A/N : Everybody needs to pray that my writer's block will lift soon! Blarg. I hate writer's block. But then again, who doesn't? I'm rambling now, but I don't care. You have to listen to me! Well, you don't, really, but you're still reading this, aren't you?

Thanks Jack! Thanks Jessica! There was completely something else I was supposed to say here, but I can't remember anything just now...something snarky and rather amusing that one or both of you would have laughed at...Okay, just pretend that I said something witty. :)

And I would like to apologize in advance for the angsty nature of this chappie. I mean, I shouldn't have to apologize for it, since one of the categories this story is listed under is angst. But whatever. There is lots of lovely inner struggle, and not much action in this chapter. Next chapter will be more action-y, so to speak. Anyway, ENJOY!

Hermione was sitting in the library. Her ban had finally been lifted, and after what had seemed like two months to her, she was finally home. Inwardly, she laughed.

People would really think I'm odd if they could read my thoughts just now.

She was at her favorite table, books piled all around her, studying. Or at least trying to.

More and more often, her thoughts turned to Malfoy. Hermione had been duly suspicious when he had become involved with Padma Patil; surely the other girl was too smart to get involved with Draco Malfoy, the horrible, evil prat that he was. But soon it was all over the school that they were dating, and Hermione was forced to believe.

Parvati and Lavender were always talking about the pair now. Parvati said that Padma would gush about how Malfoy was so sweet and good to her, that he was the best boyfriend she'd ever had, how he was a perfect gentleman. Hermione couldn't believe it. She had followed them around Hogsmeade the previous weekend, trying to catch Malfoy doing something wrong, but everything seemed, well, perfect between the two.

Malfoy had held doors open for Padma, carried her parcels, paid for her butterbeer; and all the time he never said one mean word about or to anyone. Hermione was shocked.

After a while, she began to think that maybe Malfoy wasn't so horrible after all. He was, in fact, treating Padma better than even Viktor had treated her. She couldn't believe it, but the facts didn't lie. Maybe Malfoy really had changed.

Then she ran across him in the hallway that night. At first she thought she'd been right all along, because he snapped at her and was extremely rude; typical Malfoy, she'd thought at the time.

But then the unexpected happened. She saw him in a way she'd never seen him before: vulnerable. He looked…sad and helpless. She wanted to help him; actually wanted to help him, despite the fact that he'd been a slimy git for as long as she could remember.

Perhaps people can change, Hermione thought.

Suddenly the clock chimed the hour, and Hermione gasped. "Lunch already?"

She'd been so wrapped up in her studies that she'd forgotten the time. She packed her books and scrolls into her schoolbag, which she had enchanted to feel light no matter how many books were in it, slung it over her shoulder, and headed for the Great Hall.

Hermione didn't hurry like all the students who were practically running to make it past her to the Hall for lunch, but she loitered behind and took her time. By the time she reached the Hall, lunch was halfway over with, and she sighed.

At least I won't have to sit here through all of it, she thought, relieved. She sat with Ron and Harry, as usual, and they were busy making fun of – who else? – Malfoy.

"Yeah, and I heard ol' Dorko was practically crying the other day because Padma yelled at him," Ron was saying. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Can't you think of anything more interesting to talk about than Malfoy?" she asked in a bored voice, spooning some green beans onto her plate.

Harry and Ron simply laughed. Hermione speared a green bean and brought it to her mouth. It was only on her 23rd chew that she noticed them both staring at her.

"What?" she asked after she swallowed, nervously eyeing them. Oh, God, what if they've noticed?

"Hermione, are you…like on a diet or something?" Harry asked, obviously uncomfortable.

"Why would you ask something like that?" she snapped, suddenly angry.

"Well, for starters, all you've got on your plate is green beans," Ron supplied, gesturing to the plate in front of her. Hermione felt her cheeks go red.

"Actually, if you must know, my stomach isn't feeling so well today," she lied through gritted teeth. Then she pushed back the bench she sat on angrily and excused herself from their presence. Damn. If these buffoons have noticed something out of the ordinary, then I've got to be more careful.

Hermione resolved to take better care to ensure no one knew of her little secret.

It had started out as a way to mourn Viktor, but it had surpassed that now. It had become a bit more of an obsession, this thing with food. She kept telling herself it was still for Viktor, but her sharp mind knew better.

More and more these past few days she found herself thinking about what Malfoy had said about Viktor cheating on her, and more and more she found herself getting angry.

First she was angry with Malfoy for making up such a stupid lie anyway; she knew that Viktor wouldn't do that to her, right? But the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like just the sort of thing that would happen to the little bookworm Hermione Granger. The first real boyfriend she had would of course be cheating on her. She didn't deserve to have someone be faithful to her, did she?

She began to explore it logically. Wasn't she good enough? What had caused him to cheat on her in the first place?

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She was angry with Viktor. How dare he do something like that to her? If what Malfoy said was true, then Viktor had betrayed her. Why?

She broke into a run when she made it to the front hall; her feet pounded against the stone and the sound of it rang through the empty corridors. Her legs pumped harder and harder and her schoolbag jostled and slapped against her side.

The tears she had been holding back since the day she found out Viktor had been murdered were stinging hotly at the back of her eyes. She didn't have the strength to hold them back anymore, and they spilled down her cheeks, wet and angry.

She slid to a stop in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, who looked so shocked to see her there in such a condition that she didn't even ask for the password, just swung open for Hermione to enter.

Hermione ran through the common room and up to her dormitory, never happier that Lavender and Parvati weren't there to see her cry.

She flung her schoolbag across the room and screamed with fury and pain.

It skidded across the room and stopped just before the full-length mirror that stood next to Lavender's bed. Hermione glanced at it. Slowly, she advanced towards it.

She peered at her reflection. Of course Viktor couldn't really want me, she thought viciously. Just look at me, I'm a mess.

Her hair was, indeed, a mess; it had become disheveled as Hermione ran up to Gryffindor tower and was now sticking out every which way as if she'd stuck her finger in a light socket and left it there. Her eyes were red and bloodshot from crying, and she was pale, very pale.

In her mind's eye, she saw Viktor kissing a girl with beautiful blonde hair that cascaded down her back like a shining sheet of golden water. The girl did not have oversized front teeth (in her misery Hermione forgot that she didn't have them anymore, either), and her eyes when she opened them would be a clear sky blue, not plain brown like Hermione's. The girl in her vision was tall and slender, the picture of beauty and grace. Hermione was none of these things.

She ran her hands over her body, pressing the robes close to her so she could have a good look. Of course she wasn't thin like Lavender and Parvati, like Padma and Pansy Parkinson. She was tall, but she wasn't – and had never been, for that matter – slender and beautiful, like the girl she imagined.

It's no wonder he chose her over me, she thought miserably. No matter that the girl in Hermione's daydream probably didn't really exist. Truthfully Hermione had no way of knowing exactly what the real girl looked like that had been kissing Viktor, but she had already convinced herself that her vision had happened, and the girl was real to her.

She was angry. And she wanted to run.

Somewhere in her Hogwarts trunk there was a Muggle sweatsuit she had brought with her for those cold mornings studying in the common room. She dug it out and transfigured her school shoes into a pair of running shoes. It wasn't exactly an easy charm, but Hermione did it with ease. She wasn't the brightest witch in her year for nothing.

A brisk run around the grounds was just what she needed, she decided. Hermione tamped down the angry feelings in her stormy heart and willed herself to stop crying. Nothing could be accomplished by crying.

Ten minutes later she was headed out the front door of the castle. The air was crisp; it would be Halloween soon, and then the snows of winter wouldn't be too far behind. But for now it was pleasant to be outside, and perfect weather for a nice run.

And Hermione began to run. Her anger swelled up again inside her and she took it out on the ground beneath her feet.

He cheated on me, she kept thinking over and over. She ran harder. He cheated on me. Her breath was coming faster. He cheated on me.

The adrenaline from her anger fueled her muscles; she wasn't aware of anything but the feel of her legs moving rhythmically, almost involuntarily, beneath her.

Left, right, left, right. How could this happen? Left, right, left, right. Why me? Left, right, left, right. Breathe, Hermione, breathe. Left, right, left, right.

She ran until her legs gave out and she collapsed in a heap by the side of the lake. She didn't hold back the tears now; they came fast and streamed down her cheeks as she let out an animalistic howl of despair. Her breath wouldn't come, her heart felt like it was going to explode.

"I hate him," she choked. "I fucking hate him."

"Don't hate him," a voice came from somewhere up in a nearby tree.

Hermione was so shocked, and her body was so taxed from her run and all the emotions coursing through her, that she actually passed out.

She woke up in the hospital wing forty-five minutes later. Harry and Ron were sitting in chairs next to the bed she was occupying. She began to sit up, but Madam Pomfrey happened to be passing by at just that moment and pushed her back onto the pillows.

"Rest, rest, my dear," she said sternly. Harry and Ron jumped up from their chairs and were immediately hovering over Hermione. "And will you two please give her some air?"

Harry stepped back a bit, but Ron didn't budge.

"Hermione," he whispered, stroking her hair. "Are you all right? Who did this to you? I'll kill whoever it was, I swear, just tell me a name," he added fiercely, looking murderous.

"I'm okay, Ron," Hermione replied quickly, propping up on her pillows so she was sitting halfway up, at least. "No one did anything to me, I promise," she said and patted his arm reassuringly. "I should be able to go, actually, all that happened was I had a bit of a fright and fainted, it was nothing."

"Nothing and you ended up in the hospital wing?" Harry said incredulously. "How did you get here, then? Who brought you?"

"How am I supposed to know, Harry? I wasn't exactly conscious at the time!" Hermione said, annoyed. Ron shot daggers at Harry with his eyes.

"Don't go getting her all overexerted," he said reprovingly. Harry glared back.

"I wasn't doing anything you weren't doing, Ron," he spat.

"Boys!" Hermione cut in, getting rather angry herself. "If there's one way to get me worked up, it's to have a stupid fight over getting me worked up!"

Both boys looked rather sheepish for a moment. Then Harry looked thoughtful again.

"How did she get here?" he asked softly, as if Hermione wasn't sitting right before him. Before she could say anything, however, Harry was hurrying off towards Madam Pomfrey like a man on a mission.

"I wonder what his problem is," Ron muttered as he watched Harry run off. Then he turned his attention back to Hermione.

"I swear, I didn't know what to think when Dumbledore told us you were in the hospital wing," he said, and then suddenly he was wrapping his arms around Hermione and hugging her tightly.

"Ron – can't – breathe," she managed to say, and Ron loosened his grip and pulled away abruptly.

"Sorry," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "Just…worried."

"I know, it's usually Harry in hospital and we're going to see him," she laughed, and Ron joined in.

Just then, Harry came rushing back over with the kind of look on his face he usually had when he got one of his crazy ideas. Hermione raised her eyebrow at him.

"I found out who brought you to Madam Pomfrey," he said quickly in a hushed tone. Hermione and Ron spoke at the same time.

"Well?"

"Who was it?"

"You'll never believe this, but Madam Pomfrey says it was Draco Malfoy."

A second or two of shocked silence followed. Ron recovered first.

"I knew it, I bloody knew it, that little shite did…did something to her –" he said through clenched teeth. His hands were balled into fists on the blanket next to Hermione.

"And then he felt bad and brought me to the hospital wing?" she cut him off sarcastically. "No, Ron, I told you before that I just had a bit of a scare, that's all –"

"And I told you before that if that was all that happened, you wouldn't have ended up in the hospital wing!"

"All right, if you're going to shout and argue, then you may as well get out of my ward!" Madam Pomfrey was saying angrily as she advanced toward them. "Miss Granger needs to rest, and she can't do that if you continue to rile her!"

Ron shot Hermione one last pointed look and Harry looked embarrassed. Hermione smiled as best she could at them before they left, then she turned her attention to the mediwitch.

"You can let me go now; I promise to rest in my dormitory for the rest of the day," she said sweetly. Madam Pomfrey's face changed instantly.

"I will let you go, Miss Granger," she said gently. "But you really need to take better care of yourself. Have you been eating properly?"

"Of course I have!" Hermione replied a bit too loudly. Madam Pomfrey looked taken aback for a moment, then she gave the young girl a knowing smile.

"Please be careful, my dear," was all she said before turning to walk back towards her office. Hermione stared after her.

What was that about?

A/N : I suppose you want your preview now. I think this one is a bit less evil than the previous two...about which I got figuratively yelled at because I was tricking you into thinking Draco was going to kiss Hermione and such, lol. Come on, people. This isn't a fluff story, so there are no unicorns and rainbows here. I have a couple of other stories that are fluff, but this one is not. In case you haven't noticed. Anyway, I'm rambling again.

xxx

"What's going on?"

All three boys whipped their heads around at the same time. So did more than a few onlookers who had followed them from the Hall. Hermione was standing at the foot of the main stairwell and she looked confused and angry.

"We – we were just having a little chat with Malfoy," Potter stammered. Apparently the sight of an angry Hermione made him nervous. Can't say that I blame him, Draco thought.