Disclaimer: I'm too legit to claim Harry Potter. I'm merely a fanfiction writer. I'm somewhere near the bottom of the writing foodchain.
A/N: Thanks to my beta Jennifer!
Thanks to the reviewers; Serpena, Kou Shun'u (I really must write you a response in the reviews), Blanche Dubois, FEAngel258, NotSoBlondie, and Rose Aquafire. I love you all. Thank you.
Enjoy!
"What other dungeon is so dark as one's own heart! What jailer so inexorable as one's self!"

- Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804 - 1864)

***

Despite the headache now running rampant, Ron smiled. He could tell from Snape and Avery's chagrin that he was doing very well indeed. Snape snorted.

"Yes, Ron, you've done well with the interrogations but don't get too cocky. You've yet to master your thoughts."

Ron swallowed and furrowed his brow, attempting to make his mind blank. He hadn't counted on Snape reading his mind. Snape sighed and began pacing the classroom. Ron wondered if he'd heard all of the terrible things he'd thought about his Potions Master in the past.

"No, Weasley. You don't want a blank mind, even if you can achieve one. That's extremely suspicious. What you must do is believe what you say - I want you to love Voldemort, hate filthy half-breeds and Mudbloods, and take Dumbledore as nothing more than a Muggle-loving buffoon."

Ron seethed. Of course that's what Snape wanted.

Frustrated, Snape threw up his hands. "Fine. I'll just leave you in Avery's loving care, then, shall I?"

He turned quickly on his heel, and with a swish of his cloak, left the office. Avery grinned and approached Ron, taking a seat across from him.

"Oh, how fun. Severus can be such a spoilsport, you know?"

***

It had taken every ounce of Draco's self-restraint to refrain from confronting Hermione until that night. And when night fell, Draco received an owl.

She was tired. She needed sleep. She couldn't meet him tonight. She'd tell him everything later.

But this wasn't good enough for Draco. His hunger for her hadn't been fully satiated lately. Since their night in the Restricted Section, he had known what he wanted and what they were capable of, and it was painful to be denied that.

It wasn't just a physical thing. The physical aspect was simply the acknowledgement of how close they were, of the passion they shared, of the love…

Draco cursed. He couldn't continue with thoughts like these. What about his father? He couldn't love her. It would make him weak to his father's demands. He wouldn't be able to detach himself from anything that concerned her. He would be too emotionally involved to think clearly. And he couldn't very well save her life like that. His love for her was going to be his weakness.

He sighed. But that was his father's perception of love. Was his any different?

Yes. Yes, Draco was throwing it all away - reputation, lifelong beliefs, his family - to be with her. He would sacrifice it all for her; his love was that strong.

He wasn't sure just yet how he would do this… If not his father, surely Voldemort would send others after her… But he'd die trying, that's for damned sure.

He sighed again and glanced at his clock. If only he could see her, be with her… just tonight. Tonight he needed her.

Realizing that he was considering sneaking into the Gryffindor dorms to visit his likely unconscious girlfriend, he laughed and gruffly swiped his face with his hand. No. Tonight he would miss her, but tomorrow would make up for it. There was no need to devise ways to see her now. They would have plenty of opportunities. There was no rush.

He'd let her sleep tonight. Alone.

***

Hermione yawned and began to undress. She was strongly reminded of her third year at Hogwarts. Every night she'd dropped from sheer exhaustion. Some nights she toyed with the idea of using the time turner for more sleep. Probably luckily for her, her common sense won out each time. She'd never used the time-turner for anything but her studies… Except…

Well, of course, there was the time she and Harry saved Buckbeak and Sirius. She smiled, remembering them soaring through the air on Buckbeak, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. At the time, it had been the most enjoyable moment of her existence. At the time, she'd been in love with Harry.

And he'd certainly played the gallant hero. He'd saved more than the lives of Sirius and the hippogriff, done more than protect her from Lupin and the dementors…

He'd saved the truth as well. In the face of Snape's lies and Fudge's assumptions, he'd held onto the truth. And she had loved him all the more for it.

She sighed. What had happened to them? Obviously there had been tender feelings after the breakup, but now? Now Harry hardly noticed anything but Quidditch. Now he had no ambition, no thoughts… And she knew exactly who was to blame… And she was doing nothing. What had happened to her? She had always been so compassionate, had always loved him… How did she reach a point where she didn't care?

She yawned. She couldn't think about this now. She'd talk to Harry tomorrow. Surely talking to him would help her figure out where she stood.

Yawning more and more insistently, Hermione climbed into her bed, thoughts of Harry nagging her as she drifted into a fitful sleep.

***

Ron swallowed hard as he stumbled from Snape's office. Avery was no man. Avery was a demon. He had never experienced the magnitude of pain he'd been put through in the last half an hour.

Irritatingly enough, Avery had helped him. He felt quite a bit better at controlling his thoughts, at lying…

He felt quite a bit better at embodying everything he stood against. After he had made it a good distance from the office, he slumped against the wall, heaving painfully. His robes were sticking to his very sweaty, very much aching body.

As he slid to the floor, he clasped his hands to his face and allowed the scene to replay in his mind. Snape had left, Avery had smiled. Avery had gotten very close to him. Avery was breathing down his neck. Avery was staring him straight in the eyes. Avery waved his wand and muttered something. Ron saw stars. Ron saw white. Ron's head felt as though a thousand needles were attempting to escape his brain, as though they were scraping at his skull…. He was sure that he would burst from the pain that surged through him. The last thing he remembered, he was clawing at the hands of the chair, and Avery was shouting something to him.

What was he shouting? Oh, right.

"You can stop it. You are the only one who can stop it. If you can't take control, the pain will only intensify. You must control it. You must capture it and push it from your mind. You must block the pain, or you will die."

It was possible that Avery never so much as opened his mouth. It was possible that it were his thoughts that were shouting. Regardless, Ron heard them. He heard them and he fought and fought. His brain screamed for mercy, but Ron kept on, furiously thinking, attempting to block Avery. And then he was engulfed in cool, painless dark.

And then he woke up. Avery was standing across the room, helping himself to Snape's supply of Firewhiskey. He held up a shot glass to Ron, a questioning look in his eye. Ron nodded furiously, and didn't so much as look at the shot before tossing it down his throat.

The burning felt almost pleasant. He didn't know if he'd ever feel pain again, after experiencing that. He glared at Avery, who only smiled in response.

"Well done, mate."

Ron furrowed his brow. "Eh… Excuse me?"

Avery smirked at him and moved around Snape's desk, glass in hand. He pulled himself up on the desk and swung his legs about, very relaxed.

"You just saved your life. Well done."

Ron waited for him to explain, for him to detail to Ron exactly why he had just put him through such a great deal of pain. Instead of responding, Avery knocked back his glass, downing the last of his Firewhiskey.

"Well? Why? What did you just do? What was the point of that? Were you trying to kill me? Because I think I'd have rather had you do that."

Avery chuckled and set down his empty glass. "Oh, Ron… It is Ron, isn't it?"

Ron nodded and then frowned. "What's your first name?"

Avery rolled his eyes. "Let's not get caught up in formalities now. Would you like to know what just happened or do you want to hear my life story? Somehow I don't think the latter pertains to you very much."

Ron rolled his eyes, mockingly. "Go on then."

Avery cleared his throat and took a seat in the chair closest to Ron. "Well then, Mr. Weasley. I just trespassed on your mind. I possess the ability, as does Snape. The two of us, along with Dumbledore, Voldemort, and a handful of Aurors and Death Eaters are the only witches and wizards capable of such intrusions. Some have natural ability and others ambitious enough studied until they were able. Some are weak, others are strong. The point is, we can read your thoughts, violate your thoughts and give you thoughts. While we're at it, some of us enjoy playing with the other areas of the brain. Namely, your nerve centers. It's quite possible to - and it has been done - kill a person by exploiting their nerve control. Essentially you can kill them with pain. I suppose it could be done with pleasure too, but that's really not the issue."

Avery sighed and scratched his eyebrow. "Ron, I was killing you with the pain. You would have died had I continued. I was going to push you to your breaking point and stop. I wanted you to know what exactly you're getting yourself into. I wanted you to know what Voldemort can do to you. I wanted you to be prepared. What I wasn't counting on was you forcing me out of your head. You pushed me out so far that you managed to hit a nerve in me. The point is, Ron, you're capable of this. Severus and I knew that you must possess some extraordinary talent if Dumbledore was going to allow you to spy, but I had no idea…"

He yawned and waved a hand. "Synopsis; very good. Nicely done."

Ron gaped at him.

"Can I have another shot?"

Avery cracked a smile and sauntered back to the Firewhiskey decanter.

Ron rubbed his eyes and stood, very shakily. He wondered if things could possibly get any worse.

***

Draco cornered Hermione in the library at lunch the next day.

"Oh. Hi." She smiled weakly at him as he pressed her against the wall. His eyes flashed.

"The strangest thing happened to me yesterday, and I was wondering if you might be able to shed some light on the matter."

Hermione swallowed.

"You see, I was sitting at the Slytherin table, mulling over a particularly unpleasant owl from my father, when I was practically blinded by a sudden flash of happiness. And when I found the person responsible for causing such an intense wave of glee, I discovered that the caster of the Cheering Charm held no wand."

He paused and when she didn't respond, he closed the space between the two, flattening her against the wall. She could feel his growing arousal pressing into her leg and she closed her eyes.

"Since when can you perform wandless magic, Hermione?"

His whisper made her entire body tremble. She was sure that if they held this pose any longer she would collapse from the want and anticipation. Apparently, Draco felt the same. He pulled away from the wall and gracefully hopped up to a seat on a nearby table, one eyebrow quirked curiously at her.

She wanted nothing more than to slide down the wall to the floor. She wasn't even sure how much longer she could stand. She took a deep breath to strengthen her resolve and stepped away from the wall. If this was a control game, she'd win.

"Well, Draco…"

She tossed her hair behind her shoulder as she approached him, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

"I practiced. A lot. Until I could. I practiced until I could light my fingertips and lift desks by pointing a finger."

She was attempting a husky voice, and although she felt ridiculously stupid in doing so, she noted that Draco was responding. When she finally reached him, she slid a hand up his thigh and leaned in, allowing her hair to brush his face as she whispered in his ear.

"And I wanted to make you happy of course."

She had slid her hand up to the highest part of his inner thigh at this and was most surprised when Draco's hand clamped down onto hers, jerking it brusquely away.


She pulled away to find that his eyes were closed and he was taking deep breaths. Finally, he opened his eyes and slid from the table, loosening his grip slightly on her hand.

"So, let me get this straight…"

His tone was surprisingly harsh. Hermione felt herself flush and wondered if she'd pushed him too hard.

"Because you managed, after repeated failed attempts, to perform two simple first year spells, you thought it would be a good idea to try an exceedingly difficult third year charm on me? One that could potentially harm me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and toyed with his hair using her free hand.

"Oh, please Draco. You could stand to be a little manic for a few hours."

His grip on her hand tightened and with his other hand, he seized the wrist of her free hand. His eyes were as cold as she'd ever seen them.

"This is serious. You could have done much more damage than that, playing with my mind. You know that."

She sighed and jerked her right hand free to rub her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I just… I wasn't thinking straight. I was so proud and sure… and you looked so down and I just - "

Hermione frowned and dropped her hand, shooting him a curious stare.

"What was in that letter that upset you so much?"

***

Ron steeled himself for what he would be facing when he entered Snape's office. He wasn't expecting to find the headmaster having tea and gingerbread cookies with Avery and Snape.

"Ah, Ron. The man of the hour. Come, sit, have a cookie."

Dumbledore summoned one of his trademark comfy chintz chairs and smiled, his eyes twinkling. "I daresay you're doing quite well, Ron. Quite well indeed. I admit, although I knew you possessed some talent, I had no idea you'd do quite so well on your first attempt."

Ron was pleased to see Snape scowling into his teacup. Ron had a funny feeling that Avery wasn't listening, as he seemed rather preoccupied with a far corner of the ceiling.

"Thank… Thank you sir."

Ron stuffed the cookie into his mouth.

"Better eat it as fast as you can."


He was most shocked to find Avery squatting before him in the next instant, watching him intently. Ron wanted to protest, wanted to tell him that this wasn't fair, that he wasn't ready. But when Avery waved his wand, the pain came and Ron nearly choked on the gingerbread. Instead, he focused all of his energy on the pain. This time, however, he wanted a little payback. This time, Ron focused on probing Avery's mind.

Once successful, Ron did choke. Avery waved his wand angrily, breaking the link, and strode over to the Firewhiskey. Snape and Dumbledore exchanged a grim look.

Once Ron had successfully swallowed, he pointed a finger at Avery accusingly. "Ronald."

Avery turned, glass already in hand, and grinned at Ron. "Fine name, isn't it?"

Ron nodded, numbly. "I thought you were mad."

Avery shrugged his shoulders and returned to his old favorite perch on Snape's desk. Ron noted Snape's grimace of distaste, and could have sworn he overheard his Potions Master mutter something about Avery being quite mad.

"Well, I must admit, I hadn't counted on you returning the favor just yet. Yesterday was purely accidental and didn't cause much more than a sting in my right pinky. Today, however… Today my dear boy, I daresay you had purpose."

Avery looked much more proud than angry. Ron wasn't sure that this was entirely healthy. He looked to Snape and Dumbledore for confirmation. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and Snape was still regarding Avery with distaste.

Ron cleared his throat. "Right, then. Are we done here?"

Dumbledore's face took on a sterner look and he turned his attention to Ron. "Initiations are almost upon us, Ron."

Ron nodded. "More practice, then? With Avery?" He was beginning to develop a twisted sort of fondness for the nutty older man.

"No, Ron. I think it's time you practiced with Severus." Watching Ron's face fall, the headmaster continued. "You're doing very well, Ron. I think you might just be ready. Wizards less prepared than you have spied on the Dark Side."

"And suffered all the more for it," Snape added coldly, walking briskly around the chairs to stand in front of Ron's. In a rather vindictive fashion, he pulled out his wand and with a flick of his wrist, sent his desk flying into the far wall, causing it to lose Avery neatly on its journey. He smiled and turned his attention back towards Ron. "This will hurt. Much more than any games Avery has played with you. You will fight it. And while you are fighting it and lying in your thoughts, I will be asking you questions. Verbally and mentally, you must be prepared."

Ron nodded and took a deep breath. Snape waved his wand, muttered a few words, and Ron felt the doors of his thoughts fly open. He began at once.

I hate that stupid, filthy bastard Potter.

"Ronald Weasley, to which side are you loyal in this fight?"

"Why, the side of the Dark Lord, of course."

Why would I side with filthy half-breeds and Muggle lovers? I'm a Pureblood.

"And what about your family's loyalties, Weasley?"

My family has never known what's good for it. If they did, we wouldn't have to live in such a shack and wear second-hand clothes.

"My family's loyalties are no concern of mine, my Lord."

"And what of your friends?"

What friends?

Ron was most surprised that this thought came so naturally, without a prompter from his creativity.

"I've found that I have no true friends, my Lord. All have betrayed me. None are worthy."

"All, Weasley? Even Potter?"

Everything is always about Potter.

"Potter? Potter is a waste of my time. He's incorrigible. These ideas he has… "

Ron shook his head.

"No, there is no lingering loyalty to Potter, my Lord."

Snape's smile twisted into a smirk.


"And what of the Mudblood girl? What of Granger?"

Hermione is forever lost to me. She might as well be dead.

Once again, Ron was surprised at the truth in his lies.

"Sir, Granger is a no-good Mudblood who spends her free time trying to gain freedom for the world's house-elves. I'd hardly say she's good company."

Ron swallowed. Snape's eyebrow twitched.

"Ah, but I understand that Granger has been working on some extra-credit assignments as of late. Do you know anything about her newfound interest in the Dark Arts, Weasley?"

Well, yes, however…

"Sir, I'm willing to bet it is an entirely academic interest."

Snape scowled. Ron felt the white lingering on the horizon. No. Things weren't going to end this way. Snape was not going to pump him for information and then punish him with pain. He pushed the pain, powered by hatred, pushed it until he knew he had found Snape's nerve control…

"Finite Incanatatum!"

Dumbledore had leapt to his feet, and both Snape and Ron fell back, breathing heavily. Snape cursed and stood, shakily leaning on his chair back. He stumbled towards the Firewhiskey, where Avery was happily pouring himself another glass, seemingly unfazed by his fall from Snape's desk.

"Do you understand, Ron, what will happen if you try to reciprocate with Voldemort?"

Ron nodded but Dumbledore continued, now pacing the office.

"First of all, if you let on, for just an instant, that you possess these abilities, he'll know that you are hiding something. Second of all, and I want you to remember this, Ron - "

Dumbledore had stopped next to his chair and was kneeling very close to Ron. His eyes reflected a mixture of concern, grief and anger. For a moment, Ron thought it was directed at him.

"You are not being sent to battle Voldemort. You are nothing but a researcher. You are there to gather information. The minute you butt heads with Voldemort, you die. And it will be the most painful - "

Dumbledore broke off and stood. Ron now understood that the anger was, in fact, directed at Voldemort. The headmaster took a deep breath and summoned the now greatly depleted bottle of Firewhiskey, much to the dismay of Snape and Avery.

"I think, perhaps that is enough."

He turned back to Ron. "Ron, you are very gifted. Do not let it bring about your downfall. You have only a few days left to practice. If you have any concerns whatsoever, please do not hesitate to stop by my office."

A moment later, Dumbledore and the Firewhiskey were gone. A general consensus of displeasure was reached in a collective sigh from the three remaining men.

***

Draco sighed and brought down his quill again, his hand determined to write. Once again, he brought his arm up and stared down at the parchment.

Lucius, Dearest Father, Dear Father,

I

Nope. Still the same. The letters hadn't formed for him. What was he going to tell him? 'Yes, I'd be glad to help you kill my girlfriend. I'll get right on it.' He scowled. But he couldn't exactly tell him the truth, now could he? He could just see it now. 'Hey, Dad, I'm in love with that girl you want to kill. How about we leave her alive? Don't worry about the Dark Lord. I'm sure he won't notice. He kills people all the time. I'm sure one can slip through the cracks.'

He snorted. That was just ludicrous. If only Hermione -

No. He wasn't going to get her involved. He had already decided that. He decided that when he didn't tell her about Lucius' plans. He decided that when he lied to her. He shivered. Lying to Hermione felt so… dirty somehow. Like he didn't deserve her.

He brought his head down onto the table with a resounding crack. He was not going to think like this. He was not going to become some mushy, redeemed little Gryffindor ass-kisser. He wasn't going to be in love.

He groaned and clawed at his face. Easier said than done, Draco. Easier said than done.

***

The rain just wouldn't stop. Harry gazed pessimistically at the dismal skies. He wondered if he had seasonal depression.

Or maybe it was just the fact that he couldn't play Quidditch in this weather.

With a heavy sigh, he shuffled down the steps into the Gryffindor common room. What a boring Saturday afternoon. He wondered vaguely where Ron was.

"Harry."

He looked up, surprised at hearing his name. He was even more shocked at the speaker.

"Hermione?" He paused, midway in his hurried step towards her. Now his mind turned to the months of tension, the harsh words, and the even harsher silences they had shared. This wasn't his Hermione anymore. He idly wondered if she had ever really been his Hermione. For some reason, this triggered thoughts of Draco. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out the link there.

***

She knew, before she had even spoken, what his reaction would be. Good old predictable Harry. At least he hadn't changed. Then again, had she?

I'm here, aren't I?

She cleared her throat. "Harry..."

She couldn't go on. She didn't even know what she wanted to say. No, that's not true. She knew what she wanted to say. But she couldn't lie to him. And she wanted to. She wanted to tell him she was sorry. That everything would go back to normal. That nothing was or had been wrong. That she had just been stressed, or bored, or a combination.

But she wouldn't lie to him. She sighed.

But bless his heart, he seemed to understand. She knew he couldn't - that if he did, he would never speak to her again. But when he rushed forward and hugged her, she couldn't believe that she was being anything but truthful to him.

"It's okay, Hermione. I'm sorry."

That was what broke her. How could he apologize for what she'd done? This boy, who had been sacrificing his whole life now for others, was asking to be forgiven for being betrayed. She was there, twisting the knife, and he wouldn't even say 'Et tu, Hermione?'

With a heavy, shaky sigh, she pulled away from him.

"Harry, I can't even begin to explain things to you right now. But I promise that I will, eventually. I owe you at least that much."

With a last glance at her former best friend, she swept through the portrait hole and headed for the library. She had a lot of thinking to do, and she would have to know exactly where she stood by tonight.

Draco, unlike Harry, wouldn't accept indecision, betrayal or regret. This she knew.