A/N: I do realize that 4k words might be a bit excessive for one chapter… Oh well; it's what happened. Also, I do apologize, but the first part of this chapter is a little slow. I'm really sorry about it! I really tried to make it decent! Nevertheless, I hope you guys are liking this so far! Also, I forgot to mention last time—this story is also on AO3, if you prefer to read on there, as I do.

Chapter Two: A Detail is (Partially) Revealed

Weeks passed.

Ginny was still acting strangely, and her odd behavior became increasingly more apparent. I started seeing her in places that the shadiest people in town hung out in, trading things discreetly, and her grades were dropping.

It was like I saw her at the library and then the floodgates were opened.

I didn't talk to her again about what happened there, but I almost wondered if she was making things clearer specifically for me. Just the way she would catch my eye sometimes, or wait for a second before rounding a corner, almost like she wanted me to see.

But she didn't talk to me and never looked at me when she must have known I was watching.

I had no idea what to do at that point, though. I was in way over my head.

So, of course, I did the only thing I could think to do—I went to the headmaster of our school, Albus Dumbledore.

Long ago, he had been the detective who brought in Voldemort when no one else could. Just based on that, he could have been anything, done anything with his life—and yet he chose to be a teacher.

Anyway, my point is, out of everyone I knew, he was probably the person I could trust most.

After all—Ron? He would insist that nothing was wrong and become upset at me even bringing it up. Harry? He would just tell Ron and then I'd be in the same situation as if I had just told Ron to begin with. And there were no other people in that school that I felt I could talk to. They were all either huge gossips or they hated me. Or both. Both at the same time was more common, actually.

Anyway, enough of that. It was after school on a Monday near the beginning of November that I went to talk to him. I knocked softly on the door, then crept in when he told me to enter.

"Headmaster," I began slowly.

"Yes?"

I decided to cut right to it. "I'm worried about Ginny, and I wasn't sure who else to turn to."

"How so? I trust you to solve your own social issues, my dear, so what is it that troubles you about Ginny?"

"Well… I think she could be in trouble," I said, beginning to feel guilty, like I shouldn't have come here to begin with. He was right, after all—I could solve my own social issues. I felt my face redden a little bit.

But I also knew this was different—I wasn't sure that this was something I should be meddling in. It would be better to involve someone that knew what they were doing.

"Please, do elaborate," Professor Dumbledore lightly encouraged.

"I… I think she might be involved in something dangerous, and quite possibly illegal, too," I blurted all at once.

Dumbledore's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "I am afraid that there is not much help I can provide for you if you have no proof. I can, of course, speak to her about this issue. However—"

"No, that's not necessary," I said quickly. How could he already tell that I had nothing to back my claim? Did I really come off as that stupid?

Don't think like that, Hermione, I scolded myself.

I knew I was plenty smart enough, and so did my teachers. I also knew I had to work on the social anxiety and how I was always worrying about how I came across to people.

He continued as he arched a gray eyebrow, "Have you spoken to her about it?"

"Well… no," I said, looking down at my hands, suddenly feeling quite foolish. "Sort of," I amended. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here today." I shifted, wringing my hands together as I did so.

"No, you followed your instincts, and you cannot be blamed for that. You generally have good judgment." I hoped I was just imagining the disappointment in his voice. "And I am not saying that I do not believe you—I do, I have noticed Ms. Weasley's odd behavior, too. But, as I said before, we have no proof. Why don't you talk to her, or keep an eye on her? That wouldn't hurt." He smiled kindly at me, which made me want to squirm, sent me into the feeling of being an invalid. It shouldn't have hit me so hard, but it did. That's what happens when you're never wrong—you don't know how to be. "Besides," he said, moving on, "you are a TA in her science class this next trimester, which is only just around the corner, and you will also have PE and robotics with her. That's more than half her classes; I'm sure you can gather enough information from that. I trust you to figure this out."

I wondered briefly why he seemed so calm about this—then I reminded myself that he seemed calm about everything, no matter how drastic the situation. Besides—he said that he believed me, but part of me felt that he was just doing so to make me feel better.

So instead of saying anything, I nodded briefly, then rose from my seat.

"Thank you for coming to me with this, Ms. Granger," he said as I turned to the door. "Notify me if anything changes. I appreciate your concern for your friends and classes."

"Erm… yeah," I said slowly. "Yes, of course." I urged myself to pull it together as I stepped out of Dumbledore's office.

These were going to be a hectic next few weeks.

At the end of November, Ginny cut class. Twice.

It was the first real piece of proof I had of anything, as it was certainly unlike her.

I felt that that proved my point, but, when I brought up her strange behavior to Harry and Ron, they both dismissed it as her having a stressful start to the year—after all, sophomore year was hard on all of us, wasn't it? "She's a good kid," they reasoned. "She'll get back on the right track."

This, of course, frustrated me—how could they not see what was happening?

Perhaps it would have helped if I told them what had happened in the library, but something stopped me. I wasn't sure what—loyalty, cowardice, the fear of being wrong, or just not wanting to. I couldn't figure it out, which was a new feeling for me. I was pretty sure I didn't like it, though.

Regardless, I started hanging around Ginny a little bit more. After all, that wouldn't hurt anyone, would it?

Well, maybe it hurt me a little bit.

I tried really hard to stay cool, I really did, but honestly—you try suddenly being friends with the girl you're hopelessly in love after years of ignoring her (all the while, she really only views you as her older brother's awkward friend) but instead of actually trying to be her friend, you're busy trying to figure out if she's involved in shady shit.

Oh, the life of a teenager.

Always exciting, right?

Now, okay, I know what you're thinking—Hermione, why couldn't you just flirt with her and call it good, like a normal person your age? Why did you have to stick your nose in her business when it didn't belong there?

Well, I don't really have much of an answer for you.

All I know is that I really cared about her. I loved her to pieces—still do, actually. And I wanted to keep her safe. I felt like there had to be something more going on than what I'd seen in the library, and I wanted to know. I also had a feeling it could be really bad.

When I started hanging around her, it was a little awkward. Neither of us was quite sure if the other would bring up the incident, but I guess we were both too scared of what the other would do. But being friends was actually really nice, and I began to wonder why I had never thought of starting something like it before.

Well, okay, it wasn't actually me who started things. I walked into the lunch hall one afternoon, heading to my usual spot near Ron and Harry and Neville and the like when I heard her voice.

"Hey, 'Mione!"

I turned around. I hated it when people called me that, but I didn't tell her to stop. I liked it too much—her calling me a nickname. I knew I should have felt distrusting toward her, after everything… but it was really nice to not hear any anger in her voice whatsoever.

"Er… yeah?" I said, unsure of myself. I hadn't spoken to her since the library all those weeks ago.

"Come sit with us," she said, smiling at me.

Is this a trick? A joke of some sort?

"Oh, sure," I said before I could think too hard about it, trying to ignore my self-doubts.

Her friends all smiled at me, and I wondered if it had all just been a misunderstanding. She's seemed so calm right here, right now, so kind, and so did her friends.

"We were wondering if you would help us on that science project," one of them said. His name started with a "C"—at least, I was pretty sure—but I couldn't get much farther than that while trying to place him.

The new trimester had just started and I was a TA in their class. A huge project had just been assigned.

I frowned. "I don't think that's allowed."

"Well, no one ever said it wasn't," Ginny reasoned.

"I guess not," I began hesitantly. Did I help? Did I tell them to talk to the teacher? I hated situations like this. "Look," I decided, "I'll read over your ideas and tell you what I think and if you really need help getting it to work, I'll give you some suggestions. How's that?" I made a mental note to ask the teacher about all this. Whatever I felt about Ginny, I wasn't going to help her cheat.

"Great!" Ginny said. "You're the best!" She gave me a stunning grin that sent my heart fluttering about in my chest, but there was something that held me back from smiling—

"Should I go now?" I asked, slightly sad. If this was all they'd called me over for...

"No, stay," Ginny said, interrupting my train of thought. "We don't hang out enough, and me and my friends all like you."

She had never shown any interest in "hanging out" before. I wondered what this was about, wondered if it would end before it had even begun, but the following day she asked me to join again, and the day after that, too.

I started going back and forth between sitting with Ginny and sitting with Harry and Ron, and before long, I began to feel like maybe Ginny wanted me to sit with her because she actually liked me. Not like that, though. My hopes weren't quite that high… yet.

And maybe that was partially the case, but I eventually found out that she did, in fact, have ulterior motives. But I didn't know that for a while after.

Regardless, we continued as actual friends, seeing as I really didn't know anything at that point. In some ways, that comforted me—I didn't know why she was acting oddly; it was her business and I could be totally misinterpreting it, right? It didn't help that we avoided talking about whatever it was she was up to after school, and about that day in the library—it was just an unspoken agreement between the two of us.

But I drew the line when she started ditching. The small curiosity that was there, the brushing things off, the thinking that perhaps it wasn't what it looked like, that all vanished that day. It really scared me. I don't know why. Maybe it was just how scared she seemed that did it, or the bruises. Or maybe it was the way her voice shook when she spoke to me.

I could almost have let it go as normal, teenage rebellion (or whatever people call it these days), but on that first day she cut class, she came back to the girls dormitory late that night with choke marks on her neck and an empty look in her eyes, and all I wanted to do was keep her safe.

I saw her and my heart started to crack. She looked so sad and broken, and I didn't know what to do, so I just took her gently by the arm, watching her glassy-looking eyes for some kind of sign that she was alright. There wasn't one.

Finally, I sat her down on the edge of her bed.

"What's wrong?" I asked as kindly as I could in a soft voice, hoping not to scare her away.

"Nothing," she snapped. Apparently my ploy didn't work.

"Well, it's clearly not 'nothing,'" I responded, my voice a little louder now.

"Why can't you just believe me?" she asked, annoyed.

Because you don't look fine! Because you're clearly hurt and broken and tired and I don't know what to do! "You've been acting so strangely lately, and now you cut class and come back with bruises on your neck, probably more elsewhere? What happened?" It didn't come out wonderfully, but I don't think anything I could have said would have.

"Look, you barely know me, Hermione. I appreciate your concern, but we only just started being friends—or whatever this is—a little bit ago. Don't just assume you know me, okay? Why don't you just go back to hanging out with Ron and Harry?"

"Ginny," I said, a little hurt as I cursed myself for letting my temper rise. I just wanted to help.

"Don't 'Ginny' me, Hermione. Like I said—you should just go back to Ron and Harry." With that, she stood and marched into the bathroom, scowling and muttering, "I'm taking a shower. No one bother me."

But I just wanted to help, I thought for the millionth time as I watched her go. What did I do now?

Luna, who was sitting next to me now, said quietly, "Be careful with that one, dear. If she doesn't want helping, she won't consent to you helping." It wasn't what I wanted to hear, but it was true.

I glanced over at her.

"I'm just saying," Luna continued. "I know she's in deep, but I don't think there's much anyone can do anymore."

I paused. "Do you know what she's involved in?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you do."

"No, I mean, what do you think she's involved in?"

"I don't… I don't know," I said slowly. "That's why I'm asking you."

Luna smiled slightly. "Well, I'm not supposed to know."

"But you do," I prodded.

"Yes, and so do you."

"No, I don't!" I snapped, frustrated. This whole night was starting to get to me.

"Well, you have a theory, don't you?"

"I suppose…" I trailed off.

"And?"

"And, what?"

"You're smart enough. Use your brain. Figure out if you're right."

"How?" Why couldn't she just tell me?

"Follow her, tomorrow night. See where she goes."

"What? No!" As far as bad ideas went, that was at the top of my list. Because… "That's just… weird, stalker-ish."

"She wants your help."

"I thought you said she didn't want my help!"

"Well, she doesn't think she does. But she does. And you're probably the only one who can convince Pansy."

"What does Pansy have to do with anything?"

"She just does."

"But what?" Luna could be so frustrating.

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough. But until then, Pansy's involvement neither anything to concern yourself with nor any of your business." That didn't make any sense to me.

I let out an annoyed sigh. "If you aren't going to be helpful, I'm going to leave," I threatened.

"Alright," Luna said, turning back to her book.

I got up, deciding I didn't have the energy in me to fight with her to figure out what she knew, and meandered—well, "stormed" was probably a better way to describe it—back to my room, which I shared with a couple other girls from my year.

I flopped down on my bed with a loud sign.

"Someone's in a bad mood," Lavender said. She was the bain of my existence and probably the person I hated most in that school (other than Draco Malfoy, obviously).

Of course, she probably wanted gossip, so I said nothing.

"Fine, be like that," she sneered. "You know, maybe you should let your roommates in every now and again. Might do you some good to not lug around everything you've got in that brain of yours all by yourself. It's not good to bottle everything up. You need help."

I glanced over at her. "Maybe," I murmured.

All through the school day, I stressed over Luna's suggestion—to follow Ginny.

Something was going on, that much was certain, but what kind of friend was I to follow her around? I was already being nosey enough. Following her would be crossing a line.

But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like maybe it was the only option, so I decided that I would follow her for a little while only and, if nothing happened, I would just go back to the dorm and pretend it never happened.

Unfortunately, the next day, I didn't see her in any of the classes we shared—but she was at breakfast, seeming to be fine—and I realized that she was cutting again, which meant that I wouldn't be able to find her to start with.

So, right after school, I set to work to do so. Like Luna said—I was smart enough. I could figure it out.

But to do that, I first had to sneak out. That was the main problem.

As soon as my final class ended, I went back to my dorm, not waiting for Harry or Ron like I usually did. I ditched my bag and donned dark jeans and a black hoodie—something told me I wouldn't want to be dressed in bright, noticeable colors.

My heart pounded as I did so, and I didn't know why. All I was doing was changing. That wasn't so conspicuous, right? If I couldn't handle this, I certainly couldn't handle—

"What are you doing?" Lavender said pointedly, interrupting my stream of thoughts and causing me to jump, half-way through changing.

I hadn't noticed her there before. I turned slowly around to see her standing in the doorway.

"Er… changing?" It came out as a question, much more uncertain than I'd intended.

"Why?" Her voice sounded unpleasantly skeptical, as always.

"Because… I want to?" It wasn't a very convincing argument—even I knew that.

"I don't think so," Lavender said smugly.

"What do you think, then?" I asked, trying to keep it casual. If I wasn't worried by her uncertainty, it might convince her it wasn't a big deal. Unfortunately—

"I think you're going somewhere—somewhere you're not supposed to, which means"—she giggled slightly— "you're breaking the school rules! Little miss I'm so perfect is leaving the school boundaries without permission! I can't wait to tell everyone you're not the goody-two-shoes you pretend to be!" She seemed slightly giddy. She'd been trying to catch me doing something I wasn't supposed to for ages now, and anything I did something even remotely questionable, she got overly excited.

"No, Lavender, don't do that," I said, frustrated. Still, I tried to keep worry and concern out of my voice.

"Oh, and why not? Don't you always tell all of us to immediately report when classmates are breaking the rules? Aren't you always on our cases about turning each other in? Ha!" She grinned maliciously at me. "You're such a hypocrite!"

"No! That's not—it's not what it looks like!" I lied.

"Then what is it?" she asked, seeming disappointed, deflated.

Quick, I thought. What's something she'll buy? Gossip! Always a good bet with Lavender.

"I'm seeing someone," I blurted.

"What?" she responded, surprised and curious. My ploy had worked—at least for now..

"Er… yeah, I'm seeing someone, but it's a secret. We're meeting outside on the grounds tonight, but we… don't want to be seen." I filled in the blanks as I went. "We're going to sit near the forest so that people might not notice us." I hoped she bought it. I knew I wasn't a great liar.

The knots in my stomach went away as she said while grinning, "Ooh. Interesting. Well, your secret's safe with me!" I doubt it, I thought as she continued, "Who's the lucky guy?"

I was pretty sure that if I gave her a name, the whole school would be whispering about it by the following morning. And besides, it wouldn't be a guy even if I were seeing someone. "Well, it wouldn't be a secret if I told you, would it?" was what I finally settled on saying.

Lavender huffed, going back to her more sulky state. "Fine, whatever. Have fun on your secret rendezvous."

I doubt I will. "Er… yeah, right, sure."

I finished tying back my hair and zipping up my sweatshirt.

Lavender frowned at me. "You can't wear those."

"What?" I had no idea what she was referring to.

"Those shoes, they're too… clean. It doesn't go with the whole 'emo' vibe."

I raised an eyebrow. "I really need to be going."

"Yeah, but not in those shoes," Lavender said. "Come on, it'll only take a second."

She started digging through her enormous shoe collection (seriously—why did one girl need about twenty sets of shoes?) and found a pair of Doc Martens. "These'll work. Here you go. Thank me later."

I stared at them skeptically, but took them anyway—she was right. Bright blue sneakers probably weren't the best for going unnoticed.

I put them on, then turned to find she had cornered me, pencil eyeliner in hand.

"No. Not happening," I said.

"Aw," she sighed. "I thought we were going to get to do roommate-y things for once."

"Sure, but not that," I said.

"I just figured, you know, you're going for the emo thing—might as well make the transformation complete! Besides, you never wear makeup!"

"And why should I?" I asked, getting up. I needed to be going. "It's not like there's a law that says I have to." She had a tendency to press me about doing "girly" things.

"I suppose so," she grumbled. "Fine. Go have fun."

What surprised me most was that she actually sounded like she meant it—that she wanted me to have fun—all grumbling aside. She almost never sounded like that, so I hoped that maybe this would mean that something would change between the two of us. I also knew enough that that wasn't likely to happen—ever.

I snuck out without looking back, pushing those thoughts from my head, instead focusing on one question:

Where would Ginny have gone?

I racked my brain, searching for places. The only nearby, mildly large town was Hogsmeade, but the whole place would take a while to search, and I was not the type of person that others told all the shady locations to go—I was widely regarded as one of the "good" kids. Usually, that was a good thing, but for once, I viewed it as a hindrance rather that something to keep me from harm's way.

Luckily, I was also one of the "smart" kids, and I knew what to listen for if I wanted to figure out where someone was going.

I had been sitting with Ginny for a couple of weeks now, and every once and awhile she would mention a place called Hangleton House, but never stayed on the topic for long. From the way her friends always shifted at the mention, I could glean that it wasn't a place they particularly enjoyed—or that they didn't want me to know too about it.

I searched my brain for any other possible locations, but all I could come up with were clichés—the graveyard, the creepy old mansion down the road—nothing that really seemed like a better option than this "Hangleton House."

So, I, naturally, did what later proved to be a very stupid thing.

I asked around—"Hey, do you know where Hangleton House is? Have you heard of Hangleton House?"

The general consensus was either not knowing or wanting to know why I wanted to know.

Eventually, after quite a bit of no luck, I spotted a streak of red hair in a crowd and knew it was her, which was better than speculation and pestering random pedestrians for information, so I decided to change tactics and follow her instead. I was worried at first I may have missed whatever important thing was to happen that night, but as I watched her round a corner into a dark alleyway, I felt in my stomach that I hadn't.

I slipped into it right after her and kept as close as I dared while she knocked on the door.

It creaked open, sending shivers down my spine.

There stood a man who looked a lot like Draco Malfoy, but I knew he was not. "But who can remember pain, once it's over?" he asked.

"Oh, you know me, just let me in," Ginny snapped. "I don't have time to memorize passwords; you know that!" She put her hands on her hips in a very teenage fashion, glaring at him. If I were he, I would have let her pass—when she got like that, she wasn't someone to argue with!

But he just raised an eyebrow at her and said again, "But who can remember pain, once it's over?"

She sighed, thought for a moment, then said, "All that remains of it is a shadow, not in the mind even, in the flesh. Did I get it right?"

He nodded silently and let her pass.

Interesting, I thought. A quote from the Handmaid's Tale.

I paused for a second, then decided to follow. I pulled up the hood of my black sweatshirt and walked up to the door.

I copied Ginny's actions—I knocked, then waited for the door to be opened. The man frowned at me, but then gave the first line and I responded with mine.

He cautiously let me enter, watching me skeptically all the way. "You're new," he said.

All I did was nod, avoiding eye contact.

Inside was what looked like a standard club—loud music, dancing, etc., but there was something about it that didn't feel quite right. Maybe it was the men in black suits standing around the perimeter, or perhaps it was the chandelier made to look like it was constructed with human bones, but it just wasn't normal.

In the midst of taking in everything in the club, it took me a few moments I spotted the cameras located all throughout the room. As soon as I noticed them, though, I ducked my head accordingly, trying to keep my face out of sight. I hoped I hadn't been caught on video—that would be bad. My heart started to pound as the severity of the possible consequences of this began to dawn on me, especially as I saw a few people there that I recognized, which doubled the chances of being caught. I shouldn't have been so surprised to see them, though—especially if this was all what it looked like.

A club of Voldemort's.

It took me a moment to find Ginny again, but her red hair made her stick out, so I caught sight of her soon enough.

She glanced behind herself and made eye contact with me. She didn't seem all that surprised to see me, which definitely shocked me. Maybe she was just that good at keeping her cool. She deliberately looked up at one of the cameras, then put a finger to her lips.

Then she vanished into the crowd, leaving me to only guess what she was trying to tell me.

I moved around, searching for her, across the room, down a few hallways, but I didn't find her again. I did find a few people I recognized as convicted Death Eaters—acolytes of Voldemort—at the bar and on the dance floor. Or just brooding in a corner.

That confirmed my suspicions—Ginny was involved with them. That was when a horrible sinking feeling took over my stomach. How could she be with them? It just wasn't possible. Or so I'd thought, but I wasn't sure if I could actually deny it anymore. However, I wasn't able to ponder all that for long before I noticed a man watching me from a table nearby.

I quickly looked away from him, only to notice another guy watching me from the corner.

Someone bumped into my side.

"So sorry, dear," she drawled. "I didn't see you there." She gave me a twisted smile as she placed a knobby hand on my shoulder.

Decided to bold right about then, but that didn't go quite as expected—

"Not so fast," the woman said, her hand tightening around my arm.

My heart accelerated and I acted on instinct alone. I twisted away from her and squirmed through the crowd as fast as I could, my only goal to make it to the door. In my mad frenzy, I managed to jam myself through the cracked door—someone had just come in—and darted out.

After that, all I did was run. I sprinted down the alleyway, back toward civilization, but they were hot on my trail. It didn't help that I was a pretty slow runner and not that good at being quiet, either.

I was halfway down the alley and they were about to get me when a hand reached out from a side trail, grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me in.

"Come with me if you want to live."

Chapter Release Dates:

Part One: December 18, 2018

Part Two: December 19, 2018

Combination: December 26, 2018

A/N: Yes, there is a Hamilton quote in there. ("Be careful with that one, dear." It's from the song "Burn.") Leave a review and tell me what you think!