Title: Outcast

Summary: Love is like riding a broomstick. Some people are addicted to it and others just can't seem to get the hang of it.

Disclaimer: I own the plot, which makes me very happy.

A/N: I loved the fourth movie. It was brilliant and Ron was especially cute.

A/N: Wow...18th chapter and they've only kissed once. This is a record. Still loving this story, girls?

Hermione looked around her bedroom once more. She wondered aloud what things would be like next year when she returned to Hogwarts for the final time. Would she be sleeping in a Girls' Dormitory again? Or maybe she'd become prefect and get her own room. What would she prefer? If things worked out well this summer...but perhaps it would be too much to ask for. Yet this was what she had been hoping for, wasn't it? A chance to prove herself a true friend and regain their trust. Wasn't this exactly what she had wanted when she had spoken up in the Great Hall? Then why was it suddenly not good enough? Why did she want, no, need more?

Ron had been right. She did not want to die. She just didn't know for sure if she wanted to live. She wasn't sure if she could deal with emotions again, having ignored them for such a long time. Her only solution to those confusing feelings was her razor, and she had given it to Ron. Her most prized possession was now in the hands of someone her head didn't trust. Her heart did. Her heart had persuaded her to give up, give in to him. She wanted to be better again. She wanted to spend summers at the Burrow like she used to do. She wanted to be able to laugh, to talk to her friends. She wanted to hold hands with Ron and allow him to lead her anywhere. She was safe with him. She needed him to be there if she wanted any chance for recovery. And he would be there. She was sure of it.

Was she? Part of her wondered...was scared that he would ignore her again. That he would not kiss her again. Part of her was scared that he would. Kiss her. She wasn't sure if she could handle that. It was too much. Too strong an emotion. Yet it was the only thing that kept her going.

Taking up her suitcase she looked around the room once more, spotting some faded stains of blood on the floor. She allowed herself one look in the mirror. She was so scared, yet her reflection showed a strong young woman. A girl with bright eyes, somehow vibrating life again. She knew that she did not look like that young woman now, but it made her feel slightly more hopeful. Maybe she could be that girl again.

"Hermione!"

Hermione had just stuffed her suitcases in a compartment when Ginny called her from a few compartments away. She looked up, half a smile on her face. Would Ginny ask her to sit with them on the ride home? She had not dared to invite herself to their circle again.

"Come."

Ginny beckoned, a look in her eyes that made it clear she wasn't sure about this either. Hermione hesitated.

"I don't know if that's smart..."

She answered quietly, though there was nothing she wanted more than to sit with them, pretending that things were all right. Fixing things, so she would no longer have to play pretend.

Ginny walked towards her and stopped a few steps from Hermione. The two girls looked at each other for the longest time. Both stayed silent. Then, suddenly, Ginny smiled.

"I don't know either..."

She said calmly.

"But if we don't try, we'll never know. Besides...isn't this the compartment Malfoy usually sits in?"

She took up Hermione's suitcase, as to make sure that she wouldn't protest anymore, and began walking back. Hermione bit her lip softly, and followed.

Things had been rather enjoyable on the ride home, except for a few tense moments when Luna had started about memorycharms. Ginny had smiled apologetically at Hermione and changed the subject to Quidditch. Unlike other times, Hermione actually joined in on the conversation, feeling that she would rather talk with them about things that didn't interest her in the slightest, than doing something for herself again. She had been alone long enough. She did not want to be alone when in a crowd.

When the train slowed down and they were about to heave their luggage from the luggage rack, Hermione pulled Ron aside slightly.

"Ron...do they know? Your parents?"

"About what?"

Ron answered seriously, looking at her.

"Our fight? I know you didn't tell them about the other thing...I mean...you didn't, right?"

He shook his head.

"They think we've been fine all year. Don't worry about it 'Mione. Things will be all right."

I hope so, she thought, before following them onto the platform.

A few days into their holiday Hermione was sitting in the garden, reflecting on the time she had thus far spent at the Weasleys. Things had been awkward whenever Molly and Arthur weren't around, which was most of the time. She had spent a lot of that time outside, just sitting in the garden, thinking. How was this supposed to help her in any way? Ron had talked to her once, mumbling something about how he didn't want to hurt his sister and that Ginny needed more time to come to terms with things. Only after Ginny had talked to them could they be friends. But what if Ginny never wanted to talk to her? She had invited her to the compartment, yes, but perhaps Ron had asked her to. Perhaps she just wanted to be polite, or felt guilty about the fight they'd been having all year long. Or maybe, just maybe, she wanted them to have spent a little time together before seeing her parents, so things would be civilised when in company.

As Hermione was mulling these things over she didn't hear the approach of another person. Her eyes were focused on the trees and she sat on the porch, her chin resting slightly in her hands. Suddenly that other person was sitting next to her, an arm wrapped itself around Hermione's shoulder. She looked aside. Ginny was smiling slightly, staring straight ahead. After a few seconds, Hermione turned her head back and gazed in the distance.

About an hour later Ginny stood up again. Instead of walking away immediately, she looked at Hermione until the brown-haired girl looked back up at her. Hermione didn't know what to say, yet she felt like she should say something. Just when she was about to open her mouth, Ginny spoke.

"Thanks."

Hermione watched Ginny with a puzzled look on her face. What was she saying thanks for? She felt like she should have been the one to say thank you, not Ginny.

"What for?"

She asked curiously.

"For not saying anything just now. It was nice to be able to sit in companionable silence with you. I missed that."

Ginny admitted softly, before returning inside.

Hermione felt tears stinging in her eyes, yet at the same time she could not stop a smile from appearing on her face.

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