A/N: (In Gollum-like voice... I do apologize, I was watching LotR) Many, many thankses to the following: -carcrash, little mimi, san01, All-American Vampire, kat6528, professionaldooropener, inappropriate-name, Ms. Dwyn Snape, teneraestnox, Universal Hope, tom's a hottie, Dancing Pickle, Sophiax, Mrs Pierre Bouvier, PapayaCrazy, Eleriel, keeper of the heart, njp, Kitty0617, BabyGooGoo2, CardboardCreative, Twilight Elf-Maiden, DGloveangel, PhanPhic-adict, sweet-essence03, CareBearErin, Shanghai Honey, Gaerwen, and LaNi-GoLDfiSh. 374 reviews... (sniffles) did I... just give me a moment. (pauses and blows nose loudly) Did I ever tell you lovely people... how much I love you all! Oh, goodness I love yins! (sobs loudly and hiccups)

Anyways... thanks so much to you all and even those silent readers. My sincerest and deepest apologies for not posting on Monday. I hope that you'll find this chapter to satisfaction nonetheless. Enjoy!

Chapter 27 – The Play's Last Practice

Voldemort swirled the thoughts from Wormtail's memory around in the bowl. The last two he had witnessed were enough to make him angry as a hornet. He felt as though he could demolish a whole city with a single curse. Dumbledore was back and they were planning to keep his return quiet as possible for as long as possible. Voldemort was thankful that this wouldn't last long because people's memories would alter. They wouldn't remember attending his funeral or even how they felt when they found out that he had died, for he was no longer deceased.

With everyone knowing that Dumbledore was back, would that make the hope rekindle to a dangerous point for Voldemort? How could the one person he ever felt any affection for do such a thing to him? Why did she want to bring him down so badly? Was it not enough that he offered her in the power she could have as bearer of his dark heir? It angered him further how she refused to take up his offer. He swirled the thoughts more furiously and prodded one with his wand.

There was Wormtail in Snape's house. Narcissa Malfoy was sobbing uncontrollably upon a small couch as Bellatrix glared at Wormtail.

"Where is Snape?" she hissed at Peter.

"He's gone to see the Dark Lord I told you," Peter replied in a strangely distracted voice. He was staring at Narcissa and concern was etched all over his fat, dirty, and sweat covered face.

"Come, Cissy," Bellatrix said as she laid a hand on Narcissa shoulder.

"Leave me, Bella," Narcissa growled, batting away her sister's hand. "I'm waiting here until Severus returns!"

"There's nothing he can do for Draco now," Bellatrix groaned.

"He's going to explain to me why he didn't uphold his vow... we made it unbreakable!" Narcissa snapped in a whiny tone.

Wormtail walked over to Narcissa and knelt down before her, taking her delicately pale had in his filthy, calloused ones. Narcissa made no move as she was overcome by another wave of emotional tears, hiccups escaping her mouth. Bellatrix grimaced at Wormtail in a challenging way as he stroked Narcissa's hand.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Malfoy," Wormtail cooed. "All will be better once the Dark Lord gains control of the wizarding world. I'm sure he'll find a way for you to go back and fix it."

The memory faded out after this and Voldemort found himself looking at the bowl of glowing blue liquid mist once more. He swirled them around again and as he did, he felt a sort of rushing start at the back of his head and work its way forward with blinding force. He clutched the table top for support as it happened again, his knees weakening from the pain he was enduring.

A thought stood out in his mind. He saw his own long white hands holding a dirty, crinkled copy of the Daily Prophet. He faintly remembered this scene from somewhere before. This was how things looked when he read Dumbledore's front page obituary, but that wasn't what was on there now. In fact, he could scarcely remember Dumbledore's death. Instead, on the front of the page was a picture of a snide looking boy with his mother and father, all with platinum blond hair. It was Lucius, his wife, and hi son, the one Voldemort wanted to punish for failing on his mission. But it would appear that he wouldn't get to punish the boy.

The title of the cover page screamed in bold letters of a death of a sixth year boy from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The article said that the boy died by the hand of his Advanced Potions teacher, one Severus Snape. He had been trying to protect the Headmaster, Albus Dumbldore. The article continue to tell that Dumbledore was in failing health from the description given by the Headmaster himself who had been the one to explain the boy's death.

Voldemort walked slowly to his chair and dropped down into it, his thin irony fingers massaging his temples. Everything was changing. He needed to make his move and make it now before too much more could be changed. He pulled out his wand and the fire blazed to full life, making the room glow an eerie amber color. He levitated a small pot down off the mantle and threw the last of a sparkling powder into the blazing hearth.

Voldemort leaned forward and stuck his head into the emerald green flames. This was a risk, most definitely because Floo networks were being monitored, but Voldemort needed Lucius. He was now looking into Malfoy's home and saw a startled looking Lucius Malfoy sitting in a black leather chair.

"Meet at my quarters instantly... round up the others as well. Quickly!" Voldemort ordered in a hushed hissing tone.

"I don't believe your changed end will stay secret much longer," McGonagall sighed as she dropped the Daily Prophet upon the table top. "It was nice while it lasted, but people are starting to remember that it wasn't you who died, but young Malfoy instead."

"We'll be fine, Minerva," Dumbledore beamed from the other end of the worn table in Number Twelve's dingy kitchen. "They still don't know where I'm hiding out at anyways. Now, in the mean time, I need you to do something for me."

"And what's that?" Minerva asked as she felt gratefulness flood her to the brink of tears. She had missed Dumbledore so, and to have him back was a miracle of indescribable feeling.

"I need you to go get the instrument Miss Granger stumbled upon and bring it to me... she will need rescuing very soon," Dumbledore informed. "We can't leave her in the past forever."

"Yes, sir," McGonagall mumbled as she bowed her head and nodded with her eyes closed.

"Something wrong, Minerva?" Dumbledore inquired cheerfully.

"I won't know how to face Miss Granger when she returns. How do I explain to her what happened?"

"You just leave that to me... she'll understand soon enough, believe me," Dumbledore comforted. "Now, I believe finding that instrument won't take long... if you will, please?"

McGonagall nodded and got up slowly. She took a deep breath, her chest rising in a determined sort of way as she turned and left the kitchen, her destination Hogwarts' Room of Requirement.

Hermione sat at breakfast munching on some toast and marmalade, quietly savoring it and the peace that surrounded her. She was one of the first ones up and she intended on enjoying the quiet because today was the last day of Christmas break. Her beloved silence didn't last long though because Leo, Sandie, and Brian came walking into the Great Hall, all taking a seat at Gryffindor table.

Hermione looked curiously to Leo who should have went on his way to the Hufflepuff table, but she soon shrugged it off as Sandie turned to her and smiled.

"I see you're wearing your Christmas present finally," she pointed out as she nodded to the gold charm bracelet on her wrist that she and Tiffany had bought her.

"Yeah, thanks by the way," Hermione beamed as she admired it.

"So, did you girls see the paper?" Brian asked, turning the conversation dark.

"No. Why?" Sandie replied.

"Grindelwald made another attack with his followers on the south of London," Brian informed.

"How many hurt this time?" Leo asked boredly.

Hermione turned to him in disgust. His tone wasn't fitting and it angered her that he didn't really seem to care.

"How heartless are you?" Hermione snapped.

"Well, if other people can throw caution to the wind and embrace evil, why should I give a fly bubotuber's behind what happens?" Leo barked.

"Oh, grow up!" Hermione yelled as she stood up and stormed away from the table.

"Well, why don't you open your eyes!" he shouted as she left the Great Hall.

She stopped at the door and glared back at him as he got up and went to the Hufflepuff table. How could he have gone from so sweet and caring to so annoying and pompous? He was truly just like Ron.

"Welcome back cast members," Dumbledore greeted over the students in the Great Hall. "I have good news!"

"Covington learned to act!" someone shouted.

There was a burst of laughter in the room and Brian scowled as Dumbledore smiled and shook his head.

"Your costumes are completed and this will be our last practice before the actual play," he informed.

"But I thought the play was going to be at the end of the year!" someone else yelled.

"I'm afraid that the date will have to be moved due to my involvement in some other... things," Dumbledore explained.

The students knew not to ask, they all understood that it was Grindelwald he was talking about. The air in the room went from amused and excited to tense and serious. Dumbledore apparently wished for it not to be so as he clapped his hands once and called for the students to suit up. The students appeared once more, all in full costume and looking quite ready to practice.

"May I have Carlotta, Meg, Madam Giry, Raoul, Andre, and Firmin over here, please," Dumbledore called. "And here I need Christine and the Phantom."

The students moved to their spots and practice began, Tom and Hermione hardly able to practice their scene of Music of the Night for the eyes that spied upon them. They practiced best they could nonetheless and when the time came, Dumbledore called for different places.

"I need Christine and Raoul over here," he spoke loudly. "And over here I need Carlotta, Madam Giry, Meg, Andre, and Firmin. Mr. Hornby... please fill in on Raoul's part here."

Hermione walked up to Leo and took a deep breath, holding her head high and her shoulders back.

"I believe it's your line," Leo mumbled as he looked around at everyone while Hermione rolled her eyes and prepared to speak her line.

"Raoul, I'm frightened. Don't make me do this. Raoul. It scares me. Don't put me through this ordeal by fire. He'll take me. I know. We'll be parted forever. He won't let me go. What I once used to dream," Hermione acted, "I now dread."

"I'm so sure you do," Leo grumbled.

"If you're going to be a jerk like this, we shall never get through this," Hermione hissed. She huffed and continued her lines. "If he finds me it won't ever end."

She paused and took a small breath as her voice picked up an ear pleasing melody, her voice like a violin solo in a beautiful symphony.

"And he'll always be there singing songs in my head. He'll always be there singing songs in my head."

"You said yourself he was nothing but a man, yet while he lives he will haunt us till we're dead," Leo spoke quickly as though his wished to end this part of practice as fast as possible.

"Twisted every way, what answer can I give? Am I to risk my life to win the chance to live? Can I betray the man who once inspired my voice? Do I become his prey? Do I have any choice? He kills without a thought. He murders all that's good," Hermione sang in a worried sounding voice.

"That he does," Leo muttered.

"Will you stop!" Hermione snapped. "Just practice and quick mouthing off!"

"Fine," Leo answered nonchalantly.

"He murders all that's good," Hermione repeated in song. "I know I can't refuse, and yet I wish I could. Oh God, if I agree what horrors wait for me, in this, the Phantom's opera?"

"Christine, Christine," Leo said boredly.

"You're supposed to sing it," Hermione interjected.

"Fine... Christine, Christine," Leo overacted with a foul attitude, but he soon became serious as Hermione glared at him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. "Don't think that I don't care, but every hope, and every prayer rests on you now."

They leaned forward to hug from the stone bench upon which they sat, and when they did, Leo whispered in her ear.

"I'm sure you'd rather I was Tom, wouldn't you?"

Hermione growled from deep in her throat and pulled back, anger filling her every thought and action. She drew her hand back and released it quickly, her palm meeting with his jaw in a stinging hit. The echoing slap made those in the room look up as Hermione stood up and walked away.

Tom glared over at Leo and then went out after Hermione who was just outside the Great Hall stamping her feet in anger. She needed a way to vent and when Tom walked up and grabbed her, she almost burst upon him.

"Back o-," she began in a roar, but she stopped when she saw Tom's handsome pale face. "Oh, Tom... I'm sorry. He's making it impossible to practice."

"I know," Tom sighed. "But don't give up... that only means you're letting him win. Should you get angry again, you can always bombard him with canaries."

Hermione gave a snort of laughter as she was caught off guard by the comment. She smiled and hugged Tom with a grateful heave of breath. Tom truly had changed, and she loved it. He was funny now, sophisticated and gentlemanly, in a sense, perfect.

"Ah, Minerva, back so soon," Dumbledore greeted as he looked up from the book he was reading while sitting at the desk in Grimmauld Place.

"Here's what you requested," Minerva said as she sat the tiny silver object upon the desk.

"Very well," Dumbledore said as he grabbed his wand from his robe pocket and nodded, turning the instrument back to normal size. "Will you?" he asked as he nodded to the door.

"Good luck," Minerva said before leaving Dumbledore to pin point the exact time when he would go back to retrieve Hermione.

"Not just yet, Miss Granger... I believe a day or two more will warrant you the time needed to carry out the rest of your mission," Dumbledore whispered to himself as he stared at the silver object.

"Congratulations on a perfect practice today! Please continue to practice on your own, though," Dumbledore bellowed over the excited voices that filled the room.

The students concluded their activities and went to their common rooms to await dinner, Hermione departing and accompanying Tom to his tower. They entered the room and took a seat upon the couch, Hermione's nose stuck in her script.

"You've been reading that thing since we left the Great Hall," Tom laughed. "I should think a nine hour practice today would have been enough."

"I'm sorry," Hermione moaned as she closed the script and tossed it on the coffee table in front of her.

She exhaled loudly, her lips vibrating as the air passed out of her mouth, making 'brr' sort of sound. She leaned back on the couch and rubbed her temples as Tom stood at the window looking at the school grounds which were fading fast to darkness in the six o'clock sunset. Frost had already begun to take over the window panes and obscured part of the snow-melted grounds.

"Alice?"

"Hmm?" Hermione replied in a mumbled way as she curled her legs up on the couch beside her and stared in a studying sort of way at Tom's back.

"What will you do after we leave Hogwarts?" he questioned.

"What?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"After we leave Hogwarts this year," Tom repeated as he turned around to face her. "Where will you go?"

"I'm not real sure," Hermione answered. She hadn't ever really thought about that. What if she didn't get back to the future in enough time and had to leave Hogwarts? Would Dumbledore allow her to stay on here at Hogwarts until then?

"I mean, I know you have no parents," he paused here as though in mournful silence for her, "and I was just wondering if I would continue to see you after school."

"Tom," Hermione half laughed. "I uh-"

Hermione didn't feel right promising him that they would continue to see each other. There was the possibility that he wouldn't even see her tomorrow; she could go back to the future at any time. What was she supposed to say to him?

"I'll understand if you don't want to see me after thi-"

"No." She stood up and crossed the room to him, taking his face in her hands. "I want to see you for as long as I can. Don't you think for a minute that I don't cherish you as a friend and even more really. I just can't be certain of what will happen by then... I'm not even certain what will happen tomorrow."

"I've never been a firm believer in Divination, but we could always give that a try and see how our futures will play out," Tom weakly joked.

Hermione beamed at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him to her tightly. Tom had thought she was going to kiss him for a moment, but as she stood there hugging him, he found he much preferred that she had done this. He wanted comfort, not passion. Love, not lust. And he was certain that Alice was the one to give that to him.

"I'm hungry. How about you?" Hermione whispered as she pulled away from him.

Tom nodded and she turned to walk toward the door, but he didn't follow. He stood back as though admiring her. She shivered inwardly under his gaze. Ron had never looked upon her with such eyes. Tears pricked her eyes and her voice felt constrained, but she swallowed down the feeling and finally spoke.

"C'mon... we'll leave the future to the future and live every day as it comes. We have at least four months before we leave school... we can worry about it then. For now, let's worry about getting something to eat and then possibly the play or, more importantly, our upcoming N.E.W.T.'s," Hermione pronounced as Tom smiled halfheartedly and followed her from the room.