AN: Dun da dun…the long awaited chapter eight. Oh well, chapter seven wasn't a pivotal chapter. So sue me. Btw, this has happened to me before. Not these events as they are seen here, but as a whole, I've had this happen to me. Believe me, it sucks. K? K. Well, here goes. (Watch my head spin…hehe in the game, when you see Quirrell, he literally turns his head around and then that's when you see Voldemort. Hehe, the exorcist. And you know what else? It's pathetic, but the evil game is closer to the book than the movie…)

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns this, not me, won't now, won't ever. Blah mimp.

Chapter Eight: But It All Comes Back To Me In The End

Harry sat up, and Hermione pushed herself off of him, sitting next to him. They both got up rather quickly, and turned around to see who it was.

"Tut tut, Granger, for being a Prefect, you certainly haven't got much decency."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Jealous, Malfoy?" he spat.

"Me? Never. Not by a Mudblood, at the very least…" His eyes twinkled. "…must be an easy girl, eh? Book smart, naïve, very easy lay," he continued.

Hermione's face grew redder and redder with every word he said. "What would you know Malfoy? Lost your touch on spying on people?"

Malfoy laughed. "Mudblood," he said, "you have lost your touch. What, no complementary slap? What happened to your fire?" He reached out his hand curled his finger around her chin.

Harry, without even realizing it, drew back and punched Malfoy across the face. "Don't lay a finger on her," he said menacingly.

He held his hand against his face, covering up his nose, which had begun to bleed freely. "Bastard," said Malfoy darkly.

Harry stepped in front of Hermione, who had her hands over her face, her eyes peeking out of the darkness within. "Harry, stop!" she shrieked. "You'll get expelled!"

Malfoy covered his face even still. "Potter, you will regret the day you crossed me," he said, and walked away.

Hermione and Harry went to Transfiguration, but they didn't pay attention. Hermione looked constantly on the verge of tears and Harry couldn't stop clenching his knuckles until they were pure white. Hermione, miraculously, turned her frog into a tin can, but Harry's kept making a noise when he closed it.

The two rushed to the Infirmary afterward, curious to see how Ron was up to. They arrived there, but heard unusual voices from inside.

"Please, Headmaster, I haven't a clue who performed this kind of advanced spell," Snape was saying, slick as ever.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "This curse is only second to that of the Imperius Curse. Amazing, how someone managed it. Never was quite as useful as the Imperius Curse, unless you knew what the person would do." The was a hint of amusement in his voice.

Harry glanced at Hermione, who was listening intensely. She put a finger to her lips, indicating for him to be quiet. He nodded.

"Who would know what Weasley would do?" Snape asked finally.

"Someone with a keen observation," Dumbledore replied. Harry heard shuffling. "Professor Bulwark, do you know the counter-curse to the Inperius Curse?"

"Yes, Headmaster," he replied, pulling out his wand. "Trituctus Perfectus!"

There was a spray of green light and then they heard Ron wake up.

'The Inperius Curse,' Harry thought. 'I will have to do some reading up tonight.' He glanced around the corner, and saw the Ron was sitting up, obviously bewildered about his whereabouts. "Why am I in the Infirmary?" he asked, looking from professor to professor.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Mr. Weasley, do you know what happened to you?"

Ron shook his head. "I can't remember anything past talking to Hermione. The last thing I remember was her asking me if I was alright, for some reason." Ron turned his head sideways. "Anything wrong, Professor Dumbledore? Did I do something?"

"No, no, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore replied. His eyes look weary, and his back was slightly slouched. "I was just wondering, that's all."

Ron grinned hesitantly. "Well, Professor, may I leave now?"

Dumbledore looked up at him. "Yes, of course, as long as it's okay with Madam Pomfrey." He turned to her.

"He's alright—" she started, and Ron let out a small yelp of joy, "but he needs his rest," she protested.

Ron shook his head. "I'm quite alright, Madam Pomfrey. Really," he added, observing the doubtful look on her face.

She put the back of her hand on his cheek, "You're not clammy anymore, and—" she paused. Shrugging, she moved out of the way. "Go," she finally said.

Ron's grin grew wider. "Thanks!" he said, hopping out of the bed.

"Mr. Weasley," a cold voice said behind him, "we shan't expect you here anymore about this. And if you can remember who did this to you, he will surely be expelled."

Ron looked slowly at Snape. Ron narrowed his eyes. It seems that Snape has already made his decision already. With that, Snape turned on his heel and left.

Harry figured this was as good time as any to barge in, before Ron landed himself a detention. "Ron!"

Ron turned. "Harry! Hermione!"

Hermione hung back. Harry ran up to him. Ron smiled. "Harry, I've got a lot to tell you--"

"We know," Harry said quietly. "We overheard."

The other teachers filed out of the room, and Hermione walked slowly up to Ron. He looked at her, and blushed.

"Ron, I've read about the Inperius Curse," she said quietly. "It is a curse that acts on one's id. Not only that, but they remember what happened afterward. You lied to the headmaster."

Ron's face flushed even more, the red creeping up on his ears. "What was I supposed to say, Hermione? I don't want to look like a moron in front of Dumbledore, and to a lesser extent, Snape."

"They know you lied, Ron," she continued. "And for that, it made you look even more like a idiot."

Harry put his arms between the two of them as if to separate this verbal disagreement. "Ron, Hermione, calm down," he said slowly.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Exactly my point. Was everything you did truly on your id?"

Harry glared at her. She was purposely getting Ron angry.

"Back off, Hermione," said Harry quietly. "This will get neither of you anywhere."

Hermione turned on her heel. "I've got studying in the library to get to. Good bye," she said haughtily.

"Good bye," Ron spat, clenching his fists. Hermione ignored him and continued to walk away in a huff.

When Hermione had left, Ron was fuming. "That insensitive prat, the way she thinks that she's better than everyone else just because she has no life and spends all her time in those damn books of hers…" Ron ranted, seething with anger. "She's got no right telling me off like that."

Harry was quiet for a moment. "Ron," he said at last, "you put the moves on her. If no one interfered, I doubt that Hermione would be…" he lingered off, not wishing to finish the sentence. "You like her, don't you?"

Ron looked at Harry with widened eyes. "What?!" he exclaimed. "How could you say that? She's my best friend. I don't like her…. Is it obvious?"

Harry shook his head. "You do know what your id is, don't you?"

Ron turned his head sideways. "Erm, ah, no…"

Harry restrained his laughter. "Your id is the part of your brain that has its impulses. You know, like when you're on a diet and all you want to do is eat cake? The part that says 'eat the cake' is your id. Your, erm, ego, keeps your id in check. That's the part that says, 'I'm on a diet, I can't.'"

Ron nodded. "Oh…" He looked sheepish, and still confused.

Harry laughed. "Hey, Ron," he said, slapping him on his back. "You know how to get 'em, at the very least…"

"Shut up, Harry," he said, smiling. "I probably ought to apologize. She went to the library, right?"

"I…think so."

"See you later, then," he said. "'Bye."

"See you, Ron," Harry replied.

Harry, much later, was reading A Guide to Transfiguration: What you need to know for your O.W.L.s when the portrait to the Gryfindor common room opened.

"Ron? That you?" Harry said, putting down the book. He sat up, and realized everyone had gone to bed. Looking around, he realized he was alone in the common room. 'How could it be so late already?' he thought, grinning to himself. He had gotten lost in a schoolbook. How…Hermione- like.

"Ron?" he asked again, this time much quieter. He stood and walked over to the entrance. He looked around, and saw that Ron, white-faced, was leaning against the wall. He was trying to fight tears.

"Ron…what happened?" Harry asked slowly. Ron, whose face had begun to creep into a blush, turned to Harry.

"Nothing Harry," he said quietly. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed." He brushed past Harry and walked over to the staircase leading to the boys' dormitory.

"You can tell me when you're ready," Harry said, standing at the end of the stairs. He lifted his hands and rested them on the knob at the end of the staircase. Ron looked down at him.

"Yeah, thanks, Harry," he said, attempting to smile. "I can't, though."

Harry frowned slightly. What could be so bad that he couldn't even tell him? Harry felt a little out of the loop. "Well, good night then," he said awkwardly.

"'Night, Harry," he replied listlessly, continuing to walk upstairs.

Harry shook his head, now frowning fully. What was the matter with Ron?