Spoilers: All four books

Summary: After the death of Lucius, Draco Malfoy takes over his place in the
Death Eater’s inner circle. Draco’s first task is to get Hermione Granger as a pawn
by seducing her and getting her pregnant with his child. The need for siring a child is
to ensure Hermione’s permanent bond to the Dark Side.  It is not an easy task to begin
with, but emotions, pride, and Ron make things even more complicated. Worse,
Voldemort has other horrible plans for Hermione and the child which nobody knows,
not even Draco. If the plans push through, it will be the ultimate downfall of Harry
Potter and the Light Side.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK
Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic
Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no
copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: Please review so I’ll know if my story was able to entertain you even if for just a
little while. Flames are welcome so I can improve my story.

Content warning: This story is rated R for a reason. This chapter is just rated PG, but
some of the later chapters have sexual content, but still well within the bounds of an R
rating. Be reminded that the characters are older here, so they deal with mature stuff. If
you do not like to see the characters that way, then do not read this. You’ve been warned.
 

I'm not the only one
Staring at the sun
Afraid of what you'd find
If you took a look inside

- U2, Staring at the Sun

Dark Child

by bohemian vixen
 
 

Chapter 8
 

Ginny threw the door wide open to the bedroom. She ran up to Hermione who was
sitting on the bed. She bent down and with a swift gesture, she lightly pulled away Hermione’s
palm which covered the tell-tale mark. Ginny then peered closely at Hermione’s neck. All the
while Hermione sat stiffly, still frozen in surprise and alarm. The tightly closed bottle of liquid
concealer was now lying neglected on the bed after Hermione tossed it aside in shock.

“Hi Ginny. What are you doing here?” Hermione managed to ask weakly.

“Harry and Ron asked me to fetch you for dinner. We thought you were in the library. But
you weren’t there so I figured that you’ll be here,” she explained hastily, her eyes still focused
on Hermione’s neck. “Ooooh, that’s one big hickey. Must’ve been one hot kiss,” Ginny
murmured, her gaze now taking in the size and redness of the kiss mark.

“That isn’t a hickey. It’s an insect bite of some sort,” Hermione reasoned. But Hermione
knew that although she was a tolerably good liar, she was not an expert one. Ginny was a
smart girl, and a close friend who happened to know her well; Hermione knew that she
could not fool Ginny.

As if to affirm Hermione’s thoughts, Ginny snorted and said, “I know a hickey when I see
one, Hermione. I’ve been getting a few of those lately.”

“From Harry?” Hermione asked absently.

Ginny then stood up in front of Hermione. Ginny’s expression became serious.

“No, from Draco Malfoy,” Ginny said gravely.

Hermione’s mouth literally gaped open, forming a perfectly round O. Did she hear Ginny
right? Malfoy? ‘Oh no, I’m losing my marbles…or maybe I’m now living in some
alternate universe,’ Hermione thought frantically. The more sensible side of Hermione
made her think that maybe Ginny found out about her tryst with Malfoy earlier in the library,
and Ginny was just getting her to admit it. Ginny had a way of making people open up to
her, and it seemed that she would take all her skills in making Hermione spill the beans. But
what if Malfoy really was on the prowl, seducing girls along the way? What if she and
Ginny were among Malfoy’s possibly many victims?

“Ginny…!” Hermione whispered in disbelief.

Ginny sat on the four-poster bed. “God, Hermione, I was just kidding, okay! Don’t tell me
you actually bought it!” she exclaimed. Then she took a good look at Hermione’s eyes. “Oh,
you did. You really did. I actually got you there?” Ginny whispered in awe.

Hermione nodded weakly. Inside, she felt relief wash over her like a flood.

“As if I’d like to get hickeys from anybody but Harry! And Malfoy? Oh please. I have
better taste than that, Herm. He’s devilishly handsome all right, but that’s what he is—a
Slytherin devil!” Ginny exclaimed again, and she slapped her hand on the bed to emphasize
the point.  Then she focused her attention on Hermione again. “If you don’t want to tell me
who gave you that kiss mark, I won’t push it, okay? But please, at least, don’t deny what
that is to me. You’re my friend. Besides, I don’t believe you anyway,” Ginny said seriously.
Then she giggled. “No one will believe you! Insect bite? Oh please, Herm, you can lie
better than that!” she said laughingly.

Hermione smiled in spite of herself as she looked at her laughing friend. She also pondered
over what Ginny said. It was true that Ginny knew when to stop asking questions. That at
least was an assurance that Ginny would not bug her to name any names.

“Okay, so it’s a hickey. Everyone gets one sometimes,” Hermione said simply, trying to
keep her tone as light as possible despite being very nervous inside.

Ginny’s mouth hung open. “Oooooh! Who’s the guy?” Ginny asked excitedly. Then a
naughty expression settled in her brown eyes. “Or girl?” she added wickedly.

“Ginny! I’m straight, okay,” Hermione said. Hermione, being the open-minded person
that she was, had nothing against homosexuals. She just did not like it when people think
she was something when she really was not.

“Okay, so who’s the guy?” Ginny asked again.

“I’m sorry Gin. I can’t tell who the guy is. I can’t tell you how it happened. Everything’s
hazy yet. I’m not telling anyone. You’d be the first to know if I decided to tell it to someone,”
Hermione said seriously. “The only thing I can tell you is what you already know.  A guy
kissed me, that’s all. It happens all the time to every girl. I just don’t feel like talking about
it, please,” she said.

“Okay I’ll stop bugging you. But I’d just like to know, are you serious with this guy?”
Ginny asked.

Was Hermione serious with Draco Malfoy? No. She did not even like him. Yes, he was
physically attractive, but that was all. However what they almost did was a serious matter
in itself, and the fact that it was Malfoy who she was involved with made the whole thing
even more gravely serious.  Hermione couldn’t answer. She reached for the bottle of liquid
concealer lying beside her and idly toyed with it instead. She tried to keep her face as
expressionless as possible, to avoid giving away any emotions.

Ginny took in Hermione’s silence. She looked disappointed, but she kept her word. She
stopped bugging Hermione about it.

They sat side by side in silence. It was the comfortable silence that could only exist between
two close friends. Hermione felt that Ginny understood…but would she still understand if she
found out that the guy was Draco Malfoy?

Ginny turned to look at Hermione again. To Hermione’s surprise, Ginny looked sad and
grave. “I joined Harry and Ron after Mia showed me all her magazines. You just left for the
library that time, or so that’s what Ron said. I was with Harry and Ron the whole time that
you were gone,” she said, breaking the silence.

Hermione was confused. What was Ginny getting at? She looked at Ginny questioningly.

“It means that it’s not Ron. It isn’t Ron,” Ginny said sadly. She looked searchingly into
Hermione’s eyes, as if silently asking her to say that she was mistaken.

Hermione now understood what Ginny meant. “No, Ginny. It isn’t Ron,” she answered
softly.

Ginny smiled a little, but her eyes were still sad. “Well, you know how I always wish you
two would get together. But it’s Ron’s fault. He’s too slow and too dense,” she murmured
reflectively. Then she smiled sheepishly. “Now you think I’m some kind of an idiot. It’s
just that…oh, one of my secret wishes is for you to be my sister someday…you know, in
law…there, I said it,” Ginny said. “But of course, you can’t wait for Ron forever. At least
you’re happy with this guy, right?” Ginny continued.

Hermione sighed inwardly. Now she really felt guilty. Ginny thought that she was serious
with the guy. And was she happy as Ginny thought she was? If anything, she was sadder
than ever. It was because Hermione also secretly wished what Ginny just confided in her.

“Please don’t tell anyone, Gin,” Hermione said, avoiding Ginny’s question. It would be
chaotic if people found out anything about what was going on between her and Malfoy.
But Hermione had no worries about Ginny. They both keep each other’s secrets. Ginny
never told anyone about Hermione’s date with Viktor to the Yule Ball when they were
in fourth year. She never told anyone how Hermione felt about Ron. In turn, Hermione
never breathed a word to anyone how Ginny liked Harry before the two of them got
together.

“Of course I won’t Herm. You’re secret’s safe with me,” Ginny promised with a smile.
“I know I’m not supposed to know anything about the guy yet…but, Hermione, I do
hope he’s not a Slytherin!” Ginny said with laughter in her voice.

Hermione felt her stomach lurch, but she managed to smile weakly. This was harder
than she imagined.

Ginny reached for the bottle of liquid concealer in Hermione’s hand and took it. “Hey,
we better cover up that thing on your neck!”

As Ginny struggled to open the bottle, Hermione thought of the mess she got herself into.
If she got any deeper into the situation, she would have to hide more than a hickey. But
Hermione knew that she was already in too deep.
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As Hermione walked down the corridor back to the Gryffindor tower, she pondered
over what happened the few previous days. It had been three days since that incident
with Malfoy at the library. She preferred to call it incident. She thought that the term
‘incident’ made whatever happened a bit impersonal. She avoided thinking about the
incident. It was all too confusing, almost surreal.

The three days went by peacefully…too peacefully, in fact, for Hermione’s liking. It
seemed like it was the calm before the storm. No one noticed her hickey after Ginny had
expertly covered it up three days ago. Now it was fading already, so she would not have
to worry about it. Madam Pince seemed to have forgotten—or chose to forget—anything
that she might have been thinking when she caught her and Malfoy in the library. Hermione
knew that Madam Pince doubted her explanation. However, when Hermione first came
back again to the library after the incident, the librarian was being her usual self, much to
Hermione’s relief. She could not handle it if the librarian asked more questions.

Last Tuesday, she turned in to Professor Snape her essay on the Ubernocturniserum. That
was what she was really nervous about, but Hermione believed that there was nothing in the
essay Snape could point out as a fabrication. Sure, the essay was a complete lie, but
Hermione knew that she wrote it well—detailed and consistent. Snape would not know
have any basis that it was a lie. And for God’s sake, it was an essay about a dream.  As
far as Hermione was concerned, whatever she submitted—the truth or a lie—it would not
make a difference. So far Professor Snape had not mentioned anything about her essay, so
she assumed that Snape did not see any signs of fabrication. Besides, students did minor
cheating all the time and they never got caught. Ron and Harry always cheated in Divination
by coming up with ridiculous, so-called fatal prophecies, which were all but true. Look at
Ron and Harry now—at the top of their Divination class.

She still could not believe what she did. Sure, she had broken lots of school rules before,
but she never cheated in her schoolwork. Everything she turned in to the teachers before
were products of hard work and observation. She had never doctored any data before. She
would not even let Harry and Ron cop her assignment and essays. What made her cheat,
then? Aside from the fact that she did not want to Snape to hear about such intimate details,
there was the fact that Malfoy definitely had influenced her. Malfoy had succeeded in making
her do what others—even her closest friends—could not make her do. ‘And not just in
terms of homework, Hermione thought. But she did not want to think about that yet.

She let her thoughts drift to somewhere else, and it was then that she realized that the last
three days also spared her of Malfoy. She had managed to avoid him. Sooner or later she
knew that they would come face to face again, but she preferred later. She was not ready
yet. What could she say to a guy she disliked but nearly had sex with? It would be too
uncomfortable for words.

Hermione noticed that it seemed that she was the only who was doing the avoiding. Malfoy
did not seek her, but he did not avoid her either. When she, Ron, and Harry met Malfoy,
Crabbe, and Goyle yesterday down the dungeons towards Potions class, Malfoy gave the
three of them his usual tirade of insults. For once, she could not retort anything back. She
could not look at Malfoy without blushing beet-red. Why was she the only one affected and
not Malfoy? Her feminine pride was hurt. It seemed that to Malfoy, what happened was just
nothing. ‘Of course it’s nothing to him. It should mean nothing to me, too. Right from
the start I’ve known that it’s a game, and I said that I’ll be a player,’ Hermione reminded
herself. She must not forget what she had gotten herself into, even if she really was not sure
what it was.

At the very least, Malfoy was acting like his usual self around Hermione. At least, things
were as normal as they could possible be.

Well, if having Sigurdins around school would be considered normal. In the past three
days, a few squads of Sigurdins—some of the youngest were in their early twenties, it
seemed—stationed themselves at every entrance and exit of the Hogwarts grounds.
Hermione could not help but compare Sigurdins to muggle police. Of course, Sugurdins
did not carry guns or any other artillery. They simply carried wands, but they were expertly
trained for defense and fighting. They were a level below the Aurors in terms of expertise.
Dumbledore told the students that the Sigurdins were at Hogwarts for simple precautionary
measures in light of You-Know-Who’s return since three years ago; he said there was no
immediate reason for anyone to worry. A feeling of cold fear washed over her. The fact that
Professor Dumbledore told them not to worry was a good reason to worry. First, classes
were suspended and now the school was heavily guarded. At least Hermione was grateful
that the dementors were not the ones who guarded Hogwarts now. The Sigurdins were
human, thankfully, and most of them were really friendly. Some of the male Sigurdins even
became objects of schoolgirl crushes in just three days.

She had just turned a corner when she felt someone tap her shoulder. She turned around,
and she saw someone she wanted to see the least.

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. The first thing that came to her mind was to
run away, and that was what she did. But she was not able to go very far, because the
same person she was running away from caught her by the arm.

“Is that what you’re planning to do? Run away from me forever?” Malfoy said harshly as
he pulled her to his chest. He gripped both her arms, so her book bag—in which she kept
her wand—fell on the floor.

Hermione forced herself to calm down. She looked at the corridor out of the corners of
her eyes. There was no one, and all the rooms were dark and most probably empty. It was
already half an hour before curfew, so all students must be in their common rooms right now.
The Sigurdins were all outside, guarding the perimeters of the school. She desperately wished
Filch would show up, but he would not be making rounds until curfew started. So basically,
she and Malfoy were alone down a deserted corridor.

She looked up at him, and she saw those gray eyes that held their usual coldness. But
she had seen those same eyes holding lust and intensity during the incident in the library.
No, she could not allow herself to be this close. They almost forgot themselves in the
library. She did not trust Malfoy, and she did not trust herself. For her part, Hermione
knew that the incident was not just hormones and sexual appetite. For her, it was the
culmination of all sorts of repression she had posed on herself all these years. As for
Malfoy—she did not want to know what other motivation beside lust Malfoy had. With
all these in consideration, what could stop them from forgetting themselves here at a
deserted corridor?

She struggled against him, but all in vain. He was too strong. She considered screaming,
but it did not assure her that Malfoy would let her go or help would come.  If she could
not escape after screaming, there was a possibility that Malfoy could do something worse
to her than grip her arms.

So she spat on his face. For safety measure, she spat again, this time, on his eyes.

“What the fuck!” Malfoy yelled. He immediately released Hermione’s arms to wipe his
face with his sleeves.

Now she was free. She could run straight to Professor McGonagall and tell her that she
was being harassed by Malfoy. But something made her stand rooted on the spot. Something
fell on the floor when Malfoy released her. It rested on her feet. It was a round white-gold
timepiece attached to a thick chain of white gold. It lay on the floor like an oversized open
locket. One side was the face of a clock. The other side was a portrait of a platinum-blond,
happy family.

Against her better judgement she picked it up and studied it.

Malfoy was still rubbing his eyes by then, but it was apparent that he was able to see
clearly enough again to see Hermione holding the timepiece.

“Give that back to me!” he snarled. He came near Hermione. He looked like a raging bull
which just saw red. But instead of avoiding him, she reached out her hand which held the
white-gold timepiece.

“I’m sorry. Here,” Hermione said. She was not able to look at the portrait for long, but
she had looked long enough to see that it was a portrait of the Malfoys in earlier years. A
younger Lucius and Narcissa were holding a cute blond toddler in their arms. There was
no mistaking that the blond toddler was Draco Malfoy. There were smiles on all their faces.
The Malfoys all looked formal indeed, unlike the Weasley family portraits where all of the
Weasleys were waving enthusiastically and grinning widely. Still, Hermione knew a real
happy smile when she saw one, and all Malfoys in the portrait wore it.

If Malfoy wanted to hit or curse her, he must have forgotten it, because he looked at her
in surprise, but he quickly recovered. “Did I hear you right? Did you just say sorry?” he
asked sarcastically as he grabbed the timepiece from her offered hand.

Hermione nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry I spat on you,” she said quietly as she looked at
the floor. She did not know why, but there was something about the portrait that made
her feel guilty. It was a vague indescribable feeling, but somehow, she saw a side of
Malfoy in that portrait, and she was guilty for ever thinking that Malfoy had always been
an insufferable git and that all of the Malfoys did not know how it was to be really happy.

Malfoy reached out inside his robes to pocket the timepiece. He still looked like he was
going to burst out of anger, so Hermione blurted out, “I’m really sorry, okay! I really am!”
Before she could stop herself, she gently touched his cheek with her right hand.

Malfoy seemed to make a move to swat her hand away, but his angry look quickly
dissolved into a half-confused, half-incredulous one. They stood silently, gazing at each
other, for a fleeting moment. Hermione was drawn and transfixed. It was a scary yet
pleasant feeling.

It ended as quickly as it started. It was Malfoy who broke the silence, and Hermione
dropped her hand as soon as he spoke. “I’m letting you go now, but don’t ever spit on
my face again unless you want to be sorry you were ever born,” Malfoy said
dangerously.

‘I have to run away. And stay away,’ Hermione reminded herself. Yet somehow, she
was not that afraid of Malfoy anymore. If anything, she desperately wanted to reach out
to him. She never tried reaching out to Malfoy before. She really did not know what to
say that could make him realize that she was sincere. She just hoped that she could do it
right. How do you break down walls, anyway? “That’s a beautiful portrait of your family
in the locket. I’m sorry that…that Lucius is dead,” Hermione whispered sincerely. She
really hoped that she did it right.

Malfoy’s face reddened a bit. “How dare you speak of my father like that! Don’t be a
hypocrite! Don’t mock me! You’re not sorry that my father is dead. He was a Death Eater,
remember! You’re happy that he’s dead!” he said angrily.

“You know what, you’re damn right! I’m not sorry that Lucius the Death Eater is dead!
I’m sorry because Lucius the father is dead! But now I don’t see why I’m even sorry,
when obviously you’re not!” Hermione said shrilly. Her efforts were not appreciated, but
she half-expected that already. Still, it hurt her to be accused so wrongly.

“If there’s anyone who’s the sorriest, it’s me! That was my father we’re talking about!
Contrary to what you think, my father meant something to me!” Malfoy bellowed. With
that he turned on his heel and angrily stormed away.

But not before Hermione saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes.
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco lay on his four-poster bed, his eyes wide open. His roommates, particularly Crabbe
and Goyle, were snoring soundly in their sleep. It seemed that Draco was the only one awake
in their room.

He turned to his side, shifting his goose-feather pillow underneath his head. ‘Damn it!’
he thought. Lucius Malfoy was a sensitive subject for him. His family was a sensitive subject,
for that matter.

Granger said that the Malfoy family portrait was beautiful. If she knew—if anyone just
knew—what happened to that family now.

His father was now dead. His mother…his mother was now mad. Insane. Crazy.

After his father died, his mother gradually became detached from her surroundings. She
slowly withdrew from the outside world, until she became lost in her own little world.
Nobody could bring her back, not even Draco, because she would not let anybody in.
It was useless to try, though. Narcissa Malfoy had peace in her own fantasy world. Draco
thought that his mother had found happiness again in her solitude. It was false peace, and
false happiness; yet it was better than a reality of pain and misery. It was better than
seeing her mourn over her dead husband.

Draco would not have his mother be confined to St. Mungo’s. It would be degrading not
just to the family name in general but her mother’s name in particular. Instead, she was at
the Malfoy Manor, being taken care of by a nurse and by the Malfoys’ long-time servants.
They were all sworn to secrecy. If they let anything out, Draco would make sure that they
would be sorry they ever existed.

Draco often wondered just how deep his parents’ relationship had been. He often
wondered because he was not deaf to rumours. He knew that people always saw the
Malfoys as a dysfunctional family. He had grown up hearing gossip on how his parents
got together—fixed marriage, use of Imperius Curse, forced wedding, marriage for
money and blood, marriage out of tradition. Draco, however, never knew the truth. He
never asked, and his parents never divulged information on that matter. The Malfoy
household was not tolerant of probing questions. But that did not mean that Draco would
not think about it every now and then. His parents certainly were not the showy and
affectionate type, but almost twenty years of marriage must have meant something; and
after seeing his mother waste away after his father’s death, Draco knew that the marriage
did mean something.

It was only Draco who thought of that. Most people thought that Narcissa and Lucius
Malfoy were partners in nothing more than in just one big mockery of a marriage.

Was Granger mocking him when she said that she was sorry his father was dead?
Was she one of those people? It didn’t seem that she was, but Draco didn’t want to
believe that. He must not make exceptions. People were all the same.

In his frustration he pounded a fist on his bed. Granger was messing up his mind, big time.

He had been following her ever since he drafted a course of action for his mission. He
started following her subtly around school since early this week. Draco was not fond of
going to the library but he did just for the sake of following and teasing her—all part of
his grand plan of seducing Granger. But after the out-of-hand tryst in the library, he
decided to lie low a little. He needed the time to remind himself the importance of iron
self-control. He needed a break from Granger, because she had touched him at a
sexual level. It might just be sexual, but it was still definitely a weakness in his part.

Mind over matter—that was what he held on to. When he saw her again earlier, he had
been convinced that he had conquered himself. It was the reason why he decided that he
could go back harassing Granger a bit without getting too involved himself.

What he never counted on was Granger touching him at a very different level this time.
It was almost at an emotional level.

Almost. He insisted to himself that it was just almost, but not quite. Still, he had not
been prepared. Draco thought that when it came to dealing with the memory of his
father, he could never be prepared. He could never be completely emotionless when
it came to Lucius Malfoy.

‘Oh fuck it!’ Draco thought angrily. Why did Granger have a knack of getting the best
of him? She was one of the very few people who could stand up against him, and as far
as Draco thought, she was the only female among them. She could lash out retorts that
would definitely touch a nerve. She had been doing that since they were in first year. He
would never admit it to anyone, but he always had the least bit of reluctant admiration for
Granger. After all, he was used to people trying to suck up to him, and that would get
boring every now and then. He had to give credit to someone who dared to be different
like Granger.

‘What the fucking hell!’ Draco thought as ire and frustration seeped into his veins. He
restlessly tossed and turned on his bed. This whole deal with Granger was far more difficult
than he ever imagined. It was getting harder every day.
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hours later after her encounter with Malfoy, Hermione sneaked down the halls, quietly
praying that Filch or Mrs. Norris wouldn’t catch her. She just came from the prefect’s
bathroom, having finished her nightly bath. She silently berated herself. Her inability to
go to sleep without taking a bath could cost her a lot of trouble. Indeed, it had already
cost her lot of trouble…and with no less than Malfoy. Finally, she reached, unscathed,
the entrance to the Gryffindor dormitories. She sighed with relief.

 “Password?” The Fat Lady asked Hermione sleepily.

“Amazing bouncing ferret!” Hermione declared with a flourish. She was the one who
recently changed the password from “Twinkle star” to that insulting moniker for Malfoy
out of spite. The portrait door swung open, and Hermione walked in quietly.

The Gryffindor common room was empty. It was ten minutes past one in the morning,
and everyone else had turned in for the night.

Hermione sat on one of the chairs facing the fireplace. Her hair was still wet from her
nightly shower, and she didn’t feel like sleeping yet. Instead, she stared at the glowing
embers of the fire, the light reflected in her cinnamon eyes.

It was a perfect time to think, especially now that she had a lot of things to think about.
Usually the common room was filled with noisy Gryffindors, but at the moment, it seemed
to be the one of the most peaceful places in the world.

She leaned back on her seat. Her outward appearance made her look like she was just
relaxing; but inside, another one of those confusing inner struggles was going on.

Hermione had managed to avoid thinking about the incident. One of the pressing matters
shoved to the back of her head surfaced now in her solitude. ‘What made me do it?
What’s the root cause of it all?’

It was simply not restricted to hormones. If hormones were the only thing she had to
worry about, she could have fought off Malfoy in the library three days ago. But such
was not the case. It was the culmination of everything else. It was her defiance and
rebellion against Ron. It was also her being sick and tired of looking wistfully at the
sweet couples around school. It was also her escape from all the expectations that were
piled up high on her. It was also submission to the freedom from the chains of her
responsibilities. It was her excuse to do something unpredictable. It was a protest
against all the stereotypes that she was labeled with.

It was as if the incident at the library was a catalyst for all pent-up feelings she had. All
these years she had worked hard to be where she was now. But being at the top had its
own shortcomings. She was expected to be stable and predictable. It was as if everyone
was using her as the criteria for stability. If word got out that Hermione did something
bad, naughty, or out-of-bounds, people would start talking about the world coming to
an end or something like that. It was annoying, really. It made her seem boring, plain,
uptight...and hopelessly static.

She should never ever repress herself like that. Maybe she should loosen up a bit. She
could only take so much, and there would always come a point where she would be full
to the brim and the only way out was to explode. She had now seen what happened
when little things add up, so she decided to let loose every now and then instead of letting
loose at one go, which proved to be scary and uncontrollable.

Hermione was not really the self-confident witch as she seemed to be. She was an insecure
girl, who worked hard to prove her worth. Once people saw the real Hermione, they would
know that she was vulnerable.

She wondered if Malfoy had his vulnerable side to him. She was almost sure that she
saw a softer side of Malfoy earlier. But she did not dare hope that Malfoy could be in
any way vulnerable. She should know well enough to stay away. ‘Just because I’m
vulnerable, doesn’t mean that everyone is,’ she reminded herself.

A feminine voice broke into her thoughts. “Hermione? Is that you? You still up?” someone
called out to Hermione from behind her seat.

Hermione looked behind her and saw Parvati in her purple nightdress, her midnight-black
hair flowing loosely around her face.

“Oh, hi Parvati. I’m not sleepy yet. I’m just killing time,” Hermione said to the girl. She
then patted the seat beside her. “How about you? Wanna sit?”

Parvati nodded and sat down at the seat beside Hermione. She too, stared into the
glowing fire.

“I couldn’t sleep either. I didn’t know that anyone would still be up,” Parvati whispered.
She had a dreamy look and a goofy grin on her face. Then she giggled to herself.

“Uh, are you okay, Parvati?” Hermione asked cautiously. Sure, Parvati was a giggly girl
to begin with, but Hermione could never be too sure. Parvati now looked more spaced out
than she ever did.

“Oh Hermione, I just have to show you this!” Parvati confided girlishly. Then she reached
behind her neck with both hands. Moments later, she held a silver necklace from her hand.
She dangled it in front of Hermione’s eyes.

“May I see it?” Hermione asked eagerly. The silver reflected the light from the fire so it
sparkled brightly from certain angles.

Parvati nodded. “Sure thing,” she said. Hermione reached for the necklace and cradled
it in her hand. She looked at it closely. It was a fine chain of silver, and the pendant was a
large silver star. In the middle of the star was a round stone. Hermione peered closely.
She thought that it was rhinestone, but she now saw that it was not simply just it. She
thought that she saw something inside it. She brought the pendant to her right eye and
peered inside the rhinestone. To her surprise she saw a portrait of a bright starry sky. The
necklace was simple yet exquisite in its beauty and simplicity.

“This is beautiful!” Hermione said as she returned the necklace to Parvati, who eagerly
wore it around her neck again.

“Neville gave it to me. He thought that the stars are appropriate because they’re the
reason why we got close in the first place. You know, it all started when I helped him
with his Divination, after all,” Parvati said. Then she blushed. “Oh sorry, I might be
boring you to death,” she said.

“No, no, of course not!” Hermione said. She paused for a while to think about how she
would phrase her next sentences without sounding gossipy or intruding.

“Um, Parvati, if you don’t mind me asking…how did you and Neville got together? All
I knew was that you became friends and the next thing you’re an item already,” Hermione
said. Then it was her turn to blush. “But if you think I’m being too nosy, then it’d be okay
if you don’t want to talk about it,” she added hastily.

Parvati laughed. “No you’re not! I’d love to tell you, just don’t sleep on me, okay?” she
said brightly. Hermione nodded.

“Okay, where do I start?  Oh Professor Trelawney asked me to tutor him in Divination
in fifth year. I guess you’ve known that, eh?” Parvati asked Hermione.

“Yeah,” Hermione replied with a slight nod.

“Okay, so we became friends while I was tutoring him. Fifth year, then. It was the time
that You-Know-Who regained power,” Parvati said, shuddering a little. “It was also the
time when Neville decided to tell everyone what really happened to his parents so
people would know just horrible You-Know-Who is,” she continued. She looked at
Hermione. “It was hard for him to do so, but he did. I admire him for that,” Parvati said.

Hermione remembered that well. Neville finally told everyone that his parents were
insane, and not dead as some people thought they were. Neville wanted people to know
that You-Know-Who’s evilness was real and terrible, and he used his parents as an
example of You-Know-Who’s lack of mercy. As a result, people gained a new respect
for Neville and for his parents as well. Of course, the Slytherins teased him relentlessly
about having insane parents, but the rest of the student body thought that it was a very
brave thing for Neville to do.

“Oh I admire Neville for that, too,” Hermione said in agreement.

Parvati smiled. “So where were we?” She paused to think. “Ah, okay. So he opened up
to people about his parents. He even told people about the memory charms that he was
subjected to when he was a baby,” Parvati said.

Hermione knew that, too. It turned out that Neville’s memory lapses were not inborn.
The truth was that baby Neville witnessed his mother’s torture. After that, he started
waking up in the middle of the night, crying relentlessly for hours after he had woken up.
His grandmother thought that he was traumatized and was having nightmares. He was
too young to talk then, so he had been subjected to a memory reflect-ray, which was
similar to muggle x-ray. Instead of bones, however, the memory reflect–ray returned
images from one’s memory. And so it was confirmed that baby Neville had the horrendous
images of his mother’s painful suffering in their own home, at the hands of some hooded
Death Eaters. It was then that the doctors at St. Mungo’s decided to subject him to
memory charms, so he could live without dealing with the trauma. However, since Neville
had been so young, the side effects of the charm had been stronger than the average; that
explained for his frequent forgetfulness.

“Hermione, have you ever wondered how Neville improved a lot, specially in terms of his
poor memory? He isn’t as forgetful now as he had been before,” Parvati asked Hermione.
She shifted in her seat to a slightly reclining position.

“Uh…the charms lost their side effect?” Hermione answered. She knew that the side
effects of memory charms could wear off sometimes, so she assumed that it was the
case with Neville.

Parvati shook her head. “It didn’t happen that way with Neville. So, the summer before
sixth year, he decided to seek psychiatric help at St. Mungo’s. He wanted to deal with the
trauma, so he could fight off the barriers of the memory charm,” she explained.

Hermione was surprised. She did not know that. “Should you be telling me this?” she
asked shyly. “Maybe I’m intruding too much,” she said. She wanted to know Neville and
Parvati’s story, but she did not want to be too nosy.

Parvati sat up straight in her seat. “Well, I want to share to you how we got together,
Herm. You wouldn’t understand if I didn’t tell you that,” she said. She looked straight
into Hermione’s eyes. “I told you because I trust you. I also know that you’ll understand,
because you’re open-minded and you care about Neville. I know you asked because
you care to know about it, unlike some people who asked me just for gossip’s sake,”
she said firmly. There was a pause, then Parvati spoke up again, this time to continue her
narrative. “Anyway, it turned out that the psychotherapy was emotionally hard for him.
At that time I was seeking professional help too at St. Mungo’s for bulimia,” Parvati said.
Hermione’s eyes grew wide. Parvati chuckled. “Yes I had bulimia when we were in fifth
year! I was pretty much messed up. So there, Neville and I spent a good part of the
summer for visits to St. Mungo’s. We often saw each other there. We basically shared
the same thing about dealing with the things we wanted to run away from. We understood
each other. We got closer, and the rest is history,” Parvati finished off reflectively.

Hermione sat in stunned silence. She did not realize how much other people also went
through.  Everyone had his or her demons to deal with.  As she sat thinking about what
Parvati just confided in her, she felt a newfound respect for both Parvati and Neville. They
were the kind of people that these dark times needed. They were everything that You-
Know-who had never been and never would be.

Parvati looked at Hermione curiously. “I guess you now think Neville and I make a
pair of loons, eh? I guess we give new meaning to ‘crazy in love’,” she said giggling.
Then her face turned serious, “Please don’t tell anyone I told you, Herm. Promise me,”
she said urgently.

“I promise,” Hermione answered sincerely. Then her face broke out in a huge grin.
“And no, I don’t think you’re a pair of loons. Not all the time, anyway,” she said
mischievously. Both girls giggled softly so as not to wake anyone up. As the giggles
subsided, Hermione looked wistfully into the fire. “I just wish I could have something
like you and Neville have, you know. But it seems that no one’s interested to have
that kind of thing with me,” she said longingly. “I wonder what’s wrong with me,”
she asked more to herself than at Parvati.

“Oh Herm! You’re smart, sweet, pretty, and kind. A lot of guys are surely interested.
It’s just that you’re so intimidating! Head Girl, class brain, and you’ve got protective
bodyguards for best friends! They’re the Boy Who Lived and the most volatile Weasley,
for crying out loud! And the fact that you dated a world-famous Seeker doesn’t help
any interested guy’s ego,” Parvati pointed out with a passion. “Nothing’s wrong with
you. It’s the guys who have a problem with their insecurities,” she said with a flourish.

Hermione laughed.  “Hey thanks,” she said warmly. Hermione and Parvati might not
belong in the same circle of friends, but being under the same house and same year for
nearly seven years did not amount to nothing.

“No problem! Thanks too!” Parvati answered. She yawned and then looked up at the
clock. “It’s almost two in the morning! I think we better hit the beds,” Parvati cried out.

Hermione was feeling tired as well, with all the new information about Malfoy, Neville,
and Parvati in her head. She nodded at Parvati. “Yeah, I think we’d better get to sleep
now.”

After a couple of parting greetings, both girls returned to their own beds to catch up on
their sleep.

As Hermione snuggled into her bed minutes later, her head was filled with thoughts of
Malfoy, Neville, and Parvati. Then her eyes slowly closed, and her mind went blank to
let sleep take over.
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“No….no…please no. Stop! Don’t…” Harry moaned in his sleep. He violently thrashed
on his bed, gasping and groaning in what seemed to be an excruciating pain. Beads of
sweat dotted his forehead as his face contorted into a mask of great suffering and misery.

Then suddenly, he woke up with a start. When his eyes opened, he found himself sitting
up on his bed, panting heavily as if something heavy was pressing against his chest. He
heard his roommates stirring a bit on their beds, but no one seemed to have woken up.
Harry found that last bit fortunate for him at least, because he did not feel being fussed
over and being interrogated.

His scar was almost always vaguely painful, probably because Voldemort was now fully
reborn for a few years. But his nightmares…he had stopped having nightmares for quite a
time now. But they were back, with a force greater than ever.

Harry then lied down flat on his back, staring at the inky blackness of the night. He was
still breathing with great difficulty, and he realized that his whole body was trembling. The
pain in his body was slowly ebbing away. Probably the pain was just in the dream. Yet,
his scar felt like it was burning even now that he was awake. Suddenly, a terrible, slashing
pain sliced through his scar. His head lolled from side to side as he tried to shake it away.
Harry knew that it would not go away, but he had to distract himself from the unbearable
pain he was feeling. His heart pounded crazily against his chest. He bit his lower lip to stop
himself from crying out loud. Minutes later his tongue tasted something coppery. Blood
oozed from his lip at the spot where he bit too hard.

Harry did not know how long he endured it all. Maybe minutes, or maybe hours. However
long it took, it felt like an eternity.

Soon the even the pain in his scar subsided, until it felt like just a dull annoying ache. His
breathing and heartbeat turned to normal. He was still slightly trembling when he reached
for his wand under from under his pillow.

“Lumos,” he murmured. He drew the bed curtains aside. He reached for the stand beside
him and took his glasses. With cold clammy hands he perched them on his nose. He squinted
at the small clock on the stand. ‘It’s four in the morning already’, Harry thought. He still
had lots of hours to sleep through, but Harry could not make himself go back to sleep yet.
Slowly and quietly he sat up again in his bed.

He placed his wand on the stand; thus the wand light illuminated a small area of his bed. He
reached under his bed and retrieved his backpack. He took out a roll of parchment and a quill
form inside the bag. He would write to Sirius.

Years before, Harry had been reluctant to tell anyone about his nightmares in the fear of
being thought of as a huge baby. But now he knew better. He now considered his dreams
and the pain as a signal that Voldemort was just near. Harry vowed that no one else would
die like Cedric did as long as he could help it.

Harry bit the end of his quill as he thought of what he was going to write Sirius. He absently
stared at the white light emanating from his wand while his mind tried to remember every
detail of his nightmare. After a few minutes, he clutched his head between his hands out of
frustration. Nothing clear came to his mind.

He could not remember details of the nightmare, even though Harry was positive that it
played very clearly in his mind while he was sleeping. Now that he was awake, though, all
he remembered were just screaming, pleading, running, and crying people whose faces
were now a blur. He also remembered chaos and ruins…but of what, he could not really
remember.

One thing was for sure, though. It was the work of Voldemort.

But where did his dream happen? Was this a prophetic dream? What felt like panic began
to surge through him, but he quelled that panic with the assurance that Hogwarts was safe,
especially now that Sigurdins guarded the place. Harry focused on struggling to remember
everything. It was crucial for him to do so.

Harry wrote everything he could recall to Sirius. Sirius was no longer in hiding after his
name got cleared during Harry’s fifth year, so now Sirius could openly help Harry, which
made things a whole lot easier between them.  As soon as the Owlery opened in the
morning, Harry would go up there and send the letter to Sirius. He also decided to talk
to Dumbledore immediately, probably even before breakfast. He rolled the piece of
parchment and tucked it under his pillow. He could not leave it lying around. Not that
Harry did not trust his roommates. It was just that someone might pick up the parchment
and scan over it to find out whom it belonged to. Harry did not want any other person to
know about what he feared. He did not want to cause any panic that might be
unnecessary after all, anyway.

Harry felt sleep coming back to him as he yawned. He placed his quill on the stand and
returned his bag to under his bed. “Finite Incantatem,” he murmured. The light radiating
from his wand immediately died out. He returned his wand back under his pillow.

Harry settled back on his bed and brought the blankets up to his chest. He fervently
wished that he could get enough rest. He also fervently wished that nothing bad would
happen as he slowly drifted back to what he hoped was a sound sleep.
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione walked down from the dormitory. It was a quarter of an hour before breakfast,
so most Gryffindors were up already and were hanging around in the common room. Most
people were busily talking, while some frantically crammed for their homework.

She scanned the room with her still sleepy eyes. There were brunettes and blonds, but
she could not see the familiar mop of jet-black hair and the fiery red hair. Where were
Ron and Harry?

“Morning, Herm,” Parvati said to her from the side. Hermione turned to look and saw her
sitting on one of the armchairs with Neville squashed in next to her.

“Morning to you both” Hermione said. She stifled a yawn. She realized that she needed a
few more hours of sleep if she did not want yawning around all day.

“Did the bed bugs bite, Hermione? You still look a little sleepy,” Neville noted good-naturedly
as his eyes twinkled cheerfully. ‘Parvati did him good,’ Hermione thought fondly as she
observed the pair. Parvati’s hand was in Neville’s. Most of the time, Hermione disliked public
displays of affection, but it seemed that with Parvati and Neville, the displays were nothing short
of cute and sweet.

Hermione smiled. “Yeah, I guess,” she said. Parvati winked and Hermione could not help
but laugh a little.

Hermione walked nearer to where they sat. “Hey, you’ve seen Ron or Harry anywhere?”
she asked.

“Right behind you,” Parvati said as she craned her neck to look over Hermione’s shoulder.
Hermione turned to look and surely, Ron was coming down from the boys’ side of the
dormitory while Ginny was walking down from the girls’.

“See you later,” Hermione said to Parvati and Neville. They both nodded in acknowledgment.
Hermione walked away and bumped into Dean.

“Oops sorry,” Hermione said absently. She would have continued walking if Dean had not
blocked her way.

Dean looked at her sternly. “Ten points from Gryffindor for not looking where you’re
going,” he said. His tone and manner was perfectly like hers. It was uncanny. Then he
laughed mischievously.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Not another one of Dean’s impersonations! “Really, Dean,”
she said. “But nice one there. I almost thought you were me,” she continued with a laugh.

“I’m getting good at it!” Dean called to her as he started to walk away. She just shook
her head while laughing. Moments later, Ron and Ginny were by her side.

“Hi Herm. What’s so funny”? Ginny asked pleasantly. Ginny looked wide-awake while
Ron looked as if he was sleepwalking. Ron walked over near the fireplace and plopped
down on an armchair.

“Oh, it’s just Dean and his impersonations,” Hermione said. She looked at Ron. “Uh oh.
He hasn’t fully woken up yet,” she said. She and Ginny went up to Ron. He was starting to
doze off again when Hermione poked Ron’s arm. “Hey, wake up!” she said. Ginny
echoed her commands to Ron. He opened one eye and grunted.

“Where’s Harry, by the way?” Ginny asked. Then she turned to Lavender who was also
sitting on one of the armchairs beside Ron’s. “Lavender, I’ll just sit on the chair’s arm. Is
it okay with you?” Ginny asked. Lavender, who was busily finishing an essay, absently
murmured, “Sure fine, go on.”

Ginny perched on the chair’s arm. “I asked you Ron, where’s Harry?” she prodded while
Hermione lightly shook his shoulders.

“Okay, okay! I’m awake!” Ron said. He straightened up in his seat. “Harry woke up a
bit earlier than I did. He says he’s going to send a letter to Sirius just to check if he’s okay.
Harry said he’ll just meet us for breakfast.” he said.

“Well, breakfast will be in a few minutes. C’mon let’s go. I have to get coffee to wake
myself up,” Hermione urged Ron, who was yawning very widely.

“Yeah, c’mon Ron. Liesl and Mia are waiting for me at the Great Hall,” Ginny said
impatiently.

Ron grumpily stood up from the seat. Hermione and Ginny led the way to the exit with
Ron trudging behind them. Ron could be very hard to wake up in some mornings. It
seemed that today was one of those.

Hermione, Ginny, and Ron climbed out of the portrait hole. Once they were out in the
corridor, Ron stretched out his arms over his head.

“Let’s get going,” Ginny said impatiently. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave
her brother a very annoyed look. Hermione smiled to herself. Weasley tempers were
really volatile.

Juts then, they saw Professor McGonagall walking down the corridor towards them.
Moments later, she was by their side. The professor looked as she usually did. It was
early in the morning but her hair was tied already in a tight bun, without a strand of
out of place. However, her face looked somewhat strained today.

“There you are. I was just about to fetch you from the common room. Ronald and
Virginia Weasley, you have to come with me to the Headmaster’s office right now,”
she said curtly. She then looked at Hermione, then back to the Weasleys. “Just the
two of you,” she continued.

Ron suddenly became wide awake and alert. “What did we do?” he asked worriedly.
He looked at Ginny who was also surprised and confused. Ginny shrugged when she
caught her brother’s eye.

“Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you. This way,” she said. She gestured at the
two Weasleys to follow her.

Ron and Ginny had no choice. “See you at breakfast,” Ginny murmured to Hermione.
Ron nodded at her. Then they both got on their way to follow Professor McGonagall.
Hermione was left alone at the corridor. Her sleepiness had gone, replaced by worry.
She could not discount the fact that Professor McGonagall looked a bit stricken. But
for now, Hermione had no idea what could be wrong. That was, if there was anything
wrong in the first place. She walked down the corridor again. Lately, she had a lot of
things she found herself worrying about. Maybe a good breakfast could take away all
the nervous knots in her stomach. Of course, it seemed that she had to forego the coffee.
She had no use for hyped nerves in her current situation.
 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ron and Ginny followed Professor McGonagall. They lagged a few steps back, so they
could talk out of the professor’s earshot.

“Did you get yourself into trouble? I’m your default guardian here at school, you know,”
Ron said as he looked suspiciously to Ginny. Ginny reddened out of annoyance.

“I haven’t been in any trouble, Ron! I should be the one asking you,” she retorted. Then
her face turned serious. “You didn’t go sneaking around and breaking rules again with Harry
and Hermione, did you? Mum would—”

Ron cut her off. “I’m not in trouble,” he said confidently. “Well, as far as I know,” he said
as an afterthought. Then he saw Ginny’s disapproving look. “Okay, I’m perfectly sure that
I’m not in any trouble,” he said hastily.

Professor McGonagall turned around and looked at them. “Both of you, make it faster,”
she said. Then she continued leading the way.

Ron and Ginny quickened their steps, and they walked in silence. What could be the
reason why Dumbledore wanted to see both Weasleys? Was this a family matter? In
Ron’s mind, various scenarios formed against his will. He tried to push the thoughts
away, but he could not help himself. After his father’s death Ron had been a bit paranoid.
Oh, he was still the practical Ron; the only difference was that a small part of him always
expected that the worst could happen. However, he had managed to shove that part of
himself to the back of his mind. Every now and then, though, it moved to the surface of
his consciousness. Like now. His hands suddenly felt cold and clammy.  ‘Forget it Ron.
You’re being irrational.’ Ron scolded himself. He looked at Ginny at his side. Her face
was serene. ‘I have to be sensible like my little sister,’ Ron tried to convince himself.

Soon they reached the familiar stone gargoyle.

“Toffee-chocolate éclair,” Professor McGonagall said to the gargoyle. ‘Same
password the last time Harry went here,’ Ron thought to himself.

As expected, the gargoyle immediately sprung to life and moved aside to reveal the
splitting wall behind. The three of them went inside and stepped onto a spiral staircase
that was moving upward; as he did so, the split wall closed behind him. The staircase
rose up in circles until it reached a polished oak door ahead. Professor McGonagall
lifted the griffin-shaped brass-knocker and knocked on the door. It quietly opened
and they entered the large circular room. Ron had been inside here before, and the
furnishings were the same every time. He saw Dumbledore sitting on his high chair
behind his desk. The Headmaster looked unusually grave.

Dumbledore nodded at Professor McGonagall. “It’s going to be okay, Minerva,” he
said with a strangely strained voice. She nodded and led both Ron and Ginny nearer
to the Headmaster’s desk.

“Come sit here, both of you children”, Dumbledore said gently. He motioned to the
two seats at the front of his desk. Ginny and Ron sat and both looked expectantly at
Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall hung back a bit and stood to the side.

“He’s coming by Floo powder, isn’t he?” Dumbledore asked Professor McGonagall
in the same strained voice. Ron noticed that his bright blue eyes looked heavy and tired.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Ron wildly thought. Even Ginny looked uneasy.

“Yes he is,” McGonagall’s said in a cracked voice. Ron turned to look at her. She
looked as if she was about to cry. That was very unusual, considering that this was
stern and composed McGonagall that he was thinking about.

“What’s going on? Who’s coming?” Ron demanded to Dumbledore. The hell he cared
now about courtesy to elders. His nerves were now positively jittering.

Dumbledore never got to answer, though, because as soon as Ron finished speaking,
someone stumbled from the fireplace. A red head was prominent amidst the cloud of
white dust.

“George!” Ron yelled as soon as he recognized the person. His fear suddenly melted
away. He stood up to rush to his brother. Ginny did the same thing.

“Hey you both,” George said as he affectionately rumpled their hair with each of his hands.

“Are you here for a visit? Where is Fred?” Ron asked excitedly. But Ginny was
looking extremely worried. It was then that Ron noticed that his usually laughing
older brother was pale and grave.

“George, there’s something wrong, isn’t it?” Ginny asked gently. The fear was etched
on her face. Ron started to feel the fear build up inside him again.

George looked awfully tired and his eyes were rimmed with red. Ron wanted to ask
him why but he found his mouth suddenly dry. A part of him did not want to find out
why, anyway. That part preferred to be in denial.

George looked at Dumbledore. Ron followed his gaze, so he saw the Headmaster
sorrowfully nod at George. Ron looked back in panic at his brother. George took
in a deep shaky breath.

“Hogsmeade was attacked by Death Eaters earlier at dawn. Our shop—our shop
was one of the first to be hit, and—and—Fred, he—he—” George said weakly, his
voice trailing off.

Ginny looked pale as death as he clutched George’s robes tightly. Ron clenched and
unclenched his fist. “No…no…” Ron pleaded. He had a feeling what would George
might say, but he would not tolerate that feeling. He would not. Professor McGonagall
began sobbing quietly. ‘No!’ Ron thought wildly.

George’s face contorted in what seemed to be heavy and unbearable grief. Then he
managed to choke out, “Fred…Fred—Fred—he’s—he’s dead.”
 
 
 

A/N: I’m sorry I had to kill off Fred. It was really hard to write it. I love the Weasleys,
so I did this just because I have to.

I’m trying to explain why Hermione let things go as far as they did in the library. More
explanation will come up.

Back to Chapter 7
Chapter 9