Hogwarts, A New History

Memories are eternal,

The soul is everlasting,

And love will always prevail.

Hermione found it hard to sleep that night. She couldn't even go back to Gryffindor Tower, fearing to witness something else terrible. She stayed in a broom closet on the second floor, with Draco against the wall beside her. Neither of them spoke. Hermione was too shocked to speak. She had seen Dumbledore do great things that seemed almost inhuman. It struck her now that with as old as he was, she had never even suspected death to be a part of his life; in her mind's eye, he was immortal. How could he possibly be dead?

Instead of sleeping, she wept. She wept because the wizarding world had lost a great man, maybe one of the greatest men there ever was. Draco had dozed off for a while, shaking in his slumber but when he woke up he just stared at the wall in front of him. With her lighted wand, she saw his eyes dead of emotion; he was stunned.

At two in the morning, he finally uttered a noise. They looked at each other and Draco sighed heavily. "What should we do now?" he croaked, his voice breaking. Hermione simply shook her head.

"Filch will probably find us," he said. "We'll get in trouble."

"What does it matter?" Hermione asked, turning to him. "What are we supposed to do about what's going on?" Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she looked down again. "Professor Dumbledore was always the only one who knew exactly what was happening when no one else did," she whispered. "He solved everyone's problems. He didn't deserve whatever happened to him. What should we do?"

Draco avoided her eyes. His inner guilt had been devouring him for hours. Could this be his father's work and Voldemort's? Maybe if he'd given Dumbledore the veritasirum and gotten the information for his father, this wouldn't have happened. After all, he knew that his father had been planning to use Dumbledore for more of his work with Voldemort.

A memory came to Draco's mind of his childhood. At that time the manor was so large and tall to Draco, the hallways monstrous. He was five. His father stood at the other end of the hall, beckoning to him. A cold sneer crossed his face that Draco used to confuse with a warm smile at that age. Lucius led him into a vaulted room, and chains were dangling from the ceiling.

His father bent down to Draco's height, crouching on his heels, and took Draco's right hand. "Do you love me, little Draco?" he had asked. He had nodded timidly. His father smacked him with force, glowering. "No, Draco, you shouldn't! Clearly you have learned nothing I've taught you."

Lucius brought back his smile, which flickered. "Do you respect me?" Thinking it was a trick question, Draco said 'no.' His father stood up and towered over him. "You're already a fool. You will learn to respect me."

He'd grabbed Draco around the waist and put him in the crook of his arm while using his other to attach a shackle to one of Draco's ankles; then he put the other shackle in place.

Draco hung upside down from the ceiling, beginning to cry. "Don't cry, Draco! No!" His father left him hanging for three hours before finally letting him down. Draco's head was pounding like it would explode and his forehead was a sickening blue color. He fell down as soon as his father had put him on the ground and sprained his ankle. While Lucius smirked, Draco shot him a look of contempt. He would never respect him, but realized he would be forced to obey him.

Similar punishments and tests had followed, each more vile and cruel than the next, until Draco reached the age of consideration. Then he learned how to please Lucius properly, even though he didn't feel the same inside. Lucius taught him more useful things after that, like how to manipulate people, and a collection of dark spells. He learned how to conceal his feelings, and threaten.

Draco now realized that Hermione was watching him curiously. "What's wrong?" she asked worriedly.

"Oh. N-nothing." He looked down at the clenched fists resting on his knees. Yes, his childhood had not been a happy one. Is that why he was such a jerk? Or was it truly Malfoy ruthlessness?

."Draco, what should we do? Nobody's going to believe us. And Dumbledore won't ever come back."

"Shut up!" he said fiercely. "I don't know any more than you do, so quit asking me!"

Hermione looked at him angrily before bolting out of the closet. But she should have realized he wasn't ready for her to ask such questions. He was still remembering things that he'd wanted to forget. How his mother had shouted at him since he was little, complaining loudly when he cried. How his father expected everything of him and never gave any praise.

He remembered one night when he'd fallen off his broom during practice on the grounds and was unconscious in his bed. He woke up slightly, little enough that Lucius didn't notice. He looked deep into his those cold gray Malfoy eyes and could see all his father's thoughts. He wanted Draco's youth, after wasting so much of his. There were worries over the manor, bills, and discovery of his secret Dark Arts collection by the Ministry. He saw the resentment of Narcissa for being a bit too gentle, for having some muggle-born companions. He could see that his father really did love him (in a demented sort of way), and was only trying to give him the best, however bitter and twisted his opinion of 'the best' might be.

But there had also been a hatred hidden in those eyes; hatred towards Draco's countless humiliations in front of their guests, how he didn't learn fast enough for his contentment, how he seemed to hide something all the time. Draco didn't care if his father loved him at all; he'd ruined his life.

Silently Draco rose and peaked out a crack in the door. No Filch, no Hermione.... no nobody. He'd suspected that the teachers would be lurking around in the corridors for any unusual activity, as they normally did when a crisis befell Hogwarts, but as he headed for the common room he found no one. It was almost unnerving, as if the whole population of the school had vanished overnight.

Shivering slightly, he came into the common room, which was eerie in the early morning twilight. The fire in the hearth was burnt down to glowing embers and the tall-backed chairs sent dancing shadows on the hard floor. Draco shivered again. Although he didn't see anyone, he was sure he was being watched.

Silently he made his way to the dormitory room, when one of the draperies rustled beside him. Casting a look over his shoulder, a man's shadow materialized in the room. Draco knew whom it belonged to immediately and backed away in surprise.

Lucius Malfoy was in the one of the chairs against the wall. "F-father!" Draco gasped.

His father stood up and walked towards his son, eyes snapping in fury. "So. You have decided that defiance is the best way to deal with me?"

Play dumb, Draco told himself, forcing his face into a puzzled look. Don't prompt him. "What do you mean?"

"Dumbledore!" Lucius roared. "You hadn't told me that he's been mysteriously missing! I told you to keep me updated on the old fool and what he does!"

Draco swallowed a lump in his throat, his heart thumping in his chest. How did Father even know? Draco could tell from his father's eyes that this wasn't one of his tedious rants, but an uproar where Draco was punished severely. "He hasn't been gone that long, Father. McGonagall assured us all that he was at the Ministry."

"You should have known he is not! Use your sense boy, he's been gone three days now!" His father rumbled. "I had to travel all the way up here in the middle of the night, hoping to get some information from you!"

Draco wouldn't let Lucius see he was afraid. He held his chin up stubbornly and replied "You never gave me orders for anything."

"I shouldn't have to by now!"

"Oh yeah?" Draco spouted out angrily. "And if I'd acted on my own, then I would be flogged for not obeying you first, wouldn't I?"

Lucius raised his hand and smacked Draco so hard it sent him reeling to the floor. "Don't speak to me that way! You are nothing but a little fool. I would think you don't share any of my blood. I regret ever taking the time to train you."

"No, you don't. You just say that so I'll beg you for forgiveness."

Lucius whirled on him once more, eyes bulging. "What?!"

"You want me to ask for your forgiveness because you know I'm the only one who can accomplish anything." He sneered. "Face it old man, you're the one who's worthless."

His father was silent for a long time as he looked at the floor. "You might be right, Draco." He finally said coldly. "I do need you to do my bidding anymore, don't I?" He bent down to Draco on the floor. "But you don't dare defy me anymore, because you know I can- and will destroy you if you backstab me."

Draco gulped. This time, his father was dead serious. Then he said something else that set his father off. "I don't understand why it's so important."

"Damn, child, can't you put two and two together? Don't you even remember our little discussion? My letter that came with your package?"

Draco frowned. "What letter?" He'd never gotten a letter lately, not since he'd talked to Lucius personally.

"The letter that came a few days ago! And our talk, about what I need Dumbledore for. Draco," he looked him straight in the eye. "Don't you remember me telling you that I needed you to question Dumbledore on his informs at the Ministry using the truth potion? I need to know who knows what about the Dark Lord. The Ministry is very uneasy right now."

Draco stared at him blankly, not recalling any such thing. Lucius went on, pacing. "There's also been some very strange magic levels recorded in the air. I must get to the bottom of it or the Ministry will be having fits and searching all residences again." He turned back to Draco and shot him a severe look. "You, he said, "just try to keep your grades up and your mouth shut. I'm not sure how many Slytherin families we can trust anymore."

Lucius began to flicker, and Draco just now realized him to be a projection. Sudden inspiration came to him and he called out to keep his father there. "Father!" The image of the man turned. "When did you send me a letter? What date?"

"Three days ago, October 30^th." Lucius looked at him peculiarly. "Why?"

Draco couldn't answer that question, but the date explained it all. "Just- just asking."

Lucius frowned deeper. "Alright then." And the vision of him flickered and died in shadow.

The next morning Harry woke up with heavy eyes and a metallic taste in his mouth. He was still rubbing his eyes when he realized that his velvet curtains facing the window had been drawn back, and the cold November sunlight was thrown on his bed.

He'd been dreaming. The more he tried to remember as he sat cross-legged on his bed, the less he could recall. All he remembered was a flash of light, something whispering and then blackness. He ran a hand through his dark hair, and then dismissed the dream. It didn't matter.

He didn't hear any movement in the room. Was no one awake yet? Then who'd opened his curtain? Slowly he rose from his bed and looked out into the dormitory room. Nobody stood in the midst of the room; he saw nothing moving but the deep red drapes. Frowning, he went to Ron's bed and drew back the curtain.

The bed was empty.

Involuntarily, Harry drew back and fell against the floor. Then he hit himself angrily. Stupid, he told himself. You probably woke up late and they're at breakfast. With effort he got up, noticing his sleeve was torn from the post. He dressed grumpily and rushed into the common room.

"Morning Harry!" piped Colin Creevey, who came rushing up to him. " Hey Harry! How ya doin', Harry?"

Harry wanted to push him down, but instead just walked around the boy. "Leave me alone," he croaked, wanting to find Ron and Hermione. He forced himself to stomp down the stairwells and the endless corridors. Fred caught him before he fell down the marble staircase. "Hey, watch it, Harry!" he scolded. "You could have been trying to hug me!"

"Sorry," he mumbled tiredly. Fred gave him an awkward pat on the back, which nearly sent Harry falling again, but he managed to keep his balance by gripping the rail. It took forever, but he finally managed to get into the Great Hall.

Ron he spotted immediately, his vivid red hair standing out from other heads. Hermione he didn't see, but made his way to the table anyway.

"It's about time you got up, you lazy lout!" Ron started angrily. "I was thinking of throwing my shoe at your face-"

"Oh shut up," Harry interrupted crossly. "I don't think I got a wink of sleep last night."

Ron shrugged in reply and gnawed viciously on a sausage. Harry felt sick to his stomach.

"Oh, go on, Harry!" Ron said when Harry just stared at his plate. "Have some toast, mate!"

Harry grabbed his stomach. "I think I'm gonna be sick!" Before Ron could stop him, Harry rushed out of the hall with his hand covering his mouth. He collided into a restroom door and kicked open one of the stalls, and his sickness fell into the toilet. Shuddering, he took in great gasps of air, his breath rasping.

He came out of the bathroom wiping his mouth, and nearly ran into Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy sneered in a way he hadn't for a while. "Morning sickness, Potter? What are you, pregnant?" He chuckled as Harry fumed.

"What, you're pregnant Harry?" said a first year Slytherin boy and laughed alongside Draco.

A panic struck Harry for a moment. If anything was possible in the wizarding world, then could a male get pregnant? He glared at Draco and took off, thinking. No, he was being silly again. How in the world would he get pregnant if he hadn't done anything to get pregnant?

Draco made his way down the rest of the corridor to the library, where he was sure to find Hermione. Silently he opened the oak door and slipped inside.

Sure enough Hermione's head could just be seen above the large stack of books piled on the table. He made his way over there.

"Morning," he whispered with a grin as he sat down next to her.

Hermione turned to him with a glare, narrowed her eyes, and then went back to her work. "Hey," he said, but she scooted her chair away from him.

He took out a piece of paper from his pocket and offered it to her. "An apology card, for last night," Draco explained.

She stared down at the grimy piece of parchment. On it the words 'I'm Sorry!' were scratched largely and roughly. Below it was a hastily drawn picture of Draco pleading, from what she could tell. "Is that... crayon???" she asked, pointing to the picture. "Why is your left eye up on your forehead?"

He looked hurt, then jumped up and yelled, "Okay, okay!!!! So maybe it's not one of those fancy-shmancy glossy cards that's all nice, that you jump onto your dining table and hold high above your head in the light for all to see and admire, but it's got heart, damn it, and in the end isn't that what really counts???"

The library had gone silent, and Draco just now realized how loudly he'd been yelling. Madam Pince was standing behind her desk looking as if steam were about to shoot from her ears. "Oh," he started, embarrassed. "Hello!" He gave a tiny little wave to Madam Pince and began to cautiously sit back down-

"Mr. Malfoy!!!!" Madam Pince boomed. Her hands on top of the desk were trembling with fury.

He swallowed. "Um. Yes?"

"You are- banned- from this library for the rest of the month!!!!"

Glad to get off with only a ban, Draco quickly replied "Oh. Alright then!" and hurried out as fast as he could go. He didn't see Hermione shaking with laughter at the table.

Harry was whispered around all day; clearly the joke of him being pregnant had spread around the school by lunchtime. Ron had assured him earlier that there was no way he could get pregnant. "At least not with current magical developments, anyway," he'd said. Still, it hadn't stopped people from taunting him all day in the corridors, and Harry was glad to get away from them all after dinner.

But he ran into the person he'd least wanted to on a day like this: Cho Chang.

"Try to be more careful, Harry!" she said when he walked into her.

To his further embarrassment, he tripped over her shoe as she helped him up. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered as he got up, avoiding her gaze because his face was turning with red.

"It's ok," she replied tiredly. "I expect you've had a bad enough day as it is."

Harry looked up in awe. "Yeah, you're right." She wasn't going to make fun of him? "Thanks," he said with a grin. She smiled back and swept past him, and Harry felt his knees weakening.

"Ah, not again!" came Fred's voice as Harry fell into him. "What's wrong with you today? George, I think he's fallen in love with me!"

The other twin snickered as he pulled Harry off of Fred. "Lover boy, you'd better try not to fall with that little bundle of joy there," he said, poking Harry's stomach.

Furious again, Harry took off for the opposite staircase as the twins walked away, howling with mirth.

He stomped on each of the steps on his way up to let off his anger. The torches along the walls were burning low up here, the air chilly. He wrapped his arms around himself to avoid shivering.

Something invisible swept over him, making his robes part and his hair stand on edge. Harry caught a whiff of something on the air, smelling like incense. It burned his nostrils and he sneezed. Was something burning? A crash in the distance made him even more curious, and he went off in that direction.

Silence filled the corridor again, broken only by his footsteps on the carpet. Now Harry noticed the torches burning even lower, and he could only think of one thing that made the lights go out; dementors. The familiar coldness unnerved him, and he wondered how they would've gotten in.

Now he heard soft thumps, like someone was knocking on the walls. Swiftly he hurried after the sound. There'd been so many incidents lately of strange noises in the castle, and now he was determined to get to the bottom of it. Then again, it could just be Peeves.

The noises led him into an antechamber with bare walls. The high ceiling was dripping dirty water onto the rough flagstone floor. The walls held numerous archways like train tunnels, and a smell of decay reached Harry's nose. Rusty chains hung from the ceiling, coated with the water. Harry had never seen this room, but figured it was a special kind of torture chamber probably used before Filch's time.

The chamber held no torches or candles, but a faint light from somewhere revealed the years of grime along the walls. The sound of retreating footsteps to his left brought him back to the present. He didn't see anyone, but the sound of the footsteps betrayed them entering a nearby archway. Despite himself, Harry called out "Hello?"

The steps paused for a moment, but as soon as Harry moved they quickened their pace. Harry went after them. The tunnel beyond the archway had a low ceiling and was even darker than the antechamber. Halfway down the tunnel he stopped, having stepped in something sticky. "Ewwww!" Lifting his shoe up, he smelt blood. He'd stepped in a puddle of thick, coagulated blood.

Breathing hard, Harry began to panic. "What is this place?" he whispered.

A crash next to him made him jump. He whirled around and met a pair of blank gray eyes before everything went black.

It was black. She stood in the middle of a dark pit, feet rooted to the floor. A bright light shone on her from an unseen place, cold and blinding. "Hello?" she called nervously. "Harry? Ron?" Her voice was muffled by the darkness. "Where did everyone go?"

The ground came out from under her and she fell through the tunnel. It seemed to go on forever until at last she landed hard on her collarbone. Waves of pain washed over her and brought tears to her eyes. At last when she could look up, nothing around her had changed. The blackness still swallowed her, but now the light was different. It seemed further away. Squinting, she looked into the distance.

Something was coming closer. A humming filled the air around her, growing louder and deeper. What was it? "Hello?" Nothing answered, but it was coming even closer, and she feared being trampled by something.

A ball of light appeared in front of her, and she found herself mesmerized by its brilliance. Tiny beads of golden light continuously zoomed around its spherical shape like electrons to an atom. The tiny light fascinated her, and she managed to hold herself back from foolishly touching it.

She flinched unwillingly when it jiggled and flickered. A popping noise flooded the atmosphere and the ball began to spin in place, it's color wrapping around it like clouds. And in the middle of it, Hermione found the answer to the question that lay deep in her heart.

Through a clearing in the clouds, Hermione saw the form of Draco Malfoy.

Harry's head filled with a terrible ache as he came back to consciousness. It felt as if the bone has split, but he knew that wasn't right.

"Well, it's about time you came to."

Bleakly, Harry recognized the voice. He groaned with the effort of lifting his head and opening his eyes.

He was still inside the one of the chambers off of the antechamber, but now it was filled with the light of a torch hanging on the opposite wall. Cleaning off his glasses, he scanned the room, and he met eyes with the same as last time.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Draco sneered in his unique way. "Oh, this is where I come to cry," he said sarcastically. "No Harry, I'm here because we needed someplace private."

What do you mean?" Harry gasped as Draco stepped closer.

In a flash of steel, Draco withdrew a knife and slit Harry's wrist. As he cringed in pain, the other boy laughed mercilessly. Harry peered into his eyes. They were dead of emotion. Harry's eyes widened with fear as he stared at this zombie. Draco's manner was normal, but his fingers that he raked along Harry's hand now were cold as the grave. The boy looked down again, producing a vial from his robes. He held it loosely by Harry with one hand, and with the other wringed Harry's hand of the blood into it.

"Stop it!" Harry exclaimed.

Draco laughed. "Why? Are you in pain?"

Harry glared back at him. "You're- not very nice."

His eyebrows raised in disappointment. "Not very nice?"

"I'm sorry, I thought that sounded better than twisted, sadistic little demon git."

He laughed again. "I really don't care what you think of me, Potter. You'll be dead soon and the world will be rid of your filth." He shook the vial of blood tauntingly at Harry, then rose and walked away.

Draco stood still in the middle of the room as Harry leaned against the wall for support. Then he turned back in Harry's direction. "It'll be more interesting if you can see this, really," he commented, grinning insanely.

From the other side of his robes, Draco pulled out another tiny vial full of blood, and Harry supposed this was his own. But it wasn't right; the blood seemed to be massing up into a gelatinous substance. It filled the air with a rotten smell. He titled back his head and poured the contents of the vial into his mouth.

"God, you're sick!" Harry couldn't help saying.

Draco scowled back at him, his eyes draining even more of animation. He took Harry's vial and drank it quickly. Then Draco knelt on the ground as if to pray, muttering nonsense words that made Harry uneasy.

As he continued, his voice resonating and growing deeper as it echoed across the chamber, the room filled with a horrible light and stench. The hairs on his neck prickled. Draco looked up from his chanting and Harry gasped. His eyes were nothing more than white rolling balls in their sockets. The boy shuddered and began to chant again, and somehow Harry understood. "Oh God of Dark, embrace me with your presence. I have drunk foul and sacred blood to give up my human soul. Bring your wrath on the true world through my body."

Harry didn't care if his hand hurt anymore; he didn't think he should be here to witness this. In a panic he scrambled to his feet, only to be brought down by whatever Draco was now. He punched Harry in his stomach, his skin sweaty and gray, and his eyes bulged madly as he grasped Harry with shaking arms. His body lurched, and Harry couldn't wrench Draco off of him. "Let me go!" he yelled hopelessly.

Surprisingly, Draco released him, going into another torrent of violent shudders. The true voice of Draco Malfoy came out now, screaming in agony. Before Harry could do anything, Draco began to transform before his eyes. It reminded him of Polyjuice Potion, only ten times worse. Draco was mutating into some horrible monster. His skin shriveled and stretched, veins popping. His robes ripped at the seams as he grew.

Harry ran for it when the fangs began to sprout. He didn't look back, though he heard some sort of snarling behind him.

Draco (or whatever) came skidding to the dead end. It sniffed the air with its wolf-like nose, seeking Harry's scent. Obviously not succeeding, it lowered its snout and paused. The thing began to flicker and spark until with a pop!, the teenage Draco Malfoy once again appeared, though he still looked like the living dead. "Go forth and take the lives of the Three Remaining Apostles."

The original Draco nodded and smirked in his familiar way. He looked around as if suddenly wary, and then his eyes fell onto Harry. Harry gulped and fought the thought of escape. Draco raised a hand and hurled something invisible at Harry's head. They made a splitting pain, and Harry felt himself falling into blackness once more.

Hermione awoke in her bed with a gasp. She'd been dreaming again, she knew, but as always the images escaped her as soon as she opened her eyes. Now she clasped her arms about her knees and stared out the tower window.

Night was falling; the sky had become a sheet of purple velvet dotted with stars. It was a clear night and the moon shone brighter than anything else.

The moon.... Brightness, a shining ball...it was familiar, but she couldn't put a finger on it. Her stomach growled slightly from hunger, for she hadn't eaten anything all day and dinner was finishing up downstairs. She yawned loudly.

"Hermione?" She recognized the voice to be Lavander's and shoved back her other bed curtain.

"What is it?"

Lavander smirked. "A cute Slytherin boy is waiting for you outside the common room. He's asking for you."

"Who?"

Lavander blinked. "Who else but Draco Malfoy? Everyone else in Slytherin looks like they ran headlong into a brick wall."

"Oh," Hermione said. "I'll go, then." Lavander smiled enviously as she went out of the room.

Hermione found Draco leaning against the wall outside the portal hole. His eyes raked over her briefly. She shuddered at the look of him, for he was more disheveled than she'd ever seen him. His silver-blonde hair stuck up on the edges, dirt stained his face, his clothes stunk of mold and were in tatters. His wrist was deeply cut and discolored, and his eyes were.... she didn't know how to describe them, but they weren't the eyes she remembered.

Even through all this, Draco still remained as composed and attractive as ever. Veela blood, Hermione thought .

"Come on," he told her in a hushed voice, and grabbed her arm lightly. Twisting, she examined the cut on his wrist.

"What happened?" she whispered.

His strange eyes bore into hers. "Let's not talk bout that right now."

She didn't know where they were going, but at the moment she didn't care. It was obvious that Draco wanted to get away from the prying eyes of their schoolmates. She didn't argue with him as they swept along the corridors, climbing ever higher. His grip grew cold, his skin tinged with gray, but she supposed it was just the chilly air.

"Here, this should do." He led her into a tall room half shrouded in darkness. Two small candles burned on a table in the close room. Draco pushed her forward with force, leaving himself to stand in front of the door.

Hermione's eyes narrowed with suspicion. She didn't like that he was blocking the only way out. "Alright, what is this about?"

His grin widened. "What do you want it to be about?"

She crossed her arms. "Get away from the door. I'm not going to play these kind of games with you, Draco."

His face formed into mock disappointment. "Oh, but I made you such a nice card."

"It was done in crayon, Malfoy!"

He lifted his chin defiantly, still smirking with amusement. "Oh, so it's back to Malfoy, is it?"

"Get out of the way!" she exclaimed, making for the door. He grabbed her on the way and pulled her into a fierce kiss.

"Look you horny little ferret, back off! What do you think you're doing?"

He threw back his head and laughed. "I guess you could call it seducing."

She glared coldly at him. "And what gives you the right to do that? You really think you're so great, don't you?!"

"Think? I'm so great that I'm jealous of myself. Come on, Hermione."

She backed up in panic. "Something's definitely wrong here." She took in the sight of his face with unease. "You're not yourself."

He looked down quickly. "I've- I've had a bad day."

She laughed hollowly. "Having bad days automatically gives you the right to rape people."

"Hey, give me a little credit. I never said rape."

"Close enough," Hermione retorted. She stiffened as he began to pick at his nails, looking up from time to time and smiling mockingly. "What?" she finally snapped.

"Just thinking about how long I can keep you here before you force yourself on me."

"What?!" she repeated with disbelief.

"Oh, let's face it, I'm so great that nobody can resist me."

She crossed her arms and fumed. "There has to be some other reason I'm here rather than just satisfying your over-sized ego."

He laughed deep in his throat. "No, not really."

"There's something you're not telling me."

"Then try to get it out of me."

They glared at each other briefly before she broke off. "Okay, then. Just talk to me or let me go."

"Good," he answered. "Now you're starting to cooperate." He slowly extracted his wand from his sleeve and Hermione flinched.

"Draco? What are you doing?"

He pointed his wand and she ducked out of the way, but he'd only extinguished one of the candles on the table. "That's better."

Hesitantly she pulled herself up and let out a sigh of relief. Her heart was pounding too hard in her chest; she could barely breathe. She realized it seemed she was being afraid for no reason, but Draco was strange tonight.

"Let's talk. Have you managed to find anything out about magick?"

His change of subject surprised her. "Oh- well, I thought I'd found one thing, but it wasn't important."

His eyes narrowed. "You're lying to me. Tell me the truth."

She tried not to look guilty. He was right, she'd lied that she thought the fact was unimportant. On the last Hogsmeade weekend she'd visited the library to search for things on magick, as Draco had wanted her to. There'd been various mentions of magick in most books, but nothing more. But fifteen minutes before she would have to leave she found something in Magical Developments through History. The book contained a description of the ancient forms of magick and their sole purposes. It had described to her that the gods of the land that were part of the religion at the time were very powerful, and by performing magick you were connected to them, like a contract. But even though it was enlightening, the information wasn't useful.

Bluntly, she repeated the facts to Draco, who seemed to drink them in. "That's all?" He finally asked.

"Yes, that's all they had. I could probably find more sources in Diagon Alley over Christmas-"

"No," he broke in. "I don't want you to find anything else. It's not important."

She looked up at him, her mouth dropping open. "It is important, you said so yourself! You wanted me to look up magick, and I am!"

"Not anymore. I don't need you to."

Her brow furrowed. "Why? Have you found something?"

"Yes, and I don't need to know anything else."

"Well, alright then. Sorry I wasn't much- help." He was staring at her intently again. "Why do you look like that?"

He frowned. "I think I'm sick, that's all. Hard to be very happy when you're sick, isn't it?"

She shot him a look. "Okay. That's a weird reason when you've been laughing at me this whole time.

He raised his eyebrows. 'Well, what do you want to do then?"

"Why don't you let me go back to my room?"

"Only if I can come with you."

"Just stop with these mind games, Draco Malfoy!" she yelled. "What are you trying to accomplish?"

He smirked as if he knew something she didn't. "That's for me to know, and for you to find out."

"When?" she snapped.

His smile widened. "Soon enough." He grinned openly to where his teeth were exposed and Hermione jumped back, horrified. His teeth were coated in something red, and she had a horrible suspicion of what it might be.

"Draco...your teeth, they're-"

Before she could even finish her sentence he whipped out his wand again and fixed its point to her neck. "Just stay still," he whispered fiercely, 'and I won't be forced to kill you."

She couldn't help but laugh in his face. "As if you could, Draco. Even with how much dark arts you probably do know, you don't have the skill to perform Avada Kedavra." The defeated look in his eyes satisfied her.

Something in his eyes reminded her of something. Suddenly, her eyes flew open with understanding. "The dream...it's you!" she said. "You're the one!"

"What are you talking about?" he asked harshly, never taking his wand away from the base of her neck.

She stared at him with abrupt hatred. "You're the one causing all this at Hogwarts! You're the reason why Professor Dumbledore's dead!"

For some reason, this statement made him lower his wand. He stared back at her blankly. Then his face seemed to flicker. Hermione caught a glimpse of something in his eyes she hadn't seen all night. She was taken aback, but as soon as it appeared it died out. His empty eyes looked back at her again.

"I was a fool to think they're was anything good in you," she snarled. "You haven't changed at all, you're just as bad as your father."

"You're just as bad as your father, Draco." Hermione's words sang in his mind, and, closing his eyes, images filled his head. He saw himself, he saw a man slapping him, then with a flash he saw the same man throwing a quaffle at his head while he was atop his broom, saw the same man threatening him with a finger in the face. He saw himself huddled under a desk, eyes wide with fear.

What was this? Who was this man, and when did this happen? Never matter. He had to kill this girl, this Hermione who was starting to get very annoying and would interfere. Why couldn't he just kill her? He'd tried two times now and failed.

"Draco? Draco!"

He brought his wand up to her throat again. "I will kill you."

He saw her shudder with fear, eyes wide and shining. He felt another shadow of some emotion, and he forgot to speak the words that would steal her life.

Without warning, Hermione began to cry. She sank to the floor and covered her face with her hands, trying to conceal her tears. Something like guilt filled him, and his wand hand trembled. "I need t-to do this," he whispered to himself for reassurance. He felt a red-hot stab of urgency and knew it was from the other entity inside of him.

"Why do you want to kill me?" she asked in a tear-choked voice from the floor. "I thought you liked me."

Another series of images overtook him. He was kissing this girl passionately, he held her arm, he wrote her name on a slip of parchment and tucked it into his robes. The same robes he was wearing now.

Instinctively, he reached into a pocket of his robes and withdrew the tiny bit of parchment. 'Hermione' was scribbled across it in his own delicate, wavy handwriting. He'd put that in his pocket a week ago. Now he found it inside his robes, like a little reminder of something, something that felt familiar and from long ago. What was this?

Hermione was still shaking on the floor. "Get up," he told her, a little more coldly than he'd wanted.

"What?

She got up slowly and he placed his wand on her again. Retracting somewhat, she clenched her eyes shut, tears still coming down from her eyes.

"Obliviate!"

There was a small flash of light, and Hermione fell to the floor. He bent down and shook her to wake her up, and her eyelids rose slowly. "Hermione!"

She groaned, shook her head and her eyes came into focus. "What? Why am I here?" she asked, looking around.

He smiled. "Because I want you here." On some instinct he couldn't control, he leaned in and kissed her. She stiffened for a moment, surprised, then relaxed in his grip.

After a minute he finally tore himself away from her to glance in her eyes. She didn't seem to remember anything that had happened in the last half hour, and his grin broadened. An inner pain consumed him but he ignored it, satisfying himself by thinking that he had plenty more chances to kill her. Finally his body relaxed.

"Go back to your room," he told her softly. "Get some sleep."

"That's all?"

He frowned, still worrying why he couldn't kill her at first. 'There's been enough." He said shortly.

Still looking mildly confused, she rose and exited the room. He watched her go, then slumped to the floor, planning to just sleep here tonight. He was too exhausted to go back to his room.

Why couldn't he kill her? In this form he wasn't supposed to recall anything except the necessary information to slip by without suspicion and do his missions. Why would he remember something about that girl from his former self? She had some effect on him that had made him stop. His body still ached from the pain injected from the other part of him.

Harry was still in the antechamber that was the old dungeons, hanging from the ceiling by his wrists in a sleeping trance. He knew he couldn't kill Harry yet. His master said he needed him more. But Hermione, Cho and Dumbledore were supposed to be dead. None of them were yet. Dumbledore was suspended with his life in the Dimension of Lost Souls, created for special purposes by his master. Cho was still flaunting herself around the school, but she'd be next. Her, Dumbledore and Hermione were useless except for getting in the way.

Sighing, Draco stared at the parchment crumpled in his and. Hermione. What was so special about her? He didn't like her. And of course he wouldn't be able to know if he had before his rebirth. She had been right, though, that he couldn't perform Avada Kedavra; he would've had to transform to kill her, which required an incantation.

Avada Kedavra. It brought something else to his mind. That man again, was holding his shoulder. He was in a large room filled with expensive, sleek furniture and moving portraits. Draco pointed his wand at a woman in an apron, carrying a tray of tea. Words came from his mouth, there was a flash of green light, and the woman sank to the floor on her knees, moaning in pain. The tray went flying and the pot crashed into pieces on the floor. The man had smirked, but then smacked Draco across the hand and scolded him soundlessly.

"Father," Draco whispered now. "You'll be next."

That's the end of Chapter four! What did you think? Scary? Disturbing? Disappointing? Perfect!? Once again, thanks to my wonderful beta readers, and everyone who's read and reviewed my first three chapters! Chapter five: Ron gets in the way of Draco's plans, Cho takes action, Hermione is love struck and Harry sings while hanging in the dungeon. If we're lucky, Lucius might do the Cha-cha slide.