A/N: Okay, here we have it guys! The first chapter to The Volition: Part 2. A lot to say here, guys. I've actually cried (happy tears) over the reviews for the first part and I've been so hesitant to make this next part because I want to make it as good as the last. Ok so this takes place about a year after where we left off. So guys get ready, and here we go.

Disclaimer: All characters and partial plot belong to J.K. Rowling.

Song of the Chapter: Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift feat. The Civil Wars

It was calm.

Peaceful.

But the world around her was not. And more importantly her mind. It was lost. Like a forgotten feather of a Phoenix, holding so much value and purpose, but can easily be dropped in a murky puddle or among the many leaves that laid upon the forest they had apparated themselves into.

And what made things worse was that she wouldn't know when it would return, or even if she would live to have it back. Her sanity was almost tangible, like grasping out among the dense thicket of trees and reaching for it as if her life depended on it.

Which it did.

Hermione Granger could stare out into the trees for hours and hours at a time, but there were more important things to be doing. She walked up to her tent and parted the flap, to find Ron asleep in his bunk. His arm was bandaged tightly whilst the other one grasped it gently to his chest. The other day, as they escaped the Ministry of Magic, he was splinched. If it hadn't been for the Essence of Dittany, he would have bled out.

She pulled out a stool next to him, and moved a stray lock of hair from his face. Ron was handsome, kind, and a fighter. He was everything she needed in her life. Everything that was right to the naked eye.

But it was wrong.

Oh how wrong it felt.

Ron shifted slightly in his bunk, his head moving to the side and brushing against Hermione's palm. His eyes slowly opened, finding hers, and smiling softly. "Mione," he moaned.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. He moved his arm slightly, but quickly regretted it with a groan of pain. "Not so good," he complained, "Don't you have any more Dittany?"

"I used it all, and it won't work on bruises."

"Oh," Ron stated sadly, slightly pouting his lips. She had to, she was obliged to. She kissed his lips gently and let her forehead rest against his. She could feel him smiling again and pulled away. "You rest now, okay?"

"Alright," he said dreamily as he fell back to sleep. Hermione removed herself from the tent and went back outside to feel the cold late fall air. She felt a prescence behind her and turned slowly to meet Harry's depressing gaze. His green eyes shimmered in the light of the fire he had made, his hair gently moving west with the wind. He leaned back against the tree he rested against and beckoned Hermione to join him. She walked over and sat across from him, watching the fire dance in the reflection of his glasses.

"How long until he can move again?" he asked.

"I don't know. Could be a few days," she answered.

"We don't have a few day-"

"I know, just-just give him time. That's all I ask." Harry scoffed, shifting to his side and moving away from her. "Is that a problem?" Hermione pondered.

Harry toyed with two twigs on the ground and poked the fire. "He shouldn't be complaining so much, is all," Harry stated, "It was just a scratch."

"He was splinch-"

"But he doesn't exactly need to be treated like a patient! This is a war! Not some hospital where he gets checked on every 5 minutes!" Harry exclaimed in a hushed tone.

"I don't check on him every 5 minutes! He's hurt and I just help him with the pain."

"Whatever," Harry scoffed and poked at the fire again. Hermione waited for a moment before sitting up behind his hunched back and unlocking the locket from around his neck. He let it fall into her hand which held it tightly. She could see the tension drift away from his once tense form, his shoulders falling back loosely, and an even sigh coming from his throat.

"Better?"

"Yes."

"It was my turn, anyway," Hermione stated, locking the horcrux around her neck and letting the cool silver fall against her thin shirt. She moved back to her spot against the tree and leaned back against the jagged tree trunk. Her eyes wandered back to the broken boy silhouetted in front of the fire. There was so much a 17 year old boy shouldn't have to face, and his life at that moment, was all those things. Plus being hit by a truck coming 70 miles per hour.

She could say the same for herself as well. They were getting nowhere with their search, and as they days rolled by, things seemed to be getting harder and harder. Earlier that day, they had overheard on the radio that Hogwarts was being taken over by Deatheaters, and that student life was becoming difficult for their fellow peers. From torturing the first years, to muggleborns being treated like slaves. It wouldn't be cliché to say that the fate of the world was in their hands, because that was exactly how it felt. "Are you happy?" Harry suddenly asked. What a question that was. To ask if she was happy, so vague yet so simple. "What?" she asked rhetorically.

"Are you happy, Mione?"

"I'm...fine." Harry moved back to his spot on the tree and looked her directly in the eyes, giving her a knowing look. "Try that again," he asked again.

"Could be better, I suppose," she stated whilst plucking at a bit of grass.

"Is there anywhere you'd rather be?"

"To do what's right: No."

"And to do what's wrong?" he questioned.

"Absolutely," she thought aloud, not realizing she had said anything. She regretted it and looked up at Harry's already knowing face. His hand moved up to inside his coat pocket, and picked up a bit of parchment. He opened it, revealing a map of various towns and locations with red circles drawn around few, and lines connecting them all. She had thought she'd hidden it well, under the springs of the bunk bed hidden under Ron, and she didn't even want to know how Harry came upon it.

"What are you thinking, Hermione?"

"Trying to connect all Deatheater sightings. Trying to pinpoint where they might go next."

"Ron loves you, you know."

"I know," she sighed dejectedly, "I just-jus... I guess I'm not that happy."

"No one's happy. The only difference between you and the rest of the world is that we deal with it." Harry stood up and looked back down at her frustratingly, and walked abruptly away from the fire and in front of their tent. She should have expected this, but then again she didn't expect him to find her map. Harry was right. She should focus on the task at hand, not something as silly and deranged as this. It was a crazy plan she shouldn't have come up with in the first place. It would not only ruin whatever relationship she had with Ron and the close to falling apart friendship with Harry; it might even take a part of her with it.

"He's at Hogwarts," he stated.

Hermione looked up suddenly intrigued. "They say he's the new Head Boy," he said, "And he's safe there," before disappearing into the tent. A slow tear rolled down the corner of her eye, and a wide grin appeared on her face. She cupped her face in her hands and cried silently in relief.

He was safe.

And with that, a small piece of her sanity returned to her, along with her heart.


Hermione didn't realize just how long she had sat there crying into her own hands. It was long enough that the fire had already gone out and it was nearly dawn. She told herself that it was okay to cry every once in a while, especially when Ron and Harry weren't around. She lifted her head and could see the faint orange glow from the horizon. The sun was already rising and she hadn't slept at all that night.

It didn't matter much to her anyway, since lately she couldn't sleep at all even from the warmth of her own bunk. There were far too many things she missed from her old life. Most of all was her parents. She had erased their memories and sent them away to Australia where they would have absolutely no recollection of their only daughter. The thing she feared the most was that she wouldn't be able to get to them again and recover those lost memories. She could just picture them happily enjoying their new home and new life, and taking that away from them for her own selfish needs was just unimaginable.

Hermione blocked the tears from escaping anymore and stood up groggily. She shouldn't have stayed up all night crying, it wasn't healthy. And hearing about Draco last night...

No, not again.

"Crying again, Hermione? You really shouldn't."

The sudden voice echoed in her ears. She spun all around her, searching for the intruder with a wand out. She kept turning, panicked in search of anyone out there. Then she quickly peered into the tent only to find that Harry and Ron were still asleep.

"Hermione."

"Who's there?! I'm warning you, I-" But she stopped. Because directly in front of her stood Draco Malfoy. In the flesh.

"Impossible," the word escaped her tongue, "You're-you're at Hogwarts!"

"I'm well aware. Lower your wand, will you, love?" She shouldn't have lowered her wand so quickly, for this was obviously witchcraft and someone was trying to mess with her mind. However for some odd reason, she could not bring herself to keep it up.

"You're not him. It can't be."

"Of course I'm not him. You said it yourself, I'm at Hogwarts."

"The-then how are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious, Hermione?," he went on, stalking around her like prey, "You brought me here. For the brightest witch of our age you can be utterly slow."

"Well, it certainly sounds like you," she mumbled, "Are you saying this is all my imagination?"

"Theoretically, yes. And I humbly thank you for thinking of me at a time like this. I know you couldn't stay away," he said in a smug tone, and adding a wink, "It seems as though this is the time when you needed me the most, and by thinking of me-"

"I was able to conjure something that isn't actually there," she interrupted.

"Someone, Hermione. I just gave you a compliment, the least you could do is treat me like a person." Hermione had to stop herself from giving him a nasty look, for he was only a mere figment of her imagination. And by doing so, this meant she was talking to herself, and she has officially lost her sanity. "I've lost my mind," Hermione whispered and rest her hand on her forehead, finding that it was indeed slightly warm. She sat down on the nearest rock and kept her eyes off of Draco. "You haven't lost your mind, love. Otherwise you'd be off the nutter speaking gibberish."

"I'm talking to myself, Draco. I have indeed lost my mind."

"I don't think so. I actually think you've gained some of it back," he stated sitting on the rock beside her. She couldn't see the expression on his face, but could tell that he was worried. "How can I get you to leave?" Hermione asked.

"Just say when, love. But if you really do want me to go, then why am I still here?"

Hermione looked up and turned to face him, not realizing how close he was in proximity. She wanted to reach out and rest her hand on his pale face, touch his silky hair and rest her head in the crook of his neck forever. "Can I touch you?" she asked.

"I don't think it works that way. But you can try." She reached out and just before she could touch his face, she paused and placed her hand back on her lap. "No, not yet," she suddenly realized.

"That's alright."

"Does the real Draco have visions of me too?"

"I don't know. But I'm pretty sure the reason you seeing me now is from spending so much time in this god forsaken forest."

"How long will you be here?"

"As long as you want me to be here."

"And if I wanted you to leave right now, will you come back?"

"If you want."

"I wish the real Draco was this submissive." Draco let out a soft chuckle and stood up to kneel in front of her. "What else is on your mind, Hermione?"

"Are you able to feel what the real Draco is feeling?"

"I don't think so. I think my abilities go just about as far as you know."

"Okay," Hermione said. She wanted to ask him so much more, but knew that this Draco would know nothing then what she already knows. Still, her heart ached even for this mere image of him. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too, Hermione."

Hermione looked at him skeptically and noted, "The real Draco never said that," as he turned around and made his move to leave.

"I know," Draco stated while retreating, "But I think that you've known that all along."


~PLEASE REVIEW~