Torn

Disclaimer: None is mine, save for the characters and things you don't recognize.

A/N: Here is a list of things I must blame on the long wait for this chapter: 1. school work 2. new job (go me!) 3. sheer laziness with a touch of writer's block, and for that I am sorry.

I must thank everyone who has taken the time to read review. I'm almost at 300, and oh my god I can't believe it. If I go pass it, I think I'll spontaneously combust.

I try to respond to each and every one of you, but to the anonymous ones, I'm not sure if I can so: Here's to all the anonymous reviewers out there. You are gods. Also to those, who aren't signed but have left your names. I'm not sure if my reply would get to you so here's my gigantic thank you: THANK YOU! TheBlackPearl, Therese Aquino, Lena, Philip Potter, Talion, Darth Potter, Denice, Ness, Chocomaniac, Deb, Mark, Tiff, Jeeb, Jewel Tanka, Lilyflower21, Melodiacat, AltoHermione, and Cupcake. I hope I didn't forget anyone.

****

Dumbledore was the first to move. He scooped Hermione into his arms and cradled her head to his chest as if she was a child.

“Poppy, we will need an extra bed.”

Flustered, Madame Pomfrey brought a hand to her mouth but only for a moment before she quickly rushed to an empty bed and made it ready.

Dumbledore set a limp Hermione onto the bed and placed a hand on her forehead. He shut his eyes for a brief moment and placed the tip of his wand to the column of her neck. Then he nodded and opened his eyes. He looked at Madame Pomfrey who scurried over with small coloured bottles in her hands. The woman rolled up her sleeves and began to work on the girl.

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore cleaned up the mess at Ginny's feet. The broken pieces flew into the bin and the pool of tea dried up.

“Minerva, please send an owl to Miss Granger's current guardians. Tell them I will visit them first thing in the morning and explain everything.”

McGonagall nodded and was out of the room, leaving Ron still frozen in the doorway.

“Mr. Weasley, if you can please check on Harry.”

Ron stepped into the room, shakily and said, “Is she…I mean, is she gonna be…”

“Miss Granger will be alright. The moment has past and all she needs is a goodnight sleep.”

Ron nodded and went behind the curtain to Harry's bed. Dumbledore glanced at the now empty doorway and back to the curtains that encased Harry and Ron. “Miss Weasley,” he said quietly. “I believe Mr. Malfoy is still outside. If you can please tell him to wait for me in my office, I will talk to him shortly.”

Ginny's head whipped to the doorway in mild surprise and back to the Headmaster. She glanced at Hermione; the colour was already flooding back into her cheeks and Ginny let out a breath in relief. Then glancing back at the doorway she said, “He's not what everyone thinks he is.”

“I am aware of that Miss Weasley.”

“You won't let anything happen to him?”

Suddenly Dumbledore looked very tired and his lips turned up in a sad smile. “I cannot promise you anything, Miss Weasley. But I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to prevent Draco from following in his father's footsteps.”

This answer seemed to satisfy her and with one last glance at Hermione, Ginny scooted out the door. She paused in the hallway and looked up and down the corridor.

“Draco?”

“Here.”

He stepped out of the shadows without a sound, his face as pale as ever. His eyes were bright with fright. She was too shaken to be annoyed at him.

“Are you alright?” he whispered.

She didn't answer him for a long while and he could see her eyes darting as she looked into his. She nodded silently.

He took a step towards her and swallowed. “I didn't know,” he croaked.

“It's not important.”

“Yes it is,” he said looking at her intently.

They were silent, then, “When did it happen?”

“My first year.”

His eyes flashed with something that she couldn't make out. He reached an arm out to her but she stepped away from him.

“Hermione could die, Draco,” she said; her voice barely a whisper, but it ran clearly in his ears.

Draco froze and watched the tears fill her eyes.

“Potter won't let her,” he answered gruffly.

Ginny angrily swiped her eyes with the back of her hand and squared her shoulders. “Yeah,” she nodded. “Yeah, he won't.”

“Listen, about what I said earlier…I...” he swallowed once more looking as if it was a great effort to continue. “I'm sorry.”

Ginny shook her head. “I'm not the one you should be apologizing to.”

At this Draco just looked at her with an unreadable expression. Then he nodded.

“Dumbledore wants to talk to you in his office.”

They began walking down the dark corridor, back the way they came.

“So…He's gone?” Draco asked. The light from the flames of the mounted torches flickered across his face.

“For now? Yes.”

“Can I ask how?”

She almost stopped in her tracks to look up at him silently. Draco looked at her and brought a hand to his cheek.

“I think that after that display of affection you so kindly presented in that room before we went to the infirmary, you owe me an explanation.”

“I don't owe you anything.”

“Listen, freckles, I know I was out of line with that comment, and it kills me to say so. But before I talk to Granger I want to know why I'm apologizing.”

Ginny bit her lip. He wanted to know why the Dark Lord had managed to control Hermione.

“You're really going to apologize?”

“For you, yes.”

“Draco,” she sent a glare in his direction.

“Okay, okay. I'll try. I'm not making any promises, but I'll be civil.”

“Thank you.” Ginny sighed. “Draco, I'm sorry about earlier.”

“Don't worry about it. I like a woman with a good swing.”

She looked at him exasperatedly. “Don't. I'm not in the mood.”

Draco nodded and was silent. Ginny sighed. “You cannot tell anyone about what you heard in the infirmary, alright? No one.”

“I don't plan to.”

“Good.”

More silence. She knew that he was patiently waiting for her to talk.

“Dream Walking.”

“What?”

“It's Dream Walking. Somnium gradi-something.”

“Gradior?”

“Yes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You-Know-Who's doing it. To Hermione.”

This made Draco pause in his tracks an Ginny walked ahead of him for a few paces before she realized that he was no longer beside her.

“You're sure? You're absolutely sure?”

“Yes.”

Draco looked at her and his mouth thinned. A stain on the golden children. Finally. But what surprised him was that he wasn't satisfied. He wasn't smug about it. He wasn't smiling. There was something gnawing in the pit of his stomach and it felt oddly like remorse. He didn't like the feeling. Then again, he didn't hate Granger so much that he wanted her to die. Maybe an expulsion, some humiliation, but certainly not death. He wasn't his father. The gnawing feeling wouldn't stop and he cursed inwardly, struggling to keep his face free of any emotion. I'm turning into a Weasley. He thought to himself, but to his horror, deep down, there was an inkling of him that didn't mind this one bit.

Draco wanted to cringe.

Ginny's features relaxed into a semblance of a content smile. She had seen the concern in his eyes. And before he knew it, Ginny had taken his hand and led him the rest of the way back.

*****

Ron's throat was dry. He had just finished explaining all he knew about Hermione's situation. From the night he had found the ring in the common room to the horrific moment of Harry clawing at his head and screaming so vigorously that he thought Harry must have scraped his lungs clean.

He was now standing in between the bed occupied by his two best friends. Torn between deciding on whose bed to stand by, he tiredly stood in the middle and avoided the clucking noises Madame Pomfrey made as she bustled from one bed to the other. He glanced at Harry. The gashes were gone and it was as if they had never existed. His chest slowly rose and fell with each breath he took and his arms rested at his sides. His face was still pale. Ron sighed tiredly and cast a fearful glance at Hermione. Madame Pomfrey was still hovering over her muttering to herself and looking quite shaken.

Ron swallowed. All he could see was Hermione's features twisted into a smirk that did not belong on her face.

“I will have him.” Voldemort's words ran in his head and his throat went dry. He coughed and scrubbed a hand over his face.

There was no time to think. Everything was happening so fast. Ron took a step forward. She looked so small lying in the bed. She took shallow breaths, but whatever Madame Pomfrey was doing to her, it was working. The colour had returned to her face, and if it wasn't for that, Ron would have thought she was dead. His throat constricted. No. Not dead. Not yet. Please, not yet.

His hands clenched into fists and his eyes stung as he struggled to hold the tears that threatened to fall.

Won't cry. She's not dead, so I won't cry. She'll be fine so there's not point in crying. Don't cry.

He blinked furiously and soon became aware of a hand resting on his shoulder. Ron looked up at the Headmaster with stinging eyes.

“She's fine?” he croaked.

“Yes, Ron. She's fine.”

And that was enough.

****

Hours passed and the moon began to fade as the sky took on a rosy hue.

“Headmaster? Miss Granger is waking.”

Dumbledore nodded and stood. Ron raised his head from his hands and bolted to Hermione's bed. Ginny, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, scrambled after him.

Hermione groaned and her eyes fluttered open. Faces swam before her and she blinked to clear her vision.

“Ron?”

“I'm here, Hermione. Right here,” Ron said moving closer to her. She turned her head to face him. He looked horrible. His hair was a mess and dark circles shaded his eyes.

“You need sleep,” she remarked.

Ron laughed weakly, relief etched over his features.

“Yeah, I'll get right on that.”

She sat up and glanced around the room.

“Where's Harry?”

“He's still in bed. He hasn't gotten up yet,” Ginny said.

Hermione nodded.

“Is he alright?”

“He is just fine, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore spoke up.

Hermione turned to look at the foot of her bed and the Headmaster smiled kindly down at her. “You gave us quite a scare, Miss Granger.” And with those words the events of the evening all came rushing back to her, leaving her breathless and pale. She brought a hand up to her head.

“Oh Merlin, Professor I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to try and hurt-”

“Clearly things were out of your control, Hermione. There is no need to apologize.”

“I'm so sorry Professor. I tried to tell you. I really did.”

Dumbledore raised a hand and smiled understandingly at her. “Ron has told me everything. I have long feared that Voldemort was Dream Walking, and your friends have confirmed my suspicions.”

“Here, child. Drink this. It will calm you down.” Madame Pomfrey handed her a cup and she accepted it with shaking hands. The sweet liquid slid down her throat and spread warmth in her belly.

“Now I understand that you are tired and have been through a great ordeal, but I need you to tell me what you were dreaming. Try not to leave anything out,” Dumbledore said gently with his hands folded in front of him.

“Headmaster, don't you think that this could wait?”

“Please, Poppy, it would be much better if Miss Granger were to say everything now so she can get some rest. Now please, Miss Granger, tell me. What did you see?”

Ginny took Hermione's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She looked up at the many faces that gazed down at her. Ron gave her a fleeting smile, but his forehead was creased in worry and his eyes held a tinge of intrigue that he wasn't able to hide. Dumbledore stood passively and waited for Hermione to speak. With a soft clucking sound Madame Pomfrey left to check on Harry.

Hermione braced her hands on the bed and pushed herself up to a seating position. Ginny adjusted her pillows and Hermione took a deep breath. What had she dreamt about?

Flashes of Emma sitting on the floor with Orla's head in her lap; the air ridden with chunks of marble as jets of red shot through columns and sliced through walls; hands that weren't her own grasping a wand and pointing it desperately at the rushing Death Eaters; a girl named Adel, barely 13, arms caked with blood that wasn't hers; memories of an 11 year old child's life playing before her eyes. “Hurry,” she had said before her body was wrecked with spasms Hermione couldn't feel.

“I was in her head. I was seeing everything through Petra's eyes,” Hermione croaked. Ginny offered her a glass of water, but Hermione shook her head in refusal. “I know where they are. I know what he's doing to them.” Her throat constricted and her hands trembled.

Orla and Emma, Adel, and Petra. Fourteen, thirteen, and eleven. The rest of the girls before them Hermione didn't know, but their names, ages and faces ran through her mind in wisps of memory that she knew was not her own.

She raised her eyes to look at Dumbledore and said in a shaking whisper, “They're so young.”

“But they have courage that surpasses their age,” Dumbledore said.

Hermione looked at him silently. She brought a hand up to the ring that dangled around her neck.

“I couldn't control her movements or her thoughts. I was just a spectator.”

“What did you see?” Dumbledore implored.

Hermione refused to look at Ron and Ginny and focused her gaze on a spot at the bed. “Petra was chained…” Hermione started and once she began her retelling she found that she couldn't stop. When she was finished she finally glanced up to look at those surrounding her. Ginny stared at Hermione with widened eyes and Ron's face was a white sheet.

“Did the transfer of memories occur immediately after the spell hit Petra, or did anything happen before that?” Dumbledore asked.

“It happened straight after, professor.”

“And you did not feel anything?”

“No, not a thing, professor. What happened?”

“A reversal. It was a common occurrence within Dream Walking. The Brothers knew how to trigger it as well as prevent it, but Voldemort of course isn't performing this act accordingly, therefore the host and the source, being you Miss Granger and Miss Manalo were able to connect on a certain level.”

“Is this a good thing, professor?” Ginny asked.

“Regarding the circumstances, yes it is, Miss Weasley. With the reversal Miss Granger was able to communicate with Miss Manalo and exchange important information.” He looked thoughtful for a moment before asking, “Miss Granger, did Harry give you anything before you fell asleep?”

Hermione looked puzzled for a moment. “Why, yes. He found me a book and a…rose. Oh dear. Oh Harry, how could you?”

“What? What did he do?” Ron asked.

“It seems Harry has been doing a bit of research on his own time as well,” Dumbledore mused.

“I don't understand,” Ginny murmured.

“As I have told you earlier, the reversal was a common occurrence in the Dream Walking process. A reversal as strong as the one Miss Granger and Miss Manalo experienced however could only come to pass through a certain spell. The subject must ingest, or in Miss Granger's case, inhale particles of the potion that was sprinkled onto the object.”

“So Harry made the potion and sprinkled the stuff on the flower he gave to Hermione?”

“So it would seem.”

Ron glanced at Hermione, bewildered and noticed her cheeks flushed in anger. He could only guess how Harry had managed to get his hands on the ingredients. He cast a wary eye up at Dumbledore but the old man only twiddled his thumbs and glanced at the ceiling.

Ginny swallowed a yawn and Dumbledore looked down at her with a warm smile.

“Well, it's quite late and Miss Granger needs her rest.”

“To be honest, after tonight I don't think I ever want to sleep again.”

Dumbledore smiled sadly at her comment. “But we all must face our demons, Miss Granger, no matter how terrifying they are.”

Hermione opened her mouth then shut it. She looked up at Dumbledore, opened her mouth, and shut it once more, shifting her gaze to her clasped hands. She fleetingly glanced up at Ron with eyes shining with worry. “So I…” she swallowed the lump in her throat. “I didn't hurt anyone?” she said in a quiet voice.

She looked up at Ron as if pleading for a sign, for some aspect of comfort from his frozen form. Yet he just stood there, rooted to the spot, his throat dry. He didn't know what to say; all he could see and all he could hear was Hermione smirking. Hermione winking; Hermione standing, feet planted firmly on the ground, wand raised; Hermione raising the cup in the air thanking Dumbledore for the tea. No. None of that wasn't Hermione. It wasn't her. It was Him. Knowing this made him want to throw up, hide in a corner and wring someone's neck.

Ron was mildly aware of a voice, sounding much like Harry's, repeating something. A steady mantra berating him for his insensitivity and carelessness.

Say something you idiot! Say something!

“N-No. No. You didn't hurt anyone. We're fine,” he managed to croak.

The voice continued to shout at him, telling him to hold her, rub her back, clutch her hand, but his body didn't react. It couldn't.

So Ginny took it upon herself to give the comfort that Ron couldn't seem to provide. She took her hand and smiled, somewhat weakly, but encouragingly at her and said, “We're safe for the moment, love. He's gone, so don't you worry. Everything's going to be alright.”

She sounded oddly like their mother.

Ron's mouth almost twitched into a smile at the thought. Almost. Instead he managed to nod mutely, and tried with all his might to pour what comfort he could give her through his eyes. Somehow, Hermione could sense it and she nodded at him.

Dumbledore turned to Ron and Ginny. “And I believe that it is time for the two of you to go back in your dormitories.”

“What about Harry?”

“He needs his rest, and I will stay by his side until he awakens.”

Ron hesitated at Hermione's bedside.

“It's alright, Ron. I'll see you two in the morning, goodnight.”

“Right. Goodnight Hermione. Night, professor,” Ron said.

Ginny said her farewells and with a final worried glance at Harry's bed she followed her brother out the door.

“We've got to find out who's next, professor.”

“We will have plenty of time to think of that after you have a good night's sleep, Miss Granger.”

“I promised Petra I'd come back for them.”

“And I swear you that I will do everything in my power to ensure that you keep that promise.”

Somewhat satisfied with his answer Hermione nodded, settled onto her pillows and turned on her side. She watched Madame Pomfrey pull aside the curtains around Harry's bed and she breathed out a sigh as Harry came into her view. He was sleeping peacefully now.

Madame Pomfrey headed over to her bed. “Drink this, dear. It will give you a dreamless sleep.”

Hermione gratefully took the cup in her hands and once she was finished she settled back onto the bed, her eyes never leaving Harry's form.

Soon fatigue overwhelmed her and her eyes drooped. She felt lightheaded and her surroundings dimmed as her body began to relax. Her mind stopped spinning and grew hazy.

She was mildly aware of a deep voice wishing her goodnight, and she felt someone pull the covers up to her chin. She smiled sleepily in thanks and with a murmured “Goodnight, dad,” she shut her eyes and fell into a deep and thankfully dreamless sleep.

A sad smile clung to Dumbledore's face as he looked down at her. With hands clasped behind his back, and an acknowledged bob of the head to Madame Pomfrey, he walked to a chair by Harry's bedside and sat down.

*****

“You had no right, Harry,” Hermione said.

“I know. I'm sorry, but I was only trying to help,” Harry said in a pained voice.

“And it only made matters worse.”

“But we know where he's keeping them now, don't we?”

“He could move them, Harry.”

Ron paused in the doorway to the infirmary. He had awoken to troubled nightmares and couldn't go back to sleep, so he had just lain in bed waiting for sunrise and wondering when would be a good time to go back down to the infirmary. Six thirty seemed to him to be the right time, and he had quickly changed and crept out of the boy's dormitory. Now the voices of his best friends reached his ears and his shoulders sagged in relief. They sounded well.

“Then we can try it again,” Harry said resolutely.

“No it's too dangerous.”

“I'll do it.”

“Don't be ridiculous, Harry. You can't. He's not controlling you.”

There was a pause and Ron inched into the room, not sure if now was the right moment to interrupt. They could be…occupied. He made a face.

Thankfully Harry spoke up again. “I'm not going to let Him take you, Hermione.”

“But there's nothing you can do, Harry.”

Another pause. Ron inched closer. Harry had said nothing, but Hermione must have clearly seen something on his face because suddenly she let out a vehement, “No.”

“Hermione-”

“You absolutely will not, Harry.”

“If I go now- if I finish this-”

“No, Harry! I said no. NO.”

“You can't tell me what to do.”

“You're right. I can't, but I can hex you to this bed and no one can stop me.”

Ron could just picture the amused look that he knew was now plastered on Harry's features. Oh, mate. Don't. You'll only make it worse.

As if in answer to Ron's thoughts, Hermione said sternly, “Don't you dare smirk at me, Harry Potter. You don't believe me? Well I will do it. You move from this bed, you even mention or think of rushing out and playing the hero, and I will-”

Oh just give her a kiss, mate.

And sure enough, Hermione's speech was cut short and Ron almost laughed out loud. The silence went on for far too long though and as the minutes ticked away, Ron began to feel uncomfortable. He was contemplating on whether to clear his throat and make his presence known or leave when Harry's breathless voice reached his ears.

“If I had known that that could work, I would have done that the first time I had met you.”

“And I would have been horrified, slapped you across the face, and fed you Trevor.”

“Neville would've been crushed.”

“Don't think Trevor would be too happy either,” Ron muttered.

They didn't appear to have heard him though and Hermione said, “Hmm, yes. Then I guess you'd just have to settle for the slap then.”

“That's no fun.”

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. “How I ever got involved with you is beyond me.”

“I think it's my irresistible charm and dashing good looks.”

Ron held back a guffaw.

“And your modesty too, I gather,” Hermione said dryly.

There was a sound of rustling sheets. Ron's ears grew red and he shifted his feet, glancing out the door.

“You still mad at me?” Harry asked.

“I suppose not. I just wish you would have told me what you were planning to do. I would have been more prepared.”

“I know, love. I wasn't thinking clearly and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

There was a moment of silence and feeling foolish for spying on his best friends, Ron walked from the middle of the room to the curtains that encased Harry's bed.

“Harry?”

Ron froze.

“Yeah?”

“Promise me you won't go.”

Pause.

“Go where?”

“Don't be daft, you know where. You are not going to face Voldemort alone.”

“In the end, I'll have to be alone, love.”

“Alright, promise me you won't go to him without us.”

“Hermione-”

“No. Harry. You're going to promise me that you won't be stupid and go off on your own. When you do face him we'll be there.”

“But you could get hurt.”

“I think it's a little too late for that now.”

Something inside Ron clenched painfully at those words and he heard Harry sigh heavily.

“It's all my fault. If I've never met you then-”

“That horrid troll would have gotten to me and I'd be just another Moaning Myrtle. Now enough of that nonsense. Thinking like that isn't going to get us anywhere, Harry. You've met us and we love you and we're not going to let you go. So I want you to stop with all of that `my fault' rubbish. You're only wasting time that could be spent doing something productive.”

Ron took this moment to step forward and pull the curtains aside saying, “She's right you know.” Harry and Hermione looked up at him and their faces brightened in greeting. Ron turned his attention to Hermione and continued, “But you could've been quick about it and said, `Shut it, you're being stupid.'”

“Got the emotional range of a teaspoon, right Ron?” Harry said dryly.

“I'd like to think of it as more of a matchbox, but we wouldn't want to upset Miss Head Girl, right?”

“Good morning, Ron,” Hermione said from her perch on the chair beside Harry's bed.

Ron grinned. “Morning.” He took a seat on the chair at Harry's right. “Good to see you awake, mate. Gave us quite a scare last night, what with you screaming and all.”

“Yeah, er, sorry.”

“What Ron means to say is,” Hermione gave Ron a shrewd look and smiled gently at Harry. “Are you feeling better?”

“I'm a bit tired, but other than that, I'm fine.”

“Did you talk to Dumbledore?” Ron asked.

“Yeah. Woke up in the middle of the night and we had a talk.”

“And..er..did he tell you about…erm,” Ron trailed off, and cast an anxious glance at Hermione who suddenly looked uncomfortable and avoided their gazes.

Hermione could feel Harry's eyes burning into her, but she dared not look at him.

“Yeah,” Harry croaked. “Yeah he told me.”

Hermione took a breath and looked up; her mock indifference didn't fool them. “Let's not talk about that right now.”

“Hermione-”

“Please. Harry. Please, not right now.”

Harry's jaw clenched and she met his helpless gaze, took his hand and squeezed it. Ron was forgotten and he squirmed in his seat, eyes focused on the dirt under his fingernails.

“I'm fine,” she said gently.

When he didn't answer and only stared at her with hardened eyes, she affectionately brought her hand to his cheek. Harry leaned into her touch and sighed.

“Please stop worrying about me, Harry. I'm alright. I'm myself now.”

“And what about later?” he managed to whisper while bringing a hand to rest on the back of her neck, pulling her towards him and pressing his forehead against hers.

“Later doesn't matter. What matters is now. I'm better now.”

“I can't lose you.”

“You'll never lose me.”

There was a moment of silence in which they continued to stare at each other and Ron continued to squirm uncomfortably in his seat; his ears beet red.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “Erm, sorry to interrupt, but er…I'm still here.”

They sprang apart immediately; both red with embarrassment.

“Oh Ron,” Hermione managed to stammer, but Ron cut her off with a smile and a gentle,

“S'okay.”

They grew silent and Ron rubbed the back of his neck. “So..erm..”

“Yeah, I'm ready to talk about it.” They looked at Harry and waited for him to continue. “I was stupid and I thought I could help Hermione by using the reversing spell.”

“How'd you get the ingredients?”

At a sharp look from Hermione, Harry held up his hands in defense and said, “No I didn't take them from Snape.”

Ron looked disappointed, which earned him a glare from Hermione.

“Anyway, I got them each time we had Potions. The ingredients were simple actually, and I managed to sneak some of my share out of the dungeons each class.”

There was a disapproving sniff from Hermione, but Harry pretended he didn't hear it and continued, “I thought I was helping and I know I should have told you, Hermione and I'm sorry.” Hermione said not a word so Harry continued.

“Last night I dreamt I was the snake again and I saw everything that happened. Adel had two Death Eaters guarding her and she managed to get one to go into the room she was in. There was a shout. The other Death Eater raced through the doors and I got a look at the mess she made in the room. She, er,” he swallowed and his voice grew quiet as the picture of what he saw splashed in his mind's eye. “she somehow got his dagger and, erm, stabbed him over and over again.”

Ron blanched and Hermione gasped, looking horrified..

“The other Death Eater ran into the room, but Adel stunned him with the first Death Eater's wand and ran, and…well…you both know the rest.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Ron swallowed audibly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Blimey,” he whispered to himself and looked at Harry who was avoiding his eyes. “You said last night that she was dead…so…so does that mean You - Know - Who…”

“No,” Hermione answered with a shake of her head. “He can't afford to just kill her when he needs her blood for the spell to continue. She must be hurt pretty badly, but she isn't dead.”

“How do you know?” Harry asked.

“Well…last night, Voldemort did say that Adel is still alive.”

Ron looked uncomfortable and Harry's face darkened. He didn't like the idea of the Dark Lord even thinking of his friends let alone controlling them.

“And how do you know that Voldemort's not lying?” Harry asked.

“I just do.”

“You were never one for Divination, Hermione,” Ron said, but she didn't answer him and only cast her eyes at the foot of Harry's bed.

Silence swallowed them once more.

“Alright, enough of this.” Ron suddenly stood. “Yeah it's depressing, but I'm not gonna let us wallow in misery for the rest of the year. We're gonna save them, Harry's gonna squash You- Know -Who, and we're gonna graduate and live until we're old and wrinkly and smell like cabbage.”

“Cabbage? Why cabbage?” Harry asked smiling in amusement.

Ron shrugged. “First thing that came to mind.”

“Bananas are better.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, no thank you. Bananas remind me of the medicine my doctor made me take when I had the flu as a child.”

“A muggle doctor made you drink bananas?”

“No, the medicine tasted like bananas. It was horrid.”

“How about strawberries, then?” said Ron.

“Strawberries? What old person smells like strawberries?”

“A really nice smelling old person?” Harry offered.

“I think I've got a great aunt on my mum's side that smells like lemons.”

“Lemons? What on earth does that have to do with strawberries?” said Hermione.

“Dunno, but all this talk is making me hungry,” said Harry.

“Reckon they should be serving breakfast now, right?”

“Yes, they should be.”

“Well then, what're we doin' here? Let's go.”

“We should wait for Madame Pomfrey to check on Harry first.”

“I'm fine.”

“Yeah, he's great. Come on then, I'm hungry.”

“You're always hungry.”

“Yeah, can't help that though, can I?”

“Miss Granger! Mr. Weasley!”

Three heads shot in the direction of the woman standing by the now open curtains.

“Erm, hi.”

“What are you two doing out of bed? And at this hour in the morning?” she asked sternly.

“Well, erm, it's nearly seven.”

“Mr. Potter, needs his rest-”

“I'm fine.”

“And you Miss Granger, you have been through a terrible ordeal, why are you out of bed?”

“I…I was just-”

“Sapping your strength and taking Mr. Potter down with you, I gather.”

“Really, I feel fine-”

“None of that. Let me have a look at the both of you.” With that she took Harry's head in her hands and looked him over. When she was finished, she moved onto Hermione and finally to Ron, giving him a stern look. His ears reddened.

“Well, you two seem to be alright. Just remember to get plenty of rest.”

“We will, Madame Pomfrey and thank you,” Hermione said, rising from her perch on the chair and leading the way out. Ron and Harry were quickly at her heels and out the door.

****

The Great Hall was scattered with sleepy students; some with their heads buried in a book; others mechanically shoveling food into their mouths; all were blinking sleepily.

“Morning,” said Dean after he yawned loudly.

“You're up early,” said Harry, taking a seat across from him.

“Yeah, I gotta finish filling out these forms before anyone comes in,” Dean said. He eyed the bowl of apples and after much debate, chose a juicy red one, which he bit into with relish.

“Is that for anything Post Hogwarts?”

“Nah, I've already sent in those. This is for the Stenheir feast at Hogsmead. Gotta get myself a costume if I wanna go.”

Hermione paused while buttering her toast, before straightening and saying, “The Stenheir? But Professor Dumbledore said we're not allowed to go.”

Dean flushed before downing his glass of pumpkin juice and picking up his quill. “I know, but Seamus said he found another passage leading into Hogsmead, and well, it's the Stenheir feast, Hermione. Happens only once every four years. I'm not gonna pass this up.”

“I could report you,” she said, eyeing his form.

“But she won't since we'll be going as well,” said Ron, piling food onto his plate.

“What?”

“Oh come on, Hermione. It's my birthday that day and it would smashing if we'd celebrate it at the Stenheir!”

“Lower your voice, Ron,” she said casting furtive glances around the nearly empty room.

“We are not going to the feast. We could get caught.”

“Under the cloak, we won't.” Harry muttered loud enough for only Hermione and Ron to hear.

Hermione glanced at Dean, who seemed to be too busy with his forms. “Harry, what if we're seen? Professor Dumbledore said that students are not allowed to go.”

“It's our last year here, Hermione. We might not get another chance to go.”

“And we'll have masks on, so even if we do pass by a teacher at the festival, they won't even recognize us,” Ron said, but Hermione looked unconvinced.

“And where do you think we are going to get our masks from?” Hermione said, eyeing Ron with a raised eyebrow. “Erm...” Ron's eyes darted for a moment before deciding that the best answer to give was a mouth full of pie. Hermione harrumphed.

“Come on, Hermione. It'll be fun,” Harry said in between forkfuls of scrambled eggs.

Ginny approached the table and took a seat by them. “Morning,” she yawned. “Oh, Dean, is that an order for a costume?” Dean looked up and cast worried glances around him, then nodded. “Well, you better finish up quickly. People are starting to come in.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Is that wise? I mean, filling out those forms here in the Great Hall where Professor McGonagall or Professor Dumbledore can see? If I were you, I'd have done that ages ago, or at least completed them in my dormitory,” Hermione said with a sniff.

Dean look over at the Teacher's table, but Snape seemed too involved with his porridge and Flitwick and Wellington were partaking in a deep discussion about something or other. Dean shrugged in answer and went back to his forms, but he was now hunched over them and scribbling furiously.

“Are you two feeling any better?” Ginny asked, taking Hermione's mind off Dean's disobedience for the moment.

“Much better, thanks.”

“Great. So are you going?”

“Going where?” Hermione asked.

Ginny nodded her head at Dean and his forms. “To the festival at Hogsmead.”

“Of course we are, aren't we Hermione?” At a shake of her head, Ron looked indignant and continued, “But everyone's going!”

“Nonsense, Ron. Dean and Seamus aren't `everyone'. Besides, it's after hours and there'll be plenty of teachers roaming the halls, and the prefects, and the Head Boy and not to mention me.”

“Yeah but as soon as you're done your rounds you'll take off right?”

“Absolutely not.”

“So that's a yes.”

“Go on, Hermione. It's our last year,” Dean said getting up and shuffling his papers.

“All the more reason to not go! Anyway, we don't even have any costumes and it's probably too late to get a form.”

“That isn't a problem,” Ginny said casting a glance at the entrance. “Luckily for you I know someone who can provide them for you.” She ignored the glare of death Hermione shot in her direction and spread marmalade on her toast.

Ron chewed his bacon and eyed Ginny shrewdly. “Who?”

“That is none of your business. All you need to know is that you're going.”

“Ginny, I really don't think that this is a good-”

“It's a wonderful idea, Hermione. It will be fun, and you of all people need to have fun these days.”

Hermione eyed her in silence.

“So it's settled then?” Harry said.

Hermione was silent for a while and the noise in the Great Hall escalated as more people began to fill it. “Fine. Ginny are you sure your source has no problems providing the costumes?”

Ginny's eyes glinted in mirth and she grinned. “Oh, my source won't have any trouble at all.”

“Who is it?” Ron asked.

“It's not important.”

“Sure it is. I want to know where I'm getting the costume from.”

“You're getting it from me.”

“Don't be daft, Gin. Who is it?”

Ginny only sniffed and finished her toast.

Ron's eyes narrowed in suspicion. “He's not a shady character, is he?”

. “A shady character?” Ginny snorted, but Ron continued to look at her sternly and immediately the mirth faded from her features. “Of course, Ron. How did you guess? He's an older man I met randomly on the street during one of my crack binges. Promised me a flat and some candy if I bought some of his costumes.”

“Ginny. This isn't a joke.”

“And I'm not joking.”

Harry started to laugh and Ginny shot him a glare that shut him up. Ron looked at her incredulously and she calmly finished her juice, set her glass on the table and met his stare with a one of her own.

“Relax. He's reliable and goes to Hogwarts-”

“He?!”

Ginny ignored his outburst. “You're getting the costumes and you're going to Stenheir. That's all you need to know,” she said, and gathered her things and got up.

Hermione followed her out of the Great Hall and Ron stood and called after them, “Who is he?!” But Ginny only waved him off and they left.

“Are you sure Draco will want to get the costumes for us?” Hermione said as Ginny followed her to the common room.

“No. But don't worry. I'll make him get them.”

Hermione laughed.

When they finally reached the Fat Lady, Ginny said the password and they climbed through the portrait hole.

“I'll only be a minute,” Hermione said.

“Sure,” Ginny nodded and headed over to one of the tables to chat with one her friends.

Hermione headed up the stairs and brought a hand to the doorknob of her dorm.

“Morning!” a cheery voice called out.

Hermione paused and turned. She smiled and greeted Eran Lot with a smile. “Good morning. Have you been to the Great Hall yet?”

“No. I've just gotten up actually.”

“Well, it's still early.”

“Yeah. I have to go to the library first though, but I think I'll just skive off first class. I have Professor Binns anyway,” Eran said.

Hermione frowned. “I suggest that you don't. I know he's incredibly boring, but Professor Binns does know a lot. And you never know, he might say something important,” she said, but Eran snorted.

“Yeah, I guess. Well I'm starving. I'll see you later.”

“Bye.”

Hermione managed to open the door a crack before Eran paused by the stairs and said, “Hey, did you ever manage to find that book you were looking for?”

Hermione blinked. She had forgotten that Eran was there in the Restricted Section with her. In fact, she had seen the title on the scrap of parchment Hermione had written the title on.

“No. It was lost.”

“Oh. That's a shame.”

Hermione nodded in agreement and turned to walk into the room.

“Do you know who borrowed it last?” Eran said.

“Actually, no I don't. Madam Pince told me that was confidential.”

“Well, if you're desperate you could always sneak into the library and take a gander at her checking book.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Her checking book. You know, the one behind her desk?”

“I know what a checking book is. What I mean, is how do you know about it?”

“Oh, I've never looked at it myself, but like I said, if you're desperate. Or curious. Bye!” And with a wave and fleeting smile, she disappeared down the stairs.

“Eran!”

Hermione walked down the landing, but Eran was gone and the portrait swinging closed signaled her exit. Hermione sighed and went into her dorm to change.

****

“We're going.”

“No we are not.”

“Hermione, it's easy. We use the cloak, go behind her desk, look through it and we'll know who has the book.”

“But it's against the rules, Harry.”

“For once, will you just forget about your Head Girl duties and think of what's important?”

Hermione lifted her chin in defiance. “This isn't the only way.” With a flick of her wand. she sent the ball whizzing in the air to land on the cushion that zoomed around the room.

Flitwick let out a squeal of delight and encouraged his students to perform the same feat Miss Hermione Granger accomplished just now.

Ron grumbled and sent his ball into the air, missing the moving target and managing to hit Seamus square in the face. “Sorry, mate!” he called out then edged closer to Harry and Hermione. “Okay, listen. This book could be the only way we find out how to reverse the spell properly when we meet You - Know- Who-”

“Could. Ron. This book could be the only way. There could be other books out there that have the answer. We just have to look for it!”

“But that could take ages, whereas this could take a couple of days, or hours if we're lucky.”

“If we're caught, we could get expelled!”

“We won't,” Harry said, sending his ball ricocheting off the wall and narrowly missing an oblivious professor Flitwick. Harry winced. “We'll have the cloak.”

“There has to be some charm locking it, Harry. Madame Pince won't just leave it unprotected.”

“It's a book!” Ron said.

“A checking book, Ron. She's not going to leave it.”

“We'll take the chance. How's tonight? After Quidditch practice? Meet us in the Room of Requirement,” said Harry.

“What about my rounds?”

“Do them, and meet us when you're done,” said Harry.

“What if someone sees us?”

“Hope we don't get expelled,” Ron said jokingly, but Hermione gave him a sharp look. “We won't get caught,” he assured her. “Just think of this as if we're knicking food from the kitchens.”

“Well that's not exactly hard, is it?”

“My point exactly,” Ron said, and as if it was a sign for their good luck, his ball zoomed across the room and landed deftly onto the swiftly moving target.

“Oh bravo, Mr. Weasley!” Professor Flitwick exclaimed.

Ron's ears burned, but he smiled with pride.

****

Hermione was pacing. Where were they? How long could Quidditch practice be? She hoped that Ginny wasn't suspicious of anything. If she had he slightest inkling of what they were about to do, she would want to come for sure. And Hermione was not going to allow that.

She sighed and glanced at the door, silently willing Harry and Ron to open it and walk in. The door remained closed. Hermione continued to pace. Open books scattered the table, the couches, and several lay open on the floor. It had taken a while, but several books, wringing hands, and patient sighs later, she had found several spells that would help in unlocking the checking book. Now all she had to do was wait.

Hermione wished she had a nice hot cup of tea in her hands. Several butterbeers wouldn't hurt either.

The door opened.

Hermione froze.

The door shut.

She sighed.

“Quit it, you two. There's no time for games.”

“You're no fun,” said Ron slipping part of the cloak off him and Harry.

“You have the spell?” Harry asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay, let's go then.” And he lifted part of the cloak aside to make room for her.

Hermione moved in between them under the cloak and the boys crouched. Someone's knees cracked.

“Now why does this seem so familiar?”

“Shhh. Don't forget to close the door behind you, Harry. Move in Ron, there's plenty of room.”

“Oh, right. Plenty for you of course.”

Hobbling is an art.

One that the three of them managed to perfect, thank you very much.

What they didn't manage to achieve, however, was a seamless walk with the comfort of having no body parts jabbing sharply into their side. At the moment Ron Weasley was currently experiencing said body part jabbing into said side.

“Ow, Hermione, your elbows are digging into my ribs.”

“Well they wouldn't be if you would just move a little.”

“Right then, I'll just move over and out of your way then, `cause I'm sure Snape wouldn't think a floating arm and leg isn't curious at all.”

“Oh, honestly! There.”

“Thank you.”

“Quiet. Mrs. Norris is coming around that corner,” Harry said.

Sure enough, Mrs. Norris turned the corner, stopped in her tracks and stared at the three of them.

“Think she can see us?” Harry asked.

“I'm not sure,” Hermione said.

“Should I give her a good kick for luck?”.

Hermione turned to glare at Harry.

“No, mate. Save it for the graduation feast.”

“Ron!”

“Only joking, mum.”

Before Hermione could open her mouth to say something, Mrs. Norris mewed and went on her way.

The three of them continued onward, walked into the library and headed to Madam Pince's desk.

“Where do you think it could be?” Harry asked.

“Check the drawers,” Ron said tossing the cloak off of them and holding onto it.

“Lumos. Wait! Let me check them first. There could be an alarm on them,” Hermione said.

“Spoken like a true thief,” Ron said with a chuckle.

She gave him a fierce stare, knelt and tapped the key holes. They glowed bright green for a moment. Then all was well.

“All right?” asked Harry. She nodded. “Right then. Ron? Be ready with the cloak, I'll keep an eye on the map and Hermione, go on with the spells.”

Hermione tapped the key holes once again and whispered the spell. She then placed her hand gingerly on the first drawer and pulled it open carefully. They held their breath. Nothing happened.

Harry grinned, handed Ron the map and moved beside Hermione to look in the drawers. There was nothing in the first two, but looking through the third: “Got it.” Harry said and triumphantly pulled the heavy tome out and lay gently on the desk.

“Let me take care of this now, Harry.”

“Right.”

Hermione placed her wand over the book and muttered several spells. The lock snapped open.

“Brilliant,” Ron whispered. They flipped through to the Restricted Section. “Who is it?” Ron asked.

“Hang on. I'm still looking. My goodness, I never thought so many people would take out these books.” She continued to scan the names.

“Did you find it?”

“Not yet.”

“How's the map?” Harry asked Ron.

“We're fine.”

“Found it!”

“Who?”

“It's a Slytherin.”

“I knew it!” Ron said. “Malfoy must have taken it to his dorm or-”

“No.”

“What?” Harry asked.

“It's not Malfoy.”

“Who then?”

Hermione moved the book towards them and they leaned closer to look at the name scrawled on the page: Blaise Zabini

****

“Zabini? What would Zabini want with a book like that?” Ron asked after they climbed through the portrait hole and he threw himself onto an armchair by the fire.

“I think a more important question would be how we would get it from him,” Harry said, lying down on the couch.

“That's if he still has it,” Hermione said, settling onto an armchair and resting her hands folded comfortably on her lap.

“He has it. He's probably just too big of a git to return it,” said Ron.

“Well we've gotta to find out if he has it, and how we'll take it,” Harry said, the flames reflecting off his glasses as he stared solemnly at the fire still roaring in the hearth.

“Well, we can't use polyjuice. Too late for that now, isn't it? And the invisibility cloak won't work,” said Ron, holding up Harry's cloak.

“We'll think of something,” Hermione said swallowing a yawn.

Ron mimicked her and rubbed his eyes. “Well, I'm off to bed.”

“I'll be up in a bit. Put my cloak in my trunk, will you?”

“Y-Y-Yeah,” Ron yawned. “Sure. Night, Hermione.”

“Goodnight Ron.”

And he disappeared up the stairs.

Hermione yawned and blinked sleepily.

“Tired?” Harry asked.

She yawned in answer and smiled weakly at him. “I'm exhausted.”

Harry inched over on the couch and motioned to her. “Come here.”

She got up and Harry moved over to make room for her as she lay down and curled up beside him, one hand resting on his chest. Her head rested on his arm which wrapped around her; his fingers idly playing with her hair. His other arm encircled her waist and he pulled her closer.

She raised her eyes to look up at him with a small smile. He smiled back and brought a hand up to gently trace the curve of her cheek.

Leaning towards her he brushed his lips against her forehead, her nose, her cheek. He tilted her head up to place a feather light kiss on her chin, and she laughed. Harry chuckled and smiled brightly at her as he teasingly kissed the corner of her mouth gently.

She murmured his name.

His heart clenched in his chest and he was swallowed in her gaze.

She leaned forward, brought a hand up to rest on the back of his head; fingers delving into his untamed hair, and pulled him gently down towards her, catching his lips in a soft kiss; drowning in his scent.

Moments later she pulled away and settled comfortably against him. Bright green filled her vision.

With a sigh, he wrapped his arm around her waist once more and held her.

Caught in each other's gazes, they lay there.

Silent.

Content.

In love.

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