Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

A/n: I recently got a review from someone saying this wasn't a romance fic. Actually it is. It will just take some time, that's all. That person really needs to learn how to read between the lines and learn the meaning of the saying 'You shouldn't judge a book by its cover.' So anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I was surprised that this didn't take me any time at all to post, so we'll see about the next chapter, but I'm not promising anything. Maybe late this week, or early next. Enjoy and please review!

Also, this chapter some of you may not like, only because it does get kind of - oh, you'll see.

Chapter Three

"Um..." Hermione started slowly. She backed away from Harry, feeling his rage.

"So," Harry said. "How did it go? Longbottom any good?"

Hermione winced. His words felt like someone had dropped a bucket of cold water on her head. She took a step back, and raised her hands, spreading her fingers.

"Harry I-"

"No," He spit, stepping closer. "I won't take this any more. Your lies, the games, the whole 'beating around the bush' thing. All of it."

"Harry you don't understand..."

"What I don't understand is why you're treating all the guys around here like animals and showing yourself off as some slut." He said the word as if it were something that didn't taste right in his mouth. Sour and bitter.

Hermione became angry. "Just stay the hell out of this! You wouldn't possibly understand what I'm going through right now, so just go somewhere, curl up and die!"

Harry was taken aback by her words, but Hermione seemed unfazed by any of it.

"Maybe I should! Then no one would give a damn if you got sick, or pregnant, or...or..."

Hermione was about to send a comment back at him before his words slowly sunk in. He cares? Hermione wondered. But he couldn't possibly...But she quickly brushed her surprise off.

"Harry? Would you please just SHUT UP?" Hermione yelled.

Harry looked at her, eyes wide.

"Dammit, Harry! Just stay out of my business, ok? Because you prance around like you know everything, and why I'm doing shit like this all the time, and you're always yelling at me and everything! Well I'm getting sick of it! Just do me a favor and stay the hell out of it, because none of it concerns you!" Hermione spat. She walked away from him, anger threatening to erupt all over again. She hadn't really meant to get so mad at him in such a short period of time. She didn't really like being angry at him all the time, but he was always so god damn annoying.

She was stiff and cold. Wrapping her arms around herself, she decided to go back to her room, and get away from...ugh...she didn't even want to think about his name at the moment.

She reached into her pocket where the pen and her list were tucked away. Unfolding it, her eyes scanned the particularly long piece of paper, and pen in hand, she crossed of Neville's name.

Not even bothering to check to see who was next, she shoved her things back into her pocket. She mumbled things all the way to the common room and her room, finally relaxing as she sat down on her bed.

Tired, she checked her throat from the yelling she had done. It was sore.

"Great," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes as she began to undress. She wanted to go to sleep. She wasn't hungry anyway.

Slipping off her skirt, she didn't notice her pen and list fall out of the pocket. She pulled some stretchy, tight pants on over her curvy legs, and changed shirts.

Hermione ran a brush through her hair quickly, and sighed as she slipped in between the cool, crisp bed sheets. Flicking off the light, she closed her eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Meanwhile, the list lay open on the floor.

It was a good thing that Hermione hadn't noticed that it had fallen. She probably would have fainted, or mutter a bunch of curses at it, ripping it to shreds.

Because there he was, number 276: Harry Potter was written in black ink.

Well this should be interesting, don't you think?