Disclaimer: I don't own the car I drive, the toaster I use... oh, or Harry Potter.

Last time:

Which is precisely why, on one fateful night, when I heard footsteps approaching me from behind, it didn't strike me as the least bit odd. That is until I turned from the shore of the lake, still hidden under Harry's cloak, to see one Draco Malfoy coming almost directly at me.

He had an almost ethereal glow about him, his light blonde hair framing his pale features which were all illuminated by the waxing moon that hung fairly high in the night sky.

I didn't dare move, let alone breathe. Everyone's senses had been heightened throughout the war; I was sure if I made any sound whatsoever I'd be found out.

o0o

The lake was softly lapping against the shore. I couldn't hold my breath a second longer. When I finally allowed air to rush into my lungs, I knew he would hear it. And he did, his head snapping right in my direction. But the expression on his face was anything but a confrontational one, at first anyway.

Thoughts streamed through my mind during the minutes that passed; his eyes searching intensely, yet patiently waiting for another noise to come.

I realized then with complete certainty he, like me, must have only been out on the grounds in search for a moment wherein it was easier to pretend things were different than they were.

That's what my walks were all about. It was as if I instructed my feet, "Take me away. Take me somewhere where I'll be able to dream up another existence for myself, no matter how short of a time it lasts."

I wondered what alternate life he was searching for. One where the dark side had one? The light side? Or one where everyone on the planet, excluding him, of course, had met their demise?

No, it couldn't be true. Could it? Surely he was nothing like me.

Malfoy knitted his eyebrows together in his trademark scowl before giving one last glance in my general direction before ever so slowly backing away from the water, his feet not making a single sound.

For Merlin's sake, how had he known the noise hadn't come from any of the numerous magical creatures that openly lurked the grounds at nighttime?

And just what had he been doing out at this time of night? He was up to something, I was sure of it.

I was unwittingly reminded of the tirade Harry had been on for weeks after Dumbledore's death. He constantly told Ron and me that, in fact, Draco Malfoy wasn't a murderer. Or at the very least, couldn't bring himself to kill Dumbledore. I guess he thought this was significant. Harry just forgot the part where it was Malfoy who had managed a way to get all those Death Eaters into the school in the first place. Believing the best of people wasn't the best habit to keep in practice during a time of war. And the thing that had haunted Ron and me the most had been the fact Harry had been right all along; he had known Malfoy was up to something. At the time we had just chalked his paranoia and obsession with Malfoy up to all the stress Harry had endured throughout the past several years. I mean, we all have our breaking points. But Harry had been right; we had been wrong.

I shook my head, I wouldn't do any good to think on such things. Not now. The time for such thoughts had come and gone; the war was over. Even though I didn't know many of the details, I knew Voldemort had been defeated by Harry, who had sacrificed himself to save the world. He always did have that damn hero complex about him.

Ron and I had tried so hard to keep him grounded, remind him he was only one young wizard. He always refused to listen to us though; the expression on his face would become resolute, his green eyes growing stern as he would explain over and over again in broken sentences, "It's up to me. The prophecy... You just don't understand."

Of course we hadn't understood, both of us for different reasons. Ron because he'd grown up in this world of wizardry and knew there were people who were dedicated, qualified, and willing to help Harry until the end. Me because I'd grown up with the idea of a "happily ever after" instilled deep within my world view; and my world view was telling me that Harry fighting Voldemort alone was just not how things were supposed to happen. After all, how would that end happily for us, the infamous 'Golden Trio'?

"You just don't understand."

"You're right, Harry," I thought to myself, "...and I still don't."

Sighing, I rose from the ground, knowing Malfoy would be long gone by now. So much for creating an alternate reality for myself. Sometimes past and present realities were too obtrusive to forget so easily. Especially with Malfoy lurking about.

Still under the cover of Harry's cloak I made my way back to the castle and to my chambers without any trouble. As I slipped the cloak off my shoulders, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It was the first time in ages I'd witnessed myself virtually reappear out of thin air.

It always had been rather alarming to watch Harry uncloak himself after one of his many pursuits for a horocrux; somehow that had made it seem all too real. The cloak was no longer for late night adventures or for simply prowling around the halls of Hogwarts, it was now serving an insanely important purpose: it was helping protect Harry's life.

One particular night (just days after we lost George... weeks after we'd lost Ron) Harry returned to Tonks' cottage after a strangely short excursion. I heard him walking down the hall to the to the small room where I spent a large amount of my time where I researched anything and everything that could be of aide to Harry.

I heard the door open to my room and glanced up to see nothing at all.

Exasperatedly I huffed, "Honestly Harry, you can't just go traipsing through the cottage wearing that blasted thing. I would be forever grateful if you'd at least extend to me the courtesy of taking two seconds to make yourself visible. Is that really too much to ask?"

He obliged, pulling the cloak off, and I was startled to find him mere inches from me. Harry let out a short laugh. It amazed me that throughout everything Harry still seemed to be able to laugh about things. But his face showed no sign of humor whatsoever; the laugh must've been something more of habit than anything, an act in a strive for some sense of normalcy in an entirely abnormal world.

Serious eyes gazed down at me as he began, "Hermione, we need to talk."

Closing the open book in front of me and giving him my full attention I responded, "Sure Harry, have a seat."

He lowered himself onto the chair that sat on the other side of my desk, invisibility cloak gathered up in his hands. He sat in silence for a moment or two, looking as if he were struggling to come up with the words to say.

Worriedly I inquired, "Harry, it's not -- who is it this time?"

He quickly replied, "Oh, no, Hermione... Nothing like that."

I breathed a sigh of relief, "What then?"

He gave me what I assumed to be a reassuring look and began, "It's just that the Molly is really worried about Fred. It seems losing George was the last straw of sorts for him. No one's heard from him since the news arrived. But she just wanted me to let you know that she's decided it's best if we all leave Fred to himself, let him grieve in peace, you know?"

I gave him a questioning look, did he really think I had the time to even consider seeking out Fred to bother him? I glanced down at the numerous books spread out in front of me on the desk before looking back up to meet Harry's intense gaze. I gave a small smile and responded, "Of course."

Harry nodded curtly, rising from the chair saying, "All right then. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

I called out, "Goodnight, Harry" as he exited my room. I briefly wondered if the situation with Fred had been what he really had wanted to discuss with me; it was so hard to tell these days. Deciding it was best not to give it another thought, I reopened the large volume in front of me. I stared at the page for a few moments, its words just seemed to smudge together. I glanced toward the small window. The sun had set ages ago and all I could see was a reflection of myself: a pale girl, whose face seemed more drawn than natural, that very face framed by unruly plain brown hair... such ridiculous hair. Looking away, I returned my eyes to the book.

I was suddenly struck by the thought that the world was spinning out of control. There was so much I couldn't control. I felt entirely helpless, as if there was nothing I could do that would change any aspect of anything.

An idea struck me and I set to action before I could change my mind. Opening the drawer of the large desk I was sitting at, I rummaged through it. My hand grazed the very thing I had been looking for. Seizing the scissor with one hand, I pulled at a chunk of my unruly hair with the other. Snip. I brought the now detached hair away from my head, staring at the lock of hair I was grasping.

This was more like it, something I could finally be entirely in control of.

Dropping the detached hair and picking out another random amount of hair, I repeated the process. Soon the place where I sat was littered with lots and lots of hair. I glanced back to the window, my reflection starting back at me. I reached up and found my reflection hadn't been lying. It was all gone. Brushing away the stray pieces of hair littered across the desktop, I set back to my research.

A few moments passed, I still couldn't concentrate. Cutting my hair hadn't been enough, as I hoped it would be. There was something else I knew I had to do.

I had to go to Fred Weasley.

I quickly scrawled a note to Harry, placing it at the front of my desk. Without another thought I pushed myself back from the desk and crossed the room to the large fireplace. I fished out a bit of floo powder from the tin setting on the mantle and while throwing it into the flames I proclaimed, "Diagon Alley" and away I went.

A/N: Alrighty, there's chapter 10 for you all!

Reviewers: You guys (ahem, girls) are the bestest ever!

Astrianna Glaze: thanks for reviewing! I try not to make things move too quickly, 'cause it doesn't seem that life ever moves nearly as fast as some stories do ...or something. ;) I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long for this chapter. :)

andrettamaiebodi: no, I was just saying he looked weird. I didn't mean to confuse. :) Umm... I'm guessing you're asking about the uploading process? First, you have to go to the "documents" thing & upload the document (which probably should be saved as an rtf document) and then you go to "stories" and do the whole "create new" deal... And I think that's about it. If you've got any other questions, feel free to email me (my address is on my profile page :)) Thanks again for reviewing!

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