The Spaces Between Shadows & Night

by: Silver Prophet
the combined talents of:

"Do you regret it?"

At Harry's question, Hermione looked up from the Arithmancy chart she had been compiling. She looked puzzled at first, but when she noticed where Harry's gaze was directed, she shook her head.

Ron was sat with his youngest sibling, Ginny and Dean Thomas on the far side of the Common Room. Dean was talking earnestly about something, and Ron was staring into space, not really paying much attention. Ginny, however, was paying rapt attention to the fifth year Prefect.

Hermione spoke. "The only thing I regret is not punching him when I had the chance. Failing that, my knee connecting with his groin would have been just as good."

Harry grinned at this, an expression that looked ever so slightly morbid on his pale and drawn face. "You scare me sometimes," he told her.

The bushy-haired witch shrugged.

"I'm glad it happened," Harry told her, making her quirk her left eyebrow in interest. "I think I'd have felt more guilty if our friendship had just faded away, d'you know what I mean?" Hermione nodded.

"Yeah. But, Harry, we're never going to have that friendship again. Even if Ron does ever talk to us, the relationship we had with him is gone. Forever."

Harry took another look at Ron, before bowing his head. "I know."

Hermione pursed her lips, then nodded, before returning to her Arithmancy.

~~ ~~~ ~~

"Get out of my way, you little brats!"

Harry felt like her was the only person who looked up when Matilda Thistlebury started screaming at the first years in the Gryffindor Common Room. Looking around he saw that her raised voice had only attracted the attention of a few lower school students.

Hermione was still engrossed in a thick book, and didn't seem to notice that particular interruption, though she did look up from her studies when there was a loud bang from the direction of the Weasley twins.

"Can I borrow this?" Harry heard himself ask Dean Thomas, pointing at the latest copy of the Daily Prophet. Dean nodded, then went back to what looked like a complicated essay. On closer inspection, he wasn't writing, but drawing. It was a portrait of Seamus who was asleep in a nearby chair.

There wasn't even a mention of anything that could possibly related to the dark arts or Voldemort. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle at this. Something was wrong. Why wasn't anyone reporting on the Muggle killings?

He was still fretting over this at three o'clock in the morning. Eventually, Harry found himself getting out of bed and dressing, fumbling around in the darkness for his clothes. Careful not to trip over any of the mess in the dormitory, Harry made his way down to the Common Room. After reading a couple chapters of Hogwarts, a History, Harry didn't feel in the least bit tired and still kept thinking of Voldemort.

From what Harry could comprehend, there was only one solution. He needed to talk to someone.

Hermione was the obvious choice. She wasn't exactly a morning person either, but she listened, and that was what Harry needed now. Plus, she had, on occasion, called Voldemort by his proper name. Not wanting to be caught in the girls' dormitory, Harry collected his Invisibility Cloak before waking Hermione.

Standing outside the girls dormitory with 'Fifth Years' written on the door, Harry realised that he had never been in there, and therefore had no idea which was Hermione's bed. If the girls were anything like the boys Harry shared with, their curtains on their beds would be closed. I'll just have to guess I suppose.

Luckily, it didn't take very long for Harry to identify Hermione's bed. The enormous pile of books surrounding it, and piled on the trunk that stood at the end of it, notified Harry that it did indeed belong to his friend.

So not to disturb the other girls (one of whom snored quite loudly, though Harry couldn't tell which), he pulled back the curtain on the bed. Thankfully it was Hermione. She was sleeping on her side, facing Harry, a small smile playing on her lips. She looked... peaceful, unlike her troubled and world-weary waking self.

Harry shook her gently, whispering, "Wake up, Hermione."

Hermione squirmed, and rolled over, batting away Harry's arm. "Bugger off, Lavender. I don't care if Crookshanks ate your bloody face pack!" she muttered.

Harry snickered slightly at this, trying to imagine what happened. "It's Harry!" he hissed. Her eyes shot open and she sat up straight as though she had received an electric shock.

She glared sleepily at him. Harry realised that it must have been a shock being awakened by the dismembered head of your best friend. The cloak was rather suffocating, so Harry had pulled it so that it wasn't covering his head.

"What are you doing here," she demanded in a low whisper.

"I need to talk to someone."

"Can't it wait?"

"It's about Voldemort."

There was a spark of interest in Hermione's tired eyes, and Harry saw her glance quickly at the clock that stood by her bed, then at Harry's serious face. "Fine. Shall we go for a walk?"

Harry nodded. "Sounds fine."

"Good, I'll get dressed." Hermione stared at him, an expectant look on her face. She looked at Harry as though he was an idiot, then rolled her eyes. "That was your cue to wait outside," she hinted.

"Oh, right," Harry realised, feeling himself blush furiously. He stood outside the dormitory and Hermione emerged a few minutes later, still tying her hair into two braids either side of her head. She was dressed in warm clothes; a pair of faded jeans and a plum-coloured polo neck jumper.

"Ready," she announced.

Harry wasn't sure if Hermione was doing it on purpose or not, but they found themselves walking slowly around the lake.

The sun was still about an hour away from coming up, and so they walked in near-darkness on the dewy grass. Harry breathed deeply, inhaling the morning air. Was it just him, or did the air always seem fresher in the morning.

"So what did you want to talk about?" asked Hermione curiously.

"It's too quiet."

Hermione looked around. "I'd say it was 'pleasantly peaceful'." She looked at Harry, then continued. "But I'm guessing you didn't mean 'quiet' in the volume sense of the word." Harry shook his head.

"Why hasn't anyone noticed the things that Voldemort has done? I've seen Death Eaters kill Muggle families with magical offspring, yet they're never mentioned in the Daily Prophet." He asked this as though Hermione knew the answer.

"Maybe the Ministry is just biding its time," she suggested. "After all, our side is still trying to establish ourselves again."

"But wouldn't that make it the perfect time to strike? No opposition - the Ministry doesn't believe Dumbledore so no official action has been taken."

"He's been gone a long time, Harry," Hermione said. "He has scores to settle etc. His ranks aren't exactly bursting at the seams, either. Most of his Death Eaters are in jail or hold positions of importance. They can't just switch sides - people would start noticing."

"You think Voldemort's being subtle."

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose that's one way of putting it." She sighed loudly. "Harry, I don't know what you want me to tell you, but I can't tell you what's going to happen in the future, or how it's all going to turn out. I can only give you my opinion, and I don't think you'll like it."

"Try me." Hermione looked nervous at Harry's words, and she licked her lips with worry. She probably had reason to as well. Harry was still ill, that much was obvious, and there was a strange haunting look in his eyes that gave him the appearance of wisdom beyond his years. His voice had evidently returned to almost full strength, though it seemed deeper and more forceful than before.

But Harry didn't realise this.

As they walked, Hermione stared at the ground. "People are going to die," she said slowly. "People on his side are going to die. People on our side are going to die. It's not going to be pretty. It's a war, Harry and not everyone is going to survive."

She smiled at Harry nervously, an odd expression for someone who had been talking of death and destruction just a moment before.

"Do you want to change the subject?" Harry asked.

"I don't mind, Harry. You're the one who wanted to talk about this Harry, and I feel like I'm the only one talking."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Harry grinned half-heartedly. "So how's your flirting going? Has Seamus realised that you like him yet?"

Her face reddened visibly in the dim morning light. She stared wide-eyed at Harry, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. "How did you know it was Seamus?"

"I've seen you staring at him." She blushed even more, if that was possible. "I think he likes you," Harry added.

She stared open-mouthed at Harry, a panicked look in her eyes. "Harry... what did you say to him?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing much. I just asked what he thought of you."

"And?" Hermione sounded genuinely interested now, and Harry almost laughed at the expression on her face.

"He thought you like me! Honestly, Hermione, he doesn't believe for a second that you could like him."

"So he does like me!" She was practically skipping now. "Yes!" She punched the air, then seemed to realise what she was doing, and blushed. "Erm... I'm hungry. Do you want to get some breakfast?"

Harry checked his watch. "They don't start serving breakfast for another hour or so."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, are you being thick on purpose? We can go to the kitchens." She proceeded to drag him to the Hogwarts kitchen where the House Elves greeted them happily, and proceeded to serve them with more food than Harry though he would be able to eat in a day.

"What happened to SPEW?" he questioned as Hermione started on a bowl of muesli. She didn't even bother to correct him.

Instead she merely gave a slight shrug. "Harry, I have better things to do with my time than stand of House Elf rights. Like OWL's. Maybe next year I'll have another go."

That led the conversation onto their end of year exams. And anything else they could think of. Except Ron. That was the taboo subject. Neither even mentioned his name, not even in connection with the Weasley twins (Harry admitted to Hermione what he had done with his prize money. To his surprise, she was supportive of his decision).

~~ ~~~ ~~

Quidditch practice was held later that day. The pitch was completely waterlogged from the recent downpour, but luckily with Quidditch, the state of the pitch wasn't all that important as they game was played in the air.

"Nice of you to join us, Harry," Matilda said curtly, as Harry joined his teammates. Angelina was nowhere to be seen.

"Right, Angelina is in the Hospital Wing, so she's asked me to supervise this practice," Matilda announced.

"Why?" Harry head Seamus asked. Matilda gave the sandy-haired boy a scathing look.

"Someone," she explained, staring at Fred and George, "put a very strong itching powder in all of her clothes." The twins tried to look innocent, and Harry even saw George twiddle his thumbs as Fred looked towards the sky.

Matilda narrowed her eyes. "Right, you lot! Get up in the air and show me what you can do." There was a silence between the team. "That means now!" she ordered.

There was a flurry of activity as the Gryffindor Quidditch team clambered onto their brooms and rose into the air as Matilda released the balls.

After about half an hour of practice, Matilda called them back to the ground. She slowly walked around them, stopping behind the twins. "You two were really pathetic."

"We're tired!" protested Fred. "Going through Angelina's clothes is exhausting!"

"Especially her underwear," added George with a slight snigger. Matilda on the other hand didn't find it very funny. With a swift movement of her Cleansweep 7, she hit George in the back of the knees, and he fell to the ground, yelping in pain.

If Angelina had been cold hearted at practice, then Matilda had a heart of stone. It was nearly three hours before she called practice to a close, and by then the team was practically falling asleep in the air. Alicia and Katie were leaning on each other for support as they staggered back to the changing rooms, and Seamus couldn't stop yawning.

Harry decided to confront Matilda about her attitude.

"Why are you such a bitch?" he asked. His words surprised even him. Matilda laughed harshly.

"To understand that, Harry, you'd have to understand my life story."

"Try me."

She pursed her lips, brushing a lock of auburn hair from her face. "Fine. I live with my parents in Sussex. I'm the youngest of five and my favourite colours are green and purple. But that's beside the point. I started playing Quidditch in my second year of Hogwarts because I had an enormous crush on Oliver Wood."

Harry sniggered slightly at this, but Matilda ignored him.

"I was good, too. I was made a reserve and I became the Captain of the reserve team in my third year. I wanted to become a professional player until I discovered that I had terminal cancer."

Harry blinked. For once he wished that his voice would go again. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? This wasn't something that someone told you everyday, so how were you supposed to react?

Matilda surveyed Harry from beneath hooded eyes. Harry realised then that what he had thought to be a constant look of anger was in fact exhaustion. She looked older than her seventeen years for a moment for grinning at Harry wryly.

"Don't worry, mate. It's no secret, just don't go mouthing off about it, right?"

Harry nodded mutely, and she didn't give him a chance to reply before heading off towards the changing rooms.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Hermione eyed Harry cautiously, following his line of vision. "I guess she told you, then," she whispered, nodding in the direction of Matilda Thistlebury, where the seventh year was lying on a nearby bed, her eyes closed. She had already been in the Hospital Wing when Harry had arrived down there, and was asleep.

Harry raised a curious eyebrow. "You knew?"

"I asked her if something was wrong last year. She broke down in tears." She paused, biting her lip. "She was about to kill herself." Harry felt his eyes widen even more at this. He cast Matilda a quick glance.

Beside him, Hermione tugged her hair out of the braid that had restricted her hair during the day. "I'm betting she didn't tell you that."

"I don't know what to do around her," Harry admitted. "I mean, do I mention it, or ignore it or what?"

It seemed that Hermione wasn't entirely sure how to advise him on this. "Hmm. I think you'll know what to say when the time comes." She yawned loudly. "I'd better get back to the tower. I'm exhausted. Someone woke me up very early this morning." She looked pointedly at Harry, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Hermione grinned, then kissed Harry on the cheek. "G'night, Harry."

"G'night, Hermi."

Hermione left quietly so as to not wake any of the other patients.

Harry rested his head against the pillows, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to bring his potion to him.

"She's right, y'know."

Matilda was now lying on her side, staring at Harry, her brown eyes void of any emotion. "I did try to kill myself." In a quieter one, she added, "It wasn't the first time, either." There was an uneasy silence, before Matilda said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How much to do remember? I mean, about the night you... got your scar."

Harry swallowed. He hadn't really told anyone about this apart from a few select friends. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to share something as personal as those memories with someone he barely knew, but he found himself explained what he remembered.

"Just... flashes. Little pieces. It's like a jigsaw with some of the pieces missing. Why?"

The auburn-haired witch was silent for a moment. "It was raining. At least, it was where I was. It was my birthday, Halloween. We had a big party, a real family affair. And when my family do things, it's always big. At about eleven o'clock owls started flocking in." She smiled. "They were everywhere. At first I remember my dad fretting about the mess they'd made. Then the news broke."

Harry didn't have to ask what news she was on about, but she elaborated anyway as Harry swallowed the potion that Madam Pomfrey had laid wordlessly beside his bed.

"Lily and James Potter were dead. But little baby Harry was alive. And somehow, no one was quite sure how; Voldemort had been defeated when he had tried to kill you. I didn't really understand, so I asked my mum why she was crying. She told me that it was because she was very happy; a bad, bad man was gone and we were going to be safe. Then I asked my cousin why he was crying and he said it was because two of his best friends had died."

Harry felt something catch in his throat.

"No-one slept that night, except probably me. The most memorable thing though, was just after midnight. All the adults gathered in one room and raised their glasses to 'Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived'."

"You said your cousin lost two of his best friends," asked Harry after a moment, allowing this to sink in, and she nodded. "What's his name?"

Matilda gave Harry a look; it was as though she was looking into his soul, to see if he were worthy of this information. She must have decided he was, because she finally said, just before Harry slipped into a dreamless sleep, "Sirius Black."

~~ ~~~ ~~

In Potions, Harry and Draco (sorry, Malfoy) seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement. They were to communicate as little as possible unless there was an emergency. It seemed to be working pretty well for them both, as well. Less talking meant less insults, and in turn, less hurt feelings.

That was until Harry, who had been quietly working on the essay part of the project for Snape, heard a spell being cast.

In any other lesson, this wouldn't have been a problem, but this was Potions. The only spells that were ever cast were those to light and extinguish the fires used to heat cauldrons. The spell that Harry heard was most definitely not a fire spell, though.

"Serverum Haare."

Harry looked up, turning his head in the direction of the voice. It seemed to have come from the direction where Hermione was sat working with Alena. The two appeared to be discreetly passing notes to each other while working on their assignment, an invisibility potion.

It wasn't either of them that had spoken those two words, though. The voice had been male, which meant it was probably one of the two Slytherins behind Hermione and Alena.

Seeing as Blaise obviously wasn't male, Harry deduced that it had to be Goyle, whom she had been paired with.

Harry wrote the spell on a piece of parchment. "What does it do?" he asked Malfoy in a low voice, so as to not attract any unwelcome attention from Snape.

Malfoy studied the spell, then looked up at Harry. In a similar tone of voice, he said, "It's a hair cutting spell." He glanced at Harry's unruly hair, which was now at the longest it had ever been and would very soon need some sort of restraint. "But then again, I doubt if you or Granger would know how to use it."

His partner turned his attention back to the daisy roots he was cutting as Harry pondered this. Why would Goyle use a spell like that in Potions? The potion the class was working on did not require human hair, so there was no use for it.

Granger. Hermione.

Harry turned quickly towards Hermione. Hermione had a puzzled look on her ace. Cautiously she reached up to touch her hair. To her immense shock, she bought back a clump of her ponytail. She let out an unwilling shriek of horror, staring in distress at the hair that she held in her hand.

Alena's face was one of pure horror, and she was biting her lip. She looked quite pale, actually. Harry distinctly heard the Slytherin girl mutter several words that would probably have earned her a detention had any professor heard.

Snape strode quickly over to Hermione and Alena's desk. "What is the problem, Miss Granger?" He looked, if it were possible, absolutely delighted with her distress. Behind them, Harry could see Blaise and Goyle sniggering.

"M-my hair," Hermione managed to choke.

"I'd say it was an improvement," Snape sneered in his usual slimy way.

Hermione wasn't the only one who was shocked by this; Alena looked absolutely appalled and stared after Hermione as the Gryffindor fled the dungeon, tears building in her eyes. The black-haired girl cast Snape an evil glare before gathering her and Hermione's belongs and running out of the classroom after her.

"Where are you going, Miss Rhyson?"

"To see if she's all right!" Alena retorted over her shoulder, not even bothering to look at Snape. There was a commotion among the students as they all began whispering furiously about how a Slytherin was going to help a Gryffindor.

Harry noticed that Ron staring at Harry, a look on his face that told Harry he clearly blamed Harry for Alena's behaviour, even though Harry had nothing to do with it. Harry was just as shocked by this occurrence as everyone else.

"The next person to speak will be in detention for a month!" thundered Snape, a murderous look in his eyes.

Instantly, a hush fell over the classroom as students continued with their work, an occasional glance sent in the direction of either the desk where Hermione and Alena had been sat or where Harry and Draco were working.

A piece of parchment found its way onto Harry's work. It was the same piece that Harry had written the spell on, only now it had Draco's unmistakable handwriting on it.

Harry read the parchment, then looked at Malfoy who sent him what could only be described as a reassuring smile. Then again, Harry had never seen Malfoy with a genuine smile on his face, so he couldn't be sure.

For probably the first time ever, Harry believed him.

~~ ~~~ ~~

Harry was in the Gryffindor Common Room studying for Herbology when he next saw Hermione. She had been absent from the Gryffindor table at lunch (so had Alena, Harry had noticed), and after lunch Harry had been in Divination.

When she stepped through the portrait hole, Harry hardly recognised her. Her hair, which had reached midway down her back, was now cut to just above her shoulders and seemed slightly more curly than frizzy.

She spotted Harry and headed over in his direction, trying to ignore the whispers that were clearly about her. Hermione sank into a chair next to Harry, a scowl across her face. "Don't say anything," she warned.

"It looks nice," Harry tried to reassure her.

Hermione still wasn't convinced, and continued to pull a heavy book out of her bag. Her bag must have been enchanted, because the book was much too big to have fitted in there as well as the other books Hermione carried around.

Seeing as she obviously didn't want to talk, Harry continued reading his book. It was a chapter on Mandrakes. Professor Sprout, the Herbology professor and Head of Hufflepuff house, kept hinting that mandrakes were going to come up on their OWL's. Even though OWL's were months away, Harry had already started revising. It would mean less work just before the exams.

The click of a camera made Harry look up. Colin Creevey, a fourth year Gryffindor who seemed to have a camera permanently attached to his face, was staring at Harry, his camera in his hands. He took another picture of Harry and Hermione.

Hermione frowned. "What are you doing, Colin?" she asked evenly.

Colin lowered his camera. "Taking some pictures. Some Ravenclaws want to make a school newspaper and they've asked me to be the photographer," he explained.

"Why are you taking pictures of us?" asked Harry.

"Well, you're Hogwarts best known couple." Colin said this as if it were obvious.

"We're not a couple," Harry and Hermione said simultaneously.

"Honestly, Colin, me and Harry have no romantic feelings for each other," continued Hermione, looking to Harry for support. Harry nodded in agreement.

The younger boy didn't look convinced. "Prove it," he challenged. The two fifth years looked at each other helplessly. How on earth were they supposed to prove something like that?

Hermione stood up, a determined look on her face. "Right, I will." She strode purposely over to where the other fifth years were sat. Before Harry could say anything, she had straddled Seamus's lap and was kissing him. Seamus was shocked, but then clearly began to enjoy it.

There was a cheer from the other students, and Harry could hear Colin's voice saying, "Harry, Harry! Harry!"

He closed his eyes. This was giving him a headache. "Harry!" Colin wasn't giving up. When Harry opened his eyes, everything was back to normal. Colin was indeed standing in front of him, but his camera had its lens cover securely in place. Hermione was still sat next to him, her book across her lap and a puzzled look on her face.

"I think you fell asleep," she told him.

"I really hope so," Harry muttered.

~~ ~~~ ~~

It appeared that Matilda's gruesome training sessions really paid off. Angelina Johnson had been confined to the Hospital Wing on several more occasions since the itching powder incident because of other Weasley-twin related incidents. Because of this, Matilda had taken over quite a few Gryffindor practices.

They won their first match against Hufflepuff in just a couple of hours. The final score was 370 - 40. Hufflepuff's new Seeker seemed to be having a tough time filling Cedric Diggory's shoes. She was a petite girl in her third year, and while Harry openly admitted that she was a good player, she was incredibly nervous. But, that was to be expected. Not only was it her first match, but the player she had replaced had died the previous year.

Cedric had been killed by Lord Voldemort. Dumbledore had made no secret of this, and the entire student body knew. The sombre attitude of the Hufflepuff's showed that they still mourned him, whether they had known him well or not.

The match had been fun. Without a real challenge from the opposing Seeker, Harry had been able to relax considerably. Lee Jordan, a friend of the twins, was commentating as usual. His quick-witted comments and obvious admiration of Harry's Firebolt (still the best broom on the market) had provided a very pleasant atmosphere.

This pleasant atmosphere was in no way mirrored in the dormitory of the fifth year boys in the Gryffindor tower.

The atmosphere between Harry and Ron was frosty to say the least, and the other three boys all had their own agendas:

Seamus had openly declared his support for Harry (though Harry suspected that this had more to do with Hermione than himself), making him Ron's 'enemy'.

Seeing that Seamus wasn't going to be on his side, Ron had pestered Dean and Neville to swap beds with him, not wanting to be next to Harry. Dean had told Ron that, while he thought Ron was partly right, he wasn't going to give up his bed for anyone or anything. He said that this was because it was right next to the window and he got too hot at night.

Neville on the other hand had completely refused. This had surprised Harry as well as Ron as Neville wasn't known for being so assertive. He wasn't taking sides, and had told both of them that.

The situation was the same with the Weasley's who were at Hogwarts. Ron and Ginny openly refused to acknowledge Harry and did their best to stay away from him and Hermione. The twins were on Harry's side. They had even offered to use some of their products on Ron (Harry had turned down this offer. He wasn't into the revenge thing). Bill was the objective one, staying out of the argument altogether.

Harry could even feel the tension in his dormitory at night when the others were asleep. This was why he was glad of his midnight walks.

"Why did she do it?"

Malfoy was silent as the two fifth years prowled along the Charms corridor. After a moment he spoke. "Alena is... different than other Slytherins. She refuses to believe in the stereotypes of the other houses."

"Then why are you friends with her?"

"Because it's refreshing, for lack of a better word. I've spent my entire life hearing the same old rants about Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws - it's good to hear someone else's opinions." He paused slightly. "Did you know she's the only Slytherin who can get away with calling you by your given name?"

"Why's that?"

"Because she's Alena," was Malfoy's reply to this. "She has a way of making people see things differently. Anyway, you admitted yourself that you were almost put in Slytherin."

Harry frowned. "But I chose to be in Gryffindor. Shouldn't that make me the enemy?"

"Our choices make us who we are, I suppose."

The Gryffindor had a strange feeling of dejá vu - hadn't someone said something like that to him before?

Malfoy continued as they rounded a corner. "Alena brought up a good point, too. If Granger wasn't a Muggleborn she'd be a perfect Slytherin."

Harry raised a dark eyebrow at this. "How so?"

"She's powerful, ambitious, intelligent, cunning," he hesitated slightly, "ruthless."

For a moment Harry was a little amazed at this. Hermione as a Slytherin? Then he saw Hermione as the Slytherin's must have seen her; a force to be reckoned with. He could see the truth in Malfoy's words.

"Don't tell anyone I complimented the Mudblood, especially her," Malfoy warned, the coldness returning to his voice.

"Because it would ruin your reputation?"

"No, because she'd gloat."

~~ ~~~ ~~

Looking around the Great Hall, Harry said, "This is how Hogwarts should be all the time." The Great Hall was practically devoid of life, even though it was breakfast. It was the first day of the Christmas holidays, and very few people had remained at Hogwarts.

Himself and Hermione were the only Gryffindors who had stayed; there were half a dozen Hufflepuffs, about ten Ravenclaws and just two Slytherins - Malfoy and Alena.

Hermione looked up from her copy of the Daily Prophet and nodded. "It's nice, isn't it?"

The post owls arrived in the Great Hall and there were considerably less of them than there were normally. One landed in front of Harry and Hermione, carrying a large parcel and a letter. The letter was addressed to both of them.

"I think it's from Mrs Weasley," Hermione said, examining the envelope.

"Why would she be writing to us?" asked Harry with a slight scowl. Hermione shrugged. She was as much in the dark about this as he was.

Opening the envelope carefully, Hermione quickly read the letter. Her face darkened into a scowl. "It is from Mrs Weasley." She cleared her throat and began to read.

"Looks like we were invited to spend Christmas with the Weasleys," she said, folding up the letter.

"I don't think dear old Ron has the heart to tell his mother we're not friends," Harry commented dryly.

"She'd be heartbroken," Hermione said. She quickly had another look at the letter. "Seems like she thinks we're a couple as well."

"I wonder what he's been telling her?" Harry asked. He sighed, then glanced at the parcel that held their Christmas presents from the Weasleys. "Do we open it or send it back?"

Hermione considered this for a moment. "Open it," she declared. "We're not friends with Ron. That does not include his parents."

He could see her point. Ron and Ginny were the only ones who had fallen out with Hermione and himself. That didn't go for the rest of the Weasley's.

The parcel contained two Weasley jumpers (red for Harry, deep purple for Hermione) and a box of fudge.

"We should write a thank you note," said Hermione, staring at her new jumper. Harry nodded his agreement.

"Should we tell her about the situation with Ron?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nah. That's Ron's duty."

~~ ~~~ ~~

Silence. Harry thought he was going to enjoy having the dorm room to himself for a couple of weeks. This was apparently not going to be the case.

It was strangely quite without Neville's light snores, the sound of Dean constantly moving and the heavy breathing from Seamus's bed that showed he was still alive. When Seamus was asleep, nothing could wake him short of blowing a trumpet in his ear.

Harry couldn't sleep. Checking his watch, he saw it was a little after ten. He had gone to bed at half past nine, telling Hermione that he was tired. He had been tired, but now he was as wide awake as ever.

Eventually Harry did managed to doze off. It wasn't a peaceful sleep, however.

Harry's eyes snapped open. His pillow was damp beneath his head. Hermione was kneeling beside his bed, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, Harry!" she cried.

"What happened?" gasped Harry, trying to sit up.

Hermione could barely answer him. "You were screaming," she managed to choke out. "And, and I came in here and you just kept screaming and I couldn't wake you." She was trembling. "I was calling your name and you wouldn't wake up! Oh, Harry! I was so worried."

"He killed a baby," Harry whispered. Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with a shaking hand. She shook her head as though she couldn't believe it. "I think the baby was a Muggleborn," Harry continued. "It was called Benjamin."

"D-do you want t-to see Dumbledore?" Hermione stuttered, clearly in shock about this terrible event.

Harry nodded. He had to report this.

~~ ~~~ ~~
TBC
~~ ~~~ ~~