Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

His White Queen: A Prequel	By : jsu1660n Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 18950 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter, neither the characters from the books or movies. I receive no profit from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter Seven

Hermione sat beside her best friend on the verge of tears. He had been shocked frozen when the headmaster called out his name. She pulled herself together for Harry’s sake and shook his shoulder to pull him from his daze.

“Harry, go. You have to go. Go on!”

She grabbed his arm pulling him up from the bench. His eyes met hers and within the depths of his shining emeralds, she saw so much fear. He was almost as pale a white in the face as Malfoy.

“Hermione, I swear…”

“I know,” she hugged him quickly. “I will wait for you, I promise. Just go now.”

Reluctantly, he pulled away from her. He looked around him as he took the long, slow walk towards the headmaster. The students had started calling Harry a cheater, and some other choice names that made Hermione’s wand hand hot.

She turned around to see Ron watching Harry’s retreating back with so much scorn in his eyes it made her ill just to look at him. She grabbed his chin, turning his gaze to her. “You wipe that look off your face this instant, Ronald Weasley.”

Ron slapped her hand away from his face. He stood, oblivious to the attention they had attracted. “For all I know, you were in on it with him. It’s obvious how close you two are now!” he exclaimed.

“I wouldn’t, mate,” Seamus muttered to Ron as they took in the way Hermione’s magic encased her like a soft blue aura.

“I suppose you are right, Ron, considering how much you actually don’t know.”

“Well, will you look at this,” Malfoy called as Hermione closed her eyes and breathed through her nose to calm down. “Having a lover’s spat, Weasel?” he said obnoxiously as the Slytherins laughed. “It’s funny,” he approached them slowly as Crabbe and Goyle flanked him like a pair of faithful hounds. “Your best mate is an attention-seeking cheater, and your muddy little girlfriend gapes her thighs for him, but wait,” he said, pretending to think. “When I saw her at the Quidditch World Cup, she was—.”

He never finished that sentence as Ron jumped across the table to attack him. Then all hell broke loose. With the teachers in the other room discussing Harry’s entry into the Tournament no one was around to break up the growing fight between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

In Hermione’s head, Meira was literally jumping up and down and clapping for all of the entertainment she received on Hermione’s first day back.

“Oh my gosh, this is awesome!” Ginny gasped, hanging on Hermione’s arm, watching Malfoy crawl into a safe corner as blood gushed from his nose.

“Ginny, I have to go get the professors before they kill each other.”

Or worse, your House loses all of its points!

“Ok, go, go. I’m going to get that nasty Pansy with a Bat Boogey!” Ginny grinned evilly.

Hermione dashed off towards where she saw Harry and the other Champions disappear to, relishing in the sound of Pansy’s squeal. Guess Ginny hit her target.

She stood back, unable to hear what the professors were saying and she assumed that they charmed the room for privacy. Hermione did something she never wanted to do. She used her telepathy to delve inside of Phlegm Delacour’s mind, focusing only on the conversation going on around her.

“…ask one of the older students to do it for you?”

She saw the headmaster practically shaking Harry in all of his panic over his name coming from the Goblet of Fire.

“No, sir.”

“Did you ask one of the older students to do it for you?”

“No, sir.”

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Yes. Yes, sir.”

“But of course he is lying,” Madame Maxime accused.

“The hell he is!” Moody argued.” The Goblet of Fire is an exceptionally powerful magical object. Only an exceptionally powerful Confundus Charm could have hoodwinked it. Magic beyond the talents of a fourth year.”

“You seem to have given this a fair bit of thought, Mad-Eye,” Karkaroff said scornfully.

“It was once my job to think as dark wizards do, Karkaroff…perhaps you remember,” Professor Moody said in such a voice that she could feel a tremor of fear inside the girl’s mind.

“This doesn’t help, Alastor. Leave this to you, Barty,” Dumbledore said to Mr. Crouch.

“The rules are absolute. The Goblet of Fire constitutes a binding magical contract. Mr. Potter has no choice. He is, as of tonight…a Triwizard Champion.”

Harry nervously toyed with the piece of burned parchment that held his name as all eyes focused on him. Hermione withdrew from Phlegm’s mind and dashed into the room, wand in hand.

“I am so sorry to interrupt, headmaster, but —.”

“What are you doing in here, you insipid girl? Ten points from Gryffindor for your rude and might I say, unwanted presence, Miss Granger,” Snape said, almost dangerously.

Take it easy, ‘Mi. He may be a prat that deserves it, but remember who else is watching, Meira whispered when Hermione lifted her wand, twirling it between her fingers. She folded her arms across her chest. Her gaze pure ice as she twirled the wand idly between her fingers. Moody tilted his head, taking in the sudden change in her demeanor. Karkaroff blinked as though he were seeing a ghost.

“Well, that is fine, professor,” she said, wearing a smirk worthy of Salazar Slytherin himself. “Take as many points as you wish, after all it only supports the belief that the students of Slytherin are not good enough to win the House Cup on their own merit.”

Hermione heard the twin gasps from both Harry and Cedric. No one had ever spoken to the professor in such a way. The headmaster sighed, rubbing his forehead, but otherwise making no attempts at intervening.

“Why you insolent, little –.”

“Know-it-all, insufferable chit, teacher’s pet with a rat’s nest for hair,” she said, ticking the list of insults off her fingers. “Am I forgetting any?”

“I can think of one,” he said through gritted teeth.

“How dare you?” Harry said, rushing to her defense as the professor so obviously was referring to the M-word.

Hermione laughed in such a way that all of the attention returned to her. “No, professor, I think I will leave that particular name to your pet Malfoy, seeing as how he is so fond of using it. By the way, as entertaining as this back and forth is, and you docking points from me, it may please you to know that there is a brawl going on in the Great Hall,” her smirk widened as the professor’s eye twitched sporadically.

“What?” Dumbledore yelled, furiously.

Hermione turned away from Snape as though he were no longer important. The familiar twinkle was long gone from the headmaster’s eyes.

“The professor’s precious snakes started attacking Gryffindor the second you lot left.”

“Professors, follow me,” Dumbledore said to the teachers. “The rest of you are dismissed,” he called to the Champions over his shoulder.

Once they were gone, both Harry and Cedric rounded on her. “What do you mean they were fighting? Are you hurt?”

“The whole of Slytherin and Gryffindor?” Cedric said.

“It was Malfoy, wasn’t it?” Harry seethed.

“Whoa, whoa, stop!” Hermione said, holding her hands up. “It’s going to take the professors a while to sort this all out so…I don’t know, why don’t we go to the library or something?”

She didn’t wait for an answer as she left the room. Two minutes later, Hermione and the four Champions were settled in her secret study area of the library.

“Ron punched him and everyone just started fighting,” she sighed, feeling a headache coming on.

Harry stood behind Hermione’s chair, massaging her shoulders. “I am so sick of Malfoy. As if anyone actually believes we’re shagging.”

At that moment, he worked out a particularly large knot in Hermione’s neck, making her gasp and moan.

“Yes, I cannot imagine why he would think such a thing,” Cedric said, dryly.

Hermione and Harry both rolled their eyes. “Bet you and Cho have done worse,” Harry muttered.

“Anyway,” Hermione said when Cedric raised his eyebrows, preparing to answer Harry’s comment. “You all know that Harry didn’t put his name in the Goblet, right?”

Silence echoed in the library.

“Vell, he vants to be Champion, no?” Krum said, speaking up for the first time. “Vants to, how you say, impress you, da?”

Wow.

“Ze boy eez lying! Who else could ‘ave done eet?”

“You little French—.”

“Hermione!” Harry said, covering her mouth. “There is no need to be rude. I don’t expect any of you to believe me, but I did not put my name in the Goblet.”

Hermione removed Harry’s hand from her mouth. “Cedric, you have been at Hogwarts longer than these two. You know what Harry has gone through with Voldemort.” He winced slightly. “Do you honestly believe that he has any interest in putting his life at risk for eternal glory? Something, might I remind you two naysayers, he already has!”

Cedric and Viktor Krum both had the decency to look properly ashamed of their accusations. Phlegm however had her arms stubbornly folded across her chest with her nose in the air.

“Of course, ze girl defends him! You are ‘ez lover!”

Hermione stood and Harry, noticing the look in her eyes, retreated several steps backwards. Her French was flawless as she held the girl’s gaze.

~ *Miss Delacour, you don't know me, nor do you know Harry. I would advise you to keep your stupid remarks to yourself. You are no longer at Beauxbatons. It would be a shame if some of Harry's housemates heard about what you said here tonight. Who knows what may happen between now and your first task. There are places inside this castle where a little croissant such as yourself can simply disappear. Do you understand what I am saying to you?* ~

There was something in Hermione’s voice. Something that stirred in her brown eyes made the French girl pale. She nodded silently.

“I apologize,” she said softly to Harry, losing all of her previous attitude.

Hermione smiled brightly and brought her hands together. “Good. Now, the four of you are Triwizard Champions, apart from Harry, I cannot imagine what possessed you to do something so foolish and life threatening, but that’s neither here nor there. This will be hard. Most likely the hardest thing any of you will ever do. It goes without saying that I will be helping Harry every step of the way, and Cedric as well, if he wishes. In light of magical cooperation, I will do what I can to help both of you as well, if you would like.”

Krum and Delacour looked thoughtful, but did not make a move to accept her offer. It was fine with Hermione. Her top priority was ensuring that Harry made it through the Tournament unscathed.

“I vill consider your offer.” Krum bowed and left the library.

Fleur stood and smoothed out the wrinkles on her blouse. She nodded once to Hermione and Harry and left the library without another word.

“Well, that was interesting to say the least,” Cedric stretched, smiling as though he had just won the lottery. “Hermione, may I have a word?”

Hermione glanced over at Harry who managed a slight smile in spite of all of the night’s stress. “I’ll be waiting for you outside, ‘Mione.”

“Keep your wand handy. I expect the Slytherins will be looking for retribution,” she warned him. When he was gone from sight, she turned back to Cedric. “What did you—?”

Cedric took her face in his hands and crashed his lips onto hers. Hermione moaned and ran her hands through his wild hair. He pulled back, kissing her neck. “I’ve been waiting to do this since we got back.”

He picked her up and sat her on the table, letting her wrap her legs around his waist. “Cedric, I, oohh, that’s nice,” she moaned. “Cedric, wait, wait,” she said, lightly pushing at his chest.

“What?” his eyes were unfocused and filled with lust as he looked at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Two things,” she said, taking a breath. “One, I’m not going to fuck you on top of this table.”

“Virgin?” he questioned, seriously.

“Yes.”

“Ah, got it. What else?” he started kissing her neck again, making her lose focus for a second.

“And two, since you and I are…friendly, how would you feel about Harry being friendly with Cho?”

He stopped kissing her. Hermione was worried that she upset him. But when he looked at her, he had a huge grin on his face.

“This little seduction bit wouldn’t be a ploy to tempt me into letting your friend have his wicked way with my girlfriend, would it, Miss Granger?” he teased, thumbing her hardened nipples through her shirt.

“No, my attraction for you has nothing to do with Harry. But would it bother you?” she said, nibbling on her lower lip.

His eyes lowered to her lip, darkening slightly. “It might…but you would console me, wouldn’t you, Hermione?”

Picking up on his subtle meaning, Hermione took Cedric’s hand and led him over to the large chair by the window. It was completely dark on that side of the library and Hermione could just make out the shape of Cedric’s body.

She straddled his lap as he kissed her hungrily, grounding his erection between her thighs. She removed his Hufflepuff necktie and tied it around his eyes. He squeezed her tighter, enjoying the total darkness. As his hands roamed over her clothed breasts, she unbuttoned his shirt, trailing her fingers up and down his abs. Thank Godric for Quidditch.

She twirled her tongue around the shell of his ear, sucking his earlobe into her mouth. He shivered lightly underneath her. She threw her blouse onto the floor, suddenly glad that she had made the decision to go braless for the day. The cool air hit her nipples, stiffening them to points. She took Cedric’s hands and guided them to her breasts.

He groaned. “They feel so soft,” he whispered.

His large hands caressed her breasts and tweaked her nipples sending shocks straight down to her clit. He leaned forward taking one in his mouth sucking it as it hardened more against his tongue. His free hand went around her to squeeze her ass.

“More, Cedric. Please more,” she moaned.

He answered her calls by slipping his hand underneath her panties. “Yes,” she moaned. His trained fingers slipped between her wet, swollen lips seeking her snitch – so to speak. He held her throbbing nub between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it as she whimpered needfully.

Hermione blissfully withdrew the control she had over her mind, body, and magic. She propped her feet up on the cushions outside of Cedric’s thighs. She leaned back, hands on his legs, opening herself up to him. The scent of her sex and the pulse of her magic surrounded them.

“Get me off, Cedric,” she ordered.

Cedric was suddenly grateful that she had blindfolded him. He knew Hermione could be uninhibited if she wanted to, but hearing her order him so callously left him harder than he had ever been.

Eagerly, he slid one finger inside of her warm, soaking virgin hole, hissing as her walls tightened around his fingers. He added another, and another until he was three deep in the Gryffindor Princess’ greedy little cunt.

She rode his fingers expertly. As she moaned and rocked, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. She could see her eyes glowing gray. She licked her lips, smiling deceptively. She leaned forward, slipping her hands through his unruly hair. He met her halfway, expecting a kiss. But at that moment, she yanked his head back harshly. He gasped as she bit and sucked his neck hard. His cock twitched beneath them and she knew that Cedric, loyal, sweet little Cedric, had an inner masochist.

She leaned over to his ear, biting and sucking his earlobe. “Tell me you want me to make you come, Cedric.”

“I want you to make me come, Hermione. Sweet Merlin, please make me come!”

She laughed breathily, raising her body slightly to unzip Cedric’s pants. She used her magic to help ease them down his legs, but he was so far gone, he was none the wiser.

His hard cock sprang forth. It was of average length, but incredibly thick. “How the hell do you sit on a broom with all that?” she gasped.

He laughed breathlessly, and then groaned when he felt her soft, warm fingers smearing the leaky drops of come from his deep red tip.

She muttered a spell and a self-sustaining lubricant appeared all over her palm and fingers. She wrapped her hand around his cock stroking painfully slow. The second he started thrusting into her hand she released him and tugged on his hair.

“Now, now, lover, did I say that you could move? Did I?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry…?” she prompted.

“I’m sorry, milady,” he groaned desperate for her touch.

“You really are a good boy, aren’t you, Cedric? Perhaps your Lady should award you,” she whispered.

She closed her eyes, recalling a spell long forgotten. She cast it silently. Cedric began panting without her having to touch him. With the spell, every inch of his body felt as though it were being licked and caressed.

He redoubled his efforts as he fingered her. Hermione moved both hands in tandem with Cedric’s fingers. Whenever she felt that he was just on the verge of climaxing, she would change her rhythm. She let her magic get a little darker and used it to strengthen the buildup of Cedric’s climax until he begged her for it.

“Please, Hermione. Please, please, please,” he begged, his body soaked in sweat.

She rode his hand, moaning and gasping as her orgasm consumed her. At the same time, she fondled Cedric’s sack. Her magic pulsed through him and a split second later, he came all over her chest, groaning deeply.

She slumped against him, giving herself a moment to catch her breath.

“How did you learn that?” he panted as she removed the blindfold.

“You pick up a few things along the way.”

Possessively, his eyes raked over her pale skin covered with his seed. It pleased her to see the devouring glint in his not-so-innocent eyes.

“I trust that no one else gets these wonderful little nighttime adventures.” His finger twirled around her nipple, lubricating it with his fluids. She shuddered delicately.

“No other male,” she winked.

She felt his cock twitch at her implications. “Down boy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Harry is still waiting for us.”

She stood a bit shakily and scourgified her body. Two minutes later, they were both cleansed and dressed. They found Harry standing in the corridor looking morose.

“Took you two long enough,” he pushed off the wall. “Bloody prefects would have caught me had I not summoned my cloak.”

“Sorry, Harry,”

“Yes, we were a little preoccupied.” Cedric drew Hermione into his arms, giving her a long, devouring kiss as Harry politely pretended to stare at something interesting on the ceiling. “I’ll see you soon, milady,” he whispered in her ear. “Oh, and Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Cho likes red tulips.”

Hermione saw the first glimmer of a genuine smile grace Harry’s lips. Cedric parted ways from them and the duo quietly crept inside the Gryffindor Common Room. By the time they made it in, the room was completely deserted. Sensing that Harry needed to rant she cast a quick Muffliatio over the room.

“This is bullshit, Hermione!” he said, pacing the floor before the fireplace. She watched his pacing as she seated herself comfortably on the sofa. Crookshanks slinked inside the room and hopped onto Hermione’s lap. He purred contently as she scratched behind his ears. “It isn’t enough that I have this shit with Voldemort constantly hanging over my head, now I have to compete in some stupid bloody tournament?”

“This must be tied in to him somehow. The plans that the Dark Lord wasn’t strong enough for – this must be it.”

“If that’s the case, then we have to be on our guard. One of his followers must have gotten into the castle somehow.”

“Do you think one of the older Slytherins might have done it?”

“The children of his followers? It’s possible. But I’m still betting on Karkaroff.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure, Harry. He seemed pissed when he realized Hogwarts might have two Champions. He doesn’t strike me as the type to act so well.”

He glanced back at her thoughtfully. “How did you know he was pissed? He didn’t really give a reaction until we were all alone in the other room.”

Hermione inwardly swallowed her distaste over lying. “I overheard some of the argument when I came in to tell Dumbledore about the fight.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t sure that Harry believed her, but he seemed to let it go. Then he groaned. “I forgot about the fight. How much do you want to bet that I’m going to get the blame for that?”

“Only because Malfoy made a show of trashing you once you left. Let me worry about Malfoy, Harry,” she said. He shivered slightly noticing the barely veiled malice in her voice. “Okay, seventh year Slytherins, possibly Karkaroff. Who else?” she said, wracking her brain as to who could have set him up.

“How about Snape? He hates me enough.”

She could only smile. According to Harry, Snape was the Antichrist. “Harry, as much as I am inclined to agree with you on his hatred for you, I doubt the professor would risk his job, not to mention his freedom, by entering your name illegally when it’s just as easy to take points and insult you to your face.”

He seemed to consider her argument. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Maybe one of Voldemort’s followers was an Animagus like Pettigrew. What if it was Pettigrew himself?”

It was possible, but Hermione figured if Pettigrew fled ministry apprehension to find protection from the Dark Lord, weakened or not, she doubted he would take a risk as big as coming back to Hogwarts.

“Could be,” she said carefully to not distress her friend anymore than he already was. “Or it could be the man we saw at the World Cup. He seemed willing to do anything to get to you.” Hermione felt that there was something familiar about the man, but she could not put her finger on it. It was like being on the verge of a memory only to have it fade away when you start to think of it too much.

“Question is, how did he get inside the castle?”

“Polyjuice Potion?” she guessed.

“Either that or he used the Imperius on a student to do it for him.” Harry closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I just wonder what he will get out of having you compete. It makes no sense to me.”

“You think he intends for me to die in this tournament?” he spoke softly, staring into the dancing flames of the fireplace.

Hermione’s stomach lurched at the idea of losing her best friend. She put Crookshanks on the couch. She stood behind him as he still refused to tear his eyes away from the flames. She hugged him, laying her head on his back.

“There is so much happening right now, Harry. I keep hoping that if we fight it, we can change it. But now, I’m starting to think that if we fight it, it makes everything worse.”

“You feel it too, don’t you? You feel our world slowly slipping through your fingers.”

“I do. I can’t say what’s going to happen to either of us three years from now, or even three days from now. But I do know this. As long as there is a breath in my body, I won’t let him kill you.”

He tilted his head back resting it against hers, touching her hand. In that moment, Harry knew that it didn’t matter if all of his housemates abandoned him. It didn’t matter if the entire school turned against him. He knew Hermione would never leave or betray him.

It was late in the evening before she had a breakthrough with her spells. For the past year and a half, Meira spent her time researching Muggle-borns and Squibs. She just could not find a magical reason for the lack of magic in Squibs.

She deduced that while Muggle-borns come from Squibs who married Muggles, Squibs themselves are a result of gene suppression, and possibly too many generations of inbreeding. But Meira knew she would offend the majority of her husband’s followers if she were to say that aloud.

Tom had executed three prisoners that morning. They had attacked several families who supported the Dark Lord, despite that they were unMarked followers. Thanks to that filthy backstabber Regulus Black, many of the silent supporters were, dead, imprisoned, or forced underground.

Despite what Dumbledore liked to tell hisfollowers, Tom did not hate and wish to exterminate Muggle-borns, though many of his followers did. No, if any Muggle-born swore fealty and carried his Mark, he protected them. After all, power was power. As for the Muggles, it would be foolish to attempt to wipe them from the face of the Earth, what with their numerous weapons and military advancements. Instead, he sought to regulate them. The Muggle to Wizard ratio was too far and wide apart. Should the Muggles start to believe again as they once did in Salem, the wizarding world would stand no chance against them and their weapons.

She sighed, drawing her attention back to the matter at hand. Before the three prisoners were executed, Meira went inside their cells and extracted their magic. Many didn’t realize that when a witch or wizard dies, the magic dies with them. Why waste perfectly good magic?

With help from Tom, Helena, and the portraits of Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin, she created a spell that would extract a large portion of the witch or wizard’s magical core and contain it in a single crystal. Why was this important? There were more Squibs in their world than they originally knew. No Pureblood or even Halfblood wanted to adhere to having a Squib in the family. They were like the dirty little secret you kept locked in the closet. The ministry disregards Squibs and even refuses to allow them any type of magical education. This was a sensitive issue for Meira seeing as how her mother was a Squib, a Squib who held an abundance of knowledge concerning Potions. Had they received better care from the ministry officials, who knows where they would be now?

With this in mind, a few of the unknown Squibs came together. They sought out the Dark Lord for protection from the hateful Purebloods.

They agreed to serve the Dark Lord (as Squibs were able to work in the non-magical sectors of the Ministry and no one would suspect a Squib to support him) in exchange for undergoing the magical suppression experiments Meira conducted.

She was no fool. She knew every witch and wizard’s magic was compatible specifically for that witch or wizard, but with the correct enchantments and the exact amount of magic transferred from the absorption crystals, she could use the spark to awaken a Squib’s suppressed magic. A spark was all she needed.

So far, Meira had lost two of her husband’s followers to these experiments, but today would be the day she made a breakthrough, she just knew it.

Today’s volunteer was Elizabeth Prence. She was a Squib who was in her late thirties. Both her parents were Purebloods, yet Elizabeth herself was unable to perform any type of magic.

She was already lying on the examination table in Meira’s labby the time she made it in.

“Good evening, Elizabeth.”

“Good evening, milady,” she smiled.

“How are you?”

“Nervous. Excited. And you?”

“Very well, thank you for asking.” Meira wore her leather gloves because she didn’t want to risk the contact from handling an absorption crystal with her bare skin. She did not use any magic when handling the crystal because it may interfere with her experiment. Elizabeth had already opened her robes. “I will place the crystal on your chest and begin the spell. Let me know if you feel anything. Do you understand?”

“Yes, milady.”

“Good.” she placed the crystal on Elizabeth’s chest and began chanting in Latin. Elizabeth lay perfectly still, watching Meira in undisguised awe. A soft white light flared from the crystal engulfing Elizabeth’s body.

The woman gasped lightly as a tingling warmth swept through every inch of her. The crystal dimmed and Meira completed the chant.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel like I am floating, milady.”

She removed the crystal and returned it to its storing place. “Summon that quill on the desk. The incantation is Accio.”

Elizabeth sat up on the table and held a hand towards the quill. She glanced nervously at Meira. Breathing deeply, she said loudly and clearly, “Accio quill!”

The quill trembled slightly.

“Again.”

“Accio quill!”

“Again, Elizabeth.”

“Accio quill!”

“Again. Visualize it in your hand,” she said firmly.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a breath. “Accio quill!” this time the quill rose from the desk and floated towards her open hand.

Meira felt a rush of excitement as she watched the quill float towards Elizabeth. But the quill stopped short just as Elizabeth gasped and clutched her chest. “Milday!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Hot, too hot!”

“What?” she wasn’t making any sense. Meira quickly scanned her mind. Her chest was burning, a burn that was rapidly spreading through every inch of her body. Before Meira could attempt to call for a Healer, Elizabeth gave a long, anguished scream. She slumped backwards on the table, blood pouring from her nose, mouth, eyes, and ears. Her body shook and convulsed. When she was dead, her milky skin was blackened and cracked all over. The stench of burnt, rotting flesh filled the room. “Dammit, dammit fucking dammit!” she hissed.

She called for one of the lower level Death Eaters to remove the body so that she could return her to her family the next day. She Apparated back to Black Sea Manor. She was livid, and her magic pulsed around her dangerously.

She came to the back of the Manor. In the last two years, she had had a magical hot springs added to the property. It was as wide and as large as Muggle in-ground pool, except the water was continuously warm and produced steam that gave the backyard a misty veil of privacy.

It was almost always cold in Russia, especially at the Manor where the presence of her mother was missed. Fortunately, her grandmother was entirely too stubborn to let go and perpetually “haunted” the Manor after her death, living up to her title as the Lady in White.

Thankfully, she stayed away today, sensing that Meira was not in the mood to talk to anyone. She stripped naked and submerged herself in the very hot water. She swam all the way to the bottom before rising back up.

“Having an evening dip?”

She gasped and swam backwards, startled by her husband’s sudden appearance. In all of her anger and grief, she failed to notice his presence. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, Tom?” she said, glaring halfheartedly.

“Touchy. This wouldn’t be about the dead body in the lab that Ihad absolutely nothing to do with, would it?” he teased.

She looked up towards him. The steam was so thick that she could only make out the faint outlines of his black robes and boots. Beneath his hood, his blood red eyes shined down on her like rubies.

“Tom, please, I really don’t want to talk about it.” She turned away from him, leaning back against the wall. “Join me?” she pouted.

“If I must,” he sighed, failing in his attempts at sounding harassed.

Meira closed her eyes, listening to the rustling sounds of his robes falling down. He slipped into the water beside her silently. His strong muscled arms came around her. She sighed a bit wistfully. He was wearing his normal glamour. Tom was by no means a vain man, but for some reason, he never appeared to her in his Lord Voldemort appearance unless they were in the presence of his Death Eaters. Her heart started to race when she remembered the time he remained in his Lord Voldemort guise after a Death Eater meeting and let her ride him while he sat on his throne.

“You refuse to let that go, don’t you, darling?” he whispered in her ear.

“So if I understand you, it is perfectly fine for you to use our bond to read my mind, but if I use telepathy to read yours –.”

“You will receive a healthy dose of my Cruciatus,” he finished, kissing her on top of her head.

“Very nice, Tom,” she sighed. “I don’t understand what I am doing wrong. It was working! Elizabeth was in the process of summoning a quill before the magic burned her alive.”

“Perhaps it is the Runes you are using.” She felt him slip inside her mind seamlessly. “Ah, that would explain the problem.”

“What?”

“You are combining the Rune of Light and Dark without using the Healing Runes.”

“But while the Healing Runes will prevent death or physical harm from a magical backlash, it would reverse the transfer.”

“Only because you are weaving too much from the crystals into your subject’s magical core. You only need a spark, remember? And it would also help if you would scan your subjects core to determine which crystal they are most compatible with.”

Meira closed her eyes, letting Tom’s lecture wash over her. It was much like their days at Hogwarts where they were always competing for the best marks and the most points for their respective houses.

“Getting nostalgic, are we?” he guessed.

“Only a bit. Those were the best years of my life. Everything was so promising and simple back then.”

“And it’s not now?”

Meira did not need to read her husband’s mind to know that he was taking her words out of context.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Tom. Dumbledore has already done so much to us, and I would feel so much better if he would just keel over already.”

He laughed and her stomach clenched at the sound. “It wouldmake things simpler.” His arms that had previously been positioned possessively around her waist moved. Her eyes closed as his left hand groped and tweaked her nipples and his right cupped her throbbing sex wonderfully. “Do you see it as I, my queen? The portraits of the former headmasters pleading for mercy as they are forced to watch us kill the old man? His disgusting blood lining the walls.”

Meira moaned, grinding against her husband’s hardened cock as he painted the image perfectly in her head. “Yes, I see it. Skinning him alive as he lay paralyzed, unable to even scream. And when it’s done,” she panted through the mind-gasm she was having. “You and I will stand side by side in the Ministry of Magic, the Death Eaters and loyal supporters surrounding us as you hold Dumbledore’s severed head, and the entire wizarding world falls to its knees before you.”

She used their bond to push the image in his mind. He growled excitedly. His hand knotted in her hair, wrenching her head back roughly.

“Always the little tease, wife,” he said, nibbling on her earlobe.

“I try.” she sighed contently, basking in the security of her husband’s embrace.“How was your day?”

He pulled her further back into him, his hard cock grinding comfortably into her backside. “The illustriousheadmaster is gaining more members to his Order every day.”

This was just what Meira did not need to hear. “What’s wrong with these people? Don’t they see that what we are doing will benefit our world for years to come?”

“From what I have learned over the years, darling, is that people, wizards and Muggles alike, are just like sheep. Whoever bleats the loudest will have the most followers.”

Meira could not ignore the strange tiredness in her husband’s tone. And though he was very good at hiding his emotions, she could feel that something was troubling him. “Tom, is there something wrong?”

“Other than the usual, you mean?” he kissed her shoulder, distracting her slightly. “I had a meeting with Severus today.”

“And how is Severus?”

He paused for a heartbeat, magnifying Meira’s anxiety. “I suppose that would be a matter of opinion. Dumbledore took a meeting with Sybill Trelawney.”

“Trelawney. She wouldn’t be related to Cassandra Trelawney, would she?”

“Her great-great grandmother.” Meira did not like where this conversation was going. “Dumbledore interviewed her for the position as Hogwarts new Divination professor. From what Severus said, she seemed to be lacking where her grandmother excelled. But…”

“But…?”

“As Dumbledore was leaving, she started making a prophecy. Severus was unable to hear it in its entirety because the old man quickly threw up a silencing charm.”

Meira swallowed against her suddenly dry throat. “And what didhe hear?”

Tom inhaled deeply. “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…’ That was all he could hear.”

Meira had grown rigid in his arms. She was panting heavily. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see. It felt like strong hands had wrapped around her throat. Somewhere in her mind, she knew that Tom was calling her name, but she could only hear Trelawney’s prophecy replaying itself in her mind. Why was this happening? Was it not enough that they had already lost Ciarán? Were the god’s really vengeful bastards conspiring to split her and Tom up as well? It wasn’t going to happen. She would kill them all. Trelawney, Dumbledore, she would kill anyonewho wanted to hurt him and she would have the merriest song in her heart while she did it.

A sharp stinging pain in her left cheek brought her back to her senses. She found her back pressed against the pool wall with Tom’s dark rubies gazing at her.

“Calm yourself, wife.”

“Calm? How the fuck do you expect me to be calm, Tom?” she screeched, thick tears falling from her eyes and blurring her vision. “That stupid hack prophesized your death and you want me to be calm?”

“Yes, I need you calm. As far as I can tell, the only couples that have thrice defied me are the blasted Potters and the Longbottoms. My sources say that both women are carrying sons that will be born in the same month,” he said, more to himself than to her.

“Whatever you are planning, please don’t do it.”

His smile was a bit strained. “Don’t tell me you of all people are starting to buy into this Divination nonsense.”

“We make our own destiny, Tom. I never stopped believing that, but Dumbledore is not stupid. He has to know that we have someone watching his every move. What if that meeting with Trelawney was a setup to trick you into doing something foolish? Something that I can already see that you have planned for the Potters and the Longbottoms.”

“The old man is not that crafty, Meira.”

“And once again you underestimate him.” Sadness and fear overwhelmed her again. “What if something happens to you? What am I supposed to do without you?”

The cold, strategic Dark Lord faded away as she sobbed against his shoulder. “You know nothing can happen to me. This child of the prophecy may have some power that I know not, but I do as well, and that power is you.” He cupped her chin so that she was looking directly into his eyes. “For as long as we live, there will be forces, both Dark and Light that seek to separate us. You know I will never allow that to happen.”

She felt herself relax gradually. “Because you love me?” she teased.

He narrowed his eyes, but he could not prevent his rueful smile. “Must you always ruin it by talking?”

He kissed her hard before she could respond. She felt the familiar stirring in her belly as he fell backwards, their bodies descending deeper and deeper underwater, drawing on each other’s magic to survive. It was understood that Trelawney’s prophecy would be put aside for now. Meira knew that it would change everything between them. She just hoped that if they had to die, she would have the honor of taking Albus Dumbledore with them.

“Is it always like that?” Hermione stopped by the Black Lake, stretching as the sweat dripped down her face.

What do you mean?

“Last night. When I let go and just followed my instincts, the power coursing through and around me was like nothing I have ever experienced.”

Oh, yes, the first time you let go can be pretty wild, ‘Mi. Combining sex with it as you did with Cedric only makes it that much stronger.

“You want to know something strange? I could feel you taking over, but you didn’t. It was like we, well…”

Merged?

“Yes, exactly. How is that possible, Meira?”

I truly wish I could answer that for you.

“What’s stopping you then?”

Oh, just a certain lemon drop sucking old fool. And before this wonderful discussion goes any further, I would imagine that Harry is going to have a rather difficult morning, what with everyone thinking he cheated with the Goblet of Fire, oh, and being the sole cause of the brawl in the Great Hall.

She was right. Hermione hurriedly jogged back to the castle and returned to her dorm to shower.

When she came out to collect her bag, dressed with her hair styled back in a braid, blue ribbon tied at the end, Lavender Brown met her. She sneered in a poor imitation of a Slytherin.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Hermione,” she said nastily.

Hermione ignored her as she checked over the contents of her bag. With everything going on with the Tournament, she hoped Moody wouldn’t decide to cancel the duels.

“You think you have everyone fooled, don’t you?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lavender.”

“What Malfoy said about you last night was true! And now you have gone and gotten Harry mixed up in your filthy lies. You did it, didn’t you? You found a way to get Harry’s name in that Goblet so that he would have to rely on you for help. Dirty whore!”

Witches and wizards have writhed under my wand for calling me a whore, ‘Mi. Little Miss Brown seems to have no problems saying it to you. What are you going to do about it?

The question was barely formed in her mind before Hermione whipped out her wand and slashed it violently. Lavender, caught off guard, was thrown back into the wall. Hermione stood over the unconscious girl, wand raised.

“What would be a good punishment for you, Lavender? Such a vain, vain, girl you are,” she whispered, observing the layers upon layers of makeup she wore. “I know!” she said, her eyes suddenly a disturbing gray. “Why don’t we do something about that beautiful hair of yours? You love Harry so much, maybe we should make you his little blond twin?”

She cast a successful Obliviate on the girl, levitated her back in her bed and permanently transfigured her hair into Harry’s exact haircut…with a prominent bald patch in the top of her head reminiscent to the rather husky man on the Muggle television show Seinfeld.

Well done, ‘Mi. A bit mild for my taste, but then again, we arein Hogwarts. Never know who’s watching.

She hurried to the Great Hall. Her little excursion with Lavender cost Hermione her chance to walk in at Harry’s side. When she made it, she was on the receiving end of many glares from the Gryffindors as well as the Slytherins. She assumed that she was sharing the blame with Harry for the fight as well.

She ignored their glares and searched the table for Harry. He was sitting at the far end with only Ginny and Neville sitting with him. Even the twins were sitting a good distance away from him.

She originally planned to let the deathly duo explore her body like a treasure map – they can kiss that goodbye now. “Good morning,” she said to Ginny and Neville, laying her hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Good morning, Hermione,” Ginny said smiling brightly as Neville waved shyly.

“Morning, ‘Mione,” Harry said with a strained smile.

She took a seat beside her friend and helped herself to a ham and cheese omelet, hash browns and toast. “Why aren’t you eating, Harry?”

“He and Ron got into a bit of a row last night,” Neville said nervously when Harry didn’t answer.

“Thank you, Neville,” he bit out, pushing around the eggs on his plate.

“What happened exactly?” she asked, ignoring Harry’s annoyed glare.

“The whole of Gryffindor and Slytherin have detention every night for three weeks with McGonagall and Snape because of the fight last night. I won’t go into how many points each house lost.”

“Of course we have detention. Never mind that it all started because of some stupid blond not fit to call himself a Slytherin,” Hermione said, glaring daggers at Draco Malfoy across the Hall who returned her stare with just as much venom. “What did Ron say, Harry?”

Seeing that she was not going to let it go, he dropped his fork and turned towards her. “He’s convinced that you and I found a way to get my name into the Goblet. He feels betrayed because we didn’t include him in on it. And now he doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Underneath his anger, Hermione could see the deep-set hurt that Harry failed miserably in masking. Ron was his friend first and he of all people should be on his side, telling everyone else to take their opinions and piss off. No, instead, he sat at the opposite end of the table, stuffing his face without a care in the world, no doubt encouraging the circulating hateful gossip.

As Hermione looked around the Hall, something caught her eye. “Guys, what the hell is everyone wearing?”

“Badges. Someone circulated them this morning. The professors can’t really do anything about them seeing as how they aren’t really hurting anyone,” Ginny explained. The pretty Weasley blanched under Hermione’s baleful glaze.

“Aren’t hurting anyone?” she hissed. “Hey, you!” she called to a frightened Gryffindor second year.

“Ye—yes?” the girl stuttered.

“Where did you get this badge, sweetie?” she asked, in barely controlled anger.

The girl’s blue eyes grew wide and filled with tears. “A boy in Hufflepuff. He said it was alright to wear them if you like Cedric Diggory.”

“And you think it’s alright to give House Loyalty the piss?”

“‘Mione.”

Meeting her friend’s worried gaze, it did not slip her notice that nearly everyone in the Hall was watching the exchange.

“I can take it off it you want,” the girl whispered.

“I think that would be best.”

The little girl took off the badge and hurried to her seat with the other Gryffindors. The badge read, ‘Support Cedric Diggory, the real Hogwarts champion!’ and then spun around to say, ‘Potter Stinks.’

“I’m sure Snape loves these things,” Ginny snorted disgustedly.

“Yeah, he will probably give the Slytherins extra points for wearing them,” Neville agreed.

A loud scream suddenly sounded outside of the Great Hall. The students were puzzled as Hermione sipped her pumpkin juice nonchalantly.

“What was that?” Harry said.

“It was a scream,” Neville shivered.

“It sounded like Lavender Brown,” Ginny said, watching Parvati Patil run from the Hall. “Well, whatever happened, I’m sure she deserved it.”

“Hermione, what are you writing?” Harry said, reading over her shoulder the parchment she was scribbling on furiously.

“Oh, a little of this and a little of that.” When she finished, she waved her wand and with a silent incantation, the parchment disappeared.

The new quartet gathered their belongings, fed up with the hostility in the Hall. “Um, ‘Mione, why does Cedric look as though he has a Dementor on his back?” Harry whispered.

“Well, I may have, in no uncertain terms warned him to control his Badgers for risk of losing his privileges of mounting your favorite Gryffindor.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Just what exactly did you two get up to last night?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

Just as they reached the double doors of the Great Hall, the students whispered dramatically at their almost exit, Hermione spun suddenly and flicked her wand at the seemingly innocent badge on the table. It immediately caught afire to the surprise of those sitting closest to it.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger!” Snape said casting a quick Aguamenti.

“Yeah, yeah, so what else is new?” she said, over her shoulder.

Harry snickered over the deep shade of red the professor’s normally pale face undertook. But neither Harry nor Hermione managed to catch the speculative gaze of Moody or the slightly smug smile from the headmaster.

Hermione, as well as the rest of the class was relieved to learn that Moody had not decided to cancel the duels.

“With the upcoming, Triwizard Tournament, it’s important now more than ever you lot learn to duel. And, seeing as how we are honored to have one of Hogwarts’ very own champions sitting here in this room,” he paused amidst the snorts and muttering from both the Slytherin and Gryffindor sides of the room. “No better time like the present to start learning.”

Hermione sat at the vacant desk beside Harry. Usually, it was occupied by Ron, but today he seemed interested in sitting with Seamus and Dean.

Moody locked, warded and silenced the door. “Can’t have the bloody powers that be nosin’ about, now can we?”

“I have a really bad feeling about this, Hermione,” Harry whispered in her ear.

“Oh, come on, Harry. Where is your sense of adventure?”

Harry noted the excited flush of his best friend’s face and the determination burning in her pretty brown eyes. Again, he was hit with the startling realization that it didn’t matter how many of his so-called friends and housemates abandoned him. As long as he had Hermione at his side, he could survive anything.

“Potter, stop gawking at Miss Granger and pay attention!” Moody barked, startling him.

Harry blushed and turned towards the front of the room, ignoring the nasty comments Ron and the Slytherins were making.

“I was told that for some of you this ain’t your first duel. That you all had one back in second year, huh? Well, whatever you did then or thought you might have wanted to do, get it out of your head now. You all aren’t children anymore and I refuse to watch you duel like children.” He limped up and down the length of the room as he talked, his prosthetic leg knocking and dragging loudly. “You never know whose lurking in the shadows, posing as your friend…what’s that the Muggles say? Waitin’ for you to turn your back just so they can put a knife in it!”

His strange eye whirled about wildly as he paced. “Professor?” Neville asked, shakily. “If you say we can’t trust our friends, then who can we trust?”

“No one, Mr. Longbottom! Trust no one! You ever heard the phrase two people could keep a secret if one of them is dead? Well, I’m going to teach you to defend yourself today so that one that’s dead don’t become you. I was going to pair you up to duel with the person you sit with, but in light of some of the tension I feel in here today, I’ve decided to do things a little bit differently. Anything goes in this battle, baring the use of the Unforgivables, and to some of our more gifted students,” both eyes quickly surveyed Hermione as she flushed under his silent praise. “No casting Fiendfyre either. First up, Crabbe and Longbottom.”

Both Hermione and Harry sucked in a nervous breath. Vincent Crabbe, Jr., was by no means the sharpest wand in the bunch, but he was a cocky, ignorant Pureblood, combine that with the sheer thug mentality of being one of Malfoy’s goons and it was a recipe for disaster.

Moody banished the desks while the Gryffindors and the Slytherins rallied around the duelers.

“It’s not very becoming of a Gryffindor to be afraid is it, guys?” Neville whispered.

“There’s nothing wrong with fear, Neville. Fear keeps us going. Just keep your eyes on him at all times, and don’t hesitate to fight a bit dirty if you have to,” Harry encouraged.

“Thanks, Harry.”

The class stepped back several paces as Moody threw up a shield so that no would accidentally get hit by a stray spell.

“Let’s be clear. This is the first duel of the semester. I don’t expect any of you to come out looking like champions,” Moody gruffly addressed the class. “This is just to give me a chance to see where you all are in terms of defenses. The duel is over when you take your opponents wand and/or render them incapable of competing further. Crabbe, Longbottom, turn and face each other. Good. Now bow.”

It was just like when the dueling club started in second year, Hermione mused.

“Begin.”

Crabbe wasted little time firing a Knockback Jinx, sending Neville into the other wall. Collective gasps and cheers rang out around the room as Hermione grasped Harry’s arm. Slowly Neville got to his feet, favoring his left shoulder. He raised his wand and cast the spell back at Crabbe who hit the opposite wall.

“Nice going, Neville!”

“Good shot, Nev!”

“Get up, Crabbe!”

“Are you going to lose to a stupid Gryffindor?”

Crabbe stood, shaking his head like he was dizzy. He raised his wand and cast a Jelly-Leg’s Jinx. Neville was barely able to cast a Langlock, followed by an Expelliarmus catching Crabbe’s wand in his hand.

Silence fell over the class for a second before the Gryffindors cheered and applauded Neville who was still staring at Crabbe’s wand in his hand mystified. Moody cancelled the shield and watched the Gryffindors rally around Longbottom, and the Slytherins glare disdainfully at the fallen Crabbe. He wasn’t exactly surprised Crabbe lost, but he had been expecting they would both knock each other out. Maybe next time.

“Congratulations, Longbottom. Have a seat and give that shoulder a rest. Goyle, you and Thomas get up here.”

The duel between Goyle and Dean lasted a little bit longer, but Goyle with a grudgingly impressive move of casting sand in Dean’s eyes, secured his victory. Moody kept a tally on the board of one each to both Gryffindor and Slytherin. Pansy Parkinson dueled against Parvati Patil. It was no shocker when Parvarti quickly transfigured Parkinson’s hair into snakes to distract and disarm her. Blaise Zabini and Seamus Finnigan’s duel lasted the longest. It seemed that Seamus was better at dueling than he was at blowing himself up, and that was saying a lot. Unfortunately, Seamus was disarmed when Zabini hit him with a Confundus. Moody was impressed, if not a little bored by what he was seeing. Aside from a fluke here and there, the Gryffindors and Slytherins of this age had no imaginations. It was time to shake things up.

“Weasley,” Moody said, noticing the good spirits of the Gryffindors. “Weasley…and Potter.”

Harry tensed beside Hermione. His eyes fell on his redheaded friend as the class grew silent. Ron looked like he might vomit. He was angry and felt betrayed, but did he really want to duel his best friend? One glance at Hermione whispering encouraging words to Harry and he had his answer – yes.

They bowed, although Ron looked a little reluctant to do so. As soon as Moody said begin, Ron fired an Expelliarmus at Harry, hoping to catch him off guard. He was disappointed.

“You just had to do it, didn’t you?” Ron snarled.

“What are you talking about?” Harry said, casting a Protego.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You knew all this time how I felt about her, but it didn’t make a difference – you’re Harry Potter!” he cast a Stupefy and another Expelliarmus in rapid succession. “You have to have everything!”

Hermione ignored the looks everyone was giving her. She could see that Harry was beginning to get upset.

“How can anyone know you even wanted Hermione with the way you have treated her since the moment you met her? Nearly every ounce of pain and heartache she felt has been at your hands, Ron!”

She held back her smile, silently touched that Harry was defending her so avidly against Ron. Yet she could scarcely believe that they were choosing now of all times and places to have it out.

“And Saint Potter is there as always to pick up the pieces, right?”

“There is nothing going on between us!”

“Bullshit!”

Harry narrowly avoided being hit by Ron’s bludgeoning hex. It was then when Hermione felt it. That unmistakable surge of power that rushed over body. It both frightened and excited her. The only time she felt such a rush of magic that came from someone else was when she experienced Meira’s memories about Tom. Now she felt it when Harry’s anger reached its peak. So what did that mean?

Hermione didn’t have the time to ponder it because Harry bellowed Expelliarmus. The impact was surprising to say the least. Not only did he take Ron’s wand, but he sent the boy flying across the room and knocking him unconscious.

When he came to, Harry stood over him. He wore a cold and unforgiving expression that Hermione found both unnerving and a little sexy.

“Did it ever occur to you that just maybe Hermione doesn’t want you, in any way?”

“But I love her,” he whispered pathetically as tears gathered in his eyes.

“I won’t say this again, Ron. Nothing is going on between Hermione and me. I did not put my name in the Goblet of Fire and neither did she. When you have managed to successfully pull your head from your ass, you are welcome to be my friend again. But until then, I would advise you to stay far, far away from me.”

Harry turned his back on Ron, leaving the task of helping stand to Seamus and Dean. “Well?” he said nervously.

“You were brilliant,” Hermione said, pulling him into her arms. “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“Me, too,” he squeezed her tightly, laying his head on her shoulder. “I don’t want to lose my brother, ‘Mione, but I’m not sure if we can recover from this.”

“You know how Ron is. Sometimes, he needs someone to knock him on his ass to show him that he’s doing wrong.”

“The winners will duel each other in the next meeting. For your homework, I want a foot and a half essay on why your spells did or didn’t work for you, and what you could have used instead. Now that the paperwork is out of the way, we have just enough time for one last duel. Malfoy and Miss Granger.”

“No!” Harry said, hugging her to him. “Professor, please –!”

“Save it for someone who cares, Potter. I am sure Miss Granger nor Mr. Malfoy require no special treatment.” He looked at them both smiling at their affirmative nods. “Good, get up here.”

Harry reluctantly released Hermione. She drew her wand and took her place across from Malfoy. Again, Moody drew up the protective shield as the others gathered around in avid anticipation.

“I will remind you both that under no circumstances are you to use an Unforgiveable or the Fiendfyre Curse. In doing so, the castor will face immediate disqualification and will serve a month’s worth of detentions with me in addition to the ones you have with your head of house. And you don’t want that.”

Throughout Moody’s speech, Malfoy and Hermione both remained silent. Their eyes were locked on the other’s.

I know you can see his hate, his loathing, his confusion and rabid lust for you, ‘Mi. Just imagine all of the things he would try to do to you if you were anywhere but here. You are everything that he hates. Everything that he longs to destroy and demean, yet nothing he has attempted to do to you has succeeded.

Hermione let the cold loathing of Meira’s words wash over her. She assumed something funny happened with her eyes again, because the younger Malfoy’s brows wrinkled slightly. Hermione quietly delved inside of Malfoy’s mind.

“…mudblood, bleed! Thinks she is better than me! I will show her, I will show them all!”

She ignored the sexually graphic depictions of being forced to submit to his will and blocked out everything around her. She let herself forget that she was Hermione Granger, Gryffindor, brightest witch of her age. She focused solely on Malfoy, and exactly how much she could get away with.

“Bow.”

Neither took their eyes off the other as they bowed. The tension was high and steadily mounting as Moody ordered them to begin.

“Ready to scream, Mudblood?” Draco sneered as he and Hermione circled one another.

“You know, Malfoy, when you continuously pander the same insult day in and day out, it makes me wonder if rumors of your intelligence were grossly exaggerated.”

“Well, don’t worry. I will be sure to end this quickly so that you can go back to spreading your legs for Potter.”

She laughed, casually flicking away his stunner. “Aww, is that jealousy I hear in your tone, Malfoy?”

“Jealous,” he scoffed. “Why should I be jealous of a mudblood slut shagging the ill-famed Boy-Who-Lived?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because even without his fame and the weight of his name, Harry will always be better than you.” The smile slid off her face and coldness filled her gaze. “He will never have a bastard of a father who is constantly ashamed of him, no matter what he does. He will never have to be such a coward as to insult and attack those he deems weaker than him because it makes him sick when he looks into the mirror, Malfoy,” she hissed.

His face contorted in both pain and rage and he cast a Reducto at the exact same time she fired a Confringo. The spells connected and the room shook as pieces of the wall behind them fell to the floor. She thought she might have heard Moody laugh giddily.

“Is that the best you can do, you filthy mudblood?” he yelled.

“Nope.”

She flicked her wand and thick mist filled the room. She stretched and cocked her head from side to side. Couldn’t hurt to have a little bit of fun before she silenced the prick. She cast a silent Germinio and watched as her body split into five other Hermione Grangers.

“Malfoy…,” the six of them intoned. “Come out and play…”

He banished the mist and his eyes stretched opened widely at the sight of the six Hermione Grangers circling him like a pack of wolves.

“What the hell?”

“What’s the matter, Malfoy? Cat got your tongue?” they laughed.

Desperately, Malfoy cast Reducto until only the real Hermione was left standing. “Nice show, mudblood, but why don’t you come from the sandbox and play with the men?”

“Why don’t you show me one?” she threw up a shield just as Malfoy cast a Tongue-Tying Curse. she returned it with a Babbling Curse that he only narrowly missed.

He threw a cutting hex at her, catching her left cheek. In her peripheral vision, she could see Harry casting furiously at Malfoy, subsequently causing the others to wrestle him to the ground as his curses were bouncing off the shield and rebounding at the rest of the class.

Blood dripped down her face as she smiled savagely. “Hey, Malfoy, did anyone tell you that you cast like a bitch?”

He glared and cast a Flagrante at her wand, causing her to drop it to her feet when it burned her fingers. They were at a standstill. She knew Malfoy would never summon her wand. No, he had something much worse in mind for her. Meira practically convulsed in anticipation as Hermione cast a wandless, wordless mirror shield.

Malfoy slowly turned his attention to Harry as he raised his wand to Hermione. “I didn’t promise your mudblood would be in one piece, Potter.” He turned back to Hermione, a predatory smirk on his face. “A taste of what’s to come, mudblood whore. Crucio!”

Hermione spread her arms wide to receive the curse. The perilous red light came hurdling towards her as Harry yelled her name. She locked eyes with Moody for a split second who seemed to be panting excitedly. She felt her shield engulf the curse and with a swift push of her arms, she shot it back towards Malfoy who stared in frozen disbelief.

Horrible screams filled the room as the curse impacted him. He dropped his wand to the floor and fell, twitching and shaking convulsively. Tears, snot, and sweat coated his face. The girls screamed and the boys yelled, desperate for Moody to intervene. Hermione tilted her head in innocent fascination as the boy scratched his face raw. His eyes rolled in the back of his head. His arms and legs had twisted in seemingly impossible angles. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

It was only when he lost control of his bowels did Moody step in and cancel the curse. Hermione looked over at Harry who refused to remove his gaze from hers. A red gleam quickly passed through his eyes and she felt her nipples harden and her panties grew just a little damp. The protective shield dropped and Hermione found herself engulfed in a pair of strong arms.

“I did okay then?” she whispered, returning his hug.

“You are the best, ‘Mione. Never forget that.” He pulled back, a bright smile on his face, oblivious to the fear, hate, and speculation in the room. “He hurt you. Bastard,” he said, carefully touching her cheek where Malfoy’s cutting hex caught her.

“It only stings a bit. You think it’s permanent?”

“No, but you would still be beautiful if it was.”

Moody cleared his throat loudly. “It goes without saying that Miss Granger has won the duel. I highly doubt she wouldn’t have even if Mr. Malfoy hadn’t so foolishly used the Cruciatus.” He looked over at the unconscious boy disdainfully. “You boys get your housemate to the infirmary. And Miss Granger, don’t worry about a thing.” He winked slyly, dismissing the class.

Even though Malfoy was the one who originally cast the Cruciatus Curse, the rest of the class still gave Hermione and Harry room as though they were afraid she might suddenly attack one of them. All except for one incredibly brave and stupid snake.

Pansy Parkinson, her face red and wet from crying, roughly bumped Hermione’s shoulder as she passed. “You will pay for this, mudblood.”

She beat a hasty retreat as Hermione restrained Harry from hexing the stupid chit. Harry walked Hermione to her Arithmancy class after she healed the cut that left an angry and tender red line on her face. She refused to go to the infirmary, and after what happened with Malfoy, Harry was inclined to agree with her.

Thirty minutes into Professor Vector’s enthralling lecture, a grave Professor McGonagall interrupted. “Excuse the interruption, professor, but I will need to borrow Miss Granger for the remainder of the period.”

Professor Vector was perplexed. McGonagall only pulled students from her own house out of class if they had committed a gravely erroneous act. She couldn’t see the bright Miss Granger committing wrongdoing of any kind.

“Of course, professor. Miss Granger, one of your classmates will catch you up on the notes.”

“Thank you, professor. Good day.”

Hermione followed McGonagall from the classroom, silently spelling her hair straight as she did so.

“I assume you know what this is about, Miss Granger,” the stern older witch said.

“Yes, professor. Is it very bad?”

“Hershey bar,” she said and waited for the two gargoyles that lead to the headmaster’s office to spring out of the way. “The worst, I am afraid.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Before the professor could knock, they heard the headmaster call out, “come in.”

Hermione and Meira both prepared themselves. When the door to the headmaster’s office opened, Hermione found herself agreeing with McGonagall. It truly was the absolute worst.
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His White Queen: A Prequel