Written for the International Wizarding School Championships' Extra Curriculum Grammar School Drabble focus.

School: Durmstrang

Year: 5

Focus: Introducing a story

- Start with a question

- Revisit the beginning at the end

Word count: 602

Author's Note: This is set in an AU where Harry was sorted into Slytherin and Hermione was sorted into Ravenclaw. The timeline from the books has been shifted forward a few years in that what happened in Harry's first year in canon occurred in this AU his second year, and what occurred his second year is now occurring in his fourth year. This story opens in their fourth year.

Where Would he be Now?

Where would he be without her, his Hermione? Harry wondered not for the first time since he had discovered the Wizarding World and been admitted into Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft.

Harry twirled a lock of Hermione's hair between his fingers as she silently dozed. They were in an alcove in the library, various books and parchment littered the table, a product of their search to find anything to help him with the rumors of him being the Heir of Slytherin.

If it hadn't been for Hermione's steadfastness that he could not, would not do such a ruthless and cruel thing as to attempt to open the legendary Chamber of Secrets, he would have even believed the rumors.

After all, sleepwalkers were not prone to remember their time walking in their zombie-like, hypnotic state while seemingly interacting with objects and people as though they were awake and aware. He had heard several wireless dramatizations concerning that very premise—if you are unaware yet active, what could you be really doing?

Needless to say, he did match the criteria for the Slytherin Heirship: he had been sorted into Slytherin, he had exceptional aptitude in Defence Against the Dark Arts (and showed great promise in the darker arts, if he ever chooses to pursue them), and he was a Parseltongue.

Plus, there was that little meddlesome fact, that he had already defeated a powerful Dark Wizard, not once but twice and all before sitting for his OWLs.

The only pixie in that potion was his friendship with various Muggleborns—the very opposite of Salazar Slytherin's intentions and design for the cursed Chamber.

How could a true Heir of Slytherin befriend, secretively or otherwise, Muggleborns?

Simply put, the Heir would not, of course, but as Harry had found through his four years in Hogwarts already, whenever he was involved he was the exception to the rule. He was cursed to be special.

Sighing, he allowed the luxurious, chestnut curl of hair fall back over Hermione's serene countenance captured in desirous slumber.

How many days had it been since he could freely sleep without fear of another incident occuring?

The trepidation that he would somehow cause his girlfriend, Hermione, harm or death kept him awake well into the late-night hours. He had already lost count of the number of nightmares where that fear had morphed into horrid, striking reality before his dreaming eyes.

Closing his mind's eye to the painful flashes of the nightmarish images of Hermione lying petrified in the infirmary, he willed himself to re-focus on the book he was holding. Silently thankful for those private lessons from his Head of House. Everyone knew of Professor Snape's rigorous and stern teaching demeanor, but not everyone knew of his mastery in both Legilimency and Occlumency. Harry would be no Legilimens anytime soon, if ever, but with Professor Snape's tutelage in Occlumency he could now compartmentalize and wall-off unnecessary emotions with ease. If he continued diligently practicing his Occlumency, Harry had high hopes that within two years he would be a full Occlumens.

An hour pass as Hermione dozed while Harry read through book after book in his quest for a solution. Or, any more information, really.

Finally, as he was nearing the last book in his pile he found something. Reading the section once more through, he grinned. If what was written was accurate, then he was at least not losing his mental abilities—the voice he kept hearing within the walls was that of a basilisk. A bloody, freaking basilisk!

"Hermione," Harry whispered as he gently touched her shoulder that was leaning on his. "I found something!"

Hermione rapidly blinked her eyes and straightened. Her attention and focus immediately locking onto the book Harry held and whatever information he had just discovered.

"A basilisk?" She breathed. "Of course, why didn't I see it sooner."

"That's what being a Ravenclaw will get you. You always have your head in the clouds." Harry smiled and kissed her hair.

Hermione frowned and lightly elbowed Harry as she scanned the text. Honestly, boys were so slow to mature—even her sweet yet sly Harry had the same failing. Then again, she did not want to ponder where she would be without him by her side. That was too scary a notion to contemplate.

Fini