Disclaimer: I do not own any of Ms. Rowling's wonderful creations. Nor do I own any of the various songs that may be presented throughout the length of this fanfiction. The various songs will be named at the end of the fic, as well as in the chapter within which they lie.

A big thanks and a shout out to all of my reviewers! Thank you so much!

I apologize PROFUSELY at the length of time that it has taken me to finish this next chapter! I actually have Chapter 13 done as well, but I want to finish the final chapter, Chapter 14, before I post up the next chapter. And now, without further adieu, the chapter that I, your favorite (Ducks the flying debris) author has trudged through hell, purgatory, and one whopper of a writer's block to bring you!

Yours,

Allison

Chapter 12

Voldemort stared silently at the wall, three weeks after he'd met Hermione and had the best weekend of his life. It had been, perhaps, the only good thing ever to come of his wretched life. When she'd given herself...everything of herself...to him, it had been the most precious thing he'd ever been handed. He'd told her of his childhood...the pain that he'd suffered...and she had returned the favor, eventually coming around to explaining- reluctantly- about the funny uncle whose actions had haunted her that summer. The man had been found dead in his home three days after Voldemort and Hermione parted ways, and it had been obvious that the muggle had not died quickly with a simple Avada Kedavra. He had suffered. For hours.

And Voldemort had done it all.

But now...now, there was a most perplexing problem placed before Voldemort. And he knew, painfully, that his beloved Hermione had been the cause. Indirectly, perhaps...but she had been the cause.

He...Voldemort...was mortal.

It was what he'd feared, from the beginning of his dark reign so many years ago. Perhaps, if he hadn't gone after Potter, perhaps he wouldn't be in this predicament. But then...he never would have met Tigerlily, who had later become Hermione in his eyes. She was everything to him...would always be the light in the darkness, shining brightly to try to lure him from the cold depths. She would have succeeded, had he been any less entrenched in the depths of the Dark Arts. Of this, he had no doubt.

But for now...for now, he had to deal with being Mortal. He could not simply turn over a new leaf and swear allegiance to Potter, after all, and he no longer had enough of a soul left to divide it many more times. Voldemort himself had lost four deatheaters to the attackers, who- he'd learned- called themselves the Dragon Riders. Peter Pettigrew, not that that was much of a loss, Bellatrix Lestrange's husband Rodolphus, also not much of a loss...the man was a whipping boy for anything that Bella did wrong. The final two, however...Malfoy and McNair were grave losses...and not losses from which Voldemort could easily recover.

He would have to strike quickly, he knew. Before the fool Headmistress of Hogwarts realized that without Snape and Dumbledore holding the wards of the castle, they were failing. Were almost all down, in fact. Too quickly, however, and his Hermione wouldn't have finished her precious NEWTS. How she could look forward to those things was beyond even Voldemort, who had been an overachiever himself during his school years. Why he was scheduling his final attack around the time-table of a seventeen-year-old, he was not entirely sure. Perhaps it was what one did, when one was in love. Perhaps he was being foolish and sentimental, wanting to give her her time of happiness before he took over the wizarding world, beginning with Hogwarts.

"Snape!" Voldemort hissed, suddenly.

"Yes, my lord?"

"You and Bellatrix are to begin preparing for battle. We go the day after the NEWTs have finished. Their guards will be lowered with the relief."

"Yes, My Lord." Snape bowed out, hurrying to find Bellatrix. Voldemort turned and stared pensievely at the latest letter from Tigerlily. A sigh of some strange emotion that had its base in something akin to regret made its way past his lips as he watched the words flowing across the parchment in her familiar handwriting. Sighing silently, Voldemort closed his eyes. Oh Hermione.

He wanted to make her his queen, but he knew that she would never allow it. She would never turn against her precious best friend. It saddened him, knowing that he could never rule with her at his side. She would have to be made a concubine, which she would like just as little. Perhaps, if he gave her the choice, she would choose differently. Determined to ask her once he saw her again, Voldemort quietly continued working on the plans of battle.

badgerbadgerbadgerbadgermushroommushroom

Dragon Rider,

You have done well. All that is left is the beast itself. The last clue was the last clue that you needed. I tell you now that the day after the Nasty Exams, Hogwarts will be in grave danger. Please insure that your team is prepared, as well the Headmistress warned. This will be the last correspondance that you ever recieve from me, as I doubt that I will survive this up and coming battle.

You were one of the best, one of the most gifted. I apologize for not being there to have overseen your apprenticeship for myself.

Yours,

Sir Snake

Hermione stared, flabbergasted, at the letter in her hand. Sir Snake. S.S. Severus Snape. Why hadn't she seen it before? But then...if he was still going to spy...why had he killed Dumbledore? She sighed quietly and set the letter aflame, destroying the evidence as she thought it over. Nothing quite added up with that whole deal. She couldn't understand it. What had made Severus Snape betray Albus Dumbledore? Especially after all that Dumbledore had done for Snape?

Her mind drifted to Voldemort. Her Voldemort. Perhaps, then, she and Professor Snape had more in common than either of them had ever thought. Only she wasn't choosing the darkness...and her love...over her closest friend. Over what was right.

"Riddler." The white owl looked up from preening his feathers as his mistress dipped a quill in ink and began to write. "I need you to deliver this to the owlery and a school owl. Instruct them to take the letter to Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress." The intelligent owl stuck out his leg, cocking his head to one side. "I would send you directly, but the sender must remain anonymous in the eyes of the order. Especially if the Dragon Riders are to do what we must."

As the owl flew out the window, Hermione turned pensive brown eyes to the well worn insta-note parchment on the desk. Picking up her quill once more, she dipped it in the ink.

Vlad?

Yes, Tigerlily? The answer didn't come right away, but it came nonetheless.

I was just on my way out and thought to write to you for a moment. I love you.

And I you, my Tigerlily. Now go on, about your business madam. We both have other issues to attend to. A smile broke out on her face, despite herself, as she wiped the parchment clean and tucked it away. Standing up, the young woman exited her office to see Draco and Harry standing silently in the outer room, examining a book that the witch recognized as being a book on dark curses.

"Well, don't get too comfortable in your studying." She announced. "We're going to have a rigorous time-table to follow for the next few weeks. Voldemort plans to attack the day after the NEWTS have finished."

"Why?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Don't you see? It's the perfect plan." Draco said, slowly. "The oldest students will already be exausted from their tests, and our guards will be down once they're finished, desiring a few days to rest and relax before graduation. The fifth years will still be studying for their OWLS at this time..."

"And the other students will all be caught up in last-minute study sessions as well." Hermione finished for him. "It's a brilliant plan."

"So how are we going to manage to defeat Voldemort and pass our exams?" Harry questioned.

"Simple." Hermione smiled grimly, holding up a time-turner. "We study twice as hard in the defense against the dark arts portion. I've already taken my NEWTS- as you know- so I can help with all ranges. You'll simply have to concentrate on the areas of study you must pass to become an auror and forego the others. Similarly with the other Dragon Riders and their areas of study." She ruffled her hair with one hand, absently looking at the potions texts making up her library.

"Grange?" When the distracted brown eyes met the questioning gray orbs, Draco continued. "Please tell me you have a plan."

Her eyes moved back to the books lining the wall, landing on one in particular. "I might, Draco. I just might." Pulling down the text, she moved to her desk to study without another word.