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A Rousing Start
In here, her hearing was much sharper - she heard the skittering of beetles on the floor and walls around her, and the faint whisper of something - a voice?
She crossed the room to her vanity, retrieving from it the only thing of value there amongst the discarded elastic bands and hairbrush - her timeturner. "It appears as though this one has chosen you, Ms Granger," McGonagall had explained. "But keep in mind that the rules and warnings still apply, and that every artifact has a history."
With a strangled gasp, the journal slipped from her hands and fell to the floor. Hermione was way too shocked to touch the thing again, let alone look at it now. What if this had all been some kind of trap?
A beam of red light split through the night and hit the woman square in the back, causing her to drop the dagger and fall forward. Hermione looked over her shoulder just as a raven haired woman came rushing out of the darkness, her wand held aloft in one hand, and the other holding up her dress as she approached the man.
What You See is What You Get
"And how, my dear Chione, did you learn to do magic?" Rowena asked. Chione looked down at her hands. My sister made me swear not to tell anyone, She told herself, fidgeting with a hand-woven bracelet on her wrist. It looked very old, and very fragile, probably more so than Rowena.
The Time Turner
"Hermione, your shirt!" She hissed, pointing at it. Hermione looked down, and found that there was a light shining through it. When she pulled the time turner out from beneath it, the light grew brighter. She looked up at Chione, and the lights from their time turners began to fade. Hermione glanced at Ginny. She looked incredulous.
"You can stay," she said quietly, "if you'd like." Hermione retracted her hand, chewing on her bottom lip. Why had she said that? She was supposed to hate him, not offer him a place by her bedside. He'd probably come to poison her or something. He cares for you, Chione told her. I can see that. Why can't you?
The Bloody Lotus
Something inside of her wondered how he knew about her going into the memory, but she decided not to voice it. She was puzzled enough about the fact that she had gone into a memory that wasn't Chione's in the first place. How had that happened?
"You saw her, you heard what she had said about feeling like she was forgetting something important. She didn't even remember who the Head Boy was, and she had probably been at the meeting herself! That is exactly why we went in there, Ginny. We needed proof that Draco wasn't to be trusted, and we've got it. Isn't that what you'd wanted all along?"
Sending a Message
"Save it, alright?" He said, half-turning and holding up a hand to stop her. "I don't want to know what you have to say right now. I thought you knew how much I had given up by deciding not to murder Dumbledore last Spring," Draco looked away. "I thought you knew how much I'd changed,"
"Yeah, it's just..." he trailed off, his eyes flickering about the corridor, "have you ever gotten the feeling that you're being... ya know, watched?" His eyes widened. "I mean, like somebody's really payin' attention? Especially now, what with all the craziness that's been going on," Ernie glanced pointedly in Hermione's direction, at the very moment she decided to start paying attention.
There, there, Hermione, said Chione in mock sympathy, Ginny’s just angry because she knows you’re right. Hermione shut her eyes tight, trying to ignore the smirk in her voice as it rang out in her ears and bounced round in her mind. She was wrong. Maybe… Ginny had been right. Maybe she was going a bit overboard – maybe she was paranoid. But she still had to know… She let her eyes fall on Colin again. What was he so afraid of?
“Since when d’you care so much about me?” Hermione chuckled softly, biting her lip tentatively, her eyes still shut. Something about him just didn’t sit right with her, and she had a good feeling that it was the same feeling that had kept her suspicious of him since her first day at Hogwarts, six years ago.
Actions Speak Louder
“What are you on about now, Ginny?” Hermione demanded, making a face as she shook her head and went over to the bed, sitting down. “I’m not hiding anything from you.” Ginny frowned, hovering a few feet away. “Well it certainly wouldn’t be the first time if you were,” she murmured, eyeing her friend. Hermione pretended not to have heard Ginny’s harsh words, rubbing her arms absently as she stared morosely at the floor.
Whatever the case, he still deserved to be found. Even if the whole wizarding world was against him for a murder he hadn’t committed, he was still a human being like the rest of them and she wasn’t just going to sit by and watch as no one did anything to help him. What if he’d been tortured? What if he was already dead?
Decanting the Past
“‘The silvery, hair-like substance pictured above,” Hermione read to herself in a murmur the caption beneath the picture, “a memory, can be reviewed in a Pensieve by drawing it from the temple with one’s wand and depositing it into the basin…’” She frowned slightly, her brows furrowing as she read the sentence twice more, but she had not read it wrong the first time. “It’s a… memory?”
Even though she knew that they were two separate entities, she imagined the warmth of his body heat on her skin, and she swore that when he ran a hand through his platinum blonde hair and exhaled deeply, she could feel his breath on her cheeks.
Draco stopped at the wall and rested his forehead against it before exhaling, images of that bushy haired Granger clouding his vision. Of all the girls he’d been associated with back at Hogwarts, this was the first (and only) one that he had been able to think of? Why not Daphne, or Astoria, or even Pansy?
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