Parvati collapsed in the Great Hall. Hagrid picked her up and carried her out of the Great Hall with Dumbledore and the rest of the teachers.

“Hagrid,” Dumbledore said. “If you would please take Miss Patil to the hospital ward? Thank you. As for the rest of us,” he said looking at the rest of the teachers, “we need to search the school. Amanda, would you please go to Argus’s office and inform him of the situation. We need his help to find the girl.”

Amanda Drowry walked off in the direction of Argus’s office while the rest of the teachers began to discuss how they should search.

“I don’t really see the need for us to split up,” Snape stated. “The girl's body can’t be in too secluded an area or her sister would never have found her.”

McGonagall frowned at Snape’s seemingly indifferent attitude, but agreed that her body was more than likely in a rather public place. At that moment Filch came running up the hall with his lantern, which was hardly needed due to the light issuing from Drowry’s and several other teachers’ wands.

“Headmaster,” he wheezed from being out of breath, “I know where she is. Mrs. Norris just found her.”

Dumbledore and the teachers followed Filch up the staircase as he led the way to Padma’s body. Mrs. Norris came running towards them from around a corner, meowing loudly. They followed her around the corner to a girls’ toilet, the door stood wide open. And there, hanging just inside, was Padma’s body.

Harry and Hermione looked questionably at each other. Padma was dead. The news was a shock, to the whole school. Padma may not have been a good friend to Harry and Hermione, but they knew her sister, Parvati, pretty well. And Ron had taken Padma to the Yule Ball in their fourth year.

Padma was dead. Harry couldn’t figure out how such a thing could happen. It was quite possible she could have slipped on the stairs, or, well, anything could have happened. But, it was terrible. Harry couldn’t begin to contemplate how Parvati felt, or how Mr. and Mrs. Patil would feel when they got the news of their daughter’s death. Harry was just thinking how he really wanted to get out of the Great Hall, when Ginny ran over to them from the other side of the table.

“Hey, do you guys know where Ron is?” she asked. “He was acting really weird when I saw him this afternoon, and now there’s a rumor spreading that he attacked someone? I’m really worried.”

“We don’t know where he is,” Hermione answered truthfully, and before Harry spit out the whole story. “Last time we saw him he was fine, just a little shaken.” Hermione grabbed Harry and pulled him away from the table and towards the exit before Ginny could continue questioning them.

Harry and Hermione glanced down the Ravenclaw table as they walked past it. Padma had been in the Ravenclaw house and everyone at the table seemed to be quiet and thoughtful. One of the girls, Orla Quirke, was crying silently next to a freckled brown-haired boy. The only person at the table not acting like that was Luna Lovegood, who was staring at Harry and Hermione. Hermione smiled at Luna, being they had become fairly good friends last year. But Luna frowned harder at Hermione when she did this. Harry quickly pulled her past the table.

Harry and Hermione left the Great Hall. They walked slowly up the stairs towards the dormitory. They needed to be alone. Not for romance, not for passion. With everything that had happened to day, they had no need for any of that. They just wanted to lie in each others arms and feel safe. They needed to feel safe.

They didn’t talk. There was only one thing they could talk about, and neither of them wanted to discuss it. Hermione knew he was mad, and at the same time guilty for almost hurting Ron. She was scared. Hermione had never thought Ron could ever have done something to hurt her. But she couldn’t forget what had happened mere hours ago, she also couldn’t help but remember the way his eyes had looked- possessed, as if just beyond them, someone else was there hurting her. Someone other than Ron. But maybe that was what she wanted to think.

Harry was also contemplating what had happened today. Somehow, even though Ron’s curse had knocked Harry out for several minutes. The second he had awoken, he had known Hermione was in danger. Harry had run to the common room, he hadn’t known why. Something inside of him had just led him there. He could have been wrong. Ron could have taken Hermione anywhere. Harry cringed at the thought. If he had been ten seconds later, Ron would have succeeded in raping Hermione.

Harry’s thought were interrupted when he heard a loud creak behind a nearby guard armor. He instinctively grabbed Hermione and pushed her behind him. When he looked, he saw a hooded figure crouching behind it.

Harry nodded towards the guard armor with his head. Hermione watched as he pulled the hooded person out from behind the guard armor and whipped off the hood.

“Marietta?” Hermione said, shocked.

“What?” she screamed. She fought Harry’s hold, but he was much taller and stronger than her and was not having a problem holding on to the fighting girl.

“What are you doing down here? Why are you hiding?” Harry asked.

“None of your business,” she spat. She stopped squirming in Harry’s arms and looked straight at Hermione. “You did it, didn’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” Hermione said, a bewildered _expression on her face.

“I spent the whole summer in St. Mungos. All because of the acne I got cursed with last year! It was you wasn’t it, you were the one who wrote ‘SNEAK’ across my face in those hideous blemishes. Only a stupid mudblood would do such a…” Marietta stopped shouting and fighting. She seemed to be thinking about what she had just been saying. Then she started up again.

“Only a stupid mudblood would do such a thing to anyone! I was just trying to follow school rules!” Marietta shouted at her.

Harry threw the girl on the ground and whipped out his wand. Hermione had been through too much today as it was; the last thing she needed was a girl with a grudge calling her mudblood.

“Harry!” Hermione grabbed his arm and pointed it away from the figure on the ground. “Yes, Marietta, it was my charm that gave you the acne, but you broke an oath. You deceived us all. You deserved what you got. Now go!” Hermione pointed down the hallway, away from them, and grudgingly, Marietta complied.

Harry looked at Hermione, wonder etched on his face. He never would have believed she had the kind guts needed to tell someone to their face that she had jinxed them, then order them away. At that moment, when Hermione’s eyes moved away from the fleeing girl and met his own, Harry forgot all about what had happened earlier. He forgot about what Hermione had been through, and that he just wanted to hold her. Because, he didn’t want to hold her, he wanted to do so much more.

Ron was sitting in Dumbledore’s office. That’s where Dumbledore and Lupin had taken him. Luckily, nobody had tried to question him about what had happened yet. He just wasn’t up to it.

Ron looked absently at the sight of the roast chicken and mashed potatoes on Dumbledore’s desk. Dumbledore had brought him his dinner here. He had said that it was probably best he stay away from Harry and Hermione for a while. Ron didn’t feel like eating though. He had spent a good part of the last several hours in tears. He wanted to think about what had happened, he wanted to figure it out. But every time he tried, the only thing he saw was Hermione lying naked on his bed, wrapped in his white sheet, bruised and crying.

Ron didn’t have a clue what happened. He didn’t know how he got there, how she got there, and he had no clue why Harry looked as if he could have killed him. Of course, at the sight of Hermione- and later himself- Ron had guessed what had happened. He had attacked, and probably raped his friend. His friend, who was so much like a sister to him. The one person who would always be there for him with the best advice, the warmest smile, and the biggest hugs. Hermione.

Ron shook all thoughts from his head. Thinking about the situation only made him feel terrible, and he had spent the whole evening feeling terrible. The only thing left for Ron to do was to eat his supper, figure out what happened and why he couldn’t remember anything, and apologize to Hermione. He wanted his friends back, he missed them.

“It appears she hung herself, headmaster,” Filch said at the sight of Padma’s body. “Though why I don’t know.”

“Well that’s obvious,” Snape said rolling his eyes. “Unless you were a psychic far beyond the powers of Professor Trelawney, you wouldn’t know why she decided to kill herself, would you Mr. Filch?”

Filch bristled at Snape’s remark but made no reply, he knew better than to draw the Potions master into an argument.

Filch had untied the rope from around Padma’s neck and she was now lying on the floor. McGonagall was around the corner trying to compose herself. It had definitely come as a sock to see Padma hanging in the air like that; there were only a few teachers who seemed fairly unaffected by the sight of her body.

Dumbledore looked at the body of young Padma in silence. It had been a very long time since Dumbledore had been faced with his first dead student, and it never got any easier. Dumbledore sighed. He hated showing such weakness and indecisiveness in front of the staff, but sometimes it got to the point where even he couldn’t be sure of things.

“Well,” Dumbledore finally spoke up, “I shall have to contact the girls’ parents concerning the tragedy. Flitwick, if you could please help Argus transport the girls’ body to the hospital ward. Make sure that she is placed in a concealed corner, we don’t want any student’s stumbling across her. Severus, I would like you to return to the Great Hall and inform the students that they are not to go wandering around. Also tell them that I will make a formal announcement concerning the girl in the morning at breakfast. Minerva, if you are feeling better, I would like you to go to the hospital ward and keep a close eye on Parvati, I would like to know when she wakes up.”

The teachers all nodded and left, except for Drowry.

“Headmaster,” she said, “do you have any thoughts?”

“No, I do not Amanda,” he answered. “Young people often find themselves in situation they do not like, and sometimes they only see one escape. With the threat of Voldemort lurking ever closer, it is not shocking that some students would seek to get away from that.”

“Does that mean you think she truly killed herself?”

Dumbledore turned and looked at Drowry. He had a frown upon his face and he looked deep into her eyes. Drowry never moved her gaze away from Dumbledore’s. She was a strong witch, and very determined. She always spoke her mind, and unfortunately, because of her previous experiences and connections, she was oftentimes right.

“What do you think happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Amanda replied. “But I do know Padma. I have never seen her exhibit a single sign of fear or weakness ever in my class, and as you know, there are many frightening things the student’s face behind my classroom doors. She met every creature, every problem, with will and determination- and those are not characteristics that you find in people who kill themselves.”

Drowry walked away after finishing her comment. She had meant to give Dumbledore something to think about, and she had. Her work here was done- for now.

She wondered where that Weasel was right now. Hopefully they had him locked up somewhere; hopefully they were going to send him packing home. Oh, wouldn’t that be brilliant. With a single swipe of her wand, she had turned the Golden Trio in a Golden Duo, and ruined someone’s life. Her master would be proud.

She stumbled slightly on a hidden stump and immediately regained her footing. What she was doing was dangerous, but The Dark Lord had requested a conference and she couldn’t disappoint him- that would be death, no matter who you were.

“So, the prodigal daughter returns.” She turned once again to look into the cold eyes of The Dark Lord.

“Master,” she said, “I’ve come.”

“Yes, and it seems you have done a marvelous job,” he actually smiled, his teeth sharp points under his lips.

“What do you wish of me?” she asked.

“Nothing new. I simply wanted to know how you felt the operation was going?”

“Wonderful Master. Everything has gone according to plan, and no one suspects me- I’m sure of it! I know my plan will work Master, it’s only a matter of time before I get the mudblood.”

“Well, than it appears that everything is coming together quite nicely then. You have done well, daughter.”

Dumbledore left the bathroom where Padma had been found and walked towards his office. He knew Ronald Weasely was up there waiting, but Dumbledore knew he did not have the strength to question him tonight. He gave the gargoyle his favorite password- lemon drop- and entered his office.

Ron shrunk as Dumbledore entered and sat down in his favorite squashy chair. Dumbledore looked him in the eyes, trying to figure out what to do with him.

“Mr. Weasely, due to a recent tragedy I will not be questioning you tonight. Instead, I shall send you to a special guest room in the castle, where you can sleep away from both Harry and Hermione, and then we shall find out exactly what happened this afternoon.”

Just as Dumbledore finished, Lupin walked into the room with a surprised look on his face.

“Dumbledore, I just heard about Padma. What exactly…” Lupin stopped when he noticed that Ron was still seated in the office.

“Padma?” Ron asked. “Padma Patil? Is she okay, what happened? Is that the tragedy you were talking about Professor Dumbledore?” Ron had risen from his seat and looked at both Dumbledore and Lupin in turn.

“That, shall have to wait until tomorrow as well Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore said. “Remus, would you please escort Mr. Weasley to the first floor guest room, he will be staying there tonight. It is just behind the guard armor next to the portrait of the Lady in Purple. The password is ‘Snuffles”, as it was usually him who uses the room.”

The mention of Lupin’s best friend brought both sadness and happiness to him. Sirius Black, or “Snuffles”, had died the previous year, murdered by his sister Bellatrix Lestrange. Ron too seemed saddened by the mention of the cheerful animagus who had been Harry’s godfather.

“Come on Ron, you should get some rest,” Lupin put his hand on Ron’s shoulder as they walked out the door.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. Never in his life had he felt so unsure and defeated. Hours ago, Ron, a prefect, had attacked another prefect and his friend. Now Padma lay dead in the hospital wing. Maybe Drowry was right.

“I’m tired Fawkes,” Dumbledore said to the Phoenix now perched on his desk. Dumbledore knew he had to be strong. Strong for Harry, strong for the staff, strong for everyone. But, right now, Dumbledore couldn’t be strong. The sight of Padma’s dead body and the tale of Ron’s horrific deed had broken Dumbledore. Two seemingly small things in the middle of a desperate war, and Dumbledore felt defeated.

Fawkes nipped his ear and cooed to him.

“Yes, you are right my friend,” Dumbledore said stroking the Phoenix. “I must be strong.” At that moment the door to Dumbledore’s office flew open and a tall pale figure glided in, his long blonde hair flowing behind him.

“Well, good evening Lucius,” Dumbledore said politely and welcomingly, though he was very irritated by the man’s timing and rudeness. “I’m afraid I didn’t hear you knock.”

“That’s because I didn’t,” said the cool calculation voice of Lucius Malfoy, a known Death Eater. He had cleverly escaped Azkaban once, mainly through his riches, and Dumbledore was fairly sure that he was still up to his filthy and unforgivable practices. “I practically own this school Dumbledore, and I find knocking beneath me.” Dumbledore raised his hands in a seemingly apologetic manner.

“May I ask, at least, what the occasion is that warrants a surprise visit from you?” Dumbledore asked.

“Yes, my son, Draco. I would like a word with him Dumbledore. Immediately.”

“Well, you are aware of course that the students’ curfew is in five minutes?”

“I dare say you can make an exception,” Malfoy growled. “Where is he?”

“More than likely in his common room already, which you know how to find of course from your years at this school. Good evening Lucius,” and with those last few words Dumbledore ushered the Death Eater out of his office and sat down at his desk once again.

As all these thoughts ran through Harry’s brain, he did nothing but stare into her deep brown eyes. Hermione stared right back into his. Finally, Harry just couldn’t control himself anymore. He grabbed Hermione, gently, but firmly, by the arm and gently pushed her through the nearest door.

His lips were on hers before he turned her back around and shoved her against the door. Surprisingly, Hermione did nothing to stop him, only encourage him. She tangled her fingers tightly into Harry’s hair. She squeezed her body as close against his as she could, which was difficult due to the fact that Harry’s own body had her pinned to the classroom door. His mouth was locked onto hers; his tongue was exploring the inside of her mouth.

Then, his lips began to move away from Hermione’s; he began to kiss down to her chin and across her jaw line. Hermione began to kiss Harry’s ear as his lips and tongue traveled down her neck. Never had he imagined she would be like this. He had expected Hermione to stop him, to knock some sense into him like she always did. Never had he imagined she would give into this so completely, so willingly.

But Harry didn’t really care about that. He cared only about Hermione, and his hands, which had somehow found there way up her shirt. Harry moaned out loud when Hermione bit his ear. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he wasn’t about to ruin it.

“Where can we go?” he whispered roughly into her ear. His voice was thick with passion, and he knew that if he and Hermione did not get somewhere soon, he would fuck her right here in the classroom.

“Harry,” Hermione gasped. At the sound of her voice, he had expected her to tell him to stop. He expected her to say that this was enough, that they shouldn’t and that they couldn’t, but her words made him groan with passion.

“There are guest rooms, Harry, all over the school,” Hermione was having trouble talking. She was so consumed with passion for Harry and so involved in their kissing, talking was not one of her priorities. “I know where one is, Dobby told me about. I would hide elf hats for SPEW in there.”

At her words Harry immediately stopped kissing her, yanked her away from the door. He pulled the door open so violently Hermione was surprised that it didn’t come flying off it’s hinges. He dragged her back out into the hallway.

“Where?” he whispered in her ear.

Hermione grabbed his hand and led him to the third floor. In a corner, where a staircase led up to the higher floors and eventually Professor Trelawney’s Divination class, was a portrait of the Knight Sir. Cadogen.

“Ah, the beautiful Mistress returns for her noble purposes!” the knight shouted at the sight of Hermione. “And she has brought along a friend to assist her in the freeing of the slaves. I ask only for the password we two had agreed upon.”

“SPEW,” Hermione said, “spelled ‘S’, ‘P’, ‘E’, ‘W’.”

“You may enter my lady and my lady’s friend.” The portrait moved aside revealing a large and well decorated room with comfortable furnishings.

Hermione grabbed Harry’s hand and led him into the room.

“What are you doing here father?” Draco Malfoy asked of his father as they stepped outside of the castle.

Lucius looked at his son, Draco was exactly like his father in every way. He had the same cold, drawling voice, the same blonde hair, the same steel grey eyes, and the same hate for Harry Potter.

“I have come, to give you a mission; a mission directly from the Dark Lord himself.”

Draco’s face brightened at his fathers words. He wished to be a Death Eater when he was old enough, and now he had the opportunity to prove his skills at an early age.

“Anything, what does He wish me to do?”

“A plan is already in motion; you are simply to assist the girl I say in any way possible, and to make sure that no one is suspicious of her.” Lucius stated.

Draco frowned. For a moment he had thought that the Dark Lord was giving him a mission, a mission all his own to bring Potter to his knees. But all he got to do was help some stupid girl with her mission.

“Draco?” his father questioned sternly. He grabbed his sons arms and peered into his eyes, which were quickly becoming level with his own. “You will take this mission and you will serve the Dark Lord! Do you understand me?”

“Who am I helping?”

Harry had never felt like this in his life. For the first time in several hours, he forgot all about what had happened with Ron earlier. For the second time in several days, he forgot all about Voldemort’s threat. And for the first time in months, he forgot all about Sirius. All he thought about was Hermione.

The door had barely closed behind them both before they had fallen onto the large bed in the room. Once again Harry had been shocked that Hermione did nothing to stop him. She didn’t stop him when he began to take her clothes of, when his lips traveled down her chest; she didn’t stop him.

He lay on the bed now, Hermione’s lips locked to his own- both of their bodies moving in rhythm to each other. He realized that this was all he had ever wanted, ever needed. Her, right here, right now, underneath him. Harry was happy making love to Hermione.