Hermione POV

It had taken every ounce of my self control to appear warm and welcoming over the last hour and that control was rapidly slipping. My chance to repair the friendships in person that I had abandoned had come, but it felt wrong to hug the two men that had shown up at my room, and it wasn't just because one of those sets of arms had held me a little too long. We had been sitting in the small sitting area of my dorm while the two of them held most of the conversation. The silent ebbs in their conversations and the limited, difficult, responses on my part seemed to go entirely unnoticed by both Ron and Harry. They probably chalked it up to my PTSD though the truth was that it was not only the fact that I had trouble speaking, there was nothing I wanted to say. I'd said it all in the letters that I had sent to each of them. It certainly didn't help that I wasn't even angry at their lack of attention to my presence. I was feeling entirely the opposite of how I'd felt when Theo and Malfoy had broken into my room, when I was angry and turned on. I was bored and turned off, which seemed to make no difference to Ron. He kept trying to sit closer to me on the couch, and I kept having to move farther and farther away. There was nothing I wanted more than to kick them both out and go back to rereading the book that Theo had given me for the dozenth time.

"We should get going to the match," Harry said, finally freeing me from their presence. Ron and Harry were going to be the opening announcers for the quidditch game, and I was finally going to be alone again. At least that's what I had planned, until I received an expectant look when I failed to follow them towards the door, and reached for my book instead. Well…Harry looked expectant, Ron looked amused.

"Is that one of those trashy muggle romance books?" He asked with a laugh and I rolled my eyes. Of course he would have something to say about it. I just hoped he would leave it at that. No such luck. "If you were lonely, you could have sent me an owl, 'Mione."

I would rather fucking die.

Harry blushed ever so slightly at Ron's words- clearly uncomfortable. It's not that he didn't know we had slept together. I was sure hearing it was still strange. Probably as strange as it was knowing Ron was sleeping his way through all of the wizarding world these days. The first news stories of 'the famous wizard bachelor's escapades' had been published shortly after my reply letter to Ron when he'd asked me if anything had changed as to my thoughts on us continuing dating. I made it perfectly clear in my next letter that the ship of Romione had long since sailed, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean.

His ridiculous words didn't even justify an attempted response and I was thankful when Harry changed the subject.

"McGonagall is expecting all three of us on the pitch today. I thought you knew?"

I didn't know. Maybe the Headmistress had thought the news was best coming from Harry or perhaps she had simply neglected to mention it. I assumed it was the former. Regardless, I didn't want to disappoint her after all the work I had done to rebuild my relationship with her. With a sigh, I put the book, cover down, again on the table and grabbed my school scarf and a thick gray coat from a hook by the door. Underneath, I wore my muggle jeans and a jumper to combat the November chill.

It was weird walking with them in the halls. We'd done it probably a thousand times, usually in a straight line beside each other. Now I walked behind them, visibly the outsider. Their Auror robes stood out in stark contrast to my weekend garb. Ron had his sleeves rolled up, but I felt like the child of our trio despite being older than both of them.

Harry walked with his head held slightly taller then he ever had, and Ron walked beside him in all his self-important glory. I could almost recognize the old Harry. Ron, however, was an entirely different person. That should have been obvious when he'd talked mostly of his accomplishments as an Auror and his pride in being famous the entire time in my room. Seeing it visibly though was an absolute trip. Where did I belong in this strange trio? I didn't, I realized. I didn't belong at all. In that moment it became so glaringly obvious that we would never be as we once were. I loved them still, even Ron. At least like brothers maybe or even distant cousins, but not as best friends, not as lovers in Ron's case.

The thought didn't hurt me like it would have years ago, when I thought that we would all be a real family- Ron as my husband, Harry as my brother-in-law. It felt freeing, like being released from an obligation I'd never signed up for.

I kept my head down as we walked onto the pitch. Ron and Harry slowed their strides, dragging me between them, though it was Ron that flung an arm around my neck when we came to a stop next to McGonagall. I wasn't sure if he meant to do it or if it had been out of habit. It made me angry though. I didn't want to be paraded in front of a crowd. It was all such a farce.

"Smile for the crowd, 'Mione," he whispered in my ear and that brought my anger spiking.

I wanted to rip his arm off and punch him, but McGonagall was talking to Harry and the two of them sounded so happy. Despite everything, I didn't want to create a scene so I stared off in the distance, to the stands. I found him out of instinct- Theo. His lips were pursed as he eyed Ron's arm. I bet he would punch Ron, he certainly looked like he wanted to.

"Good afternoon students, faculty, and honored guests."

"Are you alright, Draco?"

My head swiveled sharply at the name. When had he come onto the field? It seemed like an unimportant question when he was doubled over like he'd been kicked in the ribs. Astoria touched his shoulder and if I thought I was mad before, I was absolutely livid. It didn't make sense and the feeling faded when Malfoy shoo'ed her away.

"With me today on the pitch, to usher in a new season of competition, are three very important Gryffindors who I believe require no introduction."

I barely heard McGonagall's words or the uproar of noise. My focus was entirely on Malfoy and I felt…concerned. He stood straight, pressing a hand to his chest when our eyes locked, right over where I had etched the word heartless on his body. Did it hurt? Did it burn like my scar sometimes did when the memories hit? Is that what had happened? I clutched my forearm without thought, staring at him, until a tap on my shoulder brought my focus to Harry. He gave me a smile as the sounds of brooms flying into the air filled the space. McGonagall held her wand in front of the three of us to commence the start of the game. My mouth moved, but no words came out. Not that it mattered. Harry and Ron didn't need my input anymore, they didn't need me and I didn't need them. My eyes flicked between Theo in the stands and Malfoy in the air as Harry and Ron shouted.

"Let the match begin!"