Another day, another chapter. Just what I needed after the day I've had. I tell you, be it the super moon or something in the water, today the crazies came out en masse. But the work day is over and now I can relax. Oh yeah, and post this chapter. That too.

Enjoy ...

- Chapter Thirteen -

Passion and Control

The tidal waves of emotional polar opposites continued over the next several days.

Feeling that formal education was not exactly what they had envisioned for themselves, Fred and George had dropped out of Hogwarts. Their floating joke shop turned out to be nothing more than a one-time extravaganza, defying the new regime right under their noses. That is not to say they did not leave a few loving reminders of their presence on their way out, of course. It was an event of proportions so great, and growing ever larger with each retelling, it would no doubt belong to Hogwarts' lore for generations to come.

Harry's Occulemency classes had come to an abrupt and complete halt when Harry had taken too much of a liberty in looking into Professor Snape's memories within the Pensive whilst said professor was distracted with other business.

Harry and Hermione had finally discovered the source of Hagrid's reoccurring injuries. It was not some sort of jinx of curse, as they had previously pondered. Instead, it was his brother, Grawp. Half-brother to be more precise.

As it turned out, Hagrid's mother had another son amongst the giants. In Hagrid's attempt to unify them with the Order of the Phoenix, he came across his kin, treated as an outsider due to his lack of size. Such a thought was astounding to Hermione, as Grawp was nothing short of tremendous in stature comparative to any living beast she had ever seen, short of a dragon and the Basilisk.

While related and bound by blood, however, Grawp was wild and dangerous. Regardless of Hagrid's tender attempts to help his brother, the tiny giant was not adjusting well to life in the Forbidden Forest, often taking his frustration out on his even smaller half-giant sibling.

But there was a ray of light amidst the dark clouds that hung low over the school as of late. At least for Gryffindor House. Gryffindor, against all odds, managed to pull off a victory against Cho Chang and Ravenclaw House in their final Quiddich match of the year. This left Ron in a state of euphoria, having been dealt a number of blows to his ego for his lack of skilled play over the course of the season. While Hermione still believed it to be a silly thing to become so invested emotionally or otherwise, she was happy to see Ron have a moment to celebrate. Even Harry, whom Hermione was certain felt the sting of not having been able to participate, seemed to shake off the anger and appreciate the event for both what it was and what it meant.

At the moment, however, there was a period of calm between storms. A brief juncture when Hermione was able to find the time to convince Killian to keep his word. A time for her rematch. And while Killian had already made several excuses to push off said demonstration of dueling prowess, all of which seemed perfectly acceptable, there were none left to be had.

As Hermione stood across from Killian, the Room of Requirement seemed much quieter than it had been over the last several months. Dumbledore's Army was gone. Dumbledore, himself, had vanished from Hogwarts, as well. A darkness had fallen over the castle, mirrored in the cold empty confines of their once furtive haven from Professor Umbridge and her oppressive reign as High Inquisitor.

The OWLs and NEWTs were to begin the next morning. As such, Hermione wrestled with the thought she ought to be studying, but pushed the desire aside. Killian had agreed to meet this night. There was no way she was going to allow him to dismiss it again.

Killian's expression, oddly, was one of restrained contemplation. Hermione could sense he did not want to be there. And while she did not entirely understand as to why, at the moment, she did not care. He made a promise and she intended on holding him to it.

"I'm ready when you are, Professor," Hermione teased.

"Don't call me that," Killian said, entirely unamused. "Interesting choice of location," he added, looking about. "A bit risky, being that Umbridge is now aware of its existence."

"I rather doubt that she has any interest in this place anymore," Hermione said with a hint of frustration. "Aside from that, Educational Decree number 24 specifically defines a group as consisting of three or more students. At my count, I see only two. Let her find us. We're well within her precious rules."

"Well, that was a bit snippy, wasn't it?" Killian pointed out with a grin, the first Hermione had seen since they entered the Room of Requirement.

Verbal needling aside, Hermione could see her point was not lost on Killian. However, he still had not drawn his wand. Furthermore, Hermione noticed, even from the distance and poor lighting the Room of Requirement provided, that he was gritting his teeth.

"Are you just going to stand there?" she prodded, her wand at the ready.

Reluctantly, Killian finally drew his wand, twirling it in his fingers by his side. His eyes narrowed, focused. With a deep breath, he took his place.

"Very well," he conceded. "On your mark."

There was a great amount of tension in face. Hermione could almost feel it. She and Killian eyed each other for a moment before Hermione made her move.

"Stupefy!" she commanded, taking the same approach as the last time they had squared off.

Much to Hermione's frustration, Killian also took the same approach, simply deflecting the spell with no counter attack. Hermione cast several more offensive spells, but Killian did little beyond avoiding, absorbing, or deflecting them. Fury burned through Hermione's very core as she stormed across the room in a rage.

"You lied to me!" she screamed, her face inches from Killian's.

Killian evaded Hermione's eyes, instead looking off towards the walls, ceiling, or any other direction that suited his avoidance. It appeared as though he wanted to say something but was making his best efforts to bite his tongue—a truly arduous task.

"You said you would try!" Hermione continued, uncharacteristically losing her temper and pushing at Killian. "You promised me!"

"Why do you want to do this?" he shouted, an action as equally uncharacteristic as Hermione's.

"Why don't you?" Hermione shot back, unwilling to let go of her anger.

"Because ..." Killian began, then stopped, searching for the right words. "Because I'm not a teacher!" he finally went on. "You already have one! Go run off to him for your Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

Hermione was absolutely certain that was not what Killian had initially intended to say. She could see it in his eyes. There was something more. There was something he was not telling her. A part of her wanted to believe he simply did not wish to hurt her. He had said as much the previous time they crossed wands in the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. However, while that may have been true to some degree, Hermione could sense there was something far greater weighing upon him.

"That's just it," she went on. "Harry is teaching us all how to defend against the Dark Arts! I've learned defense! Teach me to attack!"

"Are you mad? You don't need to attack!" Killian argued. "All you need to do is defend! Defend and run! You have no place attacking! None of you do!"

"Would you run?" Hermione shouted.

Her question silenced Killian right where he stood. Their eyes met without anger, the tense emotion washing away as her Slytherin resurfaced, recognizable once again in the person standing before her. Even so, Hermione knew she had hit a nerve. There was no way Killian would lie to her. Not about this. He would never run. His ego would never allow for it. Now that she had talked him into a corner, he did not even need to respond.

"Don't ask me to do something that you're not willing to do yourself," Hermione said, taking a deep breath as she cleansed her thoughts and took a step back from Killian. "Teach me."

"You don't want this," Killian said, lowering his head, his eyes on the floor.

Again, there was an unfamiliar look about him that Hermione could not place. Like his anger before, this appearance of hesitation, the lack of confidence … It did not suit him well at all. Even as Hermione's own hesitation began to swell, she could not relinquish her desire to know more.

"Yes, I do," she assured with as much confidence as she could muster.

Killian stared at Hermione for a moment. She wondered why he was so hesitant. Was he afraid of being bested by her? He was arrogant, but she thought him better than that. With a deep and thoughtful sigh, Killian proceeded to unbutton his shirtsleeves and loosen his tie, much like he did during their first duel in the woods.

"Passion and control," he said.

"What?" Hermione asked quizzically.

"That is the root of everything," Killian explained, refusing to look at Hermione. "Defensive spells, offensive attacks, every cast is reflective of the passions flowing through the caster. I assume Harry has taught you how to conjure up your Patronus."

"Yes," Hermione said.

"And how is it conjured?" Killian asked.

"The Patronus Charm," Hermione answered.

"Forget the charm!" Killian blasted. "Anyone can say the words! Not everyone can conjure a Patronus! How is it achieved?"

"A happy thought," Hermione began cautiously. "The happiest thought you can think of. Then it manifests itself in your Patronus."

"Exactly," Killian agreed. "And while that works wonders for conjuring a Patronus for your defense, happy thoughts will do very little against your enemy. Pain, anger, fire burning within your soul—these are the allies of your attack. Control them, and they will serve you. Do not, and they will control you. Passion and control. There must be a balance."

Hermione felt the back of her neck tingle as Killian paced back and forth, still refusing to make eye contact with her. She had never heard him speak in such a manner. There was reluctance in his voice so deep and reaching it almost made Hermione want to stop. Her eagerness, now bordering on an insatiable thirst, to experience what Killian knew was the only thing that pressed her on.

"Raise your wand," Killian directed as he finally acknowledged Hermione with his eyes. "Cast."

"Cast what?" Hermione asked as she cautiously followed Killian's instruction.

"It doesn't matter," Killian answered.

"Stupefy!" she commanded unimaginatively.

Hermione watched as Killian deflected the spell with a simple wave of his wand. His expression remained stone-faced, the dim lights and flickering candles defining his features and hollowing the shadows of his eyes.

"You'll have to do better than that," he said.

Hermione cast again to the same effect. Several more followed, each one being deflected as though they were butterflies floating in a breeze being and being preyed upon by a viper hiding in the reeds. She began to doubt herself, a sense of unworthiness rolling throughout her consciousness. As her confidence continued to wane, she had a sudden longing for Killian's infuriating grin, his antagonistic comments, anything other than the personification of emotional vacancy who stood across from her. At least then, she would recognize him again.

"Why aren't you attacking?" Hermione exasperated as yet another cast was deflected away harmlessly.

"Because you do not pose a threat to me," Killian answered coldly. "Use your emotions, your anger! Fear and compassion will only weaken your attack."

She cast again, only to find her spell tossed aside. She did not feel angry, she felt inadequate. She saw Killian standing at the other side of the room, looking at her as though she were from another class of existence not suited to be in his presence. It was a horrible feeling, overtaking her senses, causing her casts to become errant and inefficient even in the most basic sense.

"It's not working," she cried, her feelings of failure pushing her to tears. "I can't ..."

"That ..." Killian said as he swatted away another of Hermione's casts, "is because ..." He paused, closing his eyes for a moment before returning his cold gaze upon Hermione. " ... You are weak, you filthy little Mudblood."

Something snapped. Hermione felt a sudden and overwhelming rage arise within her. How could he say that? After everything that had happened between them? How could he? She straightened up and directed her wand at Killian, who stood at the ready.

"Stupefy!" she cried, her voice wavering with mixed emotions of anger and pain.

It was the same cast that she had thrown a dozen times or more already. This time, Killian could not deflect it away as easily, his Shielding Spell forcing him back as if he had been delivered a raucous body blow.

How could he?

"Stupefy!" she cast again as Killian deflected it with noticeably more effort involved.

Dumbledore's Army had been disbanded.

"Stupefy!"

Dumbledore was gone.

"Stupefy!"

It was his fault!

"Stupefy!"

He knew where they were meeting!

"Stupefy!"

He was supposed to watch out for them!

"Stupefy!"

He was supposed to protect them!

"Stupefy!"

He was supposed to protect her!

"Impedimentia!" Hermione shouted with relentless fury.

Killian, who had been bombarded with the last several casts, could not get his shield up in time and resorted to attempting a counter-jinx. The energies from their wands met in the center of the room, sending bolts of electricity and waves of energy crashing about the duelists, shattering the mirrors on the walls and trembling the foundation pillars.

Hermione, now burning with unrivaled ferocity, leaned in on her cast as Killian planted his feet, bracing himself from the barrage of energy that was being thrust upon him. His hair had come free from its neat tail and now flailed about as if caught in a windstorm.

Slowly, the balance of energies began to shift. Killian was forced to one knee in an attempt to gain leverage. Hermione feel the power pulsing through her veins as she slowly, mercilessly drained away his defenses. Suddenly, with a violent sweep, Killian succeeded in casting off Hermione's jinx, blasting a sizable divot in the solid stone wall beside them. The round was over with Hermione standing, her wand still at the ready, and Killian on his knee, palms to the floor for support.

"E-Enough," he said, breathlessly.

No …

Not enough …

He had failed her!

Hermione's mind felt as though it was no longer her own. The image of a silver I was emblazed in her consciousness, affixed to Killian's Slytherin robes as voices shouted over each other in a violent succession she could not control, bending her will to their own.

He's one of them!

"Reducto!" Hermione shouted in a voice that she, herself, did not recognize.

Already fallen, Killian could barely muster a pseudo Shielding Charm before the jinx was upon him. The effort did little to absorb the impact, and Killian was thrust back in a violent explosion that rung throughout the room. His body crashed high and awkward into the far wall before coming to rest on the floor. Hermione simply stood there, glaring at her enemy as he made a weak attempt to get to his feet before crumbling under his own weight. As she raised her wand high, ready to unleash hellfire upon her wretched adversary, a sickening realization overtook her.

"Oh, my God!" she gasped, the rage draining from her body in a sudden burst of clarity.

Killian was making another painful attempt to rise, his shirt torn, blood trickling from an unseen wound somewhere in his hairline. Hermione lowered her wand and rushed over to him, her heart racing. As she attempted to help him to his feet, however, he pushed her hand away.

"Are we satisfied?" he asked, wiping away a stream of blood that had emerged from the corner of his mouth.

"Killian," Hermione started, "I didn't ... I don't know what happened."

"Congratulations," Killian offered grimly, his cold eyes staring at Hermione as if she were a complete stranger to him. "Class dismissed."

With that, he got up and limped his way out of the Room of Requirement, leaving Hermione on the floor to watch him as he left. What had she done? What had happened to her? Mudblood. He had not meant it. He would never say such a thing to her. Never. He baited her, trying to bring out her rage—a rage that nearly consumed her.

A horrible feeling ran through Hermione as she sat there on the cold, stone floor. It was like a sickness within her soul. She could not take back what she had done, what she had become. As she absorbed this new reality, a sense of desperation overcame her. She could not let him walk away. She had to fix this. She had to find him and make it right again.

Hermione leapt to her feet and raced out of the Room of Requirement. She knew Killian would be heading back to the Slytherin House. She had to catch him before he got down there. She needed to talk to him, to make him understand, to make things back the way they were.

Hurrying down the steps towards the dungeons, a thousand thoughts raced through Hermione's mind. Killian's expression as he looked up at her. The cold empty tone of his voice. His eyes, which had always smiled at her, now staring through her with an empty icy glare. Her heart felt as though it were being wrenched from her chest.

"Having a bit of a spat, are we?" Draco asked with a sneer as he cut Hermione off in the dungeon passage. "On the outs already?"

"Shut up," Hermione said as she tried to make her way past his intolerable presence. "And get out of the way."

"It doesn't matter," Draco went on. "He's in the common room. You won't be able to see him."

Draco's words fell upon Hermione with a crushing weight. It was as if he had somehow stolen the air from her very lungs. Her emotions had so overtaken her she nearly convinced herself to ask Draco for help, to have him get Killian and bring him back to her. Luckily, she gained enough composure to realize that a favor from Draco was something she could never have on her conscience.

"Although it looks like you've been caught out after hours again," Draco added.

"Go ahead and take points from Gryffindor," Hermione dared as she drew her wand to the ready. "See what happens."

"Sure you want to do that, Granger?" Draco asked with another callous sneer. "You don't have your Killian around to protect you!"

"I don't need any help dealing with you," Hermione snapped back as Draco eyed her wand.

Hermione watched Draco as his eyes twitched nervously. He kept a strong facade, but she knew he was little more than a mouth full of bravado. On his best day, he could not compete with her.

"Lucky for you I'm not allowed," Draco finally conceded, raising a cocky eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked.

"On the orders of my father and Professor Snape," Draco explained, "there are no retaliations allowed against Finn. So I guess that takes you off the table then, doesn't it?"

"Why would your father care about retaliations against Killian?" Hermione asked on, assuming Professor Snape had disallowed it for the benefit of his House.

"Are you serious?" Draco scoffed. "You don't know?"

She did not. With all that had happened already, she was not entirely sure she wanted to know. The way Draco seemed to be relishing the knowledge, it had little chance of being something that would bring a positive turn to her current situation.

"His father and my father are affiliates," Draco informed with an air of supremacy in his tone. "For years."

"You're lying," Hermione snapped.

"I'm not," Draco insisted, his wretched smirk broadening across his face. "I was at his sister's bloody wedding this past summer. Although I think I had a larger presence there than he did, roaming off somewhere just after it started. Not much for formal engagements, is he?"

Hermione tried to rationalize Draco's revelation in her mind. The Finns were Ravenclaws. Killian had told her that the first night they met. The Malfoys were Slytherins. But both families were purebloods. That was all that really mattered to a Slytherin in the end, after all.

"Didn't know any of this, did you?" Draco went on. "Secrets, secrets, secrets. What else has he been keeping from you? I'm sure I can fill you in. We practically grew up together, so there's not much about him that I don't know. Do you want to hear about how much of a disappointment he is to his father?"

"You'd know a lot about being a disappointment, wouldn't you?" Hermione chided.

"My father wasn't summoned for a conference with Professor Umbridge about my refusal to accept a position with the Inquisitorial Squad," Draco pointed out proudly.

"That's because you jumped at the opportunity," Hermione mocked. "Killian has more of a backbone."

Draco face twisted. Hermione thought for a moment that he might actually draw his wand. After a moment of sulking, however, he simply shrugged off her comments with a wave of his hand.

"You're just lucky that you're off the table," he said dismissively. "Why don't you go run along back to the Gryffindor Tower before I change my mind and start hammering points from your house?"

Seeing no better alternative at the moment, Hermione obliged. As she walked along, she felt suddenly alone. She had not known Killian at all. How was this possible? She knew him. She knew him! His father's affiliations had no bearing on his own, did they? Hermione, herself, could not decide one way or the other. She wanted to believe that he was the person she had thought him to be, had known him to be. She could not bear to believe that she had lost him.