Disclaimer: Fine, I own nothing that is Harry Potter. Make me sad…

Thanks to Jennifer for her continued excellent work!

Thanks to the great reviewers! I've left responses as reviews myself.

___

"I am ready for love. Would you please lend me your ear? I promise I won't complain. I just need you to acknowledge I am here."

India Arie, Ready for Love

Dumbledore's source had been lied to.

Aside from causing an immense distraction for the Old Crowd and allowing the Death Eaters to take as many victims as they pleased, this implied a great deal of unpleasantness for his source.

The Death Eaters hadn't struck Hogsmeade. He had been found out.

Avery, like Snape, had decided to change sides. His was more likely inspired by the disgusting, frightening form Voldemort had become than a problem with his conscience. There was something about knowing that a… being… had willingly been thrown into a cauldron with a severed arm, bits of his father's corpse and the blood of a 14 year old boy in order to resurrect himself that made you really question the sanity of your leadership.

Avery was not, however, going to return to Voldemort now, unlike Snape. He was not going to suffer like Snape had and he was not going to die. He hoped for an early retirement.

Unfortunately this was all very unrealistic. Without all the help they could get, the light side would most certainly lose, and a world-dominating, insane Voldemort was a nightmare like he'd never imagined.

He sighed and approached the gargoyle to see what suggestions Dumbledore had to offer.

***

Draco paused, regarding her while she read. She felt his intense gaze, and eventually decided to look up.

"What?"

"Well, not that it's any of my business… But what made you decide to get into… this?"

Hermione sighed. She thought over the speech she had so well rehearsed from every time she had asked herself this question.

"They betrayed me. They hurt me. I found out that I couldn't trust them. And they were the only ones I had ever trusted. The only two people I had ever allowed to get close to me. I don't… I don't exactly make friends easily, if you haven't noticed."

She paused and rubbed her eyes. Draco got the feeling that she would speak again but his impatience wouldn't allow him to wait for very long.

"And?"

She sighed again. "There was always this one constant in my life. There was always one thing that never betrayed me, that never let me down, that always made me happy, solved problems for me and answered questions that no one else could…."

She glanced up at him.

He smiled. "What, the library?" It was a teasing question, but the look in her eyes made him wish he could take it back.

"Basically. Well, learning. Reading. I've always loved it. I've yet to be disappointed. Even when I was little, my parents would always be working and I would read. It was just me and my books most of the time… or school…" She took a deep breath. "After Ron and Harry…. Well… then I just buried myself in my studies. They still didn't let me down. Of course... I learned all sorts of hexes for revenge…" She stopped and gave Draco a little wicked smile before she shook her head and continued. "But I'm not really a spiteful person. It was just interesting. Those hours spent reading and researching in the library became my only comfort. It was like a drug for me."

Draco nodded and turned his attention back to the book in front of him. A few moments passed before he heard her, in an almost inaudible whisper;

"There is a problem with a learning obsession, though."

He glanced at her in curiosity. She didn't continue. He cleared his throat. She looked up again, surprised.

"You run out of things to learn." It sounded as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

Draco grinned. Only Hermione Granger. Only Hermione Granger could get addicted to the library. And only Hermione Granger could run out of things to learn.

***

Harry sighed, pushing a rather abused piece of chicken around his plate with a fork.

He just didn't understand. He couldn't do anything right anymore. He had never been yelled at by so many professors in his life as he had in the past week. He had even been to see Dumbledore.

Although he didn't remember what about.

Obviously, he had done something wrong.

He took a deep breath and put down his fork, pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. He wanted to cry terribly. But you don't cry when a) you're a 6th year, b) you're a boy and c) you're Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived.

Ron nudged his shoulder. He looked up and wondered briefly where Hermione was. He hadn't seen her in quite some time.

"You alright, Harry?"

Harry nodded absently and turned his focus back to his chicken.

***

Ron frowned.

Obviously Harry wasn't doing much better. He grimaced. He wasn't doing so well himself. He shifted his position in an attempt to get more comfortable and winced at the ache in his back. Hell, his whole body ached. He couldn't remember how long, in between strolls patrolling the deserted streets, he had squatted near Sirius' old cave in Hogsmeade.

Not that it had been a terribly bad thing to not have to face Death Eaters, but somehow the fact that they hadn't shown up was even worse.

It certainly meant that they would have to try new tactics. There was no one else on the inside – no one else that could provide them with Voldemort's next plans.

He almost wished he could join.

Almost.

As little as Ron valued his own life at the moment, he wasn't yet to the point where he was willing to sign it over to Voldemort. Even if it would be to help Dumbledore.

He sighed and glanced over at Harry. Besides, who would be there to take care of him? Hermione didn't seem to care.

Maybe that was what was bothering Harry. Before he could reconsider his assessment of the situation, Ron began formulating a plan to reunite the two.

Ah, hell. The three.

***

She had made it through almost the entire midday session without so much as flinching. Almost.

Of course, this was the day they would work on love potions.

"Alright. Now. Do you know which ones are actually legal?"

Hermione nibbled on her quill. "Most of the infatuation potions and the lust potions. Very few of them are long lasting, and they're mostly used by married couples. You can buy several of the weaker versions at local Apothecary stores."

Draco nodded. "What are the exceptions?"

"Well, there are a few that have… stronger and longer lasting effects. These take over the mind so that… so that all the subject is capable of thinking about is the object of his affection. These are borderline obsession potions. The others – "

"And what's the difference?"

Dammit. He couldn't just leave it alone. He was going to make her face what he was doing to Harry. He wasn't going to just let her push it to the back of her mind. She had to know and she had to accept it. She took a deep breath.

"The obsession potions cause the subject to become trapped… He loses the will to do anything but think about the object of his desire. Some of them cause the subject to lose his powers with every moment he spends with the object of his desire. The obsession potions are permanent, and very few outside of the Ministry can undo the damage."

Draco looked at her. Hermione rubbed her eyes and set down her quill. "The subject will now only be able to concentrate on Quidditch. These thoughts will be his life, yet he will be unable to perform even the simplest tasks required of his Seeker position."

Draco nodded. She had to respect him – he didn't smile. He maintained a composed façade the entire time. She doubted that anyone else could remain so stoic about revenge on his childhood nemesis.

"So Hermione. Tell me… Have you ever concocted one of these love potions?"

Hermione frowned and shook her head. "Of course not."

Draco did smile then. "And why not? I hear it's an added bonus in relationships. Some of the weaker ones really just serve to intensify feelings that are already there."

His eyes were boring a hole through her head. She knew exactly what he was asking her, and she wasn't going to play his game.

"Draco, dear. Tell me… Have you ever used any of these potions to 'enhance' anything? Maybe on another naïve, unsuspecting Gryffindor?"

He shook his head in amazement. "Touché, Hermione. Touché. But really, I think you're trying to ask me something else. Why don't you just come out and say it?"

Hermione sighed. "Fine. Was there anything between the two of you?"

Draco smiled. "No. Besides, she had bigger fish to fry." At this, he raised his eyebrows.

Once again, her curiosity got the better of her.

"Who was it?"

He smiled, closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. He had wanted her to ask all along, that greasy bastard. "I believe you know a girl by the name of Ginny Weasley?"

Hermione's mouth definitely dropped open. "Ginny? But she- wait, she… how did she…who was-?"

Draco laughed. "I'm not one to go telling other people's secrets, Hermione. Besides, it really has no relevance to today's lesson, now does it?"

She shook her head and picked up her quill. Silence ensued for a few minutes, with Hermione awaiting Draco's next questions that never came. Finally, she gave in.

"Well?"

He smiled and leaned across the table until she could feel his breath on her cheek. He began to whisper in her ear and every nerve ending on her body jumped to attention.

"I think perhaps we've done enough of this today."

Hermione gasped, slightly, and tilted her head so that she could meet his eyes. For the past five years, those steel blue eyes had always been hard, angry and unrelenting. Now they had changed. Now she saw excitement and hunger.

Hermione smiled and kissed him, to his immense pleasure, before she abruptly stood from the table and began gathering her things. He was left there, draped across the table, mouth open and eyes wide with shock.

She smiled again. "Break's over. See you tonight."

She turned and walked briskly from the library as Draco Malfoy slid off of the table, onto the floor and lay, sprawled on his back in a mixture of exhaustion, disappointment and excitement.

This girl was more amazing than he had ever given her credit for.

***

That night was no different than most. The nightmares were still there. Still terrible.

First, as always, there was his mother, holding a red bundle that he assumed to be him. As the image became clearer and more focused, the bundle turned out to be the disgusting snake-like creature that Voldemort had embodied before taking his human form.

He looked up at his mother and found instead the beady eyes of Peter Pettigrew, and he noticed for the first time that the bundle was not, in fact, wrapped in red cloth – it was only soaked with the blood from Peter's mangled, bleeding stump.

Then he found himself in the graveyard again, with Cedric's body next to him, but this time he remembered things differently – this time, it had been Harry who had spoken the words that killed Cedric. This time, the Death Eaters were bowing to Harry and kissing his robes, and Harry realized with disgust that he liked it.

Then he was back at Hogwarts, only it wasn't there anymore. There was a great deal of rubble from the aged, weathered building, and there were students and professors… but only the bodies of them.

Wanting desperately to find Ron and Hermione (surely, they had found a way to defeat whoever had created this monstrosity, after all, they always managed to save the day), Harry started towards the castle, only to trip over the body of Albus Dumbledore.

Not wanting to believe what he saw, and desperate to find the real Headmaster and tell him what he had seen, he ran into the remains of the Entrance Hall only to find what remained of both Ron and Hermione.

This was too much for Harry, who collapsed on the floor in tears. Something shiny caught his eye and he glanced up to find himself eye to eye with Tom Riddle.

It was several minutes before he realized that he was looking into a mirror. In spite of his instinct's screams against it, he raised his wand.


"Prior Incantatum"

In shadowy depiction, he watched the death of Albus Dumbledore.

He looked down at his hands, dropping his wand, and looked up again at his surroundings. He had done all of this.

He sat up in bed, tears soaking his face and sweat drenching his body. They usually didn't last that long. He usually woke up once he returned to Hogwarts, or at least after he found Dumbledore.

He usually didn't have to know that he had killed them all.

***

Hermione hadn't been able to eat all day. She couldn't remember having ever been this nervous before. Today, they would go to Hogsmeade. Today, she would find out how powerful she was.

They were going to practice on people.

When Draco suggested some 'practical lessons', Hermione had assumed they would work some fun, harmless spells on an unsuspecting Hufflepuff under the breakfast table. After Malfoy explained about Hogwarts' dark magic sensors, she realized that this would be impossible. So they were going to Hogsmeade and they were going to practice on people.

She had been running all of the less dangerous curses through her mind, hoping that she would not screw up or hurt anyone. She sighed, pacing the ground outside of the gates to Hogwarts, when a familiar blond head rounded the corner. She smiled at the sight of him.

He grinned as he leaned in to whisper, "You're going to use Imperius."

Hermione stumbled away from him, tripping on her own feet. "Nno.. Draco… I never said that… I th-thought… we wouldn't really hurt them…"

Draco's grin disappeared. "You aren't going to hurt anyone. Besides, I doubt you'll get it right today anyway. It usually takes much longer to build up the kind of power needed to perform the Unforgivables."

Hermione looked at her feet. She was also afraid of going to Azkaban. Some silly afternoon with Draco was certainly not worth Azkaban. "Are…are you sure it won't work?"

Draco regarded her for a moment. "Well, no. If there was no chance that it would work, there wouldn't be much of a point in attempting it, now would there? I just want to see how powerful you are, Hermione. And how much longer we really need to continue with your lessons."

Hermione looked up at him. It hadn't occurred to her that there would ever really be a stopping point in the lessons. It angered her that he would give them up that easily, but even worse was the fact that he didn't think she was powerful enough to perform Imperius.

"How will you know that it's working anyway?"

"You're going to use it on me."

After a few silent minutes, Hermione took a deep breath, nodded, and followed Draco through the town towards the secluded area he had selected earlier.

***

Draco laughed. She looked so serious about the whole ordeal. He just wanted to hear her tiny, hesitant voice in the back of his mind, deny her requests and get the whole thing over with.

"Draco, get down on your hands and knees, kiss my toes and tell me how incredibly powerful I am."

Draco laughed at the ludicrous request and was about to gently take her wand and explain how much power she would feel surge through her hand when she actually performed the spell correctly. Just as he reached for her wand, however, he found himself suddenly down on the rocks and mud. Before he could prevent himself, his lips made contact with the soiled toe of her left Mary Jane. He spit furiously but soon his own mouth turned against him.

"Hermione, you are a goddess. You are the most powerful witch in all of existence. You will rule the world some day and I only hope that you will allow me to be your ever-faithful servant."

He rose from the ground as quickly as he could and found that his body was obeying his orders again. The voice had left him and he looked up to see a very pleased Hermione.

"You bitch," he spat through sudden irrational laughter. "You really are going to rule the world some day, you know that?"

She smiled, nodded, and waited, almost fearfully, to see what would happen next. He hadn't said that they wouldn't practice on other people. She half expected him to point out some innocent shopper and instruct her to use Imperius on him.

Instead, he brushed his hair from his face, took her hand and strolled back towards Hogwarts, Hermione in tow.

She didn't mind his assumption, a fact that almost shocked her. For the first time in her life, she didn't mind letting some one else take control.

***

Ron watched Hermione glide unknowingly by his seat in the common room late that night. He almost reached out a hand to stop her, almost voiced his hello along with his concerns… But for the time being, he restrained himself. He wasn't quite ready to approach her, and she didn't seem like she was in the type of mood to care about anything he had to say.

He had watched her many nights now. Before the night in Hogsmeade, he had taken to sitting in the common room after he returned from his nightly battles. Sometimes it was to accompany Harry, but sometimes, he just sat alone. He could almost understand why Harry had made it his late-night solace. And he would notice her, of course, every time she snuck in, hours after curfew. Always around the same time, she traipsed back in through the portrait hole and up to her dormitory. Some nights she would be humming. Sometimes she looked almost tearful. But she never noticed her surroundings, never saw her red-haired companion.

He knew for damn sure that she wasn't spending these nights in the library.

He supposed it had been naïve of him, to assume that Viktor and Harry (and in earlier years he had liked to think himself) would be the only love interests in Hermione's life. Of course there were other guys out there. Of course she wouldn't commit herself to Hogwarts, A History forever.

Ron almost felt like a father figure, in times like these. Like he was watching his little girl grow up. It felt odd, to consider Hermione younger than himself. She was, technically, but she had always been so much more mature. She was the one who dated a 17-year-old Quidditch star when she was a fourth year. She had always been the voice of reason in the trio. She seemed older. But not anymore.

He supposed that it was the life he was leading. It certainly hardened a man. And if it didn't make you grow up fast, then nothing did. It was difficult, sometimes, to discern whether or not he began fighting because he matured or matured because he began fighting.

He thought back to how it had all begun. He didn't like to; it wasn't one of his more treasured memories. But he would never forget that day. It was the week before the end of the term, and Dumbledore had called him to his office. He had quietly informed Ron of Lupin's death.

Remus Lupin had become rather close to the boys in the years following his employment at Hogwarts. For Harry, he was like extended family. To Ron, this was a matter of extreme importance.

Ron, growing up, had always taken for granted having a family – it was hard not to, with six other siblings and happily married parents. They were always around. There was no such thing as privacy in the Weasley household. Because of this, he was sometimes envious of others who didn't have to live in such a crowded situation. Regardless of his occasional yearnings for privacy, however, he would have never made it without them. He missed them all, even Percy, when he was at Hogwarts. He couldn't imagine growing up alone, like Harry had.

It was because of this that Ron had always wanted to share his family with his best friend. And certainly, he welcomed any existing loving family of Harry's with open arms. Falling into this category were Sirius and Lupin.

Not family per se, but family in Harry's eyes. Dumbledore's news sent Ron into a sort of panic. Who would tell Harry? How would he respond? How would he deal with losing another piece of his family? And finally… Who would be next?

That day he didn't cry. He didn't allow his panic to surface. He simply turned to the Headmaster, in a very collected manner, and announced his plans to fight the Death Eaters, regardless of any sanctions given to him. He wouldn't let this continue. He wouldn't sit idly by while people died. He wouldn't let Harry lose any one else.

When Dumbledore had pointed out that Harry could quite possibly lose him, if he began fighting, Ron simply shook his head.

"I can't continue to not act."

Dumbledore seemed to understand. Ron had a hunch that the old man had known his plans all along. It fit in nicely with his theory that the Headmaster could tell the future.

Dumbledore was really quite a bit like God.

At least, in the eyes of his students.

Dumbledore had told him that he was old enough to make his own decisions - that once he left for the summer, his life was up to him and not his Headmaster. He had agreed to a policy of ignoring Ron's summer activities, but warned that once he resided on Hogwarts' grounds again, he would inform his parents of his actions.

Ron didn't remember much of this. He nodded continuously, agreeing with everything Dumbledore said and tuned in again only for his instructions.

"Contact Sirius. He'll tell you everything you need to know."

He had bid the Headmaster a farewell and he had left his office a new man.

That was the day he decided to apologize to Hermione.

He sighed and glanced up at the steps she had so recently traveled. What on earth was she doing every night?

And who was she doing it with?

***

As Draco lay in bed that night, an odd sensation overcame him. He thought about Hermione, about the power she had displayed that day and the power she had always carried with her. He couldn't believe that he had never appreciated it before.

She had always embodied the strength and courage that Gryffindors were supposed to represent. He had always known that, and, much to his chagrin, he was proud of her for that.

And to feel her performing the Imperius Curse on him, well that was simply more of a turn-on than anything else she could have done. He didn't even think that her stripping naked and dancing on his lap would have been more erotic.

At this image and the rising heat in his crotch accompanying the image, he grinned. Well, maybe that was going a little too far.

So she was brilliant. And she was brave. And powerful… Powerful enough to harness a spell in one try that had taken him months of practice to master. He wondered, momentarily, if she had practiced it in secret.

But on who?

He rubbed his eyes. It didn't matter. What mattered to him at the moment was Hermione and the fact that he couldn't seem to get her off of his mind. He wanted her.

He already had her.

Physically.

And it was at this moment, when Draco did not experience extreme satisfaction from that fact, that he realized something else.

He wanted more from Hermione Granger.