Recap: Although Hermione was deeply fascinated by the role of an empath, something pricked at the back of her mind, and she didn't hear the continuation of the empath information. Violet Eyes, violet eyes…why were violet eyes so important now?

XXX

In the bright sunshine of the late morning, an owl could be seen flying away, a letter clutched in its talons. Only one student knew where it was going, and he smiled to himself as he ran a hand through his blond hair.

Lifting his sleeve, he smiled at the underside of his left forearm. It was still unblemished by the Dark Mark tattoo, but not for very long. The smile split into a wide grin. The Dark Lord was going to accept him into the ranks of the Death Eaters. He could feel it. And when that mark was branded into his flesh he would smile broadly, proudly.

DISTURBING CONTENT NEAR THE END OF THIS CHAPTER. HOWEVER, I DO NOT WRITE ALTERNATE ENDINGS TO CHAPTERS — IT WOULD TAKE TOO MUCH TIME, AND IM SURE IT WOULD CONFUSE SOME PEOPLE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Chapter Seven: Fiery Passion

FAILED AZKABAN BREAKOUT

In the early hours of morning on September 1st, a group of Death
Eaters tried to escape from the wizard prison, Azkaban. Led by
Mr. Lucius Malfoy, most, if not all, contained Death Eaters tried to
Escape with his outside help. However, the guards stationed at
The prison caught Mr. Malfoy before he could release his fellow
Death Eaters. At an inquiry held later that morning, the prestigious
Mr. Lucius Malfoy was convicted to a lifetime sentence in
Azkaban for the attempted break out of You-Know-Who's followers.
Seeing as the dementors have joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,
Mr. Malfoy will avoid the miserable fate of having his soul sucked
From his mouth. A member of the Wizengamont, Sir Tiberius
Landon, spoke to our Daily Prophet reporter about the inquiry."Our
Law Enforcement prosecutors, along with Mr. Fudge, asked Lucius
About his intentions at Azkaban that night calmly and civilly. They
Also questioned him about his associations to the Dark Lord. His
Response was predictable, as he became quite hostile, calling the
Minister a liar and a cheat, stating that anything we had heard was
A bold faced lie. This obviously led the Wizengamont to the conclu-
-sion that Mr. Malfoy had something to hide. And now, he is where
he belongs: Azkaban." Further questioning resulted in the know-
-ledge, from an anonymous source within the Ministry, that the
Department of the Locating and Obtaining Dangerous or Cursed
Objects, along with the other departments of the Ministry, shall be
Conducting a raid on Malfoy Manor. The Daily Prophet will continue
To monitor the progression of this story and will update the
Wizarding community as information unfolds.

Setting the paper down, Hermione's face was taken over by a look of pure smugness as she tucked into a bowl of porridge. "What's up with you?" Ron asked. "Nothing at all, Ronald, just the fact that Malfoy isn't going to be very happy this morning when he reads the Prophet. Look at the front page."

She handed the paper to her redheaded friend. Harry also bent his head to read the wizarding newspaper, and a smirk made itself known on her lips as she saw the eyes of blue and green widen with surprise. Oh yes, Malfoy would be deeply disturbed by this article. It proved that Harry was right all along and that the young Malfoy was bound to follow in his father's footsteps. So much for inter-house companionship, Hermione thought.

Ron whistled as he handed the paper back to Hermione. "Always knew his father was a rat, just like him. Dad's gonna have a field day with this one, you watch. He's been waiting to get something on Malfoy for years now!"

Finished with her porridge, Hermione stood. "Well, I'll see you both in Herbology." She snagged her bag from her feet and began her trek to the greenhouses.

As she entered the vast Entrance Hall, she ran into a raven-haired girl and knocked her flat on her back. Thoroughly shocked at her behavior — even if it was accidental —, Hermione hurriedly sunk to her knees to help the young girl with her things, and to assist her to her feet. Not recognizing whom she was helping, Hermione spoke. "Oh, I'm incredibly sorry! Are you alright?"

"Thank you," the girl replied, finally looking up from the floor. "And yes, I'm fine." Violet eyes stared up at Hermione, sparkling. Puzzled, Hermione cast a line back into the ocean of her memories, trying to pinpoint the face she was now staring down at. "Kaiden?" she asked hesitantly.

Smiling brightly, the girl nodded. "I didn't know if you'd recognize me, what with you being a sixth year and all." "Of course I'd remember you! How have your classes been?" "Okay. The Slytherins don't seem to like me much, and I can't figure out what I did to offend them." She cast her eyes down, abashedly. "Don't worry about that. Slytherins and Gryffindors never get along. Mostly, the Slytherins stick together unless it's to torment the other houses. You get used to it after a while. Are you getting to your classes okay? I know I had trouble finding my way around at first. It's a big castle."

Kaiden shrugged. "I find some and get completely lost trying to find others. Right now, for example, I'm supposed to head for Charms, but I don't know where to go. Erm…would you mind helping me?" "Sure, no problem."

Hermione led Kaiden up the marble staircase, and as she did so, she remembered Professor Wellston's words about violet eyes representing an empath. Tentatively, she brought the subject around to Defense Against the Dark Arts. "Have you had a lesson with her yet?" "No," Kaiden replied, "but I heard some third years saying that she was really nice and that the lessons were interesting. Have you?" Nodding, Hermione explained about the lesson from the previous day, tip toeing cautiously when she came to the subject of empaths.

"According to Professor Wellston, the eyes of an empath distinguish them from other witches and wizards. She says that their eyes are violet." At this, she looked over at Kaiden; her cheekbones were slightly flushed as she answered Hermione's unvoiced question.

"I never knew the name for it. But I always knew that I felt more than others… but I just thought I was overly compassionate or something." She paused. "So I'm an empath, huh? I guess I'll have to go to the library…do a bit of digging on what I am." Pleasantly surprised at Kaiden's response, Hermione smiled. "I could come with you; that is if I'm not busy with prefect

or Head duties."

A few more minutes and they were at their desired destination; "Well, here we are. Charms class. I'll be in touch. See you later." Hermione turned her back on Kaiden and began walking peacefully down the hall. Glancing at her watch, she squeaked, petrified that she might be late for Herbology.

Racing through the halls, speeding across the vegetable patch, she managed to slip into greenhouse three right before the bell rang. "Where have you been?" Ron asked, as Hermione plopped into the seat between Harry and Ron. "I was up in the Charms corridor," she answered simply.

"What were you doing up there?" Harry asked. "Remember that black-haired girl that sat by me at the feast? The one who didn't know what you were famous for?" "Oh, yeah. Purple eyes." "Mhm. Her name's Kaiden. I ran into her in the Entrance Hall. She didn't know where her class was so I offered to show her. We talked on the way there and I found out she's an empath."

Ron's eyes widened. "A real empath? Wow. Amanda said they were rare —" "Who's Amanda?" Hermione asked, wondering if this was a girl Ron had a little crush on. "Our teacher. Remember? Yesterday, she told us to call her Amanda or Ms. Wellston." "Hmph. Be that as it may, I still think it's disrespectful."

"Okay, hush, hush!" Professor Sprout had finally appeared behind a table covered with pots and dirt. "Now, today will be fairly simple. But that doesn't mean your attention should waver at all from your work." Explaining the sickly yellow plants in front of them, the class set to work.

"So, Hermione," Harry began, as he picked off one of the leaves from the plant as instructed, "where were you last night after dinner? We waited for you, but you never came to the common room." Sneezing off to the side, Hermione looked at him. "Damn allergies." she said, clearly avoiding the topic. " 'Mione…come on, you can tell me and Ron."

"Well. You know how McGonagall told me that Dumbledore wanted to see me after the feast?" The two boys nodded as they ripped the thick leaves apart, letting the juice drip into a vial. "Well, when I got to the chamber off the Great Hall, Malfoy was there as well." As she continued to tell the boys about her new authoritive position, Harry's brow furrowed — Hermione knew perfectly well that Harry had wanted to be Head Boy, just like his father — and Ron's ears began to redden, a sign of immense dissatisfaction. "And even though we're allowed to come and go from the other common rooms as we please, I'm quite fond of the new one. You should come and see it! It's gorgeous!"

"What about tonight after dinner?" Ron asked. In truth, he was quite nervous. This was Hermione's new domain they were talking about. It had more privacy by far than Gryffindor Tower. True to his word however, Ron had not let any emotion of tenderness slip from him whenever near his beloved Hermione, or Harry for that matter. But this new privacy could break down the walls he had so carefully built around his heart so it could reassemble the shattered pieces. What if, when alone with Hermione, in her new room, just the quiet surrounding them, he let slip that he was madly in love with her? That wouldn't bode well with him, not after making that solemn promise to himself.

With a look of regret on her face, Hermione said, "Oh, not tonight. Sorry. I've a meeting with Melinda and Laurence — discussing patrol schedules and what not. Oh! Did I tell you guys? There's going to be a ball this year!"

For the last half hour of class, Hermione told Ron and Harry about her new responsibilities — she was incredibly excited about having to manage so much more of the student body activities — and her ideas for the upcoming ball. "I was thinking we could have it a few days before the start of the Christmas holidays. What do you guys think?" After one glance at each other, the two boys nodded enthusiastically.

The rest of the day passed quite quickly. The class-work was becoming much more difficult, and more demanding of the students; after all, they were at N.E.W.T. level now, and their professors were expecting them to use nonverbal spells. Even Hermione was having some hindrance in getting the spells just right.

All the extra effort being put toward their lessons only made dinner that much more enjoyable for the students; with the light atmosphere of good food and companionable chatter, it was a nice way to relax before the sixth years started on the masses of homework that they had been set.

"I'd better be off. I want to drop my bag in my room before my meeting with Melinda and Laurence, possibly start on that arithmancy essay. I'll see you tomorrow."

Rising from the table, Hermione kissed both Ron and Harry on the cheek before departing. She had taken to doing this every night, before bed or whenever she left for the library; their trip to the Ministry had really shown her the evil that they were up against, and also how quickly either of them could be taken from her and lost forever. She never wanted either of them to think she didn't love them. Never. They were everything to her in this wizarding world, and she'd be damned if they didn't know that.

She continued to remember all that they had done together, how their bond had grown stronger throughout every year that they were in Hogwarts, fighting beside one another. They may have had their own fights, but she wouldn't trade those boys for the world.

"Television," she said to Rhianna, who purred and allowed the stone to open up to the room beyond. Humming to herself, she practically flew into her bedroom and landed on the bed. Sighing happily, she got up and pulled quill, parchment, and her book from her bag. Into the common room she floated, and curled up on one of the black couches.

Once she was comfortable, she began to write in her neat penmanship on the parchment in front of her. In fact, this simple act of recording her knowledge on paper only increased her mood, as did the prospect of the Head meeting that was fast approaching.

Her spirits soared and she began to sing:

"How can I just let you walk away
Just let you leave without a trace
When I stand here taking every breath with you
You're the only one who really knew me at all
So take a look at me now
'Cause there's just an empty space
There's nothing left here to remind me
Just the memory of your face"

And this was how Draco found her upon entering after speaking the password to Rhianna — curled up on the couch, scribbling away and singing. And by God, could she sing. It wasn't a tune that Draco was familiar with, but he thought it beautiful all the same; Hermione sang every note perfectly, unaware of her one man audience that stood stock still, just listening to her voice and drinking it in.

It was an angelic sound, probably the best thing that he had ever heard in his life. Without realizing it, his eyes drifted slowly shut as he continued to listen to her sing, entranced by the purity of the sound as it resonated off the stone and filled the room.

In another minute, she had concluded the song and Draco still stood, eyes closed, basking in the glory of it. "Beautiful," he whispered unintentionally. If he weren't so transfixed by her voice, he would have reprimanded himself for saying that bloody compliment aloud; never would he have otherwise complimented his foe; not to her face, at any rate.

She gasped. Had she known she had an audience, she would have quit singing immediately. Never had she sung for anyone but herself — not even Ron and Harry. Singing was something she cherished and found precious, something to be her own, and on top of that, she thought herself a horrid singer. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks and her eyes fill; oh, now she was in for it. Malfoy was going to hold this over her head for the rest of their time at Hogwarts. She could hear it now: "Granger thinks she can sing! Sounds more like a cat in heat if you ask me!" It was going to be pure torture!

Bloody hell… I'm already knee deep in shit as it is, might as well go under. "Beautiful," Draco repeated, now looking Hermione directly in the eyes. "Simply beautiful. Where'd you learn to sing like that, Granger?" A moment of silence ensued as she contemplated her adversary. Finally she replied, "No were. I… I just sing from time to time. You're…" But she trailed off, unsure of whether to tell him he was the only person who had ever heard her sing. She was so scared. But why shouldn't she be? All she had ever known from the hands of Draco Malfoy was loathing and torment.

Bracing herself, she confessed, "You're the first one who's ever heard me sing before." Now she looked away from him and started playing with her hair, twisting it gently around her finger and running her hands through it; a very unGranger-ish thing to do, Draco mused. He started toward her, and because of reasons he couldn't fathom, his heart kicked its pace up a notch.

But upon seeing his advance, Hermione stiffened noticeably. She hadn't forgotten their encounter in Flourish and Blotts and all the memories it had brought back. Malfoy being in this close proximity with her was scaring her senseless, and she was sure he could tell, being Draco Malfoy and all. Can we actually continue this? Hermione thought. He hasn't called me a mudblood yet… we're actually being civil… I bet he's only coming over here to rub it in my face that my voice is terrible. I don't need to hear it, I already know it. Hmph. Well that hasn't stopped him calling me a mudblood, has it?

As she had predicted, Draco did see her tense up as he had started toward her, and it amused him. He held back the smirk that was trying desperately to show itself upon his lips, and he stopped a few feet from her. "Better get going. We have that meeting in about fifteen minutes."

And with this he turned to his bedroom door and disappeared inside.

XXX

It was a few hours later and Draco and Hermione were patrolling the corridors in complete silence; their footsteps bouncing back at them as they kept a look out for any students out of bed, it was such a straining quiet and it conceived such uneasiness deep in Hermione's gut. She hadn't ever been this distant from a patrol partner — but then again, Malfoy was the first Slytherin she had prowled the halls with, enforcing the rules of Hogwarts.

Instead of trying to initiate what would most likely be a very unpleasant conversation (surely, their civility towards one another had ebbed by this time), Hermione thought back to the productive meeting with Laurence and Melinda.

They had discussed a great number of things — patrolling schedules and the pairings — not least of which was the ball. When the topic did creep up, Hermione had confessed her thoughts on a Christmas ball. The Head Boy and Girl were enthusiastic about this proposal, and to her utter astonishment, Malfoy had also said that he had been thinking along the same lines (with a smirk playing on his lips, of course).

Being agreed upon the general time that the ball would occur, they went into more detail. The age restrictions weren't as much of an issue this year, for it wasn't banned to any students; all pupils were welcome. However, the younger the student, the sooner they would have to leave the dance. Also, instead of having the Weird Sisters perform as they had at the Yule Ball, Melinda suggested a recently new wizarding band, entirely comprised of male musicians (Melinda had blushed heavily). Hermione had heard them on the Wizarding Wireless during the summer and they had a unique sound, one that the majority of students would approve of, she was sure. Beyond that, they tackled the problems of refreshments, table set-up within the hall, and decorations.

Unbeknownst to her of course, Draco had greatly appreciated listening to her converse with Melinda and Laurence; he had fully expected to be ignored and his prediction had rung true. However, he was grateful just to bare witness to an intellectual conversation, it being such a long time since he'd had one of his own.

While the other three students had enthused over every minute detail of the blasted ball, Draco had taken to pondering how best to bring about a discussion of intellectual content with Granger. Oh, how his mind thirsted to be challenged by someone, and he knew she was the only one to do it. If only they could discuss homework, like ancient runes — by far, she understood the symbols better than he, whether he liked to admit it or not.

And so the meeting had concluded, both Hermione's and Draco's thoughts fixed on thoroughly different subjects. As they continued their trek through the deserted halls, the silence became so thick, almost tangible, and Hermione could stand it no longer. "So, uhm…" She regretted speaking immediately. She didn't sound like her calm, composed self. She never said 'uhm', so why did she in the presence of young Mister Malfoy?

"We're almost done with our patrol, Granger," Draco drawled. Even though he did yearn to speak with her, this wasn't the place. Their common room suited his intentions better than these crude stone-walls. "So just shut up until we get back to the common room." He hadn't intended to offend the mudblood, but obviously he had, for her eyes flew wide and she rounded on him.

"Excuse me, Malfoy?" she said with indignation. "What did I do that called for you telling me to shut up? Two words. I think I deserve an apology, Malfoy." She had crossed her arms atop her breasts as her eyes shot daggers at the platinum blond. As was his habit when amused, he allowed a smirk to reach his lips as he watched her. She certainly had changed over the summer, being a bit more forceful with him than he was used to. There was a slight crinkle between her brows and he had the urge to take his thumb and rub it out.

No doubt she was still pretty while angry; oh yes, she was pretty, he didn't deny that. She may have the filthiest blood in the world, but he was still a boy with hormones raging. He appreciated the slightly pouted lips that were currently frowning at him, just as he appreciated the rest of her physique. "I'm waiting, Malfoy. And I'm not moving until you say you're sorry." She's a stubborn one, isn't she? he thought.

"Well then, you'll be here quite a while Granger and I won't be waiting here with you. I have other things to do that would make better use of my time." He strode off, sure she would follow. And follow she did. "MALFOY! You are positively the biggest arse I have ever met! Are the words 'I'm sorry' not a part of your vocabulary? Is that why you're so cold? Because you just cannot apologize for your actions? By God! Selfish, pompous, pureblooded pig…"

And now it was his turn to whirl his gaze onto her. Never in his entire life had anyone used the word 'pureblood' as an insult. But she had, and to his amazement, it had worked. He was offended by what this stupid mudblood had said to him, clearly proud of her muggle parentage. How could she be? It was only the purebloods that deserved a place in the wizarding world, or so he'd been taught by his father, mother, and everyone else that his father had allowed him contact with.

"Well, Granger, the little spitfire, aren't we?" He turned and pinned her against the stone, not making contact with her at all, at least six inches between their bodies. "Now, you also owe me an apology. Which I'm sure you won't give. We're square then aren't we? I'm sure you figured out that I won't apologize for my words, and you won't either, I'm sure."

They had only been this close once before, and it had instilled bad memories within Hermione. And it was again. However, this was a different time her father had… well… It was another time they had had another bit of, shall we say, time together.

He hadn't taken her in her room this time; instead, they were in the kitchen, Hermione hoisted upon the counter, restrained by her demanding father. Her faded blue jeans lay in folds around her ankles, as did her panties, and she could vividly remember the look of satisfaction on her father's face as he plunged himself into her, over and over again, not caring that she had closed her eyes in revulsion. He was content just getting his fill of his daughter. Thrusting in and out of her with a savagery he hadn't shared with anyone, not even his wife. This was just for Hermione, for her pleasure as well as his. It was their own world of complete euphoria.

And all the while this was happening, he murmured soothing nonsense in her ear: "It's okay, baby, it's okay, Daddy's here and I won't hurt you, I promise. You're so beautiful, Hermione, really you are, and you don't have any idea how happy you make me. Your mother is so proud of you, your O.W.L. results pleased us both so much. We love you. We love you. We love you."

But she refused to let the tears fall. She wouldn't cry for her father. No. That was what he wanted to see, she knew it deep down in her gut. He wanted to see his power over her, and she wouldn't allow it. And being the Gryffindor that she was, she let no sound of pain escape her throat, didn't allow one tear to seep from the corners of her eyes as he violated her again and again…

"MALFOY STOP!" she shouted trying to push him away, her throat constricting painfully, but he had advanced even closer, and he had noticed that her eyes had clouded over slightly, seemingly unaware of him. So much pain was residing in her eyes now — from what he had no idea —, but that look of despair compelled him to move closer to the girl, and she went hysterical.

"GET AWAY FROM ME! DON'T COME ANY CLOSER, I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE, PLEASE JUST LEAVE ME BE, LEAVE ME BE!" Her thrashing became even more violent, and Draco feared she would hit her head against the stone in her hurry to get away from him. He couldn't step away, but came closer, pinning her tightly to the wall with his body, hopefully to cease her tantrum and prevent her from severely injuring any of her limbs.

"NO GET OFF, GET OFF, I WANT YOU AWAY FROM ME! PLEASE!" However, he didn't retreat. He couldn't, not even if he had wanted to. He had to admit, there was a certain…appeal to pinning the girl to the wall with his body, a very sexual appeal. But that was neither here nor there. His priority was to stop her thrashing and her screaming: surely it would wake the castle?

So he did the first thing that came to mind. He kissed her.

XXX

A/N: Well I hope you enjoyed the chapter. And now I have a favor to ask. I really don't like re-reading my work after I've typed it up, and Microsoft word doesn't really do it for you. So if you're interested, I'm looking for a Beta for "Tempest Love." As in, someone who I will send each chapter to for review, criticism and ideas for upcoming chapters. I'm in great need of one, so if you're interested, please email me (the address is in my profile). I'd be incredibly grateful.

The song Hermione sings in this chapter is "Against All Odds" by Mariah Carey. It's a really beautiful song, and I thought it perfect for the occassion. )

Next Chapter: The Aftermath. How will Draco and Hermione react to the kiss that they shared?

Reviews are greatly appreciated, as are reccommendations.