Love's Greatest Sacrifice

Hermione Granger tossed restlessly in her four-poster bed. She had been a sixth-year at Hogwarts for three months already, but now it didn't feel like the home it had always been to her. So much... fear seeped through the hallways. Suspicion and panic surrounded every conversation.

She turned uneasily onto her other side, facing the window. It hadn't been easy for her. Everyone who knew her as a friend now looked mournfully in her direction; most likely assuming that she, being muggle-born, would be next in line to get slaughtered. Ron was, if possible, worse about it. He seemed on the verge of tears every time he looked at her. It made her so uncomfortable, thinking that she was causing him such pain. Harry, on the other hand, seemed beyond expressible pain. Harry had told Ron and Hermione over the summer several things that had left her shaken. Although anything he said had come out it tiny, shocking declarations. She and Ron had somehow pieced together what he was implying, and had managed to conclude one thing. There was something that Harry's mother had done to protect him from Voldemort, and they discovered they could get more revealing, sarcastic fragments of the story every time they accidentally mentioned the war around him. However, Ron and Hermione wordlessly agreed never to purposefully bring it up in hopes of getting information. And ever since Harry had cracked the porcelain mug he'd been holding during one of these outbursts, they hadn't accidentally brought it up either.

After days of trying to offer solace, Hermione had finally agreed that it was useless and only succeeded in pushing Harry away from them. She and Ron knew he wanted to be alone, but they were weary of leaving him out as well. He seemed to be seething when they were trying to be around him, and seething when they were trying to not be around him. So, not being satisfied with sitting twenty feet apart from him in complete silence, Ron and Hermione had taken to having their less rigid conversations with eachother when Harry was asleep. It was funny, Hermione thought, how they had to sneak around like they were cheating on Harry in order to express their friendship.

Despite the general mood of the chats, Hermione had felt they were a great comfort. Ron was a great comfort. Even though he could never really put on the brave face he was always struggling to wear around her, he always made her feel safer. He made her strong.

Amongst these lovely thoughts, Hermione felt a sudden chill. A deep, penetrating chill that seemed to engulf her. She opened her eyes and clambered over to the foot of her bed. She softly pulled a wool blanket off of the top of her trunk, then, feeling as if the temperature had suddenly dropped ten degrees, she reached for two more.

My goodness, she thought. She rolled out of bed and proceeded in the semi-darkness towards the window, following the subtle moonlight to locate it. At each step, the temperature seemed to drop.

Shivering violently, Hermione reached the window and found it to be closed. She quickly glanced in the direction of her fellow dorm members, none of whom seemed to have noticed the temperature shift. In fact, Parvarti Patil had thrown off her sheet. Staring at her own arm, Hermione was shocked to find it nearly blue and covered in goose pimples. She casually peered down at her roommate's golden skin, which was completely free of bumps.

Frowning in confusion, Hermione climbed back into bed with five extra blankets; within seconds, she was awoken by a strange, blood-curdling whisper. Hermione bolted up in her bed, and squinted in the darkness for the source. Scanning her roommates beds, she found no trace of suspicious behavior. it wasn't until her eyes had reached the foot of her bed, that she nearly screamed.

A boy. An unrecognizable, iridescent boy. His features were soft and fuzzy, as if she were looking at him through a vaseline lens. She sat, gaping in horror, as he slowly glided around her bed. He didn't look like a ghost really. He looked almost solid, but at a different glance, he looked composed of smoke. He was a glowing blue.

Hermione froze. Partially out of fear, and partially out of real cold. The room felt to be at least twenty degrees, and as he approached, the temperature dropped even further. Hermione knew she should run. She knew she should scream, or get her wand. Her brain knew this, but her body would not move. She was almost transfixed by this boy. Suddenly, the specter swooped down on her and gathered her face in his icy hands. Hermione's heart nearly stopped as he bent down and kissed her on the lips.

Although his lips and breath were Arcticly cold, Hermione felt as if her entire body was on fire. Every inch of her was warmed shockingly from this embrace. Her heart filled with excitement and her fingers tingled. There was however, one thing inside her heart that she couldn't identify. Amongst all the warmth, all the happiness, she felt something... wrong. Something terribly wrong. But Hermione somehow knew it wasn't the blue boy himself, it was something he had brought with him. Then, having been drawn out of the trance by the uneasy feeling, she suddenly realized what was taking place and with small scream, pulled away from him.

She blinked, and he was gone with a puff of smoke.

Hermione sat, panting, in the room that was no longer cold. Nothing made sense. She knew she wouldn't be going back to sleep of course. All she could do was stare at the slowly brightening skyline through the frosty window, milling over something she could not explain in the least.