Here's chapter five. Please review, give me feedback. Compliments, suggestions, complaints? Let me know.

Thank you and enjoy the show.

October 5th – 3:50am – Gryffindor Tower, Girl's Dormitory.

Tonight, I'm an insomniac. I'm writing this under my covers, my wand lighting the paper. I'm feeling too many emotions to sleep right now; my thoughts are completely jumbled. The only thing I do realize is that things between Harry and I are royally messed up.

I guess I'll begin with Hogsmeade. Though I'd had that reoccurring doubtful inkling about spending the day with Draco, I stayed true to my word, and the trip was pleasant enough. I'd been worried that he was going to ditch me for his Slytherin mates, but he stayed with me the whole time, his arm constantly draped around my shoulders.

I suppose Draco was in a generous mood. He bought me everything I appeared remotely interested in. At first I told him not to, but he grew so insistent that I gave up. By the end of the afternoon, he'd bought me a new sweater, a silver bracelet, a fuzzy hat and matching mittens, two bottles of perfume, my own copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, and a lifetime supply of sweets. He also demanded that he tote around all of my new possessions.

As we strolled in and out of the shops, Draco paying for practically every item I cast an idle glance toward, we talked quite a lot of Quidditch. We discussed our favorite professional teams, and the Quidditch World Cup match we'd both attended three years prior. He purchased some expensive polish for the shaft of his "top-of-the-line Nimbus Twenty-Ten Plus, the latest model". He boasted for a good fifteen minutes about this new broomstick of his, a gift his father had given to him at the beginning of the school year.

At around 3:30, I suggested that we get a drink in the Three Broomsticks in an effort to prevent Draco from buying me anything else, as his generosity was becoming a bit over-the-top.

Fellow students shot curious glances our way when we entered the pub, making me instantly uncomfortable. It's not often you see a Gryffindor and a Slytherin walking hand-in-hand. At the same time, I was determined not to let their prying eyes faze me. I tightened my grip on Draco's hand with defiance as we searched for an empty table.

A small group of third year Ravenclaws were vacating a booth right near the bar. Draco ordered two butterbeers then sat down next to me. He slid his arm possessively around my waist. I tried not to notice that we continued to receive fleeting inspections and that the voices around us had lowered to a gossipy murmur.

As soon as our drinks arrived, Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the pub. Ron and Hermione looked like they were engaged in an amusing conversation, both of them laughing heartily. They sat down at a table near the door. I tensed up as Harry approached the bar.

The very moment Harry spotted us, Draco leaned over and kissed me, entirely oblivious to the fact that we were being watched. He tasted like butterbeer. Harry's eyes widened and his jaw started to drop, but he snapped his mouth closed, his lips disappearing into a thin line. He swung back to the bar, grabbed the butterbeers he'd ordered and marched stiffly to where Ron and Hermione sat.

Mortified, I placed a palm on Draco's chest and gently pushed him away.

"Can we go somewhere else?" I requested.

"Yeah, it's too crowded," he agreed, reaching for the numerous shopping bags that resided under the table.

I slipped out of the booth and squeezed my way along the narrow path to the door, leaving behind my untouched butterbeer. Draco followed close behind me, the paper shopping bags rustling as they bumped against the barstools. I willed myself not to look at Harry as I departed the pub and prayed that Ron hadn't seen me snogging Draco.

Relief washed over me when I found myself back out on the bustling street. The brisk autumn air filled my lungs, causing my body to relax, the muscles in my shoulders to unclench. Draco poked me in the side. I giggled, feeling much less uptight.

"Where to?" he asked.

'Somewhere else' turned out to be Madam Paddifoot's so, naturally, Draco and I ended up in a full-scale snogfest. It was quite lovely; Draco's a brilliant kisser. But my thoughts kept drifting to the mental picture of Harry's stunned expression. I inwardly worried that he would be angry with me.

Angry. Well, to say the least, describing him as angry would be a severe understatement.

We returned to Hogwarts at around 6:30. After dinner, I spent a couple hours in the common room catching up on some homework and quizzing Hermione on her Charms notes. I was still thinking about Harry catching Draco and I kissing in the Three Broomsticks. I'd decided I was going to talk to Harry about it. Even though I wasn't sure what I was to say, I'd made up my mind that discussing the matter, as opposed to pretending it had never happened, would be better in the long run.

Ron and Hermione were in the common room with me. I was relieved that they didn't seem to have any knowledge of The Kiss. Both of them were acting normal; Ron reading by the fire, Hermione begging me to quiz her "just one more time". Seamus and Dean were sitting on the carpet playing cards. A group of younger students I didn't know were in the room as well, chatting quietly.

At 9:15, Harry trudged down from the boy's dormitory looking distressed. He plopped down on a squashy chair and dropped a Transfiguration textbook, a roll of parchment and a quill on the table in front of him.

"All righ', mate?" Ron said, nodding to Harry.

"Mmm," Harry grunted dully.

He wouldn't look at me. He stared down at the open textbook, his brow furrowed in concentration. Yet, it didn't look like he was actually reading. His eyes stayed stationary, focusing on a single point. I tore my gaze away from him and fixed my attention to Hermione's notes.

About a half an hour later, Hermione was finally convinced she'd studied enough and asked me about the new bracelet I was sporting.

"You got this today?" she inquired, fingering the silver chain.

I nodded.

"Doesn't look cheap. How'd you pay for it?"

"Erm, I didn't. Someone bought it for me. As a gift," I replied, trying to keep my voice low.

But I think Harry heard me.

In one fluid motion, he swept up his textbook as he stood then hurled it to the floor. He turned his back to us and paced toward the boy's dormitory, running a hand through his hair.

"God, I can't take this," he muttered.

Silence replaced the soft chatter.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, sounding worried.

Harry spun around. His eyes were filled with fire, revealing suppressed fury. He glared in my direction.

"I can't believe you're with Malfoy," he spat.

"She's what!?" Ron cried, his eyes bugging out.

"That cowardly bastard," Harry hissed, ignoring Ron.

I opened my mouth to defend Draco, but found I couldn't speak. Harry raged on.

"It truly surprises me that you can't see through him. This 'Mr. Nice Guy' thing he's doing. It's all an act, Ginny. He doesn't care about you."

I stood up with such force that all the blood drained from my head, and a dizzy spell came over me.

"He does so care about me."

I tried to speak with conviction, but I was trembling, my voice shaky. The room had fallen deathly silent. Everyone present froze, as if they feared Harry would literally explode if there was any movement.

"No, Ginny. He doesn't."

"How would you even know, Harry?"

"Because I've dealt with him since first year! He doesn't care about anyone but himself! He's a cocky prat, walks around like the sun shines out his arse. And maybe you've forgotten! He's a Slytherin and his father's a Death Eater!"

I was terrified. Never before had I seen Harry the way he was, his cheeks flushed, his face contorted with rage. But I told myself to act unafraid. Taking a step closer to him, I gathered all the strength I had and looked him in the eye.

"It doesn't matter to me what House he's in, or who is father is," I challenged, gritting my teeth. "He respects me! That's what bloody matters! And your prejudiced opinion isn't going to change that!"

"Prejudiced!? You can't be serious! Malfoy's an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, and that's a fact. You'd barely talked to him before the beginning of this school year, and suddenly you think you know him better than I do?"

"I certainly know that he's a more considerate bloke than you'll ever be!" I retorted. At that point, it felt like I was scarcely in control over what surged from my mouth. So much for having a rational discussion.

"Jesus, you're so goddamned naïve!" Harry roared, throwing his arms in the air. "He's won you over just by buying you a load of shit you don't need!"

Leaning even closer to him, I clenched my fists, my arms rigid, and drew in a quivering breath.

"Why—do—you—care?" I shouted, annunciating each word.

"Because I—"

For the first time in our argument, Harry hesitated. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. For a split second, he appeared exposed, defeated.

Hermione rose from the couch. I watched her, confused.

"H-harry," she stammered, almost inaudibly. "Harry, it's her life."

Harry's face had changed. His glare fell to the floor as he shook his head gravely.

After a few long seconds, he viewed me once more. I was astonished that his eyes were teeming with the same sadness they'd possessed when the two of us were by the lake; when he'd unveiled his grievous memory, involving Sirius.

Fixated on me, he finally spoke.

"You know what, Hermione? You're right. It is her life. She can destroy it if she wants to."

With that, he stalked up the stairs to the boy's dormitory, leaving me in a pool of angry words.

I ordered myself to stay strong, not to cry. And I didn't. Not even when I was alone, here, in this bed, unable to sleep, my own resentful voice echoing in my ears.

I'm thoroughly regretting the childish things I said. Yet I'm angry, bitter. Harry said himself that I've the right to make my own choices.

I'm torn between him and Draco. I don't want to lose what I have (or should I say, had) with either of them. I refuse to choose between them. Although, what choice is there to make? Harry doesn't want anything to do with me. After tonight, I feel as if I've become an enemy. It's a hurtful feeling.

But I won't cry.

Besides, what do I care? Harry's got some nerve, telling me I'm wrong, calling me naïve. He's the one that's wrong. Draco does care about me.

.. doesn't he?