1Okay, so I'm skipping a couple of months. Nothing important happens within those months and I'm getting anxious about getting this story done. So, yeah.

Chapter 16: Rock and Roll Suicide

Hermione sat with Harry and Ron, munching happily on a sandwich as Harry ate hungrily and Ron basically inhaled his food. It was late March and Hermione could feel spring approaching. Soon it would be April and then May...

Hermione stopped eating suddenly. She quickly scanned the crowded Great Hall rapidly before falling upon a head of golden hair. Sensing her gaze the head lifted and grey eyes met brown. Draco smirked slightly at her before winking and licking his lips comically. Hermione forced herself to smile back.

May had been dead for almost three months. Hermione hadn't thought of her in almost two. She hoped Draco hadn't either, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking at any given time. He had been extremely open with May, but he remained slightly secretive with Hermione. They were on fairly friendly speaking terms, and Hermione kept few secrets (except those about the past) from Draco, but he rarely told her anything of significance. The only thing non-May related that Hermione would not tell Draco was that her mother was from France. That could lead to trouble.

Thoughts of May invariably led to thoughts of Jule. Hermione glanced down the table at Jule. She was as far away from Hermione as was humanly possible without falling off of the bench. She looked thin, pale, and sickly. Hermione worried about her as she often did. Was Jule eating or sleeping at all? She certainly looked as though she wasn't. Hermione still attempted to speak with Jule on occasion, but every time that she did Jule was already flapping away in bat form.

Ever since McGonagle had begun to train them Hermione and Draco had been developing quickly as animagi. As it turned out it was considerably more complicated than Jule had made it seem, but having a natural-born animagus as a teacher could only result in such a thing. Being born able to change almost made Jule the equivalent of being born half-bat. The shape was as natural to her as breathing. Hermione and Draco, on the other hand, had the potential to change, but not the innate ability. They needed training.

McGonagle taught them that about all they had to do was concentrate and focus on the details. In order to become a lioness Hermione had to know every tiny detail of a lioness's body right down to the whiskers. This required practice. If even one detail was off by the least the entire transformation would be ruined. This often resulted in hilarity.

During one such incident Hermione had gotten distracted by the way Draco's hair fell into his eyes as she was changing and she had accidentally turned into a half-human half-lion creature similar to a sphinx. Draco had laughed unkindly. For revenge Hermione had until waited McGonagle's back was turned and he was trying to change and then had flashed him. He had turned into a creature with a human body and a wolf head. This was less funny and more horrifying, because there is absolutely no place in nature for an animal like that.

But even if Jule's absence meant Hermione was closer to a successful transformation than ever, Hermione could find no joy in the loss of Jule. Jule might as well be as dead as May as far as her interactions with Hermione went. For that matter Jule looked practically dead.

"Have you guys spoken to Jule at all lately?" Hermione asked the boys.

Ron, too busy eating to speak, merely shook his head and looked at Harry. Harry hesitated.

"Harry?" Hermione prompted.

"Well, um," Harry paused. "A little bit."

"A little bit? What the hell does that mean?"

"What he means," Ron swallowed his mouthful. "Is that every now and then Jule bursts into tears and won't let anyone but Harry near her."

"What! Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione demanded.

"She told me not to," Harry glared at Ron. "But I guess Ron was too busy choking down his food to notice."

Ron turned pink.

"What has she been telling you?"

"Lot's of things," Harry sipped his pumpkin juice nervously. "Mostly that she's really sad and..."

"And?"

"Well, sometimes she threatens to, y'know, maybe hurt herself."

"WHAT!"

"She hasn't yet," Harry protested weakly.

Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself down. "Have you spoken to McGonagle at all?" She ground out. She drew her own conclusions from Harry's long silence. "I'm going to kill you Harry."

"She told me not to say anything! What was I supposed to do, just go tattle on her?"

"Harry, I love you dearly, but you really can be such an idiot sometimes."

"Yeah, Harry," Ron smirked smugly.

"Don't get me started on you too," Hermione snapped.

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Hermione's plan was simple. Since Jule would not talk to Hermione, Hermione would simply have to disguise herself somehow. Hermione's first impulse was to brew some polyjuice, but that would take far too long. Instead Hermione experienced a moment of clarity in which she realized that she already knew what to do.

Carefully considering the charms that she already knew Hermione gazed at her reflection in the mirror. One charm she knew would change the color of her eyes and another would change the length and color of her hair. The charm to change her face was a little longer because she had to alter her entire facial structure and skin color. She did not, however, know a charm to change the appearance of her body. Sh thought for a long time. The original charms were all in Latin, so by substituting the word for face with the word for body in the face spell she might be able to change her body's appearance as well. She would also have to make herself look taller, but that could be easily accomplished by wearing shoes with platforms and a spell cast upon her feet to make lookers reluctant to inspect her feet thoroughly.

After about thirty minutes of trial and failure Hermione had accomplished her goal. The biggest challenge had not been her body, as she had thought it would be, but the creation of a lightning shaped scar on her forehead identical to Harry's. Harry's scar was distinctive and was unlike any other scar ever created. Hermione had once done some testing on Harry's scar out of curiosity and had learned that part of it's individuality was due to its magical scar tissue. The failure of the killing curse had done strange things to the molecular structure of Harry's skin, creating his scar without ever actually breaking his skin. Because it was so complex it was hard to duplicate the appearance. It was also, however, completely necessary. The image of Harry's scar was so well-known that any even slightly imperfect replica would be an obvious fake. It was now that Hermione's new-found attention to detail came in most handy.

At last Hermione's transition was complete. As she inspected her reflection she saw not Hermione or May, but Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived.

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May sat on her bed, legs crossed Indian-style, staring blankly ahead of her. She wasn't thinking about anything in particular, but merely reflecting on how dark everything was now. Life had never been perfect; dead-beat parents, destroyed school, general low self-esteem which she boosted with pointless sex. But none of that hurt as much as falling in love did. Jule could now see why she had always avoided the affliction so carefully.

A knock at the door stopped her mind from wandering. Clearing her dry throat, Jule rasped out: "It's unlocked."

The door opened and Harry came in. "Mind if I come in?"

Jule nodded, scrutinizing her friend. It looked like Harry, and it certainly sounded like Harry, but something was off. Deciding to wait it out Jule stayed silent.

"How are you feeling today?" Harry asked, sitting down next to Jule on the bed. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Jule shrugged. "You're the one who wanted to talk to me. Anything you want to talk about?"

"I just wanted to see how you were holding up."

"Thanks, Hermione. I'm glad you care."

Harry smiled wryly. "Didn't fool you for a second, did I?"

"Your charms are good, and your performance was very convincing, but you forgot two things."

"What was that?" Hermione tried to sound casual, hoping to keep Jule talking.

"First of all you forgot that boys aren't allowed in the girl's tower. The stairs turn into a slide. I figured that out pretty early on, trying to sneak boys up here."

Hermione scowled. How could she have forgotten! Her mind must be slipping.

"And second you forgot to change your smell."

"My smell?"

"I have a very strong sense of smell and not only do you not smell even remotely masculine, you smell like you. I'm not going to forget your smell any time soon." Jule looked down at the clenched hands in her lap.

Hermione thought of how she always felt, holding Draco in her arms and inhaling his own, personal scent. She knew his smell would be imprinted on her memory forever, just as hers was secured in Jule's memory. Suddenly a thought occurred to her; why couldn't Draco recognize her smell? It wasn't as if he hadn't been more than close enough to her as May or Hermione to smell her..

"So what's so important that you became Harry to speak to me?" Jule asked at length.

"I heard you've been thinking about hurting yourself." Hermione wouldn't meet Jule's eyes.

"I'm going to kill the real Harry." Jule intoned flatly.

"It wasn't his fault. I forced it out of him."

Jule smirked ironically. "You can be slightly intimidating when you want to be."

Hermione smiled back. Then her smile was gone. "Why would you want to do that to yourself."

"You've been in love," Jule shrugged. "What would you do if you couldn't sleep with Draco to make yourself feel better?"

"You know about that, huh?"

"I know lot's of things."

There was an awkward silence. "So," Harry's voice (Hermione's voice was still disguised) cracked slightly. "We won't ever be friends again, will we?"

"I don't know," Jule answered honestly. "Maybe someday. I can't see the future. But not now. I just need time away from you."

"If I leave you alone," Hermione began cautiously. "Will you promise to take better care of yourself?"

"No, I don't make promises. They only lead to lies. I guess that I'll try to though."

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It was one week later that Jule lived up to her words and gave up.

Hermione was sitting in History class, unhappily staring out the window at the grounds which should have been sunny. It was the first week of April and it should be sunny out, but instead it was dark and cloudy and had been raining intermittently throughout the day.

Professor Binns was droning on monotonously about something or other, as always, and Hermione's eyes were just sliding shut when McGonagle knocked sharply on the door and requested a quick word with Professor Binns. Her face was tight and pale and her eyes looked wild and nervous, like a skittish horse. After a moment of quick whispers from McGonagle Professor Binns turned around to face the class. His unchangingly bored face looked almost surprised, which was enough to make Hermione exceedingly nervous.

"Miss Granger," Binns droned. "Professor McGonagle would like a word with you."

Swallowing, Hermione stuffed her books into her bag and followed McGonagle silently out of the classroom. They marched down the hall, still in silence, and Hermione grew even more nervous. McGonagle's back was even straighter and stiffer than usual; something was definitely wrong.

"Professor..." Hermione eventually started, but they had already stopped. They were outside the Hospital Wing.

"Miss Granger... Hermione," McGonagle's face was pained. "Your friend Miss McKay has... done harm to herself."

Hermione felt her head spinning. She knew that she shouldn't be surprised, and she wasn't very, not logically at least. But that didn't make it any easier to accept the fact that Jule had...had...

"She slit her wrists some time this morning. A second year Ravenclaw girl found her in the third floor lavatory and was quick enough to cast a mending spell on her wrists before she lost too much blood and then she called for Madame Pomfrey."

Hermione felt like she was going to throw up. Couldn't McGonagle let her sit down or something? There was a long moment of silence.

"Is she ok?"

"She will be, in time," McGonagle nodded curtly. "I have to ask you this though. She didn't give you any indication that she might try something like this, did she?" Hermione shrugged. McGonagle's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"I was scared, I didn't know what to do!" Hermione stuttered.

"That is simply unacceptable, Miss Granger. You are seventeen years old, you are not a child anymore! You have been given the authority and responsibility of Headgirl! How can you think that is a reasonable answer?" When Hermione said nothing McGonagle grew angrier. "Say something Miss Granger!"

"I don't know!" Hermione burst into tears. "I don't know anything anymore! Jule hasn't been talking to me in months, and I just heard that she might do something last week, and I tried to make her promise me that she wouldn't do anything, but she wouldn't! And I couldn't risk her never forgiving me, I just couldn't! Haven't you ever lost your best friend before?"

McGonagle was unmoved. "Well, thanks to your irresponsibility, you very nearly did." Hermione was crushed. "You may wait with Miss McKay inside. I'm sure she will want to speak with you when she wakes up." McGonagle began to walk away. After several steps she turned on her heel and shoved a piece of parchment into Hermione's hand. "By the way, she left this for you." And then she kept walking.

Hermione slid down the wall to sit on the floor, knees to her chest and face in her hands along with the now crumpled parchment. After a long time her tears slowed down and she was able to read the note. Sniffling gently, Hermione tried to calm her shaking hands by smoothing out the parchment. Eventually her eyes were focused enough for her to read. It was clearly written in Jule's cramped handwriting.

Dear Hermione,

Now you know why I wouldn't promise you anything. I'm sorry that I'm so weak, but I didn't have the same kind of life that you did. My parents never loved me, or if they did they never showed it very well. I never had good friends like Harry and Ron; in fact you were the first real friend I ever had. Everyone else has only ever been interested in sleeping with me. But you actually cared about me. And then I had to go and fuck it up by falling in love with you. I know you can't love me back, so don't feel bad about that. After all, who could ever love someone like me? I know that I wouldn't. Either way, don't feel bad about what's happened now that I'm gone: I'm doing this for both of us so that you won't have to deal with my bullshit anymore and so that I won't have to hurt anymore. Good luck with Draco. I wish you all the best in the world.

My love always,

Jule

P.S. You never needed May. I've always like Hermione much better anyway.

The tears started again and Hermione didn't bother trying to stop them. Gently folding the note, she put it into her pocket and swore that she would keep it forever. She owed that much to Jule at least.

After a while Hermione could stand and she finally entered the Hospital Wing.

TBC...

Preview: "It's alright Jule," Hermione whispered. "I'm here."

"Hermione?" Jule moaned in her sleep, face contorted in pain.

"I'm here."