Voldenatus

"Remember the flourish in the wrist! And draw out the second last syllable: Morphooooosa Cupcake!"

Hermione tapped her wand to the china teacup on her desk, clearly articulating Professor McGonagall's incantation. The teacup jumped, and promptly morphed into a cupcake, complete with chocolate chips and pink puffy icing.

Ron shot Hermione a look that was half-impressed and half-frustrated. "How do you do that?" he sighed. "Every time. What about you transforming my teacup for me - I don't need to, having a friend like you who can do it for me if I ever feel the need to turn random objects into cupcake."

"I can't do it for you in an exam, Ron," Hermione shot back, a sharp, bossy edge in her voice.

"I'm never going to pass Transfiguration… look at those Slytherins, they're laughing at me... can't you at least help me, Herms?"

Hermione's face sprang into a grin. It was probably the show-off in her, but she loved helping people perform complicated magic. After all, transforming inedible and probably unhealthy-if-ingested items into nutritious homemade morsels was slightly more complex than basic transfiguration.

"Alright, hold your want like so… that's it… now, practice with me… Morphosa Cupcake!"

Hermione caught Harry's eye. He was grinning at her. She knew what he was thinking: she's loving this, she loves letting her light shine. Hermione shot him a piercing look, as if to say 'you next', and staring at his cupcake, which still had a floral design and a porcelain handle, he understood. Harry picked up his cupcake by the handle, pinkie sticking out, and made to sip it. Instead, he took a large, noisy bite and grinned at her. Hermione burst into hysterical giggles.

Just at that moment, Ron squeaked and jumped back from the table. Hermione bit back her giggles and looked at his teacup. It hadn't changed a bit. But the desk underneath it was acting peculiarly. The surface of the desk seemed to ripple, so much so that a large, gloopy globule of brown wood separated from the corner and fell to the floor with a decisive splat. More dollops of wood rolled lazily off the desk. Hermione knocked over the bench in an attempt to get away from the quavering tabletop, shrieking as she fell. All the Gryffindors and Slytherins spun around in response to Hermione's confused shrieks.

"Professor McGonagall," called Harry, a faint tone of amusement in his voice, "Professor, I think our desk is… melting."

McGonagall rolled her eyes and swept over to where Ron's bench was slowly dissolving into a puddle on the stone floor. She arrived just as one of the legs gave way, and the whole bench gave a squelchy lurch and tumbled onto the floor.

"I see you have discovered the Liquefum spell, Mr Weasley. How you got the word Liquefy from the word Morphosa, I do not care to ask. Finite Incantatem." The desk immediately stopped melting and, almost apologetically, the brown dollops of wood climbed back onto the desktop. McGonagall turned sharply and strode away, muttering something like "one in every year… sixth years, positively easy…".

Harry, Hermione and Ron resumed their seats. Ron was white with fright. Hermione was red with the embarrassment of having her desk melt in front of a teacher. Harry was green with the strain of holding back his laughter. They looked a bit like a row of Christmas lights, as an observant Slytherin pointed out.

The class resumed their attempts at the Morphosa spell. Hermione emerged from behind her spellbook to have another go at turning teacups to cupcakes. Harry continued distractedly, glancing at Ron and Hermione often in amusement.

Hermione turned to look at Harry, to say something to break their silence. She looked up at Harry to mention… the weather, maybe?… but her words caught in her throat. His large, startlingly green eyes were staring directly into hers, his features etched with raw love. Hermione suddenly felt the familiar electricity ignite between them. Her heart leapt and her breathing sped up. Harry gave her a wry smile, and then leaned forward to whisper something in her ear.

"You are so beautiful when you are embarrassed. Have I told you today how much I love you?"

Hermione blushed. "I think you mentioned it at breakfast. And in Charms, just briefly…" She was silenced by the warmth of Harry's hand on her knee.

"I'll say it again. I love you. Say, in about ten minutes, it's the end of school… I know a cozy wardrobe on level three…"

"Harry!" she whispered in what she hoped sounded like a scandalised voice. She looked away from his eyes, avoiding eye contact. "You know, we made the rules, not in school…" She trailed off as her eyes fell on Draco Malfoy. He was looking directly at Hermione, malice and smugness chasing each other across his face (it was a look only Malfoy could manage).

"Harry," she whispered, quieter still, "I think we'd better calm down. I think Malfoy suspects something. Just imagine the teasing!"

Harry's eyes broke from hers and flitted quickly to Malfoy. He drew away from Hermione, and they both resumed normal conversation as they attempted to transform their teacups.

It took a lot of concentration to force down the warmth that had grown in Hermione's stomach after that intimate encounter with Harry. This is Transfiguration, girl, she told herself, get a grip! If word gets out… although it had been two years since her run-in with Rita Skeeter, the memory sprang unpleasantly to the front of her mind. Although Rita Skeeter was still in a jar on her bedside table, she didn't believe that she was the only reporter who didn't care if their scoop was true or not.

The echoes of the magically magnified bell found their way to the Transfiguration classroom. The sixth-year Gryffindors and Slytherins leapt to their feet and clutched their books. Hermione rushed forward: she would have to be early to lunch if she was going to take Harry up on that offer. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks at the very thought.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp knock on her left shoulder. She felt her books slip out of her arms as she unbalanced and fell to the floor with a hard thud. She lay on the floor for a few moments, regaining her breath, while the other students pushed around her.

A drawling voice rose through the mutterings of the students around her. Malfoy knelt next to her. "Granger, I'm so sorry, did I knock you down?" He looked genuinely concerned, and Hermione was startled - but then Crabbe and Goyle started to snigger, and Malfoy joined in.

"Oh, you've used up all the smart insults your Daddy wrote up for you, eh? Reduced to shoving people around to make your point? Mature!" She pulled herself up and began to gather her books.

"No, Granger, I realised long ago that you didn't grasp the meaning of my words. It's not your fault, a Mudbl… Muggle-born like yourself can't be expected to understand the thoughts and ways of true wizards."

"It seems, from comparing my results with yours, that I understand wizardry much better than you!" she shot back hotly.

"Oh, no, hanging around with scum like Potter and Weasley… you obviously know nothing about the ways of wizards in the real world, not in a silly little school." There was something in the way he drawled this that suggested that he was implying more than a throwaway insult at Hermione's friends.

"What are you saying?" Hermione tried to form her face into the deadliest look she could. She was now on her feet, making to walk away from Malfoy and his Slytherin buddies.

"I'm saying," he muttered under his breath, pulling her back to him, "that the Dark Arts are rising back to power. He Who Must Not Be Named has risen again. Do not be fooled by his silence: although he has been lying in hiding for the past year and a half, he is gaining more power, more influence, every day. He will rise again soon, and when He does, He will be more terrible than ever before. The world will know true fear again."

Hermione looked at him in surprise. Her mind was in turmoil. Her whole body shook with emotion: fear, hatred, foreboding, panic, confusion, disbelief, all coursed through her veins. She murmured in a cracked voice, "Who… how… why are you telling me this?"

Malfoy's icy blue eyes seemed to see right into her soul. He drew near to her face, so close that she could feel his hot breath on her lips. "He will not have mercy on you, Mudblood, if you are in league with Potter. Nobody but his own followers will be spared. I can help you there. You are clever, you are beautiful, and I saw the way Potter was looking at you. He Who Must Not Be Named could use a servant like you. Glory, Granger. Glory, power, respect, it could be yours. Just take my hand, and you will be accepted into the fold."

Malfoy held out his hand. Hermione stared at him. This was… evil. She always knew that Malfoy was an annoying troublemaker, but… in league with Voldemort? She fought a wave of nausea at the thought. And he wanted her to join him. He wanted her to be a spy, to work against Harry. Her knees went weak. Her whole body went cold. Why wasn't she refusing? Did she want to accept? Looking into Malfoy's eyes, she heard a little voice at the back of her head: Glory, Granger. Your talents are wasted. The Dark Lord would appreciate you… you could finally be special, be important… Glory, power, respect…

Hermione looked down at Malfoy's hand. He held it out, just like he held it out to Harry, on the train to Hogwarts in their first year. Harry… Harry refused. Harry was strong. Harry did what was right. She loved Harry.

Suddenly, her situation became clear. The little voice of temptation disappeared. She knew she had always been competitive and ambitious, but this wasn't about her - this was about good and evil. She met Malfoy's eyes.

"You can shove your Dark Lord up your arse, Malfoy. I don't want to be your spy. You're scum. You're scum and I hate you."

She knew it wasn't much of a speech, but it served her purpose. She walked away without a backward glance at the group of stunned Slytherins.

Malfoy regained his voice. "Granger!" he yelled across the hallway. "You've got it coming, Granger! I know about you and Potter! He is going to find it very convenient!"

Hermione went rigid. She couldn't make her legs move. She faintly registered that many students were turning to look quizzically at Malfoy. Hermione realised that she didn't want to be here. She wanted to get out of this situation as soon as possible. She found her legs and ran. She didn't stop until she was back inside the Gryffindor common room.

* * *

"Hermione!"

Harry and Ron leapt from their chairs and ran to her.

"Hermione, where have you been?"

"What's the matter?"

"What happened?"

Hermione realised that her face was streaked with tears. She blinked away the salt water and looked Harry in the face.

"Malfoy. He wanted me to join... join Voldemort."

Harry and Ron looked at her blankly for a second. Harry snapped out of it sooner.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, JOIN VOLDEMORT?"

The entire common room went quiet.

"Take me to your dormitory," she whispered to them quietly, "it's a long story."

Harry and Ron supported Hermione up the stairs to their dormitory. They kicked Dean Thomas out and locked the door after him. They then sat Hermione down on Harry's bed and insisted she tell them what she was on about.

Hermione spilled the entire story. She told them about how Malfoy caused her to drop her books, then how he turned their exchange of insults into an offer to join the Dark Lord as a spy. She finished her story with the threat Malfoy yelled to her after she walked away.

Harry and Ron stood thunderstruck, unable to speak. Ron eased himself on the bed next to Hermione, utterly bewildered and unbelieving. Harry paced the room, anger swelling visibly. Hermione waited anxiously for his reaction. But he just looked at her. He saw the tears well in her eyes. She suddenly felt so little, so afraid, so defenceless… in a second, she was in Harry's arms, sobbing into his robes, while he gently stroked the back of her head. She clung to him, afraid of ever letting go, as he crooned words of comfort into her ear.

"Oh, Harry, Harry, he's going to use me against you…"

"He'll do nothing of the sort, my love, you're safe, he'll never hurt you…"

"What will I do?" she wailed in despair.

"Tomorrow, you'll tell Dumbledore. We'll go together, and we'll tell him, before Malfoy has a chance to get near you."

Hermione felt a surge of relief. Dumbledore. Dumbledore was here, and while he was here, nobody could hurt her.

Hermione relaxed. Harry felt it and let her go. Hermione tried to stand up, but she was still too scared. So she sat down and gazed around the room, taking deep, steadying breaths.

"Where's Ron?" she asked suddenly.

"He tactfully disappeared," Harry replied, a small smile playing across his face. "Come on, let's get you back to your dormitory, tucked in and safe."

"No!" Hermione exploded without thinking. She was startled at the strength of her reaction. She said again, more calmly, "No, I don't want to. I don't want to be alone tonight."

She saw a light behind Harry's eyes flicker. She wasn't sure if this was the right time or circumstance, but she was sure of what she wanted. She knew they had made rules, but she was so afraid. She didn't want to be away from Harry. She wanted him close, she wanted to feel his love. She held out her hand to him, and he took it in a tender grip. Then they were clinging together in a passionate embrace, their lips locked in a loving kiss, into which Hermione poured all her feelings: her fear, her confusion, but most of all, her raw, heartfelt need to be with Harry.

After a minute of their passionate exchange, Harry broke away from their embrace. Hermione felt the reluctance in his movement, and tried to pull him back to her, but he looked deep into her eyes and shook his head. Hermione looked searchingly into his eyes, asking herself: doesn't he want me anymore? Does he hate me? A crazy hysteria swelled in her stomach, rising slowly through her chest… He hates me… he doesn't want me…

"Hermione, we can't… what if… what if someone comes into the dormitory? They can easily unlock the door with a well-placed charm… and if they don't, they'll know what's happening anyway… this isn't allowed at Hogwarts, I'm sure of it…"

Hermione felt that there was some deeper reason for his pulling away than this. Her hysteria subsided, and a numb, saddened logic replaced it. "I can cast a spell similar to that used to hide the Leaky Cauldron… they wouldn't notice us, they would think it's just you sleeping."

Harry sighed. Hermione could sense his internal struggle. He was casting around for another excuse, she could see it in his eyes.

"What if I make you pregnant - " he began.

Hermione reached into her pocket and retrieved her wand. She pointed it at the relevant point between Harry's legs, and muttered "Inconceivus", then swished it between them, whispering "Inconspicuous". She then pointed at the door and murmured "Alohomora". She looked back at Harry, meeting a mixture of exasperation and admiration. For no reason at all, she felt tears spring into her eyes. The emotional strain of the afternoon finally got to her. She felt a single tear roll down her cheek. She looked into Harry's eyes. Right now, she wanted him, she needed him. And he was resisting.

"No more excuses, Harry. What's your real reason?" she whispered in a quavering voice. She didn't know if she could handle his answer.

"Hermione, I just can't…" he began clumsily.

Hermione interrupted him in a voice that was filled with love, fear, every feeling coursing through her body.

"Don't you love me?"

He was slightly taken aback. He felt the strength, the expectation in her words. "Hermione, I love you and I want you very much," said Harry huskily. Hermione felt the confidence subside, but a confusion rose in its place. Harry looked at her for a moment - Hermione could see the struggle behind his eyes. He continued: "I don't think this is right. Not now. I can't take advantage of you while you are scared… I want to do this because you love me…"

Hermione felt love surge up through her body, warming her, embracing her. Harry loves me. She never was more aware of his love than she was that moment. Harry loves me enough not to want to take advantage of me.

Hermione felt the smile spread across her face. She threw her arms around Harry, framing his mouth with a passionate kiss. Harry realised without needing to be told that she wasn't doing this because she was afraid. She felt his body responding to her kisses as she pressed herself against him. She felt his raw lust surface in his every movement: his kiss became hungry and heated, and his hands suddenly found their way into her robes. Hermione let herself sink into his body… this was exactly what she wanted… she was safe in his arms…

He gently lowered her back onto the bed. She was suddenly devoid of her clothes, and so was he. She looked up in slight alarm, to see him tucking away his wand. She giggled and pulled him closer, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. There was a comfort in the weight of his body on hers, the heat of his lips on her skin, the gentle caress of his hands between her legs… she let her conscious mind slip away as her body's instincts took over. She and Harry became one, a single, writhing entity on a four-poster bed. Together, as one, they sank into the bliss of their love, all threats forgotten, all fears drowned by the flooding of passion. Again and again they came together, climax after climax, until their bodies, still clinging together, simply sank into sleep.

* * *

Hermione jerked awake. She was cold, but at the same time, she was too hot. She tried to blink away the inky darkness - it was not meant to be this dark in Harry's dormitory. There was always moonlight streaming in the windows. She slowly turned her head to see where Harry was… he'd tell her where she was.

She made a series of terrifying realisations. Harry was not there: all she could see was inky blackness. She was not on a bed: there wasn't a pillow underneath her head - it was cold stone. She was not in Harry's dormitory: this was a narrow room, with only a small window about ten feet up its wall. She felt cold horror clamp her heart. She made to sit up, but found that she couldn't. She struggled at bindings at her wrists and ankles. She felt a hot panic flood her mind. What was happening? There was a scream building in her throat… her every nerve was geared to run…

A high-pitched voice began to chant an incantation, somewhere in the darkness near her feet. Hermione froze. In a single moment, the sheer terror gripped her body, as her mind accelerated to lightning speed. She raised her head slowly, to see where the sound had come from. Barely distinguishable from the darkness was a black, looming shape, a wand protruding from a black-draped arm. Hermione had no time to register what it was, because the wand it was holding over her stomach suddenly burst forth a bolt of green, sizzling electricity. It hit her stomach with a pain like a knife being sunk into her. The pain triggered the scream she had been holding in her throat.

Hermione was suddenly aware of movement all around her. Although she knew she was screaming, she could hear people shouting, panic-stricken.

"She is awake!"

"This is impossible!"

"What will we do?"

"She must be killed!"

The high-pitched voice stopped in mid-incantation. "No, she cannot, it will not - "

He was cut short by another voice, a younger voice. "I will kill her, Master. Let me prove my loyalty -" Hermione's screams died in her throat. She recognised that voice, but she couldn't place it…

A smaller figure than the one at her feet stepped into the patch of moonlight cast by the window. As if in slow motion, it raised its wand, pointing at Hermione.

"Avada Kedavra."

The room exploded with green light. Hermione heard a rushing sound in her ears, then a terrible pain. She felt like she was being wrenched from her body… the pain burnt her to the very bone, her every nerve screamed in agony… then everything was black.