She had kissed Draco Malfoy. Yet every time she told herself this it became less and less plausible. How could she have done such a thing? What in Godric's name was she actually thinking?

That was the problem, she hadn't been thinking. She'd gone and gotten herself half-drunk in his company. She was not only completely and utterly furious with herself but also deeply ashamed. How on earth could she tell Ron about this? How on earth could she tell anyone about this? It was hard enough just trying to break it to herself. She pushed the event as far back in her mind as it would go.

Subconsciously, she was thankful that it had happened so close to Christmas break. McGonagall didn't have anything left for them to work on, so she was spared being forced to spend time in his company. Her time outside of classes was spent primarily in the safety of her room studying with as little of her other time as possible spent anywhere that she might run into him. She intentionally skipped out on the last trip to Hogsmeade before Christmas, for fear that she might run into him there, and tried to eat as quickly as possible at meal times.

Her conscience plagued her mercilessly and she felt dirty and dishonest. She pushed herself to hold on for the two weeks left before break, hoping that distance would help her find asylum from the guilt that haunted her. Soon, she chided herself. Soon you'll be home for the holidays and you can take time to sort out all this insanity.

Fortunately, the two weeks flew by. Unfortunately, she found no comfort once distance had isolated her from him.

After a semi-enjoyable Christmas feast she and Ginny boarded the Hogwarts express heading back to London. Hermione didn't feel at all like talking and pretended to be deeply interested in one of her books the entire way home. It was the first time she could remember ever having to pretend to read.

To think that not that long ago, she'd been bursting with excitement to get back and see Ron and Harry again. The train arrived precisely on schedule, even though it snowed throughout their entire journey. Upon alighting, her stomach turned when her gaze immediately fell on Ron's face, beaming back at her.

He wouldn't be smiling if they knew what I've done.

The first two days back were the worst. Every moment spent around the Weasleys felt like she was walking on broken glass. Every time someone called her name she would give a slight jump and half expect them to accuse her of the awful thing she'd done. Avoiding Ron was becoming tedious, though with Mrs. Weasley's constant fussing over him, Hermione found it more easy than she would have hoped. Eventually though, she came to the point of feeling so miserable and on edge, she knew she couldn't possibly keep it inside any longer. She would have to tell someone. If she didn't get it off her chest soon, the guilt might suffocate her.

At first, she considered telling Ginny, but didn't know if it was such a good idea. After all, she'd effectively just cheated on the girl's brother. This left Harry as the obvious choice. They had been best friends for so long; if anyone was going to understand, it would be him.

At least, she was desperately hoping he would.

She pulled him aside on a busy evening two days before Christmas, requesting a chance to speak to him in private. They made their way away from the house and out into the grassy plains that stretched out for miles in all directions interrupted only by the occasional grouping of trees. She looked back nervously as they waded their way through the tall grasses and hoped that no one would miss their presence too much. When they were a good ways away from the house, it was Harry that addressed her.

"You said you needed to talk about something, Hermione?" His tone was gentle and his glance her way was filled with care. She wondered absentmindedly if the care would still be there once she told him.

"I do... I do… I just don't know how to tell you." She fidgeted nervously with the hem of her jumper and bit her lip. "Well, I guess it started on my first day back at Hogwarts. Did Ron talk about my letter with you at all?"

"He mentioned it. Said he thought Malfoy was up to something suspicious. Something about him acting decent for once?" She nodded and proceeded to tell him the same information she had shared with both Ginny and Ron.

"And he's just been pleasant ever since?" Harry asked with a tone of incredulity.

"Yeah. He's actually been kinda nice to work with. We get along a lot better now that we've been able to put it all behind us."

"Huh," he breathed, evidently still unawares of how to handle the new information. "Well I guess that's good Hermione. It'd be miserable if you had to work with old Malfoy all year." He paused and furrowed his brow in thought. "I mean, if I really think about it, I'm not surprised that he's changed. Believe me, I've gone over that night in Malfoy Manor at least a hundred times and I suppose I've come to a similar conclusion. There's just no other good reason that he didn't turn us in or ever really fight back in any way. Not to mention that he and his family defected to our side during the Battle of Hogwarts. I guess, in the end, they all finally figured out how awful Voldemort really was."

She winced at the name. It still made her uncomfortable.

"Still, I don't know if I could get used to the new Malfoy after knowing him for so long. Getting chummy with someone who's been so foul? And a Slytherin no less?" He shuddered and then gave a slight disbelieving shake of his head. "You're a better person than I am, Hermione."

Hermione said nothing. On the inside she was chanting, No I'm not. You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what I was going to tell you. She needed to go on, but how could she? Tears started forming in the corners of her eyes.

"Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

A lone, broken sob escaped her as the tears broke free and began to fall. Harry wheeled around.

"Hermione! Are you okay? What… what happened?" He rushed to her side and without hesitation pulled her in toward him. She buried her face in his soft heathered jacket. He held her tight and ran a hand gently up and down her back to comfort her.

"What's wrong Hermione? Please, you can tell me." She sobbed as tears stung her eyes.

"I…I...c-can't."

His voice was now low and soothing. "Sure you can. I'm here. I'm here for you." She didn't want to. But she had to. Guilt was welling insider her as if threatening to burn a hole through her heart. She tried to communicate between the powerful sobs escaping her body.

"I…I…ki…issed….Ma..alfoy." She crumbled out of his arms and down onto the ground below. She pulled her knees up and buried her face as far into her crossed arms as she possibly could. Shame sent shuddering aches running through her body.

Harry cautiously got down on his knees behind her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "It's okay Hermione."

"No it isn't!" she yelled. "It's completely unforgiveable. How could I do something like that? How could I do that to Ron? Oh Harry, how will I ever tell him?"

He pulled her close again and she unfolded enough to let herself be held. The only sounds to be heard were the muffled, wet sounds of her sobs as he simply let her cry.

Harry didn't speak again until her sobs had died down to slight breathy hiccups. "How did it happen?"

She sniffled miserably. "We were in the great hall, alone, after we had just gotten finished decorating for Christmas. I was tired and I wanted a butterbeer so I went and got us a couple from the kitchens and I must have drunk a little too much because next thing I knew I was kissing him." Her voice was bitter as she recalled the event. Harry remained silent. "Oh Harry, I've felt positively awful since it happened. I want to tell Ron…" She sighed heavily. "I just don't think I can."

It seemed like months passed as she waited for Harry to say something, anything.

"Hermione, I know it's going to be hard, but you've got to tell him." His tone was serious. "Look, I know Ron, and he's probably not going to take it well, but you've got to be honest with him. And not only for his sake, but for yours."

"But what if he-"

"I don't know what will happen," Harry said with a sigh. "Ron will be Ron. He always has done. But I think that the sooner you tell him, the better your chances." He gave her a gentle reassuring squeeze and smiled. "I'm glad you told me though. And I want you to know that, whatever happens, I'm here for you. Okay?"

She managed a feeble nod. Harry remained with her in silence, holding her until she was ready to go back to the house.

As they walked back, she muddled over Harry's words. He was right of course. She had known it as well. Not telling Ron would tear her apart from the inside- the past week alone had shown that. Still, she was terrified. What if he got mad? What if he decided that he didn't want to be with her anymore?

But she couldn't change the past. She would just have to live with whatever punishment she deserved.

At least it was a relief to know that Harry didn't judge her.

Hermione decided to wait until after Christmas to take it up with Ron. It was painful, holding it in, trying her best to pretend like nothing lay amiss, but she didn't want to put another damper on his favorite holiday. It was the family's first Christmas since they had lost Fred and Mrs. Weasley was in a particularly fragile state.

George showed up for Christmas eve and stayed overnight to celebrate with them the next morning. Hermione noticed that he was also more sober than his usual self, though she didn't blame him in the slightest. She couldn't even begin to imagine what he was dealing with- what she knew he would always have to deal with. On Christmas morning, she caught sight of a tear running down his cheek when he opened his new sweater alone for the first time.

Hermione herself was holding back tears on Christmas day. Having been too busy hunting Horcruxes with Harry to have a proper Christmas celebration the year before, the weight of not having her parents around to celebrate had finally come crashing swiftly down on her. Though the Weasleys had often been much like a second family to her, it did not by any means take away from the fact that she and her father would not watch their favorite Christmas movie on boxing day together or that she and her mother would not bake gingerbread men at any time in the foreseeable future.

Luckily for her, Ron was too busy with Christmas preparations and helping to console his mother that he didn't set aside any alone time for them until a few days after Christmas had passed. Her break was nearly over and he seemed to notice that time was slowly slipping away from them. He pulled her aside one afternoon nearly half way through her last week there.

"Tough to get some alone time around here, isn't it? It's always been that way though," he said with a tired expression. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he whispered in her ear. "What say you and I go for a nice long walk this evening? Just the two of us." She tried her best to look excited as she nodded in agreement, but anxiety churned dangerously below the surface.

They headed out about an hour before sundown as the sun's descent was drawing near to the horizon and its soft yellows and oranges began to saturate the surrounding atmosphere. They set their course for a hill about a quarter of a mile in the distance. It was Ron's favorite spot to watch the sunset. He was in a chipper mood as they walked, talking about his favorite quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, and about his work at the aurors office. She tried to listen attentively, but found it very difficult to pay attention as her own worried thoughts bounced turbulently about in her head.

She pretended not to notice when he attempted to take her hand and stuffed them into her pockets as if to keep them warm. They were shaking so violently even Ron would have taken notice. When they reached the hill, Ron laid out the tattered checkered blanket they'd brought to insulate them from the cold ground. The sun's slanted rays washed their way over the field and up onto them as they sat down to watch it sink. She glanced over at Ron's illuminated face as he squinted at the horizon now tinged in pink. He looked so peaceful and pleasant.

What a waste, she thought, to spoil such a beautiful scene.

Her heartbeat quickened and her breath became unsteady in preparation for what she was about to do. She was going to hurt him. She was going to hurt the boy that had been with her as a friend since her very first year of Hogwarts. The silly little redheaded boy that had teased her and bickered with her, but the one that she had fallen head over heels for just the same.

She was going to hurt her best friend. This thought broke her heart anew and she fought back a gathering of hysteria. Two sweaters and a winter jacket didn't help her much when the coldness she felt was welling from within.

"Ron…" He turned to face her, his expression curious and attentive.

"I kissed Malfoy."

She's said it. Gotten it out of the way quickly… but not painlessly. Her heart sank instantly as his expression darkened. It sank until she couldn't feel it's beat anymore. A mix of worry and confusion conflicted upon his face. A laugh startled her.

"Yeah, ha ha, very funny Hermione. Like I'd actually believe you would kiss a wanker like Malfoy." But his smile began to vanish again as he noticed her face remained dead with sobriety.

"I wish I was joking, but I'm telling the truth. I'm ashamed and I'm sorry. You deserve to know the truth." Even the tears wouldn't come. Her nerves had been so shot to hell that she couldn't feel anything. Even without a heart to feel it with, she couldn't bear the pain as she watched the hurt weave its way into his features and she had to look away. Her voice came out as little more than a croak. "It was an accident, I promise. I was half-drunk and it just sort of happened…." she dropped off. She had nothing more to say. It sounded too pitiful when she tried to defend it.

Ron was silent and then silent some more. She risked a glance in his direction to see him turned away from her and into the sun. His jaw was clenched and a vein was making itself prominent on his neck. He was silent until only the last few rays of the day shone over the tree tops in the distance. The last little slivers of light were inching their way back down the hill and toward the horizon as if tiredly returning home after a long day's work.

"I don't understand," he muttered. His voice was gravelly and unstable as he attempted to conceal what Hermione knew had to be anger and confusion. "You've been snogging Draco Malfoy? As in, the boy whose first word was probably some prejudiced slur? As in, the death eater? As in, the same cruel bully that I've been trying to defend you from since day one? The one who, not that long ago, we were sure was up to something devious? What the hell changed?!" His voice was raised and sharp. She flinched.

"He's… changed… he apologized for what he did-" Ron cut her off.

"And suddenly that makes it okay to make out with him?!"

"I didn't say that- it was an accident," she squeaked, now feeling impossibly small.

"I should have known from the beginning," he spat. "You were never interested in me. But that's what I am, aren't I? That's what I've always been! Some sort of consolation prize! Someone temporary!" His gaze was withering.

"Ron, I never said that. I never even thought that. How could I ever? You've always meant so much to me." Her voice cracked as tears flooded her eyes.

Everything was falling apart.

"Ron, I love you. I've always loved you."

But the words seemed to bounce off of him, his face showing no indication that he'd heard or understood her.

"Save it," he huffed, standing up and turning away. "I thought that when you cheated on me one day it'd be with someone better than the likes of Malfoy. Funny how I spent all that time worrying about you and Harry. Now I wish it had been him." She felt lucky that she had no more heart to break. If she had, she was sure those words would have dissolved it completely.

She wanted to speak but no words came. She wanted to reach out but her arms were paralyzed. She felt like she was dematerializing as he walked away without another word. It felt like she was blowing away on the cold December wind that now pierced its way through her clothes. Thick tears blurred her vision as she watched his figure grow smaller in the last faint grey light of the day. The bitter cold and her own unfeeling numbed her body and her ties to reality dissolved.

Is this what it feels like to die of heartbreak?

A/N: So I'd just like to issue an apology to you all for the quality of the past couple of chapters I posted. I don't know if you even noticed a difference and I'm just blind and the rest of my story is also riddled with small mistakes (though I've been regularly going back and trying to find and correct those), but the past 2-3 chapters were posted in rather more of a rush as I was away from home and quite busy the past couple of weeks, so I didn't get to read through them as thoroughly or as frequently as I wanted. Since coming back I've gone over them again and tried to amend the little typos and grammatical errors. I usually do much better so I'll certainly keep trying to put out near-perfect chapters (at least in terms of syntax) the first time round.

Thank you for sticking with me and for taking the time to read my story. You're all wonderful.