Hermione knew that something was off the moment she woke up. It wasn't anything specific, only a feeling deep in her chest but she had little doubt that something had changed drastically since yesterday evening when she went to bed.

Having yet to actually open her eyes and face the day, Hermione reached blindly for the wand she knew was lying on her bed stand, and cast a simple Tempus spell. She slowly opened her eyes blinking at the sudden and unexpected light as the air unexpectedly was filled with glowing numbers, some, it seemed, ever growing, others dwindling before her. She saw at least ten different times counting up even showing milliseconds as they showed time from what she assumed was all around the world.

With her suspicion of change confirmed Hermione warily waved her wand to make the numbers disappear.

They did.

So did every number in all of the books stacked up against her bedroom wall. Shrugging the strangeness off, Hermione attempted to walk towards her shower only to change her mind when she realized that she would have to perform magic to even turn on the damn thing. She ended up simply going to the bathroom to freshen up and brush her teeth before going down for breakfast.

She had only just left the bathroom, however, when she felt a sharp twinge in her chest and fell to the floor as her legs gave in. Hermione gasped from the sudden pain and odd feeling, it almost felt as if her heart was being pulled towards- something…

The brunette took a few minutes to get used to the feeling before she attempted to stand again, tentatively making her way over to her wardrobe for a change of clothes. She had only just reached the closet before she remembered that she would need magic to even open it. Growling in frustration and pain but not quite in the mood to continue her day wearing just her (slytherin) green nightgown she walked shakily out to the headgirls' shared common room and called for Luna Lovegood, whose room was opposite to Hermiones.

Since it was their final year at Hogwarts and everyone had been under such a heavy amount of pressure since the war had finally ended and Voldemort had fallen, Dumbledore had decided to split the tasks of the Head boy and –girl up into four people, one from each house, thereby dividing up the pressure and responsibilities to a more manageable level. Hermione had been chosen as the obvious Gryffindor representative, while Luna was a general surprise for all who did not know her intimately. Justin Finch-Fletchley was head boy from Hufflepuff, and Draco Malfoy had been chosen from Slytherin. The latter had caused uproar at three of four tables at the announcement but now, three months into the school year, things had calmed down and most seemed to realize that the blonde had definitely changed, perhaps even for the better.

Hermione only had to call out once for Luna to hear her and come running to see what was going on.

"Good morning Hermione", she said in her usual calm voice and a small smile, "Can I help you with something? Why are you standing like that?" She gestured to the way Hermione was currently leaning against the wall as if it took real effort to remain standing.

"Hey Luna," Hermione smiled and the pulling feeling seemed to loosen its grasp on her so she could stand on her own again. She breathed a few times to test the sudden lack of pain before returning her attention to her friend. "I was wondering… Could I get you to open my wardrobe for me? I think I'm coming down with something and my magic is behaving weird…"

Hermione knew this was more than a small flu, but she had no wish to worry anyone until she had more information to go on. Her chest felt as normal as ever and she felt calm enough to try to think rationally. What could this be?

"Sure", Lunas voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she smiled as her friend returned to her own quarters to get her wand.

It took less than thirty seconds for Luna to return and they both walked to Hermiones room where Luna performed a minor Alohomora with no ill effects. Hermione thanked her and laughed as Luna only brushed her off with a mention of the abnormal amount of Nargles currently residing above Hermiones bed. With a wave Luna left for breakfast and Hermione started to change into her altered school robes.

Since the war and the sudden unexpected news of her parents death in a muggle car accident in Australia (oh, the irony), Hermione had taken to wear more black than strictly necessary. Her skirt, which had always been longer than strictly necessary, had been charmed back to its original length –or possibly a bit shorter- and was now a pitch black colour, matching her shirt and robes. The only colour found on her clothes was her Headgirl badge, gleaming with her golden and ruby house colours. She never did much in makeup, as her eyelashes already were long and dark enough for her eyes to be emphasized, but she enjoyed the smudged look of a bit of eyeliner for no real reason, so she always drew on a dark line before leaving for breakfast.

Hermione had hardly walked more than a few feet away from the portrait of an angel with a burning sword, which hid the entrance to her quarters, before her chest felt as if it was going to collapse from an unseen pressure, pulling her backwards the other way down the hallway.

Hermione realized, startled, that she had no control over her own body as it raced down the hallway, turning at the stairs and pounding down, down, down. After three staircases Hermione realized that she was well on her way towards the dungeons. She tried desperately to regain control over her body, but found that she could do no more than follow its lead as it sprinted down another set of stairs. Panic was starting to set in. Why was she running? And towards what? And what was it that frightened her so?

Hermione could feel a deep sense of fright; she was genuinely scared of something, terrified in fact. She knew, rationally that only a few things could have the same effect she was having now, and combined with the things that happened this morning, she was afraid she might only have few options as to where her problem was:

She knew it was not a blood related disease, nor a curse. As her entire family was muggleborn there was little risk she could have any curses kicking in anytime soon.

She was not pregnant, that was for sure; and while pregnant witches had been known to have outbursts of magic, they were nowhere near as powerful as the one she had experienced, and this would not explain the current events, Hermione thought, as her body took a sharp turn to the left and passed the potions classroom taking another turn she had never even seen before and continuing her wild run down a small hallway.

The only other option seemed to be that she had been chosen as a magical creatures destined mate. Mates had often been seen to receive nearly as powerful magic as their partner and it would certainly explain the running, as everyone knew the protective nature in both creature and mate, even subconsciously. However, having a mate would require at least for them to have physically touched for her to react like so, and then she would surely have known about it, right?

As she ran the Headgirl started to feel the strain on her legs and her lungs seemed to tighten with the pull when she took another turn and, without warning, slammed into a wall, bringing her to a complete and painful stop. She felt her shoulder take most of the hit with a sickening crunch but somehow this stopped mattering the second she laid eyes on the other figure lying unconscious on the ground by the wall, right next to where Hermione had been brought to her painful stop.

Immediately snapping into action but knowing she could use no magic, Hermione used her uninjured arm to check for a pulse on the figure and had to hold back a scream when she not only did not find one, but her hand came back covered in crimson blood, still warm enough to drip from her fingers. Knowing that she would have to at least perform CPR and stop the bleeding from wherever it was, Hermione ignored her own pain and used both arms, one of which she was sure was broken, to turn the boy over.

The blood seemed to be everywhere but she found no wounds on him as she turned him for a better view. She knew time was short and that she could time to heal later, now she needed him to regain a pulse. Only now, when she finally got to look at his face and noticed the silver hair, the angular jaw and the high cheekbones, she realized that she was staring directly into the face of Draco Malfoy.

A scream was heard in the Great Hall at breakfast time a Monday morning. A scream that, while loud enough to make every student and a few teachers wince in pain, seemed to originate further away than they should have been able to hear. The entire hall fell quiet for one, stunned moment, until Dumbledore seemed to realize what had happened and literally ran from his seat, followed shortly by Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. The silence that had fallen in the hall left with the teachers as the younger students panicked and everyone else was trying to guess what was going on. Nobody guessed right.

It took Hermione a few moments to realize that she was crying and clutching the body of her childhood enemy and when she did she honestly did not care to dwell on the thought. Distraught and in anguish she never noticed how her own hand raised upwards to where Malfoy's heart rested under her fingers. She did not hear the ancient words pouring from her own mouth in a steady stream and she never saw the lilac and silver lights that surrounded the two of them in a warm and healing cocoon. She did, however, feel the fluttering of Malfoy's heart and feel it return to normal as if it had always been there. And she did see, clear as day, when his eyes snapped open and looked into hers in a mixture of astonishment, shock and confusion.

Draco was confused. He was quite sure he had died. In fact, he was still not convinced he hadn't.

When he had felt the first hit from yet another group of hateful children from the war who had lost someone and blamed him for everything he was sure that this time would be the one to bring him down. His wand was kicked down the hall and he already felt wrong in a weird way, like his heart was trying to pull him somewhere. He was in no shape to defend himself.

Only when the assailants heard the sharp crack of a snapping bone after a hard kick to the spine, did they flee from fear of being caught. And at that time he had already been lost to the dark unconsciousness that was, it seemed, death. He had no way of knowing that he would wake up in the arms of none other than a crying Hermione Granger, with whom he was on shaky terms, at best, surrounded by purple and silver lights.

Why did his chest feel warm?

He should have thought about this, but instead he found himself lost in her amber eyes and the tears that fell in a steady stream from her face and onto his. Slowly, and without warning, she slumped against the wall, unconscious, and he followed her within the second with his head still in her lap and her hand on his heart.

A little down the hallway, three figures stepped out from the shadows and stared at the pair lying now passed out by each other.

"What in Merlins name is happening?" the smaller figure exclaimed, hurrying down toward the pair, who were still shining with the remains of silver light. "Dumbledore?" She looked back at him briefly when he stepped up to help, levitating the girl so that the boy could get checked for wounds. None were found.

"If I knew, dear Poppy, I would tell you, but it seems that even I cannot see everything that is happening to my students" He looked sad at the thought and stroked his long white beard thoughtfully.

"How are they doing?" Minerva asked tentatively as Pomfrey levitated Malfoy as well and allowed her to clean the blood of the tiles on the floor and walls with a quick Scourgify.

"I don't... There isn't a single scratch on either of them! Albus, how can this be? Even her scar has healed!" The nurse lifted Hermiones sleeve up to show a smooth arm with no trace of the once so ugly scar spelling the ugly word 'Mudblood', a present from Bellatrix LeStrange. "I know for a fact that that specific wound was made with a cursed blade, she should have never been able to get rid of that scar, not if she lived for a million years." Poppy was starting to sound hysterical so Minerva put an arm around her, calming her slightly.

"Albus," Minerva asked, "What does this mean?"

She received a resigned look but no answer, as Dumbledore simply started to move towards the hospital wing with a levitating Hermione in front of him.

The two women shared a worried look as they followed him, Malfoy slowly moving between them