My dear Readers! Thank you so very, very much for the reviews. I'm really happy to read some reactions to my story, and I even more happy that you like it so much. Yes, it's building up slowly, but our beloved Ms. Rowling did the same and I always think that the characters of a story as to explorer the whole thing like the readers have to do (giggle, do I make any sense?).

In this new chapter Hermione and Draco will face for the first time, what is left of Voldemort and are going to realize that there is still darkness in the world. Further more Hagrid will present his new 'pet', Ron starts to get warily of our sweet witch's urge to defend the 'Ferret' and… Well, I think you have to read it.

I hope you're going to have fun,

Love you all,

Yours Lywhn

Chapter 9 – Secrets

"Now RUN!"

Draco didn't have to say it the third time. Granger tucked her bag and sprinted up the short incline, toward the gates of the castle's courtyard, Malfoy beside her. A cold anger crept into their minds and bodies at the thought that those silhouettes could really be Death Eaters. Again and again, the Head Boy threw glances over his shoulder, not letting the two figures out of his sight. He needed no proof of their identity - he knew that they were former followers of the Dark Lord and…

He gasped as a searing pain blossomed on his left forearm, as if the image was being burned there anew. Hermione heard him, saw him slap his hand over his forearm, wincing in pain, and realized what was happening to him. Voldemort was dead, but the Dark Mark would work if talented Death Eaters used it to contact others. In this case, it was to torture a former member of their exclusive little club. Draco had pressed his eyes shut, stumbling, and clenched his teeth.

"Malfoy!" she called, dropping back to his side. In doing so, she felt a strange pressure in her head. Having thoroughly read about Legilimency – the assault of another's mind to place other thoughts there – she immediately recognized that someone was trying to access her thoughts. She had not had the opportunity to learn Occlumency, the skill of blocking one's thoughts from intrusion, but she knew that she had to act immediately. Seeing Draco distracted by his pain, she pulled his wand out of his trembling fingers and moved between him and the attackers, "Protego!" hoping it would be enough. The wand felt foreign in her hand, for it hadn't chosen her, but still it obeyed and worked as a catalyst for her magic. The pressure behind her temples vanished.

Several nearby nesting birds rose up in panic and then, suddenly, the strangers were nothing more than a blur of black smoke, whirling into the air, into the darkening skies, mingling with the lowering clouds. Hermione swallowed down her fear. She had seen it before, when the followers turned into a small tornado of black dust. Only the most skilled Death Eaters had been able to use such dark and forbidden magic that allowed them to fly without brooms.

She turned back to Malfoy, still holding his wand, and they both sank to their knees. He was pale as snow and his eyes had reddened. He breathed unsteadily, still clutching his left arm, focusing on the ground in front of him to regain some control. The pain still lingered, she could tell. She gave him several moments, her heart beating far too quickly, both from fear and sudden compassion.

"Malfoy?" she whispered and watched him carefully. "Are you okay?"

He didn't answer at first, then he straightened his shoulders. "What do you think?" he forced the words past clenched teeth, without lifting his eyes from the ground.

Hermione grimaced – so typical for him to mask any weakness with anger! – and held her hand out to him. "Show me," she said softly, and told herself to remain patient when his head jerked up and his eyes met hers.

"NO!" He sounded almost panic-stricken.

The Gryffindor understood the reason for his reaction. Deciding to let the cat out of the bag, she replied calmly: "I know you were branded with the Dark Mark – and those bastards did something with it to torture you. Let me see it. I might be able to ease the pain. I did learn some healing spells while larking about the countryside."

He stared at her, shocked, unbelieving, angry, frustrated … so many emotions passed through his storm-grey eyes that Hermione felt another jab of sympathy. "You … you know?" he finally managed to say, his body language reminded Hermione of a trapped panther, ready to strike – or to flee. Her senses told her that this was a critical moment for both of them.

"Yes, I know about your Dark Mark." Uneasily she watched his eyes dart around like a trapped deer, and continued even more softly. "It was obvious, even in our sixth year. And I saw it the evening you … you learned about the attack on your parents." She met his glare again, this time daring and challenging. "But I don't care anymore. It's in the past." She bit her lips. "But not for you, seeing what it can still do to you."

He relaxed momentarily. She didn't think that he was truly ashamed of the branded proof of his sinister past, but she could tell that he didn't want to be reminded of it, which she saw as a beginning. Maybe he really had changed, if only a little. Sighing she reached out and gently pulled his right hand from his arm, her gaze never leaving his. She was surprised that he allowed her to touch him, to let her do as she asked – that is, until she tried to peel the sleeve of his shirt back. His hands shot forward and caught hers in a bruising grip, an angry frown appeared on his forehead.

"That's quite enough, Granger!" he hissed, his eyes were two small silver slits – which suddenly widened when he saw what she held. "That is my wand!" he growled, and Hermione sighed and sat back on her heels.

"Yes, I needed it to protect us. And you don't have to thank me. We're even now, seeing how you woke me up before the rain came!" Irritation edged her voice and her expression, while she tried to free her hands without success. He was too strong.

"And why did you need my wand?" he demanded harshly, snatching it from her. "You didn't lose yours again, did you!"

"No, it's in my bag – and there was no time," she told him, her voice raised, her patience finally gone. "Sweet cider, Malfoy, get a grip! Two Death Eaters just attacked us and used your Dark Mark to hurt you, and they're still out here somewhere! So stop acting like offended royalty and let's get back to the castle before they try to finish us off!"

Without wasting another moment, she yanked her hands free, gripped his right wrist and pulled him after her, holding her bag over her shoulder, ignoring the sunburn on her shoulder. "And don't you dare complain about my 'filthy' fingers on your precious white skin. I do think you'll survive it!" In spite of her temper, she did notice that the skin beneath her palm was surprisingly smooth and not the slightest bit cold, but warm. But it felt odd to touch him like this, and it distracted her as she headed for the castle, pulling him along with her.

As the two jogged back to the safe walls of the castle, both their minds went in completely different directions. For a long moment Draco had no words, and followed the lithe, feisty witch, who had once again stepped between him and danger. His left arm still burned like fire, and he was certain that one of the two strangers had tried to reach into his mind, but thank the stars above he had learned Occlumency. His thoughts were now in turmoil, but not only because of the presence of two Death Eaters near Hogwarts. The Malfoy side of him was furious with the knowledge that the Mudblood not only saved the day, but also dared to put her hands on him, as if he were one of her menial class. However the man in him was amused by her demonstration of the temper that lay beneath her veneer of rationality. She was gabbling on in that silly way she had.

And then it hit him. He'd been attacked by two Death Eaters! His mother's warning sounded loud in his ears, she had pleaded with him to stay in the school for his own safety. So, mother had been right. He was in danger, and he didn't know what to do about it.

Hermione, on the other hand, wrestled with her own thoughts about the last few minutes. "We have to go to McGonagall. We have to tell her what happened. Maybe she can contact the Ministry and they'll send some Aurors to catch those bastards!" Her nerves were strung tight, making her ramble like she often did after the danger had passed. "And she has to have a closer look at your arm. Madame Pomfrey will know how to ease the pain. I could do it, too, but rather the Thames flows backwards, before the noble born, pure blooded Draco Malfoy allows a Muggle-born to help! I really don't get you, Malfoy. Here we are, having-"

"Would you please stop talking, Granger?" He sounded unnerved as they reached the courtyard. "I'm trying to sort out what just happened, and your verbal diarrhoea is absolutely no help!"

She threw him a fiery glance. He wrenched out of her grip, and she scoffed: "Just check your arm. Maybe my fingers left some marks on it, too!"

"I'm certain of it!" he snapped, and strode faster, heading for the entrance, and then up the staircase, the voices from the Great Hall echoing from inside.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked. "McGonagall is most likely in her private office and…"

He whirled around, a deep frown on his forehead. "I will not go to her." He pointed a finger at her. "And you will not go to her, either! No word about what happened outside, clear?"

Gaping at him, Hermione shook her head. "Malfoy, Death Eaters attacked you! They attacked my mind, I could feel it! We have to tell the headmistress about it and probably-"

Startled, she went silent as Draco suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders. "Not one word, Granger!" he hissed, glaring at her. "I will not be the subject of idle school gossip! I will contact my father and that will be quite enough."

"But…"

"No 'buts', Granger! I already told you on the train: don't mingle in my businesses. This is something that concerns my family and me, so stay the hell out of it!" He meant it. He was more than serious.

But Hermione wouldn't be Hermione if she'd backed down now. His demand made no sense at all. "Malfoy, this is not just about you and your family. We all are in danger as long as Death Eaters are free and prowling outside the school. They attacked me, too. So-"

"Wrong place, wrong time. So let it be a warning," he interrupted her sharply. "You helped me out there, I admit it, and I'm grateful. But don't interfere again! I can't always protect you!"

She gasped. "Protect ME? I saved your sorry white hide this time, not the other way around!" she finally told him in a forced whisper as he loosened his grip and turned to walk away.

Angrily he whirled around again. "Don't exaggerate. We weren't in mortal danger. It was just uncomfortable, so…"

"'Uncomfortable'?" Hermione didn't trust her own ears. Was he daft or simply in denial? "You were whimpering in pain and completely helpless, and those foul creatures tried to invade my mind! That isn't 'uncomfortable', it's-"

"I was NOT 'whimpering in pain'! Don't you dare spread that story around!" he strained not to shout this in the front hall, his pale face flushed, fists balled. "Not a word to anyone – not to Potter, not to Weasley, not to a teacher. And if I learn that you've told anyone of … of this damn mistake…" He nodded to his left forearm, "I swear, I'll-"

Something whirled around them, something fat, white, transparent and cold, laughing like a hyena. "Kissy, kissy, the Slytherin and the missy, they bicker like young lovers, and give a show for all the others!"

"Peeves!"

This time both of them shouted in surprise as the poltergeist circled them, made a rude face and flew up to the high ceiling, still cackling his silly poem.

"One day I'm going to bring a priest here and have him chase that ridiculous ghost away!" she groaned and her partner snorted.

"Exorcizing Peeves would take the entire abbey!"

The enormous tower clock struck the hour, echoing throughout the castle. They were going to be late for dinner. And they hadn't even changed yet. Running toward the staircase, they continued to argue about reporting what happened to McGonagall or not. This was resolved, more or less, when Malfoy blackmailed Hermione into promising her silence by threatening to report her leniency to the two Hufflepuffs. Scolding as only she could, she finally gave in. She swore to herself that she would be more diligent about keeping an eye on her Head-partner from now on. They parted in the common room, arriving separately at the Great Hall, still irritated with each other – and secretly shaken by the latest events.

And the night would hold more surprises…

"I can't believe it!"

Harry stared wide-eyed at Hermione, while she hushed him, throwing a wary glance toward Madame Pomfrey, who had vanished into her office to mix a lotion for her sunburn. It was a good excuse for the two of them to be in the hospital-wing together, and visiting Ron. The red-haired young man was frustrated and nearly exhausted by his feet and legs jerking and moving on their own accord, but what Hermione told them after dinner was enough to distract him from his affliction.

"Death Eaters, here, at Hogwarts!" Ron shook his head and groaned, as his jinxed feet did a little dance. "And all because of the Ferret!" he growled.

Harry bit his lips. "The Daily Prophet had it right, for a change. The Death Eaters who are still at large are after their former members and their families. Malfoy has a problem."

"Couldn't care less," Ron grumbled. "You heard what Hermione told us: he has the Dark Mark and…" His light eyes went wide. "You were right, Harry, in Diagon Alley, when you said he must have gotten the mark. He already was a Death Eater then!" He blinked and looked out window. "And here among us. Blimey!"

"Calm down, Ron," Hermione said with a sigh. "He only got it because of his father, surely, and Voldemort wanted someone to do the deed to Dumbledore. And he's terrified that the others will find out. I think he's ashamed of it." She grimaced. "Knowing what the other Death Eaters can do to him, using that awful 'tattoo,' well, I pity him."

"Pity? Malfoy?" Ron's glare revealed that he doubted her sanity. "It's his own fault-"

"We were all so young, so easy to impress. He followed his father's example, as you did with yours. So how-"

"Why are you defending him?" A crease appeared between Ron's eyebrows, his eyes and the turn of his mouth betrayed his dislike. And he didn't like the way his girlfriend was standing up for their old enemy.

"I'm not defending him, I'm just saying it's not fair to ignore his problems," Hermione replied, shrugging. "His parents in danger, himself at risk, even here in Hogwarts. You know what that's like. After all, your parents are on the vengeance list, too." Hermione sat down on the empty bed beside him, straightened her thin cotton trousers and top. "What really puzzles me is that those two intruders were able to get past Hogwarts' borders. Not with all their power intact, but still enough to hurt Draco and try to access my thoughts."

Out of habit Harry rubbed his scar. "You should have gone to McGonagall, Mione. Really!"

Hermione sighed, looking down. "I promised Draco that I wouldn't tell a professor."

"Only a professor? You didn't promise about us?" A knowing grin played around Harry's face, and the Head Girl took a deep breath. "Yeah, I did, but, well, it's a whole other issue, if I'm running to the headmistress or tell a secret to my best friends." She looked back and forth between the two. "Please, don't tell anyone. Malfoy will blow up and find a way to curse me if he learns that I broke my word. Harry, you could always depend on us to keep your secrets, remember?"

"I'll hex him into the next week, if he tries to do something to you," Rom grumbled, then, "Aww, get off it!" as his legs began to jerk and to kick again. "Hermione, you're Head Girl. Give them so much Detention that they don't know which is right or left!" he requested angrily.

"Them?" Hermione had lost his train of thought.

"The two who were attempting this stupid jinx and hit me with it!"

Harry almost laughed – and swallowed the laughter the moment Madame Pomfrey returned. She instantly scolded them when she saw the two at Ron's bed and shooed them out of the hospital wing as soon as she had treated Hermione's sunburn behind a curtain. Waving at their friend for the last time, the two departed, leaving a frustrated Weasley behind. Outside Potter looked at her, his expression serious, and murmured: "Think about it, Mione. If Death Eaters appeared within the school grounds, McGonagall should be informed."

"I gave my word," she replied automatically. "And I violated that promise by telling you."

They walked past several darkened windows, but still no rain. The thunder had ceased for the time being. It felt again like the quiet before the storm, the atmosphere thick enough to slice with a knife. Hermione looked at Harry and lifted one brow. Ever since dinner, she'd felt that he had something he wanted to tell her, but couldn't find the words. She smiled softly. "Out with it!" she said and met his surprised gaze.

"What?"

"You're up to something, but don't know how to tell me. Come on, I won't give you Detention, I promise!"

He grinned at her insight, and rubbed his neck. "I met Hagrid on my way back from the Quidditch field. He asked us to visit him this evening. It seems a new 'pet' has arrived. Ron can't, and I know you're not fond of most of his interests, but I didn't want to disappoint him and said we would come."

Hermione rubbed her temple. "You do know that we wouldn't make it back to the castle before ten o'clock? It's already past nine."

He smiled at her, his green eyes were sparkling. "Would you take points from Gryffindor if you caught me?"

Giggling she smacked his arm. "Silly, of course not." She sighed, which she seemed to be doing a lot lately. "Right. Bring your invisibility cloak and met me in half an hour at the entrance. Unlike you, I should be able to get there with no trouble."

He beamed, "Thanks, Hermione. I knew you wouldn't let Hagrid down!"

They parted and walked to their dorms. Hermione was deep in thought as she arrived at the portrait hole and stepped through. The green fire in the fireplace and Draco kneeling in front of it immediately captured her attention. But, to her surprise, she didn't see the face of Lucius or Narcissa Malfoy. The green flames were empty – and Draco looked frustrated as he glanced over his shoulder with angry eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I live here, dimbulb!" she replied and shook her head. "Forget that?"

His eyes swept her with disdain, and made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "Whatever it is you want, hurry up! I've urgent matters."

"Yes, seeing as someone seems to want your head," Hermione scoffed. She nodded toward the green fire. "No one at home?"

He glared at her, turning over retorts in his mind. But knowing her and don't wanting to risk her talking to the headmistress after all, he decided just to answer. "No, no response."

Without realizing it, Hermione stepped close, worry on her face. No, Lucius and Narcissa didn't awaken sympathy in her, but their silence could mean trouble. "Maybe they've gone out for dinner or something," she offered.

A low snort. "For sure, with a dozen Death Eaters on their tail and a wall of Aurors around them. Sounds like a lovely evening." He grimaced. "Really, Granger, you aren't usually stupid. It doesn't suit you." He glanced back at the dancing green flames. "I tried the library, the dining-room, the living-room and even their bed-room. No answer anywhere." He sounded frustrated, not even realizing that he spoke aloud.

Only when she spoke up did he learn that he had spoken his thoughts aloud: "All of your fireplaces are connected?" Hermione couldn't deny it, she was impressed.

Draco shrugged. "Not all. The kitchen isn't."

Kitchen! That was the answer. Whirling around, Hermione clapped her hands. "Kreacher? Would you please be so kind to come here?"

"No, wait -!" Malfoy started to protest, but it was too late. With a loud 'crack' the house-elf appeared out of nothing in front of her, bowing deeply, his ugly old face looking eager and friendly.

"Kreacher has been summoned by the lovely Miss and wishes her a good evening. How can Kreacher help?" He wore a new, clean dishtowel tied about his waist and the locket he had received from Harry winked on his leathery chest.

"Good evening to you too, Kreacher, and thank you for allowing me some of your time," Hermione smiled and kneeled down in front of him to put herself at his eye-level. "Kreacher, you do like the Malfoy family, don't you?"

The large dark eyes even went wider, before he stammered: "Y-y-yes, Miss, the Lady Malfoy was always kind to Kreacher and…" he bowed deeply again, seeing Draco as the young man rose from his position in front of the fireplace. "Good evening to you, Master Draco!"

Malfoy's silver-grey eyes were on the witch, ignoring the elf's greeting completely. "You want to send him to my home to check on my parents!" It was not a question, but a statement – strangely calm.

Hermione nodded. "Kreacher can leave Hogwarts' grounds by Apparating, you can't. So it's only logical to ask him for a favour."

Kreacher, who nervously twisted his fingers in his dishtowel, cleared his throat. "Of course Kreacher can go to Malfoy Manor and look in on the Lady, but…" His oversized ears jerked. "But why, Miss?"

Draco stared at him. A house-elf asked for reasons of an order? Had the world gone mad? Before he could sneer a comment, Hermione answered the creature as if she were talking to a classmate: "Because Death Eaters attacked Draco's parents three weeks ago and Draco can't contact them now. They don't answer his calls and he is very worried." She thought she could feel the glare on the back of her head. Remembering his pride that taught him that a Malfoy was NEVER worried or frightened, she added hastily, "and it is important that he is able to speak to them. So, if you don't mind, and if your duties allow it, could you please have a look in the manor, to see if the Malfoys are all right and give them a message to contact their son here?"

Draco felt the reigns slipping through his fingers, an unacceptable circumstance, and loudly cleared his throat. "Granger, I appreciate your willingness to help, I really do, but-"

"Do you have a better idea? Let's hear it!" she interrupted him impatiently, glancing over her shoulder to him. "If you don't contact your father about this afternoon, I might forget my promise and go to McGonagall." She watched his face grow red with a rising fury, but she stood her ground. "I certainly don't want to break my word, and you don't want to have any trouble with the headmistress not for going directly to her. So we must act now." Her brown looked steadily into his silver ones.

He gritted his teeth. "You're blackmailing me?" he asked, his voice low, threatening.

Hermione gave him one of her sweetest, merriest smiles, to take some of the wind out of his sails, so to speak. "Oh no, Draco, of course not. That's still your specialty. But I really wonder about the way your mind works, if you consider a reasonable alternative a form of blackmail." For a long moment she held his fierce glance, then she turned her attention back to Kreacher. "Could you…?" she began, but the house elf already nodded and vanished with the sharp noise.

Sighing Hermione rose, running her hands through her hair, and retreated. At least they were doing something about this 'visit' from the Death Eaters, even if it meant contacting that mean-spirited Lucius Malfoy-

"Where are going?" His voice had a distinct edge to it, and the Head-Girl halted at the stairs.

"To my dorm." She glanced back at him. "I have something I must do this evening. Excuse me."

"That's it? You stick your Muggle-born nose into my businesses and just walk away?" Anger made his voice dark.

Grimacing, Hermione turned around, wondering what she'd find. She recognized his rigid posture and the tension in his shoulders, rising toward his ears, and the cords standing out on his neck, visible above the open neck of the shirt. His lips were pressed shut and his glare dared her to refuse a proper answer now.

But his mood couldn't fool her. She realized his true state: he was terrified; fearing the silence of his parents meant the worst. And, as in the days before, her irritation with his arrogant and hurtful behaviour melted once again into something like compassion. Draco Malfoy was traversing a high wire, with too many reasons to fall and nothing to hold on to, a helpless position. He'd been there before. And her own big heart stirred for him, despite their history with each other.

"We can do nothing more than wait until Kreacher returns. In the meantime, I'll go change and…" she took a deep breath, it was almost time to meet Harry, but she hadn't it in her to leave him to himself under these circumstances, "and then I'll wait here with you until Kreacher comes back."

He didn't answer, his expression didn't change, but it didn't slip her attention that his shoulders lowered a fraction and he had stopped gritting his teeth. Nor did he bite out a comment about how he didn't need anyone to stay with him. Hiding a smile, Hermione nodded and ran up the stairs to her dorm. She grabbed a sweater and a rain jacket, in case the storm finally broke.

Returning, she approached Draco on his sofa, deep in thought, arms crossed, head lowered. He started when she came into view and he glanced up to her. For the twinkling of an eye, he looked uncharacteristically small, almost vulnerable, like a little boy, then the cool mask was back in place. "The old bat is sluggish. What's taking him so long?" he grumbled

Hermione shrugged. "As I recall, your home is enormous. He must be-"

CRACK

Kreacher was back, but before he could say anything, Draco jumped up. "Where are they? Are they hurt? What did you-"

"Stop! Let him speak!" Granger interrupted, laying a gentle hand on the shoulder of the house elf, who was looking wide-eyed at the flustered Head Boy. Then he gulped and reported: "Kreacher has searched for the beautiful Lady Malfoy and her noble husband, but they are not at home. Kreacher asked Sneaker, an obedient servant of the noble house of Malfoy, and he told Kreacher that the elevated Lady and gallant Master are in London, on the invitation of the Minister of Magic. Several Death Eaters have been captured and the lovely Lady and her husband were asked to identify them. But Kreacher left a message with Sneaker and they shall contact the brave young master upon their return."

The tension left Draco and he sighed in relief, rubbing his forehead; his silver ring glistening in the firelight. They were at the Ministry, not in danger. Thank heaven. Then, he remembered that he wasn't alone and glanced up, meeting the warm amused eyes of the girl. Her idea to send the house elf to check on his parents had been a good one – even more so since the old gnome returned with good news, but still … it rankled him to have to thank her, again! But he had risen politely and tilted his head, told her, "Thanks, Granger, for calling him." He pointed at Kreacher, who grinned up at him with yellow teeth. Then Malfoy frowned. "Kreacher, no word to anyone about where you were or why!"

Hermione squeaked a sound of frustration. "Oh, Malfoy, since you asked Kreacher so nicely he certainly will keep your little secret!" she mocked, glaring at him before she turned to the house elf, who already had his hands on his chest, covering the locket with them, and bowing.

"I swear, young Master, that no one unworthy will learn of it."

"Unworthy?" Draco repeated, already anticipating what the house elf meant. "You will not tell ANYONE -" He stopped, for Kreacher had quickly kissed Hermione's hand and vanished. Exasperated, the Prince of Slytherin threw back his head. "Why me!" he groaned, and turned again to his partner. "You, girl, you make sure he doesn't talk to Potter about it!" he told her imperiously, effectively punching Hermione's "outrage" button.

"Has it ever entered your mind to ask instead of order me around?" she snapped. His glare spoke volumes. She threw her rain jacket over her arm, irritation spread over her sun-kissed face. "Have a nice evening, Slytherin, I'm out of here."

He took one long stride, planting himself in front of her, silver eyes pinning her to the spot. "You gave your word, Granger! Don't you break it and mess with me! If I learn that you or this elf said a word about-"

"Why are you so eager to keep this a secret?" she shouted frustration. "There is no witch or wizard in this country that doesn't know that the Death Eaters still at large are out for revenge! They've spied on you, attacked you, but you act like it's some kind of private family affair! Why don't you want any help? You could be killed, too, so drop your stupid arrogance and let us help!"

"I don't need help, Granger!" he fired back. "Snape didn't get it, my mother didn't get it, you don't get it either! I do NOT need your help FIGHTING OFF THESE BASTARDS!"

Hermione stared at him before she hissed, "Is that what I should put on your gravestone, Malfoy?" With that, she walked around him toward the portrait hole.

"Where are you going?"

"Out!" she snapped. "I need some fresh air! And by the way, you're welcome!" Slamming the portrait behind her, she vanished into the darkening corridor, nearly shrieking with rage at the ingratitude and foolhardy pride of this large bundle of impossibility she was assigned to live with.

The air was thick with electricity as Harry and Hermione – both hidden under the invisibility cloak he had inherited from his father – left the castle and walked towards Hagrid's hut. It had been rebuilt after the Death Eaters set it afire. Golden light shone through the small windows, partly open, and the delicious smell of tea and cake reached them on the still evening. Fang, the enormous wolfhound, recognized them immediately in spite of the cloak, and barked an enthusiastic greeting before they even reached the door.

"Jus' a moment!"

A chair scraped the floor and the door was opened, the giant figure of the gamekeeper filled the door-frame, blocking the light. He grinned as two faces appeared in the dark. "C'mon in, yeh two!"

While Potter folded the magical cloak, Granger defended herself against the enthusiastic welcome of Fang, laughing and scratching his ears. The huge dog did not seem to mind that she smelled of a Half-Kneazle, but she knew that Crookshanks would be jealous when she returned and he caught the scent of the dog. Oh well!

Hagrid laid out the cream and sugar. "So, Ron is still in hospital?" he asked.

"Yeah, he's dancing with himself in bed," Harry grinned. "You should see him, Hagrid, he's really talented. Maybe he should give dancing lessons for the Yule Ball."

Hermione punched him on the shoulder. "Really, Harry!" she scolded him, amused. Sitting down on one of the chairs, she looked around at the familiar scene, taking in the comfortable surroundings that offered warmth a feeling of security.

The Golden Trio had visited Hagrid twice since they'd been back at Hogwarts, and, unlike their sixth year, he wasn't offended that they hadn't chosen Care of Magical Creatures. Their schedules were full enough, and with Hermione being Head-Girl, in addition to her secret determination to find out what happened around and in Hogwarts, she almost didn't know if she was coming or going. The three students enjoyed their visits with the half-giant, who had hinted that he was expecting a 'new arrival' soon – and none of the three had been eager to learn any more about it. They all knew Hagrid's odd affection for everything frightening, dangerous and deadly. The 'sweet little thing' had arrived and the half-giant seemed eager to show it at last to Harry and Hermione. Ron would have to wait.

While Hagrid poured them two cups of fruit tea, Hermione took the opportunity to ask about the two creatures which were able to chase a werewolf away, and if the professor found out anything about the shadows that chased him away. Their host grumbled to himself and shrugged.

"I don' know any more than yeh, Hermione, but I think Dumbledore and Snape ar' givin' it a lot o' thought. Why?"

The girl pushed back some stray curls and answered: "Because three days ago, I think I saw one of them in Hogwarts." She raised her brown eyes to Hagrid's beetle black ones and continued: "It growled and threw shadows on the wall, which were somehow human, but also somehow not. Whatever it was, it ran off when I got nearer, but I heard noises like claws on stone as it ran away."

Hagrid sat down, too (the chair creaked dangerously, but held his enormous bulk). "Have yeh told a professor about it?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, only you – and Harry, Ginny and Malfoy." She made a face when Rubeus looked surprised. "He's my partner and was on patrol, too, as it happened."

"Let me guess: 'e didn't believe one word."

"Oh, maybe he did – because he thought it might have been Peeves, or a cat, or me losing my mind." She pulled a face as she said the latter.

Harry cleared his throat. "Hermione, you've been looking for anything about odd shadows in the library for the last three days. You didn't find anything. Maybe Malfoy is right this time and it was really Peeves."

"It was the same creature as in the Forbidden Forest! I'm sure of it," she interrupted him stubbornly and crossed her arms, setting her mouth. "I'll ask Kreacher. House elves know more about what goes on in their homes than anyone else. Maybe he saw something, or-"

A grunting, snuffling sound came from one corner and instantly Hermione grew silent. What ... ?

Hagrid's expression brightened. "Oh, I almos' forgot ter introduce yeh t' someone." He rose, missing the uneasy glance they exchanged. He bent over a wooden box, his eyes shimmering with love, while he cooed, "Yeah, I know, yeh tired, li'l one!" He reached into the box, lifted out something small, and turned around.

It looked ... like ... a pig. A very ugly little pig, with warts on its face, a long snout, small eyes and the first hints of what was sure to be wicked tusks. At first sight, you might mistake it for a warthog, a very young one, but Hermione knew better. She jumped from her chair, wide-eyes. "A-a-a Tebo?" she squeaked.

Harry groaned, "Hagrid, can't you get an ordinary pet?"

Hagrid looked baffled, and stroked the dark fur of the tiny animal. "It's no' dangerous or anythin' like tha'. It won' be any larger than Fang once it's grown."

"No, no larger than Fang, cute little pup he is. Hagrid, Tebos can make themselves invisible. They destroy gardens and can be very bad tempered!" Hermione grumbled.

"At least it doesn't have eight legs or spit fire," Harry consoled himself, watching the animal curiously. He had heard about those creatures, even though he hadn't grown up as a wizard, and he knew that they originated in the Congo and Zaire. Yeah. He'd also learned that they could be very dangerous, as could most magical creatures. In other words, it was perfect for the Half-Giant.

Hagrid cuddled the tiny fellow in his arms, which earned him a reaction similar to a purr. It was obvious that the Tebo liked its new master. "I think I'll be givin' lessons about it. The fifth years'll love it."

Wisely, Harry and Hermione held their tongues, remembering too well their own classes with Hagrid as their teacher, and the problems of the blast-ended screwts. Giving Hagrid the choice of what magical creature he wanted to teach about led to inevitable injuries. Some creatures were simply not suitable for class work, and, unfortunately, those animals were Hagrid's favourites.

"How old is he? Or she?" Harry carefully changed the topic.

Hagrid beamed at him, clearly glad that they seemed interested. "Oh, it's a she and she's about three months ol'. Jus' a baby." He went on with shining eyes and pride in his voice, while he held forth about the tiny female Tebo snuggled in the enormous crook of his elbow. It was some time before he put her back into the box.

The short stop at the hut turned into almost an hour, in which the three discussed the Egyptians and their hawks, the upcoming exams, and the attacks of Death Eaters. The Weasleys were protected by the Ministry, as Arthur and Molly had assured their worried son and daughter, and Harry and Hermione were glad to hear about the protective measures being used at the Burrow to keep the family and baby Ted safe. But the wizarding world was still uneasy.

Deftly, Harry had brought the conversation around to a subject he was eager to learn about, despite Hermione's attempts to kick him under the table. No, he wouldn't speak about what happened that afternoon – after all, she did give her word to Malfoy, and Harry didn't want to create any more strife for her with the Head-Boy – but he had to know more about how the school was protected. He had fought too long and too hard against Voldemort and his fellows for the school not to be alerted when one of the Death Eaters was near.

Hagrid, fortunately, took the wrong meaning to Harry's questions. "Y' don' have ter worry, Harry. McGonagall is in control here. The borders are more protected tha' ever, th' spells are stronger, and no' one miser'ble Death Eater could get through 'em. I'm sure the Ministry'll catch 'em all soon. You'll see, by Halloween they're all in Azkaban."

"I hope so," Potter mumbled. Hermione knew better than to tell him – or Hagrid – she had learned just that evening that several of them had been caught and were being identified by Draco's parents at that moment. It would have led to questions she had promised not to discuss.

As the thunder rolled once again, she and Harry bid Hagrid good-night and even said fare-well to the sleepy Tebo, tentatively petting its short bristles, and left the shack. The next flash streaked across the sky and the freshening wind promised an approaching storm over the castle and Hogsmeade. About halfway back to the castle, the first drops started to fall and both raced the hill up toward Hogwarts, but were soaked by the time they reached the small door.

"Strange weather!" Harry wondered, and winced, as the next blinding flash answered him, followed closely by thunder. Perhaps this was the storm they had all waited for to clear the air.

"Maybe this means the end of the heat," Hermione sighed, slipping out from under the invisibility cloak, illuminating her wand in the dark passage. "Stay close, Harry," she whispered, performed a drying-spell on the dripping silvery cloak, and started toward the main stair. It would draw no attention if she were patrolling late in the evening, but Potter would certainly get detention if caught outside his dorm at this hour. Hermione still hoped that they wouldn't meet a professor during their way to the Gryffindor tower. She hated lying to them.

Again a flash of lightning momentarily illuminated them, and thunder boomed around the walls of the castle. Hermione briefly wondered if anyone was able to sleep through this. The portraits were bathed in the light and the suits of armour looked eerie, as if t ready to walk off their pedestals, which they'd done in the Battle of Hogwarts when summoned by a professor.

As they reached the stone stairs, and then the second floor, Harry suddenly stopped, reaching for Hermione and holding her back. "What?" she whispered, hoping he hadn't noticed some patrolling prefect.

"Did you hear that?" he asked, his face appeared behind her.

Hermione frowned and listened very closely, heard only the rolling thunder and the downpour on the roof and windows. "I don't…" She stopped, for she suddenly heard a low growl. Her eyes widened. She knew that sound well by now. "It's here!" she breathed, dousing her wand.

Harry concentrated, peering into the darkness that was the hallway leading to the west wing of the school. It was from there they heard the noise you would expect from a large jungle cat. Pulling out his wand, he invited Hermione under the cloak again. "Let's go," he whispered, pulling her along next to him.

She gulped, not liking the idea of approaching whatever it was, but she wouldn't allow her fear to get the better of her, and so she moved soundlessly beside her friend toward the area where the growls originated.

They rounded a corner and looked down the long corridor, fitfully lit by two torches that painted shadows on the opposite wall. And there, near the end of the corridor, crouched a tall, slender figure, his silver-blond hair looking gold in the torchlight.

Draco Malfoy.

TBC…

Yeah, a cliff-hanger. Now I'm starting to get mean (laugh, there will be much more open ends to the next chapters, be sure of it).

In the next one our heroes and a very tensed Draco will face something none of them thought to be real, but to be an old legend of a long ago civilisation. The 'shadows' will take shape and the forced trio will ask themselves important questions: are those shadows are fakes, or are they confronted with a truth no-one ever thought to be real.

And you, my dear readers, will learn more about the remaining Death Eaters, which are out to search revenge, and who is their new leader.

I hope, you enjoyed the new update so far and would be very, very happy to receive several of your reactions.

Have a nice week,

Love you,

Yours Lywhn