(A/N: If you're a repeat reader and very confused as to why this looks different, read Ch. 4. If you're just tuning in, then don't do that LOLZ. This is a slow build Dark!Harry/Hermione. Remember to review!)

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To Ron Weasely, a day where he didn't get into a row with a Slytherin was a day wasted. At least as far as Hermione was convinced.

"Ron, Ron, Ron- Ron! Ronald! Ron, slow down-!"

"Can't," the tall ginger huffed, yanking Hermione along the bustling corridor by her arm. His hair was a rat's nest and his face was sweaty, clothes twisted and unkempt. He'd woken up late- again, but that was no real suprise- and Hermione had slept through her alarm due to a furious one woman study binge the night before. Neville, faithful as he was, had waited for them, and now all three Gryffindors were late to the Great Hall for breakfast, and on the first day back from Summer break no less.

Behind them, Neville struggled to keep up, squeezing his pudgy body through the tides of students, looking like a drowning baby chicken as he grasped for them helplessly. "Guys, guys, wait up, come on-"

Hermione stumbled as Ron continued to pull her along, getting more irritated by the second. "Ron! Merlin's pants, if you don't stop this instant-!"

"We have to hurry! Snape wants that Moonstone essay the minute we walk in, but if I don't eat before that bloody class I'll drop right dead, I swear I will-"

"My-arm-is-coming-off!" Hermione snapped, finally wrestling her hand away from Ron. "And we lost Neville."

Ron grinned. "Mione, he's always lost."

"Don't be mean." she huffed. They finally slowed to catch their breath and wait for their friend to catch up. Ron's stomach rumbled loudly. He groaned, and she smiled despite herself. "You'll have time for a bit of toast I think." Hermione reassured him.

"You think so, Mum?"

"Ron, honestly..."

Neville finally trotted up, red faced and panting, but with a small smile on his face. "Morning, morning...I think I forgot my cloak. It's alright, we don't have to go back, I'll just get it later."

"Not an option, Neville." Ron muttered. "We're so late, I can feel Filch getting excited now-"

"You want to move aside there, Weasely? This is a corridor, not a pub, though I'm not surprised you can't tell the difference."

The cold snarl came from behind them, instantly recognizable, and made the smiles slip from the third year's faces. Neville actually shivered as they spun around and found themselves eye to eye with a gaggle of Slytherin's, headed by one Draco Malfoy.

Ron's shoulders squared. "Piss off, Malfoy." Hermione's fingers clenched reflexively into a nervous fist when the blonde's lips curled into a smirk. Here we go again...

Business as usual, then. She was starting to think they were destined to do this for the rest of their lives.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Weasely. I'd be in a hurry too, if this was the first time I'd eaten well in three months," Malfoy snickered. Ron's ears flushed a dark pink, and his teeth ground against each other so hard they squeaked.

"Shut up, you-"

"Come on, Drac, I'm starving here. Can't this wait till after breakfast?" Another voice, this one from behind Malfoy. A hard, heavy knot formed in Hermione's chest as Harry Potter stepped around his friend and leaned nonchalantly against the stone wall, bright green eyes bored and disinterested.

Much as she hated it, and much as she tried not to, Hermione found her eyes straying to him and couldn't stop them.

He'd changed since last year...his raven hair was longer than she'd ever seen it, and just as casually messy, obscuring the top rim of his glasses. A tiny portion of his famous scar peeked out from the wild locks, as if refusing to be ignored. He was dressed in a way that did a marvelous job of somehow managing to both flip off and obey the uniform- tie loose, robes undone, collar askew.

"Then go and eat, Potter." Malfoy snorted, not taking his eyes off Ron. Harry scoffed. "And explain to Snape that I left you fighting with some Gryffindors? No thanks."

Yes, he'd changed. He was sharper, meaner, more frigid than before. More Slytherin. It was an abrupt transformation, and it made her the tiniest bit...sad.

"You're not my keeper!"

"Right." Harry laughed, his voice a sharp contrast to the other boy's whining sneer. It was cold and smooth, like liquid silver, and it did...something to Hermione's stomach, something that she wasn't exactly sure was unpleasant or not.

Which was a problem, obviously. Harry Potter's voice should not be making her feel ANYTHING other than uncomfortable.

"Sometimes I think that's all I am. Hell, give me an apron and I could be your dear old mummy."

But at least he was making an attempt to end it this time, before it really began. Ron, of course, took that in the completely wrong way.

"I don't need your help, Potter!"

Hermione had the strong urge to slam her palm into her forehead. Harry cocked an eyebrow and used his heel to casually scrape a bit of dirt from his trainers. "I wasn't offering it, Weasely. Like I said, I'm hungry, and you're in my way. So kindly get out of it."

"Come on, Harry," came a simpering giggle from behind- one the endless Harry Potter fangirls, trying to get in on the fun. "He's a WEASELY, you know you have to talk slower than that..."

Potter didn't even turn to look at the girl that had spoken. "Shut up, Hestia. Draco, seriously. Do you really want to be the reason Hook Nose takes house points? Let's go." Harry huffed.

"How was your summer, Weaesly?" Malfoy snickered, ignoring him. "Was it fun, sleeping in a field with the whole family?" The cronies and groupies giggled and cackled in appreciation, and Ron's face darkened another shade.

"Shut up or I'll hex the prick out of you!"

"I'd love to see you try, Weasely. Go on, give us a laugh."

They were making a scene now. The first and second years coming back from breakfast had stopped to watch the show.

Hermione sighed loudly, scowling. She glanced at Neville, who had gone white and looked like he was trying to apparate away on the spot, and stepped forward. It was up to her, again, as usual. "Ron, come on, it's not worth it."

"Listen to your Mudblood pet, Weasely."

There was a loud gasp. "Take that back, you slimy git!" Ron roared, raising his fists.

Hermione flinched and exhaled sharply, trying to banish the shamed flush in her cheeks. She was not embarrassed to be a muggle born, and never would be. But the way some wizards said it... It made her feel less than a witch. Less than human.

"Draco, come ON." Potter hissed, glancing around the corridor. They were bound to attract a teacher at this rate. But Malfoy was in rare form today.

"What? He's just mad because I'm right, and his family is full of-"

"At least I have a family worth speaking of!"

The hallway went cold, and the mood went from sporting to balancing on a knife edge. Out the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Harry stiffen, and heard the soft sound as his breath caught in his chest.

The jab had been meant for Malfoy, but had found its mark somewhere else. There was an unspoken rule at Hogwarts that in Harry Potter's presence, the mere mention of someone not having a family was never to be made. Even the Gryffindors, no matter how much they might dislike, distrust, or downright hate Harry Potter, followed that rule.

His eyes went glassy behind his lenses, and then a blank look settled over his face. "Shove off, Weasely," he said, cold and quiet. "Move aside."

Hermione recognized his mistake as soon as he opened his mouth. She could feel Neville pulling urgently on the back of her sweater. She winced in (sympathy? Anxiety? Expectance?) and opened her mouth to cut in, but Ron was quicker. Unthinkingly, whipped into a rage, he swiftly turned his anger on the dark haired boy.

"Oh yeah? And how was YOUR summer, Potter?"

Harry's teeth showed in a tight smile. "Peachy. Now get going."

Ron barreled ahead, seeing that he'd struck a nerve. "Yeah, I'll bet. Where'd you go? Aunt and Uncle's, then? Not like you'd have anywhere else..."

"Move, now, and shut up!"

"Oh that's right, you are living with the Malfoy's now, aren't you? Horrible luck, that, but at least they don't beat-"

"RON!"

"I said SHUT UP!"

Neville whimpered as his fingers twitched toward his wand. Malfoy copied the movement, and then Thank Merlin Allmagical McGonagall turned the corner right at that instant, nostrils flaring at the scent of trouble.

"What's all this, then?" she said. "Mr Weasely? Mr Malfoy?" There was silence, and McGonagall sniffed in tightly. "Indeed. Well, I'd suggest you all get to class, before those hourglasses pay the price for your gawking."

Her warning scattered the spectators. Malfoy shot one last murky glare at Ron before shuffling off, Crabbe and Goyle in tow. Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and started to storm away, growling.

"Potter?"

"Yes, professor?"

McGonagall fixed him with an unreadable look in her flinty eyes. Her mouth worked as if she was trying to say something. Eventually, all that came out was-

"Fix that tie, Potter."

"Yes, professor."

As she was dragged away, Hermione couldn't stop herself from looking back over her shoulder at Potter. She watched him stand there for a few seconds more, hands shaking. She saw his throat bob as he swallowed hard, and just before they turned the corner, his flaming green eyes caught hers and held them.

Shivers rattled down her spine at the intensity of his stare, and her tongue dried against the roof of her mouth. Something in his face changed, shifted, fell away, and for the briefest second she could see another Harry Potter- pale, shaken, confused- like looking in a distorted mirror. It stunned her.

A breath later, and the strange vision disappeared. He tilted his head and a small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, before he vanished from her sight.