Arbitrary Alignment

A/N: For all of those who thought I had abandoned this story... well I didn't. Finals came and I went completely M.I.A hiding away in a corner of my room buried under text books. For those of you who also juggle both job and school you can sympathies with me. So here it is... chapter 7 which turned out being longer than I anticipated so I had to split the chapters into two parts. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Yes!!! I own it all... me... I do...its all mine... my preecciouuuusssss!!!


----Assurance Part 1----


Hermione waited for Malfoy in the hallway, hair heavy and dripping on her back.

Her mind reeling, a jumble of thoughts tangling with each other, fighting for dominance in her skull. She felt the beginnings of a migraine root itself at her temples. Rolling her shoulders up and back, she shifted on her heels, fingers loosely grasping the slim wood in her right hand.

He emerged looking pristine and spotless and composed.

As if the water had not only washed away the dirt on his skin but also the uncertainty and volatile emotions lurking beneath that perfect polished veneer.

She liked him better when he was dirty and rumpled, disjointed. She had felt more at ease. Now he looked every inch the aristocrat without a single hair out of place and she felt drab. She subdued the urge to smooth down her unruly hair and lifted her head higher reminding herself that she had the wand, she held all of the control.

His eyes drifted to that very wand before planting themselves somewhere over her shoulder. He followed her meekly and silently back to his room on the third floor. By the time they had reach the top of the stairs he was struggling for each breath, a glazed pained expression once more over his pointed features. Dragging his body past her and towards the cot, he climbed exhaustedly under the blanket.

She left him fitfully sleeping, and went down into the siting room adjacent to the foyer. Folding her body into a leather armchair, she drew a heavy tome onto her lap. But she couldn't focus on the words marching in front of her eyes, her mind was drawn to the boy sleeping directly above her.

She couldn't make him out.

The cruel, small minded snide bully of her youth had been replaced with a different Malfoy. A Malfoy she no longer recognized.

The Malfoy of her past had continuously, repeatedly expressed his repugnance of her personage. How much she repulsed him; his cruel, unwavering disdain, his unfathomable disgust of her outward appearance and the blood that flowed through her veins. And yet what she had seen earlier had proven that he had clearly, physically wanted her, desired her. It wasn't in anyway logical.

She didn't know how much time had past as she sat there pondering the enigma that was Malfoy. She was startled from her thoughts as the front door slammed closed.

“Mione?”

“She might be upstairs.”

Harry and Ron! She bolted out of the chair, book falling heedlessly to the floor. She was through the door out to the hall and into their arms in a heartbeat.

She had missed them acutely. Now they were here in front of her, safe and whole. She stood, encircled in their arms, breathing them in, listening to their heartbeats. Thud thud thud

“Think she missed us much mate”

Her cheek, pressed into the expanse of his chest, vibrated with the rumble of Ron's laughter.

She had to swallow back the sudden thick emotion that had risen in her throat before she could trust herself to speak.

“Only a little. How was your search... did you find it?”

“Naw... it was a dead end”.

“Oh” acute disappointment “I was so sure, all my researched led... pointed in that direction for the next horecrux”.

“Don't worry Mione we'll find it. We half to. Is the ferret giving you any trouble?”

“He's been mostly comatose except for today. Its strange”... she paused, pressing her hip against the countertop.

They had made their way into the kitchen and were now sipping hot cocoa in large brightly colored terra cotta mugs “...he's not the same as before when we were at school.”

Ron scoffed at her over his steaming mug, “You mean he's a full-blown Deatheater now instead of a wannabe bully.”

Hermione shook her head, leaning against the counter. “Its something else, I don't know what it is and I'm not so certain he does, and the way he was looking at me earlier...”

Ron shot up out of his chair, slamming his mug down on the tile between them “How did he look at you? I'll tear him apart... the bastard”.

The liquid chocolate from his cup had overflowed, trickling down the sides into a steaming puddle to creep into the crack and spread slowly along the counter. Her eyes followed it trail as she unconsciously steeled herself for Ron's erratic volatile rage.

“God dammit! I told Moody it wouldn't be safe to leave him here with you all alone”. His closed fist slammed down. Once. Twice. Again.

Harry's hand grasped his shoulder, halting the motion of his clenched hand.

“Ron...don't”

He seemed to deflate, glancing sheepishly at Harry.

Who sighed.

One of those long seemingly endless exhales, which spoke volumes of equal exhaustion and exasperation.

“You must be so tired...,” they looked ready to drop off their feet Hermione thought, “...lets go up to your rooms, I'll put on new sheets”.

“No...Mione...” Harry glanced at Ron, a look that said volumes, “were... we can't stay long .”

They were leaving her. Again. In the end it seemed everyone left her.

“Lupin wanted us to give this to you”, Ron reached into pocket and pulled out a vial filled with black congealed liquid, “Its a sedative of sorts, to give to Malfoy”.

She was confused but reached out to take the potion. “To sedate him? Is that entirely necessary?

“Lupin thinks the ferret might get twitchy”.

“What Ron means”, said Harry starring pointedly at Ron “is that Lupin is concerned that he might become... agitated... violent even as the full moon approaches”.

“But, Lupin said himself that the probability of him becoming a werewolf is low”

“Its just a precaution Mione” Harry folded her hand closed around the vial. His hands felt cold, devoid of life. “Promise us you'll use it”.

“Yes yes...But I can take Malfoy werewolf or not” she grumbled.

They smiled at her, downing the rest of the chocolate and rising simultaneous from the stools.

“Your not leaving already”, she looked at the clock over the sink, “It hasn't even been an hour”. The happiness that had risen to fill her perpetual ache began to shrink and grow cold within her chest.

They wouldn't look at her, pulling on their cloaks and holstering their wands.

“When will you be back?”

Harry turned, glasses askew, to hug her again. “We'll be back” he promised.

She didn't bother asking where they were off to, she knew they couldn't tell her.

“Take care of yourselves”she straightened his glasses before turning to Ron,“Take care of each other” come back to me.

Then Ron was hugging her so tightly she couldn't breath.

Pulling back he smiled down at her “Mum was asking about you, she worries about you all alone in this house. She wants you to visit soon”.

She nodded and tried to smile back at them but was afraid it was a wavering mockery of a genuine smile.

Then they were through the hall and gone, the door shutting and echoing back to the kitchen where she still stood.

She sank down onto Ron's stool, the seat holding remnants of his warmth, plopping her elbows onto the counter and into the cooling puddling brown liquid. Their empty mugs seemed to mock her. She was alone again.

Ron's words echoed in her head “Mum was asking about you, she wants you to visit soon”.

But she couldn't visit the Weaslys, she feared she would never be able to bring herself to see the flame haired family together.

After her parents brutal murder something had changed between her and Ron. She still cared for him, she had always loved him but now she was also jealous, jealous of the family he still had.

The jealousy was rapidly shifting into resentment... bitter resentment that she knew she was wrong to feel but couldn't seem to help feeling. Resentment that he still had his family, alive and whole while she had nothing.

The only thing more painful than being alone in her grief would be to be clasped to Molly's ample bosom held like a daughter, knowing full well that her own mother would never hold her again. It would destroy her to see the clan of happy Weaslys together at the snug and cozy burrow filled and surrounded with belongings that screamed family. A family she no longer had.

She supposed she shared that commonality with Harry. Harry who had been deprived both his parents shortly after his birth and most recently had lost his beloved god-parent Sirus to Voldemort's tyranny.

They were alike, her and Harry, both orphans.

Rousing herself from her brief bout of self-pity, Hermione got up, placing the empty mugs in the sink.

She was suddenly so very tired.

Her eyelids felt extremely heavy and refused to stay opened. She stumbled up the stairs and into her room as exhaustion seemed to catch up to her all at once. Not bothering to change her clothes she simply kicked off her shoes and fell onto the bed, mustering enough energy to drag the comforter over her head.

Her elbows still damp, she fell asleep to the smell of chocolate.




I don't really like the conversation bits, I guess I haven't gotten the hang of that yet.

As always I will be beyond ecstatic if you REIVIEW... I have a cookie with your name on it if you do :D