Hermione awoke in darkness, but it had a hardness to it, a firm reality that you never notice is missing in dreams until you wake up again. She coughed, as coldness seeped out of her lungs and was replaced with the moist air of the cave. She stood up slowly, dizzy and disoriented. Darkness was all around her, in blackened clouds that ebbed and flowed at her feet like liquid. She was sitting on the cave floor, but the ache in her limbs told her she had probably landed there after falling from somewhere quite a bit higher up.

She looked around, her stomach sick with sudden alarm. Where was Malfoy? Had he been…well, actually--she had no idea what the boggarts would do to him. According to popular theory, a single boggart that has properly subdued a victim moves on to feed on their fear until the victim is completely drained of energy and feeling. Cases that extreme were rare, but it did beg the question as to what thousands of boggarts would do, and if she had to guess--she decided it would probably be quite fatal.

"Draco?" she called. She took a tentative step forward. She marveled as the cloud parted, allowing her to pass through along an empty stone floor. She couldn't see him, everything was obscured by dark clouds and glittering eyes. "Draco, can you hear me? Where are you?"

No answer. Her voice echoed uselessly around the cave. She cursed silently. What now? She had no idea what spells to use. In fact, her instinct told her it would probably be best to get out of this cave as soon as possible. She continued to wade around in the heavy, dark fog.

Finally, her eyes settled on a flash of silver in the corner. There was a cluster of the wretched little creatures, pulsing and piling on top of each other. She lit her wand and moved closer. In the silent rustle of dark, cloudy bodies, she heard someone gasping. She whipped out her wand.

"Perfringo!" she cried. The cloud shook and separated for the most fleeting of seconds, but it was long enough for Hermione to catch sight of Draco's pale, terrified face. His eyes were screwed shut and he was flailing around in the darkness in terrified spasms, a terrified expression on his face. The darkness seeped back into its former place, concealing him from view.

Hermione frowned. Only one option struck her. It was not a pleasant one. She shivered as she remembered the nightmare she had just broken free of, and she did not relish another. But she gripped her wand in her outstretched hand and uttered the spell anyway.

"Librum Memoria!" she cried, aiming at the spot she knew Malfoy to be. She was rushing though a dark, whirling tunnel. She realized she had no one to guide her through it.

"Draco!" she screamed. "Can you hear me? Where are you?"

Her feet slammed on solid ground. Or at least--what could be called solid in the strange, ethereal world of thoughts and memories. She looked around. She was in Diagon Alley--though, like in her vision, everything was dead and deserted. The streets were littered with the bodies of the fallen. Even the air seemed thick with fire and destruction.

A dark figure in a cloak turned towards Narcissa Malfoy. Emotionlessly, he raised his wand--and killed her. She fell to the ground. Hermione gasped in horror.

Narcissa Malfoy rushed forward. The hooded figure raised his wand. She fell to the ground again. And again. And again. Hermione watched the scene repeat itself over and over again in an unbreakable, recursive loop. One moment of perfect agony. Hermione turned around and saw something she hadn't noticed before. There was another figure huddled on the ground, watching the scene play over and over and shaking with terror. Hermione raced over to him.

"Draco," she said gently. He wasn't looking at her. He was staring fixedly at the scene in front of him with wide, terrified eyes. "Draco, look at me," she pleaded. She knelt down beside him and grasped his hand. "Please...we need to get out of here..."

"No..." he finally tore his eyes away from the scene and looked at her. "I'm always here..."

"This isn't real," she said insistently. "You have to get out."

"It is real," he whispered.

"It's not," she countered. "Please believe me...it's an illusion. It's just your fear. It's not real."

"No..." He looked at the hooded figure. "You don't understand. It's real...it's real, I can't leave...because I'll always be here...it's me..."

Hermione wasn't sure what he was talking about, but she was sure she didn't care. They had to get out of here. Now. She raised her wand.

"Occludo Mentis!" Nothing happened. Hermione looked back at Draco. He was still gazing fixedly at the figure, muttering in terror.

"Draco, look at me," she said, more harshly this time. "Please..." Her features softened. "Please, I can't do this by myself." She gazed seriously into his eyes. "You have to help me. You have to want to leave." He finally looked at her, but didn't speak.

"Do you want to leave?" He nodded slowly. "Take my hand." He extended his hand and she grasped it gently, repeating the spell. She felt a sudden jolt, and she was suddenly back in the boggart infested cave.

Hermione was standing, and Draco was on the ground next to her. She was still holding his hand, which she quickly let go of, feeling uncertain and seeing the potential for more awkwardness. He didn't seem to notice. She looked at him. He was still huddled on the ground. Hermione felt a pang.

God, she thought, he looked so--broken. All the swaggering and smirking she was used to seeing from him seemed like they had come from a different person now. NO! Don't let him fool you—he's still a jerk. A big, pathetic jerk in a pathetic heap on the ground…oh, dammit…

"Malfoy," she began. "Draco..." He looked at her with tear stained eyes, and then quickly looked away, facing the wall.

"Are you happy now? You are, aren't you? Everyone wants to see me dragged in the dirt…get away from me, Granger," he said in a strangled voice, burying his face in his hands. He was doing something to his arm that she couldn't see...

Hermione felt her throat constrict. She was in a freezing cave, now trying to work through an extremely traumatizing boggart attack, and trying to find a piece of the soul of the darkest wizard in the world. Oh, yes, she was happy. She was bloody ecstatic. "No, I am not happy," she said curtly.

"I'm...I'm a monster..." he replied, gritting his teeth. He sounded distant. "He said it was perfect. He lied….everyone lied to me all along… 'This is your birth right, my son,' my son…mine. Forever."

"No you're not a monster, stop being so dramatic..." she protested softly. She knelt down next to him. Oh, Lord—he's gone completely crackers, hasn't he? I suppose it had to happen sometime…

"I am," he said. "I tried to deny it, I tried, I got lost, I don't even know what I want...I thought I could have it both ways but I can't...it's blood, it runs in your blood and there's not escaping your destiny..." He ran his hands through his hair, gripping handfuls of blond as he went.

"Destiny?" she said dismissively. "What is it with wizards and destiny? Destiny is just a silly excuse for people who don't know what to do with their lives," she argued. Her practical protests sounded strangely out of place, given the situation.

Malfoy shrugged. No protests, no attitude, no snarky remarks. He just sat there, looking empty and lost. He was...a mess. He was still scratching at his forearm.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, her voice somewhat sharp. She pulled his sleeve away to get a better look at his arm and gasped. There was a series of long scratches over the Dark Mark on his arm, as if he had been trying, quite ineffectively, to remove it. "Stop that," she said in alarm. He didn't seem to be listening.

"Can't go both ways," he muttered. Hermione wondered if she had done more harm than good forcibly pulling him out of his nightmare. He seemed quite confused. "It's there or it isn't, and if you're marked, you have something to live up to..."

"Stop!" she repeated shrilly, grabbing his arm.

He pulled away violently. "Get off me Granger!" he yelled angrily. "I'm going to get rid of it! You can't stop me! Leave me alone!"

"No," she said, her voice shaking. "You have to stop that! You're--you're hurting yourself..."

"It hurts worse having it on there," he said wildly. "I can't! I can't stand to look at it for another second! Fucking thing! I HATE—" A spasm of fear flickered across his face. "No, no, no, no, once it's gone..." He looked desperate. "You don't understand—they told me it would be easy... 'Just like riding a broomstick…hahaha…' …I have to get rid of it!" He struggled against Hermione's grasp for a moment, finally throwing her off in a show of strength that caught her somewhat off guard. She landed on her butt, hard, falling against the wall. Ouch.

"Stop it. RIGHT NOW." She imagined her voice came out a little more harshly than she intended, in light of her now very sore arse. To her surprise, he actually listened.

"Look—Draco..." She snatched up his arm and laid it down gently on his leg, but kept it pinned there with her own hand. "It doesn't have to mean what you think...it's—" She brushed her fingertips softly against his somewhat mangled forearm and winced despite herself. "It's just a scar."

"What the hell would you know about it?" he began, his voice harsh, but cracking slightly. Hermione stretched down the collar of her t-shirt to reveal an area of skin near her heart, a few inches below her collarbone. There was a faint series of circular marks, like an ancient, healed burn.

"It's a scar...see? I was in the Department of Mysteries last year, and I was fighting, and I got hurt. But I healed. It's a scar. It's there because—you're fighting."

Draco looked at the ground. "Against you..." he muttered sourly.

"Oh, come on…There's more to you than that mark on your arm," she told him. What was she saying? Did she really, honestly believe all this, or was she just trying to help him? Did she even know herself?

He hung his head again. "I think—I think I'm going mad...I mean—" He clenched his hands in to fists and put them over his face. "For awhile, all I had was hate, and I thought I could live with that. Because it was easy, and simple, and familiar, and…oh, bloody hell... And now—I can't even hate you properly anymore. And—fuck—I'm terrified all the time. I feel like I'm going to die every second of every day, and then—and then—it changed when I—he offered me freedom and I just stood there—he offered HER freedom, and I—I... Maybe I'm dead, already, I just haven't noticed yet... Big damn difference there is…"

He wiped off his face with the corner of his sleeve and swore quietly. She had never seen him genuinely in pain before—not really. She had watched him snivel and whine quite a few times to emphasize the onset of minor injuries, but now it seemed he was really, truly miserable, and it was etched all over his face. At that moment, Hermione realized, he didn't really look like a spoiled child anymore. To her, he was suddenly more… human. If he was this messed up in the head…then—he hid it surprisingly well. How could someone be this torn apart inside and still walk around like everything was normal, still throwing around insults and spells and snide remarks?

"Come on," she said, pulling him up to a standing position. She was feeling quite uncomfortable from his outpouring of emotion. In all the years she had known him—she felt guilty. He was still a person wasn't he? A bigoted, sniveling, miserable, attractive snob of a person… "We should keep moving."

He nodded numbly and followed her as she walked. The boggart swarms parted like the Red Seas as she passed through them, Draco in her wake. The farther they got from the cave, the more like his old self he seemed to become. He looked a lot calmer, perhaps even a bit more confident. At least he had stopped shaking. Had her words actually helped him? Did he actually care about what she had to say?

"Draco..." she bit her lip. Curiosity was gnawing at her. "Who was that hooded figure?"

He laughed bitterly but didn't speak.

"It was an illusion, you know that," she said gently. He looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets. She sighed. "You don't think so, do you?"

He looked frustrated. "How can I?" he demanded venomously. "I just...I've worked my whole life for..." He looked at his mangled forearm. "--this. And now I have it, and..." He clenched his fist, causing more blood to ooze from his arm. "It's here. It's real. I don't like being this way. Nothing makes sense anymore. And I'm...trapped."

"You're not," she said, shaking her head. "You always have a choice."

"That's easy for you to say," he said with bitterness in his voice. They passed out of the cave and paused within the next passage.

"Don't get hostile," she said smoothly. "It's a poor defense. And..." She wasn't exactly sure what was wrong, but she had an idea. "Look, Draco--I know that Harry and Ron and I aren't really a good example of this, but--you don't always have to turn into your parents. I mean--" She held up the diary. "Look at Regulus and Sirius..." She grasped his hands. "Maybe...you have a different path ahead of you. I think so…"

He laughed hollowly. "I thought you didn't believe in destiny."

"I don't," she responded. "But I do believe in people. It's never, ever too late to change."

"You really believe that?" he asked, sneering, but there was a hint of wanting in his eyes. "You think that people can actually change? How?" The look on his face stunned her, but she hid it. Was he looking to her for reassurance, for... a way out?

"They change because they want to," she said emphatically. She looked squarely into his silver eyes. "You have to make a choice." Malfoy stared at her seriously, no longer moving forward, looking pensive. She turned and continued slowly on without him, giving him some time alone with his thoughts.

Centuries of deeply ingrained prejudice didn't really excuse his actions for the past six years, but...did he really want to change? He had a lot to deal with--maybe even as much as Harry, only his problems were more within himself than without. He was struggling internally with something just as heavy and dark and all consuming as anything, and that fact that he was at least trying to fight it--to find his own way despite pressures to the contrary--meant everything. She didn't quite understand it, but she really didn't like to see him suffer this way, former Death Eater or not.

And she lied. Lied to him. She hated lying. She was just trying to make him feel better, because it was what he needed to hear. She wanted to believe people could change. She did believe it--but the realist in her told her that sometimes they couldn't--not totally. Some people would always, no matter how much they tried, retain something inescapable within themselves.

Hermione was always very intuitive--she could practically tell what people were thinking before they could. Malfoy's motivations, however, had eluded her lately. Now she could see it all, realization crashing down upon her like a tidal wave. There it was, glaring her right in the face, wretchedly obvious after all this time. She didn't know why, but it had hit her very strongly the last time she had looked him in the eye. There was something...there. Mostly when she looked in people's eyes she saw--well--eyes. Pupils and retinas. Nothing romantic or interesting in the least.

But now...she felt like she could see right through him, right past that liquid silver into the howling void inside him, dark, ice cold and screaming silently. It was quite a lot to ask of her--even if he wasn't doing it intentionally--she wasn't sure she was capable of being responsible for his soul. To be honest--it terrified her. Terrified her because it was dark and empty and ran much, much more deep then she had ever suspected. She had always seen a pretentious, spoiled child when she looked at him. Nothing but a loudmouthed bully. But now she saw something darker, something frightening. And she worried that if she stayed close to him--she would be sucked right into that cold void inside him as well.

She suppressed a shiver, because somewhere in the back of her mind--she had to wonder if it was too late to escape...for both of them.

000

He caught up to her. "Thank you for that..." he said in a hoarse voice. "Back there. I guess...I owe you one again." He narrowed his eyes. "But--don't think this changes anything between us, Granger," he added in a quick, harsh tone.

"Anything between us?" she asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow. "What exactly is there between us, Malfoy?"

"Nothing," he said immediately, cursing inwardly. She sighed exasperatedly. "And don't think there ever will be! I still hate you!"

"Hmm..." she said in an extremely unconcerned voice. She sounded unconvinced.

Damn her! Did she think she knew him now? Damn her! Damn her for being in his life, and damn her for being in his head! Damn her for seeing him when he was crying like a goddamn child! Damn her! Damn her for being unconcerned! Damn her for telling him off! Damn her for not being afraid of him!

"Well, you don't have to owe me anything," she said dismissively. "I did it because...it was the right thing to do."

Damn her stupid sense of self-righteousness! Damn her for saving his goddamn life when she could have just let him die on her stupid front yard! He could have been spared all this goddamn misery and confusion! Damn her for saving his goddamn life again! Damn her for making it so he couldn't just hate her like the filthy Mudblood she was! Damn her for being her! What couldn't he hate her? Hate was one thing he was particularly talented with. She was driving him crazy!

He shrugged. "Well--I do anyway. I said I'd protect you." He shoved his hands in his pockets again. "Fine ruddy job, I did of that one, too..." he grumbled. Great job, Draco. Way to be worthless. How does it feel to be saved by that goddamn--Mudblood--again? Centuries of family honor, down the bloody drain...

And...the truth was...he lied to her. He was the monster. It wasn't just an illusion. He had done more, sunk deeper, done worse things than she probably suspected. No matter how smart she was, there was an innocence about her--she didn't really know him yet. She couldn't. He had grown up in a world that was far more dark and complex than the world Draco had seen in the Granger's living room. Her world.

His world was full of pain, and power, and the Dark Arts his father had taught him since he was old enough to hold a wand. And he had liked it. It was fascinating to him; it always had been. He practically had a special talent for it. His family had been breeding him, quite literally, for this life for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. He liked controlling people. Manipulating them. He liked watching them get hurt. He actually enjoyed it. How could she possibly understand that? How could she possibly understand him? The last few minutes had been a dark blur. He couldn't remember the details exactly--expect that he had been trapped in some kind of intense nightmare and she had pulled him out. The nightmare he remembered, quite vividly--but everything else...he remembered seeing her, helping him, talking to him, trying to pull him back from the brink he was teetering on...and why? He wasn't sure what exactly he had said to her--probably something he shouldn't have. Why did she have to do that? He wished things could be the way there were before, simpler, more divided into her kind and his kind, with no exceptions, and no--guilt.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I told you before--I don't need you to protect me--"

"Yeah, I know, Granger," he said, his mouth twisting into a small grin that looked suspiciously like a smirk, a little bit of his usual personality showing through the melancholy air surrounding him. "You only need me to save your arse some of the time."

"I'll have you know I had that situation completely under control," she countered playfully, raising her chin in mock defiance.

"Oh, right," he said skeptically, sneering at her, but without malice. He was actually enjoying himself a little bit. This felt more normal. For the first time in the past few hellish hours, he started to feel more comfortable, and less like he was on the verge of falling apart. "Were you going to win that fight before or after you got flattened by several tons of stone wall?"

"I was going to wait 'till I was flattened, lie in wait for a few hours, then spring up and finish him off," she explained in mock sincerity. "The element of surprise is everything."

"Maybe several tons of masonry falling on your head might be a good thing," he said innocently. "Could be the only force on this earth powerful enough to make your hair lie flat."

She glared at him, looking slightly outraged for a moment, but quickly cooling off. "Nothing is that powerful," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "But maybe you could lend me some of your hair gel. You seem to be wearing enough on your head everyday to coat the entire kingdom of Britain several times over."

He smiled in a self-satisfied way. Oh, yes, definitely back to normal. But what was normal for them, anyway? Her slapping him across the face? Him saying deliberately hurtful things to her?

"Maybe if you ask nicely," was his smooth reply.

000

Hermione inhaled slowly as the reached the end of the tunnel, stopping in front of the entranceway before them. This is it, she thought to herself, trying to calm her frazzled nerves.

"Is this the end?" asked Malfoy, looking around in confusion. Hermione could understand his puzzlement, they were standing in front of a solid wall. It was covered with an arch-like pattern of strange symbols and designs, but nevertheless--it was completely solid.

"Yes," she said, inching closer to the wall, but still to uneasy to touch it.

"Um...right then," he said, crossing his arms. "How do you propose we get through it?"

Hermione glanced at the wall apprehensively. "We--eh--jump," she offered.

"I see," he said, looking at the wall with a raised eyebrow. "And what's the point of this lovely little task?"

The point? Well..."According to Regulus, it's the final door...it's supposed to take us right into the tomb. I believe it's meant to be a sort of a test of will--you have to believe you can go through, or you'll crash right into it."

"That doesn't sound too horrible," he said, seeming pleasantly surprised.

"It's not..." she said. It was fairly easy. How many times had she passed through the barrier to Platform 9 and 3/4's? "I suppose it's meant to assure that anyone who comes here, even Muggles, would have at least a cursory familiarity--or understanding of magic. I suppose she didn't want just anyone wandering in here, no matter how clever they were..." she said, thinking aloud.

She threw a sideways glance at Malfoy, who was smirking. "Don't say it," she warned him.

"I didn't say anything," he protested, the smarmy grin still adorning his pale features.

"No, but you were going to," she assured him, turning away. He was still grinning.

"OK..." she backed away from the wall and faced it squarely, balling her hands into fists. "Ready..." she said under her breath. "One...Two..." Malfoy stepped up next to her, grabbing her arm gently just above the elbow.

"Three," he finished. They both ran at the wall and jumped. Hermione felt a slight pressure on her skin as they passed through, then she felt herself tumbling onto a cold stone floor.

They were in a beautiful room with a high, vaulted ceiling. Though the room wasn't huge, Hermione had to crane her neck to see all the way up to the top. There was a cluster of softly glowing spheres of light, bobbing gently in the air where the ceiling reached it's highest, conical point, which filled the entire room with a warm, white light. The floor was marble and as reflective as glass--it looked like the serene surface of lake in the winter, icy, deep, and black as midnight. Hermione could see her own face staring back at her from the opposite angle, bright eyes glaring out determinedly from an uncharacteristically pale face.

Her eyes fell on the monument in the center of the room. It was a large tomb. Hermione climbed to her feet and approached it slowly. It was constructed out of the same smoothly shining material as the floor, though the edges were decorated with stone flowers, beautifully carved, heavy white petals that shimmer opalescently in the soft light.

In front of it was a ledge, elevated like a pedestal, and sitting on the ledge--Hermione's breath caught in her throat--was a bronze chalice, inlaid with smooth blue stones.

"Is that it?" asked Draco lazily in his usual drawling voice.

"Yes," said Hermione, barely able to contain her excitement. Ravenclaw's chalice. A fascinating object, tainted by Voldemort or not. The chalice had been around for over a thousand years. Ravenclaw's interest in alchemy had led her to research in the Principles of Exodus--that is--creating a Philosopher's stone. The chalice was the fruit of a lifetime of labor. Though not the key to actual eternal life, the chalice had the power to restore youth. The only stipulation was the chalice's magic couldn't work more than once on the same person. However, Hermione thought to herself, it was still an amazing device. The existence of the chalice had actually created the first rumors, and later the widespread Muggle legend of the "Holy Grail." Regulus had included some of this information in his diary, and some Hermione had gathered on his own. It was all rather...fascinating.

"Can we just, you know," he said shrugging. "Go get it?"

"Yes," said Hermione again. "We should be able to simply pick it up and leave, no more obstacles."

"About bloody time," said Malfoy. He strode boldly forward, extending his arm toward the chalice, but he stopped suddenly, his face confused. "Ahh..." he muttered, gripping his forearm.

"What is it?" asked Hermione, rushing forward in alarm.

"Nothing," said Malfoy, his brow furrowed. "It's just--ow..." He cursed under his breath, pushing back his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark on his arm. "It doesn't--I mean--it's burned a few times, since I left--it always does--but..." He shook his head. He extended his hand forward again, apparently deciding to ignore the pain.

Hermione gasped. The mark was burning--actually burning, with a curl of smoke rising from it. It glowed red. Draco inhaled sharply.

"What the hell--" he began, but he didn't have time to finish. The tomb emitted a sudden, sphere-like aura of light. There was a cracking sound, and Malfoy was hurled backwards through the wall of the tomb, disappearing through the wall with a yelp.

There was a faint rumbling from within the room Hermione was standing in. The tomb glowed again. Determined, Hermione lunged forwards and snatched the cup into her hands. The rumbling stopped. Another apparition appeared, floating above the tomb. It was a woman, pale and transparent, as though made out of colored smoke. She was wearing a deep blue dress, and had bright blue eyes and flowing, jet black hair.

"Merlin's ghost," exclaimed Hermione under her breath, startled.

The woman turned her gaze down towards her, cocking her head and looking perplexed. "No," she said regally. "Not quite..."

000

Draco landed upside down outside the tomb, still cursing wildly. He scrambled to his feet and threw himself, shoulder first, back into the entrance to the central tomb. It was probably good that he ran at it shoulder first, because his shoulder collided painfully with the wall, and he found himself sprawled on the ground once again.

"Bloody--fucking--" he grumbling, standing up and holding his throbbing shoulder. He was now officially stuck.

"Dammit, Hermione," he said angrily, kicking the wall helplessly. What now?

000

"You're--not a ghost--" said Hermione slowly, staring at the apparition.

"No, I'm not," said the woman. "Not really. Neither soul nor spirit, but enough memory and feeling and magic to watch for all eternity." She stared at Hermione through narrowed eyes. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"My name is Hermione Granger," she said, trying to appear calm.

"What brings you to this place? Are you the one who defiled my chalice?" She pointed accusingly at the cup in Hermione's hands.

"No!" said Hermione quickly. "No, I would never..."

"Then what brings you to this place?" she asked, still looking suspicious. "What do you want with my chalice? Youth? I sincerely doubt you need it. A sick mother, perhaps? Grandmother?"

"No..." said Hermione. "I'm actually--" She sucked in a breath. "I'm here to take it and destroy it."

"Destroy it?" said the woman incredulously. She looked angry. The walls trembled again.

"I'm sorry," apologized Hermione. Probably should have kept her mouth shut...she did have that problem occasionally. "I'm a student at Hogwarts!" she blurted out.

The rumbling stopped. "Are you?" she asked, brightening in curiosity. "Which house?"

"I'm in Gryffindor..." said Hermione.

"Oh," said the woman, looking disappointed.

"I was almost in Ravenclaw," divulged Hermione. "But I opted for Gryffindor instead...the Hat seemed quite insistent, but I made up my mind."

"You must be quite bright, to make it this far," said the woman. "There's a bit of me in that Hat, did you know that? But...I suppose if you made up your mind...there's really no going back, is there?"

"Er...no..." said Hermione. This conversation seemed rather pointless. Maybe she should make a lunge for the door--but on the other hand...this--spirit, thing, whatever it was seemed to be controlling the cave. "Why did you throw my--er--friend out of the cave?" she asked.

"Friend?" said the woman in disgust. "He bore the mark of a serpent--a cursed mark of a serpent. Full of Dark Magic. I don't tolerate certain things...especially after the first one came in here...he returned with my chalice defiled..."

Regulus...though Hermione. "There's...a very Dark Wizard in our era," began Hermione. It was so complicated. It sounded odd boiled down into this form. "He's been trying to cleanse the world of Muggleborns and Muggles...we've been fighting him for a long time...years. He's Slytherin's heir..." The woman's eyes flashed at the mention of that name. "He's a bit...obsessed with Hogwarts, so he when he made his Horcruxes, he used things from the founders...Slytherin's locket...your chalice..."

"Horcrux--es?" she said in alarm. "As in more than one division of the soul? That's..."

"He's terrible. I'm sorry I had to disturb your rest," said Hermione again. The woman shook her head.

"Do not apologize for such a justified action."

"Oh...OK..." she said, not quite sure how to respond. "Thank you--er--Lady Ravenclaw."

The woman nodded regally. "It takes great courage, as well as cleverness for a witch to fight," she said. "Godric always told me that."

"Erm...Lady Ravenclaw..." Hermione bit her lip...she shouldn't ask, should she? Maybe it was just a crazy dream...still... "Are you Muggleborn?"

She looked shocked. "I--"

"I'm sorry," said Hermione quickly.

"I never told anyone..." she said slowly. "Only one man..."

"I was just curious," said Hermione. "Because--well--I am too..."

Ravenclaw smiled at her. "Curiosity is a virtue, but it can sometimes be a curse."

"Tell me about it," said Hermione, smiling nervously.

"Have I been exposed in the future?" she asked. "How did you know?"

"I...uh...I saw it in a dream," said Hermione, going slightly pink. "While I was in here...I mean--usually I think that stuff is absolute drivel, but I feel very...connected to this place...so..."

"Well," said Ravenclaw gently. "Perhaps you are. I have stored much of my memory, thought, and feeling in this place. Magic is a very curious force. There is much even the most learned do not yet understand of its mysteries."

Hermione nodded. "And the chalice...?" she asked softly, holding it aloft in her hands. It glittered dully in the soft light.

"You have done what is necessary. Destroy it...You have my blessing."

"Thank you," said Hermione. "I appreciate your help, but I really must hurry...my friends are waiting for me."

"Then good luck, Hermione Granger," said Ravenclaw. "Go. The way is open for you." She pointed to the door.

With another final backwards glance, Hermione closed her eyes and leapt through the wall.

000

Draco slammed his fist against the wall for a third time. Suddenly there was a dull, scraping sound next to him. A hole opened up in the sloping wall next to him. It quickly formed into a long stone staircase, sloping up into the wall above him and disappearing. Then he saw it--sunlight! A gorgeous, golden shaft of it cascading down the newly formed tunnel and pooling at Draco's feet. Finally! Freedom from this accursed hellhole! He looked around. Dammit! Now he just had to find--

Someone flew through the wall in front of him, knocking him to the ground. They tumbled a few feet across the dirt floor of the cave, a tangle of limbs and hysterical shouts. Draco struggled free and leapt to his feet.

"GRANGER!" he yelled. "Bloody hell, woman!"

Hermione laughed at him, rolling over so she could climb back onto her feet. Draco gave her a hand.

"I found a way out," he said importantly.

"How very clever of you," she said in a saccharine voice. "Look what I found." She held up the chalice. Draco smiled.

The Horcrux. The key to the Dark Lord's downfall. That bastard was going to pay for his mother's death.

Hermione walked towards the newly formed stairs. "Let's get out of here, shall we?"

Draco nodded and followed her as she headed into the promise of sunlight.

000

AN: Whew! Sorry it took so long to update. I kept messing around with this chapter. It was never quite the way I wanted it. I think I got it pretty close to how I wanted it, so all's well. Hope you all liked it!

Ok, yes, you were all right. I don't know where I got the idea for the billions'o'boggarts--wait actually I do--I was at work and I was really bored for 5 hours so I stared off into space and wrote fanfiction in my head. The tons of boggarts don't take the form of whatever frightens you the most, they suck you up and launch you into this uber-involved realistic nightmare in which all your worst fears are realized in a realistic way and it is of course--terrifying! (spooky music plays)

Ursh: Yeah, I totally overdue it with the British slang...but what can I say? I'm an American fanfic author, lol. And the molar thing...sorry. I thought the alliteration sounded funny together. Also, I have no idea where Florence is in Italy. I'm a very lazy person. But thank you for the info.

foxeran: (and everybody else who mentioned this) Yes, I'm sorry. I had to separate the trio for a few chapters. It's DMHG! What am I supposed to do? Hehehe...

Tristana: OMG, my microsoft word expired and I had to type in WORDPAD! Oh, the evils of wordpad...mostly the problem is it has NO spellcheck. I need spellcheck! (calms down) So sorry about any errors.

renyun: I totally fixed that error when I saw your review. Damn wordpad! Thanks though...

Another note: Ravenclaw is dead. She has NO Horcruxes. The ghost was just a compilation of leftover thought and memory that she left to animate the cave.