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    Hello! This a Dramione in sixth year. I spent most of my night writing it so I hope you enjoy it! :D And to my Uncovering Truths fans (if you’re reading this) the next chapter is currently being written.

    Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. *sadface*


    Chapter One
    Dark

    It is the unknown we fear
    When we look upon death and darkness,
    Nothing more.
    —Albus Dumbledore, from the Half Blood Prince by J. K. Rowling on page 566



    H.


    The Platform nine and three quarters was bustling with students. Hermione was trying to make her way onto the train without looking at anyone. It was an uneasy task to walk by when she felt everyone was watching her.

    Did they know? Would they even care if they did? Would they hate her? Would they think she was dirty, worthless?
    She felt dirty and worthless.

    So accordingly, yes, they would, she reasoned. Nearly half the students already thought so from her bloodlines alone. No one would want to go near her now. She was a murderer. Her hands were stained with blood. Not literally of course, their blood had never touched her hands…

    The blood was on the floor. It was flowing its red river down the stairs, staining the pure white carpet her mother took such pride in keeping clean. It pooled on the landing, like a lake of cherry syrup.

    Hermione felt sick to her stomach. The scene down below was her doing. If only she hadn’t picked up her wand.


    Hermione shook the memory from her mind. She hadn’t meant to. It had been an accident. At their graves, their cold granite graves, she had told them again and again she was sorry as she cried for them. But sorry doesn’t reverse what happened.

    After she had opened her letter for the next year of Hogwarts, she hadn’t felt the euphoria that usually made it impossible to stop smiling until she got to the school. This time, she had considered not even using her magic ever again, and had almost thrown the Hogwarts letter in the trash bin. Guilt and indecision had kept her from doing so.

    But that plan was a fool-hardy one; her magic would cause more harm being unused and boxed-in inside of her. She would have to eventually use magic, and Hogwarts might serve as a distraction and safety net for her.

    Accidentally, not to have Seamus Finnegan, a fellow Gryffindor in her year, notice her, she turned around, and caught sight of a girl― probably a first year― hugging her parents goodbye. Her eyes fled from the sweet family scene quickly, but the image still burned in her mind. That would have been her parents and her today― hugging her parent’s goodbye for only a year, not eternity.

    Once on the train, Hermione found an empty compartment. She looked around before hastily locking it with a charm. She did not wish to face Harry and Ron just yet. She was scared of what they knew of her summer holiday and what they thought of her. While the uncertainty was unnerving, it was far better than having Ron tell her that they weren’t friends anymore. Harry, though more rational than her red headed friend, couldn’t possibly want to be there for her either, if he knew.

    She knew that they or any others wouldn’t be able to get in. Not, many people were good at breaking locking charms as strong as hers.
    But he had…

    A loud crash from above startled Hermione. She had been watching a horror film for the past half hour, and although she knew there was nothing that could hurt her in the muggle London suburbs with her being a witch, had still been nervous.
    What was that noise? She thought to herself, images of grotesque creatures or villainous killers like the ones in her movie flashed in her mind. Another loud clamor from the rooms upstairs only proved her paranoia true.

    Someone had broken into the Granger’s house. A tad bit frightened, Hermione flew up the flight of stairs.

    What she saw on the top of the stairs, she was not prepared for. Hermione for once was caught unbearablely off guard. There was a wolf. A wolf half-personified by the darkness in his soul. A werewolf, she realized, as she looked closer, seeing the beast for what it was.

    Only werewolves were once wizards or witches. They were never muggles—the werewolf venom was too potent for muggles to handle and change—meaning that the half wolf in her home knew exactly whom she was and had taken down her carefully placed guards surrounding her house and neighborhood to get her.

    No. Stop thinking! Stop remembering!
    She ordered herself. It was difficult; the memories of that night were always sneaking into her thoughts, a hidden torture for the only one in the audience― her.

    To distract herself, she let Crookshanks out of his cage. The cat leaped into her arms and nuzzled her neck. His purring vibrations of contentment tickled her chest; she wondered how he could stand being so close to her.

    Animals were supposed to have an intuition about danger. Couldn’t he tell she wasn’t the girl she was before the summer began? That she had been, in fact, dangerous?
    But if anything, the orange furry cat had become more affectionate towards her.

    The train started soon, and so the journey to Hogwarts had officially begun.

    :::
    Thirty minutes into the train ride, she was rapping her nails rapidly on the leather binding of her book. Hermione knew she should be at the Prefect’s meeting that was just starting. She was a sixth year, and had to stay longer because she had more responsibilities than last year. It was a mandatory meeting, even the Slytherins were known for coming early for them.

    A knock at her door startled her away from her thoughts, and she looked to see who it was.

    The aged man at the door was tall, but his stomach stretched out like a beach ball. A mustache vaguely reminding Hermione of a walrus hid his mouth. He smiled kindly at her after pulling a tassel away from his face.

    It’s a new professor.

    Hermione opened the door with a flick of her wand, and sat up straighter since she was meeting him for the first time and wanted to impress him.

    First impressions always matter, her mother had told her countless times.

    “Hello dear, what an impressive locking charm you have there. I couldn’t even counter it.” he said with a chuckle. “What’s you name dearie, what year?”

    “Oh, Hermione Granger sir, a sixth year. I’m sorry for locking you out professor, I-”

    “Nonsense, we’ve all broken rules every once in a while.” He winked before continuing, “Now, would you be interested in coming to my cabin, in say a few minutes, with some others for a snack.

    Knowing she shouldn’t say no to the new professor, Hermione answered meekly, with a tiny smile, “of course!” the smile felt odd, but cheerful.

    :::
    When Hermione entered the professor’s compartment, she was dazzled to say the least. Slughorn’s compartment was lavish with deep purple couches, bright maroon pillows with golden tassels for sitting in one corner. There was reading materials (mostly knitting magazines) placed on the mahogany side and coffee tables.
    In the center was a sweet trolley filled with both muggle and wizard confectionaries of many kinds. The bottom rack was occupied with nothing expect sugared pineapples. A sign on the top of it read: help yourself. The walls were bright, unlike the furniture- a merry shade of soft yellow.

    “Do you think it, dear? I decorated it myself. Sprout says I have no taste in interior design, but I find that the colors blend together quite splendidly. Don’t you?”

    ‘It’s lovely Professor. You’d think the colors would clash and make everything look off since they’re so different, yet they don’t.”

    “The wonders of complementary colors.” Professor Slughorn said with a slight chuckle. ‘Please sit,”

    She heard a snort and the words ‘ass-kissing Mudblood’ come from Zabini, a Slytherin in her year. Much to her displeasure, the only sit open, without appearing snotty, was next to the proud Slytherin.

    Either the new professor was ignorant to the young boy’s rude remark or not, the attention was taken off Hermione when Harry and Ginny entered the room.

    Both students gave her an odd look, but said nothing of it as they took a seat next to her.

    “Hermione, what are you doing?” Harry whispered to her, his green eyes overflowing with concern. They made Hermione feel even guiltier than she felt when she saw them enter the room.

    “Yeah, why didn’t you go to the meeting, Ron was lost when I left. He always needs you to help him understand what’s going on.” Ginny piped in.

    “Um, I’m getting over the flu, and was struck in the bathroom for most of the train ride.” She lied.

    “That’s rotten luck. It’s a good thing your feeling a little better though. McGonagall will most likely understand; you are her favorite student.”


    D.


    The Prefects meeting was dull. Draco could hardly keep himself from walking right out of it. There were far more important matters at hand than first years running around late, or finding students in the middle of ‘physical relations’ as McGonagall put it. Maybe he should have listened to Zabini and just skipped it. If he heard one more word about
    skipping patrols, he was sure to hex the old bat.

    Too bad not even the Mudblood was there, just so he could annoy her. Although it was just as much fun as taunt the Weasel when he realized Granger wasn’t there. The git had turned red and hadn’t changed back yet. The thought made him snicker.

    Draco unfortunately did have to admit that it was unlike Granger to skip, much less be tardy for anything school related. She was an insufferable teacher’s pet, always kissing up their arses, and just being a know-it-all. Two things that made her already undesirable before you learned she wasn’t a pure-blood.

    Draco was taken out of his thoughts when a paper was thrust in his hands. He looked over at Pansy and mouthed, what’s this?

    “Patrolling chart. Weren’t you paying attention?” Pansy asked, while giggling, as if his cluelessness was the funniest and cutest thing ever. He rolled his eyes, before reading over the parchment.

    The patrolling arrangement wasn’t that bad. He would be with Pansy mostly; apart from one day, so as long was she kept her mouth shut most of the time, things would be fine.

    “This is for the first half of the year. As you can tell, Slytherins and Ravenclaws patrol Sundays through Tuesday s, during Wednesdays all houses are patrolling with each prefect paired with someone from a different House, and Thursdays through Saturdays are for Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Any questions?” McGonagall explained.

    No one asked.

    “Meeting is dismissed. Mr. Weasley could you hand Ms. Ganger her patrol sheet to her, since she couldn’t make the meeting?”

    “If he has the brain power to do that.” Draco whispered to Pansy. She snorted like the pig she was.

    “Mr. Malfoy, if you think Mr. Weasley is mentally incapable to do this, I will gladly let you do it for him.” McGonagall replied, looking up from her papers, a faint smile on her wrinkled face.

    He just smirked, “Of course I’m capable to do it, Professor.”

    Of course, on the inside, he was furious. Why should he have to help the Mudblood because she didn’t come? What made her so special to have him help her?

    “Good,” she handed him the paper and walked off.

    Draco was on his way to leave as well, with Pansy practically chained to his side, when the lights began to flicker.

    “What the-” Draco started, as Pansy dragged him back to their compartment, unaware of this.


    H.

    Hermione was not enjoying herself. Zabini was making vile remarks to her under his breathe, to where even she could barely hear them. But she did, and that’s what mattered. They were mostly concerning her parents.

    “Too bad they won’t make it through the War, ay Granger?” she thought she had misheard him. Surely, she had.

    But she never got the chance to question him, because the moment she opened her mouth, lights went out, sending the students into darkness.

    The train shuddered, and Hermione grabbed on to Harry’s arm, seeking out protection as a child afraid of the dark might have. The lights turned back on, and then off. This time the train stopped completely throwing Hermione out of her chair and rolling in to a wall. Her arm was hurting from having smacked it on something, which had also caused her to drop her wand somewhere.

    “Harry?” she called out. “Ginny?”

    But she never heard there voices. Instead, she heard the sound of wheels rolling, and felt the impact before she heard it. And that’s when everything truly went black, as Hermione passed out.




    Oh no! Poor Hermione :( Please review guys! Tell me what you think. What you hate. What you love. What you want to see. I’ll love you forever. And if you don’t, I’ll probably still love you because you read it. So I guess that’s kind of an empty threat. :/
    jaz xoxo

    Update 08/08/2012

    Just changing up a few things, nothing major. Review please!!!

    love always,
    jaz xoxo

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