They don't belong to me, as usual. 

"Told you. Sooner you ask someone, sooner they'll all leave you alone, and you can—"

Honestly. They're at it again! In the middle of the common room…again!

One would think it would get easier as time goes by. Easier to see them together, holding hands, laughing with each other, even easier to see them kissing in front of everyone. But it doesn't. If anything, it just gets harder.

Part of me believed that maybe, just maybe, Ron had gone temporarily insane that horrible night. That someone had slipped him some Firewhisky and he wasn't thinking clearly. But again, I was proven wrong. And it's not getting any easier.

Because with each passing day they stay together, the more I feel as though my fate with Ronald Weasley has been sealed.

We haven't really spoken since "it" happened. While I think he's just angry at me for reacting the way I did, I'm not angry—I'm just hurt. Incredibly and deeply hurt. It's painful to look into his eyes now. Sometimes during lessons I'll sneak a glance in his direction, just to see if I can see any signs of unhappiness there. As awful as it sounds, I find myself yearning for the day that he comes traipsing into the common room, flouncing into a chair and groaning about what a horrible girlfriend he has, and how he would give anything to get out of it.

Lavender isn't making it any easier, either. I still remember that night she came into the dormitory, looking flushed and disheveled and…almost smug. She came in squealing and ran over to Parvati's bed and started giggling with happiness—while I quickly drew the curtains around my bed in an attempt to hide my red, swollen eyes and hiccupping sobs. I cried myself to sleep that night.

When I was younger and read fairy stories of young damsels in distress crying themselves to sleep in their towers, waiting for their princes to come, I remember the rational part of me thinking that it would be impossible to literally cry yourself to sleep. Crying before you fall asleep, maybe. But actually sobbing until the point of exhaustion sneaks up on you and you pass out mid-sob just didn't seem logical.

But I discovered differently that night. I remember waking up the next morning and looking like something Crookshanks had dragged in from a night of hunting. And while I sat in front of my mirror, trying to do something to make myself look at least sub-human, Lavender was sitting in front of hers, humming softly and giggling to herself every few seconds. I never knew it was possible for another human being to make my blood boil like Ron does. But she makes my blood bubble with complete and total malcontent. It hurts to even look at her, because I know she's with him. And I'm not. And I hate her for it.

Well, Hermione, all's fair in love and war. You can either sit around and mope, or you can do something about it. Stand up for yourself for once. Be mean, if necessary. Make him hurt as much as you do.

That wouldn't be very mature of me.

Oh, for ONCE in your life, forget about being mature! Forget about being above a low blow! Cut him to the quick. You'll feel better.

For a moment, I stop scolding and arguing with myself and try to think of something else for a change. Christmas is coming, soon I'll get to go home and spend the holidays with my family. I haven't done that in a couple of years, what with the Yule Ball and then spending it with the Order last year…that will be quite enjoyable. Just a week or so left of term, Slughorn's party, and then I'll be off.

Oh, drat. The PARTY. I had forgotten all about it. I don't really want to go anymore, seeing as I have no date, and no one to wear my outfit for, and no one to stand under the mistletoe with…

Hang on just a moment! I could find a date…a date with someone that Ron HATES! Oh, it will be the perfect revenge. I know Ron, and I know that if he reacted poorly to his favorite Quidditch player, he'll take to an enemy infinitely worse!

Well, now. This could be interesting. Who could I ask? The first name that comes to mind is Cormac McLaggen, easily. He's a thick prat who thinks he's Merlin's gift to the game of Quidditch. I felt no remorse whatsoever Confunding him during tryouts. Harry would've had a rough time trying to whip him into a team player. Oh, I could just see Ron's face when he finds out.

Suddenly another name jumps into my mind. Zacharias Smith, that obnoxious Hufflepuff from the DA last year. Oooh, that would be brilliant. Ron hates him, nearly everyone in the DA disliked him. That would be perfectly conniving of me. Just the right touch of cruelty and everything.

Oh, Hermione, listen to yourself. This isn't you. You're acting like a woman possessed. You can't go through with it, and you know you can't. You want to hurt his feelings, not tear him to pieces.

McLaggen it is, then.

I'm beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea in the first place. When I asked Cormac to the party, his face took the definition of smug to a whole new level. It gave me the strong desire to vomit, actually. But sacrifices must be made, I suppose. Now I just have to wait for the opportunity to make sure Ron knows who I'm going with.

Then maybe I'll be able to numb some of my pain by feeding off of his.

Um, Hermione, you're started to sound somewhat like a vampire. It's a bit disturbing, actually…

Well, that's what being scorned resorts you to! I can't help it! I just need something, ANYTHING to make this sharp pain go away. My heart still hasn't been able to make it back to it's rightly position in my chest, it's still down in my stomach somewhere, and it has been for weeks! I deserve a bit of release, do I not?

This lunch is ghastly, by the way. Normally I love the food here—mind you, I do NOT approve of the way it is prepared. But for once I don't feel like going into my convictions where house-elf liberties are concerned.

Maybe it's not so much the food, but the two people I loathe most in the world sitting at the table…snogging like that's how they receive their vitamins and minerals. I think it's the first time I've seen Ron sit in the Great Hall and NOT eat. And it's doing WONDERS for my appetite…

Parvati's speaking to me? Well, that's random. Probably out of guilt, I heard what she and Lavender were whispering about me earli—oh, I should probably respond, shouldn't I?

"Hi, Parvati!"

Don't look at Ron. Do NOT look at Ron.

This is it. A smashing opportunity. Dig into him. Do it.

"Are you going to Slughorn's party tonight?"

"No invite," said Parvati, "I'd love to go, thought, it sounds like it's going to be really good... You're going, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm meeting Cormac at eight, and we're--"

THERE it is.

I have to fight the urge to smirk when I hear the tell-tale noise of Ron prying himself away from Lavender as he overhears me. So I keep going, of course.

"—we're going to the party together."

Ron looks the perfect mixture of shell-shocked and hurt. GOOD. A few more digs wouldn't hurt…so when Parvati responds "Cormac? Cormac McLaggen?" I just smile as wide as my broken heart will allow me to.

"That's right, the one who almost became Gryffindor Keeper."

I see Ron's face fall a little further. For some reason, that just goads me even further.

"Are you going out with him, then?" asked Parvati. She looks pretty shocked, herself. Actually, so does everyone in the vicinity.

"Oh--yes--didn't you know?" I say sweetly. I should do something girly. Hmmm. I quickly insert a squealing giggle, not unlike the annoying noises Lavender makes while she hums to herself.

"No! said Parvati. "Wow, you like your Quidditch players, don't you? First Krum, then McLaggen..."

This is it. Go in for the kill. One more cut and you'll have done it.

"I like really good Quidditch players…"

I've done it. I know I've made him reach a breaking point. I hit him where I knew it would hurt him the most.

I sit and wait for the thrill of victory to elevate my heart from its recent habitation in my stomach back to where it belongs.

But the thrill never comes.

There they are again. Those eyes. Those bloody eyes that are swimming blue pools showing nothing but aching misery. I've gone too far. The vulnerability is there again.

I'm beginning to notice that I don't see it only in rows nowadays. He's always open and vulnerable to me, always allowing me to read him whenever I please. He's taken down his shield for me, and only me. I wonder if he's taken it down for HER as well…

Suddenly my heart twists in its new home. Guilt begins to wash over me in tidal waves. I've hurt him. I know I've insulted him before but this wasn't in the mindless heat of a row, this wasn't a slip of the tongue. This was purely and cruelly intentional.

And now I can't take it back. I need to leave. I need to get out of here. The tears are coming again. I need to go. Now.

Later, when Harry pulls me aside and begins to grill me about what I've done, I make the mistake of telling him the dirtiest version of my plan.

"I thought he'd annoy Ron most. I debated for awhile about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole..."

I stop myself mid-sentence—something I've become quite prone to doing. I can't let Harry know. I can't let him see me break down. And I know that if I keep talking about this with him, I'm going to crack. I won't be able to turn back, and I don't know if I'll be able to stop the tears. I need to silence myself.

I just need to be alone right now. I think. I don't know what I need anymore.

Yes…yes you do know. You know what you need, and you've always known.

You need HIM. And you can't have him, and it's killing you.

You need to buck up, Hermione. Let go of it.

It's already let go of you.