:: Chapter Three: The Hero Must Die ::

"Any ideas?" Harry asked Ron as they stepped out of Grimmauld Place.

"Not one." Ron sighed.

"If you were a Death Eater where would you be?"

"How should I know?"

"I don't know, I've been a good guy too long, I have no idea where to look."

"Let's try and find out what Hermione was doing that day; retrace her steps. Look for clues. See if that leads us anywhere."

"We're not detectives you know."

"Do you have a better plan?"

"No," Harry said looking at the tall redheaded man standing in front of him. He and Ron arrived at Hogwarts, a place that they hadn't stepped foot in, in nearly ten years. Standing in the Great Hall they heard the faint murmurs of the children doing their last hours of studying and homework over the weekend.

"Hasn't changed a bit has it?" Ron asked looking around the old castle.

"Doesn't seem that way, come one let's get to the Headmasters office and see what he knows."

"I wonder who took Dumbledore's place, shame he had to go." They walked down the familiar halls, the faint echoes of the screams of Peeves the Poltergeist's latest victims.

"We have a slight problem, do you know the password by chance?" Harry said looking at the stone statue of the phoenix.

"I thought you had it."

"Obviously not."

"Is there a problem gentlemen?" A young woman in her early twenties asked them.

"We were just looking for the Headmaster, do you know where we might find him?" Ron asked.

"I'm the Headmistress," They gaped at her. She couldn't be older than them and yet she was the Headmistress of Hogwarts? "Angela Warner." She extended her hand toward Harry.

"Harry Potter, and this is my friend Ron Weasley. We're here on official Ministry business. Could we talk to you about your Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher, Hermione Granger?"

"Of course, come right in." She mumbled a password that the boys could not quiet make out. The room had not changed at all since Dumbledore's time, the portraits, the sword that Harry had pulled out of the Sorting Hall all those years ago, and the same phoenix was sitting on the desk. "What kind of business is this boys?" She asked.

"Miss Granger was kidnapped in London earlier today. Do you have any idea what she was doing in London?" Harry asked looking interested at whatever might come out of Professor Warner's mouth.

"It could be many a thing; you two probably know her obsession with the written word. She could have been getting another book."

"But why go all the way to London, for a book?" Ron countered.

"I'm not sure Mr. Weasley, it could be many things."

"I don't recall introducing myself." His tone was annoyed and frustrated. Angela was getting rather upset with him.

"I was only two years behind you both." She seemed a little hurt that they did not remember her.

"In your young age how did you come to be the Headmistress of Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

"I'm the granddaughter of Minerva McGonagall."

"The whole of the Wizarding world is being taken over by the relatives of past employees." Ron whispered disgusted to Harry.

"Yeah, no kidding." Harry sighed.

"I don't have any idea why Miss Granger was in London today, I'm sorry I couldn't be of more service." Angela apologized.

"Thank you anyway." Ron said standing up from his seat.

"Would it be okay if we looked around in her office?" Harry asked.

"Go right ahead." Angela said shrugging. Harry and Ron left her office.

"That was a little too easy." Ron said.

"She's either really stupid or something is really fishy here." Harry said opening the door of the Defense room. The room was very similar to the way it was when Lupin was the occupant. Portraits of vampires, werewolves and even a portrait of Lord Voldemort resided on the wall.

"Mister Potter." The portrait of Voldemort said as he stepped into the room.

"Hello." Harry didn't pay attention to the cold voice. He walked over to the desk and began opening the drawers. "I found out why she was in London."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"She lives there." Harry sat down in her chair. "How could we know someone for so long and not even know where she lives?"

"I don't know. Harry, we haven't exactly seen each other in a while either, with separate missions and all."

"How did we all drift apart?"

"I don't know."

"Let me go!" Hermione screamed.

"This is the Mudblood, Draco?" Lucius Malfoy drawled. "Excellent." He gagged Hermione so her screams were muffled.

"She was best friends with Potter in Hogwarts." Draco said pleased with himself.

"Perfect." Hermione struggled in her chair and her yells were muffled. "Lock her up in the basement. Draco you keep watch of her." Lucius ordered.

"Right away." Draco grabbed Hermione and yanked her out of her chair. He dragged her to the basement. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "Stop crying." Draco said; ice hung on his every word. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks. "Hermione stop, please." Her heart rate quickened. 'Hermione? No, he didn't.' She shook the thought out of her head. He untied the gag from around her head. "Listen, I don't hate you. However I don't like you. I don't want to be doing this."

"Then why are you?" She asked wiping the tears away from her cheeks with her tied hands.

"My father is forcing me too. My mother couldn't stop him, I couldn't stop him, and I'm trapped."

"You can stop him."

"And get killed." Draco began pacing in front of her.

"Are you still going to kill me?" Hermione asked; she was almost afraid to know the truth.

"I'm not, but my father will. He's in control now, there is nothing I can do." She choked back tears.

"Oh," She sunk back onto the floor, it was cold and wet but she didn't care.

"Hermione don't." He went and sat her up. Her cheeks were tear stained and wet. "This wasn't supposed to happen. Nobody was supposed to die."

"What is so wrong with being Muggle-born?" She asked looking into his crystalline blue eyes.

"You lucked into being a witch; I was born into it. People who lucked into it weren't supposed to be able to practice magic. It isn't fair to people like my father."

"Purebloods." She finished for him. "Like you."

"Like me."

"And my fate is to just die, to die at the hands of Death Eaters?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Wonderful." Sarcasm dripped from the word.

"Don't worry." Draco said trying to calm her down.

"Don't worry? Don't worry?! Are you bloody mad?" Hermione yelled.

"Shut up, someone will hear you and then we'll both be in trouble."

"How can you just tell me not to worry when as soon as Harry shows up, I'm going to be killed?"

"It'll take a while for him to get here."

"You obviously don't know him very well." Draco didn't say anything. He just sat there, staring off into space. "Why?" She asked her temper rising.

"Why what?" Draco snapped back into reality.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you keeping me tied up so inhumanly? Why is it on every Deatheater's To-Do list to kill Harry? It isn't like he wanted this to happen you know!" Hermione fought against the ropes that bound her.

"Will you stop?!" Draco yelled. The years of hatred bottled up inside him exploded. "Potter is the ultimate good guy, the hero. Not every thing is a happy ever after deal. The hero will die, evil will prosper and the damsel in distress," He glared at Hermione. "Will die."

"This is a lose-lose situation."

"Not at all. it's win-win for me. It all depends on what side of the spectrum you're looking from." Hermione sighed deeply and stared at the ground. "Not every thing ends happily ever after. The hero will fall."

"Not this time."

"There is no other time. There is only now."

"You're wrong. There is now, there is then and there is the moment that I watch you perish into nothing."

"I'm afraid that you have your roles reversed."

"We shall soon see."

"That we will." A smirk coated his pale lips.