WHAT THE DARK LORD WANTS

Hermione was stunned at his words.

The...The Dark Lord...

The Dark Lord...wants…

What?

She renewed her struggling with earnest.

"Nott, we can get them another way," Malfoy hissed. "It was a pointless idea doing it like this. Not only are we within full view of Gryffindor Tower where anyone could see us, but Potter and Weasel could go on a different path, or they could stay at the oaf's cabin for hours, or a teacher could come along at any minute. Add to that, you were stupid enough to let her bag out of your sight—now someone's going to see the books strewn everywhere and know something's up!"

"Right, because a teacher is the worst of your troubles, isn't it, Malfoy? Or is the Dark Lord? Your fool of a father screwed up pretty bad in June, didn't he? I bet the Dark Lord's just itching to get his wand trained on him. What good would your name be to the purebloods, then? You'd be worse off than her," said Nott furiously, jerking his head at Hermione.

She stopped struggling to listen better to Malfoy's reply.

"You don't think I know what's going on?" said Malfoy in a dangerously low voice. "My family's closer to the Dark Lord than yours will ever be, Nott. If he does anything to us, it won't be near as bad as what he'd do to your family once your father messes up. You're nothing to him, and he knows it."

Hermione stared at Malfoy, remembering what he had said to Harry on the train.

"...You haven't had to fight off the Imperius every night of your childhood. You've never even been inside of a Death Eater's house, let alone had to live alongside the Dark Arts every day. You've seen the Dark Lord once every year—so what? I've lived with him! You think you know everything just because he's tried to kill you once or twice… But you haven't seen half the stuff I have, or heard half the things I've heard, and if you knew so much as an ounce of what I know..."

And then she realized it. He's scared. He's completely frightened about what will happen. If his father makes another mistake, Voldemort will probably kill Lucius, and Narcissa, and Draco...

She suddenly noticed how pale Malfoy looked—he was much whiter than she'd ever seen him. There were faint shadows under his eyes, possibly darker ones that were covered with a Glamour Charm. And there was something about his eyes. They looked lighter, more gaunt, like he lay awake every single night since June, worried about what was going to happen.

And not for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger felt sorry for Draco Malfoy.


Ron and Harry were arguing about the upcoming Quidditch match as they came up the path, when Ron noticed an empty bag and a bunch of books spread across the way.

"Hey, these're Hermione's," said Ron, picking some up.

"So?" grunted Harry. He didn't stop.

Ron glared over at him, then something inside him snapped. "Hagrid's right, you prat. This isn't like before. We're in the middle of a war, can't you just grow up?"

Harry blinked.

"And since when does Hermione just leave her books in the mud anyway? Could you just stop blaming her for one second and help me pick them up?" snapped Ron. "She wouldn't want them...you know...muddy."

He was beyond annoyed at Hermione for her treatment of him and Harry. But beyond the annoyance was a growing feeling of dread.

Harry sighed irritably. "Fine then. How in Merlin's name d'you know they're her books anyhow? Have them memorized, do you?"

"No, Harry." Ron held them up. "Who else would be daft enough to take N.E.W.T. Transfiguration, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions?"

Harry snorted, then furrowed his brow. "But why would she leave them on the…?"

He trailed off suddenly and picked up Hermione's wand off the ground.

They looked at each other and the full implications of what was going on hit them. Fear had barely enough time to settle in Ron's heart as they dropped the books and sprinted up the path, heading towards the sounds of a scuffle—

He didn't know what he expected to see when they rounded the last bend, but Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott pointing their wands at each other certainly wasn't it.

"Ron! Ha—!" Hermione started, but her mouth was quickly covered by the Slytherin holding her.

Ron's and Harry's wands were out before they knew what was happening.

Malfoy heard Hermione's shout and turned towards them. Nott threw a curse at Malfoy once he had his back turned, and Harry, thinking that Nott was cursing them, shouted a hex not a moment after. Malfoy dropped to the ground in record time as the spells ricocheted off each other.

And headed straight towards Ron.

He barely had time to duck.


The next ten minutes were a blur to Hermione.

Spells were being shouted back and forth, and Harry and Ron didn't even notice in the confusion that not all the Slytherins' spells were going to them. They both hated Malfoy so much that it didn't even occur to them that the Slytherin's own house would hate him almost as much.

Hermione, meanwhile, was being used as a corporeal Shield Charm as Urquehart cowered behind her, peeking out every so often to shoot a spell in Harry and Ron's direction. The boys knew better than to throw a curse his way, however, and focused their attention on the other three Slytherins. All she could do, then, was watch and, although not eager to join in the battle considering what happened last time she had thrown a hex, wish that she had her wand on her.

Wand? said that voice in her head again. You were raised by Muggles, weren't you? They don't have wands to defend themselves. They use good, old-fashioned common self-defense. You don't need a wand...you just want one.

It was then that she remembered something her father taught her a few years ago—how to get out of a captor's hold in sticky situations. The current situation couldn't have been stickier.

"Ohhh, I hope this works!" she moaned.

Then with tightly-closed eyes and a grimace, she slammed her head back into the Slytherin's with as much force as she could muster. He swore loudly. Blinking stars away, and using his momentary dizziness to her advantage, she brought her elbow down hard right into his—

—his yelp of pain brought a momentary end to the dueling as Harry, Ron, Malfoy, Nott, and Wilkes all swiveled around. In the guffawing that followed, none of them noticed Professor McGonagall striding towards them until it was too late.

As it was, things could have turned out a lot worse.

After McGonagall had shouted herself hoarse (words like "I've never—" and "—in all my career—" could be heard several times in her speech), she took thirty-five points off each of them for their "abysmally stunning disregard for the rules".

"But they had Hermione—" Ron roared.

"—and they shot at us first," finished Harry.

"Liars," muttered Nott.

Since Hermione had been without a wand during the duel, and thus unable to partake of the chaotic spell-shooting, she got off scot-free. Harry and Ron couldn't begrudge her this, since this also meant Gryffindor lost only seventy points, while Slytherin was taken down one hundred forty. As well, all six boys were facing detention for weeks to come. Nott, Wilkes, and Urquehart would be with Professor Snape, and Malfoy curled his lip in disgust when he heard he was to do his with Professor Lupin. Harry and Ron were pleased to find they'd be doing theirs with Professor Jones.

But nothing was better than having Ron and Harry speak to her again.

As soon as they were shot of McGonagall, he asked where she had learned to do the "head-butting and elbow jabby thing".

There was no need to apologize or hug awkwardly. Instead, they just jumped right into conversation, their quarrel forgotten between them, and neither noticing Harry's smirk.

And in all her euphoria about having Ron speak to her again, Hermione rather forgot to tell them about what Malfoy had said.


If Harry and Ron thought Professor Jones would go easy on them, they were dead wrong. Her silence was stony as they served their detention with her (scrubbing the scorch marks off the walls of the Defense classroom). And in their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson in October she strode into the room, tight-lipped with fury.

The class grew quiet. She sighed and started pacing in front of the room.

"As students in Hogwarts, your teachers can only protect you from so much," she said finally after a minute of silence. "But we can not protect you from each other."

Alarmed, each of the students looked around doggedly.

"As you well know, a fight erupted on Hogwarts grounds the other day," she said, turning to face them. "A fight. Between one House and another. Can anyone tell me what is wrong with that picture in light of what we are facing today?"

No one moved.

"The other week, I was alerted that there were three students who had been attacked on the train, before the Death Eater attack had even happened," she continued. "It was also drawn to my attention that several members of one of your Houses ambushed another student on the train with the intent of harming him…simply because he belonged to a different House."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and several of the D.A. members looked at each other. Malfoy stiffened and he glowered at their teacher, as if daring her to name him as one who was attacked. Ron, as well, turned faintly red and squared his shoulders.

She continued, "Whether they were provoked or not, it doesn't matter; whether they started the fight or not, it still doesn't matter. What matters is that there are among you several who would wish to harm you to the point of drawing their wands and taking the power of your life into their hands. Does anyone see something wrong with that?"

Nearly all of their hands went up, although a few Slytherins in the back, Harry saw, did not move a muscle.

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't suppose you would take kindly to being forced to do something by someone you don't trust simply because they flicked their wand?" she asked.

Malfoy shook his head sullenly.

"And Mr. Potter, if someone tried to make you do something that went against your character, what would you do?"

"Er…I'd defend myself," said Harry.

"Precisely," said Professor Jones. "You would defend yourself. And you will be taught to defend yourself. As wrong as it is to attack others, as wrong as it is to make someone do something regardless of their will, as wrong as it is to commit a crime out of hate or revenge...it is not wrong to protect yourself. I am furious that these fights and attacks were started, and that some among you feel the need to harm others because they are different than you. But I am proud of the ones who can defend themselves, because they are the ones who will be left standing when this war is over with.

"Now," she continued, rubbing her hands together. "You all know the importance of defensive spells, as you were taught last year. But in a fight, you cannot only use defensive spells. Why is that, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron looked up, startled. "Well…because then, you'd…er…be fighting against yourself, wouldn't you? I mean, if no one's trying to attack you, and…well…you're trying to defend yourself…then the only offender would be…well, you."

She raised a brow. "Very good. Five points to Gryffindor. He is exactly right, class. Repeat after me—the best defense is a good offense."

A hand raised after this was said and scribbled down in their notes.

"Yes, Miss Brown?"

"But...I thought offense was always a bad thing?" said Lavender. "It's never good to point your wand at someone and make them do something, isn't that what you said? So how can it be good sometimes but not others?"

Jones looked around the room. "Well? Is there anyone who'd like to answer that question?"

Surprisingly, it was Malfoy who spoke. "Success in battle always rests on diminishing your adversary's best weapon—leaving them weak, defenseless, and without means of an attack against you," he said, almost bored. "You can't do that if all you're doing is setting up a Shield Charm around yourself."

"Five points to Slytherin for your insight," Jones appraised. "Does that answer your question, Miss Brown? To unwand an opponent—or to strike them so they cannot move to attack you again—usually requires the deficit for a counter-offensive. Now. This year after we've covered the sufficient defensive stances, I will be teaching you how to fight offensively. Not to use against other students. Not to use against your friends. Not to use, especially, against your teachers—"

There was a slight chuckle at this.

"But for you to be prepared. If the situation were ever to arise when your family or your friends are in danger of being killed and it is up to you to stop their attackers—would you do it? Could you do it? Fight off a Death Eater twice your age with twice the knowledge and experience…could you win? Because if you were to lose…believe me, it wouldn't be a twenty-point loss for your House. It would be your life. Your life and the lives of your friends and family who are depending on you.

"This," she stated, looking around at them all, "is why you are taught Defense Against the Dark Arts."


Professor Jones' pronouncement stuck with Harry for the rest of that week. He hardly heard the conversation at dinner when he got another summons from the Headmaster about an Occlumency lesson that night ("Why tonight and not Sunday?" asked Ron, but Harry just shrugged), and when Ron asked if Harry wanted to go to the Quidditch field before the lesson, since it was a Friday night, Harry just shook his head and went for a walk.

How long he had walked, he had no clue. When he found himself on the top of the Astronomy Tower, he realized by the innumerable stars out that it was quite late and he still had another Occlumency meeting with Dumbledore to get to. Wishing he had his Cloak with him, he turned around and hurried back down the tower.

Harry had just reached the foot of the tower stairs when he heard voices.

He slowed down and peered around the corner. Professors Snape and Jones were standing three feet apart, eyes fixated on each other, faces contorted into scowls.

"Do not tell me how to teach my students, Severus," Jones was saying. "Learning offensive and defensive spells for the first time is detrimental to the students doing it non-verbally because it can severely be messed up! Do you want them to fail?"

"If they weren't such dunderheads, you wouldn't have a problem. I distinctly remember learning offensive spells without the handicap you're giving them. If you didn't constantly baby them with every step, they might actually learn something!" said Snape.

"Learn something?" she said, voice getting dangerously low. "Because you did not just have only three students graduate last year with an 'Outstanding', as Minerva so kindly pointed out to me. I've already told you, I will teach them how to do it non-verbally once they've mastered it verbally. Albus and Remus have both agreed this is the best solution—"

"And receiving the advice from a werewolf weighs better on your conscience than receiving it from me?" he sneered. "Perhaps you should rethink your teaching skills, if that is the case—"

"And what do you think you could teach me about Defense Against the Dark Arts that I don't know already? In case you've forgotten, Severus, I was actually fighting against them during the last war, not fighting for them. I wish I could say the same about you!" she said haughtily, then turned on her heel and left.

Harry pulled his head back in, and tried to make himself scarce, but Snape spotted him first.

"Potter!" he barked. "Having a little midnight eavesdrop, are we?"

"I was just going to Dumbledore's office—"

"I can tell you now it's a waste of Professor Dumbledore's time. You're too foolish and arrogant to be taught anything."

Heat rose to Harry's face, but he bit back a retort. "Look, I have a slip of permission to be out, so if you—"

"Permission? I have no doubt, as the Headmaster seems very keen on giving you anything you want. You will excuse me for not falling in so easily to your snares..."

"I'm NOT ensnaring anyone!" Harry finally shouted.

"Detention," said Snape silkily, "For yelling at a teacher. See me next Sunday at nine. You are dismissed."

Harry stood there, silently fuming, long after Snape had left before stomping up to the tower. At the rate he was going, he was going to have detentions every day from now until the end of the year.


"Ron?"

"Hmm?"

"I…"

For probably the first time in her life, Hermione was at a loss for words.

"Nevermind," she quietly murmured, giving up. Going back to the scrolls in front of her, Hermione continued her Ancient Runes homework.

They both sat by the fire in the common room doing their homework quietly. They were both waiting up for Harry to come back from his lesson with Professor Dumbledore. But things had never been more awkward.

She felt Ron's gaze on her, but did not meet his eyes. Things were quite...subdued...between them, as of late. Like...they weren't quite sure how to talk to each other. Like something had changed between the two of them.

Only...neither of them had any idea what.

Her quill paused in its scratching, as she debated telling him again. Then, thinking better of it yet again, she went back to finishing her sentence.

A minute later, and Hermione stopped writing. He really did need to know. Now was a better time than most. They didn't have Harry with them, and everyone else in the common room had already gone to bed. He wasn't mad at her, she wasn't mad at him. They weren't currently talking about anything else...they were both just quietly doing their homework.

She should tell him.

I should tell him, I should tell him, I should tell him.

"All right, I'm listening."

Hermioned's head jerked up. Ron had put down his homework and slid on the floor next to her. He was giving her his full attention, eye contact, and everything. Did she mutter her thoughts aloud?

"What do you…"

"Please, Hermione, I've known you for six years now. I know when you have something you need to say. You stop concentrating on your work, for one. You bite your lip for another, as if stopping yourself from speaking. And I could tell you keep looking at me when you think I'm not paying attention. You're making me think I have dirt on my nose again…" said Ron ruefully.

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at the reminder to their first meeting so many years ago.

And looking up at him, Hermione wondered about how close he was to her, how handsome he was, how warm and soft his features were in the firelight. It danced across the side of his face, while the other side was tinged much darker in the shade. But as red as his hair was, falling into his eyes as it usually did, and as red as the fire's glow was, it did nothing but bring out the blue in his eyes even more.

Which were staring at her with such ferocious intensity that she blushed and wondered what he would do...say...feel...if she just kissed him right now.

Suddenly she was all too aware of every movement his body made. Every breath she took, every raised hair on her arms, every exhale she made, and should she move closer...

He fidgeted, drawing closer to her as well, as if he could sense the electrifying thoughts emitting from her.

Did he want to kiss her too?

Hermione.

Get a grip...please…

She shook her head at her thoughts, not wanting to listen. Not wanting to admit the truth. She just wanted to be lost in this blissful state of electrifying emotions with Ron forever. Wanting to kiss him, but wanting him to make the first move. Only caring about whether he fancied her or not.

Because the reality was, there were far more important things than their love life.

Kissing him...telling him your feelings...they aren't important anymore. Not nearly as important as…

Voldemort.

The smile died on her face when she remembered what she had to tell him.

And it was with this pronouncement that she had to make that Hermione decided then and there never to bring up her thoughts on Professor Jones being untrustworthy again. Never to tarnish her friendship with Ron, for fear of him and Harry blowing up at her again. They meant far more to her than she could ever realize, and she just couldn't take it if Voldemort succeeded.

If Voldemort took Ron.

"You're right, I've been wondering if now...is the best time...to tell you something...something I...something I heard…" she stumbled out, eyes fixated on her fingers.

She didn't look up at his face, but his body grew still as he watched her. At her avoidance of his eyes. At her fixation on fingering her quill. At her flushed face. At Hermione Jean Granger, greatest wordsmith at Hogwarts, stumbling over her words.

"Well," Ron said, drawing out the word. "I can tell it's not going to be very pleasant. Might as well just spit it out then, and get it over with."

"When the Slytherins had me...before you and Harry got there…."

She measured each word carefully before it left her mouth, still unsure of the wording. Obviously, if she said it too callously, then Ron would act callous about it. But if she treated it like a bigger deal than it probably was, Ron might have a hard time with it….after all, it was about him….

And then, in a rather un-Hermione-like way, she just spilled it out, unmeasured, uncut, blurting out words and sentences and they fell unbidden before her.

And that was how Ron found out that Voldemort was after them.


Harry's bad mood soured and hung with him throughout his Occlumency lesson with Dumbledore. He didn't know how much until—

"Harry, concentrate," said Dumbledore. "Legilimens!"

At once, Harry enforced the barriers around his mind. Dumbledore's probing thoughts jabbed into his walls, but Harry didn't flinch. He knew that the Headmaster had not been holding back at all during their lessons—Voldemort, after all, attacked his opponents' and servants' minds like Hermione attacked books. Harry was quite accustomed to not expecting a polite knocking on Dumbledore's end.

Eyes shut tight, Harry waited for Dumbledore to attack harder, but he said instead, "Harry...I am finished..."

Harry opened his eyes. "But...sir...I hardly felt you. Don't you think you should try harder?"

"You do not understand, Harry. I did everything in my power to enter your mind," said Dumbledore. He sunk into his chair again, shoulders sagging, breathing hard, and holding a stitch in his side. But he was beaming. "I have taught you well. There were no windows, no openings, your walls were tightly sealed, you have layered brick upon brick to strengthen your barrier. All I could see was a wall of bricks not unlike Platform 9 ¾. I simply could not enter...and I am very proud of you in your accomplishment."

"So...really? I—I'm done?" said Harry.

"Yes. You are now an accomplished Occlumens."

Harry found himself grinning. For the first time that week, he'd finally done something right.

With a buoyancy in his step and a whistle on his lips, Harry let himself into the Common Room that night to see that Ron and Hermione had waited up for him.

They both faced the fireplace sitting in their customary seats. But while Hermione was perched on the edge of the couch with her head in her hands, Ron was standing and leaning against the edge of the mantle, staring into the fire moodily.

The whistle died on Harry's lips when he saw the grave looks on their faces.

"What is it?" he asked them as he neared the fire.

There were only a few other stragglers in the room catching up on homework before they retired to bed. Ron and Hermione both avoided his eyes.

Harry feared the worst. "Who died?"

"No one," Hermione answered quickly. "It's just...Harry, I...I overheard something. When Nott and the rest of them grabbed me…"

She went in depth into everything she had heard Nott and Malfoy say to each other, postulating her own theories onto their actions.

But then she said something that made his blood freeze in his body, made his movements slow and sluggish, made his lungs stop working and suspend in animation.

"Harry...he said Voldemort...wants...me. Me and...and Ron."

Harry ripped his eyes from her and looked at Ron. Ron didn't look up from his shoelaces, oddly fixated on them.

"It makes sense," Ron grunted. "Probably just wants us so he can get to you. You're too well-protected, obviously. So I guess he figures if he can get us, you'd go off gallivanting again just like you did when you thought he had Sirius. Perfect way to lure you out of the castle, isn't it?"

A daunting quiet fell over them.

"Harry...if anything happens to us...you can't—"

"I would," Harry finally spoke, his words wooden in his mouth. "He knows it."

"Harry, you can't—"

"If Voldemort took you, Hermione, we couldn't not go after you," Ron said loudly. "There's no one who could stop us. We won't lose you."

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, and in that moment Harry was incredibly grateful for his best friend. Ron understood. He knew. He felt the same way.

Ron abruptly started pacing. "This all makes sense, you know. This is why the Slytherins grabbed me and wouldn't let me go during the train ride. Probably trying to hold onto me till the Death Eaters got there. This is why the Death Eaters went after us during the attack on the train. And that one...the one that tortured us...he wasn't trying to kill us. Granted he took a hell of a lot of satisfaction inflicting pain, but…"

"But until you came to save us, Harry… who knows what he was planning?" Hermione finished softly. "They could have planned that attack on the train trying to get us, and as soon as we left the train they hunted us down. That Death Eater...he had Ron and me. He could have taken us then and there if...if you hadn't stopped him…"

"That...that whole...Death Eater attack...was...was for you?" Harry whispered mutely.

All of a sudden, he couldn't breathe.

He walked to the window, his back to his friends, taking deep breaths before the tears boiling up inside him threatened to spill out. He didn't want them to notice—didn't want them to see—

"So what, were Malfoy, Nott, and them just trying to do their dads' dirty deeds the other day? When they grabbed Hermione?" Ron continued savagely.

"Actually, Malfoy didn't seem all that interested in what Nott was planning," Hermione broke in, matter-of-factly. "In fact, he didn't approve. It was almost as if he...he didn't want it to happen…"

"Oh, don't you defend him!" Ron roared suddenly. "He doesn't deserve your pity, Hermione!"

The last of the stragglers squeaked in alarm and took off up the stairs.

Ron seemed to realize his anger was getting the better of him and ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm down. He continued in anguish, "What about my family? What about Ginny? Is it just Hermione and me Voldemort wants, then? Or is it everyone you've ever been close to, Harry? Neville? Luna?"

Harry's eyes shut in pain. Everyone…

He turned around and faced them. His voice came out with way more confidence than he felt. But Ron and Hermione sat up straighter for it.

"We need to tell Dumbledore. We need to get your families to safety. We need to take more measures that both of you are safe. We need to find out what Voldemort's planning. We need to know...we have to find out...what the Dark Lord wants."


Author's Note:

So now they know! What do you think they will do with this information? When will they tell Dumbledore? What would you like to see happen? I can always add more scenes to the chapters I've written before updating if you'd like to see more of a certain character, find out what's going on behind the scenes, want someone's point of view for what's already happened, etc.

Please let me know!

The more reviews I get, the faster I can update!