(A/N: Ooooooooh - exciting chapter! Well, not really, but I had fun writing it. Hope you likey! ♥)

Sitting in The Three Broomsticks pub in Hogsmeade, Hermione brooded over her butterbeer and ignored all forms of conversation that Ron and Harry tried to engage her in. They had stopped asking what was wrong half an hour before, for fear of losing their heads in the process. They had now resorted to trying out Harry's new wizard chessboard, bought that morning in Hogsmeade, because that at least didn't necessarily involve talking or Hermione.

Hermione could feel warming sunshine on her back through the front window of the pub. She hated it.

She could hear other Hogwarts students talking, laughing and enjoying themselves, and she hated them.

She hated school, she hated life, she hate, hate, hated Draco Malfoy.

But of course she didn't really hate him, and that was why she hated herself.

'Well,' said Harry tentatively, 'Should we, um, go for a walk or something?'

Hermione nodded silently and tried to smile. It wasn't fair to take her anger and disappointment out on her best friends who hadn't done anything wrong.

'I'm sorry I've been so anti-social,' she said quietly as they pulled on their cloaks.

They both looked relieved that she was talking again.

'You keep going from one extreme to the other,' Ron teased, 'I can't keep up.'

'Try harder,' Hermione told him, grinning properly for the first time that day.

As the trio emerged from The Three Broomsticks onto the bustling streets of Hogsmeade, they saw a large group of Slytherins headed their way. Harry felt Hermione stiffen beside him and misinterpreted the reason. He patted her arm reassuringly.

'Don't worry,' he muttered, 'There don't have to be any arguments, do there Ron?'

Ron, who had been menacingly cracking his knuckles and muttering insults under his breath looked up at him.

'What?' He said, sounding crestfallen. Harry glowered at him.

'Right,' he agreed hastily, 'No arguments.'

The three of them braced themselves as one and soldiered on.

For one wonderful moment Hermione thought that they might get away with it, but then Malfoy's voice caught up with them.

'Not even stopping to say hello Potter?' He called, 'Not very polite of you.'

Hermione saw Harry's fists clench.

'Please don't rise,' she whispered, 'Please Harry.'

'Too scary for you, are we?' Malfoy taunted, 'I'm surprised Weasley, I didn't think there was anything scarier than you're Quidditch keeping.'

Harry and Ron stopped in their tracks.

'Please,' Hermione pleaded desperately.

'Fair enough,' Malfoy continued, 'Off you trot with your Weasel and the mudblood, Potter.'

The two boys whirled around furiously, but Hermione carried on walking.

'Aw Hermione,' Pansy Parkinson simpered, 'Don't run away!'

Hermione's own hands tightened into fists. Bloody Pansy Parkinson: she just couldn't keep her mouth shut, could she? Only her complete hatred for that girl, mixed with her bad mood, could convince her to slowly turn back.

Hermione cocked her head slightly to one side, raised a sarcastic eyebrow and held Pansy's gaze just long enough for the Slytherin girl to blush a pleasing, luminous red. Hermione could feel Malfoy's eyes on her, burning impatiently for her attention. She ignored him. Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin who Hermione knew little about, put on a falsely sympathetic face and took over from Pansy, who was now studying the floor.

'Did Draco scare you mudblood?' He asked patronisingly, 'Oh dear! He's sorry!'

Hermione's lip curled of its own accord. She imagined shoving Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini down a large flight of stairs all at once and felt a cruel, satisfied smirk appear on her face.

'Not as sorry as he will be,' she promised.

'Hermione!' Dean Thomas shouted, racing up the street behind Harry, Ron and Hermione.

They stopped and turned to wait for him.

'I just heard a whole bunch of Slytherins attacked you and single-handedly stunned them all at once! Is that true?' He gabbled breathlessly.

'Of course it's not true,' Hermione laughed, 'But this is interesting: rumours in my favour, for once.'

'Never happens when I make clever comments,' Ron grumbled.

'Then maybe they're not always as clever as you think,' Harry grinned at him.

'Ha ha,' his friend muttered sarcastically.

The trio watched as Dean hurried off, disappointed, to rejoin his friends.

'I think this might work to your advantage Hermione,' Harry said with a smile, 'You're going to be a hero.'

After a while, Hermione began to rather enjoy being a hero. People would pat her on the back, call out to her in the corridors and smile at her a lot more than usual. Deep down she felt somewhat guilty that she really hadn't done anything at all, especially not taking on a whole bunch of Slytherins single-handedly, but it was still nice to feel important and special for once. Draco made her feel important and special.

'Shut up Hermione,' she muttered to herself between clenched teeth.

'First sign of madness,' said an amused voice in her ear.

She looked up, startled, to see Justin Finch-Fletchley standing beside her with a friendly smile on his face. Justin was an amiable, if occasionally slightly pompous, Hufflepuff who had been a strong supporter of the DA the year before.

It suddenly came to Hermione that she was standing in the middle of a corridor she didn't recognise staring vacantly at an empty portrait, usually of a portly wizard wearing a monocle.

'Yep,' she flushed slightly, 'Today's definitely been mad.'

'You look a bit peaky,' he said kindly, 'Is the fame starting to wear you down?'

Hermione laughed, 'You could say that. But if it's like this for me, imagine how it must be for poor Harry. I've never really realised before.'

'Very noble.'

'I mean it,' Hermione said sharply.

'I know,' Justin told her gently, 'So do I.'

Hermione felt embarrassed again. Here she was, snapping at poor Justin when all he was trying to do was be a friend.

'I'm really sorry,' she said after a moment of silence, 'It's not just the "fame" thing, I've got other things on my mind. That's why I'm in such a mood.'

'Anything you want to talk about?' He offered.

Hermione hesitated. She did want to talk about it. In truth, she wanted to kick and scream and howl about it, but she knew she couldn't.

'No,' she said eventually, 'I don't really want to talk about it.'

'Okay,' he nodded, 'Well I'm here if you'd like to. And I'm not just talking to you because you knocked out a flock of Slytherins-'

'I didn-' Hermione interrupted automatically, but he stopped her.

'I know,' he said again, his voice still wonderfully calm and soft and soothing.

Hermione's shoulders sagged.

'Come on,' said Justin, putting a comforting arm around her and gently turning her away from the portrait, 'I think you should get some rest.'

She let him lead her along corridors and up stairs in silence, until finally they were outside the Gryffindor common room.

'I'll leave you here,' he told her, turning to go.

'Justin?' she called after him.

He turned back with a questioning look on his face.

'Thanks,' she said after a pause, her mouth trying to remember how to smile.

'No problem,' he smiled back.

Hermione suddenly felt her eyes fill with unexpected tears, and before she knew it she was clinging to Justin and he was hugging her, practically holding her up.

'You'll be okay,' he murmured in her ear, 'Whatever's wrong, I know it'll work out.'

After a moment, she composed herself, wiped away her tears with the back of her hand and gave him a wobbly smile.

'Thanks,' she croaked again.

She watched as Justin walked off down the corridor, and then she turned to the portrait hole. She had just opened her mouth to utter the password when she was interrupted.

'Well,' said a voice. Hermione had never heard one syllable full of such accusation and contempt. Of course, only one person could master such a use of the English language.

'Can I help you?' She asked, still facing the portrait hole, 'Or can I stop wasting my time?'

'That was a very touching display of affection,' he continued, ignoring her cutting questions, 'Justin Finch-Fletchley? Who would have thought it? I didn't know you had it in you Hermione.'

She shrugged, 'Well I guess you do now,' she told him indifferently. She took two steps closer to the portrait hole and suddenly felt a hand on her arm, whirling her round to face him.

'Guess what?' He said, his voice low but penetrating, 'I didn't like it.'

'Jealous? Who would have thought it? I didn't know you had it in you Draco,' she mimicked scathingly.

'Don't play with me,' he warned, his grip tight on her arm.

'Trust me,' Hermione replied, 'There's no danger of that whatsoever.'

And with that she snatched her arm from his grasp and marched off down the corridor. A tiny little part of her half wanted him to run after her and take her in his arms: guts or not. But he didn't. What a surprise.