The Shadow of Innocence

Hermione lay, rolled over on her side with her eyes shut. The sun came through the very small window in her dormitory, and shone brightly on her face. Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared up at the ceiling. She yawned, sat up and slowly stretched, looking around at her familiar surroundings. She almost smiled, before she realized what had happened the night before.

Ron. Her parents. Hermione looked down at her hands, frowning. She was angry, upset, furious, and she'd never been this confused in her life. She looked around at the other beds surrounding the room, and they were all empty. Her sheets had been kicked off, and were lying on the ground next to her.

Feeling rather queasy, she fell back into her pillows and closed her eyes again. How could he do this to me? She thought sadly, burying her face in her arms. What did I do wrong? I thought he loved me...

She opened her eyes, as those familiar tears, once again rolled across her cheek, smearing it with a cool salty moisture. She sniffled, and broke out in a whimper, trying to block the sound out in her pillow. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this sad, or angry. First it was her parents, and now Ron? What did she do to deserve this?

She thought back to last night, hearing the yells from inside the room and Ron looking up at her innocently, as if he hadn't done anything. She sniffled again. She remembered the antagonizing pain that had ripped through her body and trying to force herself not to believe anything she had seen. But she had, and she didn't know what to do.

She loved Ron, with all her heart, as a friend and something more. She never thought of being with anyone else, until today.

"Hermione?" a small voice called from the door. Hermione looked up and recognized the voice immediately. Harry.

"Yeah?" she called weakly, clearing her throat.

"It's me," he said softly through the door. "Can I come in?" he asked.

Hermione rubbed her eyes against the sleeve of her bathrobe. "Yeah," she replied quickly. The door slowly creaked open, and Harry entered wearing a green sweater and jeans. He walked over towards Hermione, who looked dreadful.

"Hey," he said softly, sitting down next to her on the bed.

She looked up at him with her swollen eyes. "Hey Harry," she said, forcing a weak smile.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, feeling stupid, but not knowing what to say.

Hermione shrugged and looked at the floor. "No, not really," she said, staring off into space. "I think the world has something against me," she said, forcing a laugh. "Everything just seems to be getting worse and worse. First my parents," she held up a hand, "Now Ron. What's next?" she asked, to no one in particular. "What the hell will be next for me?" she asked standing up. "Are they going to take my home away? My friends? Why don't I just die and get it over with?" she asked yelling loudly at the floor. She paced around the room for a minute, and then sheepishly looked up at Harry.

"Sorry," she said softly, crossing her arms and heading back over to the bed, to the very astonished looking Harry. "I'm getting overwhelmed," she said.

Harry blinked a few times, and then looked at her. "No Hermione," he said with encouragement. "That was great. Venting is always a good way to get stuff off of your mind," he said, glancing at Hermione.

He slipped his arm around her shoulders, and squeezed her tightly. "Don't worry," he said reassuringly. "Things are bound to get better eventually."

Hermione almost rolled her eyes. "I can only hope," she said sadly, looking at Harry. "Who was it?" she asked suddenly.

Harry looked at her with confusion. "Who was who?" he asked, even though he was beginning to catch on.

"The girl with Ron, who was she?" she asked quietly.

"Oh," Harry said uncomfortably. "It was Lavender. Lavender Brown."

****

Draco stood over the sink, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His face was pale, and his eyes were shining a bright silver color. He looked over at the bathroom stall he'd just been in, the fresh scent of vomit emerging from it.

He looked back into the mirror, and placed his face in his hands. His mother was dead.

He opened his eyes wide, suddenly, fearing that he might feel the urge to cry suddenly. He looked back at his reflection, almost seeing his mother in his own face, and heard his father's voice.

"Hello Draco," his father had said rather pleasantly. "Long time no see. I have some heartbreaking news," he told him, almost sarcastically, sitting down in the chair next to the desk in the middle of Professor Snape's office. He looked Draco in the eye and mumbled loudly, "Draco, your mother is dead."

Draco stared at his father for a while, not believing what he just heard "But how?" Draco asked.

"She was murdered," was the only response he gave, and then continued to ramble on and on, about how Draco would be living with him now and not Narcissa, what his new responsibilities were and how there would be no funeral for his mother.

"There is no need for a funeral, as they are a silly waste of time and money, and I see no need for the dead to appreciate it," he said in a serious tone, standing up and facing his son. His expression softened and he laid a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Draco," he said cheerfully trying to change the subject, "How much fun we will have, now that you're living with me." Lucius looked at Draco's face with a small grin, and his eyes narrowed.

Draco looked at him, astonished. "Fun?" he asked, surprised. "Is that all you can think about now? Having FUN?" he asked rather loudly, hoping Professor Snape hadn't heard him from outside the door. "Now, now Draco, I was only trying to get your mind off this horrible tragedy," Lucius said, without any sympathy. "But since you feel the need, not to appreciate my efforts, I will be off," he said in an enraged tone, and hurried out the door.

Draco felt abandoned and lonely. Sure, he had friends, he had money, heck, he even had good looks, but he'd always depended on his mother for comfort and advice. She was like his best friend, listening whenever he needed it, and the love he found in her, which he'd never found in his father or in anyone else. But all of that was gone.

When he was sure his father was gone he'd stumbled over towards the bathroom, ignoring Snape's sympathetic remarks, feeling nauseous. And here he was, sitting in the boy's bathroom, puking up his breakfast.

He stared into the mirror one last time, anger rising through his body. His pale face had turned a new shade of pink, something you wouldn't find in a crayon box, as he cursed loudly under his breath. His reflection was too much for him; he resembled his mother too well.

He drew back his hand quickly, aiming at the mirror, smashing it and sending tiny bits of silver glass bouncing across the sink and floor, a few hitting his cheek as they did so. He winced in pain, and when the loud rumble of glass shattering was gone, he glanced at his hand.

Blood poured down the sides of his knuckles, leaving dark red trails along his fingertips. He tried ignoring the pain, but the sight of blood was too much for him. He grabbed a towel from the sink and squeezed it over his hand.

He glanced around the bathroom, as the door suddenly flew open, and Ron Weasley stormed inside. Not noticing Draco, who was standing by the sinks still nursing a bloody hand, he leaned against the wall, with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Weasley," Draco greeted him, grinning through his pain.

Ron looked up, his blue eyes on fire. "Malfoy," he said through his teeth, and then looked down at his hand. "What happened to your hand?" he asked, looking concerned, but then took it back. "I hope it hurts," he said loudly.

Draco raised his eyebrows and took a step closer to Ron. "None of your business Weasley," he said.

Ron eyed the glass shattered on the ground curiously, then turned to face Draco. "Wait a minute," he said, looking very stupid. "You broke the mirror!"

Draco could have hit him in the head. "No," he said, sarcastically. "I heard Barny the Fruitbat singing 'I'm just batty about butterbeer' and he flew around on his little wings and suddenly BOOM," he said with his eyes wide, his hands animating his every word.

Ron frowned. "You're not funny," he said, with all seriousness.

This time Draco frowned. "I'm not trying to be funny," he said, with a pout on his face. "I'm serious, I saw him! 'I'm just batty about butterbeer," Draco began to sing.

Ron snorted, and cursed under his breath. "Shut up Malfoy," he said slowly, turning his face away. "I need to be alone, so just..." He looked around, unsure of what to say. "Leave me alone!" he shouted suddenly.

Draco snorted. "Sure thing Weasley," he said loudly. "Just tell me one thing?" he asked. Ron looked up. "What did you really do to Mudblood, because Pansy was telling me this incredibly entertaining story about how you chea--"

"None of your business," Ron said shortly, shooting a death glare towards Malfoy. "Just go away."

"Because I really admire your nerve to go and--"

"GO AWAY!" Ron shouted angrily, pushing Malfoy out the door, and slamming it in his face.

"Tough crowd," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head, his mind now completely off his mother. He turned towards the hospital wing, holding his hand, hoping Madam Pomfrey could heal it.

****

Ron looked down at the floor, chewing on the edges of his fingernails. He slowly closed his eyes, the events of the past days rushing back underneath his eyelids.

"Ron," she had called softly, peeking out from behind the chair that sat in front of the warm fire in the Gryffindor common room. "Can you help me for a minute," she spoke again, her soft voice reaching his ears, melting him to the floor.

He looked at her obediently, the look of lust settling in his eyes. She took his hands and he led her up to his bedroom, thinking about nothing but her. Her skin felt silky smooth, her hair tickled his face, as she lazily brushed past him, sitting on his bed, chewing on the end of her Sugar Quill, licking her lips.

The way she whispered in his ears, the way she ran her fingers down his shoulders. The way her lips brushed his own, the touch of her fingers in his hair. He wanted her so bad, and yet the guilt hung onto him, like a child clinging to its mother. He ignored it, kissing her small lips, her chin and slowly her neck, touching her face and then, realizing that he didn't want Lavender. He wanted Hermione.

Oh how he longed for her touch on his face, the warm scent of her creeping over his body, her own soft lips against his. If only he could tell her how much he loved her, how he didn't mean it, and if he could do everything over he would. She never deserved any of this pain, she didn't do anything wrong.

But none of those thoughts had mattered to him at that moment, and none of it mattered now, because it was all over. He could no longer hold Hermione in his arms, and he realized that he had lost his only true love.

His eyelids snapped back, his blue eyes searching the bathroom wildly. The cold cement against his fingertips rose up through his arms and towards his spine, sending shivers through his body. He wrapped his cloak tightly around himself, and prepared to leave the bathroom. Slowly opening the door, he held back a yell.

It was Harry.

"Ron," Harry said, sounding astonished to see him.

"Harry," Ron greeted him with a dim smile, taking a step backwards.

"We need to talk," Harry said sternly, walking into the bathroom and quickly shutting the door behind him.

"Now?" Ron asked dejectedly.

"Yes," Harry said. "I need to know why you would hurt someone like that, not for Hermione, but for me. I want to know what the hell was going through your mind."

"Nothing."

"You can't just say 'nothing' Ron!" Harry yelled deafeningly, rattling the mirrors on the wall. "You had to have a reason! I know you would never hurt Hermione intentionally," he said in a softer tone. "Would you?"

Ron stared at Harry, and then at the floor. "No," he said in a whisper. "I never wanted to hurt her," he said, his eyes searching Harry's face.

"Then why Ron?" Harry asked. "Why would you do that to her? You know what she's been through this past week, and you had to go and make everything worse for her. Why make her life--"

"I don't know!" Ron retorted, pacing around the room. "I wasn't thinking! I didn't know what I was doing! I never thought about what would happen if Hermione caught me!" He spun around. "You know I would never try to hurt her," he said softly, stopping in his tracks. "I loved her."

"And what made you stop?"

"Nothing!" he shouted. "I never said that I didn't love her anymore!" Ron shifted uncomfortably, feeling Harry's eyes searching him for an answer. "I don't know what happened," he told him quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't tell me you're sorry, tell Hermione."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because she hates me."

"She doesn't hate you!" Harry yelled, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder. "She might be upset, and lose some of the trust you two had between yourselves, but she could never hate you Ron. Hermione loves you," he said.

Ron looked up and shook his head. "She doesn't love me like she did before."

Harry looked at him uneasily. "Well, maybe not like before," he said slowly. "But she still loves you," he reassured him.

Ron broke away from Harry's grasp on his shoulder and began pacing the room again, brushing his red hair away from his face. "It's not the same," he said in a whisper, worried that he might break out into tears.

"Well you can't expect everything to go back to how it was!" Harry yelled at him, following his footsteps around the bathroom floor. "You cheated on her! Did you think everything was going to go back normal?" Harry asked him, his arms flying wildly around his head.

Ron spun around. "I don't know!" he screamed back into Harry's face. "I never thought this was going to happen. I never planned on it! I didn't mean to..." Ron broke off in a small sniffle. He looked at Harry, who's expression became softer.

"Hey Ron, I didn't mean--"

"No," Ron said firmly. "I deserve all the yelling. I know I do," he said gently. "But I don't think I can face Hermione."

"Well you're going to have to face her sooner or later," Harry told him. "She has the right to know. Imagine how she's feeling now. Her parents are dead. Her boyfriend cheated on her. You have to explain to her why you did this to her. She needs to know," Harry told him.

Ron shook his head in agreement. "You're right. I know you are Harry, I just don't think I can do it now," he said softly, and walked out the door.

****

She stood in the same room, holding a glowing red ball in her hand, twirling it in her bony fingers. She held the lives of three people in this tiny ball around her neck, and yet, she felt powerless. She glanced up at the powerful wizard before her, murmuring a few things to himself that she dared not to listen to. He glanced up, and she shifted her gaze to the fire, hoping he did not feel her eyes in him, but she was wrong.

"Desdemona," he spoke in a whisper. She glanced up at him, his hideous face shadowed from the darkness of the room. His red eyes shone in the firelight as they stared through her eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She opened her mouth, to respond, but not a word came through. She quickly closed it again, glancing in his direction. She felt his eyes on her, and suddenly she felt unprotected and afraid. He sensed her fear, and she knew it.

He took a step closer to her, and she stood trembling, but motionless. He reached out to touch her, and as his icy hand gripped her shoulder, she felt chills ride up and down her spine. She closed her eyes, unsure of what to do.

"You're so beautiful," he spoke in a whisper moving closer to her. She held back a whimper of fear, wanting to move away from him, but knew she couldn't. He brushed a long strand of her silky black hair behind her shoulder and forced his lips against hers.

She felt awkward and alone. She stood frozen to the spot, knowing that if she dared moved away, he would probably kill her. She wasn't important to him; he could find another one just like her in an instant. So she stood, with a hideous creature attached to her lips, she tried to enjoy his 'kiss', but was unable to do anything, standing in such a rigid position.

After what seemed like an eternity, his face pulled away from hers, the look of longing in his eyes. She stared back at him, unsure of what to say. With his hands still on her shoulder, he reached within her robes and drew out a small chain, with a marble sized ball on the end.

"Ah," he said with glee. "The Celere Animus. We have a new addition," he said looking at her, a grin on the edge of his lips. She nodded very quickly, allowing him to remove the ball from her necklace.

He cupped it in his hands and whispered into them, and a cloud of red smoke appeared above his head. Three people stood, looking very unhappy, and very squashed. There were Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and on the end a small frail woman with silvery blond hair, falling into her eyes.

"Narcissa," the man spat, staring at the woman on the end. She stood biting her lip, and uncomfortably squeezing her hands together. "How nice to finally see you again," he said quietly. She stared down at him.

"You ugly, no good, son of a--"

"Now, now Narcissa," he said. "There is no need for the rude language. I won't hurt you...much," he said with a sneer.

Narcissa let out a sort of an unbelieving laugh. "And who says I should trust you?"

Voldemort looked at her with curiosity. "Why? Because I am the Dark Lord, and," he said pulling out his wand from his robes, and pointing it at her chest, "I can kill you if I wanted to."

Narcissa took a step backwards, a frown still on her face, but her lips remained silent. Voldemort smiled. "Good," he said. "Narcissa," he shouted, turning around, startling the Grangers. "Have you any idea why you are here?" he asked slowly, twirling his wand in his fingers like a young schoolboy who was bored in class.

"No," Narcissa replied blandly.

He spun around. "Perhaps I should tell you then."

****

Her pillow was already soaked with tears with Ginny entered the room. She knew how hideous she must have looked, her hair all bushy and falling into her face, her cheeks smeared with tears, her eyes all red and swollen. But she also knew that Ginny wouldn't care.

"Oh Hermione," she breathed as she ran quickly into the room, scrambling onto the bed where Hermione was sitting, cross-legged. She seemed to be flipping through a book, biting her lip and twirling a strand of her frizzy brown hair with her fingertips.

Hermione looked up with a blank expression. "Ginny," she replied, trying to seem excited, but sounding far from it.

Ginny tried to grin up at her, but her expression slowly changed to a sympathetic look. "Hermione, I'm sorry," she began. "I know, my brother's a git, I don't know why he'd do something like that to you, I don't know at all, but I swear he'll get a piece of my mind! A good chunk of it he will, he deserves to be trampled on by a Erumpent I say!" she rambled on, crossing her arms in fury.

Hermione forced a smile, and then a tiny laugh. "Hey, no," Hermione said softly. "It's okay, forget about it. I don't really want to talk about that anyway, I have something else, maybe you can help me with," she told Ginny.

Ginny looked up curiously. Hermione took the large book off of her lap and scooted closer to Ginny, placing the giant book between the both of them. "What is it?" Ginny asked inquisitively.

Hermione took a heavy sigh. "While I was at my parents funeral, I went outside for a while, just to...er, look at the flowers," she lied, breaking her eye contact with Ginny. "And this strange man appeared, just like that," she said, snapping her fingers. "And he handed me a book, and he told me that it had something to do with my parents. I don't know what he meant, but I want to find out."

Ginny shook her head in amazement. "He just handed you the book?" she asked.

Hermione nodded her head.

Ginny backed away from the object sitting between them. "But how can you be sure there's no charms or hexes or enchantments on it? What is someone's...trying to kill you too?" she asked softly, a worried expression on her face.

Hermione looked surprised. She hadn't thought of this before. "Oh damn," she said slowly, backing away just as Ginny had done before. How could she have been so stupid? With the past events, it had been hard for her to concentrate, but she didn't even remember to check the book for charms or hexes. God Hermione, something is terribly wrong with you.

She thought for a moment but then she shook her head. "No," she said, thinking aloud. "If there was some kind of charm or hex on it, then wouldn't it have already shown?" she asked, looking up at Ginny.

Ginny shrugged.

Hermione moved back to where she was sitting, slowly opening the book and flipping through the pages. Ginny looked at her with a curious expression on her face.

"Hermione," Ginny said, placing a hand on her friends shoulder. "The pages, they're all empty."

Hermione shook her head in response. "I know," she said quietly, flipping through the book. "I wonder what it means? How is this book supposed to help me?" she asked, turning the book over as if she were to find something underneath it.

"Maybe there's a spell to make it show itself?" Ginny suggested.

Hermione nodded, reaching for her wand on the bedside table next to her bed. "Hmm," she thought out loud, pointing her wand at the book. "Show yourself," she said, feeling rather stupid.

Nothing happened.

"Open! Aparecium! Appear! Appareo! Show me something! Ugh!" Hermione cried out in frustration. "Damn book!"

"Hermione," Ginny said. "You don't think this is going to be anything like...Riddle's diary," she asked cautiously, nervously eyeing the book.

Hermione looked up. "Er, no, I doubt it," she said. She reached for a quill, sitting in between books piled beside her bed. She slowly dipped it in ink, and placed it to the page, writing her name slowly in neat cursive.

They waited.

Nothing happened.

"See?" Hermione said proudly. "Nothing to be afraid of."

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief as she moved closer to Hermione, and the book she held in her lap. Hermione placed the quill carefully where she'd taken it from and she and Ginny both peered down at the book.

"So?"

"So."

"What do you propose we do?"

"Library?" Hermione suggested.

Ginny nodded in agreement. They both hopped off the bed, Ginny's robes catching onto the heavy book and tugging it to the floor. "Whoops!" she said sounding flustered.

Hermione gave her a smile. "It's alright," she said. "Look!"

Ginny rushed over to Hermione's side. Her tiny finger pointed to the last page of the book, where a single page was scribbled with a single letter labeled Dear Hermione, and a photograph was pasted to the back cover of the book.

Ginny covered her mouth. "Oh my..."

Hermione turned to look at her, leaning closer towards the photograph. "I know who this is!" she announced pompously.

Ginny's astonished face turned to look at her. "You do?" she asked, her hand still covering her mouth.

"Yeah, I met him in the graveyard. This is the guy who gave me the book," she said, eyeing Ginny's surprised features. "Why? Who do you think it is?"

"Hermione," Ginny said, her expression becoming serious. "It looks like Tom Riddle."

****

"Bugger. Who's bright idea was this anyway?" a very irritated Draco Malfoy spat, sitting on the ground with what seemed to be a rake.

Harry looked up from his spot. "Well I sure didn't raise my hand and ask Professor McGonagall if we could rake leaves," he said irritably, shoving more red and brown leaves into the bag he held.

Draco snorted. "Are you sure Potter? Because you really seem to enjoy these Muggle chores, ranking, or raking, whatever you people call it."

Harry looked up with amusement in his emerald eyes. "Raking," he stressed. "Say it with me now, R-A-K-I-N--"

Draco threw his gloves toward Harry's head. "No offense Potter, but I don't fancy you teaching me how to spell, thank you." He stood up, clutching the rake in his hand, eyeing Harry curiously, as he shoved leaves into a bag.

"If I only had my wand," he mumbled furiously, as he tried to copy Harry's movements. The Quidditch field was almost finished, and boy was he happy. He'd spent his entire Monday afternoon helping the house elves put their spice rack in order, his entire Tuesday afternoon washing windows, and today was raking leaves. He dreaded the next eight weeks.

Harry wiped his forehead of sweat and plopped down next to his bag of leaves. "Finished," he breathed into the cool autumn air. A few leaves, that hadn't been picked up swirled around his head, floating off into the distance.

Draco threw down his rake, and sat down on the fresh green grass underneath him. His fingers slid over the tiny blades and dirt brushed over his nails as he dug them into the ground.

"You think McGonagall will let us play this weekend?" Harry said, breaking the silence.

Draco turned his head and faced Harry who was staring at the clouds. "She'd better," he replied, watching Harry curiously as his eyes darted around at the sky. "What are you doing?" he asked with a smirk.

Harry flushed a slight pink, but replied, "Looking at the clouds. Sometimes at the Dursley's, when they'd left me alone, I'd lie out on the lawn and watch the clouds pass by," he said slowly, looking at Draco's expression.

He looked at Harry like he'd just bitten a head off a chipmunk. "What?" Harry asked, impatiently.

Draco smiled. "Looking at the clouds?"

Harry nodded. "Why? You've never looked at the clouds before?"

Draco shook his head. "No, and I don't plan to."

"C'mon!" Harry urged him on, "Just try, see," he said pointing to a large cloud above their heads, floating away in the cool breeze. "That one looks like my Aunt Marge, and that one," he said pointing to the one next to it, "Looks like apple pie."

Draco curiously looked up at the sky. All he saw were clouds.

"Okay, you try," Harry said, looking at Draco.

"Okay, that one over there," he said, pointing to a rather small cloud. "That one looks like a cloud, and that one over there," he said pointing to another. "Blimey, that one looks like a cloud too!" he suddenly sat up. "Perhaps," he said with his eyes wide, "it's because they really are clouds!"

Harry looked at him crossly. "You're the one who asked what I was looking at," he replied blandly.

Draco shrugged. "I really can't see the fun in watching clouds," he said truthfully.

"It's not fun, it's just relaxing," Harry told him. "Children do it all the time."

"Which explains why you're doing it right now," Draco said with a smirk. He lay down on his back again, peering up at the clouds. "Alright, alright," he said. "That one over there, looks like a sphinx," he said, pointing to a circular cloud over in the distance. "And this one right here," he said pointing above him, "looks like--"

He suddenly broke off. His mother's chocolate chip cookies that she used to bake, he thought sadly, staring up at the cloud as it drifted off in the distance. You're being stupid, he thought to himself. It's just a bloody cloud, not Narcissa's cookies--

"Looks like what?" Harry asked curiously.

"Er--Granger's hair," he said, trying to think of a good answer. He stood up from the ground and brushed off his robes. "I've got to go," he said, and hurried off the field.

"Was I just having a normal conversation with Malfoy?" Harry asked himself, watching the tall pale-faced boy walk off in the distance. Yep, a voice in the back of his mind said. You were.

****

Narcissa bit her lip as she squinted through the dark red smoke that she was trapped in. The Dark Lord had his back turned to her, and she turned towards the Grangers who looked terrified of her.

"An explanation," he spat into her face, turning around slowly. "Narcissa, I'm fairly sure that you are aware why you're here," he said quietly.

"No," she replied, again.

"You know!" he barked, pointing a finger in her direction. "I know Lucius has been slowly draining me of my powers. All the Death Eaters are afraid that I will truly reach the power that they know I am capable of. Do you not think that I can't feel that? Stupid fools! I know everything that goes on with my followers, which means I know exactly what's going on with Lucius. I know his secrets his deepest and darkest secrets Narcissa, I can hear what he thinks, I can see what he does, and I know when he betrays me."

"You can't," Narcissa said, astonished.

"Oh, but I do. I know all about the Potestas Abigere. How he can slowly drain my powers away, with the help of my followers. I know that he knows that I am not truly to my full power and that he can gain power over me in an instant. Yes, I know all about that," he said, slyly. "And you know too."

"No," she screamed. "I know nothing!"

"Liar," he hissed, and pointed his wand at her heart. "Tell me the truth."

Tears struggled to fall from her eyes, as she answered, "I know nothing."

"You know that Lucius has been draining my powers! You know where they're hidden Narcissa! Tell me!" he screamed, fury rising in his voice.

"Never," she hissed.

"You choose to deny my commands?" he asked with slight amusement breaking through his voice. Narcissa just stared at him. "Do you?" he shouted.

Narcissa bit her lip. Either way, I will die, she thought sadly, through her tears. She turned towards the Dark Lord. "Yes." The word tumbled out of her mouth as her eyes flooded with tears. She slowly backed away at the approaching wand, but nothing was there for her to touch.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted, as a green light broke through the barrier of the red smoke, and as if time had stopped, slowly hit Narcissa's fragile body, sending her flying backwards with her last breath of air, and a tiny scream that was cut short.

The Grangers were terrified as they both slowly backed away from the body lying next to them.

"Hello?" Mr. Granger called weakly, not daring to take a step closer.

There was no response.

"She's dead you fool!" Voldemort shouted angrily.

"D-Dead?" Mrs. Granger asked nervously, her eyes wide with fear.

"Yes," Voldemort sighed, sounding bored, as if it was just as normal as eating breakfast. His expression quickly changed to surprise as a yellow light slowly came from the other side of the red smoke, surrounding and smothering him. He yelled out in surprise as the yellow light slowly tore through his robes and seeped into any open skin.

He cried out in pain, and stumbled backwards, dropping his wand from his hand, and as quick as the light had come, it was gone. He looked around the room, a small grin on his face.

"Ah," he said happily. "My true powers. Narcissa was the one who was holding them for Lucius. Smart man, that Lucius Malfoy, smart man indeed." He smiled up at the Grangers, both holding onto each other for dear life.

"And now," he said with pleasure, "It's your turn."

****

"Go away."

"No, I have to talk to you."

"Please, everyone's staring."

"I don't care."

"Well I do! Leave me alone!"

"Hermione!" Ron grabbed her wrist from across the table, spilling pumpkin juice down the edges of the seat and splashing onto her robes. "Please?"

Hermione struggled away from his grasp and slowly brushed off her robes. "No," she yelled. "Not with her here," she hissed, pointing to Lavender sitting at the edge of the table.

"I just need to explain," he said softly.

Hermione took a heavy sigh, and reluctantly sat down on the table, wiping the pumpkin juice next to her up with a napkin. She looked away, tears forming in her eyes.

"Hermione, I love you."

"No you don't, you liar."

"Hermione! Please! Just listen to me!" he shouted. Lavender turned her head, flushed a bright red and slowly turned away. "Ignore her," he said, glancing in her direction.

Hermione turned her head back to Ron. "I love you," he began. "I just want you to know that I still love you and I know that things are never going to go back to the way they were, but I love you and I need you to know that I never meant to hurt you. I never I wanted to hurt you, and if I could do it all over again I would do everything differently. I'm sorry Hermione, I am so very sorry," he said in a shaky voice.

Hermione shook her head. "You just don't get it Ron, do you?" she said slowly.

"Get what?"

"You can't just come in here and tell me you love me and that everything will be okay and expect me to forgive you just like that," she said snapping her fingers. "Don't you realize what you've done to me?" she asked, her voice getting weaker.

Ron eyes widened. "I never meant to--"

"I know you never meant to Ron!" Hermione shouted, loud enough for the entire Great Hall to hear. "But you did! You broke my heart, tore through my soul and betrayed me," she said softly, her eyes welling up with tears. "And I don't think I can ever forgive you for that."

"Hermione, I--"

"But I love you Ron, I truly do. But there are just some things that can't be forgiven, and this is one of them." And with that she stood up, gathering her books in her arms and stormed out of the Great Hall, all eyes on her.

She ran down the hallway, clutching her books in her arms, as if she was holding onto them for dear life. He eyes became dry, and she felt the urge to cry.

Only she didn't. She had no more tears left.

She continued down the hallways, up the corridors and down a stairwell, not aware of where she was going. She looked behind her, wondering if she should turn around, but kept running until she ran smack into--

Malfoy.

"Oh!" she said with surprise. The impact knocked her backwards, sending her books flying everywhere, parchment scattering across the floor and an ink bottle shattering to the ground, sending spots of black ink flying across her face.

"Watch where you're going Hermione," Draco said with a smirk, looking down at the surprised girl on the floor. She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed in a bright pink, with an ink spot dripping down her face.

Not very attractive, Draco thought to himself, eyeing her face. But why is she staring at me? He thought to himself again, feeling uncomfortable under her brown eyes. Although, her eyes are kind of nice, he thought again. He shook his head wildly. Ugh! What is wrong with you! This is Granger, Mudblood, and Mrs. Bushy-hair-I-know-the-secrets-of-the-world! What are you thinking?

"Malfoy," Hermione began, still sitting with her books scattered around her and parchment sticking to the ink that dripped down her hands. "D-Did you just call me...Hermione?"

Draco thought to himself a moment, and then looked down at Hermione. "W-what?" he said slowly, not knowing what to say.

Hermione grinned to herself. "You just called me Hermione," she said looking up at him with a grin.

"Yeah?" he said, trying to think of a good comeback. "So--so what if I did?" he said slowly, crossing his arms furiously. She's right, he thought to himself slowly. I did call her Hermione. Why did I call her Hermione? And why can I never think of a good comeback when I need one? That's what I should be known for. I'm a Malfoy for crying out loud!

"So, It's just weird," she said shrugging and picking up her books from the floor. "You've never called me Hermione before, it sounds strange," she said, standing up, looking a mess.

"Yeah, well, if you don't want me to call you Hermione," he said, as if her name were a dirty word, "Then I'll happily call you Mudblood, Granger or Smart Ass," he said with a smirk. "Quite a selection you have to choose from though."

Hermione's grin faded from her face and she walked up face to face with Malfoy. "You're a really nasty git, you know that?" she said, poking him in the shoulder.

He grinned. "Hey, that's what I'm known for," he said cheerfully. Then grabbed her hand, and quickly dropped it at her side. "And please, don't poke me. It's not very sanitary," he said, and walked off without a word.

Hermione watched him leave, and looked around the hallway for a moment. She finally realized that she, Miss Hermione Granger, who'd read Hogwarts: A History a thousand times, was finally lost. She peered up as Malfoy turned the corner, and quickly followed him down the hallway.

****

Ginny flipped irritably through pages and pages of books, slowly stopping when she saw He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or Lord Voldemort or Tom Riddle Jr., in the books she'd been searching. She'd skipped lunch in order to head over to the library, constantly checking her watch to see if it was time for Potions.

Where is Hermione? She thought to herself, flipping through another book called Enchanted Books and What You'll Find in Them.

"Ugh!" she cried out in frustration, throwing the book down on the seat beside her, reaching for another.

"We seem a little frustrated today," a familiar voice called out from behind her. Ginny spun around in her seat and faced a bushy haired girl standing behind her, her hands covered in ink, but she was holding exactly what Ginny had been looking for.

"What took you so long?" she exclaimed loudly, hoping Madame Pince hadn't heard her.

"I, er--got in a fight with Ron, and then I got lost," she explained quickly. Looking at Ginny's confused expression she said, "No matter, let's get working on who this guy really is."

Ginny nodded, showing Hermione the books she'd already searched in, and shoved a large pile of books in her direction. "Here's some you can search through, although I doubt you'll find anything interesting.

Hermione raised her eyebrows as she slowly dusted off a copy of Pictures of Witches and Wizards You Never Thought You'd Find, and began flipping through the pages slowly.

Finally, Ginny let out a squeak of accomplishment. "Here he is! This is him, isn't it?" she asked, holding out the book for Hermione to see. She laid the book she was holding in her lap in the table beside her and leaned over towards the book Ginny was holding to peek at the picture.

Sure enough it was him, the same man she'd seen in the graveyard, only this time looking much more grim. The picture was small, and slightly smudged with fingerprints, but it was definitely what the two girls were looking for.

Ginny's tiny manicured fingernails rode across the page, her eyes scanning the words as she went. "Ben Riddle, born on December 16^th, 1973, was the son of one of the darkest and most feared wizards in history. He currently has no contact with his father, and lives in a small town with his dog, Pooky," she read, and then giggled. "Pooky?"

Hermione let out a laugh, which she was surprised she'd still remembered how to do, before her expression turned serious again. "I never knew He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, had a son," she said, turning towards Ginny. "Did you?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, but it seems like he's a good guy...right? I mean, he had the chance to hurt you, or kidnap you and he didn't. He gave you a book," Ginny said thoughtfully. "But that didn't really help either."

Hermione shook her head. "Is there anything else on mysterious books or something?" she asked, hoping there was an answer. Ginny eyes scanned the page one last time, and she looked up at Hermione.

"Nothing."

"Ugh!" Hermione cried out in frustration. "There has to be some way to figure this out!"

"What about the letter at the end of the book? Did you read it?" Ginny asked. Hermione's eyes widened, and her expression became eager.

"Good one Gin," she said, reaching for the book beside her. Ginny smiled at her friend's absent-mindedness as she watched her read the letter she held in her hands.

"Well?" she asked curiously, leaning over the table to try to read the parchment.

She watched as Hermione's expression turned to confusion and she slapped the parchment down on the table. Ginny snatched it up in her hands to read it.

Dear Hermione, she began to read.

The reason I'm giving you this book for a very important reason. Hermione, your parents aren't dead, but are very much alive. They've been kidnapped by Lord Voldemort, and are trapped in something that is called a 'Celere Animus', a very illegal Dark Magic item that is used to steal the souls of humans and keep their souls in a tiny ball, no bigger than a marble. The only way to release those souls is if the glass ball was destroyed, but as long as Voldemort has the object, your parents are in grave danger. I've taken the liberty to restore their bodies, so they can fully return to them after they are released. Lord Voldemort doesn't know this, of course, or he would be after the both of us. I can not stress enough, how much you must keep this letter, book and anything else that is told to you a secret, until we are completely sure that we are completely out of Lord Voldemort's reach.

Now about this book you now hold in your possession. This book is very powerful, very magical and very dangerous. It is connected to Voldemort, through my blood. The reason is that, I am his son. Since I have half of my mother's genes and half of my fathers, I can use that to connect myself to him, by using a strong potion called the Potestas Abigere. This potion was made, even before I knew you were involved for a man called Lucius Malfoy, and I assume you know who he is too. I worked for him, a long time ago, when I was only about your age. He told me that he wanted to slowly strip Voldemort of his powers, and drain them all back me and another wizard so that my father couldn't do the horrible things that he did. So I let him perform this horrible spell on me, draining me of my powers and letting my life depend on this one man.

Being the foolish teenager I was, I trusted Lucius, and helped him create the potion, which he still has in his possession to his day, still, slowly but surely gathering my father's powers. I soon found out that Lucius was not doing this for my benefit, or for anyone else in the wizarding world. Lucius Malfoy wanted to become even more powerful that Lord Voldemort, so he would rise in power and be able to control the wizarding world.

My father recently found out about Lucius and how he betrayed him, but doesn't know what I've done to betray him. Once I realized what a horrible person my father was, I created this book. I moved far away from my father, making sure that I had no contact with him, and took this book with me. The book that you hold in your possession is a very powerful magical object, so I advise not showing it to any of your teachers. Through that book, everything that my father does is recorded, every murder he makes, kidnappings, everyone he hurts. It shows his location at times, and pictures when the vision is clear enough. I wanted to leave it with you, because he has your parents.

I've also left an enchantment on the book, so only the relatives of the people Lord Voldemort had captured can read the writings that appear in the book. The only reason I didn't make it only for you to see is because it is much easier for someone to break that spell, then the one I performed for you.

As for the reason your parents were kidnapped, I don't have enough time to explain, but you will soon find out. I can't help you with your goal anymore, for the risk of my father finding me is too great, but I will try to help you in any way possible. Send me an owl if you have any questions, sign your name anonymously and call me B.R. when addressing me.

I leave you here, you're a smart girl for many different reasons, and I know you can put this puzzle together. Good luck

Sincerely,

Ben. T. Riddle

Ginny dropped the parchment from her hands, and it slowly fluttered towards the table. "Hermione!" she said loudly, quickly lowering her tone. "This is," she said, not knowing what to say.

Hermione nodded her head, lost for words. "I know Gin, this is crazy. I'm not sure I understand completely but we have a lot of research and work to do."

Ginny nodded her head enthusiastically, then thought for a moment. "Hermione," Ginny said a smile creeping up to her lips. "What about your parents! They're alive!"

This time Hermione smiled, for the first time in a week. "I know," she said happily. "I know."

****