Hermione Granger and the Half-Blood Prince

I've been searching deep down in my soul
Words that I'm hearing are starting to get old
It feels like I'm starting all over again
The last three years were just pretend
And I said:

Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything that I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to...

"Goodbye to You" Michelle Branch

**

Hermione never made it back to her dormitory.

She didn't know how long Ron could stay out snogging, but she didn't intend on finding out. She would find out if she sat miserably in the common room and she find out if she hid in her dormitory; Lavender was bound to come back, ready to give Parvati all of the hideously gory details. So Hermione had gone to the seventh-floor and stalked past a suspiciously blank wall three times, thinking I need a place to cry...

A door appeared and after a quick glance around to make sure that no one was there, Hermione slipped inside and looked around the room with utter relief. It was the exact replica of her bedroom back at home in Winterbourne: her four-poster bed, her roll-top desk, the two bookshelves stuffed full of books, the blue, yellow, and green throw rug on the floor--absolutely everything except for one major difference. Instead of the small window with the blue curtains, there was a gigantic French window complete with a long window seat with a dozen large comfy cushions. She always loved the window seat in her dormitory and wished she could have one at home so she could sit, read, and look up at the stars. Hermione let out a particularly loud blubber, grateful that no one was around to hear it. She never wanted more to be safe at home with her parents, away from magic and Voldemort and Ron.

Sniffling, Hermione grabbed the box of tissues that had appeared on the nightstand and collapsed onto the window seat, pausing to arrange the cushions into the perfect position so she could lean back comfortably and look out onto the grounds while cradling the tissues to her chest. She yanked one of the tissues free so she could furiously wipe her eyes. It seemed that like they would never cease to fall. She was going to be here a good, long time.

For what seemed like hours, Hermione just stayed still, staring bleakly out the window as she sobbed and sobbed, not even thinking about why she hurt so much. Dementors and that mysterious curse that Dolohov had used on her was nothing compared to this. Nothing could ever top this: no injury or affliction could surpass the torment of a broken heart. Hermione's fist started to pound lightly against one of the cushions. She and Ron had come so close and then he had to go and throw everything away.

She messily wiped her face again, crumpled the tissue, and tossed it onto the floor with the mound of discarded and used tissues that had accumulated dramatically over the past few hours. Her eyes felt like they were nearly swollen shut; perhaps her tear ducts had finally been dried out. Hermione didn't think any tears could leak out if they tried. Blearily, she stared out into the remarkably clear night. The stars were clearer than ever. Hermione had always loved to look up at the night sky; if she could have taken eight N.E.W.T. classes, she definitely would have kept taking Astronomy. Too bad that Astronomy wasn't required for a great deal of professions.

You're mad, she thought wearily to herself. Here you are, broken-hearted, and you can still sit here and think about classes. Hermione swallowed hard--her throat still felt very constricted and raw--and sank deeper into the pillows. Tears were still trickling out but at a much slower rate. Her entire body was sore from crying so fiercely for so long, but it couldn't compare the gnawing, empty ache that swelled painfully every time she breathed. Hermione didn't think it was ever going to away. She was just going to have to learn to live with the hollowness in her chest forever.

Logically, Hermione knew that there was a chance she would recover. She would move on, meet someone else, and probably be just as happy as she dreamed she could be with Ron. Only a select few were infinitely lucky enough to fall in love with their best friend; why should she be so arrogant to assume that she was one of them? Maybe she was more in love with the idea of falling in love with her best friend that Ron himself.

But Hermione imagined his eyes for one second and knew that it wasn't true. Even if she and Ron hadn't become best friends, she'd still love him. It may have taken her longer to discover the wonderful person that lay buried beneath the insensitive prat, but she would have. This wasn't just a passing fancy. This was love. She was seventeen years old and in love with a total prat who was off with some other girl.

Suddenly, the tranquil starry night was no longer so beautiful. Hermione rolled her head away from the window and received quite a surprise. "What are you doing?" she asked in a hoarse, almost unrecognizable voice.

"Wanted to see you," Ron said idly. He was lying on his side on her bed, his head propped up by his arm while his free hand fondled Bilius who lay blankly on his back in front of Ron. Ron's hand paused on the top of Bilius' head and with a twist, found that he could easily pull the ear straight off. He laughed once before chucking the ear casually away. "Funny how easy that was," he remarked.

"Yeah. Funny," Hermione said shortly. She supposed that normally, she would have been angrier if she wasn't already so mad at Ron. She didn't think she could be any angrier with him, or at least not while she was so tired. Perhaps tomorrow she could. "Why are you really here?"

"Don't you think I'd be worried about you?"

"Do you care?" Hermione returned coldly.

Ron considered for a minute. "No," he admitted blithely. "Not really." He slid off the bed and crossed over to the window seat. He took a seat on the edge of the sill next to Hermione's knee, taking care not to touch her in anyway and incur her wrath. "But I did have to see you."

For a second, he sounded like the Ron who had so valiantly taken care of her after the Ministry incident. Hermione's mind tipped drunkenly; she couldn't take being confused and conflicted. She just wanted to get him out of here. Hermione tried to sit up, but to her shock, she found that her arms couldn't move. In fact--Hermione tried to kick her leg to push Ron away from her but also failed--Hermione couldn't move anything below her neck. She was frozen; it was like she had been Petrified all over again. Her chest tightened fearfully. "Ron, I can't move," she whispered apprehensively.

He ignored her. His hand was running up and down her calf, but she couldn't do a thing to make him stop. "You know, I did really like you. I reckoned I could have loved you."

"Then why did you do it?" she asked tightly.

Ron shrugged. "You're just not pretty enough for me. I'm sorry."

Hermione turned her head so a curtain of hair could hide the moisture that had sprang up once again in her eyes. Ron might as well have broken a bottle of butterbeer and jammed it into her heart--it would have been a lot less painful. "Get out," she insisted under her breath. She really didn't have the strength to start yelling.

But Ron didn't get out. He scooted forward so he was level with her waist and grabbed her shoulders so she abruptly was forced into a stiff sitting position. Apparently, he was the only one who could move her. "No," he refused flatly before sliding one hand behind her head to ram his lips onto hers.

Fireworks exploded deep within her stomach. She wanted to squirm and get away because this was absolutely horrible of him to do this, but damn it, she couldn't move and part of her didn't want to. Ron was finally kissing her and from what she had observed earlier, he seemed to snog her a hell of a lot better than Lavender. Perhaps he would learn that the girl he chose to snog could affect his skills in the field.

It didn't last very long and Ron yanked back to stare straight into her eyes, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Have you ever tried to fly?"

"What?"

Ron lashed out one fist to shatter one of the panes of the beautiful window. The blow was so forceful that the entire window splintered into thousands of pieces and hurtled downward onto the dark grass below, where Hermione could see the fragments of glass twinkling ominously even at this great distance. A light wind whipped her hair into her eyes, and Ron, seeing that she couldn't move, tenderly brushed the strands out of her face. Hermione could only stare. Ron's behavior towards her had always been spastic, but this was a new record. He literally was wonderful one second and a complete utter prat the next. She was so confused that she actually felt physically ill.

"Have you ever tried to fly?" Ron repeated, nodding towards the open air.

"On a broom?" Hermione asked dazedly.

The wicked smile was back on his face. "No. No broom. Just you."

"What?"

Ron's hands were back on her shoulders. "Let's try to fly, shall we?"

"Are you mad?!" Hermione tried desperately to twist out of whatever weird spell had been placed on her, but to no avail. She was helpless in Ron's hands. "Are you trying to kill me?!"

"No," Ron said lightly before yanking Hermione back to taste her lips once again. She gasped into him as the kiss deepened, dragging her into a glorious sensation that she never had before, even when she had snogged Ron last April. It was like their souls were merging, twisting together so their lives would become one forever and ever. And although Hermione didn't want their souls to merge if he was going to share his life with her and stick his tongue repeatedly into Lavender, she couldn't pull away even if she wasn't paralyzed. This was magic.

She gasped again as she felt Ron being snatched away from her. Ron had pulled away from her, tantalizingly just out of reach. His hands slid up to cup both sides of her face. "I don't have to kill you like that." He raised his eyebrows towards the open window and the long fatal fall. His eyes flickered back to her and when he spoke again, his voice was full of infinite cruel pride. "I can just kill you with my eyes."

Hermione gulped. I know.

"But," Ron continued cruelly, "that doesn't mean I won't kill you like that." And without further ado, he released his right hand from her cheek so when he shoved Hermione's face with the left, there was nothing to catch her as she pitched straight out the open window and out into the cool night.

"No!" Hermione managed to get out before she fell with a painful thump onto the floor. She lifted her head to see the bright sunlight streaming through the window. With an exasperated sigh, Hermione yawned and rubbed her eyes wearily. She hadn't fallen out of bed--or a window seat--because of a nightmare since the hospital wing. Hermione had been cursed with that problem when she was a child and it was often attributed to particularly stressful times in her life. She sat up blearily and rubbed her eyes. At least she had made it through the night. Now she just had to get through today. And the next day. And the day after that--

Hermione shook her head and got to her feet, shaking her legs to kick out the kinks in her knees. She just had to take things slowly, one step at a time. The first step was to get dressed and get out of this room. She couldn't hide forever. The problem was clothing. Hermione looked down and wrinkled her nose at the horribly wrinkled shirt she was wearing. The jeans she had worn yesterday were relatively unscathed, but Hermione didn't even want to look at how awful her hair must be. She would just have to hurry back to the tower and hope that no one saw the state she was in. Hermione turned back towards her bed and smiled wanly when she saw the moss green shirt that had magically appeared in the mattress. The magic of the Room of Requirement had yet to wear off.

She whipped off the dirty shirt and pulled on the clean one. Hermione debated bringing the scarlet jumper she had been wearing back to the dormitory, but on second thought, she left it in a ball on the floor. She didn't think she was ever going to wear that jumper ever again. Running her fingers through her wild hair, Hermione sat down on the bed, wondering what to do next. She supposed it wouldn't be too awful if she lingered in here for a bit longer. But the memory of the mounds of homework awaiting her spurned Hermione to bravely get to her feet. She prided herself on being one of those girls who did not fall apart because of some boy. Life would go on without Ron by her side.

A quick glance at her watch told her that she had slept much later than usual, missing breakfast and a few precious hours of prime studying time, when the library was emptier and thereby devoid of distractions. If she was going to move on with her life, she needed to get out of here. Hiding forever wasn't going to solve anything. With a deep breath, Hermione smoothed her hair one more time and with one final look around the comforting room, she opened the door and returned back to the harsh corridors of reality.

**

"There you are!" Ginny Weasley leapt out of her armchair by the fire the moment she saw Hermione gloomily enter the common room. She grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her straight to the sanctity of the girls' dormitory. "My roommates are all downstairs so we can talk in my room," Ginny informed her as they reached the second highest dormitory. The door opened to reveal a room that was almost exactly like the sixth-years dormitory except there were three more beds--Gryffindor sixth-year had the smallest number of girls in the entire school--and a greater number of Quidditch posters adorning the walls. Ginny's bed was the one nearest to the door and both she and Hermione dropped down on the bed. "So, how are you?" Ginny asked point-blank.

Hermione shrugged ambivalently. She really wasn't ready to talk about this.

Ginny looked closely at Hermione's eyes. They were still rather bloodshot and swollen. "When did you come back last night?--I waited for ages."

"I didn't," Hermione answered hoarsely.

"You stayed out all night?" Hermione nodded in response. Ginny let out a long breath. "No wonder you look exhausted. You should go back to bed."

"No," Hermione refused. "I slept in the Room of Requirement--I'm fine."

"Do you want to talk--"

"No."

Ginny promptly slid off of her bed. "Okay, then. Let's get started. No, no--" She waved her hand at Hermione to stop her from also getting up. "--stay there." Flipping open her trunk, she pulled out a brush and a bottle of Sleekeazy Potion.

"You have some too?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"Oh yeah." She tossed back her long hair with a teasingly cocky smile. "Do you really think that this looks so good without some help." Hermione laughed weakly while Ginny gestured towards Hermione with a twirling finger. "Turn around," Ginny ordered.

Hermione complied and Ginny knelt on her trunk so she could run the brush through the wild tangle of hair. From the glimpse Hermione had caught in the mirror, Hermione would have thought there was no hope for saving it, but this was Ginny. Ginny had been the one who had managed to twist her hair so sleekly and elegantly into the chic knot she had worn for the Yule Ball; if Ginny couldn't do it, nobody could. A few moments of peaceful silence settled over the room as Ginny gently eased the brush through the hair so the kinks and knots were soothingly untangled. Hermione picked at the comforter, feeling more rested than she had in what seemed like a million years although she logically knew it had only been twenty-four hours. "And why are we doing this?" Hermione finally asked.

Dropping the brush on the mattress, Ginny hopped off the trunk so she could go around the bed to inspect Hermione's hair from the front. "We're making you look smashing," Ginny explained finally as she nodded in approval. "But I think we still need a little of this," she added as she returned to retrieve the hair potion.

"I don't want to take your potion," Hermione tried to protest.

Ginny just snorted in reply. "Mum gets me tons of it--I don't care." Carefully, Ginny poured a small dollop in her palm and rubbed her hands together to spread the thick liquid evenly over her hands. "And I think if we put just this much--" Ginny ran her fingers through Hermione's hair repeatedly until the hateful frizz had dissipated but Hermione's pretty natural wave remained. "Perfect." Once again, Ginny hopped off the trunk to inspect Hermione's hair from the front. Anticipating this, Hermione tried to twist around so Ginny didn't have to move, but Ginny flapped her hand impatiently at her again. "No, no, stay still. We're almost done." Critically, Ginny examined Hermione's hair and reached out to twist it up experimentally. "And I think if we just do this--" She deftly coiled it into a low flat bun and while holding it into place, she pulled loose a few strategically placed long wavy strands to frame Hermione's face. Ginny stepped back as far as possible to examine the effect from afar while still holding Hermione's hair in place. "Perfect," she repeated gleefully. She gestured for Hermione to take over for her; Hermione complied and held the bun in place. Ginny went to the nightstand to grab a handful of bobby pins and a hair tie before returning to her position behind Hermione. Her fingers came back up to cup Hermione's hair into place. "Okay, I got it."

Hermione dropped her hold and once again, they lapsed into silence while Ginny worked tirelessly to contain Hermione's hair. The tricky thing about Hermione's hair was that you could put it up and it looked fantastic, but then in twenty minutes, it was already falling out or a million little frizzies were standing up on the top of Hermione's head. That was the reason why Hermione often wore her hair down; she would rather have hair be consistently okay rather than fantastic for a few minutes before increasingly worsening throughout the day.

She let out a soft exhale. She was so intent on not talking about Ron that she was forcing herself to think about her hair. That's how stubborn she was. Hermione picked at the comforter once again, keeping her head as still as possible to not mess up Ginny's efforts. They couldn't avoid this subject forever. "So have you seen Ron yet?"

"I saw him right before he went up to bed." Ginny snickered. "You really got him good with those birds."

"Is he all right?" Hermione couldn't help asking.

"Oh, yeah, Fred and George do worse to him all the time," Ginny reassured absently. "Anyway, Harry just Banished the birds outside right after you left. All the windows have protective charms on them so they couldn't get back in before your spell wore off. Then Lavender came in and of course lost it when she saw what you did and made Ron go up to hospital so the good news is that Ron was in such a foul mood that they didn't get to snog anymore." She stuck another bobby pin in Hermione's hair. "The bad news is that Lavender will probably kill you the next time she sees you so it was a good thing you didn't go back last night."

"She will anyway," Hermione said dismissively. "If Ron doesn't kill me first."

"Ron would never kill you," Ginny said softly. Hermione's nightmare flashed in her mind; she wasn't so sure about that. Apprehensively, Ginny returned one final time in front of Hermione, but not to look at her hair. "And I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything. What he did to you. That you feel this way." Ginny flinched expectantly, bracing herself for a reaction. "For sending Ron into the classroom."

Hermione looked at Ginny with surprise. "You sent Ron out there?"

Ginny sat down on the mattress appealingly. "I didn't see you come in. I had just seen Ron doing--that--with Lavender and was trying to think of a way to stop it when Harry came up. I got away as fast I could--I didn't want Harry to know what I was doing and I saw him leave and I didn't know why--I didn't think that it was because you had just come in--although I should have known." Ginny shook her head to keep herself from babbling. "Anyway, I finally got a hold of some Cauldron Cakes and threw them at Ron to break it up. He of course started shouting that if I could snog Dean in front of everyone, he could too. So I said fine, let's get Dean over here so you can carry on. He called me something that I don't care to repeat, I said okay maybe that wouldn't be a good idea, so instead I'll call Dean over here and we'll all have one big happy songfest--Mum would be pleased that we were spending family bonding time--and kept it up until Ron got fed up and left with Lavender."

"Oh." She traced her finger absently over the comforter again. "I wondered why he decided to come out there," Hermione said with false lightness.

Ginny abruptly reached out to give Hermione a comforting hug that irrationally made Hermione want to start crying all over again. "It won't last," Ginny whispered firmly. "It won't. He's just confused, but he'll work through it, I swear. You know Ron always comes through in the end. Don't give up. He'll come back. You just have to give it some time."

"I know," Hermione barely got out before having to sniff hard and blink rapidly.

After a few more seconds, Ginny pulled away with a parting pat on the back and another critical look at Hermione's appearance. "And you're all set to go." She pointed over to the mirror. "Go take a look."

Hermione slid off the bed to examine her reflection. Her hair did look really nice: the purposefully messy bun made appear as though she had spent no time on her hair, just absently twisting it up, but she was so gorgeous that no matter how her hair was, it still looked fantastic. The only thing was her eyes, which still looked rather bloodshot. She also was still a little wan and peaky-looking. Hermione pinched her cheeks in an attempt to get some color on her face. Maybe some light makeup would be in order. "And why do I need to look smashing?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Ron needs to know what he's missing," Ginny explained stoutly. "You don't want him to know how upset you are, do you?" Hermione shook her head. "So you need to go down there, looking fantastic, and study as if nothing's happened. You told me that if I wanted Harry to notice me, I was going to have to act like myself. So you need to do the same. Right?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed. She pulled down the hem of her shirt and raised her chin high as if she was stalking past Ron. "I do have loads of homework."

With a smile, Ginny nodded. It was good to see the old Hermione again. "Okay, so you go get your books and I'll go make sure he's not downstairs. If he is, I'll run interference for you so you can get to the library. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect."

**

The perfect plan had a major flaw. Ginny hadn't needed to run interference for Hermione; Ron Weasley was brazenly sitting in the library, in clear view of anyone who walked into the door, his arm wrapped around the back of Lavender Brown's chair. He was studying Lavender's eyes much more than the book in front of him. Good, Hermione thought with a scowl. She hoped he would get really horrible marks on that assignment. That would teach him.

With her head high and eyes riveted to a small table near the restricted section, Hermione briskly wove through the tables and bookshelves and slammed her bag down louder than necessary. She didn't even look to see if Ron had noticed her arrival. He must have sat at that table on purpose. He usually liked to sit in the back of the library so he could talk without incurring the wrath of Madame Pince. He must have wanted someone to see him with his new girlfriend and Hermione couldn't help thinking that that person was her. She repositioned her chair so her back was to Ron and sat down. Nothing was going to defer her from her lessons.

Her determination to ignore Ron only lasted for about twenty minutes. Lavender had started to giggle, whispering 'Ronnie, stop it!' which was putting horrible mental images in Hermione's head that she knew couldn't be true: even Ron didn't have the nerve to do that in a library. But still, Hermione had to twist around to reassure herself that she was wrong. She was: Ron had simply started to tickle Lavender, nuzzling her neck with his nose in an attempt to keep her from studying. Hermione practically gagged. If this was how Ron acted with his girlfriends, perhaps she was better off without him.

She wanted to shush them and tell them off for distracting her: that's what she would have done if it was anyone else. But her voice caught in a thick choking lump in her throat and instead, she lowered her eyes and returned to her Arithmancy book. She couldn't say a word. Ron had shut her up for good.

With a sharp scrape, Hermione shoved her chair back and retreated behind a bookshelf so she could clap a hand over her mouth and close her eyes. Get a grip, she repeated to herself over and over again. She couldn't be reduced to a mute forlorn little girl at the mere sight of him. She wasn't that type of girl. Hermione Granger was stronger than this. So why didn't she feel very strong?

Hermione abruptly grabbed the first book she saw to give herself a reason for being here. She was strong. She wasn't going to let this overwhelm her. Flipping open the book idly, Hermione pretended to be completely engrossed in the text as she returned to her chair so she wouldn't have to look in Ron's direction. However, she couldn't help herself from taking a quick peak in Ron's direction. What she saw made her stop dead. Ron had gone. Lavender too. In the short minutes she had spent getting control of herself, Ron had left the library probably so he could go somewhere more private and partake in more intimate activities. She should feel disgusted and hurt, but strangely Hermione didn't. Somehow, deep within her, she knew why Ron really had left. Yes, perhaps he was going to go snog Lavender, but he had really left because he had looked in Hermione's direction, seen her, knew she was hurting, and left to give her some short-lived peace of mind. He knew it was killing her to watch him and Lavender together. He had left to save her from some mental anguish. The injured broken-hearted girl inside Hermione screamed in protest, but Hermione swallowed that fury down. There was plenty of time to be furious with Ron in the days to come. Just for right now, Hermione just sent Ron a silent thank you for being somewhat considerate of her feelings and settled down to finish her homework.

**

In the past few years, Hermione and Ron had developed a long set of unspoken rules that they followed steadfastly in order to prevent themselves from slipping into more-than-friendly territory. It took ages to fine-tune these rules, but this year, they had slowly and surely been defying those rules. Ever since Hermione had rebelled against them one night in April and practically told Ron that if he opened his eyes and read what she had written to him for his birthday, he would know everything about how she felt, they both had steadily rebelled. Ron must have read the book after all and just not known what to do about it. He must have realized that she fancied him and slowly gained enough confidence to show her that he returned her affections. The rules had been broken and together, Ron and Hermione began to explore the glorious possibility of being more than just friends.

But now all of that had changed. In record time, Hermione and Ron had written a new set of unspoken rules: the rules that outlined how they were going to stubbornly ignore each other for the rest of their lives. It soon became understood that the library was strictly Hermione's territory. Ron could come in to retrieve a needed book, of course, but he couldn't study in there. In return, Hermione would restrain herself from spending too much time in the common room so Ron was free to fraternize with Lavender as much as he liked. They would not sit with each other at any meal or in the common room or any other free social time. To make sure that Harry wouldn't feel torn between his two friends--as Hermione had in fourth-year--Hermione made sure she stayed as busy as possible during the day so she never really saw Harry during free times and meals so he could spend time with Ron. Evenings were prime snogging time, which soon became Ron's favorite activity so he was always occupied at night--except when he had Quidditch practice--thereby giving Hermione time with Harry. It rather felt like some insane custody battle after a messy divorce, but Hermione had to admit that it worked well. Harry looked miserable and remained silent whenever Hermione would bring up Ron in conversation, but there wasn't any other way around it: she and Ron simply couldn't be together anymore.

Of course, they had to spend some time together, but they managed to work that out too. In class, they continued to sit in their same seats to make Harry feel comfortable. They would speak to each other if absolutely necessary, but only in short, compulsory terse sentences. Only the required information would be relayed and that was it. This rule also carried over to prefect meetings and patrolling. Some patrols were actually carried out in complete silence, but somehow it worked. That's all that mattered. It made life somewhat bearable and enabled Hermione to survive.

But even the best laid-plans had small errors that potentially could cause the entire foundation could disintegrate. The biggest problem that arose from these new rules was that it never allowed Hermione to vent her frustration. By never speaking to Ron, she never got to tell him how hideous she thought he was. After about a week of mourning, Hermione's grief had slowly evolved into a burning fury that longed to be unleashed onto the deserving party. The grief was still there--her heart would forever be aching--but at times, Hermione was just so angry, especially when Ron carelessly would thrash about with Lavender in the middle of the common room. He had hurt her so horribly and got to repeatedly snog a pretty girl over and over again. He was so bloody happy. He laughed at everything, even things that normally would have made him livid or secretly jealous. Ron was floating on cloud nine now and it just wasn't fair. He was the one to act hatefully and was rewarded while she was left alone and miserable. She was able to vent some of her fury to Harry and Ginny--whether they asked for it or not--but it wasn't enough. Ron needed to know how much he had hurt her.

Harry was another issue. Anyone could tell just by looking at him that he absolutely detested what was happening to his two best friends. Hermione couldn't help feeling really guilty at times; Harry needed all the friends he could get right now and here she was denying him of his two best friends in the world. It made her feel sick inside.

But it was something else entirely that ended up spurning an uprising against Hermione and Ron's new relationship--or rather, lack of relationship. Surprisingly, it wasn't Hermione who summoned up the courage to rebel like the last time. It was Ron.

It was the first day of December when the rebellion occurred. Hermione had made it through the entire month of November without Ron and all that was keeping her going was the knowledge that in a few weeks, she would be able to go home for Christmas and be away from all of this for a little while. She felt if she could carry on until Christmas, the holidays would somehow give her the fortitude to get through the rest of the year. But that was before she arrived at the prefect meeting on that December day to find Ron already there, sitting on the desk he always sat at with his feet on the chair. He was bent forward, jaw clenched as it had when he had bravely faced the gigantic white queen. He straightened up the moment he saw her. Hermione froze the second she entered the room, her heart abruptly pounding away in her chest. He knew perfectly well that she always arrived ten minutes early to prefect meetings so Ron would always be the last one to arrive. This was in blatant violation of the rules. He had done this on purpose. Everything was about to be changed.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked warily. It felt really odd to be talking him so informally again. Of course, it was making her heart well up since she bloody missed him so much, but she wouldn't let that overcome her now.

Ron just shrugged. He looked rather odd himself; his jaw was still clenched tensely, his eyes were hard, and his fists were balled tightly, one set of knuckles absently mashing into the desktop. It was the first time since he hooked up with Lavender that she had seen him actually look angry about something. Her natural instinct was of course to go over and ask what was wrong and if there was anything she could do, but with a quick swallow, she was able to cross over to her usual seat next to Ron, pointedly pulling the chair away a few inches from him. She wasn't about to let Ron interfere with her typical routine. Pulling out her Defense textbook, Hermione opened it to the chapter they were studying and stoically began to reread the text. She would just have to pretend that Ron wasn't here.

But Ron was in such a foul mood that he was intent on rebellion. Hermione felt him staring at her for a few seconds before clearing this throat hoarsely to attract her attention. "Lavender and I had a row," Ron grunted out.

SLAM. Hermione viciously banged her book down onto the table and got up to leave. She didn't care if she missed the meeting; she had to get as far away from Ron as possible. "Hey!" Ron yelped, startled by the loud noise. "Where are you going?"

"Away. I don't want to be anywhere near you," she said shortly.

Ron hopped off the desk so quickly that Hermione wasted precious time blinking with surprise. She never knew someone Ron's height could be so nimble. "Why? What d'you think I'm going to do? Bite you?"

You wish, Hermione thought snidely as she gave him a withering glare and attempted once again to make a hasty exit. But anticipating her next move, Ron had already reached out and grabbed her arm. "If one of us shouldn't want to be alone with the other, it's me," Ron snapped before Hermione could tell him to let go of her. He brandished his free hand in her face so she could see the dim purple scratches and welts that still scarred his hands. "Remember these?"

"Yes," Hermione said coldly. "I rather like them." She looked pointedly down at his fingers on her arm. "May I go now?"

"No." To her shock, Ron pulled her back into her chair, falling into the chair next to her. Apparently, he wanted to talk which was simply out of the question.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Merlin, would you just shut up for a minute?" Ron almost wailed. "I actually have to ask you something, so could just forget that you hate me for one minute?!"

"I am not going to discuss your love life with you!" Hermione refused vehemently.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Like I'd want to," he muttered. A pang of regretful fury stabbed her chest and Hermione tried to yank her arm free. Once upon time, he would have discussed his love life with her: because she was his love life. Ron resolutely held on to her and glanced over his shoulder to make sure no other prefects had arrived yet. "I got a letter from home" he said loudly.

"Goody," Hermione spat out.

"Well, you know Mum wants Ginny and me home for Christmas and got permission for Harry to come too," Ron continued as though she hadn't said a word.

"Yippee," Hermione exclaimed sarcastically, complete with a mocking raise of her fist.

He was starting to look more than a little annoyed with her interjections, but he forged ahead. "And of course she invited you."

He looked at her expectantly. Hermione just stared back. "And?" she barked.

"Well--do you want to come?"

Hermione leapt up so quickly and roughly that there was no hope of Ron clinging on. How stupid could Ron be? Was that the real reason he was here? He was absolutely unbelievable. Hermione let out an infinitely frustrated 'ooh!' and glared at him with all of her might. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, how dare you?!"

Wow, that felt amazing. It was rather surprising that it felt good to yell at someone, but this was Ron. Rowing was part of their nature. It had somehow become an essential part of her life. She missed it as much as she missed Ron himself. She had to do it more often--starting right now. "Do you honestly think that we can go three weeks without saying a single word to each other and suddenly I'm going to hold hands and skip home with you and sing carols around the fire with you and your family for Christmas?! You're mad!"

Ron stared blankly down at the desk. "So you're still hacked off with me."

"Of course I'm still angry!" Hermione shouted back at him, her cheeks turning beet red. "Ron, you promised to go to Slughorn's party with me and then go behind my back and start snogging Lavender all the time! That doesn't just go away after a few weeks!"

"Oh, please," Ron sneered, finally starting to allow himself to get really angry. "You didn't ask me to Slughorn's party because of--that!"

Hermione's hands flew to her hips "Oh really? And just why did I ask you, if you're such an expert on my innermost workings of my mind?"

"Damn it, Hermione!" Ron exploded, smacking his hand on the desktop in infinite frustration. "I know!

"Know what?!"

He jabbed an irate finger at her to make himself perfectly clear. "I am not your charity case, you hear me?!"

She actually did a genuine double-take; she thought people only did those in movies. "Where on earth did that come from?!" Hermione shouted in irate bewilderment. That was the second time he had said that to her and it hurt just as much to hear it the second time. "And how can you even think that?!" Hermione screamed. "I did not ask you because I think you're worthless!"

Ron flinched as though she had just shouted at him that she did think he was useless, but his ugly scowl remained etched furiously into his face. "You just asked me because you felt sorry for me because I never got asked to the stupid Slug Club so you wanted to help me out and invite me so I could see for myself what they're really like, didn't you?!"

"No!" Hermione shot back hotly although admittedly that was going to be her excuse for her invitation if he started to act edgy about going on a date with her. "I would never do that! I asked you because--" She broke off and took a step back to calm herself, her vocal cords trembling in her throat. As much as she needed to vent this frustration onto him, she couldn't admit this out loud yet. Not when she was still slowly and fumblingly attempting to recover from that November night. "You don't deserve to know why I asked you!" she finally informed him with a haughty flip of her hair. "You don't deserve anything from me!"

"Fine!" Ron retorted. "Because I don't want anything from you!"

"Good!" Hermione returned. "Because you aren't getting anything from me ever again!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Loud, mocking applause echoed throughout the room.

"That was--" Pansy Parkinson trailed off, trying to find the right words as she unloaded her school supplies onto the Slytherin table. Malfoy silently followed her, probably searching for the best retort. Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil and the Ravenclaw fifth-year prefects followed, all giving Ron and Hermione curious looks. Only the Gryffindors were treated to witnessing rows such as these on a regular basis. Pansy turned to Draco for guidance. "What's the word I'm looking for, Draco?"

"Appallingly amusing."

"That's the one," Pansy confirmed cheerfully.

"That's two words, you twit," Hermione pointed out coldly as she fought to breathe normally. As always, rows with Ron kept her completely breathless.

"Watch who you call a twit, Granger," Malfoy warned as he put his arm around the back of Pansy's chair to flaunt that even a concussed troll like Pansy could get a boyfriend while she, the brightest girl in school, couldn't even get the biggest prat at Hogwarts to fancy her.

Ordinarily, Hermione would have controlled herself and just ignored him, but the boiling fury was still pumping violently through her veins so she turned towards the other prefects--Demelza, Colin, the fifth-year Hufflepuffs, and the seventh-year Ravenclaws and Slytherins had all wandered into the room, either immediately intrigued or annoyed by the bickering between the Gryffindor and Slytherin sixth-years. Quarreling amongst those four prefects was a common occurrence. "Did you all know that I once hit Draco? It was fantastic." Her fist balled up tightly. "Anyone fancy seeing it again?"

Demelza let out a particularly loud whoop of approval as other prefects more quietly showed their support. Malfoy climbed to his feet, holding himself up with the back of Pansy's chair. "Try it, Granger--I dare you," he hissed.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond that she bloody well would dare, but that was when the corner of a schoolbag rammed into her back. "Ow!" she protested as she turned to see that Ron had just finished slinging his bag over his shoulder and pushing past her to make his way down the center aisle. "Where are you going?" she demanded.

"Tell Kira I'm sick," Ron snarled furiously, his ears a hot, pulsating red and his fists also clenched into tight balls that were just itching to ram into someone's nose. He almost ran straight into Ernie Macmillan who was just arriving for meeting.

Sick in the head, Hermione longed to yell back at him, but that would be dreadfully immature. Although, she had already acted quite childishly in front of a large group of people. She began to blush in embarrassment. She really hoped Professor McGonagall wouldn't choose today to observe their prefect meeting. "Fine!" she answered tersely as she banged back down in her chair, turning her back on Ron. She didn't need Ron to help her with prefect duties; she could handle it on her own. He really was an awful prefect anyway. She'd be better off without him.

"Oh come on, Weasley, take the Mudblood with you, she's smelling up the whole room." Malfoy pretended to gag loudly on some horrendous odor and waved his hand in front of nose to dissipate the stench. Pansy shrieked with caustic laughter that rapidly turned to an outraged squeal when Colin and Ernie both charged, shouting at Malfoy to take it back. Now that the war was raging on, most people were much more sensitive to offensive slurs these days. Demelza, Anthony, and Padma all swiftly moved in to intervene before the Head Boy and Girl could arrive and find a full-out brawl in their prefect meeting room. Others chose to shout out their own criticisms of Malfoy or even defend him; it wasn't only Slytherins who believed purebloods were vastly superior to all other wizards; a lanky seventh-year Hufflepuff boy and small but feisty fifth-year Ravenclaw girl were voicing their complete agreement with Malfoy's philosophy.

In fact, the only two people who weren't involved in the mass argument were Ron and Hermione. As soon as the word 'Mudblood' had been uttered, Hermione had gotten to her feet and her hand had jerked compulsively towards Ron to stop him from doing whatever he was going to do to get Malfoy back. But she needn't had worried. Ron also twitched instinctively, whirling around to retaliate, but with a grim swallow, a long look at Malfoy, and an even longer look at Hermione, he turned his back on the scene and left the room. He only returned a few seconds later to hastily whisper loudly that the Head Girl and Boy were coming before exiting once again. Everyone hurriedly scrambled back to their normal seats and somehow all managed to sit down and catch their breaths before Kira Fowler of Ravenclaw and Randall Darcy of Slytherin arrived, looking slightly suspicious but not saying a word except that the meeting was now in session.

Hermione slowly sat back down, not really hearing what was happening around her. Ron hadn't defended her. Not that she needed him to defend her, of course, but if he hadn't even tried--her heart squeezed so tightly that she momentarily choked herself--it really was over between them.

"Hermione?"

She looked up from the tabletop dazedly. "What?"

Kira looked rather annoyed; she must have called for Hermione more than once before getting a response. "I asked if you know when Ron would be joining us."

"He won't. He left," Hermione said automatically before faking a small smile. "He's not feeling well."

Kira gave her an exasperated but concerned look. "Fine," she said briskly. "Let's carry on then..."

Hermione didn't hear another word of the meeting. She was too intent on keeping from crying while her own words echoed hauntingly in her head: He left...