CHAPTER FOUR

HPOV

He is watching me as I arrive at the top of the stairs, the gown swishing about my feet. Cream chiffon floats to the floor, my feet encased in gold strappy sandals and a red velvet sash at my waist. He is swallowing hard, as he drinks me in with those blue eyes. When his hand reaches out to me, it is trembling slightly.

"Blimey, Hermione," he mumbles. "You look gorgeous."

"You don't look so bad yourself, Ronald," I reply, taking in his new dress robes, bought for him just days earlier as his Christmas gift from Harry, Ginny and I. We all knew how embarrassed he had been about the old ones and wanted for him to have something new. His gaze softens and he leans forwards, so that our noses touch.

"Love you 'Mione," he murmurs, softly. At moments like this he is not a bumbling buffoon; he is just perfect. Few people see this side of Ron; the side that is warm, passionate and loving. He prefers for people to think he is some sort of idiot, though the truth is a far stretch from that assumption. He once told me that all the time people assumed he was a fool he remained several steps in front of them. There was some truth in this. Now he leads me trough the double doors into the hall, where the ceiling is alight with thousands of candles and the Christmas tree fills up one corner with an array of beautifully wrapped gifts glistening in golds, reds, greens, purples and other bright colours.

"It looks so beautiful," I say. Ron smiles down at me and then leans in to kiss my cheek, before pointing across to the dance floor where Harry and Ginny are already dancing.

"Do Christmases get any better than this, Hermione?" he asks, softly.

"No," I say, as his hand spreads across the small of my back, pressing me close to him. "I don't think they do. I wish we could stay this way forever." My head leans against his chest and I inhale deeply his scent; a masculine yet sweet scent which is entirely Ron.

"We'll always be this way, 'Mione. I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Good," I say, snuggling closer against him, so that our bodies are pressed together. "I love you too much to let you go."

"I love you too much to let you go," I murmured, my fingers reaching across to touch his image in the photograph that I had hidden in the drawer beside my bed. I could not bear to have any pictures in my room now, preferring the almost clinical, impersonal space I had created here. And then, almost wishing to pour salt into the wound, I took out the picture of the four of us at the Yule ball, all of us smiling and waving at the camera, as Colin Creevey snapped the shot for us. I could still remember it as clearly as if it had been yesterday. Now Colin was dead, Ginny was dead and Ron... Ron was dead too.

As for Harry, I could not bring myself to think about him. Because he might as well be dead to me.

Flopping back on the pillows of my bed, I shoved the picture back in the drawer slamming it shut with an angry sigh. Sleep did not return though as I felt myself becoming more and more agitated about the Martyr dream and more importantly the memory of feeling so loved. I doubted I would ever have that again.

I must have finally dozed back to sleep because I woke to an empty apartment, with a note from Bella to say she had a lecture first thing; Occlumency. Luckily I had no lectures today, which was as well because my head felt like it might explode. After a shower and some breakfast though I felt a lot more human and had more or less decided to head down to the library to do some studying, when there was a knock at the door.

A feeling of trepidation wound its way into my stomach and I gripped my wand tightly in my hand as I approached the door; almost feeling the malevolency through the wood. As it opened though, I forced myself to relax, because it was a professor standing on the threshold.

"Miss Granger," he greeted.

"Professor Malfoy," I said, politely. Caius Malfoy was Lucius Malfoy's older brother and had disappeared decades earlier, but it turned out he had gone to the Volturi University in Italy and had been a professor for a number of years. He specialised in New Magic (not to be confused with New Age Magic!). This meant a lot of what he did was experimental and with a shiver I realised why he was here even before he told me.

"I do so love it when the light of comprehension dawns without my having to say a word," he murmured, reaching across to touch my cheek in an intimate gesture which made me recoil. A small smile graced his lips for a moment before giving way to a hardened glare. "Do not be late, Miss Granger. Tonight is very important." He half turned as if to leave, but then whirled round again, suspicion in his eyes. "Have you dreamed of him yet?"

"Dreamed of who?" I asked, carefully keeping my tone of voice neutral.

"Weasley. Have you dreamed of him?"

My heart lurched into my mouth, but I swallowed hard and shook my head.

"I would love to be able to say yes, but it seems Ron is as dead in my dreams as he is in the real world," I replied. Caius narrowed his eyes, a look of distrust briefly flashing across his normally stony face, but it was quickly replaced with complete disinterest.

"Of course," he finally said. "Until tonight then, Miss Granger. I am particularly excited as we have found a Pureblood willing to be a match for you."

At this my ears pricked up a little.

"Really? Who?" I asked.

"Now that would be telling and I would so hate to spoil the surprise. Be sure to keep this to yourself. I will see you tonight." As I closed the door behind him, my mind whirled. A Pureblood willing to be a part of his experiments was indeed curious. Though the war had brought about many changes on the surface as related to Purebloods and those of mixed heritage such as myself, beneath there was still an undercurrent of suspicion and prejudice. Standing in the kitchen, I leaned against the worktop and sipped my tea, thinking back to the day when the professors arrived from the Volturi University in Italy to take over posts here at Hogwarts, which had been vacated due to the war for varying reasons. There were three of them, all brilliant academics, who had lived their lives in study, excelling in each of their fields, though these fields seemed a little dubious to me initially.

Professor Caius Malfoy was the brother of Lucius Malfoy, which had immediately caused me some suspicion on his arrival as the Malfoy family name was notorious for all the wrong reasons. With his shoulder length white-blonde hair and grey eyes he resembled his brother quite closely and the first time he engaged me in conversation I found myself on edge the whole time, as uncomfortable memories of Lucius pounded my head. Not to mention others whom I preferred not to think of. He was a professor of New Magic, a new breed of almost scientific magic which borrowed from Muggle Science many of the traits of its study. Neville had signed up immediately as there was a very intense module based around Herbology that he was interested in and he persuaded me to join him. Initially there had not been many takers for the course and Neville and I had basically shared the lecture hall with Caius and three other students who had slumped in out of morbid curiosity I felt, related more to the fact he was the famous missing Malfoy than because of the subject we would study.

Professor Marcus Volterra was one of the founding professors of the Volturi University and very gifted in a number of fields, but he had sparked controversy as soon as he arrived when he offered Necromancy as a field of study. The Ministry had questioned its validity and whether in fact it was a Dark Art, but Marcus had managed to charm them into his way of thinking. He saw Necromancy as a means of communicating with the dearly departed in a peaceful way, rather than as a means of waking the dead and having them walk the Earth again.

"After all, Minister, we are not savages seeking to resurrect zombies, are we?" he had said lightly. The Ministry had allowed him to continue with the lectures, but only with suitable candidates and with strict guidelines on what was acceptable and what was not. It was rumoured that Marcus had first started Necromancy as a field of study following the untimely death of his wife, Didyme whom it was well known he still grieved for deeply. It had surprised me to find Marcus most sympathetic to his students, particularly those who had been involved in the war and lost someone. It had been Marcus that set up the memorial on the way to the library, which had been opened by the Minister for Magic and had somewhat ingratiated him with the Ministry.

I still found him somewhat sinister though. And it pained me that his was the only lecture Harry and I both attended, sitting at opposite ends of the lecture theatre, carefully avoiding any eye contact.

And last was the newly appointed Dean of the University, Aro Volterra, the older brother of Marcus, whose studies were more common. He had majored in the History of Magic, Transfiguration and Occlumency. Though now of course he did very few lectures, instead seeing to the running of the University here while still checking up on his own university in Italy. We rarely saw him and when he did appear he was sometimes a little too familiar; a little too friendly. Aro made me more uncomfortable than any of the Volturi professors and I was almost relieved he was rarely in the university.

With a shiver, I sipped my tea and then wrinkled my nose in distaste; the tea was stone cold. I must have been daydreaming for longer than I thought. Withdrawing my wand, I warmed it to just the right temperature and drank it in gulps before deciding it was time to go to the library.

The corridors were fairly deserted as most students would be in lectures and those not in lectures most likely had headed into Hogsmeade as it was beautiful outside. The sun was beaming down and it was an uncharacteristically warm day. With a sigh I paused in front of the Weasley picture; something I generally avoided during the day. Ron was standing slightly to the left today, one arm slung around Ginny's shoulders, as she grimaced at him and a sad smile touched my lips briefly. He had always been embracing his younger sister, who would shove him off, because nine times out of ten he would tickle or pinch her to provoke a reaction from the fiery girl. But it was always done in fun; there was never any malice in Ron. Not towards those he loved anyway I reflected a little bitterly.

"I'm surprised you can look at that." The voice behind me was tainted with bitterness. I closed my eyes, letting his anger wash over me, almost a balm to the terrible guilt that steadily engulfed me.

"I loved him," I replied, quietly. "And I loved you as well."

"You had a funny way of showing it," he replied. Forcing myself to turn so that I faced him, I allowed my eyes to move up from his broad chest to find his lips, pursed in anger and his green eyes, a storm of discontent behind his round glasses. The all too familiar scar emblazed on his head peeked through from the fringe which had grown to flop over his eyes. Catching me staring he growled faintly and half-turned to walk away.

"I thought you loved me once," I said, suddenly. Harry looked back at me and I saw confusion in his eyes for a brief moment before he carefully disguised it once again with hurt and anger. "But love requires forgiveness, Harry. I forgave you; why can't you forgive me."

Suddenly he lunged towards me, so fast that I nearly tripped over my feet trying to avoid him and my back hit the wall.

"What I did was wrong, but it was fuelled by grief and love. And I apologised. You have never apologised; you don't even seem to see that it was wrong! Don't you dare try and play the guilt card on me, Hermione! Just remember, I know exactly what you did!"

My hands reached out to push against his chest and I was surprised to find tears burning in my eyes, and I whimpered softly. As I reached towards him tremulously, Harry stepped back, running a hand through his hair, a look of guilt flashing in his eyes

"I didn't mean to scare you," he said, a little curtly and then he turned on his heel and walked away. But his words brought a slight tremor of hope; it was the first time in eighteen months he had shown me anything even resembling concern.

The corridor was empty as I tiptoed out and down to the lecture halls. The Experimental Wing glowed faintly with a strange multi-coloured light, the primary colour of which was green to my distaste. Professor Caius was waiting outside the room and he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I felt it only fair to warn you, Miss Granger, that the Pureblood who has agreed to do this for us is someone known to you," he started to say.

"It's fine," I interrupted, quickly. "Can we please just get this over with?"

Caius gave me an almost sympathetic look.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, suddenly. Surprised by the question I looked up at him and shrugged.

"It's not a physical pain as such," I replied. "More of a sort of draining feeling, as if my life is being sucked from me."

"Just think how it could change things for the wizarding world though, Hermione!" he cried, excitedly. "We could prove once and for all that blood really does relate to magical ability and those whose blood inhibits their magic... well they would soon find that they could become more powerful; more capable of wielding magic beyond their dreams..."

I barely listened to him; Professor Caius often got carried away in excitement before we entered the Measuring Room. This blood experiment was highly secret and in a climate of unity highly controversial. In truth I only agreed to it because after the first time, when I had been more or less forced to take part, I had found that the bloodletting gave me an agony that took away some of the grief that the war had left behind.

The door to the Measuring Room opened and Professor Caius entered first, turning to me his whole face alight with excitement, as he gestured towards a figure standing in the shadows of the room.

"Let me introduce you to your Pureblood match," he said. I stepped back, a hand over my mouth as I met a pair of silver-grey eyes I had thought to never look on again.

"Granger," he drawled. "What a pleasure to see you again."