Chapter 25: Genesis and Revelations

Disclaimer: Sometimes I think these things exist as an insult to reader's intelligence. After all, how many people are going to think that I own Harry Potter? Precisely zero. But I don't, just in case you were wondering.

Thanks for 827 reviews goes to: samhaincat, foxer, Go10, ToOtHpIcK, what a wonderful world, OXBglider, Crystalised Snow, Kunochi, draconas, Slytherravengryffinpuff, blah-blah-blah-blah-blah-I-want-this-to-be-the-longest-author-name-ever-thank-you-very-much, Pheonix, Catalina, RedWitch1, Lady Mariel. Plaidly Lush, rogue solus, angeli1angeli, Saraiyu, jules37, blackonyx, Hidden Relevance, willowfairy, brettley, citcat299, KrystyWroth, Madam Midnight, LoniGirl, hjl, starr talenyn (x2), Storm079, Emily, SycoCallie, Saotoshi (x2), Sparkling Cherries, ablakevh, finally-defeated, wcoast-girl, Flexi Lexi.

A/N: I hate hot weather. Just thought you should know. We should have the long holidays in winter when I can actually think, rather than in boiling summer. And it should snow more too. Snow is good.

The results of my do-reviews-affect-insomnia? experiment are done. And they show absolutely no correlation at all. If anyone's interested: 0 reviews – g hours, 18 reviews – 8 hours 20 mins, 12 reviews – 5 hours 13 mins, 15 reviews - 7 hours 21 mins, 4 reviews - 6 hours 24 mins, 1 review - 8 hours 10 mins, 1 review - 5 hours 19 mins. This shows that, not only is there no correlation between reviews and insomnia, but also that I really don't get enough sleep.

A massive thanks as usual go to all my fantastic reviewers! You keep me going, even when the air's so stuffy I can hardly breathe, I've not eaten all day, my mind's refusing to focus and the Muses aren't cooperating. Love to you all.

On that topic, I'd like to draw your attention to a decidedly bizarre possibly-psychic occurrence; that of starr talenyn's drawing: "i was drawing the other day, and my Draco decided he wanted wings, and then there was Rita the mirror in a grey room, and another draco in the mirror that was actually smiling, without wings... they kind of took control... so, yes, that picture is from your story, i really hope you don't mind!" (Of course I don't mind! Fanart is always good.) The oddly psychic thing is that the exact same picture – give or take a few details – has been batting round my head, moaning piteously at my dire drawing abilities, since I first started planning the story. Odd, no? (and if you ever manage to scan it in, starr, send it to me with all due speed!)

And with that, onto the story. Enjoy!

There is no use worrying about things over which you have no control, and if you have control, you can do something about them instead of worrying

-Stanley C. Allyn

'What?' Ron asked incredulously. 'That greasy git let you stay there?'

Ginny simply nodded, throwing a glance in the direction of the staircase leading to the boy's dormitories. Most of the Gryffindors had already trickled through the common room on their way to a leisurely Saturday morning breakfast; Seamus, who had passed through fifteen minutes ago, had informed them that Harry appeared to be having a lie in.

At this point, Dean had given up on waiting with his girlfriend and joined Seamus for breakfast, although to be fair, his stomach had been rumbling loudly since he'd got up, and the only thing that had prevented Ron from joining his roommates had been a dark glare from Hermione.

It had, however, given them a timely opportunity to discuss Harry's Occlumency lesson of the previous night.

'Why did Snape let you stay?' Hermione asked, seemingly puzzled. 'You had detention, and it's not as if he likes you…'

'Definitely not after what I did with the Permanent Dye Potion,' Ginny mused. 'It was just a shame it didn't take longer for them to fix Willis' hair... but obviously I regret doing that very much,' she added hastily, seeing Hermione's look of disapproval. 'And since it was at the end of last year, there's very little point discussing it, especially not when we have odd, greasy Potion teachers to discuss. Ron?'

'What?' Ron asked.

'Why do you think Snape didn't drag me away and force me to clean cauldrons?' Ginny asked patiently.

Her brother shrugged. 'I've no idea. How am I supposed to know what goes on in Snape's twisted mind?'

'There's not much point discussing it.' Hermione cut in. 'There could be a hundred reasons, and we'd never know which was right. We should stay on topic. What happened after that, Ginny?'

'A hundred reasons? I can't think of one,' Ron muttered, but Ginny was beginning her story again.

'Not very much, actually. He didn't say anything, just… sat there, really.' Ginny continued. 'I kept wondering if he'd gone to sleep – do you know how hard it is to check if someone's asleep without them noticing? – but he was awake, or at least I think he was.'

'And he didn't say anything?' Hermione asked, looking worried.

Ginny shook her head. 'Not until it got really late, and he said, 'We ought to get back to Gryffindor Tower now.' That was all.'

'Do you think he's okay?' Ron asked. 'I mean, was he really upset or anything?'

'Of course he was upset, he had Snape poking around his head,' Ginny chastised him. 'And Snape's awful at the best of times. It wouldn't be so bad if it was actually someone nice teaching him…' She sighed irritably.

'Why can't Dumbledore just get someone else to teach Harry?' Ron asked. 'I mean, he and Snape aren't the only two Legli-thingies in the whole world…'

'Yes, but they're the only two Leglimens who are also members of the Order,' Hermione pointed out. 'And Dumbledore can't trust anyone who isn't in the Order with something so-'

'Hey,' interrupted a soft voice, and they all looked up to see Harry standing on the bottom step of the stairs, looking tired but otherwise okay. Hermione beamed.

'Hey, Harry. Are you hungry? We haven't had breakfast yet, but they should still be serving it in the Great Hall…'

'Breakfast sounds good,' Harry said, stifling a small yawn. He leant against the wall, giving his friends a weak kind of half-smile, his eyes seeming a deeper green than usual. 'I know you were talking about me, by the way,' he added, quite calmly, as if he didn't really care one way or the other.

'We were worried,' Hermione said simply. 'You didn't say anything when you got back…'

'I know,' Harry said, 'I'm fine.'

Ron was frowning, 'Did Snape-'

'I'm fine,' Harry repeated again, cutting Ron off. Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances. 'I'm just hungry. Shall we go eat?'

Ron nodded and got to his feet, followed by Hermione and Ginny, then headed for the portrait hole, greeting the Fat Lady on his way out, as did Hermione. Ginny was about to climb through when she felt a hand on her arm; she turned around and saw Harry.

He had an odd kind of look on his face that couldn't really be defined; like a discordant note in a song, or a pair of clashing colours, or one of those very sharp, very straight cuts that never seemed to heal properly. His eyes were too green, his skin too pale and his hair too dark, too messy, and she felt almost afraid.

'Thanks,' he said, 'for last night,' and let go of her arm, looking away.

'You're welcome,' she said, not knowing what else to say, and scrambled after Ron and Hermione.

'You seem preoccupied.'

Hermione glanced up guiltily at the sound of the casual drawl, and realised she had been preoccupied – the conversation has lapsed for several minutes and her mind had wandered back to Harry.

He didn't seem upset, but he'd been unusually quiet. Not the kind of quiet she was used to seeing from him, either. She was used to him drifting off, forgetting all about his surroundings, just sitting there with his eyes unfocused and inattentive. Today he'd been fully aware of everything around him, just… not speaking. She knew he'd been listening, because sometimes when they'd been in the middle of a conversation he'd unexpectedly contribute a few sentences which showed he knew what they were talking about.

'I guess I am a little…' she replied, giving Draco a weak smile. 'Sorry, I shouldn't be…'

'I don't mind,' he said, and leant back in his chair, examining her thoughtfully, twirling his quill in his fingers. It made her shiver. His manner came too close to her picture of an emotionless Fallen – his grey eyes cold and narrowed slightly in calculation, as though assessing her personality, her strengths and weaknesses, with no attention at all paid to the fact that she was a human being. Hermione knew that Draco didn't really think like that, but sometimes she wondered how much of his human side was actually human.

'What were you preoccupied with?' he asked.

She couldn't tell him: only Harry's close friends knew about Occlumency, and Draco was by no means a close friend of Harry's. Besides, Harry's life was his own business, and she wasn't about to go talking about it to his enemy, just as she wouldn't divulge Draco's secrets to Harry.

'My friends,' she said casually.

He leant forwards, elbows on the table, eyes almost seeming to glitter with something she couldn't name. 'You looked… worried,' he said, choosing his phrasing carefully.

She shrugged. 'I don't exactly have the most worry-free set of friends.'

He tilted his head to one side. 'What happened?'

'Nothing,' she said evasively, 'just… normal everyday stuff.'

'And 'normal everyday stuff' has you so preoccupied?' Draco asked with a triumphant half-smirk. 'You need to work on inventing decent lies. I know something's happened…'

'Which I'm not telling you about,' she said firmly.

His expression could only be described as a pout; Hermione was fairly sure he was faking it, although it was rather amusing. 'Why not?' he asked.

'For the same reason I don't go telling Harry and Ron about the fact that you're half-Fallen,' she said simply. This appeared to sober Draco immediately.

'Alright, I suppose,' he said, and didn't press for more. Hermione couldn't think of a suitable reply to this, and the conversation lapsed into a slightly awkward pause.

'Do you worry about me when you're with them?'

He was leaning back in his seat, regarding her curiously, and she couldn't tell at all what he was thinking beyond that. 'Why do you ask?' she queried, her tone more guarded than she meant it to be.

If she was being honest with herself, she did worry about him. Not as much as she worried about Harry; because Draco's problems at least had a solution she could help with, while she could do nothing for Harry except be there when he needed her, encourage him to talk…

Draco shrugged; an elegant motion. 'I just… wanted to know, I suppose,' he said. 'Would that be…?'

'Curiosity?'

'Or being inquisitive, or prying, or something like that.' He frowned. 'It's quite difficult to tell.'

'Probably curiosity,' Hermione said. There was a pause.

'So, do you?' Draco pressed.

'Worry about you?' Hermione paused, wondering how honest she should be. 'I guess I do…' He was smiling. She would never have thought, before everything changed, that she'd ever see Draco Malfoy smile like this. It was a very real smile. Almost – and it felt very odd to be thinking that about him – like a baby's smile. Almost. It wasn't the chuckling grin she'd seen her baby cousins wearing, wide with laughter, but it had something of the same quality to it. It must, she concluded, have something to do with just beginning to feel things.

An interesting idea, really; though his situation wasn't really comparable to an infant's. He did, after all, have the intellectual capacity of a sixteen (seventeen? She didn't know when his birthday was) year old, and that meant he had all the usual teenage emotions all at once. A baby wouldn't feel compassion, for instance, not until it was older.

'Preoccupied again?'

Hermione shook herself out of her thoughts. 'Yes, but with you this time,' she informed him with a small smile.

'Why?' he asked immediately. 'I mean, I know why generally,' he clarified, waving a careless hand as if to encompass the entire range of human emotions, half-Fallens, Slytherins, spies and Voldemort, 'but is there any specific reason why?'

She was not about to tell him that she'd been contemplating his smile. 'Not really, just general things. I don't really know very much about Fallens...'

He frowned. 'That's right. I'd forgotten… you haven't heard anything since that dratted mirror told you about it,' he said. 'And she didn't exactly go into detail…'

'Considering we have…' Hermione searched for the right word. She couldn't really use friendship, since Draco was incapable of it, but a truce or an arrangement seemed too formal…

'An understanding?'

Close enough. 'Yes. I'd be interested in knowing more, but only if you want to tell me…'

It wasn't just a lie or an evasion; Hermione realised she genuinely did want to know more. It could make it easier to understand Draco, and even if it didn't, it was knowledge, and not only that, but rare knowledge.

He eyes her appraisingly. 'You do realise that not even all the members of the Order know about half-Fallens, don't you?'

'Well, I did say only if you wanted to…' Hermione said, feeling a little regretful, but Draco leant back in his chair, looking at a point somewhere above her head.

'I haven't a clue whether I want to,' he said, 'but it's probably logical to tell you, and I don't have any bad feelings about the idea of telling you, so…' He shrugged. 'My mother probably knows more than I do, so if you want the really detailed information…'

'Your mother?' Hermione asked. 'Isn't she human?'

'Yes,' Draco said. 'Think about the family tree. At every generation, a half-Fallen will have married a human to produce a half-Fallen child-'

Hermione interrupted. 'Wouldn't they become progressively less Fallen and more human as time goes on?' she asked.

'No… It's to do with genetics and things. Something to do with chromosomes…' He waved a hand dismissively. 'This is one of the detailed bits you'd have to ask my mother about. Basically, there's an equal chance of the child of a half-Fallen and human being one or the other, but there is a potion that can ensure a half-Fallen birth. Again, you'd have to ask her.' He paused for a moment.

'Anyway, each half-Fallen has to marry a human to produce a half-Fallen child. The human partners have been keeping books of useful information - diaries, scientific information about half-Fallens, useful spells, some historical information, that kind of thing. Obviously, the earliest ones have been translated about fifty times, and some of them are too damaged to read any more.'

'Fifty times?' Hermione asked. 'How far back do these records go?'

'I never asked,' Draco shrugged. 'Back to the first half-Fallens, I think…'

Hermione gaped at him. 'But that was around the time of the first humans, you said, that's… Draco, that's thousands of years!'

'They aren't the originals,' he said, shrugging. 'And there won't be that many of the older ones…'

'But… do you have any idea how old those things could be? From the beginning of humanity…' Hermione suddenly felt very faint.

'Not much of it is going to be older than the other ancient documents we have,' he pointed out. 'It's only a few bits…'

Hermione was still stunned. 'Thousands of years!'

'Do you want me to tell you about half-Fallens or not?' Draco asked, appearing amused.

'What? Oh, yes, please,' Hermione said, leaning forwards. 'How did you start? I mean, the half-Fallens, that is… how true is the myth of the Fall? How did that get started, anyway, because the myth's fairly recent and half-Fallens started ages ago…'

'We've been in quite a bit of mythology throughout time,' Draco said thoughtfully. 'Various half-Fallens have told people the story, and it got written into legends. The most recent was the Bible, as you said, I think we were mentioned in there… Is there a religion section in this library?'

'I think there's one in Muggle Studies,' Hermione replied after a moment's pause, and Draco gracefully got up and went to look, leaving a curious Hermione behind. Two minutes later, he returned with a copy of the Bible, which he sat down with and began flicking through carefully, so as not to tear the tissue-thin pages.

'Genesis six, Genesis six…' he muttered. 'Here it is. 'That the sons of God saw the daughters of men; that they were fair, and they took them wives of all that they chose.' Then, 'There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.'' He sat back, pushing the book away.

'The original Hebrew phrase for 'Sons of God' was bene elohim, which some theologians believe refers to fallen angels. In other words, us, or the original Fallens.'

'And the translation as Sons of God?' Hermione asked.

Draco shrugged. 'I haven't a clue. One thing the earliest writings don't tell us is how the original Fallens and the 'angels' they fought-'

'The good ones?'

'Yes, them. It doesn't say how they came to be.' Draco frowned. 'If we were created by a God, remind me to do something very unpleasant to Him at the earliest opportunity. Preferably involving something… pointy.'

Hermione couldn't help but laugh, and Draco grinned at her. He looked very odd in that moment. The September sunlight was streaming through a window to his left, giving golden tones to his hair and skin, making him look something like an old painting. Except that old paintings were rarely seen with such an amused grin on their face.

'Anyway,' Hermione said, when she calmed down, 'what do you know about the good version of Fallens? The angels, I mean. And the war?'

'It's most likely we're the evil versions of the good ones,' Draco said pensively. 'From what we know, we were pretty much identical, except they have the desire to cause good, and we have the desire to cause evil. The main reason for believing that they were the original species is our wings… did Rita mention anything about our wings?'

Hermione shook her head. 'Not that I remember…'

'If you touch them, you get… it's hard to describe…' He paused. 'A good feeling. The writings described it as warmth and contentment, I think. And since we're the evil ones, I don't think we'd naturally have an effect like that – unless the good angels were the original species, they had that effect, and when we split off it was carried over.'

Hermione considered this. 'That makes sense,' she said. 'I didn't know that about the wings… do you have any other interesting abilities you haven't told me about?'

'You know about flying?' Draco asked, and Hermione nodded. 'I don't think so then… oh, we have lightweight bones. Honeycombed, I think, like bird's bones.'

Hermione's eyes widened in realisation. 'That's why you were so light!'

'Pardon?'

'When we played that trust game. I thought you felt really light… that would explain it.'

Draco nodded. 'Lighter bones means it's easier to fly. The downside is that they're more easily breakable, I must have broken a bone at least… fifteen times?'

Hermione winced. 'I've never broken any.'

'It's not so bad. Hurts, but you can fix it with a quick spell.'

'Unless you're Lockhart,' Hermione added with a grin. Draco looked confused for a minute, then remembered the incident in second year and snorted.

'Thankfully, I'm not,' Draco said. 'And I learnt that spell in first year…'

Hermione frowned. 'That's quite a difficult spell, it's definitely OWL level at least…'

'I was used to doing hard spells,' Draco explained with a shrug. 'Dark Arts – I told you that half-Fallens-'

'Are talented at Dark Arts. Yes, I know,' Hermione said with a shudder. 'But that's a healing spell, not Dark Arts…'

'Doing difficult spells in an area you're talented at makes it easier to do spells in an area you aren't talented at, I believe,' Draco said thoughtfully. 'It did take a lot of practice. On a bone from a roast chicken, before you get worried about me breaking people's legs…'

'The thought hadn't even crossed my mind,' Hermione said with a smile. Something about her manner caused Draco to frown at her.

'You do realise that the only reason I didn't use a living person was that it would have been impractical?' he said, quite quietly, and Hermione shivered. It was true. Fallens, after all, wanted to hurt…

'Yes. I do,' she said, and an awkward kind of silence fell over them. Why had he asked her that? Did he want her to think him cruel or evil? He wasn't, she knew that – his Fallen side was, but not the human. Was he reminding her that Fallens were evil? She'd known that, but perhaps… perhaps she hadn't accepted their nature fully. Always wanting to cause harm… talented at Dark Arts…

She shook herself, forcing her mind back to Draco, back to the library and their discussion. 'If half-Fallens are talented at the Dark Arts,' she asked, 'are many of the Death Eaters half-Fallen?'

Draco shook his head. 'There aren't many of us left,' he explained. 'Three in England that I know of… perhaps twenty worldwide. There used to be hundreds…'

'So in England, there's you and your father. Who's the third? Is he a Death Eater too?'

Draco shifted a little in his chair. 'I'm not certain I should tell you that,' he said warily. 'Dumbledore barely told anyone in the Order…'

'Yes, but this isn't about the Order, this is about… me wanting to know more about your kind,' Hermione said.

'So nothing but curiosity, then?' Draco asked. 'Why should I tell you?'

'Because I'm helping you,' Hermione pointed out firmly. 'Because I want to know. And because I don't think you care much for rules…'

'How am I supposed to know whether I care about rules?' Draco asked. 'Rules are… there. To be taken into account. If the consequences of breaking a rule are preferable to the consequences of not breaking it, you break it. Logic. One place it still seems to apply…'

'And this isn't even a rule,' Hermione was quick to point out. 'Is it logical to tell me, or not to tell me?'

'Logic doesn't seem to have much of an opinion,' Draco said, closing his eyes and leaning back. 'I'll tell you, but only because I have a feeling you won't stop asking me if I don't. He opened his eyes, looking directly at her. 'Voldemort.'

'What?' she asked, puzzled. 'What about…'

'He's one of us. A half-Fallen.'

A/N: After a gentle-ish chapter, I just had to leave you on a nasty point… Though next chapter's going to contain more, not least an explanation of a few inherent problems with Draco's little revelation. Anyone who can spot one of the problems gets chocolate. The Bible quote is genuine and can be found, as Draco said, in Genesis 6, right at the beginning. There are alternative interpretations of the passage – as there is with everything Biblical – but that one seems the most sound. Or at least the most interesting.

And now, review, review, review, a thousand times review. Well, alright, not a thousand times. Once will do. Please?