BOLD

"Hermione, pass the salt."

"Herm. Salt."

"Harry, you're closer to her. Please, slap her for me. Maybe that'll get that glazed look off her face."

Ron was now drawling sarcastically, eyeing the truly preoccupied look on Hermione's features with a smirk twitching his left lip.

A moment.

Two.

Three.

SLAP.

"Honestly, Ron! God, that hurt!" She screeched while rubbing hotly against her upper arm, momentarily unaware of all the stares she received from the Gryffindors next to her: Dean, Lee, Seamus, Colin, Lavender, and Parvati.

But it only took a moment.

Then the buzzing of talking began its chronic humming amongst the Gryffindor table again.

After all, this was nothing short of the usual.

"Its not like we're in class," She continued hissing, pointedly ignored the snort coming from Harry and the shocked revolted look on Ron's, continuing logically with a, "So, I am completely entitled to pass the time however I like. So, there."

Hermione smiled slightly at Ron's disappointed look, laughing it off to show him that she was actually kidding. Ron, now somewhat mollified, half glared while replying crisply,

"'Mione. Just pass the salt."

Laughing, the trio did not notice the red head until the screeching of her chair announced her arrival.

"Hello there sunshine." Ron called, ruffling his sister's hair fondly, and earning himself a scandalized glare. Laughing it off, he turned to Harry, who was sitting infront of him, and then towards the guys at his left and started the never tiring topic of-

"So, Qudditch, guys-"

Aha.

The girls looked at eachother in mock surrender, sighing upward and grinning when they earned an elbow to the rib from the injured party.

The chatted happily, the grins setting the boy's faces a flush. Colin's mischievous grin before it disappeared behind his pumpkin juice. The freeing boyish laugh that erupted from the bottom of Dean's heart, throwing back his head in glee. Lee and Seamus eyeing his joy with a smirk all their own, and the laughter erupting from the girls at Dean's wild abandon. Their grins a glowing radiance that seemed to make them all the more handsome a group.

They seemed happy, right?

All of them, eh?

Are you sure?

Hn, look again.

No one would have seen the tight clasp Hermione had on her hands, under the table. No one would have believed the searching glances Harry sent across to the Slytherin Table. The nervous butterflies plaguing Ron's stomach.

Ginny surrendered her head to her palms, as soon as the group left the trio and her alone.

She had no idea why it seemed safe for her to shake off the smile and push away the fake laughter from her self.

"Ginny,"

Sliding her palms downwards until only her eyes showed, Ginny gazed at Hermione in perfect understanding.

Oh, yeah.

It was just the timing.

"We need to talk."

Leaving soon thereafter, Ginny looked back once behind her shoulder, only to see both Harry and Ron engrossed with another topic it seemed. If from their slowly darkening faces and the tense muscles on Ron's neck, it was safe to say it was not Qudditch. Ginny's eyes lingered on Harry for a while, and distrust could be seen swimming in their depth. Then they moved to her brother and finally to Hermione, who walking besides her oblivious to her hurtful expression.

Could it be that they all know? Or just Harry?

I had a feeling. The minute I laid my head to rest last night. I knew it was her. And the anxious gazes she kept sending me throughout breakfast and lunch were enough to prove that.

My friend.

We walked in silence; both agreeing tacitly that our talk should take place outside Hogwarts.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No."

"Is he following you?"

"No."

"Are you su-"

Whirling around to look her in the eyes, I voiced my former reply in a firmer voice.

She looked placated for a while, but then she looked past me and tugged at her blouse in a nervous manner.

I sighed inwardly,

"Hermione. There's nothing wrong. You and I were both there at the wrong time in the wrong place."

Absently, I wondered whom I was lying to, Hermione or myself? And how much of what I said was true or just figment lies? Was she really? Did she know it was Harry and not Blaize.

"He just caught me and not you."

I added a bitter smile just for the affect, and true, it earned me another sour looking frown.

"I am sorry, I should have stayed. Did something. I shouldn't have left you- what kind of friend am I- Ginny,"

She ended helplessly, before blurting suddenly, "What were you doing there, anyways?

"Kitchen. You?"

I added the question for no reason at all, not really expecting an answer, or if I actually was graced with one, it would probably be a lie that rivaled my own.

I wasn't exaggerating, and I wasn't angry at all. The trio had their secrets just as I did. And I just wasn't interested like everybody seemed to be. But then again, I had a right to know what happened, since obviously something happened or else I wouldn't be met with constant nervous glances and blank answers and death threats.

We were walking near the Qudditch field, the pause after my question stretching on to fill the miles we walked. It didn't bother me; I was more interested in the woods we were walking next to than our conversation.

It was when I was admiring the greenish vegetation and how the olives and yellow mingled together, how the sun brightened the tree trunks and set the red flowers amidst their leaves alight, that she struck me with her answer:

"I was…I was waiting for …Ron."

"What?"

"Don't stare. Your eyes bulge unbecomingly."

Somehow, I had the distinct notion that I've heard this before.

So, slowly getting over the fact that my brother and Hermione were conducting a secret hidden love affair behind our backs, our conversation took on a mellower tone.

I had no problem with this whole arrangement, but to say the truth, I was glad they kept it a secret. It would have been awkward enough with me, never the less with Harry.

Though there was one thing bothering me. How calm and composed Hermione was with Ron's playboy habits. I mean, the guy changes girlfriends every week. He's my brother, but that's just revolting.

In fact, if I wasn't mistaken, wasn't he dating that girl from Ravenclaw this week? Tiffany?

Just as I was about to voice out my question, we came upon a clearing near the forest.

And as Hermione involuntary stepped back, I inwardly marked this day as the second time I was wholly shocked into speechless enthrallment.

What is it that thrills me to the core? That leaves me half disgusted and half tempted to join in?

Wicked.

The very word, eh? Do you like black or white? Bad or good?

These questions played with me. Snickering at me and glaring snidely as I looked. Kept tugging at my senses and asking over and over again what I liked.

Even as I kept watching.

Black or white? Good or Bad?

I couldn't decide.

But I kept watching.

And watched still I did.

Why don't you watch too? Why don't you join me, ha?

But wait:

Black or white? Good or bad?

He was stretched on the grassy earth, the tall masses of greenery cushioning his long legs against it. His back lazily draped against the sturdy trunk behind him.

His dark hair blown and caressed by the wind; a small tiny lift of his mouth against its whispers, as if he was letting her lift his hair away from his eyes, tolerating her touch only this once.

And the wind didn't mind being used. Used by Blaize.

Are you watching with me? Then you know there's more, don't you?

I seem to always run into him.

Him.

The one lying cozily against Blaize's chest. Content with tearing away the young rosy petals of a once glittering flower; a sadistic narrowness to his eyes and a lazy happy smile.

He leaned heavily against Blaize, stretching his legs between him after satisfying himself with the destruction of a once beautiful thing.

It was a moment etched in my mind.

The two of them. Under the glorifying setting rays of orange, red, and amber. Wearing black and lazy smiles, gazing outward and forming the eerie picture I saw inside the frame that was my vision.

Did they notice us? Would they care? Would we be in trouble?

Ha?

Black or white?

I was still shocked. Hermione and I both stood still, afraid that any movement would inform them of our presence.

After all, stealthy and cautious we could be, there will always be a twig waiting to broken and we just couldn't risk the cliché.

But we were spared the trouble.

They already know, it seems.

Are you watching with me still?

Do you see Blaize look at us?

Muttering something to the blonde in his arms, who was still watching the sunset.

A neglectful half shrug was all he gave as a reply.

That made me angry. Surprisingly so.

Surprisingly so much that I at once turned towards the still shocked Hermione and grabbed her by the arm, intending to turn away and move- faar away- from the two Slytherins.

That was I wanted to do.

Before I got sidetracked that is.

Funny, how darkness can spread. Its stems and vines curl faster than the glorifying rays of Dawn. How it twists and cloaks everything with its mark:

Dying rolling shades of blue.

Funny, the sun has set---

---And that's when I got sidetracked.

When he finally decided to look away from the sun and grace us with his attention.

And I felt…

He smiled at me. A terrifying half flash of his white teeth. Somehow, he wasn't human at all. Something else that shook me breathless.

Uncoiling from the ground-both of them at once-they resembled their house so much that we both stepped back from the lazy half glare they gave us.

Are you watching still?

Then I suggest you stay put. They're walking towards us. We should represent our house and stand brave, don't you think?

Hn, two lionesses against two slithering snakes.

This should be fun.

"'Mione."

"Don't call me that!" She snarled.

Blaize was the first to speak and the first word was uttered with relished venom. Half lidded eyes and a personal tone to his tongue, it was not a surprise that she was angered, because he made it sound so…special. Intimate.

And it wasn't. He made sure she saw the half amused half revolted smirk on his handsome face.

"Why wont you let me."

What?

"What?!" She was surprised, looking hard at his now blank face, trying to see what he was playing at.

"Really, you can't stop me. I'll call you 'Mione whenever I like. In fact, my Head Boy here doesn't mind. And your friends don't seem to at all, actually, if I remember correctly, " and here he paused as if he was truly trying to remember; the smirk widening by the second, "They seemed to- what was the word?"

"Beg."

I was startled to hear his voice; I knew he was there next to me, but I was avoiding him like the plague. And I was succeeding since he kept quiet all this time.

Until now. And that's where my dam broke.

And I looked at him. And felt…

He spared me a glance, right into my eyes he looked. Straight. I wondered how he did it. Since he never looked at me since they approached us, even the short walk towards us, he was looking at the ground with this strange slight smile.

But he looked. And then looked away at Hermione.

Who was glaring like mad at him.

Not Blaize. But at him.

And he was lazily smiling back at her.

And as she risked a glance towards me, I felt certain that his conversation was about something more.

Something bigger than a damned nickname.

"You." Hermione snapped at Blaize.

And the two left, somewhere towards the forest, disappearing and leaving me alone.

With him.

"Hi."

He was acting. I was certain.

"How was your day, Ginny?"

I hated this part. Where he acted like we were long time friends. Like he was actually a nice guy with no hidden agenda.

Apparently the disgust was waving like a red banner, showing through every part of my face, since he stopped talking and just stared.

And I stared.

It was getting awfully dark.

And I was…scared.

And he knew it. Damn it, but why must I be so obvious.

Drawing near me, my feet glued to the forests floor, he closed in on me and gazed into my eyes.

Lovingly.

And I felt…

"I missed you."

His fingers fingering the strands near my eyes- my blank staring eyes.

Suddenly he laughed, a sickening disdainful laugh that hurt so much.

"You're not buying this, are you?" He waited for no answer but turned his back to me and strolled away to stop and look at the place he occupied before we found them.

What was this? What was he playing at?

Suddenly, I heard no more voices. During this strange exchange between the two of us, I was hearing Hermione's exclaimed shouting and if I concentrated enough I could distinguish her words,

" Why are you being so headstrong, you arrogant prick!"

"No, you wont! I wont allow it!"

"Why? Why! Because I don't trust you!"

And I would have figured out the rest if it wasn't for him.

Remember? He touched me. And that was a distraction.

A planned move to make me forget the words shouted.

And do you know what I hate?

I knew that. And yet I still was distracted.

I felt…

"Weasley. Wipe that look off your face." I stared dumbly back at him," Any death plans you planned for me in that little head of yours wont work. I've been through it all."

Strangely, I believed him. But his voice…Was the normal tone. The lazy yet polite indifference towards me and anything that didn't prove of value to him.

And I was angry.

And so, I said the first thing that popped into my 'little head' of mine.

" What's to happen. On Friday."

I found myself pricked, held still by an intense glare.

"Don't you get it, Weasley? Don't you understand? Forget everything" He pronounced the last with deliberate slowness as if he was talking to a 3 year old.

I couldn't help it. The look on my face.

It was almost night outside. And the lights were lighting the ground, the yellow shadows emitting from the castle's windows highlighting the tear sliding down my cheek.

I didnt expect anything from him.

I didn't expect anything, and that was why I was crying.

Don't you get it, he says. Yes, I do! I wanted to shout. There are millions of questions and now one has just been added. And I cant take it anymore. And I am tired. And hurt. Because I cant speak to anyone about it. Even the ones close to me are not letting me in. What have I done to deserve this? Why did I follow him? Was one hour of curiosity worth this much? One hour that I don't even remember?

Was it worth it?

Maybe. I'll never know.

I felt his arms around my waist, his chest against my back, and my head nestled under his own. The tears kept rolling down and the pace was not of my choice.

Hiccups and sobs and wailing, I let myself go.

And I couldn't see anymore. Nor did I feel.

I wanted comfort. And there was only one source.

And so I turned and buried myself inside of him.

And kept crying.

And was kept successfully unaware of the pitying look that was aimed at me from Hermione.

ANote.

I see. I know, I know. Nothing answered; just one more question added to the pile. I like to torment my heroine, it seems.

But fear no more. Salvation is on the way...Hopefully