It took a moment for Hermione to realize the mistake she'd made, apparently she was in hearing distance of the other three Gryffindors. All three of their heads turned towards her; she knew they couldn't see her, she was immersed in the shadow of the upper stands, but she had no doubt that they would be approaching rather quickly.

As Harry took a few steps toward her she seriously considered trying to outrun them, she wasn't really in the mood for a confrontation right now. But she was to get one anyway:

Ron spoke first, "You know, what is it with you, Hermione? You say you don't care about us and then you have the nerve to eavesdrop on our conversation?"

She stood up, making her way out onto the field as she spoke, "Honestly, Ronald, don't flatter yourself. After all that has happened and you still think my world revolves around you."

Ginny looked back and forth between the two, "Ron, c'mon, let's just go."

"No, Ginny! Why don't you and Harry just go back to what you were doing before I found you?"

Harry spoke for the first time, practically pleading, "Now, Ron, I don't think that's fair."

"Shut up, Harry."

Hermione shook her head, how the bloody hell would this boy be able to save the world, when he couldn't even stand up for what he believed in?

Both Harry and Ginny fell silent as Ron forged ahead, taking shots at Hermione.

"You know, Hermione, I'm glad that we're not friends anymore. That's right, I'm glad that you decided to be a bitch and go off with Blaise Zabini. Because the only thing you were ever good for was copying off of, and that's only because you were stupid enough to let us do it. And now we won't have to share the glory when we defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And no one will know your name. And everyone will see you as the girl who was selfish and abandoned her friends when they needed her. So I'm really glad that you're not dragging us down anymore. I never thought we needed you, and I only agreed to be your friend because Harry felt bad about what we'd said to you back in first year, not because you're interesting or personable. And some days, Hermione, I really wish we'd left you in that bathroom with the troll that Quirrell let in, because that would've solved so many problems. So you know what, Hermione, i thank you /i for saving us the trouble and just walking away from us. So you can go back to your boring life of Muggle obscurity and never care about anything but books and learning something new. And you can sit home and study and never have any fun for the rest of your miserable life."

He took his time saying it, putting feeling into and emphasis on every word. Hermione knew he meant everything he said, and when he stopped to collect himself his eyes were blazing. He down at Ginny, who was tugging on his arm: she wanted to go; then he looked to Harry, who nodded.

And before he turned on his heel to leave the pitch, he said, quietly to her, "And then you can die alone."

Hermione's anger dissolved into sadness.

So, it was final. They'd never be friends again. And while it was overwhelming, it was slightly liberating. But right now she didn't feel liberated, she felt deserted. But that was her fault. She'd shut them out. But they'd betrayed her. So it was their fault. But they'd apologized, and she hadn't accepted. So it was her fault.

For close to an hour she argued with herself, and somewhere along the way she'd started to cry. And somewhere after that she'd started to sob.

It was around this time that Blaise Zabini found her, arms around her legs, hugging her knees to her chest in the middle of the Slytherin stands.

He sat down next to her wordlessly, figuring that if he gave her enough time she'd tell him what was wrong without any prodding. It wasn't hard to figure out that there were only a few people who could've reduced her to tears at this point in her life: Draco or Potter's little group. And considering that Draco had been at dinner and then had disappeared to do something horrible to some first years Blaise knew who it had been.

"They don't care." She said after a quarter of an hour. "They don't care."

Blaise shifted in his seat, taking off his cloak, which he then proceeded to wrap around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and Blaise, needless to see was a bit taken aback. She trusted him? He spoke, "Who cares if they care, Hermione? I know you don't," he said, in an attempt to convince her of it, "you're way too strong-minded to care what those insufferable, unintelligent, misguided gits think of you."

She laughed through tears, though it was laced with melancholy, "I will never understand, Blaise Zabini, how you can say such malicious things while sounding so saccharine." She stood, returning his cloak, intent on making her way back to the common room.

"It is true you know," he said, standing with her, "the only things they ever did for you were really just things they did for themselves. Think about it."

And when she thought about it her sadness translated to blind rage.

Blaise had beaten Hermione back to the common room by a good five minutes, as she'd stopped to reprimand some first year Hufflepuffs for trying to set the house banners in the Great Hall alight. Blaise, of course, in true Zabini fashion had laughed, walked right past it and suggested a new spell on his way up the stairs.

In the common room he'd artfully arranged The Unforgivables on the table beside the sofa in hopes that it might become – well, he supposed, a conversation piece – one for Hermione and himself.

He was shocked to find that when she entered the common room she said not one word to him about the incident in the Great Hall that he'd so dutifully shunned. Instead, it seemed that the reprimanding of the first years had only fueled her fire, she was angry, more so than Blaise had ever seen her.

"I mean, how dare they! Can you believe that? Treating me like I'm some kind of imbecilic child. How dare they!" She looked at him expectantly, but Blaise was unsure how to answer.

"Are we talking about the fickle first-ies or the other two-thirds of the not-so-Golden-Trio?"

She threw a curse at his head, narrowly missing. Blaise reminded himself to write his father and thank him for enrolling him in Quidditch at a young age, his dodging skills were unrivaled. "Tell you what, Hermione; let's play a new game, one that doesn't involve maiming Blaise, yes?"

She sighed, "Do I have any choice in the matter?"

"No."

"I thought not." She rolled her eyes, "Okay, proceed."

Within seconds of her consent Blaise had flipped open The Unforgivables to what looked like a page he had pre-selected. Hermione rolled her eyes; somehow she should've expected Blaise to be a manipulative bastard. Somehow…

"Let's begin, shall we?" Hermione looked that the title of the section, Putting It Into Practice , she groaned but shockingly took a seat on chair nearest Blaise.

Draco Malfoy was tired of Pansy Parkinson; she had become a stitch in his side these past few hours in the Slytherin common room and currently he wanted nothing to do with her. And he told her so. She'd been difficult about it, naturally, and it had annoyed him.

Now he was on his way up to the Heads dormitory, hoping to grab his broom and then hunt down Blaise Zabini, perhaps they could do something malicious and evil to a few first years. He gave the password, trying to remind himself of the stories his father had told him of his youth – maybe there was something worthwhile in there, some terrible prank he could play. Only slightly distracted by his scheming he pushed open the portrait…

Somewhere amidst their lesson Blaise had conjured up a jar of spiders, much to Hermione's dismay. He actually wanted her to try using theCruciatus curse. He'd set the jar down on the table across the room and turned around to face her.

"Blaise, I've been thinking, maybe we should go back to playing games that maim you…"

He grinned, "Come now, Hermione, you can do this." He walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, "You did not put up with this rumor only to end up not studying what we utilized the rumor for." She nodded, setting a determined look on her face, but feeling incredibly small and confused inside her mind. As Blaise moved back across the room to stand next to the jar she reminded herself that this action would be frowned upon by Dumbledore and the rest of the Order, were they ever to find out. She reminded herself that McGonagall would be disappointed. And Lupin would be disappointed. And Dumbledore would be disappointed. And Fred and George. And the Weasleys. And Harry and Ron. And Harry and Ron.

That was enough, she damned them all to hell and raised her wand, intent on following through. She saw Blaise grin.

"Crucio!"

Draco Malfoy could not believe what he was seeing. It was absolutely and utterly ridiculous. Hermione Granger was standing in the middle of the common room – his common room – with her wand in hand, facing Blaise Zabini, who looked to be walking away from her. He turned back around to face her and she raised her wand.

Draco'd be damned if he allowed this to happen – he feared the worst.

Crucio.

"Stupefy!"

Draco watched as the jar on the table next to Blaise shattered – Granger had missed. But Draco hadn't – he watched, in slow motion, it seemed, as Hermione Granger, Head Girl and Hogwarts' brightest witch, crumpled to the floor.

Author's Note:My sincerest apologies for the unbelievable delay. Though I hope this makes up for it somewhat. Now that all my testing is over for a brief period I'll try to work on another chapter for all of you. Thanks for the reviews, I definitely appreciate it.

Once again, between testing and my new RPG (Paris In Flames -link and summary in my profile; I hoep some of you will join) I've been oh-so-busy. Thanks for putting up with my bad updating. I love you all.

Thanks Again,
Nicole