"Hermione, dear, have some toast." Mrs Weasley said, dropping toast onto the plate held out by a reluctant Hermione, who then sat down at the crowded table and took a bite.

"So, boys, how's the joke shop been?" Arthur asked Fred and George, who had apparently Apparated in the night before.

"Great, dad! Business is booming, as usual!"

"Those Fangtastic Fruits are bringing in loads, Ginny! Thanks for the idea!"

"No problem, Fred. Any time."

"Ginny, you're not helping them now, are you?"

"Yes, I am, as a matter of fact, I am."

"She's our little brainstormer!"

"Ron, are you and Harry coming to see the Chudley Cannons play during the Christmas holidays?" Charlie asked, before everyone noticed Hermione silently weeping into a rather soggy, half eaten piece of toast.

"Hermione?" asked Ron, the only one who apparently knew about Harry and Hermione's argument, quietly.

"Hermione, you can go too, if you want to that much…" started Charlie, before everyone in the kitchen, minus Hermione, shot him a shut-up-you're-not-helping look.

"Hermione, you can get over this, come on…" Ron started to say.

"You don't know that! YOUR PARENTS AREN'T DEAD!" Hermione shouted and Harry drew a sharp breath.

"Maybe I don't… I…how… I give up…" Ron muttered.

"It's ok, Ron. My parents are dead, Hermione. So do I understand?" Harry asked.

"No. You don't."

"And why's that, Hermione?"

"You were one. You can't remember."

"I GET FLASHBACKS EVERY WEEK NOW WHEN I'M SLEEPING! HOW WOULD YOU LIKE THAT?"

"JUST SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" Hermione screamed, grabbing her wand and walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Mrs Weasley frantically.

"For a walk." Hermione said, grabbing her coat from the cloakholder (which Fred and George had enchanted to dance whenever someone went near it) and left, slamming the door behind her.

--

Out in the crisp morning, Hermione felt safe. She felt like she had time to think, time to get over her loss. Her footsteps echoed along the path leading to the fields behind the Burrow. Realising her shoelaces were untied, she stopped to tie them. What the… she thought, thinking her footsteps had gone on for a little too late there… her feeling of safeness immediately vanished. It's just an echo, she told herself, and kept walking, after tying her lace. But… she was sure that someone was behind her, like that uneasy feeling when you're waking alone down a dark street. Suddenly, she saw a flash of white in the bushes.

"Who's there?" she cried. No-one answered. "I said, who's there? I have a wand on me and I'm not afraid to use Dark Magic!"

"Dark Magic, Granger? I never knew you had it in you. Maybe you should be in Slytherin." Hermione shuddered. She knew that voice all too well, and she didn't like that he was standing behind her. She slowly turned.

"Malfoy."

"I prefer Draco, but Malfoy works."

"What are you doing here?"

"Hiding out."

"I'll turn you in."

"To who?"

"McGonagall."

"Ha! McGonagall put me here!" In a little hut just off that field." He pointed.

"Fine then, I'll tell Mr Weasley."

"That isn't Mr Weasel's land. So he can't get rid of me if he tried."

"You evil-"

"Shut up Granger. Now me…"

"You what?"

"I could turn you in to McGonagall."

"For what?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"For threatening to use Dark Magic on a peer."

"I wouldn't exactly call you a peer."

"I wouldn't call you one either."

"What?"

"What?"

"That made no sense."

"What made no sense?"

"You made no sense." Draco laughed. Not the harsh, evil sounding laugh Hermione was used to, but a warmer sounding, softer one. Within seconds, Hermione found herself giggling, too, before remembering that this was Malfoy, of all people, and returning to her frown, re-raising her wand.

"Where are your parents?"

"I think you know where my father is."

"And your mum?"

"With my aunt."

"Bellatrix?"

"Yes, Bellatrix."

"Evil cow!"

"Hey, that's my aunt."

"Oh, don't worry, you've inherited her skill."

"And her beauty." Draco said, spiking up his hair. It was now thatHermione noticed how normal it looked, not in it's usual greasy state. Hermione had to admit, without his expensive robes and over use of hair gel, Malfoy looked wuite attractive. Ew! You should be ashamed, that's Malfoy! She thought.

"So you agree?"

"What?" she said, snapping back to reality.

"Well, you didn't answer, so I assumer you agree that I did inherit my aunt's beauty."

"Or rather lack of it." Came a voice from behind them, and they both jumped around to see Harry and Ron standing, wands at the ready and pointed to Draco's head.

"Harry, Ron!" Hermione said.

"Lay one finger on her and I'll blast your hair off." Ron threatened.

"Like last time, Weasley? When you ended up coughing up slugs?"

"Fine then, I'll blast your hair off." Harry said.

"Don't start me, Potty."

"Stop it!" Hermione interjected.

"Stay out of this, Hermione." Ron said fiercely.

"Why? We've just had a nice little chat, haven't we, Mudblood?" Draco said, nudging Hermione.

"Call me Mudblood once more, Malfoy, and I'll hex your nose." Hermione said, pointing her wand straight at Draco's nose.

"Sorry… sorry…" he whimpered.

"Some on Hermione. You've to pack your trunk." Harry said matter-of-factly and pulled her away, Ron following, still pointing his wand at Malfoy.