A/N: I realize I have been moving ever-so quickly with this fic. My apologies. I will try to add more and slow the pace down some. A big thank you to all that have reviewed! I'm surprised I have gotten this far and not been flamed to death! ~hug~ Please enjoy this chapter, it is by far the best.

Disclaimer and that jazz: I do not own nor am I using with permission the characters and scenarios created by Ms. Rowling. They are hers and I do not wish to own them. Seeing this is a piece done out of adoration of her work, I figure that there's no problem.

When Harry woke, Draco was gone. Hermione was looking out the window, robes on and Prefect badge positioned. She looked thoughtful, so Harry put on his robes silently, making sure not to disturb her.

Harry really wasn't the one with grudges against Malfoy. Actually, he had come to the conclusion that he was in fact human. Sure, he may be a prat, but human none-the-less. It was Ron who still despised Malfoy. When Harry had dropped the actual hatred of the boy a few years back, Ron had thrown a fit. So, to keep things normal, he flung insults and fists.

The surprise of Hermione and Draco being dance partners was rating 10 on the Richter Scale. He couldn't remember how many times Malfoy had made her cry.

'Why change for someone so mean to you?' he'd thought while changing. Now, Harry the Boy Wonder was sitting on the other side of the compartment, watching his friend carefully.

"Thank you," She said softly.

"No need," Harry replied. Hermione had no need to tell him why she thanked him-he already knew. He hadn't thrown punches when Draco entered and didn't try to kill him or accuse him of bewitching her when Harry found out they danced.

'If only he knew the half of it,' Hermione thought, tears welling up in her eyes. She yawned to cover them up, only to receive a quizzical look from Harry. 'Draco,' she thought, turning farther to look out the window, 'how will we pull this off?'

'.Our last trick,' Draco thought, looking blankly at the open book in his lap. Crabbe, the obviously slower of the two who followed him was asleep. Goyle, however, watched him in an almost hawk-like manner. Draco liked Goyle better than Vincent. He wasn't completely daft, and he stayed with Draco because he wanted to. Unlike Goyle, who only did so because his father told him so.

Goyle also knew about he and Hermione.

Draco felt a surge of closeness between he and his large companion who had stumbled in on The Boy Who Lived to be There's compartment, he and Hermione were in heated and animated conversation on the subject of their Muggle dancing game. Goyle didn't blink twice when Draco pecked her on the cheek before exiting. Instead, he merely chuckled and shook his head, saying, "Malfoy, mate, you and your little romanticism will be the end of you. Be lucky I was not Crabbe."

"Stop looking at me like that, Greg," Draco said quietly, shutting his book. "Don't judge me."

Goyle nodded and folded his clothes; they were close to Hogsmead.

The train came to a slower pace and Ron left his and Blaise's compartment and walked with a lighter step to Harry and Hermione's cabin.

Entering the small room was like entering a morgue to Ron. The silence was almost deafening. Then again, it could have just been because he was used to the noise that surrounded the area. By now, they would be just finishing a game of Exploding Snap and the giggling would echo through the narrow hall.

Instead, he received a frightened look from Harry and a milder look of coldness from Hermione. Why were they like this? 'Oh, that's right,' he answered his own question in his head. 'I'm gay, remember?' Ron bit his lip. 'Why do things have to be different?'

The others apparently weren't thinking the same.

"Get out, Ron," Harry said shakily. "You frighten me."

Ron felt on the verge of tears. Harry-the man he'd been lusting after for so long-wanted nothing to do with him, a very un-Harry-like thing of Harry to do.

Hermione kept looking at him in that icy way. It sent chills down his spine just thinking about it. 'It's not my fault you dance with a prat, you wench,' Ron thought bitterly. He really didn't think her a wench. But, anyone who associated with Draco Malfoy....Take Pansy as an example.

Nothing happened much after that. The staring continued as the train stopped and children from First to Seventh years passed by. Hermione shouldered by him, making her way out so she could calm the First years and instruct them what to do.

That left Harry and Ron. Ron looked down shamefully as Harry grunted, picked up his bag full of books and left the compartment as well. Ron saw now: He was alone. 'At least I still have Blaise,' he thought, remembering his boyfriend. The soft touch reserved only for Ron. Blaise cared for him, which was all that mattered.

Slowly, he turned and exited the train with the others of the Upper years and tried to find Blaise.

A hand laid itself on Ron's shoulder and he spun around, only to fall into the arms of his lover. Blaise's sent overwhelmed Ron and he breathed in the aroma of spices and pumpkin and looked into the dark, mysterious deep blue eyes and greeted him with a smile.

Ron followed Blaise to a horseless carriage. They sat in comfortable silence, hand in hand the way to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement of being back with friends from all over the countries of Ireland and Great Britain. Ginny was excited to be back, next to Harry.

Over the summer, they had become close. She no longer dreamed of being the object of his desire. No, she just wanted to be his friend. She had come to realize that Harry wanted the same and that made her happy. They had tried to date over the summer, but that didn't work out too well.

Ginny was also the one to keep Ron away from Harry. Since Ron came out of the closet, so to speak, he went wild trying to get Harry.

Being Harry's best friend at the time, Ron should have realized how homophobic Harry was. 'Silly Ron,' Ginny mused as she looked at her brother at the other end of the table, talking with Neville. She was glad her brother kept friends. Then again, she wasn't so sure about Neville's sanity.

A hush fell over the hall as the doors flew open and Professor Snape entered, a small figure cloaked in deep, midnight blue following him to the Head Table.

Ginny was wondering frantically what was going on. Why would anyone with an ounce of dignity follow someone who must reek from not bathing? 'Well,' Ginny mused to herself, 'he could just not condition correctly. That causes strange things to happen to your hair.'

Then, Professor McGonagall walked to the front of the Hall, followed by a trail of squirming First Years. The Sorting Hat in its patched glory sprung alive to sing its song.

"Amuckband, Curtis," Minerva McGonagall said, holding up the parchment as she had done many dozen times before.

The scared-to-death First Year walked up to the three-legged stool and sat down, the hat was plopped on his head.

"Hufflepuff!" The Sorting Hat yelled. Cheers rose from the Hufflepuff table as Curtis took his seat.

"Buckman, Alison," Professor McGonagall continued.

Ginny couldn't help but stare at the new figure. She'd removed her hood to reveal smooth, porcelain skin and small but somewhat pointed ears, like the elves of fairy tales were described. Her soft green eyes locked with Ginny's blue ones. The figure smiled tightly, only to look at Snape and clap politely as the next student took their place at their House table.

"Gryfindor!" the Hat yelled.

Ginny had no choice but to stand and cheer wildly with her housemates. This was a time of welcoming, not a staring contest.