Hermione jogged down the platform with her suitcase rolling behind her. She felt so nostalgic. She couldn't wait to buy a treacle tart, read as they steamed through the mountains, and wake up from a nap just as the train rolled into its station, to let them off at Hogwarts. Part of her wished it was for the year, not just a trip to the library. She so missed not having the chance to finish her seven years at Hogwarts… even more than she'd missed her family after obliterating their memories. She had always hoped she'd have the chance to go back to school, as she'd had the chance to go back to the ones she loved, but never thought it would really happen… and she was already preparing herself for having to leave, after only a week of reliving how wonderful it would feel to be there.

Platforms 9 and 10 stood apart from one another, and she glanced down the hall to see several families with groups of children carrying large trunks. She smiled. She shrugged off to one of the many cafes that littered the Kings Cross sidelines and waited for Draco. She bought a tea and watched as the mothers and fathers hugged the young witches and wizards goodbye and sent them disappearing through the platform. She sipped on her drink and felt herself relaxing in this familiar routine… ten years ago, she'd be returning to school with a belly full of dad's best breakfast, new clothes and shoes from mum, and plenty of books with uncracked spines for her to dig into when she got back to Hogwarts for her Winter term. How had she ever taken it for granted?

"Hermione?"

She startled. Neville Longbottom stood before her in a well-tailored, brown suit. He wore glasses, a jade leaf pin over his breast pocket, and he had a trolley cart behind him pulling what looked like… quaking suitcases along with him. Her face lit up at the sight of him. He immediately pulled Hermione into a tight hug. She lost her footing and breath for a moment.

"Merlin, it's good to see you, 'Mione!" She hugged him back, giggled at him in spite of herself. He pat her back happily and released her. He was beaming down at her. He'd gotten taller since she saw him last, she realized. How often did men do that, these days?

"What are you doing here? Heading off on one of your expeditions?" he asked her.

"Actually, no, Professor, I'm going exactly where you are!" His jaw fell open.

"No way! Wicked! We have to share a compartment. Got loads to tell you about—"

"Granger," she heard from behind him. She reflexively closed her eyes on a groan as Neville turned around. She knew he'd recognize the voice even before he saw him.

"Should we board the platform? Or would you rather keep playing touch-and-go with your mate?"

His hair was pulled back somewhat messily, today. He couldn't deal with it falling into his face on the train. He'd always gotten motion sickness from the damn thing, and he wished Granger had found them another way to travel. The teachers never took the train, after all. Why should he have to now, an adult, hiding the rolling ocean in his belly. He grimaced just thinking about it. He had several hours of discomfort ahead of him. He only hoped Granger wasn't planning on filling it by regaling memories of her glory days, and if she was, he would certainly ralph, despite the anti-nausea draught in his thermos.

It didn't take him long to find her. She was sitting in the little café where she could look onto Platform 9 , watching the little kiddies say goodbye to mummy and daddy. "Biological Clock," he figured. Most women liked to look at kids, he supposed. His own mother hadn't been like that. He'd been enough for her. Or, he thought, she simply didn't care.

Carrying an over-the-shoulder bag with him, he headed her way, uncapping an Anti-Nausea potion from the flask in his trousers and taking a swig. Should've had the forethought to make it a 'Sleeping' potion as well….

Then, it happened. Longbottom came seemingly from nowhere—he probably had Draco realized. He'd probably apparated, because of course a teacher like Longbottom would take the train. Of course. And he'd noticed Granger immediately (because who WOULDN'T see her instantly, under that mane of hair?) He saw her eyes light up, the color that came into her cheeks… and the great Draco Malfoy… was jealous.

Made sense, he reckoned. A guy wakes up from a coma, spends a month working with a girl, and hopes that even just for a minute she'd get a little bit of enjoyment from dealing with him… even if he had no such enjoyment from being with her… why? Because you're an egotistical prat, he thought. Everyone was supposed to worship Draco Malfoy, yes? All girls should be shaking and wanting for him, even if they hated him… they should be secretly pining. He hated his father for ever building up this false sense of entitlement. He felt like a fool.

He shrugged it aside, and walked right up to them.

"… have to share a compartment. Got loads to tell you about—" He saw red for just a moment. She hadn't even told Longbottom, the buffoon, that he was coming. He stepped forward.

"Granger?" He saw her dread before Longbottom even heard his voice. He saw the light drain away from her expression. He saw her eyelids come down, and the color under her skin that had triggered his anger melted away. Was that the true feeling he invoked in people? Father had been way off, indeed. Bitterness rose up in his throat like bile. If she was going to insist on being miserable, he could at least add a little fire to the pot.

"Should we board the platform? Or would you rather keep playing touch-and-go with your mate?"

Longbottom looked between them, instantly off his game. "Oh," he said, finally, as the pieces came together. A noise caught Draco's attention. He looked at the trolley cart Longbottom was pulling around. The suitcases on it appeared to be moving. There was something alive inside, for certain.

"What the Hell is that?" he asked, gesturing to the cases. Neville eyed them, pet the cases, and a soft purring filled the air. He turned to Granger.

"It's what I was going to tell you about," he said to her, then turned to eye Draco. He looked between them again. "You two are traveling together?" he asked, unhidden confusion in his tone, a hint of an accusation. Slight betrayal. She took a deep breath. Draco knew it was equally with dread and impatience- having to explain to another Gryffindor prig why she was socializing with the enemy. Blimey, and they all thought Slytherin house was the prejudiced one. At least he wasn't the only one who felt any irritation over the entire situation.

"Yeah," Draco said and Neville turned to meet his eyes. "What's it to you?" He could feel Neville's bewilderment and suspicion climbing. He could also sense his desire to protect Hermione from him. He had no idea who he was dealing with.

Granger- thank Merlin- knew better than to let the exchange continue. She immediately stepped between them. Draco felt the tension coming from Neville dissipate. It seemed all the Gryffindors had a thing for this one, back in the day. Why was he not surprised? That whole lot, a girl gives you one good look and she goes up on the pedestal for several decades to come. Pathetic.

"Neville, it's nothing, really. Draco and I—" he stiffened, and Neville whirled on her at mention of his first name, so casually.

See that, bitch? It is weird.

"...we are working on a project together for The Department of Magical History and Research, that's all," she finished, lamely.

"Right," Neville answered, unsettled by this explanation. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Really, Neville," she continued. "His intentions have been nothing but good on this-"

"His intentions are never good, Hermione. He's a Malfoy, for Merlin's sake."

"And the name of Longbottom holds SUCH prestige," he cut in, sarcastically. Neville's hand twitched toward his wand. Draco didn't miss it. He reached for his own.

"Stop it," Granger said, crossly, looking between the men. "I'll not have you drawing suspicion to us in front of all these muggles. You ought to know better," she spit at Neville. He looked down, ashamed. Draco was disgusted.

"You know what? I couldn't care less. You wanna make time with Granger on the train, Longbottom? Fine. Gets her out of my hair for a few hours. Just do me a favor and stay out of our room when we get to the school, because the thought of waking up, rolling over and seeing you two without your robes on is really just more than my stomach can bear." He turned to Hermione, winked at her, his face cold. "Be seeing you, love." He turned and walked toward the platform. Hermione turned to a very off-put Neville and sighed.

"I can explain," she said.

Hermione and Neville sat in their locked compartment; just the two of them, a pile of empty treat wrappers between them. Neville was puzzling, absentmindedly moving his hand in his hair behind his ear. It was shaggy, she noted, but well-kept. It looked good on him.

"So all this about Malfoy aside, then…" he started, at last, "it sounds like what you're looking for is on that mountain."

"Right," Hermione stated, leaning forward onto her knees, her hands twisting together thoughtfully between them. "Two halves, one path, creating some key... "their wrath,"—"

"That's a tricky part, yeah? Because… I mean who are They? I remember The Kings- the mythology- and what they were capable of. I remember the Mountain of The Sky-Chambers… and legend says that they disappeared, even in the Muggle Lore. No human being seems to know where they went, or whether or not they even existed, at all. But they worked entirely in peace. This notion of them having wrath wouldn't carry. Has to be someone else." Hermione was a bit taken aback.

"Yes," she confirmed, "I didn't peg you for a history buff." He chuckled, waved her off.

"No, no. Not a buff, by any standards." But her eyes traveled down over his body, the body of a man, no longer the boy she used to know... and to pity... and Neville Longbottom seemed to be every bit buff as he prepared to enter his thirties. She blushed. "Honestly, I rather enjoy the muggle conspiracies about Aliens, is all it is." She laughed in spite of herself, blushing for the direction her thoughts had taken, moments before. He laughed at himself, along with her.

"Well. Disappear, they did," Hermione said, looking away. "Everything I found in my research of Ancient Iraq, in Art and Magic points to their existence. The magic there… it was old, Neville. Too old."

"How so?"

"Magic, when separated from its original source, it… it has a certain color… it has facets, like a gemstone. When the magic is young, it's in its raw, pure form. It's white, typically. The older it gets, the more essence of the world around it transfers into it… the energy around it becomes part of the magic itself… and the magic in Iraq was… yellow. It was gold, and amber, barely any white. And some of it was black." Neville's brows went up.

"Black magic as more than just a symbolic expression?"

"I think so. I think maybe that's where it comes from… ancient, amber magic, muddied by impurity of evil intentions... and to be that old, and that potent, it had to have been them, Neville. The foundations of most of the wandless spells we still use today project yellow essence- watered way, way down, until it's almost Ivory in color. I think the Mountain is the vessel. I think it all started there. But who 'They' are to have wrath, is a mystery."

Neville sighed, ruffling his hair off his neck. It made his long head and neck look wider, more childlike… more handsome. That was why she liked it, she realized. She'd always known he had a crush on her in school. She could never get past the school boy he'd been in her mind, but here he was, a successful Herbologist working at the most prestigious Wizarding School in the world, speaking logically and deductively about the project she was working on… she wished he were the one financially funding the project for her. Wouldn't that have been magnificent? They could have traveled the world together... tumbled into bed. But, could she ever be attracted to him, really? Deeply? Would they have chemistry? Or would he too just be... lukewarm? She had no idea. Because every once of her passion was still in a back compartment with Draco Malfoy, stabbing him in the neck. And it would be, she reckoned, until she cut him back out of her life when their work together was over; it was just another reason to push ahead. Now he was costing her dating opportunities, of all the things.

"Two halves, one path, creating a key, their wrath… Truth… some combination of freedom and silence... and The Mountain. That's all they said?"

"It's all we heard. The buzzing was so loud… the chanting. Any idea what 'two halves' might be?"

Neville smirked.

"Well, yeah," he said, leaning forward. "You and Malfoy."

Draco Malfoy woke, drooling on his own arm. He straightened himself out and looked out the window over the rolling mountains; checked his watch. They'd be there in… bugger. 45 more minutes. He sighed. He stretched out his legs and made contact with feet. He jumped, looking around. "Oy! Bugger o—" he looked around him. The compartment was filled with what appeared to be Hufflepuff girls… young girls… maybe 13… all wearing yellow and brown apparel. They'd been trading cards, he realized, but couldn't see what kind.

Son of a…

"He's awake!" he heard one of them whisper. He grit his teeth. What in Merlin's great saggy left nut could they want with him?

"Excuse me… sir?"

He looked to the smallest one, her blonde hair tied back neatly behind her. She was sitting with her knees together, freckles standing on the end of her nose, her lips tight, and her eyes focused. She had a slight Scottish accent.

"You wouldn't be Draco Malfoy, would you?" He was surprised. The rest of them broke into whispers he couldn't discern. The children of Hogwarts had heard of Draco Malfoy? Even when his peers and elders had forgotten him? Maybe life wasn't as soggy as he once thought. He straightened up, shook out his hair as it had come nearly completely out of the knot that had once held it back. He saw a couple of them turn pink. He clicked his tongue inside his mouth and smirked.

Still got it, mate.

"I am," he said, leaning toward her a little. More whispers. "And who, might I ask, are you?"

"I'm Cornelia Johnson-Wood; third year: Gryffindor. I believe… you've met my parents: Oliver Wood and Angelina Johnson?" His stomach turned to stone. The child of not one, but two members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team was sitting before him? And she was… 13? Well they certainly hadn't wasted any time, had they? He looked between all their faces.

"You're Gryffindors, then?"

"Not all of us," she stated, gesturing with her head to the girl by her side, a brunette with cropped hair and a cartilage piercing in her ear that was changing colors as Draco looked at it, from white to pink to red as all of the attention was suddenly on her. "This is Octavia Gemini. She's American. She's a Ravenclaw." She pointed to the three girls across from them. "That's Cassie Reynolds, Hufflepuff, Jenny Bottleborn, Gryffindor also, and Bathilda Yewlitski, also Ravenclaw." She motioned around Draco now, to the girl on the other side of him, so tall and lean that Draco had completely missed her when he glanced past her and out the window. "And that's Julissa Beowin. She's a Slytherin." Draco looked between them all, all their faces and diversities.

"Not enough compartments on the train?" he asked. Her small eyebrows knit together.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why are you all sitting together." He heard a sigh from the Slytherin beside him. He turned to see her roll her eyes.

"Because, Malfoy," she said, her condescending tone rolling off of her in waves, "things are not as they were when you went to Hogwarts. The rest of us don't take part in your… social suicide. We're friends. But you probably don't know what that's like."

Had a 13-year-old girl just told him about himself? He was shocked. And a Slytherin at that! Ten years ago, she'd have been offering to shine his shoes just to talk to him. The world had changed, indeed.

"Well, then…" he said, unsure of what to say, of how much they knew… of what they were expecting from him. "What are we trading?"

"Quidditch cards," Cornelia said, flipping through hers, no longer interested in him. "Want to see?" The others looked just as surprised as he was that she was talking with him freely like this. He glanced at the cards. He pursed his lips.

"How would your parents feel, knowing you were playing games with Draco Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express?" he asked, expecting a reaction. She just blinked at him and smiled.

"I don't know that they'd think much of it, at all," she said. He furrowed his brow, smirking at her.

"And how is that?" he asked.

"They know I can take care of myself."

"She's the brightest witch of our year," Octavia cut in. It was clear she was the best friend—and a little jealous of the words that just came out of her mouth. Classic Ravenclaw. Malfoy looked back to Cornelia.

"Then surely, smart thing like you must realize I've had far more experience and schooling than you have. If I wanted to attack you—"

"Then my daddy would get one of the things he's been wanting since I can remember."

"What's that?"

"To punch Draco Malfoy in the bollocks."

The train rolled to a halt at the outer corners of the Hogwarts grounds above the lake and Hermione stepped off with Neville, ready to be back on still earth. Draco and I? Two halves? Two halves of WHAT? She wondered. Neville motioned to her over his shoulder. "Let's go this way. We don't need the boats or carriages. I need to stop off at Hagrid's to get rid of these," he motioned to his cluster of suitcases still purring and sneezing behind him.

"Neville, there isn't anything dangerous in those, is there?" she asked. He took in a sharp breath.

"Merlin, I completely forgot to tell you! We got so caught up, I… Hermione. Hagrid is sick," he said.

"What?!"

"Nothing fatal, don't panic, but… you know, the giant in him gives him a much longer lifespan, and…. Well, the human in him should already be quite old. He's experiencing some complications in his bones. I went to Romania over the break to get these," he referenced the suitcases. "They're Felinic Arnicia Infantes," he said.

"Of course," she said, looking to the suitcases. "They can deposit healthy bone marrow. I heard of them at St. Mungos when Ginny was delivering Lily. Fellow next door had lost his leg and they were regrowing one from scratch in the lab, poor bugger."

Neville nodded, and smiled. "It's what makes a Skelegrow Potion tick," he added. He reached down and unzipped his suitcase. Little faces of kittens made of what looked like leafy green scales purred their way forward. One meowed at Hermione and she reached to pet her. Neville stilled her hand.

"Careful," he said. "The animal part of them may be cuddly, but the plant part of them is likely to latch on and start working on your bones. Might end up with a third hand."

She snatched her hand back. "Let's get them to Hagrid, then," she said. "He must be in so much pain."

"I wish I could say you were wrong," he said under his breath, and they started walking up the trees toward the path through the forest that Hermione knew from experience would take them to just behind Hagrid's cabin.

Draco Malfoy had just spent the last 45 minutes with a bunch of little girls who were no more afraid of him than they were to share their prized and newly purchased Bigonville Bombers Quidditch cards. Their parents had sprung for their tickets to see a game of them versus the Thundelarra Thunderers over the Holiday break… that's why they were all in yellow and brown, of course. "Team Spirit."

He could see the boats waiting and the horses drawn by the great, ugly Thestrals- invisible though he was sure they were to these little girls- but when he looked for the imposing body of the half-breed giant, Hagrid… he found none. Must've died, he thought, shrugging it off. He was old, after all. It was a shame. There were things he'd been meaning to ask the old nutter.

"Draco Malfoy, where will you sit when we get to the Great Hall?" Cornelia asked him, peering up at him in the dusky semi-darkness that was falling on the grounds.

"I'll manage," he said, looking around at the snow-laced trees, the sun just barely set, still dappling the rocky hillside with streaks of yellow. He hadn't realized he'd missed this, until now. Funny, he thought… he'd thrown away a beautiful home for a garden shack- after he'd fired the gardener… and he was nostalgic over a piece of land. Ridiculous.

He climbed into a carriage and settled in for a ride back to the castle as he watched many of the girls try to cram themselves all into one. He shut the door of his own and locked it from the inside. He needed a moment away from the chatter…

So my daddy can punch Draco Malfoy in the bollocks, he thought. Well. At least they've heard of me.

When the carriage started moving for the castle, he was glad to be away from the train. Already he could feel the sloshing in his stomach calming down, and the girls hadn't really helped it even if they had distracted him from his thoughts for a while: the slamming doors, the empty rooms… the accusations. He shook it off. He didn't need that right now.

I'm sharing a room with Hermione Granger, he thought. Now that's interesting... and boring. He wondered vaguely if she was still a virgin, or if she'd managed to give it up for The Weasel, at all. She'd probably balk at sleeping in the same room with him… would probably wear at least six different pairs of trousers to bed… he chuckled. But that wasn't right, was it? The girl had too much fury, too much passion in her. She couldn't truly be a prude. Maybe just toward him, but… he had a feeling she could throw caution, the rules, and her regrets to the wind in a second if the moment required it… and while he was certain he had the wherewithal to give that moment to her, that mounting desire that would set her free from all her anxiety and trepidation… he didn't plan on it. The last thing he needed was a Gryffindor in love; a lost kitten. He rolled his eyes. No time for any of that... even if it was more interesting than it was boring.

And it was a shame that that was the type of girl she'd be, and he knew she would… because really, she wasn't all that unattractive, despite the teasing he leant her... even with the hair that never ended, her being a little too thin, and the hateful, dark looks she gave him. Even underneath her misery, he could smell the fire in her muggle-born blood. She had always been the least revolting of The Three Do-Gooders, even with her blood status… not that that mattered to him- or anyone else- anymore… he suspected it was why it was so much bloody fun to torment her. It was one of the few things he could control that made him feel, anymore. She had yet to realize, there was nothing behind the comments on her status. Her blood. Nothing but guilt. Once she realized it, his only fun would go out of their relationship, he thought, like air from a balloon. What a waste.

The carriage rolled up in front of the castle doors and he shrugged himself out, looking around for the Do-Gooder in question. He couldn't see her, or Neville's trolley cart of bouncing suitcases anywhere. He narrowed his eyes.

If he dragged her off to the woods for a little 'hands on' I'm gonna—

"Draco? Draco Malfoy?" He turned around and faced a woman he almost hoped had died: Sybill Trelawney. And how had the old cow ever remembered him?

"Hey, professor," he said, unsure of what else he might say to her. They had never been close. He had only taken her one class. Had she really remembered his name? Bugger, she hadn't even remembered it when he was in school.

She grasped him, hard, by his shoulders and slammed him up against the castle wall, away from the doors. He felt her own body rock against the blow as she did.

"Professor, what the HELL?!" he looked into her eyes, prying, wincing from the blow, but they were black.

"He will not know you. He will not remember them. His wand is broken, in spirit. The essence is gone. In the vault—the lost vault—he lies. He waits. He knows you come for him… but he knows not who you are. The one in charge, he waits for HER. Two halves of one whole—the key. You will set them free. And they will change the world. Be ready for battle. The third week of the fifth month. Wear silver."

He shook free and the movement seemed to startle her. She took a deep breath, then a second. She looked at the wall, then to Draco. Her eyes narrowed.

"Oh… who… are you lost, my son?"

"Trelawney! You just bloody ATTACKED me!" he shouted. And without another word, rubbing her left shoulder, she fainted.

Hermione and Neville sauntered up to Hagrid's cabin, which looked quite as Hermione had remembered it, charming and quaint, overrun with pests and weeds. It was a part of the word 'home' for her that would never disappear.

"Wait here," Neville said. "He wouldn't want you to… just… wait here." Hermione paused by the gate, leaning her suitcase against Hagrid's fence. She watched as Neville pulled the trolley toward his front door. She saw him knock, but was a little far off to hear if Hagrid responded… but when he opened that door… Hermione's heart broke. Her hand flew to her throat at the sound from behind the door. Neville quickly grabbed a suitcase, went in, and slammed the door behind him.

Hermione ran for the door, but Neville had already locked it.

"Neville Longbottom, you let me in or I will hex you blind!"

She could hear Hagrid screaming from inside the door. She rammed it once, twice… she pulled out her wand. "Alohamora!" she bellowed. The door didn't budge. She pulled the handle as hard as she could. And then, behind the door, it sounded as though the screaming was abading… he was choking it in a little… it turned to a groan. She heard him coughing.

"Neville?" she asked. Tears had sprung to her eyes. "Hagrid?"

"'oo's that?" she heard from the husky, breaking voice inside. She quickly wiped away her tears, and her mouth with the back of her sleeve. She heard the lock clicking, and Neville mutter a spell. The door opened.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said looking down, his cheeks red. "He never would have forgiven me—"

She slapped him. "Don't you ever do something like that to me, again. I've lost… too many friends." His eyes never left the ground. She bit her bottom lip, reached and threw her arms around him. He backed up into Hagrid's doorway as she did, hugging her back. "I'm sorry, Neville," she said, blinking away more tears. "It was like... like I was back there, back then, I..." she trailed off.

"No, I get it," he assured her, letting her go. He looked a little embarrassed, pink around his ears. She sniffed and took a step away from him. She rushed to Hagrid, laying haphazardly over his bed, his feet stretching across the floor, but she stopped at the imagery… he was covered in the tiny, green, leafy kittens, who were all lightly licking his joints.

"I… is this how they…"

"They're healing him. They can sense the damage to his bones. The sap, their saliva, is like concentrated Skelegrow. But applied topically, and fresh, it has analgesic properties the potion lacks."

Her eyes traipsed over the scene in wonder.

"I've spent the last five years exploring only the root of magical origin… and still, things like this… they amaze me."

From the bed, Hagrid was breathing heavily.

"Is that… 'ermione?" his voice was frail for such a gigantic man. She stepped better into what little light was in his cabin.

"It's me, Hagrid… I'm here."

"Oh… it's good ter see ya…" he started, trailing off. It wasn't long before she heard him lightly snoring.

"I'll come back tomorrow," she whispered to Neville. He nodded.

"I'm just gonna leave these out back in the garden, give them some water for the night… I'll come back for them in the morning. Meet you up at the school, later."

"Right. See you, Neville," she stepped out of the cabin and shut the door behind them. Merlin that had been tough. Why hadn't she written him? She'd become so engrossed in her work... she'd never even asked him how he was… after he'd done so much for her. She felt sick, but she grabbed her suitcase by the handle and trudged up to the castle for the feast, anyway.

It wasn't long before she reached the doors. She opened them, one hand deep in her pocket and the other one pulling her suitcase behind her. Her feet falling on the hall's marble floors were like bells in her ears, and she had yearned for the smell that entered her nose, for years. Somewhere upstairs, she imagined Peeves was going through a new student's Christmas presents, tearing them apart and cackling. She smiled widely. Can't believe I'm finally back….

She rounded the corner and came face to face with a large crowd in the Great Hall, no food on the tables, and a very angry Head Mistress who was looking each and every way- until her eyes landed on Hermione.

"Miss Granger," she spoke, loudly, and the students all looked in her direction, one by one. "So nice of you to join us… now, if you and your partner are done frolicking unauthorized on school grounds, and assaulting my staff, I suggest you join the rest of us in my office. Immediately."