Colourful Sunset

Disclaimer: Not mine. Only the plot's mine.

A/N: Thanks to: Rebecca, KeeperOfTheMoon, MoonDancerCat, KAOS, Hp1fan, MaliShka, Akida Lupin, Yousei Kaijou, JoeBob1379, Red Magic Marker, mutsumi, lexi wood, EclipseKlutz, christie, plastic, willowfairy, Queen Li, The Elfin Child, ~* paper star *~, L.Meylan, Wormmon ABC, SemiCharmed, Draconis, Joynspirit, Angel: da Newsies fan, draconas, aliveforever83, kei-chan, Dragonsbane, Weasley Pride, CrysMaul, Sao, saj aneri, firey fairy, Purple People Eater, dixiedogbud, Zubie, fallsauce!

Questions: For the millions of you who asked: no, the mystery person is NOT a house elf! Well, they're bound to serve their master who is in this case Dumbledore and would not permit them to attack students. *listens to sounds of elves slamming ears in oven doors* See what you made them do?

Notes: The writer's block is receding, although some part of me went a bit over the top describing sunsets… anyway, this chapter has more Draco and some plot developments. It's better than the last, or so I think! Read and enjoy.

~*~

Evening fell over Hogwarts. It was a glorious winter sunset, the kind that heralds a sharp and icy night. Icicles were already forming on trees, shining in the last rays of light like diamond stalactites, and the entire world was blanketed in a crisp layer of frost.

The sky itself was a painter's paradise: black in the furthest ease, merging to deep purple and cobalt. Nearer the sunset it was cornflower blue, with majestic clouds in subtle shades of grey and white. Close to the horizon, pinks and golds laced the underside of the clouds, while the dying sun wrote its gilded elegy across the sky.

Through all this colourful turmoil walked the two figures of Draco and Hermione, the frost crunching under their feet as they walked around the lake, ripples picked out by sunlight, and ice already beginning to form where the trees cast their shade.

They didn't talk about anything much: about school that day, or about books they'd read, or about the sunset. It was as if to talk about anything else was to make it real, to accept it.

Draco had a theory that there was a set of unseen rules in life. Some were obvious, like Slytherins didn't like Gryffindors – himself being an exception. Most were subtler and had to do with manners, and taboo subjects, and politeness, and embarrassment. These were the rules that most annoyed him, because there didn't seem to be any reason for their existence.

Now there seemed to be one of these unseen rules coming into play – one that prohibited talking about their past or Draco's father. Well, Draco was a Slytherin. The rules were made for him to break.

'Are you worried about my father?' he asked, trying to make it sound as casual as possible. Hermione still gave him a sharp sideways glance.

'Yes, of course.' she replied cautiously. 'But I think Harry and Ron are more worried than I am. And…' she chanced, 'I think you're really worried too.'

Draco kept his face carefully empty as he met her gaze. He didn't want her to see just how afraid he was for her. After all, he knew what his father was capable of… and if he could arrange for her to be killed painfully and slowly he would. He would have her murdered as brutally as possible, partly to make it a more punishing lesson, partly because he enjoyed causing pain.

He broke his gaze away from hers, not answering her statement directly. 'You should be on your guard. He – his agent – could attack at any time.'

Hermione nodded slightly. 'Do you have any idea who it might be? The person who he and Voldemort are going to use to kill me?'

'He said it was someone we wouldn't expect…. Which pretty much leaves it open to anything. But we know it won't be a Slytherin at least, because we'd expect that.'

'Unfortunately that still leaves most of the school.' Hermione sighed.  'Let's not talk about this. Talk about… Oh, I don't know. Tell me something. Something I've forgotten.'

Draco thought. 'Have you heard the story of the canary cream?' Seeing Hermione's negative shake of the head, he continued. 'As much as I hate to recall this incident, I have to admit it has its funny side…'

~*~

Hermione rifled through her bag for the book she had taken from the library. Where was the cursed thing? It had to be a law of nature, thought Hermione as she dumped a pile of parchments on the table, that whatever you wanted was always in the very bottom of the bag…

Finally she found it: a small, slim book with a purple and gold cover and a rather Muggle-like plastic cover. A curving golden title announced that this was, 'Memory Charms: How To Overcome Them Using Muggle Amnesia Cures, by Sylvia Grayson.'

Turning to the first page, she began to read.

Memory Charms differ greatly from the Muggle types of amnesia. The memory charm is far more specific in its usage, with the ability to erase any or all of a person's memories. The more memories that are lost, the easier it is to regain them. If a large amount of personal experience is lost, then it has a tendency to slip back into the mind. Muggle amnesia cures can help, as many of them have been designed to facilitate the retrieval of memory.

Half an hour later, Hermione set down the book, face thoughtful. The techniques seemed easy enough: it was a matter of concentrating very hard and allowing the subconscious to throw up memories.

The common room around her was quiet: nearly empty, for most people liked an early night when there was school the next day. The fire was dying down now, and the atmosphere in the room was relaxed and friendly.

So why didn't she try the techniques now? The worst she could do was fail… and quiet, relaxed conditions were supposed to be best. She concentrated, deciding to focus on the story Draco had told her that day. Surely Draco-the-canary would be a particularly memorable event?

She concentrated trying to think of what must have happened without imagining things. The tables had been over there, and they had been sitting over here…

Fifteen minutes of concentration later, Hermione was beginning to feel rather silly. So far nothing had happened, and she doubted anything would tonight… Yawning, the picked up the book and dropped it back into her bag. Time for bed…

And then, flashing into her mind, came…

A canary, paler-feathered than most, looking irately at her, and she was laughing at the expression on its face because it still looked like Draco even through the feathers…

Hermione started, and the memory vanished. Had it been a memory? It had felt like one…

Feeling strangely shaken, she shoved her parchments roughly into her bag and headed for her room, still wondering if what just happened had really been a memory or just imagination. She would have to ask someone about it.

~*~

'How long was your homework?' Ron asked Hermione, his brow furrowed. 'I'm sure mine was too short, he asked for four feet and mine was at least an inch off. Do you think he'll take marks off for that?'

'He's Snape, of course he'll take marks off.' Hermione pointed out. They were walking through a fairly empty hallway, bags slung over shoulders and heading for Potions class. 'This isn't the best time to start worrying about it. You should have written some more last night.'

'Yes, but I couldn't find anything!' Ron exclaimed in exasperation.

Hermione raised an eyebrow – an expression she had subconsciously picked up from Draco, although she didn't know it. 'Couldn't find anything or didn't look for anything?'

Harry stepped in. 'He was looking, I was there. He even borrowed some of your books when you weren't looking.'

'Well, you'll just have to hand it in short and hope he doesn't measure them all.' Hermione said. 'Mine was four and a half feet, of course he only gave us two days to do it so I would have done more if I'd had the time…'

Hermione opened her schoolbag and rifled through it, looking for her Potions essay. There was the sheet full of Runic vocabulary, and the Charms test from last week with a 120% mark, and the neatly penned notes on Mokes from Care of Magical Creatures…

Hermione's insides froze as she realised the Potions essay was missing.

'It's not here!' she exclaimed, desperately searching through her bag for the piece of parchment.

'What?' asked Harry, turning towards her. 'Where is it?'

'I don't know!' Hermione was frantic now, tearing through her bag like a frenzied whirlwind. 'Where could it be… oh, Snape's going to kill me!'

'Calm down.' Ron said. 'Could you have left it somewhere? In the dorms? In the common room?'

Hermione thought. 'Yes… I was looking for a book in my bag and I took most of the things in here out… I put them on a table near the fireplace. But… I don't have time to go get it now! I'll be late! Snape will be so mad!'

'He'll be madder if you don't have that homework.' Harry pointed out. 'He said specifically it was important, we needed to do that research for the summer exams…'

'Go get it!' Ron told her. 'Go now! Hurry!'

Hermione nodded and hurried off at full speed down the corridor. Harry glanced at his watch.

'Five minutes till the bell goes.'

'She's not going to make it.' Ron said gloomily.

'Well at least she'll have her homework.' Harry pointed out, and they set off together to Potions.

~*~

Hermione shoved the parchment roughly into her bag before fleeing the deserted common room. How could she have been so careless? She ought to have checked, ought to have made sure that she had her homework… idiot!

Her footsteps thudded through the corridors as she raced to get to class on time. Her heartbeat thudded through her ears, mingling with her silent chant – please don't let the bell ring, please don't let the bell ring, please don't let the bell ring!

The corridors were deserted, empty of people as she raced through the network of passageways. If only the Potions classroom wasn't so far away! She hefted her bag up, pulling it back onto the shoulder from which it had dared to slip as she ran. Hurry, hurry, hurry!

She was running so fast that she was bound to slip sooner or later, and slip she did, skidding painfully across the wooden floor. She winced, feeling splinters drive into her legs and palms.

'Ow.' she muttered to herself where she came to a stop. That blasted bag had slipped all the way down, the straps managing to cling on to her wrist. She pulled her hands free and attempted to stand.

It was only then she realised, with a burst of horror, that she hadn't slipped at all. She had been attacked with a simple – but effective – leg-locker charm.

Her head whipped upright, and she grabbed her bag, fumbling for her wand in its depths. 'Show yourself. I know there's someone there.' she said, sounding a lot less scared than she felt. Every shadow seemed to take on a sinister appearance, every doorway was one from which a monster could spring at any instant. And what would spring out at her? She grasped the reassuring handle of her wand.

'Greetings, Miss Granger.' The voice came from behind her, and Hermione's head whipped round to see its owner. The voice itself had been chilling: full of coldness and malice. It was also unexpectedly female; a fact that couldn't be discerned from the figure itself, which was hidden in a midnight-black robe. A hood was pulled over the face, and from it's immaculate appearance Hermione could tell it had been charmed to stay upright.

'Who are you?' she spat, trying to buy time. Surreptitiously, she drew the wand from her bag and muttered the reversal spell, freeing her legs. She kept them stiff as possible, realising that it could prove a surprise factor later.

'And why should I tell you?' said the voice, strangely familiar. Hermione tried hard to place it.

'I don't know.' Hermione shrugged casually. 'Maybe because… Convulsio!' she shouted, attacking the figure without warning. The figure's hand – the only area of their body visible – began to shake, and Hermione heard a gasp of pain. With a grim smile, she clambered to her feet, before readying herself to immobilise her enemy. This would all be over in a second…

But in spite of the cramps in her hand, the figure had her wand raised, shaking but aimed directly at Hermione. 'Speculum!' she shouted, and Hermione flinched in anticipation of the pain…

It didn't come. Had the cramps made her miss? Hermione straightened, lifted her wand arm… to discover that her left arm moved instead of her right. What was more, her wand was in it. She tried moving it right to point to her attacker, whose smirk Hermione could not see but could sense. Her arm moved left, away from the figure.

She barely had time to realise what was happening: that somehow she was seeing a mirror image of the real world, before the figure shouted, 'Acidus!' and a blaze of pain erupted across her arm. She fell to the floor, gasping back the pain, hearing the mirthless chuckle of her attacker ring in her ears…

~*~

A/N: Cliffhanger… tee hee!

There was a lot of Latin in this chapter – 'Convulsio' means 'cramp', 'Speculum' means 'mirror' and 'Acidus' means unsurprisingly 'acid'.

So, what will happen to Hermione? Will she be rescued or will she die? And more importantly, what will happen to her potions homework?

You'll just have to wait for the next chapter. And you can berate me for the cliffie by leaving a review. Flames will be donated to the Chemistry labs at school, which are in dire need of matches to light Bunsen burners…