DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated in any way with J.K. Rowling.

Hermione didn't tell her friends where she was going that night. She should've, she knew that, but she just couldn't bring herself to see their apprehensive looks and dark glances at the mention of Draco. So instead, as the night grew blacker outside and Harry and Ron went up to bed, Hermione found herself smiling and promising she'd go up to bed once she'd finished the latest chapter of her book. Thank Merlin she'd thought of a plausible excuse on the spot; Harry and Ron had merely nodded and bade her goodnight.

At half past eleven, when the few stragglers left began to wearily drag themselves up to bed, Hermione's nerves set in. What was she doing? She couldn't seriously be considering sneaking out after bedtime to meet a boy. It just wasn't like her. If she was caught, she'd get into trouble and if she admitted the truth, she'd be gossiped about.

"Model student Hermione Granger sneaking out to meet Draco Malfoy on a corridor at night, just the two of them?"

And, okay, while no one would say exactly that, there would still be whispers and glances thrown her way. No. No, she'd stay put.

She stood up and headed towards the stairs before stopping and sighing.

What if it was actually something important that couldn't wait until morning? What if Draco had suddenly found a way to free Zella that could only be done tonight? And, alright, that sounded incredibly unlikely but what if?

Hermione turned around and sat back down. She began to fidget, picking at the edges of her fingernails and glancing at the clock every so often. Tearing her hands apart from each other, she began to absently drum her fingers onto the spine of her book in some long-forgotten tune.

When the clock signalled twenty to twelve, Hermione could take it no longer. She knew that if she didn't force herself to leave the common room then she wouldn't leave at all. Standing up, she took one step in front of the other until she'd reached the portrait hole.

So far, so good.

Nervously opening it and stepping through into the cold and dark corridor, she steeled herself. What was the quickest way down to the fifth floor? She quickly navigated the way in her mind, suddenly wishing she'd brought Harry's invisibility cloak. But that would lead to awkward questions and lies, the two things Hermione hated.

Treading down the corridor as silently as she could, she decided it was best to light the tip of her wand in case she tripped over or into something…which was a valid concern considering her lack of visibility.

Putting out of her mind the thought that she could be caught at any moment, Hermione whispered 'lumos' and the corridor flared to life. The figures in the portraits that lined the walls grumbled in their sleep, some even waking up to glare at the wanderer. Too preoccupied to apologise, Hermione swiftly made her way to the staircase which would lead her to her destination.

Travelling down two flights of stairs, holding aloft an illuminated wand and desperately trying not to trip was, Hermione decided, exhausting. Not to mention time consuming. Treading down the hallway to where she vaguely remembered the portrait of the sneezing wolf to be, she imagined that she must be at least a little bit late. Draco would be mad and they would argue. Unless there really was something wrong, in which case he'd glare at her for awhile before getting over it.

Something creaked in the place the light didn't reach, and Hermione's heart leapt. She quickly withdrew the light with a rushed word and stood perfectly still.

"Don't worry yourself," Draco's voice came through the darkness. "It's just me."

"You could've, I don't know, announced yourself or something," Hermione hissed, holding the re-lit wand high again.

"How did I know you weren't a teacher?" Draco pointed out. "I can get into just as much trouble as you can by being here, don't forget."

"So then why are we here?" Hermione asked in low tones, walking over to where Draco stood.

"Because there's something I need you to see," Draco answered.

"A crude painting of a wolf with the flu?" Hermione asked sceptically. "No, but thanks anyway."

"Are you always this difficult?" Draco muttered as he studied the painting.

"You bring out the best in me."

"Funny."

"I like to think so."

Rather than watch what Draco was doing, Hermione's eyes darted nervously from one end of the corridor to the other. She was used to these types of nerves, but she was usually in the company of Harry and Ron when she experienced them and they were usually doing something life-threatening. Why, then, did she feel so anxious now it was just her and Draco?

"Got it," Draco murmured, more to himself than to Hermione. "Will you shine your wand upwards, please?"

Hermione obliged and light shone on the full moon in the portrait. The wolf below it sniffled uncomfortably and shook out his fur before sneezing again.

Before she could ask what he was doing, Draco pulled out his own wand and muttered a quick word that she didn't understand, tapping the moon lightly with the tip. The moon glowed brightly enough to fill the whole corridor for a moment, and both teenagers squinted away. When the hall went back to bleak, Hermione looked at the painting again. The wolf had whimpered and scurried off behind a tree but Hermione was drawn to the moon that appeared to be inflating rather rapidly.

"Draco, what-"

Draco cut her off with a shushing noise, something which Hermione would've had something to say about had she not been distracted, again, by the moon. If her eyes weren't deceiving her, the moon was rising outwards…leaving the confines of the portrait and settling halfway through the frame where it solidified and turned emerald.

Hermione stared at it. It defied logic. Well, Hogwarts and her current lifestyle defied logic, but this was something else. Something new. She glanced at Draco to see how he was dealing with the moon with a desire to escape, but he merely nodded once and reached out towards it. Hermione quickly caught his hand, surprised when she found it was ice cold.

"What are you doing?" she asked him with a frown, dropping his hand when the chill became too much. "And why are you so cold?"

"I know what I'm doing," Draco answered, looking at her with eyes that seemed to be hiding something. "And because the corridors are cold." When Hermione began to talk, he interrupted with a sigh, his expression becoming much more human. "I need you to trust me if this is going to work."

Hermione only nodded and gestured for him to go forward with whatever it was that he was doing. He was right, after all, she should trust him. He had never physically hurt her, although he was stronger than her and had many opportunities. Which was why she swallowed her questions and watched as Draco reached out to the moon and twisted it sharply halfway round before pressing it back into the painting.

"Why is the moon moving?" Hermione whispered, unable to contain herself. As Draco had pointed out previously, she was a logical person and this was just not making sense.

"It's an illusion," Draco answered back. "Well, not an illusion so much as a spell. The Sons of Slytherin had a talented artist paint the portrait, bewitch it and then 'donate' it to Hogwarts."

"So they could mess with the lunar cycle?"

No sooner had she spoken did the portrait begin to tremble. A dark spot amidst the trees in the painting began to grow steadily larger until the wolf vanished into its blackness. The spot outgrew the painting and, just like the moon before it, seemed to leap out of the frame. Only this time, the spot, which, Hermione realized with intrigue was actually a door, fell all the way down to the floor. A plate was encrusted into the dark wood, holding a faded pattern of snakes. That figured.

"A door," Hermione whispered, her suspicions confirmed. "To the Sons' meeting place?"

"It started out like that," Draco answered with a nod. "But Trayton used it to meet with Zella in private."

"Oh." Hermione considered this before her eyes widened. "Oh."

Draco shot her an amused look. "Try not to look too shocked, that type of thing has been going on with teenagers for quite some time."

"Shut up," Hermione muttered, her cheeks colouring crimson. "I assume you didn't bring me here to look at a magic door?"

"Indeed I didn't."

He slid a finger down the plate softly, stopping when he got to the engraving of the snakes. As though they were nothing more than dust, he moved each snake into a new position, twisting their bodies around to produce the form of one large serpent in the middle of the plate.

"Got to love the snake dedication," Hermione muttered.

"Slytherins may be a lot of things, but at least we're loyal."

"No you're not."

"Well, loyal to snakes."

Draco moved the last small snake to complete the large serpent, and the door began to open.

"How did you know how to do that?" Hermione asked, suddenly apprehensive.

"Trayton told me," Draco answered evasively.

"Why?"

"He wanted us to go inside."

"Because…?"

"I don't know!"

Hermione jumped slightly at his snap. She briefly considered turning around and going back to the Gryffindor tower. It was better than staying with the frankly volatile Draco. Was he still angry with her about the day's events? He seemed to be switching moods more rapidly than usual. She stared at him suspiciously.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" she demanded. "You seem like a totally different person."

"I just want this whole ordeal to be over with," he muttered, taking a step into the black void behind the door. "Don't worry, there's actually a room there," he added at Hermione's look. "It's concealed. I'll go first."

Before she could object, Draco had stepped inside. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. She didn't want to follow him inside after his outburst at her but then again what if someone had heard him and was coming to investigate? Besides, if she didn't investigate the room tonight then she'd only have to come back another night and start the process all over again. No, it was best to go.

Figuring the abyss would work like the wall at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Hermione took a deep breath and stepped into it, closing the door shut behind her. Before she had time to even blink, she was in the room.

It was much like any dorm in the castle only on a smaller scale with only one set of things. One dresser, one table, one door that she assumed led to one bathroom…one bed in the far corner of the room underneath the gentle slope of the stone ceiling. A fireplace contained roaring flames adjacent to the door, and Hermione instinctively moved towards it for warmth. Draco, meanwhile, made sure that the door was closed properly.

"Either this fire has been burning for the past two hundred years or you were expecting me," Hermione murmured, passing the fire and putting her wand down on the table, glancing in the mirror that hung above it as she did. "And everything here looks like it's been cleaned recently. No dust anywhere."

"I knew you'd come if I asked you."

Hermione scoffed and turned around with her arms crossed. Draco stood in front of the door calmly.

"Slightly expectant, don't you think? I'm only here because I thought I'd get an apology for the ridiculous way you acted before."

"Don't be so hard on him. He likes you so very much."

Hermione frowned, in confusion at his words and the new quality to his voice.

"Who does?"

"Draco, of course."

Hermione's heart sank, her stomach lurched and suddenly all warmth left the room. She stared at Draco. Or whoever was pretending to be Draco; she doubted he'd all of a sudden adopted a habit of speaking about himself in the third person. And she had a pretty good idea about who was behind the mask, so to speak.

"How?" she managed, taking a step back so that she banged into the table.

She should've just walked away the moment she realized there was something different. She should've, but she hadn't. All for fear of getting in trouble with the teachers. Well, now she was in an altogether new kind of trouble. "When?"

"You're not going to ask 'who'?" Draco - Trayton - asked silkily.

"I don't need to," Hermione answered shakily. "Who else would know enough to fool me?"

Trayton shrugged Draco's shoulders (a sentence Hermione never thought she'd hear) and smiled, only it lacked all of Draco's warmth and chilled her.

"It was easy, really," Trayton mused. "The Sons were quite fascinated with death. It bordered on unhealthy, even for Slytherins. They would continually pester the ghosts around the castle, asking how they died, how it felt to be a ghost, all sorts of things. Of course, the ghosts just thought it was morbid curiosity, but the truth was so much darker…" he frowned and Hermione knew that he was leaving something out. It was irritating enough when Draco did that, regardless of the person wearing his skin.

"And what do you want with me?"

"I've not finished my story yet," Trayton frowned. He caught sight of Hermione reaching for her wand and laughed. "Whatever you're thinking, it won't work. It'll only hurt Draco physically and won't effect me at all. Best just to stand back and listen, little girl."

Hermione bristled at being called 'little girl' but decided to stay quiet in the presence of someone she couldn't defeat without causing Draco pain.

"In conclusion, I just found some old documents of the Sons' and took it from there. Of course, I had to practice first. And then there was the problem of getting the message to you without anyone knowing you were here."

"Neville?" Hermione breathed, horrified that she had been that close to Trayton's masquerade without even realizing it.

"Right in one," Trayton affirmed cheerfully. "Quite a simple boy but his intentions are good. Concerned over his grandmother, a past that almost rivals my own in tragedy and-"

"How do you know?" Hermione interrupted sharply. This was getting worse by the minute.

"Well, it turns out that when I inhabit someone, I become them," Trayton said with a wide smile. "I know their pasts, their thoughts, their," he glanced Hermione up and down, "desires. Which is how I know that Draco is really quite taken with you. I also know that he's got quite the internal conflict raging over you."

"He's probably worried about following in your footsteps," Hermione retorted. It seemed wrong to be listening to Draco's thoughts and inner feelings, yet she wanted to understand him better.

"He's worried about the school targeting you if you have a relationship that goes public," Trayton corrected, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Not too worried about himself. Arrogant boy. You know he thinks of you often? Yes, he finds himself thinking of excuses to talk to you or ask how your day was." Trayton paused and smirked. That, at least, was a familiar expression on Draco's face. "My, I don't think I'll voice those particular thoughts."

Hermione flushed. Now Trayton was mocking her and humiliating Draco.

"What do you want?" she demanded. "And if you don't give me a straight answer then I swear I'll just go ahead and knock Draco out."

"Well, it seems that when I was glancing through the old tomes on ghostly possession by the Sons, there was the release spell for the pretty little necklace you have on."

Hermione's hand flew instinctively to her neck. "Zella can be free?"

Trayton smiled and began to walk forward, reminding Hermione of a predator. He stopped just in front of her. She stared into Draco's eyes only to see a stranger looking back.

"In a manner of speaking," Trayton replied coldly. "It would seem that Zella needs a vessel in order to be released. And, since you're wearing her necklace…"

Oh no.

Her eyes widening, Hermione tried to get away from Trayton. She didn't think where she was going to go; the door was locked. She just knew she had to run. Trayton knew what she was going to do, rolled his eyes and shot his hand out, grabbing her arm.

"Ouch," Hermione hissed as she was jerked back in front of Trayton. "I didn't deserve that."

"A lot of people don't deserve things. Why should you get a chance at life while Zella's trapped?" Trayton snarled, practically spitting he was so mad. "All you do is tiptoe around your feelings as though you have all the time in the world! Life is for the ones who want to live, not those who daren't take chances!"

"You killed her!" Hermione snapped back, forgetting her fear for a moment. "She's trapped because of you!"

"And I intend to rectify that," Trayton told her, his eyes narrowing. "I would give my life for Zella. As it happens, I just have to give someone else's."

"You don't have your own wand," Hermione pointed out, wincing as Trayton's grip grew tighter.

"There are more powerful things in this world than magic alone," Trayton informed her. With his spare hand, he touched Hermione's necklace. "Goodbye, Miss. Granger. I appreciate your sacrifice." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Ego solvo vos!"

Hermione felt the breath being forced from her body and she bent over double from the pain. She tried to scream but she felt like she was caught in a whirlwind and all oxygen was being snatched away. Trayton released his grip and she fell to the ground, the necklace burning her flesh until she thought she her whole neck was on fire. The unbearable heat spread until the world dimmed to black.

She was hurt.

Betrayed.

Confused.

Emotions that existed after death.

No physical pain, of course.

But emotional pain tenfold.

Reliving her memories every night.

Torture.

Was this hell?

It had to be.

But she had been wrong.

Because now she felt her lungs shifting for the first time in two centuries. Darkness surrounded her and she realized she had her eyes closed. She felt a cold stone floor beneath her. Could smell burning logs. Something familiar. Her knees hurt. Why was she on the floor? Had she fallen? She couldn't fall. Couldn't walk. Didn't have a body. But she did. How? Why? She felt her eyes burning and was shocked to discover that tears were sliding down her face.

"O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright," a soft voice came.

Familiar.

Unknown.

She recognized the words but not the voice which spoke them. She opened her eyes, accepting the unknown hand that offered to help her up. Her legs shook and she struggled to stand.

"I…I," she began, scared and confused as she looked around the room she had known so well once. "I don't understand. Who are you?"

She turned to the platinum haired young man who had helped her up, tears blurring her vision.

"That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet," was all the stranger replied and instantly she knew who he was.

"Trayton?" she whispered.

"Zella," Trayton answered, murmuring her name like a prayer and closing the space between them with a kiss.

A/N:

Dun dun daaaaaah!

I intended to have this chapter a lot longer, but there's so much I wanted to fit in and so I'll leave it for next chapter. Shakespeare dialogue is from 'Romeo and Juliet', Latin translated for me by my friend Rob. Both great guys :P

Thank you so much for your reviews and birthday wishes (:

Have a great week!

- Momo