Her nightmares grew darker, more intense, more dreadful. She dreamed of a world where her friends turned on her, deciding that she wasn't worth their love and loyalty because of whose blood was running through her veins. Danger was around every corner, lurking in the shadowed reality, and her closest people were her enemies. Nowhere was safe and she kept running until a black void consumed her. It was exhausting and no potion helped her sleep better at night. Her scar burned every time she woke up and she feared closing her eyes, knowing an inevitable onslaught of horrid pictures, constructed by her own mind, awaited her.

She was pretty sure she would lose her sanity soon.

Consuming information from the books Theo had provided her was beginning to turn into a challenge and absorbing any useful knowledge felt like a daunting task. Her current reading material wasn't easy to get through.

She needed to get it together, or else, Theo threatened to stop supplying her with his books. They were meeting once a week, to discuss what they had learned so far, and when he had seen her last time, having a hard time keeping focus, he told her she needed to take a break.

"We can't take breaks," she had told him to which he gave her a disapproving look and said, "You look like mess. You need to sleep."

She had wanted to punch him in that moment. She wanted to sleep. She didn't know if it was the frown to his lips, or the flicker of worry in his eyes, but she told him about her nightmares. It turned out to be a mistake, because in turn, he took away the books from her and only promised to give her more after she stopped looking like death. The problem was she didn't know how.

Now, without a way to progress in her research, she slumped at the table in the library, finishing up on essays for her classes. Her mind was elsewhere, though, missing the company of her best friends. Their letters laid on her desk in her room, and she couldn't bear to write them back. What could she say? There's a curse wreaking havoc at school and I'm losing my mind? She didn't want to lie, but she also didn't want to burden them with a problem they wouldn't be able to solve.

Hermione had thought, hard, about involving the Headmistress or even the Ministry if needed, despite Theo's warnings not to. She came to the realization that it could cause more harm than be of any help. For one, Theo was keeping the most important information—the why, the when, the how—and all she could provide was the fact that there was, indeed, something strange happening at Hogwarts. While Professor McGonagall might take her word for it that there was some diabolical curse involved, there wouldn't be much she could do. If she went straight to the Ministry, and they sent someone to investigate, the risk of that individual falling victim to the curse was substantial, which could lead to the curse spreading beyond the confines of the school, and that would be catastrophic. Although, she had mused, that it might have already been too late for keeping the curse at bay as she remembered all of the times she, Harry, and Ron sneaked out of the castle.

"Am I interrupting?"

She recognized Neville's familiar voice, which brought her back to reality. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of which version of her friend she was speaking to, because even though he hadn't showcased any signs of the curse's influence, she could never be too careful, but the awkward smile plastered on his face and embarrassment evident in his eyes in response to her wary demeanor made her relax.

"No," she told him, mustering a smile of her own. "Join me."

He complied and after making some space on the table for his books and papers, she asked, "Have you been talking to Hannah?"

He shook his head. "Not really."

"Oh."

"Are you still blaming yourself for our breakup?" he asked with a frown. Rationally Hermione knew that her quarrel with Hannah wasn't part of the reason Neville had broken up with the Head Girl, but she still couldn't help feeling just a tiny pang of guilt that it might have been a factor in a way. She said nothing to that, staring at her essay instead. "It wasn't working out anymore. And I've had my eyes on someone else."

"Luna, huh?" she asked, looking up at him.

She had noticed the two of them were closer than before, although she couldn't tell if it had bloomed into something more than just a friendship.

"Yes," he admitted with a blush spreading over his cheeks.

He shuffled in his bag, his face scrunching into a more serious expression. "You know, no one really wants to talk about it," he said and when she gave him a confused look in response, he added, "About what's happening at school."

"They blame it on lack of sleep, stress with exams, trauma after the war, but everyone is mostly embarrassed with their behavior," he continued. "But it's more than that, isn't it?"

With how exhausted she felt, Hermione was having a hard time getting her brain to process information quickly and respond accordingly. If the word got out that there was a curse feasting on students, it would trigger widespread panic and disorder, further escalating the chaos. She had no doubt in her mind about that. She trusted Neville, much like she trusted Ginny, and yet she could still feel the sting of hurt caused by Ginny's words, influenced by her friend's unpredictable emotional state. Neville was currently behaving in his usual manner, but she couldn't be certain that once the curse had a stronger grip on him, he wouldn't betray her. Then again, he was her friend, and she didn't feel she should lie to him about something that had a direct impact on him.

"Yes," was her response and she hoped she wasn't going to regret it.

Neville hummed at her admittance. "Does this have to do with that Slytherin you're spending time with?"

"I—" she stammered, struggling to work out whether implicating that Theo had known more than what she was willing to share with Neville was a good idea. "Possibly," she settled on that.

"Do you trust him?"

Hermione thought bitterly that Neville had the worst timing to ask her such questions. She and Theo had already had their disagreements, but she was putting a lot of faith in him and his words. She had thoughts that perhaps everything he had told her was a lie, but then, why would he bother to go to such lengths? What would be the point? Did she trust him the same way she trusted Harry and Ron? No. But she was choosing to trust him and hoped she wouldn't get burned in the end.

"I hope I can," she said, opting for honesty.

"Do you like him?"

There was no reason for Neville to ask that, and there was no reason for the blush to rise to her cheeks at the question. "He's—nice," she drawled, aware of the wide grin spread across his face and the warmth radiating off her skin.

"Alright," he simply said and got to work on his essay, without pressing her for any more details. She couldn't hide her surprise and relief, and when he looked over at her and noticed her expression, he didn't comment on it. Instead he pointed at her half-blank paper and remarked with a hint of worry in his voice, "It's not everyday that I see you struggling with schoolwork. Do you want to go over the topic once more together?"

She gave him a genuine smile and nodded.

The nightmares wouldn't stop, Theo wouldn't budge in his stance every time he saw the dark circles under her eyes and unfocused gaze, so she resorted to keeping herself awake and energized with Invigoration Draughts and coffee.

She knew it wasn't sustainable in the long run, but for the time being, her mind had cleared, and she experienced glimpses of her usual brilliance. The thought roaming around her head was why wasn't she affected by the curse. She had been in close contact with so many friends and acquaintances that were exhibiting the symptoms, there was no reason for her not to fall under the influence as well. The scar apparent on her arm, which seared with pain each time she awoke from nightmares, made her wonder if it had something to do with her blood. The same blood that flowed through the veins of any wizards and witches considered 'pure', but if it was the intent that mattered, then it was a possibility, and Hermione was troubled by the end goal of this specific curse if that were the case. She decided to test her theory and talk to any Muggle-born students at school to try to find out if they had been feeling out of sync with their emotions. Whether this lead would prove her right or wrong didn't matter as much; she finally felt like she was starting to make progress.

When Theo saw her suddenly bursting with energy, he had been highly skeptical about the means she had managed to pull herself together, but he had promised to bring her back into research after she looked in better condition, so he did. Not only had he kept his word, he had offered to take her to his family Manor over the weekend to go through his private collection there. She had been stunned at the proposition and had said no at first. After all, could she really spend two days at the house of a fellow Slytherin she didn't know that well (and who liked to tease her and made her blush), in a place that belonged to a family known for their belief in blood supremacy? Theo had made a compelling argument that they could get so much more work done if they sat for hours, reading through as many dark books as they could, and she finally, although reluctantly, agreed. The drive to make progress outweighed her need for comfort. They had agreed to meet in the early Saturday hours, on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, to apparate to his Manor. Her last years at Hogwarts turned out to be about sneaking out with a Slytherin and learning about dark magic.

Friday evening, she found Dennis Creevey, the younger brother of the deceased Gryffindor student from her year, Colin Creevey. He was a small boy who oozed enthusiasm and was happy to share with her the stories of what him and his brother used to be up to. He was a ball of positivism and cheerfulness, and revealed to her that the last time he could remember feeling anger was when he had found out about his brother's death.

The next on her list was Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Hufflepuff, who she remembered used to admire Gilderoy Lockhart and his fabricated tales. He wasn't so keen on conversing with her when she had approached him, but she needed information, so she put on her most charming persona and coaxed him into a short exchange by fawning over his idol. She tried to steer the conversation towards her intended topic, but he became defensive and informed her that he had a close-knit circle of friends who rarely made him mad, and anyway, why was she asking him that?

After the headache inducing talk with Justin, she had one more student to speak with. Unfortunately, there weren't many Muggle-born students attending Hogwarts this year, but she was hopeful that this would change in the upcoming years. The war had terrified many.

She sought out Kevin Entwhistle, a Ravenclaw student, who was fairly indifferent to her presence. He thought her smart and entertained a small chat with her about the current curriculum. When asked about how well he was in control of his emotions, he calmly assured her that he hadn't been displaying any signs of whatever his fellow schoolmates were grappling with. She thanked him for his time.

It wasn't a broad data sample, but she considered it a step in the right direction. She had four students, including herself, who were all Muggle-borns, and not one of them exhibited any symptoms of being under the influence of the curse. She decided that it was a strange occurrence, and hoped it could prove useful in her future research. A big, private library awaited her.