The Seventh Moon

Author: IcyFire

Author Email: [email protected]

Rating: PG-13

Summary: A Hermione/Draco Story. Sooner or later, light will shine upon even the darkest secrets, and when Hermione stumbles upon a terrible truth that was meant to be forever concealed, she is thrown into utter confusion and suddenly feels completely lost in the world around her. And when Draco Malfoy, who does not yet realize his own important part in fate, steps in and tempts her with an offer she can't refuse, Hermione is faced with the decision that will change her life and ultimately decide the fate of the wizarding world. Thousands of years ago, when the gods still roamed the earth and the legendary oracles wove intricate prophecies, fate had paved a path, and destiny had chosen her to walk it. Through it all, a powerful, burning love will arise. Can love really conquer all? Or will she succumb to her fate? This is the story of her plight to change destiny and follow the stirrings of her own heart.

Author's Note: This, of course, is Draco/Hermione. This will be a rather dark story, I think. This story will start out sort of in a lighter tone, but it will eventually get darker later on. Just wanted to warn you people because lots of people don't like to read dark fics. You have to take into account that many years have passed - they are currently in the middle of their seventh year, so many changes will have occurred and the characters might seem different. Also, the beginning doesn't really sound like what'd you expect from the summary, but I can't just jump right to the story, I have to slowly introduce the plot and work everything in.

Disclaimer: Nope, as you already would have guessed, this ain't mine. Anything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling (lucky her!).

~*~

The Seventh Moon

Chapter One

The sudden roar from the engine of the bright red train didn't disturb the large crowd at Platform 9 3/4, but merely served to announce that it would be leaving shortly. A large number of witches and wizards had their hands raised up in the air, laughing and waving excitedly at the train, or rather, at their children who were seated in it. However, here and there, dotted occasionally among the crowds, were mothers and fathers who couldn't control their tears of happiness, and were dabbing softly at their eyes with handkerchiefs. The platform was filled with tension, full of mixed feelings of joy, excitement, and even sorrow, to some degree.

However, Hermione Granger, at this moment, had absolutely none of these emotions. She, put plainly, was rather distraught.

"Wait!" she cried as she sprinted through the crowds, pushing on the trolley with as much energy that she had left in her, dodging as many people as she could. "Don't leave!"

The crowds parted as she darted through, a few "oh!"s being emitted here and there where someone got pushed or tramped on. Others went into full panic mode as they believed a pocket picker had entered into their midst. This of course caused quite a scene, and only a rare few noticed that the train began to move, starting slowly, as if it was already tired from a long journey.

"Tell the train to stop!" Hermione, still pushing her trolley, its wheels cackling unpleasantly from the friction against the concrete, chased after the scarlet train with stubborn determination. With one hand supporting the trolley, she used her other to pound as hard as she possibly could on the side of the train, making a temporary dent in the metal. "Stop!"

To her dismay, the train only sped up, almost as if it wanted to leave her behind. She cursed at it bitterly - although not using any terribly vulgar language. After all, she was Hermione Granger. And of course, Hermione Granger didn't use profanity. What would people think of her if she did?

When the train began to go quite a bit faster than she was able to run, she finally stopped and slumped to the concrete ground, breathing heavily and admitting defeat. It was then that she realized how badly her muscles ached and exactly how tired she was from the chase and scolded herself mentally for trying absurdly to outrun a train. There was no way she could have done it - she'd never even heard of anyone being able to run faster than rabbit, and a train was much faster than a rabbit, she concluded.

A strand of dark hair fell from the sophisticated ponytail at the back of her head and she blew it away with an air of defeat, mentally cursing the train. A minute turned before she finally figured that instead of brooding over it, she might as well decide what to do now, since it was obvious the train wasn't going to let her on. A fruit smoothie - a strawberry fruit smoothie - sounded good at the moment and she decided she would hurry to the small, though rather expensive, café in the train station, order a smoothie, and finish reading that last chapter of the history textbook.

As she didn't have an owl, she couldn't very well send a message to the school authorities. They, she decided stubbornly, would have to come find her and hunt her down because she certainly wasn't going to waste her energy trying to chase the train through the mountains, valleys and whatever else there was. Besides, someone would have to notice sooner or later that the new Head Girl wasn't present, right? She certainly hoped so.

A moment later, after making her decision, she lifted her head to the mountains, perhaps for hope, and realized that the train had begun to slow down and eased to a stop a few hundred meters in the distance. Was it really doing what she thought it was doing? She held her breath and crossed her fingers, hoping for the best.

A tiny steel door, scarlet colored, swung open forcefully and a small wizard clothed in a, of course, scarlet colored, and rather ugly, conductor's uniform hopped out and motioned for her to come, with an urgent, as Hermione interpreted it - although it was actually closer to annoyed, wave of his hand. She obviously just couldn't bring herself to believe that anyone could find her annoying, despite what she'd heard from her friends. She was Hermione Granger after all - the smartest witch in her year, and probably in the century. Who could find her annoying?

Hermione jumped up from the hard concrete, a joyful smile lighting up her face, masking her look of surprise and jogged up to the door of the train with her trolley with only one thought circulating through her mind.

Yes!

The train door automatically swung open the moment she approached and she hastily removed her trunk from the trolley and lugged it onto the train. The door behind slammed shut and she emitted a small gasp of surprise. The engine started up again with an energized "choo choo!" and she had to hold onto the railing to balance herself as the train jerked and began to go into motion again.

Now came her true dilemma - finding Harry and Ron. She glanced down the train to the right and saw with great displeasure her archenemy Draco Malfoy standing in the middle of the passageway supporting himself with his hands on the wall, snogging with a girl she recognized as a Slytherin who was pinned between him and the wall. It didn't look so comfortable a position in Hermione's opinion although they both seemed to be enjoying it. Emitting a small gagging noise, and rolling her eyes, she decided she'd take her chances going down the left side of the hallway. At least that way, she would be able to avoid going anywhere within the vicinity of that pompous little rich boy.

Luckily for Hermione, she had gone the right way and soon found Harry and Ron sitting in a compartment near the end of the train. The door was old and a bit jammed so she had to force it open with a kick of her foot. Bad idea, she realized after the action was already carried through. Although the kick had done its job - the door was now open - the pain it inflicted on her toe was almost enough for her to go back on her commitment of never using swear words.

"Hey," she said as she dragged her trunk inside the compartment and plopped down on the soft cushiony seat across from her friends, making a painful face as she envisioned her poor toe turning black and blue and swelling to the size of a melon.

"Long time no see," said Harry, not even looking up to her as he shuffled a deck of cards.

Ron, though, regarded her with his eyebrows raised. It took a moment for him to get his words out. "Er...your hair's so..." he made a face.

"Dark," she finished for him and picked up a strand of her hair, studying it with a frown. "You don't have to tell me. I've already noticed. After a whole summer of swimming in a chlorine tank you'd think my hair would get a bit bleached and lighten, but strange, it got so dark."

She ran a hand through her dusky brown hair that was beginning to approach a soft ebony color. "At least it's not so frizzy anymore."

And she was right about that. The wild curls that she had back in first year were tamed into soft waves now as her seventh year began. And she was proud to declare that she had definitely not charmed it or used any muggle hair product to achieve the shiny wavy texture that it now had. Her mother had said that the change was due to the fact that she was "blossoming into a woman." Blossoming? Blossoming? That wasn't even in her vocabulary. Ah, if only the rest of her body could "blossom" as her hair did. Too bad, that just didn't seem likely. Hermione would blush to announce that this year, just as it was in previous years, her trunk was still only stocked with size A bras.

Harry was dealing the cards, but paused to reply. "I thought you hated swimming."

"I do!" she said, wrinkling her nose and shuddering. "I've hated any large bodies of water since I was young. Remember during the Triwizard Tournament when they put me under water? I was nearly frightened to death when Viktor rescued me and I awoke to find myself in the middle of the lake! I've always been scared of water. I don't know why. I always get this chill, like I know I'm going to drown. My relatives all think it's strange because I've never had any scary experiences with water, yet I'm so frightened of it. So my mum decided that it would be beneficial for me to take a swimming class this summer to overcome my fear. It didn't work. I just stood in the 3-feet-deep water and held on to the side of the pool like my life depended on it. They couldn't make me swim or go anywhere near the deep end."

She looked toward the boys in anticipation. They weren't listening.

"Looking forward to another year at Hogwarts?" asked Ron with a sarcastic forced enthusiasm. He would be surprised if she wasn't.

"I suppose," she said uncertainly, and then crinkled her face so that she resembled her cat Crookshanks. "I was really hoping that the start of this year would be great but then I'm late to the platform and the train takes off without me! Granted the conductor had a heart, he stopped it and let me on and I was almost in a good mood again. And then guess what's the first thing I just had to see upon stepping on the train?"

"What? A house-elf scrubbing the floor?" They snickered and Hermione glared at them with frustration flickering in her eyes. Understanding that unless they wanted to endure two hours of her lecturing on the mistreatment of house-elves in present day society, they muffled their laughter and shut their mouths, and let Hermione continue. "What?"

"The albino ferret exchanging saliva with some Slytherin slut!"

"You mean he hasn't been transferred to Durmstrang yet?" Harry asked with surprise. "Didn't his father threaten to transfer him if the school didn't follow his orders?"

"Who knows. I wish he would have." Hermione flipped her hair haughtily. "It's disgusting, absolutely disgusting the way he acts. All those germs. Yuck! The first thing I'm going to do when I'm the Minister of Magic is to enforce a "No Public Displays of Affection" law. And then second I'll - "

"We get the point, Hermione," Ron said as he rubbed his temples and glanced at Harry, who was on the verge of bursting into laughter. Hermione sighed realizing it was impossible to hold an intelligent conversation with these two boys.

Just at that moment, the compartment door burst open and a nervous looking Neville stepped in, with absolute terror written across his face. His legs were shaking and it looked like he could barely support himself, balancing himself with his hands on the table.

"What's wrong Neville?" she asked with concern.

"Malfoy," Neville choked, his voice to the brink of breaking.

Hermione frowned but then rolled her eyes and rose promptly from her seat, her face stern. "It's that git again. What's he done this time? Come with me Neville, I'll sort things out for you."

"Yes," said Ron as he sprang from his seat, "We'll kick his arse for you, Neville!" And then he sobered up suddenly and his face completely clouded over. "Actually, I can't."

"Why not!" said Hermione, staring viciously at him.

"You know what Malfoy can do...if I get expelled from the school Mum would probably die of shame..."

Hermione rolled up her sleeves, grabbed the sleeve of Neville's robes and began to drag him unwillingly out the door when Ron grabbed her arm to stop her. She glanced up at him in surprise.

"Don't go."

Neville shook off her hand. "Yeah, don't."

Hermione scoffed and threw off Ron's grip on her arm. "What's wrong with you boys today?"

"Nobody messes with Malfoy. You know that Hermione." His expression was so serious it almost scared her. She took a deep breath - she wouldn't let anyone intimidate her.

"I can't believe you've turned into such a coward Ronald Weasley! I'm certainly not afraid of that prat! What's a ferret going to do? Bite me?" She scowled sourly.

"Ron's right," said Neville quietly, ducking his head timidly. "Just forget about it."

"It's not alright!" she exploded. "Just because Lucius Malfoy supports the school by donating millions of galleons and the school wouldn't be able to function without his donations doesn't mean that Malfoy can always do whatever he wants like a spoiled toddler!" Hermione threw her hands up in the air in frustration, fuming so angrily that her friends could swear on their lives that there was steam rising from her ears, remotely similar to a teakettle when the water is boiling.

The three boys held expressions of yes-of-course-he-can-what-planet-are-you-from on their faces.

Hermione paused hesitantly and resolved to change her method of attack. "Okay, so the fact that he is the Slytherin quidditch captain doesn't bother me - because that means they'll be really terrible and Gryffindor will dominate, but I mean, can you believe that they made him Head Boy? I wonder how many galleons that cost Lucius!"

Harry stared down at his shoes, his green eyes melancholy. "I don't like to see that prat Malfoy always on top of things either, but if we try to do anything about it, that'll only make things worse. Hermione, don't you understand? Ever since Edward Grondal died two years ago, Lucius has been the sole monetary support to the school. If Lucius withdraws his funding, Hogwarts will fail to exist," Harry argued quietly, enunciating the last phrase carefully. "Do you want to see Dumbledore sacked? Remember last year when Ardy Dimpleworth insulted Malfoy and he was forced to transfer to Beauxbatons? Do you really want to have to go to Beauxbatons? Or worse, Durmstrang?"

Hermione slowly exhaled, trying to calm herself down, but her face still displayed her insuppressible anger and she spoke with stubbornness lining her voice. "At least Viktor will be there."

"Just a little reminder - he graduated two years ago." Harry turned his gaze on her expectantly, waiting for a reply.

"Actually, he has a part time job teaching quidditch there when he's not playing for Bulgaria," she said as matter of factly, sticking her nose haughtily into the air.

"You really want to go there?" Ron asked with obvious disbelief, staring dumbly at her.

"No!" she replied automatically, exasperated. Time for another change of attack method. "Harry, you guys didn't used to be like this. Remember we used to insult Malfoy and hex him all the time, and I don't see how it's any different now."

"Hermione, did you not hear a word I said? Lucius Malfoy is now the only person who is donating money to the school. Without him, Hogwarts wouldn't be here. The school board is too afraid of Lucius, and Dumbledore cannot overrule the board members. So that's why Draco can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. I would rather not pick a fight with Malfoy because I love Hogwarts, because this is the best wizarding school in Europe, and I really don't want to leave until I graduate. If I'm expelled because of Malfoy, I'll have to spend the rest of my life with the Dursleys! Hermione, you've met them! You know what complete bumbling idiots they are! So...I can only put up with it."

A small defeated sigh passed Hermione's lips as she finally let Harry's words sink in. "Alright, you win this time. But if Malfoy ever does anything again, I think I might just kill him."

Her last statement was said with true honesty. Many a times has she wanted to stick a knife into that idiot's neck - with or without a valid reason. She imagined the pure ecstasy that action would bring. Ah, it would certainly be better than taking drugs - not that she had ever done it, and not that she'd ever want to - but she imagined it would be much better. That reminded her of the second thing she was going to do when she became Minister of Magic - to propose a ban on all health-threatening substances, including marijuana, opium, hallucinogens and whatever else there was.

When she returned to reality, she realized room was silent except for her heavy breathing. Definitely not enjoying the sudden silence, she spoke up, hoping to lessen some of the tension that seemed to suffocate the room.

"I'll arm wrestle you, Harry."

"Ha! Prepare to lose," Harry said, his eyes twinkling, forgetting all about their previous argument.

Hermione rolled up the sleeve of her black robes. "Left arm."

"Hermione, you know that's my weak arm."

"Stop whining, Harry. It's my weak arm too." Hermione smiled mischievously and stuck out her left arm and rested it on the tabletop. "Maybe this way you won't lose so bad."

Ron and Neville crowded around them eager to watch. But Harry only stared.

"What?" she asked regarding his staring.

"What's that?"

"What's what?" She was beginning to feel self-conscious and she checked her robes to see if she had any nasty stains on them, although she was sure that she had just done the laundry the night before.

He took her hand tenderly in his and examined her wrist. "This."

Harry had turned her hand palms up and was pointing to a strange mark on her wrist with his index finger.

Ron's eyes opened wide. "Hermione! You're not attempting suicide are you?"

"Have you been trying to slit your wrist?" asked Harry with shocked concern. "What's wrong Hermione?"

And she just stared dumbfounded at them. It took her a moment before she could recover from the shock and finally speak.

"You complete idiots! That's my birthmark!" She cried exasperatedly as she looked down at the shiny silver scar-like mark that adorned her slender wrist. It was a bit funny shaped, she had always thought. The only way she could describe it was that it was sort shaped like a capital "T" with some sort of a loop that resembled an upside down tear drop, perfectly etched out on her skin with a diamond cutter's precision. She had had it for as long as she could remember, but had never really given it any thought or attention.

"Oh." That was all Harry could muster in his embarrassment.

She snatched her hand away from his clutches and pointed at the shiny lightening bolt scar on his forehead. "Have I ever asked 'Oh, Harry, have you been trying to slit your forehead'? No!"

"Sorry, sorry," he said, scratching his head like a small child, and smiling sheepishly.

Hermione kicked him playfully and grinned. "Don't worry about it."

~*~

It was already almost two weeks into school, and Hermione, stopping to think in the middle of the hall, realized how fast the days were passing. Soon, she would be out in the world, alone, unable to be under the comforting shelter of Hogwarts. Just the thought of it was terribly depressing. She would have to stop doing what she loved most in the world - learning, and have to slave away like a house-elf doing work for the Ministry that she probably wouldn't enjoy, unless of course, she herself was the Minister.

A strand of hair fell from the tight ponytail at the back of her head, as this was how she always wore it, and she tucked it behind her ear instinctively. She approached a corner and turned it, lost in her own thoughts.

Smack.

Someone or something had run into her.

Her vision began to fade slowly to black.

I have suffered from a blow to the solar plexus, thought Hermione, proud that she remembered the correct terminology. This was Hermione Granger for you - her mind still on her medi-wizard class in a situation like this when she couldn't even get enough oxygen to her brain. What was the meaning of that again? Paralysis of the diaphragm.

When she recovered from her shock of having the wind knocked out of her, and regained her breathing, she realized that the person who had ran into her was none other than her fellow Gryffindor Lavender Brown. And she was crying, Hermione noted. She had never seen Lavender cry before.

"Lavender, what's wrong?"

Lavender just shook her head, refusing to speak, her eyes so red and swollen that Hermione thought she looked nothing short of a monster - an evil ugly monster that lived in children's story books. She reprimanded herself mentally - how could she think such a mean thing about her friend while she was in tears?

Hermione put her arm around Lavender and tried to comfort her friend by patting her back, but apparently it was no use. She glanced up from Lavender's small frail shaking body and her eyes caught the sight of none other than Draco Malfoy standing in the middle of the hallway with an infamous smirk on his face. And she knew that he must have been connected. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Lavender, tell me what happened," she ordered with her stubbornness showing in her voice. When there was no reply, she took a quill from inside her robes and pressed the sharp end against the flesh of her arm, drawing blood. "If you don't tell me, I'll have to kill myself and then you'll have to live with the fact that you caused my death and I'll haunt you for the rest of my life."

Hermione wasn't actually going to do it, but hoped that she looked like she was. She didn't even think it was possible to inflict any actual harm with a quill. How can you possibly kill yourself, or come anywhere close to killing yourself with a quill? Nope, it wasn't possible.

At last Lavender nodded, afraid of what Hermione might to do herself, and began to talk in a soft whisper between her sobs. "I...I...I went to find him in his room this morning...and I saw him with Pansy...and...and they were...and it was horrible!...But I thought he loved me! I really did, Hermione! I really did..." her sobs began again.

"Who's 'he'?" Hermione asked quietly, although she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

"Draco Malfoy," Lavender breathed, letting the name roll off her tongue.

"Lavender, how could you have been so stupid?" And then upon hearing Lavender's miserable sobs, she softened again toward her friend. "It's not your fault. I won't let him get away with this."

Hermione looked up and glared murderously at Draco Malfoy who still had that nasty smirk on his face, and imagined a million ways how she could wipe it off. She tried to get Lavender to let go of her so she could go and hex Malfoy or something, but Lavender kept a tight grip.

"Don't Hermione. Don't do it for me. It's not worth it."

But Hermione threw off her friend's grasp and marched down the hall until she was face to face with her dreaded enemy Draco Malfoy. He was standing there with his hands in his pockets, letting his eyes travel lazily from her head to her toe, giving her the who-do-you-think-you-are look. She glared at him with pure hatred in her eyes, breathing heavily, her fists clenched. And then her next action surprised not only him, but herself also.

She slapped him.

The crisp sound of her hand hitting his face echoed all the way down the hall. It was a truly beautiful moment, perhaps the most satisfying few seconds she had ever had in her life.

She felt like a heroine - one of those who lived only in the legends. Maybe she would be a heroine too, she thought. Maybe one day people would say "Ah, I'm as brave as Hermione Granger, the maiden who found enough courage to slap that arrogant Draco Malfoy." And then they would spit on the ground with contempt after saying his name. Maybe she would get a trophy for special services to the school. It could be titled "Hermione The Ferret Slayer" or maybe even "Hermione The Ferret Slapper" to be more politically correct. Yeah, that had a nice ring to it.

And then, when she finally came to her senses and realized what she had done and the severity of her crime, the countless horror stories she'd heard before began flooding into her mind, and she could find the strength to do only one thing.

She fled.

~*~

Both Harry and Ron noticed how unnaturally silent Hermione was during dinner that same fateful day. Usually she was a chatterbox, and now, due to the lack of noise she was making, they knew something was wrong.

"Hermione?" said Ron, shaking her arm gently, waking her from her stupor.

"Hmm?" She looked up and seemed to stare into space, her eyes wandering around aimlessly.

"You've been acting rather strange today," said Harry.

"Did you get a 109% on your Potions quiz instead of 110%?" asked Ron, chuckling at his lame joke, which he thought was very funny.

"Harry, Ron," she said with such sadness and despair in her voice that they couldn't not take her seriously. "What would happen to me," she gulped, "if I slapped Draco Malfoy?"

They stared at her with horror. "You what?"

"So what if I did?" She scrunched her face and prepared herself for the worst.

"Transfer - transfer to Beauxbatons immediately," Harry said without hesitation.

"Or Durmstrang," Ron offered.

"This can't be that serious, right?" she asked, her voice hopeful. "You boys are way too chicken. You didn't used to be like this - we used to pick fights with him all the time."

"Hermione, circumstances change," Harry said, the tone of his voice absolutely serious.

She realized they were right, circumstances did change. And in this case, for the worse. "I'd love to beat him to a pulp...but I have learned to restrain myself."

"What would happen if I stayed?" She asked this slowly, not so sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

Harry and Ron looked nervously at each other. "Remember Annie Kinkle? The Ravenclaw beater? She accidentally elbowed him last year in the Slytherin and Ravenclaw quidditch match. Do you remember what happened to her? She had been locked in her own closet for five days before anyone found her. She was practically starved to death, and then she transferred."

"He can't make me transfer, right?" She asked with hope, although not much of it. "It'll be so absolutely debasing if I get ripped of my position and have to transfer. It would go down in the history books! I'd be shamed for life!"

"That's the one thing that Malfoy doesn't do, and he's proud of it. He doesn't ever make anyone transfer, but most people do just because they're so scared of his wrath."

"And believe me, living under his wrath isn't pleasant," added Ron. "Haven't you heard all those horror stories of what he has done to people?"

Hermione nodded and rested her head on the table, feeling miserable, but trying to be optimistic. "I'm Head Girl, he can't do anything to me." She sounded less than confident.

Their skepticism toward her words was displayed on their faces and she whimpered.

"Or can he?"

~*~

"Thank you for escorting me back to my room," said Hermione, with appreciation in her voice, as she stopped behind the portrait that led to her Head Girl dormitory.

"We just want you to be safe," Harry said. "I'm worried for you."

"Yeah, from now on, you probably shouldn't go anywhere without having someone with you."

"You're right," Hermione said and forced a weak laugh. "Safety in numbers, right?"

They nodded.

"I should be getting to bed and so should the two of you. Wouldn't want to be late for class tomorrow, would we?" Then she muttered under her breath, "If I live to see tomorrow morning."

She turned to her portrait and reached into her robes for her wand. It was then that she remembered that she had accidentally left her wand in her room. "Shoot."

"What's wrong?"

"I left my wand in my room. I can't perform the spell to unlock the portrait without my wand. Can I borrow your wand?"

"Sorry, I don't have mine." Harry said, and he truly looked it.

Ron shook his head also. "It's in my room."

"Okay," said Hermione, as she began to feel the first signs of frustration. "Maybe if we pull really hard we can pull the portrait open."

The two boys looked skeptically at Hermione, but nevertheless stepped forward to lend her a helping hand. The three of the tugged and pulled on the portrait, but it wouldn't budge. Finally, exhausted, sweaty - and very smelly, Hermione noted - Harry and Ron gave up.

"It's no use."

Hermione, as stubborn as she was, decided that if the portrait wouldn't open for her, then she'd at least curse at it to make herself feel better. Or try to curse, at least.

"You half-witted piece of canvas! You're a waste of a perfectly good wooden frame! Open up!"

The portrait clicked open.

The two boys just stared at her. "How'd you do that?"

Hermione, her eyes open wide with surprise, could only shake her head. "I don't know. I really don't know." Then she made an ugly face and stuck out her tongue. "Maybe it felt sorry for me."

The two boys were questioned her words. "Objects don't have feelings, Hermione. How did you do magic without a wand?"

Hermione stepped inside the portrait and shrugged. "It's just a coincidence or something. Anyhow, I've got to go to bed. Good night."

And with that, she swung the portrait closed.

~*~

Hermione awoke the next morning feeling very tired and groggy. Perhaps it was because she couldn't fall asleep last night. Every time she closed her eyes, she envisioned Malfoy picking her up and stuffing her in a sack and throwing her in the closet, locking her in and leaving her to die of starvation. But then when she did finally fall asleep, the dreams were even more horrid. As bad as being awake was, being asleep was even worse.

In one dream, he was chasing her through the chamber of secrets with a large machete in his hand while she was screaming bloody murder. In another, he threw her down a cliff and she fell and fell and fell down into the flaming fires of hell. And then there was the one in which he transformed himself into a dementor and was chasing after her to give her a kiss.

But as bad as they were, those dreams were only the least of her worries.

Ever since she was little, she had had nightmares - terrible nightmares every night. And it was the same thing over and over again - a dark haired sinister man standing in the shadows of a great tree, holding a red rose, offering it to her. When she was little, she would wake up crying and crying from the dream, but as she grew older she learned to control her fear.

But lately, the dream had changed. It had intensified. Instead of waking up when the man offered her a rose like she did originally, lately, she had seen herself take the rose and then the truly terrible images surface. Horrific images of the same man kissing her and holding her and touching her in ways she would blush to tell. And she would wake up screaming and drenched with cold sweat.

That was why she hated the nights, but loved the day. She loved how the sun shone into the room, lighting it up and chasing the demons away.

On this particular morning, she woke up very groggy, due to her lack of sleep, and walked almost trance-like into the bathroom and picked up her toothbrush. Of course this was the first thing she did in the mornings - her parents were dentists after all, and to them, brushing the teeth was the most important thing in the world - period. Her eyes were half closed as she squeezed what she imagined was a good-sized amount of the toothpaste onto her toothbrush and brought it up to her mouth.

She brushed slowly because she was so sleepy and it wasn't until about half minute later that she realized something was wrong. Her toothpaste tasted weird. It tasted different. A disgusting kind of different.

This finally brought Hermione back to her senses and she spit the imposter substance out instinctively. She looked into the mirror to see her teeth and what met her eyes caused her to drop her toothbrush.

Her teeth, her beautiful white teeth, she observed as her anger began to rise, was now black as a coal mine. And that's when she recognized the sickening taste in her mouth.

It was tar.

How did her perfectly good toothpaste, which she just used the night before, all of a sudden turn into tar? Someone or something must have caused that change. She wondered what kind of a person would do something like this to her. She didn't have any enemies - at least she didn't believe so. After all, nobody could hate her so much that they'd go through the trouble to sneak into her room and fill her tube of toothpaste with tar. Would they?

Her mind began to run through all the names of students at school who might have held a grudge against her for whatever reason. And then she finally realized it. She remembered what horrible event had occurred the day before. Her chocolately eyes glittered dangerously as her mind settled on one name.

Draco Malfoy, prepare to die...

~*~

TBC

~*~

A/N: As I said, this story will start on a light note, but it's supposed to be a dark story. Next chapter will be even lighter as we watch Draco and Hermione battle it out, but it will ultimately be a dark story, I warn, just in case you don't like dark stories.

And please, if you could, It would be greatly appreciated if you would review! I love reviews, and any constructive criticism is great, just don't make it too mean! Thanks!