A/N: Well, after last chapter, hopefully I can insert some happiness into this one. I guess it never occurred to me how dark this fic could turn out to be. But don't worry! The ending will be mostly happy, lol. Adios!

-CatJetRat

Chapter 7

Respect

DH

Normal POV

"You know," Hermione said thoughtfully, looking up from Hogwarts, A History, scanning it for clues as to the Founder's possessions, "The House system at Hogwarts is, in all honesty, a terrible idea."

"Huh?" Harry said, tearing his eyes away from Dark Arts Through the Ages.

"Well, just think about it," she said, snapping her book shut and leaning across the table, her eyes lit up. "Humans, by nature, divide themselves into groups and factions. In American schools, people call them 'cliques'. Essentially what the House system at Hogwarts does is it divides us for us. And then we further divide ourselves in our House, by year, or some other factor. And, to further aggravate this division that already often destroys chances to be friends with someone, the school system has created House rivalries through little games, such as Quidditch, or the House Cup. Remember when Ginny broke up with Michael Corner because he was sore that his House lost at Quidditch?" She didn't wait for a reply, but rushed on. "And then, of course, there's the teachers."

"What about the teachers?" Harry asked, now slightly interested.

"Four of them are appointed to be Heads of Houses. And the Heads usually favor their own House, which often leads to students from other Houses resenting that teacher, and therefore that subject. Like you with Potions."

"I think that had a little more to do with Snape hating my guts," Harry replied darkly, looking back down at his text.

"But don't you see?" Hermione said imploringly, grabbing his wrist so he'd look back up at her. "The House system is one of the worst flaws at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, I suppose I see what you're saying," Harry shrugged. "But…try to imagine Hogwarts without Houses. There would be no way to punish students for wrong-doing other than detention and expulsion. Not to mention no competitive Quidditch. And what, would all the students share a dormitory? I don't imagine I would have felt too safe sharing a dormitory with Malfoy. And what, would you like to share a room with Pansy Parkinson?"

Hermione released his arm, looking rather disgruntled. "I suppose not. But there are better ways."

"I'm sure there are," Harry said, slightly amused. "You have fun finding them." He shut his book and stood up with a yawn and a stretch, rubbing his eyes. "I'm going to turn in. You coming up to Gryffindor?"

"In a little bit," Hermione said, a brooding frown on her face.

"All right. G'night."

"Night," she said, flipping the pages of her book.

Harry shook his head, grinning, and headed towards the library door. He opened it, and promptly ran smack-dab into Seamus.

"Oh, hi Harry," Seamus laughed, rubbing his chest where Harry had bumped into him. "Sorry, mate, I was about to return a book." He held up the book he was holding and then dropped it into the return slot. "Walk you back up to Gryffindor?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said.

"So…" Seamus began as they were walking up the marble staircase. "What's up with you and Ron?"

Harry's head snapped around. "What do you mean?"

A soft laugh escaped Seamus. "Come on, Harry. Everyone knows that the two of you are best friends, and yet you haven't been speaking to each other for weeks."

"Is it that obvious?" Harry muttered, embarrassed.

Seamus shrugged. "If Dean and I stopped talking, would you notice?"

Harry nodded. "Probably."

"That's what it's like. I don't know how much anyone else notices, but we all share a dorm. Changes in behavior don't go unnoticed, especially drastic changes, like that. We all knew why Ron wasn't speaking to you in fourth year, because of the Triwizard Tournament, but now it's just confusing." Seamus looked at Harry rather expectantly.

"It's stupid," Harry said. "Ron thinks that Hermione and I have something going on."

Seamus stopped dead. "What?!" he exclaimed. "Is he blind?"

"Er…I guess," Harry stammered, a bit confused.

"Oh, well, I just meant, it's obvious that the two of you are just friends," Seamus added hastily, stumbling slightly over his words.

"Okay," Harry said, still a bit bemused, but for some reason quite unwilling to try and find out more. They reached the Fat Lady. "Fruit fly," Harry said, and the portrait swung open. The common room was nearly empty, except for Ron, who was sitting in an armchair over by the fire, doing homework. He stiffened almost imperceptibly when Seamus and Harry came in, but otherwise gave no sign that he noticed them. Seamus rolled his eyes and hurried up the stairs. Harry hesitated.

"Ron," he began.

"Don't," Ron said shortly. "Just…don't, Harry." He began to gather up his things.

"Look, there's nothing going on between Hermione and me!" Harry cried desperately. "Why won't you believe that?"

Ron froze, hands clenched over The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Seven. "That's not the point, Harry," he said in a quiet voice. "Even if the two of you aren't dating each other…you spend all your time together. You've almost completely cut me out. There's something you aren't telling me, probably whatever it is McGonagall told you when she took you to Grimmauld Place, but I know Hermione knows!" Ron looked up, and his eyes were shining with a hurt that made Harry's stomach cramp. "At the end of the summer, we were all in this together. Then you left, and it's like you came back an entirely different person! You yell at Ginny, who you were madly in love with just a few months before, you pull Hermione out of the Great Hall during Sorting to talk to her about something I'm not allowed to hear, and on top of that you practically ignore me every day! What the hell is going on, Harry?"

Harry faltered. Though he hated to admit it, Ron was right. Harry had changed, though he couldn't figure out how or why. But Ron was wrong about one thing—it hadn't just started happening. It had been going on since the beginning of the summer, and had seemed to intensify the more he realized that he and Ginny would probably never get back together. He felt…careless. Reckless. He was fired up, getting ready to face Voldemort once and for all, and yet he was back where he started. At Hogwarts, researching with Hermione. It all felt so…pointless, and Harry couldn't remember why he'd agreed to come back to the place.

"You're right," he agreed. "I have changed. But so has Hermione. The only problem is that you haven't as much! What few changes have occurred have been for the worse! Like the way you treated Hermione last year. You knew she liked you, and yet you snogged Lavender Brown in front of her! When you were nervous about Quidditch, you mistreated the rest of the team. When you didn't want to date Lavender anymore, you were too much of a coward to break up with her yourself. Ron, you're just…I dunno. I'm sorry if I'm acting like I can't trust you, but the fact is that I can't! You just haven't given me too many reasons to trust you lately."

Harry fell silent, staring at Ron helplessly. Ron's back had gone rigid, and his ears were bright red. He looked on the verge of explosion, but then, just as quickly, all his anger seemed to fade, and his face grew quite blank.

"Goodbye, Harry," he said quietly, and gathered up the last of his books. He tried to walk past Harry, but Harry grabbed his arm.

"'Goodbye'?" Harry repeated in astonishment. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you can find your bloody Horcruxes on your own!" Ron snarled, ripping his arm away from Harry's hand. His books spilled out of his arms. "I don't give a damn anymore. You can't respect me enough to trust me? Fine. Trust Hermione. Trust Seamus. Trust Lucius Malfoy for all I care! Leave me out of it!"

"Ron—that isn't what I meant!" Harry said anxiously.

"What did you mean, then?!" Ron bellowed.

"I just meant I want you to be a little bit nicer, you know, give me more reasons to trust you!"

"Will this do?" Ron whipped out his wand, pointing it at himself. "I'll Obliviate myself so that I have no memory of anything you've ever told me. That way, I won't relay it to Voldemort at the Death Eater meetings I attend so frequently!"

"Ron—" Harry said wonderingly.

"And then maybe I'll end up like Lockhart! Or, better yet, I'll think I'm eleven again and be like that! I'm sure you'd like—"

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed.

"What?" Ron snapped.

"You—you said Voldemort's name."

"I—I did?" Ron asked uncertainly.

Harry nodded quickly. "You did."

"Oh," Ron looked down. "I guess I did say…Vol-Voldemort."

Harry smiled. "That's a damn good reason to trust you, and respect you."

Ron shrugged. "Why?" he asked, almost inaudibly.

"Because if you don't fear his name, you must not fear him as much," Harry said.

Ron grinned. "I'm not as afraid of him as I used to be, am I?"

"No, you're not." Harry grinned broadly. "All right. Sit down. You're going to want to be sitting down for this."

After casting Muffliato and placing a silencing charm around where they were sitting, Harry told Ron all about the continued existence of Draco Malfoy.

HBP

It took her eight months and twenty-three days to crack. She wasn't entirely sure what was so special about the twenty-third day of the eighth month. Perhaps it was the fact that she had stopped sleeping about ten days before, and stopped eating two days after that. Perhaps it was the sight of her own, tortured body lying on the cold stone slab again. For lately, she was the only person she wanted to torment. Herself.

"Please don't make me do it anymore!" Mnemosyne cried out, sinking to the ground and clutching at her heart. "Please! There must be an alternative price!" Her face was gaunt, the skin underneath her eyes slowly turning gray, now wet with the tears pouring down her face onto the cold stone below.

"Hmm. I didn't think you'd last this long."

Mnemosyne looked up. The person who'd spoken had not been the evil man of before. Now it was a woman. This woman, like the man, was rather unremarkable, with short, drab brown hair, a slightly overweight appearance in gray sweatpants, and expressionless eyes. But it was her chest which fascinated Mnemosyne the most. She was topless, but instead of showing her bosom, faces and situations played across what appeared to be empty air. There was absolutely nothing to connect this woman's head, shoulders, and arms, to her waist. Mnemosyne focused on them, and images appeared. Images of Skye, laughing as Mnemosyne sprayed her with a water hose. Skye, moving shyly towards Mnemosyne the first time they kissed, and Skye, curled up in a ball against Mnemosyne's body the morning after the night they made love.

Mnemosyne cried out, reaching towards, the pictures. Of all those people Mnemosyne had seen and tormented as her darkest fantasies, even fleeting ones she didn't remember having, were played out, the one person she hadn't seen was Skye, because all she'd ever felt towards Skye was love and affection. Skye had been the one person she would never dream of harming. Mnemosyne paused, her hand halfway to the images. But this couldn't be real. Skye was back in America. Skye thought she was dead. For all Mnemosyne knew, Skye might be dead as well.

Mnemosyne's hand dropped limply back to her side as she wrenched her gaze away from the tempting images.

"Well, it seems that my counterpart was correct. You are worth my time after all," the woman said, voice colorless.

Mnemosyne couldn't even summon the energy to form a scathing, sarcastic reply. When she spoke, her voice was heavy, as if every word she forced out drained all the strength from her limbs. "Please. Let me pay another price."

"Come here," the woman said softly, after a moment.

Mnemosyne dragged herself to her feet and began to walk the few meters towards the woman. Every step she took was an effort; it was like trying to walk through half-hardened cement. Each time she inhaled, the breath she took felt like the breath she'd just let out. Finally she reached the woman

"Look at me," Evil's counterpart said.

Mnemosyne moved her gaze up to meet the woman's, eyes dragging past her chest. She almost stepped back when their gazes met, but managed to hold firm. Mnemosyne had been wrong, there was something remarkable about this woman's eyes. They were exactly like Evil's tie. She grabbed the front of Mnemosyne's robes, choking her.

"You want to know the amusing part?" she hissed, voice no longer prosaic. "His pitiful little soul was only worth a month of your time." She threw Mnemosyne backwards, and Mnemosyne saw the veil come into view. "We shall return him to you in three months, seven days. The time when your payment would have ended."

"What will you do to him?" Mnemosyne asked shakily, standing up. Evil's counterpart glared at her.

"Nothing, unfortunately we can't touch him due to your extra payment. But we also cannot release him until your time is up. Go, and he shall be returned to you in three months, seven days. GO!" On this last word, Mnemosyne was thrown violently from the veil and into the courtroom. Panting hard, she looked around and let out a shaky sob of relief. She was back. Even the air smelled better. Shaking her hair from her eyes, Mnemosyne Apparated to Hogsmeade.

She appeared on the road leading from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. She wrapped herself in a cloud of invisibility and walked quickly down the road, determined to tell Dumbledore what had happened. Mnemosyne went through the gates and sped up, then, almost as quickly, began to slow down, until she came to a full stop, staring at the Forbidden Forest. The trees were stirring, and whispering to each other. Then they called out to her. She turned away from the castle gates and seemed to float, dreamlike, down to the forest. She paused before entering it, and then emerged into the cool comfort of the trees.

Wind flew around Mnemosyne, bringing up leaves and pulling her deeper into the forest, a welcoming hug. Her eyes lit up as she came upon a stream. She knelt down beside it, and immediately the water began to rush faster, as if eager for her. She dropped her shielded form.

A crackle of leaves brought her harshly back to reality and she whipped around, wand out. It was a centaur. As Mnemosyne watched, more and more centaurs joined him, until she was surrounded. She observed their hard faces idly as they raised their crossbows at her, arrows notched in them.

"Human," one of them said harshly, the anger in his face mirrored in those around him. "You should not be here, in our forest, beside the protected stream!"

"Magorian," she said in a light, almost teasing tone. "I'm surprised that you allowed the magic of humans to affect you. I thought centaurs were above that."

"We are!" Bane said hotly.

"Yet you do not remember me," she said, amused. "I can't believe you'd allow a measly little human's memory charm to affect you so greatly. I will have to hold it against you, Magorian."

Magorian lowered his bow slightly, confusion, but also a frank amount of suspicion, evident in his face. "What are you talking about, human?"

Mnemosyne gave a long-suffering sigh, and waved her hand, instantly returning all of their memories. They staggered on their hooves, and several of them accidentally let go of their crossbows. Magorian was the first to recover. He turned a sharp eye on her, new understanding reflected there, before lowering himself to the ground, bowing his head.

"Forgive me, my Lady," he said respectfully. "I did not know."

"I understand," she said gently, as, one by one, the other centaurs knelt before her as well. She reached out and lifted up his chin, until she was staring straight into his deep blue eyes. "Are you still my ally?"

He rose up, gripping his bow tighter. "I am, my Lady. I am sorry that we forgot you, I truly am." His face hardened. "It was that fool Dumbledore. The one who coerced Firenze into coming up to his school to betray our secrets to humans."

Mnemosyne's face hardened. "Yes, I must say, I found that rather disconcerting. But I must leave. I have much to tell Dumbledore." She stood up, and Magorian looked rather startled.

"Oh, are you leaving already?" he said sadly. "I wish we could speak more."

Mnemosyne shook her head. "We have a war to fight, Magorian. I have little time right now. I will speak with you when I can. Wait—" She paused in the act of turning towards the castle. "What day is it?"

"March 1st, my Lady," Bane spoke up.

"Thank you," she said, bowing to them. "I shall meet some of you again. Farewell."

Ten minutes later, again wrapped in invisibility, Mnemosyne was striding through the halls of Hogwarts, avoiding the students, fear making her hurry. Merlin only knew what had gone on in her absence….

DH

Hermione shifted restlessly in her seat, watching Harry and Ron gossip. While she had been pleased to hear that they were friends again, now, again, they were ignoring her in favor of each other. It was true that she was no longer interested in Ron, but still, she thought irritably, that was no reason for them to no remain friends.

Relief coursed through her as the bell rang, and she quickly gathered up her things, rushing from the Potions classroom. A few hours away from the two of them…that was all she needed.

Hermione sought refuge in the library. Madam Pince smiled at her, and she smiled back. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that she was the only student Madam Pince ever smiled at, and only when she was alone. Hermione slipped through the maze of shelves, looking for her favorite spot, a table hidden. Truly, this was what a library should be, she thought justly. At her Muggle school there had hardly been any shelves at all, side from the ones lining the walls. It would be impossible to lose yourself in there. Here…here she could create hundreds of worlds, and get lost a million times over and still not uncover all of the library's secrets.

As she neared her hidden table, she thought she could hear someone cursing quietly and giving little sighs of pain. Worried, she quickened her pace, while trying to stay as silent as possible. Carefully, she peeked around the corner.

Pansy Parkinson was curled up in Hermione's favorite chair, wincing and trying to reverse a Stinging Hex which someone had managed to make stay on her and continue to sting her. Every few moments she winced as a new welt popped up from a sting. However, all of her efforts to reverse the damage only seemed to make it worse. Hermione suspected that whoever had cast the curse had made it so that Pansy could not remove the curse herself. Hermione watched a bit longer, and, after a moment, realized that they were spelling the words "Stupid Death Eater" on her arm.

Finite. Hermione cast a nonverbal spell, and the welts stopped coming. Pansy paused, as if unable to believe that they'd stopped, and then set about trying to heal the weal's that were already there. They worsened as she did that, and Hermione cast another nonverbal healing spell. They vanished, and Pansy seemed relieved, though she didn't appear to notice that someone else had helped her.

She ran her hand through her blonde curls, and let out a little moan as her hair began to fall out. Hermione, unable to deal with the pity she felt swelling in her chest for Pansy, cast a nonverbal hair regrowth spell. Unfortunately, Pansy noticed this one.

"Who's there?" she asked sharply, drawing her wand. "I'm telling you, I've had enough of being hexed!"

"It's just me!" Hermione exclaimed, raising her hands and stepping out from behind the bookshelf. Pansy's eyes lit up with fury.

"Granger! What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Hermione shrugged uncomfortably. "I just wanted some peace and quiet. I saw you were having a bit of trouble and decided to help."

"Well I don't need your goddamned help, Granger! It's none of your stinking business what happens in my life!" Pansy shouted.

"Look, I know you don't, I just thought—"

"What?" Pansy spat. "What did you think? That you could solve all of my problems with your big brains and your bushy hair? That the evil Slytherin would bow down before your genius and repent from her sins? I'm not evil, I'm not a Death Eater, and I'm not weak!" Her cheeks were flushed; she looked absolutely livid.

But…underneath that was an emotion Hermione never thought she'd see within Pansy. It was fear. Pansy was afraid. And it was in that single moment of understanding that one fact that Hermione grasped them all. Pansy was not a Death Eater. Pansy's family did not consist of Death Eaters. But Pansy was assumed to be so because she was a Slytherin and had been friends with Draco Malfoy. And now, not only was she not guaranteed Voldemort's protection, she also had the side fighting against him hurting her too. Hermione's throat clenched.

"I know you're not weak," she said, speaking very carefully. The wrong word spoken could spell disaster. "It was just—I recognized that Stinging spell and saw that you wouldn't be able to remove it on your own; it was charmed that way. Then I saw your hair and I guess I got a bit carried away. I know you could have done it on your own."

Pansy stared at her, breathing heavily, as if she had just run a race. "Fine," she said shortly. "Thank you for your help." She then grabbed her bag and swept away.

Hermione sat down in a seat, staring after her. Pansy Parkinson had always been cruel, vicious, bigoted, and ugly. But now….It wasn't that she had changed over the summer, more that perhaps Hermione had never truly seen her in the first place. She had changed in appearance though, her face maturing beyond pug face, hair falling in waves around blue eyes, more serious than Hermione had ever seen them. Pansy was dealing with the cruelty of the other houses with grace and pride, refusing to tell anyone about the ill treatment and declining to get treatment for her injuries. After a few moments, Hermione realized that she was experiencing an emotion she had never, in her wildest dreams, imagined she would have for Pansy Parkinson:

Respect.

A/N: I changed the title because I realized that the old title had nothing to do with the chapter. So now that chapter title's changed, lol. Sadly, it doesn't appear that I will be finishing this before the seventh and final book comes out, and I wonder why I even bother. Perhaps because I love the story so much. Perhaps because a small part of me believes I can finish it. Well, at least I know one thing. It's not for the bundles of reviews I receive for it! Lol, I'm just messing with you guys. Kind of. By the way, has anyone tasted the new Skittles flavor? Carnival, Limited Edition. Trust me, they're really good. Anyway, REVIEW! Lol. Adios!

-CatJetRat