Chapter 22 – Part 2

The rolls of thunder, approaching quickly and one after the other now, were barely audible in the abandoned classroom on the third floor that Aurora chose as her hideout. No windows opened up in the walls, with the sole source of access being the door right in front of her. Lit only by her wand, emitting powerful beams from its place on the desk, the ancient scuff marks on the marble below her feet barely reached her sight.

Yet almost nothing did, for her consciousness had sunken away from her vision, her thoughts occupying nearly all of her existence. So detached was Aurora that her mind forgot that there was a storm, forgot that she had had classes, forgot everything. For blurred and indistinguishable hours, from midday till the onset of night that engulfed her now, she had sat in the only small wooden chair in the room, leaning her elbows on an equally tiny desk, and staring at the brown patterns before her. Old scratches in the wood proclaimed feelings of love toward other students, hate towards the teacher, or simply a desire to write a swearword somewhere. But none of these ancient inscriptions were processed in her mind; her fingers repeatedly traced every mark, recalling their shapes but not their meaning.

So unaware was Aurora that as a shadow of a human fell over her, she did not notice its veiling darkness, only to be awakened from her reverie by a familiar voice.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

With a loud gasp of surprise, Aurora's head jerked upward toward the source of the voice. Her frightened and rippled eyes met a pair of serene blue eyes, worn with a comfortable smirk by a boy leaning casually against the doorway. The light transformed his body into a silhouette and barely outlined his face, half of it hidden with impure intentions At her shocked response, Malfoy smiled widely, his hair falling in gold strands around his turned head.

"Draco! What – " After the afternoon's lack of usage, Aurora's voice cracked unexpectedly, and she gulped nervously with fear starting to sizzle within her. "What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same question," he smoothly replied, gently lifting his body off of the doorway and flashing a dangerous grin. "What are you doing in an empty classroom, on the third floor, all by yourself?"

Terror formed a large ball at the base of her throat, though she rapidly tried to swallow it. "I – I was just – nothing," she stuttered quietly, her muscles tensing with the urge to leap out of her chair and run out the door.

"Nothing?" Malfoy repeated slowly and thoughtfully, his head tilting inquisitively to one side as he took a few slow steps in her direction. With every advance, Aurora's panicking heart pumped faster, and her seemingly paralyzed body jerked once. A scream threatened to explode, but she managed to keep it suppressed with momentarily closed eyes.

When she opened them again, she was horrified to see that Malfoy was no longer in the doorway or anywhere in sight. Out of nowhere, the fingers of a curled hand lightly touched her upper arm, making goose bumps appear on her skin along with a sharp gasp from Aurora. He was standing right behind her, and she could feel his robes rustling against hers.

"I don't really think you're doing nothing," came a chilling whisper from behind. The curled hand, which had halted its barely noticeable path on her shoulder flattened on the curve. The thumb of his hand softly rubbed back and forth on her shoulder. Her body wanted to jerk away, but she found herself unable to move, and instead her words came out desperately.

"Please, leave me alone," Aurora asked quietly, her stomach churning as his touch did not disappear.

A clicking tongue served Malfoy's disapproval. "I'm sure you don't mean that," he assured her with a smile in his voice. The thumb stopped moving, and to Aurora's dismay, she sensed his body shifting.

"You're so tense," he suddenly commented as his other hand wrapped around her second shoulder blade, both right next to her neck, and his fingers began to press and rub her covered flesh in repeated circles. The massage did nothing to pacify Aurora's fluttering heart, which began to pump in her ears wildly at the sense of his touch. Her stomach jerked violently again, and Aurora wanted to cry out in terror, and something inside of her started screaming uncontrollably for her to get away. Only one inch separated his hands from her unclothed neck, which sent a frightened chill down Aurora's spine. Once again, she felt like his touch was penetrating deep within her, and her body squirmed in reaction.

"No, stop!" Her left hand shot out to grasp his right hand desperately, and to her relief the fingers ceased their activities. Instead, however, his right hand curled gracefully around her pale hand, enveloping her fingers as an old-fashioned bachelor may have done. Before Aurora got a chance to wrench herself away, his hand guided hers upward toward him while his head quickly bent forward near her own. Moments later, another scream lodged in her throat and horror crawled slowly across her skin as his tender lips pressed softly against her cold hand. His golden head was now right beside hers, and as his face turned in her direction, with his nose grazing her cheek, her head bolted to the side away from his intended kiss.

"Tell me," Malfoy whispered almost drowsily in her ear, with his eyelids halfway down as though intoxicated, "What happened to the Aurora I used to know? The one who was strong and defiant, the one I took to the ball?"

"You never knew me," Aurora hissed fearfully in response, petrified as a vampire victim would be by the movement of his head toward her exposed neck. But instead of drawing blood, to the violent twist of her stomach, his parted lips sank onto the pale skin, and a heavy hot breath flowed downward. His lips drew together again in a sucking motion, and his tongue lightly flicked her skin, tasting her. This brought forth a sudden cry of alarm from Aurora, who wrenched herself toward the other side of the chair and out of his mouth's reach.

"Don't touch me!" She hurriedly jerked her hand out of his, which he thankfully did not protest, but instead became slightly amused. His eerie smile made her blood freeze in her veins, and his relentlessly hungry eyes were far from satiated. He waited patiently for her to continue, and his light eyebrows quirked to urge her on. "Please, leave me alone!"

His penetrating eyes changed, as if thoughtfully considering her words, though his curved lips never faltered. "I'll tell you what," Malfoy offered fluently, pausing as his fingers reached up and traced her jaw line, "You give me one kiss and I'll leave."

Though the thought was terrifying and easily the last thing she would do, she undoubtedly and desperately wanted him to leave. Her eyelids fluttered momentarily, disgusted when his hand cupped her jaw, and his warm thumb lightly touched her cold cheek. Her breath came out in the form of a ragged question, on the edge of his will. "Promise?"

The ends of his mouth twitched upward in response, though barely visible with the shadow across his face, and his fixed blue eyes seemed calm and sincere. "I promise."

Aurora could feel the prickling on the back of her neck and in her eyes, but as she hastily gulped down the urge to vomit, Malfoy bent forward and swiftly captured her mouth with his own. Terror leapt uncontrollably into her throat though she fought with closed eyes to keep it down, and his grip on her jaw tightened firmly. His mouth moved in a sweep-like motion, grazing her moist lips with his own, before his tilted face pressed forward and his warm lips sucked on the intoxicating warmth that she offered. His hungry lips dug passionately, maintaining a steady caressing as his the tip of his tongue ran impatiently along the inward seam between her lips that denied him entrance. His thumb flexed and tugged gently on the skin right below her mouth, signaling a firm desire for her lips to part, and Aurora tentatively obeyed with the hope that he will be satisfied soon and leave. Taking advantage of her separated lips, his wet tongue immediately shot inside her mouth, rolling around and tasting her while making Aurora feel sick to her stomach. His light moan was muffled on her lips, and his tongue unexpectedly flicked hers playfully.

With the lack of air pounding within the two of them, Malfoy finally drew himself away, and their gasps for air came at the same time. A sense of delayed relief flew into Aurora's chest when the kiss finished, and her eyes shot open expectedly. To her dismay, his immobile gaze seemed anything but satisfied.

"Draco . . ." Aurora breathed unevenly, pressing herself further away so that the chair dug painfully into her flesh, but her insides clenched as his face tilted and planted another wet kiss on her neck. His grip on her jaw tightened painfully to keep her in place, and her hands shot out and clenched the cloak on his shoulders to try to push his mouth away from her neck. "No . . . you – you promised . . ."

"Let me tell you a secret," he murmured almost inaudibly against her skin, and his face rose nonchalantly so that his mouth was positioned next to her ear. His voice reduced to a whisper that sent a frozen chill down her spine as two frightening words spilled from his mouth. "I lied."

With his answer revealed, Aurora's breath came as a sharp gasp as his teeth grazed her earlobe. "Draco – " Tears of terror leapt into her eyes, and she blinked hurriedly to clear her vision as her hands struggled to get him off. Her teeth gritted in panic when his free hand smoothed its way from her neck down her chest, and her voice rose to a high-pitched scream. "Stop it!"

A violent jerk seized her body like a seizure, and with a loud yelp she wrenched away from him. The chair tipped dangerously and sent the pair tumbling downward with a painful crash that rattled their bones. Wiggling out of the chair and away from Malfoy beside her, Aurora screamed as if she was being murdered, and a hand suddenly clamped over her mouth and nose. She found herself unable to breathe, and her nails ripped furiously at Malfoy's hand as he lifted himself on top of her. With the heaviness of his body on one side of her and the coldness of the floor clashing with it, Aurora thrashed like a wild animal under his grip.

Her teeth finally managed to sink into his flesh, and his hand pulled away with a loud and painful cry as she gasped for air. Crazed fury took over Malfoy, and his unexpected violence again shocked Aurora when the back of his hand smacked the side of her face. Pain shot through Aurora, but she fought back nevertheless, and her leg bent to knee him viciously right in the crotch. Malfoy tumbled off of her in withering pain, but as Aurora scrambled to her feet, Malfoy had risen and clamped his hands on her, tossing her downward to crumple painfully on the ground.

"You bloody whore," Malfoy hissed threateningly as he towered over her squirming body, and his swirling eyes struck fear into Aurora's pounding heart. "I'll teach you a lesson!"

A brutal kick to her stomach knocked all of the wind out of her, and his venomous grip attached to her neck like five pale snakes, smashing her windpipe. Aurora flailed savagely, landing one smack on his cheek, but her head whizzed with the memory of another boy.

'Hold still,' Nathaniel hissed impatiently at her.

"No!" Her strangled scream sounded like the squeal of a drowning child. The blows were no longer separated in her memory or reality; they blurred together into one throbbing soreness, bruising her internally and externally. Pain engulfed her body repeatedly so that she could no longer feel anything other than its brutal grasp, and her mind lost control of her crazed body. She couldn't tell whether he was near her or not, whether he was whispering something in her ear or silent, as the pain took over her like a drug that kept hurting. Her blood was set aflame, but she could not feel herself move, and helpless tears streamed down her face as ugly blue began to cover her skin.

For eternity it seemed, the blows kept coming, and she was suddenly aware of a crack like a gunshot in the distance, and the frantic pounding of rain on the walls. Nathaniel's face floated in front of her, sending a silent scream racking through her body as all the horrors in the back of her mind were unleashed.

She did not sense the lack of Malfoy's touch as he pulled away; she did not see his silhouette leaving like a ghost. Pain was all that she could sense as she lay quivering on the floor, shaking like a dying animal.

What Aurora didn't realize when Malfoy got up and slowly exited the room was that he had not finished the job he had come intending to do; the one Aurora knew he would do; the one Nathaniel had done. She had not realized this because, as far as she was concerned, Nathaniel was back, doing it again. Malfoy, on the other hand, had noticed that her reactions had been too strong for his advances and had come to the conclusion that completing the job wasn't necessary. Aurora would finish it herself.

Malfoy was right. Aurora lay helplessly on the floor of the empty class room, aware of nothing but her own pain and memories. If anyone had asked, she would have sincerely told them that the blonde boy was still in the room.

'Come here,' Nathaniel urged with a twisted smile. 'It won't hurt . . . very much.'

And in her mind, the little black haired girl drew her ragged breaths in paralyzing shock and stabbing pain, reliving the worst nightmare of her entire life.

Ron wandered the low dungeon hallway, accompanied by the endless echoes of his footsteps and the ear-splitting snarling of the lightning outside. Through the few windows, the rain battered the glass like bullets while flashes of light danced across the sky and lit up the entire hallway. Yet Ron could care less about the storm outside. The storm inside of him was ten times worse, and he needed time to sort out his thoughts. Therefore, when everyone else was in the Gryfindor common room, he simply left in another direction. Harry had watched. Ron didn't dare meet his gaze.

It occurred to Ron, as he strolled down blindly, that Filch would probably be roaming the hallways, looking for stray students and eventually catching him. He shrugged, as if speaking to someone else, in indifference. If Filch caught him, fine. But he needed this time. He needed to be alone. He needed enough peace to hear his own thoughts, and though the storm crashed outside, it seemed like the casual movements of other people were a hundred times more effective at shattering inner peace.

So that's it, Ron pondered with an uncomfortable gulp. It only took five minutes for me to lose my best friend. Just like before.

The throbbing memory came back to haunt him once again, and immeasurable guilt slapped his soul. Hermione was dying, and he couldn't even touch her destiny, try to defend her or save her. He was a silent statue, though his insides cried out as if he were being dismembered. Five minutes was all it took for her to leave. Five minutes was all it took for Harry to leave, too. It was too fast. Way too fast.

I could've saved Hermione. And I could've saved my friendship with Harry. But no. And both times, it's all my fault. Some bloody friend I am. Now they're both gone.

Ron had no idea that not too long ago, Harry had thought the same thing. It's all my fault.

"Out for a stroll?" A voice from a shadowed corner of the room interrupted Ron's thoughts and nearly made him jump out of his skin. The redhead spun around wildly, facing the corner as panic set his veins aflame, until a blinding flash lit up the shadows and revealed a small animal –

"You!"

The black cat grinned from perked ear to ear, flashing his teeth unthreateningly. "Once again, I'd prefer being called 'Ramdeon', if you don't mind."

"Bloody hell, don't sneak up on me like that!" Ron was extremely irritated, but mostly embarrassed. Ramdeon had scared him yet again.

"Please do excuse me, but it is rather difficult for me to tap you on the shoulder from way down here." The cat walked into the middle of the hallway to Ron's feet, as if to prove his point by emphasizing how small he was. Ron resisted the strong urge to let his foot swing just a little . . .

"I need to speak to you about something important," Ramdeon hastily continued before Ron could respond. The cat's head tossed from side to side, making sure nobody was listening. Ron was completely bewildered. What would this cat need to talk to him about?

"What?"

"It's about your friend, Hermione."

Instantly, the redhead's heart sank to the bottom of his stomach in drowning guilt. Dread overcame him as he realized he would have to relive this feeling every time someone mentioned her name, just like he did the hundreds of times before. "What is there to say?" Ron swallowed the next part of his answer and it sunk in as heaviness inside of him. "She's dead."

"That's precisely what I need to tell you!" Ramdeon locked his large and shining eyes with Ron's. "She's not dead!"

A cough erupted from Ron, as though he had choked on air, and his wide eyes stared down at the cat in disbelief. He couldn't believe his ears. "Excuse me?"

"I said, Hermione is not dead!"

A very faint piece of hope flickered within Ron, but it was doused by the sour feeling of reality. "Yes, she is. I saw her die." The words could barely come out of his mouth, but he needed to say them. Anger instead flared up inside him. "Stop this sick joke."

The cat blinked desperately. "This is no joke! I live in Minerva's office, and I've heard her discussing it with Dumbledore!"

Suddenly, Ron couldn't breathe. The shock had enveloped him like a gripping hand, and he could barely move or suck in air. Could it be? His spirits lifted a little, yet his body did the opposite, and he found himself on his knees eye-to-eye with Ramdeon as he hopefully asked, "She's alive?"

"Well, not exactly," Ramdeon admitted but continued excitedly, "But she is in Hogwarts right now!"

The sentence hit Ron as he blinked confusedly. Not dead, not alive? "What the hell – "

"Ron, do you know which room you were in when You-Know-Who arrived?"

Ron didn't even remember where the room was, or how he got there and found Harry with Voldemort. The only two things he could remember were that it was drearily dark, and that Hermione's blood had been splattered on the wall. "No – "

"You were in the Nesskrad room!" Ramdeon explained shortly, somehow expecting Ron to understand. However, it seemed that the more Ramdeon spoke, the more confusing the situation became. His dissatisfaction must have showed up on his face, because the cat heaved a sigh and said, "Let me explain. This won't be short, but here we go.

"In a normal death, the soul exits the body and disappears to an entirely different place, probably another universe, though no one is sure. With ghosts, the soul is removed from the body but remains in this world to stay among the living. But neither of these happened to Hermione, because hers was a special case.

"She died in the Nesskrad room, under the hand of You-Know-Who. Because she was in the Nesskrad room, she didn't truly die. For perhaps an hour or two, before you and Harry left the room, she was dead. But then, her soul awakened and exited her body. But instead of disappearing to another existence, it was trapped in the Nesskrad room, a special room where souls cannot escape. There, the souls undergo incredible pain – physical, mental, and psychological – for an undetermined period of time. You-Know-Who had wanted Harry Potter to die in this room, to undergo this unbearable pain, to be stuck between life and death for eternity. But instead, Hermione died, so her soul was the victim.

"What exactly happens in the Nesskrad room, no one knows. Hermione was the first in Hogwarts history to die in that room, so we have no idea what she's going through as we speak. All we know is that the soul trapped inside is developing, trying to adapt to this new way of life. But the soul is so detached from this world, due to the effects of this special room, that we can't consider them a ghost. They can feel pain; ghosts can not.

"But at one point, the soul will learn to shield itself from all of the pain. It will learn how to live in this world outside of the human body. At this point, and no point beforehand, the soul may be released from the room and exist – not live, but exist – among the living. It's a terrible existence, more horrible than you or I could ever imagine. Ghosts may be able to find a peace inside themselves, but the soul from the Nesskrad room will never rest. All that awaits them is suffering.

"We don't know when a soul from the Nesskrad room is ready - we don't know what sign to look for. And only the most powerful of witches and wizards are strong enough to enter the room without experiencing the incredible pain. Dumbledore is one of them. He had visited Hermione several times, and tried to bring her hope. But she can't see him. Not yet; not before her soul is ready to enter this world.

"But Hermione's suffering, it – " Unexpected sorrow clutched Ramdeon, and he had to gulp it down before continuing. "I know what it's like. I know how horrible it is, for friends and family to be oblivious to your existence. It's like – " Once again, his voice cracked, and he revealed the past that he had been trying to forget for thousands of years.

"I watched them, I watched how my loved ones mourned for me at my funeral, when they thought I was dead. Especially Samara, my beautiful fiancé . . ." Tears filled up his eyes, unlike they would for any normal cat, for he was not a normal cat.

"I loved her. I loved her more than anything in the entire world. Oh, I would've given anything to be able to appear before her, even for a single moment, just to tell her that I was okay, to tell her that I would love her eternally, to be able to wipe the tears off of her face . . ." Ramdeon paused, his eyes now closed in despair, and Ron could even hear the undying love the cat had, just in his weakening voice. "She – she never deserved to cry like that."

Ron felt like his throat had run sandpaper dry, and his swallows did nothing to moisten it. After all of the ignorance he had shown Ramdeon, he never expected the cat to feel anything so deep, never imagined that he could be hiding so much.

A few deep breaths kept Ramdeon under control. "You know," the cat said dryly, "you're the first person I've told this to in at least three thousand years."

Uncomfortably positioned, Ron could not tell what he should say, and therefore said nothing. After a few more moments, Ramdeon opened his eyes again. "Terribly sorry about that," the cat said fluently as though nothing had happened. Ron was thoroughly amazed at this; he couldn't imagine how painful it would be to love someone for that long and not be able to do anything. It's like how I felt when Hermione was dying – I was frozen. And he's just recovered like that. From that moment on, Ron felt a lot more respect for Ramdeon.

"As I was saying," Ramdeon kept going, "I know what it's like to hurt that much. And no one deserves it. No one." Life returned to Ramdeon's dulled eyes, and he looked up determinedly at Ron. "So I had to tell you about Hermione, I had to tell you that she's safe. I had to let you know that you'll see her again."

"I'll see . . ." This was too good to be true, yet there was not a chance that Ramdeon wasn't telling the truth. He wouldn't have shared his past for nothing. So it's true. A warm feeling spread through Ron like he was just dunked into a warm river, and he felt a rush of emotions surge through him. Hermione's face floated in front of him.

I'm going to see her again.

He felt like crying tears of joy, the kind shed when a dearly loved one rises out of the grave and everyone weeps in overwhelming happiness. Yes, for Ron, it was as if Hermione had risen out of the grave. The words kept repeating through his head, and his heart soared like never before.

I'm going to see her again!

Suddenly, a voice like a bark sounded in the hallway, and Ron froze when he recognized it as Filch's. "Is someone down there?"

"Quick," Ramdeon hissed, unexpectedly grabbing onto one of Ron's pant legs and tugging him toward the edge of the wall. "In the shadows!"

With nowhere else to hide, Ron threw himself against the wall just as Filch came into view. Apparently, Filch couldn't see Ron because of the darkness, but it occurred to him that if a single bolt of lightning flashed, he'd be exposed. His nerves stirred and his muscles tensed, and he closed his eyes to pray that he wouldn't be caught.

"Ah, good evening," Ramdeon greeted Filch kindly and politely. Once again, Ron found himself in awe. Only a minute ago, he was crying about his fiancé, and now he was as calm as ever.

Filch, meanwhile, only responded with a dirty look, and his eyes scanned the hallway suspiciously. "Is anyone else here?" He called out, and Ron flinched involuntarily as his back pressed further against the wall.

Ramdeon walked up to Filch, stood next to him, and tossed his head from side to side. "Well," Ramdeon concluded, "It seems that no one's here, even from your perspective."

Filch growled dangerously and irritatedly, his ugly face scrunched up in concentration and distaste. "Goddamnit, I swear," he warned in a low tone, "If you're hiding someone here, Ramdeon, I'll have you kicked out of Hogwarts!"

A fake gasp escaped from Ramdeon, and he clicked his tongue once. "My, my, my, could that possibly be a threat?"

"It is, goddamnit!" Filch screeched, and his foot hurled toward the cat. Though Ron found his stomach clench, awaiting a feline yelp, Ramdeon immediately leapt gracefully out of the way to prove that his cat-like traits were unspoiled by his human soul.

"Oh, goodness, Filch," Ramdeon said slyly, "Violence is certainly not the answer. I would expect you to know that."

"I swear I'll get you one day, goddamnit!" Filch shrieked at him.

A grin once again widened on Ramdeon's face, and he looked like the Cheshire cat. "I see that 'goddamnit' is still your favorite word, isn't it?"

Ron painfully stifled a chuckle, and Filch's eyes looked like they would pop out of their sockets. Without another word, Filch turned his back and stomped away, his footsteps slowly fading away until they could no longer be heard.

Both Ramdeon and Ron let out an enormous sigh, and Ron tumbled out of the shadows. "That was a close one," Ron declared unnecessarily, and Ramdeon nodded.

"Come on, you must go before he returns. And trust me, he will return."

Ron nodded appreciatively, not sure how exactly to treat Ramdeon any more. "Thanks . . . for all . . ."

"It's the least I could do," Ramdeon insisted politely and with a small smile. "Now, go tell Harry the same."

Ron felt a little stab upon hearing Harry's name, but although he would have normally rejected the idea of going to talk to Harry, this time he knew Harry would listen. He nodded at the cat with a sincere smile and turned to walk away. Before he did, though, he looked back and asked the retreating cat a question.

"Hey, Ramdeon," he paused as the cat looked back with his big eyes, "What happened to your fiancé?"

An uncomfortable pause allowed Ramdeon a moment to construct his careful answer. "She drowned . . . in the Nile."

But from the way he carefully and painfully said those words, Ron had a feeling that her death was not an accident. Wow.

With an unshakable feeling of awe and an entirely new level of respect, Ron broke into a sprinting rush into the darkness to tell Harry the news.

As Ron had left the Gryfindor common room long beforehand, a pair of emerald green eyes watched him carefully and curiously.

Where's he going? He's not supposed to –

Snapped back by the memory of their fight, Harry instantly tore his eyes away and sharply reminded himself that they were no longer friends. His aimless eyes wandered about the crowded common room, and he decided to take one of the very few vacant chairs. He sat down heavily and stared unblinkingly at the fire before him, his insides swirling along with the same unpredictable rhythm.

Out of the corner of his eye, a discarded textbook caught his attention. It was a Potions book, lying right next to him on the floor, openly inviting his curious stare. He looked carefully from side to side, to see if someone had dropped it, but no one was nearby and his gaze returned to the book. Carefully, hesitantly, he bent forward with his fingers outstretched, gently lifting up the book. The book closed as he picked it up, and he found himself staring at the bold letters on the front cover: "POTIONS: UNLOCKING THE SECRETS OF BREWERY".

It's someone from my year.

His fingers carefully pried it open to the first page, and he caught a glimpse of a strikingly familiar name scribbled in equally familiar handwriting:

Aurora Withertopp.

Resisting the strong urge to toss the book aside as if it were on fire, Harry instead felt a curious urge to look through it. The question of how this book came to be lying on the ground crossed his mind, but in the complete absence of any possible explanation, he brushed aside the thought. His hand tilted the book as he flipped through the pages, and suddenly a folded letter floated downward from the whirling book.

What's this?

Temptation overcame him, and he carefully reached down to pick it up. Looking around from side to side, he saw that none of the other students were watching him, and his eyes returned to the letter. He felt like he was handling the answer, the secret Aurora had been hiding for so long, and in response his fingers fondled the paper and drew it closer to his awaiting thirst for understanding. Finally, he slowly pried open the seal and found himself staring at the Hogwarts symbol. The letter read:

'Miss Aurora Withertopp,

It is urgent that you depart for Hogwarts immediately. You will be informed of the reason upon your arrival, but it involves the death of Hermione Granger. Please be ready to depart in 24 hours in London. You will be instructed further from that point.

Signed,

HogwartsSchool of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

Harry's eyes widened as he grasped the meaning of the letter. Aurora was summoned to Hogwarts because of Hermione? But that doesn't make sense –

His eyes traveled upward to the date of the letter. It was dated the night Hermione died. The thought made his chest pound hollowly, and he realized that the letter had been scribbled very quickly. They must've sent for her that night . . . but why?

As if to answer his question, the sight of a photograph lying face up on the floor caught Harry's eye. He bent the letter back into its right shape, tucking it safely back into the textbook, and once again he looked around for watchers. Nobody; in fact, most of the room was empty, as it was late and everyone was going to bed. He turned his attention back to the photograph, and his fingers reached down to grasp it. He leaned back in his chair and studied it silently.

It was a magical moving photograph, with two little girls of probably ten or eleven years, arm in arm and giggling together in someone's backyard. One was a small brunette with large green eyes and a very familiar face, and she was whispering something to the other girl. That must be Aurora . . .

His attention turned to the second girl, who was laughing with eyes brightly shining, and his heart stopped. Her uncontrollably bushy blonde hair and warm, light smile were too familiar. Hermione? But – it can't be –

His hand immediately flipped the photograph over to see if something was written on the back, some reason for Hermione and Aurora to be in the same picture, and the answer was clearly printed in a short poem.

Cousins from the Start, Best Friends from the Heart!

And Harry's breath stopped coming in as he stared incredulously at the words. What? They're – cousins? His eyes felt like they were going to pop out, and his hand shook slightly as it held the letter. That's the secret? That they're . . . cousins?

The reasoning came back to him; the resemblance between Hermione and Aurora, the way their roles seemed so close, it all made sense! Even his nightmare with Voldemort holding a knife at Aurora's neck seemed to help explain it, when Voldemort had said, 'There must be something in the gene pool'. It was because Hermione and Aurora were related! That was the secret Aurora had been hiding; that she and Hermione were cousins, nothing about being possessed!

A heavy feeling settled into him, making it hard to breathe. It was a mixture of incredible relief and immeasurable guilt. After being on the edge for so long, he suddenly slumped backward in his chair, staring blindly at the fire that blew heat on his body. So . . . all of this time . . . there was no connection between her and Voldemort?

All of the pent up hatred within him died, and even with the hot air being blown in his face, his body convulsed with a small shiver. I've been so wrong . . .

The thought of Ron's defense came to his mind, and he instantly felt an immense sadness and guilt. Ron was right. Aurora's innocent. Now Harry felt like the betrayer, and he realized that he had been the one to turn his back on everyone, and on the truth. All of these ideas about Voldemort possessing Aurora had been just that: ideas. There was no drop of truth in them.

Ron . . .

Harry felt like he had to do something. All of these dark feelings were taking over him, and he needed to set everything right. He needed to get Ron back, and he needed to admit the truth.

But what if Ron doesn't want to be friends again? What if I hurt him too much?

This time, he really felt like he had lost Ron, but this time there was hope of becoming friends again. I've already lost Hermione . . . Determination flared within him. I can't lose Ron, too!

But Ron was nowhere in sight; as Harry whipped his head around, the only redheads in his view were the Weasely twins, who were busily bent together and probably planning a prank. Harry remembered that Ron had left, and he sank back down into his chair with a ragged sigh.

Well, he thought as his gaze returned to the textbook and the photograph, there's one thing I have to set straight right now.

Almost without thinking, he grabbed the textbook and shoved the photograph in between the pages. As if on fire, he jumped out of his seat and sprinted across the nearly empty common room, crashing into the door in his haste. The fat lady squealed in surprise, but Harry took no heed as he slammed the door shut behind him and raced blindly down the hallways.

He couldn't even tell exactly where he was going; his breathing was sucked in frantically, and his head whirled so much that he felt dizzy. His heart pounded away within him, and his legs burned and ached from the sudden exertion. All of these emotions were in control now. How to get to Aurora didn't matter to him now; he needed to find her, and his irrational mind was only focused on that point.

Down and down he went, and as he kept running aimlessly, the storm slipped from his mind. Yet the storm did not slip away; the lightning still illuminated the hallways, and the thunder still rolled in a furious war cry. To the patting rhythm of the rain on some windows, Harry ran as quickly as his legs could carry him, his breaths as infrequent as the thunder. He was forgetting to breathe, so powerful was the grip of his aching release on him.

After about five minutes of running, Harry tumbled forward and nearly fell over. His body could not be pressed any further; he wobbled dangerously, and his gasps sounded as dry as sandpaper. He bent over, his hands clutching his knees, trying to catch his breath in raspy pants. His body was racked with pain, grasping his thundering heart, and beads of sweat trickled down the side of his face. A question hit him as he looked curiously around.

Where am I?

It was only at this point that his mind took over, and Harry realized how stupid he had been. He was just running around, not necessarily looking, and now he ended up in an unknown place. The paintings weren't familiar, and as he looked back, he saw no staircase. I think I'm lost.

He cursed himself mentally, knowing that getting lost in Hogwarts was the last thing he should do. Who knew how long it would take him to find a way back. Something heavy pulled on his arm, and as he looked down, he realized that in his mad haste he had taken Aurora's textbook with him. All the same, he reasoned, I'll give it to her when I find her.

He paused, shamefully correcting himself.

If I find her.

Something moved in the shadows, making the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand on end. A person was walking toward him from down the hallway, and only when a brilliant flash of lightning struck the sky did Harry make out the form: ruffled blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a confident stride –

"Malfoy?"

The blonde boy smiled knowingly at Harry's confused stare, which soon froze into an icy glare. "Potter," he returned lightly, as if to mock Harry's greeting, and his smirk twisted into a sharp upward curve. Years of hatred boiled within Harry, and he felt like leaping at the bastard, but then Malfoy's eyes wandered to the textbook and he said something that shocked Harry.

"Looking for Aurora, I assume?"

Harry's eyes narrowed instinctively, and his eyebrows furrowed angrily. His reaction seemed to amuse Malfoy, who must have recognized it as something other than anger. It was true; the concern that shot through Harry's mind like a bullet wasn't about harming Malfoy, but about what had happened to Aurora.

"Where is she?" Harry hissed dangerously, taking a determined step toward Malfoy to bring him within swinging distance. Taking advantage of the situation, Malfoy playfully chuckled and titled his head to the side.

"If you really want to know," Malfoy carefully chose his words, stepping toward Harry in an equally threatening challenge, "I'll tell you."

He studied Harry's swirling eyes, relishing his fury and concern, before he informed the brunette, "She's in one of the empty classrooms down the hallway."

Malfoy's hand slipped out of his pocket, and Harry thought he was taking out a wand, so his hand shot to his own pocket. But to Harry's surprise and immediate shock, his hand wielded a quill. Harry watched in utter and wordless disbelief as the quill gracefully rotated in Malfoy's fingers, and then without warning, it snapped and floated to the ground in two pieces. The memory of his past confrontation with Malfoy returned to Harry, and he fearfully stared down at the broken quill, feeling sick to his stomach. Malfoy's shoe stepped out and covered the pieces, twisting brutally as if to squeeze the life out of them. Now very close to an immobilized Harry, he gracefully leaned forward toward Harry's ear, and his low voice whispered the thing that struck fear into Harry's heart.

"And I don't think she was studying."

With one last smile, Malfoy brushed to the side of Harry and walked away. Yet Harry could do nothing to stop him; his wide eyes were fixed on the crippled quill, with its metaphoric meaning making his blood freeze in his veins.

No . . .

His shocked hand did not feel the textbook tumble out of his grasp, nor did the sound of the crashing book reach his ears. His breaths became wild again, like they had when he was running, and he stared unbelievingly at the pieces.

No!

Rushing forward in a blind haste, his foot collided painfully with something hard and he stumbled uncontrollably toward the floor. Whipping backward, he saw that the textbook had tripped him, and with a panicked curse, his hand snatched the book off the floor. Without hesitation, his legs pumped ahead, and his head flipped from side to side, peering into each of the classrooms. They were all dark and empty, so he kept going, with the doors seemingly endless on either side as they passed him.

Suddenly, his eyes detected a little bit of light ahead. It was coming from one of the rooms, and his heart skipped a beat when he realized that Aurora must be in there. Racing harder and faster than ever, with the pounding of his feet echoing in the hallway, he nearly crashed into the doorway when he arrived. His raspy and breathless voice cried out as he steadied himself.

"Aurora!"

At first, nothing seemed to occupy the windowless and dreary room, save the beams from a wand lying on a single desk. But upon closer examination, he drew a sharp breath – there she was, sitting on the floor with her back pressed against the wall, her wide and lifeless eyes staring blankly ahead of her, as fixed as if she were dead. Her robes were savagely ripped on her shoulder and at her exposed thigh, making her look like a bruised and bleeding peasant. Her irregular and gasping breaths shook with frozen terror, and her head moved upward and downward with her desperate thirst for oxygen. Upon her eternally pale face, twisting streams of tears shined in shame. Her exposed arms were spotted with ugly black and blue, and they wrapped around her bent and scraped knees to hug them tighter toward her quaking chest. Harry gasped as his eyes saw a splatter of blood on the floor, the cause unknown, and noticed that the bruises crept past the concealment of her robes.

He did not know exactly what Malfoy had done to her, but just the graveness of her condition froze him in the doorway. Yet she did not even glance in his direction, so absorbed Aurora was in her throbbing pain. Taking a shaky step toward her, Harry cautiously and questioningly whispered her name.

"Aurora?"

One loud gasp from her chipped and parted lips made him jump in surprise, but still she refused to look at him. That was the only piece of evidence that she noticed his very existence – otherwise, she remained heaped on the floor like a pile of rags, unaware of his presence. Driven on by instinct but held back by fear, Harry gulped as he took enough steps to put her in front of him. He kneeled before her, but her eyes seemed to look through him instead of at him. When his hand carelessly dropped the textbook, an electric jolt rocked her entire body.

"Aurora? What – " Harry's hand reached for her shoulder in an attempt to awaken her from her eerily absorbing reverie, but as soon as his finger made contact with her skin, a high-pitched scream violently erupted from her throat. His hand shot back as if he was burned as she jerked herself away in panic, making her fall to the ground.

"No! Stop!" She cried out in pain, and her frozen tears sent a shock directly at Harry's heart.

"Aurora, stop it, look at me!" Instead of the commanding voice Harry expected, his words were weak and frail, and they did not seem to reach Aurora. Her eyes were still looking through him, blinded by tears and as dull as those of a corpse.

"Don't touch me!" Aurora yelled without warning, and Harry suddenly realized that she was not speaking to him, for his hands were nowhere near her. Oh my god . . .

"Aurora, wake up! Look at me!" This time he was almost begging, possessed by the fear of her eyes. They penetrated deep within him and made his stomach clench.

Her emerald orbs did not look at him, but they did blink furiously, as if she had heard something remarkable. Her mouth opened wordlessly, and her voice was weak in helpless despair. "Harry?"

Half-relieved by her response, Harry nodded vigorously, unsure of whether or not she could see him. Her eyes rolled dangerously to the back of her head, and her body collapsed to the floor in a death-like unconsciousness. Seizing his chance, Harry reached over to check her pulse at her wrist, and was horrified by the oozing and ugly bruises that covered her. He shivered involuntarily and found that she indeed had a pulse, though unsteady.

About one minute later, Harry found himself carrying Aurora's limp body toward the Gryfindor common room, a flaming hatred burning within him – at Malfoy, but most of all, at himself.

When he finally did arrive at the tower, he ignored the fat lady's squealing terror and monotonously demanded to be let in. As soon as he stepped in, he realized that only one person was still awake and sitting on an armchair – the one person who made Harry stop in his tracks once he recognized the flaming red hair. Dread possessed Harry, as he was sure that Ron would not talk to him, but it was chased away by Ron's loud gasp.

"Harry? What – what the bloody hell happened?" Each friend forgot the fight as Ron rushed forward to help.

"Malfoy," was the only explanation Harry gave and Ron needed, for Ron instantly opened his eyes wide in dread and wordlessly cradled Aurora's head, staring down at her pale and bruised face. "We've got to get her in the girl's tower. There's no way we can leave her in the Hospital Wing – what would we say?"

With an understanding nod and a surprising lack of hesitation, Ron's arms wrapped around Aurora's waist to help with the burden, and together they stumbled up the staircase toward the girl's tower.

"I'm sorry," came Harry's immediate and unprecedented apology the instant that the pair where kicked out of the tower by squealing girls. Ginny had somehow appeared and helped Aurora to her bed, and after a briefing from a slightly traumatized Harry, she began checking Aurora for serious injuries. However, a bunch of embarrassed girls had awakened, screamed unmercifully at the boys for showing up in the girl's tower, and promptly kicked them out. Now, the pair sat on their respective beds in the boy's tower, wide awake among sleeping boys.

Ron did not seem surprised by Harry's apology, and in fact he seemed like he had something urgent to tell Harry. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," Harry insisted, feeling his guilt beginning to leave him and seep into the bed spread. "You were right. I was being irrational and stupid, and Aurora's innocent, and I'm sorry."

"Harry, it's alright. Really, it is. I'm sorry I started yelling at you."

Just as the warm feeling of their friendship began to make Harry smile, a crash at the window instantly wiped the smile away. He looked up and saw Hegwig, with her white feathers bent and beaten, clutching a letter and trying to get in. Surprised and infected once again with dread, Harry's hands clutched the window to thrust it open and let the faithful owl in.

"Hedwig? What happened to you?"

In response, the bird dropped the letter in Harry's lap with a quiet screech. Harry looked down and was stunned by what he saw.

"Ron, it's a letter from Malfoy to his father!"

"What?" Ron leaned over in disbelief and read it for himself.

"Hedwig must've fought Malfoy's owl to get it – but why?"

The owl did not respond, but instead leaped out the window again, as if to tell the pair that they should read the letter for an explanation. Anger again made Harry's heart pump harder, and he had no hesitation when he ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter. A white flower that had lost many of its petals was taped to it – Harry and Ron found that incomprehensible, but it was the flower that Aurora had put in her hair, and it was the flower that she kept so preciously. Ignorant of this fact, the pair instead read the short letter.

Dear Father,

This flower I have tonight picked from my victim, a friend of that not-so-blissfully ignorant Harry Potter. I hope that Our Master is satisfied and shall accept this flower as a gift from a servant.

Loyally,

Your Faithful Missionary.

"That disgusting little bastard!" Harry resisted the urge to crumple up the letter on the spot, and Ron's hands snatched it away.

"Oh my god, Malfoy did that for Voldemort?" Ron's face twisted in disgust. "So Voldemort was trying to get back at you . . . God, I'll kill that son of a bitch!"

"Ron," Harry suddenly cut him off, abruptly changing the subject and getting out something that had been pressing him very badly, "Aurora and Hermione are cousins."

Ron blinked speechlessly. "Excuse me?"

"They're cousins!"

Ron blinked again, this time with understanding. "That makes sense."

"Yeah."

This time, it was Ron's turn to interrupt Harry and deliver shocking news. "Harry, Hermione isn't dead."

And Harry rounded on Ron in disbelief, afraid of the flame of hope just sparked, overwhelmed by everything that just happened, and most of all, not able to believe his ears. "What?"

Author's Note: Gasp! Harry is about to find out all about Hermione, and here's a hint: he and Ron aren't gonna just leave her there! If you want to find out what happens next, please review! I feed off of your feedback! (Hence the name.) Now, to answer past reviews . . .

[Usha88]: Hope you're less confused now, because everything's out in the open! And I took the time to make the conversation between Harry and Ron at the beginning to answer any confusion about the hatred with Aurora . . . but now things are gonna change – drastically! Thanks for reviewing, and it's great to have you back!

[Jae]: Thank you so much for all of your generous praise! I really don't feel like I'm doing my best here, but I'm glad you're enjoying it. Hopefully, this chapter didn't disappoint you. Thanks for reviewing!

[Inylan]: That was unmistakably the most well-worded and scholarly review I've ever gotten, and I'm not just saying that. Thank you very much for your feedback, but I don't feel as if I'm doing my best here. Actually, I do much better on my fictionpress account, but that's another story. Thanks for reviewing!