Disclaimer: All hail Jo Rowling for giving us Harry and his world.

Come What May

Chapter Seven

Hermione awoke abruptly early the next morning, breathing heavily. She had been dreaming that she was asleep, much like she just was, and Malfoy randomly came into her room. He had sat down at the edge of her bed and began stroking her hair away from her face while she slept. No harm done, right? Wrong. As she began to wake from her sleep in her dream, Malfoy suddenly morphed into Lucius Malfoy, and with one quick movement, had gone from stroking her hair away from her face to bringing both of his hands to her throat, and he began to throttle her. She thrashed around, trying to get away from him, but the lack of oxygen began to weaken her, and she gave up fighting as she felt herself slowly losing consciousness.

The words Lucius hissed as he was strangling her still coursed through her head. "Die, Mudblood, die!"

She sat up in bed, shaking her head to rid herself of the images her mind had just showed her and rubbed her eyes before looking at her alarm clock. It was a little after five.

She got up and went over to her wardrobe, pulling out some clean underthings before heading into the bathroom, with the pretense of getting a hot shower in before heading down to breakfast.

Twenty minutes later, she walked out of the shower and over to the sink with a towel wrapped firmly around her. She raised a hand to the mirror and wiped away some of the condensation that fogged the mirror. Dark circles framed her eyes underneath, and she looked pale. Her hair, still damp from her shower, hung down in wet ringlets past her shoulders.

With a sigh, she picked up her toothbrush (red, to match Gryffindor, of course!) and commenced to brush her teeth. She was just starting to comb out her hair when the door from Malfoy's room opened and he walked in, carrying his own necessities. He stopped short when he saw her standing before the mirror, still with only the towel on. That insufferable smirk played around his lips as he gave her the once over again.

"Do you mind?" she asked him, annoyed that he was standing there ogling at her and annoyed that a slight blush began to creep up her face.

"No, not at all. I'm just admiring the view," he said, walking over to the sink and setting down his things, one of which was a sharp and lethal looking razor.

"I'm not done in here. When I'm done, you can have the bathroom. Until then, get out!"

"Ah, see that's the difference between you and me. See, I have no problem sharing a bathroom with someone. I'm not shy about my, ahem, assets. I'm perfectly fine with you being in here. I was just going to step into the shower for a few minutes. So, if you don't mind, I'll get on with my business, and you can get on with yours."

To her very great surprise (and pleasure?) Malfoy stripped off his t-shirt and pulled off his pajama pants, and stepped around her towards the shower, in nothing but his boxers. She was pretty sure she didn't imagine it, but she thought she saw him give her a suggestive wink as he strutted over to the shower walls.

Once he vanished behind the walls of the shower, it took several minutes for Hermione to get her mind back on track. Since he was practically in front of her when he stripped off his t-shirt, she got a damn good look at his physique. He had a six pack that could make you fall over, not to mention that he wore his boxers very low on his hips, and he had that damn sexy leg segmentation or whatever the hell it was that guys had that could make you swoon.

"Goddamn you, Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth as she realized that she had been absently trying to comb thin air for the past minute.

Once her hair had been (finally!) combed, she walked back into her room and all but slammed the door behind her. Walking over to her wardrobe again, she pulled out her favorite denim mini skirt and her favorite lilac cami. She pulled them on and dug through her other shirts until she found her other favorite lilac and turquoise striped blouse, both shirts, of course, were far from loose fitting.

Looking in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door and finding her appearance satisfying, she picked up her makeup bag from the shelf above the clothes rack and proceeded back into the bathroom, without knocking.

She found Malfoy standing in front of his sink with nothing but towel wrapped around his middle, shaving with that lethal looking razor. She paused for a second at the door, but, deciding that if he could barge in on her, she could barge in on him. She walked calmly over to the counter and set down her bag without a glance at Malfoy. She could try as hard as she could to not look at him and his shirtless torso. She could try very, very hard indeed.

She again wiped off a clear spot on the mirror and opened her bag. For a few seconds she rummaged around inside it, looking for her eyeliner and her violet eyeshadow. Finally finding what she was looking for, she leaned in towards the mirror and proceeded to first apply some cover up to her face and then the eyeliner. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Malfoy sneaking covert looks at her, as though she couldn't notice.

"Like what you see, Malfoy?" she asked bluntly the fifth time this happened.

He gave a little jump and went back to his shaving.

She gave a satisfied smirk and went back to her eyeshadow. She traced a small line underneath her eyeliner and applied a small amount to her upper eyelid. She then applied her mascara, and finally, a hint of blush to add a bit of color to her pale face. Once she was sure she was finished, she stepped back and looked at herself carefully, making sure everything was in place. She pulled her wand out of her waistband and curled her hair around it, making it fall in loose waves around her shoulders. She pulled out another head band and stuck it in place, winding some of the curls down around her face. Satisfied with her appearance, she picked up her makeup and stuck it underneath the sink in one of the cabinets.

She walked back towards her room, intent on grabbing some robes to throw on before joining Harry and Ron downstairs for breakfast. Just before she got to the door, Malfoy called out to her.

"I'd be careful with those clothes if I were you, Granger. Some people might get the wrong idea about you, if you know what I mean."

She ignored him and continued into her bedroom, again slamming the door behind her.

Ten minutes later, she sat down next to Harry and Ron and pulled some bacon towards her.

"Good morning to you too," Ron said, noticing the glare on her face as she angrily bit down on some bacon.

"I loathe Malfoy," she said bitterly.

"What'd he do?" Harry asked quickly, his temper rising without knowing what the problem was.

"Oh, he's just being his usual charming self."

"And by that you mean. . .?" Ron asked.

"Put it this way, you know how I've sort of changed my wardrobe?"

The two boys nodded.

"Let's just say he was making. . .allusions towards my choice in clothing and how people might get the wrong idea about me."

Both of them sat there stupidly, attempting to figure out what she meant.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, you idiots! She's talking about how people might think she's willing to jump in the sack if she gets a good enough offer!" Ginny exclaimed as she sat down on Hermione's other side.

"He what!" Ron bellowed.

Half the Hall went silent as people turned to stare at him.

"Oops. I mean, he what?" Ron hissed.

Hermione nodded. "But it's nothing I can't handle," she said quickly, noticing Harry rising from his seat and glaring at something near the doors.

She turned quickly and saw Malfoy strutting into the Hall. As he sat down, he looked over at her and gave her an odd look. But the next moment, he immersed himself in conversation with a dark haired boy next to him.

"Harry, no!" she exclaimed as Harry stood up fully and started towards Slytherin table.

She grabbed the back of his robes and wrenched him back down in his seat.

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me, dammit! I can handle him on my own!"

"Not if he. . .if he, you know. . .tries something," he whispered furiously.

She smiled in spite of the situation. "Harry, do you really think I'm as defenseless as I look? I have a few things up my sleeve for that little prick. Trust me, I'm not a weak little girl."

"I never said you were!" he said indignantly.

"Best do as she says, mate," Ron said seriously. "If she says she can, let her do it. I know she can do it. Besides, won't it be worth it to see her kick the crap out of him?"

Harry thought for a moment, then nodded.

"He knows I'm serious. Last night I told him if he didn't shut his big mouth, I'd transplant his mouth to his ass. And it wasn't a threat, it was a promise."

Ginny giggled as the other two chortled in amusement.

Professor McGonagall came towards them, carrying a stack of parchment. "New schedules for you all. Let's see here, N.E.W.T students. . ." she muttered absently as she consulted a clipboard with their grades from last year.

Minutes later, the four of them had their new schedules. Hermione looked down at the schedule and noticed the new teacher listed beside the Defense Against the Dark Arts course.

"Looks like they found someone after all," Ron commented, noticing the name too.

"Professor M. Nemesaris," Harry muttered to himself before looking up at the High Table.

The other three followed his gaze and found themselves staring at a young woman sitting in Snape's former place. Her was long and black, hanging down well past her shoulders. Her face had a graceful structure to it, almost regal, but when she looked up from her breakfast, they saw a harsh coldness in her features. Her eyes were sharp and grey, sweeping around the Hall before going back to her meal. She wore deep blue robes, and over them, a fine, silver cloak, fastened at the base of her neck with a curious, swirling brooch.

"She looks pleasant enough. Well, except for the fact that she looks like she could go mental any second and kill us all," Ron commented.

They all laughed and went back to their schedules, looking to see when they had this new teacher.

"First class right after lunch," Hermione said, leaning over to see whether Harry and Ron's said the same thing.

"And it's a N.E.W.T. class, which means there's a bloody good chance Ferret Boy will be in there," Ron groaned.

"Yes, well, Potions is too, and we never had a problem before, remember? And at least Slughorn's still here," Harry said reasonably.

It was true, Professor Horace Slughorn had decided to remain one more year at Hogwarts after Dumbledore's demise. And as Snape had run off, Slytherin needed a new Head of House, so Slughorn took back his old house and stayed on as Potions master. At the moment, Slughorn was seated up at the High Table next to Professor Flitwick. Both were immersed in a deep conversation.

"Well, at least we still get free periods every now and then," Ron said halfheartedly, looking down at his schedule with a sad face. "Every bloody course they can think of for N.E.W.T's, and we've just about got them all. I'll be lucky to make it out of this year alive. I just might die from lack of sleep. You know how important these things are?"

Hermione nodded. "We need them to get jobs after this. Have you lot decided what you wanted to do yet?"

Ron shrugged in an offhand way, but Harry nodded vigorously. "Auror. Definitely an Auror. There's really no question about it, you know that, as you. . ."

Hermione shot him a warning look before he finished his sentence and revealed that she wanted to become an Auror as well.

Harry looked apologetic as he hastily shut his mouth. Meanwhile, Ron was looking curiously between the two.

"As you, what?" he asked.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly.

Ron didn't look convinced. "Oh all right then. Leave me out of it. See if I care, I'll just go on being politely clueless, shall I?"

Hermione looked at his slightly hurt face, feeling sorry for him. She really didn't want anyone knowing she wanted to be an Auror, she didn't know why, but she just didn't feel like disclosing that particular bit of information was wise. However, in Ron's case. . .

"Fine. If you must know, then what Harry was about to say was how I have decided that there is no question about it for me as well. Ron, I want to become an Auror too."

"That's all? That's the big secret?"

"That's the big secret."

He gave a short laugh. "Why was it such a big secret?"

She shrugged. "I just didn't feel like telling anyone. For some reason, I didn't think people should know, that's all."

He shrugged. "I guess that makes the three of us then. I haven't thought of anything else I wanted to be, and besides, fighting's the only thing that really matters anymore, isn't it?"

Hermione and Harry nodded. Then, Harry looked at his watch.

"Oh damn! We'd better hurry, or we'll be late to Potions!"

There was a scramble to shove down any last bits of breakfast, grabbing of school bags and furious chugging of some last minute pumpkin juice before the trio bolted out of the Great Hall and down the steps to the dungeons.

In anticipation for their Defense Against the Dark Arts class after lunch, Hermione found the morning passing by painfully slow. It seemed that hardly anything Professor Slughorn was saying about the complex Death Draught penetrated her skull, and she found herself losing focus and staring off into space for minutes at a time.

". . .which means that when two parts monkshood and three parts wolfsbane are added to four parts hemlock and one part rose hips, the resulting mixture will produce an acid so deadly, it will literally only take the potion touching the victim's lips to kill them instantly." Slughorn finished impressively.

Kill. Deadly. Instantaneous death.

'Ah death, such a pleasant experience. Well, not in the case of your parents, but they were an exception, weren't they, Hermione? They didn't choose to die, did they? They had their lives brutally taken? What was it now? Your mother's neck was snapped, wasn't it?' The Voice said slyly.

'Goddamn it! SHUT UP! GO TO HELL!'

'I am your hell. You are in hell. Deal with it.'

"Miss Granger?" Slughorn was asking her something.

She jumped. "I'm sorry, sir. What was that again?"

Slughorn looked at her a little concernedly. "Are you quite all right there, dear? You look a little pale and sickly."

"I'm fine, sir, it's just, you know, the first day back. A little lack of sleep is all."

"If you're sure," he trailed off uncertainly.

"Quite sure. Was there a question you needed answered?"

Slughorn instantly reverted back to teacher mode. "Ah, yes, yes, yes. The question. I was merely inquiring as to why you needed to add the monkshood to the wolfsbane before mixing them with the hemlock and rose hips."

"The components, when added one at a time, separately, to the liquid solution will produce an entirely different compound, meaning an entirely different acid, which probably wouldn't be nearly strong enough to produce the killing effect so desired."

"Very good! Take ten points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger."

The rest of Potions slid by slowly, and after that, she found herself nearly asleep in Arithmancy, normally her favorite subject. Professor Vector didn't seem to pleased with her, but Hermione was too interested in the DADA class that she hardly cared.

At long last, the trio met up again in the Great Hall for lunch before proceeding up to Professor Nemesaris's room for the first DADA class.

When they arrived outside her room, they found they weren't the only ones waiting there. As this was a N.E.W.T level class, they found themselves only joined by three Ravenclaws, one Hufflepuff, and of course, Malfoy with the dark haired boy Hermione had seen him talking to earlier at breakfast.

They all fell silent when the door opened on its own accord, and filed just as silently into the classroom. It was a mix of pictures like the ones Snape had in his day, and almost a bit of Trelawney's room as well. The three didn't know whether to be intimidated or disgusted; there were several shawls and such draped over the lighting so that it was eerily dim in the room.

'Almost like the day your parents died, isn't it Hermione?' The Voice asked.

'If you don't shut up. . .' she thought warningly.

'You'll what? Bash your head against a wall in an attempt to dislodge me? Ha, that's a good one, nothing I haven't been threatened with before, though, might I say, it's never been successful.'

"Good afternoon," a cold voice said from the shadows.

Everyone jumped and looked around for the source of the voice. Professor Nemesaris stepped out of the shadows near the door, looking impressive and intimidating.

"As I understand, this is my N.E.W.T. class, is it not?"

They all nodded, fearful of what could happen if they didn't answer.

A smile suddenly lit the professor's face, making her look a cross between highly insane or extremely happy. Hermione decided on both. It scared her, she had never seen that look before on anyone. She looked sideways at Harry and received a shock; it was clear he had seen that look before, and now sat as though frozen in his chair, his eyes wide with appall. She gave him a nudge, attempting to get him back to his senses.

Professor Nemesaris took attendance, pausing at Harry's name for a moment. She looked up at him and surveyed him, unblinkingly, for several moments. Hermione couldn't tell whether she was trying to frighten him or get an idea as to how tough he really was. But Harry wouldn't back down, he stared right back at her until she looked away.

"Now then, as this is your final year at Hogwarts, we will enter into the fun things. I will show you many complex curses, spells and enchantments and their counterparts. This is important to your futures outside the school, what with the Dark Lord running around killing everyone in sight," she paused, and Hermione thought she saw something of a smirk on the professor's lips. But the next second, she figured she must have imagined it, as Professor Nemesaris continued on.

"So, with that, does anyone know a Dark curse? Besides the Unforgivable Curses?"

Nobody raised their hands. Professor Nemesaris shook her head.

"I should have expected better of you. You're seventh years! Obviously you're behind. Way behind."

The rest of the class was spent taking notes on the complex curses and writing down their counter curses. That is, until Professor Nemesaris noticed Malfoy wasn't paying attention.

She walked over to him slowly. He took no notice apparently, he was lost in a daydream. His eyes were glazed over, and he was staring somewhere vaguely to the left of him.

With a quick jerk, Professor Nemesaris cracked Malfoy on the head with her hand.

"The hell?" Malfoy yelled, jerking out of his spell and jumping out of his chair.

"My suggestion to you, Mr. Malfoy, is to pay attention in my class, or suffer the consequences. Failure to do so may result in these poor people around you seeing your lifeless corpse upon the floor, mangled and torn, as you would so rightly deserve."

Hermione's stomach lurched. Mangled, torn bodies upon the floor. Lifeless corpses. Dead. Life ripped from their bodies without cause. Blood. Blood on her clothing, blood on her hands. The letter, in her parents blood.

Hermione's mind spun. She tried to focus, get it out of her head.

'No point, my dear. They're here, they're always here. They'll never leave you. They'll haunt you for the rest of your days,' the Voice taunted.

Hermione's eyes swam with tears as she looked down at the floor and saw her parents, lying there, her father's face viciously slashed, her mother's head lying at a weird angle.

"No," she whispered. "Not again, please, not again."

And there was Greyback, coming towards her again, claws outstretched.

Hermione flung herself backward, off her chair, grabbing her bag, stumbling backward, away from her parents' lifeless bodies and away from Greyback.

"Hermione?" Harry and Ron both said, alarmed.

Hermione didn't hear them. All she knew is that she had to get away from Greyback and her parents and that goddamn voice in her head, which was calling out for her to take action.

'One cut. It solves it all. Just do it. You know it makes you feel better,' the Voice told her, encouraging her.

"No! Please, not again! Stop! Get away from me! AWAY FROM ME, I SAID!" She screamed before running from the room.

She didn't hear Harry and Ron yelling after her, nor did she notice the knowing smirk upon the professor's face as she tore blindly from the room.

Up one corridor, down a flight of stairs. The third floor, the third floor, dammit, where was the third floor and the painting of the lion and the snake?

She reached it and screamed the password, hearing Greyback behind her, closing in. The pain was overwhelming again. She couldn't deal with it anymore.

"Time to die, Granger!" Greyback called out to her.

Sobbing and screaming, Hermione ran into the common room and up the stairs, flying towards the bathroom.

"Get away from me! I don't want to deal with this anymore!" She screamed, feeling her throat tear as she screamed as loud as she could.

Into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Looking wildly around, something, anything! Just one mark, that's all she needed. Just one little reminder of what physical pain felt like.

The razor! Where's the razor!

She hurtled towards the sink, tearing through the cabinets like a crazed woman, looking for the accursed razor, which had gleamed shiny and dangerous this morning.

She found it inside a handsome leather case. She yanked it out and unfolded it, watching through tear stained eyes as it gleamed menacingly in the light.

She sank down upon the floor, panting, trying to hold her hand steady as she pulled up her sleeve and eyed her wrist. There was the faint scar from her previous episode, white and spidery, stretching across the length of her wrist.

Her parents' bodies were there on the floor in front of her, calling out to her silently, begging her to right the wrongs done to them. They were crying to her, softly, silently, telling her of the horrors they had to endure before life was wiped cleanly from their bodies.

"NO! I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE! MAKE IT STOP!"

With one clean swipe, she ran the razor across her wrist, opening up a positive river of blood. The cut was much deeper and longer than the last one, and as the nerve endings in her wrist signaled pain, Hermione's mind breathed a sign of relief; at last, release.

The razor fell to the floor with a clatter, now crimson mixed with the dangerously sharp and silver metal. An odd thought floated across her grief-filled and pained mind; the crimson represented Gryffindor, and the silver, Slytherin. They were united in pain.

Though she had finally brought out the physical pain that she had been needing to feel for so long, her parents still laid there on the floor in front of her, though they were no longer crying out, telling their story. Hermione closed her eyes and began rocking back and forth on the floor, trying to get it all out of her head. But once again, that damn voice would not shut up.

'That feels better, doesn't it? I told you it would. Just a small taste of what your parents went through. It pales in comparison, but in the end, blood is blood, and blood always pays that debt. Although, Lucius would be much happier if he were here to make the blood spill, and he'd be much, much happier if you were dead.'

Hermione didn't have the strength to tell it to shut up. She didn't have much strength left for anything. The slash she made on her wrist continued to bleed furiously, and if it didn't stop soon. . .

All at once, the sobbing began again. There was so much pain locked under the surface, so much that she didn't dare show, for fear they would think she was cracking up. There was a lot she couldn't do anymore. The Voice and the pain, the incessant fear of being thought of as mental, it was all getting to be too much.

As Hermione's mind and heart flooded with the thought that things would be so much easier for everyone if she was dead, the door to the bathroom banged open with a crash and hurried footsteps in her direction signaled the arrival of someone.

"Granger! What the hell did you do? You're bleeding all over the place!"

The hated voice. That egotistical, spoiled, horny bastard that was sired from the man who killed her parents.

More footsteps, then the hated was kneeled next to her, a hand going to the cut, trying to stop it.

"Jesus, Hermione, what did you do?" It was kinder this time, not so accusing, and he used her first name.

The sound of air passing her ear, and then something cold and wet being pressed against the cut. Then, more footsteps, as though two people were running up the stairs, and then, shouts.

"What the hell! Hermione, what did you do?"

Harry. . .and Ron. . .more words flying through the air, though none of it mattered to her anymore. She was tired. . .so tired. . .and her parents were still there. . .blood on the floor. . .not theirs, but hers. . .

nothing made sense anymore. . .and she had lost so much blood. . .

"I'm sorry," she whispered out through nearly white lips. "I'm sorry."

More pressure to the wound. . .and then. . .arms around her. . .scooping her up. . .

"I think Madam Pomfrey needs to see her. Just lay your head down, Herms, it's gonna be okay. You're safe now."

Safe. Nobody was safe anymore. Especially her. Not with the hated living in such close quarters with her. Lure you into a sense of false security. . .wait for it. . .then stab you in the back when you thought you were safe.

To Hermione Granger, there was no such thing as safe anymore.