Another Way to Die by annakae

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 27/02/2005
Last Updated: 06/03/2005
Status: Completed

**COMPLETED!** One day, Hermione starts acting very strange. Suddenly she begins to fancy
Malfoy, enjoys skipping around the Great Hall, is being abnormally polite to Ron, is skipping
classes, and absolutely hates Harry Potter. Harry has his suspicions but, overall, he's very
lost and confused.




1. Chapter 1
------------



**Title:** Another Way to Die

**Summary:** One day, Hermione starts acting very strange. Suddenly she begins to fancy
Malfoy, enjoys skipping around the Great Hall, is being abnormally polite to Ron, is skipping
classes, and absolutely hates Harry Potter. What the bloody hell is going on here?

**Rating:** PG (for later romance, rating may rise *hint hint*)

**A/N:** This is my first ever story here on this site. I was just recently accepted and
I'm so happy that I am able to join all the authors here on PK. Now, about this story… I
*know* the title makes it sound really depressing but it doesn't really mean anything
until we get further into the plot. I'm not sure how many chapters this story is going to end
up being but I know where it's going.

Please be kind and review, like all authors, I love feedback! Thank you for choosing my story
and I hope you enjoy and follow this story in the future. Wow, I sound like a flight attendant.
Anyway - on with the story!

**Chapter One --**

It was just another normal evening in late September at Hogwarts as Harry, Ron and Hermione sat
in the common room doing homework. The three sixth years already felt immensely over worked, even
though they had barely been at school for a month.

“Sod it. I give up,” said Ron, breaking the silence. He tilted back his chair as he pushed his
parchment, quill, and ink away from him.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes but continued to work. Harry looked up from his homework,
expecting her scolding remarks which he knew so well. But, when no such remarks came, he put down
his quill with a plan to test the winds.

“I give up too,” he said, starting to get up from his chair. He watched Hermione intently and
saw a muscle twitch in her jaw. He heard her sigh again.

“Harry…”

“Yes?” asked Harry, innocently. Hermione looked up from her work, annoyed.

“You can't just *not* do your homework,” she began, her usual scolding, “You're
already behind as it is!”

Harry smiled and slowly sat back down. “Okay.”

“What, you're just going to listen to her?” asked Ron.

“Yeah,” said Harry as he picked up his quill again.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because she's right,” said Harry, *as always.* He snuck a glance at Hermione and saw a
small, yet apparent, accomplished smile on her face. Ron glanced between the two of them, oblivious
to the game they were playing.

“You two are so strange,” he said, exasperated.

“If you wanted help you could've just asked for it,” said Hermione impatiently.

“I know you're not going to help me - even if I ask. Because, as you always say, `If you
want to pass your N.E.W.T.s then you need to work *on your own* without *any* help from
people who are more *intelligent* than you,'” said Ron, imitating Hermione's voice, or
attempting to, rather. He was very far off as his voice was about an octave lower.

“I never said that!” retorted Hermione.

“Well, you said something like it. Something that had to do with intelligence and help and some
other rubbish of the like…” he continued, knowing he was touching a nerve.

“Ron, you know I'm right! If you continuously depend on my help, then you'll never be
able to have a life after Hogwarts. If you don't work hard now then -”

“You'll regret it later,” finished Harry and Ron flatly in unison.

Hermione was trying her best to contain her anger. She just wanted to know *why* Ron was
always such an insolent little -

“So are you going to help me or not?” asked Ron, snidely.

“No!” said Hermione, “I don't think you deserve my help at all.”

“And why not? I bet you'd help Harry if he asked. Go on Harry, ask her,” said Ron, motioning
to Harry.

Hermione blushed slightly and felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She was hoping very much that
Harry wouldn't ask her because she already knew what her answer would be.

Harry said nothing and Hermione mentally relaxed.

“Harry, come on, mate! Help me out here!” said Ron, almost begging now. He didn't like
loosing to Hermione. He also didn't like it when Harry and Hermione seemed to know something he
didn't.

When Harry again stayed silent, Ron let his chair tip back down to the ground with a bang and
stood up.

“Well, it's not worth trying to get help if there's no help to get.”

And with that, he left the common room and went up the stairs to the dormitory leaving Harry,
Hermione and all his books and quills alone.

The two students worked in silence just enjoying the company and the now available ability to
concentrate.

The sound of Hermione's quill scratching away was distracting Harry to no end. It didn't
help at all that he had no idea what he was going to write. It also didn't help that he had no
clue how to do the spell they were learning in Transfiguration at all whatsoever.

“Hermione?” he asked quietly.

Hermione stopped working, looked up, and gave Harry her undivided attention so quickly that he
was momentarily startled.

“Yes, Harry?” she asked.

“I was wondering if you could help me on the Transfiguration,” he said, recovering.

“Yeah, sure. What is that you don't understand?”

“Everything.”

Hermione smiled slightly and they got to work. Hermione was constantly babbling on about wand
movements, incantation enunciation and the origin of the spell but Harry wasn't taking in one
second of it. He was wondering why Hermione was so keen to help him and didn't seem to want to
help Ron at all before. She hadn't looked like she wanted to be distracted from her work, but
when he had asked for help, she immediately responded.

“Harry, is that better?” asked Hermione after what seemed like forever.

“Sorry?” asked Harry.

Hermione smiled again, “Have you been listening at all?”

“Erm… sorta,” replied Harry weakly.

“Sort of? Well… I'm not going to say all of that over again,” said Hermione in a would-be
scolding voice but instead it sounded patient and understanding. Although, Harry didn't know
how she could be understanding of his “not listening” in this situation.

“Okay, well…” she continued, beginning to pack up her school bag, “We should probably go up to
bed. It's getting late.”

“Right. Late,” Harry shook his head and also started to pack up his bag.

“I can't believe that Ron just left out all his things out… so rude and disorganized.
He's going to forget something for Charms tomorrow morning, I know it,” said Hermione, shaking
her head.

There was a short awkward moment where Harry and Hermione just stood by the table thinking about
whatever was on their mind. Harry was presently thinking about how kindly Hermione had been acting
toward him lately. Hermione was thinking about what material she should start to study for next
week's Arithmancy test and was also wondering what Harry was thinking about.

“Well, g'night,” said Hermione. She gave Harry a brief, awkward, one-armed hug and left up
the spiral staircase to the girls' dormitories leaving a very thoughtful Harry standing in the
semi-darkness.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The next morning during breakfast, Harry again noticed changes in the way Hermione was acting
towards him and Ron.

“I can't find my quill…” mumbled Ron as he dug through his bag. Hermione made a distinct
“humph” sound. “What?”

“Nothing…” said Hermione.

“No really, tell me.”

“It's your fault that you can't find your quill.”

“How do you mean?”

Hermione was quiet for a moment but Harry knew exactly what she was about to say.

“You left everything on the table last night before you went off to bed. You didn't even
bother to clean up! Think of all the extra work you put the house elves through! It's not like
they don't have enough to do already,” said Hermione, already sounding exasperated.

“Hermione, could you pass me that extra knife?” asked Harry.

“Sure, Harry,” said Hermione and gave him a smile and the knife, then turned back to Ron,
“*You* need to take better care of your things, Ron. If you don't, you're going to
loose everything you own and then you're going to blame me for not reminding you to clean up
after yourself.”

“I won't loose *everything*. I'm not that disorganized -”

“Yes you are, Ron, and you know it.”

“Harry, am I disorganized?” Ron asked Harry, hoping that somebody would be on his side. Harry
didn't really want to get involved. He'd rather stay quiet and eat his breakfast in
peace.

But, on the other hand, Hermione was right. Ron was pretty disorganized. He always left all of
his clothes out, crumpled on the ground all over the dormitory. His robes were always wrinkled and
he was constantly asking Harry for parchment and quills because he had lost his own.

“Well… you are a bit disorganized…” began Harry, but upon seeing Ron's defeated look he
added quickly, “But not so much that you'd loose everything.”

“At least Harry's honest,” said Hermione, nodding at Harry. Harry smiled sheepishly as Ron
gave him a quick glare.

“Fine, side with Hermione, Harry. I don't care,” said Ron, frowning.

“Come now, Ron. He wasn't insulting you, he was being honest. And, honestly, you should be
honest too.”

“You just said `honest' three times,” remarked Harry.

“Did I?” asked Hermione, forgetting about Ron and giggling, “I guess you could call that
parallel structure?”

“Erm - sure,” said Harry. Hermione was acting oddly; she was having constant mood swings.
She'd be scolding Ron one minute, then giggling at him the next. What was up with her?

“Ron! Are you still listening to me?” asked Hermione sharply.

“Not particularly, no.”

“So rude…” Hermione mumbled under her breath and, Harry assumed, only he had caught that little
insult because Ron didn't react at all.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Hermione, could you hold my quill for a second?” asked Ron as the trio walked back up to the
common room after dinner.

“No,” answered Hermione, not even sparing him a glance.

“Thanks, Harry,” said Ron, rudely shoving the quill at Harry without even asking.

“Erm, no problem,” said Harry.

They continued to walk down the corridors and staircases in silence, Harry standing between Ron
and Hermione. They had just climbed the last staircase when something sprung into Harry's
mind.

“Hermione, do you think I should get contacts?” It was random, yes, but Harry had come to know
that glasses weren't exactly “in” anymore.

Hermione didn't answer. Harry looked around behind him.

“Hermione?”

Hermione wasn't there.

“Ron, where's Hermione?” asked Harry, getting worried.

“Oh, she's gone? I hadn't noticed,” answered Ron.

“Ron, I'm serious. Did you hear her leave?”

“No.”

Then, suddenly, they heard hurried footsteps from in front of them. Harry turned back around to
see Hermione running towards him seeming oddly out of breath.

“Sorry,” she panted.

“Hermione, where were you?” asked Harry.

“What? Where was I? I was… over there,” said Hermione, gesturing down the corridor.

“How did you get over there when you were walking with us just a moment ago?”

“Um… I don't know. How am I supposed to know? Shortcut? It doesn't matter,” said
Hermione rudely.

Harry looked more closely at Hermione. There was a strange glazed look about her eyes.

“What are *you* looking at?” asked Hermione, pushing Harry away.

Harry stepped back away from Hermione, alarmed. She had never acted like this to him before.
She'd been being so nice to him this morning, so why start now?

“Hermione, are you okay? Is something wrong?” asked Harry.

Ron seemed to have cottoned on to the subject at hand, also noticing Hermione's strange
character. But he wasn't exactly being helpful. All he had done so far was look up from the
ground and stare at Harry and Hermione.

“Nothing's wrong. It wouldn't be any of your business anyway,” snarled Hermione, getting
meaner by the minute.

“You've just made it my business,” said Harry, “Why are you acting like this?”

“No, I think the question is: why are *you* acting so touchy? Just because I don't want
to tell you something doesn't give you permission to force it out of me.”

Hermione's eyes had turned from glazed looking to fiery. There was what looked like a long
time contained anger shining in them. Harry didn't like it at all, not one bit.

“Well, if you're just going to rudely stare at me like that then I might as well leave. See
you, Ron,” said Hermione and marched away in the opposite direction of the common room.

Harry was speechless. He looked at Ron who also looked like he was at a loss for words. He
shrugged and shook his head.

“Maybe it's just, you know, *that time of the month*,” said Ron.

Harry nodded and he and Ron walked back toward the Gryffindor tower again in silence.

Harry didn't think Ron was right, though. Hermione had never acted like that before and
surely she'd have gone through this “month thing” before. But what was worrying him the most
were Hermione's eyes. They had never looked so… evil and fiery before and never a rude word had
ever been directed towards him from her. This was all strange.

Very strange…

-->



2. Chapter 2
------------



**Title:** Another Way to Die

**Summary:** One day, Hermione starts acting very strange. Suddenly she begins to fancy
Malfoy, enjoys skipping around the Great Hall, is being abnormally polite to Ron, is skipping
classes, and absolutely hates Harry Potter. What the bloody hell is going on here?

**Rating:** PG (for later romance, rating may rise *hint hint*)

**A/N****:** Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I wasn't expected any reviews
at all because I've never written anything here before - but I got a few very nice and positive
reviews. Thanks so much guys, I really appreciate it.

Now for Chapter Two (and this is where the summary came from, if you were wondering).

**Chapter Two --**

Ron watched as Harry frantically paced the common room.

“Harry, *calm down*!” said Ron who was beginning to get dizzy.

Harry stopped and turned towards Ron, “I can't! Hermione's been gone for two and a half
hours since that little - uh - thing in the corridor!”

“Harry, I'm sure it was noth-”

“It wasn't nothing!” yelled Harry for what felt the millionth time. Ron was honestly trying
his best to comfort Harry but Harry wasn't going to give in. He was just a little too paranoid
at the moment.

“Well…” said Ron, the sound of defeat in his voice, “I'm tried. I'm going to bed. Do me
a favor and please don't stay up all night brooding about this.”

Harry didn't answer and resumed pacing. Ron shook his head disbelievingly and left up to the
boys' dormitories.

Ten minutes passed… twenty… thirty. No Hermione. Harry's legs had tired out and he was
sitting in an armchair by the fire drumming his fingers impatiently on a table. Where was she and
what was up with her? Why had she been acting so strangely? Harry couldn't answer either of
these questions at the moment so he just sat. And sat… and sat.

Finally, Harry heard the sound of the portrait hole creaking open. The dim firelight cast a
shadow across the face of the figure that had crept into the room. The figure, Harry couldn't
tell who it was, crept slowly over towards the staircase leading up to the dormitories. The figure
hadn't yet seen Harry.

The figure took another step and his - or rather her - face shone out of the shadows. It was
Hermione.

“Hermione!” exclaimed Harry pouncing out of his chair and dashing over to her.

Hermione jumped about a foot into the air, and, breathing quickly, rolled her eyes, “Oh,
it's just *you* again. Go away.”

Harry was ready for this reaction.

“No, not until you tell me what's going on.”

“None of your business,” said Hermione and she began to walk towards the staircase again.

“As I've already told you, it is my business.”

“Why do you even care? It's not like you've ever cared about me before,” said Hermione
glaring at Harry.

Harry was greatly surprised by this, “What do you mean? Of course I care about you. You're
my best friend! I would never let anything happen to you.”

Something flickered in Hermione's eyes but then they suddenly reverted back to their
original fiery state.

“Really… is that so?”

“Yes,” said Harry truthfully.

“Well, then you must be lying.”

Hermione crossed her arms against her chest and stared at Harry who stared defiantly back.

“You know I would never lie to you. What are you on about?”

“Ugh, you're so clueless Harry. Isn't it obvious?” asked Hermione.

“No,” said Harry, it certainly was not obvious to him at all.

“If you can't figure it out then there's no reason why I should tell you,” said Hermione
and looked away from him.

“Are you hiding something from me?” asked Harry.

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

“You're lying. I know how you sound when you lie,” said Harry and this was true. Hermione
never made eye contact when she was lying, she always played with her hair and shuffled her feet,
and her voice was always lower than usual.

“Well you don't have to be so rude about it!”

And with that, and a “humph”, she left and darted up the spiral staircase before Harry could
stop her.

Harry stood, again alone, in the middle of the common room and looked up at the ceiling. He gave
an exasperated sigh.

“*Why* are you doing this to me, Hermione?”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

All that week Hermione continued to be very bossy and rude to everyone around her, especially
Harry. She was overly polite with Ron - but only to anger Harry when he was around - and never had
rows with him. This surprised Ron and he finally admitted that there was definitely something wrong
with Hermione.

At breakfast one morning, when Hermione was being particularly grumpy, Harry wanted to test out
some things. Over the last week he had been thinking over all the reasons as to why Hermione would
be acting so differently. One of the explanations he had come up with was that the Hermione who was
following him around now was not the Hermione who he had met on the train first year.

Harry knew this sounded stupid but there really wasn't any other reason. Harry had narrowed
it down to two reasons: either someone was making Hermione act like this by force (Harry seriously
doubted this because Hermione was so stubborn), or it wasn't the real Hermione.

“Hermione?” asked Harry.

“What,” she said, as if it was more of a command to be quiet than a question.

“You remember how me and you went down into the Chamber of Secrets second year?”

Ron looked at Harry and was about to correct him, but Harry shook his head.

Hermione looked up at Harry and narrowed her eyes but didn't say anything yet.

“Don't you remember?” asked Harry.

“No… I was petrified you git,” she snarled.

“What about how I had to save you during the second task fourth year?” he tried again.

“It was that Krum person who had to save me but you, being the idiot hero you are, tried to save
me too. But, thankfully, Krum came to my rescue. You would've gotten me killed.”

Harry was beginning to get discouraged; maybe this really was Hermione… but just a terrible new
version of her. He wasn't going to give up yet, though. What did only Hermione know?

“Remember how you had a massive course schedule during third year?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, me and Ron are *still* curious as to how you got to all your classes.”

Ron finally seemed to catch on.

“Yeah, how did you manage to be in two places at once?” Ron asked.

Hermione looked from Ron to Harry and back again and narrowed her eyes even more.

“Why would I even tell you? It's obviously a private secret of mine so just shut it.”

Harry's eyes widened and Ron dropped his spoon. Even though Ron hadn't actually helped
Harry and Hermione rescue Sirius, they had told him about it when they had returned. Harry looked
at Ron and they knew something funny was going on.

“Hermione?” asked Ron.

“WHAT!” she yelled, putting her fork down with a bang.

Ron and Harry both jumped but quickly recovered themselves.

“You reckon we could have a little - er - *chat* with you for a bit?” asked Ron.

Hermione glared at him suspiciously. “I have much better things to do than `chat' with you
two,” she said picking up her bag, “See you at lunch.”

“What about classes?” asked Harry.

Hermione didn't answer but instead left the Great Hall in a huff.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hermione didn't show up at their morning classes and this worried Harry so much that he
couldn't concentrate on anything else but Hermione. Hermione would never miss a class - even if
it was a life or death situation. Someone had done something to Hermione and he didn't know
what it was.

On the way back to the Great Hall, Harry and Ron were trying to figure out what was going
on.

“Well, it's obvious that someone has put some kind of curse on her…” muttered Ron.

“Or maybe it's a polyjuice potion? You know, what Professor Moody - I mean, Crouch -
did?”

“Possibly… possibly…”

“Whoever it is, they know a lot about Hermione,” said Harry.

“Yeah.”

“But not everything… they didn't know about the Time Turner. I don't think most people
know about that anyway. It's probably only you, me, Hermione, Professor McGonagall and
Dumbledore. Right?”

“Right,” said Ron who was in deep thought.

They both stayed quiet for a while, thinking. Finally, Harry spoke again.

“You think… you think Hermione's under the Imperius Curse?”

“Do you think that's possible?”

“Anything's possible.”

“True.”

They continued walking; they had almost arrived at the Great Hall.

“Well, if anyone would be using the Imperius Curse, it would be Voldemort.”

Ron winced slightly.

“Oh, come on Ron. Can't you say his name yet?”

Ron shook his head. “I've tried, Harry, but I just can't. I don't know how Hermione
does it… or anyone else for that matter!”

“It's not that hard, it's just a name,” said Harry, and this was true. Voldemort was
just a name, just any ordinary word.

They walked into the Great Hall and Harry automatically looked around for Hermione. She
wasn't at their usual spot. Instead, she was talking animatedly with Ginny.

“Hey, why's she being so nice to Ginny?” asked Ron, spotting her too.

“No idea. Let's go find out.”

Ron and Harry approached Ginny and Hermione and sat across from them. Hermione seemingly
didn't notice them.

“Hi, Gin,” said Ron, reaching for his fork. Ginny smiled and waved. Hermione didn't stop
talking.

“And then, like, he *totally* dropped his quill and I, like, picked it up for him!”
Hermione was saying.

Harry stared, *What the hell?*

He looked at Ginny and Ginny shrugged and rolled her eyes. Hermione kept talking.

“I mean, seriously, he has the most adorable eyes! You've totally got to see him!”

Ron was staring, his hand dangling idly above his fork and his mouth hanging open. The same
thought was going through his mind: What the hell?

“Hi, Hermione,” tried Harry. Hermione continued to talk.

“His hair is such a great color, too. It's blond, but almost silver, and his eyes are a
dreamy grey…” said Hermione and she trailed off into a dreamy state.

This description reminded Harry of someone… someone evil. Someone who Hermione would
*never* describe as “dreamy”.

“So who is this `special' boy you fancy?” asked Ginny sarcastically.

Hermione signed, her head tilted to the side, “Draco Malfoy.”

“WHAT!” yelled Ron. Hermione seemed to snap back to reality.

“I hadn't meant for you two prats to listen in on my private conversations! These are
personal girl matters,” said Hermione.

“But-” began Ron.

“I don't want your opinion.”

“Malfoy? But he's - he's - he's Malfoy!” stuttered Ron as if this were a perfectly
reasonable explanation.

Harry was speechless. Completely speechless. He hadn't touched his food and he was staring
directly at Hermione. Fancying Malfoy was about as far out of character Hermione could get. Unless,
of course, she decided that she didn't want to do her homework for once.

“But what about Krum?” asked Harry after he found his voice.

“Who?” asked Hermione.

“Viktor Krum,” reminded Harry.

“You know, your boyfriend, *Vicky*,” said Ron, sniggering.

“Oh, that famous git,” said Hermione, rolling her eyes, “He's so ugly. But Draco on the
other hand…”

“I don't want to hear it! I really don't want to hear it!” said Ron, covering his ears
with his hands.

Ginny hadn't said anything since she asked for a name.

“D - Draco?” she asked.

“Yes, isn't he just the best?”

“Um… sure… but-”

“Oh, you mean that talk we had last night? Well, Draco is totally mine,” said Hermione.

“But you promised-”

“I lied,” said Hermione snidely, “I must be going. I'm going to drop by the dormitory to put
on some make up so I can flirt properly with Draco later.”

Harry, Ron, and Ginny watched in horror as Hermione took a detour to stride past the Slytherin
table. Just as she was passing Draco and his friends, she lifted her nose up high, batted her
eyelashes in his direction, flipped her hair, and skipped away out of the room. Draco looked
disgusted and highly disturbed.

“Is Hermione… *skipping*?” asked Ginny.

“I think she is,” said Harry.

“There is definitely something weird going on here,” said Ron.

“Agreed,” said Ginny and Harry at the same time.

-->



3. Chapter 3
------------



**Title:** Another Way to Die

**Summary:** One day, Hermione starts acting very strange. Suddenly she begins to fancy
Malfoy, enjoys skipping around the Great Hall, is being abnormally polite to Ron, is skipping
classes, and absolutely hates Harry Potter. What the bloody hell is going on here?

**Rating:** PG-13 (it finally went up, what must that mean? *wink*)

**A/N:** It was pointed out to me that I made a mistake in the last chapter. I said that
Harry had saved Hermione during the second task when he actually didn't. I'm really sorry!
I think I was thinking of Ron instead. I didn't notice the mistake when I was editing. I'm
really sorry and I'll try not to let it happen again!

Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed! I'm really glad that you're enjoying my story.
The next chapter will be the last chapter. So, you can just wait patiently for that.

Another note: This was probably the most difficult chapter for me to write because I have no -
um - *experience* in what I'm writing about here *hint hint*. It's sad, I know, but
I'm still young, I have time!

**Chapter Three** **-**

Harry was slowly pacing through a deserted forest, thousands of crickets chirping around him.
There was a new moon above his head and the sky was a deep, solid black.

He walked slowly forward, his mind devoid of thoughts. It was a sensation that he rarely got to
endure. He had no worries, nothing to think about. It was wonderful. Wherever he was going, he
didn't want to get there any time soon.

“Just a bit further,” said a familiar woman's voice from inside his head. He followed his
feet with no thought in his head, his eyes blank and staring forward.

But then suddenly, another voice in his head, his voice, asked, “Why I am walking forward?
I'm not wearing shoes.”

“Just a little bit further,” the woman repeated.

Harry was beginning to feel the sharp twigs and the leaves crunching beneath his feet. “But I
don't want to walk anymore.”

“We're almost there,” said the woman, firmer this time.

Harry was beginning to slow down. He didn't feel like walking anymore. His feet were tired,
what was the point?

“Keep going!” the voice commanded.

“No!” he heard the voice in his head yell.

“Walk! Now!” the woman was yelling.

“NO!” Harry roared and quickly sat up in his bed, tangled in his sheets. He was breathing
heavily and his face was covered in sweat.

He heard movement from his side and saw Neville's groggy face peeking out between his
hangings, “What's up, `Arry?” he asked thickly.

“Nothing,” said Harry and Neville fell back onto his pillow and began to snore.

Harry tried to remember his dream. There was a woman and a forest and the woman was commanding
him to do things. But he didn't want to do them because his feet hurt. Why was the woman inside
his head? Why did she want him to keep going? Why didn't she allow him to go get his shoes to
make things easier?

Harry thought over the commands in his head; they had to mean something. His dreams always ended
up meaning something eventually. No thoughts. His mind was blank. Commands.

The Imperius Curse. Of course.

But what did it mean? He thought back on his conversation with Ron the day before, preceding
lunch.

*“You think… you think Hermione's under the Imperius Curse?”*

*“Do you think that's possible?”*

*“Anything's possible.”*

Anything was possible… Somebody was controlling Hermione's mind; Harry was sure of it. But
who?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry needed to talk to Ron. He needed to tell him about Hermione. He couldn't talk to him
during breakfast because Hermione was right there and she was being very nosy; so, he waited very
impatiently until Charms that morning where she wouldn't over hear them.

Hermione, like she always did, left them upon arriving at the classroom and went off to sit with
someone else. Today, she went over to the other side of the room to sit with Lavender and Parvati.
They didn't seem very excited to let her sit with them but after seeing the giddy smile on her
face and after she whispered something into Lavender's ear, she was gladly welcomed.

Harry watched her sit down and start talking very quickly and excitedly. Ron rolled his
eyes.

“Let me guess, she's talking about Malfoy. That's just disgusting,” said Ron.

Harry didn't say anything. Who knew about Hermione's past but not her personality?
Whoever had her under the curse knew about the adventures she'd gone on with Harry and Ron but
not about how she usually acted around her friends. They obviously thought that she was just like
Lavender and Parvati: gossipy, hyper, and boy-crazy. Hermione was none of those three things.

Ron sensed that Harry was watching and thinking about Hermione.

“Just from watching you paying so much attention to Hermione, I could almost guess that you
fancied her,” said Ron, sniggering quietly.

This pulled Harry out of his reverie, “What? No. No way.”

“Then why are you always watching her?”

“So I can find out what's wrong with her, of course.”

Ron nodded his head but Harry didn't notice how he watched Harry with a disbelieving
expression.

“It's the Imperius Curse,” said Harry after he and Ron had taken their seat a back table in
the corner of the classroom.

“You're sure?” asked Ron.

“Yes, I'm positive. She has all the signs of it. I just know it. It has to be.”

“Well… what should we do about it?”

“I have no idea,” said Harry worriedly, staring across the room at Hermione, “no idea at
all.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

That night, Harry stayed up past the time when Ron and the rest of Gryffindors had gone up to
bed. Ron was a bit hesitant about leaving Harry alone with Hermione but Harry had insisted.
Hermione was out late again.

Harry was sitting in a big armchair near the fire waiting for her while flipping through a very
heavy book on the effects of the Imperius Curse and how to tell when someone is under it.

Harry's eyes were beginning to droop just when he heard movement from the spiral staircase.
He quickly turned around and saw Crookshanks creeping around in the shadows. Upon seeing Harry, he
meowed and rubbed against Harry's legs.

“Do you think something's wrong with Hermione?” Harry asked the cat.

Crookshanks gave a low meow, almost a growl, in response.

“Yeah, I agree. I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with her. If only she'd -”

“Why, good evening, Mr. Potter,” came Hermione's voice from behind him. Harry jumped out of
his chair and turned to face Hermione.

“Hello, Hermione,” said Harry.

“Why are we up so late tonight?” she asked.

“I was waiting for you to come back.”

“Again? I don't see why you're so worried about me,” said Hermione, stepping closer to
him, “I'm perfectly fine.”

Harry looked into Hermione's eyes. He had just read that one of the effects of the curse was
that the victim's eyes become glazed over and blank. Harry saw, instead of a blank expression,
a fiery state but, after looking closer, he saw that behind the fire was nothing, blankness and
emptiness.

“Don't stare, Harry. It's very rude,” scolded Hermione.

“Who are you?” asked Harry.

“I'm Hermione Granger. Who are you?” asked Hermione, extending her hand sarcastically.

Harry said nothing and did not touch Hermione's hand.

“I asked,” Hermione repeated, “who *are* you?”

“Harry Potter,” said Harry playing along. He reached out for Hermione's hand, with his
right, and shook it.

Hermione didn't let go of Harry after they had shook hands. Harry did not like Hermione
holding his hand like this; it was his right arm that she was restraining, his wand arm.

Hermione lifted her left hand to Harry's forehead, still forcefully gripping his hand, and
brushed his fringe away from his scar.

“Harry Potter,” she repeated slowly and quietly. Harry moved away from Hermione but she still
kept a grip on his hand. “Oh, no, no, no, you're not going anywhere.”

“Who are you and why are you doing this to Hermione?” Harry asked quietly, leaning away from
Hermione.

“I am Hermione Granger, Harry Potter. I've already told you.”

“No, you're not. I know -”

“*Petrificus Totalus**!*” Hermione yelled, holding her wand in her left hand. She
released Harry's right as his arms and legs snapped together and he fell backward and hit the
armchair behind him. He was leaning, stiff as a board, against the chair, defenseless. This was
surely another way to die - being defenseless was another way to die.

Whoever was controlling Hermione was left handed, Harry thought fleetingly. They had told
Hermione to use her left hand.

“Well, Harry Potter, I've got you now. I've got you right under the nose of Dumbledore…
right under his nose.” She stood in front of him, hands on her hips, tapping her foot on the
ground.

Harry glared at her. If there was one thing he hated, it was not being able to fight back. He
wished somebody would come downstairs and see him.

*Come on, Hermione, fight the curse! Fight it, please,* thought Harry desperately. He knew
it was possible, but he didn't know if Hermione was capable of it.

Hermione reached into her robes and pulled out a small, glass vile filled with a clear liquid.
She shook it very close to Harry's face.

“Do you know what this is?” she asked, smiling crudely, “It's Veritaserum. I can make you
tell me whatever I want to know. I can even make you tell me about the headquarters of the
Order.”

Harry's eyes widened.

“Yes, I know about the Order and I could make you tell me all their plans against the Dark Lord.
I could make you tell me *everything*, even your deepest, darkest secrets.”

She uncorked the vile and pried Harry's mouth open. She dropped three drops down Harry's
throat and forced him to swallow.

“Fight it, Hermione! Fight!” Harry was able to yell before his mind was immediately devoid of
thought.

“Can you hear me?” asked Hermione.

“Yes,” said Harry automatically.

“Now… where are the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix.”

“I can't tell you,” replied Harry, surprising himself.

“What?” asked Hermione, bewildered, “Why can't you tell me?”

“You must ask the Secret Keeper,” responded Harry flatly.

“And who is this Secret Keeper?” asked Hermione.

“Albus Dumbledore.”

“Damn,” said Hermione in a frustrated voice. She began to pace in front of Harry, scratching her
head, trying to think of the next question. Harry continued to stare blankly ahead, with no worry
or thought in his mind. He was completely relaxed. It was as if his body had been deserted and all
that was left was his flesh.

The effects of the full body bind were starting to wear off and Harry was slowly sliding to the
ground. Hermione wasn't watching him and Harry didn't really realize it himself. Even if he
had, there was nothing he could do about it. Suddenly, the charm wore off fully and with a “thud”
Harry hit the floor.

Hermione turned her attention back to Harry, “Oops.”

She pushed him up against the chair so he was sitting in an upright position and continued to
pace in front of him. She was wasting time, she knew it, and the effects of the Veritaserum would
soon vanish as well. She had to think fast.

“Did you love Sirius Black?” she asked.

“Yes,” replied Harry. On a regular basis, if someone had asked that, he would most likely have
lost his temper with them.

“So everyone you truly loved is dead…” said Hermione thoughtfully.

“No.”

A wide smile broke across Hermione's face, giving her a startlingly evil look. She sat down
in front of Harry on her knees.

“Ah… lovely. If we kill who you love, we may be able to touch a nerve. Who is it that you love,
Harry Potter?”

“Hermione Granger.”

Hermione started breathing very quickly and heavily. Her left hand was shaking as if it wanted
to reach for her wand but she wasn't letting it. A small part of Harry's still conscious
brain thought, *She's fighting it!* Her left hand continued to shake; she grasped it with
her right hand, holding it steady. Then she relaxed, the blankness in her eyes vanishing.

“Harry…” she whispered. Then, after releasing her own hand, she began to fumble with something
inside her cloak. She pulled out a small, clear vile with a blue liquid it in. She quickly tipped
it down Harry's throat and he instantly regained control of his mind.

“Harry,” she whispered again.

“It's you, it's really you,” said Harry framing her face with her hands before pulling
her into a tight hug. They sat like that, neither knowing exactly what to do.

There were so many questions swimming around in Harry's mind: Who had been doing the curse?
Was Hermione hurt? Was she in any trouble? Was she going to be okay? But instead, he stayed quiet;
enjoying the moment.

“Harry,” she said, breaking away from him, “I don't know if you remember - but before… when
you were under the influence of the Veritaserum, you said - you said that you loved me.”

Harry thought for a moment. No, he couldn't remember saying that but he must have meant it.
One can only speak the truth after they drink Veritaserum, so it must have been true.

But what was love? Harry had never known love. He must have loved his parents… and Sirius, of
course. But did he love Hermione? After almost six years of companionship, he didn't know if he
loved her. Yes, he would do anything for her, he would die for her. Was that love? If it
wasn't, then he didn't know what was.

“I think I do love you, Hermione,” said Harry confidently. It was all clicking into place. After
all those years, it had taken him almost six to notice? *How stupid,* he thought.

“I - I don't know what to say,” stammered Hermione, blushing, “But I think I love you,
too.”

Harry cupped her chin with his hand and pulled her to him and kissed her. Suddenly, he felt
complete. This intimate contact with Hermione made him feel as if the world had stopped turning.
The feel of her lips against his was an almost mind blowing experience. Could it get any
better?

Hermione's hands were in Harry's hair, mussing it up more than it already was (and
always was), as she attempted to get closer and closer to him until they were just a tangle of
limbs. She just couldn't seem to get close enough. This was the most wonderful feeling in the
world, it was just - just *right*.

Harry, who barely had any kissing experience, was, surprisingly, not nervous or hesitant at all.
Somehow, he knew exactly what to do, where to put his hands and how far he wanted to go. Hermione
helped him to become more confident. And this, he was. He slowly slid his tongue against
Hermione's closed lips, asking for entrance. She immediately granted that to him.

Hermione groaned into Harry's mouth as their tongues touched and she could taste him. They
explored each other; Harry's hand slowly finding its way under Hermione's blouse as
Hermione desperately tugged at his hair. Her other hand was grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. If
Harry had to die tomorrow, he would want to die in Hermione's arms, the last thing he would
want to taste would be her. He would then die happy.

Neither of them wanted the kiss to end, but they were both in desperate need of oxygen. Hermione
was the first to pull away, gasping for air as Harry did the same. After both of their breathing
had become normal again, Harry looked up at Hermione.

“Wow,” he whispered.

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4. Chapter 4
------------



**Title:** Another Way to Die

**Summary:** One day, Hermione starts acting very strange. Suddenly she begins to fancy
Malfoy, enjoys skipping around the Great Hall, is being abnormally polite to Ron, is skipping
classes, and absolutely hates Harry Potter. What the bloody hell is going on here?

**Rating:** PG-13

**A/N:** Again, I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed; it really helps me to keep
writing. This is the last chapter of the story and I feel very satisfied with the ending. I may
write a pure fluff fic later illustrating what happens in the time gap I leave at the end.
We'll see.

But before you read, and I know I'm being repetitive, I'd like to thank you, the
reviewer, and all my readers for being so kind and positive about this story. This is my first ever
story on Portkey and I've had so much fun writing it. Thank you so much to everyone who has
supported me in some way. I hope you have enjoyed the story and thank you so much for reading.

**Chapter Four --**

Neither of them wanted the kiss to end, but they were both in desperate need of oxygen. Hermione
was the first to pull away, gasping for air as Harry did the same. After both of their breathing
patterns had become normal again, Harry looked up at Hermione.

“Wow,” he whispered.

“Yeah…” said Hermione, smiling shyly.

There was an awkwardly comfortable silence - which didn't make sense to either of the two.
Neither of them knew what to say, what had happened, if it was okay, and if their friendship was
ruined. Hermione broke the silence.

“Thank you, Harry,” she said, softly, “for saving me.”

“From what?”

“From Bellatrix,” she snarled.

“From - from who?” Harry repeated.

“That evil woman, I don't know what she was thinking if she thought that she had complete
control over me. There is no possible way that I would *ever* hurt you… She must've been
crazy to think that she could use someone like *me*,” Hermione rambled on.

“It was Bellatrix Lestrange? The person who - who -”

Harry stopped. Hermione used to try and make Harry talk about Sirius's death; she thought
that it made him feel better and that it would ease his pain. But, actually, it was the opposite
for Harry. He did not want to talk about his loss and instead, he tried to muse about it and admit
it to himself on his own that Sirius was gone.

Hermione knew what Harry was trying to say even though he said nothing at all. She knew what it
meant when she saw the sadness in his eyes and the dark shadows that blanketed over the startling
green of them all too well. She loved his eyes; she loved them even more when they were looking
directly at her. But when she saw his eyes so dark, so depressed, it just made her want to take all
the pain he was suffering from and make herself suffer instead. She'd do anything to make him
happy. He didn't deserve any of pain and despair that he was wallowing in.

Harry straightened up and lifted his head, attempting to be strong. He *could* talk about
it, and he *would*.

“She's the woman who killed Sirius,” he said flatly.

Hermione nodded, “Yes.”

Harry thought for a moment. “If only I had killed her before… then none of this would've
happened. It's all my fault.”

“No, it's not, Harry, and you know it.”

“But it is! Really, if only I'd -”

“You need to stop taking the blame for everything…”

“But what if everything really is my fault!” Harry yelled, turning on Hermione, “What if it all
is? Maybe you're wrong! You know, it is possible for you to be wrong.”

Hermione didn't shrink away from him; she wasn't afraid of Harry.

“Harry, no,” she said patiently, “I know this isn't your fault. It's just a coincidence.
Bellatrix wanted information and she decided to use me to get it. This has nothing to do with
you.”

“If I wasn't your friend then she wouldn't even care about you. If it wasn't for me,
then you'd be safe,” he said slowly and then quietly, “If it wasn't for me, then you
wouldn't have almost died in the Department of Mysteries that night.”

Harry and Hermione stayed quiet for a moment, both staring at the ground.

“Let's not talk about that now,” said Hermione softly. Harry nodded.

“But it's relevant…” he mumbled.

“Harry…” Hermione warned.

“Ok, fine, but let's talk about you. What happened?”

“I don't know how she was able to, but she did it…” began Hermione.

She went on to explain how Bellatrix had somehow gotten inside Hogwarts and found her while she
was walking down a corridor with Harry and Ron. She had stolen Moody's invisibility cloak and
had used that to silently take Hermione away without anyone hearing or noticing. She dragged
Hermione into a distant corner and put the Imperius curse on her.

“That evil woman…” interrupted Harry.

“I know. And she didn't even make me act like myself!”

“So stupid,” said Harry, “She obviously doesn't know you as well as I do.”

Hermione smiled, “So true. She made me act like some kind of weird, boy-crazy girl. You
must've noticed that something was wrong by then. Or at least, I hope you did.”

“My suspicions were confirmed when you started flirting with Malfoy.”

Hermione grimaced, “I think that was by *far* the worst part of these past few days. Did
you see his face?”

“He didn't know what hit him,” said Harry, remembering the terrified look on Malfoy's
face.

“But, anyway… the only times when I felt like I was almost fighting the curse were the times
when I was around you.”

“What did I do?” asked Harry.

“I don't know… you were just being… you. And I guess I subconsciously cared about you so
much that I didn't want to hurt you. When you said that you loved me, I was able to break the
curse. It was just pure emotional power, I think.”

“It's true, though. I do love you.”

“I know, and I love you too.”

Harry kissed Hermione lightly on the cheek.

“So, what should we do now?” asked Harry.

“About what?”

“About us. What are we?”

“I don't know… Well, we're still friends. But… we're more than that.”

“Right,” said Harry, and then a thought occurred to him, “What about Ron?”

“Let's tell him tomorrow,” said Hermione and Harry agreed.

“I just hope that he doesn't overreact…” said Hermione thoughtfully.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Ron stood, mouth half-open, ink spilled and dripping onto the floor, quill abandoned and
speechless.

Harry had expected this.

“You're what?” asked Ron in an almost whisper.

“Ron, that line is so cliché,” said Hermione, and Harry chuckled.

“But - but…” stuttered Ron.

“Yes?” asked Hermione.

“You - you just can't!” said Ron in a stronger voice.

“And why would that be?” asked Harry - maybe he wasn't as prepared at he thought he was.

“You'll ruin everything! You'll take over everything! You'll take him away from me,”
said Ron, directing this all at a very taken aback Hermione.

“That's not true at all, Ron! You know that,” reassured Hermione.

“No, I don't think I do. Harry, you're not going to fancy her forever, right? It's
just temporary, right mate?” Ron was desperate; he was groping at thin air for a reason to support
his argument. He was loosing badly, very badly.

“Well…” Harry thought for a moment. Was this just a “temporary fancy”? “No, I don't think
this is going to be temporary,” he reached for Hermione's hand, Ron grimaced. “I think… I think
we're in love.”

Ron watched as Harry and Hermione had a “moment”. They just gazed into each other's eyes,
just reveling in each other's stare.

And then it clicked.

“Oh,” said Ron slowly, “Ohhh.”

Harry and Hermione returned to Earth and Harry blushed. He had totally forgotten that Ron was
even there.

“Oh!” said Ron, getting excited. A smile began to form on his face.

Harry was confused. Hermione was even more confused than Harry. Ron knew something and he
wasn't explaining.

“Ha!” said Ron, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, pointing a bouncing finger at Harry
and Hermione.

“Huh?” said Harry dumbly.

“Sorry?” asked Hermione, just as dumbly.

The intelligent half of Harry's brain fleetingly thought, *Hermione, dumb? Wow.*

“Well, it's about time!” said Ron with a huge grin on his face.

“Is this some kind of joke?” asked Harry.

“No! Really, I'm serious! It's about time!”

“*What*, Ron, is so timely?” asked Hermione, still confused.

“You! You two, being together. It should've happened *years* ago. Really, didn't
you even consider that?” asked Ron. He was feeling extremely smart right now.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” asked Harry, “We were just friends before; this
only happened recently! I never would've -”

“But that's the thing! You're just so *clueless* that you never would've
figured it out! It took a punch in your face, some Unforgiveables and a bit of Veritaserum and -
voila! Big realization of love!”

“You sound like a chef,” said Harry flabbergasted.

“And you need to *calm down*,” said Hermione, “I honestly had no idea that this was going
to make you all hyper. I thought you'd yell at us or swear to not speak to us for a month… but
this! What are you *talking* about?”

“Don't you get it? Isn't it obvious?” asked Ron.

“Isn't *what* obvious?” asked Harry, clueless as ever.

“You're so stupid!” said Ron, raising his hands to the ceiling in frustration.

“Excuse me but I don't think I'm the stupid one, here. I think that you're the one
who's got some explaining to do,” said Hermione.

Ron closed his eyes for a moment and took a few deep breaths.

“Ok,” he said, “Look. I bet that everyone in this big Gryffindor tower knew at some point that
you two were going to get together at some point.”

“You're not serious,” said Harry.

“If this is a joke, then it isn't funny,” argued Hermione.

“I swear this isn't a joke! No, really, ask anyone. I bet at least one person made a bet.
Come to think of it, I should've made a bet…”

And then Harry understood. No wonder he and Hermione felt so comfortable together. No wonder
taking their relationship to “the next level” didn't affect their friendship at all. No wonder
it all felt so… right.

“Interesting,” said Hermione thoughtfully, “Very interesting…”

“About time you got it,” said Ron.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

By the next day, if someone didn't know about Harry and Hermione's new relationship,
then they must've been living under a rock somewhere in a very remote part of the Earth.

Rumors fly fast at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but this juicy piece of news made
breakneck speed around the school. It could've been a new record. Every student, no matter what
year or gender, knew about it. Even Rita Skeeter had somehow found out and had written a whole five
page long exclusive article on the secrets of Harry and Hermione's love titled “I Told You
So”.

The only problem was, everyone seemed to have forgotten about any type of fiasco with Bellatrix
Lestrange and an Unforgivable Curse. It all went unnoticed and this bothered Harry.

What if this attack was another small sign of the soon approaching rein of Voldemort? Was this
supposed to be some kind of threat or warning? Harry had told this all to Dumbledore who, after
congratulating Harry on finally noticing what he had with Hermione, told him not to worry and that
everything was going to be okay. Fudge, the insufferable minister, continued to ignore
Dumbledore's warnings of the return of Voldemort. It was all “codswallop” and the
*Prophet* made Dumbledore look like a madman. Nobody, except for his faithful students and
those in the Order, trusted or believed anything important Dumbledore had to say. And, it turned
out, almost everything he said came out to be important at some point or other.

The rest of the school year went by like a flash of lightning. One second it was October and
Harry gave Hermione a special pumpkin-flavored Halloween kiss and then suddenly, it was Christmas
and there were plenty of romantic snowball fights. A few Hogsmead dates, goodnight kisses, and
private talks in the common room by the fire at night later, it was June and exams were long gone.
It was time to go home.

Both Harry and the entirety of the Order were afraid that Voldemort was busy planning something
destructive in all this down time. He couldn't have been just sitting around doing nothing.
That wouldn't make any sense. Whatever he was planning, they were ready. They would take all
the blows as they came.

Harry knew now, though, that whatever happened - whatever troubles or misfortunes he met on the
way - Hermione would always be there for him. Ron and the Order would always be behind him; backing
him up and preparing him for the final battle. He was ready. If this was what was supposed to be
his purpose in life, then he would work hard and achieve what he was meant to achieve. And Hermione
would be there, by his side, all the way there. She *had* promised, after all and Harry was
grateful for it.

Very grateful, indeed.

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