Never Yours

A/N: Thank you to all of the wonderful people that reviewed chapter 6! I read each and every one of my reviews and they're all special to me. Well, I wanted to update Friday night, but I was busier than I expected, so here's chapter 7 now. Heh, technically it's not Saturday night anymore…it's Sunday morning, but what does that matter, right?

& - 7

Hermione didn't know what to do or even what to think.

She stood there in the midst of the downpour, staring ahead of her as she thought of what to do next.

Her light brown eyes scanned the practically empty street around her, and they eventually landed on the winding path that led into Knockturn Alley. For what came to be ten or so seconds Hermione stared at the dark, dreary-looking entrance to the Alley, and the thoughts of the other night poured into her mind like the rain poured around her.

She still remembered each laugh - each taunt, the tremendous pain of having that large man squeeze her dainty wrist till point of which she'd thought he'd break it, and she'd never forget being pushed to the floor, landing on the filthy, grimy muck of the littered streets.

A shudder ran its course through her, causing her to wrap her arms tighter around herself, and as she glared at the entrance of Knockturn Alley she made a decision.

With brave steps she started in the direction of Knockturn Alley, forcing herself to remain cool and calm.

She wasn't going to be scared anymore; she wasn't going to be pitiable and let that indescribable helpless feeling consume her any longer.

Hermione crossed from Diagon and entered Knockturn, the change in scenery and atmosphere changing instantly. She couldn't help looking up at the Knockturn Alley sign, and she paused slightly as her eyes left the sign and landed just across the street where she'd been attacked right by that dumpster.

She hadn't realized she had stopped walking and stood there staring at the spot she'd never forget for the rest of her life.

A gusty, whistling wind blew, sending ripples through her long, wet cloak and blowing a few strands of hair into her face.

She pulled her cloak even tighter around herself and fixed the hood so that it hung down, covering some of her face. She certainly didn't want to be recognized.

All right. Now where would I find Draco Malfoy? She pondered, staring around at the various pubs, shops and motels.

Knockturn sure had more pubs and motels than Diagon.

She decided to try the first pub on her right, called Ahab's Tavern. She pushed the chipped wooden door open and the immediate stench of liquor and smoke met her nostrils. She coughed as she stood there in the doorway, holding the door open as she quickly scanned the room for Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy wasn't here. She didn't see a tall, thin man with sleeked back hair the whitest shade of blonde you'd ever see.

“You're letting all the cold in! Shut the sodding door!” grumbled a porky man from one of the tables. He had a patch over one eye and an abnormally round nose, like a pigs snout. He released puffs of thick, gray smoke as he held his cigar in one hand and his bottle of liquor in the other.

Hermione jumped at the commanding voice and she forgot all about being brave as she quickly did as the man asked; she stepped out of the doorway and let the door swing shut.

She stood there, breathless from her heart's incessant thumping and she realized she couldn't handle this.

That was him, she thought with a gulping swallow. That was one of the wizards that attacked me. That was the man that…

Her thoughts trailed off there as her deep, deep vulnerability washed over her again, and she turned around and started hurrying back down the sidewalk at a light jog.

What had she been thinking? Did she really think she could have actually had a civilized conversation with Draco Malfoy?

She passed the dumpster she'd been attacked by, right beside some inexpensive-looking motel, and she couldn't feel more relieved as she made it to the end of Knockturn.

It was all right. Nothing terrifying was going to happen to her. Not this time.

“I thought I told you to never step foot in here again, Granger?”

Hermione spun around, to find herself but a few feet from the very person she'd been in search of.

“Malfoy,” she whispered below her breath. She took a few steps towards him. “I - I need to talk with you.”

Malfoy had his arms folded and he was looking at her with that mock amusement he always had. It felt like, for a brief second, they were fourteen again and he was going to start teasing her about her bushy hair.

“Well, Granger if I were sitting down you'd now have me on the edge of my seat with curiosity,” he mocked, “I simply must know what you, a foolish Mudblood, has to tell me!”

Hermione stopped herself from insulting him right back. They weren't sixteen anymore and there were more important matters at hand.

“Malfoy, I need you to tell me what Harry said to you.”

He looked even more amused as he leaned against the brick wall of some shop.

“Why would I ever tell you that, Granger? What goes on between Potter and me isn't your business, now is it?” he replied coolly.

“It's important. Did you tell him who - who they were. I have to know! Please tell me,” she said with hints of sincerity in her voice.

“Aw, does Granger think Potter's going to do something completely stupid and get himself into a spot of trouble?” Draco asked sneeringly, in pretend sympathy.

Hermione was beginning to think this was hopeless. She had no idea what to say to Malfoy to get him to tell her what she wanted; she wondered if Harry had even been able to, though unlike Harry she wasn't the type to threaten one for information.

“Malfoy, I know you don't like me. In fact, you hate me, which is why I still can't figure out why you'd ever help me like you did the other night,” Hermione said earnestly, “But now I need you to help me again. Will you?”

He sneered. “Granger, for being a bothersome know-it-all you're an idiot.”

“Oh really? And may I ask why?”

“If you're looking for the people that roughened you up look around you. Take your pick of neurotic, drunken wizards and witches. There's dozens,” he said vaguely, “I told Potter the exact same, and you're both idiots for thinking I'd ever give you their names. Now, Mudblood Granger, before you do end up tortured or killed, why don't you get out of here?”

Hermione's posture straightened and it looked as if she were going to keep grilling him for answers, and she was until she decided he wouldn't give them to her. This was Malfoy, whom was she kidding?

She successfully crossed the thin junction between Knockturn and Diagon, unwrapping her arms from herself, as she immediately felt at least a little safer now that she was in Diagon.

Do I dare go to Harry's flat? What if - What if he and Ginny are still…'chatting'? No, I'm going and I'm not going to purposely intrude on their conversation…I'm going to speak with Harry about Malfoy, that's all.

Perhaps going to Harry's flat was a dreadful idea. Maybe Ginny would grow even angrier with her when she appeared, but as Hermione felt that familiar sensation of being squeezed through a bottle known as Apparition, she found she didn't quite care anymore.

Yes, Ginny was her friend and she'd always, in a way, would be no matter what. But Hermione couldn't tiptoe around what Ginny wanted any longer, doing certain things and avoiding certain things just to make Miss Weasley happy.

She wouldn't even do that for Harry and Ron, and they were her best friends.

Harry's apartment was unsurprisingly dark and shadowy as he usual kept it, but Hermione discovered with a jolt of shock that it was silent.

She had expected to Apparate into a flat full of a very loud “chat” going on.

But this wasn't the case. She blinked through the darkness of Harry's living room and listened for any sounds at all.

“Harry,” she called through the quiet. “Harry, are you here? Ginny? Are you here?”

She didn't receive an answer.

“Hmmm,” she said aloud but to herself, “I suppose he's not here…”

There were abrupt footsteps through the shadows of his flat, and Hermione immediately pulled out her wand and lit it, physically jumping when the light of her wand landed on Harry.

“Hermione,” he said, “I thought I heard you.”

She released a breath. She really needed to stop being so edgy.

“Harry, what's happened?” she asked as she watched him turn and give some light to his dim home.

Harry shrugged. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…well, I - I dunno…”

“You mean with Ginny?” he said knowingly, a knowing glance accompanying his knowing tone. He simply knew that's what she had meant.

Hermione blushed. “Well, yes that's what I meant. I mean…not that I expected anything to happen. I just -”

“Thought we'd be having a chat,” he finished.

The blush hadn't left her cheeks before her they went a brighter pink.

“Yes, that's what I thought,” she mumbled.

“Ginny's not here,” he said, sitting down in his favorite armchair right by the fire. He stared expectantly at her. “You can sit down you know. You're soaked, too. You've been out in the rain for too long…”

He was right. She was wet. Her cloak was drenched and her hair had gotten a bit damp as well, not to mention her clothes underneath her cloak.

She took off her cloak, drying it with a quick charm before setting it down on the armrest of his sofa, and then settling down on the couch.

“So what took you so long?” he asked.

“For what?”

“To come after me.” He looked a bit amused now. He was teasing her.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh c'mon, I thought you'd come after me to make sure Ginny and I didn't have a row.”

She bit her bottom lip, hating how he was right; she had wanted to come after him, but the idea of going to Knockturn Alley had popped into her head.

“I was,” she admitted, shrugging. “But I didn't.”

“So, then, what took you so long?”

“Have you always been this nosy?”

He shrugged too. “I dunno, Hermione. You tell me. I hardly remember what I had for lunch this afternoon.”

“No, you weren't always, and I took so long because - because I stopped by Knockturn.”

Harry sat up straight in his armchair, his expression disbelief.

“You what?” he said incredulously. “What were you thinking, Hermione?”

“What? So you can go there by yourself but I can't!?”

“I wasn't attacked, was I?”

“But you could've been!” she countered, her voice rising just as high as his. “You could've been, Harry! If there's anyone at more of a risk there than a Muggleborn it's you! They hate you more than they'd hate a Muggleborn like me. You - You defeated their Lord, Harry.”

“It's different, Hermione.”

She was beginning to become insulted.

“Oh? Why's it `different'?”

“Because I don't want you to get hurt again,” he answered straightforwardly, and his voice sounded strained; almost as if he wanted to tear up at the thought of Hermione being attacked for a second time. “I don't ever want you to get hurt again.”

“I don't want you getting hurt either!” she snapped. “It'd affect me just as much if you were attacked like I was! Don't get me wrong, Harry. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you're so concerned and protective of me, it's just…you need protection too, don't ever forget that. Please.”

They were sharing a mutual gaze that was intense and of that same quality of wordless communication they always shared, and with just their gaze they both concluded that the other was right. They were both right and they both realized this.

Hermione smiled as she looked down at her hands in her lap.

“That's what's so great about us,” she muttered, cheeks still a light pink, “We always have good communication.”

Harry would never mistake my `maybe' for a `yes' as Ron did. Harry and I always have communicated so well, unlike Ron and me…

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, a grin that very well could be considered to be silly coming to his lips. “Yeah, we have, haven't we? I don't think I've ever communicated as well with anyone else than I have with - ”

“Harry! I'm home!”

Ginny entered the living room looking to be in a good mood. That is, until after her chocolate brown eyes spotted Harry and Hermione sitting not very far off from each other, sharing somewhat goofy smiles, and right in the middle of a nice, quiet, cozy conversation.

“What the hell?” Ginny growled, instantly upset. “What's she doing here?”

Oh no, this can't be good. Wonderful, Hermione, you just had to come visit Harry, didn't you?

She was completely regretting it now.

Harry stood up and his goofy grin was gone from his face as he stared at Ginny with coldness.

“Ginny,” he said composedly, “You're finally here.”

“Don't you try avoiding the real matter! Why is she here?” Ginny asked; she didn't even glance at Hermione. She was speaking about her as if she weren't there at all.

A moment passed that was so long and nerve wrecking; Hermione couldn't handle the way her stomach was churning. She looked from Ginny's angered face to Harry's seemingly calm one, but she knew better. Harry's jaw was clenched as he gazed at his girlfriend from across the room, and though Harry's loud anger was always bad his silent anger was always the worst.

“Ginny, let's get one thing straight,” Harry said finally, speaking as if they were discussing the décor of his apartment. “I've known Hermione for more or less the same time I've known Ron. She's my best friend and, quite frankly, she's very, very important to me.”

Ginny looked tempted to interrupt with more of her tempered haughtiness, but she held herself back.

Meanwhile, Hermione wished she wasn't listening to this, for she knew somehow Ginny would make this her fault; she'd accuse her of purposely going to Harry and showing him her bruise from where Ginny had slapped her, just to turn Harry against her. Hermione saw this coming and she knew Ginny would do this. She was waiting for her to do this.

“Now,” Harry continued still surprisingly with a calm voice. “I've dated a few girls before, Ginny. In fact, my very first girlfriend, if you'd call her that, was Cho. You remember, don't you? Yeah, you do. Well, see Cho didn't exactly like Hermione very much. Why? I dunno. Probably because she wanted Hermione out of my life.” He paused for a second, his bright eyes never leaving Ginny. “You remember what happened to Cho, right? I broke up with her.”

Ginny really did look as if someone had slapped her in the face, and Hermione felt embarrassed for her.

She opened her mouth, about to say something, but then she closed it and continued to stare at Harry.

“Ginny, you're my girlfriend. I like you or else I wouldn't be dating you, but - but I'm sorry. You can't and won't go around starting arguments with Hermione. You won't give her any trouble at all. And you won't - you won't ever slap her, hex her, or anything else of that sort.”

“So she told you?” Ginny blurted. She couldn't keep silent any longer. “I knew she'd tell you! I knew it! She probably rushed right over here, tearstained face, whining about what I did!”

Well, I really did call that one, didn't I?

“And let me tell you something,” Ginny growled, “Yeah, I slapped her, but she's not innocent! She's throwing herself at you, Harry! She's flirting with you and getting you to feel terribly sorry for her. She's trying to take you away from me! And - And when I slapped her she looked as if she were about to get out her wand and hex me back!”

“What?” Hermione said, gaping at Ginny. “Ginny, you're so desperate you're going to lie?”

Ginny ignored her.

“But no! I don't see you scolding her for almost attacking me!”

“Ginny, shut up!” Harry snapped, and it was the first time he didn't sound calm; he sounded irritated. “I know Hermione. I know she didn't try to `attack you'. You slapped her and you had no reason to. To be frank, you're being a downright wench, Ginny.”

“I'd like to think I have the right to! My boyfriend is sleeping in another woman's bed…with the woman in the bed!” Ginny exclaimed wildly. “How are you going to explain that, hmmm? How do you expect me not to be upset!?”

Harry clearly didn't want to tell Ginny about what had happened to Hermione. He glanced at her, and she knew he wouldn't because she wasn't ready to talk about it with just anyone.

“No, Harry,” Hermione said. “No, I think Ginny has the right to know.”

“I KNEW IT!” Ginny shrieked. “I knew it all along!”

“Can you listen to me for one second?” Hermione asked her, also irritated. “H-Harry stayed the night because - because I didn't feel safe.”

Ginny snorted. “Aw, Hermione didn't feel safe! What a stupid excuse!”

“No, I didn't feel safe, because - because I was…” She broke off there, and she found she wanted to be alone. Her eyes were prickly, tears soon to come.

“Hermione, it's okay,” Harry said gently. “You don't have to tell her if you don't want to.”

“I can.” She looked back over at Ginny. “The night before,” she said quietly, “I was attacked in Knockturn by a group of wizards and witches.”

To Hermione's enormous relief, Ginny's furious expression softened, and for a few moments the friend inside of Ginny looked concerned.

“Oh,” she said, feeling stupid. “Hermione, I'm…sorry. I mean…I didn't know. Are you all right? Erm, w-what happened?”

Hermione didn't want to go into details, not again.

“I'd rather not go into specifics.”

“Okay. You're - well, you're all right now, aren't you?”

“I'm fine now,” Hermione replied. “I just thought you should know why Harry stayed that night.”

She stood up from his sofa and went for her cloak.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked her.

“I'm leaving. I think Ginny and you need to talk by yourselves.”

“No need,” Ginny said. She no longer sounded sympathetic; the jealousy and anger had made its triumphant return. “It's really very simple. I'm giving you a choice now, Harry. Hermione or me. Obviously you can't be with me and be best friends with Hermione at the same time. It's unfair to me.”

It didn't take Harry very long to answer.

“Ginny, I really care about you. You mean a lot to me. You're the best girlfriend I've ever had, maybe that I ever will have. But you should know something,” he told her, “I've had many girlfriends in my life. I've only had two best friends. Sorry, but I won't give Hermione up. Not now, not ever.”

It was the second time Ginny looked as if someone had slapped her.

Her eyes looked to Harry and then switched to Hermione before traveling back to Harry again.

At first she didn't know what exactly to say.

“Fine. We're over then. You don't know what you're giving up. I'm young and I'm attractive and I'm everything a man looks for,” she informed conceitedly, “You'll miss me by tomorrow, Harry. You'll come back, again.”

She looked amused as she looked over at Hermione.

“Have a wonderful friendship,” she said, whether seriously or mockingly they didn't know.

Ginny turned her back to them and headed for the front door, pulling it open and disappearing outside into the hall.

Hermione didn't know why, perhaps because she was a good, loyal friend, but she sighed and rushed to the door after Ginny.

Ginny was making her way down the hall, obviously thinking she was alone and that it was all right for her to now show her hurt. She looked as if she wanted to cry.

“Ginny,” Hermione said, shutting the door to Harry's flat.

She turned around and the look on her face when she saw Hermione wasn't a friendly one.

Ginny Weasley looked livid…again.

“You,” she spat loathingly, “Don't you dare talk to me!”

“You're my friend. I'm not trying to come between Harry and you. Actually, if you think about it you've brought this on yourself, Ginny. If you - ”

“Oh this is rich! You must feel really good about yourself right now, for once,” Ginny said as she took a few steps towards her, so that now they were face-to-face. “You think you've won him, don't you?”

“Won him? Ginny, he's not something to be won.”

“There you go trying to sound all pleasant and like a saint! I see right through you! You really think you have a shot with him, don't you? You're convinced he'd go for a girl like you…”

“Well, apparently you are too, Ginny. If not, you wouldn't have been so threatened,” Hermione said logically. “And that's the whole reason why Harry and you broke up. You've let your own insecurities get in the way of - ”

In mid-sentence, Ginny apparently had the audacity to slap Hermione again, because her hand raised and started right for Hermione's face just as it had last time.

But this time Hermione caught her wrist in time, giving Ginny a stern, warning look.

“Don't,” Hermione warned. “Don't you ever try to slap me again.”

Ginny yanked her wrist away from Hermione's grasp, and she didn't say anything as she twisted around and walked down the hallway, turning the corner once she reached its end.

Hermione stayed standing in that hallway for a couple of seconds even after Ginny had left. She was proud of herself for stopping Ginny from slapping her again. She understood that Ginny was upset and heartbroken, but she wasn't going to excuse all of the rotten things Ginny was doing. There wasn't an excuse to be that much of a terror.

“Hermione.”

She turned around to see Harry standing in his doorway.

“What happened?”

She sighed and nodded her head. “Nothing worth mentioning,” she said shortly.

Harry continued to look at her with a thoughtful expression, looking like he was considering something.

Again Hermione felt timid under his studying gaze, that familiar pink blush coloring her cheeks.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing.” Though he still continued to watch her silently. “Aren't you cold?”

“Well, yes,” she admitted. “But - But I'm about to leave anyway, so - ”

“No, you're not,” he interrupted, a sideways grin coming to his handsome face. “Because you're coming inside for some of my famous hot chocolate.”

She remembered his famous hot chocolate well. It had warmed her up plenty a cold day.

A dreamy smile was on Hermione's face, one of those schoolgirl with a crush kinds of smiles, and she nodded as he moved aside for her to pass through the door and into his flat.

“I'd like that very much, Harry,” she said.

Harry's grin widened as he shut the door after them.

“Okay,” he said cheerfully. “Two mugs of some delicious hot chocolate coming up.”

&

A/N: Don't get your hopes up just yet. The trouble for Harmony isn't done with yet. But thank you for reading! Now please review, and the next chapter (I feel like a broken record) will come Sunday/Monday night. Well, until then!