At the risk of becoming a broken record, thank you all for your continued support. I am greatly enjoying the questions, comments and general demands for more. Know that I have been an avid reader of fanfiction so I certainly sympathize with the pain of waiting and wondering where we are going.
Running into Narcissa Malfoy, quite literally, had not been factored into Hermione's plans for the day. Worse than that, Madam Malfoy caught her not only using advanced magic, but also a muggle device. Hermione groaned inwardly. She was rarely careless, but this could become a serious problem. No one else was aware of precisely how advanced her abilities had become. She hid so effectively from the professors, even those from Ravenclaw, that they would no doubt never believe what she was capable of. This was only compounded by the fact that as a muggle born, standing out in any way only led to scrutiny and abuse. Neither of which Hermione was particularly interested in drawing again into her life.
As she ran her hands down the quill she had nearly decided on in the front of the store, Hermione was oblivious to the woman who was occupying her thoughts rush out behind her. Collecting the book that had cost her the risk of exposure, the new quill and a stack of parchment, Hermione paid the shopkeeper and made her way back outside. The town around her was buzzing with other students talking loudly and playfully among themselves. In light of her recent run in, she couldn't fathom being surrounded by so many people. How quickly would everyone know her secret? Who would Madam Malfoy tell first? How much of her freedom would Hermione lose from that one inconceivably careless moment? Intent on enjoying the last bit of peace that she would be afforded for sometime, she turned back toward the castle. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn't see the three approaching Gryffindors until they were nearly on top of her. As narrow as the path was, it wouldn't have made any difference. Avoiding the so-called "Golden Trio" was now impossible. Hermione lowered her eyes, hoping that it would be enough to keep from drawing any attention to herself. She was certain of her success as she had nearly passed them and their conversation flowed uninterrupted. But a hand reached out, grabbing her shoulder clumsily. Hermione suppressed a groan of annoyance and turned to find the Weasley boy staring into her eyes. The inconvenience of being delayed was bad enough, but in her current flustered state she couldn't even remember which of the brothers he was.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence the boy finally spoke, "You're Hermione Granger, right?" Hermione didn't trust herself to bite back all of the snarky remarks that came to mind at the question and chose to simply nod instead.
"I've seen you around the castle. Always reading. I was wondering if today you might like to do something other than read in my company."
Hermione was convinced that today must be some sort of cosmic joke. She'd gone months without drawing even the slightest bit of unwanted attention, but today… well today was just a disaster. She struggled to control the reaction that threatened to overcome her face.
"Mister Weasley that is a generous offer, but I would hate to break my previous engagement with my favorite new author."
"Perhaps another time then, Hermione?"
He obviously wasn't going to make this easier on her. "I am afraid we shouldn't," Hermione said attempting to sound calm and sweet. "You simply aren't my type, so to speak."
His face darkened at the realization that he was truly being turned down. He took a step forward into her physical space and said in a low menacing voice, "At least do me the courtesy of informing me what your type is."
In spite of her discomfort, Hermione didn't back down. Instead she placed her hand gently on his shoulder. When he didn't react, she moved it to his cheek as she leaned up to whisper in his ear, "It's impossible to describe as I haven't experienced it yet, but I will remember to owl you since you are so concerned with my personal life." Her tone dropped into deeply sarcastic by the end of her statement. She removed her hand and turned back toward the path ahead of her. She could feel the eyes of the boy and his friends burning into the back of her head. Hopefully what she had said would be enough to keep them from following her and if she were really lucky, perhaps it would keep them from speaking to her again.
As nothing was going to plan today, Hermione decided to change the plan. Instead of going directly back to Hogwarts, she veered off the path toward the Shrieking Shack. She'd never been inside, but just a little in front of the house there was a small outcrop of rocks that would obscure her presence from the town, the castle and the walking path. So long as she was back before dark, no one else would have a reason for coming to look for her. Wrapped warmly in her cloak, she settled herself into the grass with the rocks at her back. The feeling of the sun warming her face was almost enough to make her forget the events of the day. Instead of opening the book in her hands and getting lost in the pages, Hermione relaxed her head against the rock behind her, closing her eyes to absorb a moment of stolen peace.
Bellatrix appeared with a crack standing in the middle of the dirty mostly destroyed house. She was pleased that she'd been powerful enough to apparate without injuring herself after all these years. She would still have to work back up to being able to travel like a plume of black smoke like the other Death Eaters, but this was a good first step. Going to the Shrieking Shack was not nearly the excitement of going to the actual town of Hogsmeade, but she had been told by both her Lord and her sister to stay out of the sight of the public. She conceded that they were likely right after all, she wanted to make a grand re-entrance to the spot light. And hunting down her sister to get a decent butterbeer in a small town just didn't have the flash that the eldest Black sister was famous for.
She walked carefully over rotting floorboards to the rear of the house to gaze out the windows that over looked the rolling hills of Scotland. It had been so long since she had seen beauty, she could hardly tear her eyes away. Sometime later she was broken out of her reverie by the distinct feeling that she was no longer alone. She held her breath listening for even the smallest noise moving through the old house. She stalked silently through the house, wand drawn, ready to protect herself or perhaps obliviate whoever was foolish enough to interrupt her mini-holiday. As she reached the broken windows in the front of the house, she cautiously peered out. She swept her gaze to the front door. No one. But still, she couldn't shake the feeling. Looking back towards the castle her eyes settled on a lounging figure not far away. The girl was stretched out in the sunlight like a cat absorbing its warmth, blissfully unaware of the presence of a Death Eater. Bellatrix couldn't quite see the girl's features through the damaged window, but even from a distance it was clear that the girl was quite the beauty. Before she could complete her train of thought the girl began to stir and sit up. The girl glanced around her, gaining her bearings, when her eyes snapped up to the window Bellatrix stood in. Bellatrix knew she should take a step back, but she was rooted in place. Her magic was swirling through her veins and crackled at her fingertips. That was new. She was an extremely powerful witch, at least when she was healthy, but she was never confident without her wand. She felt intoxicated from a simple look from the girl. Feeling vulnerable and as though she had risked enough for a day, she turned on the spot and apparated back to her sister's home.
The warmth of the sun and the cool October breeze calmed Hermione's nerves more than she had dared to hope. She stirred from her afternoon nap feeling sated. She looked around wondering what had pulled her out of her dreamless sleep. The sky remained clear and beautiful, based on the lack of sounds there didn't appear to even be anyone on the path back to Hogwarts. After a few moments she glanced up to the dilapidated old house, and caught a glimpse of a black shadow. Her brain told her that no one lived there and it was entirely unlikely that the shadow could be another person. And yet her eyes strained to make out flowing black skirts shifting away from the window. And were she a more foolish girl, she might have sworn she heard a faint crack, though she wouldn't even dare admit so to herself. A sharp breeze blew apart her cloak and Hermione felt more alone than she could ever remember. Grimacing, she gathered her things and stood to retreat inside the comfortable walls of the castle.
Narcissa had a lovely afternoon in the company of her son and his friends. She had even gleaned a piece of information that might make all the difference. She knew the girl's name. Now to unravel the rest of the mystery. They would first have to establish her blood status through more creative means. Birth certificates after all, could be altered. Anxious to return home, she stepped into the fireplace with a handful of floo powder. Moments later she stepped out of the fireplace in the library of the Manor to find a pacing Bellatrix. Narcissa paused as she stepped out. It was going to be a very long night if her sister was in such a state.