Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling and associates. No money is being made from this fanfiction; it is purely for entertainment.

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Chapter 4 – From the Dark

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Hermione felt as if she had just played into Lucius Malfoy's hands without ever making a move. It was unnerving, not least because it seemed this was a game he knew well and which she didn't know at all. She confided this to Harry, who didn't seem concerned. "He's powerless," he assured her. "It's all he can do to hold onto his wealth and whatever dignity he has left. Don't worry if he acts out. Living under the thumb of the Ministry isn't something that sits well with him." Somehow, she wasn't convinced that Malfoy was under anyone's thumb. He had recovered from the first war to regain his power. Would it really be beyond him to accomplish this a second time?

An owl delivered the Daily Prophet to her on Tuesday. There was a small story about her on the second page, saying that she had been involved in an incident with a Siren while on assignment for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and as the claws were poisonous, it would take a while for her injuries to heal.

A new Auror had been assigned for her protection—a young man named Wilkes, who had only been a year with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He was certainly likeable enough, but didn't have much to say. She served him tea and he entertained himself in her living room by reading Quidditch magazines.

Harry came by to see her later that day, bringing the books on magical injuries and healing spells from the Ministry library that she had asked him for.

"I thought Malfoy would have helped you with this," he said, as he set them on her kitchen table.

"He offered. I refused."

"Why?"

She scrutinized him for a moment. It seemed he had already discussed this with Malfoy and expected her to accept his offer. Did he know that Malfoy had expected something in return? Probably not, she decided. "I won't be indebted to Mr Malfoy for any reason. I can do this on my own, Harry."

"But—"

"But what?" she snapped. Harry wisely backed off. He settled into the chair across from her.

"Hermione, we need to talk."

"About?" she asked, as she pulled the first book and began flipping through it. Magical Maladies, Magical Mishaps…

"About your safety. You're a very high profile Muggle-born. We know this person is unbalanced enough to be taking risks like this in the first place and he might make another attempt." She stopped flipping pages and looked up. "I think we should move you and your parents to a safer place."

"No, Harry. I can't. Not this soon after—"

"It's for your protection, Hermione. It's too risky for you to stay here. You can stay at my house at Grimmauld Place. You'll still be able to use the Floo Network to go to work. You'll just need to keep a low profile for a while until we find this guy."

"I won't go."

"Hermione—"

"I have enough protection here! There's the Auror and the wards…"

"Do you really want to take that risk?" She quieted and he went on. "Ask your parents to stay at a relative's house. There won't be any need for Memory Charms this time. I don't think he's after them."

She put her head in her hands and sighed. He was right, she knew. It was too dangerous to stay here, in the middle of a Muggle neighbourhood, even with the additional wards. He was trying to make it as painless and comfortable as possible for her by offering up his own house. But it would also mean giving up the normal life she had just achieved after a year of living on the run.

"I'll think about, Harry."

She tenderly ran her hand over the long scar on her face. Maybe that normal life had never really been in reach.

Fate, it seemed, was intent on thwarting her efforts. Or the Ministry at the very least. Hemione had spent the entire day searching through the books for some mention of injuries caused by Dark Magic, but the closest she had gotten was a brief section that mentioned that Dark Magic wounds were often fatal. She remembered back in sixth year, when Harry had hit Draco Malfoy with the Sectumsempra curse. Snape had been able to heal it. Maybe that had been because it was his spell and so he was also able to create a counter-curse. The spell that caused her wounds must have been something similar to that. And Malfoy had said he could do something about them. So, unless he was outright lying to her, that meant there was a possible counter-curse somewhere in existence. She knew it was incredibly selfish, but she cursed Snape for not having been alive to fix her scars.

The flashing red lights on the clock by her bedside table told her the hour was approaching midnight. She laid her head on the book before her to rest her eyes. Charlie had given her the week off work to recover, and she hoped to find a solution to her little problem before she returned.

There was a flicker of light outside and her eyes were drawn to the window. The streetlamp outside her house sputtered and went out. The shadows deepened as if drawing in the light from around them and extinguishing it. She glanced further down the street. The other lamps were still lit. The light had probably just blown.

And then she saw it. A shuffle in the dark. Something had moved.

Harry had said he thought he would come back. But surely, with all the protective wards and an Auror in her house, she was safe. Surely.

Something was creeping through the shadows.

"Wilkes." The name came out as little more than a whisper. He was downstairs, probably dozing on her couch right now.

She clutched her wand tightly before her, a curse ready on her lips. The shadows rippled.

"Wilkes!" she called loudly. There was a thumping of feet up the stairs and then he was by her side, wand drawn and ready to fight.

"What is it? What?"

"I saw something," she explained. "Out there, something…"

Wilkes moved to the window, peered outside. The streetlamp had flickered alive again, pushing the shadows back.

"I don't see anything. If there was something there, it's gone now."

Hermione nodded. Beyond, in the night, she couldn't help but feel there were a pair of glittering eyes staring back at her from the dark.

On Wednesday, Hermione found she could no longer avoid seeing Ron. He showed up on her doorstep early that morning and her mother let him in as she was leaving for work.

"Hi," he said awkwardly. "I know you don't really want to see me—"

"Who told you that?" she protested.

"Ginny."

"Oh."

She led him to the living room and they sat down on opposite ends of the couch in silence. He was looking at her wounds, couldn't take his eyes off them. She knew they had started to crust over and were now more visible than they had been before.

"It's not that bad," he said, one hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. She wanted to believe him, but there were the tiny signs of disgust on his face; the curled lip, the pitying look, the way he held off from touching her.

"You think it's ugly," she stated bluntly.

Ron's face went a bright shade of red and he shouted, "No!"

"Oh, Ron!" She was tearing up and she glared at him accusingly as if this had all been his fault.

"You could cover it up with make-up," Ron said, completely misinterpreting the situation. "Just like Marietta Edgecombe did."

Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock. "Ron, you idiot! How-how could you—"

"What do you want from me, Hermione?" he yelled, both angry and exasperated at once. " I can tell you I don't care until I'm blue in the face, but you won't believe me!" He threw up his hands. "I don't know what you want!"

"Of course you wouldn't," she snapped. "You never get it, do you?" She couldn't sit anymore. She stood and began pacing the room.

"Don't get what?"

Hermione resisted the urge to hit him. Really, he could be so stupid sometimes. "You're not a girl, you wouldn't understand."

"Well, thank Merlin for that! I couldn't handle being crazy half my life!"

"Ron, you-you're being an insensitive jerk!"

"I'm not insensitive! I just don't get why this is such a big deal. You don't even care about being pretty!"

"Of course I do!"

"No, you don't! You're Hermione! You don't bother with that stuff!"

He really hadn't noticed anything she'd done for him. Her eyes flooded with tears and Ron began to get more and more frustrated.

"What do you want me to say? Just tell me and I'll say it!"

"I want you to notice me! I want you to see me as a girl! Not your friend, not the smart kid you copy notes off of! I want you to see me the way you see Fleur and Lavender – as a pretty girl!"

Ron went silent. She wondered briefly if he had finally got it. "But you're not like Fleur or Lavender," he said.

She went livid. "Ron! You-you—"

"What? What?" he asked, honestly confused.

"Insufferable—insensitive—boorish—" she sputtered angrily.

"Bloody Hell!" he exclaimed. He got up from the couch and almost stomped towards the door. "Owl me when you calm down!"

She slammed the door behind him and screamed at the empty room.

Later that day, after two cups of tea and pacing the kitchen for an hour, she heard a knocking at the window. A large eagle owl was beating its wings furiously against the glass. She let it in and it dropped a letter onto her kitchen table. A large "M" was pressed into the wax seal.

She resisted the urge to incinerate it immediately. She didn't want personal correspondence from him. That made it feel like they were somehow acquaintances or something more. Something other than just former adversaries.

It was waiting for her. Tentatively, she opened it.

Miss Granger,

We have made an important discovery on your case. I expect your presence at the Manor today at twelve o' clock. Do not be late.

LM

Not a request. A demand. She crumpled the note and threw it in the garbage, denying the rhythm of her heart that had suddenly picked up. She didn't take orders from Lucius Malfoy. And Harry could communicate any new discoveries to her himself. The next two and a half hours were occupied with scouring through the many books on healing spells.

At twelve-thirty, she received a second note.

Your tardiness is not appreciated. Come to the Manor immediately or I shall send Draco to fetch you.

LM

Did he think she was a House-Elf at his beck and call? She grabbed her wand, whispered "Incendio" and the letter burst into flame. The piece of parchment was disintegrating in the sink when she heard a knock at the door. She stilled.

"Granger, I know you're in there!"

Hermione opened the front door to find Draco Malfoy on the other side. The absurdity of the whole situation suddenly struck her; not once in all her years at Hogwarts, would she have ever believed she would find Draco Malfoy standing outside her house. "I'm not going," she told him.

"You are going. No one refuses a Malfoy." He reached out to grab her hand and she slapped him away.

"Yes they do! Or did you forget that your side lost the war and your name is worthless?"

"Cheap shot, Granger." There was a naked bitterness to his voice that caught her off guard.

"Everything OK, Miss Granger?" called a voice from behind her.

"It's fine, Mason. Just an old classmate," Hermione said.

"New boyfriend?" Malfoy asked. "Finally dumped Weasley, have you?"

"Auror," Hermione shot back, irritation clear in her voice. "And none of your business, either way."

"This is about your case," he said, getting back to the original topic.

"Harry is handling my case, not your father." She reached to close the door on him, but he stuck his foot in to stop her.

"Potter's already there. And I'm not going to stand out here all day waiting for you! There's something they have to tell you. It's about your parents," he added quickly and she stopped suddenly.

"What about my parents?"

He didn't answer, but held out his hand. With only a moment's hesitation, she put her hand in his and they Apparated to Malfoy Manor. He didn't take her to the grounds outside the gates. Instead, she found herself standing in Lucius Malfoy's study, the man himself sitting leisurely behind his desk. Draco led her to a chair in front and with firm pressure on her shoulder, forced her to sit.

Hermione looked around and quickly noted a particular absence. "Where's Harry?"

"Mr Potter will be joining us shortly," Lucius replied. She noticed he was appraising her dress and silently cursed herself for not having been able to prepare. Her hair had been left down in wild, frizzy curls and she was wearing an old pair of jeans and a light shirt. "What on earth have you got on, Miss Granger?"

"Muggle clothing," she explained.

"In future, kindly dress appropriately when you plan to be in my presence." His lip was curled up in distaste.

"I didn't plan to be in your presence at all. Now, what about my parents?"

"I beg your pardon?" Lucius raised a quizzical eyebrow. At her lack of response, he turned to Draco, who shrugged with an air of nonchalance. "It seems my son has told you a small fib."

Her eyes grew wide with realisation and she leapt out of her seat. "What is this?"

"Sit, Miss Granger," Lucius hissed and she was suddenly aware that she was alone in a room with two Malfoys. Not the supposedly reformed and humbled Malfoys, but the Muggle-hating, blood supremists who thought she wasn't fit to breathe the same air, who had aligned themselves with a madman to ensure her kind were wiped out. Harry had told her that his wand was being monitored for Dark Magic, but that still left him with a lot of options if he wanted to hurt her.

"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, drawing her wand and holding it steady at the elder Malfoy.

"Mr Potter has asked that I keep you informed of any new developments in your case. But if you'd rather I kept you in the dark, I'd be more than willing to oblige," he added with a sneer. "No doubt you have noticed my house does not appreciate your presence here."

She kept her wand raised.

"Do you really think I wish to go back to Azkaban for ending your pathetic life?" He was quickly growing irritated with her unwillingness to obey. But for what may have been the first time, she thought she could see the truth of his words in his pale eyes. "Sit down, Miss Granger."

"Where's Harry?" she returned.

The door whipped open and Harry burst into the room. "Hermione!" He pulled his wand when he saw she had hers out.

"Have you finally decided to join us then, Potter?" Malfoy asked.

"What are you doing?" Harry demanded.

"Following your instructions," he said as if it were obvious. "Miss Granger was just sitting down. And I assure you, we have not harmed a single hair on her head."

Hermione nodded at Harry and then slowly sank down into her chair. Harry took the chair beside her, but only put his wand away after a few long minutes.

"Draco," Malfoy said, waving his hand imperiously at his son. Draco scowled and left the room. "Now that we're all assembled, let us begin." Malfoy reached within his cloak, withdrew a long dagger with a carved wooden handle, and placed it on the desk before him. "Do you recognize this, Miss Granger?"

She shook her head.

"It's the dagger we retrieved the night you were attacked," Harry explained. "I gave it to Malfoy to investigate."

"Indeed, this dagger may be a crucial piece of evidence. It may interest you to know, this is not a Dark object. It is certainly magical – the blade will never rust, never dull, and never fail. You are fortunate he did not manage to cut you with it. It was used in rituals performed by the Knights of Walpurgis. They were an ancient pure-blood association whose mandate was to guard wizarding society from the Muggle world. Our murderer may fancy himself a modern day knight."

"So he isn't one of these Knights of Walpurgis?" Hermione asked.

"Of course not," Lucius scoffed. "The Knights fell out of history over two centuries ago. No such organization exists now."

"Pure-blood association?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "They sound like Death Eaters."

"Certainly not!" Malfoy hissed and she could tell he was sincerely offended. He composed himself quickly, sitting back in the chair and returning to his bored drawl. "The Knights were a noble order and extremely secretive, restricted only to the most noble and pure-blood families. They were responsible for guarding our most precious secrets and protecting wizards from Muggles. They did not— " He stopped abruptly and refused to finish that sentence. "They had more noble aims."

"If they were so important, why have I never heard of them?"

"The vast majority of the wizarding world has never known of their existence. This secret has been passed down only to pure-blooded wizards of noble families."

"Ron's a pure-blood and he's never—"

"Only to worthy pure-blood families, Miss Granger. Please don't force me to explain myself."

She bristled silently in Ron's defence. "So where does that leave us?"

"Only a few families would have access to something like this. I have managed to narrow it down to seven; that should be a manageable number for Potter to investigate." He passed a slip of paper to Harry with a list of names on it. It was only then she realised that Malfoy had been speaking directly to her the entire time. Harry had noticed it too; he was fuming silently.

Hermione stood. "Thank you for the information, Mr Malfoy, but if that's all—"

"It is not," he stated simply.

She sat back down.

"Mr Potter tells me you have not taken up his offer to move into his home."

She sputtered angrily, turning from Harry (who had gone red) and back to Malfoy, who looked as if he were about to berate her as a disobedient child. "That's none of your—"

"Are you really stupid enough to risk your life and that of your parents to entertain some misguided sense of normality?"

"No—No, I was going to—"

"Mr Potter has made a very generous offer. I strongly suggest you take it."

She threw Harry a vicious glare. He returned it, refusing to back down.

"I think we're done here," she said firmly. Hermione and Harry rose from their seats and began making their way out the door. Malfoy followed them out, reaching out to grasp Hermione's wrist just before she went through the doorway.

"Have you considered my offer?" His voice was quiet, for her ears only.

"No."

Malfoy smiled. "Stubborn girl. I suppose you've tried to find a healing spell on your own, have you?"

Bastard. He already knew the answer to that.

"And did you find it?"

He knew that too, but he wanted her to say it. "Not yet—"

"But, of course, you wouldn't. Injuries caused by Dark Magic require a Dark Magic counter-curse. I doubt the Ministry has those books in its library."

And that was why he was so sure she'd accept. He knew she'd never be able to find the spell on her own. Still, she wasn't stupid enough to give Malfoy any power over her for something as superficial as a scar. She pulled her wrist from his grasp. "Goodbye, Mr Malfoy."

That knowing smirk followed her out the door.