Hermione

"Where are we?" Harry asks, looking around the forest in awe. 

"Forest of Dean," I say quietly. "I came camping here once. With my mum and dad."

Harry shoots me a sympathetic look, and waves my wand, setting up the tent. We settle down inside, and he starts to make some tea. I let him do the work, my thoughts drifting to my parents. 

"Ron had no right to run away," I spit savagely. "He thinks he's the only one that's worried about his family? At least his parents remember who he is!"

But Harry doesn't seem to be listening to me; he's flipping through The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, and his eyes are filled with a sorrowful, yet livid look. 

The afternoon lapses into night, and I take the midnight shift, waiting for Harry to get up from the tent entrance. 

"Hermione!" he gasps, so suddenly that I jump. "Look, look at that!" 

I shift my attention to where Harry is pointing, letting out an almost identical gasp. A few yards away from the tent lies a tiny, glowing red rose. We rush to it, and Harry picks it up. 

"Blimey, Hermione this is . . ."

"Very suspicious," I say, frowning. 

I take my wand from Harry's pocket, muttering a few anti-jinxes and spells, tapping the rose.

"It seems alright," I concede after a few minutes. "It's not trying to track us or anything."

But Harry isn't listening to me, he's looking at the rose in an almost painful hope. 

"Hermione, do you think this could be from Ginny?" he asks, holding the rose as if afraid to break it. 

"I don't think so," I say, taking the rose from him. "She doesn't know where we are, Harry."

I run my fingers down rose, the soft petals tickling my fingertips. "There's no thorns on it. It's been magically modified Harry."

"Look, there's a note!" he says in excitement, picking up a very wet piece of parchment from the icy snow. 

Merry Christmas. I'm forever thinking of you . . .

"Do you think it could be from Ron?" I dare to ask, hoping it's true. 

"No," says Harry, rolling his eyes. "This is obviously for you though."

"What do you mean?" I ask, hurrying after Harry, back to the tent. "How are you sure it's not Ron?"

"I just know," Harry says, looking very disheartened. "It's not from Ginny either."

"Harry!" I realize suddenly, shaking his shoulder in delight. "I recognize this handwriting! It's the same as that small diary you have!"

Harry looks angry, and a little scared. "You had no right to touch that!"

"I didn't read whatever you wrote," I defend. "You said it gave advice, and I needed some!"

"Well, don't touch it," Harry grumbles. "The first thing I'll do is burn that damn diary."

"Who could have sent this?" I ask.

"A git, obviously," Harry says, irritated. "It probably wasn't meant for us Hermione."

"I'm keeping it," I say stubbornly. 

"Fine," Harry sighs. "But we have more important things to be thinking about. Like where to find that damn sword."

"Don't worry Harry," I reassure. "We'll find it."

We'll find it, I repeat to myself, keeping a firm grip on the rose. 

Draco

You arse. Why the hell did you send that damn rose?

I wanted to, okay? It was the least I could do.

The least you could do to cause more trouble, yeah. She's obsessed, she keeps on asking "I wonder who could have sent it?"

Don't come in between me and my girlfriend, Potter. Leave it. 

Except she's not your girlfriend. I'm pretty sure she's with Ron now. 

A hot rage surges through me, even though I know that it's not Granger's fault. 

That's because she doesn't remember me. 

So stop meddling. I'm throwing away this damn book, quit bothering us.

I panic slightly, because this is the only direct contact I have to Granger. But I will not beg for Potter to not throw it away, so I chuck my quill angrily into a skull on the common room wall. 

"Oi!" a voice roars, making me start.  

It's Amycus Carrow, and he's glaring down at me in rage. 

"What?" I snap. "Keep your voice down, people are sleeping."

"I'm a Professor!" he says indignantly. "You will show me respect!"

"Do you want me to tell my father or Aunt Bella how you're treating me?" I ask coldly.

"Your Aunt Bella is the one calling you actually," he sneers. "Come to Severus's office with me. Now."

"Why?" I ask in alarm, but stand up and follow him out of the common room anyways. "Is she there? In Snape's office?"

"You have no respect, do you?" he spits. "We are Professors!"

I don't answer, and when we reach the Headmaster's place, he closes the door firmly behind us. 

Snape stands, looking very gaunt, by his desk. Near him, Alecto glares at me, and Amycus leaves my side to go stand by his sister. Aunt Bella is lurking in a corner, and she seems to be playing with Lacewings. 

"Draco," she says, in a cool, authoritative voice. "I have called you here to discuss two matters."

"If this is about why I didn't come home for Christmas break, I already told mum that I wanted to stay here at Hogwarts-"

"It's not about that," she sneers. "But we all are dissapointed Draco. How would you prefer to stay at this nasty school, when you can come home to the Manor where-"

"Is there a reason you called me here?" I interrupt, not wanting to go down this path again. 

She glares at me, and then reaches a hand back into the dark corner of Snape's office. She drags a tiny, gnarled up man with her into the flickering candle light. 

"Do you recognize him?" she asks me. 

"Is that Selwyn?" Alecto asks, confused. 

"Correct. A senior Death Eater of The Dark Lord," Snape says, his voice louder than Alecto's.

"Aunt Bella, can you just get to the point?" I ask, frustrated. 

"Very well," she says. "Selwyn here, has a very interesting story to tell. Why don't you say it again, Selwyn? The others can listen too."

Selwyn shoots me a scathing look, and begins to speak. His voice is cracked with age, and I can tell that he quivers with the effort of talking for so long. 

"It was last year, around the same time as now, just after Christmas. I had stopped at the Three Broomsticks for a round of drinks with my friends-"

"Do you want to sit down?" I cut abrubtly. "I can't really understand what you're saying, maybe you'll find it easier if you sit down."

The room looks at me in surprise. 

"What?" I defend. "I can't understand what he's saying!"

"Fine," Aunt Bella barks. "Alecto, get a goddamn chair . . . Okay Selwyn, now talk. Draco, do not interrupt him."

"Anyways. I was at The Three Broomsticks with a couple friends, and I saw him," Selwyn says, pointing a finger at me. 

"It was late night, mind you. He was there with the mudblood. The Granger girl."

A chill runs through me. So someone did see us that night. 

"He sneered at me, but I don't think Draco knew who I was. I followed them through Hogesmade, and I was shocked at what I saw-"

Selwyn breaks off, coughing violently. 

"I was shocked at what I saw, because Draco snogged the filth. Right against the brick wall, in plain sight."

A bead of sweat rolls down my temple. I don't see a way to escape, or lie my way out of this situation. 

"I see," Aunt Bella says triumphantly. "And did Draco kiss that mudblood, or did that filth snog him?"

"Draco did it," Selwyn says promptly. "Pressed her against the wall and made the move."

I glare at Selwyn, wishing for nothing more than to beat the shit out of him. 

"Are you sure it was Draco you saw that night?" Snape asks. 

"Of course it was Draco!" Aunt Bella spits. "Draco, what say you?"

"I don't know . . ." my voice comes out as a nervous whisper.

"So what this man says is true?" Amycus asks in outrage. "You were with a nasty mudblood?"

"No," I say loudly, my voice getting stronger. "I would never touch filth like her. I'm insulted you'd think I would-"

"Ah," Aunt Bella says. "I thought we'd come here. Unfortunately, we have another piece of evidence."

"Yeah, and what's that?" I ask, rather aggressively. 

"This," she hisses, slamming something down on Snape's desk. "This says everything."

I look down in horror. It's a picture of Granger and I in the library. A young boy with brown hair is grinning with his friends in the front of it, but in the back, Granger and I are visible. Only a fool would argue that we weren't together; even though we aren't kissing, my hand is buried deep in her hair, and her lips are at my throat. We both sport identical grins. 

"Remember the other mudblood Denis Creevey?" Aunt Bella sneers. "He was taking a picture in the library last year. This photo just happened to fall out of his bag a few days ago."

"So," Aunt Bella says, taking out her wand. "What should we do now, Draco?"

"None of this would be possible. I was just using her to get information to fix the cabinet. Im surprised you didn't think of it first," I drawl coldly. 

Aunt Bella glares at me. I can see that she believes me, but the fire in her eyes doesn't fade away. 

"Very well," Aunt Bella whispers. "But you still need to be taught a lesson. It seems you have forgotten that our blood is too pure to be associated with filth like that."

Her eyes hold an angry fire, and she whips her wand out, pointing it at me. She yells a curse, and I barely register the blood that spurts out of my chest before everything goes dark. 

Only one word runs through my head as I fall to the ground. 

Hermione.