Chapter Eight: For Reasons Unknown

I don't wanna say I'm sorry

'Cos I know there is nothing wrong

Don't be afraid there is no need to worry

'Cos my feelings for you are still strong

Hold me in your arms

And never let me go

Hold me in your arms

'Cos I need you so

I can see it in your eyes

There is something

Something you wanna tell me

I see it in your eyes

There is something

That you hide for me

Is there a reason why

There is something

Something you wanna tell me

I see it in your eyes

There is something

That you hide from me

Hermione blinked rapidly as she opened her eyes, to find the morning light streaming through the open curtains that covered the dusty pane of glass that was the room's window.

She turned over, stretching, and smiled as she came face to face with Ron, who was still fast asleep.

Moving carefully, she stood up on the bed, and tried to step over his sleeping frame.

"Mione?"

"Ahh!" Hermione shrieked startled and promptly slipped over, landing awkwardly on top of Ron, who smirked.

"You've gotta stop with the smirking Ron! You look like Malfoy" she laughed, suddenly becoming aware of her less the moral position on top of her boyfriend.

Boyfriend? Is that what Ron was now? The idea frightened her for the briefest of seconds. Was it normal to feel so unsure?

"Er…. Mione?" Ron spoke up suddenly and Hermione looked down at him questioningly.

"Could you move, d'you think – my leg is going numb"

"Oh! Right sorry!" Hermione blushed, tumbling off him and back on to the bed. She lay there for a minute listening to the sound of her breathing slowing back to normal speed.

"Mione?" Hermione turned to look at Ron again, who had propped himself up on his elbow and was gazing intently at her.

"Yeah" she whispered. Ron reached across, tucking a stray twirl of her hair behind her ear and then left his hand there, thumb absent mindedly stroking her cheek. She bit her lip, never breaking eye contact, and tentatively, Ron leaned forward, placing the softest of kisses on her lips. He pulled back unsure, before Hermione tilted her chin up, kissing him back.

Rap Rap Rap!

They broke apart as a loud knocking was heard on their door.

"Its open!" yelled Ron, breaking the magical quietness of their embrace. The door opened and Harry walked in, Ginny's arms wrapped round his neck and legs round his waist in a piggy back style. Harry walked over to the bed, ditching his girlfriend over his shoulder onto it.

"Morning lovebirds!" Ginny sang, from her crumpled position on the bed and Harry grinned.

"Sleep well?" he teased and Ron threw a pillow at him.

"Hey! Don't do that! These pillows are filthy!" he yelped and Hermione grimaced. Nearly three galleons a night! Rip off!

"Ginny as you two are ready, can I use your shower?" Hermione clambered over Ron and off the bed. Ginny nodded.

"me and Harry are gonna find some breakfast – well bring you some back okay guys?" she added then shrieked with laughter as Harry slung her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift and tickling her as they left the room. You could still hear her shrieks from down the stairs.

Ron closed the door, shaking his head in bemusement and heard the shower start from next doors bathroom.

Spontaneously he grinned and punched the air.

"Yes! Yes yes!" he yelled mutely as he did a little dance of celebration. He'd finally gotten Hermione! He was dating mione!

"Oomph!" he landed with a thud as he tripped over the tangled bedcover on the floor and grimaced as he smacked his elbow on the bedpost.

"Bloody victory dance"

Blaise glowered at his reflection in the mirror of his wardrobe. He looked a fright! Dressed head to toe in the Zabini dress robes; jet black, with a silky satin lining in the colour of buttermilk, he felt like a trussed up doll.

"Bloody Death eater meeting! Bloody death eaters!" He stopped grumbling to himself as a sharp rap on the bedroom door, caught his attention.

He nearly added "bloody parents" to his list of all things bloody but restrained himself as he opened the door to let in his father.

Mr. Zabini was a tall, lanky man, with a thin, lined face and a long greasy nose. He wore his own version of the dress robes Blaise was sporting and they looked, Blaise noted with glee, just as terrible as his own.

"Blaise, are you ready?" his fathers stern voice had always manage to make Blaise stand to attention, even if he was just greeting him.

Blaise nodded and his father straightened his collar – the most affection he ever showed towards Blaise. Ah well, he could have been adopted by worse people Blaise thought satanically.

He had never known his parents and had been told his biological father had died and his mother had been only fifteen when he was born and was too young to deal with a child. He had been given no names. All he had was a battered photograph of his teenaged mother, which he had stolen from his file, when he visited the orphanage once to collect the papers he would need for Hogwarts.

The girl in the photo was hard to make out and Blaise couldn't, even with magic, better the resolution of it. However it hardly mattered who his biological parents were. He had been raised a Zabini, a pure-blooded wizard; with a destiny to fulfil.

Blaise followed his father down the stone steps from the turret room which housed Blaise's quarters.

They made their way into Mr. Zabini's study, where Blaise's mother was waiting. Mrs. Zabini was an exceptionally beautiful woman, with a sheet of long black hair and vivid grey eyes and the palest of skin. She smiled at Blaise as he entered and swooped down to place a kiss on his cheek.

"Hello darling" she smiled and Blaise smiled back. This was his true family. His father may have been stern and unaffectionate and his mother may have been incredibly busy all the time, but they loved him. They wouldn't have adopted him if they hadn't…..

Mr. Zabini was holding out his arm to his wife and son, and they took it, holding on tightly. He flinched as what Blaise knew was his dark mark blazed suddenly and within an instant had transported them to the side of lord Voldemort.

"You okay to leave Harry?"

Hermione approached Harry's silent figure in the quiet darkness of the bedroom that had once belonged to lily and James potter. The four had reached the house this afternoon and Hermione, Ron and Ginny had waited outside as Harry unlocked the front door, with its peeling red paint and slipped inside.

Three hours had passed and Hermione had decided to check on Harry. Once inside the house, she'd realised what Harry had been doing. When they had arrived, they could make out the tell tale signs of the fight between the potters and Voldemort; smashed vases, upturned tables and broken ornaments. Now however, the house was clean and tidy. The broken china had been swept up and the once dusty dining table was sparkling. Hermione had made her way up the staircase to the first floor and found Harry standing very still in his parent's room.

Harry turned to look at her with hollow swollen eyes and nodded.

"Yeah, lets go" he whispered, slipping past her. She could hear his footsteps echoing down the stairs and the front door being unlatched.

She stood for a moment in the bedroom, taking in the sight of the newly made bed and the plant pot that Harry had obviously attempted to mend. She flicked her wand at it, hiding the indicative cracks and left.

"Okay?" she asked no one in particular and everyone shrugged or nodded. Harry fingered the letter, he taken from his mother's dressing table drawer, and felt a tingle spread through his body. This letter was from his mum, written by her, for him. He pushed it deeper into his pocket, desperately frightened of losing it.

They walked in silence down the narrow twisting roads that Hermione claimed led to their destination.

Godric's hollow grave yard.

The towering eerie church stood out drenched in shadow and casting alarming shapes over the grounds, which seemed to stretch for miles.

Harry walked purposefully ahead of his friends; of whom Ginny was clutching desperately to her brothers hand.

The trees overhead thickened and the path narrowed and they kept walking.

Harry stopped.

Hermione made to step forward but Ron held her back, shaking his head.

Two marble headstones stood before them, baring the names:

Lily Potter

James Potter

"You really don't want to be here"

Hermione emitted a shrill shriek, and a hand was clamped over her mouth, quick as a flash. She whirled around and looked deep into the eyes of Blaise Zabini.

Gasping as he removed his hand, she stared wildly at him.

"What? Why? What are you doing here?" she gabbled incoherently.

Blaise motioned for her to quieten down and she did so, suddenly trusting him with every fibre in her body.

"Listen carefully. There is something going on tonight that you will not want to be part of believe me" Blaise shot a worried glance over his shoulder before continuing.

"Ill explain when we get back to school next week, but for now you need to get back to Hogsmede" he pulled a silver wristwatch out of his pocket and thrust it into Hermione's hands.

"This is my emergency port key – use it okay?" he insisted.

Ron, who had been dying to speak for the past five minutes, exploded.

"Why should we trust you? Why would you help us?" he hissed through the darkness.

Blaise stared him down.

"I wouldn't help you. But I would help Hermione" he answered coolly and Ron turned to give Hermione a curious look, but she ignored him, still gazing intently at Blaise.

"Take it" he ordered and they all grabbed the watch.

Blaise darted a cautious look around the grave yard, then pulled out his wand.

"Activos!" he muttered and the wrist watch glowed silver. Moments later the familiar feeling of being hooked just above the navel flooded over the group.

Oomph!

Hermione landed with the thud on top of Ron.

"Sorry!" she rolled off him and got to her feet.

"What was Zabini up to?" asked Ron as he peered curiously at Hermione, who was spinning round as if she'd lost something.

Suddenly she yelped, her hands springing to her face in shock.

"Ron! Where's Harry!"

Blaise stared for a minute at the spot where the figures of the Gryffindor's had stood previously. It had been dark but he had seen the look of trust and complete faith on Hermione's face.

"Zabini? What are you doing here?"

Blaise jumped startled and spun round.

"Ah fuck" he groaned as out of the shadows came Harry potter.

"Potter – why the hell didn't you get the port key with your friends!" Blaise hissed, frantically.

Harry just looked non- plussed.

"Im sorry – what!" he asked, running a hand through his jet black hair.

Blaise groaned.

"Potter – you can't be here! Not tonight!" the Slytherin was surprised at his own compassion for a boy he was supposed to hate. He did not want to be responsible for his death.

"Get out of here now potter and fast!" Blaise urged, shoving Harry in the back.

"What the hell is going on?" Harry asked distractedly.

Blaise needn't have even begun to answer as a dark figure loomed from behind him.

"Ah Mr. Zabini, I do believe your son has excelled himself in my services already"

Harry froze as he heard the voice that had haunted his dreams and nightmares since he was eleven years old. In the moment of silence that passed he couldn't help but think he was going to die. Right here, right now, in front of his parents graves.

They were going to witness how weak he really was – his final failing.

No….

He refused to shed his blood on his parents' graves. Not his own anyway. Not tonight.

Slowly he turned around and faced the slit nose and squinty red eyes that had burnt themselves on his mind.

"Ah Tom riddle. Lovely evening for it hmmm?"

Blaise was stunned at Harry's ability to be sarcastic just before he was going to die. That was something he expected of Draco not Harry potter.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at Harry's reminder of his muggle fathers' name and turned to Blaise.

"Master Zabini, would you care to explain how potter came to be here tonight?"

Blaise gulped.

"I…. erm…."

"What's going on Blaise, I thought we were friends. You said we were going to work on out potions project!"

Harry suddenly reeled off a furious train of ideas, yelling at the boy beside him, who looked just as terrified as he believed himself to look.

Voldemort cackled manically and stopped just as abruptly as he had started.

"Ropereo!" he hissed and ropes wound their way up Harry's arms and legs, binding him in mid air. He seemed to drift along behind Voldemort as they entered a clearing in the trees, not too far from his parent's graves.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight of thirty hooded death eaters standing in a circle around three very limp, pale and decidedly dead bodies.

He spotted a couple of familiar faces in the crowd, namely Draco Malfoy and Crabbe, and turned to stare frantically at Blaise, who lowered his eyes to the ground.

Voldemort stopped in the centre of the circle of his followers and sent Harry a gloating look that made his blood freeze.

Blaise stood there silently. He had tried, he hadn't wanted this to happen –even if he was supposed to hate potter he didn't or couldn't. He was Hermione's friend at the very least.

He stood very still, concentrating on finding a distraction. If only the muggles in the nearby village were roused, then maybe……

He jumped as he heard the distant sound of glass smashing. Lots of glass. It was followed by the sound of raised voices, screaming and sirens. Blaise looked up intrigued, and saw panic on the faces of the death eaters.

A short, stocky hooded figure stepped forward. Wormtail.

"My lord, the muggles are awake. All the glass in their houses has smashed…!" he sounded disbelieving as he spoke he words.

"They may come to check the church my lord"

Voldemort narrowed his bloodshot eyes and swept across the clearing to Harry's bound body.

Voldemort raised his wand, pointing it directly at Harry, and then paused.

"No…" he muttered, stepping backwards.

The death eaters exchanged quizzical glances.

"I can feel it again tonight, just like the last time. What is it you carry that causes such protection boy?"

Harry stood very still. His thoughts were flashing through his mind at the swiftness of a speeding bullet.

The letter.

His mind finally rested on the only thing he could think of. His mother's letter. Had it given him some of the protection that his mother had saved him by seventeen years previous?

Harry watched as Voldemort retreated, not daring to lose the power he had fought so hard to regain these past years. The death eaters were leaving too as the sound of sirens reached the church car park and Harry sighed with relief.

Suddenly he was all alone, lying in the graveyard where his parents rested, but still clinging to life. And without warning a flood of silent tears slid down his face.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice lifted him out of his despair and fright for a second before he dissolved into it once again.