Chapter One: fifteen years earlier
It was an especially dark night. The moon, which usually lit up the grounds, hid behind a solid ceiling of foreboding clouds. An October chill seeped through the thick stone walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, permeating both the heavy cloaks of its occupants as well as their moods. It was nearly 1 a.m. and those still awake were nearly at the breaking point. Lack of sleep, mental and physical exhaustion and fear of what was to come brought out temper, tears and heated words from those who would otherwise be levelheaded and calm. And for those more hot-tempered, reason was in short supply.
The Battle Preparation Class, taught by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, was winding down for the evening in the Great Hall. Pockets of sixth and seventh year students assisted one another with healing charms. Others leaned against the cold walls to catch their breaths. And still others talked animatedly among themselves about the most intriguing topic of the night.
"Honestly, Ronald! You act as though it's the end of the world!" Hermione Granger stood at the back of the hall, firmly planted with her hands on her hips, as she confronted Ron Weasley through gritted teeth. "Dumbledore says he's on our side and that's just the way it is! Besides, we can use every wand available to us when the time comes!"
At 5'6" she may have only reached his chest, but to Ron, Hermione was a force to be reckoned with. She was, after all, the smartest witch in the entire student body – even though she was only in her sixth year. And they had been best friends for a very long time – he, Hermione and Harry. But despite the affirmation she gave him every day, she had a real knack for knocking him back when he got out of line. It was unnerving, really. Ron looked around for his other best friend for moral support. Harry, however, was at the front of the hall speaking with the Headmaster.
"But, 'Mione," Ron complained as he stole a glance at the flaxen-haired wizard on the other side of the hall before returning his gaze to her once more. "Why should we accept him so easily? It's not like he hasn't made our lives a living hell for the last five years!" He pleaded with the girl he secretly loved. Wondering if he would ever get up the nerve to tell her, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders, looked directly into her eyes, and tried to convince her to see reason. "He has hurt you, 'Mione. He has hurt Harry. And he has hurt me. How can you overlook the things he did – the things he said – and…and welcome him with open arms?" He searched her eyes, which did not waver, as he waited for her response.
Finally, Hermione closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Ron thought he had finally talked some sense into her and began to smile slightly. But then she opened her eyes again and spoke determinedly. "Ron, I haven't forgotten anything. I can't. And I don't know if I would even if I could." Ron opened his mouth to concur. "But, Ron," she cut him off, "Dumbledore trusts him. Besides, I'm tired of playing games. Don't you see? We aren't children any more! We are preparing for battle with Voldemort! We go to class all day and train for battle half the night. We are adults now and we don't have time for petty squabbles!" She turned slightly to stare at the object of their conversation. His countenance gave away nothing as he stared off into space, seemingly deep in thought. Hermione's brow furrowed in concentration, as though she was trying to read his mind.
"But, 'Mione," Ron interjected in a loud voice as he flung his arms in exasperation.
"No, Ron," Hermione raised her voice uncharacteristically. She snapped her attention back to the fiery red-head in front of her and gave as good as she got. "You know as well as I that he hasn't been himself this year. Something about him is different. Something important has changed. We might not know what, but it has. Dumbledore recognizes it. Harry recognizes it. I recognize it. And it's time you did too!" Ron stared at her, open-mouthed with shock.
"Grow up, Ronald!" she exclaimed pointedly as he started to sputter. "There is a battle ahead of us and we have to put our differences aside if we are going to defeat our enemy! If Dumbledore says that Malfoy is with us, then Malfoy is with us." She stepped as close to him as she could, her eyes flashing, silently daring him to interrupt her. She watched Ron's face drain slightly of color and his adam's apple bob from nerves before she continued. "This conversation is a bloody waste of time and it is over. I don't care to discuss it again!" And with that she spun on her heel, leaving in her wake a handful of curious students, an abashed redhead still as stone, and a pair of gray eyes – carefully masked under a swoop of white-blonde hair, following her until she was out of sight.
Morning broke at Hogwarts but the sky remained dark and menacing. Hermione opened her eyes slowly and tried to focus her fuzzy thoughts on the day ahead of her. It was Friday. That meant doubles of Transfiguration and Arithmancy in the morning and then doubles of Charms and Potions in the afternoon. Factoring in dinner and a night off from prefect duty (thank, Merlin!), she estimated that she should have a good solid four hours in the library before Battle Preparation Class began again. She yawned and stretched her tired muscles as she weakly laughed. If anyone had told her on that day six years ago, when she received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, that she would soon be fighting the evil of the wizarding world, she would have pitched the letter without so much as a 'no thank you.'
"No matter," she whispered aloud. "The time is nearly here and I must be strong enough to do what is expected of me." With one last wish for another hour of sleep, she dragged herself from her four-poster bed, careful not to wake the others, and walked slowly to the bathroom. Mindlessly, she showered and carelessly threw her hair back into a band. Then she dressed, grabbed her bag and headed from her room. The dark and chilly common room told her that everyone else in Gryffindor tower was still asleep. "Pleasant dreams," she whispered to the rest of her housemates before lighting the fire in the hearth for them and slipping through the portrait hole into the hallway of the vast castle.
She had to get to the library. The late night class they had all been taking with Dumbledore had left her precious little time to finish her course work. And though she had completed her minor assignments for the remainder of the term, she still had a great amount of research ahead of her for final papers and projects. A jump on tonight's four-hour vigil would help her catch up – even if just a little bit.
After stopping at the Great Hall for a muffin to carry along, Hermione continued her solitary trek to the library. She was comforted by the silence of the early morning. She wished the rest of her life could be so peaceful. But there was work to be done: schoolwork, prefect responsibilities, battle training. And, of course, there were her two best friends. She sighed as she thought of Harry and Ron. Being friends with them was wonderful, but rarely peaceful. They were forever in some scrape or another. And where Harry was now gentle and understanding with her, it seemed Ron lived to disagree with her over this, that and the other. Ever since the end of 4th year she and he had seen eye-to-eye on few matters and his bizarre need to argue with her did nothing but annoy her greatly. Would he never grow up?
She entered the library, even before Madame Pince, and continued to ruminate on her life. She thought of her parents back home, of her studies, and her accomplishments. She was at the top of her class and of that she was proud. She had Harry and Ron to share adventures with every day and Crookshanks to keep her company every night. She knew she was lucky. And yet, something was missing. She didn't feel completely content with her life but she couldn't understand why. "Enough of these foolish thoughts," she admonished herself as she continued to prep the library for opening.
Madame Pince had informed Hermione, as Griffyndor Prefect, that she was responsible enough to open the library if she arrived first in the morning. Hermione had taken her task seriously. After lighting the wall sconces with a flick of her wand, she made quick work of returning stray books to their rightful homes before settling into her favorite table in the rear of the vast room. From her bag she pulled parchment, quills, ink and an assortment of books. Her neglected muffin teetered dangerously on the edge of her workspace. But she was oblivious to it. Getting down to task was never difficult for this bright young woman when studying was involved. She simply loved to learn. And she took comfort in knowing that every answer she could ever want was to be found right here in the library.
Yet, the answers she sought now about the uncertainty of her future were not something she could research in a book. And she found that disconcerting. Twisting a stray curl with her finger, she slipped into deeper thought. When would the battle begin? Would she be ready? Would she even survive? If so, what would she do with the rest of her life? Where would she go? What would she become? What about Ron and Harry?
Hermione hadn't even been aware that she was chewing on the end of her quill instead of writing with it until she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She came back to reality, but she was not startled by his presence. She knew it was Harry before she even looked up. They had a special connection: one that allowed them to communicate with a touch or a glance. And though words weren't always necessary, they would talk for hours in front of their common room fire some nights. He knew how to calm her down when Ron riled her up and she knew how to listen to his frightening dreams and offer sage advice only when it was called for. They were there for each other unconditionally. It was nothing they ever discussed or forced. It was just the way they were.
Hermione grinned as she watched Harry circle the table to sit down across from her. She was thinking about their first year. This bond between them hadn't always been so strong. In fact, in those early days, she had been an annoying know-it-all and he had been too overwhelmed with the new experiences of life outside of his uncle's oppressive home to pay her much attention. No, theirs was a friendship that blossomed slowly over time and grew stronger each day. And it had definitely survived lots of challenges along the way – most recently Harry's anger over the events of last year.
In fact, it had only been this past summer their understanding had reached a deeper level. After the loss of Sirius, Harry's godfather, he had tried to shut himself off from the rest of the world. But Hermione had pushed and pushed until he let her back into his confidence. Through owl post she had slowly helped him to move forward again. And then, at the end of the summer, they had been able to really connect after meeting with the Weasley family and the others from the Order to stay at Grimmauld Place at Dumbledore's request.
It had been a frightening summer for all of them. After not hearing anything for months, Dumbledore had summoned them to Headquarters (as they referred to Grimmauld Place) for an update before the start of term. The creepy home had been left to Harry when Sirius died, but Harry had not been allowed to enter it until summoned with everyone else. And being there again was difficult for everyone – especially the students, as they hadn't been told as much as they hoped. Coupled with the fact they didn't dare exit the dark halls for fear of what might await them on the street, apprehension oozed from every corner and every inhabitant. Never knowing if the battle would begin at any moment. Wondering if friends and family far away were going to be safe. It had been during that time Hermione and Harry had spent countless hours in close conversation and had come to a true understanding. It was also during that time Harry had started to take special lessons from Remus Lupin – lessons of inner strength, clarity and peace. And they seemed to have worked.
Hermione now smiled at Harry as she observed his aura of calm. He had worked hard to overcome this latest tragedy. He had a peace she craved but could not envy. She had never had to endure as much loss as he. She admired his strength, his courage and his heart. As her smile grew she felt her love for him fill her heart. She would do anything for him, her best friend. And she knew he felt the same about her.
She watched him push his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose as he sat. "Still so much like a boy," she thought to herself. But she admired the man he had become. At sixteen he was tall and strong with shocking green eyes and a thatch of jet-black hair he could never tame. Many hours of extra training with various teachers over the last month had honed his skills and toned his body. His determination was unwavering and focused.
Her smile faltered as she thought of what was to come. It had been foretold that Harry, alone, would face Voldemort in the end. She would, of course, fight by his side until that time, as would the others on the side of light. But she feared for him. Would he have the strength to defeat the Dark Lord? She shuddered to think of the alternative.
"Hermione?" Harry gently asked, breaking into her thoughts. "Don't think of it now. We can't change what's to come." He extended his hand to her and she laced her fingers with his. She marveled at his wisdom and they smiled at one another for a time before he spoke again.
"So tell me," he said as he leaned back in his chair and grinned impishly. "What was that scene with Ron in the Great Hall about last night?"
Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry tried to stifle a laugh. "Didn't he tell you?" she asked suspiciously. At Harry's half-shrug she stated simply, "He was complaining about Malfoy."
Harry wasn't surprised. After all, this was nothing new. They had all complained about Draco Malfoy, school bully and Death Eater in training, since their first day at Hogwarts. This time, however, was different and Harry knew it. Albus Dumbledore had announced at the beginning of their class last evening – already a month into their training – that Malfoy was committed to fighting on their side, against Voldemort and his followers. And while Harry couldn't understand what would turn a son against his father, especially a father and son as close as the Malfoys seemed to be, he had accepted Dumbledore at his word. Both he and Hermione had complete faith in their Headmaster, even if they did not always understand his odd methods or cryptic words.
Echoing his thoughts, Hermione spoke. "I know it doesn't seem logical. But, Harry, Dumbledore must have his reasons. Why can't Ron see that as clearly as you and I?"
Harry knew it was a rhetorical question. Hermione understood Ron almost as well as she understood herself. She knew of his caring heart, unfailing loyalty and hot temper. She knew of his monetarily poor upbringing and of his struggle to be seen out of the shadows of his siblings and his friends. What she didn't know, however, was how deeply Ron cared for her. How those feelings fueled his temper before rational thought could intervene. But it wasn't Harry's place to tell her that. Not today. She was simply venting her frustrations. And he would listen.
"It's not as if Dumbledore has taken Voldemort, himself, into his confidence," she continued. "Yes, Malfoy is rude and arrogant and mean as a snake. But he is only a boy!" Harry cocked his head to one side and raised a brow in challenge. "Okay," she gave in. "He's not a boy any more than you or Ron. But I am certainly not afraid of him. And Ron shouldn't feel threatened by him either. He's worth ten of Malfoy in my book!"
Harry waited as Hermione bit her lip and furrowed her brow in concentration. Her voice sounded far away as she thought all the harder. "He came back different this year. Something has changed. Sure, he's still rude when you have to speak with him. But he hasn't hexed us, played mean tricks or even called me foul names." She thought quietly again. "I know Ron thinks Malfoy can't be trusted, but Dumbledore is not stupid. There has to be a reason for this sudden change of heart. And I'm going to find out what it is."
Harry watched the wheels spin in his friend's head. He knew her determination would not be derailed and it worried him. Would she get in over her head with Malfoy? Or, crazily enough, might she befriend Malfoy in the process? He didn't know which was potentially worse. "You're missing breakfast," was all he said to her. He knew any other sign of concern would only make her more determined in her newest quest.
"I'm not hungry," she muttered as she stared at her untouched parchment.
"Then you won't be needing this," Harry said as he leaned across the table and quickly grabbed Hermione's uneaten muffin before she could protest. "Don't worry about Ron," he said as he stood. "He'll come around. He always does." With a quick grin he started for the front of the library before turning back once more. "And 'Mione?" He made sure she turned around in her chair and he had her full attention before continuing earnestly. "You might not be afraid of Malfoy, but you should still be careful. At least until we know his story, ok?"
Hermione nodded and watched Harry disappear among the stacks before calling out to him. "See you in Transfiguration. And don't worry, I can take care of myself where Malfoy is concerned." She laughed confidently. After all, she believed what she claimed with all of her sixteen-year-old heart. But as she turned back to her work, she nearly choked on her own bravado. Malfoy himself was leaning across the desk, his face mere inches from her own, his gray eyes capturing hers like a pin through the wings of a butterfly. An odd pulling sensation made its way into her stomach and she found it difficult to breathe. It was if she were falling into his eyes…his beautiful and dangerous eyes.
"Hello, Hermione," he whispered with a smirk, before watching her pale and sink to her seat in shock.