Hermione turned up the volume until her ears hurt and the earphones cracked from the static, but she didn't care – anything to block out the world, anything to stopper the depression that enveloped her.

Usually electronic equipment didn't work in the wizarding world, but Hermione had read the crib notes for next semester's potion homework, and found an interesting brew that dismissed magical vibrations. It was supposed to be for insomniacs and wizards leaving the homes of muggles after inspection (standard ministry of magic practice, wizards entered muggle homes under the guise of meter readers for the power company etc.) but Hermione had used it on the walls of her new room. Surprise, surprise, she had got the letter telling her that she was head girl a fortnight ago, although she had yet to find out who would be head boy. Sometimes, no matter how witch-like she was feeling, she just got the urge to listen to some muggle music on her CD player. Tonight was no exception.

Hermione was in her final year at Hogwarts academy of witchcraft and wizardry, and had just finished her first night back. She was listening to a little known (internationally) band called 'The Whitlams', and their song 'Charlie No. 2' (AN: if you want to hear the lines that follow, go to www.thewhitlams.com - go there now! It is under the Lyrics section, click the little speaker icon to the right of the title, 'Charlie No. 2 {Buy now pay later}) had made her teary. It was so, so, relevant. If you replaced Charlie with Harry, the first two verses sounded like this…

"Harry you're not my Harry anymore, you're screwing it up,

You're killing your soul, with an audience looking on.

And if I hadn't left early last night, I would have made a speech to you,

How you're not the only one you're going to hurt."

God she felt like a fool. They had been at the Sorting earlier that night, the three of them, she was sitting between Harry and Ron as usual, and they had a great time watching the event for the last time, seeing the seedy, smarmy characters sorted into Slytherin before the hat even fell upon their head, watching the kind, confident faces come bounding towards them knowing they had become members of the 'best' house at Hogwarts.

After the sorting had finished, the feast progressed quickly, and although the three friends wanted to savour every moment, they couldn't help noticing that Dumbledore had not yet made his speech, although he seemed to be happy enough at the teachers table. The wizened wizard stood and spoke.

"As I am sure you all know, during last semester, the illustrious Mr. Potter and his friends defeated Voldemort, shattering his power and containing his remains in an enchanted urn for all eternity. Now, the ministry can hardly ignore this enormous feat, and as a result, are awarding honorary N.E.W.T's to Harry and his friends. Would Mr. Harry Potter, Mr. Ronald Weasley, Miss Virginia Weasley, Mr. Neville Longbottom and Miss Hermione Granger please step forward to receive their awards?"

They looked at each other in amazement, and Hermione's jaw dropped to the floor. If this year went as she anticipated, she would have 20, including this bonus. The most that anyone had ever achieved at Hogwarts was 19. Harry's mother, Lily, had done it.

'Congratulations, Hermione. 20 N.E.W.T's is no mean feat.' Harry spoke softly into her ear. She could feel the blood rising to her cheeks, blushing to the shade of beetroot.

'Thanks Harry, but I hardly did anything; I only learnt a few spells and said them when you told me to. If it weren't for you, I'd probably be dead by now, you saved us all.'

They seemingly levitated to the podium, Dumbledore draping silver medals around their necks and handing them large scrolls of azure blue parchment tied with silver ribbon. Dumbledore spoke again.

'Would the man of the hour and his friends care to say a few words to their grateful audience?' His eyes twinkled as they so often did when he was up to something or extremely happy. Hermione wasn't so sure what kind of twinkle it was. Harry took out his wand and said 'ampis'. Immediately it took on the characteristics of a microphone. (AN: even if you don't like cheesy oscar/baftaesque acceptance speeches, please bear with me, it is vital to the plot. I mean VITAL!!)

'I would like to thank all of my friends, because without them I doubt that I would be alive; let alone getting an award like this. Ron, you're my best friend, thank you for guiding me, and giving me strength to persevere. Neville, you were so brave, and your idea to put the Cruciatus curse on the death eaters was a stroke of genius, it bought us the extra time we needed. Ginny, you showed so much maturity and wisdom for one so young, without you, I don't think that we would have triumphed at all. Lastly, Hermione, you truly are the most gifted, brilliant, intelligent witch that I have ever known and ever will know. Without your amazing intelligence and wit, I wouldn't be standing here; chances are that this hall wouldn't be here. Along with all the people I love, especially you.' Hermione could feel her heart palpitating. Sure, she loved Harry, as a friend, she loved Harry, but she had the feeling that it was not what he meant as he smiled at her. She felt retched, like the most stupid git that ever walked the earth. Had she led him on? Led him to believe that they were more than just friends? She was sure she hadn't, but had he read her wrong?

She had to get out of there. She was beginning to feel faint, and just wished that she could be back in her bed with Crookshanks purring quietly, asleep at her feet. She tried to think of something calming, like the seaside or some homework, anything to help her compose herself enough to walk to her room. After the others had made their speeches, she too was asked to say a few words. She approached the podium, sucked in a deep breath, and spoke into her wand. 'I think that everyone has already said everything that needs saying, and can I just say that I share all of these thoughts, and more than agree with the sentiments that have been shared.' Whilst everyone was cheering them off the head table, she whispered into Ginny's ear. 'I've got to go. I feel ill, send everyone my apologies, I think I need to lie down before I fall down.'

'I'll come with you, I'll just tell Ron we're going' said Ginny

'Alright, I'll wait outside the hall' said Hermione

The two friends headed up the stairs to the dormitory where they were met by the fat lady, 'password?' she enquired.

'Slytherin Snuggle cakes' whispered Ginny. Ushering Hermione through the hole and up the spiral staircase to the girl's dormitory.

'Well, that was a surprise and a half!' exclaimed Ginny.

'Yeah, a proper Newt, and I haven't even started the term yet' sighed Hermione.

'You know full well that's not what I'm talking about. So, are his feelings reciprocated? Or is it the real reason that you are up here?' said Ginny

'Ginny, why do you know me so well and how is it that you know what I am thinking? Why don't I love him? Why does he love me?'

'I hate to sound cliché, but you're the only one who can answer your first question, and isn't the second answer rather obvious?'

'No, it's not Ginny.'

'Firstly, you're beautiful, then you are kind, fair, not to mention the smartest witch that Hogwarts has seen in over 100 years, all of the senior boys are madly in love with you, even Malfoy, and Harry has had the bug since you were in fourth year, it nearly drove him crazy when you went out with Ron in fifth year, which is why he came up with the idea to call a bit of a mutual truce and break it off. You wouldn't think that Ron tells me everything, but he's opened up a lot lately. And lastly, you are just plain amazing. You can pull off all of this without even batting an eyelash. You are incredible.'

'God Ginny, the way you say it, you make me sound like the queen of sodding Sheba!'

'The Queen of what?'

'Oh, sorry, its mugglespeak; I keep on forgetting that you're not a muggle like me.'

'You are not a muggle or a mudblood or anything like that, you are a proper witch! Stop being such a milch cow and liven up a bit!'

'Sorry'

Well, what are we doing hanging around here anyway, miss 'Head Girl'? Let's go check out your new room!'

The two went down into the common room, and approached the expanse of wall between the twin staircases that went up to the boys and girls dormitories. In the centre of the wall was an enormous oil painting featuring the Gryffindor lion on a scarlet and gold background. Hermione ran her hand down one side of the painting, and the lion opened its eyes, and purred.

'Hello. Hermione, isn't it?' Yawned the lion

'Yes thankyou, sir' whispered a rather hesitant Hermione.

'Please, call me Aslan'. (AN: hehehe – mini-crossover for all of you who had to read the Narnia books in junior school! {For those who don't know, Aslan is the name of the lion from "The lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe"})

'Password?'

'Dracodillius Sepurnium' said Hermione, feeling more confident.

The painting swung out in the fashion of the fat lady, and Hermione and Ginny stepped through the gaping hole in the wall.

It wasn't a room as such, more of a suite, with a living area, study, and separate bedroom and bathroom. The living area was very cosy, with two big scarlet couches and a dark marble fire place; but the part about it that Hermione loved the most was the bookshelves, four or five large mahogany ones, filled with her favourite books, including her battered copy of Hogwarts: A History from way back in first year. The little study area was adorable, featuring a huge desk made of some dark wood she didn't recognise, it was filled with new parchment and quills. A big leather chair was pushed in at the desk, and another small bookshelf was filled with expensive looking leather bound books.

'Wow, Hermione, I knew that the job had perks, but isn't this just a little outlandish?'

'I had no idea it was going to be like this – and we haven't even seen the bedroom yet!' The two friends made a sprint for the door on the right side of the room and pushed their way into a very modern, light room, with lime- washed walls and lemony carpet. A Queen sized pine bed with bright bed linen sat in the left hand corner of the room.

'Holy shit Ginny! This is my bedroom! My bedroom from home, in Greenwich!'

'How do they do it? Hogwarts sure does come up with some surprises!'

Hermione went to the pine tallboy and opened the drawers. Inside she found all of her muggle clothes, Shorts, shirts, jeans, skirts, everything. Then her face lit up and she ran across the room to the matching cupboard.

'Ginny! Come here! You have got to see this.' Hermione exclaimed, pulling out her dresses and shoes and laying them on the bed. 'I could never fit any of this in my trunk to come back to Hogwarts, and it was just not practical, I mean, it's not as if they run a course on muggle fashions in contemporary society, so I didn't. Here, try this on.'

Hermione handed Ginny a silver satin dress with a white organza overlay, which was embroidered with silver roses. 'Oh, you'd better take these as well' said Hermione, thrusting a pair of matching shoes and some accessories. Ginny went to put it all on while Hermione kept on sorting through the large rack of gowns. Hermione found her favourite, a dark red silk dress with very full skirts, a fitted bodice and satin trim of the same colour. She put it on, along with her matching shoes, slicking her hair up into a pony tail, letting a few curls fall across her face. At that moment Ginny entered the room. She looked amazing, her Auburn hair falling in waves on her shoulders, silver shoes on her feet and a simple silver choker encompassing her neck

They decided that the best place to show their new looks off would be at the ball tomorrow. It was to be held in Harry's honor, to celebrate their triumph and the collapse of evil in the wizarding world. They realised it was getting late, so Ginny said her goodbyes and left back through the Lion entrance into the common room. It was then that Hermione sat on her bed, turned on the CD player, and cried. She didn't want to hurt Harry, and just the thought of what she had to tell him tomorrow made her so depressed that part of her didn't want there to be a tomorrow at all. He was killing his soul, and the audience would be the whole of Hogwarts, because as Dumbledore once said, "It's a secret, so naturally, everybody knows."

She couldn't sleep, so she slid her feet into her bunny rabbit slippers (a favourite of Crookshanks's) and padded into the main suite. On her way to the living area, she noticed a small watercolour on the wall opposite the desk. It was of a girl sitting beside a stream holding a basket of flowers. 'What I would give to be in your place' sighed Hermione.

'You really would, would you?' asked the girl, lifting her head and enquiring in a soft Irish accent. 'Have you come to go next door, or are ye' just vistin'?'

'Next door?' asked Hermione.

'Aye, has no-one told ye bout me?' asked the girl in a small voice.

'No, I'm sorry, I missed the end of the feast, and I don't even know who is next door.'

'Well, if ye be wantin' to visit next door, whoever 'tis will tell you the password, you tell it to me, and that thar' wall will open up.'

'Oh, right, thank you, I'll talk to you later.' Hermione was perplexed. She hoped that it wasn't Harry; she prayed to God that it wasn't Harry, because then it would be too easy for him to hope something was going to happen. Who could it be? Hermione chuckled to herself as she thought of Seamus or Neville as head boy. She almost forgot what she would have to do tomorrow and managed to get to sleep by midnight.

Hermione rolled over to see the sun streaming through the white French doors in her room. She had noticed them before, but had never paid much attention to them. She was curious as to what was outside. Flinging her feet at the floor, she stood perfectly upright, and realised that she was wearing her favourite nightie – a black satin slip with a low front and red hearts all over it. It looked raunchy, but Hermione had bought it because it was so comfortable. She glided over to the doors and pushed them open with both hands, flooding the room and her skin with pale morning light. It was a beautiful courtyard, paved with earthy tiles, a lions' head fountain on the far wall, shrubs and spread around in planter boxes and pots, a leafy grape vine forming an ornate canopy over one corner. There were several garden benches, and on one of them was the most horrific thing she had ever seen.