“Well mate,” Ron yawned as he stretched his arms high over his head, “I’m going up. You comin’?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec. I just have one more inch left on Professor McGonagall’s essay,” Harry answered.

Ron walked upstairs to the dormitory, his school books and bag in tow. Hermione had finished her work and gone back to her room an hour before, now it was only Harry in the common room.

Harry was quite proud of himself. This was the first night in about a month where he had actually finished a homework assignment on his own, with no assistance from Hermione. He was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate, especially with Voldemort freely wandering the planet. Harry never felt safe, and he was always thinking about that time in the near future-when he would face Voldemort for the last time. One of them would have to die.

Harry banished the thought from his mind and stuffed his things into his school bag. But as he walked towards the door that led to the common rooms he noticed a half burnt piece of parchment lying in the empty fireplace. Wondering if it was anything important, Harry picked it up and examined it. He was shocked when he realized what it was.

He slowly walked up stairs to the dormitories reading what was written the whole time. Not believing a word the parchment said, and yet being incredibly intrigued as to who the author was. When he reached the dormitory, he gave Ron the parchment and told him to read it.

“Hell Harry, what is it about you?” Ron smirked after reading what was written. “No matter what the rest of us do it’s always you that winds up with all the attention and all the fame and all the money and all the gir…”

Thankfully for Harry, Ron’s comical tirade was stopped short by a loud snore from Dean’s bed.

“It’s nothing Ron. Probably some crazy first year like Ginny was. Nothing for you to get all crabby about,” Harry mocked playfully.

Ron had a point though. No matter what Harry did he always wound up with all the fame and fortune. Everybody wanted to be around him, everybody wanted to know him. Hell, everybody wanted to be him. He wished that sometimes he could just be a normal sixteen year old boy, and not a hero.

Harry sighed as Ron began to snore quietly from his bed, and soon, he followed suit.

It was very dark. The only light came from a fireplace directly behind her Master. It was placed so that He could see her, but He was barely visible. But it didn’t matter. Her Master did not need to be seen to be feared or awed. His height alone was astonishing. And His voice, you could never get over that voice. You could never escape or run from that icy cold and calculating voice.

“My Lord,” the girl managed to whisper. She was on her hands and knees, her head bowed as low as was possible. She wasn’t entirely sure if such an act was appropriate, but better to over do the worship than under do it. This was the first time she had ever been in the presence of The Master.

“Why have you come here?” His voice showed no emotion. She could not tell whether he was angry or pleased. It unnerved her, but she refused to whimper like a baby before the man that she had been taught to worship her whole life.

“I wish to help you My Lord,” her voice grew stronger with every syllable she uttered. This she knew, this she could do. She had spent months planning this speech, thinking over her plan. It was foolproof. She had access to everything needed, and she was in the perfect position to carry out the most important work of The Master.

“With what? Your are but a child, and a rather puny one at that,” she could now hear the traces of humor in His voice. But as respectful as she knew she must be, she had come much too far to be humiliated in front of her Master. And nobody called her puny.

“I have come here because I have direct access to something that you may be very interested in, My Lord.”

“And what is that, my dear?” His voice was mocking, at the moment. But with her next words the smile was gone from His lips and He became the serious man that was Voldemort.

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, my Master, and Harry Potter.”

“You’ll never guess what Harry found last night in the fireplace, Hermione,” Ron uttered between bites of food. They were all seated at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Hermione had just arrived and Ron, of course, had immediately jumped into the tale.

“What Ron? A half burnt log that resembled a Snitch?” Hermione asked sarcastically.

“No, better! A love note-for him!” Ron started laughing uncontrollably at his own comment. So hard, in fact, that he fell out of his seat and needed to be helped back up by both Harry and Hermione.

“It’s not a big deal,” Harry said after Ron was once again safely seated at the table. “I don’t even know who wrote it, the whole bottom of the letter was burned off. Ron, though, had to make a big deal about it.”

“Like hell it’s not a big deal, Harry. Come on Hermione, pick on him a little. He has a secret admirer. Oh come on,” Ron shouted as Hermione rolled her eyes and stood up to leave the table. “Don’t you even want to know what it said?”

“Ron, I have no interest in Harry’s love life whatsoever. Why should I care if some girl likes him and wrote him a letter? It’s also none of my business, just like it’s none of your business; and if Harry found it in the fireplace than it was obviously not supposed to have been any of his business either,” and with that Hermione left the Great Hall.

“What the bloody hells got into her?” Ron asked Harry, who just shrugged.

Hermione walked as quickly from the Great Hall as she possibly could without looking suspicious. She knew that her face was red and flustered and she could feel her heart beating fast.

“What if he found out?”

But that wasn’t possible; Ron had said the whole bottom of the letter had been burned off. She couldn’t believe the nerve of Ron, asking her if she wanted to know what it said.

“Shit!” she cursed out loud, which was something she never did. But how could this have happened? No, Hermione didn’t need to know what the letter said. She already knew.

“Damn it, how could I have been so stupid to write something like that?”