A/N I honestly don't mean to take this long between updates.

Disclaimer: Of course I do not own anything. Plus I don't think we're going to get that VM movie. Jerks.

"This is nice, isn't it?" Harry asked Hermione. "A nice quiet evening? No Slytherins. No stupid mysteries. No homework."

"We have plenty of homework, Harry. What do you think I'm working on now?"

"Nothing due until Tuesday, which means I'm not working on it until tomorrow."

"It's your grade," said Hermione, reading over her Transfiguration notes. She paused to scribble something in the margins.

"Hermione," Harry said, drawing out her name in a whine.

"What?" she asked in the same tone.

"Entertain me."

"You've heard me sing before, Harry."

"Oh goodness, no, and don't dance, either," Harry said in mock horror. "I said entertain me, not traumatize me."

Sighing, Hermione put her quill down and looked at her best friend. "Alright, Harry. What would you like to do?"

"I'd like a nice quiet evening."

"That's what we're doing now!"

"Homework does not equal nice, and the common room does not equal quiet. You owe me."

"Oh, for goodness sakes," Hermione said, throwing up her hands. She looked at the mischievous grin on Harry's face and couldn't help but return it. "Okay, Harry. What constitutes nice and quiet for you?"

"Let's go visit Luna," Harry suggested.

"Luna is insane, which means she is not nice or quiet."

"Luna never raises her voice," Harry pointed out. "And she's super nice. She's one of the few people who never said a bad word about us. She's helped us out a few times, too."

"Yeah, yeah, she's a peach," Hermione groused. In truth, she was rather fond of the odd Ravenclaw. "We can go see her if you want."

"Great!" said Harry, jumping to his feet. "Just give me a minute. I've got to get ready."

Hermione looked at her friend shrewdly. "You need to get fixed up to visit Luna?"

Harry blushed. "No, I just look sort of rough, and I thought -"

"I'm insulted, Harry," Hermione proclaimed. "How come you don't have to get fixed up to hang out with me?"

Harry took in his friend's messy hair, baggy Gryffindor t-shirt and ripped jeans. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable by looking ten times better than you, do I?"

"As if it's possible," Hermione answered. "I can't dim this light, no matter how I dress. I don't want the boys falling helpless before me, do I? And if you even think of answering, you will be extremely sorry."

At that moment, the common room door opened and Dean Thomas sauntered in. He gave Hermione a rakish grin and swept an imaginary hat from his head.

"Potter," he greeted them. "Mi'lady."

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What do you want?"

"I'm shocked! Shocked, saddened and dismayed by your lack of faith in me, Granger. Can't a gentleman say hello to a lady?"

"Now I want to know you what you want, too," Harry said. "That's laying it on thick, even for you."

"I don't want anything," said Dean, continuing to smile at them both. "I'm just saying hello to my dear friends. Oh, look, here's Neville. Hi, Neville. See? Just being friendly!"

Dean tapped his hand to his forehead again and headed up the stairs to his room. Harry and Hermione were left staring awkwardly at Neville.

"Hi," Neville said lamely.

"Hi," they echoed back.

It was not exactly that they were on bad terms with Neville - more like no terms at all. Neville had never turned against Harry and Hermione, but neither had he gone out of his way to defend them. Before Harry and Hermione were speaking again, Harry would occasionally spend an afternoon with Neville, and every once in awhile Hermione had still assisted him in Potions. Like everyone else, Neville had been extremely saddened by Ginny's death, as they had been rather close, and Neville took it hard. He had found it easier to retreat from Hermione, and the constant memories of Ginny than to continue being her friend. He had told off a few people here and there for picking on her, but they had never formally patched up their once-strong friendship.

Hermione decided right then that she was sick of keeping people out. No, Neville had not been there for her when she needed him the most, but neither had Harry, and they were now best friends again. It wasn't like she had tried overly hard to stay friends with Neville either. "Neville, we're going down to visit Luna. Would you like to join us?"

Neville's smile nearly split his face. "I would love to. Thanks! Luna's usually down by the Great Lake Friday evenings."

"It's rather cold, isn't?" Hermione complained.

"Bring some of your fire, Hermione," Harry said. "Are you a witch or aren't you?"

"I've asked that once or twice," said a new voice behind them. Ron had just entered the room. "Where are you lot going?"

"We're going to find Luna and have a picnic by the Lake," Harry answered. "Wanna come?"

"Sure," Ron answered gamely. He was still working on his relationship with Harry.

Hermione inwardly groaned. Spending time with Ron was still more awkward than not. She certainly couldn't relax around him, and if she was already playing nice with Neville, why did she have to deal with Ron, too? Was Draco next? This was not the nice quiet evening Harry had suggested. Instead, she was going to have to deal with Luna's inanity, Neville's bumbling attempts at reconciliation, Ron's awkward silences and Harry's desperate attempts to make it all work. She felt mulish, nasty all of the sudden. She didn't want to go.

Still, she did not want to actively alienate Ron, not when he and Harry's friendship had gotten so much stronger lately. If she bailed out as soon as he joined them, the reason would be rather obvious. Perhaps she could feign a headache on the way to the lake.

Instead, her salvation came from Dean, who chose that moment to re-enter the common room.

"Granger, I have a question about our Transfiguration homework. Do you think you could spare a moment?"

"Sure," she said immediately, fixing Dean with a grateful look. She could always make up with Neville later. "I'll meet you down there, okay?"

Harry sighed - he knew she would not be coming - but nodded. "Alright, Hermione. See you down there."

Neville looked a little disappointed as he followed Harry out of the common room; Ron's expression had an odd mixture of resignation and relief. Hermione suspected that Ron was fully aware of her feelings, and shared them.

"What part do you need help with, Dean?" Hermione asked, dropping the antagonistic tone she usually used with him.

"Nothing," he said. "I just figured you didn't want to hang with Weasley all night." He gave her a crooked smile and raised his eyebrows. "Was I right? You must be pretty keen to avoid him if I was a better option."

She shrugged, a little embarrassed that she was so transparent. "It's not a huge deal; I just didn't really feel like going down there anymore."

"Don't feel like going down?" Dean gave her a disgusting smile. "Could we work out something else?"

"And, this conversation is over," Hermione said angrily, rising from her seat and walking to the portrait. "Apparently Luna Lovegood and my ex-boyfriend really are preferable to you."

"Just trying to make small talk, Granger."

She gave him the finger over his shoulder, ignored his "anyplace, anytime" comeback and left the common room. She did not really want to find Harry and Ron, so she decided to wander around the castle for awhile, hopefully avoiding Snape and Draco while she was at it. She had a vague notion to visit Lupin or Hagrid, but nothing definite; it would be nice to be on her own for awhile.

The school seemed strangely silent. She supposed that most of the students were in their common rooms, or a few were outside, but it seemed almost like she was the only person in the entire school. She found the idea not unwelcome.

If only.

"What do I have to do to get you out of my face? Would I have to pay you, or would a simple hex suffice?"

She sighed and turned around to face Draco. "I had my back turned to you. You could have simply left, and I'd have been none the wiser. Instead, you started talking to me. I know you love the attention, but I'm not in the mood, so why don't you get out of my face?"

She was right, of course. Lately, the effort to ignore her had been too great. He didn't like to think about that too much. "Gladly. But first tell me why you're wandering sadly around the castle as if your pet skrewt just died." He assumed the reason was the same as his: Ron had left to hang out with Harry. That meant Draco was by himself, and Hermione had been forced to run away from the two of them. He was also worried about his mother, and the thought of spending the evening with Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle when his mind was a jumble was too much to handle.

"If you don't mind, I'd simply like to be alone. Slither back under your rock."

She turned to walk away, but he moved up smoothly beside her, quickening his pace when she did.

"I guess I'm a little bored, Granger. Say something nasty so I can retaliate."

"God, are you nine?" she huffed, annoyed that she couldn't shake him. She'd spent so much time dogging him for answers over the last few months, and now that she wanted to be left alone, here he was. Typical Slytherin. No, scratch that. Typical Draco.

"You can do better than that." He gave her a grin, a sincere, easy-going smile she hadn't seen from him since... Well, a long time. It startled her, and she stopped abruptly. "What? Did you think of something? Is it about my hair, because I have loads of those stored up for you."

"No, your hair is fine," she said distractedly. "I mean..."

"Well, look at us! We're being downright friendly. Who would have thought?"

"No one," she said, resigning herself to his presence. "I'm taking a walk around the castle, Draco. Nothing exciting."

"No hijinx this evening?" He noted her use of his first name but chose not to comment. "I'm disappointed. Usually you're up to all sorts of annoyances."

"I just wanted to quietly do my homework this evening, but that's never good enough for anyone," she complained. "And now here I am with you."

"I'm way better than homework, Granger," Draco stated.

"Not in my book," Hermione replied. "You're better than crucio, maybe."

Draco winced inwardly at the thought of the curse but gave Hermione another grin. "Don't you remember that one time, Granger? When the two of us had that huge arithmancy project due but we spent the whole night looking up dirty spells in the restricted section with Ron and Ginny instead? You ignored your homework then."

"We still had a week left on that project."

"But for you a week is like due the next day," Draco pointed out. "What was that one spell we found? The one that would make our di-"

"That's quite enough," Hermione said, annoyed that she had let him go on for so long. "Spare me the mental picture of you and Parkinson."

Draco snorted. "Like you and Potter aren't practicing those advanced spells yourself. Come on, Granger, you can tell old Draco the truth. You and Potter have finally stopped dancing around each other and have gone for it, right?" He watched her closely for a reaction, sure he would be able to tell if it were indeed true. He didn't know how he would feel about it, but told himself he was only worried for Ron's sake.

Hermione stopped and looked straight into Draco's eyes. "You know, I've put up with a lot of your nasty comments over the last year, mainly because I don't give a shit about you, or what you say. But if you honestly believe Harry and I are sleeping together, you're even stupider than I thought. I guess that peroxide has completely soaked into your brain by now. Go fuck off, Malfoy. I'm finished making nice for the evening."

"Telling me to fuck off is making nice?" Draco sneered, angry that he was relieved by her answer. "Careful, Granger, it's just the two of us here."

"I'm not afraid of you," Hermione said, squaring her shoulders and gripping her wand. "Your pure blood doesn't make you a better wizard."

"No, but I am bigger and stronger," Draco said, stepping towards her. She held her ground, which he admired, but he was gratified to see how much he towered over her, and to see that she was shaking, just a little bit. "We've had this conversation before, remember?" He reached down and brushed her hair out of her face, causing her to flinch. "Your hair's getting long again." He tugged on a curl, gave her a nasty smile and turned, whistling softly as he walked away from her. He thought he could hear a slight panic to her breathing, but instead of feeling satisfied again, he was a little ashamed. Apparently he had unnerved her so much she couldn't even make a comeback, let alone curse him.

What had she thought he was implying? He threatened her all the time, and vice versa, but he realized he had maybe taken it a bit too far. He thought of his father and had to push down a sudden bout of nausea; his stomach swooped again as he pictured her wide eyes following his hand to her hair. A quick little war played within him; finally he turned around. "Hey, Granger - " She was gone.

Hermione had run from the corridor as soon as she was sure Draco was really leaving. She hated to act weak in front of him, hated to let him get the better of her, but her heart had almost stopped when he touched her. He was bigger than her, and stronger. Sure she had a wand, but he had been close enough to merely pluck it from her fingers and if that had happened... She shook her head. In her heart, she did not truly believe Draco had raped her; nor did she think he would hurt her now, either. But who really knew what went on his blond head anymore? Once she would have said with certainty that he was a good person, but now she just didn't know.

"I don't know, Hermione. I can deal with Ginny dating him, I think - he's pretty good to her - but do we have to spend so much time with him, too?"

"He's funny, Ron, I know you like him. He's not like he used to be. Come on, we have this massive project due for arithmancy, and Professor Vector placed us together. Come study with us tonight. It'll be fun!"

Hermione knew that that night in the restricted section their fourth year had been the final cement in Ron's and Draco's budding friendship. The next day the pair of them had been thick as thieves, and instead of being jealous, Harry had welcomed Draco with open arms. After that, the five of them spent almost all of their time together. Until, of course...

Hermione shook her head. She should be glad she had Harry again; what did she need with the Pureblood Princes? After walking a short while longer, she found herself in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. Rather than go back to the Tower and deal with Dean again, she knocked on the door.

"Come in."

"Hi, Professor," she said, pushing the door open. "Can I bug you for awhile?"

"Of course, Hermione," Lupin said warmly. "I'll make us some tea. Where's Harry?"

"He's down at the lake with Ron, Neville and Luna," she answered while he got their drinks ready. "I just didn't really feel like going, and then I saw Dra-Malfoy, and he -"

"Say no more," Lupin said, setting a mug down in front of her. "You're always welcome here, even if it is just to get away from everyone else. You need a hiding place sometimes."

"Thanks," she smiled gratefully. "The library was becoming a bit too obvious. I can't have people knowing where to find me at all times. That just makes it easier for them to ask me for something. Or insult me."

"I have noticed you've been quite busy the last few months. I know you and Harry play amateur detective. Why?"

She shrugged. "Something to do. I'm good at it, I guess. It keeps people out of my hair if they think I can get them into trouble for something, and I can cash in favors for the people I've helped. It kind of started by accident, but now I sort of like it." She was surprised to find herself being so open about her hobby with Lupin, but he always seemed to invite her confidence. She was sure the other professors would not approve.

"Just be careful." he warned. "You don't want to make enemies of the wrong people."

"You mean more enemies?" Hermione scoffed. "People like Dawlish and Snape and Lucius Malfoy?"

Lupin smiled sadly. "I'm sorry you've had such a rough time of it, Hermione. You and Harry."

She shrugged, sipping her tea and avoiding his eyes. "I'm used to it."

"That doesn't make it alright. And what is it with you and Snape, anyway? I know you've never been crazy about one another, but -"

"I don't want to talk about him," Hermione said flatly. "It's not worth worrying about."

He nodded his acceptance. Some things just weren't anyone else's business.

She sat in silence for a few moments before saying timidly: "Can I ask you something, and you give me an honest answer?"

"I suppose it depends on your question."

"Do you really think Mundungus killed Ginny? Really and truly?"

"I don't know," Lupin admitted. "I can't believe he would confess if it weren't true."

"Yes, but –"

"I know, it's hard to believe. I can't say with certainty one way or the other. But I don't want you thinking about it anymore. You have to drop it, Hermione, you have to move on."

"I can't do that," Hermione said. "The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that it couldn't be Mundungus. I mean, there's no way he could have overpowered all of us, and I can't imagine him hurting Ginny. It doesn't make any sense! I want to go see him, talk to him."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Hermione," Lupin said, shaking his head. "I don't even know if it's possible."

"I could at least write to him, couldn't I?" Hermione said stubbornly. "And why can't I see him? If he's guilty, he attacked me, too. Shouldn't that give me some kind of victims' rights?"

Lupin sighed. "I'm going to tell you something I hoped I would never have to. Tonks told me while she was here, and I didn't want to hurt you, but I think it might be best for you to know, so you get this idea of visiting Dung out of your head."

Hermione was almost afraid to ask, but she nodded hesitantly.

"Dawlish still wanted to pin the thing on you, even after the confession. He said - well, he implied that you and Mundungus were having an affair, and that you helped him gain access to the Weasley house."

"What?"

"He said maybe Mundungus wanted Ginny, and you got jealous, which was why he knocked you out as well."

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione railed. "I mean, honestly! It's disgusting. Why haven't I heard about this before? I would think this theory would be top news, it fits so well with everyone's opinion of me."

"Arthur shut it down. He forbade Dawlish from speaking a word of it to anyone, but Tonks told me. If you visit Mundungus, it's just going to feed Dawlish's insanity, and he might leak it, Arthur or no Arthur."

"Why is Dawlish so set against me? What did I ever do to him?"

"You're muggleborn, Hermione. Unfortunately that's all it takes sometimes. You know that as well as anybody."

"I still want to write him. Damnit, I have a right to know what happened! My name's been dragged through the mud and it's not fair!" She knew she sounded like a spoiled child, but she couldn't help it. This latest bit of news made her want to scream and cry and break everything in sight.

"I'm really, really sorry, Hermione," Lupin said. "You don't deserve any of this. I just wanted to warn you. If you write Mundungus - and I think it's a bad idea but I can't really stop you - be careful. Be careful with what you say, and don't expect a reply. The chances are still good that he did murder Ginny. He's a dangerous man."

"I'll bear it in mind," she replied. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy. I know that can't have been an easy thing to tell me, but I needed to know. I'll see you in class Monday." She exited the room and ran straight into Draco, who was obviously waiting for her. "Forget it," she seethed, seeing red. "Your best move would be to get as far away from me as possible right now."

"Granger, I've come to apologize," Draco said, feeling foolish. He had figured she would come here, and had waited outside the door, wishing he could hear what was being said inside. From the looks of her, whatever it was had been even worse than their earlier exchange. "I shouldn't have - I don't know - seemed so creepy."

Hermione barked mirthless laughter. "You're always creepy, Malfoy, I take it as a matter of course. I'm the biggest slut Hogwarts has ever seen, right? It comes with the territory."

"Yeah, but I didn't mean - I don't think you're really - oh hell, Granger, can't I just say sorry?"

"You can say it, but it doesn't mean anything," Hermione shot back. "Do you know what Lupin just told me? The Aurors thought I was fucking Mundungus, and that I let him into the house to kill Ginny. That I was going to let him have Ginny or something, but then I got mad and he attacked me. Can you believe that?" If she had been thinking straight, she never would have shared that with Draco, but she was so mad, she had to tell somebody, and he was right there.

Draco gaped at her. "That's ridiculous. Even I would never believe that. I mean you and Mundungus Fletcher? And I know you wouldn't hurt Ginny."

"Then why?" she screamed at him, not caring if anyone heard them. "Why have you spent the last year - you and Ron - acting as if you thought I would? Acting like me and Harry could have had anything to do with it?"

"Because every time I looked at you, I saw her, okay?" Draco shouted back. "Why do you think it's so hard for Ron? You were both there when she died, and you're still here and she's not!"

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't die, too."

"That's not what I meant," Draco said, running his hands through his hair. "I'm trying to tell you that I don't think you did it."

"Too little, too late, Malfoy. I've got to get back. I don't want to talk to you anymore."

He wouldn't let her shake him off that easily. "You're not the only one who lost someone, Granger. That was Ron's sister. My girlfriend."

"And my best friend," Hermione returned, allowing tears to form. "I know it's been hard for you, but you and Ron haven't spend that last year having everyone think you did it. You both abandoned me. Suddenly I'm this pariah, and everyone says these terrible things about me and at the Slytherin party -" She stopped abruptly.

"Why did you even go to that, Granger?" Draco asked. "It was so stupid. No one wanted you there - what were you trying to prove?"

"You still don't want me around," Hermione said wearily, trying and failing to hold back more tears. "You or Ron. I guess Harry's okay, just not me. But you know what, I've been doing just fine without either one of you. Do me a favor, Draco. Stay away from me."

"Oh, like you do?" he snarled. "Every time you have a problem or a question you come running to me. I don't need you back in my life, and neither does Ron."

"A fact you've both made abundantly clear," she said, full-on crying now. "Malfoy, it's best if we just continue on as usual. We'll avoid each other when we can; otherwise, you can be rude to me and I'll be rude to you."

"That works best," he said, but without his usual snark. Her crying made him uncomfortable, but their shared honesty was even worse. "Next time I see you in the halls, I'll just walk the other way."

With that, he turned and left her standing there, still crying and feeling more alone than she had in a long, long time. Then she mentally shook herself - after all this, you're going to let Draco get to you? - and went to talk to Dumbledore.

O O O O O

"You don't look happy to see me, and I had to pull some major strings to get here. Beg, borrow and steal, even. Well, at least cry and beg for Dumbledore. You should be impressed by my effort. I doubt you get many visitors.

"You shouldn't be here, 'Ermione," Mundungus Fletcher said. "The dementors might not let you go."

"I can hold my own," Hermione said, steel in her voice. She hadn't been exaggerating - it had taken all of her persuasive skills to convince Dumbledore that she needed this visit. Even then, the Ministry - Mr. Weasley in particular - had tried to stonewall her. In the end, Dumbledore had made them let her - victims' rights, and all that. Lupin and Harry had both tried to talk her out of it, but Hermione was determined. If Mundungus had killed Ginny, he was going to tell her why. And if he hadn't killed her - well, they would cross that bridge, too.

Mundungus leaned back in his chair, as comfortable as if they had been at the Burrow. "You know, according to that Dawlish, we're quite the item. I guess it was only a matter of time before us lovebirds were back together."

Hermione snorted in disgust. "Did you tell him that, or did his perverted mind come up with that on its own?"

"That was all him," Mundungus smirked. "You know me better than that, 'Ermione. I was always a gentleman."

"A gentleman? Who kills little girls?"

He didn't answer, but his smirk melted and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"I just don't get it," Hermione said. "It makes no sense for you to kill Ginny. You always got along okay with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. You even taught Ginny that Bat-Bogey hex she loved so much. I can't see you doing it. And forgive me, but you would have never gotten past both me and Harry."

"Don't be so sure you're untouchable, girlie," he snarled. "Three teenagers are no match for a grown wizard. It was easy enough."

"I can't believe you'd even be able to cast the killing curse," Hermione said musingly. "That's pretty powerful magic. A lot harder than your usual repertoire of thieving spells."

"If you know what's good for you, you'll drop it," Mundungus said. "I confessed. I killed her."

"Yeah, you confessed - something else I can't believe," she said. "If you were guilty, you'd have done everything in your power to get away with it."

"As opposed to being innocent and landing my ass in Azkaban?" he said angrily. "You're even stupider than I've heard, and believe me, I've heard some interesting stories over the last year."

"By why now?" Hermione asked, more to herself than him. "Why would you wait a year and then confess out of the blue? Your name had never come up. You were never a suspect. You could have gotten away with it."

"Guilty conscience."

"You don't know what that means. What is in this for you?"

"Oh yeah, Azkaban's a real treat."

"I checked," Hermione said. "It has been for you. You might think I can't find things out, but that's because you all underestimate me time and again. You're not under dementor guard. It says you are, but you aren't. And it just so happens that I did a little bit of research over the last few days, as I waited to hear if I could visit you. You inherited a lot of money right before you came here. Now why would someone - no, why would you, who I know to be a greedy son of a bitch - turn himself into prison when he's just come into money?"

"Get out," Mundungus hissed at her. "Do you want to get yourself killed like little Weasley?"

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Maybe it's not me you need to be afraid of," Mundungus said. "If what you're implying is true - and I'll not ever say it is - but just supposing you're on to something, who would have paid me to confess? Who has the authority to make my little stay here a pleasant one? Who would be able to get me out early? Who is the most powerful wizarding family in Britain? And ask yourself why someone would want me to confess, and who they would be protecting."

Hermione stared at him, shocked. There was no way...

"You better just take yourself back to Hogwarts, girlie, before you get yourself in real trouble. Don't come here again."

Hermione rose numbly from the table, her mind racing. Mr. Weasley - the Minister of Magic, Ginny's father - was probably the only person who would be able to secure Mundungus a comfortable stay in the notorious prison. It was impossible, though, wasn't it? There were only a few people Mr. Weasley would protect, and they all had red hair. Maybe one black-haired boy, or one with white blond hair and pale gray eyes. But no one but Ginny, Harry and herself had been there that day, right? And Harry was out of it, right? Right?