"Professor?" asked Hermione, hovering by the door.

Headmistress/Professor McGonagall looked up from the copy of the Daily Prophet she had been reading.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" She waved at the seat before her desk and Hermione stepped inside the office.

"This won't take long...I-I was just wondering about what happened to Cormac McLaggen," Hermione said hesitantly.

Putting aside her newspaper, the older woman peered up at Hermione through her spectacles.

"You were present when he was expelled, unless my memory is failing me."

"Yes, but I was just thinking how odd it is that nobody has heard from him since."

The Headmisstress folded her hands on her desk.

"There's not much to say, really," she began. "Shortly after his expulsion I was informed by his parents that they planned to move to America. Perhaps they decided a change of schools was the best remedy for their son's behavior." She wrinkled her brow. "Although I couldn't imagine why they would want to. The American schools lack finesse."

Feeling the weight on her shoulders lift, Hermione managed a tiny smile. McGonagall gave her a stern stare.

"Is there a reason for your concern?"

"Morbid curiosity, I suppose."

"Then will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you."

"The Masquerade Ball is in a few days. Is everything in order?"

"Just about. We've decided not to book a band this year if that's alright. We're simply going to hire a string quartet to make things more sophisticated," Hermione added.

"A sensible choice," McGonagall paused for a moment, "Dumbledore...Albus always insisted on a Masquerade party. I always said no. With young people, they rarely go well."

There was a mourning look in her eyes but her tone of voice was one of mild irritation, like an older sibling speaking of their youngest. Hermione wanted to smile but restrained it, too aware of the fact that this was perhaps the most personal conversation she had ever had with her Head of House.

"I hope I do not regret this," she said, and there was no further hint of any other emotion in her voice.

"We will make sure it goes well," Hermione promised.

McGonagall's eyes turned sharp again. Back to business.

"Have you found a costume yet?"

"I found something a week ago in Hogsmeade. Or rather, Ginny found it, and she made me buy it," Hermione replied, laughing softly.

"And you are going with Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked.

"He hasn't asked me yet, but I suppose so," Hermione said, her hands suddenly fumbling and tied up in each other.

The older woman nodded, pushing her chair back and standing up. She gave Hermione a small smile.

"Very well. You must forgive me for being abrupt, my dear, but there is a staff meeting in a matter of minutes and I must be on my way."

"Of course," Hermione conceded and left.

Walking back to her dorm, she felt her smile grow wider. So Malfoy had been bluffing after all. Although she still wasn't feeling very hospitable towards Cormac, she was glad he was out of Malfoy's grasp.

"Hey."

She turned quickly and waved to Ron, who was approaching her from the staircase she had just passed.

"What is it, Ron?" she asked.

"We need to talk," he said seriously.

Hermione frowned. "Okay, shall we go to the common room?"

"We can't talk there about this," he said. "Look, let's go in there."

"Er-okay."

They went into a nearby empty classroom.

"What's this about?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Are you mad at me? What did I do?"

"Funny," he said, "I was going to ask you the same thing."

"What do you mean?"

Ron crossed his arms too and frowned at her. "You've been avoiding me."

Hermione feigned a laugh. "No, I haven't. I've been really busy lately, you know that, with all the duties I have and all this studying."

"Then why won't you look me in the eye anymore? You'll spend time with Harry but I don't think you and I've spoken for more than ten minutes since term started. You hardly sit with me and Harry at meals, you know." His expression changed to one of hurt. "We're your best friends, Hermione. You know you can always tell us anything."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered, crossing her arms and lifting her chin to meet his sad blue eyes. "I'm not mad at you, either. It's just-"

"You bloody well know," he said softly, almost angrily. "You're embarrassed about what happened last year. You think it's your fault he died, don't you? Is that what Malfoy brainwashed you into thinking?"

"He didn't brainwash me, Ron," she said. "It's just all so hard to talk about, okay? It was bad enough telling Harry about it."

"I understand that," he said gently. "I just wanted to make sure I didn't play a part in you not opening up."

"Not at all."

"You hardly spoke a word all summer, Hermione. Harry and I are worried about you."

"I'm fine," she insisted. "Obviously that wasn't the best couple of months for me or anyone else for that matter but I'm alright, Ron, I promise."

"You've got a right to be upset about this and be upset about Dumbledore," he said. "What happened to him doesn't make what happened to you any less awful."

"Dumbledore is gone," she said, shaking her head. "He mattered so much more than my problems with Malfoy." She faltered. "If-If I hadn't been so stupid and weak, I could have stopped Malfoy sooner."

"Don't talk about yourself like that," he said. "Harry said Malfoy kept you from getting help."

She nodded. "But he didn't in the beginning. I had time to tell and get help, and I didn't because I thought it would go stop, and I was unused to the situation, and I was scared."

"Hermione..."

"It's my own fault," she said, her voice wavering. "All of it. Even Dumbledore."

His frown deepened. "No, it isn't. None of it is."

"How do you know for sure?" she asked sharply. "Even Malfoy said it. I had so much time to get help and because I didn't, I only made it easier for him."

She took a step back, crying, hiding her face in her hands. Ron approached her slowly, put his hand on her arm.

"Malfoy said the curse, not you," he said. "Malfoy took advantage of you because he's no better than troll dung. You know Dumbledore would rather have died than let Malfoy take you with him."

"But he died anyway!" Hermione said, agitated. "He died because I wouldn't-"

"You wouldn't kiss Malfoy!" Ron finished for her. "No one blames you for that. That was a rotten trick he pulled, but you and I both know that he was going to kill Dumbledore whether you did it or not."

"But if I had, that would have bought us time! Harry could have killed or restrained him then! But because I wouldn't, he killed him!"

Her voice had turned shrill, thickened by tears. Ron reached for her and she hesitated before stepping in close and he crushed her to him in one of his bear hugs reserved especially for her.

"We can't change what's already happened, Hermione," he said gently. "Malfoy bears the blame, not you. You're not weak, either. You fought him off! You're still here and the best thing you can do is heal and grow stronger. Me and Harry will be here with you every step of the way."

A great wet sniff escaped her and she began to sob then, tears soaking into his robes as he held her. Ron made soothing noises and rubbed her back, letting her burrow her head into the front of his robes as she broke down.

"I just hate him so much," she said through her tears. And then laughed abruptly.

He smiled.

"I know."

By the time she had stopped crying Ron's arms were stiff and sore, and her eyes were quite red.

"Feeling better?" he asked, and she nodded.

She sniffed and was silent, wiping at her eyes. "I didn't mean to avoid you for so long," she said. "I'm sorry, Ron."

"I want you to know something, Hermione," he said quietly. "I know you went through a lot last year, and I know you may not feel comfortable talking about it with me, but I want you to know I'm here for you. I always will be."

Her arms had crossed again. She wiped at her eyes one last time and smiled at him.

"Thank you," she said. Ron pressed a kiss to her forehead and released her.

"Let's go find Harry, eh?" he asked. "I bet he's asleep in the common room again."


"Your hair's back to normal," Harry commented the next day as he approached Hermione, whom he had just encountered on his trip to the back of the library. She was standing, having just gotten up to fetch more books when she had caught sight of him.

Hermione lifted a lock of her own hair, smiling as she examined the familiar dark brown curls.

"I rather liked it when it was black," she admitted. "It made me feel like a different person."

"No matter what your hair color is, I'll like you all the same," Harry said softly.

The color heightened in her cheeks and he watched as she fidgeted nervously for a second, smiling shyly.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked, willing her cheeks to stop their infernal flaming. "You rarely ever come all the way back here."

"Maurauder's Map, of course," he grinned.

She smiled back, and took in his Quidditch robes slung over his arm. "Shouldn't you be at practice? Or did something happen?" she inquired.

"I should probably be going," he agreed, "But I think they can get on without me for a minute or two, don't you think?"

She frowned. "I suppose so, but would that be setting a good example?"

Harry smiled and sat down beside her. "I reckon they don't mind having some extra time before practice."

She leaned into him and he turned to face her better. Gave her a moment to adjust, then caught her lips with his own. The pressure of her lips against his was sweet. Even sweeter was the way her hand came up to his chest, just underneath his collar.

Hermione felt her mind cloud as he kissed her with a passionate fervor she struggled to replicate. The talk she'd had with Ron the day before was still weighing over her. Did Harry know what they had talked about? She wanted to ask.

He was kissing against her throat now, his breathing tickling her skin. Worried, she glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, but they were shielded from anyone else's view by the nearest bookcases.

His hand slid down her waist to her hip. Hermione felt anxiety tighten in her chest, even as she kissed him back.

"I had to see you," he said, his voice low in her ear. "I've been thinking about you all day."

Oh.

Heat flooded her face. Her head fell back as his mouth trailed its way up her throat and back up to her lips. His hand at her hip gave an experimental squeeze. Her breath caught.

Her kisses were unsure and hesitant, and a small part of him began to worry.

He pulled her more tightly against his body and she made to pull away, but with a sudden fierceness he did not know he possessed he backed her into the wall, her gasp of alarm muffled by his kiss.

"Wait-" she began, but could not finish her plea for him to stop before he pressed his lips to hers again, and Hermione felt her own voice drown inside of herself. She reached out to hold him at an arm's length but when he felt her hands clenching at the front of his robes he misread the action as enthusiasm and pressed on.

"I do-"

He pressed his hips against hers and she felt his desire through his trousers and suddenly, it wasn't Harry before her but Malfoy himself; his clear eyes hooded with desire as he made love to her mouth. She froze, her heart pounding.

It's Harry, she tried to remind herself. Not Malfoy.

But his hands slid down her back and cupped her bum through her skirt, and suddenly she was trapped between Malfoy and a door and his hand was around her throat and his hand was crawling all over her body.

Harry's hand squeezed her bum gently.

The stupor broke-she wrestled against his hold, wrenching her head to the side when he came up for air.

"Harry, let me go," she whispered.

The desire in his eyes cleared at once as he took in her anxious, frightened expression.

She was looking at him as if he were a monster.

"Oh Merlin," he breathed, but before he could move she had pushed him away rather violently from herself and had gathered her things as quickly as she could with shaking hands.

"Hermione," he pleaded. "Please- I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking-Hermione!" He followed her as she made her exit, grabbing her arm.

She whipped around, curls fanning out behind her, and pointed her wand at him.

His heart cracked at the look of utter betrayal and hurt in her eyes, which were threatening to overflow with tears. He let her go.

"Do not come near me," she ordered, her voice was wild and furious, and yet impossibly sad. "I do not want you around me right now."

She turned and fled.


Neville looked up as the door to the Head Common Room opened and a very shaken Hermione stepped through, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. He frowned.

She had seen him by now, and guiltily made a beeline straight for her room.

"What's wrong?" he asked, quickly taking in her appearance, looking for bruises or scrapes or lingering effects of any jinxes or hexes that might have been sent her way.

His eyes took in her swollen lips, her mussed hair and disheveled robes, and he froze. Normally girls enjoyed a good snog, but he guessed this was the opposite for Hermione, who was still trying to dry the tear tracks on her cheeks. Try all she might, her efforts did not reduce the redness of her eyes. Who had done it? Who had reduced her to this state?

"Who was it?" he asked.

"Harry," she muttered sadly.

"What did he do?" he demanded, leading her inside to her room and sitting her down on her bed and handed her a tissue.

She muttered a small thanks and blew her nose daintily before she looked away and said, "He acted just like he did."

Neville understood at once who she meant.

"...Like Cormac?" he asked, hating himself for not being able to reveal he knew who she really was talking about.

She hesitated for a second, but nodded quickly.

"He kissed me, and it was ok at first," she confessed. "But then it got…intense, and he wouldn't stop, and all I could see was M-Cormac in my head, and I panicked." She couldn't meet his eyes, tears of shame trailed down her cheeks.

"I'm so stupid," she groaned, holding her face in her hands. "He's my boyfriend, for Merlin's sake! One snog and I fall to pieces!"

"Hermione, he crossed the line. You weren't comfortable and he should have stopped when he realized that. He should have known you wouldn't be ready for something like that yet."

"I should have told him," Hermione said. "I wasn't having a good day and all I could think about was what happened last year. I had to push him away from me."

"Well I'm proud of you for defending yourself," Neville said.

"I feel awful," she admitted. "I can't go one day without thinking of him. It's ruining everything."

"You just need time," Neville said patiently. "The thing with McLaggen wasn't that long ago. Of course it's still fresh on your mind. But you have control over whether it'll affect you forever or not."

She nodded.

"You're right," she said faintly. "I won't let it."

Or at least, I'll try not to let it. He can't win.

Neville left Hermione brooding in her room and returned to the common room. He sighed.

What the hell, Harry.

It looked like his Potions essay would have to wait. What was the matter with everyone lately? Neville set out for the Gryffindor tower in search of Harry.


Draco hung up his cloak and sat down at his desk, grimacing as he banged his injured leg against the upholstery.

It had been a rough day; his training session with the Dark Lord that morning had just about depleted his energy and it was taking up the last of it now to restrain himself from dropping to the floor and sleeping there. Not even Aunt Bella had remained unscathed by the Dark Lord's tantrum. Draco suspected the Dark Lords' foul mood had something to do with the rumors of his latest plan being foiled once again by the blasted Order of the bloody Phoenix.

Pain flared up in his leg again as he dropped down into an armchair, reaching for his wand. Once the injury had been healed he leaned back in his chair and sighed, feeling better than he had in days. So far he'd learnt numerous new dark spells and battle tactics, he had volunteered to serve in several small missions meant for the Death Eaters. All of them had been the same: find a certain person and either annihilate them or take them to the Dark Lord.

He thought to his dallies in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. His most recent visit had been his fourth; he'd found another mark who very nearly completely resembled his Hermione: she'd had the large brown eyes and the upturned nose, the pouty, delicate lips, and of course, the curls. But she had had too-thick eyebrows and a large birthmark by her right ear. Nonetheless, he had had fun with her. He'd lured her into a secluded corner and apparated her into a shoddy cabin somewhere in the country-side, where he'd spent hours fulfilling his fantasies. He could only imagine what Hermione would feel like as he thrust into the unfortunate woman, hoarsely moaning out her name as he spilled himself inside her again and again. She had been disposed of in the same manner as the others before her, and surprisingly, Draco's frustration mounted rather than relented.

The pleasure was always fleeting-it never lasted long after the sex. What he'd thought would tame his lust only inflamed it, and at the same rate it grew, so did his temper. Draco frowned deeply, wondering what she was up to at the moment. Was she with Potter now? Or was the little bird hiding away in her own room?

"I've news."

The voice brought him out of his reverie, and he looked up. Blaise stood at the door to his study, looking as though he was on the verge of breaking into a smug grin.

Draco motioned for him to come in and sit down.

"Do tell."

Blaise sat down eagerly and hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I heard from a reliable source," he began.

Draco snorted.

"That Granger and the Head Boy are to host a Masquerade Ball on Hallow's Eve," he finished grandly, as though Draco had never interrupted. Grinning, he conjured himself a glass of wine.

"I must go," Draco said at once. A hundred possible plans began to take form in his mind; was the hour come at last? If everything went well he'd finally have her.

"Wonderful, darling, but how?" Blaise quipped, swirling the wine around in the glass before taking a sip. "You're not exactly welcome at Hogwarts, you know."

"Of course I'm not welcome at that bloody school," Draco drawled. "But who says I'm going as myself?"