A/N: For length and other various purposes that my apparent one track mind cannot process, I have decided to split this chapter into two parts. I really did not want to destroy the story because of some demented problem as ridiculous as very long. This is what you get, trying to stick with me till the very end.
Thanks for reading!
Dove x

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Priori Incantatem

"Feel like telling me what happened?"

Finite Incantatem

"Uh, sure... but...what are you..." she stuttered, all the while looking down at her hands which were curled up in her lap. She was almost afraid to look into his eyes because of the obvious fury there. If there wasn't any anger and just a calm expression, she knew that staring into his eyes directly meant bursting the bubble of calmness surrounding him. It was the usual calm before the storm. Yet, she was sure that those unyielding blue eyes had become a storm of emotions at her lack of a coherent response. And looking into them meant losing her three-year long resolve beyond retrievable depths.

Right as always, her apparent silence ticked him off. "For Merlin's sake, Granger, spit it out! What is so bloody difficult?!" he growled. "Is it difficult to accept the fact that you left me without a damned note or a goodbye or at least a warning? Or the fact that the Brightest Witch Of Our Age-"

"Please, listen to me. I did not mean-" she said, trying to cut him off, but to no avail.

"Is speechless at her own pathetic decision of leaving me alone? What in the name of Salazar's baggiest pyjamas is so difficult?!" he spoke, effectively ignoring her try to interrupt him. Hermione looked at him wearily, shocked at his outburst. She had known it was coming, but seeing someone who was always so calm and collected burst like this with all the pent up frustration flowing out was still a surprise nonetheless.

While he took in deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself once again, Hermione started speaking quietly as tears welled up in her chocolate eyes. "Listen to me. I did not mean to upset you. I just wanted to see you happy-"

"Did not mean to upset me?! Whoever told you that seeing you leave would make me happy of all things must have been completely bonkers!" he said incredulously.

"I told you, no one said anything to me. I just did not want to be in the way of your friendships which obviously mean a lot to you and your relationship with Pansy. It was and had always been better without me and-"

"You're going absolute nuts, Hermione Granger. This isn't you. You are supposed to be smart, not bloody impulsive. My friendship with you was as meaningful to me as with the others. Where the hell did you get that idea-?" he said, cutting her off mid-sentence once again. Apparently, he had forgotten the fact that if there was one thing Hermione Granger despised as much as laziness, it was not being able to complete her sentence.

Hermione banged her palms on the chestnut wood table in frustration. "Will you listen to me or not?!" Knowing how she was when she was annoyed, he quickly nodded without a word and gestured for her to continue.

Hermione sighed irritatedly at his impatience and began reminiscing the happenings during their repeated Seventh Year at Hogwarts.

Priori Incantatem

The War ended with the defeat of the Dark Lord. Hogwarts and the entire Wizarding Community in Britain and elsewhere in the world were beginning to be restored slowly but surely. The victors of the devastation were helping to build a strong foundation for the battered community brick by brick with immense concentration and determination.

By the end of July, 1998, everything was almost as good as new. Almost. The scars the battle left were still prominent and caused pain all the time. Minerva McGonagall was made the Headmistress of the most glorious school of magic in the world. And she deemed it necessary to give a chance to the hiding students to come back and repeat their missed year at Hogwarts. If she was offering this chance, who was Hermione Granger to decline?

Hogwarts started filling up in the evening of September 1, 1998, this time with bright students who were ready for a new start, for their new lives. Of course, Hermione Granger was made Head Girl, what with her endless achievements and know-it-all tendencies. What took them all by surprise was the new Head Boy- Theodore Nott. Not so subtle whispers had broken out in the Great Hall about him being a Death-Eater's son, a supporter of the Dark and whatnot the moment the Headmistress had announced the pertubing news.

Everyone stared at woman standing on Dumbledore's usual podium with sheer disbelief, outrage and betrayal. Everyone except Hermione. Because she knew that her favourite Professor always did things for a reason. And because she believed in Dumbledore's theory of giving a second chance to everyone who deserves it and is willing to earn it. And the moment she saw Nott's slip-up and the pain and defeated expression his eyes held before going back to the expressionless facade, she knew that he deserved every ounce of it.

They were led to their Heads' dorms silently, their Herbology Professor telling them small snippets of their usual duties in between. Pomona Sprout was the new Deputy Headmistress and all the students, even the Slytherins thoughts that it was a good decision. The first night in their newest cream coloured common room with ruby red and emerald green couches and a blazing fireplace was silent and awkward. Hermione missed her old Gryffindor dorms, her bed pushed to one corner with three other girls sleeping in the same room. And to think that only two of the original four were alive now. The thought saddened her to no extent but she pushed it away in an attempt to stop the tears. This wasn't the time to break down. This was the time to get to know other people and and try to forgive and accept them as they came.

The first few days with Nott were quiet and surprisingly, not uncomfortable. No, she didn't love her new abode as yet, but she knew that she would, eventually. Hogwarts was her home and everything about it attracted her too much to resist. Except maybe the broom cupboards and the caretaker. She missed Harry and Ron dearly every time she passed the hallways and sat down at the Gryffindor table for supper in the Great Hall. They had always been there with her- laughing with her, crying with her, talking excitedly with her, getting Sorted with her, winning the house cup with her, scowling at the Slytherins with her, fighting with her, screaming with her, opening presents and mail with her, the list went on and on and on. Everything seemed to be peaceful and back on track with the others, and that is what kept her going.

Sometime during their second week back though, a piercing scream rang out from the Hufflepuff table during lunch. Neither of the teachers were at the Head table; apparently, they were having a staff meeting. Suspiciously enough, they had left Professor Trelawney behind. She had begun to come down to supper since the beginning of term, something which some found different and shrugged it off, while some stared at her loony form with suspicion. Some First Years were just downright afraid of her glazed over eyes as big as saucers and her constantly shaking hands. With her frizzy hair, she looked like a complete mess and honestly, the numerous gaudy and glittery shawls were doing nothing to help.

As usual, she wasn't paying attention and was lost in her dreamy state and thus could not hear the clearly audible scream. Hermione stood up quickly, after shooting the dreaming 'fraud' a disbelieving look before scurrying over to the Hufflepuff table. She reached a brown-haired boy with brilliant green eyes who was covering his ears with his palms as violent sobs wracked his shoulders and frequent tears flowed down his cheeks. The girls nearby were trying to console him to no avail. However, when they saw Hermione, they quickly parted to give her a place to sit, mostly out of admiration for the Boy-Who-Lived's best friend.

Hermione barely had time to inwardly roll her eyes at their star-struck expressions before the boy grabbed her hand and pulled it, much to her surprise. She did not have time to think as he wrapped his arms around her and began to sob more violently into the crook of her neck. She awkwardly, but not unkindly, patted his back with reassurance as his cries slowed down. The entire Great Hall was now watching them but for once, the spotlight didn't bother her as she continued to console the little boy as best as she could. Eventually, he stopped crying and only soft whimpers could be heard. She gave a sigh of relief on feeling his rhythmic heartbeat going back to normal and looked at Hannah Abbott questioningly. She understood and gently nodded before mouthing, "First Year," as she gestured to the boy in Hermione's arms.

Hermione was now running her hands through his unruly hair in order to calm him as he sniffled softly. He then slowly pulled back and gave her wan smile as he said, "Sorry," and began rubbing his bloodshot eyes. She nodded at him and when he had calmed down, gently asked, "What is your name, if I may ask?"

"Arnold Diggory," he replied with a small watery smile.

Hermione inwardly gasped at the familiar name. Maybe she knew the reason for his sorry state. She looked up at Hannah, who gave a distinct but stiff nod, confirming her suspicions. She was contemplating her next move when the boy said, apparently sensing her hesitation, "I am so sorry for pulling you like that and then crying all over your robes," with unmeasurable sincerity.

Hermione was about to say that it was completely fine when he said, interrupting her, "You must be wondering why I was screaming and...watering my eyes out like that." Hermione chuckled slightly at the cringing expression on his face. "It's just that... I just got to know that this was his seat. My cousin. You may have known him. You are Hermione Granger, after all, mum says that you know everything."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes as a few Slytherins slightly snickered behind their hands. The boy though was still looking at her expectantly, his brilliant green eyes shining expectantly. She replied softly, "No, I do not know everything." The boy's face fell. Before it could plunge into great sadness, she quickly amended, "But I did know your cousin brother. Cedric, right? He was a great student and friend. I didn't know him personally, but I know that he was an amazing human being, too."

Arnold smiled through his tear-stricken cheeks at Hermione and asked her to tell him more about him. She replied the best she could, relaying some stories from their Fourth Year, tactfully avoiding the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. She then added, "Oh, and I remember something! There were these little badges his friends made for him during the tournament. The 'Support Cedric Diggory' ones. Oh, yes. I have one in my trunk, maybe. One of the other Hufflepuffs gave it to me. I can give it to you, if you want?" Arnold smiled one of his most magnificent smiles at her words and hugged her once more. Then he blushed as he realized just what he had done.

He quickly nodded his yes, still grinning from ear to ear at the thought of having something supporting his cousin. His brother. The one he loved with all of his heart. He had been his babysitter most of the times and was also the one who spoiled him with sweets and toys. He was the one who had to listen to his mum complaining about him spoiling her son beyond normal boundaries while Arnold knew that inside, he was smiling cheekily. The brother who had taught him how to walk. The one who had bought him his first toy broomstick. And the one who had promised to never leave him. But the sad and unfair truth was that he did leave him. He broke his promise. At first, Arnold was never going to forgive him, but the world was too evil to not let him know that his brother wasn't at fault at all. It made him experience things that no eleven-year-old should think about, much less go through.

For the few minutes that the Hufflepuff boy and Granger had been talking, Theodore had been watching them intently. He was still weary of the fact that his father was in Azkaban, but he was convinced that he deserved the prison for all that he had done. He had come back to Hogwarts for redemption. For all that his father had done, and in turn had forced him to do too. On having his thoughts about Granger giving him another chance being interrupted by an ear-piercing scream from the Hufflepuff table, he had looked up quickly, trying to find the source. The scream had every emotion he had been feeling at the time- pain, anger, and immense hurt. On seeing a young boy scream like that, he was going to get up and go to him and find out the reason, but it seemed like once again, Hermione Granger had beaten him to it. He was trying to listen into their conversation and could hear 'Cedric Diggory' being repeated over and over again, until he caught the 'badges' part. Oh, he remembered that very well. After all, hadn't he been involved in the nasty plan to flash 'Potter Stinks' on the badges every once in a while? He had. And the way he cringed on reminiscing those stupid and pathetic things he had done as a vulnerable and arrogant teenager sent shivers down his spine. How he wished he had known what was in store for him for the next three years...

Hermione was going to get up after reassuring the boy that the other Hufflepuffs would make sure to tell him stories about his brother when a thought struck her. Him crying over the fact was understandable, but screaming? That was odd. So, she simply asked him, "Um, Arnold, if you don't mind, may I ask why you were screaming?" His now happy face frowned upon hearing the question. The frown quickly turned into an expression of immense fear and anticipation. He gulped before lowering his head and speaking very quietly, as if revealing the most embarrassing fact of his life. "I have these dreams on hearing his name every morning. They have grown into nightmares in the last three years. I see him smiling and laughing at my childish antics one moment, and then another moment, he is lying on the ground, drenched in blood and looking so pained. His blood. The views were very vague earlier, but today when someone said that this was his seat, I saw him getting hit by a flash of green light and some nasty words. Then a monster arose and started approaching him and marked a big, red 'X' on his chest. I just couldn't hold it in this time," he said, looking at his hands in his lap, as if he was ashamed of these visions he was having.

His voice had been cracking with every word and even though it was spoken in almost a whisper, they all could feel the hurt emanating from them. Hermione's eyes welled up with tears at his plight and she embraced him tightly. She muttered reassuring and calming words in his ears as she felt tears on her shoulder again. After a few minutes, his whimpers had died down and subsided to his normal breathing. She realized that he had fallen asleep. Smiling softly at the boy in her arms, she put his head on her shoulder and hugged him to her. She then looked up at Hannah, who smiled sadly at the sleeping boy too, and nodded once more. Hermione looked over at the Slytherin table, and spotted him only seconds later.

On seeing Granger look at him expectantly, he stood up and walked over to the Hufflepuff table, earning and effecftively ignoring glares from the students. He reached out and took the boy in his arms, helping Hermione get up from her seat. He took out his wand and conjured a stretcher non-verbally, and gently laid the boy on it. Hermione muttered something about taking him to Madam Pomfrey for a Calming Draught, and he nodded and walked out of the Great Hall, the stretcher in front of him and Hermione following him. She had nodded to Hannah, taking care of the worried and anxious look on her face on seeing Theodore Nott taking Arnold, and assured her silently that she would take care of him.

When they reached the Hospital Wing, the doors were open and Madam Pomfrey was tending to one of the patients on a bed pushed to the side. On hearing them enter, she approached them with a silent question. Hermione explained everything to her and she nodded along, eyeing the sleeping boy with sympathy. When Hermione mentioned the Calming Draught, a look of understanding crossed her wrinkled face before she Summoned the potion from her cabin and gave the small vial to Hermione. She quickly explained the instructions for the potion and left them to tend to someone who was whimpering about a broken leg. Hermione nodded to Theo and he began to push the stretcher the other way. Meanwhile, Hermione conjured up some parchment and quill and began noting down the instructions carefully to leave them for Arnold.

They walked back to the Great Hall as lunch was just getting over. Hermione spotted Hannah quickly and went up to her to explain the instructions to take Arnold to his dormitory and to give him the potion when he wakes up in the right dose. The other girl nodded along to the words of the Head Girl, all the while looking at her in awe. Probably wondering how someone could see and experience so much horror and pain and still be able to love. To have compassion like no other. To say that she belonged in Hufflepuff would be the best fitting thing right now. Often times, Theodore caught himself looking at her with the same expression. He wasn't a very big fan of her or something equally ridiculous, but yes, he did admire her. And dare he say it, wished so hard to be so brave and smart and cunning and compassionate at the same time. Just like her. It shocked him to no end- the way he had changed. He had gone from loathing her to seeing her in a completely different light, like she was a glowing halo in the midst of all surrounding darkness, for the love of Merlin's greatness. And the thing was, he felt no regrets. Maybe a lot about what he had to do for his sorry excuse of a father, but none at all about wanting to change and be the Light, not the gloomy and murky Dark.

That was the first night that both of them had sat in their common room at the same time, and neither got up and walked away when the other entered. They did their homework in silence, just the way Hermione liked it. She felt warm with the familiarity of it. Like everything was back on track. She didn't need to know that they had lost so many people in the bloody war who she would never be able to meet or talk to. Her opportunities to get to know them were snatched from her grasp. And she certainly didn't need to know that her best friends were somewhere, off to find those murderers and torturers that did this to her. To all of them. The only thing she needed to know was that her Transfiguration homework that was due next week was only halfway complete and she had run out of ink.

She made to get up to get her ink bottle from her room when she remembered that she had run out of her spare collection too. Seems like luck wasn't on her side today. She sat back down and stared at the empty bottle with an accusing expression, like it was its fault that she couldn't write anymore. Theodore saw her glaring at the innocent and empty ink bottle and smirked. She was just downright thick sometimes. He took out his wand and quietly cast a Refilling Charm on the bottle which would have broken into shards by now by the ferocity of her gaze. He pocketed it and waited for her to notice the bit of magic he had done.

Hermione was staring at the empty ink bottle in disbelief and accusation one second, and the other second, it was full again. And she had lost an object to target her glare at. She turned her head to look at the other occupant of the room, sitting in another corner of the vast room, a conjured desk in front of him. She was still staring at him like it was the first time she had noticed that he existed. And that broke his assumption that she was willing to forgive him. But being the Slytherin he was, he dared not admit it.

When he could feel her eyes practically boring holes in his bent skull, he slowly looked up at her and their gazes locked with each other. Both were stubborn and unwilling to look away. He slowly smirked and said the first thing that came to his mind, "Like what you see, Granger?"

And that did it. Her gaze wavered and she pursed her lips. She shook her head as if she had given up on him. Or in the realisation that seeing him strive for redemption was just a trance she was in. She looked away and continued scribbling on the parchment before her, her essay on transfiguring random objects into small animals exceeding its required eight-inch length. Just as was expected of her. He watched her brown curls reflecting the flames of the roaring fireplace as she was sitting quite close to it. He had just shrugged on seeing her proximity to the fire. Dismissed it as another asset of the always warm and welcoming Gryffindor common room. Not that he had ever been in there before. And Merlin knew that he never wanted to. But there was this all-too-familiar feeling in his chest as he watched her eyes scanning the parchment for mistakes. Remorse. Regret. Shame. A Slytherin should have never even known what it was like to experience those pathetic feelings. But he did. Because he was different.

He didn't know what it was, but it always felt like he needed to show his fullest to her. When she was around, he wanted to be better. Just so that she could see. He often deemed it as his wish to be accepted back where he was now an outcast, which could only be if she trusted him. Because she was the one and only freaking, bloody Brightest Witch Of Her Age, Muggleborn, overachiever extraordinaire. Something everybody wished to be. Except the Muggleborn part. But for all he knew, maybe some were there who wanted to be that too. He scoffed at the thought. Not that he was still into blood prejudice. No, it wasn't that. He just was weary of Muggles. He had known them all his life as undeserving, filthy creatures that were just as important to him as the dirt beneath his newly polished dragonskin boots. But last year, he had seen them. Tortured them even, as part of his Death-Eater training. Even watched them screaming and kicking as the life was drawn out of them by the numerous murderers that followed the greatest monster to mankind.

Yet, he knew that it wasn't that. It wasn't deep down; on the contrary, it was always revolving in his head. The moment his eyes landed on her during the day. The moment someone mentioned Potter or Weasley. The moment a Professor asked a question in class. And it was engulfing him. He knew that he didn't want to use her as a means to achieve his goal of redemption. He knew that he wanted them to be more than just strangers who never even looked each other's way. He knew that he wanted to have the courage to be her friend. The way Potter and Weasley were. Not the touchy-feely type. Eww, no. But the type who understood what the other wanted without having to get the words past their lips. The type who laughed and cried together. Who were always there for the other. Because she was all his oh-so-perfect life ever lacked. Light. She was the glowing sun. The glitter in the darkness of his world. She was Love. She was everything a cheerful child on Christmas Day would die for. She was extraordinary. Ethereal. Not in the romantic way. But in the way that strengthened your bond with her even as she ignored you for another day, walking past you with that head full of wild and riotous creatures she called hair. He chuckled quietly at the image.

She looked up from her work at the sound of sincere humor-induced laughter from the cold and guarded boy in another corner of the room. The voice echoed throughout the room in very slow spirals. If she hadn't been rolling her completed and dried homework, she hadn't have noticed it at all. She was sure that said boy didn't notice her looking at him again, for he laughed with closed eyes. Almost as if he were afraid of someone seeing him laughing rather than scowling and snarling and he wanted to keep them away by closing his eyes. Hermione knew that because that's what she used to think. That if you couldn't see something you fear, you could pretend that it wasn't even there in the first place. But she still knew it was. She winced when she realised that that was exactly the point. He was afraid. Just like the little boy he should have been. Sandy blonde hair, sea blue eyes, and his tall and lanky form. The War had deteriorated him even further. She remembered seeing him pushing his plate away and walking out of the Great Hall during dinner. As soon as the children started piling in, that is. He must be so hungry right now.

That is how she found herself wandering around their common room some fifteen minutes later, searching for the kitchen that McGonagall mentioned was there in that room. She eventually found it when she walked over to the cabinet to the far end of the room, and pushed it open after twisting the knob. It was a small and homey kitchen, unlike the ones where the House-elves worked. Now that was just massive. She was staring at the various cabinets inside the entrance to the kitchen, figuring out where she could start with making something filling but not too hearty. In her defense, she still was apprehensive of him. And she didn't want to give her heart to someone who would only break it in the end. The wounds were too fresh.

Theodore had shifted from his table to the green couch near the fire, for it was starting to get chilly even with the windows closed. His stomach was growling lowly, making him feel something churning inside it. He wanted to feed it, but neither was he good at matters of the kitchen, nor did he know where the kitchens were. The first fact was solely due to pureblood supremacy and their beliefs about bigotry. Spoilt brats, all of them. Supremacist gits.

He laid down on the soft green leather, but not before searching for the Head Girl's presence in the room. She wasn't there. And it was past curfew. He couldn't do anything about it now, could he? Anyways he had practice. They went without food for days during their last year. It wasn't because of the lack of food. It was because the gruesome scenes of the Carrows torturing Muggleborns and the younger years were enough to lose all appetite. And anyway they wouldn't just let them have a meal without some sick, twisted plan now, would they?

So he lay there, wallowing in self-pity, hungry and tired and alone. All bloody alone. He eventually fell into another dream as he tried to close his eyes to the rhythm of the blazing fire. It was still glowing, though the embers would become visible in no more than ten minutes. He watched as he got Sorted into Slytherin, happy and content beyond measure, and slid into a seat near the newest Prefect. He sneered at everybody sitting on other tables, something no eleven-year-old should even know how to do. But he was a fast learner. Special lessons from Nott Sr. His mother would often try to make him forget what the man taught him, but one day she was dead and then he was all alone. All bloody alone. And that's when he slowly slipped out of his own person and became increasingly like his father. He saw himself grow up and follow the red-eyed, cold-voiced monster and how they won the War. The Dark won. Ha, more like nightmare, actually.

While he was squirming on the couch under the effect of the nightmare, Hermione was still in the kitchen, examining the various cabinets for the ingredients she needed to make her mother's favourite pancake recipe. When she couldn't find them, she snapped her fingers in frustration and Kreacher appeared with his signature pop. She looked at him with surprise before she let out a sigh of recognition. Her mind screamed one name: Harry James Potter.

She looked at his bowed form and asked him, "Kreacher? How did you get here?" He looked up and replied curtly, "Master Harry put Kreacher up to it. He said Kreacher should appear whenever Miss Granger snapped her fingers. So, what can I do for you, Miss?" She looked at him with apprehension. His eyes were boring into her own, questioning her needs. She finally decided that she wouldn't be able to find the ingredients all on her own in the seemingly empty kitchen and told him to bring those up from the kitchens below. He nodded stiffly and Disapparated. She was still getting used to him addressing her as 'Miss Granger ' and not 'the Mudblood'. He refused to call her 'Hermione' despite Harry's many requests and they had finally given up. He was one stubborn elf.

She took out a pan from another cabinet below the stove and placed it on the flame. The ingredients appeared on the counter one by one before Kreacher appeared with another pop. She dismissed him with a polite and sincere thank-you and a goodnight. She began preparing the batter the Muggle way and put her wand on the counter for the time-being. Cooking often helped her unwind and doing things with her hands provided much-needed distractions. It was so much better than magic in some ways. Soothing and rejuvenating. And anyways she was weary of going to sleep. The usual nightmares often held her prisoner in her own sleep and honestly, she was in no mood for another torture session.

When the pancakes were ready, she squeezed some oranges on them along with some maple syrup. Never one for too much fancy decoration, she simply piled the six of them on a clean plate and walked out of the cabinet-cum-kitchen. On seeing Nott on the couch near the fire, she quietly walked over to him and put the plate on the centre table without making too much of noise. She then Summoned the pitcher of pumpkin juice from the kitchen wandlessly and placed it beside the pancakes. When she looked at him again, she saw him squirming from the pressure of whatever nightmare he was in and got worried. She went through that almost every other night. She contemplated waking him up but quickly decide against it when the thought that he might get more creeped out on seeing her there struck her. She got up from her kneeling position on the rug and went to the kitchen to collect her wand. He was on the verge of screaming when she came back and she couldn't hold it in anymore. She conjured up a glass jug and dropped it forcefully on the edge of the stone grate of the fireplace.

And oh, a special mention, aside from the story: AVPM is out of this world. Fight me on that.