Harry soared through the air, ignoring Malfoy's insinuating presence at his shoulder, his entire being focused on the Snitch. He knew that if they won this match, Gryffindor would win the Cup. However, the same could be said for Slytherin, who were level-pegging with their rival House. But Harry also had his sweetheart supporting him, and Slytherin were not about to do anything to incur her anger, even something as trivial as winning the Quidditch House Cup. Part of him was outraged at this easy win, but another part of him was thankful for it. He'd not had a decent night's sleep in weeks.

Since the school's return after Easter, Voldemort had been making nightly excursions to Hermione's bedside, sitting by her, unable to speak or even move, for fear of waking her and seeing her frightened eyes upon him. Because of his presence so close, Harry had been woken frequently by searing pain on his brow that sent him stumbling through the tower to Hermione's side. Voldemort would be gone by the time he arrived, but Hermione would be awake, wide-eyed, and ready to collapse into his arms, sobbing in terror.

He was instantly aware of a Bludger heading straight their way, and ducked to avoid it. The six-pound rock hit Malfoy square on the forehead, knocking him out cold. Harry was left, as the only Seeker on the pitch, to find the Snitch and catch it, before the same could happen to him.

The little golden ball whizzed past his face, it's tiny wing cutting his cheek as it swerved to avoid him. Ignoring the pain, Harry swooped down after it, spurred on by the cheers of his Housemates. He threw out a hand, and his fingers closed on the whirring shape, holding it high so that everyone could see he had caught it.

He flew down to Hermione's side, slipping off the broom and presenting her with the Snitch, before taking her in his arms and kissing her thoroughly, amid raucous cheers. Blushing, she pushed away slightly, smiling up at her handsome boyfriend. Once again, Harry was struck by how lucky he was to have her, and how easily she could have preferred Ron over him. Hermione kissed his nose lightly, laying her head on his shoulder as they made their way back up to the school, and the celebrations in the common room.

As they passed an open doorway, Harry pulled Hermione inside, capturing her lips with his own. As she sighed into him, her arms sliding around his neck, he pulled her closer to him, his hands wandering over her back. With a gentle nudge of his tongue, her lips parted, allowing him access to the sweetness within. His lips moved hungrily over hers, as she moaned into his mouth, caught up in the intensity of her feelings for him.

Slowly they parted, their faces held close together as they looked into each other's eyes.

'I love you, 'Mione,' Harry whispered, dropping light kisses on her brow.

Hermione's arms tightened around him. With tears of joy sparkling in her cinnamon eyes, she breathed,

'I know.'



*~*~*



She walked the halls of a darkened house, unafraid. She had never been inside the building, yet somehow knew her way around it as if she had lived there all her life. Making her way towards an open door, through which light streamed invitingly, she wondered if she was brave, or merely foolish.

Stepping through, she was reminded of Christmases at home, when she would sit by the fireside, and listen to her grandfather tell her tales of magic, and love. The room was lit by a single fire, that burned brightly enough to reveal row upon row of books lining the walls. Instantly, she felt safe. For some reason, being surrounded by books always made her feel safe.

She walked around the walls, a delighted smile curving her lips as she recognised the names of some of her favourite books. Slowly, she became aware of another presence in the room.

'Do you like my library?'

Turning, she saw a chair by the fireside, a man sitting in it, a book open on his lap.

'Yes, I do,' she said, candidly. 'I've always loved books.'

The man smiled nostalgically.

'So did your mother.'

She stared at him, wondering why she was so fearless, why he seemed so fatherly towards her all of a sudden.

'I wanted to explain, my daughter. There are some things that have been left unclear.'

He beckoned for her to sit beside him. She did so, pushing her fingers into the thick pile of the rug with delight.

'You wonder why I am not so fearsome now as I have been before?' he asked, smiling down at her hesitant nod. 'This is because you are meeting with my former self, the man I was before I became Voldemort.'

He shifted in the chair, and began to speak, his soft voice flowing over her like honey.

'My name is Tom Riddle, and I once attended Hogwarts, like you. There was always something strange about me, even back then, which made even Dumbledore wary of me. I found life unbearable, people distrusted me because of my views, and shunned me. I was quite possibly the loneliest person in the world.

'Then I met Aline Kettleburn. She was the first person to try and see past the mask I held in front of me, to the person I really was. I had never known love until Aline. My parents had hated me from the moment of my birth, and so I did away with them, for never caring enough to help me. Aline stood by me through many years of torment, despite my apparent hatred of her. She remained my constant companion, never quite allowing herself to believe that I was all bad. It was only when she became pregnant with you, and refused to allow me to hide you, that I was forced to take matters into my own hands.

'But the man who killed your mother was Voldemort, the part of me who never loved, or was loved in return. I, Tom Riddle, was powerless to stop him as he struck down the only person I'd ever loved. But then, he held you in his arms, and I felt us both moved by the love we felt for you. You are our daughter. We may love you in different ways, have different expectations of you, but we will always stand by you.'

The room around them began to shimmer. Sharp beams of angry red light tore between the cracks on the bookshelves. Tom Riddle looked at her in panic, determined to say what he had come to say.

'He is trying to reach us before I can finish,' he said, falling to the floor to kneel before his daughter. 'Remember this, Hermione. Whatever happens, however he tries to lure you to his side, know that I am proud of you. Of who you are. You are the one good thing that has come out of my dark life, and I will fight him with every ounce of my being to keep you that way.'

The ground shook, and the man before her convulsed, his back arching in pain. She clutched his shoulders as his hands grasped at her for support.

'Please, Hermione,' he rasped, 'you must promise me this. Whatever the consequences, follow your heart. It will never lead you astray. That is what led to my downfall. Do not let it lead to yours. Promise me.'

'I promise,' she whispered, watching in terror as his face changed, from the gentle quiet man who loved her so much, to the cold expressionless features of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

He squeezed her arms painfully hard, his eyes burning with anger.

'You promise what?'

She pulled away from him, crawling backwards in fear. The bookcases were disappearing, the fire dying away. She was surrounded by red light, the only shadow being the man who towered above her.

'Remember this, Hermione,' he said, in a manner that reminded her sickeningly of Tom, 'I am your father, and you WILL obey me!'

She screamed, the sound tearing from her throat as she sat bolt upright in bed, to find Harry's arms about her, and her friends staring in fear.

'Hush, now,' Harry was saying, 'it's all right, we're here. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise.'

I promise. The memory of the loving father trapped within the crazed murderer rendered Hermione speechless, and she fell into Harry's embrace with a cry of such anguish, he was momentarily thrown off guard. He held her tightly, hoping to block out the pain with his love for her, knowing that nothing could protect her from the dreadful truth.