Just because I want to: You know what, I'd just like to THANK EVERYBODY for giving me 44 reviews so far! It's such an honor! Really, it is! I want to really thank Ptrst (does that stand for anything in particular?) for betaing for me (yeah, you're my beta now...and I'm not sure how those work exactly…but what your doing right now is really helpful and good!) I would also like to thank coffee for I wouldn't be alive right now without Instant Packages of coffee and hot water. Works better than tea and has a greater variety of flavors: original, Irish cream, caramel, mocha, hazel, amoretto…. actually, I'm only drinking original and Irish…those are the only ones that are going down well (besides, the other's are disgusting :pukes:)

Cry Me Tears of Fire

Pensive Puddles

She sat curled in her favorite chair near the fire. She wasn't gazing into it as she usually did. She couldn't; her eyes were too blurred by the tears that flooded and coursed down her face. She looked like a broken fairy. "Angel" was too clichéd and over used to describe a girl, and besides, her hair labeled her far from angelic. Instead, she reminded Harry more of a forest fairy, a fair wood nymph who's long wild hair trapped sweet spring flowers in it, who's smile was charming and soft, who lounged in vines that wrapped around branches to make swings that no mortal eye could see, who danced around the lake and played with nature herself, and nature loved her like her own child. And fairy rarely found anything to cry about, and the sight of a crying fairy was painful to bear. It made the observer feel a heart wrenching pain and a desire to dry her eyes and do anything to make her smile again.

Hermione sniffled, not bothering to wipe her tears away until she saw Harry coming towards her. Rubbing her wet face with her sleeve, she cleared her throat and said, "Hello, Harry."

She grinned a greeting, feigning to be upset. Harry's eyes softened at the sight of her earthy brown eyes now resembling a puddle of muck. He expected tears of mud to roll down her cheek with each blink. And clear, crystal tears continued to fall, even as she tried feverishly to wipe them away and stop them from falling. He sat down next to her, and she looked at him with quizzical eyes. Why did he look so perplexed?

"Listen, I need to talk to you," Harry said abruptly. "I know this is a bad time to bring this up, and I'm sorry, but this has been bothering me for a long time, now. I know this has been a hard time for you, and I'm sorry." He paused naturally, causing a genuine, dramatic pause. Uneasiness and nervousness overcame him and instead of saying what he wanted to say in the first place, he said instead, "I should have stopped Ron and none of this would have happened. Please don't cry. You know, I really hate seeing you cry."

She sniffled, "Harry…thank you."

He didn't want to talk about Ron. He wanted to tell her that he really liked her, a lot. He wanted to tell her that he had been dreaming of her for a year. He wanted to tell her that every glance she gave him, every time she touched him, every word she spoke to him, it meant so much to him. It gave him this unknowing strength he didn't realize he had lost. He wanted to tell her three simple words, three simple words that were the hardest to say. I love you.

But it wasn't the right time. She was vulnerable. She missed Ron. She loved Ron. And Ron loved her. He'd be a backstabbing friend if he tried to go for his best mate's girlfriend. But a stubborn voice inside of his mind continued to poke at him. He doesn't deserve her! He treated her unfairly; you yourself saw that! You know you could really make her happy. You know you could make her dreams a reality. You have the money to do it, too. Ron's too poor to keep her happy.

It was that last comment that made Harry truly feel guilty. It wasn't Ron's fault he was poor. It wasn't Harry's fault that he was rich. And Harry knew that people could be even happier dirt poor then outrageously rich. But that nagging voice in him tried to bring up any excuse that would give him good justification for having Hermione by his side, as his own.

"Hermione," he began at the same time she said, "Harry."

"You go first," he said.

She bit her lip. "Harry, something's been bothering for quite some time. You see…"

Harry waited patiently for her to finish. She breathed in deeply and said rather quickly, "You see, I don't know if I feel the same way towards Ron as he feels towards me. I mean, it's been wonderful, I suppose. No, well, I guess so and any girl should feel fortunate to have him. But Harry, I just don't feel it anymore. I just don't think it's working out between us."

"Hermione, what are you saying?" Harry said, confused and yet some sort of happy bubble was multiplying in his gut. He was feeling incredibly light.

"Harry, you're so daft!" she growled, frustrated, her face growing red with embarrassment, "Harry, what I'm trying to say is that I love you! I don't love Ron anymore; I don't think I loved him in the beginning. I liked him fondly, yes, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. And I felt trapped when I was with him. Harry, I don't love Ron. I love you; it's always been you."

Another tear fell from her eyes. "And that's why I'm crying. It's not because of Ron-well, some of it because of Ron- it's my emotions. It's frustrating; I didn't know what to do with my feelings for you! I mean, I don't want to hurt Ron, but it's not him who I love. Oh, why had any of this happened? I only want to be with you."

"Hermione," Harry said, quickly holding her in a tight embrace, trying to calm her shaking body. He wiped her tears away and leaned down, "I love you too." And with that secret finally revealed, he leaned down and kissed her.

"Harry," she said.

"Yes?" Harry replied dreamily.

"Harry, you're spilling juice all over the table!" she said.

"What?" Harry asked, confused and he blinked. Suddenly, the warm common room was gone, the love was gone, and he found himself sitting in the crowded Great Hall eating breakfast with the rest of the Hogwarts students. Hermione reached for his hand and grabbed the pitcher of juice out of it, as Harry was absently continuing to pour the juice into his already overflowing cup. "Oh, sorry!"

He quickly tried to stop the flood with a napkin and found the battle difficult as the juice proceeded to spill over the sides of the table and onto his robes. Hermione chuckled, took out her wand and cleaned the mess right up. "Some Muggle habits die hard, huh?"

Harry returned her smile. She winked and retuned back to her buttered toast. Harry continued to look at her. "Harry? You all right mate?" Seamus asked, nudging Harry in the side.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Still a little sleepy, I guess," Harry said.

Seamus nodded and tried to get Harry to join into the other boys' conversation of Quidditch. And all the while as Harry vaguely participated, he distantly thought how Hermione never really liked talking about Quidditch; it bored her to tears. If only that dream of his was real…And Harry strayed again into his daydream, putting Quidditch aside and focusing on his Hermione. If only she was his…

Harry panted horribly as he went up the many multitudes of steps that circled endlessly upwards. He leaned against the wall, holding his aching side and trying to catch his breath. To think that in fifth year he had to go up these very steps every day. It was incomprehensible! He was glad he wasn't required to take Divination in his Seventh Year. It was a complete waste of time and energy. Harry sighed and forced his throbbing legs to continue up the spiral staircase and up the ladder that would lead him to Trelawney's room.

Even at the bottom of the ladder he could smell the potent reek of incense and heavily scented candles. He always came down from her classes with a small buzz. Bracing himself, he began to climb the ladder. He was on a mission appointed by Professor Flitwick. Apparently, the Professor had forgotten to bring down the pillows for that day's class to practice with. And of course, Professor Trelawney had them up in her room. What lucky (unfortunate) student was willing (forced) to go up to her room to get the pillow? Why Harry! You seem to be willing. Go on, lad, and be quick about it!

Harry had in no way acknowledged the teacher that he was willing to carry out the task. He had looked down at the desk, he had sat on his hands, he had pretended to be preoccupied in other work…and yet Flitwick still had called on him to do it. Today just wasn't Harry's day.

"Professor Trelawney?" Harry called, knocking politely on the door. Stepping inside, he coughed, unaccustomed to the stench of incense that clogged her room.

"Yes? Ah! Harry! I knew you were coming," she remarked, coming towards him in her layers of garments and large trinkets dangling around her neck. She peered at him behind her large thick glasses that clung desperately to keep from falling off her pinched nose. "Is everything well, dear boy? I feel some disturbing aura around you."

Harry tried not to roll his eyes and said instead, "I was sent by Professor Flitwick to get some pillows for our class."

"Ah, of course, dear boy. In fact I've prepared them for you. They are lying over there," she said, waving lazily to a corner of the room where pillows were strewn haphazardly. Harry sighed and walked over to collect the pillows. Shrinking them as quickly as he could (the powerful smell of the room was giving him a horrible headache), he quickly gathered them and put them in his pocket. He turned around to leave the cursed room but stopped startled to see the Divination Professor sitting cross-legged on the floor, palms upward on her knees.

"Professor," Harry said, unsure of what to do. She seemed to be in some sort of mediation. "Professor," he repeated a little louder.

"He is growing stronger," she said, however it wasn't her voice. It was as if three different voices each ranging from low to high had merged together to form some sort of distorted, raspy voice that continued to speak slowly then quickened in excitement, "Darkness rules him inside. Gone is his heart and soul, he had no choice but to surrender them to the dark, and the dark is controlling him now. Powerful and evil, but easily disguised amongst us. Saved he must be, but not by any expected hand. The familiar the touch, the more he recedes inside himself and into darkness. A new touch, an unnatural touch that he has never experience must find his heart and restore it back to him. Else all is lost. All is lost when all threads of humanity is cut from him. And you will be destroyed for he is greater than the Dark Lord."

She titled her head towards Harry. Her pupils were mere pinpoints in her large eyes magnified with her glasses. The air whirled so wildly that it felt as if the very tails of a tornado were trapped inside the attic room; Harry was nearly lifted off his feet. Loose papers flew around the room, hanging trinkets and other objects that were strung to the rafters of the ceiling swayed dangerously and wildly in the room. Harry tried to grab something that would keep him from flying into a wall or table. He listened in horror as Trelawney continued to speak. Her wild hair flew around her small head, and mysteriously, her glasses stayed perfectly perched on her nose. Harry swung himself out of the way of a flying book that flew past him and hit the wall on his other side. He continued to listen and stared transfixed at Trelawney as she gasped for a raged breath and started to predict quicker, her voice growing louder and the wind blowing dangerously faster.

"The new Dark Lord shall he be. He shall be a hundred times worse than the Dark Lord now. Woman will cower at his power, and love him for his beauty. Men will hate him for taking their wives and children, but bow to him in humble service. They all will watch their world crumble into darkness and blood caused by him, and yet they will surrender to him. Even you cannot stop him, Harry Potter. Another can. Another that is easily overlooked. Another can save us all from this brewing evil."

And suddenly, she coughed and the whirling air unnaturally halted. All objects suspended in the air fell to the ground, including Harry who hit the floor so hard that his glasses flew off his face.

"My boy, why are you on the floor?" Trelawney asked puzzled, walking over to him. "Good heavens, how could I have let my class get so messy?"

Harry shakily got to his feet and shoved his glasses back onto his face. "Don't you remember…?"

She titled her head and stared at him oddly. "Are you feeling well, Harry Potter? I was hoping that my predictions for the future of your death wouldn't come true. But alas, I can no longer hide from that dread. It's such a shame to see such a young boy like you perish so horribly. This is just the first sign of your death. I have seen it! Yes, I have seen it!"

Proceeding the decree of his painful death (again) she burst into a flood of tears. Harry, knowing this knew prediction was not true, quickly stumbled out of her class, breathing heavily. With his heart pounding, he ran as fast as he could down the stairs, nearly jumping over three steps at a time and sprinted back to Charms class and away from the possessed room of Trelawney.

"Hermione!" Harry nearly yelled as he ran towards her in the Great Hall. "Hermione!"

"Harry! What's wrong? You're so pale!" she exclaimed, touching his face that was wet with sweat. Grabbing a napkin, she tried to dry his face. His pale face scared her dreadfully. He sat down besides her, breathing heavily.

"She made another prediction," Harry whispered so only Hermione could hear. Hermione leaned in closer to hear him better. "What?" she whispered.

"Remember back in fifth year when I told you that Trelawney made that prediction, my prophecy?" Harry whispered quickly. Hermione nodded her head, eyes growing wide in worry. "She made another one, just now."

Harry started to explain about his trip from the beginning and when he was about to tell Hermione all that he could remember about the prediction, a sudden hush fell over the Great Hall.

Never had the Great Hall been so deadly quiet. Noticing the unnatural silence that had captivated the students and staff of Hogwarts, Hermione and Harry abruptly stopped speaking and looked around. "Why's everyone so quiet?" Harry asked Seamus whose face was fixed on someone at the doors of the Great Hall. Even his whisper sounded like a yell in the large hall.

"Hermione?" another voice spoke through the suffocating quietness. It sounded incredibly familiar.

Hermione's face paled drastically, almost matching Harry's from earlier moments. She opened her mouth but said nothing. She licked her lips and tried again. Nothing.

"Hermione, it's me," said the tall figure before her. His body was lanky and lean, and from the neck down, he looked like Ron. But it couldn't be Ron because it wasn't Ron's face…exactly. His face looked nothing like the old Ron she knew so well. It was hard to describe Ron, but his face was different, more manly and without a doubt more handsome. It wasn't Ron, and yet…it was. Think yourself what a new Ron would be like, and that's what you'll get, for his appearance was viewed differently in each pair of eyes, but in the end it was without a doubt that Ron was devilishly handsome, handsomer than Harry even!

Hermione looked at the strange, alien face and searched for any marking that labeled this new person Ron. His beautiful red hair was still the same, but everything else was different. The mouth, the jaw, the forehead shape, even the ears had changed! It was uncanny. She looked into his eyes and saw the same melting brown that they had always been, and then she knew that it was her Ron.

"Ron…?" she gasped. He nodded, giving her a smile. His smile wasn't the same. It wasn't as large or as goofy. It was rather rugged and cute, leaving a girl feeling weak at the knees. Hermione jumped out of her seat with a shriek of joy and flung herself at Ron who caught her, his new face showing surprise but that he was pleased that she was happy to see him.

The Great Hall burst into a storm of whispers and some giggling. Hermione quickly pulled Ron down to sit in-between her and Harry and they immediately asked the main question: what happened to his face?

"The Healers at St. Mungo's, they said that my face was so horribly burnt that they couldn't fix it back to the original form. So they asked if I wanted to get magic lifting done, free of charge because they had been late in retrieving me from Hogwarts-Otherwise we wouldn't have been able to afford it. Anyway, they didn't have a picture of my face before hand and they were running out of time so they just worked away and I ended up with…this," he said, pointing to his face. He looked at his two friends and nervously asked, "So…what do you think?"

"It's…different," Hermione said, unsure of what to say.

"You don't like it? Of course you don't like it. I knew that they must have done something wrong," he cursed under his breath. His pale skin flushed a light pink. Grabbing her hands, he looked at her and said quickly, "I can save my money and I can get it changed back to normal—"

Hermione placed her hand over his mouth and smiled. Yes, it was still the same Ron, even if the face was a little altered; his heart was still as pure and loving as always. "No, Ron, I do like it. I'm just glad I have my Ron back," she said.

He smiled his new cute smile and leaned down to give her a large, well-deserved kiss.

No one noticed a lone figure separate from the gossiping students of Hogwarts and storm out of the Great Hall, slamming the large door behind him as loud as he possibly could.

The halls were quiet except for Draco's feet that pounded savagely against the stone floor. He stomped down the stairs and kicked the door open. He didn't know where he was going and he didn't care. All he knew was that he had to get away from that horrid, red head idiot, away from stupid Potter, and above all, away from her. A small, young tree stood planted in the middle of his way. Livid, Draco took out his lighter and formed a large fireball. Cupping it between his two pale palms, he made it grow and with all his strength, he threw it at the strong young tree. The fire quickly engulfed it and the tree withered in pain.

A maniac smile covered Draco's face as he watched the fire grow higher and higher and the tree squirm in the fire. Yellow lines glowed under the bark, forming a web of cracks and without warning, the tree shattered into a thousand pieces of flaming twigs, forming small little fires that were quickly chocked by the mist that the forest held at its feet. How could mist put out a fire? Well, this was in the magical world, and the Forbidden Forest never was considered a normal forest in the first place. The explosion threw Draco backwards, throwing him down to the ground so hard it knocked the air out of his chest. His head flung back and collided painfully to the ground, and it felt like tiny hammers were pounding in his brain. He laid on his back in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, too angry to feel fear. Besides, he was now powerful enough to destroy whatever was in the Forest .

He had watched with appalled surprise and disgust as the Weasel walked into the Great Hall. It had been deadly quiet. And Draco could see the red head's chest puff out arrogantly, knowing how handsome he waswell, compared to the train wreck appearance he had been before. He watched him strut down the aisle like he always strutted. He watched him pause dramatically and talk dramatically to her. He was such an over actor. And no one else saw it! No one else could see anything that Draco was seeing. And she didn't, she was oblivious to the new Weasels faults.

And then to snog her in the middle of the Great Hall, when people were eating for Merlin's bloody sake! It was enough to make him vomit.

"He certainly cleans up nicely, doesn't he?" Pansy had remarked to him. That had stirred his blood. He had ignored her. It wasn't the fact that Pansy had said it (he certianly didn't care about Pansy's opinion in the first place), but it was the fact that what she said was true in the eyes of all the females, observing every little trait that was knew with Weasley.

Breathing deeply, he got to his feet; the throbbing in his head subsided, his body quietly healing the small scraps he had received from the spray of toothpick size timber (in some events, he didn't have to go through the chocking, coughing, and gagging ritual to cure himself). Yet the fury inside of him was still great. There was just something about the fact that Weasley had changed that angered Draco. Weasley was threatening any firm ground that Draco had in that part of his life. He had always thought Weasley would just grow uglier over the years, and Draco was confident in that. He hadn't really expected Granger to fall for the hideous git and his tricks; he thought she would fall for Potter. That one detail had made his firm ground tremble. And now that Weasley had gotten his face reformed, and described now as "handsome" and "hot", his ground had erupted into an earthquake.

Every person had some sort of territory, figuratively speaking. Draco knew his territory, as did everyone else. And to have Weasley, whose territory had been quite small in the first place, come and try and take part of his land, it angered Draco. It wasn't all at once, but Draco could feel him take it away from him, blade by blade, pebble by pebble, so small that it was hardly noticeable at first, until he looked at his land again and saw how small it had become and how large Weasley's had grown.

Was that the reason? Was it because Weasley was a serious threat to him? Or was it something else? Something deep inside him told him that there was something else that was the true reason to why this whole episode was boiling his blood. There was something else, something big, something that he couldn't see clearly...or refused to see.

He closed his eyes, trying to block the sight of them together, snogging on the bench. It wasn't like Granger was ever his own. It wasn't like they had gone out, had shagged or anything of the above. They're relationship consisted of name-calling, hexes, and Head duties. That was it. But Draco felt as if he had some sort of claim over her, whatever small one there was. It was hard to describe it to the average person because it made complete sense to him in his mind and absolute nonsense when he spoke it out loud.

Maybe it was because now that Weasley had changed so drastically, maybe now Draco was unsure how Hermione would react to this New Weasley. He wasn't sure how it would affect his own social status in the school. How would the Weasel use this to his advantage? How much would Draco have to bleed in order to keep control over all that he had at the moment? Weasley's head was going to inflate larger than Potter's now, how was Draco going to handle this predicament? The red haired Gryffindor was now a very big obstacle in Draco's status in Hogwarts. Competition, Draco always hated it.

He closed his eyes again and trying to calm down. Control…he needed control. And while he tried to regain control, little sounds filtered into his sharp ears. He heard her giggling as the freak nuzzled her neck. He heard her moan when the idiot kissed her. He heard her sigh dreamily when the loser wrapped his arms around her waist and said nothing important into her ears.

And in the darkness, images formed in the dim haze and glowed into bright, taunting pictures. He saw her smirk at him when she was held in the red head's arms. He saw her making fun of him with Weasley by her side. He saw her blush when the jerk whispered that he loved her. It was a lie, Draco knew it; she didn't. It was that innocence that he saw stained by the arrogant Gryffindor that really lit his blood on fire. Weasley was so stupid! Couldn't he see that girls like Granger were out of everyone's reach? That girls like Granger shouldn't be touched? Then again, Weasley was unintelligent, so it didn't really matter if he did see it or not.

He walked back to the castle, composed and cool. He wild eyes were back to their piercing gray. His angry frown retunred to its usual straight line. Every detail that made him him was in order. He was as beautiful as he had ever been.

But inside, he still felt this empty space inside of him that he couldn't fill or find a reason for. And his thoughts always went back to Granger and her boyfriend and how repulsively they acted. He didn't care if Granger chose Weasley. He didn't care how she ruined her life with him any longer. He didn't care if Weasley became more handsome because of magic lifting. He didn't care if the two graduated and got married and had a litter of frizzy red haired, brown-eyed mutants. Straightening himself, he walked back into Hogwarts, pushing the Gryffindor lovers out of his mind. He hated Granger, he loathed Potter and he abhorred Weasley. Simple, short and pure truth…

So why did he still care?

A/N: :sigh: Again, I'm sorry for taking such a long time to update. I have ZERO time to write anymore, and the only reason why you guys are getting this chapter now is because I've been sick for the past week. And yes, coughing and puking, I've been writing this story for you. And so, if you find this chapter horrible, especially the concept of the plot in this chapter, I would love to blame it on that nasty bug that's been plaguing me. :points to sick, green bug huddling on Pensive Puddles' shoulder: He made me do it! So you can throw whatever objects meant for me at him instead:Bug squeals: Hehe, I guess there is a use for you after all...

And just because I've never done this in any of my other fics and I think it's a rather sweet idea:

Babmidnight: Thanks for sticking to this story chapter by chapter! You've been so loyal to me so far…:sniff: you have no idea how wonderful it is to have someone who reads my work and really does give her true opinion about it every time. I don't have anything to give you-A hah:thrusts last packet of Instant Coffee to Babmidnight: I don't know if you like coffee, but accept this last packet as a token as my gratitude for reading my work. May it energize you and keep you awake like it's doing me! And just as a forewarning, never drink it on an empty stomach….ugggg…And just to let you know, I changed chapter four a little and I wrote that she did use her wand to use that water spell. Sorry to disappoint you that she isn't a controller. And yes, it has to be Dark Magic in order to control an element; at least that's how I'm viewing it. But knowing me, I'll probably change it later… :sigh: I never can please myself. But I'm glad that you're one of those people who like to read my rambling about something for pages and pages on end!

ZmajGoddess: The only HP fic you've read so far? Wow! And it's MINE! BIG WOW! Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy this story as a whole (hopefully I'll get it done sometime…)

Lady Serpent: I'm thinking about it…:grins evily: after all, this story is not going in any certain direction (considering I still don't know where it's going to go) but I'll just tell you that I'm still thinking about that little point…it could happen. I'm not saying it will though….but it could…;) And just so it doesn't drive you batty anymore: OOC means Out Of Character. Believe me, it took me months to figure out what it meant. It also took me nearly a year to figure out that when they put TBC at the bottom it meant To Be Continued….or R&R meant Read & Review…yeah, I'm a sad case, that I am.

Anastasia Ju-Bok: Thank you for you review! I never really plan what I'm going to write. That part in chapter 4 didn't have anything to do with the story really. My fingers just kinda took me there. I'm glad you enjoy those little small clips though, I enjoy writing them ;)

And thanks also to Winnifred Dumbledore, Liz, HoNeYnSwEeTs, Ellie (thanks for sticking by my side for so long!), Kace08, and glitter and stardust for reviewing for chapter four! Oh, and Ptrst, but I did put up up at the top...

That's all I think…

If you'd like me to email you when the next chapter comes up, please let me now. If you're a signed reviewer, I've gotten your email addresses from your homepages, but sometimes the ones up on your site don't work so I can't let you know when the story updates (and I know what it's like to loose a story and can't remember what it's called or anything. Happens to me all the time and it sucks every time…) so if you'd just leave me your address, I'll write to you whenever I update, especially those who don't sign in or don't have email addresses on their sights. Just in case you want to…J

Thanks for reading! And please be so kind as to review for this chapter and give me your thoughts, criticism, alerts on spelling errors or anything of the like (do you know that Ron's eyes are actually brown? And here I thought they were blue….:sigh: oh well. I fixed all that now…)