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Chapter Seven

Letters From Rivals

Caitriona,

I'm fine. Two words, short, and simple, but I'm sure it'll bring you the same peace it brought me when you told me the same. It's been a month since I've been at school. Never thought I'd miss being away from home this much. Write me back the moment you can. I won't sleep well until I know for at least a day that you're okay.

D. Malfoy

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at breakfast one morning. She hadn't heard from him in three days, and she was beginning to worry that he was... No, she wouldn't think such thoughts. He was fine if only for the day. She placed the letter in her book bag along with the other fifteen she saved.

Ron sat beside her, and peeked into her bag curiously. "What's with all those letters?"

She snapped the latch closed. "Mind your own, Ron."

Harry stared at her worriedly, an expression he didn't often wear for her. "Hermione, you've been acting... Off lately. What's going on?"
"Nothing," she retorted. "We have more important matters to be worried about than my letters. Look, class is starting soon, lets go."

They made their way out of the Great Hall, but not without Ron, and Harry giving each other meaningful glances, and Ron staring at her book bag as though he had x-ray vision. It might have been Hermione's nerves that have been on edge since the day Malfoy left, but her friends were starting to greatly annoy her. Ron hadn't been this obsessed with something since their third year when she kept the time turner.

Hermione took out the class schedule from her pocket. The first class of the day was potions with Slytherin's. Inwardly she groaned. Ron, and Harry became much more vocal, calling Snape numerous names on their way down the slippery dungeon steps. She assumed this sudden outburst was because Ron hadn't finished his essay on the five most dangerous potions in the 16th century.

They took their stations in the chilly room, Hermione by Nevielle in front of Goyle, and Zabini, and Harry, and Ron in the next row beside them. Hermione followed the directions precisely from the book opened by her cauldron.

"Your concoction should turn purple," Snape informed as he passed the end rows, his black hair greasy as ever.

"Uh oh," Nevielle breathed. His potion had turned a dark yellow.

Hermione bent her head so her hair could cover most of her face. She started whispering directions from the corner of her mouth. Normally she would never condone giving someone the answer in class, but Nevielle always became flustered in Potions. His boggart after all was Snape himself.

She added a leg of a frog, and after bubbling for approximately three seconds her potion was a brilliant deep purple. Exactly the way the book said it would. Snape passed their station without any of his snide comments. It was only the Slytherin's that he passed compliments to, so when he had no complaints for the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, or Ravenclaws it was the best compliment that they could hope for.

"You heard about Draco, right?" Zabini, a rather tall dark boy said to Goyle, a boy that could only be described as brute. "My father told me. The dark lord is planning on having him killed."

Hermione swung around to face them, to see if what she heard was really being said, but her arm collided with her cauldron, and it was knocked off its iron stand crashing to the floor, purple liquid running in rivers through the cracks in the stone. She gasped, and ran her fingers through her bushy hair.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for you clumsiness, Miss Granger."

"I'm sorry, sir," she said watching as Snape waved his wand, and the purple rivers were gone. He gave her a look far from concern, but more peculiar.

She barely glanced at Harry, and Ron, but their expressions in a second told her exactly what they were thinking. She was losing it. She never, not once knocked over a cauldron, and how often was it that she would lose points from their house? All of these is what she should have been worried about, but all she could focus on was what Zabini said. Malfoy was going to be killed. She felt dizzy.

"Your homework assignment is to write me a three feet of the antidote, describing the ingredients, and their origins. Clean up your stations, class is dismissed." Snape sat behind his desk.

Hermione gathered her things quickly. Harry, and Ron approached her as she put her brass scales in her bag.

"Hermione...?" Ron asked unsure of how to talk with her as if she would explode any moment. "What's wrong?"

She was shaking, physically shaking, and couldn't stop. Harry put a hand on her shoulder, and she sniffed. "I - I'm... Going to the library."

"Charms is next," Harry let his hand drop.

"Tell Professor Flitwick I don't feel well..."

"You want us to lie to a teacher?"

"It's not a lie." She slung her bag over her shoulder, and turned to leave them, but Ron's large hand came down hard on her shoulder.

"Hermione, whatever that's bothering you you can tell us. What is it?"

She shook her head. She could never tell them. They could never understand.

Behind them she heard Snape bark, "leave my dungeons!"

Hermione left them bewildered, practically running up the staircases, and corridors pushing past students. She even ran into Peeves in the middle of one empty hallway blowing raspberries at her in the air. She took out her wand, forgetting the rule not to use magic in the corridors, but she yelled, "stupefy," and the rude poltergeist was flown back. I really am losing it, she thought to herself. She was prefect, and shouldn't be acting in such a way. She was ashamed of herself.

Ms. Pince was so used to seeing her in the library that she didn't give it a second thought when Hermione walked in, even though classes had already started. She concentrated on a large stack of books, and Hermione strolled past her choosing her usual seat in the back corner, taking her writing materials from her bag letting it drop to the floor as she dipped the tip of her quill in the ink bottle, and poised it above the parchment.

D. Malfoy,

I wish I could say everything was okay here, but I heard awful news in Potions. Zabini, and Goyle were sitting behind me, and I overheard their conversation. Zabini's father apparently told him that Voldemort was planning your death. I don't know what's going on there, but please, watch after yourself. I know you won't, but I have to ask you to come back here. You'll be safe here, we'll figure something out.

Caitriona

Her handwriting was messy, her hand unable to stop shaking. She folded it, and slipped it into her pocket to send it with one of the schools owls later. She decided that it was best that she go to the infirmary. Maybe Madam Promfrey had something for her shaking, for fear, for nausea, for heartache.

Malfoy had to be someplace nearby, because before she went to the infirmary she sent her letter off. She was out of there in an hour (Madam Promfrey deciding that she needed to check for multiple causes of her symptoms), and when she reached her vacant dormitory she saw a letter on her pillow. An owl could only travel so far in a day, much less an hour. Her heart gave a jolt knowing that he wasn't far from her.

She ripped it open, and the handwriting was much like her own, messy, and barely legible.

Caitriona,

I've known the dark lord's plan for quite some time. He thinks my father is a traitor when he did not come searching for him at his downfall. I'm the son of a traitor, and he will put us to impossible tasks until one of us dies. It is an honor to be killed by him, and we do not hold such honor. To him I'm weak, and as of this morning I'm joining the first battle.

Read this carefully, the first battle will take place at Hogwarts, tomorrow at dawn. I want you out of there tonight. Get as far away from there as you can. I'm not leaving my post, and I don't expect you to either, but I'll ask you anyway. Please, leave.

If you should not leave, I'll hope I don't see you.

D. Malfoy

Hermione heard the chatter of students coming through the portrait. It was their break for the day. She noticed that the letter Malfoy wrote her was bunched in her hands, and she was shaking again. She was going to be sick... They weren't prepared.

She stood out on the balcony of her dormitory overlooking the red, and gold common room. She saw near the windows Harry, and Ron playing Exploding Snap with Ron's brothers Fred, and George.

It was unavoidable. It was time that Harry, and Ron knew the truth...