Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

Author's note.

So this chapter is a huge one in terms of really getting this story started. I dont doubt that there are other stories out there like mine with the same themes. My goal is to really bring to life the feelings inside these characters as I imagine them. We see a lot of Hermione in this chapter. Let me know what you think. I typed this up at work today, and I am suddenly grateful for a job with a lot of free time.

Enjoy.

Hermione slept fitfully that night. Her dreams were scattered pieces and flashes of images. She dreamt of that night in the department of mysteries, being hunted down by Lord Voldemort's death eaters.

She was running, throwing stunning spell after stunning spell behind her hoping each one made its aim.

She had identified at least three of them. Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, and Antonin Dolohov. All inner circle members to the Dark Lord. Her chest was heaving, burning with each breath she took. The Dark Lord had sent his most trusted members to hunt them down. She cringed as an odd orange color curse flew over her head.

They were children.

This was war though she reminded herself and pushed her legs to run faster. Hermione didn't know how much longer she could go. All the training they had done over their fifth year did not seem to be holding up to the far more advanced magic of the death eaters. She chanced a glance over her shoulder to see how close the shadows behind them were to her and Luna.

Too close.

All too suddenly she was free falling, Luna was too she could see the blonde hurtling towards the ground next to her. Her wand felt sweaty in her hand and she fumbled to wave it.

"Arresto Momentum!" Hermione screeched desperately. She hoped the spell would reach the other falling bodies too, which she had glimpsed just barely.

Her free fall slowed dramatically until she was inches from the floor before ending and she dropped roughly onto the cold tile. Hermione didn't have any more time to think about what had just happened before she felt a warm hand wrap around her arm and jerk her up from the floor. She struggled against the stone hard grip, bucking her head back to try and make contact with anything that could hurt her captor. She heard his low laugh too close to her ear.

A wand pushed into her throat with a bruising force, the hand that had been gripping her wound into her hair twisting its fingers into her long strands. Hermione stopped struggling, trying to calm her breathing and her mind. This was not good. Her heart lurched as she realized she didn't have her wand on her.

There just a few inches from her feet lay her vine entwined wand. She didn't think the person holding her, who she had now identified as Dolohov, had noticed. Her eyes roved around the room with an unusual quickness, calculating what was going on. Each of her friends were being held at wand point. They were going to die.

Hermione swallowed thickly. She was only sixteen, and Harry, oh Harry he needed to be the one to survive. He needed to live in order to take down the Dark Lord.

Something in her shifted. She felt desperate and wild, the dim lights in the room suddenly felt too bright and her friends' faces started blurring. The hand fisted in her hair felt not as tight. She looked at her wand again, willing it to come to her. Willing it to save them. It twitched slightly. Hermione focused her mind, begging to feel the wood in her fingers.

"Accio wand." she chanted over and over.

It came flying at her and she knew this moment was vital to them surviving. Cold fury filled her veins as she glanced around at the pain filled scared faces of her friends. Bellatrix Lestrange was taunting Neville, her eyes wide and crazed. Not today she thought.

Hermione didn't have time to think about what she was actually doing, all she felt was that tranquil calmness slip over her as she cast the first curse that came to her mind. The room flashed a brilliant green, everyone's shocked filled eyes following the stream of light as it crossed the room and hit Bellatrix Lestrange straight in her head. The hand in Hermione's hair dropped fully and she twirled on the wicked man an odd feeling of excitement coursing through her.

Vindictive amber orbs stared him down as she uttered the curse a second time, the emerald light reflecting in his black eyes. She did not pause to feel bad or wonder at what was happening to her as she twirled to the death eater holding Luna. His long platinum hair was windswept and his silver eyes cruel as he regarded her carefully. Hermione did pause this time, watching as Lucius morphed his features and put his son Draco Malfoy in place of him.

Her heart stuttered in its beating, not expecting to see her classmate in place with the other death eaters. His face was cold and blank, but his eyes told a different story. He glared at her, keeping her frozen in her movements. She felt trapped as she had at dinner -

Hermione shot up in her bed gasping, her fingers cold and stiff curled around her bedsheets. It had been a dream. Her throat was dry and she felt parched, sweat rolling down her skin in tiny beads. Her stomach was twisted and her head pounded. She had lived this dream, this memory, over and over before but it had never before taken the twist it had tonight.

She had never uttered the killing curse, had never taken the lives of Lestrange and Dolohov. Had not seen Draco Malfoy there with the other death eaters. Hermione felt, well she felt sick. Sick because in her dream she had killed two people? Or sick because she had felt good while doing it, felt powerful? Then there was the problem of Malfoy popping up. She knew she had been subconsciously thinking of him as of late, between Harry always mentioning his name and her own recent interactions.

It wouldn't be unlikely that her brain had finally brought to life some of those feelings and thoughts, projecting Malfoy into her unconscious world.

Something felt off about it all though. She laid back down on her bed softly, her head cushioned on the red cotton pillows. Her breathing slowed and her eyes closed gently again as she recounted her dream, nightmare? As her friend's faces had started to blur and the lights had gone too bright, Malfoy's face had been crystal clear. His eyes were two reflective mercurial pools that threatened to drown her if she moved.

It was on the tip of her tongue and she named the feeling with a pit in her stomach. Foreboding. It felt familiar and much too real.

She sat up again and dangled her feet off the bed, wiggling her toes to feel something other than the shock slowly traveling through her limbs. Hermione glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was nearly four in the morning and she knew she would not be going back to sleep. She reached under her pillow to where she always kept her wand and murmured a silencing spell so that she wouldn't wake her roommates.

As she did so she had another flashback to her dream in which she had used wandless magic to summon her wand. Wandless magic at her age was unheard of and on a whole other level of talent. Even for her. She shook her head, her curls bouncing.

She decided to head to the prefect's bathroom, in need of a hot bath with all the right oils to soothe her mind and body. Her scar from Dolohov was acting up again and she suspected it was from her dream. It was early in the morning too and Hermione doubted anyone else would be wanting to use the large bath. She gathered her shower essentials and threw a dark purple, fur lined cloak on. The early chill of the morning was seeping into her bones.

The Fat Lady was snoring rather loudly as she quietly closed the entrance to the common room. Hermione hoped not to wake her and deal with the scolding she would no doubt give. No other common room had a portrait watching them come and go. Although, usually no other house had as many students sneaking around when they weren't supposed to be she thought, laughing lightly in her head.

Her footfalls were silent and the only thing that could be heard was her cloak brushing the ground as she padded towards the prefect's bathroom. A disillusionment charm would have been a nice touch to her early morning walk but she really couldn't care less about being caught right now. She was just going for a bath.

Hermione had been right. The bath that she had run with near scalding water and poured vials of rose, lavender and an assortment of other oils into had been just what she needed. A wistful sort of sigh escaped her softened lips. Everything about her felt soft right now.

Her thoughts had been running in circles for the past twenty minutes playing and replaying her dream. She wondered if perhaps she should draw the memory out and place it in a vial. She never wanted to forget the way she had felt when casting that first killing curse, Casting the second and then meeting Mafloy's non judgemental gaze. Hermione had never felt as powerful as she had then, and she felt her pulse quickening just thinking of it.

She wanted to be that witch she was in her dream, maybe not the cold hearted killer, the one who could do wandless magic and bring down the death eaters who threatened the ones she cared most about. Her hand swept over the cooling water of the bath, pushing mini waves across its surface. She needed to feel that magic again.

Hermione contemplated bringing the idea up to Harry, possibly getting Dumbledore's Army started up again. Last year felt so… childish compared to what they had experienced over the summer at the battle of the department of mysteries. They were throwing stunning spells while the death eaters had been aiming to kill with their dark curses. Bellatrix had killed Sirius, such a valuable member to the Order and Harry's only remaining family. She wondered what would have been the outcome if they had pushed their morals to the side and had been aiming to kill, too.

The dark water of her bath seemed to reflect the green flash that went off inside her mind.

She worried her lip, the sting from breaking the skin again welcomed. Harry wouldn't want to call the DA together again just to learn darker magic. He believed in good and rights and wrongs. Hermione did too, but she recognized where they stood in this war. Children they may still be, but what did the Dark Lord care about that. He would kill them all in a blink of the eye if he could. Her specifically. Her dirty blood, ruining the wizarding world.

She wondered if he knew about her, the Dark Lord that was. If he knew she was the brightest witch of age and the top of her class just as he had been many years ago. The water had gone cold and she debated on a warming charm, deciding against it and that the cold felt good too. Her fingers trailed through the water again feeling the way it parted smoothly between her digits. She tilted her head back and sighed again.

As soon as she felt relaxed and light her mind would turn everything heavy and dark. She didn't want the Dark Lord to know of her, didn't want to haughtily think she could be better than everyone else.

The tendrils of curiosity and hunger wrapped around her, maybe she did want to know what it actually felt like to feel a dark curse leave her lips and hit its target. Maybe she was curious to how everyone would react to her power and her saving them.

Hermione was already powerful in her knowledge of the wizarding world and the ins and outs of its history, its spells that could extend her bag into nothingness and contain gossiping animagi into small containers, the simple words needed to condemn a woman to her fate within the Forbidden Forest.

She supposed she was no stranger to taking the quick, more vindictive route in accomplishing what she wanted to get done. She just needed to hone those skills into something that would ensure they survive the war and give them a fighting chance. Her hand left the water to reach up for her wand, draining the bath with a quick murmur. Her ears were ringing and heart thumping as she quickly dried off and donned her cloak again. It was nearly five and she didn't want to be disturbed when she arrived at the library.

This time she did cast a disillusionment charm in addition to her silencing spell so she could run through the castle without worrying. Hermione felt giddy with excitement as she tore into the common room and up the stairs to change into her school outfit for the day. She dressed quickly before bolting out again.

She had gathered all the tomes she could find on wandless magic, and anything slightly more advanced about spells and defensive work. The Library was eerily silent, not even Madam Prince's usually nosy self poking around. Hermione believed she would normally show up sometime around six in the morning for those students wanting to study before classes.

Levitating the stack of books behind her, she walked deeper into the rows of tall bookcases and whispered a quiet "Lumos." Her wand illuminated the space around her until she found her way to the library's restricted section. She sucked her cheek into her teeth wondering how to get a pass. She assumed it wouldn't be hard as many of the professors tended to give her whatever she needed or wanted to succeed in their classes. Perhaps she could sway Slughorn, as she really didn't want Professor Mcgonagall or Professor Dumbledore knowing she was picking around in the dark tomes.

Hermione turned on her heel back towards the front of the library where she would need to write down a list of all the books she would be checking out. Her nose crinkled up slightly when she realized she had decided on already keeping a few of the books to herself and hoping Madam Prince wouldn't see their empty slots on the shelves. The curious part of her wondered briefly if there were a system put in place for Madam Prince to be alerted when books were not listed as checked out or returned.

Oh well.

She would deal with that when it came down to it. Even though the librarian was severe in nature, Hermione knew she held a soft spot for her and could easily sweet talk the woman. Hermione questioned, too, when she had decided on forgoing all her logic and diving head first into what would surely end up as something bad. Things needed to change if they were to survive. Once she had mastered her own power and nurtured her own magic she could then make a case to Harry and the Order on the importance of giving the children who would be thrust into this war a fighting chance.

The library door shut a bit harder than she had meant it to.

It was cold out, the dewey grass sending shivers up her legs as they brushed against her ankles. She had decided to skip breakfast - too excited to begin her own training. Logically she should be sitting down somewhere devouring the books she levitated behind her still. It was important to fully understand what one was practising before actually doing it. Hermione felt anxious though and rushed, like she didn't have enough time in the world to master these arts before doom hit.

Hermione Granger always, always had a plan, always meticulously picked apart everything until she could form her knowledge together. Today she did not have a plan. Today she wanted to conquer the buzzing magic beneath her skin, running through her veins.

Reaching her tiny clearing she stopped just short of the invisible line she had drawn every other time she visited. Where the dark soil of the forest mixed with the sharp grass of the school grounds. Yesterday she had been brave and had picked up a handful of the crumbling earth. She tsked at herself, it was such a silly thing to be thinking about and that she had even come up with the boundary in the first place.

It represented light and dark.

The parts of her own self that were constantly at war, the lines she saw drawn in the earth when it came to the war between good and evil. She wanted so desperately to stay on the grass, lay down and conjure another blanket to read her tomes. Hermione Granger, golden girl, one third of the golden trio, part of the Order of the Phoenix, that girl wanted to stay on the grass and continue with life as it was. Trusting Dumbledore and the Order, trusting that everything would work out how it should. Believing that if she fought with the light, the persecutions and danger she faced as a muggleborn would be brought to justice.

She stared blankly into the forest, watching its shadows dance and beckon her forward. Hearing the whispers of every dark thought she had ever had float across her skin. It was a compilation of music flowing through her head, the leaves rustling and branches crackling, The soft press of the grass under her shoes. It was all coming to a violent crescendo inside her mind.

If anyone had been watching her they would have seen the girl standing stoically silent and still, an almost somber tone to her body language. The wind moved her chestnut curls slightly, weak morning sunlight shadowing a sort of halo on her head.

She took the single step forward across that line, understanding the golden girl had disappeared a long while ago leaving in her wake someone different.

Draco was exhausted. He could actually feel the bags forming under his eyes, struggling to even keep them open. After leaving dinner the previous night he had went straight to the room of requirement, the vaninish cabinet lurking in the background of the vast room. He had been searching, rummaging through the piles of antiques and clutter like a simple muggle.

He had found the necklace by chance, its glittering black gems catching his attention. He did not dare touch it, and instead inspected the jewelry by levitating it in front of him watching it turn in circles. Draco left it there for a few minutes, floating and spinning in slow circles. It was a long shot, and he was somewhat desperate.

The curses he had placed on it were extremely dark, intended to hurt, intended to kill. His fingers twitched by his side as he leaned against the cabinet. An odd urge to touch the glittering stones filled him. He hoped the same urge would fill Dumbledore and he wouldn't have to actually stare down the Professor as he killed him. He started drumming his fingers against the smooth wood behind him. That was more than likely how it would turn out.

Him looking the man in his merry, twinkling eyes and speaking the killing curse clearly. His wand found his left hand and deftly twirled it, imaging the grip he would take as he struck the Professor. The necklace kept rotating.

He murmured a quiet charm, his voice deep and rough from not having used it much the past few days. The necklace followed the movements of his wand floating over to the box he had found it in and setting itself inside the grooves. He cleared his throat and picked up the box, tucking it carefully into his school bag he had brought along with him.

Always keeping up appearances. Besides, he thought snidely, he was due to meet with his Godfather later today to discuss how his mission was progressing and to work on his occlumency. The knowledge of Snape being his Godfather was limited to his slytherin circle and he intended to keep it that way. He ran his thumb over the watch he kept in his bag, seeing that he had about twenty minutes before breakfast ended. Draco was ready to sleep for those next twenty minutes but knew he wouldn't feel the comfort of his bed till after classes, unless he was able to sneak away from lunch.

He waved his wand over his rumpled suit, smoothing out the creases and brushing the dust from the room away. He shrugged his school robes on, feeling slightly more presentable. The malfoy ring he usually wore on his right ring finger felt extra heavy today. He knew he had a test and an essay due today in two of his classes, and although he had the enormous pressure of his mission on his shoulders, his father still expected him to have stellar grades.

Lucius Malfoy was an unforgiving man and Draco didn't want to see or feel the wrath that would ooze from him if he was shown another report that named Granger as top of the class. His lips turned down thinking of the witch. No matter how hard Draco had tried in his classes she was always one grade ahead of him.

He didn't know if he could find it in himself to care at this point though. He would take the beatings or the crucio's, whichever it was. Once he killed Dumbledore he wouldn't be staying at Hogwarts a moment longer. Father would have to take what he could get he thought crossly.

Merlin, he was grumpy this morning. He snatched his bag off the ground and turned towards the front of the room, not even bothering to check if Potter was lurking outside in the hallway. He stayed just long enough to watch the metal slink away to nothing before heading to the staircase. Soft golden sunlight filtered through that window of his and he almost didnt stop to look through it as he usually did, too busy caught up in dragging his feet and grumbling about nothing.

Draco passed the window slowly, deciding to forgo his grumpy mood in favor of checking to see what the weather was like. He could use a quick trip around the castle on his broom. Flying made him feel free and light, his speed and destinations something he had control over. His white blond hair caught the light illuminating against the faint blue glass. He needed to stop wallowing in his feelings although he felt lack of sleep definitely played a part.

It was a nice morning out. Chilly, he could tell by the looks of it, small patches of frost covering the ground and the window fogging up as he stepped closer to look out at the castle grounds.

Lips quirking up, Draco raised his hand to rest against the cold glass. He touched his forehead to it slowly, feeling the sharp sting of the cold rushing to his brain.

She was out there.

Draco could see his eyes reflected in the window, watching his own pale gray hues watching her. She was standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, this time alert and ready for the cold, a heavy purple cloak flowing out behind her. She looked small, that cloak trailing behind her like a shadow. He watched her curiously, wondering why out of all the places she could choose to be she would choose the forest.

His breath fogged the portion of the window he was peering out of and he brought his hand up quickly trying to rub it away, forgetting for a moment he was a wizard. That's how she made him feel. Desperate and quick to fall fool to his feelings. He barely even knew her, had only spent the last six years of his life equating her to trash, to nothing. She was barely worth the words he would throw her way every now and then, barely worth the breath he spent on them. Her kind was the whole reason Dumbledore was doomed to die by his hands.

His mind was raging back and forth, back and forth. Not even a minute had passed since he had laid his head on the cool pane. He did know her though, or so he told himself. He knew the bruises under her eyes as his own, he saw the fight in her deep eyes one between disgust and confusion each time she looked at him. Mirrors of his own. He saw the pieces of his soul he didn't want anyone else to see, in her, too.

Granger.

Draco forgot his exhaustion, his hunger, his mission, his grades. He dropped them carelessly, without a second thought as he headed for the forest.

A/N

This chapter was a lot of fun to write. Hope you enjoyed it.

MIS