A/N: I know it's been a long time since I've updated, and I'm sorry! I've been busy the past few months with uni etc. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Seven

21st October 1998. Sunday.

She blacked out the next evening.

Hermione had awoken later than normal that morning, as was to have been expected considering her late night. Sitting up and glancing around, she was pleased to see that the rest of the dormitory was deserted. Checking her clock, she saw with a pang of guilt that it was the middle of lunchtime. She smiled sheepishly, thinking to herself that she couldn't remember ever sleeping in so late.

After lowering herself to the floor and struggling through a few hundred crunches, she made her way to the library, running up staircases so fast her calves felt as though they were on fire.

Draco blew warm air into his hands as he re-entered Hogwarts Castle, having foolishly left his dark green dragonskin gloves beside his bed. His morning in Hogsmeade had been pleasantly quiet and he was looking forward to the traditional Sunday roast in the Great Hall upon his return. Tucking his hands deep into his pockets, he made his way through deserted the Entrance Hall.

With no small amount of dismay, a quick glance into the Great Hall was enough to inform him that the elves had stopped serving lunch. He cursed himself for having lost track of time in Hogsmeade and ran his fingers through his slick hair just as his stomach gave an offended grumble.

Draco sighed, wondering what he could do.

Hermione was sitting in her favourite corner of the library, head buried in a Charms textbook. She had an unfortunate, and entirely subconscious, habit of reading some sentences aloud if they were a little difficult the first time around.

"Do you always talk to yourself when you read?" came a voice from her right. Startled, Hermione looked up into the face of a girl she'd never seen before. Before she could reply, the girl sat herself on top of a nearby desk and continued, "No, not all the time, just a fraction of the time."

The girl's accompanying smile had a menace about it that Hermione found unsettling. She had the strange feeling that she should know who this mysterious girl was, and yet could find no trace of her in her memory. She didn't recognise the long blonde hair that fell elegantly over one shoulder, nor the skin that was so pale it was almost dazzling. The stranger didn't wear House robes, not entirely unusual considering it was a Sunday, but combined with every other aspect of her person, this fact was just as disarming as her appearing out of nowhere.

"Do I… know you?" Hermione asked slowly, frowning. She closed the book in her hand, her finger wedged between the pages so she wouldn't lose her place.

The girl gave a tinkling little laugh. She crossed one ankle over the other in mock gracefulness and with a wink of her eye, whispered, "I'm sure you will."

The wink caught Hermione's attention more than the curious way in which she'd answered the question. She felt like she recognised those eyes, that haunting silver flecked with mischief and coloured in shades of guile. Even so, she struggled to put a name to the face.

"What's your name?" Hermione asked, staring almost rudely. The other girl either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Aela," she replied, flashing a brilliant smile. She flicked her hair lightly back over her shoulder; it seemed to move effortlessly. It was an extremely light blonde – so light that Hermione wouldn't at all have been surprised if it contained the occasional strand of silver hair. It seemed to emit a faint, eerie glow that hung around her like an aura. Perhaps Aela was related to Veela.

Aela's hand lingered for a moment in the space where her hair had lain a few moments ago before it dropped to rest in her lap. Hermione's eyes noted with great envy how Aela's collarbones protruded through her skin. Subconsciously, she raised her hand to her own, checking that they were still there beneath her fingers.

Aela smiled like she'd caught her looking. It was almost enough to send a chill racing up Hermione's spine. She felt simultaneously like she should avoid this girl at all costs, but at the same time was drawn to her. It was like she wanted to take her inside of herself and emulate her beauty, for she was really very beautiful.

And she was so thin.

Without even attempting to appear subtle, Hermione looked down and noticed that Aela's legs were extraordinarily thin. It made her ache with longing jealousy, so much so that she almost had to catch her breath. When she looked back into those strangely familiar eyes, the smile had grown even wider.

It looked like Aela had won something; perhaps a personal competition of great importance.

"Are you going to the Great Hall for dinner?" Aela asked innocently, and yet the worrisome smile did not fade all that much, somehow.

"I suppose I might," Hermione replied, looking down, suddenly extremely self-conscious of her own legs inside her average sized jeans. "I mean, I'm not very hungry but if you're going I suppose I'll go with you."

She could feel her cheeks flaring up. When she looked at Aela, the face looking back at her was one of glittering triumph. Hermione forced her Charms textbook back inside her bag, already too full, and slung it on her shoulder as she stood up.

The next thing she knew, she was lying on the floor staring at the ceiling. Her head pounded with astonishing force. She gave a groan of pain and tried to sit up, but felt a pressure on her shoulder forcing her back down.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," laughed a more familiar voice. "I've asked someone to go fetch Madame Pomfrey; she'll be here in a minute."

Hermione turned her head to the side slightly to see Victoria kneeling on the floor next to her, who gave her a reassuring smile. Hermione gladly returned it before asking her what had happened.

"I have no idea," Victoria shrugged. "I came in here to do some work and you were just lying here. I sent some Hufflepuff boy off to the Hospital Wing so that I didn't have to leave you without a friend."

She gave another warm smile that Hermione felt very grateful for before she remembered Aela. "Did you see another girl here? She was called Aela, I've never seen her before but I think she was here before I passed out."

Victoria's brow furrowed. "No, and I don't think there's anyone in our year called Aela."

"She might not have been in our year," Hermione said. "I didn't ask her. I don't even know what House she's in."

Victoria shrugged just as Madame Pomfrey appeared over her shoulder.

"Now, what's happened here?" she asked in an affectionate, motherly tone. Victoria moved out of the way so that she could kneel beside Hermione herself.

"I don't know, I stood up and the next thing I knew I was here on the floor," Hermione gave a weak chuckle. "I think I probably just stood up too fast, that's all."

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. The sympathetic look on Madame Pomfrey's face filled her with a cold sense of shame.

"That sounds right, especially with all the books you're carrying!" she laughed, standing up and offering a hand to help Hermione to her feet. She swayed slightly, her vision brightening alarmingly before her eyes for a few seconds.

"Thank you for your help, but I think I'll be fine," Hermione said, smiling gratefully as her vision cleared. "Sorry to drag you away from the Hospital Wing for a dizzy spell."

"Don't worry about it," Madame Pomfrey waved her hand dismissively. She gave Hermione another reassuring smile before she headed back to her work.

"And thanks, Victoria, I'm glad someone friendly found me," she grinned, stooping down to pick up her bag and hoist it over her shoulder.

Victoria laughed in agreement. "Yes, imagine what would've happened if someone like Draco Malfoy had found you!"

She gave Hermione a light nudge in the ribs with her elbow, giggling. Hermione joined in but for some reason, hearing Draco's name had almost made her wish that he had been the one to find her, for some inexplicable reason.

Almost.

Hermione was halfway back to Gryffindor Tower a few minutes later, bizarrely pleased that she'd managed to avoid eating for the whole day. It gave her a strange sort of satisfaction, to think she'd been so iron-willed and strong. As she reached the end of the corridor, Aela stepped out from seemingly nowhere.

"What happened to you? I just blacked out in the library and you'd gone," Hermione asked her sharply, slightly annoyed that Aela had just left her, even if they had only known each other five minutes.

"Oh, sweetie," Aela replied in a sickly sweet voice, "I went for dinner. I brought you something since you couldn't make it."

Hermione looked down to see what she now held out in her hand. She took a step back in surprise as she saw one of the sharpest knives she'd ever come across lying in Aela's palm.

"Why would I want that?" Hermione asked, genuinely dumbfounded.

Aela grinned slyly. "I thought you might find a use for it someday."

Hermione took the knife wordlessly, feeling as out of control as if she were possessed. She slid the knife into her bag without really knowing why. Aela watched with relish as she did so. She held her own in one hand; the point was resting on the pad of a finger on her other hand, not quite drawing blood, and she spun it slowly in circles, all the while with a distinctly unsettling smile on her pale face.

A/N: Already Aela's one of my favourite OCs ;) I imagine her to look like Brittany Murphy - R.I.P. - with extremely platinum blonde hair.

Hope you all enjoyed, please review!

WD,
xo.