I'm trying to get these chapters out as soon as possible so I don't lose steam on this story, so here is another one!

Chapter 17

Hermione left the Room of Requirement shortly thereafter, deep in thought. She had known that Draco had harbored deep feelings of regret over taking the Dark Mark. What she hadn't realized was just how deeply those feeling had run, and how much they were affecting him. She had assumed that by know he would have found some sort of…comfort in the fact that he had been forced into what he had done, but clearly his guilt weighed too heavily on him for that.

It made her that much more upset at the way Professor Dumbledore was using him, like he was some kind of lamb without feeling to be sacrificed for a greater cause. There was, unfortunately, nothing she could do about it at this point. Everything had already been set into motion.

She walked into the Gryffindor Common Room, flopping gracelessly into her favorite armchair by the fireplace. Crookshanks, seeing that his witch had returned, leapt up into her lap. Turning and stretching, he finally found the position that his half-Kneazle mind deemed perfect, curled into a ball, and began purring loudly when she started stroking his ginger fur. Hermione knew that Harry would be returning soon so that they three of them could begin to try to piece together the newest information he had gotten from Professor Dumbledore.

She had nearly dozed off, lulled by the warmth of the fireplace and the soothing comfort of her familiar's purrs, when Ron trudged noisily down from the boys' dormitory. She watched as he looked around, almost cautiously. Seeing her in her perch by the fire, he bounded over and dropped into a spot on the couch closest to her with a look on his face that she could best describe as…relieved.

"Who were you looking for, Ronald?" she asked curiously, choosing to ignore the fact that this was the first thing she could remember saying to him since before they had left for Christmas break.

"Oh," he said, looking a bit sheepish. "I was just making sure Lav…um, never mind. Is Harry back yet?" he asked instead, changing the subject while he ran his hand nervously through his hair.

Hermione wondered briefly if there was trouble in paradise, then decided that she honestly didn't care. It served Ron right if there was. She could have told him that Lavender tended to be a bit clingy with her beaus if he'd ever bothered to mention his interest in the other witch to her or to Harry: if he had only asked them about her before snogging her in front of the entirety of Gryffindor Tower's occupants on a whim while riding a victory high. After all, she had lived with the witch for the majority of the year for six years now.

"No, I don't think so. At least, I haven't seen him yet," she answered instead, pushing away the less-than-kind thoughts about her friend.

They sat in an awkward, heavy silence that was broken only by the pop of the logs in the fireplace and her familiar's loud purrs. Neither one had much to say to the other…or perhaps they each had too much to say. Either way, neither one of them was willing to speak first, so they did not speak at all. Thankfully, the silence only stretched out for a few minutes before Harry finally stumbled through the portrait hall and into the empty common room. He walked over to where the two of them sat, dropping onto the couch beside Ron.

"How'd your lesson with Professor Dumbledore go, Harry?" Hermione asked, lifting Crookshanks from her lap so she could lean in closer to the boys and receiving a very disgruntled look in return from her familiar's yellow eyes before he stalked away, tail twitching in annoyance.

Hermione and Ron both listened intently as Harry told them first about how Riddle had killed his father, whom he had so despised merely for being a Muggle and for not loving the witch who had dosed him with love potions, along with both of his father's parents; then Riddle returned and planted a false memory in the mind of his uncle, Morfin Gaunt, that he had killed the Muggles before stealing his uncle's family signet ring and leaving the man to a life imprisonment in Azkaban.

Next, Harry told them about a falsified memory from Professor Slughorn, from back when Tom Riddle had still been a student at Hogwarts. Harry told them how Riddle had asked about something called a Horcrux, which Hermione had never heard of nor, judging by the look of puzzlement on his face, had Ron. Harry explained how the memory had seemed…off. Things had been artificial and fake and therefore Dumbledore had been unable to decipher the true value and meaning of the memory, although the headmaster had been certain that this memory was vitally important to their task.

"It's almost like someone hacked into the memory to alter it," Hermione puzzled, more to herself than to anyone else, but Harry nodded anyway. Ron just looked puzzled.

"Hacked? You mean, like, with a weapon? How could you use a weapon against a memory?"

Hermione and Harry just looked at each other and smiled, used to Ron's confusion over most Muggle phrases.

"Don't worry about it, Ron," Harry said. "It's a Muggle thing."

"Well," Hermione said, unsure of what more she could contribute if Dumbledore himself could not decipher the meaning of the memory, "I guess the first thing to do would be to try to research what a Horcrux is. I mean, if Riddle had to ask a professor about it, I doubt we'll be able to find anything on the subject in the library, but there's no better place to start looking."

This time it was Harry and Ron that shared a smile at Hermione's expense. They knew her philosophy whenever it came to any problem, big or small. When in doubt, go to the library. But really, they didn't have any other thoughts about where to start, so the library was as good a place as any.

"Until we can do more research," Hermione said, covering a wide yawn with the back her hand, "there's not much else we will learn tonight. I'm going to go to bed. Goodnight Harry. Ron."

She made her way up the stairs that led to the girls' dormitories, happy to see that all of her dormmates were sound asleep when she entered their shared room. Her mind was whirling with all she had learned tonight. Thoughts of Voldemort killing his family and framing his uncle when he had been only seventeen years old, as well as researching what she felt certain was dark magic in the form of Horcruxes, swirled through her brain. Of course, the biggest mystery was…what was a Horcrux?

But as she lay down in her warm, comfortable bed, the thought that raced through her mind above all others was the memory of Draco's tears earlier that evening. His soul might be battered and bruised at the moment, but it was beautiful, and she found that she loved him a little more tonight than she had that morning. She would protect him, even if the person she had to protect him from the most was himself.

Song Inspiration: Come and Goes (in Waves) – Greg Laswell

I obviously borrowed heavily on the Half-Blood Prince for this chapter. I tried to make it as original as possible, so hopefully it feels new and fresh.

sbz