A/n: I wrote the first two parts of this series over three years ago, so when you read you will hopefully see lots of growth. A reader suggested this idea to me and I thought it was great. The first two stories "Attempted Suicide" and "Attempted Murder" were written a long time ago, and the way I write and interpret characters has changed. But reading back, I thought I kind of left things completely up in the air and although its nice for things to be open ended I now think it's too open-ended. So, I hope you enjoy this new installment to the "Attempted" series :) The next part, "Attempted Tears" will not be as long in the making.

Thanks to my amazing beta TheInvisiblePrincess! If anyone is interested, she is up for editing for you too! Preferably Twilight or Harry Potter, but if you desire something else, please message her :)

Attempted Salvage

It had been nearly a month since Hermione's attempted murder charge. No one knew but Ron, Draco, and the girl herself. Thankfully, it had been kept under wraps, but if that idiot ginger kept parading that slut around the blond, she was certain she would blow up again, and this time he may not be around to stop any real damage. If only Granger had her head about her, maybe she would see how big of an over-reaction this was.

He was exiting the Great Hall that day after dinner when he saw the pair talking, and stepped into an alcove to eavesdrop on the two, interested to see whether or not she would blow up at him again. After all, the blond heartthrob had been having some difficultly with emotional turmoil lately after his strange inward confession of falling in love with the girl. The least he could do was make sure she didn't lose her mind.

"I don't know Ron," she was saying, taking a few steps away. "What about her?" She spit the word out like it were venom.

The ginger shook his head, giving her a wide grin. "She's nothing compared to you 'Mione, so don't worry about her. She's old news."

Draco didn't like where this was going, but continued to listen. "Oh Ron, I thought you would never take me back!"

The blond frowned, processing what she said. Was the girl an idiot? He had figured that was Weasley, for jumping boats so quickly and trying out someone new, but now he was certain Hermione was the stupid one in the former relationship, if she were willing to take back a crack head like that. Didn't she understand that he was bad news? Storming out of the alcove he walked up to the pair and gently took the girl's shoulder. She turned.

"Hello Malfoy," she said, tilting her head just slightly. "What are you doing up here?"

I'm making sure you don't screw yourself again. Instead of replying, he fixed the ginger with a brazen look and raised an eyebrow, wondering just where this idea had come from. He should be scared of the brunette between them, considering her harsh reactions to his backstabbing manner. Yet here he was, apparently ready to have Granger again. Something probably happened with the other girl; perhaps she finally got a bloody brain.

"Malfoy bugger off," the redhead said at length, making a shoo-ing gesture with his hand. The blond frowned, but said nothing yet again; he intended to figure out just what Granger had to say to all of this.

"I'm quite comfortable here," he said after a moment, meeting Granger's eyes. She gave him an odd look, but didn't tell him to go away like her male counterpart.

Obviously unfazed by Draco's presence, she turned and faced Ron again. "Um, I think I need some time to think," she said slowly, regretting her earlier outburst. The prospect of having Ron back with her was pleasing, but now that she had a moment to consider, she thought jumping back to him was rather rushed. He did cheat on her, after all.

Weasley looked blown away by her answer, and his eyes flickered between the blond and his ex. "Alright Mione," he said, giving her hand an affectionate squeeze before pushing past Draco, who just rolled his eyes. Could the boy act anymore childish?

"At least you have enough sense not to take him back," the blond grumbled, "you'd probably kill him."

Hermione, however, didn't humor the Slytherin boy, who only a month ago, had kept her from committing a crime worthy of Azkaban, and turned on her heel. "Yes, possibly, but I am not in the mood to talk at the moment Malfoy," she said simply, before she began to walk off.

He watched her retreating form, confused. If the ginger could put her through so much, what made Granger think she could handle more?

She was in her room. After calmly leaving Malfoy, she had bolted. What in the world was going on? So little time had passed between when he pulled her from the water and Ron's new proposal to date again. Things were shifting too quickly for her.

She threw her bag onto the bed but missed herself, and slid down the side to the floor. Her eyes were leaking heavily, and her mind just kept screaming. How in the world had she been reduced to this bipolar mess? Bipolar, when she had never been like that before. And now she was unsure how to feel; did she want Ron back or could she just admit that it was time to let go? Why could she never do that?!

Sniffling, she looked up from her arms. She knew very well where the object of her desire was, and also that going for it was a very dangerous, very bad idea. Yet she could not stop herself from standing and walking towards the dresser drawer where she kept the object hidden. Really, she had never considered doing something like this before, and the only version of physical harm she had ever given into was her attempted suicide into the river. But this time, she reasoned she could do this simply because of stress.

Reaching into the drawer, she grazed her finger over the tip of a blade. Do I want to use this?

He didn't go up to his rooms or in search of Hermione until after dinner. He thought she may need space, and he enjoyed smirking at her ex each time the ginger glanced his way. Was it his imagination or was there a little bit of jealousy in the Weasel's eyes? Whatever it was, he could stand being on the receiving end of that look; it was different from the usual glares shot his way by the boy, but hey, the idiot should be grateful to him. He did, after all, save his butt not long ago from Granger. He should be worshiping Draco if you asked him.

But then, the boy was also trying to get back with Granger, and that would never do. He had come to the conclusion last month that he wanted her, he cared for her, and Weasley would never be good enough for her. Going back to that twit-for-brains would be an utter waste. He planned to help Granger get better, feel better, before he ever started going after her; Weasley would ruin that, though, if he sought out forgiveness and Hermione was foolish enough to give it to him.

He rubbed his head as he continued to climb the stairs. Merlin Granger, where is that brilliant mind of yours? How could you forget the trouble he has put you through so easily? You've lost yourself because of him, and you nearly took him back the moment he asked. That's not you Hermione, and you need to stop letting him push you around. Rounding a corner, he spotted his dorm door and couldn't be happier to see it. He needed a good amount of sleep before he went off to speak to her.

Stepping into the common room, he immediately knew something wasn't right. Not only was the space eerily quiet, but Granger's shoes were sitting on the sofa, and her scarf was thrown onto the table. It was odd, considering that everything else she would've been carrying around today was nowhere to be found. Setting his things down quickly, he removed his school robes to reveal the clothing underneath, and started looking for her.

He was surprised to find her sitting at the table in the kitchen, staring at a small blade. His initial reaction was to tear the blade off the table and toss it out the window, but he figured that would make for an awful lot of drama, and who wanted that? No, it would probably be best to approach Hermione in a much calmer manner, and take the blade away carefully, so she didn't throw a fit.

She had been a little off her rocker lately, after all. Cautiously, he stepped into the room, and took the chair opposite hers. It was only then that she looked up.

"What's wrong with me," she asked, eyes jumping between the new arrival and the blade she had been looking at for the past hour. She had attended all of her classes, mind you, but during each passing period she had skittered upstairs to debate with herself again. The final time had been just before dinner, and she had not gone back down since.

He shrugged, hoping that would cause her to look at him instead of the blade. She did, and he was happy to see that her sole mindset was not the idea of harming herself. Obviously, she was still debating the action.

And you want to go back to this, twat? "Nothing's wrong with you Granger, you're just confused," he said, skittering around the dangerous hobbies she had picked up recently. He didn't know anyone else who could jump from suicide to murder to self abuse so quickly.

"I am confused," she said, reaching out to rub the knife. "I don't know what to do."

Draco's eyes wavered to the knife and he got nervous watching her rub her skin against it. "You can start by giving that to me."

Her eyes snapped back to him, but she pulled her fingers away. "Why?"

He chuckled, reaching out to grab the blade, but her hand landed back on it just beneath his. "Because it won't be a temptation if you don't even have it. Come on Granger, we both know you don't want to harm yourself," he said gently.

She looked skeptically at him, but allowed him to pull the knife from her grip and away from her. She watched him shove it into one of his pockets, before he looked back at her, "Out of sight, out of mind Granger."

She frowned, but again didn't comment. Hermione wasn't sure she wanted the blade back, but at least a part of her did; the part of her that still didn't know what to do about everything.

Slowly, she rested her head against the table, a quiet thud echoing through the space as her head made contact with the piece of furniture. "What do I do Malfoy?"

Not cut yourself? He took a seat beside her at the table, something they had never done before despite all the time they spent there. He watched her for many moments before speaking. "Don't give into the Weasel. Stand strong and refuse him, and make him understand just how it feels to be rejected. Hell, tell him you are dating someone in private if it makes you feel better."

She didn't respond at first, and it took a moment for her to stand and quickly brush away her fallen tears. "That's actually a good point Malfoy," she said, ignoring the stunned look that crossed his face, "Maybe I will have to consider that."

Before he could reply, she turned and left the room, picking up her discarded items from the sofa and walking into her room. He barely spared her a glance as the door shut, the constant whirlwind of emotions circling in his head as he considered that puzzle of a woman.

I wonder what she meant by that?

The following morning Draco found an interesting conversation on his way to potions. Truth be told, if anyone within hearing range had tapped into the pair of Gryffindors conversing just in front of him as they walked they would've been interested too. It wasn't often that students saw two-thirds of the Golden Trio arguing in hushed voices.

"No Ron," Hermione was saying, walking sideways every now and then when the redhead tried to get closer to her. "I told you already. No."

"I don't understand you," he said, and the blond traveling behind them rose an eyebrow, "first you try to kill yourself because I… associated-"

"Slept with in your room-"

"-Lavender, and now that I've realized my mistake you blow me off? What gives?"

"What gives?" she hissed, glaring at him, "what gives is that I'm tired of playing your game, playing the same battle for the same results. I can't just keep letting you drag me around, so you can go back to Lavender the Slut for all I care." She turned to go, but he grabbed her arm and moved the two of them hastily into a nearby hallway, away from most of the initial traffic. His eyes were dark.

"I am not going to ever hurt you again," he said, reaching up to caress her cheek. She wanted badly to slap his hand away, but a part of her yearned for his touch. "I should never have in the first place. Please Hermione, believe me."

"How can I," she asked, her voice shaking. He was being too nice, too nice after everything that had happened between them. "How can I ever believe you?"

"Because I make you feel like no one else does," he whispered, leaning into kiss her. She let his lips press against hers for barely a moment before she snapped her head to the side.

"Ron stop," she said, shoving him back. "I won't do this."

The ginger opened his mouth to say something, but a monotone drawl pierced the air before his voice could. "Yes Weasley, you should stop. People frown upon men who pursue women in the manner you are," said the blond, who was leaning against the far wall. Hermione was surprised to see him there, considering she hadn't even noticed him nearby.

Weasley frowned. "Get lost Malfoy, this has nothing to do with you."

Shrugging arrogantly, he fixed his cool eyes on the girl. "Perhaps Hermione wishes for me to stay," he said, his eyes boring into hers, as though searching for something.

The redhead blinked several times, his face taking on a horribly violent shade of red. "Hermione? Since when has she ever been 'Hermione' to you," he hissed, balling up his fists.

Again, he shrugged. "Since I saved her from taking her own life? Or maybe since I stopped her from taking yours," Draco said, enjoying the Gryffindor's easy temper.

"You-"

"Ron," Hermione cut in sharply, drawing the attention back to her. The ginger's head whipped around as he stared at her, waiting for her to continue, "Just go, please. I already gave you my answer."

He looked shocked. "Hermione are you serious? You want me to leave you here with-"

"No," she cut in sharply, even as her eyes grew watery, "I just want you to go away."

Put off, the Gryffindor turned tightly on his heel and stomped off, not bothering to spare either of them a second glance. It wasn't until he rounded a corner and disappeared out of sight that she allowed herself to slide down the wall, a few tears spilling over. Why was she allowing him to hurt her so much?

Draco watched from his same position, not sure what to do. He had comforted her before in the past, but now she didn't seem to want to deal with anyone. He felt a pang in his heart, and wished for the first time in his life that he was better with comforting people. Releasing a sigh, he walked over to her and extended his hand, palm up. She looked up blandly.

"Well, come on Granger, it's not good leaving you here, alone in the halls sobbing your eyes out," he said, waiting for her to take it.

And despite her lack of motivation to move, she took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet, if only because she had grown to trust the git.

I wonder if he knows that I trust him?