AN: Hi it's me again! I bet you weren't expecting to see me again… SURPRISE! Okay so I've realized that a lot of my problems with getting this fic written is that I'm ridiculously impatient to get to the parts I'm excited about. There's only so much plot-laying a girl can do before she either has to get to the good bits or scrap the work entirely. So, we are moving full speed ahead to the good parts. Now, saying that, hold onto your hats people. We are doing this thing. This chapter won't have much dialogue because I'm packing several chapters worth of character development for everyone into one big, bad, meta, thinking sessions for everyone. YAY META.

November 3rd, Draco:

Once again they woke up entangled with one another. Draco used this term loosely, waking up implied that he had fallen asleep in the first place, and he hadn't. It wasn't because he was uncomfortable curled up on the couch with Granger, quite the opposite really.

In his arms he held a dirty, bushy haired girl with tear tracks down her face that had come home from fighting a war that no one was really sure was happening in the first place- and he was comfortable. She was too skinny from months of not eating enough so her bones dug into his flesh, she hogged the blanket, and was determined to use his chest as her pillow despite the fact that there wasn't really enough room on the small sofa for her to really do so- and despite the fact that he hadn't slept a wink, he felt more at peace that morning than he had in… years.

Draco had spent much of the night contemplating this new development, and as he worked on committing the smell of her hair to his memory, Draco Malfoy was forced to admit to himself certain truths that he had been in denial about for a very, very long time.

He admired her intelligence. This woman who had come from not knowing the magical world existed and then worked tirelessly to make sure that was never to her disadvantage. She was the 'brightest witch of their age' as the media was so fond of calling her, and Hermione Granger had more than earned the title. If Draco was being honest with himself, and that was the whole point of this exercise was it not, he had been fascinated by Granger since the beginning of Hogwarts. Granted in his earlier years that fascination was very much replaced by jealousy- why should this girl who had no previous knowledge of magic be able to best him in classes- something happened in third year that changed things.

She decked him.

Now Draco wasn't going to say that this made him suddenly adore the chit, but it did make him have a certain respect for her. And although he grew increasingly antagonistic towards her, it was most likely only to mask the fact that he thought way too much about Potter and his two friends. Particularly the friend that could have used any number of curses to decimate him to bits, and instead settled for the physical satisfaction of breaking his face with her fist.

Not that any of that mattered now, not really. Although, Draco couldn't help but yearn to know if Granger ever wondered who it was that had floated the piece of paper to her in second year- the ripped page out of a book from Flourish and Blott's that gave the description of a Basilisk.

Would that make her think better of him? Or would it not be enough to change anything? Did he even want to have anything changed, or was he content in the knowledge that although he might not be sure of what those feelings meant, Draco Malfoy felt for Hermione Granger.

Perhaps that could be enough.

Of course, his musings were interrupted when the newest fixture in Draco's life made an early morning appearance in their living room.

"Well," Fred said, much too loudly and cheerfully for this hour. "Isn't this just cozy?"

Draco glared at the ghost and signaled for him to shut his gob before he awoke Hermione, but it was too late. She moved slowly, as if unwilling to leave her sleep behind. Draco watched her every move carefully- how her tiny little hands stayed just a moment longer on his clothed chest than was necessary, the way she delicately lifted herself up and away from him, and how her eyes filled with something foreign when she finally tilted her head in his direction.

Their eyes locked and Draco thought he could stay hours like this, completely silent and unmoving, because he would be damned if he spoke too soon or moved too suddenly and scared her away. They'd been avoiding talking about everything that had transpired between them so far (ignoring her monologue from the night before, but that didn't count because it was rather one sided) and he dared for just a moment to hope that this might be the moment that changed.

And then Fred cleared his throat, Granger squeaked, and off she ran to her bedroom and slammed the door.

"Sorry to barge in," Fred said, although it was quite clear that he was anything but. "But did she happen to mention anything about Ron or Ginny?"

Draco sniffed, "She was quite adamant that she didn't want to talk about it, although she did mention that everyone came back alive."

For some reason this news didn't seem to cheer the ghost up any.

"If that is that case, perhaps you could explain to me why I cannot find them anywhere inside the castle?"

Well. That was mildly concerning, wasn't it?

"Perhaps they went back to your weasel nest? Or do they have reason to be in… in the Room of Hidden Things?"

Fred chewed his lip as he floated in circles. He was wearing the robes he had died in and they were quite clearly damaged in some places from stone tearing the fabric. Luckily the wounds that killed him weren't visible- although nothing could be done for the poor ghost's hair.

"I would know if they went home, and I thought that room was damaged beyond repair?" he asked.

"Well, I'm not sure where they are, but if the Weasel is alone with Little Red I believe you should probably fear for his life. Last I checked she was marching herself to detention after hitting him with that hex she loves so much."

Fred went about muttering how Draco was no help at all before vanishing, leaving Draco to try and figure out just when exactly it started being alright for the ghost to come to him for help in the first place.

Ginny:

It was possible that the others were worried about her, but she hoped that they would respect her decision to seek out her brother alone. When the group of weary students had finally returned to the castle that night, Ginny had motioned for Harry to go on and dragged Ron off to walk the grounds with her.

They walked for hours in silence, Ginny refusing to open the dialogue and Ron probably having no idea where to start. Before she realized it, they ended up walking down the long tunnel to the Shrieking Shack, where they once again sat in silence for several long hours.

If she were being honest with herself, they weren't so much sitting as napping, but that was neither here nor there.

It wasn't long after daybreak when Ron finally found the courage to speak up, although the words he chose weren't wheat she was expecting.

"Harry won't speak to me. When we were fighting earlier today we fell right back into sync with each other, it was just like old times, but he didn't say a word to me."

Alright, if that's how they were going to do this. "Do you blame him? I don't recall you speaking to Hermione at all while we were there either."

"She hates me."

"Again, do you blame her?" she asked gently.

Ron put his face in his hands and rubbed his tired eyes. It didn't look like he'd be sleeping well at all, and he had lost some weight. His hair was no longer the flaming Weasley red, it had dulled somehow. He wasn't healthy, and as much as she wanted to toss him to the Whomping Willow, he was still her brother.

"That's just it, they deserve to hate me. Everyone does. Merlin knows I do."

And this was where Ginny started to get frustrated, because none of it made any sense.

"Then what the hell is your problem? Is it because you're still in love with her and it didn't work out? Is that why you're being so vile and vitriolic? Morgana's frumpy breasts, Ron, it's not like Hermione asked to be put in Slytherin! The Hat just chucked her there and was done with it! And even if she had chosen Slytherin, who bloody cares?! It's just a House, it shouldn't matter!"

Ron looked her directly in the eye then and shifted her entire world view.

"You're right, it shouldn't, but it does, doesn't it?"

Ginny said nothing and continued to glare at her brother.

"You can feel it too, can't you? The instinct not to trust her now? The moment her robe colors changed this, this stupid bloody feeling creeped up my arms and she just doesn't feel right anymore!"

At that outburst Ron lurched to his feet and ran his fingers through his hair in a move that vaguely reminded Ginny of Harry.

"I know it doesn't makes sense, and I swear I can't explain my actions any more that you can. Each time it happens it's like I open my mouth to speak and something completely different comes out. I feel like I'm losing my bloody mind, Gin, and I can't help it! You're right that I still love her, but not like that. Merlin, when I saw that the village her parents lived in was attacked, the first thing I did was rush to her side. But then she sides with Malfoy and Parkinson and it's like my vision goes black."

Ron slumped back down onto the dusty old sofa, defeated. And Ginny didn't like the thoughts spiraling in her own mind after his little speech.

He wasn't wrong about there being an odd feeling towards everyone. Just last week hadn't she fought with herself for doubting Hermione's motivations? Hasn't there been an odd chill touching everything and everyone and forcing them all to doubt each other?

Ginny had tried to chalk it up to post-war paranoia, but what if it wasn't? If everyone was feeling the same mistrust towards each other, doesn't that mean that there is a reason for it? There weren't all crazy, they couldn't be.

"So what do you think the problem is, Ron? And once you figure that out you need to decide if whatever it is, is worth risking your friends and family over."

At that Ron looked up, dreadful and panicked.

Ginny moved slowly from her hunched over position and towards the exit.

"I mean it, Ron. We all love you, but there's only so much love can do before we say goodbye altogether. Don't be the next Percy."

Hermione:

Normally whenever she had a problem, the first thing she would do is go to the library. Books held the answer to all problems- didn't they? Words hold power, and power solves problems. This was the simple equation that Hermione Jean Granger had been using since the day her mother had given her her first book.

But what would she even use as the research topic for this?

Hermione wandered the dusty stacks and made a valiant attempt to sort out her priorities. Yesterday they'd been back at war, and it was the first time that her head had felt truly clear in ages. It was the same feeling she'd had when she had blasted through McGonagall's wards- and Merlin didn't that feel as though it had happened ages ago. Had it really only been a month or so?

She leaned against a bookcase (somewhere in the section dedicated to old Mermish history, Hermione had lived here for a while after the Second Tri-Wizard Challenge, she'd been curious about what she'd missed while she was asleep) and attempted to catch her breath. Time was making her feel weary- and when last had she eaten? A quick glance down at her too loose sweater shamed her, perhaps it was time to let someone else take care of her after all.

Focus, Hermione, you're getting off track.

She shook her head to try and regain control of her mind, it was like she couldn't keep focus anymore, and her thought process was so wild.

Breathe.

Try again.

In battle yesterday her mind had been completely under her control, clear headed and full or purpose. Was that what she was lacking? Purpose? Or did the adrenaline from the fight just give her a fix of life and freedom? Would she forever be chasing one fight after another in order to feel like herself? This wasn't a prospect she found very comforting.

Or maybe it's just that in battle you have no choice but to strip away all that isn't necessary and focus on what matters- staying alive.

Either way, Hermione craved clarity now more than ever, especially when it came to Draco Malfoy.

There was something there, no denying it. Of course Hermione hadn't the slightest notion as to what exactly that something was, but it certainly wasn't hate. Not anymore. Could it just be that the two of them had been lumped together and now they were doing their damnedest to survive?

But no, that couldn't be it. They were all good at surviving… it was living that was the problem. Hadn't they just spoken about how none of them knew how to live? None of their generation had any idea how to function without a war roiling around their every move.

How do you make a choice when it wasn't life or death? If there is nothing pressing the matter, how did one gather the bravery in order to take the next step? Was that why she was no longer a Gryffindor, she was too much of a coward to try and live her own life?

A sudden, unreasonable, flare of anger and jealousy went through her. Of course Ginny had no fear about living her life- she had no consequences to face! She had a huge family that could protect themselves in the wizarding world, who could support her in turn! She had Harry bloody Potter guarding her every step and ensuring that no matter what her happiness came first before anything! She was naturally liked by everyone, she didn't have to fight for every ounce of respect and friendship!

Hermione was beginning to work herself into a right and proper rage when suddenly a ghost flew across her vision- and the memory of Fred surfaced.

She was ashamed.

Ginny's family was clearly at as much of a risk as everyone else's… and hadn't Harry just a few nights ago attacked his best friend for threatening Hermione's happiness? The anger and jealousy vanished as though it had never been there before and left Hermione shaking. What in the name of Merlin was wrong with her?

She steadied herself and marched off in the direction of the Gryffindor common room to see Harry- he was sure to need her to research something in order to figure out who exactly their enemy was, and why they were there in the first place.

November 4th – December 4th

At first the students would only vanish to fight about once a week but as December got closer and the temperatures dropped, the attacks became more frequent and they were fighting every other day. Relationships between couples, friends, professors, family, and Houses all became strained as this war against an invisible enemy took its toll.

None could find any rhyme or reason in the attacks, other than that it was clear that members of the Order of the Phoenix and supporters of the Dark Lord were both being targeted. Attempts to discover the hidden agenda of the attackers were hindered by both parties refusal to work together, the only piece of information with any hints being a letter from an unnamed Azkaban prisoner, delivered anonymously by an unnamed third party.

"Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley- the Golden Trio once again fighting valiantly to protect the Wizarding World" became an almost daily headline across all news sources, although there was no mention of the tension between the three.

With the students evening out Ministry numbers, casualties began to drop. Efforts were made to recruit more Ministry officials, but it would still be a while before the students would no longer be needed outside of Hogwarts.

On December 1st the attacks mysteriously stopped, leaving everyone jumpy an anxious over the reason, everyone anticipating and fearing whatever it is their Invisible Enemy has planned for them next.

AN:

Alrighty, and that will bring us to our next chapter in which I can FINALLY get the ball rolling. I'm sorry if this chapter seems bit lackluster but as I said before, it was either throw out a lot of information at once or scrap the story altogether. I figured this option was the least likely to result in torches and pitchforks. LOVE YOU ALL!