Ron Weasley paced the corridors of the school, thoughts racing fiercely through his mind. He honestly did not like Hermione like he used to; while he still wanted to pursue a friendship with her, all feelings of physical and dating attraction had escaped him. Now, he only wanted to find a way to have her back in his and Harry’s life.

“I thought you were angry with her,” Harry pointed out.

“And you’re not?”

“Of course I am … she’s with the lowest of the low, and it’s a disgrace. I can’t believe she did that to us …”

“But it wasn’t intended to hurt us,” Ron sighed. “I'm starting to think like a girl, and it hurts.”

Harry looked at him oddly.

“It’s just …” Ron tried to explain, but failed. “It’s just … I try to see things from her perspective; you know … to see what she’s thinking. I'm hoping it will stop some of the fights.”

Harry watched Ron, and then shrugged his shoulders. “Good luck. You have more will power than me. As long as she’s with him, I'm done with her.”

….

“You wanted to see me?” Hermione asked, sitting down next to Draco by the lake. It had started to warm up some outside, but not by much. There was still a chill in the air and the wind made everything seem colder. Hermione pulled her jacket around her tighter.

“Yeah I just wanted to see how you were.”

“I'm … er … good. Are you sure that’s all you wanted?”

“Oh, that and … I wanted to tell you that you’re amazing, and I love having you in my life … And I wanted to make sure you’d be cheering me on at the game tonight.”

She blushed. “Of course I will.”

He hugged her, got up, and headed to the practice field. However, as he left, a small, folded up letter remained. Hermione called out to him, but he was to far away to hear. Feeling slightly guilty, she opened it.

Draco,
Where are you? I talked to Severus and he says that you are not at the school. If you do not return within three days I will come for you. Don’t bother writing me back. I do not want to hear your excuses.
- Lucius

She check the postmark to find it had been addressed a couple of days before Christmas. She crumpled it up and went to find Draco.

….

“Explain it!” she cried, thrusting it into his lap.

His face turned white. “Where’d you get this?”

“You left it by the lake! You never told your father you were coming to my house, did you?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No … I didn’t. I just couldn’t, Hermione.”

“You told me that if I told my friends, you’d tell your father,” she reminded him though gritted teeth. “You promised me!”

“I'm sorry … All right? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn’t want to tell you, because I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“Just tell me something … and if the answer is no, then we’ll be all right. Be honest with me, Draco. Did … Hagrid getting hurt … Did it have anything to do with you? Tell me that it didn’t!” she pleaded.

He bit his lip, and then sighed. His eyes met hers and they told her the truth.

“I can’t believe it,” she gasped, crying now. “I can’t believe you lied to me for this long. How am I ever supposed to trust you again? I gave you everything, Draco … I gave up my friends for you! And for what? For you to go behind my back, lie to me, and hurt my friend. I can’t deal with this. I can’t deal with you. We’re over.”

She left, slamming the locker room door behind her.

He wrapped a towel around his neck, sat back, and smiled, satisfied with his work.