A/N : Sorry for the wait! First, I need to say that no one must have thought the summary needed changing, because I only got ONE suggestion. I'll give you guys a bit more time to voice your opinions, thought. :)

All right. Other than that, I have naught to say! Thanks to Jessica and Jack and Pharrah, as usual!

Hermione entered the deserted common room at half past ten, tired and with a headache, longing for the quiet comfort of her warm, soft bed. When she looked up and saw the angry faces of Harry and Ron, however, she knew it just wasn't meant to be.

"Hermione," Harry said, his voice calm and even, but his eyes giving him away, flashing dangerously in the firelight. Sighing, Hermione set her bag down and leaned on the back of a nearby chair for support. Don't I have enough to be getting on with at the moment without another argument?

"We're worried about you," Ron said, even though the anger on his face spoke louder to Hermione than his words. Although, to be fair, she could see that her friends were, indeed, worried as well. Heaven only knew why. She didn't ask, though; she had a feeling she'd be finding out soon enough anyway. She was right.

"We thought you'd gotten this crazy thing with Malfoy out of your system," Harry said, apparently trying with all his might not to yell at her. Ron nodded vigorously in agreement.

"He's not – that is, he can't really be your friend, Hermione," he said, standing up and taking a few steps towards her. "There's something fishy about this whole thing, him suddenly wanting to be friends and trying to snog you and – "

That did it.

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you, Ronald Weasley," she said darkly. She wasn't yelling, but suddenly the room was filled with an almost-tangible silence and Ron took a step backwards.

"What I don't understand," Hermione went on, still in that dangerous, quiet voice, "is why it's so hard for everyone to believe that someone would be interested in me, as a friend or otherwise. Is it really that far-fetched?"

Harry's fists unclenched. Ron's face fell.

"It isn't you that's the problem," Harry said from his chair. Hermione glanced at him. He wasn't looking very angry anymore, but his eyebrows were furrowed together and he honestly looked worried. "It's him we don't trust."

Hermione sighed.

"I know," was all she said. Ron looked uncomfortable. Harry waited for her to say something else, and when she didn't go on, he stood to his feet and began to talk.

"We know you, Hermione. We can even understand you wanting to go all noble on us and give him another chance. But the things we've been hearing…" he trailed off. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"And what – exactly – have you bee hearing, Harry?"

"You're just getting a bit too cozy with him, that's all," snapped Ron from the chair where he'd just sat down, arms crossed. He looked angry again, staring off into space as if he'd dearly like to murder something if only he had the chance.

"Oh ho ho!" Hermione said with a sardonic laugh. "So that's what this is about."

"People have been talking," Harry said, almost helplessly, arms hanging limp by his sides. This was obviously not going the way he had planned.

"Let them talk," Hermione snapped. "So here we are, then. It comes out at last. I suppose you boys would rather listen to a bunch of gossip than actually ask me about it face to face."

"We are asking you face to face, Hermione; right now," Harry replied with a bit more force behind his voice now.

"All that has happened between Draco and me," she said slowly, "has been completely and totally innocent. He's been a perfect gentleman, and actually, he hasn't even tried to kiss me again since the other night, when you two appeared out of nowhere and seemed ready to hex him into next year. And if he were to try again," Ron's head snapped up at this, "I'm not so sure I would stop him," she finished, relishing the looks of shock and horror that registered on their faces.

"Well then, if that's how it's going to be," Ron said suddenly, standing to his full height and looking rather impressive as the firelight behind him caused him to look much taller and perhaps a bit dangerous as well, "then I'm through."

"Through?" Hermione asked in a small voice. She wasn't sure if she should be angry or frightened, so she managed to be both at once.

Ron took the room in three long strides and stood over her, staring down into her upturned face. She was easily head and shoulders shorter than he was, and he looked even more menacing with his face shadowed like it was.

"It's him or me," he growled.

"What – what are you talking about?"

Ron laughed. Not a merry laugh, but a low, mirthless chuckle that caused Hermione to shiver, though the room was very warm. Harry stood stock-still by the fire, something akin to understanding and half-horror on his face.

"Him – or – me," Ron repeated slowly, dark eyes once more fixed on her face. Then he leaned down and kissed her full on the lips, a crushing, punishing kiss that almost knocked her over with the force of it. His hand went to her arm to steady her and the kiss softened slightly as her eyes drifted shut for a moment, before he pulled away abruptly and left; left her standing there, holding on to the chair behind her for support, her lips bruised and tingling, her mind foggy and confused.

When she looked around, he was gone, and Harry was smiling in a sad way from his spot by the fireplace.

"What – the hell – was that about?" she asked shakily, dropping into the chair at last and trying to make sense of this whole nonsensical mess. Harry laughed humorlessly.

"For someone who's so smart, you sure are acting stupid."

Hermione bristled at that. "What do you mean, stupid? I've not done anything! I come in here and suddenly you two ambush me with some sort of…intervention or something, and then Ron kisses me! And I'm acting stupid? What's going on?"

"You honestly don't know." It wasn't a question. Harry shook his head and muttered something like, "brightest witch of our age..."

"Ron's in love with you, Hermione," he said slowly. Hermione blinked. "And you can't even see that?"

Hermione suddenly felt very small. All at once, the events of the past few months – and even, if she was honest, few years – fell into place and she understood. Of course he loved her. How could she be so blind? To be completely truthful, she had once hoped – but that was the past now.

Those feelings didn't even register on her emotional radar now. Somehow they had melted away over the past summer; with her happiness with Viktor and then her grief, the treasured things she had once felt for Ron were simply no longer there.

It was beyond tragic; it was hopeless. There was nothing for it. She didn't love Ron.

"What am I going to do?" she asked to no one in particular.

"You don't love him, then," Harry said, causing her to jump in surprise. She'd honestly forgotten he was even with her in the room still.

Slowly, she shook her head.

"Well, there's nothing for it," he went on. "He'll be all right, I think…I almost think he knew this was going to happen, he just hoped – but it can't be helped. You can't feel what you can't feel," he finished, putting an arm around her shoulders and giving her a small squeeze. He smiled a sad sort of smile and patted her back once or twice before heading for the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

"Harry?"

He paused with his foot on the first stair and turned to look at her.

"How can we all still be friends now?" she asked in a shaky voice. He smiled a genuine smile now.

"We've been through Dementors, a bloodthirsty Basalisk, giant chess games, dragons, and now, Voldemort," he replied, ticking them off on his fingers. "I think we can make it through this, too."

With another encouraging smile, he bade her good night and disappeared up the stairs.

Hermione hoped beyond hope that he was right.

The next day was, simply put, horrible. Unbearable, almost.

Ron wouldn't look in her direction. Harry was playing middle man again, and he didn't like it much, so it was making him cross. Hermione was getting a bit tired of Ron's attitude as well. Not to mention everyone was on edge for the first Quidditch game that afternoon. It also didn't help that half of Slytherin house seemed to be hanging round them and trying to make things worse with their barely-veiled insults and jeers about the upcoming game.

It all hit the fan that afternoon right before the match. In later days, after it was over, Hermione learned that it was a combination of Ron's hurt feelings, his jealous nature, and his apprehension about his playing in the upcoming game that triggered it. Whatever it was, however, it didn't change the fact that it hurt Hermione almost more than words can express.

They were walking back from the Great Hall after lunch. Hermione had, as usual, put on a great show of eating, when in reality she'd barely taken a few bites here and there. Apparently, Ron had noticed.

"What's wrong with you, anyway?" he asked as they began to make their way out the front doors.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Hermione replied airily. "Oh, look, Harry, it's perfect conditions, isn't it?" she went on, pointing towards the sky, which was smooth cloud cover all the way round, which meant that the sun wouldn't glare in their eyes as they played. She had heard them talk enough about it in recent years she knew this was a good thing.

Ron had stopped walking suddenly, and Harry and Hermione swung around to stare at him expectantly, and Hermione's heart began beating a bit more quickly.

"I think you know exactly what I mean," he said darkly, and Hermione felt her face flush. Then she tilted her chin up defiantly.

"I don't think I can be expected to read your mind, Ron," she replied.

"Why are you doing it? Is it for him?" he ground out through clenched teeth. Hermione winced. "Aren't you good enough for him the way you are? Who does he think he is, anyway? He doesn't have enough; now he's got to have you, too?"

"Ron! What are you saying?"

"He's obviously got you brainwashed or something…the Hermione I know doesn't act like this! She'd never…well she wouldn't try and change herself to please some pureblooded prat!"

"Who says I'm trying to change for anybody in particular? Who says I'm trying to do anything at all?" she added in a much softer voice. She wasn't, really. She wasn't trying to change anything…or was she? It didn't matter just now. Ron was talking again. Or rather, yelling.

"He's not good enough for you, Hermione! You don't have to do this for him! He – he could never care about you like me…"

"Would anyone be good enough?" she asked quietly.

"Of course not! But especially not him," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest and staring expectantly at her, as if that was argument enough. She rolled her eyes.

"I'll be sure to ask you the next time I care what you think about who I'm friends with," she said as she pushed past him roughly on his left side back up the stone steps, nearly knocking him over.

"Why don't you just go off and snog him then, and leave me the hell alone?" Ron shouted after her retreating form. She paused. Then she slowly turned on the spot, ignoring the onlookers who had begun to crowd around them.

"Maybe I will," she said in a low voice.

"If you go to him, Hermione, you can be sure of one thing," he bit out through gritted teeth.

"Oh? What's that?"

"You can forget about having me as a friend."

"Do you ever think that just now, maybe I don't want you for a friend? With the way you're acting, I'd be surprised if anyone did!" Hermione shouted back, tears in her eyes.

"As long as I don't have to look at you, then I suppose I'll be all right!"

But Hermione didn't hear him. She had already turned and fled into the castle. She couldn't have told you where she was going, but she knew she couldn't stay there.

It was quiet and dark in the great entrance hall; it was empty by now, for most people were headed down to the Quidditch pitch to watch the game. She couldn't see properly because her tears had blurred her vision, and she slowed her steps as she came to the main stairway leading up to the higher floors.

She dropped onto the bottom step and wiped at the traitorous tears, willing herself to not care what Ron had said, that he hadn't really meant it and they would all be friends before sunset.

Oh, what she would give if she could re-live this past year! If only she hadn't befriended Viktor, hadn't started dating him in the first place, then she wouldn't have had the horrible heartbreak she'd had to suffer over the summer. She would have been shocked and sorry, just like everyone else, but it wouldn't have torn her up inside like it did.

If they'd never dated, then he would never had occasion to cheat on her – if what Malfoy was saying was true, which she still wasn't sure. But it all wouldn't matter if they'd never been together in the first place.

Then, possibly, she could have returned Ron's affections, and they could have actually been happy together, instead of hating each other and fighting and vowing never to be friends again.

If only she could have a Time-Turner that could turn back a whole year! She would change everything! She would even go back and save Viktor, just to set everything right. Then she would be happy. Then she wouldn't be sitting here, crying her eyes out like a blubbering fool.

Suddenly she heard a footstep on the stone floor of the entrance hall and a voice startled her out of her reverie.

"Granger? Hermione, are you all right?"

"D-Draco," she stuttered, standing up on somewhat shaky legs. "You gave me a fright."

"You haven't answered my question," he said, looking concerned as he placed a hand on her arm to steady her.

"I'm fine, of course," she lied. Draco looked at her hard, and she could tell he didn't believe a bit of it. She dropped back onto the step in a heap. "Oh, all right. I've had another fight with Ron."

"As much as it pleases me to know that you've fought with the Weasel," he replied dryly as he seated himself beside her, and Hermione shot him a half-hearted glare, "dare I ask what the fight was about?"

"Oh, he just said – he said all sorts of horrible things…"

"And he made you cry?"

Hermione flushed. It was one thing for him to come upon her and catch her at it, but it was quite another to admit to him that something Ron said had caused her to cry. She nodded slowly.

"What did he say – exactly?" Draco asked after a moment. Hermione couldn't look at him, but she did see that his hand that was resting in his lap was clenched into a fist.

"He – he said that I was stupid for trying to change myself…he seemed to think I was doing something to impress you," here she paused, but Draco didn't say anything, so she continued, "and that – well, that he didn't want to be my f-friend anymore…" Here she broke down into fresh tears.

"That idiot," Draco muttered. Then he stood up abruptly. He held out his hand for her, but she just continued to stare at him, open-mouthed, not understanding.

"We've got a Quidditch match to go to," he explained. Right. How could I forget?

She put her hand in his and allowed him to help her stand. Then they walked down to the Quidditch pitch, Hermione still quite confused about their conversation and Draco's strange behavior.

A/N 2 : Preview.

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"My son wouldn't lie to his father, nor would he associate himself with that filth," Lucius replied coldly. "Now, are you willingly going tell me what you've been doing, or shall I have to loosen your tongue for you?"

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