So, its been a long time, Happy Holidays and all that. This is a larger preview of Chapter 5, as you can see it stops abruptly, that means I'm still working on it, and sad as I am not to release the rest, it still needs a lot of work.

BUT, I am rewriting this fic, and I've posted the much-elaborated on Chapter 1. If you'd like to check it out go ahead and tell me what you think. And I am writing a story – like a real story, with my own characters time consuming. Again, sorry it's taking so long. And, again, if anyone would like to apply as a beta-reader, I'd appreciate it . . . mine sorta' disappeared . . . eheh.

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In the distant but not so far off future

Shivering gray sunlight pushes through dirty windows and drops to dust slowly dancing on wood floors. Soft light drips onto an old dusty room full of books. Books from anywhere, written by anyone; about everything and nothing, lay in towering stacks of so many colors and texts and sizes, too, too many to ever begin to count.

Old hands stoke one beloved spine after another; each time hovering almost reverently, halting as if asking permission, and then reaching one thin and bony finger to gently caress the spine of another book from top to bottom.

Ancient fingers find a thick book with an untitled cover, once so beautiful to look at and now, like the owner of the hands, has lost its former magnificence in the sands of time as they swept past.

The book opens to a page containing a picture of three grinning and wildly waving children, shoulder to shoulder, with their backs to green fields and a sparkling lake.

Sharp brown eyes, never dulled by time or too many late nights reading with next to no light, softened with tears.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered, "whatever happened to us?"

She flipped through the next few pages and stopped at one of her and Draco Malfoy arguing, while Harry looked on and grinned. Her memories, like so many fragile spider webs, trembled from the light touch. She could remember the day that picture was taken.

In the distant but not so far off past

In the tallest, steepest tower of Hogwarts there resided a tower. This tower was filled with a sense of forgotten memories and hope long forgotten. An aged staircase spiraled all the way to the top of the tower, so frail that the slightest, most careful step would upset its perfect balance and send the whole thing tumbling down, never to be recreated.

This staircase led to a room, the highest, smallest room in the entire castle. In the room there was a bed and nothing else, just a bed and a stone floor. It was a bed, in the furthermost corner of the room, bedecked in dusty blankets and quilts. Upon this bed lay a princess with beautiful curls, most likely just as dusty as the bed and if she ever moved, the dust would float up to dance in any stray beam of light. But she never did, never sat up, never spoke or laughed. She never moved her lips, her eyes never flickered and she never read.

Well, all right, that's a lie; in fact it's pretty much all bullshit. It wasn't really the tallest tower, or the highest room. The staircase wasn't really all that fragile and she wasn't really all that asleep. There wasn't a bed either.

In fact, it was the third tallest tower and it was the second highest room in that tower; nowhere near the highest room at all. And it wasn't a dusty princess's room either. It was just the room of the current head girl of Hogwarts: Hermione Granger, who most certainly would never allow dust where she lived.

And, really she wasn't sleeping, or even sitting. She wasn't alone either; there were two other people in the room. However, these two were reclining on a couch and looked utterly at ease compared to the frantically pacing Hermione.

"You've got to be kidding me! What were you thinking?" She glared at the two hotheaded idiots across from her.

Draco Malfoy began to open his mouth, "Shut the hell up, Malfoy! I don't want to hear it! Here, I let you go on this mission alone, thinking you'll be calm and handle the situation. Then you had to let your true stupidity show through and turn this into a mess. What were you thinking?" Her eye twitched spasmodically, her fingers trembled; they itched to hold a wand; to curse something, namely an albino ferret.

"Hermione, luv, that's the fifth time you've asked Draco what he was thinking. I think, perhaps, he might understand the basic human language. You don't have to repeat it anymore." Harry muttered from the corner of the couch, huddled behind a pillow. Hah! As if a pillow could protect her.

"If he's so stupid as to not understand my instructions before he went to collect you, perhaps if I repeat them enough he'll remember them for next time."

"I thought there wasn't going to be a next time."

Hermione swept her gaze back at Malfoy. "Not anymore there won't be." She turned to look at Harry again. "But really Harry," Hermione looked at her, half reproaching, half threatening, "how could you let him go without at least making him swear to an oath or, or, obliviating, or something! Reckless behavior only causes problems!"

"Hermione," Harry had the decency to look a little ashamed. "I don't know what to do anymore, it's been four years and every day it's harder. Snape keeps finding out, and I can't focus and I made a mistake- I know! But what if he finds out again, only he doesn't catch me — what if he catches you, or maybe Madam Pomfrey, or Draco? I don't want you getting caught for something that's my fault. Add to that Dumbledore knows something. How could he not? This way, at least we'll know what Snape knows and if he betrays us, then we can obliviate him or something, but still have the information. And it was you who told me to trust people more, Hermione."

"Way to guilt trip me," Hermione admonished.

Harry grinned cheekily back at her.

"If I may intrude, there's a little something I think need be discussed." Draco interrupted.

"What?" Hermione snapped.

"Not to make you think that there are any happy feelings betwixt my godfather and myself but the fact that we've cast obliviate so many times worries me a bit. We all know too many times and a person's mind will go on a permanent vacation. It'll be mighty suspicious if the esteemed Potions Master Snape starts walking around not knowing the difference between a Swelling Solution and a Deflating Draught. Can you think of an alternative solution, oh, Miss Esteemed Bookworm?" Draco sneered.

"Well, before I do anything, I need you to shut up. Let's see, if we give him a potion he'll probably detect it. Legilimency might be a viable option. Maybe if-"

"-No, he's an expert, unless you know someone stronger with a better technique, that's screwed too-"

"-Well, maybe if we force him to take the potion-"

"-He never will-"

"-But if it's the only way he'll find out-"

"-He'd blackmail us or flip the tables somehow. I thought you were clever; can't you come up with a solution that doesn't result in everything landing tits up?"

"Well you come up with an idea then, if you're so clever!"

"Fine then I will- I-"

"FLASH!"

"AAGGGHHH!"

Harry looked resigned, "Hello Luna. Where did you get the camera?"

"What if you made him swear to an Unbreakable Vow?" she suggested.

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And the plot thickens . . . so yah, there it is. Driving is scary, send me a review and I might venture out of my non-moving mountain of blankets. Toodles!