(Alrighty chaps and chapettes, this is the first chapter of Friend or Foe, sequel to No Other Choice! I hope it goes alright :O I'm nervous already! Haha. And feeeck, 105 reviews! OMG. Thank you so very very much to: headbangingtogreenday, and LemonCheese oh yesh! Kill Anthology! Though actually I don't mind Shakespeare, it's Havisham I can't stand. That Romantic, I shall try and post this chappie up ASAP! A hug to AbbyGreenEyes, and Jollypen I actually love your name, haha xD Thankies to ChinaDollMaiden also, I am working speedily with a can of Cherry Coke by my side! Agnofinis: I shall try my best! Thanks also to freak-4-God and blackitee. And finally, but certainly to least, RanyaRavenclaw. You are all amayzing. I deliberately put the 'y' in, btw. Of course, this isn't J.K. I just mess around with the characters as I'm 'mental' xD I own nothing, really, apart from my own little Dramione plot. It's seventh year k. Thanks to t.A.T.u for awe inspiring music and to my Friends box set of all seasons for making me laugh and think of ideas. Thanks also to my regular reviewers, whom I love muchly :P Here it is guyz! Friend or Foe? DSOTM94)

As with all good stories, this one starts with a wedding between a part Veela French girl and a red haired man with slight wolfish tendencies. And with all good stories-modern classics, perhaps- I was wearing a red dress, and Ron had just invited me to dance.

Seeing I was oh-so-slightly miserable, he shook his head at me and told me, "Ok Hermione, you're not with Draco anymore... you're angry, you're hurting... can I tell you what the answer is?"

I raised my eyebrows.

"The red light district! Come on! You're single! Have some hormones!" he encouraged. I just looked at him.

The red light district for you that don't know, is known to the wizarding world as a neighbourhood (No, I won't tell you where it is!) where the sex industry exists. You know. Prostitutes and such.

"But I don't want to be single... I just want to be him again." I mourned.

Victor Krum walked in right then, as if he was looking for me.

"And I just want a million Galleons!"

"Quick, get him away from me! Dance, dance Ron!" I hissed, and he pulled me to his chest and we danced slowly.

Hey. This was kind of…nice.

Oh God.

"Okay, forget this, I need to find someone for you." He sighed at my woebegone face. I sipped at some Butterbeer when he came back looking excited.

"Okay, I have a young Kevin for you."

"How young is young Kevin? Young?"

"He's... our age."
"When we were?"
"Okay, he's just starting his third year."
"Whoa! And this manchild has no problem with how old I am?"
"Of course not!"

"No." I said flatly. "I'd rather go out with…"

I accidentally looked at his eyes.

He opened his mouth, looking quiet. His blue eyes unblinking.

"Hermione…"

He was looking past me.

A lynx.

A message.

"Scrimgeour is dead. The Ministry has fallen. They are coming."

"Quick, let's go!" I jumped to attention as Harry yelled, "Go, go, go!"

I hoped it wasn't too late as I turned on the spot and took us down Tottenham Court Road.

We used to love one another…

I shook my head of the thought and ordered Rona and Harry hastily. "You need to get changed out of those robes, people are already suspicious."

"Damn, I forgot my Cloak. I can't believe it, all last year I kept it on me and-" Harry cursed.

"It's fine, I've got the Cloak, I've got clothes for you both."

"When you say you've got…?" Ron gaped as I swiftly explained how I'd done an Undetectable Extension Charm on my silver beaded bag.

I turned away, slightly embarrassed as in a dark alley, the boys changed.

Now I had to choose.

"I don't know what to do…" I whispered.

"Quick, let's get in here. Under the cloak, Harry." Ron directed us to an all night, shabby café. I ordered us two cappuccinos, but immediately regretted it, as they were foamy, grey and disgusting. I shivered, repulsed.

A couple of blond workmen ambled in and so I and Ron hushed up, talking in murmurs about what we should do.

"I say we find a quiet place to Disapparate and head for the countryside. Once we're there, we could send a message to the Order." I breathed.

"Can you do that talking Patronus thing, then?" asked Ron.

"I've been practicing and I think so," I replied.

"Well, as long as it doesn't get them into trouble, though they might've been arrested already. God, that's revolting," Ron added after one sip of the foamy, grayish coffee. The waitress had heard; she shot Ron a nasty look as she shuffled off to take the new customers' orders. The larger of the two workmen, who was blond and quite huge, now that Harry came to look at him, waved her away. She stared, affronted. I wondered why they'd come in, to not have a drink or something to eat. It wasn't as if they had to hide from the cold or anything.

"Let's get going, then, I don't want to drink this muck," said Ron. "Hermione, have you got Muggle money to pay for this?"

"Yes, I took out all my Building Society savings before I came to the Burrow. I'll bet all the change is at the bottom," I rolled my eyes, reaching for her beaded bag.

Ron, suddenly, lunged across the table, pushing me sideways onto my bench. The force of the Death Eaters' spells shattered the tiled wall where Ron's head had just been, as Harry, still invisible, yelled, "Stupefy!"

The great blond Death Eater was hit in the face by a jet of red light: He slumped sideways, unconscious.

Death Eaters! I panicked inside. His companion, unable to see who had cast the spell, fired another at Ron: Shining black ropes flew from his wand-tip and bound Ron head to foot – the waitress screamed and ran for the door – Harry sent another Stunning Spell at the Death Eater with the twisted face who had tied up Ron, but the spell missed, rebounded on the window, and hit the waitress, who collapsed in front of the door.

"Expulso!" bellowed the Death Eater, and the table behind which Harry was standing blew up: The force of the explosion slammed him into the wall and the Cloak slipped off him.

"Petrificus Totalus!" I screamed, and the Death Eater fell forward like a statue to land with a crunching thud on the mess of broken china, table, and coffee. I crawled out from underneath the bench, shaking bits of glass ashtray out of my hair and trembling all over.

"D-diffindo," I coughed, pointing at Ron, who roared in pain as I slashed open the knee of his jeans, leaving a deep cut. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Ron, my hand's shaking! Diffindo!"

The severed ropes fell away. Ron got to his feet, shaking his arms to regain feeling in them. Harry picked up his wand and climbed over all the debris to where the large blond Death Eater was sprawled across the bench.

"I should've recognized him, he was there the night Dumbledore died," he said. He turned over the darker Death Eater with his foot; the man's eyes moved rapidly between Harry, Ron and me.

"That's Dolohov," said Ron. "I recognize him from the old wanted posters. I think the big one's Thorfinn Rowle."

"Never mind what they're called!" I cried a little hysterically. "How did they find us? What are we going to do?"

"Lock the door," Harry told her, "and Ron, turn out the lights."

"What are we going to do with them?" Ron whispered to Harry through the dark; then, even more quietly, "Kill them? They'd kill us. They had a good go just now."

I shuddered and took a step backward. Harry shook his head.

"We just need to wipe their memories," said Harry. "It's better like that; it'll throw them off the scent. If we killed them it'd be obvious we were here."

"You're the boss," said Ron, sounding profoundly relieved. "But I've never down a Memory Charm."

"Nor have I," I spoke up, "but I know the theory."

With a deep, calming breath, pointing my wand at Dolohov's forehead I said, "Obliviate."

At once, Dolohov's eyes became unfocused and dreamy.

"Brilliant!" said Harry, clapping her on the back. "Take care of the other one and the waitress while Ron and I clear up."

"We need a safe place to hide," said Ron. "Give us time to think things through."

"Grimmauld Place," said Harry.

"Don't be silly, Harry, Snape can get in there!"

"Ron's dad said they've put up jinxes against him – and even if they haven't worked," he pressed on as I began to argue, "so what? I swear, I'd like nothing better than to meet Snape!"

"But –"

"Hermione, where else is there? It's the best chance we've got. Snape's only one Death Eater. If I've still got the Trace on me, we'll have whole crowds of them on us wherever else we go."

I unlocked the door. Then, on Harry's count of three, we reversed the spells upon their three victims, and before the waitress or either of the Death Eaters could do more than stir sleepily, Harry, Ron and yours truly had turned on the spot and vanished into the compressing darkness once more.

A Patronus soared in through the window as we arrived at the familiar house, and landed upon the floor in front of them, where it solidified into the weasel that spoke with the voice of Ron's father.

"Family safe, do not reply, we are being watched."

The Patronus dissolved into nothingness. Ron let out a noise between a whimper and a groan and dropped onto the sofa: I joined him, gripping his arm.

"They're all right, they're all right!" I whispered with relief, and Ron half laughed and hugged me. I didn't want to let go. I needed a hug.

"Harry," he said over my shoulder, "I –"

"It's not a problem," said Harry, "It's your family, 'course you were worried. I'd feel the same way. I do feel the same way."

I felt that old prickly feeling I'd not had for months. The feeling I'd had when I was paranoid about people finding out about me and…you know. I found the courage to say "I don't want to be on my own. Could we use the sleeping bags I've brought and camp in here tonight?"

Ron agreed and as Harry made his way to the bathroom, I found my pyjamas to slip into. I found my old white robe and smiled quietly. "So, it's just you and I, side by side." I grinned at Ron.

"You and I?" he repeated, bewildered.

"Yep." I found the two most precious items I owned in the world, apart from my wand. The snake necklace, and of course, the glass apple. I'd updated it, too. It had taken a lot of concentration but I did it.

I hummed quietly to myself as Ron insisted I lay on the cushions as well as being hidden in my sleeping bag, and I decided that no matter what, I was going to stay up through the night, it was no big deal, really. Just me, Harry and Ron, I thought, snuggling down, my hair falling off my neck in a convenient sweep.

Almost too convenient. It was midnight, now, I was sure of it. The snake swung on my neck as I reared up, and murmured half words to the glass apple incoherently, I was going mad. No wait, that already happened. Ya Soshla S Uma all over again. I had lost my mind, and whether I liked it or not, I needed him.

A candle by the window. It was emitting a slight purple glow, and the slightest hum. I wandered over and touched it gingerly. It quivered. I pressed it with my wand and suddenly, oh so suddenly, the wind was knocked out of me, I was choking, trying to swear and the candle was lit.

There was a knock at the door, and unthinkingly, I didn't even bother to look to see who was there.

My hand seized the handle and madly, I thought of a certain quote. "'Handle' is my middle name. Actually, it's the middle part of my first name."

However, I did not laugh as the door revealed the most beautiful bastard in the world.

My mouth dropped. "I…wha-?"

"Granger." He whispered and as he always had done, took hold of me at once, biting my bottom lip like he always had done. When had he last done that? I thought dizzily. He'd drawn blood once.

It was the night, and it could be us two as I knew this was probably a dream, even though I could feel everything from the firmness of his teeth to the gentle fingers on his hands.

Time to live.

Let's abandon the shame of our secret relationship that was sliced away. Love is an entirely different game. Telling lies, breaking hearts. It's a tricky game of hide and seek-it always made me fucking freak, but for one night, and one night only, I could revel in it.

"Is this real, or a dream?" I breathed on his ear. He looked right at me and replied, "Oh, this isn't a dream, Granger. Far from it."

"Prove it." I commanded.