You ought to be aware of one minor typo in the last part. Hermione says they have Friday afternoons off, but make that a Thursday, because today's Friday. In the story, at least.
***
I can hear your voice
The ring of yesterday
It seems so close to me
But yet so far away
I should let it out
To save what's left of me
And close the doors of doubt
Revive my dignity
But I can't go on as long as I believe
Can't let go when I keep wondering
Where are you now, what have you found
Where is your heart, when I'm not around
Where are you now, you gotta let me know
Oh, baby, so I can let you go
***
The Heaven In Your Eyes
Part III
"Eating fatty foods for breakfast every day can cause you to have a heart attack at an early age, you know," Hermione muttered grumpily to Harry, who turned his eyes to the sky in an exasperated manner, before dumping practically the whole sugar bowl on his pancakes. It was the old familiar argument, and Hermione knew she ought to be nicer about it, but she was in no mood to be nice.
She hadn't gotten very much sleep last night. Lily had crept into her room around eleven, and told her all about Hagrid's raising a griffin and the light they'd seen in the Forbidden Forest. And then, of course, they'd had to discuss it for an hour. And once Lily had finally drifted to sleep, Hermione had stayed up at least another hour, pondering the facts over again herself.
"Are you paying attention?" asked Ron for about the millionth time that morning. As usual, papers full of notes lay strewn across the table, and Ron was looking agitated.
"Oh, be quiet, Ron. Not eating breakfast can reduce your life span by ten years."
"What's eating you?"
Hermione ignored him. "Did Hagrid say when he'd be getting the griffin?"
"Ssssshhhh," hissed Ron, looking at the surrounding Gryffindors suspiciously, as if he expected them all to be spies.
"Think he mentioned it. Next Friday."
Hermione coughed loudly in surprise and annoyance. Now she had two things to worry about, Harry's mum and Hagrid's griffin. Not to mention exams and the NEWTs.
"We're going down to see it then, right?"
"Yeah. Eleven."
Eleven. It looked like another sleepless night was on its way.
* * *
Lily turned the page of "An Advanced Guide to Ancient Runes" lazily. The hot May sun shone into the dormitory and spilled on to the beds, even with the lack of a big window in the room.
Suddenly, there was a slight tinkle, like the sound of several tiny bells. It seemed to get louder and louder, until there was a great 'pop!', and the sounds stopped altogether. Lily, alarmed, look up to see none other than Mariel, or at least an image of her, floating over the foot of the bed.
"Good morning, Lily dear."
"M-morning." Lily shut her book with a dramatic thud.
"I'm sorry for dropping in unannounced like this...I daresay I gave you a fright. But I thought you'd want me to come."
"Oh, yes. I'm very glad you came. I miss you."
"So soon? And with your Harry with you and everything. It's such a shame, how humans never seem to be contented."
"Oh-having Harry with me is wonderful. I can't begin to thank you enough--"
"Then don't try, darling. Instead, let me talk to you, which is the real reason I came here anyway."
Lily nodded her silent assent.
"First of all, you should know that you weren't sent here merely because you wished to be. I also thought you'd be able to help your son, and his friends."
If Lily was surprised, she didn't show it to Mariel.
"Don't look for ways in which you can be of service. If I'm not much mistaken, these things will come to you. And secondly, I thought it only fair to warn you of the end of your visit down to Earth."
"The end? I only just got here! I can't go now!"
"My dear, I said nothing of your leaving now. I'm merely warning you that you have exactly a week from tonight to get to know your boy. I'll be coming for you next Friday night, at the stroke of one. You need not find me. I will find you. But now, I must take my leave of you. We guardian angels can only be in the heavy atmosphere of Earth for so long. Good luck, my Lillian."
There was another 'pop!', and Mariel was gone, leaving Lily to her wild thoughts.
One. A week from yesterday at the stroke of one, and Harry would be lost to her for who knew how long.
* * *
For one of the first times in her life, Hermione Granger was having trouble concentrating during Transfiguration. But she'd studied this material yesterday while Harry and Ron were out wreaking havoc with Lily. And besides, she had something else to occupy her mind.
Harry and Ron were sitting right in front of her, both of them watching Professor McGonagall idly. Hermione let her eyes rest of the mass of bright read hair that belonged to the boy she was dating, and had been dating for the past two years. She adored Ron. He was funny, outgoing, nice, gentle-and an all around fun person. Why that couldn't be enough was beyond Hermione's comprehension, but the fact remained that it wasn't.
Her eyes wandered slowly to Harry's dark, wild head. Right now, he was scribbling absently on a blank piece of parchment, his eyes still on their Professor. Hermione giggled inwardly. There was something about him that made her want to scoop him up and never let go. There was so much in Harry that was perfect. He was friendly, determined, courageous, and sweet. The boy who lived in Hermione's heart.
Harry had been so understanding when she and Ron had started dating. He'd still been able to be the person they knew him to be, with no awkwardness at all. He and Ron had remained as close as ever, and nothing had changed.
But since then, Hermione had come to realize that the reason for lack of change in all of them was the fact that she and Ron weren't really-would it be stupid to say in love? They'd just gone about dating, neither of them realizing that their feelings of friendship for each other hadn't truly developed into something more. But now Hermione had, while Ron appeared to be as oblivious as ever.
And all this was made worse by the fact that Hermione was really in love with both her best friend and Ron's. And neither of them had any idea.
"Miss Granger! Are you paying attention?"
Words couldn't express how tired Hermione was of hearing that phrase. But it had to be answered.
"Yes, Professor."
"Good. Then you can tell us how to change the fox back into a ferret."
"Yes, Professor. You flick your wrist twice and say, telursium."
McGonagall nodded her head in approval, and Hermione went back to her musings.
* * *
"Pass the potatoes," Lily called to Seamus Finnigan, who was sitting diagonal from Ron.
"And the butter and salt," added Harry, ignoring his mother as she rolled her eyes, as Hermione so often did. "Skip the lecture, mum," he joked, and Lily almost choked over her potato.
"Honestly, Harry!" she cried, trying to maintain her composure, "I don't know what you mean! I'm certainly not your mother. Your mother-well, she's dead, Harry, and I'm quite alive, so I couldn't possibly be your mother. I'm Hermione Granger, seventeen. Not your mum. Not her."
Ron caught Harry's eye over Lily's shoulder, and shot him a quizzical look. He shrugged, and began smothering his potato in butter and salt.
"It's gloomy out today," a round-faced boy sitting across from Ron remarked. "I hate gloomy days. They make me more flustered than usual."
"Well of course it would be gloomy today, Neville," Parvati declared superiorly, shaking her head as though it were the most obvious thing in the world that it wouldn't be sunny that day. "Everyone knows the day exactly a week before a Friday the thirteenth week is bound to be gloomy. It's common divination knowledge."
"Who wants to bet she made that up on the spot?" murmured Ron, learning in towards Harry and Lily and dropping his voice, as Neville gave out a small whimper.
"This Friday's a thirteenth?" he inquired in a hoarse whisper. Parvati, Lavender, and Sam all nodded solemnly. Harry and Ron rolled eyes at each other over Lily.
"I wouldn't worry too much, Neville," said Harry, lowering his voice so the three aspiring divinators couldn't hear him. "Bad luck like that is just silly superstition. Nothing ever happens."
Neville still looked scared out of his wits, despite Harry's words and Ron's agreeing nods.
"Come on, Hermione, tell him he's being silly, and that nothing bad will happen. He'll believe you."
Lily smiled as kindly as she could, but try as she might, she couldn't quite force herself to bring the words out of her mouth. She couldn't lie.
"Just be optimistic, Neville," she was forced to content herself with saying, trying not to notice the sighs of exasperation she'd caused her beloved son and his best friend.
* * *
"Hermione, are you feeling all right?" asked Harry suddenly, as he, Ron, and Lily walked slowly up the steps to Gryffindor tower to collect their books before Charms (Lily would be relinquishing her place as Hermione to the real thing for the rest of the school day).
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, first you go all spacy in Transfiguration, and then you almost killed yourself choking over a piece of potato at lunch, and then you didn't even get annoyed with Parvati, Lavender and Sam's stupid 'prophecies'. Definitely not Hermionese behavior."
Despite her nervousness, Lily laughed appreciatively at Harry's twisting of the language.
"Oh, look!" cried Ron, after a few moments laughter. "Hogsmeade weekend!"
"It's about time, too. I tore two of my practice robes in the last few weeks, and I feel horribly silly in one dirty one every day on the pitch. I'm desperate for new ones."
"And we haven't been to Zonko's in ages," complained Ron. "Fred and George would be disappointed in me. Gryffindors have never gone this long without wreaking an amazing amount of havoc upon the rest of the school. It's been two days, at least."
"How perfect," sighed Lily contentedly. It'll be lovely to see the old village again.
"And while we're there, we could maybe sit and...chat...over a nice, friendly mug of butterbeer. Shared, of course." Ron grinned slyly at her, and Lily, remembering that he was supposed to be her boyfriend, grinned back. It could be worse. She could be dating her own son.
"Aren't you going to invite me, Weasley?" asked a cold, drawling voice from behind them. Lily whirled around to see a tall, skinny boy with silvery-blond hair, a pointed head, and a shrewd face. Exactly how Hermione had described him. Exactly how Lily had pictured him.
"Maybe if we were putting ourselves on skewers and toasting ourselves like marshmallows over a fire, I would. But not today."
"But it's not all that bad, really," said Harry, with a shrug. "You can always have a romantic candle-lit steak dinner with your 'friends', Malfoy. Oh-I'm so sorry, maybe you don't go that way. It doesn't have to be steak, you know. Veggie burgers are always delicious, if not so elegant."
"Burp slugs, you great prats."
"Been there, done that. Not very pleasant." Ron made a face.
"I meant the man-eating kind, Weasley."
"Ouch, Malfoy. That hurts."
"Literally," added Harry, and the pair of them broke into self-congratulatory laughter.
"You think you're awfully smart, don't you? You know, I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you. There are forces in this world you couldn't possibly beat, even if you are the great Harry Potter himself. A mother's love my arse, Potter. Dumb luck. No mommy to help you next time. And there will be a next time."
And with that, he turned on his heels and stalked out of the corridor, Crabbe and Goyle emerging out of the shadows and following him, looking as large and stupid as ever.
Harry and Ron were still laughing light-heartedly, and appeared to have completely disregarded their enemy's words. Lily, however, was staring after the singular boy, her heart gnawed on by some incomprehensible fear. Some of it, she was sure, was cock and bull, but there was also an element of truth in it that made her most uneasy. She shuddered.
"He's horrible."
"Correction, he's Malfoy," said Harry, straightening up. "More than horrible."
"You don't-you don't think he meant what he said?"
"Hermione, he didn't have any idea what he was talking about. A load of bull. Makes him feel important to talk that way. You know that."
"Oh-yes, of course. But there was something different in it today." Of course, this was a bit of a stretch, as this had been her first ever encounter with the boy, but she couldn't think of any other way to make them interested without making them think she was sick again.
"To you, maybe. To me, it's all the same, always. He hasn't learned a new insult in seven years, I'm dead sure of it."
"Don't say that, Harry. He wants you to be dead, sure. That's what so horrible about it all."
"Mione, if you want the truth, I wouldn't mind so much if he were dead, either. Does that make me horrible, too?"
"Harry, don't talk that way. I know you think you want him dead. But you don't, deep down inside. You wouldn't kill him if you had the chance, and you know that. You're too good for that."
"Can we not turn this into an analysis of my character, Mione? It makes me uncomfortable. You know me too well."
Well of course I do, baby. You're so much like your father. You're everything that's good and kind, and that's what I love about you. It's what I love about him.
"Too bad divination never agreed with you, Mione," chirped Ron, lightening the atmosphere as the trio finally continued their previously interrupted walk to the common room. "You'd have been awfully good at making realistic, incredibly phony predictions. Trelawny would have loved you. Parvati and Lavender would have died."
"Never agreed with me is right," said Lily decisively, speaking less as Hermione than as herself.
"But back to earlier-Hogsmeade. What about it?"
"Oh, Ron. You know I'd love to go lunch or dinner with you. Truly. We'll just have to see. You never know how the weekend's going to play out."
She glanced anxiously at Harry, feeling slightly sorry for him that his two best friends were dating. However, his head was turned the other way, so she couldn't quite read the expression on his handsome face.
* * *
The figure of shadow flitted through the corridors, avoiding the light as much as possible. Its steps were light, and as it made its way through the castle and then finally out the huge double doors in the entrance hall, none of the students so much as looked at it twice.
Through the grass and across the grounds, passing the gamekeeper's hut, catching a glimpse of the silvery lake. To the forest.
"Master," it called, its voice hoarse and throaty. "Master."
"I am here." The answering voice wasn't at all unpleasant-rather soothing, low and musical.
"Master. It has been arranged. All has gone according to plan."
"Perfect. You may have a chance yet."
Hard as it was to tell, the secretive figure seemed to be pleased.
"When will it take place, my master?"
"Friday, my Darkness. A week from today."
"If you please, my master-at what hour?"
"At midnight, Darkness. At the stroke of midnight, the darkest hour. The night will be ours."
"Master," it murmured respectfully, bowing its head as it backed away. And then it turned, and flitted across the grounds once more.
Midnight, it thought gleefully. Midnight, and the world was as good as in its possession.
* * *