Here's chapter 15!

We're going to start seeing an increase in action soon. What I want to do, however, is deal with one issue (either Pansy or Ron) before the other. Want to know who gets pawned first? Keep reading!

Note: sorry for taking a bit to post this. I went through some very emotional and personal problems recently and had just lost the feeling of joy I normally feel while writing. Fortunately, things are a lot better now, so I'm glad.

Note: if you want, try reading the part where Ron and Hermione, well, do the usual, while listening to Christina Aguilera's "You Lost Me," which is where I got the title of the chapter from. "Fix You" by Coldplay, was the main song I listened to while writing out the bit at the very end and I found it went relatively well.

Extra little side-note: I may make a few quick changes to the Ron-Hermione scene. We shall see. Also, may be a few typos here or there, didn't get a chance to thoroughly look and I also accidentally clicked 'change' at one point when I meant for 'ignore' on spell check and can't remember for the life of me what it was. Haha.

Warning: lots of rage.

Chapter 15

You Lost Me

"Frendo!"

An arm fell to the floor with a clang, the dummy rocking back and forth on its springs from the forth of the attack. The socket where its shoulder once was had been crushed, a ball of plastic and fake flesh that look disturbingly painful.

Grinning cruelly, Pansy spun around, twirling her wand in the direction of another dummy, successfully splitting open its arm, exposing its hollow exterior. If it had happened to any human being, it would have cut right through to the bone and possibly through the bone itself if it were powerful enough.

Her smile widened as she continued to move around, casting curse after curse, spell after spell, at any and all of the dummies that rose up to attempt to cease her efforts. On the other side of the Room of Requirement, Daphne, Astoria, and Maryse were seated on a couch, watching with either smiles or shock and worry. Astoria was on the edge of her seat, hands gripping her knees as a smile remained permanently plastered on her face, a cruel, and malicious grin that twisted her looks. Daphne and Maryse exchanged a small look behind Astoria's back, each knowing that Pansy was taking this way too far.

"Did you see that? Completely crushed the chest. Now, I bet that goodie-two-shoes Granger doesn't know how to stop that!" Astoria gushed as Pansy continued to cast.

Maryse and Daphne nodded, more just to avoid confrontation rather than in actual agreement. While Maryse wasn't too sure that Hermione could block it, Daphne was fairly certain that the Gryffindor was quite capable and able to block just about any spell sent her way. She was, after all, the brightest witch her age and had helped in the defeat of the Dark Lord. Rumours said that she had even killed Lucius Malfoy. Now that was a terrifying thought. If someone had been able to kill the senior Malfoy, then they could easily take on a passionate, yet weak caster like Pansy.

Daphne let out a quiet sigh, gently rubbing her face, careful to avoid her mascara. She was getting tired of Pansy's antics and really wished that the girl could see just how silly she was being. She was exaggerating things, pretending that the situation was far worse than it actually was, and she was taking this way too far. She didn't need any spells to stop anything; Daphne was fairly certain that Draco was more than willing to spend time with Granger. All Pansy needed to do was talk to Draco, although it didn't seem likely that it was going to happen any time soon.

Pansy suddenly came running over, face flushed; sweat beading on her brow, with that smile always on her face.

"Did you guys see that?" she squealed, a little skip to her step. "Did you see it? Aren't I amazing?"

Maryse and Daphne quietly nodded while Astoria began gushing about how much she adored Pansy and wished to be like her, telling the girl that Granger did not stand a chance. Daphne was still fairly certain that her little sister was growing as delusional as Pansy was.

"You two aren't saying anything."

Looking up, the other two simply shrugged. "There isn't much to say," Maryse began softly with a small smile that didn't meet her eyes. "You are a wonderful witch and those spells are certainly powerful and good enough to stop Granger in her tracks."

Nodding, as though to say 'I know,' Pansy turned to face Daphne, her expression telling the girl that she demanded praise.

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Daphne cracked a couple knuckles instead out of habit. "Maryse is right, those spells certainly are powerful. But…are they necessary?"

"What do you mean? Of course they are necessary! I need to get that Gryffindor bitch off of my man, no matter what!"

Massaging her temples, Daphne exhaled softly. "What I mean is, have you tried other methods first? How about you just try talking to him. Not arguing, just plain talking, without insulting anyone. You might be able to get the gist of things through that alone."

"But," Astoria piped up, "if he is under some kind of spell, we can't take what he says as the whole truth!"

"Then steal and use some Veritaserum," Maryse suggested.

"It is a safer method, although not necessarily something I approve of," Daphne added. "You just have to make sure he doesn't know he's taking Veritaserum."

Tapping a finger on the tip of her chin, Pansy paused for a moment, considering the idea and weighing the pros and cons of it. The problem was, if Draco found out she had snuck him Veritaserum, he might not talk to her again unless she convinces him that she did it for the greater good. She was fairly good at convincing people…

"I suppose it's worth a try," Pansy said after a moment.

Daphne resisted the urge to sigh in relief; she was glad that Pansy at least considered a non-violent method of figuring things out. At least with Veritaserum, he would be able to lie, despite whatever compulsions or spells Granger would have put on him. Although Daphne was always doubtful that Hermione had even considered putting some kind of spell on Draco; she just didn't seem like that type of person. She was too rule abiding.

"How do we go about stealing Veritaserum?"

Daphne turned to face her sister, answering softly, "Leave that up to me." She then got up and made her way out of the room, ignoring the mass of limbs and broken dummies that lay on the floor a few feet away. She wanted to any such scenario as much as possible. She couldn't let Pansy take this too far; she didn't care about Pansy getting in trouble, she just didn't want to live with the guilt.

He reclined on the couch, draped over it like some sort of human blanket, body relaxed, eyes shut as he basked in this moment of silence and relaxation. With the amount of school work they had recently piled on, he hadn't had a moment's rest, and now that all of his essays were handed in, all of the parchment tucked away, and the books stacked neatly on his shelves once more, he revelled in this moment of de-stress.

It was nice to spend a Sunday afternoon resting and relaxing rather than getting up early, heading to the library, and then returning with pile upon pile of books in hand.

Hearing a door gently close from up the stairs, he cracked open his eyes and watched as Hermione made her way down the stairs, a neatly wrapped package in her hands.

"So, what did you end up getting Weaselbee?" he asked.

Hermione eyed him briefly on the couch, wishing that she could join him. Unfortunately for her, that wouldn't happen until after she gave Ron his gift and avoided his touches and listened to his delusional words. Who knew how long that would take.

"A new set of Keeper gloves with a gift certificate to the Quidditch supply shop in Hogsmeade. I thought he could use it next time he heads into the village," she answered, placing the gift on the table to slide into her shoes.

He didn't bother to sit up, although a part of him wished to see her bent over her shoes, flashing him her pretty little underwear that covered one of his favourite parts of her. He was just too lazy at the moment, so he basked in the glow of memories instead. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"I'll be fine." She stood up, picking back up the gift. She hoped that Ron liked it; she knew that he had needed new Keeper gloves for some time, had heard him complain of it often enough when she used to had a small crush on him. Now was a good opportunity to get him something he wanted, let him know that she listened, but not have him expect too much out of her. Something basic, nice, and gift that was more brother-sister in appearance than girlfriend-boyfriend.

"Last time you two got together," Draco began, sitting up this time to lean on the back of the couch, feeling as though he needed some support for his blessedly limp body, "you fell down several stories and got hurt." His eyes belied his body, while he appeared nicely relaxed, his eyes were dark and stony; grey storm clouds that whispered rage and anxiety.

She let out a soft sigh and glanced over in his direction, having slipped on her shoes. "I will be fine; Harry and Ginny will be there, too, so it isn't like we will be alone. He won't do anything; I'm certain he regrets what happened."

"Hopefully not so much that he tries doing something else he'll regret," Draco said softly, eyes hardening with rage as he looked down at his lap.

"Did you say something?"

He glanced back to her, watching as she tucked a stray strand behind her ear, curiosity etched gently into her features. He loved that look, the doe-eyed expression on her face as she yearned to find something out. Of course, just because the expression made his groin tight didn't mean that he was going to immediately respond.

"I just said," he answered, "that Weasel better not do something he'll regret."

The look in his eyes, the raw fear combined with worry and unadulterated love, it told her more than any of his words ever had. Moving over, she reached down and gently cupped his cheek, tilting his head back so he was staring up at her with his always-talking eyes. "Draco," she sighed softly, "I think he's doing enough regrettable things as it is. You don't have to worry, I will be in control. I promise."

He couldn't help but smile and let out a soft chuckle, eyes glowing ever so softly in the light. "You know, before all of this shit started, you would've just yelled at me, called me an annoying prat and stormed out."

"Well," she reached down and pressed her lips gently against his, "you are an annoying prat."

Gripping her wrist, he yanked her back down, deepening the kiss just briefly, long enough to make her heart hammer wildly in her chest and her body to tighten with need, before pulling away. He watched her lips part, breath quietly but quickly exhaling as she tried to ease her breathing. He loved making her squirm, loved the way her cheeks flushed just slightly whenever they touched, and loved the way his touch alone could make her go crazy with need.

Most importantly, he loved the look of love in her eyes when she stared at him. It was the one reason he refused to let Weasley gain the upper hand and vowed to make sure that the redhead would pay if he ever laid a finger on her again.

When his tongue darted out to play along her lips, she let out a soft, sultry laugh before gently pulling away. "Sorry Draco, but I do have a schedule to follow."

He couldn't help it; he pouted in disappointment. He had been hoping to distract her, to get her naked and on top of him again in order to avoid her meeting with the Weasel. It was just too bad that he had chosen a woman as equally stubborn and intelligent as him.

Alright, he hated to admit it, but she was smarter than him. But not by much. Only by a little bit. Very little bit.

She moved away, gathered the gift, and adjusted her sweater; it was still frigid in the castle even though it was March and the snow was melting faster with each passing day. "I'll be fine, Draco," she said, reading his look rather than listening to him rant again. She knew that he didn't want her getting hurt again, knew that he wanted her to be as careful as possible, and she knew that if Ron did anything stupid like that again, Draco would kill him.

This possessive side of Draco should have irritated her, she thought as she pressed another kiss goodbye and left the Tower, but instead it made her body hot and needy. She should hate the possession, she was one who wanted to stand strong and proud, to remain completely autonomous and not rely on somebody else. But the way he watched her, the way his eyes darkened with dominance, it made her way to do things that would've have made her blush in the past.

Now, she felt grateful that the halls were empty and cold; the cool air would help ease the warm blush from her face and chase away the hot need beginning to course through her veins. She couldn't possibly arrive at the meet spot like this; she needed her body to calm down.

When she stepped into an empty classroom near the Room of Requirement, location most likely chosen by Ron who was probably hoping she would lead him next door for some 'fun' time, she was pleasantly at ease and had completely calmed down from her earlier state.

Gripping the wrapped gift in her hands, she glanced around the corridor before opening the door and stepping into the room. It was a rarely used classroom, perhaps because the teachers didn't want the students finding the Room of Requirement for purposes other than educational, and the desks were piled in one corner, the chairs in another, all covered in a small layer of dust. However, in the center of the room was a small table of sorts set up with four chairs around it. On the table was a relatively good sized chocolate cake she knew that Molly had baked for Ron.

Sitting down already were Harry and Ginny and she was pleased to note that Ginny was seated beside her brother; however, it meant that she would be facing Ron. At least she wouldn't be stuck beside him.

Smiling, she walked up to the table and placed the gift next to Harry's before sitting down in the empty chair. "Happy Birthday Ron," she said, still smiling.

He was grinning, a simple, boyish grin that made her smile inwardly. It was a smile of someone who was on top of the world, no hint of insanity in his eyes, no look or expression of unhealthy obsession in his face. He had the look of a man on his birthday that seemed to be getting every gift he wanted.

"So," she said, looking around at the other three. "How are you? I know I haven't been able to see you guys much lately; I've been very busy with homework and Head duties."

Ron seemed to buy it; he gave a look of understanding before opening his mouth to speak; "I've been busy with homework too." She partially didn't believe him, mainly because in the past, he never once did his homework without her help, but she wasn't about to say that out loud.

Ginny nodded in agreement and Harry smiled. "Are you going to come to our first Quidditch game after winter? It's next Sunday."

She gave him a look of surprise, she knew that Quidditch started up again sometime in March, but she never really realized just how early it started up again. "Who is it against?"

"Slytherin." Ron hissed the words, as though the very thought of that House caused him some kind of pain.

Her stomach fell; if they were playing Slytherin, then that meant that Draco would want her to cheer him on. She wanted to, desperately wanted to cheer him on, but it would be incredibly difficult to do so when she was first and foremost a Gryffindor, and secondly, supposed to be keep her relationship with him under wraps.

This was going to be a little issue.

Instead, for now, she decided to focus on the present. Once the song was sung and the cake half eaten, the group decided it was time to pass around their gifts. Harry and Ginny had gotten Ron some more Chudley Cannon's stuff, a sweater and a few collector's items that Hermione knew Harry had paid for.

Ron watched her with expectation as she pushed her gift towards him. It was the first inkling that something wasn't clicking right in his brain; the look was possessive, but not the same kind as Draco's. Draco's was hot, sensual, and erotic, it was a look that told her he would fight for her, that she was his and he would always be hers. The look in Ron's eyes, however, was raw possession. A look that said she was his, only his, and that no matter what she said or did, it would have no impact on it. In his mind, they were fated to be together.

In Draco's mind, fate had nothing to do with it.

He slowly unwrapped the present, taking his sweet precious time, as though he had been waiting for this for the longest time. She watched him, knowing that he would have a look of disappointment on his face the second he opened the box and did not find some kind of lingerie or dirty note of sorts. She knew that he wanted her to gift him with her eternal love, but it just wasn't going to happen.

The disappointment came quickly when he found the gloves and the gift certificate; she was expecting it, knew that the expression was definitely going to find its way across Ron's face, but the look still hurt in spite of her mental preparations.

It bothered her that he was so disappointed; a part of her was furious and insulted; the prat should be grateful she even gave him a gift at all. Hell, it only reminded her that Draco was right; considering the way he'd been acting lately, he probably didn't deserve it. But he was still her friend and she still cared for and loved him like a brother, so in spite of his actions, out of love for him, she got him a gift.

Now all he could do was stare at it with scowling eyes and a frowning face, as though he had been expecting a diamond encrusted broom made of the finest gold.

Another part, however, was almost fearful. What had he been expecting, exactly, as a gift from her? Had he really wanted her to pop out of a box naked, proclaiming her love and need for him? Or had he been hoping for some racy lingerie set she would offer to model for him later that evening? Both scenarios, along with others of the same nature, made her stomach twist with nausea.

The only person she would ever do that for was Draco, although even for him, she wouldn't jump out of a cake naked. It was just tasteless, albeit funny to watch.

So, she was less surprised when she heard Ron's, "Oh…thanks," when he pushed the gift aside, the scowling expression ever present on his face.

Next to her, Harry exchanged a glance with Ginny, as though he too had been expecting it, but had not been expecting such an overly childish reaction. Disappointment, yes, they knew it was going to happen, but the expression of a five-year-old not receiving the G.I. Joe he wanted for his birthday…that was something they hadn't anticipated.

"Those are very nice Keeper gloves," Ginny said lightly, as though to try to show how thoughtful the gift was. "Aren't they the newest ones available?"

Catching on quickly, Hermione smiled slightly. "Yes, they are. I had to order them ahead of time; made of really nice dragon leather, top of line. I got a bit lucky; they were having a sale for students at the Quidditch supplies store in Hogsmeade, so they weren't as expensive."

"How much is the gift certificate for?" Harry asked, trying to get Ron to speak up about his gifts.

"50 Galleons," Ron answered quietly, barely glancing at the paper.

"Well," Ginny huffed lightly, "I think it's a nice gift, Hermione."

Her grin stayed in place and she shifted in her seat for comfort. "Thank you, Gin." Suddenly, an awkward silence fell over the room. It was strange, having this little gathering in silence. Normally, they would be talking avidly about a whole slew of things, now; instead, the threesome spent their time watching and examining Ron's actions as he stared glumly at his plate. They wanted to talk, wanted to laugh and have fun, but it was difficult to do so with Ron and his ever-changing moods. They had, also, grown apart slightly in the past while. However, Hermione knew that it wouldn't stop them from catching up. She really hated to admit it, but it was Ron, plain and simple, that caused such awkward silences.

Clearing her throat, she plastered the smile back to her face and turned to look at Ron. "So, what else did you get for your birthday?"

He glanced up at her and a strange expression crossed his face, something she just couldn't pinpoint. It was unknown, peculiar, and something she had never seen before in her entire life. It was somewhat a cross between desire, disappointment, and annoyance with something else added into the mix.

It confused her, to say the least.

"Oh, the usual," he answered, still keeping eye contact with her, "mum and dad sent me a sweater and sweets, Hagrid also gave me some treats, it was the usual."

She really didn't like the tone of his voice; it was slowly making her hackles rise and her frustration to boil up. Honestly, couldn't he be grateful for one bloody thing? Instead, he talked about his gifts like he expected the whole world and received a pile of shit in return. Was her gift so bad that he had to talk about the others in a demeaning manner as well?

"Ron," she suddenly said, voice sharper than she intended it to be.

He glanced up at her only to look back down at his empty plate, staring at the chocolate crumbs with a sulking expression.

"Oh, you're such a prat," she snapped. "We bloody well work our arses off to get you some nice birthday presents, we spend our money on your because we care about, your mum works her bloody butt off making you a sweater and sweets, and all you can do is sulk like a child?"

Harry glanced over to her, eyes wide with shock. He knew that what Ron was doing was rude, but he hadn't thought that it bothered Hermione so much. "Hermione," he began softly yet with a warning tone, stopping when she sent him a sharp look.

His expression quickly changed from glum to dark and angry, eyes flashing with anger. "Well, maybe if people got me what I bloody well wanted, then I wouldn't be so disappointed then."

Harry placed a hand on her arm, as if attempting to placate her and stop her from snapping, but she was growing far too annoyed right now. Maybe it was because of her lack of sleep, maybe it was because of this particular time of the month, or maybe it was because she was in love with a man who was grateful for every little thing he received, but she was angry at Ron's reaction and wasn't about to back down just yet.

Harry tried to say her name again, try to get her to cam down, yet she just shrugged off his touch and sent another glare his way. He knew then that she needed this; the circles under her eyes were pronounced, the tension in her body obvious, and he knew, somehow, that she had been keeping this rant hidden from the rest of world. This anger, this frustration, it had gotten to the boiling point and she needed to find a way to release it. As much as it frustrated him to watch Ron get chewed out, he knew that Hermione needed to do this. He just hoped Ginny would understand.

"What you wanted? You're lucky you got anything at all, with the way you've been acting lately," she said sharply. "And what exactly did the Almighty Ronald Weasley think he deserved to get on his birthday?"

Ron's fist banged down on the table, causing Ginny to jump in surprise. She slowly moved her chair away from her brother, as though fearful he might lash out at her unintentionally. She wanted to calm him down, wanted to bring back the brother she used to know, but she knew that right now, it wasn't going to happen. She wanted to be angry with Hermione for causing this, wanted to shout at her friend, but she too had been growing frustrated at Ron's sudden mood. It was insulting. There was also this little part of her, distant and hidden beyond the irritation, that maybe this is what Ron needed to get a reality check and go back into his old self.

She could always hope.

"You were supposed to declare your love for me!" he shouted. "You were supposed to show up, not give me anything, and then wait for us to be alone and we were supposed to…supposed to…" he broke off, face flushing with embarrassment.

Her cheeks blushed with anger. "I've told you already, it's too late. You missed your chance, so stop pining for something you can't and won't get. You took me for granted for far too long, Ron. You're a brother to me and nothing more, maybe less now given the way you've been treating me lately. I'm not some bitch who will fall in love with you on some whim, I'm a human being who wanted to be treated like a human being. Instead, you treated me like a bloody dictionary or answer key for so long I got fed up of waiting."

"We're soulmates!" he banged his fist on the table a second time and his plate went flying to the ground, crumbs sprinkling all over the dusty floor.

"We are not," she said calmly, eyes ablaze. "We are far from soulmates. I told you, you lost your chance a year ago and you've ruined any others in the past few months. What makes you think I'd even consider dating you given the way you've been acting recently? And now this! Being an ungrateful prick after all of this work these people have done getting you gifts. I can't possibly be with someone as ungrateful as you are!"

"Who then?" he snapped, swinging his arm violently, sending the box of gifts flying to land unceremoniously beside the crumbs. "Who is good for you? Malfoy?"

"Who said anything about Malfoy?"

"He…He attacked me in the hall yesterday, threatening me and telling me not to touch you again!" Ron shouted, knowing full well that he was lying about the events. "He just came out of nowhere, said he would kill me! He tried to use an Unforgivable on me!"

She jerked back, pushing away at the anger to try and find some sense in his words. Draco was protective, yes, but she never thought that he would be the one searching for trouble. A part of her believe Ron, the part that still didn't completely understand and know Draco, and yet another part refused to believe his words. It just didn't seem like him. In spite of his history, even though he used to enjoy finding and creating trouble, she knew that Draco had matured into an intelligent man who wanted to avoid trouble as much as possible. He wanted to create a clean slate; chasing after Ron and causing fights in the halls would only further tarnish his cleaner reputation. She also knew how Draco felt about the Unforgivable Curses.

When she saw the redhead's eyes dilate and his ears grow red, she knew for certain that he wasn't telling the whole truth.

"Liar," she hissed.

"I…I'm not lying!"

"Yes you are," she snarled. "I can tell when you lie, it's so obvious. You just want me to get angry at someone else and forget about what you've said and done." Slowly, she stood up, looking down at her friend, perhaps ex-friend. "I can't. You've been such an ungrateful prat lately and I'm sick and tired of it. All you do is look down on everything and everyone, you won't let anyone near you, you ignore their efforts to make you happy and see you smile. You're not the Ronald Weasley I once knew and loved. Not anymore."

His face blushed a vivid vermilion and she watched as his hands clenched and unclenched into tight fists, as though they ached to be wrapped around her throat, squeezing the life out of her.

"I'm still the same person," he snapped. "You're the one who's changed. You never spend time with us anymore, you never help me with my homework, you barely even speak to me. You're the one who's different, Hermione. Not me. You did this yourself."

Harry had moved to stand to and Hermione saw his hand sneak into his pocket, knowing that he was getting prepared in case Ron – or even she – did something that he would regret. He didn't want it to come down to violence, but Harry couldn't put it past Ron to try something stupid. Again.

Ginny, all the while, stared white-faced at the arguing duo. She had never actually seen such a volatile fight before, never once witnessed the reason behind Hermione's moving away from them. Now, she could only gaze at her brother with fear and confusion. Who was this man that was once her brother? What had happened to him? She knew that he had changed, but she had never seen such rage in his eyes before. When had it gotten so extreme? She thought he had been merely delusional but this…this wasn't even her brother anymore.

Taking in a slow deep breath, Hermione calmed herself, clearing her mind and relaxing her body. She was getting sick and tired of these fights with Ron; that was the main reason why she had nothing to do with him anymore. She needed to end it, needed to clarify things for the git and make him understand why she couldn't stand to be in the same room as him anymore. It hurt her to do it, but she knew that now, she had no choice.

"Ron, why do you think I never spend time with you anymore? Have you ever considered that maybe something you're doing is pushing me away? That's exactly what's happened," she answered coldly, needing a change in voice, a change in tone and atmosphere to smooth the fiery rage boiling over. "You pushed me away Ron, You and your words, your actions…every little thing you've said and done in the past few months have pushed me away. I got tired of your obsessive behaviour, I'm fed up of the fighting, and I'm certainly sick and tired of being told who I love and who I should belong with.. I'm my own woman, I make my own decisions, and I'm not going to stick around anymore to listen to a delusional twat rule my life. You're the reason behind this. You lost me, just as I've lost the friend I once loved." She couldn't help it anymore, the words, the realization that struck her blind as she spoke them, caused tears to well up in her eyes and threaten to overflow. Her cheeks were hot with rage and despair; she lost her friend. Had truly, utterly and completely lost the man she once and briefly loved.

He stared at her open-mouthed, as though the words had struck a chord deep within his soul. He heard the words, knew their meaning, but a part of him refused to acknowledge them as the truth. It hurt too much.

Pressing his face into his hands, he dug his nails into his skin, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to make some sense. She…she had to be lying. That was the only way. She was lying to him, not telling the truth…omitting things or exaggerating. It just…it just didn't make any sense. It couldn't make sense.

Maybe she was playing hard to get…she was taking it too far, but maybe that was it. Maybe, she wanted to get him angry and then they would shag mercilessly in the Room of Requirement. Maybe she liked it like that, nice and rough.

Yeah…that made sense. She was a masochistic little bitch, wanted him to teach her a lesson. He would…he would show her what a real man was like. He would make her his bitch.

He couldn't fight back the grin that crawled over his face.

You lost me.

The smile faded as quickly as it came; no…no, no, no. He couldn't have lost her. It was impossible. The words, they hurt. They hurt so much. He didn't lose her, never lost her. Right? Right. It was impossible.

He didn't lose her. Couldn't have lost her.

Right?

With a guttural shout, he stood up, sending the table crashing over onto the ground with his hands. He wanted to lunge at her, wanted to take her throat in his hands and crush it until the life faded from her eyes. He couldn't…he wouldn't…not yet. He had…had to make her his.

"You're a bitch," he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth. Insanity had claimed him, his eyes were storms caught under a plastic shield, a fog or a glaze covering them, preventing them from seeing anything but his all-consuming rage and nonsensical thoughts. "You're nothing but a stupid little bitch. Stop playing fucking hard to get and just tell me the truth. I know you want me, I know you want me to fuck you like the whore you are. Just fucking say it already and I'll do it right here and right now." He took a step forward, crushing the card she had gotten him with his foot. "Come on, Hermione, just say it. Just tell me you want me; I know you do. You're such a filthy whore."

Ginny's chair clattered to the floor as she stood in shock, eyes wide and fearful of her brother. He wasn't the same…he needed help…he really did need help…

How? How could this have happened? How could they have not seen just how far gone he was? How could they have been so blinded by their love and compassion for him?

Harry moved, as though ready to position his body between the quarreling twosome, but Hermione moved quickly first, pushing him out of the way.

Smack!

Ron jerked back violently as the palm of her hand made contact with his face, leaving a burning, red mark on his cheek.

The tears overflowed freely now, scalding her hot cheeks, sliding down her throat to moisten the material of her shirt. "You bastard," she choked out. "You bloody bastard. How could you? We used to be best friends! We loved each other! And now…now you're calling me those foul names! I never really said anything at all lately, never once said anything bad to you. I just wanted you to turn back into your old self. Well, you know what? Fuck you Ron. I'm tired of this, I can't stand it. I…I don't want you in my life at all anymore. I'm fed up." Turning around, hands clenched tightly at her sides, she swallowed thickly. "Goodbye Ron. Take some time alone to think; maybe it'll clear your mind. But I won't have anything to do with you anymore until you change."

She moved to the door and he was too shocked and hurt to stop her, to even think of stopping her. She had crushed his heart right before his very eyes, had torn it out of his chest and had ripped it to shreds while callously laughing at him.

It hurt.

"Happy birthday Ron," she said softly as she reached the door before slipping out of the room and out of his grasp.

Heaving loud, heavy breaths, Ron felt tears sliding down his cheeks, burning and angry. His heart ached and hammered furiously against his ribs and his chest felt tight, as though he just couldn't get enough air into his lungs.

It hurt.

It hurt so much.

No…

No, no, no, no….no!

She couldn't walk out, just couldn't. They were soulmates, they were meant to be together. She just smacked him because she liked it rough.

That's all.

Mustering up enough courage, even though a little part of his brain told him not to do it, he inhaled deeply and shouted, "You'll be back! We're meant to be together, bitch! You'll be fucking back!"

It was silent; he lounged comfortably on the couch, enjoying the sound of silence occasionally broken by the crackling flames on the hearth. From time to time, a soft swish would sound out as he turned the page, eyes trained on the text scrawling over the pages. He waited as such, in soothing yet tense silence, hoping for her to return sooner rather than later, and in a better mood than he thought she would be in.

He shifted slightly, tucking one arm under his head as a pillow while the other held the book to his face. It was quite an enjoyable story, actually. It wasn't one of those fancy, frilly, girly romances Hermione seemed so embarrassed to be enthralled in, no, it was a man's book, of warriors, assassins, war, and death, with the faintest undertone of romance.

A real manly man's book for the manliest of all manly men, Draco Malfoy.

He was chuckling to himself over his thoughts as the door swung open and he didn't need to look up to know it was Hermione; her scent immediately permeated his senses, blossoming flowers and rainfall.

"How did it go with the Weasel?"

He heard her take off her shoes, listened that they thudded against the carpeted floor. "Fine."

The hairs on his neck stood on end at the tone of her voice and his eyes immediately hardened, drawn away from the book and to her silhouette, body half-cast in shadows from the faint embers and fading sunlight. Her head was down, curls wild and hiding her face from his view. Her body was stiff, arms tense at her sides, and his suspicions were solidified.

Something had happened.

"Hermione…?" He didn't want to press her, didn't want her to recoil and hide back within her shell. "What did Weaselbee…say about your gift?" he wanted to say do, but knew that it might be too much. He went for an alternative, something that might, eventually, lead the topic of conversation towards what had happened.

She didn't answer, only stood there, looking at her feet, hair swinging softly around her face from a slight shift in stance.

Sitting up, putting his book down on the table, he found himself suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to protect and harm. Never before had he seen her in such a state, he has seen her rant and rave, cry and despair, laugh and smile, but never had he seen a body looking so…forlorn and broken, like a piece of her soul had been permanently shattered. His body tensed; he wanted to find Weasel and rip the redhead apart, molecule by molecule. He wanted to make that little, insufferable prat suffer for making her suffer, wanted to have him begging and crying for mercy. He wanted to make that bastard pay.

Yet at the same time, he wanted to move over to Hermione an engulf her in his arms, hold her tightly in his embrace as she cried out all the woes of the world, as she yelled about all of the frustrations in the galaxy, and laughed with all of the joy in the Universe.

All he could do, however, was sit and watch her, sit and wait for her to react on her own. She needed that; it would help her find some sense of closure, it would help her find the pieces and slowly put them back together.

"Hermione," he said softly, slowly getting up, moving to stand against the back of the couch, ready if she needed him.

"You were right." Her words were mumbled and choked, as though she had a difficult time merely processing them.

About what?

The words hung unspoken in the air and she felt further compelled to answer them.

"You were right," she repeated softly, still watching her feet. "You were right about…about…" her hand moved up, brushing against her cheek, "about Ron."

His heart wrenched painfully; she was crying. She was crying and didn't want him to know, didn't want him to worry. He wanted to trap her in his arms and protect her from all of the world's pains and troubles. Wanted to hold her for all eternity and keep her smiling and happy, to take away all of the aching pain and lonely despair in her heart.

"He was," she began, "such a prat. He…he didn't like anything we got him, said that we didn't get him what he wanted. Then he…he spewed the same…shit…that he's been saying for the past few months." She quietly described what Ron had expected as a gift, and Draco's muscles tightened with barely restrained rage. He wanted to find the bastard and pummel his face in unable no one would recognize him again. "So," she continued, interrupting his thoughts, "I…I yelled at him. Told him he was being a selfish prat, put him in his place, I suppose."

His heart ached for the pain in her voice.

Slowly, she lifted her head and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her swollen eyes, hot tears flowing freely down her burning cheeks. Her lips quivered mercilessly, as though unable to push back the pain overwhelming her body, as though she was fighting the urge to scream and cry.

"You were right…he…he's really not the same anymore. There…there's something wrong with him. I tried not to see it, tried so hard to see the same Ron I've always seen, but now…now it's painfully clear." The sobs were quiet, barely audible, but there nonetheless, and it began to tear his heart to shreds. To see her so broken, so distraught…it hurt.

"I hoped that it was just a phase, that maybe he was going through a rough patch and things would get better. I was hoping that he would've been really happy with his gift; I know he always needed new gloves. But instead…instead he's become…broken. Something isn't right, he isn't the same Ron Weasley I cared about. He's…cruel and delusional…he's…Oh, Draco, it hurts." She looked at him, face contorting with each sob. "He used to be my friend, used to be so nice, so caring in spite of his faults, and now…now…he's not my friend anymore."

He moved then, striding forward to wrap his arms tightly around her trembling body as she sobbed freely, tears wetting his shirt, hands clutching at the material as though she clung on for dear life. He kept his arms tight, hands moving to rub her lower back in a soothing manner as he lowered his head to kiss her hair.

It hurt to watch her hurt, it made him want to cry, to scream, and to get revenge on the one who caused such pain. For now, all he could was hold her and soothe her, to give her the gentle touches and caresses that would ease away the pain. He knew no words of consolation; had never been taught any, and he knew that saying things would be okay would only succeed in ticking her off. So he held her as she cried her heart out, wishing he could do something that would alleviate the ache.

"I…I hate that you were right," she choked against his shirt, hiccoughing as she spoke. "I had hoped that…that you would be wrong, that there wasn't something wrong with him…I had hoped…"

He hushed her, the sound barely a whisper and he held her tighter, trying to siphon away all of the pain, to suck it into his body and give her nothing but joy.

All he could say was, "I'm sorry…"

"Light will guide you home, and ignited your bones, and I will try to fix you." – Coldplay; "Fix You"

So there we go. This chapter is complete and hot damn, what an emotional roller coaster!

I have to say, it by chance that I started listening to "Fix You" when writing the exchange between Hermione and Draco, and I found myself listening to it on repeat with one listen to "The Scientist" as well.

Little mini disclaimer: "Fix You" belongs to Coldplay and I merely used one little section of their lyrics a little closing line, and not for any monetary benefits of any kind.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it.

Just to send a little spam, KittyRin made a wonderful video/trailer for Merry Christmas Mr. Malfoy. You can find it here: (dot)com/watch?v=Dhhtex7ABbA

Replace the (dot) with a . obviously, haha.

She worked really hard on it and I really like it, so please leave her a comment! ^.^

Thank you everyone for your patience and reviews. You guys are wonderful! Keep it up and I promise you, I will always be working in some way or another on a chapter for this or another fic.

Thanks everyone!

Take care,

Emerald-Kisses

Quick question: does anyone want a recipe at the end of the next chapter? Just curious. I have a few good fall-oriented/Halloween-oriented ones.