Thank you for all the lovely reviews! Keep them coming! (The song at the beginning is from the film "Tangled," and it inspired the last scene in this chapter. It's a beautiful tune)

VVVVV

All those days

Watching from the windows

All those years

Outside looking in

All that time

Never even knowing

Just how blind I've been

Now I'm here

Blinking in the starlight

Now I'm here

Suddenly I see

Standing here

It's oh so clear

I'm where I'm meant to be

And at last, I see the light

And it's like the fog has lifted

And at last I see the light

And it's like the sky is new

And it's warm and real and bright

And the world has somehow shifted…

All at once

Everything looks different

Now that I see you

"I See the Light,"-Tangled

VVVVVV

DRACO

I heard her get up. But by the time I had managed to shake myself awake enough to open my eyes and look around, I was alone.

I shot to my feet. Where had she gone now? Was she trying to get herself killed?

"I swear," I muttered, closing my hands into fists. "If she gets lost out there again, I'm not—"

I heard a voice. It was far away, and muffled by that fog, but a human voice nonetheless. And it was one that I recognized. Calling a name I knew.

"Hermione! Hermione, where are you?"

It was Potter.

I lunged to the willow curtain and pushed it out of the way. I saw nothing but that thick mist.

Potter shouted again.

"Hermione?"

And then—

"Hermione, are you there?"

That was Weasley.

We'd been found.

I crashed through the willow curtain and out into the shadowed barley, racing toward the sound of the voices. I knew there would be a time, after I was out of the Room, that I would scowl at myself for running toward Potter and Weasley, but right now, I did not care one iota who it was that had found the door. All I knew was that I wanted out.

I knocked through the tall grass and the mist, barreling almost blindly straight toward the sounds of the shouting. Luckily, the voices kept up, getting louder and nearer—although I couldn't always distinguish what they said. And then I heard an answer.

"I'm here! Harry! Ron! Draco and I are here!" Her voice was filled with desperate relief, and echoed over the field. She was ahead of me, and somewhere off to my right. I turned, and headed toward her, though I didn't slow my pace. The fog thickened. I kept going.

But then…

"Hermione, look out! Don't come any closer!" Potter cried, from somewhere out in the darkness.

"Stop, Hermione!" Weasley pleaded. "It's a trap!"

And all of a sudden, the fog cleared, and I was running through the forest. I skidded to a halt, panting.

"No," I gasped. "No, no, no…"

Movement off to my right caught my eye. I spun. Hermione, hair flying, raced past me through the trees, down into a small clearing—

Where Potter and Weasley sat on the ground, back to back, wrapped tightly with black rope. They had bruises on their faces, and Weasley's lip bled. Hermione let out a cry.

"What happened to you? How did you get in here?"

"Hermione, there's no time to explain," Potter gasped, trying to lean toward her, his green eyes bright with urgency. "Get out of here. Now. Do it, Hermione—get out of here!"

"I can't leave you here!" She lunged toward them, reaching for the ropes.

"Crucio!"

An invisible fist hit her in the chest, and she flew backward, then writhed, screaming. Weasley and Potter lost it—kicking and wrenching on their bindings.

I started forward. I had no idea what I was going to do, or what was happening, but—

I frowned, and glanced down. My feet and legs were working, but I wasn't moving. My heart began to pound. I reached out to grab a tree to pull myself forward—I couldn't stretch far enough. I couldn't move forward at all.

"Come on, come on," I said, my voice rising. "Come on—no!"

Hermione's screaming stopped, and turned into choked crying. I stilled, and looked up. I went cold.

Striding toward the clearing was a shadow. Tall, taking smooth, silent steps, it swept forward, its cloak whispering behind. It bore a slender walking-stick in its right hand. I knew that figure anywhere.

It was my father.

Hermione lifted her head and saw him coming. She scrambled, trying to get to her feet. Potter and Weasley wrestled with the ropes and shouted at her to stand up and run. My chest locked up, and my hand fluttered toward my heart.

And then a shaft of light from above the leafless trees cut through. And the figure walked right through it.

It wasn't my father.

It was me.

I jolted hard. My mirror image was as tall and broad-shouldered as I was, but my black cloak trailed on the ground behind me, and my face and hair looked deathly white. But it was my eyes that turned me to ice. They were black.

That other version of me, the one who moved with the grace of a snake, halted just on the other side of Potter and Weasley. He smiled. It twisted his face.

"Hello, Granger."

Hermione screamed. It slammed into me. I'd never heard a sound like that before—not even when she was being attacked by the snakes. It was anguish mixed with terror—and helpless, stark horror, straight from the deepest part of her.

But it was only me. It was a replica, but it was me. My eyes fixed on her as confusion filled me. She had gone pale as snow, and she was looking at me as if she was looking Death in the face.

She clawed her way backward until her shoulders slammed into a tree, her eyes wide. The other me laughed out loud, as if something was funny. He shook his head.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this?" he said. "To get all three of you here, alone, where nobody knows where you've disappeared to?"

"Leave her alone, Malfoy!" Weasley commanded, twisting to try to kick that dark version of me. My black-eyed self slapped Weasley in the face so fast I almost didn't see it. The strike rang through the woods.

"Stop!" Hermione tried, tears starting. "Stop, don't hurt him—"

The other me flashed his eyebrows at her.

"Oh, don't worry—he won't feel anything." Then, he swung around, his cloak slithering, and pressed his wand tip to Weasley's chest. He inclined his head to Weasley, and half smiled.

"Avada kedavra."

Green lightning enveloped Weasley's whole body. And then he slumped, his eyes blank.

Potter howled—it was like someone had wrenched out one of his ribs. Hermione leaped to her feet only to crash to her knees and wail Weasley's name.

I blinked. This wasn't real. None of it was! Couldn't she see that?

"Granger," I said. Then I raised my voice. "Granger, don't…"

But nobody acknowledged me. It was like I was invisible again.

"Stop, stop!" Hermione begged, hysterical. "Please—don't hurt Harry—what do you want? Tell me what you want—I'll give you whatever you want—"

"But you already have!" my dark self chuckled. "Can't you see that? I led you into this room and just bided my time until your two brainless friends tumbled in after you." My black-eyed clone put away his wand and pulled a long knife out of the folds of his robe.

Oh, no—no, she couldn't see this. Even if it wasn't real—I refused to watch this—

"Stop it, you cretin," I bellowed. "I don't know what the blazes you are, but don't you dare do anything—"

"No!" Hermione shrieked. "No, don't!"

"After all these years, after all the misery you three have caused me," my black-robed self said, as he grabbed hold of Potter's hair with his right hand. "The only worry I have left is whether or not to leave my expensive knife between his ribs, or take the trouble to clean off his filthy blood." And then that specter that looked like me plunged that blade straight into Potter's heart.

Hermione fell on her face, crying and keening uncontrollably.

"Hermione!" I roared, fighting to catch even a bit of traction. "Hermione—blast it!"

Potter choked on his blood and fell sideways, taking Weasley with him. They collapsed onto the ground. My dark clone left the knife where it was and turned slowly toward Hermione. His eyes were the blackest I'd ever seen—carrying hatred colder and fiercer than even my father. He prowled toward her, lowering his head, pinning her where she lay with his icy gaze.

I went still, stunned. Was this what I was in her mind? Did she truly believe this was me?

"This is nonsense!" I bellowed, still too far away. "Let her go—do you hear me?"

"This is perfect—you know that," my other self gloated as he stood over Hermione. His voice rose, and he glanced upward. "Room? I need a place to hide three bodies…" he grinned down at her. "Where no one will ever find them."

I tore at the air, baring my teeth. My other self prodded Hermione with his toe.

"Get up, Mudblood. Get up and look at me in the eyes while I kill you."

Hermione didn't lift her head—she lay there, shuddering and sobbing. My doppelganger bent down, took a fistful of her curls and jerked her straight up. She pressed her forearms to her chest and her expression twisted. She whimpered and shook. He bent his face close to her tear-stained one, and rammed his wand against the bottom of her jaw.

I reached down inside me, shut my eyes, then stretched out both hands. I drew in a deep breath, opened my eyes, and tried the only thing I could think of.

"Finite Incantatem!"

Power rippled out from me, shaking the image in the clearing. My foot caught the ground. I stepped forward. It felt like I was wallowing through mud, but I moved. I plowed on, gaining speed, and as I did, my twin rippled and pulsed, and suddenly disappeared. Potter and Weasley's bodies vanished. I skidded to a halt in front of Hermione just as she tumbled forward.

I caught hold of her arms. Her head snapped up. Silence fell.

Suddenly, she thrashed against me, almost hitting my face.

"Let me go!" she roared. "Let me go, you monster!"

"Hermione, hang on—" I grabbed her arms. "Hang on, wait! It's me—"

"You killed them, you killed them," she railed, straining against my grip. "Let go!"

"Granger, stop it!" I shouted. "Look at me!"

She stopped, and opened her bright brown eyes. She blinked. Her brow furrowed, and tears spilled. She searched my face. I relaxed my grasp on her arms, and raised my eyebrows.

"It's me," I said again, quieter.

For just a moment longer, she gazed back, unsure. Then, sudden recognition flashed across her eyes, and her mouth fell open. And then she threw her arms around my shoulders and buried her face in my neck.

I staggered backward, letting go of her, but her grip on me tightened. I felt her heart hammering against my chest, and she took fistfuls of my shirt.

I didn't know where to put my hands—I finally just rested my palms on her back.

"Relax, Granger," I said, as she started shivering hard. "It didn't happen, see? None of it."

"I know. I'm fine," she whispered. "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine." She wrapped her arms tighter.

"No, you're not," I rolled my eyes. "You don't always have to be fine."

And I bent and picked her up. She pressed her forehead harder into my collar, and I cradled her. I wanted to say something sarcastic about how she needed to lose weight—even though she really was very light to carry—but I couldn't summon up anything witty. The image of blood leaking from Potter's lips was still too fresh.

I carried her back the way I'd come, pine needles rustling beneath my feet. She kept trembling, never lifting her head, her fists full of the loose fabric of my shirt.

I never found the path. But for some reason, the forest just faded behind me as the gray mist took over. Now, I pushed through the crackling stalks of barley, and refused to drift right or left.

There was that glow again. I made for it, shifting Hermione in my arms. The willow rose up out of the fog. I ducked my head and used my left shoulder to push through the curtain.

The soft blue light fell across us, and the little gold sparkles rose up as my feet shuffled through the thick grass.

I bent over, then knelt to put Hermione down in a sitting position on the ground near her customary root. But she wouldn't let go of me. I lost my balance and fell backward, sitting down myself.

"Come on, Granger," I muttered, trying to get out from under her. But she only clamped down harder, and her breathing suddenly sounded distressed. I groaned.

"Well at least…Ugh, this is absurd," I grunted, scooting back to lean against the root. My back hit it, and she fell down onto my lap, sitting on me. She adjusted her arms around my shoulders and laid the side of her head down on my collarbone. I ground my teeth.

"You need to get off me. Granger, I'm not…Listen—" I tried to pull her off. Her body gave a deep shudder—and then I felt warm tears slide down the side of my neck. I stopped pulling.

I loosened my muscles. Slowly, lightly, I wrapped my right arm around her waist. I hesitated. Then, my left arm came around, and I rested my palm on her hip. She let out a long, shivering sigh, then nuzzled her nose against the skin of my throat. Her hands let go their death grip on my shirt, and her fingers stretched out and softened. She melted against me, taking a long, deep sigh. It was as if she was assured that I wasn't going to let her go now.

I listened to her breathing—tired and jagged. My hands gentled against her as my brow furrowed. I swallowed. She was warm, and soft, and her hair smelled like lilacs. Her long curls fell across my shoulder. She felt delicate, sitting here in my arms—winsome and light and fragile. I tried to remind myself how disgusted I always felt when I was near her, but that thought wouldn't hold. All I knew right now was that she was clinging to me—she was breaking right here, against my heart. And all of a sudden, I found myself trying to hold her together.

"It's all right," I murmured, hardly loud enough to even hear myself. "Really, it is." I let my head fall back against the root and I stared up at the boughs, a strange pain traveling down through my chest. "It's just a dream."

She didn't say anything back. I moved my right hand thumb against her sweater. She sighed, and relaxed further. And so I let my eyes drift shut, and spent the rest of my waking moments rubbing my thumb back and forth against the small of her back.

VVVVVVV

HERMIONE

I lay in a fog, in darkness. A deep, steady beat resounded against my head. And warmth surrounded me. Warmth, and strength. Slowly, I came back up to the surface, and I gradually opened my eyes.

My arms were wrapped around someone's neck, and the bridge of my nose pressed against the softness of someone's throat. The deep, steady sound was a heartbeat, and I could feel the resulting pulse against my nose. A strong arm encircled my waist, and another rested against my leg and hip.

I lifted my head, just an inch. A pale, golden head leaned back against the root, long-lashed eyes closed.

Draco was holding me in his lap. And we had both fallen asleep.

For an instant, my heartbeat accelerated in bewilderment. Then I remembered.

I remembered the black-eyed Draco. I remembered Harry being stabbed in the heart. I remembered Ron being swallowed in green flame…

I remembered the black-eyed Draco crumbling to dust. I remembered looking into the real Draco's eyes and seeing that he'd been trying all along to get to me, trying to stop it all. Trying to make me see that it was all a dream.

I gazed at him now. He had dark circles under his eyes. I winced. This couldn't be comfortable for him, my sitting here. Carefully, I drew my arms back from around his shoulders, slid backward, off his lap, and took his arm up and over my head. He shifted, and for a second I thought he would wake up. But when I set his arm down, he just moaned briefly, then turned his head away. For a moment, my fingers lingered on his pale hand. Then, I just sat there and looked at him—and my mind became clearer than it had been since I had arrived in this Room.

All this time, I had been trying to figure a way out of here. I had been battling the visions and the nightmares as if they were enemies, problems, riddles. I had been working through the magical dynamics of the forest and the path and the field and the willow. I had even gotten hung up on the idea that we had confused the Room and it was just doing its best to keep up.

The Room of Requirement. The Room that was hundreds of years old, and conceived of by the most brilliant witches and wizards of all time. The Room that had, for thousands of students for nearly a thousand years, supplied exactly what they needed, exactly when they needed it.

We had not confused the Room. We had asked it for something specific. And it had delivered.

I had no doubt that Draco had been running away from the bathroom with one thought on his mind: "I need a safe place, a place to escape." And the Room had given him the barley field and the willow—the willow that had surely been conjured from some version of Rivendell or Lothlorien, since Draco would have fond, safe memories of them from Tolkien's writings.

And as for myself? I had been thinking one, singular thought as I chased him:

"I just need more time."

I had needed time to actually talk to Draco. Time to uncover the truth about Katie Bell, and what he had been planning.

But my request would have been foiled if we had just been able to turn around and open the door again. If we just barreled right out, the Room would have failed. And so it had hidden the door behind the most terrifying things in our minds, blocking our exit.

The Room didn't want us to try to leave. It wanted us to stay. Because of the things we had asked for.

I had heard a massive clock tick and then grind to a halt the moment we entered. And the clock in the willow, very obviously, was not working. Time had stopped inside the safe place.

The Room was giving me more time. It was giving me all the time I needed.

Outside, the wind suddenly gave a strong, heavy rush. But it didn't sound the same. It sounded like a fresh gust off the sea. And it carried a scent with it—a smell like spring rain. I turned, and got up. Hesitating, I went to the willow curtain and pushed it aside.

The black fog, the black poisonous fog, rolled back like a carpet. And it kept going and going—

And the forest disappeared. I saw it for a moment—those dark, skeletal trees. But then they disintegrated and followed the fog as it roiled away from me, leaving a vast, endless, waving field of gentle hills.

I stepped out. And the gold lights that usually rose from my feet in the willow room followed me. They swirled up around me, multiplying and spinning, and rising straight up into the black, empty sky.

The dark barley fields began to illuminate as the golden lights burned brighter and rose higher and higher. I froze where I was, dazzled, stunned.

The curtain rustled behind me. I glanced behind me.

Draco ducked through, and he met my eyes. I said nothing. His face softened, and he stayed silent, too. But then he looked up, past me, and saw the lights. His lips parted, and he wandered out to stand beside me.

The tips of the stalks began to glow, like lightning bugs had landed atop each one. The wind joined the dance, whirling around us and tossing our hair, and stirring the little golden lights. The thousands—no, millions of golden lights.

I craned my neck, watching them rise. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Draco do the same. It was almost like daylight—except warmer, and more brilliant than anything I'd seen.

And then the little lights exploded—billions of pieces shot off in every direction…

And then the limitless sky ignited with countless brilliant, distant stars.

All around us, the barley field stretched on and on without end. The evil forest was nowhere to be seen. The wind laughed, even happier than it had been during the afternoons before. I wrapped my arms around myself. I glanced over at Draco.

He was gazing up at the stars, his eyes alight with their reflections. He looked surprised, amazed. He crossed his arms and shook his head.

"Blimey," he whispered, and that was all. I almost smiled.

Time. It was what I had asked for. I had needed time to ask him about Katie Bell, and about why he had been crying. I had needed time for him to calm down, and speak rationally. I had needed time for him to open up to me, to be willing to tell me. And now I had it.

Before I'd crossed the threshold of this Room, I would have had to agree with anyone who told me that it was useless trying to appeal to Draco's humanity or empathy for any reason. That, in truth, I would be wasting my time. That it was impossible.

But the Room of Requirement, who had more wisdom than any Hogwarts student, did not seem to agree. And as I stood there, looking at him as he shone in the starlight, I began to believe something different than I had before. It was just me and Draco Malfoy, beneath a brand new sky, with all the time in the world.

Perhaps it wasn't so impossible after all.

TBC

Oh, leave a review! Please do! It makes me update faster!