The Depths
by starzsong magick
Chapter 1

A/N: Okay, I'm actually writing again! It's been forever. I'm hoping to take this fanfic somewhere. It won't just be a (cheesy) romance, there's going to be some mystery, and danger, and Malfoy, and skulls, and Voldemort, and kidnappings, and... yeah. I'm not giving it all away because 1.) You'll have to read to find out, and 2.) I don't know what's going to happen myself. Read this and tell me if you think it has potential or not. If people like it, I'll continue, and if people don't, I'll rewrite and continue anyway. Because I think it's gonna be interesting.

Please tell me what you think; your input decides whether I continue or not.

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Something terrible had overcome Hermione in the last couple of days. She could not think straight, and received an overwhelming 7/10 on an arithmancy homework assignment. It had left her shocked into the night, where she had a horrible dream about a chase. Whenever she attempting to try something requiring use of the mind, it seemed as though a door had planted itself, locked, in front of the logical part of her brain. It was a very odd sensation, having never actually felt stupid before.

She could distinctly remember feeling something like someone's hand upon her cheek, but whenever she would reach to see, it would disappear. That would frustrate her to great extent, especially in the middle of a potion's exam.

Potions was definitely her worst subject, although Hermione suspected that she would like it better if Snape wasn't the teacher. Avoiding looking at anyone in the face (it only clouded her mind worse), she threw a beetle's leg into her cauldron. A hissing steam came up, and it frothed for a moment, then died calmly away. The potion turned a bright yellow color.

"Disgusting," she murmured vaguely.

The happy chatter of the class around her was but a low monotone in her ear. Ron and Harry were at cauldrons adjacent to her; they talked about the coming year, about taking the O.W.L.'s, and who to become the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.

"It'll be you, Harry," said Ron enthusiastically, stirring his potion, "Don't deny it. Everyone in Gryffindor's known for years that once Wood was gone, it would be you."

Harry tried not to blush. "Shut it, Ron," he said half-heartedly. "Hermione?"

She had not talked for some time, and it seemed wrong for her not to be scolding them for not concentrating on their potion.

"Mmm?"

"What's wrong?"

Hermione jumped. "What's what? Oh no, did I...?" She trailed off as she whipped around, looking for a mistake.

"Really, what's gotten into you?" Harry frowned, worried.

"Nothing... it's nothing."

Hermione bent over the table to her right, re-reading the recipe, then added the final ingredient, a cup of a solution the class had prepared ahead of time. It sat still in the cup, a murky olive green color. She started to dump it in the cauldron. Not looking at where she was aiming, half the liquid landed on the floor. Her classmates around her shrieked, and she woke up from her senseless state.

"Stupid! Stupid!" Snape snarled, as she shrank away from him. He pointed his wand at her, and she found herself wondering what he was going to turn her into; wait, what was wrong with her? There she went, again! No teacher would ever do a thing like that, even if it was Snape in question.

He twirled his wand in the direction of the spill and it collected itself from the dungeon floor. Hermione found herself staring at the previously-empty cup, now partly filled with the solution on the ground a moment ago. "Thank you, Professor," she said,

blushing the color of Neville's messed-up potion a few cauldrons away. She could hear it bubbling abnormally, and it reminded her of something... she couldn't recall what.

"Humph," Snape said, looking extremely annoyed, "Next time be more careful.

Oh, and ten points from Gryffindor," he added on second thought. He turned to go pick on others, or in the case of the Slytherins, praise them.

"Better than fifty," Harry said under her breath to Hermione.

She shook her head, and let her hair hang low so he couldn't see her face. Every day she was embarrassing herself like this, and she didn't like it. Not at all. Especially with Harry watching her every move... it was uncanny. Tonight she would go to bed early and wake up in the morning as late as possible. A good night's sleep would do her good. Yes, that was it. Lack of sleep equals lack of concentration, everybody knows that!

The rest of the class finished in a blur. Neville ended up with an overflowed potion which sent everyone nearby into a fumbling frenzy to jump onto something solid. Gryffindor lost ten more points, but Hermione missed it all.

As soon as Snape dismissed them, Hermione left the dungeon at a quick walk, hugging her books to her chest and keeping her head down low. She never noticed the worried glances Ron and Harry gave her as she left without them.


Hermione sat in the Great Hall the next morning at breakfast slightly more clear-headed than the day before. She grabbed an orange from the tray before her and busied herself with peeling it into the smallest pieces possible. It was oddly satisfying, and besides, it made her forget about that stupid dream she kept having. Only now, it ended in a locked door, but her wand was broken and she had no way to open it. It was this that frustrated her the most.

She jumped as Harry slammed down in the seat beside her. "Busy morning already," he said.

Hermione dropped her orange in temporary shock. She quickly bent down to retrieve it and resumed her activity.

"Why?" she said shakily.

Harry pulled a piece of toast off the platter and began buttering it. "I just finished Quidditch practice," he explained, "And so far we're clueless as how to begin. We need several new players to replace the ones who've moved on — and a coach to choose them. And no one seems to want to take charge."

"Hmm," said Hermione. She put the completely peeled orange on her plate. "Why don't you just have the remaining team members vote? Then whoever wins can be in charge of try-outs."

He frowned. "It's so simple, I can't believe I never thought of that!" He grinned, and Hermione had to look away to keep from smiling cheekily back. "I'm just not thinking this year."

She laughed. "You're not the only one who's not thinking."

Harry reached across her for an orange also, and Hermione found herself shiver slightly.

"Cold?" asked Harry.

She didn't know how to answer that. "Er... yeah. I guess." Her face was growing hot by the minute, and Hermione began to wonder if it would be possible to grill on it.

"I'll walk you up to the dormitory to get a sweater in a minute if you want," said Harry, "Just let me finish eating." He shoved the rest of the toast into his mouth.

"No... it's okay," said Hermione. How could she tell him she wasn't actually cold?

Harry finished the rest of the toast and stood up. "Come on."

Hermione stood up silently and they walked together down toward the exit. A piece of flying bacon barely missed her head as she ducked, but it flew into Harry, leaving a patch of grease on his cheek. Laughter broke out behind them.

"Sorry!" yelled a Hufflepuff. "I have bad aim!"

Hermione giggled as he wiped his face on his sleeve. Harry's face broke into a relieved smile. "It's about time you laughed!" he said. "Me and Ron were getting scared."

Her brown eyes met his green ones for a brief moment. "Yeah," she said, almost breathlessly, "So was I."