It took Hermione two thorough searches through her bookbag to realize she had forgotten her textbook. How could I have been so careless? It's my only morning class.

"Forgotten something?" Theo queried, all feigned innocence.

She glared at him. "My textbook."

"Looks like it's back up to the eagle's nest for you, love," he replied, too cheerfully.

Pursing her lips, she affirmed, "I will be in class, Theodore."

He waved her words away with a knowing smile. "Yes, I'm sure."

"I will."

"Right."

There was no use arguing with Nott when he was being this way, Hermione knew. With a roll of her eyes, she checked the time and decided, "I'd better hurry. See you in class?"

"I'll walk you to Ravenclaw Tower," he offered, setting off with her. Hermione smiled, glad for the company - even if it was bound to be snarky, egotistical company. "Though why anyone would build a dormitory in a tower is still beyond me… too many bloody stairs."

"Am I to assume you're still unhappy in Gryffindor Tower?" she queried, after a pause.

He shrugged, diplomatically answering, "It's very different from Slytherin."

"Yes," she agreed. He seemed unwilling to be any more forthcoming on his own, so she pressed, "But are you happy?"

With a snort of derision, he replied, "I'm not sure I've ever been happy, princess."

Nearly stopping in her tracks, Hermione was taken aback by such a candid answer. "But… never? That's so sad..."

"It was never my destiny to be happy," he explained with a dark laugh, "and don't you go feeling sorry for me, either. I don't think I could stand that."

Unsure what to say, Hermione fell silent, feeling distinctly like he was on the verge of explaining a little more about himself. They climbed two flights of stairs before she finally mustered, "Surely, though, you must have felt happiness at some point in time? Maybe as a young child?"

He seemed only to have been waiting for her to ask, because he promptly launched into the story. "The moment my father learned his sixth son - my older half-brother - had been born, he began to desire a seventh… a powerful son. So he married quickly, and to a proper pureblooded witch, so none could dispute my legitimacy. His new wife – my mother – produced me within the year."

He ran his tongue across the front of his teeth while pretending to examine his fingernails, but Hermione knew better than to take his affected indifference seriously.

"No matter how hard I tried, I was never good enough to please my father," Theo went on. "He had always led a life of pleasure... taking whatever he wanted, sleeping with whomever he desired; he even killed four of his own brothers – and would have offed the others if they hadn't done themselves in, on their own, in a duel."

Scandalized, Hermione could only question, "But why?"

With a dismissive wave of his hand, he explained, "By killing off his brothers, my father could undisputedly collect the entirety of the Nott inheritance, whole and intact."

She shook her head incredulously. "He sounds like a ruthless man."

"He was," Theo agreed as they hastened toward the next staircase. "He waited until I was old enough to show signs of magic before he began killing off the rest of his sons… something the Dark Lord supported him on, during his first reign of power. My sister was born two years after myself - but father never had any interest in females, unless he could bed them. I'm not sure he ever acknowledged her existence."

Morally offended, Hermione exploded, "That's horrible!"

"Yes, I suppose it was," he mused. "But I never knew any different. After my mother passed, my sister ran away. She was frightened of the uncertainty of her future, I think."

Hermione made a noise of sympathy and placed a hand on her unlikely friend's shoulder. He bristled at the contact, but allowed her to keep it there, despite his earlier admonitions not to. "Whatever happened to her? To your sister?"

"Serena," he murmured. "She was too good for this world, always helping lesser creatures like animals and house elves when she knew my father couldn't see. She lives in Spain now, in Cadiz."

"Have you had contact with her at all?"

Slowly, Theo shook his head. "It's better that I don't. She fell in love with a half-blood and they intend to marry. She seems happy."

Hermione fell silent a moment before iterating, "You deserve to be happy, too, Theodore."

He barked out a short laugh. "Nah. I'm not built for happiness - or rather, my happiness would only bring about misery in others. I'm better off like this. In any case, things are certainly better than they were... I don't have a sociopathic father to deal with, nor is the maniac whose feet he condescended to lick, still in power. I have no responsibilities toward any of my family either, as I don't have any left."

"Oh, but…" Hermione began to protest.

"…Not to mention, I'm filthy rich."

She shut her mouth, realizing he had reverted back to his usual snarky self. The staircase upward came to a rest with a dull thud in front of them, but Hermione started up it almost before it had settled, with Theo a half-step behind.

"...So rich I'd be covered in witches if any of them wanted anything to do with a Death Eater's son." He pondered a moment, "You know, I never thought I'd say this, but Longbottom's actually a pretty swell guy. The re-sorting was pretty rough at first, but once I had proven I wasn't there to be a repressed Death Eater clone, Longbottom stood up for me to the others. Goldstein and Cornfoot took a bit to get over it, but they eventually did. He laid down the law, and told them exclusion wasn't how things were done in Gryffindor… not true, of course, as exclusion is how it's done literally everywhere. But it was a decent thing to say."

Swelling with pride for her friend, Hermione stated, "Neville is a good person. He's come a long way since first year."

Theo shrewdly observed, "He makes up for his insecurities by pretending to be incredibly masculine. Still, it could be worse, so a bloke can't complain."

Hermione reflected on this observation for a moment. It made sense that Neville might have some post-war repercussions of his own; he had led a Hogwarts insurrection last year, after all. Besides, he was far from the only one with residual trauma: Draco's anxiety and insomnia, Daphne's bulimia, Harry's nightmares, Pansy's alcoholism, Hermione's own panic attacks… not to mention the hoards of younger students who constantly seemed to be expecting to be attacked. She was sure there were others.

"Speaking of that," Theo remarked to his companion as they turned onto the last staircase to the fifth floor. "What in Merlin's name are you doing to my mate? He never smokes with me and Blaise anymore."

"Good," Hermione snapped, immediately on the defensive. "Maybe he will finally quit that disgusting habit."

"You're crazy, Granger. It keeps him human."

"It's also slowly killing him!" Mentally she added, And probably me, too.

"Relax, you insane witch," he drawled. "If you stop pestering the man about it, he'll begin tinkering with potions and powders to find a substitute. In fact, he eventually finds one – and you'll still complain that it smells, although spicy."

Appeased, she granted, "I'll take spicy."

"I bet you will, you saucy thing."

She swatted him just as they reached the fifth floor landing, then bid, "Go on ahead, I don't want to make you late."

Theo winked, "Have fun."

"I'll see you in Alchemy in a few minutes," she insisted, though in her heart she was conflicted as to whether or not she hoped he was wrong.

"Sure thing, princess," he jibed, heading back down toward their classroom.

Once he was out of sight, she rolled her eyes and made her way to Ravenclaw Tower as quickly as she could, taking the steps two at a time in some places. The end result was that she was somewhat out-of-breath when she reached the top, and met the door-knocker with very little patience.

"Journey without it and you will never prevail, but if you carry too much of it, you will surely fail."

"Bother," she wheezed under her breath.

Just as she attempted to pull her thoughts together to work at the riddle, the door opened from the other side – and out waltzed Luna Lovegood, the door closing behind her.

As she usually did, Luna gave off an air of confidence that made it seem like it was perfectly normal for her to be in an unusual place – though as a Gryffindor, she really should not have been in Ravenclaw Tower at all. "Hello, Hermione. You're going to be late for your class, you know."

This was such a pragmatic greeting from the traditionally dotty girl that for a split-second, Hermione was thrown off. She merely agreed, "Yes. I'm afraid I've forgotten my book."

"Oh, we'll have to answer the riddle again," the other girl said, turning expectantly to the door-knocker.

"Journey without it and you will never prevail, but if you carry too much of it, you will surely fail," repeated the guardian.

"Oh, that's an easy one…" Luna remarked, answering, "confidence!"

"Well thought out," complimented the door-knocker, the entrance swinging open to admit them.

"Thanks," said Hermione, bursting into the mostly deserted common room. To her surprise, Luna followed her in. "Don't you have a class to get to, Luna?"

"Oh no, not until after lunchtime," the former-Ravenclaw answered serenely.

"You know you aren't meant to be in Ravenclaw Tower, right?" Hermione continued as she headed for the girls' dormitory staircase.

Luna shook her head, waves of her dirty blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. "Ravenclaw didn't govern her house by such strict rules as that. Neither did Hufflepuff. If an outsider could be clever enough to make their way in, they were welcome."

Hermione gritted her teeth. She did not have time to argue the point with the strangest of her friends when she was going to be late for class. Without a reply, she bounded up the staircase and flung open the door to her dormitory. She found her textbook in quick order, stuffing it into her bookbag and descending the stair once more.

Luna was still in the common room, now touching the marble hand of Rowena Ravenclaw's beautiful statue with the same familiarity Hermione had once seen her do on another occasion. It was enough to give her pause. "Why do you come here, Luna?"

"Just visiting a friend. Gryffindor Tower is nice, but it's different."

Funny, Theo said the same thing…

She recalled the beginning of term, when Luna had appeared in the Ravenclaw common room to tell her Ron was waiting outside for her. The girl sat down and merely observed the area for a few minutes before making her rounds, greeting the marble statue as she did now, then leaving as if it were perfectly normal. How often had she done that? Softening a moment, Hermione replied, "I had difficulty adapting, too, at first."

Luna smiled knowingly.

Remembering herself, Hermione made her way back to the exit. "I'm going to be late if I don't hurry."

The other girl accompanied her outside and the unlikely duo descended the staircase.

Out of nowhere, Luna queried, "Do you believe in fate, Hermione?"

She opened her mouth to scoff at the query, then promptly shut her jaw with a snap as memories flooded her:

…Her hair was bushy as it had ever been as she flounced from compartment to compartment on the Hogwarts Express, a tear-stained, eleven-year-old Neville Longbottom trailing behind her. With impatience, she slid open the door to the last compartment and was met with two boys about her own age. One was tall with flaming red hair and a smudge of dirt across his long nose; the other was rather small and unhealthily thin with messy, dark hair and broken spectacles.

With fanfare, she put the question to them, "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one…"

…The troll raised its club over its head to bring it down upon her where she crouched below the bathroom sink. She knew in her heart that this would be the death-blow, so she screamed.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Ron cried, pointing his wand at the club. When the troll brought its great, long arms downward without a crash, it blinked stupidly…

…An older Hermione gazed at Harry from where she sat against a tree. Albus Dumbledore's copy of the 'Tales of Beedle the Bard' was open on her lap over a threadbare blanket. The forest was beautiful, but her heart ached with the memory that she had once camped between these magnificent trees with her parents. The lullaby of a nearby river chuckled in the background.

"We could stay here, you know," she told her best friend. "Grow old… stay in hiding…"

…The first rays of sunlight burst over the sills of the windows lining the Great Hall. Rubble clogged the walkways and one of the four long House tables lay in splinters along the far wall. Harry's face was bloodied and dirty, but his green eyes shone with unfathomable courage and an unknown knowledge. He yelled the disarming spell just as Voldemort cast the killing curse. For a moment, the light from their wands locked in a deadly battle – and then, the Elder wand flew from Voldemort's hand, landing gracefully into Harry's. The lifeless body of the Dark Lord hit the floor, his white hands empty, but Harry did not smile…

…It was summer and the chestnut tree beside Ron's bedroom window at the Burrow was in full bloom, boasting white tufts of flowers that promised to blossom soon into nuts that could be gathered and roasted at Christmastime. Hermione stared out from the window, unseeing, at the old stone outhouse in the backyard which the Weasleys had converted into a broom cupboard.

Unbidden, Harry spoke up, "I think I was meant to find you both. I couldn't have defeated Voldemort otherwise… without you."...

It was not without a certain amount of wavering in her voice that Hermione finally answered Luna. "I'm not sure."

The Gryffindor nodded and clarified, "I think there is such a thing, but I also think people consider things to be the product of fate that aren't."

...Hermione was in Ravenclaw's secret study with Draco, who was desperately using a conjured towel to scrub at his hand, covered in the silvery truth-compelling powder. Though he gritted his teeth in annoyance and mild panic, Hermione could not help but notice the beauty of his long, dark-golden eyelashes fringing slate-gray eyes…

…"We can stay here until dawn if that is what you wish," Draco promised in little more than a murmur. They were laid out on the ugly tartan blanket Hermione had found in the store cupboard of her dormitory, while the jar of bluebell flames hovered nearby, casting a blue haze on both their skin. One of his long fingers began to twist around one of her curls…

Before she could become lost in memories, Hermione shook herself and discovered she was blushing slightly. "I'm not sure there's an accurate way to tell if something is fate or not."

Luna seemed to consider this, then deduced, "Perhaps we aren't meant to know. It could put a lot of pressure on a person or a situation if we knew ahead of time that it was significant."

Hermione cracked a small smile, "I suppose you're right."

Mentally, she added, I'd love to introduce you to Theodore. I'm sure the two of you would have a great deal to talk about.

Her feet on auto-pilot, she did not notice they were no longer headed toward the classroom where Alchemy was beginning in only two minutes' time until she swiveled her head around as fast as an owl, realizing she was utterly lost. "Where are we?"

"I assumed you knew," Luna answered airily. "I've just been following you."

She stomped her foot in frustration. "I'm going to be so late!"

"Perhaps just around this corner?" Luna suggested.

Hermione did recognize what was around the corner…

…But it was not what she had been looking for.

Before them, at the end of the short corridor, stood a simple wooden door with a shining gold trim. Luna gasped, her huge blue eyes widening as a smile curved onto her lips. "Oh! I hadn't thought I would ever be here again."

Hermione's head whipped around, "You've been to Ravenclaw's study before?"

"Oh, yes. Have you, too?"

She nodded. This was some news: apparently Luna Lovegood had been inside the secret office before. "I thought it only appeared to Ravenclaws?"

"Perhaps it takes into account that I was a Ravenclaw for six years, even if I'm a Gryffindor now," the other girl puzzled. Her eyes were shining with pure gratitude, which Hermione felt distinctly uncomfortable witnessing. "I didn't think I would ever be back."

"I really need to get to class…" Hermione began, glancing over her shoulder at the relatively known portion of the castle. She would be late regardless if she turned back or not at this point. In the end, it was the excitement on Luna's face coupled with her own curiosity that prompted her to resign herself, sigh deeply, and ask her friend, "Would you like to go first?"

Without hesitation, Luna reached for the door handle, inlaid with gold and emblazoned with ornate eagles. The heavy wooden door opened to reveal the familiar ruinous passageway with its crumbling blocks of stone, cracked and covered in crawling ivy. She stepped in, followed closely by her companion; Hermione could feel the magical signature of the air shift around her. It felt ancient, just as it had the last time.

Their feet slipping under the collection of dust and rubble that coated the stone floors of the castle, they presently came to the second door which Hermione remembered led into Rowena's chambers. It was unremarkable, made of plain wood with rusted hinges. Luna boldly continued forward, unfazed by their unique situation. She unlocked the door with a simple, "Alohomora."

Both girls peered in curiously.

It was almost exactly as Hermione remembered: the polished suit of ancient Indian armor stood in the same place it had the last time she had been there, as did a few of the instruments and most of the swords and battleaxes. However, a few artifacts seemed to have moved; many of the easels were packed away and there were different plants in pots stationed in new locations. While the midnight blue carpet was still littered with interesting objects and crumpled bits of parchment, there were some new keepsakes thrown into the mix.

An enormous strongbox featuring ornate tracery sat unyieldingly by the door. A silver-threaded tapestry Hermione did not recall from her last visit hung on the wall behind the claw-footed desk and seemed to depict a group of veela dancing for a crowd of unsuspecting male victims.

"I don't understand why the room appeared," Hermione wondered aloud as her eyes were overwhelmed with minute details. "I've only been here once before."

"You must have a need of some of information that's inside."

"Is that why it appears?"

"Oh, yes. Ravenclaws thrive in environments where existing knowledge is freely shared. That way, more information can be learned instead of basic knowledge having to be rediscovered." Luna paused to examine a flowerpot on a nearby table, which boasted a few bright orange flowers with actual flames rising in tiny fires from their stamens. "The bookshelves draw information from the Stacks, too."

Astounded, Hermione wanted to know, "When did you come here before?"

"Twice. Once in third year, then again in sixth."

"Why did the room present itself to you?"

"I'm fascinated with Rowena, herself," Luna explained. "I've been collecting information about her for years; I read all her published works, looked over her correspondence. This office allowed me to peruse her journals."

"I had no idea."

"I've always felt she was like a friend," she volunteered, "especially before I had any."

Shifting somewhat uncomfortably, Hermione asked, "Is that why you visit her statue in Ravenclaw Tower?"

Luna nodded.

Satisfied, Hermione glanced from the window. There were larch trees stretching back as far as the eye could see – an enormous copse that certainly was not standing in her own era. Noticing that the window was cracked open, she went to it and took a deep breath. Even the air smelled different here.

"And here is Carissime's roost," Luna observed, placing her hand on a gigantic, carved perch as tall as Hermione's shoulders. She was shocked she had not noticed it before, given its size.

"Who... and what… is Carissime?" Hermione wanted to know. She bent closer to observe the enormous pedestal, only to recoil when she realized there was half a fresh rabbit still in the tray beneath, its entrails dangling from what remained of the animal.

"Rowena's familiar," the former-Ravenclaw explained, not at all repulsed by what appeared to have been half a meal. "She's a golden eagle."

"That explains the mascot," Hermione deduced, her eyes wandering to a stack of locked books that tilted upward from Rowena's desk. "I've always wondered. It doesn't say anything about it in Hogwarts: A History."

Following her companion's gaze, Luna wondered aloud, "What is it you're looking for?"

"I'm not sure," she replied honestly.

Luna only nodded and tied her long hair back, tucking her wand behind her ear for safe-keeping. "Let's get started looking then, so you can find out what it is sooner."

Hermione did not even try to pick apart the logic of this; she was merely grateful for the help – though she was still upset she would be missing the second-to-last Alchemy class before break. Nevertheless, she rolled up her sleeves and wondered where to start. She glanced over at Luna, who was looking at her expectantly, as if waiting for instruction. Before Hermione knew it, the story of finding the instructions for the mandala was coming out – although she strategically left out the part about who she had partnered with – and the ongoing dilemma about finding a way out. If Luna found it odd that she neglected to mention her partner-in-crime's name, she did not comment on it, and Hermione was grateful.

She began to poke around, noting that the truth-compelling powder was no longer in the cauldron by the corner cabinets full of potions ingredients. Instead, something greenish-blue that smelled like freshly-cut grass swirled counterclockwise of its own accord. Curious, Hermione tried to read the recipe on the nearby music stand to determine what the mysterious potion was, but the entire recipe was in French and she could not make it out.

I'm glad I took some of the powder when I had the chance, she reflected, thinking of the little vial secretly tucked away in her trunk, hidden inside one of her socks. Given Luna's theory that this office only appears when there is need of it, does that mean I was meant to find it?

It was an interesting notion. A compelling feeling settled in her lungs, pushing its way up her throat and causing her to swallow heavily.

…Does that mean Draco was also meant to find Ravenclaw and Slytherin's alchemy journal?

The thought caused an intriguing, heavy sensation to settle in her chest.

Do you believe in fate, Hermione?

Her heart began to beat somewhat faster.

Perhaps… if I was meant to be here… She closed her eyes and pulled a book randomly off the nearest shelf, opening it to the first page it fell to. Opening her eyes, the page described the use of fairies in mandalas. They did not have a strong enough magical signature to affect the result of a mandala, but were sometimes used by experienced alchemists to lend the magic some additional power.

Her heart beat even faster. This cannot be coincidence…

"I found something interesting, Hermione," Luna announced from the other side of the room.

Tucking the book she had found under her arm, Hermione crossed the room to her companion. Luna was holding an enormous tome bound in brain-tanned leather; some of the pages appeared to fold outward to show larger sketches. She leaned over the page of the open book in Luna's lap, but recoiled as quickly as she had upon discovering Carissime's half-eaten dinner. "Is that kamasutra?"

Head tilted to the side with intrigue, Luna wondered, "What is kamasutra?"

Hermione could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "That, I think."

Luna examined the drawing of two women engaged in mutual carnal pleasures closely, and with a serene, almost clinical attitude. "If you mean it is a book about erotic rituals, then yes, I believe that is what this is."

Sweet Circe. This was not a conversation Hermione had ever imagined having with Luna Lovegood, of all people. "While that's fine that you consider that interesting, I'm not sure that book will help me."

Yet at the same time, the words from the letter she had received less than two hours ago burned in the back of her mind: You must remember, sex is a sacred act – a gateway – capable of reminding us that our bodies are vessels of immense power, and love.

She could feel her blush deepening.

It can't hurt to look through the book... just in case?

She was sure she was as red as a tomato. Still, she murmured, "I suppose it might be useful. I can't imagine why Ravenclaw had this book, though. Surely it was very progressive for the 1100s…"

"I think Rowena preferred the company of women in her bed," Luna put in matter-of-factly.

Taken aback, Hermione queried, "Really?"

The Gryffindor nodded, her radish earrings bobbing as her head moved. "There is sufficient evidence in her journals to indicate it, though as far as I have read, she never openly says so."

As Luna turned the page, a small scrap of parchment fell out and fluttered to the floor; Hermione bent to pick it up. It appeared to have been torn off of a larger sheaf at a crooked angle, as if in haste. The letters seemed to be in Rowena's own hand, and merely spelled out two words…

"Dedico Templum," Hermione read aloud.

As if it had been a password, a ladder descended from the ceiling. The girls' eyes followed it upward where it disappeared into a small trapdoor in the ceiling, the beyond of which was completely dark.

Both were silent for a long moment, staring at the new appearance in their midst. Finally, in a hushed voice, Luna encouraged, "I think you are meant to go up there."

Hermione squared her shoulders, her back ramrod straight with engineered bravado. In truth, she was nervous – but her inner Gryffindor would not allow her to give in to that weakness.

The ladder was made of a highly polished wood, which made the knots in it feel rougher under her hands as she climbed. When she got to the top of the ladder, she paused a moment. The chamber above was still completely dark.

"Something wrong?" her companion wondered from below. The book of erotic rituals was open to a very suggestive page of drawings in front of her, but was completely ignored for the moment.

"Nothing." It would have been too difficult to try to explain the overwhelming feeling that she was about to enter an extremely private place. With one mighty heave, Hermione pushed herself upward into the unknown.

It was less like entering a bedchamber and more like intruding upon a sanctuary. Tree boughs and vines twisted throughout the low dome of the walls and ceiling; Hermione felt as if she were no longer in Hogwarts castle, but rather in a clearing of some enchanted forest. In fact, she would not have been the least surprised if a unicorn had ambled through – though she had certainly had enough of unicorns to last a lifetime.

Twinkling throughout the room were actual live fairies, too numerous to count. These seemed to glitter in the boughs, flickering on and off like the lights of a strange and distant city. They appeared to shine all the brighter when they realized there was now a witness to their beauty, being creatures of natural vanity. Bolts of bronze-threaded samite were draped over some of the larger boughs, giving Rowena's bower a heavy sort of silence, shrouding the room in secrets. Hermione tried to place it and realized it was the same sort of monastery-like quietude that characterized the Stacks. Given Luna's revelation that the Stacks were somehow connected to Rowena's study, this did not surprise her. Regardless, the place had a very queer aura, as if she had entered a cocoon of significance.

The strangest thing about the chamber was how different it was from the study beneath her. Below was the sort of place Hermione would have expected to belong to Ravenclaw: covered in books, artifacts and extravagant furniture. It was a place for a creative genius to tinker with things that interested them, dealing mainly in history and theories. This loft-like space, however, was devoid of any furniture whatsoever. Besides the veritable forest that covered the walls and ceiling in nature, the only other thing in the small room was a pile of luxurious furs and pelts on the floor that seemed to act as a bed, somehow both queenly and also primitive.

Hermione bent to examine the furs and quickly realized the floor beneath was in fact made of grass. Curious, she bent to pick at the ground and discovered she was indeed walking on grass and dirt. Small blue flowers barely half the size of a knut dotted the forest floor throughout.

Amazed, her eyes raked over the ground below her when something else caught her eye. Getting down on her hands and knees, Hermione brushed aside the luxurious pelt of sable fur nearest her that edged the sleeping area. She let out an audible gasp and lifted the next pelt – a silky, silvery fur that might have belonged to a demiguise at one point – and then the next.

She was not mistaken. Beneath the sumptuous collection of furs that acted as a bed, was a very distinct mandala drawn over the grass of the floor.

.

.

Author's Note: Ooh, the plot thickens... and in a nice, long chapter, too. Please forgive any mistakes you might have found in this installment, as I did not use a beta on it.

As always, I want to say a quick thanks to everyone who took the time to leave a comment in the little box below. Those people are superb.