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Lucius contemplated Hermione carefully. After the luncheon, he had Apparated them to the park by her house, planning to discuss the day as they walked back. For a while, they lounged beneath the last warmth of the September sun, unspeaking. He leaned against a tree, long legs stretched out; Hermione nestled her small form against his side, softly drowsing.

The day had gone well, Lucius thought. The girl seemed on good terms in particular with Daphne Greengrass and Geoffrey Macht's boy, Julian. Hermione had been pleasantly surprised by the mini celebration of her birthday, and even clapped her small hands in delight when Teasby had brought out the seven-tiered lemon cake.

Yes, Lucius mused lazily. He had done well.

He had gathered the gifts from the other children into a wooden chest, which he'd Vanished and sent to the girl's room. Invisible, of course, to Muggle eye. She could play with them later. For now, he wanted her focused on her impressions of the gathering.

Hermione stirred beside him, peeping out at him from beneath her curls. "I had a nice time, Lucius. Thanks."

He brushed back her hair with his fingers so he could see her properly. "I'm glad. I trust all the children were kind?"

"Yes. And no," she snickered. "A few tried to test me, some more rudely than others. Which," she told him solemnly, "was quite vexing. But I'm used to-I mean, I've never met people my own age who are so interesting."

"Oh?" Lucius asked, absently still stroking her hair.

"We had a fascinating conversation about Hogwarts," she said happily, "and all kinds of theories. Julian has read so much, and he told me about all kinds of rare books his father has in their library." She sighed. "It was wonderful."

He smiled indulgently. "Better than my library?" he questioned playfully.

She swatted his chest. "Well you've never actually let me inside your library. So how would I know?"

"Well, I've brought you a few books from there, which you've seemed to enjoy. How about you pop over again sometime? I'll let you browse to your heart's content."

"Oh, well thank you!" Hermione snuggled back against him. "That's mighty fine of you, sir."

"I mean it," Lucius said seriously. He pressed an object into her hand. "I haven't given you your birthday present yet."

She scrambled upright to have a look. In her hand lay a silver brooch, elegantly crafted in the shape of the Malfoy crest: two dragons flanking a crossed sword and crown, with an 'M' in the center. Silver laurels curved around the crest, and underlined the Malfoy motto: Solem ferre possum.

Hermione repeated the words wonderingly. "What do they mean?"

Lucius made a mental note to instruct the girl in Latin, once of the most Magically powerful languages. "I can bear the sun," he said solemnly. "The Malfoy words. This brooch is special, Hermione. It's more than it seems."

She turned questioning eyes on him. "How do you mean?"

"It also acts as a port directly to my home. The library and my study, more specifically. The key has been marked specially for you...it will just be a piece of silver to anyone else."

"How do I use it?"

"Just touch it and think of wanting to come to Malfoy Manor. There's more." He closed his fingers over Hermione's so that they both clasped the brooch. "If you're ever in trouble, real trouble, I shall know."

She looked deeply into his eyes.

"I'll sense it. I need to know you're safe, Hermione."

"It's beautiful." Hermione raised her hand to touch his jaw lightly. Her amber eyes seemed darker in the bronze light, softer and older...something like a small sadness glimmered. "I shall treasure it...as I treasure you."

Unable to speak, Lucius pressed the girl against him. How remarkable, that simple twist of fate that led him to her...he ached to know what time would bring, who this child really was, and who she would become.

They sat in silence for a few more moments, as Hermione nodded off, clutching the brooch to her chest. Then Lucius asked, "How was Draco?"

"Mmm?" the girl replied sleepily.

"My son. How did you find him?"

She replied, eyes still closed. "He was very nice. He looks a lot like you."

Lucius frowned a little. That was all? He'd hoped they would make more of a connection. But perhaps his Hermione was simply weary.

He nudged her gently. "Come on. It's time I got you back home."

She groaned a little, but obediently rose to her feet. They walked back, hand in hand.

Lucius, accustomed to a talkative Hermione, cast a sideways glance at the girl. She looked to be half asleep already. "Come on, little one," he said with a sigh, and gathered her unresisting form into his arms, casting a disillusionment charm on them both.

Her head came to rest against his chest again as Lucius walked, hand closing against his shoulder like a content and dozing kitten. "Lucius," she murmured softly.

Hermione was asleep before she could finish the sentence.


Draco paced in his study, as he never did.

Why were his thoughts racing like this? The luncheon had been successful: Hermione had made friends in the group. Aside from Crabbe's little game, there had been no confrontations. She had assimilated well.

So why did he feel so sick?

He collapsed into his chair at the head of the mahogany table.

Draco suddenly realized what was bothering him.

In his plans, Draco had imagined that he was the one she would look to for protection and guidance. In his mind, he was the one who held her attention, charmed her, he was the one she would follow and look up to and rely upon.

But Hermione had simply floated in and charmed his circle. She much to learn, true...but she could hold her own even now. Anyone could see that.

Draco frowned. He needed to figure her out, so he could establish leadership. He would have to work on her, continually put himself in positions where he would be compelled to teach her.

What was it about her that was so hard to pin down? It felt like she was everywhere and nowhere at once.

He massaged his temples wearily. This would require careful planning.


When Hermione awoke at first light, she found herself in her own bed, sheets tucked firmly around her. Raising her arms above her head, she stretched, sighing like a cat. Spying the wooden chest at the foot of her bed, she slid out of bed and padded around her room to have a look.

The chest was locked.

That's when Hermione noticed the small heavy iron key hanging round her neck on a thin chain. Tilting her head, she quirked one side of her mouth in a pleased smile. She knelt and tried the key. It unlocked.

She locked it again, removed the key, and quickly scanned the room for a hiding place.

There, in the pocket of space between her dresser and the wall. She hung the key there.

Then Hermione retrieved the key, unlocked the chest delightedly, and finally took out her presents.

Sometimes her parents remembered, and came home with plastic toys or bags of candy or stuffed animals.

These "trinkets" were of a different sort entirely.

From Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, likely chosen and coordinated by their parents, Hermione had been given a stationery set: sheets of creamy parchment, envelopes, sealing wax with a simple honeybee seal, a fine feather quill, and an ink pot.

From Tracey Davis, a metal and ribbon headband, woven with green and gold flowers. Theodore Nott, apparently perplexed by what gifts ten-year-old girls might be interested in, had simply given an Obscurus Books card for twenty five galleons. Pansy had presented her with a little green blown glass bottle of flowery perfume.

Hermione lined these gifts up neatly on the floor beside herself. She tried a dab of the perfume, sniffed, shrugged, and turned back the the chest.

Daphne offered a sweet gift: A Young Lady's Guide to Ancient Wizarding Customs. On the front page, she had transcribed, For Hermione Granger on her tenth birthday. I know the Magic world must seem strange to you. My mother gave this to me when I was a little younger...it's time I passed it on. Hope it helps. Daphne.

Touched, and immensely curious, Hermione set the book on her bedside table to read later. The other girl was certainly thoughtful...and very courteous, too.

She peeked back into the chest. Only two left in there. Julian Macht had given a small puzzle box of maple wood that changed each time she opened it. It was easy enough to solve, though, and the inside contained a simple gold ring of laurels.

Draco's gift was last. She unrolled a swathe of the softest fabric to find a cloak, tawny and red and gold.

A note in even bold script: Autumn colors, to remind you of when we met. Happy Birthday, Hermione.

She went to her mirror and tried it on. Pleased, she found dozens of little pockets sewn in. She tried a few twirls, enjoying the soft rustling sound. Finally, she took it off. Hung the cloak in her closet. Replaced the other presents in her chest.

One more gift.

It was under her pillow, the silver brooch from Lucius. She caressed it with a finger, then climbed back into bed, curled her fingers around it, and went back to sleep.


Severus was immersed in his books, encased in the dark shelves of his home.

Voldemort had given his a fortune, and he was paid well by his teaching post at Hogwarts, yet he still kept the small gloomy house he had grown up in by the sea. Ancient wooden walls were held upright by book shelves, which covered every spare bit of wall.

A scholar through and through.

An observer would question the sanity of the man. He hadn't eaten for over a day, and could count the number of hours he'd slept in the past few days on one hand. Dark shadows appeared beneath his eyes, in the hollows of his cheeks.

And still, he could find nothing of Hermione Granger. Nothing solid.

Tens of thousands of prophecies involved the rise of new and powerful witches and wizards. Many could refer to the girl. How could he go about researching something so unusual?

Severus frowned. What it boiled down to was what Hermione remembered. And what she had gleaned from the people who raised her. But how to address it with her? She was secretive at best, with a dubious sense of control.

Weeks of too little sleep finally caught up with the man. Still pondering the puzzle that was Hermione Granger, his eyes began to close, chin finally coming to rest on his arms, inky black hair pooled about him like shadows.


OAN business was exhausting Lucius. By now, not only his inner circle, but also most in the Dark Wizarding population had heard of the strange, powerful young girl who had befriended the most notable family in the magical world.

Rumors ran like wildfire.

She was Lord Voldemort's heir, a younger and more terrible Queen, she wasn't really a little girl, she was a sorceress in disguise. She wasn't even human.

Stranger reports about Lucius and Hermione's relationship.

Apparently, people we spying.

Lucius had grown so accustomed to acting a certain way around Hermione. Light-hearted, gentle, warm. He had forgotten how he was supposed to act: distant, reserved, icy-cold.

What kind of creature, people wondered, could hold a man like Lucius Malfoy in thrall? What power did she have over him?

An anonymous witch had interviewed with Diana Sharpe, reporter for the Daily Prophet. The article lay on his desk limply, like a rotten fruit.

My source writes thusly:

"One of my good friends knows certain people in the OAN [Ordo Aurorae Novae] very well, very well indeed. Apparently the girl's got something different about her, some kind of weird energy emanating from her."

Energy? Emanating? While not uncommon in the Wizarding World, radiating power is generally a sign of being, well, powerful. But what my readers are really trying to figure out is how Lucius Malfoy is involved in this.

As the head of OAN and owner of a good deal of the Ministry, the Malfoys are noted for generations of wealth and power. And for frosty little smirks; we all know what I mean. My source also reports something even stranger than a powerful little child-witch.

She claims that she saw the two, Lucius and Hermione, in a Muggle park, of all places.

"There was something real possessive about the way he was looking at her," she says. "As though she was something real special. I mean, really special."

Lucius couldn't bring himself to finish the article. Possessive?

To have their "relationship" brought to light in such contorted, harsh, confining lines. He cared about the girl as well, not just her power, didn't he? He had held her in his arms, carried her safely home, given her presents, all because he felt tenderness for the child. She was vulnerable; she needed him, didn't she?

Just because he wanted her all to himself didn't mean he was possessive.

Disgusted with himself, Lucius penned a quick note to Severus Snape, informing the man that he was coming over.

He sent it off, then grabbed a cloak and Disapparated to the shore of the sea. He'd walk the remaining distance and give Severus some time to prepare for his visit.

Wind tore at him.

He welcomed the biting salt air, the hard rasp of the ocean. Gray skies reared, promising storms; Lucius lifted his face to the rain.

Locks of silver-gold hair flew free of the constraining ribbon. Disregarding his clothes, his duties, his usually impeccable image, Lucius collapsed against a huge boulder, boots halfway in the water. He buried his face in his hands.

What was he to do?

He didn't notice Severus until the man touched his shoulder.

"Lucius? What happened to you?"

He reached out blindly, fingers numb with September cold. "Severus, I've made a serious miscalculation."


When Hermione awoke a couple hours later, at what she judged to be a more reasonable hour, she jumped out of bed at once when she remembered her new book.

Dashing to her bathroom, she splashed water on her face (and nearly the entire room), wriggled into a red dress with purple stockings, snatched her new book from Daphne and a light jacket, and headed out the door.

She hated Mondays; her parents generally slept in and tended to their own problems, leaving Hermione to prepare herself for school.

Hermione hated school, too.

But with her new book to look forward to, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe her teachers would let her perform private study again, and she wouldn't have to interact with the other students.

It looked as though rain were imminent. She'd have to find a quiet corner in the library. Hermione slipped her hand in her pocket and touched the silver brooch she had hidden there. It comforted her to feel its weight in her hand.

Once well on her way, Hermione noticed an unusually large number of people milling around her neighborhood. Some were dressed in funny clothes, green cloaks and even a few top hats. Others looked vaguely normal.

All seemed to be busy on some errand or other; all seemed oddly focused on their business.

Hermione assessed the strange scene in a moment, eyes narrowed. In a flash of understanding, she pressed her lips firmly together, shrugging herself deeper into the folds of her jacket and letting the brooch fall from her fingers.

A close observer may have seen the cloud that crossed her small face, a symptom of sadness far too profound for a girl of her years.


"What did you expect, Lucius?" Severus asked, his black eyes uncharacteristically soft in the dim light of his home. "We did all we could, we predicted what we could. So the Wizarding World has become aware of Hermione Granger. It was bound to, eventually."

Lucius carded his fingers through his hair. "I never imagined such a response. And what they're saying about Hermione and me..." He broke off.

Severus shook his head. "They're just playing with mysteries. All they know is that you seem to care for the girl. Which is true."

When Lucius didn't reply, Severus sighed, now impatient. "Look. If anything, it helps us deal with the Hogwarts problem. People will be expecting something extraordinary from her. We help her conceal what she can, and deal with the rest."

Now Lucius looked up. "You're right, naturally. I don't mean to be dramatic-"

"Of course you do; you excel in melodrama," Severus cut in.

Lucius ignored his attempt at humor and continued. "-but I feel as though I've...as if I've let Hermione down in some way. She never wanted all the attention she's about to receive."

"I hadn't thought of that," Severus admitted, suddenly stricken. "You don't think...you don't think people are going to try and see her?"

Lucius raised his head, stunned. "We're going. Grab a cloak. We need to watch over her."


Classes rolled on as normal for Hermione. Mostly the students left her alone, and the teachers, perhaps sensing her stormy mood, let her be. When the clock finally struggled to noon, Hermione didn't even join the others in the queue for food. Nor did she slip her new book from her locker.

Hermione made a beeline for the library, an old wood and stone structure that creaked with every step.

It was the only place she felt at home in.

Finding a window seat in the stacks, Hermione settled down to watch the rain fall, arms wrapped around her legs. The clouds were lovely, silver with rain, gold with a hint of sun behind.

She wanted to embrace that chill wind, stand in the hazy pink light, feel the water running down her cheeks like tears.

Heedless of the cold, Hermione rose and made her way outside. Her hair turned to stringy strands in moments; her clothes were soaked through soon after. She didn't care.

She raised her arms and face, opening herself to the the thunder that rolled across the sky.


They found her just after another wizard wearing large green eye glasses did. He was pacing forward in a way that put Lucius in the mind of a large rodent stalking his prey.

Lucius sprinted up to them, gray cloak streaming behind.

"Hey, you're that girl everyone's talking 'bout, aren't you?"

Hermione turned, appraised him coolly with those ancient amber eyes.

Seemingly not put off by her silence, the man took a step forward. "I can see what they meant about you. You're just a little girl, a pretty little thing, too. But there's definitely something different. I wonder..."

Lucius had heard enough. When Severus caught up behind him, he sent him a look. Just as he was about to cast a spell, Severus gripped his arm.

"Hold up. I want to see how she handles this."

"I don't-"

Severus tightened his hold. "Just wait."

They watched Hermione step forward calmly, almost too close to the older man. She tilted her head, eying the stranger curiously. "You know me? I've never heard about you. Doesn't seem very fair now, does it?"

The man laughed awkwardly. "Just wait a mo'-"

"Do you know this is a private area, sir?" Hermione continued, sounding reasonable. "It's a Muggle school. I can see you don't belong here, unless you have some business with me?"

"Had to see you for meself, didn't I?"

Hermione's voice sounded hard as a silver bell. "Why?"

"Everyone's talking 'bout you. 'Bout your powers." His voice was odd; he spoke quickly, as though being compelled. "Wanted some for meself, didn't I. And here you are, unprotected, twirlin' in the rain. Pretty little thing." He reached out, as though he couldn't help himself.

Lucius and Severus, watching, detected no visible change in the girl's posture. Yet there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The rain had stopped, and the clearing was suddenly eerily silent. The girl eyed the man too closely. She smiled too calmly.

She looked like a hungry cat.

The man froze.

"You wanted my powers," Hermione repeated softly. She stepped closer still to the man; he cringed visibly, backing up a step."

"It weren't me, I swear it-"

"Enough," commanded the girl, with a tone of horrible finality. She placed her hands on the man's cheeks.

For a terrifying moment, Lucius vividly recalled the scene in which he met Hermione. The man's bones had been crushed, skin torn like paper.

The air was crackling with the same fiery heat. The girl's face held the same hard fury.

Were he and Severus about to witness a heinous act?

But the girl simply spoke in that imperious voice, as the man stood stock still with fear. "You will not try to find me again. You will instruct these others to cease as well. You will not steal powers. Now leave."

When she finally stepped back, Lucius saw a darkening spot on the man's robe; he had wet himself.

Stumbling back, the man looked at the girl like she were about to slay him then and there. Then he stiffly Disapparated, leaving Hermione alone with Lucius and Severus in the growing darkness.

Hermione bowed her head.

She spoke to the men without turning. "Can you explain?" she asked too softly.

Lucius took a step forward, raising placating arms. "Hermione, we've never seen that man-"

"Can you explain?" Hermione whirled suddenly, face white. "Can you tell me why this man wanted to find me? Wanted to steal my magic? Can you?"

He stopped. Swallowed. "You piqued the interest of your friends and their parents. A few probably shared that interest. I told you before, you're extraordinary-"

"That's why you invited me over, isn't it? So you could show me off to your friends."

Anger and indignation left over from the Diana Sharpe article surged. Lucius stepped forward, said harshly, "No. No, that's not why. I wanted you to meet my family, have children your own age to play with-"

"Because I don't get along with people here. I see. "And how would you know that, Lucius? Have you been following me, too? Want a taste of my magic?"

Pain swept through him at her implications. This was too much. A sigh tumbled from him, unbidden; he couldn't move. "Hermione," he breathed softly.

The fury left her like a wind. The mask the girl had been wearing fell.

What he saw then was only worse, an expression of startled, bewildered hurt that haunted Lucius for nights after.

"What do you want from me?" Hermione whispered.

Lucius fell to his knees, aware of Severus watching behind him. The rain had started again, soaking through his clothes and hair, running down his cheeks like tears. The hazy pink light had deepened to a red-gray; storm clouds slashed the sky.

"Just you," he said finally. "Whatever that means."

Hermione stood wordlessly, gazing into his eyes, lips slightly parted, crimson from the cold. A shaft of gold light caressed her hair; wind tugged at her dress.

"Hermione," Lucius repeated. "I saw a frightened little girl, those long weeks ago. I found your power intriguing...and I admit, enticing."

Her face was utterly still, a marble figure beneath the rain.

"But now, now I don't care about your power. I don't care that you could be the next Dark Queen. Hermione, it's just you. Only you."

He caught the questioning light in her eyes at his mention of his and Severus' most cherished hope for her. He hadn't meant to let that slip...but something deep inside Lucius urged him to honesty.

That's what the girl would respond to. His only chance at regaining her.

"I didn't know they'd be all over you, I swear..."

Malfoys never begged. But his pride, his ambition, his sense of propriety were all vanished.

All that mattered was Hermione.

"Don't send me from your sight," Lucius managed.

She blinked, seeming suddenly unsure. A softness passed over her face and departed swiftly as autumn leaves.

"I'm going back to class," Hermione finally said flatly.

She headed back inside without another word, though not before Lucius glimpsed that bewildered pain once more.


My thanks for reading!