The last week at Hogwarts for Harry had possibly been his least enjoyable yet. Although arguably, it was relatively quiet compared to the times he had endured there in previous years. In fact, aside from the mysterious, cursed necklace that Harry knew had something to do with a certain blonde Slytherin, and the strange lessons he was given by Dumbledore who was pressing him to retrieve answers from Slughorn, Harry wondered if this was the quietest year he had endured so far at his time at Hogwarts - aside from the looming war, of course. But alas, that didn't necessarily mean Harry was enjoying his sixth year at the magical school.

All of his life, Harry had not a single friend. People at his primary school may have gotten on with him, if they weren't told ridiculous stories about how 'weird' and 'mental' he was by his awful cousin, Dudley, which frightened enough people away from him. That and the fact Harry would find himself in situations he could not explain at the time, which confirmed many people's fears that he wasn't a normal boy. But when Harry boarded the maroon train and a redheaded boy had shyly asked if he could accompany Harry in his compartment, his many years of loneliness and the feeling of always being excluded soon mattered not to him. Once he and the redhead had also befriended a bushy haired, fellow Gryffindor, Harry's previous dismal, isolated life had become a whirlwind of fun and laughter. He got on with each of his two friends very well, finding similarities between himself and each of them in different ways. And, aside from the constant bickering, the two seemed to get on just as well. However, as their years unfolded, the two's ominous bickering often escalated into larger arguments where they would both act stubbornly, reaching weeks of never speaking to one another, leaving Harry to be left inbetween, like a child of divorced parents, always having to split time between the two and always listening to their rants about each other.

But as Harry had commenced his sixth year, a glimmer of hope shimmered through their friendship, as the two had gone nearly three months without arguing too greatly. There were, of course, the same bickers and petty squabbles about nothing at all, but Harry had grown far too used to that. They even seemed to be getting on better, better than Harry had ever seen. But alas, the period of bliss between his two friends soon ended, and for a reason Harry hadn't quite understood, and led him to wonder if he had missed something over the years. This adamant, mutual avoidance of each other didn't stem from the assumptions of a cat eating a rat, or the prospect of one betraying Hogwarts by attending a dance with a Quidditch player from a foreign school, no, this seemed to stem from something unspoken.

As much as Harry was happy to see his best friend with a girl who seemed to adore him, albeit rather obsessively, Harry couldn't help but think that Ron was making a tremendous mistake, allowing this completely out of the blue fondness of Lavender Brown to ruin his friendship with Hermione, who had been his best friend since he was eleven. Harry also didn't understand why Hermione wouldn't just speak to Ron about - whatever was going on between them, but instead completely ignoring him as if he had done something obviously wrong, which Harry couldn't exactly pinpoint. But then he reminded himself that he had no idea when it came to girls, even if the one at hand was his best friend, whose situation was involving his other best friend. Either way you looked at it, Harry had no idea what to do. So, for the past week he had to endure the familiar arguments from both parties about how each were acting totally immaturely, and that neither were too eager to make amends with the other. However, Harry felt that on Hermione's behalf at least, it wasn't just the same petty anger they had held before, Hermione seemed to feel not just annoyed, but an emotion deeper that Harry could not quite decipher. He wondered if it had anything to do with the question she had asked him a week ago, about seeing someone you liked with someone else. But surely, if Hermione liked Ron she would be more lenient and be the one to make amends. Girls, Harry thought.

So, at breakfast on this autumnal Thursday morning, Harry queered the same suggestion he had been making all week. "Why don't you just try to speak to her?" He asked hopefully.

"And say what?" Ron asked incredulously, shoving an egg into his mouth rather ungracefully.

"I don't know, say 'sorry' or something?"

"Sorry for what? What have I done?"

As much as he'd like to, Harry didn't really have an answer, not a clear one, anyway. Nothing about this situation was clear or plain. It never was with Ron and Hermione. Harry sighed audibly before looking down the long Gryffindor bench until he spotted Hermione, who was sat with Ginny and some other girls that Harry vaguely recognised but didn't know. All thoughts had terminated anyway as he watched Ginny chatter away. It pained him to think that Dean Thomas of all people got to be the recipient of most of Ginny's time. The time that Harry so longed to have himself. He could then sympathise with Hermione, which made everything just all the more complicated. He decided not to intervene anymore, he didn't know what else he could do to summon his stubborn friends. So he would just leave them to it.

It had been an eventful week for Ron, a lot more eventful than he could've imagined. He wasn't really sure how, but he had landed himself a girlfriend. Lavender Brown. She was pretty, especially in her chest area. Maybe that's what kept Ron so distracted all week. What made this week quite so eventful, however, was the fact that one of his best friends had stopped talking to him. He couldn't hide from the fact that guilt consumed him as he watched her run away in clear upset that night Gryffindor had won the opening match. But, when he had tried to speak to her about it, Hermione was completely and utterly rude to him. Just ignored him. How could she be angry with him when he had tried to make amends with her? After that, he gave up and became quite angry about how rude she now was. The distance between them increased, and now they were in a state of mutual ignorance. Neither spoke to the other. If Ron wasn't so occupied with Lavender, who hardly gave him a chance to breathe between the copious snogs, maybe he would realise just how much he missed Hermione, even only a week after not speaking to her. But he was far too angry now to worry about deep, buried feelings. After all, he did try to talk to her, it was her with the problem.

Guilt did still often emerge, however. He knew that Lavender was being especially loud and ditsy when Hermione would walk, swiftly, through the common room. He knew that she was purposefully avoiding him, subsequently she was spending less time with Harry. Ron could tell she wasn't herself. It had only been a matter of days, but she quickly transformed from possibly the closest person to him, to a mere stranger. No, even a stranger wouldn't act so coldly towards him. The only time he got to properly look at her was during lessons, which she wouldn't so much as acknowledge his presence. He didn't dare speak to her after how she had walked away from him when he had tried. He just watched as she worked as hard as she always did, possibly even harder. He would just watch.

A week. A whole seven days had passed since Hermione had fled from a scene she could never have prepared herself for. The first few days were particularly difficult, Ron had tried all of once to speak to her, and even that was a mere attempt. He just came and approached her in the middle of the common room and had a go about how weird Hermione had been acting. How dare he? Hermione thought. She just upped and left without even retaliating, she knew it was too painful for her to do so.

Hermione had spent the week mainly in the library, enduring even more time there than she usually would. When she did have to be reminded of Ron and that tart, it was in the common room during late hours. Hermione knew that Lavender would make a point of snogging Ron even more animatedly when she would enter through the portrait hole. She wouldn't give either of them the satisfaction, however. She walked through the common room without so much as a glance of acknowledgement towards them, even though she was very aware that they were there. It had only been a week, yet every night since the third day of suffering it, Hermione would set a silencing charm around her bed so she wouldn't have to listen to Lavender gushing about Ron. Hermione found it all too comical, really. Yes, it had only been a week but Lavender knew nothing about Ron. They clearly just spent their time like animals, rather than actually having real conversations. What a relationship, Hermione thought.

One week turned into two, which turned into three. Hermione was still avoiding Ron and it was becoming quite a bit easier as time wore on. She was still spending late hours in the library, Madam Pince had even issued her a key so Hermione could lock up once she was ready to brace the common room, after hours. Harry and Ginny came to visit her quite frequently, Harry talking about Quidditch which only made Hermione think of Ron, Ginny only mentioned how much of a prat her brother was being occasionally, otherwise she would ramble on about other ongoings in her life, such as Dean, Quidditch and other things. But Hermione didn't even need Ginny to mention something that had connotations to Ron, one look at her freckled face and Hermione was instantly brought back to times where she would gaze at a similar yet different freckled face. As much as she appreciated Harry and Ginny's visits, they would often turn into, especially from Harry's part, them suggesting that she at least spoke to Ron. But Hermione wouldn't.

This is what Ginny and Harry didn't seem to understand, through no fault of their own. This wasn't just a petty squabble, this wasn't just waiting for one to apologise to the other after calling the one a nasty name, this went deeper. Maybe not even for Ron, but this went far deeper for Hermione. As successful as she had been at isolating Ron from her life, it was still hard. And it was of course impossible to completely remove him from her existence, no matter how much easier things would be if she could. At meals, he was there. When Hermione would begrudgingly watch Harry and Ginny play Quidditch, he was there. During lessons, he was there. But that didn't just mean he was there, that meant she was there, too. Maybe it wouldn't be so easy to have a disdain for Lavender if she wasn't such a horrible girl, always pointedly displaying her affection for Ron when Hermione was around. Hermione was sick of it, but maybe she was starting to grow numb to it, blocking it out did definitely become easier. But no matter how numb she at least thought she was becoming, whenever her and Ron's eyes met, albeit completely accidentally, Hermione felt the urge to run, from him, from them, from everything. It was too much.

With only a week to go until Professor Slughorn's party that would take place only a few days before Christmas, Hermione needed to find someone else to go with before it was too late and everyone who wasn't going to the Party would take the earlier train a day before the event, leaving everyone who did attend to catch a later train the day after.

Hermione sat up in her bed, awake earlier than all of the girls in the dormitory, as always, even though she couldn't hear or see them. Sitting up with a mug of tea in her hand, going over some Potions notes, Hermione's mind drifted back to the Party. It was a matter that she had usually shoved to the back of her mind, it was something that she had planned on attending with him, after all, but situations had changed and Hermione had to react, sooner rather than later. She couldn't bare the thought of going alone, simply because she didn't need Ron thinking she was too pathetic to go without him. Placing down the still hot mug, Hermione left her bed to move to a window that was only really accessible by crossing over her bed, so Hermione revelled in the privacy it gave.

Sitting on the window sill, she watched over the snowy white fields that ran down away from the castle. It was a rather beautiful morning, Hermione always found the Hogwarts fields rather blissful, it was much a contrast to the busy streets of Henley. However, as she gazed into the empty, beautiful expanse, her mind was taken back to another place that Hermione had deemed one of her homes-away-from-home. A pit formed in her stomach as she realised this was the first Christmas in five years that she wouldn't be spending either at Hogwarts or The Burrow, thinking of the tall building that still held such a heavy place in Hermione's heart, caused a lump to form in her throat. Would she ever spend any time there ever again? Catching up with the Weasley siblings as they talked about their each different yet busy lives, helping Mrs Weasley with the cooking and housework, fascinating Mr Weasley with stories of Muggle life. Without Ron, Hermione had no place at The Burrow. Yes, of course there was Ginny, who was still one of Hermione's close friends. But so long as she and Ron weren't speaking - and she couldn't see herself speaking to him for a long time - Hermione could never bring herself to returning to his home. And then the dreaded thought appeared in Hermione's mind. There was a strong chance that Lavender would be invited to spend Christmas at the Weasleys'. Tears threatened as Hermione thought about how lucky Lavender - who had no idea - would be. To be welcomed into such a perfect family. Tears filled her eyes as she realised that was something that had been taken away from her, much like her old life, much like Ron. Blinking away the tears, Hermione shook herself and reminded herself of the task at hand; finding someone to ask to Slughorn's party. Hermione wasn't spoilt for choice, and no matter what alternative she tried to find, her mind kept resolving back to Cormac McLaggen. Hermione didn't very much like Cormac, she definitely didn't approve of the way he treated other girls. He had even tried it on with her once.

Hermione was walking down the corridor on her way from another Slug Club meeting, when Cormac had crept up behind her in what he obviously thought was an alluring way, but Hermione tried hard to stifle a gag. He slurred the words, "alright, Granger. I'm sick of your teasing, it's clear you want me. Why don't I just say yes, so you don't even have to ask. I'm nice like that."

Hermione picked up her speed as he made the insinuation. It was difficult for Hermione not to laugh, incredulously, at the notion that she was trying to tease him in any way at all. "Say yes to what, Cormac?"

"To go with you to the party. Come on now, Granger. I thought you were meant to be the clever one?" He scoffed back.

Hermione was at a war with herself to not roll her eyes. Was this the tantalising charm that so many girls simply 'couldn't run away from'? Not very likely. But that didn't matter, because at the time, Hermione had arranged to attend the party with Ron. "Sorry, Cormac, if I gave you any sort of impression." - which she highly doubted - "But I'm going with someone else, I'm afraid."

"Who?" Cormac spat, stopping in his tracks, clearly shocked to be rejected.

Hermione rolled her eyes, losing control of herself. "Ron Weasley, if you must know." She answered.

"That fool?" Cormac scoffed.

Hermione felt resentment towards the pigheaded Gryffindor. "Yes. And as delightful as this exchange was, I'm going to have to leave." Hermione said coldly as she walked off, leaving Cormac to mutter rude words of frustration.

Back to present day, Hermione shook her head at the now rather sad memory. And the fact that she would have to completely swallow her pride and - the thought made her cringe - ask out Cormac McLaggen. She knew exactly how disgustingly he would react. And she couldn't bare the thought. But nevertheless, that's exactly what she planned. Later that evening, perhaps, she'd pull him away from his equally crude friends and somehow ask him if he wanted to go with her, if he hadn't manipulated another twenty girls to go with him, that is.

Hermione walked tentatively to the frozen field that Cormac and his friends had usually gathered. There they were, enjoying a snowball fight. Hermione smiled at the affair. She always found it quite endearing whenever she saw people of Hogwarts participating in something so lighthearted. It reminded her that there was indeed light in the world, despite all that was going on with Voldemort. It made Hermione feel shame, more than anything else, to be in such a petty situation involving some sort of strange love triangle. But it wasn't just that for Hermione, Ron had hurt her in a way she never expected him to, and that was exactly why she was striding over to the awful Cormac.

Cormac's friends wolf whistled as Hermione walked pointedly over to Cormac. He chuckled with his friends, giving her a sideways glance before returning his attention to the snowball game. "What do I owe this pleasure, Granger?"

"Well, actually." Hermione sighed. "I have something to ask you."

"You may."

"Sorry?"

"You may ask me your question."

Hermione felt a sense of regret as she tried to find the words. "Well, I was wondering whether or not you had a date for Slughorn's party?" She asked, despite herself.

Cormac finally stopped playing with his friends and gave them a wave, before properly turning to Hermione and chuckled. Hermione gave him a look that she was sure portrayed her resentment, but if he noticed, he didn't let it dampen his high spirits. "Really, Granger? They all come crawling back, don't they?" He laughed.

Hermione could've gagged. What a pompous prat, she thought. But swallowing her potentially unlawful words, she simply feigned a chuckle in order to stroke Cormac's overgrowing ego. "So, is there an answer to my question?" She asked, more impatiently than she would have planned up on the window sill of the girls' dormitory, but Cormac had completely ignored the fact that he and Hermione were mid-conversation and had gone back to jousting with his friends.

"What?" Cormac said noncommittally. "Oh, Granger. You're still here are you? To answer your question, no. This lion's yet to be tied down."

Hermione once again hoped that her face didn't convey the disgust that she felt towards the (somehow) Gryffindor. Taking a moment to remind herself of the aim, she sighed before blurting out, "I think I'm the one who will". She cringed inwardly.

"Who will what, Granger?" Cormac asked, attention still with the boys and their game.

"Tie you down." Hermione was amazed that she didn't retch at herself.

Cormac was clearly taken aback as he finally stopped, put down the current snowball in his gloved hand, and turned to Hermione, whom he towered over. "Is that so?" He smirked. Hermione felt discomfort at the fact she was flirting with someone who she had absolutely no feelings for, despite disgust of course. Maybe this is wrong? She asked herself in her mind. Not even Cormac deserved to be led on, would he expect this to be some sort of commencing of their relationship? Would he actually be hurt at the revelation that she wanted nothing to do with him other than to get a reaction from her ex-bestfriend? Was Cormac capable of being hurt? Could he feel any other emotions than greed? But Hermione was pulled out of her musings, as Cormac announced, "alright, Granger. I'll go with you. As long as there's nothing going on with you and Weasel?"

At that comment, Hermione was strongly reminded of Draco Malfoy. "Th-there's not." Hermione assured, although she wasn't really convincing herself, let alone anyone else.

Cormac nodded, smugly. "Alright." He then bent down so he could speak into Hermione's ear. "Don't wear any corsets, they're far too intricate for quick affairs." He whispered. Hermione backed away and looked up with fear at his suggestive words. Cormac could obviously tell that she felt rather uneasy. He said, "Relax, Granger. One's just making conversation." He winked before him and his friends started to exit the field for dinner.

Hermione sighed with her eyes closed, she instantly regretted asking him. If only he was a decent human being, she might've actually gotten on with him. But no. If Hermione wasn't mistaken, he had just requested that she steered away from clothing that was too fiddly. She groaned as she rubbed her eyes, what had she gotten herself into?

It was only a few short days until the awaited Christmas Party. Cormac's stolen smirks, that would be so innocent if he hadn't implied what he had when she had invited him, only heightened Hermione's nerves for the upcoming event. Her and Ron had still not so much as smiled at each other since the night that Hermione had found him seemingly trying to devour Lavender Brown. The memory still made her tummy turn with sadness, but she still wasn't letting any of that show. And she was apparently doing a rather good job of it. Every time she had incidentally made eye contact with the red headed idiot, Hermione could see something more than just frustration or anger. The blue orbs appeared to have another emotion embedded, an emotion Hermione couldn't quite register. Guilt? Regret? She convinced herself that she was only fooling her own heart. Of course he didn't feel any sort of remorse, he had made that abundantly clear.

Hermione sat in the stands of the final Quidditch training session before the Christmas break. As always, there was only a small number of people scattered about the stands. Of course, as Hermione had always expected, she was there. If Hermione had learnt anything from this time of her life, was that she was quite good at ignoring people, no matter the vicinity. But it didn't even take her presence for Lavender Brown to be highly disliked by Hermione Granger. All throughout the training session, Lavender produced the same grating squeals and shouts up to her 'Won Won'. The name made Hermione gag, nevertheless, she found it quite funny in a way, simply because she knew Ron would hate it. Hermione tried hard to only see Harry, Ginny and the other players in the air, each training session or match that she attended. It should've been easier to ignore him, really, Ron always wore his helmet during Quidditch that clung to his head, hiding his flaming locks. But somehow that made it more difficult; Hermione had to reprimand herself every time that she would try and sought him out in amongst the other players. She still wasn't over him. Would there ever be a time?

Training soon ended, Harry gave his farewell speech as the captain, and Hermione noticed the number of people around her decrease. She waited though, Harry had asked to speak with her after the session had finished, Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably as she already predicted the topic of conversation. And sure enough, Harry came traipsing up the steps to sit beside her in the stands, and as he did he gave an apologetic smile as if to brace her for the same thing she had listened to for the last month.

"Hey." Harry began sheepishly.

Hermione turned to look at him, and noticed as her head moved that Lavender was already seemingly attempting to suffocate Ron as he walked down the pitch. "Hi." She replied with a weak smile.

"He misses you, you know." Harry stated as he noticed what had caught Hermione's attention.

Hermione just chuckled mirthlessly. "Does he really?" She asked, unconvinced. Determined to change the subject, she quickly asked, "who are you taking to Slughorn's party?"

Harry seemed to contemplate his answer which made Hermione weary. Eventually he opened his mouth in an attempt to speak. "I-I hadn't thought about it." He all but muttered, looking down to the muddy floor of the Quidditch stand.

"Harry! It's next week!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I don't even know if I'm going." He blurted out.

Hermione looked at him with a sad realisation. "Oh."

"Well, I just think it's pointless. I'm never gonna get Slughorn on his own at that bloody party, he's only ever going to want to show off about teaching me to his friends." Harry scrambled. Hermione smirked at him, teasingly. "Oh, come on. You know I don't mean it in a vain way, that's just all he does." Harry explained.

"So, you're taking the first train back, are you?" Hermione asked, glumly, as she played with the frayed ends of her scarf, observing the never ending scene of Ron and that awful girl.

"I dunno." Harry sighed. "I just wished you two would bloody make up and move on." He confessed.

Hermione didn't say anything at his outburst, maybe he never would understand what it was like from Hermione's perspective. She continued to watch Ron and Lavender, as if she was being forced to watch the scariest film that existed, and was put under a trance where she couldn't avert her eyes. Lavender was being her usual obnoxious self, and this time, as she tilted her head back in melodramatic laughter, Hermione nearly gasped as she noticed a small mark on her neck that relayed a thousand words. Hermione tried to blink back the tears that she hadn't realised she was still able to shed over him.

"I'll stay." Harry said, Hermione had nearly forgotten that he was there. She turned to him, questioningly. "I can't let you go to that party on your own. It'll be awful enough as it is." Harry chuckled.

Hermione smiled and muttered a 'thank you'.