Disclaimer: This is not mine. Please don't sue me.

Note: This is dedicated to my mother, who died recently. Sorry for not updating.

Chapter 5

"The only thing worse than a girl who hates you is a girl who loves you." –The Book Thief

Hermione's PoV

Why? Why did he do that? Hermione asked herself angrily. She touched her hand to her lips and shuddered.

Dracos' PoV

"Why did I do that?" Draco muttered under his breath. I hate her, he reminded himself. I hate her. And she's a mudblood. Yuck. He wiped his lips with disgust.

Regular PoV

Hermione avoided Draco at all of her classes. She saw him briefly after dinner, but she stalked off to his room to do her homework while he did his in the common room.

There was a light knock on her door. Obviously, it could only be one person. Malfoy. Hermione didn't reply, but the door opened slowly anyway.

"Hermione?" Draco asked softly.

"What?" she said, keeping her eyes glued on her History of Magic essay.

"I feel… like you're avoiding me," he said. "After what happened…"

Finally she looked up. "Nothing happened, Malfoy," she said with a bored tone.

He just looked at her. "You mean you're going to pretend nothing happened?" Draco said with disbelief.

Now Hermione was really paying attention. "Nothing did happen. I just want you to leave me alone!" She suddenly erupted. "You kissed me. So what? I still hate you, and you still hate me. Just… just go."

Draco gave her a cold stare, then walked out of her room, shutting the door a little harder than necessary.

Draco's PoV

What was that? He thought with disgust. Why did I do that?

It was just one of those things. Something you do, impulsively. And when you look back on it, it all seems incredibly stupid.

Regular PoV

Hermione sat on her bed, staring at the door. She remembered all of those times, with Ron, where she would be doing her homework, and he would sit there, his arms wrapped around her. Something twinged in her heart.

"Ron!" Lavender called.

He leaped out in front of her suddenly and twirled her around in his arms.

She laughed, and gave him a kiss on his forehead as he set her down.

That had hurt so much. It still killed her now. And maybe, because of it, her heart had turned slowly but steadily to ice. A new shard freezing over every time she saw them.

Hermione didn't blame Lavender, because she knew Lavender was innocent. She didn't know anything about Hermione and Ron's breakup, how much she had loved him. Lavender had no idea.

Ron did. He knew exactly how Hermione felt about him. But still, he chose to hurt her.

They hadn't talked about it for so long. It was buried under all of these weeks, but it was still there, constricting her heartbeat. Hermione had tried to talk to Ron about it. But he had brushed her off lightly, and rather than cause herself more anguish, she dropped it. And then he started avoiding her; spending more time with Harry and Lavender. He acted like nothing had happened.

And it made her want to scream. Just to be acknowledged, but to know that she had once been loved.

Hermione held herself, and rocked herself to sleep, her essay remaining unfinished in her lap.

"Granger!" Someone yelled angrily. "Granger!"

Hermione opened her eyes slowly, her eyes still encrusted with sleep.

"What?" she whispered. Then she repeated herself louder. She sat up.

Malfoy stood in front of her, his arms crossed, looking annoyed. "McGonagall wants you. She came by a few minutes ago. She says to come immediately."

"What did she want?" She inquired sleepily.

"I have no idea," he said emotionlessly.

"Ok…thanks," Hermione said, and allowed herself one yawn before jumping out of bed.

"What?" Hermione asked, her face straining with anticipation. She looked like a wreck. Her head was a bird's nest, her clothes wrinkled, her feet bare. Hermione didn't care though; when did she ever care?

McGonagall looked at her with pity, pursing her lips.

"Just say it! God, stop looking at me like that," said Hermione, now infuriated.

"Your mother, Hermione…" she said softly.

Hermione stopped cold. Her face turned a white only comparable to a sheet of paper. "What? WHAT??!!!" Her mouth trembled.

McGonagall looked at her. "She's dead, Hermione. It was what the muggles call… a heart attack… They didn't have time to save her."

Hermione didn't react. "Ha ha," she said weakly. "That's funny."

"I'm not joking, Hermione."

Then it set in for real. Of course McGonagall wasn't joking. McGonagall never joked.

Hermione took a breath and screamed, not bothering to cover her mouth.

Surprisingly, McGonagall was unfazed. "I'm so sorry, Hermione," she said. And she awkwardly enveloped Hermione in a hug.

Hermione pulled away. She gasped, and held her face in her hands as she sobbed inhumanly long sobs. "Why?" she yelled, her voice trembling. "Why? Why did she have to go? No! No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

McGonagall tried to console her. "Do you want me to send for your friends?" she asked.

"No. Can't you see I want to be alone?" Hermione said. And once again, she pushed away someone who could have helped her.

"I am so, so sorry," McGonagall said gently, her sharp eyes watering. "If you need anything…" But Hermione was already out of the office, running back to her dorm.

The hallways were clear, classes had not yet begun.

"Password please," the portrait to the Head Girl and Boy's room said placidly.

"Aratamortis." She said, her sobs breaking up the word. "Just open, goddamnit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" she screamed at it. "Aratamortis!"

It opened. "My, my, aren't we touchy today," it said as it admitted her.

Hermione ignored it.

She jumped inside and ran as fast as she could to her room, where she locked the door and threw herself on the bed.

She stared at the ceiling, than pulled the covers up over her head, trying to drown out the world. And then everything, everything that had been bottled up in Hermione's head exploded, her mother's death the last push. She screamed into her pillow, but it didn't muffle her voice that much.

Her mother. Her mother had been a friend. She was eager, she loved Hermione, she wanted the best for her. But she was more than just a mother. She was someone Hermione could count on, someone who Hermione could discuss anything with. And now… And now she was gone. It was stunning, hard to believe, hard to even imagine.

She didn't hear the light knock on her door. She didn't hear Draco pounding on it. He whispered, "Alohomora," and the door swung open.

"God," he said with revulsion. "Could you be any louder. Just cease the temper tantrum please!"

She looked at him with hollow eyes, her sobbing subsiding momentarily.

"Thank you. Now we can just go back to ignoring each other. Okay?" Draco said with a sneer.

Her voice was raspy but fierce when she finally spoke. "You think this is a temper tantrum? You're probably happy. You're happy she died. I hate you!" She said.

Draco looked at her with piercing eyes. "What?" he said. "Who died?"

"My mother, you bastard. Now leave me alone." And with that, Hermione threw the closest thing to her at him, a book. It hit him in the stomach. He backed out of the room, and Hermione shut her swollen eyes, crying without making any noise.

It hurt. The pain was all there, on the surface, tearing her up from inside. Any voice of reason was gone. She was just bare. Alone, and scared.

She drew the covers back over her head.

She did not resurface.

PLEASE REVIEW I worked really hard on this chapter. I hope it touched you. It certainly touched me. It's basically what happened my mother died. BTW, "she did not resurface" quote from New Moon by Stephenie Meyer. It's not mine.