In Too Deep by the_real_mrs_potter

Rating: R
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 23/03/2009
Last Updated: 14/09/2009
Status: Completed

Hermione Granger is the Dark Lord's most prized Deatheater, having been raised by him since
the tender age of five monthes when her parents were murdered. Now seventeen and higly trained to
kill, she is sent on a mission to befriend Lord Voldermort's enemy, Harry Potter, and lure him
into his clutches. It was supposed to be her most important mission yet, but she never planned on
falling in love with her her target.




1. February 28, 1981
--------------------



**A/N: This story is completely AU, which means not everything will be the same. So please
don't tell me that I got the dates mixed up or something, I'll just whip out my creative
license and wave it in your face! lol.

I've had this story in my mind for awhile and couldn't wait to start writing it! I've
already got the plot all sorted out, which should make for pretty shortish updates. Yayy!**
**Please leave a review and tell me if you like it, because I really haven't read anything
quite like it, so I hope I'm being semi-origianal!

I do not own Harry Potter—JKR does.

Enjoy!

_**

**
** **February 28, 1981****
** It was a cold February evening, the houses occupying Stratford Meadows on the outskirts
of London all covered in a light blanket of snow with their lights still glowing through the
kitchen and dining room windows. Stratford was a higher upper-class community, the residents being
successful businessmen, doctors, and dentists, the houses reflecting their wealth quite fervently.
But of all of the beautiful houses aligned along the black pavement, there was one that always
succeeded in catching the attention of passers-by. It was a three-story Victorian brick house with
beautiful maroon shutters and a forest green door. Everyone in Stratford envied the family who had
recently purchased the house close to seven months ago, for it has just been finished and was
clearly the most extravagant house in the neighborhood.

Although they lived in a community that most people would associate with snotty millionaires, the
Grangers were anything but. Their kindness and compassion for others is what drew them apart from
others of their ward. Dr. Edward Granger and his wife, Emily were the picture of a perfect couple,
and now a perfect family, as Emily had just given birth to a beautiful baby girl a few months
previous. Friends and family of the couple would always gush about the family, telling of how
ecstatic they were about opening their own practice in downtown London a week ago and finally
having the child they had always wanted. They were truly blessed.

Emily Granger had just finished putting her five month old daughter into her highchair, trying not
to get any off the excess sugar still left on her fingers onto her. Baby Hermione giggled as she
watched her mother fiddle with her white apron and straighten her hair into a bun at the base of
her neck. Emily smiled down at her daughter and pinched her check playfully before going into the
kitchen briefly to set the turkey she had just finished baking onto the table. Walking a few feet
down the hallway, she knocked on the oak door that lead into the study and called out to her
husband, who was typing away at his computer.

“Edward, dinner!”

He looked up briefly at his wife and sent her a charming smile. She smiled back and watched him
approach and give her a chaste kiss on the lips. “And what has my little pumpkin cooked for us
tonight?” he asked as they began the short walk back into the dining room.

“Turkey, baked potatoes, and peas” She replied as they arrived.

He inhaled the intoxicating scent of fresh-out-of-the-oven Turkey and felt his mouth water with
anticipation. “Smells delicious, sweetheart.” He called out to his wife, as she walked into the
kitchen.

“And for our little Hermione…” Emily reached into a cupboard and pulled out a can of baby food that
she knew Hermione adored, “some strained carrots”

Hermione clapped her hands together and began to eat her food with her fingers as soon as Emily sat
it down in front of her, both of her parents looking at her adoringly. They tore their eyes away
from their daughter reluctantly and began their own meals, cutting each piece of the turkey
accordingly and serving themselves.

“She's growing up so fast, already eating her own food.” Emily said with a sniff. “It seems
like only yesterday I was holding a newborn baby in my arms and wondering what her name was going
to be.”

Edward looked adoringly at her, “We picked a good one though, didn't we?”

She smiled, “Yes, we did. Who ever knew your obsession with Shakespeare would come in handy?”

“Certainly not you! I do recall you threatening to burn my copy of `A Midsummer Night's
Dream' after I accidently call your mum Hermia.” He said with a chuckle at the memory.

“It was a well deserved threat. You know how I don't care for reading and the constant
references you make. The only good thing that came from your love of books was Hermione's
name.” She said teasingly, pointing her fork at him.

He feigned shock with an overly large intake of breath, “Well I didn't hear you complaining
when I used that new technique the other night from… oh what was it… *A Woman's Erotica*?”
Emily blushed crimson as she bent her head down, muttering something he couldn't quite make
out. “I just hope Hermione inherits my love of books and not your habit of biting your bottom
lip.”

Although she knew he was kidding, she still had a smart retort at the tip of her sharp tongue. That
response was never heard, for there was a loud noise that seemed to come from the front of the
house. Neither could make out what the noise was, but they could hear the voices of what seemed
like a few men yelling commands at each other coming from the entrance hall.

Edward looked worriedly at his wife and whispered to her, “Take Hermione and hide in the linen
closet.”

Emily made no complaints as she picked up her daughter from her chair and carried her to the
closet. She quickly locked the door behind them and crouched down on the floor, setting Hermione
down on the floor in front of her. “It's going to be alright, baby…” she whispered, stroking
Hermione's cheek lovingly. The baby smiled at her and Emily felt a pang in her chest. She had a
bad feeling about this, but whatever would become of her, she knew she had to protect Hermione with
her life.

Edward grabbed the gun he had hidden in one of the tables and made his way to where the voices were
coming from. His wife had no idea that he possessed the weapon, but after having Hermione he wanted
this house to be well protected, and if that meant a hidden gun, then he would buy one. It was only
a medium-sized pistol, but it was fully loaded and had nice control. He wondered briefly if the men
who had broken in had guns with them as well. Taking a large intake of breath, he hid behind the
entryway and looked around the corner to where roughly five figures dressed in black robes were
standing and holding a whispered conversation. His eyes glanced briefly at their hands and saw that
they didn't hold guns, but what looked to be thin sticks. He furrowed his brows in confusion,
wondering why they would be carrying around sticks.

The whispered tones quickly turned to raising voices as the men seemed to get agitated with each
other. Edward strained to listen as they began to argue.

“The Dark Lord said to pick a house and kill anyone in it, Wormtail, not chicken out and go home!
He wants the Ministry to take him seriously, and what better way than killing those innocent little
Muggles that they are so keen to protect?” The tallest of the men said to one that seemed to be
shaking. Edward was beyond confused at the foreign words they seemed to be using. A Dark Lord? He
had never heard of such thing. And what on earth were a Wormtail and a Muggle?

The shaking man spoke up with a cowering voice, “I-I know, Lucius… but why *this* house? We
don't know them, why should they die for no reason? They could be perfectly good people
and—”

The tiny man was cut off by a voice that sounded like it belonged to someone with a nasal
infection, “Muggles are *not* good people, Wormtail! They forced us to hide away in our own
little community while they go on with their lives like everything is fine. We are forced to be in
hiding and they are out enjoying the world, do you really think that is fair?”

“Well… n-no…”

“I see you still have Potter's Muggle-loving thoughts implanted in that feeble brain of yours.”
He snarled.

The taller man spoke up again, pulling down his hood to reveal a mane of long, platinum hair.
“Right then, we must search the house for any occupants. Kill anyone you find, remember the Dark
Lord's order, no mercy. And Snape, it's your responsibility to burn this house to the
ground when we are finished while I cast the Dark Mark. Apperate straight to headquarters and we
will tell him that the mission is done. Agreed?”

“Agreed” the men chorused.

As they began to separate, Edward knew this was his chance to strike. He saw one pass right by him
and shot his gun, hitting their shoulder blade and causing a low groan to escape from their throat.
Emily heard the gunshot from the closet and flinched at the loud noise, but kept her focus on
keeping Hermione quiet. The wounded man that Edward shot turned around quickly to see him pointing
the gun at him again.

“Get out of my house!” He snarled.

The man just smirked and waved his stick so that the gun flew out of Edward's hand and onto the
floor a good ten feet away from him. Edward stared shocked at the man as he chuckled. “Stupid
Muggle” he muttered as he waved his wand a second time, knocking Edward against the china cabinet
next to him and breaking the glass that contained the expensive china he and Emily had gotten as a
wedding present. His vision blurred and he lifted his hand to rub the back of his head. He heard
footsteps approach him and barely had time to register what was happening when a low voice shouted
“*Avada Kedavara!*” A green light shot out of the man's stick and struck him. Edward saw
no more.

Back in the closet, Emily was doing her best to remain calm. She heard the sound of glass
shattering shortly after the gun shot had been fired and had no idea if her husband was alive or
not. Hermione seemed to nodding off and Emily grabbed a towel from above her to place behind
Hermione's head and rubbed her short mane of cinnamon hair that so closely resembled her own.
It was at that tender moment when the door handle began to shake and her heart beat immediately
quickened. She stared at the jiggling door handle and held her breath. The pursuer seemed to have
stopped trying and she let out a relieved sigh. But as soon as she slumped against a shelf and
closed her eyes, the clicking sound of a door being unlocked caused her eyes to shoot back open and
watch in horror as the door opened to reveal a man in black robes looking down at her with a
smirk.

“Hey, I found another one!” he shouted in amusement behind his shoulder.

To Emily's horror, another cloaked figure approached and stood beside the smirking one and
looked down at her with a disgusted look on his features. “Look, she's got a kid, too.”

Emily cast a fleeting glance to her daughter before she growled at the men, “Don't touch
Hermione.”

“Oh we won't be touching her… or you for that matter.” The smirking man replied in a clipped
tone.

Emily must have looked confused, for the other man spoke up, “Don't worry, you won't feel a
thing.”

She sat, looking at the two men for a second before making any effort to speak. “Where's my
husband?” She asked with a quiver in her voice, scared to hear their answer.

They both laughed as the second one replied, “Dead of course.”

The color washed out of her face as she felt tears spring up in her eyes. She saw no pity in their
faces, no regret. How could someone speak of their killing someone with amusement in their voices?
Was this some sort of game to them?

“I think we should put her out of her misery, don't you, Goyle?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

Emily barely had time to cower or take a last breath of precious air before a bright green light
hit her square in the chest. Both men laughed and directed their eyes to the baby who had just
begun to cry at the limp form of her mother. There was no hesitation as the one called Goyle
pointed his stick at her and shouted the same two words that had killed her parents. “*Avada
Kedavara*!” But no sooner had the spell been cast, a blue opaque dome of some sort formed around
the baby and reflected the curse straight back at Goyle and sent him flying into the wall.

The other man's eyes widened in shock as he turned to see groaning form of Goyle massaging his
head against the stove. Seeing that he was still alive, he turned back to the baby, whose dome had
gone down and was looking at him with wide eyes. He did the only thing he thought he could do, he
shot another curse at her. The dome re-appeared instantly and repelled the curse yet again, but he
dodged it quickly and it shattered against a jar of flour. His eyes were glued to the baby as a
third figure appeared, the one with the long blonde hair.

“What is going on here?!” he screamed.

“The baby… s-she won't die.” He explained feebly.

“What is this nonsense, MacNair?” the blonde yelled him.

MacNair turned to him and replied as calmly as he could through his still-present shock, “She'
reflecting every curse we throw at her… with some sort of shield.”

“A shield?” he asked. When MacNair nodded, he turned to the baby and shot a simple disarming curse
at her. The red light bounced off of the re-appearing shield just like the others and both men
ducked to avoid it. It instead hit the lamp and caused it to crash down beside Goyle's feet,
who whimpered at the loud noise. “Dear Lord” Was his only reaction.

“What should we do, Lucius?” MacNair asked.

He looked to be in thought for a moment, until he spoke softly, “We'll bring the child to the
Dark Lord, and he can decide what her fate will be.”

MacNair nodded and went off to tell the others. Lucius grimaced as he picked up the squirming child
in his arms, her cries wailing in his ears. He yelled at Goyle to get up before returning to the
main foyer where the others were awaiting him. They all looked at the child with mixed expressions
on their faces, from wonderment to disgust.

“Alright, back to headquarters. Snape, cast the Dark Mark while I take the child to the Dark Lord.”
Lucius demanded. Snape nodded in agreement and turned to exit out of the front door. Lucius turned
over to Wormtail, who seemed to be staring off into space, “Wormtail!” he yelled, shocking the man
out of his reverie, “dispose of the house.” He nodded shortly and Lucius dissaparated.

~*~

The Riddle Mansion was settled on a piece of property a few miles away from the town of Little
Hangleton, right next to a small graveyard. It was the perfect location to set up headquarters for
the rising Dark Lord and his followers. It used to belong to him and his deceased relatives until
they passed, or rather, were disposed of. The only worry they had was the old caretaker, who was so
old in his age that he had no care to check on the house at regular intervals. But when he did, the
nearest Deatheater would cast a simple charm to lure him away.

The dark halls were full of floating dim candles and portraits of Salazar Slytherin and his many
conquests. Each room was ornately decorated with dark, foreboding furnishings and long black
drapery to secure privacy. No one really knew why the Dark Lord was being so discreet in his
movements, however. It seemed that he was silently planning something without informing them,
sending them out on missions when they had no idea what they were for. They didn't like this
setup, but no one said that aloud, for fear of the consequences that would ensue if he found out
that they weren't being trusting.

Lucius apparated into the main hall and was relieved to see that it was empty. Who knows what
carrying a screaming baby would do to his reputation? He silently made his way through the wide
hallways and at fast past, eager to get the squirming child out of his arms. He arrived at his
destination quickly and knocked at the door, balancing the baby on his left hip. He heard a muffled
“Enter” and pushed the door open. The Dark Lord was studying something at his desk and looked up,
his expression changing to one of deep confusion when his eyes landed on the baby in Lucius's
arms.

“What is this?” He asked, pointing his finger at the child.

“It's a baby, sir.” Lucius replied at once.

“I know what it is!” He yelled agitatedly at him.

“Right… I mean, of course, my Lord.” He fumbled. “What I meant to say is that this baby repelled
three curses me, MacNair, and Goyle shot at it.”

The Dark Lord's scarlet eyes narrowed, “What do you mean, Malfoy?”

“I mean, sir, that I think this child is magical.” Lucius stated, finding a spare chair from
against the wall and placing the baby in it. She curled up into a ball against the soft cushion,
relishing in the softness and shutting her eyes.

“I told you to go to a Muggle house, Lucius!” The Dark Lord scorned, pushing his chair back and
standing up for the first time, intent on destroying the child himself.

Lucius flinched at the movement, but recovered himself, “We did, my Lord… she's
Muggleborn.”

“But it is unheard of for a Muggleborn to acquire powers so early.” He mused to himself. Lucius did
not answer, but watched as he circled around his desk and stood in front of the baby, whispering
things to her that Lucius didn't recognize. The shield that he witnessed before once again
sprang up over the sleeping baby and seemed to be repelling soft particles of smoke. Lucius assumed
the Dark Lord was using ancient Dark Magic to try and break through the shield, so he remained
silent and observed.

For close to an hour, he stood over her, mumbles ancient curses into her blue dome with the same
result. Finally, too frustrated to continue, he stood up and paced the room. Lucius followed his
slow movements, the flowing of his cloak, the concentration of his features, until he looked back
at the baby with a flash of decision in his eyes. Turning to Lucius he spoke, “She obviously
demonstrates some sort of powerful magic that even I cannot break. So, the solution is simple… I
will raise her as my own. She will make a powerful fighter for our side. Besides, we are going to
need all of the help we can get.”

“Sir?” Lucius asked.

He just smirked, “Take her to the bedchamber next to mine. I would like to monitor her every move
and development.” Lucius nodded and picked up the child in his arms once again, holding back a
grimace. Before he was out the door, he was stopped, “Do you know the child's name?”

“Yes sir, Hermione.” He replied.

“Find out any additional information on her and report straight back to me, understood?”

He received a nod and Lucius left with baby Hermione in his arms. The Dark Lord sat down in the
chair she was sleeping in and closed his eyes. It was not an easy decision, to take her under his
wing. She was a Mudblood, after all. But there was something about her, and it was obvious he could
not dispose of her without dumping her off at the local orphanage. Shivering a bit at the repressed
memories, he sat more straightened in his chair. No, he had big plans for her in the future, and if
they planned out, she could be the single greatest Deatheater to walk beside him.

*Welcome to the Deatheater Elite, Hermione.*

-->



2. Mission Possible
-------------------

**A/N: Soo I guess that I’m not as original as I thought. *Apparently* there are many
stories like this out there. So I’m sorry that my fanfiction reading didn’t extend that far to spot
these other stories. Truth is, this was inspired by a video on YouTube made by Sirrah78, replacing
the R/Hr for H/Hr. But I promise that this story will be different than the others you’ve read…
even though I’ve never read them. So from now on, this story is 100****% original! Everything
‘tis mine! Oh, and my bestie Lauren’s… ‘Cause she helped me out with this chapter, like, a lot. So
thanks Lauren, I LOVE YOU!

Disclaimer: If Harry Potter was mine, Dan Radcliffe and I would be off in Honolulu making babies
right now. That’s all I’m saying ;)**

**Enjoy!

-
** Mission Possible**
** They were in a closed off room within the Riddle Mansion, no sound but the ragged
breathing both of their tired bodies were emitting. Scattered around them were broken chairs and
torn tapestries, in result of the curses being flown back and forth from their breathy voices. They
had been at it for a good half-an-hour; an early-morning training session they had begun since they
were fourteen. It was obvious who would come out victories, but still they continued with their
ritual. Both were scarcely out of breath and close to calling it a draw, but they knew that neither
would be satisfied until a victor was named.

“*EXPELIARMOUS!*” She shouted at the slightly sweating face of her opponent.**
** The disarming charm was easily deflected, causing his blonde hair to blow away from his
face and his eyes to shut at the small gust of wind that came with the spell, relishing in the cool
breeze against his hot face. She took his moment of weakness as an advantage to shout a second
spell at him and catch him off guard. This got the best of him and knocked him on his back, his
wand falling out of his limp hand. She smirked at her conquest, looking over at him and waiting for
him to shout his usual slur of curses at her excellence.

“What the hell, Hermione?!” his voice moaned from the floor.

*Ahh, success,* Hermione thought to herself as she walked over to him, a slight bounce in her
step. When his still unmoving form came into view, she knelt beside him and spoke with her usual
‘I-just-totally-kicked-your-ass-and-now-I’m-going-to-rub-it-in-your-face’ voice, “Man up, Malfoy,
It’s not my fault I always succeed in humiliating you.”

Draco leaned his head upwards to look at her with an amused look on his face, “Yeah, but it’s not
*my* fault you’re the Dark Lords number one hit man and totally advanced in spells that I
haven’t even learned yet because of Saint Dumbledore and his petty obsession with turning us into
his clones.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly, “At least you get to go to school, I’m cooped up hear
twenty-four-seven.”

Rolling his eyes, he sat himself on his elbows and looked her in the eyes, “Not the school speech
again, Mia? You’re the lucky one, staying here, having access to all of these dark materials to do
with as you please.”

“It gets drab after a while, Draco, I’ve told you that. I’ve read every book in here at least twice
and mastered every spell known in Dark Magic’s extended history.” By this time, she was sitting
cross-legged and looking at him with a bored expression, for they have had this conversation
numerous times before.

“Well all of that drabness will definitely pay off in helping out with the conquest of Potter, eh?”
He said jokingly, fully leaning up and giving her a playful shove on the shoulder.

A dark look overcame her features as she felt a heat rise up in her face. He backed off, knowing
that he had made a mistake in mentioning *his* name. If there was one more person who hated
Potter more than he did, it was Hermione. “I told you *never* to mention his name in my
presence, Malfoy.”

“I-I know… sorry I… wasn’t thinking.” He supplied feebly.**
** “Obviously!” she said hotly, “He’s responsible for my parent’s death, do you expect me
to be happy about that?!”

“Well no…”

“Then don’t bring it up again!” Hermione yelled as she got up and stormed out of the room, slamming
the door behind her.

Through the halls she went, steam blowing out of her ears (in the figurative sense, of course). Her
loud footsteps shook the wall hangings around her, each threatening to fall and possibly shatter.
She didn’t care, of course. How dare Draco mention *his* name when he knew what effect it had
on her? She had told him a thousand times, if not more, that the sole mention of *his* name
would result in her hexing his boxers off. Of course, she never ended up coming through with her
threats with him, since they grew up together and all. A soft spot always lingered towards him in
that sense, for him and no one else. Most of the others acquaintances of hers each were too afraid
of her to even try to test her patience. But none of them knew how to do it more than him… the
git.**
** She slammed the door to her bedroom loudly and collapsed onto her bed, trying to vent
her frustrations into her pillow. She felt a small sense of relief as she rolled on her back and
closed her eyes, thinking of the things that always seemed to calm her; the beach, mastering a new
spell, the look of surprise on her victim’s face when she finished them off… *Ahh, that’s
better,* she thought as her body relaxed into her cushions. But before she could nod off into a
peaceful state, there was a knock at her door. Groaning quietly without lifting her head, she
called to the door, “Come in.”

The rat-like face of Wormtail, the Dark Lord’s scrawny assistant, popped into her room. She didn’t
even need to look to see that it was him, for his stench immediately wiggled its way into her
nostrils and made her flinch. “Sorry to disturb you, Miss… but my Lord has requested that you meet
him in his office.”

“Very well, Wormtail, you may leave.” She replied, waving her hand dismissively. But before he
could leave, she added, “Oh, and Wormtail, next time before you come into my room… take a
shower!”

She heard the door close quietly behind him as she sat up and rubbed her temples. Knowing that the
Dark Lord’s patience was anything but high, she forced herself out of the comforts of her bed and
walked the short distance from her bed chamber into his office a few doors down. He never called
her into his office unless it was something urgent, a mission more likely than not, for her to
complete. Knocking softly, she heard a muffled “Enter” after only a moment, and opened the door
into the dark room. He was sitting at his desk, scribbling something onto a sheet of parchment. She
lingered by the door, waiting for him to acknowledge her before she took the seat before his desk.
He looked up at her, none to her surprise, and motioned to the plush chair seated in front of him.
Rolling her eyes slightly at her keen knowledge, she took her seat and waited for him to finish
whatever he was working on. He set down his quill into its brass holder next to him and looked at
her pointedly.

“What do I have to do this time, lead another raid on a Muggle’s home perhaps?” She said
dryly.

He chuckled softly, “You always knew when you had a duty to fulfill.” She only raised her brows and
continued to stare at him, waiting for the answer to her question. “The mission I have selected for
you this time is much more important than a silly little raid; I can assure you of that.”

“Oh? Do I have to assist Snape in the labs again to come up with another—”

“No, Hermione.” He said softly, interrupting her. She tilted her head to the side, gaining
curiosity. “This mission is something that I’ve been planning for a long time, in fact… practically
since you were born.”

She stood up straight in her seat and looked at him with wide eyes, suddenly very eager to hear
what he would tell her next. This was the first time she felt a small fluttering in her stomach at
the mention of a mission with this much significance. “Well?”

“I need someone to infiltrate the enemy from the inside.”

Her face fell slightly, “But Snape already—”

“I know Severus already has base within their walls. But my target is not only Dumbledore this
time.” He said with a slight smirk. She looked at him questioningly before he took pity on her and
continued, leaning forward towards her on his arms, “I need you to enroll in Hogwarts and help me
get rid of Potter.”

She leaned back in her chair, taking all of this in. It had always been her dream to go to a real
school, to learn something other than what the same old books around the mansion held. It had also
been her desire to help some way in finally ridding of Potter and finally clear her constant anger
towards and put it to rest. The Dark Lord saw her look of astonishment and couldn’t help but to
smile to himself, for he knew of her inner most desires.

He spoke again, pulling her from her slight stupor, “I need you to befriend him, no matter how
repulsive it may seem. You need to gain his trust, allow him to welcome you into his little group
of Mudblood-loving friends. By the time you have his full confidence, you will lure him to me,
unprepared, so that we can finally end this pointless war and let Dark Magic once again rule the
Wizarding World.”

It seemed to be an impossible task, even to her ears. How could she befriend her enemy, come past
all of her pre-determined thoughts of him and his kind in order to associate with them and act
civil? The only thing about this proposition was the ending—eliminating Potter. The thought sent a
pleasant shiver up her spine. “Mission possible, my Lord.”

He let a sickly grin spread across his face, “Excellent.” She matched his smile as he leaned back
into his chair, “You shall accompany the Malfoy’s to Diagon Ally this afternoon to collect your
supplies. The term starts in a week’s time, so I expect you to be fully prepared by that
time.”

She nodded, “Of course, sir.”

“I will also be checking up on you from time to time, you will know when and where to find me.”
Once again, she nodded in agreement. He waved a hand towards the door dismissively, “You may
leave.”

She exited with a huge grin on her face and began the walk back to her room. But before she could
open the door into her room, a pair of strong arms pinned her against the door. She smiled up at
his smirking face looming over her as he leaned down to kiss her passionately, their mouths
clashing hungrily. He tasted her sweet mouth with his tongue as one of his hands ran possessively
up the inside of her thigh and groped at the milky skin. She moaned into his mouth as he began to
caress her in time with their thrusting hips. His mouth left hers to make a trail down her neck as
she writhed beneath him, her hands running up and down his muscular back. Their eyes met and each
saw lust reflected in them. Hermione reached behind her and opened the door, dragging him in by his
collar.

Too impatient to continue in this sate of overdress, he pulled his shirt above his head and looked
down at her once again, daring her to make the next move. But, instead of pushing him up against
the bed like he desperately wanted her too, she looked up at him with excitement in her eyes and
whispered, “I’m going to Hogwarts!”

His mouth dropped open in shock as he stared at her, “Are you serious?”

She just nodded and began to jump up and down, hugging him tightly around his neck. He encircled
her in his arms tightly and returned her embrace. When they pulled apart seconds later she looked
up at him once again, “Can you believe it, Draco? I’m finally going to an actual school!”

Knowing their moment was over, he leaned down to pick up his shirt and pull it back over his head.
“That’s great Mia, really. But how did you manage to let him to let you go?” She led him over to
her bed as she explained everything that has transpired just a few minutes ago. He listened
intently and by the time she finished, his mouth was agape again and he was looking at her with
astonishment on his face. “You have to befriend *him?*” He said, staying conscious of saying
his name.

“I know it sounds bad, but it all has a good outcome, right? At the end of it all, he’ll be gone,
and it’ll all be because of what *I* did! Isn’t that fantastic?” She asked feverishly.

“Yeah—it’ll be a relief not to have him on my back anymore.” He said, with a slight joke to his
voice.

“Precisely, so everybody wins! I get to go to school and help get rid of Potter for good, and you
get to… well… get to go to school with me!”

“And bask in the glory of Potter’s non-existence.” He added with a slight poke to her
shoulder.

“Yes, that too.” she corrected. “Oh! And I also have to accompany you to Diagon Ally this afternoon
for supplies.”

“Alright, well were supposed to leave in around an hour or so…” He said, looking over at her with a
sneaky smile.

She gave him a wicked smile in return, “Well I guess we have some time to burn then, don’t
we?”

Hermione pulled him down by his collar so that he loomed over her, “Yes… that we do.” He sealed his
sentence with a fiery kiss to her lips and they picked up right where they had left off, this time
without the uncomfortable wooden door pressed against them.

~*~

Diagon Ally was alive with activity as young witches and wizards, along with their families,
shopped for last-minute school supplies the week before the new term started. Hermione was more
than amazed at the colorful shops and even more colorful characters that lined the streets. There
seemed to be a store for every need imaginable and she didn’t know where she wanted to start! She
glanced briefly at the list she clutched in her hands and made her way over to a store with a sign
that read “Madam Malkin’s Robes For All Occasions”, she had a feeling that was where she would find
a robe. She walked into the shop alone, for the Malfoy’s had business to attend to in Knockturn
Ally, and heard a chime sound that announced her arrival into the shop. A squat witch made her way
over to Hermione with a friendly smile. She assumed this woman was Madame Malkin and greeted her
with a polite smile.

“Welcome to Madame Malkin’s, dearie, how may I help you?” she asked in a sweet voice.

“Umm… it’s my first term at Hogwarts and the list said that I needed robes?” she asked in a
questioning voice. She didn’t know how to talk to these sorts of people, was she supposed to be
civil?

“Oh of course—are you a transfer? You seem to be quite older than eleven to my old eyes.” She said
jokingly.

“Yes, I was… home schooled.” She explained smoothly, remembering the term that she had come up with
to explain her lack of knowledge about other Wizarding schools.

“Well that’s certainly something you don’t hear about every day, is it?” She asked knowingly.
Hermione smiled in response and let the older woman lead her to the back, where she saw a variety
of different colored robes folded atop each other in an ordered fashion. Next to them was a raised
platform surrounded by mirrors and a table with a set of measuring tools. “Now, I need you to step
up here so I can take your measurements.”

Hermione complied and stepped onto the platform, looking at herself in the many mirrors. She saw
Madame Malkin wave her wand at the table and a roll of tape fly up into the air and begin to circle
around her waist, arms, and legs. She did her best to stay still as the older woman recorded her
measurements on a clipboard and mutter a spell to a nearby shelf. Hermione watched in wonder as one
of the robes found its way onto her shoulders and adjusted itself automatically to her body. This
was a foreign type of magic to her.

She heard the bell ring behind her and saw Madame Malkin turn and see who her new customer was.
“Ahh, Miss Weasley! I’ll be right with you, dear.”

Hermione saw a petite redhead walk over to where the more luxurious robes were and fondle them
lightly, almost in wonder. She didn’t look over at her long, wanting to get this fitting over with
so she could continue with her other tasks. Her waiting didn’t last long. Madame Malkin stepped
away and admired her work briefly, “You look lovely.”

“Thank you” Hermione replied.

After paying for her things, she left the store and continued down the cobbled street in search for
the next thing on her list. She had only been to Diagon Ally once before and that was only to get
her wand when she was eleven, pretending to be a first year to trick Ollivander. She had only been
down that one cranny, and only remembered how in awe she had been. Apparently, she had never out
grown of that astonishment.

The next stop was “Flourish and Blott’s”, the bookstore. She really dreaded going into this shop,
her taste for books had dried up ever since she re-read the entire Riddle Family library. Taking
one last deep breath of dread, she pushed open the door and froze. This was *way* bigger than
the Riddle Family Library. In fact, she could’ve sworn that it was ten times larger than the dark,
decrypted old room. There were books covering every inch of the walls, and even some on the
ceiling. There were even more genres than she thought could exist! No, there was not only Dark
Magic, there were Charms and Transfiguration and Herbology! She walked down the aisles with a look
of wonder painted on her face, wondering where she should start first.

She stuck to her list at first, picking up the necessities, and placing them in a basket she picked
up at the front of the store. After that she browsed the shelves in search for items that struck
her fancy, little did she know that she wanted to buy a little less than the whole store by the
time she was finished browsing. In fact, by the time she had considered herself done, she was
already nose deep in a copy of “Hogwarts, a History”, a rather large encyclopedia about her new
school. She was too busy reading the first few lines of the Preface “Meet the Founders”, that she
didn’t see where she was walking and crashed into someone, sending them both tumbling to the
ground.

“I’m so sorry!” she frantically apologized, trying to gather up the books that had fallen out of
her basket.

“It’s fine. Here, let me help y—you have *a lot* of books!” The masculine voice of her victim
said in awe.

She giggled, despite herself, “Well I guess I went a little overboard on the back-to-school book
shopping.”

“A little is a bit of an understatement.” He joked back at her.

He made her laugh again. No one had really made her laugh before—except maybe Draco, but he didn’t
count. She wanted to see his face, but her books were still in a mess on the floor, so she quickly
put the rest away and looked up. *Oh my god* was the only coherent thought that made its way
to her brain. She saw emeralds, pure emeralds… in his eyes. How could there be emeralds in his
eyes? Was that even possible? Could you do that?!

“Umm, are you alright?” he asked tenderly.

She blinked, “Yeah… yeah. Thank you for helping me, you really didn’t have to do that. I
practically ran you over.”

He smiled, “Its fine, it wasn’t your fault, just blame the books.” She chuckled as he held out a
hand, “Let me help you up.”

She smiled and took his hand. Hermione was shocked that he could still help her up even with the
additional ten pounds of books she was holding. Balancing herself on her shaky legs, she looked up
once again to the stranger. “Thank you again for your help.”

“No problem. Uhh, I’ll see you around?” he asked uncertainly.

“Sure, yeah.” She said, nodding.

He turned and walked away and she couldn’t help but stare at him as he left. She was too busy
looking at his retreating form that she didn’t hear Draco sneak up behind her. “Starting you
mission earlier than planned, are you?”

She was used to him sneaking up on her, so she was none too surprised that he chose to now. She
turned to him with an eyebrow raised, “What are you on about, Draco?”

He pointed over his shoulder to where the stranger with the emeralds for eyes was paying for his
things; she followed his finger and looked back at Draco with a furrowed brow. He took pity on her
and spoke in a clam, yet testy voice, “*That* was Harry Potter.”

Her eyes widened as she looked back over at “Harry” again, looking him over with her eyes. It
couldn’t be! “But… but… but… the scar!” she defended.

“But… but… but… *the hair!*” he replied in a condescending, yet playful voice, pointing a
finger at his forehead.

She looked back over at the checkout desk for the third time and saw him scratch his forehead,
lifting his ebony hair slightly to reveal a slight discoloration on his skin, as if on cue. Her
blood ran cold and she felt her world start to turn. Anger at her behavior replaced the shock as
she felt the one word she wanted to scream out in the open etch its way out of her throat
“WHAT?!”

~*~



3. Welcome to Hogwarts
----------------------

**A/N: Sooo… a lot of you don’t seem to like the Draco/Hermione pairing in the last chapter. I
even lost a reader over it! I’m sorry that you guys don’t seem to like the pairing, but in my mind,
it is essential to the plotline and is not, I repeat NOT, permanent! For the most part, it’ll be
for the first half of the story. But that’s only if you guys will bear it for that long. *nervous
smile* Again, I really am sorry that you are all strongly against the pairing and I put something
in the chapter that might ease up your feelings a bit… I hope. So please, don’t give up on this
story! And for those of you who are supportive of this pairing, thanks so much for going against
the crowd and not biting my head off** **J**

**Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry… Damnit! He would be my sex machine if I did!**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Welcome To Hogwarts**

Platform 9 ¾ was aligned with parents and siblings bidding the young attendees of Hogwarts long,
unneeded goodbyes. Hermione watched them in disgust, each hug and kiss on the cheek driving her
closer to regurgitating her breakfast. *Honestly, they get to see each other at Christmas, they
don’t even need to say goodbye!* She thought to herself as she continued to follow behind Draco
as he led her to the train. His goodbye with his parent’s had been short enough that she was sure
he was the only person in this platform that wasn’t annoying her. They were soon aboard the train
and she took the time they spent searching for an open compartment observing the narrow hallway.
Younger students were running up and down with their friends, not escaping scolding from the older
students with what appeared to be badges atop their chests. She assumed they were the Prefects that
Draco had told her about. He also had a similar badge on his chest and made it the topic of many of
their discussions about the school and how he gave the Gryffindor’s detentions for any reason he
could think of. Her favorite was that their shoes were untied.

The two found a compartment towards the middle of the train and got situated. Hermione placed
her trunk on the shelf that was hanging above their heads with ease and took a seat across from
Draco and sighed, glancing out the window at the platform once again. Even though she was still
disgusted with the sight of the families, one group in particular still managed to catch her
attention. It seemed to her to be a sea of red, for each of the occupants in the tight bunch had
ginger-colored hair and was being pampered by a plump, short woman who seemed to be wearing a
hand-knit shawl atop a heavily floral skirt and jumper. It was a curious sight for Hermione to see
that a head of black hair was among the group as well, a male. His hand was around the only girl in
the group beside the mother and was talking animatedly to a rather tall boy with a large amount of
freckles lining his nose. Her mind became a daze as she continued to observe the family, completely
entranced for Merlin knew what reason.

“Mia, are you alright?”

Her head turned to see the amused face of her friend smiling at her. She nodded as she glanced
back out the window, only to see that the family had dispersed. Frowning, Hermione turned so that
she was facing Draco, who seemed to be thinking deeply about something. He felt her eyes upon him
and seemed to shake out of his trance, mimicking her and adjusting himself in his seat. “So, it’ll
be a bit difficult for you to get into Potter’s little posse, being sorted into Slytherin and
all.”

“Draco, you know I still have to be sorted like everyone else was.” She said playfully.

“Yeah, but you’re a shoe-in for Slytherin. Every Death Eater, with the exception of Wormtail,
was in Slytherin. But we all know that his being in Gryffindor deeply scarred him for life.” He
replied with a slight chuckle.

She also laughed and they sat in silence for a moment, until she chose to speak up hesitantly,
“But what happens if I’m sorted into Gryffindor or something?”

Both she and Draco shuttered as he responded, “I would have to kill you, I suppose.”

She leaned forward and punched him in the shoulder. As she leaned back into her seat, she spoke
up again, “I guess it’s nothing to worry about, really. I mean, my father should have a tremendous
influence on which house I get into; that, and the fact that I was brought up by your parents for
most of my life.”

Draco nodded as she allowed herself to reminisce at the memories. For the first fifteen years of
her life, she had been brought up by the Malfoy’s due to the Dark Lord being indisposed, courtesy
of one Harry Potter. Yet another reason she hated the bastard— he had destroyed her adoptive
father! Although she didn’t regret being brought up by the Malfoy’s. Hermione wouldn’t be the
person she was today without their guidance. Plus, she had the pleasure (and displeasure) of
growing up with Draco. Their relationship had been a bumpy one to say the least. When they were
younger, they despised one another, could not be in the same room without breaking into an
argument. But, when they were around thirteen, things started to change… a lot. Needless to say,
hormones got to be a bit too much to handle. She did not love him—no she definitely did not. She
could never love anyone. Hermione was convinced that a black hole had replaced where the useless
organ should have been. Draco and she were far from being anything but acquaintances… with
*many* benefits.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?” a tender voice said from the doorway of their compartment.
She was pushing a cart filled with things Hermione had only rarely seen before, brightly colored
objects that seemed to be edible—sweets.

She turned to Draco, only to see that he seemed to be ignoring the woman. Licking her lips, she
nodded her head and decided to take a chance and purchase one of every item on the cart. The
elderly woman seemed to be surprised, but handed her one of each of the items and took the
appropriate amount of galleons Hermione handed her without much say. With a polite “thank-you”, the
woman took off to the next compartment and Hermione returned to her seat and spread the variety of
sweets beside her. Draco looked over at her curiously but said nothing as she opened the first box
and found what seemed to be chocolate in the shape of a frog. As she made a grab for it, the frog
leaped out of the box and onto the window. Using her quick reflexes, she grabbed the frog before it
could climb up the window any further and felt the chocolate slide around in her palm. Not knowing
what to do with the squirming creature, she turned to Draco to see him chuckling at her.

“What’s so funny?” she asked agitatedly as the frog tried to make another escape from the
confines of her hands.

He just shook his head and she growled at him. Staring at the creature, she felt a light go off
in her head. She had heard some discussions about chocolate frogs and the collective cards that
they had in their packages. She took a bite off of the frog and felt the milky chocolate fill her
mouth. She moaned at the sensation and ate the rest of the frog in record time. Feeling much more
content, she leaned back in her seat again and licked the remnants of the chocolate from the inside
of her mouth. Unaware that her eyes were slowly drooping shut, she leaned her head against the cool
window and let sleep overcome her.

~*~

She was shaken from her dreamless slumber by a hand gently touching her shoulder and jerking her
into consciousness. Opening her eyes, she saw three familiar faces occupying the
compartment—Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson—frequent visitors to the Malfoy Mansion whilst she
lived there. She smiled at them as she straightened her composure and lifted her hands over head to
stretch.

“We’re there, Mia, we’re pulling into Hogsmeade Station now.”

She looked out of her window at the darkened, star infested sky and saw that they were, indeed,
pulling to a station. She felt the train come to a smooth stop and followed Draco as he grabbed his
trunk and led the group out of the compartment. Hermione sighed at the cool breeze grazing her skin
and heard a deep voice call from afar, “Firs’ years o’er here! Come on now, don’ be shy!” Looking
over to her right she saw that the voice belonged to a rather large man—well, large was an
understatement. If she said so herself, he looked more like a half-giant! She could only look at
the man for a short time, for Draco was heading toward a line of carriages being pulled by what
seemed to be horse skeletons with bat wings attached to their sides. They looked very foreboding
and she felt a chill go down her spine as one turned to look at her. The other students seemed to
be oblivious to the creatures altogether, probably because they had seen these creatures many times
before. Her eyes flickered over to where Pansy was getting into the carriage and quickly followed
behind her, her uneasiness slowly drifting away.

After the carriage began to move, Pansy spoke up, “So, you must be excited, Hermione, getting
sorted with the first years?”

Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes. Pansy had always been jealous of the relationship that she
and Draco had, pining over him for years and jumping at the chance to try and get the best of
Hermione. “Oh, it’s going to be thrilling, I’m sure. But seeing as we’re going to be roommates for
the next year, I can see you are as excited as I am.”

No one said she ever did.

Pansy pursed her lips and turned to look out the window and Hermione smirked. If she had to bear
to share a room with her, she might as well have fun with it. It was a quiet trip to the school,
and Hermione was becoming antsy. But when she saw the castle come into view, she felt her breathe
catch in her throat as she let a wide grin spread on her face. She was here, at a real school. It
all seemed surreal as the carriage pulled to a stop and she stepped out and craned her neck to view
the tall towers. She followed the sea of students as they entered the school in a daze, taking in
the large staircase and torch lights illuminating the hall. They ascended the steps and came to a
large set of double-doors which opened as they filed into the hall. But before she could enter into
the grand hall that she saw before her, she felt a hand on her shoulder stop her in her tracks. She
turned to see the smiling face of an elderly man with a nearly floor-length beard dressed in deep
purple, seemingly velvet, robes. Hermione looked confusedly at the man as the rest of the students
filed past them, wondering why he was pulling her aside.

“You must be Miss Granger, am I correct?” he asked.

She nodded, remembering the last name that the Dark Lord had told her belonged to her deceased
parents. “I am, and who are you?”

The man chuckled, and she could have sworn that his eyes twinkled. Maybe it was the reflection
of his half-moon spectacles? “I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, headmaster of
Hogwarts.”

“O-oh, of course.” She said shakily. Hermione had heard of Albus Dumbledore, he was the only man
that the Dark Lord had admitted to fearing to her. Of course, she had never seen pictures of him,
only stories from Draco and fellow Death Eaters, mocking him for his Muggle-loving tendencies among
other thing. To say she was intimidated would be an understatement. Although, he didn’t look
intimidating at all, and at first sight she would assume that she could take him. Fortunately, she
knew not to take that risk.

“I understand you are a transfer student?” he asked.

“Yes.” She responded quickly.

“Very well—you know of the sorting ceremony, am I correct?” She responded with a nod, “Well,
then you also must know that you have to be sorted into a house?”

She wanted to tell him that she already knew which house she would be sorted into, but decided
against it, choosing to nod again.

“Follow me, Miss Granger.” he said simply, leading her into the Great Hall that she read so much
about.

As she followed the headmaster, she looked up at the ceiling to see that it was, indeed,
enchanted to look like the night sky. She had thought that her reading about the school in
*Hogwarts, a History* would save her the trouble of being too overwhelmed by it. But she was
pleasantly wrong. The hall was only one part of the grand school and she was already breathless.
How could these people not be staring at all of these floating candles above their heads? How could
they not be speechless at the perfect alignment of the four house tables and one head table?

Gathered at the front of the hall were a bunch of nervous-looking first years, waiting to be
sorted. She had failed to notice the eyes upon her as she entered with the headmaster, for they
were all obviously waiting for him to arrive. She continued behind him as he made his way around
the first years and motioned for her to take a seat on a small stool while a woman in forest green
robes placed a ratty-looking hat atop her head. She was thankful that he didn’t announce her to the
entire school. But her thoughts were put to a cease as she heard a low voice whisper in her
ear.

“What a mind… that of a true visionary.” It mumbled.

She had read about the Sorting Hat as well and relaxed, it would see where she was truly meant
to be. *Slytherin, Slytherin… I want to be in Slytherin.*

“Slytherin?” the hat questioned. “Your mind tells me otherwise, young one. It speaks of bravery
and love… not of any traits belonging to Slytherin. You are quite the opposite.”

She ignored him, he would see.

She could feel the hat raise its eyes in amusement, odd as it seemed. “You, my dear girl are not
a Slytherin… you are meant for… *GRYFFINDOR!*” The announcement of the house she most loathed
was announced loudly and she didn’t register what had happened until the table filled with students
dressed in robes embroidered with scarlet and gold erupted in cheers. *I want a do-over!* She
thought to the hat, but it was un-responsive. There were so many more things she could have said to
persuade it to place her in Slytherin! Why didn’t she register that it didn’t take long to get
sorted?

As the hat was taken from atop her head, she was brought to reality. She was sorted into the
house that she was brought up to hate; the house that *he* was in. Although it was probably
best for the mission for her to be sorted there, she didn’t have to be happy about it. Hermione
walked numbly from her seat and moved over to where the happy, smiling faces were greeting her.
There must be some mistake in *Hogwarts, a History* because she surely did not have
*love* or any of the other stupid qualities that fit into Gryffindor’s students! That ruddy
old hat could not read a mind, that was for sure.

Hermione took a seat next to a girl with fiery red hair. She immediately recognized her from
Madame Malkin’s as the girl who had walked in while she was getting fitted. Normally, she would not
have recognized a face this quickly, but with hair like that, who couldn’t? The girl smiled at her
and Hermione smiled politely in return.

“You’re the new transfer student, right?” she asked in a sweet voice.

“Yeah.” She replied shortly.

The girl put out her hand for Hermione to shake and she took it slowly, “I’m Ginny Weasley. This
is my brother Ron—” She motioned to a boy across from her who blushed as she met his eyes and said
a quiet “Hello” into the table. “And my boyfriend, Harry” she leaned back slightly and Hermione’s
stomach dropped. There he was; the same emeralds for eyes, the scar now so potent on his forehead.
Her target, her enemy… the boy she had to befriend.

She put on a fake smile and addressed the three of them kindly, “Nice to meet you all—my name is
Hermione… Hermione Granger.”

“Nice to meet you, Hermione” Harry said genuinely from beside Ginny. Hermione forced herself to
nod at him politely. Surely he recognized her from the bookshop, and that is why he was treating
her to such a sweet smile. He must feel sorry for her. Well, she would show him!

“Hermione… that’s such a pretty name” Ginny said, catching Hermione’s attention, “Almost poetic…
were you named after anyone?”

“I don’t know.” She answered simply. Hermione had always known her name was a curious one, but
never knew from where it came from—a Grandparent, a poet, a character in a book? Of course, she
would never know.

“Well, I know how scary your first day can be, so please feel free to ask any questions or just
talk.” Ginny said kindly.

“Umm… thank you.” Hermione responded, not knowing what else to say.

She was saved from the inevitable awkward pause by the headmaster standing up and holding a hand
to the crowd of talking students. The hall immediately silenced as they all looked at him
pointedly. “I would like to be the first one to welcome you to another year at Hogwarts. Surely,
this will be another year filled with new beginnings, and happy endings.” Hermione could have sworn
that he looked at her for a moment, directing the last statement at her, but dismissed it as he
continued. “Now, for the usual announcements: The forbidden forest precedes its name, it is
forbidden to those who are not given permission by either myself or one of the other members of the
staff. Also, the curfew has been cut to seven o’clock for obvious reasons. We are in the middle of
a war, and must take every precaution to stay safe.” A few worried glances were exchanged among the
students. “And lastly, I would like to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, one
whom some of you will surely remember, Mister Remus Lupin.”

A pale man with sandy, slightly graying, hair stood up and took a slight bow to the thunderous
applause the came from the students. Hermione had heard about Lupin, he was an Auror at the
Ministry and also a Werewolf, being infected by one of the Dark Lord’s followers, Fernier Greyback.
He had been sacked a few years ago, according to what she had head from Snape, because of his
condition. But Dumbledore was a smart man and he must have pulled a few strings in order for him to
return to his previous teaching position.

Lupin sat back down and Dumbledore continued, “I am sure you are all as hungry as I am, so
please, tuck in!” He clapped his hands and food appeared on the table in front of the students.
Hermione could hear the first years exchange comments of wonder as the older students’ bean to eat
the feast greedily. Hermione loaded her plate with food and felt her stomach rumble. The chocolate
frog had been the only thing she had eaten that day, so it was safe to say that she was hungry. She
was about to take a bite of her chicken when she heard what seemed to be a trash disposal coming
from in front of her. Looking up, she saw that Ron was stuffing his face with mashed potatoes and
chicken simultaneously. The site made her want to vomit.

“Excuse my brother,” she heard Ginny say, “he doesn’t have manners programmed into his pea
brain”

Hermione smiled at her and tried to re-focus on her food, taking careful bites to settle her
stomach.

The rest of the feast passed quite uneventfully, and before she knew it, she was being lead to
the Gryffindor Common Room. She followed the crowd of students to what looked to be a portrait of a
rather large woman in a pink dress. She heard someone speak up to say an odd phrase that she only
heard as a mumble. But she didn’t think on it long, for the portrait opened and people started to
file through. Hermione stuck to the crowd and stepped into it, immediately being blown with a warm
gush of air.

It was a very homely place, well… more homely than she was used to seeing. Instead of cool, dark
colors aligning the walls, there was quite the opposite. Soft scarlet and gold tapestries and warm
colored painting aligned the walls. There was a rather large fireplace surrounded by plush sofas
and armchairs that looked like you could be able to drown in them just by sitting. The thought of
warm colors and cheery atmosphere used to disgust her, like most things that reflected the light
side of magic. But this felt… nice.

A prefect was giving a small tour of the common room but Hermione wasn’t listening, she was too
busy unconsciously making her way over to the welcoming sofas. She was right, you did melt into
them. She felt very at ease, almost as if she was meant to be here. No, she couldn’t start thinking
like that, going soft because of a simple tower. She was just beginning to relax into the cushions
when a soft voice called from beside her.

“You seem to like the feelings of the couch much better than the floor.”

Her eyes shot open to see the smirking face of one Harry Potter looking at her from the sofa
across from where she was laying. “So you do recognize me, then?” she said coolly.

“Well, it took me a while. Your face was too busy ranting apologies to me that I couldn’t
remember anything but that until I saw you laying here.”

“And how, might I ask, would me lying on a sofa trigger your memory?” she asked carefully.

“Simple, the look of relief on your face when I helped you up is almost identical.” He said with
a smile.

Hermione couldn’t help but smile at him. She had to get used to accepting his feeble attempts at
conversation sooner or later. But there was still a small part at the back of her head that told
her that she wasn’t faking her smile.

She was saved from thinking too much on it when Ginny came over and sat on Harry’s lap, his arms
moving around her waist to steady her. “So what were you two chatting about?” she asked
sweetly.

“Oh nothing, Gin— just about Hermione’s similar expressions of relief.” Hermione couldn’t help
but blush and Ginny just looked between the two of them in confusion. Harry saw her look and
carefully explained, “I ran into Hermione at Flourish and Blotts a few days back and knocked the
both of us to the ground.”

“Oh, so this is the girl you told us about!” a voice said from behind her. Hermione turned to
look and saw the amused face of Ron behind her. He had talked about her?

“In the flesh” he said, outstretching a hand towards her.

“You must have had quite the fall, with Harry’s fat arse knocking you down.” Ron said. Harry
threw a pillow at him and Ron caught it, laughing. “Whoa, no need to get all defensive, mate.”

Harry made a face and Hermione couldn’t help but giggle at the playful banter. It was a very
foreign thing to see joking between friends unless she was a part of it. “Alright you two, knock it
off. It’s too late for that.” Ginny said.

“It’s only nine!” Ron complained to his sister

“Well I for one am tired.” She stated. “I’m off to bed to get a good night’s rest” Ginny briefly
kissed Harry’s lips goodnight and hopped off his lap. She looked over at Hermione and smiled, “You
want to join me, Hermione?”

Hermione nodded, wanting to get away from these conflicting thoughts that began to cloud her
mind. She got up from the sofa and began to follow Ginny to the stairs that lead up to the
dormitories. She thought she heard a “Goodnight ladies” from behind them, but refused to
acknowledge it. No one had ever wished her a good night and she didn’t think tonight would be any
different. They passed five sets of doors until they came to the one labeled “Sixth Year”.

“This is my stop; your dormitory is the next door up. Good luck with your roommates, they can be
a handful.” Ginny said with a friendly smile. “Goodnight, Hermione.”

Hermione was speechless. Maybe she didn’t just imagine the first goodnight. But before she could
come up with a response, Ginny shut the door quietly behind her. She turned and walked a few steps
to the last door in the corridor. She bit her lip as she pushed open the heavy wood door and came
into, yet again, another warm room. This one was filled with five four-poster beds, all with trunks
next to them. Hermione looked over at the bed nearest to the single window in the room and saw her
luggage next to it. Assuming that it signified that was her bed, she made her way over to it and
saw that a new set of robes were sitting atop the covers. She looked at the scarlet and gold
embroidering and sneered. She really wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow morning, where surely Draco
would confront her and start asking questions that she didn’t have any answers to. How would she
know the reason she was sorted into Gryffindor? Surely, it was her mind, but that didn’t mean that
she memorized every nook and cranny!

She sighed and cleared off her bed. Slipping into her pajamas, she quickly got under the warm
covers and tried to relax. It wasn’t an easy task, with all of the events of the day swimming
around in her brain and causing her to shift uncomfortably. She didn’t think she would ever fall
asleep and she barely registered the sound of her roommates entering. Hermione feigned sleep,
remembering Ginny’s comments about them, even though she didn’t know what to think of it. It was
after the only sound in the room was reduced to the wind blowing against the bricks outside of the
dormitory that she felt sleep begin to claim her. Then, she fell under the spell of dreamless
slumber once again, her last thought being of the laughter she had witnessed.



4. Day One
----------



**A/N: To be completely honest, it's a miracle that this chapter is up on time! I had a
pre-Easter get together at my Aunt and Uncle's house yesterday, the day I usually begin to work
on the chapters. It was a total bore fest and I brought my laptop to pass the time and got about
half of this done. Then I had to go to an Easter brunch at my Grandparents this morning (getting up
at 8 A.M… not my thing, I usually like to sleep until noon) and brought my laptop once more because
it got boring. So, thanks to my boredom, you have another quick-ish update! Wohoo! I'm also
glad to know that many of you aren't giving up on this story because of the Draco/Hermione
pairing. Thanks so much for being understanding! It means a whole lot :]**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. If it was, Harry would have figured out that Ginny
slipped him a love potion and threw her into the pits of Hell. *ahem***

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Day One**

Hermione woke up rather early that following Monday. The clock next to her bed read six in the
morning and she couldn't have felt more awake. One might wonder how someone could be that
jubilant at such early an hour—and, like so many other things, it had an answer. Today was the
start of her classes. A normal student would dread this day, as they had many others like it in the
years past, but not Hermione. It was her first day of classes ever and she had a right to be
excited, Damnit!

The pre-set alarm on her enchanted clock rung for only a moment before she flicked her wand
(hidden discreetly underneath her pillow) and silenced it, not wanting to wake her roommates and
have them scold her for being such an early riser. Normally, she would just hex anybody who even
came close to ridiculing her, but she was undercover and couldn't afford to make a risk so
early in the term. So, with her dignity held high, she snuck out of her bed and began to get ready
for the day ahead of her.

She started by taking a long shower to wash that nasty feeling she always had in the mornings
away. When she was finished with that, she stepped out into the cool air and proceeded to brush her
teeth and dry her hair using her wand, a trick she had learned when she was younger. Already
knowing what she was going to wear, she dressed quickly in the uniform that had been atop the bed
her first night here; knee-length grey socks, Mary-Jane loafers, a white long sleeved oxford-style
shirt, a grey sweater vest with scarlet and gold trimmings, a knee-length black pleaded skirt, and
a scarlet and gold striped tie.

When she walked out of the bathroom, she could see a few of the girls begin to stir and smiled,
thankful that she had the privilege of having an empty washroom all to herself in the morning.
Hermione figured that in five minutes there would be four cranky girls trying to get ready for the
day with very limited space, and even smaller patience. Walking over to her bed, she grabbed her
book bag and tip-toed out of the room, slinging it over her shoulder as she shut to door quietly
behind her. Just as she adjusted the straps, Hermione heard a muffled voice proclaim “Dibs on the
bathroom first!” on the other side of the door. She chuckled. Even though she had limited knowledge
of other females her age, they were still thoroughly predictable.

She descended the stairs and wasn't surprised when an empty common room was in her line of
vision. No one in their right mind would get up this early, unless you were Hermione. She left the
tower with a bounce to her step and made her way to the Great Hall, humming to herself along the
way. When she got there, she was rewarded with another empty room, although this one being slightly
on the larger side. Hermione found a spot at the Gryffindor table and began to load her plate with
slices of toast and eggs. It didn't take long for the other students to file into the hall, the
moans and groans alerted her a good ten minutes after she had sat down.

“Good morning!” a peppy voice said from beside her.

Hermione looked to her side and saw the smiling face of Ginny Weasley, “Morning Ginny.” She
replied politely.

“How long have you been up?” she asked conversationally.

“A while” Hermione answered simply.

“Oh, well the boys will be down shortly. They aren't really morning people like you and me.”
Ginny began to load her plate with slices of bacon and sausage as she tried again to make
conversation. “So are you excited about your first day?”

Hermione resisted the urge to shout “YES!” in an overly dramatic way, which is what her initial
reaction was to do. But instead, she bit her lip and nodded, “Yeah, I guess.”

Ginny smiled at her again. *How does this girl smile so much without breaking her cheekbones?
Surely, there must be some sort of strain from being* that *happy all of the time?*
Hermione thought bitterly. She was saved the stress of actually thinking about logical explanations
to her observation by Ginny, who, once again, spoke. “I'm always giddy at the beginning of
term… but then, it wears off about halfway through.”

“Why?” Hermione asked out of curiosity.

Ginny looked a little confused at her question, “Well it just gets a tad boring after a while.
And then the homework, Merlin the *homework* gets to be outright brutal. Especially for the
upper years! Did you get much homework where you used to go to school?”

“Not really.” Hermione answered truthfully. “It was mostly hands-on work.”

“Well that must have been fun, then? No homework and all play?” Ginny said with a nudge.

*You have no idea…* “Yeah, it was a very interesting experience.”

Hermione was saved from explaining any further by the arrival of two very tired looking boys
stumbling to the table. She had to suppress a giggle when Ron dumped what looked to be a pound of
syrup into his cereal. But what really made her brake was when Harry mixed his oatmeal with a
pitcher of pumpkin juice. Ginny noticed the two of them as well and joined in on Hermione's
quiet laughter. “Told you they weren't morning people.” She whispered in Hermione's
ear.

“Wuzz zo f'nny?” Ron asked in a groggy voice.

“Huh, whose laffin'?” Harry asked in an equally muffled voice.

Hermione and Ginny just continued to laugh at them until they began to eat their breakfast, then
they were in full out hysterics. Harry spit out his oatmeal onto Ron's face, who was actually
consuming his meal. “Oi!” He yelled at Harry, “I'm eating here, Harry!”

“Sorry mate.” He said, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his jumper.

“Late night, boys?” Ginny asked with a knowing smirk.

Harry and Ron blushed and Hermione could faintly hear the words “last night”, “guys”, and
“firewhisky”. It didn't take a genius to figure it out—either they were hung-over or got too
drunk to get a decent amount of sleep. *Idiots**,* Hermione thought, *wasting their
time by drinking.* She saw Ginny roll her eyes and knew she shared the same opinion.

“Ohh, timetables!” Ginny squealed, setting down her fork and clamping her hands together.

Hermione turned her neck to where Ginny was looking and saw the woman who had put the sorting
hat on her head passing out sheets of parchment. She was wearing another set of dark green robes,
and Hermione wondered vaguely if that was the only thing she had in her closet. The woman came over
to where she was sitting and handed her a parchment with what seemed to be a map attached. She had
a passive look on her face and Hermione found that she couldn't read her like she could many
other people. The woman kept her swift pace and continued down the row of students, bringing
Hermione out of her thoughts.

She looked down at the parchment at saw that it looked like a schedule of some sort. Before she
could get a good look at it, however, the parchment was snatched out of her hands by Ginny, who
looked to be jumping up and down in her seat. Hermione was using all the strength she had not to
curse her. “You have Charms first? Lucky, I'm stuck with Snape for Double Potions.”

“Bummer” Ron said with a mouth full of… well… Hermione couldn't really tell what.

“I have Charms first.” Harry said with a smile. “I could walk with you, if you'd like.”

Hermione had to bite her tongue and push all retorts out of her conscious thought. She was
supposed to be his *friend.* “Sure, that way I wouldn't risk running into a wall because I
was nose deep in the map.”

Harry chuckled and nodded. Hermione couldn't help but let a smile break through. She had to
admit it, his laugh was contagious. That thought was immediately crushed. She wasn't supposed
to *like* this… this… pathetic excuse for a human being! He was her enemy, which meant she
could not find him amusing in any way… unless he was in pain, and then she had the right to
laugh.

“What about you, Ron?” Harry asked.

The redhead shook his head, “I got Care of Magical Creatures.”

“I thought you dropped that?” Ginny asked, taking a bite of her toast.

Ron shrugged his shoulders, “Guess I just took it to skive off.”

Harry and Ginny just rolled their eyes, apparently, this was normal to them. Well, not to
Hermione. “Why would you skive off your last year?” She asked intently, anticipating his answer.
Surely it would be some witty, somewhat humorous countered response.

Ron looked affronted, “W-well… that is…”

She inwardly laughed. *That* was the best he could come up with? Well, she would show him.
“Don't you know that your scores on the N.E.W.T.s determine how future employers will look at
you? How are you going to get a job, buy a home, *feed yourself*?” Hermione felt her face
begin to get warm.

Ron smiled and visibly relaxed, “That's easy, I want to be a professional Quidditch player
for the Chudley Cannons.”

Hermione scoffed, “And what if that doesn't work out for you? Don't you have any backup
plans?”

She seemed to have stumped him, for his brow creased and his face tensed once more. “Why would I
need a backup plan?”

“Well, you might not—” She began, planning on telling him *exactly* where he would wind up
if he didn't make his precious Quidditch team.

Hermione was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder. “Well, I think we should get going to
Charms, don't you?”

Hermione looked at Harry with a confused look on her face, wondering why he had stopped her from
telling off Ron. Surely, he would have gotten tired of his friend choosing not to care on the
career front? She glanced at the enchanted wristwatch she had purchased at Diagon Ally, charmed to
tell her the time and where she was supposed to be. “Umm… sure”

She grabbed her book bag and slipped away from the table, returning Ginny's friendly wave
goodbye. Ron still looked confused and Hermione had the urge to sprint back over there and finish
what she started. But, she didn't want to be late for her first class, so she turned around and
walked beside Harry, straying a good few inches from him.

When they left the hall, she chose to speak up, “Why didn't you let me finish? I was on a
roll.”

Harry glanced over at her, “Ron is very… sensitive about his career choice.”

Her brow furrowed, “Why?”

Harry inhaled a short amount of breath, “Well, he constantly feels the need to prove himself. He
has five older brothers, see? And each of them is tremendously good at what they do. The oldest,
Bill, works for Gringotts as a curse-breaker and got all twelve of his O.W.L.s when he was here.
The next, Charlie, works with dragons in Romania—”

“*Dragons?*” Hermione asked in astonishment.

“Yeah” Harry said with a smile, “He was also an *amazing* seeker and could have gone
professional, but chose to work abroad. His twin brothers Fred and George, own a shop in Diagon
Ally called *Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes,* and became tremendously successful. And then
there is Ginny, the only Weasley girl to be born in generations. He has a lot to live up to, and he
thinks his only strong feat is his keeping skills. Don't get me wrong, he's an incredible
keeper, but he has potential to do so much more. But as his friend, I want to encourage him to do
whatever he thinks is best.”

Hermione was astonished. She didn't think his reasoning for choosing to be a professional
Quidditch player had *that* much reason behind it. Usually, the decisions she was used to
making were short and based only upon nerve. She had never actually heard a logical explanation
like that before, and a damn good one at that. “Wow, I… I didn't think that—”

“It's alright, you didn't know.” Harry said with a smile. “I mean, I'm pretty sure
no one could figure that out the first time they meet Ron. Well, my first impression surely
wasn't along the lines of `Well you look like a sad individual who needs to prove himself to
his family, want to share my lollipop?'.”

Hermione chuckled. “You're right, it's more like `If you take one more bite of that
chicken leg, I'm not cleaning up your vomit'.”

Harry laughed at her, “Hey you're pretty funny.”

“Really?” She asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, I don't think I've ever met anyone with a quicker wit than you. Except maybe
Ginny, but I've always had the distinct feeling that she stole some of them from her
brothers.”

Hermione felt her cheeks grow warm, “No one has really ever called me funny before.”

It was Harry's turn to ask “Really?”

“Yeah” she confessed, “where I grew up, it was a very strict household and I didn't have the
nerve to talk back to them”

“You kind of sound like me,” Harry said, “Except I took full advantage of it and mocked them
with the old `I could always blow you up if you make me clean the dishes one more time'. I even
made up phony spells and pretended to curse my cousin to keep him and his friends from chasing me
around. But it didn't last after they found out I couldn't do magic outside of school until
I was of age.”

Hermione smiled at him, “Sounds miserable.”

“It was for a time. But then I just kept on reminding myself that it was only for the summer,
and then I could see my friends and do magic again. It helped when I was locked in my cousin's
old bedroom without dinner. I would just think of warm, pumpkin pastries and chocolate frogs. Of
course, it ended up making me hungrier, but the thoughts were enough.”

“You went to bed without food?” Hermione asked, aghast.

“Sometimes, when that witty comment brakes through on more than one occasion. It's hard not
to make a joke when my Aunt and Uncle were discussing sending my cousin to fat camp.” He chuckled
at the memory.

Hermione laughed and they came to stop in front of an open doorway. He let her pass by him and
followed her into the room. She gasped when she took in the classroom. Books were scattered around
the front of the class, many stacked atop each other at different angles. The seats were
coliseum-like, raised at different levels and circling the room around the books. There was a
single chalkboard with notes already written on it in white chalk and Hermione could smell the
faint waft of peppermint. She chose a seat towards the front and closest to the board, wanting a
good angle to take notes. Harry sat beside her and began to take out his supplies as well. When
Harry looked up, however, his face turned stony. Hermione was about to ask what was wrong when he
answered her question, “Great, we have class with the Slytherins.”

Hermione craned her neck towards the door and saw students file in with green and silver ties
around their necks. Her face paled. She had not faced Draco since the sorting, and didn't feel
like sharing a classroom with him at the moment. She immediately turned around when a head of
platinum hair filed in with the crowd and busied herself with uncapping the bottle to her ink.
Harry took no notice and simply glared at the students as they passed, not caring who saw.

She was saved the displeasure of confrontation when a stout man with a white beard jumped atop a
pile of books. He looked to be rather short, no more than two feet. He flipped through a planner
quickly and cleared his throat, it was barely a whimper of a thing but he got that classes
attention. Hermione couldn't help but be impressed at the man, having such authority over these
students. But maybe all professors were like that?

“There, there… settle down now, settle down.” He spoke in a high pitched-voice. Hermione did her
best not to giggle, not wanting to draw attention to herself. “Since it is the first day of term
and I'm sure many of you are not particularly happy about it, I thought that we should start
with a review day to make sure that none of your knowledge was lost over the break.”

Hermione could hear a collective sigh of relief radiating from the class at the announcement.
She couldn't help but be relieved as well. She wanted to know if this class, as well as others,
would be difficult for her to learn… sure, she knew spells—she knew loads of spells—but not the
kind that were advanced in light magic. She knew simple charms like *Wingardium Leviosa* and
*Alohamora,* but not much more than that. Hopefully, it would be an easy subject to learn; but
then again, she had always been quick to grasp things.

“I would like you to open your books to page twenty-seven, please.” He instructed.

The class complied without complaint and Hermione followed. She scanned the page and saw that it
was a simple summoning charm, one that she had already mastered years before. *The**y*
*learned* this *in their sixth year? How pathetic!*

“Now, with the person sitting opposite you, I would like you to practice the charm.”

It seemed simple enough, until she realized she would be paired with Harry. It wouldn't be
*that* bad, though… they already had a civilized conversation on their way over here. She had
to admit that from what she little she heard about his childhood, that he was making it lighter
than what it actually was. A small twinge in her gut took effect when she let her thoughts dwell
upon it, though she didn't know why. It couldn't be sympathy—she didn't really know the
meaning of the word.

“Have you practiced *Accio* before” Harry asked from beside her.

Hermione nodded her head simply, “A bit.”

“Well I've known how to do it since fourth year, so I think it's safe to say that we
don't need to practice it long.” He explained with a smile.

“Yeah, okay.” She replied breezily.

Harry smiled and took out his wand, Hermione mimicking him. “Let's try on that book” he
supplied. Hermione looked to where he pointed his finger and nodded in understanding. She waved her
wand lazily and recited the charm, the book flying into her hand. Harry looked at her with widened
eyes, “You can summon things without speaking the charm?”

Hermione's heart jumped. She didn't know that she did that! She could have sworn that
she had muttered the charm. Of course, she knew she was able to, but she trained herself not to
reveal that to onlookers, and, more importantly, *him.* “Umm… yeah, my f-father taught me.”
She explained feebly. Hermione knew there was no use in denying his claim, for he seemed to be the
stubborn type, much like herself.

“Well your father must be one hell of a wizard, then! It took me forever to learn how to do
that.” He explained in awe.

“Well yeah he's pretty—wait, you can do it, too?” she asked in astonishment.

Harry looked a bit uncomfortable for a moment, shifting himself in his seat. “Well yeah, I need
to know this stuff for… you know… future reference.” He explained in a hush. Hermione furrowed her
brow. She didn't know that he could do that… she had to report it when the Dark Lord made his
first contact with her.

“Oh, right.” She supplied, feigning the hushed, nervous tone.

He smiled at her, thankful that she understood. Hermione assumed that the only reason he was so
inconspicuous about the subject were the Slytherin onlookers, their ears straining to hear their
conversation. More than half of the Slytherin's knew who she was, and knew about her mission.
It made her quite uncomfortable, having all these eyes staring at the back of her head and
scrutinizing her every move. She knew she was above all of these people, but it didn't make the
situation any less nerve-wracking.

“How did your father teach you, with the age restrictions and all?” he asked curiously.

“I turned seventeen last November, so he taught me over the summer.” She lied breezily.

“You're birthday is in November?” He asked.

She nodded, “Yeah, November nineteenth.”

“November nineteenth…” he muttered to himself, “I'll remember that.”

Hermione furrowed her brow, “Why would you want to remember my birthday?”

“So I can get you a present, of course.” He replied simply, as if it was an obvious answer.

“Why would you want to get me a present?”

Harry looked at her oddly, she didn't know what for. No one had ever cared for her birthday
before, except maybe Draco and his annual “gifts”; although she wouldn't really call them
gifts, because he benefitted more than she did half of the time. “Well, we're friends
aren't we?”

Hermione was floored. Friends, already? Well this was proving easier than expected. “Right,
yeah, of course.”

He chuckled a little, “Good, you had me worried for a moment there.”

Hermione smiled, “Well, you were an easy target.”

Harry arched a brow, “Way to boost my self-esteem.”

“It was my pleasure.” She said, faking formality.

They sat like that for a while, just talking. Hermione was surprised how easy it was to hold a
conversation with him. First, before class, and now during she was talking to him without so much
as a violent thought having to do with his impending doom. The rest of the class was busy working
on their shaky summoning charms to notice the two of them laughing, and for that she was thankful.
They might think she was actually enjoying herself. Which she wasn't… not really.

“And so then, he runs into the room in just his Chudley Cannons underwear and a white
undershirt, pissed as hell. Next thing I knew, he whips the shirt off, jumps on the table and
starting spinning the thing around like a cowboy shouting `I'm a lucky idiot, I'm a lucky
idiot!'”

Hermione burst out laughing, “No way!”

“Yeah” he nodded frantically, “But not even five minutes later, he found a mop and put it on his
head singing, `I'm a horsey, whip me!'”

“Oh gods” she said, he face turning pink. “That's a mental image I didn't need in my
brain.”

“Well now you're scarred for life like the rest of Gryffindor house. The lesson to be
learned is to never give Ron butterbeer on an empty stomach after a Quidditch match.”

“Dooley noted.” She replied.

It was then that the bell rang, signifying the end of class. They both picked up their bags and
supplies and walked out side-by-side. “So what do you have next?” he asked her as they filed out
into the crowded hallway.

“Erm…” she pulled out her timetable and looked it over, “Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Me too, I guess we're walking together again. Hope you're not tired of me already.”

“Hardly” she replied without thought.

“Good” he smiled at her.

She smiled back and they made their way to the classroom at a steady pace. They got their
quickly and entered the room to see Ron already there and waiting for them. Harry waved at his
friend and Hermione began uncharacteristically giggling. Harry heard her and whispered through the
corner of his mouth, “Just try to picture him *before* he ripped his shirt off and you'll
be fine.”

Hermione just giggled harder and Harry couldn't help but join her. When they reached Ron,
his face was contorted in confusion. “What are you guys laughing about?”

“Nothing!”

“Mashed Potatoes!”

They both answered at the same time and erupted in laughs once again. Ron looked at the two of
them as if they had gone mental, “You know, I'm not sure if I want to know.”

Eventually, they sobered and sat down, Ron next to one of his housemates which Hermione
didn't know the name of, and Harry next to Hermione. Ron looked a little put out at first when
Harry chose the seat next to Hermione, but played it off nonchalantly. Hermione was a little
surprised as well, but busied herself with getting her supplies to mask her confusion. The class
was chatting lightly, waiting for their professor to arrive. He entered the classroom in a stride
and the class went into a hush. Hermione's earlier theory was then proven; the professors
*did* have that effect on their students.

“Good morning.” Professor Lupin greeted the class with a smile. Mumbled responses were heard
throughout the classroom and Hermione mumbled her own along with them. “For those of you who
don't remember me, I'm Professor Lupin. Yes, I am still a werewolf, so whoever has a
problem with that can feel free to leave.” He looked over the classroom once and nodded,
“That's what I thought. Now, onto the real reason we're all here: Defense Against The Dark
Arts. Now that you have N.E.W.T.s to prepare for, I have no choice but to come down hard on you. So
yes, that means homework on your first day.”

Many groans emitted throughout the classroom and Hermione resisted the need to sigh. Honestly,
it was *school,* did they expect anything less? “But, to start off the lesson, we are going to
take thorough notes on defensive spells. Now, most of these will be review, but they are still
crucial to your testing.”

He made his way to the chalkboard and removed the cover that had been over it, revealing a
diagram and notes. Hermione began to copy the board while listening to Professor Lupin's
lecture like many other students. It was true, she knew many of these spells, but the theories
behind them were a mystery to her. Most we designed to repel Dark Magic, which she specialized in
and used most of her limited knowledge with. She was foreign to the lesson in the sense that these
spells were meant to be used in the form of defense from curses, not to repel them back at your
enemy. There were so many other uses for these spells that Hermione had never thought possible.
Talk about expanding her horizons!

The lesson consisted of long notes and an even longer lecture, but Hermione found herself far
from bored like the rest of her classmates. The only other person to be equally enthused about the
lesson besides her was Harry, whose notes seemed to be equally in-depth. It was towards the end of
the lesson when she heard a quite snoring beside her. She turned around to see Ron resting his head
on his hands and breathing heavily. Hermione figured she wasn't the only one who noticed, for
quite giggles began to sound from all around her. Lupin seemed to have taken notice as well and
stopped mid-sentence to levitate a rather heavy-looking book over to where Ron was seated. Hermione
thought lightly that he was going to drop the book on his head in punishment, but all he did was
lift the spell and send the book crashing to the edge of his desk, right near his ears.

Ron's head snapped up, “Wha—mum?”

The class erupted in laughter and Ron blushed when he realized where he was. Professor Lupin
raised an eyebrow at him, “Does my class bore you Mister Weasley?”

“Well yeah.” He responded truthfully, “Why can't we do lessons like we did in third
year?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Mister Weasley, but you have tests to prepare for. We won't begin
the physical part until next week.” The whole class seemed to be effected by this. They all moaned
and groaned and Lupin laughed, “Don't worry, it's not all bad. I'll try to make it as
bearable as possible for you… at least bearable enough where you won't *fall asleep*.” The
class laughed at the reddening face of Ron.

It was that moment that the bell to signify the end of class sounded. The class began to pack up
their things as Professor Lupin called over the chatter, “Your homework is a two foot long essay on
the history of the *Diffendo* spell!”

Hermione, Ron, and Harry made their way out of the classroom with Hermione lagging behind a bit,
looking at her timetable once more. She was about to catch up with the two boys when an arm tugged
her to the side and into a secluded classroom. Hermione didn't need to think too much on it to
figure out who it was.

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself in Charms today.” Draco hissed in her ear as he began to
pace the room.

“It's an act, Draco, I need to get close to him, remember?” Hermione said smartly.

“It didn't look like and act to me.” He said matter-of-factly. “I think that you started out
acting, and slowly were sucked into the Potter `charm'.”

“*Potter charm?*” Hermione asked humorously, “I don't think so. I can handle myself
Draco; I was born for this job.”

“That may be so, but your walls might not be thick enough to resist the lure of Potter and his
Muggle-loving cronies.” Draco said with a sneer.

Hermione's temper began to rise, “Are you insinuating that I can't do this?”

Draco saw her face contort to one of anger and immediately lost his confident demeanor.
“W-well…”

“I am fully capable of initiating a false relationship with my sworn enemy; you above all people
should knew how passionate I am about this.” She said, poking him hard in the chest.

He rubbed the tender spot, “I know, Mia, I know. Look, I'm just saying that I'm worried
about you. You haven't been to a school before and you might get sucked into its clutches and
lose focus.”

Hermione smiled lightly at him, “Well thank you for your concern but I'm fine. I'm doing
fine and I don't need your help.”

Draco smiled at her in return, “You knew you're really sexy when you're angry.” He
started to walk over to her but Hermione held out a hand to push him back a fair few inches. He
looked put out as Hermione shook her head.

“You're trying to butter me up and it's not going to work. While I'm here, it's
strictly business and nothing else.” Draco frowned and Hermione laughed at him. “No.”

“You're no fun.”

Hermione just shook her head. Before she left the room, though, he grabbed her forearm and
stared intently at her. She looked at him questioningly as he spun her around to face him.
“Don't do anything stupid, Mia… He's watching.”

Hermione just pulled out of his grip and slipped out the door. The halls were emptying and she
had to sprint the length to class. She had Divination next and followed the map until it lead her
to a tower that smelled of smoke and potpourri. She had to climb a narrow ladder and push open a
trap-like door in order to enter the classroom. The bell rang just as she took a seat next to Harry
and Ron at one of the circular tables. Harry looked questioningly at her and she replied with a
simple lie, “I had to use the washroom.”

He just nodded and didn't question her further. Ron, however, seemed oblivious and was
staring intently at the smoking crystal ball that was perched in the middle of the table. Their
teacher had yet to enter the classroom and Hermione took that time to think about what Draco had
told her. *He* was watching her. The Dark Lord was watching her. She didn't want to think
about how he could do such a thing, she knew he had his methods and didn't bother questioning
them. The point was that he was watching her, and that meant she had no room to make a mistake.
Even though she was used to him watching her like this, it was a higher-stake situation. The
thought of him knowing her every move in this secluded castle made her develop sweat on the back of
her neck.

“You alright, Hermione?” Harry asked with concern.

“Yeah” she lied, “Never better.”

-->



5. Dumbledore's Army
--------------------



**A/N:** **Well, I would just like to say thank you, first and foremost, for the amazing
reviews I've been getting! I'm almost to 100, and it's only the fifth chapter! That has
never happened to me before and I just want to thank you all for accepting my story and all of its
semi-originality so quickly. I try to respond to every review, and think I have been successful so
far,** **so cheers to that :) I also have re-vamped my old LiveJournal, so if you want to check
it out, friend me, or whatever, here's the link:**

**http://shardee.livejournal.com/**

**I also want to thank** **grandmaster** **for being a pervert and catching my little
innuendo last chapter. They seemed to be the only one *glares*. hehe. Just kidding, I'm sure
you're all pervs like me! …right?**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his little cronies don't belong to me. The tarot card
references are from “The Sacred Circle Tarot” by Anna Franklin, not me… I'm not** **that**
**cool.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

Dumbledore's Army

Classes had been going on for a week when Hermione stumbled upon what she thought to be the most
astonishing thing she had ever been witness to, and she had seen quite a few in her time. It
started out as a normal day; her classes were going well, the food had been editable, and she
hadn't had another run in with Draco that scared her to pieces, though she still hadn't
admitted that was what she was really feeling—fear.

She was in the middle of her Divination class, staring at her teacher and wondering how a bird
like her could ever get a job teaching a class like this. It was obvious that she lacked the seer
blood that was usually required to teach a Divination class. She even considered dropping it, after
the professor had predicted her to be attacked by a swarm of hippogriffs by breakfast the next
morning. Honestly, who did this woman think she was? But, she chose to keep it, for the sake of her
mission.

“Today we will be focusing on the art of tarot reading. I, myself, am fairly new to the craft as
my discovery of the cards did not come about until two summers ago. Now please, turn to Chapter Six
in your books to reference what you find in your partners reading. We will be using the *Celtic
Pagan* method, as well as the Planetary Spread. I will be around observing your findings. Maybe
we will have another appearance of the Death Card this year.” Hermione could have sworn that she
looked in her direction, but dismissed the idea. Professor Trelawney came off as anything but an
expert in Divination.

She was sitting across from Harry once again while Ron had elected to take a spot by Dean
Thomas, claiming that he had to discuss something with him. Hermione found that Ron was not the
best liar, as he and Dean seemed to be focusing on the smoking crystal ball more than each other.
She had no idea what the fascination was with the thing, it was as if they had never seen a glass
ball containing magical mists before! Harry was studying the image of the Planetary Spread they
were supposed to use while aligning the cards to match quite slowly and Hermione huffed.

His head snapped up, “What?”

“Are you checking to see if the cards have wizard pox or something?” She asked in amusement.

Harry just gave her a look and finished setting the cards down in their correct positions,
ignoring Hermione muttering profanities under her breathe. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow
and Hermione rolled her eyes at him, causing him to crack a smile.

“I think I should read you first.” He stated.

Hermione nodded in response and he flipped the cards over, revealing detailed sketches of
symbols and people she was not familiar with. He also seemed to be baffled by the cards, for he
immediately reached for his book and started at the northern tip of the star-shaped alignment.
“Alright this is supposed to read home matters… let's see…” He read off a description of her
card, the Two of Swords, “You find yourself in a stalemate situation and you are neither able to
move forward nor retreat. This is not a comfortable situation, but a state of armed truce.
Depending on the surrounding cards, the Two of Swords may mean that you find yourself in a tricky
situation, but you are unwilling to face up to sorting it out for fear of upsetting the status
quo—well, that's odd.”

Hermione felt her hands get sweaty and proceeded to wipe them off on her skirt, out of the
vision of Harry. The one time Divination actually made some sort of sense, it read her like an open
book. “Yeah, it's… far off to say the least. This tarot reading is a load of nonsense.”

Harry nodded, sympathizing with her. “Maybe we should just move on to the next one… matters and
skills.”

“You can just skip that one; I don't need a card telling me what I'm good at.” She
replied breezily.

Harry smiled, “I'm with you on that one.” He glanced at the book again, “Love and
relationships, then?”

Hermione shrugged, “Sure, what can it hurt? The nonexistence of my love life can be neither
helped nor ruined.”

Harry chuckled and studied the card for a moment before flipping to the correct page and reading
off what was printed before him, “The Tower—sounds pleasant.” He commented, causing Hermione to
giggle. “The tower in this card represents all of the things you have built up around yourself, the
exterior face you present to the world. You aren't an exotic dancer and not telling anyone
about it are you?”

Hermione punched him in the shoulder, blushing faintly. “Continue reading, you dolt!”

He shook his head to brush his bangs out of his face and continued to read, “It indicates that
an unexpected shock or disaster will change your life completely. Some action you have taken in the
past is now beginning to have unfortunate consequences that you never imagined. The tower that you
have so carefully created will be destroyed no matter what you do—your plans and ambitions
shattered. The tower cracks and falls because it was a flawed structure built with the poor
materials of misguided ambition, false values, and pride. While the consequences of this card are
painful and unwanted at the time, they force you to face up to the fact that you have been
deceiving yourself and living your life on a false premise. Now, you must sort through the wreckage
and truthfully examine your motives. If you try to erect the same tower again from the old rubble,
it will collapse again.”

The two of them remained quiet for a while, soaking in the long description. Hermione thought in
some ways, it made sense—not pertaining to her of course, but to someone with conflicting emotions.
The true question was why it was in relation to her love and relationships. She had been hoping for
something straightforward, something like “You will have lots of great sex until the day you die”.
Why must Divination always speak in riddles?

“Well, that was… erm…” Harry tried feebly.

“Utterly pointless” Hermione finished. “Honestly, let me just do yours so we can get this over
with.”

Harry handed her his book, “Be my guest.”

Hermione re-shuffled the cards and set them into their previous positions, noticeably faster
than how Harry had done it before. He knew she was thinking this and stuck his tongue out at her
childishly. She just smirked and flipped the cards over. “Let's just skip to *Fame and
Achievements* to save us the trouble of reading another riddle.” He nodded in agreement and
Hermione looked at the card before referencing it to the corresponding description in the book. It
was a picture of a woman cloaked in a white robe in a field, holding a small sickle, “Death.”

Harry's eyes narrowed into tiny slits and his face turned a shade of light pink. Hermione
looked at him apprehensively before he shouted, “*Every bloody year!*”

His exclamation was loud enough to cause the professor to shuffle over to them and peer at Harry
through her magnified spectacles. “What seems to be the problem, dear boy?” She glanced down at the
cards and saw the one marked Death and tutted to herself, “It appears that the omen of death is
upon you once again Mister Potter. It has been a pleasure teaching you these past five years…” she
trailed off and sniffed, pulling a tissue out from a pocket in her gypsy-like robes and blowing.
She turned and left the two of them at their table, the rest of the class staring at them, not
knowing whether to laugh or sympathize.

“Harry?” Hermione asked tentively, placing a reluctant hand on his shoulder and feigning
sympathy.

He looked up at her and smiled, “Sorry… it's just a touchy subject.”

Hermione nodded and removed her hand from his shoulder. “On the bright side, class ends in—” The
bell rang and Harry laughed. “Now” she finished flatly.

The two of them picked up their books and waited for Ron and Dean at the entrance to the
classroom. They were along in a few moments and the four of them made their way down the trapdoor
and spiraling staircase in a comfortable silence. When they arrived in the Great Hall for lunch,
Dean spoke up as he took a seat across from Hermione. “So Harry is the DA meeting still on for
tonight?”

“Yeah, right after dinner” He replied.

Dean nodded in understanding and went on to eating his meal. Hermione, however, was thoroughly
confused and looked at them with a furrowed brow. “What's the DA?” she asked curiously.

Harry looked at her as if he had just realized something, “Oh, that's right, I haven't
told you yet!”

“Obviously.” She said in an explicit tone.

“It stands for the Defense Association, a club Ron and I started a few years back after… well…”
He trailed off. He caught himself and continued, “We practice defensive spells, preparing ourselves
for future… events. We have people from every house participating from third year and up. Well,
with the exception of Slytherin, that is.”

Hermione was in shock. A club for preparing themselves? It was fairly obvious what she had to do
now. They were actually training for the Final Battle! But, she had to keep her thoughts to herself
as she answered in what she hoped was an interested tone, “That sounds fascinating.”

“It is!” Ron exclaimed from beside her. “Harry teaches us everything we need to know; even
Neville learned how to cast a disarming charm without poking someone's eye out! He's bloody
brilliant!”

Harry blushed and Hermione smiled politely. She had to gain access to this club. It could be
extremely valuable information for her master and his now seemingly feeble attempts at preparation.
“So, are you taking any new members?”

“Of course” Harry said, obviously pleased. “You already know when the meeting is today, but we
always meet on Wednesdays and Fridays at the same time.”

Hermione nodded, “Alright, I'll be there.”

“Fantastic.”

~*~

The rest of the day passed slowly, but by the end of dinner, she found herself rushing to the
Gryffindor Common Room, intent on meeting up with someone to walk to the meeting with. Harry
hadn't been very precise with the directions, so Hermione thought it best to tag along with
someone else for the time being. Then, she could find the way on her own and make use of her newly
acquired knowledge.

She found Ginny lounging on one of the couches near the fire and greeted her softly. Ginny's
face immediately brightened as she stood up to face her. “So I heard you're going to the
meeting as well?”

Hermione nodded and Ginny squealed. She had to restrain herself from covering her ears at the
high-pitched noise. Seriously, was this girl wired to make her brain turn to mush? “Do you
*have* to do that?” she asked, referring to her over-exited demeanor.

“Sorry, it's just in my nature.” She said with a shrug. Glancing at the clock, she stood up
and turned back to Hermione. “Do you want to walk down together?”

“Sure.” Hermione replied, somewhat relieved that she didn't have to trail a stranger all the
way to the Room of Requirement. She had read up on the room in *Hogwarts, a History*, of
course—it was designed to accustom to whoever walked past it thrice with a single intent on their
mind. The book did not specify a location, but in a few minutes, Hermione would have no trouble
finding the come-and-go room.

She followed Ginny as they made their way through Hogwarts at a steady pace. The two of them
arrived in a hallway on the seventh floor a few minutes later, where a few students were filing
into a door that Hermione never recalled seeing in her past walks in this part of the castle.
*This must be the entrance*, Hermione thought to herself, observing the surroundings to make
sure she would remember. It was across from a tapestry showing a man looking as if he was trying to
teach a heard of trolls ballet, a very different sight for her to witness.

“Come on, so we can catch the door!” Ginny proclaimed before she grabbed Hermione's wrist
and pulled her behind her as she sprinted towards the door.

They reached the door just as someone was entering and filed into it behind them. Hermione was
immediately struck speechless as she entered the large room. It was filled with large bookcases
aligning the walls, cushions along the floors, and what looked to be practice dummies in the shape
of Death Eaters. Hermione had to chuckle to herself quietly, but immediately silenced quickly as
she found another intriguing feature of the room, a corkboard filled with clippings from the Daily
Prophet and a magazine she didn't recognize. She walked over to the board and observed it,
finding that every article had something to do with her master or the attacks she had helped
participate in. It sent a cool chill down her spine knowing that she was in a room that was being
used for training to defeat people like her. Not her, she was far to experienced for any of these
armature students to face, but Death Eaters like Wormtail, or even Malfoy.

“It's quite disturbing, isn't it?” a dreamy voice asked from beside her. Hermione turned
to see a girl looking at her oddly. She had dirty blonde, waist length hair that seemed to be on
the straggly side, protruding silver-grey eyes that made her seem as though she was surprised at
something, what seemed to be radish earrings, and a necklace made from butterbeer corks. She seemed
to notice Hermione's confused expression, for she pressed on, “All of those people… gone.
Tragic, really, how someone can do such a thing without the influence of a Blibbering
Humdinger.”

“A—a what?” Hermione asked, taken aback at the odd phrase.

“They make people do things that aren't ethically correct. Things like committing murders or
helping someone use the washroom.” The girl responded, still using that dreamy tone.

“Right…” Hermione answered, not knowing what else to say.

“I'm Luna Lovegood, and you're Hermione” she said in a matter-of-fact way.

“I—right, nice to meet you” Hermione replied, extending her hand for her to shake. But instead
of accepting it, Luna chose to through her arms around Hermione and give her a loose hug. Her first
thought was of disgust, before turning to one of awkwardness. She had only just met this girl and
she was already initiating physical contact. She patted Luna's back lightly and let out a
relieved breath as she pulled away, staring at her again.

“I wrote that article, you know.” She said, pointing to a piece of paper that belonged to the
unknown magazine Hermione had noticed earlier. “My father let me do a piece on the precautions
Hogwarts was taking to protect its students, seeing as I go here. It was a thrilling experience,
knowing I was going to be on the same page as the Crumble-Horned Snorkack! We didn't put it up
though… I don't know why, they're extremely fascinating creatures. Maybe I should go ask
Harry.”

And with that, she left. Hermione stared after her. She thought after Ginny, Hogwarts
couldn't produce an odder version of the female race. Luna Lovegood had definitely proved her
wrong.

Hermione turned to skim the bookcases that had first gathered her attention when she heard
Harry's voice sound from the center of the room. “Alright everyone, gather around!” Hermione,
along with the rest of the occupants of the room (quite a few, if she did say so herself) gathered
around him. He smiled at the crowd and continued in a confident voice, “Today, being the first
meeting of the year, we'll begin practicing the uses of the Dissillusionment Charm. I would
like you to practice the spell with a partner. It seems easy, but there are many ways this can turn
out, so go on and practice and I'll be around if you need any help.”

The students dispersed quickly and paired off, and the only person remaining was Luna. Hermione
groaned to herself as the girl approached her with a smile. She forced smiled in response and let
her lead her to a spot by the fireplace. Luna muttered the incantation quietly while tapping her
wand lightly to the top of her head and began to disappear from Hermione's vision.

“Did it work?” she heard Luna's voice ask.

“Yeah” Hermione said, “I can't see you at all.”

“Excellent” she replied, “I feel like I just had a flood of pumpkin juice poured down my
back.”

Hermione couldn't help but giggle to herself at the comment. A few moments, Luna re-appeared
before her and she jumped a little, not expecting her to be not even a foot in front of her. The
girl just smiled at her, “You're turn”

Hermione nodded and performed the charm on herself. She didn't feel the sensation that Luna
had described, but an odd tingling feeling working its way from her head to her feet. Luna looked
in her direction pointedly and she knew that she had been unsuccessful. Hermione cursed herself,
angry that she couldn't perform a simple Dissillusionment Charm. She had read about the charm
before, but never performed it. Death Eaters weren't necessarily known for being inconspicuous
when it came to their attacks.

“You look like… orange.” Luna stated.

“Orange?” she asked in astonishment, “How in the hell could I have turned *orange*?”

Luna shrugged her shoulders, “Maybe we should ask Harry.”

Hermione shook her head, “No, that's not—” But Luna had already motioned for Harry to come
over to where they were. Hermione felt her face grow warm in embarrassment as he did a once-over on
her appearance. She expected a sarcastic comment, or maybe a deep chuckle from him. He surprised
her by muttering a spell and causing a warm sensation to liquefy over her body.

“Have you practiced this charm before?”

“No” she answered honestly.

He just smiled and came to stand in front of her, “It's quite simple, all you have to do is
say the charm and relax your body.” Hermione nodded and tried the charm again, but felt the same
tingling sensation wash over her and groaned. Harry pressed his lips together and muttered the same
spell he had done before. “You're not relaxing. You need to clear your mind, loosen up, and
just… be.”

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind of anything but the charm as she recited it
to herself before lifting her wand to the top of her head and voicing it. She felt as though an egg
had been cracked upon her head and grinned at the new feeling. She saw Harry smile at her and
couldn't help but exclaim, “I did it!”

She didn't know what motivated her to make her next move, but she ran over to where Harry
was and gave him a hug. He hadn't been expecting an invisible Hermione to come over and hug
him, so the both of them tumbled to the ground as though she had jumped him. They both let out a
sound of impact and laughed uncomfortably.

“I'm so sorry!” She blurted.

“It's alright” he said lightly, “We if this isn't déjà vu, I don't know what
is.”

Hermione blushed, “Sorry.”

“It's alright. Besides, to everyone else it just looked like I fell over for no apparent
reason and am now talking to myself.” He said with clear amusement.

“So I'm guessing you do that a lot them, seeing as no one is coming over here and asking if
you're alright.”

“Well half of them are invisible, so they very well could be, and the other half are just used
to it.” He said, smiling up at her again.

An awkward silence fell between them and they both realized at that moment what position they
were in and scrambled off of each other. Hermione said the spell to lift the charm and tried her
best to cool her hot skin. She had never really been so flustered about being on top of a guy
before, especially in a compromising situation like this. Normally she would stay in control, not
get off the guy as if he were on fire; and she definitely felt as if she'd been burned.

Harry shot her a smile as if to say “Don't worry about it” and she nodded. He left to help
another group of students on the other side of the room and she watched him as he walked off. When
she realized that her line of vision was no long on his back, but on a tad bit lower region, she
blinked rapidly and turned to see Luna standing behind her once again. She gasped in surprise and
tried to calm her racing heartbeat with a palm over her chest. Luna seemed to be unaware of how
much she truly startled her, because she just smiled at her lazily.

“He really is a fantastic teacher, don't you think?” she asked her conversationally.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see Harry help another student master the Disillusionment
Charm and then patting his hand on their back in congratulations. “Yes” she said as she saw him
smile at them, “he is.”

“It's kind of a shock, really.” Luna said, catching Hermione off guard and causing her to
turn back around to face her, “He didn't use to be this confident, always with his head in the
clouds and looking as though if he'd associate with somebody he'd spontaneously combust.
But then he just changed after our fourth year and started up the Defense Association. Quite an odd
name, if you ask me, because we do far more than learn to defend ourselves.”

“Well then why did you settle on the name?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Harry's old girlfriend, Cho, suggested it—quite an airhead, if you ask me—and in comparison
to the others it was the best.” She answered simply. “I still remember the first time Dumbledore
heard about it, he joked that it sounded as though we were forming a sort of wizard army.” Hermione
chuckled. It did sound like the way the headmaster would react to such a thing. “If you think about
it, Harry really based it off of his ideas and such.”

“Well why don't you just name it Dumbledore's Army, then?” Hermione suggested
lightly.

Luna looked at her with widened eyes. Well, wider than usual. “That's a good idea! I'm
going to start using that, too.”

Hermione smiled at the girl. She took another look around the room, observing all of the people
in it. They all seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves and learning a lot from Harry's
teachings. The way he carried himself when he was teaching was… quite remarkable, if she did say so
herself. She didn't think it was possible for a person that young of age, with a dark fate
hanging over his head, to carry himself so well. Of course, he didn't know that this was going
to be his last year, maybe he suspected it, but didn't really *know*. Maybe… maybe she
should hold off on telling the Dark Lord about his defense club, see how far he could really
stretch these kids before declaring any danger to them. It seemed logical. Who would think that a
bunch of kids would stand a chance when faced with a duel against a highly trained Death Eater,
anyway? It sounded utterly preposterous and would probably mean nothing to the Dark Lord, maybe
cause him to chuckle at their misguidance.

She turned back to Luna and saw her staring off into space. Hermione didn't think she'd
noticed her staring at her until she spoke up, “You know, if the nargles hadn't of pushed you
into Harry, I would have thought that you meant to knock him over. It was quite amusing seeing you
two like that, made me think… Ginny really isn't his soul mate, anyway.”

Luna walked over to where a few students were playing a version of hide-and-seek using the new
mastered Disillusionment Charms, leaving Hermione speechless. Just *what* had she meant by
that?

-->



6. Hogsmeade
------------



**A/N: Ahh, I just barely made my Sunday deadline! Its 11:30 and I am finally finished, another
close call for a chapter being late under my belt. I apologize for the semi-shortness of this
chapter. At least, I think it's kind of short; I might just be delusional from the tiredness
that I'm experiencing. Busy weekend, I'm sorry! But I'm finished and I have to give
a** **huge** **thanks to Lauren for helping me out with this chapter! Without her, this
wouldn't exist. And another thanks for the fantabulous reviews! Holy shit, I'm already past
100 and counting?! Thank you all sooooo much, you rock!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and icky Harry/Ginny-ness=JKR, Harry/Hermione awesomeness and
shecks=Delusional Harmony shippers like me and you!** **GO US!!**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Hogsmeade**

The month of September flew by and before Hermione knew it, it was the second week of October. A
Hogsmeade trip was planned for the third years and up and she was looking forward to exploring the
town just outside of Hogwarts. She loved Hogwarts—she really did—but the walls seemed to close in
on her the first few weeks of her stay there. The only thing that kept her sane was her improving
social skills with Harry, Ginny, Ron, and surprisingly, Luna. Although she still found the bubbly
blonde to be a close contender to the eighth wonder of the world, she was an interesting person to
talk to when she found herself overloaded with coursework, which proved to be quite often.

She woke up early on Saturday with an odd feeling in her lower stomach, not unlike the ones she
used to get when a bad thing was about to happen. Hermione hadn't had these pains in years; the
last time she remembered having them was when she was eleven during the summer. She was convinced
that she was having a touch of the Wizard Flu, but it never amounted to anything but that queasy
feeling in her stomach. That same day, the Malfoy's had a fire that originated in their overly
large fireplace. They never told her how or why the fire was started; only that she had to stay in
her room for a few days while the repairs were being done. Being the young, naïve girl she was, she
went along with it without question. Their house elf, Dobby, brought up her food every meal, and he
became the first person she could talk to beside Draco. It was odd, considering an elf an equal,
but Dobby's kind nature stuck with her even after he was dismissed when she was thirteen. She
really missed him.

Rubbing her tired eyes, she got out of the comforts of her bed and prepared herself for the day
ahead of her, but instead of her uniform she dressed in jeans and a sweater thinking of the chill
winds outside. Her roommates, again, were not up at this hour, even though they would be if it was
a weekday. Sleeping in was vastly overrated, in her opinion. What did dreams hold that was better
than real life? Hermione rarely dreamed, if at all, so she did not see the logic in taking extra
time out of your day to sleep if all it did was make you lazy and cranky. Honestly, where was the
sense in that?

Ginny was waiting for her in the common room, as was their newly-formed routine. Ginny suggested
it after a few weeks of noticing that both she and Hermione arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast
within minutes of the other. Hermione was resistant at first, as she always was with these people,
but gave in eventually after Ginny tried to pull the “puppy dog pout” she had heard so much about.
She had to admit, it stirred something within her seeing her lower lip jutted out like that, but it
was most likely due to annoyance than anything else.

“Good morning Herms!” The red-head chimed brightly. Yet another new addition to her life here at
Hogwarts, nicknames that made her want to pull out a steak knife and stab whoever called her it
repeatedly in the chest. Most of the time it was Ginny, whose sugar sweet voice didn't help
matters when the name oozed out of her mouth. The only person who was allowed to call her anything
other than her birth name was Draco, and even then she got exasperated once in a while.

Pretending that the current state of Ginny's health wasn't at risk, Hermione responded
in what she hoped was a cheerful voice, “`Morning Ginny.”

Ginny smiled at her and she knew she was safe. The two girls made their way out of the tower and
sat down at the Gryffindor table when they arrived at the virtually empty hall. There was already
food set before them and they wasted no time piling it onto their plates and devouring it. Hermione
had acquired an addiction to the cooking that Hogwarts provided them, and wished there was some way
that she could have it at her fingertips. But alas, she asked Ginny after her first taste of
treacle tarts with no avail. The location of the kitchen was another secret that Hermione had yet
to discover.

“So” Ginny asked with a half-mouthful of eggs, “looking forward to your first Hogsmeade
visit?”

Ignoring Ginny's lack of table manners for the time being, she answered with a grin, “Of
course! I mean, I love this place to pieces but a change of scenery would be a welcome relief.”

Ginny nodded, “I felt that way when I was old enough to go. Ron and Harry were always bragging
about how incredible it was and I couldn't wait to see for myself. Any place you're looking
forward to seeing?”

“The Three Broomsticks sounds interesting, and so does Honeydukes.” Hermione said with interest,
remembering the few stores she had read and heard about.

“Both well worth the visit, I assure you. I'm sure Harry, Ron, and I would love to accompany
you your first visit to the coveted village.” Ginny said.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at the faux formality, “Well I thank you for your kind
offer and will do well to remember it.”

Both girls laughed and continued to pick at their food. Harry and Ron both came in within the
next few minutes, the weekend sleep clear on their smiling faces. One of the many benefits of the
weekend: Harry and Ron weren't easily mistaken for Inferi and their eating habits were back to
a normal, garbage-disposal pace.

“Morning ladies” Ron called happily before shoving what looked to be a pound of flapjacks onto
his plate. Ginny and Hermione nodded to him and Harry and continued eating.

Hermione had been getting this weird feeling every time she looked at Harry lately. It could
only be described as her stomach muscles contracting and feeling as though they were lifting it
into her throat. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, and certainly not one that she had been
accustomed to. This foreign experience was something new altogether and it befuddled her to an
extensive degree. Did everyone feel like this when they looked at him? Did Ron—did
*Ginny*?

But, she had been semi-successfully avoiding his eyes for a good few weeks now without him
questioning her. And she didn't feel guilty about it one bit because she knew who was to
blame—Luna! What she said after the first D.A. meeting had been plaguing her ever since she thought
about what it could have meant. Hermione didn't even *want* to think about it… she just
did. Stupid Luna and her stupid riddles…

“So when do the carriages leave?” Hermione asked, distracting herself from her inner
thoughts.

“In about ten minutes” Harry answered, glancing at his watch.

Hermione nodded in understanding and finished up her food. They had small talk as the excitement
for the trip mounded with each passing minute. After what seemed to be forever, the announcement
that the carriages had arrived was made and students bustled to the exits of the hall and tried to
get the best spot. Hermione followed behind Ginny to one of the carriages towards the back and
ended up sitting right next to Harry. *Great,* she thought, *that's just what I need
right now.* *The guy who is making me experience physical as well as mental pain sitting next
to me in a confined carriage. Fan-bloody-tastic.*

Harry smiled over at her and her stomach did that weird contraction again, making her grimace.
On top of her other feeling in her lower stomach, it was rather painful. “Are you alright?” He
asked in concern.

“Yeah” she lied smoothly, “I'm fine.”

He gave her a look that said that he didn't believe her, but didn't press it, and for
that she was thankful. As she had got to know Harry, she had been getting the distinct feeling that
he just *knew* what was going on in her head, but when she lied about it, he didn't want
to make her uncomfortable. Hermione thought it was due to his… situation. Luna had said that he
didn't used to be as open as he was now. Maybe that was the reason? She knew that she hated
people who wanted to know *every* detail of *everything* that she did. Ginny was the kind
of person who put off that vibe sometimes, but she pressed back when Hermione gave her one of her
infamous “if you ask me again I swear to Merlin I will kill you” looks.

The ride to Hogsmeade was short, as she expected. The town was only a few miles away from the
school and what felt like ten minutes later, they arrived. Hermione was the first to push herself
out of the carriage, practically shoving an equally eager Ron out of the way. Ginny giggled behind
her and Hermione could picture the incredulous look Ron was giving her behind her back. But before
she could turn around and laugh at him and his childish reactions, she was hit with the beauty that
was Hogsmeade Village.

The tall buildings reminded her of a more homely version of Diagon Ally. She could see older
students running to their favorite stores and third years staring in wonder at the village much
like the way she was. Most of the stores seemed to be along one long road with a few others off on
other paths. They were all very close to each other, forming dark alleys between them where she
assumed the trash and vermin laid. She had never seen a place like this before, oozing magic and
happiness. Surprisingly, she was not at all disturbed by it, but rather the opposite. She felt as
though she belonged in places like this, places where laughter could be heard around every corner
and where she could imagine herself living in her later years.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” A feminine voice said from behind her. She knew it was Ginny and
didn't bother to turn around. “So, where do you want to head off to first?”

“I'll just follow your lead” she said passively. In truth, she wanted to go everywhere, but
knew that she had to keep herself in check, as they didn't have the entire day. Her homework
was sitting in a pile on her bedside table, waiting to be completed.

Ginny nodded and grabbed Harry's hand, intertwining their fingers together. They lead the
way to a building with a sign that read “The Leaky Cauldron” and Hermione smiled, as this was one
of the places she wanted to visit.

When she walked through the door she was hit with a waft of what seemed to be butterscotch. She
recognized the scent as butterbeer and a wide grin spread on her face. It was by far one of her
favorite drinks and she only seldom got to taste it. They had a limited supply when she lived at
Malfoy Manor, claiming it would ruin their health and make them soft. It was nowhere to be found at
the Riddle Mansion, as the Dark Lord never acquired a taste for it. She used to sneak some when she
went out on raids, making it her goal to have some by the end of their time spent there. Sometimes,
it was the only thing she looked forward to on those days.

They found a table near the back and a curvy sort of woman came up to ask for their orders.
Hermione noticed that she was also very pretty and when she approached them, Ron's face seemed
to get a few shades redder. Hermione giggled under her breath and made a note to herself to point
that out later.

“What'll it be today dears?” she asked while looking them over.

“I think we'll all be content with some butterbeers.” Harry said on behalf of the table. He
turned to Hermione for a short moment after what looked to be a second of thought, “Do you like
butterbeer, Hermione?”

Hermione answered bluntly, “Oh yes!”

Harry gave her another smile and she had to put a hand over her stomach to settle it. The woman
nodded at them and turned back towards a bar to get their orders. Hermione turned to Ron, whose
face seemed to be slowly returning to its normal pale shade. “So Ron, you seemed a bit choked up
back there.”

Ron turned his head down towards the table and mumbled something that Hermione didn't catch.
Ginny, who was sitting beside him, looked down and patted his head teasingly. “Ronny here and
Madame Rosmerta have what I like to call a `fawn and flop' relationship.”

Hermione and Harry both laughed as they saw Ron's shoulders slump. He gathered the strength
to pull his head upwards and was glaring at the lot of them, causing them to laugh even harder.
“Just you wait, we'll be married someday and you lot will be kissing the ground her beautiful
feet walk on!”

Harry elbowed Hermione gently in the side to get her attention and said softly, “That's what
he said about Fleur Delacour, but she ended up marrying Bill.”

Hermione remembered the name of one of Ron's many older brothers and laughed at the pathetic
vibe she got from it. Ginny felt the need to chime into this particular situation as well and
Hermione was all too willing to listen to what she had to say. “Good `ol Phlegm was part Veela, so
Ronny didn't stand a chance. Even Harry wasn't prone to her looks—but when it came to her
personality, it was a total turn off. Although, I'm sure if you put him under Veritaserum
he'd still say he'd want to shag her.”

“Not true!” Ron said, affronted.

“Oh really, so if I said that I had a vile of Veritaserum in my pocket right now, you'd
drink it and tell us that again.” Harry said, very amused.

“Of course” Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest. After a moment, he gave a wary look at
Harry and asked in a hushed tone, “You don't *really* have any, do you?”

He seemed to be serious and they all, save Ron, burst out in laughter. Madame Rosmerta came up a
few seconds later with their drinks and they all thanked her in turn. Ron chose to avoid her gaze,
a move that Hermione found to be hilarious. All thoughts of a nasty comment were ceased, however,
when she took her first sip of butterbeer in over a year. The warm liquid filled her taste buds and
awakened them as though there had been a drought and this was the sweet nectar they needed to
recover. Hermione held back a moan, not wanting to catch the attention of her tablemates. But,
apparently, her expression gave it away.

“Are you sure you've had butterbeer before, Herms?” Ginny asked with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione nodded, taking another sip of the delicious elixir, “Yeah, it's just been ages
since I've had it.”

They all nodded in agreement and went back to their drinks. They spent a good half hour talking
about school and the latest gossip that was filtering through Hogwarts. Harry seemed to get bored
quickly with the stories having to do with him, for he was completely slouched in his seat and
staring at his empty butterbeer bottle with a glazed expression. Ginny and Ron seemed to be
ignoring him and kept on chatting. Hermione, however, found herself looking at him and observing
the way he was twirling the bottle on its bottom and leaving a wet pile of excess water underneath
it.

“Are you two alright?” The voice of Ron broke her from where she seemed to be lost in numb
thought. Harry seemed to be brought back from wherever his mind was at the same time she was and
was looking at Ron with an odd expression. “You guys seemed to be off in another world for a
minute, there.”

“I was just thinking” Harry responded quickly.

“Met too” Hermione said.

Ron seemed to buy it and lifted up his sleeve to look at his watch. “We should get going if we
still want to hit Zonkos and Honeydukes.”

They all agreed and paid for their drinks quickly, heading down the road past a few stores until
they arrived at Honeydukes. The outside of the store in itself looked appetizing, the display
window filled with succulent-looking sweets and moving objects that seemed to be put up simply to
lure people into the store. Hermione entered behind Ron and stopped in her tracks, floored by the
number of candies atop the ceiling-high shelves. Her mouth was watering with anticipation as she
approached a display of heavenly fudges towards the middle of the crowded store, all packaged in
brightly colored boxes. She thanked Merlin that she had brought a decent amount of galleons with
her as she picked out a few of the ones she thought to look the most appetizing and continued her
scouting of the rest of the store.

By the time she considered herself to be finished, she had found a basket and piled the candy
and fudge into it with vigor, making her way to the check-out counter quickly, intent on devouring
each piece of her treats as soon as humanly possible. Hermione ended up waiting behind Ginny in the
line and she turned to look at her with a smile, which then turned to doe-like eyes as she let her
eyes fixate to what was in Hermione's hands. Hermione immediately pulled the candy back slowly
out of reflex as Ginny stared at her.

“Are you seriously going to buy all of that?” She asked in awe.

Hermione nodded and she laughed a little to herself, “I keep on forgetting it's your first
time here.”

Hermione smiled at her and continued to wait for her time to pay for the items. Ginny was saved
from being a distraction, as she was up next and paid for her handful of sweets. Hermione stepped
up after her and placed the basket atop the counter and pretended not to notice the clerk's
look of astonishment at her large number of sweets. She quickly paid for her purchase and turned to
walk towards where Harry, Ron, and Ginny were waiting for her towards the exit. But when she turned
to look out the window for a brief moment, she saw Draco tapping lightly on the glass and pointing
to a secluded alley between two shops across from where they were. She turned towards the three
people she was supposed to meet up with quickly and nodded. He made his way to the alley after her
confirmation, dodging the traffic of people along the street.

Hermione came up to them and they all turned to smile at her. She returned their smile with a
false air of confidence and quickly made up a lie to ditch them, “I have to go run a letter to my
parents really quick, so do you guys mind going to Zonkos without me and I'll meet you there in
a few minutes?”

They turned to look at each other and Ginny spoke on behalf of them, “Sure, no problem.
We'll see you in a few minutes.”

Hermione smiled gratefully at them and thought to herself, *W**ell that was easier than I
thought.* *These people* *are* *truly becoming more and more gullible with the*
*coming weeks.*

She let them walk out of the store in front of her and waited for them to be far away enough for
her to sprint over to where Draco was hiding without being noticed. She arrived in the dark alley
quickly and looked for the head of platinum hair that was always so potent in darker areas. She
found him well towards the back, where there was a high fence and a few piled up boxes filled with
trash and used magical items that seemed to be faulty. Draco turned around to face her and she
dropped her bags along the wall. He swiftly backed her up against the hard wall and kissed her
vigorously, catching her slightly off guard. It had been a while since they had done this and she
had forgotten how spontaneous he was. She allowed him to probe the entrance of her mouth and trace
the length of his tongue with hers. She moaned when he touched the small of her back and lifted the
hem of her sweater to tough the bare of her skin. He really was a fantastic kisser.

But she had made a promise to herself that she would have no romantic (if you could call it
that) entanglements while on her mission. So with a sudden burst of strength, she pushed him off of
her and caused him to stumble into the wall opposite her with a bemused expression on his face.
“Hey, what was that for?!” He asked, while brushing the small bit of dirt he had gathered on his
jacket from his collision off of his shoulder.

“You know full well what that was for, you dolt!” she said with slight humor in her voice, “I
already told you that we can't do that while I'm on mission here.”

“But I needed some action, Mia, I'm dying!” He said, throwing his hands up in
exasperation.

“Just get Pansy, I'm sure she'd be more than willing to fulfill your *needs.*” She
said with a slight smirk.

He returned her look, “You and I both know that she's not as good as you are in the
sack.”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders in a noncommittal way, “Not my problem.” He knew that there was
no reasoning with her after that point, so his face dropped to the ground in disappointment. “Now
why did you drag me all the way over here? Surely it was more than your randy hormones itching
their way out of your pants.”

“Ha ha” he laughed dryly. He stepped closer to her and his expression turned serious abruptly.
She was immediately thrown out of her calm demeanor and looked into his grey eyes with intensity.
“He wants to speak with you.”

Her heart dropped. “*Now?**”*

He nodded and stepped back towards the fence. Hermione followed him to see a basin filled with a
glowing liquid that looked similar to a pensive lying atop one of the stacks of boxes. Draco
stepped aside and allowed Hermione to get closer to it. She leaned down to look into the swirling
liquid and saw the Dark Lord's face appear in the substance slowly. Hermione had to hold back a
sharp intake of breath as she became face-to-face with her master. He seemed to see her surprise,
however, and smiled.

“Hello Hermione, I see Malfoy was true to his word in getting you to the basin.” His deep voiced
echoed. She only nodded in response, not knowing what else to say. “It has come to my knowledge
that you were sorted into Gryffindor, correct?”

Hermione's stomach lurched in fear. He would surely scorn her for it and demand answers that
she did not have. She resorted to a one word answer, trying to save herself from giving him any
other reason to heighten his sure displeasure at the situation, “Yes.”

He nodded in confirmation, “I have to say that I'm impressed.”

Hermione's brow furrowed. That was definitely not what she had been expecting. Where was the
anger, the hostility, the questions? “Impressed?” she asked in a breathy voice.

“Why yes” he said simply, “It takes a truly gifted wizard to fool the Sorting Hat into placing
you into a house opposite of the one you were destined for. Even I must say that it must have taken
much strength and will-power in order to accomplish that, making your mission all the more easier
for you to accomplish.”

She was floored. He thought that she had tricked the hat! The urge to correct him was brief, she
knew that she had to take advantage of this and not make him question her ability for this job.
“Thank you, master.”

“How are you classes coming along? Anything you are having trouble with?” he asked.

She shook her head, “Not at the moment. All of my classes are fairly easy and most are with
H—Potter.” She had to correct herself quickly. She had almost said Harry!

He nodded in approval, “Making it far less difficult into befriending him and easing your way
into his group of Muggle-loving cronies, I presume.”

“Yes, sir, most definitely.” She said.

“Excellent. Any news you have for me concerning Potter?” he asked.

Hermione knew to what he was referring to. Things like the D.A. and if he was training for the
final battle. She had promised herself that she wouldn't tell him about the club, so she had to
resort to lying. “No, master, nothing at the moment”

“Well it is early in the term, so you still have time to get closer to him and find those things
out. I want you to become one of his closest alumni, I hope you realize this. It may be revolting,
but sometimes one must resort to drastic measures to get to their goal.” He said with a cool
expression.

Hermione nodded, “I understand, sir.”

“Good. That's all I needed to speak with you about. Expect another visit from me soon;
Malfoy will fetch you when you are needed. Nice job so far, Hermione, keep up the good work.” And
with that, he faded from the confines of the basin. Hermione exhaled a deep breath and looked up to
see Draco tossing a rock up and down in the air lazily. He noticed the silence and looked up to
meet her eyes.

“You know, you're lucky that I didn't tell him the look on your face when you were
sorted into Gryffindor.” He said with a cocked eyebrow. Hermione clenched her jaw and he smirked at
her, “Slow your roll, Mia, I'm not going too. I want to help you, remember.” He walked up to
her and put his hands on her shoulders in what he thought was a comforting manner, “Just remember
to keep your feelings in check around Potter, eh? It's getting quite sickening seeing you blush
that way when he smiles at you.”

When he bent down to try and kiss her again, she shoved his hands off of her shoulders, picked
up her bags, and stormed out of the alley, leaving him staring after her. She walked down the
street towards Zonkos in time to see Harry and Ron paying for their things. Hermione entered and
saw the many colorful, alluring objects begging for attention. She ignored them, however, and
walked up to tap Ginny on the shoulder. She turned around slowly and frowned at her, “You were gone
an awfully long time. What held you up?”

“Oh, long line.” Hermione answered flatly.

Ginny seemed to accept her excuse and they both turned to wait for Harry and Ron to finish
buying their things. They were along shortly and both asked similar questions to Ginny's, to
which she replied with the same pathetic excuse she had used before.

They all made their way to the carriages, deciding they were finished for the day. Piling into
the small transport, they found themselves in the same order they had been in on the way to the
village. Harry had recounted something Hermione had missed when she was “sending a letter to her
parents” and she could see that he was trying to keep a straight face.

“And then, Ron asked the attendant if it was real chocolate. He said, yes, of course, and he ate
it. A few seconds later, his teeth were green and he was singing a horrid rendition of the Wicked
Sisters in an Irish accent! It took five minutes for him to get back to normal, and by that time he
was yelling at the guy who convinced him it was real, asking for an apology, still sounding like
drunken Irishman!” By the time he was finished, Harry was laughing and clutching his side, causing
the whole lot of them to erupt in laughter. Even Ron had to admit that it was funny.

After they all recovered, Harry turned to Hermione and asked in a low voice, “Do you think that
tops the boxer incident?”

Hermione chuckled and shook her head, “Not by a long shot.”

Harry smiled at her, “Well then we'll just have to keep on waiting.”

She felt her face get warm when he smiled at her. Hermione immediately turned away and tried to
cool down her face with her hands. Draco was right, the little blighter! She actually
*blushed*! She mentally scolded herself, using a fair few curse words she forgot were in her
vocabulary, and as they arrived at Hogwarts, she found herself in a much sourer mood than she was
when boarding the carriages that morning.

-->



7. Day of the Dead
------------------

**A/N: So I guess you guys are pretty mad at me for adding that little Draco “interlude” last
chapter. Sorry, but I warned you that it would take a while for him to go away! Draco will
eventually progress into something more valuable and you will come to realize that you really love
him ;) At least, I hope you do… Anyway, I know that you guys will like this chapter and I’m pretty
sure it will make up for my Draco/Hermione lovin’.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn’t mine! I may be good, but I’m not *THAT* good!**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Day of the Dead**

*It was dark.*

*She was in a hallway; a long, narrow, poorly lit hallway. Her feet were carrying her almost
mechanically to the place she knew that she had to be. There was only one thought going through her
mind: Death. She was going to face death. Not her death… no that would be far too stupid to walk to
her own death. It was someone else’s. She was going to go kill someone.*

*Her wand was gripped tightly in her right hand, turning the knuckles white with strain. She
must really hate this person in order for her to act like this. Usually, when she killed, her wand
would lay almost limp in her hand so the risk of it flying when she cast the spell was high. But
this time she was making sure it would not leave the confines of her hand.*

*Flashes of their appearance went past her line of vision, angering her even further. Messy,
dark hair was the only thing that remained potent. He was someone she knew. Why didn’t it make this
harder, then? If she knew this person that she was about to kill, why wasn’t there any
hesitation?*

*She walked up the flight of stairs she knew lead to the Astronomy Tower and her breath began
to get ragged. This was the moment, the moment she would come face-to-face with her prey. She was
the lioness and they were the small mouse that got in her way. She needed to keep her mind on the
plan, and not let it dawdle. She was here to kill. She was here to conquer them. She was here to
prove herself.*

*The fresh air of the tower hit her like a large gush of ocean mist. Refreshing, but at the
same time awakening your senses. She was almost there. Their outline could be made out on the far
end of the tower, near the edge. Perfect.*

*She did her best to keep her footsteps quiet, walking on the balls of her feet. Her air
supply was cut short as she began to hold her breath, only letting it out through her nose when
necessary. He was only a few meters away now. His lean silhouette was coming into view. The moon
was the only source of light and she took it as another tactic as she tried to hide in the shadows.
She could hear him breathing.*

*Her wand arm began to move up on its own accord, aiming at his unarmed back. It was then she
felt the small twinge of hesitation wash over her. Should she really stoop so low as to cursing
someone when their back was turned?* Yes, *her common sense answered.* It is nothing you
haven’t done before.

*Of course, she was just being stupid. It was now or never. She opened her mouth and drew in
some final intakes of air to recite the curse she knew so well. Her feet took her out of the
shelter of the shadows as she got a good angle. But something stopped her. His back had tensed and
he was beginning to turn around as if he sensed her. No, she* knew *he sensed her. She was
stiff and her body refused to move back into the shadows.*

*He had completely turned around and was staring into her eyes. She stared back and watched as
his gaze turned to her raised wand and his expression faltered to one of shock. His eyes
re-connected with hers with a shine of vulnerability. It was her chance to do something but she
found herself unable to open her mouth. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity,
her arm beginning to grow sore and shake as though a ton of iron bricks had been placed atop it.
Still, she did not waver.*

*His voice was so quite, she had to strain her ears to hear it. “I trusted you.”*

*Her eyes began to shine with unshed tears as she continued to focus on him. Her intent was to
kill him, so why wasn’t she doing anything? Why was she just standing there like a fool and
crying?*

*“What have you done?”*

*A lone tear escaped down her cheek and she gathered up all of the courage she had and spoke,
“I’m sorry.”*

*She walked closer to him; wand still raised and began to speak the curse—the curse that would
end his life. He looked heartbroken but never moved to defend himself. After a pregnant pause she
came within inches of him. But it was then the moon chose to shine its light upon the two of them.
She saw his eyes, his beautiful emerald eyes hidden beneath his rounded spectacles and came undone.
Her wand had turned to butter as it slipped through her fingers. She watched it fall and looked up
at him curiously. Why had she done that?*

*His expression contorted once again, this time with one which made her stomach contract. A
hint of a smile grazed his lips and she opened her mouth to say something, anything, to break the
silence. But fate had other plans.*

*A figure floated up behind him and her breath caught in her throat. His red eyes pierced her
skin as he stared at her with displeasure. Harry remained unfazed, as if he were a statue. “You
disappoint me, Hermione. I gave you one mission and you can’t even do it without turning into a
sap.” His gaze flickered to Harry and she stiffened.*

*“Don’t touch him.” She heard herself say in warning.*

*He raised his brow at her, “I don’t think you grasp the situation at hand here. You fail to
complete your assignment and I have to pick up the pieces.”*

*“No.” she said firmly.*

*“And what are you going to do to stop me?”*

*She raised her wand arm only to realize that her wand had vanished. She heard laughter and
saw that her wand was in the slimy hands of her master. Her eyes widened in fear as he pointed his
hand to the still form of Harry.*

*“NO!” she screamed as a green beam of light shot out of her wand.*

Her eyes darted open.

Hermione let her eyes travel her surroundings and let out a puff of relieved breath. It had only
been a dream, and an odd one at that. It was as if she were a whole different person! She couldn’t
even kill the person who was supposed to be her target? Honestly, dreams were such a nuisance, it
was a wonder she ever had them at all.

Sighing and accepting that the option to go back to sleep was moot, she threw off her covers and
checked the clock by her bedside table. It was nine in the morning. She let herself panic for a
moment before realizing it was Saturday. And, better yet, it was Halloween. She had an entire feast
to look forward to today. Hermione smiled as she slid off of her bed and into the bathroom to get
ready for the day ahead of her.

Ginny was, unsurprisingly, on one of the sofas already wide awake and looking to be working on
an essay. Hermione walked over to where she was sitting and plopped down on the armchair nearest to
her. Ginny’s head shot up at the movement and smiled at her. “You’re up later than usual.” She
commented.

Hermione nodded, “Yeah, I was actually dreaming for once.”

Ginny looked at her with a naughty glint in her eyes, “And was it an *interesting*
dream?”

Hermione snorted at her innuendo and replied, “It was more like a nightmare than anything.”

Her face fell with disappointment as she turned back to her assignment, “Oh.”

“Sorry that my dreams don’t stimulate your aching loins, Gin.” Hermione chipped with a
smirk.

Ginny giggled and twisted back to look at her, “Just take comfort that anything having to do
with the opposite sex and their reproductive organs is my area of expertise and I take pride in
that”

Hermione chuckled and let Ginny get back to her assignment. She sat there in silence until an
idea struck her. “Hey, Ginny”

The red head turned to look at her, “Yeah?”

Hermione pursed her lips and second guessed herself for a moment. Should she really ask her
this? The girl was bound to ask questions and she knew that if she answered them honestly, her head
and her dignity would be on the line. But this was a growing problem that agitated her to no end…
and if she just made up the rest she would get the answer she was looking for! Genius. “Can I ask
you something having to do with—?”

“Oh yes, yes a thousand times yes! Ask away!” she said with excitement, clapping her hands
together and forgetting her assignment.

Hermione shook her head at her reaction, but sobered as she gathered up the last amount of guts
she had. “I’ve been having this weird… feeling when I’m around this guy. It’s like my stomach is
trying single-handedly to jump out of my throat. I have no idea what it means and was hoping
you—”

“You like him.” Ginny answered simply.

It was an understatement to say that she was floored, “W-what?”

“You like him, you want to jump his bones… however you want to put it.” Ginny said as though she
was reciting it out of some unknown manual.

“But… but that’s impossible…” Hermione trailed off. This bird was mental! She could not, should
not, and surely would *never* like someone like *him*! It was preposterous! Ginny was
anything but an expert if that was her conclusion.

“Honestly, Herms. It’s perfectly normal to like someone. Whether it’s just a passing fancy or a
stable lust, all of it is a part of being a normal, hormonal teenager.” She explained in what
Hermione though sounded like a matter-of-*false*-fact tone.

Hermione resisted the urge to scream, “*I’m not a normal teenager, you twit!”* And instead
settled to nodding her head like an idiot.

“Sooo…” Ginny started in an innocent voice, “Who’s the guy?”

Hermione did her best to remain calm. She had to come up with a lie that she would believe, and
“*No one…”* didn’t seem like something that she would accept as an accredible answer. “Erm…
you don’t know him.”

Ginny’s eyebrows narrowed, “You sure you’re not just embarrassed about liking him or something?
Is it Neville?”

“No!” she blurted quickly, “I mean, I grew up with the guy and he goes to another school in…
Bulgaria.”

“Yeah, whatever” Ginny said passively, “But trust me when I say that these feelings usually
don’t go away easily. I mean, I’ve been feeling that way towards Harry for ages, but the bloke
didn’t even ask me out until last year! Guys are extremely thick-headed when it comes to this type
of stuff.”

“R-right” Hermione didn’t like the feeling that her stomach was giving her. This was a
completely different one from the other she had been experiencing lately. It was an unpleasant
clenching feeling in her lower stomach. Why must that useless organ cause her so much pain?

Ginny put a comforting hand on her shoulder, which, to extents unbeknownst to her, angered
Hermione. “Remember, if you need anything feel free to come to me, alright?”

Hermione nodded with a faux smile. Ginny removed her hand and returned to her work, allowing
Hermione to relax if only for a moment to take all of this in.

She could not possibly like Harry like *that*. Sure, she had been tolerating him a lot
easier lately but… that didn’t mean she harbored sexual feeling for him! If she needed anything of
that nature, all she had to do was sneak down to the dungeons and ask Draco for a favor. But Ginny
had said that it wouldn’t go away easily… so did that mean that Draco couldn’t even help her? Harry
was her target and nothing more. Friendship, actual non-faked friendship, was as out-of-bounds as
you could get on a mission like this. Growing to like them… like *that…* it was unheard of,
and certainly not ethical! Sure he was sexy, in that good-guy kind of way. Yeah, his hair looked
really silky smooth even though there were always almost a dozen strands loose. Of course he—wait!
*Nonononononononononononono!* This was all *wrong!*

“Hello ladies!”

Hermione held back a groan when she heard Ron’s peppy voice from behind her. They had arrived.
Perfect, simply *perfect*! She refused to make Harry’s eyes has he took a seat next to Ginny,
not really feeling like regurgitating the contents of her stomach. If the feeling she felt while
around him mixed with the feeling she felt when she was around Ginny, she was certain that would be
the case.

“So, do you guys want to get something to eat or what?” Ron asked, looking very eager.

“Sure” Ginny replied, setting down her quill, “I could really use a break.”

“How long have you been working on that thing, Gin?” Harry asked with concern.

“Oh, just a few hours.” She replied, waving a hand about coolly.

Ron’s face contorted to what Hermione could only assume was disgust. “How you are even remotely
related to me, I will never know.”

“Well if the red hair and high temper wasn’t a straight giveaway, I have no idea either.” Ginny
replied with a sneer.

“Smartass…” Ron mumbled, causing the group to laugh.

After a moment, they all got up and made their way to the Great Hall, Hermione, noticeably
silent along most of the way. She was thankful that no one seemed to notice but was sure that Harry
would speak up eventually. She took the time that was usually used for enjoying the cooking that
was always so divine in her mind to think of something to blame her quietness on. She couldn’t very
well say that she was avoiding speaking because of fear of blurting out that she might harbor
feelings of a sexual sort about him. The only thing that kept her sane was that there were no
feelings attached to this… this predicament. It was only lust, pure, unadulterated lust and nothing
else; perfectly normal… perfectly sane.

“Are you alright, Hermione?”

And there it was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just tired.” She lied smoothly. Well, that had come out easier than she
thought. There was nothing to worry about. Hermione relaxed as she continued to pick at her food,
finally relishing in its deliciousness.

Harry nodded at her, not believing a thing she said, but taking the normal route and not pushing
it. Thank Merlin he was thoroughly predictable or she would be on the hot seat.

Breakfast continued like that, Hermione being abnormally quiet and Harry casting fleeting
glances towards her, silently asking her if she was alright. It was bizarre that Hermione could
even tell that he was looking at her for that reason. It was almost as if she could read him
without trying. Usually, she had to at least put up some sort of effort to gain access into
someone’s mind without the use of Legilimency. But with Harry, she just *knew*.

*I must be getting better at it*, she thought to herself.

~*~

It was late-afternoon and Hermione found herself in the common room, studying for an upcoming
Divinations exam on the many uses of omens in everyday life. She still hated the class with a
passion and hoped that this mission really paid off in the long run if she had to endure these
tortuous days of predictions of her demise. The future was meant to be unseen, not studied.

She was in the middle of comparing the two omens of fire and ice when she felt someone come up
and sit next to her. Her stomach lurched once again and she knew who had elected to disturb her
studying. Taking a deep breath, she tried to ignore his strong presence beside her. But, of course,
her attempts were fruitless.

“Hey” his smooth voiced vibrated from beside her.

She turned up to look at him and smiled, “Hi.” He made a move to talk, but she chose to
interrupt him, not wanting to make up anymore pathetic excuses for her behavior that day, “Look, I
know I’ve been acting weird today but you don’t need to charm me into telling you, alright? It’s my
business and I would appreciate it if you’d just back off.”

Harry looked affronted, “I didn’t come over here to make you tell me anything, Hermione.”

Hermione felt her face fall and color come to her cheeks in embarrassment, “Oh, well… that’s
rather embarrassing, then.”

She saw him nod, “Don’t worry about it, I understand”

She smiled lightly, “You are a very understanding person, aren’t you?”

He nodded, “I like to think so.”

“Well why don’t we just get you an award then?” she joked.

“I wouldn’t object to that” he said with a laugh, “I would like it to be silver with my name
engraved right in the middle.”

Hermione chuckled, “I see you’ve given much thought to this.”

“Oh yeah, definitely. When you’re on death watch, you get to think about some things.” He
said.

Hermione knew it was meant as a joke, but to her it was anything but. Her expression and the air
about her sobered as she looked at him pointedly, “Why did you come over to talk to me, Harry?”

The smile was wiped off of his face, “Can’t a guy come over and talk to his friend?” Hermione
gave him a look and he chuckled. “Well, I have been nominated on behalf of Ron and Ginny to invite
you to the Burrow this Christmas.”

Hermione’s brow wrinkled in confusion, “What’s the Burrow?”

“Oh, it’s their house!” Harry said, just realizing that she was foreign to the word. “You’ll
find out why when you see it. That is… if you want to?” he ended hesitantly.

Hermione carefully considered the question. On the bright side, it would give her more chances
to get closer to Harry. On the not-so-bright side, she would be surrounded by Weasley’s, and if
they were anything like the two she already knew, that was a hazard in itself. But she vaguely
remembered what Harry had said about them—how caring, loving, and successful they were in their own
right. The only two she heard nothing about were the parents to the many young red heads. She
recalled seeing a plump woman in the middle of a sea of red on Platform 9 ¾, which must have been
the mother. She looked homely enough.

“Sure” she finally concluded, “I would love to.”

“Fantastic!” he exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement. “You won’t regret saying yes, the
Burrow is always amazing. You like the school food, right?”

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, “Yes”

“Well Mrs. Weasley’s cooking is a hundred times better than that!”

“I didn’t think that was even possible…” she mused.

“Neither did I. And if we get word back to her soon enough, she’ll knit you a sweater.” He
said.

“A sweater?” she asked.

“Yeah, she knits them every year for Ron, Ginny, Me, and basically everyone she considers
family.” He explained.

“I would be considered family?” she asked, clearly reproachful.

“Anyone who is a friend of her kids is family to her.” He said with a grin. *He must be really
close to their family…* she concluded mentally.

“Shouldn’t anyone crazy enough to befriend Ron and Ginny get more than just a sweater?” she
asked jokingly.

He laughed, “You’re probably right, but good luck trying to convince Molly.”

Hermione found herself becoming more and more excited about Christmas. The food, the free
sweater, a family… it all was becoming increasingly appealing. “You really love her, don’t
you?”

He nodded, “She’s like a mum to me.”

She looked at him carefully, deciding the pained expression on his face was due to his history.
She knew what it felt like not to know your mum. She could never tell him that, though. It might
make her seem vulnerable and pose a threat to her homeschooling back story if it ever came into
play. She wanted desperately to comfort him, but pushed the thoughts aside. She never had anyone to
comfort her, so why should he?

He smiled at her and tried to change the subject from the dark one that loomed over them, “So
are you excited about your first Halloween feast tonight?”

She grinned, “Absolutely, I can’t wait!”

“You really like the school’s food, don’t you?” Harry asked curiously.

She nodded, “The best stuff I’ve ever eaten, until I go to the Burrow this Christmas, that
is.”

“Hmm…” he mumbled in thought. She was about to question him but he interrupted by speaking
again, “I remember when I first had the food here, I thought I had died and gone to heaven.”

“Exactly!” she said, glad that someone shared her opinion. “But everyone here seems to think
it’s nothing special. Must be the way their parents cook it, or something.”

“Or you were brought up by Molly.” Harry added.

“You’re making me increasingly eager for Christmas to get here, Potter.” She said playfully.

“And is that such a bad thing?” he asked.

“Well yes” she said stiffly, “I hate snow!”

Harry looked at her as if she had grown two heads. The expression was priceless and made
Hermione giggle to herself. “You hate snow?” he questioned carefully. She nodded and he continued
to look at her oddly, “How could you hate snow?”

Hermione looked at him as if the answer was obvious, “Its cold.”

Harry laughed at her, “You can’t be serious”

“And why not?” she asked cuttingly.

“You can’t simply hate something because of one of its minute qualities. What about the snowfall
fights and the days we have off of class because the heating charms break?” He listed off each of
the characteristics on his fingers for emphasis and Hermione couldn’t help but guffaw.

“Well I guess it has some appealing features, but they all end in the same result: freezing you
arse off and risking frostbite!” she sniped. Hermione crossed her arms and basked in her genius.
Surely, he could not come back with anything good.

“But you are forgetting the one thing we Gryffindors do best to warm up.” He motioned for her to
come closer to him with his finger and she complied hesitantly. “We have sex by the fire.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped as she shoved him in the shoulder, “You are such a pervert”

He was already laughing and looked at her through hooded eyes, “Hey, you asked for it!”

Hermione rolled her eyes and leaned back into her seat, her heartbeat apparently quicker.
*Stop it!* She commanded, but as she glanced back over at Harry it refused to obey.
*Damnit!*

“Hey, there you two are!” she heard Ginny’s sprightly voice call from the other side of the
common room.

Harry looked behind him and smiled over at his girlfriend. Hermione’s stomach clenched again and
she flinched. Thankfully, it went unnoticed as Ginny took a seat next to Harry who kissed her in
greeting. Hermione directed her attention to Ron, who elected to stand up and observe.

“What have you guys been up to?” he asked, smiling.

“Oh nothing, just talking about Christmas” Hermione disclosed with a smile.

Ginny’s eyes widened as she looked over at her. “Are you coming, then?” Hermione nodded and
Ginny squealed excitedly. “It’ll be so much fun!”

“Yeah, except for the fact that Hermione here doesn’t like snow.” Harry said teasingly as he
spared a glance in Hermione’s general direction.

“What?!” Ron bellowed.

“Erm…” Hermione started warily.

“Every year we have the annual Weasley snowball fight!” Ginny exclaimed.

Hermione glared over at Harry, “You never said anything about an annual snowball fight,
Harry.”

He smiled innocently at her, “You never asked.”

She frowned at him and looked back over at Ron, who looked like he was about to say something
that she knew she would regret acknowledging. “We are going to train you. No one is going to show
up at the Burrow unprepared for the fight, you’ll be demolished.”

“Plus the fact that I want you to be on my team, and we never lose.” Ginny chipped.

“Thanks, no pressure, right guys?” Hermione added sarcastically.

“Now why would we want to pressure you into anything?” Harry asked in a pristine voice.

She pointed a finger at him, “You stay out of this, Mister ‘What’s-so-wrong-with-snow?’.”

Harry snorted and Hermione glowered at him. He turned his face upwards for a moment and noticed
the clock, “Hey, it’s almost time for the fest.”

Hermione glanced up and saw that he was right and immediately sat up, setting Ron off of his
balance. He stumbled backwards and Harry and Ginny let out a small chuckle. Ron narrowed his eyes
at them as he regained his balance.

“Well I think we should get a move on if we want to get first dibs on the Pumpkin Pastries.”
Ginny said, breaking the silence.

They all agreed and made their way out of the common room. Hermione couldn’t help but notice how
Harry and Ginny’s hands interlaced mechanically as they got up and exited out of the portrait hole.
She felt slightly lightheaded as she stepped down into the hallway, almost losing her balance much
as Ron had done moments ago. Luckily, no one had noticed and she continued behind them at a steady
pace.

They arrived in the crowded hall just as Dumbledore was standing up to make an announcement.
Hermione quickly sat down next to Harry as Ron and Ginny took a seat opposite them. It was quite
odd, that Harry would elect to take a spot by her rather than with his girlfriend. But if she
looked at it logically it made sense. They would have a better angle to make those disgusting
goggle-eyes that teenage couples always felt the need to do. Oh, and it would be easier to play
footsie.

Or, they knew about her conflicting emotions and did it on purpose! Yes, that must be it.

“Welcome one and all, to the annual Halloween Feast.” Dumbledore’s voice boomed throughout the
hall. All attention was drawn to him and he smiled. “I would like to congratulate you on a nearly
spotless first few weeks of schooling. If my sources are correct, only around twenty detentions
were given out.” The hall let out a collective laugh as he continued, “Now, I am sure all of you
have been looking forward to the delicious treats we have in store for you. So please, tuck
in!”

The food appeared on the table and the students all began to pile food on their plates. Hermione
immediately reached for the garlic seasoned mashed potatoes but found that a hand collided with her
own on the journey. She looked over to see Harry smiling apologetically at her. She felt her face
envelope with warmth as she loaded her plate with potatoes and watched as Harry did the same
moments after. She felt so ashamed of herself because at that moment she knew. She *knew* that
she had some sort of feelings for him other than hate.

Hermione spared a glance over at the Slytherin table to see Draco sneering at her. She quickly
turned around and buried her head in her hands. She had always known there was a reason Halloween
was also referred to as the Day of the Dead.



8. Happy Birthday, Hermione
---------------------------



**A/N: Whew, another close call,** **I ended up actually having a life this weekend!
Strange, I know, but it's bound to happen to the best of us at one time or another. You people
are getting ruthless in your plot to get Harry and Hermione** **together!!** **Slow you roll
guys, it will happen… eventually. You will come to find that I'm one of those authors who**
**enjoys** **URST very much. They** **will** **get together, but all in due time.**
**So please, be patient, it will soooo be** **worth it in the end, I promise =]**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. He and all of the other lameo pairing are property
of JKR. And you know what, she can have them! Well… except Harry, he's mine *grins***

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Happy Birthday, Hermione**

The day was November 19, the time was nine in the morning, and where was Hermione? She was in
Gryffindor Tower, finishing an essay about the last battle between the Goblins and the Imps.
Although a seemingly boring subject to be assigned an essay to, she found herself addicted to
describing the casualties of the historic battle, the numbers growing to dangerously high numbers
within a matter of hours into the fight. Hermione suspected that her growing interest in her
schoolwork was due to the increasingly growing difficulty that the professors were dishing out.
Difficulties were what made her strong in training and she knew that when she was challenged at a
*school*, then she would come out stronger. At the beginning of the term, she had been able to
predict everything that was going to come out of their mouths before they even thought of what they
were going to say, but now she was furiously scratching her quill across her parchment, trying
desperately to keep up with their lectures. She had thought a few times to ask someone for help
with the more difficult subjects, but decided against it. Hermione Granger didn't need
anyone's help.

Another and more potent reason was that the feelings that she first acknowledged a few weeks
ago, were now fully dominant in her daily life. No matter where she went, no matter what she did,
Harry was always on her mind. Studying and homework made for a good distraction, if only for a
little while. But half of the time Harry usually found her and asked if she could use some company.
Her conscious mind always screamed against it, but her big, fat mouth refused to listen. Then she
ended up having another easy-to-maneuver conversation with him and fell even deeper into the hole
she knew was being dug. Why couldn't she ever say no to him? It was as if he had put a spell on
her or something! But no matter how much Hermione tried to divert the blame from herself, she knew
that it was far from the truth.

Distractions could only last so long when you are trying to avoid something.

“Hey Hermione”

At first, when Hermione felt a presence coming up behind her, she thought it was Ginny. After
all, she was the only person that got up as early as she did on a weekend. Unfortunately, she was
proved wrong. “Hello Harry”

He took a seat next to her and gave her a smile, one that made her stomach twist in knots again.
If this is what friendship felt like, why was she so adamant in convincing herself that it
wouldn't be so bad? It hurt like hell! He kept smiling and soon the pain was too much to
bear.

“What?!” she said harshly.

“Do you want to go down and eat breakfast?” he asked levelly, not affected by her harsh
tone.

Hermione narrowed her eyebrows suspiciously, “But Ginny and Ron aren't even up yet.”

He nodded, “Exactly”

“Not usually the words used to explain the absence of your best friend and girlfriend.” Hermione
commented, looking at him pointedly.

He shrugged his shoulders, “I want to show you something.”

She looked at him reproachfully, wondering what had brought this on. “Why?”

He shook his head in bewilderment. Hermione opened her mouth to speak up again, but he took her
hand and led her off of the couch. His touch on her hand caused her to drop her quill as a shock as
fast as lightning zapped through her body, starting from her fingertips to her toes. What in
Merlin's name was *that*?

“Come on” was the only thing he said as he led her out of the tower and into the hallway.

Hermione remained silent as he led her down a series of halls and stairs. She didn't want to
think, didn't want to ruin this… this *moment*. The only reason she even considered this a
moment was because his hand hadn't let go of hers since they had left. It wasn't as if she
were gripping on for dear life, begging him not to let her hand go; her hand was virtually limp,
only curling around his slightly so she wouldn't lose grip and fall behind. She wondered
vaguely if he could feel her hand beginning to sweat at the pressure. At least, she thought it was
because of the pressure.

It was when Hermione came into view of a large portrait of a fruit basket that they stopped.
Hermione observed the area, wondering what was so special about this place. There was only a
portrait. She turned to look at him with an odd look, “What am I supposed to see here?”

Harry only smiled at stepped up to the portrait, coming to focus on the pear buried within it.
Hermione opened her mouth to question him when hi hand came up and he tickled the pear. That's
right, *tickled*. Hermione stood there, transfixed by the movement and almost jumped when the
portrait swung open. He stood agape at the hidden doorway as Harry turned to look at her. He took
her hand again and led her into the room.

It was as though she had died and gone to heaven.

The kitchen, she was in the Hogwarts *kitchen*.

“Oh Merlin” she breathed as she started to look around the room. She saw cabinets upon cabinets
filled with food of every kind—ranging from sliced carrots to packaged meats. Pots and pans aligned
the walls and she could see a brick fireplace on one end of the large room. In fact, the room was
so large, that she thought it was an exact replica of the Great Hall, with tables that looked like
the house tables, but empty. Cooling spells were present to preserve the foods which needed it and
she could feel the slight chill they gave off. She spun around to look at Harry to see him looking
at her with a grin on his face.

“Happy Birthday, Hermione”

Her mouth dropped open. She had forgotten that today was her birthday and *he* had
remembered it, just like he said he would. “Y-you remembered?”

“Of course I did” he said.

She took another look around the room, “And this—”

“This is my present. You told me that you loved the food here so I thought I'd share my
little secret with you: unlimited access to the school kitchens. But only Ron knows, so try to keep
it on the down low, yeah?” he asked in a hush.

Hermione nodded, “I just… no one has really ever done something like this for me before”

His brow furrowed, “Really?”

“Yeah” she answered honestly.

“Not even your parents?” he asked.

She shook her head and caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of her eye. She turned and saw
a house elf bustling around the kitchen and had to contain a gasp. She turned back to Harry,
“What's a house elf doing here?”

“Oh, well they're the cook's here.” he explained.

Hermione looked startled, “Really?”

He nodded, “But don't worry, I know one who gets paid to work here. They all love it working
at Hogwarts.” he pointed to a table near the middle of the room, “Wanna take a seat?”

Hermione smiled and followed Harry to the table. She sat down across from him as a house elf
with tennis-ball shaped green eyes came to halt next to him. There was something familiar about
this elf, but she couldn't quite place it. “Mister Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is so pleased to
see you!”

It was then that it clicked. *Dobby*! Her old house elf, Dobby! Her eyes widened and she
bowed her head down, suddenly conscious of her appearance. If he recognized her, she would be in
*deep shit*! Although half of her wanted to shout out who she was, if only to talk to him as
if nothing had changed, she knew that that wasn't the best idea at the moment. Hopefully time
had been good to her and disguised the 13-year-old he used to know.

“Hello Dobby, how've you been?” Harry asked politely.

“Dobby has been good, sir, very good! Who is Harry Potter's new friend?” Dobby looked over
to Hermione and she met his eyes, trying to mask her fear.

“Oh, where are my manners, Dobby this is—”

“If you don't mind, Harry, I would just like to get something to eat and get back to my
essay.” Hermione interrupted, plastering an innocent smile on her face.

Harry gave her an odd look, “Umm… alright, then. Dobby, could you just bring us some flapjacks
and breakfast muffins with eighteen candles on them, please?”

Dobby nodded enthusiastically, “Right away, sir!”

The house elf scurried off and Harry turned over to Hermione, looking at her oddly. She smiled
at him meekly and tried to avoid his gaze. “What was *that* about?”

“Nothing, I… I just want to get back to my essay is all.” She lied.

He didn't believe her. “Hermione, it's your birthday. You need to relax, take it
easy.”

She shook her head, “It's just another day, Harry—another day, another essay that I need to
complete.”

He sighed, “I used to think that.”

She tilted her head at him in curiosity, “What do you mean `used to'?”

“Well, after so many `surprise' parties courtesy of the Weasley's you get used to the
idea of your birthday being worth celebrated. Plus, the gifts aren't half bad, either.” He said
with a grin.

“So you're just in it for the presents, then?” she asked humorously.

He smirked, “Naturally.” When her face lost the small traces of humor, he spoke up in a serious
tone, “You *have* celebrated your birthday before, right?”

She scoffed, “Of course I have.” A flash of her last “birthday present” and she let her already
rising temper show in her features. Harry seemed to notice this and raised an eyebrow at her,
knowing that there was something else she wasn't telling him. She thought about it for a
second, wondering if she should let him in again. On the logical side, it was the right decision,
trimming the edges of anything that would give away her true identity. Besides, she had already
done it a few times before and he never seemed suspicious of her motives. She sighed, “My…
family's way of celebrating it usually only benefitted them rather than me. It got to the point
where I just couldn't take it anymore and asked them to stop about three years ago. But my…
*boyfriend* always insisted on giving me a gift every year and the same thing happened. You
can use your imagination for the rest.”

He nodded in understanding, a slight frown present on his lips, “What constitutes only
benefitting them?”

She smiled smugly, “Well he usually finished before I—”

“I meant with your parents” he said, a repulsive look on his face, probably caused by the mental
picture Hermione had just drawn for him.

She laughed quietly at his face and answered him, “Parties, balls, anything designating as a
formal get-together where the only thing I was needed for was to blow out the candles.”

He looked at her placidly, “Must have been horrible.”

She shook her head, “Not really, the cake was always good.”

He chuckled, “You know what I mean.”

Nodding she tried to search for another sarcastic comment to keep her from digging up these old
wounds. There was nothing. So, she settled for being pathetic as a sad look washed over her
features. “You sort of become numb to it after a while. Your birthday slowly turns into another day
where the only thing different is that you grew a few inches more than last year.”

He leaned back in his seat, “Well when I was growing up, my birthday was never celebrated.”
Hermione was surprised at his confession. “So it's safe to say that you're not preaching to
the wrong choir. But even though it was just another day, I still tried to do something to
acknowledge it like bake muffins at midnight when my aunt and uncle were asleep or go to the
playground for the whole day even if it meant extra dishes to wash that night.”

Hermione thought for a moment before replying, “I guess… I never really cared much for growing
older. The older you are, the more you grow weaker, loose agility.”

He looked at her for a moment, “That's not entirely true. The older you get, the wiser you
get.”

“Yeah, but wisdom isn't always an easily acquired trait.” She reasoned.

“It just depends what kind of people you're around.” He said in a lucid voice.

She turned to look at him and sore she saw something flash in his eyes. It was like he was
trying to read her. She immediately put up her walls but didn't feel anything trying to press
against then. *Maybe he's using another way of reading you,* her mind supplied, *like
actually studying you and trying to figure you out the* normal *way.* But something in the
back of her head was rebelling; something was telling her that she shouldn't be thinking too
much on this. There were consequences of thinking too much, like showing emotion. She saw him lean
forward on his elbows slightly, tilting his to the side and continuing to look at her with that
searching look on his face.

“Here you are sir and miss!” Dobby's voice perked up from beside them.

Harry's neck craned over to where the smiling house elf was standing and smiled politely at
him. “Thank you, Dobby.”

Dobby nodded with a wide grin, “It is no problem, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby enjoys his company
very much!”

Hermione couldn't help but crack a smile at the familiar enthusiasm. It had always made her
smile when she was younger, and it was a small relief to know that even with years apart, he could
still affect her so. Dobby left with a slight bow and disappeared into the kitchen. Hermione looked
after him for a moment before turning to her food. She couldn't help but let her heart swarm at
the assortment of muffins and flapjacks, each with a lit candle or two on them. She looked up at
Harry to see him smiling at her.

“Make a wish” he said briskly, nodding to the food.

Hermione bit her lip as she thought of what she should wish for. She already had everything she
wanted at the tips of her fingers, so what else was there? Taking a chance, she leaned down and
blew out the candles with the one thing she had always used to wish for on her miserable birthdays:
happiness. Even though she was completely content with her life, she had never been truly happy.
Although she knew it was a long shot, as the wish had never come true thus far, it was still the
only thing she was missing. Each of the eighteen candles went out as though a large gust of wind
had blow by. Hermione smirked as she looked back up at Harry.

“So what did you wish for?” he asked, reaching for a muffin.

Hermione beat him and grabbed the muffin her was reaching for, plucking the single candle out
and taking a bite. He looked at her amusingly and she smiled, “You know as well as I do that you
don't tell anyone your wish or else it won't ever come true.”

He nodded and grabbed another muffin, taking a bite, “Yes, but now I know that it was something
you really want to come true. Usually, when it's a silly wish, people tell others what they
asked of the Birthday Fairy.”

Hermione chuckled, “Interesting analogy.”

“I like to think I'm a genius when it comes to these things.”

“Yeah, well don't get to full of yourself, you might explode or something.” She said,
beaming at him blithely.

“It would make good old Voldermort's job much easier. I can see the headline now, `Harry
Potter: Death by Humongous Ego'” he said with a laugh.

Hermione, however, didn't hear anything past the Dark Lord's name. “You… you speak his
name?” she asked, trying to hide the awe mixed with anger that she felt.

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Well yeah, it's just a name, isn't it?”

Hermione shook her head, “It's the name of the most powerful Dark Lord of all time! I
thought people feared speaking it, not say it as though it were the name of their confidant.”
*Control yourself, Hermione,* she told herself, *one slip and you're screwed.*

“You obviously haven't gotten to know me well, if that's your conclusion. When
you're number one on someone's hit list, you don't have a problem telling people who it
is.” He said calmly.

She narrowed her eyes, “You're very stubborn, aren't you?”

He raised his hands, “Sue me.”

Hermione couldn't help but smile. He was definitely different from anyone she had ever met.
*No one* had dared speak his name in front of her before, or anyone else for that matter. It
was a… relief. Even she had never spoken his name aloud and here was this guy who said it so
fluently that she couldn't help but be in awe. She *should* be angry, she *should* be
yelling at him, she *should* have some sort of emotion breaking through her other than
abatement. But Hermione couldn't do anything but feel admiration. He was brave, and she hailed
it.

Maybe this was what friendship was supposed to feel like, and the other contractions of her
stomach where an unpleasant side-effect. Admiration, the new feeling that she was growing to like,
was now pouring over her. She didn't know what to say, she was unable to speak. Luckily, Harry
chose that time to look at his watch and his eyes widened.

“Shit!” he cursed as he began to wipe the crumbs off of his shirt from the many muffins and
flapjacks he had been consuming. “I have a Quidditch game in twenty minutes!”

Hermione nodded and got up from the table, grabbing another muffin for the trip. Harry sent a
quick “Thank you!” to Dobby as they rushed out of the kitchen side-by side. Hermione tried her best
to keep pace with him, but felt herself wavering as they followed the single corridor. When they
arrived in the entrance hall, she looked behind her, trying to memorize the way for future
references. Hermione ran to catch up with Harry as they ascended all the way to the seventh floor.
Harry said the password to the tower and the fat lady let them through, Hermione nursing a slight
stitch in her side. She needed to get back into shape.

Harry turned to her, “Are you going to come?”

Hermione found herself nodding, “Of course, I wouldn't miss it.”

He sent her a dazzling smile and he sprinted up the stairs to his dormitory. Hermione sighed and
left the common room, following the route she knew led to the Quidditch pitch. Today's match
was Gryffindor versus Slytherin, the first game of the year. It was supposed to be held a week
previous, but due to an injury on the Slytherin team, it had been postponed a week. Hermione found
herself becoming excited at the premise of the game. She had gone to a few with the Malfoy's
when she was younger, but when she moved to Riddle Manor, she was forbidden to leave unless
otherwise ordered. She had missed watching the sport and the fact that it was her best friend up
against her… other friend, made it increasingly appealing.

She arrived at the pitch and took a seat in the Gryffindor stands. Ron, Ginny, and Harry were
all on the team so she found herself sitting alone. Not that she minded much, she was used to being
by herself She sat in silence for awhile, observing the view from the stands. You could see the
forbidden forest from where she sat, the trees blowing slightly in the cool breeze. She had elected
not to grab a coat on her way out, knowing that the forecast for today wasn't going to call for
one.

She heard the click of a megaphone and adjusted her position in her seat, turning her head to
look over at the commentator's booth. Her housemate Dean Thomas's voice boomed throughout
the pitch, “Welcome one and all to the first Quidditch match of the season!” Cheers were heard
throughout the stadium and he continued, “And here comes the Slytherin team: Malfoy, Goyle, Crabbe,
McLaughlin, Broadcorb, Zambini, and Vaisey!” The players all flew onto the field and did a lap,
circling the stands. Hermione saw Draco wink at her and she scoffed. “And the Gryffindor team:
Weasley, Robins, Weasley, Arndt, Yettaw, Wooster, aaaaannndddddd POTTER!” The stands erupted in
cheers once again, this time more lively and Hermione clapped her hands and let out a scream for
her house team. They also did a lap and Ginny waved at her. Hermione waved back and watched as they
all flew away.

She observed as they all assumed their positions and waited for Madame Hooch, the referee, to
blow the whistle and throw up the Quaffle to begin the game. She saw the older woman say something
to the players before blowing her whistle loudly and releasing the scarlet ball. The students
cheered as the players all swooped throughout the field. Ginny caught the Quaffle and sped towards
the three golden hoops on the Slytherin side of the field.

“Weasley has the Quaffle! She passes it to Wooster, to Yettaw, back to Weasley and… she scores!
Ten points to Gryffindor!”

Hermione cheered along with the rest of Gryffindor and a majority of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.
It continued like that, Ginny scoring most of the goals for Gryffindor and Broadcorb of Slytherin
getting some in as well. She realized that Crabbe and Goyle were horrible at beating Bludgers away,
as most of their team had already been hit more than once by them. Not that she was surprised, as
they were both complete idiots.

Harry was circling the pitch, his eyes focused on finding the snitch and Draco was on his tail.
Hermione rolled her eyes at his predictable behavior. He always had to follow someone, even if it
wasn't intentional. Once in a blue moon he would take action, but most of the time he was still
a slime ball waiting for orders. It was only when he was with her that he found the need to be in
control.

“Potter has seen the snitch!” Dean's amplified voice screamed.

And it was true, as Hermione saw a glimmer of gold in the path of Harry's broom. Draco came
up beside him and began pushing him out of the way. Hermione frowned as the two boys fought
furiously for the snitch. Draco continued to push Harry out of the way and she fought the urge to
scream at him. Why, she did not know. If truth be told, she *should* be rooting for her best
friend, the one she had known her whole life. But she felt compelled to root for Harry, the one who
had clearly spotted the snitch first.

“McLaughlin scores, ten points to Slytherin!”

Hermione held her breath. The score was now tied; eighty to eighty and the pressure was all on
the two seekers. The snitch was long gone and both boys were scowling at the other. It was then
that Harry made a dive to the ground, Draco immediately following him. Hermione saw that there was
no snitch and knew what he was pulling. She had seen many seekers do it before, but only a few had
pulled it off. The name of the dangerous move escaped her as her focus stayed on Harry and his
decent towards the ground at a maximum speed. Draco was on his tail by a few inches and Hermione
held her breath again, biting her lip until she felt the copper taste of blood fill her mouth.

She leaned forward as she saw Harry pull up inches from the ground. Hermione let out her breath
and closed her eyes in relief, thankful that he was alright. A gasp filled the stadium and her eyes
shot open. Draco was lying on the ground, rolling around in pain. She felt a tug in her gut as a
floating stretcher popped onto the field. The game continued on as Draco was levitated onto the
stretcher, looking to be unconscious. Hermione was so focused on him that she didn't see when
Harry had flown sharply to the left towards her side of the stands and catch a shiny, golden ball
in his palm.

“POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH, *GRYFFINDOOR WINS*!”

Hermione jumped up from her seat and screamed, all thoughts of Draco evaporating from her mind.
The Gryffindor team flew down to congratulate their seeker and Hermione smiled as he was caught in
a group hug. But Hermione's smiled faltered as he saw Harry pick up Ginny, twirl her around and
kiss her passionately on the lips as if in slow motion. The pain was in her chest this time. She
felt the breath leave her as she pushed her way past the people exiting the stands onto the field.
They were all gathered below around the team, congratulating them, and she had to shove her way
past them all. The exit was on the other side of the crowd and she was almost there when she heard
someone call her name.

“Hermione!” his voice was loud; she could hear the grin in it.

She chose not to acknowledge it and pushed her way through the crowd further, nearing the exit.
She heard him call her name again, penetrating her, making her chest ache even more. If all he did
was causing her pain, why was she even here in the first place? Why had she agreed to come?

Hermione reached the exit and she walked the way to the castle, her arms folded across her
chest. A wind blew against her and she shivered, cursing herself for forgetting about wind chill.
Her feet carried her and she was numb to her surroundings, just following wherever her instincts
told her to go. She heard the laughter and loud chatter behind her and quickened her pace into the
castle. She turned right at the main staircase and followed the long corridor to the portrait of a
fruit basket. She tickled the pair quickly and climbed into the doorway, leaning against it once
she was safely inside. Hermione didn't know what led her here, but she was relieved that her
mind had chosen a secluded place only few people knew about.

Hermione let her head loll to the side and let her body relax. She took a seat at the nearest
table and put her head down, letting her mind rest from the conflicting emotion running through her
mind. Her collective period was short-lived, however, as the pitter patter of footsteps interrupted
the silence. Jerking her head up, she saw big, green eyes staring up at her and she relaxed.

“Hello Dobby” she said, picking her head up and looking at the small house elf.

Dobby smiled at her widely, “Hello Miss Hermione!”

Hermione's blood ran cold as he continued to grin at her. “How… how did you know it was
me?”

“Dobby is very good at remembering his former masters” He stated proudly.

“Well, then why did you ask who I was earlier when I was with Harry?” she asked curiously.

“I never said it took Dobby a short period of time to remember.” He said with a blush on his
cheeks.

Hermione smiled sweetly at the elf when a thought struck her. “Dobby, how did you end up working
here at Hogwarts? I thought Luscious—”

“Dobby was set free, miss!” he cut in enthusiastically, “Harry Potter helped free Dobby from
that horrible man! He planted a sock in the diary, he did! He got me a job at Hogwarts, a
*paying* job!”

“He—he did?” she asked in wonder. So it had been *Harry* who took Dobby away from her?
*Harry* had set her elf free? But by the look on Dobby's face, she knew that it was for
his own good. Luscious had treated him horribly, and sometimes he would come up to her room, crying
from the pain he had inflicted on him. Hermione used to tend to his wounds with a spare first aid
kit she had always kept in her room and her wand. She would let him stay in her room until the next
morning, when he had to make breakfast. So really, Harry had saved Dobby.

“You have grown up much, Miss Hermione.” Dobby commented in awe.

She smiled, “I see you haven't changed much, Dobby, save for a bit more confidence.”

He nodded, “Dobby is not afraid of anything!”

Hermione giggled and she looked at him seriously for a moment, remembering what she wanted to
ask of him. “Do you mind not telling Harry about how you know me, Dobby?”

Dobby tilted his head to the side, “Why, Miss?”

Hermione bit her lip and spoke in a hushed voice, “I'm just… embarrassed about growing up
with the Malfoy's and want to tell him myself… later. Please, Dobby?”

“Keep a secret from Harry Potter?” he thought for a moment and saw the sad look on
Hermione's face. “Alright, but only if Miss Hermione gives Dobby a pair of socks for
Christmas”

Hermione smiled and nodded, “Of course, Dobby, thank you so much!”

She embraced the elf and pulled back grinning. Dobby spoke up once more, “Why is it that you are
at Hogwarts, Miss Hermione? You were not allowed last time Dobby was around.”

Hermione faltered, “They… they changed their minds after a while, I guess.”

Dobby beamed, “Dobby is glad you are here, Miss Hermione, Dobby missed you!”

“I missed you too, Dobby” she said honestly.

“You want something to drink, miss?” Dobby asked politely, backing away towards where the food
and drinks were stored.

Hermione thought for a moment before she settled on the one thing she knew would calm her
nerves. “Got any firewhisky?”

Dobby frowned, “We is only supposed to use it for special occasions…” Hermione's face fell
and Dobby seemed to consider something for a moment. “But Dobby thinks seeing his Hermione again is
a special occasion.”

Hermione grinned as Dobby pulled out a glass full of Ogden's finest. He poured her a small
glass full and she drowned it quickly, feeling the slight burn as it etched its way down her
throat. She looked up at him with a dark look on her face, “You might want to give me the whole
bottle, Dobby”

“The whole bottle, miss?” he asked, slightly taken aback.

Hermione nodded wordlessly, “It is a *very* special occasion after all.”

Dobby seemed reproachful for a moment before sliding her the whole bottle. Hermione smiled in
thanks and nursed the bottle to her lips, gulping down the sharp tasting liquid. She knew she
should stop, thinking of the hangover she would have in the morning. She was never one to enjoy the
blistering headaches and dizziness. Hermione asked Dobby if he knew someone with a hangover potion
and he replied that he had some left over for his friend, Winky. He said she could borrow the rest
of it and Hermione's resolve flew out the window. She chugged the bottle of firewhisky until
the last drop fell onto her tongue, her last thought being of Harry and Ginny kissing on the
Quidditch pitch. She flinched at the picture and asked for another bottle. Dobby complied
hesitantly, but brought her another one after she insisted.

She was going to have one hell of a morning, but she didn't care.

Harry and Ginny could go fuck themselves.

-->



9. Of Hangover Potions and Snowballs
------------------------------------



**A/N: Sorry about the Lucius mix up! As some of you know, my word processer auto-corrected it…
and if you don't believe that, you can just blame my horrible spelling. But I'm glad you
guys are accepting the URST! I'm glad to hear that you guys like it almost as much as I do.
And, since you love it so much, I put some more in this here chapter =]**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine! I don't want it!!! GAHHHH!!!! …okay, I lied… if
I could, I would soo buy it, but I can't.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Of Hangover Potions and Snowballs**

Dobby was very worried about his friend.

She had been there for a good half an hour, chugging bottles of firewhisky down like a baby
needing its milk. After he had handed her the hangover potion, she had gone absolutely bonkers! He
hadn't bothered to ask how she had acquired such numbness for the strong drink, knowing that it
might disturb her from where she appeared to be deep in thought. Dobby just sat there, watching as
she emptied bottle after bottle, until she was up to about five. He wanted to stop her, he
*should* stop her, but there was this itching feeling that she needed to handle this by
herself. But, he promised himself that if she asked for another bottle, he would refuse. Any more
of that stuff and she could end up in a coma!

He loved his Hermione, worshiped her almost as much as Harry Potter himself. But there came a
time where her best interests had to overshadow her need for alcoholic beverages. If he was
thinking correctly, there were only two people that could make her stop, not including himself. The
first was Harry Potter. He had been so nice and caring to Hermione that Dobby had to go to the side
and jump for joy. She deserved real friends, especially considering her upbringing. Of course, she
had had it better off that Dobby, but her battle with her guardians had been more internal. He
noticed that there was a certain way that Harry looked at Hermione, a sort of high respect. Maybe
that was why she didn't want him to reveal her previous housing? She didn't want to lose
Harry's trust? Well, it was either that or she liked him, generally *liked* him.

*No*, he thought to himself, *Miss Hermione had never liked anyone except for Dobby and
maybe—*

The entrance to the kitchens began to open and Dobby's thoughts were run short. He turned
over to Hermione to see her looking at the entrance with a panicked look on her face. Quickly she
stumbled over to behind one of the counters, hiding. “Dobby, please don't tell anyone I'm
-hic- here!”

The house elf nodded and she curled up behind the small counter. She really needed to get him
*a lot* of socks for all of the things he had, and was going to do for her, that day. She knew
better than to go shopping for the things, though. If she recalled, she had quite a few pairs of
brightly colored socks tucked away in her trunk from—ahem—her missions. They were eye-catching and
she couldn't resist picking a few out from throughout the homes she had visited. It was quite a
low thing to do, but she couldn't care less, they were just socks.

She heard the faint sound of footsteps and stiffened, trying her best not to make any sound. It
was quite hard, seeing as she was pissed out of her mind. In fact, it was a miracle that she had
any say over her actions at all. The only thing that told her she was drunk was her line of vision
switching from in-focus to a blur every few minutes.

“Hello Dobby” a masculine voice said.

She knew that voice… *she* *knew that voice.* But who was it? Damn, of course the
firewhisky chose *now* to interfere with her mind. Was it safe to come out of her hiding
place? Her mind said to stay put, well, either that or it was telling her to spray soot…

Dobby's voice was a mumble and Hermione couldn't tell whose name he spoke. She cursed
her ears and tried to lean to the corner of the counter so she could hear the conversation clearer.
“No, Dobby, that won't be necessary” the stranger spoke. Hermione leaned a little further and
twisted so that she could see the legs of which the voice belonged to. “I was just looking for
something to bring back to the…”

Hermione hadn't realized that she was leaning closer and closer to the conversation. So it
was quite a shock when her body lost its balance and collapsed on the stone floor, sprawling her
for the stranger and Dobby to see. Her head was spinning and she groaned, not really grasping what
was happening anymore. The only thing she was aware of was that no one was talking, and after
comprehending that, she started to panic.

“Well, well, well, *what* do we have here?”

The condescending voice was a dead giveaway. She turned to look up into his grey, piercing eyes
and held back another groan. “Hello -hic- Draco.”

She saw him frown slightly, “You're drunk, aren't you?”

She narrowed her eyes, mostly because her vision was blurring again. “What gives you -hic- that
-hic- idea?”

He raised his eyebrows, “Mia, what happened?”

She decided that now was the time to start to get up. Propping herself on her elbows she lifted
her body into a kneeling position, grabbing the top of the counter to help pry her up onto her pair
of little less than sturdy legs. She slipped a little, but caught herself before she tumbled back
to the ground. “I don't want to -hic- talk about it.”

She saw him make an odd face, opening his mouth to talk again, but she lost balance a second
time and felt her arm propping her up turn to rubber. Lucky for her, Draco had fast reflexes and
caught her by the waist. Hermione made a quiet grumbling sound of protest as he picked her up to
cradle in his arms. She could take care of herself, *thankyouverymuch*! But as she saw the
room begin to spin all thoughts of protest began to slip away.

“I'm going to take you back to your common room, alright?” he said sweetly.

Hermione nodded her head, but found that wasn't the best idea as the room began to spin
again. Deciding it was best to just stay still, she let her body relax into Draco's arms and
heard Dobby calling a faint goodbye as she shut her eyes, thankful that it helped with the
dizziness.

The only thing she was aware of was of her body moving slightly up and down with Draco's
steps. She started to get used to the pattern and felt her body begin to drift into a sleeping
state of mind. Tired, she was very, very tired. Just as her mind began to slip into
unconsciousness, he stopped. Hermione shifted slightly. They couldn't be there yet, it had only
been a few minutes—at least, that's what it felt like. Hermione forced herself to open her eyes
to find that she was looking at the wall of a corridor, and not the corridor that was near her
common room.

She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong when she heard footsteps coming from the other side
of the hallway. Hermione remained quiet and looked up at Draco, who seemed as though he was making
up his mind about something. And if she knew him, the end result wasn't going to be pretty.
Then, proving her suspicions correct, she saw the wall moving downward and the stiff feeling of a
floor come into contact with her back.

Draco leaned down with a painful look in his eyes, “You'll thank me for this. I'm
sorry.”

She didn't quite register what he meant, but before she could ask, he was gone. Hermione let
her mind process for a moment, thankful that she could still think. Her other senses were gone and
she needed to milk this last one for all it's got. The conclusion wasn't pretty. He had
left her there alone in the corridor! *The bastard! When I find him, he's going to be sorry
he was born, the slimy git! If he ever comes near me again I'm going to—*

“Hermione?!”

She was surprised that she could make out her name. The voice was chopped and she had to resort
to opening her eyes again to see a burred face looking down at her. From what she could make out,
he had dark hair and… and very brightly colored eyes. She knew him, too! But who was he, Damnit?!
She groaned as she tried to think of the name. It rhymed with fairy… berry… Carrie…

“What happened to you?” the concerned voice spoke again.

The concern gave it away and she felt her stomach twist, “Harry?”

She saw him nod as his face came into view. How could she not remember Harry? “Yeah… and if you
don't mind me asking… what are you doing lying in the middle of an empty corridor? You
haven't been hurt or anything, have you?”

Hermione shook her head, “No I -hic- haven't.”

She saw Harry's face relax, but then return to one of concern again as she let herself let
out another hiccup. “You're drunk?”

For some reason, she found that *really* funny and she giggled. “Yeahhhhhhh”

“Hermione, why did you—you know what, never mind. I'm just going to take you up to
Gryffindor Tower, alright?”

“Okie dokie artachokie!” She felt herself being lifted again and she let out a “Weeeeee!”

Harry sighed as began to walk them up the few flights of stairs that lead to the common room.
Hermione kept on squirming in his arms and he tried his best not to drop her. He had only gone down
to the kitchen to get drinks for the victory party and instead found a tipsy Hermione. Ron was
going to kill him, not to mention the rest of the tower, who was counting on him for drinks.
*But*, he thought to himself lightly, *I think Hermione has drunk enough for the lot of
us.*

When they arrived at the tower, he spoke the password and ignored the Fat Lady's spiteful
gaze. Hermione heard a loud commotion as they entered the portrait hole and asked, “Is there a
partyyy? I really *love* parties!”

“No party for you, Hermione. You're going straight to bed.” But it was then he realized that
he couldn't get Hermione to bed, and he didn't want to bother Ginny. Making up his mind, he
pushed his way through the crowded room and made his way to the stairs that lead to the boy's
dormitory.

“Hey Harry, where's the d—what's wrong with Hermione?” Ron called from his place
standing on top of the couch. Harry chose to ignore him and pressed on, finally reaching the
stairs. But before he could start to ascend him, Ginny popped up into his vision with a wide grin
on her face.

“Hey Harry!” She glanced down to the bundle in his arms and her grin faded, turning to a look of
worry. “Oh Merlin, what's wrong with her?”

“Nothing!” Harry said quickly.

Hermione chose then to tilt up her head and smile as she saw her friend staring at her. “Hi-lo
G'nny, how are you doing this fine evening?”

Ginny's eyes widened and she looked at Harry with an alarmed look on her face, “She's
*drunk*?!”

“Shh, it's a secret!” Hermione said, giggling as she put a finger over her lips.

“What—how you did… when did you… what *happened*?!” Ginny asked in a flurry.

Harry looked around for a moment before answering in a hushed tone, “I found her alone in the
second floor corridor, lying on the ground. I… I didn't know what to do so I brought her
here.”

Ginny looked taken aback for a moment before changing her look to one of sympathy, “The poor
thing… do you want me to levitate her to her dorm?”

“No, it's alright, I was going to take her up to mine… more private, you know? I don't
think that she'd want a bunch of girls questioning her in the morning.” he explained
feebly.

Ginny narrowed her brow, “Are you sure? I could just—”

“Yeah, I'm sure, Gin. I'll be right back.” He said with a small smile. He didn't
wait for her to reply as he continued up the stairs, not catching the sour look on her face as she
stared after him and the girl in his arms.

He reached the seventh year dorms to find it unsurprisingly empty. Harry made his way over to
his canopy and set her down gently. His arms were loosely wrapped around her as he released her
onto the soft covers. He removed them and Hermione shivered as his brushed against her sides. She
covered it up coolly and looked at him with glossy eyes. “Where'd the -hic- party go?”

“It umm… it left, too much fun with you there that they all tired themselves out.” He tried.

She giggled again and he sighed in relief, “Too bad, soooo sad. But it' okay… because I
have…” she lifted her finger to tap his nose lightly, “you to keep me company.”

“Uhh, actually I was going to get back to the…” he trailed off, as Hermione puffed out her
bottom lip and shook her head. “…party?”

“I don't want you to go” She said softly, “I want you to stay right here!”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but she silenced him by pulling him by his collar to
lie next to her. He faced her with his mouth agape. He could feel her warm breath on his face, and
he flinched when he caught the scent of firewhisky in her breath. “Hermione I… I have to get back
to the party.”

“Why?” she asked, a tiny whine present in her tone.

“Because…” she leaned forward and his breath caught, “Because I…” She was barely an inch away
from him and he felt his eyes begin to drift close in anticipation. When he felt nothing but the
air bushing against his lips, his eyes drifted open to see Hermione lying unconscious beside
him.

~*~

Chirping was heard outside of the windows and Hermione groaned as the high-pitched noises.
*Damn birds!*

She let her eyes drift open and closed them immediately as the sun burned her eyes. Gods, how
she hated hangovers! The only good part of drinking was the part you couldn't remember, and the
part you *can* remember is the most painful. The last think she could recall was being carried
down a corridor by… Draco. Yes, that was it. Draco had found her in the kitchens and brought her to
her dormitory. He could be a sweetheart, sometimes. But, of course, him being a prick always
overshadowed that more times than not.

Hermione remembered Dobby giving her a hangover potion and reached into her pocket to grab it.
However, when she groped around for the small vile, she found nothing but an empty pocket. Her eyes
widened as she checked the remaining pockets for the potion and began to panic. She couldn't
find it! Hermione twisted her neck around frantically, checking around her dorm. On her bedside
table she found a small piece of parchment and picked it up.

It read: *Hermione, I found this on the bed before I* *left; I think you might need it.
-Harry*

Hermione lowered the note to see the vial of hangover potion atop her desk. But before she could
let relief wash over her, she re-read the note. Before he left… but that must mean… *OH MY GOD I
SLEPT WITH HARRY**?**!*

She automatically groped for her clothes to find them highly disheveled and she let her panic
rise to the full capacity. How could she have *done* that?! She didn't even—okay, she
liked him, but that was beside the point! She slept wither her fri—her target! Oh Merlin, what was
she going to do now?! She had single-handedly sabotaged her mission!

Hermione heard the door creak open and she lay back down in her bed, feigning sleep. Footsteps
approached her and she put the potion back on the nightstand, trying to remain still. The footsteps
stopped right in front of her and she heard a soft whisper, “Hermione, are you awake yet?”

She allowed her eyes to flicker open and Harry' face came into view. Her heart leapt in her
throat as she saw him smile at her. She propped herself on her elbows and stared at him, not really
knowing what to say. Thankfully, he spoke up again, “You going to drink that?” He motioned to the
potion and she nodded numbly.

Hangover potions were really a miracle. The sweet liquid slid down her throat and she sighed as
she felt the symptoms dissipate. Glancing back up at Harry, she let her inhibitions fall as she
opened her mouth to speak in a raspy voice, “I'm sorry about last night.”

“That's alright, we all make mistakes.” He said, looking at her with a strange shine in his
eyes.

“Mistakes… right…” Hermione mumbled. “I don't really remember much”

Harry nodded, “I figured as much.”

“What happened?” she asked shakily, not knowing whether or not she wanted to hear the
answer.

He took a seat on the bed and started to explain, “I found you in the second floor corridor, you
were pissed and so I brought you up to my dorm.”

Hermione looked around the room to discover he was right, this wasn't her dorm. She was
puzzled for a moment before regaining herself and asking the question she was most anxious to
answer, “You mean, nothing else happened after that?”

Harry shook his head, “Not really, no.”

Hermione let a breath of relief out. She didn't sleep with him! Her body slumped against the
covers and she let herself relax. Harry noticed her stance and smiled. She saw him out of the
corner of her eye and turned to look at him, “What?”

“Well I was just wondering if you felt good enough to go outside?” he asked innocently.

Hermione narrowed her eyebrows, “Why?”

He shrugged, “No reason, it's the first snow of the year and I wanted you to see it…”

“S-snow?” she asked shakily. She threw off the covers and scrambled to the window, seeing the
blankets of white powder covering the grounds. Her blood ran cold and she turned back to Harry, who
was openly laughing at her. “You think it's *funny*?”

“Yeah, pretty much”

Hermione reached for a pillow behind him and smacked him over the head. He let out an audible
“Oomph” as it collided with his skull and he looked up at her incredulously. She just smirked and
tilted her head to the side in warning.

He stood up and faced her, towering over her petit for by a good few inches. “Get your jacket
on, we're going outside.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, “Make me”

“Fine” He raised his wand hand and flicked it in the air. Hermione looked at him oddly until a
coat flew into his hand, *her* coat.

Hermione stared at him in awe, “How did you…”

“Shh” he said, putting a finer over his lips, “It's a secret.”

Something about that phrase struck a nerve in her, almost as if she had said it before. Hermione
immediately banished the thought. She would never say something so… so childish! She was too busy
thinking about why the phrase got a reaction out of her that when she felt the jacket being placed
on her shoulders, she flinched. She craned her neck to see Harry adjusting it before pulling away
and facing her again. She slipped her arms through and he smiled, making a beckoning motion with
his hand.

Hermione harrumphed and followed behind him, not really knowing why. She knew where he was
leading her, so why was she still trailing after him? Snow was freezing cold and here she was
without the proper attire, save a single coat. She was risking catching a cold, or worse,
pneumonia!

Harry seemed to sense her hesitation and turned around to grab her hand. The friction was
instant, working its way from her fingers to her toes, the familiar feeling of a lightning strike
awakening her senses. Harry seemed unaware of her reaction as he lead her to the entrance hall in a
hurried pace. One might almost think he were late for something. No, this was a spur-of-the-moment
thing… wasn't it?

He let go of her hand and opened the door with a push, the cool breeze hitting Hermione like a
ton of ice cubes to the face. She shivered and stepped back, attempting to make a run for it. Harry
smiled at her mockingly as he grabbed her hand once more, dragging her out of the warmth of
Hogwarts. “This isn't fair!” she screamed.

“Life isn't fair” he replied shortly.

“You'll pay for this Harry… Harry… I don't know your middle name.” She trailed off.

He glanced back at her with a small smile, “Its James.”

“Right” she said briefly, “Harry *James* Potter, you'll regret the day you ever forced
me into the snow.”

“Well at least I won't go down alone” he said, coming to a stop in an open part of the
grounds, near the black lake.

He let go of her hand and she stared at him with a confused gaze, “What do you mean?”

He just smirked and she felt herself becoming worried. Something wasn't right. Something was
going to happen. She was in danger, she could sense it. She turned around; trying to observe her
surroundings, but her vision was blocked when a snowball hit her square in the face. The freezing
sphere melted down her face in droplets and she gasped. Wiping the residue from her face, she saw
two figures coming towards her, both with flaming red hair.

“What is the meaning of this?!” she screeched at the three laughing teenagers.

“We told you that we needed to train you” Ginny said simply.

“But… but… *now*?” she asked.

“No time like the present” Harry said, forming another snowball in his palms.

“I have no idea how to make a snowball, let alone throw them!” she exclaimed.

“That's why we're here” Ron said with a nod. “To turn you into the best snowball fighter
the Burrow has ever seen!”

“Right…” Hermione said uncertainly. “Good luck with that.”

Harry took a step towards her, “You're going to need all the help you can get and we are
going to help you. What would you rather do: Get pummeled by a dozen Weasley's because of lack
of experience or barely get wet at all and always being able to hit your target?”

“None of the above, I would stay in the house and read a good book.” She said, crossing her
arms.

Ginny shook her head, “Wrong answer, Herms.”

Hermione groaned and took a quick look around, not quite sure what she was checking for. When
she turned her attention back to them she decided to give up, “Fine, fine. I choose the second
one.”

“Excellent” the three said simultaneously.

“Okay, *that* was a little creepy.” Hermione said honestly.

“You'll get used to it” Ron said with a certainty in his voice.

Hermione gulped and watched as Harry walked up to her. He bent over and picked up a handful of
snow, placing it in her bare hands. She shivered and looked at him. “Now, round it with your
palms.” He instructed.

She tried to do what he said, but found that she failed miserably, crushing the snow and sending
it to the ground. Ginny giggled and Ron bit his lip to keep from laughing. Harry simply sighed,
“This is going to be a long afternoon.”

Hermione gave him a small, apologetic smile. Harry gave her another handful of snow and told her
to try again. She didn't get it that time, or the time after that. But, by the fourth try, she
got the snow to form into a lumpy ball and grinned up at Harry who smiled in return.

“Now, I want you to aim for Ron.” He said.

Hermione gave him an odd look, “You want me to hit him?”

He nodded, “Yeah, that's the basic idea. Don't worry, he can take it.”

Ron grinned over at them, flexing his muscles, “I'm a big, strong man!”

They all laughed at him and Hermione threw the snowball, missing by only a few inches. “Damnit!”
she cursed. She made a second snowball and tried again, this going clear over his head. Without
waiting for another instruction, she angrily made another snowball and threw it at him with a
strong force. It hit Ron square in the chest and she smiled victoriously, panting slightly.

“Well, now we know to get you all riled up before the fight.” Ginny said jokingly.

Hermione laughed half-heartedly and turned to Harry. He looked at her with a small glint in his
eyes, “Are you ready for a practice round?”

Hermione thought for a moment, “I don't know”

“Well from what I've seen, you need a few minutes to get into it, so let's give it a go,
alright? We'll split up into teams so we have equal chance of winning.”

Hermione nodded, glad that she wouldn't have to depend on just herself so early in her
learning. Ginny ran over to Harry's side and her confidence fell, a frown forming on her lips.
She walked over to Ron, trying to cover up her disappointment. She saw Harry and Ginny speaking in
hushed tones and her blood began to boil. Ginny pecked him on the lips and she almost lost it.
Harry turned over to them, hand around Ginny's waist lazily, and asked, “You guys ready.”

“Yeah” Ron spoke on behalf of them.

“Oh yes” Hermione said through clenched teeth.

Ron looked over at her, “Are you alright?”

Hermione looked over with a sharp gaze, “Never better”

Ron seemed to take that as a legible answer and began to form a snowball. Hermione turned back
over to Harry and Ginny and pounded snow together tensely, her jaw clenching.

“Ready… set… go!”

Hermione launched a snowball and hit Ginny square in the face, knocking her a few steps
backwards. She smirked and launched one at Harry, but he dodged it easily. She quickly hid behind a
nearby tree and gathered up more snow, trying to pick the best moment to emerge. She glanced around
one side of the tree to see Ginny and Ron charging at each other with armfuls of snowballs and
furrowed her brow. Where was Harry? No sooner did that thought cross her mind that a snowball had
been crushed over her head. Hermione spun around and crushed the snowball in her arms atop the
intruders head. He looked up at her and Hermione saw piercing emeralds staring at her. Her anger
escalated, the scene before they began with him and Ginny replaying in her head. Grabbing another
glob of snow, she threw it at his face and scrambled towards the clear patch of land.

She could hear Harry following her and picked up her speed. She knew that she had no time to
pick up more snow so she was relying on her feet to carry her to safety. Unfortunately, she forgot
to count the fact that it was open grounds and the nearest place of shelter was the castle.

Hermione felt arms snake around her waist to try and stop her. But by cause of the speed at
which they were running, the two of them fell over. Hermione ended up on top of Harry and shifted
uncomfortably. She made a move to get up when an idea struck her. Reaching to the side, she grabbed
a handful of snow and pushed it onto his face, rubbing it in before flicking the excess off. Harry
stared at her with an aghast look on his face as she smirked in victory.

Her victory was short-lived, however, as Harry used his strength to flip them over, hovering
over her with a smirk to match her own moments ago. She was staring at him in shock as he grabbed a
handful of snow and rubbed it in her face. She didn't know why, but at that moment she began
laughing. Harry looked at her oddly before chuckling a little to himself. But, their laughter faded
as they both realized what position they were in. They stared at each other, not really knowing
what to do when they heard someone clear their throat. Both of their heads snapped up to see Ginny
crossing her arms and tapping her foot, looking at them with narrowed eyes.

They both scrambled off of each other and stood to face the suspicious-looking Ginny. She tilted
her head to the side and asked, “What's going on here?”

“We were just playing, Ginny” Harry explained.

Hermione nodded in agreement and Ginny kept her stance, “Yeah right, *just playing*… and
Ron's an anorexic super genius.”

“HEY!” Ron yelled from a few feet away.

“Ginny, nothing was going on, it's not as though we were shagging in the snow!” Harry
exclaimed, a slightly mocking tone to his voice.

“You were close enough.” Ginny said hotly.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Ginny stormed off, Harry chasing after her like a lost
puppy, calling her name as if his life depended on it. Hermione felt her eyes fill with something…
as though water was being accumulated in her pupils. She was going to cry. She had never really
cried before. A tear or two when she got a bit over-emotional, but she didn't count that as
crying. She wiped her eyes before any tears could fall and walked to the school, sniffing. The cool
breeze blew across her face and made her eyes tear up once more. She didn't wipe them this time
as she made her way to the castle. It was safe to say that her day was ruined.

She blamed the snow.

-->



10. Christmas At The Burrow
---------------------------



**A/N: WARNING SHORT CHAPTER AHEAD!!!!! I'm sorry that it's so close to the deadline
again guys, but I got distracted with life again *cowers*. I promise I'll make up for it
eventually. Many of you have been hinting at a double whammy of chapters in a week and I might just
do that to make you guys love me** **again****… would it work?** **Please try to enjoy the
chapter, even if it is a good 1,000 words shorter than what I usually write. Plus, I think
you'll like the little “foreshadowing hint” I left at the end of the chapter. And, you will be
happy to know, that I had to read some** **HOT** **NC-17 fanficion in order to resist**
**getting them together. So, I'm on the verge of cracking =]**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine… he's Hermione's ;)**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Christmas at the Burrow**

It was rather unfortunate that the snow was still coming down heavily, even after three weeks.
It was rather reflecting Hermione's mood: unchanged and melancholy. Yes, melancholy. She had
finally come up with a suitable word that was both neutral and becoming. She had ruled out
depressed and pessimistic, and even apathetic. Harry Potter did *not* make her apathetic.

The “snowball training” had been going on vigorously as well throughout those few weeks and each
time Hermione found herself becoming more and more easier to anger. One could only take so much of
Harry and Ginny. Harry and Ginny and their… touching. Really, why did couples insist on having to
touch each other every single moment they were within a foot of each other? Didn't they enjoy
even a little bit of elbow room once in awhile? Did they have to do it in public? Honestly, there
were at least twenty broom cupboards throughout Hogwarts that weren't put there for just
storage and they should do well to take advantage of that!

She tried her best not to avoid him altogether, save herself from feeling anything whatsoever
towards him. But, of course, that nagging voice in the back of her head telling her that if she did
that the mission would be ruined overpowered her greater judgment. So, after a rather tiring
internal battle, she forced herself to be his friend, despite what he was doing to her. It took a
lot of her self control not to scream from the tension she was creating between them. But, she
figured, it would all go away… eventually. It always went away after a while.

It was December 20, the day they were scheduled to leave for The Burrow. Hermione was finishing
up packing the last of her clothing with a wave of her wand and after they were finished folding
themselves into her trunk, it shut with a quiet click. Sighing, she picked up the handle and let
the small wheels pop out, allowing her to lug it down the stairs into the common room, where they
had all agreed to meet before boarding the train.

She sat down on the sofa and propped her trunk next to her, staring into the flames with vague
interest. She was still iffy about going there, nervous about meeting the Weasley family. Hermione
didn't consider herself to be a people person; she was more of an
“I'll-be-civil-to-you-only-up-until-I-kill-you” person. Being raised with limited social access
had many disadvantages that the average person wouldn't think twice about, especially when you
were raised by Death Eaters. But hey, it was who she was, and she couldn't change that.

Consumed in her thoughts, she failed to hear someone approach her. Only when they spoke up did
she comprehend their presence. “Are you nervous?”

She looked over at the familiar voice slowly, “A little, but I'm not the most social person
around so it's nothing new.”

Harry nodded, “Well I'm sure you'll be fine.”

“Tell that to my stomach. I feel like I'm going to regurgitate breakfast.” She said, letting
her face contort to accentuate her statement.

“Don't they have potions for that?” He asked, somewhat amused.

She pursed her lips, “Yes, well we're leaving soon and I'm sure that we don't have
time for a quick trip to the hospital wing.”

“Never stopped me”

“Yes, well you're you and I'm lazy.” She said with a small smile, “I'd rather sit
here on this comfy couch, soaking up the heat then brave the chilled hallways.”

“The hallways may be chilled but we could always run.” He said in a sing-song voice.

She raised an eyebrow at him, “Not the best way to win the agreement of a sloth.”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Never said I was smooth.”

She smiled and turned back to the fire, thankful that the nausea was wearing off. The Burrow had
better be worth it if she was going to have to deal with *this*.

Harry remained silent beside her but she could sense—how, she didn't know—that he wanted to
say something. She prepared herself for another smart comment, or even a humorous icebreaker,
trying to come up with a response to anything she thought he might say. But, her attempts and his
chance at breaking the silence were squashed when footsteps bounded down the stone stair behind
them. They both turned around quickly and saw Ron looking at them with a wolfish grin.

“So, who's ready to go to the train?”

Hermione was about to say that they still had to wait for Ginny when she bounced up from behind
him. She found that their timing rather made her uncomfortable than amused. Harry and Hermione both
nodded after a moment and the four of them made their journey to Hogsmeade Station.

The train was already filling with students by the time they arrived. The snow was blowing fast
past their faces and Hermione felt her eyes moisten and breathing constrict. People who enjoyed
this must have a medical condition or else they'd be dead by now. If that was true, the whole
population of Hogwarts students going home must have some sort of contagious disease because every
last one of them was smiling and acting as though it was 80 degrees out.

Hermione stepped onto the train as the wind picked up even more and took a long gasp of clean
air when felt the waft of a warm breeze blow onto her face. No one seemed to notice her reaction
and for that she was thankful. The last thing she needed was another group effort to try and get
her to warm up to the snow.

They eventually found a compartment and each took a seat on the cushy benches. Harry had elected
to sit next to Ginny and Hermione was left to sit next to Ron. It was odd, not to have Harry close
to her, as they had been for the past few weeks. She couldn't decide if it was a good thing or
a bad thing. But, as Harry's arm rose to wrap around Ginny's petit waist, it was decided.
It was a *very* bad thing. And the worst part was that they were right in front of her, so she
had a first row seat to the Harry and Ginny Show. Perfect. There was only one way to make this all
go away, even for a little while. She shut her eyes. It was childish, but effective. If they asked,
she didn't get much sleep last night.

The conversations that she picked up were all of building excitement and Ron yelling at Harry
and Ginny to get a room. Hermione was thankful that her eyes were closed or else she might have
glared the two of them into an early grave. Oh, how she detested train rides.

~*~

The next thing she knew, she was being shaken in consciousness by a strong hand. Her eyes
drifted open lazily and she let her vision adjust to the dim lighting of the compartment, the
blurred images coming into focus slowly. She tilted her head to the side to see Ron looking at her
with a smile. Holding back a groan she lifted herself up to a sitting position and yawned. She
chanced a glance out the window to see the train coming to a stop in front of the familiar
platform.

Hermione thought that she would only see this place once more and be done with it. Too many
families, too small of a stomach. But, under the promising circumstances, she figured that two more
times couldn't be so bad. After all, it was her first Christmas away from a dingy mansion, she
should be happy for a change of scenery.

She felt an odd sensation in the back of her head and tensed up; someone was watching her.
Twisting her neck a few inches to the side she saw the familiar bright green orbs come into contact
with hers and she felt her stomach twist up. In all actuality, she was rather surprised she
hadn't becoming numb to this feeling by now. Back when she and Draco had first begun to…
mature… there had been a small aching in her lower region every time she thought about him. But,
after time, it went away, she got used to it. Why wasn't this feeling any different? What did
he have that Draco didn't already have? Draco already had that bad boy persona down, so that
couldn't be it. They were both charming, had piercing eyes… so what was it that made Harry so
damn different?!

Her thoughts were run short as the train came to a stop. Hermione and Harry's eyes quickly
averted each other as they grabbed their trunks and made their way to the platform. Hermione
didn't know what to look for, as she had only seen Mrs. Weasley once before. But, it wasn't
hard to spot the fiery red hair among the crowd once Ron and Ginny went sprinting to their mother.
Harry smiled at the two of them and Hermione stared in fascination as the older woman enveloped her
children in a warm embrace. Her trance was put away, though, as the woman looked at her and
smiled.

“You must be Hermione; it's wonderful to meet you, dear.” She said kindly, reaching out and
giving her a loose hug. Hermione was in shock for a moment, but tried her best to return the hug.
Pulling back Hermione smiled at the older woman and stepped back a few feet. “I can't tell you
how anxious I've been to finally meet you! Ron and Ginny have told me so much about you, and
I'm *sure* you'll enjoy your holiday at The Burrow.”

“I look forward to it.” Hermione said genuinely.

Mrs. Weasley nodded and caught sight of Harry. The woman practically knocked him over with the
force of her hug, letting a single statement of “Harry, dear!” emit from her lips. Hermione
didn't know whether to be amused or concerned. But, when she let him go, Hermione let out a
breath and a small chuckle out of her throat.

They all walked to a secluded corner towards the back of the station as Mrs. Weasley pulled an
old record out of her knitted bag. Hermione glanced at the label and saw “Celestina Warbeck: A
Cauldron of Hot, Strong Love” printed in bold letters. She had never heard of the singer before and
was curious as to why Mrs. Weasley pulled out one of her records out of her bag. But, her questions
were put to rest as Ron, Ginny, and Harry all put their hands onto the record. Hermione quickly
placed her hand atop it as well and in a few moments felt the familiar tug of a Portkey in her
stomach.

In what felt like a second they all landed in a heap and Hermione felt the snow begin to melt on
her face. Her jaw clenched as she got up and brushed the snow from off of her jacket and pants.
Glancing upward, her hands stopped at she caught sight of a building that looked as though it was
about to tip over. The only way it could remain standing was if it was held up by magic. It was
covered in blinking Christmas lights and wreaths, all hung at random angles. Popcorn and what
looked to be old boots painted red green, and silver aligned the trees. There seemed to be a
chicken coop to one side of the house and odd items scattered around the lawn, all covered by the
large blanket of snow. In front of it all was a lopsided sign that read “The Burrow”.

The others were already making their way inside and Hermione had to take long strides to keep up
with them. Thankful to be out of the snow, she entered the house quickly and found herself in the
kitchen, where pots and pans were washing themselves in the sink. It wasn't anything she
hadn't seen before, but she certainly hadn't seen such a cluttered kitchen. It was small
and looked as though it was going to burst with the amount of clutter that was inside of it. Harry
and Ron had disappeared and the three women were left in the kitchen alone. Mrs. Weasley smiled
again and turned to face Hermione. “My home is your home. Please, let Ginny show you to her room.
You'll be sharing, if that's alright?”

“Oh, of course” Hermione lied.

Mrs. Weasley smiled and she followed Ginny up a single flight of stairs. There seemed to be
three rooms on this floor and Ginny led her to the first door. When she entered the room she looked
around in interest. It was a small room, big enough for Ginny's bed and a small mattress on the
floor she assumed was for her. Pressed against the wall was a desk in front of a window and a small
closed that looked to be erupting with clothes. The walls were brightly painted with pink, yellow,
and orange and aligned with posters of popular wizard bands and newspaper clippings from what
Hermione assumed to be *W**itch Weekly.* Next to Ginny's bed was a small table
covered with photographs and various pieces of jewelry that looked to be very expensive.

Hermione tossed her trunk next to her mattress on the floor and turned to where Ginny was
sitting on her bed, fondling one of her pillows. “Where's the bathroom?”

Ginny nodded to the door, “Second door to the left.”

Hermione followed her instructions and entered a small bathroom, various items scattered
throughout the counter and any space that was capable of holding something. Hermione sensed a
pattern and assumed that the whole house was like this: small and cluttered. She had never been
claustrophobic but felt that these were the types of things that could set someone who was off.
Sighing, she lifted the seat of the toilet and took a seat, burying her face in her hands. This was
going to be a very interesting holiday. Sharing a room with Ginny, being in such close proximity
with Harry, the bloody snow… this was shaping up to be her most miserable Christmas yet, and they
haven't even hosted a party yet.

A knock at the door interrupted the silence and Hermione called “Occupied!”

“Mum wants me to tell you dinner's ready in five minutes.” Ginny's voice sounded from
the other side of the door.

Hermione quickly flushed the toilet and washed her hands, accidently knocking down a bottle of
Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. She promptly put it back and stepped out of the bathroom,
unconsciously drying her hands on her trousers. Looking both ways down the narrow hallway, she
noticed that Ginny didn't wait up for her like she normally did and sighed. At least she
wasn't the only one who felt that the situation was awkward.

She made her way down the stairs at a brisk pace and entered the kitchen again to see everyone
already sitting down at one side of the table in a bundle. She took a seat next to Ron and smiled
politely at everyone. As soon as she adjusted her position, the waft of food come into her nostrils
and she moaned inwardly, remembering what Harry had said about Mrs. Weasley's cooking. The food
floated onto the middle of the table and her mouth watered at the sight of mashed potatoes,
chicken, peas, carrots, bread and marmalade, and salad. It was like she was cooking for an
army!

Loading her plate with a little bit of everything, she tried to control herself from stuffing
her face. Starting with the mashed potatoes, she braced herself and her eyes widened as she let the
food soak into her taste buds. It was unlike anything she had ever eaten. Harry was right, it was
*way* better than Hogwarts's food! She chanced a glance over at him to see him smiling at
her with an “I-told-you-so” look on his face.

“Fred and George will be arriving tomorrow,” Mrs. Weasley spoke up. “Bill and Fleur in a week
and Charlie along with them. The whole family, can you remember the last time that happened?”

“The wedding?” Ron asked.

“Yes, that must be it, over a year ago!” Mrs. Weasley mused.

Hermione looked questioningly at Harry and he whispered, “Bill got married last year.”

Hermione nodded in understanding and turned back to Mrs. Weasley, who was in a conversation with
Ron about Fred and George's latest escapades. Hermione remembered Harry telling her about how
they owned a joke shop in Diagon Ally and listened intently to their conversation, eager to hear
the description of one of their products.

“They told me that they invented some weird mistletoe thing in spirit of the holidays and were
going to bring it here to test out.” Ron explained.

Mrs. Weasley looked concerned, “And what exactly does this mistletoe do?”

“Well… Fred told me that it works like the Muggle one, but then George added that it won't
let you escape until you kiss. But, they both said that it only affects people who are soul mates.
Don't quite know what that means but it sounds wicked!” Ron said with wide grin on his
face.

“A soul mate is someone who was meant only for you, Ron, like you were both destined to be with
each other. Remember that whole speech Trelawney gave us in sixth year during Divination?” Harry
said, answering Ron's hidden question.

“Oh yeah… so that was what she was on about? I thought she was talking about becoming friends
with ghosts…”

Everyone at the table laughed, Mrs. Weasley included. Hermione rather liked this invention of
Fred and George's, as it wouldn't affect her in the least. She was positive that soul mates
didn't exist. Besides, it wasn't as if she would be caught dead under one of those things!
She had more common sense than that.

“That' so *romantic*!” Ginny gushed, clinging onto Harry's arm.

Hermione glared over at Ginny and spit, “It's pointless”

Ginny looked over at Hermione with a surprised look on her face, turning to one of annoyance.
“What's pointless?”

“Soul mates” Hermione said simply, “They don't exist.”

The room went silent and Hermione couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. Then, much to
everyone's surprise, Harry spoke up, “You don't believe in soul mates?”

Hermione looked over at him with a numb look on her face, “No”

“Well what about true love?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“What's true love?” Hermione asked incredulously.

Harry looked at her oddly, his face softening. “True love is the soul's recognition of its
counterpoint in another.”

She was floored. Harry stared at her, not anticipating an answer, but making Hermione feel as if
he was bearing into her soul. *Could* someone do that with just a look?

Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry fondly, “That was beautiful, Harry.”

He smiled at her, breaking their gaze from each other. Hermione excused herself and made her way
into the living room, feeling faint. What the hell was he doing to her?! He was turning into a pile
of slop, that's what he was doing! The bloody prat was messing with her emotions and making
her… she didn't even know how to describe it! All she knew is that she didn't like it, not
one bit.

“Are you alright, dear?” Mrs. Weasley's kind voice said from beside her.

Hermione looked into the woman's warm eyes, “Yeah, I'm fine. Just feeling under the
weather is all.”

“Well, I brought you some dessert. Pumpkin pie drizzled with whipped cream and cinnamon.” She
handed her the plate and Hermione smiled in thanks.

“Dinner was amazing, Mrs. Weasley, really. Harry was right when he said you were the best cook
he'd ever met.”

Mrs. Weasley blushed, “Oh hush dear, it's nothing. Please, eat your pie and feel better,
alright? And if you need anything, anything at all, don't be hesitant to talk.”

Hermione nodded, “I won't”

She gave her a pat on the shoulder and got up, making her way back to the kitchen. Hermione
looked down at the pie and was about to take a bite when she heard voices coming towards her.
Deciding it would be better to eat up in Ginny's room, she quickly ascended the stairs and
closed the door behind her. She walked up to Ginny's bed and sat on the plump mattress, letting
her eyes flicker to the pictures that she noticed earlier.

Picking up one in a silver frame, she saw Ginny and two other girls in her year by the
greenhouses waving and smiling. Putting that one down she picked up another, this one in a golden
wired frame, it was of Ginny, Harry, and Ron. They looked no older than twelve in the picture and
were all outside of the Hogwarts express. She noticed that the clothes on Harry's back seemed
to be at least five sizes too big for him and wondered vaguely how that was even possible for such
a skinny young boy. Ginny looked so innocent, with her long wavy red hair, pale skin covered in
freckles, and knobby knees. Ron still looked the same, slightly taller than Harry and too lanky for
his own good.

The last frame, a pink one covered in red hearts was one of Harry and Ginny on the common room
sofa, arms wrapped around each other and smiling widely. Hermione felt an angry tug in her chest
and whipped the picture across the room, shattering the glass and cracking the wooden frame.
Breathing heavily, Hermione looked down at the picture and went over to pick it up, muttering
“Repairo” tensely under her breath to fix it. The couple in the photograph was looking up at her
with fear and Hermione frowned at them. She had forgotten that some photographs could feel when
they were being shaken up. She put the picture back on the bedside table and sighed, running her
fingers through her hair. If only there was an answer to her problems that was easy to access.

She glanced back down and took a bite of her pumpkin pie, relishing in its sweet taste. For now,
pumpkin pie would be her answer. Lots and lots of pumpkin pie.

-->



11. Authors Note/Apology
------------------------

Hey guys!

No, this is not and early chapter… I just want to write this to say that I am not going to be
able to write the chapter by this Sunday. No need to form a mob, though!! I **will** have it
done by Monday or Tuesday and still have the regular update next Sunday. So please find it in your
kind hearts to not hate me! I promise that I’ll make it up to you =]

Love, Shar



12. Double Trouble
------------------



**A/N: I know, a full four days late! But, I still finished it and am going to have another
update this Sunday. So technically, it's two chapters in one week. *wink* I would like to thank
you all for being so understanding! Seriously, I was convinced I would die if I didn't post the
chapter on Sunday and you guys really surprised me by being so cool about it. Really, it means a
whole lot! Now, onto the chapter, shall we?**

**Disclaimer: Seriously, really? I'm not even out of high school yet… Harry Potter is**
**not** **mine.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Double Trouble**

Hermione woke up lying on her mattress the next morning, a plate filled with only crumbs of the
pumpkin pie she had devoured last night laying next to her. Glancing around the room, she noticed
that Ginny was still sound asleep and looked at the clock mounted on her wall. It was a little past
eight in the morning. Sighing, Hermione lifted herself off of the floor and stretched, her back
making a cracking sound. She made her way to the bathroom, trying hard not to wake Ginny and being
forced to face her. Having Ginny glare her into an early death wasn't on the top of her to-do
list for the morning. Even evil geniuses needed to be awake in order to deal with peppy
16-year-olds.

After she was finished preparing herself for the day about a half an hour later, she braved
walking into the room again to see Ginny wide-awake and sitting at her desk, writing something down
in what looked like a journal. Hermione did her best to stay quiet as she set down her pajamas,
standing on the balls of her feet until finally dropping down atop her mattress. The only sound in
the room was that of a quill scratching against parchment and it was deafening. Hermione found
herself missing the small conversation they had not so long ago. But, as far as she could tell, she
was going to be deprived of those for a while, so she might as well suck it up and get over it.
That method worked countless times before, so why not now?

Hermione glanced over at Ginny and knew why not: Because she cared. For once in her life, she
had developed fondness for people other than herself and maybe Draco. She wasn't fond of her
fellow Death Eaters, for she was convinced that their heads were filled with nothing but sawdust.
She wasn't fond of the Malfoy's; they had made her childhood miserable. Even a small part
of her knew that she wasn't fond of the Dark Lord. He was like her father, so she felt nothing
but a strange connection that had nothing to do with love or caring, but rather bond and trust. But
she was fond of Ginny. And Ron. And even Mrs. Weasley. She might even be fond of… Harry. But
fondness can easily go away. Surely she was only developing this feeling because of her constant
presence around them and the warm environment. Yes, it had to be the atmosphere.

There was a knock at the door and both girls jumped at the piercing noise. Ginny called a soft
“Come in” and the door opened slightly, revealing a mop of plump red hair. Mrs. Weasley's
smiling face came into view as she opened the door fully, revealing her in a long floral dress
covered with a white, stained apron.

“Breakfast is ready, girls.” She said.

Hermione lifted herself off of her mattress and followed Mrs. Weasley down the stairs, Ginny a
short distance behind her. When they reached the kitchen, the burst of delicious food blew into
Hermione's senses and she looked hungrily at the table. Eggs, kippers, bacon, toast, and
sausages were all aligned along the middle and she gingerly took a seat. She began to load her
plate right away and did her best to avoid Ginny's eyes. She could feel the brown orbs bore
into her and it was all she could do not to scream.

She saw Mrs. Weasley sit down and turn to her. “You get a good night sleep last night,
Hermione?”

Hermione smiled warmly, “Yes, thank you.”

She nodded, “Well I'm glad. Today is going to be jam-packed. Fred and George should arrive
soon, and with them, the return of my husband from his business trip. Then, we'll have to get
the house ready for the Christmas party Harry and Ron wanted to have this weekend.”

“A party?” Hermione asked with a slightly shaky tone to her voice.

Mrs. Weasley nodded, “Yes, a party. They've had one every year for the past two years and
this being their last year, I felt like we should get an early start.”

“Oh” Hermione said idly, “That's… lovely.”

“Is something wrong, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked in a worried tone.

Hermione shook her head, “It's nothing, really.”

She gave her an odd look, “Alright, dear. If you're sure.”

Hermione gave her a thankful smile. At least there was one person here she wasn't ashamed to
be fond of. Ginny was slowly losing her favor. First the funny feeling she got whenever she was
around her, and now the silent treatment. Honestly, how childish could you get? So she was
underneath her boyfriend for a good ten seconds, that wasn't a reason to overreact like this!
It wasn't as if it meant something.

Hermione was shaken from her thoughts by the sound of slow footfalls coming into the kitchen.
Slowly turning her head, she saw Harry running his hand though his hair lazily and staring at the
floor. He took a seat next to Ginny and looked up slightly, meeting her eyes for a moment before
quickly averting them. *Well that was odd.* She thought to herself.

“Where's Ron?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“He's still in the bathroom, didn't feel so well this morning.” Harry explained. “I was
up all night conjuring up empty pails for him to… well you get the picture.”

Mrs. Weasley put a hand over her mouth, “Oh my poor Ronnykins, I should brew him up a quick
Pepper-up Potion!” And before anyone could say another word, she bustled out of the kitchen.

Hermione looked up at Harry and Ginny and asked, “Ronnykins?”

Harry let out a small laugh, “Yeah, you'll be hearing a lot of that around here in the next
few weeks. It's Molly's pet name for him and well, it stuck. I think Fred and George use it
more than anyone else.”

“I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be looking forward to their visit, or cower behind a
table and cry” Hermione said honestly.

Harry chuckled, “Well in my opinion, they're not so bad once you get to know them but when
you first meet them they have a habit of acting a bit—

All of a sudden, three loud pops sounded, signifying apparition. Harry looked as though he was
going to finish his sentence when a sound Hermione could only describe as resembling an explosion
sounded. They all jumped as a whizzing sound followed and a bright line of sparks flew into the
kitchen. Hermione was blinded as the sparks flew about the kitchen, knocking pots and pans off
their holsters and denting cupboards. The loud sounds became so overwhelming, that the three
occupants of the kitchen had to cover their ears to save from any more strain. The noises came to a
sudden halt as the sparks faded, leaving a faint whisper in their wake. They all removed their
hands from atop their ears and Harry finally got the chance to finish his sentence,
“eccentric.”

No sooner had the word left his lips that two tall men with bright red hair came into the
kitchen. They both donned matching silver robes, covering shirts each embroidered with three
W's in the top right corner, one red, and one blue. But the thing that made them stand out the
most was their matching devilish grins showing off their inhumanly white teeth which, to
Hermione's observations seemed to reflect the light and shine about the entire room.
“Season's greetings pals and gals!” they both said in unison.

One of them turned over to grin at Harry and he covered his eyes, shielding them from the glare
of his teeth. “What in the name of Merlin did you do to your teeth?”

The twins looked at each other and simultaneously touched their hands to their teeth, pulling
them straight out from their mouths. Hermione resisted the urge to gag. She looked down to their
hands to see the gleaming white teeth shining brightly. And, glancing back to their mouths, she saw
them sporting matching smiles and showing a pair of normal-looking teeth. Before anyone could say
anything to their display, the one in the red spoke up. “They're called Dazzling Dentures,
guaranteed to blind anyone within a good two yard distance with just a flash of the teeth or your
money back.”

A man with a receding red hairline pushed through Fred and George before they could speak
another word, sending a radiant smile in the direction of Ginny and Harry. He was dressed in dark
brown robes and an oddly patterned green vest. A pair of thin-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge
of his nose and Hermione could tell by looking at the way the robes fell around his body that he
was a very thin man. Ginny ran into his arms a second later, exclaiming a squeal of “Daddy!” and
her suspicious were confirmed. This was Mr. Weasley.

“There's my favorite little princess! How are you, sweetheart?” He cooed.

She giggled, “I'm fine Daddy.”

It was a sickening site, seeing them doting on each other. Now she knew the reason she acted so
peppy all the time: She was a spoiled brat. As far to her knowledge, Ginny was the only girl, so it
was inevitable for her to be pampered beyond normal capacity.

The two of them pulled apart and he walked over to Harry and gave him a hug as well, but this
one much shorter. “Good to see you again, Harry.”

“Back at you, Mr. Weasley.” Harry said with a smile.

Mr. Weasley looked around the kitchen for a moment, searching for something. At first, Hermione
thought he was observing the damage his sons had inflicted on the kitchen. But, after only
remaining in thought for a moment, she was proved wrong. “Where's Ron?”

“Not feeling too well.” Harry explained for the second time.

Mr. Weasley nodded and turned towards Hermione for the first time. Her body stiffened and she
immediately felt self-consciousness wash over her. She had never met this man before, and yet she
was already intimidated by him. How is it that this family had such an effect on her?

“And you must be Hermione, am I correct?”

Hermione nodded, “Yes.”

He gave her a warm smile and held out his hand, which Hermione reluctantly took. “Well it's
a pleasure to meet you, Hermione.”

“Same to you.” She replied mechanically.

“Oh would you lookie here Fred.” The twin she now identified as George commented, looking
pointedly at her.

“What, George?” Fred responded with an airy nonchalance.

“It's the bird our good `ol Ronnykins couldn't stop writing to us about!” George
exclaimed, as though he had just deducted a major discovery.

“Well slap my wand and call me Shirley, I think it is!” Fred said, looking at her with a goofy
grin. Hermione began to form a smile as she comprehended what they were saying. Ron had written
about her?

“Hermione, right?” George asked.

“Umm… yes.” She answered uncertainly.

Fred stuck out his hand for her to shake and she reached for it politely. “I'm Gred, and
this is my brother—” George came up and began to shake her other hand. “Forge.”

Hermione didn't even bother asking questions about the way they had re-arranged their names.
She was quickly learning not to second guess their behavior. But really, *what* could they do
that would shock her now? Unfortunately, Hermione found out the answer to that question quickly
when both twins took each of her hands and brought it up to their lips for a chaste kiss. Their
lips were soft and only lasted for a moment, but as they pulled away, she stared gaping at them but
they just grinned and turned away.

Hermione thought an awkward pause was next, but was proven wrong yet again. They all took a seat
next to her and began to eat, striking up a conversation with each other about something that she
held no particular interest in. Truth be told, she was more concerned with the damaged kitchen she
was in. How could everyone be so nonchalant about the whole thing? Didn't anyone care about
common courtesy anymore?

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN HAPPENED TO MY KITCHEN?!”

*Finally, a voice of reason,* Hermione thought to herself as Mrs. Weasley came into the
kitchen spotting a scarlet face. Everyone but Hermione blushed and bowed their heads down in shame,
as if it was all of their faults. Hermione wanted to slap them all across the head for acting like
a bunch of wimps! It was Mrs. Weasley. All she had as a weapon of choice was a rolling pin.

“Hello mother!” Fred chimed.

“So lovely to see you!” George followed.

“How you lost weight?”

“Or gained more of the loving and caring we have missed so much while we have been away from
home?”

“Mummy, we missed you!” they both shouted in unison before sandwiching her in a hug from both
ends.

Mrs. Weasley huffed and pushed the two off of her, “Oh cut it out would you! I missed you too,
but I would like to know what happened to my kitchen before any tearful reunions are to take
place!”

“Well you see…” George fumbled to explain.

“We wanted to test out a few products…”

“And it ended up…”

“Going a bit out of hand…”

“A bit?” she asked timidly. “*A bit*? Destroying my kitchen does *not* constitute as a
bit!”

“Sorry mum.” They both said in unison.

Hermione found herself to be somewhat shocked that they gave in so quickly to her. They came off
to her as the kind of people who would fight for what they wanted, not give in at the slightest
hint of a raised voice. But, she figured, this family wasn't exactly as readable as she
originally thought so she might as well get used to being wrong within these next few weeks.
Sighing, she excused herself and walked into the living room, taking a seat on the sofa and
relaxing into its folds.

“It takes a while for the shock to wear off.”

She had become used to him sneaking up on her by now, so her eyes remained shut as she answered
in a blasé voice. “For what to wear off?”

“The inability to read the Weasley's like an open book.” He responded.

Hermione opened her eyes and looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. “And how do you know
that's what I'm trying to do?”

“The look of shock on your face about a dozen times gave it away.” He said, taking a seat next
to her.

“And what makes you an expert?” she asked.

“Because it's common knowledge. When I first met them, I thought they were going to be just
like my so-called family at home, but was proved wrong every second I spent with them. They're
an odd bunch, but have become the closest thing to family I've ever known other than my
godfather.” He said quietly, growing more distant towards the end.

“Godfather?” she asked. He had a godfather?

He nodded, “He died a few years ago.”

A shot of something went through Hermione's chest at the statement. “I'm so sorry.”

“It's alright, it wasn't your fault. He was murdered.”

“Murdered?”

“Yeah. By his cousin, Bellatrix.” He said tersely.

Hermione did her best not to gasp for air. Bellatrix? Bellatrix *Lestrange*? As in the
Bellatrix that was the Dark Lord's pet for all intensive purposes? She had murdered her cousin,
her own flesh in blood? Hermione knew she was mad, but to kill your own kin was just… barbaric. If
Hermione was forced with the decision to kill someone of her own blood, she knew that she
wouldn't do it. Granted, she had never known any of her relatives, so there was no saying what
she would actually do in that situation. But the thought of it made her sick to her stomach, so
there was a good chance that she would back down at the chance.

They both remained silent as they sat there, Hermione not knowing what to say for once. There
was so much tension in the air that she could taste it on her tongue. It tasted like rotten meat.
It was in these moments that Hermione thought about ways to avoid these situations. She really had
to stop letting these people from getting to her. The mission was vital and in full swing and here
she was, enjoying herself when she was supposed to be working. Then again, wasn't that what she
was supposed to do, be their friend? What was left of her to do then, shag one of them? She
shuttered at the thought.

“Are you two ready to help with the cleaning?”

Mrs. Weasley was looking at them with a duster in one hand and her wand in the other. Hermione
smiled and nodded at the elder woman and stood to face her. It was then that she noticed that how
taller she was than her. She had a good few inches over the stout woman and Hermione couldn't
help but smile to herself. She had always been called petite and now she could count herself as
more towards average than her tormenters had lead her to believe.

“Hermione, Harry, since you're already here would you please tidy up the living room? If you
find anything of a… questionable nature, please set it aside and I'll take a look at it later.
Alright?”

“Sure” Harry replied. Hermione jumped a little when she felt his close proximity behind her.
Must he always do that?

“Thank you so much! I'll be in the attic, trying to find some decorations.” And with that,
she disappeared up the stairs.

Hermione lost count of the steps as Mrs. Weasley ascended the stairs, not knowing what else to
do. Harry wasn't making an effort to initiate conversation, so why should she? So, without any
further distractions, she pulled out her wand and began to pick up random pieces of trash, molding
them all into a single ball. Harry later followed her lead and they were soon on opposite sides of
the room. They continued like that for what felt like hours, but in reality was only about forty
five minutes. Hermione was so concentrated on getting the dust from behind their wireless set she
didn't hear the footsteps announcing the arrival of another person. In fact, by the time she
was finished, she could begin to hear snippets of a conversation coming from behind her.

“…not the right time, Ginny.”

“She'll never find out. Besides, it won't take that long that why it's called a
quickie.”

Hermione's gag reflex kicked in and she tried to make it look as though she was still busy
cleaning. Maybe, if she came in at the right time, Ginny would go away.

“Come on, be realistic. We have to work if we want to throw the party in two days, you know
that.”

She heard Ginny sigh resolutely, “Yeah, I know… but just for once I would like to—”

“I know.” He interrupted. “We'll have time later, I promise. But for now, we have to get
back to cleaning. Besides, I think our conversation is making Hermione uncomfortable.”

The mention of her name caused Hermione to bump her head on the small shelf that was above the
wireless set. Looking meekly over at Harry and Ginny she saw that Harry was smiling at her
apologetically while Ginny was crossing her hands over her chest, averting her gaze. Knowing that
hiding discreetly was no longer an option, she turned around fully. There was a strained silence as
they all looked awkwardly around the room. Hermione didn't know what to say, but she knew what
she wanted to do. Puke.

“Ginny, what are you doing back here?” Mrs. Weasley's overpowering voice sounded from the
stairs.

Ginny turned around to face her mother, “Mum! I was just—”

“No excuses! Get back to the bathroom and continue washing it like you are *supposed* to be
doing right now!”

Ginny sighed in frustration, “Fine.” Seeing her mother nod in content, she quickly turned to
Harry and gave him a kiss on the lips. Hermione flinched and she could have sworn that Ginny was
staring at her as soon as their lips dethatched, a smug smile dancing on her face. But, she turned
back to Harry too quickly for her to tell. “I'll miss you. Remember *later*.”

Before Harry could respond, she climbed the stairs, leaving both him and Hermione speechless.
Harry turned to Hermione slowly with his features contorted oddly. “Sorry you had to hear
that.”

Hermione was thankful that he was apologizing to her. But that still didn't change the fact
that she heard their conversation and was sure she'd be scarred for life. “Thanks.”

They were saved from what surely would have been a tense conversation by Fred (or who she
thought was Fred) stepping into the room. He was holding a bright pink bunch of leaves in his hand
and looking at them with a wide grin. Now she knew where Ginny inherited her lovely smile.

“`Ello Harry, Hermione.” He greeted.

“Hey Fred” Harry replied, proving Hermione's earlier guess right.

“Do you mind if I hang this somewhere? Me and George want to test it out to see if it actually
works.” He gestured to the doorway connecting the living room to the kitchen above him with a bob
off his neck.

“Sure, knock yourself out.” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. If possible,
Fred's grin widened and he snapped his fingers so a small stepstool appeared. It wasn't
very big, just tall enough to boost Fred up to safely secure the bundle of leaves on the doorway.
When he got down, he stared at it with a proud look on his face. Harry, however, narrowed his eyes
and looked at Fred. “Is that the new mistletoe-thing you guys have been working on?”

Fred nodded enthusiastically, “Yep! Weasley's Special Mischievous Mistletoe, guaranteed to
get you and your sweetie to pucker up or… well, I think you know the rest.”

Harry nodded, “Right. Remind me, what's the point of this mistletoe, anyway?”

“Well it's only supposed to work on soul mates. Sometimes, a person's soul mate
isn't the one they're currently with and it'll be pretty amusing watching their faces
when they find out that little fact. It's still in its testing stages, though, so we're not
quite sure if it works yet. George suggested bringing it here and testing it on mum and dad, so
I'll call them down later to see if it's ready to sell.” Fred explained, his face very
eccentric. “The poll's already going on when Ginny will drag you under there.”

Harry punched Fred in the shoulder playfully, “That's just cruel.”

He threw his hands up in the air, “Never said I was nice.” He remained silent for a moment
before looking up at Harry with a small smile. “Harry, why don't you step under the
mistletoe?”

Harry narrowed his brow, “Why?”

“Well, to test it of course. If I'm right, your soul mate, if they are near, will be drawn
to you by some unknown circumstance. If they aren't around, you'll be unaffected.” Fred
said, his eyes twinkling.

Harry gave him a look before stepping under the bright pink bundle. He looked unaffected until
the mistletoe began to glow slightly. This drew the attention of Hermione and she found herself
drifting towards the bright light it was giving off. It was like her feet were moving on their own
accord while her eyes were focused on the light. It was so pretty…

Hermione tripped over her shoelace and ended up tumbling the rest of the way, right into Harry.
His fast reflexes caught her and she was shaken from her trance. Blinking her eyes rapidly, she saw
Harry looking at her oddly. “What are you d—?” he was cut off by a bright opaque array of what
looked to be dust falling around them until they formed what Hermione thought reminded her of a
bubble.

She straightened her composure and made to walk away from Harry, so that she could make room for
Ginny when she was drawn to him. But, the bubble in around the two of them stopped her. It
wasn't as forceful as a brick wall, but rather like strong rubber. She tried again to push past
the bubble and still couldn't break through. She turned to Harry to see him trying the same
thing. He stopped after a few moments and the two of them just starred at each other. They both
heard a low chuckle and turned to see Fred covering his mouth, his shoulders shaking.

“*What* is so funny?” Hermione asked angrily.

When he didn't reply, Harry tried, “What happened, Fred?”

Fred sobered enough to speak to them, but the amusement was still present in his tone, “Well I
guess there are still a few kinks to be worked out…”

“Obviously” Hermione said hotly. “Now, let us out so we can get back to cleaning.”

Fred remained silent for a moment before his smile turned to a small grimace. “I'm afraid I
can't do that.”

“What do you mean you `can't do that'?” Harry asked slowly.

“Well, soul mates or not, you guys still have to obey the charm that was put on it in order for
it to release you.” He said with his voice decreasing in volume every syllable he emitted.

“And what would that be?” Hermione asked.

“It's mistletoe, Hermione. What do people do under mistletoe?” Harry asked her, his face
contorting into what Hermione thought looked very pained.

It took her a moment to register what he meant and her stomach dropped. “We have to
*kiss*?!”

“That's the basic idea, yeah.” Fred chimed in.

“Well fine then.” Harry said, catching Hermione by surprise and letting his lips graze her
cheek. He lingered for only a second before pulling away, but it felt like it went by in slow
motion to her. When they detached, she felt her check burn where his lips had made contact and
resisted the urge to lift up her hand and rub it away.

They both looked quite embarrassed and let their eyes travel to where they thought they'd
see the living room. But, to both of their dismays, the bubble was still around them. She heard
Harry let out an aggravated grunt and she too felt her jaw clench in frustration. Both turned to
Fred to see him looking at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Seriously, a peck on the cheek? That's primary material! It won't let you out without
some lip to lip action.” He sounded cheeky and Hermione felt like she could break the bubble by
reaching over and punching him in the nose.

“Fred, come on. I can't kiss Hermione.” Harry said pleadingly.

Hermione felt a small feeling of disappointment wash over her. Of course he wouldn't want to
kiss her, he had Ginny for that. She looked over at Fred to see him shrugging his shoulders, “Yes,
you can. My sister will never find out. Besides, it's the only way to get out of that thing.”
He gestured to the bubble with one hand extended, “All it needs is a simple peck on the lips.
That's all. If you want some privacy to get it over with, fine, I'll leave.”

Harry looked in thought for a moment. Hermione thought he was going to say no and yell at Fred
to find another way to fix this situation, but he did the complete opposite. “Alright.”

Hermione looked at him dumbfounded, “What?”

He looked at her with a slight flush to his cheeks. Truth be told, she found it quite cute. “I
said alright.” He turned to Fred and pointed a finger at him, “But you have to leave the room and
swear that you'll never repeat this to *anyone*, not just Ginny.”

Fred placed his left fist over his heart, “I swear on the Marauders Map.”

Hermione furrowed her brow and looked at Harry. He seemed to take this as an acceptable answer
and nodded. Fred then turned to leave the room and Hermione wanted to yell at him to come back. She
didn't want to kiss Harry! He was her… acquaintance!

The silence was defining as they both stood there, avoiding each other's eyes. Hermione
didn't want to make the first move, and, as far as she could tell, neither did Harry. At least
she knew she wasn't the only one feeling remorse towards this. But it was only a kiss, a short
kiss that would let them go free and get back to their chores. Just a kiss…

Hermione looked tentatively to Harry to find him already staring at her. Their eyes met and she
found herself being unable to look away. His eyes were so radiantly beautiful that even the first
time she saw him, those few months ago, she found herself speechless. Of course, now she knew the
name to whom they belonged to and that certainly changed some things. Wait, was it her or were they
drifting closer? She felt a hand behind her neck and she knew she wasn't imagining things. His
touch was light, feather-like, almost as if he wanted this to be quick yet pleasant. The hairs on
the back of her neck stood up and she knew that it was working. She braced herself when he was no
more than an inch away, his breath blowing warm air onto her face. Closing her eyes, she felt the
light pressure of his lips upon hers and she felt her body melt.

His lips were like satin, moving slowly across hers in small strokes. Her hands, hanging feebly
at her side, came to rest on his shoulder blades, feeling his muscles tense at her touch. She felt
his lips apply more pressure and her mind went into a blur and she didn't even remember
thinking about it before responding and applying equal pressure with her own lips. For what felt
like an eternity, they stood there, soaking up each other. Their lips gently suckled on each other
and their hands roamed lightly, not straying from their original places. The need for air became
too much to resist and Hermione felt herself pull back quickly.

Their breathes were ragged and their eyes remained closed. He rested his forehead gently against
hers and she felt herself nuzzle against it slightly. It was in that moment when her mind chose to
turn back on. She had just kissed Harry! Her sworn enemy, her target, her friend, *Harry*! And
she liked it too much… way too much. She only knew of one way to escape situations like this. She
ran.

Disentangling herself from Harry, Hermione sprinted up the stairs two at a time and tuned out
anything she thought was a call of her to come back. When she reached the door to Ginny's room,
she placed a locking charm on it quickly and collapsed onto her bed. She pulled a pillow from
beside her and screamed into it as loud as she could. She had developed a habit of doing that years
ago when things didn't go her way at the Malfoy Manor and felt that it was still as effective
now as it was then. But, she had never had this much feeling behind it. And damn, was it giving her
a headache!

She had never experienced anything like that in her life. Not even with Draco. Sure, he was a
fantastic kisser and shag, but it was all passion and lust. No real feelings other than raw desire.
But this kiss with Harry… she felt like she wanted to cling to him and never let him go. It was as
if desire was only a contribution factor and something else was fueling the fire she had felt in
the pit of her stomach that wouldn't go away since the moment she found out she had to kiss
him. It made her want to puke and laugh at the same time. Something was wrong. She had never felt
this before and was scared beyond belief. Surely, she couldn't have *feelings* for him.
She had just admitted she liked him as a friend and now *this*?

Well, whatever *this* was, it sucked. More so than anything she'd ever felt. And she
thought being depressed was horrible. It wasn't going away, that much she knew. So she would
stay here for a while and think. Think about her feelings, her mission, and most of all Harry. Why
had she been so drawn to the mistletoe? Was Fred going to tell anyone despite him swearing on some
sort of map?

She had a lot of time to think about these things because that was the first night that Ginny
didn't return to the room during the night.

-->



13. Numb
--------



**A/N: Well here you go! It's a bit short-ish, but I was a bit lazy today. A lot of you
will be kinda mad at me after you read this, but again, it'll all work out! I'm getting a
lot of hateful reviews about Ginny and couldn't be happier. I never intended for her to be
likeable in this story and it makes me happy that you guys share my views. But please, be patient
with the upcoming Harry/Ginny breakup! It'll happen, just hold your freakin'
horses!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, blah blah blah. I am not JKR, yada yada yada.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Numb**

It was the day before the party.

Hermione had had a few days to think about what had been transpiring and she had finally come up
with a conclusion. He liked her. And not the like as in a friendly like. An actual attraction. So
these past few days she had been walking around the house with a smug look on her face. More than
one person had asked if she was alright. Of course she was! She had the boy-who-lived attracted to
her! She couldn't have felt better if she tried.

Of course, it wasn't really a surprise. She usually attracted the opposite sex like flies,
hence why she was so talented at what she did. Hermione had something most of the other Death
Eaters didn't have: Attractiveness. She had used it to lure more than a few victims into the
clutches of her master and never hesitated to use it to her advantage. She wasn't one to sleep
around, though. In fact, Draco had really been the only one she had shared that with. Well, him and
the occasional pick-me-up when she went out. But really, it wasn't as if she had shagged all of
Great Britain. It was only a smidge.

So, she had come up with a plan. Now that Harry was basically putty in her hands, she could use
in her favor. The kiss was only the beginning. The initial shock had now worn off and she finally
came up with a conclusion about why she had acted so odd. It had been her first time not initiating
contact and he had caught her by surprise. Of course, she didn't know why she was so surprised
in the first place. Sure, he had a girlfriend, but really, they were still in school so it
wasn't as if they were going to last. Besides, Ginny struck her as one of those people who
would be easy to manipulate. She still considered her a friend, but friends don't last. They
never last. So why worry?

Today was the perfect day to initiate her plan. It just so happened that yesterday Fred had
announced to the dinner table that the annual Weasley Snowball Fight was to take place this
afternoon. Hermione had been excited from the beginning, but now she was glowing. All of those days
of training would finally be put to good use. She hoped that they wouldn't hesitate to go full
out. A challenge on her first go would help her from being easily distracted. Seducing Harry seemed
too childish, something that was entirely to cliché for her to even attempt. No. She was going to
make him fall for her the old fashioned way. It seemed that he liked who she was being now, so all
she had to do was keep pretending. It seemed so easy that she considered concocting a new plan
entirely on more than one occasion. But it would make for a nice break.

The only thing she had to keep a monitor on was her emotions. She had acted so silly last time!
Her hormones had gone wonky. That had to be the reason. Her heart racing, palms sweating… it was
all a normal reaction to the kiss. She was a teenager; she was bound to make the mistake of letting
her emotions run wild. But now that she knew what to look out for, it would be easier to prevent it
from happening again. She couldn't kiss him. Not until she had all of her emotions in check. If
he tried to pull one on her, though (which he was highly likely to do… that kiss was pretty
intense, so he was bound to want more) she would avoid it. Run, make excuses, do something to avoid
it. Easy as pie.

“Hermione, dear, are you going to come down for lunch?” Mrs. Weasley's voice sounded from
the door.

She had cooped herself up in Ginny's room for most of the day, reading a book she had
borrowed from the school library before they had left. It was a fiction novel about a witch falling
in love with a troll. Quite the epic love tale, if she did say so herself. It was nice to know that
love existed in a fictional world, making her feel better about her loveless life in the real
one.

“Sure, Mrs. Weasley. I'll be down in a second.” She placed a scrap piece of parchment on the
page where she left off and placed the book beside her on the bed.

Hermione made her way down the stairs and saw everyone already eating at a fast pace. It was as
though they didn't even care about their digestive systems at all. Well, when they were in the
middle of the snowball fight and got a cramp, she wouldn't be there to help them, but rather in
a corner laughing to herself. So with that humorous thought, she sat down next to Ron and piled a
small serving of bacon sandwiches and salad onto her plate. She was strategizing to win, and win
she was going to do.

“So, who's ready to get smoldered?” Fred asked with a grin.

The whole table let out a slur of comebacks and colorful comments that Hermione couldn't
catch. She smiled and got back to eating, fully focused on the game. The sound of apparition
interrupted the conversations around her and a man with a ponytail of red hair tied about his neck
stepped through. Mrs. Weasley let out a loud squeal of “BILL!” and Hermione recognized him more
clearly now. Harry had said that he was a curse-breaker for Gringotts and recently got married. She
could see an earring on his left ear that resembled a large fang and observed that his clothing was
very grungy. He looked very different from the other Weasley's and she admired him for that. It
was nice to know they weren't all clones of each other.

Behind Bill was a strikingly beautiful woman with long silvery blonde hair, pale blue eyes, and
when she flashed Mrs. Weasley a smile, Hermione could see a pair of white, even teeth. Hermione
assumed this must be Bill's wife.

“Molly `ow wondervul it iz to see you again.” She said in a throaty voice, thick with a French
accent.

“Fleur, it is always a pleasure.” Mrs. Weasley answered, giving her a hug as well.

“So mum, has it started yet?” Bill asked, taking off his leather jacket and tossing it atop one
of the chairs.

Mrs. Weasley looked a tad annoyed at his statement, “No, it starts after lunch. But really Bill,
you're a grown man, you shouldn't be gallivanting about playing silly games.”

“Oh come on mum, you're only young once.” He said with a lop-sided smile.

“Well, either way, have some food before you brave the cold.” Mrs. Weasley said, motioning to
the table.

Bill nodded and placed a hand around Fleur's back, guiding her to the seat next to his. They
both began eating and Hermione had to wonder to herself how they could have ever found each other.
They looked to be complete opposites of each other. Bill, with his tattered leather clothing and
tooth-shaped earring and Fleur with her pale blue sweater and matching pants. A literal picture of
fire and ice. Hermione was so busy observing the couple that she jumped when Bill's eyes met
hers.

“I don't believe we've met.” He said.

Hermione shook her head, “No, we haven't. I'm Hermione Granger, Ron and Harry's
friend.” She left out Ginny's name on purpose.

Bill stuck out his hand, which Hermione took without hesitation. “Nice to meet you Hermione.
I'm Bill and this is my wife, Fleur.” He motioned to Fleur and she smile at her as well.

“It iz a pleasure to meet you.” She said politely.

“Same to you.” Hermione replied, taking her hand from Bill's grip.

“How's business bee going, George?” Bill asked.

“Stronger than ever.” George replied.

“Brought a new product with us.” Fred chimed.

“Don't know if it works yet…” George trailed off.

“Haven't had any testers?” Bill asked.

“No we—” Fred's eyes flickered towards Hermione and stopped himself. “Yeah… we were hoping
to test it out at the party.”

“Well what is it?” Bill asked curiously.

As Fred and George explained their newest product, Hermione dared a look over to where Harry was
sitting. He looked to be fiddling with his napkin with his eyes completely focused on it. If she
didn't know better, she would think he was trying to hide a blush. No, he couldn't be. He
was just bored and waiting for everyone else to finish. But as Hermione looked at his plate, she
saw that he wasn't finished with his food. In fact, it looked as though he had only taken a few
bites. Odd.

She didn't realize she was staring at him until she felt a pair of eyes boring into her.
Flicking her eyes next to Harry for a moment, she saw Ginny's bright brown eyes narrowed in her
direction. She wouldn't let Ginny's obvious jealousy affect her. She glared right back and
leaned back in her chair, daring her to do something. Apparently, Ginny hadn't thought this all
the way through and she just focused her attention back on the main conversation. Hermione smirked
in triumph and turned her attention to the conversation as well.

“So where's Charlie?” George asked.

“Yeah, where's good `ol Dragon Breath?” Fred added.

Mrs. Weasley glared at Fred for a moment before answering, “He'll be here in time for
Christmas.”

“That's real specific, mum.” Fred said.

“Yeah, right on the dot.” George added.

“Oh hush you two.” She said in a strained hiss. “He had some last-minute things to take care of
in Romania before he can get here.”

“Charlie was always a workaholic.” Bill said breezily.

Within the next half an hour, the conversation stayed light. Hermione noticed that Fleur tended
to stare at Bill a lot. She didn't really see the point in that. If you knew someone was
sitting right next to you, what was the point of looking at them as if the seat was vacant?
Honestly, it was a waste of time. If you were going to tire out your pupils, you should at least do
it on something worthwhile.

“Get your coats on, ladies; it's time for some action!” George called as he sprinted up the
stairs.

Hermione rolled her eyes as everyone leapt out of their seats and followed his lead. Hermione
casually scooted her seat back and followed behind them at a slower pace, making sure to distance
herself from the traffic of people trying to make it to their rooms. She heard Mrs. Weasley say
some suggestive words including some mentions about how stupid and childish the game was. Hermione
had to agree, but it sure was fun to hit people in the face with freezing cold slush balls.

Ginny was already fully dressed by the time she entered the room. The red head pushed past her
with her eyes focused on the opposite wall and Hermione held back the urge to punch her in the
stomach as she passed. She would get her in the fight. So, without further ado, she pulled on her
heavy winter coat, wool gloves and thick leather boots. Taking a final look around the room, she
exited.

When she reached the living room she saw everyone already down there. They all were in light
conversations and Harry was the first to notice she had arrived. Even Fleur was there, bundled up
in a bright white coat with fur around the neck and matching gloves. “There you are. We were
waiting for you.”

Hermione was surprised, “You didn't have to do that.”

“We know.” Ron said.

“But we wanted to.” Bill added.

“Besides, it wouldn't be fair game if we left you in here now would it?” Fred asked
rhetorically.

Hermione smiled at the group and followed them out the back door. They took her past the garden
and into an open field. It looked like an orchard covered in a fresh blanket of snow. It was
surrounded by trees and was about half of the size of the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts. In short, it
was perfect.

Fred and George went in front of the group and George cupped his hands over his mouth like a
megaphone. “Line up, me and Fred are going to pick teams!”

“Oy! Who made you two captains?!” Ron yelled at the pair.

The two looked at each other before answering in unison, “We did.”

“Now line up, runts!” Fred screamed.

They all formed a line and Hermione was squished in-between Harry and Bill. Harry's shoulder
collided with hers briefly and she took a sharp intake of breath. *Stay calm; he doesn't
affect you like this. You are in control, not him.* She chided herself. Within a few seconds her
body relaxed and she stood tall, proud of herself for her conquest over her hormones. Now, all she
had to do was become numb to them and she'd be ready for anything.

George scanned the group with his eyes for a moment, “Ginny.”

Ginny bounded forward with a wide grin and gave her brother a high five. She gave Hermione a sly
grin and Hermione returned her look. If she wanted to play games, she would get one hell of a
fight.

Fred scanned the group for a moment like his brother and his face brightened as an idea came to
him. “Harry.”

Harry walked forward to Fred and gave him an odd look. Apparently, he wasn't expecting to be
picked first. Hermione took her focus away from Harry and focused on George, who had his chin
gripped between his thumb and pointed finger in thought.

“Ron.” He called.

Ron jogged over to George and went to stand next to his sister.

Hermione looked back over at Fred and could swear she saw a twinkle in his eye. “Hermione.”

Hermione's stomach plummeted as she walked slowly over to where Fred and Harry stood. She
was really hoping she and Harry would be on opposite teams. That way, she could go after him
without being questioned. Flirt without flopping. But no, apparently Fred had other things in mind.
She tried not to show her displeasure as George and Fred made their final picks. In the end, her
team got Fleur and George's team got Bill. Both teams went into a huddle as they started to
plan out their strategy.

“Alright” Fred instructed, “I want Harry with me in front, and Fleur and Hermione in charge of
our fort. Make it about waist high and sturdy. Work on extra ammo once you're done and then
join us. The name of the game is to destroy the opposing team's fort. No charms to make it
impenetrable, but you can use some to make building it faster. Everyone ready?” Everyone nodded,
“Alright, on the count of three. One… two… three!”

Hermione sprinted to a nearby tree and began to make a base for the fort. Fleur wasn't far
behind her and she helped hand her snow. Hermione cast a simple sticking charm to make the snow pat
easier as she smoothed out the base. She didn't like being ordered around. In fact, she
detested it. It was all she had not to waltz up to Fred and give him what he deserved. But, alas,
she knew she couldn't. Oh, how she longed for this mission to be over soon so that she could
stop holding back all of these repressed urges.

They were about at knee-length when Fleur spoke up. “Iz zis your first time playing?”

Hermione didn't let her gaze falter from the fort as she answered, “No.”

“Oh… well Bill thought I should play thees year. Said eet would be fun.”

“The only fun part is when you get to hit people in the face with the snowballs.” Hermione
commented, patting in another handful of snow, and then smoothing it over with her wand.

“Why would you be amused by zat?” Fleur asked.

Hermione shrugged, “Because it's entertaining.”

“Well eet sounds barbaric to me.”

“Never said it wasn't.” Hermione said lightly.

“You are not like other girls, are you?”

“Nope.” Hermione answered, “But any normal girl wouldn't be able to get this fort done in
half the time now would she?”

And, sure enough, with one final wave of her wand, the fort was finished. Hermione eyed it
proudly and turned to look at Fleur behind her. She seemed to have a passive look on her face as
she looked back at her. Hermione shrugged and started to make a surplus of snowballs like she was
instructed. Truth be told, she didn't like Fleur very much. She struck her as the kind of
stuck-up snob that tried too hard to fit in where she didn't belong. Hermione hated phonies
like that.

Fleur helped her with the snowballs and when they had made around fifty, they called it quits
and went to join Harry and Fred. Hermione was quick to find them and molded a snowball in her
hands, coming up behind Fred. He felt her presence within a few seconds and turned to face her with
a smile.

“The fort ready to go?” He asked.

Hermione nodded, “Yeah.”

“Excellent. Now you go over with Harry and try to take on their fort. Me and Fleur will stay
back and play defense.”

“I really don't think—”

“Hermione, listen. You and Harry are friends, right? Well, one kiss shouldn't change all of
that. But keep in mind that mine and George's inventions don't have a habit of
malfunctioning often.” And with that, he sprinted over to Fleur.

Hermione stood there, dumbstruck, as she watched him depart. Just *what* had he meant by
that? Hermione looked over to her right and saw Harry picking up a handful of snow and forming a
snowball. Remembering the plan, she walked over to him and forgot about Fred's advice. For
now.

When she reached Harry, he was already looking at her with an odd look on his face. She tried
not to let her true emotions show (annoyance, anger, and some unnamed feeling that she still
hasn't distinguished) as she spoke up. “Fred wants me and you to take on their fort.”

Harry nodded, “I figured as much.”

“So what do you propose we do?” Hermione asked.

“Wing it.” He answered simply.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Harry was already running over to where the other
team's fort was on the opposite side of the field. She let out an aggravated grunt and followed
behind, her snowball pressed tightly in her hand. She regretted bringing wool gloves; the snow was
leaking through and making her hands numb.

The fort was being guarded by Bill and Hermione wondered vaguely why Harry was still racing full
speed towards it. In an instant, she realized. He was being the distraction. She made a quick scan
of the field and saw the Ginny and Fred were in the middle of a wrestling match and Ron had Fleur
trapped against a tree with a snowball raised in his right hand. Quickly, she snuck around the tree
closest to their fort and saw as Harry taunted Bill away from it. She waited until Harry had Bill a
few yards away before striking. She got within shooting range of the fort and shot a *Reducto*
at it, blowing the fort apart and spraying wet snow all over the place. Hermione hid behind the
tree and barely escaped the cold shower.

“VICTORY IS OURS!” Fred boomed.

Hermione came out from behind the tree to see Harry and Fred running at her at full speed. She
barely had time to brace herself before she was crushed in a team hug. She could hear the other
team moaning and groaning behind her and smirks. It felt good to win it for the team. Oh, how
she'd missed this.

“That was brilliant, I can't believe you knew exactly what to do!” Harry acclaimed.

Hermione had to bite back the cocky response on the tip of her tongue. Harry like the “innocent”
her. If she wanted to take advantage of him, she would have to act exactly the way she was when
they kissed. But oh, how she wanted to brag about how she had learned to read signals like that! It
had taken her years to perfect it and the one person who compliments her on it (well, aside from
Draco, but he didn't count, he was a suck up if he wanted a shag) she couldn't even tell.
Irony sucked.

Hermione decided to be bashful, “Thanks! It's just a gift I guess.”

“Well it was bloody brilliant!” Fred exclaimed.

“Oy!” Bill's voice sounded from afar.

The group looked over at Ginny, Bill, George, and Ron. Ron chose to speak up next, “We want a
rematch!”

Fred raised an eyebrow, “Call all the rematches you want, we're still going to beat
you!”

“We'll see about that. Game on in five minutes.” Ginny said with a dangerous look. Well,
what she thought was a dangerous look. Hermione thought it made her look constipated.

And so they had another game. And another… and another one. Every match had the same result,
Hermione destroying the opposing team's fort and everyone basking in her excellence. It was all
she could do not to scream at the top of her lungs. The “new” Hermione had to be modest. Oh well,
she had a pillow for later.

It was the last official game and Hermione was at her usual post, by the opposite fort. It was
heavily guarded and she was having a bit more of a challenge getting a good aim. Harry and Fleur
were being good distraction, but Fred kept on giving her hand signals that were both atypical and
obvious. She had to change her position five times because he kept on giving it away with his
stupid techniques. So, she remained hidden from everyone and saw Fred searching the grounds for
her. Perfect. Ginny was guarding the fort and Hermione resisted running towards her, knocking her
down into the fort and winning the match yet again. That would look a bit odd.

She had a feeling Ginny had elected to take the position of guard. Of course she would try to
take the glory for herself. But there would be no glory for her or her team. Hermione was a highly
trained killing machine! Specialized in raids and torture. Ginny didn't stand a chance. And if
things didn't go her way, there was always the route of killing her and hiding the body.

*Whoa! Slow down there, Hermione. Remember, you need to be inconspicuous.—**I could just
knock her unconscious, and then bury her… then technically I won't kill her. Her lungs will
just give out from lack of oxygen and it'll all be by cause of nature—Uhh, wrong answer. You
need to calm down and focus on the game.—Game?—Yes, the snowball fight you're supposed to be
winning for your team—Team?—Oh shut up! You know you couldn't do this on your own.—Yes I
could.—Just forget it…*

Hermione aimed her wand a few inches from Ginny, avoiding her thoughts of homicide for now. A
wordless *Reducto* and the fort was kaput. Ginny turned around and her face was as bright as
her hair. Hermione chuckled out loud for once as her team cheered and enveloped her in another hug.
She was coming to like these; she might just pitch them as the new victory march of the Death
Eaters. It would make for a good change from burning down people's houses and stomping on the
ashes.

Harry was the closest to her in the huddle and she was proud to say that she didn't feel
anything this time. She was completely numb to his body contact. Step one: Complete. Unfortunately,
he had to ruin it by squeezing her tighter, yelling congratulations in her ear and ending with a
kiss on her cheek. Yeah, that's right. A kiss on her cheek. Her face was turning red but it was
masked by everyone else following his lead and giving her many more kisses. Fleur did the double
kiss on both cheeks and Hermione had to admit that all of this attention was making her feel
uncomfortable. Sure enough, they called it quits after that last game.

Hermione followed behind everyone and rubbed the excess saliva off of her cheek. Or, that was
what she was telling herself she was doing. In reality, it burned from the exact spot Harry had
placed that first kiss. And she was convinced this would be easy. Harry still made her feel funny
and she couldn't move forward until she stopped. But if he kept on pulling stunts like this, it
would never happen. Damnit.

It was a warm relief when they walked into the kitchen. It smelt of hot cocoa and biscuits.
Hermione took off her snow-covered gear and placed it by everyone else's near the steel stove.
Everyone gathered by the warm fire in the living room and she found a seat on one of the armchairs.
Harry and Ginny were on a loveseat, his hand around her waist again. Honestly, couldn't they
*not* act like a couple for ten minutes so her nausea could pass? Ginny shot her an evil smile
and she knew that wouldn't be the case. She'd just have to deal with it. Besides, the more
she saw it, the more she would get used to it, and the number she would become. Really, it was all
working out to her benefit.

So with her hot chocolate in hand she gazed into the fire. She heard the smack or a chaste kiss
like a cannon and tensed. She wouldn't look back, it would only get a reaction out of her, and
that's the last thing she wanted. No, she would just stare into the fire like this didn't
have any effect on her at all. Practice makes perfect after all. By the time she was numb to it
all, she would be a pro. It would all be perfect.

The tickling sensation at the roof of her nose said differently, but she chose to ignore
that.

-->



14. Some Parties Are Worth the Torture
--------------------------------------



**A/N: I know I'm late but if you yell at me I'll kill you. Okay, not really, but
I'll scream at you. I've been in and out of the doctor's for the past few days and
haven't had the time to write. So you'll have to settle for this angst-ridden chapter to
make up for it. It's pretty short and pretty suck-ish but I can't help it if I'm in
pain and can't concentrate. I'll try to update by this Sunday again but if this keeps up I
can't make any promises.**

**Disclaimer: JKR wrote Harry Potter… not me… as you can see, I don't have that much free
time to write a billion-dollar franchise.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Some Parties Are Worth the Torture**

There was only an hour left before the party was scheduled to start. Hermione had been helping
Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen for the better part of three hours with the snacks. At first, she
insisted on having no part with the food, claiming that she didn't want to ruin it. But, of
course, she eventually gave in after Mrs. Weasley used some persuasive arguments that she simply
couldn't refuse. That woman should be considered a miracle worker.

Wiping her hands from the excess flour, Mrs. Weasley turned to Hermione with a small smile.
“Well I think we're just about finished.”

They both turned to look at the table in the center to the kitchen, which was now covered in
pastries, fish and chips, and basically anything they could alter to have a red and green tint.
This meant everything except for the kitchen itself. Hermione looked at the table in
accomplishment, a certain proud aura coming off of her. If someone had told her she would be
helping someone cook for a bunch of adolescent teenagers, she might have killed them for proposing
such an absurd idea. But now she couldn't be more polar to that.

“All that's left now is the turkey, which should be finished by dinnertime.” Glancing at the
clock, she turned to Hermione, “You should get ready for the party.”

“But what about—”

“No but's about it. I'll take care of the rest myself. You've been more than helpful
these past few hours, the least you can do for yourself is make yourself nice and pretty for the
party. Now shoo!” She made a waving gesture with her hands and Hermione reluctantly followed.

She made it up to Ginny's room and shut the door behind her. Luck for her, Ginny was out and
about around the house, cleaning and dusting much like she and Harry had done those few days ago.
Sighing, Hermione made her way over to the bag where her party dress was in. Yesterday, Mrs.
Weasley had taken her and Ginny out dress shopping for the party in Diagon Ally. When Ginny took
three hours in every store, only to come up empty handed, it took all that Hermione had not to tear
her hair out. She had found her dress in the first store; a green empire-wasted party dress with
silver trimming about the bust and double layered chiffon lower half.

Ginny, after about three stores, found her dress as well. It was a silver sequin low-cut dress
that came to her knees and made her look gorgeous. Mrs. Weasley only agreed to buy the revealing
dress because it was on sale… oh, and she was a spoiled brat.

Hermione had never cared for parties. The only ones she had ever been to were the ones held at
the Malfoy Manor and they never ceased to bore her to an early grave. The Malfoy's took any
opportunity they could to throw a party to show off their riches, and that included using
Hermione's own birthday. She was always forced out of the confines of her bedroom and dressed
in the finest of dresses and jewels with no one but Draco to keep her company. She had a feeling
that this party wouldn't be much different. They were all the same.

Hermione slipped the dress over her head and adjusted it around her body, fidgeting to get it
placed just right. She went to the full length mirror placed against the wall and looked at her
reflection. It didn't look like any of the other dresses she had ever worn. In fact, she chose
this one because of its simplicity and lack of regality. All of the others she was forced to wear
were full of frills and elegant patterns. The finest money could buy. If she thought about it for
too long, she would think she was spoiled.

Turning around, she slipped on a pair of silver shoes she had bought to go along with her dress
and made her way down the stairs. She didn't feel like bothering with her hair. The voices
downstairs became louder as she descended, empty conversations filled with empty words. Maybe if
she was quiet enough, they wouldn't notice her. But, there was always that one piece of wood
that always creaked. So when she felt as though she would slip past them as silent as a mouse, she
was proven wrong. The second to last step creaked and the whole room turned to look at her. Fred,
George, Ron, Harry, Bill, and Fleur's eyes focused on Hermione as she ground her teeth in
frustration. It seemed as if everyone had something to say, as a slur of compliments came spilling
out from their mouths.

“Blimy” Ron breathed.

“You look…” Fred started.

“Bloody fantastic!” George finished.

“Très magnifique!” Fleur gushed.

“You look beautiful.” Bill said with a grin.

The only person who didn't say anything was Harry, he was too busy staring at her. Hermione
should have felt at least a little bit of power by getting this much of a reaction out of him. But
all she felt was her face growing red. She seriously needed to get a hold of herself, and fast.
And, as quickly as she thought it, the warmth went away. She smiled at all of them in thanks and
took a seat on the couch. She stole a glance at Harry and met his eyes with her own. She tried her
best to throw him a sweet, innocent smile. But her attempt was squished as he looked away suddenly.
What was up with him?

Ginny descended the stairs shortly afterward, earning wolf whistles from Fred and George. Her
pale legs looked amazing and her red hair was curled and unnaturally shiny. Hermione couldn't
help but let a pang of jealously flow through her. Ginny looked gorgeous and suddenly, she
regretted getting something plain. She really shouldn't second guess herself so much, it only
lead to things like this. Emotions like this.

“Ginny, you look gorgeous.” She heard Harry say, giving her a kiss on the lips.

It was a good thing that she turned her head away, or else she might have vomited all over
Ginny's dress. Oh, what a pity that would have been. Truly tragic. But alas, she still felt the
nausea in her lower stomach, straining against her skin. It wasn't helping the situation. The
party hadn't even started yet and she was already thoroughly depressed. Perfect.

There was a knock at the door not even a moment later and Hermione suppressed a groan. Time to
find a corner to sulk in.

The couch squeaked as she got up and made her way to where Mrs. Weasley had placed the punch.
She poured herself a cup and sipped it gingerly, the fruity liquid engulfing her taste buds. She
wished that it was spiked with a little bit of firewhisky so that she could at least somewhat enjoy
herself, even if it was a hoax. If she recalled correctly, she might have packed some. She shook
the thoughts from her head before they could get too inn depth. She didn't need to take her
distaste out on innocent bystanders. Well, not now at least. Besides, if Mrs. Weasley got wind of
it, there would be hell to pay.

“Hello.”

Hermione turned around and saw a pair of wide, silver eyes staring at her and she smiled
shortly. “Hello, Luna.”

Luna's dress was a multitude of different shades of blue patterns and fabrics, all in
different layers. She was still wearing her butterbeer cork necklace and radish earrings and
Hermione wondered vaguely if she ever took them off. Her platinum locks were pulled back in a
single French braid that reached down to her lower back with little clips woven in it and her shoes
were a miss-matched pair of trainers, one with rainbow stripes, the other with blue and white
stars.

“How have you been holding up?” The blonde asked.

“What do you mean?”

“With Ginny and Harry of course.” Luna answered simply.

“Oh, well…” Hermione trailed off.

“Yes, they really are quite the couple, aren't they?” Luna asked, looking towards where
Harry and Ginny were standing, talking with Seamus and Dean. “But if I'm right… the nargles
will try to disrupt their meeting under the mistletoe.” Her gaze drifted to the bright pink
arrangement.

“Nargles?” Hermione asked.

She turned back to her, “Yes, nargles. They often infest mistletoe unless some other type of
shrubbery is around. Making or breaking the moment over the couple that most deserves it at the
designated time.”

“What are they going to do to Harry and Ginny?”

Luna gave her an odd look, “They're not going to *do* anything. They're simply
going to sprinkle some invisible bubbling ashes on their heads.”

“And what will that do?”

Luna rolled her eyes, “I don't know that. What do you think I am, psychic?”

“Sorry I—”

“Harry and Ginny will meet the fate that the nargles want them too. No one else can control
that, not even if their hidden desires are begging them to.”

Hermione furrowed her brow, “Excuse me?”

“Have a nice night, Hermione.” She waved and turned to walk towards Ron.

Luna always ended up making her more confused than she already was. She should really learn to
tune her out. *Right* her mind said sarcastically, *because you're* so *good at
doing that.*

Grumbling, she made her way over to the fireplace and sat on the run in front of it. Staring
into the flames, she let her mind empty. How she wished that she was back at Hogwarts so that she
could immerse herself in her studies. That always made for a good distraction. Well, until someone
noticed you and asked you what was wrong. To which the person in question would respond “Nothing”
just to make the other person go away. Honestly, didn't people recognize the signs that someone
wanted to be left alone? Sometimes human contact can grow to be too much.

Around her, the party was in full swing. The last of the guests had just arrived and it
wouldn't be long until dinner would be served. It seemed as though everyone in their year was
here—save the Slytherins, of course. It would have been nice to see Draco. She missed him. It was
her first holiday without him and she felt his absence pressing down on her like a dark
precipice.

“Come on, Harry!” Ginny's voice squealed from behind her.

“Ginny, I already told you that I don't think it's a good idea.”

Hermione's neck turned to see the red head gripping Harry's arm tightly and pulling him
towards the entryway to the kitchen.

“Why not?” she asked with a pout, tugging harder on his arm.

“Because we don't know if it works yet, that's why not.” He said through clenched teeth.
From the position he was in, it looked as though Ginny was stronger than Hermione had originally
thought.

“Well then we can test it!” she said brightly. “It's not as if my parents are watching or
anything. You don't have to be such a prude.”

“I'm *not* a prude, Gin, and you know that.” He said with a slight amusement hidden in
his tone.

Hermione saw a flush of pink grace Ginny's cheeks before it quickly disappeared and was
replaced by a stony expression. “Well then what's there to worry about? If it doesn't work,
we can just yell at Fred and George to fix it.”

“Ginny…” he warned.

Ignoring his plea, she gave a final hard tug and placed them both beneath the mistletoe.
Hermione held her breath as Ginny looked at Harry with a victorious smirk. Harry looked as if he
wanted to be anywhere but there, darting his eyes around the room. Hermione looked at the pink
arrangement as it began to spurt a wall of dust, much as it had done when she and Harry had been
under there. Bracing herself for a big, sloppy kiss, she began to turn away but something caught
her eye that made her keep her focus on the couple. The dust was around the two of them and gaining
the attention of the entire room but something was off… it looked to be a pale shade of red instead
of the opaque sheen it had taken with her and Harry.

The two didn't seem to notice, because Ginny looked at the crowd and gave Hermione a small
wink before leaning up to capture his lips with hers. Hermione flinched and made to turn away
again, but for a second time, something stopped her. Ginny and Harry jerked apart as if invisible
hand had pushed them and flew to opposite side of the room. Concerned calls and gasps and even a
few laughs erupted throughout the room and Hermione resisted the urge to go and comfort Harry, who
was rubbing his neck from where he had hit a bookcase.

Ginny, on the other hand had hit a corner where a stuffed version of a Christmas tree was placed
and got up easily without any sign of injury. She rushed over to Harry's side and helped him
get up, making the fire in Hermione's lower stomach grow hotter.

“Oh Harry, are you alright?” she asked in a sickenly sweet voice.

“I'm fine.” He said darkly.

Ginny gave him a small smile, “Well, I guess we'll have to go get Fred and George now…”

“No need for that.” Fred popped up, jumping to where they were standing. George was quickly
behind him and they looked at the couple with wide grins.

“Alright you two…” Ginny said coolly, “You're little invention is faulty.”

George gasped and placed a hand over his heart, “Why little sister, I'm insulted.”

“Our invention…”

“Faulty?”

“It's an outrage!”

“Honestly, you think we'd make something that *doesn't* work?”

“Yeah! You just… you're just… *JEALOUS*!”

Ginny looked at them humorously, her arms crossed over her chest, “Right… I'm jealous… yeah,
okay.”

“WE KNEW IT!” they yelled in unison.

Hermione could see the whole room roll their eyes at the petty outburst that came from the
twins. It was pretty hard to miss the ridiculousness. But Hermione hoped for her sake that Ginny
ended up winning the argument. Wait. Who was she kidding? It was Ginny. And besides, Hermione
already knew the mistletoe was faulty.

“The bottom line is that you two need to fix it. *Now*.” Ginny growled.

“Whoa” Fred said, backing up a little as if a wind had blown him back. “What's the rush? You
can kiss Harry whenever you want to, no need to make it public.”

Hermione knew why she needed to. Bitch.

“Well what's the point of hanging it up if it doesn't work? They'll be people
shooting all over the room and being matched with the wrong people! Pandemonium will ensue and
it'll all be your fault.”

The twins looked at each other before speaking together, “Evidently, you need to have your brain
checked.”

Ginny looked at them with a cocked eyebrow. She opened her mouth to retort, but a piercing voice
interrupted her. “Dinner's ready!”

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came through the kitchen opening and stopped in their tracks. The mistletoe
emitted the dust; it was opaque as it formed around the two elder Weasleys, enveloping them in an
all too familiar bubble. Hermione, as well as many of the other party goers looked in wonder at the
bundle and the couple underneath. Mrs. Weasley turned to the crowd and blushed as she realized what
kind of situation she had gotten into. Mr. Weasley, however, scooped up the blushing woman into his
arms and planted a sweet kiss on her lips. Catcalls sounded throughout the room mixed with a few
gagging noises from their children.

When they pulled apart, Mrs. Weasley looked like a ripe tomato and Mr. Weasley was grinning like
Christmas had come two days early. Hermione watched them with envy. Love. It was a commonplace
thing, but oh so foreign to her eyes. It was nice to know that the mistletoe worked on someone.
Wait a second…

Hermione turned back around quickly to see Harry openly staring at her with wide eyes. Ginny was
oblivious to this, for her face was contorted to one of pure rage as she glared at Fred and George.
Fred was trying to avoid his sister's eyes and George was discreetly moving his hands to
protect a very sensitive part of the male anatomy from being injured.

“Well would you look at that…” George started.

“It's fixed.” Fred finished feebly.

Ginny just kept glaring at the two of them. But after a small amount of time, she looked between
Harry and Hermione and screamed in exasperation, storming out of the room and up the stairs. The
connection between the two of them broke when they felt Ginny's eyes. Harry cast a last
fleeting look at Hermione before rushing up the stairs after his girlfriend. She had a feeling that
he was trying to send her an apology. It didn't help the feeling of her lower stomach dropping
to the tips of her feet. She felt a pair of eyes on her and she craned her neck to see Fred looking
at her with a small nod to upstairs. “Go after him.” He mouthed.

Hermione shook her head and he gave her a warning look. She didn't know why, but she felt
compelled to obey him after that. There was no Legilimency prying into her brain… so what could it
be? Instinct? Well, whatever it was, it was enough to get her up and onto her feet. Up the stairs
she went with a single thought pulsing through her head, *Was the mistletoe accurate or
not?*

She reached Ginny bedroom and heard two muffled voices. One male, one female, both raised above
normal tones. Hermione wanted to see this for herself, but knew that she shouldn't interrupt
this particular argument. So she settled for pressing her ear up against the door. For once, she
was thankful for the Weasley's not being able to afford something. And in this case, it was
thicker wood for doors.

“Ginny you just need to calm down, alright?” Harry tried to say evenly.

“Calm down… *calm down*? How in the hell am I supposed to calm down when you…” She cut
herself off, as if afraid to say the next part.

“When I what?” Harry asked slowly. She didn't answer, so he repeated himself, “Ginny, when I
what?”

“WHEN YOU KISSED HER, THAT'S WHAT!” she screamed.

Hermione put a hand over her mouth and flinched away from the door. How did she know about
that?

Harry seemed to be in the same state as she was, because he took his time in answering the loud
outburst. “How did you… when did you…?”

“I saw it, you moron!” She said bluntly. “I was there!”

Hermione thought for a moment. She certainly hadn't noticed anyone there besides herself,
Harry, and Fred. But Ginny could have been coming down the stairs and looked in and saw them. It
was all so ironic that she didn't want to think about it.

“Ginny, it was just a kiss, it meant nothing.” Harry said evenly.

“Oh really? Then explain what just happened downstairs.” Hermione could envision her crossing
her arms.

“That… well… like they said, it must have gotten fixed.” He answered feebly.

Ginny laughed mockingly. “I was just talking about the mistletoe, Harry. I was talking about
they way you two were eye-shagging the shit out of each other.”

*We were not eye-shagging!* Hermione internally screamed.

“We were not eye-shagging!” Harry yelled.

*Thank you!* She thought with a sigh.

“Oh don't give me that bullshit!” Ginny screamed. “There's no use denying it!”

“Denying what, exactly?”

Ginny took a long pause. Hermione was waiting impatiently as she wanted to hear the answer to
that as well. What did they have to deny? It wasn't as if they were secretly shagging or
something. She inwardly laughed at that. Like she would sink so low as to shag her target. It was
bad enough that she genuinely liked him, but to shag him was something that was pretty much off
limits to dwell upon. If he ever wanted to shag her (which she had no doubt in her mind that he
did), she could easily pull away.

Ginny's quiet voice interrupted her thoughts and she once again pressed her ear against the
thin door and strained to hear it. “If you can't figure that out… I don't think this is
going to work.”

“What… what's not going to work?”

“Us” She said in a voice only just above a whisper.

There was a silence and Hermione didn't know whether to jump for joy or huddle up in a
nearby corner and cry.

“I just… I'm done.” She said in the same tone.

“Done?”

“Yes Harry, done.”

Another pause. “So what do we do now?”

“You can get out of my room and leave me alone.” She said smoothly, almost as if she was asking
him to go and get her a glass of water.

“Alright.”

Hermione heard footsteps and scrambled to get to the other side of the hallway at least to avoid
the door swinging into her. Her back collided with the wall just as the door to Ginny's room
opened and out stepped Harry, looking both exhausted and dejected. His gaze was focused on the
floor and Hermione thought that he might not notice her. If only she were that lucky.

His footsteps stopped he caught sight of her, haphazardly sprawled out against the opposing
wall, her dress flowing around her and her eyes locked on the floor. Their eyes met simultaneously
and it was as if there was an unspoken connection that allowed them to speak through their wide
orbs. Searching for a solution, digging for a way so that everyone would be happy that would have
no dire consequences. But who were they kidding? There was no way this could pan out that
didn't have someone getting hurt in the process. So there was an agreement between them in that
instant. If people didn't believe there was nothing going on between them, then there would be
nothing.

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had to see as little of each other as possible.

“I love her.” He said in a small mumble.

She nodded even though she thought otherwise, that she really didn't sympathize with him for
a second. But she had always been a good liar. “I understand.” It was liquid poison.

He sent her a small smile, trying to reassure her. It wasn't as if they were best friends or
anything. They had only known each other for a few months so after this whole ordeal, they could
continue normally. Or as close to normal as two people like them could get. It would all work out.
Harry would gain back Ginny's trust or find out what the hell she was on about and Hermione
would complete her mission with more ease. Simple. But if it was so simple, then why was there a
burning sensation in her chest? Was it a bad idea?

“See you around?”

“Yeah.”

At that moment a time bomb went off in both of their heads. How long would it take for this plan
to backfire on them? Only time would tell.

-->



15. The Unneeded Christmas Gift
-------------------------------



**A/N: Oh wow, thank you all sooooo much for your comments! I never thought that being sick
would go so well with you guys. Seriously, I thought I was going to get pitchforks thrown at me or
something. But, thankfully, that wasn't the case. You will be relieved to know that I'm
basically cured so no more pain-ridden nights for me!!! The updates, however, will be somewhat
scattered throughout the summertime, now that I have free time. I'll try to update in the same
time region, i.e. the beginning of the week. And hopefully, you guys won't mind a somewhat**
**scattered update regime. But, with all of this good news, comes something tragic. Okay, not that
tragic, but it affected** **me****. I got a review recently from an anonymous reader that
told me they thought I was portraying Hermione as too much of a whore and that they think Harry is
better off with Ginny. If any other of you feels this way, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make
her out that way. If you want to see my response to that review, just check out the review
page.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**The Unneeded Christmas Gift**

*BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!*

Hermione and Ginny were both jerked awake on Christmas morning with a loud noise that made their
eardrums throb and skin erupt in shivers. Quickly turning around to look for the source of the
noise, Hermione saw a small electric red blow horn floating in the middle of the room no bigger
than a snitch. She reached up to try and swipe it away but it moved quickly to the left and avoided
her hand. Growling, Hermione looked over at the clock. Five in the morning. This thing had woken
them up at five o'clock in the morning. Hermione considered herself to be a morning person and
she thought this was ridiculous. People were supposed to sleep in during break, not be woken up by
a miniscule blow horn for an alarm.

Ginny was in the same mood as Hermione as she groggily got up and walked to the door sleepily.
Hermione wondered vaguely why she was making such an effort to get out of the room when it was
clear that she was still well over half asleep. But, her question was put to rest as she threw open
the door and Fred and George came into few cupping their ears and obviously waiting for something.
*Of course this was their doing.* Hermione thought to herself with a grimace.

The blow horn immediately flew into George's hand and he pushed what looked to be a small
button on the bottom and it deflated in his palm like a balloon which he quickly pocketed. She saw
Ginny put a hand on her hip as the other supported her body against the doorframe. Hermione
feared—okay, hoped—that Ginny's hand would give out soon and she would collapse to the floor in
a heap. Fred's voice brought her out of her revere and its peppy tone made her even more
anxious to close the door.

“Happy Christmas!” He shouted loudly.

“Hope little Luther here didn't wake you from *ahem* any pleasant dreams.” George piped
up with a wink in Hermione's direction. She shot him an odd look in return, not really getting
why he was pointing his suggestion at her. Did she look like she dreamed? Especially about
*those* things? Disgusting.

“Why do you insist on waking us up? The presents aren't going anywhere.”

Fred and George shot each other a naughty glance, “How do *you* know?”

Ginny scoffed and Hermione suppressed a chuckle. The situation stopped being funny quickly as
their faces grew serious. She made a note to leave the room when someone opened a present from
them.

“Cut it out. Now please, take your little toy and get out so we can sleep.” Ginny said through
clenched teeth.

“Sorry little sis, no can do. “ George said, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Mum and Dad have been up since four getting Charlie settled in and said to have everyone down
by five for presents.” Fred continued.

Ginny glanced backward at Hermione for a second and looked back at the smirking twins. Sighing,
she leaned in and spoke in a wispy tone, “Is there coffee?”

“Three pots,” George said in an equally hushed voice.

“I'm in.” Ginny said as she pushed past Fred and George and bounded down the stairs in a
rush. Hermione didn't know how coffee could motivate a person so much. She was up, so she would
stay up. That's just the way her body worked.

She heard a pair of feet come closer to where she was sitting up and let her gaze float upward
to see Fred smiling down at her. He held out a hand, “Come on Sleeping Beauty, presents await you
downstairs.”

Hermione gave a look, “I don't think so.”

He frowned and leaned down so that his weight rested on his knees. “And why would you say
something like that?”

Hermione shrugged, “I've never been a big Christmas fan.”

Fred shot her a small smile, “Well that's about to change. You're in Weasley territory
now. Everyone who walks out of this house never wants to leave after Christmas Dinner.”

“Well I see the point in that but…” she trailed off.

“But what?”

Hermione sighed resolutely, “Nothing. Lead the way to the presents.”

Fred didn't look convinced but helped her up regardless and walked with her down the stairs
and into the living room that was already bursting with people in their pajamas holding mugs of hot
coffee and sorting through presents. Fleur seemed to be glowing in her all-white silk nightgown and
matching robe, looking around at the atmosphere and smiling every free moment she had. Hermione
made a point to find out what that was about later.

Fred led her over to sit between who she assumed to be Charlie and, to her horror, Harry.
Charlie was very stocky and clearly had the most freckles out of the bunch. She didn't think
that anyone could give Ron a run for his money, but was proven wrong. Props for Charlie.

It was too late to get up and move without getting noticed so she tried her best not to touch
him. Unfortunately, the couch wasn't going to allow her to do that. Their arms brushed and she
had to control the shivers that went up her arm and to her spine. She thought she saw Harry take a
sharp intake of breath but brushed it off and blamed the awkward situation that they were in. They
had been successfully ignoring each other the past few days and now it may all be for nothing.

“All right, is everybody here?” Mrs. Weasley asked from the kitchen archway. After the party,
Fred and George had elected to take down their Special Mischievous Mistletoe due to many more
couples being thrown about the room and causing damage to the shelves full of Mrs. Weasley's
records and knitting supplies.

“Yes mum, the last of them have finally arrived.” Bill said teasingly and Ginny stuck her tongue
out at her older brother.

“Perfect.” She clapped her hands and the presents that had been placed precariously under the
tree floated throughout the room and landed in front of whom they were addressed to.

Every member of the room got a thin box wrapped in red and white stripped paper and a matching
thin ribbon that Hermione could only assume to be the sweaters that Harry had told her about. Other
than that clone of a gift, Hermione was surprised to see an extra three presents set in front of
her.

“I think this year we'll go youngest to oldest, yeah?” Mrs. Weasley asked the room.

Moans and groans followed that statement except from Ginny who pumped her fist in the air in
triumph. She immediately set to open her presents by tearing the carefully wrapped gifts to shreds.
She opened the sweater first and Hermione got her first hint at what they looked like. Ginny's
was a light purple and she could see a large G sewn onto the front in a darker shade. It was
obviously hand-knit and Hermione finally saw why they held them in such high regards. They were
made exclusively for them and no one else could say that they had the exact same one. Ginny's
face erupted in a grin and she thanked her mother with sincerity.

Ginny had other small gifts from each of her older brothers; products wrapped in pink from Fred
and George's shop, authentic Romanian chocolate from Charlie, jewelry from Fleur and Bill, and
a set of new quills from Percy who had failed to make it. She unwrapped a package in light blue as
quickly as the others and stopped when she saw what was inside—a gold locket. Harry avoided
Ginny's eyes and shifted in his seat. Hermione could feel the tension in the air and wished
that it would go away. The last thing she wanted was to hear another heated argument.

Harry was next and his sweater was an emerald green that matched his eyes with a lighter green H
embroidered on the front. He also got similar gifts to Ginny's and a green package. Ginny had
gotten him a pair of silk red pajama pants and he sent a thankful smile in her direction.

Ron was after and his sweater was a maroon with a dark purple R on it. His presents consisted
mostly of sugary sweets and Quidditch supplies from his elder brothers. Hermione didn't want to
be next. She was afraid of what was inside the carefully wrapped packages at her feet. But, when
Ron opened his last box of Bertie Bott's, she knew she had to. Taking a deep intake of breath,
she started with the sweater and felt the soft yarn beneath her fingertips before she saw it.
Pulling it out of the box, she saw that it was a dark blue with a lighter blue H on the front.
Hermione looked over at where Mrs. Easley was sitting and thanked her sincerely.

“Oh, it's not a problem dear. Any friend of my children is family to me.” She said
sweetly.

Hermione blushed and placed the sweater back in the box and set it aside. Picking up the next
box, she unwrapped the bright yellow paper and opened the cube-shaped box. Inside was an assortment
of fudge and sweets and Hermione looked at the small tag inside. It read: *Happy Christmas! Your
mates, Harry and Ron.* Hermione looked over at Harry and said, “You didn't have to get me
anything, you know.”

“How did you know it was m—” Hermione shot him a look and he sighed, “I know, but I wanted
too.”

*There goes the “not acknowledging each other” plan.* Her mind whispered bitterly. Ignoring
her thoughts, she managed a quick, “Thank you.”

He smiled at her and nodded. She got back to her remaining gift quickly before her body had time
to react under his eyes. The next present was wrapped in a bright pink box and Hermione was afraid
to open it. Pink was a dreadful color and anything inside of that box couldn't be good. She had
to put her better judgment away, however, for the sake of appearance. Carefully, she tore off the
paper and opened the box, seeing, to her disgust, more pink. It was a variety of beauty products
from make-up to Sleekeazy's Hair Potion al organized in a wooden carrying case. Hermione picked
up the card on top and read: *To the only girl friend I have left. Happy Christmas! Love,
Ginny.*

Hermione looked over at the youngest Weasley with a raised eyebrow. She was already looking at
her, so there was no use trying to avoid the fact that she had given her a present. “I bought it a
few months ago.” She explained meekly, “Thought it would be nice to teach you how to use it one
day.”

Hermione snorted and set it aside, “Maybe in another lifetime.” She mumbled. Hermione had never
liked make-up and rarely wore it. The last time she remembered even purchasing the stuff was then
she was fourteen and had a ball to prepare for at the Malfoy Manor.

The last present puzzled her to an extent. She knew that none of the other Weasley clan ad
gotten her anything, as they had never met her before. So who would send her a Christmas present?
She really hoped Draco wasn't pulling something funny by sending her a pair of revealing
lingerie or something equally vulgar. Reluctantly, she picked up the gift examined it briefly. It
was a variety of different bright colors, all in random patterns that appeared to be hand-drawn.
Hermione tore off the odd wrapping and cardboard box to see a scarlet velvet case. Opening it, her
eyes widened as she saw a miniature gray curled horn, not unlike that of a unicorn. There was a tag
attached to it by a thin string and she read it silently to herself.

*This should bring you luck in your troubles. The nargles have done their part, now it's
time for you to do yours. Make sure to use it wisely, for it has been known to explode when you
touch it too long. -Luna*

Luna. Luna Lovegood had sent her a Christmas present—a present that looked like a horn that
belonged on the head of some unknown creature that has yet to be discovered. That girl sure knew
how to make an impact, she had to say. What exactly did she need luck in? There were no troubles,
not that she had any knowledge of anyway. Her mission was going just fine and her personal life
was… well, non-existent as of now, but that didn't really make much difference. Followers of
the Dark Lord don't have personal lives; the Dark Lord *is* their life. It was a miracle
that she had any knowledge about how to talk to people at all. But that wasn't the point; the
point was that her dreamy-eyed friend thought that she was having troubles. The fact that this was
bothering her was enough to drive her mad.

Unbeknownst to her, the presents had continues to unwrap after she had discovered Luna's
note and no one seemed to be paying any mind to her. That was probably for the best, because she
felt as though her mind was in the clouds. This must be what Luna felt like.

*What am I doing?! I'm dwelling on something that a crazy blonde wrote on a Christmas
card.—Well, you have a right to—What do you mean?—Well, it wasn't exactly spelled out for you,
so you have a right to wonder what the hell she meant—That's true. But I still shouldn't be
thinking about it this much—It's the most you've considered something that someone has told
you in your life, don't beat yourself up over it.—And why not?—Because you weren't
prepared. Simple as that. When you're not prepared for something,* *you think more about
it afterward. Just like that kiss.*

Hermione stopped her thoughts right there. She would *not* think about that kiss again. It
was bad enough that it hadn't left the topmost of her thoughts yet. But she didn't think
that this would last too long. It was only a phase. Every time she kissed someone, she would think
about it. Granted, it would only be for a good day, day and a half… but she had been expecting the
kiss. She felt her body relax. She had finally found the reason why she couldn't stop thinking
about Harry and their kiss! Spontaneity. It was so simple that she had to restrain herself from
running into the kitchen and placing her head into one of the cupboards and repeatedly slamming the
door against her head.

The last of the presents were opened within that moment and Hermione could vaguely hear Ron
asking when breakfast was going to be. Laughter rang out throughout the room and everyone made to
go to the kitchen and eat. Hermione stayed behind for a moment before joining them. It would all be
all right. It would all go away soon.

~*~

It was the day after new years and Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny were all in a small
compartment on the Hogwarts Express heading back to Hogwarts.

The goodbyes exchanged with the Weasley family had been anything but a simple hug and kiss on
the cheek. Hermione had been spun around in midair a record three times and given seven sloppy
kisses on each cheek. Every member of the family had told her to come back in the summertime and
spend a few weeks with them and Hermione lied through her teeth once more by saying that she would.
Of course, by that time, she would probably be on the Ministry's Most Wanted List.

The night before they were supposed to leave, Hermione found out why Fleur had had that look on
her face when she fist walked into the living room. She and Bill were expecting their first child.
Mrs. Weasley was ecstatic and literally jumped Bill in a monstrous hug, chiding him for not telling
him sooner. It was a happy time for the Weasley family and Hermione couldn't have felt more
out-of-place. Sure, these people were growing on her in ways that she feared they might, but they
were a family. A foreign group that she seldom saw, if at all. Growing up without a family can make
anyone feel awkward around others, even if they've had years to perfect a straight face. Even
though there was still a muddled feeling around the bunch of red heads, she couldn't help but
feel a small pull towards the Burrow.

Fred was right, after Christmas she didn't feel as strong of an urge to leave as she had at
first. But there was work to be done back at Hogwarts and she needed to get it done before… well…
before the Dark Lord contacted her and told her. She had a feeling that it was going to happen
soon. And although she was still focused on her end, there was a part of her that didn't want
this to some to an end. She was at school for the first time, she had friends, and she actually had
a life that didn't consist of casualties that piled up because of her talent with a wand. Her
wand was being used for charms and hexes that could really prepare her for becoming a better witch.
All good things come to an end.

“So Hermione how'd you like the Burrow?” Ron asked.

Hermione looked straight ahead into his blue eyes and nodded, “It was lovely, Ron.”

He sent her a smile and leaned back into his seat, “I still can't believe that Bill and
Fleur are having a kid, though.”

“Well they *are* married, Ron.” Harry said simply, “Married people have kids.”

“I know that.” Ron said sourly, “It's just weird is all.”

Ginny nodded, “I know how you feel. It seems like just yesterday that I still thought of Fleur
as a stuck up bimbo during the Triwizard Tournament and now she's having my brother's
baby.” Hermione snorted and Ginny snapped her head in her direction. “And what is so funny?”

“The whole situation is.” Hermione stated bluntly.

“I'm glad my family life is so humorous to you.” She said hotly.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but someone beat her to the punch.

“Cut it out Ginny.”

Ginny turned to Harry with a frustrated look, “Oh, so now you're defending her?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “You know I'm no—”

“Save it.” Ginny said coolly. “Just find another compartment when you want to shag each other,
alright?”

“Quit it, Ginny.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Oh come on you know you want to.”

Hermione looked over at Harry who let out a sigh and lean back into his seat. Ginny didn't
know a thing! She was sick and tired of her jealous attitude and sarcastic innuendos. It was best
to just ignore her. She felt her right hand twitch towards where her wand was being kept in her
right pocket. *Control yourself.* Her mind warned.

Ron leaned over to his sister and tried to speak in a hushed tone, “What's going on?”

Ginny, Harry, and Hermione answered simultaneously with a loud “Nothing.”

Ron puffed out his lips and slouched down, wishing he was anywhere but in that compartment.

He got his wish about a half an hour later when the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station. The
tiny, dark platform served as a haven as the tension lifted from the three teenagers plus Ron. They
grabbed their luggage and exited the train quickly, making their way towards the carriages at a
jog. The ride up to the school was silent, no one even attempting to create conversation. As they
approached the castle, Hermione felt a warm feeling spread throughout her body. She was home.

The dark horses came to a stop and Hermione pushed her way out of the carriage briskly, making a
beeline for her dormitory so she could get some rest. In the entrance hall she saw friends
exchanging hugs and telling each other about their holidays. She did her best not to create a scene
as she quickly moved past them and towards the stairs. Through the hustle and bustle of the crowd,
she didn't see the road block that she was about to hit in time to avoid it. She collided with
a muscular chest and nearly knocked them both over. Luckily for her, she had her luggage to lean
back on. She barely had time to glance upward when the tall figure pulled her down towards the
dungeons. No one noticed them make their way through the crowd and as they reached the dark
corridor, she let go of her trunk and slapped him in the face.

“*Never* do that again. You nearly pulled my arm out of the socket!” She rubbed her
shoulder tenderly and glared up at Draco.

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Had to get you to come down with me somehow.”

“You could have signaled me or something!” She scorned.

“I did.” He said blatantly, “But you were storming through everyone like someone was chasing
you.”

“I was anxious to get to bed, that's all.” She explained.

He crossed his arms, “Really.”

She scrunched her nose and looked at him with narrowed eyes, “Yes, really. Now what was so
important that you had to drag me t—he wants to talk to me again, doesn't he?”

Draco nodded, “Yep.”

Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair. She let it drop to her side and motioned to
the opposite end of the hallway, “Fine. Lead the way.”

He started walking ahead of her and she picked up her trunk and rolled it behind her as the two
of them made their way down the dark halls. The only sound as they walked was of the wheels making
contact with the stone floor. Hermione felt tiredness set in as they closed into their destination,
an empty classroom a hallway down from the potion's room. She hoped that this would be brief so
that she could get to bed.

Draco opened the door for her and she went inside, setting her trunk to rest against a desk leg.
She saw the stone basin atop the teacher's desk in the front of the room, emitting an eerie
blue glow. Stepping up to the desk, she leaned down and watched as her master's head appeared
in the liquid.

“Good evening, Hermione. I trust your holiday with the Weasley's went well?” he asked.

She didn't want to know how he found out about her stay with them during the break. “Oh yes,
perfect.”

“You think you're getting closer to Potter, then?” he asked eagerly.

“A little too close for comfort.” She answered honestly.

He emitted a chuckle, “Well I can't say I sympathize. It's tough associating with blood
traitors. I myself know I could never be capable of completing such a task. But you, my dear, are
really doing a superb job.”

“Is that the reason you keep contacting me, to tell me I'm doing a good job?” she asked.

“Of course not.”

“Then why?”

He gave her a look. It almost looked like he was either scrutinizing her or pitying her. “I have
my reasons.” Hermione opened her mouth but was cut short, “That are none of your concern. You just
keep pressing forward. And remember to never let his trust for you waver. Do whatever you have to
so that you can be his number one accomplice.”

Hermione nodded, “I will.”

His image faded into the basin and Hermione turned back to Draco, who was sitting atop a desk
and staring at her intently. “Why does he insist on checking up on me like I'm a
three-year-old?”

“He just wants to make sure that you're alright.”

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and turned around so he couldn't see her face
contort to listlessness, “He's not my father.”

“Mia…”

Hermione took a deep breath and turned back around. “I'm fine, Draco. I'll just go get
some sleep.”

He put a hand on her should her and gave a small squeeze, “Remember, I'm right here if you
need me.”

She nodded, “Yeah, I know. But I won't.”

“Right. You won't.”

She walked off and felt his eyes on her back. It was as if everyone thought she was a porcelain
doll that wasn't capable of doing anything. First the Dark Lord, and now Draco. She was fine,
she was doing fine. Harry trusted her. Now that he and Ginny were fighting and it was apparent that
they couldn't not talk to each other, her position was now set in stone. School was about to
start so Harry should be out of her thoughts by the end of next week.

*I'm* *fine.*

-->



16. A Change of Mind...
-----------------------



**A/N: Yes, yes I know… I'm late. It's summer, I have some AP work I need to focus on,
sue me. Sorry for coming off a bit bitchy but that's just how my mood is right now. It'll
probably go away by tomorrow—my brother's 14****th** **birthday. God help me.
There's also the fact that half of you think Hermione's a whore. Well, I'm not going to
bother to disclaim that anymore. If that's the way you interpreted it, so be it. A book I read
for my AP Language & Composition course told me that** **“t****he true writer always
plays to an audience of one”****. Not that I don't like suggestions, I adore them! This
really appeals to the comments dictating my style of writing and stuff of that sort. I do take
those seriously and try to apply them, but I can't just change the way I write. I'm content
with my writing style and if you don't like it, don't read it.**

**And to those who care,** **In Fair Hogwarts** **will be updated soon. I'll probably
start working on it tomorrow and hope to have it up a few days after that =]**

**Oh, and I have a new website up and running!!!! It has tons of cool stuff and a very pretty
layout, if I do say so myself. If you want to check it out here is the link:**
**http://www.addictedxdreamer.webs.com/**

**Disclaimer: JKR isn't me. Sorry.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**A Change of Mind…**

*She was in a dimly lit pub. The music was pumping out of the scattered speakers
throughout* *the walls plastered with posters of pin-ups from Playwizard and advertisements
for the latest kind of firewhisky**.* *In the middle, a few steps away from the bar, was
a cleared space of tiled floor.* *There were couples places precariously inside of it, moving
so close to the other it shouldn't even be considered dancing, more like trying to have sex
with their clothes on.* *The tiles moved along with the beat of the song, but the same
couldn't be said for the occupants of the dance floor.* *T**hey weren't even
moving to the beat of the song, which was a fast-paced one that someone might find in an
underground rave. But none of this mattered to her. All she knew was that she was horny and she
needed to* *find someone* *to assist her in sedating that awareness* *to a dull ache
rather than a pulsing throb in her lower abdomen.*

*She was sitting upon a tiny bar stool, scanning the pub for a victim. Unfortunately to the
oh-so-willing suitors that kept approaching her with corny come-on's she was very picky. But
once she saw something she liked, she went for it like a tigress and her prey. That is what they
were to her, prey. Poor, unfortunate souls wouldn't know what hit them. Draco didn't know
what she was up too, for all he knew she was out shopping for a new dress. Oh, she had bought a new
dress alright. But it couldn't really constitute as a dress when it barely reached her
mid-thigh and was tight enough that you might have thought it was a* *second* *skin if
you were placed at the right distance. That's what these slime balls liked, and that is what
she was going to feed them. Only then would she be in control.*

*A dark figure entered the bar and her attention snapped just as the door closed to announce
the newcomer.* *He was wearing a long black cloak that flowed behind him as he walked,
revealing a pair of black jeans and a dark grey jumper. It was clear that he was intending to be
inconspicuous, but failing miserably as he had caught her attention and perked her interest. He had
taken a seat a few down from hers and ordered a firewhisky in a deep, husky voice.*

*She had found her prey.*

*She turned her seat towards him and angled her legs so that one dangled lazily over the
other, trying to draw his attention to her. She pretended to* *be nonchalant when her mind was
commanding him to notice her so she didn't have to walk over to him.* *It was a waist of
energy if he wasn't willing to comply with her wishes.* *Twisting her neck to see if her
tactic was working, she was pleased to see his hooded face turned towards her. She threw a
seductive smile towards him and twiddled her fingers as a sort of wave. He seemed to be too
entranced to come up with a proper response and she smirked. Knowing that it would be pointless to
exchange formalities, she nodded towards the dance floor and he seemed to move his head in*
*confirmation that he understood**. She smiled as she walked over towards the middle of the
crowd and waited. Not even a minute later, the mysterious man* *made his way through the crowd
and she pointed a finger at him, motioning for him to come over. He complied and she wrapped her
arms carelessly around his neck, pulling him more firmly against her. In turn, he wrapped him hands
around her petite waist and began responding to the music.*

*Game, set, and match.*

*Unlike the others on the dance floor, their bodies moved in rhythm with the now steady beats
of music emitting from the speakers. She tried to get a good look at the man's face but he kept
on twisting about so that it would remain hidden. She furrowed her brows and huffed loudly, making
it apparent to him that she was frustrated. He chuckled deep in his chest and because of their
close proximity she could feel it vibrating against her own. There was something familiar about
that laugh, but she couldn't put her finger on it.* *If she knew this person, it would be
dangerous for her to be seen here. They could report back to someone who had the power to punish
her…*

*Before she could elaborate further, he twisted her so that her back was pressed up against
his chest. His hands remained delicately at her* *waist as she turned her hips and tried to
adjust to this new position. She was usually the one in control and yet* *she was letting*
*this stranger was* *lead* *her. Oh well, it was only a dance. At least that was*
*what* *she was trying to convince herself as the two of them finally found a rhythm with
their hips. He could sense the hesitation* *of her hips as the cogs in her brains started
functioning again to figure out who he was.*

*He lowered his lips to her ear* *and* *huskily whispered* *in the same tone he
had used to order his drink**, “Stop thinking so much, Hermione.”*

*She turned so that their position was changed back to the one they started with, never losing
their rhythm* *with the blaring music**. “How do you know my name?” she asked
dangerously.*

*He twirled her at arm's length and brought her back so that her back was turned to him
once again, both of their hands intertwined at her hips. He lowered his lips to her ear again,
“That's for me to know and you to moon over.”*

*She craned her neck to look up at him and placed one of her arms around his neck. To any
onlooker they would look as though they were about to kiss. “I th**ink you highly
underestimate me**”* *She purred, trying to scare him into revealing who he was.*

*He chuckled as he let one of his hands move further down her hips and towards her upper
thigh. She couldn't stop the shiver that wracked her body and made her eyes become hooded. “On
the contrary,” he said firmly as he traced a finger down her neck and made her mouth form a small
“O”, “**I think that* you *highly underestimate* me*.”*

*She calmed herself as he removed his finger from her now boiling skin. “Just who do you think
you are?”*

*He turned his head upwards slightly so that the shadows of his hood uplifted to reveal his
smug smile. “Who do you think I am?”*

*She didn't have the answer to that so she avoided his stare.* *Even though she
couldn't see his eyes, she could feel them burning a hole in her. This wasn't how it was
supposed to go. She was supposed to seduce him, ask him to her room and then send him off. It was
going to be a one-time thing just to try something new. But this… this…* prick *was ruining
everything! She just had to go for the mysterious one, didn't she? Stupid, stupid,
stupid.*

*“Hermione” he called breathily. She turned back to him and before she could react, his lips
were on hers. It wasn't forceful, but not to be confused with chaste either. He pulled back
before she could make the move to deepen it. Their noses bumped and she opened her eyes. Her eyes
met a pair of emerald orbs and she pulled back in a rush. He held onto her* *arm*
*tightly, not letting her get away. “Don't run away.” He said desperately* *as she
turned back to face him. They were a herd of two standing among a cluster of sweating
dancers.*

*Something about the way he said it made her stop struggling. “Harry…”*

*He nodded and caressed her* *cheek. She leaned into his touch and he cupped her chin to
make her look up at him. “You shouldn't be doing this.”*

*“Doing what?”*

*He looked at her meaningfully, “You know exactly what you're doing.”*

*She remained silent as she got his point. But then she looked up defiantly as her better
judgment began to settle in, “You can't tell me what I can and can't do!”*

*“You're right, only you can do that.” He said softly.*

*Harry then disentangled himself from her and she felt a cool breeze sweep over her. But
before she could complain, he lowered his head to hers and placed a quick kiss on the corner of her
lips. She wanted to move that fraction of an inch so she could feel his lips again, but she was
immobile.* *As soon as his lips left her skin, his image faded and she was left alone in the
middle of the dance floor, the couples around her blissfully ignorant of what* *had just taken
place**. She stood there and felt a flood of loneliness come over her; it was enough to make
her nose crinkle up as a tingling feeling appeared. It was only when she felt a lone tear escape
down her cheek that she pulled herself out of this nightmare.*

She gasped as consciousness settled in and her body shot upwards. She looked around and let her
body grow slack against her headboard. She was in her bed and not in the middle of a dance floor.
*The dream had been so real, though**,* She thought to herself. *Well, it was. At
least, at a time.*

In fact, it had almost been exactly like one of her trips to the pub near Malfoy Manor. Well,
more like one trip. Early in her “relationship” with Draco she had discovered a nearby pub called
“The Wizard's Broomstick” and figured that one person to shag wasn't healthy. It was normal
to want to experiment with others, right? Well, at the time she thought so. Everyone else around
her seemed to do it: Bellatrix, Narcissa, and pretty much every female Death Eater that she had
come to meet. And since she was well on her way to becoming one at the time, why not follow in
their footsteps? If that's what Death Eaters did, then she had to do it eventually. Her body
was her greatest weapon, willing to be manipulated at her every command. Finding a stranger and
using him for experimental purposes seemed to be a surefire way to train her self control. Of
course, the end product would also be quite beneficiary to sedate her other needs as well.

After that one night with a stranger, she knew that she was truly her greatest weapon. So, of
course, she milked it for all it was worth in the beginning; with Draco, and occasionally with a
pick-me-up at the local pub. But there came a point where she knew that it was pointless to be
selfish. She knew that after a while it wasn't about training her body, but rather sedating her
need for change. She had a perfectly fine life and should have been focusing on more important
things. So, she stopped her trips to “The Wizard's Broomstick”. But revisiting it in her dreams
reminded her of the empowerment she had felt… and then how quickly it was torn away when she
unmasked her mystery man.

It was the second time she had dreamt of Harry, the second time she had turned to mush around
him, and the first time that she felt completely helpless as he disappeared. She had thought living
with him was hard, what with the constant aches and pains that she felt while around him (she
really needed to figure out what those were). But living without him, even for a moment, felt as if
the world had come to an end. She couldn't move, and she became so numb that she didn't
even realize she was crying until she had jerked herself awake.

Unconsciously, she wiped her eyes to find that her palm came back wet. She threw off the covers
and rushed into the bathroom, checking her reflection. Staring back at her was a complete stranger.
Gone was the strong, confident, wise-beyond-her-years Hermione that she had taken so much time to
build. In her place was a puffy-eyed, weak young girl who was trying desperately to find her
purpose. It was times like these that she usually wanted to blow the nearest flammable object to
smithereens. But now, the weak part off her consumed her practiced habit and replaced it with the
need to cast a strong silencing charm and sob.

What was wrong with her—what had happened? Surely a single dream couldn't do this to her.
There must have been something building up inside of her that she was unaware of, something that
now had chosen to burst and consume her. But why now? She was in the middle of the most important
mission of her life. This mission was going to be the key to finally securing her place beside the
Dark Lord and ruling by his side as the world, both, Wizard and Muggle, succumbed to them. So why
did she feel as if she should have declined it? Was the mission the reason that she was going
through these changes—turning soft? Or, could it not be the mission, but the people to whom she was
assigned to befriend? The *person* she was assigned to befriend.

Shaking her head she stepped back out of the bathroom to check the clock. Seeing that it was
around the time she would usually awake to begin preparing for the day, she made her way to the
shower and allowed the steaming hot water wash over her and with it, calm her befuddled mind. These
few minutes under the wet beads would be her only escape for the day, for she had a feeling that
her mind would not rest until she found an answer to all of the questions swimming around in its
depths. She had to soak up these few minutes, cherish them, and try to keep them printed in her
head to dwell upon when her mind would choose to wander.

After her time expired, she stepped out of the shower and let the cool breeze of the outside
world wrap around her and drag her back into its dark clutches. Sighing, she dressed and grabbed
her book bag from beside her bed and shut the door just as the light flickered on and the chorus of
morning moans drifted throughout the room.

She wasn't surprised to see an empty common room awaiting her as she descended the stairs.
She didn't expect anything less after the way Christmas had gone. Truth be told, she felt sorry
for Ginny… and anger at herself for causing her pain. She didn't quite like this new feeling.
*Sympathy*. It really could put a downer on your morning. This new Hermione was really
starting to take toll on her. Oh, how she wished that it was only temporary; she didn't know if
she could take this much emotion in one day, let alone for the rest of her life. She was completely
content to being a heartless wench.

Down in the Great Hall wasn't much different. She went to take a seat across from Ginny only
to receive a cool glare and complete ignorance of her presence. Again, she expected nothing less.
This girl's heart was broken and it was all her fault. At least, from what she heard of their
shouting match those few days ago it was. The guilt was overwhelming but she knew that she could do
nor say anything to make the situation any less heavy. It had to end soon, anyways. How long could
one be bitter?

*You're one to talk—Shut up.*

Thankfully, Harry and Ron showed up sooner than expected with sleep deprivation written all over
their faces. Harry took a seat next to her and Ron next to his sister, who was playing with a
helping of eggs. It was an awkward silence as the group just sat there and for once, just ate. No
talking, no jokes, just eating. Ron seemed to be the only comfortable one there, although it was
clear he was just as tuned into the situation as everyone else. His way of avoiding it, however,
was stuffing his face much like he always did. At least there was one person who was acting normal.
If Ron ever stopped eating, there would be uproar.

Hermione's appetite for the school food was gone. She took small nibbles of toast once in a
while, but her stomach seemed to be weighed down with something else to be bothered with digesting
food. She reached for another piece of toast and her hand brushed against Harry's for an
instant, sending the now all too familiar lightening strike up her arm. She played it off as a
small twitch and pulled back with her second helping of toast. It was sad that she was now used to
the feelings that Harry made her feel. The more she became familiar with them, the more curious she
became as to what they were. Ginny had told her that they meant that she liked him. Well, now that
she acknowledged that and the feelings were still there, something else must be there as well. The
closest feeling she could compare them to was lust and she knew that she couldn't feel that for
him.

Could she?

“Hey Harry!”

Hermione snapped out of her revere to see Seamus standing next to Harry with a wide grin on his
face.

“Hey Seamus,” Harry greeted.

“Just wonderin' if the D.A. meatin' is still on for tonigh'?”

Through her dazed state of mind she could barely understand what he was saying through his thick
accent. She really needed to stop thinking so much.

Harry nodded, “Yep, same time and place as always.”

“Alright, see you then” he said, turning his back and walking back over to where he was sitting
before with Dean and Neville.

Truth be told, she had completely forgotten about the D.A. meeting today. It was the first day
back after break and her mind was still adjusting to the fact that she had class in fifteen
minutes. The last D.A. meeting hadn't gone so well, so it wasn't a surprise that she
didn't dwell upon it. Well, now she was going to have another chance to make a fool out of
herself. Great.

She decided it was time to leave and grabbed her book bag. Her first class was Arithmacy and she
knew that no one had taken that course besides her, so no one would jump to walk with her. Besides,
she liked being alone. It seemed as though that was the only thing that hadn't changed—her
desire to work alone. She had better hang onto it so that wouldn't disappear as well. The least
she could do was have one remnant of her former self. It was the most dominant part of her, so if
Draco decided to pull one of his stunts and nearly pull her arm out of its socket again, she would
remain unchanged and he wouldn't get suspicious. The last thing she needed was Draco on her
tail while she was going through an identity crisis.

~*~

The day seemed to go by in a daze, each class a blur of note-taking and lectures. Dinner was a
sweet relief from the plethora of new information that Hermione had packed into her brain. Her
appetite still hadn't changed, unfortunately, and all she could do was stare at the delectable
treacle tarts that seemed to be trying to persuade her to eat them… eat *something*. But she
couldn't. Why should she eat when there was a mystery that had to be solved? Forget food when
there were demons to be conquered!

The D.A. meeting was set to begin soon and Hermione decided that it was time to drop off her
work in the tower before making her way down to the Room of Requirement. So, without a second
thought otherwise, she sat up and left her seat and exited the Great Hall, glad that no one had
elected to walk with her. It seemed as though there was a mutual agreement between the four of
them: Don't push it. Don't tempt the thin lines between them, for they could collapse and
cause a new disaster altogether. The last thing Hermione needed was another reason to worry for the
sake of her mission. If she tested those lines, she was sure to blow it. Her work would be for
nothing, and she would surely be punished. Although the new Hermione seemed more nonchalant, the
old Hermione was still a faint whisper that was just loud enough to persuade her body towards not
committing what was sure to be considered suicide.

The common room was somewhat empty, with only a few of the younger students scattered about,
either working on homework or slacking off. She was a whisper of a presence as she disappeared up
the staircase to the girl's dormitories and re-appeared minutes later. They were all so
consumed with their own lives that they didn't notice the ghost of a girl seemingly glide right
past them. But could she really blame them? They needed distractions in times like these.

*Whoa, where had that come from?*

Hermione stiffened as she turned to observe a pair of what looked to be second years playing a
game of exploding snap. Half of her was repeating what she had just thought, while the other was
screaming *“How could they be playing a foolish game like that when they should be
training?!**”* She knew that was all she did at their age. She had been brought up by daily
training routines with Draco and never once had played a game like exploding snap. That was when
the third voice appeared, one sounding much like her own: *You're jealous. These kids have
the opportunity to have fun when you had none. They can be carefree, laugh, and do whatever they
please because… well, they're kids. Normal kids that have so much and it could all be taken
away so easily.*

It was the first time that she really let it all sink in. Jealousy. It wasn't the burning
jealousy she knew to exist, but the jealousy in which you longed to have what others did. In this
case, a sense of normalcy. It was foreign, scary, and eye-opening. This emotion didn't seem as
dangerous as she originally thought. From what she had heard, jealousy was an ugly sense that made
you want to burn the person you were feeling it towards alive. All jealousy did for her was cause a
dull ache in her chest. Not like the ones she felt around Harry, but more tugging towards the two
second years and their innocent game. It made her feel alive—human. She let a faint smile grace her
lips as she exited through the portrait hole, in a much better mood than only minutes before.

As she reached the Room of Requirement and walked down the hall three times, she couldn't
help but feel more confident about the meeting. Sure, she had made a complete idiot of herself last
time, but she could still rise above that easily. She was Hermione Granger, tough ass Death Eater
who could do anything she put her mind to! Funny how it took a bout of jealousy to figure it out.
She could feel a tinkle of the old Hermione return, the part that held her confidence. She opened
the door with a smug smile and saw that everyone was gathering in the far right hand corner. She
jogged over and sat down just in time to see Harry stand up and address everyone.

“Hello everyone, I hope you all had a pleasant holiday. I thought that we could use today to
review Patronus Charms. I know we have covered them once before, but I figured because of the
recent holiday, your Patronus's should be much stronger than the last time we released them.”
He sent a small smile to the crowd of people and a few heads bowed down, blushes filling their
cheeks. “Now, for those of you who are new to the Patronus Charms, they are really quite simple.
All you have to do is think of the happiest memory you have and recite the spell *Expecto
Patronum*. It's not as easy as it sounds, so don't be disappointed if you can't get
it on your first try. The memory has to be very strong, the strongest you can think of. I'll be
around to help those who need it.”

Everyone dispersed and Hermione was left in a frozen state. She didn't really know what her
happiest moment was. Hoisting herself up, she walked toward a secluded corner where she was far off
from any onlookers and leaned against it. Bending her head towards the ground, she tried to think
of a happy moment to use for the backing force of her Patronus Charm. She had plenty of happy
memories, but which to choose? After a quick scan she decided on her sixteenth birthday—her first
time. Draco's first bout of trying to be a romantic and failing miserably. The thought still
made her laugh and so she pushed it into the forefront of her mind as she recited the spell
briskly. “*Expecto Patronum!*”

She saw a bit of white dust emit from the tip of her wand before quickly disappearing. She
guessed that that wasn't exactly what a Patronus was supposed to look like. Huffing, she tried
reciting the spell again, the same memory in her head and the same result coming from her wand.
Becoming frustrated, she tried the spell a final time, raising her voice in volume. Still nothing
but a small spurt of dust. Hermione was never someone to give up on something without trying her
hardest beforehand. So, for a grueling two hours that's all she did; try and try and try
again.

She had just finished what was sure to be her two-hundredth attempt when the sound of footsteps
broke her concentration. Spinning around, she came face-to-face with a pair of emerald eyes for the
second time in recent memory. Her heart leapt up in her chest and she did her best to control her
breathing as he opened his mouth to speak in a gentle tone.

“Have you been practicing that for the whole meeting?”

She nodded in conformation and surprise washed over his face. “What?” she asked.

“The meeting ended twenty minutes ago, Hermione.”

Surely enough, as she let her eyes travel behind him, the room was vacant. She let her head
shake a little in disbelief as she met her eyes with his again. “Wow, don't I feel like a
dolt….”

He shook his head, “You're not a dolt. It took me a fair amount of times to get it
right.”

“I don't think two hundred constitutes as a fair amount of times.” She said bitterly.

“*Two hundred**—*well that's… umm… wow.”

She nodded shortly, turning her head to the ground, “Exactly. I think I've come to terms
with the fact that this charm is more of a curse.”

“Don't say that.” He said, reaching out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. The
pressure sent a strange feeling of comfort throughout her body and she lifted her downturned head.
He did a quick scan of the room around them and gave her a small smile. “Listen, since we're
out of time now… how about I help you out a bit?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like a private lesson. You and me in here trying to get a shiny Patronus out of that wand
of yours.”

“You… you'd really do that for me?” she asked, a warm feeling spreading throughout her
chest.

“Yeah,” He said with a nod. “I've done it plenty of times with Neville and a few
others.”

“Oh” she said softly, the warmth quickly dropping down a few degrees.

“So are you up for it?”

“Sure. I could really use the help.”

He removed his arm from her shoulder with a small pat. “Great. How does this Thursday night
sound, around seven?”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Alright then. Do you want me to walk with you up to the tower?” he asked, jerking a thumb
behind him towards the exit.

“No, that's fine. I'll stay here for a few minutes and get some more practice in.”

He nodded and turned to leave. She kept her eyes on him up until he shut the door behind him.
The sound that the door made echoed throughout the empty room as Hermione made her way over to it
and slumped against the cool wood. She felt the tingling sensation in her nose again and her eyes
began to blink repeatedly. The new Hermione was turning her into a sap. She vaguely wondered if the
private lesson was a good idea now that her strength was quickly dissipating. Where did the old
Hermione go to, anyway? What caused her to leave in the first place? The answers seemed so far
away. She could really use her in a time like this.

Little did she know that her answer was sitting on the other side of the wall, banging his head
repeatedly against the cool stone where the door one appeared.

-->



17. ...A Change of Heart
------------------------



**A/N: Overall, I would say two updates for two different stories in a week isn't too
shabby, how abo****ut you? This chapter is one of four** **of what I like to call the**
**“****special” chapters.** **This one and the other t****hree** **are the first**
**four** **scenes that came** **to mind when I first got the idea for this story. You've
already read the first one: Mission Possible. I can tell you another one is the one where Harry
finally finds out who Hermione really is. A lot of you have been expressing your ideas of how
it's going to happen. It's ridiculous how creative you guys are! But I've had the scene
in my head for a long time and I can't reveal how it's going to happen until we get there.
You guys only have a few more chapters to wait =]**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. Hermione Granger isn't mine. But all of their
hot sex is.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**...****A Change of Heart**

Thursday came quicker than Hermione anticipated. She was excited, yes, but there was still that
slight tug in her stomach while she was around Harry that she had to worry about. What if he saw
through her and started asking questions? He was about as stubborn as she was so there was no
escaping one of his question tirades. She had to make sure that her walls were up full time and at
their strongest or else risk exposure of emotions. Emotions were a new concept to her and she
didn't want them to come spilling out around Harry. *Especially* around Harry.

Classes went by normally. She learned a few new charms that she thought weren't worth much.
She really questioned the curriculum here sometimes. She expected a challenge and instead was top
of her class. It was an accomplishment, obviously, and she didn't overlook it as breezily as
she would have normally. When she found out, her face turned red and she wanted to scream out in
joy. She quickly realized, however, that the rest of her class, save for Harry and some Hufflepuff
named Terry Boot, were slackers and her accomplishment was really moot. Still, she took pride in
being the smartest witch in her class. It made her have good days when she found the hands of
depression and loneliness try to lure her into their clutches. Who knew that changing personalities
could have so many negative affects?

She was set to meet Harry at seven and it was already six-thirty. She was currently in
Gryffindor Tower, finishing up her Potions essay. Snape had yet to not assign them homework since
day one. She never liked him when he loomed around the Riddle Manor and now that he was her
professor, her opinion remained unchanged. When people started filing into the common room after
dinner in bunches (she skipped in order to finish up on her essay), her attention snapped to the
clock and she thought that it was about time she left.

Making sure her wand was secure in her pocket, she made her way out of the tower. She had to
push a few people aside, muttering petty apologies and *excuse me*'s she knew they
didn't care about. The halls were still littered with the occasional snogging couple and groups
of gossipers as she made her way through. Her stomach began to clench and she wasn't even
around Harry yet. As she approached the Room of Requirement she concluded that it wasn't Harry
at all that was making her feel this way; she was getting excited. Excited and scared. Why must
emotions all feel so similar? It was a real strain on the mind.

She concentrated on Harry's lesson as she walked three times along the deserted hallway and
watched as the door appeared in front of her. Would it be pathetic if she said that Hogwarts and
its secrets still ceased to astound her? Well she thought so, so there was no use in trying to
express it otherwise. She grasped the brass handle and took a deep intake of breath. She could do
this. It was only a simple lesson. She was going to learn how to conjure a Patronus. That was
all.

Pushing open the door slowly, a warm breeze blew past her and she let her body relax. As she
stepped into the room she saw that it looked similar to the way that it did for D.A. meetings,
except equipped for two instead of, say, fifty. There was a single mahogany bookcase, two bean bag
chairs, a fireplace, and candles floating near the ceiling. It was a very warm environment and she
let herself fall into one of the bean bag chairs. It sagged with her weight and she tried to get
comfortable, wiggling around for a good minute. That was put on a hold, however, when the door
creaked open behind her. Her head twisted backwards and she saw Harry smiling at her. Her stomach
dropped.

“I see you beat me here.” He said as he closed the door behind him.

“Not my fault you're slow.” She replied quickly. Oh how she loved her wit. Even when she was
in distress, she still found a quick reply ready in the back of her mind. She really was too
lucky.

He chuckled and walked over to her. She tried to calm her churning stomach with no avail. He
took a seat beside her. “Now, I think we should skip the formalities and get straight to
business.”

“Agreed.” She didn't feel like straining her walls.

“So,” He started as he rubbed his hands together, “What seems to be the problem?”

“I can't conjure a Patronus.” She said blatantly.

He chuckled again, “I know that part. I meant why can't you conjure one?”

She shrugged, “I don't know, I thought you could tell me.”

“Well let's see here… you came up with a memory, correct?” She nodded. “You recited the
incantation with that memory in mind?” She nodded again and he blew out a puff of air. “Show
me.”

She winced, “Are you sure you want to see my piteous excuse of a Patronus?”

“No.” He responded honestly, “But I can't help you if I can't deduct what's
wrong.”

“Right.” She knew she didn't have much choice in the matter so she lifted herself up.

“Aim for that bookcase.” He instructed.

She aimed her wand for the bookcase parallel to her and took a deep intake of breath. She let
the memory of her sixteenth birthday float into the forefront of her mind and leveled herself.
“*Expecto Patronum!*” She chanted strongly. Nothing but a wimpy puff of white smoke came out
of the tip of her wand. She turned slowly to Harry, expecting to see him laughing. She was
surprised to see him instead looking at her with his eyes narrowed and his chin gripped in-between
his thumb and pointer finger. He was calculating her.

He took a moment before answering. “You have the same problem I had, but you just didn't
have anyone to tell you. A corner isn't the best place to practice defensive magic when you
have plenty of people around you to help…” She averted his eyes. “You don't have a strong
enough memory.”

Her head snapped up, “My memory is perfectly fine!”

He stood up, “Obviously not. You need to think of the happiest moment you can remember,
Hermione. The first memory I chose was the first time I rode a broom.”

“That's a good one.”

“Yes, but not good *enough*. It might be the happiest memory for some people, but not for
me. I had happier moment in my life that I could choose.”

Hermione nodded in understanding. “Problem is that I don't really have a whole lot to choose
from.”

“Why's that?” he asked.

She contemplated if she should tell him or not. The actual truth was completely out of the
question, obviously, but she could still tell him a clipped version. He was there to help her, not
criticize her. The old Hermione was screaming at her to stop, but the new Hermione pushed her aside
and told her to do it. So she did. “I didn't exactly grow up in a happy environment. My parents
died when I was really young and my… foster father pressured me to always be the best. He
wouldn't send me to a real school because he wanted to teach me himself. He's a fantastic
teacher, don't get me wrong. But he is very adamant that I have to be perfect or bust. It
wasn't until this year that he suddenly changed his mind and sent me here.”

“I'm sorry about your parents.” He said consolingly.

“It's alright. I didn't know them.”

“That's what I kept telling myself whenever someone told me they were sorry about me losing
my parents.” Hermione lifted her head to look him in the eyes. She had forgotten for a moment that
he had the same experience as she, though with much more dire consequences. “But there came a time
when I knew that I had to let it all out.”

“I've already done that.” She admitted. “Some days I would just lock myself in my room and
cry… I didn't know why, but I just did. Look at me. You must think I'm a total sap.”

He shook his head, “Not at all.” He stepped closer to her and she felt her breath catch as he
placed a hand on her shoulder, “I did the same thing. Don't think you're alone, Hermione.
You'll never be alone. Not as long as I'm here.”

*Yeah, but that won't be for much longer.* The old Hermione snapped.

“Think about something else. I know that there must be something in your past that could fuel
the energy needed for your Patronus. If I could find one, you can too.” He removed his arm and gave
her space to think.

She took the silence as an opportunity to think. Moving over to a nearby wall, she leaned
against it and let her mind begin to work. She could never once in her life remember ever being
happy. It was a melancholy thing to think of herself, but it was true. Even when she took pleasure
in her raids, in kicking Draco's ass while dueling him, she knew that she was never happy. It
was only brief ecstasy that quickly wore off. A small part of her knew when she chose the memory of
her sixteenth birthday it wouldn't work. Sure, losing her virginity was a landmark and she felt
relieved that it finally happened. But relief wasn't happiness. She let her mind wander to
Christmas—to the kiss she and Harry shared. It was dangerous territory to tread while he was so
near, but she was willing to take the chance. She remembered turning to mush and then feeling empty
as he pulled away. Truth be told, she was too confused about how much he affected her to be happy.
No, she couldn't use that memory.

The Riddle Manor was the polar opposite of happiness, so anything she did in there was doomed to
be dismal, same with the Malfoy Mansion, too many formal parties and cruel treatment to even be
associated with happiness. It was then that it hit her.

“I've got it!” she exclaimed.

“Excellent!” Harry said, “Now try it out again.”

She nodded and turned towards the bookcase. Aiming her wand just right she let the memory of her
carriage pulling up to Hogwarts fill her mind. The joy she had felt when she first saw the tall,
dark towers of the castle was unlike anything she had ever felt in her life. If that wasn't a
happy memory, she didn't know what happy was. “*Expecto Patronum!*” She shouted.

Opening her eyes quickly, she saw a large cloud of white smoke emit from her want and she turned
to Harry with a wide grin on her face. He returned her smile and the smoke disappeared. She
couldn't believe it! She had come farther than she ever thought possible! She looked at her
wand fondly; still unable to grasp that the white smoke had come out of it. She was too bust
staring at it, lost in thought, that she didn't hear Harry come up next to her.

“That was impressive.”

She jumped when she heard his voice and saw him looking at her with pleasure in his eyes. “Thank
you! I—I didn't think I could do that!”

He smiled, “Well you did. I told you that you could.” She let a shy smile grace her lips and he
paused for a moment. “Do you… do you mind if I try something?”

“No.” She replied quickly, “Anything.”

He nodded. “Turn back around like you're going to conjure the Patronus again.”

She complied and stood ready, preparing her memory again. She did not, however, expect Harry to
come to stand *very* close to her, his chest pressed up against her back. “W-what are you
doing?”

“I'm trying to see if I can get my magic to bond with yours to form a full-blown Patronus,
one that actually takes the form of an animal.” He explained. Though he seemed confident, she could
sense a slight shakiness to his voice. She wondered if he was experiencing the tingles that were
slowly moving throughout her body too.

“Oh… okay.”

He pressed more firmly against her back and felt his hand cover hers. He was also holding his
wand, so it was trapped between his palm and the outer part of her hand. She suppressed a deep
breath as their hands touched, trying to make it seem like he wasn't affecting her the way that
he most definitely was. Unfortunately, the pent up breath was too much to contain and it came out
in a gush.

He felt it and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Do you trust me?”

She nodded, “Yes.”

“On the count of three, we say the incantation, alright?” He took her silence as confirmation
and began the countdown. “One… two… *three!*”

“*EXPECTO PATRONUM!*” They shouted in unison.

Whatever Hermione was expecting, it wasn't what happened next. She felt a jolt of magic flow
through her coming from Harry. How she knew it was coming from him was a mystery, but she just
*knew* that they were somehow connected at that moment. The magic was building up in their
wands and a bright silvery light protruded from them, causing their eyes to close from the
intensity. It felt as though a gust of wind was circling around them, blowing her hair slightly
askew and she worried that it might have hit Harry in the face. They re-opened them only when they
felt that whatever had erupted from their wands leave and let their jaws drop at the sight in front
of them. A ghostly figure of a stag and an otter were gallivanting around the room, circling around
their conjurers and playing with the other. It was a truly beautiful sight to behold and the two of
them had their eyes glued to it.

After what seemed to be an eternity, they both let out a breathy “Wow.”

“That was…” Hermione started.

“Incredible.”

Neither was aware that their hands were still wrapped up together.

Hermione wanted to thank him. She had never felt happier then she was at this moment. Whether it
was because she was so close to him, she wasn't sure. But she needed to thank him. Inclining
her head to the right to try and look in his eyes, she found him already looking at her intensely.
Her thanks died in her throat as the two of them simply stared at each other. She knew that this
was starting to get dangerous and she should pull away, but something was drawing her closer, or
rather, Harry's face was inclining closer to her, hypnotizing her not to move. One moment she
saw his warm emerald eyes staring at her, the next, her vision went dark as she closed her eyes and
let Harry's lips descend on hers.

The moment when their lips connected was so intense that they dropped their wands. They
didn't hear them clash on the floor, for they were too absorbed in the other to notice.
Hermione's right hand came to grasp that nape of Harry's neck to secure his lips to her
own, as if he needed further reason to stay there. His hand came to wrap around her waist to turn
her so that they were facing each other instead of craning their necks to keep their lips attached.
Hermione's other arm automatically went to wrap around his neck and his around her waist. The
kiss intensified and she felt the warm velvet of his tongue test the barrier of her mouth, asking
for entry. It was a surprise to her that he was this tender, asking for permission instead of
plunging in. But she didn't think about it too long, because the moment their tongues collided,
her mind went blissfully blank.

They were in the middle of a deserted room with two smoky woodland creatures circling around
them, seeming to grow in brightness the longer they stayed wrapped up in the other. Hermione let
her fingers bury themselves in his ebony locks and marveled at the smoothness of it. The moment he
felt her fingers in his hair, he let his hands begin to caress her slim waist and she moaned into
his mouth, reacting instantly to his warm touch. The vibration caused a similar, more masculine
reaction from him and it was then Hermione realized how much she felt a desire for him. And as
delicately as the kiss began, she pulled away. The smack of lips sounded throughout the vacant room
and brought her back to earth. Feelings she couldn't explain came rushing through her and there
was only one thing that was clear: She had to run. If what she was feeling at this moment was what
she thought it was, she had to get out. Now.

She disentangled herself from him quickly, bending down to get her wand and not meeting his
eyes. He knew what she was about to do and tried to stop her, his voice pleading. “Hermione please,
*please* don't go.”

She hadn't realized she had been crying until a lone tear made its way down her cheek. That
seemed to be happening too often to her liking. She turned to Harry, her wand now secure in her
pocket and saw the heartbroken look on his face. It was enough to make her second guess her motive
to leave. But she knew she had to. “Harry, I can't—I can't do this… its wrong.”

“What's so wrong about it?” he asked desperately.

She bit her lip, “So many things…” He opened his mouth, probably to ask why, but she stopped
him. “Please just leave it be.”

She could see his eyes begin to get wet with tears and knew that she had to leave before she let
him get a hold of her. He was going to die! He was going to be killed and she was supposed to help.
She couldn't feel this way towards him, be kissing him, doing anything but staying his close
friend.

“I can't do that, Hermione, I—”

“Don't.” she interrupted. “Don't say it. I want to be your friend… noth-nothing more.”
It was all lies! But she had to lie, lie to protect him from getting hurt. She should at least make
sure he was happy before he died. She couldn't make him happy like this.

She brushed past him and walked quickly to the door, wiping her tear-stained cheeks. “Hermione
please… please…” She ignored his calls and closed the door behind her.

There was a small urge within her to run, but she resisted it. Somehow she knew that he
wouldn't follow her so her pace was slow as she walked the deserted halls. She tried her best
to not let her mind wander, but that was easier said than done. She tried to distract herself by
observing the portraits as she passed them. Her distraction failed after no more than a minute,
when she felt a fresh well of tears build up in her eyes. Oh, how she wanted to turn around and
jump back into his arms. But she knew that she couldn't. He was her enemy, and they would both
perish if the wrong ears got wind of it. She wiped the tears away from her eyes and sniffed.
*Pull yourself together!* Her mind screamed.

She turned a corner near a hall filled with empty classrooms and felt her shoulders being tugged
into one before she could even make out the end of the hallway. The door slammed shut behind them
as they stumbled into the dark room. She didn't bother panicking. It wasn't as if she
didn't know who was responsible. Fumbling to straighten her composure to the best of her
ability, she turned slowly to Draco. If she looked like she had been crying, he didn't
acknowledge it. There were no words as he extended an arm to the glowing basin. She inhaled a large
intake of breath and walked towards it. Her footfalls echoed loudly throughout the small classroom
and she did her best to contain a shiver. She had never been this nervous facing her master before.
Granted, she had never been shoved to talk to him after kissing his arch nemesis, either.

Placing her arms on either side of the basin, she looked down into the liquid to see his face
already formed in front of her. “Good evening, Hermione.”

“Good evening, my Lord.” She responded curtly.

“First off, I would like to say you are doing a stupendous job.” He said with a small smile, “A
few of my peers have told me how close you have gotten to the Potter boy. Well done, my dear, well
done.”

“Thank you sir,” She said, containing a stutter that was threatening to pierce her.

“Now, to the reason I called you here. It's not for a check-up this time.” Hermione's
interest perked and she leaned closer unconsciously. “We are getting ready to move in. Soon we will
be inside Hogwarts grounds. I expect you to be on your guard and stick close to the boy at all
times. In a few short days… we will rid the world of Harry Potter.”

Hermione's breath caught and she choked out a feeble response. “Yes sir, I will be on my
guard.”

He nodded, “Good. Remember, don't let the boy out of your site.”

She managed a weak nod before his image disappeared. It was all too much. She bolted from the
classroom, ignoring Draco's calls. Blocking outside noises was quickly becoming her new forte.
She sprinted down the remaining halls and staircases, just wanting to get to her dormitory, cast a
*strong* silencing charm, and sob. A few days? She thought she had more time! More time to
think things though, more time to bury these new feelings for Harry, more time to figure out what
the feelings *were*. Her time was running out. She knew that her decision to walk out on Harry
was a bad one. But there was no use turning back now. She couldn't kiss him anyway. Not with
his life so close to being cut short. She had to let the old Hermione out. The new Hermione had too
many drawbacks and emotions to complicate things further. But as she arrived at the portrait hole
and caught her breath, she realized something.

The old Hermione was gone.

There were no ideas on how to get rid of these feelings for Harry, no hint as to what she should
do now. The dark, powerful, brave, witty part of her wasn't there. It was as though she had
faded into nothing. How could this have happened? Where had she lost the other half of her? It hit
her like a ton of bricks to the gut: The kiss. It had destroyed her. She wanted to mourn, wanted to
cry, wanted to tell someone and ask for advice. But she had no one. Her time was almost up and she
had no one. Her stronger half was now gone and there was nothing to help her get through what was
sure to be the most traumatic experience of her life.

Her posture sunk as she mumbled the password and entered the tower. It was virtually empty, save
for a few people scattered about in various nooks and crannies. She made a beeline towards the
girl's staircase, when she bumped into someone. Her neck craned upward to see Ron looking at
her with a lop-sided grin.

“Hey, Hermione” He greeted.

She stepped back a few inches, “Hi Ron.”

There was a long pause between the two of them. Ron shifted his weight from one foot to the
other nervously. “Hey umm… I was wondering if…” He trailed off. Hermione wasn't really paying
any mind to his mumblings as she felt another flood of tears begin to come. She looked over his
shoulder to see that she wasn't far from the staircase, maybe a good four feet.

“…with me?” Hermione saw his shoulders slump and that's when her eyes went back to him. She
had missed every word he had said. He was looking at her nervously, biting his lip and she could
see the faint trace of a blush forming.

“I'm sorry. I trailed off for a minute. Could you repeat that?” She said quickly. The tears
were coming faster and she didn't want anyone to see her cry.

He looked at her with wide eyes, fumbling with his words once again. She would feel sorry for
him if she wasn't in such a hurry to get to her dormitory. “Would you want to come to Hogsmeade
with me this weekend?”

He seemed proud that he finally got it out. Hermione, however, was less interested, as she felt
her vision begin to go cloudy. If she was going to say something, she had better say it quickly so
that she could make it. “Yeah, sure Ron,” she said hurriedly. And without another word, she brushed
past him and sprinted up the stairs.

She collapsed on her bed in a heap and cast a silencing charm. No sooner had she let the curse
fall from her lips that the tears began to far, and soon following, the sobs. She found herself
clutching one of her pillows and hugging it to her chest as she rocked back and forth. She gulped
in air every free moment she had, her chest hitching and her arms shaking. She had never cried this
hard in her entire life. The old Hermione knew that it was a waist of energy. But maybe there was
another reason she had never allowed herself to let loose like this. It felt horrible. She felt so
vulnerable; as though she were alone in an open forest, crying much as she was now with no one
there to help her. Save the forest it was the same pathetic picture that fueled more tears to
cascade down her cheeks.

How could she have been so stupid as to let her guard down? It was always there for a purpose.
And that purpose was so that she wouldn't get attached or worse, hurt. But now that her walls
were collapsed in a giant heap, there was nothing that she could do. She couldn't tell the Dark
Lord to call off the mission. What could she possibly say? “*Umm yeah…* *I have sort of
become somewhat* *attached Harry and now I don't really* *want him to die**. So
if you could just postpone the attack for, I don't know, another month or so? That'd be
great.*” Fat chance of that happening. She'd be dead and possibly Draco and Harry as well,
Draco simply because he was the main person who was supposed to be watching her and could have
easily prevented it from happening. Why had she been so adamant about steering clear of him? She
was so set on getting the mission done perfectly that she didn't consider the consequences.
Missions like this don't come without a risk of becoming too emotionally attached to the people
around them. Why had she even said yes to the mission in the first place? Oh yeah, because she
wanted to go to Hogwarts—because she was selfish.

It was her own damn fault she was in this mess, and now her target has become her friend—well,
possibly more than friend after tonight. They wouldn't get a chance anyway, so why define her
feelings? What was the point? He was going to die and she was going to help kill him. It was her
mission, her destiny. It didn't matter how much she cared, he was still going to die. The
outcome would never change. Harry Potter was doomed to a short life all because of love. His
mother's love for him had ultimately doomed him for a damned life. Love was useless.

*I**f love was useless, why is your heart still beating a thousand times per
minute?*

She groaned and collapsed onto her mattress, letting dreamland be her escape from this
treacherous castle.

-->



18. In Too Deep
---------------



**A/N: Well first off, sorry for disappointing you guys last chapter with the disclaimer.
Honestly, I was just trying to be clever but I guess it didn't work. The hot sex will come
very** **very** **soon****, trust me =] On another note, I need to ask a favor of you.
This is the third chapter I had envisioned when I thought up the story. So if/when you review
please be completely and brutally honest about what you think about it. I'm really nervous
about this chapter and need to know if I'm worrying about nothing, or need to start working
harder. Please and thank you! Oh, and a lot of you have been making comments about reading this
story to the right music out of coincidence and this time, I actually had a specific song in mind
when I envisioned this chapter! Towards the end (and I know that you'll figure out which part),
play the song “Hometown Glory” by Adele. Seriously, it is an amazing song and in my mind, fits
perfectly.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine and neither is his whore, Ginny. But if she**
**was** **mine… let's just say you wouldn't hear too much about her anymore.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**In Too Deep**

Hermione woke up with a massive headache early Saturday morning. She hadn't even bothered
getting up out of bed at her normal hour, knowing that it would only make it worse. It felt as
though someone was pounding a massive hammer into her skull repeatedly trying to break it open. She
was surprised that it hit her now rather than yesterday, when she cried herself to sleep. Yes,
Hermione Granger had fallen asleep crying. That morning had only resulted in a dry throat and puffy
eyes, but today knocked that day's start out of the pitch. She tried to remember any of
Friday's events that could possibly be the reason for her turmoil. It was then that it hit her:
Harry. She and Harry had basically treated each other like they were invisible. She had gone to bed
that night thinking of how miserable it made her not to talk to him. Of course it was Harry.

She was in deep shit.

The rest of her dorm mates had already gotten ready and when she heard complete silence she knew
that it was time to get up. It was bad enough that she was up late, but now she was completely
alone again. She took a small comfort in being surrounded by people now, even if they were asleep.
With Harry ignoring her and Ginny being her normal self, she really had no one to turn to. Alone
used to be her favorite getaway, but now she was begging for release. She needed friends, she
needed to laugh—she needed Harry.

After she finished cleaning up with a hot shower, her headache seemed to tone down to a dull
pounding. She padded down the stairs, something pulsing in the back of her head. It wasn't the
headache, but rather a small feeling that there was something about today that was important. She
had already finished all of her coursework so that couldn't be it. She didn't recall making
any plans with anyone. Not that anyone would want to spend time with her anyway. As far as they
knew she was either a whore or a heartless hag. It was all for the best, though.

She looked at the clock perched atop the fireplace and sighed. It was ten-thirty. She didn't
feel like eating breakfast, knowing that she would run into Harry there. She wanted to talk to him,
but knew that she couldn't. Not after what had happened. It might hurt her more to distance
herself then to actually talk to him, but her mind would never be at ease either way. He was her
friend, he was her enemy, but above all else, he was someone that she felt the wells of desire perk
up for more than anyone else. She wanted to be more than his friend and that scared her. She
didn't even want to elaborate more on her feelings, fearing the inevitable.

The couch began to look very inviting. She lay down in its fluffy depths and tried to get her
body to relax. Closing her eyes, she began to clear her mind, something she had learned from the
Dark Lord. Whenever she had something on her mind that she didn't want there, all she had to do
was clear her head and relax. Granted, she didn't have a pensive to permanently remove the
thoughts, but this was the next best thing. As soon as she felt her mind go blank, footsteps
interrupted her concentration. Her eyes shot open and she looked over the back of the couch. Ron
was walking down the stairs and she let out a breath of relief. But the feeling in the back of her
mind started going off again as he approached her. She sat up and smiled as he stood in front of
her.

“Ready to go?” He asked, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

Hermione's brow furrowed, “Go?”

“To Hogsmeade.”

It was then that it clicked. In order to get Ron off of her back, she had agreed to go to
Hogsmeade with him. In her vulnerable, emotional state, she had agreed to go on a date with Ron. Oh
Merlin. “Right… yeah. Yeah I'm ready to go.”

He smiled down at her and she returned it half-heartedly. She allowed him to escort her to the
carriages with a hand placed nervously on her back. Truth be told, she was nervous as well. This
was her first date. Well, if you didn't count the trips to the pub and sneaking around with
Draco. She didn't. They found an empty carriage and sat across from each other. Hermione shot
nervous glances at Ron and could sense that he was sending some her way as well. She didn't
know why she had agreed to this in the first place. She had little recollection of agreeing to the
date, so why didn't she just tell him that? Maybe there was a part of her that wanted to forget
Harry. Forget why she was thinking about him in the first place. Ron was a nice enough bloke, so
she should be able to enjoy herself. Right?

They arrived in Hogsmeade and Ron led her to The Three Broomsticks. She was thankful he chose
this place. It was a comfortable environment, so she didn't have to feel pressured. *See?*
She thought to herself, *This won't be so bad.*

They found a vacant booth and took their seats. Hermione smiled over at Ron, who was fidgeting
with the hem of his shirt. The waitress came over and asked for their order and Ron asked for two
butterbeers. He looked over at her for confirmation and she nodded. They were left alone and he
looked as though he was trying to find something to say. She figured that she should start the
conversation, it was the least she could do.

“So Ron, how are your classes going?” It was simple but effective.

“Fine.” He responded shortly.

Hermione nodded, “Have you been studying for your N.E.W.T.s?”

He snorted, “No.”

“Well you should. It's the most important test of your school career!”

“I'm too busy with Quidditch to worry about studying.” He said with a silly grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “And what makes Quidditch so much more important than studying?”

Ron looked at her as if she had grown another head. “Loads of things! First off, it's fun so
I can actually pay attention to what I am doing. Second, it…”

Hermione knew she shouldn't have, but at that moment, she tuned him out. She loved
Quidditch, but if she couldn't understand why it was more important than school, there was no
point in listening to him. Although she had to admire his passion for the sport. Harry was right.
If he was this passionate about his future career, she should respect it. Of course, Harry was
always right. In class, in life, in everything. But he wasn't in the cocky sort of way; he was
always right because he had to be right. If he wasn't, it could affect him in his future
battles. Oh great, now she was thinking about Harry. She was on a date with another guy and she
still couldn't stop thinking about Harry!

“…plus the fact that you get tons of birds.”

“You play Quidditch for the girls?”

“Weren't you listening to a thing I said? The birds are just an added bonus.”

“But they're a contributing factor?”

“Of course!”

She rolled her eyes just as their butterbeers were placed on the table. She took a sip from the
glass and licked her lips, removing any residue. At least one good thing was coming from this date.
The waitress stayed put and leaned down to address them again, “Is there anything else I can get
for you?”

Ron seemed in thought for a moment, “A ham sandwich with a side of crisps, please. Anything for
you, Hermione?”

“No, I'm fine.”

The waiter departed and Ron leaned over to her, “What do you have against Quidditch?”

“Nothing. I love Quidditch. I just don't see how people can hold it above their
studies.”

“It's really quite simple all you have to do is…” He trailed off, looking behind her, a grin
forming. “Hey Harry!” he yelled, waving his arm.

Hermione turned around in her seat and saw Harry staring at her. She felt like crying when she
got a good look at his face. He looked heartbroken, just like when she had walked away. His mouth
was agape and he turned to leave as soon as their eyes made contact. He pushed past groups of
incoming customers and stormed out the door. It was as if he were moving in slow motion, making her
chest hurt even more.

“What's got him in a mood?” Ron asked, clearly hurt that his friend didn't acknowledge
him.

“I… I…” Hermione tried to search for the best thing to say. “Have to go.”

“What?”

Clearly, that wasn't the best thing to say. “I'm sorry Ron. Can you excuse me for a
second?”

“Umm yeah, sure.”

Hermione walked quickly over to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She started to
breathe heavily and braced herself against the sink. Her vision began to go fuzzy and she felt
something begin to work its way up from her stomach. She forced it back down and tried to calm
herself. Looking up at her reflection she scowled and turned the tap on. Making sure the water was
cool beforehand she splashed it onto her face. She flinched at the temperature but it calmed her by
waking up her senses. Grabbing a towel, she ran it across her skin, picking up the scarce droplets.
She threw it to one side of the sink and bowed her head down. She had to pull herself together.
This was her first date and she was ruining it by letting someone else dictate her. She had to go
back out there and enjoy herself.

It was going to be hard but she had to do it. She had to enjoy herself for her own sake and for
Harry's. The less amount of time she saw him, the better they would both be. She would find a
way to save him. Yes, that was it. She would convince the Dark Lord to pull back and give Harry
more time to prepare. It was all for the best. Never mind how much she missed him, how much he
affected her, how heartbroken he looked when he saw her with Ron. He would understand one day. This
was all for him.

She looked once more in the mirror and saw that her face was clear. She exited the bathroom and
went back to sit across from Ron. He didn't bother asking questions. She could see in his eyes
that he knew where she had been, but not exactly what she had been doing. He was eating his order
of crisps and didn't look as though he was going to break the ice any time soon.

She needed to busy her mind, so she spoke up. “So tell me about yourself Ron. I know we've
had a lot of classes together and such, but I don't really know that much about you.”

“Well what do you want to know?”

“I don't know… umm… what's your favorite color?”

“Orange like the Cannons!” He replied excitedly. *Harry's is blue.* Hermione heard the
smug voice and tried to block it out. “What about yours?”

“Green.” She replied without thought. *Harry's eyes.*

“Green, why green?” Ron asked with interest.

“Cucumbers!”

“What?”

“I like… cucumbers…” *Oh good going, Granger. Like he's going to believe that!*

Ron nodded, “That's logical. I like mince pie.” *Oh wow,* *it worked.* Hermione
shook her head to the side to try and get rid of the voice, as though it were a bug in her ear. Ron
took this gesture differently. “You don't like mice pies?”

Figuring that she shouldn't dispute that*,* she came up with something else to say. “I
actually prefer shepherd.”

Ron nodded, “So does Harry.”

Hermione sucked in a breath. He just *had* to mention him. “He-he has good taste.”

He didn't seem to notice her stutter, “Oh yeah. He even gives me a run for my galleons
sometimes.”

“Really?” she commented half-heartedly. In all honestly, she wanted anything else but to talk
about Harry. If they did for too long, she would explode. If she sounded disinterested maybe he
would drop it.

“There was this one time when I thought that I could pick a fight with him about Muggle sweets
versus Wizards sweets. Of course he won when he shoved a—what was it?—a Mars bar down my throat.
I've never been the same since.” He chuckled at the memory.

“I've never had Muggle candy.” She mused.

“Well you're missing out! Hey, maybe I can talk Harry into getting you some.”

“No!” She replied quickly. When Ron gave her an odd look, she tried to save herself. “I mean I
don't want Harry to go to any trouble.”

“Nonsense.” Ron said, waving a hand about. “In fact, he would probably do it in a second if I
told him it was for you. He's really taken a liking to you Hermione. Sometimes I can't get
him to shut up. Actually, it was his constant raving about you that convinced me to take you out.
If figured anyone who can get Harry to talk non-stop about her is worth taking to The Three
Broomsticks.”

The air had left her lungs. She could feel herself growing pale. He had talked about her? He
liked her? Well, of course he liked her—but enough to talk about her to his best friend?

“Hermione are you alright? You look like you're about to vomit.”

She allowed her gaze to float upward to see Ron's bright blue eyes glowing with concern.
“I'm sorry Ron but I have to go.” She pushed her chair out and rushed to the door. As soon as
she started moving, she felt her lungs start flexing and her breaths become ragged again.

“Hermione?”

She heard him, but she didn't turn back. All she knew was that she had to get out of there
and fast. She pushed open the door and ran outside into the cool air. She didn't know where she
was running to but when she saw a few carriages pull up she made a quick decision. The further away
she was from Ron and his Harry-related comments, the better. She climbed into the nearest one and
slammed the door behind her, putting her head in her hands and calming herself. She felt the
carriage jerk and it began to move. As she left Hogsmeade behind her, she felt her shoulders slump
as relief washed over her.

“You're in love with him.”

Hermione's head shot up at the familiar dreamy voice. Luna had her face buried in an issue
of *The* *Quibbler;* her platinum locks pulled back in a long plait at the base of her
neck with little blinking beetle clips weaved throughout. If someone else was in the carriage, she
would have thought they had spoken up. She looked too enamored with her magazine to say anything
out loud. Especially something like that.

“Excuse me?”

Without looking up, Luna answered in the same voice. “You're in love with Harry.”

There went any thoughts that she was just daydreaming. “No I'm not.”

“Denying it won't make it any less true. Even if the truth hurts, you can do nothing but
accept it. Life might have its ups and downs, but if you spend too much time making up excuses for
the inevitable, you'll only end up hurting yourself. At least, that's what it says here…
you're a Virgo, right?”

“Umm I don't… what do you mean denying it? I'm not in love with Harry!”

For the first time, Luna lifted her head and Hermione felt as though her wide silver eyes were
probing into her soul. It made her feel quite uncomfortable and she squirmed a bit in her seat.
Looking at her pointedly, Luna lowered her voice an octave. “You and I both know that's not
true. Love isn't complicated, Hermione. Either you are in love or you aren't. And I can
tell by looking in your eyes that you are completely and irrevocably in love with him although you
fear admitting it because you want to protect him.”

“I…”

“Do yourself a favor and stop living in regret. Be selfish, be happy, but most of all just be.”
Luna ended by rolling up her magazine and pointing it at her almost accusingly. After her long
speech, she sat back in her seat and continued reading like nothing had happened.

Hermione was speechless. She slumped back into her seat and shook her head. Everything that Luna
had said made sense. She was selfish once, but selfish in a way that it was only benefitting the
Dark Lord. She had never been selfish for *her*. And as she thought about it another thing
became potently clear. She didn't know how, but somehow lust and desire had turned into
something more dangerous.

She was in love with her enemy.

The carriage came to a halt and Hermione was vaguely aware of Luna getting up and stepping out.
“Hermione.” She called.

Hermione lifted her head. Luna smiled, “Remember what I said. Happiness can always be found in
the depths of your heart. Follow your heart, Hermione.”

Hermione saw her retreat back to the castle and decided she should get a move on or she would
end up back in Hogsmeade. She walked towards the castle in a daze, her thoughts running rampant.
Most were along the lines of: *I'm in love with him. I am in deep shit. I could get killed. I
could get both of us killed. I'm a traitor. What will Draco think? Will anyone ever find out?
Will I let them? WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!*

The castle was virtually empty as she walked though the vacant halls. Even the younger years
were outside playing. Everyone had better things to do than to sulk around the castle like a ghoul.
In fact, even the ghosts that usually roamed the halls were absent. Apparently they had other
places to be as well on a Saturday. This didn't do much to lighten her mood. She felt alone
once again. Funny. Being in love was supposed to make you feel good—radiant even. But all it was
doing to her was making her more miserable. Instead of feeling complete, she felt empty; instead of
feeling alive, she felt like an Inferius. Love could go fuck itself.

She stopped for a moment and turned around. Seeing an empty hall behind her, she began walking
again. She could have sworn she heard footsteps behind her. But apparently she was going crazy as
well because there was no one behind her. Strange.

She arrived at the portrait hole and said the password to the fat lady who seemed to be
powdering her nose. Even the portraits were going up and about. It was lucky she caught her before
she left or else she would be stuck roaming the halls for the rest of her afternoon. As she climbed
up inside the hole and let the warmth of the common room envelop her she found it, like the rest of
the castle, empty. Sighing, she decided to catch up on some light reading. She went up to her
dormitory and rummaged in her trunk for a book she had recently checked out of the library, *101
Uses of Unicorn Blood in Love Potions.* She found it under her scarf and headed back downstairs
after kicking her shoes and socks off, intent on reading it by the fireplace.

When she got down there, she only had time to toss her book on the couch before the portrait
hole opened. She froze and wondered if she hid behind the couch maybe they wouldn't see her.
She didn't know why she wanted to hide. She was the one who was lonely, right? When the shadow
of the person came closer and Hermione finally got a good look at them, she knew why she wanted to
hide.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“I followed you.”

“You followed me? What are you, my stalker?”

“Listen Hermione I… I wanted to ask you… well…”

Hermione grew impatient, “What? Ask me what?”

He sensed her anger and looked up at her viciously, his green eyes blazing with internal flames.
“Hermione I know you felt something in that kiss!”

*Shit.* “What kiss?”

“Don't play coy with me, you know *exactly* what kiss!”

She needed to get out of here. Now. “I don't know what you're talking about.” She turned
her back and walked a few feet away from him until she felt a hand come down roughly on her
shoulder and turn her back around.

He was growing angrier. She was growing weaker at his touch. He removed his hand and looked at
her fiercely. “What game are you playing at? Do you take some sort of sick pleasure teasing
people?”

“Do *you* have to know everything about me?” She countered.

“No, I don't.” He admitted. “But I want to know. And what's more than that, I know
enough to see though your mask.”

“What mask?”

“You're façade. You're `Oh, I'm so mysterious. No one will ever get through to
me' Persona.” He said, mimicking her high pitched voice.

She was beginning to snap. “Well did you ever think that I put it up for a reason? That there
was a point to it?”

“Of course I did! But the fact that I have no idea what it is makes me mad!”

“You don't have to know everything about me. In fact, you know *nothing* about me.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes.”

He leaned closer to her, “Then tell me. Tell me that you felt absolutely nothing in that kiss
and I'll leave you alone. And don't bother lying.”

Hermione put on her best stony expression and leaned towards him, stopping a few inches from his
face and speaking in a voice no higher than a whisper. “*I felt nothing.*”

She pulled back and his face remained the same. “Really?”

“Yes! Now will you please just leave me alone?! Can't you get it through your thick skull
that we just can't be together?” She started to raise her voice, hoping that he would just
leave.

“No. No I can't.”

“But you just said that—”

“You're lying. I know you are.”

“And how do you figure that?” She asked dangerously, challenging him to a dangerous tango that
she knew might be her demise. But she didn't care.

He stepped towards her, leaving all but a few inches between their bodies. “You're saying
that if I kissed you right now you wouldn't feel a thing?”

She let her gaze flicker to his lips and quickly back up again. The temptation was deadly. “No,
not a thing.”

He raised an eyebrow and before she knew it, his lips were against hers. She didn't have
enough time to respond before he pulled away. He was testing her. And she was failing. But the
worst part was that she didn't care. He looked down at her and she didn't waste any time
wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him back to her. He seemed surprised, yet not so
much as he tested the barrier of her lips with his tongue. She allowed him in without another
thought. It was then that her mind finally realized: She was in too deep. She was being pulled
under his spell and there was no turning back. The kiss started out softly, testing the grounds.
But a well of pent up desire washed over them and soon they would not be able to control
themselves.

His hands came to rest at her hips and he led them against the nearest wall. Her back slammed
against the hard surface and a small breath came out her lips, disrupting her kiss. Harry
didn't miss a beat, sucking on the corner of her mouth to her cheek and back again, capturing
her mouth in another fiery kiss. She plunged her hands in his hair, missing how it felt beneath her
fingers. She felt one of his hands begin to trail down her leg and stop at her knee, pulling it up
to wrap around his waist so that the only thing that was in-between them was their clothes.
Hermione quickly wrapped her other leg around his waist and he pressed her further against the
wall, elevating her so they were the same height.

His mouth left hers and started to begin a trail of wet kisses down the column of her throat,
sucking and licking in all the right places. Hermione moaned at his ministrations and moved her
hands to his back, tracing the flexing muscles with her nimble fingers. She felt him shiver and he
assisted her in taking it off, only detaching his lips for a second. One of his hands began to
sneak its way under her top and she felt her body lurch at the feel of his hands on her skin. He
made delicate circles around her belly button and finally began to remove it. Their lips found each
other again and her bra was quickly discarded. The feel of bare skin-to-skin contact was enough to
undo her and she ground her hips into him, electing another masculine groan from deep within his
throat.

He detached once more from her mouth, only to turn them around and make his way up the stairs to
the boy's dormitory. Hermione took this time to plant butterfly kisses from his ear to his
shoulder, stopping there and sucking on it. It didn't take long for them to re-attach their
lips once he finished climbing up the stairs. He moved them blindly to the door at the end of the
hall, jiggling the handle as he pressed her up slightly against it. It opened and he stumbled
through it, finding his bed and laying her atop it. She saw him stare at her a moment before
hurriedly climbing on top of her and kissing the question out of her mouth. She decided to make a
bold move and sucked on his tongue as it probed her mouth. He jerked away for a moment before
moaning into her mouth. She grinned and flipped them over, straddling him.

His hands came to rest on her hips as she lowered herself and kissed her way from his throat
down his chest, planting small kisses on his muscular abdomen. She unbuckled his trousers and
pulled them off, knocking his shoes and socks off. He pulled her back up to kiss her passionately
and trailed his hand down her back. She helped him remove her jeans and as she was preparing to
wiggle on top of him again, he surprised her by flipping them over so that he was hovering over
her. He gave her a small smile as he leaned down and took one of her nipples in his mouth, making
her jerk up in response. He suckled on it and toyed with the other one using his fingers, never
leaving one neglected as he switched back and forth. She was writhing beneath him and was letting
out long moans and gasps as he continued work on her breasts. Her hand moved to the nape of his
neck as she pressed him harder against her. He stopped suddenly and exposed them to the cool air,
making Hermione let out a mew of protest. He didn't disappoint as he kissed her tenderly on the
lips and moved his hands to play with the band of her knickers. She thrust her hips up, begging him
to stop his teasing and he obliged by sliding them slowly down.

She didn't let him be the only one with clothing on for long as she pushed off his boxers
and let their bodies become flush against each other. There were no longer any barriers keeping
them apart. The two wasted no time and met each other in one smooth thrust. The feeling was
incredible as he moved inside her, slowly at first, but picking up the pace as she scratched her
nails down his back and move her hips with his. He began to kiss her neck again as their bodies
moved in rhythm, not wanting to miss the pants and moans being emitted from her throat. He looked
down at her and she saw the sweat accumulating at his brow. She pulled him down for a kiss and
their voices echoed throughout the vacant tower whenever they detached. Sounds of passion filled
the quiet dorm as they entangled themselves in one another. Hermione wrapped her legs around him,
allowing him to plunge deeper within her and make her walls clench. She felt something magnificent
build up within her as he kept on plunging inside her until finally, they both came. An array of
colors filled Hermione's vision as she screamed Harry's name just as he screamed hers.

He collapsed on top of her but she didn't mind. His body weight was strangely comforting on
top of her. She didn't have time to bask in it, though, as he rolled off of her to lie next to
her. Unconsciously, she turned over on her side and let him cup her from behind, feeling his
manhood press up against her. She felt a wave of tiredness wash over her as he eyes drifted close.
A blanket landed on top of them as Harry waved one of his hands before placing it back on
Hermione's waist, holding her snug against him.

She knew that there would be consequences in the morning. But she didn't care. All she knew
was that she was perfectly content being here in this moment. Let tomorrow come with its heavy
bearings. For now, she would lye here and sleep. And for once, she would dream of something
pleasant, or rather, someone. The same one who haunted her dreams was now being opened with open
arms.

-->



19. The Truth Comes Out
-----------------------



**A/N: Alright, this is the chapter most of you have been waiting for! You have all told me
your predictions and wishes and I hope that you won't be disappointed. This is the final
chapter I had envisioned when I first thought up the story and I like the turnout. It isn't**
**exactly** **perfect, but I don't think that my writing ever is. All in all, I think I got
my point across and that's enough for me.** **But keep in mind that** **THIS IS NOT THE
FINAL CHAPTER** **when you finish it. Originally, I had planned on ending the story here, but I
got inspiration from the weirdest place that convinced me to keep writing. For those curious souls,
I'll tell you: It was from re-watching Sailor Moon =]**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. I wish he was, but he isn't. Seriously. It
sucks.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**The Truth Comes Out**

She didn't know what time it was, nor did she care. When she felt the dull signs of
consciousness wash over her it was an understatement to say she was scared to feel herself pressed
against someone else's naked body. It took a few moments to remember just *who* she was
being held to and when she did, she let a ghost of a smile grace her lips. Although it sounded
cliché, her first thought when she let the events of before she had fallen asleep creep into her
mind was that it was the best sex she had ever had. Better than Draco, better than those nameless
guys, just all around better. She still had yet to discover what had made it so special. But when
she felt Harry's arm tighten around her waist she knew.

It was because she loved him.

It hadn't just been sex. They had made love. Of course she loved Draco… but not in the way
that she should. Now that she thought about it, he had become more of a brother-figure throughout
the years. But when they were growing up, there had been no one else to place their affections on
when puberty hit. So, naturally, they had chosen each other. She would always love him, but it was
a different kind of love. Not like the love she had for Harry. The love she had with Harry was
pure, unconditional, and most likely unrequited. She was probably a replacement for Ginny. Perfect,
lovely Ginny. So she would soak this up for all she could. This was her time with Harry and she
wouldn't waste it by running away for the second time.

She wiggled more firmly into his arms and felt his head bury in her neck. She sighed as his warm
breath came into contact with her naked skin. It soon turned into his soft lips placing butterfly
kisses along the base of her neck and shoulder. It was obvious that he was now as awake as she was.
She turned around and Harry detached his lips just in time to look at her with his gorgeous emerald
eyes. She remembered the first time she saw them. They were vastly becoming her favorite thing
about him. She saw them squint as he grinned at her, propping himself on his elbow to get a better
look at her. She shyly pulled up the covers over herself and avoided his gaze. He was the only one
who could make her feel uncomfortable like this. The old Hermione would have laughed, but she was
long gone.

He gave her a small once-over and caressed her arm. “There's no need to be self-conscious,
Hermione.”

“I'm not!” He gave her a look and she rolled her eyes. “Alright, so what if I am?”

“Well I find it incredibly cute.” He said, lightly touching her nose with his finger.

She raised her eyebrows, “Really?”

“Really.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Before he had a chance to pull
away, she wrapped one of the hands that was holding onto the blanket and draped it around his neck
to secure his lips on her own. He seemed surprised for a moment before smiling into to kiss and
carefully peeling the rest of the blanket from her chest. As the kiss deepened Hermione maneuvered
so that she was on top of Harry while still passionately kissing him. He moved his hands to her
waist and caressed up and down, causing goose bumps to erupt on her skin. She straightened so that
she was straddling him, breaking apart the contact of their lips and positioned herself on his
shaft. Her warmth enveloped him and they both groaned. Their hips moved with each other carelessly
as she lowered herself to give him another mind-blowing kiss. He quickly turned them over so that
he was on top and thrust deep into her. She let out a loud “Harry!” and he smiled into their kiss
once more. Her hands wrapped around his shoulders, making it so there was no room in between them.
The friction of their bodies and the constant need to break their feverish kisses was enough to
make both of them come undone simoantiously. Although neither of them lasted half as long as last
time, they weren't complaining. The fireworks were still there, proving that the last time
hadn't been a fluke.

He rolled off of her and looked her in the eyes. She gave him a silly grin and kissed him on the
corner of his mouth. These were the best moments of her life, and when she looked back, she wanted
to say that she was daring enough to take advantage of their time together. He reached behind him
and searched for his boxers. Finding them half under the bed, he pulled them on and turned back to
Hermione, who had been looking at him the whole time, admiring how the taut muscles in his back
constricted with his movements.

“See something you like?” He asked teasingly.

“I think you already know the answer to that.” She replied as she pulled on her underwear.

He chuckled but all too suddenly, his expression turned serious. Looking towards the door, he
waved his hand so that it opened and muttered a quiet “*Accio* clothes”. The remainder of
their clothing flew onto the bed and Hermione gave him a curious look. She didn't want to
believe that he was going to leave her. In her mind, it was inevitable, but half of her still hoped
that he would stay… just for a little while. He handed her his tee-shirt and she gingerly put it
on, still looking at him. He met her eyes and turned so that he was sitting Indian-style on the
bedspread. She tucked her feet beneath her and looked at him expectantly, bracing herself.

“Hermione I want you to know that I'm not the kind of guy who sleeps with someone that I
don't care about and then leaves them there.” Hermione nodded, hope springing up in her chest.
“I think you deserve to know about how… how I feel about you before you say anything.” She leaned
forward expectantly as he took a deep intake of breath. “The fact is that these past few weeks with
you have been the best I've ever had. I don't think anyone has ever made feel so alive
before I met you. That day in Flourish and Blott's was a bit of a bumpy start but I think it
was fate that brought me to you. All of my life I've been surrounded by all the wrong people
and only a handful of the right. But none of them have gotten me to feel this way. Now I think
I've figured out exactly what *this* is, but I'm not quite sure because for a time, I
thought I knew what it meant. I really hope I don't muck this up by saying what I think I'm
feeling. I hope that you won't get scared because believe me, I think I'm scared enough for
the both of us.” He grabbed her hands, which had been intertwined at her waist and held them
tenderly. She looked into his eyes and saw that there were tears beginning to form. She smiled at
him, trying her best to silently encourage him. It seemed to be enough because he spoke firmly,
“Hermione I… I'm in love with you.”

The tears Hermione though she was feeling pooled in her eyes and began to fall down her cheeks.
He was in love with her? This was all wrong! He couldn't be in love with her. It was dangerous
enough that she had fallen for him.

“Please don't cry, Hermione. I understand if you don't feel the same way.” He said
solemnly.

She shook her head. “It's—it's not that.”

“Then why are you crying?”

She bit her lip and lowered her head. She had to tell him. She had to tell him
*everything*. Even if he didn't love her afterwards, he deserved to know just as much as
she deserved to know how he felt about her. It was crucial. She would ruin the first love she had
ever experienced. But it was something she had to do to save him. Without her in his life, he would
stand a better chance of defeating the Dark Lord. It was now or never. “I have to tell you
something…” He nodded, still looking reproachful. He thought he was alone in his feelings. Silly
boy. “Harry I—”

She was interrupted by a tapping on the window. She and Harry turned around and saw a brown owl
perched on the windowsill holding a roll of parchment. Giving her an odd look, Harry opened the
window and took the parchment from it. Immediately it flew off towards the forbidden forest. He
made his way back to the bed and opened it. Hermione scooted towards him in curiosity. He finished
reading before she got a chance to look at it, however, and rolled it back up. Turning to her
without meeting her eyes he said, “Dumbledore wants me to meet him in the forbidden forest to…” He
glanced upward for a moment, contemplating how he should word it, “train.”

She nodded and the words came tumbling out before she could stop herself. “I'm coming with
you.”

He gave her a curious look, “You want to come with me?”

She nodded without a second thought, “Yes. I want to come with you.”

“Alright well… we have to leave right away. He said it was urgent.” With that he put the
remainder of his clothes on and pulled an extra shirt from his trunk.

Hermione pulled on her pants and turned back around to see Harry trying to flatten his hair. It
really was quite amusing. Every time he got it somewhat flat, it sprang back into disarray. He
turned to her with a shrug and motioned to the door. She nodded and they exited the dormitory. When
they got to the common room Hermione saw that it was only four in the afternoon. She wasn't
asleep long and everyone was still either at Hogsmeade or outside. For that she was thankful. If
someone had walked in on her and Harry she didn't know what she would have done.

They walked through the halls in silence. Hermione didn't think that she should tell Harry
before they had to face Dumbledore. She would get them into even more shit then they were already
buried in. She didn't even want to tell him that she loved him back yet. It was better for him
to think his feelings were one-sided for the time being. She would tell him after they met with
Dumbledore. For now she would just let him know that she was here. She slipped her hand into his
and intertwined their fingers. He looked over at her and gave her a tender smile as they walked out
the main entrance.

She felt the chilled air wash over her as they walked towards the forest. She could see dark
clouds making their way towards them, foreshadowing rain. She loved the rain. It was more innocent
than snow and disappeared as soon as it hit the ground more times than not. And when it did happen
to stay, it formed tiny puddles to splash in. She had done that when she was younger but never had
the opportunity when she was moved to the Riddle Mansion. Maybe if Harry and Dumbledore wanted to
be alone, she could sneak back and humor herself with a quick splash.

She had never been in the forbidden forest before so when they got within five feet of it, she
stiffened. Harry walked a few steps but felt her stay put so he turned around. Her eyes were glued
foreword at the foreboding trees and she felt dread wash over her. Maybe it was a spell to keep
people out? Dumbledore had said anyone who ventured into it would be punished. So why would he ask
Harry in there? She felt Harry give her hand a tight squeeze and she looked over at him. Instantly,
she felt warmth spread over her. If Harry wasn't afraid, then she knew it must be safe enough
to go in. She smiled at him and let him lead her into the depths of the forest.

As they weaved through the trees Hermione could *swear* she heard a wolf howl. And then, a
few minutes later, the bushes started to wiggle as though something was going to jump out at them.
At this point, Hermione was clutching to Harry's arm tightly. He didn't seem to mind as he
walked confidently through the forest. If she didn't know better, she'd say that he had
been in here once or twice. But who in their right mind would come in here anyway? It was called
the *forbidden* forest for a reason. As they got deeper and deeper within it, she began to
worry that she wouldn't be able to find her way out. But as long as Harry was with her, she
felt safe. Nothing could hurt her.

They came to a small clearing that Hermione assumed was towards the middle of the forest. Harry
stopped and looked around the parameter. “He said he would meet me here…”

Hermione let go of his hand and began to walk around, without straying too far from him. “Well
maybe he's just running late?”

Harry shook his head, “No—no Dumbledore's always on time.”

Hermione looked up and saw the dark clouds she saw earlier begin to accumulate above them.
Something wasn't right. The wind started to pick up and blow her hair and Harry's shirt
askew. She made her way back over to Harry who had his eyes closed tightly as if he was in pain.
She walked faster and opened her mouth to as what was wrong, but before she could emit a word his
hand shot up to his forehead and he keeled over.

“Harry?!” She called as she ran over and kneeled next to him. “Harry what's wrong?”

“Hermione… get… out!” He panted.

“What? No!”

“Yes!” He looked up at her pleadingly, “Listen to me. I don't want anything bad to happen to
you. Run. Go to Hogwarts and get McGonagall.”

“No Harry, I'm staying here with you.”

“Hermione ple—ARRGGG!” He bent back over and broke out in a cold sweat.

She shook his shoulders violently, “Harry? Harry what is it? Talk to me please! Harry…”

Before she could get another word out, the sound of a dozen people apparating filled the
clearing. She had a *really* bad feeling about this. She slowly looked up and saw that her and
Harry were surrounded by dark cloaked figures with skulls for faces. Death Eaters. He was here.
Hermione tensed up and wrapped her arms protectively around Harry, trying to come up with a plan.
The talking it over one didn't seem like an appropriate choice. She knew that she didn't
stand a chance dueling all of these people anymore. At a time she might have, but now that the old
Hermione was gone, she didn't think she could go up against more than three.

All thoughts of a plan left when she heard a single *pop*. Her breathing quickened and
Harry's body started to shake with more pain. She knew that she had to face him sooner or
later. So, regretfully, she let go of Harry and stood up. He was a little less than a yard away
from them. He didn't look like he noticed her previous grip on Harry as he barked out, “Seize
them!”

Hermione felt herself be taken back into the clutches of an unknown Death Eater and away from
Harry. She immediately began to struggle, “Hey, what are you doing?! Let go of me!”

Harry wasn't putting up much of a struggle as he continued to writhe in pain. She shot a
fleeting look towards him and then to the Dark Lord. He was looking at Harry with what could only
be described as a look of smug triumph. Anger began to boil in her stomach as she tried to make a
rush towards him. But the Death Eater holding her was strong. She was beginning to get confused.
Why was she being restrained in the first place?

The Dark Lord walked nearer to Harry and let a smirk grace his pale lips, “Harry, Harry, Harry.”
He began mockingly, “You really thought that you stood a chance up against me? You thought I
didn't have a plan of my own? Well this must be coming as a bit of a shock to you, then.”

Harry's head turned upward as he glared at him, his eyes turning dark with hatred. “I
don't underestimate you, Tom. I just didn't think you were the type of… person to attack
someone when their back was turned.”

His eyes narrowed and Hermione could see the anger radiating off of him. No one had ever called
him by his actual name unless they were asking to be cursed. “You dare speak my name?”

“I dare to do a lot of things, Tom. Now listen to me. Let Hermione go and we can settle this
like gentlemen.”

If Hermione didn't know better, she would have sworn that he laughed. He never laughed. “You
want me to let *Hermione* go now do you?”

“Did I stutter?”

Instead of getting angrier like Harry and Hermione both expected, he smirked again.
Hermione's stomach dropped. She knew what he was going to do before he even had the time to
think it all the way through. But before she could say anything, he turned toward her and addressed
the Death Eater holding her. “Let her go Dolohov.”

He released his grip on her and she stumbled over to him. The Dark Lord picked her up by her
shoulder and led her over to where Harry was standing. He began to struggle when he saw Hermione
being dragged over to him. “Take you hands off of her, Riddle!” He roared.

“Give me a reason, Potter. I dare you.” Harry opened his mouth to speak, but he held his finger
up to silence him, “But before you do I think you should hear something.” Hermione struggled
against his grip and opened her mouth to scream at him, but with a wave of his hand a gag was put
over her mouth and she stiffened. She had forgotten. He was the most powerful wizard in the world
and there was no use trying to fight him. “Hermione… such a pretty, trustful soul, is she not?” He
caressed the side of her face and looked at her tenderly but she flinched away. He looked over at
Harry sharply. “Tell me about the first time you met.”

“That's none of your business.”

“Fair enough. How about telling me things about her? Her favorite color, her best friend, her
*childhood* perhaps?” He finished with a sneer.

“It's—none—of—your—business.”

“Really now?” He asked innocently. “What if I told you that I could answer ever one of those
questions plus an added bonus, hmm?” Harry looked at him oddly. “Her favorite color is red because
of bloodshed. She and Draco Malfoy have been best friends since they were tykes. Should I go on to
her childhood?”

Harry scoffed. “You're lying.”

Hermione bit back a sob as the Dark Lord chuckled. “Am I? Her parents were murdered when she was
five months old by a few of my best Death Eaters and I, being the merciful Lord, took her under my
wing after she demonstrated powerful magical abilities well beyond those of a Mudblood. And now,
here we are, seventeen years later, after she completed the most important mission in her career.
She's on the fast track to being my second-in-command, her lifelong dream. She led you to
me.”

Hermione couldn't breathe. Her parents, her unknown past being thrown out for not only her
ears, but Harry's as well. She had always thought that the Order of the Phoenix had been
responsible for her parent's death. That's why she hated Harry. It was all a lie. A lie to
get her to be on their side rather than where she was meant to be. With Harry, with Ron, with
Ginny, with actual friends. The mission was all a flop. She was just being used to get to
Harry.

“You're lying!” Harry screamed. Hermione turned over to him with tears spilling down her
cheeks. He looked at her and caught her expression. “He… he *is* lying, isn't he
Hermione?”

The gag prevented her from replying but he got his answer in her eyes. His grief-stricken face
made her heart break into a million pieces. His strong stature flopped and he gave in to the Death
Eater holding him, letting him have the advantage. Hermione wanted nothing more than to run over
and hug him, telling him that she loved him and none of that was even important to her anymore. She
let the tears run rampant down her cheeks as the Dark Lord turned to look at her. “It's for
your own good.” He whispered, “After tonight, you'll be by my side planning the takeover of
Muggle London.”

She wanted to scream that that wasn't what she wanted. He let her go by guiding her back
over to where she was before. Dolohov didn't grab her this time but she was rooted to the spot
by her nerves freezing up. The strength she had was slowly dissipating and she knew that it was
near hopeless to do anything to help Harry now.

The Dark Lord stepped closer to Harry and instructed the Death Eater holding him to let him go.
Bending down to his level he spoke in a hushed tone, “You've escaped me enough to make my
killing you so much more satisfying. Everyone knows never to run away from their enemies. You
always kick them while their down. Or, in my case, kill them while they're wallowing in their
self pity. So, let us skip the `last words' bit and get down to business, shall we?
*Crucio*!”

Harry's body began to shake with pain and Hermione flinched. He was under the spell for a
good few minutes and never said a word, screamed, or moaned in pain. This angered the Dark Lord and
he lifted the curse for a moment, only to scream it once more at him. The curse was stronger than
ever and Hermione could see Harry struggling not to speak. He didn't want to give the Dark Lord
the satisfaction. It got to the point where his ears began to bleed. Hermione couldn't take it
anymore. He seemed so small, so helpless, so much in pain that she *had* to do something.

“STOP IT!” she screamed.

The Dark Lord paid no mind, but the Death eaters around her began to whisper. Feeling a rush of
adrenaline kick in, she grabbed her wand from her pocket, ran up close to him, and aimed.
“*Expelliarmus*!”

His wand flew a good ten feet away from him and he spun to look at her. She lowered her wand
slowly, wanting him to know that it was her who stopped him. His eyes narrowed and he glided
quickly over to her, stopping an inch away, so close that she could feel his breath on her as she
turned up to face him. His red eyes were flaring as he spoke, “Hermione what did you just do?”

“I stopped you from killing Harry.”

“Its Harry now, is it?” He asked viciously, “And why may I ask did you make such a mistake?”

“It wasn't a mistake.” She said flatly. She looked over where Harry was lying stiff on the
ground, eyes closed lightly and breathing raggedly.

He followed her eyes and turned back with an amused look on his face. It looked almost alike to
pity. “Aww… you've fallen in love with him. How disturbing. You really were a promising talent.
Too bad I have to get rid of you.” Hermione's eyes narrowed just before he shouted it.
“*CRUCIO!*”

He didn't even bother teasing her. The curse hit her full blow and she collapsed to the
ground. The pain worked its way through her body, making each individual muscle throb with piercing
pain. She didn't even bother masking the screams. She had no reason to. He could have all the
satisfaction he wanted, she really could care less. The pain was all she could focus on anyway. It
felt as though her insides were on fire. She twisted and turned, trying to find a way out of the
pain. Not once in her career as a Death Eater in training had she been put under the Cruciatus
curse. And now she knew why. He wanted to keep her in pristine condition so that he could continue
to use her.

Another wave of pain came and she let out an ear piercing scream. She clutched her stomach and
curled up in a ball. It didn't ease the pain but at least she would be taken away from this
word the same position she came in. It felt like forever that she was under the constant pain. She
wanted to be dead already so that she could be relieved. She begged for it, pleaded for it,
screamed for it. But her body was strong and wouldn't listen.

She didn't know how much time had passed when she began to see flashes of her life before
her eyes. They came steadily at first, starting from her fourth birthday and being forced into a
frilly salmon dress. The first time she and Draco had kissed, had sex, made each other laugh. The
first book she read, the first textbook she found, the first spell she had cast. When she moved
into the Riddle Mansion and how scared yet excited she was. The first duel she had won, which
happened to be the first she had ever been challenged to. But the ones that shined the most out of
her memories were the ones she had as soon as she had pulled up to Hogwarts. How kind Ginny had
been to her, how Ron never failed to make her laugh, and especially how Harry made her stomach
twist into uncomfortable yet pleasurable knots. Oh, Harry. He shined brighter than them all. He was
the person who changed her for the better, who made her feel alive for the first time. The boy she
loved. The only regret of her giving into death was to never see his face again.

Her vision began to get fuzzy as the pain stopped. She knew he had lifted the curse but the
weight of death was heavy upon her shoulders. He had held the curse long enough to destroy her. She
coughed and saw that it was blood red. Her ears had a faint ringing in them and because of that she
couldn't hear the gravel move around her as Harry crawled over to her. He had much more
strength than she and picked up her head to set in his lap. His face came into her sight, moving in
and out of focus. He had fresh tears running down his face and a few fell on her cheeks. He opened
his mouth to speak but she shook her head; which turned out to be a bad idea as she quickly vomited
on his jeans. She could feel the remnants on her chin but her arm had gone numb. She knew she had
only moments left and could feel herself begin to leave. She might as well say it now so that he
knew. He deserved to know.

“Harry…” He leaned closer, for her voice was quieter than a whisper and heavy with weakness.
“Harry… you n-need to know that I… I l-love you too.”

She could hear him begin to sob and chant something, shaking her, trying to keep her with him.
But it was too late. She gave into the white light.

-->



20. Love Me, Love Me Not
------------------------



**A/N: Holy shit! You guys really don't want Hermione to be dead. I thought you might feel
that way =] It was horrible to leave the chapter like I did… but it was just too damn tempting! I
love a good cliffy. The reactions I get are only half the fun. Evil? Why yes, I am!! I was
considering leaving you guys hanging for a while, but knew that would be pushing it. My friend
Emily actually pushed me to write this. She follows this story as avidly as you guys do, but she
doesn't have internet so I have to personally print out the chapters for her. I'm seeing
her later today (seeing as how it's 1:00 AM) and want to get this chapter to her before she
bites my head off. See, you guys can only threaten me through reviews and never come near me. She
can actually kill me. It's freakin' scary!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to be, but Harry and Hermione belong with each
other.** **(I saw that in another disclaimer and thought it was too cute to pass up!)**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Love Me, Love Me Not**

It was dark.

There were small splatters of colors. But you couldn't really call them colors. They were
too dim to be classified as bright, but too potent to be nonexistent. They moved along freely in
distinguishable patterns; diagonal, horizontal, vertical, but then straying into movements
completely foreign to describe. Once in a while there would be a bright white dot passing by,
resembling that of a bright sun. Those moments were the only thing that kept her hopes up that
there was a chance for her to live. But when they disappeared fear and dread washed back over,
enveloping her and dragging her deeper. After a time, she welcomed death—begged for it. But it
wouldn't grab a hold of her. Every time she felt it come closer, it would be drawn away by
something. Some invisible emotionless force was pushing it away. In this state of mind, she
couldn't feel anything but numbness, so anger at death's procrastination was absent. But
she did wonder vaguely if she was dead already. What did death feel like, anyway? And if she
wasn't dead, where was she?

She didn't know how long she had been like this. An hour? A day? A week? A month? Time
seemed to pass without incident. She knew that the clock was running, but didn't know how fast
or how slow. For all she knew, she could be a vegetable and would spend the rest of her life like
this. This was her punishment for being weak. She had failed what she had been set out to do and
instead had experienced the most dangerous emotion of all. She had fallen in love. It didn't
matter anymore that she had been used, lied to, and taken advantage of. The fact was that before
she gave into the darkness, she had expressed that she had, in fact, fallen in love with Harry. As
long as he knew, she would be at ease. But then why did she feel so empty—so cold? Love was about
letting the other person know that you felt the same way and then it was done. Right? No regrets,
no emptiness. Maybe she was different. Maybe she was destined to never be in love and when she
ultimately did, it would be miserable so that she would suffer instead of feel complete like she
was meant to.

Hermione Granger. Whoever thought that Hermione Granger would fall in love? Not her, not the
Dark Lord, not anyone. She had always followed commands, never once went against authority. But
then she met Harry and it all turned into shit in a matter weeks! She had always hated him—for all
the wrong reasons, she now knew—but hated him nonetheless. It seemed as though the people she loved
(in theory) she hated, and the people she hated she loved. She was one screwed up broad. At least
before she died she would die knowing that Harry loved her.

Oh, Harry.

He might be dead right now. She had left him while her head was lolled in his lap and could hear
him crying. She wished that she would have weaseled in an apology. But no, the most important thing
had been to tell him that she loved him. Pay no mind that she ultimately led him to his own death.
She loved him. Yeah, that would go well. Why die at the hand of your arch nemesis when you were
loved? What a lovely picture. He was most likely dead, and here she was in limbo wallowing in self
pity. At least, she thought it was limbo. She couldn't cry here, she could barely think here,
so why *was* she here? If she was dead, she might as well be able to be miserable. But she
could feel nothing but the darkness she was surrounded in. She is all alone. Or, she
*was*.

She could hear muffled noises coming from every which way. She wanted to move so that she could
find them, but she was immobile. At first, she thought it was just her mind playing tricks on her,
but the sounds grew louder and there was no use denying that they were there. Maybe they were there
to take her away, to help her escape from this place. But as they grew louder and she braced
herself for them to take her, nothing happened. They weren't there to help her. They were just
*there*. The muffles then slowly turned sharper and more defined. Words? Yes, they must be
words. There was no other way to describe them. They soon became clearer and she could make out
small bits.

“…it was luck that I found you…”

“I know and I… stupid… accident…”

The voices weren't directed towards her. They were just voices conversing with the other as
if…

She wasn't dead!

She tried desperately to reach out and listen to the voices. They grew sharper the harder she
pulled so she gave it her all. She wanted to know who was there and where she was now. It
wasn't limbo or death, which was a relief. It seemed she was pushing herself into reality
again. She didn't quite know what lay ahead of her, but she was anxious to figure it out.

“Why was the girl with you, then?”

“She wanted to come with me.”

“And you let her?!”

There was a pause. “Well yeah. I didn't want to leave her behind.”

Another pause. “You love her, don't you?”

“I used to think so… but…”

Now that she was out of limbo, emotions were now part of her being. They chose that moment to
crash onto her and she felt the weight of them knock her forward. The dark abyss that she was stuck
in before washed away into a bath of light. Instead of feeling nothing, she regained the awareness
of her body. The familiar sensation was a welcome relief and she moved her fingers out of reflex to
check that it was real. It was.

“Hermione!”

The voice was like an angel. She felt a pressure on the hand she had just moved and a rush of
fire moved from the tips of her fingers to her shoulder. It was Harry. She tried to open her eyes,
but they felt like they were stapled shut. She must have gotten the image across that she was
awake, however, because the pressure increased and she heard him speak again.

“Hermione? Hermione! Can you hear me?”

*Yes!* She wanted to say, *Yes I can and I want to tell you I'm sorry!*

Her lips wouldn't move so he took that as a “No.” The pressure left and she wanted to reach
out and touch him. She had moved her fingers, so why couldn't she tug on his arm? She tried but
couldn't get it a centimeter off of wherever she was laying. It felt soft, so she concluded
that she wasn't in the forest anymore. She must have been moved when she was in limbo. Well,
what she thought was limbo. *Oh fuck it**, it was limbo!*

Her anger began to pool as she kept trying to move her arm. Why did her body choose *now*
to freeze up? Pressing one more time against the invisible weight she felt a burst of adrenaline
pass through her and she groped for his arm. She came into contact with it and as soon as she
touched him she could hear him intake a large amount of breath. The moment she felt his grimy shirt
under her fingertips, her eyes shot open as a strike of lightning shot through her.

“Hermione?” he asked uncertainly.

Her eyes focused quickly to the bright light as she looked up at Harry, whose emerald eyes were
shining with concern. She tried her best to smile as she spoke in a husky voice. “Harry, you're
alive.”

He smiled back at her and nodded. She moved around a bit so her back was resting up against the
bed she was laying on. Her vision began to get fuzzy again and she keeled over.

“Whoa take it easy!” He said as he helped her lean against the headboard again. After making
sure she was secure, he removed his hands quickly and averted his eyes.

Hermione took the opportunity to observe her surroundings. The brick walls, multiple cots, and
faint smell of pepper-up potion all led her to believe she was in the hospital wing. How did she
end up here? She took a good look at Harry and saw how beaten up he was; any visible skin was
covered in dirt, his eyes were bloodshot, and his hair was even messier than usual—and not in the
good way. He didn't look like he could speak two sentences yet alone carry her to the hospital
wing or even levitate her. She felt the strength to speak make its way up her throat and she said
the first thing that came to her mind.

“I'm sorry.”

He turned sharply to her and she flinched when she saw the look on his face. His jaw was
clenched and his eyes narrowed. It all suggested that he was going to yell at her, so she braced
herself by shifting a bit more in her place. The blow never came. She slowly looked back up at
Harry and saw him looking at the mattress. “Yeah… me too”

“What—what do you have to be sorry for?” she asked, testing the ground.

He gave her an icy glare that sent shivers down her spine. “For trusting you”

She flinched. That one hurt. “Well I suppose I deserve that.”

“You deserve a lot more than that. You should be dead right now—in Azkaban maybe.”

“Look Harry, I know right now I must seem like the worst person on Earth and—”

“If you're going to try and explain, you might as well save it.” He interrupted. “I
don't want to hear your petty excuses. Not now, not ever.”

“But if you just—”

“No, Hermione.” He said sternly. “I've had enough of your lies.”

Hermione bowed her head down. “You're right.”

His head snapped up, but she didn't notice. She was too busy studying the sheets that were
pooled on her lap. Her vision began to blur once again, but not accompanied with the dizziness that
would cause her to keel over. This time, her haze was caused by a well of tears. Even though she
knew that she deserved every bit of his harsh words, it still stung. He had been so tender with her
before, up until she had been writing on the forest floor. Even then, he had cradled her in his
arms and begged for her to come back to him. But he must have changed his mind in the time she was
in limbo. That's just what she deserved. She had love and now she had lost it.

Wiping the unshed tears from her eyes, she looked back up to see him still looking at her. He
must be looking at her for a reaction, testing her. Well she wouldn't fail this test. “So what
happened—after I… erm…” She didn't know exactly how to describe what had happened.

“Died?” He supplied.

“Right, sure.”

“Well when Voldermort was… torturing you he had no intent to stop. But Moony jumped out of the
bushes and pounced him. They all apparated away and good `ol Tom swore he'd be back for me. But
you must know that, of course.”

The last comment threw her back. “Excuse me?”

“Well you're a Death Eater, right? Shouldn't your twisted tattoo be throbbing by
now?”

“My *twisted tattoo*?” She asked dangerously.

“Yeah, you know that thing on your forearm that alerts you when your master wants you.”

“I know what you meant! I don't have one.”

“You can't fool me.” He said teasingly, “Every one of your kind has one.”

“Everyone except me. Don't you think you would have noticed it by now? *Especially*
after last night?” He gulped and his face turned a light shade of pink.

“Last night was a…”

“Mistake?” He nodded and her stomach plummeted. “And what about this morning?”

“That was a mistake, too.”

“And what about the part where you said you loved me?”

“That was a—” he stopped himself and turned to glare at her. “Unfortunate flaw on my part.”

“Right.” She whispered. It was amazing how much things could change. First he loved her, and now
he didn't.

The awkward moment between them was interrupted by the doors to the hospital wing squeaking
open. Both Harry and Hermione turned to look at the man entering the wing. He wore a shabby looking
suit and looked a mix between tired and sick. As he got closer, she could see he had graying light
brown hair and a small amount of stubble on his chin. He was holding two goblets in his hands with
steam emitting from each one. The man smiled as he stopped close to Harry and gave her a quick once
over.

Harry twisted his neck and said in a solemn voice, “Hello Moony.”

“Harry.” He looked back over at Hermione and she managed a small smile despite her current mood.
“Care to properly introduce me to your friend?”

“Do it yourself.” He said sourly as he got up from the chair he had been sitting in and brushed
past the startled man. The doors slammed shut behind him and echoed throughout the silent room.

The man blew out a puff of air and sat in the now vacant seat gingerly. He was still holding
both goblets and took a drink out of one. Slowly looking over at Hermione, he handed her the other
goblet. She took it carefully and held it with wobbly hands, not knowing what to make of the
gesture.

“I didn't poison it, you know.” He said jokingly. Hermione looked at him curiously and he
smiled, motioning to the steaming goblet. “It was meant for Harry but since he's indisposed at
the moment, I think you'd benefit more from it.”

Taking that as a good enough reason to drink it, she complied. She studied him for a moment over
her cup. He must have been the other man that Harry was talking too. Harry had called him Moony—no
way! “You're Remus Lupin.”

“The one and only. I suppose you've heard of my… erm disability as well?”

“Yeah… you're a werewolf.”

“It doesn't make you feel uncomfortable or anything does it?”

“No! No, not at all.” She said quickly. “I admire you, actually. I have ever since I've
heard of you. You go about life as if you have nothing wrong with you and when people give you crap
about it, you just let it happen. No violence or anything. It's a nice relief, you know?
Usually when people are discriminated against, they resort to methods like rebellion and violence.
But you go around, acting as if you are just a member of normal Wizarding society, proving that you
belong there.”

He looked surprised for a moment, “I never expected you to be so…”

“Understanding?” Remus nodded. “I suppose Harry told you that I'm a Death Eater, then?”

“He might have mentioned it.”

She nodded tensely. “Well you'll be relieved to know that he is seriously misinformed.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” She looked over at him and smiled sadly. “But you probably won't want to know about
my side of the story either.”

“On the contrary…”

“Hermione.”

“Hermione.” He gave her a warm smile. “On the contrary, I am very interested to hear your side
of the story.”

“Really?” She asked slowly.

“Really.”

“Well I'm not *actually* a Death Eater. I guess you could call me a Death Eater in
training. I was supposed to make friends with Harry so that the Dark Lord could get to him easier.
But I…”

“Fell in love with him instead?” Hermione gave him an aghast look and he smirked. “You don't
hide it as well as you think you do.”

She blushed. “Well the mission didn't really go as planned. But if it did—go as planned I
mean—I would have been his second in command. That was what I was led to believe anyway. Now I
don't think he was ever going to let me have any say in my future. Turns out he was just using
me for his own benefits. Not that it mattered much. I had already turned my back on him awhile ago
after I… had a change of heart.”

There was a long silence and she thought that he was going to get up and leave, just like Harry.
Taking another sip of the drink (which she now identified as hot lemon tea), she waited for him
storm out. It was inevitable, really. Who would sympathize with the Death Eater?

“Harry hasn't heard your side of the story, has he?”

She shook her head, “He stormed out before I could explain.”

“Just give him time to cool off. I know he loves you, Hermione. He's just going through a
rough patch. I can't imagine how his girlfriend being a Death Eater in training is affecting
his state of mind.”

“Oh I'm not his girlfriend.” She corrected lightly. He gave her a knowing look and she bit
her lip. Was she? She took another sip of her tea and noticed something. “Why haven't you run
out the door yet?”

He chuckled, “My dear I have no reason to be judgmental because you aren't what society
defines as `normal'. After hearing what you have to say, I know that you truly have a heart of
gold and though Harry might not see it, you're here because of your sacrifices.”

“What do you mean?”

He leaned closer to her, “You're aware of how Harry survived the first time Voldermort
attempted to kill him?” She nodded. “Well, because of his love for you, and your love for him, you
survived. When I levitated you and Harry back to the castle, you were dead. But by the time Harry
pulled through and saw you, your fate was decided. Harry's love is a gift not given often, but
when received, it is the ultimate source of protection. Back when Sirius was alive, we discussed
how there might be the possibility that because of Lily's sacrifice, Harry would have a love
inside of him so powerful that it could bring back the dead. It was more of a theory than anything,
but it turns out that my old friend was right.”

“W-why are you telling me all of this?” She asked shakily.

He grinned and she could scarcely see a shadow of how handsome he must have been in his youth.
“Because you deserve to know.”

“I don't deserve anything.”

“Just because you've made a few mistakes doesn't mean you have to be punished for the
rest of your life. Harry *will* come around, I know he will. But until then you have to stay
strong.”

She nodded, sniffling a little. “You really shouldn't be so nice to be.”

“Like I said before, I have no room to judge.” He looked down at his goblet and frowned. “Excuse
me for a moment, Hermione, it seems as though I've run out of tea. Do you want me to fetch you
some more while I'm down there?”

“No thanks Mr. Lupin.”

“Please, call me Remus.”

“Alright. No thanks Remus.” She said with a whisper of a smile.

He smiled back at her and exited the room, leaving her all alone. She had never been in this
part of the castle before. It was odd being alone in such a large room. None of the other cots were
occupied, which was a bit of a shock. Usually a hospital had more than one occupant in it at a
time. It was sort of creepy. The only sounds were that of the strong winds against the windows.
Turning to look out the one nearest to her, she saw that it was raining. How ironic.

A sudden creaking noise caused Hermione to jump in her seat and snap her neck back over to the
door. She suspected it was just Remus returning with their tea but was surprised to see a head of
platinum hair looking at her apprehensively, almost studying her, like he didn't believe she
was real.

“Mia?”

She smiled at him, “Hi Draco.”

He ran over to her and enveloped her in a hug. She squeezed him back hard and felt him pull
away. Their noses were touching and she could see tears in his eyes. She wiped them away as he
pulled back and sat close to her on the cot. He sniffed and looked her in the eyes, “I—I thought
you were—”

“I was. But I'm back now.”

“Mia, I don't know what to say. I mean, I knew that you were going to be there when Potter
was… you know. But I had no idea that he would kill you.”

“Neither did I. But I guess when you change sides he gets a little miffed.”

“You… you're changing sides?” He asked.

She nodded. “He was using me, Draco. He lied to me about my parents. I don't even know if my
name is actually Hermione. I was fighting for all the wrong reasons.”

He looked at her sadly, “Wow. Mia I-I'm so sorry.”

“It's alright.” She said softly.

“No it's not.” She looked up at him curiously, “Listen, we've been together since we
were in diapers and I can't stand around watching you get hurt. I love you. You're my best
friend.”

“Draco you can't just leave! Your father will blow a gasket.”

He nodded, “But you're worth it.”

She smiled and saw him lean in. Before she could stop him, their lips collided. It was a soft
kiss, but she still felt the emotion he was pouring into it. When he said “I love you” he
didn't mean platonically. She was about to push him off and explain her feelings towards him
and more importantly, towards Harry, when a loud, angry voice echoed through the room.

“GET YOUR SLIMY PAWS OFF OF HER, FERRET!”

They sprung apart and Hermione saw Harry looking murderous. Her eyes flicked to Draco and saw
him smirking over at him. This wasn't going to be good.

Draco stood up and approached Harry slowly, “Ahh Potter, so nice of you to join us.”

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Harry said through clenched teeth.

Draco lifted his arms up innocently, “I was just having some catch up time with Mia here.”

“*Mia*?” Harry spat disgustingly. “What kind of hideous nickname is that?”

“The kind of nickname that shows history”

“History of what, exactly?”

Draco smirked, “History of f—”

“STOP IT!” Hermione screamed. They both looked at her and glared at them. “Stop fighting!
It's not going to get you anywhere.”

“Mia I—”

“Shut it.” She warned. She turned to Harry, “Harry, what are you doing here?”

“Am I not allowed to be in the hospital wing?”

“Not when I'm the only one in here and you stormed out for no apparent reason.”

“No apparent—you're a fucking Death Eater and you never told me! Sorry if it takes a while
to let it sink in that you were plotting to kill me when I thought you were my friend.”

She scoffed, “You never even took the time to hear my side of the story.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I love you!” She screamed. He looked taken aback and she took his silence as an
advantage. “Didn't the fact that my last words to you before I died were `I love you' have
any effect whatsoever?”

There was a pregnant silence between the three of them. Hermione had tears welling up in her
eyes, Harry was biting his lip, and Draco looked as though he were about to vomit. They were all
saved from having to break the ice by the doors slamming open and an out-of-breath Remus bracing
himself against the frame. All eyes were on him as he panted out a single sentence that made all
three of their blood streams go ice cold.

“Voldermort… he's… here… *now*!”

All hell had broken loose.

-->



21. Not Without You
-------------------



**A/N: Wow, it seems as though I'm always posting these in the wee hours of the morning. I
spend the whole day writing and don't get done until 1:00-2:00 AM. It's a good thing
I'm a night person and I'm still on summer vacation. I have a special message from Emily
(aka: The Pusher)! She says that she loves you guys too, and she'll keep on pushing me to get
the latest chapter finished. I love how you're all so manipulative of me… it's great.**
**You get to see the Sailor Moon inspiration in this chapter! For those who don't catch it
and/or are curious as to what it is, I'll post it as a note at the bottom.** **The last
thing I want to say is that I have a question to ask. I've been working on two soundtracks for
this fic; one with songs that inspired the story, and the other a score (like epic music to play
during certain scenes that totally fit the mood). I was wondering if you would want me to post it
after they were finished? It would be a link to my Livejournal page and there would be download
links there. Is it a good idea or should I bag it?**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. I'm sure that if it was you'd all be pretty
damn happy with the ending—and so would the children. Albus Severus would have his
comeuppance!**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Not Without You**

The room would have been silent if it wasn't for the distant banging sound that Hermione
could scarcely hear. She had an inkling of what it could be, but the thought was too frightening to
think about. How could the Dark Lord be here already? It seemed like only a few minutes ago that
she was writhing on the forest floor in pain. But then again, he never used to waste time when
Harry was involved. He had always been, and will always be, set on killing him until he succeeds.
It wasn't until now that she realized how pitiful his life was—revolving around a
seventeen-year-old boy. It didn't matter that it was Harry. Well, that had *some* part in
it, but even if it was someone like Neville Longbottom it would still be just as pointless. Who
would be so pathetic as to let their lives be controlled by someone other than yourself?

“How did he get in?” Harry's voice broke her trance.

Remus shrugged his shoulders lightly, “Same way he did before. He somehow got past the
anti-Apparation wards and is now trying to break into the castle. Luckily he hasn't found a way
to get in here other than by physical force, so we have some time to come up with a plan.”

“There's no need.” Harry said, veering his eyes to the window that had a good view of the
castle entrance. “I know what he wants.”

“Harry…” Remus tried wearily.

Harry continued to stare out the window, as if in a whole other world. Hermione wanted to reach
out and touch him, but knew she shouldn't. It was too dangerous. He craned his neck to look at
the lycan and spoke in a monotone. “He won't leave until I'm dead or I kill him. It's
always been that way and it will stay like that unless I just hand myself over.”

“Harry you can't just give into him! There must be another way….” He trailed off.

“No, Moony, there's not.” Harry said sharply. “You can try to come up with a plan to
distract the other Death Eaters but in the end it's just going to be me and him. There's no
use dancing around the truth.”

There was a small pause before Lupin chose to speak up again. “At least allow me to alert the
Order. They can help with securing the students and fighting off the Death Eaters.”

Harry nodded shortly. “Go ahead. But when they get here, I'm leaving to go fight him.”

Remus walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. They looked like a dramatic picture
taken before a battle was to commence. “I understand that you've come to terms with your
destiny Harry. But that doesn't mean that you need to act as though you're going to die.
You're a very powerful wizard in your own right and no one should allow you to think
differently.”

Harry remained silent and Remus took that as an initiative to leave. He removed his hand from
Harry's shoulder and disappeared into Madame Pomfrey's office where Hermione assumed a
connection to the floo network was located. When he left Hermione knew that Draco was going to make
a comment before he even spoke. A selfish part of her wanted to know what he was going to say so
she didn't stop him. But that part was easily squished when he opened his bag fat mouth.

“I think you should just let him kill you.”

Both Harry and I snapped our necks over to where Draco was leaning up against the stone wall
with a smirk plastered on his face. Harry seemed too passive on this comment and Hermione saw that
he wasn't planning on defending himself. She decided to take action; if anyone would be able to
break Draco, it would be her.

“How dare you?!” She hissed. “You don't need to be so insensitive!”

Draco seemed somewhat surprised at her outburst and cocked an eyebrow. “You're actually
defending scar head?”

Hermione bit her lip before answering, “So what if I am?”

Draco narrowed his eyes and stepped towards her. She knew what was coming before it hit her and
gulped softly. There was no escaping this without confrontation. “And what exactly does he have
that I don't? We've known each other our whole lives! There isn't a thing about you
that I don't know.”

“Obviously that's not the case if you can't accept that I would rather defend Harry than
throw him into the clutches of the Dark Lord.” She said more calmly than intended. In reality she
was fuming but didn't want to let it show.

“We would be better off without him.” He said bitterly.

“Oh and why is that?” She questioned, crossing her arms.

“You're asking me why we'd be better off without Potter?” He asked carefully. Hermione
nodded, not really grasping the pleasure he took in the order until a smug grin formed on his face.
“Well first off, the world would be an all-around better place without him preaching about how we
can fight the Dark Lord if we only *believe in ourselves*. His constant ploy of `the world
always has to revolve around me' would finally be rid of. We would be saved from witnessing his
mediocre handle on a broom every time there's a Quidditch match that is most likely rigged.
The—”

“Shut it, Malfoy!” Harry suddenly interrupted.

Draco seemed to be unphased as he turned to face Harry. “Hit a sore spot, did I?”

“Of course not, ferret, I just enjoy yelling at you.” Hermione couldn't tell if that was
sarcasm or if he was actually telling the truth. It was unnerving, really.

Draco looked to be getting slight color in his cheeks. Hermione knew it was because he was
thinking of something to say. Unfortunately, Draco was never gifted with a sharp tongue. The only
time she really recalled him coming back with an actual non thought out witty comment was when he
was around her. She had never seen him argue with Harry before, so her suspicions were confirmed.
She really brought out the best in him. Or, the worst.

“You sure you want to do that, Potter?”

“Do what? Outwit you until you drop dead?”

“In your dreams Potter”

“Don't think for one moment you have any influence over my dreams, Malfoy.” He said
dangerously.

“I wouldn't *dream* about it.” Draco jeered.

“Your lack of suitable comebacks is astounding.” Harry said in amusement, obviously gaining some
weight in his head.

“So is your lack of brain cells.”

“I'd rather have a few than none at all.”

“Ouch, that one hurt.” Draco clutched his chest, “Especially from someone whose name could
easily be confused with something three-year-olds use to take a shit.”

“At least I don't have it pouring out of my mouth.”

Before Draco could retort, they heard a commotion in the office behind them. It sounded as
though a coat rack or something of that sort came crashing to the floor. Then, as if on cue, a
woman with bubblegum pink hair stumbled out of the door, looking as if she had just come off of an
out-of-control broomstick; terribly off balance. She looked quite young and that was confirmed by
the t-shirt beneath her robes that read “The Weird Sisters” in bright pink font. When she set eyes
on the three of them, a wide grin spread across her face.

“Wotcher, Harry!”

Harry nodded at the woman, “Hey Tonks.”

The woman she now knew as Tonks brushed off some floo powder off of her robes as she stepped
away from the door. While she was busying herself with that, another few figures stepped out into
the wing. One looked like something out off a thriller novel. He had grizzled, dark gray hair and
was wearing muddy brown robes. But what made him rather intimidating was the large blue eye that
stood out against his tiny brown one. It whizzed around quickly and she immediately knew who this
man was. She was in the same room as Alastor “Mad Eye” Moody, the man who put a large portion of
Death Eaters she used to work with behind the bars of Azkaban.

The few others that entered through the door weren't as easily distinguishable as the first
two, but she knew from first sight that they were all Aurors. The last to enter was Remus and he
went to stand in front of the crowd of newly gathered people. There was no need to tell everyone to
quiet down, for they were already silent upon arrival.

“We all know why we're here so there's no need for frivolities. I need half of you to
get the students into the Room of Requirement and the other half to help fend off the Death Eaters
from entering the castle.” He instructed.

“What about the D.A.?” Harry asked.

Remus turned to Harry, “What about them, Harry?”

“They should be able to fight. They've been training for this.”

“Harry, we can't endanger the lives of kids to—”

“I'm a kid, too.” Harry interrupted, “I'm a kid, and I have to face Voldermort. If
I'm allowed to fight, they should be to. They're ready for this.”

“It's true.” Hermione added. Harry gave her an odd look, but she pressed on. “He's
helped train them himself. I've seen what they can do and it's phenomenal.”

“I don't know…”

“Come on, Remus.” Tonks stepped up and tugged on him forearm. “Let them help. We could really
use it.” Hermione could see the reluctance in his features and apparently so could Tonks. She ran
her hand up and down his arm in a caress-like motion and he took in a deep amount of breath. Seeing
that her job as done, Tonks stepped back with a mischievous smile. “They can help. But only inside
the castle.”

Harry nodded, “Alright. Well, now that that's settled, I'm off.”

He began to walk away to the door and Hermione's stomach began to clench. “Harry!” she
blurted before she could stop herself. He stopped and turned around, which surprised her seeing as
he hated her now. “I want to come with you.”

“Forget it, Hermione. You've already died once and I don't want to risk that again.” Her
face lit up at the caring words. Maybe he *did* still care. “You're staying here where the
Order can keep an eye on you. For all we know, you could turn against us at the face of your
master.” The bitterness in his voice made her shiver. *Guess I was wrong… he doesn't care
about me at all.*

He exited the wing quickly and Hermione felt a weight drop down on her shoulders. She could see
Remus's face soften at the exchange and wanted to tell him that it was fine, but Draco
interrupted her. “And so he walks to his death…”

“Shut up, Draco!” she yelled at him, storming over to her bed and sitting down heavily.

“Alright you lot, go to your posts!” Remus instructed after a pregnant pause. Everyone quickly
dispersed out the same door Harry exited.

Hermione vaguely felt someone come to sit next to her. She was cracking her individual fingers
and staring out the window towards the forbidden forest, trying hard not to cry. She knew that no
one would judge her—but she would judge herself for being weak. Now she understood why she never
wanted to let love be a part of her life. There was too much risk of it breaking like a glass vase
in a rotating room. Too bad it was too late to put that view into her mind. She was in love and it
hurt like hell.

“Hey.”

She didn't turn to look at him. “Go away Draco.”

He was silent for a moment before speaking up softly. “You don't love me, do you?”

That caused her to crane her neck towards him. The smugness of his composure was gone and
replaced by a melancholy frown. “Draco you know I do. Just… not in the way I should. You're my
best friend and that's as far as my feelings go.”

He bowed his head, “There's nothing I can do to make you want me more than him is
there?”

“No. I'm sorry.” She sniffed and wiped at her nose. He pursed his lips and looked her in the
eyes. Oddly enough, there wasn't a trace of bitterness in them anymore. All that remained was
the warmth. Well, as much warmth as silver-gray eyes could provide. “You're still going to keep
fighting with him, aren't you?”

“Yep.” He said simply. “The bastard stole you away from me.”

She let a small smile escape. “No one could ever steal me away from you, Draco. You're my
best friend.”

“That's all I'm ever going to be…” He said sadly. Hermione wanted to console him in some
way, but she didn't know how. Fortunately, he spoke up and saved her. “But we did have a good
run, though.”

She snorted. “Yeah if you could call it that,” He laughed as well and she knew at that moment
that everything between the two of them was settled. But she wanted to get one thing straight first
before she could consider things between them perfect. “You'll find someone one day who loves
you, Draco. Someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved. They're out there and
waiting for you.”

He slowly nodded and she quickly enveloped him in a short hug. When she let go, she kissed his
cheek chastely. The tender moment was interrupted, however, by a loud *bang* that sounded
outside. Hermione quickly got up and looked out the window she remembered Harry going to. She could
see a large group of Death Eaters shooting spells of different colors and sizes at the entrance.
Some were conjuring trees and throwing them at it as well. The door rattled heavily with each blow
and Hermione feared it would collapse. But suddenly, the spells stopped and the doors began to open
slowly. Hermione could see Harry's dark figure stepping out onto the grounds. He was alone. Why
was he alone?

“Why is he alone?!” She yelled.

She felt someone come up behind her followed by Remus's soft voice. “Don't worry,
Hermione. The Order will be there in a moment.”

Hermione held her breath and hoped that he was right. She could see Harry staying still. He must
be talking. Either that or the Dark Lord was talking to him—degrading him. He was buying time. It
seemed to work, because she soon saw members of the Order come in behind him and begin to shoot
curses. Soon, a full out brawl was taking place and it was all Hermione could do not to scream. She
saw too many green beams of light shot at each other. She had never feared the *Avada
Kedavara* before now. Now Harry was out there. Not to mention she had lost track of him within
moments. Her fear heightened as she saw a flood of students pour onto the grounds. She could easily
see Ron and Ginny's red hair standing out in the crowd. She could even see Luna, seemingly
dancing through the Death Eaters and shooting out hexes as if it was her profession. She wanted
nothing more than to join them.

She looked over at Remus to see him already looking at her. “I know. Go on.”

“Really?”

He nodded and she beamed.

“Go? Go where?” Draco said worriedly.

“To fight obviously.” She said, grabbing her wand from the table beside her cot.

“Fight? I don't think so!”

Hermione stiffened. “Excuse me?”

He smirked. “You're not going out there without me.”

Hermione relaxed and smiled a little. She began to walk out the door with Draco on her tail
before she suddenly stopped. “Remus are you coming?”

He held up a hand, “I'm going to stay here for awhile. I have to check in with the Order at
the Room of Requirement.”

“Oh, alright then. Wish me luck?”

He smiled warmly, “Good luck Hermione.”

She grinned and turned to exit. On the way down the stairs, her heartbeat began to increase.
Draco grabbed a hold of her hand and she squeezed it back in appreciation. With his support driving
her, she quickened her pace. They both began to jog as soon as they got into the entrance hall. She
could feel the cool breeze graze her skin as they quickly approached the double doors. She paused
to take in the scene that was laid in front of her. There were people dueling inside, trying to
keep the Death Eaters at bay, and some were succeeding whist others were wobbling about hurt or
unconscious. She didn't want to think them anything but unconscious. Vases were smashed on the
marble floor, portraits had long tears on them, there were puddles of blood pooled on the floor.
She had to repress the urge to vomit as the coppery scent made its way into her nose. She had never
observed a battle scene before. She had always fought on the side with the long dark robes and
skeleton masks. Now that she saw the torture that they were inflicting on the Order and D.A.
members, it was surreal to think that she had been a part of that. It was savage.

She could only observe for a short amount of time before the curses were aimed at her and Draco.
She blocked them easily, but knew that they were the sign that she should go. She had to find Harry
and help him. She didn't know why she still wanted to after they way he treated her. Guess the
old stereotype was right: Love did crazy things to people. Crazy things like going to help someone
who hates you.

She saw no sign of him anywhere; only groups of people dueling and bodies falling. She could see
many more members of the D.A. dueling high-ranked Death Eaters and was amazed at their skill. She
had never really seen their full potential until this moment. When she defended Harry's command
to allow them to fight, it had really only been out of instinct. She didn't exactly know what
kind of instinct, but it pushed her to speak up. Now she knew what it was: faith. These were her
friends, her acquaintances, her classmates. She had never known them as anything else until now.
They were warriors. Age didn't seem to be a barrier to anyone but the Death Eaters who laughed
at the small figures daring to challenge them. She knew that if she was still on their side, she
would have done the same. If a third year had come up to her and challenged her to duel, she would
have laughed in their face. But now she thought completely parallel. Now she was scared shitless of
these people she had once only known as her friends.

Ginny and Lavender were fighting a Death Eater by the name of Simon Jugson. He had a mean
Cruciatus Curse and never failed to make his opponent bleed. It was a sort of trademark of his.
Each one of his victims would die of a blood-related injury whether it be by curse or physical
punishment. Unlike other Death Eaters, he also trained his physique. After a Muggleborn wizard had
broken his arm, he had sworn to be the best of every possible type of fighter. Hermione also
suspected he had a fascination with blood. She had caught him bottling some of his victim's
blood before. She didn't know what for, but she saw him do it a few times at a raid. It had
always freaked her out a bit. She liked bloodshed as much as the next Death Eater, but to keep the
blood was disturbing.

Ron was battling Fenrir Greyback, a well-known lycan on the dark side. Killing for him was like
reading for her—a simple pastime that he did whenever he felt need to, in other words, for leisure.
He could never go out in public as often as the rest of them because of his wolf like appearance.
He was a somewhat powerful wizard, but his forte was transforming children into werewolves. She
hoped that Ron would avoid this punishment. She would never wish that fate onto anyone. But Ron
seemed to be holding his ground well enough.

She had caught the attention of a Death Eater she remembered as Nathan McClellan. Probably the
one Death Eater she could never stand. He was cocky, arrogant, not to mention horribly
unattractive. A complete ass that never failed to make her insides boil. She took a sick pleasure
in shooting a curse his way after his mouth opened wide as though he were going to reveal that she
was alive. The last thing she needed was to be bombarded after she had come back from the dead. It
was a simple body bind curse, but as she marched over to him, she made it much more than that. She
stomped on his nose and heard an audible crunch as it broke. She smirked as she saw the blood fall
down his face. She left him there, knowing that someone would come along and carry the body to
where they could properly dispose of him. Azkaban in her mind was heaven compared where she
*really* wanted to send him, so she knew that she shouldn't be the one to decide his
fate.

She tried her best to remain unseen so she could avoid anyone else spotting her. She ran to the
edge of the forbidden forest and hid behind the trees as she traced the perimeter of the battle. A
part of her wanted to help her fellow allies, but she knew that she had to find Harry before it was
too late. It became harder to bear as she saw bodies begin to drop down like flies, sometimes not
distinguishable. There were so many voices shouting spells that it was hard to tell who was
winning. She hoped that it was them.

Suddenly, she snapped her head over to the black lake as she heard an inhuman scream. Feeling
adrenaline begin to pump through her veins, she ran. Draco had already immersed himself in a battle
with a still masked Death Eater, so she didn't need to worry about telling him where she was
going. But after today, she had a feeling he already knew. He knew and he didn't try to stop
her. He didn't try to stop her because he loved her. Not in the way that she loved him, but
love nonetheless. She would always hold a special place in her heart for him. Even if most of it
was already taken by a certain bespectacled boy—man.

She arrived at the lake to see Harry immersed in a full on battle royal with her former master.
They seemed to be unaware of their surroundings, so she was safe for the time being. She still
chose to hide behind a tree just in case. After standing there for a few moments, she discovered
that every time they directed a spell at each other, their wands would connect. Sometimes the
spells would simply bounce off each other to random places on the grounds, but others would form a
line of connection between the two wands. She remembered the Dark Lord saying something about this
after he had returned from his prolonged absence. The same thing had happened when he battled
against Harry after he was resurrected. *Priori* *Incantatem**.* Their wands were
each other's twin and neither could cast a spell at the same time or else no one would come out
victorious. It was a beautiful sight to behold until they disconnected and she realized that this
wasn't the time to admire the linkage.

The Dark Lord cast a purple curse at Harry and knocked him back on the ground. Hermione flinched
and held onto the trunk of the tree, digging her nails into it. She knew now was not the moment to
emerge. If she did, she would most likely be killed. She didn't really feel like dying a second
time, so she instead strained her ears as she realized that he was speaking.

“So this is it. You, on the ground as you should be. And I, honing in for the final kill.”

Harry spit on the ground as he looked him in the eyes, “I wouldn't be so sure of that,
Tom.”

“STOP CALLING ME—”

“*Stupefy!*”

Harry shot the hex at the unsuspecting Dark Lord and caused him to collapse into a large boulder
a good ten feet away from him. Harry hastily got up and walked closer to him, mocking him. “You
really should talk less. It's your weakness you know. Instead of talking about it, you should
just kill them.”

He narrowed his red eyes at him and waved his hand to create a light shield around him as he
began to get up. Harry tried to break it with a few weak curses, and then some stronger ones, but
none penetrated it. Harry was too busy trying to break it that when it was finally lifted the Dark
Lord had already charged a curse and fired it at him with a force so strong he collapsed on the
ground breathing heavily but never screaming. He never screamed. Hermione bit her lip to keep from
screaming out to him.

“You should take your own advice, Potter But now you've given me no choice but to act upon
what I've been planning from the beginning. I was just going to kill you the easy way but now
you've given me the motivation to act upon my original plans. Unfortunately for you, it means
you'll have to wait a bit longer to see your Mudblood traitor of a girlfriend again. Pity.”
Harry didn't answer and the Dark Lord smirked. “*Portus Fulsi!*”

Hermione saw a white beam begin to form out of midair and panic set into her stomach. Now was
the time to act. She began to run to Harry just as he was lifted into the portal. He was dangling
as if being drawn from an invisible string. She quickened her pace and screamed at the top of her
lungs, “HARRY!”

She caught a look of shock on the Dark Lord's face, but ignored it as she took a chance and
jumped into the beam of light. Harry immediately saw her and a look similar to the one she just saw
spread across his face. “Hermione no! Go back *now*!”

“*No!* Not without you!” She screamed back at him.

His hand was dangling a few feet from hers and she tried to reach it. She groped for it as she
extended her arm as far as it would go. There were only inches between them and if he extended his
arm as well, she could grab it. She looked up into his eyes to see something shine in them. She
didn't know what to expect as she continued to strain her hand, hoping he would extend his hand
to her. “*Please*” she whispered.

Hermione didn't know whether it was because of her plea or pity, but he extended his hand to
hers and she latched onto it. She pulled hard and made their bodies collide with each other as they
drifted higher towards the clouds. She kept his hand in hers as she wrapped the other around his
waist, burying her head into his chest. She hated heights and didn't want to see what was
beneath them. But if she did look down, she would have noticed the look of smugness that the Dark
Lord had as he saw them lift higher into the air. Harry wrapped an arm protectively around her, as
he *did* notice the look, and she tried to enjoy this moment as best she could, because this
could very well be the last time she would ever be close to him.

That was the last she remembered because at that moment, as soon as their bodies were nearest to
the clouds, the world went dark.

~*~

**Alright so the inspiration was the beam of light that Serena and Darien are sucked into after
one of the battles. I totally forgot which one and what episode—but for the truly hardcore fans,
you'll know what I'm talking about ;)**

-->



22. The Final Blow
------------------



**A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter is really late! I knew what I wanted to write but could
never put it into words. It's a lame excuse, I know, but it's the truth. Emily says that
she's sorry that she couldn'****t push me hard enough =/ But I totally pushed myself to
finish this chapter today! I re-played the still in-progress score that I'm working on for a
good hour to get me to go faster. I also didn't proofread this chapter because I just want to
post it so you all won't kill me. So beware! If there are any grammar mistakes, I'm
sorry.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine! No matter how much I wish for it, it'll never
come true.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**The Final Blow**

It was sad that Hermione found darkness commonplace. From the time she was a child until now,
she had always been surrounded by it. But, ironically, when she finally realized that she was on
the wrong side and moved towards the light, the darkness only intensified. Now wasn't an
exception. She felt a faint pounding in her head; the beginnings of a migraine. She was cold. Her
body was shaking and she could feel Goosebumps up her bare forearms. She tried to move but found
her body ached with every small movement. The floor beneath her was hard and uncomfortable and she
found it hard to believe she was unconscious for more than a few minutes. She wasn't the type
of person who could remain relaxed on a hard surface. Gingerly, she tried to move again and
flinched as her back gave a small spasm. She finally propped herself against a nearby wall,
clutching her side. She reached in her pocket for her wand so that she could see could illuminate
the room to get a better grasp of where she was but couldn't feel anything save for the fabric
of her jeans. Groping around her, she tried to feel around for the familiar wooden rod but came
back empty handed.

She tried to remain calm as her eyes began to adjust to the darkness. It wasn't pitch black
so it didn't take much time before she could make out a few outlines of the room she was in.
The room was no bigger than the girls dormitory cut in half but lacked the warmth she always felt
when she was in there. It was unfurnished and paved in hard stone that would scratch her if it
wasn't for her—or rather Harry's—t-shirt. Harry!

She looked around the room for any trace of Harry but found none. She was all alone. The worry
she felt before when she couldn't fine her wand came flooding back and she felt her body begin
to shake more heavily. But it wasn't just from the cold. She rubbed her arms to try and calm
herself and began to rock back in forth. It didn't help. There was a small part of her that
knew that she should try harder and to not give up. She couldn't be alone. They had come here
together in that beam of light!

“Harry?” She whispered huskily.

Nothing.

“Harry?” She asked more firmly.

Nothing.

She began to give up hope as she let herself call out his name a final time. “Harry…”

The silence brought tears to her eyes. They might have already killed him. If he wasn't here
who knew where he could be? Being tortured… dead. She didn't want to think he was dead but it
was inevitable if they were in a portal conjured by the Dark Lord. She didn't even know where
*she* was, let alone if Harry had ended up in another location away from her. He could have
been with her at a time but she was unconscious and didn't even notice. She didn't even get
to say goodbye.

She sniffed and wiped at her eyes when she realized that she had been crying. It was weird how
easily she could cry now when she seldom did it before. There must have been a dam or something in
her eyes that broke whenever Harry was concerned. When she was happy with him, she cried. When she
thought he was dead, she cried. Anything having to do with him she cried! What kind of person was
she? *A person in love,* her mind answered. Love sucked. Well, that was a lie. It only sucked
when you were alone. If Harry was here, she wouldn't feel like this. But he wasn't…

“You can drop the act.”

Hermione's head shot up at the familiar voice. “Harry?”

“No, it's Buckbeak.”

“Who?”

“Never mind.” There was a short pause. “Anyway, you can stop trying to make me feel sorry for
you. It's not going to work.”

Hermione suddenly wished he had never spoken up. “I'm not *trying* anything,
Harry.”

She heard him scoff. “Please. It's obvious that it was your plan all along to get me to fall
for you just so Tom could give me the final blow. Pathetic, really. He had to resort to getting one
of his cronies to do his dirty work for him.”

“I'm not one of his *cronies*.” She ignored how ironic it was that he was using the
same term she had while describing *his* friends when her mission first began. “At least not
anymore.”

“Don't try to get me to sympathize with you. It won't work.”

“I wasn't trying too.” She said quietly. “I don't want your sympathy.”

“Could've fooled me.”

She flinched despite herself. “Trying to tell you the truth isn't a sympathy trip.” He
remained silent and she pressed the issue more, knowing that if she didn't give up she might
have a chance of finally getting Harry to see her side. “You have to listen to my side of the story
sooner or later, Harry.”

“Go ahead and disappoint me, then.”

She was surprised that he gave in so easily after claiming that he didn't want to hear her
excuses. She didn't want to ask nor ponder why he changed his mind—just take advantage of it.
She thought carefully about how she should word it. Should she go directly into it or start from
the beginning? He deserved the whole story, so she opened her mouth and let the history of her
childhood pour from her throat. She told him about her stay at Malfoy Manor, Draco, and her
relationship with Dobby. She told him how much she hated him and wanted to kill him from the moment
she met him. She told him about her training and how she went on raids. Basically, she gave him her
life story before she met him. It was only when she was voicing it that she realized how truly
twisted her life was.

She paused for the first time in her story, taking a small breather. She had left off at the
part when the Dark Lord had assigned her the mission. It seemed like a good place to leave off
because that was when her life changed forever, though she wouldn't say that yet. Part of her
wanted Harry to speak up, but another part wanted to finish the story before he had time to think
about it. So, deciding that the second one was more appealing than getting bitched out, she
continued before Harry could even think about speaking. All in all, she had only paused about five
seconds. Some Gryffindor she was.

“When I got to Hogwarts I felt so… at home. I felt as if it was where I was meant to be. When I
got sorted, all I was set on doing was going to sit next to Draco and continuing the mission to my
full capacity. But then it put me in Gryffindor and I sat down in a sort of blur, not really
believing that I had been put there and wanting a chance to prove myself worthy of Slytherin. But
then when Ginny started talking to me… she was so nice to me that I didn't know what to do so I
just nodded. And then I saw you…” She trailed off, deciding to be completely honest, “I wanted to
kill you right then and there. But I knew that it would probably ruin my chances at a real school
experience so decided against it. I think the first time you talked to me you pretty much
single-handedly threw my pretences out of the window even though I never realized it. The more time
we spent together, the more you wore me down. I don't know how you did it, but somehow you got
rid of the old me and created a whole new person. I had never conjured a Patronus before and you
made it happen. And then… and then you kissed me and sent me into a whirlwind. There was never a
time in my life where I truly felt complete and in that moment with you I finally experienced what
I had read about for all these years. But with that came a bag of emotions that I was too afraid to
open. I was supposed to help kill you and ended up…” She sniffed, the weight of her emotions coming
down on her, “falling for you.”

There was a long pause. Hermione knew that she had said everything that she could to give him
her side. There was no intention to make him feel sorry for her. She felt bad enough as it was. So
all there was left to do was wait for his reaction, if he chose to give her any. But she felt a
little better knowing that he now knew what she had gone through. In all reality, she would be
content if he gave her the silent treatment. He knew her story and that was all that mattered.

“You lied.”

“I had to.”

She could have sworn that she heard him nod. “You have any clue as to where we are?”

She was taken aback at the change of topic. But, truthfully, she was thankful that he was even
talking to her in the first place. She didn't really expect him too. She decided to think about
it for a moment before answering. There was something familiar about this place, but it was too
dark to tell anything specific. “There's something I can't place about it…”

“Does your cell have a window?” he asked carefully.

She rotated her head to look around the room and as she was looking directly upward she saw a
tiny hole just above her head. Deciding to investigate it further, she forced her body upward. The
pain wasn't as bad as it had been, so she heaved herself up more forcefully. Her feet scraped
against the floor loudly as she balanced herself with one hand against the wall. As she allowed the
head rush to ebb away, she observed the small opening in the wall more closely. It was definitely a
window. But it looked like it was more of a hole with bars on it. Maybe someone had tried to escape
and they closed it off? She decided to put all questions of that aside for the time being as she
inched her head out of it a bit to see what laid on the other side. The most important thing was to
figure out why she had the feeling of familiarity.

Directly parallel to the window was a long patch of land. It was dark out so the whole property
looked spooky. The trees were all either bent in an odd direction or dead, sometimes both. But what
really caught her attention was a tree towards the middle. It was bent sharply to the right and had
a rope hung from one of the thicker branches. At the end of the rope was what looked to be a
lop-sided plank of wood swinging back and forth in the light breeze. And that was when it hit
her.

“We're in Malfoy Manor.” She said softly. “In the dungeons.”

She had sometimes come down here to help assist in the torture and interrogation of the
inhabitants. They weren't people of much significance. From what she remembered, they were
mostly in the wrong place at the wrong time. But that never prevented her from torturing those who
wouldn't comply with their orders. Even though it was in her past, she still felt eerie. She
had killed people in this dungeon. Maybe even in this cell. She shivered involuntarily and sat back
down.

“Figures they would bring us here.” He said icily.

She let her head drift to the side, pretending the wall was him. “Why do you say that?”

“Well no one really knows where it is.”

She nodded. Earlier in her youth she had overheard a conversation between Lucius and Narcissa
about putting protective wards on the house. She had never understood why but now she knew. It was
so the people who were brought here had no chance of being rescued. Her hand inched to the wall
beside her and rested on it. She didn't know why, but knowing that Harry was so close to her
brought her comfort. Maybe they weren't doomed. But even if they were, at least she was with
him. She tried to imagine that his hand was on the other side of the wall much like hers. If only
she could see through walls.

Time passed slowly and before Hermione knew it, she was beginning to grow tired. She knew that
she couldn't fall asleep unless she could cast a cushioning charm on the floor. And even if she
could, she was almost positive that there was some sort of security system in place that would go
off at the slightest hint of magic. Of course she didn't know if that was true, but in her
experience as a Death Eater she had seen similar precautions used to ensure that the captives
stayed put. Harry must have had the same idea because he didn't try anything either. She was
fully aware that he could do wandless magic as well as she could so he must have considered the
option.

They were stuck here.

Was it weird to think that it's somewhat comforting to know that you were going to die in
the same place that you were raised? Well, she thought so. She felt a sick comfort in the situation
while at the same time panicking. Now that the Dark Lord knew she was alive, there was no telling
what was in store for her. Would he just kill her? Would he force her to watch Harry's imminent
death? Whatever he chose to do with her would end in both of them dying. There was little to no
hope of surviving the next few days. She only wished that she could at least touch Harry one more
time. But that had small chance of happening as well.

Her back stiffened as she heard footsteps echoing nearby. She remained silent as she heard them
increase in volume. Any tiredness she had felt was stripped away as her body remained paralyzed
against the far wall of the cell. As the footsteps came closer, she could make out at least two or
three pairs. They were coming to take her and Harry; she could feel it. She wished that she would
have heard them earlier so that she could at least say goodbye. She doubted they would let her
speak. No, she *knew* that they wouldn't let her speak.

Suddenly, it was silent and she held her breath so she could check for any sign of movement. She
soon heard the sound of keys being placed in a hole and unlocking the iron barred door. It
wasn't hers, but the one directly next to her.

“Alright Potter, time to meet your fate.” She recognized the cold voice of Bellatrix
LeStrange.

“I'd rather meet your dead body on the floor.”

“*Crucio!*”

She heard him let out a large amount of breath as he was hit with the curse. She could hear him
trying to contain his screams. In their place he emitted deep moans that broke her heart. Why did
he insist on holding it back? It was more painful that way. She wanted to scream out to him but
knew that her time would come and she would at least see him. During her visits down here, they
would never take one person out at a time. They would take out the whole bunch. It was so that they
could watch what their fate was going to be like. And if they looked relived about it, they would
make each death more and more painful.

Harry's sounds of resistance came to an end and she could hear them drag him out of his
cell. She braced herself as she heard them approach her cell and unlock the door. She could make
out the outline of three tall figures. One of whom was holding the slouching form of Harry.
Bellatrix was clearly in the front and Hermione could see her sauntering over to her. The bitch was
going to enjoy this. But she wouldn't talk. She wouldn't give her an excuse to make her
suffer. The light footsteps stopped and Hermione could make out Bellatrix's thin frame. Since
she was sitting down, the elder witch bowed down slightly and spoke with a haughtiness that
Hermione just wanted to hex off of her.

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to come back from the dead.”

She remained silent.

“Just couldn't stay away, could you? You wanted to die the old fashioned way. Like all the
other traitors. I have to say that I'm impressed. It seems as though your loyalties still lie
with us.”

Hermione had to bite her lip to keep her muteness.

Bellatrix smirked, “You're smart keeping your mouth shut. You know what we do to those who
resist their fate. Who knows? You might even get off easy. The Dark Lord always had a soft spot for
you. He was going to make you second in command, remember? But now that you're out of the
picture I hope you'll understand that the position had to be filled. Hope there's no hard
feelings.”

She was fairly sure that her lip was bleeding because she began to taste copper in the buds of
her mouth.

“You think you're strong? Well I'm sure we can fix that.” She pulled away slowly and put
her hands on her hips. “Crabbe, take her.”

She saw a large shadow come quickly in front of her and hoist her onto her feet. She felt her
hands being locked together by a binding charm and was shoved out of the cell. She stopped herself
from colliding with the wall just before she was pushed forward. Crabbe and the other Death Eater
that she couldn't make out (probably Goyle) were behind her and Harry while Bellatrix was
practically floating in front of them. Hermione knew that this was her only chance to communicate
with Harry before they were to face the Dark Lord and chose to take advantage of it. She scooted as
closely to Harry as she was able to and nudged his shoulder with her own. He looked over at her
weakly and she motioned downward. He furrowed his brow in confusion and she rolled her eyes,
inching a finger over to his pant leg to gently poke it. He caught on quickly and reached for her
bound fingers with his own. Because of the curse, only a few of their fingers could be interlocked
without it look suspicious, but Hermione didn't care. His warm skin against her own, even if it
was just a few fingers, made all the difference as they continued their walk down the long
corridor. She had forgotten how large this place was after not being here for a few years.

As they ascended the narrow set of stairs, the pressure in Hermione's stomach increased to
the point where every time she took a step it felt as though a brick replaced where her digestive
organ was supposed to be. Was this what it felt like knowing you were soon going to die? Did the
other people who were led through this corridor feel this way as well? There were so many questions
that she would never know the answer to. The only thing keeping her sane was Harry's fingers
interlocked with her own. Oh how she wished she could talk to him. But the risk was too dangerous
to even think about. She was in a fragile state as it was. One more Cruciatus and she was as good
as gone. She would rather savor these last moments.

There was a plethora of voices increasing in volume as they slowly approached the ballroom.
Although it didn't look like the ballroom she was familiar with. Instead of being brightly lit
with candles and strong lighting charms, it was dim and reflected an eerie green light that
reminded her of an underground cavern. She had never ventured into the ballroom when she was
younger unless there was a party. Was this what it looked like normally? If that was the case, she
was glad that she never spent too much time in here. She was sure even the old Hermione would be a
little uneasy out by this.

The voices dimmed as they arrived in the middle of the room. She let go of Harry's hand and
immediately felt a cool breeze brush past it. There were robed figures all around the room in a
large circle, each looking like an exact replica of the person next to them. It was impossible to
tell who was here and who wasn't, not that it mattered much. Every person here was probably
elated to get rid of her. She could imagine the looks hidden beneath their masks—smug smiles, wide
grins, ghostly smirks. All of them chorusing the same thought: Finally we get rid of the brat! She
knew that they all talked about her behind her back while she still considered herself one of them
so why should their opinions of her change as she changed sides? If anything, their egos would go
past the Milky Way knowing that she was ultimately not cut out for this.

“Ahh Harry…” a familiar snake-like voice sounded from the middle of the room. “And
*Hermione*, what a pleasure it is to see you again.”

He was perched on a large thrown-like chair in the middle of his followers. He was dressed head
to toe in is usual all black attire, making his blood red eyes stand out even more against his pale
white skin. It was sickening, really. He was smirking as he lazily draped one hand over the head of
the “throne” and looked her directly in the eyes. “I have to say that I'm impressed. Not many
people can be victim to my curses and live to tell the tale. Too bad you'll have to return to
hell.”

“You're the one who's going to hell.”

She twisted her neck to look at Harry pleadingly. She didn't want him to get hurt. But a
curse didn't follow his comment like it had before. Bellatrix and the others had joined the
large circle and were out of shooting range of either her or Harry. Their fate was now up to the
Dark Lord.

“I think we're past all of these petty insults, don't you?” He said this very casually—a
little *too* casually. He made a weird motion with his neck as if calling one of the Death
Eaters over. Right before Hermione could think to stop him, he aimed his wand lazily at Harry and
shouted “*Crucio!*”

Hermione immediately collapsed on the ground to try and help him but a pair of strong arms
pulled her back. She began kicking and screaming for them to let her go so she could be by Harry.
But whoever was holding her was far stronger than she was and had no intention of letting her go.
They pulled her back about ten feet from where Harry was writing on the marble floor. “*HARRY!
NO!*” she screamed. There was no use holding back like she had before. She wanted to let Harry
know how much his pain was affecting her. But most of all she wanted him to be rid of all of this
pain once and for all and she didn't know how to do it. A few minutes ago she was already
contemplating her and Harry's death but now that they planned to make her watch his instead of
killing her off first, she had to do something to make it go away. The only thing that she was
capable of doing now was struggling with her captor and screaming at the top of her lungs. But that
wasn't really getting her anywhere.

Harry continued to be tortured on the floor and it was then that she realized that he didn't
have his wand. Well she already knew that, but she didn't grasp what it actually meant until he
was at the hand of her former master. This wasn't a fair fight! Why would anyone sink so low as
to fighting someone when they had no means of defending themselves? It then came to her: He was a
coward. The Dark Lord just wanted to kill him and he didn't care how he did it. She struggled
harder to break free. She knew that she had the strength to perform wandless magic to help him.
That was most likely why she was dragged away, so that he had an even better chance at killing
him.

“Would you stop struggling?” A voice whispered in her ear. It took her a second to register that
it was the voice of the person who was holding her. It wasn't harsh, but urgent. She craned her
neck to the side to get a better look at him after she stopped struggling for a moment. It was no
use; she couldn't tell who the person behind the mask was. If only he would speak again, maybe
she could tell. He granted her silent request a few second later, his voice masked by the
struggling Harry trying his hardest not to scream again. “If you stay still, I can get the both of
you outta here.”

It suddenly clicked, “Draco?”

“Yeah,” he answered quickly, “Keep your face focused on them and keep resisting, though. I
don't want it to look like we're talking.”

“Right.” She said as she turned around and focused on the ground beside Harry as she pretended
to still put up a struggle. She didn't have to scream anymore. They would just assume that
Draco had put a gag on her. “How did you know they brought us here?”

“It was kind of obvious once I saw the huge beam of light in the sky. I overheard my father
talking about it. Apparently, if the Hogwarts approach didn't work, they were going to bring
you here.” Hermione nodded against him. “I know that you want to help him, so I convinced my aunt
to let me carry your wands. She thinks that I already broke them.”

“How did you convince her of that? You were fighting on our side during the battle.”

“Well she wasn't there, for one. And it helps that I'm wearing a mask.”

Hermione bit back a smile. “So what do you plan on doing?”

“Handing you your wand and letting you take over.” She figured as much. Draco was never one for
elaborate plans. “I made a Portkey while you were in the dungeon. Just find me when you're done
and I'll activate it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Alright I'm handing the wands to you now.” She felt the light pressure of two wands press
into her back and she gently reached behind her to grab them. When she had a good hold of them she
felt the familiar handle of hers and put Harry's in the back pocket of her jeans. “Be
safe.”

She smirked, “I can't guarantee anything.”

Before he could respond, she pushed herself off of him and made a beeline for the Dark Lord.
When she was within five feet of him she shouted “*Expelliarmus!*” and watched as his wand
flew out of his hand. She didn't waste time looking for his reaction and instead bent down to
Harry and slipped him his wand. He was very weak and she knew that he barely had any time left
before he passed out. “Harry we have to get out of here, follow me, I have a way out!” She
whispered harshly.

“No. I've… got to kill him.” It pained him to speak.

She shook her head. “You're too weak, you can't fight.”

She vaguely heard the Dark Lord yelling at his followers to stay back.

Harry shook his head. “I have to.”

Tears began to fill her eyes. “If we stay too long we'll both be killed. We have to go
*now*.”

“Not until… he's dead.”

“Stop being so stubborn!” she said harshly. “I don't want you to die because of it.”

He placed his hand on the one of hers that was resting on the ground. The Dark Lord was right
behind her, she could feel his presence. If they didn't move now, they were going to die. She
tugged on his hand and he resisted, pulling her back. He gave her a small smile, “I have to do it,
Hermione. You may not understand it, but it's my destiny. Just know that I… I *do* love
you.”

A single tear went down her cheek. Did he not understand that he was going to die? Or maybe he
did and this was his way of saying goodbye. Either way, she had given up hope. If she was going to
die, she'd rather be with him than alone. This was her goodbye. “I love you, too.”

“How sweet.” The venom voice of the Dark Lord hissed. “Sorry to break up such a lovely couple.
But it's time you both met your fate. *AVADA KEDAVARA!*”

Hermione braced herself against Harry, clutching onto him for dear life, waiting for the final
blow that would send them away forever. But the blow never came. She slowly lifted her head. Was
this what it felt like to be destroyed by the killing curse? If it was, then she knew that she must
have gotten off lucky. But as she looked around her, she discovered that she was still in the
ballroom. But it was no longer green. It was a light shade of blue, almost like the whole room and
its occupants were being seen through glasses with blue lenses. It reminded her oddly of Luna
Lovegood. But what was happening in the ballroom was nothing short of phenomenal. Instead of the
smug face of the Dark Lord that she prepared herself to see, there was only a limp body against the
cushion of his throne. He stayed like that for what seemed to be an eternity and Hermione just
stared at him.

Flashes of light began to fly towards her and it was then that she realized that he was dead.
She didn't have time to think about how or why because she was too enamored with the flood of
spells being directed at her but not even touching her. They were all seemingly being absorbed by
something, something right in front of her—seemingly invisible. She caught sight of one of them
hitting a spot right in front of her peripheral vision and saw it make a sort of small rippling
effect on the blue color of the room. And with that spell she realized that the room had not just
turned blue—she was inside a shield! Not just any shield, but a powerful one. It was either
absorbing or reflecting any spells thrown at it. *That must have been how he died…* *his
spell reflected off of the shield back at him.* She mused to herself. *But how did this shield
get here? I don't remember anyone casting anything other than the Dark Lord.*

She didn't have time to think more on the subject because she saw a figure running towards
her. At first, she didn't really worry about it. If spells were bouncing off of it, then surely
a person would as well? But to her horror, the Death Eater ran straight into the shield and she
screamed, groping for her wand so that she could hex them out.

“Hey hold on!” They said, putting up their hands in a sort of surrender-like pose. They then
pulled down the mask and hood that covered their face and she relaxed. “It's me.”

“How did you…?”

“I don't know. I just… ran into it and it didn't throw me halfway across the room.” He
said jokingly. “By the way, kudos on the kickass shield! How'd you do it?”

“Umm… no idea. Listen, can we just get out of here?” She said in a rush. The less time the spent
here, the better.

He rummaged through the pockets in his robes and pulled out a familiar tiny notebook. It was the
journal they used as kids to make up weird spells that only five-year-olds could think of. Hermione
grabbed onto it and waited for Harry to do the same. When he didn't place his hand on the book
she looked over at him to see him lying limp against her. She only allowed herself to think that he
was unconscious. She grabbed a hold of him firmly and nodded at Draco. He pulled out his wand and
tapped the book. “*Portus.*”

The familiar sensation of her navel being tugged uncomfortably was the last thing she registered
before she, Harry, and Draco disappeared out of Malfoy Manor.

-->



23. Ultimatum
-------------



**A/N:** **I got it up on time! Props to me! I would have had it done earlier, but I had
some distractions. Honestly, this chapter started out as total bullshit and turned into something
worthwhile with an actual meaning. I don't know how I manage to do that, but somehow I do. Now
I think that I'll most likely only write about 1-3 more chapters. I know, it's so sad
*tear*. But I feel as though I've done all I can with this story without making it overly
cheesy. I do have other story ideas and will start on one after I finish this one—oh and a small
break. I mean, a girl needs some time off once in a while. But here is a question for you: Would
you want a humor fic or another dark one? I already have a good idea for a comedy one, but had this
weird dream recently that gave me a whole other idea entirely! To check out the actual plotlines of
the stories check out my** **website****.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. Hermione Granger isn't mine. But if I had my
way, they would have each other in** **places other than fanfiction. Mark my words!**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Ultimatum**

She was in the hospital wing again; the smell gave it away as soon as she regained her senses.
Opening up her heavy eyelids, she saw the oh-so-familiar high ceiling and it was confirmed. This
was quickly becoming her second home. But where she was currently taking up residence wasn't
what she was most concerned about. She wanted to know where Harry and Draco were. Propping herself
up against the head of the cot, she looked around the room for any sign of them. On her right side
she saw the familiar tuft of platinum locks tucked safely under a wool blanket and breathing
heavily, deep in slumber. But the absence of ebony occupying any of the beds was making her panic.
She knew that they had all gotten to Hogwarts safely—it was her last conscious thought before
blacking out. Her arm had been clinging onto Harry the whole split-second trip and only let go of
him when she felt the weight of unfamiliar exhaustion push down on her. He *was* here. But now
the question was: Where was he *now*?

Hermione tried to remain calm. She had spent the last however many hours in the pits of Malfoy
Manor, facing the Dark Lord, and ultimately helping in the destruction of him. He was dead. She had
no doubt in her mind that he was no longer a part of this world. When he was alive she had always
felt a lure to him and the Death Eater way. Even if she had left them, there was still a slight tug
because he had always been like a father to her. Never mind that he had used her for his own dark
purposes. He was still the man who trained her. But now that was all gone. She didn't know how
something like that could possibly happen but the matter was that it did. He was dead and she was
free.

The silence of the wing was deafening. The rain still hadn't stopped since the night
previous. She didn't know whether to take that as a sort of melancholy sign or just
coincidence. These past few days had been the most climactic of her life—again, she didn't know
how to take that. On one hand, it made her stronger than she already was, but in a completely
different way. Before she was physically and magically strong but now she had a mental strength
that was hard to perceive her having a few months ago. It was amazing how much time could affect
things. She didn't even want to think of how she was before any of this started. The thought
was like opening a well of unwanted depression. The fact was that she wasn't like that anymore
and that's all that mattered. She was a new person with a new life. A free life. A life she was
supposed to be sharing with Harry.

After about ten minutes of unnatural silence Hermione began to get a little more than antsy. She
began to pull the covers off of her when the door made a creaking noise. Not wanting to get caught
for trying to sneak out of the wing, she quickly got back under just as the door opened. She
didn't have enough time to fake sleep so she remained propped up against the headboard and
looked directly into the familiar eyes of Remus Lupin. She let out a breath and relaxed seeing the
friendly face. He took a seat next to her bed and smiled at her warmly.

“I see you made a full recovery.” He commented.

“What do you mean?” She asked curiously.

He looked at her oddly for a moment before responding. “When we found you three, you were all
unconscious. But you and Harry were—how do I put this?—*drained*. It was as though the energy
had been sucked right out of you. What exactly happened while you were at Malfoy Manor?” Hermione
must have looked reproachful, because he quickly followed, “Harry told me everything up until he
collapsed.”

“So he's okay?” She asked excitedly.

Remus smiled and nodded, “Yes, he's fine.”

She let out a relieved sigh and then tried to focus on his question. The only thing she
remembered was the shield. The *shield*. “When I went over to help Harry get out he
wouldn't budge. Something about having to kill him…” She trailed off, wanting to remember
exactly how he worded it. “`I've got to kill him', that's what he said. But the Dark
Lord he… he tried to *Avada* us and it didn't work.”

A look of awe passed on his face. “It didn't work?”

She shook her head, “No—no it just bounced back.” When she saw that his face remained unchanged
she began to explain. “When I didn't feel anything, I assumed I was dead. But when I opened my
eyes, there was a shield around me and Harry. I don't know how it got there or remember casting
anything. It was reflecting and absorbing any curse that was shot at us. It killed the Dark Lord.
He wasn't moving when I saw him and I just kind of… *know* that he's not around
anymore.”

Remus let out a puff of breath as he leaned back in his seat. Hermione studied him for a moment
as he absorbed the information that she fed him. He looked up at her after a few moments through
hooded eyes. “I'm afraid that I have no further knowledge on this subject than you, my dear.”
Hermione nodded in disappointment. He saw her look and spoke up again, “But I know someone who
might. I have my own suspicions but I'm sure that he will have a better outlook on it. If
you'll excuse me?”

“Of course,” Hermione said eagerly.

He proceeded to the exit but was stopped by the double doors opening just before he reached
them. He allowed them to pass by before slinking out. She was tired of never being satisfied with
the people who entered. They were never Harry. But at least it was the next best thing—the people
she really needed to talk to—her friends. The two redheads walked slowly towards her and she
automatically knew that she didn't need to explain anything to them by the looks on their
faces.

“I'm guessing Harry told you everything, then?”

They both nodded, but Ron was the one to speak up first. “He told us to talk to you about it.
Dunno why… he's been acting a bit off his rocker lately. But I guess it would sound better
coming from you.”

“It doesn't matter how she says it. She's still a Death Eater.” Ginny spat.

“*Ginny!*” Ron hissed at her.

“*Was.*” Hermione corrected. “I *was* a Death Eater. And not even that… I was more of
a Death Eater in training.”

Ginny looked unconvinced. Ron, on the other hand, was nodding. “I always knew there was
something different about you. Couldn't put my finger on it though.”

“You—you're not mad?” Hermione asked carefully.

“More like furious, betrayed, and *abhorred*.”

Ron ignored his sister's comment and smiled at Hermione. “I figure if you saved Harry from
his immanent doom, you're alright in my book.”

“No more than he saved me.” She commented carefully, knowing well that Ginny was still in the
room and looking homicidal.

There was a long pause. Hermione saw Ron shuffling his feet and didn't want to brave looking
at Ginny. She knew that she would only want to yell at her for something that wasn't even her
fault to begin with. And ever since Remus had mentioned that she had been practically drained of
her energy, she felt spent. Maybe it was her body finally realizing that she was doing too much too
soon? Either way, she didn't have the energy to deal with an angry redhead and would much
rather talk to one that actually still liked her for some odd reason. She had never fully
appreciated Ron until now. And she should let him know that.

“Ron why don't you sit down? You too, Ginny.” She motioned at the chair next to her bed.

“I'm quite fine standing, *thankyouverymuch*.” Ginny answered hotly.

Ron, on the other hand, smiled and sat down in the spot vacated by Remus. Ginny made a noise of
disgust and stomped over to a cot a few meters down. Not out of hearing distance, but far enough
away where her facial features weren't as easily distinguishable.

When Ron was situated, Hermione spoke up before she lost her nerve. “I have to be honest with
you, Ron. I never really jumped at the chance to get to know you and I want to apologize.”

He chuckled, “I'm not the most appealing person. I get it.”

“No! No it's not that. It's just that I was too wrapped up in… other things that I
didn't really make time for friends. Well, *intentionally* that is.” She chanced a look
over at Ginny to emphasize her point. “On our date I didn't even pay attention to half the
things you said. I'm horrible and I have no idea how you can be so forgiving. I think you
should take a tip from Ginny and just hate me for the rest of your life.”

“Unlike my kid sister, I don't think about myself before others. When I saw Harry talking
about you and your so called `mission' I realized that something about you *must* still be
appealing for him not to curse you into the next century.” Hermione blushed. “She'll come
around. She's convinced that she loves Harry, that's all.”

Hermione furrowed her brows. “Convinced?”

He leaned forward a bit but still spoke in the same tone as he had been using. It was like he
*wanted* Ginny to hear all this. “She's had a crush on him since she was ten and when he
finally came around, she thought it was love. They both did. But I think that Harry had better tell
you this. It really isn't my place.”

Hermione began to get frustrated. “Speaking of which, *where is he*?”

“He's… ahh… well last time I saw him, he was outside.” Hermione began to get up but Ron
stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “He'll come in eventually, I promise.”

She huffed and crossed her hands over her chest. If Harry was awake he should be *here* and
not outside. She needed to talk to him—see if he still loved her. He had changed his views before
and he could do it again. The longer he was away, the more likely he was going to change his mind
once more. She didn't want to go through that trip again. Ron was smart in staying quiet.

The doors opened again (shocker!) but this time she wasn't as eager to look at who was
coming inside. Ironic, isn't it? For when she looked up slowly and saw a familiar pair of green
eyes, her stomach jumped into her chest. On either side of him were Remus and, to her surprise,
Dumbledore. But all she cared about was that Harry was finally there. He gave her a small smile and
she grinned back. That was the first time she saw him smile in a while. Maybe thing were finally
okay? Dumbledore and Remus both pulled up chars to sit beside her and Harry sat on the edge of her
bed. She scooted over to give him more room and focused on the newcomers. Ron, however
uncomfortable he looked, stayed put.

“Hermione, Harry, I've informed Professor Dumbledore of the situation at Malfoy Manor and
he's come up with an answer that I'm sure will sedate our curiosity. Professor?”

“Thank you, Remus.” He said with a smile. “Now, Miss Granger, you say that you saw a shield
around you and Mr. Potter after Voldermort attempted to kill you?” Hermione nodded. “Was this
shield, by any chance, blue?”

“Umm… yes. Yes it was.” Hermione said reproachfully, not really knowing what significance the
color of the shield had.

“I see.” He said, stroking his long beard in thought. “Have you ever had anything like this
happen to you before?”

Hermione shook her head, “No. Not to my knowledge.”

“Curious.” He looked to be in thought for a moment before continuing, “If my assumptions prove
correct, I think I may have an answer for you. You see, sometimes witches and wizards are granted
with the power to perform wandless magic. I'm guessing you both know of this talent. Some learn
it, others are born with it, and most cannot perfect nor perform it without flaw. Although it is a
rare thing to hear about, some individuals are so advanced in the craft that they can perform it
without knowledge. These occasions are prompted by your mental state—in other words, your emotions.
Whenever you feel strongly, and by strongly I mean feverishly so, the magic inside of you responds
to that feeling with vigor. In other words, you unconsciously cast a spell in response to your
emotions. For example, when you conjured the shield, it was because of what you were feeling for
young Mr. Potter and the environment in which you were present.”

“But sir, how could it have caused the Dark Lord's spell to bounce off of it? There's no
spell out there that can repel the killing curse.” Hermione said knowingly.

“A keen observation, Miss Granger. But there is, in fact, one way to repel it and it's in
this very room.” Hermione felt at a loss. What could he possibly be talking about? “There is one
emotion that can repel anything thrown at it when mutual but even more so when both parties are
powerful wizards. Love.”

Hermione blushed and knew that beside her, Harry was doing the same.

“The love between the two of you is so powerful that it tapped into your wandless magic and
protected you and the person whom you loved.”

Hermione suddenly got a flash of Draco running through the shield and looked up at Dumbledore
curiously. “Would it be possible for someone to run into the shield without it affecting them?”

“Perhaps,” He said with a nod. “If said person held a place in your heart. Since the shield was
caused by love, it would protect anyone whom you felt that for.”

She looked over at Draco's cot and smiled.

Harry chose that moment to speak up. “What about the Death Eaters? Did anyone—”

“It's all being taken care of, Harry.” Remus said quickly. “A good majority has escaped, but
the Aurors are tracking them as we speak. They couldn't have gotten far.”

“I—”

“You're not going to help, Harry.” Remus said sternly,

“Why not?”

“For one, you're in no shape to do anything physical.” Hermione looked at Harry and saw that
Remus was right. When she got a good look at him he looked awful, like he had been to hell and
back. There were bruises all over his arms and cuts all around his face. He looked as exhausted as
she felt. Was this what they meant by drained? How did she look compared to him? “And second, I
don't want you being put in any danger after what you've just been through. Alive or not,
you're far from ready to fight again and that's final.”

Hermione couldn't help but agree. But Harry wasn't as easily swayed. “Remus I'm
fine!”

“Don't bother arguing. You're not setting foot outside of this castle and that's
final.”

Harry looked pleadingly at Dumbledore. “I'm afraid I agree with Remus, Harry. Your destiny
has been fulfilled so I encourage you to indulge yourself with a much needed rest.”

“But I—”

“Listen to them, mate.” Ron spoke up for the first time after Remus and Dumbledore had arrived.
“You look like you need a good rest and a bowl of my mum's lamb stew.”

“Oh that sounds delightful!” Dumbledore said cheerily. “Would you mind flooing your mother to
bring some for us?”

“Umm… sure?” Ron said with uneasiness as he began to get up.

“You may use the one in my office. The password is *N**utella*, a dreadfully delicious
Muggle food spread.” He said with a wide grin. “And take your sister with you, Mr. Weasley.” He
added.

Ginny, who had been slowly approaching the group, suddenly stilled. “*What?*”

Ron smirked and grabbed her by the elbow, dragging her along behind him, ignoring her protests.
Hermione had to stifle a giggle at her childish reaction. Without Ginny in the room and her eyes
glaring a hole in the side of Hermione's head, there was a welcomed relief that filled the
room.

“Remus, would you care to join me for a walk around the grounds? I feel as though I need to
prepare my stomach for the feast I am about to infest on it.” Dumbledore asked, adjusting his
glasses on the bridge of his nose.

Remus nodded, “Sure Albus. Harry, Hermione, if you'll excuse us.”

“Re—”

“No, Harry.”

Harry slumped against the head of the bed with a pout on his lips. She knew that she
shouldn't think this while he was in such a mood, but he looked unbearably cute. When the door
closed Hermione dared a look at Harry to see him clenching and un-clenching his fists.

“Why does he *insist* on holding me back?” He said angrily.

“Harry have you seen yourself?” She asked disbelievingly. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks. That did wonders for my self-esteem.” He said dryly.

“Well I know that I can't look much better so you're not alone in that respect.” Harry
gave her a small smile and she put one of her hands atop his in what she hoped was a comforting
gesture. “We've saved each other on multiple occasions and that means if you go, then I'll
have to go too. And not to sound selfish or anything, but I know that I'm not in the best
condition to fight at the moment and need a good rest. And you must feel ten times worse so
don't tell me that you feel fine. Tell me how you actually feel, and no fibs allowed.”

He looked down at their hands and twisted his so that their fingers were intertwined. “I feel as
though my insides just got third degree burns. My face is pulsing in random spots and my arms are
like jelly. But most of all I feel as though I should hate you when in reality… I can't bring
myself to.”

Hermione was floored by the last statement and looked at him with wide eyes. He turned to her
with an unreadable look on his face. “You used me and yet I don't feel anything close to
bitterness or—or anger. At least, not anymore. When you jumped into that beam I didn't want to
think that you actually cared. There was a small part of me screaming that you were lying and that
I should never trust you again. And that part took over me until I woke up to you calling my name.
Before you even started telling me your side of the story my mind was made up. I still feel the
same way as I did before we left for the forbidden forest.”

There were tears in Hermione's eyes by the time he finished. “I wouldn't blame you if
you never wanted to speak to me again.”

“That's a lie and we both know it.” He said seriously.

She bowed her head down in shame. She felt so vulnerable when he said it like that—like she
couldn't live without him. It didn't matter if it was true or not, it made her feel so
small. His free hand came up to her chin and captured it between his thumb and pointer finger. She
was forced to look in his eyes and suddenly felt warmth envelop her that she didn't even
realize how much she missed. “For the first time in my life I feel free. I have my mind to myself.”
He said passionately.

“Is that a good thing?” She asked, her gaze flickering to his lips.

“Yes. It's a *very* good thing.”

Before she could think of a proper response, his lips crashed onto hers. She disentangled their
hands to grasp the nape of his neck and secure his lips on hers almost instantly, reveling in the
taste of him. His hands came to her waist as his tongue plunged into her. It was a kiss shared only
by people who wrongly doubted their love only to discover that all they needed was each other.
Hermione was soaring above the clouds as he kissed her vigorously, seemingly pouring his heart into
her. She didn't know why he was focusing all of his energy into it. It wasn't as though she
didn't know he loved her—he had nothing to prove. And then it hit her.

He was trying to tell her something else.

She tore her lips away from his to ask him what exactly that was, but he just latched his lips
to her neck and stopped her in her tracks. He sucked at the pulse point causing her to squirm and
let out an uncharacteristic groan. Her intention forgotten, she tangled her hands in his hair and
held him to her. His hand moved to her—*his*— shirt and made contact with the skin hidden
beneath it. His touch sent a fire through her and she tugged his hair to re-attach his lips to
hers, missing his taste. She then proceeded to straddle him and a second hand came to wrap around
her waist and join the other in caressing her inflamed skin. Her hair served as a curtain around
their faces, making them oblivious to the world around them. He flipped them around so her back was
pressed firmly against the mattress, their lips never detaching. But it seemed as though as soon as
he was in control, the passion began to ebb away. She didn't notice it at first, but as his
lips slowed on hers and began pressing butterfly kisses across her cheeks, it became apparent.

He was saying goodbye.

“No.” She said firmly as he pressed a kiss on the top of her nose. “You can't do this. Not
now—not ever.”

He looked her in the eyes so intensely that she felt like she was melting under him. “It's
not forever. As soon as I'm well again, I'm going to help hunt down the rest of the Death
Eaters and serve them with the justice they deserve. Remus told me that they were going to send
some people out on the field tomorrow.”

“But he said that you weren't ready and I agree.” She said firmly. “You can't just
leave! Like Dumbledore said: You've already done your job so rest! You and I both need it.”

“I'll get plenty of rest by tomorrow. Word is that they're taking a train instead of
apparating so as not to alert them.”

“Harry you can't! I won't let you!”

“I have to.”

“That's what you said about killing the Dark Lord!” She yelled at him. He pulled back when
he saw her change of demeanor and got up slowly from his position on top of her. She followed him
as he got up and sat firmly on the cot next to her, avoiding her eyes. “Do you honestly want to
spend the rest of your life chasing after a future that doesn't exist? There will never be a
peaceful world, I should know. There will always be someone rising to power and trying to envelop
the world in darkness. If you choose to go after the remaining Death Eaters, it's going to be
your life that you are dedicating to their demise. I know you better than you think I do. You
don't want to chase after them forever—but if you start now, you won't be able to
stop.”

“I just… I want to help. It's all I know, Hermione.” He said sadly. “Like you said: I have a
`saving people thing'.”

“Only until your scar stopped hurting!” She said desperately. “The Dark Lord spent the majority
of his life chasing after you, plotting to kill you. It wasn't until recently that I realized
how sad it was. He let you envelop his life—his entire being was set on killing you and nothing
else. Is that how you want to end up? Like him? Chasing after the next wannabe Dark Lord for the
rest of your life? Letting someone else dictate your life?”

“Well… I…”

“If you can't answer that question without thinking about it, then that means you have a
choice to make.” He looked at her, emerald clashing with chocolate. “It's them or us. I may
love you, but that doesn't mean I'll wait on the sidelines for you the rest of my
life.”

It pained her to say it, but it had to be done. She had spent her whole life waiting on hand and
foot for a man (if that's what he was) and didn't want to do it again. She didn't care
if she was being selfish. After all that she'd been though, she deserved a little more than a
repeat of the life she had thought she left behind. They both did. And Harry should know that, too.
They deserved to live in a world in which they could enjoy life. Growing up with horrible
upbringings should have taught them both that. Who knows? Maybe she was wrong and no one would have
the guts to step into the Dark Lord's shoes.

She kept her eyes on him as she saw the concentration begin to make way onto his face. After a
few minutes, he looked back up at her and opened his mouth to talk. She felt anticipation well up
in her chest as he let the first few syllables pass through his lips. “I want to—”

The door slammed open and they both snapped their necks to whoever dared to interrupt their
conversation. What met them was a grinning Mrs. Weasley holding a steaming pot of stew. Ron and
Ginny soon came up behind her clutching their sides and breathing heavily. As soon as she set eyes
on Harry and Hermione her eyes widened and she thrust the pot into the unsuspecting hands of
Ron.

“You poor dears! Would you look at the sight of you? Oh my, I'm glad Ron called me when he
did you look just *horrible*!” She bustled over to them and began examining each of them;
lifting their arms about and brushing her hands on their cheeks. “You need a good serving of lamb
stew and a hot bath. I'll go find Dumbledore and ask where I can put my special bath salts.
Ron, give them some stew while I'm gone.”

With that, she rushed out of the room and left all occupants horrified. Ron was the first to
make an effort to do anything as he walked carefully over to the cot and placed the pot on the
bedside table. “We tried to stop her, knowing you were probably alone. Sorry guys.”

“It's fine, Ron.” Hermione said softly. “You didn't interrupt anything.”

Ron smiled and looked behind him where Ginny was still standing by the door, a few bowls
clutched in her hands. As Ron walked over to gently coax them away from her, Hermione leaned near
Harry and whispered. “We'll talk later.”

It wasn't just a statement—it was a promise. And as Ron came back over with the bowls and
began to pour them some stew, she realized that the rest of her life was lying in the decision of a
man she didn't even know would choose her over his way of life. Merlin help her.

-->



24. A Perfect Ending
--------------------



**A/N: Alright, first things first:** **THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY****. Well, not
really. In all technicality it is—but I'm planning to make an epilogue. They are just so much
fun to write and I have the perfect picture in my head about what to write. Along with the epilogue
I will post the links to the soundtrack and score of this story that you guys seemed to like the
idea of. The score is proving tough for me to make but I hope that it turns out alright for the
sake of the story.** **It's so sad that the story is coming to an end =[ But rest assured!
After a short break, I'm coming back with a new story! It was clear from your reviews that you
want a humor fic and I have the perfect one in mind. It's going to be called** **My
Confusing (and Hard to Believe) Love Life** **and is (surprise!) another AU. You'll have to
wait to see what the main plot will be but if you want a sneaky peak, visit my webpage. Since my
link last chapter didn't work out so we****ll****, I'll just** **put** **the
URL here:**

**http://www.addictedxdre****amer.webs.com/Brainstorming.htm**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine, people! If you think I'm JKR, I'm flattered
but have to dispute it. Besides, we all know she's too delusional to be on a HHR site in the
first place, right? Pun totally intended.**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**A Perfect Ending**

She didn't know whether to be relieved or burdened with the distraction that Mrs.
Weasley's lamb stew provided. On the one hand, she was saved from worrying too much on her
upcoming conversation with Harry. But on the other, a distraction was keeping her from thinking of
more ways to sway Harry to stay with her. Even though she didn't want to admit it—there was a
chance, a rather large one at that, that Harry would go to help capture the remaining Death Eaters.
His “saving people thing”, once appealing, was now making her feel as though she might die. Why
would he even have to think about choosing between her and giving his life over to the darkness? If
his destiny was fulfilled, why would he go back to it?

She shoved another spoonful of the hot stew into her mouth and swallowed greedily. All of this
was getting to her head. She needed to relax and not think about the situation for a while. Of
course, it was easier said than done. Unfortunately for her the reminders around her were endless.
Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Harry, Ginny, and even Draco—they were all reminding her in one way or another.
The specifics of why and how they were doing so is endless and rather complex, even in her mind. It
seemed as though no matter how hard she tried, there was no escaping the inevitable. Harry was
going to make a decision. A decision of which was more important: her or the Death Eaters. Well,
not *exactly* but close enough.

Was it a bad thing that she was seriously worried about what he would choose?

Her mind answered that for her: *Yes.*

She felt a shove on her shoulder and saw Draco smiling at her warmly from his seat beside her on
the cot. He had woken up as soon as Ron had opened the stew and made him pour some for his greedy
self. Ron's face was priceless when he saw that Draco was asking for his mother's stew. It
was like a mixture between disbelief, worry, and something so uniquely Ron that it was impossible
to describe. But as Draco tried to silently encourage her, though he did not know what for, she
couldn't help but give him a shrug in return. No smile, no words of wit, just a shrug. She
could tell that he wanted to help her, but it was hopeless. She was far beyond help. More like far
beside herself with worry.

Draco opened up his mouth (probably to ask what was wrong with her) but was interrupted by the
doors of the infirmary opening and revealing a grinning Mrs. Weasley holding two rather large boxes
to her chest. As she bustled over to them Hermione could see the labels more clearly: *Madame
Beatrice's Magical Bubbling Bath Salt**, guaranteed to cure any aches and pains or
your* *galleons* *back!*

Hermione couldn't help but smile as she finished reading. Molly Weasley never gave up when
it came to her family and their well-being, did she?

“I've asked Professor Dumbledore to secure a place where you can wash up and he locked down
the Prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor! Isn't that just lovely? Now, as soon as
you're done with your stew you can—oh! Well it looks like you've already ate it all right
up. Come on, then. I'll walk you to it.”

Hermione glanced down at her bowl and realized that she *did* consume the whole thing.
Harry seemed to have eaten all of his as well and was getting up off of his cot. He had chosen to
eat at his own bed instead of by her side, which was currently occupied by Draco. Since he had a
later start than the rest of him, he still had a good half of his stew left to eat. So when he got
up as well, the voice of Mrs. Weasley stopped him in his tracks.

“Oh no Draco, dear, not *you*. Just finish up your stew and you can join them after.”

Draco plopped back down on the cot and Hermione shot him a pitying look. He gave her a look in
return that said “It's okay” and encouraged her to go on. So, without further forces pushing
her, she followed behind Mrs. Weasley and Harry out the door and into the large hallways of
Hogwarts. She had to keep her distance for fear of accidently bumping into Harry and jumping him.
Not the good kind of jumping, either. The kind of jumping that resulted in physically injuring the
recipient in any area that was available to her bare hands. She chose to leave behind her wand
because she saw no use to need it. Plus, it was digging into her lower back since she had not
removed it from her back pocket. She rubbed the spot idly, feeling a slight patch of raised skin
and wincing.

They approached an odd looking statue of a wizard with his gloves on the wrong hands and
Hermione raised an eyebrow. She didn't have much time to observe the statue, however, because
they quickly passed by and went a few doors past it. Mrs. Weasley mumbled what Hermione assumed was
a password and the door easily opened. She followed at a safe distance behind Harry and took in a
large intake of breath as she saw the interior of the bathroom. Well, it didn't look like a
bathroom at all really. It was more like a large indoor pool, which was complimented by a single
diving board on the far end. The walls, floors, and single in ground bathtub were all carved in
white marble and lit softly by a candle-filled chandelier that looked like something out of a
palace. The tub was lined with around a hundred water taps, each with a differently colored jewel
set into the handle. She didn't know what the significance of that was. Maybe for decoration?
But as Mrs. Weasley approached them and twisted a few of the handles, the water that poured from
the spout was a differently colored form of bubble bath.

She straightened up with a smile at Harry and Hermione and reached behind the boxes she was
holding to produce two small pieces of fabric. She extended them with her free hand and Hermione
and Harry approached her and took one each. With further examination, she saw that she was holding
a deep blue swimming costume and as she looked to her side she saw that Harry was holding a bright
orange pair of swimming trunks. They looked up at Mrs. Weasley simultaneously and she hurriedly
explained. “I flooed home quickly to pick up some swimming costumes that you could wear. I
can't have the two of you swimming around in the buff around each other! That's just
unheard of.”

Hermione could help but giggle. It wasn't as if she hadn't seen *every* part of
Harry before. But Mrs. Weasley didn't have to know that. The elder woman continued in the same
tone as if she hadn't heard Hermione's slight outburst, “You can go ahead and put those on
while I fill this tub with my special salts. Go on!”

Hermione quickly found a pillar to change behind and proceeded to strip off her clothes while
Mrs. Weasley walked around the parameter of the tub and sprinkled the salt into the water. She
quickly slipped on the one-piece suit and pulled the straps over her shoulders. She assumed it was
Ginny's because of the low cut of the bust. As she emerged from the pillar she had to cover her
mouth because another giggle threatened to come out. She hadn't noticed when Mrs. Weasley
handed them the suits, but the one Harry was wearing was an ode to the Chudley Cannons. Their logo
was along one leg while the other had what looked to be autographs of each player stitched into it.
That was most definitely Ron's.

Mrs. Weasley returned to them a moment later and looked the two of them up and down. She nodded
to herself and grinned. “The bath's ready. I'll be just outside if you need anything.”

“You mean—you're not staying?” Hermione asked.

“No, dear. You don't need me in here washing your hair do you?”

“Well no…”

“Then I'll be just outside.”

Before Hermione could make another plea for her to stay, the door shut behind her. She really
needed to stop underestimating the speed of that woman.

She turned awkwardly towards Harry to see him already walking towards the diving board. She
watched as he mounted it and tested out its flexibility before walking backwards and doing a
flawless front flip and making a wide splash that spilled over the edges. There was no doubt in
Hermione's mind that he had done that before. Before he emerged, she chose to enter through the
small steps descending into the water. The hot water felt wonderful on her skin and as she took the
final step into the water, she caught the small scent of lilac. She did a single butterfly stroke
with her arms as she pushed away from the stairs and towards the opposite wall. She twisted so that
she was floating on her back and let the water carry her, not caring where she went as long as she
continued to feel like this.

Her moment, however, was spoiled with the sound of a very whiny voice echoing against the
walls.

“Hello Harry!”

She didn't realize that she had floated particularly close to him until she heard him let
out a quiet curse. “Oh umm… hello Myrtle.”

Hermione opened her eyes to see who Harry was addressing. And, more importantly, who had
interrupted her tranquil float throughout the tub. She let her body fall from the floating position
and almost bumped into Harry. *Seriously,* how *did he get so close?* She thought
agitatedly to herself. But all thoughts of Harry's close proximity to her were forgotten as she
saw the transparent form of the person—well, not really *person*, more like phantom—that had
interrupted her float. She looked very squat from her position around ten feet above their heads
with lanky hair, slight acne, and thick glasses similar to the shape of Harry's. Not
surprisingly, she liked them better on Harry. They made her head look a little too small for her
body. Well not body but—oh what was the point? What really mattered was that there was a ghost
floating above her and Harry's heads and he was somehow on speaking terms with it!

“I heard that you defeated he-who-must-not-be-named earlier today.” She commented quietly.

“Yeah.” He said shortly.

“Oooh that's simply wonderful!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You know
there's going to be a—who's *that*?”

It took Hermione a moment to realize that she was directing the comment at her. But before she
could properly introduce herself, Harry beat her to it. “This is Hermione Granger. She's my
friend.”

*Friend?**!* Hermione mentally screamed. She opened her mouth to protest, but she was
again beaten to it. This time, by the ghost named Myrtle. “Friend, hmm? She looks like something
more to me.”

*How could she tell that?* “I don't think that's any of your business.” Hermione
said quickly before anyone else could speak before her.

Hermione realized that she must have said the wrong thing. Because not even a moment after she
let the remark flow out of her lips, Myrtle soared down to her level with her face contorted into
one of disgust. “*Anything* in this school is my business. I *make* it my business to
know everything that goes on in here. You want to know *why*?” Harry was making a shaking
motion of his head that indicated: No, they did not want to hear why. But Myrtle ignored this and
pressed on. “Because in case you haven't realized, I'm dead!”

“I think I realized it the moment that I saw the chandelier while I was trying to look at your
face.”

Myrtle's eyes narrowed, “You think you're smart?”

“I *know* I'm smart.”

“Well then stay away from Harry! You're bad news—I can sense it.”

“With your supernatural ghosty powers?”

There was a pause. “Is that a fat joke?”

Hermione was floored. “*What?* How in the world could that—”

“I knew it! You're the second coming of Olive Hornby!” She sniffed. “Same… old… petty…
*jokes* about -hic- my weight! Next it's going to -hic- be my glasses and then my…
stringy… hair! You living girls are *cruel* and deserve the same fate as -hic- me!”

Hermione was speechless and could only watch as Myrtle exploded into hysterics and flew out of
the room through the nearest wall. Even after she disappeared she could still hear the high pitched
whines and sobs. She couldn't help but wonder… “What did I do?”

“Don't mind her.” Harry said calmly. “It's just Moaning Myrtle.”

Hermione turned to him, “Moaning Myrtle? That's suitable.”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah. She usually haunts the girl's bathroom on the second floor but I
think she has some sort of radar that tells her when I'm here. Nearly every time I'm here,
so is she.”

“Creepy.”

“She's not *so* bad once you get used to her. She did offer to share her cubicle with
me when I went to the Chamber of Secrets. It was a nice gesture—even though at the time I wished I
could live just so I wouldn't have to take her up on that offer.”

Hermione giggled and a thought struck her. “I bet she reacts like that every time you bring a
girl in here.”

“That would be true if I ever did that. I think you're the first girl that she's seen me
with.”

“Lucky me. I get to feel the wrath of an undead student with a supernatural crush on you.”

He laughed, “It's not as though she could do anything to you.”

“Are you kidding? She could sick the Bloody Baron on me if I'm not careful.”

“Don't worry.” He said, wrapping a protective hand around her shoulder. “I'll protect
you.”

Hermione felt the heat of his wet arm radiate throughout her whole body and pulled away. She
faced Harry, staring directly into his green pools. He must have seen the seriousness in her eyes
because he sighed. It was now or never. She *had* to know.

“You know what I want to hear, Harry. And don't tell me you haven't made your decision
yet because before Mrs. Weasley came into the room, you were about to tell me.” She said evenly. It
was a wonder that she could even form a single sentence with all of the pressure building up on her
shoulders.

He leaned against the edge of the tub and she saw his chest muscles flex as he relaxed slightly.
“I just want you to know that I… well that I've never really had a reason to stop fighting
before now.” He sighed, “Before you came, I had already made up my mind that if I defeated
Voldermort then I would spend the rest of my life helping ensure that someone like him would never
rise to power again.”

“But what about Ron—Ginny?” she asked curiously. Surely he wouldn't leave his friends behind
like that?

“Ginny… she… she wasn't the love of my life and I knew that. But she was all I had. The only
person that I could love that way—well that I knew of.” He shot a meaningful look at her, “I clung
to her for years and never even considered that there would be someone else. But when I thought
about what would happen after Voldermort—if there even *was* an after for me—I didn't
really see her in my life as potently as she was then. That scared me. What was life if she
wasn't in it? And then you came along and you asked me to try. Not in so many words but just
the fact that you stuck by me up until the end made me realize that I could never bear to lose you.
In Malfoy Manor, when I was being tortured, all I could think of was what my life would be like if
I survived and you know what I saw?”

Hermione shook her head out of reflex, totally captivated by his words.

“I saw you.” He smiled fondly, as if he were re-picturing it right then and there. “The two of
us we—we lived in a big house just off the coast. You were in a rocking chair and holding a… a
*baby* while two other toddlers were running around in the sand. And I was looking at the
whole scene as if I was there. It was like a painting—it was so serene. There was no looming
darkness, no responsibilities. Just *us*.”

“Harry that's—” she wanted to say `beautiful' but he interrupted her before she could
say it.

“Wait, I'm not done yet.” He held up a finger and Hermione couldn't help but smile at
the formality of it all. “And then I saw me, well, a younger version of me, I think it was
my—*our* son. And he said `Dad can you teach me to fly like you and Uncle Ron?' at first I
didn't really understand what he meant. But then he handed me my Firebolt and in the reflection
of his tiny glasses I saw me in a Puddlemore United uniform. I wasn't an Auror. I was with you,
with a family and doing the thing that I love most in the world.”

“Does that mean…?”

He nodded and grinned. “Yeah. I choose you.”

Hermione didn't realize that she had been crying until that moment. She let out a giant sob
and tried to smile, silently telling him that these were happy tears. He didn't catch it,
however, and pulled her to him in a warm embrace. She buried her head in the crook of his neck and
squeezed him tightly to her. He had chosen her! She didn't remember ever being this happy.
There was a small feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her she would look back at this
moment in the future.

Slowly, she pulled out of his embrace and put her forehead against his, her eyes closed to
prevent more tears from coming. She felt his head move against hers and she pursed her lips in
anticipation. His cool lips met hers softly, just heavy enough to provide a small sort of pressure.
It was a kiss of redemption; a kiss promising her the world. A kiss sealing their fate. If this was
what it felt like to know that you have the love of your life in your arms—then she had a lot to
look forward to.

She returned the pressure with her own lips and he moved his hands to her waist. He twirled them
around so that her back was against the edge of the tub. The water swirled around them and reminded
her that they were still in the bathroom. But if it weren't for the water up to her
mid-stomach, she would have thought that they were back in the boy's dormitory. Harry's
hands began to wander as he pressed her further up against the hard surface. In response, she
wrapped her legs around his waist and fisted her hands in his hair. His tongue probed at her lips
and she let him in without hesitation. She began to grind her body against his, silently telling
him what she wanted—all of him.

He smiled against her lips and tugged down the straps of her bathing costume. His lips left hers
to make a path down to her shoulder. She suddenly hated one-piece suits. If it weren't for
them, she would have what she wanted without all of this avoidance. Or maybe he *wanted* to
tease her? That was just cruel. But as he pulled the suit down to her stomach and took one of her
breasts into his mouth her complaint was soon forgotten. She moaned deep in her throat as she
arched into his touch. His tongue made a delicate circle around the small dot of sensitive skin and
then moved to the next to give it equal attention. She sighed as the cool of the room made it to a
small peak. Her legs unwound from his waist in ecstasy and she leaned against the wall to enjoy his
ministrations. He didn't stay in that region for long, much to her disappointment. He removed
his mouth from her chest and leaned up once more to capture her lips. Her hand, once immobile on
his nape, began a hot trail down his shoulder to his abs and ending at the bulge in-between his
legs. He tore his lips from hers to hiss and she gave him a wicked grin and began to stroke softly.
*Now* who was teasing whom?

She must have gotten her point across because he rushed to pull the rest of her suit down her
legs. She helped him get his trunks down just as quickly and as he positioned himself at her
entrance he looked in her eyes and said passionately. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He plunged deep within her and she groaned. Her legs returned to their position wrapped around
his waist. Their hips met each other in a rhythm only they knew. The room was filled with sounds of
pure euphoria as two became one once more. No matter how many times she thought about it, the
thought still made her stomach clench—but in a good way. In the same way that it was when she first
met him. She was with Harry. She was with him and would remain that way for as long as she lived.
This she knew. She was meant to be with him. Even if she never knew it a few months ago when she
accepted this mission it was true.

Her vision began to get fuzzy as the beginnings of fireworks shot off. With each thrust, it got
more and more visible. And then the moment came—the fireworks exploded into tiny sparks of bliss as
she came undone. She was unaware of the moans and breathes she was emitting from her throat as the
waves of pleasure moved through her with blessed ease. She rode them for what felt like an eternity
and heard Harry meet the same fate as she. Soon, the room was back to the eerie silence it held
before as they caught their breath and ended the connection between their bodies.

“*JUST YOUR FRIEND?!*”

Hermione recognized the voice immediately and clung to Harry to hide her modesty. They both
turned to see Moaning Myrtle floating above them once more with transparent tears running down her
face and neck. Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor soul. But as the room began
to fill with her screeches she took it back.

“Myrtle…” Harry started warningly.

“Don't even try to defend the slut!”

“Hermione is *not* a slut!”

“Oh then what word would you use? Floozy, harlot, bimbo, hooker, hussy, *tramp*?”

Hermione leaned into Harry and whispered, “For a ghost, she sure has an extended
vocabulary.”

“I HEARD THAT!” Myrtle screamed. “I *do* engage in activities other than wallowing in my
self pity.”

“Could've fooled me…” Hermione said quietly.

“Shut your trap you who—”

“Myrtle!” Harry interrupted loudly. “Please could you just leave us be?”

“Yeah Myrtle.” Hermione concurred.

Myrtle sniffed. “Well I suppose if *Harry* wants me to leave then I will.”

Hermione kept her mouth shut as Harry spoke up again. “Thank you, Myrtle.”

The ghost didn't respond. She floated sulkily through the same wall she exited earlier.
Hermione had to make a mental note to never be within visual distance of that wall from now on. As
soon as Myrtle was gone Hermione began laughing. She didn't know why—she just did. Harry pulled
away from her and studied her face. She soon sobered up and bit her lip. “I'm screwed in the
phantom world, aren't I?”

“You're going to be number one on their `Most Wanted' list by the end of the night.”

“That's reassuring.”

Harry chuckled and kissed her on the top of her head. “You know I'm just kidding. No one
listens to Myrtle.”

Hermione slapped him on the shoulder, “Harry!”

“What? It's true!”

Hermione rolled her eyes and felt around behind her. Her hand collided with a wet glob of fabric
and she began to pull it back on. Harry's eyes widened, “What are you doing?”

“Putting my suit on, genius.” She said smartly.

“But why?” He asked, putting his lower lip out.

“Because Mrs. Weasley is right outside the door and we need to get back to the hospital
wing.”

Harry sighed and looked behind him to the far end of the pool. His trunks were floating about
ten feet away from where they were and he began to swim over to fetch them. Hermione pulled the
rest of her swimsuit up and over her shoulders and saw Harry struggling with his trunks. She
giggled to herself and pulled out of the tub. The excess water dripped off of her in a rush and she
grabbed a towel from the pile in the corner to dry off. While she was working on her hair, Harry
came up behind her with a towel wrapped around his waist. He wrapped his arms around her and she
leaned into him.

“I'm sorry for being such a prick.” He said.

She shook her head. “You weren't. I expected too much of you—to give up your life for—”

“The only life that I have to live for is one with you.”

Hermione smiled. “You're so corny.”

“It's not corny if it's the truth.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and shrugged out of his embrace, walking towards the door. She heard
Harry follow after her shortly and opened the door, clutching the towel to her body. Mrs. Weasley
was sitting on the other side of the hall knitting what looked to be a scarf. She saw them exit and
quickly got up and pocketed her knitting in the front fold of her apron.

“Do you feel any better?”

Harry looked over at Hermione for a moment and smirked. “Loads, Molly. That salt was
amazing.”

“Yeah,” Hermione agreed. “It was pure bliss.”

She clapped her hands, “Fantastic! I knew all you needed was a nice relaxing bath and to fill
your stomach with stew. Thank Merlin that matron was away on call at St. Mungo's or who knows
what could have happened.”

Harry and Hermione both laughed. They departed from the hallway following the exchange and
Hermione groped on her side for Harry's hand. He caught it in his and gave it a squeeze. She
felt her stomach tighten and her face heat up—if only Mrs. Weasley knew *why* they felt so
much better. But it was probably better that she thought it was the work of her salts and stew.

They reached the hospital wing and when they entered saw a new occupant in the room. Hermione
recognized the familiar long dirty blonde hair of Luna Lovegood on one of the empty cots conversing
with Ron. He looked to be enjoying himself for the most part, not looking a bit out of it or bored.
Perhaps they were actually having a stimulating conversation?

Draco was alone on his bed, chewing on what appeared to be a large bar of chocolate. She felt
like she should go over and sit by him—to give him some company. But he looked up at her and gave
her a small wink, telling her that he was fine. His gaze dropped to her and Harry's interlocked
hands and she let her head droop guiltily. How could she be so insensitive? She was about to drop
Harry's hand when he gave her another silent plea. The small smile he shot her way told her
that it was fine. That he was going to be alright and not to worry about him. Hermione was thankful
to have a best friend like him. To put his wants behind her own.

Harry led her over to where Ron and Luna were sitting and waited until one of the two noticed
them standing there. Ron was the first to see them and grinned. Luna turned around after seeing
that his attention was averted from her and immediately looked at their hands. Hermione had to
wonder: Was there a shining light that their hands were giving off that got everyone's
attention? It was a simple gesture. Surely it couldn't be *that* noticeable to everyone.
Luna's eyes then met her own and she smiled dreamily.

“I hate to say I told you so but…” she fondled with one of her radish earrings.

“Luna you have every right to say that.” Hermione said warmly. “After all—you're the one who
brought me to my senses and made me see what was right in front of me.”

“Yes I suppose I did.” She said cheekily.

“Thank you, Luna. For everything.”

“It was my pleasure. Although I'm sure I wasn't the *only* one who saw it.”

“You're probably right.” Harry cut in. “But you were the first.”

Luna looked affronted, almost as though they had insulted her. “Of course I wasn't the
first!”

“But then who…?”

“The nargles of course,” She said hotly. “They're quite smart in their own right if you give
them enough credit. They're the ones who pushed you into each other, remember?”

“Umm… right.” Hermione said feebly..

“I believe you Luna.” Ron said suddenly. Hermione and Harry turned their heads sharply to him
and saw him smiling idly. “I mean, someone had to knock the sense into them. And if it wasn't
you then it had to be someone—or some*thing* that you had confidence in.”

Luna smiled brightly at him. “Precisely Ronald! I'm glad you understand.”

Ron looked elated with himself and only sobered up when he saw Harry and Hermione's twin
looks of bewilderment. “I uhh…” he tried to explain.

Harry held up a hand. “No need, mate. We'll let you get back to your conversation with
Luna.” He ended with a wink and led Hermione to her bed a few yards away.

She sat down gingerly and he mimicked her, sitting so close that their legs were touching. “What
was that about?” she asked quietly.

“I think our Ronnykins has found a new friend. If you know what I mean.” He said
suggestively.

Hermione's mouth formed a small “O” and she looked back over at the couple. Ron was resting
against the headboard with his hands tucked lazily behind his head, his feet crossed at the ankles
and stretching across the vertical angle of the cot. Luna was sitting near his hip with her legs
crossed Indian-style underneath her and looked to be telling a fascinating story using her hands to
accentuate it. All the while Ron had a silly smile plastered on his face and Hermione couldn't
help but chuckle.

“It's only a matter of time before we have to bring *them* to their senses.” She
commented jokingly.

“But before that happens,” Harry said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her tighter
to him, lifting her chin with his fingers. “I think we need to focus on ourselves and those future
children I saw running around.”

He kissed her forcefully and Hermione pulled back, faking a look of detest. “Why Mr. Potter no
one ever said that we were ever going to begin that this instant!”

“Yeah someone did!” He protested.

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Me.” He grinned cheekily before capturing her lips with his once more and she gave in.

The whole world seemed to fade in that moment. Their fate was now locked and it had nothing to
do with missions or destinies. All that was laid out before Harry and Hermione was a bright future
that was all up to them to decide themselves without anyone else telling them what they had to
achieve.

In other words: It was the perfect ending to a not-so-perfect story.

-->



25. Epilogue
------------



**A/N: Sorry about the lateness but… I just don't want to let this story go! Oh, and plus
it was the first week of school and I had absolutely** **no** **time *le sigh*. I hope you
all enjoyed reading this story at least half as much as I've enjoyed writing it! I'm going
to take a short break no more than a few weeks to get the hang of school and begin planning the
overall plot of my new story. I have the basic premise down but still need to work out a few kinks.
It was clear from your reviews that you would like to read a Humor fic so look out for** **My
Confusing (and Hard to Believe) Love Life** **coming sometime at the end of the month or early
October-ish.**

**And as for the soundtrack and score for this story, they can be found here:**
**http://addictedxdreamer.webs.com/Music.htm**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. Get off them drugs!**

**Enjoy!**

**-**

**Epilogue**

“You can't sleep, can you?”

“No.”

Hermione was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling and trying the age-old trick of counting
sheep. It was *not* helping. She had never been this uncomfortable in bed before—not even with
Damon, Jack, and Wyatt and they had been kickers. Not to mention she had already gone to the loo a
record seven times within the last three hours. Pregnancy sucked. She craned her neck to see Harry
looking at her with a small, sorry-filled smile. He had always wished that he could carry the kids
for her just so she could have a day or two off. The mood swings, the bathroom breaks every half
hour, the constant pains in her back and ankles. She wouldn't wish this kind of torture on
anyone let alone her husband.

Ah, her husband.

It seems like only yesterday that she and Harry had gotten married. The wedding had been
beautiful of course. It had been held at the Burrow per Mrs. Weasley's request and constant
pushing. Ginny was her maid of honor. Yes, Ginny. Hermione and Ginny had long since made up after
her and Harry went public with their relationship. It had been bumpy at first, but the two girls
had a long talk about everything. Hermione learned that Ginny *was* in love with Harry, but as
soon as she and Harry had grown closer and started to show subtle signs of something more than
friendship she had tried to gain back his attention, hoping that it wasn't true—hoping that
Harry was still in love with *her* and not Hermione. But during Christmas at the Burrow when
she saw her and Harry under the mistletoe she had come to terms with it. She didn't like it,
but she accepted it. When she completed her last year at Hogwarts she got recruited to be a chaser
for the Holyhead Harpies and took out her frustrations on others rather than her friends.

Ron had been Harry's best man, obviously. And seeing as how Luna was another of
Hermione's bridesmaids, he was ecstatic to spend more time with her. The two had grown
miraculously close and had even begun dating while Harry and Hermione were on their honeymoon. It
had taken a while to get used to, but in retrospect they *had* been the two people who had
made Hermione realize that she was in love with Harry. And if she and he had gotten their happy
ending, why shouldn't they?

About a month after Hermione and Harry had returned from their honeymoon and were informed about
Ron and Luna's young relationship, Hermione found out that she was pregnant. Harry was beside
himself when she told him and started planning the nursery right then and there. At first, she
didn't know if she wanted to be a mother or if she was even worthy of that responsibility. She
was happy that he was happy. But as soon as she went shopping for maternity clothes with Luna and
picked up a book on having a baby her mind was changed for the better. Of course, when she went
into labor six months after that her mind was changed again and she regretted ever having sex with
her husband.

Can you guess the last part? Yes. When she saw Damon's face for the first time everything in
her mind went blank. She loved him so much. He was six now and in a Muggle primary school. Hermione
and Harry had both agreed that their children should have a better understanding of both worlds
since Harry had been brought up with them and Hermione had never seen their side of the world. The
same went for their next child—or children. They were graced with twin boys two years after Damon
was born. They named them Jack and Wyatt. Both names had come from baby books that Hermione picked
up while Damon was named after the Greek legend of *Damon and Pythias*, one of Hermione's
favorite stories that she learnt about on their honeymoon in Greece. She had thought that they were
finished after three, but nine months ago today she had managed to get knocked up one more time.
Not that she wasn't happy about it! But it was nights like these that made her regret
forgetting the contraception charm.

She felt a small kick and rubbed her stomach, trying to calm the baby down. She wanted the sex
of the baby to be a surprise and Harry respected her wishes. Although with three boys she was
hoping for a girl that she could dress up.

“I'm sorry.” Harry's voice brought her out of her revere.

She smiled softly at him. “It's not your fault, Harry.”

There was a silence from his end and she knew that he knew it was a lie.

There was another harder kick from the baby and she continued to rub her stomach. She would
never get to sleep at this rate. Damn baby. *Kick.* She flinched and immediately rubbed her
stomach harder. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn that this baby was in tuned to
her thoughts. Harry must have seen her flinch or something because he leaned in and gently kissed
her on the lips. She smiled against the kiss in thanks and he pulled back slightly, letting their
noses bump.

“Just remember that it'll all be over soon.” He said softly. “And then we'll have
another pair of feet running around this house.”

“I can't wait.” She said with a grin. “To see his or her face for the first time is the
thing I'm looking forward to the most. The labor is just an added bonus.”

“I swear you've gotten more sarcastic after Jack and Wyatt were born.”

“Just one of their many gifts”

“If you don't count the lovely little surprises they leave in their training diapers every
afternoon.”

Hermione giggled but the smile faded as she felt yet another kick. Her face contorted for a
moment and Harry immediately became worried. “Hermione are you alright?”

“Yeah… I'm—ahh!” Another strong kick interrupted her sentence.

“What is it? Is it the baby?” He asked in a hurry, sitting up and putting a hand on her
protruding stomach.

“I-I don't know.” She said worriedly. “But last time it—” She seemed to have a sudden idea
and pulled the covers off of her and looked down. She came up with a wide-eyed expression.

“Hermione… you're scaring me.”

“Well one of us has to be calm enough to get me to St. Mungo's. My water broke!” She said
excitedly.

“You… it…” Hermione furiously nodded and he yelped. “Oh Merlin. Umm you get the suitcase and
I'll wake up the kids. Yeah? Alright let's… let's have a baby!” He jumped off of the
bed and scrambled into the nearby hallway to wake up the kids. Hermione heard a loud thump and
recognized the sound of bones against the hardwood floor and began to get up quickly to see what
happened.

“I'M OKAY!” Harry called as she reached the open door. He was brushing his bare chest and
pajama bottoms dramatically when he saw her and smiled charmingly. “I'm fine. Go and get the
suitcase. We're having *a baby*!”

He said it like they'd never done this before. Harry had never lost his enthusiasm even
after the first two times. Ironically, they had all happened at different times of the day. She
went into labor with Damon the morning after Harry had surprised her with a celebratory anniversary
dinner and shag. Jack and Wyatt chose to come out during one of the Weasley brunches they attended
every Sunday. Mrs. Weasley had pointed out to Hermione that she looked peaky and recognized the
sign of labor immediately. Her room at St. Mungo's that day had been nothing short of a full
house.

And now it was eleven at night and she was going back to the hospital. Lovely.

Hermione pulled the medium-sized suitcase from under their bed and double checked that
everything was in place. She knew that she had checked every night before, but now that the moment
was finally here she couldn't help but make sure that everything was still there. Maybe the
nargles could have taken them? She laughed to herself. She knew that one day Luna would get into
her head.

She zipped up the suitcase and began to heave it up when a pair of small hands tugged it away
from her. Damon was shaking his mane of raven hair as he looked at her pointedly with his deep
brown eyes. “You shouldn't carry this in your condition.”

Hermione held her laughter and looked at him with her arms crossed. “Did your father put you up
to this?”

He puffed out his chest dramatically like he always did when she asked that question. “We men
have to stick together!” Hermione raised an eyebrow and he deflated his chest with a big outtake of
breath. “He said to not let you lift a finger.”

“Oh did he?” He nodded furiously and tugged on the suitcase harder, fully taking it out of her
grip. “Damon!”

He shrugged. “Sorry Mum… Dad's orders”

She sighed. “And I suppose there's no arguing with your father.”

“Yep”

Hermione turned towards the door to see Harry holding a sleeping Jack in his hands. “Where's
Wyatt?” she asked cautiously.

He motioned downwards and she saw the toddler gripping onto his left leg. She smiled at the
tender picture but immediately recoiled when she felt another kick of pain which she now
distinguished as the all-too-familiar contractions. Damon's eyes widened but he still tried to
keep a calm composure. He was in the “I'm a big boy mummy!” phase and didn't want Hermione
to see him scared. After all, it was his first time seeing his mum like this that he could actually
remember. All that he could recall from Wyatt and Jack's birth was his dad rushing him to the
hospital and falling asleep in a really white room.

Harry's face hardened as he switched into his Dad-mode and said sternly, “Alright Damon
follow behind your mum and keep a close eye on her in the car, alright? I'm going to need you
to do everything she says.”

Damon nodded and followed behind his mum as the family proceeded to the car. With the first
pregnancy, they were warned that apparating was dangerous and floo was the safest route. But they
both figured since flooing usually ended up with them on the floor on their stomachs or back,
purchasing a Muggle car would be their best bet. Harry had gotten his license before Damon was born
and now used the car for business and when Hermione was in labor—which proved to be quite often
nowadays. It wasn't too flashy of a car. Harry wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible so he
purchased a dark blue minivan from the local dealership. He had considered charming the car much
like Mr. Weasley had done with the Ford Angela, but decided against it once he recalled what had
become of it. He didn't feel like buying a replacement any time soon.

Hermione got into the passenger side and Damon helped her buckle her seatbelt. She thanked him
and ruffled his hair, a silent reassurance that she would be alright. He smiled and got into the
back directly behind her. Harry strapped Jack and Wyatt into their car seats that he had recently
purchased in anticipation for this moment. He and Hermione had practiced buckling the contraptions
a few times but Harry had had the most difficulty. It was a wonder to him why they had to be so
complicated. He finally strapped the two dozing toddlers into their seats and rushed to the front.
He started the car in a flurry as Hermione began to control her breathing.

They lived on the outskirts of Muggle London and were therefore a good five minutes away from
St. Mungo's. Harry didn't want to be caught speeding so he went the maximum amount of kilos
until they finally reached the abandoned red-brick department store. Damon rushed out of his seat
and opened the door for his mother just as she was about to herself. She still couldn't get
used to the fact that her six-year-old son was acting so grown up. He extended his hand out in a
gentlemanly manor and she took it. He tugged her out of the minivan and walked her up to the dummy
and waited for his father who was struggling with getting the twins out of their seats.

Harry swore as he nipped one of his fingers on the metal clip and turned to Damon. “Go on in
with your mum, Damon. You remember how to get in, don't you?”

Damon nodded, still gripping onto his mother's hand tightly. The dummy turned to the pair
and he spoke in as calm of a voice as he could produce. “My mum's gonna have a baby. Let us in,
please.”

The dummy nodded and Damon led Hermione through the window. The reception room came into view
and Damon made a beeline for the desk, passing the Welcome Witch's plastic grin. There was an
elderly woman with silver hair scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment on the other side of
the desk. When she heard the sound of footsteps her head shot up and she saw Hermione's
slightly sweating forehead and enlarged stomach.

“My mum's having a baby, miss. She needs a room, please.” Damon said with a slightly
trembling voice. It seemed that as the moment was drawing nearer his calmness was fading.

“Of course,” She said at once. “Let me get you a wheelchair Mrs.—?”

“Potter,” Hermione said with slight strain. “Hermione Potter.”

The witch's face changed to one of sheer delight at the mention of her surname and she
called for one of the nurses in a loud voice. “PRESCOTT!”

A petite witch with bright red hair and rosy cheeks came forward with a wheelchair gripped in
her small hands. She was slightly out of breath as she instructed, “Right here, Mrs. Potter.”

As Hermione lowered herself into the chair, Harry came stumbling in with both twins in each of
his arms. He saw that Hermione was already taken care of and let out a small amount of air in
relief. Damon looked at his father and saw that he looked rather pale, a sure sign of nervousness.
He looked how Damon felt. But he was better at hiding it than his father, a trait that didn't
go unnoticed by simple onlookers and family.

“Damon.” Hermione called from her seat. He reeled around to his mother and she glanced at Harry
for a moment to see him nodding for her to go along. “I need you to floo Grandma Molly and tell her
to come on over, alright? She'll floo everyone else and they can keep you company in the
waiting area. But I'm going to need you to look after Jack and Wyatt until they get here. Can
you do that for me?”

Remembering what his father had told him, he nodded. Hermione smiled and was wheeled off into
the Maternity Ward. This section had its own waiting area and as they arrived Damon felt an
overwhelming sense of déjà vu. The walls were a pale yellow color and the carpet was white with
little patterns of teddy bears and rattles. The seats were all along the walls and towards the
middle with small areas of mini-chairs and boxes of toys. Watching his two younger brothers was
going to be easier than he thought.

Harry put down Jack and Wyatt before speaking to Damon one last time. “Remember son, floo
Grandma Molly and make sure that Jack and Wyatt don't get into any mischief.”

Damon glanced at his two sleeping siblings and raised an eyebrow at his father. “I think
I'll be alright, dad.”

“That's my boy.” Harry said. He gave him a brief hug and followed Hermione as she was
wheeled into the nearby hallway.

They were led to a medium-sized room with a single bed and chair near the window. All rooms in
St. Mungo's looked the same, they had come to notice. White walls, white floors, white linins,
white bed sheet. White *everything*, it seemed. Hermione was helped into the semi-comfortable
bed with a raised upper half and pulled the blankets over herself.

The nurse smiled kindly at the couple. “The doctor will be here momentarily. Is there anything I
can get you, Mrs. Potter?”

Without skipping a beat Hermione responded mechanically. “A cup of ice chips and your strongest
pain-relieving potion, please.”

The nurse nodded and turned to exit. She closed the door behind her and Hermione collapsed on
the bed with a giant *whoosh*. Harry chuckled and moved the chair so that he could be seated
next to her. Hermione smiled as she saw him pull up by her. It was very rare nowadays that they
could ever be alone with the kids and their time-consuming jobs. Hermione chose to spend her time
at home and wrote books for a living—fiction, non-fiction, autobiography; you name it, she's
written it. She had wanted to work for the ministry, but when she found out she was pregnant she
had to scrap that idea. When Hogwarts first ended, she and Harry had moved in together and she
worked part-time in a local bookstore to help pay the bills. She had to quit after she had Damon,
of course. And soon after she decided to stay at home and do the thing she loved to do most: Read
and write.

Before she could marvel any more on the subject, Harry enveloped her hand with his and squeezed.
“How are you feeling?”

“Shitty.” She replied honestly.

He flinched and tried to think of a proper response. “Is there anything I can do?”

She shook her head. “All I need are those ice chips and pain-relieving potion and I'll be
fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Sorry to disappoint you. I know you'll get bored of me sometime in the next few
hours.”

He smiled goofily. “I could never get tired of you, Hermione.”

She scrunched her nose. “You big suck up.”

“And proud of it!” He said cockily as he leaned in to give her a light peck on the lips.

As he pulled away she spoke in a whisper. “Do you think we deserve all of this?”

“All of what?” He asked.

“*This*.” She gestured to the room. “Damon, Jack, Wyatt, our jobs, our lives together.”

“What are you on about Hermione?”

“Well it's just… I dunno. After all that we've been though do you think that this is
what we're getting as a reward or is there some consequence that's still out there?”

He looked at her pointedly as he leaned in closer to her and spoke in a passionate tone. “I
think that this life has just begun and we shouldn't be worrying about any consequences. If we
weren't meant to be together do you think that we would have any of this? Jobs that we love,
friends that would do anything for us, our kids? Merlin, our *kids*. I think that pretty much
answers your question.” Hermione giggled. “But if there *is* something else out there after us
because of our decisions, I know that we'll overcome it. *You* know that.”

Hermione nodded, tears threatening to pour from her eyes. “I know, I know. I don't even
remember why I thought about it. I guess it's just that our life seems too perfect
sometimes.”

“We deserve it. After all the shit the two of us have been through we deserve to be together and
happy. I love you, Hermione. Just as much if not more than I did when I first met you.”

“Oh Harry I—OW! Goddamn it!” Another contraction interrupted her mid-sentence and she squeezed
Harry's hand hard. He flinched but didn't say anything. He knew that it was only a fraction
of the pain that she was going through.

A bead of sweat went down her forehead and Harry grabbed a tissue from the table beside them to
wipe it as the contraction came to an end. Her breathing was ragged and her eyes hooded. Oh how he
wished he could help her. She looked so helpless lying there. But as her body relaxed all that
mattered was helping her along to the best of his ability. He had learned with the past two trips
to St. Mungo's that the only thing he was going to be good for was reassurance and
encouragement. She was going to need all she could get.

“Where is that nurse with my damn potion?!” She said in frustration.

“And ice chips.” Harry added.

“Yeah and the damn ice chips.”

“She'll be here soon, love. I promise.”

Not even a minute later, the nurse came back in with a cup filled with ice chips and purple
potion. She handed the cup to Hermione and she greedily snatched it and began eating them. The
nurse didn't seem to be thrown aback and handed Harry the potion. “Give it to her when the
doctor instructs you. It won't be until she is about four centimeters dilated or so.” Harry
nodded and the nurse smiled. “If you need anything else ask for Nurse Prescott.”

With that, Nurse Prescott exited and Harry placed the potion out of Hermione's reach on the
windowsill. He was familiar with the guidelines by now. If Hermione asked for the potion he had to
say no until the doctor instructed otherwise. He returned to his seat and caught Hermione placing
the ice chip cup on the bedside table. She looked more relaxed than she had just moments ago and
for that he was grateful. He resumed their earlier position with his hand interlocked with hers.
She gave him a tired smile.

“I hope I'm not too unbearable this time.”

“Not likely.”

She chuckled. “Just remember that I'm not liable for my actions.”

He nodded. “Duly noted.”

Another contraction hit Hermione and she doubled over in pain. She recited the practice
breathing techniques that didn't seem to help at all. She bit back asking for the potion. She
knew that this was far from the worse. Harry's hand was being squished tightly by her own and
began turning a pale shade of blue until she chose to let go as the pains came to an abrupt stop.
She collapsed back to the bed and allowed Harry to wipe her forehead once again.

Hermione was too busy recuperating that she didn't hear the healer enter the room. Harry
looked up, though, and recognized the familiar face. “Hello Healer Stonem.”

The young doctor smiled at Harry, “Good evening Mr. Potter… Mrs. Potter.”

She heard the healer's voice and opened her eyes a fraction. “Hey doc. Can I have my potion
yet?”

Healer Stonem chuckled deeply, “Well let's take a look and see, shall we?” Hermione nodded
furiously and he took up a seat on the stool at the edge of the bed as Hermione lifted her legs so
that her knees were in the air. He lifted the blanked and peeked inside. “How far apart have your
contractions been, Mrs. Potter?” he asked as he emerged from under the blanket.

“Around five—AHH!” Hermione began the process yet again and the room went eerily silent as she
finished. She took a moment to regain herself and she spoke in a tired voice. “Well that one threw
me off. I would say two minutes.”

Healer Stonem nodded and scribbled something down on his clipboard. He brushed some of his dark
brown hair out of his eyes and looked at Harry. “You can give her the potion. She's almost
fully dilated.”

“Really?” She asked, surprised. “Last time I was in labor for eleven hours.”

The healer nodded. “Yes well it seems like this one wants to see you sooner than that.
You're seven centimeters dilated.”

“Seven?!” Harry and Hermione shouted in unison.

“Yes, seven. You won't have wait more than an hour this time.”

“Oh thank Merlin.” Hermione said in relief. “The sooner the better, right?”

“That's the spirit!” Healer Stonem said cheerily. “Now Mr. Potter, I'll be back in a few
minutes. In the meantime give your wife the potion because her contractions are going to get closer
and closer together.”

“Fantastic.” Hermione muttered dryly as the healer exited.

Harry walked over to the windowsill and gave Hermione the potion. She gulped it down quickly and
thanked him. He nodded and sat back down. He looked at the clock and saw that it was 11:20, only
twenty minutes since they had left the house. He hadn't realized that someone could go into
labor that quickly. But his wife was capable of anything. That he was sure of. He felt her begin to
squeeze his hand again and prepared himself for the next hour.

~*~

*Meanwhile in the waiting room…*

Damon had flooed his Grandma Molly and they had yet to arrive. He wasn't worried, though.
Not at all. They had a big family that had to be notified. Besides, his brothers were sound asleep
and the job he was assigned to do was proving to be a boring one. Not that he wanted them to wake
up! They were little terrors when they woke up. He was only six, not sixteen. His energy levels
could only remain high for so long.

He took a seat in one of the small children's chairs and fiddled with a toy snitch. It
seemed to be broken so he threw it back into the bin and put his head in his hands, watching his
two brothers sleep instead. He should have remembered to bring his own toys. Somewhere in the back
of his mind he knew he would pack them for next time. If there *was* a next time.

The floo area on the other side of the waiting room began to make the noises of incoming people
and Damon straightened up, looking to see if it was who he was waiting for. He spotted a familiar
patch of red hair and grinned. Mrs. Weasley brushed away the excess floo powder from her skirt and
turned to see Damon waving enthusiastically at her. She rushed over to her grandson for all
intensive purposes and enveloped him in a tight hug, spinning him around.

“Ohhh Damon isn't this *exciting*? Another brother or sister on the way?”

Damon shrugged as she put him down. “I dunno. Maybe.”

Mrs. Weasley laughed and her eyes found the sleeping forms of Wyatt and Jack. “Ohhh poor dears.
They've just tired themselves out from all the excitement.”

“Actually Grandma Molly, they've been like that since we got here.”

Mrs. Weasley waved a hand dismissively. “Oh never mind that. It's a good thing I brought
some extra quilts.”

From one of her pockets, she pulled out a square of multi-patched fabric and Damon watched as
she rid it of the shrinking charm. She shook it out a bit and placed it on top of the heavily
breathing twins. She smoothed down their identical manes of ebony hair and refrained from kissing
them, afraid that she might awaken them. She turned back to Damon, “Do you know how you're
mum's doing?”

Damon shook his head dejectedly, “No. I saw her a while ago, though. She kept on breathing
really hard and clutching the baby.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded. “Well I'm sure she'll be fine.”

Damon nodded with his mask still in place. Mrs. Weasley took a seat next to the children's
area and picked up a copy of *Witch Weekly* from a nearby rack. Damon didn't know what he
was supposed to do now that his Grandma Molly was here. She clearly was looking after his brothers
now. His question was doomed to remain unanswered as the floo area erupted with life once again.
His neck snapped and he saw his Uncle Ron and Aunt Luna come from the nearest fireplace with a
slight wobble to their step.

Ron spotted him first and opened his arms wide for a hug. Damon laughed and sprinted over to his
uncle. Ron let out an audible *umph* as he caught Damon in a flying hug. “What has your mum
been feeding you, Damon? You've gotten so big!”

“Vegetables.” Damon replied simply as Ron let him down.

Ron sniffed in disgust. “Well that just won't do at all, will it? Lucky for you I brought
some sweets with me.”

Ron reached in his pocket and handed Damon a bag filled to the rim in sweets. This was one of
the reasons he loved his Uncle Ron. He gave him candy whenever he wanted. Damon was convinced they
shared the same sweet tooth until he caught his dad sneaking some *Bertie Bott's* one
night while his mum was at a book signing. But either way, he knew that whenever he wanted to sneak
some candy behind his mum's back, Ron was always there.

Damon took the bag from Ron's hand quickly and promised himself he'd save it for later.
Considering the circumstances, he thought that if he had some now, it might make him feel guilty
when his mum was in so much pain because of the baby. He didn't think he would ever know why
the baby was hurting her so much. What had she ever done to it?

He put the bag of sweets onto floor underneath his seat for later. He was about to hug his Aunt
Luna but a voice behind him prevented him from doing so. “Why is it that my godson won't even
give me a simple hello?”

Damon grinned and turned around to give his Uncle Draco a hug bigger than the one he had given
to Ron. Uncle Draco was undoubtedly his favorite because he always made him laugh and treated his
mum almost as good as his dad did. Like a princess. Anyone who was nice to his mum deserved his
respect.

“Now that's more like it!” Draco said with a laugh. “Take *that* Weasley, he likes me
more!”

“That's just because you buy him stuff.” Ron said with a scoff.

“And you don't?” Draco said, motioning to Damon's stash of sweets.

“That's for all of them!” Ron defended.

Damon was affronted. “HEY!”

Ron blanched. “Sorry Damon, but your mum would kill me if you ate that whole thing. You need to
share with you brothers.”

Damon sighed. “Fine. But I get first dibs.”

Ron laughed. “Of course. The little tykes lost that opportunity when they fell asleep.”

“Who fell asleep?” A feminine voice asked from behind Ron.

Ron moved aside to reveal the disheveled form of Ginny in nothing but her wool pajama top and
bottoms with a robe covering down to her knees. Her hair was in braids tied together with strips of
ribbon and an eye mask was resting lopsided on her head. “Aunt Ginny!”

“Hey squirt!” Damon crashed into her with a big hug equal to the ones he had given both his
uncles. “How's my favorite godson?”

“I'm you're *only* godson, Aunt Ginny.” Damon said smartly.

Ginny snapped her fingers. “Ah that's right. Thanks for reminding me.”

“GINERVA MOLLY WEASLEY JUST *WHAT* DO YOU THINK YOU ARE WEARING?!”

“Mum, it's just my pajamas.” Ginny said with annoyance.

“Exactly! I told you to get dressed before you came! You have had *plenty* of time to
change!”

“That doesn't mean I wanted to. Honestly mum, there are people all around this place with
less on.”

“That may be so but I do not want my daughter to be seen gallivanting around St. Mungo's in
a *bathrobe*. And your hair looks like there could be a bird nest somewhere in there.”

Ginny gritted her teeth. “I was sleeping mum. I had a cup of coffee before I came so I could be
awake.”

“You had time to have coffee but not to get dressed?”

“Yes.”

Luna, deciding to break up the fight before it got too ugly, spoke up. “Where's Dean,
Ginny?”

Ginny suddenly went from aggravated to forlorn. “He umm… he moved out last night.”

“Oh Ginny, I'm so sorry.” Mrs. Weasley said softly.

“It's fine. You didn't know.”

“What happened?” Luna asked as she slowly walked over towards her.

“It was just… I don't know. I think the fighting just got too overwhelming for the both of
us. It was over the stupidest things, too. I'm kind of relived to be honest. It's nice to
live alone for a while.” She ended with a smile. “I can go to sleep like this now.”

Luna enveloped her friend in a tight hug. The two girls held tight to each other for a few
moments before pulling apart. Ginny wiped at her eyes and smiled. “Enough about my piteous
existence. Any news about Hermione and the baby?”

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. “Not a word.”

Ginny sighed. “This is exactly what happened last time. Not a word until we hear—”

“Hermione's going to have the baby!”

The whole group turned around to see Harry clad in a white robe and cap, holding his arms out
wide. “She's going into delivery!”

“Already? But didn't her—” Mrs. Weasley began.

“Yeah I know. It's going by pretty fast but everything is normal. Now if you'll excuse
me I'm going to go and be a father—again!” Harry sprinted back into the hallway.

“I swear, that guy gets more and more enthusiastic with every kid that they have.” Draco said
dryly.

“I think it's cute.” Ginny said. “Even after three kids he's still excited to be a
father.”

“Reminds me of Arthur…” Mrs. Weasley recalled lightly. “Even by the time we had Ginny he was as
excited as ever.”

Ginny smiled proudly and Ron rolled his eyes. “Not that this isn't touching and everything…
but what we all want to know is how those two demons are asleep.” Ron said, gesturing to Wyatt and
Jack.

Ginny turned to them and her eyes widened. “*They're* the ones asleep? How did that
happen?”

Damon thought that he was the only one who could answer that truthfully as he had been the one
to help wake them up. Plus, he didn't like to be quiet for that long. “They had their first day
at daycare today.”

They all let out a collective “Ohhhh” and left it at that. They didn't need to know that
Damon had slipped a sleeping drought in their pumpkin juice. He didn't bother feeling regret
about it either. He deserved a day or two off from the “demons”, as Ron had put it.

After that, the room grew quiet as everyone took seats. They all knew that it wouldn't be
long until Hermione had the baby. There were hushed conversations between small quickly-formed
groups. Damon kept to himself and chose to dig through the toy chest again, as if another toy would
magically appear. A few other members of the Weasley family arrived within the next few minutes:
Fred, George, Bill, and Fleur. Charlie was away on business as usual and couldn't make it, same
with Arthur. All the family had left to do was wait.

It wasn't unbearably long. Within ten minutes, Harry was back outside with a silly grin
plastered on his face. “IT'S A GIRL!”

The room erupted in cheers. George seemed to be the only one with a sour expression as he gave
his twin brother ten galleons. Damon was beside himself. He couldn't believe that he had a
little *sister*. Instantly he felt a rush of something come over him. Was this what he felt
like before when Jack and Wyatt were born?

Harry came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to meet her?”

Damon nodded quickly and grabbed his dad's hand. He looked back at everyone else to see
Ginny and Ron giving him equally enthusiastic thumbs up. He didn't know quite how to take their
encouragement but tried to use it to his advantage. He was going to see his little sister for the
first time! He beat everyone else and he should be proud. His high-and-mighty feeling only lasted a
good ten seconds, because when he entered his mum's room and saw her holding a pink bundle his
whole mind went blank.

Hermione looked up from her new daughter's sleeping form and grinned as she saw Harry and
Damon enter. Damon's frozen form was so adorable that she had to refrain from giving him a hug.
Harry nudged him in the shoulder and muttered a quiet “Go on.”

He followed his father's wishes and walked slowly to Hermione and the new addition to their
family. She patted the bed next to her and he jumped up. She tilted the newborn baby to him and he
reflexively held out his arms to hold her. As Hermione helped him with the position slightly she
said softly. “Damon meet your new sister Emma.”

Damon smiled down at her, “Hi Emma.”

It was a heartwarming picture, the three of them. But even Hermione noticed the absence of two
rather rowdy toddlers. “Where are Wyatt and Jack?”

“Sleeping.” Harry answered.

“*Sleeping?*”

Damon focused his attention on Emma and tried his best to keep a straight, guilt-free face. Only
his mother seemed to be the one who could see through him so he avoided her gaze.

“Damon you wouldn't happen to know what has gotten into them, have you?” Hermione asked
him.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” He said quickly.

Unfortunately for him, that sentence was hereditary and spilled from Harry's lips when he
wanted to avoid something. “Damon James Potter *what* did you do this time?”

~*~

*Three days later…*

Harry arrived with a *pop* onto the front lawn of their home after another grueling
practice. He swore that Oliver Wood was going to kill them one day. He didn't think that the
muscles in his back would be the same for weeks. As he massaged his back he caught sight of his
wife rocking back and forth in the rocking chair on the front porch. She was holding Emma and
singing softly to her; a familiar tune.

Wyatt and Jack were running around the front yard, the effects of Damon's sleeping drought
worn off. Harry knew that Damon meant well—and by that he meant thinking of his own well being
rather than the health of his brothers. So the hyperactive tots were back and Harry couldn't
have been happier. It really was the perfect picture of a family. What he always wanted. In fact, a
certain aspect of this scene seemed oddly familiar to him… like he had seen it before.

“Dad?” Damon's voice interrupted his thoughts.

He looked down at his son's eager face. “Yeah bud?”

“Dad can you teach me to fly like you and Uncle Ron?”

*Oh my God.* He remembered! It was the vision he had all those years ago. The scene flashed
before him just like it was playing out now—so vivid. Except this time it was real. Now it was his
turn to decide how it ended instead of the blackness that followed last time. He smiled down at his
son and nodded. “Sure, son.”

Damon whooped and mounted the broom in front of Harry. He knew that he had only a moment before
Hermione caught what he was doing so he quickly put his arms around Damon and kicked off just
before Hermione could finish her sentence of “Harry what do you think yo—”

Harry steered them upwards towards the sky and could sense Hermione's glare from below. He
chose to ignore it as he began to level the broom. As they reached twenty feet above ground Harry
placed his son's hands on the broom gingerly. “Keep it steady, Damon.”

He let his son guide them towards the nearby patch of trees at a steady speed. It looked like
they had another natural Quidditch star on their hands. Harry let the breeze sweep over him and
blow his already untidy mane of hair out of proportion.

Hermione watched as Harry and Damon flew off towards the distance. She sighed and decided to
leave them be. For now. When they got back, however, it would be a different story.

**The-End**

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