What do you think about Hermione's feelings about Ron? Read and Review

Chapter 3:

Malfoy descended the stairs as quietly as he could. He had already angered Granger enough that night; he was not going to start another battle. He winced as the last step creaked loudly. He stepped into the kitchen and was surprised by the sight. Hermione was asleep, her head leaning against her arms folded on the table, mess of hair spreading across the table. Draco smirked; this was such typical Granger, falling asleep at her desk at three in the morning. But he couldn't help but feel bad for her. Her face was strained and her eyebrows creased as though she was deep in thought. He could tell that her sleep was not a calm and pleasant one. He approached the table, planning on carrying her small body up to her room, but something else caught his attention. A small piece of parchment rested underneath Hermione's sleeping hand. Intrigued, he started to read the small parchment and realized it was a letter. Gingerly moving her hand, he sat down and started to read.

"Dear Ronald,

I understand that I am the last person that you want to hear from right now, but I have to write this out, to get this off my chest. I want you to know how upset and sad I have been these past few days; it's very strange not being on good terms with you. I haven't been this upset since that time you left the forest last year.

But I also want you to know that I am not sorry for the way I reacted. You have no right to asking me to marry you in front of the media, something you know I detest very much. You know me better than this Ron; you know that I like it when it's just you and me. I am a homebody, not a media star. I was very hurt by your impromptu and public proposal, and also for your reaction. Ron, you really should not have started screaming at me in front of them.

I am also quite upset with you right now. You have no right, even when I am in the wrong or when I hurt you to say to me what you did…and especially in front of the cameras. I understand that you were upset, but I thought you respected me and loved me, and didn't think of me as a bitch like the rest of the world seems to.

Finally Ronald, I think we should take some time, both of us. Perhaps this week will be wonderful for us to be separate, to think about our relationship. If you want more time, I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind letting me stay here and continue my assignment. But for now, my assignment ends Sunday at seven, and I would love if you could come pick me up. We can talk then.

With love,

Hermione"

Draco stared down at Granger. Her letter was so much like her personality: intellectual, reasonable, and outspoken. Malfoy smirked and raised himself from his chair. He could see Weasley reading it now: his ears turning red at he gripped the ends of the paper roughly. He would finish reading it and probably crumple it up and stomp around his cardboard box of a house, crying to his mum. Slowly approaching Granger, he tapped her shoulder. Her face immediately scrunched up as she let out a groan. His mind went to his mother, asleep in her reading chair. She would stretch and yawn, and then ask Draco to walk her to her quarters. He couldn't attack Granger now, she was so innocent with her guard down. He almost felt sympathetic for her squinted her eyes again, trying to block out the light. Old Draco would have never paid attention to her, he would have left her, maybe even drawn on her or jinxed her. He swallowed dryly and did the only thing that came to his mind, the same thing he would have done for his mother, "Granger, you fell asleep at the table, would you like me to take you to your room?" he asked

oooooooooo

"Malfoy?" Hermione mumbled as she lifted her head and opened her eyes. Her neck was terribly stiff and the light was burning her eyes. She looked up at the tall blonde standing next to her.

"Do you want me to take you back to your room? You fell asleep at the table," he repeated softly.

Hermione nodded slowly. She had never seen this Malfoy. He was always hard, emotionless, and had never spoken to her in that soft of a tone. She observed his face quizzically as his strong arms picked her up and brought her towards his chest, he had not been sleeping well. His skin was pale, and the circles under his eyes had gotten very dark. She continued to observe his face, which did not sport a sneer or a smirk, but was rather calm. She couldn't believe he was touching – no carrying – her and not even grimacing! She was Muggle-born – a Mudblood in his eyes – and he was touching her. Wasn't he worried that he would get some kind of infection? He looked forward, up the stairs, not looking down at her. The suspense was killing her; she had to know. She finally spoke, "Malfoy what are you doing awake?"

His gaze shifted down to her, "I was hungry; you never made dinner." He paused, "Granger did you eat?" His silver eyes suddenly flashed with a look of concern, but a millisecond later, returned to their natural, dark state.

"What's it to you?" She answered harshly as she lowered her gaze to look at his chest. "I'm tired now." Malfoy set her down as she opened the door to her room. She looked back up at him and he looked down at her. She had always known that Malfoy's eyes were grey, almost silver, but had never realized how bright they really were. "Goodnight Malfoy," she said break her stare and slinking into her room, letting her door close with a click. After she felt her door close behind her, she removed her jeans, and climbed into bed. She stared at the ceiling thinking about what had just happened. The Malfoy she thought she knew in school would have never done that for her. Hell, Ron wouldn't have done that for her! He would have left her at the table, ate his midnight snack, and would have climbed back into bed, her bed. She would have expected Malfoy to act the same, if not worse, perhaps drawing obscene things on her arms, or writing Mudblood across her forehead. But he hadn't. He had been a gentleman and carried her up stairs. Maybe he had changed, she thought. Maybe he wasn't truly a git after all.

oooooooooo

"Goodnight Granger" Draco answered as she moved into her room. He turned and started to walk back into his room. His hunger was gone, replaced with a very confused feeling like butterflies fluttering around in his abdomen. What just happened? What had he just done? He fell back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. Granger had changed. Granted, she was still the Gryffindor Princess, school bookworm, and pompous war hero, but something was different about her.

He couldn't quite understand how she had changed, but she was not the same Mudblood Granger. For one, she no longer tolerated his bigoted language; she had stood up to him earlier today. Her hair was tamer. Draco assumed that because of her new fame, she had started to take care of her looks. Her figure was a small one, one that may seemed to have gotten smaller since he had last seen her three months ago. She had also started to wear more appealing and fashionable clothes. Instead of the worn flair jeans she had worn on weekends during school, she sported skinny jeans and fitted jumpers. He recalled her pictures from the Daily Prophet, of her taking her hands out of Weasley's. She had worn a dress and heels, something he hadn't seen her in since fourth year. Hermione Granger really wasn't that bad, he thought to himself. She could even be attractive.

He smirked – Damn; cabin fever was really starting to get to him.

oooooooooo

Hermione awoke late – 11. She noticed that Malfoy had not yet awoken. Good, she thought, this left some time to herself to think about the complicated events of last night. First, she had had an argument with the captive and moody Draco Malfoy, then she had written a letter to Ron, and finally Malfoy had carried up to her room after she had fallen asleep at the table. Frustrated, she blew a strand of stray hair out of her face and sat down at the table, staring at Ron's letter.

After rereading it a few more times, she finally stood and went to the window. She opened it and allowed Harry's new owl Poppy to enter. She hooted gleefully as Hermione stroked her beak and gave her a small treat. Poppy was the same colour as Hedwig had been – snow white – but Poppy was a lot larger and more powerful than Hedwig. She had to be; Poppy was constantly flying from Grimmauld Place to the Burrow to the Ministry and to Harry and Ginny's flat in London. It was just Hermione's luck that Poppy was at Grimmauld at that time. Hermione tied the small piece of parchment to Poppy's slender ankle, and the large barn owl flew out of the window and into the horizon. She knew the letter would find Ron eventually.

Hermione stared out the window for a long time, just thinking. Her thoughts wandered once more to life after the war. But she did not contemplate her life, or those of her friends and loved ones. She thought about the lives of those on the other side – the defeated side. Their loss signified their imminent convictions and imprisonment. They would no longer have families, loved ones, lives. All they had to look forward to was the hell of Azkaban. Hermione thought of Malfoy. His trial was approaching, and he was surely going to be convicted of war crimes and spend the rest of his sullen life in prison. He would never see the light of day ever again, never be able to have a family, never able to love ever again. She wondered if had even wanted those things? She pitied Malfoy; her life was just now starting, while his was coming to an abrupt end. She wondered if he was scared, if he would take it all back, if he would've changed the way he had been raised. The young witch then thought of the eldest Malfoy, Lucius.

Lucius had been one of the first Death Eaters tried and convicted, as he was one of the only members of the Inner Circle to have survived the war. Bellatrix Lestrange had been killed by Molly Weasley, and Rodolphus and Rabastan soon after by Aurors. Nott, Crabbe and Goyle Sr., Greyback: all dead or in hiding. She had heard that Lucius Malfoy had gone crazy after the death of his Dark Lord, so much so that he barely acknowledged his son when he was sent off to Azkaban for the rest of his miserable life.

She then thought about Malfoy's mother Narcissa. What an elegant woman. Aside from her bigoted and racist points of view, Hermione thought, she really was a regal and noteworthy lady. She represented the epitome of class, and saw much of her in the youngest Malfoy. Her mind flashed Draco's face carrying Narcissa's lifeless body into the Great Hall. She had been huddled closely with her friends and loved ones, mourning the deaths of many – Fred Weasley, Tonks and Lupin, Colin Creevey, and others that she had come to know and love. But as the youngest Malfoy walked past her that day, she had only seen anguish and grief. Malfoy had just stared at her body; jaw slack and head lowered, with his father's hand on his broad shoulder. She had never seen anything like it in all of the time she had known Malfoy. Just like the walls at Hogwarts, the walls of his life had crumbled that one evening. She wondered if that was what had changed him, and had shown her that small ounce of compassion and concern in the staircase last night.

Hermione heard her stomach grumble. She realized that she had not really eaten anything all weekend. She went into the pantry and started to collect what she would need for a brunch for two. Cracking four eggs into a pan, she got to it.

oooooooooo

Ronald watched as Harry's majestic, white owl tapped hooted sweetly from the windowsill at the Burrow. He figured it was a letter from Ginny and Harry explaining their weekend holiday. For his sake, he hoped they spared the details. He still had not gotten over the fact that Harry – his very best mate – was dating and in love with his little sister. He untied the letter from the owl's thin and pink leg. The barn owl playfully nipped at Ron's wrist, wanting a treat for her hard efforts. Ron obliged her, giving her a small piece of bread from the table. He opened the small parchment as the large owl flew out of the open window. A cold realization set into his gut; this letter was from Hermione.

Ron read the letter silently. He had taken a few deep breaths before he had started reading. He promised himself that he would remain calm and collected, not flipping out like he had previously. Perhaps this was her asking him to come back, saying that she still loved him; that she was so sorry for what she had done.

His anger bubbled as he started the second paragraph, "But I also want you to know that I am not sorry for the way I reacted". Of course she wasn't. That was typical, hard-headed Hermione. She would never back down from something she had done. The rest of her letter was just that…hard-headed. Hermione did not regret her actions, and instead harped on him for embarrassing her in front of the media. Embarrassing her, Ron thought to himself, more like humiliating him!

He reread the last few lines slowly – she wanted to take a one-week break. She wanted to think about things. That was never a good sign. Ron began to overanalyse her words, wondering exactly what she meant by 'taking a break'.

He reassured himself that one week would pass, and that she would realize how much she loved and missed him. He would walk through the Grimmauld Place chimney to find her pacing around the kitchen practically pulling out her hair, so anxious for him to arrive. He would gallantly appear, and she would jump on him, kissing him and apologizing for her bad behaviour. They would make love right on the kitchen floor and after they were done and lying naked quietly on the cold stone, Ron would ask her to marry him again. She would say yes and they would spend the rest of the night christening the rest of Grimmauld Place. He smirked; they would have more sex than they had ever had! He realized sadly that they were not intimate that often – Hermione was never in the mood.

He set the letter down on the counter, nodding to himself, acknowledging that his thoughts would certainly soon be a reality. He would meet Hermione on Sunday night – now less than a week away, and everything would be fine. With Hermione, everything always turned out to be fine.

oooooooooo

Harry stared at Ginny's sunlit face. The small freckles on her nose seemed to gleam. He smiled. He could do this more often, he thought to himself. They were sitting in a park in Edinburgh watching the sunset after leisurely dinner. It was relaxing here. Sure, Edinburgh did have a wizarding population; one that would definitely recognize him, but he hadn't encountered them. It strangely felt like his summers with the Dursleys. No one knew who he was. He didn't have to hide all the time. He watched as Ginny's face contorted with emotion. She was frustrated, mad even.

"I really can't believe he would have the nerve to call her a bitch in front of them. What was he thinking? Sometimes I forget he's my own brother!" she looked to him for an agreement. For him to say that he hadn't expected it, that Ron was a git, that everything would be fine again soon. But it wouldn't be. Ron had royally messed up this time. Both of his best friends had. He really didn't see them getting back together soon. He had it seen it coming. It was nice at first; they seemed to happy and in love. But as the time passed he could tell that their relationship was wearing - especially on Hermione's side. He could tell that her fuse had shortened with Ron, and from what his best mate told, she wasn't putting out for him either. They were both getting frustrated. Ron thought that getting closer would help; Hermione thought the opposite.

"Gin, you know how much I love them both. I can't have a serious conversation about this with you. I can't say bad things about my best mates!" her face started to grow red, but she took a deep breath and turned to face the sunset in front of them. She may have been upset, Harry knew that she understood. She always did.

Draco opened his eyes and breathed in. He smelled something wonderful! It smelled like eggs, and warm bread, and sizzling sausages. Throwing on a jumper over his worn boxer shorts, he sprinted down to the kitchen to find Granger hard at work at the stove. He had been right: eggs, bread, and sausages. It was like he was at the Manor again.

"Well don't just stand there, Malfoy," she said not taking her eyes of the frying pan. She was wearing small pyjama shorts and a large jumper – he assumed it was Weasley's – and her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun.

"Well aren't you a vision this morning," he said as he got two plates from the cupboard and sat at the table.

"Shut it Malfoy, or else you can cook your own food" she retorted as she brought the pan over to the table. She sat opposite him and served herself. She took a bite and looked at Malfoy as he shovelled food into his mouth. She chuckled, "You're practically worse than Ron."

Draco stopped eating and looked up at her, puzzled, "What are you on about Granger? Trying to replace your long lost love with me? Plus, I would like to remind you that it was you who forgot to feed me last night. I'm quite hungry!" He smirked at her and went back to eating his food, at a much slower pace, Hermione noticed.

"Well excuse me for trying to make some civil conversation and not immediately starting an argument!" she said starting to raise her voice at him. "I thought that after what happened last night you wouldn't jump at my throat every three seconds. Who was I kidding, it's only you – Draco Ferret-Face Malfoy!"

Draco stood up and picking up his plate. Being called a ferret was something he could not tolerate. He winced as he thought about the humiliation he had felt when he was flung around by Professor Moody – actually Barty Crouch Jr. at the time – in front of all his friends and peers. He was still trying to live it down! "Granger, just leave my food in the pan from now on, I can eat by myself. I don't want to be your friend Granger! Longbottom managed to understand that concept, but I guess you don't. And as for last night, I must have been sleepwalking or something. I frankly don't know what got into me." With that he turned on his heel and walked up the stairs to his room.

Hermione did not speak to him for the rest of the week. She only saw his form twice. Once when he entered the kitchen for food: he just served himself and walked back to where he had come from. The second time, they crossed themselves in the dark hallways of Grimmauld place, Hermione was drowsy and in her pyjamas, and Malfoy was wet and in his towel. All Hermione remembered was Malfoy's smirk as she blushed at his half naked body.

Thankfully, Sunday came soon enough, and Hermione was anxiously waiting in the kitchen to see if Ron would come to get her and to talk. She had just finished cooking some dinner for herself and Malfoy, and quietly sat at the table, nose buried in a book. She was too nervous to read though, making quick glances at the fireplace every few sentences. She looked up as the fireplace started to rumble, and a smile crept onto her face as she saw a glint of fire red hair.

A/N: teehee a little cliffy here - let me know what you think will happen! Review review review!