Hermione's POV

"Morning, Herms," Draco murmured into her bushy curls. It had been a few days since Hermione told him about her being a Seer, and fortunately for the both of them, nothing had changed between them. Draco was still sweet to her, and she was never afraid to tell him what was on her mind.

Hermione sighed. She could get used to this. Waking up in Draco's bed(fully clothed, of course, there were no sexual goings on in this dormitory), going to breakfast with him, having him all to herself. "Morning," she said softly, savoring the tired grin he returned.

Reaching over to caress her cheek, he brought her close for a soft peck on the forehead. She moved to kiss him on the lips, but he moved away.

"What's wrong?" she asked, instantly worried. What had she done wrong? Had she done anything wrong?

"I wish we could stay here," he started with a grin, "but I'm starving. I can just imagine those sausages..." he propped himself up on one elbow, staring off into the distance.

Hermione rolled over into her pillow, groaning. "You're just like Ron!" she giggled, her words muffled by the fabric.

She raised her head to see Draco staring at her in sadness. After the war, she'd hoped that expression would never be on his face again. But here it was, just because she'd said his name. "No, Draco, I didn't mean it—"

"Yeah, okay," he said, distracted. He couldn't seem to look in her eyes. "Keep going on about your precious Ronald, I get it. I could never fit into the Weasley standards, anyway."

"What—what do you mean?" Hermione gulped. He couldn't be doing this. Not now. Not when she needed him. Not when the whole world needed him.

"Oh, never mind," he sneered, and she flinched. It was his usual behavior, the sneer that was always on his face before the two were together. "You seem to go for the slimy rats anyway. At least I've got the dignity to stop this nonsense before someone gets hurt." He grabbed clean clothes and stalked out of the common room without another word.

Hermione was left speechless. He couldn't just walk out on her like that, not when he was going to help them defeat Bellatrix. He was the key, and now, just like smoke, he'd slipped out of her fingers.

She felt the tears form as she realized he was right. The past few days, she had been talking about Ron a lot. But only memories, like the Quidditch games in sixth year when he won, and the song the Gryffindors made up for him. Things like that. It couldn't have been that bad.

But, with her heart sinking lower, she realized who had originally come up with the insulting chant: Slytherin. And Draco had helped, she was sure. So by bringing that up, she had offended his House. She'd led him in the wrong direction, making him believe she loved Ron more, even after she'd clearly denied it.

She shook her head wearily. I have to be more careful, she thought. He's more sensitive to that than I ever will be.

Still frustrated with herself and Draco, she pulled her brush through her hair, yanking it through the knots, making her wince in pain. But it didn't bother her nearly as much as Draco's reaction did. He'd just left, and that was what she hated. She should have been more careful about what she said, should have seen the looks on his face that surely had shown the pain he was experiencing.

When she was fully changed and looked as refreshed as she could after the disheartening events of the morning, she left in a rush for breakfast. I hope I haven't missed it, she thought.

When Hermione stepped into the Great Hall, she was greeted with the usual loud chatter from each table. She looked for Draco, and when she found his familiar face, she saw him glance at her. Her hand started to raise in a friendly wave, but it dropped lamely when his eyes hardened and he turned away, his back now to her. She slumped to Gryffindor table and plopped on the bench next to Ginny and...coincidentally, of course, Ron.

He, as usual, was stuffing his face with sausage after sausage, and didn't stop until he gulped a large glass of pumpkin juice.

Hermione grimaced and turned to Harry. "I talked to Draco," she started, wishing she didn't have to talk about him. But he was needed, and she hoped she could get him back on board soon. She wouldn't be able to stand it if he turned away from not just her, but the whole world, joining his aunt.

"Yeah?" Ginny seemed plenty eager on the topic. "What'd he say?"

"He said he'd help, that he just needed to think of a way." With a glance at her empty plate, she said in a softer voice, "But I don't think he's going to anymore."

"What?" Harry butted into the conversation, one seat over. "Why?"

"He, uh...I, actually, I er..." she trailed off, feeling both awkward and full of guilt. It was her fault that he'd left in an angry rush that morning, not his.

Ginny rested her hand on her arm. "Come on, Herms, don't tell me you broke up?" she said gently. "I mean, that's rubbish, I know, but you can't let that get in the way. We're talking about the wizarding world right now."

She looked up at that. "I know, Ginny, I know." she sighed. "But, I said a few things over the last few days. You know how Draco is, super sensitive about me and...Ron?"

The two nodded.

"Well," she continued, "I was talking about the game that Gryffindor won, when we all sang the altered version of 'Weasley is our King'. All those moments, those aren't good for Draco, they're just great for me. I'm not interested in Ron at all, but Draco's not convinced." she ran her fingers through her hair in exasperation. She was surprised that zero tears had found their way to the surface yet. "He was kind of angry this morning. He finally told me, and then he left for breakfast. Oh, Ginny," she said, and the tears came right on cue, "I don't know what to do! I'm the only person he trusts—or trusted, I don't know—and now I've ruined everything!"

Ginny was the most comforting in the situation. She wrapped her arms around her friend, and whispered into her ear. "It's okay, it'll be fine. Harry and I are in a transitioning stage, too, you know," she said.

Hermione's tears stopped suddenly. "What?"

"Yeah," Harry said, and he didn't seem tense next to Ginny, but instead, rather comfortable. But not as it was before. "It's gotten kind of stressful, anyway. With Bellatrix back, and to hold up a relationship? It was hard enough with Voldemort, and even then I had to cut it off when we searched for the horcruxes. Besides," he added, "we've both agreed it'd be better for Ron's mental state, too. So he doesn't see us snogging all the time."

That made Hermione grin, in spite of herself. "Well," she said, "as long as you two are okay."

When they both nodded, Hermione filled her plate with food, which was beginning to run low, thanks to lovely Ronald, of course.

"So, what are we going to do?" Harry pondered aloud.

"She could get the Dementor's Kiss," Ginny offered.

Hermione shook her head, shooting down the idea. "No, that's too hard. Besides, where are we going to get a hold of a dementor? And who wants to be near one, anyway?"

Ginny shrugged. "I guess. But it was worth a try."

Hermione, feeling better, was about to voice her suggestion, when she heard the gentle swish of robes.

Turning to look behind her, she recognized the face of Professor McGonagall. "Good morning, Professor," she said, perplexed.

"I've gotten notice from Professor Trelawney that you haven't been attending your lessons?"

A wave of panic crashed into her. "Oh, I'm so sorry, please tell her that I'll come tonight—"

"There'll be no need for that, thank you," she cut in with her usual calm but stern voice. "You'll be seeing her now, if you're finished with breakfast."

Hermione nodded; she really didn't want to continue the conversation about Bellatrix anyway. "I'll get going then," she said, standing.

Harry and Ginny, including Ron, and the other Gryffindor that were near enough to hear the exchange of words, glanced up at her in confusion. But when she shook her head slightly, they returned to their food, seeming to forget everything about her.

As McGonagall strolled with her out of the Great Hall, Hermione told her. She had to. "Professor," she began, "are you aware of the article in the Prophet?"

"And just which one of the many are you referring to, Ms. Granger?"

"The one about Bellatrix alive," she said bluntly.

"Oh." For the first time since Hermione had met her, McGonagall seemed lost for words.

But it didn't mean that she couldn't recover quickly enough. "It seems that Bellatrix Lestrange is alive, yes? Well, I'm sure the Ministry is doing everything they can at the moment," she said to Hermione's utter disappointment. She'd been hoping she would give her any ideas on the subject, to help her and her friends.

It was then that she caught the subtle wink. She was bluffing. She knew something. She just wasn't saying it, not in front of the students. What a smart woman, she thought.

"I do hope you focus in your lessons, Hermione," the Headmistress concluded in a brisk voice. "They will be useful, I'm sure."

When Hermione nodded, Professor McGonagall left her, and she sauntered to Professor Trelawney's classroom, nervously awaiting her lessons.

***

"Yes, dear?" was Trelawney's response to Hermione's knock on the wooden hatch door to the North Tower. It had been a long trip to the old classroom, as Hermione had nearly forgotten where it was. But, nevertheless, she'd found it, and was now here to begin her dreaded lessons.

"It's Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"Oh, yes."

She could hear the soft click of the lock on the other side of the hatch door, and it flung open, revealing the magnified eyes of the Divination teacher.

"Glad you finally decided to show up," Sybil said under her breath, but she didn't hide it well; Hermione heard it loud and clear.

"Look, I know precisely what you're feeling right now about teaching me when I quit your class. I just hope that after these lessons, there'll be no more hard feelings between the two of us." Hermione reasoned, and she was glad to see her teacher's expression soften.

"Okay," she said. "I'll try."

The lesson began with a bang.

Trelawney had tripped over her small desk. Again.

"Now, as a Seer," she began, "you have to let the visions come to you, just let them show themselves, but control them. You have to be careful. Don't force your powers. That will only make it worse. It's hard enough to be a Seer, so just...be careful."

"Okay," Hermione said, confused. When were the actual lessons going to start?

Trelawney pulled up a pouf for Hermione to sit on, and she did. In front of her on the table was a glass ball. Not this thing again, she thought desperately.

But it was. "This will help you control the visions. Now," Sybil said, demonstrating what she wished her to do. "place your hands on the ball like this, and close your eyes. If something comes, you'll know. It's not like a daydream, I can assure you that much."

Hermione, still feeling foolish, lay her sweaty palms on the sides of the ball, the cold glass chilling her fingertips. Her eyes closed, she waited for something to happen. She wasn't waiting for long.

Bellatrix. She was there, in a house. A sign...

Voldemort. In a cemetery somewhere. The tomb read a name, a woman's...

Bellatrix again, in the same house. The sign read clearly. It was the House of Gaunt.

The name on the tomb. It read the woman's name. Merope Gaunt.

"That's enough for today," Trelawney gasped and snatched the glass ball from under Hermione's touch. "You can go back to your classes."

"But—"

"I don't believe these lessons are going to work. It's too soon."

Hermione, perplexed, slumped her shoulders and trudged out of the classroom, muttering a goodbye under her breath. She heard Sybil mumbling under her breath, and stopped to hear.

"That soon," she said. "That soon to have a vision about You-Know-Who. I can't believe it."

Hermione gaped. It wasn't normal to have a vision that young. But the only thing she could do was bite her lip to fight back the tears as she made her way to Transfiguration.