The Shadow of Innocence

"TWO MONTHS! But, that's insanity!" Ron exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table in the library, causing Hermione's book to go flying. Hermione frowned.

Harry shook his head. "I know," he muttered, picking Hermione's book up from the floor. "But there's no way I can avoid it," he said grimly. "Either I take the detentions, or I'm expelled."

"Well, I don't think it's that bad of an idea," Hermione commented. Harry dropped her book.

"Are you crazy?" Ron asked, playfully shoving her shoulder. Hermione grinned.

"No," she said shaking her head. "Maybe it's for the best. I mean it's been six long years Malfoy and us fighting with each other - nonstop. I'm getting quite sick of it," she said, reaching for the book Harry had handed her. "If you two become friends, all this foolishness will finally stop."

"It's not possible," Ron said, crossing his arms. Harry nodded in agreement.

"Don't worry Harry," Hermione said. "It's only eight weeks. It'll be over before you know it," she reassured him.

Ron snorted. "Yeah, eight weeks in hell," he said rolling his eyes. Hermione hit him on the shoulder.

"You'll be fine," Hermione told Harry again. Ron hit her on the shoulder and she toppled off the chair she was sitting on. "HEY!" she exclaimed loudly from the floor. Harry grinned as he watched Hermione pull herself up from the floor.

"Thanks Hermione," he said, suddenly standing up. "I think I'm going to go back to the common room now, just to take a rest," he said. "I'll see you both at dinner."

"Okay," Ron replied, as Hermione threw a rolled up piece of parchment at his head. "Are you sure you don't want me to come back with you or anything?" he asked, with a concerned look on his face.

"No," Harry said. "I need a while to relax," he said firmly, and walked out the door.

The hallway was cold and quiet, and Harry could smell the faint scent of potatoes and chicken being cooked for dinner. He shifted his books under his other arm and walked down the hallway. He turned a quick left before rushing up the staircase. He reached another hallway and walked right up to the familiar portrait of the Fat Lady, who was sleeping. "Yffindorgray," he said softly and the portrait swung forward.

He could hear the light chatter from the center of the common room, but didn't bother to see who was there. He headed straight up to the boy's dormitories and stepped inside. It was empty, and Harry was glad.

He slowly walked over to his bed, and collapsed down into his pillows. Eight weeks, he thought grimly. As if anything else in my life couldn't go wrong.

Harry closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to go to sleep. He lay there for only about ten minutes before the door banged open with a loud thud and a familiar red head rushed inside and right up to Harry's bed.

"Harry!" Ron said, out of breath.

Harry sat up in his bed and quickly got to his feet. "What is it Ron?" he asked, putting on his glasses.

"It's Hermione," he said. "Something about her parents. Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore, a whole mess of people," Ron said nervously yelling, waving his arms in the air. Harry turned his head in confusion.

"What are you -"

"I'll explain on the way," Ron said quickly, grabbing Harry's arm and they disappeared out the door.

****

"Oh my poor poor Draco," Pansy Parkinson exclaimed, in her annoying high-pitched voice. She had been rubbing Draco's freshly washed silver-blonde hair, exclaiming over and over how sorry she was that 'damn Potter, got away with that rubbish', for the past hour now. She was obviously not fond of Potter.

"Yes," Draco said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Poor poor me." He was sitting on the floor of the Slytherin common room, holding a book in his lap. "Now if you don't mind Pansy," he said, pulling away from her grasp. "I think I'll go study in my room now."

Pansy looked up at him with her giant puppy dog eyes and frowned. "Okay..." she said, sounding disappointed. "I'll be here if you need me Draco," she said, smiling and wiggling her fingers at him.

Yeah, like I really want to come back and have more of my hair being pulled out of my head, he thought to himself. "Okay," he replied and hopped up the stairs to the dormitories.

The room was cold, and his bed, surrounded by three others, stood freshly made at the center of the room. Silver silk curtains hung from his four-poster, and a black blanket with green embroidery hung off the edge of his bed. Draco gave a heavy sigh and he walked over toward it, pulling off his school robes as he did.

He threw it over his trunk, which stood at the foot of his bed and walked over toward the only window in the room. The bay window was large enough to fit two people, so Draco stretched out his long legs and closed his eyes.

Blackness flooded his vision as he attempted to go to sleep. It was no use. His mind was rushing with thoughts of his parents and their divorce, his foolish nightmares and worst of all Harry. His eyelids snapped back. Stupid Potter, he thought to himself. As if I have nothing better to do for eight weeks of my life then socialize with him and become his friend, he thought angrily. He stood up from his seat.

Draco walked over to his trunk and shoved his robes inside, and searched for a Chocolate Frog to clear his thoughts. But something caught his eye. A black box, tied with a green ribbon lay untouched at the bottom of his trunk. Draco nervously looked at it and ran his fingers up and down the dusty edges. He looked around the room to be certain that no one was in it and took the box out of his trunk.

Stumbling over to the bay window, he gently placed the box down and sat beside it. He contemplated whether or not to open the box. Draco glanced over at it a few times and decided he was being foolish.

He took one trembling hand and he reached over and gently pulled the green ribbon off of the box.

****

Harry sat against the cool brick wall, breathing heavily. He felt his chest rise up and down, and was afraid that his heart might break through his chest. He glanced over at Ron. He was staring at the floor, his arms on his knees and his red hair flying around his head wildly. He too was out of breath.

"You think she's okay?" Ron asked, breaking the silence.

Harry shook his head. "I dunno," he replied. "I guess we've got to wait to find out what happened," he said glancing at the door.

As if she had been watching Ron and Harry, Professor McGonagall came through the door, looking very grim. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," she addressed them both. Ron flew to his feet and Harry reluctantly got up.

"Where is she professor?" Ron asked impatiently. "Where's Hermione?"

Professor McGonagall frowned. "I'm afraid Miss Granger has been having a very rough night," she said softly. "I'm not sure if she would want--"

"Let them in," a familiar voice came from behind Professor McGonagall. She looked startled. "Please," the voice begged. Professor McGonagall nodded, and rushed Harry and Ron inside her office.

The office looked very familiar to Harry, as he had been in there many times before. Only this time a very disheveled Hermione sat in the middle of the floor. She was a wreck. Her curly brown hair had turned frizzy, and was falling in front of her face. Her face was pale and her eyes were red and swollen from crying. Her voice was weak as she tried to talk, and her eyes flooded with tears as she looked up at her two best friends standing in the doorway, unable to think of what to say.

"Oh Ron, Harry," she said, looking at the floor. "My parents--" she broke off, in a silent cry. Tears streamed down her face and she bit her lip, holding back a whimper.

Ron rushed down on his knees and stroked her hair softly, and wrapped his arms around her neck. "Shh," he said, running his fingers up and down her arms. "It's okay," he said. Harry sat down next to her, and held her hand in his.

"Hey Hermione," he whispered. "Don't cry, you'll be okay," Harry reassured her.

Hermione shook her head and looked up at him, her bottom lip trembling. She closed her eyes, and tiny tears slowly rolled down her face. "No Harry," she said softly. "My parents are dead."

****

A cool breeze entered the circular room, sending piece of parchment flying across the gray floor. A rug stood in the middle of the room, a black snake protruding through the middle of it, curving up and down the lines of the pattern. On top of that rug sat an empty black cauldron, waiting to be used. Shelves circulated the room, holding various objects. A jar of herbs, dried roots, Dragon Livers, Unicorn hairs, Snarled claws and a number of bright colored powders.

The room smelled faintly of cinnamon and vanilla, and yet a stronger scent was breaking through the pleasant smells. Blood.

A woman entered the room, dressed in black robes with a silver stripe down each side. Her silky black hair, streaked with red hung down to her waist, swaying slightly from side to side with every step she took. She wore high boots, up to her knees and a long black dress underneath her robes. Around her neck, she wore a necklace: a silver chair with a hook on the end. She let the door bang against the wall and looked around before she walked inside. Her dark red eyes darted around the room for a sign of movement. There was none.

A grin spread across her face, although it wasn't a pleasant grin. Her teeth resembled fangs and they glistened in the sunlight as she smiled. She opened her robes and pulled out a long thin wand.

"Accio," she hissed, and a small object from the wall flew into her grasp. It was a small round object that shimmered purple at one moment, and green at the next. She held it tightly in her hand, and placed it gently onto the hook of her necklace.

The ball glowed a bright red as she placed it on the hook. She placed her wand inside her robes and pulled them tighter around her body.

If anyone had known that the woman standing in the middle of that room had possession of that ball, the Ministry of Magic would have immediately thrown her in Azkaban for life.

But, no one knew, and she was determined to keep it that way.

****

The green ribbon flew gently out of his hands, and landed on the floor next to him. He didn't notice. He stared at the box, which held a neat pile of parchment, each written on very carefully in his mother's handwriting.

He reached inside and slowly pulled out the first piece of parchment. He traced the edges of the parchment slowly with his fingertips.

Dear Draco, he began to read.

I'm sending you this letter for a very serious reason. As you may know, from my previous letters, things around the house and between your father and I haven't been going so smoothly. Things are changing around here Draco. You know, your father and I haven't agreed on many things in the past. We've always had our differences, from when we were married, to when you were born, and now, especially. But now it seems as if this constant disagreement between the two of us has gone too far. This is why your father and I have decided that it would be best for the both of us, to file for a divorce.

Draco looked up from the middle of this letter, and threw it to the side, not wanting to read more. It hadn't upset him, but the memory of the news was too fresh in his mind, and he didn't want to be reminded of it anymore that night.

He picked up the next few letters, all describing what life was like at home. How Lucius was making his mother's life miserable. How all she wanted to do was escape. Draco had stared at these letters for a long time, feeling the pain his mother must have felt to write those letters to him, and yet, he couldn't help feeling comforted as if his mother was beside him, telling him everything that had happened.

He stared down at the box, still half full with written parchment and gently closed it. He tried swallowing, but a lump had appeared in the back of his throat. He wasn't going to cry, no, Draco Malfoy had never cried, but he suddenly felt sick.

Draco stood up and watched as the door to the dormitory slowly flew open. "Draco?" a small voice called. It was Crabbe.

Draco looked up as Crabbe nervously looked around the room. "Hello Crabbe," he answered, heading over to the door.

Crabbe grinned. "Hi. Er--dinner's nearly ready and Goyle and I are heading down to the Great Hall. Just wondering if you were coming to dinner," he asked.

Draco sat for a moment. "Yeah," he said thoughtfully. "I'll be right down."

****

Ron's eyes widened in amazement, and he reached over for Hermione's face. "Dead?" he repeated, astonished.

Hermione's gaze met his own and she nodded slowly, still biting her lip as more tears streamed down her face. Harry felt his own mouth drop, as he squeezed Hermione's hand tighter.

"Oh Hermione," he breathed. "I'm so sorry." He squeezed his eyes shut, and placed his arm around her shoulder.

"They were murdered," she said slowly. "The Ministry of Magic thinks it was done by Dark Wizards." She looked up at the ceiling. More tears slowly rolled down her cheeks and Ron gently took his finger and wiped them away. "Nobody knows what happened," she said in a whisper. "But they're dead. Ministry officials found their bodies."

Harry winced at the words that came from Hermione's mouth. He took his hand off her shoulder and grabbed her hand again. Ron closed his eyes and leaned closer to Hermione, and she placed her head on his shoulder. More tears slowly slipped out from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. Harry felt his throat go dry.

He looked up as the door creaked open and Professor McGonagall stepped inside. "Harry, Ron," she said slowly. "I think it's best if you go down to the Great Hall. Dinner is starting, and Hermione's aunt will be here shortly to take her home for a few days."

Ron looked at Hermione. "We're not leaving," he said firmly.

Hermione looked up at him. "No," she said. "Go. I'll see you in a few days," she said shortly, and pulled away from his grasp. Ron looked surprised.

Professor McGonagall gave Harry a nod, and turned to Hermione. "Hermione," he said. "I'm sorry. We'll be here for you when you come back," he said trying to reassure her, but unsure of what to say. He stood up and planted a light kiss on her forehead.

Ron looked at Hermione one last time and muttered something in her ear that made Hermione smile slightly through her tears. He brushed her hair behind her ears and kissed her softly on her lips, and stood up to face Harry. "Alright," he said, and followed Harry through the door.

"We'll see you Hermione," Harry said.

But all she could do was nod.

****

"Chip?" Crabbe asked.

Draco shook his head. He started down at his food: mashed potatoes, and a chicken leg. He pushed it away with disgust.

"Are you eating that?" Goyle asked, raising his eyebrows and staring at Draco's plate. Draco shoved it over in Goyle's direction.

"Knock yourself out," he said, wondering if Crabbe would take that statement literally.

He let his eyes wander around the Great Hall. He noticed Pansy Parkinson, chattering away with Millicent Bulstrode. She caught Draco's glare and waved enthusiastically at him. Draco just frowned.

He looked over at the Ravenclaw table, spotting Padma Patil and Terry Boot arguing over a book, throwing pieces of parchment back and forth at each other. He glanced over at the Hufflepuff table. What a pathetic lot, he thought. He watched as Justin Finch-Fletchley chucked a piece of chicken into Susan Bone's hair. She didn't seem to notice.

Draco grinned wondering if he should do the same to Pansy. But if she noticed, she would probably complain to someone and Draco would get in trouble again. Just what I need, he thought to himself. Another detention.

His eyes wandered over to the Gryffindor table, and thinking about his eight week detention with Potter he searched for his face, hoping to see him get hit in the head with some piece of food. But as he searched up and down, Harry was nowhere to be found.

Draco shrugged this off, and shoved a chip into his mouth.

Suddenly, the Great Hall doors creaked open and Draco watched as Harry and Ron entered the room, silently tip-toeing their way over to the Gryffindor table.

Their expressions looked grim, and Ron looked a little like he had been crying. Draco shrugged this off too and thought to himself, Maybe Potter showed Weasley how to shove his head down a toilet. With that he laughed silently to himself and grabbed for another chip.

He slowly looked back at the Gryffindor table, where Ron and Harry both had their heads in their hands, their plates still empty. Draco looked at them with disgust, and turned to face Crabbe and Goyle.

Although he couldn't help but wonder.

****

"Do you have it?" a low voice broke out through the crackling of the flames in the fireplace. The same woman was standing in the corner, wrapped in her robes. This room was square, and a single chair stood in the center of the room upon a rug, this time much larger. A man's head was barely visible in a darkened room, above the chair.

The woman nodded and turned to face him. "Show me," he said in a deep voice. The woman nodded once again, not saying anything. She opened her robes and brought out a small circular object, which glowed red as she removed it from her necklace.

The man in the chair slowly took it from her fingertips.

"Ah yes," he said slowly. "This is it Desdemona."

She smiled softly. Her task was finished, and she slowly backed away from the man in the chair. He stood up, and still holding the ball in his hands, whispered something she could not hear softly into the air.

Two faces appeared hovering above the tiny object, inside a cloud of red smoke. Both people, a woman and a man, seemed to be crying. The man holding the two in his fingertips smiled at them, as if he had just been watching his favorite television show.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO US?" the woman floating from the ball screamed into his face. Her face was pale and her cheeks were streaked with tears. She was clutching onto the man next to her, who seemed to be her husband, for dear life.

"LET US OUT OF HERE!" her husband yelled, reaching forward to touch the deformed gray face, which stood out in front of him. He was unsuccessful however, being trapped inside the smoke. He stared angrily at the man.

The man only smiled and placed the ball on the table in front of him. The two faces, still suspended in the air, looked angry and stared down at the man in the room.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked them calmly, as if he assumed most people were used to being trapped in a cloud of smoke. Both of them shook their heads.

"But please, whoever you are--" the woman began, but the man in the room cut her off.

"I am Lord Voldemort," he said, staring at the two faces, which were looking horrified.

"And you," he said pointing at each of them with a long bony finger, "Mr. and Mrs. Granger, are very important to me indeed," he said with a sneer. "But you will need to cooperate with me to get what you want. But for now," he said, pulling out his wand from within his robes. "You will just stay where you are."

A cloud of black smoke surrounded the tiny ball, and grew smaller and smaller until the tiny object was glowing different colors again on the table in front of him. He grabbed it from the tabletop and held it in the palm of his hand. Then he turned to face the woman standing in the corner.

"And you," he said, holding out the ball. "Desdemona, you will hold this for me until I ask for it again," he said placing the ball in her hands. She nodded, opened her robes, slipped it onto the silver chair of her necklace and hurried out of the door.

****

Hermione whimpered as she stepped into the Hogsmeade train station. She had reluctantly followed her Aunt Betsy here, who had dragged a sobbing Hermione out of Professor McGonagall's office.

Hermione was a mess. Her luscious brown curls were now big knots of frizzy strands in the way of her face. No matter how hard she'd tried, she couldn't move them out of the way, so she'd given up. Her eyes were red and swollen from her crying and her cheeks were soaked with tears that had streamed down her face so many times that night. Her face felt blotchy, and her freckles were stood out more than usual. She was glad it was dark outside.

Her Aunt Betsy was rambling on and on about her parents, and about how sorry she was for Hermione. She was constantly hugging her and kissing her forehead, leaving red lipstick marks that would stay there until Hermione furiously rubbed them off when her aunt wasn't looking.

Hermione slowly stepped onto the train, following her Aunt Betsy's lead. She sat down in a small compartment, with one man who was sleeping by the window. Hermione sat across from him and stared out of the window on her own.

She watched her aunt as she reached into her enormous purse and pulled out a People magazine. Hermione was surprised, she'd been away from the Muggle world for so long, that'd she'd forgotten all of the smaller details of it.

She turned away and looked out of the window, staring out onto the grassy fields that rushed by. She leaned her head against the window, trying not to think about her parents. She tried thinking about Harry, but that only lead her to the thought of the time he first met her parents.

Harry, do you say? Her father had said. Nice to meet you! I'm the delightfully marvelous Mr. Granger and this is my extremely charming wife Mrs. Granger, he said with a cheerful chuckle. Harry had laughed politely and sat down in the seat, offered by her mother. So Harry, her father had said, trying to make conversation. Do you like Hogwarts? Are you in any of Hermione's classes?

Harry had answered them. Yes! I absolutely love Hogwarts, and I'm in almost all of Hermione's classes. Well...not all of them, Harry had said thoughtfully, she's way too smart for me to keep up with! And her father had grinned, giving a big hearty laugh as her mother had served them all biscuits and milk.

Then there had been Christmas. The snow had brushed the ground so lightly, and their house had the faint smell of brownies drifting through the hallways. Her father had begun to sing Jingle Bells, with Hermione hoisted up on his shoulders. She had covered his eyes, and her father had almost lost his balance before he let Hermione jump down onto the couch in a mess of pillows.

Hermione consciously bit her lip, trying not to cry. She tried to focus on her Aunt Betsy reading her People magazine, but found it impossible to fight back the tears. She felt them slide smoothly down her face, and turned her face back outside the window again. She didn't want any more sympathy from her aunt.

Hermione gazed dreamily out the window, and wondered where they were. They were crossing an open river now, and her vision was filled with even more memories.

What a grand day to go for a boat ride Hermione, don't you agree? Her father had asked her, climbing onto the fishing boat he had rented. Hermione grinned at her father and agreed as he handed her a fishing pole. Hermione had never been fishing before, but he father had promised to teach her. Pull it back, he instructed her, and then give it a little flick, it's all in the wrists, he told her grinning. Oh how she loved her father's smile, and she never thought she could feel so empty without it.

When Hermione was home for the summer holidays her mother had brought her to the beach. She remembered lying on the sandy towels, side by side with her mother, glancing curiously over at the magazine she'd been reading. Then her mother would take her hand and rush down to the water for a swim. Oh Hermione, her mother had said. It's a beautiful day for a swim, she said splashing her with water. Mum! Hermione exclaimed. You're so silly sometimes!

Hermione laid her head against the window of the train. The loud rushing noise of the train filled her ears, and she closed her eyes her mind wandering.

She felt cold tears escape her eyes and rush down the sides of her cheeks, splashing into the palms of her hands. She squeezed her fingers tight, and quickly rubbed the tears from her cheeks away.

Oh mum, she thought, looking out the window. Dad. If you were only here, she thought to herself, fighting back more tears. She suddenly felt like Harry, and wondered how he could live with all this pain, day in and day out.

She wanted to talk to him. She wanted his comfort; to tell her what it was like for him. She shook her head wondering how she could be so selfish to ask Harry about his parents and his pain. She stared at her aunt who had fallen asleep while reading her People magazine, which fluttered out of her hands and onto the ground. The man across from her was peacefully sleeping with a light snore.

Hermione looked out of the window for the third time that evening. The train rushed by a forest of trees and bushes, the leaves breaking off the branches and swirling wildly around the ground. She closed her eyes and pulled her jacket more closely around her body.

'Night Mum, she said softly, 'Night Dad.