I quite enjoyed writing this chapter. Diverting from the original story certainly gives one more freedom.

This shall be my last update until I finish my essay. Gahh, why is it so simple to write 4000w for this story but it has taken over week to write 500w (out of 1500w) for an argument on Citizens Initiated Referenda? (Switzerland you have a beautiful democratic system!)

Anyway, enough about that xD

Once again, thank you to everyone who has stayed with the story so far! Please take the time to review, it's always nice to know what you think. I certainly into account suggestions about how to improve the personality of characters/pairings/story-in-general. Your comments so far have all been a pleasure to read :3 And of course, thanks to all who have fav-ed and followed. It makes my day!

Happy Wednesday! Enjoy the rest of your week!

Chapter Four

The Advance Potions classroom quickly emptied as students were dismissed from the dungeons. Hermione loitered at the back of the room, leaning against the impenetrable stone walls that accentuated the medieval interior. Clasped in her hands was a thick hardcover book. She waited until everyone had left before approaching the Professor whose back was turned to her, waving goodbye to his pupils.

Last night after ceremonious welcomes and feasts, Hermione had retreated to the library and borrowed any script she could find that mentioned the Unbreakable Vow. It had almost been a breath of fresh air when she entered the deserted floor. She allowed herself the guilty pleasure of brushing her fingers along a myriad of spines as she was reunited with shelves overflowing with knowledge. The sight of Hermione with an armful of books on the first day of term hardly fazed her peers. The wavy haired witch had stayed awake late into the night searching for answers. Her eyes hungrily perused over beautifully handwritten words before discarding them in frustration. Parchment and encyclopaedias littered her single bed and as dawn slowly substituted the dusk her eyes fell upon a torn Prophet article wedged inside of one of the old Ministry Public Records. Carefully she removed the fragile strip; the edges crumbled at her touch as she examined it closely. The font was partially dissolved in the sepia toned paper but the photograph was as clear as the day it had been printed. Eyes scanned over a familiar looking man, his face was round like his stomach and his hair resembled thick bundles of straw. He was situated centrally behind a wizard and a centaur with his wand positioned above their linked hands. Hermione immediately recognised the distinct chain of fire looped around their wrists and hurriedly reached for her bag and retrieved the Slytherin photograph, noting the comparison at once.

"Professor?" The young witch paced forward to the teacher's desk. Atop were three caldrons filled with various aromatic liquids that they had to identify at the start of the lesson. She remembered clearly as she lifted the lid of the left-hand caldron her senses were flooded with a mix of lavender, old parchment and peppermint candy. The aromatics spilling from the Amortentia concoction had overwhelmed her mind as it raced to associate a person with the scents.

"Miss Granger," Professor Slughorn turned to the student who stood behind his desk "what can I do for you child?"

Hermione took a deep breath and gently placed the book in view of the balding potions master.

"Sir, I was doing some light reading last night and I was wondering if you could help me to understand a particular type of magic."

"Of course, of course, ask away." Slughorn chuckled at the size of the book which Hermione associated as light reading. As she turned to the page where the Prophet clipping was secured a wave of nostalgia washed over the teacher and he took a step closer to examine the paper.

"This is you isn't it Sir?"

He nodded in response, his lip curling at an almost forgotten memory.

"I've never seen anything like it," she lied, ignoring the pain in her neck that had not subsided from days ago. "I found a few sources but nothing that really elaborated on…"

"The Unbreakable Vow." Slughorn concluded. "Where did you find this?"

"It was in this Ministry Public Records." Closing the cover to show the golden lettering embedded into the crimson coloured leather. "I'm interested in the inner workings of the Ministry." She added quickly.

"I'd very much like to have it. You see, this was a historic moment in my life Miss Granger and even the wizarding world itself." He boasted. "Here I am bonding the agreement between the Ministry and the Centaurs. It is because of this enduring vow that there is peace between our races. They promised to cease conflict in exchange for the preservation of their forests."

"Oh, of course Professor." Delicately, Hermione handed over the article, hoping that he would continue.

"The Unbreakable Vow, Miss Granger, is extremely dangerous. I would hope that someone like you would never take part in such an arrangement."

Hermione swallowed audibly, hanging onto the teacher's every word.

"You see, Miss Granger, when a person makes the Unbreakable Vow they are bound to the other until their part of the oath is fulfilled. If unsuccessful, in exchange for your failure you give your life. Essentially, you die if the bonds are broken prematurely."

Hermione had to steady herself as the information sunk in.

"But this is all very advanced. You best run along to your next class Miss Granger."

"Professor!" Slughorn jumped in surprise at the volume of the young witch's voice. Her palms were clammy and her throat felt as if it was constricted. "Professor," she began again, her tone adjusted to a normal frequency "please. I'm curious. I have just but one more question."

The portly man was taken aback but he gave her the grace and allowed for her to continue.

"Sir, what if a wizard made the Unbreakable Vow under an alias? Say, they weren't who the other person thought they were and they, under a false name, were instructed to do something but it wasn't their name…"

"Miss Granger I believe I understand what you're trying to say and the answer is this: it is not the name of the wizard who is making the vow that is important but their soul. When the union is made the souls become interconnected in a constant conflict, neither resting until the other fails or both succeed. This is why a person's life is in danger when they take part and why very few wizards actually do." He tucked his new possession in his breast pocket and eyed the paling witch questionably.

Hermione felt sick. She had never felt so ill in her entire life. She had the audacity to carelessly tie herself to the matriarch of one of the most powerful pureblood families in Britain without considering the consequences and for what? To put her life at risk for the sake of confirming one of Harry's nightmares. Her chest rose and fell sharply. The discomfort in her neck worsened and she clutched at the pain.

"Are you alright Miss Granger?"

"Yes, thank you Professor. It's just a cramp from being hunched over my books all night. I really must go to my next class. Thank you again."

"Thank you Miss Granger. I'm sure to invite you to tea sometime!" He called out to her as Hermione ran out the dungeons to the girl's bathroom.

O~O~O

Hermione had locked herself in one of the cubicles for most of the morning. Despite the best efforts of some students who were genuinely concerned for her she refused to come out. Her body was hunched over the porcelain bowl, hugging the rim. Her skin was prickling, as if ants were marching under the surface and burrowing deep within her chest, involuntary jerking and shivering as she replayed Slughorn's words. Sweat drenched her uniform which clung to her skin and she had loosened her tie and buttons that restricted her breathing. The fear that consumed Hermione was unbearable. She felt childish as she retched, tears forever flowing down her cheeks. Her neck was searing forcing her pupils to contract until they were only tiny black pinpricks against bloodshot eyes, blinding her vision.

She was terrified at the penalties of her foolishness. Not only did she not know how to contact Narcissa, she was oblivious as to what exactly was her role in the vow. Bellatrix had not specified what Draco was required to do for Voldemort and she was more likely to fail a subject than to discuss politics with him.

Just outside of the cubical stood a fair-haired girl wearing nothing on her feet but knee high rainbow, striped socks. The naturalist had been listening silently to Hermione on the other side of the door for some time, her sympathetic expression easily confused for absentmindedness. Crouching on all fours, ignoring the objections and wrinkling of noses, Luna crawled under the gap between the door and the floor before sitting on her knees behind Hermione. Placing a friendly hand on her back she spoke gently as Hermione heaved into the toilet bowl.

"You know, when I was very little, wrackspurts used to buzz in my ear in the morning and wake me up."

Hermione turned weakly to meet the protuberant eyes of Luna Lovegood, confused as to why she was here with her talking about invisible creatures.

"Every time they did I would forget my dream from the night before. It was all rather peculiar. It wasn't until I was having a pumpkin juice with my neighbour, who was discussing a nightmare involving an erumpent, that I realised that I have never experienced a bad dream myself. The wrackspurts only ever clouded my thoughts when my nights were dark, making my day bright." She flashed a smile, her messy blonde hair creating the illusion that her face was far smaller than it actually was.

Hermione cocked her head as if she had misheard everything Luna had just said. Her head was muddled but remarkably, the out of the blue conversation took her mind off her stomach and she felt a little better as she continued to listen to Luna's tales.

O~O~O

The senior student's communal bath was cleansing, its magical properties soothing Hermione's stress. Steam erupted from the warm water, spiralling and expanding through the air creating a dream-like atmosphere. The bath itself was circular and deep enough to submerge one's full body if standing upright. A single underwater step that curved around the edge served as a seat for those who did not want their face wet. Hermione sat on the marble step, head resting against Luna's lap who was seated outside of the bath, her bare feet dangling in the water either side of her friend. The brown haired witch was not shy about her body. If anything, she was thankful that Luna was with her. Although as unusual as she was, Luna had a unique way of connecting with people. She was not one to pry and she had helped Hermione by offering to run her a bath. At first she resisted but once she stepped into the hot liquid she finally felt at ease.

They were alone in the bath house. Not uncommon for the middle of the day as most people were either in the Great Hall or out exploring the grounds. The blonde stroked the brunette's hair in a motherly nature and Hermione welcomed the comfort of another. Silently her mind wandered and she found herself daydreaming about Narcissa; what it would be like if it were her hands running through her locks, to feel the soft touch of her slender fingers. She longed to swim in the pale eyes of the older woman and talk as freely as they had done. Hermione attempted to remember the exquisite features –flawless elegance contrasting with the superiority of her bloodline. Her eyes opened sharply, blushing as she recollected the warm breath of Bellatrix against her neck, her lips nipping at her ear in a close whisper. As frightened as she was of the Death Eater, the dark witch had a twisted, sexual magnetism that captivated Hermione in an unexplainable way. Although she feared for her life, she needed to confront the sisters if she had any hope of fulfilling her part of the vow.

Hermione broke the long silence. As carefully as she could so not to rouse her suspicions, she attempted to speak Luna's somewhat dotty language.

"Luna? Hypothetically, how would you find a ramora in an ocean?" Hermione felt offensive using a magical creature as an analogy for Narcissa but it was the first thing that came to her mind and she couldn't possibly have given away the real situation. "Say that you were looking for a specific ramora. How is it possible when the ocean is so vast and you are the only one searching?"

The blonde tilted her head in thought, continuing to stroke Hermione's hair. She enjoyed riddles and was relieved that her friend's mind was side tracked from whatever discomfort she was previously feeling.

"Have you seen this ramora somewhere before?"

"Yes."

"Then it's obvious, isn't it? You just go to where you last saw it."

"That's rather simplistic. How can you be sure she…it…will be there at that same spot when the rest of the ocean is there to swim?"

"My father says that every living creature functions on patterns. If you are patient, the pattern will begin again and the ramora will eventually cross your path if you simply wait."

Hermione thought about the one-dimensional response. She refused that the answer could be so simple but at the same time, it was entirely logical.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Luna had seen her friend grasp her neck, watching her claw away at the skin.

"I'm fine Luna, really." She let go to prove herself but the pain was not subdued and she felt her head grow heavy as her eyes momentarily rolled in their sockets exposing their whites.

"I…It must be just the heat that's getting to me." After a moment, Hermione got out of the bath and wrapped her initialled Gryffindor towel around her naked body.

"Thank you Luna. You've been so kind today."

The blonde smiled warmly and produced a fresh uniform which Hermione gratefully put on, disposing her dirty clothes in a wash basket for the castle's elves. Luna had offered to take Hermione back to the Common Room but the young witch declined, opting to attend her classes instead.

"It's only the first day and I've already missed so much. Thanks again Luna, I'll see you later tonight." Hermione waved goodbye to her friend as they went their separate ways, the blonde unaware of the severity of the pain the other was enduring.

O~O~O

The Great Hall was alive with the sound of cutlery on breakfast plates and the excited chatter of students receiving mail by owl. Hermione sat with the rest of Gryffindors beside Ron, with Harry sitting on the opposite side facing the duo. She had barely eaten anything, her fingers playing with a piece of toast that had gone cold. It upset her that her two friends had not noticed her behaviour over the last few weeks. Hermione had distanced herself, burrowing her head in her studies attempting to focus her thoughts on anything but what had happened at Spinner's End. She had considered that if one of them had asked she would most likely divulge the rest of the story but Harry had not even expressed gratitude for the risk she and Ron had taken and a part of her felt resentful.

She looked up from her toast and sure enough, the boys were not paying attention. Ever since Harry conveyed his doubts about Snape to Dumbledore he had been disappointed that the Headmaster did not investigate the situation further. Instead, he directed the conversation to another matter altogether. Dumbledore had shown him a personal memory of when he first met Tom Riddle in the orphanage and Harry brought it up whenever the opportunity arose.

"Hey," Hermione pipped up, attempting to steer the discussion away from an already exhausted topic "are you guys going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" Ever since McGonagall had informed the school that there would be another weekend excursion, Hermione's efforts of pushing Narcissa out of her mind became increasingly futile and she found herself daydreaming in class.

Ron turned to her excitedly.

"So looking forward to some of Madame Rosmerta's butter beer!" In reality, he couldn't wait to get as far away from his homework as possible. He avoided Snape like the plague this semester, paranoid that he suspected something.

Harry confirmed he would be coming along and redirected the discussion back to Voldemort and a textbook he had found on the first day of potions class, claiming to be property of 'The Half-Blood Prince'.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione left for the library without touching her breakfast.

O~O~O

Hermione sat cross-legged above her quilts, her curtains drawn around her bed in privacy. It was nearing midnight and outside snow blanketed the ground, reflecting the moonlight above. Nights spent gazing at the photograph had become routine and her heart beat faster at the prospect of encountering the blonde haired witch tomorrow. Her hopes had already been let down once before. The first time the students had gone to Hogsmeade this year Hermione had told her friends she had errands to run for Slughorn and would meet them back at the castle before curfew. Instead she had apparated to Knockturn Alley where, under the guise of more appropriate attire, she waited in secret for Narcissa. Colder months cloaked the streets in darkness early and Hermione was frightened at the array of characters she narrowly avoided that lurked the spoiled alleyways. She was freezing by the time she returned, her mood deflating further when she heard of the good times her friends had, had in the village.

With one last look at the photograph she returned it to the security of her enchanted bag. Tonight she must have stared at the picture for over an hour. Over the past weeks she had admitted to herself that the attraction she held for Narcissa was nothing like that for Ron. She had tried her hardest to imagine what it would be like, kissing him passionately, his hands running down her back but the thought did not stimulate her. If anything, she acted ignorant to his advancements and avoided the possibility of being alone with him.

She lay down under her blankets, closing her eyes, her hand caressing her stomach. Images of the Blacks flooded her mind and she allowed herself to pull up her nightshirt. She focused on her hardening nipples as she circled and pinched them softly at thought of Narcissa's dominance. Her body pressed against Hermione's, exploring the curve of her body and the sensitivity of her neck. Rich burgundy lips would find her own and she imagined welcoming the sweetness of Narcissa's tongue as it invaded her mouth.

Hermione could feel the heat in her core, the yearning to relieve her desire growing stronger as she fantasied of slender arms wrapping around her from behind and massaging the swell of her breasts. Her hand trailed down her own body and under her pyjama bottoms. Her imagination grew as her digits slid over the bundle of nerves and she buried her face in her pillow as she increased the strength of her movements. She bit her lip, tempted to explore the depths of her sex but instead returned to the mound which was becoming increasingly sensitive. Her mind raced and her hands kept the pace, her left stimulating her swollen nipples. When she felt her back beginning to arch she slowed and retrieved her hand regrettably. The size of the shared room made it almost impossible for anyone to pleasure themselves and not be heard. She had overheard girls whimper at night much to their embarrassment when others taunted them about it the next day. Hermione did not want to make the list but her sexual frustration had amplified as her longing to be touched by another grew stronger.

O~O~O

The train to Hogsmeade departed soon after the morning meal and the trio shared a carriage with Neville and Luna much to Hermione's relief. With company, regular conversation flowed freely and the brunette found herself laughing along with everyone at Neville's encounter with a particularly vicious garden gnome near the Herbology Greenhouses. Luna presented a vile of thick violet liquid claiming that it relieved aches and pains and Hermione graciously accepted, pocketing the ointment. There were no visible marks but over the last few days Hermione had clawed at her skin until it was red raw. A simple touch-up charm hid her self-inflicted lacerations but the intensity of the pain did not subside and many days she felt herself on the brink of collapse.

The locomotive soon came to standstill as it paralleled the station platform. Students descended the stairs and quickly made their way inside various stores to escape the frosty air. Hermione walked with her friends to Madame Rosemerta's tavern before saying goodbye.

"Urgh, yeah it's Slughorn again. He wants me to collect some items for our next potions class." She allowed Ron and Harry to glimpse at the forged note she had written earlier that morning before tucking it away inside her coat pocket.

"Oooh, teacher's pet." Ron teased jokingly.

"Shut-up Ron." Countered Hermione, rolling her eyes. "It's hardly a task someone would give to their favourite student. Anyway, I'll see you two later. If I'm back before the five o'clock curfew I'll meet you for a butter beer."

She turned on her heel, walking in the direction of some high thatched roofs. When she was sure no one was in sight, she disapparated with a quiet 'pop'.

O~O~O

The snow covered streets of Knockturn Alley gave the illusion of innocence to the destitute suburb. Winter's breath blew icy kisses against the young witch's cheeks as she sheltered from the falling pearly flakes. She waited in view of Borgin and Burke, examining each cloaked figure closely hoping that one would be her.

An hour had passed and Hermione felt her legs growing numb. At times she couldn't tell if it was frostbite or the unknown pain that was causing her the discomfort in her neck. She slumped against the alley's wall, its filth rubbing off on her coat. Tears welled and stung her eyes, blurring her vision. It was happening again. The gnawing sensation that begged to be fed with sharpened fingernails. Fumbling in pocket, Hermione salvaged the vile Luna had given her and applied it generously. Her sensory receptors went haywire as the intensity increased, the bile in her throat rising. She tore at her delicate flesh, crimson droplets tainting the earth's pure canvas.

When most of the violet liquid was removed, the pain receded slightly but the damage was already done. Hermione lay on her side, using the natural chill of the snow to relieve the throbbing in her neck. Any use of magic only amplified the stabbing ache tenfold. Sweat pasted her hair to her skin and her eyes were distant as she attempted to regulate her breathing. Her head was spinning and her body weak.

A faint ringing in her ears made her groan but she became alert as it quickly silenced. She listened carefully, dragging her body up and resting on her elbows. Through the shop's window she could see a beautifully handcrafted cabinet with decorative brass handles. She waited a moment longer before she heard the distinct ring again. The door of Borgin and Burke swung open and there standing in the doorway was Narcissa. She dipped her head gracefully at the shop's keeper before shielding her face with an elegant, fur hood. Hermione's heart hammered as she watched the cloaked figure walk out onto the snowy streets and turn in the opposite direction.

"Madame Malfoy!" It took all of Hermione's strength to struggle to her feet and come out of her hiding spot.

If the blonde had heard the younger witch she didn't give any indication.

Hermione ran towards her, clutching her neck as the pain seared her flesh and burrowed into the bone.

"Narcis-!" As she screamed the older woman's name she fell, giving into the agony that consumed her body. Her eyes fluttering shut as the icy ground provided some comfort.

In seconds, a protective body knelt beside Hermione, gasping at the discolouration of her face and the raw flesh exposed at her neck. Delicate hands cupped her face and desperate words urged her to open her eyes.

"Bella, what have you done?"

Hermione was unresponsive; all she could make out was the hurried footsteps of another woman and a hushed argument before her world began to spin.

To Be Continued...