It was late when Harry awoke. He sat up quickly; shocked that he had fallen asleep at all. Hermione moaned next to him. At the sight of her Harry smiled and gently lay back down underneath the covers. He wrapped his arms around Hermione’s sleeping naked form. She was so beautiful, and her body was perfect. Perfect curves, perfect color, perfect texture. He thought about the way their bodies had reacted to each other. It was incredible. It was the most amazing thing Harry had ever experienced.

He looked at his watch. It was 2:30 in the morning. He gently shook Hermione and kissed her lightly on her forehead. She moaned and stretched slightly at Harry’s touch. Her eyes fluttered open and looked into his. Harry felt it again. That feeling that nothing else mattered, that all he needed, all he wanted was Hermione. And he did, he realized. He wanted her again, right here, right now.

He moved towards her, a hungry look in his eye. But before he reached her lips, he remembered. He remembered what had happened to her yesterday, with Ron.

Hermione saw the smile fade from Harry’s face. The happiness she had seen their just seconds ago was gone. Now his face only showed worry, remorse, and even sadness. Hermione frowned at him questioningly.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered.

Hermione’s frown deepened at his words. “You’re sorry for last night? Why? I...”

“No,” Harry answered, “well yeah. I’m sorry because I realized I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Harry,” Hermione whispered. “You didn’t do anything. We did that!”

“No, I mean I’m sorry because of what happened to you earlier, with Ron. I forgot. I shouldn’t have done that, it wasn’t right.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry, exposing her beautiful bare breasts for just a moment. She pulled Harry close to her and laid her head on his shoulder.

“Harry, don’t feel bad.” She whispered into his ear. “It’s not your fault, nothing is. It’s not your fault Ron attacked me, and what happened last night wasn’t your fault. I think I needed last night, I needed you. I was under so much stress; I just needed to be close to you. I needed you.”

Harry pulled Hermione close to him and smelled the sweet scent of strawberries. That’s the last thing he was thinking about before he fell asleep entangled with Hermione’s body- strawberries.

She was tired from her journey to meet Voldemort. As soon as she walked in through the large front doors, she collapsed in the first room she came to. A classroom. She didn’t care, she was exhausted. After the events of last night she had had to run quickly from Hogwarts grounds to Hogsmeade, where she had apparated to Voldemort.

After their meeting, she had been forced to return to Hogwarts in the same fashion. Apparating on it’s own was tiring work, but running from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts was murder. But she had to do it, if she didn’t, Voldemort would kill her. He would cut her down just like muggle farmers cut down the wheat they grew. If she ran from him, she would have no hope.

Yes, Amanda Drowry knew that the only hope she had of being free from him was sleeping peacefully in the castle somewhere right now. All she could do was hope that The Boy Who Lived would live up to his name and live again.

“You notified your son of his job, Malfoy?”

“Yes my lord,” Lucius Malfoy stood with head bowed facing the Dark Lord. Malfoy was a very rich and powerful man, but just thinking about his master frightened him near to death. That was saying a lot considering nothing scared Malfoy. Or at least that was what he liked other people to think.

“And what did your son think of his mission to serve me?” Voldemort asked in his high pitched yet chilling voice.

“He was honored master. He felt privileged.”

“No he didn’t,” Voldemort replied laughing a cruel, cold laugh. “Your son is exactly like you in every way. He was offended and angered by his assignment and the fact that he was not going to have the honor of capturing the Potter boy for himself. He was offended that he had to play second wand and not first. Why do you lie to me?”

“My master I…”

“Are you still faithful to me, Malfoy? Do you believe that I will be stopped again?”

“No master! You will triumph over Harry Potter. I would never think to desert you, master.”

“Good! Now tell me, exactly how angered was your son that he had to assist a Ravenclaw?”

“Before we begin eating, I believe it is necessary for me to answer your many questions concerning last night,” Dumbledore said standing at the teachers table looking out at the four house tables packed with students.

All the talking in the hall immediately ceased, everyone was eager to know what had happened to Padma and Parvati. Snape had refused to tell them anything last night.

“It is unfortunate news that I must bring you this morning as it appears that Miss Padma Patil is indeed dead. Investigation of the body brought the teachers and I to conclude that Miss Patil hung herself late last night.”

The Great Hall broke into murmuring as all the students began talking about what Dumbledore had just said. Everyone in the Great Hall was talking, except many of the Ravenclaws who were crying.

“We are not aware of the circumstances surrounding why Miss Patil committed suicide, or how her sister Parvati managed to find her sister,” Dumbledore said, immediately quieting the Great Hall once again except for the sobs coming from the Ravenclaw table.

“As for Miss Parvati Patil, she is still currently in the hospital wing recovery from the shock, other than that she is fine. She will, however, be returning home with her parents tomorrow when they come to pick up Padma. The funeral will be held in Hogsmeade on Saturday. I have been asked to inform you that everyone is welcome to attend if they wish, priority will, however, go to Padma’s closest friends and family. Thank you for your time.” Dumbledore sat down and everyone began to eat and talk.

Hermione was very silent during breakfast, it worried Harry.

“Hermione, what’s the matter? Are you upset about Padma?” Harry was sad of course. He knew Parvati pretty well, but he hadn’t know that Hermione would be this upset by Padma’s death.

“I just realized something,” Hermione said. “About Padma. I just realized how truly awful this is.”

“Hey you!”

She stopped in the hallway and turned around to stare at the blond Slytherin that had called out to her. She watched coldly as he walked up and grabbed her arm.

“We need to talk,” he drawled, his blue steel eyes glaring at her coldly.

He led her into a nearby classroom. It was deserted this early in the morning. She stared at the Malfoy while he glared back at her.

“Well,” she said. “What do you want to talk about? I don’t have all day, and I would hate to be found talking to the likes of you.”

“The likes of me?” Draco answered. “A Slytherin you mean? I don’t see why that should worry you, being you’re a Death Eater and all.”

Her eyes turned into slits as she stared at him. The anger and envy she had once felt for Draco Malfoy turned into pure hatred.

“How the fuck do you know that!” she growled. She didn’t even try to hide the hate and anger in her voice.

“My father told me,” Draco answered coldly. “You might have heard of him? Lucius Malfoy, the Dark Lords greatest servant? He told me all about you and your ‘plan’.”

“So you’re here why?” she asked him, ignoring his remarks regarding his father.

“Apparently, the Dark Lord wants me to help you. How I don’t know, but that’s what I’m here to do.”

She watched him for several seconds, looking deeply into his cold blue eyes. She had never expected anything like this to happen. This was her plan, her mission. She wanted to be the one who got the glory for bringing Potter to the Dark Lord. Why would he do this to her?

“Fine,” she said. “But you only do what I tell you to do and when, got it?”

“Just because I’m helping you doesn’t mean I take orders from you,” he replied.

“Fine,” she replied. She walked towards the classroom door, not looking back. But before she reached the door she stopped and turned around. “What’s in it for you?”

“Hopefully, a good reputation with Dark Lord. Most of us, unlike you, aren’t as privileged to be Death Eaters at this age. I’ve always been told you have to at least have taken you N.E.W.T’s to become a Death Eater. But apparently the rules don’t apply to everyone.” He said coldly.

“Well, Draco, unlike you, I have some skills in the Dark Arts. Skills useful to the master, things that at this age most people, even you god damned Malfoy’s, don’t have.” Draco’s frown deepened at her remark. He probably hated her just as much as she hated him.

“If you don’t watch your fucking mouth,” he spat, “I’m going to have to show you just how much I do know about the Dark Arts.”

She laughed. “Oh, I’m trembling,” she scoffed sarcastically. “But that’s all you’re hoping to get from assisting me, a good reputation?”

“Maybe something else,” Draco replied, forgetting his hate for her he quickly but thoroughly surveyed her body. “If I’m a good boy.”

She walked back into the middle of the room and stood directly before him, her face was a foot away from his.

“Something else, hm?” she asked smiling. Draco began to grin looking at her. “You really are a walking hard on aren’t you, Malfoy?”

“At least I’m getting some,” he replied coolly.

“Well just remember this,” she whispered in his ear, seductively close. “Anything extra you do wind up getting is going to be from me, not from the master. So you had better be a very, very good boy.”

At that she turned around and walked out of the room leaving Draco standing there with a mild erection. She didn’t have time to fulfill his wild fantasies right now, she had people kill and lives to ruin.

The bell rang just as Professor Drowry had finished assigning their homework, a foot long essay concerning the Legilimens curse and Occlumency. Harry had previously taken Occlumency lessons with Snape, to no avail. He had hated them and dreaded every session, but this year, he found himself enjoying and quickly learning the art of Occlumency.

This years Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and their teacher for that matter, were very unusual. They had spent a good part of the year studying the Dark Arts, and more specifically the Unforgivable curses.

Professor Drowry had told them that because of the war, Dumbledore had allowed her to teach the higher years with a more ‘unapproved’ curriculum. She had said that the only way to truly protect yourselves as much as possible from the Dark Arts was to know them. So, every week they learned about a certain Dark spell or jinx, and then they would have a homework assignment on how they could use the information they had learned to protect themselves against it.

Incredibly enough, Harry found him enjoying his Defense Against the Dark Arts class as much as he had the year Lupin taught it, maybe even more so.

“Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, can I see you both before you leave please,” Professor Drowry asked in her all too American accent. When they both reached her desk she sat down and began to idly pick at her Defense Against the Dark Arts books. Finally she looked at the both of them and spoke.

“I have heard rumors concerning Mr. Weasely,” she said. “I do not pretend to know exactly what happened or why, or even if anything has happened at all. But I wanted to inform the both of you to be especially cautious.”

Harry sighed, every week it seemed he got lectured by a new teacher concerning his need for caution. Harry was well aware that Voldemort was after him, he was well aware that his life was in danger, and he didn’t need everyone reminding him about it all the time.

“What does Ron have to do with us being cautious,” Hermione asked, Harry could hear her voice crack when she talked about Ron.

“I don’t know the three of you as well as some of the other teachers do, Hermione. But I do know that the friendship you three share is very strong, I don’t believe that Mr. Weasely would have done such a thing of his own free will.”

“What do you mean by ‘of his own free will’?” Harry asked her.

Drowry leaned back in her chair and pressed her fingers together. She wasn’t an old witch, in fact she appeared much younger than any teacher Harry or Hermione had ever knew. In fact, the first day they saw her they had mistaken her for a student.

“Harry,” she said, it was obvious this was not an easy subject for her to talk about. “A few students have been asking me questions about the Dark Arts, and more specifically about the Unforgivable curses. Strange questions about practicing them and the incantations and even questions about Death Eaters. I approached Professor Dumbledore with my suspicions but he refused to acknowledge any threat.”

“Why?” Hermione asked, he eyes widening with realization at what she was being told.

“Partly because Professor Dumbledore does not even want to consider the fact that a student at Hogwarts could possibly know such a thing. It is hard enough for him to know there are children of known Death Eaters right under his nose, it would be even worse to know that any of those children were capable of performing the spells that their parents use. Professor Dumbledore is also wary to believe because of who the students’ parents are.”

“But Professor Dumbledore’s never been wrong, maybe they were just asking about something for the class,” Hermione said hopefully.

“Dumbledore’s been wrong before,” Hermione looked over at Harry when he said this, she had a shocked look on her face. “Who were the students?”

“Normally I wouldn’t be able to tell you,” Drowry said. “But because of recent circumstances, including the death of young Padma, I feel it is my responsibility to warn you. Their were two of them, Marietta Edgecombe and Luna Lovegood.”

“Harry, I’m worried.” Hermione looked at Harry after walking out of Transfiguration, later that day.

“What about?” Harry asked placing his arm protectively around her shoulders.

“Well,” Hermione looked around, uneasy. “It’s Ron, I haven’t seen him all day. He hasn’t been in any of our classes, Harry. And what Professor Drowry told us about Luna and Marietta? I’m worried about Ron.”

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled Hermione down the hallway towards the Great Hall for lunch. “Personally, I don’t care,” he told her. “Hopefully Dumbledore sent him away somewhere, like back to the burrow where he can’t bother you anymore.”

“Harry!” Hermone shouted slapping his arm. “How could you say such a thing, he’s your best friend?”

“No friend of mine attacks you Hermione. No one! I don’t care who Ron thought he was, or how jealous he was, he had no right to touch you,” Harry said stepping close to Hermione and placing his hand on her cheek.

“Harry, Ron wasn’t jealous. He never was.” Harry looked at Hermione questionably. “Harry, he was going out with Padma. That’s another reason why I’m worried about him.”

Harry frowned at Hermione. “You mean, he never wanted you?”

“Well,” she grinned. “He did have a crush on me in fourth year, but he never asked me out. A crush was all it was Harry. He didn’t tell you about Padma because, well, he thought you would be jealous.”

“Me? Jealous of Ron for dating Padma?” Harry laughed. “Not on his life.”

“Harry, be quiet,” Hermione admonished when a couple of passing Ravenclaws glared at Harry for his comments regarding their dead friend.

“How could I be jealous?” Harry whispered. “I have you.” He kissed Hermione gently on the lips. It was hard for Harry to pull away from her kisses. Every time their lips touched he wanted to grab her and drag her back up to Sir Cadogan’s secret room, but every time he found the strength to control himself and he’d pull away.

Just as Hermione and Harry smiled at each other, a disheveled and bleary-eyed Ron walked up the staircase towards them. Ron had been crying, Hermione could tell. She wondered if it was about Padma.

At the sight of Ron, Harry pushed Hermione behind him and stared at his best friend cruelly. It didn’t matter what Hermione had told him about Ron, what he had done was still wrong and Harry was not going to forget about it.

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Several seconds later, he managed to whisper his thoughts.

“Hey guys, I was…”

“What do you want?” Harry asked quickly.

Ron’s eyes filled with tears, he looked from Harry to Hermione and then back again.

“I was just wondering…”

“Ron, you have no right to wonder about anything,” Harry said. “If anyone has a right to wonder it’s Hermione and I. Do you honestly think we want anything to do with you after what you did?”

Hermione tried to move around Harry towards Ron, but Harry stopped her. She was starting to cry.

“Harry please,” Ron sobbed, “please just let me ask Hermione a question. I have to know.”

Harry nodded his head and looked at Hermione.

Ron looked into her chocolate eyes, “Did I…did I do it? Did I do what I think I did?” he asked.

“What kind of question is that?” Harry asked. “You know perfectly well what you did.”

“No,” Hermione shook her head, “he doesn’t know.” Ron’s eyes brightened a little at Hermione’s words. Hermione had been looking deeply into Ron’s blue eyes, and she realized, they weren’t the same eyes that she had seen peering out of his body yesterday afternoon. She knew, it couldn’t have been Ron. She had been right the whole time, Ron would never have hurt her.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, looking worriedly at her. “What do you mean it wasn’t Ron? We both saw him, Lupin saw him!”

“It wasn’t him Harry,” Hermione shouted. “He would never hurt me.”

Ron smiled slightly, “But did I…”

Hermione shook her head no.

Ron sighed visibly and deeply. He felt very relieved by that simple nod, he hadn’t raped Hermione. He had tried, but he hadn’t done it.

“Did I hurt you?” Ron asked taking a step towards her.

“YOU didn’t hurt me Ron, someone else did.”

“I don’t care who hurt Hermione, but until I figure out who it is that did hurt her, I don’t want you to come near her Ron.” Harry said. It hurt him to say it, it really did. Ron had been his best friend for over five years, but he had to protect Hermione.

Ron nodded his head and turned to walk down the stairs. Hermione wanted to go after him, but Harry had a hold of her arm again. Ron’s foot fell on the first step as he headed down. A couple of steps down he stopped moving. Ron wobbled unsteadily for several seconds, his legs seeming like they had turned to jelly- and then he fell.

Hermione screamed as Ron fell down the stairs leading to the Great Hall.