Title: Night of Change (1/2)

Author: JeanB

Rating: T for now

Disclaimer: Nothing's mine, what else is new?

Summary: This is the sequel to Shared Haven. Ever since the 'incident' in his haven, Zabini avoided Hermione with all his might, now, at the night he graduates, she invades his privacy once again.

A/N: I know, I know I promised a sequel before book VI was released but I was busy these last weeks and felt not even remotely creative (in other words, writer's block) and I thought I'd better publish this than nothing. The next chapter should be up sometime this month (I surely hope so). It's not beta-read so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

Many thanks to all my reviewers for Shared Haven, you have no idea how much I appreciated it.

As always, critique is more than welcome, if it's constructive criticism it's even better.

I sat there at one of the large open windows in the library and gazed out at the clear sky above the dark outline of the forbidden forest. The night seemed peaceful and quiet from here. A perfect summer's night.

I longed for clouds to appear in the sky and to mar it's perfect facade, to block the mocking twinkle of the stars from my view. I wished to hear the rain pour unto the grounds, wished it to drown out the deafening calm that was closing in on me and to veil the deceitful view of a peaceful world.

How could it not rain on a night like this? Can't even the heavens cry when I can not?

Tonight my time at Hogwarts was ending. The last remains of my childhood were irrevocably gone. I dreaded this day more and more during the last weeks and month. Not that I was losing any friends, because I didn't have any, but this was the last place where I had to be. From now on every step I took and every choice I made was a risk, wasn't secure, was something I had to take responsibility for.

Usually I loved the night. I treasured the peace it was bringing, the haven it offered when everyone else seemed dead to the world. Usually. But lately I felt something stirring inside of me. The more I thought about this day, about my graduation, the more uneasy I felt. What would I do this time in a year? Would I be able to say my life went on smoothly? That I made the right choices?

The world was open to me, or so it seemed, and everyone in my family had great expectations for me. Expectations because I was the male heir, expectations because I lived up to them before and graduated with high marks, expectations because my sister met their standards and surely I would do the same.

Oh, certainly, they were proud of me but that was a bitter comfort since it came with such a high price. They told me I did good in school an that they had faith I would chose the right career. But they didn't mean I could do everything I wanted, they meant I was free to chose a respectable job.

My mother oh so subtly hinted that I would make a great healer. A fine an remotely safe job, I agree, but somehow I thought it might be an advantage if I actually possessed people skills.

My father would be really proud if I took a job at the Ministry, preferably in the Department of International Affairs. Won't I make a great diplomat? Zabini junior walking in the footsteps of his successful father, I think not.

Even my sister had plans for me though she never said anything. She didn't need to. Every time she saw me read a Herbology book or worked in our garden her eyes glazed over and she stared at me with a dreamy expression. She had always wanted to become a Herbologist but her allergy sufficiently prevented that and now she was stuck with old, dusty tomes in Greece. She was projecting her desire on me but was too polite to outright say it.

Maybe I should have given it a try. I quite enjoyed silent plants but it wasn't really what I wanted nor would it do her any good. It would have been her dream come true, not mine.

I had told no one for what I had applied, yet. Maybe I was afraid that in the end I would be rejected, maybe I just didn't want to see the veiled disappointment on their faces.

A soft gust of wind blew through the window and brushed a few black strands of hair into my face.

I wondered if any of the other graduates had the same doubts. Did Malfoy have anything to live up to? I knew he was supposed to join the Ministry but he never objected to that. Why would he? He had the means to rise in the ranks and increase his own power. Not that he even had to work to gain power or money. Once he, Potter and Weasley went separate ways, who was there to stand up to him?

Potter. He was still in the infirmary, well, he was supposed to be anyway. Now that the Dark Lord was defeated his life had changed. For one thing his life expectancy was somewhat longer than before. What would he do with it? Had he made any plans for a life after the battle? I knew he wanted to become an Auror but would he really go through with it, now that his main opponent was dead?

Thinking about Potter's fate should have made my choice seem lighter but it didn't. It just helped to make me feel more depressed.

Somewhere in the forest a nightingale was singing. I suppose the song was beautiful but right now it just further alienated me from the outside world. There was nothing cheery about this night so why was it allowed to look and sound like this. As if it was mocking me, as if the world would be the same tomorrow.

Behind me I heard the rustling of clothes and silent footsteps. Maybe if I ignored it, whoever it was would go away. Couldn't he see I was busy wallowing in self pity and didn't need company? Apparently not, since the noise came nearer.

What was anyone doing here anyway at a night like this? I knew the party in the Great Hall was far from over and no sane person would turn away from that at the last night of the term to go into the library. No one but a couple seeking a place to make out, maybe. But this didn't sound like a couple.

I still hadn't turned away from the window. Most people were uneasy when being ignored, who was I to encourage anyone to stay by acknowledging their presence?

The person however didn't go away. I didn't hear him moving anymore but I knew he was there staring at my back.

Why is it that when you're alone it doesn't disturb you that there is no noise but as soon as you are alone with someone else an insane urge to speak grows in you?

I wouldn't say anything but the muscles in my shoulders were knitting themselves tighter and that alone was enough to worsen my mood.

I continued to stare out of the window, the night was still as clear and calm as before. Behind me the person started to move again. Dare I hope he'd leave?

Silent steps drew nearer and I knew that whoever it was made up his mind and came to talk to me. Persistent bugger!

"Zabini?"