Chapter Eighteen: Facing Your Problems

It was Thursday, two days after Defense Against the Dark Arts, just before dinner.

Draco had been walking to the dungeons when he'd spotted Weasley. Hermione's

words rang through his ears. '...now, because of what happened last night, Ron refuses to

talk to me...'

An all-too-familiar scowl crept across his face. The thing with Weasley was affecting

Hermione, he could tell. Those two had it out occasionally, mainly because they were both

obstinate. They had gone for whiles without talking. He remembered their second year.

He felt bad... Wow, Draco Malfoy felt bad about something. That was certainly a change.

He scoffed...

Apparently, the scoff was resounding, for at that minute the redhead turned around.

When Weasley's eyes met Draco's own, that bad feeling was gone. All he could see was

red, and it wasn't the Gryffindor's hair, either. What Weasley said first didn't help matters

either.

"What are you looking at, Malfoy?"

"You, Weasley. Why? Gonna try to make me feel bad too? Well, I have news for

you, I quite frankly don't give a rat's ass what you think, one way or the other—"

"Oh sod off, Malf--" Ron interrupted.

But Draco just plowed ahead. "Hermione does care, though, and I suggest you think

about that. I thought you were supposed to be her frien--"

Ron interrupted again, his face nearly purple at this point. "Yeah, so did I, and then

you went and stole her away from me and --"

"Wait just a minute, Weasley, I haven't finished. Hermione's in quite a rut because

of you, and I think you should go talk to her. Her not talking to you wasn't right, I'll admit,

but what you did was horrible. Friends don't do that. They're supposed to be there for

each other, through it all, and be able to accept each other's decisions, even though at

times it may seem impossible. They're supposed to stick up for each other, not try to bring

one another down. Hermione's the only person I can really say has ever been a friend to

me. She's not a bad person, Weasley, you know that. Hear her out. Listen to what she

has to say. You might learn a thing or two. Communication is the most important part of

any relationship, Weasly, remember that." He paused. "Oh, and I didn't steal her away

from you, she wants to be with me. And if you really care about her, you'll respect that,

and if not, then you shouldn't call her a friend."

Hermione sat at her favorite table in the library at the back, and decided to think.

She needed to clear her head, and set things right again. She and Ron had spent time not

talking before, but somehow, this seemed to matter a lot more than that. He had tried to

get revenge on her. This made it different. She had been seeking his approval; it was just

something that felt so right. And now, at the time that she needed him most, he decided to

be hotheaded. She sighed, opening a book on arithmancy. As she stared down at the

numbers on the page, her mind drifted, and it wasn't until a shadow came over her that she

came back to reality.

Ron had been walking aimlessly, thinking about the events the day before. Damn,

Millicent Bullstrode wasn't a half-bad kisser. He shook his head. What Hermione had said

had just been too funny. And then he thought. He had almost laughed. Almost. It was

the type of witty rejoinder that had made him remember the good times, and then he saw

the bitter look of defeat on Millicent's face, and that brought him back to the task at hand.

But then, why exactly was he doing this?

His thoughts had been interrupted when he felt eyes on him, and turned around to

see none other than the Slytherin scumbag himself. They had exchanged words, and

Malfoy had basically told him to listen to Hermione. "Hear her out," he had said.

Ron shook his head. He wasn't sure what to do. He had just been lectured on

friendship by a guy who likely knew no more about it than he himself did about Potions.

That was amusing. And yet, he found that his feet had carried him to the library, and he

was standing over Hermione, half wanting to scream at her, half wanting to go up to her

and hug her and make things just like they used to be.

"Hermione, we need to talk."

Hermione looked up as she heard those words. From the person she had least

expected to come and try to find her. She met his eyes, and nodded.

He took a seat next to her, and they sat in an awkward silence for several minutes,

until she decided she couldn't stand it any longer.

"Ron, I'm so sorry, I should have told you earlier, but I guess I just didn't want you

to blow up and take things out of proportion like you always do. You can be so hotheaded

sometimes--"

"Oh, I blow up and take things out of proportion, Hermione? Really, now, who was

the one that went running from the train at the beginning of the year?"

"That was because you lost your temper, Ron!" She paused and surveyed him. His

face was turning red now, almost the color of his hair. "Ron, you just need to learn to

control your temper. I mean," she sighed. "I guess it's that we're just too much alike."

The redhead nodded in agreement. "Sorry about the whole Millicent thing."

She nodded. "Ron, that really hurt. You did something intentionally to try to play

with my emotions, and I don't appreciate that."

"I said I was sorry, 'Mione, what more do you want?" he asked. H

His temper was starting to flare up again, so she decided to just let it go -- for now,

anyways.

"Let's just put it all behind us now, okay?" she asked.

"Sure," he paused. "But one thing, 'Mione..."

"What?"

"Do you really think Malfoy's a better kisser than Millicent Bullstrode?"

They both laughed together, drawing the attention of Madame Pince, who warned

them to be quiet or she would kick them out. It was nice to see that things were starting to

get back to some semblances of normalcy... or as close as possible, anyways...