Life...

Hermione couldn't believe they had ruined their daughter's dance like that. She stood there in her 'Hera' dress across from her ex-husband 'Zeus', who was for once, speechless.

"Please tell me I just dreamed that." She whispered.

"No." said Ron blatantly, "But this proves one thing. You were wrong about me. And now you have to admit it."

"You are a pigheaded ass." Hermione said as she shoved past him, "I don't have to admit anything." She left the Great hall and hurried up to the Gryffindor Tower. She had only been here once before during her visit, and she wasn't sure if the password had changed. "Befuddled?" she asked.

"Slightly." Muttered the fat lady, as she swung open. Hermione stepped in. The Common room was empty; the dance had only started a half an hour ago. She decided to take her time and let the girls calm down before she sees them. Who knows? They may be very angry.

She sat at the fireplace and stared into the flames. Was Ron lying? He didn't seriously think that she would leave him for Viktor. She had been writing Viktor ever since she was fourteen, and every time they tried dating it was a catastrophe. In their fourth year they went to a dance, which sent Ron into a jealous rage, ruining the night. Then when she was twenty she began dating him again. He spent all of his time obsessing over Quidditch, as if she even cared. Then the one night that they went on a date, a mob of women attacked him as soon as they walked into the restaurant. The date was over, and she couldn't stand being romantically involved with him again.

He was always whining over something. Hermione thought hard. She always thought that he was whining over his dead girlfriend. But it had been four years; he did have time to get over it. It was Ron; he had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon, it probably took him a few months to get over it. So why did she think he was still moping around for her. She wasn't even that pretty. She had short dirty-blonde hair. It was shorter then Ron's hair. She always had "weird sisters" bandana wrapped around her head. She was horribly thin, probably had an eating disorder, and had big eyes that seemed to pop out of her head. Her nose was big and her lips were thin. What had Ron seen in her?

Hermione couldn't wait to get home. She had had it with being around Ron. She would see Hilary at Christmas. She shrugged. She would leave within the hour. It seemed like a perfect idea since Christmas was only a few months away, it would be no time before she was with Hilary again. And Maybe Aila too! She stood and walked to the Girl's Dormitory to say good-bye.

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Ron sat at a table all alone staring at his third bottle of firewiskey. Hermione had left as soon as she came. He had left the dance a couple minutes after Hermione. What was he doing wrong? He was the same Ron she fell in love with at Hogwarts, wasn't he? He stood up and pounded four galleons onto the table. He nodded at the bartender and wobbled his way out. He looked down the street and he couldn't see things clearly. "Lumos." he muttered as he stuck his wand out across the street and stepped out onto the road.

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Loretta Price held onto the bar by the door. She was the Knight Bus greeter. Her light blonde hair was pulled up into a coil on her head. That was only a few more jerks from falling out. The bus made a large jerk and they were on the side of the street in Hogsmede by the 'Hog's Head' bar. She heard a muffled yell of pain.

Frightened she spun around and looked at the passengers. All of them seemed fin and were actually looking relieved as opposed to in pain. "I think it was from out there." Said Stan, the driver.

Loretta quickly jumped out of the bus and looked around. She heard moaning from in front of the bus. She saw a man lying in front of the bus, clearly unconscious. He had flaming red hair and was obviously fairly tall, taller then 6 feet. She ran up to him and saw that he had been hit by the bus and was bleeding. "Stan!" she screamed, "Stan we've hit someone!"

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Aila stared at her father who was lying motionless on a bed in St. Mungos. From what she heard he had a concussion, a fractured skull, three broken ribs, a broken leg, some minor internal breeding, and possible brain damage. She couldn't stand it. He had been her best friend and now…

She shook her head and tried not to think negatively. Hilary had been with her, but had to leave from after completely breading down and had to go to a special ward to take a calming draught because she was shaking so hard. Aila felt that it was her duty to stay by her father at all times until he was awake and ready to go home. She looked at his chest move up and down. She was so glad to see he was breathing. If only she could talk to him, if only he could reassure her he was all right.

"Ale-uh" he grunted unexpectedly, "Er-my-nee." Aila leaned closer, hoping to understand. But he didn't say anything else. She slumped back in her chair, frustrated. That was the only sign of life he had shown ever since they put him into a magical sleep while his wounds healed further. Normally he just lay there. Like he was dead.

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Hilary felt so dumb after her breakdown in the hospital room. She was now lying on her own bed feeling a little dizzy from the calming drought. She was calm now but pictures in her head popped up as she thought about walking into her father's room, and seeing him lying there, unconscious, and badly injured, only two days after finally meeting him. It was too much. She wanted, even needed, her mother at a time like this, but after their fight she ran away. It would be another day or two until her mother would get the owl she sent.

She tried to sit up but the dizziness over came her and she fell over onto her pillow. Did this normally make you dizzy? Or was this a reaction? She didn't know. She had never taken a calming draught before in her life! So she stared at the ceiling tiles. They were blank white. What is the point of being wizards if they can't even use it for something as simple as decoration. Maybe yellow or blue would be a better color, but white?

It reminded her of the color of her father's face, completely devoid of color. Even the freckles normally scattered across his face seemed to have turned white. She turned her head and saw the walls. They were the same. White. Her sheets were white, here dressing gown given to her after her breakdown was white, everything white. She closed her eyes. It was black. She felt cold. She felt alone. This wasn't a calming draught. Or she wouldn't feel like closing her eyes was dying.

Hilary racked her brains. Maybe the healer said something about what she had given her. She remembered being laid down by a healer and told that she would have to drink this thing in the cup. But what did she say it was? Then she groggily remembered. "Sleeping Draught." As she closed her eyes and her breathing became calm.

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A/N: I am so sorry that I took so long to update! I intended to finish this chapter a month ago! Please forgive me and I will try my hardest to get the next one up MUCH sooner!