Chapter One


Hermione woke up one morning, and decided she was going to die. There was a throbbing, pounding pain spreading through her temples, undoubtedly being her body's reaction to her recent late night study sessions. She had a sleep deficit of god-knows how many hours, and she was finally beginning to feel it. Rolling over with a groan, she buried her face in her pillow and pulled her covers up over her head, loathe to leave the comfort of her bed for the chilly, bustling hallways of Hogwarts school. It was entirely too cold for October, she decided. What was today's date? She couldn't remember. Easing her legs over the side of the bed, she sat up, and then promptly wished she hadn't. Gods, how her head HURT.

She glanced at the calendar hanging slightly askew above her bed. Large red letters were blinking "Sunday, October 4," across the top of it. Good, at least she didn't have to go to class in this condition. She wasn't sure she'd make it all the way to Madam Pomfrey, and was very tempted just to crawl back into bed, until she noticed she was the only person left in the dorm room. Cursing herself silently, Hermione trudged over to her dresser, and pulled out a green sweater, and a long grey skirt, the muggle clothes she saved for weekends, the only time she was allowed to wear them during the school year. Grabbing a brush, she made a token effort to tame her wild hair, but gave up after a few minutes, and headed to the bathroom to clean up.

In a few minutes she was out of the dorm, heading unsteadily down the stairs, gripping the railing in her attempts to stay upright. She was surprised to see Ron and Harry waiting for her when she arrived in the common room, which was otherwise empty. Everyone had apparently already left for breakfast. Ron was perched on the back of the sofa, swinging his long legs back and forth. Harry, sitting on the sofa itself behind Ron, stood up when Hermione came in, looking concerned.

"'Morning, Hermione," he said, sounding concerned. Did she really look that bad, she wondered?

"'Morning, Harry," she replied, flashing a quick smile. "Sleep well?"

"Fine, thank you." He raised his eyebrows, and was about to say something when Ron cut in.

"I slept awful. Harry snores," he said, hopping down from the couch and glaring at his friend.

Harry looked surprised. "I don't snore," he insisted.

Ron looked skeptical. "Well, you did last night. Either that, or you do a pretty good impression of it. Kept me up for hours." Turning to Hermione, he cocked his head. "'Ey, 'Mione, you look pretty awful. You all right?"

Hermione was tempted to say that no, she was not all right at all, thank you very much, and would like it very much if she could go back to bed, but she refrained. "I'm just fine," she replied mildly. "A bit hungry. Have I missed breakfast?"

"Nearly," Ron replied, grimacing. "We've been waiting for you."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "It was weird. You never sleep late. Are you sure you're all right?"

Oh, thought Hermione, so that's what it was all about. A bit testily, she said, "What, I'm not allowed to sleep in now and then? I'm not superwoman." Then she felt guilty. "I haven't been getting much sleep lately, at all," she added with a sigh.

"Bad dreams?" Harry asked, looking as if he could relate.

"Nah," Ron said knowingly, nodding, "Late night studying, if I know our Hermione." When Hermione didn't answer, Ron looked smug. "Knew it," he said. Then, to Hermione, "It's gonna kill you, you know, all this work. Lighten up a bit!"

"I can't," she said, her voice squeaking a little as she spoke. "This is our last year! Can you imagine failing seventh year? How embaressing that would be?"

"Yeah," Ron said, "Lee Jordan re-took seventh year. He said it wasn't that bad. I'm kinda surprised Fred didn't have to, actually, with the way he and Angelina were fooling around so much. Wouldn't think he'd have any time to study."

"Ech, Ron, that's disgusting," Hermione replied, wrinkling her nose. "Almost put me off my food. Not quite, though. Let's go, I'm starving."

"Best idea you've had yet," Ron agreed amiably, wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulder and pulling him towards the door. "Let's go. I could eat a house elf, I'm so hungry."

"RON!"

"Only joking, Hermione."

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

After breakfast, Hermione, Harry, and Ron met Ginny and Dean on the quidditch pitch for some broomstick practice. Having finally made it on to the quidditch team this year, Ron was all to eager to show off his skill with a quaffle. Hermione sat on the benches and watched them as they looped and dove in the air, with Harry, as usual, far ahead of the others. They were just playing keep-away with the quaffle, as they couldn't really release either bludger or snitch without risk. So far, nothing had gotten by Ginny, who had been on the team for three years now, and was shaping up to be quite a fine player.

Sometimes, idly, Hermione wished that she herself had bothered to obtain some broomstick expertise. She'd always been too busy with school work and studies to worry about the sport, but seeing them up there having so much fun made her wonder if she hadn't made a bad decision about all that. Sure, she could ride a broomstick all right, but if she tried to do anything but fly straight, she'd fall off. Harry had even tried to show her how to flip, once, but it had resulted in an entirely too prolonged stay with Madam Pomfrey, an experience she'd prefer not to repeat. Things standing as they were, she'd have to content herself with watching, and cheering on her friends. It wasn't so bad.

Turning away for a minute, Hermione looked over at the Hogwarts building, where she'd lived (on and off) for six years. It would be very, very strange when it was all over. And, she realized abruptly, it would be over all too soon. This was her last year, her last hurrah with all those friends and aquaintances she'd made over all the time she'd spent here. But then, she told herself, practically, she'd see them all again. After all, most of them would be staying in England, and she'd end up working with some of them. It was a small world, the world of wizardry. So it wouldn't be goodbye.

But saying goodbye to Hogwarts itself would be hard. She'd gotten so used to the routines, waking up in the morning, going to classes, meeting in the great hall for meals. She knew all the professors, now, and liked most of them well enough. There were of course, various exceptions to that, and there were definitely some professors she'd be happy to leave. Trelawney, for example, would not be much missed. And she couldn't think of anyone, save Draco Malfoy, who would miss Professor Snape. But altogether, Hermione wasn't too anxious for this year to end. Life would never be quite the same, no matter what bright new possibilities the future held for her.

Lost in her own thoughts, Hermione had been staring, eyes unfocused, at a solitary broomstick that lay on the ground a few feet away. As she refocused, she noticed, to her mild shock, that the broom was floating several inches above the ground, when it had, moments before, been resting quite steadily on the earth. She blinked at it, then looked around, trying to determine who or what was levitating it. As she did so, she heard a small thump, and looked back, to see the broom sitting innocently on the ground again. Even as she puzzled over it, Hermione's headache returned abruptly, and she doubled over, clutching her head. She wanted to call out to Harry and the others, but she couldn't bring herself to exert the effort. As she blacked out, she couldn't help thinking that her studies couldn't be worth quite this much.

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

"It was the weirdest thing. One minute she was fine-and I know, because I saw her sitting there, looking just like normal-and then she was on the ground, holding her head."

"Did you see what happened?"

"Nothing happened, like Ron said! It was just like magic...oh."

The voices around her roused Hermione, and she opened her eyes to find herself lying on her back on a cot, staring up at a white ceiling. Rolling on to her side, she looked around, and saw that she was indeed in the hospital wing. Next to her, Ron, Harry and Madam Pomfrey were engaged in heated conversation. Hermione propped herself up on one elbow and shook her head. She could do that, now, without pain. That was a good sign.

"I'm feeling better, now, thanks. How long have I been here?"All three of them jumped, and Hermione looked sheepish. "Sorry...didn't mean to scare you."

"That's all right," Harry said quickly, crossing behind the nurse, and resting a hand on Hermione's cot. "Feeling better?"

"You scared us pretty bad," Ron added, when Hermione nodded. "We didn't know what to think. One minute you were up, and then you were down."

"I heard." Slowly, Hermione sat straight up. When her friends protested, she smiled. "Thanks. I'm all right, now, though. Thanks, Madam Pomfrey. Can I go, now?"

Madam Pomfrey looked skeptical. "Are you sure, dear? You were out cold when they brought you in here. You don't want to rest a bit?"

Shaking her head, Hermione extracted herself from the blankets, and stood up. "I'm fine. I should've expected this. I haven't been sleeping enough, lately. It was going to get me eventually." Giving another reassuring smile, she grabbed Harry and Ron's arms, and steered them towards the door. "Thanks!" She called back over her shoulder as they vacated the room. Her last glimpse of Madam Pomfrey left the woman looking puzzled and worried, but she didn't try to stop them from leaving.

As she and her friends walked down the hall towards the dorm, Hermione turned to Harry. "How'd I get to the infirmary?"

Harry shrugged. "Dean carried you. Ron tried, but he kept complaining."

Ron looked affronted. "Oi, what? I did no such thing. I was just worried about her, that's all, and I thought Dean might get her there faster."

Harry's face stayed solemn, but his eyes danced. "Oh, so...when you said she was a bit heavy for you, you were just looking out for her own good, were you?"

Hermione glared at Ron. "A bit HEAVY, am I?"

Ron gulped. "Hey, I never...that is, I wouldn't...oh come on, Hermione!"

As Hermione stared Ron down, Harry started to laugh. "Oh, stop it, Hermione, I made it up. I was only joking, leave off. Come on, now. Hermione, you feeling up to apparating? I thought we'd go over to Hogsmeade. Or we could just go the slow way."

"No, I can," Hermione said, nodding. "It'd be nice to get out for a while."

"Yeah, and my stash has run out. Gotta stock up," Ron added, grinning. "Maybe that's what's wrong with you, Hermione. You need some sweet stuff. It'll do you good, seeing as you're so sour all the time...waaah!"

At Ron's last words, Hermione had tackled him. "Sour, am I? We'll see about that..."

* * * * * * * * * * * Severus Snape watched the Gryffindor trio's antics with mild disgust, as he crossed the hall towards the infirmary. He wouldn't be sorry to see them go this summer, especially not Potter. He'd put up with that boy long enough. What was worse, everyone else seemed to think that he was god's gift to the world. It made him sick, it really did. He considered stopping them, and telling them not to goof off in the halls, but by that time they were already too far behind him, and in all honesty, he didn't care enough about any of them to go all the way back just to reprimand them. If another teacher caught them, and they got in trouble, just as well. Someone would, undoubtedly. They made as much noise as a herd of frightened dragons. Sometimes Snape wondered what he was doing at a school. Children were very irritating creatures.

The vials in his hand clinked together as he increased his pace, swinging open the infirmary doors with a bang, and startling Madam Pomfrey, causing her to drop the newt she'd been holding. Taking advantage of it's newfound freedom, the newt escaped under the bed.

"I apologize," Snape murmured curtly. "I have the solutions you asked for, Poppy."

"Yes, yes, thank you," Poppy said, nodding, and fluttering over to take the vials from him. She placed them on a high shelf in the wall, and then turned around. "Oh, yes, I can't thank you enough. It's been such a day, today, at least something's going right. I know I can always count on you, Severus."

"Mmmm, yes, anytime." Snape was edging back towards the door. "I trust there's nothing else, so, if I may...?"

"Hmmm?" Poppy stopped bustling around, and turned to look at him. "Oh, yes, yes, go ahead, don't let me keep you." Then, even as Snape turned to leave. "By any chance, did you see Miss Granger in the hall on the way here?"

With a sigh, Snape turned around again. "Yes, actually. She and Potter and Weasley, inseperable as every."

Chuckling, Poppy nodded. "Yes, yes, you'd think they were joined at the hip, the way they're so close. It's lovely really, seeing such friendships flourishing." Then, abruptly, her tone became more businesslike. "But Severus, when you saw Hermione, did she look...odd, at all? Did she look all right, I mean?"

"Oh yes," Snape said, sarcastically. "She was jumping around, running in the halls, breaking all the rules that she should know QUITE well, by now, being a seventh year, and a prefect. Quite embarressing, really." He was surprised when Poppy smiled.

"Oh, GOOD," she said, sounding relieved. "You'd never believe, it was the oddest thing, Severus. Said she'd been having headaches all morning. Blacked out today, on the quidditch pitch. Mr. Weasley said she'd been just fine the moment before, and then 'suddenly, she was on the ground.' And I didn't detect any magic...there was no spell, no one playing a trick on her...she just fainted. Rather strange if you ask me. And then, when she woke up, she was just fine. Must remember to keep an eye on that girl, if I can..."

Severus stared, while Poppy kept mumbling distractedly to herself. It sounded a great deal like the symptoms of...but, no. That seemed extremely unlikely, especially for Granger. Yet...she was a rather bright girl, he had to admit. Almost frustratingly bright. Come to think of it, she was the type he'd usually watch, in case she did show the signs...but, a Gryffindor? That was unfortunate. But then, he wasn't sure of anything yet. Jumping to false conclusions wasn't something he was fond of, so Snape broke his train of thought, nodded curtly to Poppy, and swept out of the room.

Still, Poppy had been right. They would have to watch that Granger girl.

Striding quickly, Snape started down the staircase towards the dungeons, thinking to himself. Granger wasn't the only person who was having unusual aches. Unconciously, Snape rubbed at his arm. No, it wouldn't be long now before all hell broke loose. He knew the signs. They'd been plain enough, for the past three years. The Dark Lord had been biding his time long enough. Dumbledore knew it. Anyone with sense knew it, although, in all honesty, there weren't that many around here that would be willing to admit it to themselves. He wondered briefly, if they all expected the Potter boy to save them. Probably. Snape wasn't sure what to think of that, except that it was highly unlikely. The boy had gotten out of several close scrapes, granted, but not without help. He was everyone's hero, now, but he had no idea, no possible inkling of the true power that they would ask him to face. No, the boy was useless, just that, a boy, a child. He was that James Potter's son. Snape scowled in disgust.

James Potter had always been the hero. That was just the way he was. He was the class clown, him and his foolish friends, and everyone had loved him. Everyone had expected him to win when he played, had laughed when he told his jokes, had loved him, just because. Snape hated that. Potter had once had power, because of the trust people invested in him. Then he died, in his house, stupidly trying to defend his wife. He'd always been stupid. Hadn't he realized she was going to die, anyway? Hadn't he realized he couldn't save her? That had irked Snape the most about the whole thing. James Potter had always wanted to be the hero. And those kinds always lost in the end. He'd needed to prove himself too badly. And Harry was exactly the same way. He'd need all the help he could get.

Snapping his thoughts back to the present task, Snape realized he'd reached the potions dungeon. He decided to stop thinking about the war, for a minute. It wasn't the time, now, to be distracted by such things. The students had to be prepared, and that was why he tought here, after all. That was why he slaved away through thick-headed, idiot children all day. He looked for the intelligent ones, the ones who could make a difference, the ones who were smart enough not to be the heros, but to be the victors, the ones who could make a difference. That was his purpose here. And that, after all, was all he dared do.

His arm hurt. He ignored it. Leave me alone, he willed it. Just leave me alone. I don't need you anymore.

* * * * * * * * * *

Seated at a corner table in the Three Broomsticks, Hermione was enjoying herself immensely. It was the first time she and her friends had gotten a chance to get out to Hogsmeade since the beginning of the school year, and she'd missed these carefree trips. Over the summer, she'd missed Harry and Ron a great deal, as she hadn't gotten to see either of them since the year before. Ron had been visiting his aunt Bernice all summer, and Harry...well, it wasn't his fault he lived with the Dursleys.

They'd all stuffed their pockets with every kind of candy, and then went over to Zonko's, where, not surprisingly, they'd run into Seamus and Dean, arm in arm with Parvati and Ginny. Now all seven of them were laughing together over pints of butterbeer. Life was good. In fact, Hermione couldn't remember life being better. Here she was, surrounded by the people she loved, talking about old times and thinking about the future. Actually, the future part scared her a bit. Everyone seemed to know what they wanted to do with their lives, except for her. At first, she'd thought about making an attempt at being a professor, but she didn't like the idea of being secluded up in Hogwarts school, when everyone else was leaving. Then she'd thought about a Ministry job, but Ron had quickly persuaded her against that.

"Ministry's going to hell, with Fudge in charge," he assured her. "Dad's got it bad, trying to keep the muggle stuff under control. Especially with all the new...goings on." Ron had stopped there, and Hermione didn't blame him. No one really wanted to talk about what they all knew was coming, the dark rebellion that had been building up for years. Even now, she turned her mind away from it. She oughtent to ruin a good day with that kind of thinking.

"Hey, Hermione." Harry leaned over to speak to her, snapping her out of her reverie. "Feeling all right?"

Nodding, Hermione smiled. "Just fine, Harry, thanks. The headache's all gone."

Harry grinned back. "Good. Gods, Hermione, you really freaked us out today."

Hermione shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry...it certainly wasn't intentional."

"No, no, certainly not," Harry agreed with a short laugh. "Just...if you get...headaches, again, let us know, all right?"

Hermione's smile faded, and she raised her eyebrows. "Harry, why are you so worried about it? It wasn't anything horribly unusual...just lack of sleep, that's all."

Now it was Harry's turn to shrug. "Dunno, it's just...something feels weird about it." Then he shook his head, smiling again. "I'm just paranoid. Ignore me. But tell me if you feel badly."

"Well, that makes a lot of sense." Hermione touched his shoulder. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine. You're letting it ruin your day."

Harry looked like he was going to answer, but Dean poked him, forestalling him. "'Ey," he said, looking worried. "Isn't that Malfoy?" He jerked his head at a blond-haired boy, standing near the counter with his back to them. Sure enough, as they watched, Malfoy turned, looked at them, and sneered. Then, surprisingly enough, he left the counter, and started over to where they were sitting. Hermione groaned. A visit from Draco Malfoy was never an enjoyable experience.

"Hey, Granger," he said, sidling over to her and grinning in that irritating, smug little way that he did. "I hear you had a little fainting spell today. Can't keep all those books in your head at once? Hmmm, such a shame. You must be losing your touch."

Hermione ignored him, but Ron was not so careful. "Shut up, Malfoy," he grated. "What do you want, anyway? If you're just going to irritate Hermione, why don't you bugger off?"

Draco shook his head, and looked back over at Hermione. "What, Granger, can't stand up for yourself? Or are you just afraid I'm right?"

"No worries about that," Harry said, quietly. "It's a pretty rare occurance."

"It'd be pretty bad if I am right, wouldn't it? Not like you're going to get ahead in life without your brains. Too ugly to be worth anything for looks. And not very good with people. That reminds me, we're looking for a new maid, if you need a steady job after school ends."

Hermione looked straight at Malfoy, trying to determine what it was he wanted. The look in his eyes was plain. He was looking for a fight. Why, she didn't know, but he wanted her to react. Well, she wouldn't. But it looked like Ron was going to, if she didn't step in.

Unfortunately she didn't have a chance. "Oh, I forgot," Malfoy said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "You can't work at our place. We'd be better off with a house elf. You're a mudblood, after all."

Ron had clearly had enough. Roaring, he got to his feet and dove off the bench, throwing a punch right at Malfoy's smirking face. Malfoy dodged, and landed his foot right in Ron's gut, knocking the wind out of the boy and sending him hurtling to the ground.

Hermione gasped, and then, furious, rose to her feet. And all of a sudden, all of the glasses on the tables shattered.

People screamed, as shards of glass flew everywhere, from all angles. Hermione felt herself pulled down by a strong hand, and then heard Malfoy's startled shriek of pain. Looking up, she saw him cradling his hand, which was bleeding profusely in two places. Below him, Harry was helping a still winded Ron to his feet. He was bleeding too, from his arm, and, turning around, Hermione could see that Parvati was crying.

"Harry, what-?" Hermione began to ask, but Seamus' hand on her shoulder forestalled her.

"Let's go," he said. "Talk later."

Then she was ushered out of the Three Broomsticks, along with the chattering, crying, whispering crowd that milled out all around her. She was so confused. What had happened? All she knew was one moment, Ron and Draco were fighting, and then all of a sudden, everything had exploded. Had Draco had something in his pocket? Had he cast a spell? Was he trying to make it look like they caused the explosion? She didn't know, but when she turned around to grab Draco and make him answer, he was already gone.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Draco Malfoy returned to Slytherin House, later that day, Snape was sitting in the common room, staring into the fire.

"Professor!" Draco called, excitedly. Snape did not respond, at first, lost in thought. "Um...Professor?" Draco tried again.

Snape turned around, shaking his head, as if to clear it. "What?" He asked, sharply. "What do you want?"

"Professor Snape, sir," Malfoy said, breathlessly, "Potter and his friends were at the Three Broomsticks, and they tried to kill me!"

Snape rolled his eyes. Not this again. Although it was quite likely that Potter had done something extremely stupid, Snape was sure that the intent had not been to kill Draco Malfoy. Although, it wouldn't have been so horrible if he'd succeeded, whether intentionally or not. At this point, even Snape would look the other way. "Apparently," Snape said dryly, standing up and facing the boy, "He failed. You seem quite living to me. What exactly is the problem, Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy was all to eager to tell him. "Weasley attacked me, sir, and then all of a sudden, just like that, all the glassware exploded. All of it! I think it was the Granger girl, sir. I think she got mad, and cast a spell, so that they could get away, and no one would know they were fighting." He looked disgustingly smug. "You know how that girl hates to get caught doing anything wrong, and they were fighting, and all, so she cast a spell-!"

"Did you see her cast the spell, Draco?" Snape asked, boredly. "If you have no proof, then do not waste my time." There was a time, thought Snape idly to himself, when I would have acted on even a peep from this little annoyance. But not anymore. Over the past three years, Draco's little problems with the Potter boy had irritated him to no end. Now, he mostly ignored them. Now, there were more important things.

"No, sir," Draco said, only mildly put off by his Professor's lack of interest. "But she looked so angry, and then it happened just like that...it couldn't have been anything else! And look!" He waved his hand in front of Snape's face, revealing the bandages that Madam Pomfrey had given him. "It was awful, sir. The whole hand was bleeding..."

"And that would explain why only two fingers are bandaged, would it?" Snape dismissed that with a wave of his hand. Something else in Malfoy's story had intrigued him. "Tell me EXACTLY what happened, Malfoy. No exaggeration."

Malfoy nodded, the picture of innocence. Snape knew better. Much better. "So," Malfoy began. "We were in the Three Broomsticks, and they were all sitting at a table-"

"Who?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Potter, Granger, Weasley...some others, I don't remember. Weasley's little sister, I think. Anyway, I went over to say hello, and Weasley just launched himself at me! Right off the bench! So I got him in the stomach, because I had to defend myself, of course." He looked at his Professor for support.

Snape waved his fingers boredly. "Yes, yes, of course. Go on."

Malfoy nodded, encouraged. "Right, so, I knocked Weasley down, and then Granger stood up, looking like she was gonna throw a fit, and then all of a sudden everything...shattered!" He clapped his hands together for emphasis. "Just like that! And they got my hand-!"

"Yes," Snape said curtly, cutting him off. "Well, this will have to be dealt with, of course, Mr. Malfoy." Snape's mind was racing. "Run along, now...yes, this will have to be dealt with. Thank you."

He left the room before Malfoy could say anything, rapidly storming down the hall. From what Malfoy had just said, it sounded like his suspicions about Miss Granger had been correct. He almost wished he hadn't been, he didn't relish the idea of telling the other Professors about this new development.

So he wouldn't. Instead, he decided suddenly, stopping in his tracks, he would pay a visit to Miss Granger herself. Before the others could get to her. Because, just maybe, if she was as smart as she seemed, she could be useful. Incredibly useful, despite her muggle blood. Just maybe. It was worth a try.

********
Liked it? Why not drop me a Review?

Next Chapter