A/n down below

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Beauty is Beast

Chapter Four

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October 4th, 1746

The Midnight Quartet of strings did not sound as it usually did. A simple disarming charm had been placed along the halls earlier that evening on their way to supper, ensuring them safe passage through their escapades of the holy night. The girls, led by the darkness, raised their wands cautiously against the deceptive nothingness that was their home, and treaded with caution. Beauxbatons was abnormally still; without its usual cheerfulness and utterance of words, it seemed almost lost as they waved their way through disarmingly dark holds. The halls, once lively with laughter and boisterous play, had grown cold, extinguishing all hope that was naturally preserved in the foundation of their beloved home. Not a single sound transgressed the Halls after the Twelfth hour, and though presumably thought to be the calmest time of the night, was wrought with loud noises, whispers, the sound of shuffling feet, and the soft glow of a blue torch emanating from a wand as it broke away from the dark.

Darkness received them with open arms. The trio journey down the darkening hallway of the manor, unaware of the trailing presence of an enemy as they commanded the night. Hermione kept a careful eye on her sisters, never once relinquishing the unbreakable gaze. As they walked, the skin of her exposed arms saluted to the coldness. The prickling feeling marched noticeably up her arms, across the expanse of her breast, and the nape of her neck. Stunned by the sudden drop in temperature, he paused long enough to take in the usually habitual surroundings of his home. Countless times in the past she has journeyed these abandoned halls like the transient soul of a graveyard. So, entangled with the darkness, she failed to notice that there had always been some sort of commander lurking shadow in the ranks of the night. Whatever it was, it provoked even Hermione's more irrational senses to avert its gaze, and ignore it until a more suitable time presented itself. Only then, she would indulge it and relinquish the thrashing hold he had on it.

As Hermione pulled away from the questionable surroundings, the girls turned an unexpected right, leading into a smaller section and hallway with only a single row of doors. Hardly unknowledgeable about the secret passageways of their school, seeing she was one of the ones to set them up much to his mother undying disapproval since she was prone to getting lost from time to time- he was surprised to find that he took this route to wherever his destination was. Being the sole contributor to the hidden hallways, the winding detours around the manor, only he could give permission to an outsider. She found it a little odd that he would know exactly when to turn, how to maneuver his way down these passageways without sounding an alarm. His permission even surpassed his father and mother substantially. Still, permission was permission. While their intentions were still unclear, it did not frighten or scare her in the least. She was determined to find out what he was doing in his home, where she was going, and who they were going to meet. -Edit this, ugh-

Whispers echoed down the deserted corridors, reverberating back the gripping silence.

Twilight fell rather quickly over the little village of Pyrenees, and during their journey, the girls watched as the men made the long way across the lawn from the windows, and into the secured sanctuary of their campsite, as they have been doing for months. A nasty hailstorm made a hast charge over their school. Before night dawned on them, Zeus' soldiers came to lay claim on the earth one more, trampling all warriors in the mud, and leaving behind the telling signs of the rough reprimandations of war. There, they heard the thunderous celebration and the raillery of another day gone. Ginny had the naughty idea to plant a listening device on one of the men, as she had feigned dizziness and tricked them into believing she may faint. Upon catching her, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked it inside his clothing. That was some months ago, and ever since they had captured every moment of their departure.

The men were interesting, to say the least. Even Hermione, one of the few girls with her head attached to her shoulders, and not in the clouds, began pleasantly surprised by their conversation. With only a handful of months guarding their secret, she has grown to enjoy exploiting the stone in which Ginny used to spy on them.

It was a first for her.

Throwing all reverie to the wind, Hermione focused on her coordination; she would not displease their Madam now with her atrocious steps, knowing that she could very well be watching and come to reprimand them for their bravery for treading the cursed halls of night. Hermione breathed out, watching the world pass in a mass of shadows to towering reaches; she has become lost in their treacherous arms before, having once found herself on the other side of the Unknown. Never in her dreams could she envision such astounding sights; their school truly did have many sides to its growing guises. She did not know which she preferred, having found another mask to adore, cementing the growing admiration of the world in which she lived.

"Oh, these blasted shoes!" hissed Hannah, trying to disguise her anguish.

"Shh!" someone called from behind the line. "We must not make a sound! Madam Maxime might be listening."

"That may be true… She did seem to be in one of her moods during class, as did Madam McGonagall."

"That is because Ginerva provoked her."

"Watch it," a hiss issued out.

Hermione inevitably ran into the body in front of her, nearly dropping her wand in the process. Huffing with aggravation, she straightened herself, only to find the face of her enemy through the pitch-black abyss. Ginerva had been perfectly clear with her instructions earlier that day; though, it was this sort of frantic foolery that worried her the most. Although skeptical, Hermione readily agreed for their meeting in their private room despite the grossing anxiety that something would ago amiss.

She had been slumbering peacefully in her chamber when the sound of giggles erupted like soft incantations outside of her room, rousing her from her deep slumber. Curious to see whom it may be, she snatched her wand from her nightstand, shuffled her bare feet into her slippers, before tucking on a chemise robe and walking to her door. Her long, curly hair had been braided by one of the girls an hour before she departed from their company, having given them the assumption that she wanted to read before retiring for the night. Little did she know, they were planning far more than met the eye. Once she opened the door, she was whisked away and rounded up with the other girls of Rouerie, and to their secret dwelling deep within the deceptive halls of Beauxbatons.

The girls passed a large Italian glassed window, which overlooked the gardens and the impressive preserve of mystic creatures, magicked by their Headmistress as to allow the Muggles to believe that nothing was out of the ordinary. They peeked through the window, admiring the vastness of their school grounds before ducking their heads down and running away, giggling. In a flurry of brightly colored, they escaped.

"Do forgive me," mumbled Tonks as she desperately tried to adjust her wand. The scorching light at the tip pierced the visible darkness, but did little to benefit their cause. Through the blinding light, Hermione was able to map out the precise location of their travels. Somehow, they landed somewhere in the middle of an opened hall, and if anyone were there to see them, they would have been caught red-handed.

"I do hope you are," came Hannah's dark remark, the slightest mention of hiss leaving her lips. "I shall not have you stepping on my feet again, Nymphadora!"

Tonks whipped around so quickly that her naturally-hue colored hair turned into the scorching shade of fire. Hermione held her breath, looking around anxiously before pulling on her elbow and whispering in her ear.

"Ladies, do behave yourself!" she pleaded with the girl, watching as her hair flared up violently, before the embers died down to a calm decrescendo. "Miss Hannah did not mean it, did you?"

The two girls turned to the dark-haired sister, reading her expression. A smile formed on her lips, and she quickly apologized for her daring outbreak.

"Do forgive me!"

Tonk's hair did not turn back to its natural shade, though Hermione found forgiveness in her eyes, and she took it as a sign to keep walking.

"You do have a way with wild animals," whispered Hannah, looking to Tonks passively, reading her aura as if it was a tangible proclamation of how the girl was feeling. "Creatures like her should not exist."

"Why, dear Fleur is one of those remarkable creatures." Hermione reminded her earnestly. "Should she not exist?"

"I-"

"I would consider you words more carefully from now on, Hannah." The brilliant girl said, her eyes growing dark. Hannah nodded, taking a step back without a single word. The girls pressed through the dark in utter silence.

Hermione pulled away from the girl, her words echoing disturbingly in the air, like a menacing apparition of truth shrouded in mystery. As long as she has known them, the girls were quick to criticize anyone of questionable lineage, including herself. Although it was quite the brooding mystery of where she came from, the memories of her past still held true; there were some things in this world she would like to delude herself that she would eventually forget, while other's will continue to have a lasting imprint on her journey through life. Whether good or bad, it ultimately shaped her into the witch she was today, and would continue to do so until her dying days.

Hermione only wished that some of the girls could see it through her eyes.

The truth could be destructive and awful. Hannah hardly seemed like the type to judge, but that didn't guarantee her acceptance of the concealed and hidden world in which Hermione lived. There were things that were not meant to be so easily ascertained or left vulnerable, and opened to public viewing. She knew from experience that most people in society are unforgiving, so critical, and relentless in their pursuit to strip someone of their identity and moral code. What identity they were able to procure for themselves were always questioned with such austerity, that sometimes the person learned to believe the lies and adopts some of those sacrilegious ideals. Not that she knew anyone who ever lost themselves in any of the deceitful, hateful words thrown at them, but it would not come as a surprise if someone in the world did. Hermione prayed that it never happened to her, after all she knew exactly what she was, what her parents were. There was no denying it.

The word resonated deeply within her as she said goodbye to Andrea. A small flourishing blossom of animosity and disgust had planted itself deep within her heart, growing steadily until she pushed those unbearable thoughts from her mind. She did not feel any less than a human knowing what she was because there just wasn't any shame. She didn't even have to accept herself for what she was even if others had a harder time adjusting the unpleasant truth. For years she's had to deal with it. Deal with the torment, the taunts, and the jeers; if it hadn't been the loyalty and the acceptance of her closest friends, she didn't know where she would have ended up. She had an inkling: lonely, afraid to go out in the world with the confidence of a young woman her age should possess. Not many could say that they held such high standards and morals like hers. That's a part of the reason she's never been with anyone other than Ron, which failed miserably, and proving once and for all that they were only meant to be friends, and nothing more. With a sigh, she contemplated exactly what she wanted in a man before all her thoughts were pulled into discourse and chaos.

There was no hiding it.

Even she, someone of great stature, was not all that she appeared.

"I meant no harm," Hannah breathed, joining Hermione as they marched graciously down the corridors, turning a right at the intersection. "I did not think anyone would take offense."

Hermione looked at the girl with consideration. "You may be under Ginerva's spell, but I will not tolerate you speaking ill of anyone precious to me."

"Speaking of precious persons, have you gotten word from the twins?"

"I do hope they are well," she whispered, treading carefully and sticking close to the girl next to her. It was a secret that she was slightly wary of the dark, something that she would do well to keep from the other girls for certain betrayal was imminent if they knew.

"To whom are you referring to?" inquired Nymphadora as she busied herself with the menial task of guiding the small group down the corridor. She, too, was under the surmise of sleep when there was a loud sound coming from her chamber door. Though, she was more inclined to listen to the hysteria that was her Housemate's voices, and almost fell back to sleep before another bout of raucous knocking came to her bedchamber door. Ginerva's haunting voice echoed in Hermione's mind, reminding her of just how powerful the witch's words could be. The two witches dropped their conversation of proper greetings, knowing that the other could easily figure it out.

"The Patil's." The courteous girl said simply. "I have grown to miss their presence. When do you think they will return?"

"If you seek an honest opinion…" started Hannah, but Tonks was quick to stop her.

With a smile, her hair turned into the pleasant shade of a young rose before she spoke softly. "I am certain they are enjoying their stay, and would want nothing more to come home." came her soothing reply.

The Patil sisters were currently visiting family in a remote village in Bangladesh, having received a letter a month earlier of their grandmother's sudden illness. They immediately dropped their courses, spoke to the Headmistress, and were granted a two-week employment to their home village to aid in the recovery of their relative. Through their stay, their owls sent word through a vertiginous ritual of letters, stating their personal effects and the state of their grandmother. They were expected to arrive back any day now, and Hermione, especially, was growing anxious for their return.

Hermione lifted her arm, watching as the light from her wand grow exceedingly brilliant. Astonished, she watched as the soft brilliance of her wand illuminated far more than her eyes could see. Even the other girls were impressed by its luminosity.

"Does Ginny plan to seek entrance into the Unknown?"

"I cannot say," Hermione obliged them with a reply. "I do hope she is not. The last time we tried to provoke the spirits, the awakening was quite rude."

"The repercussions would not be as dire…"

"I would like to see the light of day, sister." Hermione sighed, somehow being chosen to lead the group. "I do wonder which curtain would rise…"

"Are you speaking of the Pièce de désir?"

"Of course, what other palace would I be referring to?" Then, she paused. "Remind me again, which way is it?"

Just before someone could answer, a voice came to them like a purely premonition of Fate. There, just around the corner, an enemy was lurking. The girls quickly ducked behind a tapestry, inclining their heads as to allow them to listen to the retreating footsteps of their follower. A gasp issued from one of their lips, but before Hermione could ascertain who had broken the silence, someone spoke.

"C'est qui?"

"C'est tête de fille!"

"Shh!" Hermione whispered urgently.

"What is she doing out so late?" hissed Tonks, her hair transitioning into the exact color of tar. "Quickly, let us make our escape before she sees us!"

The girls, who hurriedly tried to conceal themselves behind the curtains, were now anxious to get away. Causing more harm than good, their voiced carried down the corridors, stopping short of where the mysterious figure stood. The girl's gently tore back the smooth material of the drapes and discovered something so unlike all the others.

Hermione held her breath as their Head of House elegantly stride down the hall and out of sight. Just as they were about to break away from the safety of the curtain, they were discovered.

"Where do you think you are going?" a voice called out to them. The girls turned, finding their executioner.

"Sister Eloise!" Hannah breathed, falling over her feet and grasping the unforgiving curtain to break her fall. Tonks was pulled down with her, Hermione soon following their disgraceful act. Eloise only stared at the girls as they struggled to stand and right themselves.

"What are you three doing out of bed?" she asked, narrowing her eyes. "I am sure you all know that is way past curfew."

"As we are aware," Tonks said bitterly, desperately trying to find a suitable excuse as to why they were roaming the halls this late at night.

"Well, what is your excuse this time, girls?"

Hannah and Tonks looked to Hermione for help. Their pleading eyes, as she has known all along, would be her undoing.

Quickly, she thought of a good remark to give their Head Girl. "We were… exploring. Right, girls?"

"Oh, yes," said Hannah hastily, nudging Tonks in the side.

"Exploring?" Eloise raised an elegant brow. "At this time of night? For what purpose?"

"For Madam McGonagall's lesson, of course." Hermione continued to lie. "She spoke of an endearing bit of information during our lesson with her that was most astounding, to say the least. As you may know, Eloise, the Florae is only weeks away, and we were only trying to watch them as they busied themselves with the chores of their season. They are quite mischievous, if you ask me. And, quite inclined to aid anyone who desires to watch and speak to them."

"The Florae are do not easily partake in pleasantries such as conversation." The girl quipped, not believing for a second that this was the reason they were up so late.

Hermione scoffed. "That is the true wisdom of someone who has never basked in their glorious light. Tell me, Eloise, are you troubled, or are you naturally this oblivious and unbelieving?"

"You insolent little-"Eloise raised her hand to slap her, but another came out and thwarted her attempt to do harm.

"Vat are you doing?" The French native asked, her eyes remaining the same impassive hue. "I vill not tolerate you causing harm to another."

"I…I was doing my rounds when I found these three, Fleur." Eloise said scathingly, turning to the beauty. "I am pleased that you are here. I just found some of the girls in your house out of bed!"

Fleur looked to Eloise before saying, "Zat does not give you ze right to stike another, sister Eloise." She paused as to allow her words to settled before speaking again. "I shall take care of zem. Go back to your rounds."

"But-"

"Zey are in my House, and under my care. It es my responsibility to ensure zar safe return. I shall speak to Ze Headmistress in ze morning of their exploration, and your horribly misuse of your powers. Go, before we all get caught!"

"Fleur, please reconsider!"

Fleur looked at her. Her eyes shined brilliantly, capturing the moonlight path exceptionally well. Eloise fell into a trance, her eyes growing wide as she found it difficult to breath. Seconds ticked by, and as quickly as the spell had been casted, the hold on her relented.

Eloise perked up, bid them farewell, and scurried away. The girls watched, stunned, at the retreating form of their Head of House. Tonks was the first to address the French native, crediting her feverishly with aiding in their cause.

"I do not suppose that is one of your Grand-mère's traits?"

"C'est," she said pleasantly. "Now, vill you tell me why you were out dis way?"

"We got lost!"

"Ginerva has spoken to me. Ze meeting is tonight, non?"

"Is Miss Ginerva already there?" Hannah asked, bouncing. "Oh! If Eloise had not distracted us! I was not thinking of the room at all."

"Shall we go around three more times?" suggested Tonks.

"Zat will not be necessary." Fleur motioned them to follow her, having found a way to their destination. "Et will be my third time. Follow me."

The girls were quick to form a strong line behind their leader.

"Oh, I thought she would never leave!"

"Quickly, before she comes back!"

The girls hurried from their spot, ran down the corridor, and into the adjoining one before coming to a fall halt in front a lovely portrait of a woman and her daughter. Slowly their pace, they all let out hearty sighs. Just when they thought they were safe, the sound of galloping footsteps echoed down the hall.

Fleur listened for a moment, before telling them, "Remember, Rêve, et tu recevras." She turned, and led them quietly down the corridor.

The chariot that guided them came with poor reception; the girls did not conceal the detest for such escorts, only having discovered the equally deplorable roads in which they travelled. Tall doors, isolated venues, and fascinating sculptures could not bring them to understand, or even gawk at the wonders that this world provoked. It was only in the giving nature of their beloved room that they were able to allow such imaginary revolution to blossom, and it was only then they were able to conduct in the extraordinary nature in which was presented to them. The girl's held their tongues, hoping that the gem in which they sought would still before there for their taking. As they walked, something alerted their attention. This time, the energy of their guest did not warrant a reprieve.

Hermione could not make out a clear picture of the individual, though she was inclined to believe that their presence was not welcomed. Her eyes flickered to the many portraits; they had woken from their nightly ritual of sleep, finding their own exploration of the castle unbinding and as it was curious. Feeding off her own unusual energy for the peculiar, Hermione motioned to her sisters to follow her, having been driven and coaxed by an otherworldly deity to investigate.

"Do you think it is wise?" Hannah asked. "Ginny will be expecting us soon. I did tell her we would not be late."

"I believe they are going in the direction in which our room lies," Hermione told them. "And, what better way to start the night then this? Come, girls. We shall make haste across the halls of our school, and find what it is that they are searching for."

"What if they intend to find our treasured room?"

"Then, we shall stun them."

Hannah's demeanor, she noticed then, had changed dramatically. No longer did she have a blithe vibe about her. The normally conversational young woman had been replaced with someone of mourning. A former replica of herself, Hannah walked with her eyebrows strung together in deep thought, her eyes solely fixated on the tremendous apprehension that was now being passed around the girls like candy. Hatred ignited like a sweet cinnabar of fire in her hazel eyes, but there was something different about them as well. Like a veil or a curtain consisting of a thick, heavy material, it obscured the light that just minutes ago had shown so brightly. Somehow, they had lost their luminance, leaving nothing but an atramentous cloud to absorb the light within her eyes.

In the ephemeral moment when they crossed the threshold of the temporary lake of hellfire, Hermione's entire world had crashed down upon her. Tonks and Hannah did not look as if they desired to follow whomever was treading the corridors at this late hour. Not having the critical time to reflect, to cool herself off as she usually did, Hermione's temper began to flare like that of the sun on its most temperamental moment. Balling her hands into fists, she listened as the unknown intruders attempted to heave themselves into a standing position, but without luck. Not even the strained groan coming from their lips, the bruising the was sure to form around his throat, nor the punishment he was going to get after his attendance with their Headmistress could not appease the girls; intrudes, simply, were not welcomed here. With a rapacious sigh, Hermione removed herself from their hiding spot, walking arrogantly down the long corridor of their school, and away from the safety that would invoke her attention.

"We must see where they are going," Hermione finally told them. "It is our duty!"

"Ginerva will be so displeased…" begged Hannah wishfully, staying close to Hermione. "If she were to find out…"

"Is it too late to turn back?"

"She will not find out." Hermione hissed. "It will be our little secret. Besides, do you not want to find out where they are going?"

"And, risk getting caught? No thank you, sister. I would rather tread back and seek sanctuary elsewhere."

"You two do not have a single courageous bone in your bodies." The girl sighed. "Come on. I shall face the consequences if they should arise."

"Ginny was right about her…. She is quite peculiar," whispered Tonks.

How dare she speak to her in such a way! Even if they were nothing more than sworn enemies thanks to fate's cruel, perverse joke, she expected Ginny to show some level of respect towards her, even if she was not there to receive it. How dare she even utter that disgusting word in her presence! Had they no shame? Apparently not, Hermione thought scathingly. Ginny had been in the same ship as her. She's had to deal with the same exact thing she was going through with now: an extraordinary sense of displacement that resided in the rivaling heart that was opposite of her own. There was something so unattainable and deliciously decadent that she could only fantasize the taste of freedom, the sound of belonging, and the unspoken words that would never be said to one another. A dark, forbidden fantasy or realty neither of them could indulge in. Unlike Ginny, whose cowardliness was unrivaled even by someone whose deepest fear was spiders had not pushed beyond the boundaries of her dreams, testing them until the iron fence weakened, and she was able to push through triumphantly had not achieved what she had: indulging in her fantasy. Years Ginny has wasted away, missing chance after chance until the final one crept up on her, and the unforeseeable end embraced the muse she loved. Had she expressed it earlier, would she have obtained her dream? Hermione wondered briefly, until her own needs demanded her attention.

Maybe, they were not as close as she initially thought. Ginerva had done nothing to strengthen their relationship, and neither did she. But, unlike her counterpart in their endless attempt for acceptance, Hermione had done something differently. She had not tried to show-off in front of her because she was not that impressionable, and the situation just would not allow such a foolish attempt at peacocking. Instead, she stayed in the background, watching her, protecting her, standing up for her, until she soothed whatever demon that resided inside of her, so she could sleep better at night. Knowing that she did that for her beloved means, and for once she felt truly happy.

If they only knew, she thought miserable as they came to the end of the corridor, turned left and kept walking. The anger was still at an elevated rate, but as Hermione continued down the path toward west wing of the school, her thoughts turned abruptly to a conversation almost lost to the dwellings churning within. She just could not stop her mind form gravitating once again to the outrageous news. Even with the acclamation of Gideon Flatworthy's raids across Britain and the destruction of their world's creation, the looming presence of something dark, and the spark of anger that licked her like flames, she still found some tranquility while treading the halls in the heart of night.

It was then after thinking about him that she came to a starling conclusion.

The world in which they lived was not all that it seemed. They were treading in dark times; people had grown wary, almost frantic, and the only spoilable source of protection came from the inconceivable notion that true evil existed, even in the most damnable of times. Discovering yet another surprising display occurring just beyond her reach, Hermione called wordlessly to her wand, preparing herself for the words.

"I do not what it is that you saw, Hermione, but it is best that we head back."

"Come, Hannah," cooed the girl gently. "It would only take a-"

"Shh!" Tonks implored.

Several men stood clustered together in a tight embrace, each whispering frantically to each other just down the corridor. Tucking as close as they could to the walls, the girls watched and listened for any other signs of treachery. Low, hushed rumbles reverberated oddly against their bodies as two of them departed the group, walking away from the last remaining man, who stood with his hands in his pressed trousers, his eyes fixated down the hall, took flight in the opposite direction. Weaving her eyebrows together, Hermione backed away long enough to watch as the man pressed his left palm against the surface of the deep crimson oak door. A string of unfamiliar incantations swirled around the room in a visual display of deep purple, dark gray, and black. Whatever he had been whispering underneath his breath was brought to a terribly crescendo as the cloudy of dark magic penetrated the strong wood, causing a large crack to form from the top of the door before the magic seeped into the cut as well, sealing it. Hermione watch in languor, but slight intrigue as the man finished whatever humorous prank he was trying to pull. He surmised a grin, watching as the Dark Magic evaporated into thin air, leaving the door to his study seemingly untouched.

The man walked away seconds after catching it. After a moments delay, Hermione decided to follow him, not bothering to ensure that her sisters were following her.

Silencing the sound of her steps, she quickly hurried down the hall. Seconds later, she found that he stopped at another door, this time making quick work of the doorknob as if to enter.

Hermione, just as the doors were about to close on her, dispelled a larger amount of magic, willing it to surround the entire room in a hue of dark purple. Since she knew it would be too tempting and dangerous to go into the room and take a seat on one of the lounge chairs, she let the door slam softly behind the man, knowing that the emblem placed on him would ensure her observation. Quietly, she felt his magic envelope the room, stretching across the span of the small study until almost every corner was covered in an iridescent glow. As soon as it was, she urged her magic to vanish. Now, she would be able to see and hear everything that went on inside the room. Hermione closed her eyes, tuning into the familiar expanse of their Madam's study. Within seconds, she was brought into the room, her senses merging away from mute world where her body stood with a veil of magic protecting her and into the room where their Madam would have sat if she were there. She looked up just as the door closed softly behind the unwanted guest.

"I assume that it all went well?" he asked, raising a finely shaped eyebrow. He was shallowly old man with greying hair.

His guest smiled. "Of course," he relayed the good news. "I performed the spell exactly as you instructed."

"Excellent," he leaned back in his cushioned chair, and exhaling sharply before gathering himself and stood up. "Did anyone follow you?" the man asked as he ventured over longue chairs in the middle of the room. He signaled for him to sit down. As the man walked over to the sitting area in front of the massive desk, the man took his wand out of his walking cane, flicked it once, aiming it towards the other side of the room. The man sat, watching as two glasses, a bottle of brandy, and a bucket of ice came hurtling towards them. With a wry grin, he accepted the offered drink.

"No one, my lord," he replied with a smile. He brought his glass to his lips and took a sip of the warm liquid before setting in on the table in front of him. "I was very discreet with my maneuvers. I never suspected that there would be so many unused passageways inside the school."

The mysterious man's jaw tightened. "Yes, well, I assume that is the doing of the Headmistress. It seems the days of childish behaviors have long since stopped. I am surprised to hear that some of the secret passageways are still being used. Did you have trouble finding the study? Have you indulged in any sort of company with her? She is quite the firecracker, and some of her girls are not without blame."

He nodded, "Yes, I got lost several times, I admit." He leaned back in his chair, taking in the room momentarily before his eyes trailed back to the man of the manor. "You never said the Madam had a taste for exploration. Care to expand on that idea?"

It appeared that he did not want to speak of all the pranks the Madam performed during his more youthful, more playful years. "He had always been an adventurous woman." He said painfully, his heart throbbing inside his chest. He did not want to speak ill of the Headmistress. "She invited me to stay as to allow the school to be blessed. I cannot say if it will ensure the safety of the school, or the girls. But, how could I deny an old friend that peace of mind?"

"Is that why you called me out here?"

The man nodded soberly. "It is not within my nature to care for others, but with the uprising, I cannot rightfully justify the complete abandonment of my peers."

"Is that what happened?"

"Indeed," the man whispered. "These are dark times that we live in. My only condolence is that I fear that it will be the end of all that we cherish."

"That does not sound like a man that has given up hope." The man leaned over, picked up an olive that was in one of the many crystal bowls that was displayed pleasingly before him. He sat up, giving him a look that he interpreted as ''there is more.'

"As you know, Gideon's platoons have seized the neighboring villages near the mountains in Italy. I suspect, in the coming months, his charity will have gained valuable resources and contributors. You know, the King of England is calling for an all-out war if Gideon's efforts to cleanse the Wizarding World is not thwarted? Some even surmise to say that he is conspiring with him, but all those have proven to be just rumors."

"But, what if they are not?" asked the man, the air between them growing heady with each passing moment. The two men stared at one another, immersed by the notion that the King of England could be in alliance with Gideon. If it were true, then he would face not only the calamity of a World War, but the questionable notion of his alliances as it lied elsewhere. No one had ever dared suspected that the crazed man's forces had travelled that far since his last announcement in the Prophet some months ago. The Royals have done away with the anarchy once before, and whose to say they cannot find a way to do it again?

These were dark times, indeed.

Only dominated by the implications of one's beliefs, Hermione did not think they stood a chance at defeating Gideon's advances, no matter how thought-out they were. It was painfully obvious by her observation of the matter that their Madam was keeping more than she would admit from them. Hermione's eyebrow wove together. It truly hurt her that she could not find it in her heart to trust them. It made her that more determined to fight. Any governing person would stand and fight, and Hermione knew that it took more than the courage bestowed to them to want to do just that. Though, it looked what Gideon was doing was unethical, it was the same exact treatment the World has been given for thousands of years. Why skip tradition, she may have suspected if the situation was not so dire. Even these men knew what he had done was completely and irrefutably wrong. What he made his followers go through was nothing compared to what he would have done if the World had not been so compelled to fight. It could not be conquered; they had tried desperately to stop him from harming their loved ones only to have some unknown pain sweep over them as if some unseen force was ripping apart their souls from their bodies, and their heart from their chests.

All Hermione knew was that Gideon had been forced to do something so unforgiveable, something no one deserved to undergo. She remembered as vividly as the day he did it the tortured looked that encompassed the group once the news of the deceased came to be known. No one dared speak, or even rise to the occasion of exacting revenge. The walls were carelessly listening; the corridors were strewn with silence previously unbeknownst to them that, once Hermione found the heart to question it, she was faced with nothing but heartache herself, for it had been the parents she would never know that perished during the climax of Gideon's reign. Hermione had given him, the blood of her innocence spilling from the deep lacerations on her body, and for a split second, she was able to feel what all the Fallen had felt. The blood thirsty beast had been so dishonorably wanton for it. Hermione had never been so sickened, so repulsed by the cursed being that resided dormant inside. No matter how hard she fought, the dark spell would sweep over her administrating harsher punishments, more pain, and torture until it got her to do what it asked and begged for. And when he did, it still did not halt its torture. Hermione had fought alongside them, and in return, was punished when she tried to deviate in return.

No one could defeat even the deepest of urges tainting his soul. This- curse, this- thing would not allow for it to happen. The more they talked, the more she was punished by the deplorable thoughts of the Unknown. Eventually, she allowed whatever demented thing that resided so naturally inside the hearts of many to take control of her, thinking that her total obedience would earn some leniency

In that instant, she became utterly sick.

Hermione pulled away from the scene too quickly for her liking, and the scene spiraled uncontrollably for a few seconds before settling on the dimly lit corridor. Someone was calling for her. In the distance, she could just make out the terror in which her little spell caused. As she tried to obtain some sort of normalcy, her head began to throb. She began more warped by the idea that someone was trying to harm them, and it was only intensified by the very suspicious spell placed on their door. She had every right to feel that way. Their own Headmistress was planning on deluding them. In the moments of her illness, she was unable to find the answers she was searching for. As she became one with his body a burning sensation ignited. The kindling licks of scorching heat travelled down her head, up her feet, immigrating to one isolated are of her arm to the entirety of her body. The intolerable heat began to eat away at her flesh, veins, and bone. Gripping her head, Hermione urged for it to go away, fighting it with all her strength. As she did, the blistering heat began to grow until some unexpected happened. She was burning. She did not like the way the flames caressed his skin, the way it licked her flesh so passionately and with affection she had never felt. Eager for it to stop, she continued to fight it.

She looked to her sisters, and confirmed her mounting guilt.

The flames were consuming them all.

Author's Notes: *Peeks from behind the curtain of 2017*

I do hope y'all aren't to terribly mad at me! But, Happy New Year! I haven't abandoned this work quite yet (Not that I was going to, anyway). One of my New Year's Resolutions is to finish some of my works. I'm not certain how long this one will be, but Fated to be Ours is on that list, as well as several others!

Anyway, if you don't mind, will you tell me your thoughts on this chapter? *bats eyelashes* I would make my day! :)

As always, enjoy

-Carolare Scarletus

Important Notes:

Grand-mère's: Grandmother's

C'est: It is

Non: No

Rêve, et tu recevras : Dream, and you shall recieve.

tête de fille : Head Girl (More or less)

Future Events/ Things to Follow : The Room of Desire Hermione tells the girls what transpired in this chapter while under the influence of her magic and the girls contemplate what war would mean for them.

Sir Cormac McLaggen tries to court Hermione, inviting her to the festival held every year in the village.