DISCLAIMER: Nope. Still not the owner of anything.

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Hermione felt a knot in her stomach, as the image of Draco and Pansy going into his bedroom still swam fresh in her mind. The very thought of the other girl touching him was making her feel cold. Suddenly, Ron came up and grabbed her around the waist. The iciness seemed to evaporate from her body, and she couldn't fathom why it had been there in the first place. She wasn't jealous, that much she was certain of.

"Baby…let's go to your room, ey?"

"Ron! No! You're drunk, aren't you?" Ron turned Hermione around as she spoke, and tried to kiss her – an advance that made her turn her head in an effort to get away from the pungent alcohol on his breath.

"Baaabyyy," Ron began to whine in what he thought was an incredibly irresistible way, "why don't you want to kiss me?"

"Because Ron, you are drunk and not in your right mind."

"Fine! Obviously, you don't want me around."

"Ron, please, that's not what I mean. I'm just not the type of girl to do things like what you're suggesting we go to my rooms for, especially not when you are raving drunk."

Ron spun around and stalked off at the end of her explanation, and Hermione sighed. Nothing seemed to be going right tonight. She began to talk with Harry, who seemed to be incredibly embarrassed by the drunken tirade made by Ron a few minutes ago, but a strange sight caught her eye. Pansy was stomping out of Draco's room with a furious look on her face. Somebody tried to stop her, but she flung the unfortunate soul out of her way and left the room. Nobody seemed to notice but the two or three people that had been in her way and Hermione.

Harry's monologue about how alcohol had such odd effects on people was drowned out as Hermione's mind turned again towards her strange roommate. She didn't know why he was having such an overwhelming effect on her, but she didn't like it.

Suddenly, Draco came out of his rooms in a much calmer manner than the previous exit. Hermione walked toward him as if they were magnetized, leaving Harry mid sentence. She didn't see the Golden Boy's expression, and didn't seem to care. She didn't see how his eyes opened in shock, and then slowly narrowed as he saw who she was walking to.

As she approached Draco, Hermione saw his face soften a bit, and his grey eyes looked luminous in the light. Her breath caught in her throat – a mixture of annoyance, confusion, and desire. She couldn't like him, hell she didn't even like him in a purely friendly way. But yet tonight she hadn't been able to get her mind off of him. When she reached him, he leaned in and whispered, "I just realized Granger…you said my name earlier. When the whole boggart thing happened. You said Draco. Whatever could that mean?"

When Hermione pulled back to look at him in surprise, she saw that one eyebrow was cocked slightly, and he was giving her a teasingly suggestive look. "Just a slip of the tongue, I suppose, Malfoy."

She couldn't play this game. She knew he still hated her, and she had to hate him too. This was only alcohol speaking. It had to be. His eyes darkened a little, and he leaned in closer, his hand resting on her arm. "Are you quite sure of that, Hermione?" When he said her name, a slight gasp came from the girl, and she felt as if the entire room had gone silent and was watching them, creating rumors that would get back to Ron and destroy their relationship.

Come to think of it, the entire room had gone silent.

Hermione quickly jerked away from Draco, and slowly lifted her eyes, expecting people to be staring at her. Instead, they all seemed to be enthralled in something happening in the far corner of the room.

"Hermione! Don't look!" Harry's hand clamped down on her tender skin, and she felt a sudden heaviness come upon her. She lifted his hand gingerly, with a strength she didn't know she possessed, and stepped forward lightly. Everybody seemed frozen, but their breathing seemed to echo in Hermione's mind. She weaved her way through them, feeling their eyes slide over her. She kept her own focused on the ground in front of her, afraid to look up.

After what seemed like hours, Hermione reached the cleared area in the corner by the fireplace. She lifted her eyes, and her breath lodged in her throat for the second time that night. Ron was there, but he wasn't alone. Her gaze landed on their intertwining lips, on his hands eagerly tracing Lavender's stomach and chest. She staggered back, and strong pale hands grasped her shoulders, preventing her from collapsing.

Time sped back up again as Harry came out of the crowd nearest Ron and pulled his best friend from the other girl. Ron drunkenly protested, but his eyelids were half-closed and he soon allowed Harry to lead him out of the Head's apartments. Lavender just giggled and hiccupped, and her friends rushed her out as well.

Draco helped Hermione to the couch, which was quickly cleared by anybody on it. In fact, the entire room was clearing rather fast, and soon Draco was left alone with the stunned girl.

"How…how could he have done that?" Hermione looked at Draco with pleading eyes.

"Because he is a filthy Weasel, Granger. He doesn't deserve you." As soon as the words were out, Hermione could see that he was as shocked at them as she was.

Her entire body ached with grief that reflected all of her years that had been spent slowly falling for Ron. His eyes that held so much love for her were the same ones that had blurred and betrayed her. Tears started to fall on her face, where they seemed to freeze and make her look like a tragic portrait. She had thought that loving her best friend had been enough…that they would be together through whatever may come.

She leaned against her enemy's shirt, noticing the irony even through her anguish. Ron had hurt her more than Draco ever had. His cool hand began to stroke her hair, and she looked up at him. His eyes bore into hers, and she put her face as close to his as possible without kissing him.

"Why are you here?"

Draco knew what she meant, and softly replied, "Because your face will haunt me even if I left."

Hermione's eyes widened at this strikingly honest reply, and she closed her eyes, allowing her lips to brush delicately against his. He pressed harder against her, but almost in the same movement, pushed her away.

He didn't look at her wounded face, and coldly said, "I will not be reduced to being your rebound, Hermione. I don't need that."

He stood up, and she watched him walk to his room, his shoulders hunched, and his use of her name still ringing in her ears. She laid her head down on the cushioned arm of his favorite couch, and sorrow racked through her body in silent sobs that put her to sleep, even as the dim thought of not knowing which boy she was crying over ran through her mind.

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(AN: I know Ron seems like a real ass…but do remember, he WAS very drunk…)