Disclaimer: I do not own any of Ms. Rowling's wonderful creations. Nor do I own any of the various songs that may be presented throughout the length of this fanfiction. The various songs will be named at the end of the fic, as well as in the chapter within which they lie.

For the record, I have indeed seen the fourth movie. Voldemort is now my favorite character in this series for the simple fact that he is just overwhelmingly friggen COOL! This story is based off of that...obsession. Yes, I am obsessed. My friends constantly roll my eyes at me. They dared me to go a full night without saying "VOLDEMORT IS SO COOL!"...I didn't make it two hours. Hell, I didn't even make it thirty minutes. Nuff said. Here you go…this one is a bit different from all of my others. I would appreciate it if someone would like to beta this one or the other new one, Spinning Bottles. I don't have as much time as I would like to look over the chapters to ensure that they are top quality before spitting them out.

Yours,

Allison

Chapter One

Dear Penpal,

I don't suppose you are any more thrilled about this than either of my friends. I can still hear their groans and I'm in the library while they're in the dormitory. Or maybe those are just the groans of the random students around the library starting their own letters. Personally, I'm rather excited by the thought of becoming penpal with someone outside of Hogwarts. Headmistress McGonagall suggested that we direct our owls to either Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, but I think I'll just tell Riddler- My owl- to pick a random wizard. He really is a good judge of character, for an owl.

We're not supposed to tell our names in these letters, and we're not allowed to suggest a meeting until at least this summer. I suppose that's understandable, but I can also tell that it has the potential to become a great nuisance. I like to be able to see who I'm writing to. It can't be helped, though. Sometimes, it's better to get to know someone through personalities rather than looks. I've known people who were so superficial that they couldn't see past skin-deep...even when the evidence was right in front of them.

Well, perhaps I'd best let you know a little about me before I have to go to potions. My new potions professor- while not the brightest crayon in the box (as the muggles could say)- is a stickler about late students. I never thought I would admit this- even on parchment- but I rather miss our old potions professor. He was a cruel, cruel man...but at least he knew wormwood from sandalwood. I'm not so sure about Professor Barkman (Oh the humiliation that must come from that name!). What was I on about before this? Oh yes! About me. Well, I'm a seventh year at Hogwarts. I'm not supposed to tell anything that would give away my identity, you understand, so I'm forced to leave out several details that I'm quite proud of. Oh well. I'm female, and I do okay with my studies.

Oh! Look at the time! If I'm going to get this to Riddler and still make it into the dungeons in time to avoid a lecture (and detention) from Professor Barkman, I have to run!

Please write back!

Bookish Babe (Not my choice of "penname," I promise! My friends came up with it...the fools)

Hermione Granger quickly shoved her ink and quill into her bag, slinging the bag over her shoulder and tucking her hair behind her ear as she ran for the owlery. Her parents had bought her an owl for making Head Girl, and she couldn't have been happier with the creature. A snowy owl- like Hedwig- he was white with black specks. The owl's specks were in the shape of question marks, all over his snowy-white body. Remembering the muggle villain from Batman, Riddler, that was what she'd named him.

Stepping into the owlery, she looked around. Spying Hedwig and Riddler perched above her, she let out a soft three-toned-whistle. As the bigger of the two snowy owls flew down to her arm, she handed him the folded letter. "Just...find a wizard that you think worthy of a correspondance, Riddler." She said, quietly. "You know what kind of person I'd enjoy writing to. Use your best judgement." She stroked his sleek head for a moment before walking to the window and extending her arm, lifting it quickly to allow him to fly away. Watching the owl disappear into the October sky, she smiled faintly for a moment before turning and running for the dungeons.

Skidding into the potions classroom, she sat down in her usual seat and yanked out her text book moments before the hawk-like Professor Barkman swooped in. She was a revolting cross between Rita Skeeter and Argus Filch. She was shorter than most fourth years, with greasy, thin brown hair out from under which a pair of beady, rat-like black eyes glared at the students. Pale, nearly translucent flesh practically hung off of her bones, giving her an anorexic, malnourished appearance. Her fingernails were long and wicked-looking...curved over and in desperate need of a clipping.

Biting back a groan, Hermione rubbed her temples for a moment before beginning to work on the potion that- no doubt- would be under appreciated by the bastardized, whorish woman that now commanded their potions classes. Malfoy had been ridiculed until the proud Slytherin had broken down in tears in the privacy of the Head Dorms. He'd been allowed back into Hogwarts on McGonagall's insistance, and made Head Boy...again, under Minerva's insistence. At least with him sharing a dormitory with Hermione, the Headmistress had explained- discreetly- to the young woman, Hermione could keep an eye on him.

The first time Hermione'd seen him break down in tears, she'd silently backed out of the room without being seen, desperately trying to get away to think. When their vulture of a teacher had made him break down a second time, Hermione had approached him- hesitantly- and been turned away. The third time, she hadn't let him turn her away, and she'd broken through his shell. Slightly. They were halfway civil, now. Enough so that they paired up in potions, more often than not, and managed passing grades. Barely.

She began taking notes when a very different handwriting appeared on one piece of parchment beside the original parchment. Her eyes widened slightly and she glanced up at Professor Barkman before pulling out a quik quotes quill and very carefully settling it in her left hand. She was ambidextrous- both with her wand and her writing- but she couldn't take notes with one hand and write replies to Draco with the other. They'd figured out a charm similar to Tom Riddle's diary, only on parchment rather than in a book. So, with one hand following the guide of the quik quotes quill, she turned her full attention to the other piece of parchment.

What's up, Grange? You were nearly late. Hermione fought not to make a face at his nickname for her. It would be just great for Professor Barkman to notice her face and ask some random question about the lecture.

That penpal business that McGonagall has us starting. She wrote with her right hand. I finished my letter, so I ran it up to Riddler to take for me.

You've already gotten your first letter finished? Damn Grange! Overachiever much? Hermione bit her lower lip, fighting to keep from smiling.

Jealous, Mister Fluffers? She wrote.

I still want to know where you got that nickname.

Fourth Year. You made a cute, fluffy ferret. I figured you wouldn't enjoy Mister Ferret. Besides...it doesn't quite have the same ring to it that Mister Fluffers does.

There was a cry of outrage from two rows in front of her. Professor Barkman whirled, her beady eyes narrowing. "What was that, Mister Malfoy?" Sne sneered.

Quick! Tell her that you fully agree with her theory that the Ministry's banning of Morbisa Liana is completely unnecessary and absolutely without base! Hermione wrote.

"I...I just..." He paused for a long moment. Probably to read what Hermione had jotted down after a desperate glance towards her notes.

"Yes, Mister Malfoy?"

"I just...was...outraged...and appalled...that Morbisa Liana is banned by the ministry." He stuttered out, recovering his charisma. "It's completely unnecessary, and utterly without base!" His voice was firm and strong.

"I see..." Barkman stared at the blonde for a long moment before turning back to her board and continuing her lecture. Hermione and Draco both relaxed as one. Harry- who was beside her- glanced over in amusement. He'd been reading over her shoulder- as usual.

Thanks, Grange. I thought I was dead for sure!

No problem, Dee. She scrawled easily. After all, if you get in trouble, my ass is grass too. Barkman holds grudges, and you're my lab partner.

Oh sure...bail me out for your own ass. Not for me. I see how it is.

Hermione smiled behind her hand before glancing up at their professor, an earnest expression on her face. Oh, you know I love you. Now...are you done writing notes to me? She's going to notice that you're not taking notes from the lecture...

I suppose...I guess I'd better get started on that Penpal deal anyway. Hey Grange...

Yeah?

...Nevermind. I'll see you back in our common room. Hermione frowned slightly, glancing at Harry before looking up at Professor Barkman once more.

randomwordsindicatingscenebreak

His eyes glinted slightly as he looked at the rather foul tempered owl that had brought him the letter. "She wants a reply..?" When the bird gave him a 'Well duh' look, he let a smirk twist at his pale lips. After several long moments, he nodded and moved to a desk, pulling out a piece of strange green parchment. Another amused glance at the bird, and he sat down and began to write.

Once the letter was finished, he cast a simple drying spell and picked up the letter, folding it and slipping it into a green envelope, sealing it with silver wax. Writing her penname on the front, he stood and walked to the snowy owl waiting. "Back to your mistress, post haste." He said, quietly. The owl hooted softly and took flight, disappearing into the night. He stood silently and walked to the window, watching it...a white speck in the night...for a long moment before he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

ohjoyheresanotherscenebreakforya

Hermione and Harry broke out into laughter as Ron finished up one of his latest jokes, striking a pose on the top of the table. Once they'd alll finished, they walked towards the doors of the Great Hall, still talking quietly. There was a loud screech from up above and Hermione turned, spotting Riddler as he circled. She gave a three-toned-whistle and held up her right arm. The giant owl landed on her forearm and handed her the letter in an odd green envelope.

Harry looked at the letter and let out a short gasp, pressing his hand to his scar. "Harry? What is it?" Hermione asked, taking a step towards him.

"Nothing...just a twinge. Nothing big." Harry said. Hermione and Ron looked worriedly at each other as Hermione picked a piece of chicken up off of a table to one side, giving it to Riddler, who snatched it from her hand. She lifted her hand quickly, letting him spread his wings and fly off. Slipping the envelope into the book that she'd brought to the table with her, she turned back to her conversation as the three proceeded on from the hall. After several flights of stairs, the three parted ways, and Hermione moved down the hall and around a corner and up two more flights of stairs before arriving at a portrait of ten dragons, swooping around and blowing fire at random intervals.

"Ferret Grange." She stated softly and the dragons all turned, flying towards her in a fierce rush as the portrait swung open. She ducked on instinct before sighing and glaring at the portrait's back and walking into the common room beyond. As the portrait swung closed, Hermione set her bookbag on the floor beside her favorite chair and sank into her chair. Just as she was about to pull the letter from the book, the door flung open and she heard a choked breath. Her eyes flew to the door as Draco stumbled in, blood trailing down his face.

She was on her feet in moments, running for the door with her wand drawn. Blaise Zabini was unprepared to find a furious Gryffindor with her wand at his throat, her eyes narrowed. "Zabini. What are you doing here?" She snarled.

"Bringing Draco in. He fell off his broom."

"Fell? Or was pushed?" Hermione shoved him against the wall.

"I don't know." Blaise choked. "One minute he was there, the next he was falling...I don't know what happened."

"Find out." Hermione snapped. He nodded, shakily, and turned, all but running down the hallway. The witch spun to where the blonde was emptying his gut on the floor.

"Grange?" He sobbed out. "Grange..."

"I'm here. I'm here. Shh. Calm down, Draco..." She knelt by him and gently helped him up the stairs and gently into his bed. He rolled over and wretched, sending stomach bile flying to the floor as Hermione held his head in her lap and stroked his hair back from his face. When he was finally finished, she eased him back into the bed. "Don't get used to being pampered, Malfoy." She whispered in his ear, causing him to laugh softly as she began to heal him slowly.

"Thank you, Grange." He whispered, his eyes drifting closed as he curled close to her. She continued whispering soft spells, fully healing him. "Where'd you learn to heal, anyway?"

"Harry's aunt an uncle are abusive, and I have a funny uncle."

"Why would you need to know how to heal for an uncle who tells jokes?"

"Not that kind of uncle...a funny uncle is an adult male relative who sexually abuses you." Hermione explained. He went still, very suddenly.

"I'll kill him. Who was he?" He was half out of the bed- despite being half-asleep and disoriented- before she could push him back down. Gently settling him in, she shushed him gently.

"It's taken care of...I never have to go back...shhh...you need rest. Anyway, due to those things, I studied up a lot over the summer on healing spells and potions. Lie still, now. I'll be back." She turned and walked quietly out of the room, returning a bit later with a potion vial.

"What is that?" He murmured.

She slid an arm behind his shoulders and lifted him gently, placing the vial against his lips. "It's a dreamless sleep potion, mixed with a couple of healing potions that I've worked into the formula."

"Thank you." He whispered, closing his eyes and drifted to sleep. Hermione sighed softly and walked calmly out of the room. Sighing, she finally sat down and pulled free her letter, breaking open the seal.

Dear Bookish Babe,

I find your confidence in this dumb brute that you call an owl and his judgment overwhelmingly foolish. For all you know, I could be some exceedingly famous Dark Lord. Though I can see where a child such as yourself might find such a correspondance quite invigorating, I'm at a loss to see how becoming a- what did you call it? A penpal?- with someone is particularly exciting.

It's a pity that you're not allowed to tell names, or suggest meetings...it would be quite...delightful...to be able to meet you. A great nuisance indeed. At least you shall have this...mind-boggling...letter writing to determine the depths of my intelligence. I must say I have to disagree on your theory of personalities versus looks. I have met people who look like something a dragon regurgitated, and their personalities are just about the same, if not even more nasty.

I find your perkiness astoundingly grating. Your potions professor probably finds it twice as much so. Have you ever read a depressing book? I'd assume not, since you seem to have gotten the idea in your head that getting to know each other through letters is a good idea. So I am safely assuming, I believe, that I'd best tell you something about myself? Now, what were your rules? Oh yes, we cannot give anything away as to our identity. Very well. I am male.

And there you have it, I have written.

Exceedingly Annoyed