Chapter 2

"Is everything ready?"

"Yeah. I think that's about everything."

"Good thing I remembered what day it was."

"Absolutely. For five years we kept on forgetting. Not this year, though."

"Good thing I reminded you, eh."

"Like I needed you to remind me. I know perfectly well about today's occasion."

The boy with green eyes smirked. "Of course you didn't need reminding. You, of all people, should know about this."

His friend, the one often called "carrot-head", glanced at him suspiciously. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. He knew that Ron liked Hermione more than just as a best friend, but he was not about to reveal that knowledge… yet. He heard footsteps coming from the girls' dormitory. He motioned for Ron to shut up and follow him.

Hermione stepped out of the girls' staircase, rubbing her eyes and stifling a yawn. As she walked, she almost tripped over something big on the floor. Looking downward, she saw that it was a big package. She could see her name scribbled on it, the letters changing from red to gold and red again.

Turning her back to the boys' hiding place, she kneeled on the floor and took the package in her hands. It was heavy. The weight heightened her curiosity and she badly wanted to open it and learn what was inside and where it came from, but she didn't want to do so until she was sure that it was not a prank of some sort.

"Happy Birthday, Hermione," a soft voice whispered into her ear.

"Happy Birthday, Herm," echoed another voice.

Hermione turned and saw her two best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, standing right behind her. Tears welled in her eyes at the sweetness of their acts. "You remembered," she said, rising from her position on the floor. "Thank you." She went to Ron and hugged him, giving him a peck on the cheek at the same time. She did the same to Harry, who was busy trying to keep a straight face.

Ron was red in the face and ears that it was difficult to tell where his hair started. He turned to face them in time to see Harry snigger, "What?" he asked, growing even more red that it was now almost impossible to distinguish which was his hair and which was his face.

Harry collapsed into a chair, laughing his heart out. He managed to calm himself down a little to see his friends' faces, but almost immediately began laughing again. He couldn't stop laughing for the expression on Ron's face was so funny. It seemed that he didn't know whether to laugh along or to levitate Harry to the infirmary.

"I-I'm sorry!" Harry said with a little difficulty, wiping a tear from his eyes. "It's-it's just-never mind." He was at last able to control himself, breathed in and smiled. "Sorry, mate. But… you might want to try to not look as hilarious next time.' He walked over to Hermione. "How'd you find my—" Ron coughed from behind. "Er—our gift? It was a very difficult task to look for novels as old as these."

Hermione looked up from the book that she had already started. "I like it very much," she said with sincerity. "I have been looking for these kinds of books ever since I learned I was a witch. But," she motioned to the box, which held about six or seven more books. "Did you really have to buy so much?"

Ron put a hand on her shoulder. "It's cool with us, Herm," he said. "These books are worth nothing compared to you. You could mention all the books in the world, but all of them combined would never amount to even the tips of your hair." He stared for a long time into her eyes, watching their honey-gold color and wondering how something smaller than a sickle could be the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

He pulled back, clearing his throat. His heart was thumping very fast and he was afraid that both Harry and Hermione could be listening and counting his heartbeat rate. He took a few deep breaths to calm down his nerves. "At any rate," he said. "We'd better get downstairs fast. Breakfast ends in twenty minutes and our first subject is Potions. Wouldn't want to give Snape any reason to deduct points from our house."

Hermione agreed. "Right," she said, placing her book down on the nearest table. "Let me just get these into my dormitory. You guys wait here." She left with the huge box in hand, staggering a little as she ascended the staircase.

"And you can take your eyes off the girls' dormitories now, Ron," Harry said once she was out of earshot. "Girls who will come out might think you're a pervert." He slapped Ron lightly on the back. "But honestly, I could have left you, you know."

Ron stared at him "What are you talking about?" he asked, although he knew perfectly well what Harry was on about.

Harry rolled his eyes and slumped on the nearest armchair. He reached for the book that Hermione had been reading, and was not at all surprised to see that she was already on page 32. "I could've left you two so that you can confess and go kiss her," he said seriously, seemingly unperturbed by Ron's surprised reaction. "I knew you wanted to, Ron."

Instead of denying it, as Harry had expected, Ron sat defeatedly on the floor in the middle of the common room. "It wasn't a question of whether I wanted to or not," he said quietly, not bothering to ask how he came to know of his personal problems. "It was a question of whether Hermione would allow me."

They both turned their heads as they heard the dormitory door open and watched Hermione climb out, carrying her bookbag, which was usually overflowing with really thick textbooks.

"Shall we go?" she asked cheerfully, not noticing the sad look Ron gave her as he nodded and led the way out of the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Weasley! Change places with Malfoy!" Snape shouted, cutting Harry's and Ron's conversation about Quidditch. He had just entered the dungeon that served as their Potions classroom. "It's about time you stop depending on someone as incompetent as Granger." He rounded suddenly on Harry. "And you. Up there with Goyle!"

Hermione, despite her hurt of being called incompetent, stepped on Harry's big toe just as his lips were forming the word "what."

"Go on, Harry," she whispered. "Please don't anger Snape. He'll just dock points from Gryffindor. We don't need that. Please."

Harry and Ron stared at Hermione's pleading expression. Seeing her face, both decided that it was best to do as she wanted. She was, after all, their Head Girl–all for the good of her house. They quietly stood up and carried their cauldrons to the back of the room, where Crabbe and Goyle were waiting impatiently.

As they passed by Malfoy, who was also carrying his robes and was obviously displeased by the arrangements, Harry could swear he heard the platinum-blonde whisper, "Used your cloak lately, Potter?"

Harry turned his head and saw Malfoy already on Hermione's table, about to sit on the chair he had just vacated. He shook his head. What did Malfoy know about his cloak, anyway?

Hermione, meanwhile, was trying to stuff one of the books that Harry and Ron had given her into her bag when she heard a soft voice whisper into her ear.

"Amid the Storms and Seas," Draco whispered. "A true classic, I see. Was that Potter's anniversary gift for you? I mean, it can't be from Weasley, can it? He's just too—financially incapable of buying that old a novel. Even if he tried to sell his 'house' he wouldn't earn enough money to buy him even just the smallest pebble in Diagon Alley."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione whispered, managing to close her bag with a small 'snap!' She averted her attention to what Snape was writing on the board in front of the class.

"A little too offended, eh?" Draco continued while he wrote down all the ingredients that Snape had indicated. "But it's true, isn't it? I've seen that thing they call a house in the newspaper. And to think that the Daily Prophet had dared publish that issue. I assure you that Crabbe and Goyle have far larger houses than that. Of course, our Manor is way bigger than theirs—"

"I didn't ask you to tell me about how large the houses of you Slytherins are, Malfoy," Hermione cut in. she took out a quill and some sheets of parchment and took down notes on the effect of the Taltaline Potion on humans and animals. She relaxed when Draco did not make any remark and began concentrating on what Snape was discussing.

The rest of the class time was spent making the actual potion and it passed with no incidents, except, of course, if you consider Neville's second melted cauldron in an hour and a half. The class went up front to Snape's table one by one to submit the potions that they had individually made and stored in small vials, then slowly filed orderly out of the classroom.

Hermione returned from Snape's table to clean up her area and retrieve her bag. As she watched Draco leave, she noticed that there was a note placed beside her cauldron. She opened it cautiously and read what was written inside. It said:

You forgot Potter's cloak the other night. You'd better get it back before I change my mind about returning it.

Great Hall, fifteen minutes before curfew.

It wasn't signed, but Hermione didn't need to see any signature to know whom it was from. She carefully folded the note and placed it in her pocket. Muttering Scourgify, she cleaned up her table and waited for Harry and Ron by the door.

"I swear," Ron whispered angrily to both Harry and Hermione. "I could kill Crabbe! He pretended to ask me a question when what he really wanted to do was to put extra powdered leaves of kiwi in my potion. And luck of all lucks, Snape came right at that moment and saw that my potion turned green instead of purple. He was ready to jump for joy! And he gave me a zero!"

Hermione smiled in spite of Ron's bad temper. "I know it was unfair, Ron. But what did you expect? They're both slimy Slytherins, and you can expect no less from their kind. You know that."

"We all know that, Hermione," interjected Harry. "But knowing that couldn't have stopped Ron from feeling furious." He led the way out of the castle and into the greenhouses for Herbology. "I mean, those Slytherins are really going too far. Don't tell me you'd be okay if Malfoy had done the same thing to you?"

Hermione shrugged. "Of course I won't. But whining won't do anything to help either, won't it?"

Ron grunted grumpily from behind them. "And neither are you, Hermione. You know what, just—just shut up. Just because you can stand it doesn't mean everyone else can. I mean, we know you're smart and all, but not all of us are as good as you are in everything."

Hermione stared, taken aback by Ron's hurtful words. If it weren't such a serious moment then she would have considered it as a joke. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded and stepped into the greenhouse. "Alright," she said. "Sorry then, Ron." She went over to their usual table and placed her books down, ready to start the lesson.

Harry cleared his throat just as Ron was about to follow her inside, pulling on his sleeve to prevent him from stepping in. Ron stopped and faced Harry.

"Ron, remember what day it is today? It's Hermione's birthday," Harry said. "You weren't supposed to do anything to upset her. Slipped your mind, didn't it?"'

Ron's eyebrows ceased to form a "V." For a moment he looked worried and glanced in Hermione's direction. Sighing, he went inside and sat beside her, but did not say anything or apologize for his earlier actions.

Harry shook his head and went in after them, seating himself on Hermione's other side.

Harry began placing his books and parchment into his bag. "Hermione," he said. "We have to go now. Why don't you just borrow that book, do your homework in the common room, and return the book tomorrow?" He slung his bag over his shoulder and Ron followed suit.

Hermione nodded, showing that she heard him. "But I'm almost done with this. Just two more paragraphs. I think I can manage with thirty minutes." She waved them of distractedly. "You two go on back to the tower. I really need to finish this essay today."

"Hermione," Harry said again, this time with an exasperated tone of voice. "That Transfiguration essay is due a week away. You really have to learn how to relax, you know." He placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder and she looked up at him, quill poised above the parchment, ready to write a brand new sentence.

"Come on, Harry. You know how Hermione is," Ron said. He had made up with Hermione during lunch, and now they were again in speaking terms. He smiled, his eyes crinkling. "She'd prepare for an exam two years away. No offense meant, Herm."

Hermione smiled back. "None taken. But you really should finish your essays today, too. I mean, this is our NEWTs year. You don't really want to cram, don't you Ronald?" She giggled when Ron's ears turned pink at the sound of his name. "What's wrong, Ronald?"

Ron's ears went further pink. "Stop it, Herm. You know fully well that I dislike that name." He turned to Harry and slapped him lightly on the back. "Come on, mate. She doesn't want us here. She only wants the company of her beloved books. We have no place in here." Despite the hurt tone that he had used, he smiled at Hermione, his eyes full of humor. "We'll see you tomorrow, Hermione. And try to get some sleep."

Hermione nodded and Ron and Harry turned to leave the library. "Night Harry, Night Ron," she called after them, and they both answered with a "G'night."

She turned back to her essay and resumed writing. After a few moments, she heard the library door shut close, and the only sound that could be heard was the occasional scratch of her quill on the parchment. For twenty minutes she worked on her essay and by the time she was done it was already 8:50 in the evening.

As Hermione placed the book she used on the top shelf, her sleeve slipped downward, exposing her right wrist and her watch. She glanced at the time and turned to her table to fix her things. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that there as something she had to do, but just couldn't remember what it was.

She reached for her bag across the table and started placing both the used and the unused parchment inside. She closed the clasp of her bag and placed her quill in a pocket of her robe. As she did so, her fingers brushed the note that Draco had left for her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. She quickly picked up her bag, ran past a scowling Madame Pince, and made her way to the Great Hall. Once she had entered the large oak doors, she slowed down and sat on a table, panting. She took a few deep breaths and looked around the room. Draco was nowhere in sight.

Hermione raised her watch to her eyes. 8:56. Darn, she muttered under her breath. I'm more than late. I'm super late. He probably already left minutes ago. She stood up from her seat and began walking to the door, determined to get back into Gryffindor Tower before 9 o'clock comes, which was the curfew for Hogwarts students.

Just as she got past the Ravenclaw table, she felt something on her robes, and she was sent falling to the floor. Her breath was knocked out of her and, as she was trying to regain it, she heard a soft chuckle from behind her. She turned her head and saw Draco, his whole body save for his blonde head absolutely invisible. He was obviously wearing the invisibility cloak and stepping on the hem of her robes at the same time.

"Malfoy, you jerk!" Hermione screeched. She picked herself up and dusted off her knees. "What's the big idea?" She stood up to her full height and glared at him.

He shrugged, the familiar Malfoy smirk drawn on his face. "It's your fault you were late. I figured you got carried away with studying, that's why you made me wait for so long. Is my presumption correct?"

"Who cares if they're correct?" Hermione said. "That was no reason for you to go and trip me." She was very ready to slap him on his pale pointed face, but she managed to control her anger and satisfied herself with glaring at him full-force. Malfoy had never seen her as the primitive barbarian she was with her two best friends, and she wanted to keep it that way. No use humiliating herself just because of a stuck-up Slytherin pure-blood.

"Correction, Granger. I didn't trip you. You tripped on your own robes. I just helped do it."

Hermione rolled her eyes impatiently. "You know what, shut up. This conversation is getting us nowhere," she said. "Just—just give me the cloak so I can go." She made a grab for it but Draco pulled it away. "Malfoy!" she shouted. "I have got no time for your stupid games! Just hand the damned thing over!" she reached out again, and once again Draco pulled it out of her reach.

"No way, Mudblood." Draco taunted. He called her by that name for the fun of it. What better way to irk Hermione Granger than to call her a Mudblood. "After making me wait for more than ten minutes you expect me to be nice and give this to you? You have got to be kidding me."

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Expect you to be nice? Never in my entire life, Malfoy. But I expect you to give me the cloak. Give it," she commanded. "Or I will take points from the Head Boy himself for stealing other's property." She tried not to grin as Draco's smirk faded. She knew exactly what he was thinking at that very second. He was thinking about what his father was going to say if he learned that Slytherin lost points because of the Head Boy.

Reluctantly, he handed the cloak over to Hermione, who was trying not to look very pleased with herself.

"Now that wasn't too hard, wasn't it?" she said as sweetly as she could. She arranged the bag she was holding and draped the cloak over her shoulders, making her seem like a floating head. "G'night, Malfoy." She turned her back to him and covered herself entirely with the cloak, fixing it around her until not even her bushy hair could be seen.

Draco stared at the doors that seemed to open and close by themselves as she exited the Hall. He had just been beaten by a Mudblood. A igirl/i Mudblood. How humiliating was that? He glared in her direction before exiting the Great Hall himself and heading towards the Slytherin dungeons.

"Your ever faithful servant has come… huh… ever faithful, he says…"

The words said were heard as a hiss, but he understood it perfectly, nevertheless. He turned to face the snake lying on the hearthrug behind him. "I know, Nagini," he hissed back. "I can sense him." As he said these words, the door in the room opened, and in came a short man. He had a balding head that made him look as if patches of his hair had been pulled out. "Wormtail," he said, addressing the man who had just entered.

"Master," Wormtail replied, falling to his knees and kissing the hem of his Master's robes. He lifted his head from the floor, but remained kneeling with his head bowed down.

Lord Voldemort motioned to the man kneeling before him. "Rise, Wormtail," he said. He stood watching as Wormtail rose from his position and dusted off his knees. "What news is there?"

Wormtail raised his head and faced Voldemort, whose eyes were red and slitted, almost like a snake's. "Master, Avery's son has graduated. He is ready for the initiation of the Dark Mark."

"Good, good," Voldemort said. He paced up and down, hands held together behind his back in contemplation. "What about Hogwarts? Is there any news about Dumbledore's plans? I know he is doing something to prepare for his fight against me."

"None, My Lord," he said. "Our spy is already in the building itself, listening in on the teacher's conversations, though he says the teachers do not say anything of importance in the corridors. He says Dumbledore occasionally calls some of them into the Headmaster's office, but it is heavily guarded with many spells. It is difficult to force his way inside without raising any alarm."

Voldemort managed a smirk. "Typical of Dumbledore to do that. But no matter. We'll find a way through that." He called Wormtail to come forward. "Come here and give me your left arm." He held out one bony hand, waiting.

Wormtail stood hesitantly, but went to his Master and complied anyway, holding out his left arm. He felt his own eyes widen with fear as Voldemort folded his sleeve upward, pointing his wand on the Mark on his left forearm. He didn't even hear what Voldemort said. He only felt the searing pain on his arm that made him wince. He could feel hot tears blurring his vision, until Voldemort broke the wand's contact with his skin.

One by one, popping sound surrounded the room. Wormtail wasn't able to see them properly for he was still dizzy with pain, but he knew who they were.

Voldemort smirked. "Come," he called. "My Death Eaters."

Next Chapter:

Insults, Draco's talk with Voldemort, and a New Death Eater adds to his inner circle. Oh yeah… reviews are pretty much welcome!