Spinning on her heels, Hermione stomped across the tent, snatching her beaded bag from her chair. Without a second thought, she headed into the trees away from the boys. Tears streaked down her cheeks, mingling with the rain. Moments from the last seven years flashed through her mind, bringing home a sad, hard truth: they had never been her friends, not really, not like she had been theirs. Real friends would have told her they were together. Real friends, you wouldn't have strung her along, or let someone do that to her. Like everyone else, they were using her for her brains, well the ones who weren't busy hating her for her blood status.