Disclaimer to JK Rowling

Chapter Thirteen: Does Truth Sound Bitter?

To-morrow we meet the same then, dearest?
May I take your hand in mine?
Mere friends are we,-well, friends the merest
Keep much that I resign:

Robert Browning from The Lost Mistress

A low whistle sounded around the grounds, and Draco could see one of the Beaters – Derrick or Bole – gesture downwards. Upon inspection, he could see that all the players were heading towards the ground. It seemed that one of the team captains had called for a time-out, and it was a small relief in an otherwise miserable game. Draco leaned forwards, his broom following his instruction quickly, and slowly descended. Once he was merely feet off the ground, he jumped off his broomstick and landed gently on the frozen grass. Draco rubbed his hands together, suddenly grateful that his sister had given him new dragonhide Quidditch gloves for Christmas, blowing warm air on his icy fingers. He only wished that his Quidditch kit was also made of it, or had better insulation. He had been freezing in the bitter January air.

At this rate, he was lucky if he could bend his fingers around a Snitch as they were frozen stiff.

Draco felt a shove to his shoulder, and as he looked to see who it had been, he saw Flint breathing down at him.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?"

Draco glared at his captain, recovering from the shove and stepped towards Flint, "What do you mean, what am I doing?"

"You know that Chang is an offensive player, and you are letting her be one," Flint growled. "Knock her off her broom if she gets in your way."

"That would be fouling," Draco said through gritted teeth. Seeing that Flint was not satisfied with that response, Draco added, "But I will find a way."

"Good," Flint replied. "Now I need to have a word with our Keeper."

"Why?"

Flint raised an eyebrow, as if to question Draco's insolence but sighed instead and said, "We are neck-and-neck with Ravenclaw."

Draco nodded curtly, "I will deal with Chang."

"Good," Flint repeated, before stomping over to their Keeper. Bletchley visibly paled as Flint stormed towards him. The rest of his teammates jumped out of Flint's way.

Draco stared across the pitch towards the Ravenclaw players. Chang was listening to the Ravenclaw captain, nodding as he spoke to her. You know that Chang is an offensive player. So far in the game, Chang had been less intrusive than she had been during the Hufflepuff game. She had kept her distance, but as soon as it seemed as if Draco was onto something, she was right in front of him and blocking his path. At one point, Draco was so absorbed in looking for the Snitch himself, he had not noticed when Chang dived for the Snitch. However, as Chang was forced to dodge a perfectly aimed Bludger, she soon lost track of it.

Draco was surprised that Flint had not pulled him up for that infraction.

Knock her off her broom if she gets in your way.

Draco knew all the rules of Quidditch, and he was almost certain that knocking someone off their broom would incur a penalty for his team, not that Flint particularly cared about breaking the rules. Draco also knew that sometimes the benefit of breaking the rules was so that the other team – namely, Gryffindors – lost their temper and therefore lost focus in the game. However, Ravenclaw was a house of level-headed people, who argued both sides of the argument rather than losing their temper. Knocking Chang off her broom would do little to knock her team's morale, so handing over a penalty to Ravenclaw did not seem like the brightest idea, especially if Bletchley carried on conceding goals.

They could lose focus if their own player committed a foul.

The idea came to Draco as the whistled sounded again, signalling play resuming, and Draco mounted his broom. It was so simple. Whilst it was true that Ravenclaws were innovators and regularly thought outside the box, they disliked the idea of breaking a rule without academic or philosophical merit. Breaking a Quidditch rule in particular would be considered brutish to them as it implied a sort of an unnecessary violence. Ravenclaws fought with their intelligence and wit, not their fists.

Chang is an offensive player.

Draco did not even have to turn around to know that Chang was tailing him, putting him on the defensive again. A flicker of annoyance ran through Draco, and he soon remembered his captain's warning. During the last game, Chang had relied on distracting Diggory to drive up the point margin between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, which is why they ultimately won the game. Since Slytherin and Ravenclaw were matching each other for goals, the Ravenclaw was simultaneously tracking him and the Snitch to end the game briskly. If Chang was intent on following him, then he would give her a good chase.

Draco pulled on his broom firmly, braking him in mid-air and looked around the sky and changed course. He could almost hear Chang behind him, chasing him as he zigzagged through the sky. He could hear the slight whistle of an aimed Bludger approach him and he dodged it at the last moment, as he mimicked Diggory and abruptly pulled his broom up and around and carried on in the opposite direction. He laughed as Jordan made a flippant comment about Draco's unoriginality for copying Diggory's move from the last game.

Except, Draco was not chasing a Snitch.

If he was, there was no way that Chang, on her outdated Cleansweep, would outfly his Nimbus. Draco urged his broom on through the skies, but at a pace that would match Chang. He had only travelled several hundred yards before he could hear her coming at him from the side, in an attempt to block him again.

This time, he would not stop for her.

This was the part of the game that he enjoyed the most, the part where the wind raked through his fine hair as he hurried through the skies, the wind slapping his cheeks until they were red raw and the rush of adrenaline as he artfully eluded everything that the Ravenclaw Beaters were sending his way. Draco peeked to his right.

Chang was nearing him, and had changed course slightly so that she would appear in front of him to block him and he would have to veer off course to avoid her. Lowering himself towards his broom, he urged his broomstick on, speeding up ever so slightly so that Chang would not notice the difference in speed and alter her course. When she did notice it, she would have little time – or, in Draco's opinion, skill – to stop the collision. Draco braced himself for…

He was tumbling, hundreds of feet in the air. She had unseated him as they collided together and he was falling and falling, and falling. His broomstick lay lifeless in his right hand and he hurtled downwards. His ears burned at the change in altitude.

Get back on your broom!

He somewhat gathered his wits together and struggled against gravity as he reached for his broom with his other hand to try and sit on it again. Professor Dumbledore did not deign to appear at this Quidditch game, and he was less sure that his godfather would prevent him from becoming a Malfoy pancake if Draco did not act quick enough. He reached for his broom again, his stiff fingertips barely grazing his Nimbus before slipping away. Professor Snape would probably say that Draco deserved any injuries he received, just as he had with the Hippogriff and would let it happen, regardless of what his mother would say.

Stop it with the internal chatter and get back on your broom!

As soon as his managed to grip his broom with his other hand, the Nimbus halted its fall and righted itself in the air, jerking slightly and Draco struggled to stay gripped onto his broom. When his broom had settled, Draco glanced down and saw that he was dangling only twenty feet or so above from the ground. Feeling his heart race under his Quidditch uniform, he closed his eyes and laughed in relief. There would be no Malfoy pancake served during this game. He could feel his grip loosening, and pulled himself onto his broom again eliciting cheers from the other end of the pitch. He could hear boos from above him, and just knew where he had landed.

He rose, and could see a sea of faces hanging over the stands and in the masses of crimson stood a single supporter in emerald. He steered his broom over to the edge and saw that his sister had red finger marks on her cheeks where she had been gripping them tightly.

"Are you alright?" she frantically asked over the increasing boos.

"Just about," Draco replied, he looked over at the rest of the Gryffindors and saw Hermione's nose in a book. She looked up for a moment before raising an eyebrow at him.

"Don't you have a game to play?"

Draco, uncharacteristically even for him, winked at her and replied, "I have a game to win."

That was an unpopular thing to say by the Gryffindor stands, as the boos got louder and more aggressive to Draco's satisfaction. He soared off, ready to do a lap around the Quidditch pitch. Flint caught up with him and gruffly told him that Draco had earned them a penalty, and the now flustered Ravenclaws had since allowed another goal. Slytherin were now twenty points above their opponents.

"Now, get that Snitch so we can end this sometime this century, Malfoy," Flint called after him as Draco started to drift away. He nodded at his Captain and raced away into the air.

It was not long before Chang was near him again, and Draco could sense her hesitancy to follow him or give chase.

"Keeping your distance, Chang?" Draco catcalled, and he was met with a surly expression.

"You're a dirty player, Malfoy."

"Me? I was not the one who just committed a foul."

"You flew into my path on purpose," Chang said with a bitter edge to her tone.

"Why would I purposefully get myself knocked off my broom?" Draco asked, fighting the faintest tug to move his lips into a smile. "I could have died."

"You know as well as I do that you wouldn't have died."

Draco could hear the faintest of buzzing near him, and he could almost feel his heart stop. His breathing hitched for the smallest of seconds before he forced himself to act and behave normally. Ever since that first game, the one with Potter and where the Snitch had been buzzing next to his ear, Draco had forced himself to train in listening to the faintest of sounds around him. It was why he could hear Chang chase him, or the subtle noises a Bludger made as one was hit in his direction. It was that attention that he now paid to his surroundings that made all the difference, and was what was going to make the difference now.

Chang was momentarily distracted as Ravenclaw scored a goal, and Draco saw a thin smile appear on her face. Now that Draco knew that the Snitch was nearby, he was just going to have to use Chang's tactic against her.

"How did you know that I would not have died?" Draco asked quickly, pulling in Chang's attention. Chang snorted and she turned towards him.

"Because you have a flair for the dramatics, just like your sister."

Draco might have been listening for the small sounds of the Snitch, but he could not miss the hint of bitterness that coloured the last part of her sentence. He smirked.

"Are you jealous of Lacie?"

Chang's brows furrowed at him and she asked, "Why would I be jealous of her?"

Draco let go of his broom, crossed his arms and shrugged at her. The buzzing was starting to get slightly louder and he tried to be dismissive as he looked over his shoulder. He blinked, as the Snitch was still nowhere in sight. He could definitely hear it.

Maybe you are imagining it?

Draco turned back to face Chang and simply replied with, "Diggory."

At that Chang reddened and huffed at him, "Of course, you think because I am a girl, the only possible reason I could potentially be jealous of your sister is because of a boy."

Draco blinked at her and smirked, "Chang, I think you are going greener than my robes."

"Why would I be jealous of an -…"

Chang never got the chance to describe what Lacie was, as a faint glimmer of gold flashed in front of them. Draco inhaled sharply. Sounds dissipated, and he could not hear a thing. He could see recognition appear in Chang's eyes. He reached out instinctively, and grinned as he felt the smooth metal in his fingers. Chang's nails scratched his hands as she grasped at thin air in vain. His stomach tightened and loosened as he felt the resistance of the flutter in the palm of his hand.

What was a matter of seconds had felt like hours. Draco could see the shock and disappointment on Chang's face.

When it seemed like he could breathe again, sounds flooded around him and he could hear a high-pitched whistle and an enormous chorus of boos. Draco did not care for the disapproval as he grinned at his opponent and offered her his other hand. Chang flew off in annoyance, and again, Draco did not care for her. He swooped, raising the hand that was still clasped around the Snitch in the air, joining his teammates as they lapped around the pitch in victory.

Draco caught his Captain's eye as they flew in formation, and he did not seem too pleased with the win.

It was a win, but only narrowly.

They would have to do better next time.

x-x-x-x-x

"I need your help."

"No."

Hermione didn't need to look up to see who it was as she could recognise that tenor or arrogance anywhere. It was the voice of someone who had been nagging her every time that she had stepped a single toe in the library. It was the voice that followed her from several classes, always asking for help or an opinion. Hermione didn't know at what point Blaise Zabini considered her an acquaintance or a tutor, but she wished she could go back in time and convince him otherwise. Her fingers playfully reached for her shirt, where underneath was the small Time-Turner she wore everywhere.

Bad things happen to those who meddle with time for their personal gain.

If Draco hadn't snuck a note to her asking her if she wanted to study that night, she wouldn't have come to the library.

"Please."

"No."

There was a scraping noise as the chair opposite to her was pulled backwards and Zabini fell into it. From the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed that one of the books on the top of one of her piles had been picked up by her unwanted companion.

"Why are you reading this?"

Hermione looked up. As best as she could in her tiredness, she glared at Zabini before replying, "Because I take Divination."

She held out her hand, and Zabini dropped the book into it. Hermione replaced it onto the stack of books for the homework she was yet to complete. She returned to her work with vigour, hoping that Zabini would take the hint.

"Do you take every subject they had to offer?"

"Not every single one, I was told Alchemy is a NEWT level subject."

"Do you even sleep?"

Hermione stopped writing. It was a question that was posed in jest, Hermione knew that, but it was the first time in a long time that someone had commented on her welfare. The rest of her housemates assumed that part of Hermione's routine, overtaxing herself. They had known her for almost three years, and they only knew Hermione as an overachiever who worked too hard on her work, and they usually left her to it. Only Lacie could or would drag her away from her books. However, even Lacie seemed too busy to notice her as of late. Diggory had given her tougher work, and when she wasn't working on her schoolwork, she was practising piano or fixing and breaking in ballet shoes. It seemed that she only saw her best friend during classes.

She was also lucky if Harry and Ron would give her the time of day. They were still convinced that Hermione was trying to sabotage them.

Not that, now that she was surrounded in piles of books and reading, Hermione cared. February had arrived suddenly, and even though she had an abundance of time resting on her chest, there never seemed to be enough time to get things done, let alone sleep.

"I get enough," Hermione answered curtly. "Can you leave me alone now?"

"I am not leaving until you help me with my Rune translation."

"Fine," Hermione snapped and glowered at him, "I will help you with your Ancient Runes."

"Really?"

"Really. If you go down three bookshelves and turn left, there are some Rune dictionaries that may help."

Zabini chortled. Hermione paid little attention to him as she returned to her work. Zabini's distraction had caused her to mark a moon in the wrong place. She could feel her temper rise as she reached for her wand to erase the offending mistake. She forced herself to swallow her irritation, before she ended up burning a hole in her work.

"Funny. Granger, now -…" Zabini said before pausing, "Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

At that, Hermione did look up. Draco looked as collected as ever, and Hermione envied him for it. His workload may not have been as intense as hers, but he still had more on his plate than most students in their year. Lacie did too, but Merlin forbid a Malfoy have a hair out of place or dark circles under their eyes. It was no secret that Hermione envied the pair, but this envy soon turned into confusion as Draco didn't even glance in her direction.

Why would he? He pretends as if you aren't friends outside of this section of this library… unless one of his proper friends was here.

Hermione chased that bitter train of thought away.

"I thought that this might be a quiet place to work, but I suppose I was wrong." Draco responded coolly, "What are you doing here?"

"Granger was just helping me with some Rune translations."

Draco glanced briefly at her, before pressing his lips together into a thin line and staring back at Zabini. Zabini smirked as he observed Draco's reaction.

"Clearly," Hermione muttered, returning to her chart.

"Are you here to ask Granger for help too?"

There was a quiet snort. "I think I can manage without consulting the know-it-all, thank you, Zabini."

"I would have thought that Granger would have insight for your Muggle Studies work," Zabini commented and picked up a book on Muggle sports that Hermione had finished using. Hermione glared across the table at Zabini, but he was too busy reading the blurbs on the back to notice.

"Muggles are so simple-minded, I do not think it will be a challenge," Draco retorted.

Zabini turned to Hermione and puckered his lower lip and dropping the book onto her work, "Is that true? Are your parents simple-minded?"

"I am not even justifying that ignorant opinion with a response," Hermione snapped, she picked up the book that Zabini has disturbed and slammed it back onto the pile from where Zabini had picked it up from. His attention had moved elsewhere.

"Leaving so soon?"

"I did say I was looking for a quiet place to work, this corner of the library seems awfully too lively now," Draco replied.

"A presto."

Draco seemed to hesitate before he muttered, "Ciao."

When Draco's retreating footsteps could no longer be heard on the library's polished floor, Zabini spoke up.

"Draco can be rather horrid, please do not take it to heart."

"I won't, but please don't flatter yourself into thinking you are any better," Hermione said after gathering her thoughts and looking up and meeting Blaise's hazel eyes.

His eyebrow raised ever-so-slightly, and even though his lips remained slightly parted, there was a smile dancing in his eyes. He pressed his lips together for a moment before saying, "Down three bookshelves and turn left?"

Hermione was taken back by his non-confrontational response, and nodded. Blaise stood up, slowly and gracefully whilst watching his reflection in the window. He smiled at himself before turning to Hermione.

"If I get lost, I will be back to ask you for proper help."

With that, he walked away and disappeared behind the bookshelves. Determined not to be caught by Zabini again, Hermione gathered all of the books that she had finished using and carried them to the nearest trolley. Normally she would put the books back to where she had found them, but she was in a hurry and used the enchanted trolleys that did the work for her. When she rushed back to her table, a second unwanted person was rooting through the books she had yet to read.

"Leave me alone."

"Why are you helping Zabini?"

Hermione walked around the table and angrily shoved her many papers, charts, and stationary into her schoolbag.

"I asked - …"

Hermione's head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes at Draco, "You have absolutely no right to ask - …"

"I know," Draco interrupted pathetically. He played with one of the library chairs in front of him, and did not directly meet her gaze. He tilted the chair back ever-so-slightly, and then let it fall upright. Hermione stopped packing her bag and watched Draco.

"You can't keep treating me like this, we're either friends or not."

"I know," he repeated, again with same pathetic tone.

"I think we should tell people we're friends," Hermione huffed. Draco looked away.

"I hate lying and sneaking around Lacie. She's your sister so she would understand it," Hermione continued, hoping for one moment that Draco would understand. If she was really his friend then he would take it into consideration.

It was true that she hated lying and sneaking around Lacie. She had enough to lie about when it came to where she was going every other hour, let alone about her extracurriculars.

Lying was an exhausting task. Hermione could never be a spy, she concluded.

"I told you, as soon as Professor Hagrid wins the trial and Mother keeps her distance from my father, then it would be a possibility," Draco said.

"A possibility?" Hermione squeaked in a voice that was several octaves higher than she was expecting. She gulped and composed herself, "You know some Slytherins find me tolerable."

"That only applies so long as Potter does not have a Firebolt in his possession," Draco said, looking at her through his dark eyelashes. "By the end of this week, I can guarantee that the standard repartee between you and every other Slytherin will come back in full force."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because Saturday is the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw game, and Professor McGonagall will make sure that Potter will have his Firebolt for the game."

"The game is this Saturday?" Hermione asked, now panicked and she ripped her bag open and searched through her bag for her diary. She dragged the things she has hastily shoved in moments earlier out, and found the thing she was looking for. She flipped through the pages of her planner until she saw that they were in the third week of February already.

Hermione was slowly losing perception of time, she thought that it was only a few days in. Professor McGonagall had warned her of this, that dabbling in time would distort her reality.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione shook her head, the bobble that she had used to tie her hair up loosened at the motion, causing for several curls to fall free. When she had found herself in the right week, she realised that she had remained organised enough to write important deadlines in the correct places, despite her mind thinking it was firmly in a different time. She turned the page, and felt her face drain of blood.

"Hermione?"

"Next week is the trial," Hermione gulped, wringing her hands. "I haven't done enough work! Hagrid is nowhere near prepared for a full Wizengamot trial."

A hand gripped hers and Hermione looked up, Draco wasn't smiling her or offering her a visible form of comfort, but somehow she instantly felt calmer.

"You have done enough, if Professor Hagrid fumbles the trial it will not be from your lack of trying, but because he is a bigger oaf than I thought he was."

Hermione snatched her hand back, "Hagrid is not an oaf."

"If you say so," Draco said, biting his lower lip from a smile.

Hermione swallowed, as she held onto Draco's gaze and wondered if he would really tell Theo that he considered Hermione to be his friend. She wondered if Draco would ever allow himself to be seen in a corridor with her, or conversing with her as an equal. He confused her. One moment he would talk to her as he normally would. Then, he seemed to catch himself in a moment and act standoffish, and often crueller than before to make up for his mistake. He seemed to catch himself now as he looked away and inspected his fingernails and readjusted the chair that was in front of him.

Hermione put her things back into her bag and picked up the books she had yet to check out.

"Would you please reconsider?"

He did not acknowledge the question and simply sat down. Feeling a little bit hurt, Hermione walked towards the librarian's desk and kindly asked Madam Pince if she could borrow her selection.

As Hermione walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room, under her heavy pile of books, she realised that she wasn't happy. She hadn't been for a long time. She wasn't happy that she barely even saw her best friend. She wasn't happy she spent time with someone who wouldn't even recognise her as a friend in public. She wasn't happy that her friendship with Harry and Ron was in tatters. She looked at the Divination book at the top of her large pile, and realised that she wasn't happy with her schoolwork either. At one point she loved nothing more to crack open a book and devour its contents. Now, all she wanted to do was shut them and go to sleep.

Oh, how she missed sleeping.

She was a liar, and a cheat. A person shouldn't be allowed more than their allocated time of a day, and here she was, claiming twenty-seven hours a day, most days. Now it was coming back to haunt her as she constantly lost track of time.

"Avalon," she muttered to Sir Cadogan before he asked if he could joust for her honour and the Portrait Hole swung open to sounds of celebration.

Hermione stumbled into the Common Room and saw that there was a crowd in the middle of it. Realising that she wouldn't get an iota of peace in there, she walked towards her dormitory.

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned around, struggling under the weight of her books and saw Harry grinning at her. She blinked at him, wanting to say something but her mind was completely at a loss.

"I got my Firebolt back," Harry told her breathlessly, and Hermione's gaze flickered over to Ron, who was carrying the broom as it if was an ancient relic or a precious trophy. As her eyes roved over the rest of the Common Room, she noticed that the jubilation had died down and people were watching them.

"Congratulations," Hermione said tightly.

"I told you there was nothing wrong with it," Ron said matter-of-factly.

"You should have realised that Professor McGonagall would have given it back before the Ravenclaw game, you know how much she wants to win the Quidditch Cup," a voice interjected. Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw Lacie saunter towards them. Her friend reached for the books that Hermione was carrying and she took half, lessening Hermione's load. "She probably wants the Cup more than Wood."

"No one wants the Quidditch Cup more than Wood," a series of voices chorused in the crowd and someone, presumably Wood, replied with a loud, "Oi."

"The point is, if Black was going to try and kill Harry, he wouldn't buy him a really expensive room to do it, would he?" Ron asked, suddenly abashed. He was probably ashamed for not thinking of that logic sooner, or had been trying to hide that train of thought in favour of ostracising Hermione.

"I'm afraid of Greeks, even those bearing gifts," Hermione muttered quietly and Lacie nodded. Harry looked at her with a confused look on his face. Ron stared at the Firebolt with trepidation. It seemed that likening the broomstick to a Trojan horse had caught his attention.

His attention didn't last though as Neville called for him from the top of the stairs that led towards the boy's dormitory. The urgency in his tone made Ron shoot up the stairs, precious broomstick in hand, and Harry followed. Hermione placed her books on a table, and climbed towards the boy's dormitory, wondering what had Neville so panicked. It seemed like quite a few people were feeling nosy too and crowded around the door. When Hermione and Lacie had fought their way into the boy's dormitory, they saw Neville pointing at what Hermione assumed was Ron's bed.

Hermione felt Lacie flinch beside her as they both saw that it was covered in blood. Her hand moved to cover her mouth.

"Is…that…?" Hermione said, her voice was barely a whisper.

"Scabbers," Ron breathed.

"What is that…?" Lacie asked, her words were muffled from the hand that was still over her mouth. She lowered her hand and pointed at Ron's bed, "All over the bed?"

Ron went closer to his bed to see what Lacie was pointing at and he looked up at Hermione, an icy glare fixed on his face. Hermione inched closer to his bed, and inspected what it was that littered all over the bed.

Long ginger hairs. Too long and too coarse to be from Ron, and realisation hit her like a boulder.

She fell backwards, her shaking hands clasped over her mouth and she ran out of the dormitory. She staggered down the stone staircase back into the Common Room. Her pet cat had killed Ron's rat. He had warned her, multiple times that her cat was aiming for his rat and that she should do more. She should have done more. Crookshanks is a cat, it's normal for him to hunt, how much could Hermione do? Hermione couldn't keep her cat locked up every day.

"You did this on purpose."

Hermione spun around and saw Ron, fighting back tears. He walked towards her, and seemed to think carefully about what he was going to say. He thought better of it and pointed angrily at her, "You told your cat to kill Scabbers because of what I said to you, didn't you?"

"I-I…"

"You planned this. Did you ask you Slytherin friends on how to punish me?"

"N-No…"

He was close to her now, and his mouth twisted into a smile that didn't reach his sad eyes. "I wonder how many Slytherin friends you'll have when they find out Harry has his Firebolt back."

At that, Hermione felt a rush of anger and she stepped up to Ron, and wondered how many times she would have to try and get through his thick skull that she had never intended for the Slytherins to be nice to her. That was an unplanned consequence. Her resolve shattered when she actually looked at Ron, who looked completely devastated.

He grabbed her arm and leaned towards her, "I'll never forgive you."

He let go of her and stormed up towards his dormitory, and Hermione stumbled backwards. The people who had rushed to the boy's dormitory were slowly filing out, casting Hermione dark looks again. The last person to file out was Lacie, who looked at her sympathetically. She took Hermione's hand and pulled her towards their dormitory. Her friend even picked up Hermione's library books that they had put on a table to run upstairs. Lacie didn't let go of her, even as she sat Hermione down on her bed. Crookshanks jumped up to join them, nuzzling Hermione's arm. She didn't have the heart to push her pet away.

"You can cry if you want, I will not tell anyone."

"What?"

"Hermione, you look like as if you are about to burst into tears, and you have for a long time."

"I…"

"You will feel a lot better if you do."

So she did. Reaching over towards her shocked best friend, Hermione started to cry.

A/N: Happy (late) Valentine's Day, here is a gift in the form of a chapter. Apologies for a late update again! I think I have to stop promising an upload timescale as my timetable is far too erratic to steadily write/edit/post. Also, I had an idea for another story and I keep shifting attention to that one and it's the shiny new toy but I am working hard still on this one haha.

Happy reading,

CSxo.