There is always a bright side to every situation.

Hermione remembers her mother telling her this when she was younger, eleven or twelve and newly inducted into her life as a witch. She had been excited, of course, who wouldn't be? However, she had also felt egregiously underprepared and remedial. Her mother had tried to assuage her anxiety by speaking about silver linings.

Hermione recalls this memory now.

The bright side is this: Ginny doesn't speak to her about her issues with Harry anymore.

The not-so-bright-side?

It's because Ginny isn't speaking to her at all.

The events that transpired at Voldy's Drop was a thing of legend around the school in the next three weeks. People looked at her the same way people often looked at Harry - with admiration.

She would walk through the corridors and students she hadn't even met would cup her shoulder as she walked by, offering her a congratulatory smile. In class people would stare at her like they wanted to ask her questions about her jump but didn't dare breathe a word of it within earshot of the professors.

The attention was beginning to grate on her nerves.

She was happy to find that eventually all of the excitement had given way to anxiety. It had been weeks since any of the graduating class had heard anything about Panic and the anticipation was building. There was an air of uncertainty swirling around that was nearly tangible and Hermione could feel that it was about to reach a breaking point.

She was trying her best to enjoy the sunny Saturday afternoon with Harry and Ron in the courtyard. It was so rare in Scotland to have such beautiful weather, even as spring bled steadily into summer. It seemed most of the students had the same idea, the school grounds swarmed by groups of her peers in shorts and light t-shirts enjoying their day off.

The rays of sunshine shattered on the crests of the small waves on the lake, creating a glittering effect that made the general splendour of Hogwarts seem even more magical than usual.

It was the first time in days that she had seen Harry. So unusual after all of these years of constantly being in each others presence, especially after the year of essentially living on top of one another in a tent. She understood that in Ginny's mind Hermione was currently public enemy number one, therefore putting Harry in an uncomfortable situation - but his absence from her life was glaringly obvious.

Hermione can picture Ginny's face with perfect clarity as Hermione had waded out of the Black Lake.

Betrayal.

"Bloody brilliant, it was." Ron was telling her for approximately the millionth time how 'bloody brilliant' she was at Voldy's Drop, and for approximately the nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-ninth time she was actively ignoring him. "Not that I should be so happy for you, you put us all to shame, points wise - but Merlin, absolutely incredible."

"Ron, we were all there." She says, idly closing her eyes against the rays of the sun.

"Bloody right we were."

"Really Hermione, you were quite a sight up there." It's the first kind word Harry has spoken to her since right after her jump and he'd offered her his sweater to ward off the chill of the evening. She'd seen Ginny glare at him and stomp off down the trail back towards the castle - he had probably been on the receiving end of her Bat-Bogey Hex afterwards, or at the very least, a stern talking to.

"I'm glad you thought so." Hermione sits up and pushes her hair behind her ears. "What I don't understand is how Ginny is so upset and yet, Ronald, you think I'm Merlin's gift to wizard-kind."

"I guess the thing is, 'Mione, is that I don't want to win." He shrugs. "It would be nice of course, but just finishing the challenges is accomplishment enough for me."

"I suppose Ginny really wants to win, then."

"Desperately." Harry supplies, pursing his lips as though he wished he hadn't said anything. Then he adds quietly, "I think she sees you as a threat."

"Who wouldn't after the Drop?" Ron barks out a laugh and changes the subject. "Everyone is getting antsy for what's next. I wrote to George the other day and he said that three weeks is the longest wait between challenges in Panic history."

"Why?" Asks Harry.

"Likely because the judges are deciding on a task - trying to outdo whatever the challenges were last year."

"It's not like anyone but the graduating class knows what the tasks are anyway, it doesn't make any logical sense to try and out do previous years when no one else knows what exactly they are trying to out do." Hermione doesn't really care about picking apart the game anymore, but it seems cruel to keep all the players waiting in suspense while the powers that be find even more frightening ways to terrify them.

Perhaps that's a part of the game, too.

The waiting.

"Someone has got to keep a record of all of this somewhere, don't you think?" Asks Harry, making a solid point and impressing Hermione. She hadn't thought about that - of course she'd looked in the library for any mention of the game but because of its recentness and all the secrecy that shrouded it she was not surprised to come up empty handed.

Perhaps George had a secret stash of records on all the games, or maybe a previous years judge - George was way too proud of this accomplishment not to be recording everything or employing someone to do it on his behalf.

"I suppose that would make sense." She agrees with a small tentative smile, she'd missed Harry quite terribly these last few weeks. However close she and Ron were, her and Harry had a more genuine relationship - that is to say, something she had come to cherish as familial in nature.

She did, after all, have a shortage of family members at the minute.

Ron nudges her arm garnering Hermione's attention and nods his head towards another redhead fast approaching the trio. Hermione stands quickly from her spot on the grass, intending to face Ginny's wrath head on. Ginny, however, doesn't even look at Hermione narrowing her gaze on her boyfriend who seemed to have shrunk down to a quarter of his size.

"Harry. I've been looking for you."

"Ginny, I -"

"No." Ginny interrupts Hermione before she can finish and all she can think is how many times in recent months she has seen too much of Ron in his younger sister.

"Common Gin, just hear her out." Says Ron, rolling his eyes.

"She has nothing to say that I'd be interested in hearing."

"Please Ginny, I don't want to fight."

"You should have thought about that before you jumped off that cliff!"

"I wasn't thinking about anything when I did that! There wasn't a logical thought in my mind - which explains why I acted so out of character - please Ginny you have to understand. I'm going to lose my childhood home! How would you feel if someone was threatening to take The Burrow from you?"

"I wouldn't take it well." Ginny admits, uncrossing her arms.

"Neither did I." Hermione sighed letting the weeks of built up tension ease out of her shoulders. "I'm sorry Gin, there wasn't any time to explain."

Ginny seems to take a moment to collect her thoughts - something that was decidedly different from her brothers coping mechanisms. Ron was all about acting first and thinking later and although Ginny had displayed those tendencies and was fiery tempered by nature she always knew when to take a moment to breathe.

"Alright, then."

And that was that.

It was all Hermione was going to get from Ginny and it was better than anything she expected.

"Finally." Harry and Ron chorused.

Ginny rolled her eyes and sat beside them in the grass.

"Did you two get your messages?" She asks, leaning into Harry's side with a mischievous smile. Ron immediately jumps up and stands at attention, eyes going properly bug-eyed.

"What? NO! Did you get yours?"

"Yeah, about twenty minutes ago by the lake." Ginny chuckles to herself. "You're probably in too much of a public space . . . the delivery method wasn't exactly subtle."

.

Ginny had been absolutely right, the delivery method wasn't subtle and leaned heavily towards grotesque.

Ron had dragged her to the lake where he waited rather impatiently for something to happen, his hand tapping a strange rhythm on his thigh as he paced. Hermione, on the other hand, was staring out into the water, she couldn't see Voldy's Drop from here as it was hidden away on the far side and tucked between two large stone formations but she knew it was there.

The jump had been terrifying, of course. She hadn't let herself scream for fear of being docked points at displaying any kind of panic. The water had been frigid, a total shock to her body and when she broke the surface the hardest part had been convincing her body to keep swimming back to the shore as the symptoms of hypothermia had already started to set in.

She might never admit it to anyone who asked, but something about the recklessness of her choice had revitalized her. It felt like the jump had woken her up from a years long slumber and she still felt the effects of the adrenaline to this day.

She could let herself fall into the feeling late at night, remembering.

Malfoy was the first one she saw as she waded up the shore and the expression on his face had been . . . unreadable. His feet had disappeared beneath the water as if he had walked out to get a better look at her and his body was tight - anticipatory. He looked as if he had never seen her before in his life. She remembers the slow smile.

She had felt his eyes on her until Harry had given her his jumper and tucked her away to scold her quietly beneath his arm.

"Look!" Shouts Ron, starling Hermione from her thoughts. "What the bloody hell kind of birds are those?"

She follows the path of his arm, his hand pointing to two blood red birds flying at a near impossible speed towards them. They were approximately the size of a large dog, it was almost obscene. They weren't slowing down, swooping under and over one another and heading straight for their heads. Hermione brandished her wand, and crouched down on her haunches. Ron stood stock still, wand still tucked away in his robes and facing the large birds as if he were gearing up to sacrifice himself.

"Ron!" She chides, "Get down!"

"It's got to be the message!" He responds, moving closer to the birds obvious trajectory. "You have to let it happen."

Whatever was going to happen, Hermione was not interested in being accosted by a bird the size of a Great Dane and so she cast a protection spell around her, acquiescing to Ron's wishes and leaving him to his own devices.

The bird meant for her unfurled its wings, talons angled forward predatorily and hit her protective spell, letting loose an otherworldly scream of frustration. Its wings beat against the spell and its claws scratched whatever they could reach. Its beak pecked a furious beat, its strange red eyes never straying from her face. Hermione pulled her arms over her head unwilling to make eye contact with the strange beast and waited until its shrill squawking stopped.

Then the bird exploded in a storm of red feathers and bits of flesh that fell like snow and blanketed the ground at her feet. She only lowered her spell when she was certain the threat of being maimed was gone.

Ron laid out on the ground beside her, covered in blood and stray red feathers that stuck to his wounds.

"Ron!" She pressed her hand to his face and his eyes snapped open.

"Is it over?"

"Yes." There are a number of shallow scratches one his face; above his eyebrow, on both cheeks, and a particularly deep one on the corner of his lower lip. His arms took the worst of it and yet Ron doesn't seem to care. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." His answer is curt as his attention is on his surroundings, looking for some kind of hidden message. "The feathers! Look, there!"

The feathers that survived the brutal explosion had fallen on the ground in a particular pattern, words.

Top of the main staircase.

Midnight.

Hermione is busying scraping carnage off of her skin and out of her hair to really care much. Of course the judges went with another flare for the dramatic - a burning canopy and now this? What was so wrong with using owls?

Ones that don't explode.

"Finally!" Ron claps his hands together in excitement and Hermione can't help but glare at him with pursed lips and and an unmistakable look of exasperation.

She resists the urge to call him an idiot as she escorts him to the hospital wing.

.

Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione keep their footsteps light as they creep through the corridors towards the main staircase. There's an eerie feeling in the air as only every other torch is lit on each landing of the stairs and Hermione notices something else very strange about the familiar part of the castle.

"They aren't moving." She realizes.

Her companions seem to take notice of the abnormal sight. The staircase, usually finicky and in constant motion are still - cemented to the sides of the stone walls leaving a gaping hole that stretches upwards towards the ceiling.

The foursome start their journey up the stairs, longer than it would normally take because the staircase had become a spiral. The higher up they began to climb, the darker the space in middle became until they were so high, they couldn't see the bottom anymore.

"It's incredible charm work." Hermione breathes, entranced by the intricacy. "It's near impossible to trick or outmaneuver the magic that is ingrained in the castle - I've never seen anything like it! I wonder exactly how they managed it."

Ginny and Ron, who were visibly nervous didn't even seem to hear her, consumed with anticipation while Harry kept his eyes trained gravely on each step.

"If I were you, Granger," Came a drawling voice from the dim landing they were approaching. "I would be focusing less on the how and more on the why."

Ginny, Ron and Harry continued past Malfoy without so much as an acknowledgement but when Hermione tried to do the same, he fastened his strong grip around her upper arm and tugged her to the railing overlooking what she could only compare to a black hole.

"Surely a fall from here would kill you and we haven't even reached the halfway point." His voice is a menacing whisper at her ear. "From the top . . . well, there wouldn't be anything left of you to salvage."

"If you're trying to scare me, don't bother."

She was already scared, but she wasn't about to let him know that.

"No water at the bottom to save you this time, Granger."

"You don't even know what the challenge is going to be." She whispers harshly, pulling her arm out of his strong grasp and fixing him with a glare. "It could have nothing to do with this."

He looks at her like she is daft and she bristles with anger at the implication of his arched brow.

"Isn't there anyone else you can try your hand at intimidating, Malfoy?" She continues up the stairs and is annoyed to find that he has fallen into step beside her.

"No one near as interesting as you."

"I'm flattered." She deadpans, quickening her pace in the hopes of catching up with her friends.

He smirks at her and she feels the slight pressure of his hand on her lower back, guiding her up the stairs. She stiffens at the contact and he leans in again, his nose brushing a few strands of wayward hair that has managed to slip free of her plait.

"Wouldn't want you to trip and fall."

Then his hand is gone and he is moving swiftly up the stairs, taking two at time.

Lee Jordan is the picture of happiness when she arrives at the very top of the staircase. He collects their wands and addresses all who are present. There are only a handful of people watching as the invitation was only extended to the players this time instead of the whole seventh year class.

Only about twenty wide eyed students line the first few staircases, pressed into the stone walls to allow the players to walk by and up to where Lee Jordan stands on the highest landing.

"Forgive the hushed tones," He starts, "But this high up, voices travel."

With a flick of his wand a long wooden plank just shy of the width of her foot appears, it is balanced precariously on the stone railing where they are standing and ends on the railing opposite her. The darkness in the middle nearly swallows the beam, making it look even more narrow over the most dangerous part.

"Pretty self-explanatory, I'd say." Lee laughs and gestures to the beam. "Make it to the other side in sixty seconds and you're in! Fail to do so and you're out."

Hermione examines the dimensions. The distance from one railing to the other has to be about forty feet - easy to cover in theory, but balancing on a narrow beam fifty stories high? Is it even fifty stories? She tries to recall any mention of the height of the infamous staircase in Hogwarts: A History but nothing is coming to mind when she looks back over the railing.

The darkness has swallowed everything, the torches lighting their path during their ascent have been extinguished.

A plump Ravenclaw boy is shaking.

"How is this fair?" He whines quietly to Lee, despite the low volume of his voice everyone can hear him. "I'm minimum fifty pounds heavier than every other player! The beam will snap."

Hermione highly doubts that the beam will snap, its integrity must have been reinforced with magic but she doesn't expect Lee Jordan to tell them that. The whole point of the game is to induce panic and that's exactly what is happening.

"Bowing out, MacDougal?" Lee waggles his eyebrows while the small crowd waits with bated breath.

Morag MacDougal takes a large breath, weighing his options. When he exhales a little whine escapes.

"You really are trying to kill us." It's a resigned statement, defeat clear in his voice and he takes several steps down the stairs, joining the rest of the people watching. "I'm out."

Lee makes a dramatic show of crossing Morag's name off of what Hermione assumes to be a list of players and their points.

"There's always one." He chuckles, shaking his head and pocketing the scrap of parchment.

Draco chuckles darkly at Morag's fear while the people gathered on the staircase start to mutter to each other about the new change in the game. Ron nudges Hermione with wide eyes and leans down to whisper.

"I'm not as . . . round, but I've certainly more muscle." He punctuates his findings with an audible gulp.

Ron is right, he is tall and meaty and as muscle weighs more than fat she can understand why Ron's hands are starting to tremble. She quickly tells him her theory of the beam being magically strengthened and he seems to relax.

Hermione hopes that her educated guess is a fact.

"Draco Malfoy, you're up first." Lee announces.

The Slytherin in question steps forward to the railing and sheds his robes with a theatrical grin aimed at the crowd before it settles on her and then he winks, hoisting himself onto the railing with dexterity and speed that has her heart racing.

He balances on the railing with his arms spread wide and takes a tentative step onto the beam. He bounces lightly to test its durability and there is a collective gasp among the the students at his daring antics.

"Time begins . . . NOW."

Hermione doesn't believe her eyes when the barmy Slytherin begins to run!

Actually run!

Her hands are pressed over her mouth to quiet the scream that she is trying to choke back. He seems to glide over the darkness looming below and once he reaches the other railing he jumps down to safety, turns to the bewildered crowd and takes a bow.

Even Lee looks awed, eyes wide and stance stiff.

"Ten seconds." He whispers under his breath, almost like a prayer and then a little louder, "Ten seconds!"

"The git really has lost his mind." Mutters Ron, impressed in spite of himself.

Hermione has been gripping her fists together so tightly during Malfoy's challenge that her nails have created deep and painful crescent moon shaped grooves into her palms.

"Hermione Granger, you're up." Lee says after he composes himself. "Tough act to follow, I'll say."

Hermione had been so preoccupied with Draco's dauntless display she'd forgotten she was supposed to perform the same task.

Hauling herself up onto the railing makes her nauseous. Her feet don't feel like they have any grip on the stone and she has to force herself to let go and shakily stand from the crouched position. She holds her arms perpendicular to her body to balance herself and takes a tentative step forward.

She wobbles when the looming darkness below sparks a bout of vertigo but manages to right herself with a deep and steadying breath. When her right foot touches the beam, Lee starts her time.

She doesn't want to look down but she needs to see where she is placing her foot and she is paralyzed with fear. The darkness below breeds unpleasant thoughts of drowning, or a monster creeping up from blackness to swallow her whole. Then she thinks of her parents, how they would scold her for putting her life at risk . . . if they ever remembered her. She thinks about the warmth of her childhood bed and family dinners.

Thoughts of home spur her forward, one foot after the other.

She's taking too long, she knows it.

She's not going to make it in the required amount of time and she starts to move faster, not regaining her balance after every step and it proves near fatal when her foot slides right off of the beam and she's falling.

Her saving grace is her leg that manages to hook around the beam, its impact painful but paling in comparison to what could have been an excruciating death. She's hanging upside down and she can hear someone let out a shrill shout of panic.

"Come on, Granger."

It's Malfoy and though she is looking at him upside down, he is much closer than she realized which means she's closer to the other side than she thought.

"Time's wasting, get that arse moving!"

No one on the other side can hear him, they're too far away.

Hermione pulls herself into a straddling position using her arms and her leg despite the way it tweaks with pain. She puts one foot on the narrow piece of wood and leans forward, gripping the beam with all of her strength and pulls herself into a crouch.

Malfoy's gaze is bearing down on her with an unexpected weight and she uses it as a focusing point. He's leaning against the railing with a practiced arrogance and a matching smirk.

"You know, Granger - if you want to stand around showing off your arse all night, I've got a few other suggestions - Madame Rosmerta is always looking for fresh faced young witches for her fine establishment."

"Really?" Hermione grounds out between clenched teeth. "I expect you've gone through all the ones currently in her employ and scared them off?"

"Don't get it twisted, Granger. If anyone is getting paid for the pleasure of my company, it's me."

"Is that why you're playing, then? Low on funds?"

He laughs unexpectedly at her barb as she makes her way towards him.

"I'm playing because I've got no will left to live." His smile is a dangerous one, there is some truth to his words but he says them like a joke.

"Obviously." She grounds out.

"That's the thing about not caring, I've got nothing left to lose. When nothing matters anymore is when you start having the most fun - admit it Granger, you like this. Risking your life, accomplishing the near impossible - it turns you on."

"Don't you have anywhere else to be? Rosmerta's Brothel, perhaps?"

Another step closer.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be, Granger. What could be better than this?"

Hermione could think of a million things better than this right off the top of her head, starting with pushing him down the staircase and watching the darkness swallow him up. She looks up at him and his eyes flash at her.

"Closer." He draws out the word like he's coaxing a timid creature into his arms.

Another step.

"Closer."

She isn't sure when it happens but suddenly Malfoy's arm is within reach and he is grabbing her hand and pulling her against his chest.

She lets herself stay there for a moment, looking up at him defiantly and hating that despite how irritating she found him - his presence had been a useful distraction. She had been so focused on how irksome she found him, with his handsome face and lithe build - and that keen mouth so quick to spew intelligent quips.

Time seems to stutter as they stare at each other, not knowing whether to go forward, jump back or stay still.

"You're welcome." He says finally, leaning closer to her. His storm cloud eyes spark, not with defiance but something akin to amusement.

She pushes away from the railing, skirting around his imposing form without breaking eye contact.

"For what, exactly?"

He doesn't say anything more, he simply saunters down the stairs without waiting for any of the other players to complete the challenge or the announcement of their points.

.

Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott, having seen Draco depart meet him a few landings down waving a bottle of Ogden's Finest at him, meant to be shared in celebration.

They watch from the darkness as their housemate Zabini makes his away across the beam. He makes it just in time to advance to the next challenge.

Nott passes Draco the bottle with a pointed look.

"I see you've plucked yourself a golden girl to play with." He says.

Draco takes a healthy swig, eyes trained on Granger. She is clutching the youngest Weasley's hand whose brother stumbles across the bream. Her shoulders are tense and she has pulled her hair from its braid in her anxiousness and is twirling a few strands with deft fingers.

"Be careful with that one, mate."

"It is always a shame when one of the goods ones get broken." Pansy adds.

"I'll be gentle." Draco assures his friends.

Then Pansy says something that surprises him.

"I wasn't talking about her."