Ron pulled Hermione out of the big doors and out into the cold autumn air. Her outfit was not designed to be worn in this cold of temperatures, and she shivered in both fear and chill.

"Ron, can't we talk about this inside? It's cold."

Ron didn't respond but instead just jerked her along faster.

"Ron please! I'm not dressed for this."

He stopped dead in his tracks and started to laugh. But this wasn't the laugh that Hermione was used to. This laugh was cold and forced and altogether evil. Hermione shivered again.

"Not dressed for this? More like not dressed at all!" With another snort of laughter, he continued to pull her further and further away from the castle. They came to a dead stop in the shadows of the Quidditch pitch.

"What...the... BLOODY HELL...was...going...on...in...there?" His voice was dangerously low. Hermione was too scared to respond.

"ANSWER ME!"

"It was nothing Ron, it just happened!"

"Just happened. I wasn't born yesterday, Hermione! I know the two of you have been messing around behind my back!"

"No, Ron, I-"

"You stupid SKANK!" He slapped her face hard. Her hand flew up to her face as she gingerly touched the stinging cheek.

"Ron, no, nothing is going on between Draco and me."

"Right. Like you having been screwing his brains out in your cozy little dorm while I spend night after night by myself, thinking about you. How could you Hermione?"

"I'm not! Ronald, listen to me -"

"I hope you burn in HELL!" This time he backhanded her, nailing her other cheek just as hard.

"Stop it!"

"What's he got that I haven't got? Huh? Is it his bank account? His power? Or does he just give it to you real good?"

Hermione was offended. "He's not 'giving it to me' at all."

He shoved her and she landed on the ground with a thud. The ground was slick with dew and Hermione shivered once more in the wet and cold. His face was now close to hers and she could smell alcohol.

"Ron, have you been drinking?"

"So what if I have? Doesn't matter."

"You don't know what you're saying, let's talk about this tomorrow." Ron ignored her.

"Thought you were saving it. Well, now that you're giving it out like some whore, I guess I'd better get mine." He held her down on the ground and began roughly pulling at her clothes.

"Ron, no, stop it!"

"Why? It's mine, Hermione, I'm going to get what's owed." He managed to pull her top down on one side, revealing one side of her chest. He tried to get the other side down as well.

"Ron, no, please, don't!" She struggled against him, trying to get her top back up and get out from under him.

"Its ok, you're going to like it. I'm sure Draco gives it to you rough and you like it from him don't you?"

"No! Stop it, STOP IT!" Her top was down; Ron tore one of the straps to finally reveal what he was looking for. He then went after her pants.

"HELP ME!" She struggled harder against him, but she knew her cries were helpless because they were so far out.

"Shut up!" He slapped her so hard this time it made her head spin.

"Ow!" She cried out in pain and began to sob uncontrollably. Suddenly it was as if the real Ron had awoken. He stopped all that he was doing and quickly backed away from Hermione.

"I...oh, God." He stood up and stared frightfully down at what he'd done. She tried to adjust her top but she couldn't keep it up and she was shivering uncontrollably. He threw his cloak at her.

"Here, you'd better go inside and get warmed up. For God's sake, quit crying."

He turned to walk away, but didn't get a few feet before turning back for one last thing.

"Don't tell anyone about this Hermione, ok? Just... we'll talk tomorrow."

She sat in the dark and shivered endlessly, tears streaming down her cheeks until she thought she was dried out. She had never, ever seen Ron in such a manner. She ran back to her dorm, trying to avoid any students along the way. As she climbed into the portrait hole, she noticed Draco sitting on the couch. Hermione tried her best to avoid him.

"Hermione!" He called out to her. "Listen can we talk?"

"Not… not now, ok?"

"No," he stood up quickly from the couch. "No we'll talk right now. I'm so sick of this Hermione!"

She stopped on the staircase, keeping her back to him. He took no notice of anything that was wrong.

"I'm sick of this, sick of the games, sick and TIRED of you changing your mind all the time! One moment you're hot, your flirty with me, you CARE about me and the next minute you're the bloody ICE QUEEN to be, giving me the cold shoulder. I can't handle it! I can't take your constant hot and cold, your temperature changes, your constant mind changes! Sometimes it makes me so aggravated I could-"

"Hit me!" she asked, her voice dangerously strained. "Well you might as well think of something else, because I'm afraid Ron's - if you'll excuse the expression - beaten you to that!"

She whirled around, flinging Ron's coat to the ground. For the first time, Draco noticed the tear stains on her face, the blue tint to her lips, and most of all the red handprints across her face. There were scratches where Ron had tried to rip off her top and where he had roughly handled her. The torn strap fell to her top, revealing her breast to Draco, and he took notice of the rips and tears all over her outfit. He cast his eyes away.

"No look. Draco, look at me! God knows Ron's taken advantage of his situation, why don't you?" She began to sob all over again and collapsed on the stairs. He picked up a throw blanket from the couch and wrapped her broken figure up in it.

"Because I'm not like Ron," he whispered, "and you know it."

She curled into him, grabbing onto him as though he was life itself.

"Yea, I know."

"Listen," he murmured in her ear. "Why don't you go up there, take a hot bath, change into something comfortable, and then you can come talk to me if you want to."

She nodded, and reluctantly removed herself from his arms. Before she got up to leave, she placed a feather light kiss on his cheek. "Playing the savior again," she whispered.

Draco sat on the couch downstairs absolutely fuming. What he wouldn't give to beat Weasley's red haired ass right then. But he knew that being there for Hermione was more important than killing some foolish punk. He couldn't be certain what had happened, but his imagination went wild at what could have occurred between the two of them.

Hermione came down stairs, calmer than before after the long bath she had taken. She scrubbed every inch of her body, trying to rid herself of the dirty feeling left by Ron. Finally, she felt as satisfied as she would and climbed into a pair of her most worn pajamas. She had debated whether or not she would talk to Draco, but she knew he would be curious and that his imagination must have been running wild with possibilities.

She sat down next to Draco with a sigh. He pulled her closer into his body, and Hermione rested her head on his shoulder as she told Draco everything that had happened that night. When she was finished, Draco told her how sorry he was and how much he wished he could have helped.

"And when I said you aggravated me, I wasn't going to say that I wanted to hit you. I was going to say I could scream."

"I know," she nuzzled into him. "I was just so upset."

"Well, it can only get better right?"

"I hope so. This has been the worst night ever. How could it get any worse?"

Just then, the portrait hole opened and Professor Dumbledore crawled in, followed by Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape.

"Professors, what are you doing here so late?" Draco could see the concern on all their faces.

"Miss Granger, we've come to talk to you. I'm afraid we have something grave to discuss."

Draco stood. "Well, I'll just go up to my dorm then."

"No Mister Malfoy, you'd better stay. It involves you too."