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The Darkness and the Light Part 4
Disclaimer: Characters belong to the great J.K Rowling. The plot is mine and mine alone. There is no profit being made here, we’re just a bunch of fans having fun. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, you know. Archive: Please read previous postings/stories for the answer to this. Please read and review! Spoilers: Alice Cooper’s song, “Poison” and Evanescence’s “Haunted”. There is no profit being made from the songs, either. As with my other songfic, references to the song(s) may be subtle. Parts 1-3 of my story by the same title. Summary: It’s year six at Hogwarts. Hermione has been sneaking around with Draco in secret for a month, but now Harry and Ron have found out. A/N: Sorry chapter three was so short. Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! You guys are the best!!! Hours later, Ginny was the first to find Hermione in the shower, water still on although the heat had long since run out leaving Hermione so cold that she was shivering and beginning to turn blue around her mouth. “Hermione!” she exclaimed and went to find a towel to cover her friend. She returned momentarily, turned off the water and ran to her side. Hermione didn’t seem to take any notice of Ginny’s presence as she wrapped the warm fuzzy towel around her and took hold of Hermione’s shoulders in an effort to stand her up; Hermione resisted. “Hermione,” Ginny said worriedly, “we have to get you out of here and into some warm clothes. You’ll catch your death.” No answer or sign that Hermione had come to, she still looked as though she had seen a ghost. “Hermione, please, answer me.” Ginny shook her lightly and snapped her fingers in front of Hermione’s eyes. “He’s going to have them killed,” Hermione said finally. “I can never be around them again.” Ginny tried again to stand Hermione to her feet and this time she was successful. When she stood, she saw the bruises Hermione had on her legs and wrists; she gasped and looked at Hermione with great concern. “What happened to you?” Ginny asked, putting a comforting arm around Hermione’s shoulders and leading her out of the shower into their dorm room where she made Hermione sit on the foot of the bed while she found some clothes for her to wear. “I can’t tell you, Ginny...he has spies, he said so…he could be listening right now…they could…he’ll kill them and then he’ll kill me…” “Hermione, who will?” Ginny found a pair of Hermione’s grey sweatpants and a white sweatshirt and handed them to her. Hermione took them and freely dropped her towel, dressing in front of Ginny. (Neither girl thought anything of this since they were best friends.) Hermione glanced around the room then got up and looked in every nook and cranny, looking for a sign that she was being listened to. Then it dawned on her, what if he had placed a charm on the room? What if he had somehow managed to get ahold of Fred and George’s Extendable Ears? ”What are you doing?” Ginny asked wildly. She wished Hermione would speak up already. By this time, Hermione had made it to the doorway and was meticously checking the cracks in between the bricks that made it up. She finally turned to Ginny and mouthed silently, “I can’t talk,” she said as she disappeared out into the corridor. Hermione was becoming more than paranoid after her encounter with Draco. She had no idea that he would go to such lengths, no idea that he would spy on her. What did he care? It wasn’t like they had a real relationship-not by anyone’s standards. But, too, Hermione supposed, this was probably just Draco. Once he had steaked his claim in something, that was that. No “ifs” “ands” or “buts” about it. She had made her way downstairs and into the common room which was compltely empty except for a certain redhead that was sitting on the sofa looking into the fire; his elbows on his knees and his head bowed with his hands clenching sections of his hair. She was standing on the bottom step of the staircase and when she saw him, she froze. For all she knew, Draco had cronies hiding behind the long red satin curtains that were draped over the windows that overlooked Hogwarts grounds. Hermione stood in silence, watching him; ignorant of the fact that she was there. He looked troubled and she wanted so badly to go to him to talk to him; comfort him. She didn’t know what could be bothering him and she certainly wasn’t selfish enough to believe that he could be worried about her after he saw the bruises on her wrists. After a few moments, Ron took his hands from his hair and looked up into the fire, muttering something that she couldn’t quite make out. Hermione stood on tiptoe and craned her neck a bit in order to hear him and then she realized that he was talking to someone not totally in her line of vision. All she could make out was a few strands of mussed red hair. When the fire spoke back to Ron, Hermione still couldn’t hear what was being said but could tell by the tone of the voice that Ron was talking to his mother. She hadn’t come down here looking for Ron or anyone; she was on her way to The Great Hall to get dinner- she was starving. She wondered if she could make it past Ron unnoticed as she stepped down and began to creep behind him towards the door. Then, something gave her away: a deafining squeak from the old wooden floorboards that decorated the common room. Ron stood abruptly and looked to her and then at the fire from which Mrs. Weasly’s head suddenly disappeared. He gave a slight frown at it and turned his attention to Hermione again. “Hermione!” She nodded in his general direction and began to walk on, trying not to be rude but trying not to really speak to him, either. Ron walked away from the couch so that he was now blocking her path to the door; the fire was back to normal and illuminating a few random sections of the common room. “Hermione,” he said, “what’s wrong?” She stopped in her tracks, a few feet away from him, she didn’t dare look at him or properly acknowledge his presence; she was too scared at the thought of Malfoy and his sidekicks. She tried to keep on walking but was met halfway in her path when Ron walked up to her, causing her to bump headfirst into his chest. He caught her by the shoulders and now held her out at arms length. Hermione still would not look at Ron’s face but she looked at his hands and mentally reprimanded herself for loving how comforting his touch felt. Stop this, she told herself. You’re an idiot. “Hermione, I’m talking to you!” She took one last look at his hands and allowed herself again to love the feeling of his touch, very briefly, before looking at her feet. “Hermione!” Ron said loudly, she could hear irritation in his voice and she didn’t blame him; but she didn’t know what else to do. She thought she was keeping the both of them from harms way. “Why won’t you talk to me?” he pushed on. “Was it something I said? Something I did? What?” Ron shook her, desperate to get her attention. “Godammit, Hermione!” Hermione still said nothing and looked at the floor, she could feel Ron’s glare burning into her. After a moment, he took his hands away and clenched his hair again. “You know,” he began taking short paces in front of her, “this is insane.” The light from the fire cast on him and Hermione could see the shadows of his hands dancing across her feet. Ron was sometimes rather animated when he was frustrated. “What is he doing to you, Hermione? I mean, he’s…he’s taken this hold on you and it’s pulling you down…your attitude and personality have been nothing above lousy for the last month, me and Harry find out why only to find out that he’s abusing you and you seem to enjoy it because you keep letting him do it…” Hermione couldn’t keep silent any longer. Yelling at her was one thing, but hearing Ron get on a tangent about Draco hurting her was too much, she decided that here would be where she would take her chances. “He isn’t abusing me, Ron!” she spat. He stopped directiy in front of her and looked at her as though he was honetly amazed that she had spoken. “No?” he grabbed the sleeve of her shirt and yanked it to her elbow, exposing the bruises. “Then explain these to me, Hermione!” His ears were growing red as he looked expectantly back at her, wanting an answer.

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