((A.N. Well, here's Chapter 28. Reviewers; thank you! You make my day! I hope you enjoy this... though I strongly suspect some of you won't...))
PART III: SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN
I thought it would be nice to lie down and close my eyes
It never occurred to me
that I was already asleep.
– Trapt
Chapter 28; A Dance, a Decision, and a Deception
Hermione heard a pounding at her door as she slipped her shoes on. The ball started in ten minutes and they had to be there for the first dance.
She opened the door and found Harry grinning back at her.
"Time to go, Head Girl," Harry told her seriously. "You're going to be late for the most important ball of the year if you spend any more time primping for Malfoy."
"Stop it!" Hermione ordered with a smile, blushing slightly.
Harry couldn't remember a time when he had seen his best friend so radiant.
"You do look good," Harry assured her more softly, taking in the magenta dress Draco had made for her, the elegant layers that fit her body so perfectly.
"Thanks," Hermione replied nervously. "Where are Ginny and Ron?" she closed the door to her room and followed him down the hall.
"Ron's still getting ready upstairs, he's coming down later," Harry told her, "and I don't have any idea where Ginny is."
The last part sounded distant and removed. "Is there something . . .?"
"Good evening, Harry, Hermione!" came an assured voice from behind them. It was Ernie Macmillan. "Quite a lovely evening for a Ball, if I do say so myself."
Annoyed at being cut off, Hermione merely smiled and walked faster.
They had almost reached the Great Hall when Ginny caught up with them, out of breath.
"I'm not late," she said, managing to look upset and relieved at the same time.
"Now all we need is Malfoy," Harry said, "but knowing Malfoy, he'll show up whenever he feels like it."
"I doubt he'll be arriving for a while," Ginny said offhandedly, apparently distracted. Hermione noticed she was also wearing the dress Draco had designed for her.
They entered the Great Hall to find it noticeably transformed. Instead of the usual four long tables, small crimson red ones were scattered around the hall. Soft armchairs and couches had replaced the benches, and Hermione's eyes searched for a certain blond-haired boy against her will.
She found him almost immediately, and Ginny's eyes widened in surprise. Why hadn't Ginny expected him to be there?
He was draped casually across one of the sofas, a glass of something elegant in his hand. Pansy Parkinson sat next to him, and his arm rested on the back of the couch just above her shoulders. She leaned against him, laughing at something he said. Slytherins sat around the table, facing him subtly. He was already a politician like his father, and looked as if he owned the entire world. His robes matched his eyes, a light gray shade somewhere exactly between black and white
When he saw Hermione enter, however, he turned to his companions and pointed rudely at the Gryffindor group, obviously saying something snide about them. Then he disengaged himself from Pansy–she kissed him on the cheek–and he strode over to Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Ernie.
"I told them you had to be my dance partner for the opening waltz," he said to Hermione in an amused voice. He narrowed his eyes at her so that it looked like he was saying something cruel.
She was aware that the Slytherins still watched them.
"What's with Parkinson hanging all over you?" Hermione asked, putting disdain and anger into her look. Not all of it was contrived.
"You're wearing my dress," Draco answered evasively and cheerfully, making an effort not to smile. They continued "glaring" at one another until Dumbledore clapped for silence.
"Welcome, students and Ambassadors alike, to our Farewell Ball in honor of the students leaving us tomorrow. We would be pleased to have you open the ball with a customary waltz as our guests of honor. Pair up and step onto the floor, and we will begin."
Ginny, oddly enough, paired up with Ernie, and Harry decided to ignore this and pair up with Renae. The other Ambassadors promptly found partners and stepped onto the floor.
Draco's hand locked around her waist, and immediately Hermione felt that rush, that illusive surge of challenge in her blood.
"You asked about Pansy," he said grudgingly. "It's just that she's acting a little–"
"– bit like a sleaze?" Hermione finished for him. "Look at that dress."
"Predictable, I was going to say," Draco answered sharply, sidestepping the look she gave him. They whirled faster, and the only thing that wasn't a blur to Hermione was Draco's face.
"Predictable," Draco repeated. "Not like you. She's very pretty and rich, but I think that's the reason I don't like her."
"What reason?"
"She's not like you," the grey-eyed boy replied simply, as if it were obvious.
Hermione raised her eyebrows and tried to refrain from blushing the same shade as her gown. She wished her heart would slow down. The Slytherin group stood right at the edge of the dance floor, watching the pair.
Hermione felt keenly uncomfortable, and tried to steer them closer to the Gryffindor side.
"How many times have I told you not to lead, Miss Granger?" he said softly into her ear. He twirled her so sharply that had it been anyone with less skill, he would have ripped her arm off.
"But the–"
"I know," he said with a devilish smirk. "It looks like I'm trying to hurt you from over there."
And maybe I am, Draco mused thoughtfully.
"Are we going to have to keep this little facade up forever?" Hermione asked him softly. Something akin to pain flashed through his eyes.
"Not for too much longer," he said in an even voice.
She was unable to question him further about this because the song ended and Krum approached.
"Meet me outside the doors at ten," he whispered quickly, before turning to Krum, whose face was turning steadily more purple.
"May I dance vith you, Herm-i-oninny?" he asked, eyes flashing hatefully toward Draco.
Hermione paused for only a moment. It isn't as if he's going to murder me on the dance floor, she thought wryly.
"Yes," said Hermione, and took her hand off of Draco's arm in the least reluctant fashion she could manage.
"Have a nice time getting your feet stepped on," Draco yelled loudly at their retreating backs. Then, more softly, "Merlin knows it will probably be the most pleasant thing that happens to you tonight."
Hermione was waiting for Draco outside the doors when he arrived. She smiled at him and he didn't think he could recall a time when he had seen anyone prettier than Hermione when she smiled like that.
"C'mon," he said softly, confidently, taking her hand. She followed along in a docile manner, and Draco marveled at her casual trust in him. It was as if he were Harry or Ron, it was as if she was his girl. Her pretty, innocent face told him that she knew he would never hurt her.
He had worked hard to get Hermione to trust him like that, and Draco wanted it so badly that sometimes his throat would burn, thinking about it. Now he ventured to say that he would give anything in the world for her to go back to suspecting him, questioning him, being cautious around him.
They had reached a secluded balcony on the Astronomy Tower. He would have to plan things carefully from here on out.
It was an unforgivably clear night, so that in the starlight Hermione's expressions were bare, imprinted on the back of his eyelids like looking at the sun for too long. Why, if everything was so sharp and defined, did Draco feel as if the situation were surreal?
Hermione bit her lip and looked at him with a frown. "Sometimes I wonder why I like you, but this is one of those times when I can't remember why I hated you."
She shivered, and Draco pulled her closer. You'll remember, he thought derisively. You'll remember very soon.
Her eyes met his and all he saw was trust.
You won, Draco, a voice in his head told him. The girl would follow you into a hurricane if you asked her. You won.
She brought her lips toward his and placed them on his mouth softly, firmly. It was the first kiss he ever remembered her initiating. She caressed his lips slowly with her own, winding her hands through his hair, and Draco thought he might die of either absolute self-hatred or absolute pleasure. She leaned into the kiss, and it burned his mouth like some exalted form of torture. He finally responded with his own lips, unable to help himself, and wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her to him. The intensity between them increased and he didn't think he ever wanted anything more than he wanted her in that instant and it was probably the first time in his life he had ever broken away from a kiss before the girl.
But if he continued any further he would hurt her worse than either of them believed possible. He stepped away from her, and she looked intent in the darkness. Moonlight glanced off of her face, and Draco acknowledged that the moonlight had every right to want to be in her eyes.
Hurt her.
The words were like iron in his stomach.
"Do you love me?" he asked her abruptly, shifting his weight as if he were uncomfortable.
"Yes," Hermione said after a short breath. Without a hesitation, without a doubt, without an explanation, without thinking it through as Hermione Granger had analyzed every question she had ever been asked.
Not this one.
Draco laughed. Very softly, very cruelly. Her expression changed ever so slightly. He pulled her close, and she seemed to take comfort in this, sinking against him. God, that almost killed him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear. "It's just that you're so pretty when you cry."
"What?" Hermione asked, voice pleasantly curious.
"You're still a Gryffindor, Granger," he said with a smile as he took her hands in his own. "Still as gullible as ever. When are you going to learn?"
His tone was soft and cajoling. He could have been whispering that he loved her for how sweet he sounded.
"I don't understand," Hermione offered in a simple voice. She was genuinely confused, and that almost killed him too.
"Then why don't I spell it out for you?" Draco asked sweetly, looking into her eyes. "I just played you, Granger, and you were stupid enough to fall for it."
Her face registered confusion and the beginning of disbelief. "Stop joking around, Draco. It isn't funny."
"Aw, that's pathetically cute," Draco sneered softly. "You don't believe me?"
She stared at him hard through the darkness that somehow only seemed to make his expression clearer, more concentrated. It was absolutely mirthless. There was no joke in his eyes.
His hands were still locked around her wrists, and he held onto her ruthlessly. "The famous Hermione Granger just admitted that she loved me . . . do you even know how priceless that is? Potter's best friend, the biggest prude in Hogwarts . . . God, those words were priceless, Granger."
A sneer twisted his features.
"You . . .!" she said disbelievingly. She began to realize in slow motion that he wasn't kidding, and tried to jerk out of his grasp. He merely smirked and backed her up into the tower wall. They stared each other down for a few moments, and finally Hermione spoke calmly and clearly.
"You're good, Draco Malfoy. You're really good, did you know that?"
Draco raised his eyebrows. He had expected yelling or tears, not this eerie calm. Then again, what was he thinking? This was Hermione Granger–she never failed to surprise him.
She continued. "I can't believe how unforgivably stupid I was to fall for your lies."
He was silent.
The last of the disbelief seeped away, and she tried to hit him, but he caught her hand before it reached his face and slammed it back into the wall above her head.
Draco had never lied to her.
She had trusted him with every fiber of her being, like Dumbledore trusted Snape.
He would never hurt her.
She tried to hit him again, but, like a cobra, he grabbed her other hand and slammed it against the wall.
"Why did you do it?" she asked calmly. "Lead me on, I mean."
"Well," Draco started insidiously, more cruelness in his voice than she had heard in weeks, "I have one up on Potter now, don't I? I just seduced his best friend, something even he couldn't manage."
"He would never want to . . . seduce me," Hermione said weakly. She looked shakier.
"Bullshit, Granger. He wants you just as bad as I do. God, wait until I tell the other Slytherins. Potter's little princess fell hard for a Malfoy. You're pitifully trusting, Hermione."
He sneered her first name so sarcastically that she flinched.
"The Veritaserum wasn't real," she deduced, a statement and not a question. Hermione blinked, looking determined not to cry. It was sad and cute, because Draco could tell she wanted to.
He laughed genuinely, as if she had made a joke. "Lord, did you actually . . . think that I loved you?"
Her gasp was quick, soft, almost inaudible. She wondered suddenly if she would ever be able to breathe again. It was the cruelest thing he could have said and Draco knew it.
He looked into her eyes and pushed her harder against the wall. She realized that the torture session had not been adjourned. She tried to pull away once, but then didn't resist. He was too strong, and all the strength had gone out of her. Her eyes seemed blank and glassy as she tried her hardest not to cry.
"Was any of it ever real?" she asked him point blank.
Draco pretended to consider.
"Yeah, I really wanted to fuck you. Still do, actually. I probably should have slept with you and then broken it off, but I just couldn't hide my glee much longer. If I had asked you, you would have shagged me tonight, huh?" he said knowingly, bending his head to look into her eyes. She didn't deny it. "Of course, I could probably just take you against this wall right now. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Her face was blank with shock. Why didn't she struggle?
He shoved his body roughly against hers, trying not to show any emotion. It was bittersweet, being so close to her while she trembled, helpless. He brought his lips down on hers brutally, and felt her head grate against the wall. He kissed her hard enough to bruise, one hand placed firmly around her waist and the one keeping her hands trapped above her head. She convulsed, but he only pressed harder, to make sure she would hate him forever.
At last, she sobbed into his mouth, trying to pull away but failing pathetically. It was a raw, defeated sound.
He stopped kissing her, and felt her entire body shake as she sobbed. There was no space between his body and hers; Draco knew he had really hurt her with his mockery of a kiss. He was still hurting her, his hand digging into her waist and her back grinding against the wall. Her breathing was faint and hitched.
"Get off of me, Draco," she begged softly, and turned her face away. Her voice was about to break and it was the most painful sound he'd ever heard. "Please."
He let her go. She staggered away, trying not to sob, shaking uncontrollably. He knew she didn't have the strength to run away.
"I played you good, didn't I?" he asked, smiling as she cried. "I love how pretty you are when you cry. But c'mon, baby. Mudblood, remember? I would never take you seriously."
"I h-hate you so much," Hermione said between half-sobs. "Now are you done yet, or are you planning an encore? Yeah, you played me good, Draco."
She seemed to falter as she used his first name out of habit. "Do you think I'm going to deny it?" she continued shakily. "To deny that I love you when I just told you that I did?"
"I know you love me," Draco said quietly, raising an eyebrow. "You fell for me just like every other girl in this school, you're no different. Breaking your heart was pathetically easy and that's why I did it. Because all I've ever wanted to do is hurt you as bad and hard as I could."
"You did a really good job," Hermione acknowledged, her lips trembling. She looked totally disarmed. In fact, he had never seen her more vulnerable. She fell to her knees, or rather, they gave out beneath her.
"Get out of here, Granger. Get out of here now before I show you that I really am a Death Eater. Don't come near me ever again or I swear I'll really hurt you."
"As if you haven't?" she asked softly.
"I'm engaged to Pansy Parkinson, by the way. I have been for two months. And you know what? She's really good in bed–probably the best girl I've ever had–so maybe you should ask her for tips or something."
Hermione was crumpled on the ground, and she did not look capable of opening her eyes.
"Get up," he said ruthlessly.
She didn't move.
"Get out of here, Granger, I'm not even kidding."
But then he realized she wasn't going to get up. Not because she didn't want to, but because she was literally not able to.
That was when he understood how bad he had actually hurt her.
Something complicated was happening to her face, and she shook uncontrollably. He got the feeling that she was beyond crying.
The window of the Astronomy tower cracked.
"Get up," he repeated viciously.
Hermione pushed herself up to her knees but then collapsed again soundlessly. Draco took hold of her wrist and jerked her forcefully to her feet. She pushed him away, sobbing.
"Draco . . ."
It was the worst thing he had ever heard. Soft, vulnerable, pleading, raw, desperate, pathetic, God he had to get away.
"Don't beg, Hermione," he told her softly. "It's beneath you."
She shook her head, and without warning smacked him across the face. He reeled back from the exceptionally strong blow, and wondered if maybe she had more strength left than he thought.
"Look at me, Granger," he said with a smirk. She glanced up at him, her eyes so full of pain that he immediately regretted his request. He wanted suddenly, desperately, to erase that face out of his vision.
Then he did something that Hermione believed even below Draco.
His hand came at her in slow motion and at the same time with unbelievable speed. She didn't remember the exact moment his hand connected with her face, just the feeling of shock that came after. She would later compare it to being hit by her best friend, or her father. It was that heartbreaking, and that completely unexpected. It wasn't a brutal slap, or even a very sincere one, but the fact that he had done it erased all of that. She gasped and clutched her cheek shakily. It still hurt more than she had believed possible.
He had hit a girl. Someone weaker than him, who had never, ever been capable of hurting him as bad as he had hurt her.
She watched him, there in the dark, through tear-stained eyes, and swore she saw his face crumple.
Or maybe that was just what she wanted to see.
He ran. He just ran as fast and far as he could, and tried to clear his vision so that he could focus on his next task.
Hermione sat under the stars and suddenly the world came crashing down around her ears.
It was unbelievable to experience the realization that the person she trusted most in the world had never trusted her.
Unimaginable, really, when she came to realize that he was not everything she so solidly knew he was, that perhaps– dare she say it– he had never been trustworthy in the first place.
And the saddest thing of all was that she still loved him, even though he didn't deserve it or even want it.
She had seen this coming. Somewhere, pushed in the back of her brain, she had known it was too good to be true. She had guarded herself emotionally from Draco for so long. Finally, she had come to the realization that she didn't have to be afraid. Of choices, of challenges. Of risks, and romance.
But she had known it was coming.
Definitely.
If she had foreseen this move, then why were sobs racking her whole body, why had her legs collapsed? Why had she been so entirely brain dead?
Did you actually . . . think I loved you?
If Draco wanted to hurt her, he had accomplished it. Those words had seared through her like a mortal wound.
She made an effort to control herself and stopped crying as much as she could. Angrily she dashed the tears from her eyes.
This wasn't Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger didn't sob her heart out over boys.
At that point, sadness was too much for her to handle. It wasn't even characteristic. She refused to cry anymore over . . . Malfoy.
So sadness froze over and created a new, familiar emotion that turned her blood to ice.
Hatred.
I still love him, she thought, but I hate him so, so much more.
she thought,Absolute hatred.
God, it was an ugly feeling. It must have been what Harry felt for Lord Voldemort. She had never hated anyone so much.
Because he represented the side of herself that she hated. He represented her naivety, her unconditional trust, her weaknesses. He had taken her hand and led her like a lamb to slaughter, and she had followed him, believed every little lie, fallen for Draco Malfoy like every other bint in the school. If anything, she had proved to the world that all females were weak. Not even the strong-minded Hermione Granger could resist male charm, and she hated that most of all. She had abandoned her caution for him and he had really gotten her.
She would never let it happen again.
One course of action remained acceptable.
She would have to hurt him as bad as he had hurt her.
Because he deserved it for kissing her and shoving her and Merlin (she raised a hand tenderly to her cheek), had he actually hit her?
Because revenge was so much more dignified than sobbing her heart out like she knew she would.
Because she hated him as much as she had loved him, which was a whole lot. Because the bastard was engaged to Pansy. Because he had slept with her. Because he deserved to die more than anyone she could think of at the moment.
Because no one hurt Hermione Granger and got away with it.
Harry had just finished dancing with Lavender (Ginny was studiously avoiding him) when he noticed Malfoy enter quite abruptly. To Harry's surprise, the Slytherin headed over to him immediately. He looked flushed, out of breath, and a little disheveled. His lips were also slightly swollen. Harry spoke.
"Malfoy, have you seen Herm–"
"Potter, I need to talk to you," Draco said seriously. He looked concerned. "In private, I mean."
"What about?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"It's Hermione," Draco said, without meeting Harry's eyes. "Come outside."
Harry, immediately concerned, followed Draco at a distance out of the hall.
They found themselves walking along the darkened grounds. They failed to see a redhead trailing quietly behind them.
"Spit it out," Harry ordered bluntly.
"It's just that Hermione's run off into the woods! She said something about getting fresh air, but she wasn't acting right. I think she was under the Imperius."
Draco ran a hand through his hair, sickly pale, and let out a hitched breath. He looked really shaken up.
"Well," Harry replied, "we'll just have to look for her. I'll go this way–"
"No," Draco said sharply. "There's dangerous stuff in that forest. We're not splitting up."
"Fine," Harry answered impatiently. He followed Draco into the woods.
"Looking for Hermione?" came a concerned voice from behind them. Harry whirled to find Ron standing there, his eyes blazing. "I'm coming with."
"Alright," Harry said, distracted. He glanced at Malfoy, who was scrutinizing the ground. What a weirdo, Harry thought absently.
"Hey Potter?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think that someday," Draco gaped at the plant life as he walked around, "Hermione might forgive me for everything I've done to her? All these years . . ."
"Forgive you?" Harry asked confusedly. He frowned for a moment, slightly distracted and annoyed. "Malfoy, what are you on about?"
"I just wanted your opinion. I mean, would she forgive me?"
Harry didn't even bother to look back at Draco, but kept his eyes on the forest. "I think she already has."
"What?" Draco asked. He didn't even recognize the Slytherin's voice. "She . . . what . . .?"
"I mean, in a way, she forgives you for everything you've done to her. Forgiveness is an odd thing. Like with me . . . you could jump through hoops, do everything in the world for me, and I would never forgive you. But Hermione? Hermione already has. Love makes you like that, I guess. When you love someone, forgiving them is never out of the question."
Draco looked sickened. Visibly composing himself, he said, "Potter, Weasley, come look at this plant. It's weird."
Harry stooped down next to Malfoy and just had time enough to see an eight pointed blue flower before he felt Draco grab his arm. Suddenly they were spinning uncontrollably through space.
There was a tug at his navel, and darkness swirled around him. He didn't understand what was happening, only that he had been engulfed in a shimmering vortex of blackness. Draco held firmly onto his arm, and he felt the world still. Harry slammed into the ground and crumpled, gasping for air.
"What the . . .?" he heard Malfoy say, and looked up to see the blond boy massaging his head. Ron had also been grounded, but stood up quickly.
They weren't in the woods any longer, but rather on a long, flat plain. Harry straightened his glasses and could scarcely believe his eyes at the sight before him. Mammoth-like stones reared out of the ground, relentless and emphatic in the moonlight.
"Where are we?" asked Harry, with a feeling that he already knew the answer.
"I think . . ." Draco started uncertainly, "Potter, I think we're at Stonehenge."
Hermione, at length, hoisted herself up and left the Astronomy Tower. She deeply regretted losing her composure in front of Draco.
He had kissed her brutally, thoroughly, and she reached up and felt the growing bruises on her lips. All of the kisses with him before that one had come crashing back and he had handled her savagely, icily, as if he had wanted to hurt her.
No.
As if he didn't care whether he hurt her or not. That was so much worse.
She had sobbed. Told him to let her go. Couldn't hold the sobs in. I'm pathetic. Disgraceful.
Hadn't thought to hex him. Hadn't thought to use her wand.
Stupid of me, really, she mused, to think that hitting a girl was above him.
she mused,He had disarmed her emotionally with deadly precision, knowing exactly where to strike to hurt her worst.
Anger and humiliation bubbled within her. Why had she acted so weak? Why hadn't she handled it better?
God, he would pay. Did he really think he could get away with it? She promised herself she would never be weak in front of him again.
Ever.
Someone slammed into her.
"Agh!" With a startled yell, she toppled to the ground. Trying to clear her vision, she looked up to see a proffered hand.
"Miss Granger?" Remus Lupin asked her. "I'm so sorry. I was in a terrible hurry. Merlin, you don't look well. Are you okay?"
"Oh . . . yeah," said Hermione offhandedly, gathering her composure. "Where were you going, Professor?"
Lupin frowned in the darkness. "Harry, Draco, and Ron have disappeared from the school."
He held up a copied version of the Marauder's Map, looking frazzled.
"What? Where have they gone?" Hermione asked immediately.
"I . . . I can't tell you that, Miss Granger. But I'm going after them. I want you to stay here and make sure no one suspicious enters the school. Do you understand?"
"I'm coming with you!" Hermione replied angrily. All she could think was: what has Draco done to my two best friends?
"No," Lupin said sharply. "No, you're not, Miss Granger. I must find an acceptable place to Apparate. Excuse me."
He walked away, quickly buried in the darkness.
A piece of paper fluttered in the wind that hadn't been there before. Hermione picked it up.
"Is that you, Hermione?" came a voice from behind her.
It was Ginny, her crimson gown luminous in the night. She appeared fierce and concerned. "You look like hell. What happened?"
Hermione shook her head dismissively. "Look, Ginny, we've got a problem. Harry, Draco, and Ron have all just disappeared. Professor Lupin ran after them, but I have no idea where they went."
"What?" Ginny asked, her voice ghastly.
Hermione unfolded the scrap of paper.
Starlight shines on the eye.
"This isn't good," Ginny said abruptly, pacing back and forth. "We have to follow them. Where could they have gone . . . what's that?" Ginny asked, taking the piece of paper from Hermione. "'Starlight shines on the eye.' Huh?"
Hermione bit her lip. "Let me see that," she said softly. She grabbed the piece of paper and took out her wand. Tapped it once. Frowned. Tapped it three times. Frowned again. It glowed.
"What are you–"
"It's an anagram," Hermione said simply, looking pleased with herself. "I've been studying these all year. Rearrange the letters, and it spells out something different."
Hermione moved her wand through the air, and bright, fiery letters appeared. Starlight shines on the eye. She began frantically rearranging them, moving some out of the way completely, getting frustrated and beginning again.
Finally she stopped and looked at the phrase in front of her.
"Starlight shines on the eye," she said softly. "Slytherin is at Stonehenge."
"Unbelievable," Ginny remarked. "How did you figure that out?"
"There are tricks to solving anagrams," Hermione said quickly. "I've been doing them a lot for advanced course work. So you think this message has to do with where Lupin went?"
"It's better than nothing," Ginny replied after a moment. "Let's go to Stonehenge."
"Well, it's worth a try," reasoned Hermione. Her tears had almost all dried, but she still felt hollow, weak, feathery, like just one of Draco's breaths would blow her away. "But how do we get there?"
"I know how to Apparate," Ginny told the other girl quietly.
Hermione looked torn. "Hold on, Ginny. I don't really think you should come–"
"I'm going with you or without you," Ginny said fiercely. Then, to curb the harshness, "But preferably with you."
"How do you know how to Apparate? You're not old enough."
"Never mind," said Ginny with a wave of her hand. "Now c'mon, let's get off the grounds."
The two girls set off hurriedly for the Forbidden Forest.
((A.N. Well lots of things have change; next chapter, everyone meets at Stonehenge and things really start to heat up. Review please; it helps the enviornment. ;D))
