A/N: So I just realised that I forgot to put a disclaimer in the first chapter of this story, so here goes: I am not J. K. Rowling. I do not intend any copyright infrignement, and I appoligise if my story defaces her work. This plot is entirely my own, however it does take certain events from HBP to follow a somwhat similar arc. Now on to the story.

Chapter 4

Draco sighed as he made his way from the Qudditch changeroom. He had seriously considered dropping from the team that year. With all the stress from his mission, he wasn't sure that he would be able to keep up with the large amount of practices, fixing the cabinet, and on top of that, making sure that he didn't fall behind in any of his classes.

But he couldn't do that. Quidditch was his relief method. Whenever he had a lot on his mind, then he would go for a flight. At a couple hundred feet off the ground, he found that he was able to think clearly. So he knew that there was no way that he could drop the sport.

Though it didn't help how frustrated he felt every time that he played the Gryffindor. Because of Harry Bloody Potter, the Slytherins rarely won a single match. It irritated him, knowing that he was second best to the boy in anything. It was bad enough knowing that Mudblood Granger was the top of their year, but knowing that the Boy Who Refused to Die was a damn good seeker, was torture.

He wanted to hex something; anything to take out his frustrations. But he wasn't in the mood to put his house any further back in the House Cup running than they already were. So he settled for sending a tripping jinx at a first year Ravenclaw girl, causing her to fall and slightly tear her robes.

And as good as that made him feel, he had to admit that he felt slightly guilty about it.

Damn it, what was happening to him. First the other day he felt bad about calling Granger a mudblood, and now he felt guilty about tripping a girl. He was seriously losing his knack of making others feel pain. Next thing he knew, he would become some sort of muggle supporting filth.

'But would that really be so bad?' a voice inside him asked. It was a gentle voice, and Draco knew this one. It was the voice that he always pushed out of his mind in fear of what it would turn him into.

'Off course it would,' he scoffed, before tuning it out.

If there was one thing Draco wasn't, it was a muggle sympathizer.

Hermione shook her head as she watch the crowd in the Gryffindor Common House, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not help but keep the smile off of her face. She watched as Ron was lifted into the air, and felt a warm feeling spread throughout her upper body. The boy clearly loved being the centre of attention, something she knew he was deprived of due to the size of his family. She was so proud of his win in the game, especially once Harry had just confirmed that he did not use the Luck Potion a few moments back. Harry stood beside her with a wide smile on his face. While he may have been the captain of the team, he was more than happy to defer any attention to his friend.

Getting the attention from the crowd to fuel his courage, Ron started reciting the story of how he won. She could not help but think of how sweet he looked at that very moment. It had shocked her, the first time she started having feelings toward the boy. After all, they had never been the best of friends. But somewhere after fourth year, when she and Ron got closer due to her fear of Harry being in constant danger, she began to develop feelings for him. It was subtle at first; she had been with Viktor at the time, and began to feel immensly horrible over the fact that she could think about another man. Luckily for her, she and Viktor had drifted apart due to the distance between them once he returned back to his school.

But over time, the feelings started to grow, and the more it did, the more she and Ron began to argue. She knew that she shouldn't waste her time arguing with the boy, but trying to get him to see her as something more than a friend. After all, it had taken him until fourth year to realise that she was a girl. And even then, he hadn't seen her as anything more than a backup plan.

Though she had to admit, there was just something about him that made her want to argue with him, all the time. He pushed her buttons, as the muggles say, and he made her want to chuck him out of a window at times. But she was attracted to him, and she wanted him. So she would keep trying, not matter how hard it got.

Harry seemed to be smiling even wider now, if possible. She looked in his direction, and saw Lavendar Brown, her flirtatious roommate, making her way toward the boy Hermione had spent the last ten minutes staring at. She pulled his arm down from the crowd, and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her lips against his, and the crowd got wilder. He looked taken aback at first, but he wrapped his arms around the blonde's body and began to kiss her back.

Hermione felt as if her world was crashing down around her. Her chest began to tighten, and she felt the tears began to form in her eyes. She had to get out of there, before anyone saw her reaction and knew just how she was taking the news. She turned, and made her way straight out of the common room. She couldn't stand to be in the presence of anyone at the moment, but the situtation was clouding her judgement. She walked straight to her empty classroom, knowing that no one would be there at that moment of the night, due to the celebrations underway.

She held her head down, so that people passing by her in the halls wouldn't see her tear stained face. She made her way down a flight of stairs and threw open the doors to the classroom. It was her own personal place, somewhere that most of the students barely knew existed. She had taken to coming here back in third year. When Ron and Harry were fighting with her, and she needed to escape, she found this place. It was peaceful and allowed her a place to think without those around her watching and judging her every move. It was somewhere she could afford to be alone and afford to cry without worrying about who could see her.

"Avis," she whispered. She had found the spell after feeling lonely in her private area. So she had taken into conjouring up birds from thin air. They provided her with a sense of company, but nothing that would judge her, or say anything.

She felt so stupid. How could she fall for Ron, when there was no way that he would ever like her back? He was Ron Weasley, the boy who only cared how pretty a girl was, rather than whether she had a personality. She hated to admit it, but Ron could be a pig in more than one way. And if there was one thing Lavender Brown was, it was pretty. She was easily one of the most gorgeous girls in their House, so it was no wonder that Ron was happily kissing her back. Compared to plain Hermione, with her messy hair, and simple face, Lavender might as well have been some sort of goddess.

"Hermione?" she heard a voice call out from behind her. She stiffened, as she heard the voice behind her. But upon seeing who the intruder was, she recognised it to be none other than Harry. She relaxed slightly as he took a seat beside her.

He sat there quietly. Wrapping his arm around her back, he pulled her close to him. She craddled her head in his chest and allowed the tears to fall more freely. He gave her silence, knowing it was what she wanted. He waited until she was ready to talk, and when she was, she began.

"How do you do it Harry?" she asked her friend softly.

"Do what?" The boy asked her, confused about what she could be referring to.

"I see the way you look at Ginny, Harry. You like her, and it kills you to see her with someone else. So how do you deal with it?" she asked, as she wiped the tears from her face.

He sighed knowingly, thinking about the obvious pain he felt on the matter. "It's really hard," he said, swallowing hard. "But I tell myself that if it's what's meant to happen, then it will. There's no point in rushing what should happen, and what shouldn't. If Ginny and I are meant to end up together, then we will. And that gives me hope."

"But what if it doesn't work out Harry?" she asked fearfully. "What if I'm left forever having feelings for him and he never feels the same way about me?"

"Then he's a fool," Harry growled. "Hermione, Ron would be lucky to have a girl like you, any one would."

Hermione was about to reply, and tell Harry her thanks for his support. She was about to reply to him and tell him that she was grateful for his friendship. But at that precise moment, the people she was trying to avoid stumbled into the room.

She watched as Ron and Lavender Brown rushed down, to her private place.

Seeing the position she and Harry were in, Lavender began giggling sheepishly, "I see that this place is already taken. Lets go Ron," she said, grabbing his arm.

"One sec," he said, smiling at her. As the blonde made her way away from the area, Hermione noticed an angry flash go through Ron's eyes as he watched the pair of them together.

"What's with the birds?" he asked, oblivious to Hermione's mood.

Looking back on the moment, Hermione knew that what she did next was in no way the brightest thing. But right then, she was far too angry to care about anything else. And seeing how Ron was there now, and with his eyes assessing the situation he though was occurring, and making his own assumptions. Hermione was too angry to be rational, so she stood up and did the first thing she could think of.

"Oppugno," she said simply, and the birds began to fly straight toward Ron. He ducked as they splattered upon the wall of the classroom, leaving a mess.

"You're bloody mad!" he screeched. "No wonder no one wants to be with you."

She felt a fresh set of tears sit in her eyes, but she blinked them away. There was no way that she would allow him to stand there and treat her like that.

"At least I'm not desperate enough to kiss whoever comes my way first!" she said in an undertone filled with resentment.

He rolled his eyes, "You're just angry that I kissed her," he rationalized. But before he could say another word, his beloved called out to him.

"Ronny-kins, are you coming?" Lavender asked him.

He glared at her one last time, and made his way from the room. Hermione collapsed in a pit of despair. The threatening tears had begun to fall, with no sign of stopping anytime soon. Harry, watching the entire situation, was seething.

"The bloody git!" he screamed murderously. He wrapped his arms around her protectively and brought her into a tight hug. She rested her head against his chest once more and began to cry freely one more.

Even though Ron was one of his best friends, Harry had long since taken his side simply because of it. He had learned the hard way that Ron is far too emotional, and isn't always right, despite what he thinks.

"I'm sorry Hermione," he whispered into his hair. "He completely deserved the birds, and more."

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to say anything beyond that. They sat in silence once more, avoiding conversation.

Draco watched as the Weasel pulled a girl into his arms. The two clearly thought no one could see them, and judging from what they were doing, he wished he didn't see them either.

But he felt slightly confused at the same time. Wasn't Weasel with Mudblood? Or was she with Pothead? Either way, he didn't care. He kept walking, wanting to go to his abandoned classroom. He had first found it early on in fourth year. It was abandoned, probably forgotten as well.

It was a hard year for him; while he never had the greatest family life, that year, his father had gotten more abusive. He kept saying how Draco wasn't prepared enough, and how he was a disappointment. His father kept saying that he needed to be whipped into shape before his return; whipped being the key word. He knew know that his father was referring to the Dark Lord, and he made it his goal to try and change Draco's complete attitude.

So he had needed to get away. At Hogwarts, Umbridge had taken a liking to him. He knew that he would have to do what she wanted to keep his family respectable; especially now that the Dark Lord had returned and wanted for no one to know of his existence. His housemates loved the new professor. She held and obvious favouritism toward the house and treated them like they were the best. And for that reason, he knew that he couldn't talk to any of them.

So he began going to his classroom. He had stumbled on it one day, completely by accident, and had taken a liking to it. So he continued going there, one year later, even when the Toad was gone.

He opened the door, as quietly as he could. The last thing he wanted was to alert Filch. As he walked door, he sensed something was off. Someone was in the room; in his room. He cast a disillusion charm on himself; not wanting anyone to see him there. More importantly, he wanted to know who was in the room he called his haven.

He saw Potter, and in his arms he was cuddling none other than the Mudblood. He felt rage flow through him. Draco told himself that he was angry that they were here, that they were in his room. But a part of him didn't buy the story that he was telling himself.

He watched as Harry nudged Hermione slightly.

"Hermione, I'm going to go back to the tower now. Are you coming with me?" he asked her softly.

She shook her head, "I'm going to stay here a little longer," she said.

Draco watched as Potter got up to leave. "Hermione?" he asked, trying to get his attention. When he saw that he had it, he continued, "Ron's an idiot okay. Don't let him get to you."

Draco watched carefully as he saw the girls tear struck face. So she was crying about Weasel, most likely over the fact that he was with Brown. Interesting.

Potter left the room, and Granger continued to stare at the wall in front of her.

"I know you're in here," she said softly.

Draco was stunned. His disillusion charm was near perfect. There was no way that she could know that someone was in the room.

"I may not know who you are, but you don't need to hide," she said once more.

He was tempted to leave. Why bother revealing himself to her? But something inside him decided against it.

He lifted the charm and walked over to her. "What are you doing in my classroom Granger?" he asked, attempting to sound snide. She looked so vulnerable, so fragile. She looked like she needed protection.

"What do you mean your classroom? I've been coming here since third year!" she said, arguing.

"Damn it," he swore. She had been coming there longer than he had.

She smirked at him, but it was only half-heartedly.

He sat down beside her, and she looked up at him surprised. "What are you doing here anyway Granger?" he asked her gently.

"I needed to get away," she said vaguely.

"From Weasley?" he prodded.

She looked at him, and he saw the suspicions flashing through her eyes. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," he said indifferently.

"Oh."

"So?"

"Yes," she said, sounding far away from where they were.

He could tell she wanted to change the subject.

"So what is it?" she asked him suddenly.

"What is what?" he asked confused.

"The task Voldemort has given you," she said simply.

"What makes you think that I'd tell someone like you?" he asked her.

"Because you look like you need to talk to someone about it," she said delicately.

"Well you thought wrong," he said icily.

She got up to leave. "Alright then."

"Where are you going?" he asked her curiously. It seemed unlike a Gryffindor not to push a subject.

"I can see you want to be alone," she said politely. She gave him a slight smile and walked out the door.

He watched, confused as the girl left him in the room. How was it that every time he came into contact with her, that he was left questioning everything that he had known and been taught? Every time they talked, he felt puzzled; everything around her was puzzling. Weren't muggles and mudbloods supposed to be beneath them? Weren't they supposed to be only worth the scum under her feet? So why was everything about her challenging that?

He resumed her previous activity of staring at the wall, as he attempted to make sense of her and everything that she was.