Ok I am the worst ever. You readers have been nothing but supportive and eager since I began this story almost a full year ago, and I leave you hanging for more than two months. Well this is me begging for reviewer forgivness. I guess the key reason that I've been delayed is that thanks to you, I am going to get serious and see if I could get original work published, that of couse means reading the backlog of work I had and seeing if any of it was worth devloping. On the up side-- I decided on what I want to devlop, so hopefully in a year or two I'll get published. And it because of you.

Now here is Chapter 12, there are four more handwritten pages in this chapter but lily among thorns informed me a little now would be better than all later...so chapter 12 is going to be split in two parts.

Cat

Chapter 12

Revelations

(A/N:: Not mine, how ever much I want to be a published writer never, ever would I try to claim the work of someone else. Therefore...don't sue me. The characters are not mine.)

A nervous My paced around her room trying to reorder her mind and work out exactly she was going to say to explain what Ron walked in on and simply to tell Harry the truth.

To tell her brother and best friend that she was in love with, has been with, will continue to be with his childhood enemy.

The knock at the painting covering the entrance to her room interrupted the frantic thoughts.

She opened it to reveal an anxious Harry and a distant Ron, his blue eyes showing his love despite the coldness of his expression.

"My?" Harry's voice echoed in her ear. "Ron said that we needed to talk. Are you alright? Do you need something?"

Her eyes filled with tears. Harry was important. He cared for her wanted to help her she couldn't loose him. He walked forward into her room and stopped himself wrapped her in a hug, holding her close to his body trying to make sure she was alright.

"It's time." He stepped back and looked at her, making sure her voice wans't muffled by his chest. He looked closely at her, emerald eyes clouded with confusion. He looked at Ron, whose whole demenor for the day had been distant. "Time for what?" She placed a tiny hand on his cheek and brought his eyes back to her face.

"Time for the truth Harry." She grabbed her cloak from a chair and threw it over her shoulders, letting it fall to cover faded jeans and worn jumper. "I can't talk here. Will you trust me?"

"From the beginning to the end."

"I really hope that's true Harry I really do."

The trio left her safe room and walked into the common room, all the Gryffindors happy to see the three together even if they did look very solemn. Before they could make it to the exit a first year intercepted them, a large smile on his face.

"My, My, I did it." He waved a role a parchment in her face. "I got a ninety-eight on my potions essay." From a spot in front of the blazing fire the other first years groaned even as they avidly watched their year-mate talk to the most famous with and wizards of the wizarding world.

My smiled and wrapped the boy in a hug. "Congratulations Josh, I told you that you could do it." She released him and smiled slightly as the blushing boy headed back to his friends, who were looking on in awe.

She walked to the portrait and waved goodbye to the boy she tutored and walked out of the tower. Ron threw his arm around her as they walked. "You either made that boy the envy of ALL the first years or the butt of all the jokes. And--" Ron raised an eyebrow, "Knowing how they talk about you, I'd bet five galleons he's the envy right now." She huffed, but her pleasure was evident in her brown eyes.

"He's right My. I wish a gorgeous seventh year tutored me in potions. Maybe I would have done better." Harry paused and an impish smile crossed his face. "Ah no I wouldn't have. There is no use in pretending."

She smiled at the two boys, glad that they were there for her.

"Alright boys Hogsmeade or London?" Ron's head snapped around so fast she was sure he would get whiplash while Harry just stared. "I need to speak with you without letting the whole school know. Hogsmeade or London? Although--" she mused half-jokingly, "I suppose anywhere in the world you want to go?"

Ron's eyes lit up. "Well what about Cairo? I've always wanted to go back to Egypt." Harry laughed at the manic gleam that had replaced the wall of stoicism.

He seemed happy.

Too happy.

Harry James Potter wasn't stupid. He knew something was going on. Something had shocked Ron so badly he acted numb nearly the whole day, not even the nastiness of Snape pierced the shell. He also knew Hermione was ready to open up. He could feel it. Something had happened that put an end to last four, no eight months of silence. He laced his finger through her small ones and looked deep in her eyes.

"Well if what you want to tell me requires complete privacy maybe we should go to muggle London, public and totally anonymous." My just smiled and escorted her little family to the familiar hallway.

Snape stared at the crystal in his hand, eyes narrow and angry.

How dare they?

Those two blasted Gryffindors are going to end it all. The careful groundwork he laid to keep Granger and Malfoy together. It was the least he could do. A nudge there, a detention, a distraction to keep the school from noticing the truth right in front of their eyes. He walked to the fire and tossed floo powder in the flames.

"Dumbledore."

A few moments later the Headmaster's face appeared above the purple fire.

"Yes Severus I know what's happening. No I will not stop it and no I do not think it will harm the relationship. If you are worried use your crystal to look in on Mr. Malfoy. Stop being such a mother hen." Dumbledore glared once at the potions master and disappeared.

Snape glared at the hearth. In his hand the crystal flashed and a different image filled it.

Draco sat in a plush chair deep in the library; a book unopened resting in his lap. Drake's eyes were unfocused and Snape could almost feel his worry through the quartz.

Draco Malfoy had changed drastically in the last two years. Fifth year, he was a duplicate of Lucius. The hidden bruises unable to sway him from hero-worshipping the bastard of a man. Sixth year was different; Narcissa's death hit him hard, he separated himself from the other Slytherins. He was still their king, of that there was no doubt, but he was also above them, beyond them. Beyond the petty fights of both intra- and inter-house bickering. All his focus was on avoiding the dark mark and his father. Each day had Draco growing up more as the bruises and scars faded. Then Lucius's death pushed him over the edge. Left him in a grown-up world to rebuild the Malfoy and apparently Malovious fortune and empire. The summer made him a man. The summer brought him her.

An image of eleven-year-old Hermione Ann Granger filled his minds eye. Young, idealistic, hungry for the knowledge only he could provide. He hated her. The bratty child was quickly aged in his mind's eye as worry and stress took its toll on her childish spirit. As anorexia stole vital energy from her body and aged her brown eyes. As the death of her parents and the perceived abandonment of her friends deadened her eyes. Then finally the changes wrought by the crystal cave. Her eyes were old now, haunted; a war veteran suffering from guilt that would kill an adult at seventeen.

The current Hermione Granger destroyed the eleven year old in his mind and he felt his heart open to the woman that saved his soul. He would do whatever she needed. To him, what she needed was Drake just as Draco Malfoy needed her.

My stood in the London alley and glanced at Harry. "Please Harry, Muggle cloths. We are going to a coffee shop I know." Harry took out his wand and transfigured the school robes into heavy jeans and coat. Together they walked down the street watching the muggles hurry by, frowns on their faces rushing to be home before the sun set or the underground closed.

Ron looked around nervously playing with the hem of his leather jacket.

"My are we nearly there? I don't like the looks we are getting." Ron glared at the men and boys that looked at Hermione hunger evident in their eyes.

"This is it Ron. The Gallery, the best all night coffee shop in London.

Together they entered the store, each in their own way ready for the truth to come out.

"I'd like a large coffee; black, a hot chocolate with whipped cream, and a vanilla latte," My softly asked the girl behind the counter.

"Sure. Sit and I'll bring the order by when Derek has them ready." My smiled at the tired waitress, hoping not to add to the layer of exhaustion behind her eyes.

"Thank You."

She walked away from the counter and sat down at a secluded table. Following behind her Ron looked amazed while Harry was thoughtful. His eyes made a note of everything trying to figure the situation out.

"Alright," she spoke, eyes focused of the scarred tabletop. "I'm going to tell you guys everything but please don't interrupt. If I stop I don't know if I'll be able to continue." Harry leaned back against the hard plastic chair, eyes trained on his best friend. Ron placed his large hand over hers, trying not to visibly wince at the heat from her hand. She was burning.

"My father was an only child. His parents were loving and kind, I never lacked for love and I knew that in their eyes I was special. Even after they passed away I knew that I held a place in their hearts. My mother was not so lucky; I never met my maternal grandparents they died long before I was born. I knew however, that they didn't get along with my mother. Beyond that I also knew that my mother had an older brother that she didn't talk to, hadn't spoken to or about in nearly thirty-five years. All I could find out was that after a family argument he simply moved away. Packed up and left, beginning a new life in America. Six weeks after my parents died I searched for him. I found that my uncle and aunt had been killed, a drunk driver. The only family I had left was two older cousins. I wrote them, explained the situation.

"I told them their paternal aunt was dead and I wanted to get to know them as my only remaining family. I found that after one telephone conversation I disliked them and the feeling was mutual. They were crass and arrogant. They told me in no uncertain terms that I was too young to stay with them, unless of course I was willing to give them their rightful share of my mother's money. I shouldn't have let them, but they astonished me. By their greed and their callousness disregard for the fact my parents were dead.

"At the time I laughed. I had no reason to think I would ever have to stay with them. I could stay at the Burrow, with McGonagall, with Dumbledore at Hogwarts. The idea they wanted money was laughable, especially since I had no idea how much money I inherited. It remained locked in a trust until I was seventeen." She broke off and accepted the steaming cups from the waitress.

Ron spoke up and smiled. "Thanks." His cheeks flushed after she walked away. Finally he was able to tear his eyes away from the waitress and refocus on My. She was tense; even as she distributed the cups of coffee she was tense. It showed in her face, in her shoulders and in the mechanical way she spoke.

"My lawyers contacted me last February. I learned that directly after fifth year both my parents bought extremely expensive life insurance plans; they didn't want me to without if something happened to me. Then there was the money from the sale of the dental practice, and the inheritance, not the mention the property that can along with it. I found that I inherited a net worth of nearly four million pounds. I was set for life. It didn't matter though. My parents were dead. My life at school in shambles I was completely alone. What good is money if you can't share it with anyone?" Harry leaned forward ready to reassure her that she wasn't alone. Ron stopped him. Blue eyes sad, warning him not to stop the flow of the story.

"Then the cave happened. Tears filled her eyes. "I saw you two and I snapped. I was so afraid I couldn't stand it.

"They died. All around me they burned and yet--

"They live on in my head. Their taunts, their death cries, I carry it all.

"When I woke in the hospital all I could hear was them. I was alone in the dark surrounded by the voices of people that hated me. I heard Fudge outside the door, breaking through the ghosts. He wanted to obliviate me. 'She is too bloody dangerous Albus. Seventy people are dead, pillars of wizarding society. Obliviate her and break her damn wand.' Dumbledore didn't say a word in my defense. Only Snape stood up for me. Declaring his blatant hatred for 'mind-rape.' I knew after hearing that exchange I had to leave. Get far away from England and Hogwarts. If they wanted me gone, neutralized, I would leave. But by the gods it would be on my terms.

"I transfigured my hospital gown to Muggle clothes. I went from right outside of Hogwarts to London to New York. Underage wizardry laws be damned.

"In New York I went to my cousins apartment. Begged them to let me stay." She laughed bitterly. "It had taken me nearly twenty hours to get to them and I could only stay if I didn't alter their lifestyle at all. I got an army cot in the corner and a portion of the hall closet. They showed me how to get a fake id," she muttered under her breath, "stupid American drinking laws" before continuing.

"They also told me what clothes to buy so I was better suited their environment. They were club rats. They went to drink, to dance, and to find the one true lust of the evening. I joined in. Inside a smoky club, with the beat so loud it drove away the voices I could be free. I was a natural. The music flowed into me, around me, through me. It takes away me pain and wipes the slate clean.

"I would go out every night to dance." She locked eyes with both. "Just to dance. I felt complete in the music. I didn't need a partner. I would dance from eleven to four and then return to the tiny apartment in Queens. Then I'd sleep for the rest of the day. It was mind numbing. It was exactly what I needed to erect my shields and try to remember who I was before the events of the cave.

"Then in August it all changed. I was dancing alone the voices dimmed, the previous nights fuzzy, but I could actually feel my mind begin to clear. Then he came. A pair of strong hands on my hips. A whisper in my ear. We fit together. My body knew his, together we transcended the club and entered our own dimension of gray eyes and music. A dimension where I was safe, where I was loved and I didn't have to worry about anything but the beat.

"The next day I saw him again on the streets of New York. The odds were staggering. It was a sign. That night was a different club in a different district, and still familiar hands found me. It happened every night. We never spoke we didn't have to. All that we needed was the dance.

Ron's eyes were narrow and angry, focused so intently at the tabletop he missed the look of comprehension dawning on Harry's face as she continued her story.

"We never talked, we only danced, I knew he was Drake and he knew that my name was My but that was it. During August I could feel myself get stronger, feel my wards and my shields get more powerful, enough so that I could do simple spells and deliver presents without the strange power in me making things explode. I didn't want to leave. But I was reminded. Reminded of my obligations to myself, to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore, and even if I didn't want to admit my obligation to the two of you. SO I said goodbye to Drake, and headed for England. I felt broken, my newly made and strengthened shields shattered under the stress of returning and of leaving him."

"I was a wreck, tottering on the edge of breakdown with nothing to step back on. Snape gave me that. He saw me disguised at the Welcoming Feast and managed to give a glimpse of how to leave Hogwarts. It was a carte blanche ticket to freedom and the dance I thought I was going to have to leave behind.

"Couldn't say no. I went and I danced in a random muggle club in London. The dance beat steadied my heart, even as the sight of him there, in a black woolen robe made my pulse race.

"His attire didn't matter, we danced and I was able to ignore any hints over who my blond-haired partner was."

Harry grew paler. It couldn't be. Could it? She was joking. Ron simply looked at My, fingertips so tightly pressed against the table they were white.

"It continued, the same pattern as in New York. I'd meet Drake randomly in some club in London, as if he always knew how to find me. We would dance and I could feel alive again. Until one night."

She sipped her cooling coffee.

"It finally hit me. All the inconsistencies, all the things I wasn't allowing my brain to process, every appearance, every confrontation. On day it all clicked. It clicked as I stood and saw him standing in front of me in Hogwarts holding the robe, My gave to Drake. Drake wasn't someinnocent muggle I was fated to be with.

"Drake was--" her voice faltered.

"Draco Malfoy." Ron's voice was frosty and distant, a firm lid on the burning Weasley temper.

"Malfoy?" Harry this time. Confused and hurt and dreading where her story was leading him to. He didn't want to kill again, but if Malfoy hurt her--

"Draco. I almost regressed. But the next night he was there. Just as I resigned myself to dancing alone, he was there. Just for the dance, just for that night, but he was there. It was enough for me.

"Then he was there the next night, and the next.

"I love him." She allowed her head to fall into tiny hands, tears striking the tabletop in rapid succession. In the quiet Harry placed a hand on her hair and stroked lightly. Trying to grasp everything he learned.