Hermione's horse thundered down the snowy path through the forest. "Harry!" she called as the trees whipped past them. "Harry!"

How long it had been since she'd left the castle she did not know. Minutes? Hours? Time was passing in a blur. Her only thought at the moment was to find her brother before death claimed him. She urged the horse to gallop even faster, then abruptly reined him in and backed up. A solitary figure lay sprawled just off the path, snowflakes drifting into his black hair.

"Harry!" His sister all but leaped from the horse's back and dashed to his side. He was cold, icy cold -- but alive. Thanking the good graces that he was light and slender, she pulled him up and managed to settle him onto the saddle. He moaned softly and leaned forward, resting on the horse's neck, as Hermione hauled herself up behind him.

It took her awhile to find her way out of the forest, but before very long they'd reached their small cottage on the outskirts of the village. Hermione put the horse in his stall and threw a blanket over him; while he started to eat, she guided Harry up the few steps and into the house. Too anxious for his health to pay much attention to the surroundings, she did not see Goyle peering out from under the haymow. When the door had shut, he crawled out and made his way stealthily into the village.
Harry blinked. An image was swimming into focus, a worried face framed by soft brown hair.

"Hermione?"

"Shh." She smoothed hair out of his eyes. "It's all right, Harry. I'm here."

He sat up, looking amazed and delighted. With a small cough, he pulled her into a rough embrace, holding her tightly. "I thought I'd never see you again," he muttered.

She smiled and hugged him back. "I missed you, Harry, I missed you so much."

"But...the Beast!" He drew back and stared at her. "How did you escape?"

"I didn't," she said calmly. "He let me go."

"That -- that horrible -- "

"No, Harry, listen to me. He's different now, he's changed. I don't know how, but he's not a monster anymore. Really." She forced him to lie down again and tucked the blankets up under his chin. He studied her face and realized she was telling him the truth...or at least part of it.

A sudden knock on the door made them both turn. Puzzled, Hermione left Harry's bedside and went to answer it. Opening the door a few inches, she could make out the form of an unfamiliar man, tall and thin, with a wizened, calculating face. "May I help you?"

"I've come to collect your brother," he said in a chilling tone.

"My brother?"

"Don't worry...we'll take good care of him." He stepped back then, and for the first time she could see the wagon beyond him, painted with the words Asylum for the Mentally Unstable.

Hermione was furious. "My brother is not crazy!" she cried, storming out of the house. She glared from the asylum manager to his burly henchmen, wondering what in the world was going on. Behind her, she heard Harry get out of his bed and come to the door, and she turned to see his bewildered face. Still flushed with fury, she moved back to his side and put a protective arm around his shoulders. The manager beckoned, and his assistants stepped forward and pulled Harry away from her. "Stop!" she shouted, but they ignored her and dragged him toward the wagon.

At that moment, Draco just happened to appear. "What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked in a too-sympathetic voice. His gray eyes widened as he watched the men trying to force Harry into the wagon. "Are they -- they're taking your brother away?"

"You know he isn't crazy, Draco," she said pleadingly.

He nodded gravely. "Perhaps I could sort out this little misunderstanding...if..."

"If what?" She raised an eyebrow.

"If you'll marry me." He stared at her hungrily.

"What?!"

"One little word, Hermione, that's all it takes."

"Never!"

"That's not the word I had in mind," he growled. He turned back to the wagon. "Take the nutcase away!"

While he was distracted, Hermione dashed back into the house and grabbed the magic mirror, her gift from the Beast. She ran back out and cried, "If you take him away, he's going to hunt you down!" To the mirror she said, "Show me the Beast!"

She held up the mirror for Draco and the men to see, and as they watched, the whirling colors settled down into an image of the Beast. He was in his third floor chamber, and appeared to be bellowing. Draco's eyes grew wide.

"Let my brother go!" she said angrily, and the asylum workers hastily released Harry, who stumbled back to Hermione's side.

"What is that creature?" Draco demanded.

"He's my friend," she said defensively. Glancing down at the mirror still in her hand, an expression of tenderness dawned on Hermione's face as she repeated, "He's my friend."

Draco's eyes darkened with mingled jealousy and rage. He tore the mirror from Hermione's hands, then grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly. "You're mine, Hermione! Mine!" he shouted. "I'm not going to let this -- this monster take you away from me!" He pushed open the door to her cottage and threw her inside, then grabbed Harry and shoved him in too.

"Crabbe! Goyle!" he called, and they stepped out of the shadows where they had been lurking. "Stand here at the door," he growled, loud enough for Hermione and Harry to overhear. "Don't let them set a foot outside. I'm going to go deal with this hideous thing she calls her friend." To the asylum manager he called, "Stick around, if you don't mind! When I get back you can have Harry after all, unless his sister changes her mind about marrying me!" With the mirror clenched tightly in one hand, his bow and arrows slung over one shoulder, he set off into the forest. Every time he reached a fork in the path, he would order the mirror to show him the correct way to go, and in this way he would soon reach the castle.
Inside the cottage, Hermione wept in Harry's arms. "It's all my fault," she sobbed. "I have to save the Beast. Harry, what are we going to do?"

Wildly he stared around, hoping to spot something that could help them escape. "Crabbe and Goyle aren't very bright," he muttered. "Maybe we can trick them somehow."

Hermione raised her head. They looked at each other. "I've got an idea," she said softly.
Crabbe and Goyle stood in the cold, grumbling to each other. Behind them, the door creaked open, and they whirled around, cracking their knuckles threateningly. Hermione stood on the threshold, smiling her sweetest.

"It's awfully cold out there," she said. "I know Harry and I aren't supposed to come out...but wouldn't you like to come in?"

Goyle glanced at Crabbe, who nodded. "Guess that'll be okay," he said thickly. They entered the small cottage, and Hermione ushered them over to the table where Harry sat, eating a bowl of soup.

"I've just made it," she told them, ladling out two giant bowls. "It's nice and hot, should warm you up in no time. Now, eat up!" She set the bowls briskly on the table in front of them and passed them each a wooden spoon.

It was good soup, thick with vegetables and what seemed to be lamb. Crabbe ate three bowlfuls before passing out at the table, snoring loudly. Goyle snorted with laughter before he, too, collapsed into unconsciousness, just barely missing his half-eaten bowl of the soup.

"What did you put in their soup, anyway?" asked Harry, who had long since finished his own.

"A few drops of that stuff Mother used to give us as children when we couldn't sleep," said Hermione. "I bought some from the apothecary a few months ago, when I was having bad dreams...let's go!"

Snatching their cloaks from the pegs near the door, they rushed out to the horse's stall. Harry climbed into the saddle and pulled Hermione up behind him, then urged the horse into the blackness of the forest.
Draco had reached the castle and stood, just for a moment, basking in the sheer immensity of it. I claim this, he thought. When the Beast is dead and Hermione is mine, I'll bring her here to live. Wrapping his arrogance around him like a protective cloak, he stalked through the main doors and gazed around. The sheer opulence was overwhelming. In this place, he thought, I'll live like a king. I'll be a king! And Hermione will be my queen...that should make her forget her foul Beast.

He cast the mirror aside and unslung his bow. Pulling one of his arrows from the quiver, he moved slowly up the grand staircase, his ears alert for the slightest sound. He nocked the arrow to the bowstring, paused just a moment, then burst into one of the rooms on the second floor, ready to shoot. It was empty. Around the whole second floor he went, bursting into each room only to find it empty. When he had made the complete circuit, he went up to the third floor. His nerves were taut, his arm like a coiled spring, ready to strike.

Nevertheless, he was unprepared for the moment when he finally met the Beast. Alone in his private chamber, the Beast sat, still in his velvet finery, gazing into the crystal dome at the dying rose. Three petals still clung to the wilted stem. As he watched, one broke off and drifted down onto the table. The floor creaked as Draco moved through the shadows, and the Beast looked up in surprise. They stared at each other down the shaft of the arrow -- Draco's gray eyes turned steely with resolve, the Beast's blue ones turned dark with sorrow. Suddenly, Draco realized that the Beast was not going to fight back.

So much the better. The arrow left the bowstring with a sharp twang and buried itself in the Beast's chest.

Coming up: Endgame on a castle rooftop