Hermione stared at the ticket in Draco's hand.

"C-coming with me?" she stammered. "But—I—"

"Not to stay, obviously," he said quickly. "To, you know, help you get settled in and . . . stuff."

Hermione was speechless.

"Are you quiet because you're surprised or because you're repulsed?" he asked.

"Definitely not repulsed," Hermione tried to explain. "I'm just—I—it means so much to me, that you're going to come all the way to New York with me, and help me set up and get settled in and get used to living there, and I'm just finding it hard to express my gratitude and—"

"If you're going to blather like this the whole way there," he cut in calmly, "then I won't come."

"I am shutting up," she whispered, clapping a hand over her mouth.

"Thank you," Draco said, looking relieved.

"Can I go talk to Harry and Ron now?" Hermione mumbled between her fingers.

"No," he told her firmly, taking her by the arm. "You are going to go to sleep. It's late, you're stressed out, and if you go over there now, you'll only make it worse."

"I thought I was supposed to be the logical one," Hermione grumbled, allowing him to lead her down the hallway.

"You must be rubbing off on me," he shrugged, a grin slowly taking over his face. "Listen, do you mind if I stay over tonight? My neighbors had salmon for dinner, and the fumes somehow made their way into the air vents . . ."

"No problem," she said, picking her way through the sea of packing boxes that filled her bedroom, "as long as you don't want to borrow any pajamas." She flashed a mischievous grin.

Draco put on a hurt face. "Not even the ones with pink stripes?"

Hermione looked at him in a calculating way. "Pink would be very lovely on you."

"I think I'll be fine," he said quickly. "I'll go pull out the couch. Where did the extra blankets migrate to?"

"Third box from the bottom of the big stack next to the kitchen table," she said immediately.

Draco cocked an eyebrow at her and sauntered out. Hermione sank onto her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest. In three days, her life would change completely. She would never tell anyone, but she was feeling incredibly nervous about everything. She was just relieved that Draco would be going with her. Somehow everything fell into place when he was around.

~*~

"I can't do this. I cannot do this, and you're not going to make me."

"C'mon." Draco gave her a gentle shove in the back, nudging her towards the fireplace. "You'll have to eventually."

"But it's raining," Hermione whined, pointing outside to the dreary morning. "I'll be wasting valuable packing time. I can't pack when it's sunny because I get tempted to go outside, and I need all the rainy days I can get."

"You're almost completely packed. You don't need the time. Now go."

Hermione groaned and allowed him to push her towards the fireplace.

"They're not going to understand," she said, procrastinating. Draco held the jar of Floo powder towards her.

"You owe it to them to try," he wheedled. "You don't want to leave with this hanging over you, do you?"

"Well. . . ."

"Go on."

"Fine," Hermione sighed, reaching for a pinch of powder. She tossed it into the fireplace, shouted her destination, and was whirling through green flames. She stumbled out into the messy living room, quickly regaining her balance, and looked around for signs of life.

"Hello?" she called nervously into the silence. "Ron? Harry?"

Ron walked out of the bathroom yawning and shirtless, his hair wet and tousled. "Hey, Hermione," he said, looking pleased to see her. "Haven't seen you for awhile."

"Whenever I come, you aren't here," she said, trying not to sound accusatory.

He shrugged. "Sorry. I've been really busy lately, with Quidditch and everything. Do you need something?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "I need to talk to you and Harry."

"Um," Ron said, looking awkward. "That might be a small problem."

"Why?" she asked quickly. Anything to keep her from talking was good. . . .

"Well, Megara came home with Harry last night," Ron said, carefully looking anywhere but at Hermione, "his girlfriend. And, um, she hasn't left yet. . . ." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Harry's closed bedroom door.

Hermione could feel herself turning scarlet. "Um . . . I suppose I'll come back later, then."

"Anytime today would be fine," Ron mumbled, his ears as red as she assumed her face was. "Er—shall I Floo you when she leaves?"

"Okay," Hermione said hurriedly, turning towards the fireplace. "Thanks, Ron. I'll see you later then." She was spinning through fireplaces before he could reply.

"How'd it go?" Draco asked, looking suspicious, as she fell onto her couch. "That sure didn't take you very long."

Hermione buried her face in her hands with a moan. "I feel so stupid."

"Why?"

"I didn't get to talk to them," Hermione said, muffled by her hands, "because Harry and his girlfriend were otherwise occupied."

Draco cleared his throat, obviously trying not to laugh.

"Oh, shut up," Hermione groaned, emerging to smack him on the arm. "You wouldn't think it was funny if it had been you there."

Draco shrugged. "If it had been me, I probably would have laughed in their faces."

"Why don't you like them?" Hermione demanded.

"They don't like me," he said simply.

"That's not true," she protested feebly.

Draco gave her a look. "Fine," he agreed, "they hate me. No, don't," he interrupted as Hermione opened her mouth to argue, "they do and you know it."

"Well, it is sort of your fault." Hermione's eyes went wide with shock and she clapped her hand over her mouth, as if belatedly trying to keep her harsh words from escaping. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that at all," she said quickly.

"Okay," he said quietly, looking down. "I know. It's fine."

"No, it's not," she insisted, grabbing his arm. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's true," he told her slowly, looking her directly in the eyes. "I was a different person at school. They only know that person."

"I really think they'd understand if I told them about you," she said, changing the subject to an old debate of theirs.

"No, I really think they wouldn't," he said, looking slightly alarmed. "You can't tell them about me, they'd probably estrange you or something."

"They're my friends," she protested.

"And they're overly possessive," he replied. "Come on, Mya, let's not argue."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Draco reached over to give her a hug. "I'm sorry too."

The fireplace suddenly flickered with emerald flames, and they jumped apart, startled. Hermione plucked a piece of parchment out of the ashes, and read, "'You can come over now. Ron.'

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "I can do this."

"Yes, you can," Draco encouraged, patting her on the shoulder. "Go on. It'll be over soon, and won't that feel good?"

Hermione nodded, made a face, and stepped into the fireplace.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said awkwardly from his reclined position on the couch. "Er—look, I—"

"It's okay, I don't really want to talk about it," she interrupted, willing herself not to blush. "I mean hey, I seem to have a knack for showing up at bad times."

Harry grinned. "Don't beat yourself up about it."

"Who's beating themself up?" Ron's voice asked from the kitchen.

"Harry is," Hermione called, breaking into a smile. "He's mad because you're eating all the food."

"Am not," Ron protested, coming out of the kitchen empty-handed. "I was putting away the pumpkin juice that you left out on the table," he told Harry. "Hi, Hermione," he added.

"Hi, Ron," she said wryly.

"You wanted to say something?" he asked.

"Um . . . yes, I did," Hermione said nervously. She began pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. "First you have to promise not to yell at me."

"As long as you stop pacing," Harry said, his eyes following her. "You're making me dizzy."

Hermione stopped. "Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "I got the job in New York and I'm leaving in two days, and please don't be mad, I really think this'll be for the best for everyone, myself included, and I couldn't stand it if you were mad at me and then I didn't see you again, and—"

"Stop babbling," Harry commanded. She froze mid-word. There was silence.

"All right," Harry said eventually, slowly. "So you're leaving. Will you come back and visit a lot?"

Hermione nodded violently. "Of course."

"And it's a good job?"

"One of the best there is."

"And you'll be careful by yourself over there?"

"For heaven's sake, Harry," Hermione said in exasperation. "You're not my mother, although you're doing a remarkable job of sounding like her."

He forced an uncomfortable-looking smile. "Good luck, then."

"Thanks," Hermione said in relief. One down, and the hardest one to go. "Ron?"

"Yeah."

Monosyllabic responses were not typical for Ron, and Hermione began getting worried. "Are you okay with this?" she asked.

"Oh, sure, perfectly fine," he said, sounding strained. "Why would it matter what I think, anyways? It's not like you ever listen to us, so why should I even bother?"

"Ron?" Hermione said in confusion, feeling her eyes began to tear up. "What are you talking about?"

"C'mon, Hermione," he said, making a horribly fake grin. "You know what I'm saying. I mean, you always know what's best, don't you?"

"Ron, please don't do this," Hermione whispered, a few tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Ron. . . ." Harry warned.

"Did you ever stop to think that other people might care about you leaving?" Ron asked, ignoring both of them. "Didn't you think that this might actually affect us? Hurt us?"

"Ron, don't make things worse," Harry said angrily. "Can't you see that you're the one hurting her?"

Ron didn't even bother to look at him. "Do you just want to get rid of us?" he demanded silkily, sounding reminiscently like Snape as he advanced on Hermione. "Is that it? You want to ditch us for someone like . . . Malfoy, don't you?"

Hermione burst into tears. Ron's accusations were in no way true, but she had a hard time dealing when people were angry at her. It had to be a strange coincidence that Draco just happened to be the person he mentioned. Hermione wondered if Ron knew something she didn't want him to know.

"Ron," Harry said, his voice dangerously low, "leave her alone. Now."

Surprisingly, Ron did as Harry demanded, and stormed off into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

"I knew it, I knew it," Hermione sobbed as Harry put his arms around her. "I knew he wouldn't understand, I tried to tell Draco, I tried. . . ."

Harry stiffened. "Draco? As in Malfoy?"

"Oh, shit." Hermione realized her mistake too late. "Harry, no, listen, it's not what it sounds like—"

"Ron was right?" Harry said, sounding bewildered. "I defended you, and he was right?!"

"Harry, listen to me," she pleaded, grabbing his arm as he started to leave. "Draco and I are friends, yes, but I don't want to get rid of you and Ron, not at all! Ron was completely off-base! You two are my friends, and I'm never going to forget you."

"Sure," Harry said, not looking at her and clearly furious. "Whatever you say."

"Harry," Hermione whispered, "I promise. I wouldn't lie to you."

He looked her dead in the face. "Damn you," he said, clearly and coldly, and turned and walked away.

A block of ice slipped down into Hermione's stomach. Never in her life had she been spoken to in that way. Crying so hard she could barely see, she stumbled for the fireplace, and fell out into her apartment, directly into Draco's arms.

"Shit," he whispered, stroking her hair. "It's my fault, isn't it? They didn't understand."

"I tried and tried to tell you," Hermione sobbed. "It was Ron, he twisted what I said and Harry believed him . . . they're never going to talk to me again . . . they hate me."

"I'm so sorry, Mya," Draco murmured. "I—sorry doesn't cut it, does it?"

"I—" was all Hermione could get out before his lips were on hers. For a moment she forgot that it was Draco that she was kissing, forgot that they were supposed to be best friends; she forgot all about Harry and Ron, and the fact that she was sobbing; all she could think about was his lips, and how this was so different from any passion she had thought she felt before.

Abruptly Draco pulled back and swore violently. "I just keep messing things up. I'm sorry, Mya, I completely forgot. Just friends. I won't do it again."

"It's okay," Hermione murmured, looking down. Draco gently wiped her cheeks with the back of his hand.

"Hey," he whispered, gently nudging her chin up. "It'll all be okay. I promise."

~*~

Well, I definitely didn't intend for all that to happen. I was thinking, okay, Ron'll be angry but Harry'll make him understand, and everything will work out all right. This stuff just came from nowhere. Wow. I think I can work with this plot better, too.

By the way, I borrowed the 'surprised or repulsed' line from Second Helpings by Megan McCafferty.

burgundyred: As much as I wish I could say something like, 'Hermione's dependence on clothes symbolizes her need for order in her life, and Draco is trying to get her to break away from that'—I can't, because that would be lying. I just thought it would be funny for her to have to go to a morning movie in a silk evening dress. :-) I HATE HATE HATE it when people stick author's notes in the middle of a story, and use bad grammar and spelling. Seriously, it looks like they've never read a book in their lives, and don't know what a story should look like. *deep breath* anyways…glad you like it!

PinkTribeChick: I couldn't make him just let her go, could I? *laughs evilly* Thanks for reading.

If you want me to send you an email when I update, leave your email address in your review. I might not get out chapter 5 on schedule because this is tech week for Nutcracker, and I'm at the auditorium every night until Sunday, so I'll let you know in my bio if it's going to be up or not next week.

ADDED NOTE ON 12/18

I am not going to keep a regular schedule for updating. I apologize for any problems this may cause, but I am simply too busy to do that. Stupid school. I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. -fallenpetal