"Nope, you're not coming," decided Harry firmly.

Hermione's eyes flashed with anger. "Why?" she demanded heatedly. "I've been through everything with you and now you won't let me come destroy Voldemort with you?"

He let out a weary sigh. "It's going to be dangerous."

"It's always dangerous! Besides, Ron's going, so why can't I?" she insisted.

"I –" Harry closed his eyes. "I want you to stay safe. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"But –"

Having enough of this conversation, Harry stood up. "I need my energy for tomorrow if I am to destroy Voldemort. This is final – you are not coming." He shut the door crisply.

Angrily, she went to bed. She lay awake for a long time, thinking about how unfair Harry always treated her. Hadn't she proved that she was smart enough, brave enough, and loyal enough? She would never desert him – why did he refuse to let her go? She had come on almost every mission before.

Someone visited her in her dreams as she slipped into a fitful sleep. It wasn't the first time she met this person in her subconscious mind. They never told each other their names, but he was always there when she felt angry or sad. He would be the one to comfort her, and she trusted him with her feelings.

The hooded figure lowered his hood. He was a handsome, pale man with dark brown hair, just a shade darker than Hermione's. "How are you feeling?" he inquired gently.

"I'm angry," she admitted, mesmerized as always. "Harry won't let me come with him on a special mission."

"Harry who?" he asked, his eyes glinting.

"Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter does not control you. You are free to do whatever you wish…. Whatever I wish." He had a leering, greedy look in his eyes, and she shivered in spite of herself.

"What do you mean?" she whispered.

The man raised his wand and cast a spell to bond the two of them together. Hermione let out a soft gasp as her skin seared, and sighed as the pain slowly ebbed away.

"Goodbye, Hermione Granger."

The dream faded. Hermione did not know how he knew her name, nor did she know that this man fed off revenge, hurt, anger, and envy.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny ventured into a dark home the next day.

"Okay," Harry murmured. "The room's in the door on the left. He's there. I saw, in my dream. If I yell, you come help me. Otherwise, stay here in case the Death Eaters come. Is that clear?"

His two friends nodded, their loyalty unwavering. Ginny was trembling. "Please don't get hurt," she pleaded and threw her arms around Harry.

Immediately, Harry felt as if he could do anything. "I love you."

Pulling away from the hug was a very depressing thing to do, so he did so reluctantly. He forced himself to walk to the door, open it, and step in silently. He knew there was another room inside of this room – and that room was where Voldemort was.

Something caught his eye and stopped him in his tracks. There was the back of a bushy brown head in front of the door he needed to pass through. Inwardly, he groaned.

"Hermione, I told you not to come!" he hissed. Harry felt angry, more about the fact that she could get hurt than the fact that she didn't listen to him.

Hermione did not turn around. When she spoke, her voice sounded dull, dead, and void of emotion. "You don't control me," she whispered.

A moment of silence passed before at last she turned to face Harry.

Her eyes gleamed red.