The Seventh Moon

Author: IcyFire

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Sooner or later, light will shine upon even the darkest secrets, and when Hermione stumbles upon a terrible truth that was meant to be forever concealed, she is thrown into utter confusion and suddenly feels completely lost in the world around her. And when Draco Malfoy, who does not yet realize his own important part in fate, steps in and tempts her with an offer she can't refuse, Hermione is faced with the decision that will change her life and ultimately decide the fate of the wizarding world. Thousands of years ago, when the gods still roamed the earth and the legendary oracles wove intricate prophecies, fate had paved a path, and destiny had chosen her to walk it. Through it all, a powerful, burning love will arise. Can love really conquer all? Or will she succumb to her fate? This is the story of her plight to change destiny and follow the stirrings of her own heart.

A/N: This is the second chapter and it is a little stupid. The real plot of the story won't begin to come out until probably either chapter three or four. The little details in chapter one and two are really important to the plot and will come into play later.

Thanks to my reviewers: shadowcat, ..., c_fleurbleue, hope, 'div, Blue Snowflake, and HouAreYouToday

Disclaimer: As much as I would like to believe that all of this is mine, unfortunately, it's not except the plot.

~*~

The Seventh Moon

Chapter Two

Hermione peeked tentatively into the classroom and made sure that Professor Binn's back was turned towards her before she dared to tip-toe inside. Observing that the seat between Harry and Ron was empty, she slipped into it silently. She set her books softly on the table and pulled out a piece of parchment. Reaching into her bag again, she drew out a small quill with a purple feather on it.

As soon as she had settled herself, Ron nudged her. "Where've you been?"

She shook her head at him. Talking was most definitely not something she would do while the professor was lecturing.

Dipping her quill into the black ink, she began to scribble down some notes. Okay, so maybe she was scribbling down everything Professor Binns was saying. It even amazed her that her hands never got tired. She could write and write and write and keep on writing while others in her place would probably at least have to take a five-minute break.

She was so engrossed in her note-taking that she didn't even notice someone had entered the room until Professor Binns words stopped and her quill halted on the parchment. With an annoyed sigh she looked up from the parchment and her gaze met a wizard that she had never seen before. He was short and was wearing a hideous brown robe with red stripes across it. The hair at the top of his head was thinning and his eyes were droopy. Hermione thought he looked liked a dog.

Professor Binns, after briefly speaking to this mystery man, scanned the room and motioned for her to walk up to him. Unfortunately, he also summoned Draco, for what purpose Hermione didn't know and didn't really care to know either. She hoped it didn't have to do anything with her being late. He couldn't have seen, could he? She reassured herself that Binns would not have called up Draco if he was just going to tell her to serve detention for her tardiness.

"This is the photographer for the Daily Prophet, and he has expressed his wish to put a picture of the Head Girl and Head Boy, you two, into the newspaper," Professor Binns droned in his monotonous voice.

Out of all the days they could have picked to take pictures it just had to be today, didn't it? Hermione cursed the Daily Prophet silently.

"I want you to stand right here," said the man, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and shifting her closer to Draco. He, however, scooted farther away, leaving quite a large space between them two. It wasn't until after the photographer motioned urgently for him to move toward her that he finally, with a disgusted look, closed the gap between them.

The photographer picked up the camera that was in his hands and held it up to his eyes. It took a few minutes for him to adjust the camera and then finally he was ready to take the picture.

"Smile."

Hermione was about to put on a nice, flashy smile - that is, until she remembered the incident earlier that morning. She had spent an hour trying to get all the tar off of her teeth - which was the reason why she was late to the class, but it had not done much. He must have charmed it so that it would stick - and stick well to whatever it was put on. That reminded her that the person who caused her so much grief over her teeth was none other than the boy was currently standing next to her. She wanted to strangle him.

Instead, she grinned sweetly into the camera, hoping that it was close enough to a smile. It was actually a difficult task - curling up the sides of her lips while preventing any of her teeth to show.

The photographer shook his head at her. "Smile."

With obvious effort, she tried as hard as she could to curl her lips up just a little more. The photographer was still not pleased and was frowning upon her. Before she realized it, he had whipped out his hand and whispered a spell that was very familiar. What was it? Then suddenly she knew - it was the laughing spell.

Before she could turn around, she had already begun to laugh, displaying her tar-stained teeth to the whole class.

Click.

Okay, so there went her whole life. She was so embarrassed - not only had her classmates seen the condition of her teeth, the whole wizarding world as about to - just as soon as the next edition of the Daily Prophet came out.

"Finite Incantatem!"

She stopped laughing and scowled, pushing past the photographer and returning to her seat. She had lost all her chances of ever becoming the Minister of Magic. After all, who wanted a minister with bad teeth? And her teeth were beyond just bad.

Her eyes began to wander around the room as her mind drifted off into the ocean of imagination to cool off from the humiliation. Suddenly, she caught a pair of eyes staring intently at her. Snapping back into reality, she saw Draco Malfoy's silvery eyes settle on her with a look of absolutely rapture. She clenched her fists so hard that her knuckles turned white and vowed to seek her revenge.

~*~

"That photographer should be sued."

"Hermione, really, it's not that bad."

"What do you mean 'it's not that bad'? Look at the condition of my teeth!" She spat out venomously as she grabbed a bowl of salad on the table and began to pour some italian dressing over it.

Harry put down his fork and wiped his mouth with the corner of his napkin. "Okay, so your teeth do look terrible - "

" - but Malfoy could have done worse," Ron finished for him.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm surprised actually," said Harry. "Usually he doesn't let people off the hook that easily."

"Maybe he's scared of me," Hermione said taking another bite of the watermelon. "After all, I've been thinking of a million ways to get back at him. He should be scared of me."

"Maybe," Ron said, although he didn't sound so sure of it.

It was very doubtful - and all of them knew it.

~*~

"I swear, Snape is trying to murder us with his tests!" Ron exclaimed as the trio stepped out from the darkness of the dungeons.

"I completely agree - he doesn't ever tell us half the stuff that's on there!" Harry said. "Don't you agree, Hermione?"

"Wait, don't ask her, Harry! Her opinion doesn't count!"

Hermione, who was a few steps in front of the boys, spun around. "It wasn't that hard - all you had to do was to read the chapter - everything was in there."

"The chapter was seventy-two pages long!" Ron cried. "Did he really expect us to remember everything in it?"

"Honestly, Ron, it wasn't hard at all," she said sternly, but then frowned. "Except for one of the bonus questions I did have a bit of trouble with. I couldn't quite remember all the seven sicknesses that wolf hair could be used for, but I hope I got them all right."

"Are you going back to the common room?" Harry asked her. "Or the library?"

"The common room," she said, "to write my essay."

Harry nodded. "Alright, that's where Ron and I were going."

To their surprise, she suddenly swept past them. Harry was about to speak up and ask what her problem was, but she turned around and spoke first. "But first, I really need to use the bathroom."

And with that, she hurried into the girl's bathroom, her robe swishing behind her.

Upon entering, she took in the smell of a hundred different perfumes filling the air. It was so thick that she could almost see the swirls of perfumes circling in the air. For a moment, she almost choked.

There was only one working toilet in the bathroom and that stall unfortunately was currently taken. Soon, however, Hermione heard the flush of the toilet and the lock turned. Out stepped her favorite person in the world.

Pansy Parkinson.

Hermoine didn't even bother to pretend she was glad to see her. She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and pursed her lips.

Pansy, however, took a completely different approach.

"Oh, how nice to see you here," she said in her very fake honeyed voice, which Hermione couldn't stand. "How are you?"

"Just fine," Hermione said, not attempting to be polite. In fact, she tried to sound as snotty and arrogant as she could.

"I'll just be a second, I forgot my purse." Pansy hurried back into the stall, shutting the door with a loud bang behind her. She spent about a minute in there, for what reason Hermione didn't know. She didn't care either - all she wanted to do was to use the bathroom. Hermione cursed her for taking so long - for God's sake she had to pee!

When Pansy reemerged, Hermione noticed that she still didn't have her purse.

"Oh, dear me, I must have left it in the dungeons." She flashed Hermione another sugary smile before flipping her hair and sauntering out of the bathroom.

Hermione made a face towards her retreating back. It smelled so much nice now that Pansy was gone. Hermione couldn't stand the girl. Just like all the rest of the Slytherins, Pansy Parkinson belonged to a very prominent wizarding family who didn't deserve all the money they had. Her family, like the others, worshipped He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and practiced the dark arts. So it was no surprise to her when she heard rumors last week that Pansy was to get the Dark Mark in just a few months.

After Pansy had left for good, she entered the stall. Finally, after waiting for so long, she could use the toilet. It was too good to be true.

A minute later, when she was done, she quickly stood up. Except she didn't. She couldn't. She tried again. She couldn't budge.

It was then that she realized the hopelessness of her situation. Her derriere was planted firmly on the toilet seat and she couldn't get it off.

She attempted a few more times not wanting to give up, but it did absolutely nothing. Damn, she was in a mess.

This bathroom was near the dungeons. Nobody ever came near the dungeons unless they had Potions. Who'd willing want to be around Snape? And unfortunately, classes had just ended for the day. There was no hope of anyone stumbling into this desolate bathroom and saving her.

The thought of being stuck there all night didn't serve to raise Hermione's spirits. Instead, she put her head down gloomily onto her knees and whimpered. She was ready to cry. Any moment now, the tears would start flowing. It was going to be a long night.

Of course she knew who had done this. Pansy Parkinson, that little wrench. What purse? I was so obvious that she had come in here to put a spell on the toilet. Hermione hated herself for being so stupid. Pansy was probably serving under the orders of her beloved Draco Malfoy. Hermione hated both of them. Hell, she hated all the Slytherins.

Anger arose inside of her and it completely consumed her. She hated him. She hated her. She wanted to shove both of their pretty little faces down the toilet. God, damn, she hated them. She hated how they treated her. She hated how they treated everyone. The Slytherins have always thought they were the best house. And sure, maybe they were the best in the dark arts but Hermione never found that fact so magnificent to be bragging about. She hoped that one day when they were all big bad death eaters that she would be the auror who caught them. That, she decided, would be her new goal in life. Screw being the minister.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally heard a noise that sounded relatively like "Hermione."

She wondered if it was her imagination. After all, being in a situation like this could cause hallucination in even the sanest of people, but decided she might as well try.

"I'm here!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

There was a long pause in which she sunk back into misery, realizing that the voice was just a pigment of her imagination. And then -

"You're still in there?" The voice belonged to Ron.

"Aren't you done yet?" She recognized this as Harry's voice.

She made a sound in her throat, almost like a wail. "Help me!"

There was another pause. God, she hoped they didn't leave. "It's the girl's bathroom..."

"Get in here!" she cried with such stubbornness that they finally followed her orders.

It was so much easier to talk once they were in the bathroom, Hermione realized. She didn't even have to yell anymore.

"Help me, you idiots!"

"Have you been turned into a cat again? What have you been trying to do this time?" Ron said exasperatedly.

Hermione really didn't want to tell them. She really didn't. But, as they were her only source of hope, she sort of had to.

"I can't get up."

Pause.

"What do you mean you can't get up?"

It was too embarrassing to say. She didn't want to tell them. What would they think? Would they laugh? Then she realized that she would find out one way or another and she really wanted to get off this toilet as soon as possible. Ok, she'd spill it all.

"I mean I can't get my butt off the toilet seat!"

Pause.

"What?" came two shocked voices in perfect unison.

"My butt is glued to the toilet seat. Do I need to repeat it for you? Glued to toilet seat, glued to toilet seat, glued to toilet seat..."

Another pause.

"What?"

"Honestly, is that all you two can say?" When there was no answer, she grew frustrated. "Get me off of here!"

"Okay, so we'll come and unscrew the toilet seat from the toilet," said Ron, after pondering for a short second.

"And what? Have me walk back to my room with a toilet seat on my butt?" came Hermione's frustrated voice from inside the stall.

"Here, let us see what exactly is going on," said Harry as footsteps neared her stall door. Was he going to just barge in?

"No!" she cried frantically as she leaned forward and pressed against the stall door. "You can't come in! I haven't got my pants on!"

"Then there's only one thing we can do..."

"What?"

"We'll go get McGonagall."

"No!" she cried in terror. What would her favorite professor in the world think of her if she found her in such a predicament?

"It's our only choice."

"No!"

"Fine, I guess we'll have to leave you here."

"Wait!" she cried. God, she hoped they wouldn't just leave here there. Okay, so she'd agree with them. It would be better than being stuck here all night.

"Okay, fine."

~*~

It would be too much of an understatement to say that Hermione was cranky the next morning. She was angry and humiliated - all her pride and her dignity had vaporized. After Professor McGonagall had come to her rescue, despite the fact that it was horribly embarrassing, she was able to remove her from the toilet seat at last.

So here she was now, hunched gloomily over her bowl of porridge, stirring it aimlessly. She was really in a very bad mood.

And it certainly didn't make it better when she caught Draco grinning at her from the Slytherin table, wearing a look of absolute ecstasy on his face. He was happy that he had humiliated her - felt no remorse whatsoever. What kind of a person was he? Her eyes darkened as a fire began to burn within her. She hated him. She hated him with an unsurpassable passion. She couldn't even explain or put in words how absolutely disgusted he made her feel. She wanted to stick a knife into his neck right then and there. She wanted to pull his strands of silver hair one by one out of his head and cut his body into little pieces and...

The shiny silver spoon she was stirring her porridge with came down with a smack onto the wooden table. The sudden sound caused every Gryffindor's eyes to shoot up and focus on her.

With a stubborn determination she pushed the bowl away and stood up stiffly from the chair, her eyes glazed. Not giving a second thought or caring to notice the worried looks on her friends' faces, she stomped across the hall, her shoes clunking on the stone floor with every step she took.

Before she knew it, her legs had carried her over to none other than Draco Malfoy. God, she hated him. And then it all came out in a torrent of anger.

"You really think you're on top of the world don't you? You think that just because your daddy's got mountains of gold in Gringotts you can do anything you want to. Well guess what? You thought wrong!" she screamed into his face. "You're nothing but a spoiled brat. You've never worked for anything in your life! You want a broomstick? Daddy buys you a broomstick. You want to play quidditch? Daddy buys you into the team. You think you're God in this school but you're really just a little boy who has never minded any manners, never cared about anyone besides your own filthy self! I hate you!"

Before he could answer - she didn't want to hear his answer anyway - she grabbed one of the glasses of milk sitting on the table and turned it upside down over his head. His hair became drenched as the white liquid dribbled down his face and stained his velvet robes.

Hermione instantly regretted ever doing that. She regretted coming up to his table and yelling at him. She regretted everything. The look on his face was enough to scare her clear out of her wits. And she knew that she was in for it.

~*~

"Okay, so now you're really in for it."

"Thanks, Parvati, for repeating the obvious to me." She had spoken Hermione's exact thoughts.

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't know...I really don't know," Hermione answered honestly. "I don't really want to think about it."

Parvati twirled her black hair in her fingers playfully. "I'm thinking that - "

" - Miss Patil, if you would refrain from speaking during class," came the voice of Professor Atumul. She was a middle-aged witch with dark, tanned skin and large black eyes that could almost read into your soul. She spoke with a slight Egyptian accent - it sounded very exotic in Hermione's opinion.

"Sorry," said Parvati, ducking her head to hide her blush.

"Now, as I'm sure you have all done your reading last night, I would like to start a class discussion about the material covered. I'm sure you've all found great interest in the legend and..."

As the professor's voice continued, Parvarti groaned and massaged her aching temples. "Hermione, remind me again why I decided to take this course."

"Because Ancient Egyptian history is very interesting," said Hermione in a hurried whisper. She usually didn't talk during classes, but today - well, today was just special. "And I know that you'd like to be able to read hieroglyphics."

"Miss Granger."

Hermione's head shot up and she hoped that the professor had not heard her whispers.

"Yes, Professor?" she said sweetly, crossing her fingers.

"Please, tell me what you thought about the reading."

Hermione released a relieved sigh - the professor hadn't noticed. "Of course it was very interesting to read about that particular legend. I thoroughly enjoyed it."

Professor Atumul turned her gaze upon Parvati, much to her displeasure. "Miss Patil, would you please give the class a brief summary about the reading?"

Parvati's eyes grew wide with horror and her complexion turned deathly pale. She glanced towards her friend for help and nudged arm. Hermione sighed with a small shake of her head and knew that Parvati had not done reading. She was very disappointed in Parvati and her glare showed it. However, she wasn't going to just let her friend sink to the pits.

"If you would like, Professor, I would love give my summary of it," said Hermione, stepping in for her friend. Parvarti gave her an appreciative look and sunk down into her seat with relief.

"Yes, please, go on," said the professor with a graceful wave of her hand.

"The reading was centered on the mysteries of the Pharoah Mentuemhat. The legend goes that he came in to power when he was very young due to his father's early death, and ruled his people fairly and justly. However, he mysteriously died young and there are many stories that try to explain his death. Some say that he sold his soul to the devil, while others say that he was murdered by his wife, Queen Sithathoryunet. The reading addressed the fact that he might have not even existed and might just be a story that was passed on. There is no evidence of him - just tales by mouth passed on from generation to generation."

The professor smiled upon Hermione, her black eyes glittering. "Do you believe it?"

"No," she answered confidently, "it's all just rubbish in my opinion. They've tried to find his tomb for years and have not succeeded. Unless they have actual proof, I don't believe a word of it. Although some do argue that his tomb was probably destroyed by grave robbers, I still doubt the story. It's just an Egyptian fairy tale."

"Ah, but all fairy tales have truths behind them," she said, and then addressed the whole class. "I myself, born and raised in Egypt, believe the legend, as do all other Egyptians. There are many stories surrounding the event of his death - too many to name, but I believe he existed." She almost looked sad for a moment, but that moment passed as quickly as it had come. "Alright, enough of that, please look at the symbols I have drawn on the board and use what you have learned from past classes to decipher it."

The rest of the class went by smoothly - Hermione worked diligently while Parvati saw it as nap-time. Hermione took very few minutes to translate the line of symbols on the board. She, of course, had studied. Egyptian history had always intrigued her for some reason and she loved learning about it. There was just something that pulled her magnetically to it, although she couldn't name the feeling. She practically had the whole textbook memorized. Parvati on the other hand had never even touched her textbook. So it wasn't surprising that she just copied Hermione's answers right off her parchment and passed it off as her own.

When class finally ended, Parvati left to meet Seamus and Hermione met up with Harry and Ron, who had just finished with Divination. The three headed down to Hagrid's hut for tea. They hadn't talked to him in quite a while and were anxious to see him.

"I can't believe Trelawney assigned us so much homework."

"That class is so dull. It's obvious she's a fake," muttered Ron.

Hermione gave them the I-told-you-so look. "What did I tell you guys? You should have switched out of her class years ago. But would you listen to me? No! It's your own fault."

The three friends were deep in conversation as they crossed the freshly cut grass, but Hermione took in the smell of smoke.

"Smell that?" asked Ron. Hermione was glad she wasn't the only one who smelled it. She had thought that maybe her nose had gone funny.

"Yes. Where's it coming from?"

Harry traced the smell of smoke and looked towards the lake see what the source of it was. And then he saw.

His voice was completely serious when he spoke up.

"Hermione, don't look."

Naturally, she did.

What met her eyes was not a pleasant sight. There were mountains of books piled onto the grass about a hundred feet to her right, near the lake. The books weren't just sitting there - they were burning. With a gasp, she began to head toward the flames, interested. Who in the world would be burning books?

When she neared, she made one observation - these were her books. These were the books that she had brought to Hogwarts and kept in her own small collection in her room. Some of these she had had since she was only a small child. Some of them were gifts from relatives on special occasions. Each one held a different memory. Each was special. And they were burning.

A small wail escaped her lips as she finally realized what was happening. Was this a dream? No, it wasn't. She was ready to cry - really ready to cry. She saw the book that her grandmother had given her when she was three. It was the last book she had given her before she died so she swore she'd keep it forever. But now, it was burning and half of it was already just ashes. All the books burning slowly right in front of her eyes.

The heat of hatred began to rise inside of her.

Her eyes searched the scene frantically and finally landed upon one person. Draco Malfoy. She wanted to glare at him, but she couldn't - she was too close to tears. The last thing she wanted was to let him see her cry. He couldn't see her cry. She would never let him see her cry. A tear was on the verge of falling.

"Beautiful sight, isn't it?" he asked cheerfully, with a hint of arrogance, and then brushed past her and headed into the castle.

How dare he speak to her, she thought. She was ready to race up to him and punch him. Instead she kept quiet. It wasn't until a little while after that she realized there were tears coming out of her eyes. She was completely numb. She had loved her books. Really really really loved her books. Those books had taken her years to save up - she had had hundreds and they were all precious to her. And now they were burning and there was nothing she could do about it but sink into her own misery. They were gone and she'd never be able to get them back and it was all that jerk's fault. She slowly wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her robe, determined not to let him get to her no matter what.

"Don't cry, Hermione."

"I'm not," she replied as she wiped her eyes again.

"Yes you are."

"It's just because of the smoke. It's making me tear. I'm not crying," she said stubbornly with a sniff.

"Hermione, don't be like that."

"Harry! You don't know how much those books meant to me!" She was freely sobbing now and had to wipe her eyes constantly. "Gosh, I'm such a baby! Look at me, I'm crying! I don't cry!"

"If it makes you feel any better, we'll help you get back at him."

She stared at Harry, and then at Ron with her swollen eyes. "You guys would do that for me?"

They nodded together.

"No," she said, shaking her head, "I don't want you to get involved. I'm already in far too deep, I can't let you two get involved."

"What kind of friends would we be if we didn't help you during your time of need?" This surprised her - she didn't think Ron was capable of saying something so thoughtful like that.

Hermione finally nodded and sniffed. "Okay, so you can help me think of ideas of how to get back at him."

"Oh, if only Fred and George were still here!" said Ron, looking disappointed.

As sad as Hermione was, Ron's words brought a smile to her face. "So, come with me back to my room and we'll brainstorm."

"We'll get him back for you Hermione. We'll get him back good."

So forgetting all about Hagrid, they hurried back into the castle and into Hermione's private Head Girl dormitory. Sitting down on the nice plush carpet, they began to talk about the different way to inflict pain on Draco Malfoy.

Suddenly, Hermione snapped out of her gloomy state and she spoke up excitedly. "I've got a wicked idea."

"Tell us!"

Hermione looked around nervously, as if there might be people listening who she wouldn't want listening.

"There's nobody else here," said Ron, glancing around too. "This is your room, isn't it?"

"Well, Draco or one of his people were able to get in apparently..."

"I'm sure nobody's in here right now."

"Alright, fine, I'll tell you." She paused hesitantly.

"So? Tell us."

"It's horrid," she said, making a face.

"You're keeping me in suspense. Spill it already."

"Come with me - I hope I have it."

She hurried to a large trunk that sat in the corner of her room. After unlocking it with a key, she lifted the lid off. Inside there was duffel bag and she reached into the duffel bag with searching hands.

"I was at my cousin's house this summer and she's absolutely the most crazy person in the universe. I don't see how we could possibly be related. Of course that's besides the point..."

"What's the point?"

"When I went home, I accidentally took her duffel bag with me. I think I saw something in there that could help us. I was actually supposed to return the bag to her at King's Cross, but I was running late and I suppose she got tired of waiting for me and left. So I had to bring it to school."

"So what is it?"

"Wait, let me find it." She sifted though the contents of the duffel.

"Oh, will you tell us already!"

Suddenly, her hands found what they were looking for and her lips curled up into an evil smile. Oh, yes, she would make him pay.

"Oh, this is really terrible," she said, shaking her head.

"Show us!"

"I can't, I feel like such a - "

"Spill it!" Ron cried impatiently.

"Really, it's really horrid."

"Tell us already!"

"It's really terrible."

"Oh, c'mon already!"

"Fine."

She bought the object out of the trunk and held it in her hands for them to see. It was a medium-sized rectangular box and they leaned in closer to read what written on it. The trio's faces were lit with wicked glee as they saw the label.

L'Oreal Paris Haircolour: Intense Copper Red

~*~

TBC

~*~

A/N: Yeah, so this is the end of chapter two. I promise that the interesting stuff will come out soon - just not yet. I think that maybe the real plot will be sort of introduced in the next chapter or the one after that. And all of the little details in chapter one and two will come into play later in the story. Every little teenie detail is important. Please Review!!!