Ok, please don't kill me. I know that these are SUPER late, and that is unfortunate. Long story short, about a week before Halloween, I needed to buy a new laptop. At the time, I could not afford that, so I had to wait. I got past that hurdle, but uploading was still a few days late because my Office subscription had expired, and I had to cop my friend's student email. It was a very disappointing situation, because I was very excited to write these for Halloween, but better late than never.

Please enjoy.

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Warning: Violence

Non Magical AU

Hermione walked through the empty hall, eyes roaming over the paint and aged furnishing of the place. It was old, and practically on its last leg, but Hermione could see what her parents saw in it; it had character. She was reluctant to admit that she liked the place despite its obvious flaws, and she could see it growing on her. They'd been in such a rush to move that Hermione hadn't been given time to come to terms with it. Therefore, allowing disdain to already bloom in her heart.

They'd been so desperate to get out of that town, away from the accusing eyes and biased newspaper articles that they bought the first house they could find. Hermione knew that her parents didn't blame her, at least not consciously, but Hermione wasn't stupid. She saw the looks they threw her way when they thought she wasn't paying attention. She often woke up to the sound of their hushed whispers in the middle of the night as they fought about what to do with their "crazy daughter".

"Perhaps I am crazy," she mumbled to herself as she climbed the creaking stairs.

It was a thought that had crossed her mind often, and she was at a point where she was beginning to believe it herself. Normal people didn't see things like she did. They didn't interact with "things that weren't there" like she did. Hermione wasn't normal, and if she wasn't normal, then she was crazy.

She entered an empty bedroom with a sigh, glancing around the spacious area before dropping her bag onto her bed. It was a round room near the back of the house with a window diagonally across from the bed that overlooked the front yard. There was another behind the bed that gave her a view of the back yard. She sat down, the bed protesting with a groan just as her mum walked inside.

"I think with a little paint and care, this place could really be something," she said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah," Hermione halfheartedly agreed with a small smile.

The older woman suddenly sighed before stepping further into the room, and crossing her arms over her chest.

"I know that it was a rather abrupt change. I realize that we didn't give you much time to-."

"It's alright, mum. Really… I understand," she interrupted, beginning to unpack her bag.

There was a brief, tense silence, one that Hermione just wanted to be over.

"You've been taking your medicine?"

"Yes, mum," Hermione sighed, the weight of the pill bottle feeling like a rock in her jacket pocket.

The other woman reached out to gently pat Hermione's head, running her hand over her hair.

"Good. Do you want your favorite for dinner, tonight?"

Hermione perked up just a bit, smiling.

"That'd be great."

Hermione watched her mum leave, a small frown marring her features as the door that her mum pulled closed, slowly swung back open.

"It's only a thirty minute drive, Hermione. We'd be there in no time!"

Hermione leaned against the door, overlooking the front yard as a small breeze passed by, blowing her hair with it.

"I don't know, Ron. My parents and that therapist said that I should take some time to myself. They think that my spending too much time with you guys contributed to the…delusions," she spat the word out like it was vile.

She heard him sigh over the phone, and her heart clenched.

"You know that I believe you, right? That all of us did? We always have…"

"Maybe you shouldn't have. There's no such thing as ghosts and spirits and… They were right. You guys were feeding into, and-."

"Hermione, all of us were there. We all saw what was happening," he argued.

"A shared hallucination!"

"That's a load of crap, and you know it!"

"Ron, I am in an entirely different city, now. I'm in some unfamiliar place with people that I don't know. My entire life was uprooted because of this, because everyone back home thinks I'm some mental pyromaniac!"

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.

"I can't afford to believe any of this, anymore. Fortunately, I was never officially charged with anything, but… What if I had been? I want to graduate with high marks, and go to a great college, maybe even one in the states."

"You're brilliant, Hermione, the smartest person I know…"

Ron's words had fallen to the background as she spun around with wide eyes. She'd heard a crash from inside, and neither one of her parents were home. She opened the door, phone still pressed to her ear as she peered inside. Whatever Ron was saying was no more than a buzz, now. Her heart loudly thumped beneath her chest, a horrible sense of Deja-vu falling over her as she craned her neck. Nothing looked out of the ordinary…

She suddenly gasped, stumbling back as a shadow passed over the hallway. With a mumbled excuse to Ron, she hung up the phone, immediately dialing the police.

It was barely ten minutes later when two police cars were in her yard, four men inside checking out the property. She stood on the porch, arms folded over her chest as she paced. She'd called her mum, as well, breathing a sigh of relief when her familiar car pulled into the driveway. Her relief was short-lived when her father's car appeared only seconds later.

"What happened?" her mum questioned as she ran up the steps, car door still open.

"I saw someone in the house," Hermione frantically answered.

Mrs. Granger gasped, peering through the open doorway as Hermione did her best to ignore the skeptical looks of her father. He'd never had any understanding, unlike her mother, and had tried to send her away as soon as possible. Fortunately for her, her mum wasn't having it.

"Are you sure?" her father questioned.

"Yes," she practically sneered, certain of what she saw.

She was forced to eat her words when, only a few moments later, the police informed her that the property was clean.

"I know what I saw. I was right here, on the phone-."

"With that Weasley kid?"

Hermione opened her mouth, eventually snapping it shut under her father's stern gaze. He looked away from her with so much dismissal that it stung, turning his attention towards the police.

"My daughter has a history of…"

Hermione frowned, a scoff escaping her lips as his words faded away, walking away with the other men as he practically called her a nutcase. She wrapped her arms around herself, tensing up when her mother's hand found her shoulder.

"You told me that you've been taking your medication," her mother gently scolded.

"I am!"

She spun around, looking at the older woman with wide eyes.

"I know what I saw. There was someone in the house. I heard a crash, and then-."

"The police said that they didn't see anything out of the ordinary," her father interrupted yet again, approaching them.

"That's a lie," Hermione whispered.

He didn't respond, and she just knew that another fight was in the works. Hermione was right. Thirty minutes later, they were all in the living room, her mother sitting on the couch with her head in her hands while Hermione and her father went back and forth.

"No! I've been taking my medication. I'm not crazy-!"

"Evidently you haven't, because-!"

"There was someone in this house," she harshly said.

"…and I don't believe you. Hermione, you need help," he fired back.

She looked away, clenching her jaw as she resisted saying something that she knew she would regret. He didn't believe her, and Hermione could see that everything was beginning to wear on her mother. It wouldn't be long before she took her father's side in all of this, and then she'd be shipped away to some fancy hospital made up to look like a camp for the rich and snooty.

Mr. Granger suddenly sighed.

"I know that the last time we discussed this you-."

"No, absolutely not," Hermione interrupted, on the verge of tears.

"You need help, Hermione. Help that your mother and I can't provide for you, at least not here."

She brushed past him, ignoring the calls of her parents as she made her way upstairs.

Hermione hadn't lied.

She was taking her medication daily, just like she'd been instructed to. If she was crazy, then it should have been working. If that was the case, then that meant that there really was someone in the house earlier. It was a big house, so it was plausible, but her parents didn't see it that way. They would rather write her off as mental, and Hermione knew that it was only a matter of time before she was being locked away in some facility.

The weeks that followed didn't ease her worries in the slightest. Like that first day, Hermione had seen all sorts of things that she repeatedly had written off as a trick of the light or lack of sleep. Fortunately, it was never anything as concrete as that crash she'd heard that day. She continued to put every little occurrence to the back of her mind, refusing to give her parents any more reason to doubt her.

However, that was much easier said than done. It took everything in her to resist asking one of them if they'd seen something of hers that mysteriously went missing. One day, it was a left shoe, then her copy of the house key, or her favorite earrings. She kept convincing herself that she simply misplaced them, and that they would turn up sooner or later. Without fail, they always did. Only, it was always in a place that she'd least expect.

She had found her left shoe in the laundry room, resting on the shelf above the washer and dryer. Her house key had been discovered lying in the flower pot outside, resting comfortably on the dirt. Her mother was the one who'd discovered her favorite pair of earrings underneath a mug in the kitchen cabinet. Despite all of this, Hermione continued to lie to herself and say that she merely misplaced them, despite the nagging voice in her head that said otherwise.

She'd only told her friends about her fears, confessing to them over the phone of how afraid she was that it was starting again. Ginny had told her to toss the medication, stating that if there was nothing wrong with her, and she continued taking them, wouldn't it do more harm than good? Hermione wasn't sure of that. By all means, the medication should have been working, and if it wasn't, did that mean that she was never crazy? If that were the case, then that meant… Hermione had shaken the thought away, refusing to even entertain that notion.

The day that changed everything, she was alone. A normal occurrence, something she had reluctantly grown used to no matter how much she disliked it. She'd been in her room, redecorating, and for once, almost at peace. She was standing on her bed, hanging up a picture when she noticed a figure walking past her cracked door out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes had widened, the picture frame falling out of her hands, bouncing off of the bed and landing on the floor with a loud crack.

She hesitantly stepped down, avoiding the glass as she approached the door. She peaked around it, reaching out to slowly pull it back as she looked down the hall. She just barely missed the figure making their way down the stairs, and her heart jumped into her throat. She stumbled back, turning to reach for her phone when she paused.

She remembered the last time she'd called the police, the annoyance on their faces as they had found the house empty of any intruder. She recalled her mother's increasing doubt, and the horrible fight she'd had with her father. No one had believed her then, so why would they, now? She reached out, swiping the vase off of her nightstand, and making her way out of her room. Hermione took the stairs two at a time, barely pausing long enough to get a good look at the intruder before tossing the vase at the back of his head.

Her eyes widened to a comical size, heart stuttering when it flew straight through him, shattering against the floor into pieces. She stumbled back, knocking into the table behind her. She reached behind her, grabbing the lamp and swinging it just as he turned around, but again, it passed right through him. She dropped it in horror, paying it no mind as it rolled along the floor. It's happening again…

"You're not crazy, Hermione…," a silky smooth voice informed her.

She slid along the wall, away from him as his eyes followed her from across the room. She turned and ran, flinging the front door open and sprinting outside. She spun around to face him just as he stopped in the doorway, hands resting on the wall as he looked outside, a sigh escaping him.

Hermione had to be seeing things again. That was the only explanation for it.

"You're not seeing things. You never were," he spoke again.

"This can't be happening," she whispered with a shake of her head.

Before any more words could be uttered, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway captured her attention. She looked over her shoulder, watching as her father stepped out of the car with a bag of groceries.

"What are you doing outside, Hermione?" he asked.

There were no accusations in his tone, only genuine curiosity. Hermione fought to think of an excuse.

"I was…looking at the plant," she gestured to her left. "I wanted to see if it needed any more water."

He hummed, fingering the plant before walking inside, walking right through her little problem. Her father suddenly shivered, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"We should probably get that heater checked," he said, but Hermione wasn't paying attention to him.

She was too busy looking at the blond boy who had taken to following her father into the kitchen. She followed along with wide eyes, watching as he pushed the table aside just as her father went to set the groceries down. They landed on the floor in a heap, and her father cursed.

"Oh, shoot…"

Hermione wasn't listening as he went on about lack of sleep and long days at the office. Hermione had seen what happened as clear as day, and any doubt she had was erased as the boy before her threw her a devilish smirk.

"Want to give me a hand?"

Hermione blinked, eyes resting on her father with parted lips.

"Um…yeah. Yeah, sure," she replied, slowly walking past her new friend as she bent down to grab the groceries.

Later that night, Hermione stood by the window, arms wrapped around herself as the rain poured down outside. The rest of the evening had been lived on autopilot. She hadn't seen him again since before dinner was being made, and part of her still doubted what she had seen exactly. She thought about calling her friends, perhaps even Ron, but decided against it. She looked down at the bottle of prescriptions in her hand with a grimace.

So she wasn't crazy, after all… Hermione decided right then that this new revelation terrified her more than anything. That meant that everything that had happened in the past year had been real. Every nightmare, every terrifying face and clawed hand that had been reaching out to grab her… It had all been real. With a heavy sigh, she made her way towards the bathroom, flushing the pills with ease before hiding the empty bottle underneath her sink.

Her train of thought came to an end as she made her way back to her room.

He was there, standing by her window, the low lighting of the lamp illuminating his features. He was tall, taller than her father with pale blond hair resting atop his head. He was on the leaner side, but not unhealthily so, and Hermione hesitantly approached him. The last time she'd encountered one of these things, it had tried to slither throat. She halted all movement when he turned to face her, angelic features rendering her speechless as his bright, grey eyes met her own.

Neither one of them said a word. Truth be told, Hermione didn't know what to say. Ghosts were real, and one was standing right in front of her.

He suddenly smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting just the slightest as he leaned his shoulder against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head to the side.

"I'm Draco Malfoy."

Draco Malfoy had died in 1893, cold and lonely as the sickness had spread through his body faster than the doctors could heal him. He'd be seventeen years old, only two months shy of his eighteenth birthday, leaving behind two parents in the process. They didn't know what it was, didn't know how he'd contracted it nor how it'd spread. He'd died alone…

He didn't remember much, especially the specific details about his death, but he remembered loving to read. He recalled the love he felt for his mother, and the seeds of resentment that had slowly been planted towards his father. He did remember that he was his family's sole heir, already in preparation to take over whatever it was that his father did. He was a smart boy, haunting the house for over a century, and acquiring all sorts of knowledge about the rapidly changing world around him. He had a silver tongue, and a morbid sense of humor, hence why he'd hidden her things. The longer spirits linger, the stronger they grow, and the more attached they become, he'd told her. And yet…

"You can't leave the house…," she'd said one night.

"No, and believe me I've tried. Who wants to be trapped in the place where they died forever?"

She frowned, looking out of her window from where she sat on her bed. That was very…sad. Hermione often thought about what he must have gone through during his last days. She didn't want to imagine how awful he must have felt during his last hours, only to spend a century roaming the halls of the same house he'd died in.

"Don't look so blue. I've long made my peace with it," he said.

"I suppose," she said, standing. "I'm still so relieved to know that I'm not crazy."

There was a long silence before he eventually spoke.

"That's why I revealed myself to you, Hermione…"

She turned around, looking at him with a frown, confusion swimming along her features. He took a step towards her.

"I saw you and your family fighting that day. The day I… I didn't mean to break the lamp, I still don't know what came over me, but I hadn't expected you to see me when I was trying to clean up the mess. No one had ever seen me before…"

A troubled look crossed his handsome face.

"I heard them talking about sending you away, and a few nights after that one too," he sadly told her.

Hermione looked down, already suspecting this.

"I knew that there wasn't anything wrong with you, and I didn't think it was fair. I figured that it was only a matter of time before you really believed it yourself, and those pills," he scoffed. "God, those pills."

"I flushed them," she murmured.

"Good. The way they treat you, like you're some sort of unhinged animal… It's disgusting," he spat, lip curling over his teeth.

"They're only worried. I…I set fire to a friend's house. It wasn't intentional," she began, walking back over to the window.

She had never told the story aloud before, the real story, anyway. Everyone back home thought that she was some psychopath with a pyro kink or something. They'd latched onto her like it was a witch hunt, putting out article after article until there was too much vandalism over her house to even attempt to clean off. It had been…horrible, to say the least.

"His house was haunted. Harry had come to us, telling all of us about everything that had happened in the house so far. At first, we didn't take it too seriously. It was an old house, and old houses make noise. Everyone knows that…"

She sighed.

"Then one day, we were all hanging out there, and I saw it. I saw one for the first time. She was old, and her eyes terrified me to the core. We had all run out of there screaming, and we tried our best to forget about it. I couldn't forget though, because after that, it seemed like I was seeing them everywhere. It was like that night had triggered something, and suddenly I was never alone…

"The night of the fire, we had tried…" she shook her head with a scoff. "We had tried to exorcise the house. It was some stupid thing that we'd found on the internet, and naturally it was a sham. It had only made her angrier. She tried to kill us, and I had tried to set her on fire. It had spread, and before we knew it the entire house was up in flames."

She could feel him behind her as he listened, and she turned her head to face him, watching as he did the same.

"Harry ended up in the hospital, still is, actually. I tried to tell my parents the truth, but…"

Hermione didn't need to elaborate on how well that had gone.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he sincerely said, reaching out towards her before thinking better of it.

She craned her head to look up at him, eyes drinking him in as he stood over her, a somber expression on his face. She threw him a genuine small smile.

"It's okay. I know, now that I'm not crazy, just…special, I guess."

The months that followed were better. There were no more incidents, because, well, Draco was her friend. She knew that any unexplainable noise or occurrence was just him, and she had even grown to welcome them as time went on. Whenever her parents left the house, he'd make his presence known, and she'd have someone to talk to again. She still talked to Ron and Ginny on the phone twice a week or so, but for some reason, she never told them about Draco.

The last time they'd encountered a spirit, she had been trying to kill them, and something in Hermione told her that they wouldn't understand her newfound friendship. Draco was nice, when he wasn't being a bit of an ass, and Hermione was growing to really like him. Perhaps, a little more than she was willing to admit. There were times when she would stay up half the night, simply talking to him. She liked to hear stories about what he could remember from his life, and he liked to hear more about the outside world. After all, the last time anyone had lived in the house was seventeen years prior. It was odd, but, over time, she could honestly call Draco her best friend.

She wasn't sure if that was a good thing. After all, he was a spirit that was well over a hundred years old, and he couldn't even leave the house. Besides, she had a boyfriend…

"We've missed you…"

Hermione wrapped her arms around him, holding back a sob as her chest ached. As much as she had finally been enjoying her new home, she still missed her friends, Ron especially. It was a shame that Ginny couldn't make it, but she had been so worried about Harry that she couldn't bring herself to leave his side. Hermione had told Ron that she understood.

"I've missed you, too," she murmured as he tightened his arms around her.

"How are you?" he asked, pulling away and brushing a stray curl out of her face.

"I'm okay," she answered honestly. "I'm much better these days…"

"I'm glad to hear that," he said just before pressing his lips against her own.

She kissed him back, interlacing her fingers together behind his neck. They only had a short amount of time to spend together, his mum dropping him off a few minutes prior before taking off. Hermione had always been a part of the family, but after the fire, no one really knew how to receive her. The Weasleys had always trusted her, but since the accident, half of them were unsure of how to feel about her. Mrs. Weasley barely trusted her, at all, anymore, but she trusted her son, and knew that no amount of nagging would keep him away.

"Allow me to give you the full tour," she said, pulling away and grabbing his hand.

They walked along the impressive old house, laughing and enjoying their time together as she pointed out various rooms and paintings that hung along the wall. For a while, Hermione felt like nothing had changed, at all. She and Ron were laughing at stupid stuff like they always used to, just basking in each other's presence. It seemed like the old days where everything was normal before the spirits had forced their way into her life. It had seemed like that, until…

"Woah," Ron exclaimed, jumping back and just barely missing the painting that fell.

Hermione frowned, resisting the urge to look around as she inspected his arm.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. That was pretty freaky," he chuckled, giving her a questioning look.

"The house is clean, I promise," she lied, glancing around.

She didn't see him, but she knew he was there.

"That's good to know," he breathed. "It must be nice after everything, to get some reprieve from murderous spirits."

"Yeah," she halfheartedly agreed.

"Hey," he said, turning her head towards him. "My mum will come around, you'll see. Harry will get better, and everything will go back to the way it was."

Hermione looked down with a grimace. He mistook her mood for worry about everything else. Little did he know that the house was most definitely not clean, and a seed of doubt had been planted, now. She shook those morbid thoughts away, not even wanting to entertain the idea. Draco was her friend.

"How is Harry these days?"

"Better. Much better," he sighed.

"I'm glad to hear that…"

"He asks about you, a lot. He always wants us to make sure that you know that he doesn't blame you," he said, leading her down the stairs.

"I wouldn't blame him if he did, you know," she sadly replied.

He brushed his thumb along her jaw, a small smile on his lips.

"He would never… Just give everything time," he assured.

"If I even have time," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Ron frowned, worry in his eyes.

"They aren't talking about sending you away again, are they?"

"They were a few months ago. Everything seems to be quiet, these days, but I still…," she trailed off, shaking her head.

"Hermione," he said, taking her face into his hands. "I'll fight them if I have to. You know that, right? You're not crazy, we all know it, and we won't let them send you away."

Hermione nodded, closing her eyes as he briefly pecked her lips. He suddenly heaved a sigh.

"My mom will be back soon. I'll try to come back as soon as I can," he promised.

He was right. It wasn't long before Mrs. Weasley was outside, impatiently blowing her horn. She kissed and waved Ron goodbye, a hollowness settling inside of her as she watched his mum drive away. She felt him as soon as she was alone again.

"I know it was you," she said without even turning around.

"I… I don't like him. I don't trust him," he confessed.

She turned around, a look of disbelief on her face as she regarded him in all of his spectral glory.

"So you tried to hurt him? I love him, Draco. I thought we were friends," she said.

His jaw clenched, an unfamiliar look briefly flashing across his eyes. It was gone before Hermione could even really process what she'd seen.

"We are," he desperately spoke up through clenched teeth.

"Friends don't intentionally hurt one another, and hurting him hurts me," she reiterated.

"I'm sorry," was all he said, the words coming out like a whisper.

She heaved a sigh, unsure of how to respond, and instead settled for walking through him.

Draco's behavior from that day forward only got worse. At first, it was just small accidents. Her mother nicking her finger while chopping onions, her father almost tripping over the table and then slightly cutting himself while shaving. The final straw was when her mother had "fallen" down the stairs one day, resulting in a hospital visit. She'd had to stay overnight, and her father had opted to be the one to stay with her.

As soon as Hermione had entered the house, she was rounding on him.

"What are you doing? What is wrong with you?" she cried.

He looked angry, a look that she had never seen on him before in all of the time that she knew him. It was a look that terrified her, a first for her since she'd met him.

"They're talking about sending you away again," he hissed, eyes hard.

Her lips parted as she searched for something to say. No. She was doing better, and they had longed dropped the notion, and she'd told him so.

"They're fooling you! When you're asleep, they talk about it for hours. They stay up, researching and calling around, trying to find the 'best facility for someone like you'."

Hermione reared back, a feeling of betrayal settling in her gut.

"No," she whispered.

"Yes!"

"Th-that can't be…," she suddenly shook her head. "Even if that is true, Draco, that doesn't give you the right to hurt them. You almost killed her!"

"I should have," he fumed.

There was a silence that followed, one in which she stared at him in horror. Draco suddenly blinked, hesitantly reaching out and stepping towards her. She staggered back, more afraid than she'd ever been in her life.

"Hermione," he murmured.

"…what?"

"I didn't- I didn't mean that. They're going to take you away. You don't deserve that. You're happy here, aren't you? With me?" he pleaded, eyes boring into her own, desperate.

She didn't answer, sliding her feet backwards.

"I just… It isn't right, the way they treat you," he explained.

She didn't stop until she was on the porch, turning away from his excuses as she wrapped her arms around herself. She ignored him all night, standing on the porch until her parents got home.

"When were you going to tell me?" Hermione bellowed.

"Nothing has been finalized yet, Hermione. We were only discussing it," her mum tried to placate.

"Hermione, this is for your own good," her father assured.

She shook her head, eyes connecting with Draco's who was leaning against the wall behind them. He had a look of regret on his face, as if he didn't want her to have to go through any of this, as if he had brought this on. Confusion filler her…

"I don't understand," she tearfully mumbled. "I'm better. You've seen that I'm better."

"We found the empty bottle under your sink, dear. We know that you couldn't have taken them all so quickly," her mum confessed.

Hermione's face crumbled, finally accepting that this was really happening. They were sending her away. She would be monitored 24/7 like some child, being fed pills daily. She turned away from them, taking the stairs two at a time as she made her way towards her room.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, suddenly there, beside her.

"I have to call Ron," she murmured, fumbling for her phone.

Draco straightened up, eyebrows furrowed.

"What for?"

"He… he needs to know. They all do," she said.

"I can fix this," he assured.

Hermione scoffed, glancing up at him with sad eyes.

"What could you possibly do, Draco? You're stuck here…"

He didn't respond, and Hermione exited the room in a flurry, phone pressed to her ear as she slammed the bathroom door shut behind her.

A week later, Ron and Ginny were in her living room, waiting for her parents to get home. They hadn't told their mum the full story of why they needed to come, but she'd driven them nonetheless. Hermione sat on the couch in between them, each hand occupied by a sibling.

"They can't do this," Ginny complained.

"They can. They don't believe me. They never have, and despite the fact that I've been okay these past several months, the fact that I haven't been taking my medication is more than enough for them," Hermione quietly said.

She looked around, finding the room oddly absent of a certain someone. He hadn't been as present over the past week, and she found that she wasn't as concerned as she would have been a month ago. His behavior as of late was beginning to worry her, his presence doing more harm than good. There was a time where she had welcomed his silent company, even going as far to call him a friend. She'd liked him, but ever since that night where he'd almost killed her mother, she didn't know what to think of him anymore.

There was danger lurking beneath him that she didn't like.

"I'm gonna get you some water," Ron said, rubbing his thumb over her hand before walking into the kitchen.

"I feel like I've barely gotten to be around you after…after the fire, and now they're trying to ship you off. It's not fair, especially considering that…"

"That I'm not crazy and can actually see the dead? Yeah, we should tell them again, because I have a feeling the ninth time's the charm," Hermione sarcastically replied.

She stood up, approaching Ron as he came out of the kitchen, frowning when he walked past her.

"Ron…?"

He didn't respond, instead walking outside. She followed him, wondering if he was more upset about the news than he was letting on.

"Maybe it won't be so bad, Ron," she tried to assure. "We'll still be able to see each other."

Again, he didn't respond, opting instead for glancing around. There was the most peculiar look on his face, one of wonder as he walked around the yard. She watched as he brushed his hand along a tree, a light chuckle escaping his lips.

"Ron," she called again.

He spun around to face her, looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time. Hermione frowned as he approached, a nervous laugh coming out of her.

"Are you okay?"

Again, she got no answer, only that of his lips firmly pressing against her own. It took her by surprise, but she welcomed it nonetheless. She moaned into his mouth as his hand came up to rest underneath her jaw. His other hand was tangled in her hair before moving down to her shoulder and eventually her waist. It was like he didn't know where to place his hand, wanting to touch all of her at once.

"Are you alright?" she asked, out of breath as soon as she had pulled away.

He gazed down at her with a smile, brushing his thumb along her cheek. He suddenly laughed, briefly pressing his lips against hers again.

"Never better," he said, pecking her one last time just as her parents pulled up.

They both watched as they pulled in, her mother riding with her father that morning.

"Ronald, dear. How wonderful to see you," she chirped.

"It's wonderful to see you, as well, Mrs. Granger," he politely replied.

"Do come in. It's quite nippy out here, don't see how the two of you can stand it," her father offered.

They followed the two of them inside, Ron's hand tightening on her waist. She frowned up at him, and he met her frown with a small smile.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"I told you, never better, Hermione," he sincerely responded.

"You didn't bring me my water earlier," she pointed out.

He suddenly frowned, shaking his head.

"Sorry. I just…I needed a minute. All of this finally hit me, really hit me, you know?"

Hermione nodded in understanding. She briefly noted her parents greeting Ginny, the three of them exchanging pleasantries.

"What brings the both of you here?" her father inquired.

"Hermione isn't crazy, Mr. Granger, and I think that the two of you are making a big mistake by sending her away."

Hermione's eyes widened at his bluntness, expecting him to ease more into it.

"Ron," she quietly scolded.

Her parents appeared to be taken aback, as well. Her father cleared his throat, sitting down.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Ronald, but our decision is final. We're only doing this out of concern for our daughter. We want her to get better. She almost killed her friend because of these delusions," he argued.

Hermione looked down, swallowing down the guilt she felt.

"It was an accident, one that any of us could have made," Ginny pleaded.

"While that may be true, it was my daughter who did it, and her reasoning for doing so…," her father scoffed.

Her mother said nothing, and Ginny looked down, realizing that nothing they could say would change her father's mind. Hermione sighed, squeezing Ron's hand. She knew that it was futile, but she knew that her friends needed to try, for their sake.

"If that is all that you came for, then I'm sorry, but you've wasted your time," he said, leaving no room for any further arguments.

Ron didn't reply, simply glaring at her father with a look that she'd never seen before. It was a look that unnerved her. That look in his eyes still haunted her long after Mrs. Weasley had returned to take them back home. She hugged them goodbye, returning their farewell gestures as they waved at her from inside the car, the look in Ron's eyes still burned into her brain.

That night, Hermione awoke to the smell of smoke filling her nose. She sat up with a gasp, looking around for the fire when she could hear screams coming from down the hall. With a panic, she threw the covers off of her, running out of her room, unsure of what awaited her.

She coughed, spinning around, fighting to right herself and locate her parents' room. She sprinted inside, stumbling to a halt as a horrified cry left her lips. Ron stood next to their bed, pulling a butcher knife out of her mother's back. The sound of it made her sick, and Hermione's vision swam.

"Ron!"

He looked up at her with wide eyes, slowly walking around the bed as he attempted to approach her. Fear gripped her like ice, body trembling as she took in the scene before her.

"Hermione…calm down," he slowly advised.

Hermione's back hit the wall, seconds away from making a run for it.

"Draco," she screamed.

She hadn't seen him in days, but she knew that he was around. She knew that he would help her if need be. She wasn't sure what to think, at the moment, having witnessed her boyfriend murdering her parents. She suddenly coughed, remembering the fire.

"Hermione, it's me! Shh, it's me. Draco," he whispered.

She blinked, shaking her head before taking note of Ron's grey –grey, not blue – eyes. Hermione's lips parted in disbelief, and it wasn't even two seconds later before she ran out of the room. She could hear his pounding footsteps behind her, and she screamed when he tackled her to the ground. He flipped her onto her back, and Hermione clawed at his face.

"Hermione, please," he begged.

"That was you this afternoon, too, wasn't it?"

She'd thought that something was off about Ron, but she had never imagined that Draco would… She didn't even know that he could. Tears were streaming down her face as she fought him off.

"I did this for us! Don't you see? They were going to take you away from me. We'd never see each other again," he whispered.

"You're a murderer!"

"You're my only friend. You're the only one who's been able to see me, talk to me! I love you," he whispered, leaning over her.

She grabbed his hand, twisting it and shoving the knife into his chest. Her eyes widened in shock as soon as his did, finally realizing what she'd just done. The kitchen utensil clattered to the floor, and Hermione sat up, holding Ron as she did so.

"Ron," she called.

He opened his mouth, incoherent sounds escaping as he tried to speak. Pain settled into her gut like a bowling ball, and a harsh choking sound flew from her lips.

"Oh, God," she cried, pressing her forehead into his chest.

She sobbed, glancing around, looking for any sign of him. Did she kill him when she killed Ron? No, that couldn't be right, because he was already dead. She laid him down, sprinting towards her room to get her cellphone when the door slammed in her face. She almost tripped as she backed away, running downstairs instead. She ran into the front door, yanking onto the knob, but it wouldn't budge.

"Let me out," she shrieked.

She banged on the door, the flames spreading at a much faster rate, now. Her heart was thudding in her chest, on the verge of passing out from the fear and lack of oxygen.

"I tried to save you. We could've run away together," he whispered into her ear.

She cringed away from him, turning around to press her back into the door. He stood there before her, looking as handsome as ever with a somber expression on his face.

"I could've made you happy-."

"It wouldn't have been right. You can't just…use people like that," she spat, fresh tears forming at the mention of Ron.

Draco frowned, clearly disagreeing.

"Please, let me out. I'll die in here, Draco," she pleaded.

He reached out, hand going through her, and he sighed.

"…but you'll be with me."

She shook her head, running towards the side table, planning to throw it into the window when she was suddenly slammed to the floor. She couldn't move, and her tears came faster, now, breath coming out in harsh pants. He knelt beside her, the flames making his eyes glow that much brighter.

"I won't let you die alone, Hermione, not like I did."

She screamed, praying and hoping that someone, anyone could hear her. He reached out again, fingers hovering over her lips. Her chest was heaving, fear pumping through her veins. She didn't want to die. She couldn't die. Please, she begged.

"You will die loved."

Her screams echoed into the darkness as the inferno raged towards the sky.