Hermione's eyes opened in a room that was not unfamiliar to her, though she hadn't stepped a toe inside in years. Pale green walls that expanded up to the cream ceiling were broken up by accents of her childhood: a shelf with stuffed elephants and giraffes… a Map of the World with every color of the rainbow to identify the indigenous people of the world—and stickers to indicate the places she wanted to travel… and two windows- one overlooking the driveway where her mother parked their station wagon… and the other, the back yard, with the double-swing set where she and Elsa would play for hours whenever Elsa's mother had to stay late at work. She sat up in the twin bed she occupied until her late teenage years when she, Harry and Ron had disappeared into the Wizarding Word to search for the Horcruxes. The lavender bedspread was warm against her, like she'd just awakened from a long nap. But… how had she gotten here?

She let the covers slip over her belly, and looked down to see a white, silken nightgown that stretched to her ankles. She couldn't remember putting it on. She couldn't remember owning it….

She let her feet touch the cold, pine floors and she stood. She felt amazingly well-rested. You'd think she'd have been in a bloody coma. Suddenly, she realized she very well might have been. She couldn't remember what she'd been doing… she couldn't remember what she was supposed to be doing.

A slight creaking grasped for her attention and she turned to face the ivory rocking horse with the lilac mane she'd ridden until grade school, when it had… broken, she recalled, after a particularly nasty spat with Elsa over- of all the things- The Spice Girls. It was gently rocking forward and backward as if a breeze swayed it. But the windows, Hermione noticed, were both closed. Brows furrowed, she walked to it. Her fingers glided over the handle on the horse's temples and it stilled. But what had moved it?

In shadows, we have walked…

She startled, listening to the whispering voice that was singing into the air. It was neither male, nor female, but seemed to be everyone and everything at once. A chill took her spine in its fist.

We scratch and sneer and hold you back. Now, quickly, lest this fog hold fast… Show us where you'll always go to fight the fears that dwell below….

Hermione let a breath slip out of her. Again, her eyes scanned the room. The rocking horse was rocking gently under her fingers. This wasn't her room, she realized. This 'fog' she was feeling… it was temporary. Someone, or something was doing this to her. And, she realized with relish… it was a riddle.

She walked to her bed and sat down. When she was young, was there a place she'd go when she was afraid? She remembered vaguely when her Great Uncle, Tesla, had fallen down drunk and belligerent in the guest room and the noise had scared her. She'd dived under the bed, back then. Quickly now, she crept down and crawled underneath. She waited… nothing.

She swore quietly under her breath and crawled back out. Not there, she discovered. She tried hard to remember… but Merlin, it all seemed so long ago… she felt as if she was struggling to remember the memories of someone else that had only been recalled to her once before. She sighed.

"The fears that dwell below," she whispered to herself. Somewhere in the room she heard a giggle between a baby's croon and a hyena ready to strike. She swallowed around the lump forming in her throat. It was tight and dry. "Well, that wouldn't be actual fear then… more like… anxiety. Trepidation."

She rose and walked to look at the window. Her swings! Whenever she'd been stressed out about anything, ever, she'd look to her swings. Something about the rhythmic back and forth had always helped to her to set things straight in her head. She hustled toward the window and reached for the bottom of the frame to lift the glass. Her fingers slid up over nothingness. She looked down. The windows, she noted… could not be opened from the inside, but only from the outside.

"Well. That's not really fair then, is it?" she asked the voice, which seemed to be enjoying itself. She crossed her arms over her chest and thought. Riddles, in her experience, were never unsolvable… you simply had to go at it from the right angle.

She closed her eyes and instantly, she felt as if she were swimming… the fog was increasing, she noticed. Already, her own name sounded strange in her mind. It wasn't going to be long before she had scarcely any memory of herself, or this room, at all.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. Fighting my anxiety… where do I go? And then, suddenly, she understood. For many, they were defined by their loves, their hates, their fears… There was only one place you could ever go to truly face those fears… to face yourself. As soon as she thought it, it appeared- the one item that had been missing from the picture. A full length, white trimmed mirror stood from floor, nearly to ceiling across from her bed. She watched herself rise off the bed and walk toward it, and slowly, she filled the frame.

You face yourself as you must do, and only inside can you know what's true. You'll find yourself among the many, unsure, unknown, and quite unsteady… every moment you could dread is lingering inside your head, so place your hands upon their twins and relive with us your greatest sins.

Hermione raised both hands, her nightgown tickling the tops of her feet as a light breeze took the room, suddenly. She took a final step toward the mirror, and placed her palms against it. She closed her eyes and felt the room spinning around her. She felt as if she might pass out, when suddenly, her feet were on solid ground.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. A playground, she realized. Layered bricks surrounded the sandy pit, separating it from the grassy area with swings and a large, rotating slide. Elsa's mother used to bring her here, every other Saturday, when Elsa wasn't with her dad. Looking on toward them, she saw two heads bobbing back and forth on the swing set… one has long, sleek, and straight… and the other, quite bushy, curly, and out of whack. She smiled a little. She and Elsa could have sat there for hours on Saturdays. Elsa didn't have to worry about her parents, and Hermione didn't have to worry about school… but her smile faltered. The sky was overcast, and just beyond her range of hearing, she knew that thunder was rolling over the clouds. She remembered this day quite clearly. She heard footsteps coming up behind her and turned. She gasped.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing here?!"

Draco Malfoy stood beside her, hands in his pockets, looking out over the two little girls. He blinked.

"I've come to save you, Princess," he said, smirking.

Draco might have expected a more graphic scene to find her immersed in, had he not known her, as he felt he now did. Even his childhood guilt, anxieties, fears, and otherwise dark voices had been… well… dark. Two girls swinging merrily away… this didn't seem like a memory she'd rather keep buried. She'd probably accidentally kicked the other girl down or some such nonsense.

And then cried for hours, he reckoned.

She looked about ready to set him on fire. She would have, he expected, if her wand worked down here. He already knew it didn't. He'd tried to slay his demons the good old-fashioned way once before… no such luck.

"I don't need you to save me, Draco Malfoy and I don't want you here. These memories… my past is none of your concern."

He rolled his eyes. Was she embarrassed about a bloody trip to the park?

"Granger, I'm not here to torment you. I'm not going to use any of this as… ammunition. I could care less about that. I just want us to get where we're going. All right?"

She sighed.

"I suppose it doesn't matter, does it? No way to get you out of here anyway?"

He knew that wasn't true. He knew that Enzo was working overtime—had canceled his classes for the week to focus on getting them both out… it took work…. lots and lots of work to pry someone out of this type of slumber. He swallowed.

"No way in Hell," he answered. Why did it hurt to lie to her all of a sudden? She was just the same old, bushy haired bat she'd always been. She just happened to also be the witch he was shagging. It shouldn't matter, he told himself… it didn't matter that she might, of all things, be pregnant.

And it was too early, was it not, for her to even be presenting with signs? How long did it take for his little swimmers to even reach the big, ghastly goal they'd been hunting for? He couldn't remember… but two bloody days seemed a little early to be seeing signs of life in another magical person. Had to have been something else that caused that blinding flash of light- some reason she didn't see it… some reason he did. It probably had nothing to do with conception, at all. It was probably just a coincidence.

But he was not about to take that chance.

He was not about to have a desecrated mission and a baby on the way—a baby that he was sure neither of them wanted, and would only get in the way. No, now was definitely not the time. They were too close. He'd come too far.

"Fine," she seemed to concede. "It doesn't matter what you think of me, anyway. In a few months, I'll never see you again."

The blow hit him harder than he expected, but already she was walking toward the two little girls, and he had no choice but to accept it, bite down, and carry on, for the sake of whatever may or may not be inside of her.

Hermione didn't want him there. She didn't need The Draco Malfoy standing over her shoulder, watching her life unfold… but she didn't have a choice, and she wanted desperately to get it over with and go forward to Egypt where she hoped to get at least some of her answers before they moved on to Iraq. The only way out, was this way….

She stood behind her former self and waited for the moment she knew was coming. She saw the bandage on her left knee. She saw the crinkles in her tiny brow. She felt the jealousy, like it was fresh… Elsa had been top of their grade school classes since they had enrolled, together. Elsa's parents fought constantly, and Elsa had poured everything she was into school. Hermione cared deeply for school, and deeply for her cousin, but falling into second place time and time again had turned her love against her. She was in constant competition with Elsa, now. The others had noticed, even if Elsa had not… Hermione was being bullied. She couldn't stand it any longer. She was fit… to burst.

"Mr. Jerris give you your test back, Hermione?" she heard the young Elsa ask. Hermione closed her eyes.

"Yeah," she heard herself say- heard the second layer to her voice… angry. Defensive. "Got an A," she heard herself say. It made her sick. She hadn't gotten an A. She hadn't even gotten it back. Elsa had gotten hers back early because she'd gotten them all right, as she always did, and she was being congratulated.

"Great, isn't it? The party they're going to throw?"

Hermione watched her head snapped toward Elsa.

"Party?"

"Well, yeah! For us! Cause we're at the top! He didn't mention it?"

"Oh. Yeah, he did. That party."

"Pizza and ice cream sounds like a good recess to me!"

The young Hermione's feet flew out underneath her and caught the grass to slow herself down on the swing. She came to a hault. She saw her tiny eyes close. She could practically hear her wishes.

"Just once, just once," we heard you say, "Let me have my special day."

She knew they were running down the grass before he arrived. Hermione felt tears in her eyes. Her hands rose to cover them. Over her shoulder, Draco watched wordlessly, brow furrowed, confusion settling in.

"It's MY weekend, Jake!" Elsa's mother was screaming. He was pushing her off of him with one hand, headed toward his daughter, legal documents in his hand.

"Elsa! Baby! You're coming with me, this weekend!"

"Don't do it…" she muttered, tears escaping from under her eyelids.

"Why are you doing this?!" Elsa's mother, her Aunt Jen, was screaming.

"Because you've kept me as a two-weekends-a-month dad for TOO LONG, Jen! She's my daughter too! If you won't listen to reason, I'll see you in court!"

"Daddy?" Elsa asked. She was stepping off the swing now, running to her parents. The young Hermione sat on the swing and watched.

Hermione opened her eyes to watch her cousin running toward them. She held up an arm to stop her. Draco's hand caught her arm.

"Won't do any good," he said. "They can't hear you. You can't touch them. You just have to watch." She lowered it, lip trembling.

"Mommy? What's wrong?"

Jen grabbed a hold of Elsa and pulled her away from her father, Jake. Jake reached to grab for her, and Hermione heard them yelling above Elsa's questions, her little eyes growing wider. It was only when the loud snap occurred that they finally stopped. Little Elsa fell to the ground clutching her shoulder. Her mother had accidentally pulled it out of the socket. She was sobbing as her father shot accusations at Jen, running for a pay phone.

The young Hermione ran for Elsa.

"What can I do?" she asked her. Elsa only cried. Her father scooped her up.

"It's okay, honey. You'll be coming with me to live in Rurricksburg, now. Mummy can't hurt you anymore.

The vision melted away before Hermione's eyes. She ran to chase after Elsa, retreating over her father's shoulder into the distance. After that day, she remembered… Elsa moved away. The courts sided with her father. Hermione rose to the top of her grade school class… and the competition became healthy for her.

"But…" she protested, her saliva thick and her eyes watery. "I couldn't have… I mean, I didn't cause that, I—"

You asked, received, and played us well. The Harrison Family gave into spells. No amount of guilty conscious can change your past, or alter our stance.

"I didn't even know I was a witch!"

Your love of competing only grew, that fire, deep inside of you… and never did you stop to wonder, 'what if I hadn't cursed Elsa? That fair blunder...'

Hermione felt fresh tears rolling down her face. It had been true, then. She'd always wondered. She'd never, ever competed with Elsa in grade school after that day… Elsa wasn't there to compete with… she was competing with her bullies… showing them what she was capable of now that Elsa was… she wanted to be sick.

She felt Draco's hand on her shoulder.

"S'not true, Hermione," he said, softly. She faced him.

"What?"

"Whatever it's saying to you, it's… it lies to you."

"What is it?" she asked, wiping her tears away.

"It's you."

The white began to snow around herm falling over a pane of glass. She was staring out the window of her kitchen. A shaky breath escaped her as she forcer herself to regain her composure. She turned to face herself, a steaming cup of tea on the table, two poised parents sitting across from her, and her ten-year-old face looking down at a letter in her hands, the back covered in a brown, waxed seal with a giant Letter H on the front of it.

"Some kind of a joke?" she heard her father ask.

"But who would play this kind of… when we're getting ready to start choosing high schools?"

"No we're not," Hermione heard herself say. She was rolling her eyes. "You two are getting ready. I understand that it's still three years off."

"Well it's never too early to look Hermione—"

"It's not a joke." The letter fell to the table. "It's true. I am a witch."

Her parents looked uncomfortably from each other to her.

"Honey… I know that your mother and I have always told you that you're special."

Hermione stood from the table. Draco was chuckling next to her. She could feel his shoulders shaking. This was certainly embarrassing.

"Shut up," she said to him. He shook his head.

"Sorry."

"Mum. Dad. I'm telling you. It's the truth! I…. I've always been able to do… things."

"Things?" her mother asked, gently. Hermione rolled her eyes, watching the scene.

"Things, mom! I can… once, in the third year, I made James Henry's books fall on his head out of his locker in the hallway. He called me a brat and I was so angry, I looked at his books and they jumped out at him, and clobbered him over the head."

"I see that memory didn't show up as something you felt guilty about," Draco cut in, trying desperately to hold in his laughter.

"Well, it wouldn't, of course," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"Why do you feel guilty about this?"

Hermione sighed. She watched herself walk across her kitchen and place her hands on either side of the sink. Her father rose to walk after her.

"It's not that we don't believe you, pet, it's that we… we're just not sure… someone is playing a trick on you, Hermione. You've got to see that—"

Hermione's hands were shaking—both in her current form, and her past self. She watched herself grab hold of a plate from the drying dish rack and throw it hard against the adjoining wall.

"Stop making excuses for me!" She shouted. Her parents stared at her, confused, startled, unsure of what to say.

"If I was Elsa—"

"Honey this isn't about—"

"You FAVOR her!"

Hermione looked down, ashamed of watching herself, for her outburst. She sighed. "Go on, say it."

"We can all be arses. But it doesn't mean you were wrong. Did they favor Elsa?"

Hermione didn't answer him.

"Elsa is the cousin, yes?"

"Yes."

"Maybe they did. My parents only had me. My father's father favored Enzo. Everyone has a favorite."

There was a knock at the door. Hermione saw her mother sweep two tears off her cheeks with her palm, and it hit her right in her core the same way it had when she'd seen it then… she'd made her mother cry. It was the first- and only- time… it was part of why she had obliviated their memories… she didn't ever want to see her mother cry, again... even watching her leave.

A knock sounded at the door. A member of the Ministry of Magic was entering to speak with her parents… and then, the room began to fade away once more.

Her tears will soak your soul forever, did she forgive you? Never, never…. You took all of her love for granted, as you raved and sourly ranted, but what about the one you left behind? What did she have still to find?

The scene settled before her and a hand flew over Hermione's mouth. She reached for Draco, and he went to pull her hand. She snatched it away and used it to push him backward.

"Walk away," she warned him. He looked at her, confused.

"Why—"

"I don't want you to see this."

"Hermione, it's not going to—"

"LEAVE!" There was fire in her eyes, and fear he realized. Her lips were shaking. Her eyes were wide.

He couldn't help but to feel remorse for her. He understood, completely. In her place, he'd never have wanted her to see what he had to be afraid of, or even ashamed of. He walked to the far wall that had finally formed. He walked through it… and came out the other side, on the opposite side of her.

"I can't leave, Hermione. I'm stuck here just like you are."

"Muffliato!" she yelled at the scene, which Draco began to finally take in. She was getting desperate. She was willing to try anything. He was almost willing to pretend for her that she couldn't hear Hermione sitting in a chair, by herself, in an empty room… and drinking about a liter of rum. But he could hear her swallowing, and clearly see the door opening. Hermione got down on the ground, crouched, and let her arms circle her legs.

"I don't want you here," she was repeating under her breath.

One of the people Draco had not expected to see walked through the door did just that: Ron Weasley was laughing, red in the face, and saying goodnight to someone. The pieces began to fall into place for Draco. Was he having an affair?

Ron turned and looked quietly at Hermione. He seemed happy to see her.

"'Mione, what are you… are you drinking? …Alone?"

Hermione rose from the armchair she was sitting in, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. She was swaying slightly, pouring herself another drink.

"Did you have fun… Ronald?"

"Of course I had fun! We were waiting for you to come out with us—"

"I don't need to come out with you. Wouldn't have mattered if I did. You don't even see it, do you? You don't even know how thick you are? You can't even see how unhappy we are?"

The air in the room had gone cold. Draco too wished that she could have silenced the scene before him. He was not supposed to see this. No one was supposed to see this. He was almost regretting his decision to follow her down her. He closed his eyes, tried not to hear the two of them.

"But… we… unhappy?" he heard Ron ask. He almost felt sorry for the bloke… even if he was a blithering idiot.

"She's everything, Ron. She always has been. She's just… a muggle. And she can still have any man she wants… even my wizard fiancé. And you… you just fall right all over her."

Ron looked abashed, and yet, ashamed. He couldn't disagree with her. His frustration quickly turned to anger and he looked up to her.

"Don't put this on me, Hermione. If you're unhappy, you should have said something. It was just DRINKS with her. You were supposed to be there too! I just bloody met her tonight. There wasn't anything improper about it—"

"Average, Ronald. You're just… average."

It was the worst thing she could have said to him. Even Draco knew it.

"I'm… what?"

"You're so… bloody average… you can't even tell… when you're sodding in love with a girl, can you? Like a bloody movie. Someone's gotta tell you about it… well here. Let me tell you about it. You love her. She loves you. And I'm just the witch who's going to… set you free, aren't I?"

She began to walk away from him. He looked as if he might start crying, he was so red. Draco tried will all his effort to study his shoes.

"You know something, Hermione? I'm sorry. I'm SORRY that I've never been good enough for you… and I always knew it. I KNEW you'd rather be with Harry, underneath it all."

"Bollocks. This has nothing to do with him."

"It does, though, doesn't it? I mean, you said it yourself! I'm AVERAGE. I'm more suited to be with YOUR MUGGLE COUSIN than with you! You're too sodding HIGH ABOVE ME! What was I ever thinking, having you lower yourself to be with an idiot like me?"

He had a point, Draco thought, in spite of himself. He tried to shake off his sarcasm… but he couldn't help it. He never liked that kid.

"I'm doing you a favor, Ron."

"Make it go away," Draco heard from the corner. Hermione was sobbing, shaking into her knees. She'd been drunken, yes, but not wrong, Draco thought. This wasn't anything to be ashamed of. Couples fight. He was in love with her bloody cousin! The same cousin she'd spent years having a sibling rivalry with, despite them not being blood sisters. He got it. It happened. But, he knew… this kid had been her best friend. He imagined that things between them were probably "okay" now… but not great. He wondered if this 'Elsa' and him were still together. He hoped so. Hermione deserved better than to be let off for a fling.

And suddenly, the room around them began to fade. Draco looked at her. She wasn't moving. He walked toward her.

"Don't touch me," she said. Her face was splotchy, and tears were staining her cheeks and lips. She wiped them away, and into her hair. She stood up.

"I'll never forgive you for this," she said, turning her back to him. He bit his bottom lip, watching her, understanding, but unable to tell her why he'd had no choice. He came to her, his arms out, and circled her with them. He felt her tense at first, pulling away, before relaxing, letting it go, and letting it all out.

"I loved him," she said, letting the tears fall.

"I know," he said.

"But not… not the way… she… Elsa, and him, they… they deserved to be together, they… they're so happy, I…"

"No one is perfect, Hermione. You can't hate yourself for being angry."

"He'll never forgive me for the things I said…"

"Maybe not. Because he believes them."

She was sobbing. The room was already beginning to fall down around them. It was breaking her, he realized. He turned her around, pulled her to him.

"Hermione, listen to me. This is the game. This is how it's designed. It wants you to think you're worthless, spineless, pitiful. It's yourself telling you that you can't succeed. You step through the mirror, and into yourself, and… you're your own worst critic, Hermione. That's all this is. You have to pull through."

"It's right, I just—"

"It's NOT right. Three moments, Hermione, where you can't stand yourself? THREE? And two of them took place when you were a child! Do you know how horrible most people truly are? Most people have THOUSANDS of moments as children to weed through, and DOZENS upon dozens as adults. This is bollocks and you know it. Allow yourself some sodding humanity, for once. That's your problem. You're still COMPETING. Not with Elsa… with yourself."

There was cackling, then, as Draco spoke. She could hear it, laughing at her, but she knew he was right. He was right about her…. That's what this was, it was all just a competition! She was mocking herself for all the moments she most hated about herself; everything that revealed that her true character wasn't spotless.

The room was creating itself around her. She was back, at Hogwarts, and in… in the room of Requirement.

"Are we… am I… awake?"

"No," Draco said, looking around. "We're in Enzo's office."

"But, I don't…" she looked toward the bed that had formed in the center of the room, and she and Draco were upon it, wrapped around each other, rolling and gasping and creating a new kind of wonderful she hadn't expected to see down here.

"But… I'm not… I mean, I don't…"

She felt him smirking before she saw it.

"She regrets wishing her know-it-all cousin was knocked down a peg for just a moment, but not a roll in the sack with yours truly. I think I will log that one away for a rainy day."

"I guess I'm just… I'm confused, because… I mean, it was just sex."

"I think we rather make a cute couple, yeah?"

"Oh Merlin, don't watch, you egotistical prat."

"Why not? Seen it already!" She sighed, rolling her eyes and turned away.

"You're ridiculous."

"No, I'm horny."

She shook her head, but a laugh escaped her. She was not. The day had been far too trying… if it had been a day. She wasn't sure, really. Time, she imagined, was different down here.

That's when she saw it. She looked up, as a blinding light took over her. She felt warm, protected, and utterly… refreshed. The light seemed to be coming from herself. She walked toward it.

Draco was hot on her heels.

"You see it?" she asked him. She heard him swallow. She looked to him but he said nothing.

"What is it?" she asked. "Did this happen to you too?"

Far away and deep inside, it lurks to grows to turn your hate to pride. Connected to a greater purpose, though you may never learn to share trust, you have only just begun to gaze upon the morning sun.

"The sun?" Hermione asked. Draco's head snapped to her.

"The what?"

"The morning sun, it said…" he seemed to relax a bit. "It said… Merlin." It clicked for her. He looked terrified. It hadn't she grasped happened to him, but she understood why not… it was totally her own. This had always been her mission, she felt, and her palms folded over her belly. A smile took her face.

Draco opened his eyes, heavy, laden, and painful to do, for the second time in his life. He took a deep breath, his lungs only stinging a little from the force. Hasn't been as long as it was for me, then he reckoned. He looked over at Hermione. Her eyes were opening as well.

Footsteps could be heard from the doorway and Enzo entered. He looked to each of their faces, Draco guessed to read what had been discovered. He knew it was going to show itself in there, he bloody well knew it. He'd been right. And what was worse… it revealed itself to her, and he saw her happiness. He was in for it now, all right. He was to be tied with… he couldn't think on it. She was never going to go with him, now. Her memories hadn't broken her—though they may have had he not been there to talk sense into her at the very end—but instead, this creature inside her was going to. He sighed. He looked at Enzo, and gently shook his head. Enzo sighed.

Hermione sat up.

"Should it hurt?" she asked. Draco nodded without looking at her.

"It always does. You've been asleep for….?" He looked to Enzo for confirmation.

"Six weeks," Enzo said. "Quite fast, actually. Must have helped to go together."

"Six weeks," Hermione said. She sniffed. "I feel… bad."

"Me too," Draco said.

"It was worth it," she said. She looked around. "I do feel different… somehow… more complete." Draco flushed. Complete? She felt COMPLETE with his child inside of her? He felt like he was going to die and she felt completed. He was going to be sick.

"You saw it, right, Draco?" she asked, her hands on her stomach once more. He nodded, wincing, and looking away.

"I did," he said. "I reckon… we need to talk about it, then," he said.

"What's to talk about?" she asked. He stared at her. Was she daft? "Part of me, I think… needed to see that… the magic, in me."

"The…" he could barely believe his ears. "The magic, in you?"

She stood up, shaking her hair over her shoulders. "Merlin, I need to eat. Feels like it's been… well, probably six weeks, yeah? Let's hit the Hall before we leave." She turned to Enzo. "Is McGonagall livid that we're still here?"

"Doesn't know," he said, tiptoeing around the situation, afraid to overstep his bounds. He revealed a basket of food to her. "I put this here so you two could eat before you split. Your bags are packed and in my office."

"Great," she said, smiling, turning to Draco. "I still don't forgive you. I could have done it by myself. I'm just starving… and eager to get going, of course. You have the map, right?"

He was… in shock.

"We're going to Egypt? But… the "magic" in you…?"

"Yes, well, I have to admit, I expected it to be in the brain, but, I suppose… the fact that it's at my core is really just… more evidence of a soul I suppose, don't you think?" she was stuffing bread into her mouth. He felt like he ought to be joining her… but he was having a bit of a mental breakdown.

"So, that's what that was?" Her brow crooked as she pulled an apple out of the basket.

"What else would it have been? Come on, eat. We need to go!"

It occurred to him suddenly, that this was the moment where he could be a 'man.' He could tell Hermione Granger that she was wrong. He could show her the research. He could sabotage his own mission. He could… protectthe child which was undoubtedly inside of Hermione Granger. Glowing, is what they said about pregnant women… she was shining, euphoric, and beautiful. He knew exactly what he was supposed to do… what any man would do in his place…

"I'll eat on the way. Let's just go," he heard himself say… and just a little part of him tried desperately to kick him in the bloody head.