.

It was no wonder Harry was confused. Wimple's body weight pinned him to the ground while he felt his life slowly ebb away with each of his fatal squeeze. His scar was exploding in hot white pain, so much so that he couldn't see, couldn't hear, all he could feel was this blinding surge of pain, bursting out in kaleidoscopic patches in front of his eyes, feel himself struggle hopelessly against Wimple's tight grasp, toppling on the verge of unconsciousness. He choked and thrust out his arms, but to no avail. He couldn't feel, he couldn't see, he couldn't breathe. So this is what it's like to be dying, his brain mused. This is what it's like to have the life squeezed out of you, while there's nothing you can do about it. My parents must have felt like this.

He had felt pain like this before, when Voldemort had used the Cruciatus curse on him. He had wanted to die, to let it all end, but this: the Cruciatus curse was like a walk in the park compared to this, even worse than having a cold sharp knife insert itself into him.

And then suddenly it all stopped. Harry felt Wimple release his grip on his neck, and his pain faded, he could breathe again, see again. Harry opened his eyes, his vision slowly restoring, drained of any energy he had left. He slumped limply on the ground, patches of red and blue exploding behind his eyelids. No pain accompanied them this time, just a great, numb exhaustion that overwhelmed him to the extent that he just wanted to lie down and die, to hell with life and existence.

However, the frenzied hollers coming from some one else in that room other than him forced him to crawl up with effort to rest on his arms (he found it painful to even sit up, not to mention stand).

Wimple was thrusting around madly on the ground, not at anyone in particularly, as though fighting with some sort of invisible phantom. Harry had never quite seen such a disturbing sight, of someone so much in pain, knowing that their screams would stay firmly and permanently in his nightmares. Wimple looked on the verge of breaking down. He was twitching, shaking uncontrollably, struggling around on the ground like a dying insect. Mr Weasley was trying desperately to pin him to the ground, and Ginny had gone to get help.

Harry heard a gasp and saw that Hermione had crept over to his side, shaking with emotion. "It's okay, it's okay," he reassured her, reaching out to hug and comfort his friend, sounding tougher than he felt.

"Y-you almost d-died …" Hermione whispered, and Harry saw with a pang in his heart that she too was injured; she had cuts and bruises where parts of the door had hit her. 

Hermione looked up and saw Wimple twisting around on the ground, tearing at his hair. "Don't look," Harry warned.

It indeed was a sight too grotesque to behold. Wimple was frothing in the mouth like an animal with rabies, his eyes were rolling back behind his eyelids, and his back was arching and squirming in anguish. 

"Get back!" Mr Weasley roared at Ron, his wand over Wimple. "Harry, you alive?"

"Yeah," Harry replied weakly. "Though only just."

"GILBERT!" Mr Weasley roared. "GET A GRIP ON YOURSELF!"

"I can't … I CAN'T!" Wimple moaned, blood streaming from his forehead where he had smashed it against the door in an attempt to black himself out. "Please … somebody help … me …"

"Help will be on its way, Gilbert," Mr Weasley assured. Harry had never seen him look so shaken. He tried using a Body-bind hex on Wimple, only to have it rebound back and narrowly missed Ron.

"D-don't bother," Wimple managed to articulate. "I've – I've disobeyed the Dark Lord, and now I-I have to pay …"

Harry could hear Ron and Hermione gasp in surprise.

"WHAT?" Mr Weasley roared. "YOU-KNOW-WHO? Tell me, Gilbert, please tell me what's going on …"

But the man shook his head. "No … it's-it's too l-late," he wheezed. Than his whole body seemed to jerk up, and for a moment, Wimple's attack seemed to have stopped. He looked over to Harry, and a brief flash of remorse crossed his face.

"Potter …" he said, as though each word was causing him great pain. "Potter, I'm sorry." Then his pupils rolled back into his head and he flopped down on the ground flaccidly.

Just then, before anyone could react, Ginny rushed into the room, two ministry officials at her heels. "Where's Wimple?" One of them barked, wand at the ready.

Mr Weasley was kneeling next to Gilbert Wimple's still body. He took the man's pulse and stood up, his face ashen. "Too late," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "Gilbert's dead."

It was a subdued group that made their way back to Ottery St Catchpole. The Ministry, bewildered and shocked at what had happened, had provided them with lunch (in which no one ate much), before sending a car to transport the five weary wizards back home. Mr Weasley drove without a word, still stunned at the horrifying events of that morning, while Ginny and Ron had an uneasy conversation about the weather. Harry and Hermione just sat in silence, clutching extra-large blocks of chocolate. They had both been fixed up pretty well by the Ministry's nurses.

Mrs Weasley almost fainted in distress when she heard of what had happened. She sent all of them straight to bed, saying they could lie down for as long as they pleased. Harry and Ron both trooped to their room heavily; Ron falling asleep the moment his head touched the pillow. Harry, on the other head, felt like he could never close his eyes and put his trust on the world again. He looked at the Mirror of Doom on his bedside table, thinking it might help him sort out his confused feelings; but instead all he saw was a pale, exhausted boy with large unblinking eyes and big bags beneath them. The image haunted him; he looked like he had just been through World War Three. And in a way, he had.

Harry flopped down onto his bed, feeling like his whole body was made of lead. All he wanted to do now was rest … and forget … forget everything that had happened to him and to those he cared for.

He laid there for hours, trying to sleep, yet every time he closed his eyes he could feel icy cold hands tearing at his neck, hear a crackling laugh mock his every move, and see red bloodshot eyes glaring at him. He tried to calm himself down by listening to the rhythmic sound of Ron's light breathing, but after a while even that seemed to sound like growling. 

Finally, out of desperation, Harry hurled himself out of bed. If he were to spend another minute lying there contemplating the roof patterns, he felt that he would lose his sanity. He trudged gloomily down the stairs like a zombie, not exactly knowing where to go and more importantly, what to do.

He welcomed the fact that Ginny was there on the third landing when he arrived. Her large brown eyes bore into his, and without a word, she put her arms around him and hugged him like her life depended on it. Harry was quite taken aback, but he hugged her too, and to his surprise, felt that much better inside.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" Ginny asked.  "Mum … mum said for us to rest, but - only I think it would be better to get some fresh air."

Harry nodded without a word. It was better than being cooped up in his room anyway, and besides, he needed the company.

They strolled along the park just across the house, enjoying the fresh crisp air of the evening. It was a relaxing place, with a duck pond and benches to sit on. Ginny sat on the edge of the pond and let her long, slim legs run through the water.  Harry sat down next to her, and relished the air of tranquillity around them. Here, amongst the crooning bird and the creaking insects, words were not necessary. There was a sort of mutual understanding between them now; it had been there ever since the incident at the Ministry of Magic. Ginny understood, she had been through what he had …

And yet, Harry reminded himself, she had been hurt and frightened because of him. All the horrors that his friends had went through would not have been necessary if he wasn't there. It pained him to see Ron pale and speechless for once, Hermione bandaged up like a mummy, and to see Ginny look so haunted. She hadn't appeared so lost ever since her experience in the Chamber of Secrets; and in a way, that had been Harry's fault too.

"You mustn't blame yourself, you know …" Ginny began, as though she could read his mind. "Wimple was a Death Eater, he deserved to die."

Harry shook his head despondently. He wanted to explain to someone – anyone - the feeling he had inside, that feeling of being responsible for everything bad that had happened. And yet … he was afraid.

"Harry …" Ginny began again. She looked uncomfortable. "Harry, if there's anything wrong, you can tell me, it's no good cooping it up inside." She turned her head to look him square in the eye, and for the first time, Harry realised just how much Ginny had changed ever since the last time he had saw her.

That petite, innocent, ten-year-old little girl at the train station, who had so longed to see him – compared to this fourteen-year-old teenager, with long flowing hair the colour of wine, and graceful limbs … Ginny was going to be gorgeous, there was no doubt about that. She was like a porcelain doll, beautifully crafted, and yet so very fragile …

Hermione was beautiful too, though not in the same way as Ginny. Hermione had this brilliant sense of confidence and intelligence inside her that made her unique. He remembered the way she had blushed when she had pecked him on the cheek at the train station when his fourth school year had ended. That aura of power around her, that delightful kindness and loyalty … she was every bit as beautiful as Ginny.

He stared at his likeness in the pond, and was started when a drop of water disturbed its shimmering surface and broke the picturesque reflection into a million pieces. The drop of water had come from Ginny's face; she was tearing.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny whispered softly, and brought a long slender hand up to stroke his cheek lovingly. Harry immediately felt his face heat up, and his whole body turn numb with surprise. What was Ginny doing? Why was she looking at him like that?

She leaned forward; face lifted towards his, and brought her lips closer … her large pleading eyes looked so desperate, so hungry for love -

Their nose touched, and –

He couldn't do it. Harry pushed her away gently, yet firmly. He couldn't kiss her. Sure, he liked her as a friend, but not any more than that … how could he have given her that impression?

Harry jumped up from the ledge, heart pounding madly, and turned abruptly to go. He caught the hurt look in Ginny's eyes, but what could he have said? I'm sorry, Ginny, but I don't like you … please don't try and kiss me?

Harry ran blindly, not daring to turn around and see Ginny's reaction. She didn't try to follow or stop him. He ran the rest of the way back to the Burrow, to his room, still trying to catch his breath. Ron was awake, sitting on the edge of his bed, with tousled hair and puffy eyes. He stifled a yawn as he pulled on a sock and said, "Oh Harry, where were you? You're sweating all over. What happened?"

What could he have said? Oh, nothing, just the usual, you know. Your sister and I went away on our own little private rendezvous, she tried to kiss me, and I rejected her and ran back here. Regular stuff.

"Nothing." Harry lied. "I went for a little jog. Ran out of breath."

He wondered where Ginny was. He shouldn't have been so rude. He still wanted to be friends, after all. What if Ginny got so hurt she jumped into the pond? Then it would be his fault, as it always was …

He flopped back down onto bed, pulled the covers over his head, and got down to feeling really, really guilty.

***

That night, lying in bed, Harry stared up at the ceiling blankly, thinking over the day's events. He thought of poor Ginny, and how she must have felt that evening. He had experienced rejection too, last year when Cho had went to the Yule ball with Cedric Diggory.  

No, he thought sharply. Don't think of Cedric. Don't think of his unblinking eyes and his sobbing parents and that bright flash of green light …

In the end he decided to go downstairs for a cup of coffee. Caffeine was a good way to soothe, if not, numb the nerves. If that didn't work, then he would have to get some sleeping draught. On his way down the second landing, however, he heard raised voices down the staircase. Harry paused cautiously, and listened. It seemed that Mr and Mrs Weasley were having a fight. He hated to eavesdrop, but in the end his curiosity got the better of him, and he stayed in the shadows, bracing himself. The last time he had heard something from the couple, he had learnt that his godfather was out to murder him. 

"But Molly," Mr Weasley was saying, sounding very exasperated, "how was I to know that an angry Death Eater was plotting to assassinate Harry?"

"I don't care," his wife replied hotly. "You should have been able to protect him somehow. Instead, you choose to hang back and watch while that – that Death Eater almost squeezed the life out of the poor boy. You are a full-qualified, grown-up wizard, Arthur!"

"I couldn't do anything, Molly, anything at all! I had to help Hermione too …"

"Don't even get me started on Hermione! That poor girl, volunteering to help you out at the Office, but ending up, instead, with five stitches! I thought you promised you would be careful!"

There was a pregnant pause, then came the soft, unmistakable sound of sobbing. 

"And I thought we would be safe …but now it's happening all over again. Harry could have been injured; he could have been taken to You-Know-Who, or worse – killed …" Mrs Weasley blew her nose loudly.

"Molly, dear, please don't cry … Harry's alright, and we're all going to be just fine -"

"It's just that whenever something like this happens, I can't stop thinking of Danny … can't help thinking how if we had been more careful, she would still have been here -"

"What happened to Danny wasn't our fault …"

Harry made his way downstairs for his coffee, not staying to hear more. He had had enough depressing thoughts for the day; and now he knew that some girl called Danny, whom the Weasleys knew well, had been a victim of Voldemort's as well. It looked like it would have to be the sleeping draught after all.

***

The rest of the holidays past in an uneventful blur. Harry spent his days practicing Quidditch with the twins and Ron, and occasionally Hermione joined in as well, thought soon it became evident that she was never quite destined to be on a racing broom. On two particular nasty incidents Mr Weasley and Harry had to rescue her from tall, branchy trees. Ginny always sat at the edge of the moor and watched them with an amused expression on her face; she never spoke a word to Harry, and he still found it hard to look her in the eye.

They went to Diagon Alley to get all their schoolbooks a week before school, and spent hours in Flourish and Blotts, waiting for Hermione to finish selecting her extra books for the year, all twenty-seven of them. Ron made a reluctant visit to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, to get a new pair of dress robes (the Hogwarts list had said that they would be needing them again this year). Already his old laced maroon one was only coming up to his knees. In the end they managed to find a nice, sensible, lace-free one in a humble blue colour.

Before anyone knew it, the holidays were over in a jiffy. Harry woke up to that day with mixed feelings; he hated leaving the Burrow, yet the thought of being at Hogwarts again was enough to make him jump for joy.

In no time at all they were saying their goodbyes to Mr and Mrs Weasley at Platform Nine and Three Quarters. The scarlet Hogwarts Express was brimming with students, anxious parents, and their various luggage and pets. Ginny bounded off to find her friends, leaving Hermione, Ron and Harry to find a vacant carriage. Hermione turned to face them, red in the face.

"I've got to go now, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves." At her words Ron frowned and visibly started fuming. Hermione shot them both an apologetic look. "I'll be back soon, I'd just go see who else is there. Save me a seat, okay?" Then she was gone.

Ron kicked his suitcase into a carriage; not caring if anything was broken. "Prefect this, prefect that," he exclaimed angrily. "She doesn't even bloody care about us any more."

"Don't be silly, of course she does," Harry tried desperately to explain. "It's her duty, as a prefect, to do what she does." Ron scoffed at this comment as he sat down. 

The Hogwarts Express started to move away from the platform. Harry and Ron waved to Mr and Mrs Weasley from the window; both of them looked quite worried. Harry remembered the fight they had had the other day.

"Do you know anyone called Danny?" he asked Ron.

"Who?" Ron didn't seem to have a clue.

"Never mind," Harry said. Danny was probably some distant relative or old friend.

Ginny came in a little while afterwards, deciding to join them after all, followed by Hermione, who had already changed into her school robes, her prefect badge glinting brightly.

"You'll never guess who the other fifth-year Gryffindor prefect is!" she gushed.

"Who?" Harry, Ron and Ginny asked in unison.

"Neville!" Hermione beamed. "He's so happy, can hardly believe it. The other boys are not so pleased, though."  Harry smiled, remembering poor Frank Longbottom and his wife at St Mungo's. They would have been proud of their son. 

"Padma Patil and Terry Boot are the Ravenclaw fifth-year prefects, while the Hufflepuff prefects are Hannah Abbot and Justin Finch-Fletchley." Hermione continued, then screwed up her face in disgust. "Slytherin prefects were Blaise Zabini, and Malfoy."

"WHAT?" Harry, Ron and Ginny yelled simultaneously again. "You're kidding."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not," she confirmed, "though I wish I were. You should have seen that arrogant look on his face – I bet that now he's a prefect he's going to go around taking away house points from Gryffindors for breathing."

"Great, just what I need – Malfoy to shove his silly badge in my face," Ron fumed. "How the hell did he get chosen?"

"Snape, remember?" Ginny said grimly. "He totally adores Malfoy, the stupid git."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "One of these days, that Malfoy is going to come to a sticky end, that stuck-up twit -"

"You would do better than to call me that, you filthy little Mudblood," a high, drawling voice sneered from the carriage door. Four heads whipped around to stare angrily at him. Draco Malfoy was standing erect at the door as though he owned the train. His lieutenants, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle cracked their knuckles menacingly behind him.

Harry felt a flash of anger hit him. He stood up, wand outstretched, and barked, "Don't you dare call her that, Malfoy!"

"Touché," remarked Malfoy, undaunted. "Defending your girlfriend, eh, Potter? I read about that little incident at the Ministry of Magic. What a pity that Death Eater didn't finish you and Mudblood off, it would have saved us so much time and bother … I expect Krum would have been most upset though, despite his girlfriend being such a slut …"

Ron made to rush at Malfoy and do something drastic, but Ginny pulled him back with a look of warning. Hermione stood very still, looking eerily calm, but a tinge of red was slowly creeping up her neck, and she was fingering her wand.

"Say that again, Malfoy," she said quietly.

"Why, with pleasure. Granger the slut, Granger the slut, Granger the -"

Draco Malfoy never got to finish his sentence. A loud BANG was heard; there was a cloud of purple smoke that momentarily blinded everyone, and a scream echoed throughout the carriage. The mist cleared to find Draco Malfoy on the ground, lifeless and with empty eyes staring upwards. Crabbe and Goyle looked at their friend with horror, then turned and fled. Malfoy remained still.

"OMIGOD, I'VE KILLED HIM!" Hermione yelled frantically, staring at her wand as though she thought it had sprouted spaghetti.

Ron and Harry stood, too stunned to do anything, while Hermione ran over to Malfoy, perhaps to perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation on her arch nemesis.

"I've killed Malfoy, oh, I've killed Malfoy," she exclaimed in terror, cawing at her face in distress. Ginny, who had taken a course on wizarding first aid, made her way to Malfoy calmly and examined his pulse.

"He's not dead," she announced to everyone, and Hermione slumped onto the ground weakly, muttering "Thank goodness."

"He's not dead?" Ron asked with mixed feelings, finally recovering his voice. "But his – his eyes are wide open and he's not moving and everything -"

Harry cringed inwardly, trying not to stare into Malfoy's unblinking eyes. Do not think of Cedric; do not think of Cedric, he repeated mentally to himself.

Ginny shook her head at Ron. "No, he's only been knocked out. But I've no idea why his eyes are open. Hermione, what exactly did you cast on him?"

Hermione looked at her wand in puzzlement. "I was so angry … wait a second – I didn't cast anything at all!"

Ginny looked at her brother questioningly. "It wasn't me, I swear it wasn't," Ron answered.

"Not me either," Harry said, though he had a twinge of doubt in his mind. Did he do something involuntarily with his Nonwander powers?

"Then who did it?" Hermione asked perplexedly.

"I did," a voice rang out from behind them. A tall, long-faced woman made her way forward, clad in teal-coloured robes. She shot a jagged look at Hermione, making the latter cringe and look away in unease.

"Hermione Granger, is it not?" The woman asked briskly, with an air of authority. She had sharp, intense eyes of a grey colour. Her dark hair contrasted deeply with her pale skin, reminding Harry of a Banshee, though he had never really seen one in the flesh. 

"Ye-yes," Hermione said hesitantly, as though worried about revealing her identity. "I, er-"

The woman shook her head. "I heard everything, Miss Granger. That," and here she pointed an almost shaking finger at Malfoy, "That son of a bitch deserved to be Petrified. Unfortunately I have neither guts nor the supremacy to cast an Unforgivable curse on him."   

Harry and Ron gaped at the woman, stunned at her choice of words, and at the passion with which she delivered them. Harry remembered dimly, with a fresh pang in his heart, Professor Dumbledore checking the Petrified body of Miss Norris, the caretaker's cat in his second year. He had remarked that Petrification would have required 'dark magic of the most advanced'.

"For goodness sake, don't glare at me like that." Banshee-Woman said casually. "I'm Professor Pennymore, your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Oh, Harry sighed with relief. That explains a lot. No wonder she seems to know a lot of Dark Magic.

Ron stepped forward cautiously. "Professor, is – is Malfoy okay?"

Ron wondering about Malfoy's health. Now I've seen everything, Harry thought, but didn't dare say that to his best friend.

"I assure you that he is fine, Mr Weasley," Professor Pennymore said. "And I don't need mandrake roots to revive him." She bent over Malfoy, and whispered some inaudible words into his ear. Draco straightened up immediately, eyes blinking, trying to make sense of what had just happened. 

"What the fudge?" he spat, brushing himself as he leapt up and fixed a furious glare at Pennymore.

"You were being an absolute prick," she said evenly, "and I Petrified you before anyone else caught the urge to have you disembowelled."

"WHAT?" Malfoy yelled in anger, losing control of himself for once. 'You what? Who the hell do you think you are? My father will have you put in court for that, you -"

"Your father would not so much as bat an eyelid at me, Mister Malfoy, though I assure you he would not be pleased by this unacceptable behaviour of yours. And neither will your Head of House, once I inform him of this -"

By this time, Draco Malfoy and Professor Pennymore were raising their voices for the whole train to hear. Each were glaring at each other through narrowed eyes and flushed cheeks.

"What is going on here?" A familiar voice, icy and filled with menace, sliced through the air, and immediate silence followed. Severus Snape appeared from the doorway, hair as greasy and face as sallow as ever. Harry groaned inwardly, waiting for Snape to make some sarcastic remarks and deduct points from Gryffindor without hesitation, but the Potions Master took no notice of him or his friends. Snape was staring at Professor Pennymore, his black beady eyes as thin as silts. The expression on his face was a mixture of understanding and wariness.  

Malfoy took up the opportunity to lap up to his favourite teacher. "She," and Draco pointed an accusing finger at Pennymore in his most woe-be-gone manner, "Petrified me and called me a prick for good measure."

"This boy here called Miss Granger a Mudblood, and some other not so nice things as well." Pennymore said quickly. "I was simply trying to calm him down."

Harry had expected Snape to scoff and bark at Professor Pennymore, but instead the Slytherin Head of House eyed his colleague from top to toe with a most peculiar expression on his face. "So we've met again, Julia," he said simply.

"I'm afraid so, Professor Snape," Pennymore replied, her voice lined with dislike. "I suggest you give Mr Malfoy a lecture here about the equality of everyone in the wizarding community, regardless of hereditary. I believe an apology to Miss Granger is also in order."

This time Snape did scoff. "Draco has been provoked," he said offhandedly. "Miss Granger should be the one to apologise."

Malfoy beamed with triumphant, while Hermione glowered angrily at the both of them.

"That's not fair, Professor," Harry said between gritted teeth. "She didn't call anyone a filthy Mudblood -"

"TEN POINTS OFF GRYFFINDOR, POTTER!" Snape yelled without hesitation. The four Gryffindors in the room shot him daggers.

Professor Pennymore frowned. "I see no point in taking away house points before the term has even started," she reasoned. "If ten points is taken off Gryffindor then I propose Slytherin receive the equal treatment. After all, Malfoy here has misbehaved as well, moreover, he seems to be a prefect -"

Snape's face darkened. "You haven't changed, have you, Julia? Still carrying on with those "I see's" and "I propose's", still holding onto those same old biased feelings about Slytherin …"

"You're one to speak," Pennymore replied evenly, in a tone that meant clearly that she was having no more of their conversation. "Then I would rather have no points deducted from any houses at all. Good day, Professor." And with that, she marched out of the room, face held high and looking composed once more. Snape glared after her, then put his hand on Malfoy's shoulder in a fatherly fashion, and without any further ado, whisked him along out of the carriage as well.

"What was that about?" Ginny was the first to voice her feelings. "Did you see the way Snape looked at Professor Pennymore?"

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Talk about old feuds; distance certainly hasn't made the heart grown fonder for those two."

Hermione was looking most wistful. "She knew everyone's name, even though she was new. And she used Dark Magic! Even Snape's smart enough not to attempt that!"

"The Professor was using it on Malfoy, therefore I have no objections." Harry said with satisfaction. It had amused him greatly to see Malfoy stumped for once.

"She was breaking serious law," Hermione said severely. "Being a Hogwarts professor doesn't give her the prerogative to use Dark spells! Doesn't she know the rules -" She was cut off rudely by Ron, who turned to her with a look of ferocity no one knew he had.

"Rules, rules, rules!" Ron spat bitterly. "Is that all you care about? Your stupid bloody policies and conventions? What happened to the old Hermione I knew?"

Hermione's face darkened. "Ron, what's up with you -"

"What's up with you? You're a total mess! I'll have you know that there are things are more important than rules and regulations, such as decency, and loyalty, and friends!" He yelled the last word in her face.

And Hermione slapped Ron.

It happened in one fast, swift movement, with a sound like the crack of a whip, and Ron ran his hand over his face, dark eyes flashing in surprise, over the crimson, hand-shaped mark that burned into his left cheek.

"You're right," Hermione said quietly, "I am a mess."  She turned and ran out of the carriage without another word, leaving Harry, Ginny and Ron standing in total shock.

Ginny turned to Ron, stuck between getting angry at him, and worrying about the mark on his face. "What d'you do that for? Are you okay?"

Harry patted his friend on the shoulder grimly, then made his way after Hermione, hoping she wasn't about to throw herself out of a train window, or do something equally drastic.

He came to last carriage in the train, not having seen Hermione anyway, when he heard soft whispering coming from under a seat.

"There are things that are more important than rules and regulations, such as decency, and loyalty, and friends …"

Hermione was huddled up underneath the seat, legs tucked up to her chin, rocking back and forth with a forlorn face. At first Harry thought she might be crying, but her face was dry. Harry realised now that in the five years that he had known Hermione, he had never seen her cry; not even when she had been hurt at the Ministry of Magic; she was too proud for that.

"Hermione?" he said delicately, squeezing down next to her, not knowing how to comfort her.

She turned to him slowly and asked thoughtfully, as though contemplating a problem in Arithmancy. "Harry, what went wrong?"

"With what, 'Mione?"

"With me! Everything I do is wrong!" she looked at him miserably, her lips trembling, now that the emotion was finally being able to be released and let off her chest. "What went wrong with me?"

Harry felt a pang in his heart. No one deserved to feel as though something was wrong with themselves. Not even Draco Malfoy. He had never felt like that about himself in particular, but lately, what with all that was going on, he had certainly felt like everything was his fault …

"Being smart is terrible sometimes …" Hermione said softly. "People assume that you're just a set of brains, just a walking encyclopaedia … they judge you before they even know you … and it hurts …"

"I've never done that. Neither has Ginny or Ron. We're your true friends." Harry said firmly. "Give Ron some time, I'm sure he didn't mean what he said …"

"Oh, but he did!" Hermione moaned. Harry sneaked a look at her face. Not a tear was in sight. Somehow, that worried him more than if she had been bawling her eyes out. It unnerved him that Hermione seemed to have forgotten how to cry.

"He was looking so angry, like he didn't want to be my friend any more … and I was confused, I don't know why I slapped him now. It's like someone else took over, you know what I mean?" Hermione sighed. "And he's been all rigid about me being a prefect, oh, what is wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you!" Harry said fiercely, enclosing both of her hands with his and putting them to his heart in earnest. "You're one of the most wonderful persons I've ever met! You're so kind, and honest, and loyal, and brilliant, and beautiful -"

Hermione looked at him shyly. "And beautiful?" she asked gently, feeling his heart beat against her hands.

"And beautiful," he confirmed. 

For a moment they looked at each other in silence, then Hermione laughed heartily, reached over and hugged him with all her strength.

"Thanks," she said, all the grief and misery gone from her voice. "I think you're beautiful too." 

Then they let go and leant on each other's shoulder contentedly, hands still intertwined.

"Thanks for cheering me up, Harry," Hermione said. "You know, sometimes I feel the world is coming to an end …"

"And then you feel it's just beginning …" Harry finished for her.

"Yes!" Hermione said eagerly. "I've never told you this, but that day we went through the trapdoor for the Philosopher's Stone, back in first year, that was one of the happiest day of my life."

"Really? Why?"

"It's hard to explain, but I just knew it was. I didn't feel happy while we were chasing Quirrell, of course, quite the contrary, but afterwards … it was like a whole new beginning, like I've just realised who I was, just came out. Do you still remembered what I said to you just before you were about to head off through the flames and we were separating?"

"Of course: Books! And cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery … How could I forget? We've been through so much, you and Ron and I. Don't let this beautiful friendship fade away, Hermione. You two are the closest I've got."

"I'll never fade away, Harry. Never."

***

A/N: Hehe, a bit of torture for all the shippers. Harry rejects and breaks poor Ginny's heart, Hermione wounds Ron, and then Harry and Hermione hug but don't do anything romantic. I don't like romance when it just comes straight out and hits you on the head. For me, any fic with fourteen-year-olds kissing passionately and doing other stuff is always a bit unrealistic and disturbing (no offence to anyone out there though, it's just my opinion). There's always got to be complications first, and then maybe gradually something will happen …

Since it's holidays right now I should have more time to work on the next chapter. It may be out within a couple of weeks, it may not. Depends on how much homework I have to complete *winces*, and how busy I will be. I'll try my best, though. ^^