It was a really odd feeling, Hermione reflected that morning, to get up and decide what clothes you wanted to cry in.

The more Hermione thought about it, the more uncomfortable she felt. It was the end of the school year, and the Slytherins had subtly undermined Ron at every available opportunity. They'd largely succeeded – his housemates, by and large, were not fans of him. She still felt somehow compelled, though – perhaps because not everyone disliked Ron, only members of his house?

She wanted to back out. Desperately. But at this point, she couldn't not let Ron yell at her until she was in tears. The idea of not doing it seemed foreign… it seemed wrong. Like something was pushing her on.

At least this would be the end of it, Hermione decided. Having Ron yell at her until she cried was the last thing they'd all agreed on as part of their 'Downfall to Weasley' plot. Maybe after this, it could all end.

Though Ron would still be a troll. It wasn't as if he'd ever learned a lesson from anything that had happened to him.

She sighed, pulling on one of her nicer green robes, pinning her Slytherin crest to her chest. It was a lot harder to show House Pride when it was so hot out – she couldn't bear the thought of wearing a scarf in this weather. After giving herself a long once-over, fixing her hair a bit, Hermione sighed and left, joining her friends, who were happily babbling about the Quidditch match.

"I can't believe they're going to play without Potter!" Flint was laughing. "This is going to be a slaughter!"

"It's not as if they have any other option," an older girl pointed out. "Classes are all over, and we all leave in a couple days. There's no time left to postpone the match."

"Brilliant!" Flint roared. He looked up abruptly, as if just seeing Hermione, and gave her a devious smile. It was quite frightening, actually; her parents would have had fits at the state of his teeth.

"And we have you to thank for it!" he said, and Hermione was abruptly grabbed, Flint rubbing her head hard with his knuckles, getting his hand tangled in her hair. "You and Professor Quirrell!"

"I hardly think I had anything to do with Harry getting injured!" Hermione objected, fighting to get away from Flint. Several others were laughing, watching. "He seems quite able to do that all on his own!"

Flint laughed and let go of her, and Hermione stumbled away in a huff. Flint was looking at her fondly, though, like a little sister, and Adrian Pucey and another boy were laughing with him, but they were grinning at her. Hermione gave a tentative smile back but veered away from them, joining with Tracey and Blaise as they went down to the pitch, but when she glanced over at them, Pucey shot her a mischievous smile, one that she cautiously returned.

Maybe they really were just grateful that Harry couldn't play. He was a Quidditch prodigy. With him playing, Hufflepuff wouldn't have stood much of a chance.

The match itself was tense. It was awkward to watch a match knowing someone was going to yell at you afterward, and Hermione found it hard to enjoy herself, but she tried her best. At least the Quidditch match wasn't quite as much of a slaughter as Hermione had feared it'd be; the rest of the Gryffindor team was playing as fiercely as possible, the Chasers aggressive beyond measure, and the Beaters doing their absolute best to obstruct Hufflepuff's Seeker. Hermione decided that this was better – it was giving the Slytherin boys more time to hassle Ron. Hermione could see them from across the stands behind Ron. Who knew what remarks Draco and Blaise and Theo were making? Were Crabbe and Goyle getting involved?

Whatever they were saying, it was working; Ron was clearly getting angrier and angrier – his face changed colors when he was mad.

The Hufflepuff Seeker, however, managed to catch the Snitch, giving Hufflepuff the win at 210-60. This meant they won the Quidditch cup, and Hermione was surprised to see there was an actual cup Hufflepuff won, like a Muggle sports trophy. Everyone was cheering, and Hermione amicably clapped along with them. Even though she didn't care who won, she was happy for Hufflepuff.

Better them than Gryffindor, she smiled to herself. Even with as many friends as she had in Gryffindor, it was hard not to internalize the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin in some way, shape, or form.

Hermione felt a gentle nudge on her back, and she turned.

"It's time," Daphne murmured. "Are you ready?"

Hermione took a deep breath.

As everyone began to leave, Hermione angled her path leaving the stands carefully, arriving just in front of the teacher's box as Neville and Ron arrived. She arrived just as planned, glancing around to confirm at least one teacher was around, before turning to the Gryffindors.

"Hi Ron, Neville! Wow, what a game!"

Hermione had practiced her excitement in the mirror that morning, and she was sure her eyes were alight. Neville looked surprised to see her, while Ron was glaring at the world.

"Hi, Hermione," Neville said back, offering a half smile. Ron just glared.

"It's a shame Harry wasn't able to play," Hermione said, "but wasn't it exciting? The Chasers seemed determined to cover for the lack of a seeker!"

Ron glared at her, as if she'd personally insulted him. Hermione fought the urge to flinch.

"It was quite intense," Neville agreed, as they fell into step with her. "I'm glad Gryffindor managed to put up a show."

"I couldn't quite keep track of what all was going on, of course," Hermione prattled on, "But the Gryffindors did seem to be trying very hard. Such a disappointment you lost. But it looked very-"

"What do you even care about sports?" Ron said abruptly, interrupting.

Hermione's eyes widened. "I-"

"You don't," Ron sneered. "You don't know anything about Quidditch, Hermione. You just think it's all fun and games, don't you?"

Even though she knew that Draco and his friends had been winding Ron up all during the game, his sudden venom still caught her off guard.

"I- Ron, it is just a game," Hermione said slowly. "That's what Quidditch is."

"It is not!" Ron yelled, and Hermione was startled to see him look so angry so fast. "It is not just a game!"

"Ron?" Neville looked alarmed. "Ron, what…?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Ron, I-"

"No, Hermione, you don't get it. You don't get anything! You don't get how important this game was to Gryffindor, and you don't get that this isn't a time where it's okay to be happy!"

"But Ron- I'm not in Gryffindor-"

"Right," Ron cut her off, sneering. "You're a stinking Slytherin. You're probably happy Gryffindor lost."

"What are you even talking about, Ron?"

"I'm talking about how you're over here, chatting with us like nothing's wrong!"

Ron seemed to have lost it, and Hermione could see out of the corner of her eye the professors coming down the stairs and looking over at the commotion.

"You pretend like you're our friend, and like you're one of us, but you're not! You're a scummy Slytherin, and you'll betray us in the end! You're probably happy Harry was in the Hospital Wing! You're not actually our friend! You don't belong with us! You don't even – you don't even belong here!"

Hermione recoiled. "I- what-"

"Even scummy Slytherins can follow Quidditch, but you don't even care that much," Ron snarled. "You don't even belong at Hogwarts! Hermione, just- just GO AWAY!"

The hatred on Ron's face was hot and raw, and the venom in his eyes as he glared at her was real.

"I- Ron-"

It was as she'd feared; Hermione didn't have to fake anything at all – she publicly dissolved into tear, with everyone able to see.

There was a rush of noise around her, but Hermione couldn't tell what was going on – her eyes were watery, and she was crying, rubbing her eyes and hiding her face in her hands. There was a loud explosion of noise around her, a sharp "Mr. Weasley!" from Professor McGonagall, and then a lot of yelling. Hermione ignored it, burying her face in her hands, her body shaking.

She didn't belong.

She wasn't a real friend.

She didn't have to pretend to cry – she was really crying, her body wracked by sobs. As cruel as his words had been, Ron had been right, Hermione thought. She was-

"It's okay, Hermione," a gentle voice interrupted her thoughts, and Hermione was surprised to realize it was Neville. "He didn't mean it."

"Yes, he did," Hermione objected, hiccoughing. "He hates me, just because I'm Slytherin."

"Well, I don't hate you, and Harry doesn't hate you," Neville said, awkwardly patting her back. "And- well, we're better friends with you than we are with Ron, anyway."

Hermione's mind screeched to a halt.

…What?

Hermione looked up at Neville through her tears. "…Really?"

"Really," Neville said, nodding. "You're nice to us, you helped us learn how to do homework, and you were there when we needed you. We wouldn't have survived that corridor without you, you know. Ron's…" Neville trailed off, uncertain. "…Ron's just jealous of you, maybe. That we like you better, even though you're in Slytherin."

They liked her better?

Her tears slowing now that Ron was no longer yelling at her, Hermione could see more clearly. Ron had been dragged off to the side, and to her surprise, so had a couple other Gryffindor boys and a few Slytherins. Both Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were standing there, towering over them. Professor McGonagall looked like she was scolding them all, furious, and Professor Snape's arms were folded ominously, as if he was just waiting his turn. All the students filing past were glancing at Hermione as she cried, and then looking at Ron, who was being yelled at by the professors, as they went back to the castle. Most of them were shooting Ron disgusted looks – even if they didn't know who he was, they could tell he'd made a first-year girl cry.

Mission accomplished, Hermione thought to herself, sniffling. Right?

Neville stiffened next to her, and hurriedly told her he had to go and rapidly scurried off. A moment later, the reason became clear – Professor Snape was approaching. Hermione looked up at him, and he looked down at her for a long moment, before producing a black handkerchief from his cloak and wordlessly handing it to her. Hermione took it, wiped her nose, and blew.

"You may have just lost us the House Cup," Snape remarked, his voice neutral.

Hermione looked up rapidly.

"What? How-?"

"You seem to inspire loyalty," Snape drawled. He gestured toward Ron, where Professor McGonagall was still dressing down a group of boys. "Some of your fellow Slytherins overheard Mister Weasley's remarks to you. They took exception to him saying such things about you."

Hermione wiped her eyes and peered over. To her surprise, Marcus Flint was there, along with Adrian Pucey and another boy she thought might be named Graham. They were glaring at Ron and two other Gryffindor boys who were with him – Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, Hermione recognized from her classes. The Gryffindor boys were glaring back defiantly, but the Slytherins… they looked murderous. And Seamus Finnegan very definitely looked like he had a broken nose.

"Professor McGonagall is taking points from everyone involved," Snape said. "Including your valiant defenders."

Hermione sniffed. "I'm sorry, sir."

For some reason, the thought of losing the House Cup now, on top of everything else, sent her dissolving into tears again, and Hermione blew her nose loudly into the handkerchief, trying her best not to cry. Snape looked very uncomfortable. He patted her back twice, then shot a dark look over at the group who had fought.

"Mr. Weasley is a fool," Snape said darkly. "You belong here more than he does, Miss Granger. Your aptitude for magic is second to none. And you are the top student of your year." He looked down at her, his tone softening. "Do not let his words touch you, Miss Granger. You are worth far more now than he will ever be worth."

Hermione nodded, wiping her eyes with a clean corner. "…T-thank you, sir."

She offered him the handkerchief, but Snape declined.

"Drop it in with the laundry; the castle will see it returned to me," he told her. He looked at here, somewhat sharply. "You are well?"

It was more a command than an inquiry, but Hermione nodded all the same. Snape nodded back at her before striding off toward the castle, following the trickle of others back in.

"…well, it worked."

Hermione turned to see Daphne, Draco, Theo, and Blaise, all of whom had hung back, waiting. They moved forward now, encircling her. Daphne patted her back gently, but Blaise shamelessly wrapped her in a tight hug for a long moment, earning a glare from Draco, before he let her go.

"It worked?" Hermione repeated, looking at Daphne.

"It definitely did," Theo said. "McGonagall docked him twenty points for fighting, and another twenty points for 'unbecoming conduct'. Everyone heard her do it as they walked by."

"More than that," Draco said, his eyes glinting, "Snape assigned him detention."

Hermione paused. "…Detention? The year is over."

"Detention," Draco repeated, smirking, "…during the Leaving Feast."

They all gasped, and Blaise and Draco started snickering.

"I've never ever heard of that," Theo said, his own smirk spreading across his face. "How does that work?"

"He's got it with Filch," Draco said, as they all started ambling across the grass, the last ones to head back toward the castle. "Merlin only knows what gross thing Filch will have him doing – hopefully cleaning the toilets without a wand…"

"Are you okay?" Daphne asked her quietly, and Hermione was struck by the concern in her voice. When had things changed so much that Daphne cared about her welfare? "Weasley said some pretty harsh things…"

"A lot of what he said was true, actually," Hermione said, sighing. "I am Slytherin. I was happy Gryffindor lost. And I did betray them, for this plan."

"You did no such thing," Draco said abruptly, turning. Hermione and Daphne both looked up at the sudden interruption – Hermione hadn't realized anyone else was listening.

"You did no such thing," Draco said again, fiercely. His eyes flashed. "Hermione, Weasley betrayed you, first. Any friendship you once had, he threw away and repeatedly stomped on. And you've not betrayed Longbottom or Potter – you risked your life, going with them to save them on their stupid quest."

Hermione nodded. "I- yes, but-"

"You only ever associate with Weasley if Potter and Longbottom are around, correct?" he continued. "They are your friends, Hermione. Weasley is not. He has not earned your friendship – and he has treated you poorly enough for us to mark him as your foe."

The others murmured their agreement as they entered the castle, leaving Hermione to quietly reflect on Draco's words.