Disclaimer: Do I really need to say it again?

A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews, please keep them coming. I really love reading them and knowing that someone else out there is enjoying my work. Without all of you to read it, why would I write? And if you have any complaints or suggestions on the way the storyline is going, please speak up and I will take it into serious consideration.

Drowned In Tears

Chapter 3

Appeasement

Professor Snape rose with a bundle of papers in his hands and had he worn them, this would have been the time to adjust his glasses. He cleared his throat and turned to address the Head Boy, Head Girl and the rest of the prefects who were gathered in the Prefectorium for the first Prefects Assembly of the new school year. The buzz of conversation died as Snape began to speak.

"I will assume that all of you are now at least partially familiar with the changes Headmaster Beane has implemented," said the Potions Master, throwing Hermione a pointed look. She merely smiled sweetly at him. A vein popped out in Snape's neck and a look of annoyance passed over his face, but he continued with his speech without falter.

"The purpose of this meeting is to familiarize all of you with the proper procedure for administering corporal punishment." He exchanged a small conspiratorial smile with Draco as he looked upon his favorite student. Draco chewed on a hangnail as he listened, but his eyes continued flying up to the dais where the Head Boy and Girl sat in their positions of honor with the Prefectorial Ministers. Professor McGonagall's seat was conspicuously empty.

As Snape's voice droned on about the minutiae of proper caning, Draco mulled over the council's choice of Harry for the head boy position. He honestly did not care that he hadn't been picked. What bothered the young Slytherin was that they'd chosen Harry out of...pity (that had to be it). Their poor, poor Harry had almost lost his life (yet again) during Voldemort's last attack, and he'd lost his surrogate father (in the form of Sirius Black) as well. Draco was truly sorry for Harry's loss, but it was no excuse to award him an honor that rightfully belonged to a class far beyond Harry's lowly station.

His eyes locked with Hermione's curious stare. What is that woman... er, mudblood, lollygazing at now? Draco fidgeted in his seat and quickly turned his focus back to the Professor's speech.

"...you will notice that none of the implements selected for administrative discipline may be of a circumference greater than one's thumb." Snape's gaze came to rest upon the skinny digits of Ron Weasley. "And I do mean normal human thumbs." Ron ducked to hide a scowl.

Snape straightened. " I require a volunteer," he announced, appearing to peruse the assembled prefects. "Mr. Potter." He did not turn to look at the young man he summoned.

For the second time that day, Harry found himself feeling as if he were caught in the headlights of Mr. Weasley's errant flying car. "...Sir?"

"Please, step forward."

Harry did not rise. "...Sir?"

The Potions Master glowered. "I said I needed a volunteer, Mister Potter. Are you in any way unclear that you are that volunteer?" Several students in the back of the room twittered, causing Harry's flush to deepen. The corners of Professor Snape's mouth twitched.

Harry swallowed hard. "No sir."

"Or do you, as Head Boy, feel you are exempt of my directives?"

"No sir," Harry said again.

"Very well. Please. Step. Forward." Snape inclined his eyes to an area generally regarded as front and center.

Harry slowly rose to comply.

Not again, thought Hermione, worried that Harry was close to his breaking point. Unable to understand Snape's almost obsessive need to single out Harry, she watched as he reluctantly made his way toward the chair that had walked itself to center stage following a casual wave of Professor Snape's wand.

Harry was instructed to kneel upon the chair, lean over the backrest and grab the rear legs as far down as he could. With another flourish of his wand, Snape was suddenly holding a regulation-correct willow switch. Several female prefects, including Hermione, stifled sharp intakes of breath. The professor lifted the switch high above his head then paused.

"Now," he snapped, and Harry tensed visibly, "would be the time when the required number of strokes would be administered… HERE!" Snape brought the willow switch down, stopping a mere fraction of a centimeter from Harry's tightly clenched buttocks. Having the full attention of every prefect in the room, Snape cracked an out-of-character mischievous grin and tapped the Head Boy lightly on the bottom.

"Mr. Potter, I no longer require your services. You may return to your seat."

Harry's tightly squinted eyes slowly opened in surprise with the dawning realization that Snape had been toying with him. He stood and blinked up at the professor, who said, "Oh, and one point to Gryffindor."

As Harry walked back to his seat, his eyes met Hermione's. With an exaggerated roll of her eyes she whispered, "One point. How generous."

Harry made no response except for a snort that he quickly covered up with a cough. The tension between them seemed to have eased somewhat. As Snape made a few closing remarks, Hermione watched Harry with concern. He stared intensely at the floor, indiscernible expressions flowing over his face. Hermione waited patiently for a chance to speak to him, but upon dismissal of the meeting Harry was the first out the door behind Professor Snape.

Hermione, caught in the swirling milieu of departing prefects, watched in disappointment as he disappeared out the door. She pushed past Ron, who was looking at her as if he meant to speak to her. With her hip she knocked against Padma, causing the young woman to utter an expletive, which would normally have caused Hermione to blush. The disappearing form of Harry was her only focus and so she was not aware that someone had stepped on the trailing hem of her robes. She and the person tumbled to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

Hermione groaned; her eyes tightly shut as the pain of her bruised hip spread up her back and down her left leg. She was pinned to the floor by the person who had landed atop her and when she opened her eyes she found herself gazing into a sea of stormy gray. Draco sneered down at her.

"Graceless mudblood," he muttered. She could taste his breath on her lips. 

Hermione opened her mouth to mutter a response, but before she could order Draco to remove himself from her she heard Padma hiss, "Slut." She stomped away, her heels banging loudly.

Malfoy's robes had twisted beneath Hermione and when he attempted to right himself he immediately fell back down, crushing her beneath his weight. She squeaked as the air was forced out of her.

"Get... off me... you bloody... ferret," she rasped, attempting to push the young man off. Unfortunately, her force only succeeded in shifting him into a more uncomfortable position atop her. Something, probably his wand, pressed painfully into the tender flesh of her inner left thigh.

Malfoy did not move. He only continued to look down at her, his expression as much an enigma as ever. Hermione, lips parted, was breathing more heavily than her recent exertion might call for. She felt dizzy breathing in the dark musk of his scent... making a quick mental note to herself to ascertain what fragrance he used as she wanted to be careful to avoid it in the future.

"Don't ferret me, Granger, this predicament is your fault."

"Just get off me... NOW!" The young witch felt panic-stricken with claustrophobia at Malfoy's extreme proximity.

"Relax, will you?" he said impatiently, trying to disentangle himself from Hermione, doing his best to ignore the way her chocolate eyes flashed, the way her moist raspberry-pink lips were pursed in frustration. "There's nothing to get so worked up about."

"Having you on top of me is enough to get worked up over, Malfoy!" Her voice quavered.

"I'm sorry, I don't have time for anything else, Granger," he said dryly. Thinking he had his robes dislodged he attempted to stand, but again fell back down.

Hermione winced. "Ow!" She looked up at him then looked away, uncomfortable with the way he looked down upon her. "And stop calling me Granger... I hate that!"

"Fine." He paused for a moment before finally uttering, "Hermione..."

She glanced at him then averted her gaze yet again. When she turned her face back to his seconds later, his mouth was closer to hers than she, in her darkest nightmares, had ever dreamed. His soft lips descended, down... down to cover hers. But just as his flesh was about to make contact, it was gone.

Reality made its unpleasant presence known as she saw Draco dragged to his feet by Ron Weasley. Hermione had never seen such a look of absolute fury as she now saw on her ex-boyfriend's face.

"What the hell are you doing with MY... with Hermione... you poxy boggard!" snarled Ron. In horror she watched as Ron's fist arched through the air and made contact with Draco's cheek. Whap! She heard a scream echo through the hall. It took a moment to register that the voice was her own.

Draco made one move and pinned the taller redhead to the wall by his spindly neck. "How dare you touch me, Weasley." His voice was low and calm. Draco could have been discussing the weather for all the emotion that was belied by his voice. Ron paled, the mahogany of his freckles becoming more exaggerated by the pallor of the skin beneath. The bold Weasley began to sputter and flail, his fury now replaced by the realization that his jealous rage had landed him in greater jeopardy than he'd anticipated.

Hermione did not stay to witness the outcome of this drama. She pulled herself from the floor and ran, resuming her interrupted pursuit of Harry. At least that's why she told herself she was running. Having no intention of even acknowledging the disturbing emotions that threatened to expose themselves to her, she continued her haphazard flight through the sparsely populated halls. Hermione wasn't quite sure where she was headed. All she knew was that she wanted to get away from Draco, away from Ron... and she needed to find Harry, too... She hadn't even noticed that she had left the castle itself until her legs gave out from beneath her. Clutching her right side, she fell to her knees just outside the Quidditch field.

When she regained her breath and poise Hermione finally looked up at the moonlit night sky. There, a seemingly drunken Harry was on his newest broomstick, an Ultramax Flyer Mk. IV, dodging no fewer than fifteen Bludgers. Her heart caught in her throat. This is insane, she thought, what does he think he's doing?

A golden blur whizzed past her ear, startling her. Harry came zooming after the Golden Snitch, something that never would have left the confines of the Quidditch field during a legal game. Her robes billowed over her head in the slipstream of Harry's reckless passing. She ducked. Too late. A stray straw from the tuft of the besom slashed her cheek. Her hand flew to the sting and when she drew it away dark smears of blood were evident in the moonlight.

She flinched again as a dark shape blew past her head. "Oh, God!" she screamed. The words of The Lord's Prayer, echoed by habit of her partially Catholic upbringing, blundered across her frightened soul.

The swarm of Bludgers in pursuit of Harry blew by her. Every hair on her body stood on end. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done," Hermione muttered as the last of the bewitched balls swished by her. Disgusted by her descent into superstition, Hermione fell silent, her nails digging into the palms of her hands.

Fascinated, she watched as her could-have-been boyfriend dodged the potentially deadly Bludgers. He circled the field, silhouetted by the moon, and just before the Swarm could move to pound him into dust, Harry Potter triumphantly seized the elusive Snitch.

He came crashing to the ground amongst a rain of enchanted balls. Hermione uttered a shriek too high pitched for the human ear to perceive. It wasn't until she saw his crumpled form begin to move and pick himself up from the hard-packed ground that Hermione found the courage to run to her friend's side.

"Oh, sweet Gilgamesh!" she all but sobbed. " Harry, are you alright?"

Potter's eyes flew open and for the briefest moment regarded her with cool disdain; something she would have expected from Malfoy, but not from her oldest true friend. "What do you care?" he asked in a heart-broken voice before picking himself up slowly and limping away out of the Quidditch stadium.

She could not find the words to express how she felt. In silence she followed Harry at a distance toward the Forbidden Forest before they circled Hogwarts castle. She finally caught up with him as he paused at the burnt out ruins of the site of Voldemort's last stand. The site drained every positive feeling in Hermione like the presence of a Dementor. There was something unnaturally inert about the burnt out ruin at the rear of the castle that seemed to absorb everything both light and dark within the psyche of any spirit approaching it. All color of Hermione's world seemed to be drained at this spot.

Harry stood at what was once the rear entrance of their school. His expression was as empty as the aura surrounding this place. He turned to gaze over his shoulder at the young woman approaching him. "Why are you following me?"

"I want to be sure that you are okay." She rubbed at her arms, trying to dispel the sharp chill.

"As you can see I am fine. I can walk. I am not dead." His voice was robotic.

The witch pressed her palm against her pounding forehead. She didn't know how to respond to that. Yes, her most dear friend was indeed physically intact. But Hermione was not stupid, either on a mental or spiritual level.

"We both know there is more to being 'OKAY' than the ability to move."

Harry did not reply.

Hermione watched him stand at the edge of the ruins staring at the heaps of charred and melted stone, the place where he had come incredibly close to losing his life. He had lost the closest thing he'd ever had to a father where they stood, and a boulder of emotion lodged itself in Hermione's throat. She wanted to say something to ease his torment and pain, but no words would come to her lips. They both stood in utter silence as they took in this monument of pain and useless hatred.

When Dumbledore had announced the summer program just months after the catastrophe, Hermione had seriously questioned the sanity of the old wizard. Hogwarts had been the one place that everyone believed had been protected from Voldemort, and when he'd attacked that fallacy had been shattered. The wizarding world had been in a state of near-anarchy. No one knew if Voldemort had been vanquished or if he might return. Many families had pulled their children from school and went into hiding. It was after much intense thought that Hermione had come to the realization that Dumbledore had been attempting to reestablish a feeling of safety amongst the students at the school. His attempt was, of course, successful

Her mind swallowed by memories, the young woman leaned against a nearby Oak.

*****

"I'm so sorry, Hermie," said Harry, putting an arm around her shoulders. The touch was welcome, but it wasn't the contact she craved. Harry's caring embrace held none of the peace that she wanted. "If I had known... what he said was wrong..." The young man was obviously feeling guilty for being the one that pushed his friends together.

Hermione knew she should have protested when he kissed her. But she didn't.

"I'm sorry," he said when they pulled apart. It was obvious from the guilt written on his face that he spoke the truth.

"Don't be," she said in earnest. "I'm not sorry." It was true. She wasn't sorry. The kiss felt nice, though she was unclear of the reasons. Perhaps it was that someone else wanted her, in spite of the fact of the Ron had said no one else ever would. Or it could be that she really was attracted to her friend. Maybe she had been from that first day on the Express, so many years ago. Either way, she pulled Harry in for another kiss, something she'd never done with Ron.

*****

Her mind flash-forwarded to a few weeks later.

*****

It was a perfect afternoon; the air was fresh and cool as it always was after a summer shower. A balmy breeze ruffled her hair, soothing her frazzled nerves. She did not look forward to what she knew she had to do.

He'd told her to meet by the Lover's Tree, and she knew that was not a good portent of what was to come. "Harry?" she called out at she approached the secluded place.

Harry appeared from behind the tree, a goofy, nervous grin on his face. His dark hair appeared more disheveled than ever, several strands clung to the fogged up lenses of his glasses. Curls of wood were stuck to his robes. "Hey," he greeted. His hands were visibly shaking.

Without thinking on the matter further, Hermione blurted out, "We need to talk."

Harry did not seem to hear. He grasped her hand and pulled her around the tree. "Look," he said, pointing at the Harry and Hermione forever carved just inches from Ron's heart. Snatching her hand from Harry's Hermione groaned and pushed her palm against her forehead.

"Why did you do that?" Her voice was cold and sharp.

He looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

Hermione glared at the carvings in the bark. "This is the Lover's Tree. Last I checked we weren't a couple."

"What?" Harry's jaw fell slack and his cheeks reddened as he he'd been slapped repeatedly. "I thought we were… you know, together"

She tossed her hair. "Well you thought wrong! Shouldn't I have some say in this?"

Harry gazed at her in silent confusion.

Conscience crept up on Hermione and she softened her voice. "I'm sorry, Harry. I should have spoken up sooner. You are too good a friend to me for this to happen. It's not right."

Taking a step back, Harry shook his head in disbelief, squeezing his eyes tightly closed. "How is love wrong?"

"I don't love you." She paused and took a deep breath. "I mean, I DO love you, but not like that. You are my friend." She reached out to touch him, but he stepped away, his face darkening with anger, hurt.

"I don't know what your problem is," he growled, he no longer looked like the Harry she knew. At that moment he resembled a rabid skunk. "No one else wants you, Hermione."

She gasped as the words pierced her heart. Tears sprang to her eyes. Before she could respond, Harry turned and ran off into the shadows of the forest.

*****

Her face once again wet with tears, Hermione walked forward to join Harry amongst the rubble. He did not appear to notice her presence beside him, but still stared straight ahead vacantly. She opened and closed her mouth several times, searching in vain for the right words.

"I'm so sorry," she finally muttered.

He turned his head slightly to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "What do you have to be sorry for?" His tone held the slightest flavor of sarcasm.

"For everything." She sobbed. "For Sirius, for hurting you, not being honest when I should have been. Damn it, I'm just so sorry!" She tilted her head forward; her hair fell to cover her face.

"Stop. Just stop." He kicked a stone, sending it flying into the darkness. "I can't stand it when you cry."

"I-I can't help it!" she wailed. "I just want us to be friends again."

Turning her by her shoulders, Harry then tilted her chin up to him with his index finger. "I never stopped being your friend… and I'm the one that's sorry. I'm the one that hurt you not the other way around."

She shook her head. "No, I-,"

He cut her off. "Please, just let me finish."

"But-,"

Harry put a finger to her lips. "For once in your life, just listen, okay?" When she remained quiet he continued. "I've been in love with you for years. I should have known better… somewhere inside me I knew I was just the rebound guy." Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but the look upon his face stilled her tongue. "You were right, you know. Those weeks we spent together weren't right. Yet I pursued it. I was just so happy to believe just for a short while that you could be mine. And then when you gave me that 'friend' speech…" His voice trailed off.

He released her, walked away a few paces then turned back. "Do you know how many times I've heard that? I'm always too good of a friend to be a boyfriend. I can't stand it anymore. That day, when you said that." He inhaled deeply. "It just hurt so badly to be hearing it again. Something inside me snapped and I lashed out. Even as I was saying that I wanted to take it back. Damn it. You know that isn't true don't you?"

The young woman looked away, hair sticking to her tear-stained cheeks. "I want to believe that. I really do, but-" Hermione began to cry harder, and then suddenly she was wrapped in his warm embrace. He crushed her to him, pressing her face into his chest.

"Believe it, please believe it," he whispered. Hermione looked up through her tangle of hair and was surprised to see that he was also crying. For a long while there was no sound except the tears they shed together. "Please forgive me."

"I do forgive you."

He squeezed her tight for a moment and then let go. Pulling off his glasses to wipe his eyes with his sleeve, he gave her a sheepish half-smile. "I feel like such a fool."

"I think we both do." Hermione pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose.

After a moment of awkward silence, Harry took Hermione's arm. "C'mon, I'll walk you to your room. It sounds stupid, but I think I'll miss sleeping in the dorms."

Hermione giggled. "I don't think it's stupid. I've had my own room all my life…"

They trudged through the dew-wet grass, neither knowing what to say, but both relieved their feud seemed to be over. Finally, as they entered the empty halls of the castle Hermione asked, "What do you think of this corporal punishment thing?"

"I won't have anything to do with it."

"Me neither, though I hope I'm there when Malfoy gets it." The image in her mind caused her heart to flutter strangely. She hoped Harry didn't notice the flush making its way over her face.

Harry laughed loudly, his voice echoing through the stillness. "Yeah, me too. Though he'll probably run to his daddy and try to sue or something."

As they made their way to the common room they would both share for their last year, the two reunited friends discussed ways they could get out of their responsibility of doling out the physical punishments. Hermione was glad Harry found the practice to be as distasteful as she. Years of physical abuse at the hands of the Dursleys had given the young man a deep hatred of physical violence.

They paused outside of the portrait guarding the entrance to Hermione's private room. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "Do you think Ron will forgive me?"

His eyes burned with anger. "I don't think you should forgive Ron," he said quietly.