The Brightest Black - A Dramione Fanfic

Emotions are Irrational

Hermione rubbed at her eyes and grimaced. She was so tired, she knew she must look like a raccoon. That was rather fitting, as it was Halloween - when muggles dressed up as anything but themselves. And, despite her upbringing and inherited Black magic, she was a muggleborn.

She had dropped Astronomy and History of Magic, but she still had an extremely heavy course load. Combine that with losing almost an entire week of studying as she wrote her article on the Marauder's Academy and she was terribly behind.

She would have skipped the Halloween Feast, but she and Harry had always done something fun together on Halloween. It helped keep the memories at bay, according to Padfoot.

Even now she knew she should stop and go to bed. She looked around the empty common room and sighed at the piles of candy wrappers, spilled food, and disarrayed furniture. The elves had to be itching to get in here and tidy up, but they prided themselves on never being seen unless called. She was only making their job more difficult by staying up past midnight.

She looked down at the book in front of her: Ancient Runes of Storytelling. When would she need to read or write stories in runes? She planned to help keep Harry out of Voldemort's clutches and then set about changing the wizarding world. Not be a writer.

She groaned and set down her quill before shutting the book.

She was so tired.

Not that she really wanted to sleep, she had a feeling that tonight would be a nightmare night.

But she could at least vacate the common room and let the elves work.

A cold draft suddenly hit the back of her neck and she grabbed her wand and spun on her seat.

She blinked in tired confusion at the two people standing in the portrait hole.

"Padfoot? Professor?"

"Hermione, I should have known you'd be awake," Padfoot said softly.

"I shall go get, Harry. Though I don't believe-"

Padfoot cut the Headmaster off, "It doesn't matter what you believe, Albus. I am Harry's guardian until he is seventeen. And Hermione is of age."

Albus Dumbledore's brow wrinkled in a small frown for an instant before smoothing out. With a small nod he headed off to the boys' dormitory. Curious, and a little afraid, Hermione lowered her mental wall for the first time in almost two weeks.

Surprisingly, she found Harry awake. She caught an image of a strange corridor before it disappeared as he realized she was there.

He could do no more than ascertain that she was alright before he heard the Headmaster opening his door.

She blinked and drew her mind back to herself.

"Harry was awake," she said.

"I'm not surprised. There's a reason I always kept you busy and exhausted when you were younger," he said as he pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table next to her.

"Are you going to tell me why you're here? I assume it has something to do with Voldemort."

He glanced over at the boys' staircase, "When Harry gets here. You know, this room hasn't changed at all."

She watched his eyes skim over the cozy red and gold common room. His eyes locked onto a small table near the fire with four comfortable seats for a moment and a flash of pain crossed his face.

"Did you really think it would change? We still have the same Headmaster and Head of House."

"No, I suppose not," he said softly as Dumbledore and Harry emerged from the staircase.