A/N: First off, I know it's been forever and a day since I last updated and I'm sorry for that so you don't have to remind me. I've been meaning to get back to this story for months and months, but something seems to always come up. And this story takes so much out of me to write that I can't sit down and just write a quick little chapter like I do with my other fics. It takes a lot more work than that. Secondly, this is probably a lot shorter than you guys would like but I always intended to make this an interlude chapter which occurs between chapters 21 and 22. The next one will be longer and I promise to try and stay focused so I can finally finish this fic. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own it, JKR does, and the chapter title comes from an Aerosmith album so I don't own that either.

Return to Eden

Chapter 23: A Little South of Sanity

Running away at dusk from a house in the middle of nowhere on foot was definitely not one of the brightest things Hermione Granger had ever done, but as she looked around and saw nothing but trees on all four sides of her, she thanked Merlin that at least she'd had enough sense to bring her wand.

Of course, it currently wasn't doing her much good since every spell she tried to cast just fizzled out and died. Hermione wondered if it was perhaps a side-effect to the new powers she'd exhibited earlier in the day, and she would have asked Draco but that was no longer a possibility. Not only was she nowhere near finding her way back to civilization but things were different now.

He'd betrayed her.

He'd betrayed her.

He'd betrayed her.

No matter how many times she sounded it out in her mind or what words she put the emphasis on, she still couldn't wrap her head around it. It was unthinkable. It was preposterous. She should be Avada Kedavra-ed for even considering it. Draco loved her. He loves me.

But she'd seen the mark. There was no doubt that she had seen it with her own two eyes, and it scared her, petrified her, to see that black mar on the previously unblemished skin of her lover, to know the man she loved was destined to become a murderer.

So, she'd reacted on pure instinct. She'd turn and ran as far away from that blood-chilling image as she could get. And that led her to her current predicament.

Hermione had tried to Apparate first, of course, but that hadn't worked. She vaguely remembered Narcissa saying something about anti-Apparation wards on the grounds, but she didn't think she'd been listening very hard that day. Too distracted by Draco, she was sure. Without a properly working wand, there was no way to make an impromptu Portkey, and every time she tried the Point Me charm, her wand would just spin continuously around on her palm, as if north wasn't relevant here.

The last tinges of daylight were fading behind the branches and leaves blocking the sky from her view and the chill of night soaked into the air. Hermione pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and continued on, deeper into the forest, hoping against hope she would soon find someone or something that could guide her.

After nearly twenty more minutes of walking and darkness had fully descended, she was ready to settle down for the night and wait until someone came for her. Surely, someone was looking for her. Shrugging out of the cloak, Hermione lowered herself to the ground and leaned against a rather inviting tree, trying to make herself comfortable, as she tucked the cloth around her body, drawing warmth from the wool fabric.

Hermione would never admit it, even to herself, but she was terrified. There was no telling what was in these woods; things that the Malfoys might not want anybody else to know about or possibly things they weren't even aware of.

Either way, she kept her wand in her hand as she started to drift off to sleep, her eyelids becoming heavy. It might start working again at any moment and just the feel of the thin wood against her skin made her feel safer. As if just holding it would make things right again. Slumber was just about to take her under, when she heard it. A whisper just above the nightly noises of the forest.

He will kill you. Your love means nothing

Sleep forgotten, she soared to her feet, nearly stumbling over an uncovered tree root in her urgency, and pointed her wand into the vast darkness surrounding her, the forest around her charged with tension. She spun around trying to find the source of the voice, her wand held out before her like a sword to ward off danger, but there was nothing, only trees and bushes in her line of vision. But that didn't reassure her in the least; her skin still crawled with apprehension.

A foreboding was in the air.

"Who's there?" Hermione asked uneasily, her voice breaking the silence of the area and a tremor swept down her spine. Her inner voice was telling her to run, to try to find her way back to the manor at all costs. There was something out there far worse than a Dark Mark.

The forest was quiet in response, the trees and branches continuing their gentle swaying in the October wind and paying no mind to the terrified girl in their presence. The leaves beneath her feet crackled as she moved in a circle, trying once more to locate the origin of that horrible voice, her courage beginning to dampen as it sounded again.

He will watch your blood run like rivers. And he will laugh as you take your final breath.

It was a hideous sound, like air being scratched over the vocal chords producing a death rattle of wheezing and choking. Hermione could feel the words produce images, horrific and terrifying and filled with pain, in her mind as she felt panic grip her heart fully.

"Who are you? What do you want?" she called into the darkness, fear seeping into her tone, her hands beginning to tremble.

I am your worst fears. I am everything you yourself know. I am the wind, the water, and the earth. I am the past, the present, and the future.

I am you as you want to be.

Luna knew it was time.

The news of Neville's death had spread through the castle like wildfire and even now the teachers were speculating on its cause. Had it been suicide? Or just a fatal accident?

The young blonde girl knew that it'd been neither and although she hadn't actively pushed him off the tower parapet, she had allowed him to die so Ginny could live. She had kept the balance as she always had, even though she had never actively interfered before this school term.

It'd been simple, really, and it horrified her to think that.

It shouldn't be so simple to end another's life.

After the Ravenclaw had deflected Ginny away from the tower, she'd gone up to wait behind some shelves in the room she knew would hide her well. All the pieces had already fallen into place, now the only thing left to do was watch her plan come to fruition.

She had sent him a note: Meet me in the Astronomy Tower. Love, Luna.

The blonde had known about the Gryffindor's crush on her and had manipulated it to her advantage. Just as the spider and the fly, he had arrived that morning with no thoughts of doom on his mind, just the pleasure of the possibility of being alone with the girl he was infatuated with.

She had left a white rose, a symbol of the peace she hoped he would find, right on the section of loose railing, and watched as he leaned against it to study the flower, the bars collapsing under his weight and plummeting to the ground below. There was no chance of bouncing because fate had demanded a death that morning, and she had provided it.

Maybe if she'd been a different person she wouldn't have interfered at all, if her mother had lived and continued to teach her to keep her gift to herself, but Luna knew too many things were happening around her for that to be an option any longer. She had to help, to sift out the strands of possible futures and cast some away while making sure others became reality.

There was too much at stake, and Luna could no longer be a bystander.

Ginny had to live to bring back Tom. She'd foreseen it and saw what bringing the malicious boy into being would do to the balance but not having him alive and in the present would be far worse otherwise.

And now, with Neville and Blaise both dead, as well as one of the girl's twins, for Luna could see everything now that she'd opened her mind completely to the assaulting visions, the next step was to confess to murder.

She had taken Ginny as far as she could go. Ron was the one who needed her now.

So, Luna prepared to move to the next phase in her strategy.

The Ravenclaw summoned a house-elf she trusted to be discreet from her own home. Zicker was old, even for a house-elf, but he'd been in her family's service for as long as she could remember. And by the time he'd arrived at Hogwarts, she already had her bags packed and ready to be transferred to her room at home, because even though magic-folk couldn't apparate on the grounds of the school didn't mean house-elves couldn't.

She also gave the house-elf something of the most importance: a letter addressed to her father, which explained everything that would be happening so he wouldn't worry, to be taken to him at once.

It was time to tell her father the truth.

Her mother had always warned her about keeping her gift secret, and to her, that meant her father as well.

Adriana Lovegood hadn't told her husband about her gift to see the future until after they'd been married, and she knew, even then, that he didn't really understand it fully and was more concerned with running The Quibbler, which had been in his family for three generations.

It wasn't until she had passed on to the next life and he'd found a letter left by her that explained how she had foreseen her death and had known it was her time that he'd truly understood both its power and its danger.

He'd been outraged, and ever since then, there was no talk of future in the Lovegood household; they simply lived day-to-day without worry of what might be coming.

It wasn't hard to do since Luna felt her gift had let her down, for she hadn't seen her mother's death, but she'd only been nine years old at the time. So, Luna had never broken the promise she'd given to her: she resisted the impulse to act on her visions and she never told her father she had them.

But sometimes, she wondered how different her life might have been if she'd first told her father instead of her mother when she began receiving visions. Most of the time, however, she knew from her sight that everything happens for a reason and even if you choose a different path, a different fate will become truth.

There was no fighting destiny.

The blonde knew these things well and understood them as she sent Zicker, stunned by his young mistress's orders, on his way and began the long trek down from Ravenclaw tower, passing the silent stone corridors as she walked, for everyone else was at lunch, and arrived before the opening to Professor Dumbledore's office.

She stated the password to the guarding statue and stepped onto the revolving staircase, taking one last deep breath of air and letting it out before going through the door.

Just as she had imagined, the Headmaster sat behind his desk surrounded by half the faculty and nearly as many Ministry officials crowding the space in the round room. The clamor in the room was nearly unbearable as accusations and retorts flew freely round, but they all glanced towards the door in silence at the sound of Luna entering. Before any of them had the chance to speak, the Ravenclaw declared her intentions in a clear, precise voice.

"I'd like to confess to the murder of Neville Longbottom."

Blaise smoothed Draco's blond hair off his forehead as she made nonsense noises of comfort, his uncontrollable shivering beginning to taper off as he calmed. The emotional upheaval of the last few days had definitely taken its toll on him; he was drawn and pale, his eyelids were heavy above dark circles, and Blaise knew he wouldn't recover without good rest.

Keeping that in mind, she put her hands on his shoulders and tugged upward, her fingers catching in the material of his shirt as he stood slowly.

"Come on, you should go lie down. You can worry about Hermione tomorrow," she said gently in his ear as she supported his weight against her side. "She has her wand, right?" Blaise questioned uneasily, but a nod from her blond companion put her fears at rest.

They moved further across the room and towards the door, Blaise half-dragging, half-carrying the Slytherin boy, when a shout from below startled them both.

"Draco!"

It was Lucius, who sounded both angry and frantic, which was an odd combination when it came to the Malfoy patriarch. He continued to roar his son's name, getting more irate by the minute, as his footsteps sounded closer, their thumping echoed throughout the hush of the second-floor.

The man appeared in the open doorway of the study a second later, and Blaise, even though she logically knew he couldn't see her, took a step back in trepidation at the expression on the elder Malfoy's face and dropped Draco where she'd been supporting him, the momentum causing him to fall to his knees.

Lucius paused for half a moment at his son's strange actions before sense overtook him and he strode angrily into the room, his cloak billowing violently behind him. He came to a stop before Draco, his form nearly filling the room with his emotions as he stood over his son.

"Where's Hermione? Did you find her?" the older man bit out furiously, spit gathering in the corners of his mouth.

Shaking her head sadly, Blaise knew she couldn't do anything more now as she faded back into the ether from whence she came, back to where she could watch. She could tell from the events happening that it wasn't the right time to push Draco any further.

"No," Draco replied sullenly, not even noticing Blaise's disappearance. "None of my Locator charms turned up anything."

Lucius felt himself close to shaking with rage. "Did you go outside and look for her?" he asked, his tone deceptively smooth.

"No," the younger blond stated once more. "I have too much to do here. Besides, it's after dark now."

Draco knew he should have seen the blow coming before it landed, but his breakdown had made him weary and he wasn't running at full alertness. It was a hard pop to the back of the head that sent him crashing to the floor, the spot stinging in pain as tiny white specks danced in front of his eyes.

"Idiot boy! Do you not know what is in those woods?" Lucius screamed at him, beyond all senses now. "Have you not listened to everything I've ever told you about those woods? What your grandfather has told you?"

Raising his hands to shield himself from any more strikes, Draco pleaded with his father. "What are you talking about? The goblins? The imps? Hermione can handle herself fine against all of those," he tried to dispute, his mind working overtime to figure out what the older man was getting at without success.

"No, Draco," Lucius ground out between clenched teeth, "there's a fear wraith in those woods, and in her heightened emotional state, Hermione will be a perfect target for it. It will latch onto her and make her paranoid beyond all sanity." His next words were stated with a severity Draco felt in his bones as he realized exactly what his father was trying to convey.

"Then, she will kill the next person she comes across who she feels has done her ill in the slightest way."

The Lady de Winter had not made it to the ripe old age of sixty-seven without being observant and quick on her feet.

It wasn't very old in magical terms and she was the youngest dowager she knew, but when royalty is added into the equation, one must always reexamine the situation.

She had endured assassination attempts on her husband and herself, rogue government agencies trying to take over, and even a civil war amongst her own family. Though she didn't look it, with her elegant silk garments and perfectly styled hair, Fran knew exactly what it took to survive.

Her instincts had always served her well and right now, they were telling her that her granddaughter was in more trouble than she could handle.

Surveying the suite she'd been given by the Malfoys with a satisfied eye, the Lady spoke over her shoulder to her great nephew who was standing in the open doorway, which led to the fourth-floor corridor.

"Ignatius, what did you sense while we were in the room?" she inquired, her tone indicating the importance of the matter.

The youth rolled his eyes at his aunt's high-handedness but proceeded to answer her respectfully. "She was feeling sad and tired and unsure."

"And now?"

"She feels scared, terrified actually, and exhausted," he replied carefully.

"Hmm," the Lady thought to herself. "Can you sense where she's at right now?"

Iggy closed his eyes and concentrated as a magical pulse of energy sparked down his body like blue lightning. He reopened them and gazed at his aunt mournfully when he found no success. "The Unplottable Charm the Malfoys have over their entire property extends to the people within."

Fran nodded. "Yes, the Malfoys always were notorious for loving their privacy. It doesn't surprise me."

The young man cautiously watched his aunt move about the room as she unpacked her trunk. "So, what do we do now? I thought we were going to take her and leave."

"We were," the older woman stated without any further explanation.

"And now?" Iggy questioned impatiently. "I thought she wasn't safe here."

"She's not," Fran replied, annoyance starting to get the better of her, "but she doesn't know that yet." The Lady placed her things around the room as she began to settle in. "We'll just have to watch and be patient until the situation changes.

"We have to wait for the opportune moment, and then it's back to France where she'll be untouched by the war." A determined glint of deadly seriousness flashed in her brown eyes, so like her granddaughter's, as she spoke to her nephew. "I won't lose another to that monster's cause. Not like last time."

It'd been easier that he'd thought.

Though he hadn't spoken to Ginevra in three or four years, she was still as naïve as ever and just as simple to manipulate. However, he wasn't out in the world yet.

Tom Riddle had been biding his time for years, but he knew the war was just beginning to really brew into a maelstrom and his older counterpart, the less handsome one, would be creating havoc and death any day now.

Tom, for his part, might have only been a memory inside a single page, but he was still connected to his other self as well as the people he'd come in contact with during his brief jaunt outside of the diary years previous: Ginevra, of course, but Potter as well.

The young hero was feeling insecure and disconnected these days and Tom couldn't wait to become solid once more so he could twist both those things around and make Potter suffer even more.

But the green-eyed boy was starting to question his place in things also, and that was something that Tom just couldn't have.

If Potter didn't take up the mantle of savior, then the balance would be off.

Tom knew Lord Voldemort had grown so powerful and arrogant that he didn't worry about such things anymore, but the younger boy knew and remembered them well. And upsetting the balance would be very bad indeed.

Nevertheless, that didn't mean he couldn't play with it.

"Where are you?" Hermione called into the darkness.

In you and all around you, came the reply.

Wand still held out in front of her, she backed up against a tree, its sturdiness giving her the courage to converse with the disembodied voice. "What do you want with me?"

What do you want with you?

"Do you mean me harm?" her voice trembled with each word.

Do you mean yourself harm?

Getting frustrated, Hermione groaned. "Do you always speak in riddles?"

There was no answer to that and she got the vague idea that it hadn't understood her question, but another idea came to her.

"Why did you say such horrible things earlier?" The tone of her voice was small as she inquired, as if she knew she wouldn't like the reply.

I only speak the truth.

"That's not the truth. Draco loves me; he would never hurt me," she stated, knowing that she was right without any doubts to the contrary.

The boy loves only himself.

Fear started creeping into her heart and in her weary state, she couldn't prevent it from taking hold. It was a fear rooted in her own insecurities.

"You're wrong."

He loved his other lover much more. Why do you think he does not search for you?

"You're lying to me," Hermione screamed into the night before she could stop herself, her heart pounding in rage.

Even now, he is caring for her child. Their child.

"No," her head shaking wildly, "he's looking for me. He is."

You were nothing more than a hole to him.

"No," her body was quivering now, from fury as her rationality began to waver.

And you turned out to be a pureblood so he didn't sully himself.

"No."

A pretty pureblood that he could play with, but not what he really wanted.

"NO!" she screamed as her reason snapped, wrath bubbling beneath the surface of her skin and ready to boil over as the fear wraith showed itself.

It was a dark figure of the blackest black and was formed entirely by thick wisps of smoke, and just by looking at it, she could feel the evilness inside so she shut her eyes to the sight.

But it was too late, the specter slipped inside the crack in her emotions she'd created and merged with her mind. All her fear, her paranoia, and her doubts were brought to the forefront, and when she reopened her eyes, they were black.

Tbc...

A/N: So, what do you think? What will happen next? You'll just have to wait to find out. Again, I'm sorry for the drastically long wait, but hopefully, I can keep updating. Please leave me a review if you would. :)