Disclaimer: Nope. None of it is mine. JK Rowling holds alllllll the glory.
AN: I thought that I'd do one of those "what-happened-last-time" sort of things, just so that you all know where we left off and you don't start the chapter off in the dark.
"Oh, thank the heavens!" Mrs. Weasley came bustling up to the little corner where Hermione had secluded herself from the rest of the witches and wizards congregating in Diagon Alley. "I thought we'd lost you and you'd disappeared somewhere. Good thing we found you. Time to get back…"
"Alright, can I just have a minute?" She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "I'll be okay," she continued, sensing Mrs. Weasley stiffen at the sound of a sniffle. "Just some allergies."
"Oh. Well okay then. Just a minute though. It is getting a tad late, and I still have to cook dinner!"
In a few seconds however, the star pupil of Gryffindor house regained her composure and stood up, following her friends and Mrs. Weasley back in to the Leaky Cauldron fireplace.
xXx
The room was dank and dark. What little illumination there was bounced off the stone walls eerily. A black leather couch stood alone in the middle of the large, empty chamber, beckoning the Slytherin Prince forward. As the boy got closer to the center of the room his pulse quickened while his breath shortened. Beads of perspiration began to accumulate above his brow and upper lip. Why was he so nervous? So frightened of what lay ahead?
Shadows appeared out of no where, creating illusions in one's mind of nonexistent enemies. The faint sound of dripping water was all that could be heard above his ragged breathing. The couch was mere feet away, when a female voice rang out from behind the platinum haired boy, making him spin and draw his wand.
The sight that met Draco's eyes wasn't what he had expected in the least; before him stood one of the most exquisite women he had ever laid his eyes on in his entire sixteen years of life. The woman was young, yet had an air of maturity about her. A sense of mystery and peculiarity seeped from her very being, and it intrigued young Malfoy to walk closer to the woman.
She was staring back into his steely gray eyes just as intently as he was staring into her honey browns. Within her warm, amber orbs, Draco saw a desire he knew not of, a desire that was burning itself into embers and ashes with every passing moment. She wanted him. He knew it. And in turn, he studied her as well, took in every inch of this mystifying woman.
She was wearing a form-fitting black leather skirt, which was complimented by a few thin metal chains and buckles. Her shapely legs were easily revealed, given the length of the skirt. Her top was an off-the-shoulder green velvet sweater. It clung to her body, allowing her slightly curvaceous form to show. Soft, loose, brown curls cascaded down her back, shining under the bit of light provided by a few lamps.
He had not yet finished his examination of this magnificent creature when she said, "I see you looking, you know."
Embarrassed, Draco turned away and made his way over to the couch. He immediately heard her footsteps following him, and his heart rate became even more rapid. A few seconds later, she had turned him around to face her and had wrapped her petite arms around his neck in an embrace.
"No need to be shy," she said, her head resting in the crook of his neck. But she lifted it up next to his ear as she spoke her next few words: "I only bite if you want me to." Taken by surprise, Draco was even more shocked when this woman pushed him back onto the couch and straddled him, pinned him down.
"What are you doing!" Draco exclaimed. However, he was still a teenage boy. He was in no rush to get this stunning woman off of him.
"You tell me." She grinned, and began to take off his shirt, very slowly and seductively.
Draco continued to stare at the woman and realization of her identity let itself be shown in the widening of his eyes.
"You're — ! " he started, but she cut him off, and giggled. "I know who I am, silly."
And he faded back into reality.
xXx
"Wake up! Wake up, Draco! We need to get to King's Cross Station within a half an hour."
Narcissa Malfoy's voice was high pitched and panicky as it awoke her only child on September first. Normally a very organized and self-controlled woman, it was odd to see her behaving in such a non-Malfoy fashion. Immediately after opening his eyes, Draco began to question his mother because something was obviously wrong.
"What's wrong, Mother? What's the hurry?" His voice was still full of the sound of weariness and sleep, soft and barely audible. "Your father…what was he thinking! There was a big fiasco this morning and it just has us way off schedule…now get up, get dressed and get your things or else you'll miss the train!"
xXx
Opening her eyes to Mrs. Weasley's wakeup call, Hermione yawned in content. She had slept incredibly well, and was looking forward to the day ahead, for today was September first, and that meant getting on the Hogwarts Express back to school. She couldn't wait. Hermione slowly climbed out of bed, stretching her muscles with another big yawn. She could smell breakfast and headed to the stairs as quick as she could, ready to fill herself with toast, bacon, eggs, and anything else that happened to be waiting for her in the kitchen.
"Morning," she said to the room at large once she finished descending the rickety staircase. "Well good morning to you too, deary," Mrs. Weasley replied, placing a plate of food on the table in Hermione's usual place. "Oh, Arthur, at least grab some toast on your way out! You shouldn't be going on an empty stomach."
Mr. Weasley had been rushing around the house since five that morning, ruffled and anxious. An owl from the Ministry had specified he be in to work earlier than usual:
Mr. Weasley,
We request that you please come into work precisely two hours earlier than usual (7:30). An inquiry is being held against a certain Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and the Minister would appreciate it if all who were involved in the muggleborn disappearance case were present. No more information can be disclosed at this time, but the Minister has promised to tell us what exactly has been going on once everyone has arrived. See you soon!
Percy Weasley
Percy Weasley,
Assistant to the Minister of Magic
"I will, Molly, I will, but I'm in a bit of a rush if you couldn't tell," Mr. Weasley snapped. "No need to get in a snit with me!" Mrs. Weasley replied.
Hermione tried rather hard to stifle a giggle that was making itself known in her throat. Really, they may bicker at each other once in a while, but Ron's parents were dreadfully adorable, Mr. Weasley being so tall while Mrs. Weasley was a short, lump of a woman.
"What are you smiling at?" Ginny asked, curious. "Your parents," Hermione answered. "You must admit they are so cute! Especially when they fuss over one another."
"HERMIONE! Must you talk about my parents like that while I'm eating?" Ron's eyes were large and pleading as he looked at Hermione. "Sorry, Ron. I didn't know you're parents disgusted you that much." Hermione didn't know what Ron's problem was. She would die to have his parents. After all, her mother may be a gem of a woman, but on the other hand, her father wasn't the greatest guy in the world.
"Alright, you lot, get your bums upstairs and pack whatever else you need at Hogwarts. I don't want to have to owl much of anything tomorrow morning, so double check everything!" Mrs. Weasley began to hurry her children to the staircase, with the addition of Harry and Hermione, who were at the back of the bunch. "Don't toddle about, either!" she reminded.
Harry laughed, and took the stairs two at a time, shouting over his shoulder "We won't!" Hermione noticed the twinkle in his eyes, and how he seemed to be truly enjoying himself. It had been a while since she had seen a genuine smile on his face, which was quite predictable, considering the passing of Sirius had only been a few months prior.
He had been doing quite well, actually, Hermione thought. Compared to the first few weeks after Sirius died, he was healing quite exceptionally. She knew that if it had been her loss of someone incredibly close like that, she would be devastated and scarred for life, especially since she would have witnessed the murder. She shivered. She absolutely despised the word.
Murder. Just thinking about it made her shiver. How could someone kill another in cold blood? Without any regret or remorse for taking another person's life away, their happiness, everything that they once held dear? She just couldn't comprehend it.
"Budge up there, Hermione! Get going!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked up the stairs. "You have a half hour to get ready and be down here with your things!" Hermione hadn't intentionally lost herself in thought on the Weasley's rickety staircase, so she hurried up to the room she and Ginny had shared for the past two weeks. When she opened the door, she saw a whir or red hair fly back and forth across the room, accompanied by a voice muttering feverishly:
"Oh, damn, where are they! Where are those bloody quills! And my dress robes, I need my dress robes, too! What about the…the…oh whatever it is they're called…" Ginny trailed off, still obsessively searching for her missing things. "Oh, hey, 'Mione," she said as she saw her dearest friend out of the corner of her eye. "Just looking for a few things I've seemed to have…er…misplaced." She gestured to the room at large, which was comfortably messy. "I can see that," Hermione replied.
She casually strolled to her side of the room, grinning as the littlest redhead continued her fruitless search. A few books and homework assignments littered the tiny writing desk, and Hermione placed them in her trunk ever so gently, so as not to rip them, wrinkle them, or disfigure them in any way.
A few moments later, Ron poked his head into the room. "Come on, girls, Mum's getting anxious!" Then he hurried down the stairs, his trunk clunking along behind him. "I'll see you when you get down there, then," Hermione stated, and Ginny nodded, still tearing the room apart in her hunt for everything and anything not packed.
"Locomotor Trunk," Hermione whispered, and her trunk began floating in midair. She slowly edged it out of the doorway, so anyone coming would see it and not ram into it head first. Good thing she did so, for when she stepped out of the room herself, Harry was behind her, trunk in hand. "Hey, 'Mione," he said, eyeing the trunk. She laughed. "I figured this would be much more efficient than Ron's thumping-along-down-the-stairs method."
Harry blushed, as he had taken after Ron's example. "Good idea," he stated, whispered the incantation himself, and followed his friend down the stairs.
xXx
The trip to King's Cross was undeniably uneventful. Mrs. Weasley had called a few taxis's to take them, and the drivers were very pleased to have them or so it seemed. They got to the busy train station at a quarter to eleven, and had passed through the discreet barrier to platform nine and three quarters at ten to eleven.
"Alright, go find yourselves a compartment and then come right back here for goodbyes." Mrs. Weasley urged them through the crowd a bit, and then remained where she was. "She seems a bit… I don't know… demanding today. What do you guys think?" Both Harry and Hermione nodded at Ron.
They found an empty compartment soon enough, loaded their trunks, and strolled back to the plump redheaded woman waiting patiently near the barrier. Ron was a little in front of Hermione and Harry, and noticed that they kept brushing arms and he heard Hermione nervously giggle. She never giggles. Why is she now? His mood dipped as he continued to put one foot in front of the other toward his mother. She never giggles around me…
"Okay, now you lot behave yourselves," Mrs. Weasley started. "I don't want any more adventures between you three. You've been vivacious enough to last you a lifetime. Just concentrate on getting good grades and being happy alright? Now, go on, get, the train's about to leave!"
With a few last hugs, they were on the train and heading to Hogwarts.
xXx
The trio split up as soon as they got on the train, with promises to meet up within an hour. Hermione ran off to visit with Lavender and Parvati, while Ron and Harry chummed with Seamus and Dean. Ron waited in the corridor of the train until he had seen which compartment Hermione had lodged in, then continued along behind his fellow Gryffindor's.
Seamus began to talk of the gruesome quidditch match that had occurred just two weeks prior, but it was just background noise to Ron. He was deep in thought. Incredibly deep, just like the lake on the Hogwarts grounds. The boy couldn't take his mind off of Hermione no matter how hard he tried. Focus on the conversation! At least look like you're paying attention. Nod, smile, anything! Just don't stare off into space. It'll look suspicious.
"Honestly, how could Lynch have the snitch RIGHT underneath him and not have known it? Especially when he saw Johnson coming right at him! I may be Irish meself, but Lynch was downright stupid for not seeing that snitch." Seamus was in full swing about the match. "But at least we won." He shrugged.
"Hey, guys, I'll be right back." He couldn't take it anymore. He had to let her know.
"All right," Harry said, without looking up at his best friend.
Hurriedly, Ron opened the compartment door and took a few deep breaths. What he was about to do called for cool and calm composure. This was more important than any exam he had ever taken, more important than anything that he could think of. It was time to do what he had wanted to do for so long.
xXx
Draco Malfoy was sitting, as usual, with his cronies Crabbe and Goyle in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. Pansy Parkinson had also joined them…uninvited. And she was beginning to annoy Draco to the point of extreme discomfort and anger.
"Draco? Why aren't you listening to me?" Pansy whined, puffing out her lower lip in a vain attempt to look forlorn and misused. "Do you want honesty, or what you want to hear?" Draco asked, about ready to strangle the girl.
"Drakey, you should know what I want. Honesty, is of course, the key to any relationship. So give it to me straight." Draco couldn't help but laugh. "Excuse me?" he said, trying to control his fit of laughter. "Exactly what relationship are you implying?" "Ours of course," she said, insulted. "Well, Pansy," he started, chuckling a bit, "you are sadly mistaken. There is no relationship between us. I don't know where you got the stupid idea that we were any more than acquaintances, but I assure you, the relationship of which you speak is nonexistent."
He paused a moment to soak in the look of utter fury upon his fellow Slytherin's face, then continued. "And the reason why I wasn't listening to you? Frankly, everything that comes out of your mouth I find boring. You're a pompous little whore." Pansy's eyes widened in complete disbelief. How could her darling Draco insult her so? But he continued on.
"What?" he asked, noticing the bulging of her dull hazel eyes. "Oh, I see. You thought I could never be capable of calling you names, like I do Potter, Weasley and Granger. Oh, how you were mistaken. I've known since first year that all you've wanted was to be called 'mine.' Well that's never going to happen Parkinson. Get it through you're head."
Tears welled in the girl's eyes, and she stood up, determined not to show her weakness. "I expected better of you, Draco." She stomped out of the compartment to who knows where, slamming the door behind her, breaking the glass windows.
"Reparo," Draco said monotonously, and the glass fixed itself in seconds.
"Uhm, Draco?" Goyle said nervously. "What?" the blonde boy snapped. He was annoyed. Pansy always did this to him. And he didn't like it one bit. "That was…rude…even for you. I mean, she may be annoying and all, but she's stilla Slytherin, still a pureblood." Goyle gulped loudly as Crabbe looked on, stuffing his face with a sandwich his mother had packed him.
"Well, Goyle, I must say I'm surprised. I never thought you would ever disagree with me. But…maybe you're right." Draco noticed Goyle's shoulders droop, obviously indicating that the tension stored in them had just departed. "Like you said, she is a Slytherin." Sarcasm saturated his silky voice, as he ended this last statement. But when he began speaking again, it was lined with fury.
"However, she also is an annoying, prissy little bitch. And those qualities right there outweigh her bloodline. As if blood matters when the person should be shot because they have an annoying voice, and don't know when to shut up." Draco's temper flared, and he swept from the compartment in search of a place of solitude where he could get control of himself.
xXx
His breath was heave and labored as he approached the compartment. Why was he doing this? He'd gotten along perfectly well all these years without her knowing how he felt about her. Why did he have to tell her? He began arguing with himself. Maybe I should just go back… NO! You're going to do this Ronald Weasley, even if it kills you — which it probably will, if she doesn't feel the same.
He heard giggling a few feet away, and was able to pick out Hermione's subtle, yet demanding chuckle. Everything she did was unique, wasn't it? She wasn't afraid of what other people thought of her. To Ron, it was one of her most endearing qualities.
Just a few more steps and he would be there. He took a moment to try to control the rapid beating of his heart, which was beating so hard, it was as if it was trying to escape from the confines of his ribcage. With a last consoling thought of 'You can do this,' Ron stepped in front of the compartment door and knocked tentatively upon the glass pane. The girls motioned for him to come in, so he carefully slid the door open and stepped across the threshold.
Different versions of 'hi, Ron' were chorused by the girls as he entered. "Hey," he mumbled in response, nervously. All of a sudden, he didn't feel so great. Sure, he knew he'd have butterflies, but this felt like a whole squadron of 747's had taken off and were dive bombing whatever resided in his stomach. He looked pointedly at Hermione, determined to tell her how he felt. "Hermione, can we talk?" "Sure," she replied, just as he knew she would.
He knew so much about her, and yet so little. She always came up with ways to surprise him, but other things were so common and set in stone, he knew he could rely on them, no matter what. And her concern for her friends' well being was one of the things that were pure-Hermione. You could always count on her to help you. She said goodbye to her friends and followed Ron into the corridor, shutting the sliding door closed behind them.
"What's wrong?" she asked, immediately sensing his discomfort. "Well, I just wanted to talk, that's all." His face twisted into a look of worry, no matter what he did to try to prevent it. Her brow furrowed in suspicion. "I know there's more. Come on, tell me," she requested, as they began walking along the hall.
Ron stopped abruptly and said, "Just give me a minute to gather my thoughts. I have to say this right. I have to say this perfectly." He turned toward the window, gazing out upon the lush green scenery, watching the butter yellow sun spread its warm light over hill, meadow and forest. The complacency of it calmed him, far more than he thought it would. One more deep breath, and he began the most important conversation of his life to date.
"Hermione, this is hard for me to say, harder than you could know. But I talked with—well, someone— and I have to do this." Ron paused, ears reddening by the second. "See, Hermione, I don't think you know just how special you are. And what I'm about to say, I'm hoping, is going to make you happy. You're such an important part of my life, and all I want is you're happiness. So…I wanted to talk to you about, well, the feelings that —"
Hermione's eyes widened in happiness, and she cut him off. "Oh my gosh, Ron, are you serious?" She squealed in excitement. "I never would have thought he felt the same!" Hermione began jumping up and down and she was beaming brilliantly. "Wh-what?" Ron asked, confused. He hadn't expected this reaction out of her. Another one of her surprises. But he hadn't even finished telling her that he loved her, and she was has giddy as his mother was upon meeting Lockhart in second year.
"RON! You just gave me the greatest news I could have ever imagined. I never thought that Harry would like me. I thought it was going to be another unrequited love story. But oh, this is so much better than that THANK YOU Ron! From the bottom of my heart!" She hurried off to find Harry, not being able to get a grip upon herself, heart about to burst with joy and love.
She had left Ron standing in the same spot as when he began his confession, not noticing the look of horror and hurt upon his face. She was too busy rushing through the corridor, peeking in compartments trying to find Harry, that she didn't hear the crack. Hermione didn't hear the shattering of a heart that beat only for her, the heart that had given itself to the cause of loving her. Hermione Granger, his know-it-all best friend, would never know everything. He wouldn't let her. As a tear streamed down his cheek, Ron vowed that he would not allow Hermione to find out the most vital of information that came to understanding him…that he loved her with all that he was, that she had broken his heart.
xXx
A/N:Aww, poorRon. I'm evil I know. Ron didn't deserve to get his heart broken, but everything will be resolved soon enough. review and let me know what you think about it so far..any criticisms, praise..whatever.&& for the next chapter...would you like a Sorting song?