A/N: I know this is a very short chapter, but it's a kind of "in-between" chapter where basically I'm just moving the story line along a bit. I would once again like to thank all those who reviewed my last chapter: Lady-Delphinea, padfoot-lover1 and Janie Granger.

I figured since it's a romance/angst fic I should add in some romance, and I have… not very good romance I admit but it's my first time at writing a fic so I'm hoping you'll all forgive me.

I've had the ending planned for a LONG time, the only problem is that I planned the last five chapters and the first six, so I had like four chapters in between which are not that great. (I don't know why I bothered writing that but whatever).

Please read and review.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me… bla bla… on with fic.

She noticed them straight away; she could see the looks of disgust cross their faces and the look of anger in their eyes. She ignored the hurt look on Draco's face as she abruptly pushed him away and ran after her two friends who were already walking away.

"Harry…" she called out after them, "Ron… it's not what you think"

"We don't know you any more Hermione," whispered Harry sadly.

"Why are you being like this? I've done nothing wrong!" she fumed.

"Nothing wrong!" mimicked Ron, "What do you call sucking on Malfoy's face?"

"It wasn't like that!" she almost shouted.

"What was it like then… perhaps you fell into his mouth. Is that what happened Hermione? Did you fall onto his lips?" asked Harry.

"And to think," said Ron glaring at her, "we came to apologise to you".

"You don't understand…" she began.

"Let me guess… you think he loves you," snorted Harry, not noticing the tears which had filled the head girls eyes.

Without another look back both boys turned and walked away from their friend, and she watched them leave, not saying a word.

She used to think she was the luckiest girl in the world… she had friends that would never leave her, unbeatable grades and parents who loved her. She thought these were the things that mattered. The only things that mattered. She was wrong.

Her heart felt something she had never felt before when in the presence of a certain blonde Slytherin, and yet she knew her friends would hate her forever if she gave in to these frivolous feelings, but how could she recede when her heart kept pulling her closer to that which she cannot have.

She had cried after the fight with Harry and Ron, she was angry at them for what they had said, and yet in a way she understood them.

Yet with these thoughts in mind she felt selfish, how can she care about petty things such as kisses and romance when people's lives are in her hands?

Every night she goes to sleep, unknowing of what she may see. The deaths and destruction which to most only appear as nightmares… she sees them knowing they will soon come to pass, yet not knowing how to stop them. She realised this is what matters now, lives that have been lost… lives, which will be lost, all in the hands of fate, appearing inevitable, yet, she already proved that changing the inevitable is possible.

Will there ever be an end to this meandering road of confusion?

It scared her… all the choices she had to make, but worst of all, the thought of making the wrong decision.

Hermione looked out of her bedroom window, thinking back to the last dream she had, the girl… who seemed so familiar, yet with the distance between them she could not place a name to the blurred face. She still had time to save her; she remembered the one tale-tell sign, which marked the day of her death.

Snow.

The hooded figure entered the shop with a cold air about him; he approached the counter, knowing exactly what he wanted.

"I need a potion," he hissed, then, so as not to be heard by anyone else, he leant closer to the man behind the counter and whispered in a voice no one else could hear what potion he wanted.

"But that takes over a month to brew!" was the reply he got.

The hooded figure took out a small bag of coins and threw them in the direction of the wizard behind the counter, "you were saying…?" he drawled from under his cloak.

"I'll have some in for you by next week," smiled the old wizard, and so it was settled.

"Excellent," muttered the man, stepping back out of the shop only lowering his hood once well out of sight.

He stood outside her bedroom door, contemplating whether he should knock. She was his friend, and a friendship can't be broken so easily, he just had to know… just one little question.

"Hermione…" he called knocking on her door gently, he didn't wait for a reply, as he had a feeling she would not answer.

She looked up at him, and he could see the hurt in her eyes, hurt that he had caused. Harry looked at her, an innocuous look on his face, "I need to ask you something," he said, sitting down beside her on the bed.

"Why should I bother answering?" she shrugged.

"Look Hermione, I hate fighting with you and you know that, please don't make this more difficult," he said, his eyes silently pleading her.

"Does Ron know you're here?" she asked.

Harry shook his head, "no, he's still angry".

"What, and you're not angry?" she mumbled.

"It depends," he gently pushed his glasses back up his nose, "do you love him? That's all I want to know".

She remained silent. What was love anyway? How was she to know if that was what she was feeling?

Every time he walked in the room, her heart would beat that little bit faster. His presence alone would make her smile. And imagining life without him was like imagining living a half-life.

Was that love?

She didn't reply, but she didn't need to, Harry was a smart boy and he could read the expression on her face.