Call of the Circle

by RoBoC

During the summer after his fifth year, Draco Malfoy has an encounter that will forever alter his world.

43. Playing the Game

Hermione sighed and stared at the floor of the hospital wing. How many samples of her blood would Madam Pomfrey need? The nurse tugged the tourniquet free. Her grip remained for a moment then it too disappeared. Hermione turned her head just in time to see the nurse tuck the small vial of blood into the pocket of her robes and then smile at her.

"Thank you, dear, you can go now," Madam Pomfrey nodded and left. Hermione watched her go for a moment, and then tugged her sleeve down and fastened her cuff. The hospital was deserted. Hermione, for the moment at least, was alone. It occurred to her that she hadn't been alone all week. Wherever she went, it was as though there was someone with her, watching her. Ok, most of the time there had been, her housemates or Draco. But even then, there was something else, a presence she couldn't identify. The voice had been silent since the duel, her reflection hadn't spoken to her again, but that was little comfort, the fear of it remained. It had happened once, would it happen again? Hermione trembled at the thought, she wanted desperately not to be, but she was scared. How could she not be? Pansy Parkinson was still so shaken by whatever Hermione, or the voice, had done to her that she shrieked and ran in the opposite direction whenever they so much as made eye contact, and Pansy wasn't alone in her fear. People who before had barely even noticed Hermione Granger now suddenly jumped out of her way as she walked through the corridors, or just stopped and stared. To make matters worse, the mystery surrounding the duel had stirred the whispering rumour mongers into a frenzy. Already, Hermione had heard a dozen different versions of the event from various people, which, in her confusion, she could neither confirm as accurate nor deny as rubbish. Her friends hadn't helped much either. Ever since the duel, they had pestered her, asking questions to which she had no answer, pressing for details that she couldn't give them. They hadn't believed her when she had told them the truth; that she really, honestly had no idea what had happened during her duel with Pansy. In the end she had simply refused to answer them, even with a denial.

As she stood and took up her bag, the thought occurred to her that, maybe, if she explained to them that she was ill, they might leave her alone. Thus far, she hadn't so much as mentioned her illness…not to anyone. She hadn't been able to find the words. Hermione chewed her lip; no, she couldn't do that. They wouldn't understand it, so it would only scare them. How could they understand it? How could she explain something to them when she didn't understand it herself? She had tried to make sense of the whole thing, had done little else all week in fact, but to no avail.

It was a mystery, and an insurmountable one from where Hermione stood. Madam Pomfrey had helped her all she could, answering her questions and telling her in what books she might find more of the details she sought, but the simple truth was that Magical Polarity Disorder was a little known and almost completely mysterious illness. Over the last few days, she had read about only one hundred and seven people in the last century that had suffered with MPD. With so few cases, there had been precious little for the medi-wizards to go on in their search for an effective treatment. Hermione had found plenty of descriptions of what her illness wasn't, but nothing conclusive about what it was. It wasn't a virus, nor was it a bacterial illness, it didn't appear to be related to environment or lifestyle, there was simply no explanation for it. In fact it was something of a miracle that Madam Pomfrey had recognised the symptoms at all.

The one single consolation that all her reading had given her was that, just as Madam Pomfrey had told her, the condition was temporary. Most people suffered from it for only a matter of weeks before it appeared to correct itself. The most severe case that Hermione had come across, that of Natalie Hentley forty years ago had required her to take a series of potions and remedies that restored the magical balance in her cells over a period of around six months. Hermione had mentioned this to Madam Pomfrey only to be assured that her case was nowhere near that severe as yet, and that more tests would be needed to determine if it would get that far before it had run its course. Hence, the blood samples. This was the third one that Hermione had given, and she was still no more used to that damned needle than she had been the first time. She shivered as she opened the door of the hospital and left. The corridor outside was deserted. Hermione folded her arms about herself and headed down toward the Entrance Hall. She was lost in her own thoughts and so was taken completely by surprise when Draco appeared beside her.

"Fuck me!" she yelped.

Draco grinned. "Pardon?"

"You scared the hell out of me," Hermione slapped at his shoulder, "Where did you spring from?"

Draco grinned. "I was standing right there," he pointed toward a dark spot in the shadow of a large statue, "Waiting for you to come out," he laughed, "I don't know how you missed me," he added innocently.

Hermione glared at him. "You were hiding, waiting to jump out and scare me," she slapped him again, playfully, "Don't try to deny it."

He was just joking about, his way of cheering her up. Hermione knew that, but it didn't mean he was going to get away with it. Putting on an exaggerated scowl, she brushed past him and stormed off down the corridor, folding her arms across her chest. Draco's heels clicked sharply on the tiles as he turned to chase her. From the sound, he was skipping. He slowed his pace to match hers as he drew level with her. "Now don't get all huffy, just because I scared you. Anyone would think that you didn't like it."

"Why would I like being scared, Draco?" she said, trying to sound annoyed.

"A little fright can be good for the soul, Hermione," he said, then he leaned close to her and whispered, "amongst…other things."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the sly little grin on his face. That along with the sound of his voice mewing in her ear made it next to impossible for her to keep her face straight. Hermione held her frown for several seconds as he continued to stare at her, and then she smiled. "That's better," he said in triumph. Draco moved around behind her, running his fingers across her bum as he passed. Hermione shivered, her smile widened. Draco! How the hell did he always manage to make her feel so silly inside? All he had to do was look at her these days and her stomach quivered. How did he do it? Hermione continued to smile; she didn't really care. He did, and that was all that mattered. Despite everything that was going on in her head, having him near her made her feel good. That was all he had to do, just stand there.

Her mind flew back to Tuesday night. She remembered lying in the hospital bed pretending to be asleep and suddenly becoming aware of him beside her, watching over her like he was her very own guardian angel. Thinking of it now brought a lump to her throat, just as it had then. He hadn't made a sound or tried to wake her, nor had she opened her eyes or given him the slightest sign that she knew he was there, that would have spoiled it. It was a perfect memory, and they were a thing to be cherished. She played again as she listened to him chatter on about nothing in particular. It was perfect, he had been perfect. He had just stood there, still as a statue in complete silence until sleep had finally claimed her and the eyes had returned to take her from him.

A shudder ran through her and she stopped in her tracks, the mere memory of the dream shattering her good mood. Draco picked up on it, he appeared in front of her and took hold of her, his fingers gently squeezing her hips. "Hey, what is it?"

"Nothing," Hermione answered with a forced smile. Draco, dear Draco, he hadn't a clue either. She hadn't managed to find the words to tell her friends about her illness, but she hadn't even been able to find the will to try and tell him. Maybe keeping it a secret didn't make sense, she had often mused to herself. It wasn't as if there was anything to be frightened of, but she was frightened. There had been moments when she had wanted to tell him, but she just couldn't. The way he listened without judgment or assumption when she told him about her dreams was something she would be eternally grateful for, and she knew in her heart that he would give her the same support about her illness. But he already had too much pain in his life as it was. She wasn't about to heap more of her own misery onto his plate.

So, the secret remained. She had told Draco that she was repeatedly returning to see Madam Pomfrey for checkups about her duelling injury, which, she had convinced herself to ease her conscience, was almost the truth. Thus far, he seemed to believe her, but lying to him when he showed such trust in her still hurt. So, in a bid to maintain what little shreds of her sanity remained, Hermione had vowed not to even mention anything related to her illness to him if it were possible to avoid it. Come to think of it, "Hold on," she said, frowning at him, "how did you find me? I don't remember telling you that I was going to see the nurse."

"You didn't," Draco drew back nervously, "I'm just that good," he said with a wavering smile.

"Don't lie to me, Draco," she stepped toward him, "How did you find me?"

He avoided her eyes. "A little bird told me?" he said it in a tone that showed how little he expected it to work.

"Draco…" Hermione added a little force to her tone.

Draco's eyes rolled in their sockets. "Alright, I did a Locator Charm, happy?"

"Why?" said Hermione.

"Well," Draco paused, "I went to the library, but you weren't there. I looked in the Prefects Common room, the Great Hall and about a dozen other places, but I couldn't find you…"

He trailed off. "That still doesn't answer my question," Hermione saw embarrassment in his eyes, she smiled again, "why were you looking for me in the first place?"

Draco sighed. "Fine," he leaned forward and took hold of her shoulders, "I wanted to see you, I…missed you. There, I said it," he released her and stepped back, "And I swear, if you laugh at me, I will hex you into next year," he turned on his heel to hide his embarrassed blush and walked off.

The giddy feeling inside Hermione came back. She wanted to smile even wider, but that wasn't possible without damaging her face. She sped up, catching Draco as he turned the corner into the corridor that led to the Entrance Hall. "What's your rush?" she pinched his hip, making him twitch, "I thought you said you missed me," she giggled.

"I did," Draco sighed, "and I told you not to laugh."

He sounded hurt. Hermione forced her face to settle. "I'm not laughing," he scoffed, "no really," she moved closer to him, "I think its…sweet." Draco looked at her, frowning for a moment, then shook his head in apparent disgust. Hermione was confused. "What?"

"You do realise that no girl has called me sweet before?"

"Never?" He shook his head. Hermione found this hard to believe. "Not even one of your other girlfriends?" Hermione gulped inside but manage to hide it. She had said the 'G' word.

If Draco noticed, he didn't make any mention of it. He merely scoffed. "None of them would have dared."

The coldness in his voice struck a chord in Hermione. She saw in it a vestige of the old Draco that still remained in him. That thought brought another. "Not even Pansy?" The question was out of her mouth before she knew it.

Draco tensed, all trace of mirth vanished from his face. "No," his tone was all business now, "never. I told you, Hermione, me and Pansy are…"

He stopped as Hermione covered his lips. "I know…you told me already. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned her at all."

Draco pulled her fingers away. "I don't have any feelings for her anymore," he repeated for the hundredth time.

"I know," she said. Hermione did know. Any doubts she had had were gone, Draco had destroyed them completely. First, there was his silent vigil over her hospital bed, which of course, as far as he knew, she was completely unaware of. That knowledge was Hermione's secret little treasure and she was going to keep it that way. Apart from that, Draco seemed to feel that she continually needed proof that he liked her, despite her assurances to the contrary. Ever since she had left the hospital he had hovered around her, offering to carry her books, escorting her to class, the works. It was almost as though he was determined to make a point of lavishing her with attention in full view of everyone, and they had started to notice. Heads were starting to turn, eyes starting to stare. Though nobody seemed to have realised the true nature of their…whatever it was they had going on, the attention was enough to make Hermione uncomfortable. She did like his attention though. She smiled at him. "Can we change the subject?"

"Fine," Draco nodded, "Consider it changed. So…where were you headed?"

Hermione breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "Gryffindor, since you asked."

"Fancy some company? It is a long walk," he said with a grin.

Hermione smiled. "Alright then." The trip up to Gryffindor would take longer if she strolled along with Draco, but she suddenly wasn't in a hurry.

Draco stepped back, gestured for her to take the lead and then draped his arm around her. Hermione stopped dead. Nothing he had said or done; none of his behaviour during the week had prepared her for it. Such an open display of affection was a degree of magnitude beyond anything else.

"What are you doing?" she hissed at him, blushing instantly.

Draco's eyebrows rose in exaggerated surprise. "I was about to escort you back to Gryffindor," he said in a flat, unassuming tone.

"That's not what I meant," Hermione's eyes darted about. There were several students in the corridor, all of whom had stopped whatever they had been doing and were staring. "You have your arm around me!"

Draco grinned. "Oh, is that where it is? I was wondering where I had left it." He looked at her inquisitively. "Is something wrong?"

"Well," Hermione looked about her again, and her blush deepened when she saw a couple of girls huddling together, giggling in her and Draco's direction, "people are staring at us!"

Draco didn't move his arm. He looked up and washed his gaze around the room. "Huh!" he said, apparently surprised when he saw the others. His face hardened slightly, "People have been staring at me for over a week now," he looked back to her and his face split into a smile, "I'm past caring…so they don't bother me," his smile faded, "unless they bother you?"

Hermione looked at the giggling girls again. Their laughter did bother her. She hated being the centre of attention like this. Added to that was the fact that several of the others were Gryffindors and that some of them had already turned to run off and spread the word. Hermione pictured the news spreading like a sudden fire throughout the school, and that also bothered her. But, she sighed, what was done was done. There was no stopping it now, soon the whole school would be whispering and staring at her. 'Oh well,' she looked into Draco's eyes, 'in for a penny…' She moved closer to him and put her arm around his waist, smiling as she did, "No, not in the least." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him briefly on the lips, 'in for a pound!' she thought. As she pulled back she noticed with a degree of satisfaction that Draco's face had gone slack with shock. 'He's not the only one that's full of surprises!' She smiled at him. "Lead on."

Draco took a moment to recover, then nodded and with a slight tug he led her forward. The giggling and whispering picked up in volume, but Draco appeared not to hear it. Hermione marvelled at how easily Draco continued to smile at her and make idle small talk as though he hadn't a care in the world. She struggled to do the same as they maintained a steady pace through the corridors. They entered the Entrance Hall; dozens of students turned in a singular state of shock. Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help but find the look of stunned amazement on their faces slightly amusing. They climbed the stairs at the same casual pace, passing by Professor Snape on the third floor landing. It was all Hermione could do to keep her face straight and free of any emotion as she saw him do a double take and then stare blankly at them.

This, finally, was more than Draco's willpower could take. Hermione felt him tense slightly, though there was no trace of it on his face. Hermione gave him a little squeeze and when he looked down at her, she smiled at him. Draco grinned back and she felt him relax. Hermione was so busy gazing at him that she didn't notice at first that Draco didn't seem to be leading her to Gryffindor at all. By the time she did realise, they had left the Grand Staircase and were headed down toward the Charms classrooms. Hermione frowned, what was he up to? It occurred to her that Draco might very well be lost. After all, how would he know where the Gryffindor Common Room was?

"Erm," she said quietly, "where are we going?"

"Did I not say I was escorting you to Gryffindor?"

"Yes, but," she laughed, "this isn't the way. Gryffindor Tower is…"

"I know where your dormitory is, Hermione, I am not a fool."

Hermione shook her head; he was lost but wouldn't admit it. "I never said you were a fool, but this isn't the way to Gryffindor."

Draco continued on, leading Hermione down the corridor. "You mean it isn't your way to Gryffindor, there are other ways."

Hermione stopped, grinning at his apparent bravado. "Come off it, Draco. Admit it, you're lost. You haven't the faintest idea where the Gryffindor dormitory is, do you?"

"Don't I?" Draco smirked. "Let me take a wild guess…it wouldn't be somewhere like…on the seventh floor of Gryffindor Tower behind a picture of a great big, fat, old woman in a nasty pink dress."

Hermione stopped again. "How did you…"

Draco laughed at the stunned expression on Hermione's face. "I have my sources, Miss Granger."

Draco turned to walk on again, gently pulling Hermione along with him. Hermione was stunned at how much he knew about Gryffindor. He shouldn't know so much. The house dormitories were supposed to be private, their locations were always closely guarded secrets, as were the passwords required to gain entry. Gryffindors, especially, prided themselves on the secrecy of their Common Room. How had Draco found out? What else did he know? Did he know the password too? Hermione chewed her lip, she knew that hearing that Draco, of all people, had learned the location of the Common Room would be a serious cause for aggravation amongst her housemates. They would feel threatened by it. They would probably see it as Slytherin having some sort of advantage over them. None of them knew where the Slytherin Common Room was. Well…that wasn't quite true now that she thought about it. Harry and Ron knew, they had actually been in there once, and of course Hermione herself knew roughly where it was, it was marked on the…then she remembered the map on the wall of the Prefects' Common Room.

She turned to Draco. "You sod!" she laughed and slapped him playfully on the chest, making him wince, "Sources? You just read the Prefect's map!"

Draco grinned at her. "I was wondering when you were going to remember that."

'Git!' Hermione shook her head. He had had her going for a moment. Of course it made sense now, as a prefect, he had known the location of their Common Room for over a year now, he was supposed to know. Hermione was still confused however, Draco knew where Gryffindor was, so where was he leading her? She was about to ask him again when he suddenly turned and tugged her toward the wall. Draco lifted a tapestry and revealed a hidden doorway. He opened it to reveal a narrow passage, leading to a very steep set of stone steps.

"What the hell is this place?" she asked him as he ushered her inside.

"A short cut," was his answer.

Draco closed the door behind them. Torches flared to life along the walls as if on command. Hermione's eyes scanned the passage. It was dark and dusty, and home to about a thousand spiders if the amount of cobwebs was anything to go by. It didn't look like a very popular short cut.

"Why are we going this way?" said Hermione, turning to look at him.

Draco shrugged. "Well, this way is quicker," he said simply, pointing down the passage to the stairs, "Those will lead us right up to the seventh floor."

Hermione thought about it, seeing as how they were already on the fourth floor and that they had gone out of their way quite a bit to get here, she doubted if bypassing a couple of staircases would justify his assessment. Still, there were less prying eyes here and, even though he had denied it, she could tell that having everyone staring at him was hard for Draco to bear.

She decided not to mention it. "Oh," she said, "I didn't realise that," she stepped to the side and pointed down the corridor, "After you."

The passage was so narrow that they had to proceed in single file. Draco moved ahead of her and took her by the hand to lead her on. They kicked up a lot of dust as they passed. It tickled her throat and made Hermione cough slightly as they turned to climb the stairs. They were steep but not so much so as to be all that hard to climb.

"How did you find this?" Hermione asked, enjoying a close up view of Draco's rear end as he climbed ahead of her.

"Exploring," he answered her, "you'd be amazed at just how many hidden corridors and passages this place has when you take the time to look for them."

They reached the top of the stairs to find themselves facing a brick wall. Hermione frowned and looked to Draco to see him running his fingers across the brickwork as though searching for something. After a moment, his fingers paused and pressed in. "Here we are," he said as the wall parted. Draco took Hermione's hand and led her along another passage, similar to the lower one, which ended in a dusty wooden door. He heaved the door open and Hermione stepped out after him to find herself on the seventh floor, just beside the portrait of Albrecht the Idiot, who was busily painting the tree beside him bright yellow. "Voila!" Draco said with an air of triumph.

Hermione smiled at him, and then paused to brush the dust off her robes. She looked over at Draco, hearing him snigger. "What?"

"You've got cobwebs in your hair," he said, still grinning as he started to beat the dust from the long black cloak that he seemed to wear perpetually these days.

"Shit!" Hermione hissed and turned her attention to her hair. She tugged clumps of stick grey cobweb from her hair. 'Damn, why must my hair be so damned frizzy?' It wasn't easy to tell the difference between hair and cobweb. She lowered her hands. "Did I get it all?" she asked.

Draco looked up. "No, not even close," he drew his wand and aimed at her, "here, let me…"

"No!" Hermione shrieked, throwing her arms up in front of her face and stepping back. "Don't…please!"

Draco stared, open mouthed at her. He lowered his wand. "I was only going to help you," he said, sounding startled.

Hermione kept her eyes focussed on his wand as she lowered her arms. She gulped and took a deep breath to steady herself. "I know," she breathed, "I know…just don't do it like that."

"Like what?"

"Don't use magic."

"Why?"

Hermione looked into his curious eyes and felt her throat stiffen. "Just…don't, please?" She still couldn't bring herself to tell him why.

Draco frowned at her. "Have it your way then," he said, pocketing his wand. "Sort it out yourself if you're going to be like that." He sounded annoyed at her.

Hermione stepped toward him. "Draco, I'm sorry…I just…it's just, I don't like people pointing wands at me, that's all."

"I would have thought that you'd at least trust me by now," he said sulkily.

Hermione reached out and took his hand. "I do…really…I do trust you, Draco. Just…don't point your wand at me, ok?"

He looked at her, frowning. It was clear to her that he didn't understand, but there wasn't anything else for it. After a few, hard moments, he nodded. "Ok then. Come here," he pulled her head down and started picking at her hair. He was gentle, barely tugging at her hair as he removed the spider webs. Hermione smiled at him as he finished and stepped back. "There," he said, "all gone!" His tone sounded slightly forced.

"Thank you," she said meekly. The look in his eyes tugged at her heart: he was hurt and she knew it. He really thought that she didn't trust him. Hermione couldn't bear it, he was wrong, she did trust him. "Draco," she wanted to tell him the truth but the words wouldn't come.

"Yes?" he asked.

Hermione tried again to start to explain to him about her illness, but her mouth just wouldn't cooperate. She gave up; if she couldn't tell him that she trusted him, she would show him. She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as hard as she could. She held the kiss just long enough for his arms to encircle her before she pulled away. Draco gazed at her, his eyes twinkling in the afternoon sunlight. He seemed to have gotten the message, all trace of pain was gone from his face.

"Come on," he whispered, turning and taking her hand to lead her to Gryffindor. They walked slowly, hand in hand back to the staircases. Only a couple of people saw them, but they stared enough to make it seem like there were hundreds of them. Draco held Hermione's hand all the way until they reached the landing below the Portrait Hole. This was as far as he could go. Hermione was sure that the rumours of the two of them had already reached Gryffindor. It was nothing short of pure luck that they hadn't run into any more of them on their way here. Hermione stopped and turned to him. "Thanks," she said, releasing his hand, "well…I guess I'll see you later?"

Draco nodded and lifted her hand to kiss it before he turned and left. Hermione stood watching him retreat down the stairs until he disappeared. She sighed. 'Here we go!'

Hermione walked to the Fat Lady, almost whispered the password and climbed inside. The Common Room was a noisy bustle. Gryffindor was getting ready for the first Quidditch match of the season. The floor was littered with badges and brightly coloured rosettes. One entire wall was taken up by an enormous gold and scarlet banner with the words 'Go Gryffindor Go' emblazoned on it. Seven fierce looking lions were prowling and snarling around them, occasionally pausing to roar out the name of one of the team's players. Dean Thomas, the self professed Gryffindor artist, was putting the finishing touches on the last of the lions, which roared Harry's name every five seconds, and was the first person to become aware of Hermione's presence. He dropped his wand and stared at her.

One by one, the others began to notice her too, with much the same result. In seconds, every conversation had ground to a halt, every eye had turned to stare at her. None of them spoke, the power of speech seeming beyond them. Hermione sighed, she was in no mood for this. Deciding not to even try to face them, she merely rolled her eyes and headed for the stairs. Finding her bedroom blissfully deserted, she hurled herself onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Automatically, she started to take stock of the situation, trying to be rational. First, relief, neither Harry nor Ron had been there. Hermione remembered hearing Katie Bell say something about a last minute team practice before the game against Slytherin. She wondered how long it would be before they got back and found out. The others would certainly tell them in short order. Her mind froze as she tried to imagine their reaction.

She sighed, she was going to do herself no good thinking like this. Maybe she should confront them, tell them face to face. But, given the fact that every conversation she had had with them in the last month had ended in a row, she decided against trying. The row would arrive on its own this time, and she was in no hurry to encourage it. She sighed again and looked for something else to occupy her attention. Her eyes fell on the book on her locker, the book that she was supposed to be helping Ginny to understand. It had been over a week since Ginny had last asked her about it, or since Hermione had even thought about it. She picked it up and twirled it idly in her hands. She didn't feel much like studying, but she supposed she had better hurry on and get it back to Ginny, and reading would distract her and pass the time until dinner. She heard voices from the Common Room below. They were too muffled for her to make out what they were saying, but in her head, she could imagine the conversations.

'Hermione and Malfoy? No, never…you must have got the wrong end of the stick.'

'I'm telling you I saw them, cosy as you like.'

'No…I don't believe it, not Hermione.'

'I know what I saw…'

Hermione snarled to herself and turned onto her side. 'Ignore them,' she told herself. 'You're doing what makes you happy for a change, if they can't handle it, that's their problem!' The thought sounded harsher than she was really feeling, and startled her a bit, but it calmed her mind. Pushing the sounds from downstairs away, she turned her full attention to the book. She opened it and was about to skip ahead to the page she had last read when she noticed the inscription on the inside cover:

To my dearest Jeanette,

Your heart is pure.

Father X

Beneath the signature, three strange glyphs were drawn in a carefully arranged triangular pattern. And below them in the same strong hand,

And to Robert in your turn,

Estna volde calerenal.

Hermione smiled, those few words meant something to her. They told Hermione that this book was old. It had passed to Etean from this woman, Jeanette, and to her from her father, at least two generations of history bound in leather and ink. Hermione mouthed the words of the final line. She hadn't the slightest clue as to their meaning, but the hand that had written them was so strong and clear that it moved her just to look at them. This book had a story all of its own. It was little wonder that Etean had charmed it to prevent it being stolen. Of all the things that boy had done, that one she understood. Jeanette? Who was she that had possessed this book before Etean? What fate had befallen her? Did this book know? Could it tell her? Hermione laughed at the absurdity of the questions and dismissed them. Nobody had ever understood her love of books, but they just didn't get it. Books weren't just pages and words, they were something more. All books had a history, a story to tell, their own mystery to uncover, one only need look for it. That search, hunting for knowledge amongst the words had always kept Hermione spellbound, it had a magic all of its own. Smiling, she opened the book at the marked page and continued to read where she had left off.

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Etean sat in his bedroom, alone, his fingers steepled in front of his eyes. He was concentrating on the sound of the clock ticking in the background as he tapped the tips of his index fingers off one another. Tick…tap…tick…tap, the slow rhythm slowed his mind. Thoughts and theories, ideas and fragments shifted about inside his head at a more manageable rate. Something felt wrong, but he couldn't figure it out. On the surface, and even down at the level that he normally operated on, all was well. The time was fast approaching for things to enter their final stage, but the plan was on track, so what was bugging him?

Loose ends, that was the answer, there were too many of them. They existed on all sides and each time he pulled on one, another two unravelled to take its place. It was starting to get annoying. He hated this point in the game. It was now that things started to take shape, people were just settling their pieces, getting ready to make their final moves. The problem was positioning oneself so that you weren't lost in the forest for the trees. Etean took a breath and started to lay it out again in his mind.

Draco, priority number one…Etean sighed, the boy had been through seven kinds of hell since this had started, and it wasn't over yet. Etean marvelled at how well he was holding together in the face of everything. His future contained no certainty other than pain, and he knew it, yet was managing to grow in spite of it. He wasn't near ready yet, but he was getting there.

Voldemort…his plans outside of the Ascension, whatever they were, seemed unchanged. The Death Eater attacks continued apace, still random, still lacking in any sensible pattern. They had been like this for quite a while now. Etean sighed, too many attacks, the pattern carried on for too long. Death Eaters were cold, confident and lethal, but they were only human. Maintaining their current level for much longer was impossible if costly mistakes were to be avoided. Voldemort was not a fool, he knew this all too well. Something was bound to change and soon, but what? Thus far Voldemort had kept his other allies out of it, presumably due to the fact that most of them were less…surgical than the Death Eaters. They were unpredictable and could prove to be hard to control, but they were there, an untapped resource. Etean pushed the theorising aside, the pattern wouldn't hold, needs must out. All of the impetus for the change was there. He had only to be ready for whatever came of it.

The Ministry…was hanging in there…just. Every day the Daily Prophet carried reports about the movements and daily business of the Minister and his staff. Every day there was some other image of Cornelius Fudge shaking hands with some old pensioner, or kissing a small child, always with a broad smile and a wave for the camera, always in public, in the open, unafraid. That was the message he was trying to send: 'The Ministry is coping with the crisis, and we are not scared!' Etean scoffed because it appeared to be working, and that was the funny thing. Listening in on conversations as he walked the halls, invisible in plain sight, Etean had a fair knowledge of the mood of the other students. Most of them were swallowing the pile of crap that Fudge was serving up daily and were remaining confident. It elevated Etean's impression of the Minister of Magic up a notch, if only the merest notch. Nobody seemed to spot the Aurors in the background of every photo, guarding their Minister from the world, no one noticed that Fudge's smile was plastic, forced and fake. For the ministry too, the holding pattern was starting to crumble, it was a matter of when and not if they broke down.

The Circle…continued as normal. All reports from Poliakov were that the negotiations were unfolding by the numbers, each delegation playing their part as though following a script. The goal that Poliakov had been working on for over two years, his grand legacy to the world, was finally within sight, though the timing could prove awkward from Etean's perspective. The rest of the Council and the members were all in place, watching what needed to be watched, doing what needed to be done. They were ready…but readiness without action could lead to complacency, and that could lay waste to everything they had worked for. That couldn't be allowed to happen.

Nott…he was so worked up trying to talk Etean out of his demand for a meeting with the Death Eaters that he was starting to sound pathetic, which meant that he was becoming malleable. Etean was no closer to figuring out what Nott Senior was playing at, but, for the moment, that was immaterial.

Granger…she was a problem, when had she not been? An itch just begging to be scratched. For the millionth time Etean allowed the thought of eliminating her altogether play out in his head, but the result was always the same…bad idea! Etean was loathe to admit it, but Draco needed Granger. If it weren't for her, he would likely have gone under by now. So, she was in the game, necessary, but...Etean shook his head. Sooner or later, Madam Pomfrey or Dumbledore would figure out the true nature of her condition and then things would start to get messy.

Etean…he laughed. He was in the middle of everything, getting pulled in a dozen different directions at once. Was he in over his head? Maybe, but he could hold his breath for a little longer. Not all of the pieces were on the board yet. He would have to wait for that moment, for when the time came to roll the dice and then play it out. The right moves would become clear at that moment, not before, they had in the past, they would this time. Of all things, he was sure of that.

Etean cast his eyes up at the ceiling. "Anything else, Father?" he said quietly. "Any other problems you feel I should deal with?" Silence answered him, in the end he laughed.

Etean remained in place, thinking until the door of the bedroom behind him opened and Draco entered. Even before he looked around, Etean knew what he was feeling…the childlike joy he always felt after spending time with Granger, but this time tinged with a little sorrow, a touch of contemplation.

"What are you doing sitting here all alone?" he asked before Etean had the chance to speak.

"Just…thinking," Etean replied. "What's up with you?" he asked, standing up.

Draco paused. Etean saw the image of Granger float into his head, followed by a couple of dozen others. "Nothing," Draco lied, "Have you seen Pansy in the last hour?"

Etean shook his head. "No, why?"

Draco paused. "I need to talk to her," he shut his eyes for a moment, then sighed, "You remember…the bomb I have to drop?"

"Ah," Etean nodded, "Well, I haven't seen her. You've tried her room?"

"Yes, just now, no sign."

"She'll surface sooner or later," Etean shrugged, "she always does." He tugged off his tie. "You hungry?"

Draco shook his head. "No, not especially."

"Good, because we are skipping dinner."

Draco's eyebrows rose in shock. "Are we?"

"Yes, because we have a lot of work to do." From his thoughts, it was clear that Draco didn't want to skip dinner and miss the chance to stare at Granger for an hour, but he wasn't going to be that lucky. "We are behind schedule…and that needs to be remedied."

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Draco clenched both fists and concentrated with all his might. His entire mind was bent on sensing the coin, touching it, holding it. But it was to no avail. Just as it had the last time, just as it did every time, the coin fell to the floor the moment Etean released it. Draco snarled in aggravation and then hissed in agony as white hot pain exploded in his temple. He staggered back and caught a pillar for support.

"I…I give up," he panted, "I just can't bloody do it."

Etean strode forward. The coin leaped into his waiting hand as he passed over it. "You can do it, you almost had it that time…there was a definite pause before the coin dropped."

Draco scoffed. "Yeah right, what about half a second?"

"More like a third of one I'd say, but it is an improvement."

Etean looked into Draco's eyes inquisitively and then conjured a silver goblet of the vile healing potion for Draco. 'How does he do that?' Draco wondered as he took the goblet and downed its contents in one go.

'Not easily,' Etean answered him mentally, making Draco wince, the potion hadn't done its job yet. Etean returned to the far pillar, his hand extended, palm up to show Draco the coin. "Ready to try again?" he asked.

Draco shook his head and dropped the goblet, knowing that it would vanish before it hit the floor. "No, not yet," he felt exhausted, "Can't I have a rest first?"

Etean cocked his head to the side for a moment, then nodded. "Maybe you should take a breather." He waved his hand and conjured a table and two chairs out of nowhere. Draco happily sat down. He leaned back and closed his eyes as he listened to the throbbing in his skull fade away. After maybe five minutes of silence he felt something of himself again, but didn't want to go straight back to training.

Etean must have been watching his thoughts. "How are you now?"

"Better…a bit." Draco's head was clearer, though his stomach still rumbled. He was really starting to regret skipping dinner.

Etean nodded. "You are definitely getting stronger. That potion was less than half as strong as the ones I gave you before."

Draco winced as a flare of pain stabbed at him. "Still hurts like a bitch though."

"You are, and it will hurt until your nerves have had a chance to adjust completely. It is clear though that the sensitive areas in your brain are becoming more resilient. You should be feeling stronger, more in control of the power."

Draco nodded. "I think I am. It's certainly easier to do things," his eyes darted to Etean's hand, which still held the coin, "Some things anyway," he added hastily.

Etean leaned forward. "Such as?" he sounded interested.

"Well, I managed to track Hermione down earlier," he tapped his temple, "just with this."

Etean paused for a moment, and then nodded. "Good!"

"Yeah," Draco felt pleased with himself, "I just opened my self up, thought about her and…boom, an image of the Hospital Wing popped into my head."

Etean raised an eyebrow. "She was in the hospital?"

"Yes," Draco nodded, "Madam Pomfrey was checking her over…after her injury."

Etean waved his hand, a goblet appeared and he took a sip. "I see…did she ever tell you anything about that?"

Draco shook his head. "No," he said, remembering the annoyance in her voice, "She said she was tired of people pestering her, so I left it alone. She did tell me that she doesn't remember it though, and that's good enough for me."

"Fair enough," Etean said, though he seemed contemplative.

Draco swallowed, Etean contemplating rarely meant anything good. "You're not…concerned about her, are you?"

Etean turned to him suddenly, then laughed. "Concerned? No! Curious…yes. It's been a while since something has baffled me. But meh," he waved the subject off, "forget it, it doesn't really matter for us, does it?"

"No, I guess it doesn't," 'It matters to me though,' Draco thought to himself, not caring if Etean was snooping about in his head. Etean was baffled eh? 'Good, see how he likes it.' Then a thought occurred to Draco, a question he had meant to ask Etean some days ago.

"Etean?"

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you a question? There's something I don't understand."

Etean scoffed. "Just one thing eh? Lucky you."

"Well yes…one thing in particular anyway…about the Ascension."

Etean's tone and manner lost all joviality, he sat forward and nodded. "Ok then, what about it?"

"Well, I was just wondering…how you…I mean what the plan is. How do you plan on letting Voldemort…get me?"

"You want specifics?" Etean asked, serious as anything. Draco nodded. "Alright then, the plan, such as it is, is pretty simple. At some point in the future, when we decide that you're ready, we will arrange for you to leave Hogwarts," he paused and then shrugged, "The reason for your departure will be irrelevant so long as it's believable. Once away from here and out from under the protection of Dumbledore, it will be a trivial matter for Voldemort to capture you. We'll set something up of course, something to make it look real."

"And then?"

Etean paused. "And then he takes you to Etheros and attempts to Ascend."

"That's another bit of a grey area. How exactly will he take me to Etheros? That book you gave me mentioned something about 'Gateways', but it wasn't very clear."

Etean paused in contemplation. Draco got the impression he was deciding what to say and what to hide. 'Damn him and his eternal secrets!'

"The Gateways," Etean began, ignoring Draco's thought if he was aware of it, "are ancient portals. They are the only link between this world and Etheros. Only by activating one of them may a person may travel to that world."

"Voldemort knows how to do that…activate the Gateways?"

Etean nodded. "We are fairly confident that he does. Some of the Gateways, five to be precise, were unearthed centuries ago, some of them as long ago as the days of the empire. Wizards have been studying them and Etheros itself for centuries…though, not so much lately. For the most part they were of little interest to the Circle…just interesting artefacts. Then we learned of Voldemort's plans to Ascend, and everything changed. The Circle began an intensive search to learn more, we studied their creation, their operation…everything we could find, but" he sighed, "the only real discovery we made, if you would call it that, was the location of four other, previously unknown Gateways."

"Voldemort doesn't know about those ones?"

Etean shook his head. "No, not so far as we can tell, but he still has five to choose from, so that's not much of an advantage. We have tried to learn more about them, about their vulnerabilities and such. Unfortunately, the damned things seem to be all but indestructible," he paused to shrug, "So, we fell back to the old reliable…we watch. Circle members have been stationed at each Gateway ever since Voldemort's return, but, thus far we have no proof that he has used any of them." Etean shook his head. "But, for our plan to succeed, his origin point is immaterial. We know where he will arrive because there is only one functioning gate left in Etheros."

"At the base of Mt. Cruentus?"

"Got to the part about the mountain have you?" he paused again, "Mt. Cruentus…the mountain of blood…" he said, almost silently. "Yes," Etean shook himself, "the portal is there, buried at the base of the mountain in what remains of a ruined temple. The temple along with everything else for miles around it was destroyed by a volcanic eruption three hundred years ago. Only the inherent power of the Gateway allowed what little remains to survive."

Draco nodded, half sorry he had asked. The explanation only allowed him to visualise about his coming doom more clearly. The morbid thoughts continued. "And he'll take me to Etheros first, when he captures me? Then do all the rest?"

Etean shrugged slightly. "That is up to him I'm afraid. Only the final stages, the Consecration and the Sacrifice, need be performed on the altar atop Mt. Cruentus. The rest could just as easily be done here. Voldemort will have it all planned out though, of that there is no doubt, you will simply have to endure it."

'Easier said,' Draco sat back and flexed the fingers of his right hand. They moved almost fluidly now, though were still as numb as the day they had died. He looked back to Etean. "Where will you be during all this?"

Etean looked up at him. "As close to the heart of it as I can manage. I said I'd be with you to the end, and I will. I'll be there to…to do what I can."

Draco sat forward and chewed on his thumb in contemplation, it was a filthy habit that his father had tried to drive out of him years ago. His father! Draco would have preferred to avoid thinking about him, but now…"Will Lucius be there?"

"I honestly don't know, Draco."

'Most likely he'll have a front row seat!' Draco shut his eyes and struggled to bury his anger. 'The closer the better,' he thought. 'That way I'll take him with me when I go!' That thought seemed to settle his mind. The image of his demise played out before his eyes. He looked on it with a strange form of detachment, watched it happen as though he were a spectator. He watched Voldemort fail, saw his father fall along with him…victory, and death. He saw his own life fade out…no grand speeches, no final words, just the end of Draco. He imagined Etean standing over his broken body. Then onward, he pictured his funeral, everyone, what few had come, dressed in black and gathered around a simple black coffin. The scene was pathetic, like the last page of a badly written book, the author desperately trying to evoke some tiny drop of emotion. He could see the looks of false grief in their eyes and couldn't bear the thought of it.

"Etean, I want you to promise me something."

"What?"

"If…when…I die…don't tell anyone."

"What?"

Draco looked him in the eye. "If we do it…if we beat him. Never say what happened to me…not to anyone. Take the credit for the victory yourself or something. Never let anyone know the truth about how I died, or even that I'm dead. Just dig a hole somewhere and bury me…no gravestone, no funeral, no mourners…nothing."

Etean looked at him for a long moment, and then nodded. "If that is what you want, I will see to it, but," he sat up, suddenly chipper and alert again, "lets not dwell on that now. We have work to do tonight…and there's the quidditch match tomorrow and a whole house full of Gryffindors to aggravate." He laughed and shook his head. "Do you know, I think that this school is really starting to get to me. I'm even starting to think like a student for heaven's sake!"

Etean stood up. Draco shook himself and followed suit. Etean banished the table with a gesture and then returned to work, holding the coin in the air.

"Concentrate," he repeated the command, "try to feel its weight as though it's in your hand."

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Hermione woke with a start, just as she always did. Sweat was dripping from her brow, her nightshirt was sticking to her. She sat up, willing the haunting image of her dream to leave her conscious mind. After a moment, the eyes faded. They would be back tonight, she knew that, but the day at least, was still her own. She ran her fingers through her hair as she looked at the clock. It was just after six in the morning, she had been 'asleep' for only two hours, but that was all she was going to get. There was no going back to sleep now, she was free of the dream for the moment and that was how it was going to stay.

She got up as quietly as she could and headed for the shower. Lavender snorted heavily as she passed her bed, but didn't wake. 'Good,' Hermione thought, 'at least this way I won't have to talk to her.' She felt miserable, the weight of her suddenly very complicated life bearing her down. Last night had been amongst the longest of her life; it had started bad and gotten worse with alarming speed. She had managed to stay clear of any of the other Gryffindors for a while, but she could still hear them whispering. Try as she had to ignore it, it had started to wear her down. Then there was dinner! She wouldn't have gone at all if she hadn't thought she'd see Draco there. That was when things went from annoying to bad. He hadn't shown up! She had been looking forward to seeing him again, feeling him take some of the pressure off her, but instead she was alone with the whole school staring at her.

Her fellow Gryffindors seemed to have been trying to tell her something. A three foot gap had surrounded her at the Gryffindor table for the whole of dinner. Hermione had done her best to ignore the situation for as long as she could, forcing down bite after bite of a meal that she really didn't want. She wasn't about to let everyone see her crack. But after half an hour of sly stares and whispers, half an hour of feeling like an outcast, sitting alone at the end of the Gryffindor table, Hermione had given in and left to return to her dormitory, not that it felt like hers anymore.

Learning of the…whatever word would best describe her situation with Draco had, in one evening, changed Gryffindor Tower from being her home to being merely a place that she lived in. Her fellow Gryffindors had divided themselves neatly into two groups, those that stared at her like she had two heads, as though she were some form of traitor, and those that had chosen to simply blank her. She wasn't surprised by their reaction, not really. But Harry had fallen into the latter category, and that did come as a shock. Their paths had finally crossed when she had returned to the Common Room after dinner. He had looked at her when she came in, and then walked straight past her as though she wasn't even there.

Hermione fought to keep herself under control as she turned the shower on. 'You and Harry haven't been on speaking terms for a while,' she told herself, 'so his behaviour shouldn't have surprised you. He's mad, give him time.' She was right, over the last few weeks she had gone out of her way to not talk to him or Ron, so it was only natural for him to do the same. But the more she thought about it, the worse she felt. His reaction had revealed something deeper in him. It just didn't fit. It wasn't how things had ever been between them, not even since they had fallen out. Sure, Ron had made a few attempts to make things better after their row, but not Harry, that wasn't him. He had always been quieter, more reserved. His behaviour toward her had been cold, aloof, but he was still there. Before last night, he would have at least acknowledged her presence, however begrudgingly, but he hadn't. She hadn't been prepared for that. A row, yes, screaming and yelling and anger, yes, she would have settled for an angry glare or two, but not nothing, nothing hurt.

The truth, once she had been able to admit it to herself, was that she had wanted Harry to be mad at her, to yell at her, to rant and rave and start a holy war over her relationship with Draco, or whatever it was. That was the reaction she had expected, no, hoped her friend would have had, but he hadn't. A tear rolled out of her eye. His behaviour toward her left only one conclusion: her friend was gone, forever! She had driven him away. 'No!' Hermione forced herself to keep calm. She struggled to think sensibly. Their row wasn't what had taken him from her, and Draco wouldn't be the thing that kept him away. Harry had done it himself…all by himself. He had gone away all on his own, and last night proved that he didn't want to come back. She shoved her face into the steaming water and let it burn away the tears. Harry was gone, forever taken from her by the pain in his heart. There was no changing it, so she'd have to live with it.

Hermione shut the water off and blinked as she searched for her towel. She dried herself off as quickly as she could, all the while avoiding her own reflection in the bathroom mirrors. She returned to her room, glad to find Lavender and Pavarti still soundly asleep in their beds. She dressed herself in silence, happy to be free of her uniform today. She didn't feel like a Gryffindor right now, so wearing the crest didn't appeal to her. Choosing comfortable clothes made her feel at least human, just. She hugged herself as she crept down the stairs, wanting not to feel like the enemy, if only for a moment, but fate, it seemed, wasn't through with her yet. She entered the Common Room and stopped cold. "Ron!" she whispered in amazement. What was he doing up so early?

Ron turned toward her and she instantly knew the answer. Ron wasn't up early, he was up late. He was still wearing his quidditch robes from yesterday's training session. One look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know about why he was here. The obvious pain on his face stabbed into her heart.

Slowly, as though he was very tired, Ron stood up. He shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before he spoke. "Is it true?" his voice sounded shaky.

"Ron," Hermione started. What had he heard? Which rumour had he chosen to believe? Hermione couldn't answer, she suddenly hadn't the energy for this conversation, "let's not do this now ok?"

Ron stepped toward her. "Is it true?" his voice had risen, betraying the emotions he was struggling to control.

Hermione sighed and looked him in the eye. "Yes," she said simply.

Ron responded as though someone had just punched him in the gut. His legs went out from under him and he simply buckled into the chair he had just vacated. He leaned forward and held his head in his hands. "I knew it," he was talking to himself, "I mean I knew it," he looked up at her, not bothering to hide the tears, "They told me…everyone told me. But I needed to hear you say it, I needed…" he tailed off and buried his head in his hands again. Hermione moved toward him on instinct and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Ron…"

"Don't." Ron shook her off and stood up suddenly. Hermione had to leap back from him to avoid being knocked over. "Just…don't touch me."

Ron turned his back on her and walked away. He stood facing the wall in silence for almost a full minute. To Hermione, it felt more like an hour. She stood there, watching him, and then finally couldn't take it anymore. She turned to leave when she heard him start to laugh quietly. Hermione froze in place, Ron was laughing at her?

"Ron?" she asked in disbelief as she turned back to him.

Ron still had his back to her, but he was definitely laughing. There was very little sound but his shoulders were shaking up and down. "I am such an idiot," he said, silent laughter still shaking his voice, "I mean, how did I miss it? It was right in front of me the whole time," he turned round slowly. "You've been on his side for months now, haven't you?"

Hermione took a moment to fathom what he had just said. "His side? What…"

"Haven't you?" Ron bellowed. Hermione saw the pain washed from his eyes by pure rage.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she asked, starting to feel anger herself.

Ron sneered. "Come off it, Hermione, I'm not as dumb as you think I am."

"I don't think…"

Ron ignored her. "Or maybe I am…I mean it was so fucking obvious. You've been acting weird for weeks…disappearing on your own for hours at a time, picking fights with your friends for no reason. What is it? Did you enjoy it? Do you and…that prat Malfoy giggle and roll around the floor laughing at how well you'd hidden your sordid little secret from everyone?"

"Sordid?" Hermione's anger stirred; the growling sound in her ears once again. It rose quickly and threatened to overwhelm her. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. "I don't know what planet you think you are living on, Ron, but it isn't this one. Picking fights? What fights have I been picking?"

Ron reeled back and waved his fists in the air. "What fights?" he raved, "What fights she says," he turned to glare at her, anger and pain filing his eyes, "Hermione, you haven't so much as said two words to me or Harry in weeks and…"

"Haven't I?" Hermione roared over him, "And whose fault was that, Ron? Who goaded who into doing something that we both know was stupid, cruel and just plain wrong? And when one of us came to their senses, who was it that hexed who?" Ron glared at her, only succeeding in making her angrier. "Answer me Ron, which of us turned on the other? Which of us picked the fight with someone they were supposed to care about?"

The anger seemed to fade out of Ron. He stepped toward her. "I do care about you."

Hermione scoffed and spread her arms wide. "You have a funny way of showing it."

Ron lowered his head and shut his eyes. Hermione heard him sigh heavily as she dropped into the nearest armchair. The anger faded along with the growl, leaving her alone. Ron pressed his fingers into his eyes and wiped at tears that had appeared there. "I never could show you," he whispered so quietly that Hermione could barely here him. "I wanted to…so many times…for so long, but I just couldn't. I always hoped you would figure it out on your own, I mean, you are supposed to be the smart one, right?" He shook his head, "And now, I've lost you." He paused to wipe at his eyes again.

"Ron…" she whispered.

"I always figured I would you know?" he laughed joylessly, "That's the really funny thing. I always pictured that I would find some way to screw up and break your heart. You'd cry, you'd hate me forever, and then you'd move on…find someone else, and then I'd hate him…and I'd hate myself more for hurting you." He laughed again, and then his face hardened. "Pathetic isn't it? But that's the future I pictured for us," anger seemed to fill him again, "But I never…for one second, imagined that you would beat me to it…and with Malfoy? Fuck!" the last word was a whisper.

Hermione stood up and walked toward him. "I didn't do this to hurt you, Ron."

"Well, you did," he said so suddenly that she jumped, "You've hurt me, more than you will ever know." He stared at her, his eyes lost all of their lustre. It appeared as though they were carved of stone. "I don't know you anymore."

Ron stormed past her and disappeared up the stairs. Hermione felt sick. She had known for a while that Ron had a crush on her; he wasn't ever really any good at hiding it. She had never felt the same way, he was her friend and that was it. She had always been careful not to hurt him, hoping that it was nothing more than a crush that he would grow out of in time. And now she had broken his heart? What kind of person did that make her? He was supposed to be her friend, despite all the arguments, despite them not talking to one another, he was still her friend, wasn't he? Hermione chewed her lip and fought to stop the tears from breaking through. She failed when the realisation hit her; no, Ron wasn't her friend either, not anymore. Both of her best friends were gone! Both of them had decided to turn their backs on her!

She stood up again and started to pace. Was it worth it? Was Draco worth it? Yes, he made her happy. When she was with him, she felt good in spite of everything else. But right now she wasn't happy, how could she be? She had managed to drive away every single person in her life that she had counted as a friend. Now she had no one left…apart from Draco. He was still there, but was he enough? Was what little happiness she could have with him worth tearing all of her friendships apart?

The question was still bouncing around inside her head when she heard movement from above her. She didn't know who it was and she didn't care, she didn't want to talk to anyone. She needed to get out, get some air to clear her head so she could think. She clambered out of the Portrait Hole and all but ran down the stairs, headed nowhere in particular. She wandered the corridors for hours, not really paying attention to where she was going. Time seemed to rush through her, sucking her further and further in despair. Then somehow, just after nine in the morning, she found herself back at the Gryffindor table.

Hermione stared at the hunk of grapefruit in front of her, not able to work up the strength to eat a single bite. The few other Gryffindors at the table were giving her a wide berth again, not that she felt able to speak to any of them anyway. She didn't have the will to speak to anyone. She was only still sitting here because she honestly couldn't think of anywhere else to go. Her eyes scanned the Slytherin table. Draco still wasn't there. Millicent Bullstrode was though, she and Annabelle Turner were talking to one another, but both were staring at her. Hermione shut her eyes and lowered her head. This was too much.

"Good morning." Hermione looked up as Ginny clambered over the seat opposite her and calmly started to prepare her breakfast.

Hermione balked, was it possible? Could Ginny not know?

After an expectant pause, "Huh," Ginny sniffed, "well good morning to you too, Gin, how are you this morning? What, me? I'm fine, a little nervous about my first game as Chaser, but we're ready. You?"

Hermione blinked; she shook her head. "What?"

Ginny set her elbows on the table and looked at her. "It's called small talk, Hermione. You know, polite little chit chat?"

"What?" Hermione shook her head again. "Oh right, sorry…good morning," she caught on at last.

Ginny frowned. "I could have sworn we already did that part…or I did anyway." She scooped up a mouthful of cereal. "Maybe," she said between chews, "I should just talk for both of us, if you can't keep up," she grinned.

Hermione smiled too, for a moment, she couldn't help it. Ginny's humour was always so infectious. The smile faded. It was clear that Ginny didn't know about her and Draco. It was almost unbelievable, but it was the only explanation. Hermione had to tell her, she owed her that much. She leaned forward. "Gin, I have to tell you…"

"I know all about you and Malfoy, Hermione," she said simply, no hint of feeling in her voice. "What do you think I am, blind, deaf and dumb?"

Hermione felt shock freeze her insides. "You know? But then…"

"Why am I talking to you when none of the others are?" Ginny shrugged, "Simple, you're my friend."

Her friend? Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. "Then," she was almost afraid to say, "you aren't mad at me like everyone else?"

Ginny frowned and dropped her spoon. "Mad? No," she said, reaching out to touch Hermione's hand, "Not mad. Am I surprised...certainly…confused…definitely, but not mad." She gave Hermione's hand a little squeeze.

Hermione looked at Ginny's smiling eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Ginny was still her friend, she hadn't lost them all. She felt a tear fall and moved her hand quickly to catch it. "Shit," she whispered, "look at me, blubbing like an idiot. What's gotten into me?"

Ginny's smile faded. "That was what I was just about to ask, if you feel like explaining it to me that is."

"What exactly do you want me to explain?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "All of it, dummy. For a start…why Malfoy?"

'Not that question, please!' Hermione shut her eyes. "I don't know."

"Fair enough," Ginny said through another mouthful of cereal.

Hermione looked up, surprised. "What?"

"We don't always understand why we like someone, Hermione. Sometimes," she shrugged, "it just happens. I'm just glad that you're as confused as the rest of us."

"You can say that again."

"Ok then," Ginny continued, "next question: When?"

"When?"

"When did it start?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know…about a week ago I guess, but not really…it sort of started before that…" she lost track of her words and stopped.

Ginny took her hand again. "It's alright, I was just curious. So I take it that Malfoy was the mystery man we talked about last week?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes he was…do you see now why I didn't want to tell you?"

"I do," Ginny smiled, "but, do you remember what I said?" Another nod. "And does he?"

Hermione looked down at the table. "When I'm with him…yes he does…but," she was fighting off tears again as she thought about Harry, Ron and all the others, "is that enough? Is it worth it? I mean, everyone hates me because of this."

Ginny's eyes darted around the Gryffindor table. Hermione couldn't bring herself to look with her. "They don't hate you, Hermione. They're just shocked is all. They'll come around soon."

"Harry won't, or…or Ron."

Ginny sighed. "Ah yes, those two," she said in a rather sagely voice as she rested on her elbows, "I saw Ron a while ago, and I won't lie to you Hermione…he's a mess." Hermione's eyes slid closed. "He's carried a torch for you for a long time."

"I knew," Hermione said quietly.

"I know you did, so did I, and so did Harry, and so did Mom, and so did Dad…and…in fact," she smiled faintly, "I think Ron was the last one to figure it out," she laughed, then settled, "He's hurt, Hermione, but that isn't your fault. It isn't because it's Malfoy either, Ron would be hurt no matter who you were dating, because they weren't him." Ginny leaned forward and took her hand again, "And it wouldn't ever be him…would it?"

"No," Hermione said honestly, "it wouldn't. He's my friend…at least he was."

"He is still your friend," Ginny assured her, "And, sooner or later, he'll remember that. Harry will too."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so. He can't even stand to look at me for heaven's sake. I mean, he walked right past me last night as though I was a total stranger."

Ginny nodded. "He does that to everyone, Hermione."

"He does? To you too?"

"Yes...sometimes. Half the time he just sits on his own, not talking to anyone, and even when he is...he isn't." Ginny paused, a contemplative look came to her face. "Harry's…scared. He's been kicked in the teeth so often lately that he's starting to think that he's better off alone. His solution seems to be to push people away, to keep everyone at arms length, but it isn't just you, Hermione." She paused and shook her head. "He'll come around, too, it might take a little longer in his case, but he will, trust me."

Hermione smiled. "Since when did you become so smart?"

"I've always been smart, Hermione," Ginny answered in a huffy voice, "It's just you have never noticed before."

"Sorry," Hermione smiled, "but I'll know the next time you start pestering me to help you with your homework."

Ginny scowled and swallowed the last of her cereal. "Don't say that, I'd fail in no time without you. I'm just good at reading people." She smiled. "People are easy…books I have trouble with. Are you done?" She nodded at Hermione's still uneaten grapefruit. Hermione nodded and pushed it away. Ginny stood up. "Then do you fancy heading down to the pitch with me? I want to get in some last minute practice before the game. I wasn't joking when I said I was nervous."

Hermione scanned the Slytherin table again, still no sign of Draco. She sighed. "Ok then."

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Etean climbed the last of the stairs and stood in the shadow of the lowest platform, below the stands. He wasn't hiding, it was mere habit that guided his steps. His eyes scanned the air, noting every cloud, every ripple of wind that fluttered the banners.

"It's a nice day for it," he said aloud.

Nott stepped out from behind the edge of the stand. "How long did you know I was behind you?"

"For as long as you were behind me," Etean smiled, keeping his back to Nott, "You really should stop trying to get the better of me, Theo, it's getting boring."

"I wasn't trying to get the better of you, I was just wondering where you were going, the match isn't for an hour."

"True, it isn't, but we have been over this before, you and I. Where I go and why is not your concern."

Nott's response was interrupted as both boys turned their attention to the team tunnel. The doors were swinging open. Etean narrowed his eyes and brought the entryway into sharper focus as he spotted a small shape moving in the shadows. It moved forward and Etean smiled as he saw the morning sunlight bounce off Ginny's scarlet hair. Her orange robes set it off perfectly as she took to the air and began to soar and swoop all over the pitch.

"What is she doing?" Nott asked, Etean noted him stepping into the shadows, out of sight.

He sighed at the absurdity of the question. "Most people call it flying, Theo."

"Ha ha!" Nott answered sarcastically. Movement caught the corner of Etean's eyes. He turned his head to see Nott aiming his wand at the soaring Ginny, who still seemed to be unaware of their presence. "A Gryffindor Chaser, all on her own. Wouldn't it be a shame if she 'fell' off her broom with no one here to catch her?" He smiled viciously. "I wonder if I could hit her from here?" he said, his aim shifting to follow her movements.

Etean turned away from him. "And I wonder if you would bounce were I to toss you from the stands, Theo." Etean kept his tone calm and level, but Nott got the message. He swallowed and lowered his wand.

"Only a thought, I wasn't serious," he said, smiling awkwardly.

"Of course you weren't," Etean slapped his chest with the back of his hand, just hard enough to reinforce his earlier message, "Come on, let's leave her to it."

"You don't want to watch her fly? It might be useful to us to see her in action."

"Possible, but unlikely." Etean moved off, but stopped when he realised that Nott wasn't following. He turned to see him staring at the stand opposite. Etean followed his gaze, then immediately felt a surge of anger. 'Granger!' He stepped back to Nott and turned him round. "Tell me that you are not still fixating on that girl," he snapped.

Nott shrugged. "Haven't you heard? The whole school is interested in her today."

"Is that right?" Etean shook his head. "That's their problem, isn't it? Besides, something tells me that none of them are as 'interested' as you are, are they?"

"Maybe," Nott said, in a defiant tone, "but what's it to you?"

Etean took a breath. "Nothing," he said, spreading his arms, "Except of course that we have a deal, remember? You have a job to do for me, or did you forget?"

Nott paled. "No, but about that…"

"No 'about that' nothing, Theo. It's a simple job, something I want done, and you are going to do it if you want to be of any use to me, get it?"

"I get it. But, Etean," Nott was starting to sound shaky, "I told you, it isn't that simple."

"For Merlin's sake, Theo, just…contact…them! Start with your father," Etean pointed a finger at Nott's heart, "And don't you even try to tell me that you haven't got a way to get in touch with him."

Nott sighed. "That's just it I haven't. I have tried, but he won't answer me, I don't know why."

Etean looked him in the eye. Nott was on the edge, time to push! "Then try again…and again…and again, until he does answer you, Theo. This isn't a game, nor is it a test that you can pass or fail. You do this, or…" he sent a flash through his eyes, "or you will be of no use to me. Am I being clear, Theo?"

Nott swallowed, then nodded. "Crystal."

Etean smiled. "Good, because you should understand that until you finish this job, until you have done what I have told you to do, I own you. You are my property whether you like it or not. So," he jabbed a finger in the general direction of Granger in the stands, "hands off that one, or anyone else who doesn't give you a gilded invitation. I won't have your hormones, or your lack of sense getting in my way. Understand?" Nott nodded, "Right then," he reached up and slapped Nott gently on the jaw, "now let's go find the rest of this team of ours and then see if we can't beat the snot out of Gryffindor."

They left the stands and returned to Slytherin. Etean soon discovered that rounding the team up was a trivial matter, but getting them into the same room was another thing entirely. Annabelle still maintained the pretence of being annoyed with Nott, though Etean had noticed some odd noises from his room the previous evening so it was purely for show for pride's sake. Her fight with Blaise was no act however, nor was his with Nott. That left Etean, Stephen, Crabbe and Goyle as the only people who were on speaking terms with everyone else on the team. Not that they were speaking now, Crabbe and Goyle lacking the capacity, Stephen apparently lacking the will. Looking at them sitting around the wall of the changing rooms, Etean shook his head. Crabbe and Goyle were alone in the corner, hitting each other over the head with their Beater Mallets, while everyone else seemed to be staring into space. He sighed in annoyance. Blaise, the team captain, should have been spending his time mending bridges and shaping them into a team fit for a match, but he seemed to want to do nothing more than study his playbook.

'Well if he won't do it…' "Right, listen up," Etean shouted, making them all jump, "Everyone stop what they're doing and pay attention." He jabbed a finger at Stephen. "You," he pointed to the empty space between Nott and Annabelle, "sit there." Stephen opened his mouth, but never voiced his objection. Etean looked at him until he stood up, then turned to Crabbe and Goyle. "Sit!" he roared as though he was ordering a couple of wild dogs. The two huge lumps blinked, but obeyed.

At this point, Blaise stood up. "What the hell are you doing, Etean?" he said angrily.

"Your job," Etean barked at him, "because you don't seem to be doing it."

"I am doing it," Blaise gestured with his notes, "what does it look like I'm doing?"

Etean snatched the notes from him. "It looks like you are wasting your time," he waved the notes in Blaise's face, "It's too late for these, too late for studying plays and manoeuvres," he tossed the notes onto the floor, "What we know, we know and what we don't know, we are not going to learn in the next," he checked his watch, "twenty minutes. So forget the plans and start acting like a captain, get your team ready to play this game." Etean pointed at Nott, Stephen and Annabelle. "There are your Chasers, isn't there anything you should say to them before they go up against the opposition?"

Blaise bristled as he stared from Etean to the Chasers, then to Crabbe and Goyle, and then back to Etean. "They know all they need to know."

"Do they?" Etean asked him coldly.

Blaise ruffed up again, he turned to Nott. "Don't you?"

Nott sat up and nodded; Annabelle and Stephen followed suit. Blaise paused, unhappy with the response. He seemed to get the picture. "You had better," he addressed them all as one, "because Gryffindor have a stronger front line this year than I can remember them having any other year. Katie Bell has been at this for six years now, there isn't much she hasn't seen before. The other two are no slouches either," Etean turned his back and returned to his seat, "Roger Dillon is new, but he has some skill, and the Little Wea…" he glanced to Etean as he raised an eyebrow, "And…Ginny Weasley, is a former Seeker, which means she has the speed and the reflexes to cause us problems."

Blaise turned his attention to Crabbe and Goyle. "You two, the Gryffindor Beaters may not look like much, but they are pretty quick. You'll just have to let your muscle do the job for you. And keep your eye on Potter, keep him busy, a concussion wouldn't hurt either if you can manage it." The two great morons broke down into a fit of laughter at this. Blaise rounded on Etean. "Is that more like it?"

"It's more like something anyway, we'll see if it does the job."

Blaise shook his head. "Do I need to remind you to keep your eye on Potter as well?"

Etean shook his head. "I think I can remember that."

"Fine," Blaise clapped his hands, "Suit up, all of you!"

Fifteen minutes later, the team was standing in the centre of the pitch. Etean's eyes scanned the crowded stands. The Gryffindor and Slytherin sections were awash with colour, countless waving banners and fluttering flags everywhere. There were a decent few Gryffindor flags dotted amongst the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students too, he noticed. The Staff Stand was pretty crowded. Dumbledore was headed along the row, an owl perched on his arm. The life of the Headmaster didn't stop for Quidditch, Etean mused to himself. As he watched, the other staff started to stand to make room for the Headmaster to pass. Etean returned his attention to the game. He looked over at Nott beside him, noting his looking slightly uncomfortable. The other members of the team seemed tense as well, all of their bravado and big talk appearing to be based on pride rather than true confidence. Etean shook his head slightly and turned his attention to the opposing team. The first face he saw was Potter's. He was standing just behind and to the right of Katie Bell, staring straight ahead with no emotion on his face whatsoever. His eyes were impressive, no doubt about it, two violent green pits, completely devoid of feeling. Etean watched him as he moved his gaze slowly from one Slytherin to the next. One by one, Potter stared each of them down. Etean's gaze moved away from Potter to Weasley beside him. The contrast couldn't be more striking. Weasley looked like hell. Dark circles were cut into his face beneath his eyes, his skin was pale and pasty and he looked to be just about ready to keel over on the spot.

Madam Hooch swooped down on her broom and landed on the centre line. "All players shake hands!" she commanded.

Etean stepped forward to the line, spotting that, whether by accident or design, he was now standing opposite Ginny.

A tiny smile twisted her lip as she held out her hand. "Good luck, Mr Etean," she said as they shook hands, "you are going to need it." Etean noticed that she was squeezing rather hard.

He kept his face slack. "The same to you, Miss Weasley."

Ginny's smile broke into a full fledged grin. Her eyes narrowed mischievously. "You feel like making this interesting?"

Etean returned her grin. "What do you have in mind?"

"Five galleons to the winner?"

Now Etean smiled. "Five?" he shook his head, "If you want it to be interesting, make it ten," he said.

There was a flicker of a reaction in her eyes. "Alright then," she shook Etean's hand once more then released it. They both stepped back and resumed their positions. Madam Hooch ordered them all to mount their brooms and take off. As he soared into the sky, Blaise pulled level with Etean. "Keep your attention on the game, Etean, not on her."

Etean turned to look him in the eye. "You do your job, and leave me to do mine!"

"Ready!" Madam Hooch called from below. There was a jostle of excitement from the crowd as the Snitch and Bludgers were released. Etean tracked the Snitch for a second until it vanished amid the stands. Madam Hooch held the Quaffle aloft for a moment, then tossed it high and blasted her whistle. The game was on.

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Draco entered the Great Hall. It was all but deserted. Most people had headed to the stands already, he assumed. Hermione was nowhere in sight. Draco felt a pang, he had been hoping to see her before the match. He sighed and sat down. At least he would be able to eat in peace. He was famished, but after a night's training with Etean, he hadn't the energy to face a complicated breakfast, so he settled for the old reliable, oatmeal. As he chewed, his mind started down toward morbid thoughts again, but he forced himself to stop and concentrate on happier things.

The imminent quidditch match should be fun. Draco wished he were playing instead of just watching, but it would be interesting to see if Etean could get the better of Potter and grab the Snitch. Draco checked his watch. 'Yikes!' he thought, it was nearly time for the throw in. Draco wolfed down another mouthful of oatmeal and bolted for the door.

Outside, he paused to take a deep breath of clean air and then set off toward the quidditch stadium at a half jog. Even from this far away he could hear the roar of the crowd, and they seemed excited. Draco strained to listen, based on the noise the match hadn't started, but it would at any moment. Draco quickened his pace. He rounded the corner of the castle, reaching the sloping path that led down to the stadium and stopped. Hermione was walking slowly up the slope toward him with her arms bundled about her and her head down. Draco frowned and headed down to her. They were a mere twenty feet apart when she looked up and noticed him. Hermione stopped in place. Draco smiled and walked over to her.

"Where are you off to?" he asked her.

Hermione looked at him for a moment, then shrugged. "Nowhere."

She sounded upset, and now that he could see her eyes, he realised that she looked it too. "What is it? Don't you want to look at the match?"

Hermione scoffed. "What, and stand in the middle of a bunch of people that can't bear the sight of me? I don't think so."

Draco sighed. "That bad is it?" he asked, stepping forward to hug her.

Hermione stepped back. "It's worse!" she yelled at him, "The whole school thinks I've gone nuts or something. You'd know that if…" she stopped short.

"If what?" Draco pushed.

"If," Hermione hesitated, "if you hadn't been hiding all night."

Draco drew back. "I wasn't hiding," he said, though it occurred to him that he had been. "I was just…" 'training for a suicide mission to kill the most feared wizard in history…' was what he wanted to say, but he dismissed the thought, "…I wasn't hungry so I skipped dinner…after that I just kind of stayed in my room."

Hermione seemed to read his mind. "So you left me to face it on my own?" she set her hands on her hips, "Thank you very much, Draco."

She made to move past him, but he put out a hand and stopped her. "Wait, please…" he stepped forward to cup her cheek with his palm, "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to drop you in it, I just didn't think."

Hermione hesitated, then leaned her face against his palm. "No you didn't because you're an idiot!"

The insult was delivered quietly, taking all of the sting out of her words. "Well," he smiled, "it's a good thing that I'm so damned handsome then, isn't it?"

Hermione smiled at the joke for a second, then frowned at him and pulled his hand away. "Don't...I want to be mad at you now," she started to sound genuinely angry. She stared into his eyes for a moment, "Do you know how hard last night was for me, Draco? I had to look into my best friend's eyes and see hatred. Have you the slightest idea of what that feels like?"

"No," he answered, lowering his head.

Hermione sniffed hard. "Well let me tell you that it isn't a pleasant experience, but that wasn't the half of it. The whole of Gryffindor hates me too. I have suddenly become a stranger in my own home, and I don't know if I can take that."

Draco felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. He stepped right up to her. "What are you saying, Hermione?"

He saw her swallow hard. "I don't know…I mean, what are we doing here besides hurting the people around us?" she said, avoiding his eyes, "I don't know…if it's worth it."

Draco's throat went dry. Fear settled into his heart and started to squeeze. The pain of it threatened to stop it beating altogether at any instant. He took hold of her head again, with both hands this time and turned it so she was looking at him. "Don't say that, Hermione, please," he had to force his throat to open so he could speak, "don't say that."

She looked up at him, he stared back, willing himself to get lost in her eyes again. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Draco…"

He didn't want her to speak for fear of what she was about to say, so before she said another word, he leaned down and covered her mouth with his. For a few agonising seconds, Hermione resisted. Draco felt the pressure on his heart increase with every beat until, finally she relented. Draco let his grip on her head slacken as Hermione leaned into him to return the kiss. It was a gentle kiss, tentative and unsure and Draco could feel it. He broke off, but didn't move his head back more than an inch.

"I don't care what anyone else says or does or thinks…fuck them."

Hermione drew back slightly. "I don't know. My life is so messed up right now...My days are a constant mixture of fear and confusion, half the time I don't know whether I'm coming or going." Her eyes fluttered closed as she continued. "I can't sleep…Every time I close my eyes I face nightmares that I can't escape. And now everyone hates me on top of everything else? I don't know if I can take it…I can't bear it…I can't do this alone, Draco."

"You're not alone," he said quickly. "You have me, Hermione. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you last night, but it won't happen again. I promise you, you name the god and I'll swear it. Whatever you need, I'll give you, whatever I have to do, I'll do. Just stay with me, Hermione, please," he struggled for air, "You are the only thing in what's left of my life that still makes me feel alive inside."

She looked at him again. "I don't know…" she tailed off.

Draco wiped at a tear from her cheek before it could fall. The lump in his chest got heavier. Looking into her eyes, he could see that she really wasn't sure, but he needed her to be. In that moment, he knew that if she went away from him now, he would break in two. He would fall apart and wouldn't be able to resist in the slightest. The thought of never again being near her the way he was now simply refused to find a seat in his mind, it wouldn't happen, it couldn't happen.

"Just…answer one question," he strained to pronounce every word, "Are you telling me that this," he leaned forward and kissed her gently, "this, isn't what you want?"

Now Draco's heart did stop, so did his breath, so did his very soul. Nothing, no thought or concept existed in the world except for her eyes, and the answer that was coming.

It seemed to take forever, but finally her eyes closed. "No," she whispered. The word was barely audible over the wind but it hit Draco like a bolt of lightning. The pain in his chest vanished and he could breathe again. His head rolled forward and his forehead pressed into hers. Before he realised what he was doing, he was laughing out of sheer relief. It took him several seconds to regain his composure enough to speak.

"Thank you," he whispered, getting a stifled giggle in response. He drew back, just far enough to look into her eyes. "That's better," he said, pulling her into a hug. "I prefer smiling Hermione to crying Hermione." He released her to see the smile was gone again. He shook his head. "Well, it was a start. Now," he straightened up and offered her his arm; she wanted him to be there for her, and that was precisely what he was going to do, starting right now, "Let's show those idiots that they won't get to us. I am going to watch the match…and I would like you to come with me. I want you to walk into that stadium and stand beside me and damn anyone else that decides to care. What do you say?"

Hermione looked hesitant, but took his arm in the end. He led her down toward the stadium, Hermione dragging her feet slightly. They had reached the entrance to the stands when she stopped altogether. "Hold on," she said in a firmer voice than she had earlier, "I am not standing with the Slytherins," she shook her head, "They'll skin me alive."

"You don't need to worry about them," he said to her, releasing her arm and putting his arm around her, "They won't lay a finger on you while I'm with you."

Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah?" she said sarcastically, "And what about when you're not with me?"

"And when will that be? I said I won't leave you, and I meant it."

Hermione chewed on her lip in her adorable way for a moment, then shook her head. "Whatever, but I am not standing with them," she said defiantly.

"Fine," Draco gave in, "so where then?" he asked, then hastily added, "And don't even suggest the Gryffindor stand. Somehow I don't think I'd fit in there very well."

"No more than I will, right now," Hermione grumbled, chewing on her lip again. "Maybe we should just give it a miss?" she suggested.

"No!" Draco said defiantly, "We can't let the rest of the world run our lives for us. I have been looking forward to this match and I'll be damned if I'm going to let those morons make me miss it."

"Well, where will we go then?"

Draco thought it over, Gryffindor was definitely out, so was Slytherin, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff didn't sound very appealing either, that left just one other place. "We could watch from the Staff Stand, that's never full and I don't think they'd mind."

Even as he was suggesting it, the idea didn't appeal to him, but he did want to see the match and there was nowhere else. He looked down at Hermione as she mulled it over, after a minute she shrugged. "Ok then, if it matters that much to you, we can stand with the staff."

There was an almighty roar from above them: the match had started. The sound spurred Draco into action. "Ok," he caught Hermione's hand and tugged her behind him as they made their way around the stadium. The Staff Stand stood astride the centre line of the pitch. It was a five hundred yard journey from where they had started so by the time they arrived they both were out of breath, Hermione, a little more so.

"Hey," she panted, tugging her hand free of his, "You…nearly…pulled my arm…out of the socket."

"Sorry," he said, taking her hand again and kissing it gently, he wanted to turn and sprint up the stairs, but forced himself to remember his manners, "After you," he said, gesturing for her to take the lead. Hermione shook her head and marched up ahead of him. The roar of the crowd rose to a crescendo, one team or another had scored. Draco strained to hear the announcer, but couldn't make out his words. Lee Jordan had left the school at the end of last year, and his replacement didn't seem to have his aural presence. Draco wondered who it was.

They reached the top of the stairs. Hermione turned to look up at the stand behind them and her mouth dropped open. Draco stepped up beside her, looked up and frowned. The stand was deserted. Draco hadn't expected it to be full, some of the staff seemed pretty indifferent where Quidditch was concerned, but still, some of them should have shown up. Hell, even Snape and McGonagall were missing, their respective houses, part of the largest rivalry in the school, were going head to head and they weren't here? This was too weird.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked Hermione, the game behind him forgotten temporarily.

"I have no idea," Hermione answered, "But I know one way to find out." She left his side and clambered up the seats toward the announcer's booth. Standing on his toes, Draco could just about see the top of someone's head inside it. Realising what Hermione was doing, he hurried to catch up to her.

"GREAT SAVE BY RON WEASLEY…THE GRYFFINDOR KEEPER IS REALLY SHINING TODAY…" he heard the announcer's voice now, definitely more high pitched than Lee's had been, harder to hear over the roar of the crowd.

Draco caught up with Hermione just as she arrived at the booth and tapped the occupant on the shoulder. "Colin!" she called his name. Now Draco recognised him, Colin Creevey. 'They gave the job to this kid?' He shook his head as Hermione finally managed to get his attention.

"HERMIONE!" he said into the microphone. Hermione instantly blushed red and ducked low. 'Idiot!' Draco reached into the booth and snatched the microphone from his hand, glaring at him.

Colin drew back from him. "S…sorry," he stammered.

"It's…alright," Hermione soothed him, still bright pink.

"Wh…what do you want?" he asked, his eyes never moving from Draco.

Hermione reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, making Colin jump slightly. "We just wanted to ask you if you knew where all the teachers are?"

Colin shrugged. "I don't know," he said, his eyes darting around the empty stand, "They were here a while ago…Dumbledore…Snape…McGonagall…most of the others. Then, just before the match started, Dumbledore got an owl and left and they all followed him." Colin seemed to grow nervous. "You…you don't think that something's wrong do you?"

Hermione turned to look at Draco. It was clear from her eyes that they were both thinking exactly that. Dumbledore gets a message and then suddenly every staff member bolts from the match? No, that could not be good in any sense of the word. Neither of them said a word to answer Colin's question, but they were spared his repeating it when the crowd gave an almighty roar.

"He can't do that!" Colin roared at the top of his lungs. Draco felt the microphone ripped from his grasp as he turned round to see what all the commotion was about. "HE CAN'T DO THAT!" Colin repeated over the microphone. Draco heard a general confused mutter fill the stadium. His eyes scanned the air, seeking the source of the commotion. He saw it soon enough. Etean was rocketing through the centre of a knot of players, the Quaffle tucked neatly beneath his arm. The other players, specifically the Gryffindors, seemed truly baffled by his behaviour. Draco knew well enough why, a seeker handling the quaffle was almost unheard of. Etean pulled level and hurled the quaffle as hard as he could past the stunned Katie Bell to Theo. He flicked it to a waiting Annabelle, who slipped it past a clearly bewildered Weasley into the left hoop…Goal for Slytherin.

"Hey!" Draco shouted, punching the air.

"What the hell are you cheering for?" Colin shouted at him, remembering to set the microphone down this time. "That wasn't a goal, seekers can't handle the quaffle like that.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Draco said with a grin, turning back to Colin.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked with a curious frown. "I'm no expert or anything, but I think Colin is right."

"Oh you do, do you?" Draco folded his arms across his chest.

Hermione mocked his stance. "Yes, I do. Am I wrong?"

Draco stared at her. "Well, for your information, you are," he raised a hand at Colin to cut off his argument, "True, it isn't the seeker's normal role and, true, it is unusual for them to handle the quaffle, but, and I emphasise the 'but,' there is nothing in the rules to state that the seeker can't handle the quaffle."

"No," Colin jumped in, "I read the rulebook, and it says in there that only the chasers can score with the quaffle."

It did say that, Draco clearly remembered hearing Blaise lecture the team about it on more than one occasion. The rules were clear and goals could only be scored by a chaser. That, of course, was not the same thing as saying that the chasers couldn't handle the quaffle, it had just always been assumed.

Blaise didn't assume! Draco grinned. "I know, but Etean didn't score, did he?"

With a triumphant smile, he turned back to the game. There was a massive kafuffle out toward the centre of the pitch. The Slytherins were hanging back, grinning to themselves, while the Gryffindors were huddled round Madam Hooch, gesturing and gesticulating wildly. It lasted for a full two minutes before Madam Hooch had had enough. She blasted hard on her whistle and scattered the Gryffindors as she turned and flew toward the Staff Stand. Draco saw a frown crease her brow slightly when she noticed the lack of Staff spectators, but she seemed to get over it in a flash.

"The goal stands!" she said in an exasperated tone, "As will any other, so long as it is thrown by a chaser. I expect you to commentate accordingly Mr Creevey." Draco turned to Hermione and gave her an, 'I told you so nod'. Hermione hissed and shook her head as Madam Hooch took the microphone from Colin. "SLYTHERIN GOAL!" she roared, to mixed cheers and boos. "THE SCORE STANDS AT TEN POINTS EACH."

With that, she flew away to restart the match. Hermione moved closer to Draco as they both moved down the stand so that they weren't deafened by Colin's suddenly very agitated commentary. "You knew they were planning on this, didn't you?" she asked him with a sideways glare.

Draco put his arm round her and smiled. "Well, Etean may have mentioned it."

He wasn't sure, but Draco thought for a moment that Hermione tensed slightly when he mentioned Etean's name. He frowned and looked down at her, but Hermione just smiled at him and turned her attention to the game. Draco did likewise. A satisfied smile spread across his face as he watched Slytherin's lead grow. Blaise's tactics, bizarre though they had appeared on paper, were working a treat. Slytherin, in their current configuration, were playing with four chasers. The extra man gave them a dimension and an edge that Gryffindor simply couldn't deal with. The score clicked up, goal after goal soaring through the hoops, despite Weasley's best efforts. Draco cheered and clapped at each score, getting only hisses and rolled eyes from Hermione for his trouble. Her mood did seem to be improving though, she was smiling more at least.

Draco's eyes settled on Katie Bell, the Gryffindor captain, as she hovered to watch Ginny Weasley take a penalty shot after being fouled by Goyle. She looked stressed and pensive, Draco could guess her thoughts. As it was, her team were trailing by sixty points and were showing no signs of catching up anytime soon. They were simply unable to cope with the extra chaser and Slytherin was running rings around them at every opportunity. Nor could they simply adopt the Slytherin tactics. Draco grinned as he realised why. One reason was that they weren't prepared for it, the Slytherin team had practiced and rehearsed in this arrangement and could function as a unit seamlessly, whereas the best that the Gryffindors would be able to manage would be a clumsy, chaotic farce. Second, a fact which made Draco truly proud to be a Slytherin, the Gryffindors couldn't adopt their tactic because they saw it as immoral, as though it were beneath them. Slytherin wasn't cheating, the players were merely operating within an extreme bound of the rules, and such things were beyond the comprehension of the almighty Gryffindors.

Ginny scored her penalty and her whole team, along with a good portion of the stands, erupted with cheers. 'Why?' Draco thought. They weren't even close to catching up. Hermione gave her own little cheer and stood up to applaud Ginny's goal.

"I thought you weren't talking to them," Draco asked her as she sat down again.

"Ginny's my friend," Hermione said, still clapping at Ginny, who gave her a little wave, "Besides, she's the only one of them that is still talking to me."

"Oh," Draco said. His eyes followed Ginny as she circled around Etean once, grinning at him before shooting off back to her position in time for Blaise's throw out. So, Ginny Weasley was sticking by Hermione when all her other housemates weren't? The only word that Draco could think of to describe her behaviour was brave. Somehow he had never imagined her having the courage to stand up to the rest of them, maybe that was what Etean saw in her.

The game resumed, the quaffle shooting back and forth between the chasers at such a speed that it was little more than an orange blur. Draco had to fight to keep up with which player actually had it from second to second while Colin, for his part, was at least ten seconds behind. All of a sudden, there was a gasp from the crowd. Draco's eyes darted to Potter, who had just gone into a steep dive, his arm outstretched. Had he seen the snitch? If so, was Etean aware of it? Draco bounced to his feet and scanned the air beneath Potter, but it was no good, he was too far away to catch sight of the snitch. His eyes moved to Etean, he had pulled high out of the main fur ball of play and was watching Potter, watching, no more. After a moment, he dove down, snatched the Quaffle inches from Ginny's hand and hurled it behind his back to Stephen, who scored an impressive goal from thirty yards…Eighty points to twenty!

Draco returned his attention to Potter, who had arrested his dive and was now leaning on his broom, staring toward his goalpost and Weasley. "Nice try," Draco said slyly.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Potter tried to fake seeing the Snitch, hoping to pull Etean out of the way so the Gryffindor Chasers could get a breather," he commentated for her, "but Etean didn't go for it, he's too smart for that."

"Apparently," Hermione said distantly.

"You don't like Quidditch, do you?" he asked her.

"It isn't that," Hermione shrugged, "I like it when Gryffindor play, but that's mainly because of…my friends." Depression was edging into her voice again.

That wouldn't do. "We don't have to stay here if you don't want to."

Hermione smiled at him. "What? And have to listen to you moan on about missing it, all for little old me?" she shook her head, but was smiling. "Not likely."

"That would be annoying," Draco grinned, "But really, if you'd rather be somewhere else…"

"Where else is there?" Hermione shrugged. "Everyone is here."

"True," Draco gave her a wicked grin, "which means that the castle is pretty much deserted."

Hermione looked up at him, there was no doubting that she got his meaning. "Watch the match, Pureblood!" she elbowed him in the ribs gently.

There was a sudden sparkle in her eye that caught Draco's attention and raised his pulse. "Pureblood?" he said quizzically, letting the word roll off his tongue. "I'm not sure…was that meant to be an insult?"

Hermione smiled slyly at him. "That's for me to know, and you to find out!"

"Really?" Draco leaned down to kiss her. "Well in that case…consider this an investigation."

Their lips had barely met, when Hermione pushed him away, "I said watch the match!" she said in a forceful tone.

Draco suddenly couldn't care less about quidditch. "What match?" he said, leaning in again.

Hermione turned away from him when he was less than an inch from her, leaving him with a mouthful of hair for his trouble. "That match," she said, the air of playfulness still in her voice. "You wanted to watch it, so watch it. Save your energy for later."

"Later? What happens later?"

A tiny grin turned her lip. "That depends…"

"Depends on what?" Draco put his arm around her shoulder and tried to pull her closer to him, but she resisted.

"On how well you behave yourself," she said, shaking his arm loose, but not off, "and on who wins of course."

"What does that matter?" he said, scanning the play again.

"Well…if Gryffindor wins, then I'll be in a good mood, won't I?"

'And by implication, if Slytherin wins, you won't!' Draco got her game. He scanned the match again, and for the first time in his life, a thought entered his head. 'Come on GRYFFINDOR!'

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Etean ducked under a well aimed bludger and then rolled to the right hard to avoid a tackle from Katie Bell. He leaned back and killed his forward momentum, stopping himself in place as he released the quaffle. It flew straight into the waiting arms of Daniels, who rocketed skyward and then hurled it back to Etean. He caught it and, without even looking, flicked it to his right toward Nott, who slipped it past the exhausted Weasley….One hundred and ten points to thirty!

Etean didn't bother to congratulate Nott for his goal, he simply rounded in place and flew off, instinctively scanning the pitch in his free moments for the snitch. Doing two things at once was tough, the moves Blaise had them flying were very complicated but, thus far, Etean had it under control. The noise of the crowd and a corner eye watch on Potter would let him know the second the snitch made an appearance. Until then, he was playing chaser, and, he had to admit, having fun at it. He took a sideways glance at Nott, who held his hand high with his fist closed, and then slowly spread his fingers wide. Etean nodded and dropped down, flying paired with Annabelle while Daniels and Nott flew high in the front. Katie Bell caught the quaffle and passed it to Roger Dillon, who darted low, trying to sneak wide of Annabelle. Daniels and Nott looped back to chase him, while Etean and Annabelle shot forward, Annabelle toward Katie, Etean chasing Ginny. The tactic worked. Roger saw the two Slytherins pelting toward him and panicked, tossing the quaffle away toward his captain. Katie caught it, but then found herself trapped between Annabelle and Nott, who had reversed his tack toward her. Katie pulled up hard and passed the quaffle to Ginny, who just caught it ahead of Etean's grasp and shot away towards the goal. Etean swallowed a curse and then turned to follow her. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end suddenly and he hurled his weight to the side, narrowly avoiding first one, then the other bludger that had suddenly found him. By the time he recovered, he was just in time to watch Ginny feint left, then right, then toss the quaffle almost gently over Blaise's shoulder into the centre hoop….One hundred and ten points to forty!

"Well done kid," he whispered to himself as he drifted back toward Blaise.

The quaffle was returned to Blaise, who turned on Etean. "Where the hell were you?" he roared.

Etean ignored the tone of his voice and shrugged. "Bludger trouble," he said simply.

"Bludgers? Where the hell were the Lumpheads?"

'Good question!' Etean thought. He turned round to see Crabbe and Goyle circling high, tracking after Potter, taking Blaise's pre-match words a little too literally. Etean accepted the quaffle from Blaise as he started to roar at them like a mad bull. Etean shot out from the goal low, then pulled into a high looping arc across the pitch, faking twice before hurling the quaffle to Nott and dropping back into the pack. Etean caught it and passed it on once more before his senses registered a new danger. His mind reached out for the incoming bludger, but neither of them was near. Confusion took hold of him and he pushed his senses out further. A second, larger tingle of danger shot down his neck into his spine and this time he knew where it was coming from. He stopped in place and stared at his hand. His ring was glowing, an alarm signal from the Council!

'What the hell?' his mind raced. An alarm signal? Now? What would cause them to do that? The crowd around him roared as Nott slammed yet another goal home. Etean only barely registered it. He had to report in and find out what was going on, which meant that this game was over, it had to end now!

As seeker the proposition was simple, to end the game, catch the snitch! His eyes searched for and found Potter. He was circling high, hunting in growing desperation. At this rate, the gap between the teams would exceed the one hundred and fifty point mark in minutes and Potter had to grab the snitch before that. Good! He could catch the damned thing for all Etean cared at this minute, so long as he did it quickly. Etean scanned the pitch again, the snitch, where was the snitch?

He saw it! Thirty feet above the ground, damn near over the centre spot, hovering in place. Etean whistled loud to tell his team-mates that he wasn't playing chaser anymore and dove after it at top speed. At the bottom of his dive he rolled left to avoid a collision with Annabelle, and then levelled out and shot after the snitch. He accelerated as fast as he could, faster than was really prudent. The snitch hadn't moved, at this rate he would grab it in five seconds.

'Five,' the crowd roared, sensing that a Snitch capture was near.

'Four,' Etean leaned low and stretched out his hand.

'Three,' the ring on his outstretched hand flared bright again as the Council repeated their alarm signal.

'Two,' Etean felt his senses touch against a new danger, but it was too late to do anything but brace himself.

'One'…BOOM!

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Hermione cheered again as Ginny Weasley managed to evade Etean's challenge and scored. That girl had some real skill, Draco begrudgingly admitted to himself. Hermione definitely seemed to be a lot happier than she had been, even though her side was still losing horribly. Every little victory that Gryffindor achieved seemed to lift her spirits.

Forcing his attention back to the game, Draco saw Etean take the quaffle from Blaise and head out. He swept through the field of players and then tossed the quaffle to Theo. Theo took it and dodged rapidly round Ginny and Roger Dillon, performed a quick one-two with Annabelle to avoid Katie Bell's challenge and then blindsided Weasley to notch up another goal.

"It's not looking good," Hermione said matter-of-factly, not really sounding upset about it.

"That depends on how you look at it, doesn't it?" Draco asked with a smile.

Hermione moved closer to him and smiled back. "I suppose it does."

A loud whistle split the air. Draco's head snapped round and he caught sight of Etean dropping like a stone toward the ground. Draco somehow knew that Etean wouldn't try to fake Potter out so obviously, which meant that he was really after the snitch! Draco leapt to his feet and surged forward to the railing to get a better view. Hermione arrived a split second after him and they both leaned out to see what was going on. Draco spotted the snitch, Etean was indeed zeroing in on it as it fluttered about over the centre of the pitch. There was a loud 'OOH' from the crowd. Draco looked up to see Potter reeling. Crabbe or Goyle had hit him hard with a bludger – doing their job with a touch of skill for once. The blow must have hit Potter hard to send him spinning like that, but he managed to recover quite rapidly and then dove after Etean. Draco was surprised by his dedication, but noticed that Potter was definitely favouring his left side as he flew.

Draco's eyes darted back and forth between Potter and Etean. Potter was plummeting like a stone and showed no sign of stopping. Controlling his broom one handed like that, Draco doubted if he could arrest the dive even if he tried. What's more, if he didn't turn soon, he was going to collide with Etean. Etean was unaware of this, he was hell bent on the snitch and the angle of Potters approach meant he wouldn't see him till it was too late. Draco reached out, trying to send Etean a warning, but there was no time. Etean was an inch from catching the snitch when they collided.

CRUNCH!!!!

There was a loud gasp from the crowd as the two players merged into a tangled ball of limbs. Hermione winced beside Draco as the unmistakable sound of breaking wood filled the stadium. Colin Creevey's commentary fell silent with a gasp. With the force of the collision, Draco seriously doubted if either player had remained conscious. His stomach lurched as the ball started to separate, green going one way, orange the other.

"Are they alright?" the unanswerable question from Hermione failed to conjure up a response. Draco concentrated, slowing time to get a better view. Potter fell almost straight down, continuing as he was before the collision. He was awake, if battered, and he was still clutching to his broom, so he would survive. Draco's eyes moved to Etean, realising suddenly that the sound of the wood snapping had been his, or rather Draco's broom shattering. Draco could make out pieces of it falling downward below him, lots of pieces…the broom had been completely destroyed. That left Etean in some difficulty. At the speed he had been travelling, no, that he was still travelling, if he hit the ground unconscious…

Draco's eyes narrowed in concentration and reached out to him. 'ETEAN!' he forced as much effort into the thought as he could, trying to stir Etean to consciousness. It worked…at least he thought it did. Etean woke up. Draco felt a surge of sensation stir in him, followed by a sudden realisation of his predicament.

'Fuck!' the thought came back.

Draco relaxed, time accelerated. Draco watched as Etean turned in the air, twisting to fly level, still carried by sheer momentum that was now starting to ebb. The ground was now becoming a real prospect to be dealt with. Draco felt Etean tense, then the connection faded away, Etean faded away. Draco blinked, Etean was shrinking. The crowd in the stands let out a second gasp as they too saw the change. Draco watched, open mouthed as Etean became smaller and smaller, the green of his robes faded to golden brown and suddenly, where Etean had been, an eagle now flew.

The eagle beat its wings and soared upward, clearing the stand and the stunned crowd to bank high over the goal posts.

"Did you know he could do that?" Hermione asked, sounding astonished.

"He's full of surprises," Draco said as simply as he could, only now remembering one night in the woods, being rescued by an eagle.

Etean soared over the pitch again, letting out a mighty shriek as he swooped low over the stands. He circled once more then came to rest on the centremost goal hoop at the Slytherin end. The tiny dot that was the eagle Etean grew large again as he transformed. He straightened up, rather stiffly Draco thought and held his hand aloft. The sunlight glinted of something gold in his right hand as he held it aloft.

"HE'S…HE'S GOT THE SNITCH," Colin called in his most high pitched squeal yet, "ROBERT ETEAN HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH…SLYTHERIN WINS."

He didn't sound happy, more shocked. Draco, like everyone else, took a moment to catch up. Then slowly, starting with the Slytherin stand, and then spreading to the others, cheering started.

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Etean straightened up, wincing hard as his broken ribs and ruptured organs complained. He ignored them as best he could as his body set about the task of healing itself. The snitch returned to his clenched hand. He didn't remember catching it. Where had it gone to? He had often wondered where things like clothes and wands went when a person transformed. The question fascinated him right now, where had it gone? A blast of cold wind hit him and opened his senses. He remembered where he was, and blinked when he realised how far from the ground he was, standing on a narrow goal hoop.

He raised his hand and waved the snitch around, trying to piece together what had just happened. The match! He had been inches from the snitch when, out of nowhere, a massive lump of something had slammed into him. Hit him hard! What the hell was it? He shook his head, fighting away a sudden wave of dizziness. 'Think, Robert, what happened?' The collision, a blur of colour and pain, and then he had wings and was flying, and then he was landing, and now he was here. There were other details, but there was no room for them in his head at the moment. He brandished the snitch again. He had caught it. That was good, right? The crowd, there was a crowd around him, and they seemed to think so. Etean waved the snitch at them and they started to cheer. The noise quickly overwhelmed Etean's shaky senses. He shook his head and tried to force himself to focus. The Slytherin team were circling above him, clapping and cheering. Etean rubbed his temple and caught Nott's eye. He beckoned him down and then clambered onto his broom.

Nott set off, aiming for a lap of honour, but Etean bellowed at him, "Land this thing, now!"

The team continued to circle them as they descended. Blaise seemed to be beside himself with joy. He kept flying close and pounding Etean's back to congratulate him, despite Etean yelling at him to leave off. Once on the ground, Etean wasted no time in heading to the changing rooms. He was in a hurry for some reason, though his mind still refused to tell him what it was. He paused as he spotted Ginny standing with her own team. They were huddled around an orange lump on the pitch with more Gryffindors racing toward them from the stands. Ginny looked worried, as did her team-mates. She looked over at him and smiled. Etean smiled back and lifted his arm to wave, ignoring the spasm of pain in his shoulder.

Potter!

He was the lump on the pitch, and the lump that had collided with him in the air. Fuck, can that boy not fly a broom? Etean shook his head, he needed a shower, anything to clear his head and allow him to think clearly. There was something…something he had to do. The cheers of the crowd turned into a dull echoing roar as he entered the tunnel.

"We did it, we fucking did it!" Nott cheered behind him. Etean grimaced as a cramp in his chest sent a wave of pain through him. Nott was joined by Annabelle and Blaise in his celebrations. Etean tried his best to ignore their joviality, for some reason he didn't share it. His body hurt too much for one thing, but there was…something else. The team roared at him, trying to drag him into their cheers, but he didn't respond. He entered the changing room and shed his robes as he crossed to the showers. He stepped inside and turned his face upward to the jet of water.

'That's better,' he thought. The sounds from the changing room were of uncontrolled celebration. Etean ran his hand through his hair and opened his eyes.

"Etean….Etean," Annabelle's cherubim voice came from outside the showers, "Come on out here!" she ordered. Etean ignored her. His mind was running through the match, trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to be doing. He lifted his hands to rub his face, and saw his ring!

'Oh fuck!' he said, as he remembered.

"ALL STUDENTS ARE TO RETURN TO THEIR HOUSE DORMATORIES IMMEDIATLEY AND REMAIN THERE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE!" McGonagall's voice, magically amplified, sounded from somewhere in the ceiling. Etean shut his eyes. 'This can't be a coincidence.'

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Draco turned into the corridor outside the changing rooms. Hermione stopped beside him, her head angled toward the pitch entrance. Draco knew that she was desperate to know how Potter was after the collision. They had remained in the stands, staring down at him until the gathered crowd had obscured him from view.

"Go on, they won't bite," he said to her, pointing out the door. She still seemed hesitant, "Do you want me to come out there with you?" he offered.

Hermione turned to him and shook her head. "No, it's alright...I'll be alright," she said with a smile. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you later?" she asked.

"Sure," he nodded.

Hermione took hold of his jacket with both hands. "You mean it this time?" she asked warningly.

Draco took hold of her hands. "I mean it. I'll see you in an hour in the Entrance Hall, alright?"

"Fine, be there!" she ordered and left.

Draco watched her go, feeling the sense of relief return to him. That was close…too close for comfort. Still, he shook his head, close was better than the alternative. There was a great clamour coming through the door of the Slytherin changing room, not that he had expected anything less. It had been what, six years since Slytherin had beaten Gryffindor, and they had pounded them today so they had a right to laugh it up.

Draco was about to open the door, when, "ALL STUDENTS ARE TO RETURN TO THEIR HOUSE DORMATORIES IMMEDIATLEY AND REMAIN THERE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE!"

It sounded like McGonagall, but what the hell was going on? Draco stood, transfixed and perplexed. He heard the announcement being repeated out in the stadium. Apparently, McGonagall was serious. The changing room door opened in front of him and Stephen Daniels emerged, followed closely by Annabelle. "Malfoy?" she said when she saw him, "Do you know what's going on?"

Draco shook his head. "Not a clue!"

Annabelle moved aside to make room for Theo as he emerged, looking as confused as the others. He looked at Draco for a moment, then shrugged. "Ah well, guess our celebrations will just have to be confined to the Common Room then, eh?" he said nonchalantly, looping his arm around Annabelle and heading off toward the school. The rest of the team emerged a few seconds later. Crabbe and Goyle were waving their mallets around madly, bellowing an unintelligible victory chant. Blaise, whose head seemed to be a bit bigger, what with the ten inch grin that Draco imagined would become a permanent fixture, paused at the door and called inside. "Hurry up Etean, this is going to be one hell of a party!"

Draco didn't hear the response, but Blaise apparently did. He nodded and left, pausing only to clap Draco on the back and thank him for suggesting Etean as the replacement Seeker before he disappeared too. Draco scowled, this temporary Seeker thing was certainly sounding more permanent. 'But', he thought, 'what does it matter?' Shrugging, he opened the door and went inside. Etean was nowhere in sight, but Draco could hear him moving about in the showers.

"Can you lock that door?" Etean's voice came from behind the wall.

"What?" Draco asked him.

"The door," Etean sounded slightly annoyed, "Lock it!"

Draco shrugged, but took out his wand and did as he was bid. "Done," he said. Etean emerged behind him, a towel wrapped about his waist and drying his hair with another. He paused inside the room and glanced at the door. He untangled a hand from the towel and waved at the door. Draco heard the noise from outside fade away. He raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Etean looped the towel around his neck. "We don't want to be disturbed," he said simply.

"We don't?" Draco asked.

"No." Etean sounded serious, he looked around, as though checking where Draco was standing. "Step back," he said, pointing to the far wall, "sit over there and, no matter what happens, say NOTHING!"

Draco was now profoundly confused, but did as he was told. He walked to the wall and sat down. Etean hissed under his breath; Draco thought he saw the ring on his right hand flash briefly. Etean turned to the opposite bench and waved his hand over it. A large, silver bowl appeared. Etean reached down, Draco heard a splash. "Poliakov," Etean said quietly.

There was a pause and then, "There you are, Boy, what took you so long?"

Draco saw Etean tense slightly. "I was in the middle of something, Old Man."

'Old Man?' Draco was aware that Etean would probably address Lord Poliakov in a slightly informal manner, but, Old Man?

"What?" Poliakov's voice sounded agitated.

Etean sighed. "A quidditch match, if you must know."

"Quidditch? Why…"

"Don't ask," Etean cut him off, "Listen, things are a bit…weird here, so I don't have much time. What's going on?"

There was a definite pause. "Graham is dead."

Draco sat bolt upright. Etean froze in place. "Graham? Graham Kavanagh? How?"

"Details are still sketchy, but one thing is clear…Voldemort was responsible."

Etean paused. "How did Voldemort get Kavanagh?"

"Well," Poliakov sighed, "I suppose I should start at the beginning…a little over two hours ago, Voldemort's forces launched an assault on the Auror Headquarters in Coventry." Draco saw Etean visibly tense. "This attack was a surprise to us, not only in its sheer size, but also in the manner in which it was carried out. It represents a departure from the existing pattern of attacks."

Draco felt real fear start to edge into his mind. Etean didn't seem to be feeling the same. "How so?" he asked, calm as you like.

"The initial, somewhat confused reports we received were of a marauding group of giants wreaking havoc. They were smashing everything and everyone in sight, a real mess." Poliakov scoffed slightly, Etean didn't react. "We knew of course that Voldemort was behind it, many of the giants have allied themselves with him, though they have been quiet as yet. At first we were prepared to accept merely as change in tactics, an attempt to cause mass panic, but we discovered in short order that we were in error, this was bigger."

"Bigger?"

"Yes, for one thing, the giants weren't attacking alone. At least a dozen trolls were working in cooperation with them. Also the reports on their behaviour had them attacking the civilian wizard population at large rather than a specific individual or group, thus purposefully making themselves targets for the Aurors that responded to the attack in the process."

"Giants and trolls…" Etean sounded contemplative. He tensed. "A diversion?"

"Indeed," Poliakov sighed, "We realised that too, though not until after we learned that the Death Eaters had joined the battle, evading the main Auror force to assault their headquarters directly."

"How many of them?"

Poliakov sighed. "From what we know, most of them. The details are vague. We had a member, Alistair Ryan, present amongst the Ministry staff, though he fell during the first wave, leaving us in the dark at the worst possible time. It was clear to us that things were getting serious, we needed first hand information so Lord Kavanagh volunteered to go there and observe the battle as it developed."

'Lord Kavanagh? Oh hell!' Draco felt an icy shiver run down his spine. A lord of the Circle had fallen? Somehow, Draco hadn't thought it even possible.

"Observe, but not interfere right?" Etean sounded a little bit annoyed as he asked this. Draco raised his eyebrow but made no comment.

"There was nothing else we could do, Boy," Poliakov said soothingly, "by the time we learned of it, the battle was already in full flow, and as you know, we lack the resources to fight this war toe to toe with the enemy."

Etean raised a hand and rubbed his eye. "Save the lecture, Old Man, just tell me what happened to Kavanagh."

Poliakov paused. Draco was surprised at just how far Etean was pushing him without reprisal. "Graham arrived on scene, just as the Aurors had managed to regroup. The messages we received from him said that they were putting up a hell of a fight, but that they were facing impossible odds."

"Did they call for help?"

"Yes, but not in time. The last report we received from Graham informed us that the Death Eaters had breached the walls of the headquarters and that fighting had gone hand to hand in the corridors. Then his messages simply…stopped. We received no word that he was in danger, no indication of his being noticed. The first we learned of his fate was when his ring materialised in the Council Chamber."

Etean sighed. "He sent it back?"

"He must have," Poliakov replied. "The only conclusion that makes sense is that he was injured or cornered and chose to give up his life to return the ring to us rather than see it fall into the hands of the enemy."

"That was…noble of him," there was no trace of any emotion in Etean's voice. That was wrong, Etean knew this person, Draco was sure of it. He had no idea how well he knew him, but there had to be some reaction, hadn't there?

"Indeed," Poliakov said quietly, "he served till the end. We will wait for the dust to settle, and then we will recover his body."

"As it should be," Etean said the words as though reciting a mantra.

"As it will be," Poliakov responded in the same fashion.

There was a long pause. Etean stared at the bowl. Draco could see his eyes moving as he thought things through. "Where do things stand now then?"

"We are not sure…since Graham's demise, we have been somewhat cut off. And we are reluctant to send anyone else, so we are now forced to rely on second hand reports and communication intercepts. It appears, however, that the Death Eaters are digging in."

Now Etean did look surprised. "They are going to hold the city?"

"Part of it at least…we'll know more as it unfolds."

Etean seemed to mull this over. "I understand."

"I know you do, Boy, which is why I know you will understand what I am about to say. It is time for this plan to end." Draco tensed, end? He didn't like the sound of that one bit. "Things are progressing beyond our ability to control or predict. We cannot plan, or prepare in this any longer and so we must cut our losses."

Draco watched every move Etean made. He stared forward for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm not ready to give up just yet."

Poliakov laughed. "I'm sure you aren't…you never are. The Council, however, has decided that it is time, so this constitutes an order."

Draco swallowed. Etean lowered himself toward the water. "No, it doesn't," he said in a stern tone, "The Council cannot order me to do anything. Only a unanimous vote by all the other members can give them that power," he paused, "Did you vote for it?"

"I haven't voted yet. I wanted to speak to you before it came to that."

"Well, it has come to that. Cast your vote now," Etean's voice remained calm, "We can carry on, we have to. This is our one chance to win this without total war. You yourself told me that, were you wrong?"

Poliakov paused. "No," he said, "I wasn't, but in light of this tragedy…"

"This tragedy is what it is," Etean snapped, "But we are in this, we are committed, and this is not the time to turn tail and run!"

"They are not running, they feel that they are merely being prudent. In any event, it is their decision, whether you and I agree with it or not is irrelevant. Who are we to contradict them?"

"When last I checked," Etean's face twisted into a joyless grin, "we were members of the Council with an equal vote to the rest of them. I vote to continue, if you do too, then the rest will have to follow suit."

"They will object, Boy, and we cannot be divided now, not now."

Etean shook his head. "We won't be. You are the senior member, Old Man, you can convince them. They will listen to you."

"You flatter me." Poliakov didn't sound flattered.

"When have I ever done that?" Etean laughed. Then his face went slack. "The rest of the Council is wrong, Old Man, we can still do this, I know we can."

"And what if you are the one that is wrong?"

Etean paused and set his face. "Do you trust me?"

Poliakov paused. "You know I do."

"And have I ever failed you? Ever?"

"Never!"

"Then I want you to listen to me when I tell you, I can see this out…we have to see this out."

Draco held his breath without realising; his fate was being decided right in front of him, and he was suddenly too terrified to move. How far would Etean resist if Poliakov held to his line? "Very well then," Poliakov answered at last, "As you say, so shall it be. I will inform the Council…they won't be pleased but…"

"They won't have much of a choice will they?"

"No, I don't suppose they will. But you should know that if I am to persuade them to acquiesce to your wishes, convince them as you so eloquently put it, then I will have to support their choice for a replacement for Lord Kavanagh when one is put forward, as will you. That may lead to problems for us both down the road."

"When this is finished, Old Man, what will it matter?"

"Our mission will still continue, Boy. All going well, we will have this treaty signed inside a month, but that is just the beginning. Should the Council be divided, we stand to lose everything."

Etean shook his head. "We will just have to deal with that if and when it happens."

A pause and then, "Very well, good luck, Boy. I will keep you informed as always."

Etean nodded, then straightened and waved his hand over the bowl; it vanished. Draco suddenly became very aware of his heart pounding in his ears. "How close was that?" he asked.

Etean didn't turn round; he set his hands on his hips. "Close," he sighed, "You are lucky that Poliakov listens to me."

Draco didn't feel lucky, what he felt was worried. Something about Etean's behaviour was worrying him. He seemed to be tense, though he wasn't showing it, he was more taut than usual. "Sorry about your broom," he said suddenly, making Draco jump.

"What? Oh…don't worry about it, it wasn't your fault."

"Still," Etean ran the towel through his hair, "I should replace it…I'll order you a new one tomorrow."

Draco frowned. "Are you alright?"

Etean tossed the towel onto the bench. "I have three broken ribs, a concussion and unless I'm very much mistaken, a ruptured spleen on top of about a thousand aches and pains, but," he turned to look at Draco, "I'll get over it."

Etean walked slowly to the corner and shed his towel. Draco watched him cautiously as he pulled some plain, black robes over his head and started to fasten them up. "That wasn't what I meant," he said when it felt safe to speak, "I meant…Lord Kavanagh…you knew him?"

"Of course I did," he said in a flat tone, "I have served the Circle for over twelve years and been on the Council for almost ten months. How could I not know him?"

"How well did you know him?"

"Well enough," Etean picked up his quidditch robes and stuffed them into the team laundry basket, "I had to report to him for a couple of years, he directed field operations for the Circle…that was always my area of expertise," he paused, a distant look in his eyes, "He was forever telling me that I was reckless, irresponsible," he looked at Draco, no emotion in his eyes, "But which of us got himself killed eh?"

Draco didn't have the words to answer that. He was spared having to when McGonagall's voice boomed out again, repeating her order for all students to return to their dormitories.

Etean looked up as he heard the announcement. "Right, we get the point!" he said, running a hand through his hair. "Come on, we have a party to go to, and I for one feel like getting blind drunk." He unlocked the door and left, Draco trailing out after him.

A/N: Well, here we are again.

People have asked how many more chaps there will be, and the honest answer is that I don't know. I have decided to kind of roll chaps into each other (things that would be divided before will now run together, this is for handiness sake purely)

Patience is a Virtue, at least that's what I was told, I didn't listen to the rest.

Thanks to all reviewers, comments are of course welcome.

See ya later kids.