Well if there was a problem I can't solve, I'd just forget about.
I've always had everything I've ever wanted, and never doubted.
That I'd not only have my cake and eat it too,
But lately something tells me I've been fooled
But I'll bet you'll forget about me.
- Selective Memory, We Are Scientists

The breeze is swishing lightly, making my hair dance across my forehead. I push my fringe away from my eyes for about the fifth time. It's quite annoying.

I've been sitting on the hard rocky ground for nearly an hour against the hedges, mindlessly staring into the afternoon sky, and listening to the device Granger gave me. I haven't figured out how to master it yet, so I left it on Muse considering I should do what she told me and 'let it soak in'. So far they're a hit and a miss to me. In some songs their lyrics lack lustre while the music is intricate and pleasant, yet others are deep but with a simple melody. Either way, their songs are vastly different from one another; I find myself enjoying them. Which is saying something because I'm rather picky.

I think it's strange that wizards don't have something like this, a portable music machine. I mean, using a muffliato charm always works when I'm in my room so my parents aren't bothered by the symphonies from my record player, but I can't always hide in my room. Right now it feels like the notes and song are inside of my head rather than around me; it's almost eerie.
But I like it.

And it helps me avoid thinking about where I'm going to try to go.

I'm not going back to Granger's. I can't bring myself to even consider that as a choice after what happened.

I don't know where Nott lives, so I can't Apparate there. As if I'd want to check up on him and Millicent probably making babies and being generally nauseated by the experience.
I'm at a loss.

But right now, it seems I'm not as bothered about where to go than about how I feel about liking this 'i-pod' . My father always told me that Muggles were dependant on their technology. "They lapse into a state where they become mindless slaves, consuming whatever the 'media' , corporations and famous people tell them to." Sickeningly attached to inanimate objects, he said; but wands 'aren't the same'. We control our magic: they control what they buy, but not what can be used on the items they bought, or who gets the rightly deserved money.

I don't know, though. These seem useful enough to me, but perhaps that's part of the appeal. I don't know how you actually get music onto this thing, or how much it costs. Or who made it for that matter. Everything I've ever bought has been handmade by one person or another.

And actually, now that I think about it, I think i've seen these things before. One night when father, Dolohov and I were on a mission made to retrieve a blood traitor and bring them to Voldemort last year, we almost were seen by a Muggle woman who was jogging. She was holding this little black device and had the buds in her ears. She didn't hear or see us. We could've easily killed her, no fuss no muss. No witnesses and no screams. She didn't even think it was dangerous.

In a world like ours used to be, that's an idiotic thing to possess. But then again, it's so pleasant, the constant stream of music at your fingertips.

I'm fighting an inner battle.

After what Granger told me, about my mother….about what she did for me and for Potter, I have a hard time even trusting one word that came out of my father's mouth. He loved me, I know he did; but I think my mother loves me more and always has. And now I find myself trying to decide what side I'm really on, now that I have the choice, and furthermore, are there even sides? Is there a dark and a light? I'm sure there are nut-jobs who still want to continue Lord Voldemort's reign. And certainly more who still hate Mudbloods. But I'm not one of them anymore.

After talking to mother, even she didn't seem to know what was right last time I spoke to her.

Oh Merlin, I hope I never have to enlighten her on what occurred in Granger's bedroom. Honestly. Even if she has had a small change of heart, she still looks down her nose at Muggles and in turn Mudbloods. I'd also get caught lying. She thinks I'm at Millicent's; fuck I forgot that.

I feel a sense of impending doom on the horizon. My story is going to fall through when she either comes back to let me inside the house, if she comes back and lets me inside the house, or when she sees me acting suspiciously flustered. Secrets are hard to hide; this is why I never used to feel any weight on my shoulders. I didn't give a shit what I let out.

In sixth year I nearly died from the constant stress of not bawling out of frustration or being able to confide in anyone but a stupid ghost about how I felt doing all of these terrible, disgusting things to save my own skin. Mother is also, well, my mother. She knows when something is wrong with me, she has the instinct.

And these recent feelings that are revolving so silently around in my head and my stomach can't be ignored for much longer. The happy feelings.

I like Granger.
Her eyes, smile, breasts, legs, hair even…everything.
And I know I don't know her true personality very well, but what I do know attracts me. She's smart, witty, can play, can hold her own, and at the same time she's nice. She's been nice to me.

I've never admired people who were 'nice' before, but I've learned in the past few years that kindness will always lead you to greater things than power ever could. Look at Potter, for example, that nitwit. Everyone loves him because he's 'uncommonly kind'. He never wanted to be the person he is, but he was made for the job without any question, he is a born leader. When I tried to be the leader, I made few friends and lots of enemies. By listening to every word that comes from a person who's supposed to love you, you get lost in them.

I don't like confrontation. I never have.

I also hate following orders, which makes no sense considering I was a Death Eater. Considering I wanted to be just like my father…considering I was meant to be violent but chickened out at every opportunity to prove my worth. Considering my soul didn't want me to be like this, as lamely poetic as that sounds.

Hating people for what they are rather than who they are is no good, I've decided. Now, that doesn't mean I don't think that appearances and reputation aren't important; that's what the whole damn world runs on. But I think that I'm a little willing to shuck some of my beliefs out the window for some new ones. And you know, I guess I already have. I mean I went to Muggle London, for fucks sake. 3 years ago the mere thought would've made me rage and gag at the prospect of filth; filth I know now doesn't exist. They live just like us, Muggles. I see no difference except for the tools we use. Both prosper in their own way, and neither is perfect.

I suppose it's really time to take a chance at my life. I feel strange; uplifted, different. Revelations have been cast upon me.

I look down at Granger's possession, liking a song I've never heard come on. Hoodoo.

Come into my life, regress into a dream
We will hide, build a new reality
Draw another picture, of the life you could have had
Follow your instincts, and choose the other path.

Yes, that's exactly what I'll do, isn't it? Build a new reality…One where everyone can see how much I've changed. I'm sick of this hatred.

But first, I must battle the task at hand.
I may feel rejuvenated but I still have my tail between my legs. I can't go back to Granger's. I just….can't.

A possibility of where I could go just pops unannounced into my head, and it's a preposterous idea, insane.

I stand up and hesitantly walk away from my safe haven under a low hanging branch. I pull out the headphones from my ears, put the device in my pocket and whip out my wand.

The chance of success of what I'm going to try doing is slim at best. But, I have to know if the possibility is an option on the table. So I can rule it out or wave it in once and for all.

I close my eyes and focus where I want to go, picturing my destination in my mind. Then I feel the tight squeeze around me and I'm gone.

I'm at a loss.

Draco Malfoy kissed me.
And you know what?…It felt nice. I can't even imagine what it would've been like if he had been conscious.

Was he dreaming about kissing me?

I don't think so.
I don't know if I want him to think so.

You see, I still don't know if he likes me properly or not.

Not even romantically, but in a friendly way. Maybe he likes the way I look in a dress or tight pants, but that doesn't mean he thinks of me as anything but a piece of meat. I've found a lot of people 'attractive' who were completely vile, and I simply shook away the thought of ever wanting to do anything with them.

Yet Malfoy apologized to me, and he came here to see me when it was clear he opposed the idea. I know I shouldn't forgive him or praise things so easily, when I normally wouldn't, being so stubborn. But this is a Slytherin bully who's hated me for 7 years we're talking about. This is a boy who agreed to research my favourite band and came to my house, and was pleasant to my mother. My Muggle mother.

An apology from him is like a hug from the bloody Queen.

And a kiss from him, well, that was lovely.
It troubles me deeply.

When I was with Ron for those few months, the times before we were 'official' and during, my favourite thing to do was snog him. It's really uncharacteristic of me to most, but I'm quite romantic behind closed doors. I like physical contact as much as the next person.

I thought that nobody could rival Ron's smooches; Viktor had given me similar swoops in the stomach with his lips, but that's because he was my first kiss I'm sure.

With Ron, I felt all the stupid girly things that my friends tell me a kiss feels like, when believed it utter nonsense before. I suddenly understood why girls made it out to be like some religious experience; our kisses were satisfying and loving, and they were the best.
But the one thing I never seemed to get upon kissing my lovely redhead was any type of lust. I cared about Ron, I loved Ron; I still love Ron. Don't get me wrong about that.

But we've been friends for so long. He wasn't some mysterious entity like Viktor was. Viktor admired my intelligence and I suppose I admired his looks and charm, so it was all purely chemical; new. I could've fantasized about him, and I'll admit I did once or twice, because I didn't know him top to toe, inside out. I could let myself imagine what he was really like.

Ron is different. I do know him inside out, I understand how he works. I know what he's really like. But I did know there was still more to find out, more to explore. So the kisses were amazing, but anything past that was really off limits to me because it was too much too soon. I wanted to comfort his deepest insecurities, and for him to explain them everything to me rather than lock himself in a box. I wanted a deeper connection than he let me get at. I needed him to open up to me before I did anything sexual, because I knew that sleeping with him wouldn't feel right until I knew every minute detail, things even Harry didn't know.

Friends are hard to fuck.

Otherwise, it would've felt like sleeping with a family member. If that happened, obviously the relationship would be destroyed. And the last thing I wanted was for our relationship to go down south. I guess that's why I freaked out when it happened and why it ended so harshly that summer night.

It's a memory burned at the back of my mind….

{}

"Mmmm, Hermione," Ron whispers into my neck as he nibbles it delicately. His breath makes me shiver and his bite gives me a little dart of pleasure. We're on his bed, me lying on top of him, my legs in between his, and both our shirts have been discarded. Skin on bare skin feels satisfying, especially when he wraps his arms around me tightly.

I'm not as apprehensive as I normally am; I have no worries of getting caught at the moment. Harry and Ginny are probably off experiencing similar things as we in her room one floor down. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have gone to Shell Cottage for the evening, to visit Fleur and Bill with little Teddy. Fleur is expecting you see and –

"Ah!" I give a little squeak as Ron agilely unclasps the fastenings and pulls my bra off. He presses his rough hands on me, feeling my naked breasts. He groans appreciatively at the contact of the flesh and the sound my voice made. This is the farthest I've gone with him: with anyone. As he kneads and grabs and pinches, he leans up to my lips and kisses me anything but politely.

It's like a need. Like my mouth is his only sustenance.

I have to say that while I was reluctant at first for him to even go near my boobs, let alone take my top off, I'm enjoying it. My nipples are sensitive to the feel of hasty fingers groping them, but when he slows it down it turns me on. It's a scary daunting prospect, thinking about sex.

He informed me earlier he wants to, I quote, "explore the depth that is you until I know you inside out." That's probably the most romantic thing I've ever heard, yet it doesn't hold as much loveliness as it should. This is exactly the same idea I was discussing with him earlier this week, but this isn't what I had in mind.

And it's getting incredibly serious now; Ron is extremely hard, and I'm wearing a skirt.

I thought 'exploring' me meant emotional exploration too, he knows that's what I want...But he's been trying for weeks to get me in here alone. He was jubilant when he found out about his parents departure.

I think he needs to learn the subtle art of restraint at such things, like Harry. I know he and Ginny have done things, but how far, I'm not too sure. Molly and Arthur asked George to 'babysit' us, because of Ron's obvious intentions, but he fell asleep on the couch an hour ago, having indulged a bit too much on the Weasley liquor cabinet.

I know I'm not ready for Ron and I to lead past this, past snogging and touching. I know he is, but I just need him to respect this decision. It isn't as if I don't want do all these fantastic things, I'm just not comfortable quite yet. I don't know what I would possibly do faced with his nether regions if his pants became unzipped.

But I'm reading far too into this, I want to embrace the moment. I want to enjoy this too.

I stop thinking so much and hold his hands still over my breasts. He's making them a bit sore with all this intense tugging, but I'm not about to insult him by telling him that. I'll show him how I want it. I pull away from his devouring tongue and stare at him straight in his blue eyes for a moment. A long moment.

"Mione what's wrong?" he asks concerned, looking up and down my face. "Are you o–"

Trying to be alluring, I cut him off by leaning down, clutching his head by his fiery hair and kissing him deeply and slowly. He moans appreciatively, then grabs my hair, tangling his hands in it. So I continue.

I want the passion to build. I want him to feel the love I have for him. I'm not sure if i'm ready for anything else; it's too weird, too foreign, too soon. We haven't said those three little words yet. I don't even know if we need to. It's implied to me, yet I'd love to hear it aloud. But maybe they'll slip out of his mouth tonight. It would be perfect.

I haven't gotten my parents back yet; Professor McGonagall told me continental apparition is dangerous at best, so I'm waiting for Kingsley or someone strong to take me to Australia. It's been nearly 2 months of agony, but I spent an entire school year without them, I know I'll hang in there a little more. That's why I'm staying here for the moment.

It's good to be around Harry and Ron all the time when we're happy and carefree, but I would so like Ron to meet my parents before we do anything drastic like this. Constantly being in his company allows him to push for more. Mum knows, well will remember once I modify her memory back, that I like him. In all honesty, it's only been a few weeks of being official. God, it took him a month of snogging and late nights for him to finally ask me out properly, even though he constantly referred to me as his girlfriend. I asked him but he said he wanted to be the gentleman, sigh.

Okay, shut up Hermione.

Kiss your boyfriend.

I return my fifty-track mind to Ron, and deepen the kiss once again. Now he's running his hands all over me, still tangling his fingers in my hair, then smoothly down my back, across my bum and back up again. It feels amazing.

So very good; he finally understands that I want the tender intense pecks instead of fast sloppy ones. I venture my hands away from his head and down to his shoulders, wrapping my arms around his neck.

I let slip a groan of delight as he caresses my scalp with nimble fingers, causing shocks of electricity to flow through me. He pulls away, then opens his eyes, staring hungrily into my own. He smiles a wicked grin then slides his hands down to my thighs. He pulls my legs open so I'm straddling his waist and leaves his palms on my skin. The bulge is now pressed against me; I feel myself getting hot around my lower half, and I try to wiggle away from Ron's firm grip on my legs.

However, he takes this as a wrong signal, and begins to buck under me, moving his groin rhythmically against my panties. I stop our now-continued make out session from the surprise and pull my head up, my arms still wrapped around him. He doesn't seem to notice, his eyes are closed with a smile on his face.

He looks so adorable.

No, no, no. He needs to stop.

I know my body wants it, it's responding to it. But my mind has always been stronger; I can't let it keep slipping because of his effect on me. This doesn't feel right.

"R-Ron I-"

"Hermione," he murmurs. It's so delicate the way it rolls of his tongue that I almost regret stopping him. His hands roam from my legs to my back again and he wraps them around me in my favourite way. No.

He widens his eyes suddenly and stares intently up and down my face and body. I inhale deeply and hold the air in my lungs. This is it. I know it. He's going to say it.

"Hermione?"

"Y-yes Ron?" My heart is at a standstill.

"I…"

He pauses and I can feel the oxygen slowly leaving me. Say it, just say it!

"Yes?"

"I need to unzip my pants."

And just like that, my heart fizzles into disappointment.

Should I just say it? Why am I so afraid?

A small voice in the back of my head is spurring me on. There isn't a rulebook on love that dictates the boy has to be first. I guess I just feel vulnerable putting my heart on the line. I get off of him, choosing to sit beside him cross-legged. I need to know.

Ron fumbles with his belt, and after having opened it, he unzips his fly and is lying there huffing, his erection extremely evident now. He turns onto his side and grabs my hand, squeezing it.

"You really are the best person, you know?" He leans in and gives me a long sweet kiss. I smile despite myself.

"I am, huh?" I giggle.

"Mmhmm," he laughs, and in one swift motion, he pulls me by the elbow and pushes me against his pillows. It's his turn to be dominant. He kicks off his pants, leaving him in just boxers and lays over me in the push up position.

Lowering himself onto me, he eases a hand to my tights, and starts tugging at them to pull them down my leg.

I tense my body.

"Ron, wait." I grab his wrist with my hand and he stops and looks up at me.

"Yeah?" he asks me worried. My expression is less than happy, I can feel the frown etched there.

"Ron….Ron, do you love me?"

His face twists into surprise, but he says not a thing. Silence fills the room, it's a solid minute now; which speaks more volumes than any words ever could.

I move my hand away from his, feeling exposed.

"Of course I do, 'Mione, you know that," he says a little too late, reaching for my hand again.

"I suppose I know…but you never say it. I know actions are supposed to be better than words, but I want you to say 'I love you' to me once in a while."

"Well you've never said it to me," he says confused, kneeling while I sit up to face him properly. Oh god, now he thinks I'm needy.

"I know, but I was waiting. I was a bit….scared that maybe you didn't love me as much. You know it's been that way since sixth year…." I trail, not mentioning any flowery details.

"Merlin, Hermione, just because you kissed me first doesn't mean I regret this relationship happening at all!" he says slightly angrily. "Obviously not with the position we're in now. And if you told me you loved me, maybe I'd be more inclined to say it back; don't you think I could have been worried too?"

"Worried how? That I wouldn't return it?"

"No! But it's hard saying it first, Harry agrees. Took him ages to tell Ginny."

"So? That doesn't mean it has to be the same for us!"

"I guess not, but-"

"I love you, Ron Weasley."

The words tumble from my mouth, and immediately I wish I could eat them back up. It isn't that I don't mean them; it's that I shouldn't have said them so quickly after he accused me of not saying them either.

His ears turn red, and he's frowning, struggling at what to say.

"You too, 'Mione."

My lungs drop into my stomach.

"Can we talk about this later, though? Please?" He gives me the puppy dog eyes but I'm not swayed. I simply say nothing and lay back down, irritated.

He returns to my tights, and for a moment I don't care, but suddenly I don't want to kiss him. I don't want him to touch me there.

He still hasn't said it. 'You too' doesn't count.
Anger wells up inside of me.

I heard him say 'I love you' to Lavender. I don't want to be petty, but it's unfair. He didn't even love her, and she gets the satisfaction anyways.

And suddenly, my black hose are off, and I'm left in my short summer skirt and thin underwear. He's sliding his hand up my leg, and my ears are buzzing and my blood is boiling so I push him away from me hard. Blank shock appears on his face.

"What's the matter?"

"Just….stop, please."

"Stop? But 'Mione, I thought – "

"I know what you thought!" I explode, feeling overly exposed and vulnerable. "How can you immediately go back to fondling me like I'm some, object, after I've just told you I love you! ? You didn't even say it back!" A tear forms at the side of my eye but I don't dare wipe it away and let him know it's there in the near darkness.

"An object, Hermione? You think I want to have sex with you because you're an object to me! ?" God, he sounds so angry. He looks so angry. But I don't give a damn.

"Sex? Were we planning on having sex? You didn't really run that little detail by me," I hiss.

"W-what? You mean you don't want to?"

"Want to? The question isn't if I want to. Ron, you haven't even met my parents! We haven't even done anything besides kiss! I'm a little uncomfortable at just going at it in a snap. Surely we need to do more before that."

"Well no, we don't. It's not required."

What the hell is he even saying? He says it with such conviction but its crap, utterly crap!

"Well maybe I want to be familiar with your penis before I stick it just anywhere," I spit venomously.

He blushes a deeper crimson, unsure of what to say. "Well, we weren't not going to have some foreplay or anything…"

"Ron, do you even know what you're doing in that department? Because I certainly don't! I need time to test it out. And I don't want to just have sex when I'm clearly not ready and neither are you."

I cross my arms defiantly. I expect him with a retort ready on his lips. Only, he looks at me for a mere second and then looks away, embarrassed.

No, that's not right.

He should be arguing with me for doubting his abilities.

"What?" My turn to ask.

He looks at me with horrified eyes, a guilty look.

"What?"

"I-I"

"Yes? Spit it out." I glare at him and finally -

"I'm not a virgin, Hermione."

And in one swift minute, the world crashes down over my brain, giving me a splitting headache and a numb feeling. My stomach churns at the very thought of him and her, getting randy someplace.

"Where?"

"Um."

"When?"

"L-Lavender and I found an empty classroom in year six, o-obviously, and um, we did it in there during dinner…" he squeaks.

This does not compute.

"How many times?" It comes out as a whisper.

"Maybe…10," he says huskily. "Not too many..."10? Not too many?

"Were you ever going to tell me this?"

"Well I didn't want to trouble you with it…."

"Ron! You need to tell me this kind of thing. I trust you; you have to be honest to earn that. And sex isn't a simple matter. And having it right now? You need be checked out, in fact we both should, just to know we're completely healthy before we –"

"Oh so you think I'm dirty now just because I fucked another girl do you? Just because she wasn't some, some – prude, like you!"

Immediately he covers his mouth like he's said something foul. To me, it's as if he slapped me in the face. I take a deep breath.

"Just because I'm careful and thoughtful about these things, and maybe a little apprehensive, does not mean I'm a prude, Ronald Weasley." He flinches at my anguish-filled tone and the usage of his full name.

"I know, I know…I didn't mean –"

"Of course you meant it like that! Maybe you don't love me then, do you? Maybe you thought you did and changed your mind? Maybe sex was a sure way of telling whether you felt something or not. After all, you told Lavender you loved her, probably before you shagged her, but you won't give the same decency to me, your current girlfriend." I snap. His turn to be bitch-slapped.

"I didn't know what love was back then, okay? She let me kiss her and touch her, it was puppy love! Of course I was going to tell her I loved her, I thought I did. How could you even think of comparing this to her? What we have is a lot more meaningful to me! What we have is real love! "

"THEN ACT LIKE IT!" I scream. "Tell me that you love me! SAY It." He looks nonplussed and I don't enjoy making him squirm, I want him to suffer until he can admit how he really feels about me.

"I-I…"

"Why can't you do it? Is it because I'm your friend first? You can't get past that, can you?"

He shakes his head, but I see right through it. I swing my legs off the bed, and get up. I search for my clothes. Of course I only see his shirt lying on the ground, and not mine or my bra.

"Can you get past it? !" He asks it more like a question rather than an affront, like that thought never occurred to him.

"I don't know! I'm trying, I really am! I love you a lot. But maybe if you talked to me once in a while, it would work! It still feels like were friends! I don't just want to be friends with benefits, Ron. I don't want to have sex with my friend! I want to have sex when I'm ready, with the boyfriend I love. One who differs from the boy I used to know. I need a new perspective of you."

I decide to just grab his shirt off the ground and toss it over me, not caring about breast support because I just want to cover up. I turn to him and he's half naked on the bed, and scowling.

"What are you doing?" he asks slowly as I stand in the same spot.

"Going to find Ginny."

"And why would you do that?"

"So I can talk to her about her stupid older brother and his apparent commitment problems with me."

"We don't have intimacy problems! And don't you dare go to Ginny!"

"Or what? And lies, we obviously do if we're arguing! If I don't see her, I'm just going to go talking to George or Harry anyhow.."

"NO!" He shouts, getting off the bed too, livid. He stands up and starts heaving; in the small room it takes few steps to get to me.

"Don't you dare threaten me with my family members!"

"I'm not threatening you! You're the one who lied about having sex, won't say 'I love you' to me, yet you claim you absolutely love me more than your ex-girlfriend! And then you call me a prude because I won't fuck you after a month? I want to know you like you know you Ron! I don't want to be lied to."

He looks shocked at my uncommon vulgarity. But I don't care. I'm being honest, unlike him.

"How dare you? You didn't say you loved me until tonight either, Hermione! And you know how I get when I'm ANGRY! I'm fucking frustrated, do you know how long I've wanted to have sex with you! ? How amazing I think that would be? There, that's something you can know about me that only I know!"

"What! ? Is that why we're going out, for you to get your sexual fix? !"

"NO. YOU KNOW THAT'S NOT IT! Why are you being so goddamn difficult! ?"

"I'm confused! What do you want, Ron? I've loved you for 4 years and now that I finally have you it isn't as spectacular as I thought it would be. Nothing is different except for kisses, which are great, really great, but I need more. I need more emotional simulation! So what do you want from me? What do you need?"

"Oh, of course. So things aren't looking up to your standards, are they? Just because I want to have sex, a normal thing for 18 year olds to do with their girlfriends, and other things, that means it's too much to handle for you? You're out of your element and you feel scared so the world has to stop for you just because for once you're the ignorant one. For once I'm the savvy one and it kills you, doesn't it?"

"Ron! How – how can you -? No! It isn't because you have more experience, it just didn't feel right, and –"

"It NEVER DOES, Hermione and you know why! ? Because you're high fucking maintenance! I'm not perfect and I NEVER will be! EVER. You strive on everything being so fucking perfect all the time that you don't even think about my needs! I know you like the back of my hand, I don't want to sit around talking about crap that we have our whole lives to talk about! I love you, happy? I LOVE YOU. Is it in your head yet? I just never say that to people, not even my parents. When I actually mean it, it's that much harder to tell you so. Lavender said it so quickly to me that it took me by surprise."

His face is such a deep crimson, I'm afraid to interrupt him.

"R-Ron. I'm sorry, I just –"

"You just what? WHAT? I've been trying to change for you, but you never seem to notice that, or seem to care! All you do is complain that it's too much, or too soon, or too fast! It's not as if you don't know me! I'm not a stranger, don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do Ron, it's just that –"

"That what? I'm not attractive enough, right? You miss your ickle Vicky don't you? Bet you'd rather be touching his six pack and running your fingers through his brown hair rather than my -"

I slap him across the cheek. He did not just go there. He looks ready to kill me but I don't give him a chance.

"How dare you? What I was going, to say Ron? Was that your need for sex made me feel like you wanted my body rather than my soul. That you wanted to satisfy your craving. I know you care for me, but if you respected me as you've shown me before, you'd wait, you'd ask to see if I was ready. And yelling 'I love you' to me isn't exactly what I had in mind."

He's raging now. "Of course it isn't! I think you should just get the hell out of my room and out of my life if I'm not good enough for you. Don't talk about respect when you just HIT ME IN MY ROOM!"

"Well, how dare you bring up Viktor?"

"How dare you bring up LAVENDER?"

"You had sex with her! You didn't tell me that! And you expected that of me tonight, but you wouldn't share that lovely previous information?"

"JUST SHUT UP, SHUT THE HELL UP!" The tears are relentless as they streak my face with wet. I can't take this agony.

"Don't talk to me like that! I'm leaving!" I push open the door, and am about to step out but he yanks me back by the shirt sleeve.

"What are you doing, let go Ron!"

"No, I want my shirt back. Give me back my shirt!"

"Ron, I can't find mine, just please. I'll give it to you in the morning and-"

"NO. You don't get to wear it. Take it off!" He grabs at the fabric and pulls at it so hard, that the jersey long sleeve starts to rip.

"Stop it! STOP!"

"Hermione? What's wrong? Are you ok?" A groggy voice from Ginny is heard from the hallway staircase.

With one last swift tug, he pulls it off me in one big move, and it splits right in half, leaving me topless in view of the corridor.

"No!" I wail, crying, helpless, almost nude. I jump back into the room, behind the door.

"Everything's just fine Ginny, you go back to Harry!' Ron warns.

"Ron? Why are you so angry; what did you do!" I hear footsteps and I don't know where to move. Ron grips my forearm, not allowing me freedom, and pulls me back near the bed. He's trying to steady his breathing.

"Ron, let go."

"No. Look, I exploded I –"

"It's too late." I wrench my arm from his grip and cover my exposed chest.

5 seconds later, a swish of red mane appears at my side and then immediately I hear the sound of fist on skin.

Ron recoils from the attack and I'm free. My sobs grow louder as Ginny drapes her sweater on me when I fall to my knees.

She puts her arm around me and helps me up again. "Let's go to my room, Hermione…."

Ron seems to have come to his senses and stands up quickly. "Hermione! Hermione, look, please, Hermione-" I turn to face him and he shuts up. Ginny looks murderous.

"Save it. I can't deal with this. If you get this angry all the time...this jealous…I don't want our friendship and relationship to deteriorate further than it has tonight. Ron, we're…we're done. We need to salvage what's left of this, as friends. I'm sorry."

His now downtrodden face makes me cry all over again. I walk with her out of his room for probably the last time.

{}

The memory makes me want to vomit.

My frustration towards Ron resurfaces, but so does my desire for closeness.

I miss him. I miss cuddling. I miss kisses. His special 'Hermione' smile.

But you know what?

I don't want that.

It would be so easy to go back. Back to that relationship. I know this time he'd be that much more careful and that much more attentive. But I don't even want to have sex with him, which really was the only thing we're missing from what we had and potentially could have now. Intimacy, emotionally and physically is what we missed.

Kissing was enough for me then, and now when I compare sensations...They're the same as a certain blonde boy.

When Malfoy kissed me, I felt that familiar sensation of flying over the moon, and he only kissed me for a millisecond; it was like a shockwave. A chemical thing. I kind of wanted to touch him, but it felt forbidden, not allowed. And I'm generally one to follow rules.

So now I'm confused.

So very, very confused.

His personality is still lacking, and I need to know about what he was thinking before he woke up, or it'll drive me insane for the rest of my life. I want him to do something to redeem himself besides apologizing, because that only goes so far. I want him to be better than Ron. I have to face facts; I want him to be good so I can let myself fall into his allure. I want to have a good reason to be attracted to him.

It's like with Ron. I need to understand him before...before I do something I'll regret. The desire is definitely there, but is that it? It seems Malfoy holds the desire that was missing with Ron.

If only I could talk to someone. Harry is obviously out of the question. Mum is very rational and understanding of behaviour, but can't keep quiet, and Dad would have a fit if she told him a thing. Ginny is out of bounds right now because of her bias towards Harry and her past experiences with him. I feel like nobody would understand…

"Oh, dear cousin, what bee has flown into your bonnet?" Andrea's smiling face appears in my vision, and I realize that I've been sitting absent-mindedly with my teacup in my armchair for more than a few minutes.

Of course. Andrea.

"I – I'm troubled. A bit. I'll be okay, though."

"Does this 'troubled' have to do with a gorgeous tall boy with platinum hair and a nice wardrobe?" She winks at me and sits on the arm of my chair.

"Yes," I sigh, deciding not to lie. "And Ron."

"Ooh, Ron? That boy you liked? Is it a love triangle? Tell me all the dirty details!" I smile weakly at her, and place my tea on the coffee table.

"You really want to know?"

"'Course! I'm here to listen."

"Can we go for a walk? It may take a while," I laugh meekly. "I also don't really want mum to hear everything."

She giggles excitedly. "Yes, yes, yes! Where'd you want to go?"

"To Lenora's Bakery," I say automatically. I want to go at some point and I could use a pick me up cupcake.

"All right, you can show me the way. Let me get my purse and I'll tell your Mom, don't worry I'll leave the part out about us boy discussing. I know she's want in on it." She winks at me and saunters into the kitchen.

I stand up stretching and murmur a thanks, then go walk to the front room to grab my coat. I can't believe I'm going to do this.

Where am I even going to begin?

I stand in front of the Parkinson estate in Somerset, pondering why the hell I decided to come here at all.

But I need to know if she's here, Pansy, or if she's moved on forever. I slowly meander up to the gated doors, and clutch the bars of the fence, looking into the great black house. A huge stone wall surrounds everything but the entrance. I haven't been here in months upon months.

The lawn looks manicured, and there's a light on. The flowers are staring to bud, and I can see faint movement and shadow in the picture window to their parlour.

What the fuck?

"State your purpose." I nearly jump out of my skin at a mysterious, distant voice, but comply with its wishes.

"I-I'm here to see Pansy."

Almost a minute passes by.

"State your name."

"Draco Malfoy." I reply, narrowing my eyes slightly at this strange and mysterious addition to security.

Another minute.

"The lady has allowed you entry. Hold out your wand, Draco Malfoy."

"…..Where?"

"Up here, fool."

I look up and a great grey gargoyle that is perched on the side of the wall is looking at me as if animated. I feign confidence and hesitantly take out my wand, pointing it to the statue. In one quick movement it grabs the wand with its mouth and gobbles it up, horrifying me.

"Hey!"

The gate swings open.

"You may proceed, Draco Malfoy. Visitors must be unarmed and prove their Wizarding status to enter the Parkinson household. They may return it to you inside, or when you depart."

"It wasn't so security filled last time I was here," I mumble.

"Desperate times called for desperate measures," it states stonily.

I guess it's right.

But quite frankly, I'm feeling a little insane. I'm visiting my ex-whatever to stay the night.

This is not going to go well.