Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: So things really start rolling into action in this chapter. I hope it was worth the wait! I'd like to thank all of you who have reviewed, especially those who take the time to consistently review. 98 reviews may not make this the most popular story on Portkey, but it is more than I expected and very inspiring!

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CHAPTER 11: Paris in Flames

"When your mother died she let out the most blood curdling scream I've ever heard. Mind you, I've heard a lot of final protestations before murdering people, but her scream was so sorrowful I actually remember it."

"Fascinating" Harry muttered, burying his face in an over plush black pillow. Of course Malfoy Manor would have an inescapable prison tower, and of course it would be decorated with drab black colors and a plethora of twisting snakes. When Harry had asked Draco to put him someplace he wouldn't be able to break out of he had pictured a dripping prison cell in the dungeon. But Draco had insisted that the prison tower was far more secure, and so far Harry couldn't argue. At first Tom Riddle's cruel words had gotten under his skin and triggered his uncontrollable wandless magic. There was debris all over the room to prove it, but the dark wood paneling of the walls hadn't so much as splintered. At this point, Riddle's words were becoming a dull buzz in his ear and he hardly cared. "If all you can do is annoy me with your incessant chatter I don't think you have much hope for taking over my body."

"You doubt me? I'm growing ever more certain that I can drive you insane. I don't need sleep or food but you do. And as you grow weaker I will grow stronger."

"I told you-"

"Yes, you'll slit your wrists before you let it happen. Such melodrama."

"You doubt it?" Harry grunted, standing up amongst the wreckage of what was once a four-poster bed. He picked up a particularly pointy shard of wood as though to prove his point.

"No, I don't doubt you'd kill yourself. Actually, based on my memories of you I am convinced that you are quite possibly the most suicidal little boy to ever live. Don't you value the life your Mommy gave you at all?" Harry said nothing, simply tossing the splinter ineffectually at the spot where the image of Tom Riddle was standing. It passed through him and clattered loudly on the floor. "You won't kill yourself for the same reason you didn't stay dead when I killed you at the Battle of Hogwarts. Guilt. You feel like you need to stay alive to save everyone. Which is convoluted since everyone would probably be far safer if you were dead."

"Taking credit for killing me in the Battle of Hogwarts now? I thought you were trying to distance yourself from the `Voldemort' part of yourself. You can't despise him and be him at the same time."

"Oh but I can. Self-loathing can be a powerful thing. Just look at yourself; fighting and bleeding every day of your life so you don't have to face the reality of what you are; a lonely, homeless murderer. You hate yourself so much you'd rather go to war than deal with yourself."

"Now you're just making no sense" Harry sighed, sitting down on the pillow lazily. He marveled at the fact that of all the things he'd blown up in his fury, the plump pillow had gone un-touched.

There was a sudden knocking on the door and he walked quickly towards it, both excited by this change in the tedium of Riddle's company and fearful that someone would come walking in and he'd hurt them. "Who is it?"

"It's me" said a small voice that he recognized right away. Logically, Harry knew Hermione would come to him, she always did. But some small part of him feared that with all he'd put her through and the way he had been acting as of late, she would have given up on him.

"Don't come in" he responded, but there was tenderness in his voice to indicate that he was glad she was there.

"I know, Malfoy filled me in on what happened. I can't believe you took Odyssea. It's an illegal potion Harry, it could have killed you. Not that the side-effects aren't bad enough as it is."

"Are you going to lecture me or help me?" he said, his tone joking but with undertones of panic.

"I'm here to help you of course. I tried to do some research before I went to Paris, but I've found nothing about shared consciousness. I'm afraid-- I don't know what I'm doing." Her admittance to a lack of knowledge scared him, but mostly he was concerned about how sad and afraid she sounded herself.

"Are you going to tell her the truth Potter? I could tell her for you if you like. Just let me take over..."

"NO" Harry said sternly, using everything Malfoy had taught him to regain control of his thoughts and emotions. After a few quick breaths he was back to himself, and while the tall black-haired boy was still pacing about behind him, Harry was able to tune out Riddle's jabbering until it became a dull roar. "I trust you Hermione. Just do what you can. I'm fine- I'll be fine."

He hoped the words conveyed more certainty than he felt, and they seemed to do the trick as a moment later he heard the sound of her footsteps retreating and once more he was alone in his prison of destruction with the worst inmate imaginable.

**************

"You may have done something wrong when you brewed the potion" Hermione suggested, not for the first time as she, Ginny and Draco scoured the extensive Malfoy Manor library for something to help explain Harry's hallucinations of Tom Riddle.

"Granger, I am telling you I did not. Odyssea is a relatively simple potion compared to the complexities of Werewolf Fang Pensive, and I managed to brew that without a problem."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, looking up from her book to meet his silver-grey gaze for the first time. When they had arrived at the Manor it had certainly been uncomfortable, and that was putting it pleasantly. Hermione did not trust Malfoy, and Ginny downright despised him. It was clear that Draco had no affection for either of the girls either, and so Hermione had dispensed with the small talk as soon as they arrived, instead firing every pertinent question she could think to ask at the moody former Slytherin. Draco had been agitated by her brisk, judgmental manner, but kept his usual biting repartee to the minimum.

Even as Hermione interrogated Draco, she avoided making eye contact for more than a fleeting moment or two. The last time she had been in Malfoy Manor she had been tortured by Malfoy's crazy aunt. She had done well at managing to push that thought away, but when she looked at Draco she would suddenly remember that he had watched, that he had seen her cry out in pain. The sensation of the memory was like a kick in the gut each time, and she felt the helplessness of that moment submerge her once more, pulling her into a whirlwind of emotion that was divided between the desire to hide somewhere and cry and the desire to hex Mafloy to a pulp.

Thus, she had avoided looking at him so that she could focus all of her attention on the one person who mattered most; Harry.

She looked back down at her book, tearing her gaze away from Draco's and trying to think of anything but the word "Mudblood" and the excruciating pain that accompanied having it etched into her arm. There were still light scars on her wrist from it, like very thin spider webs. The word wasn't visible, and even the scars were very hard to see, but she knew they were there. She suddenly realized she was rubbing her arm subconsciously and abruptly stopped.

"From what I hear, when Harry arrested you, you were howling at the moon" Ginny muttered after a few moments of silence. "Perhaps you did fuck up the Werewolf Fang Pensieve."

"Even the female Weasleys are brainless" Draco spat back angrily. "The Werewolf Fang Pensieve doesn't just give you the memories of the werewolf, you re-live them, very vividly. If you spent more time paying attention in school and less trying to fuck Potter..."

"This isn't helping" Hermione said in a stern tone, and Ginny bit off whatever reply was on the tip of her tongue. The two were staring at each other with unshielded animosity, and Hermione was a bit surprised to see that despite Draco's angry snarl Ginny didn't look the least bit afraid. They stared at each other a moment, neither so much as blinking and then Draco looked back down at his book and the near fight was evaded.

Hermione closed the useless book in front of her and stood to find another, but suddenly stopped and turned towards Draco whom had his angular face propped up lazily by one slender arm as he read. "Malfoy, you said that you have Greyback's memories, and that you can vividly experience them?"

"Yes" he sighed, not bothering to look at her. "As I already told you, they're of no use. Greyback had no knowledge of where Riddle went all those years ago. And it's certainly not going to help with Potter's mental break down."

"Yes, but the two may be related. The Werewolf Fang Pensieve gave you Greyback's memories, and from the sounds of it, Harry experiences Riddle's memories in a similar fashion."

"He DID experience Riddle's memories, but now he's experiencing the bastard in person. But yes, there were similarities in what we were both going through, which is why I was able to help him control the memories in exchange for him busting me out of prison. And now we're here."

"Lovely re-play" Ginny said sarcastically. "Seems like you would've been a better announcer than you were a seeker."

"We need to learn more about the Werewolf Fang Pensieve. Perhaps the magical mechanism that bonds a werewolf's soul to his fangs is similar to whatever happened between Harry and Voldemort."

Draco tried his best not to look impressed, but it was clever. As he walked off to gather every book he had on the Werewolf Fang Pensieve he wondered how anyone could stand the fact that she was such a know-it-all.

******************************

The woman sitting across from Ron and Luna was plain to say the least. Her skin was smooth and pale and unremarkable, her nose was rather curved and her lips were thin. She wore her black hair in a shoulder length bob cut that somehow made her face look long and sallow and more homely. Ron rather thought she looked a like a female version of Snape, but she was a lot less greasy.

"It's clear you're not ready to talk, but we don't need you to talk, at least not yet" Ron said, propping his feet up on the table in a casual manner. He had no expertise in interrogation, but the past few years working as a businessman for WWW had made him fairly adept in negotiations. Right now they had her bound up and in the custody of the French aurors. They had the upper hand and he needed to let her know that.

"We don't need you to talk, but we do need you to listen. I'm going to tell you a story. Once upon a time there was an evil man named Damon. Like many evil, insane wizards, he had a vision on how he could change the world. You see, he was capable of using a form of very powerful wandless magic called Mental Channeling, and thus he thought he was very special.

For years Damon raised up loyal factions to assist in his plan for global domination. He taught them the secrets of Mental Channeling, and in return they developed sects of followers to overthrow the wizarding governments around the world. Damon made a mistake though; he trusted a very selfish boy named Tom Riddle. He shared his secrets with Tom, but Tom didn't want to share world power. He started his own army called the Death Eaters and they were so mean and nasty that Damon decided he'd rather wait until Tom died off than fight him.

Tom Riddle started calling himself Voldemort and he tortured and murdered many people. Damon did nothing about this, instead waiting patiently until one day, a spell backfired on Voldemort and killed him instead of destroying the baby boy he sought to murder. But Damon was a fairly smart bloke; he knew that Voldemort wasn't gone completely. So once more the coward Damon waited until the baby boy grew into a teenager and destroyed Voldemort once and for all.

Once Voldemort was gone, Damon felt ready to seize power, but he had some cleaning up to do first. You see, it was never his intention to start a war like Voldemort had; in fact, he was very against that sort of uncivilized slaughter. Damon had been patient because he wanted to be so powerful that when him and his worldwide cult of followers decided to make themselves known, their power would be so great that every leader of the wizarding world would simply surrender.

Now, I don't know if you play chess, but I love it. And one thing you have to always remember is that when you're ready to get the opponent's king into checkmate, you can't get cocky and let them see your strategy or they'll tear it apart. Damon knows this, and so before he let his cronies free onto the world, he needed to cover his tracks, needed to hide his strategy. So he had everyone killed off who might know about his Mental Channeling secret.

Damon killed off Draco Malfoy's mommy and daddy and a bunch of other gross Death Eaters, and nobody was very sad. But then, Damon made another mistake. He was so hell-bent on killing off all those who Tom might have talked to that he threatened a woman named Hermione Granger. You see, Hermione Granger was the only one who could reveal the locations of those Death Eaters who had been pardoned, and even though the Ministry of Magic said they were pardoned, Damon still felt they knew too much and were better off six feet under.

Like I said though, Damon made a mistake because he didn't do his research. Even though Hermione Granger is young, and even though she has a thousand reasons to want the Death Eaters dead, she is a one-of-a-kind witch. If Damon had done his research, he would have known that she is the brightest witch of her age and that she doesn't scare easily. He would know that she believes in justice, and she will not bow to the demands of a dictator.

Damon's mistake pissed off the wrong people, and efforts to find out who was behind killing the Death Eaters was doubled. That teenager who killed Voldemort, Harry Potter, well he was very concerned about the whole thing and even that little brat Draco Malfoy whose mommy and daddy had been killed was fixated on revenge. So they started digging, and they started finding Damon's secrets out.

One night, Damon sent his cult followers to attack a wonderful place called The Burrow. The Burrow was burned to the ground, but Hermione Granger still lived and so did the Weasley family and Harry Potter and even that little brat Draco Malfoy.

And now Damon's secrets aren't secrets anymore. They're stories being told by men like me."

Ron paused for effect, and there was a long silence in which nobody spoke. The intensity of the moment was only broken by Ron's stomach growling loudly, so he gave it a pat and sat up. "I'm hungry, how about you Luna? Let's get something to eat."

If Luna was perplexed by Ron's behavior she didn't show it. She simply took the hand he offered her, stood up and walked out of the holding cell by his side.

"She didn't expect you to know as much as you did" Luna announced once the door was closed firmly behind them. "She was shocked, and a bit scared."

"Really? How can you tell? To be honest, I made some of that stuff up to bridge the gaps in what Harry told me."

"I'm good at reading people" Luna shrugged. "People always thought I was loony, so they tried to hide their real reactions from me to be polite. Eventually, I got good at reading what they were really thinking by looking into their eyes. Your story was very close to the truth of what is happening and her eyes told me that."

"That's bloody brilliant" Ron grinned. "And Luna, I don't think you're loony. I'll admit I used to, but you've proved yourself to be quite the sharp Ravenclaw."

"Thank you Ronald" she responded dreamily. "You were rather brilliant in there yourself. But then, I've always thought you are much brighter than people give you credit for."

************************************

"I think I found something!" Ginny exclaimed with a level of exuberance that almost felt inappropriate for the dark, sullen surroundings of Malfoy Manor. Hermione quickly moved to the younger girl's side to read over her shoulder, but Draco stayed firmly cemented in his seat, leaning back in his chair and looking up from his own reading to show he was listening. "A part of the werewolf's soul is bonded with its fangs as this aspect of the creature's physiology is most precious to its nature. The fangs are an inseparable part of who the werewolf is; even more fundamental to his essence of being than his heart, brain or lungs. In magical theory, we call this incidence in which a wizard or witches soul binds with a specific part of their body or consciousness `Soul Binding'."

"Soul Binding?" Draco snorted, rocking forward in his chair so quickly that the legs slammed down and a loud echo rippled through the vast library. "Could they have thought of a more obvious name?"

"Perhaps part of Voldemort's soul was bound to Harry's" Hermione puzzled out, now pacing. "Harry was the horocrux Voldemort never meant to create, a part of his soul was literally within Harry from infancy."

"But Harry destroyed that in the Final Battle" Ginny argued. "And besides, even if some part of Voldemort's soul still lingered, it shouldn't be this strong now. It never was before."

"What if part of Voldemort's soul hid itself deep inside of Potter?" Draco suggested and Hermione and Ginny both jumped slightly, as though they'd forgotten he was even there. "The first time the Dark Lord was defeated by Potter a piece of him ended up inside of Potter. What if it happened again a second time, but this time it wasn't just a fluke, but rather an emergency back up plan? What if he knew about soul binding and he made it so that he'd bind with the part of Potter that is `fundamental to his essence'?"

Hermione's eyes lit up at the implications of what Draco was saying. "It's possible. Voldemort would not have thought it possible to be defeated again, but he knew that we were destroying the horocruxes. He was powerful, and intelligent- he might have devised another back-up plan."

"So, a piece of Voldemort is in Harry yet again" Ginny sighed. "It doesn't explain his madness and wandless magic and all that. None of that happened to him before."

"Because he didn't use this stupid `Soul Binding' thing last time" Draco responded as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He didn't mean to make Harry a semi-horocrux, he certainly didn't think that a baby was going to kill him that night. This time though, he was in a battle with a foe he knew was more formidable than he had ever been willing to admit. So he found a way to use soul binding to his advantage- he found a way to attach a part of himself more securely to whoever ended his life."

I used some very old, very complicated magic before I was... killed.

Draco recalled Riddle's words coming from Harry's mouth. Had that just been the night before? Maybe two nights? He had no sense of time in this dark library.

"Soul Binding outside of one's own body... it would take a lot of power, but it's a solid theory" Hermione agreed. "But what would Voldemort's soul bind to within Harry?"

"`The fangs are an inseparable part of who the werewolf is; even more fundamental to his essence of being than his heart, brain or lungs'" Ginny repeated from the book that was still laid out in front of her. "What is an inseparable part of Harry?"

"Well, I'd say his heart or lungs are inseparable from him. Even the Boy Wonder would die pretty quickly if we were to take those. The brain on the other hand... I'm pretty sure he lacked one to begin with."

Hermione and Ginny simply gave Draco a scathing look and he was left to smirk at his own joke. No sense of humor in these Gryffindors.

"What about his scar?" Ginny suggested.

Which one? Hermione almost asked, once more thinking about the time she had come home to a house covered in blood and seen the full extent of his growing scar collection on his bare chest. "True Harry has had the scar since he was a child, and it's what the public recognizes him by but it's only a symbol of pain to him- it represents the night his parents were killed and a conduit to Voldemort. If the werewolf's soul bonds to it's fangs, Voldemort's soul would need to bind to something equally important within Harry. It needs to be bound to something Harry loves, something he carries deep within him, something at the core of his being. Something he defines himself by."

"His pecker?" Ginny joked and Draco actually laughed out loud at this jab, which surprised both girls.

"Could the two of you take this seriously?" Hermione asked, scowling. "He's alone, depending on us to solve this and you're making jokes. Stop thinking physical- they said it could be something in his consciousness- perhaps something like bravery or loyalty."

"Lighten up Granger, we're all doing our best" Malfoy argued. "The way you two are so madly in love with each other I can't believe you haven't started popping out know-it-all babies with awful hair yet." Hermione ignored his words, but as they came out of his mouth something crept up on him like a slow trickling thought. When they were messed up on the Odyssea he had asked Harry if he loved Hermione.

Potter does not want to talk about that Tom Riddle's words reverberated in his mind. Harry had changed over to Riddle almost instantly when he was asked about Hermione.

He thought of Hermione's words and something seemed to click.

If the werewolf's soul bonds to it's fangs, Voldemort's soul would need to bind to something equally important within Harry. It needs to be bound to something Harry loves, something he carries deep within him, something at the core of his being. Something he defines himself by.

***********************************

Ron hadn't been bluffing about being hungry for lunch. Ron wasn't a very good liar to begin with, but his stomach was incapable of telling a lie. Thus they decided to let the prisoner stew in her thoughts while they got a proper French lunch.

Ron was still brushing crumbs off his shirt as they returned to the holding cell, and rubbed his stomach contentedly as they resumed their seats across the table from the very plain woman.

"Could you at least tell us your name?" Luna asked, trying the kind approach to start.

"Brigitte Mouzon" she said in thick French accent, her tone haughty. Still, they were surprised by her sudden break of silence so Luna kept trying the same tactic.

"Thank-you for telling us that. As Ronald expressed to you, we know that you are a part of Damon's followers and that there is a plan to attack soon. We need to know any details you can spare. We don't want people to get hurt, I hope you don't either."

"Nobody wanted anyone to get `urt" Brigitte huffed. "We are not a cult, we are not radicals. We follow Damon because `e is a visionary. `E sees evil men like your Lord Voldemort and `e knows there will always be chaos unless someone instills order. `E trains us in this `Mental Channeling' as you say, so that we can rise above the chaos, and create a clarity for the wizarding world."

"Damon nearly put this power into Tom Riddle's hands!" Ron exclaimed, unable to stop himself. "How do you see your mission as being so superior when he once lent support to a lunatic?"

"As you said, Damon `as made mistakes. But `is mistakes have also made `im wise. `E will be a benevolent ruler."

"Your cult burned down my family's home!" Ron shouted. "Good aurors were killed for Damon's `benevolence'!" Luna places a hand on Ron's arm and he felt calmer somewhat, swallowing down his rage.

"Sometimes, the Children of Damon `ave to do regrettable things for the masses. If you let us, we will take the sorrows and injustices of the magical communities and mend them for you. But if you stand against us, you will start a war. This is not something we want, as I said."

"So, either we wholeheartedly accept Damon's dictatorship, or you slaughter us all. Remind me Luna, what's the definition of benevolence? Because I'm not getting this."

"Damon `as been patient for `undreds of years!" Brigitte barked, suddenly shifting from her calm state to one of anger. A curse burst from her body but it hit the wards surrounding her and were absorbed. "We `ave all waited a very long time to mark the dawn of the new era, because we `ave been waiting until the wizarding world would accept us, until you would see reason. We `oped that when you saw the devastation caused by your Lord Voldemort you would see the sense of our cause, would welcome us."

"So you let the the Death Eaters slaughter and torture innocent people to prove a point?" Ron responded angrily. "Did it occur to you that maybe if you helped us we'd be a lot more welcoming?"

She laughed at this and the tips of Ron's ears turned bright red. "Look at `ow you treat your `eros! Men like Albus Dumbledore who were shunned by your minister as crazy. Boys like `Arry Potter who were laid out to be slaughtered by the media. No, we could not be your `eros, you would never respect us."

Ron saw both sense and madness in these words and it felt like his head would be ripped apart.

"So now that we have relative peace, you plan to tear it all apart?" Luna asked, her voice small.

"It is better to `ave rulers born of peace than rulers born of war, no? But, it seems you will never accept this, not even the two of you who have seen battles and blood and death. I should think you'd want change more than most."

"But there has been change" Luna insisted. "True change happens in a person's heart; a dictator can't enforce it upon them. When Voldemort rose to power the second time, yes there were those who followed him out of fear and those who did evil things. But there were also those who stood up and showed love and bravery and courage. And that changed our world. We're still not perfect but we're better now, more unified. Maybe that was just in Britain, but what the world learned is that when people bond together they grow together. We just need time."

"We `ave been giving the world time for centuries, and always there are new faces of evil and destruction, and always these lessons you learn are quickly forgotten. Damon's patience is finally running out."

*******************************

"Before I taught Potter to control his emotions, Tom Riddle was latching onto his anger as a way of coming out, as a way of controlling him right?" Draco started, standing up now so that Ginny was the only one still seated.

"Yes" Hermione agreed.

"When else did he lash out, when else did you see Riddle speak through him?"

"Only when he was angry, or upset. Or... well, once when he was having a nightmare he awoke and attacked me, but only for a moment."

"He also tried to attack you at The Burrow" Ginny recalled. "That's why we had to lock him up."

Draco grinned as his theory came together, but to the girls he only looked sinister and sadistic. "Riddle would take control of Potter when Potter was angry, or when Potter was around you Granger, but especially when Potter was upset about something to do with you."

Hermione crossed her arms, looking perplexed. It was a look Draco had never seen on the know-it-all and she looked oddly vulnerable. "You're suggesting that I somehow have something to do with all of this."

"I'm suggesting that in a last ditch effort to stick around, Voldemort used Soul Binding to latch a piece of himself onto whatever was the most essential part of Harry's consciousness; you."

Hermione felt flustered and uncomfortable by the way both Draco and Ginny were looking at her. Ginny's gaze suggested a resigned sense of "I knew it all along" and Draco's was a mixture of disgust and... envy? He looks envious she realized in the delirium of her emotions. Why would he be...

"It makes sense" Ginny said, her voice thick with some unreadable emotion. "You said yourself Hermione, Voldemort's soul would need to be bound to something Harry loves, something he carries deep within him, something at the core of his being. Something he defines himself by."

"He hardly defines himself by me" Hermione insisted, suddenly feeling rather faint. "He doesn't, he isn't..."

"In love with you?" Draco scoffed. "No, you're right, he isn't. Whatever it is more complex and intense than love, or at least the way we conventionally think of love. He's been hiding it from even himself I think, what better place for Voldemort to hide a piece of his soul than that place in which not even Potter is willing to venture? And every time Potter feels strongly about you, whether it be fear or anger or love, that piece of Riddle's soul was awakened a little more."

Hermione felt like Draco Malfoy was playing some sort of cruel prank on her, that any moment he would start laughing in that condescending way he always had back at Hogwarts and he would say "honestly Granger, you should have seen your face. As though Potter would be in love with a mudblood know-it-all bitch like you. Have you seen the other girls he's shagged? Clearly he's got a thing for smoking hot redheads, which you most certainly are not."

It was Ginny who interrupted Hermione's cruel thoughts. "Well, if any of what you're saying is correct Malfoy, we can hardly just rip that part of Harry out of his body. It's not like a werewolf fang, it's part of his consciousness. How do you propose we get rid of Riddle if we can't remove it?"

"Why exactly am I expected to have all the answers?" Draco huffed. "Besides, when it comes to the pathetic concept of love I am no expert."

"Clearly" Ginny responded, narrowing his eyes at him in such a way that Draco was suddenly startlingly aware of just how much the youngest Weasley seemed to hate him. She's not a hot-headed moron like her brother- she can control her temper but she's got a fiery rage burning under that smooth, pale skin.

"I need some air" was all Hermione said, suddenly fleeing the library and heading for the double doors that led out into the untamed garden of Malfoy Manor. It was incredibly silent out there; not so much as a bird chirping or a bug buzzing. It was clear that the vast gardens had once been carefully manicured, but now they had become wild due to Draco's neglect following the double homicide of his parents. Thick vines crisscrossed the stone path and the hedges had grown tall and wide, blocking out the sunlight as she walked further along. She pulled her cardigan closer around her as she felt a chill pass through her. She wondered if this was what it had looked like for Harry when he entered the final challenge of the Tri-Wizard competition.

Harry. Normally just the thought of his name made her feel warmer. She would think of his emerald green eyes, his untamable black hair, the solid feeling of his body as she hugged him, his unique scent--fresh cut grass and fresh spearmint, the calming sensation of his hand on her arm. Now all of those thoughts made her feel uncertain, unsure, unstable. Uncertainty was Hermione Granger's least favorite form of existence.

She had always been quick to deny all of those allegations about Harry's feelings for her- from Rita Skeeter, Viktor Krum, Ron, O'Rourke, Ginny, and countless others. The concept that Harry, her best friend, the person she knew better than she knew herself, could be hiding his feelings so well seemed ludicrous, no, it seemed impossible. They didn't keep secrets from each other, how could he manage to keep a secret like being in love with her?

Yet everyone had seen it except for her, and now she felt downright foolish. His fierce protectiveness, his undying trust, his open admiration; all of these seemed like obvious indicators of someone whose feelings surpassed those of a platonic friend. Harry had always been evasive of physical contact having grown up being raised by an Aunt and Uncle whose only form of physical contact was abusive. Yet he had grown to be comfortable hugging her, holding her hand, rubbing her back, and even kissing her cheek. No, he doesn't love me like a sister.

The realization washed over her like a tidal wave and she stumbled towards a stone-carved bench, relying on its sturdy structure to support her as her legs were no longer working. She knew the truth of it; some part of him was in love with her. For most girls, that realization would have brought a feeling of joy, or at least flattery. For her it just brought more uncertainty, because she wasn't sure how she felt about him in return.

When Ron had asked her if she was in love with Harry at The Burrow, she had responded with a resigned "I don't know" saying, "Maybe I don't really know what it's like to feel in love". That lack of knowledge was startling for someone who prided themselves on practical wisdom. How could she not know what being in love felt like? Shouldn't one just know?

She realized she was crying and she wiped the tears from her cheek hastily as she heard footsteps approaching.

******************************

"Damon's patience is running out?" Ron scoffed. "Well, what exactly is that supposed to mean to us?"

There was a long pause and Ron felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand as a strange feeling passed over him. Finally, Brigitte Mouzon responded with a single word.

"War."

In the next few moments everything seemed to happen at once. A massive explosion shook the room with such violence that Ron was thrown from his chair. His ears went deaf as smoke filled the holding cell, and he laid in a pile of rubble for a moment feeling dazed. Slowly he got up to his knees, seeing blood on his clothing but not knowing who it belonged to. Where Bridgitte had been sitting was covered in chunks of stone from the torn apart wall, and the hallway was now exposed but impossible to see into due to the smoke. He coughed hard but couldn't even hear himself as he tried to get to his feet and stumbled woozily back down, his eyes watering and his head pounding.

Luna he thought, realizing he could not see her anywhere. He felt like he'd been kicked in the gut and it sparked his adrenaline as he abandoned his attempts to stand and crawled through the dust and rubble to the other side of the room. Her light blonde hair wasn't difficult to spot once he got close enough, but it was clear she wasn't moving and his heart stopped as he threw himself to her side. With shaking hands he gently touched the side of her face, turning her head and seeing fresh blood coating her hair and trickling down her neck. He moved his fingers lower, seeking her pulse but she groaned and shifted slightly and he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

He looked back towards the gap in the wall and noticed that flames were now dancing in the opening. They would be consumed by fire within minutes if he didn't move fast. Ignoring the pain in his head and throughout his body Ron coughed hard one last time and then scooped Luna up in his arms, straining to stand as the hot air whirled around their bodies. Step-by-step he staggered across the debris, squinting against the acrid smoke that was pulled tears from his eyes. When he made it to the corridor he has to turn left as everything to the right of him was engulfed in flame. The heat was tremendous against his back and he struggled not to trip, as it was nearly impossible to see. Once he nearly fell over a large chunk of stone and once he nearly tripped over a lifeless body.

Flashbacks from the final battle of Hogwarts pulled at him but he did his best to ignore them. He tried not to think about his best friend lying limp in Hagrid's arms, his mother's wailing when she found her dead son, and most of all, his brother's lifeless eyes. And slowly, step-by-step, he made it clear of the auror headquarters and out onto the main street of Ville Cachee where he promptly fell to his knees as every shop, business and building around him burned.

`'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Hermione heard footsteps approaching through the dense jungle that had once been the Malfoy Manor garden. She wiped the tears from her face, feeling childish for being so emotional. She dreaded the thought that Draco Malfoy might find her with tearstains on her cheeks and laugh that cruel, haughty laugh of his.

Much to Hermione's relief, it was Ginny Weasley who found her. "I wanted to give you some space to think about things, but being left alone with Draco Malfoy is unbearable."

Hermione managed a short laugh at Ginny's comment and moved over on the stone bench to leave room for the red headed girl to join her. "Are you freaking out?" Ginny asked in a no-nonsense tone.

"Yes" Hermione admitted, gulping.

"Because you didn't know he was in love with you? If it helps, I don't think he knows either. Not entirely."

"I think I DID know" Hermione admitted with sigh. "I just didn't want to accept it, it seemed too impossible, too…"

"Scary?" Ginny guessed.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I don't know, the terrified look on your face?" Ginny laughed. "You looked far calmer at the Battle of Hogwarts than you do right now."

Hermione laughed genuinely this time, and it felt better than crying somehow- more cathartic. "I don't know how I could be afraid of anything to do with Harry. I mean he's Harry, he's my…"

"Don't say best friend" Ginny sighed. "I know he's your best friend, but don't you realize there's a lot more to it than just that?"

I was going to say my everything Hermione realized with a jolt of surprise. It sounded so melodramatic that she was suddenly glad that Ginny had made the wrong assumption.

"When you were staying at the Burrow, after Harry broke out of the Auror holding cell and everyone thought he had gone evil and insane, Ron told me that you feared you couldn't exist without Harry. I think that's a little more than just feelings of friendliness. I was in love with Harry once… in my own way… but I've never felt quite that way about anybody. I saw the look on your face when we got the letter from Malfoy saying that Harry was in trouble. It was only there for a moment, but I saw how scared you were for him. You're never scared like that for yourself- hell, while most of us were dealing with pimples and crushes you were out facing the evil and certain death. But when Harry was ever hurt…"

"I hurt too" Hermione admitted, closing her eyes.

"You're in love with him too" Ginny stated simply. "Why can't you accept that? Why is it so scary for you? To have what's obviously between the two of you… most people would die for that, and few people ever experience it." There was a tinge of jealousy in Ginny's voice, and she tried to conceal it but it bled through nonetheless.

"Unfortunately, me and Harry aren't most people. Everything involving us has always been complicated. We're usually too busy saving other people or saving each other to think about just stopping and being happy. I don't know if it's possible for us. But none of this matters right now. If Tom Riddle's soul is attached to the part of Harry's consciousness that's in love with me, how can we remove it?"

"Well that part is fairly simple" said a drawling voice that made both girls jump. Draco Malfoy turned the corner from behind one of the unruly bushes and stood before them, both arms crossed over his black button-up shirt. "We need to remove the part of Potter that's in love with you. We need to make him forget you."

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