Magic of Love

--Dancing With Lightning

A/N: Hiya! How'd you like the first chapter? I didn't. Haha, but that's okay! If you liked it, that's all right.

I'd like to say thankyou to Reem, for reviewing. My first reviewer! Cookies and the extra dough bits for you! Thanks for your review!

Continue with your reading of the story!

Chapter 2

"I believe you're heading the wrong way. Godric's Hollow is that way."

Hermione turned, and yelled in annoyance. "Harry!" she hugged the taller boy tightly, and he smiled at Connor over her shoulder.

"Hi, there."

Connor smiled shyly. "Hi."

Hermione pulled away. "We have to go."

"Why?" Harry looked confused.

She pointed to the front of the bus. "Death Eaters, plus," she pointed down, "Wormtail, equals…"

His eyes widened. "Time to go."

Connor frowned. "What—?"

"No questions, she hissed, grabbing Harry's arm. She held firmly onto Connor with her free hand. "Don't let me go."

There was darkness, and then suddenly, light, and Connor was gasping for air. "What happened?" he asked, gasping and looking around the room.

"Boyfriend, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Gay, Harry."

"Hey! I'm not—oh. He's gay?"

"Yes. Now, where are we?"

"The Burrow. We're staying here. We didn't want to go to Godric's Hollow without you. Besides, we thought you'd get out eventually. Are you okay?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm fine. Okay, Connor. Ask away."

"What the hell is all of this, Hermione? What was that bus, where did the bus come from, anyway? How does everyone know who you are, who is 'Mr Potter', what are Death Eaters, who is Wormtail, why does it make you so nervous, and who the hell is the Minister!"

"Are you done?" Harry wanted to know.

Hermione smiled. "I'm going upstairs. Harry, can you explain everything to Connor?"

Harry nodded. "Why not? It all involves me, anyway. I'm Mr Potter, by the way. Now… what has Hermione told you? Nothing? God, this is going to take a while. You may want to sit down…"

Hermione walked into the kitchen, to be engulfed in a cloud of steam from a nearby pot. She was pulled out by two pairs of gangly, freckly arms.

"Fred? George? What are you doing here?"

"Visiting our dear, poor family," Fred said with a smile. "Hiya, Hermione. How are you?"

"She's probably tired," George said. "She should get rest."

"I want hear about her adventures with that strapping muggle boy,"

"What muggle boy?" Ginny's interested face appeared in between her brothers.

Hermione waved her hand. "No one. Well, his name is Connor, but there's nothing going on between us."

"Damn." Ginny looked disappointed. "It would have been great if there was." She waggled her eyebrows, and Hermione giggled when she heard a loud 'what' from the living room.

"He's finding out about everything," she smiled.

"About what?" Ron poked his head around Fred and George. "Hey, Hermione."

"Hello. It's just Connor, don't worry."

"Who is Connor?" Mrs Weasley asked, squeezing past her children to get into the kitchen.

"The boy that's with me, that's Connor."

"Oh, the handsome young man in the living room. Hermione, he's a handsome boy!"

"He's gay, Mrs Weasley," she smiled.

"Oh, that's good," Mrs Weasley said, giving a meaningful look at Ron. He turned red.

Hermione smirked and walked back into the living room, where Connor was sitting with his head between his knees. Harry was tentatively patting his back.

"I think I told him too fast," he said with a smile.

Hermione laughed, bending down next to Connor.

"You okay?"

"You…" he straightened, his eyes wide. Suddenly, his mouth broke into a smile. "You're a witch, Hermione! You're a real, live witch."

She smiled back and touched his shoulder. "I really, really am. Has Harry told you about Voldemort yet?"

"Very quickly," he said, looking up at Harry. "I think I understand it, though. Harry said that I'd understand more as I went along."

Harry nodded. "I figured that telling him everything would take forever, seeing as I don't know everything myself."

Connor was nodding, apparently deep in thought. "So… you explained Horcruxes to me. Do you know any of Voldemort's Horcruxes? I mean, you said they can be destroyed, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Dumbledore, you remember how I told you about Dumbledore?" Connor nodded, and Harry continued. "Right then, Dumbledore had a theory that Voldemort had seven Horcruxes."

"Why seven?" Connor wanted to know.

"The number in itself has magical properties," I explained. Connor smiled slightly at me.

"So yeah, and the theories on what they are so far have been really true."

"Well? What are they?"

"Harry," I stepped forward, "don't go into the whole story of them. Just tell him what they are."

"Well, Voldemort, being a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin—remember him? Yeah, well, he had a ring of Salazar's. That was one. Dumbledore destroyed it. There was an… um… oh, a diary that belonged to him as a teenager, that I destroyed in second year. We didn't even realise it was a Horcrux then. There…" he swallowed hard. "There's a locket. We… we don't know…" he sat down, looking lost for words. Hermione stepped in.

"Harry and Professor Dumbledore went looking for it and the end of last year, and they got it. But… it was a fake. And to get it, the Professor had to drink a potion that made him extremely weak. Harry believes that the locket finding was partly to blame in Dumbledore's death."

Connor nodded. "I understand. We can talk about the rest later."

Harry smiled slightly at Connor. "Thanks. You're taking this all pretty well."

"Well," Connor leaned back in the chair, "I'm not stupid, and I'm certainly not a person that forgets my friends. I had some sort of suspicion about what Hermione had been up to in the last six years, and I've had my suspicions confirmed. I didn't, however, think that it would be something this big."

"There's a world war happening that the world doesn't know about," Harry said quietly. "I'd love to be able to tell them all about this—tell them to run. But we know that this has to stay quiet. We know that if we're going to stop Voldemort, we have to do it subtly."

"Wizards and witches have been around for thousands of years, Harry," Hermione smiled, "and somehow I don't believe that you can destroy the secret in your lifetime."

"You'd be surprised." Harry laughed shortly, bitterly. "You'd be surprised, Hermione. The whole wizarding world found out about me in one night, one night. But… did you know that… if it hadn't have been me, it would have been someone else, and they may have died a long time ago."

Hermione knelt next to him, feeling her friend shaking. "I know, Harry. But it was you, and guess what? You haven't died, and I won't let you. I'll give my life and the life of everyone around me before I'd surrender you."

"That might just happen." Ron was standing in the doorway. "Luna just rocked up on the doorstep with, guess who?"

"Who?" Harry stood, watching his friend's face. Ron, who recently always looked frustrated, looked really annoyed. "Who is it, Ron?"

"Draco Malfoy. And guess what, also?"

"What?"

"He's mental. And when I say mental, I mean actually mental."

"As in, he's insane?" Hermione whispered.

"If the shoe fits."
Harry brushed past Ron and into the kitchen, where Luna was standing next to a chair bearing Malfoy, whose upper half was sprawled across the table. His eyes were wide open, and he stared, unseeing. Harry bent down in front of him.

"Is he okay?"

"Look at his arm." Hermione's voice was dead. Where the Dark Mark usually lay, there was only a large, sluggishly bleeding gash.

"What happened!" Connor stepped forward. But the voice who answered next was not one they expected.

"I tried to cut it out." Draco's voice was void of all emotion—he just stared blankly.

"Oh, god." Ginny stepped back, gripping Harry's arm for support. "What has Voldemort done to him?"

"Tortured him into insanity, it looks like." Mrs Weasley stepped forward. "I've looked into his mind. There's nothing there. Well, not really, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"His mind is blank, but in one corner, there's something tucked away. There's something there, and I couldn't touch it."

Tonks breezed in through the kitchen door, and Harry smirked as Connor stared at her bubblegum pink hair. She smiled at him. "This the muggle, then? Wotcher. So, Mr Malfoy is indisposed, is he? Damn. And here I thought he could help."

Malfoy sat straight, suddenly, looking at Tonks' pink hair. He burst into giggles. "Your hair is funny!" he laughed.

A tear slid down Hermione's cheek, and Connor walked over to her. "I thought you don't like this guy."

"I don't. But no-one deserves this."

Tonks nodded sympathetically. "I've called a witch to help. You've never met her before, because she's been living in America for the past three years. She's only seventeen, like you guys. She's the most powerful witch anyone has ever met."

"Voldemort? Dumbledore?" Harry looked confused. "They're the most powerful."

"No. Not when she is part Dumbledore. She's his grandchild, Harry. Her name is Diana."

"Diana Dumbledore?" Ron snickered.

"No," Tonks pulled a face at him. "She goes by Allard. Diana Allard. That way, Voldemort can never find her. Not like he did her older sister, Rose."

"What happened to her?"

"No-one knows. She hasn't been seen since before your parents died. If she was alive… she'd be… twenty-four by now."

Harry nodded. "When is she getting here?"

"Tomorrow morning."

Hermione looked at Malfoy. "Where is he staying?"

"Right here," Mrs Weasley said at once. "He's not going anywhere. As far as I'm concerned, he could have killed Dumbledore, but he didn't. That makes him a good enough sort to me."

Hermione nodded. "Do you want help taking him upstairs?"

"No, dear. Mr Weasley can help me. You and Connor need to get some rest. Luna, you'll be sleeping in with Ginny, Hermione, Harry and Connor tonight."

"All of us in one room?" Hermione was shocked.

"We've cast enlarging spells on the rooms. You'll have more than enough room."

They all filed upstairs, Harry and Connor talking animatedly.

Reaching the room, Luna opened the door and walked inside. "What a nice room."

"Indeed." Hermione looked around the room happily. Their beds fit neatly across the room. "What a nice room indeed."

She picked the bed in between Harry and Connor and went to Mrs Weasley, who was coming back down the stairs with Mr Weasley.

"Mrs Weasley… my bag. My—my clothes…"

"Not to worry, dear. Fred has just returned with the rest of your wardrobe."

Fred walked up the stairs, holding a large suitcase. "Here you are, Hermione. Just… be careful when you open it. The clothes'll… well, they'll go everywhere."

Hermione smiled. "Thankyou, Fred."

Going to a bathroom, she changed into her nightgown and walked back into the room, where they were all huddled on Hermione's bed. Luna was sitting up the front, and for once she looked alert.

"So tell us, Luna. You said before that you knew about this Diana." Ginny sat forward eagerly. "What are the stories?"

"Well, there are stories of what Diana has done in the past. They say that her spirit is many thousands of years old, and is residing in the body of a young girl. They say she's immortal, and can only be killed when she wishes it, but her spirit still roams free. There have been stories, many stories. They say she was Morgan le Fay, but others claim she was the Lady of the Lake."

"Arthur legends…" Connor breathed. "Were they true, then?"

"Some," Hermione admitted. "There was a real Merlin."

"Really!" Connor looked excited. "That's incredible."

"And Dragons," Harry put in, "Real. Werewolves, Vampires, real."

"Can Luna finish the story?" Ginny asked impatiently. Hermione nodded.

"All right. We'll be quiet now."

"Diana Allard is the most powerful witch that has ever roamed these lands. But, they say her current form restricts her somehow, and she is unable to perform the advanced magicks she always used to be able to perform."

"So you're saying that she's really not that powerful."

"She is. When she must be. They say that when the time is right, and when she is truly needed, she will be free of her mortal skin, and save the earth once more."

Hermione nodded. "That sounds quite…"

"Cool," Ginny finished, "but seriously, her proper name couldn't be Diana, could it?"

"Hm," Hermione mused, "I suppose it would be something timeless, like Guinevere, or Morgan le Fay, or perhaps even Galadriel…"

"That's Lord of the Rings," Connor rolled his eyes. "Her name wouldn't be something from Lord of the Rings."

"It was just an example…"

Harry smiled as the two friends started to bicker. "I'm going to bed," he announced, and looked at Hermione and Connor. "Get some rest. I'm serious. Tomorrow's going to be a big day."

Hermione nodded, and as everyone climbed off her bed, she slid under the covers, sighing contentedly when her head touched the pillow. She didn't even remember hearing Harry say good night.

Hermione woke up with a start sometime later, and she groped in the darkness for her watch and wand. "Lumos!" she whispered, lighting the tip and looking at her watch. It was two o'clock in the morning, and Hermione began to wonder what on earth had woken her up.

She heard another small thump from upstairs, and a whimper. Silently, she climbed out of bed, creeping up the stairs, to a door she didn't remember being there before. Taking a deep breath, she walked into a room that was empty, save a bed and a shaking figure in one corner.

"Malfoy? Are you all right?"

"They… they touched me. Their hands were everywhere. Their cold… cold blue hands…"

Hermione didn't make a sound, but listened to everything Malfoy said.

"They took it away from me. The speck. The bright light. They took it."

"What did they take?" Hermione took a step forward.

"They took my light. The light that I needed. They were selfish. Wanted it for their own. But I said no. I said I wanted the speck back."

"What was the speck?" Hermione murmured, but Malfoy was continuing, unaware of Hermione's question.

"They grabbed me. Put me in a dark container. I couldn't see, couldn't hear… they were touching me with their cold, blue hands…"

And he ceased to make sense, murmuring over and over, 'cold, blue hands… cold blue hands…'

Hermione backed out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

She trotted downstairs, and got back into bed. She didn't fall asleep again.