The trio sat in the Great Hall, poring over their new timetables, the sky, as reflected in the ceiling, was a dull grey, and was, in many ways, reflective of Harry's current mood. And Ron and Hermione weren't helping. The previous night, as they had come up to the castle, many people had noticed their "proximity" and hadn't failed to discuss it loudly as the couple passed. This just made Harry feel like an extra arm, an arm that needed to be severed, and quickly.

This morning was no different. Hermione and Ron were as couple-y as ever, and Harry was finding it hard to adjust. He sat fiddling with his spoon in his porridge. It had long since turned cold, but he hadn't really felt hungry anyway, he was just doing it so Hermione wouldn't fuss. Letting thew spoon fall (splosh) into his breakfast, Harry stood.

"I'll see you guys in Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Hermione detached herself from Ron and turned to look at Harry.

"Harry, class doesn't start for another twenty minutes."

"I'll… I-um, I have to get something from my trunk, forgot something…" Harry mumbled ineffectively.

Hermione of course saw right through this, but Ron, snaking an arm around Hermione's waist again, interjected.

"Let him go 'Mione, give him a break."

With that Harry left them, Hermione giving him a worried look over Ron's shoulder.

He of course hadn't forgotten anything upstairs; he just had to get the heck out of there.

Harry arrived at the classroom little later than the rest of the class, and he slipped in as quietly as he could, sitting down next to Ron and Hermione, but the new DADA teacher didn't miss anything.

"Nice of you to join us, Potter."

The haggard face of Moody turned to face Harry, the electric blue eye swivelling back to the front.

"Er – Hi… sorry." Harry said uncomfortably.

Moody, turning his back to the class again, was now writing an incantation on the blackboard. In messy scrawl, Harry read: dolor mentis. Moody then turned back to his class again.

"This incantation, when used correctly, can be your greatest asset. The ability to cause not physical, but emotional pain to your enemy can be priceless. You have the ability to play on your opponent's worst memories or experiences, and this can prove invaluable. Never underestimate the power of the mind. "

Harry wasn't sure if he liked the sound of this.

They spent the rest of the lesson taking down notes on the proper use of the spell, as it could apparently backfire horribly if used incorrectly.

The last few minutes of the lesson were uneventful, and Harry was feeling anxious to get outside. The only thing that proved even more unnerving was when Malfoy decided to secretly cast the spell on Hermione.

Instantly, Hermione began to cry, not little baby tears, but deep wracking sobs that broke Harry's heart to hear. She had fallen to the floor, and was hugging her knees to her chest; Ron had frozen with anger, before suddenly lunging violently at Malfoy. Harry looked daggers at Malfoy, then bent down to Hermione, gently lifted her up, and took her to Moody at the front of the classroom. He quickly cast the counter-spell, and Hermione stopped crying. Harry had to almost carry Hermione out of the classroom, and as soon as they were outside, he sat her down on a bench, his hand gently rubbing the small of her back.

Hermione was avoiding Harry's eyes, clearly embarrassed. Wanting to let her reveal herself when she was comfortable, Harry merely continued to move his hand in small circles on her back. Quicker than he had expected, Hermione's tear-stained face turned to his, and she leant her cheek against his face. Her tears felt a little sticky against his cheek, and Harry wanted to wipe them away for her, make her feel better. Hermione suddenly spoke.

"God, Harry, it was… it was…" She began to cry again.

"Shhh…" Harry cooed consolingly.

Hermione nestled into Harry's chest, her fresh tears wetting Harry's shirt. He stroked her hair, and as he rested his chin on the top of her head, he noticed a certain lanky redhead approaching. As gently as he could, he detached himself from Hermione, helping her to stand, his hand gently clasping hers.

"I-er, she needed… I'll just..." He stopped. He noticed Ron had a cut lip, and a nasty looking bruise was forming on his right cheek - clearly Ron and Malfoy hadn't talked out the issue. Harry led Hermione to Ron, and watched as she was embraced by him, but her hand remained clasped in his. Letting go, he felt her hand tighten on his a bit, and he turned to see her looking at him over Ron's shoulder, her beautiful brown eyes wet with tears. She looked into his eyes, and then Harry let go.

Walking away, Harry tried not to turn and go back to Hermione. He was worried about her, but that was Ron's job now…