Splintered Destiny

Splintered Destiny

Part (1/?)

Hermione Jane Granger was upset, to say the least. She lay in bed, bushy hair fanning out against the pillow, and glared at her ceiling. Her hands clenched into fists around the sheets, and she idly wondered at the rather numerous ways in which she could kill, maim or at least grievously injure one Draco Malfoy. While some of these were undoubtedly crude, she still included them, determined to rub the proverbial salt in as of yet non-existent wounds.

A sound outside her door broke through her musings and had her bolting upright, reaching for her wand. Eyes glittering, she held her breath, squinting through the darkened room at dim light shining from underneath the door. Time seemed to slow to a sluggish pace, yet the pounding beat of her heart seemed to speed up. The contrast caught her attention vaguely, before the slow turning of the knob snapped her attention right back.

She tensed, kneeling on the bed, wand pointed at the door. It occurred to her that she was alone in the dorm, and while Hermione could have counted on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had wanted to stay with Lavender and Parvati before now, mentally she was raising that number to six. While she was sure that it was nobody who wished her harm, because she highly doubted that any Death Eater would sneak in to her room at some ungodly hour, she felt safer with her wand in her hand, stunning spell poised on her lips. Truth was, Dumbledore was dead, and Hogwarts was no longer safe because of those bloody snakes. Her lips curled into a snarl, and when the door swung open, her hand was steady.

"Hermione?"

The familiar voice had her relaxing, because really, where on earth would a Death Eater have gotten a hold of Harry Potter's hair? Suitably assured that it wasn't an impersonator using Polyjuice Potion, she lowered her wand, and clambering off the bed. Looking into dull green eyes, she closed her own, wishing for the days when they held the familiar sparkle.

"I need to tell you something."

Her eyes flew open, the sound of his haunted voice echoing through her. She looked at him, before nodding, leading him to her bed. Leaning against the pillow, she gave a fleeting thought to the distant memory of sleep before motioning for him to continue. Harry hesitated, mouth opening and then closing again as he struggled to find the words. Reaching out, she took hold of his hand, squeezing comfortingly. Looking at her gratefully, stumbling against the grief that threatened to consume, he managed to speak, his voice hoarse.

"Since the beginning of the year, D - Dumbledore," he paused at the name and Hermione's eyes dimmed in grief as he continued. "We, well, he showed me things. About his past - Voldemort's - when he was still Riddle, I mean."

The two sat on Hermione's bed while Harry spoke, unheeding of the passage of time, unaware of the slowly rising sun. Harry's words spun through her mind, mixing and jumbling into an incoherent mess. ...riddletommarylovepotionstupidwoman...orphancan'tfeelsorryforhimmonster...soulhorcruxesslytherinheirscuplocketring...potionkillingfirefireareyouawitchornotfirenolocketallfornothingrab...rosmertaandthedarkmarkandmalfoyandthengreybackruinedprofessorlupinslifeandsnape... oh, Harry...

Her eyes wide, she stared at him, speechless. Harry smiled humourlessly, eyes shadowed, but she could see a hint of relief in them. How did you keep this all to yourself before? He shrugged as if he had heard her unspoken question, and of course, maybe he had.

"What do we do now?" Looking surprised, but relieved at her use of the collective, he frowned.

"I don't know. I didn't have a plan, not exactly. But I couldn't keep it to myself anymore." He didn't need to ask her to keep it to herself, it was Hermione, not Lavender or Parvati (not that he would have ever confided in the two). At her questioning look, he sighed. "I didn't tell Ron."

Slightly confused, she shrugged. It was Harry's choice, after all. "We have to find the rest of them."

"I don't know where to start. We thought we'd had the locket, but somebody obviously got there before we did." Hermione nodded decisively.

"Then that's where we'll start. We need that locket, and for that, we need R.A.B. Whoever he is."

"I can't do this without you, 'Mione." She didn't have the heart to admonish him for the use of the hated nickname, but instead concentrated on his earlier statement, scoffing lightly.

"And what, Mr. Potter, may I ask, made you think that you would have to?"

"Ah, but there you are Miss Granger - I need you to think for me!"

They both smiled half-heartedly at each other, comforted by the fact that they could still joke, no matter how feeble their attempts were.

"Right. Er, are we going to be, well, are we telling Ron about this?" Hermione shrugged, looking at him calmly.

"It's up to you Harry." He sighed, lifting his hands to his face.

"I knew you were going to say that." The words, while muffled by the his hands were still audible, and she stifled a smirk.

"I thought I was supposed to be the know-it-all?" She merely blinked as he aimed a glare at her before he sighed again, looking slightly guilty.

"I want to tell him, really, I do - only, well, it's Ron." The last words were rushed out despairingly. "This has to stay secret, and well, he might let it slip. You know how he gets."

Biting her lip, she nodded. While she loved him like a brother she'd never had, she knew exactly how Ronald Weasley got when he was upset. Which, when considering the redhead's temper, was quite often. "We're going to have to work fast, then." She looked at Harry, searching.

"You're going to need to write down everything you can remember about the locket and the cup. What they looked like, how big they were, and if he ever said anything about what he thought the others might be. Try drawing them as well."

"And what are you going to be doing?"

"I'm going to find out exactly who this mysterious R.A.B is."

"It'll be impossible. How are you going to find someone with only initials to go on?"

Hermione shifted on the bed, looking pensive.

"Well, I have a timeframe to work with. Whoever it is, they had to have been alive after 1955, and born before 1970." At his questioning look, she explained briefly. "Well, it had to have been after he came into power the first time, and before he attacked you."

"But I wasn't born until 1980."

"I have doubts as to whether a ten year old could have stolen a horcruxe from under Voldemort's nose."

"'Suppose you're right."

"And since I'm assuming that R.A.B is a male, all I have to do is look through the yearbooks." Anticipating his next question, she continued. "He was a Hogwarts student, there's no other possibility."

"Hermione?"

"Yes Harry?"

"You're scary."

Silence reigned as the two sat contemplating each other. Finally, Hermione smiled.

"I know."